The Buccaneer - A Tale

"You need not wait," said Dalton, laying his hand on the latch. Barbara

paused a moment, to look on the wild being, so different from the staid

persons she was in the daily habit of seeing at the hall; and then her

light, even step, faded on the sailor's ear.

Sir Robert Cecil was standing, or rather leaning, with folded arms,

against a column of the dark marble chimney-piece, which, enriched by

various carvings and mouldings, rose nearly to the ceiling. The

Baronet's hair, of mingled grey and black, had been cropped according to

the approved fashion of the time; so that his features had not the

advantage of either shadow or relief from the most beautiful of nature's

ornaments. He might have been a few years older or younger than the

sailor who had just entered; but his figure seemed weak and bending as a

willow-wand, as he moved slowly round to receive his visiter. The

usually polite expression of his countenance deepened into the

insidious, and a faint smile rested for a moment on his lip. This

outward show of welcome contrasted strangely with the visible tremor

that agitated his frame: he did not speak; either from inability to coin

an appropriate sentence, or the more subtle motive of waiting until the

communication of the stranger was first made.

After a lengthened pause, during which Dalton slowly advanced, so as to

stand opposite Sir Robert Cecil, he commenced the conversation, without

any of that show of courtesy, which the consciousness of their relative

situations might have called for: even his cap was unremoved.

"I am sorry, Sir Robert, to have come at such a time; nor would I now

remain, were it not that my business----"

"I am not aware," interrupted the Baronet, "of any matters of

'business' pending between us. I imagine, on reflection, you will find

that all such have been long since concluded. If there is any way,

indeed, in which I can oblige you, for the sake of an old servant----"

"Servant!" in his turn interrupted Dalton, with emphasis, "we have

been companions, Sir Robert--companions in more than one act; and, by

the dark heavens above us, will be so in another--if necessary."

The haughty Baronet writhed under this familiarity; yet was there an

expression of triumphant quietude in his eye, as if he despised the

insinuation of the seaman. "I think, considering all things, you have

been pretty well paid for such acts, Master Dalton; I have never taken

any man's labour for nothing."

"Labour!" again echoed the sailor, "labour may be paid for; but what can

stand in lieu of innocence, purity of heart, and rectitude of conduct?"