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"And now?" my lord of Falmouth queried. "H'm!" cried Master Mervale, and he tossed his head. "You are very unreasonable in anger! you are a veritable Turk! you struck me!" The marquis rose, bowing low to his former adversary. "Master Mervale," said the marquis, "I hereby tender you my unreserved apologies for the affront I put upon you.
So they came to the bank of the artificial pond. Master Mervale swerved as with an oath the marquis pounced at him. Master Mervale's foot caught in the root of a great willow, and Master Mervale splashed into ten feet of still water, that glistened like quicksilver in the sunlight.
"And if the choice lay between Ursula and Katherine?" "Oh, fool! Oh, pink-cheeked, utter ignorant fool!" the marquis groaned. "Did I not say you knew nothing of love?" "Heigho!" Master Mervale put aside all glum-faced discussion, with a little yawn, and sprang to his feet. "Then we can but hope that somewhere, somehow, Mistress Katherine yet lives and in her own good time may reappear.
One brother slain in a duel, Master Mervale; one killed in Wyatt's Rebellion; my father dying, and Heaven rest his soul! not over-eager to meet his Maker. There you have it, Master Mervale, a right pleasant jest of Fortune's perpetration, I a marquis, my own master, fit mate for any woman in the kingdom, and Kate my Kate who was past human praising! vanished." "Vanished?"
Pray Heaven, it may swell his heart a thousandfold or so, and thus hearten him for wholesome exercise after his ducking a friendly thrust or two, a little judicious bloodletting to ward off the effects of the damp." The marquis started as Master Mervale grounded on a shallow and rose, dripping, knee-deep among the lily-pads. "Oh, splendor of God!" cried the marquis.
I was the cadet then: Heaven helps them that help themselves, says my father, and I ha'n't a penny for you. My way was yet to make in the world; to saddle myself with a dowerless wench even a wench whose least 'Good-morning' set a man's heart hammering at his ribs would have been folly, Master Mervale. Utter, improvident, shiftless, bedlamite folly, lad!" "H'm!"
"Yet, Master Mervale," pursued the marquis, equably, but without smiling, "there be lovers in the world that have eyes?" "Doubtless, my lord," said the boy.
"Oh, the block! the curd-faced cheat!" cried the marquis. "Will nothing move you?" With his left hand he struck at the boy. Thereupon Master Mervale gasped, and turning with a great sob, ran through the gardens. The marquis laughed discordantly; then he followed, taking big leaps as he ran and flourishing his sword. "Oh, the coward!" he shouted; "Oh, the milk-livered rogue! Oh, you paltry rabbit!"
Lord Falmouth's look was murderous, as he turned in the shadow of a white-lilac bush and spoke carefully through sharp breaths that shook his great body. "There are," said he, "certain matters I must immediately discuss with my lord of Pevensey. I desire you, Master Mervale, to fetch him to the spot where we parted last, so that we may talk over these matters quietly and undisturbed.
What I have told you of is past, Master Mervale; and a wise man does not meditate unthriftily upon spilt milk." "You are adamant?" sighed the boy. "The nether millstone," said the marquis, smiling grimly, "is in comparison a pillow of down." "Yet yet the milk was sweet, my lord?" the boy suggested, with a faint answering smile. "Sweet!" The marquis' voice had a deep tremor.
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