Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell - Страница 7
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him.”
“I hope we may be, sir,” replied Doctor Syn. “For my part, I shall
depart from the usual custom of my cloth and buckle on my father’s
sword.”
“But however brave your steel,” cautioned Sir Henry, “see that it is
tempered with good caution, for to make enmity with a noted duelist is
no light undertaking.”
“At the worst, sir, I should not be unprepared,” replied the Doctor,
“for since taking orders I have never given up the practice of many
accomplishments. In riding, fence and marksmanship I have been in
continual training, and with right upon my side and a reasonable amount
of luck, backed by mine own skill, I have yet to meet a man whom in a
righteous quarrel I should avoid.”
“And since Christ in Holy Writ that He brought a sword to the Earth,
I fail to see why His own parsons should be scorned to be skilled in
‘em,” said the Squire of Lympne solemnly.
After which understanding between these two gentlemen, Doctor Syn
went to join the ladies.
And long after the Squire of Lympne had despatched his rider with the
letter for Sir Charles Cobtree upon Romney Marsh, the early night stars
played their romantic parts upon the terrace of the Castle, so that when
a last good-nights were said in the corridors of Lympne, Doctor Syn was
confident that his authority with the Spanish ladies went a little
further than mere escort, for Imogene gave him cause to believe that
their families were almost united. Certain it was that Doctor Syn
desired no better.
The n ext day the faithful coachman to Sir Henry reported to his
master that the expedition to Dymchurch-under-the-Wall was a great
success. His “Everything -seems-very-promising-your-Honour” was
optimistic news to Sir Henry, and it did the coachman no harm in
reporting it, for Sir Henry, despite his gout, was still romantically
inclined, and happened to be fond of both his young Spanish guest and
the brilliant nephew of his own attorney Solomon Syn.
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Imogene loved Dymchurch, and all the good folks she met there. Sir
Charles Cobtree went out of his way to make the place seem attractive to
her.
“Persuade young Christopher to marry, my dear, and then tell him to
leave Oxford and retire here as our Vicar. The people need a married
parson here. Our pr esent incumbent wishes to retire. Well, he is old,
I’ll admit. But I’ve badgered the old fellow to stay on till my good
young friend is ready to take his place. Let him bring Dymchurch a
Vicar’s wife, and the living’s his.”
“I love it all, my Christopher,” she whispered on the ride back to
Lympne beneath the stars, “But oh, my dear, your little churches, and
your great ones too, of the Protestant Faith are so very plain and dull
compared with the glories of ours. But I love you, dear. Yes, I put
you before religion.”
“But could you change your faith for mine?” asked the parson.
“Oh, but I could do more for you than ever the stupid poor dear
headstrong Nicholas did for me,” she answered. “If he could change his
faith for mine because of love, cannot my love
make me change mine too, because I happen so to think of you? My church
is now you, and my faith and ritual is my love for you. Do you love me
as well?”
“I think I would give up all for you,” he answered. “But you could
never ask me to give up faith and honour. You also could never give up
honour, and I do not ask you to give up your own country’s faith.”
“But I shall, and of my own free will; and yes, because of you. But
you must still allow me to think that the churches of the Pr otestants
are, oh, so dull!”
“Your presence in them will make them the more lively,” he smiles
back.
But that speech of hers he was destined to remember through the
twenty years’ Odyssey of bitterness.
However, there was no thought of bitterness d uring the blessed week,
so skillfully prepared by the Squire of Lympne, and certainly no
bitterness in that long ride beside the coach to Oxford. A face at the
coach window. A beloved rider outside. A loyal companion in the
handsome Tony Cobtree, who lingered for his friend’s sake, although so
impatient to reach their goal for his own ends. A long, romantic
journey, and no mishap to mar it. But everything to make it wonderful.
Romance and Love. Until at last Doctor Syn rides out to Iffley to inform
the Squire that his betrothed, one Imogene Almago, and her mother are
awaiting to receive him in their lodgings at Oxford, and that their
attorney will be there at his convenience any morning to discuss
business.
Chapter 3
Doctor Syn Escapes
The large mansion at Iffley stood in its town distinctive grounds,
and was hidden by trees. A high wall ran round three sides, and the
river completed the circle of defense upon the fourth.
Doctor Syn rode to the Lodge gates, and without dismounting rang the
bell. A forbidding-looking man-servant came out from the Lodge and asked
him his business. He opened one side of the great gates with an ill
grace, and Doctor Syn noted that he looked it again directly he has
passed through.
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Now, it so happened that the Squire of Iffley had heard that Doctor
Syn had forbidden his pupils to play cards or dice, and as this had been
one of the Bully’s sources of income, he was enraged to see the cause of
his disappointment riding up the drive.
Bully Tappitt did not wait for his servant to open the front door.
He opened it himself, and, grabbing a heavy whip from a handy peg,
strode out in a fine rage on to the porch steps.
“And what the devil brings you here?” he asked brusquely. “I thought
you had warned your companions against visiting me. However, if you are
here to play behind their backs, I am your man, with cards or dice in
secret.”
“I am not here for gaming, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, without
dismounting. “I bring you a message from a lady.”
“The devil you do,” laughed the Squire. “Come in your official
position as a parson, no doubt. Well, understand that I am not paying
compensation to any woman who has had the privilege of my attentions.”
“There is no question of attentions in this case, sir,” replied
Doctor Syn coldly. “You have not had the honour of meeting the lady in
question, and she will only extend you that honour in the presence of
myself and her English legal adviser, Mr. Antony Cobtree. She will
receive you at White Friars House, St. Giles’, tomorrow at noon, if you
desire to interview her concerning your nephew’s affairs in Spain.”
“Are you talking of the Almago women from Madrid?” asked Tappitt.
“I have the honour to be speaking on behalf of the Senora Almago,
sir.”
“Are they in Oxford, then?” he demanded.
“They are, sir,” went on Syn. “I myself have lodged them with the
good woman who lets the apartments I named.”
“But they were to come here. What the devil!” exploded the Squire.
“Why are they not here? I invited them.”
“Pardon me, sir. The invitation was null and void, and under the
circumstances demanded no reply.” Doctor Syn spoke quietly, but with a
cold disdain. “The letter did not come from you. It came, in fact, from
nobody, for, as I pointed out to my good friends at Lampne Castle, and
have since confirmed it, there is no such person as Elinor Tappitt, wife
to the Squire of Iffley. You are a bachelor.”
“And who are you to interfere with my schemes —” started the Squire.
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