It was a gloomy scene and hour, and Sir Norman's heart turned sick

within him as he noticed the ruin and devastation the pestilence had

everywhere wrought. And he remembered, with a shudder, the prediction

of Lilly, the astrologer, that the paved streets of London would be like

green fields, and the living be no longer able to bury the dead. Long

before this, he had grown hardened and accustomed to death from its very

frequence; but now, as he looked round him, he almost resolved to ride

on and return no more to London till the plague should have left it.

But then came the thought of his unknown lady-love, and with it the

reflection that he was on his way to find her; and, rousing himself

from his melancholy reverie, he rode on at a brisker pace, heroically

resolved to brave the plague or any other emergency, for her sake. Full

of this laudable and lover-like resolution, he had got on about half

a mile further, when he was suddenly checked in his rapid career by an

exciting, but in no way surprising, little incident.

During the last few yards, Sir Norman had come within sight of another

horseman, riding on at rather a leisurely pace, considering the place

and the hour. Suddenly three other horsemen came galloping down upon

him, and the leader presenting a pistol at his head, requested him in

a stentorial voice for his money or his life. By way of reply, the

stranger instantly produced a pistol of his own, and before the

astonished highwayman could comprehend the possibility of such an act,

discharged it full in his face. With a loud yell the robber reeled and

fell from his saddle, and in a twinkling both his companions fired their

pistols at the traveler, and bore, with a simultaneous cry of rage, down

upon him. Neither of the shots had taken effect, but the two enraged

highwaymen would have made short work of their victim had not Sir

Norman, like a true knight, ridden to the rescue. Drawing his sword,

with one vigorous blow he placed another of the assassins hors de

combat; and, delighted with the idea of a fight to stir his stagnant

blood, was turning (like a second St. George at the Dragon), upon the

other, when that individual, thinking discretion the better part of

valor, instantaneously turned tail and fled. The whole brisk little

episode had not occupied five minutes, and Sir Norman was scarcely aware

the fight had began before it had triumphantly ended.

"Short, sharp, and decisive!" was the stranger's cool criticism, as he

deliberately wiped his blood=stained sword, and placed it in a velvet

scabbard. "Our friends, there, got more than they bargained for, I

fancy. Though, but for you, Sir," he said, politely raising him hat and

bowing, "I should probably have been ere this in heaven, or--the other

place."




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