The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

(Ge OO o” em, em 4H ws 100 THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, the hand of his worst foe, and seeing with his closing eyes his mistress carried off triumphantly by his rival. His agony of mind, however, was of short duration. The voices of those who came rushing up the staircase were familiar ones, and not the least familar one among them was that of the despe- rado, Captain Lackland, whose voice came as usual from the rear of hia men. In an instant the tables were turned. The troopers were no match, either in deter- mination or in courage, for the rough outcasts of Alsatia, who showed no mercy, and pitched their enemies hither and thither—down the broad staircase and over the bannisters, and drove them from their posts with apparently no difficulty whatever. | As soon as Ben Firebrace had driven Henry Martin down the staircase, he caught up the faintiog form of his mistress, and carrying her into the adjoining room, laid her on the bed, and left her in charge of Mrs, Gobbler. When he returned to the scene of action, he found Harold in earnest conversation with one he well knew, but whom he had not seen for many months. This was Simon Lawless. The grim soldier was little changed, except that, perhaps, he was a trifling degree sterner and paler than ot old. He had still the same dark, flashing oes, still the same curl of disdain upon his lips, al- though now while he talked to Harold Fordyce, there was an expression almost of geniality straggling with the usual gloom of his features, " It was a mysterious thing, and a thing not easily explained, that whenever the stern Puritan met the Young Apprentice, he cast off at once the reserve and solemnicy of his disposition, and became more like his fellow men. “Ah! my brave captain,” he cried. ‘So we meet again in the hour of victory.” “Yes,” exclaimed Ben Firebrace. “We are again victorious.” ‘Thanks to me and to Armida,” interrupted a voice. It was that of the desperado. There was a burst of laughter when they turned round and glanced at him. The figure he cut was truly comical. In his scramblings to get out of the way of the combatants, or in his plundering expedition to the burning tavern, he had torn his clothes in such a manner that it seemed as though he had received the moat desperate sword thrusts. His face was besmeared with blood, as if he had been the victim of a terrible onslaught, The truth was that he had rolled down the and fallen with his face in a pool of oan which had flowed from braver hearts than is, As may readily be imagined, he took advan- of this circumstance to assume the cha- racter of a valorous hero. ‘So you and Armida have been in the wars again ?”’ said Ben Firebrace, laughing. ‘Ah, by my faith, and a hard scramble for life it was, too. I had eight of them on me at once, and had it not been that my right arm was like a piece of steel, and my courage like that of ten men, I should never have been here to tell the tale.”’ ‘‘ Bless me, all that danger while you were hiding bebind the door,” cried a voice, and one of the Alsatians clapped him heavily on the shoulder. The captain started round. ‘ What, you here, Tom Good-for-Nothing ?” he suid. “Why, I have not seen you in this day’s fray before this,”’ “T have seen you, though,” returned the other, ‘and you nearly were the death of me by throwing me almost on the point of a sword when you were running away from that youth with the dagger in his hand.” The shout of merriment which followed this announcement did not succeed in disconcerting the braggart captain. “Ah, you were always a base carrier of false tales, Tom,” he cried, ‘“ But, come, Gobbler, since we have saved your wine-cellar for you, let us have some of your best without pay or other hindrance. You should have seen how I defended your property.” “Yes,” cried Tom, with a hoarse laugh, “ you sat upon a barrel drinking the strong ale, and handing it round to all, while some of your friends carried off the money and the plate.” “Well, well,” said Firebrace, ‘let us leave them to settle their disputes in their own way. Let us be going; it is evident to me that Lizzie is not safe in Alsatia, I hear that Oliver Crom- well is on his march to London. No doubt, after the services I have rendered to the cause of the Parliament, he will forgive me for the haste which led me into error.”’ Leaving Gobbler to settle matters as best he could with the desperado and his companion, Ben Firebrace proceeded into the room where he had left Lizzie. She had now recovered entirely from her fainting fit, and was dressed in some clothes which the landlady had kindly procured for her. It was not long before Simon Lawless, with Ben, Harold, and Lizzie, had left the inn, and were making their way towards the Strand. On arriving at the house of the armourer, who had been greatly alarmed by the continued absence of Harold, Simon introduced Lizzie Woodhead to the giant, and begged him for his sake to screen her for the time. It is needless to say that the request was immediately granted, and that Lizzie that night slept happily and soundly in the arms of Ettie Leslie, CHAPTER IV. THE VISION. HAPPILY and soundly might Lizzie sleep, but not so Harold. Agitated as his life had been of late, his dreams were full of warlike sayings and doings. Scenes of bloodshed—struggles on the battle- field and in the streets of London—the loud shouts of violent troopera—the shrieks and agonised looks of the dying—the wailing of women and children, these were the sights and sounds which assailed him in his slumber, Presently there came a more distinct vision. 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