Arabella Stuart. G. P. R. James

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      "I see that," replied George Brooke; "and I grieve that those bright eyes should run over. But what is the cause?"

      "I know not where to go to," exclaimed the girl, clasping her hands together, and addressing her words rather to Heaven than him.

      "Go to?" cried her companion, gazing at her with his wild and reckless spirit ready for any folly or for any crime. "Why, come with me, sweet one.--I will take good care of thee."

      The girl looked up in his face with an inquiring glance; but there was in it no look of that deep feeling, that kindhearted benevolence, which gives confidence and hope. There was the light, half-serious, half-jesting smile, which mocks at all things, even while they are felt most weighty; the sort of scoffing carelessness with which the wicked strive to alleviate the burden of their own conscience. There was, moreover, that expression of habitual dissipation which always soon marks the man who gives himself up to vice.

      The girl shook her head mournfully, and made no answer.

      "Nay, nay," continued George Brooke, assuming a more serious and more feeling tone; "if any evil have really befallen you, tell me what it is, and I will help you if I can."

      "You cannot," said the girl, "you cannot. I have left a very wicked old man, who brought me over to this country two years ago, to sing before the gentry and play upon the lute; and I know not where to go to."

      "But why did you leave him?" asked George Brooke.

      "Because he wanted me to do what is wrong," replied the girl, the colour mounting in her face and temples; and again she burst into tears. Alas! she spoke to one who had no respect for, scarcely any belief in, virtue; and his evil purposes were but confirmed by what he saw and heard.

      "Nay," he said, "you shall tell me the whole story, and if it is as I think, I will bring you to a place where you shall be well taken care of and kindly treated. My horse has gone lame, so I will tie him to a tree, and sit down by you to hear your little history."

      The girl offered no opposition; and he did as he said, fully resolved to take her with him to London, under the pretence of providing for her, and then using his opportunities as he might think fit.

      All the first part of her tale she told without hesitation, that she was a Milanese by birth, and had been brought over--purchased, in fact, from her parents, by an English perfumer and charlatan, who had visited Italy in search of rare drugs and essences. For some time his expectations of making money by her little talents had not been disappointed. She had sung and played upon the lute, she said, before the Lord Southampton, and even the Queen; but the state of agitation at the English Court during the illness of Elizabeth put a stop to his gains; and he had taken her from place to place through the country, obtaining but little repayment for his trouble. Of the causes which induced her suddenly to quit him, however, he could obtain no farther account than that which she had already given, "that he wished her to do what was wrong." But George Brooke put his own construction on her words, and as she had described the charlatan as old and ugly, expressing great personal disgust towards him, he fancied that she might entertain very different feelings towards a younger and a handsomer man. What farther took place may not require detail. Notwithstanding the urgent necessity for his presence in London, he sat talking with her for nearly an hour, and whither passion hurried him on, matters not; but at the end of that time a loud scream and cry for help rang along the lane, and reached the ears of a party of horsemen coming slowly from the side of Salisbury.

      "Ha! there is some violence going forward," cried Sir Harry West, putting his horse into a gallop. "Come on, come on!--Why, how now, Master Brooke?" he continued, as he rode up to the little well, beside which the girl was standing, all trembling and in tears. "Offering violence to a woman? Fie, sir, fie!"

      "Ride on your way, Sir Harry West," replied Brooke, fiercely, "and mind your own affairs." But even while he spoke, two or three men on foot came down the lane, from the other side, exclaiming, "Ah, here she is, here she is, and here's the fellow who has lured her away.--Have them both before the justice; he will put the rogue in the stocks, I warrant you, and give the wench an exhortation."

      George Brooke would now have given his right hand that he had not been tempted to lose time which was but too precious in his circumstances; for he easily comprehended that he might now be detained somewhat longer than would be pleasant to him. Indeed, the manner in which the men approached him, and the words which they used, showed him clearly that he himself was one of the objects of their constabular indignation; and, if anything had been wanting, one of the rural Dogberries exclaimed, running up to lay his hand upon the gentleman's collar, "I comprehend you, sir, in the King's name, and charge you go along with me."

      At the same time, two of his companions took hold of the girl by the arm, saying, "Come along, pretty mistress, come along to Justice Scully."

      George Brooke, however, grasped the hilt of his sword, exclaiming, "Stand back, fellow--put a finger on me if you dare! You are a fool, and know not what you are about. I am a gentleman, the brother of Lord Cobham."

      "Gentle or not gentle," replied the constable, "lord or no lord, I am sent to comprehend you, and, please God, so I will, for enticing the girl away from her master. Draw your sword against the law, if you dare. All you standers-by, I charge you in the King's name, give me help. You see he has got his sword out, and may do me a damage."

      "You had better go quietly," said Sir Harry West; "it is your duty not to resist the civil power."

      "I have no time, Sir Harry, to spend upon such fooleries," said George Brooke; "I am in haste for London, sir."

      "You had plenty of time," replied Sir Harry West, "to offer violence to an undefended girl. You were in no haste but now."

      "Pshaw!" cried George Brooke, who saw that he had placed himself in an unpleasant predicament, "my horse had cast a shoe, and it takes no long time to snatch a kiss from a pair of ruddy lips by the roadside."

      "Nor to do any other bad action," said Sir Harry West; "but you had better go quietly, sir; for if the man requires us in the King's name, we must give him aid to make you."

      "I had thought," replied the other, thrusting his sword angrily into the sheath, "that gentlemen were bound to aid gentlemen."

      "When their deeds are those of gentlemen," replied Sir Harry West; "if yours be such, you have nothing to fear; if they be not, you have no right to apply to me for assistance: I will go with you, however, and vouch for who you are. Do you intend to resist?"

      "Not unless he puts his hand upon me," replied George Brooke; "if he do, I will as surely send my sword through him as I live. Let him lead on; there is no fear of my escaping, with Sir Harry West at the head of the watch."

      "You cannot make me angry, sir," replied the old knight. "Constable, do not touch him, he will go quietly.--What is it, Lakyn?" he continued, speaking to his worthy servant, who had dismounted, and, after conversing for a minute or two with the girl, had approached his master and pulled his sleeve.

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