"In the name of the Lord, who cast down the golden idol made by Aaron
and the Israelites, I launch this bolt," he cried, as he took aim, and
liberated the cord.
The short, iron-headed, square-pointed arrow whizzed through the air,
and, by the mischief it did as it hit its mark, seemed to confirm the
Puritan's denunciation. Striking the May-pole precisely at the summit,
it shattered the wood, and brought down the floral crown surmounting it,
as well as the topmost streamers.
The spectators stared aghast.
"Be warned by this," thundered Hugh Calveley, with gloomy triumph. "Your
idol is smitten--not by my hand, but by His who will chastise your
wickedness."
Whereupon he closed the window, and departed. Presently afterwards, the
door was opened by an old, grave-looking, decently-clad serving-man.
Addressing Jocelyn, who had already dismounted and given his horse in
charge to the youth engaged for a similar purpose by Dick Taverner, this
personage invited him, in his master's name, to enter; and, with a heart
throbbing with emotion, the young man complied. Chance seemed to
befriend him in a way he could never have anticipated; and he now hoped
to obtain an interview with Aveline.
His conductor led him through a passage to a large chamber at the back
of the house, with windows looking upon a garden. The room was panelled
with dark shining oak, had a polished floor, an immense chimney-piece,
and a moulded ceiling. Within it were a few high-backed chairs, and
some other cumbrous furniture, while on an oak table at the side, was
spread the simple morning repast of the Puritan and his daughter.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146