oth's
prophecy."

"They are taken for granted, dear boy," said my mother gently.

The Vicar rubbed his nose.

Yet not these excellent and zealous counsellors proved right, but the
Vicar and I. For had I gone to London, as they urged, instead of abiding
where I was, agreeably to the Vicar's argument and my own inclination,
it is a great question whether the plague would not have proved too
strong for Betty Nasroth, and her prediction gone to lie with me in a
death-pit. As things befell, I lived, hearing only dimly and, as it
were, from afar-off of that great calamity, and of the horrors that
beset the city. For the disease did not come our way, and we moralised
on the sins of the townsfolk with sound bodies and contented minds. We
were happy in our health and in our virtue, and not disinclined to
applaud God's judgment that smote our erring brethren; for too often the
chastisement of one sinner feeds another's pride. Yet the plague had a
hand, and no small one, in that destiny of mine, although it came not
near me; for it brought fresh tenants to those same rooms in the
gardener's cottage where the Vicar had dwelt till the loyal Parliament's
Act proved too hard for the conscience of our Independent minister, and
the Vicar, nothing loth, moved back to his parsonage.

Now I was walking one day, as I had full licence and leave to walk, in
the avenue of Quinton Manor, when I saw, first, what I had (if I am to
tell the truth) come to see, to wit, the figure of young Mistress
Barbara, daintily arrayed in a white summer gown. Barbara was pleased
to hold herself haughtily towards me, for she was an heiress, and of a
house that had not fallen in the world as mine had. Yet we were friends;
for we sparred and rallied, she giving offence and I taking it, she
pardoning my rudeness and I accepting forgiveness; while my lord and my
lady, perhaps thinking me too low for fear and yet high enough for
favour, showed me much kindness; my lord, indeed, would often jest with
me on the great fate foretold me in Betty Nasroth's prophecy.

"Yet," he would say, with a twinkle in his eye, "the King has strange
secrets, and there is some strange wine in his cup, and to love where he
loves----"; but at this point the Vicar, who chanced to be by, twinkled
also, but shifted the conversation to some theme which did not touch the
King, his secrets, his wine, or where he loved.

Thus then I saw, as I say, the slim tall figure, the dark hair, and th