When the old nobleman had heard the story, when he knew that his darling had been found, or the same as found, and he was assured that he should ere long behold her, when it had all been made clear to him, his joy was beyond his power of language to express it.
“Percy! Percy! My noble boy!” he cried, regarding the youth with loving trustful looks, “you must take the lead. You know all about it. You are the man. I am sure Mr. Tisdale will not be offended.”
“Pooh! pooh! Maitland is the man to lead, my lord. We all understand it.”
“Let me give my humble help, as best I can,” said Percy, not at all discomposed by the encomiums thus passed upon him. “Where I can lead, be sure I will; and when I can follow I will do so with all my heart. And now, my lord, how many of your men are we to take with us?”
“Here is Michael. He will muster them. There should be ten, at least.”
“Twelve, my lord, counting me. Of course you’ll let me go.”
“Yes, you may go. Now hurry and collect the men and get out the arms. Oh, do be expeditious!”
Now was the time and the need when our hero showed the quality that was in him. Under his calm, quiet, prompt guidance, with a power of command natural to him, the force of the castle was mustered, armed, and organized in less than twenty minutes, and in half an hour after the arrival of himself and the constable at the castle the party, twenty in number, counting the earl, was ready to set forth.
The appearance of a man in priestly robes, following behind the pirate chief and his comrades, at first struck Cordelia with a paralyzing horror. The significance of the scene was not to be mistaken. It was the voice of Ralph Tryon that roused her to indignation and gave her strength.