“I came into your house on a mission of friendliness and mercy,” said Lord Dunseveric. “I have been met with insults and lies, lies known to be lies to you who speak them. I go, and I pray that we shall meet no more until the day when, in the light of God’s judgment, you will be able to see what is in my heart and understand what is in your own.”
“Amen,” said Micah Ward, “I bide the test.”
Lord Dunseveric bowed and walked to the door of the room. Then he paused, turned, and held out his hand to Neal.
“You will stay with your father, Neal,” he said. “I do not deny that you are right, but I will not part from you in unfriendliness. God keep you, boy, and remember, for old time’s sake, for the sake of the days when you stood by my knee with my own children, you have always—whatever happens—always a friend in me.”
Neal’s eyes filled with tears. He could not speak. He carried Lord Dunseveric’s hand to his lips, and then let it go reluctantly. He heard the door shut, the trampling of the horse’s hoofs on the gravel outside. Then, with a sudden sob, which he could not repress, went across the room and sat down beside his father.
Donald alone remained cheerful and unimpressed.
“I know that kind of man,” he said. “A fine kind it is. We had some of the same sort in America. They crossed the border afterwards to Canada. I suppose you mean to ship your aristocracy to England, Micah? From all I hear they like lords over there. But now to work. We can’t afford to sit still while Master James Finlay is loose about the country with your letters in his pocket. We must get on his trail, Neal, you and I. We must hinder him from doing more mischief. The first thing we want is horses. Micah, where are we to get horses—two strong nags, fit for the road?”
Micah Ward sat silent and absorbed. His eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him. His lips moved, as if he were speaking, but no sound passed them. His hands on the table in front of him twitched. He was a prey to some violent emotion. Donald called him again, and again failed to arouse his attention. Then he turned to Neal.
“There’s no use in trying to rouse your father, Neal. He will not hear us. Do you know anyone who will sell or hire us horses?”
“Rab MacClure has horses,” said Neal. “He has two, I know. He lives not far from this, about a mile along the road towards Ballintoy.”