“I’ll march in and take possession of that cursed den that my boy here tried to take, and failed,” raged out Sir Edward. “Mark, we can do nothing here. Off with you, and muster every man we have. I can’t show mercy now. Tell Daniel Rugg to get ready an ample supply of powder and fuses, and I’ll blow up the hornets’ nest, and let them stifle where they lie. Rayburn, you’ll stay with this poor lad; and Heaven help you to save his life.”
“Amen,” said Master Rayburn softly.
“His father—his sister—carried off by these demons,” muttered Sir Edward, and seizing his son’s arm, he hurried with him to give his orders himself.
Mark Eden followed his father, feeling half stunned. The one thought which seemed to stand out clear above a tangle of others, all blurred and muddled, in his brain, was that these troubles—the attack on the Black Tor, and the hundred times more terrible one upon Cliff Castle—were caused by him. Certainty Ralph Darley had something to do with it, but he was badly wounded and out of the question now, so that he, Mark Eden, must take all the blame.
Then, too, he could not understand his own acts. It all seemed so absurd, just such a confused sequence of events as would take place in a dream, for him to be listening to Ralph’s appeal for help, and to begin pitying him, his natural enemy, feeling toward him as if he were his dearest friend; and then, with his heart burning with rage against those who had injured him and his, to follow his father, panting to get ready an expedition whose object was to drive Captain Purlrose and his murderous, thieving crew off the face of the earth.
That was not the greatest puzzle which helped to confuse Mark Eden, for there was his father’s conduct, so directly opposed to everything which had gone before; but at last, after fighting with his confusion for some time, his head grew clearer, and he drew a long deep breath.
“I know how it is,” he said to himself, with a curious smile, mingled of pleasure and pain; “the old trouble’s dead. This business has killed it, and I’m jolly glad.”
“Mark, boy,” said his father just then, and it seemed to the lad that his father must have been thinking and feeling in a similar way, “I daresay you think my conduct strange, after all the teachings of the past, but nature is sometimes stronger than education, and after what has taken place we must, as English gentlemen, forget all old enmity, and behave toward the Darleys as—as—as—”
“I’m sure Ralph and his father would have behaved towards us, if we had been in such a terrible state.”
“Yes, my boy—thank you—exactly,” cried Sir Edward, with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you would think it half mad and strange of me to be doing this, when—when you see we could go over and take possession of the Darley’s place, and hold it for our own.”