13/24 Wilding, nominally, at least, was master of that which Sir Rowland coveted; not her heart, indeed, but her ample fortune. Wilding had been a stumbling-block to him since he had come to Bridgwater; but for Wilding he might have run a smooth course; he was still fool enough to hug that dear illusion to his soul. Somewhere in England--if not dead already--this Wilding lurked, an outlaw, whom any might shoot down at sight. Sir Rowland swore he would not rest until he knew that Anthony Wilding cumbered the earth no more--leastways, not the surface of it. The merchant had sent his message to the rebel King, and had word in answer that His Majesty would be graciously pleased to sup at Mr.Newlington's at nine o'clock on the following evening, attended by a few gentlemen of his immediate following. |