"Say rather the victim and scapegoat of other men's plots," protested
Langston.

"Come, come, sirs," says Talbot, "we'll have no high words here on
what Heaven only knoweth. Poor lady she is, in all sooth, if
sackless; poorer still if guilty; so I know not what matter there is
for falling out about. In any sort, I will not have it at my table."
He spoke with the authority of the captain of a ship, and the two
visitors, scarce knowing it, submitted to his decision of manner, but
the harmony of the evening seemed ended. Cuthbert Langston soon rose
to bid good-night, first asking his cousin at what hour he proposed
to set forth for the Spurn, to which Richard briefly replied that it
depended on what had to be done as to the repairs of the ship.

The clergyman tarried behind him to say, "Master Talbot, I marvel
that so godly a man as you have ever been should be willing to
harbour one so popishly affected, and whom many suspect of being a
seminary priest."

"Master Heatherthwayte," returned the captain, "my kinsman is my
kinsman, and my house is my house. No offence, sir, but I brook not
meddling."

The clergyman protested that no offence was intended, only caution,
and betook himself to his own bare chamber, high above. No sooner
was he gone than Captain Talbot again became absorbed in the
endeavour to spell out the mystery of the scroll, with his elbows on
the table and his hands over his ears, nor did he look up till he was
touched by his wife, when he uttered an impatient demand what she
wanted now.