Sir Rowland received the news with satisfaction, and sighed to think that Mr.Wilding--still absent, Heaven knew where--would not be of the party.

It was reported that on the Monday Monmouth was to march to Gloucester, hoping there to be joined by his Cheshire friends, so that it seemed Sir Rowland had not matured his plan a day too soon.
He got to horse, and contriving to win out of Bridgwater, rode off to Somerton to concert with Lord Feversham concerning the men he would need for his undertaking.
That night Richard made free talk of the undertaking to Diana and to Ruth, loving, as does the pusillanimous, to show himself engaged in daring enterprises.

Emulating his friend Sir Rowland, he held forth with prolixity upon the great service he was to do the State, and Ruth, listening to him, was proud of his zeal, the sincerity of which it never entered her mind to doubt.
Diana listened, too, but without illusions concerning Master Richard, and she kept her conclusions to herself.
During the afternoon of the morrow, which was Sunday, Sir Rowland returned to Bridgwater, his mission to Feversham entirely successful, and all preparations made.

He completed his arrangements, and towards eight o'clock that night the twenty men sent by Feversham--they had slipped singly into the town--began to muster in the orchard at the back of Mr.Newlington's house.
It was just about that same hour that Mr.Wilding, saddle-worn and dust-clogged in every pore, rode into Bridgwater, and made his way to the sign of The Ship in the High Street, overlooking the Cross where Trenchard was lodged.

His friend was absent--possibly gone with his men to the sermon Ferguson was preaching to the army in the Castle Fields.
Having put up his horse, Mr.Wilding, all dusty as he was, repaired straight to the Castle to report himself to Monmouth.
He was informed that His Majesty was in council.