"One was nearly as tall as myself; and it struck me that I had seen him somewhere before--perhaps in France or Spain; but he was cleverly disguised, his hair or a wig brought far over his face, and an enormous cravat tied in front. He will not be able to disguise himself so easily again, I think; for, though I only contrived to reach him with the point of my sword, it scored his forehead pretty deeply, as I felt it grate upon the bone."
Emmeline gave a slight shudder; and Smeaton added:
"Pardon me, dear lady, for speaking of such horrible subjects; but what I did, depend upon it, was necessary; for they seemed two desperate ruffians, determined not to give up their object without bloodshed. I trust they will never repeat the attempt."
"I think they will not," replied Sir John Newark, musing. "They have had a lesson. But they must have been well informed; for, if the fishermen had been at home, they would not have dared to land. All the men have gone round the point, however; and the wind would not serve to bring them back speedily, even if the appearance of a strange vessel had excited suspicion. I heard of her coming upon the coast this morning, when I was ten or twelve miles distant; and I hastened back with all speed."
"Then had you any cause for alarm?" asked Smeaton.
"Oh, no, not particularly," replied Sir John, with a certain degree of embarrassment; and then immediately added--"But let me show you the apartments prepared for you, Colonel Smeaton. Everything is ready, I know, though, fearful of any disappointment, I would not give my fair ward the hope of a great pleasure of which she might be deprived."
With this courteous speech, he led the way out of the room, leaving Emmeline musing, and not altogether satisfied.
There is a feature in insincerity which always betrays itself. I know not well in what it lies, this error of demeanour, which shows us that there is something very different flowing on under an apparently calm and clear stream of conversation. But so it has ever been; and it is hardly possible to deceive any one well practised in the world's ways, as to the ingenuousness or disingenuousness of the persons with whom he is brought into contact. The object may not be discerned; the thoughts, the passions, the motives, the wishes, the plans, may all remain hidden; but what we see is that the surface and the depth are different.
In the present instance, however, I must add, for the reader's information, that, in many respects, Sir John Newark's words and demeanour towards Smeaton were sincere. He was truly glad to see him at Ale Manor; he was unaffectedly grateful to him both for delivering Emmeline and for defending his son; he was really anxious, also, that he should remain for some time at Ale Manor. But yet a good deal was concealed; and Smeaton, perceiving this last fact, doubted, in some degree, all the rest. At all events, he said to himself,
"That is not a sincere man. It is clear that what the people in London told me of him is true."