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Updated: June 11, 2025
And, without so much as a bow, he swung round on his heel and left her. It was her turn to grow angry now, and well it was for him that he had not tarried. She dwelt with scorn upon his parting taunt, bethinking herself that in truth she had exaggerated her opinions of Galliard's merits. Her feelings towards that ungodly gentleman were rather of pity than aught else.
It amounted to betraying the lad into a betrayal of his friends the people of his future wife. Whatever the issue for Crispin, 'twas odds Kenneth's prospect of wedding this Cynthia would be blighted for all time by the action into which Galliard proposed to thrust him all unconscious. So stood the case in Galliard's mind, and the scales fell now on one side, now on the other.
What then?" he repeated, raising his voice into accents of defiance. Grief and amazement were blended in Galliard's glance, and also, maybe, some reproach. Hogan, standing squarely upon the hearth, was beset by the desire to kick Master Kenneth, or Master Jocelyn, into the street.
The faint grey of the dawn was the only light that penetrated the gloom of that pit. "The Fates are kind, Kenneth," he whispered. "Those fools sit with closed doors. Come." But Kenneth laid his hand upon Galliard's sleeve. "What if the door should open as we pass?" "Someone will die," muttered Crispin back. "But pray God that it may not. We must run the risk." "Is there no other way?"
"I have none, sir, in that connexion, and I am willing to do as you suggest." He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew forth the rings, the brooch and the ear-ring he had won. "Here, sir, are your trinkets." "Sir," cried Mr. Foster, thrown into some confusion by Galliard's unquestioning generosity, "I am indebted to you. Rat me, sir, I am indeed. You shall have my note of hand on the instant.
"It is no lie," Joseph cried, in accents so earnest that some of the unbelief passed again from Galliard's face. "It is the truth-God's truth. Your son lives." "Hell-hound, it is a lie! On that fell night, as I swooned under your cowardly thrust, I heard you calling to your brother to slit the squalling bastard's throat. Those were your very words, Master Joseph."
But 'neath the suasion of Galliard's inexorable eye he sat limp and docile, vowing to himself that on the morrow he would lay the matter before Lord Middleton, and thus not only endeavour to make amends for his present guilty silence, but rid himself also of the companionship of this ruffianly Sir Crispin, to whom no doubt a hempen justice would be meted.
"Father, if that be all that grieves you, I can reassure you. I do not love Kenneth." "You apprehend me amiss," said he tartly. "Do you recall the story of Sir Crispin Galliard's life that you had from Kenneth on the night of Joseph's return?" His voice shook as he put the question. "Why, yes.
For the rest my tale may wile away a little of the time that's left, and when you have heard me you shall judge me, Kenneth. What say you?" Despite the parlous condition whereunto the fear of the morrow had reduced him, this new tone of Galliard's so wrought upon him then that he was almost eager in his request that Sir Crispin should unfold his story.
And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort in sleep. His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick. "You misapprehend me, Sir Crispin," cried the lad, stung almost to shame by Galliard's reproach, and also mayhap into some fear that hereafter he should find little mercy for his own lack of it towards a poor fellow-sinner. "I spoke not as I would judge, but as the Church teaches."
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