"Have you no other terms to propose," replied Melchior.
"None."
"Then I will carry your message, and give you his answer to-morrow."
Melchior then brought in another basket, and took away the former, and did not make his appearance till the next day. I now had recovered my strength, and determined to take some decided measures, but how to act I knew not. I reflected all night, and the next morning (that is, according to my supposition) I attacked the basket. Whether it was that ennui or weakness occasioned it, I cannot tell, but either way, I drank too much wine, and was ready for any daring deed, when Melchior again the door.
"Sir Henry will not accept of your terms. I thought not," said Melchior, "I am sorry—very sorry."
"Melchior," replied I, starting up; "let us have no more of this duplicity. I am not quite so ignorant as you suppose. I know who Fleta is, and who you are."
"Indeed," replied Melchior; "perhaps you will explain?"
"I will. You, Melchior, are Sir Henry de Clare; you succeeded to your estates by the death of your elder brother, from a fall when hunting."
Melchior appeared astonished.
"Indeed!" replied he; "pray go on. You have made a gentleman of me."