Chapter X.
"_Mar_. Shall I strike at it with my partizan.
_Hor_. Do, if it will not stand.
_Mar_. 'Tis here!
_Hor_. 'Tis here!
_Mar_. 'Tis gone!"
Hamlet.
The time that this unexpected visiter stood uncloaked and exposed to
recognition, before the eyes of the curious group in the outer room, did
not much exceed a minute. Still it was long enough to allow men who rarely
overlooked the smallest peculiarity of dress or air, to note some of the
more distinguishing accompaniments of his attire. The heavy horseman's
pistols, once before exhibited, were in his girdle, and young Mark got a
glimpse of a silver-handled dagger which had pleased his eye before that
night. But the passage of his grandfather and the stranger from the room
prevented the boy from determining whether it was entirely of the same
fashion as that, which, rather as a memorial of by-gone scenes than for
any service that it might now be expected to perform, hung above the bed
of the former.
"The man hath not yet parted with his arms!" exclaimed the quick-sighted
youth, when he found that every other tongue continued silent.
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