“No, my lord,” returned the domestic, “the Colonel came by the old garden staircase.”
“I judged as much,” replied the Duke; “‘tis an owl that will not take wing in daylight, when there is a thicket left to skulk under. Here he comes from threading lane, vault, and ruinous alley, very near ominous a creature as the fowl of ill augury which he resembles.”
The Colonel, to whom no other appellation seemed to be given, than that which belonged to his military station, now entered the apartment. He was tall, strongly built, and past the middle period of life, and his countenance, but for the heavy cloud which dwelt upon it, might have been pronounced a handsome one. While the Duke spoke to him, either from humility or some other cause, his large serious eye was cast down upon the ground; but he raised it when he answered, with a keen look of earnest observation. His dress was very plain, and more allied to that of the Puritans than of the Cavaliers of the time; a shadowy black hat, like the Spanish sombrero; a large black mantle or cloak, and a long rapier, gave him something the air of a Castilione, to which his gravity and stiffness of demeanour added considerable strength.
“Well, Colonel,” said the Duke, “we have been long strangers—how have matters gone with you?”
“As with other men of action in quiet times,” answered the colonel, “or as a good war-caper[*] that lies high and dry in a muddy creek, till seams and planks are rent and riven.”
[*] A privateer.
“Well, Colonel,” said the Duke, “I have used your valour before now, and I may again; so that I shall speedily see that the vessel is careened, and undergoes a thorough repair.”
“I conjecture, then,” said the Colonel, “that your Grace has some voyage in hand?”
“No, but there is one which I want to interrupt,” replied the Duke.
“Tis but another stave of the same tune.—Well, my lord, I listen,” answered the stranger.