now will
you go? The dead and I hold Ferne House of nights. To-morrow come again
and say good-by."

"I will sail with you to the Indies, Mortimer," said the visitor.

There was silence in the room; then, "No, no," answered Ferne, in a
strange voice. "No, no."

Arden persisted, speaking rapidly, carrying it off with sufficient
lightness. "He was just home from Ireland and stood in need of the sun.
His cousin wanted him not; John Nevil was in the north and had helpers
enough. The slaying of Spaniards was at once good service and good
sport. Best take him along for old time's sake. Indeed, he asked no
better than to go--" On and on he talked, until, looking up, his speech
was cut short by the aspect of the man before him.

If in every generation the house of Ferne, father and son, could wear a
dark face when occasion warranted, certainly in this moment that of the
latest of his race was dark indeed. "And at the first pinch be betrayed.
Awake, or here, or there, in the torments of Spain or in another world!
Awake and curse me by all your gods! Speak not to me--I am not hungry
for a friend! I have no faith to pledge against your trust! The rabble
which await me upon my ship, I have bought them with my gold, and they
know me, who I am. For Robin--God help the boy! He had a fever, and he
would not cease his cries until I sware not to part from him. Robin,
Robin! Master Arden will take horse! Go, Arden, go! or as God lives I
will strike you where you stand. No,--no hand-touching! Can you not see
that you heat the iron past all bearing? A moment since and I could have
sworn I saw behind you Henry Sedley! Go, go!"

He sank upon the settle beneath the window, and buried his head in his
arms. For a long minute Arden stood with a drawn face, then turning,
left the house and left the place, for the knowledge was borne in upon
him that here and now friendship could give no aid. When, half an hour
later, he arrived at the Blue Swan in the neighboring town and called
for _aqua-vitae_, mine host, jolly and round and given over to
facetiousness, swore that to look so white and bewitched-like the
gentleman must have gathered mandrakes from Ferne church-yard, or have
dined with the traitor knight himself.

That same afternoon, when the rays of the sun were lower, Ferne went
into his garden and lifted his bared brow, that perchance the air might
cool it. It was the quiet hour when the goal of the sun is in view, and
the shadows of th