Sir John Constantine | Page 8

the way down to
Guildford.
THE STORY OF OUR LADY OF THE ROSARY.
"It is told," began my father, "in a sermon of the famous Vieyras--"
"For what was he famous?" asked my uncle.
"For being a priest, and yet preaching so good a sermon on love. It is
told in it that in the kingdom of Valencia there lived an hidalgo, young
and rich, who fell in love with a virtuous lady, ill treated by her
husband: and she with him, howbeit without the least thought of evil.
But, as evil suspects its like, so this husband doubted the fidelity which
was his without his deserving, and laid a plot to be revenged. On the
pretext of the summer heats he removed with his household to a
country house; and there one day he entered a room where his wife sat
alone, turned the key, and, drawing out a dagger, ordered her to write
what he should dictate. She, being innocent, answered him that there
was no need of daggers, but she would write, as her duty was, what he
commanded: which was, a letter to the young hidalgo telling him that
her husband had left home on business; that if her lover would come,
she was ready to welcome him; and that, if he came secretly the next
night, he would find the garden gate open, and a ladder placed against
the window. This she wrote and signed, seeing no escape; and, going to
her own room, commended her fears and her weakness to the Virgin.
"The young hidalgo, on receiving the letter (very cautiously delivered),
could scarcely believe his bliss, but prepared, as you will guess, to
embrace it. Having dressed himself with care, at the right hour he

mounted his horse and rode out towards his lady's house. Now, he was
a devout youth, as youths go, and on his way he remembered--which
was no little thing on such an occasion--that since morning he had not
said over his rosary as his custom was. So he began to tell it bead by
bead, when a voice near at hand said 'Halt, Cavalier!' He drew his
sword and peered around him in the darkness, but could see no one, and
was fumbling his rosary again when again the voice spoke, saying,
'Look up, Cavalier!' and looking up, he beheld against the night a row
of wayside gibbets, and rode in among them to discover who had called
him. To his horror one of the malefactors hanging there spoke down to
him, begging to be cut loose; 'and,' said the poor wretch, 'if you will
light the heap of twigs at your feet and warm me by it, your charity
shall not be wasted.' For Christian charity then the youth, having his
sword ready, cut him down, and the gallows knave fell on his feet and
warmed himself at the lit fire. 'And now,' said he, being warmed, 'you
must take me up behind your saddle; for there is a plot laid to-night
from which I only can deliver you.' So they mounted and rode together
to the house, where, having entered the garden by stealth, they found
the ladder ready set. 'You must let me climb first,' said the knave; and
had no sooner reached the ladder's top than two or three pistol shots
were fired upon him from the window and as many hands reached out
and stabbed him through and through until he dropped into the ditch;
whence, however, he sprang on his feet, and catching our hidalgo by
the arm hurried him back through the garden to the gate where his
horse stood tethered. There they mounted and rode away into safety,
the dead behind the living. 'All this is enchantment to me,' said the
youth as they went. 'But I must thank you, my friend; for whether dead
or alive--and to my thinking you must be doubly dead-- you have
rendered me a great service.' 'You may say a mass for me, and thank
you,' the dead man answered; 'but for the service you must thank the
Mother of God, who commanded me and gave me power to deliver you,
and has charged me to tell you the reason of her kindness: which is,
that every day you say her rosary.' 'I do thank her and bless her then,'
replied the youth, 'and henceforth will I say her rosary not once daily
but thrice, for that she hath preserved my life to-night.'"
"A very proper resolution," said my uncle.

"And I hope, sir, he kept it," chimed in Billy Priske; "good Protestant
though I be."
"The story is not ended," said my father. "The dead man--they were
dismounted now and close under the gallows--looked at the young man
angrily, and said he, 'I doubt Our