A long line of gulls goes wailing up inland; the rooks from Annery come cawing and sporting round the corner at Landcross, while high above them four or five herons flap solemnly along to find their breakfast on the shallows.The pheasants and partridges are clucking merrily in the long wet grass; every copse and hedgerow rings with the voice of birds, but the lark, who has been singing since midnight in the "blank height of the dark," suddenly hushes his carol and drops headlong among the corn, as a broad-winged buzzard swings from some wooded peak into the abyss of the valley, and hangs high-poised above the heavenward songster.The air is full of perfume; sweet clover, new-mown hay, the fragrant breath of kine, the dainty scent of sea-weed wreaths and fresh wet sand.
Glorious day, glorious place, "bridal of earth and sky," decked well with bridal garlands, bridal perfumes, bridal songs,--What do those four cloaked figures there by the river brink, a dark spot on the fair face of the summer morn?
Yet one is as cheerful as if he too, like all nature round him, were going to a wedding; and that is Will Cary.He has been bathing down below, to cool his brain and steady his hand; and he intends to stop Don Guzman Maria Magdalena Sotomayor de Soto's wooing for ever and a day.The Spaniard is in a very different mood; fierce and haggard, he is pacing up and down the sand.He intends to kill Will Cary; but then? Will he be the nearer to Rose by doing so? Can he stay in Bideford? Will she go with him?
Shall he stoop to stain his family by marrying a burgher's daughter? It is a confused, all but desperate business; and Don Guzman is certain but of one thing, that he is madly in love with this fair witch, and that if she refuse him, then, rather than see her accept another man, he would kill her with his own hands.
Sir Richard Grenville too is in no very pleasant humor, as St.
Leger soon discovers, when the two seconds begin whispering over their arrangements.
"We cannot have either of them killed, Arthur.""Mr.Cary swears he will kill the Spaniard, sir.""He sha'n't.The Spaniard is my guest.I am answerable for him to Leigh, and for his ransom too.And how can Leigh accept the ransom if the man is not given up safe and sound? They won't pay for a dead carcass, boy! The man's life is worth two hundred pounds.""A very bad bargain,, sir, for those who pay the said two hundred for the rascal; but what if he kills Cary?""Worse still.Cary must not be killed.I am very angry with him, but he is too good a lad to be lost; and his father would never forgive us.We must strike up their swords at the first scratch.""It will make them very mad, sir."
"Hang them! let them fight us then, if they don't like our counsel.
It must be, Arthur."
"Be sure, sir," said Arthur, "that whatsoever you shall command Ishall perform.It is only too great an honor to a young man as Iam to find myself in the same duel with your worship, and to have the advantage of your wisdom and experience."Sir Richard smiles, and says--"Now, gentlemen! are you ready?"The Spaniard pulls out a little crucifix, and kisses it devoutly, smiting on his breast; crosses himself two or three times, and says--"Most willingly, senor."Cary kisses no crucifix, but says a prayer nevertheless.
Cloaks and doublets are tossed off, the men placed, the rapiers measured hilt and point; Sir Richard and St.Leger place themselves right and left of the combatants, facing each other, the points of their drawn swords on the sand.Cary and the Spaniard stand for a moment quite upright, their sword-arms stretched straight before them, holding the long rapier horizontally, the left hand clutching the dagger close to their breasts.So they stand eye to eye, with clenched teeth and pale crushed lips, while men might count a score; St.Leger can hear the beating of his own heart; Sir Richard is praying inwardly that no life may be lost.Suddenly there is a quick turn of Cary's wrist and a leap forward.The Spaniard's dagger flashes, and the rapier is turned aside; Cary springs six feet back as the Spaniard rushes on him in turn.Parry, thrust, parry--the steel rattles, the sparks fly, the men breathe fierce and loud; the devil's game is begun in earnest.
Five minutes have the two had instant death a short six inches off from those wild sinful hearts of theirs, and not a scratch has been given.Yes! the Spaniard's rapier passes under Cary's left arm; he bleeds.
"A hit! a hit! Strike up, Atty!" and the swords are struck up instantly.
Cary, nettled by the smart, tries to close with his foe, but the seconds cross their swords before him.
"It is enough, gentlemen.Don Guzman's honor is satisfied!""But not my revenge, senor," says the Spaniard, with a frown.
"This duel is a l'outrance, on my part; and, I believe, on Mr.
Cary's also."
"By heaven, it is!" says Will, trying to push past."Let me go, Arthur St.Leger; one of us must down.Let me go, I say!""If you stir, Mr.Cary, you have to do with Richard Grenville!"thunders the lion voice."I am angry enough with you for having brought on this duel at all.Don't provoke me still further, young hot-head!"Cary stops sulkily.
