"Buried alive!" iterated Grasp, as he watched his auditors with the utmost satisfaction and curiosity. "I conceive it is no libel to say so much, inasmuch as it is well known, and has indeed made some talk at the time."
"I pray you," said Arderne sternly, "to continue your relation, without further circumstance. You pain us all by such unnecessary particulars."
"Nay," said Grasp, "I crave pardon; but as the particularly horrible nature of that young lady's end was in some sort necessary to what follows, I felt obliged, in some sort, to refer to it. Howbeit, I will now expedite my narrative, taking it from the events I have thus brought back to your remembrance. It seems, I say, that the particularly awful nature of the said Miss Charlotte Clopton's death made a great impression upon the mind of the before-named Lady Clara de Mowbray, and whose intimate friend the before-mentioned Charlotte was; and that moreover the said Clara de Mowbray mourned over her said friend's sad fate with strict observance of privacy for many months. Nay, that on the news first being told her of Mistress Charlotte's having been buried, she, in fact, shut herself up from all communion with the world."
"We heard as much," said Arderne; "I pray you to proceed. She resided at Shottery Hall at that time I think?"
"She did so," continued Grasp, "and where, somewhat on the sudden (as I learn from her confidential servant,—also my client,) she conceived the idea of changing the current of her thoughts and ameliorating her grief by seeing foreign lands. In pursuance of which design she fitted out a vessel, hired a crew, engaged a gentleman of approved valour as captain, and sailed for the New World."
"How! said ye," exclaimed Captain Fluellyn, "fitted out a ship, engaged a crew and captain, and adventured to the New World?"
"What ship did she sail in, Master Lawyer Rasp?"
"Grasp, good sir, and it so please ye," said the lawyer.
"What ship, quotha—let me see. I have a document here, signed by one of her followers, and which states the name of the ship, the number of her crew, the title of the said captain, and all thereunto appertaining and belonging. Ah! let me see," he continued, (fumbling about amongst his papers.) "the 'Eagle'—the 'Estridge'—the 'Heron'—the 'Hawk'—no, it was none of those. The—ah! here it is—the 'Falcon,' that was the vessel; Fluellyn, captain commanding; owner, Count Falconara."
The Captain looked at Walter Arderne, in whose face was reflected the astonishment depicted in his own; and both, as if by common impulse, rose from their seats, and walked forth into the open air.