nd presently the company about the
market-cross was enlarged.

Drake, after his hearty fashion, clapped his arm about Sir John's
shoulder, calling him "dear Nevil." Arden, with whom he had slighter
acquaintance, he also greeted, while Powell was his "good Powell, his
trusty Anthony." There was a slight shifting in the smaller group, Nevil
by a backward step or two bringing into line the man who stood beside
the litter. Drake turned. "Give you godden, Sir Mortimer Ferne! Our
hearty thanks, moreover, for the good service you have done us."

He spoke loudly, that all might hear. If beneath the bluff
good-fellowship of word and voice there was any undercurrent of coldness
or misliking, only one or two, besides the man who bowed to him in
silence, might guess it. By now every man about the market-cross was at
attention. Rumors had been rife that day. Neither at home in England nor
here in Spanish dominions was there English soldier or sailor who knew
not name and record of Sir Mortimer Ferne. Among the adventurers about
the market-cross were not lacking men who in old days had viewed,
admired, envied, and, for final tribute, contemned him. These broke
ranks, pressing as closely as was mannerly towards the group about the
litter. All gaped at Drake's words of amity, at Sir John Nevil's grave
smile, and Carlisle's friendly face, but most of all at that one who had
been the peer of great captains, but who now stood amongst them
undetached, ghost-like, a visitant from the drear world of the
dishonored dead. The palm-trees edging the square began to wave and
rustle in the wind; the youth upon the litter moved restlessly, uttering
moaning and incomprehensible words. Drake was speaking to Arden and
others of the gentlemen adventurers.

"What ails you?" murmured Nevil, at Ferne's ear. "There is sweat upon
your forehead, and you hold yourself as rigid as the dead. Your touch is
icy cold."

"I burn," answered the other, in as low a tone. "Let us go hence."

Nevil motioned to the bearers, who raised the litter and began again
their progress across the square. Drake turned from those to whom he had
been speaking. "Will ye be going? You shall sup with us to-night, John
Nevil! Master Arden, I do desire your better acquaintance. Captain
Powell, you will stay with me who have some words for your ear. Sir
Mortimer Ferne, I trust you will recover your servant, as you have
recovered so many of our poor fellows"--his voice dropped until it