This semi-courteous tolerance, on the part of Captain Scarthe's followers towards their involuntary host--unlike the character of the former, as it was unexpected by the latter--requires some explanation; which the conversation between Scarthe himself and his cornet, occurring at that very moment, will supply.

The two officers were in a large sitting-room, that had been a.s.signed to them in the eastern wing of the dwelling. It is scarce necessary to say that the room was handsomely furnished: for the mansion of Sir Marmaduke Wade, besides being one of the oldest, was also one of the grandest of the time. The walls of the apartment specified were covered with Cordovan leather, stamped with heraldic devices; the huge bay window was hung with curtains of dark green velvet; while the pieces of ma.s.sive furniture exhibited sculptural carvings not only elaborate, but perhaps of higher art than can be produced at the present time.

A ma.s.sive round table in the middle of the floor was covered by a heavy cloth of rich Damascus pattern; while the floor itself, in lieu of Brussels or Turkey carpet, was hidden under a mattress of smooth shining rushes, neatly woven into a variety of patterns.

Scarthe was seated, or rather reclining on a _fauteuil_ covered with crimson velvet; while his cornet, who had just entered the room, stood in front of him--as if in the reception, or delivery, of a message.

Neither of the officers was in armour. The steel plates had been laid aside; or not fastened on for that day.

Scarthe himself was habited in all the fantastic frippery fashionable at the time. A doublet of yellow satin, with trunk hose of the same--the latter fringed at the bottoms with silk ribbons, tipped with tags of gold. A broad Vand.y.k.e collar of point lace; cuffs to correspond; and a scarlet sash--also weighted with golden tags--adorned the upper part of his body; while boots of yellow Cordovan leather--with snow-white lawn puffing out at the ample tops--completed the list of his habiliments.

Despite his pale face; despite a certain sinister cast of his countenance--not always to be observed--Richard Scarthe was a handsome man. The eyes of many a courtly dame had deemed him more than interesting; and as he reclined against the back of the _fauteuil_ in an att.i.tude of perfect ease, he looked not the less interesting, that the scarlet scarf pa.s.sed over his right shoulder was crossed by another of more sombre hue--acting as a _sling_, in which his right arm rested.

A wounded man--especially if the damage has been received in a duel--is a dangerous object for the eye of a sentimental young lady to rest upon.

It might be that Captain Scarthe was acquainted with this not very recondite truth. It might be, that some such thought had been in his mind that very morning, while making his toilette before the mirror.

The cornet was neither so handsome as his captain, nor so daintily dressed; and yet one, previously acquainted with Stubbs' rather slovenly habit, could not have failed to notice, on that particular morning, that more than ordinary pains had been taken with _his_ "make-up."

He was in a plain military suit of buff; but the collar and cuffs were clean; and so also his plump flesh-coloured face--a condition in which it was not always to be found.

His hay-coloured hair, too, exhibited something of a gloss--as though the brush had been recently and repeatedly pa.s.sed through it.

There was a flush on Stubbs' cheek, with a soft subdued light in his eye, that betokened some unusual emotion in his mind--some thought more refined than ordinarily held dominion there. In short, Stubbs had the look of a man who had been so unfortunate, as to fall in love!

As we have said, the cornet was standing. He was silent also; as if he had already delivered his report, and was awaiting the reply.

"I'm glad they're taking it so quietly," said the captain, in rejoinder to whatever communication his cornet had made. "Our fellows are not used to sleeping in stables--with a fine house standing close by. But we're in England now, Stubbs; and it won't do to keep up the fashions of Flanders. By so doing, we might get our good king into disgrace."

"We might, by Ged!" stiffly a.s.sented Stubbs.

"Besides," continued the captain, speaking rather to himself than to his subaltern, "I've another reason for not letting them forage too freely, just now. The time may come, when it will be more profitable to put the screw on. The cat plays with the mouse, before killing it. Did the vagabonds grumble at my order?"

"Not a bit. No, by Ged! They're too fond of you for that."

"Well, cornet; next time you go among them, you can promise them plenty of beef and beer. They shall have full rations of both, and double ones too. But no pickings and stealings. Tell them that the eighth commandment must be kept; and that nothing short of hanging will satisfy me if it be broken. They must be given to understand, that we're no longer engaged in a campaign; though the Lord knows how soon we may be.

From what I heard, and saw, yesterday among that rabble, I shouldn't wonder if the king sets us to cutting their throats before spring."

"Like enough," quietly a.s.sented Stubbs.

"I don't care how soon," continued the cuira.s.sier captain, musing as he spoke. "I shouldn't care how soon--but--that, if it come to blows, we'll be called away from here; and after the infernal marchings and countermarchings we've had for the last six months, I feel inclined for a little rest. I think I could enjoy the _dolce far niente_ devilish well down here--that is, for a month or so. Nice quarters, a'nt they?"

"Are, by Ged!"

"Nice girls too--you've seen them, haven't you?"

"Just a glimpse of them through the window, as I was dressing. There were two of them out on the terrace."

"There are only two--a daughter, and a niece. Come, cornet; declare yourself! Which?"

"Well, the little un's the one to my taste. _She's a beauty_, by Ged!"

"Ha! ha! ha! I might have known it?" cried the captain. "Well--well-- well!" he continued speaking to himself in a careless drawl. "I believe, as I always did, that Nature has formed some souls utterly incapable of appreciating her highest works. Now here is a man, who actually thinks that dapper little prude more beautiful than her queenlike cousin; a woman that to me--a man of true taste and experience--is known to possess qualities--ah! such qualities! Ha! ha!

ha! Stubbs sees but the bodice and skirt. I can perceive something more--never mind what--the soul that is concealed under them. He sees a pretty lip--a sparkling eye--a neat nose--a shining tress; and he falls over head and ears in love with one or other of these objects. To me 'tis neither lip, glance, nor tress: 'tis the _tout ensemble_--lips, nose, eyes, cheeks, and _chevelure_--soul and body all combined!"

"By Ged! that would be perfection," cried Stubbs, who stood listening to the enraptured soliloquy.

"So it would, cornet."

"But where will you find such? Nowhere, I should say?"

"You are blind, cornet--stone-blind, or you might have seen it this morning."

"I admit," said the cornet, "I've seen something very near it--the nearest it I ever saw in my life. I didn't think there was a girl in all England as pretty as that creature. I didn't, by Ged."

"What creature?"

"The one we've been speaking of, the little one--Mistress Lora Lovelace is her name. I had it from her maid."

"Ha! ha! ha! You're a fool, Stubbs; and it's fortunate you are so.

Fortunate for me, I mean. If you'd been gifted with either taste or sense, we might have been rivals; and that, my killing cornet, would have been a great misfortune for me. As it is, our roads lie in different directions. You see something--I can't, nor can you tell what--in Mistress Lora Lovelace. I see that in her cousin which I can, and _do_, comprehend. I see perfection. Yes, Stubbs, this morning you have had before your eyes not only the most beautiful woman in the shire of Bucks, but, perhaps, the loveliest in all England. And yet you did not know it! Never mind, worthy cornet. _Chacun a son gout_. How lucky we don't all think alike!"

"Is, by Ged!" a.s.sented the cornet, in his characteristic fashion. "I like the little 'un best."

"You shall have her all to yourself. And now, Stubbs, as I can't leave my room with this wounded wing of mine, go and seek an interview with Sir Marmaduke. Smooth over the little rudenesses of yesterday; and make known to him, in a roundabout way--you understand--that we had a cup of sack too much at the inn. Say something of our late campaign in Flanders, and the free life we had been accustomed to lead while there.

Say what you like; but see that it be the thing to soften him down, and make him our friend. I don't think the worthy knight is so disloyal, after all. It's something about this young sprig's being recalled from Court, that has got him into trouble with the king. Do all you can to make him friendly to _us_. Remember! if you fail, we may get no nearer to that brace of beauties, than looking at them through a window, as you did this morning. It would be of no use forcing ourselves into their company. If we attempt that, Sir Marmaduke may remove his chicks into some other nest; and then, cornet, our quarters would be dull enough."

"I'll see Sir Marmaduke at once?" said the subaltern interrogatively.

"The sooner the better. I suppose they have breakfasted ere this.

These country people keep early hours. Try the library. No doubt you'll find him there: he's reported to be a man of books."

"I'll go there, by Ged!"

And with this characteristic speech, the cornet hastened out of the room.

"I must win this woman," said Scarthe, rising to his feet, and striding across the floor with an air of resolution: "'_I must win her, if I should lose my soul_!' Oh! beauty! beauty! the true and only enchanter on earth. Thou canst change the tiger into a tender lamb, or transform the lamb into a fierce tiger. What was I yesterday but a tiger? To-day subdued--tamed to the softness of a suckling. 'Sdeath! Had I but known that such a woman was watching--for she was there no doubt--I might have avoided that accursed encounter. She saw it all--she must have seen it!

Struck down from my horse, defeated--'Sdeath!"

The exclamation hoa.r.s.ely hissing through his teeth, with the fierce expression that accompanied it, showed how bitterly he bore his humiliation. It was not only the pain of his recent wound--though that may have added to his irritation--but the sting of defeat that was rankling in his soul--defeat under such eyes as those of Marion Wade!

"'Sdeath!" he again exclaimed, striding nervously to and fro. "Who and what can the fellow be? Only his name could they tell me--nothing more--Holtspur! Not known to Sir Marmaduke before yesterday! He cannot, then, have been known to _her_? He cannot have had an opportunity for _that_? Not yet--not yet!"

"Perhaps," he continued after a pause, his brow once more brightening, "they have never met? She may not have witnessed the unfortunate affair? Is it certain she was on the ground? I did not see her.

"After all the man may be married? He's old enough. But, no: the glove in his hat--I had forgotten that. It could scarcely be his wife's! Ha!

ha! ha! what signifies? I've been a blessed Benedict myself; and yet while so, have worn my beaver loaded with love-tokens. I wonder to whom that glove belonged. Ha! Death and the devil!"

Scarthe had been pacing the apartment, not from side to side, but in every direction, as his wandering thoughts carried him. As the blasphemous exclamation escaped from his lips, he stopped suddenly--his eyes becoming fixed upon some object before him!