CHAPTER V.
When Rochester casually stopped, an hour after the king's visit, at the humble residence of Colonel Boynton, he was surprised to find much confusion there. Two rough-looking strangers seemed to have taken possession of the apartment usually occupied by the veteran. The unfortunate old man stood passive, cold, and immoveable, while his pretty daughter Margaret hung round his neck, weeping bitterly, and pleading alternately with him and with the strangers, who—the instruments of a flinty-hearted creditor—seemed quite unmoved by her touching sorrow.
"What is this, my good friend?" asked Rochester, taking the colonel by the hand.
"'Tis nothing," he replied, with a quivering lip, as he turned his gaze upon his daughter; "I have been deficient in punctuality to an impatient creditor, and he thinks the discipline of a prison may quicken my memory and resources."
"Out upon him, the hard-hearted knave!" exclaimed Rochester, "he should have his ears slit to teach him better manners."
"Oh, sir, speak to them!" cried Margaret, pointing to the officers; "they refuse to let me bear my poor father company."
Rochester took the commitment from one of the men, and glancing at the amount of the debt, proceeded at once to liquidate it from the king's purse.
"Hold, sir!" said Boynton, interposing. "I thank you from my soul for your intentions, but I cannot consent to receive charity from mortal man."
"I had no thought of charity, my excellent friend," said Rochester; "'tis only to exchange places with your creditor that I intend, and shall, at your earliest convenience, expect payment at your hands.—Think," he added in a lower tone, "of this fair girl, and leave not her youth and inexperience exposed to the temptations and corruptions by which she would be surrounded in your absence."
This argument was too powerful to be resisted. The gallant old colonel shook his friend's offered hand, as he suffered him to pay the debt, and dismiss the myrmidons of the law.
"I say it is no obligation," Rochester observed, in reply to the veteran's reiterated acknowledgments; "fortune has smiles in store for you yet, nor will they be withheld much longer. I must leave you now, though," he said, smiling at a passing idea, "for I have this night to superintend the planetary influences, in order to prevent the prognostications of the stars from failing."
The colonel looked after him as he departed, but without comprehending a word of his astrological remarks.