Arabella Stuart. G. P. R. James

neither," cried Lakyn; "'tis but a race for a stoup of wine with those two gentlemen behind;" and with some difficulty he kept his horse from dashing forward, determined, now that he had met with company, not to lose sight of it again if he could help it.

      "Why, you seem mighty happy, ladies and gentlemen," he continued. "May I ask which way your steps are bent?"

      "We are going to meet the king as he comes from Newark," said a jolly-looking man. "We have got an address and petition from the town of Oakham, drawn up by our good clerk."

      "Then, by your leave," cried Lakyn, springing to the ground, "I will go on with you. 'Tis not good riding alone in such days as these."

      "Alone!" exclaimed the other. "Why, you have a queer notion of solitude, having two companions with you."

      "One may have companions that are not comrades," answered Lakyn; "and, to say sooth, these are no friends of mine."

      "Why, how now!" cried the black-browed man, riding up at this moment, about fifty yards in advance of his fellow-traveller; "why, how now, master serving-man, you have soon come to an end of your race. We shall be at the other side of the common first, and make you pay your losings."

      "Ride on, then," said Lakyn, in a jeering tone. "With two such jades as yours I don't fear you. I'll give you a start half-way to the other side, and beat you, notwithstanding."

      The man turned a grim look of a somewhat menacing character upon him, and replied, "We will make you pay, if you lose, depend upon it."

      "No fear, no fear," answered Lakyn; "ride on, and spare your horses' wind till I come up with you. I'll make you use whip and spur before I have done with you."

      As he spoke, the other stranger joined them; but he took no part in the conversation, only saying to his companion, "Come on, Slingsby, come on!" and forward they rode together.

      "Why, you will lose your stoup of wine," said the jolly traveller under the trees, addressing Lakyn, while the others proceeded on their way.

      "Small payment for good deliverance," rejoined the serving-man. "I love not the looks of those two gentlemen; and, as I am going on an errand from good Sir Harry West, my master, to his highness the king, I must risk nothing till it is accomplished.

      "What, Sir Harry West, of Bourne?" cried a grave-looking gentleman in ruff. "If you be one of his people, right gladly will we have you in our company; for, in the question of the meadow at Merton, he decided in favour of Oakham, like a worthy good gentleman, as he is."

      "Those are his arms, I think," said Matthew Lakyn, pointing with pride to the badge upon his sleeve.

      "To be sure! to be sure!" replied the grave personage, putting a pair of large horn spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. "Polly, my dear, look, those are Sir Harry West's arms. Don't you remember how he said to me, 'Thou art a very sedate and reverend person, Master Smallit, and have given your evidence in a devout and proper manner?'"

      The girl confirmed her father's recollection; and the good townspeople of Oakham seemed to think that they could not show too much civility and attention to the servant of Sir Harry West. They were rather slow, it is true, in their motions; but, nevertheless, Matthew Lakyn was willing to put up with a little tardiness, for the sake of the security their company afforded, and, accordingly, he not only proceeded in their company to Grantham that night, but begged leave to make one of the party to Newark the next day. His patience was somewhat tried, it is true, in the morning, by the very different proceedings of the good people of Oakham, from the military rapidity and precision which usually attended his master's journeys when they took place. The hour appointed for setting out was in itself somewhat late, being no earlier than nine; but Mrs. Polty, the wife of one of the principal personages in the company, had a queasy stomach, and could not travel till she had broken her fast. The morning-meal took more time than had been expected, and half an hour was spent in settling the landlord's score; then it was discovered that one of the horses had a shoe loose; and then half the baskets and panniers were still unpacked. Thus, what between eating, and drinking, and scolding, and grumbling, and shoeing the horse, and packing the panniers, and loading the asses, and mounting the steeds, the hand of Grantham dial pointed to twenty minutes past eleven; and then ten minutes more were spent in bidding good-bye to the host and hostess of the inn, and laughing and tittering at the parting jests.

      The fourteen or fifteen miles which lay between Grantham and Newark occupied much more time than was required even by the slow pace at which they marched, for numerous parties were on the road, either coming or going to the good town upon Trent, where the king had arrived during the preceding morning, and with each person who would stop to indulge them, the good townsfolk of Oakham paused to gossip, making manifold inquiries as to the court, and the king's appearance and demeanour; on all of which points they received the same sort of satisfactory information which is usually afforded by common rumour. By some persons they were informed that the king was tall, and thin, and fair; by another, that he was a fat, swarthy man, with trunk-hose of prodigious dimensions, and a large Spanish hat upon his head. Again, they were assured that the court displayed great pomp, and was very unapproachable; and again, that all was freedom, and gaiety, and rejoicing.

      Thus proceeding, it was near four o'clock before the little party entered Newark, and then it was with the greatest difficulty that they found accommodation in a fourth-rate inn, at the extreme verge of the town, on the side of Nottingham. All was bustle and confusion in the place, notwithstanding the proclamation; the court-yard was crowded with horses; and eating and drinking, which had begun at five in the morning, was still going on with undiminished voracity. A buzz of manifold voices came from every room in the house, above which arose, from time to time, various loud and angry calls for tapsters, ostlers, and landlord. Margery, the host's pretty daughter, had had more kisses ravished from her in one day than ever she bestowed willingly in her life; and the landlord, bustling about, and vowing that he should be ruined and undone by the confusion that reigned in his establishment, took ample care that if any one did, indeed, escape his vigilant eyes without paying their scores, the more honest, or less fortunate, should abundantly make up for the deficiency.

      For some time it seemed, though the citizens of Oakham had acquired a somewhat importunate appetite on the road, that no provisions were to be had for love or money; and, leaving Masters Smallit and Polty to settle that affair as they might, and get all ready against his return, Matthew Lakyn, with due reverence for the business with which he was intrusted, went out at once on feet, to deliver the letter to Sir Robert Cecil.

      Well aware of the difficulty of getting to a great man's presence in the midst of a court, Lakyn determined, in the first place, to inquire for one of the servants of the famous minister, with several of whom he had been acquainted when his master had frequented the gay scenes of the capital. On this errand he was bustling along through the crowds which nearly blocked up the principal street of the town, when, in a group of persons at one of the doors, he caught sight of the well-known colours of the Cecil family, and the badge, with its barry and escutcheoned field; and making his way through, he was soon shaking hands with an old compotator, whom he had not seen for several years. His business was easily explained; but, on hearing of the letter, the serving-man put on a wise and diplomatic look, such as official personages assume to nip a request in the bud before being driven actually to refuse it.

      "Is it a petition?" he asked; "for 'tis not easy to bring petitions to my good master. He abhors them as a love-sick maiden hates cheese."

      "Oh, dear, no," replied Lakyn, with a proud toss of the head. "My master is much too great a man, as you well know, to make petitions. If any one wants his services they must petition him, and are very likely to get refused even then. I do not know, for I have not seen, what the letter contains; but I rather think it is a civil excuse for not coming to wait upon the King. But, you know, he is tired of courts, and wishes to spend the rest of his life in peace, doing good to all around him by his wonderful wisdom."

      "Oh, if that be all," cried the servant, "it will soon be done. It is of those who come to court great men are afraid, not those who stay away from it. Come away up with me to the house yonder; and, as Sir Robert gets off his horse after the hunting,