There is no getting at what
Freeman really thinks. Coldly, tritely, he sets down the bald, bare
facts of the tragedies that wrecked the Hyndses.
With a strange lack of emotion he chronicles Richard's death, and
adds: "At the Pleasure of God his Birth fell upon a Wednesday, at
Sun-rising, the which was by some Accounted Favourable. His Death
came upon a Friday, at Noone, it Raining heavily."
Then comes his father's sudden death; and this curious item:
"Despite his Anguish & Affliction of Spiritt upon that Date, he did
tell me Part, after the Custom of our House, the morning of my
Twenty-first Birthday. Alas, when he was Stricken, upon the News of
Richard's Demise, he had no Chance to tell me All, nor was there
among his Papers the Keye nor any Clue to It. When J. call'd us, he
was Beyond Speech & shee Hystericall with Affright. Thus the Whole
Secret perishes, since Without the Keye & his Instructions 'twould
be Impossible to Proceed."
* * * * *
"This evening came Capt. B., the worst of the Plundering Crew that
pluck'd Richard. 'Sirrah,' says he, impudently, 'thy Brother owe'd
me three thousand pounds.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243