The old lady took the crimson rose and her fingers trembled slightly, her wise old eyes were almost over-bright as, sweeping him the most graceful Court curtsey, she answered softly: ‘I have heard, sir, that all good Marsh men pay their Scotts and so maintain the ancient Wall, but in truth, sir, you have paid such tribute to an ancient Scot that she will ever try to maintain the friendship that you ask.’ Here, curiously enough, she held out her hands to the two of them.

Cicely watched this touching scene and her heart glowed. She applauded his gesture in thus giving the rose where another girl might have been petty, wanting it for herself; and she was amply rewarded, for, taking from his pocket a single glove, he handed it to her and said: ‘And beneath the tree from which I plucked my solitary symbol of admiration for your aunt I found’ — and here his smile was not devoid of mischief — ‘this solitary glove. I fear you have lost its fellow.’

And so it was that in one morning Doctor Syn had bestowed several trophies, loaning the first to a man he did not like and bestowing the others upon two women that he loved. Aunt Agatha had the jewels which she wanted and a rose she had not expected, and Cicely but one glove for which she had no use, yet hoping that the other lay against his heart she thrilled and valued it the more.

Chapter 15

Doctor Syn Receives an Invitation, and Sends One

If Mr. Bone had experiended difficulty in selecting a suitable gift for a lady, Aunt Agatha appeared to be having equal trouble in the choice of one for the opposite sex. Not that her experience was letting her down, but she could not find anything suitable for a gentleman of his profession amongst all this assortment of feminine fripperies. The jewels so lately returned were spread about over the bed, and she turned over and sorted, and then turned over again the objects she had picked out. Cicely sat perched at the foot, leaning back against the spiral post, giving her opinion every now and then. Proudly pinned at Aunt Agatha’s bosom, fastening her fichu, was the gold brooch set with the crystal head of a dog, whose eyes, peeping out from the frills and flounces, were every bit as bright as those of Mister Pitt, who was watching the proceedings from beneath the bedspread.

‘No, child,’ the old lady laughed, ‘not the gold true-lover’s knot — nor the pearl locket with my hair in it, for it might surprise him somewhat to know that I was once a blonde, since he has only seen me in this hairdresser’s contraption. Oh, Lud, had we but something appertaining to his naughty trade — a tiny pair of gold horse-pistols, a mask with sapphires for the eyes — though,’ she added roguishly, ‘I warrant they would not shine as brightly as his do. But there, we have not even a silver spur, and cannot send him a bracelet made of elephant’s hair, since his activities on horseback on Quarry Hill. Steep as it is, ’tis not comparable to Hannibal’s elephantine ride across the Alps.’

Cicely jumped from the bed, exclaiming, ‘Why, Lud, madame, what a ninny I am! Sitting here watching you rack your brains while I believe I have the very thing. I’ll fetch it for you straight,’ and off she went to her own room, returning in a few minutes with something in her hand. ‘There,’ she said, ‘will not this suit your naughty beau, ma’am? At least it tallies with some of his equipment,’ and she held out for Aunt Agatha’s inspection a golden riding-crop set in the form of a pin, its handle encrusted with diamonds and its thong looped in a true lover’s knot. ‘Pray take it, ma’am. ’Tis one I bought myself, after I had first cleared the broad dyke without a splash.’

Aunt Agatha was delighted. ‘I vow, child, and you are quite to my satisfaction,’ she cried. ‘’Tis, as you say, the very thing, though I observe you are insisting upon my sending a true lover’s knot to the gentleman, you wicked miss. And since I am sending him something that belonged to you, I shall give you something that he returned to me,’ picking from the bed a large velvet case which she handed to the girl. Cicely opened it and saw winking up at her a magnificent set of diamond ornaments — necklace, ear-rings and stars for her hair, and being too excited to speak, could only gaze while the old lady continued: ‘Do you not thank me, child? They were to be yours anyway. But now you can wear them at my birthday party. I told your Mamma that she was to excel herself since it will be my eightieth anniversary, and I think I deserve it for staying the course. I intend to write some of the invitations myself, this afternoon. Now let me see’ — and she looked up at Cicely with a twinkle. ‘Is there not some special gentleman you would like me to ask? A beau from Hythe, or a pretty Dragoon from the garrison at Dover?’ Cicely twinkled back at her, but did not speak. ‘No? Well, there are but two gentlemen that I care about in the vicinity. That dear old Doctor Syn and that sinful young horseman, and I vow I shall invite them both.’

One hour later Miss Gordon’s French maid, who by now had become reconciled to this land below the sea, partly because it was in sight of her beloved France but chiefly because of the flattering attentions of a young groom, went tripping down the village street, Mister Pitt at her heels and two large envelopes in her hand.

As usual, after a certain tune had been played and whistled, no one seemed to be about. Indeed she passed but two people, the first of which, a large woman who in passing her muttered audibly, ‘Goodness, there’s that foreigner! What is Dymchurch coming to?’ — the second, none other than Mr. Mipps, who was locking up his coffin shop, who exclaimed, ‘Why, if it ain’t that there yew-hedged poodle!’ Sweeping his battered three-cornered hat with a flourish, he bowed to the enchanted Lisette, who felt that ‘Marsh’ after all was not so dull, since here was that nice little man whose master had told her not to worry about the Scarecrow. After a deal of excruciating French from Mipps, and much twitterings from Lisette, she gave him the two letters which he promised to deliver — ‘toot sweet’, and hurried back to the stables in hopes of half an hour’s flirtation with her groom.

Mr. Mipps found Doctor Syn was in his library, studying a large map of the Continent. The sight of his old Captain measuring mileage with dividers caused the Sexton to ask hopefully: ‘What yer doin’? Looks like you’re planning to set sail again. Not thinkin’ of ’oistin’ canvas, are you, sir?’

The reply was not what he had expected, having playfully asked the question so many times, and received curt ‘Nos’ or ‘Remember to forget, Mr. Mipps’. This time, however, the calm, ‘Yes, Mr. Mipps — tonight’, made him execute a few well-chosen steps from his intricate hornpipe, until the Vicar’s shattering, ‘Alone, Mr. Mipps, and not what you’re thinking,’ brought him back to earth again, and with a long face he listened to the Vicar’s plans. He brightened, however, as the scheme unfolded and he saw fun ahead, and by the time Doctor Syn had finished he was himself again — full of admiration for his master’s daring idea, as, finishing the hornpipe from where he left off, he took the proffered glass of brandy and drank success to this new enterprise. ‘That’s the best one I’ve heard yet,’ he said. ‘Wish I was a-goin’ with you. Now then, what’s me orders?’

‘To begin with, Mr. Mipps, what ships lie in Rye harbour, ready to sail?’

Mr. Mipps not only had them at his finger-tips but rattled them off — friendly vessels and otherwise — and the Vicar made decision on the Two Brothers. ‘For,’ said he, ‘she’s fast, well armed, and I like her owners and her crew. Get word to them that I shall be aboard before high tide tonight. Tell Jonathan Quested to be at Littlestone with his fishing-smack at dusk. He must sail me round to Rye, for I shall be staying there in my capacity as Dean to visit neighbouring parishes, and will, of course, inform Sir Antony. I shall want you to deliver some letters for me. The one addressed to Captain Foulkes which I shall date the day after tomorrow must be handed to him at the Red Lion on the same day. ’Tis an invitation he is looking for to meet the Scarecrow, though I do not doubt that he will meet more than he bargains for.’ Then, turning away from Mipps and looking in the fire, he took up his pipe and said almost too casually: ‘The other letter I want delivered tonight, when I have gone. ’Tis to Miss Cicely, explaining why I cannot ride with her tomorrow morning.’ He looked over his shoulder and met the Sexton’s quizzical gaze; grinned boyishly and said, ‘’I am to have my first jumping lessons on a proper horse. I fear that I shall never clear the broad dyke as she can.’