At all times, and in all circumstances, Van Noost was well pleased to eat and drink. Care, fear, or anxiety never took away his appetite, and he did ample justice to the viands set before him.
A rambling desultory conversation followed; but Richard Newark would not suffer it to fall back into the channels through which it had been previously flowing. He talked of all that had occurred during the insurrection, of his own escapade to the north, and of what he had seen and done while travelling about with the Northumbrian gentlemen; and, though his conversation and his manners were now more like his former self, yet Van Noost could not help being much struck with the great change which had come over him within the last few months. That short period of busy existence--the companionship of men, and the association with superior minds--had effected a remarkable transformation; but the manliness of manner and decision of thought which he had gained could only be attributed to the habit and necessity of acting for himself, and the development, under such necessity, of a character naturally decided, sharp, and fearless, though rather distorted and out of shape.
The time passed pleasantly enough, and, on his departure, Van Noost promised to return. He did not fail to keep his word, but went back more than once, gaining in some degree upon Richard Newark's confidence at each visit, and consulting with him upon what was to be done in the case of the Earl of Eskdale.
The result of these consultations we shall see hereafter; but one thing Van Noost could not comprehend in his companion; namely, the obstinacy with which he refrained from going to see his fair cousin, and from even letting her know that he was in her immediate neighbourhood. The good statuary tried many circuitous ways of arriving at his motives; and, when at length he asked him distinctly, Richard replied, with one of his wild laughs--
"Ay, you could not understand, Van Noost; and, to say truth, I myself do not understand. I have seen birds caught by perching on lime twigs. Things have been put into my head which I wish had never come into it. Besides, I am better where I am. I can do more, devise more, prevent more, when I am working unseen. No, no, it would never do; but I must tell you what, good friend; I must have a little liberty and some fresh air. I must arrange, and trust to my two boys for a day now and then. I am getting ill in this close hole, and my brain begins to spin and whirl round as it used to do at school. Can you not contrive to hire us a couple of horses? for mine I sold when I came to London. We will have a ride, Van Noost--we will have a ride on the north road."
Van Noost readily consented, and it was agreed that the next day, at the hour of noon, he should be with a pair horses in Smithfield, where Richard Newark was to join him.
The young gentleman was on the spot before him, and there was an eagerness and excitement in his look, which the statuary did not understand. Springing on the horse's back, Richard Newark set off at a pace much too fast to be agreeable to his companion. They soon cleared the suburbs of London, however, passing a great number of people on the road, some on horseback and some on foot, who were all tending the same way, though at a more sober pace.
"I wonder what these people are all pouring out of London for," said Van Noost, as they rode along. "There must be some sport going forward."
"Ha! ha! don't you know!" exclaimed Richard, wildly. "They are going to meet the prisoners coming in, and so am I!"
This announcement was not altogether palatable to the good statuary, who felt certain that he should be recognized by some of the prisoners, and be placed in an awkward position. It was not, indeed, that he feared his acquaintance with those who had joined in the insurrection would in any degree endanger his personal safety; and, to do him justice, he would have risked that under any circumstances; but, as it was, he had made a clean breast of it to the Secretary of State, and obtained even more than he could expect, amounting, in fact, to a conditional pardon. The thought, however, of having fled from Preston; of not remaining with Roman courage (which he always had an ambition of displaying, if his constitution would but have let him) to fall with a falling cause, and of having sneaked away in much haste and trepidation at the approach of real danger, made him feel very awkward when he thought of encountering his former companions in rebellion. He explained his feelings to Richard Newark as well as he could, hinting, at the same time, that the young gentleman himself was in a similar situation.