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Updated: July 20, 2025
Evander listened to his ebullient praises in silence. He did not think that the Lady of Harby should be so spoken of and by such an one. Over-eating and especially over-drinking were ever distasteful to him, and he took it that Halfman was on the high-road to becoming drunk. But in this he was wrong.
Halfman eyed the viands with approval, while Evander returned gravely Mrs. Satchell's florid bobs and greetings. "I saw to it last night," he went on, "that Harby was revictualled. You pinched us, sir, you pared us; our larder was as lean as a stork's leg, but to-day we can eat our fill." And, indeed, the table now being spread by Mrs. Satchell's directions bore out the assertion of Halfman.
"He had a roguish son," he said; "but I am loath to admit that he came to a bad end, unless it be so to end at ease in Harby. For I am that same Hercules Halfman, at your service, my ancient ape, come back to Harby after nigh thirty years of sea-travel and land-travel, with no other purpose in my mind than to sit at my ease by mine own hearth in winter and to loll in my garden in summer.
The gracious Eleanor of Castile died in 1290, at Harby, in Nottinghamshire, near Lincoln, and the devotion of the king to the partner of his youth found a striking expression in the sculptured crosses, which marked the successive resting-places of her corpse on its last journey from Harby to Westminster Abbey.
Thus we learn incidentally from some reflections on the wickedness of the great, that while the King reigned in Oxford to Master Marfleet he is always the "Man of Blood" when he is not Nebuchadnezzar Lady Brilliana Harby was in such favor at the court and with the Queen as to obtain patents of knighthood for two neighbors of hers, one Paul Hungerford and one Peter Rainham.
"But, indeed, it was bravely done." "It was bravely devised," Halfman asserted. "It was my lady's thought. She would never let a rascally Roundhead I crave your pardon, she would never let an enemy dream that we were in lack of aught at Harby that could help us to serve the King." "Your lady is a very brave lady," Evander said, quietly.
"What a wonderful world it is which can hold at once such men as my cousin Randolph or you or Rufus Quaryll and these hangbacks who shame Harby. These three are professed my very good suitors, but they have made no move to our help. Well, let them hang for a tray of knaves. We need them not. We know that the King's cause must triumph and so we are wise to be blithe."
He was no longer a poor lad with the world before him to whom the Lord of Harby was little less than the viceregent of God; he was a free man, he was a rich man, he had multiplied existences, had drunk of the wine of life from many casks and yet maintained through all a kind of cleanness of palate, ready for any vintage yet unbroached, be it white or red.
"Colonel Cromwell is not a brewer, though he would be no worse a man if he were. I am honored in his friendship, in his service. He is a great man and a great Englishman." "And what," Brilliana asked, "has this great man to do with Harby that he sends you here?" "He sends me here," the Puritan answered, "to haul down your flag."
He was now the magnificent host, soldier still, but soldier at his ease, and he played at Lord of Harby with enthusiasm. "You are in the right," he said. "It is ill for man to sit alone at meat, for it encourages whimsical humors and the mounting of crudities to the brain.
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