"But what can she forward to Oliver?"
"Why, she was starch, and--you comprehend me--I was obliged to submit to
a species of marriage ceremony; and there was a certificate and some
letters. In short, Captain, knowing his highness's strictness--knowing
his wish to conciliate this Ben Israel, and feeling the expediency of my
immediate marriage--I tell you it would be certain destruction to suffer
her to appear now."
"Then I must ship her off, so that she may never return," observed the
Buccaneer, with a fierce knitting of his brows.
"Dalton, you know not what a devil she is: were she gentle, or a fond
idiot, she could be managed; but she has the spirit, the foresight of a
thousand women. Besides, I swore, when her hand was lifted against my
life, that I would be revenged, and I never yet swore in vain."
Dalton looked upon Burrell's really handsome features, contracted and
withered by the pestilence of a demoniac spirit, and loathed him from
his very soul.
"I can't, Sir Willmott, I can't; flesh and blood must rise against the
destruction of a loving woman. I won't, so help me God! and that's
enough."
"Very well--very well--but I'll have blood for blood, breach for breach,
master; the Ironsides, Cromwell's tender pets, would have nice picking
here. The Protector has already a scent of your whereabouts; he is one
who neither slumbers nor sleeps. Let the bold Buccaneer look to it, and
I'll straight seek some less honest man to do my bidding."
"Heave over such jargon," replied Dalton, upon whom Burrell's threats
seemed to have made no impression. "Suppose you did betray me, how many
days' purchase would your life be worth? Think ye there are no true
hearts and brave, who would sacrifice their own lives to avenge the loss
of mine? Avast, Master of Burrell! you are old enough to know better."
"And you ought to know better than to sail against the wind. Why, man,
the little Jewess is freighted with jewels; a very queen of diamonds.
And I care not for them: you may keep them all--so----" The villain's
lip faltered; he feared to speak of the deed his heart had planned.
Dalton made no reply, but covered his face with his hand, leaning his
elbow on the table. Burrell took advantage of his silence to urge the
riches of the rabbi's daughter, the presents he himself would give, and
wound up the discourse with protests loud and earnest of everlasting
gratitude. Dalton let him speak on, but still maintained an inflexible
silence.