“You have indeed acquitted these obligations rarely,” said Everard, “Who knows how this affair shall be explained and answered?”
“I will answer it with my life,” said Wildrake.
“Good now, be silent,” said Tomkins, “and let me manage. It shall be so ordered that the good General shall never know that he hath encountered with a mortal man; only let that man of Moab put his sword into the scabbard’s rest, and be still.”
“Wildrake, let me entreat thee to sheathe thy sword,” said Everard, “else, on my life, thou must turn it against me.”
“No, ’fore George, not so mad as that neither, but I’ll have another day with him.”
“Thou, another day!” exclaimed Harrison, whose eye had still remained fixed on the spot where he found such palpable resistance. “Yes, I know thee well; day by day, week by week, thou makest the same idle request, for thou knowest that my heart quivers at thy voice. But my hand trembles not when opposed to thine—the spirit is willing to the combat, if the flesh be weak when opposed to that which is not of the flesh.”
“Now, peace all, for Heaven’s sake,”—said the steward Tomkins; then added, addressing his master, “there is no one here, if it please your Excellency, but Tomkins and the worthy Colonel Everard.”
General Harrison, as sometimes happens in cases of partial insanity, (that is, supposing his to have been a case of mental delusion,) though firmly and entirely persuaded of the truth of his own visions, yet was not willing to speak on the subject to those who, he knew, would regard them as imaginary. Upon this occasion, he assumed the appearance of perfect ease and composure, after the violent agitation he had just manifested, in a manner which showed how anxious he was to disguise his real feelings from Everard, whom he considered so unlikely to participate in them.
He saluted the Colonel with profound ceremony, and talked of the fineness of the evening, which had summoned him forth of the Lodge, to take a turn in the Park, and enjoy the favourable weather. He then took Everard by the arm, and walked back with him towards the Lodge, Wildrake and Tomkins following close behind and leading the horses. Everard, desirous to gain some light on these mysterious incidents, endeavoured to come on the subject more than once, by a mode of interrogation, which Harrison (for madmen are very often unwilling to enter on the subject of their mental delusion) parried with some skill, or addressed himself for aid to his steward Tomkins, who was in the habit of being voucher for his master upon all occasions, which led to Desborough’s ingenious nickname of Fibbet.
“And wherefore had you your sword drawn, my worthy General,” said Everard, “when you were only on an evening walk of pleasure?”