For guilty states do ever bear

The plagues about them which they have deserved;

And, till those plagues do get above

The mountain of our faults, and there do sit,

We see them not. Thus, still we love

The evil we do, until we suffer it.

BEN JONSON

The Buccaneer welcomed the young man with greater warmth than is usually

displayed, except to near and dear connections. It must be remembered,

also, he had arrived at that period of life when feelings of affection

and friendship stagnate somewhat in the veins, and curdle into apathy.

Few are there who have numbered fifty winters without wondering what

could have set their blood boiling and their hearts beating so warmly

some few years before. A benison upon a smiling lip, a kindly eye, and a

cheerful voice!--whether they belong to the young or to the old--may all

such true graces be long preserved from the blight called "knowledge of

the world!" which, while bestowing information with the one hand, takes

away innocence and hope with the other.--But to the story.

The young Cavalier greeted his associate more as a friend than a

companion: there was evidently between them that good understanding

which, arising from acquaintance with the better points of character,

produces mutual esteem; and although there was a degree of deference

paid to Hugh Dalton by the youth, it seemed a compliment to his age and

experience, gracefully and naturally rendered, and kindly and thankfully

received. It was obvious that Dalton so considered it; receiving

attention far less as his due, than as a voluntary offering for which he

desired to show his gratitude.

There was, nevertheless, something of pity mingled with regard, which

the youth manifested towards his chafed companion, as he took the seat

that had been occupied by Burrell, and, laying his hand upon the

powerful arm of the Buccaneer, inquired, in a touching and anxious tone,

if aught had particularly disturbed him.

"Walter, no--nothing very particular; for knavery and villany are seldom

rare, and I have been long accustomed to treat with both; only it's too

bad to have more unclean spirits than one's own harpying and haunting a

man! God! I can breathe better now that fellow's gone. Ah, Master

Walter! there be two sorts of villains in the world: one with a broad,

bronzed face, a bold loud voice, a drinking look, and an unsheathed

dagger--and him men avoid and point at, and children cling to their

mother's skirts as he passes by:--the other is masked from top to

toe;--his step is slow, his voice harmonised, his eye vigilant, but

well-trained; he wears his dagger in his bosom, and crosses his hands

thereon as if in piety, but it is, in truth, that his hold may be firm

and his stab sure; yet the world know not that, and they trust him, and

he is singled out as a pattern-man for youth to follow; and so--but we

all play parts--all, all! And now for a stave of a song: Hurrah for the

free trade!--a shout for the brave Buccaneers!--a pottle of sack!--and

now, sir, I am myself again! The brimstone smell of that dark ruffian

nearly overpowered me!" So saying, he passed his hand frequently over

his brows, attempting at the same time to laugh away his visible

emotion.




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