In my grief and perplexity I spoke to my
father, telling him how the matter stood and asking his help.
'I go hence,' I said, 'to avenge our common loss, and if need be to give
my life for the honour of our name. Aid me then in this.'
'My neighbour Bozard means his daughter for your brother Geoffrey, and
not for you, Thomas,' he answered; 'and a man may do what he wills with
his own. Still I will help you if I can, at the least he cannot drive me
from his door. Bid them bring horses, and we will ride to the Hall.'
Within the half of an hour we were there, and my father asked for speech
with its master. The serving man looked at me askance, remembering his
orders, still he ushered us into the justice room where the Squire sat
drinking ale.
'Good morrow to you, neighbour,' said the Squire; 'you are welcome here,
but you bring one with you who is not welcome, though he be your son.'
'I bring him for the last time, friend Bozard. Listen to his request,
then grant it or refuse it as you will; but if you refuse it, it will
not bind us closer. The lad rides to-night to take ship for Spain to
seek that man who murdered his mother. He goes of his own free will
because after the doing of the deed it was he who unwittingly suffered
the murderer to escape, and it is well that he should go.'
'He is a young hound to run such a quarry to earth, and in a strange
country,' said the Squire.
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