“But he may be foiled yet,” resumed Bernard. “Where art thou staying?”
“With the Nevilles,” replied the cavalier, with some hesitation; “but ’tis only for a day or two. In a week, at furthest, I must be gone.”
“I would rather thou didst not eat the salt of Papists,” said Bernard; “but for a day or two let it be so. I shall be on the watch, and will see thee again, by some means or other, before long. Meanwhile, fare thee well!”
“Farewell, Bernard!” answered the cavalier, extending his hand.
They shook hands, and parted. Bernard took his way towards the neighbouring wood; and the cavalier, without once looking behind, turned to the high-road, and walked leisurely homewards.
Though his recent conversation with Bernard had shown him to be cordially attached to that person, it must not be supposed that this reconciled him, in the least degree, to the unlawfulness and violence of Bernard’s pursuits. What was the precise nature of those pursuits he did not know; but a sufficiency had been revealed to him, in the affair of the previous evening, to bespeak them unlawful, and even to stain them with the crying guilt of blood. This was a melancholy recollection, and, only that past obligations had taught him to look upon Bernard as his best friend, it would have been impossible for him, with the principles he entertained, to have maintained any correspondence with that individual, whatever prospect of ultimate good or advantage it might have held out to himself. But though his dependence on Bernard was almost unalienable, it was for the great debt which he already owed him, and which was bound up with the deepest feelings of his heart, that he continued to regard him as his truest friend. He knew, too, that Bernard had embarked in the enterprise against Sir Edgar Neville more from motives of revenge, which, however mistaken, had sprung originally from a cruel and overwhelming provocation, than from a desire of spoil; and this considerably lessened his detestation, if we may use such a strong term, of his recent outrage.
On his arrival at Neville Grange, Hildebrand Clifford—for so the cavalier was named—found that Sir Edgar and his daughter had now descended to the breakfast-room. By them he was introduced to the third member of the family, Don Felix di Corva, who, as has before been set forth, was a Spaniard by birth, and related to Sir Edgar’s deceased wife in the degree of cousin.
Don Felix was a youthful-looking man, of a slight figure, and about the middle height. His complexion was dark, yet not of that sparkling darkness which we associate with the young faces of his country, but rather of a sallow tint, such as, in many instances, arises from long confinement, or from an uncertain and delicate state of health. His dark eyes, too, though brilliant, were rather subtle than deep, and more indicative of cunning, than denotive of penetration. On a first meeting, however, and to an individual who did not found impressions on the illusive and equivocal testimony of personal appearance, these unfavourable points in his ensemble might have escaped notice; but Don Felix, by an unlucky fate, inherited a large share of the pride and coldness of several generations of ancestors, and these imparted to his manners a reserve and formality, that invited attention to his every defect.
But though his disposition did not generally incline him to form new acquaintances, he received Hildebrand, on this occasion, with every mark of courtesy and respect. After the first interchange of compliments had been despatched, he inquired anxiously concerning the state of his wound, and expressed himself gratified, in common with his two relations, that it promised so fairly to be shortly healed. As the conversation passed to ordinary topics, he seemed, it is true, to shrink more into himself; but his reserve was less noticeable in the general animation, and thus escaped remark.
The meal over, Sir Edgar announced his intention of visiting a neighbouring magistrate, named Shedlock (to whom this history has before had occasion to allude), for the purpose of acquainting him with the particulars of the affair of the preceding evening. Don Felix accompanied him; and Hildebrand and the fair Evaline, who had already become fast friends, were left to entertain each other till their return.