Sir Francis Drake had apparently paid but slight attention to the entrance of Jasper Oglander and his son Philip, but had remained at the table cracking nuts. He had cracked about a dozen of them and cleared the kernels of all remnants of shell and rough skin, and now he gathered them in his hand and rose, beckoning to Drusilla.
"These be for you, sweetheart," said he as he offered them to her. "And now I must hie me back to Plymouth. Wilt kiss me?"
She held up her face, and he put his two hands upon her shoulders and held her from him at the full length of his strong arms. Then he bent down and pressed his lips upon her white forehead. "Give you good-night," he added, "and God be with you always!"
"Good-night!" she answered, and her eyes followed him as he went away, limping slightly in his walk. She saw him stop suddenly as he came near to where her grandfather and Jasper Oglander were still standing. He drew back a step, looking up into Jasper's face, and, as it seemed, fixing his gaze upon the old wound on the man's cheek.
"'Sdeath! Captain Drake, you here?" cried Jasper Oglander in a tone of astonishment and no less of annoyance. "Art thou a wizard?" And he hesitatingly held out his hand.
Drake affected not to notice this offer of friendship, but stood unmoved, his round head with its short curly brown hair held proudly back, his great broad chest expanded, and his muscular figure poised with easy grace. Compared with the tall man in front of him he seemed to be of very low stature; but there was a dignity about him which the other entirely lacked.
"A wizard?" he repeated. Then shrugging his shoulders he added: "That is as it may be. But I thank God in that I am at least an honest Englishman, who hath no cause to go skulking about the world as thou hast been doing, Master Oglander." He turned to Lord Champernoun. "Give you good-night, my lord!" he said as they shook hands, and then he went round for his cape and hat, which were hanging up near the fireplace, where Sir Walter Raleigh and some others were already regaling themselves amid a cloud of tobacco smoke.
Lord Champernoun had bidden his new-found son and Philip Oglander sit down at the table and take some supper. Meat and drink had been brought in for them, and they were eating with an appetite which betrayed that they had long been unaccustomed to such goodly fare.