“There is a proclamation out,” he said, “that all Spaniards in this realm, of whatever degree, are either to quit it straightway, or to give good and sufficient surety for their behaviours. But thou need’st not to be troubled hereat; for I will write off to London to-day, to my worshipful friend Sir Walter Raleigh, and beseech him to act in this matter in my behalf, and be thy surety.”
“’Tis a good thought, and should be despatched with all convenience,” replied Don Felix.
“Yet there will be some delay in it, I dare affirm,” returned Sir Edgar. “’Twould be executed out of hand, an’ my good friend Captain Clifford were here.”
“Now, God forefend, Sir, I should ever take a service at his hand!” exclaimed Don Felix, with a show of excessive indignation.
“And wherefore not, I prithee?” rejoined Sir Edgar. “But I remember me, on second thought, you were at discord one time. Beseech thee, let me make you friends.”
“Never!” cried Don Felix, vehemently.
“That is a hard word, Felix,” answered Sir Edgar, in a tone of remonstrance. “Let me not fall in thy regard, an’ I hold him dearly still; for the evil he hath done thee—if he have done thee any evil—cannot mete with the good he hath done me.”
“He hath done no evil to mine own self,” replied Don Felix, “yet hath he wronged a friend of mine, whom I hold next to thee, beyond the utmost limit of forgiveness. But to make thee understand his guilt, I should have to unfold to thee, at more length than thou mightst choose, its sum and particulars.”
“’Fore God, thou makest me fairly marvel!” exclaimed Sir Edgar. “’Twere wronging him to hear thy tale; for, believe me, thy friend, be he who he will, hath but practised on thee, and told thee what is without truth.”