Thereupon Master Mervale gasped, and turning with a great sob, ran through the gardens. The marquis laughed discordantly; then he followed, taking big leaps as he ran and flourishing his sword.
"Oh, the coward!" he shouted; "Oh, the milk-livered rogue! Oh, you paltry rabbit!"
So they came to the bank of the artificial pond. Master Mervale swerved as with an oath the marquis pounced at him. Master Mervale's foot caught in the root of a great willow, and Master Mervale splashed into ten feet of still water, that glistened like quicksilver in the sunlight.
"Oh, Saint Gregory!" the marquis cried, and clasped his sides in noisy mirth; "was there no other way to cool your courage? Paddle out and be flogged, Master Hare-heels!" he called. The boy had come to the surface and was swimming aimlessly, parallel to the bank. "Now I have heard," said the marquis, as he walked beside him, "that water swells a man. Pray Heaven, it may swell his heart a thousandfold or so, and thus hearten him for wholesome exercise after his ducking--a friendly thrust or two, a little judicious bloodletting to ward off the effects of the damp."
The marquis started as Master Mervale grounded on a shallow and rose, dripping, knee-deep among the lily-pads. "Oh, splendor of God!" cried the marquis.
Master Mervale had risen from his bath almost clean-shaven; only one sodden half of his mustachios clung to his upper lip, and as he rubbed the water from his eyes, this remaining half also fell away from the boy's face.
"Oh, splendor of God!" groaned the marquis. He splashed noisily into the water. "O Kate, Kate!" he cried, his arms about Master Mervale. "Oh, blind, blind, blind! O heart's dearest! Oh, my dear, my dear!" he observed.
Master Mervale slipped from his embrace and waded to dry land. "My lord,--" he began, demurely.
"My lady wife,--" said his lordship of Falmouth, with a tremulous smile. He paused, and passed his hand over his brow. "And yet I do not understand," he said. "Y'are dead; y'are buried. It was a frightened boy I struck." He spread out his strong arms. "O world! O sun! O stars!" he cried; "she is come back to me from the grave. O little world! small shining planet! I think that I could crush you in my hands!"
"Meanwhile," Master Mervale suggested, after an interval, "it is I that you are crushing." He sighed,--though not very deeply,--and continued, with a hiatus: "They would have wedded me to Lucius Rossmore, and I could not--I could not--"