"Once there, I made my way straight back into the country, and was twenty miles inland, when day broke. A stranger, with a broken collar-bone, is fairly well marked, so I avoided habitations and mankind. For three days, I lay concealed in the forest, subsisting on berries and wild fruits; then, I ventured on—and chanced upon a hut, deserted of man, but with a litter of wild pigs as tenants. I remained there for four weeks, living on the pigs, while my shoulder knit. When it was healed, sufficiently not to betray me, I proceeded northward, eventually reaching Frederick. There, I put up at Charlton's tavern and refitted—having abundant money, thanks to you, and the fact that they had not deprived me of my own when captured. That accomplished, I rode here, with my servant, whom I hired in Frederick, to take ship to England. I arrived late this afternoon, to find no ship sailing for ten days."
"Why did you come here, rather than go to Alexandria, or York?" said Parkington. "Was it not a useless risk?"
"My friend," said Brandon, "I have found, in some years of adventuring, that one experiences the least danger where one has reason to anticipate the most. Neither Marbury nor Jamison, I think, is in Annapolis—but, if they were, and ventured to denounce me as Long-Sword, what evidence have they to substantiate their claim? Their word, only. Against it, is your knowledge that I am Sir Charles Brandon, and my papers, which are regular."
"But if I had not been here?"
"I had but to demand that I be brought before you—I knew you were somewhere within distance. Oh, it was decidedly safest for me, here. Besides, I wanted to see Annapolis.—De Lysle, why not come back with me? The Marbury girl is not for you——"
"She is not?"
"No—and you are not for her. The son of the Earl of Doncaster does not mate with a Colonist. It may seem pleasant enough, now, in the warm weather, with the country life we all love then. But wait till London and its charms begin to call."
"You do not know all," was the answer. "I am a fugitive from justice—two felonies were overlooked; the third was the breaking straw, and the Earl disowned me," and he told the story.
"Bosh!" said Brandon, at the end. "You were angry—the Earl was angry, (and, properly, so) and the ship sailed before he cooled, or you had time to show repentance. Come home with me. It is the easiest way, all around. Stay here, and, sooner or later, the real Parkington will arise from his grave to plague you. You cannot explain—no explanation, with a dead man and a grave in it, will be accepted. The story will not down—and even though you do marry Miss Marbury, and she knows the truth, she will always doubt you. For my part, I fail to see how you are to shift names, and hope to stay in Maryland. To my mind, you must masquerade always, or move on. So, why not move on—to England? Your sire's anger will have had time to cool. You throw yourself on his mercy—promise to sin no more. And, behold! the returned prodigal and the fatted calf!"