Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell - Страница 5
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mellow with the richness of the South. Her English was perhaps slow and
a trifle stilted, but King’s English for all that.
“I was sent by Her Ladyship to ask you, Sir Henry, whether there was
aught you needed before we take our usual walk round the improvements on
the Castle grounds. They await me with the flower baskets upon the
terrace, where the peacocks walk.”
“Then take Doctor Syn with you, child, and become the better
acquainted yourselves, or with Lady Pembury’s help,” replied Sir Henry.
“But is there aught you can do for me, you say? Aye, there is. Two
requests to one man. Summon that rascally old butler of mine and tell
him that Sir Henry would take the physic ordered him by the Doctor
Sennacherib Pepper. It is, tell him, a full flagon of sherry sack, and
in it, my dear young friends, I shall drink to your good healths. I am
sure, too, Senorita, that you will remember enough of our English to
inform him that Doctor Syn, your escort here, is consenting to stay with
us for dinner.”
Doctor Syn bowed his thanks to the Squire of Lympne, saying, “I am
neither impertinent enough nor so stupid as to disobey your orders,
sir.” Then, turning to the girl and offering her his arm, added, “May I
help you, Senorita, to find the butler and deliver Sir Henry’s
commands?”
The young Doc tor, knowing the Castle well, escorted his beautiful
charge on air to the pantries, where he delivered the Squire’s messages.
He then took pains to take a roundabout way to the terrace, finding, to
his great relief, that Lady Pembury and the Spanish widow had left it
solitary but for the peacocks.
Imogene, who, owing to her father’s death and the strangeness of a
foreign land, had been considered reserved and shy, found herself
talking more freely than she had though possible to this young scholar.
And Doctor Syn, who had been so often rallied by his friend Tony for not
attempting a success amongst the ladies, realized that in this young
girl was a cure for all his shyness and aloofness. He knew also that in
her companionship he could be more than comp ensated for the loss of
parents and relatives that had forced his young life into a loneliness
that was unnatural.
Now, like all good Marshmen, Doctor Syn had been bred to understand
their natural enemy, the sea: the sea which angrily waited to destroy
the great
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seawall which kept their pastures safe. He was a fine swimmer, and
knew something of sail, of tides and winds. But he confessed afterwards
to Tony Cobtree that he had never been so proud of his skill in
navigation as he was that morning in successfully avoiding a meeting in
the wide grounds of Lympne with Lady Pembury and the girl’s mother. No
sooner did he descry them in the distance than he tacked away on another
course which kept himself and his consort on a uninterrupted steering.
Therefore, by the time he exchanged greetings with the elder ladies on
their return to the Castle, the two young people had learned a good deal
about each other.
Having spent many happy years at the University, and knowing the
best families in the district, Doctor Syn was naturally interested to
know what house they were visiting in Oxford. The daughter, who spoke
English more fluently than her mother, explained that they were bound to
Iffley, on the outskirts of the town, and were to reside there with the
Squire until such time as certain business connected with her father’s
will could be settled. The Squire’s nephew, on Nicholas Tappitt, had
secured an important position under the British Ambassador at Madrid.
Through some unfair treatment, as the girl pointed out sympathetically,
the young man had lost his post, and having a liking for Spain as well
as for the sea, he had enlisted the influence of Senor Almago, who
provided him with a ship in which to carry his own fruit -produce to
England and the Netherlands. In this way Nicholas, for whom they seemed
to have a liking, was able to remain in Spain in spite of his lost
position. “My dear father believed in Nicholas,” said the girl. “And
whatever the trouble many have been at the Embassy, we w ere all
convinced that Nicholas was not to blame.”
Doctor Syn, knowing something of the said Nicholas, though otherwise,
for this plausible young rascal had been sent down from his college
owing to an unsavory scandal connected with a serving-wrench. H e kept
his opinion, though allowing himself to consider Imogene’s fine sympathy
wasted on such a rapscallion.
Hearing that Doctor Syn was acquainted with Squire Tappitt, the
Spanish ladies pressed him for information concerning him and the Iffley
estate. Here the young Doctor found himself in an awkward dilemma, for
certainly what he knew of the uncle was a good deal more unpalatable
than his knowledge of the nephew, for, known as Bully Tappitt, the
Iffley Squire was shunned by all God -fearing people in the
neighbourhood. Coarse, and brutally strong, with the worst reputation
where women were concerned, he was the last man Doctor Syn would have
wished to play the host towards his new-found friend and already adored
Imogene. So he answered all their questions concerning Iffley and the
Squire as evasively as possible, inwardly rejoicing that he was to be
their escort, and determined that they should transact any necessary
business with the Squire of Iffley from some quiet lodgings in the town,
where he and Tony could keep protective watch.
During dinner, set out on a round table, where Doctor Syn sat between
Lady Pembury and the Spanish girl, the latter talked so much about
Nicholas that the young cleric for the first time in his life suffered
the worst pangs of jealousy. She afforded him the acutest agony as she
recounted the many churches, parties and theatres to which the rascal
has escorted her. She told him how very fond she was of him, how vastly
he amused her with his funny ways, how much she admired his adventurous
spirit in becoming a businessman after his forced failure as a diplomat.
“But I loved him best,” she said—“oh yes, very much indeed—when he
told me he was desperately in love with me, but even better still when
he most solemnly asked me to marry him.”
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With his spirits at the lowest ebb, Doctor Syn managed to ask her, “And
what did you answer?”
“I?” she whispered. “Why, I laughed in his face. I told him that my
very life would be in danger from all the other women he had put the
same question to that very day. And it is true. He has a way with him.
But oh, too reckless! They say that when he goes up to woo a lady in
her drawing-room, he will make proposals to the serving-maid upon the
stairs. He is a rake, m y dear sir.”
“I admit he was when I knew him,” returned Syn. “And so neither of
you took the proposal very seriously, I take it?” he added, with his
heart much lighter.
“He did,” she laughed. “At one time he was so serious in his
protestations that he ran out of our house to the nearest church,
embraced the Catholic Faith, and was surprised that such devotion did
not sway me. But how could I marry a man who would forget the fact
whenever he saw another petticoat in view?”
“Also you would not think of marrying a fool,” whispered Doctor Syn.
“And the man who, having once seen you, could think of another woman
would prove himself the worst of fools, in my thinking.”
“That is very kindly put,” she answered. “But, do you know, I think
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