'My mind misgives me,' said the horseman, 'or I know from what far
building those flames come. Don't stand aghast, my good fellow. Open the
gate!'
'Sir,' cried the man, laying his hand upon his horse's bridle as he let
him through: 'I know you now, sir; be advised by me; do not go on. I saw
them pass, and know what kind of men they are. You will be murdered.'
'So be it!' said the horseman, looking intently towards the fire, and
not at him who spoke.
'But sir--sir,' cried the man, grasping at his rein more tightly yet,
'if you do go on, wear the blue riband. Here, sir,' he added, taking one
from his own hat, 'it's necessity, not choice, that makes me wear it;
it's love of life and home, sir. Wear it for this one night, sir; only
for this one night.'
'Do!' cried the three friends, pressing round his horse. 'Mr
Haredale--worthy sir--good gentleman--pray be persuaded.'
'Who's that?' cried Mr Haredale, stooping down to look. 'Did I hear
Daisy's voice?'
'You did, sir,' cried the little man. 'Do be persuaded, sir. This
gentleman says very true. Your life may hang upon it.'
'Are you,' said Mr Haredale abruptly, 'afraid to come with me?'
'I, sir?--N-n-no.
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