On the morrow I appeared at breakfast in silken stockings, new doublet and hose, new shoes, with roses and strings of the latest fashion, Flemish ruff and cuffs, and cloak of tawny velvet. My man, Luke Barnby, stared at my gaudy apparel; and, when I bade him have Trueboy and the old, white mare at the door within half an hour, and to bring me my Milanese rapier, he answered surlily—
"Which 'tis the first time I've heard of otter-hunting with swords, or in Sunday clothes."
I had clean forgotten the big otter hunt! This spring the otters were more numerous than any man remembered them, and they were making havoc among the salmon in Trent. This was the day appointed for the meet at Temple Belwood, when all Belton and Beltoft were to assemble and make a great riddance of the vermin. And I, the host and master of the hunt, had clean forgotten the business! To fail to be at my post would raise an outcry among our neighbours, and might bring me severe censure from my father, but to postpone the visit to Doctor and Mistress Goel was not to be thought of. I had my doubts whether the young lady could be removed so soon as Sheffield had threatened; but there was a chance that it might happen, and then farewell to the hope of seeing her for Heaven only knew how long. That was unendurable, so I wrote a few lines to a neighbour, begging him to assume my place, and not to spare the Temple ale or wine-cellar.
"Hark ye, Luke," said I; "put this into the hands of Squire Mell, of Beltoft, with haste. Mr. Butharwick and I have pressing business at Crowle."
When Mr. Butharwick and I sat down to breakfast, he to his usual mess of hot barley-water, sweetened with sugar and thickened with bread—he having no stomach of a morning for steak and ale, and marrow-pudding he abhorred—I saw that he had something on his mind, and was in no such jovial humour as last evening, when he had been joyous in prospect of meeting a scholar and a friend of his idolized Grotius. At last he broke silence with—
"Frank, it will be wise to defer this visit to Crowle. The town is ruled by Scorpio, and in thy horoscope Scorpio was occupied by Mars in affliction. To-day a malefic is transiting the place of Mars."
"Terms of art are thrown away on me," I answered. "Who should know that so well as you?"
"Crowle is always unlucky for you," said Mr. Butharwick.
"Truly, my horse once fell there, and once I came to disgrace for snoring under a sermon by Uncle Graves; but other mischance I cannot remember. Yet I have gone thither—how many? say, a thousand times."
"Do not jest with the Heavens, boy," said Mr. Butharwick, sternly.