"Sir Hugh must indeed not know of this," said Arderne, "at least, not at present; 'twould but revive his grief for Martin's loss. Over a cup of Canary after dinner we will relate the story."
And thus did Walter Arderne become the possessor of many fair domains in Warwickshire and other countries; for as there was none at that time to dispute possession, and as their former possessor was fairly identified, and her death deposed to by more than one of her own followers, so there was nothing to hinder him in the succession.
There was, however, a certain degree at melancholy attached to the whole affair, which seemed to throw a gloom over the estates, as he in turn visited them,—a something wanting—a deserted look—an inexpressible feeling of dislike to assume the mastery and ownership of these fair and fertile lands. "I can even yet hardly reconcile to myself the right of proprietorship here," he said to Sir Hugh, as they looked forth one day from the towers at Hill Morton upon a vast chase below. "It seems to me that I am an interloper—an usurper here."
"Tush—man!" said Sir Hugh; "this is to be overscrupulous. Take the good the gods send, and make no words on't."
And thus matters rested quietly for days, weeks, and months, and then there arose matter which took the thoughts of men, throughout the land, from their own particular concerns, and (whilst the whole nation rang with the news) called up the energies of all.
Sir Hugh was with his nephew and friend when the first intimation of the certainty of this event reached Clopton. The day was hot, for it was just at the end of April, and the knight had ordered the dinner to be served in the hall, where they were enjoying the half hour after their meal "with pippins and cheese" and a whiff or two of the pleasant weed.
The soothing influence of his pipe was just composing the old knight to sleep when the sharp sound of hoofs were heard in the court without, and a messenger, "bloody with sparring, fiery red with haste," came clanking into the presence.
The sealed brief he handed to Sir Hugh—with the words, ride, ride, ride, upon the cover, in a few minutes after its perusal effectually dispelled the influence of the weed Sir Walter loved, inasmuch as it was from Sir Walter himself, and dated from Deptford.
"Come forth, my old friend," said the letter, "the time hath arrived for all to be stirring, 'Tis now certain the Armada is about to sail. Let your nephew look to his command and bring up his companions. Our ships are ready for sea and men are wanted. 'Fore Heaven, we will singe the Dons whiskers for him,[19] or smoke for it ourselves."