Micah Clarke

Having given my orders that Covenant should be saddled and bridled by daybreak, I had gone to my room and was preparing for a long night's rest, when Sir Gervas, who slept in the same apartment, came dancing in with a bundle of papers waving over his head.

"Three guesses, Clarke!" he cried. "What would you most desire?"

"Letters from Havant," said I eagerly.

"Right," he answered, throwing them into my lap. "Three of them, and not a woman's hand among them. Sink me, if I can understand what you have been doing all your life.

'How can youthful heart resign
Lovely woman, sparkling wine?'

But you are so lost in your news that you have not observed my transformation."

"Why, wherever did you get these?" I asked in astonishment, for he was attired in a delicate plum-colored suit with gold buttons and trimmings, set off by silken hosen and Spanish leather shoes with roses on the instep.

"It smacks more of the court than of the camp," quoth Sir Gervas, rubbing his hands and glancing down at himself with some satisfaction. "I am also revictualled in the matter of ratafia and orange-flower water, together with two new wigs, a bob and a court, a pound of the Imperial snuff from the sign of the Black Man, a box of De Crepigny's hair powder, my fox skin muff, and several other necessaries. But I hinder you in your reading."

"I have seen enough to tell me that all is well at home," I answered, glancing over my father's letter. "But how came these things?"

"Some horsemen have come in from Petersfield, bearing them with them. As to my little box, which a fair friend of mine in town packed for me, it was to be forwarded to Bristol, where I am now supposed to be, and should be were it not for my good