Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell (чтение книг .txt) 📗

him.”

“I hope we may be, sir,” replied Doctor Syn. “For my part, I shall

depart from the usual custom of my cloth and buckle on my father’s

sword.”

“But however brave your steel,” cautioned Sir Henry, “see that it is

tempered with good caution, for to make enmity with a noted duelist is

no light undertaking.”

“At the worst, sir, I should not be unprepared,” replied the Doctor,

“for since taking orders I have never given up the practice of many

accomplishments. In riding, fence and marksmanship I have been in

continual training, and with right upon my side and a reasonable amount

of luck, backed by mine own skill, I have yet to meet a man whom in a

righteous quarrel I should avoid.”

“And since Christ in Holy Writ that He brought a sword to the Earth,

I fail to see why His own parsons should be scorned to be skilled in

‘em,” said the Squire of Lympne solemnly.

After which understanding between these two gentlemen, Doctor Syn

went to join the ladies.

And long after the Squire of Lympne had despatched his rider with the

letter for Sir Charles Cobtree upon Romney Marsh, the early night stars

played their romantic parts upon the terrace of the Castle, so that when

a last good-nights were said in the corridors of Lympne, Doctor Syn was

confident that his authority with the Spanish ladies went a little

further than mere escort, for Imogene gave him cause to believe that

their families were almost united. Certain it was that Doctor Syn

desired no better.

The n ext day the faithful coachman to Sir Henry reported to his

master that the expedition to Dymchurch-under-the-Wall was a great

success. His “Everything -seems-very-promising-your-Honour” was

optimistic news to Sir Henry, and it did the coachman no harm in

reporting it, for Sir Henry, despite his gout, was still romantically

inclined, and happened to be fond of both his young Spanish guest and

the brilliant nephew of his own attorney Solomon Syn.

- 16 -

Imogene loved Dymchurch, and all the good folks she met there. Sir

Charles Cobtree went out of his way to make the place seem attractive to

her.

“Persuade young Christopher to marry, my dear, and then tell him to

leave Oxford and retire here as our Vicar. The people need a married

parson here. Our pr esent incumbent wishes to retire. Well, he is old,

I’ll admit. But I’ve badgered the old fellow to stay on till my good

young friend is ready to take his place. Let him bring Dymchurch a

Vicar’s wife, and the living’s his.”

“I love it all, my Christopher,” she whispered on the ride back to

Lympne beneath the stars, “But oh, my dear, your little churches, and

your great ones too, of the Protestant Faith are so very plain and dull

compared with the glories of ours. But I love you, dear. Yes, I put

you before religion.”

“But could you change your faith for mine?” asked the parson.

“Oh, but I could do more for you than ever the stupid poor dear

headstrong Nicholas did for me,” she answered. “If he could change his

faith for mine because of love, cannot my love

make me change mine too, because I happen so to think of you? My church

is now you, and my faith and ritual is my love for you. Do you love me

as well?”

“I think I would give up all for you,” he answered. “But you could

never ask me to give up faith and honour. You also could never give up

honour, and I do not ask you to give up your own country’s faith.”

“But I shall, and of my own free will; and yes, because of you. But

you must still allow me to think that the churches of the Pr otestants

are, oh, so dull!”

“Your presence in them will make them the more lively,” he smiles

back.

But that speech of hers he was destined to remember through the

twenty years’ Odyssey of bitterness.

However, there was no thought of bitterness d uring the blessed week,

so skillfully prepared by the Squire of Lympne, and certainly no

bitterness in that long ride beside the coach to Oxford. A face at the

coach window. A beloved rider outside. A loyal companion in the

handsome Tony Cobtree, who lingered for his friend’s sake, although so

impatient to reach their goal for his own ends. A long, romantic

journey, and no mishap to mar it. But everything to make it wonderful.

Romance and Love. Until at last Doctor Syn rides out to Iffley to inform

the Squire that his betrothed, one Imogene Almago, and her mother are

awaiting to receive him in their lodgings at Oxford, and that their

attorney will be there at his convenience any morning to discuss

business.

Chapter 3

Doctor Syn Escapes

The large mansion at Iffley stood in its town distinctive grounds,

and was hidden by trees. A high wall ran round three sides, and the

river completed the circle of defense upon the fourth.

Doctor Syn rode to the Lodge gates, and without dismounting rang the

bell. A forbidding-looking man-servant came out from the Lodge and asked

him his business. He opened one side of the great gates with an ill

grace, and Doctor Syn noted that he looked it again directly he has

passed through.

- 17 -

Now, it so happened that the Squire of Iffley had heard that Doctor

Syn had forbidden his pupils to play cards or dice, and as this had been

one of the Bully’s sources of income, he was enraged to see the cause of

his disappointment riding up the drive.

Bully Tappitt did not wait for his servant to open the front door.

He opened it himself, and, grabbing a heavy whip from a handy peg,

strode out in a fine rage on to the porch steps.

“And what the devil brings you here?” he asked brusquely. “I thought

you had warned your companions against visiting me. However, if you are

here to play behind their backs, I am your man, with cards or dice in

secret.”

“I am not here for gaming, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, without

dismounting. “I bring you a message from a lady.”

“The devil you do,” laughed the Squire. “Come in your official

position as a parson, no doubt. Well, understand that I am not paying

compensation to any woman who has had the privilege of my attentions.”

“There is no question of attentions in this case, sir,” replied

Doctor Syn coldly. “You have not had the honour of meeting the lady in

question, and she will only extend you that honour in the presence of

myself and her English legal adviser, Mr. Antony Cobtree. She will

receive you at White Friars House, St. Giles’, tomorrow at noon, if you

desire to interview her concerning your nephew’s affairs in Spain.”

“Are you talking of the Almago women from Madrid?” asked Tappitt.

“I have the honour to be speaking on behalf of the Senora Almago,

sir.”

“Are they in Oxford, then?” he demanded.

“They are, sir,” went on Syn. “I myself have lodged them with the

good woman who lets the apartments I named.”

“But they were to come here. What the devil!” exploded the Squire.

“Why are they not here? I invited them.”

“Pardon me, sir. The invitation was null and void, and under the

circumstances demanded no reply.” Doctor Syn spoke quietly, but with a

cold disdain. “The letter did not come from you. It came, in fact, from

nobody, for, as I pointed out to my good friends at Lampne Castle, and

have since confirmed it, there is no such person as Elinor Tappitt, wife

to the Squire of Iffley. You are a bachelor.”

“And who are you to interfere with my schemes —” started the Squire.