Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v108.djvu/814

764 When the two men were separated the one lay huddled and unconscious against his chair, and the other stood with iron composure, glancing from the unconscious envoy to his host, Alonzo Brava.

"I know not who you are, señor," spoke the latter, with anger hardly controlled, "but you have broken truce and done bodily injury to my guest,—who, not being able at the moment to speak for himself—"

"Your pardon, señor, for any dis- courtesy toward my host," answered Ferne. "And I would give you satisfaction here and now if—if—" He looked down upon his empty hands. The gesture was seen of all. Made by him, it came as one of those slight acts which have a power to pierce the heart and enlighten the understanding. Unconscious as it was, the movement rent away the veil of four years, broke any remnant of the spell that was upon the English, set him high and clear before them—the peer of Francis Drake, of John Nevil, of Raleigh, and of Sidney. This was Sir Mortimer Ferne, and there was that which he lacked! Up and down the room there ran a sudden sound of steel drawn swiftly from metal, leather, or velvet sheaths. "My sword. Sir Mortimer Ferne!"—"Mine!"—"And mine!"—"Do mine honor. Sir Mortimer Ferne!"—"Sir Mortimer Ferne, take mine!"

Ferne's hand closed upon the hilt which Nevil had silently offered, and he turned to salute his antagonist, whose pallor now matched his own. "Are you that English knight ?" demanded Brava, with dry lips. "Then in courtesy alone will we cross blades—no more!"

The steel clashed, the points fell, and Spaniard and Englishman bowed gravely each to the other.

"I thank you," said Ferne, hoarsely. "With your permission, señor, I will say good night. You will understand, I think, that I would be alone."

"That we must all understand," said Alonzo Brava. "Our good wishes travel with you, señor."

Sir Mortimer turned, and from the younger, more heedless adventurers broke a ringing shout, a repeated calling of his name, until it echoed from the lofty roof; but his friends spoke not to him, only made an aisle through which he might pass. His arm was raised, Nevil's sword a gleaming line along the dark velvet of his sleeve. The face seen below the lifted arm was very strange, written over with a thousand meanings. The poise of the figure and the light upon the sword increased the effect of height, the effect of the one-night-whitened hair. There was, moreover, the gleam and shadow of the countenance, evident forgetfulness of time or place, the desire of the soul to be out with night and storm and miracles. The English drew farther back, and he went by them like an apparition.

Later in the night Nevil and Arden, after fruitless search, came upon a space where the wall of Cartagena rose sheer above the water. To-night the sea roared in their ears, but the storm had gone by, leaving upon the horizon a black and rugged bank of cloud rimmed by great beacon stars. Down through a wide rift in the clouds streamed light from a haloed moon. Beneath it, seated upon the stone, his hands clasped about his knees and a gleaming sword laid across them, was the man they sought. His head was lifted, and the moon gave light enough by which to read the lineaments of a good knight and true, brave, of stainless honor, a lover of things of good repute, pure gold to his friends, generous to his foes, gentle to the weak, tender and pitiful of all who sinned or suffered. He heard their footsteps on the stone, and rising, went to meet them.

"It hath been a wonderful night," he said. "Look, how great is the ring about the moon! and the air after the storm blows from far countries They have come to me one after another—all the men of the Cygnet, and the Phœnix, and the land force. Henry Sedley sate beside me, with his arm about my shoulder; and Captain Robert Baldry and I have clasped hands, foregoing our quarrel. And the crew of the Sea Wraith went by like shadows. I know not if I did wrongly by them, but if it be so I will abide God's judgment between us when I too am dead. And I am not yet for the Low Countries, Arden! I am for England—England, England!"

They leaned against the parapet and looked out upon the now gleaming sea, the rack of the clouds, and the broken