Sir Humphrey was a well-set young gentleman, and he was dressed in
the farthest fashion. The broad back of his scarlet coat, rising to
the trot of his horse, clashed through the soft gold-green mists and
radiances of the spring landscape like the blare of a trumpet; his
gold buttons glittered; the long plume on his hat ruffled to the
wind over his fair periwig. Wigs were not so long in fashion, but
Sir Humphrey was to the front in his. Mary Cavendish and Sir
Humphrey rode on abreast, and I behind far enough to be cleared of
the mire thrown by their horse-hoofs, and my heart was full of that
demon of jealousy which possessed me in spite of my love. It is
passing strange that I, though loving Mary Cavendish better than
myself, and having the strength to prefer her to myself in all
things, yet had not the power to do it without pain, and must hold
that ravening jealousy to my breast. But not once did it get the
better of me, and all the way was I, even then, thinking that Sir
Humphrey Hyde might be good man and true for Mary Cavendish to wed,
except for a few faults of his youth, which might be amended, and
that if such be her mind I might help her to her happiness, since I
knew that, for some reason, Madam Cavendish had small love for Sir
Humphrey, and I knew also that I had some influence with her.
Behind us straggled the black slaves, as on our way thither, moving
unhaltingly, yet with small energy, as do folk urged hither and yon
only by the will of others and not by their own; but, presently,
through them, scattering them to the left and right, galloped a
black lad on a great horse after Sir Humphrey, with the word that
his mother would have him return to the church and escort her
homeward. Then Sir Humphrey turned, after a whispered word or two
with Mistress Mary, and rode back to Jamestown; and the black lad,
bounding in the saddle like a ball, after him.
I still kept my distance behind Mistress Mary, though often I saw
her head turn, and caught a blue flash of an eye over her mask.
Then passed us, booted and spurred, for he had gotten his priestly
robes off in a hurry, Parson Downs on the fastest horse in those
parts, and riding like a jockey in spite of his heavy weight. His
horse's head was stretched in a line with his neck, and after him
rode, at near as great speed, Capt. Noel Jaynes, who, as report had
it, had won wealth on the high seas in unlawful fashion. He was a
gray old man, with the eye of a hot-headed boy, and a sabre-cut
across his right cheek.