“Captain, I have had for a few moments a most terrible struggle in my mind. “Honour and duty have alternately presented themselves to my imagination, but I have at last concluded that I can, by fulfilling what you require of me, keep the one unspotted without departing from the other. “I will take the oath demanded. “Your humanity and sense of honour have brought me to this determination, which fear or threats could not have extorted from me.” He awaited with impatience the captain’s return, who in about an hour re-entered and took his seat at table. Ned then handed him the letter he had just written. The captain cast a rapid glance over the contents, and rising bade Ned Warbeck lift up his hand, and solemnly take the oath. This done, he stepped towards him, and restored to him his sword, in token of freedom. He gave him also two guides, who led him quickly for about six or seven hundred yards, under immense arches formed by nature, and brought him out near a torrent bordered by a thicket of brushwood. Two horses were here in readiness for Ned Warbeck and Tim. As they mounted to ride away, their conductors said, in solemn, warning tones, “Remember your oath!” “I will,” said Ned, in an undertone. He and Tim rode rapidly away. CHAPTER XXXI. SIR ANDREW APPEARS IN A NEW CHARACTER—HIS DESIGNS ON DAME WORTHINGTON’S PROPERTY—HE CLAIMS RELATIONSHIP—THE POISONED DRAUGHTS—THE OLD DAME’S SAD EXPERIENCE IN THE WORLD—A STRANGER COMES UPON THE SCENE—NEWS FROM NED WARBECK. There was some mystery attached to old Dame Worthington, Sir Richard Warbeck, and his two adopted nephews, Charley and Wildfire Ned. What this mystery was, no one could find out; but Mistress Haylark swore in her own heart that there _must_ be one, and she would have given her finger-ends to have found it out. All that we can say at present is that, in her youth and prime, good Dame Worthington must have been a great beauty, for even now she bore traces of it. All we know for a positive fact is that, when rather over thirty, she condescended to marry a sea captain, who, through Sir Richard Warbeck’s influence at the India House, had the command of a brig. There were no children from the marriage and old Worthington proved a worthless drunken fellow, and, when in his cups, gave way to all manner of extravagances. His jealous, uproarious disposition was fully manifested upon every possible occasion when ashore. When drunk he would lie on the sofa and sing uproarious songs all night, to the infinite disgust of fellow lodgers. When, perhaps, only half inebriated, and tempted as usual by jealousy, he would toss the furniture about and break all the crockery. So that, everything considered, his absence was far more preferable than his presence.