Part 2 (1/2)
”You are a good judge, Captain; you have had experience,” said the publican.
”There was a man of some mark in the country where this Weatherby lived, a Sir George Alwin, who, taking pity on the unhappy lady, did her sundry acts of kindness--harmless acts, people say; such as you or I, neighbours, would be moved to do for a distressed female; but the lady was of rare beauty, and the husband full of foul fancies.
”About this time, it was unlucky that nature wrought a change, and the lady grew l.u.s.ty for the first time in six years marriage. To make the story short, Weatherby was free with his dagger, and in the street, at Doncaster, in the midst of a public show, he stabbed Alwin to the heart.”
The wood ranger silently shook his head, and the publican opened his watery eyes in astonishment.
”By the aid of a fleet horse and private enemies of the murdered man, Weatherby escaped out of the kingdom, and was never afterwards heard of.”
”And died like a dog, I s'pose,” said Arnold de la Grange.
”Likely enough,” replied Dauntrees.
”The poor lady was struck down with the horror of the deed, and had nearly gone to her grave. But Heaven was kind, and she survived it, and was relieved of her burden in the birth of a son. For some years afterwards, by the bounty of friends, but with many a struggle--for her means were scanty--she made s.h.i.+ft to dwell in England. At last she returned to Holland, where she found a resting place in her native earth, having lived long enough to see her son, a well grown lad, safely taken in charge by her brother, a merchant of Antwerp. The parents were both attached to our Church of Rome, and the son was sent by his uncle to the Jesuit school of his own city. Misfortune overtook the merchant, and he died before the nephew had reached his fourteenth year. But the good priests of Antwerp tended the lad with the care of parents, and would have reared him as a servant of the altar. When our Lord Baltimore was in the Netherlands, three years ago, he found Albert Verheyden, (the youth has ever borne his mother's name,) in the Seminary. His Lords.h.i.+p took a liking to him and brought him into his own service. Master Albert was then but eighteen. There is the whole story. It is as dry as a muscat raisin. It sticks in the throat, masters,--so moisten, moisten!”
”It is a marvellous touching story,” said the innkeeper, as he swallowed at a draught a full goblet.
”The hot hand and the cold steel,” said Arnold, thoughtfully, ”hold too much acquaintance in these times. Master Albert is an honest youth, and a good youth, and a brave follower too, of hawk or hound, Captain Dauntrees.”
”Then there is good reason for a cup to the secretary,” said the Captain, filling again. ”The world hath many arguments for a thirsty man. The blight of the year fall upon this sadness! Let us change our discourse--I would carouse a little, friends: It is salutary to laugh.
Thanks to my patron, I am a bachelor! So drink, Master Arnold, mein sauff bruder, as we used to say on the Rhine.”
”Ich trinck, euch zu,” was the reply of the forester, as he answered the challenge with a sparkling eye, and a face lit up with smiles; ”a good lad, an excellent lad, though he come of a hot-brained father!”
The wine began to show itself upon the revellers; for by this time they had nearly got through half of the complement of the wager. The effect of this potation upon the Captain was to give him a more flushed brow, and a moister eye, and to administer somewhat to the volubility of his tongue. It had wrought no further harm, for Dauntrees was bottle-proof.
Upon the forester it was equally harmless, rather enhancing than dissipating his saturnine steadfastness of demeanour. He was, perchance, somewhat more precise and thoughtful. Garret Weasel, of the three, was the only weak vessel. With every cup of the last half hour he grew more supple.
”Ads heartlikens!” he exclaimed, ”but this wine doth tingle, Captain Dauntrees. Here is a fig for my wife Dorothy! Come and go as you list--none of your fetch and carry! that's what the world is coming to, amongst us married cattle!”
”Thou art a valorous tapster,” said the Captain.
”I am the man to stand by his friend, Captain mine; and I am thy friend, Captain--Papist or Roman though they call thee!”
”A man for need, Garret!” said Dauntrees, patting him on the head; ”a dozen flasks or so, when a friend wants them, come without the asking.”
”And I pay my wagers, I warrant, Captain, like a true comrade.”
”Like a prince, Garret, who does not stop to count the score, but makes sure of the total by throwing in a handful over.”
”I am no puritan, Master Dauntrees, I tell thee.”
”Thou hast the port of a cavalier, good Weasel. Thou wouldst have done deadly havoc amongst the round-heads, if they but took thee in the fact of discharging a wager. Thou wert scarce in debt, after this fas.h.i.+on, at Worcester, my valiant drawer. Thy evil destiny kept thee empty on that day.”
”Ha, ha, ha! a shrewd memory for a stale jest, Captain Dauntrees. The world is slanderous, though I care little for it. You said you would be merry; shall we not have a song? Come, troll us a catch, Captain.”
”I am of thy humour, old madcap; I'll wag it with thee bravely,”
replied Dauntrees, as he struck up a brisk drinking-bout glee of that day, in which he was followed by the treble voice of the publican, who at the same time rose from his seat and accompanied the music with some unsteady gyrations in the manner of a dance upon the gravel.