Sir Robert was never insensible to his daughter's praise, but it did
not prevent his continuing the subject. He stated that Dalton was a
clever, experienced seaman;--that his knowledge of foreign seas and
foreign affairs in general might be made most useful to government, if
government would avail itself of such advantages;--that the Buccaneer
was a bitter thorn in the side of the Protector, as he had been known to
convey malcontents to England, as well as to ship them off;--that his
Fire-fly might be termed a meteor of the waters, now here, now there,
shining like a blazing star--stealing like a moon-beam--in the Texel, in
the Thames, in the Baltic, or the Black Sea--as occasion required;
everywhere when mischief was doing, nowhere when it was to be
remedied:--that all this evil might be avoided by giving Dalton a pardon
and the command of a Commonwealth ship; that he would accept, indeed he
(Sir Robert) was sure that he desired, such an employment, and that it
would be a grievous thing for the state if an arrangement could not be
made to purchase his future services and his good conduct at so small a
price.
Burrell was astonished, but saw clearly enough that there must be some
covert motive for such deep and unaccountable anxiety: he dexterously
set forth the various arguments that might be urged by government
against a man of Dalton's character; the ill example, the dangerous
precedent of one so circumstanced taking his place amongst honourable
men, and so forth; mooting a variety of points, in order that he might
judge of Sir Robert's object by his manner of answering objections.
The baronet was caught in the toils; he betrayed so much anxiety, so
much panting eagerness in the Buccaneer's behalf, as to satisfy Burrell
that hardly any thing less than a cause of life and death could create
such intense earnestness on such a subject in a person who seemed
balancing between this world and the next. Various surmises and
conjectures, which he had heard in former times, strengthened the
opinion. Having assured himself upon this point, he ventured upon one of
those daring falsehoods that had hitherto been the principal means of
his success: he assured the baronet, in the most solemn manner, that he
had a secret way, one which he could not explain, but it was a species
of promise for service performed, of winning from Cromwell the desired
pardon and appointment;--that he had avoided asking such a favour until
something particular occurred, something of deep value and
importance;--that he was willing to sacrifice his own prospects to
oblige his friend; and the only favour he asked in return was one that,
though above all price in his estimation, could be easily bestowed by
Sir Robert Cecil--the immediate gift of his daughter's hand. He did not
wish her feelings to be wounded by a public ceremony so shortly after
the loss they had all sustained; nay, he would prefer receiving her from
her father in the ruined but beautiful little chapel that belonged to
the house: all he requested, all he entreated, was that the marriage
should be speedy. Then, with the power of one deeply skilled in
deceitfulness, he wound up the whole by tender allusions to the
weakness, the precariousness of Sir Robert's health, and the despair he
might experience on his death-bed, if he expired with the knowledge that
his beloved, and only child, had no earthly protector.