“Faith,” Charles replied, laughing, “I have been like a rat with the dogs after him.  The next night after leaving you I was in danger from a rascally miller, who raised an alarm because we refused to stay at his bidding.  Then we made for Moseley, where I hoped to cross the Severn.  The Roundheads had set a guard there, and Richard Penderell went to the house of Mr. Woolfe, a loyal gentleman, and asked him for shelter for an officer from Worcester.  Mr. Woolfe said he would risk his neck for none save the king himself.  Then Richard told him who I was, and brought me in.  Mr. Woolfe hid me in the barn and gave me provisions.  The neighborhood was dangerous, for the search was hot thereabout, and I determined to double back again to White Ladies, that I might hear what had become of Wilmot.  Richard Penderell guided me to Boscabell, a farmhouse kept by his brother William.  Here I found Major Careless in hiding.  The search was hot, and we thought of hiding in a wood near, but William advised that as this might be searched we should take refuge in an oak lying apart in the middle of the plain.”

“This had been lopped three or four years before and had grown again very thick and bushy, so that it could not be seen through.  So, early in the morning, Careless and I, taking provisions for the day, climbed up it and hid there, and it was well we did so, for in the day the Roundheads came and searched the wood from end to end, as also the house.  But they did not think of the tree.  The next two days I lay at Boscabell, and learned on the second day that Wilmot was hiding at the house of Mr. Whitgrave, a Catholic gentleman at Moseley, where he begged me to join him.  That night I rode thither.  The six Penderells, for there were that number of brothers, rode with me as a bodyguard.  I was well received by Mr. Whitgrave, who furnished me with fresh linen, to my great comfort, for that which I had on was coarse, and galled my flesh grievously, and my feet were so sore I could scarce walk.  But the Roundheads were all about, and the search hot, and it was determined that I should leave.  This time I was dressed as a decent serving man, and Colonel Lane’s daughter agreed to go with me.  I was to pass as her serving man, taking her to Bristol.  A cousin rode with us in company.  Colonel Lane procured us a pass, and we met with no adventure for three days.  A smith who shod my horse, which had cast a shoe, did say that that rogue Charles Stuart had not been taken yet, and that he thought he ought to be hanged.  I thought so too, so we had no argument.  At Bristol we could find no ship in which I could embark, and after some time I went with Miss Lane and her cousin to my good friend Colonel Wyndham, at Trent House.  After much trouble he had engaged a ship to take me hence, and now this rascal refuses to go, or rather his wife refuses for him.  And now, my friend, we will at once make for Bridport, since Colonel Wyndham hopes to find a ship there.  I trust we may meet ere long in France.  None of my friends have served me and my father more faithfully than you.  It would seem but a mockery now to take knighthood at the hands of Charles Stuart, but it will not harm thee.”