ght up a crew of
children who could boast of a pedigree of idolaters and tyrants, hunters
of Indians, and torturers of women! How pleasant to hear her telling
Master Jack, 'Your illustrious grand-uncle the pope's legate, was
the man who burned Rose Salterne at Cartagena;' or Miss Grace, 'Your
great-grandfather of sixteen quarterings, the Marquis of this, son of
the Grand-equerry that, and husband of the Princess t'other, used to
feed his bloodhounds, when beef was scarce, with Indians' babies!' Eh,
mother? These things are true, and if you can forget them, I cannot. Is
it not enough to have made me forego for awhile my purpose, my business,
the one thing I live for, and that is, hunting down the Spaniards as I
would adders or foxes, but you must ask me over and above to take one to
my bosom?"

"Oh, my son, my son! I have not asked you to do that; I have only
commanded you, in God's name, to be merciful, if you wish to obtain
mercy. Oh, if you will not pity this poor maiden, pity yourself; for God
knows you stand in more need of it than she does!"

Amyas was silent for a minute or two; and then,--

"If it were not for you, mother, would God that the Armada would come!"

"What, and ruin England?"

"No! Curse them! Not a foot will they ever set on English soil, such a
welcome would we give them. If I were but in the midst of that fleet,
fighting like a man--to forget it all, with a galleon on board of me to
larboard, and another to starboard--and then to put a linstock in the
magazine, and go aloft in good company--I don't care how soon it comes,
mother, if it were not for you."

"If I am in your way, Amyas, do not fear that I shall trouble you long."

"Oh, mother, mother, do not talk in that way! I am half-mad, I think,
already, and don't know what I say. Yes, I am mad; mad at heart, though
not at head. There's a fire burning me up, night and day, and nothing
but Spanish blood will put it out."

"Or the grace of God, my poor wilful child! Who comes to the door?--so
quickly, too?"

There was a loud hurried knocking, and in another minute a serving-man
hurried in with a letter.

"This to Captain Amyas Leigh with haste, haste!"

It was Sir Richard's hand. Amyas tore it open; and "a loud laugh laughed
he."

"The Armada is coming! My wish has come true, mother!"

"God help us, it has! Show me the letter."

It was a hurried scrawl.

"DR. GODSON,--Walsingham sends word that the Ada. sailed from Lisbon to
th