"Nay, then I should be utterly discomfited," said Sir Christopher, laughing; "foundered in good earnest—toe and heel—hip and thigh."
"And such is the condition of Sir Hugh," said Martin, "unless we can give a fresh fillip to his depressed spirits, and teach him to forget his griefs; he will despair, and despairing, die."
"I see the urgency of the matter," said Sir Christopher; "Her Majesty may lose a good blade in the stout knight, were he to die of grief. He hath received wrong, but he shall have speedy redress. Come to me to-morrow, good Martin—early, good Martin—my life upon it, I will in some sort content you."
Accordingly, a few days after Sir Hugh had returned to his desolate home, and when he was beginning, even more than at first, to feel the sense of his utter loneliness, and the heaviness of his irreparable loss, Martin unexpectedly returned, and, full of apparent haste and the urgency and importance of his business, presented a sealed commission from Sir Christopher Hatton.
The good knight was seated in the old oak-panelled room, where we have first introduced him to our readers. His viol-de-gamba was in his hand, and he was listlessly executing an air which was a favourite with his daughter.
Those who have heard the tones of this obsolete instrument will readily remember its silver sweetness—tones which seemed peculiar to the age, floating with a delicious softness through those old apartments, and seeming, as they filled hall and corridor, to die away in echoing vibration; so soothing and so melancholy; so well adapted to soften the poignancy of the old man's grief, that, as he finished the measure, the tears coursed one another down his cheeks. Martin (who had stopped to listen to the strains for a moment) as the old knight laid down his bow, immediately stepped up to him and presented his packet.
The first meeting of the friends, as Martin had surmised, caused considerable emotion to both; but Martin concealed his own feelings under an affectation of despatch, and dashing the tear from his eye, bade the knight peruse the packet with which he had been entrusted, without delay.
"From whom and whence?" said Sir Hugh. "Methinks I had rather defer matters of business till another opportunity. There be many sealed letters I have received the last two days now lying in the hall, and which I have no heart to open or peruse; for what have I to do with affairs of the world? what interest have I in life or its businesses?"
"Nevertheless," said Martin, "this commission must be read, inasmuch as it cometh from one whose behests are to be obeyed. 'Tis from the Queen; and if I mistake not, Her Majesty requires your instant employment in her service. There is work to be done with spur and rapier, and you must undertake it."
"Nay then," said the knight, whose ardour was in a moment aroused at the prospect of military duty, "there never yet was a Clopton found wanting when he should serve his sovereign in the field: mine eyes are somewhat dim, good Martin, peruse the letter, and give me the substance of its contents."