CHAPTER II.

A gentle knight was pricking on the plaine.

SPENCER.


On the morning of a fine day, a fortnight after the occurrences above
narrated, a horseman was riding over the neck, or narrow strip of
marshy ground, which connects the peninsula on which Boston is
situated with the main land. The rider was a tall, handsome man, of
apparently some thirty-five years of age, who sat on his steed and
handled the reins with a practiced grace, as if the saddle and himself
were familiar acquaintances. Under a broad-brimmed, slouched hat, fell
curls of dark hair, down the sides of an oval though rather thin face,
embrowned by exposure to the weather. The nose was curved like the
beak of an eagle, the eyes bright and wild as those of the royal bird,
and a close beard curled over the face, including the upper lip, the
bold yet sweet expression of which it did not conceal.

The dress of the cavalier was in the fashion of the times, though
sobered down, either for the purpose of attracting less attention, or
out of deference to the customs of the people he was among. A close
fitting doublet or jerkin, of black velvet, over which was thrown a
light cloak of the same color, but of different material, and a
falling collar, shaped somewhat like those in Vandyke's portraits,
edged with a narrow peccadillo or fringe of lace, ornamented the upper
part of his person; his hands and wrists were protected by long gloves
or gauntlets, reaching half way up to the elbow, and opening wide at