“Crambo!” exclaimed he, giving utterance to his favourite shibboleth; “say he should come an hour after sunrise—at least another we should be in getting to Mount Welcome. Por Dios! it may be too late then! Who knows what time the Custos may fancy to set out?” he added, after a pause; “I did not think of that. How stupid of me not to have asked Yola!
“Crambo!” he again exclaimed, after another interval passed in silent reflection. “It won’t do to leave things to chance, where a man’s life is in danger. Who knows what scheme these John Crows have contrived? I couldn’t hear the whole of their palaver. If Master Vaughan was only here, we might go to Mount Welcome at once. Whatever quarrel he may have with the uncle, he won’t wish to let him be murdered—no likelihood of that. Besides, the young fellow’s interference in this matter, if I mistake not, would be likely to make all right between them—I’d like that, both for his sake and hers—ah! hers especially, after what Yola’s told me. Santa Virgen! wouldn’t that be a disappointment to the old dog of a Jew! Never mind! I’ll put a spark in his powder before he’s many days older! The young Englishman must know all. I’ll tell him all; and after that, if he consents to become the son-in-law of Jacob Jessuron, he would deserve a dog’s—. Bah! it cannot be! I won’t believe it till he tells me so himself; and then—.
“Por Dios!” exclaimed he, suddenly interrupting the above train of reflections and passing to another. “It won’t do for me to stay here till he comes. Two hours after sunrise, and the Custos might be cold. I’ll go down to the Jew’s penn at once, and hang about till I see young Vaughan. He’ll be stirring about daybreak, and that’ll save an hour, anyhow. A word with him, and we can soon cross to Mount Welcome.”
In obedience to the thought, and without staying to complete the drying of his habiliments, the Maroon stepped out from the glade; and turning into the track—little used—that led towards the Happy Valley, proceeded in that direction.
Volume Two—Chapter Thirty Four.
A Dark Compact.
On closing so abruptly the stormy dialogue with his daughter, Jessuron proceeded to his own sleeping apartment—like the others, opening upon the verandah.
Before entering the room, he glanced along the gallery, towards the suspended hammock.