Next to Hugh Dalton, no man possessed so unbounded, and, so apparently,
unaccountable, an influence over Sir Robert Cecil as Sir Willmott
Burrell: he knew, as we have elsewhere stated, many of his secrets, and
shrewdly guessed at others of more weighty import; while, with the ready
sagacity of an accomplished knave, he contrived to appear well
acquainted with matters of which he was altogether ignorant, but the
existence of which he had abundant reasons for suspecting. The enfeebled
health and growing infirmities of the baronet rendered him an easy prey
to his wily acquaintance, who, driven to his last resource, resolved
upon adopting any course that might save him from destruction, by
inducing Sir Robert, not only to sanction, but command an immediate
marriage with his daughter.
In commencing the conversation with Burrell, Sir Robert peevishly
complained of the annoyance to which he had been subjected in receiving
and accommodating the young friend of Major Wellmore, although he
abstained from the indulgence of feelings similar to those he had
exhibited in the presence of his daughter. He then murmured bitterly of
sleepless nights--of restless days--of watchings and weariness--of
hideous dreams--of the toils, turmoils, and unfaithfulness of the
world--the usual theme of those who have done nothing to merit its
fidelity; and, as Sir Willmott Burrell looked upon him, he marvelled at
the change that but a few weeks had wrought in his appearance; his mind
seemed so enfeebled, that he deemed it even more altered than his body.
He was, moreover, much astonished to find that he dwelt so little upon
his recent and most heavy loss; for the attachment between Sir Robert
Cecil and his wife had been remarkable at a time when domestic happiness
was even the court fashion. But here Burrell was at fault; he knew
nothing of the position in which Sir Robert at present stood with regard
to Hugh Dalton, and was therefore ignorant of the positive peril by
which he was encompassed: a peril so great and so immediate, as to
render him, in a degree, insensible to the affliction under which he had
so recently and so painfully laboured. Often, in his dreary night
watches, when sleep set no seal upon his aching lids, or when they
closed for a little over the strained and worn eyeballs, and then opened
in terror at frightful images that haunted his fevered fancy--often, at
such times had he endeavoured to offer up a thanksgiving, that she was
gone from the wrath, the avenging horrors--the approach of which he
dreaded a thousand times more than death.
The application that had been made to the Protector for Dalton's pardon,
had been treated as he expected; and his only chance of accomplishing
the object of the Buccaneer, now rested on the possibility of his
gaining over certain persons of the court, to exert their influence with
Cromwell in the outlaw's behalf. Sir Robert's personal interest did not
extend far, but the influence of his gold did. The Protector could free
himself from outward sinners, but he could not rid himself of the more
smooth, and consequently more dangerous, villains, generated by the
peculiar forms and habits of the times. To some of these, Sir Robert had
secretly offered temptation in every way: the stake was large, the
danger certain; for he well knew the inflexibility of Dalton's
character, and that he would not fail to perform that upon which he had
resolved. It had occurred to him, more than once, to consult Burrell on
the subject; but a dread of his future son-in-law, for which he could
not account, had hitherto prevented his naming to him the Buccaneer's
desire to be a legalised commander. His anxiety to carry his point now,
however, overcame his timidity, and he resolved to speak to him on the
matter, at the very time the knight had decided on addressing the
baronet--under equal weighty circumstances--on the subject of his
marriage. Unfortunately for Sir Robert Cecil, he was the first to unfold
his plan; and thus gave the wily Burrell another and a firmer hold than
he had yet possessed. After repinings over his health, and murmurs
against mankind, had somewhat lessened that secret and consuming misery
that enveloped him as with a winding sheet, he inquired if Burrell had
lately encountered a man they must both remember,--Hugh Dalton,--a bold,
but reckless fellow, who had played cavalier, buccaneer, and a thousand
other characters in turn--all characters, in fact, save that of a
coward. Burrell replied in the negative; but confessed he knew the man
had been upon the coast; cunningly adding, that since his affections had
been so entirely fixed upon Constantia, he had given up every
connection, every idea, that might hereafter draw him from a home where
all blessings would be united.