for the journey; for making
which, and for other expenses, he had been furnished with sufficient
funds by Tressilian. And thus, about noon, after the Countess had been
refreshed by the sound repose of several hours, they resumed their
journey, with the purpose of making the best of their way to Kenilworth,
by Coventry and Warwick. They were not, however, destined to travel far
without meeting some cause of apprehension.

It is necessary to premise that the landlord of the inn had informed
them that a jovial party, intended, as he understood, to present some
of the masques or mummeries which made a part of the entertainment with
which the Queen was usually welcomed on the royal Progresses, had left
the village of Donnington an hour or two before them in order to
proceed to Kenilworth. Now it had occurred to Wayland that, by attaching
themselves in some sort to this group as soon as they should overtake
them on the road, they would be less likely to attract notice than if
they continued to travel entirely by themselves. He communicated his
idea to the Countess, who, only anxious to arrive at Kenilworth without
interruption, left him free to choose the manner in which this was to
be accomplished. They pressed forward their horses, therefore, with the
purpose of overtaking the party of intended revellers, and making the
journey in their company; and had just seen the little party, consisting
partly of riders, partly of people on foot, crossing the summit of a
gentle hill, at about half a mile's distance, and disappearing on
the other side, when Wayland, who maintained the most circumspect
observation of all that met his eye in every direction, was aware that
a rider was coming up behind them on a horse of uncommon action,
accompanied by a serving-man, whose utmost efforts were unable to keep
up with his master's trotting hackney, and who, therefore, was fain
to follow him at a hand gallop. Wayland looked anxiously back at these
horsemen, became considerably disturbed in his manner, looked back
again, and became pale, as he said to the lady, "That is Richard
Varney's trotting gelding; I would know him among a thousand nags. This
is a worse business than meeting the mercer."

"Draw your sword," answered the lady, "and pierce my bosom with it,
rather than I should fall into his hands!"

"I would rather by a thousand times," answered Wayland, "pass it through
his body, or even mine own. But to say truth, fighting is not my be