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
"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 ...?"
"I am." And affectionately, as if to soothe the lad's obvious alarm, he patted his brother's
shoulder. "Sir John," he explained, "talks too much. 'Tis a fault that wants correcting. I go
to teach him the virtue of silence."