We must now turn to the events which were taking place in the City of London on the same day, but a little before the hour at which the Lady Arabella made her escape from the house of Mr. Conyers.

Anxiously William Seymour had counted every moment during that morning, till he saw at length a large cart, loaded with billets of wood, enter the open space before the old palace, and slowly approach the door which led to the apartments he inhabited. He had nobody with him, and descending himself to speak with the carter, he paid him for the wood, showed him where to place it; and then saying, "I will send one of my people back with you," he retired quickly to his chamber, locked the door, and began hastily to change his dress. The entire suit of a common mechanic had been already prepared for him, and was soon put on, making a great change in his figure and appearance; but a quantity of jet black hair had been also provided, which, with a beard of the same colour, skilfully managed by the hands of a French artist for some of the mummings of the Court, completed his disguise.

By the time that all this was arranged, the wood was unloaded; and, going down, he addressed the carter, saying, "Now, my man, you had better move away, they will not let you stay here long."

"The gentleman told me he would send down one of his people," replied the man.

"Well, I am one of his people," answered Seymour. "What do you want? A draught of beer I suppose? but we have none here for you in the Tower. There's a groat for you, however, to buy some beer."

The man took the money, whipped his horses, and moved dully on at their head, while Seymour, leaning his hand on the back part of the cart, followed, as if he was one of those attached to it. Proceeding at a slow pace onward, they soon reached the great western gate of the Tower, where no question was asked, and the cart, with those who accompanied it, was suffered to go out, though two or three persons belonging to the fortress, and a guard, were under the archway at the time. The carter then turned along the Tower wharf, but perversely stopped for a minute to speak a word to one of the warders at the south gate as he passed.

Seymour, however, though we must not say he felt no alarm, continued carelessly to lean on the back of the vehicle, till the man had done, and then followed as before, saying a word to him from time to time, to keep up the appearance of companionship. The last point of danger was the iron gate at the other end of the wharf; but it was opened to let them out without inquiry, and in a moment after the prisoner felt himself a free man again.

He was scarcely in the open street, when a gay-looking gentleman touched him on the arm, saying aloud "Hollo, my man, are you not one of Mr. Seymour's people?"

"I am Lord Beauchamp's cooper, sir," answered Seymour, with a low bow. "Sir George Rodney, I think?"

"Yes," replied the Knight; "I want to speak with you, my good fellow; come hither with me."

"I must go," said Seymour, addressing the carter; "good afternoon, comrade;" and, following Rodney, he hurried on through a number of narrow streets to a good-sized house on the other side of Tower Hill. The door was instantly opened to receive him; and, a moment after, Sir Harry West embraced him joyfully, exclaiming, "Welcome, welcome, my dear William! your brother is within there. Take a hasty farewell, and let us go."

"The boat is not come up," said Rodney.

"Where is Lady Arabella?" asked Seymour; "where is my dear wife?"

"On her way to Leigh by this time," answered Sir Harry West; "at least so I hope and trust. Run down, and see for the boat, Sir George. For Heaven's sake, let us not lose time!"

"I will be back ere you can wink," replied Rodney; and while he was gone, Seymour proceeded to a small room, where several of his friends and relations were assembled.

While they were still in the midst of their congratulations, Sir George Rodney returned, saying the boat was ready, but that some of the yeomen of the guard were walking about suspiciously upon Tower Hill.

"Let me see, let me see!" exclaimed Sir Harry West; and he and Rodney went to the door, with one of the servants who was in their confidence.

In an instant he returned, however, saying that the men were merely lounging about; and, taking leave of his friends, Seymour issued forth with the servant we have mentioned, whose garb harmonized better with the disguise he wore, than the dress of Rodney and the old Knight.

The two gentlemen followed only a step behind; but, ere they had gone thirty yards upon Tower Hill, and just as they were passing a party comprising two men, one walking on either side of a young and lady-like woman, a quick cry burst from the girl's lips, and she darted towards Sir Harry West.

The two men caught her instantly by the arm; but at the same moment the old Knight threw himself directly in their way, exclaiming, "It is Ida Mara!"

"Quick, quick!" said Rodney, in a low voice, to the servant; "take him into the tobacconist's on the other side of the hill. We will be with you in a minute;" and while Seymour, after whispering, "See to her safety--see to her safety, for Heaven's sake," hurried on to a house which then stood a little beyond the spot where the Royal Mint now appears, Rodney returned to the old Knight, between whom and the men that were holding Ida Mara, high and angry words were now passing.

"I tell you we have the King's orders," said one of the two; "interrupt us if you dare!"

"I certainly shall dare," replied Sir Harry; "for I believe you to be uttering a gross falsehood, sir. You are not one of the King's servants, I know; and it is but a fortnight ago since I saw you drawing cold iron upon a servant who was accompanying this very young gentlewoman. Aid me, Rodney, to apprehend these men."

"Take care," whispered Rodney; "you will have the guard up."

"I fear there's no other course," answered Sir Harry, quickly; "we must act boldly."

"Have with you, then," cried Rodney; and turning to the men, who were whispering together, without losing their hold of Ida Mara, he exclaimed, "Will you set the lady free, curs; or must I make the sun shine through you?" and he laid his hand upon his sword.

At that moment, however, three of the stout yeomen of the guard were seen coming from the gate towards them; and, perceiving that there was no other resource, Sir Harry West called to them, and beckoned with his hand. The yeomen instantly began to run, and the old Knight, as they approached, exclaimed, "Here, guard! guard! These men are using the King's name on a false pretence."

"What is the matter--what is the matter?" cried a warder, who was at their head. "We will have no tumults on Tower Hill."

"The matter is," replied Sir Harry West, "that these two men are detaining this young gentlewoman against her will, pretending that they have the King's orders. Now, I am sure that is false. Look at that fellow's face, how white it turns at the very sight of the yeomen of the guard; and this other man I know for the servant of a quack impostor, here about town."

"If it be so," said the burly warder, in a rough tone, "we will souse them in the river; but we must carry them before the Lieutenant first. Lay hands on them, my men; and you, sir, come along with us too; for we must have proof against them."

"That man's face is proof enough," replied Sir Harry West, hesitating, "and I was going with this gentleman on business of importance."

"See, see!" cried one of the men, who had been holding Ida Mara; "he is afraid to make good his charge. He knows he cannot do it."

"Well, I will go," answered Sir Harry West. "Rodney, you must proceed and finish the business alone. You can speak my sentiments to the other gentlemen concerned, and explain to them the cause of my absence. I will go with you, Ida," he continued. "Do not fear. In the hands of the King's yeomen you are quite safe."

"I fear nothing when you are with me, kind Sir Harry," replied the girl.

"Come along, then," said the warder. "Sir Harry?--I wonder if you are Sir Harry West!" he continued, looking at the old Knight. "I am sure you are, too. Why, I served with you, sir, in Ireland, against Tyrone. Come along, sir--come along! We'll soon settle this matter. I would take your word against a thousand;" and the whole party walked on towards the gate of the Tower.

In the meanwhile Sir George Rodney hastened to rejoin Seymour, whom he found with the servant in the shop to which they had been directed. A few rapid questions were asked by Seymour in regard to the sudden appearance of Ida Mara; for, as may well be supposed, he felt some alarm respecting Arabella herself. Rodney, however, had been informed by Markham, that the fair Italian had been missed from Highgate on the day before; and, having satisfied his friend on this point, they proceeded to the water-side. But half an hour had already been lost; and when they reached the bank of the river, the boat, which had been prepared, was not to be found. After some inquiries, they entered a wherry, and rowed towards the stairs to which they were told it had been removed. But more time was thus lost, and, in all, nearly an hour and a half was consumed fruitlessly. It turned out, that the person appointed to steer the barge, a faithful but timid man, attached to the House of Hertford, had twice taken fright at some accidental events which he thought suspicious.

When, at length, he saw his young master in the boat, however, he regained confidence; and, steering boldly past a party of the Royal officers who were going from Greenwich to Whitehall by water, he guided the vessel skilfully through the shipping in the pool and down the river. The rowers plied their oars diligently; but the time which had been lost, deprived them of the tide; and by the time they came opposite to Erith, it was running strong against them. Thus day broke before they reached Tilbury, and the wind, freshening and considerably agitating the water, retarded them still more. About nine o'clock, the weary rowers came in sight of Leigh; but, to their disappointment, no ship was seen at anchor there, though two or three vessels under sail were apparent at some distance.

It was now evident, both to Seymour and Rodney, that the boatmen could go no farther; and, landing at Leigh, they hired a fishing-smack to convey them to a ship, which they had both fixed upon as the one that, according to the account of the people on the shore, had been lying there for two days, and had set sail about an hour before. The two gentlemen were soon embarked, and in the light boat which they had engaged, they overtook the larger and heavier vessel, still in the mouth of the river. But it proved to be merely a Dutch brig, the captain of which would alter his course for no man, and an eager consultation was held between Seymour and his friend as to what was next to be done.

"Here comes a large vessel, apparently light, and in full sail," said Rodney; "if you will take my advice, you will board her at once, and hire her, at any price, to carry you to France. The wind is fair, when once you are out of the river; and your friends here will let you know where to rejoin the Lady Arabella; for she has certainly escaped, otherwise the Frenchman would not have set sail."

"That is my comfort," replied Seymour; "that is my comfort! She sacrificed all for me; and, knowing that she is safe, I care little what fate befals myself."

The plan proposed by the Knight was accordingly adopted. The vessel towards which they now directed their course proved to be a collier returning to Newcastle; and, for the sum of forty pounds, the skipper consented to land Mr. Seymour on the French coast.

Taking leave of Rodney, then, with many expressions of gratitude, the fugitive bade adieu to the shores of England, not to return for years. The day was beautiful, the wind was fair and strong, and before evening the faint white cliffs of France were visible over the blue sea, spreading wider and wider as the ship sailed along. Shortly after, the distant sound of a cannon struck the ears of those on board; and Seymour asked, "What can that be? The day is fine, the wind not high,--it cannot be a signal of distress!"

"It may be, sir," answered the master; "at sea, there is no knowing when an accident may happen."

But another, and another gun was heard, and then came a short pause; after which three more were fired in rapid succession; and Seymour, gazing anxiously from the stern, perceived some vessels, at the distance of seven or eight miles, in the direction of Pegwell Bay, with a wreath of white smoke streaming from the farthest of them. The next instant a flash crossed the cloud, and then a second; and after the lapse of some short time, the report of cannon was again heard. The smoke now nearly concealed the ships, but, to the number of thirteen times, the same sounds reached the fugitive's ear; and then all was still again.

His heart was ill at ease. He would fain have persuaded himself that the event which gave him so much anxiety must be caused by some accidental circumstance, unconnected with the fate of her who had sacrificed so much for him; that Arabella must near that period have well nigh reached the French coast; but apprehension, more strong than argument, would not be stilled, and, sitting down by the helm, he buried his eyes in his hands.

He felt then,--whatever joy he might experience at his own escape--that the best right of man, the best gift of earth, was poor without her he loved,--that liberty itself was nothing without Arabella!