“But then you are not acquainted with His Majesty,” said Roxhythe.
There the matter ended, but it left a great impression on Christopher’s mind. It was from that moment that his everlasting love for Roxhythe had birth.
A week later they were aboard a sailing ship bound for Flushing. Nothing could have been more devoid of interest than their passage.
At Flushing they stayed at the Sceptre Inn, and Christopher, once recovered from his seasickness, resumed his effervescent joie de vivre and started to look about him. He had little or nothing to do, as Roxhythe hardly ever desired his company, so when he met Mr. Edward Milward he was pleased.
He stepped on his toe as he passed him in the coffee-room and apologized in excruciating Dutch. Whereupon Mr. Milward fell into his arms, metaphorically speaking, and called him friend. It appeared that Mr. Milward had not seen a fellow-countryman for months; naturally he was delighted to meet Christopher. They partook of sack together.
Mr. Milward was a great traveller. He was even now on his way to the Hague, where he intended to stay for an indefinite period. He had lately been in Italy. Altogether he had much to tell Christopher. In fact he was a remarkably pleasant companion and Christopher liked him.
Roxhythe returned next day from Middleburgh, where he had been visiting friends, to find his secretary full of his newfound acquaintance.
Christopher confided that Mr. Milward was a remarkably interesting man who had seen much, and who had much to say.
“Ask him to honour us at dinner,” suggested Roxhythe good-naturedly.
So it came about that Mr. Milward supped in my Lord Roxhythe’s private parlour and enjoyed himself exceedingly.
It seemed to Christopher that Roxhythe was not himself. He was, if possible, even more languid than usual, and once or twice he rested his head in his hand as though it ached intolerably. Taxed with it, he roused himself with an effort, denying that he was at all unwell.
“I do trust you have not caught some low fever, sir!” exclaimed Dart anxiously.
Roxhythe laughed the idea to scorn, but he excused himself at an early hour, leaving his secretary to entertain the guest.
“Lord Roxhythe hath the air of a sick man,” remarked Milward, and nodded wisely.
Christopher strove to conceal his anxiety.
“We had intended to ride to Bergen tomorrow,” he said. “But I fear my lord will not be well enough to sit the saddle.”
“To Bergen? Why, I was to have ridden there today but that my horse cast a shoe! I had decided to remain here some few days, but if you go tomorrow, why—!” He left the sentence unfinished.
Christopher was polite, but not enthusiastic.
Later he visited Roxhythe, and found him in bed. He stood looking at him, full of concern, until my lord begged him to be seated. He could never bear an unrestful companion.
Christopher sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I doubt you’ll not sit the saddle tomorrow, sir,” he said gravely.
“Art a pessimist,” was the lazy response. “What of your friend Milward?”
“ ’Tis of him that I wish to speak.” Christopher wrinkled his brow in perplexity. “He—he wants to ride with us tomorrow.”
The brown eyes opened.
“Does he so? Well … we shall not be lonely.”
“I did not know—that is, I rather thought you would prefer to ride alone, sir.”
The eyes closed again.
“By all means let the man come. What of it?”
“Naught, sir. I only thought—”
“Oh, ay, ay! God’s Body, but my head’s afire! Go you to bed, Christopher!”
Christopher rose reluctantly.
“There’s nothing I can do for you, sir?”
His fine white hand was across Roxhythe’s forehead, shading the upper part of his face, but Christopher saw his lips curve.
“Poor Chris! You shall not be called upon to play body-servant as well as secretary!”
“I would do aught I could for you, sir!”
The hand moved away. Christopher looked straight into my lord’s eyes.
“Then go to bed,” said that sleepy voice. “And Christopher!”
Christopher paused. He was drawing the curtains about the bed.
“Well?” he smiled.
“Don’t worry your head over me!”
Outside the room Dart met Roxhythe’s servant.
“I fear his lordship is a sick man, John,” he said. “And he will not own it.”
The man looked at him curiously for a moment. Then he grunted.
Rather to Christopher’s surprise he found Roxhythe already dressed next morning when he went to his room. My lord was in the act of fastening a diamond pin in his cravat when the tap fell on the door, and his glance as he met Christopher’s eyes in the mirror was one of pure amusement.
“You thought to find me abed, my friend,” he remarked.
“Yes,” admitted Christopher. “But I rejoice to find you up. You are better, sir?”
“I am well enough,” shrugged his lordship. He gave a final touch to his ribbons, and turned. “Well, to breakfast—and the amiable Mr. Milward.”
“You had rather he did not ride with us?” asked Christopher quickly.
“On the contrary,” smiled Roxhythe.
Thus it came to pass that Mr. Milward joined the little cavalcade and did much to beguile the tedium of the journey with his sparkling conversation. He had a fair knowledge of the country and he spoke Dutch perfectly, so Roxhythe, whose Dutch was fluent enough but hopelessly marred by his English accent, allowed him to parley with the landlords of the inns at which they halted.
Christopher, whose first visit abroad this was, greatly enjoyed the ride. He drank in every fresh sight and sound with avidity; nothing escaped his notice; his eyes were on everything. Roxhythe regarded him thoughtfully.
Now and again Christopher glanced at his lordship with a worried eye. He saw how he flagged, how weary were his movements, but guessing that Roxhythe did not wish him to call attention to his indisposition, he held his peace.
For some time Roxhythe talked inanities to Mr. Milward. Christopher wished that he need not appear so foolish, and fretted. The lazy eyes never looked his way.
Presently Roxhythe spoke of his disgrace at Court. Mr. Milward’s tact was most praiseworthy. Roxhythe explained that he must needs absent himself from
