"—— We rise and set together."
He spoke the last sentence without any reference to the subject which had first suggested the idea; and having in the utterance as much forgotten Violante, as though she had never existed, he put his arm through Louis's, and turned with him out of the room.
"De Montemar," said he, as they crossed the hall; "the conversation which was interrupted this morning, must be finished. I have put a packet open into your hand, which must be sealed this evening; else the vagrant leaves may follow the sybil's trick; and I know nothing of the gatherer, till that doughty Lictor, Jack Ketch, makes me his bow on Tower-Hill." "Surely, my Lord, you cannot doubt my honour, if you could my heart?"
"I will doubt every thing, till that heart is laid open to me.—I vowed to have no disguises with you.—Repay me in kind.—Heart for heart, De Montemar, is the only true exchange!"
Louis did not immediately answer; for he felt what he would not fairly acknowledge to himself, that a mist did sometime appear to rise over this professed frankness of the Duke, which often made it uncertain whether he had really shewn his heart at all.—In the midst of a sentiment that seemed direct from the soul, a sudden quirk of fancy would present itself, that turned all athwart into whim and laughter. And the freest disclosure would as frequently start aside, to appear nothing more than a fantastic figure of speech, or break off into irreconcilable fragments, without apparent aim or connexion. But for all this, an apology came to the breast of his friend. "He has embraced the desperate fortunes of a dethroned prince.—And perhaps it depends upon the caution of this, that prince's ablest confident, whether they are to be redeemed, or finally consigned to despair!"
The horses were at the hall door; and Sir Anthony, and his other male guests, mounted. On sight of the friends, he called to them, and the grooms bringing forward more horses, the Duke vaulted into his seat, and Louis, with a sensation of a double release, gladly followed his example.—As they turned merrily down the rocky path-way which led by the ancient fosse to the open country, every man had something to say according to his own humour, of the pleasures of the preceding night; but all concurred in so overcharging their anticipations of the coming evening, that it was easily to be foreseen the revelry of the past, would be encreased to an excess in the future, which would destroy all, by drowning pleasure and consciousness in the same stream.
Sir Anthony appeared to take it for granted, his nephew had completely surrendered himself to the impulse which governed them all; but with redoubling disgust, Louis tried to make his uncle comprehend, that so far from intending to partake the projected festivity, he would not go back to the castle, but return to Lindisfarne immediately after their ride. Astonishment, remonstrance, raillery, entreaties, reproaches; all were successively and successlessly brought forward: Louis found his spirit rise with the clamour of opposition. He was now steadily doing, what he always knew was his only proper conduct; the padlock which had seemed to chain down his faculties under a sense of committing wrong, now burst asunder, and he was all himself again.—Sir Anthony affected not to believe him serious; talked of Violante, then declared, it was his belief, he only wanted to be forced to do the thing he liked; and whispering the noisy sheriff and others, a loud laugh peeled through the party, and they instantly drew around Louis.
"What do you mean, gentlemen?" cried he, glad to be manually opposed by others beside his uncle.
"To bear you, as the Loves bore Adonis"—cried Wharton gaily, and planting his steed also, before that of his friend.
"Et tu Brute?" cried Louis; and striking his spurs into the sides of his horse, the high mettled animal sprang through the foremost rank, dispersed the rest; and speeding forward with the wings of the wind, was plunged by his determined rider into the receding waters of the tide.