"No, sir, I believe you have little reason to love him any more than other people—"
"Byles," interrupted Calverley, speaking rapidly, "you are poor—you are in arrear with your rent; a distress will be levied, and then what will become of you—of your wife and the little one? Listen to me! I will give you money to keep a house over your head; and when I am steward, you shall have the first farm at my lord's disposal, if you will only aid me in my revenge! Revenge!" he repeated, vehemently—"but you hesitate—you refuse."
"Nay, nay, squire, I don't refuse: your offer is too tempting for a man in my situation to refuse; but you know—"
"Well," interrupted Calverley, with a contemptuous smile—"well, well, Byles, I see you prefer a jail for yourself, and beggary and starvation for your wife and child. Aye—perhaps to ask bread from Stephen Holgrave."
"Ask bread from him!—of the man who crows over us all, and who has told my lord that I am a liar! No, no, I would sooner die first. I thank you for your kindness, Master Calverley, and I will do any thing short of——"
"Oh, you need not pause," interrupted Calverley, "I do not want you to do him any bodily harm."
"Don't you?—oh! well, then, John Byles is yours," said he, with a brightening countenance: "for you see I don't mind saying any thing against such a fellow as he."
"Yes, Byles, and especially since you will not be asked to say it for nothing," returned Calverley with a slight sarcastic smile; but immediately assuming a more earnest and friendly tone, he continued, "I have promised you gold, and gold you shall have. I will befriend you to the utmost of my power, and you know my influence is not small at the castle; but you must swear to be faithful. Here," said he, stooping down and taking up a rotten branch that lay at his feet, and, breaking it in two, he placed it in the form of a cross. "Here, Byles, swear by this cross to be faithful." Byles hesitated for an instant, and then, in rather a tremulous voice, swore to earn faithfully his wages of sin.
It was nearly four months subsequent to the departure of De Boteler from the castle, ere Byles proceeded to earn the gold which had, in some measure, set him to rights with the world. It was about the middle of March;—the morning had risen gloomily, and, from a dense mass of clouds, a slow heavy rain continued to pour during the whole of the day. "Sam," said Byles to a servitor, a faithful stupid creature, with just sufficient intellect to comprehend and obey the commands of his master.—"Sam, if this rain continues we must go to work to-night?"
The rain did continue, and, after Byles had supped, he sat at the fire for two or three hours, and scarcely spoke. His countenance was troubled;—the deed he had promised to do—which he had contemplated with almost indifference, was now about to be accomplished; and he felt how different it is to dwell upon the commission of a thing, and actually to do it. Frequent draughts of ale, however, in some measure restored the tone of his nerves; and, as the evening wore away, he rose from the fire, and, opening the door, looked out at the weather. A thick drizzling rain still fell; the moon was at the full; and though the heavy clouds precluded the possibility of her gladdening the earth, yet even the heavy clouds could not entirely obscure her light;—there was a radiance spread over the heavens which, though wanting the brightness of moonlight, was nevertheless equal and shadowless.