Part 41 (1/2)
The young lady recovered her recollection in time to suppress the remainder of the sentence, though the grateful expression of Griffith's eye sufficiently indicated that he had, in his thoughts, filled the sentence with expressions abundantly flattering to his own feelings.
”How's this, again!” cried the colonel; ”my two wards embracing and fondling a vagrant, vagabond peddler, before my eyes! Is this treason, Mr. Griffith? Or what means the extraordinary visit of this young gentleman?”
”Is it extraordinary, sir,” said Merry himself, losing his a.s.sumed awkwardness in the ease and confidence of one whose faculties had been early exercised, ”that a boy like myself, dest.i.tute of mother and sisters, should take a like risk on himself, to visit the only two female relatives he has in the world?”
”Why this disguise, then? surely, young gentleman, it was unnecessary to enter the dwelling of old George Howard on such an errand clandestinely, even though your tender years have been practised on, to lead you astray from your allegiance. Mr. Griffith and Captain Manual must pardon me, if I express sentiments, at my own table, that they may find unpleasant; but this business requires us to be explicit.”
”The hospitality of Colonel Howard is unquestionable,” returned the boy; ”but he has a great reputation for his loyalty to the crown.”
”Ay, young gentleman; and, I trust, with some justice.”
”Would it, then, be safe, to entrust my person in the hands of one who might think it his duty to detain me?”
”This is plausible enough, Captain Borroughcliffe, and I doubt not the boy speaks with candor. I would, now, that my kinsman, Mr. Christopher Dillon, were here, that I might learn if it would be misprision of treason to permit this youth to depart, unmolested, and without exchange?”
”Inquire of the young gentleman, after the Cacique,” returned the recruiting officer, who, apparently satisfied in producing the exposure of Merry, had resumed his seat at the table; ”perhaps he is, in verity, an amba.s.sador, empowered to treat on behalf of his highness.”
”How say you?” demanded the colonel; ”do you know anything of my kinsman?”
The anxious eyes of the whole party were fastened on the boy for many moments, witnessing the sudden change from careless freedom to deep horror expressed in his countenance. At length he uttered in an undertone the secret of Dillon's fate.
”He is dead.”
”Dead!” repeated every voice in the room.
”Yes, dead!” said the boy, gazing at the pallid faces of those who surrounded him.
A long and fearful silence succeeded the announcement of this intelligence, which was only interrupted by Griffith, who said:
”Explain the manner of his death, sir, and where his body lies.”
”His body lies interred in the sands,” returned Merry, with a deliberation that proceeded from an opening perception that, if he uttered too much, he might betray the loss of the Ariel, and, consequently, endanger the liberty of Barnstable.
”In the sands?” was echoed from every part of the room.
”Ay, in the sands; but how he died, I cannot explain.”
”He has been murdered!” exclaimed Colonel Howard, whose command of utterance was now amply restored to him; ”he has been treacherously, and dastardly, and basely murdered!”
”He has _not_ been murdered,” said the boy, firmly; ”nor did he meet his death among those who deserve the name either of traitors or of dastards.”
”Said you not that he was dead? that my kinsman was buried in the sands of the seash.o.r.e?”
”Both are true, sir--”
”And you refuse to explain how he met his death, and why he has been thus ignominiously interred?”
”He received his interment by my orders, sir; and if there be ignominy about his grave, his own acts have heaped it on him. As to the manner of his death, I cannot, and will not speak.”
”Be calm, my cousin,” said Cecilia, in an imploring voice; ”respect the age of my uncle, and remember his strong attachment to Mr. Dillon.”