The Brown Mask | Page 6

year, and steeps
the hearts of men and women with stronger hope and wider ambition;
such a morning as draws a veil over past failures and disappointments,
and floods the future with success and achievement. It seemed a pity to
have to die on such a morning, and for one moment there was regret in

the highwayman's soul as he took his place in the cart. The next he
braced himself to play his part, for there were great crowds in the
streets, waiting and making holiday. All eyes were turned, watching for
the procession, for was it not Galloping Hermit who came, the
notorious wearer of the brown mask, the hero of wealth and squalor
alike, the man whose deeds had already passed into legend? No one
thought of him as Gentleman Jack, not even his companions of the
"Punch-Bowl" who were in the crowd to see him pass; not the landlady,
who had come to see the last of him, and stood at the end of the journey,
waiting and watching.
By the steps of St. Sepulchre's Church there was a pause. A woman,
one of a frail sisterhood, yet strangely pretty and innocent to look upon,
held up a great nosegay to the hero of the hour, and as he took it he
bent down and kissed her.
"Don't let another's kiss make you forget this one too soon," he said
gaily, and her lips smiled while there was a sob in her throat.
The cart jogged on again, and at intervals the man buried his face in the
flowers. This was his hour, and if he had any fear or regret, there were
no eyes keen enough to note the fact.
Tyburn and its fatal tree were in sight across a surging crowd. Even at
the last moment the King might intervene, it was whispered, and there
were some who looked for signs of a swift-coming messenger. But the
cart came nearer, slowly and surely; the space round the gallows was
kept clear with difficulty, and there was no sign of hurrying reprieve.
This was the end of the game. Now was the great test of courage. He
was too great a man to indulge in small things to prove it.
"I've been used to riding in the night; a morning ride tires one," he said
carelessly. "Let's get it over, or I shall be getting hungry, as all these
folks must be. There's a good pair of boots for anyone who has the
courage to wear them. I'm ready. Make an end of it."
And the landlady at the "Punch-Bowl" that night drank to his memory,

declaring that he had died game, as was fitting for a gentleman of the
road.
CHAPTER II
BARBARA LANISON
As the coach rolled heavily homewards towards St. James's Square,
Lady Bolsover speedily recovered from her anxiety concerning her
niece; she did not even reprimand her for getting lost in the crowd, and
seemed to take no interest whatever in the gentleman who had come to
the rescue and had not waited to be thanked. He could have been no
person of consequence, or he would not have neglected the opportunity
of bowing over her hand. She talked of nothing but the trial and the
excellent manner in which her friend Judge Marriott had conducted it.
Some of his witticisms she remembered and repeated with such
excellent point that her niece shuddered again as she had done when
they fell from the judge's lips.
"It was altogether horrible," said the girl. "I wonder why you made me
go."
"Judge Marriott's wit horrible!" exclaimed Lady Bolsover. "Pray do not
say so in company, or you will be taken for a fool."
"I meant the trial--the whole thing. Why did we go?"
"Would you be altogether out of the fashion, Barbara?"
"Such fashion, yes, I think so."
"Ah, that's the drawback of living in the country," was the answer. "All
one's morals and manners smell of the soil, and a woman's attainments
are limited to the making of gooseberry wine and piecrusts. I was of
that pattern myself once, but, thank heaven! I married wisely and
escaped from it. You must do the same, Barbara."
"Indeed, I am not sure that I want to, and yet--"

"I am grateful for the reservation," said Lady Bolsover, "or I should be
compelled to think that all my care of you during these last few months
had been wasted."
"Oh, no; I have learnt many things--many things that it is good for me
to know. I have seen men and women who seem to live in another
world to the one I have knowledge of, a large and most interesting
world, truly, yet not altogether to my taste. Is it not a strange world that
can enjoy what