CHAPTER XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING
Through the long October night Crispin and Hogan sat on, and neithersought his bed. Crispin's quick wits his burst of grief once over--hadbeen swift to fasten on a plan to accomplish that which he hadundertaken.
One difficulty confronted him, and until he had mentioned it to Hoganseemed unsurmountable he had need of a ship. But in this the Irishmancould assist him. He knew of a vessel then at Greenwich, whose masterwas in his debt, which should suit the purpose. Money, however, wouldbe needed. But when Crispin announced that he was master of some twohundred Caroluses, Hogan, with a wave of the hand, declared the mattersettled. Less than half that sum would hire the man he knew of. Thatdetermined, Crispin unfolded his project to Hogan, who laughed at thesimplicity of it, for all that inwardly he cursed the risk Sir Crispinmust run for the sake of one so unworthy.
"If the maid loves him, the thing is as good as done."
"The maid does not love him; leastways, I fear not."
Hogan was not surprised.
"Why, then it will be difficult, well-nigh impossible." And the Irishmanbecame grave.
But Crispin laughed unpleasantly. Years and misfortune had made himcynical.
"What is the love of a maid?" quoth he derisively. "A caprice, a fancy,a thing that may be guided, overcome or compelled as the occasion shalldemand. Opportunity is love's parent, Hogan, and given that, any maidmay love any man. Cynthia shall love my son."
"But if she prove rebellious? If she say nay to your proposals? Thereare such women."
"How then? Am I not the stronger? In such a case it shall be mine tocompel her, and as I find her, so shall I carry her away. It will benone so poor a vengeance on the Ashburns after all." His brow grewclouded. "But not what I had dreamed of; what I should have taken hadhe not cheated me. To forgo it now--after all these years of waiting--isanother sacrifice I make to Jocelyn. To serve him in this matter I mustproceed cautiously. Cynthia may fret and fume and stamp, but willy-nillyI shall carry her away. Once she is in France, friendless, alone, I makeno doubt that she will see the convenience of loving Jocelyn--leastwaysof wedding him and thus shall I have more than repaired the injuries Ihave done him."
The Irishman's broad face was very grave; his reckless merry eye fixedGalliard with a look of sorrow, and this grey-haired, sinning soldier offortune, who had never known a conscience, muttered softly:
"It is not a nice thing you contemplate, Cris."
Despite himself, Galliard winced, and his glance fell before Hogan's.For a moment he saw the business in its true light, and he wavered inhis purpose. Then, with a short bark of laughter:
"Gadso, you are sentimental, Harry!" said he, to add, more gravely:"There is my son, and in this lies the only way to his heart.".
Hogan stretched a hand across the table, and set it upon Crispin's arm.
"Is he worth such a stain upon your honour, Crispin?"
There was a pause.
"Is it not late in the day, Hogan, for you and me to prate of honour?"asked Crispin bitterly, yet with averted gaze. "God knows my honour isas like honour as a beggar's rags are like unto a cloak of ermine. Whatsignifies another splash, another rent in that which is tattered beyondall semblance of its original condition?"
"I asked you," the Irishman persisted, "whether your son was worth thesacrifice that the vile deed you contemplate entails?"
Crispin shook his arm from the other's grip, and rose abruptly. Hecrossed to the window, and drew back the curtain.
"Day is breaking," said he gruffly. Then turning, and facing Hoganacross the room, "I have pledged my word to Jocelyn," he said. "Theway I have chosen is the only one, and I shall follow it. But if yourconscience cries out against it, Hogan, I give you back your promise ofassistance, and I shall shift alone. I have done so all my life."
Hogan shrugged his massive shoulders, and reached out for the bottle ofstrong waters.
"If you are resolved, there is an end to it. My conscience shall nottrouble me, and upon what aid I have promised and what more I can give,you may depend. I drink to the success of your undertaking."
Thereafter they discussed the matter of the vessel that Crispin wouldrequire, and it was arranged between them that Hogan should send amessage to the skipper, bidding him come to Harwich, and there await andplace himself at the command of Sir Crispin Galliard. For fifty poundsHogan thought that he would undertake to land Sir Crispin in France. Themessenger might be dispatched forthwith, and the Lady Jane should be atHarwich, two days later.
By the time they had determined upon this, the inmates of the hostelrywere astir, and from the innyard came to them the noise of bustle andpreparation for the day.
Presently they left the chamber where they had sat so long, and at theyard pump the Tavern Knight performed a rude morning toilet. Thereafter,on a simple fare of herrings and brown ale, they broke their fast; andere that meal was done, Kenneth, pale and worn, with dark circles roundhis eyes, entered the common room, and sat moodily apart. But when laterHogan went to see to the dispatching of his messenger, Crispin rose andapproached the youth.
Kenneth watched him furtively, without pausing in his meal. He had spenta very miserable night pondering over the future, which lookedgloomy enough, and debating whether--forgetting and ignoring what hadpassed--he should return to the genteel poverty of his Scottish home, oraccept the proffered service of this man who announced himself--and whomhe now believed--to be his father. He had thought, but he was far fromhaving chosen between Scotland and France, when Crispin now greeted him,not without constraint.
"Jocelyn," he said, speaking slowly, almost humbly. "In an hour's time Ishall set out to return to Marleigh to fulfil my last night's promise toyou. How I shall accomplish it I scarce know as yet; but accomplish itI shall. I have arranged to have a vessel awaiting me, and within threedays--or four at the most--I look to cross to France, bearing your bridewith me."
He paused for some reply, but none came. The boy sat on with animpassive face, his eyes glued to the table, but his mind busy enoughupon that which his father was pouring into his ear. Presently Crispincontinued:
"You cannot refuse to do as I suggest, Jocelyn. I shall make you thefullest amends for the harm that I have done you, if you but obey mydirections. You must quit this place as soon as possible, and proceed onyour way to London. There you must find a boat to carry you to France,and you will await me at the Auberge du Soleil at Calais. You areagreed, Jocelyn?"
There was a slight pause, and Jocelyn took his resolution. Yet there wasstill a sullen look in the eyes he lifted to his father's face.
"I have little choice, sir," he made answer, "and so I must agree. Ifyou accomplish what you promise, I own that you will have made amends,and I shall crave your pardon for my yesternight's want of faith. Ishall await you at Calais."
Crispin sighed, and for a second his face hardened. It was not theanswer to which he held himself entitled, and for a moment it rose tothe lips of this man of fierce and sudden moods to draw back and letthe son, whom at the moment he began to detest, go his own way, whichassuredly would lead him to perdition. But a second's thought sufficedto quell that mood of his.
"I shall not fail you," he said coldly. "Have you money for thejourney?"
The boy flushed as he remembered that little was left of what JosephAshburn had given him. Crispin saw the flush, and reading aright itsmeaning, he drew from his pocket a purse that he had been fingering,and placed it quietly upon the table. "There are fifty Caroluses in thatbag. That should suffice to carry you to France. Fare you well until wemeet at Calais."
And without giving the boy time to utter thanks that might be unwilling,he quickly left the room.
Within the hour he was in the saddle, and his horse's head was turnednorthwards once more.
He rode through Newport some three hours later without drawing rein. Bythe door of the Raven Inn stood a travelling carriage, upon which he didnot so much as bestow a look.
By the merest thre
ad hangs at times the whole of a man's future life,the destinies even of men as yet unborn. So much may depend indeed upona glance, that had not Crispin kept his eyes that morning upon the greyroad before him, had he chanced to look sideways as he passed the RavenInn at Newport, and seen the Ashburn arms displayed upon the panels ofthat coach, he would of a certainty have paused. And had he done so, hiswhole destiny would assuredly have shaped a different course from thatwhich he was unconsciously steering.
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