to suffer such injury—execrated the Dagworths as the cause of it—and scolded his servants for their awkward attempts at repairing the mischief. As for Helen, she was patient and resigned; for she could see the grey towers of Dagworth Castle from the broken casements of her bedchamber, and she anticipated the possibility of beholding their future lord at some moment which she trusted was not remote.

After a week of angry excitement on the part of Mr. Commissioner Milbourne, of outward submission but inward resentment secretly treasured up against a day of retribution, on that of his dependents, and of quiescent endurance on that of his daughter, Ingworth New Hall, as his residence was called, was put into a habitable state; and effectual measures taken for repairing the gratuitous injuries that had been perpetrated in the grounds, gardens, and enclosures. Helen was not long in ascertaining that Sir Reginald Dagworth and his son were both absent from the neighbourhood, and Lady Alice and her servants were the only residents at the Castle—intelligence as satisfactory to her father as it was the reverse to her; for persisting in attributing all the damage his property had sustained to the enmity of the old cavalier and his son, he said, “He could now safely return to London, since the Dagworths were absent, who were the only persons likely to molest his daughter in his absence.”

The country appeared tolerably quiet; proper precautions had been taken to increase the securities of the house, and four resolute, well-armed male servants were deemed by Ralph Milbourne sufficient guard for his daughter during his temporary absence from her.

For two days after his departure everything remained in a state of tranquillity; but on the third night Helen was roused from feverish slumbers by the savage yells of the clubmen, a rustic but fierce banditti, composed for the most part of the unemployed population of the agricultural counties throughout England, who, deprived of regular work and wages by the ruin of many of their former masters, and the distracted state of the times, had been at length driven to the desperate expedient of obtaining a predatory livelihood by collecting in formidable bands for the purpose of levying contributions on passengers, plundering the unguarded villages or solitary mansions, and, in short, of committing every sort of outrage which opportunity might offer. To these were joined men who were inimical to both the great contending parties; reckless profligates, whose crimes had rendered them the outcasts of society; and ruined spend-thrifts and unprincipled ruffians, whose tempers would not brook the restraints of anything in the shape of law or discipline.

The clubmen of that district, amounting to several hundred men, were headed by one of the latter class, who had conceived the daring project of besetting the house, and of carrying off the only daughter of the rich Parliamentary Commissioner Milbourne, for the sake of extorting a large sum of money for her ransom.

The plan was successful: the mansion was surprised and entered by the rude outlaws; and scarcely had the terrified Helen time to rise and wrap herself in a large cloak, which she hastily threw over her night- dress, when the sanctuary of her chamber was invaded by a heterogeneous band of desperadoes; the foremost of whom, with a coarse expression of admiration, seized her in his profane arms, and forcibly hurried her, in spite of her shrieks, entreaties, and resistance, into a covered carriage, which they had provided for the purpose of the abduction.

A single glance, even in the terror and confusion of that fearful moment, had been sufficient to convince Helen that they were not cavaliers into whose power she had fallen; and the Round-heads would not, of course, have attacked the house of one of their own party. She then recalled to her remembrance many passages in the diurnals, where mention had been made of the clubmen, and of the outrages perpetrated by them. With an impulse of horror which no language can describe, at the idea of the probable fate that awaited her, she called on Edward Dagworth to save her, forgetting how many miles in all probability divided them; yet, strange to say, her cry was heard and answered by him whose name she had almost deliriously invoked.

He had been ordered by his commander on a secret service in that very neighbourhood, which, having successfully performed, he was on his way to join the army again, when he received intelligence of the