e been set up, even before my trial--such is the
reward of eminence--but no Yorkshire jury would turn round in the box,
with those poor fellows before them. 'Not guilty, my lord,' was on their
tongues, before he had finished charging them."

"Oh, I am so glad! They have been acquitted, and you were there to see
it!"

"To be sure. I was in the court, as Harry Ombler's father. Mr. Mordacks
got it up; and it told on the jury even more than could have been
expected. Even the judge wiped his eyes as he looked at me, for they say
he has a scapegrace son; and Harry was the only one of all the six
in danger, according to the turn of the evidence. My poor eyes have
scarcely come round yet from the quantity of sobbing that I had to do,
and the horrible glare of my goggles. And then I had a crutch that
I stumped with as I sighed, so that all the court could hear me; and
whenever I did it, all the women sighed too, and even the hardest hearts
were moved. Mr. Mordacks says that it was capital."

"Oh, but, Robin, how shocking, though you make me laugh! If the verdict
had been otherwise--oh, what then?"

"Well, then, Harry Ombler had a paper in his hand, done in printing
letters by myself, because he is a very tidy scholar, and signed by me;
the which he was to read before receiving sentence, saying that Robin
Lyth himself was in York town, and would surrender to that court upon
condition that mercy should be warranted to the prisoners."

"And you would have given yourself up? And without consulting me about
it!"

"Bad, I admit," Robin answered, with a smile; "but not half so bad as
to give up you--which you calmly proposed just now, dear heart. However,
there is no need for any trouble now, except that I am forced to keep
out of sight until other evidence is procured. Mordacks has taken to me,
like a better father, mainly from his paramount love of justice, and of
daring gallantry, as he calls it."

"So it was, and ten times more; heroic self-devotion is a much more
proper term."

"Now don't," said Robin. "If you make me blush, you may guess what I
shall do to hide it--carry the war into the sweet land of the enemy. But
truly, my darling, there was very little danger. And I am up for a much
better joke this time. My august Roman father, who has cast me off,
sails as a very great Indian gun, in a ship of the line, from Spithead,
early in September. The Belleisle is being paid off now, and I have my
certificate, as well as lo