What was to be done in default was not spoken; for down went poor old Vindex on his knees:—­

“Oh, Sir Richard!  Excellentissime, immo praecelsissime Domine et Senator, I promise!  O sir, Miles et Eques of the Garter, Bath, and Golden Fleece, consider your dignities, and my old age—­and my great family—­nine children—­oh, Sir Richard, and eight of them girls!—­Do eagles war with mice? says the ancient!”

“Thy large family, eh?  How old is that fat-witted son of thine?”

“Sixteen, Sir Richard; but that is not his fault, indeed!”

“Nay, I suppose he would be still sucking his thumb if he dared—­get up, man—­get up and seat yourself.”

“Heaven forbid!” murmured poor Vindex, with deep humility.

“Why is not the rogue at Oxford, with a murrain on him, instead of lurching about here carrying tales and ogling the maidens?”

“I had hoped, Sir Richard—­and therefore I said it was not his fault—­but there was never a servitorship at Exeter open.”

“Go to, man—­go to!  I will speak to my brethren of the Trust, and to Oxford he shall go this autumn, or else to Exeter gaol, for a strong rogue, and a masterless man.  Do you hear?”

“Hear?—­oh, sir, yes! and return thanks.  Jack shall go, Sir Richard, doubt it not—­I were mad else; and, Sir Richard, may I go too?”

And therewith Vindex vanished, and Sir Richard enjoyed a second mighty laugh, which brought in Lady Grenville, who possibly had overheard the whole; for the first words she said were—­

“I think, my sweet life, we had better go up to Burrough.”

So to Burrough they went; and after much talk, and many tears, matters were so concluded that Amyas Leigh found himself riding joyfully towards Plymouth, by the side of Sir Richard, and being handed over to Captain Drake, vanished for three years from the good town of Bideford.

And now he is returned in triumph, and the observed of all observers; and looks round and round, and sees all faces whom he expects, except one; and that the one which he had rather see than his mother’s?  He is not quite sure.  Shame on himself!

And now the prayers being ended, the rector ascends the pulpit, and begins his sermon on the text:—­

“The heaven and the heaven of heavens are the Lord’s; the whole earth hath he given to the children of men;” deducing therefrom craftily, to the exceeding pleasure of his hearers, the iniquity of the Spaniards in dispossessing the Indians, and in arrogating to themselves the sovereignty of the tropic seas; the vanity of the Pope of Rome in pretending to bestow on them the new countries of America; and the justice, valor, and glory of Mr. Drake and his expedition, as testified by God’s miraculous protection of him and his, both in the Straits of Magellan, and in his battle with the Galleon; and last, but not least, upon the rock by Celebes, when the Pelican lay for hours firmly fixed, and was floated off unhurt, as it were by miracle, by a sudden shift of wind.