[CHAPTER XIV.]
JERNINGHAM SEES THE WAY TO HIS DESIRE.
"Stands the wind there, boy? Keep them in that key,
The wench is ours before to-morrow day."
—The Merry Devil of Edmonton.
Master Jerningham, upon setting Gregory to dog the steps of Ravenshaw, had made all haste from the Temple Church to Deptford, where he passed the afternoon in busy superintendence, and where he lay that night. But whether at work, or in the vain attitude of sleep, he housed a furnace within him, the signs of which about his haggard eyes were terrible to see, to the experienced observation of Sir Clement Ermsby when that gentleman greeted him upon the deck of the anchored ship in the morning.
"Death of my life, man! thou hast the look of Bedlam in thy face. And thou wert formerly the man of rock! The wench is not to be thine, then?"
"She is, or I am to be the devil's!" replied Jerningham.
"But we sail to-morrow. Or do we not?"
"Ay, we sail to-morrow. Is not the bishop to come and bid us Godspeed, and see us lift anchor? But the maid shall sail with us."