Ay, that was it, I
think.--Well, shall we meet in two hours, when tide turns, and go down
the river like a twelve-oared barge?"
"Where is the king just now, knowest thou?" answered Lord Glenvarloch.
"The king! why, he went down to Greenwich yesterday by water, like a
noble sovereign as he is, who will always float where he can. He was
to have hunted this week, but that purpose is broken, they say; and
the Prince, and the Duke, and all of them at Greenwich, are as merry
as minnows."
"Well," replied Nigel, "I will be ready to go at five; do thou come
hither to carry my baggage."
"Ay, ay, master," replied the fellow, and left the house mixing
himself with the disorderly attendants of Duke Hildebrod, who were now
retiring. That potentate entreated Nigel to make fast the doors behind
him, and, pointing to the female who sat by the expiring fire with her
limbs outstretched, like one whom the hand of Death had already
arrested, he whispered, "Mind your hits, and mind your bargain, or I
will cut your bow-string for you before you can draw it."
Feeling deeply the ineffable brutality which could recommend the
prosecuting such views over a wretch in such a condition, Lord
Glenvarloch yet commanded his temper so far as to receive the advice
in silence, and attend to the former part of it, by barring the door
carefully behind Duke Hildebrod and his suite, with the tacit hope
that he should never again see or hear of them.
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