Mrs. Calveriey had a very pretty pony phaeton, which she was accustomed to drive herself. Easy as a lounging-chair, and with the two long-tailed bay ponies attached to it, the luxurious little vehicle formed a very nice turn-out.

One fine morning, about a week after Sir Bridgnorth's visit, Mrs. Calverley and Mildred set out in the pony phaeton with the intention of calling on Lady Barfleur and her daughter, at Brackley Hall, which was about six or seven miles from Ouselcroft.

Usually, they were attended by a groom, but on this particular occasion he was left at home.

The ponies were full of spirit, and eager to get on, but the ladies would not indulge them, and proceeded quietly along the pleasant lanes, through a rich and fertile district, abounding in farms, where some of the best cheeses in the county are made.

To reach Brackley Hall, however, they had to cross an extensive heath, a great part of which was very wild and marshy.

But this brown and uncultivated tract, where turf alone was cut, and where there were two or three dangerous swamps, offered the charm of contrast to the rich meadows they had just quitted. Here there were no farm-houses, no cow-sheds, no large bams, no orchards; but the air was fresh and pleasant, and lighted up by the brilliant sunshine, even Brackley Heath looked well. At least, our fair friends thought so, and the ponies were compelled to walk in consequence. Yet there was nothing remarkable in the prospect, as the reader shall judge. The whole scene owed its charm to the fine weather.

On the left the heath was bordered by the woods belonging to Brackley Hall, and, through a break in them, the upper part of the fine old timber and plaster mansion could be descried.

On the right the country was flat and uninteresting, planted in places by rows of tall poplars, and a canal ran through it, communicating with the River Mersey.

In front, but at some distance, rose a hill crowned by the ruins of an old castle, and having a small village and grey old church in the immediate neighbourhood.

In bad weather the heath had a dreary and desolate aspect. Here and there a hut could be perceived, but these miserable habitations were far removed from the road, and might have been deserted, since no smoke issued from them, and nothing could be seen of their occupants. A few sheep were scattered about in spots where the turf was covered with herbage; but they seemed wholly untended. Rooks there were in flocks from Brackley Park, plovers, and starlings. Even seagulls found their way to the morass.

While the ladies were contemplating this scene, which they thought highly picturesque, and commenting upon its beauties, they were startled, and indeed terrified, by the sudden appearance of two formidable-looking fellows, who had been watching their approach from behind an aged and almost branchless oak that grew near the road.

Evidently, from their peculiar garb, tawny skin, black eyes, and raven locks, these individuals were gipsies. They did not leave their purpose in doubt for a moment, but rushing towards the ladies with threatening gestures, shouted to them to stop.

Mrs. Calverley tried to whip on the ponies, but before they could start off they were checked by one of the gipsies, who seized the reins, while his comrade, addressing Mrs. Calverley, demanded her whip, and, as she hesitated to give it up, he snatched it from her, and threw it on the ground.

“Excuse my freedom, my lady,” he said, in accents meant to be polite, but that sounded gruff and menacing. “We can't allow you to go till we've had some talk with you; but we won't detain you longer nor we can help. We wants any money you may have about you, together with ornaments, rings, watches, ear-rings, and sich like. Deliver 'em up quietly, and you won't be molested—will they, Ekiel?”

“No,” replied the other ruffian, who stood at the heads of the ponies. “It would hurt our feelin's to use wiolence to two sich lovely creaters.”

Meanwhile, Mildred, who wished to preserve her watch, which had been given her by her father, was trying to detach it from the guard, but could not accomplish her object without attracting the attention of the gipsy near Mrs. Calverley.

Dashing round to the other side of the carriage, he caught hold of the chain, and broke it, but failed to secure the watch.

Mildred screamed loudly, though she had little expectation of help.

“Look quick, Clynch!” shouted Ekiel, in a warning voice.

“Give me the watch without more ado!” cried the gipsy to Mildred.

But she spread her hands over it, and redoubled her outcries.

“Here, take my purse and begone!” said Mrs. Calverley.

“Thank ye, my lady,” rejoined Clynch, quickly appropriating the purse. “But that's not enough. We must have everything you've got about you!”

“You shall have nothing more, fellow!” cried Mrs. Calverley, with great spirit. “And see! assistance is at hand! If you stay a minute longer you will be caught!”

And, as she spoke, a gentleman was seen galloping towards them, followed by a groom.

Baulked of their prey, the gipsies ran off, and made for the morass, with the intricacies of which they seemed well acquainted.

A minute or so afterwards their deliverer came up. A fine-looking young man, between twenty and thirty, and having decidedly a military air, but a stranger to them both.