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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:12 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:12 -0700 |
| commit | 6571ca39846ef76faa80e283e2c1115ea001d9c2 (patch) | |
| tree | a5d4304ab6827e89d6150eb7f3ab1f42cbf85ee5 /1457-h | |
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diff --git a/1457-h/1457-h.htm b/1457-h/1457-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e48c6e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1457-h/1457-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12603 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mistress Wilding, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1457 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MISTRESS WILDING + </h1> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I — POT-VALIANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II — SIR ROWLAND TO THE RESCUE + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III — DIANA SCHEMES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV — TERMS OF SURRENDER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V — THE ENCOUNTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI — THE CHAMPION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII — THE NUPTIALS OF RUTH + WESTMACOTT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII — BRIDE AND GROOM </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX — MR. TRENCHARD'S + COUNTERSTROKE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X — THEIR OWN PETARD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI — THE MARPLOT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII — AT THE FORD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII — “PRO RELIGIONE ET + LIBERTATE” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV — HIS GRACE' IN COUNSEL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV — LYME OF THE KING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI — PLOTS AND PLOTTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII — MR. WILDING'S RETURN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII — BETRAYAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX — THE BANQUET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX — THE RECKONING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI — THE SENTENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII — THE EXECUTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII — MR. WILDING'S BOOTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV — JUSTICE </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. POT-VALIANCE + </h2> + <p> + Then drink it thus, cried the rash young fool, and splashed the contents + of his cup full into the face of Mr. Wilding even as that gentleman, on + his feet, was proposing to drink to the eyes of the young fool's sister. + </p> + <p> + The moments that followed were full of interest. A stillness, a brooding, + expectant stillness, fell upon the company—and it numbered a round + dozen—about Lord Gervase's richly appointed board. In the soft + candlelight the oval table shone like a deep brown pool, in which were + reflected the gleaming silver and sparkling crystal that seemed to float + upon it. + </p> + <p> + Blake sucked in his nether-lip, his florid face a thought less florid than + its wont, his prominent blue eyes a thought more prominent. Under its + golden periwig old Nick Trenchard's wizened countenance was darkened by a + scowl, and his fingers, long, swarthy, and gnarled, drummed fretfully upon + the table. Portly Lord Gervase Scoresby—their host, a benign and + placid man of peace, detesting turbulence—turned crimson now in + wordless rage. The others gaped and stared—some at young Westmacott, + some at the man he had so grossly affronted—whilst in the shadows of + the hall a couple of lacqueys looked on amazed, all teeth and eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding stood, very still and outwardly impassive, the wine trickling + from his long face, which, if pale, was no paler than its habit, a vestige + of the smile with which he had proposed the toast still lingering on his + thin lips, though departed from his eyes. An elegant gentleman was Mr. + Wilding, tall, and seeming even taller by virtue of his exceeding + slenderness. He had the courage to wear his own hair, which was of a dark + brown and very luxuriant; dark brown too were his sombre eyes, low-lidded + and set at a downward slant. From those odd eyes of his, his countenance + gathered an air of superciliousness tempered by a gentle melancholy. For + the rest, it was scored by lines that stamped it with the appearance of an + age in excess of his thirty years. + </p> + <p> + Thirty guineas' worth of Mechlin at his throat was drenched, empurpled and + ruined beyond redemption, and on the breast of his blue satin coat a dark + patch was spreading like a stain of blood. + </p> + <p> + Richard Westmacott, short, sturdy, and fair-complexioned to the point of + insipidity, watched him sullenly out of pale eyes, and waited. It was Lord + Gervase who broke at last the silence—broke it with an oath, a thing + unusual in one whose nature was almost woman-mild. + </p> + <p> + “As God's my life!” he spluttered wrathfully, glowering at Richard. “To + have this happen in my house! The young fool shall make apology!” + </p> + <p> + “With his dying breath,” sneered Trenchard, and the old rake's words, his + tone, and the malevolent look he bent upon the boy increased the company's + malaise. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Mr. Wilding, with a most singular and excessive sweetness, + “that what Mr. Westmacott has done he has done because he apprehended me + amiss.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he'll say so,” opined Trenchard with a shrug, and had caution + dug into his ribs by Blake's elbow, whilst Richard made haste to prove him + wrong by saying the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “I apprehended you exactly, sir,” he answered, defiance in his voice and + wine-flushed face. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” clucked Trenchard, irrepressible. “He's bent on self-destruction. + Let him have his way, in God's name.” + </p> + <p> + But Wilding seemed intent upon showing how long-suffering he could be. He + gently shook his head. “Nay, now,” said he. “You thought, Mr. Westmacott, + that in mentioning your sister, I did so lightly. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “You mentioned her, and that is all that matters,” cried Westmacott. “I'll + not have her name on your lips at any time or in any place—no, nor + in any manner.” His speech was thick from too much wine. + </p> + <p> + “You are drunk,” cried indignant Lord Gervase with finality. + </p> + <p> + “Pot-valiant,” Trenchard elaborated. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding set down at last the glass which he had continued to hold + until that moment. He rested his hands upon the table, knuckles downward, + and leaning forward he spoke impressively, his face very grave; and those + present—knowing him as they did—were one and all lost in + wonder at his unusual patience. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Westmacott,” said he, “I do think you are wrong to persist in + affronting me. You have done a thing that is beyond forgiveness, and yet, + when I offer you this opportunity of honourably retrieving...” He shrugged + his shoulders, leaving the sentence incomplete. + </p> + <p> + The company might have spared its deep surprise at so much mildness. There + was but the semblance of it. Wilding proceeded thus of purpose set, and + under the calm mask of his long white face his mind worked wickedly and + deliberately. The temerity of Westmacott, whose nature was notoriously + timid, had surprised him for a moment. But anon, reading the boy's mind as + readily as though it had been a scroll unfolded for his instruction, he + saw that Westmacott, on the strength of his position as his sister's + brother, conceived himself immune. Mr. Wilding's avowed courtship of the + lady, the hopes he still entertained of winning her, despite the aversion + she was at pains to show him, gave Westmacott assurance that Mr. Wilding + would never elect to shatter his all too slender chances by embroiling + himself in a quarrel with her brother. And—reading him, thus, aright—Mr. + Wilding put on that mask of patience, luring the boy into greater + conviction of the security of his position. And Richard, conceiving + himself safe in his entrenchment behind the bulwarks of his brothership to + Ruth Westmacott, and heartened further by the excess of wine he had + consumed, persisted in insults he would never otherwise have dared to + offer. + </p> + <p> + “Who seeks to retrieve?” he crowed offensively, boldly looking up into the + other's face. “It seems you are yourself reluctant.” And he laughed a + trifle stridently, and looked about him for applause, but found none. + </p> + <p> + “You are overrash,” Lord Gervase disapproved him harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Not the first coward I've seen grow valiant at a table,” put in Trenchard + by way of explanation, and might have come to words with Blake on that + same score, but that in that moment Wilding spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Reluctant to do what?” he questioned amiably, looking Westmacott so + straightly between the eyes that the boy shifted uneasily on his + high-backed chair. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, still full of confidence in the unassailability of his + position, the mad youth answered, “To cleanse yourself of what I threw at + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Fan me, ye winds!” gasped Nick Trenchard, and looked with expectancy at + his friend Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Now there was one factor with which, in basing with such craven shrewdness + his calculations upon Mr. Wilding's feelings for his sister, young Richard + had not reckoned. He was not to know that Wilding, bruised and wounded by + Miss Westmacott's scorn of him, had reached that borderland where love and + hate are so merged that they are scarce to be distinguished. Embittered by + the slights she had put upon him—slights which his sensitive, + lover's fancy had magnified a hundredfold—Anthony Wilding's frame of + mind was grown peculiar. Of his love she would have none; his kindness she + seemingly despised. So be it; she should taste his cruelty. If she scorned + his wooing and forbade him to pursue it, at least it was not hers to deny + him the power to hurt; and in hurting her that would not be loved by him + some measure of fierce and bitter consolation seemed to await him. + </p> + <p> + He realized, perhaps, not quite all this—and to the unworthiness of + it all he gave no thought. But he realized enough as he toyed, as cat with + mouse, with Richard Westmacott, to know that in striking at her through + the worthless person of this brother whom she cherished—and who + persisted in affording him this opportunity—a wicked vengeance would + be his. + </p> + <p> + Peace-loving Lord Gervase had heaved himself suddenly to his feet at + Westmacott's last words, still intent upon saving the situation. + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven's name...” he began, when Mr. Wilding, ever calm and smiling, + though now a trifle sinister, waved him gently into silence. But that + persisting calm of Mr. Wilding's was too much for old Nick Trenchard. He + rose abruptly, drawing all eyes upon himself. It was time, he thought, he + took a hand in this. + </p> + <p> + In addition to his affection for Wilding and his contempt for Westmacott, + he was filled with a fear that the latter might become dangerous if not + crushed at once. Gifted with a shrewd knowledge of men, acquired during a + chequered life of much sour experience, old Nick instinctively mistrusted + Richard. He had known him for a fool, a weakling, a babbler, and a bibber + of wine. Out of such elements a villain is soon compounded, and Trenchard + had cause to fear the form of villainy that lay ready to Richard's hand. + For it chanced that Mr. Trenchard was second cousin to that famous John + Trenchard, so lately tried for treason and acquitted to the great joy of + the sectaries of the West, and still more lately—but yesterday, in + fact—fled the country to escape the rearrest ordered in consequence + of that excessive joy. Like his more famous cousin, Nick Trenchard was one + of the Duke of Monmouth's most active agents; and Westmacott, like + Wilding, Vallancey, and one or two others at that board, stood, too, + committed to the cause of the Protestant Champion. + </p> + <p> + Out of his knowledge of the boy Trenchard was led to fear that if he were + leniently dealt with now, tomorrow, when, sober, he came to realize the + grossness of the thing he had done and the unlikelihood of its being + forgiven him, there was no saying but that to protect himself he might + betray Wilding's share in the plot that was being hatched. That in itself + would be bad enough; but there might be worse, for he could scarcely + betray Wilding without betraying others and—what mattered most—the + Cause itself. He must be dealt with out of hand, Trenchard opined, and + dealt with ruthlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Anthony,” said he, “that we have had words enough. Shall you be + disposing of Mr. Westmacott to-morrow, or must I be doing it for you?” + </p> + <p> + With a gasp of dismay young Richard twisted in his chair to confront this + fresh and unsuspected antagonist. What danger was this that he had + overlooked? Then, even as he turned, Wilding's voice fell on his ear, and + each word of the few he spoke was like a drop of icy water on Westmacott's + overheated brain. + </p> + <p> + “I protest you are vastly kind, Nick. But I intend, myself, to have the + pleasure of killing Mr. Westmacott.” And his smile fell now in mockery + upon the disillusioned lad. + </p> + <p> + Crushed by that bolt from the blue, Richard sat as if stunned, the flush + receding from his face until his very lips were livid. The shock had + sobered him, and, sobered, he realized in terror what he had done. And yet + even sober he was amazed to find that the staff upon which with such + security he had leaned should have proved rotten. True he had put much + strain upon it; but then he had counted that it would stand much strain. + </p> + <p> + He would have spoken, but he lacked words, so stricken was he. And even + had he done so it is odds none would have heard him, for the late calm was + of a sudden turned to garboil. Every man of that company—with the + sole exception of Richard himself—was on his feet, and all were + speaking at once, in clamouring, excited chorus. + </p> + <p> + Wilding alone—the butt of their expostulations—stood quietly + smiling, and wiped his face at last with a kerchief of finest lawn. + Dominating the others in the Babel rose the voice of Sir Rowland Blake—impecunious + Blake; Blake lately of the Guards, who had sold his commission as the only + thing remaining him upon which he could raise money; Blake, that other + suitor for Miss Westmacott's hand, the suitor favoured by her brother. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not do it, Mr. Wilding,” he shouted, his face crimson. “No, by + God! You were shamed forever. He is but a lad, and drunk.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard eyed the short, powerfully built man beside him, and laughed + unpleasantly. “You should get yourself bled one of these days, Sir + Rowland,” he advised. “There may be no great danger yet; but a man can't + be too careful when he wears a narrow neckcloth.” + </p> + <p> + Blake—a short, powerfully built man—took no heed of him, but + looked straight at Mr. Wilding, who, smiling ever, calmly returned the + gaze of those prominent blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You will suffer me, Sir Rowland,” said he sweetly, “to be the judge of + whom I will and whom I will not meet.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland flushed under that mocking glance and caustic tone. “But he is + drunk,” he repeated feebly. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Trenchard, “that he is hearing something that will make + him sober.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Gervase took the lad by the shoulder, and shook him impatiently. + “Well?” quoth he. “Have you nothing to say? You did a deal of prating just + now. I make no doubt but that even at this late hour if you were to make + apology...” + </p> + <p> + “It would be idle,” came Wilding's icy voice to quench the gleam of hope + kindling anew in Richard's breast. The lad saw that he was lost, and he is + a poor thing, indeed, who cannot face the worst once that worst is shown + to be irrevocable. He rose with some semblance of dignity. + </p> + <p> + “It is as I would wish,” said he, but his livid face and staring eyes + belied the valour of his words. He cleared his huskiness from his throat. + “Sir Rowland,” said he, “will you act for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” cried Blake with an oath. “I'll be no party to the butchery of a + boy unfledged.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfledged?” echoed Trenchard. “Body o' me! 'Tis a matter Wilding will + amend to-morrow. He'll fledge him, never fear. He'll wing him on his + flight to heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Of set purpose did Trenchard add this fuel to the blazing fire. It was no + part of his views that this encounter should be avoided. If Richard + Westmacott were allowed to live after what had passed, there were too many + tall fellows might go in peril of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Richard, meanwhile, had turned to the man on his left—young + Vallancey, a notorious partisan of the Duke of Monmouth's, a hair-brained + gentleman who was his own worst enemy. + </p> + <p> + “May I count on you, Ned?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—to the death,” said Vallancey magniloquently. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vallancey,” said Trenchard with a wry twist of his sharp features, + “you grow prophetic.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. SIR ROWLAND TO THE RESCUE + </h2> + <p> + From Scoresby Hall, near Weston Zoyland, young Westmacott rode home that + Saturday night to his sister's house in Bridgwater, a sobered man and an + anguished. He had committed a folly which was like to cost him his life + to-morrow. Other follies had he committed in his twenty-five years—for + he was not quite the babe that Blake had represented him, although he + certainly looked nothing like his age. But to-night he had contrived to + set the crown to all. He had good cause to blame himself and to curse the + miscalculation that had emboldened him to launch himself upon a course of + insult against this Wilding, whom he hated with all the currish and + resentful hatred of the worthless for the man of parts. + </p> + <p> + But there was more than hate in the affront that he had offered; there was + calculation—to an even greater extent than we have seen. It happened + that through his own fault young Richard was all but penniless. The pious, + nonconformist soul of Sir Geoffrey Lupton—the wealthy uncle from + whom he had had great expectations—had been so stirred to anger by + Richard's vicious and besotted ways that he had left every guinea that was + his, every perch of land, and every brick of edifice to Richard's + half-sister Ruth. At present things were not so bad for the worthless boy. + Ruth worshipped him. He was a sacred charge to her from their dead father, + who, knowing the stoutness of her soul and the feebleness of Richard's, + had in dying imposed on her the care and guidance of her graceless + brother. But Ruth, in all things strong, was weak with Richard out of her + very fondness for him. To what she had he might help himself, and thus it + was that things were not so bad with him at present. But when Richard's + calculating mind came to give thought to the future he found that this + occasioned him some care. Rich ladies, even when they do not happen to be + equipped in addition with Ruth's winsome beauty and endearing nature, are + not wont to go unmarried. It would have pleased Richard best to have had + her remain a spinster. But he well knew that this was a matter in which + she might have a voice of her own, and it behoved him betimes to take wise + measures where possible husbands were concerned. + </p> + <p> +The first that came in a suitor's obvious panoply was Anthony Wilding, +of Zoyland Chase, and Richard watched his advent with foreboding. +Wilding's was a personality to dazzle any woman, despite—perhaps even +because of—the reputation for wildness that clung to him. That he was +known as Wild Wilding to the countryside is true; but it were unfair—as +Richard knew—to attach to this too much importance; for the adoption +of so obvious an alliteration the rude country minds needed but a slight +encouragement. + +From the first it looked as if Ruth might favour him, and Richard's +fears assumed more definite shape. If Wilding married her—and he was +a bold, masterful fellow who usually accomplished what he aimed at—her +fortune and estate must cease to be a pleasant pasture land for bovine +Richard. The boy thought at first of making terms with Wilding; the idea +was old; it had come to him when first he had counted the chances of his +sister's marrying. But he found himself hesitating to lay his proposal +before Mr. Wilding. And whilst he hesitated Mr. Wilding made obvious +headway. Still Richard dared not do it. There was a something in +Wilding's eye that cried him danger. Thus, in the end, since he +could not attempt a compromise with this fine fellow, the only course +remaining was that of direct antagonism—that is to say, direct as +Richard understood directness. Slander was the weapon he used in that +secret duel; the countryside was well stocked with stories of Mr. +Wilding's many indiscretions. I do not wish to suggest that these were +unfounded. Still, the countryside, cajoled by its primitive sense of +humour into that alliteration I have mentioned, found that having given +this dog its bad name, it was under the obligation of keeping up his +reputation. So it exaggerated. Richard, exaggerating those exaggerations +in his turn, had some details, as interesting and unsavoury as they were +in the main untrue, to lay before his sister. +</p> + <p> + Now established love, it is well known, thrives wondrously on slander. The + robust growth of a maid's feelings for her accepted suitor is but further + strengthened by malign representations of his character. She seizes with + joy the chance of affording proof of her great loyalty, and defies the + world and its evil to convince her that the man to whom she has given her + trust is not most worthy of it. Not so, however, with the first timid bud + of incipient interest. Slander nips it like a frost; in deadliness it is + second only to ridicule. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Westmacott lent an ear to her brother's stories, incredulous only + until she remembered vague hints she had caught from this person and from + that, whose meaning was now made clear by what Richard told her, which, + incidentally, they served to corroborate. Corroboration, too, did the tale + of infamy receive from the friendship that prevailed between Mr. Wilding + and Nick Trenchard, the old ne'er-dowell, who in his time—as + everybody knew—had come so low, despite his gentle birth, as to have + been one of a company of strolling players. Had Mr. Wilding been other + than she now learnt he was, he would surely not cherish an attachment for + a person so utterly unworthy. Clearly, they were birds of a plumage. + </p> + <p> + And so, her maiden purity outraged at the thought that she had been in + danger of lending a willing ear to the wooing of such a man, she had + crushed this love which she blushed to think was on the point of throwing + out roots to fasten on her soul, and was sedulous thereafter in + manifesting the aversion which she accounted it her duty to foster for Mr. + Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Richard had watched and smiled in secret, taking pride in the cunning way + he had wrought this change—that cunning which so often is given to + the stupid by way of compensation for the intelligence that has been + withheld them. + </p> + <p> + And now what time discountenanced, Wilding fumed and fretted all in vain, + Sir Rowland Blake, fresh from London and in full flight from his + creditors, flashed like a comet into the Bridgwater heavens. He dazzled + the eyes and might have had for the asking the heart and hand of Diana + Horton—Ruth's cousin. Her heart, indeed, he had without the asking, + for Diana fell straightway in love with him and showed it, just as he + showed that he was not without response to her affection. There were some + tender passages between them; but Blake, for all his fine exterior, was a + beggar, and Diana far from rich, and so he rode his feelings with a hard + grip upon the reins. And then, in an evil hour for poor Diana, young + Westmacott had taken him to Lupton House, and Sir Rowland had his first + glimpse of Ruth, his first knowledge of her fortune. He went down before + Ruth's eyes like a man of heart; he went down more lowly still before her + possessions like a man of greed; and poor Diana might console herself with + whom she could. + </p> + <p> + Her brother watched him, appraised him, and thought that in this broken + gamester he had a man after his own heart; a man who would be ready enough + for such a bargain as Richard had in mind; ready enough to sell what rags + might be left him of his honour so that he came by the wherewithal to mend + his broken fortunes. + </p> + <p> + The twain made terms. They haggled like any pair of traders out of Jewry, + but in the end it was settled—by a bond duly engrossed and sealed—that + on the day that Sir Rowland married Ruth he should make over to her + brother certain values that amounted to perhaps a quarter of her + possessions. There was no cause to think that Ruth would be greatly + opposed to this—not that that consideration would have weighed with + Richard. + </p> + <p> + But now that all essentials were so satisfactorily determined a vexation + was offered Westmacott by the circumstance that his sister seemed nowise + taken with Sir Rowland. She suffered him because he was her brother's + friend; on that account she even honoured him with some measure of her own + friendship; but to no greater intimacy did her manner promise to admit + him. And meanwhile, Mr. Wilding persisted in the face of all rebuffs. + Under his smiling mask he hid the smart of the wounds she dealt him, until + it almost seemed to him that from loving her he had come to hate her. + </p> + <p> + It had been well for Richard had he left things as they were and waited. + Whether Blake prospered or not, leastways it was clear that Wilding would + not prosper, and that, for the season, was all that need have mattered to + young Richard. + </p> + <p> + But in his cups that night he had thought in some dim way to precipitate + matters by affronting Mr. Wilding, secure, as I have shown, in his belief + that Wilding would perish sooner than raise a finger against Ruth's + brother. And his drunken astuteness, it seemed, had been to his mind as a + piece of bottle glass to the sight, distorting the image viewed through + it. + </p> + <p> + With some such bitter reflection rode he home to his sleepless couch. Some + part of those dark hours he spent in bitter reviling of Wilding, of + himself, and even of his sister, whom he blamed for this awful situation + into which he had tumbled; at other times he wept from self-pity and sheer + fright. + </p> + <p> + Once, indeed, he imagined that he saw light, that he saw a way out of the + peril that hemmed him in. His mind turned for a moment in the direction + that Trenchard had feared it might. He bethought him of his association + with the Monmouth Cause—into which he had been beguiled by the + sordid hope of gain—and of Wilding's important share in that same + business. He was even moved to rise and ride that very night for Exeter to + betray to Albemarle the Cause itself, so that he might have Wilding laid + by the heels. But if Trenchard had been right in having little faith in + Richard's loyalty, he had, it seems, in fearing treachery made the mistake + of giving Richard credit for more courage than was his endowment. For + when, sitting up in bed, fired by his inspiration, young Westmacott came + to consider the questions the Lord-Lieutenant of Devon would be likely to + ask him, he reflected that the answers he must return would so incriminate + himself that he would be risking his own neck in the betrayal. He flung + himself down again with a curse and a groan, and thought no more of the + salvation that might lie for him that way. + </p> + <p> + The morning of that last day of May found him pale and limp and all + a-tremble. He rose betimes and dressed, but stirred not from his chamber + till in the garden under his window he heard his sister's voice, and that + of Diana Horton, joined anon by a man's deeper tones, which he recognized + with a start as Blake's. What did the baronet here so early? Assuredly it + must concern the impending duel. Richard knew no mawkishness on the score + of eavesdropping. He stole to his window and lent an ear, but the voices + were receding, and to his vexation he caught nothing of what was said. He + wondered how soon Vallancey would come, and for what hour the encounter + had been appointed. Vallancey had remained behind at Scoresby Hall last + night to make the necessary arrangements with Trenchard, who was to act + for Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Now it chanced that Trenchard and Wilding had business—business of + Monmouth's—to transact in Taunton that morning; business which might + not be delayed. There were odd rumours afloat in the West; persistent + rumours which had come fast upon the heels of the news of Argyle's landing + in Scotland; rumours which maintained that Monmouth himself was coming + over from Holland. These tales Wilding and his associates had ignored. The + Duke, they knew, was to spend the summer in retreat in Sweden, with (it + was alleged) the Lady Henrietta Wentworth to bear him company, and in the + mean time his trusted agents were to pave the way for his coming in the + following spring. Of late the lack of direct news from the Duke had been a + source of mystification to his friends in the West, and now, suddenly, the + information went abroad—it was something more than rumour this time—that + a letter of the greatest importance had been intercepted. From whom that + letter proceeded or to whom it was addressed, could not yet be discovered. + But it seemed clear that it was connected with the Monmouth Cause, and it + behoved Mr. Wilding to discover what he could. With this intent he rode + with Trenchard that Sunday morning to Taunton, hoping that at the Red Lion + Inn—that meeting-place of dissenters—he might cull reliable + information. + </p> + <p> + It was in consequence of this that the meeting with Richard Westmacott was + not to take place until the evening, and therefore Vallancey came not to + Lupton House as early as Richard thought he should expect him. Blake, + however—more no doubt out of a selfish fear of losing a valued ally + in the winning of Ruth's hand than out of any excessive concern for + Richard himself—had risen early and hastened to Lupton House, in the + hope, which he recognized as all but forlorn, of yet being able to avert + the disaster he foresaw for Richard. + </p> + <p> + Peering over the orchard wall as he rode by, he caught a glimpse, through + an opening between the trees, of Ruth herself and Diana on the lawn + beyond. There was a wicket gate that stood unlatched, and availing himself + of this Sir Rowland tethered his horse in the lane and threading his way + briskly through the orchard came suddenly upon the girls. Their laughter + reached him as he advanced, and told him they could know nothing yet of + Richard's danger. + </p> + <p> + On his abrupt and unexpected apparition, Diana paled and Ruth flushed + slightly, whereupon Sir Rowland might have bethought him, had he been + book-learned, of the axiom, “Amour qui rougit, fleurette; amour qui plit, + drame du coeur.” + </p> + <p> + He doffed his hat and bowed, his fair ringlets tumbling forward till they + hid his face, which was exceeding grave. + </p> + <p> + Ruth gave him good morning pleasantly. “You London folk are earlier risers + than we are led to think,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “'Twill be the change of air makes Sir Rowland matutinal,” said Diana, + making a gallant recovery from her agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I vow,” said he, “that I had grown matutinal earlier had I known what + here awaited me.” + </p> + <p> + “Awaited you?” quoth Diana, and tossed her head archly disdainful. “La! + Sir Rowland, your modesty will be the death of you.” Archness became this + lady of the sunny hair, tip-tilted nose, and complexion that outvied the + apple-blossoms. She was shorter by a half-head than her darker cousin, and + made up in sprightliness what she lacked of Ruth's gentle dignity. The + pair were foils, each setting off the graces of the other. + </p> + <p> + “I protest I am foolish,” answered Blake, a shade discomfited. “But I want + not for excuse. I have it in the matter that brings me here.” So solemn + was his air, so sober his voice, that both girls felt a premonition of the + untoward message that he bore. It was Ruth who asked him to explain + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk, ladies?” said Blake, and waved the hand that still held + his hat riverwards, adown the sloping lawn. They moved away together, Sir + Rowland pacing between his love of yesterday and his love of to-day, + pressed with questions from both. He shaded his eyes to look at the river, + dazzling in the morning sunlight that came over Polden Hill, and, standing + thus, he unburdened himself at last. + </p> + <p> + “My news concerns Richard and—Mr. Wilding.” They looked at him. Miss + Westmacott's fine level brows were knit. He paused to ask, as if suddenly + observing his absence, “Is Richard not yet risen?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” said Ruth, and waited for him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “It does credit to his courage that he should sleep late on such a day,” + said Blake, and was pleased with the adroitness wherewith he broke the + news. “He quarrelled last night with Anthony Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's hand went to her bosom; fear stared at Blake from out her eyes, + blue as the heavens overhead; a grey shade overcast the usual warm pallor + of her face. + </p> + <p> + “With Mr. Wilding?” she cried. “That man!” And though she said no more her + eyes implored him to go on, and tell her what more there might be. He did + so, and he spared not Wilding. The task, indeed, was one to which he + applied himself with a certain zest; whatever might be the outcome of the + affair, there was no denying that he was by way of reaping profit from it + by the final overthrow of an acknowledged rival. And when he told her how + Richard had flung his wine in Wilding's face when Wilding stood to toast + her, a faint flush crept to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Richard did well,” said she. “I am proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + The words pleased Sir Rowland vastly; but he reckoned without Diana. Miss + Horton's mind was illumined by her knowledge of herself. In the light of + that she saw precisely what capital this tale-bearer sought to make. The + occasion might not be without its opportunities for her; and to begin + with, it was no part of her intention that Wilding should be thus maligned + and finally driven from the lists of rivalry with Blake. Upon Wilding, + indeed, and his notorious masterfulness did she found what hopes she still + entertained of winning back Sir Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said she, “you are a little hard on Mr. Wilding. You speak as if + he were the first gallant that ever toasted lady's eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am no lady of his, Diana,” Ruth reminded her, with a faint show of + heat. + </p> + <p> + Diana shrugged her shoulders. “You may not love him, but you can't ordain + that he shall not love you. You are very harsh, I think. To me it rather + seems that Richard acted like a boor.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mistress,” cried Sir Rowland, half out of countenance, and stifling + his vexation, “in these matters it all depends upon the manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” she agreed; “and whatever Mr. Wilding's manner, if I know him + at all, it would be nothing but respectful to the last degree.” + </p> + <p> + “My own conception of respect,” said he, “is not to bandy a lady's name + about a company of revellers.” + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you, though, you said just now, it all depended on the manner,” + she rejoined. Sir Rowland shrugged and turned half from her to her + listening cousin. When all is said, poor Diana appears—despite her + cunning—to have been short-sighted. Aiming at a defined advantage in + the game she played, she either ignored or held too lightly the + concomitant disadvantage of vexing Blake. + </p> + <p> + “It were perhaps best to tell us the exact words he used, Sir Rowland,” + she suggested, “that for ourselves we may judge how far he lacked + respect.” + </p> + <p> + “What signify the words!” cried Blake, now almost out of temper. “I don't + recall them. It is the air with which he pledged Mistress Westmacott.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes—the manner,” quoth Diana irritatingly. “We'll let that be. + Richard threw his wine in Mr. Wilding's face? What followed then? What + said Mr. Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland remembered what Mr. Wilding had said, and bethought him that + it were impolitic in him to repeat it. At the same time, not having looked + for this cross-questioning, he was all unprepared with any likely answer. + He hesitated, until Ruth echoed Diana's question. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us, Sir Rowland,” she begged him, “what Mr. Wilding said.” + </p> + <p> + Being forced to say something, and being by nature slow-witted and + sluggish of invention, Sir Rowland was compelled, to his unspeakable + chagrin, to fall back upon the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Is not that proof?” cried Diana in triumph. “Mr. Wilding was reluctant to + quarrel with Richard. He was even ready to swallow such an affront as + that, thinking it might be offered him under a misconception of his + meaning. He plainly professed the respect that filled him for Mistress + Westmacott, and yet, and yet, Sir Rowland, you tell us that he lacked + respect!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” cried Blake, turning crimson, “that matters nothing. It was not + the place or time to introduce your cousin's name. + </p> + <p> + “You think, Sir Rowland,” put in Ruth, her air grave, judicial almost, + “that Richard behaved well?” + </p> + <p> + “As I would like to behave myself, as I would have a son of mine behave on + the like occasion,” Blake protested. “But we waste words,” he cried. “I + did not come to defend Richard, nor just to bear you this untoward news. I + came to consult with you, in the hope that we might find some way to avert + this peril from your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What way is possible?” asked Ruth, and sighed. “I would not... I would + not have Richard a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you prefer him dead?” asked Blake, sadly grave. + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than craven—yes,” Ruth answered him, very white. + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of that,” was Blake's rejoinder. “The question is + that Wilding said last night that he would kill the boy, and what Wilding + says he does. Out of the affection that I bear Richard is born my anxiety + to save him despite himself. It is in this that I come to seek your aid or + offer mine. Allied we might accomplish what singly neither of us could.” + </p> + <p> + He had at once the reward of his cunning speech. Ruth held out her hands. + “You are a good friend, Sir Rowland,” she said, with a pale smile; and + pale too was the smile with which Diana watched them. No more than Ruth + did she suspect the sincerity of Blake's protestations. + </p> + <p> + “I am proud you should account me that,” said the baronet, taking Ruth's + hands and holding them a moment; “and I would that I could prove myself + your friend in this to some good purpose. Believe me, if Wilding would + consent that I might take your brother's place, I would gladly do so.” + </p> + <p> + It was a safe boast, knowing as he did that Wilding would consent to no + such thing; but it earned him a glance of greater kindliness from Ruth—who + began to think that hitherto perhaps she had done him some injustice—and + a look of greater admiration from Diana, who saw in him her beau-ideal of + the gallant lover. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have you endanger yourself so,” said Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “It might,” said Blake, his blue eyes very fierce, “be no great danger, + after all.” And then dismissing that part of the subject as if, like a + brave man, the notion of being thought boastful were unpleasant, he passed + on to the discussion of ways and means by which the coming duel might be + averted. But when they came to grips with facts, it seemed that Sir + Rowland had as little idea of what might be done as had the ladies. True, + he began by making the obvious suggestion that Richard should tender + Wilding a full apology. That, indeed, was the only door of escape, and + Blake shrewdly suspected that what the boy had been unwilling to do last + night—partly through wine, and partly through the fear of looking + fearful in the eyes of Lord Gervase Scoresby's guests—he might be + willing enough to do to-day, sober and upon reflection. For the rest Blake + was as far from suspecting Mr. Wilding's peculiar frame of mind as had + Richard been last night. This his words showed. + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied,” said he, “that if Richard were to go to-day to Wilding + and express his regret for a thing done in the heat of wine, Wilding would + be forced to accept it as satisfaction, and none would think that it did + other than reflect credit upon Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you very sure of that?” asked Ruth, her tone dubious, her glance + hopefully anxious. + </p> + <p> + “What else is to be thought?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” put in Diana shrewdly, “it were an admission of Richard's that he + had done wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “No less,” he agreed, and Ruth caught her breath in fresh dismay. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you have said that he did as you would have a son of yours do,” + Diana reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “And I maintain it,” answered Blake; his wits worked slowly ever. It was + for Ruth to reveal the flaw to him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not understand, then,” she asked him sadly, “that such an + admission on Richard's part would amount to a lie—a lie uttered to + save himself from an encounter, the worst form of lie, a lie of cowardice? + Surely, Sir Rowland, your kindly anxiety for his life outruns your anxiety + for his honour.” + </p> + <p> + Diana, having accomplished her task, hung her head in silence, pondering. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland was routed utterly. He glanced from one to the other of his + companions, and grew afraid that he—the town gallant—might + come to look foolish in the eyes of these country ladies. He protested + again his love for Richard, and increased Ruth's terror by his mention of + Wilding's swordsmanship; but when all was said, he saw that he had best + retreat ere he spoiled the good effect which he hoped his solicitude had + created. And so he spoke of seeking counsel with Lord Gervase Scoresby, + and took his leave, promising to return by noon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. DIANA SCHEMES + </h2> + <p> + Notwithstanding the brave face Ruth Westmacott had kept during his + presence, when he departed Sir Rowland left behind him a distress + amounting almost to anguish in her mind. Yet though she might suffer, + there was no weakness in Ruth's nature. She knew how to endure. Diana, + bearing Richard not a tenth of the affection his sister consecrated to + him, was alarmed for him. Besides, her own interests urged the averting of + this encounter. And so she held in accents almost tearful that something + must be done to save him. + </p> + <p> + This, too, appeared to be Richard's own view, when presently—within + a few minutes of Blake's departure—he came to join them. They + watched his approach in silence, and both noted—though with + different eyes and different feelings—the pallor of his fair face, + the dark lines under his colourless eyes. His condition was abject, and + his manners, never of the best—for there was much of the spoiled + child about Richard—were clearly suffering from it. + </p> + <p> + He stood before his sister and his cousin, moving his eyes shiftily from + one to the other, rubbing his hands nervously together. + </p> + <p> + “Your precious friend Sir Rowland has been here,” said he, and it was not + clear from his manner which of them he addressed. “Not a doubt but he will + have brought you the news.” He seemed to sneer. + </p> + <p> + Ruth advanced towards him, her face grave, her sweet eyes full of pitying + concern. She placed a hand upon his sleeve. “My poor Richard...” she + began, but he shook off her kindly touch, laughing angrily—a mere + cackle of irritability. + </p> + <p> + “Odso!” he interrupted her. “It is a thought late for this mock + kindliness!” + </p> + <p> + Diana, in the background, arched her brows, then with a shrug turned aside + and seated herself on the stone seat by which they had been standing. Ruth + shrank back as if her brother had struck her. + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” she cried, and searched his livid face with her eyes. + “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + He read a question in the interjection, and he answered it. “Had you known + any real care, any true concern for me, you had not given cause for this + affair,” he chid her peevishly. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying?” she cried, and it occurred to her at last that + Richard was afraid. He was a coward! She felt as she would faint. + </p> + <p> + “I am saying,” said he, hunching his shoulders, and shivering as he spoke, + yet, his glance unable to meet hers, “that it is your fault that I am like + to get my throat cut before sunset.” + </p> + <p> + “My fault?” she murmured. The slope of lawn seemed to wave and swim about + her. “My fault?” + </p> + <p> + “The fault of your wanton ways,” he accused her harshly. “You have so + played fast and loose with this fellow Wilding that he makes free of your + name in my very presence, and puts upon me the need to get myself killed + by him to save the family honour.” + </p> + <p> + He would have said more in this strain, but something in her glance gave + him pause. There fell a silence. From the distance came the melodious + pealing of church bells. High overhead a lark was pouring out its song; in + the lane at the orchard end rang the beat of trotting hoofs. It was Diana + who spoke presently. Just indignation stirred her, and, when stirred, she + knew no pity, set no limits to her speech. + </p> + <p> + “I think, indeed,” said she, her voice crisp and merciless, “that the + family honour will best be saved if Mr. Wilding kills you. It is in danger + while you live. You are a coward, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Diana!” he thundered—he could be mighty brave with women—whilst + Ruth clutched her arm to restrain her. + </p> + <p> + But she continued, undeterred: “You are a coward—a pitiful coward,” + she told him. “Consult your mirror. It will tell you what a palsied thing + you are. That you should dare so speak to Ruth...” + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” Ruth begged her, turning. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” growled Richard, “she had best be silent.” + </p> + <p> + Diana rose, to battle, her cheeks crimson. “It asks a braver man than you + to compel my obedience,” she told him. “La!” she fumed, “I'll swear that + had Mr. Wilding overheard what you have said to your sister, you would + have little to fear from his sword. A cane would be the weapon he'd use on + you.” + </p> + <p> + Richard's pale eyes flamed malevolently; a violent rage possessed him and + flooded out his fear, for nothing can so goad a man as an offensive truth. + Ruth approached him again; again she took him by the arm, seeking to + soothe his over-troubled spirit; but again he shook her off. And then to + save the situation came a servant from the house. So lost in anger was all + Richard's sense of decency that the mere supervention of the man would not + have been enough to have silenced him could he have found adequate words + in which to answer Mistress Horton. But even as he racked his mind, the + footman's voice broke the silence, and the words the fellow uttered did + what his presence alone might not have sufficed to do. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vallancey is asking for you, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Richard started. Vallancey! He had come at last, and his coming was + connected with the impending duel. The thought was paralyzing to young + Westmacott. The flush of anger faded from his face; its leaden hue + returned and he shivered as with cold. At last he mastered himself + sufficiently to ask: + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, Jasper?” + </p> + <p> + “In the library, sir,” replied the servant. “Shall I bring him hither?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no,” he answered. “I will come to him.” He turned his back upon + the ladies, paused a moment, still irresolute. Then, as by an effort, he + followed the servant across the lawn and vanished through the ivied porch. + </p> + <p> + As he went Diana flew to her cousin. Her shallow nature was touched with + transient pity. “My poor Ruth...” she murmured soothingly, and set her arm + about the other's waist. There was a gleam of tears in the eyes Ruth + turned upon her. Together they came to the granite seat and sank to it + side by side, fronting the placid river. There Ruth, her elbows on her + knees, cradled her chin in her hands, and with a sigh of misery stared + straight before her. + </p> + <p> + “It was untrue!” she said at last. “What Richard said of me was untrue.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” Diana snapped, contemptuous. “The only truth is that Richard + is afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth shivered. “Ah, no,” she pleaded—she knew how true was the + impeachment. “Don't say it, Diana.” + </p> + <p> + “It matters little that I say it,” snorted Diana impatiently. “It is a + truth proclaimed by the first glance at him.” + </p> + <p> + “He is in poor health, perhaps,” said Ruth, seeking miserably to excuse + him. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Diana. “He's suffering from an ague—the result of a lack + of courage. That he should so have spoken to you! Give me patience, + Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth crimsoned again at the memory of his words; a wave of indignation + swept through her gentle soul, but was gone at once, leaving an ineffable + sadness in its room. What was to be done? She turned to Diana for counsel. + But Diana was still whipping up her scorn. + </p> + <p> + “If he goes out to meet Mr. Wilding, he'll shame himself and every man and + woman that bears the name of Westmacott,” said she, and struck a new fear + with that into the heart of Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “He must not go!” she answered passionately. “He must not meet him!” + </p> + <p> + Diana flashed her a sidelong glance. “And if he doesn't, will things be + mended?” she inquired. “Will it save his honour to have Mr. Wilding come + and cane him?” + </p> + <p> + “He'd not do that?” said Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Not if you asked him—no,” was Diana's sharp retort, and she caught + her breath on the last word of it, for just then the Devil dropped the + seed of a suggestion into the fertile soil of her lovesick soul. + </p> + <p> + “Diana!” Ruth exclaimed in reproof, turning to confront her cousin. But + Diana's mind started upon its scheming journey was now travelling fast. + Out of that devil's seed there sprang with amazing rapidity a tree-like + growth, throwing out branches, putting forth leaves, bearing already—in + her fancy—bloom and fruit. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” quoth she after a breathing space, and her voice was gentle, + her tone innocent beyond compare. “Why should you not ask him?” Ruth + frowned, perplexed and thoughtful, and now Diana turned to her with the + lively eye of one into whose mind has leapt a sudden inspiration. “Ruth!” + she exclaimed. “Why, indeed, should you not ask him to forgo this duel?” + </p> + <p> + “How, how could I?” faltered Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “He'd not deny you; you know he'd not.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know it,” answered Ruth. “But if I did, how could I ask it?” + </p> + <p> + “Were I Richard's sister, and had I his life and honour at heart as you + have, I'd not ask how. If Richard goes to that encounter he loses both, + remember—unless between this and then he undergoes some change. Were + I in your place, I'd straight to Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “To him?” mused Ruth, sitting up. “How could I go to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to him, yes,” Diana insisted. “Go to him at once—while there is + yet time.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth rose and moved away a step or two towards the water, deep in thought. + Diana watched her furtively and slyly, the rapid rise and fall of her + maiden breast betraying the agitation that filled her as she waited—like + a gamester—for the turn of the card that would show her whether she + had won or lost. For she saw clearly how Ruth might be so compromised that + there was something more than a chance that Diana would no longer have + cause to account her cousin a barrier between herself and Blake. + </p> + <p> + “I could not go alone,” said Ruth, and her tone was that of one still + battling with a notion that is repugnant. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if that is all,” said Diana, “then I'll go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! I can't! Consider the humiliation.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider Richard rather,” the fair temptress made answer eagerly. “Be + sure that Mr. Wilding will save you all humiliation. He'll not deny you. + At a word from you, I know what answer he will make. He will refuse to + push the matter forward—acknowledge himself in the wrong, do + whatever you may ask him. He can do it. None will question his courage. It + has been proved too often.” She rose and came to Ruth. She set her arm + about her waist again, and poured shrewd persuasion over her cousin's + indecision. “To-night you'll thank me for this thought,” she assured her. + “Why do you pause? Are you so selfish as to think more of the little + humiliation that may await you than of Richard's life and honour?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” Ruth protested feebly. + </p> + <p> + “What, then? Is Richard to go out and slay his honour by a show of fear + before he is slain, himself, by the man he has insulted?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” said Ruth. Now that the resolve was taken, she was brisk, + impatient. “Come, Diana. Let Jerry saddle for us. We'll ride to Zoyland + Chase at once.” + </p> + <p> + They went without a word to Richard who was still closeted with Vallancey, + and riding forth they crossed the river and took the road that, skirting + Sedgemoor, runs south to Weston Zoyland. They rode with little said until + they came to the point where the road branches on the left, throwing out + an arm across the moor towards Chedzoy, a mile or so short of Zoyland + Chase. Here Diana reined in with a sharp gasp of pain. Ruth checked, and + cried to know what ailed her. + </p> + <p> + “It is the sun, I think,” muttered Diana, her hand to her brow. “I am sick + and giddy.” And she slipped a thought heavily to the ground. In an instant + Ruth had dismounted and was beside her. Diana was pale, which lent colour + to her complaint, for Ruth was not to know that the pallor sprang from her + agitation in wondering whether the ruse she attempted would succeed or + not. + </p> + <p> + A short stone's-throw from where they had halted stood a cottage back from + the road in a little plot of ground, the property of a kindly old woman + known to both. There Diana expressed the wish to rest awhile, and thither + they took their way, Ruth leading both horses and supporting her faltering + cousin. The dame was all solicitude. Diana was led into her parlour, and + what could be done was done. Her corsage was loosened, water drawn from + the well and brought her to drink and bathe her brow. + </p> + <p> + She sat back languidly, her head lolling sideways against one of the wings + of the great chair, and languidly assured them she would be better soon if + she were but allowed to rest awhile. Ruth drew up a stool to sit beside + her, for all that her soul fretted at this delay. What if in consequence + she should reach Zoyland Chase too late—to find that Mr. Wilding had + gone forth already? But even as she was about to sit, it seemed that the + same thought had of a sudden come to Diana. The girl leaned forward, + thrusting—as if by an effort—some of her faintness from her. + </p> + <p> + “Do not wait for me, Ruth,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “I must, child.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not;” the other insisted. “Think what it may mean—Richard's + life, perhaps. No, no, Ruth, dear. Go on; go on to Zoyland. I'll follow + you in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait for you,” said Ruth with firmness. + </p> + <p> + At that Diana rose, and in rising staggered. “Then we'll push on at once,” + she gasped, as if speech itself were an excruciating effort. + </p> + <p> + “But you are in no case to stand!” said Ruth. “Sit, Diana, sit.” + </p> + <p> + “Either you go on alone or I go with you, but go at once you must. At any + moment Mr. Wilding may go forth, and your chance is lost. I'll not have + Richard's blood upon my head.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth wrung her hands in her dismay, confronted by a parlous choice. + Consent to Diana's accompanying her in this condition she could not; ride + on alone to Mr. Wilding's house was hardly to be thought of, and yet if + she delayed she was endangering Richard's life. By the very strength of + her nature she was caught in the mesh of Diana's scheme. She saw that her + hesitation was unworthy. This was no ordinary cause, no ordinary occasion. + It was a time for heroic measures. She must ride on, nor could she consent + to take Diana. + </p> + <p> + And so in the end she went, having seen her cousin settled again in the + high chair, and took with her Diana's feeble assurances that she would + follow her in a few moments, as soon as her faintness passed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. TERMS OF SURRENDER + </h2> + <p> + “MR. WILDING rode at dawn with Mr. Trenchard, madam,” announced old + Walters, the butler at Zoyland Chase. Old and familiar servant though he + was, he kept from his countenance all manifestation of the deep surprise + occasioned him by the advent of Mistress Westmacott, unescorted. + </p> + <p> + “He rode... at dawn?” faltered Ruth, and for a moment she stood + irresolute, afraid and pondering in the shade of the great pillared porch. + Then she took heart again. If he rode at dawn, it was not in quest of + Richard that he went, since it had been near eleven o'clock when she had + left Bridgwater. He must have gone on other business first, and, + doubtless, before he went to the encounter he would be returning home. + “Said he at what hour he would return?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He bade us expect him by noon, madam.” + </p> + <p> + This gave confirmation to her thoughts. It wanted more than half an hour + to noon already. “Then he may return at any moment?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “At any moment, madam,” was the grave reply. + </p> + <p> + She took her resolve. “I will wait,” she announced, to the man's + increasing if undisplayed astonishment. “Let my horse be seen to.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his obedience, and she followed him—a slender, graceful + figure in her dove-coloured riding-habit laced with silver—across + the stone-flagged vestibule, through the cool gloom of the great hall, + into the spacious library of which he held the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Horton is following me,” she informed the butler. “Will you + bring her to me when she comes?” + </p> + <p> + Bowing again in silent acquiescence, the white-haired servant closed the + door and left her. She stood in the centre of the great room, drawing off + her riding-gloves, perturbed and frightened beyond all reason at finding + herself for the first time under Mr. Wilding's roof. He was most + handsomely housed. His grandfather, who had travelled in Italy, had built + the Chase upon the severe and noble lines which there he had learnt to + admire, and he had embellished its interior, too, with many treasures of + art which with that intent he had there collected. + </p> + <p> + She dropped her whip and gloves on to a table, and sank into a chair to + wait, her heart fluttering in her throat. Time passed, and in the silence + of the great house her anxiety was gradually quieted, until at last + through the long window that stood open came faintly wafted to her on the + soft breeze of that June morning the sound of a church clock at Weston + Zoyland chiming twelve. She rose with a start, bethinking her suddenly of + Diana, and wondering why she had not yet arrived. Was the child's + indisposition graver than she had led Ruth to suppose? She crossed to the + windows and stood there drumming impatiently upon the pane, her eyes + straying idly over the sweep of elm-fringed lawns towards the river + gleaming silvery here and there between the trees in the distance. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she caught a sound of hoofs. Was this Diana? She sped to the + other window, the one that stood open, and now she heard the crunch of + gravel and the champ of bits and the sound of more than two pairs of + hoofs. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Wilding and Mr. Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + She felt the colour flying from her cheeks; again her heart fluttered in + her throat, and it was in vain that with her hand she sought to repress + the heaving of her breast. She was afraid; her every instinct bade her + slip through the window at which she stood and run from Zoyland Chase. And + then she thought of Richard and his danger, and she seemed to gather + courage from the reflection of her purpose in this house. + </p> + <p> + Men's voices reached her—a laugh, the harsh cawing of Nick + Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “A lady!” she heard him cry. “'Od's heart, Tony! Is this a time for + trafficking with doxies?” She crimsoned an instant at the coarse word and + set her teeth, only to pale again the next. The voices were lowered so + that she heard not what was said; one sharp exclamation she recognized to + be in Wilding's voice, but caught not the word he uttered. There followed + a pause, and she stirred uneasily, waiting. Then came swift steps and + jangling spurs across the hall, the door opened suddenly, and Mr. Wilding, + in a scarlet riding-coat, his boots white with dust, stood bowing to her + from the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, Mistress Westmacott,” she heard him murmur. “My house is + deeply honoured.” + </p> + <p> + She dropped him a half-curtsy, pale and tongue-tied. He turned to deliver + hat and whip and gloves to Walters, who had followed him, then closed the + door and came forward into the room. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive that I present myself thus before you,” he said, in + apology for his dusty raiment. “But I bethought me you might be in haste, + and Walters tells me that already have you waited nigh upon an hour. Will + you not sit, madam?” And he advanced a chair. His long white face was set + like a mask; but his dark, slanting eyes devoured her. He guessed the + reason of her visit. She who had humbled him, who had driven him to the + very borders of despair, was now to be humbled and to despair before him. + Under the impassive face his soul exulted fiercely. + </p> + <p> + She disregarded the chair he proffered. “My visit... has no doubt + surprised you,” she began, tremulous and hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “I' faith, no,” he answered quietly. “The cause, after all, is not very + far to seek. You are come on Richard's behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “Not on Richard's,” she answered. “On my own.” And now that the ice was + broken, the suspense of waiting over, she found the tide of her courage + flowing fast. “This encounter must not take place, Mr. Wilding,” she + informed him. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyebrows—fine and level as her own—his thin lips + smiled never so faintly. “It is, I think,” said he, “for Richard to + prevent it. The chance was his last night. It shall be his again when we + meet. If he will express regret...” He left his sentence there. In truth + he mocked her, though she guessed it not. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said she, “that if he makes apology...?” + </p> + <p> + “What else? What other way remains?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and, if pale, her face was resolute, her glance + steady. + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible,” she told him. “Last night—as I have the story—he + might have done it without shame. To-day it is too late. To tender his + apology on the ground would be to proclaim himself a coward.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding pursed his lips and shifted his position. “It is difficult, + perhaps,” said he, “but not impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” she insisted firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not quarrel with you for a word,” he answered, mighty agreeable. + “Call it impossible, if you will. Admit, however, that it is all I can + suggest. You will do me the justice, I am sure, to see that in expressing + my willingness to accept your brother's expressions of regret I am proving + myself once more your very obedient servant. But that it is you who ask it—and + whose desires are my commands—I should let no man go unpunished for + an insult such as your brother put upon me.” + </p> + <p> + She winced at his words, at the bow with which he had professed himself + once more her servant. + </p> + <p> + “It is no clemency that you offer him,” she said. “You leave him a choice + between death and dishonour.” + </p> + <p> + “He has,” Wilding reminded her, “the chance of combat.” + </p> + <p> + She flung back her head impatiently. “I think you mock me,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her keenly. “Will you tell me plainly, madam,” he begged, + “what you would have me do?” + </p> + <p> + She flushed under his gaze, and the flush told him what he sought to + learn. There was, of course, another way, and she had thought of it; but + she lacked—as well she might, all things considered—the + courage to propose it. She had come to Mr. Wilding in the vague hope that + he himself would choose the heroic part. And he, to punish for her scorn + of him this woman whom he loved to hating-point, was resolved that she + herself must beg it of him. Whether, having so far compelled her, he would + grant her prayer or not was something he could not just then himself have + told you. She bowed her head in silence, and Wilding, that faint smile, + half friendliness, half mockery, hovering ever on his lips, turned aside + and moved softly towards the window. Her eyes, veiled behind the long + lashes of their drooping lids, followed him furtively. She felt that she + hated him in very truth. She marked the upright elegance of his figure, + the easy grace of his movements, the fine aristocratic mould of the + aquiline face, which she beheld in profile; and she hated him the more for + these outward favours that must commend him to no lack of women. He was + too masterful. He made her realize too keenly her own weakness and that of + Richard. She felt that just now he controlled the vice that held her fast—her + affection for her brother. And because of that she hated him the more. + “You see, Mistress Westmacott,” said he, his shoulder to her, his tone + sweet to the point of sadness, “that there is nothing else.” She stood, + her eyes following the pattern of the parquetry, her foot unconsciously + tracing it; her courage ebbed, and she had no answer for him. After a + pause he spoke again, still without turning. “If that was not enough to + suit your ends”—and though he spoke in a tone of ever-increasing + sadness, there glinted through it the faintest ray of mockery—“I + marvel you should have come to Zoyland—to compromise yourself to so + little purpose.” + </p> + <p> + She raised a startled face. “Com... compromise myself?” she echoed. “Oh!” + It was a cry of indignation. + </p> + <p> + “What else?” quoth he, and turned abruptly to confront her. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Horton was... was with me,” she panted, her voice quivering as + on the brink of tears. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis unfortunate you should have separated,” he condoled. + </p> + <p> + “But... but, Mr. Wilding, I... I trusted to your honour. I accounted you a + gentleman. Surely... surely, sir, you will not let it be known that... I + came to you? You will keep my secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Secret!” said he, his eyebrows raised. “'Tis already the talk of the + servants' hall. By to-morrow 'twill be the gossip of Bridgwater.” + </p> + <p> + Air failed her. Her blue eyes fixed him in horror out of her stricken face. + Not a word had she wherewith to answer him. + </p> + <p> + The sight of her, thus, affected him oddly. His passion for her surged up, + aroused by pity for her plight, and awakened in him a sense of his + brutality. A faint flush stirred in his cheeks. He stepped quickly to her, + and caught her hand. She let it lie, cold and inert, within his nervous + grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, Ruth!” he cried, and his voice was for once unsteady. “Give it no + thought! I love you, Ruth. If you'll but heed that, no breath of scandal + can hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + She swallowed hard. “As how?” she asked mechanically. + </p> + <p> + He bowed low over her hand—so low that his face was hidden from her. + </p> + <p> + “If you will do me the honour to become my wife...” he began, but got no + further, for she snatched away her hand, her cheeks crimsoning, her eyes + aflame with indignation. He stepped back, crimsoning too. She had dashed + the gentleness from his mood. He was angered now and tigerish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she panted. “It is to affront me! Is this the time or place...” + </p> + <p> + He cropped her flow of indignant speech ere it was well begun. He caught + her in his arms, and held her tight, and so sudden was the act, so firm + his grip that she had not the thought or force to struggle. + </p> + <p> + “All time is love's time, all places are love's place,” he told her, his + face close to her own. “And of all time and places the present ever + preferable to the wise—for life is uncertain and short at best. I + bring you worship, and you answer me with scorn. But I shall prevail, and + you shall come to love me in very spite of your own self.” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head, away from his as far as the bonds he had cast + about her would allow. “Air! Air!” she panted feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you shall have air enough anon,” he answered with a half-strangled + laugh, his passion mounting ever. “Hark you, now—hark you, for + Richard's sake, since you'll not listen for my own nor yours. There is + another course by which I can save both Richard's life and honour. You + know it, and you counted upon my generosity to suggest it. But you + overlooked the thing on which you should have counted. You overlooked my + love. Count upon that, my Ruth, and Richard shall have naught to fear. + Count upon that, and when we meet this evening, Richard and I, it is I who + will tender the apology, I who will admit that I was wrong to introduce + your name into that company last night, and that what Richard did was a + just and well-deserved punishment upon me. This will I do if you'll but + count upon my love.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him fearfully, yet with flutterings of hope. “What is't + you mean?” she asked him faintly. + </p> + <p> + “That if you'll promise to be my wife...” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” she interrupted him. She struggled to free herself, released + one arm and struck him in the face. “Let me go, you coward!” + </p> + <p> + He was answered. His arms melted from her. He fell back a pace, very white + and even trembling, the fire all gone from his eye, which was now turned + dull and deadly. + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” he said, and strode to the bell-rope. “I'll not offend again. + I had not offended now”—he continued, in the voice of one offering + an explanation cold and formal—“but that when first I came into your + life you seemed to bid me welcome.” His fingers closed upon the crimson + bell-cord. She guessed his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she gasped, and put forth her hand. He paused, the rope in his, + his eye kindling anew. “You... you mean to kill Richard now?” she asked + him. + </p> + <p> + A swift lifting of his brows was his only answer. He tugged the cord. From + the distance the peal of the bell reached them faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wait, wait!” she begged, her hands pressed against her cheeks. He + stood impassible—hatefully impassible. “....... if I were to consent + to... this... how... how soon...?” He understood the unfinished question. + Interest warmed his face again. He took a step towards her, but by a + gesture she seemed to beg him come no nearer. + </p> + <p> + “If you will promise to marry me within the week, Richard shall have no + cause to fear either for his life or his honour at my hands.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed now to be recovering her calm. “Very well,” she said, her voice + singularly steady. “Let that be a bargain between us. Spare Richard's life + and honour—both, remember!—and on Sunday next...” For all her + courage her voice quavered and faltered. She dared add no more, lest it + should break altogether. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding drew a deep breath. Again he would have advanced. “Ruth!” he + cried, and some repentance smote him, some shame shook him in his purpose. + At that moment it was in his mind to capitulate unconditionally; to tell + her that Richard should have naught to fear from him, and yet that she + should go free as the winds. Her gesture checked him. It was so eloquent + of aversion. He paused in his advance, stifled his better feelings, and + turned once more, relentless. The door opened and old Walters stood + awaiting his commands. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Westmacott is leaving,” he informed his servant, and bowed low + and formally in farewell before her. She passed out without another word, + the old butler following, and presently through the door that remained + open came Trenchard, in quest of Mr. Wilding who stood bemused. + </p> + <p> + Nick sauntered in, his left eye almost hidden by the rakish cock of his + hat, one hand tucked away under the skirts of his plum-coloured coat, the + other supporting the stem of a long clay pipe, at which he was pulling + thoughtfully. The pipe and he were all but inseparable; indeed, the year + before in London he had given appalling scandal by appearing with it in + the Mall, and had there remained him any character to lose, he must + assuredly have lost it then. + </p> + <p> + He observed his friend through narrowing eyes—he had small eyes, + very blue and very bright, in which there usually abode a roguish gleam. + </p> + <p> + “My sight, Anthony,” said he, “reminds me that I am growing old. I wonder + did it mislead me on the score of your visitor?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady who left,” said Wilding with a touch of severity, “will be + Mistress Wilding by this day se'night.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard took the pipe from his lips, audibly blew out a cloud of smoke + and stared at his friend. “Body o' me!” quoth he. “Is this a time for + marrying?—with these rumours of Monmouth's coming over.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding made an impatient gesture. “I thought to have convinced you they + are idle,” said he, and flung himself into a chair at his writing-table. + </p> + <p> + Nick came over and perched himself upon the table's edge, one leg swinging + in the air. “And what of this matter of the intercepted letter from London + to our Taunton friends?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you. But of this I am sure, His Grace is incapable of + anything so rash. Certain is it that he'll not stir until Battiscomb + returns to Holland, and Battiscomb is still in Cheshire sounding the + Duke's friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet were I you, I should not marry just at present.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding smiled. “If you were me, you'd never marry at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, no!” said Trenchard. “I'd as soon play at 'hot-cockles,' or + 'Parson-has-lost-his-cloak.' 'Tis a mort more amusing and the sooner done + with.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE ENCOUNTER + </h2> + <p> + Ruth Wesmacott rode back like one in a dream, with vague and hazy notions + of what she saw or did. So overwrought was she by the interview from which + she came, her mind so obsessed by it, that never a thought had she for + Diana and her indisposition until she arrived home to find her cousin + there before her. Diana was in tears, called up by the reproaches of her + mother, Lady Horton—the relict of that fine soldier Sir Cholmondeley + Horton, of Taunton. + </p> + <p> + The girl had arrived at Lupton House a half-hour ahead of Miss Westmacott, + and upon her arrival she had expressed surprise, either feigned or real, + at finding Ruth still absent. Detecting the alarm that Diana was careful + to throw into her voice and manner, her mother questioned her, and + elicited the story of her faintness and of Ruth's having ridden on alone + to Mr. Wilding's. So outraged was Lady Horton that for once in a way this + woman, usually so meek and ease-loving, was roused to an energy and anger + with her daughter and her niece that threatened to remove Diana at once + from the pernicious atmosphere of Lupton House and carry her home to + Taunton. Ruth found her still at her remonstrances, arrived, indeed, in + time for her share of them. + </p> + <p> + “I have been sore mistaken in you, Ruth!” the dame reproached her. “I can + scarce believe it of you. I have held you up as an example to Diana, for + the discretion and wisdom of your conduct, and you do this! You go alone + to Mr. Wilding's house—to Mr. Wilding's, of all men!” + </p> + <p> + “It was no time for ordinary measures,” said Ruth, but she spoke without + any of the heat of one who defends her conduct. She was, the slyly + watchful Diana observed, very white and tired. “It was no time to think of + nice conduct. There was Richard to be saved.” + </p> + <p> + “And was it worth ruining yourself to do that?” quoth Lady Horton, her + colour high. + </p> + <p> + “Ruining myself?” echoed Ruth, and she smiled never so weary a smile. “I + have, indeed, done that, though not in the way you mean.” + </p> + <p> + Mother and daughter eyed her, mystified. “Your good name is blasted,” said + her aunt, “unless so be that Mr. Wilding is proposing to make you his + wife.” It was a sneer the good woman could not, in her indignation, + repress. + </p> + <p> + “That is what Mr. Wilding has done me the honour to propose,” Ruth + answered bitterly, and left them gaping. “We are to be married this day + se'night.” + </p> + <p> + A dead silence followed the calm announcement. Then Diana rose. At the + misery, the anguish that could impress so strange and white a look on + Ruth's winsome face, she was smitten with remorse, her incipient + satisfaction dashed. This was her work; the fruit of her scheming. But it + had gone further than she had foreseen; and for all that no result could + better harmonize with her own ambitions and desires, for the moment—under + the first shock of that announcement—she felt guilty and grew + afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth!” she cried, her voice a whisper of stupefaction. “Oh, I wish I had + come with you!” + </p> + <p> + “But you couldn't; you were faint.” And then—recalling what had + passed—her mind was filled with sudden concern for Diana, even amid + her own sore troubles. “Are you quite yourself again, Diana?” she + inquired. + </p> + <p> + Diana answered almost fiercely, “I am quite well.” And then, with a change + to wistfulness, she added, “Oh, I would I had come with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Matters had been no different,” Ruth assured her. “It was a bargain Mr. + Wilding drove. It was the price I had to pay for Richard's life and + honour.” She swallowed hard, and let her hands fall limply to her sides. + “Where is Richard?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + It was her aunt who answered her. “He went forth half an hour agone with + Mr. Vallancey and Sir Rowland.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland had returned, then?” She looked up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Diana. “But he had achieved nothing by his visit to Lord + Gervase. His lordship would not intervene; he swore he hoped the cub would + be flayed alive by Wilding. Those were his lordship's words, as Sir + Rowland repeated them. Sir Rowland is in sore distress for Richard. He has + gone with them to the meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “At least, he has no longer cause for his distress,” said Miss Westmacott + with her bitter smile, and sank as one exhausted to a chair. Lady Horton + moved to comfort her, her motherliness all aroused for this motherless + girl, usually so wise and strong, and seemingly wiser and stronger than + ever in this thing that Lady Horton had deemed a weakness and a folly. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Richard and his two friends were on their way to the moors + across the river to the encounter with Mr. Wilding. But before they had + got him to ride forth, Vallancey had had occasion to regret that he stood + committed to a share in this quarrel, for he came to know Richard as he + really was. He had found him in an abject state, white and trembling, his + coward's fancy anticipating a hundred times a minute the death he was anon + to die. + </p> + <p> + Vallancey had hailed him cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “The day is yours, Dick,” he had cried, when Richard entered the library + where he awaited him. “Wild Wilding has ridden to Taunton this morning and + is to be back by noon. Odsbud, Dick!—twenty miles and more in the + saddle before coming on the ground. Heard you ever of the like madness? + He'll be stiff as a broom-handle—an easy victim.” + </p> + <p> + Richard listened, stared, and, finding Vallancey's eyes fixed steadily + upon him, attempted a smile and achieved a horrible grimace. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, man?” cried his second, and caught him by the wrist. He + felt the quiver of the other's limb. “Stab me!” quoth he, “you are in no + case to fight. What the plague ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am none so well this morning,” answered Richard feebly. “Lord Gervase's + claret,” he added, passing a hand across his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Gervase's claret?” echoed Vallancey in horror, as at some outrageous + blasphemy. “Frontignac at ten shillings the bottle!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Still, claret never does lie easy on my stomach,” Richard explained, + intent upon blaming Lord Gervase s wine—since he could think of + nothing else—for his condition. + </p> + <p> + Vallancey looked at him shrewdly. “My cock,” said he, “if you're to fight + we'll have to mend your temper.” He took it upon himself to ring the bell, + and to order up two bottles of Canary and one of brandy. If he was to get + his man to the ground at all—and young Vallancey had a due sense of + his responsibilities in that connection—it would be well to supply + Richard with something to replace the courage that had oozed out + overnight. Young Richard, never loath to fortify himself, proved amenable + enough to the stiffly laced Canary that his friend set before him. Then, + to divert his mind, Vallancey, with that rash freedom that had made the + whole of Somerset know him for a rebel, set himself to talk of the + Protestant Duke and his right to the crown of England. + </p> + <p> + He was still at his talk, Richard listening moodily what time he was + slowly but surely befuddling himself, when Sir Rowland—returning + from Scoresby Hall—came to bring the news of his lack of success. + Richard hailed him noisily, and bade him ring for another glass, adding, + with a burst of oaths, some appalling threats of how anon he should serve + Anthony Wilding. His wits drowned in the stiff liquor Vallancey had + pressed upon him, he seemed of a sudden to have grown as fierce and + bloodthirsty as any scourer that ever terrorized the watch. + </p> + <p> + Blake listened to him and grunted. “Body o' me!” swore the town gallant. + “If that's the humour you're going out to fight in, I'll trouble you for + the eight guineas I won from you at Primero yesterday before you start.” + </p> + <p> + Richard reared himself, by the help of the table, and stood a thought + unsteadily, his glance laboriously striving to engage Blake's. + </p> + <p> + “Damn me!” quoth he. “Your want of faith dishgraces me—and 't + 'shgraces you. Shalt ha' the guineas when we're back—and not + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” quoth Blake, to whom eight guineas were a consideration in these + bankrupt days. “And if you don't come back at all upon whom am I to draw?” + </p> + <p> + The suggestion sank through Dick's half-fuddled senses, and the scare it + gave him was reflected on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, Blake!” swore Vallancey between his teeth. “Is that a decent + way to talk to a man who is going out? Never heed him, Dick! Let him wait + for his dirty guineas till we return.” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty guineas?” hiccoughed Richard. “It was only eight. Anyhow—wait'll + I've sli' the gullet of's Mr. Wilding.” He checked on a thought that + suddenly occurred to him. He turned to Vallancey with a ludicrous + solemnity. “'Sbud!” he swore. “'S a scurvy trick I'm playing the Duke. 'S + treason to him—treason no less.” And he smote the table with his + open hand. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” quoth Blake so sharply, his eyes so suddenly alert that + Vallancey made haste to cover up his fellow rebel's indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + “It's the brandy-and-Canary makes him dream,” said he with a laugh, and + rising as he spoke he announced that it was high time they should set out. + Thus he brought about a bustle that drove the Duke's business from + Richard's mind, and left Blake without a pretext to pursue his quest for + information. But the mischief was done, and Blake's suspicions were awake. + He bethought him now of dark hints that Richard had let fall to Vallancey + in the past few days, and of hints less dark with which Vallancey—who + was a careless fellow at ordinary times—had answered. And now this + mention of the Duke and of treason to him—to what Duke could it + refer but Monmouth? + </p> + <p> + Blake was well aware of the wild tales that were going round, and he began + to wonder now was aught really afoot, and was his good friend Westmacott + in it? + </p> + <p> + If there was, he bethought him that the knowledge might be of value, and + it might help to float once more his shipwrecked fortunes. The haste with + which Vallancey had proffered a frivolous explanation of Richard's words, + the bustle with which upon the instant he swept Richard and Sir Rowland + from the house to get to horse and ride out to Bridgwater were in + themselves circumstances that went to heighten those suspicions of Sir + Rowland's. But lacking all opportunity for investigation at the moment, he + deemed it wisest to say no more just then lest he should betray his + watchfulness. + </p> + <p> + They were the first to arrive upon the ground—an open space on the + borders of Sedgemoor, in the shelter of Polden Hill. But they had not long + to wait before Wilding and Trenchard rode up, attended by a groom. Their + arrival had an oddly sobering effect upon young Westmacott, for which Mr. + Vallancey was thankful. For during their ride he had begun to fear that he + had carried too far the business of equipping his principal with + artificial valour. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard came forward to offer Vallancey the courteous suggestion that + Mr. Wilding's servant should charge himself with the care of the horses of + Mr. Westmacott's party, if this would be a convenience to them. Vallancey + thanked him and accepted the offer, and thus the groom—instructed by + Trenchard—led the five horses some distance from the spot. + </p> + <p> + It now became a matter of making preparation, and leaving Richard to + divest himself of such garments as he might deem cumbrous, Vallancey went + forward to consult with Trenchard upon the choice of ground. At that same + moment Mr. Wilding lounged forward, flicking the grass with his whip in an + absent manner. + </p> +<p> + “Mr. Vallancey,” he began, when Trenchard turned to interrupt him. +</p> + <p> + “You can leave it safely to me, Tony,” he growled. “But there is something + I wish to say, Nick,” answered Mr. Wilding, his manner mild. “By your + leave, then.” And he turned again to Valiancey. “Will you be so good as to + call Mr. Westmacott hither?” + </p> + <p> + Vallancey stared. “For what purpose, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For my purpose,” answered Mr. Wilding sweetly. “It is no longer my wish + to engage with Mr. Westmacott. + </p> + <p> + “Anthony!” cried Trenchard, and in his amazement forgot to swear. + </p> + <p> + “I propose,” added Mr. Wilding, “to relieve Mr. Westmacott of the + necessity of fighting.” + </p> + <p> + Vallancey in his heart thought this might be pleasant news for his + principal. Still, he did not quite see how the end was to be attained, and + said so. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be enlightened if you will do as I request,” Wilding insisted, + and Vallancey, with a lift of the brows, a snort, and a shrug, turned away + to comply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” quoth Trenchard, bursting with indignation, “that you will + let live a man who has struck you?” + </p> + <p> + Wilding took his friend affectionately by the arm. “It is a whim of mine,” + said he. “Do you think, Nick, that it is more than I can afford to + indulge?” + </p> + <p> + “I say not so,” was the ready answer; “but...” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd not,” said Mr. Wilding, interrupting. “And if any does—why, + I shall be glad to prove it upon him that he lies.” He laughed, and + Trenchard, vexed though he was, was forced to laugh with him. Then Nick + set himself to urge the thing that last night had plagued his mind: that + this Richard might prove a danger to the Cause; that in the Duke's + interest, if not to safeguard his own person from some vindictive + betrayal, Wilding would be better advised in imposing a reliable silence + upon him. + </p> + <p> + “But why vindictive?” Mr. Wilding remonstrated. “Rather must he have cause + for gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trenchard laughed short and contemptuously. “There is,” said he, “no + rancour more bitter than that of the mean man who has offended you and + whom you have spared. I beg you'll ponder it.” He lowered his voice as he + ended his admonition, for Vallancey and Westmacott were coming up, + followed by Sir Rowland Blake. + </p> + <p> + Richard, although his courage had been sinking lower and lower in a + measure as he had grown more and more sober with the approach of the + moment for engaging, came forward now with a firm step and an arrogant + mien; for Vallancey had given him more than a hint of what was toward. His + heart had leapt, not only at the deliverance that was promised him, but + out of satisfaction at the reflection of how accurately last night he had + gauged what Mr. Wilding would endure. It had dismayed him then, as we have + seen, that this man who, he thought, must stomach any affront from him out + of consideration for his sister, should have ended by calling him to + account. He concluded now that upon reflection Wilding had seen his error, + and was prepared to make amends that he might extricate himself from an + impossible situation, and Richard blamed himself for having overlooked + this inevitable solution and given way to idle panic. + </p> + <p> + Vallancey and Blake watching him, and the sudden metamorphosis that was + wrought in him, despised him heartily, and yet were glad—for the + sake of their association with him—that things were as they were. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Westmacott,” said Wilding quietly, his eyes steadily set upon + Richard's own arrogant gaze, his lips smiling a little, “I am here not to + fight, but to apologize.” + </p> + <p> + Richard's sneer was audible to all. Oh, he was gathering courage fast now + that there no longer was the need for it. It urged him to lengths of + daring possible only to a fool. + </p> + <p> + “If you can take a blow, Mr. Wilding,” said he offensively, “that is your + own affair.” + </p> + <p> + And his friends gasped at his temerity and trembled for him, not knowing + what grounds he had for counting himself unassailable. + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” said Mr. Wilding, as meek and humble as a nun, and Trenchard, + who had expected something very different from him, swore aloud and with + some circumstance of oaths. “The fact is,” continued Mr. Wilding, “that + what I did last night, I did in the heat of wine, and I am sorry for it. I + recognize that this quarrel is of my provoking; that it was unwarrantable + in me to introduce the name of Mistress Westmacott, no matter how + respectfully; and that in doing so I gave Mr. Westmacott ample grounds for + offence. For that I beg his pardon, and I venture to hope that this matter + need go no further.” + </p> + <p> + Vallancey and Blake were speechless in astonishment; Trenchard livid with + fury. Westmacott moved a step or two forward, a swagger unmistakable in + his gait, his nether-lip thrust out in a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, his voice mighty disdainful, “if Mr. Wilding apologizes, + the matter hardly can go further.” He conveyed such a suggestion of regret + at this that Trenchard bounded forward, stung to speech. + </p> + <p> + “But if Mr. Westmacott's disappointment threatens to overwhelm him,” he + snapped, very tartly, “I am his humble servant, and he may call upon me to + see that he's not robbed of the exercise he came to take.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding set a restraining hand upon Trenchard's arm. + </p> + <p> + Westmacott turned to him, the sneer, however, gone from his face. + </p> + <p> + “I have no quarrel with you, sir,” said he, with an uneasy assumption of + dignity. + </p> + <p> + “It's a want that may be soon supplied,” answered Trenchard briskly, and, + as he afterwards confessed, had not Wilding checked him at that moment, he + had thrown his hat in Richard's face. + </p> + <p> + It was Vallancey who saved the situation, cursing in his heart the bearing + of his principal. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding,” said he, “this is very handsome in you. You are of the + happy few who may tender such an apology without reflection upon your + courage.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding made him a leg very elegantly. “You are vastly kind, sir,” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “You have given Mr. Westmacott the fullest satisfaction, and it is with an + increased respect for you—if that were possible—that I + acknowledge it on my friend's behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, sir, a very mirror of the elegancies,” said Mr. Wilding, and + Vallancey wondered was he being laughed at. Whether he was or not, he + conceived that he had done the only seemly thing. He had made handsome + acknowledgment of a handsome apology, stung to it by the currishness of + Richard. + </p> + <p> + And there the matter ended, despite Trenchard's burning eagerness to carry + it himself to a different consummation. Wilding prevailed upon him, and + withdrew him from the field. But as they rode back to Zoyland Chase the + old rake was bitter in his inveighings against Wilding's folly and + weakness. + </p> + <p> + “I pray Heaven,” he kept repeating, “that it may not come to cost you + dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Have done,” said Mr. Wilding, a trifle out of patience. “Could I wed the + sister having slain the brother?” + </p> + <p> + And Trenchard, understanding at last, accounted himself a numskull that he + had not understood before. But he none the less deemed it a pity Richard + had been spared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE CHAMPION + </h2> + <p> + As vainglorious was Richard Westmacott's retreat from the field of + unstricken battle as his advance upon it had been inglorious. He spoke + with confidence now of the narrow escape that Wilding had had at his + hands, of the things he would have done to Wilding had not that gentleman + grown wise in time. Sir Rowland, who had seen little of Richard's earlier + stricken condition, was in a measure imposed upon by his blustering tone + and manner; not so Vallancey, who remembered the steps he had been forced + to take to bolster up the young man's courage sufficiently to admit of his + being brought to the encounter. Richard so disgusted him that he felt if + he did not quit his company soon, he would be quarrelling with him + himself. So, congratulating him, in a caustic manner that Richard did not + relish, upon the happy termination of the affair, Vallancey took his leave + of him and Blake at the cross-roads, pleading business with Lord Gervase, + and left them to proceed without him to Bridgwater. + </p> + <p> + Blake, whose suspicions of some secret matter to which Vallancey and + Richard were wedded, had been earlier excited by Westmacott's + indiscretions, was full of sly questions now touching the business which + might be taking Vallancey to Scoresby. But Richard was too full of the + subject of the fear he had instilled into Wilding to afford his companion + much satisfaction on any other score. Thus they came to Lupton House, and + as Richard swaggered down the lawn into the presence of the ladies—Ruth + and her aunt were occupying the stone bench, Diana the circular seat about + the great oak in the centre of the lawn—he was a very different + person from the pale, limp creature they had beheld there some few hours + earlier. Loud and offensive was he now in self-laudation, and so + indifferent to all else that he left unobserved the little smile, half + wistful, half scornful, that visited his sister's lips when he sneeringly + told how Mr. Wilding had chosen that better part of valour which + discretion is alleged to be. + </p> + <p> + It needed Diana, who, blinded by no sisterly affection, saw him exactly as + he was, and despised him accordingly, to enlighten him. It may also be + that in doing so at once she had ends of her own to serve; for Sir Rowland + was still of the company. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding afraid?” she cried, her voice so charged with derision that + it inclined to shrillness. “La! Richard, Mr. Wilding was never afraid of + any man.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith!” said Rowland, although his acquaintance with Mr. Wilding was + slight and recent. “It is what I should think. He does not look like a man + familiar with fear.” + </p> + <p> + Richard struck something of an attitude, his fair face flushed, his pale + eyes glittering. “He took a blow,” said he, and sneered. + </p> + <p> + “There may have been reasons,” Diana suggested darkly, and Sir Rowland's + eyes narrowed at the hint. + </p> + <p> +Again he recalled the words Richard had let fall that afternoon. Wilding +and he were fellow workers in some secret business, and Richard had said +that the encounter was treason to that same business, whatever it might +be. And of what it might be Sir Rowland had grounds upon which to found +at least a guess. Had perhaps Wilding acted upon some similar feelings +in avoiding the duel? He wondered; and when Richard dismissed Diana's +challenge with a fatuous laugh, it was Blake who took it up. +</p> + <p> +“You speak, ma'am,” said he, “as if you knew that there were +reasons, and knew, too, what those reasons might be.” + </p> + <p> + Diana looked at Ruth, as if for guidance before replying. But Ruth sat + calm and seemingly impassive, looking straight before her. She was, + indeed, indifferent how much Diana said, for in any case the matter could + not remain a secret long. Lady Horton, silent too and listening, looked a + question at her daughter. + </p> + <p> + And so, after a pause: “I know both,” said Diana, her eyes straying again + to Ruth; and a subtler man than Blake would have read that glance and + understood that this same reason which he sought so diligently sat there + before him. + </p> + <p> + Richard, indeed, catching that sly look of his cousin's, checked his + assurance, and stood frowning, cogitating. Then, quite suddenly, his voice + harsh: + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Diana?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Diana shrugged and turned her shoulder to him. “You had best ask Ruth,” + said she, which was an answer more or less plain to both the men. + </p> + <p> + They stood at gaze, Richard looking a thought foolish. Blake, frowning, + his heavy lip caught in his strong, white teeth. + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned to her brother with an almost piteous attempt at a smile. She + sought to spare him pain by excluding from her manner all suggestion that + things were other than she desired. + </p> + <p> + “I am betrothed to Mr. Wilding,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland made a sudden forward movement, drew a deep breath, and as + suddenly stood still. Richard looked at his sister as she were mad and + raving. Then he laughed, between unbelief and derision. + </p> + <p> + “It is a jest,” said he, but his accents lacked conviction. + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth,” Ruth assured him quietly. + </p> +<p> + “The truth?” His brow darkened ominously—stupendously for one so +fair. “The truth, you baggage...?” He began and stopped in very fury. +</p> + <p> + She saw that she must tell him all. + </p> + <p> + “I promised to wed Mr. Wilding this day se'night so that he saved your + life and honour,” she told him calmly, and added, “It was a bargain that + we drove.” Richard continued to stare at her. The thing she told him was + too big to be swallowed at a mouthful; he was absorbing it by slow + degrees. + </p> + <p> + “So now,” said Diana, “you know the sacrifice your sister has made to save + you, and when you speak of the apology Mr. Wilding tendered you, perhaps + you'll speak of it in a tone less loud.” + </p> + <p> + But the sarcasm was no longer needed. Already poor Richard was very + humble, his make-believe spirit all snuffed out. He observed at last how + pale and set was his sister's face, and he realized something of the + sacrifice she had made. Never in all his life was Richard so near to + lapsing from the love of himself; never so near to forgetting his own + interests, and preferring those of Ruth. Lady Horton sat silent, her heart + fluttering with dismay and perplexity. Heaven had not equipped her with a + spirit capable of dealing with a situation such as this. Blake stood in + make believe stolidity dissembling his infinite chagrin and the stormy + emotions warring within him, for some signs of which Diana watched his + countenance in vain. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not do it!” cried Richard suddenly. He came forward and laid + his hand on his sister's shoulder. His voice was almost gentle. “Ruth, you + shall not do this for me. You must not.” + </p> +<p> +“By Heaven, no!” snapped Blake before she could reply. “You are right, +Richard. Mistress Westmacott must not be the scapegoat. She shall not +play the part of Iphigenia.” + </p> + <p> + But Ruth smiled wistfully as she answered him with a question, +“Where is the help for it?” + </p> + <p> + Richard knew where the help for it lay, and for once—for just a + moment—he contemplated danger and even death with equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “I can take up this quarrel again,” he announced. “I can compel Mr. + Wilding to meet me.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's eyes, looking up at him, kindled with pride and admiration. It + warmed her heart to hear him speak thus, to have this assurance that he + was anything but the coward she had been so disloyal as to deem him; no + doubt she had been right in saying that it was his health was the cause of + the palsy he had displayed that morning; he was a little wild, she knew; + inclined to sit over-late at the bottle; with advancing manhood, she had + no doubt, he would overcome this boyish failing. Meanwhile it was this + foolish habit—nothing more—that undermined the inherent + firmness of his nature. And it comforted her generous soul to have this + proof that he was full worthy of the sacrifice she was making for him. + Diana watched him in some surprise, and never doubted but that his offer + was impulsive, and that he would regret it when his ardour had had time to + cool. + </p> +<p> +“It were idle,” said Ruth at last—not that she quite believed it, but +that it was all-important to her that Richard should not be imperilled. +“Mr. Wilding will prefer the bargain he has made.” + </p> + <p> +“No doubt,” growled Blake, “but he shall be forced to unmake it.” + He advanced and bowed low before her. “Madam,” said he, “will you grant +me leave to champion your cause and remove this troublesome Mr. Wilding +from your path?” + </p> + <p> + Diana's eyes narrowed; her cheeks paled, partly from fear for Blake, + partly from vexation at the promptness of an offer that afforded a fresh + and so eloquent proof of the trend of his affections. + </p> + <p> + Ruth smiled at him in a very friendly manner, but gently shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” said she. “But it were more than I could permit. This + has become a family affair.” + </p> + <p> + There was in her tone something which, despite its friendliness, gave Sir + Rowland his dismissal. He was not at best a man of keen sensibilities; yet + even so, he could not mistake the request to withdraw that was implicit in + her tone and manner. He took his leave, registering, however, in his heart + a vow that he would have his way with Wilding. Thus must he—through + her gratitude—assuredly come to have his way with Ruth. + </p> + <p> + Diana rose and turned to her mother. “Come,” she said, “we'll speed Sir + Rowland. Ruth and Richard would perhaps prefer to remain alone.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth thanked her with her eyes. Richard, standing beside his sister with + bent head and moody gaze, did not appear to have heard. Thus he remained + until he and his half-sister were alone together, then he flung himself + wearily into the seat beside her, and took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” he faltered, “Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + She stroked his hand, her honest, intelligent eyes bent upon him in a look + of pity—and to indulge this pity for him, she forgot how much + herself she needed pity. + </p> + <p> + “Take it not so to heart,” she urged him, her voice low and crooning + —as that of a mother to her babe. “Take it not so to heart, Richard. + I should have married some day, and, after all, it may well be that Mr. + Wilding will make me as good a husband as another. I do believe,” she + added, her only intent to comfort Richard; “that he loves me; and if he + loves me, surely he will prove kind.” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself back with an exclamation of angry pain. He was white to + the lips, his eyes bloodshot. “It must not be—it shall not be—I'll + not endure it!” he cried hoarsely. + </p> +<p> +“Richard, dear...” she began, recapturing the hand he had snatched from +hers in his gust of emotion. +</p> + <p> + He rose abruptly, interrupting her. “I'll go to Wilding now,” he +cried, his voice resolute. “He shall cancel this bargain he had no right +to make. He shall take up his quarrel with me where it stood before you +went to him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Richard, you must not!” she urged him, frightened, rising too, + and clinging to his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” he answered. “At the worst he can but kill me. But at least you + shall not be sacrificed.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit here, Richard,” she bade him. “There is something you have not + considered. If you die, if Mr. Wilding kills you...” she paused. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, and at the repetition of the fate that would probably + await him if he persevered in the course he threatened, his purely + emotional courage again began to fail him. A look of fear crept gradually + into his face to take the room of the resolution that had been stamped + upon it but a moment since. + </p> + <p> + He swallowed hard. “What then?” he asked, his voice harsh, and, obeying + her command and the pressure on his hand, he resumed his seat beside her. + </p> + <p> + She spoke now at length and very gravely, dwelling upon the circumstance + that he was the head of the family, the last Westmacott of his line, + pointing out to him the importance of his existence, the insignificance of + her own. She was but a girl, a thing of small account where the + perpetuation of a family was at issue. After all, she must marry somebody + some day, she repeated, and perhaps she had been foolish in attaching too + much importance to the tales she had heard of Mr. Wilding. Probably he was + no worse than other men, and after all he was a gentleman of wealth and + position, such a man as half the women in Somerset might be proud to own + for husband. + </p> + <p> + Her arguments and his weakness—his returning cowardice, which made + him lend an ear to those same arguments—prevailed with him; at least + they convinced him that he was far too important a person to risk his life + in this quarrel upon which he had so rashly entered. He did not say that + he was convinced; but he said that he would give the matter thought, + hinting that perhaps some other way might present itself of cancelling the + bargain she had made. They had a week before them, and in any case he + promised readily in answer to her entreaties—for her faith in him + was a thing unquenchable—that he would do nothing without taking + counsel with her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Diana had escorted Sir Rowland to the main gates of Lupton + House, in front of which Miss Westmacott's groom was walking his horse, + awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland,” said she at parting, “your chivalry makes you take this + matter too deeply to heart. You overlook the possibility that my cousin + may have good reason for not desiring your interference.” + </p> + <p> + He looked keenly at this little lady to whom a month ago he had been on + the point of offering marriage. His coxcombry might readily have suggested + to him that she was in love with him, but that his conscience and + inclinations urged him to assure himself that this was not the case. + </p> + <p> + “What shall that mean, madam?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + Diana hesitated. “What I have said is plain,” she answered, and it was + clear that she held something back. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland flattered himself upon the shrewdness with which he read her, + never dreaming that he had but read just what she intended he should. + </p> + <p> + He stood squarely before her, shaking his great head. “Not plain enough + for me,” he said. Then his tone softened to one of prayer. “Tell me,” he + besought her. + </p> + <p> + “I can't! I can't!” she cried in feigned distress. “It were too disloyal.” + </p> + <p> + He frowned. He caught her arm and pressed it, his heart sick with jealous + alarm. “What do you mean? Tell me, tell me, Mistress Horton.” + </p> + <p> + Diana lowered her eyes. “You'll not betray me?” she stipulated. + </p> +<p> + “Why, no. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + She flushed delicately. “I am disloyal to Ruth,” she said, “and yet I am + loath to see you cozened.” + </p> + <p> + “Cozened?” quoth he hoarsely, his egregious vanity in arms. “Cozened?” + </p> + <p> + Diana explained. “Ruth was at his house to-day,” said she, “closeted alone + with him for an hour or more.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Where else was the bargain made?” she asked, and shattered his last + doubt. “You know that Mr. Wilding has not been here.” + </p> + <p> + Yet Blake struggled heroically against conviction. + </p> + <p> + “She went to intercede for Richard,” he protested. Miss Horton looked up + at him, and under her glance Sir Rowland felt that he was a man of + unfathomable ignorance. Then she turned aside her eyes and shrugged her + shoulders very eloquently. “You are a man of the world, Sir Rowland. You + cannot seriously suppose that any maid would so imperil her good name in + any cause?” + </p> + <p> + Darker grew his florid countenance; his bulging eyes looked troubled and + perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that she loves him?” he said, between question and assertion. + </p> + <p> + Diana pursed her lips. “You shall draw your own inference,” quoth she. + </p> + <p> + He breathed heavily, and squared his broad shoulders, as one who braces + himself for battle against an element stronger than himself. + </p> + <p> + “But her talk of sacrifice?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Diana laughed, and again he was stung by her contempt of his perceptions. + “Her brother is set against her marrying him,” said she. “Here was her + chance. Is it not very plain?” + </p> + <p> + Doubt stared from his eyes. “Why do you tell me this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I esteem you, Sir Rowland,” she answered very gently. “I would + not have you meddle in a matter you cannot mend.” + </p> + <p> + “Which I am not desired to mend, say rather,” he replied with heavy + sarcasm. “She would not have my interference!” He laughed angrily. “I + think you are right, Mistress Diana,” he said, “and I think that more than + ever is there the need to kill this Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + He took his departure abruptly, leaving her scared at the mischief she had + made for him in seeking to save him from it, and that very night he sought + out Wilding. + </p> + <p> + But Wilding was from home again. Under its placid surface the West Country + was in a ferment. And if hitherto Mr. Wilding had disdained the insistent + rumours of Monmouth's coming, his assurance was shaken now by proof that + the Government, itself, was stirring; for four companies of foot and a + troop of horse had been that day ordered to Taunton by the + Deputy-Lieutenant. Wilding was gone with Trenchard to White Lackington in + a vain hope that there he might find news to confirm his persisting + unbelief in any such rashness as was alleged on Monmouth's part. + </p> + <p> + So Blake was forced to wait, but his purpose suffered nothing by delay. + </p> + <p> + Returning on the morrow, he found Mr. Wilding at table with Nick + Trenchard, and he cut short the greetings of both men. He flung his hat—a + black castor trimmed with a black feather—rudely among the dishes on + the board. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to ask you, Mr. Wilding,” said he, “to be so good as to tell + me the colour of that hat.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding raised one eyebrow and looked aslant at Trenchard, whose + weather-beaten face was suddenly agrin with stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + “I could not,” said Mr. Wilding, “deny an answer to a question set so + courteously.” He looked up into Blake's flushed and scowling face with the + sweetest and most innocent of smiles. “You'll no doubt disagree with me,” + said he, “but I love to meet a man halfway. Your hat, sir, is as white as + virgin snow.” + </p> + <p> + Blake's slow wits were disconcerted for a moment. Then he smiled + viciously. “You mistake, Mr. Wilding,” said he. “My hat is black.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding looked more attentively at the object in dispute. He was in a + trifling mood, and the stupidity of this runagate debtor afforded him + opportunities to indulge it. “Why, true,” said he, “now that I come to + look, I perceive that it is indeed black.” + </p> + <p> + And again was Sir Rowland disconcerted. Still he pursued the lesson he had + taught himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken again,” said he, “that hat is green.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” quoth Mr. Wilding, like one surprised and he turned to + Trenchard, who was enjoying himself. “What is your own opinion of it, + Nick?” + </p> + <p> + Thus appealed to, Trenchard's reply was prompt. “Why, since you ask me,” + said he, “my opinion is that it's a noisome thing not meet for a + gentleman's table.” And he took it up, and threw it through the window. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland was entirely put out of countenance. Here was a deliberate + shifting of the quarrel he had come to pick, which left him all at sea. It + was his duty to himself to take offence at Mr. Trenchard's action. But + that was not the business on which he had come. He became angry. + </p> + <p> + “Blister me!” he cried. “Must I sweep the cloth from the table before + you'll understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “If you were to do anything so unmannerly I should have you flung out of + the house,” said Mr. Wilding, “and it would distress me so to treat a + person of your station and quality. The hat shall serve your purpose, + although Mr. Trenchard's concern for my table has removed it. Our memories + will supply its absence. What colour did you say it was?” + </p> + <p> + “I said it was green,” answered Blake, quite ready to keep to the point. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I am sure you were wrong,” said Wilding with a grave air. “Although + I admit that since it is your own hat, you should be the best judge of its + colour, I am, nevertheless, of opinion that it is black.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I were to say that it is white?” asked Blake, feeling mighty + ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “Why, in that case you would be confirming my first impression of it,” + answered Wilding, and Trenchard let fly a burst of laughter at sight of + the baronet's furious and bewildered countenance. “And since we are agreed + on that,” continued Mr. Wilding, imperturbable, “I hope you'll join us at + supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be damned,” roared Blake, “if ever I sit at table of yours, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Wilding regretfully. “Now you become offensive.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to be,” said Blake. + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me!” + </p> + <p> + “You lie! I don't,” Sir Rowland answered him in triumph. He had got it out + at last. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding sat back in his chair, and looked at him, his face + inexpressibly shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Will you of your own accord deprive us of your company, Sir Rowland,” he + wondered, “or shall Mr. Trenchard throw you after your hat?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean...” gasped the other, “that you'll ask no satisfaction of + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so. Mr. Trenchard shall wait upon your friends to-morrow, and I hope + you'll afford us then as felicitous entertainment as you do now.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland snorted, and, turning on his heel, made for the door. + </p> + <p> + “Give you a good night, Sir Rowland,” Mr. Wilding called after him. + “Walters, you rascal, light Sir Rowland to the door.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Blake went home deeply vexed; but it was no more than the beginning + of his humiliation at Mr. Wilding's hands—for what can be more + humiliating to a quarrel—seeking man than to have his enemy refuse + to treat him seriously? He and Mr. Wilding met next morning, and before + noon the tale of it had run through Bridgwater that Wild Wilding was at + his tricks again. It made a pretty story how twice he had disarmed and + each time spared the London beau, who still insisted—each time more + furiously—upon renewing the encounter, till Mr. Wilding had been + forced to run him through the sword-arm and thus put him out of all case + of continuing. It was a story that heaped ridicule upon Sir Rowland and + did credit to Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Richard heard it, and trembled, enraged and impotent. Ruth heard it, and + was stirred despite herself to a feeling of gratitude towards Wilding for + the patience and toleration he had displayed. + </p> + <p> + There for a while the matter rested, and the days passed slowly. But Sir + Rowland's nature—mean at bottom—was spurred to find him some + other way of wiping out the score that lay 'twixt him and Mr. Wilding, a + score mightily increased by the shame that Mr. Wilding had put upon him in + that encounter from which—whatever the issue—he had looked to + cull great credit in Ruth's eyes. + </p> + <p> + He had been thinking constantly of the incautious words that Richard had + let fall, thinking of them in conjunction with the startling rumours that + were now the talk of the whole countryside. He laid two and two together, + and the four he found them make afforded him some hope. Then he realized—as + he might have realized before had he been shrewder—that Richard's + mood was one that made him ripe for any villainy. He thought that he was + much in error if a treachery existed so black that Richard would quail + before it, if it but afforded him the means of ridding himself and the + world of Mr. Wilding. He was considering how best to approach the subject, + when it happened that one night when Richard sat at play with him in his + own lodging, the boy grew talkative through excess of wine. It happened + naturally enough that Richard sought an ally in Blake, just as Blake + sought an ally in Richard. Indeed, their fortunes—so far as Ruth was + concerned—were bound up together. The baronet saw that Richard, + half-fuddled, was ripe for any confidences that might aim at the + destruction of his enemy. He questioned him adroitly, and drew from him + the story of the rising that was being planned, and of the share that Mr. + Wilding—one of the Duke of Monmouth's chief movement-men—bore + in the business that was toward. + </p> + <p> + When, towards midnight, Richard Westmacott went home, he left in Sir + Rowland's hands an instrument which the latter accounted potential not + only for the destruction of Anthony Wilding, but perhaps also for laying + the foundations to the building of his own fortunes anew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE NUPTIALS OF RUTH WESTMACOTT + </h2> + <p> + Here was Sir Rowland Blake in high fettle at knowing himself armed with a + portentous weapon for the destruction of Anthony Wilding. Upon closer + inspection of it, however, he came to realize—as Richard had + realized earlier—that it was double-edged, and that the wielding of + it must be fraught with as much danger for Richard as for their common + enemy. For to betray Mr. Wilding and the plot would scarce be possible + without betraying young Westmacott, and that was unthinkable, since to + ruin Richard—a thing he would have done with a light heart so far as + Richard was himself concerned—would be to ruin his own hopes of + winning Ruth. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, during the days that followed, Sir Rowland was forced to fret + in idleness what time his wound was healing; but if his arm was invalided, + his eyes and ears were sound, and he remained watchful for an opportunity + to apply the knowledge he had gained. Richard mentioned the subject no + more, so that Blake almost came to wonder whether the boy remembered what + in his cups he had betrayed. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Wilding moved serene and smiling on his way. Daily there + were great armfuls of flowers deposited at Lupton House—his lover's + offering to his mistress—and no day went by but that some richer + gift accompanied them. Now it was a collar of brilliants, anon a rope of + pearls, again a priceless ring that had been Mr. Wilding's mother's. Ruth + received with reluctance these pledges of his undesired affection. It were + idle to reject them, considering that she was to marry him; yet it hurt + her sorely to retain them. On her side she made no dispositions for the + marriage, but went about her daily tasks as though she were to remain a + maid at Lupton House for a time as yet indefinite. + </p> + <p> + In Diana, Wilding had—though he was far from guessing it—an + entirely exceptional ally. Lady Horton, too, was favourably disposed + towards him. A foolish, worldly woman, who never probed beneath life's + surface, nor indeed dreamed that anything existed in life beyond that to + which her five senses testified, she was content placidly to contemplate + the advantages that must accrue to her niece from this alliance. + </p> + <p> + And so mother and daughter in Mr. Wilding's absence pleaded his cause with + his refractory bride-elect. But they pleaded it to little real purpose. + Something perhaps they achieved in that Ruth grew more or less resigned to + the fate that awaited her. By repeating to herself the arguments she had + employed to Richard—that she must wed some day, and that Mr. Wilding + would prove no doubt as good a husband as another—she came in a + measure to believe them. + </p> + <p> + Richard meanwhile appeared to avoid her. Lacking the courage to adopt the + heroic measures which at first he had promised, yet had he grace enough to + take shame at his inaction. But if he was idle so far as Mr. Wilding was + concerned, there was no lack of work for him in other connections. The + clouds of war were gathering in that summer sky, and about to loose the + storm gestating in them upon that fair country of the West, and young + Westmacott, committed as he stood to the Duke of Monmouth's party, was + forced to take his share in the surreptitious bustle that was toward. He + was away two days in that week, having been summoned to a meeting of the + leading gentlemen of the party at White Lackington, where he was forced + into the unwelcome company of his future brother-in-law, to meet with + courteous, deferential treatment from that imperturbable gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Wilding, indeed, seemed to have forgotten that any quarrel had ever + existed between them. For the rest, he came and went, supremely calm, as + if he were, and knew himself to be, most welcome at Lupton House. Thrice + in the course of that week of waiting he rode over from Zoyland Chase to + pay his duty to Mistress Westmacott, and Ruth was persuaded on each + occasion by her aunt and cousin to receive him. Indeed, how could she well + refuse? + </p> +<p> +His manner was ever all that could be desired. Gallant, affectionate, +deferential. He was in word and look and tone Ruth's most obedient +servant. Had she been less prejudiced she must have admired the +admirable restraint with which he kept all exultation from his manner, +for, after all, it is difficult to force a victory as he had forced his, +and not to triumph. +</p> + <p> + It is to be feared that during that week he neglected a good deal +of his duty to the Duke, leaving Trenchard to supply his place and +undertake tasks of a seditious nature that should have been his own. +</p> + <p> + At heart, however, in spite of the stories current and the militia at + Taunton, Wilding remained convinced—as did most of the other leading + partisans of the Protestant Cause—that no such madness as this + premature landing could be in contemplation by the Duke. Besides, were it + so, they must unfailingly have definite word of it; and they had none. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard was less assured, but Wilding laughed at the old rake's + forebodings, and serenely went about the business of his marriage. + </p> + <p> + On the eve of the wedding he paid Ruth his last visit in the quality of a + lover, and was received by her in the garden. He found her looking paler + than her wont, and there was a cloud of sadness on her brow, a haunting + sadness in her eyes. It touched him to the soul, and for a moment he + wavered in his purpose. He stood beside her—she seated on the old + lichened seat—and a silence fell between them, during which Mr. + Wilding's conscience wrestled with his stronger passion. It was his habit + to be glib, talking incessantly what time he was in her company, and + seeing to it that his talk was shallow and touched at nothing belonging to + the deeps of human life. Thus was it, perhaps, that this sudden and + enduring silence affected her most oddly; it was as if she had absorbed + some notion of what was passing in his mind. She looked up suddenly into + his face, so white and so composed. Their eyes met, and he stooped to her + suddenly, his long brown ringlets tumbling forward. She feared his kiss, + yet never moved, staring up with fixed, dilated eyes as if fascinated by + his dark, brooding gaze. He paused, hovering above her upturned face as + hovers the hawk above the dove. + </p> + <p> + “Child,” he said at last, and his voice was soft and winning from very + sadness, “child, why do you fear me?” + </p> + <p> + The truth of it went home to her. She feared him; she feared the strength + that lay behind that calm; she feared the masterfulness of his wild but + inscrutably hidden nature; she was afraid to surrender to such a man as + this, afraid that in the hot crucible of his love her own nature would be + dissolved, transmuted, and rendered part of his. Yet, though the truth was + now made plain to her, she thrust it from her. + </p> + <p> + “I do not fear you,” said she, and her voice at least rang fearlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hate me, then?” he asked. Her glance grew troubled and fell away + from his; it sought the calm of the river, gleaming golden in the sunset. + There was a pause. Wilding sighed heavily, and straightened himself from + his bending posture. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have sought thus to compel me, she said presently. + </p> + <p> + “I own it,” he answered a thought bitterly. “I own it. Yet what hope had I + but in compulsion?” She returned him no answer. “You see,” he said, with + increasing bitterness, “you see, that had I not seized the chance that was + mine to win you by compulsion I had not won you at all.” + </p> + <p> + “It might,” said she, “have been better so for both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Better for neither,” he replied. “Ah, think it not! In time, I swear, you + shall not think it. For you shall come to love me, Ruth,” he added with a + note of such assurance that she turned to meet again his gaze. He answered + the wordless question of her eyes. “There is,” said he, “no love of man + for woman, so that the man be not wholly unworthy, so that his passion be + sincere and strong, that can fail in time to arouse response.” She smiled + a little pitiful smile of unbelief. “Were I a boy,” he rejoined, his + earnestness vibrating now in a voice that was usually so calm and level, + “offering you protestations of a callow worship, you might have cause to + doubt me. But I am a man, Ruth—a tried, and haply a sinful man, + alas!—a man who needs you, and who will have you at all costs.” + </p> + <p> + “At all costs?” she echoed, and her lip took on a curl. “And you call this + egotism by the name of love! No doubt you are right,” she continued with + an irony that stung him, “for love it is—love of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And is not all love of another founded upon the love of self?” he asked + her, startling her with a question that revealed to her clear-sighted mind + a truth undreamed of. “When some day—please Heaven—I come to + find favour in your eyes, and you come to love me, what will it mean but + that you have come to find me necessary to yourself and to your happiness? + Would you deny me now your love if you felt that you had need of mine? I + love you because I love myself, you say. I grant it you. But you'll + confess that if you do not love me yet, it is for the same reason, and + that when you do come to love me the reason will be still the same.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very sure that I shall come to love you,” said she, shifting + woman-like the ground of argument now that she found insecure the place on + which at first she had taken her stand. + </p> + <p> + “Were I not, think you I should compel you to the church to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + She trembled at his calm assurance. It was as if she almost feared that + what he said might come to pass. + </p> + <p> + “Since you bear such faith in your heart,” said she, “were it not nobler, + more generous, that you should set yourself to win me first and wed me + afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the course I should, myself, prefer,” he answered quietly. “But it + is a course denied me. I was viewed here with disfavour, almost denied + your house. What chance had I whilst I might not come near you, whilst + your mind was poisoned against me by the idle, vicious prattle that goes + round and round the countryside, increasing ever in bulk from constant + repetition?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you say that these tales are groundless?” she asked, with a sudden + lifting of the eyes, a sudden keen eagerness that did not escape him. + </p> + <p> + “I would to God I could,” he cried, “since from your manner I see that + would improve me in your sight. But there is just sufficient truth in them + to forbid me, as I am, I hope, a gentleman, from giving them a full + denial. Yet in what am I worse than my fellows? Are you of those who think + a husband should come to them as one whose youth has been the youth of + cloistered nun? Heaven knows, I am not one to draw parallels 'twixt myself + and any other, yet you compel me. Whilst you deny me, you receive this + fellow Blake—a London night-scourer, a broken gamester who has given + his creditors leg-bail, and who woos you that with your fortune he may + close the doors of the debtor's gaol that's open to receive him.” + </p> + <p> + “This is unworthy in you,” she exclaimed, her tone indignant—so + indignant that he experienced his first pang of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “It would be were I his rival,” he answered quietly. “But I am not. I have + saved you from becoming the prey of such as he by forcing you to marry + me.” + </p> + <p> + “That I may become the prey of such as you, instead,” was her retort. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her a moment, smiling sadly. Then, with pardonable + self-esteem when we think of what manner of man it was with whom he now + compared himself, “Surely,” said he, “it is better to become the prey of + the lion than the jackal.” + </p> + <p> + “To the victim it can matter little,” she answered, and he saw the tears + gathering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Compassion moved him. It rose in arms to batter down his will, and in a + weaker man had triumphed. Mr. Wilding bent his knee and went down beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “I swear,” he said impassionedly, “that as my wife you shall never count + yourself a victim. You shall be honoured by all men, but by none more + deeply than by him who will ever strive to be worthy of the proud title of + your husband.” He took her hand and kissed it reverentially. He rose and + looked at her. “To-morrow,” he said, and bowing low before her went his + way, leaving her with emotions that found their vent in tears, but defied + her maiden mind to understand them. + </p> + <p> + The morrow came her wedding-day—a sunny day of early June, and Ruth—assisted + by Diana and Lady Horton—made preparation for her marriage as + spirited women have made preparation for the scaffold, determined to show + the world a brave, serene exterior. The sacrifice was necessary for + Richard's sake. That was a thing long since determined. Yet it would have + been some comfort to her to have had Richard at her side; it would have + lent her strength to have had his kiss of thanks for the holocaust which + for him she was making of all that a woman holds most dear and sacred. But + Richard was away—he had been absent since yesterday, and none could + tell her where he tarried. + </p> + <p> + With Lady Horton and Diana she took her way to Saint Mary's Church at + noon, and there she found Mr. Wilding—very fine in a suit of + sky-blue satin, laced with silver—awaiting her. And with him was old + Lord Gervase Scoresby, his friend and cousin, the very incarnation of + benignity and ruddy health. + </p> + <p> + For a wonder Nick Trenchard was not at Mr. Wilding's side. But Nick had + definitely refused to be of the party, emphasizing his refusal by certain + choice reflections wholly unflattering to the married state. + </p> + <p> + Some idlers of the town were the only witnesses—and little did they + guess the extent of the tragedy they were witnessing. There was no music, + and the ceremony was brief and soon at an end. The only touch of joy, of + festiveness, was that afforded by the choice blooms with which Mr. Wilding + had smothered nave and choir and altar-rails. Their perfume hung heavy as + incense in the temple. + </p> + <p> + “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” droned the parson's + voice, and Wilding smiled defiantly a smile which seemed to answer him, + “No man. I have taken her for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Gervase stood forward as her sponsor, and as in a dream Ruth felt her + hand lying in Mr. Wilding's cool, firm grasp. + </p> + <p> + The ecclesiastic's voice droned on, his voice hanging like the hum of some + great Insect upon the scented air. It was accomplished, and they were + welded each to the other until death should part them. + </p> + <p> + Down the festooned nave she came on his arm, her step unfaltering, her + face calm; black misery in her heart. Behind followed her aunt and cousin + and Lord Gervase. On Mr. Wilding's aquiline face a pale smile glimmered, + like a beam of moonlight upon tranquil waters, and it abode there until + they reached the porch and were suddenly confronted by Nick Trenchard, red + of face for once, perspiring, excited, and dust-stained from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + He had arrived that very instant; and, urged by the fearful news that + brought him, he had come resolved to pluck Wilding from the altar be the + ceremony done or not. But in that he reckoned without Mr. Wilding—for + he should have known him better than to have hoped to succeed. He stepped + forward now, and gripped him with his dusty glove by the sleeve of his + shimmering bridegroom's coat. His voice came harsh with excitement and + smouldering rage. + </p> + <p> + “A word with you, Anthony!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding turned placidly to regard him. “What now?” he asked, his + bride's hand retained in the crook of his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Treachery!” snapped Trenchard in a whisper. “Hell and damnation! Step + aside, man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding turned to Lord Gervase, and begged of him to take charge of + Mistress Wilding. “I deplore this interruption,” he told her, no whit + ruffled by what he had heard. “But I shall rejoin you soon. Meanwhile, his + lordship will do the honours for me.” This last he said with his eyes + moving to Lady Horton and her daughter. + </p> + <p> + Lord Gervase, in some surprise, but overruled by his cousin's calm, took + the bride on his arm and led her from the churchyard to the waiting + carriage. To this he handed her, and after her her aunt and cousin. Then, + mounting himself, they drove away, leaving Wilding and Trenchard among the + tombstones, whither the messenger of evil had meanwhile led his friend. + Trenchard rapped out his story briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Shenke,” said he, “who was riding from Lyme with letters for you from the + Duke, was robbed of his dispatches late last night a mile or so this side + Taunton.” + </p> + <p> + “Highwaymen?” inquired Mr. Wilding, his tone calm, though his glance had + hardened. + </p> + <p> + “Highwaymen? No! Government agents belike. There were two of them, he says—for + I have the tale from himself—and they met him at the Hare and Hounds + at Taunton, where he stayed to sup last night. One of them gave him the + password, and he conceived him to be a friend. But afterwards, growing + suspicious, he refused to tell them too much. They followed him, it + appears, and on the road they overtook and fell upon him; they knocked him + from his horse, possessed themselves of the contents of his wallet, and + left him for dead—with his head broken.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding drew a sharp breath. His wits worked quickly. He was, he + realized, in deadly peril. One thought he gave to Ruth. If the worst came + to pass here was one who would rejoice in her freedom. The reflection cut + through him like a sword. He would be loath to die until he had taught her + to regret him. Then his mind returned to what Trenchard had told him. + </p> + <p> + “You said a Government agent,” he mused slowly. “How would a Government + agent know the password?” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard's mouth fell open. “I had not thought...” he began. Then ended + with an oath. “'Tis a traitor from inside.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding nodded. “It must be one of those who met at White Lackington three + nights ago,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Idlers—the witnesses of the wedding—were watching them with + interest from the path, and others from over the low wall of the + churchyard, as well they might, for Mr. Wilding's behaviour was, for a + bridegroom, extraordinary. Trenchard did not relish the audience. + </p> + <p> + “We had best away,” said he. “Indeed,” he added, “we had best out of + England altogether before the hue and cry is raised. The bubble's + pricked.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding's hand fell on his arm, and its grasp was steady. Wilding's eyes + met his, and their gaze was calm. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you bestowed this messenger?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “He is here in Bridgwater, in bed, at the Bell Inn, whence he sent for you + to Zoyland Chase. Suspecting trouble, I rode to him at once myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then,” said Wilding. “We'll go talk with him. This matter needs + probing ere we decide on flight. You do not seem to have sought to + discover who were the thieves, nor other matters that it may be of use to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Rat me!” swore Trenchard. “I was in haste to bring you news of it. + Besides, there were other things to talk of. There is news that Albemarle + has gone to Exeter, and that Sir Edward Phelips and Colonel Luttrell have + been ordered to Taunton by the King.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding stared at him with sudden dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Odso!” he exclaimed. “Is King James taking fright at last?” Then he + shrugged his shoulders and laughed; “Pshaw!” he cried. “They are starting + at a shadow.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven send,” prayed Trenchard, “that the shadow does not prove to have a + substance immediately behind it.” + </p> + <p> + “Folly!” said Wilding. “When Monmouth comes, indeed, we shall not lack + forewarning. Come,” he added briskly. “We'll see this messenger and + endeavour to discover who were these fellows that beset him.” And he drew + Trenchard from among the tombstones to the open path, and thus from the + churchyard and the eyes of the gaping onlookers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. BRIDE AND GROOM + </h2> + <p> + And so the bridegroom, in all his wedding finery, made his way with + Trenchard to the Bell Inn, in the High Street, whilst his bride, escorted + by Lord Gervase, was being driven to Zoyland Chase, of which she was now + the mistress. + </p> + <p> + But she was not destined just yet to cross its threshold. For scarcely + were they over the river when a horseman barred their way, and called upon + the driver to pull up. Lady Horton, in a panic, huddled herself in the + great coach and spoke of tobymen, whilst Lord Gervase thrust his head from + the window to discover that the rider who stayed their progress was + Richard Westmacott. His lordship hailed the boy, who, thereupon, walked + his horse to the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Gervase,” said he, “will you bid the coachman put about and drive to + Lupton House?” + </p> +<p> +Lord Gervase stared at him in hopeless bewilderment. “Drive to Lupton +House?” he echoed. The more he saw of this odd wedding, the less he +understood of it. It seemed to the placid old gentleman that he was +fallen among a parcel of Bedlamites. “Surely, sir, it is for Mistress +Wilding to say whither she will be driven,” and he drew in his head and +turned to Ruth for her commands. But, bewildered herself, she had none +to give him. It was her turn to lean from the carriage window to ask her +brother what he meant. +</p> + <p> + “I mean you are to drive home again,” said he. “There is something +I must tell you. When you have heard me it shall be yours to decide +whether you will proceed or not to Zoyland Chase.” + </p> + <p> + Hers to decide? How was that possible? What could he mean? She pressed him + with some such questions. + </p> + <p> + “It means, in short,” he answered impatiently, “that I hold your salvation + in my hands. For the rest, this is not the time or place to tell you more. + Bid the fellow put about.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth sat back and looked once more at her companions. But from none did + she receive the least helpful suggestion. Lady Horton made great prattle + to little purpose; Lord Gervase followed her example, whilst Diana, whose + alert if trivial mind was the one that might have offered assistance, sat + silent. Ruth pondered. She bethought her of Trenchard's sudden arrival at + Saint Mary's, his dust-stained person and excited manner, and of how he + had drawn Mr. Wilding aside with news that seemed of moment. And now her + brother spoke of saving her; it was a little late for that, she thought. + Outside the coach his voice still urged her, and it grew peevish and + angry, as was usual when he was crossed. In the end she consented to do + his will. If she were to fathom this mystery that was thickening about her + there seemed to be no other course. She turned to Lord Gervase. + </p> + <p> + “Will you do as Richard says?” she begged him. + </p> + <p> + His lordship blew out his chubby cheeks in his astonishment; he hesitated + a moment, thinking of his cousin Wilding; then, with a shrug, he leaned + from the window and gave the order she desired. The carriage turned about, + and with Richard following lumbered back across the bridge and through the + town to Lupton House. At the door Lord Gervase took his leave of them. He + had acted as Ruth had bidden him; but he had no wish to be further + involved in this affair, whatever it might portend. Rather was it his duty + at once to go acquaint Mr. Wilding—if he could find him—with + what was taking place, and leave it to Mr. Wilding to take what measures + might seem best to him. He told them so, and having told them, left them. + </p> + <p> + Richard begged to be alone with his sister, and alone they passed together + into the library. His manner was restless; he trembled with excitement, + and his eyes glittered almost feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “You may have thought, Ruth, that I was resigned to your marriage with + this fellow Wilding,” he began; “or that for other reasons I thought it + wiser not to interfere. If you thought that you wronged me. I—Blake + and I—have been at work for you during these last days, and I + rejoice to say our labours have not been idle.” His manner grew assertive, + boastful, as he proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “You know, of course,” said she, “that I am married.” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture of disdain. “No matter,” said he exultantly. + </p> + <p> + “It matters something, I think,” she answered. “O Richard, Richard, why + did you not come to me sooner if you possessed the means of sparing me + this thing?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged impatiently; her remonstrance seemed to throw him out of + temper. “Oons!” he cried; “I came as soon as was ever possible, and, + depend upon it, I am not come too late. Indeed, I think I am come in the + very nick of time.” He drew a sheet of paper from an inside pocket of his + coat and slapped it down upon the table. “There is the wherewithal to hang + your fine husband,” he announced in triumph. + </p> + <p> + She recoiled. “To hang him?” she echoed. With all her aversion to Mr. + Wilding it was plain she did not wish him hanged. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, to hang him,” Richard repeated, and drew himself to the full height + of his short stature in pride at the thing he had achieved. “Read it.” + </p> + <p> + She took the paper almost mechanically, and for some moments she studied + the crabbed signature before realizing whose it was. Then she started. + </p> + <p> + “From the Duke of Monmouth!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Read it,” he bade her again, though there was no need for the + injunction, for already she was deciphering the crabbed hand and the + atrocious spelling—for His Grace of Monmouth's education had been + notoriously neglected. The letter, which was dated from The Hague, was + addressed “To my good friend W., at Bridgwater.” It began, “Sir,” spoke of + the imminent arrival of His Grace in the West, and gave certain + instructions for the collection of arms and the work of preparing men for + enlistment in his Cause, ending with protestations of His Grace's + friendship and esteem. + </p> + <p> + Ruth read the epistle twice before its treasonable nature was made clear + to her; before she understood the thing that was foreshadowed. Then she + raised troubled eyes to her brother's face, and in answer to the question + of her glance he made clear to her the shrewd means by which they had + become possessed of this weapon that should destroy their enemy Mr. + Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Blake and he, forewarned—he said not how—of the coming of this + messenger, had lain in wait for him at the Hare and Hounds, at Taunton. + They had sought at first to become possessed of the letter without + violence. But, having failed in this through having aroused the + messenger's suspicions, they had been forced to follow and attack him on a + lonely stretch of road, where they had robbed him of the contents of his + wallet. Richard added that the letter was, no doubt, one of several sent + over by Monmouth to some friend at Lyme for distribution among his + principal agents in the West. It was regrettable that they should have + endeavoured to take gentle measures with the courier, as this had + forewarned him, and he had apparently been led to remove the letter's + outer wrapper—which, no doubt, bore Wilding's full name and address—against + the chance of such an attack as they had made upon him. Nevertheless, as + it was, that letter “to my good friend W.,” backed by Richard's and + Blake's evidence of the destination intended for it, would be more than + enough to lay Mr. Wilding safely by the heels. + </p> + <p> + “I would to Heaven,” he repeated in conclusion, “I could have come in time + to save you from becoming his wife. But at least it is in my power to make + you very speedily his widow.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Ruth, still retaining the letter, “is what you propose to + do?” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “It must not be, Richard,” she said. “I'll not consent + to it.” + </p> + <p> + Taken aback, he stared at her; then laughed unpleasantly. “Odds my life! + Are you in love with the man? Have you been fooling us?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered. “But I'll be no party to his murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder, quotha! Who talks of murder?” Her shrewd eyes searched his face. + “How came you by your knowledge that this courier rode to Mr. Wilding?” + she asked him suddenly, and the swift change that overspread his + countenance showed her that she had touched him in a tender spot, assured + her of the thing she had suddenly come to suspect—a suspicion which + at the same time started from and explained much that had been mysterious + in Richard's ways of late. “You had knowledge of this conspiracy,” she + pursued, answering her own question before he had time to speak, “because + you were one of the conspirators.” + </p> + <p> + “At least I am so no longer,” he blurted out. + </p> + <p> + “I thank Heaven for that, Richard; for your life is very dear to me. But + it would ill become you to make such use as this of the knowledge you came + by in that manner. It were a Judas's act.” He would have interrupted her, + but her manner dominated him. “You will leave this letter with me, + Richard,” she continued. + </p> + <p> + “Damn me! no...” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, Richard,” she insisted. “You will give it to me, and I shall + thank you for the gift. It shall prove a weapon for my salvation, never + fear.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall, indeed,” he cried, with an ugly laugh; “when I have ridden to + Exeter to lay it before Albemarle.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” she answered him. “It shall be a weapon of defence—not of + offence. It shall stand as a buckler between me and Mr. Wilding. Trust me, + I shall know how to use it.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is Blake to consider,” he expostulated, growing angry. “I am + pledged to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your first duty is to me...” + </p> + <p> + “Tut!” he interrupted. “Blake feels that he owes it to his loyalty to lay + this letter before the Lord-Lieutenant, and, for that matter, so do I.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland would not cross my wishes in this,” she answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Folly!” he cried, now thoroughly aroused. “Give me that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Richard,” she answered, and waved him back. + </p> + <p> + But he advanced nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “Give it me,” he bade her, waxing fierce. “Gad! It was folly to have told + you of it. I had not done so but that I never thought you such a fool as + to oppose yourself to the thing we intend.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Richard...” she besought him. + </p> + <p> + But he was grown insensible to pleadings. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that letter,” he insisted, and caught her wrist. Her other hand, + however—the one that held the sheet—was already behind her + back. + </p> + <p> + The door was suddenly thrust open, and Diana appeared. “Ruth,” she + announced, “Mr. Wilding is here.” + </p> + <p> + At the mention of that name, Richard let her free. “Wilding!” he + ejaculated, his fierceness all blown out of him. He had imagined that + already Mr. Wilding would be in full flight. Was the fellow mad? + </p> + <p> + “He is following me,” said Diana, and, indeed, a step could be heard in + the passage. + </p> + <p> + “The letter!” growled Richard in a frenzy, between fear and anger now. + “Give it me! Give it me, do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh! You'll betray yourself,” she cried. “He is here.” + </p> + <p> + And at that same moment Mr. Wilding's tall figure, still arrayed in his + bridegroom's finery of sky-blue satin, loomed in the doorway. He was + serene and calm as ever. Neither the discovery of the plot by the + abstraction of the messenger's letter, nor Ruth's strange conduct—of + which he had heard from Lord Gervase—had sufficed to ruffle, + outwardly at least, the inscrutable serenity of his air and manner. He + paused to make his bow, then advanced into the room, with a passing glance + at Richard still spurred and booted and all dust-stained. + </p> + <p> + “You appear to have ridden far, Dick,” said he, smiling, and Richard + shivered in spite of himself at the mocking note that seemed to ring + faintly at the words. “I saw your friend, Sir Rowland, in the garden,” he + added. “I think he waits for you.” + </p> + <p> + Though Richard could not fail to apprehend the implied dismissal, he was + minded at first to disregard it. But Mr. Wilding, turning, held the door, + addressing Diana. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Horton,” said he, “will you give us leave?” + </p> + <p> + Diana curtsied and passed out, and Mr. Wilding's eye falling upon the + lingering Richard at that moment, Richard thought it best to follow her + example. But he went with rage in his heart at being forced to leave that + precious document behind him. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Wilding, his back to her a moment, closed the door, Ruth slipped + the paper hurriedly into the bosom of her low-necked gown. He turned to + her, calm but very grave, and his dark eyes seemed to reproach her. + </p> + <p> + “This is ill done, Ruth,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Ill done, or well done,” she answered him, “done it is, and shall so + remain.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his brows. “Ah,” said he, “I appear, then, to have + misapprehended the situation. From what Gervase told me, I understood it + was your brother forced you to return.” + </p> + <p> + “Not forced, sir,” she answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Induced, then,” said he. “It but remains me to induce you to repair what + I think was a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “I have returned home for good,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “You'll pardon me,” said he, “that I am so egotistical as to prefer + Zoyland Chase to Lupton House. Despite the manifold attractions of the + latter, I do not intend to take up my abode here.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not asked to.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then?” + </p> + <p> + She hated him for the smile, for his masterful air, which seemed to imply + that he humoured her because he scorned to use authority, but that when he + did use it, hers must it be to obey him. Again she felt that everlasting + calm, arguing such latent forces, was the thing she hated most in him. + </p> + <p> + “I think I had best be plain with you,” said she. “I have fulfilled my + part of the bargain that we made. I intend to do no more. I promised that + if you spared my brother, I would go to the altar with you to-day. I have + carried out my contract to the letter. It is at an end.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said he; “I think it has not yet begun.” He advanced towards + her, and took her hand. She yielded it, unwilling though she was. “This is + unworthy of you, madam,” said he, his tone grave and deferential. “You + think to escape fulfilling the spirit of your bargain by adhering to the + letter of it. Not so,” he ended, and shook his head, smiling gently. “The + carriage is still at your door. You return with me to Zoyland Chase to + take possession of your home.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake,” said she, and tore her hand from his. “You say that what I + have done is unworthy. I admit it; but it is with unworthiness that we + must combat unworthiness. Was your attitude towards me less unworthy?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make amends for it if you'll come home,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “My home is here. You cannot compel me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be loath to,” he admitted, sighing. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot,” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “I think I can,” said he. “There is a law..” + </p> + <p> + “A law that will hang you if you invoke it,” she cut in quickly. “This + much can I safely promise you.” + </p> + <p> + She had need to say no more to tell him everything. At all times half a + word was as much to Mr. Wilding as a whole sentence to another. She saw + the tightening of his lips, the hardening of his eyes, beyond which he + gave no other sign that she had hit him. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said he. “It is another bargain that you make. I do suspect there + is some trader's blood in the Westmacott veins. Let us be clear. You hold + the wherewithal to ruin me, and you will use it if I insist upon my + husband's rights. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded in silence, surprised at the rapidity with which he had read + the situation. + </p> + <p> + “I admit,” said he, “that you have me between sword and wall.” He laughed + shortly. “Let me know more,” he begged her. “Am I to understand that so + long as I leave you in peace—so long as I do not insist upon your + becoming my wife in more than name—you will not wield the weapon + that you hold?” + </p> + <p> + “You are to understand so,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He took a turn in the room, very thoughtful. Not of himself was he + thinking now, but of the Duke of Monmouth. Trenchard had told him some + ugly truths that morning of how in his love-making he appeared to have + shipwrecked the Cause ere it was well launched. If this letter got to + Whitehall there was no gauging—ignorant as he was of what was in it—the + ruin that might follow; but they had reason to fear the worst. He saw his + duty to the Duke most clearly, and he breathed a prayer of thanks that + Richard had chosen to put that letter to such a use as this. He knew + himself checkmated; but he was a man who knew how to bear defeat in a + becoming manner. He turned suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “The letter is in your hands?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “May I see it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head—not daring to show it or betray its whereabouts + lest he should use force to become possessed of it—a thing, indeed, + that was very far from his purpose. + </p> + <p> + He considered a moment, his mind intent now rather upon the Duke's + interest than his own. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” quoth he, “the desperate enterprise to which I stand + committed. But it is a bargain between us that you do not betray me nor + that enterprise so long as I leave you rid of my presence.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the bargain I propose,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her a moment with hungry eyes, and she found his glance + almost more than she could bear, so strong was its appeal. Besides, it may + be that she was a thought beglamoured by the danger in which he stood, + which seemed to invest him with a certain heroic dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” he said at length, “it may well be that that which you desire may + speedily come to pass; it may well be that in the course of this rebellion + that is hatching you may be widowed. But at least I know that if my head + falls it will not be my wife who has betrayed me to the axe. For that + much, believe me, I am supremely grateful.” + </p> + <p> + He advanced. He took her unresisting hand again and bore it to his lips, + bowing low before her. Then erect and graceful he turned on his heel and + left her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. MR. TRENCHARD'S COUNTERSTROKE + </h2> + <p> + Now, however much it might satisfy Mr. Wilding to have Ruth's word for it + that so long as he left her in peace neither he nor the Cause had any + betrayal to fear from her, Mr. Trenchard was of a very different mind. + </p> + <p> + He fumed and swore and worked himself into a very passion. “Zoons, man!” + he cried, “it would mean utter ruin to you if that letter reached + Whitehall.” + </p> + <p> + “I realize it; but my mind is easy. I have her promise.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman's promise!” snorted Trenchard, and proceeded with great + circumstance of expletives to damn “everything that daggled a petticoat.” + </p> + <p> + “Your fears are idle,” Wilding assured him. “What she says, she will do.” + </p> + <p> + “And her brother?” quoth Trenchard. “Have you bethought you of that + canary-bird? He'll know the letter's whereabouts. He has cause to fear you + more than ever now. Are you sure he'll not be making use of it to lay you + by the heels?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding smiled upon the fury provoked by Trenchard's concern and love + for him. “She has promised,” he said with an insistent faith that was fuel + to Trenchard's anger, “and I can depend her word.” + </p> + <p> + “So cannot I,” snapped his friend. + </p> + <p> + “The thing that plagues me most,” said Wilding, ignoring the remark, “is + that we are kept in ignorance of the letter's contents at a time when we + most long for news. Not a doubt but it would have enabled us to set our + minds at ease on the score of these foolish rumours.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—or else confirmed them,” said pessimistic Trenchard. He wagged + his head. “They say the Duke has put to sea already.” + </p> + <p> + “Folly!” Wilding protested. + </p> + <p> + “Whitehall thinks otherwise. What of the troops at Taunton?” + </p> + <p> + “More folly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well-I would you had that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” said Wilding, “I have the superscription, and we know from + Shenke that no name was mentioned in the letter itself.” + </p> + <p> + “There's evidence enough without it,” Trenchard reminded him, and fell + soon after into abstraction, turning over in his mind a notion with which + he had suddenly been inspired. That notion kept Trenchard secretly + occupied for a couple of days; but in the end he succeeded in perfecting + it. + </p> + <p> + Now it befell that towards dusk one evening early in the week Richard + Westmacott went abroad alone, as was commonly his habit, his goal being + the Saracen's Head, where he and Sir Rowland spent many a night over wine + and cards—to Sir Rowland's moderate profit, for he had not played + the pigeon in town so long without having acquired sufficient knowledge to + enable him to play the rook in the country. As Westmacott was passing up + the High Street, a black shadow fell athwart the light that streamed from + the door of the Bell Inn, and out through the doorway lurched Mr. + Trenchard a thought unsteadily to hurtle so violently against Richard that + he broke the long stem of the white clay pipe he was carrying. Now Richard + was not to know that Mr. Trenchard—having informed himself of Mr. + Westmacott's evening habits—had been waiting for the past half-hour + in that doorway hoping that Mr. Westmacott would not depart this evening + from his usual custom. Another thing that Mr. Westmacott was not to know—considering + his youth—was the singular histrionic ability which this old rake + had displayed in those younger days of his when he had been a player, and + the further circumstance that he had excelled in those parts in which + ebriety was to be counterfeited. Indeed, we have it on the word of no less + an authority on theatrical matters than Mr. Pepys that Mr. Nicholas + Trenchard's appearance as Pistol in “Henry IV” in the year of the blessed + Restoration was the talk alike of town and court. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trenchard steadied himself from the impact, and, swearing a round and + awful Elizabethan oath, accused the other of being drunk, then struck an + attitude to demand with truculence, “Would ye take the wall o' me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Richard hastened to make himself known to this turbulent roysterer, who + straightway forgot his grievance to take Westmacott affectionately by the + hand and overwhelm him with apologies. And that done, Trenchard—who + affected the condition known as maudlin drunk—must needs protest + almost in tears how profound was his love for Richard, and insist that the + boy return with him to the Bell Inn, that they might pledge each other. + </p> + <p> + Richard, himself sober, was contemptuous of Trenchard so obviously + obfuscated. At first it was his impulse to excuse himself, as possibly + Blake might be already waiting for him; but on second thoughts, + remembering that Trenchard was Mr. Wilding's most intimate famulus, it + occurred to him that by a little crafty questioning he might succeed in + smoking Mr. Wilding's intentions in the matter of that letter—for + from his sister he had failed to get satisfaction. So he permitted himself + to be led indoors to a table by the window which stood vacant. There were + at the time a dozen guests or so in the common-room. Trenchard bawled for + wine and brandy, and for all that he babbled in an irresponsible, foolish + manner of all things that were of no matter, yet not the most adroit of + pumping could elicit from him any such information as Richard sought. + Perforce young Westmacott must remain, plying him with more and more drink—and + being plied in his turn—to the end that he might not waste the + occasion. + </p> + <p> + An hour later found Richard much the worse for wear, and Trenchard + certainly no better. Richard forgot his purpose, forgot that Blake waited + for him at the Saracen's Head. And now Trenchard seemed to be pulling + himself together. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk to you, Richard,” said he, and although thick, there was + in his voice a certain impressive quality that had been absent hitherto. + “'S a rumour current.” He lowered his voice to a whisper almost, and, + leaning across, took his companion by the arm. He hiccoughed noisily, then + began again. “'S a rumour current, sweetheart, that you're disaffected.” + </p> + <p> + Richard started, and his mind flapped and struggled like a trapped bird to + escape the meshes of the wine, to the end that he might convincingly + defend himself from such an imputation—so dangerously true. + </p> + <p> + “'S a lie!” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard shut one eye and owlishly surveyed his companion with the other. + “They say,” he added, “that you're for forsaking 'Duke's party.” + </p> + <p> + “Villainous!” Richard protested. “I'll sli' throat of any man 't says so.” + And draining the pewter at his elbow, he smashed it down on the table to + emphasize his seriousness. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard replenished it with the utmost promptness, then sat back in his + tall chair and pulled a moment at the fresh pipe with which he had + equipped himself. + </p> + <p> + “I think I espy,”' he quoted presently, “'virtue and valour crouched in + thine eye.' And yet... and yet... if I had cause to think it true, I'd... + I'd run you through the vitals—jus' so,” and he prodded Richard's + waistcoat with the point of his pipe-stem. His swarthy face darkened, his + eyes glittered fiercely. “Are ye sure ye're norrer foul traitor?” he + demanded suddenly. “Are y' sure, for if ye're not...” + </p> + <p> + He left the terrible menace unuttered, but it was none the less + understood. It penetrated the vinous fog that beset the brain of Richard, + and startled him. + </p> + <p> + “'Swear I'm not!” he cried. “'Swear mos' solemnly I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear?” echoed Trenchard, and his scowl grew darker still. “Swear? A man + may swear and yet lie—'a man may smile and smile and be a villain.' + I'll have proof of your loyalty to us. I'll have proof, or as there's a + heaven above and a hell below, I'll rip you up.” + </p> + <p> + His mien was terrific, and his voice the more threatening in that it was + not raised above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Richard sat back appalled, afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Wha'... what proof'll satisfy you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard considered it, pulling at his pipe again. “Pledge me the Duke,” + said he at length. “Ther's truth 'n wine. Pledge me the Duke and confusion + to His Majesty the goldfinch.” Richard reached for his pewter, glad that + the test was to be so light. “Up on your feet, man,” grumbled Trenchard. + “On your feet, and see that your words have a ring of truth in them.” + </p> + <p> + Richard did as he was bidden, the little reason left him being + concentrated wholly on the convincing of his fellow tippler. He rose to + his feet, so unsteadily that his chair fell over with a bang. He never + heeded it, but others in the room turned at the sound, and a hush fell in + the chamber. Dominating this came Richard's voice, strident with + intensity, if thick of utterance. + </p> + <p> + “Down with Popery, and God save the Protestant Duke!” he cried. “Down with + Popery!” And he looked at Trenchard for applause, and assurance that + Trenchard no longer thought there was cause to quarrel with him. + </p> + <p> + Behind him there was a stir in the room that went unheeded by the boy. Men + nudged their neighbours; some looked frightened and some grinned at the + treasonable words. + </p> + <p> + A swift change came over Trenchard. His drunkenness fell from him like a + discarded mantle. He sat like a man amazed. Then he heaved himself to his + feet in a fury, and smashed down his pipestem on the wooden table, sending + its fragments flying. + </p> + <p> + “Damn me!” he roared. “Have I sat at table with a traitor?” And he thrust + at Richard with his open palm, lightly yet with sufficient force to throw + Richard off his precarious balance and send him sprawling on the sanded + floor. Men rose from the tables about and approached them, some few + amused, but the majority very grave. Dodsley, the landlord, came hurrying + to assist Richard to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Westmacott,” he whispered in the rash fool's ear, “you were best + away.” + </p> + <p> + Richard stood up, leaning his full weight upon the arm the landlord had + about his waist. He passed a hand over his brow, as if to brush aside the + veil that obscured his wits. What had happened? What had he said? What had + Trenchard done? Why did these fellows stand and gape at him? He heard his + companion's voice, raised to address the company. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he heard him say, “I trust there is none present will impute + to me any share in such treasonable sentiments as Mr. Westmacott has + expressed. But if there is any who questions my loyalty, I have a + convincing argument for him—in my scabbard.” And he struck his + sword-hilt with his fist. + </p> + <p> + Then he clapped on his hat, aslant over the locks of his golden wig, and, + taking up his whip, he moved with leisurely dignity towards the door. He + looked back with a sardonic smile at the ado he was leaving behind him, + listened a moment to the voices that already were being raised in + excitement, then closed the door and made his way briskly to the + stable-yard, where he called for his horse. He rode out of Bridgwater ten + minutes later, and took the road to Taunton as the moon was rising big and + yellow over the hills on his left. He reached Taunton towards ten o'clock + that night, having ridden hell-to-leather. His first visit was to the Hare + and Hounds, where Blake and Westmacott had overtaken the courier. His next + to the house where Sir Edward Phelips and Colonel Luttrell—the + gentlemen lately ordered to Taunton by His Majesty—had their + lodging. + </p> + <p> + The fruits of Mr. Trenchard's extraordinary behaviour that night were to + be seen at an early hour on the following day, when a constable and three + tything-men came with a Lord-Lieutenant's warrant to arrest Mr. Richard + Westmacott on a charge of high treason. They found the young man still + abed, and most guilty was his panic when they bade him rise and dress + himself—though little did he dream of the full extent to which Mr. + Trenchard had enmeshed him, or indeed that Mr. Trenchard had any hand at + all in this affair. What time he was getting into his clothes with a + tything-man outside his door and another on guard under his window, the + constable and his third myrmidon made an exhaustive search of the house. + All they found of interest was a letter signed “Monmouth,” which they took + from the secret drawer of a secretary in the library; but that, it seemed, + was all they sought, for having found it, they proceeded no further with + their reckless and destructive ransacking. + </p> + <p> + With that letter and the person of Richard Westmacott, the constable and + his men took their departure, and rode back to Taunton, leaving alarm and + sore distress at Lupton House. In her despair poor Ruth was all for + following her brother, in the hope that at least by giving evidence of how + that letter came into his possession she might do something to assist him. + But knowing, as she did, that he had had his share in the treason that was + hatching, she had cause to fear that his guilt would not lack for other + proofs. It was Diana who urged her to repair instead to the only man upon + whose resource she might depend, provided he were willing to exert it. + That man was Anthony Wilding, and whether Diana urged it from motives of + her own or out of concern for Richard, it would be difficult to say with + certainty. + </p> + <p> + The very thought of going to him for aid, after all that had passed, was + repugnant to Ruth. And yet what choice had she? Convinced by her cousin + and urged by her affection and duty to Richard, she repressed her + aversion, and, calling for a horse, rode out to Zoyland Chase, attended by + a groom. Wilding by good fortune was at home, hard at work upon a mass of + documents in that same library where she had talked with him on the + occasion of her first visit to his home—to the home of which she + remembered that she was now, herself, the mistress. He was preparing for + circulation in the West a mass of libels and incendiary pamphlets + calculated to forward the cause of the Protestant Duke. + </p> + <p> + Dissembling his surprise, he bade old Walters—who left her waiting + in the hall whilst he went to announce her—to admit her instantly, + and he advanced to the door to receive and welcome her. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” said he, and his face was oddly alight, “you have come at last.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled a wan smile of self-pity. “I have been constrained,” said she, + and told him what had happened; that her brother had been arrested for + high treason, and that the constable in searching the house had come upon + the Monmouth letter she had locked away in her desk. + </p> + <p> + “And not a doubt,” she ended, “but it will be believed that it was to + Richard the letter was indited by the Duke. You will remember that its + only address was 'to my good friend, W.,' and that will stand for + Westmacott as well as Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding was fain to laugh at the irony of this surprising turn of + things of which she brought him news; for he had neither knowledge nor + suspicion of the machinations of his friend Trenchard, to which these + events were due. But noting and respecting her anxiety for her brother, he + curbed his natural amusement. + </p> + <p> + “It is a judgment upon you,” said he, nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “Do you exult?” she asked indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but I cannot repress my admiration for the ways of Divine Justice. If + you are come to me for advice, I can but suggest that you should follow + your brother's captors to Taunton, and inform the lieutenants of how the + letter came into your power.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in anger almost at what seemed a callousness. “Would he + believe me, think you?” + </p> + <p> + “Belike he would not,” said Mr. Wilding. “You can but try.” + </p> + <p> + “If I told them it was addressed to you,” she said, eyeing him sternly, + “does it not occur to you that they would send for you to question you, + and that if they did so, as you are a gentleman you could not lie away my + brother's life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” said he quite calmly, “it does occur to me. But does it not + occur to you that by the time they came here they would find me gone?” He + laughed at her dismay. “I thank you, madam, for this warning,” he added. + “I think I'll bid them saddle for me without delay. Too long already have + I tarried.” + </p> + <p> + “And must Richard hang?” she asked him fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding produced a snuffbox of tortoise shell and gold. He opened it + deliberately. “If he does, you'll admit that he will hang on the gallows + that he has built himself—although intended for another. I'faith! + He's not the first booby to be caught in his own springe. There is in this + a measure of poetic justice. Poetry and justice! Do you know, Ruth, they + are two things I have ever loved?” And he took a pinch of choice Bergamot. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be serious?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Trenchard would tell you that it were to make an exception from the rule + of my life,” he assured her, smiling. “Yet even that might I do at your + bidding.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is a serious matter,” she told him angrily. + </p> + <p> + “For Richard,” he acknowledged, closing his snuffbox with a snap. “Tell + me, what would you have me do?” + </p> + <p> + Since he asked her thus, she answered him in two words. “Save him.” + </p> + <p> + “At the cost of my own neck?” quoth he. “The price is high,” he reminded + her. “Do you think that Richard is quite worth it?” + </p> + <p> + “And are you to save yourself at the cost of his?” she counter-questioned. + “Are you capable of such a baseness?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her thoughtfully a moment. “You have not reflected,” said he + slowly, “that in this affair is involved more than mine or Richard's life. + There is a great cause weighing in the balance against all personal + considerations. If I accounted Richard of more value to Monmouth than I am + myself, I should not hesitate in riding to set him free by taking his + place. As it is, however, I think I am of the greatest conceivable + importance to His Grace, whilst if twenty Richards perished—frankly—their + loss would be something of a gain, for Richard has played a traitor's part + already. That is with me the first of all considerations.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I of no consideration to you?” she asked him. And in an agony of + terror for her brother she now approached him, and, obeying a sudden + impulse, cast herself upon her knees before him. “Listen!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Not thus,” said he, a frown between his eyes. He took her by the elbows + and gently but very firmly brought her to her feet again. “It is not + fitting you should kneel save at your prayers.” + </p> + <p> + She was standing now, and very close to him, his hands still held her + elbows, though their touch was so light that she scarce felt it. To + release them was easy, and the next second her hands were on his + shoulders, her brave eyes raised to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding,” she implored him, “you'll not let Richard be destroyed?” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her with kindling glance, his arms slipped round her + lissom waist. “It is hard to deny you, Ruth,” said he. “Yet not my love of + my own life compels me; but my duty, my loyalty to the cause to which I am + pledged. I were a traitor were I now to place myself in peril.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed against him, her face so close to his that her breath fanned + his cheek, whither a faint colour crept in quick response. Despite herself + almost, instinctively, unconsciously, she exerted the weapons of her sex + to bend him to her will. + </p> + <p> + “You say you love me,” she whispered. “Prove it me now, and I will believe + you. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he sighed. “And believing me? What then?” + </p> + <p> + He had himself grimly in hand, yet feared he should not prove strong + enough to hold himself for long. + </p> + <p> + “You... you shall find me your... dutiful wife,” she faltered, crimsoning. + </p> + <p> + His arms tightened about her; he crushed her to him, he bent his head to + hers and his lips burnt the lips she yielded to him as though they had + been living fire. + </p> + <p> + Anon, she was to weep in shame—in shame and in astonishment—at + that instant of surrender, but for the moment she had no thought save for + her brother. Exultation filled her. She accounted that she had conquered, + and she gloried in the power her beauty gave her, a power that had + sufficed to melt to water the hard-frozen purposes of this self-willed + man. The next instant, however, she was cold again with dismay and newborn + terror. He unclasped her arms, he drew back, shaking off the hands she had + rested upon his shoulders. His white face—the flush had faded from + it again—smiled a thought disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “You bargain with me,” he said. “But I have some knowledge of your ways of + trading. They are overshrewd for an honest gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” she gasped, her hand pressed to her heart, her face a deathly + white, “you mean that you'll not save him?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said he, “that I will have no further bargains with you.” + </p> + <p> + There was such hard finality in his tone that she recoiled, beaten and + without power, to return to the assault. She had played and lost. She had + yielded her lips to his kisses, and—husband though he might be in + name—shame was her only guerdon. + </p> + <p> + One look she gave him from out of that face so white and pitiful, then + with a shudder turned from him and fled his presence. He sprang after her + as the door closed, then checked and stood in thought, very grim for one + who professed to bestow no seriousness on the affairs of life. Then he + returned slowly to his writing-table, and rummaged there among the papers + with which it was encumbered, seeking something of which he now had need. + Through the open window he heard the retreating beat of her horse's hoofs. + He sighed and sat down heavily, to take his long square chin in his hand + and stare before him at the sunlight on the lawn outside. + </p> + <p> + And whilst he sat thus, Ruth made all haste back to Lupton House to tell + of the failure that had attended her. There was nothing left her now but + to embark upon the forlorn hope of following Richard to Taunton, to offer + her evidence of how the incriminating letter had come to be locked in the + drawer in which the constable had discovered it. Diana met her with a face + as white as her own and infinitely more startled. She had just learnt that + Sir Rowland Blake had been arrested also and that he had been carried to + Taunton together with Richard, and, as a consequence, she was as eager now + that Ruth should repair to Albemarle as she had erstwhile been earnest in + urging her to seek out Mr. Wilding; indeed, Diana went so far as to offer + to accompany her, an offer that Ruth gladly, gratefully accepted. + </p> + <p> + Within an hour Ruth and Diana—in spite of all that poor, docile Lady + Horton had said to stay them—were riding to Taunton, attended by the + same groom who had so lately accompanied his mistress to Zoyland Chase. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THEIR OWN PETARD + </h2> + <p> + In a lofty, spacious room of the town hall at Taunton sat Sir Edward + Phelips and Colonel Luttrell to dispense justice, and with them, flanked + by one of them on either side of him, sat Christopher Monk, Duke of + Albemarle, Lord-Lieutenant of Devonshire, who had been summoned in all + haste from Exeter that he might be present at an examination which + promised to be of so vast importance. The three sat at a long table at the + room's end, attended by two secretaries. + </p> + <p> + Before them, guarded by constable and tything-men, weaponless, their hands + pinioned behind them—Blake's arm was healed by now—stood Mr. + Westmacott and his friend Sir Rowland to answer this grave charge. + </p> + <p> + Richard, not knowing who might have betrayed him and to what extent, was + very fearful—having through his connection with the Cause every + reason so to be. Blake, on the other hand, conscious of his innocence of + any plotting, was impatient of his position, and a thought contemptuous. + It was he who, upon being ushered by the constable and his men into the + august presence of the Lord-Lieutenant, clamoured to know precisely of + what he was accused that he might straightway clear himself. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle reared his great massive head, smothered in a mighty black + peruke, and scowled upon the florid London beau. A black-visaged gentleman + was Christopher Monk. His pendulous cheeks, it is true, were of a sallow + pallor, but what with his black wig, black eyebrows, dark eyes, and the + blue-black tint of shaven beard on his great jaw and upper lip, he + presented an appearance sombrely sinister. His netherlip was thick and + very prominent; deep creases ran from the corners of his mouth adown his + heavy chin; his eyes were dull and lack-lustre, with great pouches under + them. In the main, the air of this son of the great Parliamentarian + general was stupid, dull, unprepossessing. + </p> + <p> + The creases of his mouth deepened as Blake protested against what he + termed this outrage that had been done him; he sneered ponderously, + thrusting further forward his heavily undershot jowl. + </p> + <p> + “We are informed, sir, of your antecedents,” he staggered Blake by + answering. “We have learnt the reason why you left London and your + creditors, and in all my life, sir, I have never known a man more ready to + turn his hand to treason than a broken gamester. Your kind turns by + instinct to such work as this, as a last resource for the mending of + battered fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + Blake crimsoned from chin to brow. “I'm forejudged, it, seems,” he made + answer haughtily, tossing his fair locks, his blue eyes glaring upon his + judges. “May I, at least, know the name of my accuser?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall receive impartial justice at our hands,” put in Phelips, whose + manner was of a dangerous mildness. “Depend on that. Not only shall you + know the name of your accuser, but you shall be confronted by him. + Meanwhile, sirs”—and his glance strayed from Blake's flushed and + angry countenance to Richard's, pale and timid—“meanwhile, are we to + understand that you deny the charge?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard none as yet,” said Sir Rowland insolently. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle turned to one of the secretaries. “Read them the indictment,” + said he, and sank back in his chair, his dull glance upon the prisoners, + whilst the clerk in a droning voice read from a document which he took up. + It impeached Sir Rowland Blake and Mr. Richard Westmacott of holding + treasonable communication with James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, and of + plotting against His Majesty's life and throne and the peace of His + Majesty's realms. + </p> + <p> + Blake listened with unconcealed impatience to the farrago of legal + phrases, and snorted contemptuously when the reading came to an end. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle looked at him darkly. “I do thank God,” said he, “that through + Mr. Westmacott's folly has this hideous plot, this black and damnable + treason, been brought to light in time to enable us to stamp out this fire + ere it is well kindled. Have you aught to say, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I have to say that the whole charge a foul and unfounded lie,” said Sir + Rowland bluntly: “I never plotted in my life against anything but my own + prosperity, nor against any man but myself.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle smiled coldly at his colleagues, then turned to Westmacott. “And + you, sir?” he said. “Are you as stubborn as your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I incontinently deny the charge,” said Richard, and he contrived that his + voice should ring bold and resolute. + </p> + <p> + “A charge built on air,” sneered Blake, “which the first breath of truth + should utterly dispel. We have heard the impeachment. Will Your Grace with + the same consideration permit us to see the proofs that we may lay bare + their falseness? It should not be difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you say there is no such plot as is here alleged?” quoth the Duke, and + smote a paper sharply. + </p> + <p> + Blake shrugged his shoulders. “How should I know?” he asked. “I say I have + no share in any, that I am acquainted with none.” + </p> + <p> + “Call Mr. Trenchard,” said the Duke quietly, and an usher who had stood + tamely by the door at the far end of the room departed on the errand. + </p> + <p> + Richard started at the mention of that name. He had a singular dread of + Mr. Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Luttrell—lean and wiry—now addressed the prisoners, + Blake more particularly. “Still,” said he, “you will admit that such a + plot may, indeed, exist?” + </p> + <p> + “It may, indeed, for aught I know—or care,” he added incautiously. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle smote the table with a heavy hand. “By God!” he cried in that + deep booming voice of his, “there spoke a traitor! You do not care, you + say, what plots may be hatched against His Majesty's life and crown! Yet + you ask me to believe you a true and loyal subject.” + </p> + <p> + Blake was angered; he was at best a short-tempered man. Deliberately he + floundered further into the mire. + </p> + <p> + “I have not asked Your Grace to believe me anything,” he answered hotly. + “It is all one to me what Your Grace believes me. I take it I have not + been fetched hither to be confronted with what Your Grace believes. You + have preferred a lying charge against me; I ask for proofs, not Your + Grace's beliefs and opinions.” + </p> + <p> + “By God, sir, you are a daring rogue!” cried Albemarle. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland's eyes blazed. “Anon, Your Grace, when, having failed of your + proofs, you shall be constrained to restore me to liberty, I shall ask + Your Grace to unsay that word.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle stared, confounded, and in that moment the door opened, and + Trenchard sauntered in, cane in hand, his hat under his arm, a wicked + smile on his wizened face. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Blake's veiled threat unanswered, the Duke turned to the old rake. + “These rogues,” said he, pointing to the prisoners, “demand proofs ere + they will admit the truth of the impeachment.” + </p> + <p> + “Those proofs,” said Trenchard, “are already in Your Grace's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, but they have asked to be confronted with their accuser.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard bowed. “Is it your wish, then, that I recite for them the counts + on which I have based the accusation I laid before Your Grace?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will condescend so far,” said Albemarle. + </p> + <p> + “Blister me...!” roared Blake, when the Duke interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “By God, sir!” he cried, “I'll have no such disrespectful language here. + You'll observe the decency of speech and forbear from profanities, you + damned rogue, or by God! I'll commit you forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + “I will endeavour,” said Blake, with a sarcasm lost on Albemarle, “to + follow Your Grace's lofty example.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do well, sir,” said the Duke, and was shocked that Trenchard + should laugh at such a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I was about to protest, sir,” said Blake, “that it is monstrous I should + be accused by Mr. Trenchard. He has but the slightest acquaintance with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard bowed to him across the chamber. “Admitted, sir,” said he. “What + should I be doing in bad company?” An answer this that set Albemarle + bawling with laughter. Trenchard turned to the Duke. “I will begin, an it + please Your Grace, with the expressions used last night in my presence at + the Bell Inn at Bridgwater by Mr. Richard Westmacott, and I will confine + myself strictly to those matters on which my testimony can be corroborated + by that of other witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Luttrell interrupted him to turn to Richard. “Do you recall those + expressions, sir?” he asked him. + </p> + <p> + Richard winced under the question. Nevertheless, he braced himself to make + the best defence he could. “I have not yet heard,” said he, “what those + expressions were; nor when I hear them must it follow that I recognize + them as my own. I must admit to having taken more wine, perhaps, than... + than...” Whilst he sought the expression that he needed Trenchard cut in + with a laugh. “In vino veritas, gentlemen,” and His Grace and Sir Edward + nodded sagely; Luttrell preserved a stolid exterior. He seemed less prone + than his colleagues to forejudging. + </p> + <p> + “Will you repeat the expressions used by Mr. Westmacott?” Sir Edward + begged. + </p> + <p> + “I will repeat the one that, to my mind, matters most.” Mr. Westmacott, + getting to his feet and in a loud voice, exclaimed, “God save the + Protestant Duke!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you admit it, sir?” thundered Albemarle, his eyes glowering upon + Richard hesitated a moment, pale and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “You will waste breath in denying it,” said Trenchard suavely, “for I have + a drawer from the Bell Inn, and two gentlemen who overheard you waiting + outside.” + </p> + <p> + “I'faith, sir,” cried Blake, “what treason was therein that? If he...” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” thundered Albemarle. “Let Mr. Westmacott speak for himself.” + </p> + <p> + Richard, inspired by the defence Blake had begun, took the same line of + argument. “I admit that in the heat of wine I may have used such words,” + said he. “But I deny their intent to be treasonable. There are many men + who drink to the prosperity of the late Kings's son...” + </p> + <p> + “Natural son, sir; natural son,” Albemarle amended. “It is treason to + speak of him otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a treason presently to draw breath,” sneered Blake. + </p> + <p> + “If it be,” said Trenchard, “it is a treason you'll not be long + committing.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, you are right, Mr. Trenchard,” said the Duke with a laugh. Indeed, + he found Mr. Trenchard a most pleasant and facetious gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” insisted Richard, endeavouring in spite of these irrelevancies to + make good his point, “there be many men who drink daily to the prosperity + of the late King's natural son.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, sir,” answered Albemarle; “but not his prosperity in horrid plots + against the life of our beloved sovereign.” + </p> + <p> + “True, Your Grace; very true,” purred Sir Edward. “It was not so I meant + to toast him,” cried Richard. Albemarle made an impatient gesture, and + took up a sheet of paper. “How, then,” he asked, “comes this letter—this + letter which makes plain the treason upon which the Duke of Monmouth is + embarked, just as it makes plain your participation in it—how comes + this letter to be found in your possession?” And he waved the letter in + the air. + </p> + <p> + Richard went the colour of ashes. He faltered a moment, then took refuge + in the truth, for all that he knew beforehand that the truth was bound to + ring more false than any lie he could invent. + </p> + <p> + “That letter was not addressed to me,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle read the subscription, “To my good friend W., at Bridgwater.” He + looked up, a heavy sneer thrusting his heavy lip still further out. “What + do you say to that? Does not 'W' stand for Westmacott?” + </p> + <p> + “It does not.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said Albemarle with heavy sarcasm. “It stands for + Wilkins, or Williams, or... or... What-not.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I can bear witness that it does not,” exclaimed Sir Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Be silent, sir, I tell you!” bawled the Duke at him again. “You shall + bear witness soon enough, I promise you. To whom, then,” he resumed, + turning again to Richard, “do you say that this letter was addressed?” + </p> + <p> + “To Mr. Wilding—Mr. Anthony Wilding,” Richard answered. + </p> + <p> + “I would have Your Grace to observe,” put in Trench ard quietly, “that Mr. + Wilding, properly speaking, does not reside in Bridgwater.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” cried Albemarle; “the rogue but mentions the first name with a 'W' + that occurs to him. He's not even an ingenious liar. And how, sir,” he + asked Richard, “does it come to be in your possession, having been + addressed, as you say, to Mr. Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, sir,” said Sir Edward, blinking his weak eyes. “Tell us that.” + </p> + <p> + Richard hesitated again, and looked at Blake. Blake, who by now had come + to realize that his friend's affairs were not mended by his interruptions, + moodily shrugged his shoulders, scowling. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir,” said Colonel Luttrell, engagingly, “answer the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” roared Albemarle; “let your invention have free rein.” + </p> + <p> + Again poor Richard sought refuge in the truth. “We—Sir Rowland here + and I—had reason to suspect that he was awaiting such a letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us your reasons, sir, if we are to credit you,” said the Duke, and + it was plain he mocked the prisoner. It was, moreover, a request that + staggered Richard. Still, he sought to find a reason that should sound + plausible. + </p> + <p> + “We inferred it from certain remarks that Mr. Wilding let fall in our + presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us the remarks, sir,” the Duke insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I do not call his precise words to mind, Your Grace. But they + were such that we suspicioned him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would have me believe that hearing words which awoke in you such + grave suspicions, you kept your suspicions and straightway forgot the + words. You're but an indifferent liar.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard, who was standing by the long table, leaned forward now. + </p> + <p> + “It might be well, an it please Your Grace,” said he, “to waive the point, + and let us come to those matters which are of greater moment. Let him tell + Your Grace how he came by the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Albemarle. “We do but waste time. Tell us, then, how came the + letter into your hands?” + </p> + <p> + “With Sir Rowland, here, I robbed the courier as he was riding from + Taunton to Bridgwater.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle laughed, and Sir Edward smiled. “You robbed him, eh?” said His + Grace. “Very well. But how did it happen that you knew he had the letter + upon him, or was it that you were playing the hightobymen, and that in + robbing him you hoped to find other matters?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so, sir,” answered Richard. “I sought but the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “And how knew you that he carried it? Did you learn that, too, from Mr. + Wilding's indiscretion?” + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace has said it.” + </p> + <p> + “'Slife! What an impudent rogue have we here!” cried the angry Duke, who + conceived that Richard was purposely dealing in effrontery. “Mr. + Trenchard, I do think we are wasting time. Be so good as to confound them + both with the truth of this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “That letter,” said Trenchard, “was delivered to them at the Hare and + Hounds, here at Taunton, by a gentleman who put up at the inn, and was + there joined by Mr. Westmacott and Sir Rowland Blake. They opened the + conversation with certain cant phrases very clearly intended as passwords. + Thus: the prisoners said to the messenger, as they seated themselves at + the table he occupied, 'You have the air, sir, of being from overseas,' to + which the courier answered, 'Indeed, yes. I am from Holland. 'From the + land of Orange,' says one of the prisoners. 'Aye, and other things,' + replies the messenger. 'There is a fair wind blowing,' he adds; to which + one of the prisoners, I believe it was Sir Rowland, makes answer, 'Mayit + prosper the Protestant Duke and blow Popery to hell.' Thereupon the + landlord caught some mention of a letter, but these plotters, perceiving + that they were perhaps being overheard, sent him away to fetch them wine. + A half-hour later the messenger took his leave, and the prisoners followed + a very few minutes afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle turned to the prisoners. “You have heard Mr. Trenchard's story. + How do you say—is it true or untrue?” + </p> + <p> + “You will waste breath in denying it,” Trenchard took it again upon + himself to admonish them. “For I have with me the landlord of the Hare and + Hounds, who will corroborate, upon oath, what I have said.” + </p> + <p> + “We do not deny it,” put in Blake. “But we submit that the matter is + susceptible to explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “You can keep your explanations till your trial, then,” snapped Albemarle. + “I have heard more than enough to commit the pair of you to gaol.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Your Grace,” cried Sir Rowland, so fiercely that one of the + tything-men set a restraining hand upon his shoulder, “I am ready to swear + that what I did, and what my friend Mr. Westmacott did, was done in the + interests of His Majesty. We were working to discover this plot.” + </p> + <p> + “Which, no doubt,” put in Trenchard slyly, “is the reason why, having got + the letter, your friend Mr. Westmacott locked it in a desk, and you kept + silence on the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” exclaimed Albemarle, “how your lies do but serve further to + bind you in the toils. It is ever thus with traitors.” + </p> + <p> + “I do think you are a damned traitor, Trenchard,” began Blake; “a foul...” + </p> + <p> + But what more he would have said was checked by Albemarle, who thundered + forth an order for their removal, and then, scarce were the words uttered + than the door at the far end of the hall was opened, and through it came a + sound of women's voices. Richard started, for one was the voice of Ruth. + </p> + <p> + An usher advanced. “May it please Your Grace, there are two ladies here + beg that you will hear their evidence in the matter of Mr. Westmacott and + Sir Rowland Blake.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle considered a moment. Trenchard stood very thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said the Duke, at last, “I have heard as much as I need hear,” + and Sir Phelips nodded in token of concurrence. + </p> + <p> + Not so, however, Colonel Luttrell. “Still,” said he, “in the interests of + His Majesty, perhaps, we should be doing well to receive them.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle blew out his cheeks like a man wearied, and stared an instant at + Luttrell. Then he shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Admit them, then,” he commanded almost peevishly, and Ruth and Diana were + ushered into the hall. Both were pale, but whilst Diana was fluttered with + excitement, Ruth was calm and cool, and it was she who spoke in answer to + the Duke's invitation. The burden of her speech was a clear, succinct + recitation—in which she spared neither Wilding nor herself—of + how the letter came to have remained in her hands and silence to have been + preserved regarding it. Albemarle heard her very patiently. + </p> + <p> + “If what you say is true, mistress,” said he, “and God forbid that I + should be so ungallant as to throw doubt upon a lady's word, it certainly + explains—although most strangely—how the letter was not + brought to us at once by your brother and his friend Sir Rowland. You are + prepared to swear that this letter was intended for Mr. Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + “I am prepared to swear it,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “This is very serious,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Very serious,” assented Sir Edward Phelips. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle, a little flustered, turned to his colleagues. “What do you say + to this? Were it perhaps well to order Mr. Wilding's apprehension, and to + have him brought hither?” + </p> + <p> + “It were to give yourselves useless trouble, gentlemen,” said Trenchard, + with so much assurance that it was plain Albemarle hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Beware of Mr. Trenchard, Your Grace,” cried Ruth. “He is Mr. Wilding's + friend, and if there is a plot he is sure to be in it.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle, startled, looked at Trenchard. Had the accusation come from + either of the men the Duke would have silenced him and abused him; but + coming from a woman, and so comely a woman, it seemed to His Grace worthy + at least of consideration. But nimble Mr. Trenchard was easily master of + the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Which, of course,” he answered, with fine sarcasm, “is the reason why I + have been at work for the past four-and-twenty hours to lay proofs of this + plot before Your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle was ashamed of his momentary hesitation. + </p> +<p> + “For the rest,” said Trenchard, “it is perfectly true that I am +Mr. Wilding's friend. But the lady is even more intimately connected +with him. It happens that she is his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “His... his wife!” gasped the Duke, whilst Phelips chuckled, and Colonel + Luttrell's face grew dark. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard's wicked smile flickered upon his mobile features. “There are + rumours current of court paid her by Sir Rowland, there. Who knows?” he + questioned most suggestively, arching his brows and tightening his lips. + “Wives are strange kittle-kattle, and husbands have been known before to + grow inconvenient. Upon reflection, Your Grace will no doubt discern the + precise degree of faith to attach to what this lady may tell you against + Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Ruth, her cheeks flaming crimson. “But this is monstrous!” + </p> + <p> + “Tis how I should myself describe it,” answered Trenchard without shame. + </p> + <p> + Spurred to it thus, Ruth poured out the entire story of her marriage, and + so clear and lucid was her statement that it threw upon the affair a flood + of light, whilst so frank and truthful was her tone, her narrative hung so + well together, that the Bench began to recover from the shock to its + faith, and was again in danger of believing her. Trenchard saw this and + trembled. To save Wilding for the Cause he had resorted to this desperate + expedient of betraying that Cause. It must be observed, however, that he + had not done so save under the conviction that betrayed it was bound to + be, and that since that was inevitable the thing had better come from him—for + Wilding's sake—than from Richard Westmacott. He had taken the bull + by the horns in a most desperate fashion when he had determined to hoist + Richard and Blake with their own petard, hoping that, after all, the harm + would reach no further than the destruction of these two—a purely + defensive measure. But now this girl threatened to wreck his scheme just + as it was being safely steered to harbour. Suddenly he swung round, + interrupting her. + </p> + <p> + “Lies, lies, lies!” he clamoured, and his interruption coming at such a + time served to impress the Duke most unfavourably—as well it might. + </p> + <p> + “It is our wish to hear this lady out, Mr. Trenchard,” the Duke reproved + him. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Trenchard was undismayed. Indeed, he had just discovered a + hitherto neglected card, which should put an end to this dangerous game. + </p> + <p> + “I do abhor to hear Your Grace's patience thus abused,” he exclaimed with + some show of heat. “This lady makes a mock of you. If you'll allow me to + ask two questions—or perhaps three—I'll promise finally to + prick this bubble for you. Have I Your Grace's leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Albemarle. “Let us hear your questions.” And his + colleagues nodded. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard turned airily to Ruth. Behind her Diana sat—an attendant + had fetched a chair for her—in fear and wonder at what she saw and + heard, her eyes ever and anon straying to Sir Rowland's back, which was + towards her. + </p> + <p> + “This letter, madam,” said he, “for the possession of which you have + accounted in so... so... picturesque a manner, was intended for and + addressed to Mr. Wilding, you say. And you are prepared to swear to it?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned indignantly to the Bench. “Must I answer this man's + questions?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I think, perhaps, it were best you did,” said the Duke, still showing her + all deference. + </p> + <p> + She turned to Trenchard, her head high, her eyes full upon his wrinkled, + cynical face. “I swear, then...” she began, but he—consummate actor + that he was and versed in tricks that impress an audience—interrupted + her, raising one of his gnarled, yellow hands. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” said he. “I would not have perjury proved against you. I do + not ask you to swear. It will be sufficient if you pronounce yourself + prepared to swear.” + </p> + <p> + She pouted her lip a trifle, her whole expression manifesting her contempt + of him. “I am in no fear of perjuring myself,” she answered fearlessly. + “And I swear that the letter in question was addressed to Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” said Trenchard, and was careful not to ask her how she came + by her knowledge. “The letter, no doubt, was in an outer wrapper, on which + there would be a superscription—the name of the person to whom the + letter was addressed?” he half questioned, and Luttrell, who saw the drift + of the question, nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Now you will acknowledge, I am sure, madam, that such a wrapper would be + a document of the greatest importance, as important, indeed, as the letter + itself, since we could depend upon it finally to clear up this point on + which we differ. You will admit so much, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” she answered, but her voice faltered a little, and her glance + was not quite so fearless. She, too, saw at last the pit he had dug for + her. He leaned forward, smiling quietly, his voice impressively subdued, + and launched the bolt that was to annihilate the credibility of the story + she had told. + </p> + <p> + “Can you, then, explain how it comes that that wrapper has been + suppressed? Can you tell us how—the matter being as you state it—in + very self-defence against the dangers of keeping such a letter, your + brother did not also keep that wrapper?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes fell away from his face, they turned to Albemarle, who sat + scowling again, and from him they flickered unsteadily to Phelips and + Luttrell, and lastly, to Richard, who, very white and with set teeth, + stood listening to the working of his ruin. + </p> + <p> + “I... I do not know,” she faltered at last. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Trenchard, drawing a deep breath. He turned to the Bench. “Need + I suggest what was the need—the urgent need—for suppressing + that wrapper?” quoth he. “Need I say what name was inscribed upon it? I + think not. Your Grace's keen insight, and yours, gentlemen, will determine + what was probable.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland now stood forward, addressing Albemarle. “Will Your Grace + permit me to offer my explanation of this?” + </p> + <p> + Albemarle banged the table. His patience was at an end, since he came now + to believe—as Trenchard had earlier suggested—that he had been + played upon by Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Too many explanations have I heard already, sir,” he answered. He turned + to one of his secretaries. In his sudden excess of choler he forgot his + colleagues altogether. “The prisoners are committed for trial,” said he + harshly, and Trenchard breathed freely at last. But the next instant he + caught his breath again, for a ringing voice was heard without demanding + to see His Grace of Albemarle at once, and the voice was the voice of + Anthony Wilding. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE MARPLOT + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Wilding's appearance produced as many different emotions as there were + individuals present. He made the company a sweeping bow on his admission + by Albemarle's orders, a bow which was returned by a stare from one and + all. Diana eyed him in amazement, Ruth in hope; Richard averted his glance + from that of his brother-in-law, whilst Sir Rowland met it with a scowl of + enmity—they had not come face to face since the occasion of that + encounter in which Sir Rowland's self-love had been so rudely handled. + Albemarle's face expressed a sort of satisfaction, which was reflected on + the countenances of Phelips and Luttrell; whilst Trenchard never thought + of attempting to dissemble his profound dismay. And this dismay was + shared, though not in so deep a measure, by Wilding himself. Trenchard's + presence gave him pause; for he had been far, indeed, from dreaming that + his friend had a hand in this affair. At sight of him all was made clear + to Mr. Wilding. At once he saw the role which Trenchard had assumed on + this occasion, saw to the bottom of the motives that had inspired him to + take the bull by the horns and level against Richard and Blake this + accusation before they had leisure to level it against himself. + </p> + <p> + His quick wits having fathomed Trenchard's motive, Mr. Wilding was deeply + touched by this proof of friendship, and for a second, as deeply + nonplussed, at loss now how to discharge the task on which he came. + </p> + <p> + “You are very choicely come, Mr. Wilding,” said Albemarle. “You will be + able to resolve me certain doubts which have been set on foot by these + traitors.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Mr. Wilding, “is the purpose for which I am here. News + reached me of the arrest that had been made. May I beg that Your Grace + will place me in possession of the facts that have so far transpired.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of his secretaries who, at Albemarle's bidding, gave Wilding + the information that he craved. He listened gravely; then, before + Albemarle had time to question him on the score of the name that might + have been upon the enfolding wrapper of the letter, he begged that he + might confer apart a moment with Mr. Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Wilding,” said Colonel Luttrell, surprised not to hear the + immediate denial of the imputation they had expected, “we should first + like to hear...” + </p> + <p> + “By your leave, sirs,” Wilding interrupted, “I should prefer that you ask + me nothing until I have consulted with Mr. Trenchard.” He saw Luttrell's + frown, observed Sir Edward shift his wig to scratch his head in sheer + perplexity, and caught the fore-shadowing of denial on the Duke's face. + So, without giving any of them time to say him nay, he added quickly and + very seriously, “I am begging this in the interests of justice. Your Grace + has told me that some lingering doubt still haunts your mind upon the + subject of this letter—the other charges can matter little, apart + from that treasonable document. It lies within my power to resolve such + doubts most clearly and finally. But I warn you, sirs, that not one word + will I utter in this connection until I have had speech with Mr. + Trenchard.” + </p> + <p> + There was about his mien and voice a firmness that forewarned Albemarle + that to insist would be worse than idle. A slight pause followed his + words, and Luttrell leaned across to whisper in His Grace's ear; from the + Duke's other side Sir Edward bent his head forward till it almost touched + those of his companions. Blake watched, and was most foolishly impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace will never allow this!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Albemarle, scowling at him. + </p> + <p> + “If you allow those two villains to consort together we are all undone,” + the baronet protested, and ruined what chance there was of Albemarle's not + consenting. + </p> + <p> + It was the one thing needed to determine Albemarle. Like the stubborn man + he was, there was naught he detested so much as to have his course + dictated to him. More than that, in Sir Rowland's anxiety that Wilding and + Trenchard should not be allowed to confer apart, he smoked a fear on Sir + Rowland's part, based upon the baronet's consciousness of his own guilt. + He turned from him with a sneering smile, and without so much as + consulting his associates he glanced at Wilding and waved his hand towards + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Pray do as you suggest, Mr. Wilding,” said he. “But I depend upon you not + to tax our patience.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not keep Mr. Trenchard a moment longer than is necessary,” said + Wilding, giving no hint of the second meaning in his words. + </p> + <p> + He stepped to the door, opened it himself, and signed to Trenchard to pass + out. The old player obeyed him readily, if in silence. An usher closed the + door after them, and in silence they walked together to the end of the + passage. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your horse, Nick?” quoth Wilding abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague do you mean, where is my horse?” flashed Trenchard. “What + midsummer frenzy is this? Damn you for a marplot, Anthony! What a pox are + you thinking of to thrust yourself in here at such a time?” + </p> + <p> + “I had no knowledge you were in the affair,” said Wilding. “You should + have told me.” His manner was brisk to the point of dryness. “However, + there is still time to get you out of it. Where is your horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Damn my horse!” answered Trenchard in a passion. “You have spoiled + everything!” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” said Mr. Wilding tartly, “it seems you had done that + very thoroughly before I arrived. Whilst I am touched by the regard for me + which has misled you into turning the tables on Blake and Westmacott, yet + I do blame you for this betrayal of the Cause.” + </p> + <p> + “There was no help for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; and that is why you should have left matters where they stood.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard stamped his foot; indeed, he almost danced in the excess of his + vexation. “Left them where they stood!” he echoed. “Body o' me! Where are + your wits? Left them where they stood! And at any moment you might have + been taken unawares as a consequence of this accusation being lodged + against you by Richard or by Blake. Then the Cause would have been + betrayed, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more so than it is now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not less, at least,” snapped the player. “You give me credit for no more + wit than yourself. Do you think that I am the man to do things by halves? + I have betrayed the plot to Albemarle; but do you imagine I have made no + provision for what must follow?” + </p> + <p> + “Provision?” echoed Wilding, staring. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, provision. God lack! What do you suppose Albemarle will do?” + </p> + <p> + “Dispatch a messenger to Whitehall with the letter within an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “You perceive it, do you? And where the plague do you think Nick + Trenchard'll be what time that messenger rides?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding understood. “Aye, you may stare,” sneered Trenchard. “A letter + that has once been stolen may be stolen again. The courier must go by way + of Walford. I had in my mind arranged the spot, close by the ford, where I + should fall upon him, rob him of his dispatches, and take him—bound + hand and foot if necessary—to Vallancey's, who lives close by; and + there I'd leave him until word came that the Duke had landed.” + </p> + <p> + “That the Duke had landed?” cried Wilding. “You talk as though the thing + were imminent.” + </p> + <p> + “And imminent it is. For aught we know he may be in England already.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding laughed impatiently. “You must forever be building on these + crack-brained rumours, Nick,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Rumours!” roared the other. “Rumours? Ha!” He checked his wild scorn, and + proceeded in a different key. “I was forgetting. You do not know the + Contents of that stolen letter.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding started. Underlying his disbelief in the talk of the countryside, + and even in the military measures which by the King's orders were being + taken in the West, was an uneasy dread lest they should prove to be well + founded, lest Argyle's operations in Scotland should be but the forerunner + of a rash and premature invasion by Monmouth. He knew the Duke was + surrounded by such reckless, foolhardy counsellors as Grey and Ferguson—and + yet he could not think the Duke would ruin all by coming before he had + definite word that his friends were ready. He looked at Trenchard now with + anxious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the letter, Nick?” he asked, and almost dreaded the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Albemarle showed it me an hour ago,” said Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “And it contains?” + </p> + <p> + “The news we fear. It is in the Duke's own hand, and intimates that he + will follow it in a few days—in a few days, man in person.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding clenched teeth and hands. “God help us all, then!” he muttered + grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile,” quoth Trenchard, bringing him back to the point, “there is + this precious business here. I had as choice a plan as could have been + devised, and it must have succeeded, had you not come blundering into it + to mar it all at the last moment. That fat fool Albemarle had swallowed my + impeachment like a draught of muscadine. Do you hear me?” he ended + sharply, for Mr. Wilding stood bemused, his thoughts plainly wandering. + </p> + <p> + He let his hand fall upon Trenchard's shoulder. “No,” said he, “I wasn't + listening. No matter; for even had I known the full extent of your scheme + I still must have interfered.” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of Mistress Westmacott's blue eyes, no doubt,” sneered + Trenchard. “Pah! Wherever there's a woman there's the loss of a man.” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of Mistress Wilding's blue eyes,” his friend corrected him. + “I'll allow no brother of hers to hang in my place.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be interesting to see how you will rescue him.” + </p> + <p> + “By telling the truth to Albemarle.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll not believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall prove it,” said Wilding quietly. Trenchard swung round upon him + in mingled anger and alarm for him. “You shall not do it!” he snarled. “It + is nothing short of treason to the Duke to get yourself laid by the heels + at such a time as this.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to avoid it,” answered Wilding confidently. + </p> + <p> + “Avoid it? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by staying longer here in talk. That will ruin all. Away with you, + Trenchard!” + </p> + <p> + “By my soul, no!” answered Trenchard. “I'll not leave you. If I have got + you into this, I'll help to get you out again, or stay in it with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you of Monmouth?” Wilding admonished him. + </p> + <p> + “Damn Monmouth!” was the vicious answer. “I am here, and here I stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Get to horse, you fool, and ride to Walford as you proposed, there to + ambush the messenger. The letter will go to Whitehall none the less in + spite of what I shall tell Albemarle. If things go well with me, I shall + join you at Vallancey's before long.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if that is your intention,” said Trenchard, “I had better stay, and + we can ride together. It will make it less uncertain for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But less certain for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The more reason why I should remain.” + </p> + <p> + The door of the hall was suddenly flung open at the far end of the + corridor, and Albemarle's booming voice, impatiently raised, reached them + where they stood. + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” added Trenchard, “it seems there is no help for it now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding shrugged his shoulders, but otherwise dissembled his vexation. + Up the passage floated the constable's voice calling them. + </p> + <p> + Side by side they moved down, and side by side they stepped once more into + the presence of Christopher Monk and his associates. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, you have not been in haste,” was the Duke's ill-humoured greeting. + </p> + <p> + “We have tarried a little that we might make an end the sooner,” answered + Trenchard dryly, and this was the first indication he gave Mr. Wilding of + how naturally—like the inimitable actor that he was—he had + slipped into his new role. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle waved the frivolous rejoinder aside. “Come, Mr. Wilding,” said + he, “let us hear what you may have to say. You are not, I take it, about + to urge any reasons why these rogues should not be committed?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Your Grace,” said Wilding, “that is what I am about to urge.” + </p> + <p> + Blake and Richard looked at him suddenly, and from him to Trenchard; but + it was only Ruth whose eyes were shrewd enough to observe the altered + demeanour of the latter. Her hopes rose, founded upon this oddly assorted + pair. Already in anticipation she was stirred by gratitude towards + Wilding, and it was in impatient and almost wondering awe that she waited + for him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “I take it, sir,” he said, without waiting for Albemarle to express any of + the fresh astonishment his countenance manifested, “that the accusation + against these gentlemen rests entirely upon the letter which you have been + led to believe was addressed to Mr. Westmacott.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke scowled a moment before replying. “Why,” said he, “if it could be + shown—irrefutably shown—that the letter was not addressed to + either of them, that would no doubt establish the truth of what they say—that + they possessed themselves of the letter in the interests of His Majesty.” + He turned to Luttrell and Phelips, and they nodded their concurrence with + his view of the matter. “But,” he continued, “if you are proposing to + prove any such thing, I think you will find it difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding drew a crumpled paper from his pocket. “When the courier whom + they robbed, as they have correctly informed you,” said he quietly, + “suspected their design upon the contents of his wallet, he bethought him + of removing the wrapper from the letter, so that in case the letter were + seized by them it should prove nothing against any man in particular. He + stuffed the wrapper into the lining of his hat, preserving it as a proof + of his good faith against the time when he should bring the letter to its + destination, or come to confess that it had been taken from him. That + wrapper the courier brought to me, and I have it here. The evidence it + will give should be more than sufficient to warrant your restoring these + unjustly accused gentlemen their liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “The courier took it to you?” echoed Albemarle, stupefaction in his + glance. “But why to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Wilding, and with his left hand he placed the wrapper + before Albemarle, whilst his right dropped again to his pocket, “the + letter, as you may see, was addressed to me.” + </p> + <p> + The quiet manner in which he made the announcement conveyed almost as + great a shock as the announcement itself. + </p> + <p> + Albemarle took up the wrapper; Luttrell and Phelips craned forward to join + him in his scrutiny of it. They compared the two, paper with paper, + writing with writing. Then Monk flung one and the other down in front of + him. + </p> + <p> + “What lies have I been hearing, then?” he demanded furiously of Trenchard. + “'Slife I'll make an example of you. Arrest me that rogue—arrest + them both,” and he half rose from his seat, his trembling hand pointing to + Wilding and Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + Two of the tything-men stirred to do his bidding, but in the same instant + Albemarle found himself looking into the round nozzle of a pistol. + </p> + <p> + “If,” said Mr. Wilding, “a finger is laid upon Mr. Trenchard or me I shall + have the extreme mortification of being compelled to shoot Your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + His pleasantly modulated voice was as deliberate and calm as if he were + offering the Bench a pinch of snuff. Albemarle's dark visage crimsoned; + his eyes became at once wicked and afraid. Sir Edward's cheeks turned + pale, his glance grew startled. Luttrell alone, vigilant and dangerous, + preserved his calm. But the situation baffled even him. + </p> + <p> + Behind the two friends the tything-men had come to a terror-stricken halt. + Diana had risen from her chair in the excitement of the moment and had + drawn close to Ruth, who looked on with parted lips and bosom that rose + and fell. Even Blake could not stifle his admiration of Mr. Wilding's + coolness and address. Richard, on the other hand, was concerned only with + thoughts for himself, wondering how it would fare with him if Wilding and + Trenchard succeeded in getting away. + </p> + <p> + “Nick,” said Mr. Wilding, “will you desire those catchpolls behind us to + stand aside? If Your Grace raises your voice to call for help, if, indeed, + any measures are taken calculated to lead to our capture, I can promise + Your Grace—notwithstanding my profound reluctance to use violence—that + they will be the last measures you will take in life. Be good enough to + open the door, Nick, and to see that the key is on the outside.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard, who was by way of enjoying himself now, stepped briskly down + the hall to do as his friend bade him, with a wary eye on the tything-men. + But never so much as a finger did they dare to lift. Mr. Wilding's calm + was too deadly; they had seen a man in earnest before this, and they knew + his appearance now. From the doorway Trenchard called Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “I must be going, Your Grace,” said the latter very courteously, “but I + shall not be so wanting in deference to His Majesty's august + representatives as to turn my back upon you.” Saying which, he walked + backwards, holding his pistol level, until he had reached Trenchard and + the door. There he paused and made them a deep bow, his manner the more + mocking in that there was no tinge of mockery perceptible. “Your very + obedient servant,” said he, and stepped outside. Trenchard turned the key, + withdrew it from the lock, and, standing on tiptoe, thrust it upon the + ledge of the lintel. + </p> + <p> + Instantly a clamour arose within the chamber. But the two friends never + stayed to listen. Down the passage they sped at the double, and out into + the courtyard. Here Ruth's groom, mounted himself, was walking his + mistress's and Diana's horses up and down whilst he waited; yonder one of + Sir Edward's stable-boys was holding Mr. Wilding's roan. Two or three men + of the Somerset militia, in their red and yellow liveries, lounged by the + gates, and turned uninterested eyes upon these newcomers. + </p> + <p> + Wilding approached his wife's groom. “Get down,” he said, “I need your + horse—on the King's business. Get down, I say,” he added + impatiently, upon noting the fellow's stare, and, seizing his leg, he + helped him to dismount by almost dragging him from the saddle. “Up with + you, Nick,” said he, and Nick very promptly mounted. “Your mistress will + be here presently,” Wilding told the groom, and, turning on his heel, + strode to his own mare. A moment later Trenchard and he vanished through + the gateway with a tremendous clatter, just as the Lord-Lieutenant, + Colonel Luttrell, Sir Edward Phelips, the constable, the tything-men, Sir + Rowland, Richard, and the ladies made their appearance. + </p> + <p> + Ruth pushed her way quickly to the front. She feared lest her horse and + her cousin's being at hand might be used for the pursuit; so urging Diana + to do the same, she snatched her reins from the hands of the dumbfounded + groom and leapt nimbly to the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “After them!” roared Albemarle, and the constable with two of his men made + a dash for the gateway to raise the hue and cry, whilst the militiamen + watched them in stupid, inactive wonder. “Damnation, mistress!” thundered + the Duke in ever-increasing passion, “hold your nag! Hold your nag, + woman!” For Ruth's horse had become unmanageable, and was caracoling about + the yard between the men and the gateway in such a manner that they dared + not attempt to win past her. + </p> + <p> + “You have scared him with your bellowing,” she panted, tugging at the + bridle, and all but backed into the constable who had been endeavouring to + get round behind her. The beast continued its wild prancing, and the Duke + abated nothing in his furious profanity, until suddenly the groom, having + relinquished to Diana the reins of the other horse, sprang to Ruth's + assistance and caught her bridle in a firm grasp which brought the animal + to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” she hissed at him, and half raised her whip to strike, but + checked on the impulse, bethinking her in time that, after all, what the + poor lad had done he had done thinking her distressed. + </p> + <p> + The constable and a couple of his fellows won through; others were rousing + the stable and getting to horse, and in the courtyard all was bustle and + commotion. Meanwhile, however, Mr. Wilding and Trenchard had made the most + of their start, and were thundering through the town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. AT THE FORD + </h2> + <p> + As Mr. Wilding and Nick Trenchard rode hell-to-leather through Taunton + streets they never noticed a horseman at the door of the Red Lion Inn. But + the horseman noticed them. He looked up at the sound of their wild + approach, started upon recognizing them, and turned in his saddle as they + swept past him to call upon them excitedly to stop. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” he shouted. “Nick Trenchard! Hi! Wilding!” Then, seeing that they + either did not hear or did not heed him, he loosed a volley of oaths, + wheeled his horse about, drove home the spurs, and started in pursuit. Out + of the town he followed them and along the road towards Walford, shouting + and clamouring at first, afterwards in a grim and angry silence. + </p> + <p> + Now, despite their natural anxiety for their own safety, Wilding and + Trenchard had by no means abandoned their project of taking cover by the + ford to await the messenger whom Albemarle and the others would no doubt + be sending to Whitehall; and this mad fellow thundering after them seemed + in a fair way to mar their plan. As they reluctantly passed the spot they + had marked out for their ambush, splashed through the ford and breasted + the rising ground beyond, they took counsel. They determined to stand and + meet this rash pursuer. Trenchard calmly opined that if necessary they + must shoot him; he was, I fear, a bloody-minded fellow at bottom, + although, it is true he justified himself now by pointing out that this + was no time to hesitate at trifles. Partly because they talked and partly + because the gradient was steep and their horses needed breathing, they + slackened rein, and the horseman behind them came tearing through the + water of the ford and lessened the distance considerably in the next few + minutes. + </p> + <p> + He bethought him of using his lungs once more. “Hi, Wilding! Hold, damn + you!” + </p> + <p> + “He curses you in a most intimate manner,” quoth Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + Wilding reined in and turned in the saddle. “His voice has a familiar + sound,” said he. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked down the + slope at the pursuer, who came on crouching low upon the withers of his + goaded beast. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” the fellow shouted. “I have news—news for you!” + </p> + <p> + “It's Vallancey!” cried Wilding suddenly. Trenchard too had drawn rein and + was looking behind him. Instead of expressing relief at the discovery that + this was not an enemy, he swore at the trouble to which they had so + needlessly put themselves, and he was still at his vituperations when + Vallancey came up with them, red in the face and very angry, cursing them + roundly for the folly of their mad career, and for not having stopped when + he bade them. + </p> + <p> + “It was no doubt discourteous,” said Mr. Wilding “but we took you for some + friend of the Lord-Lieutenant's.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they after you?” quoth Vallancey, his face of a sudden very startled. + </p> + <p> + “Like enough,” said Trenchard, “if they have found their horses yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward, then,” Vallancey urged them in excitement, and he picked up his + reins again. “You shall hear my news as we ride.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” said Trenchard. “We have business here down yonder at the ford.” + </p> + <p> + “Business? What business?” + </p> + <p> + They told him, and scarce had they got the words out than he cut in + impatiently. “That's no matter now. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, perhaps,” said Mr. Wilding; “but it will be if that letter gets + to Whitehall.” + </p> + <p> + “Odso!” was the impatient retort, “there's other news travelling to + Whitehall that will make small-beer of this—and belike it's well on + its way there already.” + </p> + <p> + “What news is that?” asked Trenchard. Vallancey told them. “The Duke has + landed—he came ashore this morning at Lyme.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duke?” quoth Mr. Wilding, whilst Trenchard merely stared. “What + Duke?” + </p> + <p> + “What Duke! Lord, you weary me! What dukes be there? The Duke of Monmouth, + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Monmouth!” They uttered the name in a breath. “But is this really true?” + asked Wilding. “Or is it but another rumour?” + </p> + <p> + “Remember the letter your friends intercepted,” Trenchard bade him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not forgetting it,” said Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “It's no rumour,” Vallancey assured them. “I was at White Lackington three + hours ago when the news came to George Speke, and I was riding to carry it + to you, going by way of Taunton that I might drop word of it for our + friends at the Red Lion.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard needed no further convincing; he looked accordingly dismayed. + But Wilding found it still almost impossible—in spite of what + already he had learnt—to credit this amazing news. It was hard to + believe the Duke of Monmouth mad enough to spoil all by this sudden and + unheralded precipitation. + </p> + <p> + “You heard the news at White Lackington?” said he slowly. “Who carried it + thither?” + </p> + <p> + “There were two messengers,” answered Vallancey, with restrained + impatience, “and they were Heywood Dare—who has been appointed + paymaster to the Duke's forces—and Mr. Chamberlain.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding was observed for once to change colour. He gripped Vallancey + by the wrist. “You saw them?” he demanded, and his voice had a husky, + unusual sound. “You saw them?” + </p> + <p> + “With these two eyes,” answered Vallancey, “and I spoke with them.” + </p> + <p> + It was true, then! There was no room for further doubt. + </p> + <p> + Wilding looked at Trenchard, who shrugged his shoulders and made a wry + face. “I never thought but that we were working in the service of a + hairbrain,” said he contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + Vallancey proceeded to details. “Dare and Chamberlain,” he informed them, + “came off the Duke's own frigate at daybreak to-day. They were put ashore + at Seatown, and they rode straight to Mr. Speke's with the news, returning + afterwards to Lyme.” + </p> + <p> + “What men has the Duke with him, did you learn?” asked Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “Not more than a hundred or so, from what Dare told us.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred! God help us all! And is England to be conquered with a hundred + men? Oh, this is midsummer frenzy.” + </p> + <p> + “He counts on all true Protestants to flock to his banner,” put in + Trenchard, and it was not plain whether he expressed a fact or sneered at + one. + </p> + <p> + “Does he bring money and arms, at least?” asked Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “I did not ask,” answered Vallancey. “But Dare told us that three vessels + had come over, so that it is to be supposed he brings some manner of + provision with him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to be hoped so, Vallancey; but hardly to be supposed,” quoth + Trenchard, and then he touched Wilding on the arm and pointed with his + whip across the fields towards Taunton. A cloud of dust was rising from + between tall hedges where ran the road. “I think it were wise to be + moving. At least, this sudden landing of James Scott relieves my mind in + the matter of that letter.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding, having taken a look at the floating dust that announced the + oncoming of their pursuers, was now lost in thought. Vallancey, who, + beyond excitement at the news of which he was the bearer, seemed to have + no opinion of his own as to the wisdom or folly of the Duke's sudden + arrival, looked from one to the other of these two men whom he had known + as the prime secret agents in the West, and waited. Trenchard moved his + horse a few paces nearer the hedge, “Whither now, Anthony?” he asked + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You may ask, indeed!” exclaimed Wilding, and his voice was as bitter as + ever Trenchard had heard it. “'S heart! We are in it now! We had best make + for Lyme—if only that we may attempt to persuade this crack-brained + boy to ship back to Holland again, and ship ourselves with him.” + </p> + <p> + “There's sense in you at last,” grumbled Trenchard. “But I misdoubt me + he'll turn back after having come so far. Have you any money?” he asked. + He could be very practical at times. + </p> + <p> + “A guinea or two. But I can get money at Ilminster.” + </p> + <p> + “And how do you propose to reach Ilminster with these gentlemen by way of + cutting us off?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll double back as far as the cross-roads,” said Wilding promptly, “and + strike south over Swell Hill for Hatch. If we ride hard we can do it + easily, and have little fear of being followed. They'll naturally take it + we have made for Bridgwater.” + </p> + <p> + They acted on the suggestion there and then, Vallancey going with them; + for his task was now accomplished, and he was all eager to get to Lyme to + kiss the hand of the Protestant Duke. They rode hard, as Wilding had said + they must, and they reached the junction of the roads before their + pursuers hove in sight. Here Wilding suddenly detained them again. The + road ahead of them ran straight for almost a mile, so that if they took it + now they were almost sure to be seen presently by the messengers. On their + right a thickly grown coppice stretched from the road to the stream that + babbled in the hollow. He gave it as his advice that they should lie + hidden there until those who hunted them should have gone by. Obviously + that was the only plan, and his companions instantly adopted it. They + found a way through a gate into an adjacent field, and from this they + gained the shelter of the trees. Trenchard, neglectful of his finery and + oblivious of the ubiquitous brambles, left his horse in Vallancey's care + and crept to the edge of the thicket that he might take a peep at the + pursuers. + </p> + <p> + They came up very soon, six militiamen in lobster coats with yellow + facings, and a sergeant, which was what Mr. Trenchard might have expected. + There was, however, something else that Mr. Trenchard did not expect; + something that afforded him considerable surprise. At the head of the + party rode Sir Rowland Blake—obviously leading it—and with him + was Richard Westmacott. Amongst them went a man in grey clothes, whom Mr. + Trenchard rightly conjectured to be the messenger riding for Whitehall. He + thought with a smile of what a handful he and Wilding would have had had + they waited to rob that messenger of the incriminating letter that he + bore. Then he checked his smile to consider again how Sir Rowland Blake + came to head that party. He abandoned the problem, as the little troop + swept unhesitatingly round to the left and went pounding along the road + that led northwards to Bridgwater, clearly never doubting which way their + quarry had sped. + </p> + <p> + As for Sir Rowland Blake's connection with this pursuit, the town gallant + had by his earnestness not only convinced Colonel Luttrell of his loyalty + and devotion to King James, but had actually gone so far as to beg that he + might be allowed to prove that same loyalty by leading the soldiers to the + capture of those self-confessed traitors, Mr. Wilding and Mr. Trenchard. + From his knowledge of their haunts he was confident, he assured Colonel + Luttrell, that he could be of service to the King in this matter. The + fierce sincerity of his purpose shone through his words; Luttrell caught + the accent of hate in Sir Rowland's tense voice, and, being a shrewd man, + he saw that if Mr. Wilding was to be taken, an enemy would surely be the + best pursuer to accomplish it. So he prevailed, and gave him the trust he + sought, in spite of Albemarle's expressed reluctance. And never did + bloodhound set out more relentlessly purposeful upon a scent than did Sir + Rowland follow now in what he believed to be the track of this man who + stood between him and Ruth Westmacott. Until Ruth was widowed, Sir + Rowland's hopes of her must lie fallow; and so it was with a zest that he + flung himself into the task of widowing her. + </p> + <p> + As the party passed out of view round the angle of the white road, + Trenchard made his way back to Wilding to tell him what he had seen and to + lay before him, for his enucleation, the problem of Blake's being the + leader of it. But Wilding thought little of Blake, and cared little of + what he might be the leader. + </p> + <p> + “We'll stay here,” said he, “until they have passed the crest of the + hill.” + </p> + <p> + This, Trenchard told him, was his own purpose; for to leave their + concealment earlier would be to reveal themselves to any of the troopers + who might happen to glance over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + And so they waited some ten minutes or so, and then walked their horses + slowly and carefully forward through the trees towards the road. Wilding + was alongside and slightly ahead of Trenchard; Vallancey followed close + upon their tails. Suddenly, as Wilding was about to put his mare at the + low stone wall, Trenchard leaned forward and caught his bridle. + </p> + <p> + “Ss!” he hissed. “Horses!” + </p> + <p> + And now that they halted they heard the hoofbeats clear and close at hand; + the crackling of undergrowth and the rustle of the leaves through which + they had thrust their passage had deafened their ears to other sounds + until this moment. They checked and waited where they stood, barely + screened by the few boughs that still might intervene between them and the + open, not daring to advance, and not daring to retreat lest their + movements should draw attention to themselves. They remained absolutely + still, scarcely breathing, their only hope being that if these who came + should chance to be enemies they might ride on without looking to right or + left. It was so slender a hope that Wilding looked to the priming of his + pistols, whilst Trenchard, who had none, loosened his sword in its + scabbard. Nearer came the riders. + </p> + <p> + “There are not more than three,” whispered Trenchard, who had been + listening intently, and Mr. Wilding nodded, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Another moment and the little party was abreast of those watchers; a dark + brown riding-habit flashed into their line of vision, and a blue one laced + with gold. At sight of the first Mr. Wilding's eyelids flickered; he had + recognized it for Ruth's, with whom rode Diana, whilst some twenty paces + or so behind came Jerry, the groom. They were returning to Bridgwater. + </p> + <p> + They came along, looking neither to right nor to left, as the three men + had hoped they would, and they were all but past, when suddenly Wilding + gave his roan a touch of the spur and bounded forward. Diana's horse + swerved so that it nearly threw her. Ruth, slightly ahead, reined in at + once; so, too, did the groom in the rear, and so violently in his sudden + fear of highwaymen that he brought his horse on to its hind legs and had + it prancing and rearing madly about the road, so that he was hard put to + it to keep his seat. + </p> + <p> + Ruth looked round as Mr. Wilding's voice greeted her. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Wilding,” he called to her. “A moment, if I may detain you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have eluded them!” she cried, entirely off her guard in her surprise + at seeing him, and there echoed through her words a note of genuine + gladness that almost disconcerted her husband for a moment. The next + instant a crimson flush overspread her pale face, and her eyes were veiled + from him, vexation in her heart at having betrayed the lively satisfaction + it afforded her to see him safe when she feared him captured already or at + least upon the point of capture. + </p> + <p> + She had admired him almost unconsciously for his daring at the town hall + that day, when his strong calm had stood out in such sharp contrast to the + fluster and excitement of the men about him; of them all, indeed, it had + seemed to her in those stressful moments that he was the only man, and she + was—although she did not realize it—in danger of being proud + of him. Then again the thing he had done. He had come deliberately to + thrust his head into the lion's maw that he might save her brother. It was + possible that he had done it in answer to the entreaties which she had + earlier feared she had poured into deaf ears; or it was possible that he + had done it spurred by his sense of right and justice, which would not + permit him to allow another to suffer in his stead—however much that + other might be caught in the very toils that he had prepared for Mr. + Wilding himself. Her admiration, then, was swelled by gratitude, and it + was a compound of these that had urged her to hinder the tything-men from + winning past her until he and Trenchard should have got well away. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, when with Diana and her groom—on a horse which Sir + Edward Phelips insisted upon lending them—she rode homeward from + Taunton, there was Diana to keep alive the spark of kindness that glowed + at last for Wilding in Ruth's breast. Miss Horton extolled his bravery, + his chivalry, his nobility, and ended by expressing her envy of Ruth that + she should have won such a man amongst men for her husband, and wondered + what it might be that kept Ruth from claiming him for her own as was her + right. Ruth had answered little, but she had ridden very thoughtful; there + was that in the past she found it hard to forgive Wilding. And yet she + would now have welcomed an opportunity of thanking him for what he had + done, of expressing to him something of the respect he had won in her eyes + by his act of self-denunciation to save her brother. This chance, it + seemed, was given her, for there he stood, with head bared before her; and + already she thought no longer of seizing the chance, vexed as she was at + having been surprised into a betrayal of feelings whose warmth she had + until that moment scarce estimated. + </p> + <p> + In answer to her cry of “You have eluded them!” he waved a hand towards + the rising ground and the road to Bridgwater. + </p> + <p> + “They passed that way but a few moments since,” said he, “and by the rate + at which they were travelling they should be nearing Newton by now. In + their great haste to catch me they could not pause to look for me so close + at hand,” he added with a smile, “and for that I am thankful.” + </p> + <p> + She sat her horse and answered nothing, which threw her cousin out of all + patience with her. “Come, Jerry,” Diana called to the groom. “We will walk + our horses up the hill.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, madam,” said Mr. Wilding, and he bowed to the withers + of his roan. + </p> + <p> + Ruth said nothing; expressed neither approval nor disapproval of Diana's + withdrawal, and the latter, with a word of greeting to Wilding, went ahead + followed by Jerry, who had regained control by now of the beast he + bestrode. Wilding watched them until they turned the corner, then he + walked his mare slowly forward until he was alongside Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Before I go,” said he, “there is something I should like to say.” His + dark eyes were sombre, his manner betrayed some hesitation. + </p> + <p> + The diffidence of his tone proved startling to her by virtue of its + unusualness. What might it portend, she wondered, and sought with grave + eyes to read his baffling countenance; and then a wild alarm swept into + her and shook her spirit in its grip; there was something of which until + this moment she had not thought—something connected with the fateful + matter of that letter. It had stood as a barrier between them, her + buckler, her sole defence against him. It had been to her what its sting + is to the bee—a thing which if once used in self-defence is + self-destructive. Not, indeed, that she had used it as her sting; it had + been forced from her by the machinations of Trenchard; but used it had + been, and was done with; she had it no longer that with it she might hold + him in defiance, and it did not occur to her that he was no longer in case + to invoke the law. + </p> + <p> + Her face grew stony, a dry glitter came to her blue eyes; she cast a + glance over her shoulder at Diana and her servant. Wilding observed it and + read what was passing in her mind; indeed, it was not to be mistaken, no + more than what is passing in the mind of the recruit who looks behind him + in the act of charging. His lips half smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Of what are you afraid?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid,” she answered in husky accents that belied her. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps to reassure her, perhaps because he thought of his companions + lurking in the thicket and cared not to have them for his audience, he + suggested they should go a little way in the direction her cousin had + taken. She wheeled her horse, and, side by side, they ambled up the dusty + road. + </p> + <p> + “The thing I have to tell you,” said he presently, “concerns myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it concern me?” she asked him coldly, and her coolness was urged + partly by her newborn fears, partly to counterbalance such impression as + her illjudged show of gladness at his safety might have made upon his + mind. He flashed her a sidelong glance, the long white fingers of his + right hand toying thoughtfully with a ringlet of the dark brown hair that + fell upon the shoulders of his scarlet coat. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, madam,” he answered dryly, “what concerns a man may well concern + his wife.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed her head, her eyes upon the road before her. “True,” said she, + her voice expressionless. “I had forgot.” + </p> + <p> + He reined in and turned to look at her; her horse moved on a pace or two, + then came to a halt, apparently of its own accord. + </p> + <p> + “I do protest,” said he, “you treat me less kindly than I deserve.” He + urged his mare forward until he had come up with her again, and then drew + rein once more. “I think that I may lay some claim to—at least—your + gratitude for what I did to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my inclination to be grateful,” said she. She was very wary of him. + “Forgive me, if I am still mistrustful.” + </p> + <p> + “But of what?” he cried, a thought impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Of you. What ends did you seek to serve? Was it to save Richard that you + came?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you think that it was to save Blake,” he said ironically. “What + other ends do you conceive I could have served?” She made him no answer, + and so he resumed after a pause. “I rode to Taunton to serve you for two + reasons; because you asked me, and because I would have no innocent men + suffer in my stead—not even though, as these men, they were but + caught in their own toils, hoist with the petard they had charged for me. + Beyond these two motives, I had no other thought in ruining myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruining yourself?” she cried. Yes, it was true; but she had not thought + of it until this moment; there had been so much to think of. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not ruin to be outlawed, to have a price set upon your head, as + will no doubt a price be set on mine when Albemarle's messenger shall have + reached Whitehall? Is it not ruin to have my lands and all I own made + forfeit to the State, to find myself a beggar, hunted and proscribed? + Forgive me that I harass you with this catalogue of my misfortunes. You'll + say, no doubt, that I have brought them upon myself by compelling you + against your will to marry me. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not deny that it is in my mind,” said she, and of set purpose + stifled pity. + </p> + <p> + He sighed and looked at her again, but she would not meet his eye, else + its whimsical expression might have intrigued her. “Can you deny my + magnanimity, I wonder?” said he, and spoke almost as one amused. “All I + had I sacrificed to do your will, to save your brother from the snare of + his own contriving against me. I wonder do you yet realize how much I + sacrificed to-day at Taunton! I wonder!” And he paused, looking at her and + waiting for some word from her; but she had none for him. + </p> + <p> + “Clearly you do not, else I think you would show me if only a pretence of + kindness.” She was looking at him at last, her eyes less hard. They seemed + to ask him to explain. “When you came this morning with the tale of how + the tables had been turned upon your brother, of how he was caught in his + own springe, and the letter found in his keeping was before the King's + folk at Taunton with every appearance of having been addressed to him, and + not a tittle of evidence to show that it had been meant for me, do you + know what news it was you brought me?” He paused a second, looking at her + from narrowing eyes. Then he answered his own question. “You brought me + the news that you were mine to take whensoe'er I pleased. Whilst that + letter was in your hands it gave you the power to make me your obedient + slave. You might blow upon me as you listed whilst you held it, and I was + a vane that must turn to your blowing for my honour's sake and for the + sake of the cause in which I worked. Through no rashness of mine must that + letter come into the hands of the King's friends, else was I dishonoured. + It was an effective barrier between us. So long as you possessed that + letter you might pipe as you pleased, and I must dance to the tune you + set. And then this morning what you came to tell me was that things were + changed; that it was mine to call the tune. Had I had the strength to be a + villain, you had been mine now, and your brother and Sir Rowland might + have hanged on the rope of their own weaving.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in a startled, almost shamefaced manner. This was an + aspect of the case she had not considered. + </p> + <p> + “You realize it, I see,” he said, and smiled wistfully. “Then perhaps you + realize why you found me so unwilling to do the thing you craved. Having + treated me ungenerously, you came to cast yourself upon my generosity, + asking me—though I scarcely think you understood—to beggar + myself of life itself with all it held for me. God knows I make no + pretence to virtue, and yet I think I had been something more than human + had I not refused you and the bargain you offered—a bargain that you + would never be called upon to fulfil if I did the thing you asked.” + </p> + <p> + At last she interrupted him; she could bear it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I had not thought of it!” she cried. It was a piteous wail that broke + from her. “I swear I had not thought of that. I was all distraught for + poor Richard's sake. Oh, Mr. Wilding,” she turned to him, holding out a + hand; her eyes shone, filmed with moisture, “I shall have a kindness for + you... all my days for your... generosity to-day.” It was lamentably weak, + far from the hot expressions which she forced it to replace. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was generous,” he admitted. “We will move on as far as the + cross-roads.” Again they ambled gently forward. Up the slope from the ford + Diana and Jerry were slowly climbing; not another human being was in sight + ahead or behind them. “After you left me,” he continued, “your memory and + your entreaties lingered with me. I gave the matter of our position + thought, and it seemed to me that all was monstrously ill-done. I loved + you, Ruth, I needed you, and you disdained me. My love was master of me. + But 'neath your disdain it was transmuted oddly.” He checked the passion + that was vibrating in his voice and resumed after a pause, in the calm, + slow tones, soft and musical, that were his own. “There is scarce the need + for so much recapitulation. When the power was mine I bent you unfairly to + my will; you did as much by me when the power suddenly became yours. It + was a strange war between us, and I accepted its conditions. To-day, when + the power was mine again, mine to bring you at last to subjection, behold, + I have capitulated at your bidding, and all that I held—including + your own self—have I relinquished. It is perhaps fitting. Haply I am + punished for having wed you before I had wooed you.” Again his tone + changed, it grew more cold, more matter-of-fact. “I rode this way a little + while ago a hunted man, my only hope to reach home and collect what moneys + and valuables I could carry, and make for the coast to find a vessel bound + for Holland. I have been engaged, as you know, in stirring up rebellion to + check the iniquities and persecutions that are toward in a land I love. + I'll not weary you with details. Time was needed for this as for all + things, and by next spring, perhaps, had matters gone well, this vineyard + that so carefully and secretly I have been tending, would have been, + maybe, in condition to bear fruit. Even now, in the hour of my flight, I + learn that others have come to force this delicate growth into sudden + maturity. There! Soon ripe, soon rotten. The Duke of Monmouth has landed + at Lyme this morning. I am riding to him.” + </p> + <p> + “To what end?” she cried, and he saw in her face a dismay that amounted + almost to fear, and he wondered was it for him. + </p> + <p> + “To place my sword at his service. Were I not encompassed by this ruin, I + should not have stirred a foot in that direction—so rash, so + foredoomed to failure is this invasion. As it is,”—he shrugged and + laughed—“it is the only hope—all forlorn though it may be—for + me.” + </p> + <p> + The trammels she had imposed upon her soul fell away at that like bonds of + cobweb. She laid her hand upon his wrists, tears stood in her eyes; her + lips quivered. + </p> + <p> + “Anthony, forgive me,” she besought him. He trembled under her touch, + under the caress of her voice, and at the sound of his name for the first + time upon her lips. + </p> + <p> + “What have I to forgive?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The thing that I did in the matter of that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor child,” said he, smiling gently upon her, “you did it in + self-defence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet say that you forgive me—say it before you go!” she begged him. + </p> + <p> + He considered her gravely a moment. “To what end,” he asked, “do you + imagine that I have talked so much? To the end that I might show you that + however I may have wronged you I have at the last made some amends; and + that for the sake of this, the truest proof of penitence, I may have your + forgiveness ere I go.” + </p> + <p> + She was weeping softly. “It was an ill day on which we met,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “For you—aye.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—for you. + </p> + <p> + “We'll say for both of us, then,” he compromised. “See, Ruth, your cousin + grows weary, and I have a couple of comrades who are no doubt impatient to + be gone. It may not be good for us to tarry in these parts. Some amends I + have made; but there is one crowning wrong which I have done you for which + there is but one amend to make.” He paused. He steadied himself before + continuing. In his attempt to render his voice cold and commonplace he + went near to achieving harshness. “It may be that this crackbrained + rebellion of which the torch is already alight will, if it does no other + good in England, at least make a widow of you. When that has come to pass, + when I have thus repaired the wrong I did you, I hope you'll bear me as + kindly as may be in your thought. Good-bye, my Ruth! I would you might + have loved me. I sought to force it.” He smiled ever so wanly. “Perhaps + that was my mistake. It is an ill thing to eat one's hay while it is + grass.” He raised to his lips the little gloved hand that still rested on + his wrist. “God keep you, Ruth!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + She sought to answer him, but something choked her; a sob was all she + achieved. Had he caught her to him in that moment there is little doubt + but that she had yielded. Perhaps he knew it; and knowing it kept the + tighter rein upon desire. She was as metal molten in the crucible, to be + moulded by his craftsman's hands into any pattern that he chose. But the + crucible was the crucible of pity, not of love; that, too, he knew, and, + knowing it, forbore. + </p> + <p> + He dropped her hand, doffed his hat, and, wheeling his horse about, + touched it with the spur and rode back towards the thicket where his + friends awaited him. As he left her, she too wheeled about, as if to + follow him. She strove to command her voice that she might recall him; but + at that same moment Trenchard, hearing his returning hoofs, thrust out + into the road with Vallancey following at his heels. The old player's + harsh voice reached her where she stood, and it was querulous with + impatience. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague do you mean, dallying here at such a time, Anthony?” he + cried, to which Vallancey added: “In God's name, let us push on.” + </p> + <p> + At that she checked her impulse—it may even be that she mistrusted + it. She paused, lingering undecided for an instant; then, turning her + horse once more, she ambled up the slope to rejoin Diana. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. “PRO RELIGIONE ET LIBERTATE” + </h2> + <p> + The evening was far advanced when Mr. Wilding and his two companions + descended to Uplyme Common from the heights whence as they rode they had + commanded a clear view of the fair valley of the Axe, lying now under a + thin opalescent veil of evening mist. + </p> + <p> + They had paused at Ilminster for fresh horses, and there Wilding had paid + a visit to one of his agents from whom he had procured a hundred guineas. + Thence they had come south at a sharp pace, and with little said. Wilding + was moody and thoughtful, filled with chagrin at this unconscionable + rashness of the man upon whom all his hopes were centred. As they cantered + briskly across Uplyme Common in the twilight they passed several bodies of + countrymen, all heading for the town, and one group sent up a shout of + “God save the Protestant Duke!” as they rode past him. + </p> + <p> + “Amen to that,” muttered Mr. Wilding grimly, “for I am afraid that no man + can.” + </p> + <p> + In the narrow lane by Hay Farm a horseman, going in the opposite + direction, passed them at the gallop; but they had met several such since + leaving Ilminster, for indeed the news was spreading fast, and the whole + countryside was alive with messengers, some on foot and some on horseback, + but all hurrying as if their lives depended on their haste. + </p> + <p> + They made their way to the Market-Place where Monmouth's declaration—that + remarkable manifesto from the pen of Ferguson—had been read some + hours before. Thence, having ascertained where His Grace was lodged, they + made their way to the George Inn. + </p> + <p> + In Coombe Street they found the crowd so dense that they could but with + difficulty open out a way for their horses through the human press. Not a + window but was open, and thronged with sight-seers—mostly women, + indeed, for the men were in the press below. On every hand resounded the + cries of “A Monmouth! A Monmouth! The Protestant Religion! Religion and + Liberty,” which latter were the words inscribed on the standard Monmouth + had set up that evening on the Church Cliffs. + </p> + <p> + In truth, Wilding was amazed at what he saw, and said as much to + Trenchard. So pessimistic had been his outlook that he had almost expected + to find the rebellion snuffed out by the time they reached + Lyme-of-the-King. What had the authorities been about that they had + permitted Monmouth to come ashore, or had Vallancey's information been + wrong in the matter of the numbers that accompanied the Protestant + Champion? Wilding's red coat attracted some attention. In the dusk its + colour was almost all that could be discerned of it. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a militia captain for the Duke!” cried one, and others took up the + cry, and if it did nothing else it opened a way for them through that + solid human mass and permitted them to win through to the yard of the + George Inn. They found the spacious quadrangle thronged with men, armed + and unarmed, and on the steps stood a tall, well-knit, soldierly man, his + hat rakishly cocked, about whom a crowd of townsmen and country fellows + were pressing with insistence. At a glance Mr. Wilding recognized Captain + Venner—raised to the rank of colonel by Monmouth on the way from + Holland. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard dismounted, and taking a distracted stable-boy by the arm, bade + him see to their horses. The fellow endeavoured to swing himself free of + the other's tenacious grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” he cried. “I am for the Duke!” + </p> + <p> + “And so are we, my fine rebel,” answered Trenchard, holding fast. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” the lout insisted. “I am going to enlist.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you shall when you have stabled our nags. See to him, Vallancey; + he is brainsick with the fumes of war.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow protested, but Trenchard's way was brisk and short; and so, + protesting still, he led away their cattle in the end, Vallancey going + with him to see that he performed this last duty as a stable-boy ere he + too became a champion militant of the Protestant Cause. Trenchard sped + after Wilding, who was elbowing his way through the yokels about the + steps. The glare of a newly lighted lamp from the doorway fell full upon + his long white face as he advanced, and Venner espied and recognized him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding!” he cried, and there was a glad ring in his voice, for + though cobblers, tailors, deserters from the militia, pot-boys, + stable-boys, and shuffling yokels had been coming in in numbers during the + past few hours since the Declaration had been read, this was the first + gentleman that arrived to welcome Monmouth. The soldier stretched out a + hand to grasp the newcomer's. “His Grace will see you this instant, not a + doubt of it.” He turned and called down the passage. “Cragg!” A young man + in a buff coat came forward, and to him Venner delivered Wilding and + Trenchard that he might announce them to His Grace. + </p> + <p> + In the room that had been set apart for him abovestairs, Monmouth still + sat at table. He had just supped, with but an indifferent appetite, so + fevered was he by the events of his landing. He was excited with hope—inspired + by the readiness with which the men of Lyme and its neighbourhood had + flocked to his banner—and fretted by anxiety that none of the gentry + of the vicinity should yet have followed the example of the meaner folk, + in answer to the messages dispatched at dawn from Seaton. The board at + which he sat was still cumbered with some glasses and platters and + vestiges of his repast. Below him on his right sat Ferguson—that + prince of plotters—very busy with pen and ink, his keen face almost + hidden by his great periwig; opposite were Lord Grey, of Werke, and Andrew + Fletcher, of Saltoun, whilst, standing at the foot of the table barely + within the circle of candlelight from the branch on the polished oak, was + Nathaniel Wade, the lawyer, who had fled to Holland on account of his + alleged complicity in the Rye House plot and was now returned a major in + the Duke's service. Erect and soldierly of figure, girt with a great sword + and with the butt of a pistol protruding from his belt, he had little the + air of a man whose methods of contention were forensic. + </p> + <p> + “You understand, then, Major Wade,” His Grace was saying, his voice + pleasant and musical. “It is decided that the guns had best be got ashore + forthwith and mounted.” + </p> + <p> + Wade bowed. “I shall set about it at once, Your Grace. I shall not want + for help. Have I Your Grace's leave to go?” + </p> + <p> + Monmouth nodded, and as Wade passed out, Ensign Cragg entered to announce + Mr. Wilding and Mr. Trenchard. The Duke rose to his feet, his glance + suddenly brightening. Fletcher and Grey rose with him; Ferguson paid no + heed, absorbed in his task, which he industriously continued. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” exclaimed the Duke. “Admit them, sir.” + </p> + <p> + When they entered, Wilding coming first, his hat under his arm, the Duke + sprang to meet him, a tall young figure, lithe and slender as a blade of + steel, and of a steely strength for all his slimness. He was dressed in a + suit of purple that became him marvellously well, and on his breast a star + of diamonds flashed and smouldered like a thing of fire. He was of an + exceeding beauty of face, wherein he mainly favoured that “bold, handsome + woman” that was his mother, without, however, any of his mother's + insipidity; fine eyes, a good nose, straight and slender, and a mouth + which, if sensual and indicating a lack of strength, was beautifully + shaped. His chin was slightly cleft, the shape of his face a delicate + oval, framed now in the waving masses of his brown wig. Some likeness to + his late Majesty was also discernible, in spite of the wart, out of which + his uncle James made so much capital. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight flush on his cheeks, an added lustre in his eye, as he + took Wilding's hand and shook it heartily before Wilding had time to kiss + His Grace's. + </p> + <p> + “You are late,” he said, but there was no reproach in his voice. “We had + looked to find you here when we came ashore. You had my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I had not, Your Grace,” answered Wilding, very grave. “It was stolen.” + </p> + <p> + “Stolen?” cried the Duke, and behind him Grey pressed forward, whilst even + Ferguson paused in his writing to raise his piercing eyes and listen. + </p> + <p> + “It is no matter,” Wilding reassured him. “Although stolen, it has but + gone to Whitehall to-day, when it can add little to the news that is + already on its way there.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke laughed softly, with a flash of white teeth, and looked past + Wilding at Trenchard. Some of the light faded out of his eyes. “They told + me Mr. Trenchard...” he began, when Wilding, half turning to his friend, + explained. + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Nicholas Trenchard—John Trenchard's cousin. + </p> + <p> + “I bid you welcome, sir,” said the Duke, very agreeably, “and I trust your + cousin follows you.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas,” said Trenchard, “my cousin is in France,” and in a few brief words + he related the matter of John Trenchard's home-coming on his acquittal and + the trouble there had been connected with it. + </p> + <p> + The Duke received the news in silence. He had expected good support from + old Speke's son-in-law. Indeed, there was a promise that when he came, + John Trenchard would bring fifteen hundred men from Taunton. He took a + turn in the room deep in thought, and there was a pause until Ferguson, + rubbing his great Roman nose, asked suddenly had Mr. Wilding seen the + Declaration. Mr. Wilding had not, and thereupon the plotting parson, who + was proud of his composition, would have read it to him there and then, + but that Grey sourly told him the matter would keep, and that they had + other things to discuss with Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + This the Duke himself confirmed, stating that there were matters on which + he would be glad to have their opinion. + </p> + <p> + He invited the newcomers to draw chairs to the table; glasses were called + for, and a couple of fresh bottles of Canary went round the board. The + talk was desultory for a few moments, whilst Wilding and Trenchard washed + the dust from their throats; then Monmouth broke the ice by asking them + bluntly what they thought of his coming thus, earlier than was at first + agreed. + </p> + <p> + Wilding never hesitated in his reply. “Frankly, Your Grace,” said he, “I + like it not at all.” + </p> + <p> + Fletcher looked up sharply, his clear intelligent eyes full upon Wilding's + calm face, his countenance expressing as little as did Wilding's. Ferguson + seemed slightly taken aback. Grey's thick lips were twisted in a sneering + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said the latter with elaborate sarcasm, “in that case it only + remains for us to ship again, heave anchor, and back to Holland.” + </p> + <p> + “It is what I should advise,” said Wilding slowly and quietly, “if I + thought there was a chance of my advice being taken.” He had a calm, + almost apathetic way of uttering startling things which rendered them + doubly startling. The sneer seemed to freeze on Lord Grey's lips; Fletcher + continued to stare, but his eyes had grown more round; Ferguson scowled + darkly. The Duke's boyish face—it was still very youthful despite + his six-and-thirty years—expressed a wondering consternation. He + looked at Wilding, and from Wilding to the others, and his glance seemed + to entreat them to suggest an answer to him. It was Grey at last who took + the matter up. + </p> + <p> + “You shall explain your meaning, sir, or we must hold you a traitor,” he + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “King James does that already,” answered Wilding with a quiet smile. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye mean the Duke of York?” rumbled Ferguson's Scottish accent with + startling suddenness, and Monmouth nodded approval of the correction. “If + ye mean that bloody papist and fratricide, it were well so to speak of + him. Had ye read the Declaration...” + </p> + <p> + But Fletcher cropped his speech in mid-growth. He was ever a + short-tempered man, intolerant of irrelevancies. + </p> + <p> + “It were well, perhaps,” said he, his accent abundantly proclaiming him a + fellow countryman of Ferguson's, “to keep to the matter before us. Mr. + Wilding, no doubt, will state the reasons that exist, or that he fancies + may exist, for giving advice which is hardly worthy of the cause to which + he stands committed.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Fletcher,” said Monmouth, “there is sense in you. Tell us what is in + your mind, Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in my mind, Your Grace, that this invasion is rash, premature, and + ill-advised.” + </p> + <p> + “Odds life!” cried Grey, and he swung angrily round fully to face the + Duke, the nostrils of his heavy nose dilating. “Are we to listen to this + milksop prattle?” + </p> + <p> + Nick Trenchard, who had hitherto been silent, cleared his throat so + noisily that he drew all eyes to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace,” Mr. Wilding pursued, his air calm and dignified, and + gathering more dignity from the circumstance that he proceeded as if there + had been no interruption, “when I had the honour of conferring with you at + The Hague two months ago, it was agreed that you should spend the summer + in Sweden—away from politics and scheming, leaving the work of + preparation to your accredited agents here. That work I have been slowly + but surely pushing forward. It was not to be hurried; men of position are + not to be won over in a day; men with anything to lose need some guarantee + that they are not wantonly casting their possessions to the winds. By next + spring, as was agreed, all would have been ready. Delay could not have + hurt you. Indeed, with every day by which you delayed your coming you did + good service to your cause, you strengthened its prospects of success; for + every day the people's burden of oppression and persecution grows more + heavy, and the people's temper more short; every day, by the methods that + he is pursuing, King James brings himself into deeper hatred. This hatred + is spreading. It was the business of myself and those others to help it + on, until from the cottage of the ploughman the infection of anger should + have spread to the mansion of the squire. Had Your Grace but given me + time, as I entreated you, and as you promised me, you might have marched + to Whitehall with scarce the shedding of a drop of blood; had Your Grace + but waited until we were ready, England would have so trembled at your + landing that your uncle's throne would have toppled over 'neath the shock. + As it is...” He shrugged his shoulders, sighed and spread his hands, + leaving his sentence uncompleted. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth sat sobered by these sober words; the intoxication that had come + to him from the little measure of success that had attended the opening of + the listing on Church Cliffs, deserted him now; he saw the thing stark and + in its true proportions, and not even the shouting of the folk in the + streets below, crying his name and acclaiming him their champion, served + to lighten the gloom that Wilding's words cast like a cloud over his + volatile heart. Alas, poor Monmouth! He was ever a weathercock, and even + as Wilding's words seemed to strike the courage out of him, so did Grey's + short contemptuous answer restore it. + </p> + <p> + “As it is, we'll thrust that throne over with our hands,” said he after a + moment's pause. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” cried Monmouth. “We'll do it, God helping us!” + </p> + <p> + “Our dependence and trust is in the Lord of Hosts, in Whose Name we go + forth,” boomed the voice of Ferguson, quoting from his precious + Declaration. “The Lord will do that which seemeth good unto Him.” + </p> + <p> + “An unanswerable argument,” said Wilding, smiling. “But the Lord, I am + told by the gentlemen of your cloth, works in His own good time, and my + fears are all lest, finding us unprepared of ourselves, the Lord's good + time be not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Out on ye, sir,” cried Ferguson. “Ye want for reverence!” + </p> + <p> + “Common sense will serve us better at the moment,” answered Wilding with a + touch of sharpness. He turned to the frowning and perplexed Duke—whose + mind was being tossed this way and that, like a shuttlecock upon the + battledore of these men's words. “Your Grace,” he said, “forgive me that I + speak it if hear it you will, or forbid me to say it if your resolve is + unalterable in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unalterable,” answered Grey for the Duke. + </p> + <p> + But Monmouth gently overruled him for once. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, speak by all means, Mr. Wilding. Whatever you may say, you + need have no fear that any of us can doubt your good intentions to + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank Your Grace. What I have to say is but a repetition of the first + words I uttered at this table. I would urge Your Grace even now to + retreat.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Are you mad?” It was Lord Grey who asked the impatient question. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it's over-late for that,” said Fletcher slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure,” answered Wilding. “But I am sure that to attempt it + were the safer course—the surer in the end. I myself may not linger + to push forward the task of stirring up the people, for I am already + something more than under suspicion. But there are others who will remain + to carry on the work after I have departed with Your Grace, if Your Grace + thinks well. From the Continent by correspondence we can mature our plans. + In a twelvemonth things will be very different, and we can return with + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Grey shrugged and turned his shoulder upon Wilding, but said no word. + There was silence of some few moments. Andrew Fletcher leaned his elbow on + the table and took his brow in his great bony hand. Wilding's words seemed + an echo of those he himself had spoken a week or two ago, only to be + overruled by Grey, who swayed the Duke more than did any other—and + that he did not do so of fell purpose, and seeking deliberately to work + Monmouth's ruin, no man will ever be able to say with certainty. + </p> + <p> + Ferguson rose, a tall, spare, stooping figure, and smote the board with + his fist. “It is a good cause,” he cried, “and God will not leave us + unless we leave Him.” + </p> + <p> + “Henry the Seventh landed with fewer men than did Your Grace,” said Grey, + “and he succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” put in Fletcher. “But Henry the Seventh was sure of the support of + not a few of the nobility, which does not seem to be our case.” + </p> + <p> + Ferguson and Grey stared at him in horror; Monmouth sat biting his lip, + more bewildered than thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “O man of little faith!” roared Ferguson in a passion. “Are ye to be + swayed like a straw in the wind?” + </p> + <p> + “I am no' swayed. Ye ken this was ever my own view. I feel, in my heart, + that what Mr. Wilding says is right. It is but what I said myself, and + Captain Matthews with me, before we embarked upon this expedition. We were + in danger of ruining all by a needless precipitancy. Nay, man, never stare + so,” he said to Grey, “I am in it now and I am no' the man to draw back, + nor do I go so far as Mr. Wilding in counselling such a course. We've set + our hands to the plough; let us go forward in God's name. Yet I would + remind you that what Mr. Wilding says is true. Had we waited until next + year, we had found the usurper's throne tottering under him, and, on our + landing, it would have toppled o'er of itself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have said already that we'll overset it with our hands,” Grey answered. + </p> + <p> + “How many hands have you?” asked a new voice, a crisp, discordant voice, + much steeped in mockery. It was Nick Trenchard's. + </p> + <p> + “Have we another here of Mr. Wilding's mind?” cried Grey, staring at him. + </p> + <p> + “I am seldom of any other,” answered Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “We shall no' want for hands,” Ferguson assured him. “Had ye arrived + earlier ye might have seen how readily men enlisted.” He had risen and + approached the window as he spoke; he pulled it open, to let in the full + volume of sound that rose from the street below. + </p> + <p> + “A Monmouth! A Monmouth!” voices shouted. + </p> + <p> + Ferguson struck a theatrical posture, one long, lean arm stretched outward + from the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Ye hear them, sirs,” he cried, and there was a gleam of triumph in his + eye. “That is answer enough to those who want for faith, to the feckless + ones that think the Lord will abandon those that have set out to serve + Him,” and his glance comprehended Fletcher, Trenchard, and Wilding. + </p> + <p> + The Duke stirred in his chair, stretched a hand for the bottle and filled + a glass. His mercurial spirits were rising again. He smiled at Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are answered, sir,” said he; “and I hope that like Fletcher + there, who shared your doubts, you will come to agree that since we have + set our hands to the plough we must go forward.” + </p> + <p> + “I have said that which I had it on my conscience to say. Your Grace may + have found me over-ready with my counsel; at least you shall find me no + less ready with my sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Odso! That is better.” Grey applauded, and his manner was almost + pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “I never doubted it, Mr. Wilding,” His Grace replied; “but I should like + to hear you say that you are convinced—at least in part,” and he + waved his hand towards the window. It was almost as if he pleaded for + encouragement. In common with most men who came in contact with Wilding, + he had felt the latent force of this man's nature, the strength that was + hidden under that calm surface, and the acuteness of the judgment that + must be wedded to it. He longed to have the word of such a man that his + enterprise was not as desperate as Wilding had seemed at first to paint + it. But Wilding made no concession to hopes or desires when he dealt with + facts. + </p> + <p> + “Men will flock to you, no doubt; persecution has wearied many of the + country-folk, and they are ready for revolt. But they are all untrained in + arms; they are rustics, not soldiers. If any of the men of position were + to rally round your standard they would bring the militia, and others in + their train; they would bring arms, horses, and money, all of which Your + Grace must be sorely needing.” + </p> + <p> + “They will come,” answered the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Some, no doubt,” Wilding agreed; “but had it been next year, I would have + answered for it that it would have been no handful had ridden in to + welcome you. Scarce a gentleman of Devon or Somerset, of Dorset or + Hampshire, of Wiltshire or Cheshire but would have hastened to your side.” + </p> + <p> + “They will come as it is,” the Duke repeated with an almost womanish + insistence, persisting in believing what he hoped, all evidence apart. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Ensign Cragg made his appearance. “May it please Your + Grace,” he announced, “Mr. Battiscomb has just arrived, and asks will Your + Grace receive him to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Battiscomb!” cried the Duke. Again his cheek flushed and his eye + sparkled. “Aye, in Heaven's name, show him up.” + </p> + <p> + “And may the Lord refresh us with good tidings!” prayed Ferguson devoutly. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth turned to Wilding. “It is the agent I sent ahead of me from + Holland to stir up the gentry from here to the Mersey.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Wilding; “we conferred together some weeks since.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you shall see how idle are your fears,” the Duke promised him. + </p> + <p> + And Wilding, who was better informed on that score, kept silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. HIS GRACE' IN COUNSEL + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Christopher Battiscomb, that mild-mannered Dorchester gentleman, who, + like Wade, was by vocation a lawyer, was ushered into the Duke's presence. + He was dressed in black, and, like Ferguson, was almost smothered in a + great periwig, which he may have adopted for purposes of disguise rather + than adornment. Certainly he had none of that air of the soldier of + fortune which distinguished his brother of the robe. He advanced, hat in + hand, towards the table, greeting the company about it, and Wilding + observed that he wore silk stockings and shoes, upon which there rested + not a speck of dust. Mr. Battiscomb was plainly a man who loved his ease, + since on such a day he had travelled to Lyme in a coach. The lawyer bent + low to kiss the Duke's hand, and scarce was that formal homage paid than + questions poured upon him from Grey, from Fletcher, and from Ferguson. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” the Duke entreated them, smiling; and remembering + their manners they fell silent. + </p> + <p> + As Wilding afterwards told Trenchard, they reminded him of a parcel of + saucy lacqueys who take liberties with an upstart master for whom they are + wanting in respect. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you, Battiscomb,” said Monmouth, when quiet was + restored, “and I trust I behold in you a bearer of good tidings.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer's full face was usually pale; to-night it was, in addition, + solemn, and the smile that haunted his lips was a courtesy smile that + expressed neither mirth nor satisfaction. He cleared his throat, as if + nervous. He avoided the Duke's question as to the quality of the news he + brought by answering that he had made all haste to come to Lyme upon + hearing of His Grace's landing. He was surprised, he said; as well he + might be, for the arrangement was that having done his work he was to + return to Holland and report to Monmouth upon the feeling of the gentry. + </p> + <p> + “But your news, Battiscomb,” the Duke insisted. “Aye,” put in Grey; “in + Heaven's name, let us hear that.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was the little nervous cough from Battiscomb. “I have scarce + had time to complete my round of visits,” he temporized. “Your Grace has + taken us so by surprise. I... I was with Sir Walter Young at Colyton when + the news of your landing came some few hours ago.” His voice faltered and + seemed to die away. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried the Duke. His brows were drawn together. Already he realized + that Battiscomb's tidings were not good, else would he be hesitating less + in uttering them. “Is Sir Walter with you, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “I grieve to say that he is not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not?” It was Grey who spoke, and he followed the ejaculation by an oath. + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He is following, no doubt?” suggested Fletcher. + </p> + <p> + “We may hope, sirs,” answered Battiscomb, “that in a few days—when + he shall have seen the zeal of the countryside—he will be cured of + his present luke-warmness.” Thus, discreetly, did the man of law break the + bad news he bore. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth sank back into his chair like one who has lost some of his + strength. “Lukewarmness?” he repeated dully. “Sir Walter Young lukewarm!” + </p> + <p> + “Even so, Your Grace—alas!” and Battiscomb sighed audibly. + </p> + <p> + Ferguson's voice boomed forth again to startle them. “The ox knoweth his + owner,” he cried, “the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not know, my + people doth not consider.” + </p> + <p> + Grey pushed the bottle contemptuously across the table to the parson. + “Drink, man, and get sense, said he, and turned aside to question + Battiscomb touching others of the neighbourhood upon whom they had + depended. + </p> + <p> + “What of Sir Francis Rolles?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb answered the question, addressing himself to the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Sir Francis, no doubt, would have been faithful to Your Grace, but, + unfortunately, Sir Francis is in prison already.” + </p> + <p> + Deeper grew Monmouth's frown; his fingers drummed the table absently. + Fletcher poured himself wine, his face inscrutable. Grey threw one leg + over the other and in a voice that was carefully careless he inquired, + “And what of Sidney Clifford?” + </p> + <p> + “He is considering,” said Battiscomb. “I was to have seen him again at the + end of the month; meanwhile, he would take no resolve.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Gervase Scoresby?” questioned Grey, less carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb half turned to him, then faced the Duke again as he made + answer, “Mr. Wilding there, can tell you more concerning Lord Gervase.” + </p> + <p> + All eyes swept round to Wilding who sat in silence, listening; Monmouth's + were laden with inquiry and some anxiety. Wilding shook his head slowly, + sadly. “You must not depend upon him,” he answered; “Lord Gervase was not + yet ripe. A little longer and I think I must have won him for Your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help us!” exclaimed the Duke in petulant vexation. “Is no one + coming in?” + </p> + <p> + Ferguson swung a hand towards the still open window, drawing attention to + the sounds without. + </p> + <p> + “Does Your Grace not hear, that ye can ask?” he cried, almost + reproachfully; but they scarce heeded him, for Grey was inquiring if Mr. + Strode might be depended upon to join, and that was a matter that claimed + the greater attention. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Battiscomb, “that he might have been depended upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Might have been?” questioned Fletcher, speaking now for the first time + since Battiscomb's arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Like Sir Francis Rolles, he is in prison,” the lawyer explained. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth leaned forward, and his young face looked careworn now; he thrust + a slender hand under the brown curls upon his brow. “Will you tell us, Mr. + Battiscomb, upon what friends you think that we may count?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb pursed his lips a second, pondering. “I think,” said he, “that + you may count upon Mr. Legge and Mr. Hooper, and possibly upon Colonel + Churchill, though I cannot say what following they will bring, if any. Mr. + Trenchard, upon whom we counted for fifteen hundred men of Taunton, has + been obliged to fly the country to escape arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “We have heard that from Mr. Trenchard's cousin,” answered the Duke. “What + of Prideaux, of Ford? Is he lukewarm?” + </p> + <p> + “I was unable to elicit a definite promise from him. But he was favourably + disposed to Your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + His Grace made a gesture that seemed to dismiss Prideaux from their + calculations. “And Mr. Hucker, of Taunton?” + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb's manner grew yet more ill at ease. “Mr. Hucker himself, I am + sure, would place his sword at your disposal. But his brother is a red-hot + Tory.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” sighed the Duke, “I take it we must not make certain of Mr. + Hucker. Are there any others besides Legge and Hooper upon whom you think + that we may reckon?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Wiltshire, perhaps,” said Battiscomb, but with a lack of assurance. + </p> + <p> + “A plague on perhaps!” exclaimed Monmouth, growing irritable; “I want you + to name the men of whom you are certain.” + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb stood silent for a moment, pondering. He looked almost foolish, + like a schoolboy who hesitates to confess his ignorance of the answer to a + question set him. + </p> + <p> + Fletcher swung round, his grey eyes flashing angrily, his accent more + Scottish than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Is it that ye're certain o' none, Mr. Battiscomb?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Battiscomb, “I think we may be fairly certain of Mr. Legge + and Mr. Hooper.” + </p> + <p> + “And of none besides?” questioned Fletcher again. “Be these the only + representatives of the flower of England's nobility that is to flock to + the banner of the cause of England's freedom and religion?” Scorn was + stamped on every word of his question. + </p> + <p> + Battiscomb spread his hands, raised his brows, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “The Lord knows I do not say it exulting,” said Fletcher; “but I told Your + Grace yours was hardly the case of Henry the Seventh, as my Lord Grey + would have you believe.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” snapped Grey, scowling at the Scot. “The people are coming + in hundreds—aye, in thousands—the gentry will follow; they + must.” + </p> + <p> + “Make not too sure, Your Grace—oh, make not too sure,” Wilding + besought the Duke. “As I have said, these hinds have nothing to lose but + their lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, can a man lose more?” asked Grey contemptuously. He disliked + Wilding by instinct, which was but a reciprocation of the feeling with + which Wilding was inspired by him. + </p> + <p> + “I think he can,” said Mr. Wilding quietly. “A man may lose honour, he may + plunge his family into ruin. These are things of more weight with a + gentleman than life.” + </p> + <p> + “Odds death!” blazed Grey, giving a free rein to his dislike of this calm + gentleman. “Do you suggest that a man's honour is imperilled in His + Grace's service?” + </p> + <p> + “I suggest nothing,” answered Wilding, unmoved. “What I think, I state. If + I thought a man's honour imperilled in this service, you would not see me + at this table now. I can make you no more convincing answer.” + </p> + <p> + Grey laughed unpleasantly, and Wilding, a faint tinge on his cheek-bones, + measured him with a stern, intrepid look before which his lordship's + shifty glance was observed to fall. Wilding's eye, having achieved that + much, passed from him to the Duke, and its expression softened. + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace sees,” said he, “how well founded were the fears I expressed + that your coming has been premature.” + </p> + <p> + “In God's name, what would you have me do?” cried the Duke, and petulance + made his voice unsteady. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding rose, moved out of his habitual calm by the earnestness that + pervaded him. “It is not for me to say again what I would have Your Grace + do. Your Grace has heard my views, and those of these gentlemen. It is for + Your Grace to decide.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean whether I will go forward with this thing? What alternative have + I?” + </p> + <p> + “No alternative,” put in Grey with finality. “Nor is alternative needed. + We'll carry this through in spite of timorous folk and birds of ill-omen + that croak to affright us.” + </p> + <p> + “Our service is the service of the Lord,” cried Ferguson, returning from + the window in the embrasure of which he had been standing; “the Lord + cannot but destine it to prevail.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye said so before,” quoth Fletcher testily. “We need here men, money, and + weapons—not divinity.” + </p> + <p> + “You are plainly infected with Mr. Wilding's disease,” sneered Grey. + </p> + <p> + “Ford,” cried the Duke, who saw Wilding's eyes flash fire; “you go too + fast. Mr. Wilding, you will not heed his lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not be likely to do so, Your Grace,” answered Wilding, who had + resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “What shall that mean?” quoth Grey, leaping to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Make it quite clear to him, Tony,” whispered Trenchard coaxingly; but Mr. + Wilding was not as lost as were these immediate followers of the Duke's to + all sense of the respect due to His Grace. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Wilding quietly, “that you have forgotten something.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten what?” bawled Grey. + </p> + <p> + “His Grace's presence.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship turned crimson, his anger swelled to think that the very + terms of the rebuke precluded his allowing his feelings a free rein. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth leaned forward. “Sit down,” he said to Grey, and Grey, so lately + called to the respect he owed His Grace, obeyed him. “You will both + promise me that this affair shall go no further. I know you will do it if + I ask you, particularly when you remember how few are the followers upon + whom I may depend. I am not in case to lose either of you through foolish + words uttered in a heat which, in both your hearts, is born, I know, of + your loyalty to me.” + </p> + <p> + Grey's coarse, elderly face took on a sulky look, his heavy lips were + pouted, his glance sullen. Mr. Wilding, on the contrary, smiled across the + table. + </p> + <p> + “For my part I very gladly give Your Grace the undertaking,” said he, and + took care not to observe the sneer that altered the line of Lord Grey's + lips. His lordship, too, was forced to give the same pledge, and he + followed it up by inveighing sturdily against the suggestion that they + should retreat. + </p> + <p> + “I do protest,” he exclaimed, “that those who advise Your Grace to do + anything but go forward boldly now, are evil counsellors. If you put back + to Holland, you may leave every hope behind. There will be no second + coming for you. Your influence will have been dissipated. Men will not + trust you another time. I do not think that even Mr. Wilding can deny the + truth of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I am by no means sure,” said Wilding, and Fletcher looked at him with + eyes that were full of understanding. This sturdy Scot, the only soldier + worthy of the name in the Duke's following, who, ever since the project + had first been mooted, had held out against it, counselling delay, was in + sympathy with Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth rose, his face anxious, his voice fretful. “There can be no + retreat for me, gentlemen. Though many that we depended upon are not here + to join us, yet let us remember that Heaven is on our side, and that we + are come to fight in the sacred cause of religion and a nation's + emancipation from the thraldom of popery, oppression, and superstition. + Let this dispel such doubts as yet may linger in our minds.” + </p> + <p> + His words had a brave sound, but, when analysed, they but formed a + paraphrase of what Grey and Ferguson had said. It was his destiny to be a + mere echo of the minds of other men, just as he was now the tool of these + two, one of whom plotted, seemingly, because plotting was a disease that + had got into his blood; the other for reasons that may have been of + ambition or of revenge—no man will ever know for certain. + </p> + <p> + In the chamber they shared, Trenchard and Mr. Wilding reviewed that night + the scene so lately enacted, in which one had taken an active part, the + other been little more than a spectator. Trenchard had come from the + Duke's presence entirely out of conceit with Monmouth and his cause, + contemptuous of Ferguson, angry with Grey, and indifferent towards + Fletcher. + </p> + <p> + “I am committed, and I'll not draw back,” said he; “but I tell you, + Anthony, my heart is not confederate with my hand in this. Bah!” he + railed. “We serve a man of straw, a Perkin, a very pope of a fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding sighed. “He's scarce the man for such an undertaking,” said + he. “I fear we have been misled.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard was drawing off his boots. He paused in the act. “Aye,” said he, + “misled by our blindness. What else, after all, should we have expected of + him?” he cried contemptuously. “The Cause is good; but its leader—-Pshaw! + Would you have such a puppet as that on the throne of England?” + </p> + <p> + “He does not aim so high.” + </p> + <p> + “Be not so sure. We shall hear more of the black box anon, and of the + marriage certificate it contains. 'Twould not surprise me if they were to + produce forgeries of the one and the other to prove his father's marriage + to Lucy Walters. Anthony, Anthony! To what a business are we wedded?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding, already abed, turned impatiently. “Things cried aloud to be + redressed; a leader was necessary, and none other offered. That is the + whole story. But our chance is slender, and it might have been great.” + </p> + <p> + “That rake-hell, Ford, Lord Grey has made it so,” grumbled Trenchard, busy + with his stockings. “This sudden coming is his work. You heard what + Fletcher said—how he opposed it when first it was urged.” He paused, + and looked up suddenly. “Blister me!” he cried, “is it his lordship's + purpose, think you, to work the ruin of Monmouth?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, Nick?” + </p> + <p> + “There are certain rumours current touching His Grace and Lady Grey. A man + like Grey might well resort to some such scheme of vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “Get to sleep, Nick,” said Wilding, yawning; “you are dreaming already. + Such a plan would be over elaborate for his lordship's mind. It would ask + a villainy parallel with your own.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard climbed into bed, and settled himself under the coverlet. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” said he, “and maybe not; but I think that were it not for that + cursed business of the letter Richard Westmacott stole from us, I should + be going my ways to-morrow and leaving His Grace of Monmouth to go his.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, and I'd go with you,” answered Wilding. “I've little taste for + suicide; but we are in it now.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas a sad pity you meddled this morning in that affair at Taunton,” + mused Trenchard wistfully. “A sadder pity you were bitten with a taste for + matrimony,” he added thoughtfully, and blew out the rushlight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. LYME OF THE KING + </h2> + <p> + On the next day, which was Friday, the country folk continued to come in, + and by evening Monmouth's forces amounted to a thousand foot and a hundred + and fifty horse. The men were armed as fast as they were enrolled, and + scarce a field or quiet avenue in the district but resounded to the tramp + of feet, the rattle of weapons, and the sharp orders of the officers who, + by drilling, were converting this raw material into soldiers. On the + Saturday the rally of the Duke's standard was such that Monmouth threw off + at last the gloomy forebodings that had burdened his soul since that + meeting on Thursday night. Wade, Holmes, Foulkes, and Fox were able to set + about forming the first four regiments—the Duke's, and the Green, + the White, and the Yellow. Monmouth's spirits continued to rise, for he + had been joined by now by Legge and Hooper—the two upon whom + Battiscomb had counted—and by Colonel Joshua Churchill, of whom + Battiscomb had been less certain. Captain Matthews brought news that Lord + Wiltshire and the gentlemen of Hampshire might be expected if they could + force their way through Albemarle's militia, which was already closing + round Lyme. + </p> + <p> + Long before evening willing fellows were being turned away in hundreds for + lack of weapons. In spite of Monmouth's big talk on landing, and of the + rumour that had gone out, that he could arm thirty thousand men, his stock + of arms was exhausted by a mere fifteen hundred. Trenchard, who now held a + Major's rank in the horse attached to the Duke's own regiment, was loud in + his scorn of this state of things; Mr. Wilding was sad, and his depression + again spread to the Duke after a few words had passed between them towards + evening. Fletcher was for heroic measures. He looked only ahead now, like + the good soldier that he was; and, already, he began to suggest a bold + dash for Exeter, for weapons, horses, and possibly the militia as well, + for they had ample evidence that the men composing it might easily be + induced to desert to the Duke's side. + </p> + <p> + The suggestion was one that instantly received Mr. Wilding's heartiest + approval. It seemed to fill him suddenly with hope, and he spoke of it, + indeed, as an inspiration which, if acted upon, might yet save the + situation. The Duke was undecided as ever; he was too much troubled + weighing the chances for and against, and he would decide upon nothing + until he had consulted Grey and the others. He would summon a council that + night, he promised, and the matter should be considered. + </p> + <p> + But that council was never to be called, for Andrew Fletcher's association + with the rebellion was drawing rapidly to its close, and there was that to + happen in the next few hours which should counteract all the encouragement + with which the Duke had been fortified that day. Towards evening little + Heywood Dare, the Taunton goldsmith, who had landed at Seatown and gone + out with the news of the Duke's arrival, rode into Lyme with forty horse, + mounted, himself, upon a beautiful charger which was destined to be the + undoing of him. + </p> + <p> + News came, too, that the Dorset militia were at Bridport, eight miles + away, whereupon Wilding and Fletcher postponed all further suggestion of + the dash for Exeter, proposing that in the mean time a night attack upon + Bridport might result well. For once Lord Grey was in agreement with them, + and so the matter was decided. Fletcher went down to arm and mount, and + all the world knows the story of the foolish, ill-fated quarrel which + robbed Monmouth of two of his most valued adherents. By ill-luck the + Scot's eyes lighted upon the fine horse that Dare had brought from Ford + Abbey. It occurred to him that nothing could be more fitting than that the + best man should sit upon the best horse, and he forthwith led the beast + from the stables and was about to mount when Dare came forth to catch him + in the very act. The goldsmith was a rude, peppery fellow, who did not + mince his words. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague are you doing with that horse?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Fletcher paused, one foot in the stirrup, and looked the fellow up and + down. “I am mounting it,” said he, and proceeded to do as he said. + </p> + <p> + But Dare caught him by the tails of his coat and brought him back to + earth. + </p> + <p> + “You are making a mistake, Mr. Fletcher,” he cried angrily. “That horse is + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Fletcher, whose temper was by no means of the most peaceful, kept himself + with difficulty in hand at the indignity Dare offered him. + </p> + <p> + “Yours?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, mine. I brought it from Ford Abbey myself.” + </p> + <p> + “For the Duke's service,” Fletcher reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “For my own, sir; for my own I would have you know.” And brushing the Scot + aside, he caught the bridle, and sought to wrench it from Fletcher's hand. + </p> + <p> + But Fletcher maintained his hold. “Softly, Mr. Dare,” said he. “Ye're a + trifle o'er true to your name, as you once told his late Majesty + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your hands from my horse,” Dare shouted, very angry. + </p> + <p> + Several loiterers in the yard gathered round to watch the scene, culling + diversion from it and speculating upon the conclusion it might have. One + rash young fellow offered audibly to lay ten to one that Paymaster Dare + would have the best of the argument. + </p> + <p> + Dare overheard, and was spurred on. + </p> + <p> + “I will, by God!” he answered. “Come, Mr. Fletcher!” And he shook the + bridle again. + </p> + <p> + There was a dull flush showing through the tan of Fletcher's skin. “Mr. + Dare,” said he, “this horse is no more yours than mine. It is the Duke's, + and I, as one o' the leaders, claim it in the Duke's service.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, sir,” cried an onlooker, encouraging Fletcher, and did the mischief. + It so goaded Dare to have his antagonist in this trifling matter supported + that he utterly lost his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have said the horse is mine, and I repeat it. Let go the bridle—let + it go!” Still, Fletcher, striving hard to keep his calm, clung to the + reins. “Let it go, you damned, thieving Scot!” screamed Dare in a fury, + and struck Fletcher with his whip. + </p> + <p> + It was unfortunate for them both that he should have had that switch in + his hand at such a time, but more unfortunate still was it that Fletcher + should have had a pistol in his belt. The Scot dropped the bridle at last; + dropped it to pluck forth the weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! I did not...” began Dare, who had stood appalled by what he had done + in the second or two that had passed since he had delivered the blow. The + rest of his sentence was drowned in the report of Fletcher's pistol, and + Dare dropped dead on the rough cobbles of the yard. + </p> + <p> + Ferguson has left it on record—and, presumably, he had Fletcher's + word for it—that it was no part of the Scot's intent to do Mr. Dare + a mischief. He had but drawn the pistol to intimidate him into better + manners, but in his haste he accidentally pulled the trigger. + </p> + <p> + However that may be, there was Dare as dead as the stones on which he lay, + and Fletcher with a smoking pistol in his hand. + </p> + <p> + After that all was confusion. Fletcher was seized by those who had + witnessed the deed; there was none thought it an accident; indeed, they + were all ready enough to say that Fletcher had received excessive + provocation. He was haled to the presence of the Duke with whom were Grey + and Wilding at the time; and old Dare's son—an ensign in + Goodenough's company—came clamouring for vengeance backed by such + goodly numbers that the distraught Duke was forced to show at least the + outward seeming of it. + </p> + <p> + Wilding, who knew the value of this Scottish soldier of fortune who had + seen so much service, strenuously urged his enlargement. It was not a time + to let the fortunes of a cause suffer through such an act as this, + deplorable though it might be. The evidence showed that Fletcher had been + provoked; he had been struck, a thing that might well justify the anger in + the heat of which he had done this thing. Grey was stolid and silent, + saying nothing either for or against the man who had divided with him + under the Duke the honours of the supreme command. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth, white and horror-stricken, sat and listened first to Wilding, + then to Dare, and lastly to Fletcher himself. But it was young Dare—Dare + and his followers, who prevailed. They were too numerous and turbulent, + and they must at all costs be conciliated, or there was no telling to what + extremes they might not go. And so there was an end to the share of Andrew + Fletcher of Saltoun in this undertaking—the end of the only man who + was of any capacity to pilot it through the troubled waters that lay + before it. Monmouth placed him under arrest and sent him aboard the + frigate again, ordering her captain to sail at once. That was the utmost + Monmouth could do to save him. + </p> + <p> + Wilding continued to plead with the Duke after Fletcher's removal, and to + such good purpose that at last Monmouth determined that Fletcher should + rejoin them later, when the affair should have blown over, and he sent + word accordingly to the Scot. Even in this there were manifestations of + antagonism between Mr. Wilding and Lord Grey, and it almost seemed enough + that Wilding should suggest a course for Lord Grey instantly to oppose it. + </p> + <p> + The effects of Fletcher's removal were not long in following. On the + morrow came the Bridport affair, and Grey's shameful conduct when, had he + stood his ground, victory must have been assured the Duke's forces instead + of just that honourable retreat by which Colonel Wade so gallantly saved + the situation. Mr. Wilding did not mince his words in putting it that Grey + had run away. + </p> + <p> + In his room at the George Inn, Monmouth, deeply distressed, asked Wilding + and Colonel Matthews what action he should take in the matter—how + deal with Grey. + </p> + <p> + “There is no other general in Europe would ask that, Your Grace,” answered + Matthews gravely, and Mr. Wilding added without an instant's hesitation + that His Grace's course was plain. + </p> + <p> + “It would be an unwise thing to expose the troops to the chance of more + such happenings.” + </p> + <p> + Monmouth dismissed them and sent for Grey, and he seemed resolved to deal + with him as he deserved. Yet an hour later, when Wilding, Matthews, Wade, + and the others were ordered to attend the Duke in council, there was his + lordship seemingly on as good terms as ever with His Grace. + </p> + <p> + They were assembled to discuss the next step which it might be advisable + to take, for the militia was closing in around them, and to remain longer + in Lyme would be to be caught there as in a trap. It was Grey who advanced + the first suggestion, his assurance no whit abated by the shameful thing + that had befallen, by the cowardice which he had betrayed. + </p> + <p> + “That we must quit Lyme we are all agreed,” said he. “I would propose that + Your Grace march north to Gloucester, where our Cheshire friends will + assemble to meet us.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Matthews reminded the Duke of Andrew Fletcher's proposal that they + should make a raid upon Exeter with a view to seizing arms, of which they + stood so sorely in need. + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Wilding was quick to support. “Not only that, Your Grace,” he + said, “but I am confident that with very little inducement the greater + portion of the militia will desert to us as soon as we appear. + </p> + <p> + “What assurance can you give of that?” asked Grey, his heavy lip + protruded. + </p> + <p> + “I take it,” said Mr. Wilding, “that in such matters no man can give an + assurance of anything. I speak with knowledge of the country and the folk + from which the militia is enlisted. I offer it as my opinion that the + militia is favourably disposed to Your Grace. I can do no more. + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Wilding says so, Your Grace,” put in Matthews, “I have no doubt he + has sound reasons upon which to base his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Monmouth. “Indeed, I had already thought of the step that + you suggest, Colonel Matthews, and what Mr. Wilding says causes me to look + upon it still more favourably.” + </p> + <p> + Grey frowned. “Consider, Your Grace,” he said earnestly, “that you are in + no case to fight at present.” + </p> + <p> + “What fighting do you suggest there would be?” asked the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “There is Albemarle between us and Exeter.” + </p> + <p> + “But with the militia,” Wilding reminded him; “and if the militia deserts + him for Your Grace, in what case will Albemarle find himself?” + </p> + <p> + “And if the militia does not desert? If you should be proven wrong, sir? + What then? What then?” asked Grey. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—true—what then, Mr. Wilding?” quoth the Duke, already + wavering. + </p> + <p> + Wilding considered a moment, all eyes upon him. “Even then,” said he + presently, “I do maintain that in this dash for Exeter lies Your Grace's + greatest chance of success. We can deliver battle if need be. Already we + are three thousand strong...” + </p> + <p> + Grey interrupted him rudely. “Nay,” he insisted. “You must not presume + upon that. We are not yet fit to fight. It is His Grace's business at + present to drill and discipline his troops and induce more friends to join + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Already we are turning men away because we have no weapons to put into + their hands,” Wilding reminded them, and a murmur of approval ran round, + which but served to anger Grey the more, to render more obstinate his + opposition. + </p> + <p> + “But all that come in are not unprovided,” was his lordship's retort. + “There are the Hampshire gentry and their friends. They will come armed, + and so will others if we have patience. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Wilding, “and if you have patience enough there will be troops + the Parliament will send against us. They, too, will be armed, I can + assure your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “In God's name let us keep from wrangling,” the Duke besought them. “It is + difficult enough to determine for the best. If the dash to Exeter were + successful...” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be,” Grey interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + The liberties he took with Monmouth and which Monmouth permitted him might + well be a source of wonder to all who heard them. Monmouth paused now in + his interrupted speech and looked about him a trifle wearily. + </p> + <p> + “It seems idle to insist,” said Mr. Wilding; “such is the temper of Your + Grace's counsellors, that we get no further than contradictions.” Grey's + bold eyes were upon Wilding as he spoke. “I would remind Your Grace, and I + am sure that many present will agree with me, that in a desperate + enterprise a sudden unexpected movement will often strike terror.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Monmouth, but apparently without enthusiasm, and + having approved what was urged on one side, he looked at Grey, as if + waiting to hear what might be said on the other. His indecision was + pitiful—tragical, indeed, in the leader of so bold an enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “We should do better, I think,” said Grey, “to deal with the facts as we + know them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is what I am endeavouring to do, Your Grace,” protested Wilding, a + note of despair in his voice. “Perhaps some other gentleman will put + forward better counsel than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! In Heaven's name let us hope so,” snorted Grey; and Monmouth, + catching the sudden flash of Mr. Wilding's eye, set a hand upon his + lordship's arm as if to urge him to be gentler. But he continued, “When + men talk of striking terror by sudden movements they build on air.” + </p> + <p> + “I had hardly thought to hear that from your lordship,” said Mr. Wilding, + and he permitted himself that tight-lipped smile that gave his face so + wicked a look. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” asked Grey, stupidly unsuspicious. + </p> + <p> + “Because I had thought you might have concluded otherwise from your own + experience at Bridport this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Grey got angrily to his feet, rage and shame flushing his face, and it + needed Ferguson and the Duke to restore him to some semblance of calm. + Indeed, it may well be that it was to complete this that His Grace decided + there and then that they should follow Grey's advice and go by way of + Taunton, Bridgwater, and Bristol to Gloucester. He was, like all weak men, + of conspicuous mental short-sightedness. The matter of the moment was ever + of greater importance to him than any result that might attend it in the + future. + </p> + <p> + He insisted that Wilding and Grey should shake hands before the breaking + up of that most astounding council, and as he had done last night, he now + again imposed upon them his commands that they must not allow this matter + to go further. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding paved the way for peace by making an apology within + limitations. + </p> + <p> + “If, in my zeal to serve Your Grace to the best of my ability, I have said + that which Lord Grey thinks fit to resent, I would bid him consider my + motive rather than my actual words.” + </p> + <p> + But when all had gone save Ferguson, the chaplain approached the + preoccupied and distressed Duke with counsel that Mr. Wilding should be + sent away from the army. + </p> + <p> + “Else there'll be trouble 'twixt him and Grey,” the plotting parson + foretold. “We'll be having a repetition of the unfortunate Fletcher and + Dare affair, and I think that has cost Your Grace enough already.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suggest that I dismiss Wilding?” cried the Duke. “You know his + influence, and the bad impression his removal would leave.” + </p> + <p> + Ferguson stroked his long lean jaw. “No, no,” said he; “all I suggest is + that you find Mr. Wilding work to do elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Elsewhere?” the Duke questioned. “Where else?” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that, too. Send him to London to see Danvers and to + stir up your friends there. And,” he added, lowering his voice, “give him + discretion to see Sunderland if he thinks well.” + </p> + <p> + The proposition pleased Monmouth, and it seemed to please Mr. Wilding no + less when, having sent for him, the Duke communicated it to him in + Ferguson's presence. + </p> + <p> + Upon this mission Mr. Wilding set out that very night, leaving Nick + Trenchard in despair at being separated from him at a time when there + seemed to be every chance that such a separation might be eternal. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth and Ferguson may have conceived they did a wise thing in removing + a man who was instinctively spoiling for a little sword-play with my Lord + Grey. It is odds that had he remained, the brewing storm between the pair + would have come to a head. Had it done so, it is more than likely, from + what we know of Mr. Wilding's accomplishments, that he had given Lord Grey + his quietus. And had that happened, it is to be inferred from history that + it is possible the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion might have had a less + disastrous issue. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. PLOTS AND PLOTTERS + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Wilding left Monmouth's army at Lyme on Sunday, the 14th of June, and + rejoined it at Bridgwater exactly three weeks later. In the meanwhile a + good deal had happened, yet the happenings on every hand had fallen far + short of the expectations aroused in Mr. Wilding's mind, now by one + circumstance, now by another. In reaching London he had experienced no + difficulty. Men travelling in that direction were not subjected to the + scrutiny that fell to the share of those travelling from it towards the + West, or, rather, to the scrutiny ordained by the Government; for Wilding + had more than one opportunity of observing how very lax and indifferent + were the constables and tything-men—particularly in Somerset and + Wiltshire—in the performance of this duty. Wayfarers were questioned + as a matter of form, but in no case did Wilding hear of any one being + detained upon suspicion. This was calculated to raise his drooping hopes, + pointing as it did to the general favouring of Monmouth that was toward. + He grew less despondent on the score of the Duke's possible ultimate + success, and he came to hope that the efforts he went to exert would not + be fruitless. + </p> + <p> + But rude were the disappointments that awaited him in town. London, like + the rest of the country, was not ready. There were not wanting men who + favoured Monmouth; but no rising had been organized, and the Duke's + partisans were not disposed to rashness. + </p> + <p> + Wilding lodged at Covent Garden, in a house recommended to him by Colonel + Danvers, and there—an outlaw himself—he threw himself with a + will into his task. He heard of the burning of Monmouth's Declaration by + the common hangman at the Royal Exchange, and of the bill passed by the + Commons to make it treason for any to assert that Lucy Walters was married + to the late King. He attended meetings at the “Bull's Head,” in + Bishopsgate, where he met Disney and Danvers, Payton and Lock; but though + they talked and argued at prodigious length, they did naught besides. + Danvers, who was their hope in town, definitely refused to have a hand in + anything that was not properly organized, and in common with the others + urged that they should wait until Cheshire had risen, as was reported that + it must. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, troops had gone west under Kirke and Churchill, and the + Parliament had voted nearly half a million for the putting down of the + rebellion. London was flung into a fever of excitement by the news that + was reaching it. The position was not quite as Monmouth's advisers—before + coming over from Holland—had represented that it would be. They had + thought that out of fear of tumults about his own person, King James would + have been compelled to keep near him what troops he had, sparing none to + be sent against Monmouth. This, King James had not done; he had all but + emptied London of soldiery, and, considering the general disaffection, no + moment could have been more favourable than this for a rising in London + itself. The confusion that must have resulted from the recalling of troops + would have given Monmouth not only a mighty grip of the West, but would + have heartened those who—like Sunderland himself—were sitting + on the wall, to declare themselves for the Protestant Champion. This + Wilding saw, and almost frenziedly did he urge it upon Danvers that all + London needed at the moment was a resolute leader. But the Colonel still + held back; indeed, he had neither truth nor valour; he was timid, and used + deceit to mask his timidity; he urged frivolous reasons for inaction, and + when Wilding waxed impatient with him, he suggested that Wilding himself + should head the rising if he were so confident of its success. And Wilding + would have done it but that, being unknown in London, he had no reason to + suppose that men would flock to him if he raised the Duke's banner. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the excitement grew and rumours ran through town that Monmouth + had now a following of twenty thousand men and that the King's forces were + falling back before him, and discontent was rife at the commissioning of + Catholic lords to levy troops, Wilding again pressed the matter upon + Danvers. Surely no moment could be more propitious. But again he received + the same answer, that Danvers had lacked time to organize matters + sufficiently; that the Duke's coming had taken him by surprise. + </p> + <p> + Lastly came the news that Monmouth had been crowned at Taunton amid the + wildest enthusiasm, and that there were now in England two men each of + whom called himself King James the Second. This was the excuse that + Danvers needed to be rid of a business he had not the courage to transact + to a finish. He swore that he washed his hands of Monmouth's affairs; that + the latter had broken faith with him and the promise he had made him in + having himself proclaimed King. He protested that Monmouth had done ill, + and prophesied that his act would alienate from him the numerous + republicans who, like Danvers, had hitherto looked to him for the + country's salvation. Wilding himself was appalled at the news for Monmouth + was indeed going further than men had been given to understand. + Nevertheless, for his own sake, in very self-defence now, if out of no + motives of loyalty to the Duke, he must urge forward the fortunes of this + man. He had high words with Danvers, and the two might have quarrelled + before long but for the sudden arrest of Disney, which threw Danvers into + such a panic that he fled incontinently, abandoning in body, as he already + appeared to have abandoned in spirit, the Monmouth Cause. + </p> + <p> + The arrest of Disney struck a chill into Wilding. From his lodging at + Covent Garden he had communicated cautiously with Sunderland a few days + after his arrival, building upon certain information he had received from + the Duke at parting as to Sunderland's attachment to the Cause. He had + carefully chosen his moment for making this communication, having a + certain innate mistrust of a man who so obviously as Sunderland was + running with the hare and hunting with the hounds. He had sent a letter to + the Secretary of State when London was agog with the Axminster affair, and + the tale—of which Sir Edward Phelips wrote to Colonel Berkeley as + “the shamefullest story that you ever heard”—of how Albemarle's + forces and the Somerset militia had run before Monmouth in spite of their + own overwhelming numbers. This promised ill for James, particularly when + it was perceived as perceived it was—that this running away was not + all cowardice, not all “the shamefullest story” that Phelips accounted it. + It was an expression of good-will towards Monmouth on the part of the + militia of the West, and it was confidently expected that the next news + would be that these men who had decamped before him would presently be + found to have ranged themselves under his banner. + </p> + <p> + Sunderland had given no sign that he had received Wilding's communication. + And Wilding drew his own contemptuous conclusions of the Secretary of + State's cautious policy. It was a fortnight later—when London was + settling down again from the diversion of excitement created by the news + of Argyle's defeat in Scotland—before Mr. Wilding attempted to + approach Sunderland again. He awaited a favourable opportunity, and this + he had when London was thrown into consternation by the alarming news of + the Duke of Somerset's urgent demand for reinforcements. Unless he had + them, he declared, the whole country was lost, as he could not get the + militia to stand, whilst Lord Stawell's regiment were all fled and mostly + gone over to the rebels at Bridgwater. + </p> + <p> + This was grave news, but it was followed in a few days by graver. The + affair at Philips Norton was exaggerated by report into a wholesale defeat + of the loyal army, and it was reported—on, apparently, such good + authority that it received credence in quarters that might have waited for + official news—that the Duke of Albemarle had been slain by the + militia which had mutinied and deserted to Monmouth. + </p> + <p> + It was while this news was going round that Sunderland—in a moment + of panic—at last vouchsafed an answer to Mr. Wilding's letters, and + he vouchsafed it in person, just as Wilding—particularly since + Disney's arrest—was beginning to lose all hope. He came one evening + to Mr. Wilding's lodgings in Covent Garden, unattended and closely + muffled, and he remained closeted with the Duke's ambassador for nigh upon + an hour, at the end of which he entrusted Mr. Wilding with a letter for + the Duke, very brief but entirely to the point, which expressed him + Monmouth's most devoted servant. + </p> + <p> + “You may well judge, sir,” he had said at parting, “that this is not such + a letter as I should entrust to any man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding had bowed gravely, and gravely he had expressed himself + sensible of the exceptional honour his lordship did him by such a trust. + </p> + <p> + “And I depend upon you, sir, as you are a man of honour, to take such + measures as will ensure against its falling into any but the hands for + which it is intended.” + </p> + <p> + “As I am a man of honour, you may depend upon me,” Mr. Wilding solemnly + promised. “Will your lordship give me three lines above your signature + that will save me from molestation; thus you will facilitate the + preservation of this letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I had already thought of that,” was Sunderland's answer, and he placed + before Mr. Wilding three lines of writing signed and sealed which enjoined + all, straitly, in the King's name to suffer the bearer to pass and repass + and to offer him no hindrance. + </p> + <p> + On that they shook hands and parted, Sunderland to return to Whitehall and + his obedience to the King James whom he was ready to betray as soon as he + saw profit for himself in the act, Mr. Wilding to return to Somerset to + the King James in whom his faith was scant, indeed, but with whom his + fortunes were irrevocably bound up. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Monmouth was back in Bridgwater, his second occupation of which + town was not being looked upon with unmixed favour. The inhabitants had + suffered enough already from his first visit; his return there, after the + Philips Norton affair of which such grossly exaggerated reports had + reached London, and which, in point of fact, had been little better than a + drawn battle—had been looked upon with dread by some, with disfavour + by others, and with dismay by not a few who viewed in this an augury of + failure. + </p> + <p> + Now Sir Rowland Blake, who since his pursuit of Mr. Wilding and Trenchard + on the occasion of their flight from Taunton had—in spite of his + failure on that occasion—been more or less in the service of + Albemarle and the loyal army, saw in this indisposition towards Monmouth + of so many of Bridgwater's inhabitants great possibilities of profit to + himself. + </p> + <p> + He was at Lupton House, the guest of his friend Richard Westmacott, and + the open suitor of Ruth, entirely ignoring the circumstance that she was + nominally the wife of Mr. Wilding—this to the infinite chagrin of + Miss Horton, who saw all her scheming likely to go for nothing. + </p> + <p> + In his heart of hearts it was a matter of not the slightest consequence to + Sir Rowland whether James Stuart or James Scott occupied the throne of + England. His own affairs gave him more than enough to think of, and these + disturbances in the West were very welcome to him, since they rendered + difficult any attempt to trace him on the part of his London creditors. It + happens, however, very commonly that enmity to an individual will lead to + enmity to the cause which that individual espouses. Thus may it have been + with Sir Rowland. His hatred of Wilding and his keen desire to see Wilding + destroyed had made him a zealous partisan of the loyal cause. Richard + Westmacott, easily swayed and overborne by the town rake, whose vices made + him seem to Richard the embodiment of all that is splendid and enviable in + man, had become practically the baronet's tool, now that he had abandoned + Monmouth's Cause. Sir Rowland had not considered it beneath the dignity of + his name and station to discharge in Bridgwater certain functions that + made him more or less a spy. And so reliable had been the information he + had sent Feversham and Albemarle during Monmouth's first occupation of the + town, that he had won by now their complete confidence. + </p> + <p> + The second occupation and its unpopularity with many of those who earlier—if + lukewarm—had been partisans of the Duke, swelled the number of + loyally inclined people in Bridgwater, and suddenly inspired Sir Rowland + with a scheme by which at a blow he might snuff out the rebellion. + </p> + <p> + This scheme involved the capture of the Duke, and the reward of success + should mean far more to Blake than the five thousand pounds at which the + value of the Duke's head had already been fixed by Parliament. He needed a + tool for this, and he even thought of Westmacott and Lupton House, but + afterwards preferred a Mr. Newlington, who was in better case to assist + him. This Newlington, an exceedingly prosperous merchant and one of the + richest men perhaps in the whole West of England, looked with extreme + disfavour upon Monmouth, whose advent had paralyzed his industries to an + extent that was costing him a fine round sum of money weekly. + </p> + <p> + He was now in alarm lest the town of Bridgwater should be made to pay + dearly for having harboured the Protestant Duke—he had no faith + whatever in the Protestant Duke's ultimate prevailing—and that he, + as one of the town's most prominent and prosperous citizens, might be + amongst the heaviest sufferers in spite of his neutrality. This neutrality + he observed because it was hardly safe in that disaffected town for a man + to proclaim himself a loyalist. + </p> + <p> + To him Sir Rowland expounded his audacious plan... He sought out the + merchant in his handsome mansion on the night of that Friday which had + witnessed Monmouth's return, and the merchant, honoured by the visit of + this gallant—ignorant as he was of the gentleman's fame in town—placed + himself entirely and instantly at his disposal, though the hour was late. + Sounding him carefully, and finding the fellow most amenable to any scheme + that should achieve the salvation of his purse and industries, Blake + boldly laid his plan before him. Startled at first, Mr. Newlington upon + considering it became so enthusiastic that he hailed Sir Rowland as his + deliverer, and heartily promised his cooperation. Indeed, it was Mr. + Newlington who was, himself, to take the first step. + </p> + <p> + Well pleased with his evening's work, Sir Rowland went home to Lupton + House and to bed. In the morning he broached the matter to Richard. He had + all the vanity of the inferior not only to lessen the appearance of his + inferiority, but to clothe himself in a mantle of importance; and it was + this vanity urged him to acquaint Richard with his plans in the very + presence of Ruth. + </p> +<p> +They had broken their fast, and they still lingered in the dining-room, +the largest and most important room in Lupton House. It was cool and +pleasant here in contrast to the heat of the July sun, which, following +upon the late wet weather, beat fiercely on the lawn, the window-doors +to which stood open. The cloth had been raised, and Diana and her mother +had lately left the room. Ruth, in the window-seat, at a small oval +table, was arranging a cluster of roses in an old bronze bowl. Sir +Rowland, his stiff short figure carefully dressed in a suit of brown +camlet, his fair wig very carefully curled, occupied a tall-backed +armchair near the empty fireplace. Richard, perched on the table's edge, +swung his shapely legs idly backwards and forwards and cogitated upon a +pretext to call for a morning draught of last October's ale. +</p> + <p> + Ruth completed her task with the roses and turned her eyes upon her +brother. +</p> + <p> + “You are not looking well, Richard,” she said, which was true enough, for + much hard drinking was beginning to set its stamp on Richard, and young as + he was, his insipidly fair face began to display a bloatedness that was + exceedingly unhealthy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am well enough,” he answered almost peevishly, for these allusions + to his looks were becoming more frequent than he savoured. + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” cried Sir Rowland's deep voice, “you'll need to be well. I have + work for you to-morrow, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + Dick did not appear to share his enthusiasm. “I am sick of the work you + discover for us, Rowland,” he answered ungraciously. + </p> + <p> + But Blake showed no resentment. “Maybe you'll find the present task more + to your taste. If it's deeds of derring-do you pine for, I am the man to + satisfy you.” He smiled grimly, his bold grey eyes glancing across at + Ruth, who was observing him, listening. + </p> + <p> + Richard sneered, but offered him no encouragement to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Blake, “that I shall have to tell you the whole story before + you'll credit me. Shalt have it, then. But...” and he checked on the word, + his face growing serious, his eye wandering to the door, “I would not have + it overheard—not for a king's ransom,” which was more literally true + than he may have intended it to be. + </p> + <p> + Richard looked over his shoulder carelessly at the door. + </p> + <p> + “We have no eavesdroppers,” he said, and his voice bespoke his contempt of + the gravity of this news of which Sir Rowland made so much in + anticipation. He was acquainted with Sir Rowland's ways, and the + importance of them. “What are you considering?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “To end the rebellion,” answered Blake, his voice cautiously lowered. + </p> + <p> + Richard laughed outright. “There are several others considering that—notably + His Majesty King James, the Duke of Albemarle, and the Earl of Feversham. + Yet they don't appear to achieve it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in that particular,” said Blake complacently, “that I shall differ + from them.” He turned to Ruth, eager to engage her in the conversation, to + flatter her by including her in the secret. Knowing the loyalist + principles she entertained, he had no reason to fear that his plans could + other than meet her approval. “What do you say, Mistress Ruth?” Presuming + upon his friendship with her brother, he had taken to calling her by that + name in preference to the other which he could not bring himself to give + her. “Is it not an object worthy of a gentleman's endeavour?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can save so many poor people from encompassing their ruin by + following that rash young man the Duke of Monmouth, you will indeed be + doing a worthy deed.” + </p> + <p> + Blake rose, and made her a leg. “Madam,” said he, “had aught been wanting + to cement my resolve, your words would supply it to me. My plan is + simplicity itself. I propose to capture Monmouth and his principal agents, + and deliver them over to the King. And that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “A mere nothing,” croaked Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Could more be needed?” quoth Blake. “Once the rebel army is deprived of + its leaders it will melt and dissolve of itself. Once the Duke is in the + hands of his enemies there will be nothing left to fight for. Is it not + shrewd?” + </p> + <p> + “You are telling us the object rather than the plan,” Ruth reminded him. + “If the plan is as good as the object...” + </p> + <p> + “As good?” he echoed, chuckling. “You shall judge.” And briefly he + sketched for her the springe he was setting with the help of Mr. + Newlington. “Newlington is rich; the Duke is in straits for money. + Newlington goes to-day to offer him twenty thousand pounds; and the Duke + is to do him the honour of supping at his house to-morrow night to fetch + the money. It is a reasonable request for Mr. Newlington to make under the + circumstances, and the Duke cannot—dare not refuse it.” + </p> + <p> + “But how will that advance your project?” Ruth inquired, for Blake had + paused again, thinking that the rest must be obvious. + </p> + <p> + “In Mr. Newlington's orchard I propose to post a score or so of men, well + armed. Oh! I shall run no risks of betrayal by engaging Bridgwater folk. + I'll get the fellows I need from General Feversham. We take Monmouth at + supper, as quietly as may be, with what gentlemen happen to have + accompanied him. We bind and gag the Duke, and we convey him with all + speed and quiet out of Bridgwater. Feversham shall send a troop to await + me a mile or so from the town on the road to Weston Zoyland. We shall join + them with our captive, and thus convey him to the Royalist General. Could + aught be simpler or more infallible?” + </p> + <p> + Richard had slipped from the table. He had changed his mind on the subject + of the importance of the business Blake had in view. Excited by it, he + clapped his friend on the back approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “A great plan!” he cried. “Is it not, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “It should be the means of saving hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives,” + said she, “and so it deserves to prosper. But what of the officers who may + be with the Duke?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “There are not likely to be many—half a dozen, say. We shall have to + make short work of them, lest they should raise an alarm.” He saw her + glance clouding. “That is the ugly part of the affair,” he was quick to + add, himself assuming a look of sadness. He sighed. “What help is there?” + he asked. “Better that those few should suffer than that, as you yourself + have said, there should be some thousands of lives lost before this + rebellion is put down. Besides,” he continued, “Monmouth's officers are + far-seeing, ambitious men, who have entered into this affair to promote + their own personal fortunes. They are gamesters who have set their lives + upon the board against a great prize, and they know it. But these other + poor misguided people who have gone out to fight for liberty and religion—it + is these whom I am striving to rescue.” + </p> + <p> + His words sounded fervent, his sentiments almost heroic. Ruth looked at + him, and wondered had she misjudged him in the past. She sighed. Then she + thought of Wilding. He was on the other side, but where was he? Rumour ran + that he was dead; that he and Grey had quarrelled at Lyme, and that + Wilding had been killed as a result. Had it not been for Diana, who + strenuously bade her attach no credit to these reports, she would readily + have believed them. As it was she waited, wondering, thinking of him + always as she had seen him on that day at Walford when he had taken his + leave of her, and more than once, when she pondered the words he had said, + the look that had invested his drooping eyes, she found herself with tears + in her own. They welled up now, and she rose hastily to her feet. + </p> + <p> + She looked a moment at Blake who was watching her keenly, speculating upon + this emotion of which she betrayed some sign, and wondering might not his + heroism have touched her, for, as we have seen, he had arrayed a deed of + excessive meanness, a deed worthy, almost, of the Iscariot, in the panoply + of heroic achievement. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, “that you are setting your hand to a very worthy and + glorious enterprise, and I hope, nay, I am sure, that success must attend + your efforts.” He was still bowing his thanks when she passed out through + the open window-doors into the sunshine of the garden. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland swung round upon Richard. “A great enterprise, Dick,” he + cried; “I may count upon you for one?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Dick, who had found at last the pretext that he needed, “you + may count on me. Pull the bell, we'll drink to the success of the + venture.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. MR. WILDING'S RETURN + </h2> + <p> + The preparations to be made for the momentous coup Sir Rowland meditated + were considerable. Mr. Newlington was yet to be concerted with and + advised, and, that done, Sir Rowland had to face the difficulty of eluding + the Bridgwater guards and make his way to Feversham's camp at Somerton to + enlist the general's cooperation to the extent that we have seen he looked + for. That done, he was to return and ripen his preparations for the + business he had undertaken. Nevertheless, in spite of all that lay before + him, he did not find it possible to leave Lupton House without stepping + out into the garden in quest of Ruth. Through the window, whilst he and + Richard were at their ale, he had watched her between whiles, and had + lingered, waiting; for Diana was with her, and it was not his wish to seek + her whilst Diana was at hand. Speak with her, ere he went, he must. He was + an opportunist, and now, he fondly imagined, was his opportunity. He had + made that day, at last, a favourable impression upon Richard's sister; he + had revealed himself in an heroic light, and egregiously misreading the + emotion she had shown before withdrawing, he was satisfied that did he + strike now victory must attend him. He sighed his satisfaction and + pleasurable anticipation. He had been wary and he had known how to wait; + and now, it seemed to him, he was to be rewarded for his patience. Then he + frowned, as another glance showed him that Diana still lingered with her + cousin; he wished Diana at the devil. He had come to hate this fair-haired + doll to whom he had once paid court. She was too continually in his way, a + constant obstacle in his path, ever ready to remind Ruth of Anthony + Wilding when Sir Rowland most desired Anthony Wilding to be forgotten; and + in Diana's feelings towards himself such a change had been gradually + wrought that she had come to reciprocate his sentiments—to hate him + with all the bitter hatred into which love can be by scorn transmuted. At + first her object in keeping Ruth's thoughts on Mr. Wilding, in pleading + his cause, and seeking to present him in a favourable light to the lady + whom he had constrained to become his wife, had been that he might stand a + barrier between Ruth and Sir Rowland to the end that Diana might hope to + see revived—faute de mieux, since possible in no other way—the + feelings that once Sir Rowland had professed for herself. The situation + was rich in humiliations for poor, vain, foolishly crafty Diana, and these + humiliations were daily rendered more bitter by Sir Rowland's unwavering + courtship of her cousin in spite of all that she could do. + </p> + <p> + In the end the poison of them entered her soul, corroded her sentiments + towards him, dissolved the love she had borne him, and transformed it into + venom. She would not have him now if he did penitence for his disaffection + by going in sackcloth and crawling after her on his knees for a full + twelvemonth. But neither should he have Ruth if she could thwart his + purpose. On that she was resolved. + </p> + <p> + Had she but guessed that he watched them from the windows, waiting for her + to take her departure, she had lingered all the morning, and all the + afternoon if need be, at Ruth's side. But being ignorant of the + circumstance—believing that he had already left the house—she + presently quitted Ruth to go indoors, and no sooner was she gone than + there was Blake replacing her at Ruth's elbow. Mistress Wilding met him + with unsmiling, but not ungentle face. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet gone, Sir Rowland?” she asked him, and a less sanguine man had + been discouraged by the words. + </p> +<p> +“It may be forgiven me that I tarry at such a time,” said he, “when we +consider that I go, perhaps—to return no more.” It was an inspiration +on his part to assume the role of the hero going forth to a possible +death. It invested him with noble, valiant pathos which could not, he +thought, fail of its effect upon a woman's mind. But he looked in vain +for a change of colour, be it ever so slight, or a quickening of the +breath. He found neither; though, indeed, her deep blue eyes seemed to +soften as they observed him. +</p> + <p> + “There is danger in this thing that you are undertaking?” said she, +between question and assertion. +</p> + <p> + “It is not my wish to overstate it; yet I leave you to imagine what the + risk may be.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a good cause,” said she, thinking of the poor, deluded, humble folk + that followed Monmouth's banner, whom Blake's fine action was to rescue + from impending ruin and annihilation, “and surely Heaven will be on your + side.” + </p> + <p> + “We must prevail,” cried Blake with kindling eye, and you had thought him + a fanatic, not a miserable earner of blood-money. “We must prevail, though + some of us may pay dearly for the victory. I have a foreboding...” He + paused, sighed, then laughed and flung back his head, as if throwing off + some weight that had oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + It was admirably played; Nick Trenchard, had he observed it, might have + envied the performance; and it took effect with her, this adding of a + prospective martyr's crown to the hero's raiment he had earlier donned. It + was a master-touch worthy of one who was deeply learned—from the + school of foul experience—in the secret ways that lead to a woman's + favour. In a pursuit of this kind there was no subterfuge too mean, no + treachery too base for Sir Rowland Blake. + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk, mistress?” he said, and she, feeling that it were an + unkindness not to do his will, assented gravely. They moved down the + sloping lawn, side by side, Sir Rowland leaning on his cane, bareheaded, + his feathered hat tucked under his arm. Before them the river's smooth + expanse, swollen and yellow with the recent rains, glowed like a sheet of + copper, so that it blurred the sight to look upon it long. + </p> + <p> + A few steps they took with no word uttered, then Sir Rowland spoke. “With + this foreboding that is on me,” said he, “I could not go without seeing + you, without saying something that I may never have another chance of + saying; something that—who knows?—but for the emprise to which + I am now wedded you had never heard from me.” + </p> + <p> + He shot her a furtive, sidelong glance from under his heavy, beetling + brows, and now, indeed, he observed a change ripple over the composure of + her face like a sudden breeze across a sheet of water. The deep lace + collar at her throat rose and fell, and her fingers toyed nervously with a + ribbon of her grey bodice. She recovered in an instant, and threw up + entrenchments against the attack she saw he was about to make. + </p> + <p> + “You exaggerate, I trust,” said she. “Your forebodings will be proved + groundless. You will return safe and sound from this venture, as indeed I + hope you may.” + </p> + <p> + That was his cue. “You hope it?” he cried, arresting his step, turning, + and imprisoning her left hand in his right. “You hope it? Ah, if you hope + for my return, return I will; but unless I know that you will have some + welcome for me such as I desire from you, I think...” his voice quivered + cleverly, “I think, perhaps, it were well if... if my forebodings were not + as groundless as you say they are. Tell me, Ruth...” + </p> + <p> + But she interrupted him. It was high time, she thought. Her face he saw + was flushed, her eyes had hardened somewhat. Calmly she disengaged her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is't you mean?” she asked. “Speak, Sir Rowland, speak plainly, that + I may give you a plain answer.” + </p> + <p> + It was a challenge in which another man had seen how hopeless was his + case, and, accepting defeat, had made as orderly a retreat as still was + possible. But Sir Rowland, stricken in his vanity, went headlong on to + utter rout. + </p> + <p> + “Since you ask me in such terms I will be plain, indeed,” he answered her. + “I mean...” He almost quailed before the look that met him from her + intrepid eyes. “Do you not see my meaning, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “That which I see,” said she, “I do not believe, and as I would not wrong + you by any foolish imaginings, I would have you plain with me.” + </p> + <p> + Yet the egregious fool went on. “And why should you not believe your + senses?” he asked her, between anger and entreaty. “Is it wonderful that I + should love you? Is it...?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” She drew back a pace from him. There was a moment's silence, + during which it seemed she gathered her forces to destroy him, and, in the + spirit, he bowed his head before the coming storm. Then, with a sudden + relaxing of the stiffness her lissom figure had assumed, “I think you had + better leave me, Sir Rowland,” she advised him. She half turned and moved + a step away; he followed with lowering glance, his upper lip lifting and + laying bare his powerful teeth. In a stride he was beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hate me, Ruth?” he asked her hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I hate you?” she counter-questioned, sadly. “I do not even + dislike you,” she continued in a more friendly tone, adding, as if by way + of explaining this phenomenon, “You are my brother's friend. But I am + disappointed in you, Sir Rowland. You had, I know, no intention of + offering me disrespect; and yet it is what you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “As how?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing me another's wife...” + </p> + <p> + He broke in tempestuously. “A mock marriage! If it is but that scruple + stands between us...” + </p> + <p> + “I think there is more,” she answered him. “You compel me to hurt you; I + do so as the surgeon does—that I may heal you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, thanks for nothing,” he made answer, unable to repress a sneer. + Then, checking himself, and resuming the hero-martyr posture, “I go, + mistress,” he told her sadly, “and if I lose my life to-night, or + to-morrow, in this affair...” + </p> + <p> + “I shall pray for you,” said she; for she had found him out at last, + perceived the nature of the bow he sought to draw across her + heart-strings, and, having perceived it, contempt awoke in her. He had + attempted to move her by unfair, insidious means. + </p> + <p> + He fell back, crimson from chin to brow. He stifled the wrath that welled + up, threatening to choke him. He was a short-necked man, of the sort—as + Trenchard had once reminded him—that falls a prey to apoplexy, and + surely he was never nearer it than at that moment. He made her a profound + bow, bending himself almost in two before her in a very irony of + deference; then, drawing himself up again, he turned and left her. + </p> + <p> + The plot which with some pride he had hatched and the reward he looked to + cull from it, were now to his soul as ashes to his lips. What could it + profit him to destroy Monmouth so that Anthony Wilding lived? For whether + she loved Wilding or not, she was Wilding's wife. Wilding, nominally, at + least, was master of that which Sir Rowland coveted; not her heart, + indeed, but her ample fortune. Wilding had been a stumbling-block to him + since he had come to Bridgwater; but for Wilding he might have run a + smooth course; he was still fool enough to hug that dear illusion to his + soul. Somewhere in England—if not dead already—this Wilding + lurked, an outlaw, whom any might shoot down at sight. Sir Rowland swore + he would not rest until he knew that Anthony Wilding cumbered the earth no + more—leastways, not the surface of it. + </p> + <p> + He went forth to seek Newlington. The merchant had sent his message to the + rebel King, and had word in answer that His Majesty would be graciously + pleased to sup at Mr. Newlington's at nine o'clock on the following + evening, attended by a few gentlemen of his immediate following. Sir + Rowland received the news with satisfaction, and sighed to think that Mr. + Wilding—still absent, Heaven knew where—would not be of the + party. It was reported that on the Monday Monmouth was to march to + Gloucester, hoping there to be joined by his Cheshire friends, so that it + seemed Sir Rowland had not matured his plan a day too soon. He got to + horse, and contriving to win out of Bridgwater, rode off to Somerton to + concert with Lord Feversham concerning the men he would need for his undertaking. + </p> + <p> + That night Richard made free talk of the undertaking to Diana and to Ruth, + loving, as does the pusillanimous, to show himself engaged in daring + enterprises. Emulating his friend Sir Rowland, he held forth with + prolixity upon the great service he was to do the State, and Ruth, + listening to him, was proud of his zeal, the sincerity of which it never + entered her mind to doubt. + </p> + <p> + Diana listened, too, but without illusions concerning Master Richard, and + she kept her conclusions to herself. + </p> + <p> + During the afternoon of the morrow, which was Sunday, Sir Rowland returned + to Bridgwater, his mission to Feversham entirely successful, and all + preparations made. He completed his arrangements, and towards eight + o'clock that night the twenty men sent by Feversham—they had slipped + singly into the town—began to muster in the orchard at the back of + Mr. Newlington's house. + </p> + <p> + It was just about that same hour that Mr. Wilding, saddle-worn and + dust-clogged in every pore, rode into Bridgwater, and made his way to the + sign of The Ship in the High Street, overlooking the Cross where Trenchard + was lodged. His friend was absent—possibly gone with his men to the + sermon Ferguson was preaching to the army in the Castle Fields. Having put + up his horse, Mr. Wilding, all dusty as he was, repaired straight to the + Castle to report himself to Monmouth. + </p> + <p> + He was informed that His Majesty was in council. Nevertheless, urging that + his news was of importance, he begged to be instantly announced. After a + pause, he was ushered into a lofty, roomy chamber where, in the fading + daylight, King Monmouth sat in council with Grey and Wade, Matthews, + Speke, Ferguson, and others. At the foot of the table stood a sturdy + country-fellow, unknown to Wilding. It was Godfrey, the spy, who was to + act as their guide across Sedgemoor that night; for the matter that was + engaging them just then was the completion of their plans for the attack + that was to be made that very night upon Feversham's unprepared camp—a + matter which had been resolved during the last few hours as an alternative + preferable to the retreat towards Gloucester that had at first been + intended. + </p> + <p> + Wilding was shocked at the change that had been wrought in Monmouth's + appearance during the few weeks since last he had seen him. His face was + thin, pale, and haggard, his eyes were more sombre, and beneath them there + were heavy, dark stains of sleeplessness and care, his very voice, when + presently he spoke, seemed to have lost the musical timbre that had + earlier distinguished it; it was grown harsh and rasping. Disappointment + after disappointment, set down to ill-luck, but in reality the fruit of + incompetence, had served to sour him. The climax had been reached in the + serious desertions after the Philips Norton fight, and the flight of + Paymaster Goodenough with the funds for the campaign. The company sat + about the long oak table on which a map was spread, and Colonel Wade was + speaking when Wilding entered. + </p> + <p> + On his appearance Wade ceased, and every eye was turned upon the messenger + from London. Ferguson, fresh from his sermon, sat with elbows resting on + the table, his long chin supported by his hands, his eyes gleaming sharply + under the shadow of his wig which was pulled down in front to the level of + his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + It was the Duke who addressed Mr. Wilding, and the latter's keen ears were + quick to catch the bitterness that underlay his words. + </p> + <p> + “We are glad to see you, sir; we had not looked to do so again.” + </p> + <p> + “Not looked to do so, Your Gr... Majesty!” he echoed, plainly not + understanding, and it was observed that he stumbled over the Duke's new + title. + </p> + <p> + “We had imagined that the pleasures of the town were claiming your entire + attention.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding looked from one to the other of the men before him, and on the + face of all he saw a gravity that amounted to disapproval of him. + </p> + <p> + “The pleasures of the town?” said he, frowning, and again—“the + pleasures of the town? There is something in this that I fear I do not + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you bring us news that London has risen?” asked Grey suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I would I could,” said Wilding, smiling wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a laughing matter?” quoth Grey angrily. + </p> + <p> + “A smiling matter, my lord,” answered Wilding, nettled. “Your lordship + will observe that I did but smile.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding,” said Monmouth darkly, “we are not pleased with you.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” returned Wilding, more and more irritated, “Your Majesty + expected of me more than was possible to any man.” + </p> + <p> + “You have wasted your time in London, sir,” the Duke explained. “We sent + you thither counting upon your loyalty and devotion to ourselves. What + have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “As much as a man could...” Wilding began, when Grey again interrupted + him. + </p> + <p> + “As little as a man could,” he answered. “Were His Grace not the most + foolishly clement prince in Christendom, a halter would be your reward for + the fine things you have done in London.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding stiffened visibly, his long white face grew set, and his + slanting eyes looked wicked. He was not a man readily moved to anger, but + to be greeted in such words as these by one who constituted himself the + mouthpiece of him for whom Wilding had incurred ruin was more than he + could bear with equanimity; that the risks to which he had exposed himself + in London—where, indeed, he had been in almost hourly expectation of + arrest and such short shrift as poor Disney had—should be + acknowledged in such terms as these, was something that turned him almost + sick with disgust. To what manner of men had he leagued himself? He looked + Grey steadily between the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I mind me of an occasion on which such a charge of foolish clemency + might, indeed—and with greater justice—have been levelled + against His Majesty,” said he and his calm was almost terrible. + </p> + <p> + His lordship grew pale at the obvious allusion to Monmouth's mild + treatment of him for his cowardice at Bridport, and his eyes were as + baleful as Wilding's own at that moment. But before he could speak, + Monmouth had already answered Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “You are wanting in respect to us, sir,” he admonished him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding bowed to the rebuke in a submission that seemed ironical. The + blood mounted slowly to Monmouth's cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” put in Wade, who was anxious for peace, “Mr. Wilding has some + explanation to offer us of his failure.” + </p> + <p> + His failure! They took too much for granted. Stitched in the lining of his + boot was the letter from the Secretary of State. To have achieved that was + surely to have achieved something. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir, for supposing it,” answered Wilding, his voice hard + with self-restraint; “I have indeed an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “We will hear it,” said Monmouth condescendingly, and Grey sneered, + thrusting out his bloated lips. + </p> + <p> + “I have to offer the explanation that Your Majesty is served in London by + cowards; self-sufficient and self-important cowards who have hindered me + in my task instead of helping me. I refer particularly to Colonel + Danvers.” + </p> + <p> + Grey interrupted him. “You have a rare effrontery, sir—aye, by God! + Do you dare call Danvers a coward?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not I who so call him; but the facts. Colonel Danvers has run away. + </p> + <p> + “Danvers gone?” cried Ferguson, voicing the consternation of all. + </p> + <p> + Wilding shrugged and smiled; Grey's eye was offensively upon him. He + elected to answer the challenge of that glance. “He has followed the + illustrious example set him by other of Your Majesty's devoted followers,” + said Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Grey rose suddenly. This was too much. “I'll not endure it from this + knave!” he cried, appealing to Monmouth. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth wearily waved him to a seat; but Grey disregarded the command. + </p> + <p> + “What have I said that should touch your lordship?” asked Wilding, and, + smiling sardonically, he looked into Grey's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is not what you have said. It is what you have inferred.” + </p> + <p> + “And to call me knave!” said Wilding in a mocking horror. + </p> + <p> + The repression of his anger lent him a rare bitterness, and an almost + devilishly subtle manner of expressing wordlessly what was passing in his + mind. There was not one present but gathered from his utterance of those + five words that he did not hold Grey worthy the honour of being called to + account for that offensive epithet. He made just an exclamatory protest, + such as he might have made had a woman applied the term to him. + </p> + <p> + Grey turned from him slowly to Monmouth. “It might be well,” said he, in + his turn controlling himself at last, “to place Mr. Wilding under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding's manner quickened on the instant from passive to active + anger. + </p> + <p> + “Upon what charge, sir?” he demanded sharply. In truth it was the only + thing wanting that, after all that he had undergone, he should be + arrested. His eyes were upon the Duke's melancholy face, and his anger was + such that in that moment he vowed that if Monmouth acted upon this + suggestion of Grey's he should not have so much as the consolation of + Sunderland's letter. + </p> + <p> + “You have been wanting in respect to us, sir,” the Duke answered him. He + seemed able to do little more than repeat himself. “You return from London + empty-handed, your task unaccomplished, and instead of a becoming + contrition, you hector it here before us in this manner.” He shook his + head. “We are not pleased with you, Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Your Grace,” exclaimed Wilding, “is it my fault that your London + agents had failed to organize the rising? That rising should have taken + place, and it would have taken place had Your Majesty been more ably + represented there.” + </p> + <p> + “You were there, Mr. Wilding,” said Grey with heavy sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Would it no' be better to leave Mr. Wilding's affair until afterwards?” + suggested Ferguson at that moment. “It is already past eight, Your + Majesty, and there be still some details of this attack to settle that + your officers may prepare for it, whilst Mr. Newlington awaits Your + Majesty to supper at nine.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Monmouth, ever ready to take a solution offered by another. + “We will confer with you again later, Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding bowed, accepting his dismissal. “Before I go, Your Majesty, there + are certain things I would report...” he began. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard, sir,” Grey broke in. “Not now. This is not the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, no. This is not the time, Mr. Wilding,” echoed the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Wilding set his teeth in the intensity of his vexation. + </p> + <p> + “What I have to tell Your Majesty is of importance,” he exclaimed, and + Monmouth seemed to waver, whilst Grey looked disdainful unbelief of the + importance of any communication Wilding might have to make. + </p> + <p> + “We have little time, Your Majesty,” Ferguson reminded Monmouth. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” put in friendly Wade, “Your Majesty might see Mr. Wilding at + Mr. Newlington's.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it really necessary?” quoth Grey. + </p> + <p> + This treatment of him inspired Mr. Wilding with malice. The mere mention + of Sunderland's letter would have changed their tone. But he elected by no + such word to urge the importance of his business. It should be entirely as + Monmouth should elect or be constrained by these gentlemen about his + council-table. + </p> + <p> + “It would serve two purposes,” said Wade, whilst Monmouth still + considered. “Your Majesty will be none too well attended, your officers + having this other matter to prepare for. Mr. Wilding would form another to + swell your escort of gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are right, Colonel Wade,” said Monmouth. “We sup at Mr. + Newlington's at nine o'clock, Mr. Wilding. We shall expect you to attend + us there. Lieutenant Cragg,” said His Grace to the young officer who had + admitted Wilding, and who had remained at attention by the door, “you may + reconduct Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding bowed, his lips tight to keep in the anger that craved expression. + Then, without another word spoken, he turned and departed. + </p> + <p> + “An insolent, overbearing knave!” was Grey's comment upon him after he had + left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Let us attend to this, your lordship,” said Speke, tapping the map. “Time + presses,” and he invited Wade to continue the matter that Wilding's advent + had interrupted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. BETRAYAL + </h2> + <p> + Still smarting under the cavalier treatment he had received, Mr. Wilding + came forth from the Castle to find Trenchard awaiting him among the crowd + of officers and men that thronged the yard. + </p> + <p> + Nick linked his arm through his friend's and led him away. They quitted + the place in silence, and in silence took their way south towards the High + Street, Nick waiting for Mr. Wilding to speak, Mr. Wilding's mind still in + turmoil at the things he had endured. At last Nick halted suddenly and + looked keenly at his friend in the failing light. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague ails you, Tony?” said he sharply. “You are as silent as I + am impatient for your news.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding told him in brief, disdainful terms of the reception they had + given him at the Castle, and of how they had blamed him for the + circumstance that London had failed to proclaim itself for Monmouth. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard snarled viciously. “'Tis that mongrel Grey,” said he. “Oh, + Anthony, to what an affair have we set our hands? Naught can prosper with + that fellow in it.” He laid his hand on Wilding's arm and lowered his + voice. “As I have hinted before, 'twould not surprise me if time proved + him a traitor. Failure attends him everywhere, and so unfailingly that one + wonders is not failure invited by him. And that fool Monmouth! Pshaw! See + what it is to serve a weakling. With another in his place and the country + disaffected as it is, we had been masters of England by now.” + </p> + <p> + Two ladies passed them at that moment, cloaked and hooded, walking + briskly. One of them turned to look at Trenchard, who, waving his arms in + wild gesticulation, was a conspicuous object. She checked in her walk, + arresting her companion. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding!” she exclaimed. It was Lady Horton. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding!” cried Diana, her companion. + </p> + <p> + Wilding doffed his hat and bowed, Trenchard following his example. + </p> + <p> + “We had scarce looked to see you in Bridgwater again,” said the mother, + her mild, pleasant countenance reflecting the satisfaction it gave her to + behold him safe and sound. + </p> + <p> + “There have been moments,” answered Wilding, “when myself I scarce + expected to return. Your ladyship's greeting shows me what I had lost had + I not done so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are but newly arrived?” quoth Diana, scanning him in the gloaming. + </p> + <p> + “From London, an hour since.” + </p> + <p> + “An hour?” she echoed, and observed that he was still booted and + dust-stained. “You will have been to Lupton House?” + </p> + <p> + A shadow crossed his face, his glance seemed to grow clouded, all of which + watchful Diana did not fail to observe. “Not yet,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You are a laggard,” she laughed at him, and he felt the blood driven back + upon his heart. What did she mean? Was it possible she suggested that he + should be welcome, that his wife's feelings towards him had undergone a + change? His last parting from her on the road near Walford had been ever + in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I have had weighty business to transact, he replied, and Trenchard + snorted, his mind flying back to the council-room at the Castle, and what + his friend had told him. + </p> + <p> + “But now that you have disposed of that you will sup with us,” said Lady + Horton, who was convinced that since Ruth had gone to the altar with him + he was Ruth's lover in spite of the odd things she had heard. Appearances + with Lady Horton counted for everything, and all that glittered was gold + to her. + </p> + <p> + “I would,” he answered, “but that I am to sup at Mr. Newlington's with His + Majesty. My visit must wait until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope,” said Trenchard, “that it waits no longer.” He was already + instructed touching the night attack on Feversham's camp on Sedgemoor, and + thought it likely Wilding would accompany them. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to Mr. Newlington's?” said Diana, and Trenchard thought she + had turned singularly pale. Her hand was over her heart, her eyes wide. + She seemed about to add something, but checked herself. She took her + mother's arm. “We are detaining Mr. Wilding, mother,” said she, and her + voice quivered as if her whole being were shaken by some gusty agitation. + They spoke their farewells briefly, and moved on. A second later Diana was + back at their side again. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you lodged, Mr. Wilding?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “With my friend Trenchard—at the sign of The Ship, by the Cross.” + </p> + <p> + She briefly acknowledged the information, rejoined her mother, and hurried + away with her. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard stood staring after them a moment. “Odd!” said he; “did you mark + that girl's discomposure?” + </p> + <p> + But Wilding's thoughts were elsewhere. “Come, Nick! If I am to render + myself fit to sit at table with Monmouth, we'll need to hasten.” + </p> + <p> + They went their way, but not so fast as went Diana, urging with her her + protesting and short-winded mother. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mistress?” the girl asked excitedly of the first servant + she met at Lupton House. + </p> + <p> + “In her room, madam,” the man replied, and to Ruth's room went Diana + breathlessly, leaving Lady Horton gaping after her and understanding + nothing. + </p> + <p> + Ruth, who was seated pensive by her window, rose on Diana's impetuous + entrance, and in the deepening twilight she looked almost ghostly in her + gown of shimmering white satin, sewn with pearls about the neck of the + low-cut bodice. + </p> + <p> + “Diana!” she cried. “You startled me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much as I am yet to do,” answered Diana, breathing excitement. She + threw back the wimple from her head, and pulling away her cloak, tossed it + on to the bed. “Mr. Wilding is in Bridgwater,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + There was a faint rustle from the stiff satin of Ruth's gown. “Then...” + her voice shook slightly. “Then... he is not dead,” she said, more because + she felt that she must say something than because her words fitted the + occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” said Diana grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet?” + </p> + <p> + “He sups to-night at Mr. Newlington's,” Miss Horton exclaimed in a voice + pregnant with meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” It was a cry from Ruth, sharp as if she had been stabbed. She sank + back to her seat by the window, smitten down by this sudden news. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, which fretted Diana, who now craved knowledge of what + might be passing in her cousin's mind. She advanced towards Ruth and laid + a trembling hand on her shoulder, where the white gown met the ivory neck. + “He must be warned,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But... but how?” stammered Ruth. “To warn him were to betray Sir + Rowland.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland?” cried Diana in high scorn. + </p> + <p> + “And... and Richard,” Ruth continued. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Mr. Newlington, and all the other knaves that are engaged in + this murderous business. Well?” she demanded. “Will you do it, or must I?” + </p> + <p> + “Do it?” Ruth's eyes sought her cousin's white, excited face in the + quasi-darkness. “But have you thought of what it will mean? Have you + thought of the poor people that will perish unless the Duke is taken and + this rebellion brought to an end?” + </p> + <p> + “Thought of it?” repeated Diana witheringly. “Not I. I have thought that + Mr. Wilding is here and like to have his throat cut before an hour is + past.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, are you sure of this?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “I have it from your husband's own lips,” Diana answered, and told her in + a few words of her meeting with Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + Ruth sat with hands folded in her lap, her eyes on the dim violet + after-glow in the west, and her mind wrestling with this problem that + Diana had brought her. + </p> + <p> + “Diana,” she cried at last, “what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do?” echoed Diana. “Is it not plain? Warn Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “But Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding saved Richard's life...” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I know. My duty is to warn him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why hesitate?” + </p> + <p> + “My duty is also to keep faith with Richard, to think of those poor + misguided folk who are to be saved by this,” cried Ruth in an agony. “If + Mr. Wilding is warned, they will all be ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Diana stamped her foot impatiently. “Had I thought to find you in this + mind, I had warned him myself,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Why did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “That the chance of doing so might be yours. That you might thus repay him + the debt in which you stand.” + </p> + <p> + “Diana, I can't!” The words broke from her in a sob. + </p> + <p> + But whatever her interest in Mr. Wilding for her own sake, Diana's prime + intent was the thwarting of Sir Rowland Blake. If Wilding were warned of what + manner of feast was spread at Newlington's, Sir Rowland would be indeed + undone. + </p> + <p> + “You think of Richard,” she exclaimed, “and you know that Richard is to + have no active part in the affair—that he will run no risk. They + have assigned him but a sentry duty that he may warn Blake and his + followers if any danger threatens them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not of Richard's life I am thinking, but of his honour, of his + trust in me. To warn Mr. Wilding were... to commit an act of betrayal.” + </p> + <p> + “And is Mr. Wilding to be slaughtered with his friends?” Diana asked her. + “Resolve me that. Time presses. In half an hour it will be too late.” + </p> + <p> + That allusion to the shortness of the time brought Ruth an inspiration. + Suddenly she saw a way. Wilding should be saved, and yet she would not + break faith with Richard nor ruin those others. She would detain him, and + whilst warning him at the last moment, in time for him to save himself; + not do so until it must be too late for him to warn the others. Thus she + would do her duty by him, and yet keep faith with Richard and Sir Rowland. + She had resolved, she thought, the awful difficulty that had confronted + her. She rose suddenly, heartened by the thought. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your cloak and wimple,” she bade Diana, and Diana flew to do her + bidding. “Where is Mr. Wilding lodged?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “At the sign of The Ship—overlooking the Cross, with Mr. Trenchard. + Shall I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Ruth without hesitation. “I will go alone.” She drew the + wimple well over her head, so that in its shadows her face might lie + concealed, and hid her shimmering white dress under Diana's cloak. + </p> + <p> + She hastened through the ill-lighted streets, never heeding the rough + cobbles that hurt her feet, shod in light indoor wear, never heeding the + crowds that thronged her way. All Bridgwater was astir with Monmouth's + presence; moreover, there had been great incursions from Taunton and the + surrounding country, the women-folk of the Duke-King's followers having + come that day to Bridgwater to say farewell to father and son, husband and + brother, before the army marched—as was still believed—to + Gloucester. + </p> + <p> + The half-hour was striking from Saint Mary's—the church in which she + had been married—as Ruth reached the door of the sign of The Ship. + She was about to knock, when suddenly it opened, and Mr. Wilding himself, + with Trenchard immediately behind him, stood confronting her. At sight of + him a momentary weakness took her. He had changed from his hard-used + riding-garments into a suit of roughly corded black silk, which threw into + relief the steely litheness of his spare figure. His dark brown hair was + carefully dressed, diamonds gleamed in the cravat of snowy lace at his + throat. He was uncovered, his hat under his arm, and he stood aside to + make way for her, imagining that she was some woman of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding,” said she, her heart fluttering in her throat. “May I... may + I speak with you?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward, seeking to pierce the shadows of her wimple; he had + thought he recognized the voice, as his sudden start had shown; and yet he + disbelieved his ears. She moved her head at that moment, and the light + streaming out from a lamp in the passage beat upon her white face. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth!” he cried, and came quickly forward. Trenchard, behind him, looked + on and scowled with sudden impatience. Mr. Wilding's philanderings with + this lady had never had the old rake's approval. Too much trouble already + had resulted from them. + </p> + <p> + “I must speak with you at once. At once!” she urged him, her tone fearful. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in need of me?” he asked concernedly. + </p> + <p> + “In very urgent need,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I thank God,” he answered without flippancy. “You shall find me at your + service. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not here; not here,” she answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Where else?” said he. “Shall we walk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” Her repetitions marked the deep excitement that possessed her. + “I will go in with you.” And she signed with her head towards the door + from which he was barely emerged. + </p> + <p> + “'Twere scarce fitting,” said he, for being confused and full of + speculation on the score of her need, he had for the moment almost + overlooked the relations in which they stood. In spite of the ceremony + through which they had gone together, Mr. Wilding still mostly thought of + her as of a mistress very difficult to woo. + </p> + <p> + “Fitting?” she echoed, and then after a pause, “Am I not your wife?” she + asked him in a low voice, her cheeks crimsoning. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! 'Pon honour, I had almost forgot,” said he, and though the burden of + his words seemed mocking, their tone was sad. + </p> + <p> + Of the passers-by that jostled them a couple had now paused to watch a + scene that had an element of the unusual in it. She pulled her wimple + closer to her face, took him by the arm, and drew him with her into the + house. + </p> + <p> + “Close the door,” she bade him, and Trenchard, who had stood aside that + they might pass in, forestalled him in obeying her. “Now lead me to your + room, said she, and Wilding in amaze turned to Trenchard as if asking his + consent, for the lodging, after all, was Trenchard's. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait here,” said Nick, and waved his hand towards an oak bench that + stood in the passage. “You had best make haste,” he urged his friend; “you + are late already. That is, unless you are of a mind to set the lady's + affairs before King Monmouth's. And were I in your place, Anthony, faith + I'd not scruple to do it. For after all,” he added under his breath, + “there's little choice in rotten apples.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth waited for some answer from Wilding that might suggest he was + indifferent whether he went to Newlington's or not; but he spoke no word + as he turned to lead the way above-stairs to the indifferent parlour which + with the adjoining bedroom constituted Mr. Trenchard's lodging—and + his own, for the time being. + </p> + <p> + Having assured herself that the curtains were closely drawn, she put by + her cloak and hood, and stood revealed to him in the light of the three + candles, burning in a branch upon the bare oak table, dazzlingly beautiful + in her gown of ivory-white. + </p> + <p> + He stood apart, cogitating her with glowing eyes, the faintest smile + between question and pleasure hovering about his thin mouth. He had closed + the door, and stood in silence waiting for her to make known to him her + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding...” she began, and straightway he interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “But a moment since you did remind me that I have the honour to be your + husband,” he said with grave humour. “Why seek now to overcloud that fact? + I mind me that the last time we met you called me by another name. But it + may be,” he added as an afterthought, “you are of opinion that I have + broken faith with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Broken faith? As how?” + </p> + <p> + “So!” he said, and sighed. “My words were of so little account that they + have been, I see, forgotten. Yet, so that I remember them, that is what + chiefly matters. I promised then—or seemed to promise—that I + would make a widow of you, who had made a wife of you against your will. + It has not happened yet. Do not despair. This Monmouth quarrel is not yet + fought out. Hope on, my Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with eyes wide open—lustrous eyes of sapphire in a + face of ivory. A faint smile parted her lips, the reflection of the + thought in her mind that had she, indeed, been eager for his death she + would not be with him at this moment; had she desired it, how easy would + her course have been. + </p> + <p> + “You do me wrong to bid me hope for that,” she answered him, her tones + level. “I do not wish the death of any man, unless...” She paused; her + truthfulness urged her too far. + </p> + <p> + “Unless?” said he, brows raised, polite interest on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Unless it be His Grace of Monmouth.” + </p> + <p> + He considered her with suddenly narrowed eyes. “You have not by chance + sought me to talk politics?” said he. “Or...” and he suddenly caught his + breath, his nostrils dilating with rage at the bare thought that leapt + into his mind. Had Monmouth, the notorious libertine, been to Lupton House + and persecuted her with his addresses? “Is it that you are acquainted with + His Grace?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have never spoken to him!” she answered, with no suspicion of what was + in his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + In his relief he laughed, remembering now that Monmouth's affairs were too + absorbing just at present to leave him room for dalliance. + </p> + <p> + “But you are standing,” said he, and he advanced a chair. “I deplore that + I have no better hospitality to offer you. I doubt if I ever shall again. + I am told that Albemarle did me the honour to stable his knackers in my + hall at Zoyland.” + </p> + <p> + She took the chair he offered her, sinking to it like one physically + weary, a thing he was quick to notice. He watched her, his body eager, his + soul trammelling it with a steely restraint. “Tell me, now,” said he, “in + what you need me.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, pondering, hesitation and confusion seeming to + envelop her. A pink flush rose to colour the beautiful pillar of neck and + overspread the delicate half-averted face. He watched it, wondering. + </p> + <p> + “How long,” she asked him, her whole intent at present being to delay him + and gain time. “How long have you been in Bridgwater?” + </p> + <p> + “Two hours at most,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours! And yet you never came to... to me. I heard of your presence, + and I feared you might intend to abstain from seeking me.” + </p> + <p> + He almost held his breath while she spoke, caught in amazement. He was + standing close beside her chair, his right hand rested upon its tall back. + </p> + <p> + “Did you so intend?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I told you even now,” he answered with hard-won calm, “that I had made + you a sort of promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I... I would not have you keep it,” she murmured. She heard his sharply + indrawn breath, felt him leaning over her, and was filled with an + unaccountable fear. + </p> + <p> + “Was it to tell me this you came?” he asked her, his voice reduced to a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “No... yes,” she answered, an agony in her mind, which groped for some + means to keep him by her side until his danger should be overpast. That + much she owed him in honour if in nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “No—yes?” he echoed, and he had drawn himself erect again. “What + is't you mean, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that it was that, yet not quite only that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Disappointment vibrated faintly in his clamation. “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “I would have you abandon Monmouth's following,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + He stared a moment, moved away and round where he could confront her. The + flush had now faded from her face. This he observed and the heave of her + bosom in its low bodice. He knit his brows, perplexed. Here was surely + more than at first might seem. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For your own safety's sake,” she answered him. + </p> + <p> + “You are oddly concerned for that, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “Concerned—not oddly.” She paused an instant, swallowed hard, and + then continued. “I am concerned too for your honour, and there is no + honour in following his banner. He has crowned himself King, and so proved + himself a self-seeker who came dissembled as the champion of a cause that + he might delude poor ignorant folk into flocking to his standard and + helping him to his ambitious ends.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wondrously well schooled,” said he. “Whose teachings do you + recite me? Sir Rowland Blake's?” + </p> + <p> + At another time the sneer might have cut her. At the moment she was too + intent upon gaining time. The means to it mattered little. The more she + talked to no purpose, the more at random was their discourse, the better + would her ends be served. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland Blake?” she cried. “What is he to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what? Let me set you the question rather.” + </p> + <p> + “Less than nothing,” she assured him, and for some moments afterwards it + was this Sir Rowland who served them as a topic for their odd interview. + On the overmantel the pulse of time beat on from a little wooden clock. + His eyes strayed to it; it marked the three-quarters. He bethought him + suddenly of his engagement. Trenchard, below-stairs, supremely indifferent + whether Wilding went to Newlington's or not, smoked on, entirely + unconcerned by the flight of time. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress,” said Wilding suddenly, “you have not yet told me in what you + seek my service. Indeed, we seem to have talked to little purpose. My time + is very short.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she asked him, and fearfully she shot a sidelong + glance at the timepiece. It was still too soon, by at least five minutes. + </p> + <p> + He smiled, but his smile was singular. He began to suspect at last that + her only purpose—to what end he could not guess—was to detain + him. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a singularly sudden interest in my doings, this,” said he quietly. + “What is't you seek of me?” He reached for the hat he had cast upon the + table when they had entered. “Tell me briefly. I may stay no longer.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, her agitation suddenly increasing, afraid that after all he + would escape her. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Answer me that, and I + will tell you why I came.” + </p> + <p> + “I am to sup at Mr. Newlington's in His Majesty's company. + </p> + <p> + “His Majesty's?” + </p> + <p> + “King Monmouth's,” he explained impatiently. “Come, Ruth. Already I am + late.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to ask you not to go,” she said slowly, and she held out her + hands to him, her glance most piteous—and that was not acting—as + she raised it to meet his own, “would you not stay to pleasure me?” + </p> + <p> + He considered her from under frowning eyes. “Ruth,” he said, and he took + her hands, “there is here something that I do not understand. What is't + you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me that you will not go to Newlington's, and I will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has Newlington to do with...? Nay, I am pledged already to go.” + </p> + <p> + She drew closer to him, her hands upon his shoulders. “Yet if I ask you—I, + your wife?” she pleaded, and almost won him to her will. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly he remembered another occasion on which, for purposes of her + own, she had so pleaded. He laughed softly, mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you woo me, Ruth, who, when I wooed you, would have none of me?” + </p> + <p> + She drew back from him, crimsoning. “I think I had better go,” said she. + “You have nothing but mockery for me. It was ever so. Who knows?” she + sighed as she took up her mantle. “Had you but observed more gentle ways, + you... you...” She paused, needing to say no more. “Good-night!” she + ended, and made shift to leave. He watched her, deeply mystified. She had + gained the door when suddenly he moved. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he cried. She paused, and turned to look over her shoulder, her + hand apparently upon the latch. “You shall not go until you have told me + why you besought me to keep away from Newlington's. What is it?” he asked, + and paused suddenly, a flood of light breaking in upon his mind. “Is there + some treachery afoot?” he asked her, and his eye went wildly to the clock. + A harsh, grating sound rang through the room. “What are you doing?” he + cried. “Why have you locked the door?” She was tugging and fumbling + desperately to extract the key, her hands all clumsy in her nervous haste. + He leapt at her, but in that moment the key came away in her hand. She + wheeled round to face him, erect, defiant almost. + </p> + <p> + “Here is some devilry!” he cried. “Give me that key.” + </p> + <p> + He had no need for further questions. Here was a proof more eloquent than + words to his ready wit. Sir Rowland or Richard, or both, were in some plot + for the Duke's ruin—perhaps assassination. Had not her very words + shown that she herself was out of all sympathy with Monmouth? He was out + of sympathy himself. But not to the extent of standing by to see his + throat cut. She would have the plot succeed—whatever it might be and + yet that he himself be spared. There his thoughts paused; but only for a + moment. He saw suddenly in this, not a proof of concern born of love but + of duty towards him who had imperilled himself once—and for all + time, indeed—that he might save her brother and Sir Rowland. + </p> + <p> + He told her what had been so suddenly revealed to him, taxing her with it. + She acknowledged it, her wits battling to find some way by which she might + yet gain a few moments more. She would cling to the key, and though he + should offer her violence, she would not let it go without a struggle, and + that struggle must consume the little time yet wanting to make it too late + for him to save the Duke, and—what imported more—thus save + herself from betraying her brother's trust. Another fear leapt at her + suddenly. If through deed of hers Monmouth was spared that night, Blake, + in his despair and rage, might slake his vengeance upon Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that key,” he demanded, his voice cold and quiet, his face set. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she cried, setting her hand behind her. “You shall not go, + Anthony. You shall not go.” + </p> + <p> + “I must,” he insisted, still cold, but oh! so determined. “My honour's in + it now that I know.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll go to your death,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + He sneered. “What signifies a day or so? Give me the key.” + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Anthony!” she cried, livid to the lips. + </p> + <p> + “Lies!” he answered her contemptuously. “The key!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, and her firmness matched his own. “I will not have you + slain.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis not my purpose—not just yet. But I must save the others. God + forgive me if I offer violence to a woman,” he added, “and lay rude hands + upon her. Do not compel me to it.” He advanced upon her, but she, lithe + and quick, evaded him, and sprang for the middle of the room. He wheeled + about, his self-control all slipping from him now. Suddenly she darted to + the window, and with the hand that clenched the key she smote a pane with + all her might. There was a smash of shivering glass, followed an instant + later by a faint tinkle on the stones below, and the hand that she still + held out covered itself all with blood. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” he cried, the key and all else forgotten. “You are hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are saved,” she cried, overwrought, and staggered, laughing and + sobbing, to a chair, sinking her bleeding hand to her lap, and smearing + recklessly her spotless, shimmering gown. + </p> + <p> + He caught up a chair by its legs, and at a single blow smashed down the + door—a frail barrier after all. “Nick!” he roared. “Nick!” He tossed + the chair from him and vanished into the adjoining room to reappear a + moment later carrying basin and ewer, and a shirt of Trenchard's—the + first piece of linen he could find. + </p> + <p> + She was half fainting, and she let him have his swift, masterful way. He + bathed her hand, and was relieved to find that the injury was none so + great as the flow of blood had made him fear. He tore Trenchard's fine + cambric shirt to shreds—a matter on which Trenchard afterwards + commented in quotations from at least three famous Elizabethan dramatists. + He bound up her hand, just as Nick made his appearance at the splintered + door, his mouth open, his pipe, gone out, between his fingers. He was + followed by a startled serving-wench, the only other person in the house, + for every one was out of doors that night. + </p> + <p> + Into the woman's care Wilding delivered his wife, and without a word to + her he left the room, dragging Trenchard with him. It was striking nine as + they went down the stairs, and the sound brought as much satisfaction to + Ruth above as dismay to Wilding below. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE BANQUET + </h2> + <p> + It was striking nine. Therefore, Ruth thought that she had achieved her + object, Wilding imagined that all was lost. It needed the more tranquil + mind of Nicholas Trenchard to show him the fly in madam's ointment, after + Wilding, in half a dozen words, had made him acquainted with the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “Run to Newlington's and warn the Duke—if still in time.” + </p> + <p> + “And thereby precipitate the catastrophe? Oh, give it thought. It is all + it needs. You are taking it for granted that nine o'clock is the hour + appointed for King Monmouth's butchery.” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” asked Wilding, impatient to be off. + </p> + <p> + They were standing in the street under the sign of The Ship, by which + Jonathan Edney—Mr. Trenchard's landlord—distinguished his + premises and the chandler's trade he drove there. Trenchard set a + detaining hand on Mr. Wilding's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Nine o'clock is the hour appointed for supper. It is odds the Duke will + be a little late, and it is more than odds that when he does arrive, the + assassins will wait until the company is safely at table and lulled by + good eating and drinking. You had overlooked that, I see. It asks an old + head for wisdom, after all. Look you, Anthony. Speed to Colonel Wade as + fast as your legs can carry you, and get a score of men. Then find some + fellow to lead you to Newlington's orchard, and if only you do not arrive + too late you may take Sir Rowland and his cut-throats in the rear and + destroy them to a man before they realize themselves attacked. I'll + reconnoitre while you go, and keep an eye on the front of the house. Away + with you!” + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily Wilding was a man of a certain dignity, but you had not thought + it had you seen him running in silk stockings and silver-buckled shoes at + a headlong pace through the narrow streets of Bridgwater, in the direction + of the Castle. He overset more than one, and oaths followed him from these + and from others whom he rudely jostled out of his path. Wade was gone with + Monmouth, but he came upon Captain Slape, who had a company of scythes and + musketeers incorporated in the Duke's own regiment, and to him Wilding + gasped out the news and his request for a score of men with what breath + was left him. + </p> + <p> + Time was lost—and never was time more precious—in convincing + Slape that this was no old wife's tale. At last, however, he won his way + and twenty musketeers; but the quarter-past the hour had chimed ere they + left the Castle. He led them forth at a sharp run, with never a thought + for the circumstance that they would need their breath anon, perhaps for + fighting, and he bade the man who guided them take them by back streets + that they might attract as little attention as possible. + </p> + <p> + Within a stone's-throw of the house he halted them, and sent one forward + to reconnoitre, following himself with the others as quietly and + noiselessly as possible. Mr. Newlington's house was all alight, but from + the absence of uproar—sounds there were in plenty from the main + street, where a dense throng had collected to see His Majesty go in—Mr. + Wilding inferred with supreme relief that they were still in time. But the + danger was not yet past. Already, perhaps, the assassins were penetrating—or + had penetrated—to the house; and at any moment such sounds might + greet them as would announce the execution of their murderous design. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Trenchard, having relighted his pipe, and set his hat + rakishly atop his golden wig, strolled up the High Street, swinging his + long cane very much like a gentleman taking the air in quest of an + appetite for supper. He strolled past the Cross and on until he came to + the handsome mansion—one of the few handsome houses in Bridgwater—where + opulent Mr. Newlington had his residence. A small crowd had congregated + about the doors, for word had gone forth that His Majesty was to sup + there. Trenchard moved slowly through the people, seemingly uninterested, + but, in fact, scanning closely every face he encountered. Suddenly, out of + the corner of his eye, he espied in the indifferent light Mr. Richard + Westmacott. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard passed him, jostling him as he went, and strolled on some few + paces, then turned, and came slowly back, and observed that Richard had + also turned and was now watching him as he approached. He was all but upon + the boy when suddenly his wrinkled face lighted with recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Westmacott!” he cried, and there was surprise in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Richard, conscious that Trenchard must no doubt regard him as a + turn-tippet, flushed, and stood aside to give passage to the other. But + Mr. Trenchard was by no means minded to pass. He clapped a hand on + Richard's shoulder. “Nay,” he cried, between laughter and feigned + resentment. “Do you bear me ill-will, lad?” + </p> + <p> + Richard was somewhat taken aback. “For what should I bear you ill-will, + Mr. Trenchard?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard laughed frankly, and so uproariously that his hat over-jauntily + cocked was all but shaken from his head. “I mind me the last time we met, + I played you an unfair trick,” said he. His tone bespoke the very highest + good-humour. He slipped his arm through Richard's. “Never bear an old man + malice, lad,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you that I bear you none,” said Richard, relieved to find that + Trenchard apparently knew nothing of his defection, yet wishing that + Trenchard would go his ways, for Richard's task was to stand sentry there. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not believe you till you afford me proof,” Trenchard replied. “You + shall come and wash your resentment down in the best bottle of Canary the + White Cow can furnish us.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, I thank you,” answered Richard. + </p> + <p> + “You are thinking of the last occasion on which I drank with you,” said + Trenchard reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Not so. But... but I am not thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + “Not thirsty?” echoed Trenchard. “And is that a reason? Why, lad, it is + the beast that drinks only when he thirsts. And in that lies one of the + main differences between beast and man. Come on”—and his arm + effected a gentle pressure upon Richard's, to move him thence. But at that + moment, down the street with a great rumble of wheels, cracking of whips + and clatter of hoofs, came a coach, bearing to Mr. Newlington's King + Monmouth escorted by his forty life-guards. Cheering broke from the crowd + as the carriage drew up, and the Duke-King as he alighted turned his + handsome face, on which shone the ruddy glow of torches, to acknowledge + these loyal acclamations. He passed up the steps, at the top of which Mr. + Newlington—fat and pale and monstrously overdressed—stood + bowing to welcome his royal visitor. Host and guest vanished, followed by + some six officers of Monmouth's, among whom were Grey and Wade. The + sight-seers flattened themselves against the walls as the great lumbering + coach put about and went off again the way it had come, the life-guards + following after. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard fancied that he caught a sigh of relief from Richard, but the + street was noisy at the time and he may well have been mistaken. + </p> +<p> +“Come,” said he, renewing his invitation, “we shall both be the better +for a little milk of the White Cow.” + </p> + <p> +Richard wavered almost by instinct. The White Cow, he knew, was +famous for its sack; on the other hand, he was pledged to Sir Rowland +to stand guard in the narrow lane at the back where ran the wall of Mr. +Newlington's garden. Under the gentle suasion of Trenchard's arm, he +moved a few steps up the street; then halted, his duty battling with his +inclination. +</p> + <p> + “No, no,” he muttered. “If you will excuse me...” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” said Trenchard, drawing from his hesitation a shrewd inference as + to Richard's business. “To drink alone is an abomination I'll not be + guilty of.” + </p> + <p> + “But...” began the irresolute Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Shalt urge me no excuses, or we'll quarrel. Come,” and he moved on, + dragging Richard with him. + </p> + <p> + A few steps Richard took unwillingly under the other's soft compulsion; + then, having given the matter thought—he was always one to take the + line of least resistance—he assured himself that his sentryship was + entirely superfluous; the matter of Blake's affair was an entire secret, + shared only by those who had a hand in it. Blake was quite safe from all + surprises; Trenchard was insistent and it was difficult to deny him; and + the sack at the White Cow was no doubt the best in Somerset. He gave + himself up to the inevitable and fell into step alongside his companion + who babbled aimlessly of trivial matters. Trenchard felt the change from + unwilling to willing companionship, and approved it. + </p> + <p> + They mounted the three steps and entered the common room of the inn. It + was well thronged at the time, but they found places at the end of a long + table, and there they sat and discussed the landlady's Canary for the best + part of a half-hour, until a sudden spatter of musketry, near at hand, + came to startle the whole room. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary stillness in the tavern, succeeded by an excited + clamouring, a dash for the windows and a storm of questions, to which none + could return any answer. Richard had risen with a sudden exclamation, very + pale and scared of aspect. Trenchard tugged at his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said he. “Sit down. It will be nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” echoed Richard, and his eyes were suddenly bent on Trenchard in + a look in which suspicion was now blent with terror. + </p> + <p> + A second volley of musketry crackled forth at that moment, and the next + the whole street was in an uproar. Men were running and shots resounded on + every side, above all of which predominated the cry that His Majesty was + murdered. + </p> + <p> + In an instant the common room of the White Cow was emptied of every + occupant save two—Trenchard and Westmacott. Neither of them felt the + need to go forth in quest of news. They knew how idle was the cry in the + streets. They knew what had taken place, and knowing it, Trenchard smoked + on placidly, satisfied that Wilding had been in time, whilst Richard stood + stricken and petrified by dismay at realizing, with even greater + certainty, that something had supervened to thwart, perhaps to destroy, + Sir Rowland. For he knew that Blake's party had gone forth armed with + pistols only, and intent not to use even these save in the last extremity; + to avoid noise they were to keep to steel. This knowledge gave Richard + positive assurance that the volleys they had heard must have been fired by + some party that had fallen upon Blake's men and taken them by surprise. + </p> + <p> + And it was his fault! He was the traitor to whom perhaps a score of men + owed their deaths at that moment! He had failed to keep watch as he had + undertaken. His fault it was—No! not his, but this villain's who sat + there smugly taking his ease and pulling at his pipe. + </p> + <p> + At a blow Richard dashed the thing from his companion's mouth and fingers. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard looked up startled. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil...?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “It is your fault, your fault!” cried Richard, his eyes blazing, his lips + livid. “It was you who lured me hither.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard stared at him in bland surprise. “Now, what a plague is't you're + saying?” he asked, and brought Richard to his senses by awaking in him the + instinct of self-preservation. + </p> + <p> + How could he explain his meaning without betraying himself?—and + surely that were a folly, now that the others were no doubt disposed of. + Let him, rather, bethink him of his own safety. Trenchard looked at him + keenly, with well-assumed intent to read what might be passing in his + mind, then rose, paid for the wine, and expressed his intention of going + forth to inquire into these strange matters that were happening in + Bridgwater. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, those volleys fired in Mr. Newlington's orchard had caused—as + well may be conceived—an agitated interruption of the superb feast + Mr. Newlington had spread for his noble and distinguished guests. The Duke + had for some days been going in fear of his life, for already he had been + fired at more than once by men anxious to earn the price at which his head + was valued; instantly he surmised that whatever that firing might mean, it + indicated some attempt to surprise him with the few gentlemen who attended + him. + </p> + <p> + The whole company came instantly to its feet, and Colonel Wade stepped to + a window that stood open—for the night was very warm. The Duke + turned for explanation to his host; the trader, however, professed himself + entirely unable to offer any. He was very pale and his limbs were visibly + trembling, but then his agitation was most natural. His wife and daughter + supervened at that moment, in their alarm entering the room + unceremoniously, in spite of the august presence, to inquire into the + meaning of this firing, and to reassure themselves that their father and + his illustrious guests were safe. + </p> + <p> + From the windows they could observe a stir in the gardens below. Black + shadows of men flitted to and fro, and a loud, rich voice was heard + calling to them to take cover, that they were betrayed. Then a sheet of + livid flame blazed along the summit of the low wall, and a second volley + of musketry rang out, succeeded by cries and screams from the assailed and + the shouts of the assailers who were now pouring into the garden through + the battered doorway and over the wall. For some moments steel rang on + steel, and pistol-shots cracked here and there to the accompaniment of + voices, raised some in anger, some in pain. But it was soon over, and a + comparative stillness succeeded. + </p> + <p> + A voice called up from the darkness under the windows to know if His + Majesty was safe. There had been a plot to take him; but the ambuscaders + had been ambuscaded in their turn, and not a man of them remained—which + was hardly exact, for under a laurel bush, scarce daring to breathe, lay + Sir Rowland Blake, livid with fear and fury, and bleeding from a rapier + scratch in the cheek, but otherwise unhurt. + </p> + <p> + In the room above, Monmouth had sunk wearily into his chair upon hearing + of the design there had been against his life. A deep, bitter melancholy + enwrapped his spirit. Lord Grey's first thoughts flew to the man he most + disliked—the one man missing from those who had been bidden to + accompany His Majesty, whose absence had already formed the subject of + comment. Grey remembered this bearing before the council that same + evening, and his undisguised resentment of the reproaches levelled against + him. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Wilding?” he asked suddenly, his voice dominating the din of + talk that filled the room. “Do we hold the explanation of his absence?” + </p> + <p> + Monmouth looked up quickly, his beautiful eyes ineffably sad, his weak + mouth drooping at the corners. Wade turned to confront Grey. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship does not suggest that Mr. Wilding can have a hand in this?” + </p> + <p> + “Appearances would seem to point in that direction,” answered Grey, and in + his wicked heart he almost hoped it might be so. + </p> + <p> + “Then appearances speak truth for once,” came a bitter, ringing voice. + They turned, and there on the threshold stood Mr. Wilding. Unheard he had + come upon them. He was bareheaded and carried his drawn sword. There was + blood upon it, and there was blood on the lace that half concealed the + hand that held it; otherwise—and saving that his shoes and stockings + were sodden with the dew from the long grass in the orchard—he was + as spotless as when he had left Ruth in Trenchard's lodging; his face, + too, was calm, save for the mocking smile with which he eyed Lord Grey. + </p> + <p> + Monmouth rose on his appearance, and put his hand to his sword in alarm. + Grey whipped his own from the scabbard, and placed himself slightly in + front of his master as if to preserve him. + </p> + <p> + “You mistake, sirs,” said Wilding quietly. “The hand I have had in this + affair has been to save Your Majesty from your enemies. At the moment I + should have joined you, word was brought me of the plot that was laid, of + the trap that was set for you. I hastened to the Castle and obtained a + score of musketeers of Slape's company. With those I surprised the + murderers lurking in the garden there, and made an end of them. I greatly + feared I should not come in time; but it is plain that Heaven preserves + Your Majesty for better days.” + </p> + <p> + In the revulsion of feeling, Monmouth's eyes shone moist. Grey sheathed + his sword with an awkward laugh, and a still more awkward word of apology + to Wilding. The Duke, moved by a sudden impulse to make amends for his + unworthy suspicions, for his perhaps unworthy reception of Wilding earlier + that evening in the council-room, drew the sword on which his hand still + rested. He advanced a step. + </p> + <p> + “Kneel, Mr. Wilding,” he said in a voice stirred by emotion. But Wilding's + stern spirit scorned this all too sudden friendliness of Monmouth's as + much as he scorned the accolade at Monmouth's hands. + </p> + <p> + “There are more pressing matters to demand Your Majesty's attention,” said + Mr. Wilding coldly, advancing to the table as he spoke, and taking up a + napkin to wipe his blade, “than the reward of an unworthy servant.” + </p> + <p> + Monmouth felt his sudden enthusiasm chilled by that tone and manner. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Newlington,” said Mr. Wilding, after the briefest of pauses, and the + fat, sinful merchant started forward in alarm. It was like a summons of + doom. “His Majesty came hither, I am informed, to receive at your hands a + sum of money—twenty thousand pounds—towards the expenses of + the campaign. Have you the money at hand?” And his eye, glittering between + cruelty and mockery, fixed itself upon the merchant's ashen face. + </p> + <p> + “It... it shall be forthcoming by morning,” stammered Newlington. + </p> + <p> + “By morning?” cried Grey, who, with the others, watched Mr. Newlington + what time they all wondered at Mr. Wilding's question and the manner of + it. + </p> + <p> + “You knew that I march to-night,” Monmouth reproached the merchant. + </p> + <p> + “And it was to receive the money that you invited His Majesty to do you + the honours of supping with you here,” put in Wade, frowning darkly. + </p> + <p> + The merchant's wife and daughter stood beside him watching him, and + plainly uneasy. Before he could make any reply, Mr. Wilding spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “The circumstance that he has not the money by him is a little odd—or + would be were it not for what has happened. I would submit, Your Majesty, + that you receive from Mr. Newlington not twenty thousand pounds as he had + promised you, but thirty thousand, and that you receive it not as a loan + as was proposed, but as a fine imposed upon him in consequence of... his + lack of care in the matter of his orchard.” + </p> + <p> + Monmouth looked at the merchant very sternly. “You have heard Mr. + Wilding's suggestion,” said he. “You may thank the god of traitors it was + made, else we might have thought of a harsher course. You shall pay the + money by ten o'clock to-morrow to Mr. Wilding, whom I shall leave behind + for the sole purpose of collecting it.” He turned from Newlington in plain + disgust. “I think, sirs, that here is no more to be done. Are the streets + safe, Mr. Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + “Not only safe, Your Majesty, but the twenty men of Slape's and your own + life-guards are waiting to escort you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then in God's name let us be going,” said Monmouth, sheathing his sword + and moving towards the door. Not a second time did he offer to confer the + honour of knighthood upon his saviour. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding turned and went out to marshal his men. The Duke and his + officers followed more leisurely. As they reached the door, a woman's cry + broke the silence behind them. Monmouth turned. Mr. Newlington, purple of + face and his eyes protruding horridly, was beating the air with his hands. + Suddenly he collapsed, and crashed forward with arms flung out amid the + glass and silver of the table all spread with the traitor's banquet to + which he had bidden his unsuspecting victim. + </p> + <p> + His wife and daughter ran to him and called him by name, Monmouth pausing + a moment to watch them from the doorway with eyes unmoved. But Mr. + Newlington answered not their call, for he was dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE RECKONING + </h2> + <p> + Ruth had sped home through the streets unattended, as she had come, + heedless of the rude jostlings and ruder greetings she met with from those + she passed; heedless, too, of the smarting of her injured hand, for the + agony of her soul was such that it whelmed all minor sufferings of the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room at Lupton House she came upon Diana and Lady Horton at + supper, and her appearance—her white and distraught face and + blood-smeared gown—brought both women to their feet in alarmed + inquiry, no less than it brought Jasper, the butler, to her side with + ready solicitude. Ruth answered him that there was no cause for fear, that + she was quite well—had scratched her hand, no more; and with that + dismissed him. When she was alone with her aunt and cousin, she sank into + a chair and told them what had passed 'twixt her husband and herself and + most of what she said was Greek to Lady Horton. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding has gone to warn the Duke,” she ended, and the despair of her + tone was tragical. “I sought to detain him until it should be too late—I + thought I had done so, but... but... Oh, I am afraid, Diana!” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid of what?” asked Diana. “Afraid of what?” + </p> + <p> + And she came to Ruth and set an arm in comfort about her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid that Mr. Wilding might reach the Duke in time to be destroyed with + him,” her cousin answered. “Such a warning could but hasten on the blow.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Horton begged to be enlightened, and was filled with horror when—from + Diana—enlightenment was hers. Her sympathies were all with the + handsome Monmouth, for he was beautiful and should therefore be + triumphant; poor Lady Horton never got beyond externals. That her nephew + and Sir Rowland, whom she had esteemed, should be leagued in this + dastardly undertaking against that lovely person horrified her beyond + words. She withdrew soon afterwards, having warmly praised Ruth's action + in warning Mr. Wilding—unable to understand that it should be no + part of Ruth's design to save the Duke—and went to her room to pray + for the preservation of the late King's handsome son. + </p> + <p> + Left alone with her cousin, Ruth gave expression to the fears for Richard + by which she was being tortured. Diana poured wine for her and urged her + to drink; she sought to comfort and reassure her. But as moments passed + and grew to hours and still Richard did not appear, Ruth's fears that he + had come to harm were changed to certainty. There was a moment when, but + for Diana's remonstrances, she had gone forth in quest of news. Bad news + were better than this horror of suspense. What if Wilding's warning should + have procured help, and Richard were slain in consequence? Oh, it was + unthinkable! Diana, white of face, listened to and shared her fears. Even + her shallow nature was stirred by the tragedy of Ruth's position, by dread + lest Richard should indeed have met his end that night. In these moments + of distress, she forgot her hopes of triumphing over Blake, of punishing + him for his indifference to herself. + </p> + <p> + At last, at something after midnight, there came a fevered rapping at the + outer door. Both women started up, and with arms about each other, in + their sudden panic, stood there waiting for the news that must be here at + last. + </p> + <p> + The door of the dining-room was flung open; the women recoiled in their + dread of what might come; then Richard entered, Jasper's startled + countenance showing behind him. + </p> + <p> + He closed the door, shutting out the wondering servant, and they saw that, + though his face was ashen and his limbs all a-tremble, he showed no sign + of any hurt or effort. His dress was as meticulous as when last they had + seen him. Ruth flew to him, flung her arms about his neck, and pressed him + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Richard, Richard!” she sobbed in the immensity of her relief. “Thank + God! Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + He wriggled peevishly in her embrace, disengaged her arms, and put her + from him almost roughly. “Have done!” he growled, and, lurching past her, + he reached the table, took up a bottle, and brimmed himself a measure. He + gulped the wine avidly, set down the cup, and shivered. “Where is Blake?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Blake?” echoed Ruth, her lips white. Diana sank into a chair, watchful, + fearful and silent, taking now no glory in the thing she had encompassed. + </p> + <p> + Richard beat his hands together in a passion of dismay. “Is he not here?” + he asked, and groaned, “O God!” He flung himself all limp into a chair. + “You have heard the news, I see,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Not all of it,” said Diana hoarsely, leaning forward. “Tell us what + passed.” + </p> + <p> + He moistened his lips with his tongue. “We were betrayed,” he said in a + quivering voice. “Betrayed! Did I but know by whom...” He broke off with a + bitter laugh and shrugged, rubbing his hands together and shivering till + his shoulders shook. “Blake's party was set upon by half a company of + musketeers. Their corpses are strewn about old Newlington's orchard. Not + one of them escaped. They say that Newlington himself is dead.” He poured + himself more wine. + </p> + <p> + Ruth listened, her eyes burning, the rest of her as cold as ice. + “But...but... oh, thank God that you at least are safe, Dick!” + </p> + <p> + “How did you escape?” quoth Diana. + </p> + <p> + “How?” He started as if he had been stung. He laughed in a high, cracked + voice, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “How? Perhaps it is just as well that + Blake has gone to his account. Perhaps...” He checked on the word, and + started to his feet; Diana screamed in sheer affright. Behind her the + windows had been thrust open so violently that one of the panes was + shivered. Blake stood under the lintel, scarce recognizable, so smeared + was his face with the blood escaping from the wound his cheek had taken. + His clothes were muddied, soiled, torn, and disordered. + </p> + <p> + Framed there against the black background of the night, he stood and + surveyed them for a moment, his aspect terrific. Then he leapt forward, + baring his sword as he came. An incoherent roar burst from his lips as he + bore straight down upon Richard. + </p> + <p> + “You damned, infernal traitor!” he cried. “Draw, draw! Or die like the + muckworm that you are.” + </p> + <p> + Intrepid, her terror all vanished now that there was the need for courage, + Ruth confronted him, barring his passage, a buckler to her palsied + brother. + </p> + <p> + “Out of my way, mistress, or I'll be doing you a mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad, Sir Rowland,” she told him in a voice that did something + towards restoring him to his senses. + </p> + <p> + His fierce eyes considered her a moment, and he controlled himself to + offer an explanation. “The twenty that were with me lie stark under the + stars in Newlington's garden,” he told her, as Richard had told her + already. “I escaped by a miracle, no less, but for what? Feversham will + demand of me a stern account of those lives, whilst if I am found in + Bridgwater there will be a short shrift for me at the rebel hands—for + my share in this affair is known, my name on every lip in the town. And + why?” he asked with a sudden increase of fierceness. “Why? Because that + craven villain there betrayed me.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not,” she answered in so assured a voice that not only did it give + him pause, but caused Richard, cowering behind her, to raise his head in + wonder. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland smiled his disbelief, and that smile, twisting his + blood-smeared countenance, was grotesque and horrible. “I left him to + guard our backs and give me warning if any approached,” he informed her. + “I knew him for too great a coward to be trusted in the fight; so I gave + him a safe task, and yet in that he failed me-failed me because he had + betrayed and sold me.” + </p> + <p> + “He had not. I tell you he had not,” she insisted. “I swear it.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her. “There was no one else for it,” he made answer, and bade + her harshly stand aside. + </p> + <p> + Diana, huddled together, watched and waited in horror for the end of these + consequences of her work. + </p> + <p> + Blake made a sudden movement to win past Ruth. Richard staggered to his + feet intent on defending himself; but he was swordless; retreat to the + door suggested itself, and he had half turned to attempt to gain it, when + Ruth's next words arrested him, petrified him. + </p> + <p> + “There was some one else for it, Sir Rowland,” she cried. “It was not + Richard who betrayed you. It... it was I.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” The fierceness seemed all to drop away from him, whelmed in the + immensity of his astonishment. “You?” Then he laughed loud in scornful + disbelief. “You think to save him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Should I lie?” she asked him, calm and brave. + </p> + <p> + He stared at her stupidly; he passed a hand across his brow, and looked at + Diana. “Oh, it is impossible!” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear,” she answered, and told him how at the last moment she + had learnt not only that her husband was in Bridgwater, but that he was to + sup at Newlington's with the Duke's party. + </p> + <p> + “I had no thought of betraying you or of saving the Duke,” she said. “I + knew how justifiable was what you intended. But I could not let Mr. + Wilding go to his death. I sought to detain him, warning him only when I + thought it would be too late for him to warn others. But you delayed + overlong, and...” + </p> + <p> + A hoarse inarticulate cry from him came to interrupt her at that point. + One glimpse of his face she had and of the hand half raised with sword + pointing towards her, and she closed her eyes, thinking that her sands + were run. And, indeed, Blake's intention was just then to kill her. That + he should owe his betrayal to her was in itself cause enough to enrage + him, but that her motive should have been her desire to save Wilding—Wilding + of all men!—that was the last straw. + </p> + <p> + Had he been forewarned that Wilding was to be one of Monmouth's party at + Mr. Newlington's, his pulses would have throbbed with joy, and he would + have flung himself into his murderous task with twice the zest he had + carried to it. And now he learnt that not only had she thwarted his + schemes against Monmouth, but had deprived him of the ardently sought + felicity of widowing her. He drew back his arm for the thrust; Diana + huddled into her chair too horror-stricken to speak or move: Richard—immediately + behind his sister—saw nothing of what was passing, and thought of + nothing but his own safety. + </p> + <p> + Then Blake paused, stepped back, returned his sword to its scabbard, and + bending himself—but whether to bow or not was not quite plain—he + took some paces backwards, then turned and went out by the window as he + had come. But there was a sudden purposefulness in the way he did it that + might have warned them this withdrawal was not quite the retreat it + seemed. + </p> + <p> + They watched him with many emotions, predominant among which was relief, + and when he was gone Diana rose and came to Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, and sought to lead her from the room. + </p> + <p> + But there was Richard now to be reckoned with, Richard from whom the palsy + was of a sudden fallen, now that the cause of it had withdrawn. He had his + back to the door, and his weak mouth was pursed up into a semblance of + resolution, his pale eyes looked stern, his white eyebrows bent together + in a frown. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” he said. They looked at him, and the shadow of a smile almost + flitted across Diana's face. He stepped to the door, and, opening it, held + it wide. “Go, Diana,” he said. “Ruth and I must understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + Diana hesitated. “You had better go, Diana,” said her cousin, whereupon + Mistress Horton went. + </p> + <p> + Hot and fierce came the recriminations from Richard's lips when he and his + sister were alone, and Ruth weathered the storm bravely until it was + stemmed again by fresh fear in Richard. For Blake had suddenly reappeared. + He came forward from his window; his manner composed and full of + resolution. Young Westmacott recoiled, the heat all frozen out of him. But + Blake scarce looked at him, his smouldering glance was all for Ruth, who + watched him with incipient fear, despite herself. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “'tis not to be supposed a mind holding so much thought + for a husband's safety could find room for any concern as to another's. I + will ask you, natheless, to consider what tale I am to bear Lord + Feversham.” + </p> + <p> + “What tale?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—that will account for what has chanced; for my failure to + discharge the task entrusted me, and for the slaughter of an officer of + his and twenty men. + </p> + <p> + “Why ask me this?” she demanded half angrily; then suddenly bethinking her + of how she had ruined his enterprise, and of the position in which she had + placed him, she softened. Her clear mind held justice very dear. She + approached. “Oh, I am sorry—sorry, Sir Rowland,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He sneered. He had wiped some of the blood from his face, but still looked + terrible enough. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry!” said he, and laughed unpleasantly. “You'll come with me to + Feversham and tell him what you did,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I?” She recoiled in fear. + </p> + <p> + “At once” he informed her. + </p> + <p> + “Wha... what's that?” faltered Richard, calling up his manhood, and coming + forward. “What are you saying, Blake?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland disdained to heed him. “Come, mistress,” he said, and putting + forward his hand he caught her wrist and pulled her roughly towards him. + She struggled to free herself, but he leered evilly upon her, no whit + discomposed by her endeavours. Though short of stature, he was a man of + considerable bodily strength, and she, though tall, was slight of frame. + He released her wrist, and before she realized what he was about he had + stooped, passed an arm behind her knees, another round her waist, and, + swinging her from her feet, took her up bodily in his arms. He turned + about, and a scream broke from her. + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” cried Richard. “Hold, you madman!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep off, or I'll make an end of you before I go,” roared Blake over his + shoulder, for already he had turned about and was making for the window, + apparently no more hindered by his burden than had she been a doll. + </p> + <p> + Richard sprang to the door. “Jasper!” he bawled. “Jasper!” He had no + weapons, as we have seen, else it may be that he had made an attempt to + use them. + </p> + <p> + Ruth got a hand free and caught at the windowframe as Blake was leaping + through. It checked their progress, but did not sensibly delay it. It was + unfortunately her wounded hand with which she had sought to cling, and + with an angry, brutal wrench Sir Rowland compelled her to unclose her + grasp. He sped down the lawn towards the orchard, where his horse was + tethered. And now she knew in a subconscious sort of way why he had + earlier withdrawn. He had gone to saddle for this purpose. + </p> + <p> + She struggled now, thinking that he would be too hampered to compel her to + his will. He became angry, and set her down beside his horse, one arm + still holding her. + </p> + <p> + “Look you, mistress,” he told her fiercely, “living or dead, you come with + me to Feversham. Choose now.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was such that she never doubted he would carry out his threat. + And so in dull despair she submitted, hoping that Feversham might be a + gentleman and would recognize and respect a lady. Half fainting, she + allowed him to swing her to the withers of his horse. Thus they threaded + their way in the dim starlit night through the trees towards the gate. + </p> + <p> + It stood open, and they passed out into the lane. There Sir Rowland put + his horse to the trot, which he increased to a gallop when he was over the + bridge and clear of the town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE SENTENCE + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Wilding, as we know, was to remain at Bridgwater for the purpose of + collecting from Mr. Newlington the fine which had been imposed upon him. + It is by no means clear whether Monmouth realized the fullness of the + tragedy at the merchant's house, and whether he understood that, stricken + with apoplexy at the thought of parting with so considerable a portion of + his fortune, Mr. Newlington had not merely fainted, but had expired under + His Grace's eyes. If he did realize it he was cynically indifferent, and + lest we should be doing him an injustice by assuming this we had better + give him the benefit of the doubt, and take it that in the subsequent + bustle of departure, his mind filled with the prospect of the night attack + to be delivered upon his uncle's army at-Sedgemoor, he thought no more + either of Mr. Newlington or of Mr. Wilding. The latter, as we know, had no + place in the rebel army; although a man of his hands, he was not a trained + soldier, and notwithstanding that he may fully have intended to draw his + sword for Monmouth when the time came, yet circumstances had led to his + continuing after Monmouth's landing the more diplomatic work of + movement-man, in which he had been engaged for the months that had + preceded it. + </p> + <p> + So it befell that when Monmouth's army marched out of Bridgwater at eleven + o'clock on that Sunday night, not to make for Gloucester and Cheshire, as + was generally believed, but to fall upon the encamped Feversham at + Sedgemoor and slaughter the royal army in their beds, Mr. Wilding was left + behind. Trenchard was gone, in command of his troop of horse, and Mr. + Wilding had for only company his thoughts touching the singular happenings + of that busy night. + </p> + <p> + He went back to the sign of The Ship overlooking the Cross, and, kicking + off his sodden shoes, he supped quietly in the room of which shattered + door and broken window reminded him of his odd interview with Ruth, and of + the comedy of love she had enacted to detain him there. The thought of it + embittered him; the part she had played seemed to his retrospective mind + almost a wanton's part—for all that in name she was his wife. And + yet, underlying a certain irrepressible nausea, came the reflection that, + after all, her purpose had been to save his life. It would have been a + sweet thought, sweet enough to have overlaid that other bitterness, had he + not insisted upon setting it down entirely to her gratitude and her sense + of justice. She intended to repay the debt in which she had stood to him + since, at the risk of his own life and fortune, he had rescued her brother + from the clutches of the Lord-Lieutenant at Taunton. + </p> + <p> + He sighed heavily as he thought of the results that had attended his + compulsory wedding of her. In the intensity of his passion, in the + blindness of his vanity, which made him confident—gloriously + confident—that did he make himself her husband, she herself would + make of him her lover before long, he had committed an unworthiness of + which it seemed he might never cleanse himself in life. There was but one + amend, as he had told her. Let him make it, and perhaps she would—out + of gratitude, if out of no other feeling—come to think more kindly + of him; and that night it seemed to him as he sat alone in that mean + chamber that it were a better and a sweeter thing to earn some measure of + her esteem by death than to continue in a life that inspired her hatred + and resentment. From which it will be seen how utterly he disbelieved the + protestations she had uttered in seeking to detain him. They were—he + was assured—a part of a scheme, a trick, to lull him while Monmouth + and his officers were being butchered. And she had gone the length of + saying she loved him! He regretted that, being as he was convinced of its + untruth. What cause had she to love him? She hated him, and because she + hated him she did not scruple to lie to him—once with suggestions + and this time with actual expression of affection—that she might + gain her ends: ends that concerned her brother and Sir Rowland Blake. Sir + Rowland Blake! The name was a very goad to his passion and despair. + </p> + <p> + He rose from the table and took a turn in the room, moving noiselessly in + his stockinged feet. He felt the need of air and action; the weariness of + his flesh incurred in his long ride from London was cast off or forgotten. + He must go forth. He picked up his fine shoes of Spanish leather, but as + luck would have it—little though he guessed the extent just then—he + found them hardening, though still damp from the dews of Mr. Newlington's + garden. He cast them aside, and, taking a key from his pocket, unlocked an + oak cupboard and withdrew the heavy muddy boots in which he had ridden + from town. He drew them on and, taking up his hat and sword, went down the + creaking stairs and out into the street. + </p> + <p> + Bridgwater had fallen quiet by now; the army was gone and townsfolk were + in their beds. Moodily, unconsciously, yet as if guided by a sort of + instinct, he went down the High Street, and then turned off into the + narrower lane that led in the direction of Lupton House. By the gates of + this he paused, recalled out of his abstraction and rendered aware of + whither his steps had led him by the sight of the hall door standing open, + a black figure silhouetted against the light behind it. What was happening + here? Why were they not abed like all decent folk? + </p> + <p> + The figure called to him in a quavering voice. “Mr. Wilding! Mr. Wilding!” + for the light beating upon his face and figure from the open door had + revealed him. The form came swiftly forward, its steps pattering down the + walk, another slenderer figure surged in its place upon the threshold, + hovered there an instant, then plunged down into the darkness to come + after it. But the first was by now upon Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Jasper?” he asked, recognizing the old servant. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Ruth!” wailed the fellow, wringing his hands. “She... she has + been... carried off.” He got it out in gasps, winded by his short run and + by the excitement that possessed him. + </p> + <p> + No word said Wilding. He just stood and stared, scarcely understanding, + and in that moment they were joined by Richard. He seized Wilding by the + arm. “Blake has carried her off,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Blake?” said Mr. Wilding, and wondered with a sensation of nausea was it + an ordinary running away. But Richard's next words made it plain to him + that it was no amorous elopement, nor even amorous abduction. + </p> + <p> + “He has carried her to Feversham... for her betrayal of his to-night's + plan to seize the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + That stirred Mr. Wilding. He wasted no time in idle questions or idler + complainings. “How long since?” he asked, and it was he who clutched + Richard now, by the shoulder and with a hand that hurt. + </p> + <p> + “Not ten minutes ago,” was the quavering answer. + </p> + <p> + “And you were at hand when it befell?” cried Wilding, the scorn in his + voice rising superior to his agitation and fears for Ruth. “You were at + hand, and could neither prevent nor follow him?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go with you now, if you'll give chase,” whimpered Richard, feeling + himself for once the craven that he was. + </p> + <p> + “If?” echoed Wilding scornfully, and dragged him past the gate and up + towards the house even as he spoke. “Is there room for a doubt of it? Have + you horses, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “To spare,” said Richard as they hurried on. They skirted the house and + found the stable door open as Blake had left it. Old Jasper followed with + a lamp which burned steadily, so calm was the air of that July night. In + three minutes they had saddled a couple of nags; in five they were riding + for the bridge and the road to Weston Zoyland. + </p> + <p> + “It is a miracle you remained in Bridgwater,” said Richard as they rode. + “How came you to be left behind?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a task assigned me in the town against the Duke's return + to-morrow,” Wilding explained, and he spoke almost mechanically, his mind + full of—anguished by—thoughts of Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Against the Duke's return?” cried Richard, first surprised and then + thinking that Wilding spoke at random. “Against the Duke's return?” he + repeated. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I said?” + </p> + <p> + “But the Duke is marching to Gloucester.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duke is marching by circuitous ways to Sedgemoor,” answered Wilding, + never dreaming that at this time of day there could be the slightest + imprudence in saying so much, indeed, taking little heed of what he said, + his mind obsessed by the other, to him, far weightier matter. + </p> + <p> + “To Sedgemoor?” gasped Westmacott. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—to take Feversham by surprise—to destroy King James's + soldiers in their beds. He should be near upon the attack by now. But + there! Spur on and save your breath if we are to overtake Sir Rowland.” + </p> + <p> + They pounded on through the night at a breakneck pace which they never + slackened until, when within a quarter of a mile or so of Penzoy Pound, + where the army was encamped and slumbering by now, they caught sight of + the musketeers' matches glowing in the dark ahead of them. An outpost + barred their progress; but Richard had the watchword, and he spurred ahead + shouting “Albemarle,” and the soldiers fell back and gave them passage. On + they galloped, skirting Penzoy Pound and the army sleeping in utter + unconsciousness of the fate that was creeping stealthily upon it out of + the darkness and mists across the moors; they clattered on past Langmoor + Stone and dashed straight into the village, Richard never drawing rein + until he reached the door of the cottage where Feversham was lodged. + </p> + <p> + They had come not only at a headlong pace, but in a headlong manner, + without quite considering what awaited them at the end of their ride in + addition to their object of finding Ruth. It was only now, as he drew rein + before the lighted house and caught the sound of Blake's raised voice + pouring through an open window on the ground floor, that Richard fully + realized what manner of rashness he was committing. He was too late to + rescue Ruth from Blake. What more could he look to achieve? His hope had + been that with Wilding's help he might snatch her from Sir Rowland before + the latter reached his destination. But now—to enter Feversham's + presence and in association with so notorious a rebel as Mr. Wilding were + a piece of folly of the heroic kind that Richard did not savour. Indeed, + had it not been for Wilding's masterful presence, it is more than odds he + had turned tail, and ridden home again to bed. + </p> + <p> + But Wilding, who had leapt nimbly to the ground, stood waiting for Richard + to dismount, impatient now that from the sound of Sir Rowland's voice he + had assurance that Richard had proved an able guide. The young man got + down, but might yet have hesitated had not Wilding caught him by the arm + and whirled him up the steps, through the open door, past the two soldiers + who kept it, and who were too surprised to stay him, straight into the + long, low-ceilinged chamber where Feversham, attended by a captain of + horse, was listening to Blake's angry narrative of that night's failure. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding's entrance was decidedly sensational. He stepped quickly + forward, and, taking Blake who was still talking, all unconscious of those + behind him, by the collar of his coat, he interrupted him in the middle of + an impassioned period, wrenched him backwards off his feet, and dashed him + with a force almost incredible into a heap in a corner of the room. There + for some moments the baronet lay half dazed by the shock of his fall. + </p> + <p> + A long table, which seemed to divide the chamber in two, stood between + Lord Feversham and his officer and Mr. Wilding and Ruth—by whose + side he had now come to stand in Blake's room. + </p> + <p> + There was an exclamation, half anger, half amazement, at Mr. Wilding's + outrage upon Sir Rowland, and the captain of horse sprang forward. But + Wilding raised his hand, his face so composed and calm that it was + impossible to think him conceiving any violence, as indeed he protested at + that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Be assured, gentlemen,” he said, “that I have no further rudeness to + offer any so that this lady is suffered to withdraw with me.” And he took + in his own a hand that Ruth, amazed and unresisting, yielded up to him. + That touch of his seemed to drive out her fears and to restore her + confidence; the mortal terror in which she had been until his coming + dropped from her now. She was no longer alone and abandoned to the + vindictiveness of rude and violent men. She had beside her one in whom + experience had taught her to have faith. + </p> + <p> + Louis Duras, Marquis de Blanquefort, and Earl of Feversham, coughed with + mock discreetness under cover of his hand. “Ahem!” + </p> + <p> + He was a comely man with a long nose, good low-lidded eyes, a humorous + mouth, and a weak chin; at a glance he looked what he was, a weak, + good-natured sensualist. He was resplendent at the moment in a blue satin + dressing-gown stiff with gold lace, for he had been interrupted by Blake's + arrival in the very act of putting himself to bed, and his head—divested + of his wig—was bound up in a scarf of many colours. + </p> + <p> + At his side, the red-coated captain, arrested by the general's sardonic + cough, stood, a red-faced, freckled boy, looking to his superior for + orders. + </p> + <p> + “I t'ink you 'ave 'urt Sare Rowland,” said Feversham composedly in his bad + English. “Who are you, sare?” + </p> + <p> + “This lady's husband,” answered Wilding, whereupon the captain stared and + Feversham's brows went up in surprised amusement. + </p> + <p> + “So-ho! T'at true?” quoth the latter in a tone suggesting that it + explained everything to him. “T'is gif a differen' colour to your story, + Sare Rowlan'.” Then he added in a chuckle, “Ho, ho—l'amour!” and + laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + Blake, gathering together his wits and his limbs at the same time, made + shift to rise. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague does their relationship matter?” he began. He would have + added more, but the Frenchman thought this question one that needed + answering. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu!” he swore, his amusement rising. “It seem to matter somet'ing.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn me!” swore Blake, red in the face from pale that he had been. “Do + you conceive that if I had run away with his wife for her own sake I had + fetched her to you?” He lurched forward as he spoke, but kept his distance + from Wilding, who stood between Ruth and him. + </p> + <p> + Feversham bowed sardonically. “You are a such flatterer, Sare Rowlan',” + said he, laughter bubbling in his words. + </p> + <p> + Blake looked his scorn of this trivial Frenchman, who, upon scenting what + appeared to be the comedy of an outraged husband overtaking the man who + had carried off his wife, forgot the serious business, a part of which Sir + Rowland had already imparted to him. Captain Wentworth—a + time-serving gentleman—smiled with this French general of a British + army that he might win the great man's favour. + </p> + <p> + “I have told your lordship,” said Blake, froth on his lips, “that the + twenty men I had from you, as well as Ensign Norris, are dead in + Bridgwater, and that my plan to carry off King Monmouth has come to ruin, + all because we were betrayed by this woman. It is now my further privilege + to point out to your lordship the man to whom she sold us.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham misliked Sir Rowland's arrogant tone, misliked his angry, + scornful glance. His eyes narrowed, the laughter faded slowly from his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I remember,” said he; “t'is lady, you have tole us, betray you. + Ver' well. But you have not tole us who betray you to t'is lady.” And he + looked inquiringly at Blake. + </p> + <p> + The baronet's jaw dropped; his face lost some of its high colour. He was + stunned by the question as the bird is stunned that flies headlong against + a pane of glass. He had crashed into an obstruction so transparent that he + had not seen it. + </p> + <p> + “So!” said Feversham, and he stroked the cleft of his chin. “Captain + Wentwort', be so kind as to call t'e guard.” + </p> + <p> + Wentworth moved to obey, but before he had gone round the table, Blake had + looked behind him and espied Richard shrinking by the door. + </p> + <p> + “By heaven!” he cried, “I can more than answer your lordship's question.” + </p> + <p> + Wentworth stopped, looking at Feversham. + </p> + <p> + “Voyons,” said the General. + </p> + <p> + “I can place you in possession of the man who has wrought our ruin. He is + there,” and he pointed theatrically to Richard. + </p> + <p> + Feversham looked at the limp figure in some bewilderment. Indeed, he was + having a most bewildering evening—or morning, rather, for it was + even then on the stroke of one o'clock. “An' who are you, sare?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Richard came forward, nerving himself for what was to follow. It had just + occurred to him that he held a card which should trump any trick of Sir + Rowland's vindictiveness, and the prospect heartened and comforted him. + </p> + <p> + “I am this lady's brother, my lord,” he answered, and his voice was fairly + steady. + </p> + <p> + “Tiens!” said Feversham, and, smiling, he turned to Wentworth. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a family party, sir,” said the captain, smiling back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! mais tout—fait,” said the General, laughing outright, and then + Wilding created a diversion by leading Ruth to a chair that stood at the + far end of the table, and drawing it forward for her. “Ah, yes,” said + Feversham airily, “let Madame sit.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, sir,” said Ruth, her voice brave and calm. + </p> + <p> + “But somewhat lacking in spontaneity,” Wilding criticized, which set + Wentworth staring and the Frenchman scowling. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call the guard, my lord?” asked Wentworth crisply. + </p> + <p> + “I t'ink yes,” said Feversham, and the captain gained the door, and spoke + a word to one of the soldiers without. + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” exclaimed Blake in a tone of protest, “I vow you are too + ready to take this fellow's word.” + </p> + <p> + “He 'as spoke so few,” said Feversham. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “You 'af 'eard 'im say—t'e lady's 'usband.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—but his name,” cried Blake, quivering with anger. “Do you know + that it is Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + The name certainly made an impression that might have flattered the man to + whom it belonged. Feversham's whole manner changed; the trivial air of + persiflage that he had adopted hitherto was gone on the instant, and his + brow grew dark. + </p> + <p> + “T'at true?” he asked sharply. “Are you Mistaire Wildin'—Mistaire + Antoine Wildin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship's most devoted servant,” said Wilding suavely, and made a + leg. + </p> + <p> + Wentworth in the background paused in the act of reclosing the door to + stare at this gentleman whose name Albemarle had rendered so excellently + well known. + </p> + <p> + “And you to dare come 'ere?” thundered Feversham, thoroughly roused by the + other's airy indifference. “You to dare come 'ere—into my ver' + presence?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding smiled conciliatingly. “I came for my wife, my lord,” he + reminded him. “It grieves me to intrude upon your lordship at so late an + hour, and indeed it was far from my intent. I had hoped to overtake Sir + Rowland before he reached you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nom de Dieu!” swore Feversham. “Ho! A so great effrontery!” He swung + round upon Blake again. “Sare Rowlan',” he bade him angrily, “be so kind + to tell me what 'appen in Breechwater—everyt'ing!” + </p> + <p> + Blake, his face purple, seemed to struggle for breath and words. Mr. + Wilding answered for him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Rowland is so choleric, my lord,” he said in his pleasant, level + voice, “that perhaps the tale would come more intelligibly from me. + Believe me that he has served you to the best of his ability. + Unfortunately for the success of your choice plan of murder, I had news of + it at the eleventh hour, and with a party of musketeers I was able to + surprise and destroy your cut-throats in Mr. Newlington's garden. You see, + my lord, I was to have been one of the victims myself, and I resented the + attentions that were intended me. I had no knowledge that Sir Rowland had + contrived to escape, and, frankly, it is a thing I deplore more than I can + say, for had that not happened much trouble might have been saved and your + lordship's rest had not been disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + “But t'e woman?” cried Feversham impatiently. “How is she come into this + galare?” + </p> + <p> + “It was she who warned him,” Blake got out, “as already I have had the + honour to inform your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “And your lordship cannot blame her for that,” said Wilding. “The lady is + a most loyal subject of King James; but she is also, as you observe, a + dutiful wife. I will add that it was her intention to warn me only when + too late for interference. Sir Rowland, as it happened, was slow in...” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” blazed the Frenchman. “Now t'at I know who you are, t'at make a + so great difference. Where is t'e guard, Wentwort'?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear them,” answered the captain, and from the street came the tramp of + their marching feet. + </p> + <p> + Feversham turned again to Blake. “T'e affaire 'as 'appen' so,” he said, + between question and assertion, summing up the situation as he understood + it. “T'is rogue,” and he pointed to Richard, “'ave betray your plan to 'is + sister, who betray it to 'er 'usband, who save t'e Duc de Monmoot'. + N'est-ce pas?” + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” said Blake, and Ruth scarcely thought it worth while to add + that she had heard of the plot not only from her brother, but from Blake + as well. After all, Blake's attitude in the matter, his action in bringing + her to Feversham for punishment, and to exculpate himself, must suffice to + cause any such statement of hers to be lightly received by the General. + </p> + <p> + She sat in an anguished silence, her eyes wide, her face pale, and waited + for the end of this strange business. In her heart she did permit herself + to think that it would be difficult to assemble a group of men less worthy + of respect. Choleric and vindictive Blake, foolish Feversham, stupid + Wentworth, and timid Richard—even Richard did not escape the + unfavourable criticism they were undergoing in her subconscious mind. Only + Wilding detached in that assembly—as he had detached in another that + she remembered—and stood out in sharp relief a very man, calm, + intrepid, self-possessed; and if she was afraid, she was more afraid for + him than for herself. This was something that, perhaps, she scarcely + realized just then; but she was to realize it soon. + </p> + <p> + Feversham was speaking again, asking Blake a fresh question. “And who + betray you to t'is rogue?” + </p> + <p> + “To Westmacott?” cried Blake. “He was in the plot with me. He was left to + guard the rear, to see that we were not taken by surprise, and he deserted + his post. Had he not done that, there had been no disaster, in spite of + Mr. Wilding's intervention.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham's brow was dark, his eyes glittered as they rested on the + traitor. + </p> + <p> + “T'at true, sare?” he asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” put in Mr. Wilding. “Mr. Westmacott, I think, was constrained + away. He did not intend...” + </p> + <p> + “Tais-toi!” blazed Feversham. “Did I interrogate you? It is for Mistaire + Westercott to answer.” He set a hand on the table and leaned forward + towards Wilding, his face very malign. “You shall to answer for yourself, + Mistaire Wildin'; I promise you you shall to answer for yourself.” He + turned again to Richard. “Eh, bien?” he snapped. “Will you speak?” + </p> + <p> + Richard came forward a step; he was certainly nervous, and certainly pale; + but neither as pale nor as nervous as from our knowledge of Richard we + might have looked to see him at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “It is in a measure true,” he said. “But what Mr. Wilding has said is more + exact. I was induced away. I did not dream any could know of the plan, or + that my absence could cause this catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “So you went, eh, vaurien? You t'ought t'at be to do your duty, eh? And it + was you who tole your sistaire?” + </p> + <p> + “I may have told her, but not before she had the tale already from Blake.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham sneered and shrugged. “Natural you will not speak true. A + traitor I 'ave observe' is always liar.” + </p> + <p> + Richard drew himself up; he seemed invested almost with a new dignity. + “Your lordship is pleased to account me a traitor?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “A dam' traitor,” said his lordship, and at that moment the door opened, + and a sergeant, with six men following him, stood at the salute upon the + threshold. “A la bonne heure!” his lordship hailed them. “Sergean', you + will arrest t'is rogue and t'is lady,”—he waved his hand from + Richard to Ruth—“and you will take t'em to lock..up.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant advanced towards Richard, who drew a step away from him. Ruth + rose to her feet in agitation. Mr. Wilding interposed himself between her + and the guard, his hand upon his sword. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he cried, “do they teach no better courtesy in France?” + </p> + <p> + Feversham scowled at him, smiling darkly. “I shall talk wit' you soon, + sare,” said he, his words a threat. + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord...” began Richard. “I can make it very plain I am no + traitor...” + </p> + <p> + “In t'e mornin',” said Feversham blandly, waving his hand, and the + sergeant took Richard by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + But Richard twisted from his grasp. “In the morning will be too late,” he + cried. “I have it in my power to render you such a service as you little + dream of.” + </p> + <p> + “Take 'im away,” said Feversham wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I can save you from destruction,” bawled Richard, “you and your army.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps even now Feversham had not heeded him but for Wilding's sudden + interference. + </p> + <p> + “Silence, Richard!” he cried to him. “Would you betray...?” He checked on + the word; more he dared not say; but he hoped faintly that he had said + enough. + </p> + <p> + Feversham, however, chanced to observe that this man who had shown himself + hitherto so calm looked suddenly most singularly perturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” quoth the General. “An instan', Sergean'. What is t'is, eh?”—and + he looked from Wilding to Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship shall learn at a price,” cried Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Me, I not bargain wit' traitors,” said his lordship stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” answered Richard, and he folded his arms dramatically. + “But no matter what your lordship's life may be hereafter, you will never + regret anything more bitterly than you shall regret this by sunrise if + indeed you live to see it.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham shifted uneasily on his feet. “'What you say?” he asked. “What + you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know at a price,” said Richard again. + </p> + <p> + Wilding, realizing the hopelessness of interfering now, stood gloomily + apart, a great bitterness in his soul at the indiscretion he had committed + in telling Richard of the night attack that was afoot. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship shall hear my price, but you need not pay it me until you + have had an opportunity of verifying the information I have to give you. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Feversham after a brief pause, during which he scrutinized + the young man's face. + </p> + <p> + “If your lordship will promise liberty and safe-conduct to my sister and + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” Feversham repeated. + </p> + <p> + “When you have promised to grant me what I ask in return for my + information.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I t'ink your information is wort'” + </p> + <p> + “I am content,” said Richard. He inclined his head and loosed the quarrel + of his news. “Your camp is slumbering, your officers are all abed with the + exception of the outpost on the road to Bridgwater. What should you say if + I told you that Monmouth and all his army are marching upon you at this + very moment, will probably fall upon you before another hour is past?” + </p> + <p> + Wilding uttered a groan, and his hands fell to his sides. Had Feversham + observed this he might have been less ready with his sneering answer. + </p> + <p> + “A lie!” he answered, and laughed. “My fren', I 'ave myself been to-night, + at midnight, on t'e moore, and I 'ave 'eard t'e army of t'e Duc de + Monmoot' marching to Bristol on t'e road—what you call t'e road, + Wentwort'?” + </p> + <p> + “The Eastern Causeway, my lord,” answered the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Voil!” said Feversham, and spread his hands. “What you say now, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “That that is part of Monmouth's plan to come at you across the moors, by + way of Chedzoy, avoiding your only outpost, and falling upon you in your + beds, all unawares. Lord! sir, do not take my word for it. Send out your + scouts, and I dare swear they'll not need go far before they come upon the + enemy.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham looked at Wentworth. His lordship's face had undergone a change. + </p> + <p> + “What you t'ink?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my lord, it sounds so likely,” answered Wentworth, “that... + that... I marvel we did not provide against such a contingency.” + </p> + <p> + “But I 'ave provide'!” cried this nephew of the great Turenne. “Ogelt'orpe + is on t'e moor and Sare Francis Compton. If t'is is true, 'ow can t'ey + 'ave miss Monmoot'? Send word to Milor' Churchill at once, Wentwort'. Let + t'e matter be investigate'—at once, Wentwort'—at once!” The + General was dancing with excitement. Wentworth saluted and turned to leave + the room. “If you 'ave tole me true,” continued Feversham, turning now to + Richard, “you shall 'ave t'e price you ask, and t'e t'anks of t'e King's + army. But if not...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's true enough,” broke in Wilding, and his voice was like a groan, + his face over-charged with gloom. + </p> + <p> + Feversham looked at him; his sneering smile returned. + </p> + <p> + “Me, I not remember,” said he, “that Mr. Westercott 'ave include you in + t'e bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing had been further from Wilding's thoughts than such a suggestion. + And he snorted his disdain. The sergeant had fallen back at Feversham's + words, and his men lined the wall of the chamber. The General bade Richard + be seated whilst he waited. Sir Rowland stood apart, leaning wearily + against the wainscot, waiting also, his dull wits not quite clear how + Richard might have come by so valuable a piece of information, his evil + spirit almost wishing it untrue, in his vindictiveness, to the end that + Richard might pay the price of having played him false and Ruth the price + of having scorned him. + </p> + <p> + Feversham meanwhile was seeking—with no great success—to + engage Mr. Wilding in talk of Monmouth, against whom Feversham harboured + in addition to his political enmity a very deadly personal hatred; for + Feversham had been a suitor to the hand of the Lady Henrietta Wentworth, + the woman for whom Monmouth—worthy son of his father—had + practically abandoned his own wife; the woman with whom he had run off, to + the great scandal of court and nation. + </p> + <p> + Despairing of drawing any useful information from Wilding, his lordship + was on the point of turning to Blake, when quick steps and the rattle of a + scabbard sounded without; the door was thrust open without ceremony, and + Captain Wentworth reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he cried, his manner excited beyond aught one could have + believed possible in so phlegmatic-seeming a person, “it is true. We are + beset.” + </p> + <p> + “Beset!” echoed Feversham. “Beset already?” + </p> + <p> + “We can hear them moving on the moor. They are crossing the Langmoor + Rhine. They will be upon us in ten minutes at the most. I have roused + Colonel Douglas, and Dunbarton's regiment is ready for them.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham exploded. “What else 'ave you done?” he asked. “Where is Milor' + Churchill?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Churchill is mustering his men as quietly as may be that they may be + ready to surprise those who come to surprise us. By Heaven, sir, we owe a + great debt to Mr. Westmacott. Without his information we might have had + all our throats cut whilst we slept.” + </p> + <p> + “Be so kind to call Belmont,” said Feversham. “Tell him to bring my + clot'es.” + </p> + <p> + Wentworth turned and went out again to execute the General's orders. + Feversham spoke to Richard. “We are oblige', Mr. Westercott,” said he. “We + are ver' much oblige'.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly from a little distance came the roll of drums. Other sounds began + to stir in the night outside to tell of a waking army. + </p> + <p> + Feversham stood listening. “It is Dunbarton's,” he murmured. Then, with + some show of heat, “Ah, pardieu!” he cried. “But it was a dirty t'ing t'is + Monmoot' 'ave prepare'. It is murder; it is not t'e war. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Wilding critically, “it is a little more like war than the + Bridgwater affair to which your lordship gave your sanction.” + </p> + <p> + Feversham pursed his lips and considered the speaker. Wentworth reentered, + followed by the Earl's valet carrying an armful of garments. His lordship + threw off his dressing-gown and stood forth in shirt and breeches. + </p> +<p> +“Mais duche-toi, donc, Belmont!” said he. “Nous nous battons! Ii faut +que je m'habille.” Belmont, a little wizened fellow who understood +nothing of this topsy-turveydom, hastened forward, deposited his armful +on the table, and selected a finely embroidered waistcoat, which he +proceeded to hold for his master. Wriggling into it, Feversham rapped +out his orders. +</p> + <p> +“Captain Wentwort', you will go to your regimen at once. But +first, ah—wait. Take t'ose six men and Mistaire Wilding. 'Ave 'im shot +at once; you onderstan', eh? Good. Allons, Belmont! my cravat.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE EXECUTION + </h2> + <p> + Captain Wentworth clicked his heels together and saluted. Blake, in the + background, drew a deep breath—unmistakably of satisfaction, and his + eyes glittered. A muffled cry broke from Ruth, who rose instantly from her + chair, her hand on her bosom. Richard stood with fallen jaw, amazed, a + trifle troubled even, whilst Mr. Wilding started more in surprise than + actual fear, and approached the table. + </p> + <p> + “You heard, sir,” said Captain Wentworth. + </p> + <p> + “I heard,” answered Mr. Wilding quietly. “But surely not aright. One + moment, sir,” and he waved his hand so compellingly that, despite the + order he had received, the phlegmatic captain hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Feversham, who had taken the cravat—a yard of priceless Dutch lace—from + the hands of his valet, and was standing with his back to the company at a + small and very faulty mirror that hung by the overmantel, looked peevishly + over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Wilding, and Blake, for all his hatred of this man, + marvelled at a composure that did not forsake him even now, “you are + surely not proposing to deal with me in this fashion—not seriously, + my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ca!” said the Frenchman. “T'ink it a jest if you please. What for you + come 'ere?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly not for the purpose of being shot,” said Wilding, and actually + smiled. Then, in the tones of one discussing a matter that is grave but + not of surpassing gravity, he continued: “It is not that I fail to + recognize that I may seem to have incurred the rigour of the law; but + these matters must be formally proved against me. I have affairs to set in + order against such a consummation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ta, ta!” snapped Feversham. “T'at not regard me Weutwort', you 'ave + 'eard my order.” And he returned to his mirror and the nice adjustment of + his neckwear. + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” insisted Wilding, “you have not the right—you have + not the power so to proceed against me. A man of my quality is not to be + shot without a trial.” + </p> + <p> + “You can 'ang if you prefer,” said Feversham indifferently, drawing out + the ends of his cravat and smoothing them down upon his breast. He faced + about briskly. “Give me t'at coat, Belmont. His Majesty 'ave empower me to + 'ang or shoot any gentlemens of t'e partie of t'e Duc t'e Monmoot' on t'e + spot. I say t'at for your satisfaction. And look, I am desolate' to be so + quick wit' you, but please to consider t'e circumstance. T'e enemy go to + attack. Wentwort' must go to his regimen', and my ot'er officers are all + occupi'. You comprehen' I 'ave not t'e time to spare you—n'est-ce-pas?”—Wentworth's + hand touched Wilding on the shoulder. He was standing with head slightly + bowed, his brows knit in thought. He looked round at the touch, sighed and + smiled. + </p> + <p> + Belmont held the coat for his master, who slipped into it, and flung at + Wilding what was intended for a consolatory sop. “It is fortune de guerre, + Mistaire Wilding. I am desolate'; but it is fortune of t'e war.” + </p> + <p> + “May it be less fortunate for your lordship, then,” said Wilding dryly, + and was on the point of turning, when Ruth's voice came in a loud cry to + startle him and to quicken his pulses. + </p> + <p> + “My lord!” It was a cry of utter anguish. + </p> + <p> + Feversham, settling his gold-laced coat comfortably to his figure, looked + at her. “Madame?” said he. + </p> + <p> + But she had nothing to say. She stood, deathly white, slightly bent + forward, one hand wringing the other, her eyes almost wild, her bosom + heaving frantically. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” said Feversham, and he loosened and removed the scarf from his + head. He shrugged slightly and looked at Wentworth. “Finissons!” said he. + </p> + <p> + The word and the look snapped the trammels that bound Ruth's speech. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes, my lord!” she cried imploringly. “Give him five minutes—and + me, my lord!” + </p> + <p> + Wilding, deeply shaken, trembled now as he awaited Feversham's reply. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman seemed to waver. “Bien,” he began, spreading his hands. And + in that moment a shot rang out in the night and startled the whole + company. Feversham threw back his head; the signs of yielding left his + face. “Ha!” he cried. “T'ey are arrive.” He snatched his wig from his + lacquey's hands, donned it, and turned again an instant to the mirror to + adjust the great curls. “Quick, Wentwort'! T'ere is no more time now. Make + Mistaire Wilding be shot at once. T'en to your regimen'.” He faced about + and took the sword his valet proffered. “Au revoir, messieurs!” + </p> + <p> + “Serviteur, madame!” And, buckling his sword-belt as he went, he swept + out, leaving the door wide open, Belmont following, Wentworth saluting and + the guards presenting arms. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir,” said the captain in a subdued voice, his eyes avoiding Ruth's + face. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” answered Wilding firmly, and he turned to glance at his + wife. + </p> + <p> + She was bending towards him, her hands held out, such a look on her face + as almost drove him mad with despair, reading it as he did. He made a + sound deep in his throat before he found words. + </p> + <p> + “Give me one minute, sir—one minute,” he begged Wentworth. “I ask no + more than that.” + </p> + <p> + Wentworth was a gentleman and not ill-natured. But he was a soldier and + had received his orders. He hesitated between the instincts of the two + conditions. And what time he did so there came a clatter of hoofs without + to resolve him. It was Feversham departing. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have your minute, sir,” said he. “More I dare not give you, as + you can see. + </p> + <p> + “From my heart I thank you,” answered Mr. Wilding, and from the gratitude + of his tone you might have inferred that it was his life Wentworth had + accorded him. + </p> + <p> + The captain had already turned aside to address his men. “Two of you + outside, guard that window,” he ordered. “The rest of you, in the passage. + Bestir there!” + </p> + <p> + “Take your precautions, by all means, sir,” said Wilding; “but I give you + my word of honour I shall attempt no escape.” + </p> + <p> + Wentworth nodded without replying. His eye lighted on Blake—who had + been seemingly forgotten in the confusion—and on Richard. A + kindliness for the man who met his end so unflinchingly, a respect for so + worthy an enemy, actuated the red-faced captain. + </p> + <p> + “You had better take yourself off, Sir Rowland,” said he. “And you, Mr. + Westmacott—you can wait in the passage with my men.” + </p> + <p> + They obeyed him promptly enough, but when outside Sir Rowland made bold to + remind the captain that he was failing in his duty, and that he should + make a point of informing the General of this anon. Wentworth bade him go + to the devil, and so was rid of him. + </p> + <p> + Alone, inside that low-ceilinged chamber, stood Ruth and Wilding face to + face. He advanced towards her, and with a shuddering sob she flung herself + into his arms. Still, he mistrusted the emotion to which she was a prey—dreading + lest it should have its root in pity. He patted her shoulder soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, little child,” he whispered in her ear. “Never weep for me that + have not a tear for myself. What better resolution of the difficulties my + folly has created?” For only answer she clung closer, her hands locked + about his neck, her slender body shaken by her silent weeping. “Don't pity + me,” he besought her. “I am content it should be so. It is the amend I + promised you. Waste no pity on me, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her face, her eyes wild and blurred with tears, looked up to + his. + </p> + <p> + “It is not pity!” she cried. “I want you, Anthony! I love you, Anthony, + Anthony!” + </p> + <p> + His face grew ashen. “It is true, then!” he asked her. “And what you said + to-night was true! I thought you said it only to detain me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is true, it is true!” she wailed. + </p> + <p> + He sighed; he disengaged a hand to stroke her face. “I am happy,” he said, + and strove to smile. “Had I lived, who knows...?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” she interrupted him passionately, her arms tightening about + his neck. He bent his head. Their lips met and clung. A knock fell upon + the door. They started, and Wilding raised his hands gently to disengage + her pinioning arms. + </p> + <p> + “I must go, sweet,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “God help me!” she moaned, and clung to him still. “It is I who am killing + you—I and your love for me. For it was to save me you rode hither + to-night, never pausing to weigh your own deadly danger. Oh, I am punished + for having listened to every voice but the voice of my own heart where you + were concerned. Had I loved you earlier—had I owned it earlier...” + </p> + <p> + “It had still been too late,” he said, more to comfort her than because he + knew it to be so. “Be brave for my sake, Ruth. You can be brave, I know—so + well. Listen, sweet. Your words have made me happy. Mar not this happiness + of mine by sending me out in grief at your grief.” + </p> + <p> + Her response to his prayer was brave, indeed. Through her tears came a + faint smile to overspread her face so white and pitiful. + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet soon again,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—think on that,” he bade her, and pressed her to him. “Good-bye, + sweet! God keep you till we meet!” he added, his voice infinitely tender. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding!” Wentworth's voice called him, and the captain thrust the + door open a foot or so. “Mr. Wilding!” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming,” he answered steadily. He kissed her again, and on that kiss + of his she sank against him, and he felt her turn all limp. He raised his + voice. “Richard!” he shouted wildly. “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + At the note of alarm in his voice, Wentworth flung wide the door and + entered, Richard's ashen face showing over his shoulder. In her brother's + care Wilding delivered his mercifully unconscious wife. “See to her, + Dick,” he said, and turned to go, mistrusting himself now. But he paused + as he reached the door, Wentworth waxing more and more impatient at his + elbow. He turned again. + </p> + <p> + “Dick,” he said, “we might have been better friends. I would we had been. + Let us part so at least,” and he held out his hand, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Before so much gallantry Richard was conquered almost to the point of + worship; a weak man himself, there was no virtue he could more admire than + strength. He left Ruth in the high-backed chair in which Wilding's tender + hands had placed her, and sprang forward, tears in his eyes. He wrung + Wilding's hands in wordless passion. + </p> + <p> + “Be good to her, Dick,” said Wilding, and went out with Wentworth. + </p> + <p> + He was marched down the street in the centre of that small party of + musketeers of Dunbarton's regiment, his thoughts all behind him rather + than ahead, a smile on his lips. He had conquered at the last. He thought + of that other parting of theirs, nearly a month ago, on the road by + Walford. Now, as then, circumstance was the fire that had melted her. But + the crucible was no longer—as then of pity; it was the crucible of + love. + </p> + <p> + And in that same crucible, too, Anthony Wilding's nature had undergone a + transmutation; his love for Ruth had been purified of that base alloy of + desire which had driven him into the unworthiness of making her his own at + all costs; there was no carnal grossness in his present passion; it was + pure as a religion—the love that takes no account of self, the love + that makes for joyous and grateful martyrdom. And a joyous and grateful + martyr would Anthony Wilding have been could he have thought that his + death would bring her happiness or peace. In such a faith as that he had + marched—or so he thought blithely to his end, and the smile on his + lips had been less wistful than it was. Thinking of the agony in which he + had left her, he almost came to wish—so pure was his love grown—that + he had not conquered. The joy that at first was his was now all dashed. + His death would cause her pain. His death! O God! It is an easy thing to + be a martyr; but this was not martyrdom; having done what he had done he + had not the right to die. The last vestige of the smile that he had worn + faded from his tight-pressed lips, tight-pressed as though to endure some + physical suffering. His face greyed, and deep lines furrowed his brow. + Thus he marched on, mechanically, amid his marching escort, through the + murky, fog-laden night, taking no heed of the stir about them, for all + Weston Zoyland was aroused by now. + </p> + <p> + Ahead of them, and over to the east, the firing blazed and crackled, + volley upon volley, to tell them that already battle had been joined in + earnest. Monmouth's surprise had aborted, and it passed through Wilding's + mind that to a great extent he was to blame for this. But it gave him + little care. + </p> + <p> + At least his indiscretion had served the purpose of rescuing Ruth from + Lord Feversham's unclean clutches. For the rest, knowing that Monmouth's + army by far outnumbered Feversham's, he had no doubt that the advantage + must still lie with the Duke, in spite of Feversham's having been warned + in the eleventh hour. + </p> + <p> + Louder grew the sounds of battle. Above the din of firing a swelling + chorus rose upon the night, startling and weird in such a time and place. + Monmouth's pious infantry went into action singing hymns, and Wentworth, + impatient to be at his post, bade his men go faster. + </p> + <p> + The night was by now growing faintly luminous, and the deathly grey light + of approaching dawn hung in the mists upon the moor. Objects grew visible + in bulk at least, if not in form and shape, by the time the little company + had reached the end of Weston village and come upon the deep mud dyke + which had been Wentworth's objective—a ditch that communicated with + the great rhine that served the King's forces so well on that night of + Sedgemoor. + </p> + <p> + Within some twenty paces of this Wentworth called a halt, and would have + had Wilding's hands pinioned behind him, and his eyes blindfolded, but + that Wilding begged him this might not be done. Wentworth was, as we know, + impatient; and between impatience and kindliness, perhaps, he acceded to + Wilding's prayer. + </p> + <p> + He even hesitated a moment at the last. It was in his mind to speak some + word of comfort to the doomed man. Then a sudden volley, more terrific + than any that had preceded it, followed by hoarse cheering away to + eastward, quickened his impatience. He bade the sergeant lead Mr. Wilding + forward and stand him on the edge of the ditch. His object was that thus + the man's body would be disposed of without waste of time. This Wilding + realized, his soul rebelling against this fate which had come upon him in + the very hour when he most desired to live. Mad thoughts of escape crossed + his mind—of a leap across the dyke, and a wild dash through the fog. + But the futility of it was too appalling. The musketeers were already + blowing their matches. He would suffer the ignominy of being shot in the + back, like a coward, if he made any such attempt. + </p> + <p> + And so, despairing but not resigned, he took his stand on the very edge of + the ditch. In an irony of obligingness he set half of his heels over the + void, so that he was nicely balanced upon the edge of the cutting, and + must go backwards and down into the mud when hit. + </p> + <p> + It was this position he had taken that gave him an inspiration in that + last moment. The sergeant had moved away out of the line of fire, and he + stood there alone, waiting, erect and with his head held high, his eyes + upon the grey mass of musketeers—blurred alike by mist and + semi-darkness—some twenty paces distant along the line of which + glowed eight red fuses. + </p> + <p> + Wentworth's voice rang out with the words of command. + </p> + <p> + “Blow your matches!” + </p> + <p> + Brighter gleamed the points of light, and under their steel pots the faces + of the musketeers, suffused by a dull red glow, sprang for a moment out of + the grey mass, to fade once more into the general greyness at the word, + “Cock your matches!” + </p> + <p> + “Guard your pans!” came a second later the captain's voice, and then: + </p> + <p> + “Present!” + </p> + <p> + There was a stir and rattle, and the dark, indistinct figure standing on + the lip of the ditch was covered by the eight muskets. To the eyes of the + firing-party he was no more than a blurred shadowy form, showing a little + darker than the encompassing dark grey. + </p> + <p> + “Give fire!” + </p> + <p> + On the word Mr. Wilding lost the delicate, precarious balance he had been + sustaining on the edge of the ditch, and went over backwards, at the + imminent risk—as he afterwards related—of breaking his neck. + At the same instant a jagged, eight-pointed line of flame slashed the + darkness, and the thunder of the volley pealed forth to lose itself in the + greater din of battle on Penzoy Pound, hard by. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. MR. WILDING'S BOOTS + </h2> + <p> + In the filth of the ditch, Mr. Wilding rolled over and lay prone. He threw + out his left arm, and rested his brow upon it to keep his face above the + mud. He strove to hold his breath, not that he might dissemble death, but + that he might avoid being poisoned by the foul gases that, disturbed by + his weight, bubbled up to choke him. His body half sank and settled in the + mud, and seen from above, as he was presently seen by Wentworth—who + ran forward with the sergeant's lanthorn to assure himself that the work + had been well done—he had all the air of being not only dead but + already half buried. + </p> + <p> + And now, for a second, Mr. Wilding was in his greatest danger, and this + from the very humaneness of the sergeant. The fellow advanced to the + captain's side, a pistol in his hand. Wentworth held the light aloft and + peered down into that six feet of blackness at the jacent figure. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I give him an ounce of lead to make sure, Captain?” quoth the + sergeant. But Wentworth, in his great haste, had already turned about, and + the light of his lanthorn no longer revealed the form of Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “There is not the need. The ditch will do what may remain to be done, if + anything does. Come on, man. We are wanted yonder.” + </p> + <p> + The light passed, steps retreated, the sergeant muttering, and then + Wentworth's voice was heard by Wilding some little distance off. + </p> + <p> + “Bring up your muskets!” + </p> + <p> + “Shoulder!” + </p> + <p> + “By the right—turn! March!” And the tramp, tramp of feet receded + rapidly. + </p> + <p> + Wilding was already sitting up, endeavouring to get a breath of purer air. + He rose to his feet, sinking almost to the top of his boots in the oozy + slime. Foul gases were belched up to envelop him. He seized at + irregularities in the bank, and got his head above the level of the + ground. He thrust forward his chin and took great greedy breaths in a very + gluttony of air—and never came Muscadine sweeter to a drunkard's + lips. He laughed softly to himself. He was alone and safe. Wentworth and + his men had disappeared. Away in the direction of Penzoy Pound the sounds + of battle swelled ever to a greater volume. Cannons were booming now, and + all was uproar—flame and shouting, cheering and shrieking, the + thunder of hastening multitudes, the clash of steel, the pounding of + horses, all blent to make up the horrid din of carnage. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilding listened, and considered what to do. His first impulse was to + join the fray. But, bethinking him that there could be little place for + him in the confusion that must prevail by now, he reconsidered the matter, + and his thoughts returning to Ruth—the wife for whom he had been at + such pains to preserve himself on the very brink of death—he + resolved to endanger himself no further for that night. + </p> + <p> + He dropped back into the ditch, and waded, ankle deep in slime, to the + other side. There he crawled out, and gaining the moor lay down awhile to + breathe his lungs. But not for long. The dawn was creeping pale and + ghostly across the solid earth, and a faint fresh breeze was stirring and + driving the mist in wispy shrouds before it. If he lingered there he might + yet be found by some party of Royalist soldiers, and that would be to undo + all that he had done. He rose, and struck out across the peaty ground. + None knew the moors better than did he, and had he been with Grey's horse + that night, it is possible things had fared differently, for he had proved + a surer guide than did Godfrey, the spy. + </p> + <p> + At first he thought of making for Bridgwater and Lupton House. By now + Richard would be on his way thither with Ruth, and Wilding was in haste + that she should be reassured that he had not fallen to the muskets of + Wentworth's firing-party. But Bridgwater was far, and he began to realize, + now that all excitement was past, that he was utterly exhausted. Next he + thought of Scoresby Hall and his cousin Lord Gervase. But he was by no + means sure that he might count upon a welcome. Gervase had shown no + sympathy for Monmouth or his partisans, and whilst he would hardly go so + far as to refuse Mr. Wilding shelter, still Wilding felt an aversion to + seeking what might be grudged him. At last he bethought him of home. + Zoyland Chase was near at hand; but he had not been there since his + wedding-day, and in the mean time he knew that it had been used as a + barrack for the militia, and had no doubt that it had been wrecked and + plundered. Still, it must have walls and a roof, and that, for the time, + was all he craved, that he might rest awhile and recuperate his wasted + forces. + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later he dragged himself wearily up the avenue between the + elms—looking white as snow in the pale July dawn—to the + clearing in front of his house. + </p> + <p> + Desertion was stamped upon the face of it. Shattered windows and hanging + shutters everywhere. How wantonly they had wrecked it! It might have been + a church, and the militia a regiment of Cromwell's iconoclastic Puritans. + The door was locked, but going round he found a window—one of the + door-windows of his library—hanging loose upon its hinges. He pushed + it wide, and entered with a heavy heart. Instantly something stirred in a + corner; a fierce growl was followed by a furious bark, and a lithe brown + body leapt from the greater into the lesser shadows to attack the + intruder. But at one word of his the hound checked suddenly, crouched an + instant, then with a queer, throaty sound bounded forward in a wild + delight that robbed it on the instant of its voice. It found it anon and + leapt about him, barking furious joy in spite of all his vain endeavours + to calm it. He grew afraid lest the dog should draw attention. He knew not + who—if any—might be in possession of his house. The library, + as he looked round, showed a scene of wreckage that excellently matched + the exterior. Not a picture on the walls, not an arras, but had been rent + to shreds. The great lustre that had hung from the centre of the ceiling + was gone. Disorder reigned along the bookshelves, and yet there and + elsewhere there was a certain orderliness, suggesting an attempt to + straighten up the place after the ravagers had departed. It was these + signs made him afraid the house might be tenanted by such as might prove + his enemies. + </p> + <p> + “Down, Jack,” he said to the dog for the twentieth time, patting its sleek + head. “Down, down!” + </p> + <p> + But still the dog bounded about him, barking wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” he hissed suddenly. Steps sounded in the hall. It was as he feared. + The door was suddenly thrown open, and the grey morning light gleamed upon + the long barrel of a musket. After it, bearing it, entered a white-haired + old man. + </p> + <p> + He paused on the threshold, measuring the tall disordered stranger who + stood there, his figure a black silhouette against the window by which he + had entered. + </p> + <p> + “What seek you here, sir, in this house of desolation?” asked the voice of + Mr. Wilding's old servant. + </p> + <p> + He answered but one word. “Walters!” + </p> + <p> + The musket dropped with a clatter from the old man's hands. He sank back + against the doorpost and leaned there an instant; then, whimpering and + laughing, he came tottering forward—his old legs failing him in this + excess of unexpected joy—and sank on his knees to kiss his master's + hand. + </p> + <p> + Wilding patted the old head, as he had patted the dog's a little while + ago. He was oddly moved; there was a knot in his throat. No home-coming + could well have been more desolate. And yet, what home-coming could have + brought him such a torturing joy as was now his? Oh, it is good to be + loved, if it be by no more than a dog and an old servant! + </p> + <p> + In a moment Walters was himself again. He was on his feet, scrutinizing + Wilding's haggard face and disordered, filthy clothes. He broke into + exclamations between dismay and reproach, but these Wilding interrupted to + ask the old man how it happened that he had remained. + </p> + <p> + “My son John was a sergeant in the troop that quartered itself here, sir,” + Walters explained, “and so they left me alone. But even had it not been + for that, I scarcely think they would have harmed an old man. They were + brave fellows for all the mischief they did here, and they seemed to have + little heart in the service of the Popish King. It was the officers drove + them on to all this damage, and once they'd started—well, there were + rogues amongst them saw a chance of plunder, and they took it. I have + sought to put the place to rights; but they did some woeful, wanton + mischief.” + </p> + <p> + Wilding sighed. “It's little matter, perhaps, as the place is no longer + mine. + </p> + <p> + “No... no longer yours, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm an attainted outlaw, Walters,” he explained. “They'll bestow it on + some Popish time-server, unless King Monmouth can follow up by greater + victories to-night's. Have you aught a man may eat or drink?” + </p> + <p> + Meat and wine, fresh linen and fresh garments did old Walters find him; + and when he had washed, eaten, and drunk, Mr. Wilding wrapped himself in a + dressing-gown and laid himself down to sleep on a settle in the library, + his servant and his dog on guard. + </p> + <p> + Not above an hour, however, was he destined to enjoy his hard-earned rest. + The light had grown, meanwhile, and from grey it had turned golden, the + heralds of the sun being already in the east. In the distance the firing + had died down to a mere occasional boom. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly old Walters raised his head to listen. The beat of hoofs was + drawing rapidly near, so near that presently he rose in alarm, for a + horseman was pounding up the avenue, had drawn rein at the main entrance. + </p> + <p> + Walters knit his brows in perplexity, and glanced at his master who slept + on utterly worn out. A silent pause followed, lasting some minutes. Then + it was the dog that rose with a growl, his coat bristling, and an instant + later there came a sharp rapping at the hall door. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Down, Jack!” whispered Walters, afraid of rousing Mr. Wilding. He + tiptoed softly across the room, picked up his musket, and, calling the + dog, went out, a great fear in his heart, but not for himself. + </p> + <p> + The rapping continued, growing every instant more urgent, so urgent that + Walters was almost reassured. Here was no enemy, but surely some one in + need. Walters opened at last, and Mr. Trenchard, grimy of face and hands, + his hat shorn of its plumes, his clothes torn, staggered with an oath + across the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Walters!” he cried. “Thank God! I thought you'd be here, but I wasn't + certain. Down, Jack!” + </p> + <p> + The hound was barking madly again, having recognized an old friend. + </p> + <p> + “Plague on the dog!” growled Walters. “He'll wake Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilding?” said Trenchard, and checked midway across the hall. “Mr. + Wilding?” + </p> + <p> + “He arrived here a couple of hours ago, sir...” + </p> + <p> + “Wilding here? Oddsheart! I was more than well advised to come. Where is + he, man?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh, sir! He's asleep in the library. You'll wake him, you'll wake him!” + </p> + <p> + But Trenchard never paused. He crossed the hall at a bound, and flung wide + the library door. “Anthony!” he shouted. “Anthony!” And in the background + Walters cursed him for a fool. Wilding leapt to his feet, awake and + startled. + </p> + <p> + “Wha... Nick!” + </p> + <p> + “Oons!” roared Nick. “You're choicely found. I came to send to Bridgwater + for you. We must away at once, man.” + </p> + <p> + “How—away? I thought you were in the fight, Nick.” + </p> + <p> + “And don't I look as if I had been?” + </p> + <p> + “But then... + </p> + <p> + “The fight is fought and lost; there's an end to the garboil. Monmouth is + in full flight with what's left him of his horse. When I quitted the + field, he was riding hard for Polden Hill.” He dropped into a chair, his + accents grim and despairing, his eyes haggard. + </p> + <p> + “Lost?” gasped Wilding, and his conscience pricked him for a moment, + remembering how much it had been his fault—however indirectly—that + Feversham had been forewarned. “But how lost?” he cried a moment later. + </p> + <p> + “Ask Grey,” snapped Trenchard. “Ask his craven, numskulled lordship. He + had as good a hand in losing it as any. Oh, it was all most infernally + mishandled, as has been everything in this ill-starred rising. Grey sent + back Godfrey, the guide, and attempted in the dark to find his own way + across the rhine. He missed the ford. What else could the fool have hoped? + And when he was discovered and Dunbarton's guns began to play on us—hell + and fire! we ran as if Sedgemoor had been a race-course. + </p> + <p> + “The rest was but the natural sequel. The foot, seeing our confusion, + broke. They were rallied again; broke again; and again were rallied; but + all too late. The enemy was up, and with that damned ditch between us + there was no getting to close quarters with them. Had Grey ridden round, + and sought to turn their flank, things might have been—O God!—they + would have been entirely different. I did suggest it. But for my pains + Grey threatened to pistol me if I presumed to instruct him in his duty. I + would to Heaven I had pistolled him where he stood.” + </p> + <p> + Walters, at gaze in the doorway, listened to the bitter tirade. Wilding, + on the settle, sat silent a moment, his elbows on his knees, his chin in + his hands, his eyes set and grim as Trenchard's own. Then he mastered + himself, and waved a hand towards the table where stood food and wine. + </p> + <p> + “Eat and drink, Nick,” he said, “and we'll discuss what's to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll need little discussing,” was Nick's savage answer as he rose and + went to pour himself a cup of wine. “There's but one course open to us + —instant flight. I am for Minehead to join Hewling's horse, which + went there yesterday for guns. We might seize a ship somewhere on the + coast, and thus get out of this infernal country of mine.” + </p> + <p> + They discussed the matter in spite of Trenchard's having said that there + was nothing to discuss, and in the end Wilding agreed to go with him. What + choice had he? But first he must go to Bridgwater to reassure his wife. + </p> + <p> + “To Bridgwater?” blazed Trenchard, in a passion at the folly of the + suggestion. “You're clearly mad! All the King's forces will be there in an + hour or two.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” said Wilding, “I must go. I am dead already, as it happens.” + And he related his singular adventure in Feversham's camp last night. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard heard him in amazement. If any suspicion crossed his mind that + his friend's love affairs had had anything to do with rousing Feversham + prematurely, he showed no sign of it. But he shook his head at Wilding's + insistence that he must first go to Lupton House. + </p> + <p> + “Shalt send a message, Anthony. Walters will find some one to bear it. But + you must not go yourself.” + </p> + <p> + In the end Mr. Trenchard prevailed upon him to adopt this course, however + reluctant he might be. Thereafter they proceeded to make their + preparations. There were still a couple of nags in the stables, in spite + of the visitation of the militia, and Walters was able to find fresh + clothes for Mr. Trenchard above-stairs. + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later they were ready to set out on this forlorn hope of + escape; the horses were at the door, and Mr. Wilding was in the act of + drawing on the fresh pair of boots which Walters had fetched him. Suddenly + he paused, his foot in the leg of his right boot, and sat bemused a + moment. + </p> + <p> + Trenchard, watching him, waxed impatient. “What ails you now?” he croaked. + </p> + <p> + Without answering him, Wilding turned to Walters. “Where are the boots I + wore last night?” he asked, and his voice was sharp—oddly sharp, + considering how trivial the matter of his speech. + </p> + <p> + “In the kitchen,” answered Walters. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch me them.” And he kicked off again the boot he had half drawn on. + </p> + <p> + “But they are all befouled with mud, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Clean them, Walters; clean them and let me have them.” + </p> + <p> + Still Walters hesitated, pointing out that the boots he had brought his + master were newer and sounder. Wilding interrupted him impatiently. “Do as + I bid you, Walters.” And the old man, understanding nothing, went off on + the errand. + </p> + <p> + “A pox on your boots!” swore Trenchard. “What does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + Wilding seemed suddenly to have undergone a transformation. His gloom had + fallen from him. He looked up at his old friend and, smiling, answered + him. “It means, Nick, that whilst these excellent boots that Walters would + have me wear might be well enough for a ride to the coast such as you + propose, they are not at all suited to the journey I intend to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” said Nick with a sniff, “you're intending to journey to Tower + Hill?” + </p> + <p> + “In that direction,” answered Mr. Wilding suavely. + </p> + <p> + “I am for London, Nick. And you shall come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “God save us! Do you keep a fool's egg under that nest of hair?” + </p> + <p> + Wilding explained, and by the time Walters returned with the boots + Trenchard was walking up and down the room in an odd agitation. “Odds my + life, Tony!” he cried at last. “I believe it is the best thing.” + </p> + <p> + “The only thing, Nick.” + </p> + <p> + “And since all is lost, why...” Trenchard blew out his cheeks and smacked + fist into palm. “I am with you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. JUSTICE + </h2> + <p> + It has fallen to my lot in the course of this veridical chronicle of Mr. + Anthony Wilding's connection with the Rebellion in the West, and of his + wedding and post-nuptial winning of Ruth Westmacott, to relate certain + matters of incident and personality that may be accounted strange. But the + strangest yet remains to be related. For in spite of all that had passed + between Sir Rowland Blake and the Westmacotts on that memorable night of + Sunday to Monday, on which the battle of Sedgemoor was lost and won, + towards the end of that same month of July we find him not only back at + Lupton House, but once again the avowed suitor of Mr. Wilding's widow. For + effrontery this is a matter of which it is to be doubted whether history + furnishes a parallel. Indeed, until the circumstances are sifted it seems + wild and incredible. So let us consider these. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow of Sedgemoor, the town of Bridgwater became invested—infested + were no whit too strong a word—by the King's forces under Feversham + and the odious Kirke, and there began a reign of terror for the town. The + prisons were choked with attainted and suspected rebels. From Bridgwater + to Weston Zoyland the road was become an avenue of gallows, each bearing + its repulsive grimace-laden burden; for the King's commands were + unequivocal, and hanging was the order of the day. + </p> + <p> + It is not my desire at this stage to surfeit you with the horrors that + were perpetrated during that hideous week of July, when no man's life was + safe from the royal butchers. The awful campaign of Jeffries and his four + associates was yet to follow, but it is doubtful if it could compare in + ruthlessness with that of Feversham and Kirke. At least, when Jeffries + came, men were given a trial—or what looked like it—and there + remained them a chance, however slender, of acquittal, as many lived to + prove thereafter. With Feversham there was no such chance. And it was of + this circumstance that Sir Rowland Blake took the fullest and the + cowardliest advantage. + </p> + <p> + There can be no doubt that Sir Rowland was a villain. It might be urged + for him that he was a creature of circumstance, and that had circumstances + been other it is possible he had been a credit to his name. But he was + weak in character, and out of that weakness he had developed a Herculean + strength in villainy. Failure had dogged him in everything he undertook. + Broken at the gaming-tables, hounded out of town by creditors, he was in + desperate straits to repair his fortunes and, as we have seen, he was not + nice in his endeavours to achieve that end. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Westmacott's fair inheritance had seemed an easy thing to conquer, + and to its conquest he had applied himself to suffer defeat as he had + suffered it in all things else. But Sir Rowland did not yet acknowledge + himself beaten, and the Bridgwater reign of terror dealt him a fresh hand—a + hand of trumps. With this he came boldly to renew the game. + </p> + <p> + He was as smooth as oil at first, a very penitent, confessing himself mad + in what he had done on that Sunday night—mad with despair and rage + at having been defeated in the noble task to which he had turned his + hands. His penitence might have had little effect upon the Westmacotts had + he not known how to insinuate that it might be best for them to lend an + ear to it—and a forgiving one. + </p> + <p> + “You will tell Mr. Westmacott, Jasper,” he had said, when Jasper told him + that they could not receive him, “that he would be unwise not to see me, + and the same to Mistress Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + And old Jasper had carried his message, and had told Richard of the wicked + smile that had been on Sir Rowland's lips when he had uttered it. + </p> + <p> + Now Richard was in many ways a changed man since that night at Weston + Zoyland. A transformation seemed to have been wrought in him as odd as it + was sudden, and it dated from the moment when with tears in his eyes he + had wrung Wilding's hand in farewell. Where precept had failed, Richard + found himself converted by example. He contrasted himself in that + stressful hour with great-souled Anthony Wilding, and saw himself as he + was, a weakling, strong only in vicious ways. Repentance claimed him; + repentance and a fine ambition to be worthier, to resemble as nearly as + his nature would allow him this Anthony Wilding whom he took for pattern. + He changed his ways, abandoned drink and gaming, and gained thereby a + healthier countenance. Then in his zeal he overshot his mark. He developed + a taste for Scripture-reading, bethought him of prayers, and even took to + saying grace to his meat. Indeed—for conversion, when it comes, is a + furious thing—the swing of his soul's pendulum threatened now to + carry him to extremes of virtue and piety. “O Lord!” he would cry a score + of times a day, “Thou hast brought up my soul from the grave; Thou hast + kept me alive that I should not go down to the pit!” + </p> + <p> + But underlying all this remained unfortunately the inherent weakness of + his nature—indeed, it was that very weakness and malleability made + this sudden and wholesale conversion possible. + </p> + <p> + Upon hearing Sir Rowland's message his heart fainted, despite his good + intentions, and he urged that perhaps they had better hear what the + baronet might have to say. + </p> + <p> + It was three days after Sedgemoor Fight, and poor Ruth was worn and + exhausted with her grief—believing Wilding dead, for he had sent no + message to inform her of his almost miraculous preservation. The thing he + went to do in London was fraught with such peril that he foresaw but the + slenderest chance of escaping with his life. Therefore, he had argued, why + console her now with news that he lived, when in a few days the headsman + might prove that his end had been but postponed? To do so might be to give + her cause to mourn him twice. Again he was haunted by the thought that, in + spite of all, it may have been pity that had so grievously moved her at + their last meeting. Better, then, to wait; better for both their sakes. If + he came safely through his ordeal it would be time enough to bear her news + of his preservation. + </p> + <p> + In deepest mourning, very white, with dark stains beneath her eyes to tell + the tale of anguished vigils, she received Sir Rowland in the + withdrawing-room, her brother at her side. To his expressions of deep + penitence he found them cold; so he passed on to show them what disastrous + results might ensue upon a stubborn maintaining of this attitude of theirs + towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” he said, his eyes downcast, his face long-drawn, for he + could play the sorrowful with any hypocrite in England, “to do something + more than speak of my grief and regret. I have come to offer proof of it + by service. + </p> + <p> + “We ask no service of you, sir,” said Ruth, her voice a sword of + sharpness. + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and turned to Richard. “This were folly,” he assured his whilom + friend. “You know the influence I wield.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” quoth Richard, his tone implying doubt. + </p> + <p> + “You think that the bungled matter at Newlington's may have shaken it?” + quoth Blake. “With Feversham, perhaps. But Albemarle, remember, trusts me + very fully. There are ugly happenings in the town here. Men are being hung + like linen on a washing-day. Be not too sure that yourself are free from + all danger.” Richard paled under the baronet's baleful, half-sneering + glance. “Be not in too great haste to cast me aside, for you may find me + useful.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you threaten, sir?” cried Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Threaten?” quoth he. He turned up his eyes and showed the whites of them. + “Is it to threaten to promise you my protection; to show you how I can + serve you?—than which I ask no sweeter boon of heaven. A word from + me, and Richard need fear nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “He need fear nothing without that word,” said Ruth disdainfully. “Such + service as he did Lord Feversham the other night...” + </p> + <p> + “Is soon forgotten,” Blake cut in adroitly. “Indeed, 'twill be most + convenient to his lordship to forget it. Think you he would care to have + it known that 'twas to such a chance he owes the preservation of his + army?” He laughed, and added in a voice of much sly meaning, “The times + are full of peril. There's Kirke and his lambs. And there's no saying how + Kirke might act did he chance to learn what Richard failed to do that + night when he was left to guard the rear at Newlington's!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you inform him of it?” cried Richard, between anger and alarm. + </p> + <p> + Blake thrust out his hands in a gesture of horrified repudiation. + “Richard!” he cried in deep reproof and again, “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “What other tongue has he to fear?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Am I the only one who knows of it?” cried Blake. “Oh, madam, why will you + ever do me such injustice? Richard has been my friend—my dearest + friend. I wish him so to continue, and I swear that he shall find me his, + as you shall find me yours.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a boon I could dispense with,” she assured him, and rose. “This + talk can profit little, Sir Rowland,” said she. “You seek to bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see how unjust you are,” he cried with deep sorrow. “It is but + fitting, perhaps, after what has passed. It is my punishment. But you + shall come to acknowledge that you have done me wrong. You shall see how I + shall befriend and protect him.” + </p> + <p> + That said, he took his leave and went, but he left behind him a shrewd + seed of fear in Richard's mind, and of the growth that sprang from it + Richard almost unconsciously transplanted something in the days that + followed into the heart of Ruth. As a result, to make sure that no harm + should come to her brother, the last of his name and race, she resolved to + receive Sir Rowland, resolved in spite of Diana's outspoken scorn, in + spite of Richard's protests—for though afraid, yet he would not have + it so—in spite even of her own deep repugnance of the man. + </p> + <p> + Days passed and grew to weeks. Bridgwater was settling down to peace again—to + peace and mourning; the Royalist scourge had spread to Taunton, and Blake + lingered on at Lupton House, an unwelcome but an undeniable guest. + </p> + <p> + His presence was as detestable to Richard now as it was to Ruth, for + Richard had to submit to the mockery with which the town rake lashed his + godly bearing and altered ways. More than once in gusts of sudden valour + the boy urged his sister to permit him to drive the baronet from the house + and let him do his worst. But Ruth, afraid for Richard, bade him wait + until the times were more settled. When the royal vengeance had slaked its + lust for blood it might matter little, perhaps, what tales Sir Rowland + might elect to carry. + </p> + <p> + And so Sir Rowland remained and waited. He assured himself that he knew + how to be patient, and congratulated himself upon that circumstance. + Wilding dead, a little time must now suffice to blunt the sharp edge of + his widow's grief; let him but await that time, and the rest should be + easy, the battle his. With Richard he did not so much as trouble himself + to reckon. + </p> + <p> + Thus he determined, and thus no doubt he would have acted but for an + unforeseen contingency. A miserable, paltry creditor had smoked him out in + his Somerset retreat, and got a letter to him full of dark hints of a + debtor's gaol. The fellow's name was Swiney, and Sir Rowland knew him for + fierce and pertinacious where a defaulting creditor was concerned. One + only course remained him: to force matters with Wilding's widow. For days + he refrained, fearing that precipitancy might lose him all; it was his + wish to do the thing without too much coercion; some, he was not coxcomb + enough to think—coxcomb though he was—might be dispensed with. + </p> + <p> + At last one Sunday evening he decided to be done with dallying, and to + bring Ruth between the hammer and the anvil of his will. It was the last + Sunday in July, exactly three weeks after Sedgemoor, and the odd + coincidence of his having chosen such a day and hour you shall appreciate + anon. + </p> + <p> + They were on the lawn taking the cool of the evening after an oppressively + hot day. By the stone seat, now occupied by Lady Horton and Diana, Richard + lay on the sward at their feet in talk with them, and their talk was of + Sir Rowland. Diana—gall in her soul to see the baronet by way of + gaining yet his ends—chid Richard in strong terms for his weakness + in submitting to Blake's constant presence at Lupton House. And Richard + meekly took her chiding and promised that, if Ruth would but sanction it, + things should be changed upon the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Sir Rowland, all unconscious—reckless, indeed—of this, + sauntered with Ruth some little distance from them, having contrived + adroitly to draw her aside. He broke a spell of silence with a dolorous + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” said he pensively, “I mind me of the last evening on which you and + I walked here alone.” + </p> + <p> + She flashed him a glance of fear and aversion, and stood still. Under his + brow he watched the quick heave of her bosom, the sudden flow and abiding + ebb of blood in her face—grown now so thin and wistful—and he + realized that before him lay no easy task. He set his teeth for battle. + </p> + <p> + “Will you never have a kindness for me, Ruth?” he sighed. + </p> + <p> + She turned about, her intent to join the others, a dull anger in her soul. + He sat a hand upon her arm. “Wait!” said he, and the tone in which he + uttered that one word kept her beside him. His manner changed a little. “I + am tired of this,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Why, so am I,” she answered bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Since we are agreed so far, let us agree to end it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all I ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—alas!—in a different way. Listen now.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not listen. Let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “I were your enemy did I do so, for you would know hereafter a sorrow and + repentance for which nothing short of death could offer you escape. + Richard is under suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hark back to that?” The scorn of her voice was deadly. Had it been + herself he desired, surely that tone had quenched all passion in him, or + else transformed it into hatred. But Blake was playing for a fortune, for + shelter from a debtor's prison. + </p> + <p> + “It has become known,” he continued, “that Richard was one of the early + plotters who paved the way for Monmouth's coming. I think that that, in + conjunction with his betrayal of his trust that night at Newlington's, + thereby causing the death of some twenty gallant fellows of King James's, + will be enough to hang him.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand clutched at her heart. “What is't you seek?” she cried. It was + almost a moan. “What is't you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself,” said he. “I love you, Ruth,” he added, and stepped close up to + her. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” she cried aloud. “Had I a man at hand to kill you for that + insult!” + </p> + <p> + And then—miracle of miracles!—a voice from the shrubs by which + they stood bore to her ears the startling words that told her her prayer + was answered there and then. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, that man is here.” + </p> + <p> + She stood frozen. Not more of a statue was Lot's wife in the moment of + looking behind her than she who dared not look behind. That voice! A voice + from the dead, a voice she had heard for the last time in the cottage that + was Feversham's lodging at Weston Zoyland. Her wild eyes fell upon Sir + Rowland's face. It showed livid; the nether-lip sucked in and caught in + the strong teeth, as if to prevent an outcry; the eyes wild with fright. + What did it mean? By an effort she wrenched herself round at last, and a + scream broke from her to rouse her aunt, her cousin, and her brother, and + bring them hastening towards her across the sweep of lawn. + </p> + <p> + Before her, on the edge of the shrubbery, a grey figure stood erect and + graceful, and the face, with its thin lips faintly smiling, its dark eyes + gleaming, was the face of Anthony Wilding. And as she stared he moved + forward, and she heard the fall of his foot upon the turf, the clink of + his spurs, the swish of his scabbard against the shrubs, and reason told + her that this was no ghost. + </p> + <p> + She held out her arms to him. “Anthony! Anthony!” She staggered forward, + and he was no more than in time to catch her as she swayed. + </p> + <p> + He held her fast against him and kissed her brow. “Sweet,” he said, + “forgive me that I frightened you. I came by the orchard gate, and my + coming was so timely that I could not hold in my answer to your cry.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyelids fluttered, she drew a long sighing breath, and nestled closer + to him. “Anthony!” she murmured again, and reached up a hand to stroke his + face, to feel that it was truly living flesh. + </p> + <p> + And Sir Rowland, realizing, too, by now that here was no ghost, recovered + his lost courage. He put a hand to his sword, then withdrew it, leaving + the weapon sheathed. Here was a hangman's job, not a swordsman's, he + opined—and wisely, for he had had earlier experience of Mr. + Wilding's play of steel. + </p> + <p> + He advanced a step. “O fool!” he snarled. “The hangman waits for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And a creditor for you, Sir Rowland,” came the voice of Mr. Trenchard, + who now pushed forward through those same shrubs that had masked his + friend's approach. “A Mr. Swiney. 'Twas I sent him from town. He's lodged + at the Bull, and bellows like one when he speaks of what you owe him. + There are three messengers with him, and they tell of a debtor's gaol for + you, sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + A spasm of fury crossed the face of Blake. “They may have me, and welcome, + when I've told my tale,” said he. “Let me but tell of Anthony Wilding's + lurking here, and not only Anthony Wilding, but all the rest of you are + doomed for harbouring him. You know the law, I think,” he mocked them, for + Lady Horton, Diana, and Richard, who had come up, stood now a pace or so + away in deepest wonder. “You shall know it better before the night is out, + and better still before next Sunday's come.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” said Trenchard, and quoted, “'There's none but Anthony may conquer + Anthony.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis clear,” said Wilding, “you take me for a rebel. An odd mistake! For + it chances, Sir Rowland, that you behold in me an accredited servant of + the Secretary of State.” + </p> + <p> + Blake stared, then fell a prey to ironic laughter. He would have spoken, + but Mr. Wilding plucked a paper from his pocket, and handed it to + Trenchard. + </p> + <p> + “Show it him,” said he, and Blake's face grew white again as he read the + lines above Sunderland's signature and observed the seals of office. He + looked from the paper to the hated smiling face of Mr. Wilding. + </p> + <p> + “You were a spy?” he said, his tone making a question of the odious + statement. “A dirty spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Your incredulity is flattering, at least,” said Wilding pleasantly as he + repocketed the parchment, “and it leads you in the right direction. I + neither was nor am a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “That paper proves it!” cried Blake contemptuously. Having been a spy + himself, he was a good judge of the vileness of the office. + </p> + <p> + “See to my wife, Nick,” said Wilding sharply, and made as if to transfer + her to the care of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Trenchard, “'tis your own duty that. Let me discharge the + other for you.” And he stepped up to Blake and tapped him briskly on the + shoulder. “Sir Rowland,” said he, “you're a knave.” Sir Rowland stared at + him. “You're a foul thing—a muckworm—Sir Rowland,” added + Trenchard amiably, “and you've been discourteous to a lady, for which may + Heaven forgive you—I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” Blake bade him, hoarse with passion, blind to all risks. + “My affair is with Mr. Wilding.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said Trenchard, “but mine is with you. If you survive it, you can + settle what other affairs you please—including, belike, your + business with Mr. Swiney.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so, Nick,” said Wilding suddenly, and turned to Richard. “Here, + Richard! Take her,” he bade his brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Anthony, you damned shirk-duty, see to your wife. Leave me to my own + diversions. Sir Rowland,” he reminded the baronet, “I have called you a + knave and a foul thing, and faith! if you want it proven, you need but + step down the orchard with me.” + </p> + <p> + He saw hesitation lingering in Sir Rowland's face, and he uncurled the + last of the whip he carried. “I'd grieve to do a violent thing before the + ladies,” he murmured deprecatingly. “I'd never respect myself again if I + had to drive a gentleman of your quality to the ground of honour with a + horsewhip. But, as God's my life, if you don't go willingly this instant, + 'tis what will happen.” + </p> + <p> + Richard's newborn righteousness prompted him to interfere, to seek to + avert this threatened bloodshed; his humanity urged him to let matters be, + and his humanity prevailed. Diana watched this foreshadowing of tragedy + with tight lips, pale cheeks. Justice was to be done at last, it seemed, + and as her frightened eye fell upon Sir Rowland she knew not whether to + exult or weep. Her mother—understanding nothing—plied her + meanwhile with whispered questions. + </p> + <p> + As for Sir Rowland, he looked into the old rake's eyes agleam with wicked + mirth, and rage welled up to choke him. He must kill this man. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he. “I'll see to your fine friend Wilding afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent,” said Trenchard, and led the way through the shrubbery to the + orchard. + </p> + <p> + Ruth, reviving, looked up. Her glance met Mr. Wilding's; it quickened into + understanding, and she stirred. “Is it true? Is it really true?” she + cried. “I am being tortured by this dream again!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sweet, it is true; it is true. I am here. Say, shall I stay?” + </p> + <p> + She clung to him for answer. “And you are in no danger?” + </p> + <p> + “In none, sweet. I am Mr. Wilding of Zoyland Chase, free to come and go as + best shall seem to me.” He begged the others to leave them a little while, + and he led her to the stone seat by the river. He set her at his side + there and told her the story of his escape from the firing-party, and of + the inspiration that had come to him on the morrow to make use of the + letter in his boot which Sunderland had given him for Monmouth in the hour + of panic. Monmouth's cavalier treatment of him when he had arrived in + Bridgwater had precluded his delivering that letter at the council. There + was never another opportunity, nor did he again think of the package in + the stressful hours that followed. It was not until the following morning + that he suddenly remembered it lay undelivered, and bethought him that it + might prove a weapon to win him delivery from the dangers that encompassed + him. + </p> + <p> + “It was a slender chance,” he told her, “but I employed it. I waited in + London, in hiding, close upon a fortnight ere I had an opportunity of + seeing Sunderland. He laughed me to scorn at first, and threatened me with + the Tower. But I told him the letter was in safe hands and would remain + there in earnest of his good behaviour, and that did he have me arrested + it would instantly be laid before the King and bring his own head to the + block more surely even than my own. It frightened him; but it had scarcely + done so, sweet, had he known that that precious letter was still in my + boot, for my boot was on my leg, and my leg was in the room with the rest + of me. + </p> + <p> + “He surrendered at last, and gave me papers proving that Trenchard and I—for + I stipulated for old Nick's safety too—were His Majesty's accredited + agents in the West. I loathed the title. But...”—he spread his hands + and smiled—“it was that or widowing you.” + </p> + <p> + She took his face in her hands and stroked it fondly, and they sat thus + until a dry cough behind them roused them from their joyous silence. Mr. + Trenchard was sauntering towards them, his left eye tucked farther under + his hat than usual, his hands behind him. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a thirsty evening,” he informed them. + </p> + <p> + “Go, tell Richard so,” said Wilding, who knew naught of Richard's altered + ways. + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of it; but haply he's sensitive on the score of drinking + with me again. He has done it twice to his undoing.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll do it a third time, no doubt,” said Mr. Wilding curtly, and + Trenchard, taking the hint, turned with a shrug, and went up the lawn + towards the house. He found Richard in the porch, where he had lingered + fearfully, waiting for news. At sight of Mr. Trenchard's grim, + weather-beaten countenance he came forward suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “How has it sped?” he asked, his lips twitching on the words. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder they sit,” said Trenchard, pointing down the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I mean... Sir Rowland.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Rowland?” cried the old sinner, as though Sir Rowland were some + matter long forgotten. He sighed. “Alas, poor Swiney! I fear I've cheated + him.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Art slow at inference, Dick. Sir Rowland has passed away in the odour of + villainy.” + </p> + <p> + Richard clasped nervous hands together and raised his colourless eyes to + heaven. + </p> + <p> + “May the Lord have mercy on his soul!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “May He, indeed!” said Trenchard, when he had recovered from his surprise. + “But,” he added pessimistically, “I doubt the rogue's in hell.” + </p> + <p> + Richard's eyes kindled suddenly, and he quoted from the thirtieth Psalm, + “'I will extol thee, O Lord; for Thou hast lifted me up, and hast not made + my foes to rejoice over me.'” + </p> + <p> + Dumbfounded, wondering, indeed, was Westmacott's mind unhinged, Trenchard + scanned him narrowly. Richard caught the glance and misinterpreted it for + one of reproof. He bethought him that his joy was unrighteous. He stifled + it, and forced his lips to sigh “Poor Blake!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, indeed!” quoth Trenchard, and adapted a remembered line of his + play-acting days to suit the case. “The tears live in an onion that shall + water his grave. Though, perhaps, I am forgetting Swiney.” Then, in a + brisker tone, “Come, Richard. What like is the muscadine you keep at + Lupton House?” + </p> + <p> + “I have abjured all wine,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “A plague you have!” quoth Trenchard, understanding less and less. “Have + you turned Mussulman, perchance?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Richard sternly; “Christian.” + </p> + <p> + Trenchard hesitated, rubbing his nose thoughtfully. “Hum,” said he at + length. “Peace be with you, then. I'll leave you here to bay the moon to + your heart's content. Perhaps Jasper will know where to find me a + brain-wash.” And with a final suspicious, wondering look at the whilom + bibber, he passed into the house, much exercised on the score of the + sanity of this family into which his friend Anthony had married. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the twilight shadows were deepening. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we home, sweet?” whispered Mr. Wilding. The shadows befriended her, + a veil for her sudden confusion. She breathed something that seemed no + more than a sigh, though more it seemed to Anthony Wilding. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1457 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |