Richard rushed hither and thither, storming.

Not a man about the place could give him a word of enlightenment.

All knew she was in that box the night before; none knew when she left it or where she was now.
He ran to his father, but all his father could see or say was no more than was plain to every one: the mare had been carried off in the night, and that with a skill worthy of a professional horse-thief.
What now was the poor fellow to do?
If I were to tell the truth--namely, that he wept--so courageous are the very cowards of this century that they would sneer at him; but I do tell it notwithstanding, for I have little regard to the opinion of any man who sneers.

Whatever he may or may not have been as a man, Richard felt but half a soldier without his mare, and, his country calling him, oppressed humanity crying aloud for his sword and arm, his men waiting for him, and Lady gone, what was he to do?
'Never heed, Dick, my boy,' said his father .-- It was the first time since he had put on man's attire that he had called him Dick,--'Thou shalt have my Oliver.

He is a horse of good courage, as thou knowest, and twice the weight of thy little mare.' 'Ah, father! you do not know Lady so well as I.Not Cromwell's best horse could comfort me for her.