The Buccaneer - A Tale

"Peace, tempter, peace!" exclaimed the Cavalier, bursting as fearlessly

and as splendidly from his repose as the sun from behind a dark but yet

silent thunder-cloud. "You might have conquered," he continued in a more

subdued tone, "had not the knowledge of the love of Constantia Cecil

saved me, as it has often done. She would only loathe the man who could

change his principles from any motive but conviction. Enough,

sir--enough, sir! I know not who you really are; but this I know, I

would no more see her despoiled of her rectitude than of her chastity.

Had she been here, she would have acted as I have done:--no, she would

have acted better, for she would not have hesitated."

The veteran remained silent for a few moments after this burst of strong

and noble feeling; he then slowly and deliberately put on his hat, drew

the thick buff gloves over his muscular hands, resumed the cloak that

had fallen from his shoulder, and pointed to the door.

"Do you mean," inquired Walter, "that I am at liberty to depart?"

"You are to go with me; but you are still to consider yourself under

arrest."

"To go--whither?"

"You go with me. You might have been at liberty; but now--you go with

me. And, one word more. Walk gently if you value life, or what may be

dearer than life. I am not one to have my will disputed. You will learn

as much; but now, I say, walk gently. I wish not to disturb this giddy

household: they prate, like others of their sort, of people's doings,

and 'tis not meet to grant them opportunity."

"I am a man of desperate fortunes now," thought the young Cavalier, as

he followed his mysterious guide through some winding and to him unknown

passages of the mansion--"a man of desperate fortunes, and care not

where I go."

As they passed through the shrubbery, he saw distinctly the rays of a

lamp stream from Constantia's window. The light fell on a clump of early

roses that grew upon a flat and ancient wall, the vestige of some old

moat or turret. As they passed nearly at its base, Walter sprang up and

pulled one, then shrouded it within his bosom, as he thought, unobserved

by his stern warder; but it was not so--the veteran noted the little

act, and, noting, understood it. There was a time when he could feel and

not define; that time was past, and succeeded by the present, when he

could define, but hardly feel. In this instance, however, his memory did

him good service; and the remembrance of what his own course had been

came upon him with all the freshness of renewed boyhood, so that he

could have pressed his youthful and ardent antagonist to his bosom. This

sunbeam of the past was not to continue, for he opened a wicket-gate

leading into the park, and blew one note, not loud, but clear, upon a

whistle. In an instant, as if the grass had produced men, Walter found

himself in the midst of mounted soldiers. He looked around him in

amazement, and even touched the nearest horse, to be certain that it was

not a dream! There they stood, the moonbeams, broken by the

overshadowing trees, coming down in dappled spots upon the chargers and

their iron-looking riders: carved centaurs could not be more immovable.

True, Walter had been absorbed; yet was all this real! There was for

him, too, a stout steed, which he was twice desired to mount ere he

obeyed.