When we left the castle, Mary wore under her riding habit a suit of man’s attire, and, as we rode along, she would shrug her shoulders and laugh as if it were a huge joke; and by the most comical little pantomime, call my attention to her unusual bulk.  So when she found Brandon, the only change necessary to make a man of her was to throw off the riding habit and pull on the jack-boots and slouch hat, both of which Brandon had with him.

They wasted no time you may be sure, and were soon under way.  In a few minutes they picked up the two Bristol men who were to accompany them, and, when night had fairly fallen, left the by-paths and took to the main road leading from London to Bath and Bristol.  The road was a fair one; that is, it was well defined and there was no danger of losing it; in fact, there was more danger of losing one’s self in its fathomless mud-holes and quagmires.  Brandon had recently passed over it twice, and had made mental note of the worst places, so he hoped to avoid them.

Soon the rain began to fall in a soaking drizzle; then the lamps of twilight went out, and even the shadows of the night were lost among themselves in blinding darkness.  It was one of those black nights fit for witch traveling; and, no doubt, every witch in England was out brewing mischief.  The horses’ hoofs sucked and splashed in the mud with a sound that Mary thought might be heard at Land’s End; and the hoot of an owl, now and then disturbed by a witch, would strike upon her ear with a volume of sound infinitely disproportionate to the size of any owl she had ever seen or dreamed of before.

Brandon wore our cushion, the great cloak, and had provided a like one of suitable proportions for the princess.  This came in good play, as her fine gentleman’s attire would be but poor stuff to turn the water.  The wind, which had arisen with just enough force to set up a dismal wail, gave the rain a horizontal slant and drove it in at every opening.  The flaps of the comfortable great cloak blew back from Mary’s knees, and she felt many a chilling drop through her fine new silk trunks that made her wish for buckram in their place.  Soon the water began to trickle down her legs and find lodgment in the jack-boots, and as the rain and wind came in tremulous little whirs, she felt wretched enough—­she who had always been so well sheltered from every blast.  Now and then mud and water would fly up into her face—­striking usually in the eyes or mouth—­and then again her horse would stumble and almost throw her over his head, as he sank, knee deep, into some unexpected hole.  All of this, with the thousand and one noises that broke the still worse silence of the inky night soon began to work upon her nerves and make her fearful.  The road was full of dangers aside from stumbling horses and broken necks, for many were the stories of murder and robbery committed along the route they were traveling.  It is true they had two stout men, and all were armed, yet they might