I faced about instantly, laying my hand upon my sword, for this untoward interference startled me not a little. Even in the half dark I knew him; for 'twas none other than the attorney, John Skene.
CHAPTER XVI
THE SIEGE OF PETTY WALES
We had stood awhile fronting each other thus, when "By the Mass!" cried Mr. Skene, clapping his open palm upon my shoulder, "'tis Mr. Denis Cleeve or the devil is in it," and so led me forward to the light.
"Are you two acquainted, then?" asked Idonia, her whole countenance of gravity exchanged for a bewildered expectancy. "Oh, why knew I not of this sooner? Oh, I am glad," she said, as she advanced to us, her bosom heaving, and such a light of pleasure in her eyes, as it seemed to lighten the very room itself, that had formerly showed so darksome and sinister.
"But tell me," she went on eagerly, and came so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek, "is it a long while you have been friends?"
Now so struck with amazement was I, no less by the suddenness of this recognition than by the satire that Idonia's innocent speech implied, as I could answer nothing; but leaving the handling my sword, I stood resigned to what should follow.
"I think we be hardly friends yet," said Skene, with a laugh of great good nature, "and 'twould be a bolder coroner than I, who should pronounce all enmity dead between us. Am I not in the right, Master Cleeve?" he ended, on a note of some sharpness.
I looked up at that, first at Idonia to see how she took the matter, and then at Skene.