The Knight of the Golden Melice Part 8

"I must perforce, then, be content," said Philip, "since it may not be otherwise; and the less unwillingly because having had some experience in the nature of women, I know they mean more than they say. So I will even translate thy words into thy mistress' intention, and say she is dying of melancholy till she sees him."

"Thou wilt be a false varlet an' thou dost, and I will never trust thee with message more. Such leasing will only harm thee, for Master Miles knows there is not in America nor in dear old Devons.h.i.+re a modester or properer young lady. O dear, how glad I should be just to step into the grand cathedral in sweet Exeter, and see the brave knights who died so long ago all lying cross-legged, so decent on their marble tombs by the sides of their ladies."

"Take care, my little Puritan," said Philip, "this is no fitting country for such talk. The reverend elders have long ears, and for aught I know, there may be one in the tree overhead listening."

Prudence jumped hastily from her seat, and cast a frightened glance at these words into the tree, while Philip burst into a laugh.

"Why, how you scared me," said the girl, recovering from her trepidation. "This is the way you treat me, you vile man, for putting myself to all this trouble on your account. But I would have you to know that I am no more a Puritan, Philip Joy, than thyself, if I do wear a close-fitting cap, which is none of the most becoming either.

If I do give into their ways, it is for the sake of my mistress, whom no Geneva cloak, nor bishop's sleeves, for that matter, shall make me desert."

"Bravo, bravissimo, as the outlandish fellows say," exclaimed the soldier; "thou art of the genuine game breed, Prudence, and were it not that thy pretty person might come to harm, I would desire no better front rank man than thee. But this is a dangerous litany, and I beseech thee, dear Prudence, to remember how thou art named."

He said this in a tone of emotion, which, if anything were wanting, would have been sufficient to convince the girl of the interest he felt for her; but she needed no such supplementary proof. It had the effect, however, of making the conversation a.s.sume a more serious aspect, and the girl more gravely replied:

"I will be careful, Philip, for my mistress' sake and mine own, and--"

"And for mine, too," interrupted the soldier.

"And for the sake of all them," continued Prudence, "who find anything in me to take an interest in. O, Philip, I tremble lest you should do or say something again that these dreadful solemn folk, who look sour enough to curdle milk, and hate you because you laugh, may get hold of to do you an injury. O, Philip, pray be prudent about laughing."

"Nay, Prudence," said he, drawing his ill.u.s.tration from what he happened to see at the moment, "you might as well bid yon squirrel not to jump from bough to bough. It is our nature, and you cannot change a squirrel into an owl, or a man into a block. But," he continued, taking her hand, "I have not told thee all. I know not when I shall see thee again, for I am a banished man."

"Banished!" repeated Prudence, turning pale; "I thought they had already wronged thee enough for a few innocent words--and now banished! What will become of thee, Philip, and of me?"

"Never fear, sweetheart; we will turn their flank yet. I have been thinking, as I came wandering along, that this Master Spikeman, who keeps mistress Eveline as a sort of prisoner on parole, has an object in getting me out of his way, so as better to carry on his wicked plans. My jealous pate at first could think only of thee; but now I begin to fancy he may have designs upon pretty mistress Eveline as well as upon thyself. Nay, never bite your sweet lips till they bleed, nor dart the sparks out of thine eyes, or you may singe my doublet, I do suspect this from the equal desire he hath shown to remove Master Miles Arundel from the colony. He did threaten him, as I have heard, with some law they have here forbidding a man to pay his court to a maid without license from the wors.h.i.+pful magistrates."

"Did ever mortal hear the like!" exclaimed Prudence. "O, the weary magistrates and elders! what is the world coming to?"

"To nothing but Indians in these parts, if they go on in this way, and not let young folk court, unless they keep sending people from England to replenish the stock, and they will get tired of coming when they hear how things are going on. But, Prudence, banish or no banish, law or no law, they shall not, if thou art agreed, prevent my seeing thee."

The girl looked affectionately at her lover, and gently returned the pressure of his hand.

"I will hie me to the knight," continued Philip. "I happened once to be of use to him, and he is not a man to forget a favor, though he is somewhat changed since the time I first saw him. He was then a fiery youth, for all he can look so grave at times now. He hath some credit, for it was by his intercession with the Governor that my imprisonment was shortened. I will hie me to him, and hear what he advises, more especially as he hath sent for me. And I bethink me, Prudence, it were no bad thing, if he can do so much, to get him to speak a word for mistress Eveline."

"An' thou couldest, it were a good deed, and heaven will reward thee therefor."

"I will look to thee, instead of heaven, for my reward," said the soldier. "Meanwhile do thou have thine eyes like those in a peac.o.c.k's tail, all around thee, for this Master Spikeman is cunninger than all the foxes whose tails Samson tied together."

"Trust me, Philip, and be thou discreet. And now must I be going back, for I would not abuse the liberty the kind heart of dame Spikeman gives me by loitering too long; so good-bye."

"And is this the way you take leave, when perhaps you may not see me again for a month? Not one salute?"

"Methinks thou hast been firing salutes enough already to welcome a s.h.i.+p from England. Be content, Sir Malapert, with their discharges;"

and Prudence began tripping it away.

"I'll not be content with such a discharge," muttered the soldier; then raising his voice, he called after her, "Prudence, Prudence, hasten not away so fast; there is one thing I forgot."

The girl at the sound of his voice retraced her steps a little, and met Philip.

"Harkee in thine ear," said he, "for I must speak low. I did omit to put my seal to our covenant;" and before Prudence was aware, he had imprinted a smack upon her cheek.

"And there is mine," cried Prudence, hitting him a box upon the ear, "and I warrant it will be as red as thine," and with that she bounded like a deer away.

"The foul fiend fly away with me, an' I love not the girl dearly,"

exclaimed the soldier, looking after her with admiring eyes, as like a red-winged b.u.t.terfly she flew through the green bushes. "If I ever have the luck to get her, I shall have a dame strong enough to carry her part of our bundle. Well, go thy ways, Prudence Rix, for as comely, and as sweet-breathed, and as kind a la.s.s, notwithstanding the weight of thy hand, as ever milked a cow in the old country."

The frame of mind in which the soldier now pursued his walk was very different from that in which it had commenced. The dampness of the prison which had begun to affect his health was forgotten, as the genial sun gradually dried the clamminess out of his clothing, and he inspired the reviving morning air. It seemed to him he could not drink deep enough draughts of the woodland scents, which flowed so deliciously through his lungs, as almost to compensate for the suffering which he had endured. His unexpected interview with Prudence, after he had given up all expectation of it, conduced also to impart vivacity to his spirits, and he advanced, not with a rapid pace, for of that his treatment in the jail had made him incapable, but cheerfully and resolutely.

It was perhaps an hour afterwards, when Philip, as he was walking slowly on, heard the sounds of a person coming after him, and looking round, he beheld the man whom of all the world he least desired to see. The whole temper of his spirit was at once changed. The peace which, like a stream of perfumes, had been flowing into his soul, was checked, and the atmosphere became hot and suffocating around him. It was Spikeman approaching, who was on his way to a plantation he had in the neighborhood, for there were few things promising profit to which the adventurous speculator had not directed his attention.

Philip strove to keep the horns of the rising devil out of his heart, and averting his head, stepped on one side to allow the other to pa.s.s.

Spikeman noticed the desire,--for it was too marked not to be observed; and in a new country, even strangers are not in the habit of pa.s.sing one another without greeting,--but he paid no attention to it; and as he came up, laid his hand on Philip's shoulder, and bade him a good morning.

The soldier started as though pierced by a thorn, and shaking off the hand roughly, requested the a.s.sistant to go on his way and leave him to himself.

"How now," exclaimed Spikeman. "Methinks this is cold welcome for a friend."

"Pa.s.s on thy way," said the soldier. "I desire not thy company."

"Verily, am I amazed," said Spikeman. "Surely, to confer a favor on the unthankful, is like pouring water on sand."

"I do advise thee, Master Spikeman," said Philip, "to cease thine abuse. I am no longer a fool stumbling along with his eyes blinded."

The curiosity of the a.s.sistant had been aroused at the beginning, and he determined to ascertain how far Philip's knowledge of his conduct extended, for his guilty conscience whispered that some discovery of the soldier occasioned the changed behavior. It might be caused only by suspicion, and if so, he trusted by his ingenuity to dispel it; but if he had been betrayed, it was important that he should know it. The a.s.sistant, moreover, was curious to learn from the soldier himself, why he had not broken jail as advised. He concluded that the soldier had not; for had he done so, the escape would probably have been known by morning; yet was Spikeman confident that Philip at the time of their interview in the jail had no knowledge of the order for his release. Perhaps Bars had overcome in the struggle, and disregarded it. With doubts like these floating through his mind, he began to probe Philip.

"What ails thee?" he inquired. "It would seem as if you took me for an enemy, and yet have I not always approved myself thy friend, even jeopardizing my position as a magistrate no longer ago than yesternight to release thee from jail?"

"Master Spikeman," answered Philip, "thou dost well know, I doubt not, that I am at liberty, not because I did by thy advice knock out the brains of harmless Sam Bars, but by the grace of the Governor's order."

"I counselled no more violence than was necessary to effect thy purpose; but who moved the Governor in thy case?

"Not thou, as I am well advised, but the n.o.ble Knight of the Golden Melice, a man as much superior to thee, as I am to an Indian."

"Thou art mad and vituperative, Philip, and were it not so early, I should think thou hadst been indulging too liberally in drafts of aqua vitae. It is a vile habit. But as the Archangel Michael returned not a railing accusation, but said, the Lord rebuke, thee, Satan, so say I unto thee. Truly, I comprehend thy game. Thou art weary of thy old friends, and being desirous to propitiate new, dost seek a quarrel to mask thine ingrat.i.tude. But see whether this famous knight prove not a broken reed."

The soldier, in spite of his conviction of the villainy of the other, was touched at the taunt, and hastened to defend himself.

"It is false, Master Spikeman," he cried. "If thou wert truly a friend, wherefore advise me to break jail, and thus expose myself to be hunted as a malefactor, when I had but to wait till morning for deliverance?"

"It is much, Philip Joy, for one in my condition to condescend to explain, especially after thy rudeness of speech; yet will I do it, that no fancied cause may be left for thy base suspicions. Shortly, then, I knew not of Gov. Winthrop's intention, for when I did entreat him in thy behalf, he spake in such ambiguous phrase as effectually to cloak his thoughts. I doubt not, now, that it was to make the surprise the more agreeable."

This was said with such an appearance of innocence, that the simplicity of the soldier was confounded, and he began to doubt more and more the truth of his suspicions. But the communication of Prudence rankled in his mind, and though disposed to acquit the a.s.sistant of treachery against himself, he could not forgive the treatment of the girl. He did not doubt her word, and yet desired to hear the a.s.sistant's excuse, if he had any. He shrunk from the subject, and yet was drawn to it, like a moth fascinated by a light.

"There is another thing I like not," he said, hesitatingly.

"And pray, what may thy wisdom have discovered now?"

"That it is not becoming in a grave magistrate to try to cozen servant girls," burst from the soldier.