A very different scene was enacting at the Pool-house on that very
evening. Sir Mark had spent the day mostly out of doors, and had sought
out the founder, who, finding that he made no further allusions to his
child, but turned the conversation to the works, readily showed him the
busy tasks in progress, where, about a mile from the house, men were
digging ironstone from out of a pit. Then on the way back he pointed
with pride to the deep hole in the face of a precipitous mass of stone,
where the shell had torn for itself a place in which to explode, and
then rent out the rock in splintered fragments, which lay about side by
side with the pieces of iron of which the shell was composed.
"Does that hole go in far?" said Sir Mark, eyeing it curiously.
"Goodness knows," was the reply. "Deep enough. That shot would destroy
part of an enemy's stronghold, or drive in the side of a ship. But
come, and you shall see them get ready a furnace for my next gun."
Sir Mark followed, and watched the process as layers of ironstone were
alternated with charcoal from a mighty heap that lay hard by.
A visit to one of the powder-sheds came next, after Sir Mark had left
outside his sword, dagger, and spurs.
"Are you not too particular?" he said, rather disdainfully.
"Not a bit," was the bluff reply. "Would'st have his Majesty's
Ambassador blown into fragments, like one of my shells? I am none too
particular," he said, as he saw his companion shudder. "I have had so
many accidents here that you must allow me to know what is best."
After this Sir Mark seemed disposed to shirk the visit, but he made an
effort, and walked through the place more manfully, looking with curious
eyes at the dull black grains, or masses of composition in an unfinished
state.
"How would his Majesty like a run through here?" said the founder, with
a chuckle. "Powder will always have an ill savour in his nostrils."
It was with no little sense of relief that Sir Mark found himself
outside, close by the shed where the great howitzer had been placed, and
at his solicitation the founder readily consented to have the gun out
once more, and with boyish eagerness devoted himself to test the powers
of the piece and its bursting shells, when loaded after Gil's own
fashion.
At last the founder and his guest had returned, partaken of the evening
meal, which Mace dispensed with the calmness of one whose heart was
quite at rest; and finally she had retired to find occasion to take
Janet to task for being giggling and whispering in the shrubbery with
one of Sir Mark's gaily-dressed men, for by dint of careful drying and
smoothing, the traces of the plunge into the mill-race had been made to
disappear.
"Now, Master Cobbe," said Sir Mark, "let us calmly and in friendly
spirit talk over our affairs again. Suppose you fill your glass."
"That I will," said the founder; "and you do the same."
"I'll drink with you and welcome," said Sir Mark, filling his glass,
nodding, and then wetting his lips, while the founder took a hearty
draught.
"That's better," he said. "And now, sir, what is it to be--a good order
for his Majesty's troops?"
"Yes, and fortune for you Master Cobbe. This order will be but the
introduction to many. Why should you not be ordnance-master to his
Majesty?"
"Why, indeed, my lad," said the founder, composedly. "I should gain, of
course, but the King would be no loser."
"Then why not have it so, Master Cobbe. Come, I appeal to you--I plead
to you. Are you blind to your daughter's advantages? I am not a
moneyed man, but I offer position and a title."
"If I sell her to thee," said the founder, looking through the wine in
his glass.
"Tush! Why call things by such hard names? 'tis no sale--I love her
dearly, and to help my cause I own that I do try to press upon thee by
means of the interest I have at court."
"What should I make by your order, Sir Mark?" said the founder,
musingly.
"How can I tell?" cried Sir Mark, eagerly. "What do I know of the
profits? All I know is that I can give you an order for guns and
ammunition, to the value of three thousand pounds, to be paid in hard
coin. You shall supply as many of those great howitzers and shells as
you can, and then take on more men and make others, for from what I have
seen of the performance of those guns you have made both name and
fortune."
The founder sat gazing through his wine again, as if musing, and the
visitor watched the play of his features with anxiety.
"Harkye, Master Cobbe," he whispered, "I offer marriage and a place at
court for your child. Of course I know that there has been some
love-talk between her and this Carr, as they call him, but he has sailed
away, and what could be a better opportunity for my suit?"
"But, suppose she loves this Gilbert Carr, Sir Mark?"
"Tush, man; a girl's fancy! She will forget him in a week. The sight
of a wedding-dress would drive him out of her head. You but give me
access to her and your aid, and, trust me, she will be a willing bride.
There, it is settled, is it not?"
"Sir Mark Leslie," said the founder, sitting back in his chair; "if you
could offer me ten times three thousand pounds in orders I would say the
same. Sir, I am a bluff south-country yeoman, and I would sooner become
the meanest beggar that crawls than sell my poor child as I would
chaffer away a gun. There, I'll listen to no more. Stay, if you
please; you are just as welcome. But I'll hear no more from you or any
man upon this point."
He gazed frankly into his guest's eye as Sir Mark's brow knit, and the
young man strove hard to keep down the annoyance he felt at the
rejection of his suit by this, in his eyes, common man.
For some minutes neither spoke, and then Sir Mark began in a low husky
voice.
"Master Cobbe, I have come to you offering you friendship, and you
reject it. I cannot be your enemy for your child's sake; but you compel
me to bring force to bear."
"Force, sir, what force?" cried the founder angrily. "Do you mean
you'll carry her away? 'fore Heaven I warn you that the lives of you and
your servants would not be worth a snap of the fingers did you try such
a thing. There are more men here in this neighbourhood than you think
for, ready and willing to fight for her at word of mine."
"No, Master Cobbe; the force I bring to bear is of another sort. Mind,
you bring me to this by your obstinate rejection of my suit. I now tell
you that Mace must and shall be my wife, and that you will give her to
me."
"Indeed!"
"Yes," said Sir Mark, "and soon. Listen: I hold the power here to seize
upon this place in his Majesty's name; to arrest you for high treason as
the man who supplied his Majesty's enemies, and as one who is now in
league with papist emissaries. Stop, sir, hear me out. You are leagued
with one Father Brisdone, a notorious follower of Spain; with a rough
adventurer named Carr, who is more pirate than trader. In fact, you and
yours are attainted, and at a word from me ruin falls upon you all."
"And you will do all this with two men whom the very boys who work for
me would throw into the Pool?"
"I came in peace, with two men only, Master Cobbe; but a messenger would
fetch twenty, fifty, or a hundred good swordsmen and harquebusiers to my
side to seize your person, raze the works to the ground, and then--yes,
then, Master Cobbe, your daughter would become an easy prize."
"What you say is all false!" cried the founder, who sat aghast as he
felt what a web the man before him had contrived to spread around.
"False or true, I am no judge, Master Cobbe. I am here to execute the
King's commands. The case is left in my hands to act as I see fit. If
you prove a good subject of his Majesty, and supply him with the
ordnance, well. If you refuse, you stamp yourself a rebel, and as one
guilty of high treason."
"But I do not refuse, Sir Mark; I offer to supply his Majesty."
"You refuse the proposal of his servant."
"Did his Majesty bid thee truck and bargain with me, making my child the
price at which I should obtain this order?" said the founder, curtly.
"His Majesty bade me do what seemed the best," said Sir Mark; "so what
is it to be, Master Cobbe--Peace or war?"
"War," cried the founder, angrily; and he brought his fist down heavily
on the table.
"As you will, Master Cobbe; but I warn you of your folly. You lose
heavily in wealth and liberty, and you deprive your child of her natural
protector, leaving her almost entirely at my mercy."
"No," cried the founder, "not so. If by your lies and trickery I am
snatched from her, there are two men who would take upon themselves the
part of guardian. Father Brisdone would--"
"Be in prison or a fugitive," said Sir Mark, quietly.
"Then Master Peasegood would--"
"Be suspended from his office for evil dealing, and allowing himself to
be won over to the Papist cause."
"Then I'd trust Gil Carr, and bid him wed my child."
"Gilbert, otherwise Culverin, Carr's ship, when it returned, would by my
orders be watched and seized, as a suspected vessel, and its captain and
crew imprisoned to await their trial."
"Then Sir Thomas Beckley, justice and just man, with all his faults,
would protect my daughter."
"Sir Thomas Beckley might be called upon to seize the person of Mistress
Mace Cobbe, for divers malpractices, held in common with a woman here
known as Mother Goodhugh, a notorious witch. His Majesty has determined
to put down and root out of his kingdom all those vile traffickers with
the works of darkness, and has placed great power in the hands of the
magistrates of this realm."
"What!" cried the founder, half in anger, half-laughing. "My child a
witch!"
"I say not so, Master Cobbe; I only speak of the common report. Both
thy daughter and her maid have been regular visitors to this notorious
woman, and by this they have exposed themselves to great risk; for to be
attainted now of witchcraft, even of holding communion with the powers
of darkness, may mean the stake."
"Curse thy quibbling, glib, plot-weaving ways?" cried the founder.
"Failing those I have named there is not a man, woman, or boy in
Roehurst who would not raise a hand for the white moth."
"Yes," said Sir Mark, quickly; "that is it. Even that tells against
her. She is known commonly as the White Moth of Roehurst; and there are
those who whisper that she is a witch."
"Sir Mark Leslie!" cried the founder, who was white with anger, "I will
not quarrel with thee again. I forgot myself once towards my guest; I
hope to control myself now, but you try me sore."
"It grieves me, Master Cobbe, and, though I speak this, it is not as an
enemy but as a friend. I merely place my position before you, and say
is it not better to avoid all this trouble, when instead the way is open
to wealth and honour, and a peaceful old age?"
"Who and what are you?" cried the founder, passionately; "and why do you
come to disturb my peaceful home?"
"I am his Majesty's servant, Master Cobbe. I came here at his command
to investigate certain malpractices alleged against thee. I found them
to be true, but I found here also a greater king than his Majesty James
the First. I found here that all-powerful monarch--Love, and,
vanquished by him, I suffered thy sword; I made reports that softened
thy case; I returned from my mission with so goodly an account that the
King gave me leave to offer thee honour and wealth if, in place of being
of doubtful allegiance, thou becomest his faithful liege subject, and
work for him as you have been accused of working for others. There,
Master Cobbe, it is late, and thou art angry. Think over it all; sleep
on it; take time to consider. I am one who can wait; for, believe me, I
would rather see thee honoured than know that a lingering imprisonment
was sapping thy vital forces and bringing thee low. Good night, Master
Cobbe, good night."
Sir Mark held out his hand, but it was not noticed; the founder sitting
back in his stiff old-fashioned chair, and going over the words of his
guest, who, with a peculiar smile, glanced at him mockingly, and slowly
ascended to his chamber, leaving his host to sit thinking hour after
hour, and at last to stumble off heavily to bed with the feeling upon
him that he had been playing at some game with heavy stakes, and that
the luck had been all upon the other side.
Volume 2, Chapter XIII.