De Courcy made no reply. He realized that this was not a time for controversy. A standing man well armed has manifest advantages over an enemy bruised and on the ground, and some thought of this came to the mind of the generous victor now that his anger was cooling. He felt that it was rather undignified to threaten a helpless adversary, and if he were a traitor to the King, let the King deal with him. So, whistling to his horse, he sprang on his back, and rode to Banbury at a slower pace than he had traversed the same highway some minutes before.

The hostler made grievous pretence that he had been all but murdered by his fall, and Armstrong examined him minutely, as he would have done with a favourite horse, pronouncing him none the worse for his tumbling, but rather the better, as he was now more supple than he had been for years. He rewarded the man lavishly, nevertheless, and gave him the recipe for a liniment good for man and beast, should after-complications ensue.

Over The Border — Part 169

“I hope, sir,” whined the man, “that you did not treat the gentleman you were in such haste to meet, as roughly as you did me.”

Over The Border — Part 169

“Very much the same,” cried Armstrong, with a laugh, “but you are the better off, because I left him neither gold nor medicine; taking from him rather than bestowing.”

Over The Border — Part 169

“Ah, is _that_ your game?” whispered the hostler, a glint of admiration lighting up his eyes. “Dang me, if I did not take thee for a gentleman of the road when first I clapped eyes on thee. Be sure I’ll say naught, for I’ve cut a purse myself in younger days. Those times were better than now. There’s too many soldiers and too few gentlemen with fat purses travelling the roads nowadays for our trade.”

Again William laughed, and shook hands with the old man, as one highwayman in a good way of business might condescend to another less prosperous, and the veteran hostler boasted of his intimacy with a noted freebooter for the rest of his days.

“Rub down my horse well, while I am at breakfast,” said Armstrong, and, receiving every assurance that the beast of so excellent a highwayman should get earnest attention, he went to the inn and there found Frances awaiting him.

The girl was standing by the window, which was low and long, with a valance of crimpled spotted muslin running athwart the lower half of it. A bench was fixed beneath the window, and on this bench the girl had rested a knee, while her cheek was placed against the diamond panes. The light struck her face and illuminated it strongly, and she stood so still that she seemed to form part of a tableau which might have been entitled “Watching.” On the table placed in the centre of the room, breakfast was spread.