oad (which had never been repaired since the Carnes were a power
in the land), and sat side by side beneath the crumbling arch,
with their long fangs glistening and red eyes rolling in the silver
moonlight, while their deep chests panted for the chance of good fresh
human victuals. Then Carne gave his horse to ancient Jerry, saying,
"Feed him, and take him with his saddle on to the old yew-tree in half
an hour. Wait there for Captain Charron, and for me. You are not to go
away till I come to you. Who is in the old place now? Think well before
you answer me."

"No one now in the place but her"--the old man lifted his elbow, as
a coachman does in passing--"and him down in the yellow jug. All the
French sailors are at sea. Only she won't go away; and she moaneth
worse than all the owls and ghosts. Ah, your honour should never 'a done
that--respectable folk to Springhaven too!"

"It was a slight error of judgment, Jerry. What a mealy lot these
English are, to make such a fuss about a trifle! But I am too
soft-hearted to blow her up. Tell her to meet me in half an hour by the
broken dial, and to bring the brat, and all her affairs in a bundle such
as she can carry, or kick down the hill before her. In half an hour, do
you understand? And if you care for your stiff old bones, get out of the
way by that time."

In that half-hour Carne gathered in small compass, and strapped up in a
little "mail"--as such light baggage then was called--all his important
documents, despatches, letters, and papers of every kind, and the cash
he was entrusted with, which he used to think safer at Springhaven. Then
he took from a desk which was fixed to the wall a locket bright with
diamonds, and kissed it, and fastened it beneath his neck-cloth. The
wisp of hair inside it came not from any young or lovely head, but from
the resolute brow of his mother, the woman who hated England. He should
have put something better to his mouth; for instance, a good beef
sandwich. But one great token of his perversion was that he never did
feed well--a sure proof of the unrighteous man, as suggested by the
holy Psalmist, and more distinctly put by Livy in the character he gives
Hannibal.

Regarding as a light thing his poor unfurnished stomach, Carne mounted
the broken staircase, in a style which might else have been difficult.
He had made up his mind to have one last look at the broad lands of his
ancestors, from the last that ever should be seen of the wall