Volume Two—Chapter Three.
If do eye beheld the meeting between Marion Wade and Henry Holtspur, there was one that witnessed their parting with a glance that betokened pain. It was the eye of Richard Scarthe.
On leaving the dinner table, some details of military duty had occupied the cuirassier captain for an hour or two; after which, having no further occupation for the evening, he resolved to seek an interview with the ladies of the house—more especially with her who, in the short space of a single day, had kindled within him a passion that, honourable or not, was at least ardent.
He was already as much in love with the lady, as it was possible for such a nature to be. A month in her company could not have more completely enamoured him. Her cold reception of his complimentary phrases—as yet only offered to her with the insinuating delicacy of an experienced seducer—instead of chilling his incipient desires, had only served to add fuel to the flame. He was too well exercised in conquering the scruples of maiden modesty, to feel despair at such primary repulses.
“I shall win her!” in spite of this monosyllabic indifference! muttered he to Stubbs, as they returned to their sitting-room. “Pshaw! ’tis only pretence before strangers! By my troth, I like this sort of a beginning. I’m fashed of facile conquests. This promises to be a little difficult; and will enable me to kill the ennui, which otherwise might have killed me in these rural quarters. I shall win her, as I have won others—as I should Lucretia herself, had she lived in our time.”
To this triumphant boast, his satellite spoke assent, in his characteristic fashion.
“Safe to do it, by Ged!” said he, as if convinced of the invincibility of one, who more than once had spoiled his own chances in the game of love-making.
Scarthe was determined to let but little time elapse before entering upon his amour. His passion prompted him to immediate action; and the first step was to seek an interview with the woman he had resolved upon winning.
It was one thing, however, to desire an interview with the daughter of Sir Marmaduke Wade—another to obtain it. The cuirassier captain was not in the position to demand, or even seek it by request. Any attempt on his part to force such an event might end in discomfiture: for although he could compel Sir Marmaduke to find bed, board, and forage for himself and his troopers, the tyranny of the King did not—or rather dared not—extend so far as to violate the sanctity of a gentleman’s family. That of his household had been sufficiently outraged by the act of benevolence itself.