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with my lips pursed up and my eyes cast down, like a poor nun who has renounced mankind—why, as I have not renounced mankind, and don't mean to renounce mankind, I won't have it—there! |
| Mer. | Nay, he'll not check thee more than is good for thee, Phœbe! He's a brave fellow, and bravest among brave fellows, and yet it seems but yesterday that he robbed the Lieutenant's orchard. |
Enter Leonard Meryll.
| Leon. | Father! |
| Mer. | Leonard! my brave boy! I'm right glad to see thee, and so is Phoebe! |
| Phœ. | Aye—hast thou brought Colonel Fairfax's reprieve? |
| Leon. | Nay, I have here a despatch for the Lieutenant, but no reprieve for the Colonel! |
| Phœ. | Poor gentleman! poor gentleman! |
| Leon. | Aye, I would I had brought better news. I'd give my right hand—nay, my body—my life, to save his! |
| Mer. | Dost thou speak in earnest, my lad? |
| Leon. | Aye, father—I'm no braggart. Did he not save thy life? and am I not his foster-brother? |
| Mer. | Then hearken to me. Thou hast come to join the Yeomen of the Guard! |
| Leon. | Well? |
| Mer. | None has seen thee but ourselves? |
| Leon. | And a sentry, who took but scant notice of me. |
| Mer. | Now to prove thy words. Give me the despatch, and get thee hence at once! Here is money, and I'll send thee more. Lie hidden for a space, and let no one know. I'll convey a suit of Yeoman's uniform to the Colonel's cell—he shall shave off his beard, so that none shall know him, and I'll own him as my son, the brave Leonard Meryll, who saved his flag and cut his way through fifty foes who thirsted for his life. He will be welcomed without question by my brother-yeomen, I'll warrant that. Now, how to get access to the Colonel's cell? (To Phœbe.) The key is with thy sour-faced admirer, Wilfred Shadbolt. |
| Phœ. | (demurely). I think—I say, I think—I can get anything I want from Wilfred. I think—mind I say, I think—you may leave that to me. |
| Mer. | Then get thee hence at once, lad—and bless thee for this sacrifice. |
| Phœ. | And take my blessing, too, dear, dear Leonard! |
| Leon. | And thine, eh? Humph! Thy love is new-born; wrap it up carefully, lest it take cold and die. |
