"There, go and tell Sir William," said Tony, when the boy rejoined him, "and lay the money on the table in our lord's room.--And hark you, Frill, you may as well keep an eye on Sir William's doings; I've doubts, Frill, I have doubts; and I should like to know what he is seeking; for I can't help thinking there's more under his jerkin than God's will and a good conscience."
"If I thought he meant my lord any harm," answered the boy, boldly, "I'd drive my dagger into him."
"Pooh! nonsense; prick him with a needle or a cobbler's awl," answered Tony, "you'd only let him blood and make him more feverish towards spring time. No, no, my boy, he'll give no cause for offence; but a man may do more harm sometimes with a simple word than a drawn sword--I'll watch him well, however; do you so, too; and if you find out anything, let me know.--Now, away with you, away with you, and tell the good man above; for if he do not make haste, he will not be in time, and then your young bones are likely to suffer."
The page turned to obey, but he had scarcely reached the archway, when William Lovet issued forth, descending from above, and called loudly for his horse.
The page's communication, however, seemed to make an alteration in his purpose; and after pausing for a moment or two to think, he re-entered the house, ordering everything to be prepared for him to join the train of Frederic and Elizabeth, as soon as he heard them coming down the hill.
William Lovet was a very different man in the solitude of his own chamber and in the company of his cousin. He now waited some twenty minutes, expecting almost every moment to hear the approach of the cavalcade, which was to pass before the windows; but he showed no impatience, no lover-like haste to join the lady at whose suggestion he doubted not the invitation had been given. Sitting at the table, with his hat cast down and his sword taken out of the belt, he leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed buried in meditation. His brow was contracted, and heavy with apparently gloomy thought; and his hand played with the curls of his long dark hair unconsciously. Like many men of strong passions, who set a careful guard upon their tongue when any other human being is near to hear and comment on their words, but feel painfully the restraint then put upon themselves, he was apt, as if for relief, to suffer the secret counsels of his heart to break forth at times, when he felt perfectly certain they would reach no other ear but his own. And this was one of those moments when the workings of strong purposes within him, forced him to give way to the dangerous habit. It was no long continued monologue that he spoke, no loud and vehement outburst of passion; but broken fragments of sentences--as if a portion of his thoughts would clothe themselves in words, and were suddenly checked before they were complete--came forth muttered and disjointed from his lips.
"It must do this time," he said; and then he fell into thought again, continuing, in about a minute after, "If it do not, means must be found to make it--the time is very short--In another year he goes back--To think of his having wasted full four years amongst all that could tempt a man!--He must be a stone--but he is touched now, or I am mistaken--I must get this woman to help me--make her a tool when she thinks herself a conqueror! Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed aloud. "I will never leave it till it is finished.--It may cost a good deal yet; for he is not easily led, that's clear.--Example, example! That has been always wanting. We will accustom his mind to it--break him like a young colt that first flies from the hand, but soon suffers every child to pat him.--Ay, he is in the high road, if he do not take flight and dart off; but surely, in the wide world of accidents, we shall find something, which, improved by skilful management, will keep him here till that same glittering web of golden threads, called love's net, is round him--then let the poor stag struggle, and pant, and toss about, he will not easily break through, and the prize is mine."
His farther thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," he said; and then exclaimed, in surprise, as the very object of his contemplation stood before him, "Why, Algernon, you have become mighty ceremonious."
"Nay," answered Algernon Grey, laughing, "I thought you were not alone; for I heard one voice speaking, at least; and with a gentleman of your pursuits, one can never tell how inopportune a visit may be."
"Pshaw!" cried Lovet; "'tis a bad habit I have from my mother. We rash and thoughtless folks, unlike you calm and cautious ones, cannot keep the secrets of our bosom in the safe casket of the heart. We must speak out our thoughts, whatever they may be; and, if we can find no other man to tell them to, we tell them to ourselves."