They had just traversed this garden of the sluggard, and were within
a few steps of the door of the mansion, when Lambourne had ceased
speaking; a circumstance very agreeable to Tressilian, as it saved him
the embarrassment of either commenting upon or replying to the frank
avowal which his companion had just made of the sentiments and views
which induced him to come hither. Lambourne knocked roundly and boldly
at the huge door of the mansion, observing, at the same time, he had
seen a less strong one upon a county jail. It was not until they had
knocked more than once that an aged, sour-visaged domestic reconnoitred
them through a small square hole in the door, well secured with bars of
iron, and demanded what they wanted.
"To speak with Master Foster instantly, on pressing business of the
state," was the ready reply of Michael Lambourne.
"Methinks you will find difficulty to make that good," said Tressilian
in a whisper to his companion, while the servant went to carry the
message to his master.
"Tush," replied the adventurer; "no soldier would go on were he
always to consider when and how he should come off. Let us once obtain
entrance, and all will go well enough."
In a short time the servant returned, and drawing with a careful hand
both bolt and bar, opened the gate, which admitted them through an
archway into a square court, surrounded by buildings. Opposite to the
arch was another door, which the serving-man in like manner unlocked,
and thus introduced them into a stone-paved parlour, where there was but
little furniture, and that of the rudest and most ancient fashion. The
windows were tall and ample, reaching almost to the roof of the room,
which was composed of black oak; those opening to the quadrangle were
obscured by the height of the surrounding buildings, and, as they were
traversed with massive shafts of solid stone-work, and thickly painted
with religious devices, and scenes taken from Scripture history, by no
means admitted light in proportion to their size, and what did penetrate
through them partook of the dark and gloomy tinge of the stained glass.
Tressilian and his guide had time enough to observe all these
particulars, for they waited some space in the apartment ere the present
master of the mansion at length made his appearance. Prepared as he was
to see an inauspicious and ill-looking person, the ugliness of Anthony
Foster considerably exceeded what Tressilian had anticipated. He was
of middle stature, built strongly, but so clumsily as to border on
deformity, and to give all his motions the ungainly awkwardness of a
left-legged and left-handed man. His hair, in arranging which men at
that time, as at present, were very nice and curious, instead of being
carefully cleaned and disposed into short curls, or else set up on end,
as is represented in old paintings, in a manner resembling that used by
fine gentlemen of our own day, escaped in sable negligence from under
a furred bonnet, and hung in elf-locks, which seemed strangers to
the comb, over his rugged brows, and around his very singular and
unprepossessing countenance. His keen, dark eyes were deep set beneath
broad and shaggy eyebrows, and as they were usually bent on the ground,
seemed as if they were themselves ashamed of the expression natural to
them, and were desirous to conceal it from the observation of men.
At times, however, when, more intent on observing others, he suddenly
raised them, and fixed them keenly on those with whom he conversed, they
seemed to express both the fiercer passions, and the power of mind which
could at will suppress or disguise the intensity of inward feeling.
The features which corresponded with these eyes and this form were
irregular, and marked so as to be indelibly fixed on the mind of him
who had once seen them. Upon the whole, as Tressilian could not help
acknowledging to himself, the Anthony Foster who now stood before them
was the last person, judging from personal appearance, upon whom one
would have chosen to intrude an unexpected and undesired visit. His
attire was a doublet of russet leather, like those worn by the better
sort of country folk, girt with a buff belt, in which was stuck on the
right side a long knife, or dudgeon dagger, and on the other a
cutlass. He raised his eyes as he entered the room, and fixed a keenly
penetrating glance upon his two visitors; then cast them down as if
counting his steps, while he advanced slowly into the middle of the
room, and said, in a low and smothered tone of voice, "Let me pray you,
gentlemen, to tell me the cause of this visit."