best serve King Henry, who must in his heart be loth to have his zealous friend put to death through the falsehood of faction. "And now, gentle sir," he continued, "be guided by me; the king loves peace; he loves state privacy; the very presence of the duke in this country is a mystery; you will do agreeable service by hushing up this youthful frolic. Permit his highness to accompany me; I will make fitting report to his majesty, who will be grateful withal."
There was a kind of confused tallying in the story; for Richard's mysterious words were at no discord with Desmond's explanations; and his excessively youthful and perfectly noble appearance were further corroboration. Digby liked not the responsibility of keeping him: he spoke of sending for the bishop of Durham. Desmond exclaimed, "A soldier have recourse to a priest—this England is a strange country! Do as you will; only until the thumber of missals arrive, this is no place of entertainment fur the prince. We will receive you and your clericus at Walbrook; and I will entertain the royal gentleman till you come."
Digby still looked blank and uncertain. Richard, who had remained silent, now spoke: "Farewell, good sir: in truth, I need your excuse for my impertinent visit; but here it ends. When I travel to Scotland, I will report the favour I met at your hands."
This sufficed. Sir John sullenly yielded: with a mixture of fear and deference, he attended his visitors to the court; they crossed the drawbridge; and ere the Tower-gates closed behind them, they heard the lieutenant order out a guard and his own horse, that without loss of time he might communicate with the bishop.
The duke and his preserver rode gently enough down Tower Hill: scarce had they reached the foot, before the earl gave a sudden command to his followers, who turned one way, as he, York, and Monina, who had left the Tower at the same time, and was mounted on one of Desmond's attendant's horses, went another. "Au galoppe, dear my lord!" cried the earl, "we have but a short hour's grace—this way—still the river to our left."
They galloped along with loosened reins. Arriving at the Vale of Holborn, they followed the upward course of the Fleet, so as to reach the open country; and many a wild field they crossed, and briary lane they threaded—the country was flat, marshy, wild; skirted in various directions by brown wintry woods, rarely interspersed by hamlets. The river was their only guide; they followed its course for several miles, till they
