nk stone wall, its crooked, dirty streets, its high-gabled wooden
houses, over which rose the sharp spire of St. Paul's, towering high
into the golden air. Before them stretched the straight, broad highway
of the Strand, on one side the great houses and palaces of princely
priests and powerful nobles; on the other the Covent Garden, (or the
Convent Garden, as it was then called), and the rolling country, where
great stone windmills swung their slow-moving arms in the damp, soft
April breeze, and away in the distance the Scottish Palace, the White
Hall, and Westminster.

It was the first time that Myles had seen famous London town. In that
dim and distant time of his boyhood, six months before, he would
have been wild with delight and enthusiasm. Now he jogged along with
Gascoyne, gazing about him with calm interest at open shops and booths
and tall, gabled houses; at the busy throng of merchants and craftsmen,
jostling and elbowing one another; at townsfolk--men and dames--picking
their way along the muddy kennel of a sidewalk. He had seen so much of
the world that he had lost somewhat of interest in new things. So he
did not care to tarry, but rode, with a mind heavy with graver matters,
through the streets and out through the Temple Bar direct for Mackworth
House, near the Savoy Palace.

It was with a great deal of interest that Myles and his patron regarded
one another when they met for the first time after that half-year which
the young soldier had spent in France. To Myles it seemed somehow very
strange that his Lordship's familiar face and figure should look so
exactly the same. To Lord Mackworth, perhaps, it seemed even more
strange that six short months should have wrought so great a change in
the young man. The rugged exposure in camp and field during the hard
winter that had passed had roughened the smooth bloom of his boyish
complexion and bronzed his fair skin almost as much as a midsummer's sun
could have done. His beard and mustache had grown again, (now heavier
and more mannish from having been shaved), and the white seam of a scar
over the right temple gave, if not a stern, at least a determined look
to the strong, square-jawed young face. So the two stood for a while
regarding one another. Myles was the first to break the silence.

"My Lord," said he, "thou didst send for me to come back to England;
behold, here am I."

"When didst thou land, Sir Myles?" said the Earl.

"I and my squire landed at D