“Come,” answered Aylesford, in a heat, rising from the table, “I’ve had enough of this. Remember, I was once your master. Have you forgotten, sirrah, how to be respectful?”
“I cry your pardon,” answered Arrison, with a profound obeisance, though with a slight tone of mockery. “Sit down again, Mr. Aylesford. I do forget myself sometimes, in talking to you, but it’s because you’ve always allowed me to be familiar. There, don’t let us quarrel; I may want your countenance yet; and in return might be of use even in this affair, if you’d tell me what’s the matter.”
Aylesford allowed himself to be persuaded to take a seat again; but, had he seen the cat-like glance of Arrison, he would have felt far less confidence in the outlaw’s professions.
“You have been a faithful fellow,” said Aylesford. “I’ll not deny that. But this is an affair above your surgery. However, you’ve a quick wit, and may hit on something; and I want somebody to advise with. I’m desperately in love with my cousin, who’s more beautiful even than report allows, and she won’t have me.”
Arrison felt very much inclined to make a jest of Aylesford at this confession. But he saw that his guest was in no mood for banter. So he answered—
“She must be a prude of the worst kind, then.”
“No, she’s in love with a rebel officer, who is stationed at the Forks, a Major Gordon,” and he ended with a hearty curse on his rival.
“Are you sure of this?”
“She has refused me, and that’s enough,” replied Aylesford, passionately, drinking off a bumper, and setting the glass down with such force as to dash it to splinters. “Besides, this fellow has saved her life, or she thinks he has, which is the same. The ship, in which she came over, was wrecked off the mouth of the river, and he had a hand, somehow or other, in getting her ashore. I had my sword at the rascal’s throat this morning, and was on the high road to revenge, when we were interrupted.” And he proceeded to narrate the rencontre, which Uncle Lawrence had so opportunely broken off.
“That old, canting scoundrel again,” answered Arrison. “Well, he hasn’t long to run. He’s about hunted to the end of his track, I take it; and I’ll put a bullet through him, or a knife into him, before the moon’s a week older; and so have my revenge for the harm he did me with your uncle, and for his stopping your slitting this Major’s windpipe. But, to come back to your own affairs,” continued the villain, “I don’t see that they’re half as desperate as you think they are. You remember the old proverb, ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ don’t you?”