Noting the slight shudder of disgust, which he had caused by so artfully discommending me, he went on—
"In the Netherlands you have pastimes more refined than our English sports. I say 'our,' though I take no pleasure in them."
"It is true you are no hunter, but you are a skilful trapper, my lord: cunning in bait and lure and bird-call," I answered.
One glance at Sheffield's face, white with rage, showed Mistress Goel that more was meant than met the ear. She stepped back nearer to the two old men, who were so deep in some question of learning that they were loth to part, and oblivious of every thing but their disputation.
"You cowardly cur," said Sheffield. "You know that you are safe from horse-whip in this presence."
"Safe from horse-whip anywhere in your hand, unless you had four or five to help you."
Threat and defiance passed in whisper almost, but our looks were fierce enough, as we stood close together, eyes pretty nearly level, for Sheffield had not more than an inch advantage over my five feet ten. He was the first to recover himself, saying—
"Your ill-timed jests would provoke a Stoic."
Then he turned to Doctor Goel, who had suddenly become aware that he detained his lordship and his train unseemlily, and a movement was made. Not until the lady and her father were in the litter, borne on the shoulders of four stout fellows in the Mulgrave livery, and the escort mounted and ready to set off, had I speech with Mistress Goel, and that no more than formal leave-taking, save that when her little hand lay for a moment in my big paw, I touched it lightly with my lips. She withdrew it quickly, but I saw no displeasure in her eyes. Sheffield put his blackamoor in charge of the litter and its attendants, and promising to overtake the party speedily, rode with two of his men in the opposite direction.
Mr. Butharwick and I re-entered the inn, a dull hole now, that had been lately so bright, and called for a cup of wine, which Dame Hind brought us, and, setting hands on hips, gave vent to her feelings.