The Duchess motioned the dragoman away, and scanned the face of the new-comer shrewdly. Where had she seen this strange-looking English peasant, with the rolling walk of a sailor?
“What is your name, and where do you come from?” she asked, not without anxiety, for there was something ominous and suggestive in the old man’s face.
“I come from Hamley, in England, and my name is Soolsby, your grace. I come to see my Lady Eglington.”
Now she remembered him. She had seen him in Hamley more than once.
“You have come far; have you important news for her ladyship? Is there anything wrong?” she asked with apparent composure, but with heavy premonition.
“Ay, news that counts, I bring,” answered Soolsby, “or I hadn’t come this long way. ‘Tis a long way at sixty-five.”
“Well, yes, at our age it is a long way,” rejoined the Duchess in a friendly voice, suddenly waving away the intervening air of class, for she was half a peasant at heart.
“Ay, and we both come for the same end, I suppose,” Soolsby added; “and a costly business it is. But what matters, so be that you help her ladyship and I help Our Man.”
“And who is ‘Our Man’?” was the rejoinder. “Him that’s coming safe here from the South—David Claridge,” he answered. “Ay, ‘twas the first thing I heard when I landed here, me that he come all these thousand miles to see him, if so be he was alive.” Just then he caught sight of Kate Heaver climbing the stair to the deck where they were. His face flushed; he hurried forward and gripped her by the arm, as her feet touched the upper deck. “Kate-ay, ‘tis Kate!” he cried. Then he let go her arm and caught a hand in both of his and fondled it. “Ay, ay, ‘tis Kate!” “What is it brings you, Soolsby?” Kate asked anxiously.
“‘Tis not Jasper, and ‘tis not the drink-ay, I’ve been sober since, ever since, Kate, lass,” he answered stoutly. “Quick, quick, tell me what it is!” she said, frowning. “You’ve not come here for naught, Soolsby.”