trace of peevishness, too closely pressed
down upon them, the complexion is dark, the figure tall and graceful;
altogether the likeness of a wise and gallant gentleman, lovely to all
good men, awful to all bad men; in whose presence none dare say or do a
mean or a ribald thing; whom brave men left, feeling themselves nerved
to do their duty better, while cowards slipped away, as bats and
owls before the sun. So he lived and moved, whether in the Court of
Elizabeth, giving his counsel among the wisest; or in the streets of
Bideford, capped alike by squire and merchant, shopkeeper and sailor; or
riding along the moorland roads between his houses of Stow and Bideford,
while every woman ran out to her door to look at the great Sir Richard,
the pride of North Devon; or, sitting there in the low mullioned window
at Burrough, with his cup of malmsey before him, and the lute to which
he had just been singing laid across his knees, while the red western
sun streamed in upon his high, bland forehead, and soft curling locks;
ever the same steadfast, God-fearing, chivalrous man, conscious (as far
as a soul so healthy could be conscious) of the pride of beauty, and
strength, and valor, and wisdom, and a race and name which claimed
direct descent from the grandfather of the Conqueror, and was tracked
down the centuries by valiant deeds and noble benefits to his native
shire, himself the noblest of his race. Men said that he was proud; but
he could not look round him without having something to be proud of;
that he was stern and harsh to his sailors: but it was only when he saw
in them any taint of cowardice or falsehood; that he was subject, at
moments, to such fearful fits of rage, that he had been seen to snatch
the glasses from the table, grind them to pieces in his teeth, and
swallow them: but that was only when his indignation had been aroused by
some tale of cruelty or oppression, and, above all, by those West Indian
devilries of the Spaniards, whom he regarded (and in those days rightly
enough) as the enemies of God and man. Of this last fact Oxenham was
well aware, and therefore felt somewhat puzzled and nettled, when, after
having asked Mr. Leigh's leave to take young Amyas with him and set
forth in glowing colors the purpose of his voyage, he found Sir Richard
utterly unwilling to help him with his suit.

"Heyday, Sir Richard! You are not surely gone over to the side of those
canting fellows (Spanish Jesuits in disguise, eve