After they had gone a short distance, the last-named personage, addressing Hildebrand, expressed a desire to be set on his feet, as he was perfectly able to pursue his way unaided. Hildebrand, who had caught him up with the impression that he was seriously hurt, instantly complied with his request; but, at the same time, declared that he would see him bestowed in safety, either at his own residence, or that of Donna Inez, before he proceeded further.
“There is no safety here now,” answered the cavalier, in an agitated voice, “for either thee or me. I must with thee to England.”
Hildebrand was silent.
“Think not,” resumed the cavalier, with increased agitation, “that I would impose myself on thee at thy charge. I have left a casket on board thy ship, under care of thy lieutenant here, that will more than meet my expenditure. Howbeit, rather than put thee to trouble——”
“Prithee name it not, Senhor,” replied Hildebrand. “All that I have, to my very life, is thine, and shall be to the last. Go with me, an’ thou wilt. But,” he added, in a lower tone, so as not to be heard by Halyard, “shall we not see thy fair cousin first?”
“Dost thou so love her, then?” asked the cavalier. And Hildebrand thought that his small, soft hand, which he still held in his, trembled a little, and lost itself in his clasp.
“I would see her before we go,” Hildebrand answered; “for we may never meet again.”
The cavalier drew back his hand.
“She will not see thee,” he said, hastily. “She hath given me a billet for thee, wherein, as I understood her, she so tells thee her mind. Wilt thou read it?”
Then, without raising his eyes, which for the last few minutes had been fixed on the ground, he presented Hildebrand with a sealed billet. The latter person eagerly accepted it, and, with an involuntary sigh, thrust it into his vest.