he parliamentary leader took care that none of
them came into Harby park, and did not, as we may gather from
occasional asperities in the "Diurnal," greatly encourage even the
visits of Mr. Marfleet himself.

The full chronicle of that siege does not concern us here. Those that
are curious in the matter may seek for ampler information, if they
will, in the Marfleet "Diurnal." Thanks to its situation, thanks to
the experience of adventurer Halfman in barricading windows and so
loop-holing them for musketry as fully to command the moat on all
sides, Harby Hall proved a hard nut to crack. It was but child's
play, indeed, if you chose to compare it with the later leaguer of
Lathom, but to those immediately concerned, and to Harby village, all
open mouths and open eyes, the business was a very Iliad. There was a
great deal of powder burned and but little blood shed. The little
Parliament party soon learned that there was no taking the place by a
rush or a ruse, that it was discretion to keep due distance and
invest. For the besieged, on the other hand, there was no chance of a
sortie, their numbers being so few and their provisions were sorely
scarce. If no one could for the moment get into Harby, neither could
any one get out of Harby.

So day succeeded day, and Halfman found them all enchanted days. He
was inevitably much in the company of the lady, and he played the
part of an honest gentleman ably. He made the most of his odd
scholarship, of that part of his knowledge of the world best likely
to commend him to the favor of a gentlewoman; his buccaneering
enterprises veiled themselves under the vague phrase of foreign
service. He had been in tight places a thousand times; he weighed
them as trifles against a chance to win money and the living toys
that money can buy. But it was new to him to hold a fort under the
command of a woman, and the woman herself was the newest, strangest
thing he had ever known. Ever the lover of his abandoned art, he
conceived shrewdly enough the character that would not displease
Brilliana and played it very consistently: the soldier of fortune
true, but one that had tincture of letters and would be a scholar if
he could. So the siege hours were also hours of such companionship as
he had never experienced, ever desired; he ripened in the sunshine of
a girl's kindliness, and he deliberately tied, as it were, the foul
pages of his book of memory together with the pink ribbon of a girl's
garter