The Sea-Hawk | Page 6

shrewd fellow ("cunning as twenty devils,"
is my Lord Henry's phrase) and he was also a man of some not
inconsiderable learning. Yet neither his natural wit nor his acquired
endowments appear to have taught him that of all the gods that rule the
destinies of mankind there is none more ironic and malicious than that
same Dan Cupid in whose honour, as it were, he was now burning the
incense of that pipe of his. The ancients knew that innocent-seeming
boy for a cruel, impish knave, and they mistrusted him. Sir Oliver
either did not know or did not heed that sound piece of ancient wisdom.
It was to be borne in upon him by grim experience, and even as his
light pensive eyes smiled upon the sunshine that flooded the terrace
beyond the long mullioned window, a shadow fell athwart it which he
little dreamed to be symbolic of the shadow that was even falling

across the sunshine of his life.
After that shadow came the substance--tall and gay of raiment under a
broad black Spanish hat decked with blood-red plumes. Swinging a
long beribboned cane the figure passed the windows, stalking
deliberately as Fate.
The smile perished on Sir Oliver's lips. His swarthy face grew
thoughtful, his black brows contracted until no more than a single deep
furrow stood between them. Then slowly the smile came forth again,
but no longer that erstwhile gentle pensive smile. It was transformed
into a smile of resolve and determination, a smile that tightened his lips
even as his brows relaxed, and invested his brooding eyes with a gleam
that was mocking, crafty and almost wicked.
Came Nicholas his servant to announce Master Peter Godolphin, and
close upon the lackey's heels came Master Godolphin himself, leaning
upon his beribboned cane and carrying his broad Spanish hat. He was a
tall, slender gentleman, with a shaven, handsome countenance, stamped
with an air of haughtiness; like Sir Oliver, he had a high-bridged,
intrepid nose, and in age he was the younger by some two or three
years. He wore his auburn hair rather longer than was the mode just
then, but in his apparel there was no more foppishness than is tolerable
in a gentleman of his years.
Sir Oliver rose and bowed from his great height in welcome. But a
wave of tobacco-smoke took his graceful visitor in the throat and set
him coughing and grimacing.
"I see," he choked, "that ye have acquired that filthy habit."
"I have known filthier," said Sir Oliver composedly.
"I nothing doubt it," rejoined Master Godolphin, thus early giving
indications of his humour and the object of his visit.
Sir Oliver checked an answer that must have helped his visitor to his
ends, which was no part of the knight's intent.

"Therefore," said he ironically, "I hope you will be patient with my
shortcomings. Nick, a chair for Master Godolphin and another cup. I
bid you welcome to Penarrow."
A sneer flickered over the younger man's white face. "You pay me a
compliment, sir, which I fear me 'tis not mine to return to you."
"Time enough for that when I come to seek it," said Sir Oliver, with
easy, if assumed, good humour.
"When you come to seek it?"
"The hospitality of your house," Sir Oliver explained.
"It is on that very matter I am come to talk with you."
"Will you sit?" Sir Oliver invited him, and spread a hand towards the
chair which Nicholas had set. In the same gesture he waved the servant
away.
Master Godolphin ignored the invitation. "You were," he said, "at
Godolphin Court but yesterday, I hear." He paused, and as Sir Oliver
offered no denial, he added stiffly: "I am come, sir, to inform you that
the honour of your visits is one we shall be happy to forgo."
In the effort he made to preserve his self-control before so direct an
affront Sir Oliver paled a little under his tan.
"You will understand, Peter," he replied slowly, "that you have said too
much unless you add something more." He paused, considering his
visitor a moment. "I do not know whether Rosamund has told you that
yesterday she did me the honour to consent to become my wife...."
"She is a child that does not know her mind," broke in the other.
"Do you know of any good reason why she should come to change it?"
asked Sir Oliver, with a slight air of challenge.
Master Godolphin sat down, crossed his legs and placed his hat on his

knee.
"I know a dozen," he answered. "But I need not urge them. Sufficient
should it be to remind you that Rosamund is but seventeen and that she
is under my guardianship and that of Sir John Killigrew. Neither Sir
John nor I