Evening star., 1924-05-12
Mistress Wilding
By Rafael Sabatini
Author of "Scaramouche," "Captan Blood" etc
Copyright

And now, for a second, Mr.. wilding
was in his greatest danger, and this
from the very humaneness of the SER
geant: The fellow advanced to the
Wentworth held the light aloft and
peered down into that six feet of
blackness at the jacent figure.
Shall l give him an ounce Of lead
sergeant. But Wentworth, in his
great haste, had already turned about,
and the light of his lantern no longer
revealed the form of Mr. Wilding.
'There is not the need. The ditch
will do what may remain to be done,
if anything does. Come on, man.
The light passed. steps retreated,
Wentworth's voice was heard by
Wilding some little distance off.
Bring up your muskets"
by the right, turn! March" And
| the tramp, tramp of feet receded rap
Wilding was already sitting up, en-
deavoring to get a breath of purer
air. He rose to his feet, sinking al
most to the top Of his boots in the
oozy slime Foul gases were belched up
| to envelop him. He seized at irregullari-
ties in the bank. and got his head above
| the level of the ground. He thrust
| forward his chin and took great
| air - and never came Muscadine
| sweeter to a drunkard's lips. He
| laughed softly to himself. He was
alone and safe. Wentworth and his
| direction of Penzoy Pound the sounds
| of battle Swelled ever to a greater
| volume. CannonS were booming now
and all was uproar-fiame and shout
der of fastening multitudes, the clash
of steel, the pounding of horses, all
blent to make up the horrid din of
| carnage.
Mr.. Wilding listened and considered
what to do. His first impulse was to
| join the fray. But, bethinking him
| that there could be little place for
him in the confusion that must pre-
vail by now, he reconsidered the mat
| ter, and his thoughts returning TO
Ruth-the wife for whom he had
| been at such pains to preserve him
| self on the very brink of death-.he
resolved to endanger himself no fur
| ther for that night
He dropped back into the ditch
| and waded, ankle deep in slime to the
| other side. There he crawled out, and
| gaining the moor, lay down awhile to
breathe his lungs. But not for long
The dawn was creeping, pale and
| ghostly, across the solid earth, and a
| faint fresh breeze was stirring and
driving the mist in wispy shrouds be-
| fore it If he fingered there he
of royalist soldiers, and that would
| be to undo all that he had done. He
| rose and struck out across the peaty
ground. None knew the moors bet
| ter than did he, and had he been with
| Grey's horse that night it is possible
| things had Jared differently, for he
| had proved a surer. guide than did
| Godfrey, the spy.
Bridgwater and Lupton House. BY
| now Richard would be on his way
| thither with Ruth, and Wilding was
| in haste that she should be reassured
| that he had not fallen to the muskets
of Wentworth's firing party. But
| Bridgwater was far. and he began to
| realize, now that all excitement was
! past, that he was utterly exhausted
his cousin, Lord Gervase. But he
was by no means sure that he might
| count upon a welcome. Gervase had
shown no sympathy for Monmouth
or his partisans, and whilst he woulc
| hardly go so far as to refuse Mr.
Wilding shelter. still Wilding felt an
! aversion to seeking what might be
grudged him. At last he bethought
near at hand: but ne had not been
there since his wedding day. and in
| the meantime he knew that it had
been used as a barrack for the mill
! tia, and had no doubt that II had been
wrecked and plundered- Still, it must
have walls and a roof, and that, for
the time, was all he craved, that he
might rest awhile and recuperate his
wasted forces.
A half hour later he dragged him
self wearily up the avenue between
the elms-looking white as snow in
the pale July dawn-to the clearing
in front of his house.
Desertion was stamped upon the
face of it. Shattered windows and
| hanging shutters everywhere. How
wantonly they had wrecked it. IT
might have been a church and the
militia a regiment of Cromwelfs
| iconoclastic Puritans. The door was
window-one of the door-windows OF
his library-hanging loose upon its
| hinges. He pushed it wide and en-
| tered with a heavy heart Instantly
| something stirred in a corner; a
| fierce growl was followed by furi-
| Gus bark, and a 1.-the brown body
| leapt from the greater into the lesser
at one word of his the hound checked
| suddenly, crouched an instant, then
| with a queer, throaty sound bounded
| forward in a wild delight that robbed
| il on the instant of its voice II
| found it anon and 1eapt about him
| barking furious JOY in spite of all
| his vain endeavors to calm it He
| attention He knew not who-if any
might be in possession of his house
The library, as he looked around
| showed a scene of wreckage that eI-
! cellently matched the exterior. Not
| a picture on the walls, not an arraS
| but had been rent to shreds. The
great luster that had hung from the
| center of the ceiling was gone. Dis
| order reigned along the bookshelves
and vet there and elsewhere there