When the first rumour of the plan came to Axholme, it was theme for laughter. What man in his senses could believe that his Majesty would empower a foreigner to lord it over two hundred and fifty square miles of English soil, diverting rivers, cutting canals, turning pools and lakes into boggy ground, and of necessity (so said shrewd men, who had knowledge of such matters, and as indeed proved to be the case), turning fruitful fields into marsh and swamp? But consternation quickly followed jesting, for the incredible thing was true. His Majesty had great need of money, and the Dutchman held command of inexhaustible treasure, so the Isle was to be given over to his will. Then gentle and simple alike turned to my father, Thomas Vavasour. They knew his courage and capacity and his public mind. Into his hands they committed their cause, and he became "their Solicitor," as they loved to call him, though he was no lawyer by profession, nor ever received aught for his services. He had been in London on this business for some weeks, and now wrote to me that he had obtained a judgment of the Court of Exchequer, confirming the rights of the Isle Commoners, and finally quashing the scheme of invasion. My father had worsted the Dutchman--and his Majesty himself--and saved the Isle! The news would set the bells ringing in every steeple in Axholme; there would be bonfires on every hill and mound, and feasting and merrymaking in every manor house and farm and cottage. I had been ready to caper and shout when I read the letter, but I suddenly bethought me that the announcement should be made by "the Solicitor" himself, and that if it so pleased him, my coming of age that day week would be a fitting occasion. It was hard to keep the tidings to myself, but it appeared right to me that my father, who had gained it, should publish his victory. In his letter he said nothing to guide me. I determined to take counsel of the Vicar of Crowle, my uncle by marriage with my mother's sister. But when I reached Crowle, it became doubtful whether I should impart the great news even to Mr. Graves, who had a high sense of his importance as the parson of a parish, and might be unable to resist the temptation to be the first to announce the good news. The next day would be Sunday, I remembered. To think of this awhile longer, I turned my horse into a track, which wound up a little hill that over-topped the town. As soon as I gained the crown of the hill, a tumult of angry shouts and the noise of barking dogs came to my ears, and I rode down the track toward the spot from which the sounds arose. A thick growth of trees hindered my view until I came to an open glade, where a number of men and lads, perhaps two score, were gathered round an old oak. They seemed to be threatening some one. As I drew nearer, I saw a young and beautiful woman, seated on a root of the old tree, her back against the trunk, and one arm partly folded in her cloak, round the neck of a fawn, huddled closely to her. The cloak had been torn in two or three places, and through the rents showed the whiteness of her arm stained with blood. Her face was deathly pale, but her eyes were bright and dauntless.