in search, was this priest-led and
woman-officered company; yet their music played martial tunes, and, to
judge by the eyes and carriage of some--Miss Keeldar, for
instance--these sounds awoke, if not a martial, yet a longing spirit.
Old Helstone, turning by chance, looked into her face; and he laughed,
and she laughed at him.

"There is no battle in prospect," he said; "our country does not want us
to fight for it. No foe or tyrant is questioning or threatening our
liberty. There is nothing to be done. We are only taking a walk. Keep
your hand on the reins, captain, and slack the fire of that spirit. It
is not wanted, the more's the pity."

"Take your own advice, doctor," was Shirley's response. To Caroline she
murmured, "I'll borrow of imagination what reality will not give me. We
are not soldiers--bloodshed is not my desire--or if we are, we are
soldiers of the Cross. Time has rolled back some hundreds of years, and
we are bound on a pilgrimage to Palestine. But no; that is too
visionary. I need a sterner dream. We are Lowlanders of Scotland,
following a Covenanting captain up into the hills to hold a meeting out
of the reach of persecuting troopers. We know that battle may follow
prayer; and as we believe that in the worst issue of battle heaven must
be our reward, we are ready and willing to redden the peat-moss with our
blood. That music stirs my soul; it wakens all my life; it makes my
heart beat--not with its temperate daily pulse, but with a new,
thrilling vigour. I almost long for danger--for a faith, a land, or at
least a lover to defend."

"Look, Shirley!" interrupted Caroline. "What is that red speck above
Stilbro' Brow? You have keener sight than I. Just turn your eagle eye to
it."

Miss Keeldar looked. "I see," she said; then added presently, "there is
a line of red. They are soldiers--cavalry soldiers," she subjoined
quickly. "They ride fast. There are six of them. They will pass us. No;
they have turned off to the right. They saw our procession, and avoid it
by making a circuit. Where are they going?"

"Perhaps they are only exercising their horses."

"Perhaps so. We see them no more now."

Mr. Helstone here spoke.

"We shall pass through Royd Lane, to reach Nunnely Common by a short
cut," said he.

And into the straits of Royd Lane they accordingly defiled. It was very
narrow--so narrow that only two could walk abreast without falling into
the ditch which ran along each side. They had gaine