Henry glanced with apprehension at the soldiers who surrounded him. “Am I under arrest?” he asked of the cavalier who walked beside him.
“Under arrest!” The man laughed. “No! We couldn’t arrest you if we would. The mob would tear us to pieces. And if we did succeed in the arrest, they would rip out the stones of the jail with their fingers to free you. You do not realize what you are to these people, sir. For days they have talked of nothing save your coming. But the Governor wants to see you immediately, sir. He couldn’t come here himself for obvious reasons.”
They arrived at the mansion of the Governor.
“Captain Morgan,” said Governor Moddyford, when they were alone, “I don’t know whether my news is good or bad. Word of your conquest has come to the ears of the King. Both of us are ordered to England.”
“But I had a commission—” Henry began.
The fat head and shoulders of the Governor shook a sad negative. “Now I wouldn’t mention the commission, Captain, if I were you, even though I myself did issue it. There are clauses in your commission which might get us both criticized. As it is, we may be hanged: but I don’t know—I don’t know. Of course, there is peace between Spain and England—but no good feeling, none at all. The King is angry with us, but I think a few thousand pounds distributed in the right quarters might placate him were he mad with rage. The English people is filled with joy over the conquest. Don’t worry about it, Captain; certainly I do not.” He looked keenly into Henry’s eyes. “I hope, sir, that you can spare those few thousands when the time comes.”
Said Henry, officially, “I have tried to serve the spirit of my sovereign’s wish, not the outward play of his politics.” And then, “Surely, Sir Charles; I have enough to buy the King’s favor though it cost half a million. They say the King is a good man and a judge of fine women, and I never knew one such not to need money.”
“There is another thing, Captain,” said the Governor uneasily. “Your uncle was killed some time ago. His daughter is here in my house. Sir Edward was nearly penniless when he died. Of course, you understand, we would like to have her stay here with us always, but I do not think she is quite happy. I think she chafes under what she thinks is charity. You will look to her welfare, of course. Sir Edward died nobly and was commended by the King, but after all the commendation of the Crown cannot be spent.”
Henry smiled. “My uncle would have died nobly. I am sure this uncle of mine made every move in his life—yes, even to the paring of his nails—as though the complete peerage were looking on, ready to make critical comments.
How did he die? Making a short, fitting oration? Or with the damned thin lips of him pressed together as though he disapproved of death for social reasons? Ah, that man! His life was a fine, simple part, and he was very true to it.” Henry spoke laughingly. “I hated my uncle. I think he frightened me. He was one of the few people I feared. But tell me how he died.”
“It is whispered that he groaned once. I traced the rumor and found that some servant had been hiding behind a curtain. He doubtless told of it.”
“Too bad! Too bad! What a cruel shame it is to ruin a perfect life with an exhalation. But now I am not afraid of him any more. If he groaned there was humanity in him, and weakness. I despise him, but I love him for it. As to my cousin, I shall take her off your hands, you may be sure. I dimly remember her as a tall little girl with yellow hair—a little girl who played abominably on the harp; at least it sounded abominable to me, though it may have been quite good.”
Moddyford came to a subject he had been wanting to broach.
“I have heard that you met the Red Saint in Panama and released her for a ransom. How did that happen? She was said to be the pearl of the earth.”
Henry reddened.
“Oh, well,” he said, “it seemed to me that the legend flattered her. She was nice looking, surely; and I don’t say some men would not have been struck with her. But she was not the kind of woman I admire for myself. She was rather free in her speech, you know—spoke of things unfeminine, in my opinion. Besides, she rode horses astride, and fenced. In short, she was without that modesty we have come to look for in well-bred women.”
“But as a mistress— Surely, as a mistress?”
“Well, you see, I received seventy-five thousand pieces of eight for her. To my mind that is worth more than any woman who was ever born.”
“That much ransom? How did she happen to bring so much?”
“Why, on investigation, I found that she was an heiress. And as I say, she was nice looking, but still—the legend flattered her.”
Meanwhile, in another room Lady Moddyford was earnestly talking to Elizabeth.
“I find I must speak to you as a mother, my dear, a mother who is looking to your future. There is absolutely no doubt that your cousin will look out for you; but would you be happy that way?—just hanging to his purse-strings, I mean? Look at him in another light. He is rich, well-favored. You understand, my dear, that it is impossible to be delicate about this, and I do not know that it would be desirable even if it were possible. Why don’t you marry your cousin? If nothing else came of it, you would be the one woman on earth who could not criticize her husband’s relatives.”
“But what are you suggesting, Lady Moddyford?” Elizabeth put in meekly. “Isn’t it some kind of crime to marry one’s Cousin?”
“Not a bit of it, my dear. There is nothing in church or state to forbid it, and I, myself, would favor such a marriage. Sir Charles and your cousin have been ordered to England. Sir Charles thinks a knighthood might be arranged. Then you would be Lady Morgan, and you would be rich.”
Elizabeth mused: “I only saw him once, for a moment, and then I don’t think I quite liked him. He was excited and red. But he was very respectful and gentle. I think he wanted to be friends with me, but my father—you know how Papa was. Perhaps he would make a good husband,” she said.
“My dear, any man makes a good husband if he is properly looked after.”
“Yes, it might be the best way out. I am tired of being pitied for my poverty. But with this new popularity, do you think he would notice me? He might be too proud to marry a penniless cousin.”
“Dear Elizabeth,” Lady Moddyford said firmly, “don’t you know by now that almost any woman can marry almost any man as long as some other woman doesn’t interfere? And I shall arrange matters so that no one will get in your way. You may trust me for that.”
Elizabeth had made up her mind. “I know; I shall play for him. I have heard how music affects these fierce men. I shall play him my new pieces—‘The Elves’ Concourse,’ and ‘God Bears the Weary Soul to Rest.’ ”
“No,” broke in Lady Moddyford. “No, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He might not like fine music. There are better ways.”
“But you said those pieces were very pretty; you said it yourself. And haven’t I read how music soothes men until they can hardly bear it?”
“Very well, my dear; play for him, then, if you will. Perhaps he—But play for him. Such things may run in the family—the love of music, I mean. Of course, you know, you must admire him and at the same time be a little afraid of him. Make him feel that you are a poor, helpless little creature completely hemmed in with tigers. But you must arrange it in your own way. You have a good start, for you may appeal to him for protection from the beginning.” She sighed, “I don’t know what we should do without protection. I don’t know when Sir Charles would have proposed to me. The dear was frightened out of his life to begin. One afternoon we sat on a bench and I positively searched the landscape for something to frighten me. We must have been there three hours before a little water-snake ambled along the path and terrified me into his arms. No, I can’t think what we should do without protection. Sir Charles has a man in the garden all the time looking for snakes. And do you know, I have always liked snakes. I had three of them for pets when I was a little girl.”