reuben had not been page boy and footman to my lady fairfax for nothing. standing on the step of her coach he had learned the roads and houses of kensington, chelsey, and the city; carrying my lady's cushion to the theatre, waiting outside her box, and hearing the talk of courtiers in between the acts, he had gained some insight into the world of fashion. thus there was no need for marion to detail instruction about the course he must take in hunting down the gentleman of the sword. exactly two hours after starting, having visited st. james's and two theatres in vain, drawn the coffee houses blank, he finally ran his quarry to earth outside a cockpit in covent garden, where several gentlemen were discussing the rival merits of the birds.

'and my lord duke,' beckenham was saying, 'having lost ￡500 on firebrand——' he broke off as reuben elbowed his way into the group and stood hat in hand. 'what may you want, my lad?'

reuben spoke in a low tone and delivered his letter. captain beckenham was delighted at the summons, but he gave his companions no hint of this. 'lend me your horse, grammont,' said he to one of the group. 'here's a business that will not wait.'

'zounds! and what may be this mighty hurry?'

'service du roi,' replied beckenham gravely. grammont, recognising the fairfax livery, whistled for his servant to lead up the horse.

'give his majesty my ardent remembrances,' he said with a smile, as beckenham sprang into the saddle. 'lucky dog! i say, beckenham,' as the other rode off, 'as you are bound for tunbridge to-morrow, say a word for poor tom grammont!'

mr. beckenham's reply was lost in the dusk as he spurred after reuben. the captain had been one of those who had suffered most from marion's friendly ridicule on the evening of the ball, and his affections being in the nature of a flower that closes when clouds overtake the sun, he had decided that the 'little niece' was not the marvel that society proclaimed her to be. beckenham was a man whose sterling qualities were undeniable; he was known in the regiment for a brave and loyal soldier; but he had been courted and flattered by the women of his acquaintance and looked on with too much favour by mothers of daughters whose marriages were not yet arranged. with somewhat changed ideas beckenham now rode to kensington and presently found himself in the presence of young mistress penrock.

marion, a trifle graver than was her wont, extended her fingers to the gentleman's low bow, and begging him to be seated, in a few words explained the nature of her wishes. grave news from the west had determined her immediate return to cornwall; she prayed the kindness of captain beckenham's escort.

the young soldier's surprise was clear in his face as the nature of marion's wish was revealed, and marion stiffened herself for another battle. she had just dismissed zacchary after an hour's wordy warfare that had left her desperate and weary; nothing but the sound of tears in her voice and her declaration that she would go by the public stage coach had made honest zacchary see that there was nothing for it but to fall in with the outrageous plan. like beckenham, he thought more of the perils of the way than did the young lady herself.

'i should not have dreamed of troubling you, captain beckenham,' finished marion, 'but my uncle is away on a private expedition, and our good friend, colonel sampson, is in the country. failing these two, i have called upon yourself.'

the gentleman rose and paid the friendliness of the last sentence the honour of his lowest bow. when he reseated himself his face was troubled. his usual flattering speech failed him; he went straight to the point, not hiding his regret and anxiety.

'in the first case, mistress penrock, and to my infinite sorrow, i fear it is impossible for me to accompany you. i am in her majesty's suite, and should have been at tunbridge this day but for an affair of the regiment for which her majesty gave me a day's absence. in the second—your pardon—but is it wise, this project of yours?'

marion gave no sign of the dismay she felt as beckenham explained his position; when he offered his criticism of her plan her eyes flashed. she rose.

'as you are in her majesty's service, sir, there is nothing more to be said, except to thank you for your kindness in coming to the house.'

beckenham bowed.

'forgive me,' he said, something of the look his messmates knew coming into his eyes. 'there is something to be said. it would be an ill reward to the friendship with which lady fairfax has always favoured me if i failed her at this point.'

'failed her, sir?'

'failed her, madam. lady fairfax is away, her husband is away, colonel sampson is away. for the moment you are unprotected. i would not let my sister or my mother travel so far without suitable escort. shall i allow a lady whom i would honour as i do either, to set out on such a dangerous road? i must offer a very humble but very real protest, mistress marion. may not the matter wait?'

'it may not wait.'

marion sat down again, her anger undone by the manner of beckenham's speech. the two were silent awhile, the gentleman watching his companion, who was toying with the lid of her aunt's sweetmeat box, her thoughts already running ahead to the problem as to which of the fairfax servants she would choose to take beckenham's place.

'is your mind fully made up, mistress marion?' asked the soldier, his face still troubled.

marion's grey eyes met his own with what was known by her aunt as the penrock look.

'i am setting out for garth to-morrow, with or without escort. that is quite decided. look on it as a fact, captain beckenham,' she added with a fleeting smile, 'and not as a proposition.'

the young man watched the mouth droop at the corners again.

'i will come,' he said suddenly. ''twill mean disgr——' he stopped short.

marion gave him an indulgent glance. 'i would not allow my brother or my father to imperil an already tender reputation, sir,'—she smiled again—'by disobeying royal commands. the same protecting watchfulness i must apply to yourself. to withhold it would be an ill return for the services you have rendered my aunt. take that as final, like the fact of my going.' the gentle tone of her voice and the raillery of her smile eased the straightness of her speech.

'how she has suddenly become grown-up,' mused beckenham, for once tongue-tied. ''tis not the same frightened child i found in the coach that first night. what a villainous ill fortune that i should be thus tied to her majesty's apron!' then striving to put the personal part of the question out of his mind, he bent his thoughts to the problem of the lady's service. 'i have it!' he jumped up, speaking with a boyish eagerness that stood him better in marion's favour than all his courtly airs. 'there's my servant, tony. may i not lend you my servant, mistress marion? he's a brave lad and a tough soldier—worth three others, any day, though i myself say it.'

marion felt a relief she did not show.

'if the servant be like his master, captain beckenham,' she said demurely, 'i am sure he will be worth—three, did you say?—or was it four?'

beckenham laughed outright, then sobered again. 'there's grammont, too,' he said. 'i had forgotten him.'

'lord grammont? no, sir. i do not like lord grammont,' said marion bluntly.

mr. beckenham's head swam a little, but he made no comment on the obvious comparison. 'grammont's a good fellow,' was his reply.

'there's another thing,' said marion suddenly, a vague notion in the back of her mind asserting itself. 'i want your promise that you will keep this affair private.'

beckenham felt a slight shock and his face sobered. 'forgive me,' he said, 'but lady fairfax——'

'you will make an excellent grandfather in time. captain beckenham. 'twere a pity to hasten the day. of course i shall write to tell my aunt and also colonel sampson, and leave a note for my uncle. could anything be more open? i meant that you should keep this matter private from the lord grammonts of your acquaintance. it concerns myself alone.'

'i will promise not to say a word, mistress marion,' said beckenham after a minute's thought, 'if you will on the other hand promise me to take reuben as well. i myself will accompany you as far as hounslow, and then strike across country. i shall feel more comfortable once you are past the heath. but reuben is a youth of parts. he is quick of thought, has all his five senses in excellent working order; whereas my good tony is apt to rely too much upon his sword. with those two, and the excellent zacchary, who is a stalwart fellow, for an escort, i should feel more at ease when i am called on to report this affair to my lady fairfax. even then, 'twill be an ordeal,' he added with a comical air.

'fear not,' smiled marion. 'i will make your case plain enough for my aunt's full forgiveness. 'tis i who will have to meet her anger, some time, but not yourself.'

beckenham shook his head. 'a man who has the honour of being a friend has nevertheless a certain responsibility.'

'i think i will take reuben, if he will come,' said marion, her spirits rising as the difficulties fell away. 'if he will come! is there a youth in london who would not covet the privilege more than all——' beckenham stopped short as he met marion's look.

for a few minutes more the two talked of the journey. then marion rose, saying how very busied she must be in the short time left, and thanked the soldier for his kindness.

'i trust,' said captain beckenham, 'that you may find your trouble—your errand that causes this urgency—not so great as you may think when you reach your journey's end.'

marion started and her eyelids drooped. then she held out her hand, and the eager words beckenham had to say concerning his sorrow at her departure from kensington froze before the distant, sorrowful look in her eyes. he lifted the fingers to his lips and turned on his heel. at the door he paused. marion was looking in his direction, but her gaze was on something remote. the young man bowed again in silence; marion, recollecting herself as the servant appeared, dropped a low curtsey and bade captain beckenham a very good evening.

with heavy steps she mounted to her bedroom. in the adjoining chamber simone was busy with the travelling boxes. the door between the two rooms was ajar, and simone, seeing her young mistress enter, ran forward and stood mutely waiting. marion went to the open window and leaned her head wearily on the casement. the song of a nightingale in the lanes beyond kensington village came to her ears.

'listen,' said marion, as simone stole up to her side, 'listen to yonder bird. how can he sing so? there is no sorrow in the world for him!'

'nay, mademoiselle, 'tis sorrow tunes his song, you forget. but, mademoiselle——'

'yes?'

'pardon, but i should so like to know——'

''tis well. captain beckenham cannot come, but he is lending his servant, and i have also promised to take reuben.'

marion roused herself and went across to her writing table, glancing into the adjoining room as she passed the door.

'all packed? good. you have done bravely, simone. now i must write to my aunt and uncle, and colonel sampson.'

simone still lingered. 'mademoiselle——'

'what is it?'

'i have been thinking about——'

a knock at the door interrupted her. 'come in,' called marion, bending over her paper. a subdued exclamation from simone made marion turn her head. zacchary and reuben stood together in the doorway. reuben was stepping forward, but zacchary caught his sleeve.

''tain't but me, mistress marion,' began zacchary, his free hand touching his forehead. 'there bain't no gainsaying this 'ere young man. her's some set on travelling wi' we to-morrow.'

'by your leave, madam,' said the cockney youth, 'it would give me the greatest pleasure.'

'a did say,' put in zacchary, with a sidelong withering look at the man who borrowed the speeches of the great, 'a did say as 'tweren't no use nohow. stands to reason a lunnon man knows nothing o' country going. but if you'm so minded, mistress, as to allow un, a might serve to hold the horses' heads—'lowing her knows head from tail—ony roads her'll run back fast enough when the highwaymen start on we.'

'zacchary, zacchary!' said marion. 'and 'twas yourself told me of reuben's valiant fight with footpad at knightsbridge yonder, two years ago.'

'a don't deny as a be a fule sometimes,' said zacchary meditatively, scratching his head, 'but it bain't the same——'

'i'm busy now,' interrupted marion. 'take reuben downstairs and tell him as much as you can of the journey up to prepare him for the journey down. i shall be very glad of your company, reuben. you may ride on the coach seat with zacchary. are your carbines ready, zacchary?'

'ay, mistress, but a were saying——'

'and plenty of shot?'

'us 'as enough shot to fight the battle o' sedgemoor all over again,' declared the cornishman.

'then 'tis highly likely you won't pull the trigger once, zacchary. but, reuben, you need not fear these tales. the roads have been quieter, i think, since the coming and going of the king's men these months. my father and i came up to kensington without being murdered on the coach steps. and, in any case, captain beckenham's servant is coming as outrider. from what i hear,' added marion, 'he shoots three men at once.'

'presarve 's!' said zacchary. 'like as not her'll shoot we, mistress.'

marion took up her quill. 'be ready to start at eight o'clock,' she said briefly.

'can't think what have come to the little maid,' mused zacchary, as he lumbered downstairs in the wake of the delighted reuben. 'her's growing more like the admur'l every day.'

meanwhile simone waited, sadly noting how soon the grave expression had overrun the smile with which her young mistress had talked to zacchary.

'you had something to say, simone?'

'mademoiselle, have you thought about money?'

marion laid down her pen again with an exclamation of dismay. 'i had quite forgotten money!'

'i had been wondering. you'll want a good deal, mademoiselle.'

marion counted out her purse. 'and there are two guineas in my jewel box.'

'madame romaine has the little money i have saved,' remarked simone. 'i never thought of asking her for it. but it is very little.'

'it is kind of you to think of that, simone. what can i do? oh, if only colonel sampson had not gone away on that sudden journey! what can i do?'

'mademoiselle,' said simone after, a pause, 'when ladies find themselves in need of money, they generally borrow on their jewellery.'

with her forehead resting on her hand marion thought awhile.

'there is no other way that i can see,' she said in a low tone, 'and she would not mind. we shall have to sell the pearl necklace, simone.'

'there is no need to sell, mademoiselle,' explained simone. 'the goldsmith will lend you the money, and you can leave it with him and get it again later.'

'but,' said marion in dismay, a new thought striking her, 'that means delay. what is the hour now?'

'close on ten o'clock, mademoiselle. impossible, of course, to-night. but if mademoiselle will trust me, i will go up to lombard street to-morrow morning, and seek a man i know of there.'

'how will you go?'

'my lady left the small coach, and there are plenty of horses. i will be back with the money by the time mademoiselle is ready.'

marion turned with a sigh to her letter. 'be sure to take a servant with you in the coach. i cannot think what i should do without you, simone.'

simone dropped on one knee, and laid her cheek against marion's idle hand. 'je ne cherche aucun plaisir que de vous servir, mademoiselle.'

'tais-toi!' said marion huskily, her fingers touching the glossy head. 'i have not time to weep.'

with her mouth in set lines, marion wrote her letters. when they were directed and sealed, she found simone waiting to undress her. her jewel box, a present from lady fairfax, was by the bed. marion took from it the case containing the pearl and turquoise necklace, and handing it to simone, dismissed her for the night.

she sank on her knees by the high, canopied bed. 'our father,' began the tremulous whisper. then the golden brown head fell on the coverlet. 'o roger, roger!' she sobbed.