to
me of my dead father's dissoluteness and of an ancient quarrel between
him and yours, to bleat of my trumped-up course of piracy and my own
ways of life as a just cause why I may not wed your sister whilst the
real consideration in your mind, the real spur to your hostility is not
more than the matter of some few paltry pounds a year that I hinder you
from pocketing. A God's name get you gone."

Nick entered at that moment.

"You shall hear from me again, Sir Oliver," said the other, white with
anger. "You shall account to me for these words."

"I do not fight with... with hucksters," flashed Sir Oliver.

"D'ye dare call me that?"

"Indeed, 'tis to discredit an honourable class, I confess it. Nick, the
door for Master Godolphin."

CHAPTER II. ROSAMUND

Anon, after his visitor had departed, Sir Oliver grew calm again. Then
being able in his calm to consider his position, he became angry anew at
the very thought of the rage in which he had been, a rage which had so
mastered him that he had erected additional obstacles to the already
considerable ones that stood between Rosamund and himself. In full
blast, his anger swung round and took Sir John Killigrew for its
objective. He would settle with him at once. He would so, by Heaven's
light!

He bellowed for Nick and his boots.

"Where is Master Lionel? he asked when the boots had been fetched.

"He be just ridden in, Sir Oliver."

"Bid him hither."

Promptly, in answer to that summons, came Sir Oliver's half-brother--a
slender lad favouring his mother the dissolute Ralph Tressilian's second
wife. He was as unlike Sir Oliver in body as in soul. He was comely in a
very gentle, almost womanish way; his complexion was fair and delicate,
his hair golden, and his eyes of a deep blue. He had a very charming
stripling grace--for he was but in his twenty-first year--and he dressed
with all the care of a Court-gallant.

"Has that whelp Godolphin been to visit you?" he asked as he entered.

"Aye," growled Sir Oliver. "He came to tell me some things and to hear
some others in return."

"Ha. I passed him just beyond the gates, and he was deaf to my greeting.
'Tis a most cursed insufferable pup."

"Art a judge of men, Lal." Sir Oliver stood up booted. "I am for
Arwenack to exchange a compliment or two with Sir John."

His tight-pressed lips and resolute air supplemented his words so well
that Lionel clutched his arm.

"You're not... you're not...?"

"