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"The action of Lord Brocton in sending the Colonel north instead of south, or at least of lodging him in jail at Stafford, is inexplicable. True, his plan separates father and daughter, which is what he wants, but either of the other methods would have served equally well for that."
I was matched against the powers that be, against my Lord Brocton, whose ability to work this maiden ill was increased a thousandfold by his military authority. I saw my way into Stafford, and I saw no more, not even my way out of it, and least of all my way out of it with the Colonel rescued and restored to his daughter.
Brocton turned white as a sheet, and the old rogue shook as a dead leaf shakes on its twig before the wind strips it off. There was in them none of the family pride which keeps the great families agoing. "I opened the letter. I mastered its contents. I still have it," continued Master Freake, every sentence, like the crash of a sledge-hammer, making these craven bystanders shake at the knees.
Brocton was for ever finding me something to do, rot him, but she did look sweet." "All right, if she did. Never mind our Kate." "Never mind your Kate, you barbarian, you one-eyed anthropathingamy! Oh, Noll, old friend" there was a catch in his voice as he dragged me into the entry at the side of old Comfit's shop, "she's your Kate now, but if I come back, I want her to be my Kate.
"And of course we couldn't put our heads out, for fear of panic," grumbled Nettie Brocton. The day passed somehow, and it was conspicuous by an entire absence of freshmen from the usual intermingling between periods. Even to Jane the reason for this was not clear until, in a burst of confidence with Judith, she outlined her plan of staying over at Lenox "until the ghost business was disposed of."
"Several attempts have been made to recover the letter from you?" "At least three such attempts were made by the late sergeant, and two by my lord Brocton," I replied. "Their lordships' urgent need of recovering the letter is thus proven, and the Court will attach due weight to the facts," said Master Freake.
"You, oh, never. 'Smiting and praying'? 'The arm of the Flesh and the sword of the Spirit." She mouthed the words deliciously. "But, doubtless, when you see my Lord Brocton again, you'll put in the Word and the praying."
In London he made the acquaintance of the Earl of Ridgeley, to whom, indeed, he bore a letter of introduction from a Swedish diplomat in Paris. Through the Earl he had met Lord Brocton, the Earl's only son and heir. The Colonel's hope of employment in the army had not been realized, and this and certain other reasons, which she did not specify, had embittered him against the Government.
"It is deposited, sealed up again, with a sure friend, who has instructions, unless I claim it in person on or before the last day of this year, to deliver it in person to the King. At present no one knows its contents except my lord Brocton who wrote it, and I who read it." "Thank God!" ejaculated the rascal old earl fervently. "Egad," thought I to myself. "It's the Ridgeley estates no less."
One second was all I wanted, and I sat there praying for it and ready for it. Meanwhile the scene, the talk, and she were full of interest. Marry-me-quick's cottage was no hovel, either for size or appointments. Brocton was standing with his back to a dresser.
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