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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1550-h.zip b/1550-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcd2813 --- /dev/null +++ b/1550-h.zip diff --git a/1550-h/1550-h.htm b/1550-h/1550-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c790078 --- /dev/null +++ b/1550-h/1550-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7975 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>A Lady of Quality</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">A Lady of Quality, by Frances Hodgson Burnett</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Lady of Quality, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Lady of Quality + + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: March 24, 2005 [eBook #1550] +[Last updated: December 9, 2011] + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LADY OF QUALITY*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1896 Frederick Warne & Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>A LADY OF QUALITY</h1> +<p>Being a most curious, hitherto unknown<br /> +history, as related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff<br /> +but not presented to the World of<br /> +Fashion through the pages of<br /> +The Tatler, and now for the<br /> +first time written down<br /> +by<br /> +Francis Hodgson Burnett</p> +<blockquote><p>Were Nature just to Man from his first hour, he need +not ask for Mercy; then ’tis for us—the toys of Nature—to +be both just and merciful, for so only can the wrongs she does be undone.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>CHAPTER I—The twenty-fourth day of November 1690</h2> +<p>On a wintry morning at the close of 1690, the sun shining faint and +red through a light fog, there was a great noise of baying dogs, loud +voices, and trampling of horses in the courtyard at Wildairs Hall; Sir +Jeoffry being about to go forth a-hunting, and being a man with a choleric +temper and big, loud voice, and given to oaths and noise even when in +good-humour, his riding forth with his friends at any time was attended +with boisterous commotion. This morning it was more so than usual, +for he had guests with him who had come to his house the day before, +and had supped late and drunk deeply, whereby the day found them, some +with headaches, some with a nausea at their stomachs, and some only +in an evil humour which made them curse at their horses when they were +restless, and break into loud surly laughs when a coarse joke was made. +There were many such jokes, Sir Jeoffry and his boon companions being +renowned throughout the county for the freedom of their conversation +as for the scandal of their pastimes, and this day ’twas well +indeed, as their loud-voiced, oath-besprinkled jests rang out on the +cold air, that there were no ladies about to ride forth with them.</p> +<p>’Twas Sir Jeoffry who was louder than any other, he having +drunk even deeper than the rest, and though ’twas his boast that +he could carry a bottle more than any man, and see all his guests under +the table, his last night’s bout had left him in ill-humour and +boisterous. He strode about, casting oaths at the dogs and rating +the servants, and when he mounted his big black horse ’twas amid +such a clamour of voices and baying hounds that the place was like Pandemonium.</p> +<p>He was a large man of florid good looks, black eyes, and full habit +of body, and had been much renowned in his youth for his great strength, +which was indeed almost that of a giant, and for his deeds of prowess +in the saddle and at the table when the bottle went round. There +were many evil stories of his roysterings, but it was not his way to +think of them as evil, but rather to his credit as a man of the world, +for, when he heard that they were gossiped about, he greeted the information +with a loud triumphant laugh. He had married, when she was fifteen, +the blooming toast of the county, for whom his passion had long died +out, having indeed departed with the honeymoon, which had been of the +briefest, and afterwards he having borne her a grudge for what he chose +to consider her undutiful conduct. This grudge was founded on +the fact that, though she had presented him each year since their marriage +with a child, after nine years had passed none had yet been sons, and, +as he was bitterly at odds with his next of kin, he considered each +of his offspring an ill turn done him.</p> +<p>He spent but little time in her society, for she was a poor, gentle +creature of no spirit, who found little happiness in her lot, since +her lord treated her with scant civility, and her children one after +another sickened and died in their infancy until but two were left. +He scarce remembered her existence when he did not see her face, and +he was certainly not thinking of her this morning, having other things +in view, and yet it so fell out that, while a groom was shortening a +stirrup and being sworn at for his awkwardness, he by accident cast +his eye upward to a chamber window peering out of the thick ivy on the +stone. Doing so he saw an old woman draw back the curtain and +look down upon him as if searching for him with a purpose.</p> +<p>He uttered an exclamation of anger.</p> +<p>“Damnation! Mother Posset again,” he said. +“What does she there, old frump?”</p> +<p>The curtain fell and the woman disappeared, but in a few minutes +more an unheard-of thing happened—among the servants in the hall, +the same old woman appeared making her way with a hurried fretfulness, +and she descended haltingly the stone steps and came to his side where +he sat on his black horse.</p> +<p>“The Devil!” he exclaimed—“what are you here +for? ’Tis not time for another wench upstairs, surely?”</p> +<p>“’Tis not time,” answered the old nurse acidly, +taking her tone from his own. “But there is one, but an hour old, +and my lady—”</p> +<p>“Be damned to her!” quoth Sir Jeoffry savagely. +“A ninth one—and ’tis nine too many. ’Tis +more than man can bear. She does it but to spite me.”</p> +<p>“’Tis ill treatment for a gentleman who wants an heir,” +the old woman answered, as disrespectful of his spouse as he was, being +a time-serving crone, and knowing that it paid but poorly to coddle +women who did not as their husbands would have them in the way of offspring. +“It should have been a fine boy, but it is not, and my lady—”</p> +<p>“Damn her puling tricks!” said Sir Jeoffry again, pulling +at his horse’s bit until the beast reared.</p> +<p>“She would not let me rest until I came to you,” said +the nurse resentfully. “She would have you told that she +felt strangely, and before you went forth would have a word with you.”</p> +<p>“I cannot come, and am not in the mood for it if I could,” +was his answer. “What folly does she give way to? +This is the ninth time she hath felt strangely, and I have felt as squeamish +as she—but nine is more than I have patience for.”</p> +<p>“She is light-headed, mayhap,” said the nurse. +“She lieth huddled in a heap, staring and muttering, and she would +leave me no peace till I promised to say to you, ‘For the sake +of poor little Daphne, whom you will sure remember.’ She +pinched my hand and said it again and again.”</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry dragged at his horse’s mouth and swore again.</p> +<p>“She was fifteen then, and had not given me nine yellow-faced +wenches,” he said. “Tell her I had gone a-hunting +and you were too late;” and he struck his big black beast with +the whip, and it bounded away with him, hounds and huntsmen and fellow-roysterers +galloping after, his guests, who had caught at the reason of his wrath, +grinning as they rode.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>In a huge chamber hung with tattered tapestries and barely set forth +with cumbersome pieces of furnishing, my lady lay in a gloomy, canopied +bed, with her new-born child at her side, but not looking at or touching +it, seeming rather to have withdrawn herself from the pillow on which +it lay in its swaddling-clothes.</p> +<p>She was but a little lady, and now, as she lay in the large bed, +her face and form shrunken and drawn with suffering, she looked scarce +bigger than a child. In the brief days of her happiness those +who toasted her had called her Titania for her fairy slightness and +delicate beauty, but then her fair wavy locks had been of a length that +touched the ground when her woman unbound them, and she had had the +colour of a wild rose and the eyes of a tender little fawn. Sir +Jeoffry for a month or so had paid tempestuous court to her, and had +so won her heart with his dashing way of love-making and the daringness +of his reputation, that she had thought herself—being child enough +to think so—the luckiest young lady in the world that his black +eye should have fallen upon her with favour. Each year since, +with the bearing of each child, she had lost some of her beauty. +With each one her lovely hair fell out still more, her wild-rose colour +faded, and her shape was spoiled. She grew thin and yellow, only +a scant covering of the fair hair was left her, and her eyes were big +and sunken. Her marriage having displeased her family, and Sir +Jeoffry having a distaste for the ceremonies of visiting and entertainment, +save where his own cronies were concerned, she had no friends, and grew +lonelier and lonelier as the sad years went by. She being so without +hope and her life so dreary, her children were neither strong nor beautiful, +and died quickly, each one bringing her only the anguish of birth and +death. This wintry morning her ninth lay slumbering by her side; +the noise of baying dogs and boisterous men had died away with the last +sound of the horses’ hoofs; the little light which came into the +room through the ivied window was a faint yellowish red; she was cold, +because the fire in the chimney was but a scant, failing one; she was +alone—and she knew that the time had come for her death. +This she knew full well.</p> +<p>She was alone, because, being so disrespected and deserted by her +lord, and being of a timid and gentle nature, she could not command +her insufficient retinue of servants, and none served her as was their +duty. The old woman Sir Jeoffry had dubbed Mother Posset had been +her sole attendant at such times as these for the past five years, because +she would come to her for a less fee than a better woman, and Sir Jeoffry +had sworn he would not pay for wenches being brought into the world. +She was a slovenly, guzzling old crone, who drank caudle from morning +till night, and demanded good living as a support during the performance +of her trying duties; but these last she contrived to make wondrous +light, knowing that there was none to reprove her.</p> +<p>“A fine night I have had,” she had grumbled when she +brought back Sir Jeoffry’s answer to her lady’s message. +“My old bones are like to break, and my back will not straighten +itself. I will go to the kitchen to get victuals and somewhat +to warm me; your ladyship’s own woman shall sit with you.”</p> +<p>Her ladyship’s “own woman” was also the sole attendant +of the two little girls, Barbara and Anne, whose nursery was in another +wing of the house, and my lady knew full well she would not come if +she were told, and that there would be no message sent to her.</p> +<p>She knew, too, that the fire was going out, but, though she shivered +under the bed-clothes, she was too weak to call the woman back when +she saw her depart without putting fresh fuel upon it.</p> +<p>So she lay alone, poor lady, and there was no sound about her, and +her thin little mouth began to feebly quiver, and her great eyes, which +stared at the hangings, to fill with slow cold tears, for in sooth they +were not warm, but seemed to chill her poor cheeks as they rolled slowly +down them, leaving a wet streak behind them which she was too far gone +in weakness to attempt to lift her hand to wipe away.</p> +<p>“Nine times like this,” she panted faintly, “and +’tis for naught but oaths and hard words that blame me. +I was but a child myself and he loved me. When ’twas ‘My +Daphne,’ and ‘My beauteous little Daphne,’ he loved +me in his own man’s way. But now—” she faintly +rolled her head from side to side. “Women are poor things”—a +chill salt tear sliding past her lips so that she tasted its bitterness—“only +to be kissed for an hour, and then like this—only for this and +nothing else. I would that this one had been dead.”</p> +<p>Her breath came slower and more pantingly, and her eyes stared more +widely.</p> +<p>“I was but a child,” she whispered—“a child—as—as +this will be—if she lives fifteen years.”</p> +<p>Despite her weakness, and it was great and woefully increasing with +each panting breath, she slowly laboured to turn herself towards the +pillow on which her offspring lay, and, this done, she lay staring at +the child and gasping, her thin chest rising and falling convulsively. +Ah, how she panted, and how she stared, the glaze of death stealing +slowly over her wide-opened eyes; and yet, dimming as they were, they +saw in the sleeping infant a strange and troublous thing—though +it was but a few hours old ’twas not as red and crumple visaged +as new-born infants usually are, its little head was covered with thick +black silk, and its small features were of singular definiteness. +She dragged herself nearer to gaze.</p> +<p>“She looks not like the others,” she said. “They +had no beauty—and are safe. She—she will be like—Jeoffry—and +like <i>me</i>.”</p> +<p>The dying fire fell lower with a shuddering sound.</p> +<p>“If she is—beautiful, and has but her father, and no +mother!” she whispered, the words dragged forth slowly, “only +evil can come to her. From her first hour—she will know +naught else, poor heart, poor heart!”</p> +<p>There was a rattling in her throat as she breathed, but in her glazing +eyes a gleam like passion leaped, and gasping, she dragged nearer.</p> +<p>“’Tis not fair,” she cried. “If I—if +I could lay my hand upon thy mouth—and stop thy breathing—thou +poor thing, ’twould be fairer—but—I have no strength.”</p> +<p>She gathered all her dying will and brought her hand up to the infant’s +mouth. A wild look was on her poor, small face, she panted and +fell forward on its breast, the rattle in her throat growing louder. +The child awakened, opening great black eyes, and with her dying weakness +its new-born life struggled. Her cold hand lay upon its mouth, +and her head upon its body, for she was too far gone to move if she +had willed to do so. But the tiny creature’s strength was +marvellous. It gasped, it fought, its little limbs struggled beneath +her, it writhed until the cold hand fell away, and then, its baby mouth +set free, it fell a-shrieking. Its cries were not like those of +a new-born thing, but fierce and shrill, and even held the sound of +infant passion. ’Twas not a thing to let its life go easily, +’twas of those born to do battle.</p> +<p>Its lusty screaming pierced her ear perhaps—she drew a long, +slow breath, and then another, and another still—the last one +trembled and stopped short, and the last cinder fell dead from the fire.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>When the nurse came bustling and fretting back, the chamber was cold +as the grave’s self—there were only dead embers on the hearth, +the new-born child’s cries filled all the desolate air, and my +lady was lying stone dead, her poor head resting on her offspring’s +feet, the while her open glazed eyes seemed to stare at it as if in +asking Fate some awful question.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER II—In which Sir Jeoffry encounters his offspring</h2> +<p>In a remote wing of the house, in barren, ill-kept rooms, the poor +infants of the dead lady had struggled through their brief lives, and +given them up, one after the other. Sir Jeoffry had not wished +to see them, nor had he done so, but upon the rarest occasions, and +then nearly always by some untoward accident. The six who had +died, even their mother had scarcely wept for; her weeping had been +that they should have been fated to come into the world, and when they +went out of it she knew she need not mourn their going as untimely. +The two who had not perished, she had regarded sadly day by day, seeing +they had no beauty and that their faces promised none. Naught +but great beauty would have excused their existence in their father’s +eyes, as beauty might have helped them to good matches which would have +rid him of them. But ’twas the sad ill fortune of the children +Anne and Barbara to have been treated by Nature in a way but niggardly. +They were pale young misses, with insignificant faces and snub noses, +resembling an aunt who died a spinster, as they themselves seemed most +likely to. Sir Jeoffry could not bear the sight of them, and they +fled at the sound of his footsteps, if it so happened that by chance +they heard it, huddling together in corners, and slinking behind doors +or anything big enough to hide them. They had no playthings and +no companions and no pleasures but such as the innocent invention of +childhood contrives for itself.</p> +<p>After their mother’s death a youth desolate and strange indeed +lay before them. A spinster who was a poor relation was the only +person of respectable breeding who ever came near them. To save +herself from genteel starvation, she had offered herself for the place +of governess to them, though she was fitted for the position neither +by education nor character. Mistress Margery Wimpole was a poor, +dull creature, having no wilful harm in her, but endowed with neither +dignity nor wit. She lived in fear of Sir Jeoffry, and in fear +of the servants, who knew full well that she was an humble dependant, +and treated her as one. She hid away with her pupils in +the bare school-room in the west wing, and taught them to spell and +write and work samplers. She herself knew no more.</p> +<p>The child who had cost her mother her life had no happier prospect +than her sisters. Her father felt her more an intruder than they +had been, he being of the mind that to house and feed and clothe, howsoever +poorly, these three burdens on him was a drain scarcely to be borne. +His wife had been a toast and not a fortune, and his estate not being +great, he possessed no more than his drinking, roystering, and gambling +made full demands upon.</p> +<p>The child was baptized Clorinda, and bred, so to speak, from her +first hour, in the garret and the servants’ hall. Once only +did her father behold her during her infancy, which event was a mere +accident, as he had expressed no wish to see her, and only came upon +her in the nurse’s arms some weeks after her mother’s death. +’Twas quite by chance. The woman, who was young and buxom, +had begun an intrigue with a groom, and having a mind to see him, was +crossing the stable-yard, carrying her charge with her, when Sir Jeoffry +came by to visit a horse.</p> +<p>The woman came plump upon him, entering a stable as he came out of +it; she gave a frightened start, and almost let the child drop, at which +it set up a strong, shrill cry, and thus Sir Jeoffry saw it, and seeing +it, was thrown at once into a passion which expressed itself after the +manner of all his emotion, and left the nurse quaking with fear.</p> +<p>“Thunder and damnation!” he exclaimed, as he strode away +after the encounter; “’tis the ugliest yet. A yellow-faced +girl brat, with eyes like an owl’s in an ivy-bush, and with a +voice like a very peacocks. Another mawking, plain slut that no +man will take off my hands.”</p> +<p>He did not see her again for six years. But little wit was +needed to learn that ’twas best to keep her out of his sight, +as her sisters were kept, and this was done without difficulty, as he +avoided the wing of the house where the children lived, as if it were +stricken with the plague.</p> +<p>But the child Clorinda, it seemed, was of lustier stock than her +older sisters, and this those about her soon found out to their grievous +disturbance. When Mother Posset had drawn her from under her dead +mother’s body she had not left shrieking for an hour, but had +kept up her fierce cries until the roof rang with them, and the old +woman had jogged her about and beat her back in the hopes of stifling +her, until she was exhausted and dismayed. For the child would +not be stilled, and seemed to have such strength and persistence in +her as surely infant never showed before.</p> +<p>“Never saw I such a brat among all I have brought into the +world,” old Posset quavered. “She hath the voice of +a six-months boy. It cracks my very ears. Hush thee, then, +thou little wild cat.”</p> +<p>This was but the beginning. From the first she grew apace, +and in a few months was a bouncing infant, with a strong back, and a +power to make herself heard such as had not before appeared in the family. +When she desired a thing, she yelled and roared with such a vigour as +left no peace for any creature about her until she was humoured, and +this being the case, rather than have their conversation and love-making +put a stop to, the servants gave her her way. In this they but +followed the example of their betters, of whom we know that it is not +to the most virtuous they submit or to the most learned, but to those +who, being crossed, can conduct themselves in a manner so disagreeable, +shrewish or violent, that life is a burden until they have their will. +This the child Clorinda had the infant wit to discover early, and having +once discovered it, she never ceased to take advantage of her knowledge. +Having found in the days when her one desire was pap, that she had but +to roar lustily enough to find it beside her in her porringer, she tried +the game upon all other occasions. When she had reached but a +twelvemonth, she stood stoutly upon her little feet, and beat her sisters +to gain their playthings, and her nurse for wanting to change her smock. +She was so easily thrown into furies, and so raged and stamped in her +baby way that she was a sight to behold, and the men-servants found +amusement in badgering her. To set Mistress Clorinda in their +midst on a winter’s night when they were dull, and to torment +her until her little face grew scarlet with the blood which flew up +into it, and she ran from one to the other beating them and screaming +like a young spitfire, was among them a favourite entertainment.</p> +<p>“Ifackens!” said the butler one night, “but she +is as like Sir Jeoffry in her temper as one pea is like another. +Ay, but she grows blood red just as he does, and curses in her little +way as he does in man’s words among his hounds in their kennel.”</p> +<p>“And she will be of his build, too,” said the housekeeper. +“What mishap changed her to a maid instead of a boy, I know not. +She would have made a strapping heir. She has the thigh and shoulders +of a handsome man-child at this hour, and she is not three years old.”</p> +<p>“Sir Jeoffry missed his mark when he called her an ugly brat,” +said the woman who had nursed her. “She will be a handsome +woman—though large in build, it may be. She will be a brown +beauty, but she will have a colour in her cheeks and lips like the red +of Christmas holly, and her owl’s eyes are as black as sloes, +and have fringes on them like the curtains of a window. See how +her hair grows thick on her little head, and how it curls in great rings. +My lady, her poor mother, was once a beauty, but she was no such beauty +as this one will be, for she has her father’s long limbs and fine +shoulders, and the will to make every man look her way.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the housekeeper, who was an elderly woman, +“there will be doings—there will be doings when she is a +ripe young maid. She will take her way, and God grant she mayn’t +be <i>too</i> like her father and follow his.”</p> +<p>It was true that she had no resemblance to her plain sisters, and +bore no likeness to them in character. The two elder children, +Anne and Barbara, were too meek-spirited to be troublesome; but during +Clorinda’s infancy Mistress Margery Wimpole watched her rapid +growth with fear and qualms. She dare not reprove the servants +who were ruining her by their treatment, and whose manners were forming +her own. Sir Jeoffry’s servants were no more moral than +their master, and being brought up as she was among them, their young +mistress became strangely familiar with many sights and sounds it is +not the fortune of most young misses of breeding to see and hear. +The cooks and kitchen-wenches were flighty with the grooms and men-servants, +and little Mistress Clorinda, having a passion for horses and dogs, +spent many an hour in the stables with the women who, for reasons of +their own, were pleased enough to take her there as an excuse for seeking +amusement for themselves. She played in the kennels and among +the horses’ heels, and learned to use oaths as roundly as any +Giles or Tom whose work was to wield the curry comb. It was indeed +a curious thing to hear her red baby mouth pour forth curses and unseemly +words as she would at any one who crossed her. Her temper and +hot-headedness carried all before them, and the grooms and stable-boys +found great sport in the language my young lady used in her innocent +furies. But balk her in a whim, and she would pour forth the eloquence +of a fish-wife or a lady of easy virtue in a pot-house quarrel. +There was no human creature near her who had mind or heart enough to +see the awfulness of her condition, or to strive to teach her to check +her passions; and in the midst of these perilous surroundings the little +virago grew handsomer and of finer carriage every hour, as if on the +rank diet that fed her she throve and flourished.</p> +<p>There came a day at last when she had reached six years old, when +by a trick of chance a turn was given to the wheel of her fate.</p> +<p>She had not reached three when a groom first set her on a horse’s +back and led her about the stable-yard, and she had so delighted in +her exalted position, and had so shouted for pleasure and clutched her +steed’s rein and clucked at him, that her audience had looked +on with roars of laughter. From that time she would be put up +every day, and as time went on showed such unchildish courage and spirit +that she furnished to her servant companions a new pastime. Soon +she would not be held on, but riding astride like a boy, would sit up +as straight as a man and swear at her horse, beating him with her heels +and little fists if his pace did not suit her. She knew no fear, +and would have used a whip so readily that the men did not dare to trust +her with one, and knew they must not mount her on a steed too mettlesome. +By the time she passed her sixth birthday she could ride as well as +a grown man, and was as familiar with her father’s horses as he +himself, though he knew nothing of the matter, it being always contrived +that she should be out of sight when he visited his hunters.</p> +<p>It so chanced that the horse he rode the oftenest was her favourite, +and many were the tempests of rage she fell into when she went to the +stable to play with the animal and did not find him in his stall, because +his master had ordered him out. At such times she would storm +at the men in the stable-yard and call them ill names for their impudence +in letting the beast go, which would cause them great merriment, as +she knew nothing of who the man was who had balked her, since she was, +in truth, not so much as conscious of her father’s existence, +never having seen or even heard more of him than his name, which she +in no manner connected with herself.</p> +<p>“Could Sir Jeoffry himself but once see and hear her when she +storms at us and him, because he dares to ride his own beast,” +one of the older men said once, in the midst of their laughter, “I +swear he would burst forth laughing and be taken with her impudent spirit, +her temper is so like his own. She is his own flesh and blood, +and as full of hell-fire as he.”</p> +<p>Upon this morning which proved eventful to her, she had gone to the +stables, as was her daily custom, and going into the stall where the +big black horse was wont to stand, she found it empty. Her spirit +rose hot within her in the moment. She clenched her fists, and +began to stamp and swear in such a manner as it would be scarce fitting +to record.</p> +<p>“Where is he now?” she cried. “He is my own +horse, and shall not be ridden. Who is the man who takes him? +Who? Who?”</p> +<p>“’Tis a fellow who hath no manners,” said the man +she stormed at, grinning and thrusting his tongue in his cheek. +“He says ’tis his beast, and not yours, and he will have +him when he chooses.”</p> +<p>“’Tis not his—’tis mine!” shrieked +Miss, her little face inflamed with passion. “I will kill +him! ’Tis my horse. He <i>shall</i> be mine!”</p> +<p>For a while the men tormented her, to hear her rave and see her passion, +for, in truth, the greater tempest she was in, the better she was worth +beholding, having a colour so rich, and eyes so great and black and +flaming. At such times there was naught of the feminine in her, +and indeed always she looked more like a handsome boy than a girl, her +growth being for her age extraordinary. At length a lad who was +a helper said to mock her—</p> +<p>“The man hath him at the door before the great steps now. +I saw him stand there waiting but a moment ago. The man hath gone +in the house.”</p> +<p>She turned and ran to find him. The front part of the house +she barely knew the outside of, as she was kept safely in the west wing +and below stairs, and when taken out for the air was always led privately +by a side way—never passing through the great hall, where her +father might chance to encounter her.</p> +<p>She knew best this side-entrance, and made her way to it, meaning +to search until she found the front. She got into the house, and +her spirit being roused, marched boldly through corridors and into rooms +she had never seen before, and being so mere a child, notwithstanding +her strange wilfulness and daring, the novelty of the things she saw +so far distracted her mind from the cause of her anger that she stopped +more than once to stare up at a portrait on a wall, or to take in her +hand something she was curious concerning.</p> +<p>When she at last reached the entrance-hall, coming into it through +a door she pushed open, using all her childish strength, she stood in +the midst of it and gazed about her with a new curiosity and pleasure. +It was a fine place, with antlers, and arms, and foxes’ brushes +hung upon the walls, and with carved panels of black oak, and oaken +floor and furnishings. All in it was disorderly and showed rough +usage; but once it had been a notable feature of the house, and well +worth better care than had been bestowed upon it. She discovered +on the walls many trophies that attracted her, but these she could not +reach, and could only gaze and wonder at; but on an old oaken settle +she found some things she could lay hands on, and forthwith seized and +sat down upon the floor to play with them. One of them was a hunting-crop, +which she brandished grandly, until she was more taken with a powder-flask +which it so happened her father, Sir Jeoffry, had lain down but a few +minutes before, in passing through. He was going forth coursing, +and had stepped into the dining-hall to toss off a bumper of brandy.</p> +<p>When he had helped himself from the buffet, and came back in haste, +the first thing he clapped eyes on was his offspring pouring forth the +powder from his flask upon the oaken floor. He had never seen +her since that first occasion after the unfortunate incident of her +birth, and beholding a child wasting his good powder at the moment he +most wanted it and had no time to spare, and also not having had it +recalled to his mind for years that he was a parent, except when he +found himself forced reluctantly to pay for some small need, he beheld +in the young offender only some impudent servant’s brat, who had +strayed into his domain and applied itself at once to mischief.</p> +<p>He sprang upon her, and seizing her by the arm, whirled her to her +feet with no little violence, snatching the powder-flask from her, and +dealing her a sound box on the ear.</p> +<p>“Blood and damnation on thee, thou impudent little baggage!” +he shouted. “I’ll break thy neck for thee, little +scurvy beast;” and pulled the bell as he were like to break the +wire.</p> +<p>But he had reckoned falsely on what he dealt with. Miss uttered +a shriek of rage which rang through the roof like a clarion. She +snatched the crop from the floor, rushed at him, and fell upon him like +a thousand little devils, beating his big legs with all the strength +of her passion, and pouring forth oaths such as would have done credit +to Doll Lightfoot herself.</p> +<p>“Damn <i>thee</i>!—damn <i>thee</i>!”—she +roared and screamed, flogging him. “I’ll tear thy +eyes out! I’ll cut thy liver from thee! Damn thy soul +to hell!”</p> +<p>And this choice volley was with such spirit and fury poured forth, +that Sir Jeoffry let his hand drop from the bell, fell into a great +burst of laughter, and stood thus roaring while she beat him and shrieked +and stormed.</p> +<p>The servants, hearing the jangled bell, attracted by the tumult, +and of a sudden missing Mistress Clorinda, ran in consternation to the +hall, and there beheld this truly pretty sight—Miss beating her +father’s legs, and tearing at him tooth and nail, while he stood +shouting with laughter as if he would split his sides.</p> +<p>“Who is the little cockatrice?” he cried, the tears streaming +down his florid cheeks. “Who is the young she-devil? +Ods bodikins, who is she?”</p> +<p>For a second or so the servants stared at each other aghast, not +knowing what to say, or venturing to utter a word; and then the nurse, +who had come up panting, dared to gasp forth the truth.</p> +<p>“’Tis Mistress Clorinda, Sir Jeoffry,” she stammered—“my +lady’s last infant—the one of whom she died in childbed.”</p> +<p>His big laugh broke in two, as one might say. He looked down +at the young fury and stared. She was out of breath with beating +him, and had ceased and fallen back apace, and was staring up at him +also, breathing defiance and hatred. Her big black eyes were flames, +her head was thrown up and back, her cheeks were blood scarlet, and +her great crop of crow-black hair stood out about her beauteous, wicked +little virago face, as if it might change into Medusa’s snakes.</p> +<p>“Damn thee!” she shrieked at him again. “I’ll +kill thee, devil!”</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry broke into his big laugh afresh.</p> +<p>“Clorinda do they call thee, wench?” he said. “Jeoffry +thou shouldst have been but for thy mother’s folly. A fiercer +little devil for thy size I never saw—nor a handsomer one.”</p> +<p>And he seized her from where she stood, and held her at his big arms’ +length, gazing at her uncanny beauty with looks that took her in from +head to foot.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III—Wherein Sir Jeoffry’s boon companions drink +a toast</h2> +<p>Her beauty of face, her fine body, her strength of limb, and great +growth for her age, would have pleased him if she had possessed no other +attraction, but the daring of her fury and her stable-boy breeding so +amused him and suited his roystering tastes that he took to her as the +finest plaything in the world.</p> +<p>He set her on the floor, forgetting his coursing, and would have +made friends with her, but at first she would have none of him, and +scowled at him in spite of all he did. The brandy by this time +had mounted to his head and put him in the mood for frolic, liquor oftenest +making him gamesome. He felt as if he were playing with a young +dog or marking the spirit of a little fighting cock. He ordered +the servants back to their kitchen, who stole away, the women amazed, +and the men concealing grins which burst forth into guffaws of laughter +when they came into their hall below.</p> +<p>“’Tis as we said,” they chuckled. “He +had but to see her beauty and find her a bigger devil than he, and ’twas +done. The mettle of her—damning and flogging him! +Never was there a finer sight! She feared him no more than if +he had been a spaniel—and he roaring and laughing till he was +like to burst.”</p> +<p>“Dost know who I am?” Sir Jeoffry was asking the child, +grinning himself as he stood before her where she sat on the oaken settle +on which he had lifted her.</p> +<p>“No,” quoth little Mistress, her black brows drawn down, +her handsome owl’s eyes verily seeming to look him through and +through in search of somewhat; for, in sooth, her rage abating before +his jovial humour, the big burly laugher attracted her attention, though +she was not disposed to show him that she leaned towards any favour +or yielding.</p> +<p>“I am thy Dad,” he said. “’Twas thy +Dad thou gavest such a trouncing. And thou hast an arm, too. +Let’s cast an eye on it.”</p> +<p>He took her wrist and pushed up her sleeve, but she dragged back.</p> +<p>“Will not be mauled,” she cried. “Get away +from me!”</p> +<p>He shouted with laughter again. He had seen that the little +arm was as white and hard as marble, and had such muscles as a great +boy might have been a braggart about.</p> +<p>“By Gad!” he said, elated. “What a wench +of six years old. Wilt have my crop and trounce thy Dad again!”</p> +<p>He picked up the crop from the place where she had thrown it, and +forthwith gave it in her hand. She took it, but was no more in +the humour to beat him, and as she looked still frowning from him to +the whip, the latter brought back to her mind the horse she had set +out in search of.</p> +<p>“Where is my horse?” she said, and ’twas in the +tone of an imperial demand. “Where is he?”</p> +<p>“Thy horse!” he echoed. “Which is thy horse +then?”</p> +<p>“Rake is my horse,” she answered—“the big +black one. The man took him again;” and she ripped out a +few more oaths and unchaste expressions, threatening what she would +do for the man in question; the which delighted him more than ever. +“Rake is my horse,” she ended. “None else shall +ride him.”</p> +<p>“None else?” cried he. “Thou canst not ride +him, baggage!”</p> +<p>She looked at him with scornful majesty.</p> +<p>“Where is he?” she demanded. And the next instant +hearing the beast’s restless feet grinding into the gravel outside +as he fretted at having been kept waiting so long, she remembered what +the stable-boy had said of having seen her favourite standing before +the door, and struggling and dropping from the settle, she ran to look +out; whereupon having done so, she shouted in triumph.</p> +<p>“He is here!” she said. “I see him;” +and went pell-mell down the stone steps to his side.</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry followed her in haste. ’Twould not have been +to his humour now to have her brains kicked out.</p> +<p>“Hey!” he called, as he hurried. “Keep away +from his heels, thou little devil.”</p> +<p>But she had run to the big beast’s head with another shout, +and caught him round his foreleg, laughing, and Rake bent his head down +and nosed her in a fumbling caress, on which, the bridle coming within +her reach, she seized it and held his head that she might pat him, to +which familiarity the beast was plainly well accustomed.</p> +<p>“He is my horse,” quoth she grandly when her father reached +her. “He will not let Giles play so.”</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry gazed and swelled with pleasure in her.</p> +<p>“Would have said ’twas a lie if I had not seen it,” +he said to himself. “’Tis no girl this, I swear. +I thought ’twas my horse,” he said to her, “but ’tis +plain enough he is thine.”</p> +<p>“Put me up!” said his new-found offspring.</p> +<p>“Hast rid him before?” Sir Jeoffry asked, with some lingering +misgiving. “Tell thy Dad if thou hast rid him.”</p> +<p>She gave him a look askance under her long fringed lids—a surly +yet half-slyly relenting look, because she wanted to get her way of +him, and had the cunning wit and shrewdness of a child witch.</p> +<p>“Ay!” quoth she. “Put me up—Dad!”</p> +<p>He was not a man of quick mind, his brain having been too many years +bemuddled with drink, but he had a rough instinct which showed him all +the wondrous shrewdness of her casting that last word at him to wheedle +him, even though she looked sullen in the saying it. It made him +roar again for very exultation.</p> +<p>“Put me up, Dad!” he cried. “That will I—and +see what thou wilt do.”</p> +<p>He lifted her, she springing as he set his hands beneath her arms, +and flinging her legs over astride across the saddle when she reached +it. She was all fire and excitement, and caught the reins like +an old huntsman, and with such a grasp as was amazing. She sat +up with a straight, strong back, her whole face glowing and sparkling +with exultant joy. Rake seemed to answer to her excited little +laugh almost as much as to her hand. It seemed to wake his spirit +and put him in good-humour. He started off with her down the avenue +at a light, spirited trot, while she, clinging with her little legs +and sitting firm and fearless, made him change into canter and gallop, +having actually learned all his paces like a lesson, and knowing his +mouth as did his groom, who was her familiar and slave. Had she +been of the build ordinary with children of her age, she could not have +stayed upon his back; but she sat him like a child jockey, and Sir Jeoffry, +watching and following her, clapped his hands boisterously and hallooed +for joy.</p> +<p>“Lord, Lord!” he said. “There’s not +a man in the shire has such another little devil—and Rake, ‘her +horse,’” grinning—“and she to ride him so. +I love thee, wench—hang me if I do not!”</p> +<p>She made him play with her and with Rake for a good hour, and then +took him back to the stables, and there ordered him about finely among +the dogs and horses, perceiving that somehow this great man she had +got hold of was a creature who was in power and could be made use of.</p> +<p>When they returned to the house, he had her to eat her mid-day meal +with him, when she called for ale, and drank it, and did good trencher +duty, making him the while roar with laughter at her impudent child-talk.</p> +<p>“Never have I so split my sides since I was twenty,” +he said. “It makes me young again to roar so. She +shall not leave my sight, since by chance I have found her. ’Tis +too good a joke to lose, when times are dull, as they get to be as a +man’s years go on.”</p> +<p>He sent for her woman and laid strange new commands on her.</p> +<p>“Where hath she hitherto been kept?” he asked.</p> +<p>“In the west wing, where are the nurseries, and where Mistress +Wimpole abides with Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne,” the woman +answered, with a frightened curtsey.</p> +<p>“Henceforth she shall live in this part of the house where +I do,” he said. “Make ready the chambers that were +my lady’s, and prepare to stay there with her.”</p> +<p>From that hour the child’s fate was sealed. He made himself +her playfellow, and romped with and indulged her until she became fonder +of him than of any groom or stable-boy she had been companions with +before. But, indeed, she had never been given to bestowing much +affection on those around her, seeming to feel herself too high a personage +to show softness. The ones she showed most favour to were those +who served her best; and even to them it was always <i>favour</i> she +showed, not tenderness. Certain dogs and horses she was fond of, +Rake coming nearest to her heart, and the place her father won in her +affections was somewhat like to Rake’s. She made him her +servant and tyrannised over him, but at the same time followed and imitated +him as if she had been a young spaniel he was training. The life +the child led, it would have broken a motherly woman’s heart to +hear about; but there was no good woman near her, her mother’s +relatives, and even Sir Jeoffry’s own, having cut themselves off +early from them—Wildairs Hall and its master being no great credit +to those having the misfortune to be connected with them. The +neighbouring gentry had gradually ceased to visit the family some time +before her ladyship’s death, and since then the only guests who +frequented the place were a circle of hunting, drinking, and guzzling +boon companions of Sir Jeoffry’s own, who joined him in all his +carousals and debaucheries.</p> +<p>To these he announced his discovery of his daughter with tumultuous +delight. He told them, amid storms of laughter, of his first encounter +with her; of her flogging him with his own crop, and cursing him like +a trooper; of her claiming Rake as her own horse, and swearing at the +man who had dared to take him from the stable to ride; and of her sitting +him like an infant jockey, and seeming, by some strange power, to have +mastered him as no other had been able heretofore to do. Then +he had her brought into the dining-room, where they sat over their bottles +drinking deep, and setting her on the table, he exhibited her to them, +boasting of her beauty, showing them her splendid arm and leg and thigh, +measuring her height, and exciting her to test the strength of the grip +of her hand and the power of her little fist.</p> +<p>“Saw you ever a wench like her?” he cried, as they all +shouted with laughter and made jokes not too polite, but such as were +of the sole kind they were given to. “Has any man among +you begot a boy as big and handsome? Hang me! if she would not +knock down any lad of ten if she were in a fury.”</p> +<p>“We wild dogs are out of favour with the women,” cried +one of the best pleased among them, a certain Lord Eldershawe, whose +seat was a few miles from Wildairs Hall—“women like nincompoops +and chaplains. Let us take this one for our toast, and bring her +up as girls should be brought up to be companions for men. I give +you, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs—Mistress Clorinda, the enslaver +of six years old—bumpers, lads!—bumpers!”</p> +<p>And they set her in the very midst of the big table and drank her +health, standing, bursting into a jovial, ribald song; and the child, +excited by the noise and laughter, actually broke forth and joined them +in a high, strong treble, the song being one she was quite familiar +with, having heard it often enough in the stable to have learned the +words pat.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Two weeks after his meeting with her, Sir Jeoffry was seized with +the whim to go up to London and set her forth with finery. ’Twas +but rarely he went up to town, having neither money to waste, nor finding +great attraction in the more civilised quarters of the world. +He brought her back such clothes as for richness and odd, unsuitable +fashion child never wore before. There were brocades that stood +alone with splendour of fabric, there was rich lace, fine linen, ribbands, +farthingales, swansdown tippets, and little slippers with high red heels. +He had a wardrobe made for her such as the finest lady of fashion could +scarcely boast, and the tiny creature was decked out in it, and on great +occasions even strung with her dead mother’s jewels.</p> +<p>Among these strange things, he had the fantastical notion to have +made for her several suits of boy’s clothes: pink and blue satin +coats, little white, or amber, or blue satin breeches, ruffles of lace, +and waistcoats embroidered with colours and silver or gold. There +was also a small scarlet-coated hunting costume and all the paraphernalia +of the chase. It was Sir Jeoffry’s finest joke to bid her +woman dress her as a boy, and then he would have her brought to the +table where he and his fellows were dining together, and she would toss +off her little bumper with the best of them, and rip out childish oaths, +and sing them, to their delight, songs she had learned from the stable-boys. +She cared more for dogs and horses than for finery, and when she was +not in the humour to be made a puppet of, neither tirewoman nor devil +could put her into her brocades; but she liked the excitement of the +dining-room, and, as time went on, would be dressed in her flowered +petticoats in a passion of eagerness to go and show herself, and coquet +in her lace and gewgaws with men old enough to be her father, and loose +enough to find her premature airs and graces a fine joke indeed. +She ruled them all with her temper and her shrewish will. She +would have her way in all things, or there should be no sport with her, +and she would sing no songs for them, but would flout them bitterly, +and sit in a great chair with her black brows drawn down, and her whole +small person breathing rancour and disdain.</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry, who had bullied his wife, had now the pleasurable experience +of being henpecked by his daughter; for so, indeed, he was. Miss +ruled him with a rod of iron, and wielded her weapon with such skill +that before a year had elapsed he obeyed her as the servants below stairs +had done in her infancy. She had no fear of his great oaths, for +she possessed a strangely varied stock of her own upon which she could +always draw, and her voice being more shrill than his, if not of such +bigness, her ear-piercing shrieks and indomitable perseverance always +proved too much for him in the end. It must be admitted likewise +that her violence of temper and power of will were somewhat beyond his +own, notwithstanding her tender years and his reputation. In fact, +he found himself obliged to observe this, and finally made something +of a merit and joke of it.</p> +<p>“There is no managing of the little shrew,” he would +say. “Neither man nor devil can bend or break her. +If I smashed every bone in her carcass, she would die shrieking hell +at me and defiance.”</p> +<p>If one admits the truth, it must be owned that if she had not had +bestowed upon her by nature gifts of beauty and vivacity so extraordinary, +and had been cursed with a thousandth part of the vixenishness she displayed +every day of her life, he would have broken every bone in her carcass +without a scruple or a qualm. But her beauty seemed but to grow +with every hour that passed, and it was by exceeding good fortune exactly +the fashion of beauty which he admired the most. When she attained +her tenth year she was as tall as a fine boy of twelve, and of such +a shape and carriage as young Diana herself might have envied. +Her limbs were long, and most divinely moulded, and of a strength that +caused admiration and amazement in all beholders. Her father taught +her to follow him in the hunting-field, and when she appeared upon her +horse, clad in her little breeches and top-boots and scarlet coat, child +though she was, she set the field on fire. She learned full early +how to coquet and roll her fine eyes; but it is also true that she was +not much of a languisher, as all her ogling was of a destructive or +proudly-attacking kind. It was her habit to leave others to languish, +and herself to lead them with disdainful vivacity to doing so. +She was the talk, and, it must be admitted, the scandal, of the county +by the day she was fifteen. The part wherein she lived was a boisterous +hunting shire where there were wide ditches and high hedges to leap, +and rough hills and moors to gallop over, and within the region neither +polite life nor polite education were much thought of; but even in the +worst portions of it there were occasional virtuous matrons who shook +their heads with much gravity and wonder over the beautiful Mistress +Clorinda.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV—Lord Twemlow’s chaplain visits his patron’s +kinsman, and Mistress Clorinda shines on her birthday night</h2> +<p>Uncivilised and almost savage as her girlish life was, and unregulated +by any outward training as was her mind, there were none who came in +contact with her who could be blind to a certain strong, clear wit, +and unconquerableness of purpose, for which she was remarkable. +She ever knew full well what she desired to gain or to avoid, and once +having fixed her mind upon any object, she showed an adroitness and +brilliancy of resource, a control of herself and others, the which there +was no circumventing. She never made a blunder because she could +not control the expression of her emotions; and when she gave way to +a passion, ’twas because she chose to do so, having naught to +lose, and in the midst of all their riotous jesting with her the boon +companions of Sir Jeoffry knew this.</p> +<p>“Had she a secret to keep, child though she is,” said +Eldershawe, “there is none—man or woman—who could +scare or surprise it from her; and ’tis a strange quality to note +so early in a female creature.”</p> +<p>She spent her days with her father and his dissolute friends, treated +half like a boy, half a fantastical queen, until she was fourteen. +She hunted and coursed, shot birds, leaped hedges and ditches, reigned +at the riotous feastings, and coquetted with these mature, and in some +cases elderly, men, as if she looked forward to doing naught else all +her life.</p> +<p>But one day, after she had gone out hunting with her father, riding +Rake, who had been given to her, and wearing her scarlet coat, breeches, +and top-boots, one of the few remaining members of her mother’s +family sent his chaplain to remonstrate and advise her father to command +her to forbear from appearing in such impudent attire.</p> +<p>There was, indeed, a stirring scene when this message was delivered +by its bearer. The chaplain was an awkward, timid creature, who +had heard stories enough of Wildairs Hall and its master to undertake +his mission with a quaking soul. To have refused to obey any behest +of his patron would have cost him his living, and knowing this beyond +a doubt, he was forced to gird up his loins and gather together all +the little courage he could muster to beard the lion in his den.</p> +<p>The first thing he beheld on entering the big hall was a beautiful +tall youth wearing his own rich black hair, and dressed in scarlet coat +for hunting. He was playing with a dog, making it leap over his +crop, and both laughing and swearing at its clumsiness. He glanced +at the chaplain with a laughing, brilliant eye, returning the poor man’s +humble bow with a slight nod as he plainly hearkened to what he said +as he explained his errand.</p> +<p>“I come from my Lord Twemlow, who is your master’s kinsman,” +the chaplain faltered; “I am bidden to see and speak to him if +it be possible, and his lordship much desires that Sir Jeoffry will +allow it to be so. My Lord Twemlow—”</p> +<p>The beautiful youth left his playing with the dog and came forward +with all the air of the young master of the house.</p> +<p>“My Lord Twemlow sends you?” he said. “’Tis +long since his lordship favoured us with messages. Where is Sir +Jeoffry, Lovatt?”</p> +<p>“In the dining-hall,” answered the servant. “He +went there but a moment past, Mistress.”</p> +<p>The chaplain gave such a start as made him drop his shovel hat. +“Mistress!” And this was she—this fine young +creature who was tall and grandly enough built and knit to seem a radiant +being even when clad in masculine attire. He picked up his hat +and bowed so low that it almost swept the floor in his obeisance. +He was not used to female beauty which deigned to cast great smiling +eyes upon him, for at my Lord Twemlow’s table he sat so far below +the salt that women looked not his way.</p> +<p>This beauty looked at him as if she was amused at the thought of +something in her own mind. He wondered tremblingly if she guessed +what he came for and knew how her father would receive it.</p> +<p>“Come with me,” she said; “I will take you to him. +He would not see you if I did not. He does not love his lordship +tenderly enough.”</p> +<p>She led the way, holding her head jauntily and high, while he cast +down his eyes lest his gaze should be led to wander in a way unseemly +in one of his cloth. Such a foot and such—! He felt +it more becoming and safer to lift his eyes to the ceiling and keep +them there, which gave him somewhat the aspect of one praying.</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry stood at the buffet with a flagon of ale in his hand, +taking his stirrup cup. At the sight of a stranger and one attired +in the garb of a chaplain, he scowled surprisedly.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” quoth he. “What dost +want, Clo? I have no leisure for a sermon.”</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda went to the buffet and filled a tankard for herself +and carried it back to the table, on the edge of which she half sat, +with one leg bent, one foot resting on the floor.</p> +<p>“Time thou wilt have to take, Dad,” she said, with an +arch grin, showing two rows of gleaming pearls. “This gentleman +is my Lord Twemlow’s chaplain, whom he sends to exhort you, requesting +you to have the civility to hear him.”</p> +<p>“Exhort be damned, and Twemlow be damned too!” cried +Sir Jeoffry, who had a great quarrel with his lordship and hated him +bitterly. “What does the canting fool mean?”</p> +<p>“Sir,” faltered the poor message-bearer, “his lordship +hath—hath been concerned—having heard—”</p> +<p>The handsome creature balanced against the table took the tankard +from her lips and laughed.</p> +<p>“Having heard thy daughter rides to field in breeches, and +is an unseemly-behaving wench,” she cried, “his lordship +sends his chaplain to deliver a discourse thereon—not choosing +to come himself. Is not that thy errand, reverend sir?”</p> +<p>The chaplain, poor man, turned pale, having caught, as she spoke, +a glimpse of Sir Jeoffry’s reddening visage.</p> +<p>“Madam,” he faltered, bowing—“Madam, I ask +pardon of you most humbly! If it were your pleasure to deign to—to—allow +me—”</p> +<p>She set the tankard on the table with a rollicking smack, and thrust +her hands in her breeches-pockets, swaying with laughter; and, indeed, +’twas ringing music, her rich great laugh, which, when she grew +of riper years, was much lauded and written verses on by her numerous +swains.</p> +<p>“If ’twere my pleasure to go away and allow you to speak, +free from the awkwardness of a young lady’s presence,” she +said. “But ’tis not, as it happens, and if I stay +here, I shall be a protection.”</p> +<p>In truth, he required one. Sir Jeoffry broke into a torrent +of blasphemy. He damned both kinsman and chaplain, and raged at +the impudence of both in daring to approach him, swearing to horsewhip +my lord if they ever met, and to have the chaplain kicked out of the +house, and beyond the park gates themselves. But Mistress Clorinda +chose to make it her whim to take it in better humour, and as a joke +with a fine point to it. She laughed at her father’s storming, +and while the chaplain quailed before it with pallid countenance and +fairly hang-dog look, she seemed to find it but a cause for outbursts +of merriment.</p> +<p>“Hold thy tongue a bit, Dad,” she cried, when he had +reached his loudest, “and let his reverence tell us what his message +is. We have not even heard it.”</p> +<p>“Want not to hear it!” shouted Sir Jeoffry. “Dost +think I’ll stand his impudence? Not I!”</p> +<p>“What was your message?” demanded the young lady of the +chaplain. “You cannot return without delivering it. +Tell it to me. <i>I</i> choose it shall be told.”</p> +<p>The chaplain clutched and fumbled with his hat, pale, and dropping +his eyes upon the floor, for very fear.</p> +<p>“Pluck up thy courage, man,” said Clorinda. “I +will uphold thee. The message?”</p> +<p>“Your pardon, Madam—’twas this,” the chaplain +faltered. “My lord commanded me to warn your honoured father—that +if he did not beg you to leave off wearing—wearing—”</p> +<p>“Breeches,” said Mistress Clorinda, slapping her knee.</p> +<p>The chaplain blushed with modesty, though he was a man of sallow +countenance.</p> +<p>“No gentleman,” he went on, going more lamely at each +word—“notwithstanding your great beauty—no gentleman—”</p> +<p>“Would marry me?” the young lady ended for him, with +merciful good-humour.</p> +<p>“For if you—if a young lady be permitted to bear herself +in such a manner as will cause her to be held lightly, she can make +no match that will not be a dishonour to her family—and—and—”</p> +<p>“And may do worse!” quoth Mistress Clo, and laughed until +the room rang.</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry’s rage was such as made him like to burst; but +she restrained him when he would have flung his tankard at the chaplain’s +head, and amid his storm of curses bundled the poor man out of the room, +picking up his hat which in his hurry and fright he let fall, and thrusting +it into his hand.</p> +<p>“Tell his lordship,” she said, laughing still as she +spoke the final words, “that I say he is right—and I will +see to it that no disgrace befalls him.”</p> +<p>“Forsooth, Dad,” she said, returning, “perhaps +the old son of a—”—something unmannerly—“is +not so great a fool. As for me, I mean to make a fine marriage +and be a great lady, and I know of none hereabouts to suit me but the +old Earl of Dunstanwolde, and ’tis said he rates at all but modest +women, and, in faith, he might not find breeches mannerly. I will +not hunt in them again.”</p> +<p>She did not, though once or twice when she was in a wild mood, and +her father entertained at dinner those of his companions whom she was +the most inclined to, she swaggered in among them in her daintiest suits +of male attire, and caused their wine-shot eyes to gloat over her boyish-maiden +charms and jaunty airs and graces.</p> +<p>On the night of her fifteenth birthday Sir Jeoffry gave a great dinner +to his boon companions and hers. She had herself commanded that +there should be no ladies at the feast; for she chose to announce that +she should appear at no more such, having the wit to see that she was +too tall a young lady for childish follies, and that she had now arrived +at an age when her market must be made.</p> +<p>“I shall have women enough henceforth to be dull with,” +she said. “Thou art but a poor match-maker, Dad, or wouldst +have thought of it for me. But not once has it come into thy pate +that I have no mother to angle in my cause and teach me how to cast +sheep’s eyes at bachelors. Long-tailed petticoats from this +time for me, and hoops and patches, and ogling over fans—until +at last, if I play my cards well, some great lord will look my way and +be taken by my shape and my manners.”</p> +<p>“With thy shape, Clo, God knows every man will,” laughed +Sir Jeoffry, “but I fear me not with thy manners. Thou hast +the manners of a baggage, and they are second nature to thee.”</p> +<p>“They are what I was born with,” answered Mistress Clorinda. +“They came from him that begot me, and he has not since improved +them. But now”—making a great sweeping curtsey, her +impudent bright beauty almost dazzling his eyes—“now, after +my birth-night, they will be bettered; but this one night I will have +my last fling.”</p> +<p>When the men trooped into the black oak wainscotted dining-hall on +the eventful night, they found their audacious young hostess awaiting +them in greater and more daring beauty than they had ever before beheld. +She wore knee-breeches of white satin, a pink satin coat embroidered +with silver roses, white silk stockings, and shoes with great buckles +of brilliants, revealing a leg so round and strong and delicately moulded, +and a foot so arched and slender, as surely never before, they swore +one and all, woman had had to display. She met them standing jauntily +astride upon the hearth, her back to the fire, and she greeted each +one as he came with some pretty impudence. Her hair was tied back +and powdered, her black eyes were like lodestars, drawing all men, and +her colour was that of a ripe pomegranate. She had a fine, haughty +little Roman nose, a mouth like a scarlet bow, a wonderful long throat, +and round cleft chin. A dazzling mien indeed she possessed, and +ready enough she was to shine before them. Sir Jeoffry was now +elderly, having been a man of forty when united to his conjugal companion. +Most of his friends were of his own age, so that it had not been with +unripe youth Mistress Clorinda had been in the habit of consorting. +But upon this night a newcomer was among the guests. He was a +young relation of one of the older men, and having come to his kinsman’s +house upon a visit, and having proved himself, in spite of his youth, +to be a young fellow of humour, high courage in the hunting-field, and +by no means averse either to entering upon or discussing intrigue and +gallant adventure, had made himself something of a favourite. +His youthful beauty for a man almost equalled that of Mistress Clorinda +herself. He had an elegant, fine shape, of great strength and +vigour, his countenance was delicately ruddy and handsomely featured, +his curling fair hair flowed loose upon his shoulders, and, though masculine +in mould, his ankle was as slender and his buckled shoe as arched as +her own.</p> +<p>He was, it is true, twenty-four years of age and a man, while she +was but fifteen and a woman, but being so tall and built with such unusual +vigour of symmetry, she was a beauteous match for him, and both being +attired in fashionable masculine habit, these two pretty young fellows +standing smiling saucily at each other were a charming, though singular, +spectacle.</p> +<p>This young man was already well known in the modish world of town +for his beauty and adventurous spirit. He was indeed already a +beau and conqueror of female hearts. It was suspected that he +cherished a private ambition to set the modes in beauties and embroidered +waistcoats himself in time, and be as renowned abroad and as much the +town talk as certain other celebrated beaux had been before him. +The art of ogling tenderly and of uttering soft nothings he had learned +during his first season in town, and as he had a great melting blue +eye, the figure of an Adonis, and a white and shapely hand for a ring, +he was well equipped for conquest. He had darted many an inflaming +glance at Mistress Clorinda before the first meats were removed. +Even in London he had heard a vague rumour of this handsome young woman, +bred among her father’s dogs, horses, and boon companions, and +ripening into a beauty likely to make town faces pale. He had +almost fallen into the spleen on hearing that she had left her boy’s +clothes and vowed she would wear them no more, as above all things he +had desired to see how she carried them and what charms they revealed. +On hearing from his host and kinsman that she had said that on her birth-night +she would bid them farewell for ever by donning them for the last time, +he was consumed with eagerness to obtain an invitation. This his +kinsman besought for him, and, behold! the first glance the beauty shot +at him pierced his inflammable bosom like a dart. Never before +had it been his fortune to behold female charms so dazzling and eyes +of such lustre and young majesty. The lovely baggage had a saucy +way of standing with her white jewelled hands in her pockets like a +pretty fop, and throwing up her little head like a modish beauty who +was of royal blood; and these two tricks alone, he felt, might have +set on fire the heart of a man years older and colder than himself.</p> +<p>If she had been of the order of soft-natured charmers, they would +have fallen into each other’s eyes before the wine was changed; +but this Mistress Clorinda was not. She did not fear to meet the +full battery of his enamoured glances, but she did not choose to return +them. She played her part of the pretty young fellow who was a +high-spirited beauty, with more of wit and fire than she had ever played +it before. The rollicking hunting-squires, who had been her play-fellows +so long, devoured her with their delighted glances and roared with laughter +at her sallies. Their jokes and flatteries were not of the most +seemly, but she had not been bred to seemliness and modesty, and was +no more ignorant than if she had been, in sooth, some gay young springald +of a lad. To her it was part of the entertainment that upon this +last night they conducted themselves as beseemed her boyish masquerading. +Though country-bred, she had lived among companions who were men of +the world and lived without restraints, and she had so far learned from +them that at fifteen years old she was as worldly and as familiar with +the devices of intrigue as she would be at forty. So far she had +not been pushed to practising them, her singular life having thrown +her among few of her own age, and those had chanced to be of a sort +she disdainfully counted as country bumpkins.</p> +<p>But the young gallant introduced to-night into the world she lived +in was no bumpkin, and was a dandy of the town. His name was Sir +John Oxon, and he had just come into his title and a pretty property. +His hands were as white and bejewelled as her own, his habit was of +the latest fashionable cut, and his fair flowing locks scattered a delicate +French perfume she did not even know the name of.</p> +<p>But though she observed all these attractions and found them powerful, +young Sir John remarked, with a slight sinking qualm, that her great +eye did not fall before his amorous glances, but met them with high +smiling readiness, and her colour never blanched or heightened a whit +for all their masterly skilfulness. But he had sworn to himself +that he would approach close enough to her to fire off some fine speech +before the night was ended, and he endeavoured to bear himself with +at least an outward air of patience until he beheld his opportunity.</p> +<p>When the last dish was removed and bottles and bumpers stood upon +the board, she sprang up on her chair and stood before them all, smiling +down the long table with eyes like flashing jewels. Her hands +were thrust in her pockets—with her pretty young fop’s air, +and she drew herself to her full comely height, her beauteous lithe +limbs and slender feet set smartly together. Twenty pairs of masculine +eyes were turned upon her beauty, but none so ardently as the young +one’s across the table.</p> +<p>“Look your last on my fine shape,” she proclaimed in +her high, rich voice. “You will see but little of the lower +part of it when it is hid in farthingales and petticoats. Look +your last before I go to don my fine lady’s furbelows.”</p> +<p>And when they filled their glasses and lifted them and shouted admiring +jests to her, she broke into one of her stable-boy songs, and sang it +in the voice of a skylark.</p> +<p>No man among them was used to showing her the courtesies of polite +breeding. She had been too long a boy to them for that to have +entered any mind, and when she finished her song, sprang down, and made +for the door, Sir John beheld his long-looked-for chance, and was there +before her to open it with a great bow, made with his hand upon his +heart and his fair locks falling.</p> +<p>“You rob us of the rapture of beholding great beauties, Madam,” +he said in a low, impassioned voice. “But there should be +indeed but <i>one</i> happy man whose bliss it is to gaze upon such +perfections.”</p> +<p>“I am fifteen years old to-night,” she answered; “and +as yet I have not set eyes upon him.”</p> +<p>“How do you know that, madam?” he said, bowing lower +still.</p> +<p>She laughed her great rich laugh.</p> +<p>“Forsooth, I do not know,” she retorted. “He +may be here this very night among this company; and as it might be so, +I go to don my modesty.”</p> +<p>And she bestowed on him a parting shot in the shape of one of her +prettiest young fop waves of the hand, and was gone from him.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>When the door closed behind her and Sir John Oxon returned to the +table, for a while a sort of dulness fell upon the party. Not +being of quick minds or sentiments, these country roisterers failed +to understand the heavy cloud of spleen and lack of spirit they experienced, +and as they filled their glasses and tossed off one bumper after another +to cure it, they soon began again to laugh and fell into boisterous +joking.</p> +<p>They talked mostly, indeed, of their young playfellow, of whom they +felt, in some indistinct manner, they were to be bereft; they rallied +Sir Jeoffry, told stories of her childhood and made pictures of her +budding beauties, comparing them with those of young ladies who were +celebrated toasts.</p> +<p>“She will sail among them like a royal frigate,” said +one; “and they will pale before her lustre as a tallow dip does +before an illumination.”</p> +<p>The clock struck twelve before she returned to them. Just as +the last stroke sounded the door was thrown open, and there she stood, +a woman on each side of her, holding a large silver candelabra bright +with wax tapers high above her, so that she was in a flood of light.</p> +<p>She was attired in rich brocade of crimson and silver, and wore a +great hooped petticoat, which showed off her grandeur, her waist of +no more bigness than a man’s hands could clasp, set in its midst +like the stem of a flower; her black hair was rolled high and circled +with jewels, her fair long throat blazed with a collar of diamonds, +and the majesty of her eye and lip and brow made up a mien so dazzling +that every man sprang to his feet beholding her.</p> +<p>She made a sweeping obeisance and then stood up before them, her +head thrown back and her lips curving in the triumphant mocking smile +of a great beauty looking upon them all as vassals.</p> +<p>“Down upon your knees,” she cried, “and drink to +me kneeling. From this night all men must bend so—all men +on whom I deign to cast my eyes.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER V—“Not I,” said she. “There +thou mayst trust me. I would not be found out.”</h2> +<p>She went no more a-hunting in boy’s clothes, but from this +time forward wore brocades and paduasoys, fine lawn and lace. +Her tirewoman was kept so busily engaged upon making rich habits, fragrant +waters and essences, and so running at her bidding to change her gown +or dress her head in some new fashion, that her life was made to her +a weighty burden to bear, and also a painful one. Her place had +before been an easy one but for her mistress’s choleric temper, +but it was so no more. Never had young lady been so exacting and +so tempestuous when not pleased with the adorning of her face and shape. +In the presence of polite strangers, whether ladies or gentlemen, Mistress +Clorinda in these days chose to chasten her language and give less rein +to her fantastical passions, but alone in her closet with her woman, +if a riband did but not suit her fancy, or a hoop not please, she did +not fear to be as scurrilous as she chose. In this discreet retirement +she rapped out oaths and boxed her woman’s ears with a vigorous +hand, tore off her gowns and stamped them beneath her feet, or flung +pots of pomade at the poor woman’s head. She took these +freedoms with such a readiness and spirit that she was served with a +despatch and humbleness scarcely to be equalled, and, it is certain, +never excelled.</p> +<p>The high courage and undaunted will which had been the engines she +had used to gain her will from her infant years aided her in these days +to carry out what her keen mind and woman’s wit had designed, +which was to take the county by storm with her beauty, and reign toast +and enslaver until such time as she won the prize of a husband of rich +estates and notable rank.</p> +<p>It was soon bruited abroad, to the amazement of the county, that +Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had changed her strange and unseemly habits +of life, and had become as much a young lady of fashion and breeding +as her birth and charm demanded. This was first made known by +her appearing one Sunday morning at church, accompanied—as though +attended with a retinue of servitors—by Mistress Wimpole and her +two sisters, whose plain faces, awkward shape, and still more awkward +attire were such a foil to her glowing loveliness as set it in high +relief. It was seldom that the coach from Wildairs Hall drew up +before the lych-gate, but upon rare Sunday mornings Mistress Wimpole +and her two charges contrived, if Sir Jeoffry was not in an ill-humour +and the coachman was complaisant, to be driven to service. Usually, +however, they trudged afoot, and, if the day chanced to be sultry, arrived +with their snub-nosed faces of a high and shiny colour, or if the country +roads were wet, with their petticoats bemired.</p> +<p>This morning, when the coach drew up, the horses were well groomed, +the coachman smartly dressed, and a footman was in attendance, who sprang +to earth and opened the door with a flourish.</p> +<p>The loiterers in the churchyard, and those who were approaching the +gate or passing towards the church porch, stared with eyes wide stretched +in wonder and incredulity. Never had such a thing before been +beheld or heard of as what they now saw in broad daylight.</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda, clad in highest town fashion, in brocades and +silver lace and splendid furbelows, stepped forth from the chariot with +the air of a queen. She had the majestic composure of a young +lady who had worn nothing less modish than such raiment all her life, +and who had prayed decorously beneath her neighbours’ eyes since +she had left her nurse’s care.</p> +<p>Her sisters and their governess looked timorous, and as if they knew +not where to cast their eyes for shamefacedness; but not so Mistress +Clorinda, who moved forward with a stately, swimming gait, her fine +head in the air. As she stepped into the porch a young gentleman +drew back and made a profound obeisance to her. She cast her eyes +upon him and returned it with a grace and condescension which struck +the beholders dumb with admiring awe. To some of the people of +a commoner sort he was a stranger, but all connected with the gentry +knew he was Sir John Oxon, who was staying at Eldershawe Park with his +relative, whose estate it was.</p> +<p>How Mistress Clorinda contrived to manage it no one was aware but +herself, but after a few appearances at church she appeared at other +places. She was seen at dinners at fine houses, and began to be +seen at routs and balls. Where she was seen she shone, and with +such radiance as caused matchmaking matrons great dismay, and their +daughters woeful qualms. Once having shone, she could not be extinguished +or hidden under a bushel; for, being of rank and highly connected through +mother as well as father, and playing her cards with great wit and skill, +she could not be thrust aside.</p> +<p>At her first hunt ball she set aflame every male breast in the shire, +unmasking such a battery of charms as no man could withstand the fire +of. Her dazzling eye, her wondrous shape, the rich music of her +laugh, and the mocking wit of her sharp saucy tongue were weapons to +have armed a dozen women, and she was but one, and in the first rich +tempting glow of blooming youth.</p> +<p>She turned more heads and caused more quarrels than she could have +counted had she sat up half the night. She went to her coach with +her father followed by a dozen gallants, each ready to spit the other +for a smile. Her smiles were wondrous, but there seemed always +a touch of mockery or disdain in them which made them more remembered +than if they had been softer.</p> +<p>One man there was, who perchance found something in her high glance +not wholly scornful, but he was used to soft treatment from women, and +had, in sooth, expected milder glances than were bestowed upon him. +This was young Sir John Oxon, who had found himself among the fair sex +that night as great a beau as she had been a belle; but two dances he +had won from her, and this was more than any other man could boast, +and what other gallants envied him with darkest hatred.</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry, who had watched her as she queened it amongst rakes +and fops and honest country squires and knights, had marked the vigour +with which they plied her with an emotion which was a new sensation +to his drink-bemuddled brain. So far as it was in his nature to +love another than himself, he had learned to love this young lovely +virago of his own flesh and blood, perchance because she was the only +creature who had never quailed before him, and had always known how +to bend him to her will.</p> +<p>When the chariot rode away, he looked at her as she sat erect in +the early morning light, as unblenching, bright, and untouched in bloom +as if she had that moment risen from her pillow and washed her face +in dew. He was not so drunk as he had been at midnight, but he +was a little maudlin.</p> +<p>“By God, thou art handsome, Clo!” he said. “By +God, I never saw a finer woman!”</p> +<p>“Nor I,” she answered back, “which I thank Heaven +for.”</p> +<p>“Thou pretty, brazen baggage,” her father laughed. +“Old Dunstanwolde looked thee well over to-night. He never +looked away from the moment he clapped eyes on thee.”</p> +<p>“That I knew better than thee, Dad,” said the beauty; +“and I saw that he could not have done it if he had tried. +If there comes no richer, younger great gentleman, he shall marry me.”</p> +<p>“Thou hast a sharp eye and a keen wit,” said Sir Jeoffry, +looking askance at her with a new maggot in his brain. “Wouldst +never play the fool, I warrant. They will press thee hard and +’twill be hard to withstand their love-making, but I shall never +have to mount and ride off with pistols in my holsters to bring back +a man and make him marry thee, as Chris Crowell had to do for his youngest +wench. Thou wouldst never play the fool, I warrant—wouldst +thou, Clo?”</p> +<p>She tossed her head and laughed like a young scornful devil, showing +her white pearl teeth between her lips’ scarlet.</p> +<p>“Not I,” she said. “There thou mayst trust +me. <i>I</i> would not be found out.”</p> +<p>She played her part as triumphant beauty so successfully that the +cleverest managing mother in the universe could not have bettered her +position. Gallants brawled for her; honest men fell at her feet; +romantic swains wrote verses to her, praising her eyes, her delicate +bosom, the carnation of her cheek, and the awful majesty of her mien. +In every revel she was queen, in every contest of beauties Venus, in +every spectacle of triumph empress of them all.</p> +<p>The Earl of Dunstanwolde, who had the oldest name and the richest +estates in his own county and the six adjoining ones, who, having made +a love-match in his prime, and lost wife and heir but a year after his +nuptials, had been the despair of every maid and mother who knew him, +because he would not be melted to a marriageable mood. After the +hunt ball this mourning nobleman, who was by this time of ripe years, +had appeared in the world again as he had not done for many years. +Before many months had elapsed, it was known that his admiration of +the new beauty was confessed, and it was believed that he but waited +further knowledge of her to advance to the point of laying his title +and estates at her feet.</p> +<p>But though, two years before, the entire county would have rated +low indeed the wit and foresight of the man who had even hinted the +possibility of such honour and good fortune being in prospect for the +young lady, so great was Mistress Clorinda’s brilliant and noble +beauty, and with such majesty she bore herself in these times, that +there were even those who doubted whether she would think my lord a +rich enough prize for her, and if, when he fell upon his knees, she +would deign to become his countess, feeling that she had such splendid +wares to dispose of as might be bartered for a duke, when she went to +town and to court.</p> +<p>During the length of more than one man’s lifetime after, the +reign of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs was a memory recalled over the bottle +at the dining-table among men, some of whom had but heard their fathers +vaunt her beauties. It seemed as if in her person there was not +a single flaw, or indeed a charm, which had not reached the highest +point of beauty. For shape she might have vied with young Diana, +mounted side by side with her upon a pedestal; her raven locks were +of a length and luxuriance to clothe her as a garment, her great eye +commanded and flashed as Juno’s might have done in the goddess’s +divinest moments of lovely pride, and though it was said none ever saw +it languish, each man who adored her was maddened by the secret belief +that Venus’ self could not so melt in love as she if she would +stoop to loving—as each one prayed she might—himself. +Her hands and feet, her neck, the slimness of her waist, her mantling +crimson and ivory white, her little ear, her scarlet lip, the pearls +between them and her long white throat, were perfection each and all, +and catalogued with oaths of rapture.</p> +<p>“She hath such beauties,” one admirer said, “that +a man must toast them all and cannot drink to her as to a single woman. +And she hath so many that to slight none her servant must go from the +table reeling.”</p> +<p>There was but one thing connected with her which was not a weapon +to her hand, and this was, that she was not a fortune. Sir Jeoffry +had drunk and rioted until he had but little left. He had cut +his timber and let his estate go to rack, having, indeed, no money to +keep it up. The great Hall, which had once been a fine old place, +was almost a ruin. Its carved oak and noble rooms and galleries +were all of its past splendours that remained. All had been sold +that could be sold, and all the outcome had been spent. The county, +indeed, wondered where Mistress Clorinda’s fine clothes came from, +and knew full well why she was not taken to court to kneel to the Queen. +That she was waiting for this to make her match, the envious were quite +sure, and did not hesitate to whisper pretty loudly.</p> +<p>The name of one man of rank and fortune after another was spoken +of as that of a suitor to her hand, but in some way it was discovered +that she refused them all. It was also known that they continued +to worship her, and that at any moment she could call even the best +among them back. It seemed that, while all the men were enamoured +of her, there was not one who could cure himself of his passion, however +hopeless it might be.</p> +<p>Her wit was as great as her beauty, and she had a spirit before which +no man could stand if she chose to be disdainful. To some she +was so, and had the whim to flout them with great brilliancy. +Encounters with her were always remembered, and if heard by those not +concerned, were considered worthy both of recollection and of being +repeated to the world; she had a tongue so nimble and a wit so full +of fire.</p> +<p>Young Sir John Oxon’s visit to his relative at Eldershawe being +at an end, he returned to town, and remaining there through a few weeks +of fashionable gaiety, won new reputations as a triumpher over the female +heart. He made some renowned conquests and set the mode in some +new essences and sword-knots. But even these triumphs appeared +to pall upon him shortly, since he deserted the town and returned again +to the country, where, on this occasion, he did not stay with his relative, +but with Sir Jeoffry himself, who had taken a boisterous fancy to him.</p> +<p>It had been much marked since the altered life of Mistress Clorinda +that she, who had previously defied all rules laid down on behaviour +for young ladies, and had been thought to do so because she knew none +of them, now proved that her wild fashion had been but wilfulness, since +it was seen that she must have observed and marked manners with the +best. There seemed no decorum she did not know how to observe +with the most natural grace. It was, indeed, all grace and majesty, +there being no suggestion of the prude about her, but rather the manner +of a young lady having been born with pride and stateliness, and most +carefully bred. This was the result of her wondrous wit, the highness +of her talents, and the strength of her will, which was of such power +that she could carry out without fail anything she chose to undertake. +There are some women who have beauty, and some who have wit or vigour +of understanding, but she possessed all three, and with them such courage +and strength of nerve as would have well equipped a man.</p> +<p>Quick as her wit was and ready as were her brilliant quips and sallies, +there was no levity in her demeanour, and she kept Mistress Margery +Wimpole in discreet attendance upon her, as if she had been the daughter +of a Spanish Hidalgo, never to be approached except in the presence +of her duenna. Poor Mistress Margery, finding her old fears removed, +was overpowered with new ones. She had no lawlessness or hoyden +manners to contend with, but instead a haughtiness so high and demands +so great that her powers could scarcely satisfy the one or her spirit +stand up before the other.</p> +<p>“It is as if one were lady-in-waiting to her Majesty’s +self,” she used to whimper when she was alone and dare do so. +“Surely the Queen has not such a will and such a temper. +She will have me toil to look worthy of her in my habit, and bear myself +like a duchess in dignity. Alack! I have practised my obeisance +by the hour to perfect it, so that I may escape her wrath. And +I must know how to look, and when and where to sit, and with what air +of being near at hand, while I must see nothing! And I must drag +my failing limbs hither and thither with genteel ease while I ache from +head to foot, being neither young nor strong.”</p> +<p>The poor lady was so overawed by, and yet so admired, her charge, +that it was piteous to behold.</p> +<p>“She is an arrant fool,” quoth Mistress Clorinda to her +father. “A nice duenna she would be, forsooth, if she were +with a woman who needed watching. She could be hoodwinked as it +pleased me a dozen times a day. It is I who am her guard, not +she mine! But a beauty must drag some spy about with her, it seems, +and she I can make to obey me like a spaniel. We can afford no +better, and she is well born, and since I bought her the purple paduasoy +and the new lappets she has looked well enough to serve.”</p> +<p>“Dunstanwolde need not fear for thee now,” said Sir Jeoffry. +“Thou art a clever and foreseeing wench, Clo.”</p> +<p>“Dunstanwolde nor any man!” she answered. “There +will be no gossip of me. It is Anne and Barbara thou must look +to, Dad, lest their plain faces lead them to show soft hearts. +My face is my fortune!”</p> +<p>When Sir John Oxon paid his visit to Sir Jeoffry the days of Mistress +Margery were filled with carking care. The night before he arrived, +Mistress Clorinda called her to her closet and laid upon her her commands +in her own high way. She was under her woman’s hands, and +while her great mantle of black hair fell over the back of her chair +and lay on the floor, her tirewoman passing the brush over it, lock +by lock, she was at her greatest beauty. Either she had been angered +or pleased, for her cheek wore a bloom even deeper and richer than usual, +and there was a spark like a diamond under the fringe of her lashes.</p> +<p>At her first timorous glance at her, Mistress Margery thought she +must have been angered, the spark so burned in her eyes, and so evident +was the light but quick heave of her bosom; but the next moment it seemed +as if she must be in a pleasant humour, for a little smile deepened +the dimples in the corner of her bowed, full lips. But quickly +she looked up and resumed her stately air.</p> +<p>“This gentleman who comes to visit to-morrow,” she said, +“Sir John Oxon—do you know aught of him?”</p> +<p>“But little, Madame,” Mistress Margery answered with +fear and humility.</p> +<p>“Then it will be well that you should, since I have commands +to lay upon you concerning him,” said the beauty.</p> +<p>“You do me honour,” said the poor gentlewoman.</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda looked her straight in the face.</p> +<p>“He is a gentleman from town, the kinsman of Lord Eldershawe,” +she said. “He is a handsome man, concerning whom many women +have been fools. He chooses to allow it to be said that he is +a conqueror of female hearts and virtue, even among women of fashion +and rank. If this be said in the town, what may not be said in +the country? He shall wear no such graces here. He chooses +to pay his court to me. He is my father’s guest and a man +of fashion. Let him make as many fine speeches as he has the will +to. I will listen or not as I choose. I am used to words. +But see that we are not left alone.”</p> +<p>The tirewoman pricked up her ears. Clorinda saw her in the +glass.</p> +<p>“Attend to thy business if thou dost not want a box o’ +the ear,” she said in a tone which made the woman start.</p> +<p>“You would not be left alone with the gentleman, Madam?” +faltered Mistress Margery.</p> +<p>“If he comes to boast of conquests,” said Mistress Clorinda, +looking at her straight again and drawing down her black brows, “I +will play as cleverly as he. He cannot boast greatly of one whom +he never makes his court to but in the presence of a kinswoman of ripe +years. Understand that this is to be your task.”</p> +<p>“I will remember,” Madam, answered Mistress Margery. +“I will bear myself as you command.”</p> +<p>“That is well,” said Mistress Clorinda. “I +will keep you no more. You may go.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI—Relating how Mistress Anne discovered a miniature</h2> +<p>The good gentlewoman took her leave gladly. She had spent a +life in timid fears of such things and persons as were not formed by +Nature to excite them, but never had she experienced such humble terrors +as those with which Mistress Clorinda inspired her. Never did +she approach her without inward tremor, and never did she receive permission +to depart from her presence without relief. And yet her beauty +and wit and spirit had no admirer regarding them with more of wondering +awe.</p> +<p>In the bare west wing of the house, comfortless though the neglect +of its master had made it, there was one corner where she was unafraid. +Her first charges, Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne, were young ladies +of gentle spirit. Their sister had said of them that their spirit +was as poor as their looks. It could not be said of them by any +one that they had any pretension to beauty, but that which Mistress +Clorinda rated at as poor spirit was the one element of comfort in their +poor dependent kinswoman’s life. They gave her no ill words, +they indulged in no fantastical whims and vapours, and they did not +even seem to expect other entertainment than to walk the country roads, +to play with their little lap-dog Cupid, wind silks for their needlework, +and please themselves with their embroidery-frames.</p> +<p>To them their sister appeared a goddess whom it would be presumptuous +to approach in any frame of mind quite ordinary. Her beauty must +be heightened by rich adornments, while their plain looks were left +without the poorest aid. It seemed but fitting that what there +was to spend must be spent on her. They showed no signs of resentment, +and took with gratitude such cast-off finery as she deigned at times +to bestow upon them, when it was no longer useful to herself. +She was too full of the occupations of pleasure to have had time to +notice them, even if her nature had inclined her to the observance of +family affections. It was their habit, when they knew of her going +out in state, to watch her incoming and outgoing through a peep-hole +in a chamber window. Mistress Margery told them stories of her +admirers and of her triumphs, of the county gentlemen of fortune who +had offered themselves to her, and of the modes of life in town of the +handsome Sir John Oxon, who, without doubt, was of the circle of her +admiring attendants, if he had not fallen totally her victim, as others +had.</p> +<p>Of the two young women, it was Mistress Anne who had the more parts, +and the attraction of the mind the least dull. In sooth, Nature +had dealt with both in a niggardly fashion, but Mistress Barbara was +the plainer and the more foolish. Mistress Anne had, perchance, +the tenderer feelings, and was in secret given to a certain sentimentality. +She was thin and stooping, and had but a muddy complexion; her hair +was heavy, it is true, but its thickness and weight seemed naught but +an ungrateful burden; and she had a dull, soft eye. In private +she was fond of reading such romances as she could procure by stealth +from the library of books gathered together in past times by some ancestor +Sir Jeoffry regarded as an idiot. Doubtless she met with strange +reading in the volumes she took to her closet, and her simple virgin +mind found cause for the solving of many problems; but from the pages +she contrived to cull stories of lordly lovers and cruel or kind beauties, +whose romances created for her a strange world of pleasure in the midst +of her loneliness. Poor, neglected young female, with every guileless +maiden instinct withered at birth, she had need of some tender dreams +to dwell upon, though Fate herself seemed to have decreed that they +must be no more than visions.</p> +<p>It was, in sooth, always the beauteous Clorinda about whose charms +she builded her romances. In her great power she saw that for +which knights fought in tourney and great kings committed royal sins, +and to her splendid beauty she had in secrecy felt that all might be +forgiven. She cherished such fancies of her, that one morning, +when she believed her absent from the house, she stole into the corridor +upon which Clorinda’s apartment opened. Her first timid +thought had been, that if a chamber door were opened she might catch +a glimpse of some of the splendours her sister’s woman was surely +laying out for her wearing at a birth-night ball, at the house of one +of the gentry of the neighbourhood. But it so happened that she +really found the door of entrance open, which, indeed, she had not more +than dared to hope, and finding it so, she stayed her footsteps to gaze +with beating heart within. On the great bed, which was of carved +oak and canopied with tattered tapestry, there lay spread such splendours +as she had never beheld near to before. ’Twas blue and silver +brocade Mistress Clorinda was to shine in to-night; it lay spread forth +in all its dimensions. The beautiful bosom and shoulders were +to be bared to the eyes of scores of adorers, but rich lace was to set +their beauties forth, and strings of pearls. Why Sir Jeoffry had +not sold his lady’s jewels before he became enamoured of her six-year-old +child it would be hard to explain. There was a great painted fan +with jewels in the sticks, and on the floor—as if peeping forth +from beneath the bravery of the expanded petticoats—was a pair +of blue and silver shoes, high-heeled and arched and slender. +In gazing at them Mistress Anne lost her breath, thinking that in some +fashion they had a regal air of being made to trample hearts beneath +them.</p> +<p>To the gentle, hapless virgin, to whom such possessions were as the +wardrobe of a queen, the temptation to behold them near was too great. +She could not forbear from passing the threshold, and she did with heaving +breast. She approached the bed and gazed; she dared to touch the +scented gloves that lay by the outspread petticoat of blue and silver; +she even laid a trembling finger upon the pointed bodice, which was +so slender that it seemed small enough for even a child.</p> +<p>“Ah me,” she sighed gently, “how beautiful she +will be! How beautiful! And all of them will fall at her +feet, as is not to be wondered at. And it was always so all her +life, even when she was an infant, and all gave her her will because +of her beauty and her power. She hath a great power. Barbara +and I are not so. We are dull and weak, and dare not speak our +minds. It is as if we were creatures of another world; but He +who rules all things has so willed it for us. He has given it +to us for our portion—our portion.”</p> +<p>Her dull, poor face dropped a little as she spoke the words, and +her eyes fell upon the beauteous tiny shoes, which seemed to trample +even when no foot was within them. She stooped to take one in +her hand, but as she was about to lift it something which seemed to +have been dropped upon the floor, and to have rolled beneath the valance +of the bed, touched her hand. It was a thing to which a riband +was attached—an ivory miniature—and she picked it up wondering. +She stood up gazing at it, in such bewilderment to find her eyes upon +it that she scarce knew what she did. She did not mean to pry; +she would not have had the daring so to do if she had possessed the +inclination. But the instant her eyes told her what they saw, +she started and blushed as she had never blushed before in her tame +life. The warm rose mantled her cheeks, and even suffused the +neck her chaste kerchief hid. Her eye kindled with admiration +and an emotion new to her indeed.</p> +<p>“How beautiful!” she said. “He is like a +young Adonis, and has the bearing of a royal prince! How can it—by +what strange chance hath it come here?”</p> +<p>She had not regarded it more than long enough to have uttered these +words, when a fear came upon her, and she felt that she had fallen into +misfortune.</p> +<p>“What must I do with it?” she trembled. “What +will she say, whether she knows of its being within the chamber or not? +She will be angry with me that I have dared to touch it. What +shall I do?”</p> +<p>She regarded it again with eyes almost suffused. Her blush +and the sensibility of her emotion gave to her plain countenance a new +liveliness of tint and expression.</p> +<p>“I will put it back where I found it,” she said, “and +the one who knows it will find it later. It cannot be she—it +cannot be she! If I laid it on her table she would rate me bitterly—and +she can be bitter when she will.”</p> +<p>She bent and placed it within the shadow of the valance again, and +as she felt it touch the hard oak of the polished floor her bosom rose +with a soft sigh.</p> +<p>“It is an unseemly thing to do,” she said; “’tis +as though one were uncivil; but I dare not—I dare not do otherwise.”</p> +<p>She would have turned to leave the apartment, being much overcome +by the incident, but just as she would have done so she heard the sound +of horses’ feet through the window by which she must pass, and +looked out to see if it was Clorinda who was returning from her ride. +Mistress Clorinda was a matchless horsewoman, and a marvel of loveliness +and spirit she looked when she rode, sitting upon a horse such as no +other woman dared to mount—always an animal of the greatest beauty, +but of so dangerous a spirit that her riding-whip was loaded like a +man’s.</p> +<p>This time it was not she; and when Mistress Anne beheld the young +gentleman who had drawn rein in the court she started backward and put +her hand to her heart, the blood mantling her pale cheek again in a +flood. But having started back, the next instant she started forward +to gaze again, all her timid soul in her eyes.</p> +<p>“’Tis he!” she panted; “’tis he himself! +He hath come in hope to speak with my sister, and she is abroad. +Poor gentleman, he hath come in such high spirit, and must ride back +heavy of heart. How comely, and how finely clad he is!”</p> +<p>He was, in sooth, with his rich riding-habit, his handsome face, +his plumed hat, and the sun shining on the fair luxuriant locks which +fell beneath it. It was Sir John Oxon, and he was habited as when +he rode in the park in town and the court was there. Not so were +attired the country gentry whom Anne had been wont to see, though many +of them were well mounted, knowing horseflesh and naught else, as they +did.</p> +<p>She pressed her cheek against the side of the oriel window, over +which the ivy grew thickly. She was so intent that she could not +withdraw her gaze. She watched him as he turned away, having received +his dismissal, and she pressed her face closer that she might follow +him as he rode down the long avenue of oak-trees, his servant riding +behind.</p> +<p>Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him +from her sight; and even then the spell was not dissolved, and she still +regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind her made +her start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and rich, +and when she so started and turned to see whom it might be, she beheld +her sister Clorinda, who was standing just within the threshold, as +if movement had been arrested by what had met her eye as she came in. +Poor Anne put her hand to her side again.</p> +<p>“Oh sister!” she gasped; “oh sister!” but +could say no more.</p> +<p>She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been +out at all, for she was in home attire; and even in the midst of her +trepidation there sprang into Anne’s mind the awful thought that +through some servant’s blunder the comely young visitor had been +sent away. For herself, she expected but to be driven forth with +wrathful, disdainful words for her presumption. For what else +could she hope from this splendid creature, who, while of her own flesh +and blood, had never seemed to regard her as being more than a poor +superfluous underling? But strangely enough, there was no anger +in Clorinda’s eyes; she but laughed, as though what she had seen +had made her merry.</p> +<p>“You here, Anne,” she said, “and looking with light-mindedness +after gallant gentlemen! Mistress Margery should see to this and +watch more closely, or we shall have unseemly stories told. <i>You</i>, +sister, with your modest face and bashfulness! I had not thought +it of you.”</p> +<p>Suddenly she crossed the room to where her sister stood drooping, +and seized her by the shoulder, so that she could look her well in the +face.</p> +<p>“What,” she said, with a mocking not quite harsh—“What +is this? Does a glance at a fine gallant, even taken from behind +an oriel window, make such change indeed? I never before saw this +look, nor this colour, forsooth; it hath improved thee wondrously, Anne—wondrously.”</p> +<p>“Sister,” faltered Anne, “I so desired to see your +birth-night ball-gown, of which Mistress Margery hath much spoken—I +so desired—I thought it would not matter if, the door being open +and it spread forth upon the bed—I—I stole a look at it. +And then I was tempted—and came in.”</p> +<p>“And then was tempted more,” Clorinda laughed, still +regarding her downcast countenance shrewdly, “by a thing far less +to be resisted—a fine gentleman from town, with love-locks falling +on his shoulders and ladies’ hearts strung at his saddle-bow by +scores. Which found you the most beautiful?”</p> +<p>“Your gown is splendid, sister,” said Anne, with modest +shyness. “There will be no beauty who will wear another +like it; or should there be one, she will not carry it as you will.”</p> +<p>“But the man—the man, Anne,” Clorinda laughed again. +“What of the man?”</p> +<p>Anne plucked up just enough of her poor spirit to raise her eyes +to the brilliant ones that mocked at her.</p> +<p>“With such gentlemen, sister,” she said, “is it +like that <i>I</i> have aught to do?”</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda dropped her hand and left laughing.</p> +<p>“’Tis true,” she said, “it is not; but for +this one time, Anne, thou lookest almost a woman.”</p> +<p>“’Tis not beauty alone that makes womanhood,” said +Anne, her head on her breast again. “In some book I have +read that—that it is mostly pain. I am woman enough for +that.”</p> +<p>“You have read—you have read,” quoted Clorinda. +“You are the bookworm, I remember, and filch romances and poems +from the shelves. And you have read that it is mostly pain that +makes a woman? ’Tis not true. ’Tis a poor lie. +<i>I</i> am a woman and I do not suffer—for I <i>will</i> not, +that I swear! And when I take an oath I keep it, mark you! +It is men women suffer for; that was what your scholar meant—for +such fine gentlemen as the one you have just watched while he rode away. +More fools they! No man shall make <i>me</i> womanly in such a +fashion, I promise you! Let <i>them</i> wince and kneel; <i>I</i> +will not.”</p> +<p>“Sister,” Anne faltered, “I thought you were not +within. The gentleman who rode away—did the servants know?”</p> +<p>“That did they,” quoth Clorinda, mocking again. +“They knew that I would not receive him to-day, and so sent him +away. He might have known as much himself, but he is an arrant +popinjay, and thinks all women wish to look at his fine shape, and hear +him flatter them when he is in the mood.”</p> +<p>“You would not—let him enter?”</p> +<p>Clorinda threw her graceful body into a chair with more light laughter.</p> +<p>“I would not,” she answered. “You cannot +understand such ingratitude, poor Anne; you would have treated him more +softly. Sit down and talk to me, and I will show thee my furbelows +myself. All women like to chatter of their laced bodices and petticoats. +<i>That</i> is what makes a woman.”</p> +<p>Anne was tremulous with relief and pleasure. It was as if a +queen had bid her to be seated. She sat almost with the humble +lack of ease a serving-woman might have shown. She had never seen +Clorinda wear such an air before, and never had she dreamed that she +would so open herself to any fellow-creature. She knew but little +of what her sister was capable—of the brilliancy of her charm +when she chose to condescend, of the deigning softness of her manner +when she chose to please, of her arch-pleasantries and cutting wit, +and of the strange power she could wield over any human being, gentle +or simple, with whom she came in contact. But if she had not known +of these things before, she learned to know them this morning. +For some reason best known to herself, Mistress Clorinda was in a high +good humour. She kept Anne with her for more than an hour, and +was dazzling through every moment of its passing. She showed her +the splendours she was to shine in at the birth-night ball, even bringing +forth her jewels and displaying them. She told her stories of +the house of which the young heir to-day attained his majority, and +mocked at the poor youth because he was ungainly, and at a distance +had been her slave since his nineteenth year.</p> +<p>“I have scarce looked at him,” she said. “He +is a lout, with great eyes staring, and a red nose. It does not +need that one should look at men to win them. They look at us, +and that is enough.”</p> +<p>To poor Mistress Anne, who had seen no company and listened to no +wits, the entertainment bestowed upon her was as wonderful as a night +at the playhouse would have been. To watch the vivid changing +face; to hearken to jesting stories of men and women who seemed like +the heroes and heroines of her romances; to hear love itself—the +love she trembled and palpitated at the mere thought of—spoken +of openly as an experience which fell to all; to hear it mocked at with +dainty or biting quips; to learn that women of all ages played with, +enjoyed, or lost themselves for it—it was with her as if a nun +had been withdrawn from her cloister and plunged into the vortex of +the world.</p> +<p>“Sister,” she said, looking at the Beauty with humble, +adoring eyes, “you make me feel that my romances are true. +You tell such things. It is like seeing pictures of things to +hear you talk. No wonder that all listen to you, for indeed ’tis +wonderful the way you have with words. You use them so that ’tis +as though they had shapes of their own and colours, and you builded +with them. I thank you for being so gracious to me, who have seen +so little, and cannot tell the poor, quiet things I have seen.”</p> +<p>And being led into the loving boldness by her gratitude, she bent +forward and touched with her lips the fair hand resting on the chair’s +arm.</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda fixed her fine eyes upon her in a new way.</p> +<p>“I’ faith, it doth not seem fair, Anne,” she said. +“I should not like to change lives with thee. Thou hast +eyes like a shot pheasant—soft, and with the bright hid beneath +the dull. Some man might love them, even if thou art no beauty. +Stay,” suddenly; “methinks—”</p> +<p>She uprose from her chair and went to the oaken wardrobe, and threw +the door of it open wide while she looked within.</p> +<p>“There is a gown and tippet or so here, and a hood and some +ribands I might do without,” she said. “My woman shall +bear them to your chamber, and show you how to set them to rights. +She is a nimble-fingered creature, and a gown of mine would give almost +stuff enough to make you two. Then some days, when I am not going +abroad and Mistress Margery frets me too much, I will send for you to +sit with me, and you shall listen to the gossip when a visitor drops +in to have a dish of tea.”</p> +<p>Anne would have kissed her feet then, if she had dared to do so. +She blushed red all over, and adored her with a more worshipping gaze +than before.</p> +<p>“I should not have dared to hope so much,” she stammered. +“I could not—perhaps it is not fitting—perhaps I could +not bear myself as I should. I would try to show myself a gentlewoman +and seemly. I—I <i>am</i> a gentlewoman, though I have learned +so little. I could not be aught but a gentlewoman, could I, sister, +being of your own blood and my parents’ child?” half afraid +to presume even this much.</p> +<p>“No,” said Clorinda. “Do not be a fool, Anne, +and carry yourself too humbly before the world. You can be as +humble as you like to me.”</p> +<p>“I shall—I shall be your servant and worship you, sister,” +cried the poor soul, and she drew near and kissed again the white hand +which had bestowed with such royal bounty all this joy. It would +not have occurred to her that a cast-off robe and riband were but small +largesse.</p> +<p>It was not a minute after this grateful caress that Clorinda made +a sharp movement—a movement which was so sharp that it seemed +to be one of dismay. At first, as if involuntarily, she had raised +her hand to her tucker, and after doing so she started—though +’twas but for a second’s space, after which her face was +as it had been before.</p> +<p>“What is it?” exclaimed Anne. “Have you lost +anything?”</p> +<p>“No,” quoth Mistress Clorinda quite carelessly, as she +once more turned to the contents of the oaken wardrobe; “but I +thought I missed a trinket I was wearing for a wager, and I would not +lose it before the bet is won.”</p> +<p>“Sister,” ventured Anne before she left her and went +away to her own dull world in the west wing, “there is a thing +I can do if you will allow me. I can mend your tapestry hangings +which have holes in them. I am quick at my needle, and should +love to serve you in such poor ways as I can; and it is not seemly that +they should be so worn. All things about you should be beautiful +and well kept.”</p> +<p>“Can you make these broken things beautiful?” said Clorinda. +“Then indeed you shall. You may come here to mend them when +you will.”</p> +<p>“They are very fine hangings, though so old and ill cared for,” +said Anne, looking up at them; “and I shall be only too happy +sitting here thinking of all you are doing while I am at my work.”</p> +<p>“Thinking of all I am doing?” laughed Mistress Clorinda. +“That would give you such wondrous things to dream of, Anne, that +you would have no time for your needle, and my hangings would stay as +they are.”</p> +<p>“I can think and darn also,” said Mistress Anne, “so +I will come.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII—’Twas the face of Sir John Oxon the moon +shone upon</h2> +<p>From that time henceforward into the young woman’s dull life +there came a little change. It did not seem a little change to +her, but a great one, though to others it would have seemed slight indeed. +She was an affectionate, house-wifely creature, who would have made +the best of wives and mothers if it had been so ordained by Fortune, +and something of her natural instincts found outlet in the furtive service +she paid her sister, who became the empress of her soul. She darned +and patched the tattered hangings with a wonderful neatness, and the +hours she spent at work in the chamber were to her almost as sacred +as hours spent at religious duty, or as those nuns and novices give +to embroidering altar-cloths. There was a brightness in the room +that seemed in no other in the house, and the lingering essences in +the air of it were as incense to her. In secrecy she even busied +herself with keeping things in better order than Rebecca, Mistress Clorinda’s +woman, had ever had time to do before. She also contrived to get +into her own hands some duties that were Rebecca’s own. +She could mend lace cleverly and arrange riband-knots with taste, and +even change the fashion of a gown. The hard-worked tirewoman was +but too glad to be relieved, and kept her secret well, being praised +many times for the set or fashion of a thing into which she had not +so much as set a needle. Being a shrewd baggage, she was wise +enough always to relate to Anne the story of her mistress’s pleasure, +having the wit to read in her delight that she would be encouraged to +fresh effort.</p> +<p>At times it so befell that, when Anne went into the bed-chamber, +she found the beauty there, who, if she chanced to be in the humour, +would detain her in her presence for a space and bewitch her over again. +In sooth, it seemed that she took a pleasure in showing her female adorer +how wondrously full of all fascinations she could be. At such +times Anne’s plain face would almost bloom with excitement, and +her shot pheasant’s eyes would glow as if beholding a goddess.</p> +<p>She neither saw nor heard more of the miniature on the riband. +It used to make her tremble at times to fancy that by some strange chance +it might still be under the bed, and that the handsome face smiled and +the blue eyes gazed in the very apartment where she herself sat and +her sister was robed and disrobed in all her beauty.</p> +<p>She used all her modest skill in fitting to her own shape and refurnishing +the cast-off bits of finery bestowed upon her. It was all set +to rights long before Clorinda recalled to mind that she had promised +that Anne should sometime see her chance visitors take their dish of +tea with her.</p> +<p>But one day, for some cause, she did remember, and sent for her.</p> +<p>Anne ran to her bed-chamber and donned her remodelled gown with shaking +hands. She laughed a little hysterically as she did it, seeing +her plain snub-nosed face in the glass. She tried to dress her +head in a fashion new to her, and knew she did it ill and untidily, +but had no time to change it. If she had had some red she would +have put it on, but such vanities were not in her chamber or Barbara’s. +So she rubbed her cheeks hard, and even pinched them, so that in the +end they looked as if they were badly rouged. It seemed to her +that her nose grew red too, and indeed ’twas no wonder, for her +hands and feet were like ice.</p> +<p>“She must be ashamed of me,” the humble creature said +to herself. “And if she is ashamed she will be angered and +send me away and be friends no more.”</p> +<p>She did not deceive herself, poor thing, and imagine she had the +chance of being regarded with any great lenience if she appeared ill.</p> +<p>“Mistress Clorinda begged that you would come quickly,” +said Rebecca, knocking at the door.</p> +<p>So she caught her handkerchief, which was scented, as all her garments +were, with dried rose-leaves from the garden, which she had conserved +herself, and went down to the chintz parlour trembling.</p> +<p>It was a great room with white panels, and flowered coverings to +the furniture. There were a number of ladies and gentlemen standing +talking and laughing loudly together. The men outnumbered the +women, and most of them stood in a circle about Mistress Clorinda, who +sat upright in a great flowered chair, smiling with her mocking, stately +air, as if she defied them to dare to speak what they felt.</p> +<p>Anne came in like a mouse. Nobody saw her. She did not, +indeed, know what to do. She dared not remain standing all alone, +so she crept to the place where her sister’s chair was, and stood +a little behind its high back. Her heart beat within her breast +till it was like to choke her.</p> +<p>They were only country gentlemen who made the circle, but to her +they seemed dashing gallants. That some of them had red noses +as well as cheeks, and that their voices were big and their gallantries +boisterous, was no drawback to their manly charms, she having seen no +other finer gentlemen. They were specimens of the great conquering +creature Man, whom all women must aspire to please if they have the +fortunate power; and each and all of them were plainly trying to please +Clorinda, and not she them.</p> +<p>And so Anne gazed at them with admiring awe, waiting until there +should come a pause in which she might presume to call her sister’s +attention to her presence; but suddenly, before she had indeed made +up her mind how she might best announce herself, there spoke behind +her a voice of silver.</p> +<p>“It is only goddesses,” said the voice, “who waft +about them as they move the musk of the rose-gardens of Araby. +When you come to reign over us in town, Madam, there will be no perfume +in the mode but that of rose-leaves, and in all drawing-rooms we shall +breathe but their perfume.”</p> +<p>And there, at her side, was bowing, in cinnamon and crimson, with +jewelled buttons on his velvet coat, the beautiful being whose fair +locks the sun had shone on the morning she had watched him ride away—the +man whom the imperial beauty had dismissed and called a popinjay.</p> +<p>Clorinda looked under her lashes towards him without turning, but +in so doing beheld Anne standing in waiting.</p> +<p>“A fine speech lost,” she said, “though ’twas +well enough for the country, Sir John. ’Tis thrown away, +because ’tis not I who am scented with rose-leaves, but Anne there, +whom you must not ogle. Come hither, sister, and do not hide as +if you were ashamed to be looked at.”</p> +<p>And she drew her forward, and there Anne stood, and all of them stared +at her poor, plain, blushing face, and the Adonis in cinnamon and crimson +bowed low, as if she had been a duchess, that being his conqueror’s +way with gentle or simple, maid, wife, or widow, beauty or homespun +uncomeliness.</p> +<p>It was so with him always; he could never resist the chance of luring +to himself a woman’s heart, whether he wanted it or not, and he +had a charm, a strange and wonderful one, it could not be denied. +Anne palpitated indeed as she made her curtsey to him, and wondered +if Heaven had ever before made so fine a gentleman and so beautiful +a being.</p> +<p>She went but seldom to this room again, and when she went she stood +always in the background, far more in fear that some one would address +her than that she should meet with neglect. She was used to neglect, +and to being regarded as a nonentity, and aught else discomfited her. +All her pleasure was to hear what was said, though ’twas not always +of the finest wit—and to watch Clorinda play the queen among her +admirers and her slaves. She would not have dared to speak of +Sir John Oxon frequently—indeed, she let fall his name but rarely; +but she learned a curious wit in contriving to hear all things concerning +him. It was her habit cunningly to lead Mistress Margery to talking +about him and relating long histories of his conquests and his grace. +Mistress Wimpole knew many of them, having, for a staid and prudent +matron, a lively interest in his ways. It seemed, truly—if +one must believe her long-winded stories—that no duchess under +seventy had escaped weeping for him and losing rest, and that ladies +of all ranks had committed follies for his sake.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne, having led her to this fruitful subject, would sit +and listen, bending over her embroidery frame with strange emotions, +causing her virgin breast to ache with their swelling. She would +lie awake at night thinking in the dark, with her heart beating. +Surely, surely there was no other man on earth who was so fitted to +Clorinda, and to whom it was so suited that this empress should give +her charms. Surely no woman, however beautiful or proud, could +dismiss his suit when he pressed it. And then, poor woman, her +imagination strove to paint the splendour of their mutual love, though +of such love she knew so little. But it must, in sooth, be bliss +and rapture; and perchance, was her humble thought, she might see it +from afar, and hear of it. And when they went to court, and Clorinda +had a great mansion in town, and many servants who needed a housewife’s +eye upon their doings to restrain them from wastefulness and riot, might +it not chance to be that if she served well now, and had the courage +to plead with her then, she might be permitted to serve her there, living +quite apart in some quiet corner of the house. And then her wild +thoughts would go so far that she would dream—reddening at her +own boldness—of a child who might be born to them, a lordly infant +son and heir, whose eyes might be blue and winning, and his hair in +great fair locks, and whom she might nurse and tend and be a slave to—and +love—and love—and love, and who might end by knowing she +was his tender servant, always to be counted on, and might look at her +with that wooing, laughing glance, and even love her too.</p> +<p>The night Clorinda laid her commands upon Mistress Wimpole concerning +the coming of Sir John Oxon, that matron, after receiving them, hurried +to her other charges, flurried and full of talk, and poured forth her +wonder and admiration at length.</p> +<p>“She is a wondrous lady!” she said—“she is +indeed! It is not alone her beauty, but her spirit and her wit. +Mark you how she sees all things and lets none pass, and can lay a plan +as prudent as any lady old enough to be twice her mother. She +knows all the ways of the world of fashion, and will guard herself against +gossip in such a way that none can gainsay her high virtue. Her +spirit is too great to allow that she may even <i>seem</i> to be as +the town ladies. She will not have it! Sir John will not +find his court easy to pay. She will not allow that he shall be +able to say to any one that he has seen her alone a moment. Thus, +she says, he cannot boast. If all ladies were as wise and cunning, +there would be no tales to tell.” She talked long and garrulously, +and set forth to them how Mistress Clorinda had looked straight at her +with her black eyes, until she had almost shaken as she sat, because +it seemed as though she dared her to disobey her will; and how she had +sat with her hair trailing upon the floor over the chair’s back, +and at first it had seemed that she was flushed with anger, but next +as if she had smiled.</p> +<p>“Betimes,” said Mistress Wimpole, “I am afraid +when she smiles, but to-night some thought had crossed her mind that +pleased her. I think it was that she liked to think that he who +has conquered so many ladies will find that he is to be outwitted and +made a mock of. She likes that others shall be beaten if she thinks +them impudent. She liked it as a child, and would flog the stable-boys +with her little whip until they knelt to beg her pardon for their freedoms.”</p> +<p>That night Mistress Anne went to her bed-chamber with her head full +of wandering thoughts, and she had not the power to bid them disperse +themselves and leave her—indeed, she scarce wished for it. +She was thinking of Clorinda, and wondering sadly that she was of so +high a pride that she could bear herself as though there were no human +weakness in her breast, not even the womanly weakness of a heart. +How could it be possible that she could treat with disdain this gallant +gentleman, if he loved her, as he surely must? Herself she had +been sure that she had seen an ardent flame in his blue eyes, even that +first day when he had bowed to her with that air of grace as he spoke +of the fragrance of the rose leaves he had thought wafted from her robe. +How could a woman whom he loved resist him? How could she cause +him to suffer by forcing him to stand at arm’s length when he +sighed to draw near and breathe his passion at her feet?</p> +<p>In the silence of her chamber as she disrobed, she sighed with restless +pain, but did not know that her sighing was for grief that love—of +which there seemed so little in some lives—could be wasted and +flung away. She could not fall into slumber when she lay down +upon her pillow, but tossed from side to side with a burdened heart.</p> +<p>“She is so young and beautiful and proud,” she thought. +“It is because I am so much older that I can see these things—that +I see that this is surely the one man who should be her husband. +There may be many others, but they are none of them her equals, and +she would scorn and hate them when she was once bound to them for life. +This one is as beautiful as she—and full of grace, and wit, and +spirit. She could not look down upon him, however wrath she was +at any time. Ah me! She should not spurn him, surely she +should not!”</p> +<p>She was so restless and ill at ease that she could not lie upon her +bed, but rose therefrom, as she often did in her wakeful hours, and +went to her lattice, gently opening it to look out upon the night, and +calm herself by sitting with her face uplifted to the stars, which from +her childhood she had fancied looked down upon her kindly and as if +they would give her comfort.</p> +<p>To-night there were no stars. There should have been a moon +three-quarters full, but, in the evening, clouds had drifted across +the sky and closed over all heavily, so that no moonlight was to be +seen, save when a rare sudden gust made a ragged rent, for a moment, +in the blackness.</p> +<p>She did not sit this time, but knelt, clad in her night-rail as she +was. All was sunk into the profoundest silence of the night. +By this time the entire household had been long enough abed to be plunged +in sleep. She alone was waking, and being of that simple mind +which, like a child’s, must ever bear its trouble to a protecting +strength, she looked up at the darkness of the cloudy sky and prayed +for the better fortune of the man who had indeed not remembered her +existence after the moment he had made her his obeisance. She +was too plain and sober a creature to be remembered.</p> +<p>“Perchance,” she murmured, “he is at this moment +also looking at the clouds from his window, because he cannot sleep +for thinking that in two days he will be beneath her father’s +roof and will see her loveliness, and he must needs be contriving within +his mind what he will say, if she do but look as if she might regard +him with favour, which I pray she will.”</p> +<p>From the path below, that moment there rose a slight sound, so slight +a one that for a moment she thought she must have been deceived in believing +it had fallen upon her ear. All was still after it for full two +minutes, and had she heard no more she would have surely forgotten she +had heard aught, or would have believed herself but the victim of fancy. +But after the long pause the same sound came again, though this time +it was slighter; yet, despite its slightness, it seemed to her to be +the crushing of the earth and stone beneath a cautious foot. It +was a foot so cautious that it was surely stealthy and scarce dared +to advance at all. And then all was still again. She was +for a moment overcome with fears, not being of a courageous temper, +and having heard, but of late, of a bold gipsy vagabond who, with a +companion, had broken into the lower rooms of a house of the neighbourhood, +and being surprised by its owner, had only been overcome and captured +after a desperate fight, in which shots were exchanged, and one of the +hurriedly-awakened servants killed. So she leaned forward to hearken +further, wondering what she should do to best alarm the house, and, +as she bent so, she heard the sound again and a smothered oath, and +with her straining eyes saw that surely upon the path there stood a +dark-draped figure. She rose with great care to her feet, and +stood a moment shaking and clinging to the window-ledge, while she bethought +her of what servants she could wake first, and how she could reach her +father’s room. Her poor heart beat in her side, and her +breath came quickly. The soundlessness of the night was broken +by one of the strange sudden gusts of wind which tossed the trees, and +tore at the clouds as they hurried. She heard the footsteps again, +as if it feared its own sound the less when the wind might cover it. +A faint pale gleam showed between two dark clouds behind which the moon +had been hidden; it grew brighter, and a jagged rent was torn, so that +the moon herself for a second or so shone out dazzling bright before +the clouds rushed over her again and shut her in.</p> +<p>It was at this very instant Mistress Anne heard the footsteps once +more, and saw full well a figure in dark cloak and hat which stepped +quickly into the shade of a great tree. But more she saw—and +clapped her hand upon her mouth to stifle the cry that would have otherwise +risen in spite of her—that notwithstanding his fair locks were +thrust out of sight beneath his hat, and he looked strange and almost +uncomely, it was the face of Sir John Oxon, the moon, bursting through +the jagged clouds, had shone upon.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII—Two meet in the deserted rose garden, and the +old Earl of Dunstanwolde is made a happy man</h2> +<p>It was not until three days later, instead of two, that Sir John +Oxon rode into the courtyard with his servant behind him. He had +been detained on his journey, but looked as if his impatience had not +caused him to suffer, for he wore his finest air of spirit and beauty, +and when he was alone with Sir Jeoffry, made his compliments to the +absent ladies, and inquired of their health with his best town grace.</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda did not appear until the dining hour, when she +swept into the room like a queen, followed by her sister, Anne, and +Mistress Wimpole, this being the first occasion of Mistress Anne’s +dining, as it were, in state with her family.</p> +<p>The honour had so alarmed her, that she looked pale, and so ugly +that Sir Jeoffry scowled at sight of her, and swore under his breath +to Clorinda that she should have been allowed to come.</p> +<p>“I know my own affairs the best, by your leave, sir,” +answered Clorinda, as low and with a grand flash of her eye. “She +hath been drilled well.”</p> +<p>This she had indeed, and so had Mistress Wimpole, and throughout +Sir John Oxon’s stay they were called upon to see that they played +well their parts. Two weeks he stayed and then rode gaily back +to town, and when Clorinda made her sweeping curtsey to the ground to +him upon the threshold of the flowered room in which he bade her farewell, +both Anne and Mistress Wimpole curtseyed a step behind her.</p> +<p>“Now that he has gone and you have shown me that you can attend +me as I wish,” she said, turning to them as the sound of his horse’s +hoofs died away, “it will not trouble me should he choose some +day to come again. He has not carried with him much that he can +boast of.”</p> +<p>In truth, it seemed to the outer world that she had held him well +in hand. If he had come as a sighing lover, the whole county knew +she had shown him but small favour. She had invited companies +to the house on several occasions, and all could see how she bore herself +towards him. She carried herself with a certain proud courtesy +as becoming the daughter of his host, but her wit did not spare him, +and sometimes when it was more than in common cutting he was seen to +wince though he held himself gallantly. There were one or two +who thought they now and then had seen his blue eyes fall upon her when +he believed none were looking, and rest there burningly for a moment, +but ’twas never for more than an instant, when he would rouse +himself with a start and turn away.</p> +<p>She had been for a month or two less given to passionate outbreaks, +having indeed decided that it was to her interest as a young lady and +a future great one to curb herself. Her tirewoman, Rebecca, had +begun to dare to breathe more freely when she was engaged about her +person, and had, in truth, spoken of her pleasanter fortune among her +fellows in the servants’ hall.</p> +<p>But a night or two after the visitor took his departure, she gave +way to such an outburst as even Rebecca had scarce ever beheld, being +roused to it by a small thing in one sense, though in yet another perhaps +great enough, since it touched upon the despoiling of one of her beauties.</p> +<p>She was at her toilet-table being prepared for the night, and her +long hair brushed and dressed before retiring. Mistress Wimpole +had come in to the chamber to do something at her bidding, and chancing +to stand gazing at her great and heavy fall of locks as she was waiting, +she observed a thing which caused her, foolish woman that she was, to +give a start and utter an unwise exclamation.</p> +<p>“Madam!” she gasped—“madam!”</p> +<p>“What then!” quoth Mistress Clorinda angrily. “You +bring my heart to my throat!”</p> +<p>“Your hair!” stammered Wimpole, losing all her small +wit—“your beauteous hair! A lock is gone, madam!”</p> +<p>Clorinda started to her feet, and flung the great black mass over +her white shoulder, that she might see it in the glass.</p> +<p>“Gone!” she cried. “Where? How? +What mean you? Ah-h!”</p> +<p>Her voice rose to a sound that was well-nigh a scream. She +saw the rifled spot—a place where a great lock had been severed +jaggedly—and it must have been five feet long.</p> +<p>She turned and sprang upon her woman, her beautiful face distorted +with fury, and her eyes like flames of fire. She seized her by +each shoulder and boxed her ears until her head spun round and bells +rang within it.</p> +<p>“’Twas you!” she shrieked. “’Twas +you—she-devil-beast—slut that you are! ’Twas +when you used your scissors to the new head you made for me. You +set it on my hair that you might set a loop—and in your sluttish +way you snipped a lock by accident and hid it from me.”</p> +<p>She beat her till her own black hair flew about her like the mane +of a fury; and having used her hands till they were tired, she took +her brush from the table and beat her with that till the room echoed +with the blows on the stout shoulders.</p> +<p>“Mistress, ’twas not so!” cried the poor thing, +sobbing and struggling. “’Twas not so, madam!”</p> +<p>“Madam, you will kill the woman,” wept Mistress Wimpole. +“I beseech you—! ’Tis not seemly, I beseech—”</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda flung her woman from her and threw the brush at +Mistress Wimpole, crying at her with the lordly rage she had been wont +to shriek with when she wore breeches.</p> +<p>“Damnation to thy seemliness!” she cried, “and +to thee too! Get thee gone—from me, both—get thee +gone from my sight!”</p> +<p>And both women fled weeping, and sobbing, and gasping from the room +incontinently.</p> +<p>She was shrewish and sullen with her woman for days after, and it +was the poor creature’s labour to keep from her sight, when she +dressed her head, the place from whence the lock had been taken. +In the servants’ hall the woman vowed that it was not she who +had cut it, that she had had no accident, though it was true she had +used the scissors about her head, yet it was but in snipping a ribbon, +and she had not touched a hair.</p> +<p>“If she were another lady,” she said, “I should +swear some gallant had robbed her of it; but, forsooth, she does not +allow them to come near enough for such sport, and with five feet of +hair wound up in coronals, how could a man unwind a lock, even if ’twas +permitted him to stand at her very side.”</p> +<p>Two years passed, and the beauty had no greater fields to conquer +than those she found in the country, since her father, Sir Jeoffry, +had not the money to take her to town, he becoming more and more involved +and so fallen into debt that it was even whispered that at times it +went hard with him to keep even the poor household he had.</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda’s fortunes the gentry of the neighbourhood +discussed with growing interest and curiosity. What was like to +become of her great gifts and powers in the end, if she could never +show them to the great world, and have the chance to carry her splendid +wares to the fashionable market where there were men of quality and +wealth who would be like to bid for them. She had not chosen to +accept any of those who had offered themselves so far, and it was believed +that for some reason she had held off my lord of Dunstanwolde in his +suit. ’Twas evident that he admired her greatly, and why +he had not already made her his countess was a sort of mystery which +was productive of many discussions and bore much talking over. +Some said that, with all her beauty and his admiration, he was wary +and waited, and some were pleased to say that the reason he waited was +because the young lady herself contrived that he should, it being her +desire to make an open conquest of Sir John Oxon, and show him to the +world as her slave, before she made up her mind to make even a much +greater match. Some hinted that for all her disdainfulness and +haughty pride she would marry Sir John if he asked her, but that he +being as brilliant a beau as she a beauty, he was too fond of his pleasures +and his gay town life to give them up even to a goddess who had no fortune. +His own had not been a great one, and he had squandered it magnificently, +his extravagances being renowned in the world of fashion, and having +indeed founded for him his reputation.</p> +<p>It was, however, still his way to accept frequent hospitalities from +his kinsman Eldershawe, and Sir Jeoffry was always rejoiced enough to +secure him as his companion for a few days when he could lure him from +the dissipation of the town. At such times it never failed that +Mistress Wimpole and poor Anne kept their guard. Clorinda never +allowed them to relax their vigilance, and Mistress Wimpole ceased to +feel afraid, and became accustomed to her duties, but Anne never did +so. She looked always her palest and ugliest when Sir John was +in the house, and she would glance with sad wonder and timid adoration +from him to Clorinda; but sometimes when she looked at Sir John her +plain face would grow crimson, and once or twice he caught her at the +folly, and when she dropped her eyes overwhelmed with shame, he faintly +smiled to himself, seeing in her a new though humble conquest.</p> +<p>There came a day when in the hunting-field there passed from mouth +to mouth a rumour, and Sir Jeoffry, hearing it, came pounding over on +his big black horse to his daughter and told it to her in great spirits.</p> +<p>“He is a sly dog, John Oxon,” he said, a broad grin on +his rubicund face. “This very week he comes to us, and he +and I are cronies, yet he has blabbed nothing of what is being buzzed +about by all the world.”</p> +<p>“He has learned how to keep a closed mouth,” said Mistress +Clorinda, without asking a question.</p> +<p>“But ’tis marriage he is so mum about, bless ye!” +said Sir Jeoffry. “And that is not a thing to be hid long. +He is to be shortly married, they say. My lady, his mother, has +found him a great fortune in a new beauty but just come to town. +She hath great estates in the West Indies, as well as a fine fortune +in England—and all the world is besieging her; but Jack hath come +and bowed sighing before her, and writ some verses, and borne her off +from them all.”</p> +<p>“’Tis time,” said Clorinda, “that he should +marry some woman who can pay his debts and keep him out of the spunging +house, for to that he will come if he does not play his cards with skill.”</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry looked at her askance and rubbed his red chin.</p> +<p>“I wish thou hadst liked him, Clo,” he said, “and +ye had both had fortunes to match. I love the fellow, and ye would +have made a handsome pair.”</p> +<p>Mistress Clorinda laughed, sitting straight in her saddle, her fine +eyes unblenching, though the sun struck them.</p> +<p>“We had fortunes to match,” she said—“I was +a beggar and he was a spendthrift. Here comes Lord Dunstanwolde.”</p> +<p>And as the gentleman rode near, it seemed to his dazzled eyes that +the sun so shone down upon her because she was a goddess and drew it +from the heavens.</p> +<p>In the west wing of the Hall ’twas talked of between Mistress +Wimpole and her charges, that a rumour of Sir John Oxon’s marriage +was afloat.</p> +<p>“Yet can I not believe it,” said Mistress Margery; “for +if ever a gentleman was deep in love, though he bitterly strove to hide +it, ’twas Sir John, and with Mistress Clorinda.”</p> +<p>“But she,” faltered Anne, looking pale and even agitated—“she +was always disdainful to him and held him at arm’s length. +I—I wished she would have treated him more kindly.”</p> +<p>“’Tis not her way to treat men kindly,” said Mistress +Wimpole.</p> +<p>But whether the rumour was true or false—and there were those +who bestowed no credit upon it, and said it was mere town talk, and +that the same things had been bruited abroad before—it so chanced +that Sir John paid no visit to his relative or to Sir Jeoffry for several +months. ’Twas heard once that he had gone to France, and +at the French Court was making as great a figure as he had made at the +English one, but of this even his kinsman Lord Eldershawe could speak +no more certainly than he could of the first matter.</p> +<p>The suit of my Lord of Dunstanwolde—if suit it was—during +these months appeared to advance somewhat. All orders of surmises +were made concerning it—that Mistress Clorinda had privately quarrelled +with Sir John and sent him packing; that he had tired of his love-making, +as ’twas well known he had done many times before, and having +squandered his possessions and finding himself in open straits, must +needs patch up his fortunes in a hurry with the first heiress whose +estate suited him. But ’twas the women who said these things; +the men swore that no man could tire of or desert such spirit and beauty, +and that if Sir John Oxon stayed away ’twas because he had been +commanded to do so, it never having been Mistress Clorinda’s intention +to do more than play with him awhile, she having been witty against +him always for a fop, and meaning herself to accept no man as a husband +who could not give her both rank and wealth.</p> +<p>“We know her,” said the old boon companions of her childhood, +as they talked of her over their bottles. “She knew her +price and would bargain for it when she was not eight years old, and +would give us songs and kisses but when she was paid for them with sweet +things and knickknacks from the toy-shops. She will marry no man +who cannot make her at least a countess, and she would take him but +because there was not a duke at hand. We know her, and her beauty’s +ways.”</p> +<p>But they did not know her; none knew her, save herself.</p> +<p>In the west wing, which grew more bare and ill-furnished as things +wore out and time went by, Mistress Anne waxed thinner and paler. +She was so thin in two months’ time, that her soft, dull eyes +looked twice their natural size, and seemed to stare piteously at people. +One day, indeed, as she sat at work in her sister’s room, Clorinda +being there at the time, the beauty, turning and beholding her face +suddenly, uttered a violent exclamation.</p> +<p>“Why look you at me so?” she said. “Your +eyes stand out of your head like a new-hatched, unfeathered bird’s. +They irk me with their strange asking look. Why do you stare at +me?”</p> +<p>“I do not know,” Anne faltered. “I could +not tell you, sister. My eyes seem to stare so because of my thinness. +I have seen them in my mirror.”</p> +<p>“Why do you grow thin?” quoth Clorinda harshly. +“You are not ill.”</p> +<p>“I—I do not know,” again Anne faltered. “Naught +ails me. I do not know. For—forgive me!”</p> +<p>Clorinda laughed.</p> +<p>“Soft little fool,” she said, “why should you ask +me to forgive you? I might as fairly ask you to forgive <i>me</i>, +that I keep my shape and show no wasting.”</p> +<p>Anne rose from her chair and hurried to her sister’s side, +sinking upon her knees there to kiss her hand.</p> +<p>“Sister,” she said, “one could never dream that +you could need pardon. I love you so—that all you do, it +seems to me must be right—whatsoever it might be.”</p> +<p>Clorinda drew her fair hands away and clasped them on the top of +her head, proudly, as if she crowned herself thereby, her great and +splendid eyes setting themselves upon her sister’s face.</p> +<p>“All that I do,” she said slowly, and with the steadfast +high arrogance of an empress’ self—“All that I do +<i>is</i> right—for me. I make it so by doing it. +Do you think that I am conquered by the laws that other women crouch +and whine before, because they dare not break them, though they long +to do so? <i>I</i> am my own law—and the law of some others.”</p> +<p>It was by this time the first month of the summer, and to-night there +was again a birth-night ball, at which the beauty was to dazzle all +eyes; but ’twas of greater import than the one she had graced +previously, it being to celebrate the majority of the heir to an old +name and estate, who had been orphaned early, and was highly connected, +counting, indeed, among the members of his family the Duke of Osmonde, +who was one of the richest and most envied nobles in Great Britain, +his dukedom being of the oldest, his numerous estates the most splendid +and beautiful, and the long history of his family full of heroic deeds. +This nobleman was also a distant kinsman to the Earl of Dunstanwolde, +and at this ball, for the first time for months, Sir John Oxon appeared +again.</p> +<p>He did not arrive on the gay scene until an hour somewhat late. +But there was one who had seen him early, though no human soul had known +of the event.</p> +<p>In the rambling, ill-cared for grounds of Wildairs Hall there was +an old rose-garden, which had once been the pride and pleasure of some +lady of the house, though this had been long ago; and now it was but +a lonely wilderness where roses only grew because the dead Lady Wildairs +had loved them, and Barbara and Anne had tended them, and with their +own hands planted and pruned during their childhood and young maiden +days. But of late years even they had seemed to have forgotten +it, having become discouraged, perchance, having no gardeners to do +the rougher work, and the weeds and brambles so running riot. +There were high hedges and winding paths overgrown and run wild; the +stronger rose-bushes grew in tangled masses, flinging forth their rich +blooms among the weeds; such as were more delicate, struggling to live +among them, became more frail and scant-blossoming season by season; +a careless foot would have trodden them beneath it as their branches +grew long and trailed in the grass; but for many months no foot had +trodden there at all, and it was a beauteous place deserted.</p> +<p>In the centre was an ancient broken sun-dial, which was in these +days in the midst of a sort of thicket, where a bold tangle of the finest +red roses clambered, and, defying neglect, flaunted their rich colour +in the sun.</p> +<p>And though the place had been so long forgotten, and it was not the +custom for it to be visited, about this garlanded broken sun-dial the +grass was a little trodden, and on the morning of the young heir’s +coming of age some one stood there in the glowing sunlight as if waiting.</p> +<p>This was no less than Mistress Clorinda herself. She was clad +in a morning gown of white, which seemed to make of her more than ever +a tall, transcendent creature, less a woman than a conquering goddess; +and she had piled the dial with scarlet red roses, which she was choosing +to weave into a massive wreath or crown, for some purpose best known +to herself. Her head seemed haughtier and more splendidly held +on high even than was its common wont, but upon these roses her lustrous +eyes were downcast and were curiously smiling, as also was her ripe, +arching lip, whose scarlet the blossoms vied with but poorly. +It was a smile like this, perhaps, which Mistress Wimpole feared and +trembled before, for ’twas not a tender smile nor a melting one. +If she was waiting, she did not wait long, nor, to be sure, would she +have long waited if she had been kept by any daring laggard. This +was not her way.</p> +<p>’Twas not a laggard who came soon, stepping hurriedly with +light feet upon the grass, as though he feared the sound which might +be made if he had trodden upon the gravel. It was Sir John Oxon +who came towards her in his riding costume.</p> +<p>He came and stood before her on the other side of the dial, and made +her a bow so low that a quick eye might have thought ’twas almost +mocking. His feather, sweeping the ground, caught a fallen rose, +which clung to it. His beauty, when he stood upright, seemed to +defy the very morning’s self and all the morning world; but Mistress +Clorinda did not lift her eyes, but kept them upon her roses, and went +on weaving.</p> +<p>“Why did you choose to come?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Why did you choose to keep the tryst in answer to my message?” +he replied to her.</p> +<p>At this she lifted her great shining eyes and fixed them full upon +him.</p> +<p>“I wished,” she said, “to hear what you would say—but +more to <i>see</i> you than to hear.”</p> +<p>“And I,” he began—“I came—”</p> +<p>She held up her white hand with a long-stemmed rose in it—as +though a queen should lift a sceptre.</p> +<p>“You came,” she answered, “more to see <i>me</i> +than to hear. You made that blunder.”</p> +<p>“You choose to bear yourself like a goddess, and disdain me +from Olympian heights,” he said. “I had the wit to +guess it would be so.”</p> +<p>She shook her royal head, faintly and most strangely smiling.</p> +<p>“That you had not,” was her clear-worded answer. +“That is a later thought sprung up since you have seen my face. +’Twas quick—for you—but not quick enough.” +And the smile in her eyes was maddening. “You thought to +see a woman crushed and weeping, her beauty bent before you, her locks +dishevelled, her streaming eyes lifted to Heaven—and you—with +prayers, swearing that not Heaven could help her so much as your deigning +magnanimity. You have seen women do this before, you would have +seen <i>me</i> do it—at your feet—crying out that I was +lost—lost for ever. <i>That</i> you expected! ’Tis +not here.”</p> +<p>Debauched as his youth was, and free from all touch of heart or conscience—for +from his earliest boyhood he had been the pupil of rakes and fashionable +villains—well as he thought he knew all women and their ways, +betraying or betrayed—this creature taught him a new thing, a +new mood in woman, a new power which came upon him like a thunderbolt.</p> +<p>“Gods!” he exclaimed, catching his breath, and even falling +back apace, “Damnation! you are <i>not</i> a woman!”</p> +<p>She laughed again, weaving her roses, but not allowing that his eyes +should loose themselves from hers.</p> +<p>“But now, you called me a goddess and spoke of Olympian heights,” +she said; “I am not one—I am a woman who would show other +women how to bear themselves in hours like these. Because I am +a woman why should I kneel, and weep, and rave? What have I lost—in +losing you? I should have lost the same had I been twice your +wife. What is it women weep and beat their breasts for—because +they love a man—because they lose his love. They never have +them.”</p> +<p>She had finished the wreath, and held it up in the sun to look at +it. What a strange beauty was hers, as she held it so—a +heavy, sumptuous thing—in her white hands, her head thrown backward.</p> +<p>“You marry soon,” she asked—“if the match +is not broken?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he answered, watching her—a flame growing +in his eyes and in his soul in his own despite.</p> +<p>“It cannot be too soon,” she said. And she turned +and faced him, holding the wreath high in her two hands poised like +a crown above her head—the brilliant sun embracing her, her lips +curling, her face uplifted as if she turned to defy the light, the crimson +of her cheek. ’Twas as if from foot to brow the woman’s +whole person was a flame, rising and burning triumphant high above him. +Thus for one second’s space she stood, dazzling his very eyesight +with her strange, dauntless splendour; and then she set the great rose-wreath +upon her head, so crowning it.</p> +<p>“You came to see me,” she said, the spark in her eyes +growing to the size of a star; “I bid you look at me—and +see how grief has faded me these past months, and how I am bowed down +by it. Look well—that you may remember.”</p> +<p>“I look,” he said, almost panting.</p> +<p>“Then,” she said, her fine-cut nostril pinching itself +with her breath, as she pointed down the path before her—“<i>go</i>!—back +to your kennel!”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>That night she appeared at the birth-night ball with the wreath of +roses on her head. No other ladies wore such things, ’twas +a fashion of her own; but she wore it in such beauty and with such state +that it became a crown again even as it had been the first moment that +she had put it on. All gazed at her as she entered, and a murmur +followed her as she moved with her father up the broad oak staircase +which was known through all the country for its width and massive beauty. +In the hall below guests were crowded, and there were indeed few of +them who did not watch her as she mounted by Sir Jeoffry’s side. +In the upper hall there were guests also, some walking to and fro, some +standing talking, many looking down at the arrivals as they came up.</p> +<p>“’Tis Mistress Wildairs,” these murmured as they +saw her. “Clorinda, by God!” said one of the older +men to his crony who stood near him. “And crowned with roses! +The vixen makes them look as if they were built of rubies in every leaf.”</p> +<p>At the top of the great staircase there stood a gentleman, who had +indeed paused a moment, spellbound, as he saw her coming. He was +a man of unusual height and of a majestic mien; he wore a fair periwig, +which added to his tallness; his laces and embroiderings were marvels +of art and richness, and his breast blazed with orders. Strangely, +she did not seem to see him; but when she reached the landing, and her +face was turned so that he beheld the full blaze of its beauty, ’twas +so great a wonder and revelation to him that he gave a start. +The next moment almost, one of the red roses of her crown broke loose +from its fastenings and fell at his very feet. His countenance +changed so that it seemed almost, for a second, to lose some of its +colour. He stooped and picked the rose up and held it in his hand. +But Mistress Clorinda was looking at my Lord of Dunstanwolde, who was +moving through the crowd to greet her. She gave him a brilliant +smile, and from her lustrous eyes surely there passed something which +lit a fire of hope in his.</p> +<p>After she had made her obeisance to her entertainers, and her birthday +greetings to the young heir, he contrived to draw closely to her side +and speak a few words in a tone those near her could not hear.</p> +<p>“To-night, madam,” he said, with melting fervour, “you +deign to bring me my answer as you promised.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she murmured. “Take me where we may +be a few moments alone.”</p> +<p>He led her to an antechamber, where they were sheltered from the +gaze of the passers-by, though all was moving gaiety about them. +He fell upon his knee and bowed to kiss her fair hand. Despite +the sobriety of his years, he was as eager and tender as a boy.</p> +<p>“Be gracious to me, madam,” he implored. “I +am not young enough to wait. Too many months have been thrown +away.”</p> +<p>“You need wait no longer, my lord,” she said—“not +one single hour.”</p> +<p>And while he, poor gentleman, knelt, kissing her hand with adoring +humbleness, she, under the splendour of her crown of roses, gazed down +at his grey-sprinkled head with her great steady shining orbs, as if +gazing at some almost uncomprehended piteous wonder.</p> +<p>In less than an hour the whole assemblage knew of the event and talked +of it. Young men looked daggers at Dunstanwolde and at each other; +and older men wore glum or envious faces. Women told each other +’twas as they had known it would be, or ’twas a wonder that +at last it had come about. Upon the arm of her lord that was to +be, Mistress Clorinda passed from room to room like a royal bride.</p> +<p>As she made her first turn of the ballroom, all eyes upon her, her +beauty blazing at its highest, Sir John Oxon entered and stood at the +door. He wore his gallant air, and smiled as ever; and when she +drew near him he bowed low, and she stopped, and bent lower in a curtsey +sweeping the ground.</p> +<p>’Twas but in the next room her lord led her to a gentleman +who stood with a sort of court about him. It was the tall stranger, +with the fair periwig, and the orders glittering on his breast—the +one who had started at sight of her as she had reached the landing of +the stairs. He held still in his hand a broken red rose, and when +his eye fell on her crown the colour mounted to his cheek.</p> +<p>“My honoured kinsman, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde,” +said her affianced lord. “Your Grace—it is this lady +who is to do me the great honour of becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde.”</p> +<p>And as the deep, tawny brown eye of the man bending before her flashed +into her own, for the first time in her life Mistress Clorinda’s +lids fell, and as she swept her curtsey of stately obeisance her heart +struck like a hammer against her side.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX—“I give to him the thing he craves with all +his soul—myself”</h2> +<p>In a month she was the Countess of Dunstanwolde, and reigned in her +lord’s great town house with a retinue of servants, her powdered +lackeys among the tallest, her liveries and equipages the richest the +world of fashion knew. She was presented at the Court, blazing +with the Dunstanwolde jewels, and even with others her bridegroom had +bought in his passionate desire to heap upon her the magnificence which +became her so well. From the hour she knelt to kiss the hand of +royalty she set the town on fire. It seemed to have been ordained +by Fate that her passage through this world should be always the triumphant +passage of a conqueror. As when a baby she had ruled the servants’ +hall, the kennel, and the grooms’ quarters, later her father and +his boisterous friends, and from her fifteenth birthday the whole hunting +shire she lived in, so she held her sway in the great world, as did +no other lady of her rank or any higher. Those of her age seemed +but girls yet by her side, whether married or unmarried, and howsoever +trained to modish ways. She was but scarce eighteen at her marriage, +but she was no girl, nor did she look one, glowing as was the early +splendour of her bloom. Her height was far beyond the ordinary +for a woman; but her shape so faultless and her carriage so regal, that +though there were men upon whom she was tall enough to look down with +ease, the beholder but felt that her tallness was an added grace and +beauty with which all women should have been endowed, and which, as +they were not, caused them to appear but insignificant. What a +throat her diamonds blazed on, what shoulders and bosom her laces framed, +on what a brow her coronet sat and glittered. Her lord lived as +’twere upon his knees in enraptured adoration. Since his +first wife’s death in his youth, he had dwelt almost entirely +in the country at his house there, which was fine and stately, but had +been kept gloomily half closed for a decade. His town establishment +had, in truth, never been opened since his bereavement; and now—an +elderly man—he returned to the gay world he had almost forgotten, +with a bride whose youth and beauty set it aflame. What wonder +that his head almost reeled at times and that he lost his breath before +the sum of his strange late bliss, and the new lease of brilliant life +which seemed to have been given to him.</p> +<p>In the days when, while in the country, he had heard such rumours +of the lawless days of Sir Jeoffry Wildairs’ daughter, when he +had heard of her dauntless boldness, her shrewish temper, and her violent +passions, he had been awed at the thought of what a wife such a woman +would make for a gentleman accustomed to a quiet life, and he had indeed +striven hard to restrain the desperate admiration he was forced to admit +she had inspired in him even at her first ball.</p> +<p>The effort had, in sooth, been in vain, and he had passed many a +sleepless night; and when, as time went on, he beheld her again and +again, and saw with his own eyes, as well as heard from others, of the +great change which seemed to have taken place in her manners and character, +he began devoutly to thank Heaven for the alteration, as for a merciful +boon vouchsafed to him. He had been wise enough to know that even +a stronger man than himself could never conquer or rule her; and when +she seemed to begin to rule herself and bear herself as befitted her +birth and beauty, he had dared to allow himself to dream of what perchance +might be if he had great good fortune.</p> +<p>In these days of her union with him, he was, indeed, almost humbly +amazed at the grace and kindness she showed him every hour they passed +in each other’s company. He knew that there were men, younger +and handsomer than himself, who, being wedded to beauties far less triumphant +than she, found that their wives had but little time to spare them from +the world, which knelt at their feet, and that in some fashion they +themselves seemed to fall into the background. But ’twas +not so with this woman, powerful and worshipped though she might be. +She bore herself with the high dignity of her rank, but rendered to +him the gracious respect and deference due both to his position and +his merit. She stood by his side and not before him, and her smiles +and wit were bestowed upon him as generously as to others. If +she had once been a vixen, she was surely so no longer, for he never +heard a sharp or harsh word pass her lips, though it is true her manner +was always somewhat imperial, and her lacqueys and waiting women stood +in greatest awe of her. There was that in her presence and in +her eye before which all commoner or weaker creatures quailed. +The men of the world who flocked to pay their court to her, and the +popinjays who followed them, all knew this look, and a tone in her rich +voice which could cut like a knife when she chose that it should do +so. But to my Lord of Dunstanwolde she was all that a worshipped +lady could be.</p> +<p>“Your ladyship has made of me a happier man than I ever dared +to dream of being, even when I was but thirty,” he would say to +her, with reverent devotion. “I know not what I have done +to deserve this late summer which hath been given me.”</p> +<p>“When I consented to be your wife,” she answered once, +“I swore to myself that I would make one for you;” and she +crossed the hearth to where he sat—she was attired in all her +splendour for a Court ball, and starred with jewels—bent over +his chair and placed a kiss upon his grizzled hair.</p> +<p>Upon the night before her wedding with him, her sister, Mistress +Anne, had stolen to her chamber at a late hour. When she had knocked +upon the door, and had been commanded to enter, she had come in, and +closing the door behind her, had stood leaning against it, looking before +her, with her eyes wide with agitation and her poor face almost grey.</p> +<p>All the tapers for which places could be found had been gathered +together, and the room was a blaze of light. In the midst of it, +before her mirror, Clorinda stood attired in her bridal splendour of +white satin and flowing rich lace, a diamond crescent on her head, sparks +of light flaming from every point of her raiment. When she caught +sight of Anne’s reflection in the glass before her, she turned +and stood staring at her in wonder.</p> +<p>“What—nay, what is this?” she cried. “What +do you come for? On my soul, you come for something—or you +have gone mad.”</p> +<p>Anne started forward, trembling, her hands clasped upon her breast, +and fell at her feet with sobs.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” she gasped, “I came—for something—to +speak—to pray you—! Sister—Clorinda, have patience +with me—till my courage comes again!” and she clutched her +robe.</p> +<p>Something which came nigh to being a shudder passed through Mistress +Clorinda’s frame; but it was gone in a second, and she touched +Anne—though not ungently—with her foot, withdrawing her +robe.</p> +<p>“Do not stain it with your tears,” she said, “’twould +be a bad omen.”</p> +<p>Anne buried her face in her hands and knelt so before her.</p> +<p>“’Tis not too late!” she said—“’tis +not too late yet.”</p> +<p>“For what?” Clorinda asked. “For what, I +pray you tell me, if you can find your wits. You go beyond my +patience with your folly.”</p> +<p>“Too late to stop,” said Anne—“to draw back +and repent.”</p> +<p>“What?” commanded Clorinda—“what then should +I repent me?”</p> +<p>“This marriage,” trembled Mistress Anne, taking her poor +hands from her face to wring them. “It should not be.”</p> +<p>“Fool!” quoth Clorinda. “Get up and cease +your grovelling. Did you come to tell me it was not too late to +draw back and refuse to be the Countess of Dunstanwolde?” and +she laughed bitterly.</p> +<p>“But it should not be—it must not!” Anne panted. +“I—I know, sister, I know—”</p> +<p>Clorinda bent deliberately and laid her strong, jewelled hand on +her shoulder with a grasp like a vice. There was no hurry in her +movement or in her air, but by sheer, slow strength she forced her head +backward so that the terrified woman was staring in her face.</p> +<p>“Look at me,” she said. “I would see you +well, and be squarely looked at, that my eyes may keep you from going +mad. You have pondered over this marriage until you have a frenzy. +Women who live alone are sometimes so, and your brain was always weak. +What is it that you know. Look—in my eyes—and tell +me.”</p> +<p>It seemed as if her gaze stabbed through Anne’s eyes to the +very centre of her brain. Anne tried to bear it, and shrunk and +withered; she would have fallen upon the floor at her feet a helpless, +sobbing heap, but the white hand would not let her go.</p> +<p>“Find your courage—if you have lost it—and speak +plain words,” Clorinda commanded. Anne tried to writhe away, +but could not again, and burst into passionate, hopeless weeping.</p> +<p>“I cannot—I dare not!” she gasped. “I +am afraid. You are right; my brain is weak, and I—but that—that +gentleman—who so loved you—”</p> +<p>“Which?” said Clorinda, with a brief scornful laugh.</p> +<p>“The one who was so handsome—with the fair locks and +the gallant air—”</p> +<p>“The one you fell in love with and stared at through the window,” +said Clorinda, with her brief laugh again. “John Oxon! +He has victims enough, forsooth, to have spared such an one as you are.”</p> +<p>“But he loved you!” cried Anne piteously, “and +it must have been that you—you too, sister—or—or else—” +She choked again with sobs, and Clorinda released her grasp upon her +shoulder and stood upright.</p> +<p>“He wants none of me—nor I of him,” she said, with +strange sternness. “We have done with one another. +Get up upon your feet if you would not have me thrust you out into the +corridor.”</p> +<p>She turned from her, and walking back to her dressing-table, stood +there steadying the diadem on her hair, which had loosed a fastening +when Anne tried to writhe away from her. Anne half sat, half knelt +upon the floor, staring at her with wet, wild eyes of misery and fear.</p> +<p>“Leave your kneeling,” commanded her sister again, “and +come here.”</p> +<p>Anne staggered to her feet and obeyed her behest. In the glass +she could see the resplendent reflection; but Clorinda did not deign +to turn towards her while she addressed her, changing the while the +brilliants in her hair.</p> +<p>“Hark you, sister Anne,” she said. “I read +you better than you think. You are a poor thing, but you love +me and—in my fashion—I think I love you somewhat too. +You think I should not marry a gentleman whom you fancy I do not love +as I might a younger, handsomer man. You are full of love, and +spinster dreams of it which make you flighty. I love my Lord of +Dunstanwolde as well as any other man, and better than some, for I do +not hate him. He has a fine estate, and is a gentleman—and +worships me. Since I have been promised to him, I own I have for +a moment seen another gentleman who <i>might</i>—but ’twas +but for a moment, and ’tis done with. ’Twas too late +then. If we had met two years agone ’twould not have been +so. My Lord Dunstanwolde gives to me wealth, and rank, and life +at Court. I give to him the thing he craves with all his soul—myself. +It is an honest bargain, and I shall bear my part of it with honesty. +I have no virtues—where should I have got them from, forsooth, +in a life like mine? I mean I have no women’s virtues; but +I have one that is sometimes—not always—a man’s. +’Tis that I am not a coward and a trickster, and keep my word +when ’tis given. You fear that I shall lead my lord a bitter +life of it. ’Twill not be so. He shall live smoothly, +and not suffer from me. What he has paid for he shall honestly +have. I will not cheat him as weaker women do their husbands; +for he pays—poor gentleman—he pays.”</p> +<p>And then, still looking at the glass, she pointed to the doorway +through which her sister had come, and in obedience to her gesture of +command, Mistress Anne stole silently away.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER X—“Yes—I have marked him”</h2> +<p>Through the brilliant, happy year succeeding to his marriage my Lord +of Dunstanwolde lived like a man who dreams a blissful dream and knows +it is one.</p> +<p>“I feel,” he said to his lady, “as if ’twere +too great rapture to last, and yet what end could come, unless you ceased +to be kind to me; and, in truth, I feel that you are too noble above +all other women to change, unless I were more unworthy than I could +ever be since you are mine.”</p> +<p>Both in the town and in the country, which last place heard many +things of his condition and estate through rumour, he was the man most +wondered at and envied of his time—envied because of his strange +happiness; wondered at because having, when long past youth, borne off +this arrogant beauty from all other aspirants she showed no arrogance +to him, and was as perfect a wife as could have been some woman without +gifts whom he had lifted from low estate and endowed with rank and fortune. +She seemed both to respect himself and her position as his lady and +spouse. Her manner of reigning in his household was among his +many delights the greatest. It was a great house, and an old one, +built long before by a Dunstanwolde whose lavish feasts and riotous +banquets had been the notable feature of his life. It was curiously +rambling in its structure. The rooms of entertainment were large +and splendid, the halls and staircases stately; below stairs there was +space for an army of servants to be disposed of; and its network of +cellars and wine-vaults was so beyond all need that more than one long +arched stone passage was shut up as being without use, and but letting +cold, damp air into corridors leading to the servants’ quarters. +It was, indeed, my Lady Dunstanwolde who had ordered the closing of +this part when it had been her pleasure to be shown her domain by her +housekeeper, the which had greatly awed and impressed her household +as signifying that, exalted lady as she was, her wit was practical as +well as brilliant, and that her eyes being open to her surroundings, +she meant not that her lacqueys should rob her and her scullions filch, +thinking that she was so high that she was ignorant of common things +and blind.</p> +<p>“You will be well housed and fed and paid your dues,” +she said to them; “but the first man or woman who does a task +ill or dishonestly will be turned from his place that hour. I +deal justice—not mercy.”</p> +<p>“Such a mistress they have never had before,” said my +lord when she related this to him. “Nay, they have never +dreamed of such a lady—one who can be at once so severe and so +kind. But there is none other such, my dearest one. They +will fear and worship you.”</p> +<p>She gave him one of her sweet, splendid smiles. It was the +sweetness she at rare times gave her splendid smile which was her marvellous +power.</p> +<p>“I would not be too grand a lady to be a good housewife,” +she said. “I may not order your dinners, my dear lord, or +sweep your corridors, but they shall know I rule your household and +would rule it well.”</p> +<p>“You are a goddess!” he cried, kneeling to her, enraptured. +“And you have given yourself to a poor mortal man, who can but +worship you.”</p> +<p>“You give me all I have,” she said, “and you love +me nobly, and I am grateful.”</p> +<p>Her assemblies were the most brilliant in the town, and the most +to be desired entrance to. Wits and beauties planned and intrigued +that they might be bidden to her house; beaux and fine ladies fell into +the spleen if she neglected them. Her lord’s kinsman the +Duke of Osmonde, who had been present when she first knelt to Royalty, +had scarce removed his eyes from her so long as he could gaze. +He went to Dunstanwolde afterwards and congratulated him with stately +courtesy upon his great good fortune and happiness, speaking almost +with fire of her beauty and majesty, and thanking his kinsman that through +him such perfections had been given to their name and house. From +that time, at all special assemblies given by his kinsman he was present, +the observed of all observers. He was a man of whom ’twas +said that he was the most magnificent gentleman in Europe; that there +was none to compare with him in the combination of gifts given both +by Nature and Fortune. His beauty both of feature and carriage +was of the greatest, his mind was of the highest, and his education +far beyond that of the age he lived in. It was not the fashion +of the day that men of his rank should devote themselves to the cultivation +of their intellects instead of to a life of pleasure; but this he had +done from his earliest youth, and now, in his perfect though early maturity, +he had no equal in polished knowledge and charm of bearing. He +was the patron of literature and art; men of genius were not kept waiting +in his antechamber, but were received by him with courtesy and honour. +At the Court ’twas well known there was no man who stood so near +the throne in favour, and that there was no union so exalted that he +might not have made his suit as rather that of a superior than an equal. +The Queen both loved and honoured him, and condescended to avow as much +with gracious frankness. She knew no other man, she deigned to +say, who was so worthy of honour and affection, and that he had not +married must be because there was no woman who could meet him on ground +that was equal. If there were no scandals about him—and +there were none—’twas not because he was cold of heart or +imagination. No man or woman could look into his deep eye and +not know that when love came to him ’twould be a burning passion, +and an evil fate if it went ill instead of happily.</p> +<p>“Being past his callow, youthful days, ’tis time he made +some woman a duchess,” Dunstanwolde said reflectively once to +his wife. “’Twould be more fitting that he should; +and it is his way to honour his house in all things, and bear himself +without fault as the head of it. Methinks it strange he makes +no move to do it.”</p> +<p>“No, ’tis not strange,” said my lady, looking under +her black-fringed lids at the glow of the fire, as though reflecting +also. “There is no strangeness in it.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” her lord asked.</p> +<p>“There is no mate for him,” she answered slowly. +“A man like him must mate as well as marry, or he will break his +heart with silent raging at the weakness of the thing he is tied to. +He is too strong and splendid for a common woman. If he married +one, ’twould be as if a lion had taken to himself for mate a jackal +or a sheep. Ah!” with a long drawn breath—“he +would go mad—mad with misery;” and her hands, which lay +upon her knee, wrung themselves hard together, though none could see +it.</p> +<p>“He should have a goddess, were they not so rare,” said +Dunstanwolde, gently smiling. “He should hold a bitter grudge +against me, that I, his unworthy kinsman, have been given the only one.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he should have a goddess,” said my lady slowly +again; “and there are but women, naught but women.”</p> +<p>“You have marked him well,” said her lord, admiring her +wisdom. “Methinks that you—though you have spoken +to him but little, and have but of late become his kinswoman—have +marked and read him better than the rest of us.”</p> +<p>“Yes—I have marked him,” was her answer.</p> +<p>“He is a man to mark, and I have a keen eye.” She +rose up as she spoke, and stood before the fire, lifted by some strong +feeling to her fullest height, and towering there, splendid in the shadow—for +’twas by twilight they talked. “He is a Man,” +she said—“he is a Man! Nay, he is as God meant man +should be. And if men were so, there would be women great enough +for them to mate with and to give the world men like them.” +And but that she stood in the shadow, her lord would have seen the crimson +torrent rush up her cheek and brow, and overspread her long round throat +itself.</p> +<p>If none other had known of it, there was one man who knew that she +had marked him, though she had borne herself towards him always with +her stateliest grace. This man was his Grace the Duke himself. +From the hour that he had stood transfixed as he watched her come up +the broad oak stair, from the moment that the red rose fell from her +wreath at his feet, and he had stooped to lift it in his hand, he had +seen her as no other man had seen her, and he had known that had he +not come but just too late, she would have been his own. Each +time he had beheld her since that night he had felt this burn more deeply +in his soul. He was too high and fine in all his thoughts to say +to himself that in her he saw for the first time the woman who was his +peer; but this was very truth—or might have been, if Fate had +set her youth elsewhere, and a lady who was noble and her own mother +had trained and guarded her. When he saw her at the Court surrounded, +as she ever was, by a court of her own; when he saw her reigning in +her lord’s house, receiving and doing gracious honour to his guests +and hers; when she passed him in her coach, drawing every eye by the +majesty of her presence, as she drove through the town, he felt a deep +pang, which was all the greater that his honour bade him conquer it. +He had no ignoble thought of her, he would have scorned to sully his +soul with any light passion; to him she was the woman who might have +been his beloved wife and duchess, who would have upheld with him the +honour and traditions of his house, whose strength and power and beauty +would have been handed down to his children, who so would have been +born endowed with gifts befitting the state to which Heaven had called +them. It was of this he thought when he saw her, and of naught +less like to do her honour. And as he had marked her so, he saw +in her eyes, despite her dignity and grace, she had marked him. +He did not know how closely, or that she gave him the attention he could +not restrain himself from bestowing upon her. But when he bowed +before her, and she greeted him with all courtesy, he saw in her great, +splendid eye that had Fate willed it so, she would have understood all +his thoughts, shared all his ambitions, and aided him to uphold his +high ideals. Nay, he knew she understood him even now, and was +stirred by what stirred him also, even though they met but rarely, and +when they encountered each other, spoke but as kinsman and kinswoman +who would show each other all gracious respect and honour. It +was because of this pang which struck his great heart at times that +he was not a frequent visitor at my Lord Dunstanwolde’s mansion, +but appeared there only at such assemblies as were matters of ceremony, +his absence from which would have been a noted thing. His kinsman +was fond of him, and though himself of so much riper age, honoured him +greatly. At times he strove to lure him into visits of greater +familiarity; but though his kindness was never met coldly or repulsed, +a further intimacy was in some gracious way avoided.</p> +<p>“My lady must beguile you to be less formal with us,” +said Dunstanwolde. And later her ladyship spoke as her husband +had privately desired: “My lord would be made greatly happy if +your Grace would honour our house oftener,” she said one night, +when at the end of a great ball he was bidding her adieu.</p> +<p>Osmonde’s deep eye met hers gently and held it. “My +Lord Dunstanwolde is always gracious and warm of heart to his kinsman,” +he replied. “Do not let him think me discourteous or ungrateful. +In truth, your ladyship, I am neither the one nor the other.”</p> +<p>The eyes of each gazed into the other’s steadfastly and gravely. +The Duke of Osmonde thought of Juno’s as he looked at hers; they +were of such velvet, and held such fathomless deeps.</p> +<p>“Your Grace is not so free as lesser men,” Clorinda said. +“You cannot come and go as you would.”</p> +<p>“No,” he answered gravely, “I cannot, as I would.”</p> +<p>And this was all.</p> +<p>It having been known by all the world that, despite her beauty and +her conquests, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had not smiled with great +favour upon Sir John Oxon in the country, it was not wondered at or +made any matter of gossip that the Countess of Dunstanwolde was but +little familiar with him and saw him but rarely at her house in town.</p> +<p>Once or twice he had appeared there, it is true, at my Lord Dunstanwolde’s +instance, but my lady herself scarce seemed to see him after her first +courtesies as hostess were over.</p> +<p>“You never smiled on him, my love,” Dunstanwolde said +to his wife. “You bore yourself towards him but cavalierly, +as was your ladyship’s way—with all but one poor servant,” +tenderly; “but he was one of the many who followed in your train, +and if these gay young fellows stay away, ’twill be said that +I keep them at a distance because I am afraid of their youth and gallantry. +I would not have it fancied that I was so ungrateful as to presume upon +your goodness and not leave to you your freedom.”</p> +<p>“Nor would I, my lord,” she answered. “But +he will not come often; I do not love him well enough.”</p> +<p>His marriage with the heiress who had wealth in the West Indies was +broken off, or rather ’twas said had come to naught. All +the town knew it, and wondered, and talked, because it had been believed +at first that the young lady was much enamoured of him, and that he +would soon lead her to the altar, the which his creditors had greatly +rejoiced over as promising them some hope that her fortune would pay +their bills of which they had been in despair. Later, however, +gossip said that the heiress had not been so tender as was thought; +that, indeed, she had been found to be in love with another man, and +that even had she not, she had heard such stories of Sir John as promised +but little nuptial happiness for any woman that took him to husband.</p> +<p>When my Lord Dunstanwolde brought his bride to town, and she soared +at once to splendid triumph and renown, inflaming every heart, and setting +every tongue at work, clamouring her praises, Sir John Oxon saw her +from afar in all the scenes of brilliant fashion she frequented and +reigned queen of. ’Twas from afar, it might be said, he +saw her only, though he was often near her, because she bore herself +as if she did not observe him, or as though he were a thing which did +not exist. The first time that she deigned to address him was +upon an occasion when she found herself standing so near him at an assembly +that in the crowd she brushed him with her robe. His blue eyes +were fixed burningly upon her, and as she brushed him he drew in a hard +breath, which she hearing, turned slowly and let her own eyes fall upon +his face.</p> +<p>“You did not marry,” she said.</p> +<p>“No, I did not marry,” he answered, in a low, bitter +voice. “’Twas your ladyship who did that.”</p> +<p>She faintly, slowly smiled.</p> +<p>“I should not have been like to do otherwise,” she said; +“’tis an honourable condition. I would advise you +to enter it.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI—Wherein a noble life comes to an end</h2> +<p>When the earl and his countess went to their house in the country, +there fell to Mistress Anne a great and curious piece of good fortune. +In her wildest dreams she had never dared to hope that such a thing +might be.</p> +<p>My Lady Dunstanwolde, on her first visit home, bore her sister back +with her to the manor, and there established her. She gave her +a suite of rooms and a waiting woman of her own, and even provided her +with a suitable wardrobe. This last she had chosen herself with +a taste and fitness which only such wit as her own could have devised.</p> +<p>“They are not great rooms I give thee, Anne,” she said, +“but quiet and small ones, which you can make home-like in such +ways as I know your taste lies. My lord has aided me to choose +romances for your shelves, he knowing more of books than I do. +And I shall not dress thee out like a peacock with gay colours and great +farthingales. They would frighten thee, poor woman, and be a burden +with their weight. I have chosen such things as are not too splendid, +but will suit thy pale face and shot partridge eyes.”</p> +<p>Anne stood in the middle of her room and looked about at its comforts, +wondering.</p> +<p>“Sister,” she said, “why are you so good to me? +What have I done to serve you? Why is it Anne instead of Barbara +you are so gracious to?”</p> +<p>“Perchance because I am a vain woman and would be worshipped +as you worship me.”</p> +<p>“But you are always worshipped,” Anne faltered.</p> +<p>“Ay, by men!” said Clorinda, mocking; “but not +by women. And it may be that my pride is so high that I must be +worshipped by a woman too. You would always love me, sister Anne. +If you saw me break the law—if you saw me stab the man I hated +to the heart, you would think it must be pardoned to me.”</p> +<p>She laughed, and yet her voice was such that Anne lost her breath +and caught at it again.</p> +<p>“Ay, I should love you, sister!” she cried. “Even +then I could not but love you. I should know you could not strike +so an innocent creature, and that to be so hated he must have been worthy +of hate. You—are not like other women, sister Clorinda; +but you could not be base—for you have a great heart.”</p> +<p>Clorinda put her hand to her side and laughed again, but with less +mocking in her laughter.</p> +<p>“What do you know of my heart, Anne?” she said. +“Till late I did not know it beat, myself. My lord says +’tis a great one and noble, but I know ’tis his own that +is so. Have I done honestly by him, Anne, as I told you I would? +Have I been fair in my bargain—as fair as an honest man, and not +a puling, slippery woman?”</p> +<p>“You have been a great lady,” Anne answered, her great +dull, soft eyes filling with slow tears as she gazed at her. “He +says that you have given to him a year of Heaven, and that you seem +to him like some archangel—for the lower angels seem not high +enough to set beside you.”</p> +<p>“’Tis as I said—’tis his heart that is noble,” +said Clorinda. “But I vowed it should be so. He paid—he +paid!”</p> +<p>The country saw her lord’s happiness as the town had done, +and wondered at it no less. The manor was thrown open, and guests +came down from town; great dinners and balls being given, at which all +the country saw the mistress reign at her consort’s side with +such a grace as no lady ever had worn before. Sir Jeoffry, appearing +at these assemblies, was so amazed that he forgot to muddle himself +with drink, in gazing at his daughter and following her in all her movements.</p> +<p>“Look at her!” he said to his old boon companions and +hers, who were as much awed as he. “Lord! who would think +she was the strapping, handsome shrew that swore, and sang men’s +songs to us, and rode to the hunt in breeches.”</p> +<p>He was awed at the thought of paying fatherly visits to her house, +and would have kept away, but that she was kind to him in the way he +was best able to understand.</p> +<p>“I am country-bred, and have not the manners of your town men, +my lady,” he said to her, as he sat with her alone on one of the +first mornings he spent with her in her private apartment. “I +am used to rap out an oath or an ill-mannered word when it comes to +me. Dunstanwolde has weaned you of hearing such things—and +I am too old a dog to change.”</p> +<p>“Wouldst have thought I was too old to change,” answered +she, “but I was not. Did I not tell thee I would be a great +lady? There is naught a man or woman cannot learn who hath the +wit.”</p> +<p>“Thou hadst it, Clo,” said Sir Jeoffry, gazing at her +with a sort of slow wonder. “Thou hadst it. If thou +hadst not—!” He paused, and shook his head, and there +was a rough emotion in his coarse face. “I was not the man +to have made aught but a baggage of thee, Clo. I taught thee naught +decent, and thou never heard or saw aught to teach thee. Damn +me!” almost with moisture in his eyes, “if I know what kept +thee from going to ruin before thou wert fifteen.”</p> +<p>She sat and watched him steadily.</p> +<p>“Nor I,” quoth she, in answer. “Nor I—but +here thou seest me, Dad—an earl’s lady, sitting before thee.”</p> +<p>“’Twas thy wit,” said he, still moved, and fairly +maudlin. “’Twas thy wit and thy devil’s will!”</p> +<p>“Ay,” she answered, “’twas they—my +wit and my devil’s will!”</p> +<p>She rode to the hunt with him as she had been wont to do, but she +wore the latest fashion in hunting habit and coat; and though ’twould +not have been possible for her to sit her horse better than of old, +or to take hedges and ditches with greater daring and spirit, yet in +some way every man who rode with her felt that ’twas a great lady +who led the field. The horse she rode was a fierce, beauteous +devil of a beast which Sir Jeoffry himself would scarce have mounted +even in his younger days; but she carried her loaded whip, and she sat +upon the brute as if she scarcely felt its temper, and held it with +a wrist of steel.</p> +<p>My Lord Dunstanwolde did not hunt this season. He had never +been greatly fond of the sport, and at this time was a little ailing, +but he would not let his lady give up her pleasure because he could +not join it.</p> +<p>“Nay,” he said, “’tis not for the queen of +the hunting-field to stay at home to nurse an old man’s aches. +My pride would not let it be so. Your father will attend you. +Go—and lead them all, my dear.”</p> +<p>In the field appeared Sir John Oxon, who for a brief visit was at +Eldershawe. He rode close to my lady, though she had naught to +say to him after her first greetings of civility. He looked not +as fresh and glowing with youth as had been his wont only a year ago. +His reckless wildness of life and his town debaucheries had at last +touched his bloom, perhaps. He had a haggard look at moments when +his countenance was not lighted by excitement. ’Twas whispered +that he was deep enough in debt to be greatly straitened, and that his +marriage having come to naught his creditors were besetting him without +mercy. This and more than this, no one knew so well as my Lady +Dunstanwolde; but of a certainty she had little pity for his evil case, +if one might judge by her face, when in the course of the running he +took a hedge behind her, and pressing his horse, came up by her side +and spoke.</p> +<p>“Clorinda,” he began breathlessly, through set teeth.</p> +<p>She could have left him and not answered, but she chose to restrain +the pace of her wild beast for a moment and look at him.</p> +<p>“‘Your ladyship!’” she corrected his audacity. +“Or—‘my Lady Dunstanwolde.’”</p> +<p>“There was a time”—he said.</p> +<p>“This morning,” she said, “I found a letter in +a casket in my closet. I do not know the mad villain who wrote +it. I never knew him.”</p> +<p>“You did not,” he cried, with an oath, and then laughed +scornfully.</p> +<p>“The letter lies in ashes on the hearth,” she said. +“’Twas burned unopened. Do not ride so close, Sir +John, and do not play the madman and the beast with the wife of my Lord +Dunstanwolde.”</p> +<p>“‘The wife!’” he answered. “‘My +lord!’ ’Tis a new game this, and well played, by God!”</p> +<p>She did not so much as waver in her look, and her wide eyes smiled.</p> +<p>“Quite new,” she answered him—“quite new. +And could I not have played it well and fairly, I would not have touched +the cards. Keep your horse off, Sir John. Mine is restive, +and likes not another beast near him;” and she touched the creature +with her whip, and he was gone like a thunderbolt.</p> +<p>The next day, being in her room, Anne saw her come from her dressing-table +with a sealed letter in her hand. She went to the bell and rang +it.</p> +<p>“Anne,” she said, “I am going to rate my woman +and turn her from my service. I shall not beat or swear at her +as I was wont to do with my women in time past. You will be afraid, +perhaps; but you must stay with me.”</p> +<p>She was standing by the fire with the letter held almost at arm’s +length in her finger-tips, when the woman entered, who, seeing her face, +turned pale, and casting her eyes upon the letter, paler still, and +began to shake.</p> +<p>“You have attended mistresses of other ways than mine,” +her lady said in her slow, clear voice, which seemed to cut as knives +do. “Some fool and madman has bribed you to serve him. +You cannot serve me also. Come hither and put this in the fire. +If ’twere to be done I would make you hold it in the live coals +with your hand.”</p> +<p>The woman came shuddering, looking as if she thought she might be +struck dead. She took the letter and kneeled, ashen pale, to burn +it. When ’twas done, her mistress pointed to the door.</p> +<p>“Go and gather your goods and chattels together, and leave +within this hour,” she said. “I will be my own tirewoman +till I can find one who comes to me honest.”</p> +<p>When she was gone, Anne sat gazing at the ashes on the hearth. +She was pale also.</p> +<p>“Sister,” she said, “do you—”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered my lady. “’Tis a man +who loved me, a cur and a knave. He thought for an hour he was +cured of his passion. I could have told him ’twould spring +up and burn more fierce than ever when he saw another man possess me. +’Tis so with knaves and curs; and ’tis so with him. +He hath gone mad again.”</p> +<p>“Ay, mad!” cried Anne—“mad, and base, and +wicked!”</p> +<p>Clorinda gazed at the ashes, her lips curling.</p> +<p>“He was ever base,” she said—“as he was at +first, so he is now. ’Tis thy favourite, Anne,” lightly, +and she delicately spurned the blackened tinder with her foot—“thy +favourite, John Oxon.”</p> +<p>Mistress Anne crouched in her seat and hid her face in her thin hands.</p> +<p>“Oh, my lady!” she cried, not feeling that she could +say “sister,” “if he be base, and ever was so, pity +him, pity him! The base need pity more than all.”</p> +<p>For she had loved him madly, all unknowing her own passion, not presuming +even to look up in his beautiful face, thinking of him only as the slave +of her sister, and in dead secrecy knowing strange things—strange +things! And when she had seen the letter she had known the handwriting, +and the beating of her simple heart had well-nigh strangled her—for +she had seen words writ by him before.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>When Dunstanwolde and his lady went back to their house in town, +Mistress Anne went with them. Clorinda willed that it should be +so. She made her there as peaceful and retired a nest of her own +as she had given to her at Dunstanwolde. By strange good fortune +Barbara had been wedded to a plain gentleman, who, being a widower with +children, needed a help-meet in his modest household, and through a +distant relationship to Mistress Wimpole, encountered her charge, and +saw in her meekness of spirit the thing which might fall into the supplying +of his needs. A beauty or a fine lady would not have suited him; +he wanted but a housewife and a mother for his orphaned children, and +this, a young woman who had lived straitly, and been forced to many +contrivances for mere decency of apparel and ordinary comfort, might +be trained to become.</p> +<p>So it fell that Mistress Anne could go to London without pangs of +conscience at leaving her sister in the country and alone. The +stateliness of the town mansion, my Lady Dunstanwolde’s retinue +of lacqueys and serving-women, her little black page, who waited on +her and took her pug dogs to walk, her wardrobe, and jewels, and equipages, +were each and all marvels to her, but seemed to her mind so far befitting +that she remembered, wondering, the days when she had darned the tattered +tapestry in her chamber, and changed the ribbands and fashions of her +gowns. Being now attired fittingly, though soberly as became her, +she was not in these days—at least, as far as outward seeming +went—an awkward blot upon the scene when she appeared among her +sister’s company; but at heart she was as timid and shrinking +as ever, and never mingled with the guests in the great rooms when she +could avoid so doing. Once or twice she went forth with Clorinda +in her coach and six, and saw the glittering world, while she drew back +into her corner of the equipage and gazed with all a country-bred woman’s +timorous admiration.</p> +<p>“’Twas grand and like a beautiful show!” she said, +when she came home the first time. “But do not take me often, +sister; I am too plain and shy, and feel that I am naught in it.”</p> +<p>But though she kept as much apart from the great World of Fashion +as she could, she contrived to know of all her sister’s triumphs; +to see her when she went forth in her bravery, though ’twere but +to drive in the Mall; to be in her closet with her on great nights when +her tirewomen were decking her in brocades and jewels, that she might +show her highest beauty at some assembly or ball of State. And +at all these times, as also at all others, she knew that she but shared +her own love and dazzled admiration with my Lord Dunstanwolde, whose +tenderness, being so fed by his lady’s unfailing graciousness +of bearing and kindly looks and words, grew with every hour that passed.</p> +<p>They held one night a splendid assembly at which a member of the +Royal House was present. That night Clorinda bade her sister appear.</p> +<p>“Sometimes—I do not command it always—but sometimes +you must show yourself to our guests. My lord will not be pleased +else. He says it is not fitting that his wife’s sister should +remain unseen as if we hid her away through ungraciousness. Your +woman will prepare for you all things needful. I myself will see +that your dress becomes you. I have commanded it already, and +given much thought to its shape and colour. I would have you very +comely, Anne.” And she kissed her lightly on her cheek—almost +as gently as she sometimes kissed her lord’s grey hair. +In truth, though she was still a proud lady and stately in her ways, +there had come upon her some strange subtle change Anne could not understand.</p> +<p>On the day on which the assembly was held, Mistress Anne’s +woman brought to her a beautiful robe. ’Twas flowered satin +of the sheen and softness of a dove’s breast, and the lace adorning +it was like a spider’s web for gossamer fineness. The robe +was sweetly fashioned, fitting her shape wondrously; and when she was +attired in it at night a little colour came into her cheeks to see herself +so far beyond all comeliness she had ever known before. When she +found herself in the midst of the dazzling scene in the rooms of entertainment, +she was glad when at last she could feel herself lost among the crowd +of guests. Her only pleasure in such scenes was to withdraw to +some hidden corner and look on as at a pageant or a play. To-night +she placed herself in the shadow of a screen, from which retreat she +could see Clorinda and Dunstanwolde as they received their guests. +Thus she found enjoyment enough; for, in truth, her love and almost +abject passion of adoration for her sister had grown as his lordship’s +had, with every hour. For a season there had rested upon her a +black shadow beneath which she wept and trembled, bewildered and lost; +though even at its darkest the object of her humble love had been a +star whose brightness was not dimmed, because it could not be so whatsoever +passed before it. This cloud, however, being it seemed dispelled, +the star had shone but more brilliant in its high place, and she the +more passionately worshipped it. To sit apart and see her idol’s +radiance, to mark her as she reigned and seemed the more royal when +she bent the knee to royalty itself, to see the shimmer of her jewels +crowning her midnight hair and crashing the warm whiteness of her noble +neck, to observe the admiration in all eyes as they dwelt upon her—this +was, indeed, enough of happiness.</p> +<p>“She is, as ever,” she murmured, “not so much a +woman as a proud lovely goddess who has deigned to descend to earth. +But my lord does not look like himself. He seems shrunk in the +face and old, and his eyes have rings about them. I like not that. +He is so kind a gentleman and so happy that his body should not fail +him. I have marked that he has looked colourless for days, and +Clorinda questioned him kindly on it, but he said he suffered naught.”</p> +<p>’Twas but a little later than she had thought this, that she +remarked a gentleman step aside and stand quite near without observing +her. Feeling that she had no testimony to her fancifulness, she +found herself thinking in a vague fashion that he, too, had come there +because he chose to be unobserved. ’Twould not have been +so easy for him to retire as it had been for her smallness and insignificance +to do so; and, indeed, she did not fancy that he meant to conceal himself, +but merely to stand for a quiet moment a little apart from the crowd.</p> +<p>And as she looked up at him, wondering why this should be, she saw +he was the noblest and most stately gentleman she had ever beheld.</p> +<p>She had never seen him before; he must either be a stranger or a +rare visitor. As Clorinda was beyond a woman’s height, he +was beyond a man’s.</p> +<p>He carried himself as kingly as she did nobly; he had a countenance +of strong, manly beauty, and a deep tawny eye, thick-fringed and full +of fire; orders glittered upon his breast, and he wore a fair periwig, +which became him wondrously, and seemed to make his eye more deep and +burning by its contrast.</p> +<p>Beside his strength and majesty of bearing the stripling beauty of +John Oxon would have seemed slight and paltry, a thing for flippant +women to trifle with.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne looked at him with an admiration somewhat like reverence, +and as she did so a sudden thought rose to her mind, and even as it +rose, she marked what his gaze rested on, and how it dwelt upon it, +and knew that he had stepped apart to stand and gaze as she did—only +with a man’s hid fervour—at her sister’s self.</p> +<p>’Twas as if suddenly a strange secret had been told her. +She read it in his face, because he thought himself unobserved, and +for a space had cast his mask aside. He stood and gazed as a man +who, starving at soul, fed himself through his eyes, having no hope +of other sustenance, or as a man weary with long carrying of a burden, +for a space laid it down for rest and to gather power to go on. +She heard him draw a deep sigh almost stifled in its birth, and there +was that in his face which she felt it was unseemly that a stranger +like herself should behold, himself unknowing of her near presence.</p> +<p>She gently rose from her corner, wondering if she could retire from +her retreat without attracting his observation; but as she did so, chance +caused him to withdraw himself a little farther within the shadow of +the screen, and doing so, he beheld her.</p> +<p>Then his face changed; the mask of noble calmness, for a moment fallen, +resumed itself, and he bowed before her with the reverence of a courtly +gentleman, undisturbed by the unexpectedness of his recognition of her +neighbourhood.</p> +<p>“Madam,” he said, “pardon my unconsciousness that +you were near me. You would pass?” And he made way +for her.</p> +<p>She curtseyed, asking his pardon with her dull, soft eyes.</p> +<p>“Sir,” she answered, “I but retired here for a +moment’s rest from the throng and gaiety, to which I am unaccustomed. +But chiefly I sat in retirement that I might watch—my sister.”</p> +<p>“Your sister, madam?” he said, as if the questioning +echo were almost involuntary, and he bowed again in some apology.</p> +<p>“My Lady Dunstanwolde,” she replied. “I take +such pleasure in her loveliness and in all that pertains to her, it +is a happiness to me to but look on.”</p> +<p>Whatsoever the thing was in her loving mood which touched him and +found echo in his own, he was so far moved that he answered to her with +something less of ceremoniousness; remembering also, in truth, that +she was a lady he had heard of, and recalling her relationship and name.</p> +<p>“It is then Mistress Anne Wildairs I am honoured by having +speech with,” he said. “My Lady Dunstanwolde has spoken +of you in my presence. I am my lord’s kinsman the Duke of +Osmonde;” again bowing, and Anne curtseyed low once more.</p> +<p>Despite his greatness, she felt a kindness and grace in him which +was not condescension, and which almost dispelled the timidity which, +being part of her nature, so unduly beset her at all times when she +addressed or was addressed by a stranger. John Oxon, bowing his +bright curls, and seeming ever to mock with his smiles, had caused her +to be overcome with shy awkwardness and blushes; but this man, who seemed +as far above him in person and rank and mind as a god is above a graceful +painted puppet, even appeared to give of his own noble strength to her +poor weakness. He bore himself towards her with a courtly respect +such as no human being had ever shown to her before. He besought +her again to be seated in her nook, and stood before her conversing +with such delicate sympathy with her mood as seemed to raise her to +the pedestal on which stood less humble women. All those who passed +before them he knew and could speak easily of. The high deeds +of those who were statesmen, or men honoured at Court or in the field, +he was familiar with; and of those who were beauties or notable gentlewomen +he had always something courtly to say.</p> +<p>Her own worship of her sister she knew full well he understood, though +he spoke of her but little.</p> +<p>“Well may you gaze at her,” he said. “So +does all the world, and honours and adores.”</p> +<p>He proffered her at last his arm, and she, having strangely taken +courage, let him lead her through the rooms and persuade her to some +refreshment. Seeing her so wondrously emerge from her chrysalis, +and under the protection of so distinguished a companion, all looked +at her as she passed with curious amazement, and indeed Mistress Anne +was all but overpowered by the reverence shown them as they made their +way.</p> +<p>As they came again into the apartment wherein the host and hostess +received their guests, Anne felt her escort pause, and looked up at +him to see the meaning of his sudden hesitation. He was gazing +intently, not at Clorinda, but at the Earl of Dunstanwolde.</p> +<p>“Madam,” he said, “pardon me that I seem to detain +you, but—but I look at my kinsman. Madam,” with a +sudden fear in his voice, “he is ailing—he sways as he stands. +Let us go to him. Quickly! He falls!”</p> +<p>And, in sooth, at that very moment there arose a dismayed cry from +the guests about them, and there was a surging movement; and as they +pressed forward themselves through the throng, Anne saw Dunstanwolde +no more above the people, for he had indeed fallen and lay outstretched +and deathly on the floor.</p> +<p>’Twas but a few seconds before she and Osmonde were close enough +to him to mark his fallen face and ghastly pallor, and a strange dew +starting out upon his brow.</p> +<p>But ’twas his wife who knelt beside his prostrate body, waving +all else aside with a great majestic gesture of her arm.</p> +<p>“Back! back!” she cried. “Air! air! and water! +My lord! My dear lord!”</p> +<p>But he did not answer, or even stir, though she bent close to him +and thrust her hand within his breast. And then the frightened +guests beheld a strange but beautiful and loving thing, such as might +have moved any heart to tenderness and wonder. This great beauty, +this worshipped creature, put her arms beneath and about the helpless, +awful body—for so its pallor and stillness indeed made it—and +lifted it in their powerful whiteness as if it had been the body of +a child, and so bore it to a couch near and laid it down, kneeling beside +it.</p> +<p>Anne and Osmonde were beside her. Osmonde pale himself, but +gently calm and strong. He had despatched for a physician the +instant he saw the fall.</p> +<p>“My lady,” he said, bending over her, “permit me +to approach. I have some knowledge of these seizures. Your +pardon!”</p> +<p>He knelt also and took the moveless hand, feeling the pulse; he, +too, thrust his hand within the breast and held it there, looking at +the sunken face.</p> +<p>“My dear lord,” her ladyship was saying, as if to the +prostrate man’s ear alone, knowing that her tender voice must +reach him if aught would—as indeed was truth. “Edward! +My dear—dear lord!”</p> +<p>Osmonde held his hand steadily over the heart. The guests shrunk +back, stricken with terror.</p> +<p>There was that in this corner of the splendid room which turned faces +pale.</p> +<p>Osmonde slowly withdrew his hand, and turning to the kneeling woman—with +a pallor like that of marble, but with a noble tenderness and pity in +his eyes—</p> +<p>“My lady,” he said, “you are a brave woman. +Your great courage must sustain you. The heart beats no more. +A noble life is finished.”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>The guests heard, and drew still farther back, a woman or two faintly +whimpering; a hurrying lacquey parted the crowd, and so, way being made +for him, the physician came quickly forward.</p> +<p>Anne put her shaking hands up to cover her gaze. Osmonde stood +still, looking down. My Lady Dunstanwolde knelt by the couch and +hid her beautiful face upon the dead man’s breast.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII—Which treats of the obsequies of my Lord of Dunstanwolde, +of his lady’s widowhood, and of her return to town</h2> +<p>All that remained of my Lord Dunstanwolde was borne back to his ancestral +home, and there laid to rest in the ancient tomb in which his fathers +slept. Many came from town to pay him respect, and the Duke of +Osmonde was, as was but fitting, among them. The countess kept +her own apartments, and none but her sister, Mistress Anne, beheld her.</p> +<p>The night before the final ceremonies she spent sitting by her lord’s +coffin, and to Anne it seemed that her mood was a stranger one, than +ever woman had before been ruled by. She did not weep or moan, +and only once kneeled down. In her sweeping black robes she seemed +more a majestic creature than she had ever been, and her beauty more +that of a statue than of a mortal woman. She sent away all other +watchers, keeping only her sister with her, and Anne observed in her +a strange protecting gentleness when she spoke of the dead man.</p> +<p>“I do not know whether dead men can feel and hear,” she +said. “Sometimes there has come into my mind—and made +me shudder—the thought that, though they lie so still, mayhap +they know what we do—and how they are spoken of as nothings whom +live men and women but wait a moment to thrust away, that their own +living may go on again in its accustomed way, or perchance more merrily. +If my lord knows aught, he will be grateful that I watch by him to-night +in this solemn room. He was ever grateful, and moved by any tenderness +of mine.”</p> +<p>’Twas as she said, the room was solemn, and this almost to +awfulness. It was a huge cold chamber at best, and draped with +black, and hung with hatchments; a silent gloom filled it which made +it like a tomb. Tall wax-candles burned in it dimly, but adding +to its solemn shadows with their faint light; and in his rich coffin +the dead man lay in his shroud, his hands like carvings of yellowed +ivory clasped upon his breast.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne dared not have entered the place alone, and was so +overcome at sight of the pinched nostrils and sunk eyes that she turned +cold with fear. But Clorinda seemed to feel no dread or shrinking. +She went and stood beside the great funeral-draped bed of state on which +the coffin lay, and thus standing, looked down with a grave, protecting +pity in her face. Then she stooped and kissed the dead man long +upon the brow.</p> +<p>“I will sit by you to-night,” she said. “That +which lies here will be alone to-morrow. I will not leave you +this last night. Had I been in your place you would not leave +me.”</p> +<p>She sat down beside him and laid her strong warm hand upon his cold +waxen ones, closing it over them as if she would give them heat. +Anne knelt and prayed—that all might be forgiven, that sins might +be blotted out, that this kind poor soul might find love and peace in +the kingdom of Heaven, and might not learn there what might make bitter +the memory of his last year of rapture and love. She was so simple +that she forgot that no knowledge of the past could embitter aught when +a soul looked back from Paradise.</p> +<p>Throughout the watches of the night her sister sat and held the dead +man’s hand; she saw her more than once smooth his grey hair almost +as a mother might have touched a sick sleeping child’s; again +she kissed his forehead, speaking to him gently, as if to tell him he +need not fear, for she was close at hand; just once she knelt, and Anne +wondered if she prayed, and in what manner, knowing that prayer was +not her habit.</p> +<p>’Twas just before dawn she knelt so, and when she rose and +stood beside him, looking down again, she drew from the folds of her +robe a little package.</p> +<p>“Anne,” she said, as she untied the ribband that bound +it, “when first I was his wife I found him one day at his desk +looking at these things as they lay upon his hand. He thought +at first it would offend me to find him so; but I told him that I was +gentler than he thought—though not so gentle as the poor innocent +girl who died in giving him his child. ’Twas her picture +he was gazing at, and a little ring and two locks of hair—one +a brown ringlet from her head, and one—such a tiny wisp of down—from +the head of her infant. I told him to keep them always and look +at them often, remembering how innocent she had been, and that she had +died for him. There were tears on my hand when he kissed it in +thanking me. He kept the little package in his desk, and I have +brought it to him.”</p> +<p>The miniature was of a sweet-faced girl with large loving childish +eyes, and cheeks that blushed like the early morning. Clorinda +looked at her almost with tenderness.</p> +<p>“There is no marrying or giving in marriage, ’tis said,” +quoth she; “but were there, ’tis you who were his wife—not +I. I was but a lighter thing, though I bore his name and he honoured +me. When you and your child greet him he will forget me—and +all will be well.”</p> +<p>She held the miniature and the soft hair to his cold lips a moment, +and Anne saw with wonder that her own mouth worked. She slipped +the ring on his least finger, and hid the picture and the ringlets within +the palms of his folded hands.</p> +<p>“He was a good man,” she said; “he was the first +good man that I had ever known.” And she held out her hand +to Anne and drew her from the room with her, and two crystal tears fell +upon the bosom of her black robe and slipped away like jewels.</p> +<p>When the funeral obsequies were over, the next of kin who was heir +came to take possession of the estate which had fallen to him, and the +widow retired to her father’s house for seclusion from the world. +The town house had been left to her by her deceased lord, but she did +not wish to return to it until the period of her mourning was over and +she laid aside her weeds. The income the earl had been able to +bestow upon her made her a rich woman, and when she chose to appear +again in the world it would be with the power to mingle with it fittingly.</p> +<p>During her stay at her father’s house she did much to make +it a more suitable abode for her, ordering down from London furnishings +and workmen to set her own apartments and Anne’s in order. +But she would not occupy the rooms she had lived in heretofore. +For some reason it seemed to be her whim to have begun to have an enmity +for them. The first day she entered them with Anne she stopped +upon the threshold.</p> +<p>“I will not stay here,” she said. “I never +loved the rooms—and now I hate them. It seems to me it was +another woman who lived in them—in another world. ’Tis +so long ago that ’tis ghostly. Make ready the old red chambers +for me,” to her woman; “I will live there. They have +been long closed, and are worm-eaten and mouldy perchance; but a great +fire will warm them. And I will have furnishings from London to +make them fit for habitation.”</p> +<p>The next day it seemed for a brief space as if she would have changed +even from the red chambers.</p> +<p>“I did not know,” she said, turning with a sudden movement +from a side window, “that one might see the old rose garden from +here. I would not have taken the room had I guessed it. +It is too dreary a wilderness, with its tangle of briars and its broken +sun-dial.”</p> +<p>“You cannot see the dial from here,” said Anne, coming +towards her with a strange paleness and haste. “One cannot +see <i>within</i> the garden from any window, surely.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Clorinda; “’tis not near enough, +and the hedges are too high; but one knows ’tis there, and ’tis +tiresome.”</p> +<p>“Let us draw the curtains and not look, and forget it,” +said poor Anne. And she drew the draperies with a trembling hand; +and ever after while they dwelt in the room they stayed so.</p> +<p>My lady wore her mourning for more than a year, and in her sombre +trailing weeds was a wonder to behold. She lived in her father’s +house, and saw no company, but sat or walked and drove with her sister +Anne, and visited the poor. The perfect stateliness of her decorum +was more talked about than any levity would have been; those who were +wont to gossip expecting that having made her fine match and been so +soon rid of her lord, she would begin to show her strange wild breeding +again, and indulge in fantastical whims. That she should wear +her mourning with unflinching dignity and withdraw from the world as +strictly as if she had been a lady of royal blood mourning her prince, +was the unexpected thing, and so was talked of everywhere.</p> +<p>At the end of the eighteenth month she sent one day for Anne, who, +coming at her bidding, found her standing in her chamber surrounded +by black robes and draperies piled upon the bed, and chairs, and floor, +their sombreness darkening the room like a cloud; but she stood in their +midst in a trailing garment of pure white, and in her bosom was a bright +red rose tied with a knot of scarlet ribband, whose ends fell floating. +Her woman was upon her knees before a coffer in which she was laying +the weeds as she folded them.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne paused within the doorway, her eyes dazzled by the +tall radiant shape and blot of scarlet colour as if by the shining of +the sun. She knew in that moment that all was changed, and that +the world of darkness they had been living in for the past months was +swept from existence. When her sister had worn her mourning weeds +she had seemed somehow almost pale; but now she stood in the sunlight +with the rich scarlet on her cheek and lip, and the stars in her great +eyes.</p> +<p>“Come in, sister Anne,” she said. “I lay +aside my weeds, and my woman is folding them away for me. Dost +know of any poor creature newly left a widow whom some of them would +be a help to? ’Tis a pity that so much sombreness should +lie in chests when there are perhaps poor souls to whom it would be +a godsend.”</p> +<p>Before the day was over, there was not a shred of black stuff left +in sight; such as had not been sent out of the house to be distributed, +being packed away in coffers in the garrets under the leads.</p> +<p>“You will wear it no more, sister?” Anne asked once. +“You will wear gay colours—as if it had never been?”</p> +<p>“It <i>is</i> as if it had never been,” Clorinda answered. +“Ere now her lord is happy with her, and he is so happy that I +am forgot. I had a fancy that—perhaps at first—well, +if he had looked down on earth—remembering—he would have +seen I was faithful in my honouring of him. But now, I am sure—”</p> +<p>She stopped with a half laugh. “’Twas but a fancy,” +she said. “Perchance he has known naught since that night +he fell at my feet—and even so, poor gentleman, he hath a happy +fate. Yes, I will wear gay colours,” flinging up her arms +as if she dropped fetters, and stretched her beauteous limbs for ease—“gay +colours—and roses and rich jewels—and all things—<i>all</i> +that will make me beautiful!”</p> +<p>The next day there came a chest from London, packed close with splendid +raiment; when she drove out again in her chariot her servants’ +sad-coloured liveries had been laid by, and she was attired in rich +hues, amidst which she glowed like some flower new bloomed.</p> +<p>Her house in town was thrown open again, and set in order for her +coming. She made her journey back in state, Mistress Anne accompanying +her in her travelling-coach. As she passed over the highroad with +her equipage and her retinue, or spent the night for rest at the best +inns in the towns and villages, all seemed to know her name and state.</p> +<p>“’Tis the young widow of the Earl of Dunstanwolde,” +people said to each other—“she that is the great beauty, +and of such a wit and spirit that she is scarce like a mere young lady. +’Twas said she wed him for his rank; but afterwards ’twas +known she made him a happy gentleman, though she gave him no heir. +She wore weeds for him beyond the accustomed time, and is but now issuing +from her retirement.”</p> +<p>Mistress Anne felt as if she were attending some royal lady’s +progress, people so gazed at them and nudged each other, wondered and +admired.</p> +<p>“You do not mind that all eyes rest on you,” she said +to her sister; “you are accustomed to be gazed at.”</p> +<p>“I have been gazed at all my life,” my lady answered; +“I scarce take note of it.”</p> +<p>On their arrival at home they met with fitting welcome and reverence. +The doors of the town house were thrown open wide, and in the hall the +servants stood in line, the housekeeper at the head with her keys at +her girdle, the little jet-black negro page grinning beneath his turban +with joy to see his lady again, he worshipping her as a sort of fetich, +after the manner of his race. ’Twas his duty to take heed +to the pet dogs, and he stood holding by their little silver chains +a smart-faced pug and a pretty spaniel. His lady stopped a moment +to pat them and to speak to him a word of praise of their condition; +and being so favoured, he spoke also, rolling his eyes in his delight +at finding somewhat to impart.</p> +<p>“Yesterday, ladyship, when I took them out,” he said, +“a gentleman marked them, knowing whose they were. He asked +me when my lady came again to town, and I answered him to-day. +’Twas the fair gentleman in his own hair.”</p> +<p>“’Twas Sir John Oxon, your ladyship,” said the +lacquey nearest to him.</p> +<p>Her ladyship left caressing her spaniel and stood upright. +Little Nero was frightened, fearing she was angered; she stood so straight +and tall, but she said nothing and passed on.</p> +<p>At the top of the staircase she turned to Mistress Anne with a laugh.</p> +<p>“Thy favourite again, Anne,” she said. “He +means to haunt me, now we are alone. ’Tis thee he comes +after.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII—Wherein a deadly war begins</h2> +<p>The town and the World of Fashion greeted her on her return with +open arms. Those who looked on when she bent the knee to kiss +the hand of Royalty at the next drawing-room, whispered among themselves +that bereavement had not dimmed her charms, which were even more radiant +than they had been at her presentation on her marriage, and that the +mind of no man or woman could dwell on aught as mournful as widowhood +in connection with her, or, indeed, could think of anything but her +brilliant beauty. ’Twas as if from this time she was launched +into a new life. Being rich, of high rank, and no longer an unmarried +woman, her position had a dignity and freedom which there was no creature +but might have envied. As the wife of Dunstanwolde she had been +the fashion, and adored by all who dared adore her; but as his widow +she was surrounded and besieged. A fortune, a toast, a wit, and +a beauty, she combined all the things either man or woman could desire +to attach themselves to the train of; and had her air been less regal, +and her wit less keen of edge, she would have been so beset by flatterers +and toadies that life would have been burdensome. But this she +would not have, and was swift enough to detect the man whose debts drove +him to the expedient of daring to privately think of the usefulness +of her fortune, or the woman who manoeuvred to gain reputation or success +by means of her position and power.</p> +<p>“They would be about me like vultures if I were weak fool enough +to let them,” she said to Anne. “They cringe and grovel +like spaniels, and flatter till ’tis like to make one sick. +’Tis always so with toadies; they have not the wit to see that +their flattery is an insolence, since it supposes adulation so rare +that one may be moved by it. The men with empty pockets would +marry me, forsooth, and the women be dragged into company clinging to +my petticoats. But they are learning. I do not shrink from +giving them sharp lessons.”</p> +<p>This she did without mercy, and in time cleared herself of hangers-on, +so that her banquets and assemblies were the most distinguished of the +time, and the men who paid their court to her were of such place and +fortune that their worship could but be disinterested.</p> +<p>Among the earliest to wait upon her was his Grace of Osmonde, who +found her one day alone, save for the presence of Mistress Anne, whom +she kept often with her. When the lacquey announced him, Anne, +who sat upon the same seat with her, felt her slightly start, and looking +up, saw in her countenance a thing she had never beheld before, nor +had indeed ever dreamed of beholding. It was a strange, sweet +crimson which flowed over her face, and seemed to give a wondrous deepness +to her lovely orbs. She rose as a queen might have risen had a +king come to her, but never had there been such pulsing softness in +her look before. ’Twas in some curious fashion like the +look of a girl; and, in sooth, she was but a girl in years, but so different +to all others of her age, and had lived so singular a life, that no +one ever thought of her but as a woman, or would have deemed it aught +but folly to credit her with any tender emotion or blushing warmth girlhood +might be allowed.</p> +<p>His Grace was as courtly of bearing as he had ever been. He +stayed not long, and during his visit conversed but on such subjects +as a kinsman may graciously touch upon; but Anne noted in him a new +look also, though she could scarce have told what it might be. +She thought that he looked happier, and her fancy was that some burden +had fallen from him.</p> +<p>Before he went away he bent low and long over Clorinda’s hand, +pressing his lips to it with a tenderness which strove not to conceal +itself. And the hand was not withdrawn, her ladyship standing +in sweet yielding, the tender crimson trembling on her cheek. +Anne herself trembled, watching her new, strange loveliness with a sense +of fascination; she could scarce withdraw her eyes, it seemed so as +if the woman had been reborn.</p> +<p>“Your Grace will come to us again,” my lady said, in +a soft voice. “We are two lonely women,” with her +radiant compelling smile, “and need your kindly countenancing.”</p> +<p>His eyes dwelt deep in hers as he answered, and there was a flush +upon his own cheek, man and warrior though he was.</p> +<p>“If I might come as often as I would,” he said, “I +should be at your door, perhaps, with too great frequency.”</p> +<p>“Nay, your Grace,” she answered. “Come as +often as <i>we</i> would—and see who wearies first. ’Twill +not be ourselves.”</p> +<p>He kissed her hand again, and this time ’twas passionately, +and when he left her presence it was with a look of radiance on his +noble face, and with the bearing of a king new crowned.</p> +<p>For a few moments’ space she stood where he had parted from +her, looking as though listening to the sound of his step, as if she +would not lose a footfall; then she went to the window, and stood among +the flowers there, looking down into the street, and Anne saw that she +watched his equipage.</p> +<p>’Twas early summer, and the sunshine flooded her from head +to foot; the window and balcony were full of flowers—yellow jonquils +and daffodils, white narcissus, and all things fragrant of the spring. +The scent of them floated about her like an incense, and a straying +zephyr blew great puffs of their sweetness back into the room. +Anne felt it all about her, and remembered it until she was an aged +woman.</p> +<p>Clorinda’s bosom rose high in an exultant, rapturous sigh.</p> +<p>“’Tis the Spring that comes,” she murmured breathlessly. +“Never hath it come to me before.”</p> +<p>Even as she said the words, at the very moment of her speaking, Fate—a +strange Fate indeed—brought to her yet another visitor. +The door was thrown open wide, and in he came, a lacquey crying aloud +his name. ’Twas Sir John Oxon.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Those of the World of Fashion who were wont to gossip, had bestowed +upon them a fruitful subject for discussion over their tea-tables, in +the future of the widowed Lady Dunstanwolde. All the men being +enamoured of her, ’twas not likely that she would long remain +unmarried, her period of mourning being over; and, accordingly, forthwith +there was every day chosen for her a new husband by those who concerned +themselves in her affairs, and they were many. One week ’twas +a great general she was said to smile on; again, a great beau and female +conqueror, it being argued that, having made her first marriage for +rank and wealth, and being a passionate and fantastic beauty, she would +this time allow herself to be ruled by her caprice, and wed for love; +again, a certain marquis was named, and after him a young earl renowned +for both beauty and wealth; but though each and all of those selected +were known to have laid themselves at her feet, none of them seemed +to have met with the favour they besought for.</p> +<p>There were two men, however, who were more spoken of than all the +rest, and whose court awakened a more lively interest; indeed, ’twas +an interest which was lively enough at times to become almost a matter +of contention, for those who upheld the cause of the one man would not +hear of the success of the other, the claims of each being considered +of such different nature. These two men were the Duke of Osmonde +and Sir John Oxon. ’Twas the soberer and more dignified +who were sure his Grace had but to proffer his suit to gain it, and +their sole wonder lay in that he did not speak more quickly.</p> +<p>“But being a man of such noble mind, it may be that he would +leave her to her freedom yet a few months, because, despite her stateliness, +she is but young, and ’twould be like his honourableness to wish +that she should see many men while she is free to choose, as she has +never been before. For these days she is not a poor beauty as +she was when she took Dunstanwolde.”</p> +<p>The less serious, or less worldly, especially the sentimental spinsters +and matrons and romantic young, who had heard and enjoyed the rumours +of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs’ strange early days, were prone +to build much upon a certain story of that time.</p> +<p>“Sir John Oxon was her first love,” they said. +“He went to her father’s house a beautiful young man in +his earliest bloom, and she had never encountered such an one before, +having only known country dolts and her father’s friends. +’Twas said they loved each other, but were both passionate and +proud, and quarrelled bitterly. Sir John went to France to strive +to forget her in gay living; he even obeyed his mother and paid court +to another woman, and Mistress Clorinda, being of fierce haughtiness, +revenged herself by marrying Lord Dunstanwolde.”</p> +<p>“But she has never deigned to forgive him,” ’twas +also said. “She is too haughty and of too high a temper +to forgive easily that a man should seem to desert her for another woman’s +favour. Even when ’twas whispered that she favoured him, +she was disdainful, and sometimes flouted him bitterly, as was her way +with all men. She was never gentle, and had always a cutting wit. +She will use him hardly before she relents; but if he sues patiently +enough with such grace as he uses with other women, love will conquer +her at last, for ’twas her first.”</p> +<p>She showed him no great favour, it was true; and yet it seemed she +granted him more privilege than she had done during her lord’s +life, for he was persistent in his following her, and would come to +her house whether of her will or of his own. Sometimes he came +there when the Duke of Osmonde was with her—this happened more +than once—and then her ladyship’s face, which was ever warmly +beautiful when Osmonde was near, would curiously change. It would +grow pale and cold; but in her eyes would burn a strange light which +one man knew was as the light in the eyes of a tigress lying chained, +but crouching to leap. But it was not Osmonde who felt this, he +saw only that she changed colour, and having heard the story of her +girlhood, a little chill of doubt would fall upon his noble heart. +It was not doubt of her, but of himself, and fear that his great passion +made him blind; for he was the one man chivalrous enough to remember +how young she was, and to see the cruelty of the Fate which had given +her unmothered childhood into the hands of a coarse rioter and debauchee, +making her his plaything and his whim. And if in her first hours +of bloom she had been thrown with youthful manhood and beauty, what +more in the course of nature than that she should have learned to love; +and being separated from her young lover by their mutual youthful faults +of pride and passionateness of temper, what more natural than, being +free again, and he suing with all his soul, that her heart should return +to him, even though through a struggle with pride. In her lord’s +lifetime he had not seen Oxon near her; and in those days when he had +so struggled with his own surging love, and striven to bear himself +nobly, he had kept away from her, knowing that his passion was too great +and strong for any man to always hold at bay and make no sign, because +at brief instants he trembled before the thought that in her eyes he +had seen that which would have sprung to answer the same self in him +if she had been a free woman. But now when, despite her coldness, +which never melted to John Oxon, she still turned pale and seemed to +fall under a restraint on his coming, a man of sufficient high dignity +to be splendidly modest where his own merit was concerned, might well +feel that for this there must be a reason, and it might be a grave one.</p> +<p>So though he would not give up his suit until he was sure that ’twas +either useless or unfair, he did not press it as he would have done, +but saw his lady when he could, and watched with all the tenderness +of passion her lovely face and eyes. But one short town season +passed before he won his prize; but to poor Anne it seemed that in its +passing she lived years.</p> +<p>Poor woman, as she had grown thin and large-eyed in those days gone +by, she grew so again. Time in passing had taught her so much +that others did not know; and as she served her sister, and waited on +her wishes, she saw that of which no other dreamed, and saw without +daring to speak, or show by any sign, her knowledge.</p> +<p>The day when Lady Dunstanwolde had turned from standing among her +daffodils, and had found herself confronting the open door of her saloon, +and John Oxon passing through it, Mistress Anne had seen that in her +face and his which had given to her a shock of terror. In John +Oxon’s blue eyes there had been a set fierce look, and in Clorinda’s +a blaze which had been like a declaration of war; and these same looks +she had seen since that day, again and again. Gradually it had +become her sister’s habit to take Anne with her into the world +as she had not done before her widowhood, and Anne knew whence this +custom came. There were times when, by use of her presence, she +could avoid those she wished to thrust aside, and Anne noted, with a +cold sinking of the spirit, that the one she would plan to elude most +frequently was Sir John Oxon; and this was not done easily. The +young man’s gay lightness of demeanour had changed. The +few years that had passed since he had come to pay his courts to the +young beauty in male attire, had brought experiences to him which had +been bitter enough. He had squandered his fortune, and failed +to reinstate himself by marriage; his dissipations had told upon him, +and he had lost his spirit and good-humour; his mocking wit had gained +a bitterness; his gallantry had no longer the gaiety of youth. +And the woman he had loved for an hour with youthful passion, and had +dared to dream of casting aside in boyish insolence, had risen like +a phoenix, and soared high and triumphant to the very sun itself. +“He was ever base,” Clorinda had said. “As he +was at first he is now,” and in the saying there was truth. +If she had been helpless and heartbroken, and had pined for him, he +would have treated her as a victim, and disdained her humiliation and +grief; magnificent, powerful, rich, in fullest beauty, and disdaining +himself, she filled him with a mad passion of love which was strangely +mixed with hatred and cruelty. To see her surrounded by her worshippers, +courted by the Court itself, all eyes drawn towards her as she moved, +all hearts laid at her feet, was torture to him. In such cases +as his and hers, it was the woman who should sue for love’s return, +and watch the averted face, longing for the moment when it would deign +to turn and she could catch the cold eye and plead piteously with her +own. This he had seen; this, men like himself, but older, had +taught him with vicious art; but here was a woman who had scorned him +at the hour which should have been the moment of his greatest powerfulness, +who had mocked at and lashed him in the face with the high derision +of a creature above law, and who never for one instant had bent her +neck to the yoke which women must bear. She had laughed it to +scorn—and him—and all things—and gone on her way, +crowned with her scarlet roses, to wealth, and rank, and power, and +adulation; while he—the man, whose right it was to be transgressor—had +fallen upon hard fortune, and was losing step by step all she had won. +In his way he loved her madly—as he had loved her before, and +as he would have loved any woman who embodied triumph and beauty; and +burning with desire for both, and with jealous rage of all, he swore +he would not be outdone, befooled, cast aside, and trampled on.</p> +<p>At the playhouse when she looked from her box, she saw him leaning +against some pillar or stationed in some noticeable spot, his bold blue +eyes fixed burningly upon her; at fashionable assemblies he made his +way to her side and stood near her, gazing, or dropping words into her +ear; at church he placed himself in some pew near by, that she and all +the world might behold him; when she left her coach and walked in the +Mall he joined her or walked behind. At such times in my lady’s +close-fringed eyes there shone a steady gleam; but they were ever eyes +that glowed, and there were none who had ever come close enough to her +to know her well, and so there were none who read its meaning. +Only Anne knew as no other creature could, and looked on with secret +terror and dismay. The world but said that he was a man mad with +love, and desperate at the knowledge of the powerfulness of his rivals, +could not live beyond sight of her.</p> +<p>They did not hear the words that passed between them at times when +he stood near her in some crowd, and dropped, as ’twas thought, +words of burning prayer and love into her ear. ’Twas said +that it was like her to listen with unchanging face, and when she deigned +reply, to answer without turning towards him. But such words and +replies it had more than once been Anne’s ill-fortune to be near +enough to catch, and hearing them she had shuddered.</p> +<p>One night at a grand rout, the Duke of Osmonde but just having left +the reigning beauty’s side, she heard the voice she hated close +by her, speaking.</p> +<p>“You think you can disdain me to the end,” it said. +“Your ladyship is <i>sure</i> so?”</p> +<p>She did not turn or answer, and there followed a low laugh.</p> +<p>“You think a man will lie beneath your feet and be trodden +upon without speaking. You are too high and bold.”</p> +<p>She waved her painted fan, and gazed steadily before her at the crowd, +now and then bending her head in gracious greeting and smiling at some +passer-by.</p> +<p>“If I could tell the story of the rose garden, and of what +the sun-dial saw, and what the moon shone on—” he said.</p> +<p>He heard her draw her breath sharply through her teeth, he saw her +white bosom lift as if a wild beast leapt within it, and he laughed +again.</p> +<p>“His Grace of Osmonde returns,” he said; and then marking, +as he never failed to do, bitterly against his will, the grace and majesty +of this rival, who was one of the greatest and bravest of England’s +gentlemen, and knowing that she marked it too, his rage so mounted that +it overcame him.</p> +<p>“Sometimes,” he said, “methinks that I shall <i>kill</i> +you!”</p> +<p>“Would you gain your end thereby?” she answered, in a +voice as low and deadly.</p> +<p>“I would frustrate his—and yours.”</p> +<p>“Do it, then,” she hissed back, “some day when +you think I fear you.”</p> +<p>“’Twould be too easy,” he answered. “You +fear it too little. There are bitterer things.”</p> +<p>She rose and met his Grace, who had approached her. Always +to his greatness and his noble heart she turned with that new feeling +of dependence which her whole life had never brought to her before. +His deep eyes, falling on her tenderly as she rose, were filled with +protecting concern. Involuntarily he hastened his steps.</p> +<p>“Will your Grace take me to my coach?” she said. +“I am not well. May I—go?” as gently as a tender, +appealing girl.</p> +<p>And moved by this, as by her pallor, more than his man’s words +could have told, he gave her his arm and drew her quickly and supportingly +away.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne did not sleep well that night, having much to distract +her mind and keep her awake, as was often in these days the case. +When at length she closed her eyes her slumber was fitful and broken +by dreams, and in the mid hour of the darkness she wakened with a start +as if some sound had aroused her. Perhaps there had been some +sound, though all was still when she opened her eyes; but in the chair +by her bedside sat Clorinda in her night-rail, her hands wrung hard +together on her knee, her black eyes staring under a brow knit into +straight deep lines.</p> +<p>“Sister!” cried Anne, starting up in bed. “Sister!”</p> +<p>Clorinda slowly turned her head towards her, whereupon Anne saw that +in her face there was a look as if of horror which struggled with a +grief, a woe, too monstrous to be borne.</p> +<p>“Lie down, Anne,” she said. “Be not afraid—’tis +only I,” bitterly—“who need fear?”</p> +<p>Anne cowered among the pillows and hid her face in her thin hands. +She knew so well that this was true.</p> +<p>“I never thought the time would come,” her sister said, +“when I should seek you for protection. A thing has come +upon me—perhaps I shall go mad—to-night, alone in my room, +I wanted to sit near a woman—’twas not like me, was it?”</p> +<p>Mistress Anne crept near the bed’s edge, and stretching forth +a hand, touched hers, which were as cold as marble.</p> +<p>“Stay with me, sister,” she prayed. “Sister, +do not go! What—what can I say?”</p> +<p>“Naught,” was the steady answer. “There is +naught to be said. You were always a woman—I was never one—till +now.”</p> +<p>She rose up from her chair and threw up her arms, pacing to and fro.</p> +<p>“I am a desperate creature,” she cried. “Why +was I born?”</p> +<p>She walked the room almost like a thing mad and caged.</p> +<p>“Why was I thrown into the world?” striking her breast. +“Why was I made so—and not one to watch or care through +those mad years? To be given a body like this—and tossed +to the wolves.”</p> +<p>She turned to Anne, her arms outstretched, and so stood white and +strange and beauteous as a statue, with drops like great pearls running +down her lovely cheeks, and she caught her breath sobbingly, like a +child.</p> +<p>“I was thrown to them,” she wailed piteously, “and +they harried me—and left the marks of their great teeth—and +of the scars I cannot rid myself—and since it was my fate—pronounced +from my first hour—why was not this,” clutching her breast, +“left hard as ’twas at first? Not a woman’s—not +a woman’s, but a she-cub’s. Ah! ’twas not just—not +just that it should be so!”</p> +<p>Anne slipped from her bed and ran to her, falling upon her knees +and clinging to her, weeping bitterly.</p> +<p>“Poor heart!” she cried. “Poor, dearest heart!”</p> +<p>Her touch and words seemed to recall Clorinda to herself. She +started as if wakened from a dream, and drew her form up rigid.</p> +<p>“I have gone mad,” she said. “What is it +I do?” She passed her hand across her brow and laughed a +little wild laugh. “Yes,” she said; “this it +is to be a woman—to turn weak and run to other women—and +weep and talk. Yes, by these signs I <i>am</i> a woman!” +She stood with her clenched hands pressed against her breast. +“In any fair fight,” she said, “I could have struck +back blow for blow—and mine would have been the heaviest; but +being changed into a woman, my arms are taken from me. He who +strikes, aims at my bared breast—and that he knows and triumphs +in.”</p> +<p>She set her teeth together, and ground them, and the look, which +was like that of a chained and harried tigress, lit itself in her eyes.</p> +<p>“But there is <i>none</i> shall beat me,” she said through +these fierce shut teeth. “Nay I there is <i>none</i>! +Get up, Anne,” bending to raise her. “Get up, or I +shall be kneeling too—and I must stand upon my feet.”</p> +<p>She made a motion as if she would have turned and gone from the room +without further explanation, but Anne still clung to her. She +was afraid of her again, but her piteous love was stronger than her +fear.</p> +<p>“Let me go with you,” she cried. “Let me +but go and lie in your closet that I may be near, if you should call.”</p> +<p>Clorinda put her hands upon her shoulders, and stooping, kissed her, +which in all their lives she had done but once or twice.</p> +<p>“God bless thee, poor Anne,” she said. “I +think thou wouldst lie on my threshold and watch the whole night through, +if I should need it; but I have given way to womanish vapours too much—I +must go and be alone. I was driven by my thoughts to come and +sit and look at thy good face—I did not mean to wake thee. +Go back to bed.”</p> +<p>She would be obeyed, and led Anne to her couch herself, making her +lie down, and drawing the coverlet about her; after which she stood +upright with a strange smile, laying her hands lightly about her own +white throat.</p> +<p>“When I was a new-born thing and had a little throat and a +weak breath,” she cried, “’twould have been an easy +thing to end me. I have been told I lay beneath my mother when +they found her dead. If, when she felt her breath leaving her, +she had laid her hand upon my mouth and stopped mine, I should not,” +with the little laugh again—“I should not lie awake to-night.”</p> +<p>And then she went away.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV—Containing the history of the breaking of the +horse Devil, and relates the returning of his Grace of Osmonde from +France</h2> +<p>There were in this strange nature, depths so awful and profound that +it was not to be sounded or to be judged as others were. But one +thing could have melted or caused the unconquerable spirit to bend, +and this was the overwhelming passion of love—not a slight, tender +feeling, but a great and powerful one, such as could be awakened but +by a being of as strong and deep a nature as itself, one who was in +all things its peer.</p> +<p>“I have been lonely—lonely all my life,” my Lady +Dunstanwolde had once said to her sister, and she had indeed spoken +a truth.</p> +<p>Even in her childhood she had felt in some strange way she stood +apart from the world about her. Before she had been old enough +to reason she had been conscious that she was stronger and had greater +power and endurance than any human being about her. Her strength +she used in these days in wilful tyranny, and indeed it was so used +for many a day when she was older. The time had never been when +an eye lighted on her with indifference, or when she could not rule +and punish as she willed. As an infant she had browbeaten the +women-servants and the stable-boys and grooms; but because of her quick +wit and clever tongue, and also because no humour ever made her aught +but a creature well worth looking at, they had taken her bullying in +good-humour and loved her in their coarse way. She had tyrannised +over her father and his companions, and they had adored and boasted +of her; but there had not been one among them whom she could have turned +to if a softer moment had come upon her and she had felt the need of +a friend, nor indeed one whom she did not regard privately with contempt.</p> +<p>A god or goddess forced upon earth and surrounded by mere human beings +would surely feel a desolateness beyond the power of common words to +express, and a human being endowed with powers and physical gifts so +rare as to be out of all keeping with those of its fellows of ordinary +build and mental stature must needs be lonely too.</p> +<p>She had had no companion, because she had found none like herself, +and none with whom she could have aught in common. Anne she had +pitied, being struck by some sense of the unfairness of her lot as compared +with her own. John Oxon had moved her, bringing to her her first +knowledge of buoyant, ardent youth, and blooming strength and beauty; +for Dunstanwolde she had felt gratitude and affection; but than these +there had been no others who even distantly had touched her heart.</p> +<p>The night she had given her promise to Dunstanwolde, and had made +her obeisance before his kinsman as she had met his deep and leonine +eye, she had known that ’twas the only man’s eye before +which her own would fall and which held the power to rule her very soul.</p> +<p>She did not think this as a romantic girl would have thought it; +it was revealed to her by a sudden tempestuous leap of her heart, and +by a shock like terror. Here was the man who was of her own build, +whose thews and sinews of mind and body was as powerful as her own—here +was he who, had she met him one short year before, would have revolutionised +her world.</p> +<p>In the days of her wifehood when she had read in his noble face something +of that which he endeavoured to command and which to no other was apparent, +the dignity of his self-restraint had but filled her with tenderness +more passionate and grateful.</p> +<p>“Had he been a villain and a coward,” was her thought, +“he would have made my life a bitter battle; but ’tis me +he loves, not himself only, and as I honour him so does he honour me.”</p> +<p>Now she beheld the same passion in his eyes, but no more held in +leash: his look met hers, hiding from her nothing of what his high soul +burned with; and she was free—free to answer when he spoke, and +only feeling one bitterness in her heart—if he had but come in +time—God! why had he not been sent in time?</p> +<p>But, late or early, he had come; and what they had to give each other +should not be mocked at and lost. The night she had ended by going +to Anne’s chamber, she had paced her room saying this again and +again, all the strength of her being rising in revolt. She had +been then a caged tigress of a verity; she had wrung her hands; she +had held her palm hard against her leaping heart; she had walked madly +to and fro, battling in thought with what seemed awful fate; she had +flung herself upon her knees and wept bitter scalding tears.</p> +<p>“He is so noble,” she had cried—“he is so +noble—and I so worship his nobleness—and I have been so +base!”</p> +<p>And in her suffering her woman’s nerves had for a moment betrayed +her. Heretofore she had known no weakness of her sex, but the +woman soul in her so being moved, she had been broken and conquered +for a space, and had gone to Anne’s chamber, scarcely knowing +what refuge she so sought. It had been a feminine act, and she +had realised all it signified when Anne sank weeping by her. Women +who wept and prated together at midnight in their chambers ended by +telling their secrets. So it was that it fell out that Anne saw +not again the changed face to the sight of which she had that night +awakened. It seemed as if my lady from that time made plans which +should never for a moment leave her alone. The next day she was +busied arranging a brilliant rout, the next a rich banquet, the next +a great assembly; she drove in the Mall in her stateliest equipages; +she walked upon its promenade, surrounded by her crowd of courtiers, +smiling upon them, and answering them with shafts of graceful wit—the +charm of her gaiety had never been so remarked upon, her air never so +enchanting. At every notable gathering in the World of Fashion +she was to be seen. Being bidden to the Court, which was at Hampton, +her brilliant beauty and spirit so enlivened the royal dulness that +’twas said the Queen herself was scarce resigned to part with +her, and that the ladies and gentlemen in waiting all suffered from +the spleen when she withdrew. She bought at this time the fiercest +but most beautiful beast of a horse she had ever mounted. The +creature was superbly handsome, but apparently so unconquerable and +so savage that her grooms were afraid to approach it, and indeed it +could not be saddled and bitted unless she herself stood near. +Even the horse-dealer, rogue though he was, had sold it to her with +some approach to a qualm of conscience, having confessed to her that +it had killed two grooms, and been sentenced to be shot by its first +owner, and was still living only because its great beauty had led him +to hesitate for a few days. It was by chance that during these +few days Lady Dunstanwolde heard of it, and going to see it, desired +and bought it at once.</p> +<p>“It is the very beast I want,” she said, with a gleam +in her eye. “It will please me to teach it that there is +one stronger than itself.”</p> +<p>She had much use for her loaded riding-whip; and indeed, not finding +it heavy enough, ordered one made which was heavier. When she +rode the beast in Hyde Park, her first battles with him were the town +talk; and there were those who bribed her footmen to inform them beforehand, +when my lady was to take out Devil, that they might know in time to +be in the Park to see her. Fops and hunting-men laid wagers as +to whether her ladyship would kill the horse or be killed by him, and +followed her training of the creature with an excitement and delight +quite wild.</p> +<p>“Well may the beast’s name be Devil,” said more +than one looker-on; “for he is not so much horse as demon. +And when he plunges and rears and shows his teeth, there is a look in +his eye which flames like her own, and ’tis as if a male and female +demon fought together, for surely such a woman never lived before. +She will not let him conquer her, God knows; and it would seem that +he was swearing in horse fashion that she should not conquer him.”</p> +<p>When he was first bought and brought home, Mistress Anne turned ashy +at the sight of him, and in her heart of hearts grieved bitterly that +it had so fallen out that his Grace of Osmonde had been called away +from town by high and important matters; for she knew full well, that +if he had been in the neighbourhood, he would have said some discreet +and tender word of warning to which her ladyship would have listened, +though she would have treated with disdain the caution of any other +man or woman. When she herself ventured to speak, Clorinda looked +only stern.</p> +<p>“I have ridden only ill-tempered beasts all my life, and that +for the mere pleasure of subduing them,” she said. “I +have no liking for a horse like a bell-wether; and if this one should +break my neck, I need battle with neither men nor horses again, and +I shall die at the high tide of life and power; and those who think +of me afterwards will only remember that they loved me—that they +loved me.”</p> +<p>But the horse did not kill her, nor she it. Day after day she +stood by while it was taken from its stall, many a time dealing with +it herself, because no groom dare approach; and then she would ride +it forth, and in Hyde Park force it to obey her; the wondrous strength +of her will, her wrist of steel, and the fierce, pitiless punishment +she inflicted, actually daunting the devilish creature’s courage. +She would ride from the encounter, through two lines of people who had +been watching her—and some of them found themselves following +after her, even to the Park gate—almost awed as they looked at +her, sitting erect and splendid on the fretted, anguished beast, whose +shining skin was covered with lather, whose mouth tossed blood-flecked +foam, and whose great eye was so strangely like her own, but that hers +glowed with the light of triumph, and his burned with the agonised protest +of the vanquished. At such times there was somewhat of fear in +the glances that followed her beauty, which almost seemed to blaze—her +colour was so rich, the curve of her red mouth so imperial, the poise +of her head, with its loosening coils of velvet black hair, so high.</p> +<p>“It is good for me that I do this,” she said to Anne, +with a short laugh, one day. “I was growing too soft—and +I have need now for all my power. To fight with the demon in this +beast, rouses all in me that I have held in check since I became my +poor lord’s wife. That the creature should have set his +will against all others, and should resist me with such strength and +devilishness, rouses in me the passion of the days when I cursed and +raved and struck at those who angered me. ’Tis fury that +possesses me, and I could curse and shriek at him as I flog him, if +’twould be seemly. As it would not be so, I shut my teeth +hard, and shriek and curse within them, and none can hear.”</p> +<p>Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went +forth on Devil that they might stand near and behold her, there was +one man ever present, and ’twas Sir John Oxon. He would +stand as near as might be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his +eye, and a look as if the outcome of the fray had deadly meaning to +him. He would gnaw his lip until at times the blood started; his +face would by turns flush scarlet and turn deadly pale; he would move +suddenly and restlessly, and break forth under breath into oaths of +exclamation. One day a man close by him saw him suddenly lay his +hand upon his sword, and having so done, still keep it there, though +’twas plain he quickly remembered where he was.</p> +<p>As for the horse’s rider, my Lady Dunstanwolde, whose way it +had been to avoid this man and to thrust him from her path by whatsoever +adroit means she could use, on these occasions made no effort to evade +him and his glances; in sooth, he knew, though none other did so, that +when she fought with her horse she did it with a fierce joy in that +he beheld her. ’Twas as though the battle was between themselves; +and knowing this in the depths of such soul as he possessed, there were +times when the man would have exulted to see the brute rise and fall +upon her, crushing her out of life, or dash her to the earth and set +his hoof upon her dazzling upturned face. Her scorn and deadly +defiance of him, her beauty and maddening charm, which seemed but to +increase with every hour that flew by, had roused his love to fury. +Despite his youth, he was a villain, as he had ever been; even in his +first freshness there had been older men—and hardened ones—who +had wondered at the selfish mercilessness and blackness of the heart +that was but that of a boy. They had said among themselves that +at his years they had never known a creature who could be so gaily a +dastard, one who could plan with such light remorselessness, and using +all the gifts given him by Nature solely for his own ends, would take +so much and give so little. In truth, as time had gone on, men +who had been his companions, and had indeed small consciences to boast +of, had begun to draw off a little from him, and frequent his company +less. He chose to tell himself that this was because he had squandered +his fortune and was less good company, being pursued by creditors and +haunted by debts; but though there was somewhat in this, perchance ’twas +not the entire truth.</p> +<p>“By Gad!” said one over his cups, “there are things +even a rake-hell fellow like me cannot do; but he does them, and seems +not to know that they are to his discredit.”</p> +<p>There had been a time when without this woman’s beauty he might +have lived—indeed, he had left it of his own free vicious will; +but in these days, when his fortunes had changed and she represented +all that he stood most desperately in need of, her beauty drove him +mad. In his haunting of her, as he followed her from place to +place, his passion grew day by day, and all the more gained strength +and fierceness because it was so mixed with hate. He tossed upon +his bed at night and cursed her; he remembered the wild past, and the +memory all but drove him to delirium. He knew of what stern stuff +she was made, and that even if her love had died, she would have held +to her compact like grim death, even while loathing him. And he +had cast all this aside in one mad moment of boyish cupidity and folly; +and now that she was so radiant and entrancing a thing, and wealth, +and splendour, and rank, and luxury lay in the hollow of her hand, she +fixed her beauteous devil’s eyes upon him with a scorn in their +black depths which seemed to burn like fires of hell.</p> +<p>The great brute who dashed, and plunged, and pranced beneath her +seemed to have sworn to conquer her as he had sworn himself; but let +him plunge and kick as he would, there was no quailing in her eye, she +sat like a creature who was superhuman, and her hand was iron, her wrist +was steel. She held him so that he could not do his worst without +such pain as would drive him mad; she lashed him, and rained on him +such blows as almost made him blind. Once at the very worst, Devil +dancing near him, she looked down from his back into John Oxon’s +face, and he cursed aloud, her eye so told him his own story and hers. +In those days their souls met in such combat as it seemed must end in +murder itself.</p> +<p>“You will not conquer him,” he said to her one morning, +forcing himself near enough to speak.</p> +<p>“I will, unless he kills me,” she answered, “and +that methinks he will find it hard to do.”</p> +<p>“He will kill you,” he said. “I would, were +I in his four shoes.”</p> +<p>“You would if you could,” were her words; “but +you could not with his bit in your mouth and my hand on the snaffle. +And if he killed me, still ’twould be he, not I, was beaten; since +he could only kill what any bloody villain could with any knife. +He is a brute beast, and I am that which was given dominion over such. +Look on till I have done with him.”</p> +<p>And thus, with other beholders, though in a different mood from theirs, +he did, until a day when even the most sceptical saw that the brute +came to the fray with less of courage, as if there had at last come +into his brain the dawning of a fear of that which rid him, and all +his madness could not displace from its throne upon his back.</p> +<p>“By God!” cried more than one of the bystanders, seeing +this, despite the animal’s fury, “the beast gives way! +He gives way! She has him!” And John Oxon, shutting +his teeth, cut short an oath and turned pale as death.</p> +<p>From that moment her victory was a thing assured. The duel +of strength became less desperate, and having once begun to learn his +lesson, the brute was made to learn it well. His bearing was a +thing superb to behold; once taught obedience, there would scarce be +a horse like him in the whole of England. And day by day this +he learned from her, and being mastered, was put through his paces, +and led to answer to the rein, so that he trotted, cantered, galloped, +and leaped as a bird flies. Then as the town had come to see him +fight for freedom, it came to see him adorn the victory of the being +who had conquered him, and over their dishes of tea in the afternoon +beaux and beauties of fashion gossiped of the interesting and exciting +event; and there were vapourish ladies who vowed they could not have +beaten a brute so, and that surely my Lady Dunstanwolde must have looked +hot and blowzy while she did it, and have had the air of a great rough +man; and there were some pretty tiffs and even quarrels when the men +swore that never had she looked so magnificent a beauty and so inflamed +the hearts of all beholding her.</p> +<p>On the first day after her ladyship’s last battle with her +horse, the one which ended in such victory to her that she rode him +home hard through the streets without an outbreak, he white with lather, +and marked with stripes, but his large eye holding in its velvet a look +which seemed almost like a human thought—on that day after there +occurred a thing which gave the town new matter to talk of.</p> +<p>His Grace of Osmonde had been in France, called there by business +of the State, and during his absence the gossip concerning the horse +Devil had taken the place of that which had before touched on himself. +’Twas not announced that he was to return to England, and indeed +there were those who, speaking with authority, said that for two weeks +at least his affairs abroad would not be brought to a close; and yet +on this morning, as my Lady Dunstanwolde rode ’neath the trees, +holding Devil well in hand, and watching him with eagle keenness of +eye, many looking on in wait for the moment when the brute might break +forth suddenly again, a horseman was seen approaching at a pace so rapid +that ’twas on the verge of a gallop, and the first man who beheld +him looked amazed and lifted his hat, and the next, seeing him, spoke +to another, who bowed with him, and all along the line of loungers hats +were removed, and people wore the air of seeing a man unexpectedly, +and hearing a name spoken in exclamation by his side, Sir John Oxon +looked round and beheld ride by my lord Duke of Osmonde. The sun +was shining brilliantly, and all the Park was gay with bright warmth +and greenness of turf and trees. Clorinda felt the glow of the +summer morning permeate her being. She kept her watch upon her +beast; but he was going well, and in her soul she knew that he was beaten, +and that her victory had been beheld by the one man who knew that it +meant to her that which it seemed to mean also to himself. And +filled with this thought and the joy of it, she rode beneath the trees, +and so was riding with splendid spirit when she heard a horse behind +her, and looked up as it drew near, and the rich crimson swept over +her in a sweet flood, so that it seemed to her she felt it warm on her +very shoulders, ’neath her habit, for ’twas Osmonde’s +self who had followed and reached her, and uncovered, keeping pace by +her side.</p> +<p>Ah, what a face he had, and how his eyes burned as they rested on +her. It was such a look she met, that for a moment she could not +find speech, and he himself spoke as a man who, through some deep emotion, +has almost lost his breath.</p> +<p>“My Lady Dunstanwolde,” he began; and then with a sudden +passion, “Clorinda, my beloved!” The time had come +when he could not keep silence, and with great leapings of her heart +she knew. Yet not one word said she, for she could not; but her +beauty, glowing and quivering under his eyes’ great fire, answered +enough.</p> +<p>“Were it not that I fear for your sake the beast you ride,” +he said, “I would lay my hand upon his bridle, that I might crush +your hand in mine. At post-haste I have come from France, hearing +this thing—that you endangered every day that which I love so +madly. My God! beloved, cruel, cruel woman—sure you must +know!”</p> +<p>She answered with a breathless wild surrender. “Yes, +yes!” she gasped, “I know.”</p> +<p>“And yet you braved this danger, knowing that you might leave +me a widowed man for life.”</p> +<p>“But,” she said, with a smile whose melting radiance +seemed akin to tears—“but see how I have beaten him—and +all is passed.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” he said, “as you have conquered all—as +you have conquered me—and did from the first hour. But God +forbid that you should make me suffer so again.”</p> +<p>“Your Grace,” she said, faltering, “I—I will +not!”</p> +<p>“Forgive me for the tempest of my passion,” he said. +“’Twas not thus I had thought to come to make my suit. +’Tis scarcely fitting that it should be so; but I was almost mad +when I first heard this rumour, knowing my duty would not loose me to +come to you at once—and knowing you so well, that only if your +heart had melted to the one who besought you, you would give up.”</p> +<p>“I—give up,” she answered; “I give up.”</p> +<p>“I worship you,” he said; “I worship you.” +And their meeting eyes were drowned in each other’s tenderness.</p> +<p>They galloped side by side, and the watchers looked on, exchanging +words and glances, seeing in her beauteous, glowing face, in his joyous +one, the final answer to the question they had so often asked each other. +’Twas his Grace of Osmonde who was the happy man, he and no other. +That was a thing plain indeed to be seen, for they were too high above +the common world to feel that they must play the paltry part of outward +trifling to deceive it; and as the sun pierces through clouds and is +stronger than they, so their love shone like the light of day itself +through poor conventions. They did not know the people gazed and +whispered, and if they had known it, the thing would have counted for +naught with them.</p> +<p>“See!” said my lady, patting her Devil’s neck—“see, +he knows that you have come, and frets no more.”</p> +<p>They rode homeward together, the great beauty and the great duke, +and all the town beheld; and after they had passed him where he stood, +John Oxon mounted his own horse and galloped away, white-lipped and +with mad eyes.</p> +<p>“Let me escort you home,” the duke had said, “that +I may kneel to you there, and pour forth my heart as I have so dreamed +of doing. To-morrow I must go back to France, because I left my +errand incomplete. I stole from duty the time to come to you, +and I must return as quickly as I came.” So he took her +home; and as they entered the wide hall together, side by side, the +attendant lacqueys bowed to the ground in deep, welcoming obeisance, +knowing it was their future lord and master they received.</p> +<p>Together they went to her own sitting-room, called the Panelled Parlour, +a beautiful great room hung with rare pictures, warm with floods of +the bright summer sunshine, and perfumed with bowls of summer flowers; +and as the lacquey departed, bowing, and closed the door behind him, +they turned and were enfolded close in each other’s arms, and +stood so, with their hearts beating as surely it seemed to them human +hearts had never beat before.</p> +<p>“Oh! my dear love, my heavenly love!” he cried. +“It has been so long—I have lived in prison and in fetters—and +it has been so long!”</p> +<p>Even as my Lord Dunstanwolde had found cause to wonder at her gentle +ways, so was this man amazed at her great sweetness, now that he might +cross the threshold of her heart. She gave of herself as an empress +might give of her store of imperial jewels, with sumptuous lavishness, +knowing that the store could not fail. In truth, it seemed that +it must be a dream that she so stood before him in all her great, rich +loveliness, leaning against his heaving breast, her arms as tender as +his own, her regal head thrown backward that they might gaze into the +depths of each other’s eyes.</p> +<p>“From that first hour that I looked up at you,” she said, +“I knew you were my lord—my lord! And a fierce pain +stabbed my heart, knowing you had come too late by but one hour; for +had it not been that Dunstanwolde had led me to you, I knew—ah! +how well I knew—that our hearts would have beaten together not +as two hearts but as one.”</p> +<p>“As they do now,” he cried.</p> +<p>“As they do now,” she answered—“as they do +now!”</p> +<p>“And from the moment that your rose fell at my feet and I raised +it in my hand,” he said, “I knew I held some rapture which +was my own. And when you stood before me at Dunstanwolde’s +side and our eyes met, I could not understand—nay, I could scarce +believe that it had been taken from me.”</p> +<p>There, in her arms, among the flowers and in the sweetness of the +sun, he lived again the past, telling her of the days when, knowing +his danger, he had held himself aloof, declining to come to her lord’s +house with the familiarity of a kinsman, because the pang of seeing +her often was too great to bear; and relating to her also the story +of the hours when he had watched her and she had not known his nearness +or guessed his pain, when she had passed in her equipage, not seeing +him, or giving him but a gracious smile. He had walked outside +her window at midnight sometimes, too, coming because he was a despairing +man, and could not sleep, and returning homeward, having found no rest, +but only increase of anguish. “Sometimes,” he said, +“I dared not look into your eyes, fearing my own would betray +me; but now I can gaze into your soul itself, for the midnight is over—and +joy cometh with the morning.”</p> +<p>As he had spoken, he had caressed softly with his hand her cheek +and her crown of hair, and such was his great gentleness that ’twas +as if he touched lovingly a child; for into her face there had come +that look which it would seem that in the arms of the man she loves +every true woman wears—a look which is somehow like a child’s +in its trusting, sweet surrender and appeal, whatsoever may be her stateliness +and the splendour of her beauty.</p> +<p>Yet as he touched her cheek so and her eyes so dwelt on him, suddenly +her head fell heavily upon his breast, hiding her face, even while her +unwreathing arms held more closely.</p> +<p>“Oh! those mad days before!” she cried—“Oh! +those mad, mad days before!”</p> +<p>“Nay, they are long passed, sweet,” he said, in his deep, +noble voice, thinking that she spoke of the wildness of her girlish +years—“and all our days of joy are yet to come.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” she cried, clinging closer, yet with shuddering, +“they were <i>before</i>—the joy—the joy is all to +come.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV—In which Sir John Oxon finds again a trophy he +had lost</h2> +<p>His Grace of Osmonde went back to France to complete his business, +and all the world knew that when he returned to England ’twould +be to make his preparations for his marriage with my Lady Dunstanwolde. +It was a marriage not long to be postponed, and her ladyship herself +was known already to be engaged with lacemen, linen-drapers, toyshop +women, and goldsmiths. Mercers awaited upon her at her house, +accompanied by their attendants, bearing burdens of brocades and silks, +and splendid stuffs of all sorts. Her chariot was to be seen standing +before their shops, and the interest in her purchases was so great that +fashionable beauties would contrive to visit the counters at the same +hours as herself, so that they might catch glimpses of what she chose. +In her own great house all was repressed excitement; her women were +enraptured at being allowed the mere handling and laying away of the +glories of her wardrobe; the lacqueys held themselves with greater state, +knowing that they were soon to be a duke’s servants; her little +black Nero strutted about, his turban set upon his pate with a majestic +cock, and disdained to enter into battle with such pages of his own +colour as wore only silver collars, he feeling assured that his own +would soon be of gold.</p> +<p>The World of Fashion said when her ladyship’s equipage drove +by, that her beauty was like that of the god of day at morning, and +that ’twas plain that no man or woman had ever beheld her as his +Grace of Osmonde would.</p> +<p>“She loves at last,” a wit said. “Until the +time that such a woman loves, however great her splendour, she is as +the sun behind a cloud.”</p> +<p>“And now this one hath come forth, and shines so that she warms +us in mere passing,” said another. “What eyes, and +what a mouth, with that strange smile upon it. Whoever saw such +before? and when she came to town with my Lord Dunstanwolde, who, beholding +her, would have believed that she could wear such a look?”</p> +<p>In sooth, there was that in her face and in her voice when she spoke +which almost made Anne weep, through its strange sweetness and radiance. +’Twas as if the flood of her joy had swept away all hardness and +disdain. Her eyes, which had seemed to mock at all they rested +on, mocked no more, but ever seemed to smile at some dear inward thought.</p> +<p>One night when she went forth to a Court ball, being all attired +in brocade of white and silver, and glittering with the Dunstanwolde +diamonds, which starred her as with great sparkling dewdrops, and yet +had not the radiance of her eyes and smile, she was so purely wonderful +a vision that Anne, who had been watching her through all the time when +she had been under the hands of her tirewoman, and beholding her now +so dazzling and white a shining creature, fell upon her knees to kiss +her hand almost as one who worships.</p> +<p>“Oh, sister,” she said, “you look like a spirit. +It is as if with the earth you had naught to do—as if your eyes +saw Heaven itself and Him who reigns there.”</p> +<p>The lovely orbs of Clorinda shone more still like the great star +of morning.</p> +<p>“Sister Anne,” she said, laying her hand on her white +breast, “at times I think that I must almost be a spirit, I feel +such heavenly joy. It is as if He whom you believe in, and who +can forgive and wipe out sins, has forgiven me, and has granted it to +me, that I may begin my poor life again. Ah! I will make +it better; I will try to make it as near an angel’s life as a +woman can; and I will do no wrong, but only good; and I will believe, +and pray every day upon my knees—and all my prayers will be that +I may so live that my dear lord—my Gerald—could forgive +me all that I have ever done—and seeing my soul, would know me +worthy of him. Oh! we are strange things, we human creatures, +Anne,” with a tremulous smile; “we do not believe until +we want a thing, and feel that we shall die if ’tis not granted +to us; and then we kneel and kneel and believe, because we <i>must</i> +have somewhat to ask help from.”</p> +<p>“But all help has been given to you,” poor tender Anne +said, kissing her hand again; “and I will pray, I will pray—”</p> +<p>“Ay, pray, Anne, pray with all thy soul,” Clorinda answered; +“I need thy praying—and thou didst believe always, and have +asked so little that has been given thee.”</p> +<p>“Thou wast given me, sister,” said Anne. “Thou +hast given me a home and kindness such as I never dared to hope; thou +hast been like a great star to me—I have had none other, and I +thank Heaven on my knees each night for the brightness my star has shed +on me.”</p> +<p>“Poor Anne, dear Anne!” Clorinda said, laying her arms +about her and kissing her. “Pray for thy star, good, tender +Anne, that its light may not be quenched.” Then with a sudden +movement her hand was pressed upon her bosom again. “Ah, +Anne,” she cried, and in the music of her voice, agony itself +was ringing—“Anne, there is but one thing on this earth +God rules over—but one thing that belongs—<i>belongs</i> +to me; and ’tis Gerald Mertoun—and he is mine and <i>shall</i> +not be taken from me, for he is a part of me, and I a part of him!”</p> +<p>“He will not be,” said Anne—“he will not.”</p> +<p>“He cannot,” Clorinda answered—“he shall +not! ’Twould not be human.”</p> +<p>She drew a long breath and was calm again.</p> +<p>“Did it reach your ears,” she said, reclasping a band +of jewels on her arm, “that John Oxon had been offered a place +in a foreign Court, and that ’twas said he would soon leave England?”</p> +<p>“I heard some rumour of it,” Anne answered, her emotion +getting the better of her usual discreet speech. “God grant +it may be true!”</p> +<p>“Ay!” said Clorinda, “would God that he were gone!”</p> +<p>But that he was not, for when she entered the assembly that night +he was standing near the door as though he lay in waiting for her, and +his eyes met hers with a leaping gleam, which was a thing of such exultation +that to encounter it was like having a knife thrust deep into her side +and through and through it, for she knew full well that he could not +wear such a look unless he had some strength of which she knew not.</p> +<p>This gleam was in his eyes each time she found herself drawn to them, +and it seemed as though she could look nowhere without encountering +his gaze. He followed her from room to room, placing himself where +she could not lift her eyes without beholding him; when she walked a +minuet with a royal duke, he stood and watched her with such a look +in his face as drew all eyes towards him.</p> +<p>“’Tis as if he threatens her,” one said. +“He has gone mad with disappointed love.”</p> +<p>But ’twas not love that was in his look, but the madness of +long-thwarted passion mixed with hate and mockery; and this she saw, +and girded her soul with all its strength, knowing that she had a fiercer +beast to deal with, and a more vicious and dangerous one, than her horse +Devil. That he kept at first at a distance from her, and but looked +on with this secret exultant glow in his bad, beauteous eyes, told her +that at last he felt he held some power in his hands, against which +all her defiance would be as naught. Till this hour, though she +had suffered, and when alone had writhed in agony of grief and bitter +shame, in his presence she had never flinched. Her strength she +knew was greater than his; but his baseness was his weapon, and the +depths of that baseness she knew she had never reached.</p> +<p>At midnight, having just made obeisance before Royalty retiring, +she felt that at length he had drawn near and was standing at her side.</p> +<p>“To-night,” he said, in the low undertone it was his +way to keep for such occasions, knowing how he could pierce her ear—“to-night +you are Juno’s self—a very Queen of Heaven!”</p> +<p>She made no answer.</p> +<p>“And I have stood and watched you moving among all lesser goddesses +as the moon sails among the stars, and I have smiled in thinking of +what these lesser deities would say if they had known what I bear in +my breast to-night.”</p> +<p>She did not even make a movement—in truth, she felt that at +his next words she might change to stone.</p> +<p>“I have found it,” he said—“I have it here—the +lost treasure—the tress of hair like a raven’s wing and +six feet long. Is there another woman in England who could give +a man a lock like it?”</p> +<p>She felt then that she had, in sooth, changed to stone; her heart +hung without moving in her breast; her eyes felt great and hollow and +staring as she lifted them to him.</p> +<p>“I knew not,” she said slowly, and with bated breath, +for the awfulness of the moment had even made her body weak as she had +never known it feel before—“I knew not truly that hell made +things like you.”</p> +<p>Whereupon he made a movement forward, and the crowd about surged +nearer with hasty exclamations, for the strange weakness of her body +had overpowered her in a way mysterious to her, and she had changed +to marble, growing too heavy of weight for her sinking limbs. +And those in the surrounding groups saw a marvellous thing—the +same being that my Lady Dunstanwolde swayed as she turned, and falling, +lay stretched, as if dead, in her white and silver and flashing jewels +at the startled beholders’ feet.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>She wore no radiant look when she went home that night. She +would go home alone and unescorted, excepting by her lacqueys, refusing +all offers of companionship when once placed in her equipage. +There were, of course, gentlemen who would not be denied leading her +to her coach; John Oxon was among them, and at the last pressed close, +with a manner of great ceremony, speaking a final word.</p> +<p>“’Tis useless, your ladyship,” he murmured, as +he made his obeisance gallantly, and though the words were uttered in +his lowest tone and with great softness, they reached her ear as he +intended that they should. “To-morrow morning I shall wait +upon you.”</p> +<p>Anne had forborne going to bed, and waited for her return, longing +to see her spirit’s face again before she slept; for this poor +tender creature, being denied all woman’s loves and joys by Fate, +who had made her as she was, so lived in her sister’s beauty and +triumphs that ’twas as if in some far-off way she shared them, +and herself experienced through them the joy of being a woman transcendently +beautiful and transcendently beloved. To-night she had spent her +waiting hours in her closet and upon her knees, praying with all humble +adoration of the Being she approached. She was wont to pray long +and fervently each day, thanking Heaven for the smallest things and +the most common, and imploring continuance of the mercy which bestowed +them upon her poor unworthiness. For her sister her prayers were +offered up night and morning, and ofttimes in hours between, and to-night +she prayed not for herself at all, but for Clorinda and for his Grace +of Osmonde, that their love might be crowned with happiness, and that +no shadow might intervene to cloud its brightness, and the tender rapture +in her sister’s softened look, which was to her a thing so wonderful +that she thought of it with reverence as a holy thing.</p> +<p>Her prayers being at length ended, she had risen from her knees and +sat down, taking a sacred book to read, a book of sermons such as ’twas +her simple habit to pore over with entire respect and child-like faith, +and being in the midst of her favourite homily, she heard the chariot’s +returning wheels, and left her chair, surprised, because she had not +yet begun to expect the sound.</p> +<p>“’Tis my sister,” she said, with a soft, sentimental +smile. “Osmonde not being among the guests, she hath no +pleasure in mingling with them.”</p> +<p>She went below to the room her ladyship usually went to first on +her return at night from any gathering, and there she found her sitting +as though she had dropped there in the corner of a great divan, her +hands hanging clasped before her on her knee, her head hanging forward +on her fallen chest, her large eyes staring into space.</p> +<p>“Clorinda! Clorinda!” Anne cried, running to her +and kneeling at her side. “Clorinda! God have mercy! +What is’t?”</p> +<p>Never before had her face worn such a look—’twas colourless, +and so drawn and fallen in that ’twas indeed almost as if all +her great beauty was gone; but the thing most awful to poor Anne was +that all the new softness seemed as if it had been stamped out, and +the fierce hardness had come back and was engraven in its place, mingled +with a horrible despair.</p> +<p>“An hour ago,” she said, “I swooned. That +is why I look thus. ’Tis yet another sign that I am a woman—a +woman!”</p> +<p>“You are ill—you swooned?” cried Anne. “I +must send for your physician. Have you not ordered that he be +sent for yourself? If Osmonde were here, how perturbed he would +be!”</p> +<p>“Osmonde!” said my lady. “Gerald! Is +there a Gerald, Anne?”</p> +<p>“Sister!” cried Anne, affrighted by her strange look—“oh, +sister!”</p> +<p>“I have seen heaven,” Clorinda said; “I have stood +on the threshold and seen through the part-opened gate—and then +have been dragged back to hell.”</p> +<p>Anne clung to her, gazing upwards at her eyes, in sheer despair.</p> +<p>“But back to hell I will not go,” she went on saying. +“Had I not seen Heaven, they might perhaps have dragged me; but +now I will not go—I will not, that I swear! There is a thing +which cannot be endured. Bear it no woman should. Even I, +who was not born a woman, but a wolf’s she-cub, I cannot. +’Twas not I, ’twas Fate,” she said—“’twas +not I, ’twas Fate—’twas the great wheel we are bound +to, which goes round and round that we may be broken on it. ’Twas +not I who bound myself there; and I will not be broken so.”</p> +<p>She said the words through her clenched teeth, and with all the mad +passion of her most lawless years; even at Anne she looked almost in +the old ungentle fashion, as though half scorning all weaker than herself, +and having small patience with them.</p> +<p>“There will be a way,” she said—“there will +be a way. I shall not swoon again.”</p> +<p>She left her divan and stood upright, the colour having come back +to her face; but the look Anne worshipped not having returned with it, +’twas as though Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had been born again.</p> +<p>“To-morrow morning I go forth on Devil,” she said; “and +I shall be abroad if any visitors come.”</p> +<p>What passed in her chamber that night no human being knew. +Anne, who left her own apartment and crept into a chamber near hers +to lie and watch, knew that she paced to and fro, but heard no other +sound, and dared not intrude upon her.</p> +<p>When she came forth in the morning she wore the high look she had +been wont to wear in the years gone by, when she ruled in her father’s +house, and rode to the hunt with a following of gay middle-aged and +elderly rioters. Her eye was brilliant, and her colour matched +it. She held her head with the old dauntless carriage, and there +was that in her voice before which her women quaked, and her lacqueys +hurried to do her bidding.</p> +<p>Devil himself felt this same thing in the touch of her hand upon +his bridle when she mounted him at the door, and seemed to glance askance +at her sideways.</p> +<p>She took no servant with her, and did not ride to the Park, but to +the country. Once on the highroad, she rode fast and hard, only +galloping straight before her as the way led, and having no intention. +Where she was going she knew not; but why she rode on horseback she +knew full well, it being because the wild, almost fierce motion was +in keeping with the tempest in her soul. Thoughts rushed through +her brain even as she rushed through the air on Devil’s back, +and each leaping after the other, seemed to tear more madly.</p> +<p>“What shall I do?” she was saying to herself. “What +thing is there for me to do? I am trapped like a hunted beast, +and there is no way forth.”</p> +<p>The blood went like a torrent through her veins, so that she seemed +to hear it roaring in her ears; her heart thundered in her side, or +’twas so she thought of it as it bounded, while she recalled the +past and looked upon the present.</p> +<p>“What else could have been?” she groaned. “Naught +else—naught else. ’Twas a trick—a trick of Fate +to ruin me for my punishment.”</p> +<p>When she had gone forth it had been with no hope in her breast that +her wit might devise a way to free herself from the thing which so beset +her, for she had no weak fancies that there dwelt in this base soul +any germ of honour which might lead it to relenting. As she had +sat in her dark room at night, crouched upon the floor, and clenching +her hands, as the mad thoughts went whirling through her brain, she +had stared her Fate in the face and known all its awfulness. Before +her lay the rapture of a great, sweet, honourable passion, a high and +noble life lived in such bliss as rarely fell to lot of woman—on +this one man she knew that she could lavish all the splendour of her +nature, and make his life a heaven, as hers would be. Behind her +lay the mad, uncared-for years, and one black memory blighting all to +come, though ’twould have been but a black memory with no power +to blight if the heaven of love had not so opened to her and with its +light cast all else into shadow.</p> +<p>“If ’twere not love,” she cried—“if +’twere but ambition, I could defy it to the last; but ’tis +love—love—love, and it will kill me to forego it.”</p> +<p>Even as she moaned the words she heard hoof beats near her, and a +horseman leaped the hedge and was at her side. She set her teeth, +and turning, stared into John Oxon’s face.</p> +<p>“Did you think I would not follow you?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No,” she answered.</p> +<p>“I have followed you at a distance hitherto,” he said; +“now I shall follow close.”</p> +<p>She did not speak, but galloped on.</p> +<p>“Think you you can outride me?” he said grimly, quickening +his steed’s pace. “I go with your ladyship to your +own house. For fear of scandal you have not openly rebuffed me +previous to this time; for a like reason you will not order your lacqueys +to shut your door when I enter it with you.”</p> +<p>My Lady Dunstanwolde turned to gaze at him again. The sun shone +on his bright falling locks and his blue eyes as she had seen it shine +in days which seemed so strangely long passed by, though they were not +five years agone.</p> +<p>“’Tis strange,” she said, with a measure of wonder, +“to live and be so black a devil.”</p> +<p>“Bah! my lady,” he said, “these are fine words—and +fine words do not hold between us. Let us leave them. I +would escort you home, and speak to you in private.” There +was that in his mocking that was madness to her, and made her sick and +dizzy with the boiling of the blood which surged to her brain. +The fury of passion which had been a terror to all about her when she +had been a child was upon her once more, and though she had thought +herself freed from its dominion, she knew it again and all it meant. +She felt the thundering beat in her side, the hot flood leaping to her +cheek, the flame burning her eyes themselves as if fire was within them. +Had he been other than he was, her face itself would have been a warning. +But he pressed her hard. As he would have slunk away a beaten +cur if she had held the victory in her hands, so feeling that the power +was his, he exulted over the despairing frenzy which was in her look.</p> +<p>“I pay back old scores,” he said. “There +are many to pay. When you crowned yourself with roses and set +your foot upon my face, your ladyship thought not of this! When +you gave yourself to Dunstanwolde and spat at me, you did not dream +that there could come a time when I might goad as you did.”</p> +<p>She struck Devil with her whip, who leaped forward; but Sir John +followed hard behind her. He had a swift horse too, and urged +him fiercely, so that between these two there was a race as if for life +or death. The beasts bounded forward, spurning the earth beneath +their feet. My lady’s face was set, her eyes were burning +flame, her breath came short and pantingly between her teeth. +Oxon’s fair face was white with passion; he panted also, but strained +every nerve to keep at her side, and kept there.</p> +<p>“Keep back! I warn thee!” she cried once, almost +gasping.</p> +<p>“Keep back!” he answered, blind with rage. “I +will follow thee to hell!”</p> +<p>And in this wise they galloped over the white road until the hedges +disappeared and they were in the streets, and people turned to look +at them, and even stood and stared. Then she drew rein a little +and went slower, knowing with shuddering agony that the trap was closing +about her.</p> +<p>“What is it that you would say to me?” she asked him +breathlessly.</p> +<p>“That which I would say within four walls that you may hear +it all,” he answered. “This time ’tis not idle +threatening. I have a thing to show you.”</p> +<p>Through the streets they went, and as her horse’s hoofs beat +the pavement, and the passers-by, looking towards her, gazed curiously +at so fine a lady on so splendid a brute, she lifted her eyes to the +houses, the booths, the faces, and the sky, with a strange fancy that +she looked about her as a man looks who, doomed to death, is being drawn +in his cart to Tyburn tree. For ’twas to death she went, +nor to naught else could she compare it, and she was so young and strong, +and full of love and life, and there should have been such bliss and +peace before her but for one madness of her all-unknowing days. +And this beside her—this man with the fair face and looks and +beauteous devil’s eyes, was her hangman, and carried his rope +with him, and soon would fit it close about her neck.</p> +<p>When they rode through the part of the town where abode the World +of Fashion, those who saw them knew them, and marvelled that the two +should be together.</p> +<p>“But perhaps his love has made him sue for pardon that he has +so borne himself,” some said, “and she has chosen to be +gracious to him, since she is gracious in these days to all.”</p> +<p>When they reached her house he dismounted with her, wearing an outward +air of courtesy; but his eye mocked her, as she knew. His horse +was in a lather of sweat, and he spoke to a servant.</p> +<p>“Take my beast home,” he said. “He is too +hot to stand, and I shall not soon be ready.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI—Dealing with that which was done in the Panelled +Parlour</h2> +<p>He followed her to the Panelled Parlour, the one to which she had +taken Osmonde on the day of their bliss, the one in which in the afternoon +she received those who came to pay court to her over a dish of tea. +In the mornings none entered it but herself or some invited guest. +’Twas not the room she would have chosen for him; but when he +said to her, “’Twere best your ladyship took me to some +private place,” she had known there was no other so safe.</p> +<p>When the door was closed behind them, and they stood face to face, +they were a strange pair to behold—she with mad defiance battling +with mad despair in her face; he with the mocking which every woman +who had ever trusted him or loved him had lived to see in his face when +all was lost. Few men there lived who were as vile as he, his +power of villainy lying in that he knew not the meaning of man’s +shame or honour.</p> +<p>“Now,” she said, “tell me the worst.”</p> +<p>“’Tis not so bad,” he answered, “that a man +should claim his own, and swear that no other man shall take it from +him. That I have sworn, and that I will hold to.”</p> +<p>“Your own!” she said—“your own you call it—villain!”</p> +<p>“My own, since I can keep it,” quoth he. “Before +you were my Lord of Dunstanwolde’s you were mine—of your +own free will.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay,” she cried. “God! through some +madness I knew not the awfulness of—because I was so young and +had known naught but evil—and you were so base and wise.”</p> +<p>“Was your ladyship an innocent?” he answered. “It +seemed not so to me.”</p> +<p>“An innocent of all good,” she cried—“of +all things good on earth—of all that I know now, having seen manhood +and honour.”</p> +<p>“His Grace of Osmonde has not been told this,” he said; +“and I should make it all plain to him.”</p> +<p>“What do you ask, devil?” she broke forth. “What +is’t you ask?”</p> +<p>“That you shall not be the Duchess of Osmonde,” he said, +drawing near to her; “that you shall be the wife of Sir John Oxon, +as you once called yourself for a brief space, though no priest had +mumbled over us—”</p> +<p>“Who was’t divorced us?” she said, gasping; “for +I was an honest thing, though I knew no other virtue. Who was’t +divorced us?”</p> +<p>“I confess,” he answered, bowing, “that ’twas +I—for the time being. I was young, and perhaps fickle—”</p> +<p>“And you left me,” she cried, “and I found that +you had come but for a bet—and since I so bore myself that you +could not boast, and since I was not a rich woman whose fortune would +be of use to you, you followed another and left me—me!”</p> +<p>“As his Grace of Osmonde will when I tell him my story,” +he answered. “He is not one to brook that such things can +be told of the mother of his heirs.”</p> +<p>She would have shrieked aloud but that she clutched her throat in +time.</p> +<p>“Tell him!” she cried, “tell him, and see if he +will hear you. Your word against mine!”</p> +<p>“Think you I do not know that full well,” he answered, +and he brought forth a little package folded in silk. “Why +have I done naught but threaten till this time? If I went to him +without proof, he would run me through with his sword as I were a mad +dog. But is there another woman in England from whose head her +lover could ravish a lock as long and black as this?”</p> +<p>He unfolded the silk, and let other silk unfold itself, a great and +thick ring of raven hair which uncoiled its serpent length, and though +he held it high, was long enough after surging from his hand to lie +upon the floor.</p> +<p>“Merciful God!” she cried, and shuddering, hid her face.</p> +<p>“’Twas a bet, I own,” he said; “I heard too +much of the mad beauty and her disdain of men not to be fired by a desire +to prove to her and others, that she was but a woman after all, and +so was to be won. I took an oath that I would come back some day +with a trophy—and this I cut when you knew not that I did it.”</p> +<p>She clutched her throat again to keep from shrieking in her—impotent +horror.</p> +<p>“Devil, craven, and loathsome—and he knows not what he +is!” she gasped. “He is a mad thing who knows not +that all his thoughts are of hell.”</p> +<p>’Twas, in sooth, a strange and monstrous thing to see him so +unwavering and bold, flinching before no ignominy, shrinking not to +speak openly the thing before the mere accusation of which other men’s +blood would have boiled.</p> +<p>“When I bore it away with me,” he said, “I lived +wildly for a space, and in those days put it in a place of safety, and +when I was sober again I had forgot where. Yesterday, by a strange +chance, I came upon it. Think you it can be mistaken for any other +woman’s hair?”</p> +<p>At this she held up her hand.</p> +<p>“Wait,” she said. “You will go to Osmonde, +you will tell him this, you will—”</p> +<p>“I will tell him all the story of the rose garden and of the +sun-dial, and the beauty who had wit enough to scorn a man in public +that she might more safely hold tryst with him alone. She had +great wit and cunning for a beauty of sixteen. ’Twould be +well for her lord to have keen eyes when she is twenty.”</p> +<p>He should have seen the warning in her eyes, for there was warning +enough in their flaming depths.</p> +<p>“All that you can say I know,” she said—“all +that you can say! And I love him. There is no other man +on earth. Were he a beggar, I would tramp the highroad by his +side and go hungered with him. He is my lord, and I his mate—his +mate!”</p> +<p>“That you will not be,” he answered, made devilish by +her words. “He is a high and noble gentleman, and wants +no man’s cast-off plaything for his wife.”</p> +<p>Her breast leaped up and down in her panting as she pressed her hand +upon it; her breath came in sharp puffs through her nostrils.</p> +<p>“And once,” she breathed—“and once—I +<i>loved</i> thee—cur!”</p> +<p>He was mad with exultant villainy and passion, and he broke into +a laugh.</p> +<p>“Loved me!” he said. “Thou! As thou +lovedst me—and as thou lovest him—so will Moll Easy love +any man—for a crown.”</p> +<p>Her whip lay upon the table, she caught and whirled it in the air. +She was blind with the surging of her blood, and saw not how she caught +or held it, or what she did—only that she struck!</p> +<p>And ’twas his temple that the loaded weapon met, and ’twas +wielded by a wrist whose sinews were of steel, and even as it struck +he gasped, casting up his hands, and thereupon fell, and lay stretched +at her feet!</p> +<p>But the awful tempest which swept over her had her so under its dominion +that she was like a branch whirled on the wings of the storm. +She scarce noted that he fell, or noting it, gave it not one thought +as she dashed from one end of the apartment to the other with the fierce +striding of a mad woman.</p> +<p>“Devil!” she cried, “and cur! and for thee I blasted +all the years to come! To a beast so base I gave all that an empress’ +self could give—all life—all love—for ever. +And he comes back—shameless—to barter like a cheating huckster, +because his trade goes ill, and I—I could stock his counters once +again.”</p> +<p>She strode towards him, raving.</p> +<p>“Think you I do not know, woman’s bully and poltroon, +that you plot to sell yourself, because your day has come, and no woman +will bid for such an outcast, saving one that you may threaten. +Rise, vermin—rise, lest I kill thee!”</p> +<p>In her blind madness she lashed him once across the face again. +And he stirred not—and something in the resistless feeling of +the flesh beneath the whip, and in the quiet of his lying, caused her +to pause and stand panting and staring at the thing which lay before +her. For it was a Thing, and as she stood staring, with wild heaving +breast, this she saw. ’Twas but a thing—a thing lying +inert, its fair locks outspread, its eyes rolled upward till the blue +was almost lost; a purple indentation on the right temple from which +there oozed a tiny thread of blood.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>“There will be a way,” she had said, and yet in her most +mad despair, of this way she had never thought; though strange it had +been, considering her lawless past, that she had not—never of +this way—never! Notwithstanding which, in one frenzied moment +in which she had known naught but her delirium, her loaded whip had +found it for her—the way!</p> +<p>And yet it being so found, and she stood staring, seeing what she +had done—seeing what had befallen—’twas as if the +blow had been struck not at her own temple but at her heart—a +great and heavy shock, which left her bloodless, and choked, and gasping.</p> +<p>“What! what!” she panted. “Nay! nay! nay!” +and her eyes grew wide and wild.</p> +<p>She sank upon her knees, so shuddering that her teeth began to chatter. +She pushed him and shook him by the shoulder.</p> +<p>“Stir!” she cried in a loud whisper. “Move +thee! Why dost thou lie so? Stir!”</p> +<p>Yet he stirred not, but lay inert, only with his lips drawn back, +showing his white teeth a little, as if her horrid agony made him begin +to laugh. Shuddering, she drew slowly nearer, her eyes more awful +than his own. Her hand crept shaking to his wrist and clutched +it. There was naught astir—naught! It stole to his +breast, and baring it, pressed close. That was still and moveless +as his pulse; for life was ended, and a hundred mouldering years would +not bring more of death.</p> +<p>“I have <i>killed</i> thee,” she breathed. “I +have <i>killed</i> thee—though I meant it not—even hell +itself doth know. Thou art a dead man—and this is the worst +of all!”</p> +<p>His hand fell heavily from hers, and she still knelt staring, such +a look coming into her face as throughout her life had never been there +before—for ’twas the look of a creature who, being tortured, +the worst at last being reached, begins to smile at Fate.</p> +<p>“I have killed him!” she said, in a low, awful voice; +“and he lies here—and outside people walk, and know not. +But <i>he</i> knows—and I—and as he lies methinks he smiles—knowing +what he has done!”</p> +<p>She crouched even lower still, the closer to behold him, and indeed +it seemed his still face sneered as if defying her now to rid herself +of him! ’Twas as though he lay there mockingly content, +saying, “Now that I lie here, ’tis for <i>you</i>—for +<i>you</i> to move me.”</p> +<p>She rose and stood up rigid, and all the muscles of her limbs were +drawn as though she were a creature stretched upon a rack; for the horror +of this which had befallen her seemed to fill the place about her, and +leave her no air to breathe nor light to see.</p> +<p>“Now!” she cried, “if I would give way—and +go mad, as I could but do, for there is naught else left—if I +would but give way, that which is I—and has lived but a poor score +of years—would be done with for all time. All whirls before +me. ’Twas I who struck the blow—and I am a woman—and +I could go raving—and cry out and call them in, and point to him, +and tell them how ’twas done—all!—all!”</p> +<p>She choked, and clutched her bosom, holding its heaving down so fiercely +that her nails bruised it through her habit’s cloth; for she felt +that she had begun to rave already, and that the waves of such a tempest +were arising as, if not quelled at their first swell, would sweep her +from her feet and engulf her for ever.</p> +<p>“That—that!” she gasped—“nay—that +I swear I will not do! There was always One who hated me—and +doomed and hunted me from the hour I lay ’neath my dead mother’s +corpse, a new-born thing. I know not whom it was—or why—or +how—but ’twas so! I was made evil, and cast helpless +amid evil fates, and having done the things that were ordained, and +there was no escape from, I was shown noble manhood and high honour, +and taught to worship, as I worship now. An angel might so love +and be made higher. And at the gate of heaven a devil grins at +me and plucks me back, and taunts and mires me, and I fall—on +<i>this</i>!”</p> +<p>She stretched forth her arms in a great gesture, wherein it seemed +that surely she defied earth and heaven.</p> +<p>“No hope—no mercy—naught but doom and hell,” +she cried, “unless the thing that is tortured be the stronger. +Now—unless Fate bray me small—the stronger I will be!”</p> +<p>She looked down at the thing before her. How its stone face +sneered, and even in its sneering seemed to disregard her. She +knelt by it again, her blood surging through her body, which had been +cold, speaking as if she would force her voice to pierce its deadened +ear.</p> +<p>“Ay, mock!” she said, setting her teeth, “thinking +that I am conquered—yet am I not! ’Twas an honest +blow struck by a creature goaded past all thought! Ay, mock—and +yet, but for one man’s sake, would I call in those outside and +stand before them, crying: ‘Here is a villain whom I struck in +madness—and he lies dead! I ask not mercy, but only justice.’”</p> +<p>She crouched still nearer, her breath and words coming hard and quick. +’Twas indeed as if she spoke to a living man who heard—as +if she answered what he had said.</p> +<p>“There would be men in England who would give it me,” +she raved, whispering. “That would there, I swear! +But there would be dullards and dastards who would not. He would +give it—he! Ay, mock as thou wilt! But between his +high honour and love and me thy carrion <i>shall</i> not come!”</p> +<p>By her great divan the dead man had fallen, and so near to it he +lay that one arm was hidden by the draperies; and at this moment this +she saw—before having seemed to see nothing but the death in his +face. A thought came to her like a flame lit on a sudden, and +springing high the instant the match struck the fuel it leaped from. +It was a thought so daring and so strange that even she gasped once, +being appalled, and her hands, stealing to her brow, clutched at the +hair that grew there, feeling it seem to rise and stand erect.</p> +<p>“Is it madness to so dare?” she said hoarsely, and for +an instant, shuddering, hid her eyes, but then uncovered and showed +them burning. “Nay! not as I will dare it,” she said, +“for it will make me steel. You fell well,” she said +to the stone-faced thing, “and as you lie there, seem to tell +me what to do, in your own despite. You would not have so helped +me had you known. Now ’tis ’twixt Fate and I—a +human thing—who is but a hunted woman.”</p> +<p>She put her strong hand forth and thrust him—he was already +stiffening—backward from the shoulder, there being no shrinking +on her face as she felt his flesh yield beneath her touch, for she had +passed the barrier lying between that which is mere life and that which +is pitiless hell, and could feel naught that was human. A poor +wild beast at bay, pressed on all sides by dogs, by huntsmen, by resistless +weapons, by Nature’s pitiless self—glaring with bloodshot +eyes, panting, with fangs bared in the savagery of its unfriended agony—might +feel thus. ’Tis but a hunted beast; but ’tis alone, +and faces so the terror and anguish of death.</p> +<p>The thing gazing with its set sneer, and moving but stiffly, she +put forth another hand upon its side and thrust it farther backward +until it lay stretched beneath the great broad seat, its glazed and +open eyes seeming to stare upward blankly at the low roof of its strange +prison; she thrust it farther backward still, and letting the draperies +fall, steadily and with care so rearranged them that all was safe and +hid from sight.</p> +<p>“Until to-night,” she said, “you will lie well +there. And then—and then—”</p> +<p>She picked up the long silken lock of hair which lay like a serpent +at her feet, and threw it into the fire, watching it burn, as all hair +burns, with slow hissing, and she watched it till ’twas gone.</p> +<p>Then she stood with her hands pressed upon her eyeballs and her brow, +her thoughts moving in great leaps. Although it reeled, the brain +which had worked for her ever, worked clear and strong, setting before +her what was impending, arguing her case, showing her where dangers +would arise, how she must provide against them, what she must defend +and set at defiance. The power of will with which she had been +endowed at birth, and which had but grown stronger by its exercise, +was indeed to be compared to some great engine whose lever ’tis +not nature should be placed in human hands; but on that lever her hand +rested now, and to herself she vowed she would control it, since only +thus might she be saved. The torture she had undergone for months, +the warring of the evil past with the noble present, of that which was +sweet and passionately loving woman with that which was all but devil, +had strung her to a pitch so intense and high that on the falling of +this unnatural and unforeseen blow she was left scarce a human thing. +Looking back, she saw herself a creature doomed from birth; and here +in one moment seemed to stand a force ranged in mad battle with the +fate which had doomed her.</p> +<p>“’Twas ordained that the blow should fall so,” +she said, “and those who did it laugh—laugh at me.”</p> +<p>’Twas but a moment, and her sharp breathing became even and +regular as though at her command; her face composed itself, and she +turned to the bell and rang it as with imperious haste.</p> +<p>When the lacquey entered, she was standing holding papers in her +hand as if she had but just been consulting them.</p> +<p>“Follow Sir John Oxon,” she commanded. “Tell +him I have forgot an important thing and beg him to return at once. +Lose no time. He has but just left me and can scarce be out of +sight.”</p> +<p>The fellow saw there was no time to lose. They all feared that +imperial eye of hers and fled to obey its glances. Bowing, he +turned, and hastened to do her bidding, fearing to admit that he had +not seen the guest leave, because to do so would be to confess that +he had been absent from his post, which was indeed the truth.</p> +<p>She knew he would come back shortly, and thus he did, entering somewhat +breathed by his haste.</p> +<p>“My lady,” he said, “I went quickly to the street, +and indeed to the corner of it, but Sir John was not within sight.”</p> +<p>“Fool, you were not swift enough!” she said angrily. +“Wait, you must go to his lodgings with a note. The matter +is of importance.”</p> +<p>She went to a table—’twas close to the divan, so close +that if she had thrust forth her foot she could have touched what lay +beneath it—and wrote hastily a few lines. They were to request +that which was stiffening within three feet of her to return to her +as quickly as possible that she might make inquiries of an important +nature which she had forgotten at his departure.</p> +<p>“Take this to Sir John’s lodgings,” she said. +“Let there be no loitering by the way. Deliver into his +own hands, and bring back at once his answer.”</p> +<p>Then she was left alone again, and being so left, paced the room +slowly, her gaze upon the floor.</p> +<p>“That was well done,” she said. “When he +returns and has not found him, I will be angered, and send him again +to wait.”</p> +<p>She stayed her pacing, and passed her hand across her face.</p> +<p>“’Tis like a nightmare,” she said—“as +if one dreamed, and choked, and panted, and would scream aloud, but +could not. I cannot! I must not! Would that I might +shriek, and dash myself upon the floor, and beat my head upon it until +I lay—as <i>he</i> does.”</p> +<p>She stood a moment, breathing fast, her eyes widening, that part +of her which was weak woman for the moment putting her in parlous danger, +realising the which she pressed her sides with hands that were of steel.</p> +<p>“Wait! wait!” she said to herself. “This +is going mad. This is loosening hold, and being beaten by that +One who hates me and laughs to see what I have come to.”</p> +<p>Naught but that unnatural engine of will could have held her within +bounds and restrained the mounting female weakness that beset her; but +this engine being stronger than all else, it beat her womanish and swooning +terrors down.</p> +<p>“Through this one day I must live,” she said, “and +plan, and guard each moment that doth pass. My face must tell +no tale, my voice must hint none. He will be still—God knows +he will be still enough.”</p> +<p>Upon the divan itself there had been lying a little dog; ’twas +a King Charles’ spaniel, a delicate pampered thing, which attached +itself to her, and was not easily driven away. Once during the +last hour the fierce, ill-hushed voices had disturbed it, and it had +given vent to a fretted bark, but being a luxurious little beast, it +had soon curled up among its cushions and gone to sleep again. +But as its mistress walked about muttering low words and ofttimes breathing +sharp breaths, it became disturbed again. Perhaps through some +instinct of which naught is known by human creatures, it felt the strange +presence of a thing which roused it. It stirred, at first drowsily, +and lifted its head and sniffed; then it stretched its limbs, and having +done so, stood up, turning on its mistress a troubled eye, and this +she saw and stopped to meet it. ’Twas a strange look she +bestowed upon it, a startled and fearful one; her thought drew the blood +up to her cheek, but backward again it flowed when the little beast +lifted its nose and gave a low but woeful howl. Twice it did this, +and then jumped down, and standing before the edge of the couch, stood +there sniffing.</p> +<p>There was no mistake, some instinct of which it knew not the meaning +had set it on, and it would not be thrust back. In all beasts +this strange thing has been remarked—that they know that which +ends them all, and so revolt against it that they cannot be at rest +so long as it is near them, but must roar, or whinny, or howl until +’tis out of the reach of their scent. And so ’twas +plain this little beast knew and was afraid and restless. He would +not let it be, but roved about, sniffing and whining, and not daring +to thrust his head beneath the falling draperies, but growing more and +yet more excited and terrified, until at last he stopped, raised head +in air, and gave vent to a longer, louder, and more dolorous howl, and +albeit to one with so strange and noticeable a sound that her heart +turned over in her breast as she stooped and caught him in her grasp, +and shuddered as she stood upright, holding him to her side, her hand +over his mouth. But he would not be hushed, and struggled to get +down as if indeed he would go mad unless he might get to the thing and +rave at it.</p> +<p>“If I send thee from the room thou wilt come back, poor Frisk,” +she said. “There will be no keeping thee away, and I have +never ordered thee away before. Why couldst thou not keep still? +Nay, ’twas not dog nature.”</p> +<p>That it was not so was plain by his struggles and the yelps but poorly +stifled by her grasp.</p> +<p>She put her hand about his little neck, turning, in sooth, very pale.</p> +<p>“Thou too, poor little beast,” she said. “Thou +too, who art so small a thing and never harmed me.”</p> +<p>When the lacquey came back he wore an air more timorous than before.</p> +<p>“Your ladyship,” he faltered, “Sir John had not +yet reached his lodgings. His servant knew not when he might expect +him.”</p> +<p>“In an hour go again and wait,” she commanded. +“He must return ere long if he has not left town.”</p> +<p>And having said this, pointed to a little silken heap which lay outstretched +limp upon the floor. “’Tis poor Frisk, who has had +some strange spasm, and fell, striking his head. He hath been +ailing for days, and howled loudly but an hour ago. Take him away, +poor beast.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII—Wherein his Grace of Osmonde’s courier +arrives from France</h2> +<p>The stronghold of her security lay in the fact that her household +so stood in awe of her, and that this room, which was one of the richest +and most beautiful, though not the largest, in the mansion, all her +servitors had learned to regard as a sort of sacred place in which none +dared to set foot unless invited or commanded to enter. Within +its four walls she read and wrote in the morning hours, no servant entering +unless summoned by her; and the apartment seeming, as it were, a citadel, +none approached without previous parley. In the afternoon the +doors were thrown open, and she entertained there such visitors as came +with less formality than statelier assemblages demanded. When +she went out of it this morning to go to her chamber that her habit +might be changed and her toilette made, she glanced about her with a +steady countenance.</p> +<p>“Until the babblers flock in to chatter of the modes and playhouses,” +she said, “all will be as quiet as the grave. Then I must +stand near, and plan well, and be in such beauty and spirit that they +will see naught but me.”</p> +<p>In the afternoon ’twas the fashion for those who had naught +more serious in their hands than the killing of time to pay visits to +each other’s houses, and drinking dishes of tea, to dispose of +their neighbours’ characters, discuss the playhouses, the latest +fashions in furbelows or commodes, and make love either lightly or with +serious intent. One may be sure that at my Lady Dunstanwolde’s +many dishes of Bohea were drunk, and many ogling glances and much witticism +exchanged. There was in these days even a greater following about +her than ever. A triumphant beauty on the verge of becoming a +great duchess is not like to be neglected by her acquaintance, and thus +her ladyship held assemblies both gay and brilliantly varied, which +were the delight of the fashionable triflers of the day.</p> +<p>This afternoon they flocked in greater numbers than usual. +The episode of the breaking of Devil, the unexpected return of his Grace +of Osmonde, the preparations for the union, had given an extra stimulant +to that interest in her ladyship which was ever great enough to need +none. Thereunto was added the piquancy of the stories of the noticeable +demeanour of Sir John Oxon, of what had seemed to be so plain a rebellion +against his fate, and also of my lady’s open and cold displeasure +at the manner of his bearing himself as a disappointed man who presumed +to show anger against that to which he should gallantly have been resigned, +as one who is conquered by the chance of war. Those who had beheld +the two ride homeward together in the morning, were full of curiousness, +and one and another, mentioning the matter, exchanged glances, speaking +plainly of desire to know more of what had passed, and of hope that +chance might throw the two together again in public, where more of interest +might be gathered. It seemed indeed not unlikely that Sir John +might appear among the tea-bibbers, and perchance ’twas for this +lively reason that my lady’s room was this afternoon more than +usually full of gay spirits and gossip-loving ones.</p> +<p>They found, however, only her ladyship’s self and her sister, +Mistress Anne, who, of truth, did not often join her tea-parties, finding +them so given up to fashionable chatter and worldly witticisms that +she felt herself somewhat out of place. The world knew Mistress +Anne but as a dull, plain gentlewoman, whom her more brilliant and fortunate +sister gave gracious protection to, and none missed her when she was +absent, or observed her greatly when she appeared upon the scene. +To-day she was perchance more observed than usual, because her pallor +was so great a contrast to her ladyship’s splendour of beauty +and colour. The contrast between them was ever a great one; but +this afternoon Mistress Anne’s always pale countenance seemed +almost livid, there were rings of pain or illness round her eyes, and +her features looked drawn and pinched. My Lady Dunstanwolde, clad +in a great rich petticoat of crimson flowered satin, with wondrous yellow +Mechlin for her ruffles, and with her glorious hair dressed like a tower, +looked taller, more goddess-like and full of splendid fire than ever +she had been before beheld, or so her visitors said to her and to each +other; though, to tell the truth, this was no new story, she being one +of those women having the curious power of inspiring the beholder with +the feeling each time he encountered them that he had never before seen +them in such beauty and bloom.</p> +<p>When she had come down the staircase from her chamber, Anne, who +had been standing at the foot, had indeed started somewhat at the sight +of her rich dress and brilliant hues.</p> +<p>“Why do you jump as if I were a ghost, Anne?” she asked. +“Do I look like one? My looking-glass did not tell me so.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Anne; “you—are so—so crimson +and splendid—and I—”</p> +<p>Her ladyship came swiftly down the stairs to her.</p> +<p>“You are not crimson and splendid,” she said. “’Tis +you who are a ghost. What is it?”</p> +<p>Anne let her soft, dull eyes rest upon her for a moment helplessly, +and when she replied her voice sounded weak.</p> +<p>“I think—I am ill, sister,” she said. “I +seem to tremble and feel faint.”</p> +<p>“Go then to bed and see the physician. You must be cared +for,” said her ladyship. “In sooth, you look ill indeed.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Anne; “I beg you, sister, this afternoon +let me be with you; it will sustain me. You are so strong—let +me—”</p> +<p>She put out her hand as if to touch her, but it dropped at her side +as though its strength was gone.</p> +<p>“But there will be many babbling people,” said her sister, +with a curious look. “You do not like company, and these +days my rooms are full. ’Twill irk and tire you.”</p> +<p>“I care not for the people—I would be with you,” +Anne said, in strange imploring. “I have a sick fancy that +I am afraid to sit alone in my chamber. ’Tis but weakness. +Let me this afternoon be with you.”</p> +<p>“Go then and change your robe,” said Clorinda, “and +put some red upon your cheeks. You may come if you will. +You are a strange creature, Anne.”</p> +<p>And thus saying, she passed into her apartment. As there are +blows and pain which end in insensibility or delirium, so there are +catastrophes and perils which are so great as to produce something near +akin to these. As she had stood before her mirror in her chamber +watching her reflection, while her woman attired her in her crimson +flowered satin and builded up her stately head-dress, this other woman +had felt that the hour when she could have shrieked and raved and betrayed +herself had passed by, and left a deadness like a calm behind, as though +horror had stunned all pain and yet left her senses clear. She +forgot not the thing which lay staring upward blankly at the under part +of the couch which hid it—the look of its fixed eyes, its outspread +locks, and the purple indentation on the temple she saw as clearly as +she had seen them in that first mad moment when she had stood staring +downward at the thing itself; but the coursing of her blood was stilled, +the gallop of her pulses, and that wild hysteric leaping of her heart +into her throat, choking her and forcing her to gasp and pant in that +way which in women must ever end in shrieks and cries and sobbing beatings +of the air. But for the feminine softness to which her nature +had given way for the first time, since the power of love had mastered +her, there was no thing of earth could have happened to her which would +have brought this rolling ball to her throat, this tremor to her body—since +the hour of her birth she had never been attacked by such a female folly, +as she would indeed have regarded it once; but now ’twas different—for +a while she had been a woman—a woman who had flung herself upon +the bosom of him who was her soul’s lord, and resting there, her +old rigid strength had been relaxed.</p> +<p>But ’twas not this woman who had known tender yielding who +returned to take her place in the Panelled Parlour, knowing of the companion +who waited near her unseen—for it was as her companion she thought +of him, as she had thought of him when he followed her in the Mall, +forced himself into her box at the play, or stood by her shoulder at +assemblies; he had placed himself by her side again, and would stay +there until she could rid herself of him.</p> +<p>“After to-night he will be gone, if I act well my part,” +she said, “and then may I live a freed woman.”</p> +<p>’Twas always upon the divan she took her place when she received +her visitors, who were accustomed to finding her enthroned there. +This afternoon when she came into the room she paused for a space, and +stood beside it, the parlour being yet empty. She felt her face +grow a little cold, as if it paled, and her under-lip drew itself tight +across her teeth.</p> +<p>“In a graveyard,” she said, “I have sat upon the +stone ledge of a tomb, and beneath there was—worse than this, +could I but have seen it. This is no more.”</p> +<p>When the Sir Humphreys and Lord Charleses, Lady Bettys and Mistress +Lovelys were announced in flocks, fluttering and chattering, she rose +from her old place to meet them, and was brilliant graciousness itself. +She hearkened to their gossipings, and though ’twas not her way +to join in them, she was this day witty in such way as robbed them of +the dulness in which sometimes gossip ends. It was a varied company +which gathered about her; but to each she gave his or her moment, and +in that moment said that which they would afterwards remember. +With those of the Court she talked royalty, the humours of her Majesty, +the severities of her Grace of Marlborough; with statesmen she spoke +with such intellect and discretion that they went away pondering on +the good fortune which had befallen one man when it seemed that it was +of such proportions as might have satisfied a dozen, for it seemed not +fair to them that his Grace of Osmonde, having already rank, wealth, +and fame, should have added to them a gift of such magnificence as this +beauteous woman would bring; with beaux and wits she made dazzling jests; +and to the beauties who desired their flatteries she gave praise so +adroit that they were stimulated to plume their feathers afresh and +cease to fear the rivalry of her loveliness.</p> +<p>And yet while she so bore herself, never once did she cease to feel +the presence of that which, lying near, seemed to her racked soul as +one who lay and listened with staring eyes which mocked; for there was +a thought which would not leave her, which was, that it could hear, +that it could see through the glazing on its blue orbs, and that knowing +itself bound by the moveless irons of death and dumbness it impotently +raged and cursed that it could not burst them and shriek out its vengeance, +rolling forth among her worshippers at their feet and hers.</p> +<p>“But he <i>can</i> not,” she said, within her clenched +teeth, again and again—“<i>that</i> he cannot.”</p> +<p>Once as she said this to herself she caught Anne’s eyes fixed +helplessly upon her, it seeming to be as the poor woman had said, that +her weakness caused her to desire to abide near her sister’s strength +and draw support from it; for she had remained at my lady’s side +closely since she had descended to the room, and now seemed to implore +some protection for which she was too timid to openly make request.</p> +<p>“You are too weak to stay, Anne,” her ladyship said. +“’Twould be better that you should retire.”</p> +<p>“I am weak,” the poor thing answered, in low tones—“but +not too weak to stay. I am always weak. Would that I were +of your strength and courage. Let me sit down—sister—here.” +She touched the divan’s cushions with a shaking hand, gazing upward +wearily—perchance remembering that this place seemed ever a sort +of throne none other than the hostess queen herself presumed to encroach +upon.</p> +<p>“You are too meek, poor sister,” quoth Clorinda. +“’Tis not a chair of coronation or the woolsack of a judge. +Sit! sit!—and let me call for wine!”</p> +<p>She spoke to a lacquey and bade him bring the drink, for even as +she sank into her place Anne’s cheeks grew whiter.</p> +<p>When ’twas brought, her ladyship poured it forth and gave it +to her sister with her own hand, obliging her to drink enough to bring +her colour back. Having seen to this, she addressed the servant +who had obeyed her order.</p> +<p>“Hath Jenfry returned from Sir John Oxon?” she demanded, +in that clear, ringing voice of hers, whose music ever arrested those +surrounding her, whether they were concerned in her speech or no; but +now all felt sufficient interest to prick up ears and hearken to what +was said.</p> +<p>“No, my lady,” the lacquey answered. “He +said that you had bidden him to wait.”</p> +<p>“But not all day, poor fool,” she said, setting down +Anne’s empty glass upon the salver. “Did he think +I bade him stand about the door all night? Bring me his message +when he comes.”</p> +<p>“’Tis ever thus with these dull serving folk,” +she said to those nearest her. “One cannot pay for wit with +wages and livery. They can but obey the literal word. Sir +John, leaving me in haste this morning, I forgot a question I would +have asked, and sent a lacquey to recall him.”</p> +<p>Anne sat upright.</p> +<p>“Sister—I pray you—another glass of wine.”</p> +<p>My lady gave it to her at once, and she drained it eagerly.</p> +<p>“Was he overtaken?” said a curious matron, who wished +not to see the subject closed.</p> +<p>“No,” quoth her ladyship, with a light laugh—“though +he must have been in haste, for the man was sent after him in but a +moment’s time. ’Twas then I told the fellow to go +later to his lodgings and deliver my message into Sir John’s own +hand, whence it seems that he thinks that he must await him till he +comes.”</p> +<p>Upon a table near there lay the loaded whip; for she had felt it +bolder to let it lie there as if forgotten, because her pulse had sprung +so at first sight of it when she came down, and she had so quailed before +the desire to thrust it away, to hide it from her sight. “And +that I quail before,” she had said, “I must have the will +to face—or I am lost.” So she had let it stay.</p> +<p>A languishing beauty, with melting blue eyes and a pretty fashion +of ever keeping before the world of her admirers her waxen delicacy, +lifted the heavy thing in her frail white hand.</p> +<p>“How can your ladyship wield it?” she said. “It +is so heavy for a woman—but your ladyship is—is not—”</p> +<p>“Not quite a woman,” said the beautiful creature, standing +at her full great height, and smiling down at this blue and white piece +of frailty with the flashing splendour of her eyes.</p> +<p>“Not quite a woman,” cried two wits at once. “A +goddess rather—an Olympian goddess.”</p> +<p>The languisher could not endure comparisons which so seemed to disparage +her ethereal charms. She lifted the weapon with a great effort, +which showed the slimness of her delicate fair wrist and the sweet tracery +of blue veins upon it.</p> +<p>“Nay,” she said lispingly, “it needs the muscle +of a great man to lift it. I could not hold it—much less +beat with it a horse.” And to show how coarse a strength +was needed and how far her femininity lacked such vigour, she dropped +it upon the floor—and it rolled beneath the edge of the divan.</p> +<p>“Now,” the thought shot through my lady’s brain, +as a bolt shoots from the sky—“now—he <i>laughs</i>!”</p> +<p>She had no time to stir—there were upon their knees three beaux +at once, and each would sure have thrust his arm below the seat and +rummaged, had not God saved her! Yes, ’twas of God she thought +in that terrible mad second—God!—and only a mind that is +not human could have told why.</p> +<p>For Anne—poor Mistress Anne—white-faced and shaking, +was before them all, and with a strange adroitness stooped,—and +thrust her hand below, and drawing the thing forth, held it up to view.</p> +<p>“’Tis here,” she said, “and in sooth, sister, +I wonder not at its falling—its weight is so great.”</p> +<p>Clorinda took it from her hand.</p> +<p>“I shall break no more beasts like Devil,” she said, +“and for quieter ones it weighs too much; I shall lay it by.”</p> +<p>She crossed the room and laid it upon a shelf.</p> +<p>“It was ever heavy—but for Devil. ’Tis done +with,” she said; and there came back to her face—which for +a second had lost hue—a flood of crimson so glowing, and a smile +so strange, that those who looked and heard, said to themselves that +’twas the thought of Osmonde who had so changed her, which made +her blush. But a few moments later they beheld the same glow mount +again. A lacquey entered, bearing a salver on which lay two letters. +One was a large one, sealed with a ducal coronet, and this she saw first, +and took in her hand even before the man had time to speak.</p> +<p>“His Grace’s courier has arrived from France,” +he said; “the package was ordered to be delivered at once.”</p> +<p>“It must be that his Grace returns earlier than we had hoped,” +she said, and then the other missive caught her eye.</p> +<p>“’Tis your ladyship’s own,” the lacquey explained +somewhat anxiously. “’Twas brought back, Sir John +not having yet come home, and Jenfry having waited three hours.”</p> +<p>“’Twas long enough,” quoth her ladyship. +“’Twill do to-morrow.”</p> +<p>She did not lay Osmonde’s letter aside, but kept it in her +hand, and seeing that she waited for their retirement to read it, her +guests began to make their farewells. One by one or in groups +of twos and threes they left her, the men bowing low, and going away +fretted by the memory of the picture she made—a tall and regal +figure in her flowered crimson, her stateliness seeming relaxed and +softened by the mere holding of the sealed missive in her hand. +But the women were vaguely envious, not of Osmonde, but of her before +whom there lay outspread as far as life’s horizon reached, a future +of such perfect love and joy; for Gerald Mertoun had been marked by +feminine eyes since his earliest youth, and had seemed to embody all +that woman’s dreams or woman’s ambitions or her love could +desire.</p> +<p>When the last was gone, Clorinda turned, tore her letter open, and +held it hard to her lips. Before she read a word she kissed it +passionately a score of times, paying no heed that Anne sate gazing +at her; and having kissed it so, she fell to reading it, her cheeks +warm with the glow of a sweet and splendid passion, her bosom rising +and falling in a tempest of tender, fluttering breaths—and ’twas +these words her eyes devoured:</p> +<blockquote><p>“If I should head this page I write to you ‘Goddess +and Queen, and Empress of my deepest soul,’ what more should I +be saying than ‘My Love’ and ‘My Clorinda,’ +since these express all the soul of man could crave for or his body +desire. The body and soul of me so long for thee, sweetheart, +and sweetest beautiful woman that the hand of Nature ever fashioned +for the joy of mortals, that I have had need to pray Heaven’s +help to aid me to endure the passing of the days that lie between me +and the hour which will make me the most strangely, rapturously, happy +man, not in England, not in the world, but in all God’s universe. +I must pray Heaven again, and indeed do and will, for humbleness which +shall teach me to remember that I am not deity, but mere man—mere +man—though I shall hold a goddess to my breast and gaze into eyes +which are like deep pools of Paradise, and yet answer mine with the +marvel of such love as none but such a soul could make a woman’s, +and so fit to mate with man’s. In the heavy days when I +was wont to gaze at you from afar with burning heart, my unceasing anguish +was that even high honour itself could not subdue and conquer the thoughts +which leaped within me even as my pulse leaped, and even as my pulse +could not be stilled unless by death. And one that for ever haunted—aye, +and taunted—me was the image of how your tall, beauteous body +would yield itself to a strong man’s arm, and your noble head +with its heavy tower of hair resting upon his shoulder—the centres +of his very being would be thrilled and shaken by the uplifting of such +melting eyes as surely man ne’er gazed within on earth before, +and the ripe and scarlet bow of a mouth so beauteous and so sweet with +womanhood. This beset me day and night, and with such torture +that I feared betimes my brain might reel and I become a lost and ruined +madman. And now—it is no more forbidden me to dwell upon +it—nay, I lie waking at night, wooing the picture to me, and at +times I rise from my dreams to kneel by my bedside and thank God that +He hath given me at last what surely is my own!—for so it seems to me, +my love, that each of us is but a part of the other, and that such forces +of Nature rush to meet together in us, that Nature herself would cry +out were we rent apart. If there were aught to rise like a ghost +between us, if there were aught that could sunder us—noble soul, +let us but swear that it shall weld us but the closer together, and +that locked in each other’s arms its blows shall not even make +our united strength to sway. Sweetest lady, your lovely lip will +curve in smiles, and you will say, ‘He is mad with his joy—my +Gerald’ (for never till my heart stops at its last beat and leaves +me still, a dead man, cold upon my bed, can I forget the music of your +speech when you spoke those words, ‘My Gerald! My Gerald.’) +And indeed I crave your pardon, for a man so filled with rapture cannot +be quite sane, and sometimes I wonder if I walk through the palace gardens +like one who is drunk, so does my brain reel. But soon, my heavenly, +noble love, my exile will be over, and this is in truth what my letter +is to tell you, that in four days your lacqueys will throw open your +doors to me and I shall enter, and being led to you, shall kneel at +your feet and kiss the hem of your robe, and then rise standing to fold +her who will so soon be my very wife to my throbbing breast.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Back to her face had come all the softness which had been lost, the +hard lines were gone, the tender curves had returned, her lashes looked +as if they were moist. Anne, sitting rigidly and gazing at her, +was afraid to speak, knowing that she was not for the time on earth, +but that the sound of a voice would bring her back to it, and that ’twas +well she should be away as long as she might.</p> +<p>She read the letter, not once, but thrice, dwelling upon every word, +’twas plain; and when she had reached the last one, turning back +the pages and beginning again. When she looked up at last, ’twas +with an almost wild little smile, for she had indeed for that one moment +forgotten.</p> +<p>“Locked in each other’s arms,” she said—“locked +in each other’s arms. My Gerald! My Gerald! +‘What surely is my own—my own’!”</p> +<p>Anne rose and came to her, laying her hand on her arm. She +spoke in a voice low, hushed, and strained.</p> +<p>“Come away, sister,” she said, “for a little while—come +away.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII—My Lady Dunstanwolde sits late alone and writes</h2> +<p>That she must leave the Panelled Parlour at her usual hour, or attract +attention by doing that to which her household was unaccustomed, she +well knew, her manner of life being ever stately and ceremonious in +its regularity. When she dined at home she and Anne partook of +their repast together in the large dining-room, the table loaded with +silver dishes and massive glittering glass, their powdered, gold-laced +lacqueys in attendance, as though a score of guests had shared the meal +with them. Since her lord’s death there had been nights +when her ladyship had sat late writing letters and reading documents +pertaining to her estates, the management of which, though in a measure +controlled by stewards and attorneys, was not left to them, as the business +of most great ladies is generally left to others. All papers were +examined by her, all leases and agreements clearly understood before +she signed them, and if there were aught unsatisfactory, both stewards +and lawyers were called to her presence to explain.</p> +<p>“Never did I—or any other man—meet with such a +head upon a woman’s shoulders,” her attorney said. +And the head steward of Dunstanwolde and Helversly learned to quake +at the sight of her bold handwriting upon the outside of a letter.</p> +<p>“Such a lady!” he said—“such a lady! +Lie to her if you can; palter if you know how; try upon her the smallest +honest shrewd trick, and see how it fares with you. Were it not +that she is generous as she is piercing of eye, no man could serve her +and make an honest living.”</p> +<p>She went to her chamber and was attired again sumptuously for dinner. +Before she descended she dismissed her woman for a space on some errand, +and when she was alone, drawing near to her mirror, gazed steadfastly +within it at her face. When she had read Osmonde’s letter +her cheeks had glowed; but when she had come back to earth, and as she +had sat under her woman’s hands at her toilette, bit by bit the +crimson had died out as she had thought of what was behind her and of +what lay before. The thing was so stiffly rigid by this time, +and its eyes still stared so. Never had she needed to put red +upon her cheeks before, Nature having stained them with such richness +of hue; but as no lady of the day was unprovided with her crimson, there +was a little pot among her toilette ornaments which contained all that +any emergency might require. She opened this small receptacle +and took from it the red she for the first time was in want of.</p> +<p>“I must not wear a pale face, God knows,” she said, and +rubbed the colour on her cheeks with boldness.</p> +<p>It would have seemed that she wore her finest crimson when she went +forth full dressed from her apartment; little Nero grinned to see her, +the lacqueys saying among themselves that his Grace’s courier +had surely brought good news, and that they might expect his master +soon. At the dinner-table ’twas Anne who was pale and ate +but little, she having put no red upon her cheeks, and having no appetite +for what was spread before her. She looked strangely as though +she were withered and shrunken, and her face seemed even wrinkled. +My lady had small leaning towards food, but she sent no food away untouched, +forcing herself to eat, and letting not the talk flag—though it +was indeed true that ’twas she herself who talked, Mistress Anne +speaking rarely; but as it was always her way to be silent, and a listener +rather than one who conversed, this was not greatly noticeable.</p> +<p>Her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde talked of her guests of the afternoon, +and was charming and witty in her speech of them; she repeated the <i>mots</i> +of the wits, and told some brilliant stories of certain modish ladies +and gentlemen of fashion; she had things to say of statesmen and politics, +and was sparkling indeed in speaking of the lovely languisher whose +little wrist was too delicate and slender to support the loaded whip. +While she talked, Mistress Anne’s soft, dull eyes were fixed upon +her with a sort of wonder which had some of the quality of bewilderment; +but this was no new thing either, for to the one woman the other was +ever something to marvel at.</p> +<p>“It is because you are so quiet a mouse, Anne,” my lady +said, with her dazzling smile, “that you seem never in the way; +and yet I should miss you if I knew you were not within the house. +When the duke takes me to Camylotte you must be with me even then. +It is so great a house that in it I can find you a bower in which you +can be happy even if you see us but little. ’Tis a heavenly +place I am told, and of great splendour and beauty. The park and +flower-gardens are the envy of all England.”</p> +<p>“You—will be very happy, sister,” said Anne, “and—and +like a queen.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” was her sister’s answer—“yes.” +And ’twas spoken with a deep in-drawn breath.</p> +<p>After the repast was ended she went back to the Panelled Parlour.</p> +<p>“You may sit with me till bedtime if you desire, Anne,” +she said; “but ’twill be but dull for you, as I go to sit +at work. I have some documents of import to examine and much writing +to do. I shall sit up late.” And upon this she turned +to the lacquey holding open the door for her passing through. +“If before half-past ten there comes a message from Sir John Oxon,” +she gave order, “it must be brought to me at once; but later I +must not be disturbed—it will keep until morning.”</p> +<p>Yet as she spoke there was before her as distinct a picture as ever +of what lay waiting and gazing in the room to which she went.</p> +<p>Until twelve o’clock she sat at her table, a despatch box by +her side, papers outspread before her. Within three feet of her +was the divan, but she gave no glance to it, sitting writing, reading, +and comparing documents. At twelve o’clock she rose and +rang the bell.</p> +<p>“I shall be later than I thought,” she said. “I +need none of you who are below stairs. Go you all to bed. +Tell my woman that she also may lie down. I will ring when I come +to my chamber and have need of her. There is yet no message from +Sir John?”</p> +<p>“None, my lady,” the man answered.</p> +<p>He went away with a relieved countenance, as she made no comment. +He knew that his fellows as well as himself would be pleased enough +to be released from duty for the night. They were a pampered lot, +and had no fancy for late hours when there were no great entertainments +being held which pleased them and gave them chances to receive vails.</p> +<p>Mistress Anne sat in a large chair, huddled into a small heap, and +looking colourless and shrunken. As she heard bolts being shot +and bars put up for the closing of the house, she knew that her own +dismissal was at hand. Doors were shut below stairs, and when +all was done the silence of night reigned as it does in all households +when those who work have gone to rest. ’Twas a common thing +enough, and yet this night there was one woman who felt the stillness +so deep that it made her breathing seem a sound too loud.</p> +<p>“Go to bed, Anne,” she said. “You have stayed +up too long.”</p> +<p>Anne arose from her chair and drew near to her.</p> +<p>“Sister,” said she, as she had said before, “let +me stay.”</p> +<p>She was a poor weak creature, and so she looked with her pale insignificant +face and dull eyes, a wisp of loose hair lying damp on her forehead. +She seemed indeed too weak a thing to stand even for a moment in the +way of what must be done this night, and ’twas almost irritating +to be stopped by her.</p> +<p>“Nay,” said my Lady Dunstanwolde, her beautiful brow +knitting as she looked at her. “Go to your chamber, Anne, +and to sleep. I must do my work, and finish to-night what I have +begun.”</p> +<p>“But—but—” Anne stammered, dominated again, +and made afraid, as she ever was, by this strong nature, “in this +work you must finish—is there not something I could do to—aid +you—even in some small and poor way. Is there—naught?”</p> +<p>“Naught,” answered Clorinda, her form drawn to its great +full height, her lustrous eyes darkening. “What should there +be that you could understand?”</p> +<p>“Not some small thing—not some poor thing?” Anne +said, her fingers nervously twisting each other, so borne down was she +by her awful timorousness, for awful it was indeed when she saw clouds +gather on her sister’s brow. “I have so loved you, +sister—I have so loved you that my mind is quickened somehow at +times, and I can understand more than would be thought—when I +hope to serve you. Once you said—once you said—”</p> +<p>She knew not then nor ever afterwards how it came to pass that in +that moment she found herself swept into her sister’s white arms +and strained against her breast, wherein she felt the wild heart bounding; +nor could she, not being given to subtle reasoning, have comprehended +the almost fierce kiss on her cheek nor the hot drops that wet it.</p> +<p>“I said that I believed that if you saw me commit murder,” +Clorinda cried, “you would love me still, and be my friend and +comforter.”</p> +<p>“I would, I would!” cried Anne.</p> +<p>“And I believe your word, poor, faithful soul—I do believe +it,” my lady said, and kissed her hard again, but the next instant +set her free and laughed. “But you will not be put to the +test,” she said, “for I have done none. And in two +days’ time my Gerald will be here, and I shall be safe—saved +and happy for evermore—for evermore. There, leave me! +I would be alone and end my work.”</p> +<p>And she went back to her table and sat beside it, taking her pen +to write, and Anne knew that she dare say no more, and turning, went +slowly from the room, seeing for her last sight as she passed through +the doorway, the erect and splendid figure at its task, the light from +the candelabras shining upon the rubies round the snow-white neck and +wreathed about the tower of raven hair like lines of crimson.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX—A piteous story is told, and the old cellars walled +in</h2> +<p>It is, indeed, strangely easy in the great world for a man to lose +his importance, and from having been the target for all eyes and the +subject of all conversation, to step from his place, or find it so taken +by some rival that it would seem, judging from the general obliviousness +to him, that he had never existed. But few years before no fashionable +gathering would have been felt complete had it not been graced by the +presence of the young and fascinating Lovelace, Sir John Oxon. +Women favoured him, and men made themselves his boon companions; his +wit was repeated; the fashion of his hair and the cut of his waistcoat +copied. He was at first rich and gay enough to be courted and +made a favourite; but when his fortune was squandered, and his marriage +with the heiress came to naught, those qualities which were vicious +and base in him were more easy to be seen. Besides, there came +new male beauties and new dandies with greater resources and more of +prudence, and these, beginning to set fashion, win ladies’ hearts, +and make conquests, so drew the attention of the public mind that he +was less noticeable, being only one of many, instead of ruling singly +as it had seemed that by some strange chance he did at first. +There were indeed so many stories told of his light ways, that their +novelty being worn off and new ones still repeated, such persons as +concerned themselves with matters of reputation either through conscience +or policy, began to speak of him with less of warmth or leniency.</p> +<p>“’Tis not well for a matron with daughters to marry and +with sons to keep an eye to,” it was said, “to have in her +household too often a young gentleman who has squandered his fortune +in dice and drink and wild living, and who ’twas known was cast +off by a reputable young lady of fortune.”</p> +<p>So there were fine ladies who began to avoid him, and those in power +at Court and in the world who regarded him with lessening favour day +by day! In truth, he had such debts, and his creditors pressed +him so ceaselessly, that even had the world’s favour continued, +his life must have changed its aspect greatly. His lodgings were +no longer the most luxurious in the fashionable part of the town, his +brocades and laces were no longer of the richest, nor his habit of the +very latest and most modish cut; he had no more an equipage attracting +every eye as he drove forth, nor a gentleman’s gentleman whose +swagger and pomp outdid that of all others in his world. Soon +after the breaking of his marriage with the heiress, his mother had +died, and his relatives being few, and those of an order strictly averse +to the habits of ill-provided and extravagant kinsmen, he had but few +family ties. Other ties he had, ’twas true, but they were +not such as were accounted legal or worthy of attention either by himself +or those related to him.</p> +<p>So it befell that when my Lady Dunstanwolde’s lacquey could +not find him at his lodgings, and as the days went past neither his +landlady nor his creditors beheld him again, his absence from the scene +was not considered unaccountable by them, nor did it attract the notice +it would have done in times gone by.</p> +<p>“He hath made his way out of England to escape us,” said +the angry tailors and mercers—who had besieged his door in vain +for months, and who were now infuriated at the thought of their own +easiness and the impudent gay airs which had befooled them. “A +good four hundred pounds of mine hath he carried with him,” said +one. “And two hundred of mine!” “And more +of mine, since I am a poor man to whom a pound means twenty guineas!” +“We are all robbed, and he has cheated the debtors’ prison, +wherein, if we had not been fools, he would have been clapped six months +ago.”</p> +<p>“Think ye he will not come back, gentlemen?” quavered +his landlady. “God knows when I have seen a guinea of his +money—but he was such a handsome, fine young nobleman, and had +such a way with a poor body, and ever a smile and a chuck o’ the +chin for my Jenny.”</p> +<p>“Look well after poor Jenny if he hath left her behind,” +said the tailor.</p> +<p>He did not come back, indeed; and hearing the rumour that he had +fled his creditors, the world of fashion received the news with small +disturbance, all modish persons being at that time much engaged in discussion +of the approaching nuptials of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde and the +Duke of Osmonde. Close upon the discussions of the preparations +came the nuptials themselves, and then all the town was agog, and had +small leisure to think of other things. For those who were bidden +to the ceremonials and attendant entertainments, there were rich habits +and splendid robes to be prepared; and to those who had not been bidden, +there were bitter disappointments and thwarted wishes to think of.</p> +<p>“Sir John Oxon has fled England to escape seeing and hearing +it all,” was said.</p> +<p>“He has fled to escape something more painful than the spleen,” +others answered. “He had reached his rope’s end, and +finding that my Lady Dunstanwolde was not of a mind to lengthen it with +her fortune, having taken a better man, and that his creditors would +have no more patience, he showed them a light pair of heels.”</p> +<p>Before my Lady Dunstanwolde left her house she gave orders that it +be set in order for closing for some time, having it on her mind that +she should not soon return. It was, however, to be left in such +condition that at any moment, should she wish to come to it, all could +be made ready in two days’ time. To this end various repairs +and changes she had planned were to be carried out as soon as she went +away from it. Among other things was the closing with brickwork +of the entrance to the passage leading to the unused cellars.</p> +<p>“’Twill make the servants’ part more wholesome +and less damp and draughty,” she said; “and if I should +sell the place, will be to its advantage. ’Twas a builder +with little wit who planned such passages and black holes. In +spite of all the lime spread there, they were ever mouldy and of evil +odour.”</p> +<p>It was her command that there should be no time lost, and men were +set at work, carrying bricks and mortar. It so chanced that one +of them, going in through a back entrance with a hod over his shoulder, +and being young and lively, found his eye caught by the countenance +of a pretty, frightened-looking girl, who seemed to be loitering about +watching, as if curious or anxious. Seeing her near each time +he passed, and observing that she wished to speak, but was too timid, +he addressed her—</p> +<p>“Would you know aught, mistress?” he said.</p> +<p>She drew nearer gratefully, and then he saw her eyes were red as +if with weeping.</p> +<p>“Think you her ladyship would let a poor girl speak a word +with her?” she said. “Think you I dare ask so much +of a servant—or would they flout me and turn me from the door? +Have you seen her? Does she look like a hard, shrewish lady?”</p> +<p>“That she does not, though all stand in awe of her,” +he answered, pleased to talk with so pretty a creature. “I +but caught a glimpse of her when she gave orders concerning the closing +with brick of a passage-way below. She is a tall lady, and grand +and stately, but she hath a soft pair of eyes as ever man would wish +to look into, be he duke or ditcher.”</p> +<p>The tears began to run down the girl’s cheeks.</p> +<p>“Ay!” she said; “all men love her, they say. +Many a poor girl’s sweetheart has been false through her—and +I thought she was cruel and ill-natured. Know you the servants +that wait on her? Would you dare to ask one for me, if he thinks +she would deign to see a poor girl who would crave the favour to be +allowed to speak to her of—of a gentleman she knows?”</p> +<p>“They are but lacqueys, and I would dare to ask what was in +my mind,” he answered; “but she is near her wedding-day, +and little as I know of brides’ ways, I am of the mind that she +will not like to be troubled.”</p> +<p>“That I stand in fear of,” she said; “but, oh! +I pray you, ask some one of them—a kindly one.”</p> +<p>The young man looked aside. “Luck is with you,” +he said. “Here comes one now to air himself in the sun, +having naught else to do. Here is a young woman who would speak +with her ladyship,” he said to the strapping powdered fellow.</p> +<p>“She had best begone,” the lacquey answered, striding +towards the applicant. “Think you my lady has time to receive +traipsing wenches.”</p> +<p>“’Twas only for a moment I asked,” the girl said. +“I come from—I would speak to her of—of Sir John Oxon—whom +she knows.”</p> +<p>The man’s face changed. It was Jenfry.</p> +<p>“Sir John Oxon,” he said. “Then I will ask +her. Had you said any other name I would not have gone near her +to-day.”</p> +<p>Her ladyship was in her new closet with Mistress Anne, and there +the lacquey came to her to deliver his errand.</p> +<p>“A country-bred young woman, your ladyship,” he said, +“comes from Sir John Oxon—”</p> +<p>“From Sir John Oxon!” cried Anne, starting in her chair.</p> +<p>My Lady Dunstanwolde made no start, but turned a steady countenance +towards the door, looking into the lacquey’s face.</p> +<p>“Then he hath returned?” she said.</p> +<p>“Returned!” said Anne.</p> +<p>“After the morning he rode home with me,” my lady answered, +“’twas said he went away. He left his lodgings without +warning. It seems he hath come back. What does the woman +want?” she ended.</p> +<p>“To speak with your ladyship,” replied the man, “of +Sir John himself, she says.”</p> +<p>“Bring her to me,” her ladyship commanded.</p> +<p>The girl was brought in, overawed and trembling. She was a +country-bred young creature, as the lacquey had said, being of the simple +rose-and-white freshness of seventeen years perhaps, and having childish +blue eyes and fair curling locks.</p> +<p>She was so frightened by the grandeur of her surroundings, and the +splendid beauty of the lady who was so soon to be a duchess, and was +already a great earl’s widow, that she could only stand within +the doorway, curtseying and trembling, with tears welling in her eyes.</p> +<p>“Be not afraid,” said my Lady Dunstanwolde. “Come +hither, child, and tell me what you want.” Indeed, she did +not look a hard or shrewish lady; she spoke as gently as woman could, +and a mildness so unexpected produced in the young creature such a revulsion +of feeling that she made a few steps forward and fell upon her knees, +weeping, and with uplifted hands.</p> +<p>“My lady,” she said, “I know not how I dared to +come, but that I am so desperate—and your ladyship being so happy, +it seemed—it seemed that you might pity me, who am so helpless +and know not what to do.”</p> +<p>Her ladyship leaned forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee, +her chin held in her hand, to gaze at her.</p> +<p>“You come from Sir John Oxon?” she said.</p> +<p>Anne, watching, clutched each arm of her chair.</p> +<p>“Not <i>from</i> him, asking your ladyship’s pardon,” +said the child, “but—but—from the country to him,” +her head falling on her breast, “and I know not where he is.”</p> +<p>“You came <i>to</i> him,” asked my lady. “Are +you,” and her speech was pitiful and slow—“are you +one of those whom he has—ruined?”</p> +<p>The little suppliant looked up with widening orbs.</p> +<p>“How could that be, and he so virtuous and pious a gentleman?” +she faltered.</p> +<p>Then did my lady rise with a sudden movement.</p> +<p>“Was he so?” says she.</p> +<p>“Had he not been,” the child answered, “my mother +would have been afraid to trust him. I am but a poor country widow’s +daughter, but was well brought up, and honestly—and when he came +to our village my mother was afraid, because he was a gentleman; but +when she saw his piety, and how he went to church and sang the psalms +and prayed for grace, she let me listen to him.”</p> +<p>“Did he go to church and sing and pray at first?” my +lady asks.</p> +<p>“’Twas in church he saw me, your ladyship,” she +was answered. “He said ’twas his custom to go always +when he came to a new place, and that often there he found the most +heavenly faces, for ’twas piety and innocence that made a face +like to an angel’s; and ’twas innocence and virtue stirred +his heart to love, and not mere beauty which so fades.”</p> +<p>“Go on, innocent thing,” my lady said; and she turned +aside to Anne, flashing from her eyes unseen a great blaze, and speaking +in a low and hurried voice. “God’s house,” she +said—“God’s prayers—God’s songs of praise—he +used them all to break a tender heart, and bring an innocent life to +ruin—and yet was he not struck dead?”</p> +<p>Anne hid her face and shuddered.</p> +<p>“He was a gentleman,” the poor young thing cried, sobbing—“and +I no fit match for him, but that he loved me. ’Tis said +love makes all equal; and he said I was the sweetest, innocent young +thing, and without me he could not live. And he told my mother +that he was not rich or the fashion now, and had no modish friends or +relations to flout any poor beauty he might choose to wed.”</p> +<p>“And he would marry you?” my lady’s voice broke +in. “He said that he would marry you?”</p> +<p>“A thousand times, your ladyship, and so told my mother, but +said I must come to town and be married at his lodgings, or ’twould +not be counted a marriage by law, he being a town gentleman, and I from +the country.”</p> +<p>“And you came,” said Mistress Anne, down whose pale cheeks +the tears were running—“you came at his command to follow +him?”</p> +<p>“What day came you up to town?” demands my lady, breathless +and leaning forward. “Went you to his lodgings, and stayed +you there with him,—even for an hour?”</p> +<p>The poor child gazed at her, paling.</p> +<p>“He was not there!” she cried. “I came alone +because he said all must be secret at first; and my heart beat so with +joy, my lady, that when the woman of the house whereat he lodges let +me in I scarce could speak. But she was a merry woman and good-natured, +and only laughed and cheered me when she took me to his rooms, and I +sate trembling.”</p> +<p>“What said she to you?” my lady asks, her breast heaving +with her breath.</p> +<p>“That he was not yet in, but that he would sure come to such +a young and pretty thing as I, and I must wait for him, for he would +not forgive her if she let me go. And the while I waited there +came a man in bands and cassock, but he had not a holy look, and late +in the afternoon I heard him making jokes with the woman outside, and +they both laughed in such an evil way that I was affrighted, and waiting +till they had gone to another part of the house, stole away.”</p> +<p>“But he came not back that night—thank God!” my +lady said—“he came not back.”</p> +<p>The girl rose from her knees, trembling, her hands clasped on her +breast.</p> +<p>“Why should your ladyship thank God?” she says, pure +drops falling from her eyes. “I am so humble, and had naught +else but that great happiness, and it was taken away—and you thank +God.”</p> +<p>Then drops fell from my lady’s eyes also, and she came forward +and caught the child’s hand, and held it close and warm and strong, +and yet with her full lip quivering.</p> +<p>“’Twas not that your joy was taken away that I thanked +God,” said she. “I am not cruel—God Himself +knows that, and when He smites me ’twill not be for cruelty. +I knew not what I said, and yet—tell me what did you then? +Tell me?”</p> +<p>“I went to a poor house to lodge, having some little money +he had given me,” the simple young thing answered. “’Twas +an honest house, though mean and comfortless. And the next day +I went back to his lodgings to question, but he had not come, and I +would not go in, though the woman tried to make me enter, saying, Sir +John would surely return soon, as he had the day before rid with my +Lady Dunstanwolde and been to her house; and ’twas plain he had +meant to come to his lodgings, for her ladyship had sent her lacquey +thrice with a message.”</p> +<p>The hand with which Mistress Anne sate covering her eyes began to +shake. My lady’s own hand would have shaken had she not +been so strong a creature.</p> +<p>“And he has not yet returned, then?” she asked. +“You have not seen him?”</p> +<p>The girl shook her fair locks, weeping with piteous little sobs.</p> +<p>“He has not,” she cried, “and I know not what to +do—and the great town seems full of evil men and wicked women. +I know not which way to turn, for all plot wrong against me, and would +drag me down to shamefulness—and back to my poor mother I cannot +go.”</p> +<p>“Wherefore not, poor child?” my lady asked her.</p> +<p>“I have not been made an honest, wedded woman, and none would +believe my story, and—and he might come back.”</p> +<p>“And if he came back?” said her ladyship.</p> +<p>At this question the girl slipped from her grasp and down upon her +knees again, catching at her rich petticoat and holding it, her eyes +searching the great lady’s in imploring piteousness, her own streaming.</p> +<p>“I love him,” she wept—“I love him so—I +cannot leave the place where he might be. He was so beautiful +and grand a gentleman, and, sure, he loved me better than all else—and +I cannot thrust away from me that last night when he held me to his +breast near our cottage door, and the nightingale sang in the roses, +and he spake such words to me. I lie and sob all night on my hard +pillow—I so long to see him and to hear his voice—and hearing +he had been with you that last morning, I dared to come, praying that +you might have heard him let drop some word that would tell me where +he may be, for I cannot go away thinking he may come back longing for +me—and I lose him and never see his face again. Oh! my lady, +my lady, this place is so full of wickedness and fierce people—and +dark kennels where crimes are done. I am affrighted for him, thinking +he may have been struck some blow, and murdered, and hid away; and none +will look for him but one who loves him—who loves him. Could +it be so?—could it be? You know the town’s ways so +well. I pray you, tell me—in God’s name I pray you!”</p> +<p>“God’s mercy!” Anne breathed, and from behind her +hands came stifled sobbing. My Lady Dunstanwolde bent down, her +colour dying.</p> +<p>“Nay, nay,” she said, “there has been no murder +done—none! Hush, poor thing, hush thee. There is somewhat +I must tell thee.”</p> +<p>She tried to raise her, but the child would not be raised, and clung +to her rich robe, shaking as she knelt gazing upward.</p> +<p>“It is a bitter thing,” my lady said, and ’twas +as if her own eyes were imploring. “God help you bear it—God +help us all. He told me nothing of his journey. I knew not +he was about to take it; but wheresoever he has travelled, ’twas +best that he should go.”</p> +<p>“Nay! nay!” the girl cried out—“to leave +me helpless. Nay! it could not be so. He loved me—loved +me—as the great duke loves you!”</p> +<p>“He meant you evil,” said my lady, shuddering, “and +evil he would have done you. He was a villain—a villain +who meant to trick you. Had God struck him dead that day, ’twould +have been mercy to you. I knew him well.”</p> +<p>The young thing gave a bitter cry and fell swooning at her feet; +and down upon her knees my lady went beside her, loosening her gown, +and chafing her poor hands as though they two had been of sister blood.</p> +<p>“Call for hartshorn, Anne, and for water,” she said; +“she will come out of her swooning, poor child, and if she is +cared for kindly in time her pain will pass away. God be thanked +she knows no pain that cannot pass! I will protect her—aye, +that will I, as I will protect all he hath done wrong to and deserted.”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>She was so strangely kind through the poor victim’s swoons +and weeping that the very menials who were called to aid her went back +to their hall wondering in their talk of the noble grandness of so great +a lady, who on the very brink of her own joy could stoop to protect +and comfort a creature so far beneath her, that to most ladies her sorrow +and desertion would have been things which were too trivial to count; +for ’twas guessed, and talked over with great freedom and much +shrewdness, that this was a country victim of Sir John Oxon’s, +and he having deserted his creditors, was ready enough to desert his +rustic beauty, finding her heavy on his hands.</p> +<p>Below stairs the men closing the entrance to the passage with brick, +having caught snatches of the servants’ gossip, talked of what +they heard among themselves as they did their work.</p> +<p>“Ay, a noble lady indeed,” they said. “For +’tis not a woman’s way to be kindly with the cast-off fancy +of a man, even when she does not want him herself. He was her +own worshipper for many a day, Sir John; and before she took the old +earl ’twas said that for a space people believed she loved him. +She was but fifteen and a high mettled beauty; and he as handsome as +she, and had a blue eye that would melt any woman—but at sixteen +he was a town rake, and such tricks as this one he hath played since +he was a lad. ’Tis well indeed for this poor thing her ladyship +hath seen her. She hath promised to protect her, and sends her +down to Dunstanwolde with her mother this very week. Would all +fine ladies were of her kind. To hear such things of her puts +a man in the humour to do her work well.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX—A noble marriage</h2> +<p>When the duke came back from France, and to pay his first eager visit +to his bride that was to be, her ladyship’s lacqueys led him not +to the Panelled Parlour, but to a room which he had not entered before, +it being one she had had the fancy to have remodelled and made into +a beautiful closet for herself, her great wealth rendering it possible +for her to accomplish changes without the loss of time the owners of +limited purses are subjected to in the carrying out of plans. +This room she had made as unlike the Panelled Parlour as two rooms would +be unlike one another. Its panellings were white, its furnishings +were bright and delicate, its draperies flowered with rosebuds tied +in clusters with love-knots of pink and blue; it had a large bow-window, +through which the sunlight streamed, and it was blooming with great +rose-bowls overrunning with sweetness.</p> +<p>From a seat in the morning sunshine among the flowers and plants +in the bow-window, there rose a tall figure in a snow-white robe—a +figure like that of a beautiful stately girl who was half an angel. +It was my lady, who came to him with blushing cheeks and radiant shining +eyes, and was swept into his arms in such a passion of love and blessed +tenderness as Heaven might have smiled to see.</p> +<p>“My love! my love!” he breathed. “My life! +my life and soul!”</p> +<p>“My Gerald!” she cried. “My Gerald—let +me say it on your breast a thousand times!”</p> +<p>“My wife!” he said—“so soon my wife and all +my own until life’s end.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay,” she cried, her cheek pressed to his own, +“through all eternity, for Love’s life knows no end.”</p> +<p>As it had seemed to her poor lord who had died, so it seemed to this +man who lived and so worshipped her—that the wonder of her sweetness +was a thing to marvel at with passionate reverence. Being a man +of greater mind and poetic imagination than Dunstanwolde, and being +himself adored by her, as that poor gentleman had not had the good fortune +to be, he had ten thousand-fold the power and reason to see the tender +radiance of her. As she was taller than other women, so her love +seemed higher and greater, and as free from any touch of earthly poverty +of feeling as her beauty was from any flaw. In it there could +be no doubt, no pride; it could be bounded by no limit, measured by +no rule, its depths sounded by no plummet.</p> +<p>His very soul was touched by her great longing to give to him the +feeling, and to feel herself, that from the hour that she had become +his, her past life was a thing blotted out.</p> +<p>“I am a new created thing,” she said; “until you +called me ‘Love’ I had no life! All before was darkness. +’Twas you, my Gerald, who said, ‘Let there be light, and +there was light.’”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, sweet love,” he said. “Your +words would make me too near God’s self.”</p> +<p>“Sure Love is God,” she cried, her hands upon his shoulders, +her face uplifted. “What else? Love we know; Love +we worship and kneel to; Love conquers us and gives us Heaven. +Until I knew it, I believed naught. Now I kneel each night and +pray, and pray, but to be pardoned and made worthy.”</p> +<p>Never before, it was true, had she knelt and prayed, but from this +time no nun in her convent knelt oftener or prayed more ardently, and +her prayer was ever that the past might be forgiven her, the future +blessed, and she taught how to so live that there should be no faintest +shadow in the years to come.</p> +<p>“I know not What is above me,” she said. “I +cannot lie and say I love It and believe, but if there is aught, sure +It must be a power which is great, else had the world not been so strange +a thing, and I—and those who live in it—and if He made us, +He must know He is to blame when He has made us weak or evil. +And He must understand why we have been so made, and when we throw ourselves +into the dust before Him, and pray for help and pardon, surely—surely +He will lend an ear! We know naught, we have been told naught; +we have but an old book which has been handed down through strange hands +and strange tongues, and may be but poor history. We have so little, +and we are threatened so; but for love’s sake I will pray the +poor prayers we are given, and for love’s sake there is no dust +too low for me to lie in while I plead.”</p> +<p>This was the strange truth—though ’twas not so strange +if the world feared not to admit such things—that through her +Gerald, who was but noble and high-souled man, she was led to bow before +God’s throne as the humblest and holiest saint bows, though she +had not learned belief and only had learned love.</p> +<p>“But life lasts so short a while,” she said to Osmonde. +“It seems so short when it is spent in such joy as this; and when +the day comes—for, oh! Gerald, my soul sees it already—when +the day comes that I kneel by your bedside and see your eyes close, +or you kneel by mine, it <i>must</i> be that the one who waits behind +shall know the parting is not all.”</p> +<p>“It could not be all, beloved,” Osmonde said. “Love +is sure, eternal.”</p> +<p>Often in these blissful hours her way was almost like a child’s, +she was so tender and so clinging. At times her beauteous, great +eyes were full of an imploring which made them seem soft with tears, +and thus they were now as she looked up at him.</p> +<p>“I will do all I can,” she said. “I will +obey every law, I will pray often and give alms, and strive to be dutiful +and—holy, that in the end He will not thrust me from you; that +I may stay near—even in the lowest place, even in the lowest—that +I may see your face and know that you see mine. We are so in His +power, He can do aught with us; but I will so obey Him and so pray that +He will let me in.”</p> +<p>To Anne she went with curious humility, questioning her as to her +religious duties and beliefs, asking her what books she read, and what +services she attended.</p> +<p>“All your life you have been a religious woman,” she +said. “I used to think it folly, but now—”</p> +<p>“But now—” said Anne.</p> +<p>“I know not what to think,” she answered. “I +would learn.”</p> +<p>But when she listened to Anne’s simple homilies, and read her +weighty sermons, they but made her restless and unsatisfied.</p> +<p>“Nay, ’tis not that,” she said one day, with a +deep sigh. “’Tis more than that; ’tis deeper, +and greater, and your sermons do not hold it. They but set my +brain to questioning and rebellion.”</p> +<p>But a short time elapsed before the marriage was solemnised, and +such a wedding the world of fashion had not taken part in for years, +’twas said. Royalty honoured it; the greatest of the land +were proud to count themselves among the guests; the retainers, messengers, +and company of the two great houses were so numerous that in the west +end of the town the streets wore indeed quite a festal air, with the +passing to and fro of servants and gentlefolk with favours upon their +arms.</p> +<p>’Twas to the Tower of Camylott, the most beautiful and remote +of the bridegroom’s several notable seats, that they removed their +household, when the irksomeness of the extended ceremonies and entertainments +were over—for these they were of too distinguished rank to curtail +as lesser personages might have done. But when all things were +over, the stately town houses closed, and their equipages rolled out +beyond the sight of town into the country roads, the great duke and +his great duchess sat hand in hand, gazing into each other’s eyes +with as simple and ardent a joy as they had been but young ’prentice +and country maid, flying to hide from the world their love.</p> +<p>“There is no other woman who is so like a queen,” Osmonde +said, with tenderest smiling. “And yet your eyes wear a +look so young in these days that they are like a child’s. +In all their beauty, I have never seen them so before.”</p> +<p>“It is because I am a new created thing, as I have told you, +love,” she answered, and leaned towards him. “Do you +not know I never was a child. I bring myself to you new born. +Make of me then what a woman should be—to be beloved of husband +and of God. Teach me, my Gerald. I am your child and servant.”</p> +<p>’Twas ever thus, that her words when they were such as these +were ended upon his breast as she was swept there by his impassioned +arm. She was so goddess-like and beautiful a being, her life one +strangely dominant and brilliant series of triumphs, and yet she came +to him with such softness and humility of passion, that scarcely could +he think himself a waking man.</p> +<p>“Surely,” he said, “it is a thing too wondrous +and too full of joy’s splendour to be true.”</p> +<p>In the golden afternoon, when the sun was deepening and mellowing +towards its setting, they and their retinue entered Camylott. +The bells pealed from the grey belfry of the old church; the villagers +came forth in clean smocks and Sunday cloaks of scarlet, and stood in +the street and by the roadside curtseying and baring their heads with +rustic cheers; little country girls with red cheeks threw posies before +the horses’ feet, and into the equipage itself when they were +of the bolder sort. Their chariot passed beneath archways of flowers +and boughs, and from the battlements of the Tower of Camylott there +floated a flag in the soft wind.</p> +<p>“God save your Graces,” the simple people cried. +“God give your Graces joy and long life! Lord, what a beautiful +pair they be. And though her Grace was said to be a proud lady, +how sweetly she smiles at a poor body. God love ye, madam! +Madam, God love ye!”</p> +<p>Her Grace of Osmonde leaned forward in her equipage and smiled at +the people with the face of an angel.</p> +<p>“I will teach them to love me, Gerald,” she said. +“I have not had love enough.”</p> +<p>“Has not all the world loved you?” he said.</p> +<p>“Nay,” she answered, “only you, and Dunstanwolde +and Anne.”</p> +<p>Late at night they walked together on the broad terrace before the +Tower. The blue-black vault of heaven above them was studded with +myriads of God’s brilliants; below them was spread out the beauty +of the land, the rolling plains, the soft low hills, the forests and +moors folded and hidden in the swathing robe of the night; from the +park and gardens floated upward the freshness of acres of thick sward +and deep fern thicket, the fragrance of roses and a thousand flowers, +the tender sighing of the wind through the huge oaks and beeches bordering +the avenues, and reigning like kings over the seeming boundless grassy +spaces.</p> +<p>As lovers have walked since the days of Eden they walked together, +no longer duke and duchess, but man and woman—near to Paradise +as human beings may draw until God breaks the chain binding them to +earth; and, indeed, it would seem that such hours are given to the straining +human soul that it may know that somewhere perfect joy must be, since +sometimes the gates are for a moment opened that Heaven’s light +may shine through, so that human eyes may catch glimpses of the white +and golden glories within.</p> +<p>His arm held her, she leaned against him, their slow steps so harmonising +the one with the other that they accorded with the harmony of music; +the nightingales trilling and bubbling in the rose trees were not affrighted +by the low murmur of their voices; perchance, this night they were so +near to Nature that the barriers were o’erpassed, and they and +the singers were akin.</p> +<p>“Oh! to be a woman,” Clorinda murmured. “To +be a woman at last. All other things I have been, and have been +called ‘Huntress,’ ‘Goddess,’ ‘Beauty,’ +‘Empress,’ ‘Conqueror,’—but never ‘Woman.’ +And had our paths not crossed, I think I never could have known what +’twas to be one, for to be a woman one must close with the man +who is one’s mate. It must not be that one looks down, or +only pities or protects and guides; and only to a few a mate seems given. +And I—Gerald, how dare I walk thus at your side and feel your +heart so beat near mine, and know you love me, and so worship you—so +worship you—”</p> +<p>She turned and threw herself upon his breast, which was so near.</p> +<p>“Oh, woman! woman!” he breathed, straining her close. +“Oh, woman who is mine, though I am but man.”</p> +<p>“We are but one,” she said; “one breath, one soul, +one thought, and one desire. Were it not so, I were not woman +and your wife, nor you man and my soul’s lover as you are. +If it were not so, we were still apart, though we were wedded a thousand +times. Apart, what are we but like lopped-off limbs; welded together, +we are—<i>this</i>.” And for a moment they spoke not, +and a nightingale on the rose vine, clambering o’er the terrace’s +balustrade, threw up its little head and sang as if to the myriads of +golden stars. They stood and listened, hand in hand, her sweet +breast rose and fell, her lovely face was lifted to the bespangled sky.</p> +<p>“Of all this,” she said, “I am a part, as I am +a part of you. To-night, as the great earth throbs, and as the +stars tremble, and as the wind sighs, so I, being woman, throb and am +tremulous and sigh also. The earth lives for the sun, and through +strange mysteries blooms forth each season with fruits and flowers; +love is my sun, and through its sacredness I may bloom too, and be as +noble as the earth and that it bears.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI—An heir is born</h2> +<p>In a fair tower whose windows looked out upon spreading woods, and +rich lovely plains stretching to the freshness of the sea, Mistress +Anne had her abode which her duchess sister had given to her for her +own living in as she would. There she dwelt and prayed and looked +on the new life which so beauteously unfolded itself before her day +by day, as the leaves of a great tree unfold from buds and become noble +branches, housing birds and their nests, shading the earth and those +sheltering beneath them, braving centuries of storms.</p> +<p>To this simile her simple mind oft reverted, for indeed it seemed +to her that naught more perfect and more noble in its high likeness +to pure Nature and the fulfilling of God’s will than the passing +days of these two lives could be.</p> +<p>“As the first two lived—Adam and Eve in their garden +of Eden—they seem to me,” she used to say to her own heart; +“but the Tree of Knowledge was not forbidden them, and it has +taught them naught ignoble.”</p> +<p>As she had been wont to watch her sister from behind the ivy of her +chamber windows, so she often watched her now, though there was no fear +in her hiding, only tenderness, it being a pleasure to her full of wonder +and reverence to see this beautiful and stately pair go lovingly and +in high and gentle converse side by side, up and down the terrace, through +the paths, among the beds of flowers, under the thick branched trees +and over the sward’s softness.</p> +<p>“It is as if I saw Love’s self, and dwelt with it—the +love God’s nature made,” she said, with gentle sighs.</p> +<p>For if these two had been great and beauteous before, it seemed in +these days as if life and love glowed within them, and shone through +their mere bodies as a radiant light shines through alabaster lamps. +The strength of each was so the being of the other that no thought could +take form in the brain of one without the other’s stirring with +it.</p> +<p>“Neither of us dare be ignoble,” Osmonde said, “for +’twould make poor and base the one who was not so in truth.”</p> +<p>“’Twas not the way of my Lady Dunstanwolde to make a +man feel that he stood in church,” a frivolous court wit once +said, “but in sooth her Grace of Osmonde has a look in her lustrous +eyes which accords not with scandalous stories and playhouse jests.”</p> +<p>And true it was that when they went to town they carried with them +the illumining of the pure fire which burned within their souls, and +bore it all unknowing in the midst of the trivial or designing world, +which knew not what it was that glowed about them, making things bright +which had seemed dull, and revealing darkness where there had been brilliant +glare.</p> +<p>They returned not to the house which had been my Lord of Dunstanwolde’s, +but went to the duke’s own great mansion, and there lived splendidly +and in hospitable state. Royalty honoured them, and all the wits +came there, some of those gentlemen who writ verses and dedications +being by no means averse to meeting noble lords and ladies, and finding +in their loves and graces material which might be useful. ’Twas +not only Mr. Addison and Mr. Steele, Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope, who were +made welcome in the stately rooms, but others who were more humble, +not yet having won their spurs, and how these worshipped her Grace for +the generous kindness which was not the fashion, until she set it, among +great ladies, their odes and verses could scarce express.</p> +<p>“They are so poor,” she said to her husband. “They +are so poor, and yet in their starved souls there is a thing which can +less bear flouting than the dull content which rules in others. +I know not whether ’tis a curse or a boon to be born so. +’Tis a bitter thing when the bird that flutters in them has only +little wings. All the more should those who are strong protect +and comfort them.”</p> +<p>She comforted so many creatures. In strange parts of the town, +where no other lady would have dared to go to give alms, it was rumoured +that she went and did noble things privately. In dark kennels, +where thieves hid and vagrants huddled, she carried her beauty and her +stateliness, the which when they shone on the poor rogues and victims +housed there seemed like the beams of the warm and golden sun.</p> +<p>Once in a filthy hovel in a black alley she came upon a poor girl +dying of a loathsome ill, and as she stood by her bed of rags she heard +in her delirium the uttering of one man’s name again and again, +and when she questioned those about she found that the sufferer had +been a little country wench enticed to town by this man for a plaything, +and in a few weeks cast off to give birth to a child in the almshouse, +and then go down to the depths of vice in the kennel.</p> +<p>“What is the name she says?” her Grace asked the hag +nearest to her, and least maudlin with liquor. “I would +be sure I heard it aright.”</p> +<p>“’Tis the name of a gentleman, your ladyship may be sure,” +the beldam answered; “’tis always the name of a gentleman. +And this is one I know well, for I have heard more than one poor soul +mumbling it and raving at him in her last hours. One there was, +and I knew her, a pretty rosy thing in her country days, not sixteen, +and distraught with love for him, and lay in the street by his door +praying him to take her back when he threw her off, until the watch +drove her away. And she was so mad with love and grief she killed +her girl child when ’twas born i’ the kennel, sobbing and +crying that it should not live to be like her and bear others. +And she was condemned to death, and swung for it on Tyburn Tree. +And, Lord! how she cried his name as she jolted on her coffin to the +gallows, and when the hangman put the rope round her shuddering little +fair neck. ‘Oh, John,’ screams she, ‘John Oxon, +God forgive thee! Nay, ’tis God should be forgiven for letting +thee to live and me to die like this.’ Aye, ’twas +a bitter sight! She was so little and so young, and so affrighted. +The hangman could scarce hold her. I was i’ the midst o’ +the crowd and cried to her to strive to stand still, ’twould be +the sooner over. But that she could not. ‘Oh, John,’ +she screams, ‘John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, ’tis +God should be forgiven for letting thee to live and me to die like this!’”</p> +<p>Till the last hour of the poor creature who lay before her when she +heard this thing, her Grace of Osmonde saw that she was tended, took +her from her filthy hovel, putting her in a decent house and going to +her day by day, until she received her last breath, holding her hand +while the poor wench lay staring up at her beauteous face and her great +deep eyes, whose lustrousness held such power to sustain, protect, and +comfort.</p> +<p>“Be not afraid, poor soul,” she said, “be not afraid. +I will stay near thee. Soon all will end in sleep, and if thou +wakest, sure there will be Christ who died, and wipes all tears away. +Hear me say it to thee for a prayer,” and she bent low and said +it soft and clear into the deadening ear, “He wipes all tears +away—He wipes all tears away.”</p> +<p>The great strength she had used in the old days to conquer and subdue, +to win her will and to defend her way, seemed now a power but to protect +the suffering and uphold the weak, and this she did, not alone in hovels +but in the brilliant court and world of fashion, for there she found +suffering and weakness also, all the more bitter and sorrowful since +it dared not cry aloud. The grandeur of her beauty, the elevation +of her rank, the splendour of her wealth would have made her a protector +of great strength, but that which upheld all those who turned to her +was that which dwelt within the high soul of her, the courage and power +of love for all things human which bore upon itself, as if upon an eagle’s +outspread wings, the woes dragging themselves broken and halting upon +earth. The starving beggar in the kennel felt it, and, not knowing +wherefore, drew a longer, deeper breath, as if of purer, more exalted +air; the poor poet in his garret was fed by it, and having stood near +or spoken to her, went back to his lair with lightening eyes and soul +warmed to believe that the words his Muse might speak the world might +stay to hear.</p> +<p>From the hour she stayed the last moments of John Oxon’s victim +she set herself a work to do. None knew it but herself at first, +and later Anne, for ’twas done privately. From the hag who +had told her of the poor girl’s hanging upon Tyburn Tree, she +learned things by close questioning, which to the old woman’s +dull wit seemed but the curiousness of a great lady, and from others +who stood too deep in awe of her to think of her as a mere human being, +she gathered clues which led her far in the tracing of the evils following +one wicked, heartless life. Where she could hear of man, woman, +or child on whom John Oxon’s sins had fallen, or who had suffered +wrong by him, there she went to help, to give light, to give comfort +and encouragement. Strangely, as it seemed to them, and as if +done by the hand of Heaven, the poor tradesmen he had robbed were paid +their dues, youth he had led into evil ways was checked mysteriously +and set in better paths; women he had dragged downward were given aid +and chance of peace or happiness; children he had cast upon the world, +unfathered, and with no prospect but the education of the gutter, and +a life of crime, were cared for by a powerful unseen hand. The +pretty country girl saved by his death, protected by her Grace, and +living innocently at Dunstanwolde, memory being merciful to youth, forgot +him, gained back her young roses, and learned to smile and hope as though +he had been but a name.</p> +<p>“Since ’twas I who killed him,” said her Grace +to her inward soul, “’tis I must live his life which I took +from him, and making it better I may be forgiven—if there is One +who dares to say to the poor thing He made, ‘I will not forgive.’”</p> +<p>Surely it was said there had never been lives so beautiful and noble +as those the Duke of Osmonde and his lady lived as time went by. +The Tower of Camylott, where they had spent the first months of their +wedded life, they loved better than any other of their seats, and there +they spent as much time as their duties of Court and State allowed them. +It was indeed a splendid and beautiful estate, the stately tower being +built upon an eminence, and there rolling out before it the most lovely +land in England, moorland and hills, thick woods and broad meadows, +the edge of the heather dipping to show the soft silver of the sea.</p> +<p>Here was this beauteous woman chatelaine and queen, wife of her husband +as never before, he thought, had wife blessed and glorified the existence +of mortal man. All her great beauty she gave to him in tender, +joyous tribute; all her great gifts of mind and wit and grace it seemed +she valued but as they were joys to him; in his stately households in +town and country she reigned a lovely empress, adored and obeyed with +reverence by every man or woman who served her and her lord. Among +the people on his various estates she came and went a tender goddess +of benevolence. When she appeared amid them in the first months +of her wedded life, the humble souls regarded her with awe not unmixed +with fear, having heard such wild stories of her youth at her father’s +house, and of her proud state and bitter wit in the great London world +when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde; but when she came among them +all else was forgotten in their wonder at her graciousness and noble +way.</p> +<p>“To see her come into a poor body’s cottage, so tall +and grand a lady, and with such a carriage as she hath,” they +said, hobnobbing together in their talk of her, “looking as if +a crown of gold should sit on her high black head, and then to hear +her gentle speech and see the look in her eyes as if she was but a simple +new-married girl, full of her joy, and her heart big with the wish that +all other women should be as happy as herself, it is, forsooth, a beauteous +sight to see.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and no hovel too poor for her, and no man or woman too +sinful,” was said again.</p> +<p>“Heard ye how she found that poor wench of Haylits lying sobbing +among the fern in the Tower woods, and stayed and knelt beside her to +hear her trouble? The poor soul has gone to ruin at fourteen, +and her father, finding her out, beat her and thrust her from his door, +and her Grace coming through the wood at sunset—it being her way +to walk about for mere pleasure as though she had no coach to ride in—the +girl says she came through the golden glow as if she had been one of +God’s angels—and she kneeled and took the poor wench in +her arms—as strong as a man, Betty says, but as soft as a young +mother—and she said to her things surely no mortal lady ever said +before—that she knew naught of a surety of what God’s true +will might be, or if His laws were those that have been made by man +concerning marriage by priests saying common words, but that she surely +knew of a man whose name was Christ, and He had taught love and helpfulness +and pity, and for His sake, He having earned our trust in Him, whether +He was God or man, because He hung and died in awful torture on the +Cross—for His sake all of us must love and help and pity—‘I +you, poor Betty,’ were her very words, ‘and you me.’ +And then she went to the girl’s father and mother, and so talked +to them that she brought them to weeping, and begging Betty to come +home; and also she went to her sweetheart, Tom Beck, and made so tender +a story to him of the poor pretty wench whose love for him had brought +her to such trouble, that she stirred him up to falling in love again, +which is not man’s way at such times, and in a week’s time +he and Betty went to church together, her Grace setting them up in a +cottage on the estate.”</p> +<p>“I used all my wit and all my tenderest words to make a picture +that would fire and touch him, Gerald,” her Grace said, sitting +at her husband’s side, in a great window, from which they often +watched the sunset in the valley spread below; “and that with +which I am so strong sometimes—I know not what to call it, but +’tis a power people bend to, that I know—that I used upon +him to waken his dull soul and brain. Whose fault is it that they +are dull? Poor lout, he was born so, as I was born strong and +passionate, and as you were born noble and pure and high. I led +his mind back to the past, when he had been made happy by the sight +of Betty’s little smiling, blushing face, and when he had kissed +her and made love in the hayfields. And this I said—though +’twas not a thing I have learned from any chaplain—that +when ’twas said he should make an honest woman of her, it was +<i>my</i> thought that she had been honest from the first, being too +honest to know that the world was not so, and that even the man a woman +loved with all her soul, might be a rogue, and have no honesty in him. +And at last—’twas when I talked to him about the child—and +that I put my whole soul’s strength in—he burst out a-crying +like a schoolboy, and said indeed she was a fond little thing and had +loved him, and he had loved her, and ’twas a shame he had so done +by her, and he had not meant it at the first, but she was so simple, +and he had been a villain, but if he married her now, he would be called +a fool, and laughed at for his pains. Then was I angry, Gerald, +and felt my eyes flash, and I stood up tall and spoke fiercely: ‘Let +them dare,’ I said—‘let any man or woman dare, and +then will they see what his Grace will say.’”</p> +<p>Osmonde drew her to his breast, laughing into her lovely eyes.</p> +<p>“Nay, ’tis not his Grace who need be called on,” +he said; “’tis her Grace they love and fear, and will obey; +though ’tis the sweetest, womanish thing that you should call +on me when you are power itself, and can so rule all creatures you come +near.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” she said, with softly pleading face, “let +me not rule. Rule for me, or but help me; I so long to say your +name that they may know I speak but as your wife.”</p> +<p>“Who is myself,” he answered—“my very self.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” she said, with a little nod of her head, “that +I know—that I am yourself; and ’tis because of this that +one of us cannot be proud with the other, for there is no other, there +is only one. And I am wrong to say, ‘Let me not rule,’ +for ’tis as if I said, ‘You must not rule.’ +I meant surely, ‘God give me strength to be as noble in ruling +as our love should make me.’ But just as one tree is a beech +and one an oak, just as the grass stirs when the summer wind blows over +it, so a woman is a woman, and ’tis her nature to find her joy +in saying such words to the man who loves her, when she loves as I do. +Her heart is so full that she must joy to say her husband’s name +as that of one she cannot think without—who is her life as is +her blood and her pulses beating. ’Tis a joy to say your +name, Gerald, as it will be a joy”—and she looked far out +across the sun-goldened valley and plains, with a strange, heavenly +sweet smile—“as it will be a joy to say our child’s—and +put his little mouth to my full breast.”</p> +<p>“Sweet love,” he cried, drawing her by the hand that +he might meet the radiance of her look—“heart’s dearest!”</p> +<p>She did not withhold her lovely eyes from him, but withdrew them +from the sunset’s mist of gold, and the clouds piled as it were +at the gates of heaven, and they seemed to bring back some of the far-off +glory with them. Indeed, neither her smile nor she seemed at that +moment to be things of earth. She held out her fair, noble arms, +and he sprang to her, and so they stood, side beating against side.</p> +<p>“Yes, love,” she said—“yes, love—and +I have prayed, my Gerald, that I may give you sons who shall be men +like you. But when I give you women children, I shall pray with +all my soul for them—that they may be just and strong and noble, +and life begin for them as it began not for me.”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>In the morning of a spring day when the cuckoos cried in the woods, +and May blossomed thick, white and pink, in all the hedges, the bells +in the grey church-steeple at Camylott rang out a joyous, jangling peal, +telling all the village that the heir had been born at the Tower. +Children stopped in their play to listen, men at their work in field +and barn; good gossips ran out of their cottage door, wiping their arms +dry, from their tubs and scrubbing-buckets, their honest red faces broadening +into maternal grins.</p> +<p>“Ay, ’tis well over, that means surely,” one said +to the other; “and a happy day has begun for the poor lady—though +God knows she bore herself queenly to the very last, as if she could +have carried her burden for another year, and blenched not a bit as +other women do. Bless mother and child, say I.”</p> +<p>“And ’tis an heir,” said another. “She +promised us that we should know almost as quick as she did, and commanded +old Rowe to ring a peal, and then strike one bell loud between if ’twere +a boy, and two if ’twere a girl child. ’Tis a boy, +heard you, and ’twas like her wit to invent such a way to tell +us.”</p> +<p>In four other villages the chimes rang just as loud and merrily, +and the women talked, and blessed her Grace and her young child, and +casks of ale were broached, and oxen roasted, and work stopped, and +dancers footed it upon the green.</p> +<p>“Surely the new-born thing comes here to happiness,” +’twas said everywhere, “for never yet was woman loved as +is his mother.”</p> +<p>In her stately bed her Grace the duchess lay, with the face of the +Mother Mary, and her man-child drinking from her breast. The duke +walked softly up and down, so full of joy that he could not sit still. +When he had entered first, it was his wife’s self who had sate +upright in her bed, and herself laid his son within his arms.</p> +<p>“None other shall lay him there,” she said, “I +have given him to you. He is a great child, but he has not taken +from me my strength.”</p> +<p>He was indeed a great child, even at his first hour, of limbs and +countenance so noble that nurses and physicians regarded him amazed. +He was the offspring of a great love, of noble bodies and great souls. +Did such powers alone create human beings, the earth would be peopled +with a race of giants.</p> +<p>Amid the veiled spring sunshine and the flower-scented silence, broken +only by the twittering of birds nesting in the ivy, her Grace lay soft +asleep, her son resting on her arm, when Anne stole to look at her and +her child. Through the night she had knelt praying in her chamber, +and now she knelt again. She kissed the new-born thing’s +curled rose-leaf hand and the lace frill of his mother’s night-rail. +She dared not further disturb them.</p> +<p>“Sure God forgives,” she breathed—“for Christ’s +sake. He would not give this little tender thing a punishment +to bear.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII—Mother Anne</h2> +<p>There was no punishment. The tender little creature grew as +a blossom grows from bud to fairest bloom. His mother flowered +as he, and spent her days in noble cherishing of him and tender care. +Such motherhood and wifehood as were hers were as fair statues raised +to Nature’s self.</p> +<p>“Once I thought that I was under ban,” she said to her +lord in one of their sweetest hours; “but I have been given love +and a life, and so I know it cannot be. Do I fill all your being, +Gerald?”</p> +<p>“All, all!” he cried, “my sweet, sweet woman.”</p> +<p>“Leave I no longing unfulfilled, no duty undone, to you, dear +love, to the world, to human suffering I might aid? I pray Christ +with all passionate humbleness that I may not.”</p> +<p>“He grants your prayer,” he answered, his eyes moist +with worshipping tenderness.</p> +<p>“And this white soul given to me from the outer bounds we know +not—it has no stain; and the little human body it wakened to life +in—think you that Christ will help me to fold them in love high +and pure enough, and teach the human body to do honour to its soul? +’Tis not monkish scorn of itself that I would teach the body; +it is so beautiful and noble a thing, and so full of the power of joy. +Surely That which made it—in His own image—would not that +it should despise itself and its own wonders, but do them reverence, +and rejoice in them nobly, knowing all their seasons and their changes, +counting not youth folly, and manhood sinful, or age aught but gentle +ripeness passing onward? I pray for a great soul, and great wit, +and greater power to help this fair human thing to grow, and love, and +live.”</p> +<p>These had been born and had rested hid within her when she lay a +babe struggling ’neath her dead mother’s corpse. Through +the darkness of untaught years they had grown but slowly, being so unfitly +and unfairly nourished; but Life’s sun but falling on her, they +seemed to strive to fair fruition with her days.</p> +<p>’Twas not mere love she gave her offspring—for she bore +others as years passed, until she was the mother of four sons and two +girls, children of strength and beauty as noted as her own; she gave +them of her constant thought, and an honour of their humanity such as +taught them reverence of themselves as of all other human things. +Their love for her was such a passion as their father bore her. +She was the noblest creature that they knew; her beauty, her great unswerving +love, her truth, were things bearing to their child eyes the unchangingness +of God’s stars in heaven.</p> +<p>“Why is she not the Queen?” a younger one asked his father +once, having been to London and seen the Court. “The Queen +is not so beautiful and grand as she, and she could so well reign over +the people. She is always just and honourable, and fears nothing.”</p> +<p>From her side Mistress Anne was rarely parted. In her fair +retreat at Camylott she had lived a life all undisturbed by outward +things. When the children were born strange joy came to her.</p> +<p>“Be his mother also,” the duchess had said when she had +drawn the clothes aside to show her first-born sleeping in her arm. +“You were made to be the mother of things, Anne.”</p> +<p>“Nay, or they had been given to me,” Anne had answered.</p> +<p>“Mine I will share with you,” her Grace had said, lifting +her Madonna face. “Kiss me, sister—kiss him, too, +and bless him. Your life has been so innocent it must be good +that you should love and guard him.”</p> +<p>’Twas sweet to see the wit she showed in giving to poor Anne +the feeling that she shared her motherhood. She shared her tenderest +cares and duties with her. Together they bathed and clad the child +in the morning, this being their high festival, in which the nurses +shared but in the performance of small duties. Each day they played +with him and laughed as women will at such dear times, kissing his grand +round limbs, crying out at their growth, worshipping his little rosy +feet, and smothering him with caresses. And then they put him +to sleep, Anne sitting close while his mother fed him from her breast +until his small red mouth parted and slowly released her.</p> +<p>When he could toddle about and was beginning to say words, there +was a morning when she bore him to Anne’s tower that they might +joy in him together, as was their way. It was a beautiful thing +to see her walk carrying him in the strong and lovely curve of her arm +as if his sturdy babyhood were of no more weight than a rose, and he +cuddling against her, clinging and crowing, his wide brown eyes shining +with delight.</p> +<p>“He has come to pay thee court, Anne,” she said. +“He is a great gallant, and knows how we are his loving slaves. +He comes to say his new word that I have taught him.”</p> +<p>She set him down where he stood holding to Anne’s knee and +showing his new pearl teeth, in a rosy grin; his mother knelt beside +him, beginning her coaxing.</p> +<p>“Who is she?” she said, pointing with her finger at Anne’s +face, her own full of lovely fear lest the child should not speak rightly +his lesson. “What is her name? Mammy’s man say—” +and she mumbled softly with her crimson mouth at his ear.</p> +<p>The child looked up at Anne, with baby wit and laughter in his face, +and stammered sweetly—</p> +<p>“Muz—Muzzer—Anne,” he said, and then being +pleased with his cleverness, danced on his little feet and said it over +and over.</p> +<p>Clorinda caught him up and set him on Anne’s lap.</p> +<p>“Know you what he calls you?” she said. “’Tis +but a mumble, his little tongue is not nimble enough for clearness, +but he says it his pretty best. ’Tis Mother Anne, he says—’tis +Mother Anne.”</p> +<p>And then they were in each other’s arms, the child between +them, he kissing both and clasping both, with little laughs of joy as +if they were but one creature.</p> +<p>Each child born they clasped and kissed so, and were so clasped and +kissed by; each one calling the tender unwed woman “Mother Anne,” +and having a special lovingness for her, she being the creature each +one seemed to hover about with innocent protection and companionship.</p> +<p>The wonder of Anne’s life grew deeper to her hour by hour, +and where she had before loved, she learned to worship, for ’twas +indeed worship that her soul was filled with. She could not look +back and believe that she had not dreamed a dream of all the fears gone +by and that they held. This—this was true—the beauty +of these days, the love of them, the generous deeds, the sweet courtesies, +and gentle words spoken. This beauteous woman dwelling in her +husband’s heart, giving him all joy of life and love, ruling queenly +and gracious in his house, bearing him noble children, and tending them +with the very genius of tenderness and wisdom.</p> +<p>But in Mistress Anne herself life had never been strong; she was +of the fibre of her mother, who had died in youth, crushed by its cruel +weight, and to her, living had been so great and terrible a thing. +There had not been given to her the will to battle with the Fate that +fell to her, the brain to reason and disentangle problems, or the power +to set them aside. So while her Grace of Osmonde seemed but to +gain greater state and beauty in her ripening, her sister’s frail +body grew more frail, and seemed to shrink and age. Yet her face +put on a strange worn sweetness, and her soft, dull eyes had a look +almost like a saint’s who looks at heaven. She prayed much, +and did many charitable works both in town and country. She read +her books of devotion, and went much to church, sitting with a reverend +face through many a dull and lengthy sermon she would have felt it sacrilegious +to think of with aught but pious admiration. In the middle of +the night it was her custom to rise and offer up prayers through the +dark hours. She was an humble soul who greatly feared and trembled +before her God.</p> +<p>“I waken in the night sometimes,” the fair, tall child +Daphne said once to her mother, “and Mother Anne is there—she +kneels and prays beside my bed. She kneels and prays so by each +one of us many a night.”</p> +<p>“’Tis because she is so pious a woman and so loves us,” +said young John, in his stately, generous way. The house of Osmonde +had never had so fine and handsome a creature for its heir. He +o’ertopped every boy of his age in height, and the bearing of +his lovely youthful body was masculine grace itself.</p> +<p>The town and the Court knew these children, and talked of their beauty +and growth as they had talked of their mother’s.</p> +<p>“To be the mate of such a woman, the father of such heirs, +is a fate a man might pray God for,” ’twas said. “Love +has not grown stale with them. Their children are the very blossoms +of it. Her eyes are deeper pools of love each year.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII—“In One who will do justice, and demands +that it shall be done to each thing He has made, by each who bears His +image”</h2> +<p>’Twas in these days Sir Jeoffry came to his end, it being in +such way as had been often prophesied; and when this final hour came, +there was but one who could give him comfort, and this was the daughter +whose youth he had led with such careless evilness to harm.</p> +<p>If he had wondered at her when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde, +as her Grace of Osmonde he regarded her with heavy awe. Never +had she been able to lead him to visit her at her house in town or at +any other which was her home. “’Tis all too grand +for me, your Grace,” he would say; “I am a country yokel, +and have hunted and drank, and lived too hard to look well among town +gentlemen. I must be drunk at dinner, and when I am in liquor +I am no ornament to a duchess’s drawing-room. But what a +woman you have grown,” he would say, staring at her and shaking +his head. “Each time I clap eyes on you ’tis to marvel +at you, remembering what a baggage you were, and how you kept from slipping +by the way. There was Jack Oxon, now,” he added one day—“after +you married Dunstanwolde, I heard a pretty tale of Jack—that he +had made a wager among his friends in town—he was a braggart devil, +Jack—that he would have you, though you were so scornful; and +knowing him to be a liar, his fellows said that unless he could bring +back a raven lock six feet long to show them, he had lost his bet, for +they would believe no other proof. And finely they scoffed at +him when he came back saying that he had had one, but had hid it away +for safety when he was drunk, and could not find it again. They +so flouted and jeered at him that swords were drawn, and blood as well. +But though he was a beauty and a crafty rake-hell fellow, you were too +sharp for him. Had you not had so shrewd a wit and strong a will, +you would not have been the greatest duchess in England, Clo, as well +as the finest woman.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” she answered—“in those days—nay, +let us not speak of them! I would blot them out—out.”</p> +<p>As time went by, and the years spent in drink and debauchery began +to tell even on the big, strong body which should have served any other +man bravely long past his threescore and ten, Sir Jeoffry drank harder +and lived more wildly, sometimes being driven desperate by dulness, +his coarse pleasures having lost their potency.</p> +<p>“Liquor is not as strong as it once was,” he used to +grumble, “and there are fewer things to stir a man to frolic. +Lord, what roaring days and nights a man could have thirty years ago.”</p> +<p>So in his efforts to emulate such nights and days, he plunged deeper +and deeper into new orgies; and one night, after a heavy day’s +hunting, sitting at the head of his table with his old companions, he +suddenly leaned forward, staring with starting eyes at an empty chair +in a dark corner. His face grew purple, and he gasped and gurgled.</p> +<p>“What is’t, Jeoff?” old Eldershawe cried, touching +his shoulder with a shaking hand. “What’s the man +staring at, as if he had gone mad?”</p> +<p>“Jack,” cried Sir Jeoffry, his eyes still farther starting +from their sockets. “Jack! what say you? I cannot +hear.”</p> +<p>The next instant he sprang up, shrieking, and thrusting with his +hands as if warding something off.</p> +<p>“Keep back!” he yelled. “There is green mould +on thee. Where hast thou been to grow mouldy? Keep back! +Where hast thou been?”</p> +<p>His friends at table started up, staring at him and losing colour; +he shrieked so loud and strangely, he clutched his hair with his hands, +and fell into his chair, raving, clutching, and staring, or dashing +his head down upon the table to hide his face, and then raising it as +if he could not resist being drawn in his affright to gaze again. +There was no soothing him. He shouted, and struggled with those +who would have held him. ’Twas Jack Oxon who was there, +he swore—Jack, who kept stealing slowly nearer to him, his face +and his fine clothes damp and green, he beat at the air with mad hands, +and at last fell upon the floor, and rolled, foaming at the mouth.</p> +<p>They contrived, after great strugglings, to bear him to his chamber, +but it took the united strength of all who would stay near him to keep +him from making an end of himself. By the dawn of day his boon +companions stood by him with their garments torn to tatters, their faces +drenched with sweat, and their own eyes almost starting from their sockets; +the doctor who had been sent for, coming in no hurry, but scowled and +shook his head when he beheld him.</p> +<p>“He is a dead man,” he said, “and the wonder is +that this has not come before. He is sodden with drink and rotten +with ill-living, besides being past all the strength of youth. +He dies of the life he has lived.”</p> +<p>’Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could +desert their homes and pleasures and tend his horrors longer than a +night. Such a sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful +spirits.</p> +<p>“Lord,” said Sir Chris Crowell, “to see him clutch +his flesh and shriek and mouth, is enough to make a man live sober for +his remaining days,” and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder.</p> +<p>“Ugh!” he said, “God grant I may make a better +end. He writhes as in hell-fire.”</p> +<p>“There is but one on earth who will do aught for him,” +said Eldershawe. “’Tis handsome Clo, who is a duchess; +but she will come and tend him, I could swear. Even when she was +a lawless devil of a child she had a way of standing by her friends +and fearing naught.”</p> +<p>So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many +hours as it took to drive from London, her coach stood before the door. +By this time all the household was panic-stricken and in hopeless disorder, +the women-servants scattered and shuddering in far corners of the house; +such men as could get out of the way having found work to do afield +or in the kennels, for none had nerve to stay where they could hear +the madman’s shrieks and howls.</p> +<p>Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her +chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom, stripped of her rich apparel, +and clad in a gown of strong blue linen, her hair wound close, her white +hands bare of any ornament, save the band of gold which was her wedding-ring. +A serving-woman might have been clad so; but the plainness of her garb +but made her height, and strength, so reveal themselves, that the mere +sight of her woke somewhat that was like to awe in the eyes of the servants +who beheld her as she passed.</p> +<p>She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds, +until she reached the chamber behind whose door they were shut. +Upon the huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed, and tried to tear +himself, his great sinewy and hairy body almost stark. Two of +the stable men were striving to hold him.</p> +<p>The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong +white hand upon his shuddering shoulder.</p> +<p>“Father,” she said, in a voice so clear, and with such +a ring of steady command, as, the men said later, might have reached +a dead man’s ear. “Father, ’tis Clo!”</p> +<p>Sir Jeoffry writhed his head round and glared at her, with starting +eyes and foaming mouth.</p> +<p>“Who says ’tis Clo?” he shouted. “’Tis +a lie! She was ever a bigger devil than any other, though she +was but a handsome wench. Jack himself could not manage her. +She beat him, and would beat him now. ’Tis a lie!”</p> +<p>All through that day and night the power of her Grace’s white +arm was the thing which saved him from dashing out his brains. +The two men could not have held him, and at his greatest frenzy they +observed that now and then his bloodshot eye would glance aside at the +beauteous face above him. The sound of the word “Clo” +had struck upon his brain and wakened an echo.</p> +<p>She sent away the men to rest, calling for others in their places; +but leave the bedside herself she would not. ’Twas a strange +thing to see her strength and bravery, which could not be beaten down. +When the doctor came again he found her there, and changed his surly +and reluctant manner in the presence of a duchess, and one who in her +close linen gown wore such a mien.</p> +<p>“You should not have left him,” she said to him unbendingly, +“even though I myself can see there is little help that can be +given. Thought you his Grace and I would brook that he should +die alone if we could not have reached him?”</p> +<p>Those words “his Grace and I” put a new face upon the +matter, and all was done that lay within the man’s skill; but +most was he disturbed concerning the lady, who would not be sent to +rest, and whose noble consort would be justly angered if she were allowed +to injure her superb health.</p> +<p>“His Grace knew what I came to do and how I should do it,” +the duchess said, unbending still. “But for affairs of State +which held him, he would have been here at my side.”</p> +<p>She held her place throughout the second night, and that was worse +than the first—the paroxysms growing more and more awful; for +Jack was within a yard, and stretched out a green and mouldy hand, the +finger-bones showing through the flesh, the while he smiled awfully.</p> +<p>At last one pealing scream rang out after another, until after making +his shuddering body into an arc resting on heels and head, the madman +fell exhausted, his flesh all quaking before the eye. Then the +duchess waved the men who helped, away. She sat upon the bed’s +edge close—close to her father’s body, putting her two firm +hands on either of his shoulders, holding him so, and bent down, looking +into his wild face, as if she fixed upon his very soul all the power +of her wondrous will.</p> +<p>“Father,” she said, “look at my face. Thou +canst if thou wilt. Look at my face. Then wilt thou see +’tis Clo—and she will stand by thee.”</p> +<p>She kept her gaze upon his very pupils; and though ’twas at +first as if his eyes strove to break away from her look, their effort +was controlled by her steadfastness, and they wandered back at last, +and her great orbs held them. He heaved a long breath, half a +big, broken sob, and lay still, staring up at her.</p> +<p>“Ay,” he said, “’tis Clo! ’tis Clo!”</p> +<p>The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his +cheeks. He broke forth, wailing like a child.</p> +<p>“Clo—Clo,” he said, “I am in hell.”</p> +<p>She put her hand on his breast, keeping will and eyes set on him.</p> +<p>“Nay,” she answered; “thou art on earth, and in +thine own bed, and I am here, and will not leave thee.”</p> +<p>She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in wonder +at her, but feeling in the very air about her the spell to which the +madness had given way.</p> +<p>“’Twas not mere human woman who sat there,” they +said afterwards in the stables among their fellows. “’Twas +somewhat more. Had such a will been in an evil thing a man’s +hair would have risen on his skull at the seeing of it.”</p> +<p>“Go now,” she said to them, “and send women to +set the place in order.”</p> +<p>She had seen delirium and death enough in the doings of her deeds +of mercy, to know that his strength had gone and death was coming. +His bed and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, +with all made straight. Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his +head and stare from hollows, and his skin grew grey, but ever he stared +only at his daughter’s face.</p> +<p>“Clo,” he said at last, “stay by me! Clo, +go not away!”</p> +<p>“I shall not go,” she answered.</p> +<p>She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand. It lay +knotted and gnarled and swollen-veined upon her smooth palm, and with +her other hand she stroked it. His breath came weak and quick, +and fear grew in his eyes.</p> +<p>“What is it, Clo?” he said. “What is’t?”</p> +<p>“’Tis weakness,” replied she, soothing him. +“Soon you will sleep.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” he said, with a breath like a sob. “’Tis +over.”</p> +<p>His big body seemed to collapse, he shrank so in the bed-clothes.</p> +<p>“What day o’ the year is it?” he asked.</p> +<p>“The tenth of August,” was her answer.</p> +<p>“Sixty-nine years from this day was I born,” he said, +“and now ’tis done.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said she—“nay—God grant—”</p> +<p>“Ay,” he said, “done. Would there were nine +and sixty more. What a man I was at twenty. I want not to +die, Clo. I want to live—to live—live, and be young,” +gulping, “with strong muscle and moist flesh. Sixty-nine +years—and they are gone!”</p> +<p>He clung to her hand, and stared at her with awful eyes. Through +all his life he had been but a great, strong, human carcass; and he +was now but the same carcass worn out, and at death’s door. +Of not one human thing but of himself had he ever thought, not one creature +but himself had he ever loved—and now he lay at the end, harking +back only to the wicked years gone by.</p> +<p>“None can bring them back,” he shuddered. “Not +even thou, Clo, who art so strong. None—none! Canst +pray, Clo?” with the gasp of a craven.</p> +<p>“Not as chaplains do,” she answered. “I believe +not in a God who clamours but for praise.”</p> +<p>“What dost believe in, then?”</p> +<p>“In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done +to each thing He has made, by each who bears His image—ay, and +mercy too—but justice always, for justice is mercy’s highest +self.”</p> +<p>Who knows the mysteries of the human soul—who knows the workings +of the human brain? The God who is just alone. In this man’s +mind, which was so near a simple beast’s in all its movings, some +remote, unborn consciousness was surely reached and vaguely set astir +by the clear words thus spoken.</p> +<p>“Clo, Clo!” he cried, “Clo, Clo!” in terror, +clutching her the closer, “what dost thou mean? In all my +nine and sixty years—” and rolled his head in agony.</p> +<p>In all his nine and sixty years he had shown justice to no man, mercy +to no woman, since he had thought of none but Jeoffry Wildairs; and +this truth somehow dimly reached his long-dulled brain and wakened there.</p> +<p>“Down on thy knees, Clo!” he gasped—“down +on thy knees!”</p> +<p>It was so horrible, the look struggling in his dying face, that she +went down upon her knees that moment, and so knelt, folding his shaking +hands within her own against her breast.</p> +<p>“Thou who didst make him as he was born into Thy world,” +she said, “deal with that to which Thou didst give life—and +death. Show him in this hour, which Thou mad’st also, that +Thou art not Man who would have vengeance, but that justice which is +God.”</p> +<p>“Then—then,” he gasped—“then will He +damn me!”</p> +<p>“He will weigh thee,” she said; “and that which +His own hand created will He separate from that which was thine own +wilful wrong—and this, sure, He will teach thee how to expiate.”</p> +<p>“Clo,” he cried again—“thy mother—she +was but a girl, and died alone—I did no justice to her!—Daphne! +Daphne!” And he shook beneath the bed-clothes, shuddering +to his feet, his face growing more grey and pinched.</p> +<p>“She loved thee once,” Clorinda said. “She +was a gentle soul, and would not forget. She will show thee mercy.”</p> +<p>“Birth she went through,” he muttered, “and death—alone. +Birth and death! Daphne, my girl—” And his voice +trailed off to nothingness, and he lay staring at space, and panting.</p> +<p>The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though +at last he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours later he began to +stir. He turned his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze +rested upon her, as she sat fronting him. ’Twas as though +he had awakened to look at her.</p> +<p>“Clo!” he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, +there was both wonder and wild question in it—“Clo!”</p> +<p>But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and +even as they so looked at each other his body stretched itself, his +lids fell—and he was a dead man.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV—The doves sate upon the window-ledge and lowly +cooed and cooed</h2> +<p>When they had had ten years of happiness, Anne died. ’Twas +of no violent illness, it seemed but that through these years of joy +she had been gradually losing life. She had grown thinner and +whiter, and her soft eyes bigger and more prayerful. ’Twas +in the summer, and they were at Camylott, when one sweet day she came +from the flower-garden with her hands full of roses, and sitting down +by her sister in her morning-room, swooned away, scattering her blossoms +on her lap and at her feet.</p> +<p>When she came back to consciousness she looked up at the duchess +with a strange, far look, as if her soul had wandered back from some +great distance.</p> +<p>“Let me be borne to bed, sister,” she said. “I +would lie still. I shall not get up again.”</p> +<p>The look in her face was so unearthly and a thing so full of mystery, +that her Grace’s heart stood still, for in some strange way she +knew the end had come.</p> +<p>They bore her to her tower and laid her in her bed, when she looked +once round the room and then at her sister.</p> +<p>“’Tis a fair, peaceful room,” she said. “And +the prayers I have prayed in it have been answered. To-day I saw +my mother, and she told me so.”</p> +<p>“Anne! Anne!” cried her Grace, leaning over her +and gazing fearfully into her face; for though her words sounded like +delirium, her look had no wildness in it. And yet—“Anne, +Anne! you wander, love,” the duchess cried.</p> +<p>Anne smiled a strange, sweet smile. “Perchance I do,” +she said. “I know not truly, but I am very happy. +She said that all was over, and that I had not done wrong. She +had a fair, young face, with eyes that seemed to have looked always +at the stars of heaven. She said I had done no wrong.”</p> +<p>The duchess’s face laid itself down upon the pillow, a river +of clear tears running down her cheeks.</p> +<p>“Wrong!” she said—“you! dear one—woman +of Christ’s heart, if ever lived one. You were so weak and +I so strong, and yet as I look back it seems that all of good that made +me worthy to be wife and mother I learned from your simplicity.”</p> +<p>Through the tower window and the ivy closing round it, the blueness +of the summer sky was heavenly fair; soft, and light white clouds floated +across the clearness of its sapphire. On this Anne’s eyes +were fixed with an uplifted tenderness until she broke her silence.</p> +<p>“Soon I shall be away,” she said. “Soon all +will be left behind. And I would tell you that my prayers were +answered—and so, sure, yours will be.”</p> +<p>No man could tell what made the duchess then fall on her knees, but +she herself knew. ’Twas that she saw in the exalted dying +face that turned to hers concealing nothing more.</p> +<p>“Anne! Anne!” she cried. “Sister Anne! +Mother Anne of my children! You have known—you have known +all the years and kept it hid!”</p> +<p>She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face +in the coverlid’s folds.</p> +<p>“Ay, sister,” Anne said, coming a little back to earth, +“and from the first. I found a letter near the sun-dial—I +guessed—I loved you—and could do naught else but guard you. +Many a day have I watched within the rose-garden—many a day—and +night—God pardon me—and night. When I knew a letter +was hid, ’twas my wont to linger near, knowing that my presence +would keep others away. And when you approached—or he—I +slipped aside and waited beyond the rose hedge—that if I heard +a step, I might make some sound of warning. Sister, I was your +sentinel, and being so, knelt while on my guard, and prayed.”</p> +<p>“My sentinel!” Clorinda cried. “And knowing +all, you so guarded me night and day, and prayed God’s pity on +my poor madness and girl’s frenzy!” And she gazed +at her in amaze, and with humblest, burning tears.</p> +<p>“For my own poor self as well as for you, sister, did I pray +God’s pity as I knelt,” said Anne. “For long +I knew it not—being so ignorant—but alas! I loved +him too!—I loved him too! I have loved no man other all +my days. He was unworthy any woman’s love—and I was +too lowly for him to cast a glance on; but I was a woman, and God made +us so.”</p> +<p>Clorinda clutched her pallid hand.</p> +<p>“Dear God,” she cried, “you loved him!”</p> +<p>Anne moved upon her pillow, drawing weakly, slowly near until her +white lips were close upon her sister’s ear.</p> +<p>“The night,” she panted—“the night you bore +him—in your arms—”</p> +<p>Then did the other woman give a shuddering start and lift her head, +staring with a frozen face.</p> +<p>“What! what!” she cried.</p> +<p>“Down the dark stairway,” the panting voice went on, +“to the far cellar—I kept watch again.”</p> +<p>“You kept watch—you?” the duchess gasped.</p> +<p>“Upon the stair which led to the servants’ place—that +I might stop them if—if aught disturbed them, and they oped their +doors—that I might send them back, telling them—it was I.”</p> +<p>Then stooped the duchess nearer to her, her hands clutching the coverlid, +her eyes widening.</p> +<p>“Anne, Anne,” she cried, “you knew the awful thing +that I would hide! That too? You knew that he was <i>there</i>!”</p> +<p>Anne lay upon her pillow, her own eyes gazing out through the ivy-hung +window of her tower at the blue sky and the fair, fleecy clouds. +A flock of snow-white doves were flying back and forth across it, and +one sate upon the window’s deep ledge and cooed. All was +warm and perfumed with summer’s sweetness. There seemed +naught between her and the uplifting blueness, and naught of the earth +was near but the dove’s deep-throated cooing and the laughter +of her Grace’s children floating upward from the garden of flowers +below.</p> +<p>“I lie upon the brink,” she said—“upon the +brink, sister, and methinks my soul is too near to God’s pure +justice to fear as human things fear, and judge as earth does. +She said I did no wrong. Yes, I knew.”</p> +<p>“And knowing,” her sister cried, “you came to me +<i>that afternoon</i>!”</p> +<p>“To stand by that which lay hidden, that I might keep the rest +away. Being a poor creature and timorous and weak—”</p> +<p>“Weak! weak!” the duchess cried, amid a greater flood +of streaming tears—“ay, I have dared to call you so, who +have the heart of a great lioness. Oh, sweet Anne—weak!”</p> +<p>“’Twas love,” Anne whispered. “Your +love was strong, and so was mine. That other love was not for +me. I knew that my long woman’s life would pass without +it—for woman’s life is long, alas! if love comes not. +But you were love’s self, and I worshipped you and it; and to +myself I said—praying forgiveness on my knees—that one woman +should know love if I did not. And being so poor and imperfect +a thing, what mattered if I gave my soul for you—and love, which +is so great, and rules the world. Look at the doves, sister, look +at them, flying past the heavenly blueness—and she said I did +no wrong.”</p> +<p>Her hand was wet with tears fallen upon it, as her duchess sister +knelt, and held and kissed it, sobbing.</p> +<p>“You knew, poor love, you knew!” she cried.</p> +<p>“Ay, all of it I knew,” Anne said—“his torture +of you and the madness of your horror. And when he forced himself +within the Panelled Parlour that day of fate, I knew he came to strike +some deadly blow; and in such anguish I waited in my chamber for the +end, that when it came not, I crept down, praying that somehow I might +come between—and I went in the room!”</p> +<p>“And there—what saw you?” quoth the duchess, shuddering. +“Somewhat you must have seen, or you could not have known.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Anne, “and heard!” and her chest +heaved.</p> +<p>“Heard!” cried Clorinda. “Great God of mercy!”</p> +<p>“The room was empty, and I stood alone. It was so still +I was afraid; it seemed so like the silence of the grave; and then there +came a sound—a long and shuddering breath—but one—and +then—”</p> +<p>The memory brought itself too keenly back, and she fell a-shivering.</p> +<p>“I heard a slipping sound, and a dead hand fell on the floor-lying +outstretched, its palm turned upwards, showing beneath the valance of +the couch.”</p> +<p>She threw her frail arms round her sister’s neck, and as Clorinda +clasped her own, breathing gaspingly, they swayed together.</p> +<p>“What did you then?” the duchess cried, in a wild whisper.</p> +<p>“I prayed God keep me sane—and knelt—and looked +below. I thrust it back—the dead hand, saying aloud, ‘Swoon +you must not, swoon you must not, swoon you shall not—God help! +God help!’—and I saw!—the purple mark—his eyes +upturned—his fair curls spread; and I lost strength and fell upon +my side, and for a minute lay there—knowing that shudder of breath +had been the very last expelling of his being, and his hand had fallen +by its own weight.”</p> +<p>“O God! O God! O God!” Clorinda cried, and +over and over said the word, and over again.</p> +<p>“How was’t—how was’t?” Anne shuddered, +clinging to her. “How was’t ’twas done? +I have so suffered, being weak—I have so prayed! God will +have mercy—but it has done me to death, this knowledge, and before +I die, I pray you tell me, that I may speak truly at God’s throne.”</p> +<p>“O God! O God! O God!” Clorinda groaned—“O +God!” and having cried so, looking up, was blanched as a thing +struck with death, her eyes like a great stag’s that stands at +bay.</p> +<p>“Stay, stay!” she cried, with a sudden shock of horror, +for a new thought had come to her which, strangely, she had not had +before. “You thought I <i>murdered</i> him?”</p> +<p>Convulsive sobs heaved Anne’s poor chest, tears sweeping her +hollow cheeks, her thin, soft hands clinging piteously to her sister’s.</p> +<p>“Through all these years I have known nothing,” she wept—“sister, +I have known nothing but that I found him hidden there, a dead man, +whom you so hated and so feared.”</p> +<p>Her hands resting upon the bed’s edge, Clorinda held her body +upright, such passion of wonder, love, and pitying adoring awe in her +large eyes as was a thing like to worship.</p> +<p>“You thought I <i>murdered</i> him, and loved me still,” +she said. “You thought I murdered him, and still you shielded +me, and gave me chance to live, and to repent, and know love’s +highest sweetness. You thought I murdered him, and yet your soul +had mercy. Now do I believe in God, for only a God could make +a heart so noble.”</p> +<p>“And you—did not—” cried out Anne, and raised +upon her elbow, her breast panting, but her eyes growing wide with light +as from stars from heaven. “Oh, sister love—thanks +be to Christ who died!”</p> +<p>The duchess rose, and stood up tall and great, her arms out-thrown.</p> +<p>“I think ’twas God Himself who did it,” she said, +“though ’twas I who struck the blow. He drove me mad +and blind, he tortured me, and thrust to my heart’s core. +He taunted me with that vile thing Nature will not let women bear, and +did it in my Gerald’s name, calling on him. And then I struck +with my whip, knowing nothing, not seeing, only striking, like a goaded +dying thing. He fell—he fell and lay there—and all +was done!”</p> +<p>“But not with murderous thought—only through frenzy and +a cruel chance—a cruel, cruel chance. And of your own will +blood is not upon your hand,” Anne panted, and sank back upon +her pillow.</p> +<p>“With deepest oaths I swear,” Clorinda said, and she +spoke through her clenched teeth, “if I had not loved, if Gerald +had not been my soul’s life and I his, I would have stood upright +and laughed in his face at the devil’s threats. Should I +have feared? You know me. Was there a thing on earth or +in heaven or hell I feared until love rent me. ’Twould but +have fired my blood, and made me mad with fury that dares all. +‘Spread it abroad!’ I would have cried to him. ‘Tell +it to all the world, craven and outcast, whose vileness all men know, +and see how I shall bear myself, and how I shall drive through the town +with head erect. As I bore myself when I set the rose crown on +my head, so shall I bear myself then. And you shall see what comes!’ +This would I have said, and held to it, and gloried. But I knew +love, and there was an anguish that I could not endure—that my +Gerald should look at me with changed eyes, feeling that somewhat of +his rightful meed was gone. And I was all distraught and conquered. +Of ending his base life I never thought, never at my wildest, though +I had thought to end my own; but when Fate struck the blow for me, then +I swore that carrion should not taint my whole life through. It +should not—should not—for ’twas Fate’s self +had doomed me to my ruin. And there it lay until the night; for +this I planned, that being of such great strength for a woman, I could +bear his body in my arms to the farthest of that labyrinth of cellars +I had commanded to be cut off from the rest and closed; and so I did +when all were sleeping—but you, poor Anne—but you! +And there I laid him, and there he lies to-day—an evil thing turned +to a handful of dust.”</p> +<p>“It was not murder,” whispered Anne—“no, +it was not.” She lifted to her sister’s gaze a quivering +lip. “And yet once I had loved him—years I had loved +him,” she said, whispering still. “And in a woman +there is ever somewhat that the mother creature feels”—the +hand which held her sister’s shook as with an ague, and her poor +lip quivered—“Sister, I—saw him again!”</p> +<p>The duchess drew closer as she gasped, “Again!”</p> +<p>“I could not rest,” the poor voice said. “He +had been so base, he was so beautiful, and so unworthy love—and +he was dead,—none knowing, untouched by any hand that even pitied +him that he was so base a thing, for that indeed is piteous when death +comes and none can be repentant. And he lay so hard, so hard upon +the stones.”</p> +<p>Her teeth were chattering, and with a breath drawn like a wild sob +of terror, the duchess threw her arm about her and drew her nearer.</p> +<p>“Sweet Anne,” she shuddered—“sweet Anne—come +back—you wander!”</p> +<p>“Nay, ’tis not wandering,” Anne said. “’Tis +true, sister. There is no night these years gone by I have not +remembered it again—and seen. In the night after that you +bore him there—I prayed until the mid-hours, when all were sleeping +fast—and then I stole down—in my bare feet, that none could +hear me—and at last I found my way in the black dark—feeling +the walls until I reached that farthest door in the stone—and +then I lighted my taper and oped it.”</p> +<p>“Anne!” cried the duchess—“Anne, look through +the tower window at the blueness of the sky—at the blueness, Anne!” +But drops of cold water had started out and stood upon her brow.</p> +<p>“He lay there in his grave—it was a little black place +with its stone walls—his fair locks were tumbled,” Anne +went on, whispering. “The spot was black upon his brow—and +methought he had stopped mocking, and surely looked upon some great +and awful thing which asked of him a question. I knelt, and laid +his curls straight, and his hands, and tried to shut his eyes, but close +they would not, but stared at that which questioned. And having +loved him so, I kissed his poor cheek as his mother might have done, +that he might not stand outside, having carried not one tender human +thought with him. And, oh, I prayed, sister—I prayed for +his poor soul with all my own. ‘If there is one noble or +gentle thing he has ever done through all his life,’ I prayed, +‘Jesus remember it—Christ do not forget.’ We +who are human do so few things that are noble—oh, surely one must +count.”</p> +<p>The duchess’s head lay near her sister’s breast, and +she had fallen a-sobbing—a-sobbing and weeping like a young broken +child.</p> +<p>“Oh, brave and noble, pitiful, strong, fair soul!” she +cried. “As Christ loved you have loved, and He would hear +your praying. Since you so pleaded, He would find one thing to +hang His mercy on.”</p> +<p>She lifted her fair, tear-streaming face, clasping her hands as one +praying.</p> +<p>“And I—and I,” she cried—“have I not +built a temple on his grave? Have I not tried to live a fair life, +and be as Christ bade me? Have I not loved, and pitied, and succoured +those in pain? Have I not filled a great man’s days with +bliss, and love, and wifely worship? Have I not given him noble +children, bred in high lovingness, and taught to love all things God +made, even the very beasts that perish, since they, too, suffer as all +do? Have I left aught undone? Oh, sister, I have so prayed +that I left naught. Even though I could not believe that there +was One who, ruling all, could yet be pitiless as He is to some, I have +prayed That—which sure it seems must be, though we comprehend +it not—to teach me faith in something greater than my poor self, +and not of earth. Say this to Christ’s self when you are +face to face—say this to Him, I pray you! Anne, Anne, look +not so strangely through the window at the blueness of the sky, sweet +soul, but look at me.”</p> +<p>For Anne lay upon her pillow so smiling that ’twas a strange +thing to behold. It seemed as she were smiling at the whiteness +of the doves against the blue. A moment her sister stood up watching +her, and then she stirred, meaning to go to call one of the servants +waiting outside; but though she moved not her gaze from the tower window, +Mistress Anne faintly spoke.</p> +<p>“Nay—stay,” she breathed. “I go—softly—stay.”</p> +<p>Clorinda fell upon her knees again and bent her lips close to her +ear. This was death, and yet she feared it not—this was +the passing of a soul, and while it went it seemed so fair and loving +a thing that she could ask it her last question—her greatest—knowing +it was so near to God that its answer must be rest.</p> +<p>“Anne, Anne,” she whispered, “must he know—my +Gerald? Must I—must I tell him all? If so I must, +I will—upon my knees.”</p> +<p>The doves came flying downward from the blue, and lighted on the +window stone and cooed—Anne’s answer was as low as her soft +breath and her still eyes were filled with joy at that she saw but which +another could not.</p> +<p>“Nay,” she breathed. “Tell him not. +What need? Wait, and let God tell him—who understands.”</p> +<p>Then did her soft breath stop, and she lay still, her eyes yet open +and smiling at the blossoms, and the doves who sate upon the window-ledge +and lowly cooed and cooed.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>’Twas her duchess sister who clad her for her last sleeping, +and made her chamber fair—the hand of no other touched her; and +while ’twas done the tower chamber was full of the golden sunshine, +and the doves ceased not to flutter about the window, and coo as if +they spoke lovingly to each other of what lay within the room.</p> +<p>Then the children came to look, their arms full of blossoms and flowering +sprays. They had been told only fair things of death, and knowing +but these fair things, thought of it but as the opening of a golden +door. They entered softly, as entering the chamber of a queen, +and moving tenderly, with low and gentle speech, spread all their flowers +about the bed—laying them round her head, on her breast, and in +her hands, and strewing them thick everywhere.</p> +<p>“She lies in a bower and smiles at us,” one said. +“She hath grown beautiful like you, mother, and her face seems +like a white star in the morning.”</p> +<p>“She loves us as she ever did,” the fair child Daphne +said; “she will never cease to love us, and will be our angel. +Now have we an angel of our own.”</p> +<p>When the duke returned, who had been absent since the day before, +the duchess led him to the tower chamber, and they stood together hand +in hand and gazed at her peace.</p> +<p>“Gerald,” the duchess said, in her tender voice, “she +smiles, does not she?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” was Osmonde’s answer—“yes, love, +as if at God, who has smiled at herself—faithful, tender woman +heart!”</p> +<p>The hand which he held in his clasp clung closer. The other +crept to his shoulder and lay there tremblingly.</p> +<p>“How faithful and how tender, my Gerald,” Clorinda said, +“I only know. She is my saint—sweet Anne, whom I dared +treat so lightly in my poor wayward days. Gerald, she knows all +my sins, and to-day she has carried them in her pure hands to God and +asked His mercy on them. She had none of her own.”</p> +<p>“And so having done, dear heart, she lies amid her flowers, +and smiles,” he said, and he drew her white hand to press it against +his breast.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>While her body slept beneath soft turf and flowers, and that which +was her self was given in God’s heaven, all joys for which her +earthly being had yearned, even when unknowing how to name its longing, +each year that passed made more complete and splendid the lives of those +she so had loved. Never, ’twas said, had woman done such +deeds of gentleness and shown so sweet and generous a wisdom as the +great duchess. None who were weak were in danger if she used her +strength to aid them; no man or woman was a lost thing whom she tried +to save: such tasks she set herself as no lady had ever given herself +before; but ’twas not her way to fail—her will being so +powerful, her brain so clear, her heart so purely noble. Pauper +and prince, noble and hind honoured her and her lord alike, and all +felt wonder at their happiness. It seemed that they had learned +life’s meaning and the honouring of love, and this they taught +to their children, to the enriching of a long and noble line. +In the ripeness of years they passed from earth in as beauteous peace +as the sun sets, and upon a tablet above the resting-place of their +ancestors there are inscribed lines like these:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Here sleeps by her husband the purest and noblest +lady God e’er loved, yet the high and gentle deeds of her chaste +sweet life sleep not, but live and grow, and so will do so long as earth +is earth.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LADY OF QUALITY***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1550-h.htm or 1550-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1550 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +</pre></body> +</html> diff --git a/1550.txt b/1550.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6091d64 --- /dev/null +++ b/1550.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8950 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Lady of Quality, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Lady of Quality + + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: March 24, 2005 [eBook #1550] +[Last updated: December 9, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LADY OF QUALITY*** + + + + + +Transcribed from the 1896 Frederick Warne & Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +A LADY OF QUALITY + + +Being a most curious, hitherto unknown +history, as related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff +but not presented to the World of +Fashion through the pages of +The Tatler, and now for the +first time written down +by +Francis Hodgson Burnett + + Were Nature just to Man from his first hour, he need not ask for + Mercy; then 'tis for us--the toys of Nature--to be both just and + merciful, for so only can the wrongs she does be undone. + + + + +CHAPTER I--The twenty-fourth day of November 1690 + + +On a wintry morning at the close of 1690, the sun shining faint and red +through a light fog, there was a great noise of baying dogs, loud voices, +and trampling of horses in the courtyard at Wildairs Hall; Sir Jeoffry +being about to go forth a-hunting, and being a man with a choleric temper +and big, loud voice, and given to oaths and noise even when in +good-humour, his riding forth with his friends at any time was attended +with boisterous commotion. This morning it was more so than usual, for +he had guests with him who had come to his house the day before, and had +supped late and drunk deeply, whereby the day found them, some with +headaches, some with a nausea at their stomachs, and some only in an evil +humour which made them curse at their horses when they were restless, and +break into loud surly laughs when a coarse joke was made. There were +many such jokes, Sir Jeoffry and his boon companions being renowned +throughout the county for the freedom of their conversation as for the +scandal of their pastimes, and this day 'twas well indeed, as their loud- +voiced, oath-besprinkled jests rang out on the cold air, that there were +no ladies about to ride forth with them. + +'Twas Sir Jeoffry who was louder than any other, he having drunk even +deeper than the rest, and though 'twas his boast that he could carry a +bottle more than any man, and see all his guests under the table, his +last night's bout had left him in ill-humour and boisterous. He strode +about, casting oaths at the dogs and rating the servants, and when he +mounted his big black horse 'twas amid such a clamour of voices and +baying hounds that the place was like Pandemonium. + +He was a large man of florid good looks, black eyes, and full habit of +body, and had been much renowned in his youth for his great strength, +which was indeed almost that of a giant, and for his deeds of prowess in +the saddle and at the table when the bottle went round. There were many +evil stories of his roysterings, but it was not his way to think of them +as evil, but rather to his credit as a man of the world, for, when he +heard that they were gossiped about, he greeted the information with a +loud triumphant laugh. He had married, when she was fifteen, the +blooming toast of the county, for whom his passion had long died out, +having indeed departed with the honeymoon, which had been of the +briefest, and afterwards he having borne her a grudge for what he chose +to consider her undutiful conduct. This grudge was founded on the fact +that, though she had presented him each year since their marriage with a +child, after nine years had passed none had yet been sons, and, as he was +bitterly at odds with his next of kin, he considered each of his +offspring an ill turn done him. + +He spent but little time in her society, for she was a poor, gentle +creature of no spirit, who found little happiness in her lot, since her +lord treated her with scant civility, and her children one after another +sickened and died in their infancy until but two were left. He scarce +remembered her existence when he did not see her face, and he was +certainly not thinking of her this morning, having other things in view, +and yet it so fell out that, while a groom was shortening a stirrup and +being sworn at for his awkwardness, he by accident cast his eye upward to +a chamber window peering out of the thick ivy on the stone. Doing so he +saw an old woman draw back the curtain and look down upon him as if +searching for him with a purpose. + +He uttered an exclamation of anger. + +"Damnation! Mother Posset again," he said. "What does she there, old +frump?" + +The curtain fell and the woman disappeared, but in a few minutes more an +unheard-of thing happened--among the servants in the hall, the same old +woman appeared making her way with a hurried fretfulness, and she +descended haltingly the stone steps and came to his side where he sat on +his black horse. + +"The Devil!" he exclaimed--"what are you here for? 'Tis not time for +another wench upstairs, surely?" + +"'Tis not time," answered the old nurse acidly, taking her tone from his +own. "But there is one, but an hour old, and my lady--" + +"Be damned to her!" quoth Sir Jeoffry savagely. "A ninth one--and 'tis +nine too many. 'Tis more than man can bear. She does it but to spite +me." + +"'Tis ill treatment for a gentleman who wants an heir," the old woman +answered, as disrespectful of his spouse as he was, being a time-serving +crone, and knowing that it paid but poorly to coddle women who did not as +their husbands would have them in the way of offspring. "It should have +been a fine boy, but it is not, and my lady--" + +"Damn her puling tricks!" said Sir Jeoffry again, pulling at his horse's +bit until the beast reared. + +"She would not let me rest until I came to you," said the nurse +resentfully. "She would have you told that she felt strangely, and +before you went forth would have a word with you." + +"I cannot come, and am not in the mood for it if I could," was his +answer. "What folly does she give way to? This is the ninth time she +hath felt strangely, and I have felt as squeamish as she--but nine is +more than I have patience for." + +"She is light-headed, mayhap," said the nurse. "She lieth huddled in a +heap, staring and muttering, and she would leave me no peace till I +promised to say to you, 'For the sake of poor little Daphne, whom you +will sure remember.' She pinched my hand and said it again and again." + +Sir Jeoffry dragged at his horse's mouth and swore again. + +"She was fifteen then, and had not given me nine yellow-faced wenches," +he said. "Tell her I had gone a-hunting and you were too late;" and he +struck his big black beast with the whip, and it bounded away with him, +hounds and huntsmen and fellow-roysterers galloping after, his guests, +who had caught at the reason of his wrath, grinning as they rode. + +* * * * * + +In a huge chamber hung with tattered tapestries and barely set forth with +cumbersome pieces of furnishing, my lady lay in a gloomy, canopied bed, +with her new-born child at her side, but not looking at or touching it, +seeming rather to have withdrawn herself from the pillow on which it lay +in its swaddling-clothes. + +She was but a little lady, and now, as she lay in the large bed, her face +and form shrunken and drawn with suffering, she looked scarce bigger than +a child. In the brief days of her happiness those who toasted her had +called her Titania for her fairy slightness and delicate beauty, but then +her fair wavy locks had been of a length that touched the ground when her +woman unbound them, and she had had the colour of a wild rose and the +eyes of a tender little fawn. Sir Jeoffry for a month or so had paid +tempestuous court to her, and had so won her heart with his dashing way +of love-making and the daringness of his reputation, that she had thought +herself--being child enough to think so--the luckiest young lady in the +world that his black eye should have fallen upon her with favour. Each +year since, with the bearing of each child, she had lost some of her +beauty. With each one her lovely hair fell out still more, her wild-rose +colour faded, and her shape was spoiled. She grew thin and yellow, only +a scant covering of the fair hair was left her, and her eyes were big and +sunken. Her marriage having displeased her family, and Sir Jeoffry +having a distaste for the ceremonies of visiting and entertainment, save +where his own cronies were concerned, she had no friends, and grew +lonelier and lonelier as the sad years went by. She being so without +hope and her life so dreary, her children were neither strong nor +beautiful, and died quickly, each one bringing her only the anguish of +birth and death. This wintry morning her ninth lay slumbering by her +side; the noise of baying dogs and boisterous men had died away with the +last sound of the horses' hoofs; the little light which came into the +room through the ivied window was a faint yellowish red; she was cold, +because the fire in the chimney was but a scant, failing one; she was +alone--and she knew that the time had come for her death. This she knew +full well. + +She was alone, because, being so disrespected and deserted by her lord, +and being of a timid and gentle nature, she could not command her +insufficient retinue of servants, and none served her as was their duty. +The old woman Sir Jeoffry had dubbed Mother Posset had been her sole +attendant at such times as these for the past five years, because she +would come to her for a less fee than a better woman, and Sir Jeoffry had +sworn he would not pay for wenches being brought into the world. She was +a slovenly, guzzling old crone, who drank caudle from morning till night, +and demanded good living as a support during the performance of her +trying duties; but these last she contrived to make wondrous light, +knowing that there was none to reprove her. + +"A fine night I have had," she had grumbled when she brought back Sir +Jeoffry's answer to her lady's message. "My old bones are like to break, +and my back will not straighten itself. I will go to the kitchen to get +victuals and somewhat to warm me; your ladyship's own woman shall sit +with you." + +Her ladyship's "own woman" was also the sole attendant of the two little +girls, Barbara and Anne, whose nursery was in another wing of the house, +and my lady knew full well she would not come if she were told, and that +there would be no message sent to her. + +She knew, too, that the fire was going out, but, though she shivered +under the bed-clothes, she was too weak to call the woman back when she +saw her depart without putting fresh fuel upon it. + +So she lay alone, poor lady, and there was no sound about her, and her +thin little mouth began to feebly quiver, and her great eyes, which +stared at the hangings, to fill with slow cold tears, for in sooth they +were not warm, but seemed to chill her poor cheeks as they rolled slowly +down them, leaving a wet streak behind them which she was too far gone in +weakness to attempt to lift her hand to wipe away. + +"Nine times like this," she panted faintly, "and 'tis for naught but +oaths and hard words that blame me. I was but a child myself and he +loved me. When 'twas 'My Daphne,' and 'My beauteous little Daphne,' he +loved me in his own man's way. But now--" she faintly rolled her head +from side to side. "Women are poor things"--a chill salt tear sliding +past her lips so that she tasted its bitterness--"only to be kissed for +an hour, and then like this--only for this and nothing else. I would +that this one had been dead." + +Her breath came slower and more pantingly, and her eyes stared more +widely. + +"I was but a child," she whispered--"a child--as--as this will be--if she +lives fifteen years." + +Despite her weakness, and it was great and woefully increasing with each +panting breath, she slowly laboured to turn herself towards the pillow on +which her offspring lay, and, this done, she lay staring at the child and +gasping, her thin chest rising and falling convulsively. Ah, how she +panted, and how she stared, the glaze of death stealing slowly over her +wide-opened eyes; and yet, dimming as they were, they saw in the sleeping +infant a strange and troublous thing--though it was but a few hours old +'twas not as red and crumple visaged as new-born infants usually are, its +little head was covered with thick black silk, and its small features +were of singular definiteness. She dragged herself nearer to gaze. + +"She looks not like the others," she said. "They had no beauty--and are +safe. She--she will be like--Jeoffry--and like _me_." + +The dying fire fell lower with a shuddering sound. + +"If she is--beautiful, and has but her father, and no mother!" she +whispered, the words dragged forth slowly, "only evil can come to her. +From her first hour--she will know naught else, poor heart, poor heart!" + +There was a rattling in her throat as she breathed, but in her glazing +eyes a gleam like passion leaped, and gasping, she dragged nearer. + +"'Tis not fair," she cried. "If I--if I could lay my hand upon thy +mouth--and stop thy breathing--thou poor thing, 'twould be fairer--but--I +have no strength." + +She gathered all her dying will and brought her hand up to the infant's +mouth. A wild look was on her poor, small face, she panted and fell +forward on its breast, the rattle in her throat growing louder. The +child awakened, opening great black eyes, and with her dying weakness its +new-born life struggled. Her cold hand lay upon its mouth, and her +head upon its body, for she was too far gone to move if she had willed to +do so. But the tiny creature's strength was marvellous. It gasped, it +fought, its little limbs struggled beneath her, it writhed until the cold +hand fell away, and then, its baby mouth set free, it fell a-shrieking. +Its cries were not like those of a new-born thing, but fierce and shrill, +and even held the sound of infant passion. 'Twas not a thing to let its +life go easily, 'twas of those born to do battle. + +Its lusty screaming pierced her ear perhaps--she drew a long, slow +breath, and then another, and another still--the last one trembled and +stopped short, and the last cinder fell dead from the fire. + +* * * * * + +When the nurse came bustling and fretting back, the chamber was cold as +the grave's self--there were only dead embers on the hearth, the new-born +child's cries filled all the desolate air, and my lady was lying stone +dead, her poor head resting on her offspring's feet, the while her open +glazed eyes seemed to stare at it as if in asking Fate some awful +question. + + + + +CHAPTER II--In which Sir Jeoffry encounters his offspring + + +In a remote wing of the house, in barren, ill-kept rooms, the poor +infants of the dead lady had struggled through their brief lives, and +given them up, one after the other. Sir Jeoffry had not wished to see +them, nor had he done so, but upon the rarest occasions, and then nearly +always by some untoward accident. The six who had died, even their +mother had scarcely wept for; her weeping had been that they should have +been fated to come into the world, and when they went out of it she knew +she need not mourn their going as untimely. The two who had not +perished, she had regarded sadly day by day, seeing they had no beauty +and that their faces promised none. Naught but great beauty would have +excused their existence in their father's eyes, as beauty might have +helped them to good matches which would have rid him of them. But 'twas +the sad ill fortune of the children Anne and Barbara to have been treated +by Nature in a way but niggardly. They were pale young misses, with +insignificant faces and snub noses, resembling an aunt who died a +spinster, as they themselves seemed most likely to. Sir Jeoffry could +not bear the sight of them, and they fled at the sound of his footsteps, +if it so happened that by chance they heard it, huddling together in +corners, and slinking behind doors or anything big enough to hide them. +They had no playthings and no companions and no pleasures but such as the +innocent invention of childhood contrives for itself. + +After their mother's death a youth desolate and strange indeed lay before +them. A spinster who was a poor relation was the only person of +respectable breeding who ever came near them. To save herself from +genteel starvation, she had offered herself for the place of governess to +them, though she was fitted for the position neither by education nor +character. Mistress Margery Wimpole was a poor, dull creature, having no +wilful harm in her, but endowed with neither dignity nor wit. She lived +in fear of Sir Jeoffry, and in fear of the servants, who knew full well +that she was an humble dependant, and treated her as one. She hid away +with her pupils in the bare school-room in the west wing, and taught +them to spell and write and work samplers. She herself knew no more. + +The child who had cost her mother her life had no happier prospect than +her sisters. Her father felt her more an intruder than they had been, he +being of the mind that to house and feed and clothe, howsoever poorly, +these three burdens on him was a drain scarcely to be borne. His wife +had been a toast and not a fortune, and his estate not being great, he +possessed no more than his drinking, roystering, and gambling made full +demands upon. + +The child was baptized Clorinda, and bred, so to speak, from her first +hour, in the garret and the servants' hall. Once only did her father +behold her during her infancy, which event was a mere accident, as he had +expressed no wish to see her, and only came upon her in the nurse's arms +some weeks after her mother's death. 'Twas quite by chance. The woman, +who was young and buxom, had begun an intrigue with a groom, and having a +mind to see him, was crossing the stable-yard, carrying her charge with +her, when Sir Jeoffry came by to visit a horse. + +The woman came plump upon him, entering a stable as he came out of it; +she gave a frightened start, and almost let the child drop, at which it +set up a strong, shrill cry, and thus Sir Jeoffry saw it, and seeing it, +was thrown at once into a passion which expressed itself after the manner +of all his emotion, and left the nurse quaking with fear. + +"Thunder and damnation!" he exclaimed, as he strode away after the +encounter; "'tis the ugliest yet. A yellow-faced girl brat, with eyes +like an owl's in an ivy-bush, and with a voice like a very peacocks. +Another mawking, plain slut that no man will take off my hands." + +He did not see her again for six years. But little wit was needed to +learn that 'twas best to keep her out of his sight, as her sisters were +kept, and this was done without difficulty, as he avoided the wing of the +house where the children lived, as if it were stricken with the plague. + +But the child Clorinda, it seemed, was of lustier stock than her older +sisters, and this those about her soon found out to their grievous +disturbance. When Mother Posset had drawn her from under her dead +mother's body she had not left shrieking for an hour, but had kept up her +fierce cries until the roof rang with them, and the old woman had jogged +her about and beat her back in the hopes of stifling her, until she was +exhausted and dismayed. For the child would not be stilled, and seemed +to have such strength and persistence in her as surely infant never +showed before. + +"Never saw I such a brat among all I have brought into the world," old +Posset quavered. "She hath the voice of a six-months boy. It cracks my +very ears. Hush thee, then, thou little wild cat." + +This was but the beginning. From the first she grew apace, and in a few +months was a bouncing infant, with a strong back, and a power to make +herself heard such as had not before appeared in the family. When she +desired a thing, she yelled and roared with such a vigour as left no +peace for any creature about her until she was humoured, and this being +the case, rather than have their conversation and love-making put a stop +to, the servants gave her her way. In this they but followed the example +of their betters, of whom we know that it is not to the most virtuous +they submit or to the most learned, but to those who, being crossed, can +conduct themselves in a manner so disagreeable, shrewish or violent, that +life is a burden until they have their will. This the child Clorinda had +the infant wit to discover early, and having once discovered it, she +never ceased to take advantage of her knowledge. Having found in the +days when her one desire was pap, that she had but to roar lustily enough +to find it beside her in her porringer, she tried the game upon all other +occasions. When she had reached but a twelvemonth, she stood stoutly +upon her little feet, and beat her sisters to gain their playthings, and +her nurse for wanting to change her smock. She was so easily thrown into +furies, and so raged and stamped in her baby way that she was a sight to +behold, and the men-servants found amusement in badgering her. To set +Mistress Clorinda in their midst on a winter's night when they were dull, +and to torment her until her little face grew scarlet with the blood +which flew up into it, and she ran from one to the other beating them and +screaming like a young spitfire, was among them a favourite +entertainment. + +"Ifackens!" said the butler one night, "but she is as like Sir Jeoffry in +her temper as one pea is like another. Ay, but she grows blood red just +as he does, and curses in her little way as he does in man's words among +his hounds in their kennel." + +"And she will be of his build, too," said the housekeeper. "What mishap +changed her to a maid instead of a boy, I know not. She would have made +a strapping heir. She has the thigh and shoulders of a handsome +man-child at this hour, and she is not three years old." + +"Sir Jeoffry missed his mark when he called her an ugly brat," said the +woman who had nursed her. "She will be a handsome woman--though large in +build, it may be. She will be a brown beauty, but she will have a colour +in her cheeks and lips like the red of Christmas holly, and her owl's +eyes are as black as sloes, and have fringes on them like the curtains of +a window. See how her hair grows thick on her little head, and how it +curls in great rings. My lady, her poor mother, was once a beauty, but +she was no such beauty as this one will be, for she has her father's long +limbs and fine shoulders, and the will to make every man look her way." + +"Yes," said the housekeeper, who was an elderly woman, "there will be +doings--there will be doings when she is a ripe young maid. She will +take her way, and God grant she mayn't be _too_ like her father and +follow his." + +It was true that she had no resemblance to her plain sisters, and bore no +likeness to them in character. The two elder children, Anne and Barbara, +were too meek-spirited to be troublesome; but during Clorinda's infancy +Mistress Margery Wimpole watched her rapid growth with fear and qualms. +She dare not reprove the servants who were ruining her by their +treatment, and whose manners were forming her own. Sir Jeoffry's +servants were no more moral than their master, and being brought up as +she was among them, their young mistress became strangely familiar with +many sights and sounds it is not the fortune of most young misses of +breeding to see and hear. The cooks and kitchen-wenches were flighty +with the grooms and men-servants, and little Mistress Clorinda, having a +passion for horses and dogs, spent many an hour in the stables with the +women who, for reasons of their own, were pleased enough to take her +there as an excuse for seeking amusement for themselves. She played in +the kennels and among the horses' heels, and learned to use oaths as +roundly as any Giles or Tom whose work was to wield the curry comb. It +was indeed a curious thing to hear her red baby mouth pour forth curses +and unseemly words as she would at any one who crossed her. Her temper +and hot-headedness carried all before them, and the grooms and stable- +boys found great sport in the language my young lady used in her innocent +furies. But balk her in a whim, and she would pour forth the eloquence +of a fish-wife or a lady of easy virtue in a pot-house quarrel. There +was no human creature near her who had mind or heart enough to see the +awfulness of her condition, or to strive to teach her to check her +passions; and in the midst of these perilous surroundings the little +virago grew handsomer and of finer carriage every hour, as if on the rank +diet that fed her she throve and flourished. + +There came a day at last when she had reached six years old, when by a +trick of chance a turn was given to the wheel of her fate. + +She had not reached three when a groom first set her on a horse's back +and led her about the stable-yard, and she had so delighted in her +exalted position, and had so shouted for pleasure and clutched her +steed's rein and clucked at him, that her audience had looked on with +roars of laughter. From that time she would be put up every day, and as +time went on showed such unchildish courage and spirit that she furnished +to her servant companions a new pastime. Soon she would not be held on, +but riding astride like a boy, would sit up as straight as a man and +swear at her horse, beating him with her heels and little fists if his +pace did not suit her. She knew no fear, and would have used a whip so +readily that the men did not dare to trust her with one, and knew they +must not mount her on a steed too mettlesome. By the time she passed her +sixth birthday she could ride as well as a grown man, and was as familiar +with her father's horses as he himself, though he knew nothing of the +matter, it being always contrived that she should be out of sight when he +visited his hunters. + +It so chanced that the horse he rode the oftenest was her favourite, and +many were the tempests of rage she fell into when she went to the stable +to play with the animal and did not find him in his stall, because his +master had ordered him out. At such times she would storm at the men in +the stable-yard and call them ill names for their impudence in letting +the beast go, which would cause them great merriment, as she knew nothing +of who the man was who had balked her, since she was, in truth, not so +much as conscious of her father's existence, never having seen or even +heard more of him than his name, which she in no manner connected with +herself. + +"Could Sir Jeoffry himself but once see and hear her when she storms at +us and him, because he dares to ride his own beast," one of the older men +said once, in the midst of their laughter, "I swear he would burst forth +laughing and be taken with her impudent spirit, her temper is so like his +own. She is his own flesh and blood, and as full of hell-fire as he." + +Upon this morning which proved eventful to her, she had gone to the +stables, as was her daily custom, and going into the stall where the big +black horse was wont to stand, she found it empty. Her spirit rose hot +within her in the moment. She clenched her fists, and began to stamp and +swear in such a manner as it would be scarce fitting to record. + +"Where is he now?" she cried. "He is my own horse, and shall not be +ridden. Who is the man who takes him? Who? Who?" + +"'Tis a fellow who hath no manners," said the man she stormed at, +grinning and thrusting his tongue in his cheek. "He says 'tis his beast, +and not yours, and he will have him when he chooses." + +"'Tis not his--'tis mine!" shrieked Miss, her little face inflamed with +passion. "I will kill him! 'Tis my horse. He _shall_ be mine!" + +For a while the men tormented her, to hear her rave and see her passion, +for, in truth, the greater tempest she was in, the better she was worth +beholding, having a colour so rich, and eyes so great and black and +flaming. At such times there was naught of the feminine in her, and +indeed always she looked more like a handsome boy than a girl, her growth +being for her age extraordinary. At length a lad who was a helper said +to mock her-- + +"The man hath him at the door before the great steps now. I saw him +stand there waiting but a moment ago. The man hath gone in the house." + +She turned and ran to find him. The front part of the house she barely +knew the outside of, as she was kept safely in the west wing and below +stairs, and when taken out for the air was always led privately by a side +way--never passing through the great hall, where her father might chance +to encounter her. + +She knew best this side-entrance, and made her way to it, meaning to +search until she found the front. She got into the house, and her spirit +being roused, marched boldly through corridors and into rooms she had +never seen before, and being so mere a child, notwithstanding her strange +wilfulness and daring, the novelty of the things she saw so far +distracted her mind from the cause of her anger that she stopped more +than once to stare up at a portrait on a wall, or to take in her hand +something she was curious concerning. + +When she at last reached the entrance-hall, coming into it through a door +she pushed open, using all her childish strength, she stood in the midst +of it and gazed about her with a new curiosity and pleasure. It was a +fine place, with antlers, and arms, and foxes' brushes hung upon the +walls, and with carved panels of black oak, and oaken floor and +furnishings. All in it was disorderly and showed rough usage; but once +it had been a notable feature of the house, and well worth better care +than had been bestowed upon it. She discovered on the walls many +trophies that attracted her, but these she could not reach, and could +only gaze and wonder at; but on an old oaken settle she found some things +she could lay hands on, and forthwith seized and sat down upon the floor +to play with them. One of them was a hunting-crop, which she brandished +grandly, until she was more taken with a powder-flask which it so +happened her father, Sir Jeoffry, had lain down but a few minutes before, +in passing through. He was going forth coursing, and had stepped into +the dining-hall to toss off a bumper of brandy. + +When he had helped himself from the buffet, and came back in haste, the +first thing he clapped eyes on was his offspring pouring forth the powder +from his flask upon the oaken floor. He had never seen her since that +first occasion after the unfortunate incident of her birth, and beholding +a child wasting his good powder at the moment he most wanted it and had +no time to spare, and also not having had it recalled to his mind for +years that he was a parent, except when he found himself forced +reluctantly to pay for some small need, he beheld in the young offender +only some impudent servant's brat, who had strayed into his domain and +applied itself at once to mischief. + +He sprang upon her, and seizing her by the arm, whirled her to her feet +with no little violence, snatching the powder-flask from her, and dealing +her a sound box on the ear. + +"Blood and damnation on thee, thou impudent little baggage!" he shouted. +"I'll break thy neck for thee, little scurvy beast;" and pulled the bell +as he were like to break the wire. + +But he had reckoned falsely on what he dealt with. Miss uttered a shriek +of rage which rang through the roof like a clarion. She snatched the +crop from the floor, rushed at him, and fell upon him like a thousand +little devils, beating his big legs with all the strength of her passion, +and pouring forth oaths such as would have done credit to Doll Lightfoot +herself. + +"Damn _thee_!--damn _thee_!"--she roared and screamed, flogging him. +"I'll tear thy eyes out! I'll cut thy liver from thee! Damn thy soul to +hell!" + +And this choice volley was with such spirit and fury poured forth, that +Sir Jeoffry let his hand drop from the bell, fell into a great burst of +laughter, and stood thus roaring while she beat him and shrieked and +stormed. + +The servants, hearing the jangled bell, attracted by the tumult, and of a +sudden missing Mistress Clorinda, ran in consternation to the hall, and +there beheld this truly pretty sight--Miss beating her father's legs, and +tearing at him tooth and nail, while he stood shouting with laughter as +if he would split his sides. + +"Who is the little cockatrice?" he cried, the tears streaming down his +florid cheeks. "Who is the young she-devil? Ods bodikins, who is she?" + +For a second or so the servants stared at each other aghast, not knowing +what to say, or venturing to utter a word; and then the nurse, who had +come up panting, dared to gasp forth the truth. + +"'Tis Mistress Clorinda, Sir Jeoffry," she stammered--"my lady's last +infant--the one of whom she died in childbed." + +His big laugh broke in two, as one might say. He looked down at the +young fury and stared. She was out of breath with beating him, and had +ceased and fallen back apace, and was staring up at him also, breathing +defiance and hatred. Her big black eyes were flames, her head was thrown +up and back, her cheeks were blood scarlet, and her great crop of crow- +black hair stood out about her beauteous, wicked little virago face, as +if it might change into Medusa's snakes. + +"Damn thee!" she shrieked at him again. "I'll kill thee, devil!" + +Sir Jeoffry broke into his big laugh afresh. + +"Clorinda do they call thee, wench?" he said. "Jeoffry thou shouldst +have been but for thy mother's folly. A fiercer little devil for thy +size I never saw--nor a handsomer one." + +And he seized her from where she stood, and held her at his big arms' +length, gazing at her uncanny beauty with looks that took her in from +head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER III--Wherein Sir Jeoffry's boon companions drink a toast + + +Her beauty of face, her fine body, her strength of limb, and great growth +for her age, would have pleased him if she had possessed no other +attraction, but the daring of her fury and her stable-boy breeding so +amused him and suited his roystering tastes that he took to her as the +finest plaything in the world. + +He set her on the floor, forgetting his coursing, and would have made +friends with her, but at first she would have none of him, and scowled at +him in spite of all he did. The brandy by this time had mounted to his +head and put him in the mood for frolic, liquor oftenest making him +gamesome. He felt as if he were playing with a young dog or marking the +spirit of a little fighting cock. He ordered the servants back to their +kitchen, who stole away, the women amazed, and the men concealing grins +which burst forth into guffaws of laughter when they came into their hall +below. + +"'Tis as we said," they chuckled. "He had but to see her beauty and find +her a bigger devil than he, and 'twas done. The mettle of her--damning +and flogging him! Never was there a finer sight! She feared him no more +than if he had been a spaniel--and he roaring and laughing till he was +like to burst." + +"Dost know who I am?" Sir Jeoffry was asking the child, grinning himself +as he stood before her where she sat on the oaken settle on which he had +lifted her. + +"No," quoth little Mistress, her black brows drawn down, her handsome +owl's eyes verily seeming to look him through and through in search of +somewhat; for, in sooth, her rage abating before his jovial humour, the +big burly laugher attracted her attention, though she was not disposed to +show him that she leaned towards any favour or yielding. + +"I am thy Dad," he said. "'Twas thy Dad thou gavest such a trouncing. +And thou hast an arm, too. Let's cast an eye on it." + +He took her wrist and pushed up her sleeve, but she dragged back. + +"Will not be mauled," she cried. "Get away from me!" + +He shouted with laughter again. He had seen that the little arm was as +white and hard as marble, and had such muscles as a great boy might have +been a braggart about. + +"By Gad!" he said, elated. "What a wench of six years old. Wilt have my +crop and trounce thy Dad again!" + +He picked up the crop from the place where she had thrown it, and +forthwith gave it in her hand. She took it, but was no more in the +humour to beat him, and as she looked still frowning from him to the +whip, the latter brought back to her mind the horse she had set out in +search of. + +"Where is my horse?" she said, and 'twas in the tone of an imperial +demand. "Where is he?" + +"Thy horse!" he echoed. "Which is thy horse then?" + +"Rake is my horse," she answered--"the big black one. The man took him +again;" and she ripped out a few more oaths and unchaste expressions, +threatening what she would do for the man in question; the which +delighted him more than ever. "Rake is my horse," she ended. "None else +shall ride him." + +"None else?" cried he. "Thou canst not ride him, baggage!" + +She looked at him with scornful majesty. + +"Where is he?" she demanded. And the next instant hearing the beast's +restless feet grinding into the gravel outside as he fretted at having +been kept waiting so long, she remembered what the stable-boy had said of +having seen her favourite standing before the door, and struggling and +dropping from the settle, she ran to look out; whereupon having done so, +she shouted in triumph. + +"He is here!" she said. "I see him;" and went pell-mell down the stone +steps to his side. + +Sir Jeoffry followed her in haste. 'Twould not have been to his humour +now to have her brains kicked out. + +"Hey!" he called, as he hurried. "Keep away from his heels, thou little +devil." + +But she had run to the big beast's head with another shout, and caught +him round his foreleg, laughing, and Rake bent his head down and nosed +her in a fumbling caress, on which, the bridle coming within her reach, +she seized it and held his head that she might pat him, to which +familiarity the beast was plainly well accustomed. + +"He is my horse," quoth she grandly when her father reached her. "He +will not let Giles play so." + +Sir Jeoffry gazed and swelled with pleasure in her. + +"Would have said 'twas a lie if I had not seen it," he said to himself. +"'Tis no girl this, I swear. I thought 'twas my horse," he said to her, +"but 'tis plain enough he is thine." + +"Put me up!" said his new-found offspring. + +"Hast rid him before?" Sir Jeoffry asked, with some lingering misgiving. +"Tell thy Dad if thou hast rid him." + +She gave him a look askance under her long fringed lids--a surly yet half- +slyly relenting look, because she wanted to get her way of him, and had +the cunning wit and shrewdness of a child witch. + +"Ay!" quoth she. "Put me up--Dad!" + +He was not a man of quick mind, his brain having been too many years +bemuddled with drink, but he had a rough instinct which showed him all +the wondrous shrewdness of her casting that last word at him to wheedle +him, even though she looked sullen in the saying it. It made him roar +again for very exultation. + +"Put me up, Dad!" he cried. "That will I--and see what thou wilt do." + +He lifted her, she springing as he set his hands beneath her arms, and +flinging her legs over astride across the saddle when she reached it. She +was all fire and excitement, and caught the reins like an old huntsman, +and with such a grasp as was amazing. She sat up with a straight, strong +back, her whole face glowing and sparkling with exultant joy. Rake +seemed to answer to her excited little laugh almost as much as to her +hand. It seemed to wake his spirit and put him in good-humour. He +started off with her down the avenue at a light, spirited trot, while +she, clinging with her little legs and sitting firm and fearless, made +him change into canter and gallop, having actually learned all his paces +like a lesson, and knowing his mouth as did his groom, who was her +familiar and slave. Had she been of the build ordinary with children of +her age, she could not have stayed upon his back; but she sat him like a +child jockey, and Sir Jeoffry, watching and following her, clapped his +hands boisterously and hallooed for joy. + +"Lord, Lord!" he said. "There's not a man in the shire has such another +little devil--and Rake, 'her horse,'" grinning--"and she to ride him so. +I love thee, wench--hang me if I do not!" + +She made him play with her and with Rake for a good hour, and then took +him back to the stables, and there ordered him about finely among the +dogs and horses, perceiving that somehow this great man she had got hold +of was a creature who was in power and could be made use of. + +When they returned to the house, he had her to eat her mid-day meal with +him, when she called for ale, and drank it, and did good trencher duty, +making him the while roar with laughter at her impudent child-talk. + +"Never have I so split my sides since I was twenty," he said. "It makes +me young again to roar so. She shall not leave my sight, since by chance +I have found her. 'Tis too good a joke to lose, when times are dull, as +they get to be as a man's years go on." + +He sent for her woman and laid strange new commands on her. + +"Where hath she hitherto been kept?" he asked. + +"In the west wing, where are the nurseries, and where Mistress Wimpole +abides with Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne," the woman answered, with +a frightened curtsey. + +"Henceforth she shall live in this part of the house where I do," he +said. "Make ready the chambers that were my lady's, and prepare to stay +there with her." + +From that hour the child's fate was sealed. He made himself her +playfellow, and romped with and indulged her until she became fonder of +him than of any groom or stable-boy she had been companions with before. +But, indeed, she had never been given to bestowing much affection on +those around her, seeming to feel herself too high a personage to show +softness. The ones she showed most favour to were those who served her +best; and even to them it was always _favour_ she showed, not tenderness. +Certain dogs and horses she was fond of, Rake coming nearest to her +heart, and the place her father won in her affections was somewhat like +to Rake's. She made him her servant and tyrannised over him, but at the +same time followed and imitated him as if she had been a young spaniel he +was training. The life the child led, it would have broken a motherly +woman's heart to hear about; but there was no good woman near her, her +mother's relatives, and even Sir Jeoffry's own, having cut themselves off +early from them--Wildairs Hall and its master being no great credit to +those having the misfortune to be connected with them. The neighbouring +gentry had gradually ceased to visit the family some time before her +ladyship's death, and since then the only guests who frequented the place +were a circle of hunting, drinking, and guzzling boon companions of Sir +Jeoffry's own, who joined him in all his carousals and debaucheries. + +To these he announced his discovery of his daughter with tumultuous +delight. He told them, amid storms of laughter, of his first encounter +with her; of her flogging him with his own crop, and cursing him like a +trooper; of her claiming Rake as her own horse, and swearing at the man +who had dared to take him from the stable to ride; and of her sitting him +like an infant jockey, and seeming, by some strange power, to have +mastered him as no other had been able heretofore to do. Then he had her +brought into the dining-room, where they sat over their bottles drinking +deep, and setting her on the table, he exhibited her to them, boasting of +her beauty, showing them her splendid arm and leg and thigh, measuring +her height, and exciting her to test the strength of the grip of her hand +and the power of her little fist. + +"Saw you ever a wench like her?" he cried, as they all shouted with +laughter and made jokes not too polite, but such as were of the sole kind +they were given to. "Has any man among you begot a boy as big and +handsome? Hang me! if she would not knock down any lad of ten if she +were in a fury." + +"We wild dogs are out of favour with the women," cried one of the best +pleased among them, a certain Lord Eldershawe, whose seat was a few miles +from Wildairs Hall--"women like nincompoops and chaplains. Let us take +this one for our toast, and bring her up as girls should be brought up to +be companions for men. I give you, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs--Mistress +Clorinda, the enslaver of six years old--bumpers, lads!--bumpers!" + +And they set her in the very midst of the big table and drank her health, +standing, bursting into a jovial, ribald song; and the child, excited by +the noise and laughter, actually broke forth and joined them in a high, +strong treble, the song being one she was quite familiar with, having +heard it often enough in the stable to have learned the words pat. + +* * * * * + +Two weeks after his meeting with her, Sir Jeoffry was seized with the +whim to go up to London and set her forth with finery. 'Twas but rarely +he went up to town, having neither money to waste, nor finding great +attraction in the more civilised quarters of the world. He brought her +back such clothes as for richness and odd, unsuitable fashion child never +wore before. There were brocades that stood alone with splendour of +fabric, there was rich lace, fine linen, ribbands, farthingales, +swansdown tippets, and little slippers with high red heels. He had a +wardrobe made for her such as the finest lady of fashion could scarcely +boast, and the tiny creature was decked out in it, and on great occasions +even strung with her dead mother's jewels. + +Among these strange things, he had the fantastical notion to have made +for her several suits of boy's clothes: pink and blue satin coats, little +white, or amber, or blue satin breeches, ruffles of lace, and waistcoats +embroidered with colours and silver or gold. There was also a small +scarlet-coated hunting costume and all the paraphernalia of the chase. It +was Sir Jeoffry's finest joke to bid her woman dress her as a boy, and +then he would have her brought to the table where he and his fellows were +dining together, and she would toss off her little bumper with the best +of them, and rip out childish oaths, and sing them, to their delight, +songs she had learned from the stable-boys. She cared more for dogs and +horses than for finery, and when she was not in the humour to be made a +puppet of, neither tirewoman nor devil could put her into her brocades; +but she liked the excitement of the dining-room, and, as time went on, +would be dressed in her flowered petticoats in a passion of eagerness to +go and show herself, and coquet in her lace and gewgaws with men old +enough to be her father, and loose enough to find her premature airs and +graces a fine joke indeed. She ruled them all with her temper and her +shrewish will. She would have her way in all things, or there should be +no sport with her, and she would sing no songs for them, but would flout +them bitterly, and sit in a great chair with her black brows drawn down, +and her whole small person breathing rancour and disdain. + +Sir Jeoffry, who had bullied his wife, had now the pleasurable experience +of being henpecked by his daughter; for so, indeed, he was. Miss ruled +him with a rod of iron, and wielded her weapon with such skill that +before a year had elapsed he obeyed her as the servants below stairs had +done in her infancy. She had no fear of his great oaths, for she +possessed a strangely varied stock of her own upon which she could always +draw, and her voice being more shrill than his, if not of such bigness, +her ear-piercing shrieks and indomitable perseverance always proved too +much for him in the end. It must be admitted likewise that her violence +of temper and power of will were somewhat beyond his own, notwithstanding +her tender years and his reputation. In fact, he found himself obliged +to observe this, and finally made something of a merit and joke of it. + +"There is no managing of the little shrew," he would say. "Neither man +nor devil can bend or break her. If I smashed every bone in her carcass, +she would die shrieking hell at me and defiance." + +If one admits the truth, it must be owned that if she had not had +bestowed upon her by nature gifts of beauty and vivacity so +extraordinary, and had been cursed with a thousandth part of the +vixenishness she displayed every day of her life, he would have broken +every bone in her carcass without a scruple or a qualm. But her beauty +seemed but to grow with every hour that passed, and it was by exceeding +good fortune exactly the fashion of beauty which he admired the most. +When she attained her tenth year she was as tall as a fine boy of twelve, +and of such a shape and carriage as young Diana herself might have +envied. Her limbs were long, and most divinely moulded, and of a +strength that caused admiration and amazement in all beholders. Her +father taught her to follow him in the hunting-field, and when she +appeared upon her horse, clad in her little breeches and top-boots and +scarlet coat, child though she was, she set the field on fire. She +learned full early how to coquet and roll her fine eyes; but it is also +true that she was not much of a languisher, as all her ogling was of a +destructive or proudly-attacking kind. It was her habit to leave others +to languish, and herself to lead them with disdainful vivacity to doing +so. She was the talk, and, it must be admitted, the scandal, of the +county by the day she was fifteen. The part wherein she lived was a +boisterous hunting shire where there were wide ditches and high hedges to +leap, and rough hills and moors to gallop over, and within the region +neither polite life nor polite education were much thought of; but even +in the worst portions of it there were occasional virtuous matrons who +shook their heads with much gravity and wonder over the beautiful +Mistress Clorinda. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--Lord Twemlow's chaplain visits his patron's kinsman, and +Mistress Clorinda shines on her birthday night + + +Uncivilised and almost savage as her girlish life was, and unregulated by +any outward training as was her mind, there were none who came in contact +with her who could be blind to a certain strong, clear wit, and +unconquerableness of purpose, for which she was remarkable. She ever +knew full well what she desired to gain or to avoid, and once having +fixed her mind upon any object, she showed an adroitness and brilliancy +of resource, a control of herself and others, the which there was no +circumventing. She never made a blunder because she could not control +the expression of her emotions; and when she gave way to a passion, 'twas +because she chose to do so, having naught to lose, and in the midst of +all their riotous jesting with her the boon companions of Sir Jeoffry +knew this. + +"Had she a secret to keep, child though she is," said Eldershawe, "there +is none--man or woman--who could scare or surprise it from her; and 'tis +a strange quality to note so early in a female creature." + +She spent her days with her father and his dissolute friends, treated +half like a boy, half a fantastical queen, until she was fourteen. She +hunted and coursed, shot birds, leaped hedges and ditches, reigned at the +riotous feastings, and coquetted with these mature, and in some cases +elderly, men, as if she looked forward to doing naught else all her life. + +But one day, after she had gone out hunting with her father, riding Rake, +who had been given to her, and wearing her scarlet coat, breeches, and +top-boots, one of the few remaining members of her mother's family sent +his chaplain to remonstrate and advise her father to command her to +forbear from appearing in such impudent attire. + +There was, indeed, a stirring scene when this message was delivered by +its bearer. The chaplain was an awkward, timid creature, who had heard +stories enough of Wildairs Hall and its master to undertake his mission +with a quaking soul. To have refused to obey any behest of his patron +would have cost him his living, and knowing this beyond a doubt, he was +forced to gird up his loins and gather together all the little courage he +could muster to beard the lion in his den. + +The first thing he beheld on entering the big hall was a beautiful tall +youth wearing his own rich black hair, and dressed in scarlet coat for +hunting. He was playing with a dog, making it leap over his crop, and +both laughing and swearing at its clumsiness. He glanced at the chaplain +with a laughing, brilliant eye, returning the poor man's humble bow with +a slight nod as he plainly hearkened to what he said as he explained his +errand. + +"I come from my Lord Twemlow, who is your master's kinsman," the chaplain +faltered; "I am bidden to see and speak to him if it be possible, and his +lordship much desires that Sir Jeoffry will allow it to be so. My Lord +Twemlow--" + +The beautiful youth left his playing with the dog and came forward with +all the air of the young master of the house. + +"My Lord Twemlow sends you?" he said. "'Tis long since his lordship +favoured us with messages. Where is Sir Jeoffry, Lovatt?" + +"In the dining-hall," answered the servant. "He went there but a moment +past, Mistress." + +The chaplain gave such a start as made him drop his shovel hat. +"Mistress!" And this was she--this fine young creature who was tall and +grandly enough built and knit to seem a radiant being even when clad in +masculine attire. He picked up his hat and bowed so low that it almost +swept the floor in his obeisance. He was not used to female beauty which +deigned to cast great smiling eyes upon him, for at my Lord Twemlow's +table he sat so far below the salt that women looked not his way. + +This beauty looked at him as if she was amused at the thought of +something in her own mind. He wondered tremblingly if she guessed what +he came for and knew how her father would receive it. + +"Come with me," she said; "I will take you to him. He would not see you +if I did not. He does not love his lordship tenderly enough." + +She led the way, holding her head jauntily and high, while he cast down +his eyes lest his gaze should be led to wander in a way unseemly in one +of his cloth. Such a foot and such--! He felt it more becoming and +safer to lift his eyes to the ceiling and keep them there, which gave him +somewhat the aspect of one praying. + +Sir Jeoffry stood at the buffet with a flagon of ale in his hand, taking +his stirrup cup. At the sight of a stranger and one attired in the garb +of a chaplain, he scowled surprisedly. + +"What's this?" quoth he. "What dost want, Clo? I have no leisure for a +sermon." + +Mistress Clorinda went to the buffet and filled a tankard for herself and +carried it back to the table, on the edge of which she half sat, with one +leg bent, one foot resting on the floor. + +"Time thou wilt have to take, Dad," she said, with an arch grin, showing +two rows of gleaming pearls. "This gentleman is my Lord Twemlow's +chaplain, whom he sends to exhort you, requesting you to have the +civility to hear him." + +"Exhort be damned, and Twemlow be damned too!" cried Sir Jeoffry, who had +a great quarrel with his lordship and hated him bitterly. "What does the +canting fool mean?" + +"Sir," faltered the poor message-bearer, "his lordship hath--hath been +concerned--having heard--" + +The handsome creature balanced against the table took the tankard from +her lips and laughed. + +"Having heard thy daughter rides to field in breeches, and is an unseemly- +behaving wench," she cried, "his lordship sends his chaplain to deliver a +discourse thereon--not choosing to come himself. Is not that thy errand, +reverend sir?" + +The chaplain, poor man, turned pale, having caught, as she spoke, a +glimpse of Sir Jeoffry's reddening visage. + +"Madam," he faltered, bowing--"Madam, I ask pardon of you most humbly! If +it were your pleasure to deign to--to--allow me--" + +She set the tankard on the table with a rollicking smack, and thrust her +hands in her breeches-pockets, swaying with laughter; and, indeed, 'twas +ringing music, her rich great laugh, which, when she grew of riper years, +was much lauded and written verses on by her numerous swains. + +"If 'twere my pleasure to go away and allow you to speak, free from the +awkwardness of a young lady's presence," she said. "But 'tis not, as it +happens, and if I stay here, I shall be a protection." + +In truth, he required one. Sir Jeoffry broke into a torrent of +blasphemy. He damned both kinsman and chaplain, and raged at the +impudence of both in daring to approach him, swearing to horsewhip my +lord if they ever met, and to have the chaplain kicked out of the house, +and beyond the park gates themselves. But Mistress Clorinda chose to +make it her whim to take it in better humour, and as a joke with a fine +point to it. She laughed at her father's storming, and while the +chaplain quailed before it with pallid countenance and fairly hang-dog +look, she seemed to find it but a cause for outbursts of merriment. + +"Hold thy tongue a bit, Dad," she cried, when he had reached his loudest, +"and let his reverence tell us what his message is. We have not even +heard it." + +"Want not to hear it!" shouted Sir Jeoffry. "Dost think I'll stand his +impudence? Not I!" + +"What was your message?" demanded the young lady of the chaplain. "You +cannot return without delivering it. Tell it to me. _I_ choose it shall +be told." + +The chaplain clutched and fumbled with his hat, pale, and dropping his +eyes upon the floor, for very fear. + +"Pluck up thy courage, man," said Clorinda. "I will uphold thee. The +message?" + +"Your pardon, Madam--'twas this," the chaplain faltered. "My lord +commanded me to warn your honoured father--that if he did not beg you to +leave off wearing--wearing--" + +"Breeches," said Mistress Clorinda, slapping her knee. + +The chaplain blushed with modesty, though he was a man of sallow +countenance. + +"No gentleman," he went on, going more lamely at each +word--"notwithstanding your great beauty--no gentleman--" + +"Would marry me?" the young lady ended for him, with merciful +good-humour. + +"For if you--if a young lady be permitted to bear herself in such a +manner as will cause her to be held lightly, she can make no match that +will not be a dishonour to her family--and--and--" + +"And may do worse!" quoth Mistress Clo, and laughed until the room rang. + +Sir Jeoffry's rage was such as made him like to burst; but she restrained +him when he would have flung his tankard at the chaplain's head, and amid +his storm of curses bundled the poor man out of the room, picking up his +hat which in his hurry and fright he let fall, and thrusting it into his +hand. + +"Tell his lordship," she said, laughing still as she spoke the final +words, "that I say he is right--and I will see to it that no disgrace +befalls him." + +"Forsooth, Dad," she said, returning, "perhaps the old son of +a--"--something unmannerly--"is not so great a fool. As for me, I mean +to make a fine marriage and be a great lady, and I know of none +hereabouts to suit me but the old Earl of Dunstanwolde, and 'tis said he +rates at all but modest women, and, in faith, he might not find breeches +mannerly. I will not hunt in them again." + +She did not, though once or twice when she was in a wild mood, and her +father entertained at dinner those of his companions whom she was the +most inclined to, she swaggered in among them in her daintiest suits of +male attire, and caused their wine-shot eyes to gloat over her boyish- +maiden charms and jaunty airs and graces. + +On the night of her fifteenth birthday Sir Jeoffry gave a great dinner to +his boon companions and hers. She had herself commanded that there +should be no ladies at the feast; for she chose to announce that she +should appear at no more such, having the wit to see that she was too +tall a young lady for childish follies, and that she had now arrived at +an age when her market must be made. + +"I shall have women enough henceforth to be dull with," she said. "Thou +art but a poor match-maker, Dad, or wouldst have thought of it for me. +But not once has it come into thy pate that I have no mother to angle in +my cause and teach me how to cast sheep's eyes at bachelors. Long-tailed +petticoats from this time for me, and hoops and patches, and ogling over +fans--until at last, if I play my cards well, some great lord will look +my way and be taken by my shape and my manners." + +"With thy shape, Clo, God knows every man will," laughed Sir Jeoffry, +"but I fear me not with thy manners. Thou hast the manners of a baggage, +and they are second nature to thee." + +"They are what I was born with," answered Mistress Clorinda. "They came +from him that begot me, and he has not since improved them. But +now"--making a great sweeping curtsey, her impudent bright beauty almost +dazzling his eyes--"now, after my birth-night, they will be bettered; but +this one night I will have my last fling." + +When the men trooped into the black oak wainscotted dining-hall on the +eventful night, they found their audacious young hostess awaiting them in +greater and more daring beauty than they had ever before beheld. She +wore knee-breeches of white satin, a pink satin coat embroidered with +silver roses, white silk stockings, and shoes with great buckles of +brilliants, revealing a leg so round and strong and delicately moulded, +and a foot so arched and slender, as surely never before, they swore one +and all, woman had had to display. She met them standing jauntily +astride upon the hearth, her back to the fire, and she greeted each one +as he came with some pretty impudence. Her hair was tied back and +powdered, her black eyes were like lodestars, drawing all men, and her +colour was that of a ripe pomegranate. She had a fine, haughty little +Roman nose, a mouth like a scarlet bow, a wonderful long throat, and +round cleft chin. A dazzling mien indeed she possessed, and ready enough +she was to shine before them. Sir Jeoffry was now elderly, having been a +man of forty when united to his conjugal companion. Most of his friends +were of his own age, so that it had not been with unripe youth Mistress +Clorinda had been in the habit of consorting. But upon this night a +newcomer was among the guests. He was a young relation of one of the +older men, and having come to his kinsman's house upon a visit, and +having proved himself, in spite of his youth, to be a young fellow of +humour, high courage in the hunting-field, and by no means averse either +to entering upon or discussing intrigue and gallant adventure, had made +himself something of a favourite. His youthful beauty for a man almost +equalled that of Mistress Clorinda herself. He had an elegant, fine +shape, of great strength and vigour, his countenance was delicately ruddy +and handsomely featured, his curling fair hair flowed loose upon his +shoulders, and, though masculine in mould, his ankle was as slender and +his buckled shoe as arched as her own. + +He was, it is true, twenty-four years of age and a man, while she was but +fifteen and a woman, but being so tall and built with such unusual vigour +of symmetry, she was a beauteous match for him, and both being attired in +fashionable masculine habit, these two pretty young fellows standing +smiling saucily at each other were a charming, though singular, +spectacle. + +This young man was already well known in the modish world of town for his +beauty and adventurous spirit. He was indeed already a beau and +conqueror of female hearts. It was suspected that he cherished a private +ambition to set the modes in beauties and embroidered waistcoats himself +in time, and be as renowned abroad and as much the town talk as certain +other celebrated beaux had been before him. The art of ogling tenderly +and of uttering soft nothings he had learned during his first season in +town, and as he had a great melting blue eye, the figure of an Adonis, +and a white and shapely hand for a ring, he was well equipped for +conquest. He had darted many an inflaming glance at Mistress Clorinda +before the first meats were removed. Even in London he had heard a vague +rumour of this handsome young woman, bred among her father's dogs, +horses, and boon companions, and ripening into a beauty likely to make +town faces pale. He had almost fallen into the spleen on hearing that +she had left her boy's clothes and vowed she would wear them no more, as +above all things he had desired to see how she carried them and what +charms they revealed. On hearing from his host and kinsman that she had +said that on her birth-night she would bid them farewell for ever by +donning them for the last time, he was consumed with eagerness to obtain +an invitation. This his kinsman besought for him, and, behold! the first +glance the beauty shot at him pierced his inflammable bosom like a dart. +Never before had it been his fortune to behold female charms so dazzling +and eyes of such lustre and young majesty. The lovely baggage had a +saucy way of standing with her white jewelled hands in her pockets like a +pretty fop, and throwing up her little head like a modish beauty who was +of royal blood; and these two tricks alone, he felt, might have set on +fire the heart of a man years older and colder than himself. + +If she had been of the order of soft-natured charmers, they would have +fallen into each other's eyes before the wine was changed; but this +Mistress Clorinda was not. She did not fear to meet the full battery of +his enamoured glances, but she did not choose to return them. She played +her part of the pretty young fellow who was a high-spirited beauty, with +more of wit and fire than she had ever played it before. The rollicking +hunting-squires, who had been her play-fellows so long, devoured her with +their delighted glances and roared with laughter at her sallies. Their +jokes and flatteries were not of the most seemly, but she had not been +bred to seemliness and modesty, and was no more ignorant than if she had +been, in sooth, some gay young springald of a lad. To her it was part of +the entertainment that upon this last night they conducted themselves as +beseemed her boyish masquerading. Though country-bred, she had lived +among companions who were men of the world and lived without restraints, +and she had so far learned from them that at fifteen years old she was as +worldly and as familiar with the devices of intrigue as she would be at +forty. So far she had not been pushed to practising them, her singular +life having thrown her among few of her own age, and those had chanced to +be of a sort she disdainfully counted as country bumpkins. + +But the young gallant introduced to-night into the world she lived in was +no bumpkin, and was a dandy of the town. His name was Sir John Oxon, and +he had just come into his title and a pretty property. His hands were as +white and bejewelled as her own, his habit was of the latest fashionable +cut, and his fair flowing locks scattered a delicate French perfume she +did not even know the name of. + +But though she observed all these attractions and found them powerful, +young Sir John remarked, with a slight sinking qualm, that her great eye +did not fall before his amorous glances, but met them with high smiling +readiness, and her colour never blanched or heightened a whit for all +their masterly skilfulness. But he had sworn to himself that he would +approach close enough to her to fire off some fine speech before the +night was ended, and he endeavoured to bear himself with at least an +outward air of patience until he beheld his opportunity. + +When the last dish was removed and bottles and bumpers stood upon the +board, she sprang up on her chair and stood before them all, smiling down +the long table with eyes like flashing jewels. Her hands were thrust in +her pockets--with her pretty young fop's air, and she drew herself to her +full comely height, her beauteous lithe limbs and slender feet set +smartly together. Twenty pairs of masculine eyes were turned upon her +beauty, but none so ardently as the young one's across the table. + +"Look your last on my fine shape," she proclaimed in her high, rich +voice. "You will see but little of the lower part of it when it is hid +in farthingales and petticoats. Look your last before I go to don my +fine lady's furbelows." + +And when they filled their glasses and lifted them and shouted admiring +jests to her, she broke into one of her stable-boy songs, and sang it in +the voice of a skylark. + +No man among them was used to showing her the courtesies of polite +breeding. She had been too long a boy to them for that to have entered +any mind, and when she finished her song, sprang down, and made for the +door, Sir John beheld his long-looked-for chance, and was there before +her to open it with a great bow, made with his hand upon his heart and +his fair locks falling. + +"You rob us of the rapture of beholding great beauties, Madam," he said +in a low, impassioned voice. "But there should be indeed but _one_ happy +man whose bliss it is to gaze upon such perfections." + +"I am fifteen years old to-night," she answered; "and as yet I have not +set eyes upon him." + +"How do you know that, madam?" he said, bowing lower still. + +She laughed her great rich laugh. + +"Forsooth, I do not know," she retorted. "He may be here this very night +among this company; and as it might be so, I go to don my modesty." + +And she bestowed on him a parting shot in the shape of one of her +prettiest young fop waves of the hand, and was gone from him. + +* * * * * + +When the door closed behind her and Sir John Oxon returned to the table, +for a while a sort of dulness fell upon the party. Not being of quick +minds or sentiments, these country roisterers failed to understand the +heavy cloud of spleen and lack of spirit they experienced, and as they +filled their glasses and tossed off one bumper after another to cure it, +they soon began again to laugh and fell into boisterous joking. + +They talked mostly, indeed, of their young playfellow, of whom they felt, +in some indistinct manner, they were to be bereft; they rallied Sir +Jeoffry, told stories of her childhood and made pictures of her budding +beauties, comparing them with those of young ladies who were celebrated +toasts. + +"She will sail among them like a royal frigate," said one; "and they will +pale before her lustre as a tallow dip does before an illumination." + +The clock struck twelve before she returned to them. Just as the last +stroke sounded the door was thrown open, and there she stood, a woman on +each side of her, holding a large silver candelabra bright with wax +tapers high above her, so that she was in a flood of light. + +She was attired in rich brocade of crimson and silver, and wore a great +hooped petticoat, which showed off her grandeur, her waist of no more +bigness than a man's hands could clasp, set in its midst like the stem of +a flower; her black hair was rolled high and circled with jewels, her +fair long throat blazed with a collar of diamonds, and the majesty of her +eye and lip and brow made up a mien so dazzling that every man sprang to +his feet beholding her. + +She made a sweeping obeisance and then stood up before them, her head +thrown back and her lips curving in the triumphant mocking smile of a +great beauty looking upon them all as vassals. + +"Down upon your knees," she cried, "and drink to me kneeling. From this +night all men must bend so--all men on whom I deign to cast my eyes." + + + + +CHAPTER V--"Not I," said she. "There thou mayst trust me. I would not +be found out." + + +She went no more a-hunting in boy's clothes, but from this time forward +wore brocades and paduasoys, fine lawn and lace. Her tirewoman was kept +so busily engaged upon making rich habits, fragrant waters and essences, +and so running at her bidding to change her gown or dress her head in +some new fashion, that her life was made to her a weighty burden to bear, +and also a painful one. Her place had before been an easy one but for +her mistress's choleric temper, but it was so no more. Never had young +lady been so exacting and so tempestuous when not pleased with the +adorning of her face and shape. In the presence of polite strangers, +whether ladies or gentlemen, Mistress Clorinda in these days chose to +chasten her language and give less rein to her fantastical passions, but +alone in her closet with her woman, if a riband did but not suit her +fancy, or a hoop not please, she did not fear to be as scurrilous as she +chose. In this discreet retirement she rapped out oaths and boxed her +woman's ears with a vigorous hand, tore off her gowns and stamped them +beneath her feet, or flung pots of pomade at the poor woman's head. She +took these freedoms with such a readiness and spirit that she was served +with a despatch and humbleness scarcely to be equalled, and, it is +certain, never excelled. + +The high courage and undaunted will which had been the engines she had +used to gain her will from her infant years aided her in these days to +carry out what her keen mind and woman's wit had designed, which was to +take the county by storm with her beauty, and reign toast and enslaver +until such time as she won the prize of a husband of rich estates and +notable rank. + +It was soon bruited abroad, to the amazement of the county, that Mistress +Clorinda Wildairs had changed her strange and unseemly habits of life, +and had become as much a young lady of fashion and breeding as her birth +and charm demanded. This was first made known by her appearing one +Sunday morning at church, accompanied--as though attended with a retinue +of servitors--by Mistress Wimpole and her two sisters, whose plain faces, +awkward shape, and still more awkward attire were such a foil to her +glowing loveliness as set it in high relief. It was seldom that the +coach from Wildairs Hall drew up before the lych-gate, but upon rare +Sunday mornings Mistress Wimpole and her two charges contrived, if Sir +Jeoffry was not in an ill-humour and the coachman was complaisant, to be +driven to service. Usually, however, they trudged afoot, and, if the day +chanced to be sultry, arrived with their snub-nosed faces of a high and +shiny colour, or if the country roads were wet, with their petticoats +bemired. + +This morning, when the coach drew up, the horses were well groomed, the +coachman smartly dressed, and a footman was in attendance, who sprang to +earth and opened the door with a flourish. + +The loiterers in the churchyard, and those who were approaching the gate +or passing towards the church porch, stared with eyes wide stretched in +wonder and incredulity. Never had such a thing before been beheld or +heard of as what they now saw in broad daylight. + +Mistress Clorinda, clad in highest town fashion, in brocades and silver +lace and splendid furbelows, stepped forth from the chariot with the air +of a queen. She had the majestic composure of a young lady who had worn +nothing less modish than such raiment all her life, and who had prayed +decorously beneath her neighbours' eyes since she had left her nurse's +care. + +Her sisters and their governess looked timorous, and as if they knew not +where to cast their eyes for shamefacedness; but not so Mistress +Clorinda, who moved forward with a stately, swimming gait, her fine head +in the air. As she stepped into the porch a young gentleman drew back +and made a profound obeisance to her. She cast her eyes upon him and +returned it with a grace and condescension which struck the beholders +dumb with admiring awe. To some of the people of a commoner sort he was +a stranger, but all connected with the gentry knew he was Sir John Oxon, +who was staying at Eldershawe Park with his relative, whose estate it +was. + +How Mistress Clorinda contrived to manage it no one was aware but +herself, but after a few appearances at church she appeared at other +places. She was seen at dinners at fine houses, and began to be seen at +routs and balls. Where she was seen she shone, and with such radiance as +caused matchmaking matrons great dismay, and their daughters woeful +qualms. Once having shone, she could not be extinguished or hidden under +a bushel; for, being of rank and highly connected through mother as well +as father, and playing her cards with great wit and skill, she could not +be thrust aside. + +At her first hunt ball she set aflame every male breast in the shire, +unmasking such a battery of charms as no man could withstand the fire of. +Her dazzling eye, her wondrous shape, the rich music of her laugh, and +the mocking wit of her sharp saucy tongue were weapons to have armed a +dozen women, and she was but one, and in the first rich tempting glow of +blooming youth. + +She turned more heads and caused more quarrels than she could have +counted had she sat up half the night. She went to her coach with her +father followed by a dozen gallants, each ready to spit the other for a +smile. Her smiles were wondrous, but there seemed always a touch of +mockery or disdain in them which made them more remembered than if they +had been softer. + +One man there was, who perchance found something in her high glance not +wholly scornful, but he was used to soft treatment from women, and had, +in sooth, expected milder glances than were bestowed upon him. This was +young Sir John Oxon, who had found himself among the fair sex that night +as great a beau as she had been a belle; but two dances he had won from +her, and this was more than any other man could boast, and what other +gallants envied him with darkest hatred. + +Sir Jeoffry, who had watched her as she queened it amongst rakes and fops +and honest country squires and knights, had marked the vigour with which +they plied her with an emotion which was a new sensation to his drink- +bemuddled brain. So far as it was in his nature to love another than +himself, he had learned to love this young lovely virago of his own flesh +and blood, perchance because she was the only creature who had never +quailed before him, and had always known how to bend him to her will. + +When the chariot rode away, he looked at her as she sat erect in the +early morning light, as unblenching, bright, and untouched in bloom as if +she had that moment risen from her pillow and washed her face in dew. He +was not so drunk as he had been at midnight, but he was a little maudlin. + +"By God, thou art handsome, Clo!" he said. "By God, I never saw a finer +woman!" + +"Nor I," she answered back, "which I thank Heaven for." + +"Thou pretty, brazen baggage," her father laughed. "Old Dunstanwolde +looked thee well over to-night. He never looked away from the moment he +clapped eyes on thee." + +"That I knew better than thee, Dad," said the beauty; "and I saw that he +could not have done it if he had tried. If there comes no richer, +younger great gentleman, he shall marry me." + +"Thou hast a sharp eye and a keen wit," said Sir Jeoffry, looking askance +at her with a new maggot in his brain. "Wouldst never play the fool, I +warrant. They will press thee hard and 'twill be hard to withstand their +love-making, but I shall never have to mount and ride off with pistols in +my holsters to bring back a man and make him marry thee, as Chris Crowell +had to do for his youngest wench. Thou wouldst never play the fool, I +warrant--wouldst thou, Clo?" + +She tossed her head and laughed like a young scornful devil, showing her +white pearl teeth between her lips' scarlet. + +"Not I," she said. "There thou mayst trust me. _I_ would not be found +out." + +She played her part as triumphant beauty so successfully that the +cleverest managing mother in the universe could not have bettered her +position. Gallants brawled for her; honest men fell at her feet; +romantic swains wrote verses to her, praising her eyes, her delicate +bosom, the carnation of her cheek, and the awful majesty of her mien. In +every revel she was queen, in every contest of beauties Venus, in every +spectacle of triumph empress of them all. + +The Earl of Dunstanwolde, who had the oldest name and the richest estates +in his own county and the six adjoining ones, who, having made a love- +match in his prime, and lost wife and heir but a year after his nuptials, +had been the despair of every maid and mother who knew him, because he +would not be melted to a marriageable mood. After the hunt ball this +mourning nobleman, who was by this time of ripe years, had appeared in +the world again as he had not done for many years. Before many months +had elapsed, it was known that his admiration of the new beauty was +confessed, and it was believed that he but waited further knowledge of +her to advance to the point of laying his title and estates at her feet. + +But though, two years before, the entire county would have rated low +indeed the wit and foresight of the man who had even hinted the +possibility of such honour and good fortune being in prospect for the +young lady, so great was Mistress Clorinda's brilliant and noble beauty, +and with such majesty she bore herself in these times, that there were +even those who doubted whether she would think my lord a rich enough +prize for her, and if, when he fell upon his knees, she would deign to +become his countess, feeling that she had such splendid wares to dispose +of as might be bartered for a duke, when she went to town and to court. + +During the length of more than one man's lifetime after, the reign of +Mistress Clorinda Wildairs was a memory recalled over the bottle at the +dining-table among men, some of whom had but heard their fathers vaunt +her beauties. It seemed as if in her person there was not a single flaw, +or indeed a charm, which had not reached the highest point of beauty. For +shape she might have vied with young Diana, mounted side by side with her +upon a pedestal; her raven locks were of a length and luxuriance to +clothe her as a garment, her great eye commanded and flashed as Juno's +might have done in the goddess's divinest moments of lovely pride, and +though it was said none ever saw it languish, each man who adored her was +maddened by the secret belief that Venus' self could not so melt in love +as she if she would stoop to loving--as each one prayed she +might--himself. Her hands and feet, her neck, the slimness of her waist, +her mantling crimson and ivory white, her little ear, her scarlet lip, +the pearls between them and her long white throat, were perfection each +and all, and catalogued with oaths of rapture. + +"She hath such beauties," one admirer said, "that a man must toast them +all and cannot drink to her as to a single woman. And she hath so many +that to slight none her servant must go from the table reeling." + +There was but one thing connected with her which was not a weapon to her +hand, and this was, that she was not a fortune. Sir Jeoffry had drunk +and rioted until he had but little left. He had cut his timber and let +his estate go to rack, having, indeed, no money to keep it up. The great +Hall, which had once been a fine old place, was almost a ruin. Its +carved oak and noble rooms and galleries were all of its past splendours +that remained. All had been sold that could be sold, and all the outcome +had been spent. The county, indeed, wondered where Mistress Clorinda's +fine clothes came from, and knew full well why she was not taken to court +to kneel to the Queen. That she was waiting for this to make her match, +the envious were quite sure, and did not hesitate to whisper pretty +loudly. + +The name of one man of rank and fortune after another was spoken of as +that of a suitor to her hand, but in some way it was discovered that she +refused them all. It was also known that they continued to worship her, +and that at any moment she could call even the best among them back. It +seemed that, while all the men were enamoured of her, there was not one +who could cure himself of his passion, however hopeless it might be. + +Her wit was as great as her beauty, and she had a spirit before which no +man could stand if she chose to be disdainful. To some she was so, and +had the whim to flout them with great brilliancy. Encounters with her +were always remembered, and if heard by those not concerned, were +considered worthy both of recollection and of being repeated to the +world; she had a tongue so nimble and a wit so full of fire. + +Young Sir John Oxon's visit to his relative at Eldershawe being at an +end, he returned to town, and remaining there through a few weeks of +fashionable gaiety, won new reputations as a triumpher over the female +heart. He made some renowned conquests and set the mode in some new +essences and sword-knots. But even these triumphs appeared to pall upon +him shortly, since he deserted the town and returned again to the +country, where, on this occasion, he did not stay with his relative, but +with Sir Jeoffry himself, who had taken a boisterous fancy to him. + +It had been much marked since the altered life of Mistress Clorinda that +she, who had previously defied all rules laid down on behaviour for young +ladies, and had been thought to do so because she knew none of them, now +proved that her wild fashion had been but wilfulness, since it was seen +that she must have observed and marked manners with the best. There +seemed no decorum she did not know how to observe with the most natural +grace. It was, indeed, all grace and majesty, there being no suggestion +of the prude about her, but rather the manner of a young lady having been +born with pride and stateliness, and most carefully bred. This was the +result of her wondrous wit, the highness of her talents, and the strength +of her will, which was of such power that she could carry out without +fail anything she chose to undertake. There are some women who have +beauty, and some who have wit or vigour of understanding, but she +possessed all three, and with them such courage and strength of nerve as +would have well equipped a man. + +Quick as her wit was and ready as were her brilliant quips and sallies, +there was no levity in her demeanour, and she kept Mistress Margery +Wimpole in discreet attendance upon her, as if she had been the daughter +of a Spanish Hidalgo, never to be approached except in the presence of +her duenna. Poor Mistress Margery, finding her old fears removed, was +overpowered with new ones. She had no lawlessness or hoyden manners to +contend with, but instead a haughtiness so high and demands so great that +her powers could scarcely satisfy the one or her spirit stand up before +the other. + +"It is as if one were lady-in-waiting to her Majesty's self," she used to +whimper when she was alone and dare do so. "Surely the Queen has not +such a will and such a temper. She will have me toil to look worthy of +her in my habit, and bear myself like a duchess in dignity. Alack! I +have practised my obeisance by the hour to perfect it, so that I may +escape her wrath. And I must know how to look, and when and where to +sit, and with what air of being near at hand, while I must see nothing! +And I must drag my failing limbs hither and thither with genteel ease +while I ache from head to foot, being neither young nor strong." + +The poor lady was so overawed by, and yet so admired, her charge, that it +was piteous to behold. + +"She is an arrant fool," quoth Mistress Clorinda to her father. "A nice +duenna she would be, forsooth, if she were with a woman who needed +watching. She could be hoodwinked as it pleased me a dozen times a day. +It is I who am her guard, not she mine! But a beauty must drag some spy +about with her, it seems, and she I can make to obey me like a spaniel. +We can afford no better, and she is well born, and since I bought her the +purple paduasoy and the new lappets she has looked well enough to serve." + +"Dunstanwolde need not fear for thee now," said Sir Jeoffry. "Thou art a +clever and foreseeing wench, Clo." + +"Dunstanwolde nor any man!" she answered. "There will be no gossip of +me. It is Anne and Barbara thou must look to, Dad, lest their plain +faces lead them to show soft hearts. My face is my fortune!" + +When Sir John Oxon paid his visit to Sir Jeoffry the days of Mistress +Margery were filled with carking care. The night before he arrived, +Mistress Clorinda called her to her closet and laid upon her her commands +in her own high way. She was under her woman's hands, and while her +great mantle of black hair fell over the back of her chair and lay on the +floor, her tirewoman passing the brush over it, lock by lock, she was at +her greatest beauty. Either she had been angered or pleased, for her +cheek wore a bloom even deeper and richer than usual, and there was a +spark like a diamond under the fringe of her lashes. + +At her first timorous glance at her, Mistress Margery thought she must +have been angered, the spark so burned in her eyes, and so evident was +the light but quick heave of her bosom; but the next moment it seemed as +if she must be in a pleasant humour, for a little smile deepened the +dimples in the corner of her bowed, full lips. But quickly she looked up +and resumed her stately air. + +"This gentleman who comes to visit to-morrow," she said, "Sir John +Oxon--do you know aught of him?" + +"But little, Madame," Mistress Margery answered with fear and humility. + +"Then it will be well that you should, since I have commands to lay upon +you concerning him," said the beauty. + +"You do me honour," said the poor gentlewoman. + +Mistress Clorinda looked her straight in the face. + +"He is a gentleman from town, the kinsman of Lord Eldershawe," she said. +"He is a handsome man, concerning whom many women have been fools. He +chooses to allow it to be said that he is a conqueror of female hearts +and virtue, even among women of fashion and rank. If this be said in the +town, what may not be said in the country? He shall wear no such graces +here. He chooses to pay his court to me. He is my father's guest and a +man of fashion. Let him make as many fine speeches as he has the will +to. I will listen or not as I choose. I am used to words. But see that +we are not left alone." + +The tirewoman pricked up her ears. Clorinda saw her in the glass. + +"Attend to thy business if thou dost not want a box o' the ear," she said +in a tone which made the woman start. + +"You would not be left alone with the gentleman, Madam?" faltered +Mistress Margery. + +"If he comes to boast of conquests," said Mistress Clorinda, looking at +her straight again and drawing down her black brows, "I will play as +cleverly as he. He cannot boast greatly of one whom he never makes his +court to but in the presence of a kinswoman of ripe years. Understand +that this is to be your task." + +"I will remember," Madam, answered Mistress Margery. "I will bear myself +as you command." + +"That is well," said Mistress Clorinda. "I will keep you no more. You +may go." + + + + +CHAPTER VI--Relating how Mistress Anne discovered a miniature + + +The good gentlewoman took her leave gladly. She had spent a life in +timid fears of such things and persons as were not formed by Nature to +excite them, but never had she experienced such humble terrors as those +with which Mistress Clorinda inspired her. Never did she approach her +without inward tremor, and never did she receive permission to depart +from her presence without relief. And yet her beauty and wit and spirit +had no admirer regarding them with more of wondering awe. + +In the bare west wing of the house, comfortless though the neglect of its +master had made it, there was one corner where she was unafraid. Her +first charges, Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne, were young ladies of +gentle spirit. Their sister had said of them that their spirit was as +poor as their looks. It could not be said of them by any one that they +had any pretension to beauty, but that which Mistress Clorinda rated at +as poor spirit was the one element of comfort in their poor dependent +kinswoman's life. They gave her no ill words, they indulged in no +fantastical whims and vapours, and they did not even seem to expect other +entertainment than to walk the country roads, to play with their little +lap-dog Cupid, wind silks for their needlework, and please themselves +with their embroidery-frames. + +To them their sister appeared a goddess whom it would be presumptuous to +approach in any frame of mind quite ordinary. Her beauty must be +heightened by rich adornments, while their plain looks were left without +the poorest aid. It seemed but fitting that what there was to spend must +be spent on her. They showed no signs of resentment, and took with +gratitude such cast-off finery as she deigned at times to bestow upon +them, when it was no longer useful to herself. She was too full of the +occupations of pleasure to have had time to notice them, even if her +nature had inclined her to the observance of family affections. It was +their habit, when they knew of her going out in state, to watch her +incoming and outgoing through a peep-hole in a chamber window. Mistress +Margery told them stories of her admirers and of her triumphs, of the +county gentlemen of fortune who had offered themselves to her, and of the +modes of life in town of the handsome Sir John Oxon, who, without doubt, +was of the circle of her admiring attendants, if he had not fallen +totally her victim, as others had. + +Of the two young women, it was Mistress Anne who had the more parts, and +the attraction of the mind the least dull. In sooth, Nature had dealt +with both in a niggardly fashion, but Mistress Barbara was the plainer +and the more foolish. Mistress Anne had, perchance, the tenderer +feelings, and was in secret given to a certain sentimentality. She was +thin and stooping, and had but a muddy complexion; her hair was heavy, it +is true, but its thickness and weight seemed naught but an ungrateful +burden; and she had a dull, soft eye. In private she was fond of reading +such romances as she could procure by stealth from the library of books +gathered together in past times by some ancestor Sir Jeoffry regarded as +an idiot. Doubtless she met with strange reading in the volumes she took +to her closet, and her simple virgin mind found cause for the solving of +many problems; but from the pages she contrived to cull stories of lordly +lovers and cruel or kind beauties, whose romances created for her a +strange world of pleasure in the midst of her loneliness. Poor, +neglected young female, with every guileless maiden instinct withered at +birth, she had need of some tender dreams to dwell upon, though Fate +herself seemed to have decreed that they must be no more than visions. + +It was, in sooth, always the beauteous Clorinda about whose charms she +builded her romances. In her great power she saw that for which knights +fought in tourney and great kings committed royal sins, and to her +splendid beauty she had in secrecy felt that all might be forgiven. She +cherished such fancies of her, that one morning, when she believed her +absent from the house, she stole into the corridor upon which Clorinda's +apartment opened. Her first timid thought had been, that if a chamber +door were opened she might catch a glimpse of some of the splendours her +sister's woman was surely laying out for her wearing at a birth-night +ball, at the house of one of the gentry of the neighbourhood. But it so +happened that she really found the door of entrance open, which, indeed, +she had not more than dared to hope, and finding it so, she stayed her +footsteps to gaze with beating heart within. On the great bed, which was +of carved oak and canopied with tattered tapestry, there lay spread such +splendours as she had never beheld near to before. 'Twas blue and silver +brocade Mistress Clorinda was to shine in to-night; it lay spread forth +in all its dimensions. The beautiful bosom and shoulders were to be +bared to the eyes of scores of adorers, but rich lace was to set their +beauties forth, and strings of pearls. Why Sir Jeoffry had not sold his +lady's jewels before he became enamoured of her six-year-old child it +would be hard to explain. There was a great painted fan with jewels in +the sticks, and on the floor--as if peeping forth from beneath the +bravery of the expanded petticoats--was a pair of blue and silver shoes, +high-heeled and arched and slender. In gazing at them Mistress Anne lost +her breath, thinking that in some fashion they had a regal air of being +made to trample hearts beneath them. + +To the gentle, hapless virgin, to whom such possessions were as the +wardrobe of a queen, the temptation to behold them near was too great. +She could not forbear from passing the threshold, and she did with +heaving breast. She approached the bed and gazed; she dared to touch the +scented gloves that lay by the outspread petticoat of blue and silver; +she even laid a trembling finger upon the pointed bodice, which was so +slender that it seemed small enough for even a child. + +"Ah me," she sighed gently, "how beautiful she will be! How beautiful! +And all of them will fall at her feet, as is not to be wondered at. And +it was always so all her life, even when she was an infant, and all gave +her her will because of her beauty and her power. She hath a great +power. Barbara and I are not so. We are dull and weak, and dare not +speak our minds. It is as if we were creatures of another world; but He +who rules all things has so willed it for us. He has given it to us for +our portion--our portion." + +Her dull, poor face dropped a little as she spoke the words, and her eyes +fell upon the beauteous tiny shoes, which seemed to trample even when no +foot was within them. She stooped to take one in her hand, but as she +was about to lift it something which seemed to have been dropped upon the +floor, and to have rolled beneath the valance of the bed, touched her +hand. It was a thing to which a riband was attached--an ivory +miniature--and she picked it up wondering. She stood up gazing at it, in +such bewilderment to find her eyes upon it that she scarce knew what she +did. She did not mean to pry; she would not have had the daring so to do +if she had possessed the inclination. But the instant her eyes told her +what they saw, she started and blushed as she had never blushed before in +her tame life. The warm rose mantled her cheeks, and even suffused the +neck her chaste kerchief hid. Her eye kindled with admiration and an +emotion new to her indeed. + +"How beautiful!" she said. "He is like a young Adonis, and has the +bearing of a royal prince! How can it--by what strange chance hath it +come here?" + +She had not regarded it more than long enough to have uttered these +words, when a fear came upon her, and she felt that she had fallen into +misfortune. + +"What must I do with it?" she trembled. "What will she say, whether she +knows of its being within the chamber or not? She will be angry with me +that I have dared to touch it. What shall I do?" + +She regarded it again with eyes almost suffused. Her blush and the +sensibility of her emotion gave to her plain countenance a new liveliness +of tint and expression. + +"I will put it back where I found it," she said, "and the one who knows +it will find it later. It cannot be she--it cannot be she! If I laid it +on her table she would rate me bitterly--and she can be bitter when she +will." + +She bent and placed it within the shadow of the valance again, and as she +felt it touch the hard oak of the polished floor her bosom rose with a +soft sigh. + +"It is an unseemly thing to do," she said; "'tis as though one were +uncivil; but I dare not--I dare not do otherwise." + +She would have turned to leave the apartment, being much overcome by the +incident, but just as she would have done so she heard the sound of +horses' feet through the window by which she must pass, and looked out to +see if it was Clorinda who was returning from her ride. Mistress +Clorinda was a matchless horsewoman, and a marvel of loveliness and +spirit she looked when she rode, sitting upon a horse such as no other +woman dared to mount--always an animal of the greatest beauty, but of so +dangerous a spirit that her riding-whip was loaded like a man's. + +This time it was not she; and when Mistress Anne beheld the young +gentleman who had drawn rein in the court she started backward and put +her hand to her heart, the blood mantling her pale cheek again in a +flood. But having started back, the next instant she started forward to +gaze again, all her timid soul in her eyes. + +"'Tis he!" she panted; "'tis he himself! He hath come in hope to speak +with my sister, and she is abroad. Poor gentleman, he hath come in such +high spirit, and must ride back heavy of heart. How comely, and how +finely clad he is!" + +He was, in sooth, with his rich riding-habit, his handsome face, his +plumed hat, and the sun shining on the fair luxuriant locks which fell +beneath it. It was Sir John Oxon, and he was habited as when he rode in +the park in town and the court was there. Not so were attired the +country gentry whom Anne had been wont to see, though many of them were +well mounted, knowing horseflesh and naught else, as they did. + +She pressed her cheek against the side of the oriel window, over which +the ivy grew thickly. She was so intent that she could not withdraw her +gaze. She watched him as he turned away, having received his dismissal, +and she pressed her face closer that she might follow him as he rode down +the long avenue of oak-trees, his servant riding behind. + +Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him from +her sight; and even then the spell was not dissolved, and she still +regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind her made her +start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and rich, and when she +so started and turned to see whom it might be, she beheld her sister +Clorinda, who was standing just within the threshold, as if movement had +been arrested by what had met her eye as she came in. Poor Anne put her +hand to her side again. + +"Oh sister!" she gasped; "oh sister!" but could say no more. + +She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been out +at all, for she was in home attire; and even in the midst of her +trepidation there sprang into Anne's mind the awful thought that through +some servant's blunder the comely young visitor had been sent away. For +herself, she expected but to be driven forth with wrathful, disdainful +words for her presumption. For what else could she hope from this +splendid creature, who, while of her own flesh and blood, had never +seemed to regard her as being more than a poor superfluous underling? But +strangely enough, there was no anger in Clorinda's eyes; she but laughed, +as though what she had seen had made her merry. + +"You here, Anne," she said, "and looking with light-mindedness after +gallant gentlemen! Mistress Margery should see to this and watch more +closely, or we shall have unseemly stories told. _You_, sister, with +your modest face and bashfulness! I had not thought it of you." + +Suddenly she crossed the room to where her sister stood drooping, and +seized her by the shoulder, so that she could look her well in the face. + +"What," she said, with a mocking not quite harsh--"What is this? Does a +glance at a fine gallant, even taken from behind an oriel window, make +such change indeed? I never before saw this look, nor this colour, +forsooth; it hath improved thee wondrously, Anne--wondrously." + +"Sister," faltered Anne, "I so desired to see your birth-night ball-gown, +of which Mistress Margery hath much spoken--I so desired--I thought it +would not matter if, the door being open and it spread forth upon the +bed--I--I stole a look at it. And then I was tempted--and came in." + +"And then was tempted more," Clorinda laughed, still regarding her +downcast countenance shrewdly, "by a thing far less to be resisted--a +fine gentleman from town, with love-locks falling on his shoulders and +ladies' hearts strung at his saddle-bow by scores. Which found you the +most beautiful?" + +"Your gown is splendid, sister," said Anne, with modest shyness. "There +will be no beauty who will wear another like it; or should there be one, +she will not carry it as you will." + +"But the man--the man, Anne," Clorinda laughed again. "What of the man?" + +Anne plucked up just enough of her poor spirit to raise her eyes to the +brilliant ones that mocked at her. + +"With such gentlemen, sister," she said, "is it like that _I_ have aught +to do?" + +Mistress Clorinda dropped her hand and left laughing. + +"'Tis true," she said, "it is not; but for this one time, Anne, thou +lookest almost a woman." + +"'Tis not beauty alone that makes womanhood," said Anne, her head on her +breast again. "In some book I have read that--that it is mostly pain. I +am woman enough for that." + +"You have read--you have read," quoted Clorinda. "You are the bookworm, +I remember, and filch romances and poems from the shelves. And you have +read that it is mostly pain that makes a woman? 'Tis not true. 'Tis a +poor lie. _I_ am a woman and I do not suffer--for I _will_ not, that I +swear! And when I take an oath I keep it, mark you! It is men women +suffer for; that was what your scholar meant--for such fine gentlemen as +the one you have just watched while he rode away. More fools they! No +man shall make _me_ womanly in such a fashion, I promise you! Let _them_ +wince and kneel; _I_ will not." + +"Sister," Anne faltered, "I thought you were not within. The gentleman +who rode away--did the servants know?" + +"That did they," quoth Clorinda, mocking again. "They knew that I would +not receive him to-day, and so sent him away. He might have known as +much himself, but he is an arrant popinjay, and thinks all women wish to +look at his fine shape, and hear him flatter them when he is in the +mood." + +"You would not--let him enter?" + +Clorinda threw her graceful body into a chair with more light laughter. + +"I would not," she answered. "You cannot understand such ingratitude, +poor Anne; you would have treated him more softly. Sit down and talk to +me, and I will show thee my furbelows myself. All women like to chatter +of their laced bodices and petticoats. _That_ is what makes a woman." + +Anne was tremulous with relief and pleasure. It was as if a queen had +bid her to be seated. She sat almost with the humble lack of ease a +serving-woman might have shown. She had never seen Clorinda wear such an +air before, and never had she dreamed that she would so open herself to +any fellow-creature. She knew but little of what her sister was +capable--of the brilliancy of her charm when she chose to condescend, of +the deigning softness of her manner when she chose to please, of her arch- +pleasantries and cutting wit, and of the strange power she could wield +over any human being, gentle or simple, with whom she came in contact. +But if she had not known of these things before, she learned to know them +this morning. For some reason best known to herself, Mistress Clorinda +was in a high good humour. She kept Anne with her for more than an hour, +and was dazzling through every moment of its passing. She showed her the +splendours she was to shine in at the birth-night ball, even bringing +forth her jewels and displaying them. She told her stories of the house +of which the young heir to-day attained his majority, and mocked at the +poor youth because he was ungainly, and at a distance had been her slave +since his nineteenth year. + +"I have scarce looked at him," she said. "He is a lout, with great eyes +staring, and a red nose. It does not need that one should look at men to +win them. They look at us, and that is enough." + +To poor Mistress Anne, who had seen no company and listened to no wits, +the entertainment bestowed upon her was as wonderful as a night at the +playhouse would have been. To watch the vivid changing face; to hearken +to jesting stories of men and women who seemed like the heroes and +heroines of her romances; to hear love itself--the love she trembled and +palpitated at the mere thought of--spoken of openly as an experience +which fell to all; to hear it mocked at with dainty or biting quips; to +learn that women of all ages played with, enjoyed, or lost themselves for +it--it was with her as if a nun had been withdrawn from her cloister and +plunged into the vortex of the world. + +"Sister," she said, looking at the Beauty with humble, adoring eyes, "you +make me feel that my romances are true. You tell such things. It is +like seeing pictures of things to hear you talk. No wonder that all +listen to you, for indeed 'tis wonderful the way you have with words. You +use them so that 'tis as though they had shapes of their own and colours, +and you builded with them. I thank you for being so gracious to me, who +have seen so little, and cannot tell the poor, quiet things I have seen." + +And being led into the loving boldness by her gratitude, she bent forward +and touched with her lips the fair hand resting on the chair's arm. + +Mistress Clorinda fixed her fine eyes upon her in a new way. + +"I' faith, it doth not seem fair, Anne," she said. "I should not like to +change lives with thee. Thou hast eyes like a shot pheasant--soft, and +with the bright hid beneath the dull. Some man might love them, even if +thou art no beauty. Stay," suddenly; "methinks--" + +She uprose from her chair and went to the oaken wardrobe, and threw the +door of it open wide while she looked within. + +"There is a gown and tippet or so here, and a hood and some ribands I +might do without," she said. "My woman shall bear them to your chamber, +and show you how to set them to rights. She is a nimble-fingered +creature, and a gown of mine would give almost stuff enough to make you +two. Then some days, when I am not going abroad and Mistress Margery +frets me too much, I will send for you to sit with me, and you shall +listen to the gossip when a visitor drops in to have a dish of tea." + +Anne would have kissed her feet then, if she had dared to do so. She +blushed red all over, and adored her with a more worshipping gaze than +before. + +"I should not have dared to hope so much," she stammered. "I could +not--perhaps it is not fitting--perhaps I could not bear myself as I +should. I would try to show myself a gentlewoman and seemly. I--I _am_ +a gentlewoman, though I have learned so little. I could not be aught but +a gentlewoman, could I, sister, being of your own blood and my parents' +child?" half afraid to presume even this much. + +"No," said Clorinda. "Do not be a fool, Anne, and carry yourself too +humbly before the world. You can be as humble as you like to me." + +"I shall--I shall be your servant and worship you, sister," cried the +poor soul, and she drew near and kissed again the white hand which had +bestowed with such royal bounty all this joy. It would not have occurred +to her that a cast-off robe and riband were but small largesse. + +It was not a minute after this grateful caress that Clorinda made a sharp +movement--a movement which was so sharp that it seemed to be one of +dismay. At first, as if involuntarily, she had raised her hand to her +tucker, and after doing so she started--though 'twas but for a second's +space, after which her face was as it had been before. + +"What is it?" exclaimed Anne. "Have you lost anything?" + +"No," quoth Mistress Clorinda quite carelessly, as she once more turned +to the contents of the oaken wardrobe; "but I thought I missed a trinket +I was wearing for a wager, and I would not lose it before the bet is +won." + +"Sister," ventured Anne before she left her and went away to her own dull +world in the west wing, "there is a thing I can do if you will allow me. +I can mend your tapestry hangings which have holes in them. I am quick +at my needle, and should love to serve you in such poor ways as I can; +and it is not seemly that they should be so worn. All things about you +should be beautiful and well kept." + +"Can you make these broken things beautiful?" said Clorinda. "Then +indeed you shall. You may come here to mend them when you will." + +"They are very fine hangings, though so old and ill cared for," said +Anne, looking up at them; "and I shall be only too happy sitting here +thinking of all you are doing while I am at my work." + +"Thinking of all I am doing?" laughed Mistress Clorinda. "That would +give you such wondrous things to dream of, Anne, that you would have no +time for your needle, and my hangings would stay as they are." + +"I can think and darn also," said Mistress Anne, "so I will come." + + + + +CHAPTER VII--'Twas the face of Sir John Oxon the moon shone upon + + +From that time henceforward into the young woman's dull life there came a +little change. It did not seem a little change to her, but a great one, +though to others it would have seemed slight indeed. She was an +affectionate, house-wifely creature, who would have made the best of +wives and mothers if it had been so ordained by Fortune, and something of +her natural instincts found outlet in the furtive service she paid her +sister, who became the empress of her soul. She darned and patched the +tattered hangings with a wonderful neatness, and the hours she spent at +work in the chamber were to her almost as sacred as hours spent at +religious duty, or as those nuns and novices give to embroidering altar- +cloths. There was a brightness in the room that seemed in no other in +the house, and the lingering essences in the air of it were as incense to +her. In secrecy she even busied herself with keeping things in better +order than Rebecca, Mistress Clorinda's woman, had ever had time to do +before. She also contrived to get into her own hands some duties that +were Rebecca's own. She could mend lace cleverly and arrange +riband-knots with taste, and even change the fashion of a gown. The hard- +worked tirewoman was but too glad to be relieved, and kept her secret +well, being praised many times for the set or fashion of a thing into +which she had not so much as set a needle. Being a shrewd baggage, she +was wise enough always to relate to Anne the story of her mistress's +pleasure, having the wit to read in her delight that she would be +encouraged to fresh effort. + +At times it so befell that, when Anne went into the bed-chamber, she +found the beauty there, who, if she chanced to be in the humour, would +detain her in her presence for a space and bewitch her over again. In +sooth, it seemed that she took a pleasure in showing her female adorer +how wondrously full of all fascinations she could be. At such times +Anne's plain face would almost bloom with excitement, and her shot +pheasant's eyes would glow as if beholding a goddess. + +She neither saw nor heard more of the miniature on the riband. It used +to make her tremble at times to fancy that by some strange chance it +might still be under the bed, and that the handsome face smiled and the +blue eyes gazed in the very apartment where she herself sat and her +sister was robed and disrobed in all her beauty. + +She used all her modest skill in fitting to her own shape and +refurnishing the cast-off bits of finery bestowed upon her. It was all +set to rights long before Clorinda recalled to mind that she had promised +that Anne should sometime see her chance visitors take their dish of tea +with her. + +But one day, for some cause, she did remember, and sent for her. + +Anne ran to her bed-chamber and donned her remodelled gown with shaking +hands. She laughed a little hysterically as she did it, seeing her plain +snub-nosed face in the glass. She tried to dress her head in a fashion +new to her, and knew she did it ill and untidily, but had no time to +change it. If she had had some red she would have put it on, but such +vanities were not in her chamber or Barbara's. So she rubbed her cheeks +hard, and even pinched them, so that in the end they looked as if they +were badly rouged. It seemed to her that her nose grew red too, and +indeed 'twas no wonder, for her hands and feet were like ice. + +"She must be ashamed of me," the humble creature said to herself. "And +if she is ashamed she will be angered and send me away and be friends no +more." + +She did not deceive herself, poor thing, and imagine she had the chance +of being regarded with any great lenience if she appeared ill. + +"Mistress Clorinda begged that you would come quickly," said Rebecca, +knocking at the door. + +So she caught her handkerchief, which was scented, as all her garments +were, with dried rose-leaves from the garden, which she had conserved +herself, and went down to the chintz parlour trembling. + +It was a great room with white panels, and flowered coverings to the +furniture. There were a number of ladies and gentlemen standing talking +and laughing loudly together. The men outnumbered the women, and most of +them stood in a circle about Mistress Clorinda, who sat upright in a +great flowered chair, smiling with her mocking, stately air, as if she +defied them to dare to speak what they felt. + +Anne came in like a mouse. Nobody saw her. She did not, indeed, know +what to do. She dared not remain standing all alone, so she crept to the +place where her sister's chair was, and stood a little behind its high +back. Her heart beat within her breast till it was like to choke her. + +They were only country gentlemen who made the circle, but to her they +seemed dashing gallants. That some of them had red noses as well as +cheeks, and that their voices were big and their gallantries boisterous, +was no drawback to their manly charms, she having seen no other finer +gentlemen. They were specimens of the great conquering creature Man, +whom all women must aspire to please if they have the fortunate power; +and each and all of them were plainly trying to please Clorinda, and not +she them. + +And so Anne gazed at them with admiring awe, waiting until there should +come a pause in which she might presume to call her sister's attention to +her presence; but suddenly, before she had indeed made up her mind how +she might best announce herself, there spoke behind her a voice of +silver. + +"It is only goddesses," said the voice, "who waft about them as they move +the musk of the rose-gardens of Araby. When you come to reign over us in +town, Madam, there will be no perfume in the mode but that of +rose-leaves, and in all drawing-rooms we shall breathe but their +perfume." + +And there, at her side, was bowing, in cinnamon and crimson, with +jewelled buttons on his velvet coat, the beautiful being whose fair locks +the sun had shone on the morning she had watched him ride away--the man +whom the imperial beauty had dismissed and called a popinjay. + +Clorinda looked under her lashes towards him without turning, but in so +doing beheld Anne standing in waiting. + +"A fine speech lost," she said, "though 'twas well enough for the +country, Sir John. 'Tis thrown away, because 'tis not I who am scented +with rose-leaves, but Anne there, whom you must not ogle. Come hither, +sister, and do not hide as if you were ashamed to be looked at." + +And she drew her forward, and there Anne stood, and all of them stared at +her poor, plain, blushing face, and the Adonis in cinnamon and crimson +bowed low, as if she had been a duchess, that being his conqueror's way +with gentle or simple, maid, wife, or widow, beauty or homespun +uncomeliness. + +It was so with him always; he could never resist the chance of luring to +himself a woman's heart, whether he wanted it or not, and he had a charm, +a strange and wonderful one, it could not be denied. Anne palpitated +indeed as she made her curtsey to him, and wondered if Heaven had ever +before made so fine a gentleman and so beautiful a being. + +She went but seldom to this room again, and when she went she stood +always in the background, far more in fear that some one would address +her than that she should meet with neglect. She was used to neglect, and +to being regarded as a nonentity, and aught else discomfited her. All +her pleasure was to hear what was said, though 'twas not always of the +finest wit--and to watch Clorinda play the queen among her admirers and +her slaves. She would not have dared to speak of Sir John Oxon +frequently--indeed, she let fall his name but rarely; but she learned a +curious wit in contriving to hear all things concerning him. It was her +habit cunningly to lead Mistress Margery to talking about him and +relating long histories of his conquests and his grace. Mistress Wimpole +knew many of them, having, for a staid and prudent matron, a lively +interest in his ways. It seemed, truly--if one must believe her long- +winded stories--that no duchess under seventy had escaped weeping for him +and losing rest, and that ladies of all ranks had committed follies for +his sake. + +Mistress Anne, having led her to this fruitful subject, would sit and +listen, bending over her embroidery frame with strange emotions, causing +her virgin breast to ache with their swelling. She would lie awake at +night thinking in the dark, with her heart beating. Surely, surely there +was no other man on earth who was so fitted to Clorinda, and to whom it +was so suited that this empress should give her charms. Surely no woman, +however beautiful or proud, could dismiss his suit when he pressed it. +And then, poor woman, her imagination strove to paint the splendour of +their mutual love, though of such love she knew so little. But it must, +in sooth, be bliss and rapture; and perchance, was her humble thought, +she might see it from afar, and hear of it. And when they went to court, +and Clorinda had a great mansion in town, and many servants who needed a +housewife's eye upon their doings to restrain them from wastefulness and +riot, might it not chance to be that if she served well now, and had the +courage to plead with her then, she might be permitted to serve her +there, living quite apart in some quiet corner of the house. And then +her wild thoughts would go so far that she would dream--reddening at her +own boldness--of a child who might be born to them, a lordly infant son +and heir, whose eyes might be blue and winning, and his hair in great +fair locks, and whom she might nurse and tend and be a slave to--and +love--and love--and love, and who might end by knowing she was his tender +servant, always to be counted on, and might look at her with that wooing, +laughing glance, and even love her too. + +The night Clorinda laid her commands upon Mistress Wimpole concerning the +coming of Sir John Oxon, that matron, after receiving them, hurried to +her other charges, flurried and full of talk, and poured forth her wonder +and admiration at length. + +"She is a wondrous lady!" she said--"she is indeed! It is not alone her +beauty, but her spirit and her wit. Mark you how she sees all things and +lets none pass, and can lay a plan as prudent as any lady old enough to +be twice her mother. She knows all the ways of the world of fashion, and +will guard herself against gossip in such a way that none can gainsay her +high virtue. Her spirit is too great to allow that she may even _seem_ +to be as the town ladies. She will not have it! Sir John will not find +his court easy to pay. She will not allow that he shall be able to say +to any one that he has seen her alone a moment. Thus, she says, he +cannot boast. If all ladies were as wise and cunning, there would be no +tales to tell." She talked long and garrulously, and set forth to them +how Mistress Clorinda had looked straight at her with her black eyes, +until she had almost shaken as she sat, because it seemed as though she +dared her to disobey her will; and how she had sat with her hair trailing +upon the floor over the chair's back, and at first it had seemed that she +was flushed with anger, but next as if she had smiled. + +"Betimes," said Mistress Wimpole, "I am afraid when she smiles, but to- +night some thought had crossed her mind that pleased her. I think it was +that she liked to think that he who has conquered so many ladies will +find that he is to be outwitted and made a mock of. She likes that +others shall be beaten if she thinks them impudent. She liked it as a +child, and would flog the stable-boys with her little whip until they +knelt to beg her pardon for their freedoms." + +That night Mistress Anne went to her bed-chamber with her head full of +wandering thoughts, and she had not the power to bid them disperse +themselves and leave her--indeed, she scarce wished for it. She was +thinking of Clorinda, and wondering sadly that she was of so high a pride +that she could bear herself as though there were no human weakness in her +breast, not even the womanly weakness of a heart. How could it be +possible that she could treat with disdain this gallant gentleman, if he +loved her, as he surely must? Herself she had been sure that she had +seen an ardent flame in his blue eyes, even that first day when he had +bowed to her with that air of grace as he spoke of the fragrance of the +rose leaves he had thought wafted from her robe. How could a woman whom +he loved resist him? How could she cause him to suffer by forcing him to +stand at arm's length when he sighed to draw near and breathe his passion +at her feet? + +In the silence of her chamber as she disrobed, she sighed with restless +pain, but did not know that her sighing was for grief that love--of which +there seemed so little in some lives--could be wasted and flung away. She +could not fall into slumber when she lay down upon her pillow, but tossed +from side to side with a burdened heart. + +"She is so young and beautiful and proud," she thought. "It is because I +am so much older that I can see these things--that I see that this is +surely the one man who should be her husband. There may be many others, +but they are none of them her equals, and she would scorn and hate them +when she was once bound to them for life. This one is as beautiful as +she--and full of grace, and wit, and spirit. She could not look down +upon him, however wrath she was at any time. Ah me! She should not +spurn him, surely she should not!" + +She was so restless and ill at ease that she could not lie upon her bed, +but rose therefrom, as she often did in her wakeful hours, and went to +her lattice, gently opening it to look out upon the night, and calm +herself by sitting with her face uplifted to the stars, which from her +childhood she had fancied looked down upon her kindly and as if they +would give her comfort. + +To-night there were no stars. There should have been a moon +three-quarters full, but, in the evening, clouds had drifted across the +sky and closed over all heavily, so that no moonlight was to be seen, +save when a rare sudden gust made a ragged rent, for a moment, in the +blackness. + +She did not sit this time, but knelt, clad in her night-rail as she was. +All was sunk into the profoundest silence of the night. By this time the +entire household had been long enough abed to be plunged in sleep. She +alone was waking, and being of that simple mind which, like a child's, +must ever bear its trouble to a protecting strength, she looked up at the +darkness of the cloudy sky and prayed for the better fortune of the man +who had indeed not remembered her existence after the moment he had made +her his obeisance. She was too plain and sober a creature to be +remembered. + +"Perchance," she murmured, "he is at this moment also looking at the +clouds from his window, because he cannot sleep for thinking that in two +days he will be beneath her father's roof and will see her loveliness, +and he must needs be contriving within his mind what he will say, if she +do but look as if she might regard him with favour, which I pray she +will." + +From the path below, that moment there rose a slight sound, so slight a +one that for a moment she thought she must have been deceived in +believing it had fallen upon her ear. All was still after it for full +two minutes, and had she heard no more she would have surely forgotten +she had heard aught, or would have believed herself but the victim of +fancy. But after the long pause the same sound came again, though this +time it was slighter; yet, despite its slightness, it seemed to her to be +the crushing of the earth and stone beneath a cautious foot. It was a +foot so cautious that it was surely stealthy and scarce dared to advance +at all. And then all was still again. She was for a moment overcome +with fears, not being of a courageous temper, and having heard, but of +late, of a bold gipsy vagabond who, with a companion, had broken into the +lower rooms of a house of the neighbourhood, and being surprised by its +owner, had only been overcome and captured after a desperate fight, in +which shots were exchanged, and one of the hurriedly-awakened servants +killed. So she leaned forward to hearken further, wondering what she +should do to best alarm the house, and, as she bent so, she heard the +sound again and a smothered oath, and with her straining eyes saw that +surely upon the path there stood a dark-draped figure. She rose with +great care to her feet, and stood a moment shaking and clinging to the +window-ledge, while she bethought her of what servants she could wake +first, and how she could reach her father's room. Her poor heart beat in +her side, and her breath came quickly. The soundlessness of the night +was broken by one of the strange sudden gusts of wind which tossed the +trees, and tore at the clouds as they hurried. She heard the footsteps +again, as if it feared its own sound the less when the wind might cover +it. A faint pale gleam showed between two dark clouds behind which the +moon had been hidden; it grew brighter, and a jagged rent was torn, so +that the moon herself for a second or so shone out dazzling bright before +the clouds rushed over her again and shut her in. + +It was at this very instant Mistress Anne heard the footsteps once more, +and saw full well a figure in dark cloak and hat which stepped quickly +into the shade of a great tree. But more she saw--and clapped her hand +upon her mouth to stifle the cry that would have otherwise risen in spite +of her--that notwithstanding his fair locks were thrust out of sight +beneath his hat, and he looked strange and almost uncomely, it was the +face of Sir John Oxon, the moon, bursting through the jagged clouds, had +shone upon. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--Two meet in the deserted rose garden, and the old Earl of +Dunstanwolde is made a happy man + + +It was not until three days later, instead of two, that Sir John Oxon +rode into the courtyard with his servant behind him. He had been +detained on his journey, but looked as if his impatience had not caused +him to suffer, for he wore his finest air of spirit and beauty, and when +he was alone with Sir Jeoffry, made his compliments to the absent ladies, +and inquired of their health with his best town grace. + +Mistress Clorinda did not appear until the dining hour, when she swept +into the room like a queen, followed by her sister, Anne, and Mistress +Wimpole, this being the first occasion of Mistress Anne's dining, as it +were, in state with her family. + +The honour had so alarmed her, that she looked pale, and so ugly that Sir +Jeoffry scowled at sight of her, and swore under his breath to Clorinda +that she should have been allowed to come. + +"I know my own affairs the best, by your leave, sir," answered Clorinda, +as low and with a grand flash of her eye. "She hath been drilled well." + +This she had indeed, and so had Mistress Wimpole, and throughout Sir John +Oxon's stay they were called upon to see that they played well their +parts. Two weeks he stayed and then rode gaily back to town, and when +Clorinda made her sweeping curtsey to the ground to him upon the +threshold of the flowered room in which he bade her farewell, both Anne +and Mistress Wimpole curtseyed a step behind her. + +"Now that he has gone and you have shown me that you can attend me as I +wish," she said, turning to them as the sound of his horse's hoofs died +away, "it will not trouble me should he choose some day to come again. He +has not carried with him much that he can boast of." + +In truth, it seemed to the outer world that she had held him well in +hand. If he had come as a sighing lover, the whole county knew she had +shown him but small favour. She had invited companies to the house on +several occasions, and all could see how she bore herself towards him. +She carried herself with a certain proud courtesy as becoming the +daughter of his host, but her wit did not spare him, and sometimes when +it was more than in common cutting he was seen to wince though he held +himself gallantly. There were one or two who thought they now and then +had seen his blue eyes fall upon her when he believed none were looking, +and rest there burningly for a moment, but 'twas never for more than an +instant, when he would rouse himself with a start and turn away. + +She had been for a month or two less given to passionate outbreaks, +having indeed decided that it was to her interest as a young lady and a +future great one to curb herself. Her tirewoman, Rebecca, had begun to +dare to breathe more freely when she was engaged about her person, and +had, in truth, spoken of her pleasanter fortune among her fellows in the +servants' hall. + +But a night or two after the visitor took his departure, she gave way to +such an outburst as even Rebecca had scarce ever beheld, being roused to +it by a small thing in one sense, though in yet another perhaps great +enough, since it touched upon the despoiling of one of her beauties. + +She was at her toilet-table being prepared for the night, and her long +hair brushed and dressed before retiring. Mistress Wimpole had come in +to the chamber to do something at her bidding, and chancing to stand +gazing at her great and heavy fall of locks as she was waiting, she +observed a thing which caused her, foolish woman that she was, to give a +start and utter an unwise exclamation. + +"Madam!" she gasped--"madam!" + +"What then!" quoth Mistress Clorinda angrily. "You bring my heart to my +throat!" + +"Your hair!" stammered Wimpole, losing all her small wit--"your beauteous +hair! A lock is gone, madam!" + +Clorinda started to her feet, and flung the great black mass over her +white shoulder, that she might see it in the glass. + +"Gone!" she cried. "Where? How? What mean you? Ah-h!" + +Her voice rose to a sound that was well-nigh a scream. She saw the +rifled spot--a place where a great lock had been severed jaggedly--and it +must have been five feet long. + +She turned and sprang upon her woman, her beautiful face distorted with +fury, and her eyes like flames of fire. She seized her by each shoulder +and boxed her ears until her head spun round and bells rang within it. + +"'Twas you!" she shrieked. "'Twas you--she-devil-beast--slut that you +are! 'Twas when you used your scissors to the new head you made for me. +You set it on my hair that you might set a loop--and in your sluttish way +you snipped a lock by accident and hid it from me." + +She beat her till her own black hair flew about her like the mane of a +fury; and having used her hands till they were tired, she took her brush +from the table and beat her with that till the room echoed with the blows +on the stout shoulders. + +"Mistress, 'twas not so!" cried the poor thing, sobbing and struggling. +"'Twas not so, madam!" + +"Madam, you will kill the woman," wept Mistress Wimpole. "I beseech +you--! 'Tis not seemly, I beseech--" + +Mistress Clorinda flung her woman from her and threw the brush at +Mistress Wimpole, crying at her with the lordly rage she had been wont to +shriek with when she wore breeches. + +"Damnation to thy seemliness!" she cried, "and to thee too! Get thee +gone--from me, both--get thee gone from my sight!" + +And both women fled weeping, and sobbing, and gasping from the room +incontinently. + +She was shrewish and sullen with her woman for days after, and it was the +poor creature's labour to keep from her sight, when she dressed her head, +the place from whence the lock had been taken. In the servants' hall the +woman vowed that it was not she who had cut it, that she had had no +accident, though it was true she had used the scissors about her head, +yet it was but in snipping a ribbon, and she had not touched a hair. + +"If she were another lady," she said, "I should swear some gallant had +robbed her of it; but, forsooth, she does not allow them to come near +enough for such sport, and with five feet of hair wound up in coronals, +how could a man unwind a lock, even if 'twas permitted him to stand at +her very side." + +Two years passed, and the beauty had no greater fields to conquer than +those she found in the country, since her father, Sir Jeoffry, had not +the money to take her to town, he becoming more and more involved and so +fallen into debt that it was even whispered that at times it went hard +with him to keep even the poor household he had. + +Mistress Clorinda's fortunes the gentry of the neighbourhood discussed +with growing interest and curiosity. What was like to become of her +great gifts and powers in the end, if she could never show them to the +great world, and have the chance to carry her splendid wares to the +fashionable market where there were men of quality and wealth who would +be like to bid for them. She had not chosen to accept any of those who +had offered themselves so far, and it was believed that for some reason +she had held off my lord of Dunstanwolde in his suit. 'Twas evident that +he admired her greatly, and why he had not already made her his countess +was a sort of mystery which was productive of many discussions and bore +much talking over. Some said that, with all her beauty and his +admiration, he was wary and waited, and some were pleased to say that the +reason he waited was because the young lady herself contrived that he +should, it being her desire to make an open conquest of Sir John Oxon, +and show him to the world as her slave, before she made up her mind to +make even a much greater match. Some hinted that for all her +disdainfulness and haughty pride she would marry Sir John if he asked +her, but that he being as brilliant a beau as she a beauty, he was too +fond of his pleasures and his gay town life to give them up even to a +goddess who had no fortune. His own had not been a great one, and he had +squandered it magnificently, his extravagances being renowned in the +world of fashion, and having indeed founded for him his reputation. + +It was, however, still his way to accept frequent hospitalities from his +kinsman Eldershawe, and Sir Jeoffry was always rejoiced enough to secure +him as his companion for a few days when he could lure him from the +dissipation of the town. At such times it never failed that Mistress +Wimpole and poor Anne kept their guard. Clorinda never allowed them to +relax their vigilance, and Mistress Wimpole ceased to feel afraid, and +became accustomed to her duties, but Anne never did so. She looked +always her palest and ugliest when Sir John was in the house, and she +would glance with sad wonder and timid adoration from him to Clorinda; +but sometimes when she looked at Sir John her plain face would grow +crimson, and once or twice he caught her at the folly, and when she +dropped her eyes overwhelmed with shame, he faintly smiled to himself, +seeing in her a new though humble conquest. + +There came a day when in the hunting-field there passed from mouth to +mouth a rumour, and Sir Jeoffry, hearing it, came pounding over on his +big black horse to his daughter and told it to her in great spirits. + +"He is a sly dog, John Oxon," he said, a broad grin on his rubicund face. +"This very week he comes to us, and he and I are cronies, yet he has +blabbed nothing of what is being buzzed about by all the world." + +"He has learned how to keep a closed mouth," said Mistress Clorinda, +without asking a question. + +"But 'tis marriage he is so mum about, bless ye!" said Sir Jeoffry. "And +that is not a thing to be hid long. He is to be shortly married, they +say. My lady, his mother, has found him a great fortune in a new beauty +but just come to town. She hath great estates in the West Indies, as +well as a fine fortune in England--and all the world is besieging her; +but Jack hath come and bowed sighing before her, and writ some verses, +and borne her off from them all." + +"'Tis time," said Clorinda, "that he should marry some woman who can pay +his debts and keep him out of the spunging house, for to that he will +come if he does not play his cards with skill." + +Sir Jeoffry looked at her askance and rubbed his red chin. + +"I wish thou hadst liked him, Clo," he said, "and ye had both had +fortunes to match. I love the fellow, and ye would have made a handsome +pair." + +Mistress Clorinda laughed, sitting straight in her saddle, her fine eyes +unblenching, though the sun struck them. + +"We had fortunes to match," she said--"I was a beggar and he was a +spendthrift. Here comes Lord Dunstanwolde." + +And as the gentleman rode near, it seemed to his dazzled eyes that the +sun so shone down upon her because she was a goddess and drew it from the +heavens. + +In the west wing of the Hall 'twas talked of between Mistress Wimpole and +her charges, that a rumour of Sir John Oxon's marriage was afloat. + +"Yet can I not believe it," said Mistress Margery; "for if ever a +gentleman was deep in love, though he bitterly strove to hide it, 'twas +Sir John, and with Mistress Clorinda." + +"But she," faltered Anne, looking pale and even agitated--"she was always +disdainful to him and held him at arm's length. I--I wished she would +have treated him more kindly." + +"'Tis not her way to treat men kindly," said Mistress Wimpole. + +But whether the rumour was true or false--and there were those who +bestowed no credit upon it, and said it was mere town talk, and that the +same things had been bruited abroad before--it so chanced that Sir John +paid no visit to his relative or to Sir Jeoffry for several months. 'Twas +heard once that he had gone to France, and at the French Court was making +as great a figure as he had made at the English one, but of this even his +kinsman Lord Eldershawe could speak no more certainly than he could of +the first matter. + +The suit of my Lord of Dunstanwolde--if suit it was--during these months +appeared to advance somewhat. All orders of surmises were made +concerning it--that Mistress Clorinda had privately quarrelled with Sir +John and sent him packing; that he had tired of his love-making, as 'twas +well known he had done many times before, and having squandered his +possessions and finding himself in open straits, must needs patch up his +fortunes in a hurry with the first heiress whose estate suited him. But +'twas the women who said these things; the men swore that no man could +tire of or desert such spirit and beauty, and that if Sir John Oxon +stayed away 'twas because he had been commanded to do so, it never having +been Mistress Clorinda's intention to do more than play with him awhile, +she having been witty against him always for a fop, and meaning herself +to accept no man as a husband who could not give her both rank and +wealth. + +"We know her," said the old boon companions of her childhood, as they +talked of her over their bottles. "She knew her price and would bargain +for it when she was not eight years old, and would give us songs and +kisses but when she was paid for them with sweet things and knickknacks +from the toy-shops. She will marry no man who cannot make her at least a +countess, and she would take him but because there was not a duke at +hand. We know her, and her beauty's ways." + +But they did not know her; none knew her, save herself. + +In the west wing, which grew more bare and ill-furnished as things wore +out and time went by, Mistress Anne waxed thinner and paler. She was so +thin in two months' time, that her soft, dull eyes looked twice their +natural size, and seemed to stare piteously at people. One day, indeed, +as she sat at work in her sister's room, Clorinda being there at the +time, the beauty, turning and beholding her face suddenly, uttered a +violent exclamation. + +"Why look you at me so?" she said. "Your eyes stand out of your head +like a new-hatched, unfeathered bird's. They irk me with their strange +asking look. Why do you stare at me?" + +"I do not know," Anne faltered. "I could not tell you, sister. My eyes +seem to stare so because of my thinness. I have seen them in my mirror." + +"Why do you grow thin?" quoth Clorinda harshly. "You are not ill." + +"I--I do not know," again Anne faltered. "Naught ails me. I do not +know. For--forgive me!" + +Clorinda laughed. + +"Soft little fool," she said, "why should you ask me to forgive you? I +might as fairly ask you to forgive _me_, that I keep my shape and show no +wasting." + +Anne rose from her chair and hurried to her sister's side, sinking upon +her knees there to kiss her hand. + +"Sister," she said, "one could never dream that you could need pardon. I +love you so--that all you do, it seems to me must be right--whatsoever it +might be." + +Clorinda drew her fair hands away and clasped them on the top of her +head, proudly, as if she crowned herself thereby, her great and splendid +eyes setting themselves upon her sister's face. + +"All that I do," she said slowly, and with the steadfast high arrogance +of an empress' self--"All that I do _is_ right--for me. I make it so by +doing it. Do you think that I am conquered by the laws that other women +crouch and whine before, because they dare not break them, though they +long to do so? _I_ am my own law--and the law of some others." + +It was by this time the first month of the summer, and to-night there was +again a birth-night ball, at which the beauty was to dazzle all eyes; but +'twas of greater import than the one she had graced previously, it being +to celebrate the majority of the heir to an old name and estate, who had +been orphaned early, and was highly connected, counting, indeed, among +the members of his family the Duke of Osmonde, who was one of the richest +and most envied nobles in Great Britain, his dukedom being of the oldest, +his numerous estates the most splendid and beautiful, and the long +history of his family full of heroic deeds. This nobleman was also a +distant kinsman to the Earl of Dunstanwolde, and at this ball, for the +first time for months, Sir John Oxon appeared again. + +He did not arrive on the gay scene until an hour somewhat late. But +there was one who had seen him early, though no human soul had known of +the event. + +In the rambling, ill-cared for grounds of Wildairs Hall there was an old +rose-garden, which had once been the pride and pleasure of some lady of +the house, though this had been long ago; and now it was but a lonely +wilderness where roses only grew because the dead Lady Wildairs had loved +them, and Barbara and Anne had tended them, and with their own hands +planted and pruned during their childhood and young maiden days. But of +late years even they had seemed to have forgotten it, having become +discouraged, perchance, having no gardeners to do the rougher work, and +the weeds and brambles so running riot. There were high hedges and +winding paths overgrown and run wild; the stronger rose-bushes grew in +tangled masses, flinging forth their rich blooms among the weeds; such as +were more delicate, struggling to live among them, became more frail and +scant-blossoming season by season; a careless foot would have trodden +them beneath it as their branches grew long and trailed in the grass; but +for many months no foot had trodden there at all, and it was a beauteous +place deserted. + +In the centre was an ancient broken sun-dial, which was in these days in +the midst of a sort of thicket, where a bold tangle of the finest red +roses clambered, and, defying neglect, flaunted their rich colour in the +sun. + +And though the place had been so long forgotten, and it was not the +custom for it to be visited, about this garlanded broken sun-dial the +grass was a little trodden, and on the morning of the young heir's coming +of age some one stood there in the glowing sunlight as if waiting. + +This was no less than Mistress Clorinda herself. She was clad in a +morning gown of white, which seemed to make of her more than ever a tall, +transcendent creature, less a woman than a conquering goddess; and she +had piled the dial with scarlet red roses, which she was choosing to +weave into a massive wreath or crown, for some purpose best known to +herself. Her head seemed haughtier and more splendidly held on high even +than was its common wont, but upon these roses her lustrous eyes were +downcast and were curiously smiling, as also was her ripe, arching lip, +whose scarlet the blossoms vied with but poorly. It was a smile like +this, perhaps, which Mistress Wimpole feared and trembled before, for +'twas not a tender smile nor a melting one. If she was waiting, she did +not wait long, nor, to be sure, would she have long waited if she had +been kept by any daring laggard. This was not her way. + +'Twas not a laggard who came soon, stepping hurriedly with light feet +upon the grass, as though he feared the sound which might be made if he +had trodden upon the gravel. It was Sir John Oxon who came towards her +in his riding costume. + +He came and stood before her on the other side of the dial, and made her +a bow so low that a quick eye might have thought 'twas almost mocking. +His feather, sweeping the ground, caught a fallen rose, which clung to +it. His beauty, when he stood upright, seemed to defy the very morning's +self and all the morning world; but Mistress Clorinda did not lift her +eyes, but kept them upon her roses, and went on weaving. + +"Why did you choose to come?" she asked. + +"Why did you choose to keep the tryst in answer to my message?" he +replied to her. + +At this she lifted her great shining eyes and fixed them full upon him. + +"I wished," she said, "to hear what you would say--but more to _see_ you +than to hear." + +"And I," he began--"I came--" + +She held up her white hand with a long-stemmed rose in it--as though a +queen should lift a sceptre. + +"You came," she answered, "more to see _me_ than to hear. You made that +blunder." + +"You choose to bear yourself like a goddess, and disdain me from Olympian +heights," he said. "I had the wit to guess it would be so." + +She shook her royal head, faintly and most strangely smiling. + +"That you had not," was her clear-worded answer. "That is a later +thought sprung up since you have seen my face. 'Twas quick--for you--but +not quick enough." And the smile in her eyes was maddening. "You +thought to see a woman crushed and weeping, her beauty bent before you, +her locks dishevelled, her streaming eyes lifted to Heaven--and you--with +prayers, swearing that not Heaven could help her so much as your deigning +magnanimity. You have seen women do this before, you would have seen +_me_ do it--at your feet--crying out that I was lost--lost for ever. +_That_ you expected! 'Tis not here." + +Debauched as his youth was, and free from all touch of heart or +conscience--for from his earliest boyhood he had been the pupil of rakes +and fashionable villains--well as he thought he knew all women and their +ways, betraying or betrayed--this creature taught him a new thing, a new +mood in woman, a new power which came upon him like a thunderbolt. + +"Gods!" he exclaimed, catching his breath, and even falling back apace, +"Damnation! you are _not_ a woman!" + +She laughed again, weaving her roses, but not allowing that his eyes +should loose themselves from hers. + +"But now, you called me a goddess and spoke of Olympian heights," she +said; "I am not one--I am a woman who would show other women how to bear +themselves in hours like these. Because I am a woman why should I kneel, +and weep, and rave? What have I lost--in losing you? I should have lost +the same had I been twice your wife. What is it women weep and beat +their breasts for--because they love a man--because they lose his love. +They never have them." + +She had finished the wreath, and held it up in the sun to look at it. +What a strange beauty was hers, as she held it so--a heavy, sumptuous +thing--in her white hands, her head thrown backward. + +"You marry soon," she asked--"if the match is not broken?" + +"Yes," he answered, watching her--a flame growing in his eyes and in his +soul in his own despite. + +"It cannot be too soon," she said. And she turned and faced him, holding +the wreath high in her two hands poised like a crown above her head--the +brilliant sun embracing her, her lips curling, her face uplifted as if +she turned to defy the light, the crimson of her cheek. 'Twas as if from +foot to brow the woman's whole person was a flame, rising and burning +triumphant high above him. Thus for one second's space she stood, +dazzling his very eyesight with her strange, dauntless splendour; and +then she set the great rose-wreath upon her head, so crowning it. + +"You came to see me," she said, the spark in her eyes growing to the size +of a star; "I bid you look at me--and see how grief has faded me these +past months, and how I am bowed down by it. Look well--that you may +remember." + +"I look," he said, almost panting. + +"Then," she said, her fine-cut nostril pinching itself with her breath, +as she pointed down the path before her--"_go_!--back to your kennel!" + +* * * * * + +That night she appeared at the birth-night ball with the wreath of roses +on her head. No other ladies wore such things, 'twas a fashion of her +own; but she wore it in such beauty and with such state that it became a +crown again even as it had been the first moment that she had put it on. +All gazed at her as she entered, and a murmur followed her as she moved +with her father up the broad oak staircase which was known through all +the country for its width and massive beauty. In the hall below guests +were crowded, and there were indeed few of them who did not watch her as +she mounted by Sir Jeoffry's side. In the upper hall there were guests +also, some walking to and fro, some standing talking, many looking down +at the arrivals as they came up. + +"'Tis Mistress Wildairs," these murmured as they saw her. "Clorinda, by +God!" said one of the older men to his crony who stood near him. "And +crowned with roses! The vixen makes them look as if they were built of +rubies in every leaf." + +At the top of the great staircase there stood a gentleman, who had indeed +paused a moment, spellbound, as he saw her coming. He was a man of +unusual height and of a majestic mien; he wore a fair periwig, which +added to his tallness; his laces and embroiderings were marvels of art +and richness, and his breast blazed with orders. Strangely, she did not +seem to see him; but when she reached the landing, and her face was +turned so that he beheld the full blaze of its beauty, 'twas so great a +wonder and revelation to him that he gave a start. The next moment +almost, one of the red roses of her crown broke loose from its fastenings +and fell at his very feet. His countenance changed so that it seemed +almost, for a second, to lose some of its colour. He stooped and picked +the rose up and held it in his hand. But Mistress Clorinda was looking +at my Lord of Dunstanwolde, who was moving through the crowd to greet +her. She gave him a brilliant smile, and from her lustrous eyes surely +there passed something which lit a fire of hope in his. + +After she had made her obeisance to her entertainers, and her birthday +greetings to the young heir, he contrived to draw closely to her side and +speak a few words in a tone those near her could not hear. + +"To-night, madam," he said, with melting fervour, "you deign to bring me +my answer as you promised." + +"Yes," she murmured. "Take me where we may be a few moments alone." + +He led her to an antechamber, where they were sheltered from the gaze of +the passers-by, though all was moving gaiety about them. He fell upon +his knee and bowed to kiss her fair hand. Despite the sobriety of his +years, he was as eager and tender as a boy. + +"Be gracious to me, madam," he implored. "I am not young enough to wait. +Too many months have been thrown away." + +"You need wait no longer, my lord," she said--"not one single hour." + +And while he, poor gentleman, knelt, kissing her hand with adoring +humbleness, she, under the splendour of her crown of roses, gazed down at +his grey-sprinkled head with her great steady shining orbs, as if gazing +at some almost uncomprehended piteous wonder. + +In less than an hour the whole assemblage knew of the event and talked of +it. Young men looked daggers at Dunstanwolde and at each other; and +older men wore glum or envious faces. Women told each other 'twas as +they had known it would be, or 'twas a wonder that at last it had come +about. Upon the arm of her lord that was to be, Mistress Clorinda passed +from room to room like a royal bride. + +As she made her first turn of the ballroom, all eyes upon her, her beauty +blazing at its highest, Sir John Oxon entered and stood at the door. He +wore his gallant air, and smiled as ever; and when she drew near him he +bowed low, and she stopped, and bent lower in a curtsey sweeping the +ground. + +'Twas but in the next room her lord led her to a gentleman who stood with +a sort of court about him. It was the tall stranger, with the fair +periwig, and the orders glittering on his breast--the one who had started +at sight of her as she had reached the landing of the stairs. He held +still in his hand a broken red rose, and when his eye fell on her crown +the colour mounted to his cheek. + +"My honoured kinsman, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde," said her affianced +lord. "Your Grace--it is this lady who is to do me the great honour of +becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde." + +And as the deep, tawny brown eye of the man bending before her flashed +into her own, for the first time in her life Mistress Clorinda's lids +fell, and as she swept her curtsey of stately obeisance her heart struck +like a hammer against her side. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--"I give to him the thing he craves with all his soul--myself" + + +In a month she was the Countess of Dunstanwolde, and reigned in her +lord's great town house with a retinue of servants, her powdered lackeys +among the tallest, her liveries and equipages the richest the world of +fashion knew. She was presented at the Court, blazing with the +Dunstanwolde jewels, and even with others her bridegroom had bought in +his passionate desire to heap upon her the magnificence which became her +so well. From the hour she knelt to kiss the hand of royalty she set the +town on fire. It seemed to have been ordained by Fate that her passage +through this world should be always the triumphant passage of a +conqueror. As when a baby she had ruled the servants' hall, the kennel, +and the grooms' quarters, later her father and his boisterous friends, +and from her fifteenth birthday the whole hunting shire she lived in, so +she held her sway in the great world, as did no other lady of her rank or +any higher. Those of her age seemed but girls yet by her side, whether +married or unmarried, and howsoever trained to modish ways. She was but +scarce eighteen at her marriage, but she was no girl, nor did she look +one, glowing as was the early splendour of her bloom. Her height was far +beyond the ordinary for a woman; but her shape so faultless and her +carriage so regal, that though there were men upon whom she was tall +enough to look down with ease, the beholder but felt that her tallness +was an added grace and beauty with which all women should have been +endowed, and which, as they were not, caused them to appear but +insignificant. What a throat her diamonds blazed on, what shoulders and +bosom her laces framed, on what a brow her coronet sat and glittered. Her +lord lived as 'twere upon his knees in enraptured adoration. Since his +first wife's death in his youth, he had dwelt almost entirely in the +country at his house there, which was fine and stately, but had been kept +gloomily half closed for a decade. His town establishment had, in truth, +never been opened since his bereavement; and now--an elderly man--he +returned to the gay world he had almost forgotten, with a bride whose +youth and beauty set it aflame. What wonder that his head almost reeled +at times and that he lost his breath before the sum of his strange late +bliss, and the new lease of brilliant life which seemed to have been +given to him. + +In the days when, while in the country, he had heard such rumours of the +lawless days of Sir Jeoffry Wildairs' daughter, when he had heard of her +dauntless boldness, her shrewish temper, and her violent passions, he had +been awed at the thought of what a wife such a woman would make for a +gentleman accustomed to a quiet life, and he had indeed striven hard to +restrain the desperate admiration he was forced to admit she had inspired +in him even at her first ball. + +The effort had, in sooth, been in vain, and he had passed many a +sleepless night; and when, as time went on, he beheld her again and +again, and saw with his own eyes, as well as heard from others, of the +great change which seemed to have taken place in her manners and +character, he began devoutly to thank Heaven for the alteration, as for a +merciful boon vouchsafed to him. He had been wise enough to know that +even a stronger man than himself could never conquer or rule her; and +when she seemed to begin to rule herself and bear herself as befitted her +birth and beauty, he had dared to allow himself to dream of what +perchance might be if he had great good fortune. + +In these days of her union with him, he was, indeed, almost humbly amazed +at the grace and kindness she showed him every hour they passed in each +other's company. He knew that there were men, younger and handsomer than +himself, who, being wedded to beauties far less triumphant than she, +found that their wives had but little time to spare them from the world, +which knelt at their feet, and that in some fashion they themselves +seemed to fall into the background. But 'twas not so with this woman, +powerful and worshipped though she might be. She bore herself with the +high dignity of her rank, but rendered to him the gracious respect and +deference due both to his position and his merit. She stood by his side +and not before him, and her smiles and wit were bestowed upon him as +generously as to others. If she had once been a vixen, she was surely so +no longer, for he never heard a sharp or harsh word pass her lips, though +it is true her manner was always somewhat imperial, and her lacqueys and +waiting women stood in greatest awe of her. There was that in her +presence and in her eye before which all commoner or weaker creatures +quailed. The men of the world who flocked to pay their court to her, and +the popinjays who followed them, all knew this look, and a tone in her +rich voice which could cut like a knife when she chose that it should do +so. But to my Lord of Dunstanwolde she was all that a worshipped lady +could be. + +"Your ladyship has made of me a happier man than I ever dared to dream of +being, even when I was but thirty," he would say to her, with reverent +devotion. "I know not what I have done to deserve this late summer which +hath been given me." + +"When I consented to be your wife," she answered once, "I swore to myself +that I would make one for you;" and she crossed the hearth to where he +sat--she was attired in all her splendour for a Court ball, and starred +with jewels--bent over his chair and placed a kiss upon his grizzled +hair. + +Upon the night before her wedding with him, her sister, Mistress Anne, +had stolen to her chamber at a late hour. When she had knocked upon the +door, and had been commanded to enter, she had come in, and closing the +door behind her, had stood leaning against it, looking before her, with +her eyes wide with agitation and her poor face almost grey. + +All the tapers for which places could be found had been gathered +together, and the room was a blaze of light. In the midst of it, before +her mirror, Clorinda stood attired in her bridal splendour of white satin +and flowing rich lace, a diamond crescent on her head, sparks of light +flaming from every point of her raiment. When she caught sight of Anne's +reflection in the glass before her, she turned and stood staring at her +in wonder. + +"What--nay, what is this?" she cried. "What do you come for? On my +soul, you come for something--or you have gone mad." + +Anne started forward, trembling, her hands clasped upon her breast, and +fell at her feet with sobs. + +"Yes, yes," she gasped, "I came--for something--to speak--to pray you--! +Sister--Clorinda, have patience with me--till my courage comes again!" +and she clutched her robe. + +Something which came nigh to being a shudder passed through Mistress +Clorinda's frame; but it was gone in a second, and she touched +Anne--though not ungently--with her foot, withdrawing her robe. + +"Do not stain it with your tears," she said, "'twould be a bad omen." + +Anne buried her face in her hands and knelt so before her. + +"'Tis not too late!" she said--"'tis not too late yet." + +"For what?" Clorinda asked. "For what, I pray you tell me, if you can +find your wits. You go beyond my patience with your folly." + +"Too late to stop," said Anne--"to draw back and repent." + +"What?" commanded Clorinda--"what then should I repent me?" + +"This marriage," trembled Mistress Anne, taking her poor hands from her +face to wring them. "It should not be." + +"Fool!" quoth Clorinda. "Get up and cease your grovelling. Did you come +to tell me it was not too late to draw back and refuse to be the Countess +of Dunstanwolde?" and she laughed bitterly. + +"But it should not be--it must not!" Anne panted. "I--I know, sister, I +know--" + +Clorinda bent deliberately and laid her strong, jewelled hand on her +shoulder with a grasp like a vice. There was no hurry in her movement or +in her air, but by sheer, slow strength she forced her head backward so +that the terrified woman was staring in her face. + +"Look at me," she said. "I would see you well, and be squarely looked +at, that my eyes may keep you from going mad. You have pondered over +this marriage until you have a frenzy. Women who live alone are +sometimes so, and your brain was always weak. What is it that you know. +Look--in my eyes--and tell me." + +It seemed as if her gaze stabbed through Anne's eyes to the very centre +of her brain. Anne tried to bear it, and shrunk and withered; she would +have fallen upon the floor at her feet a helpless, sobbing heap, but the +white hand would not let her go. + +"Find your courage--if you have lost it--and speak plain words," Clorinda +commanded. Anne tried to writhe away, but could not again, and burst +into passionate, hopeless weeping. + +"I cannot--I dare not!" she gasped. "I am afraid. You are right; my +brain is weak, and I--but that--that gentleman--who so loved you--" + +"Which?" said Clorinda, with a brief scornful laugh. + +"The one who was so handsome--with the fair locks and the gallant air--" + +"The one you fell in love with and stared at through the window," said +Clorinda, with her brief laugh again. "John Oxon! He has victims +enough, forsooth, to have spared such an one as you are." + +"But he loved you!" cried Anne piteously, "and it must have been that +you--you too, sister--or--or else--" She choked again with sobs, and +Clorinda released her grasp upon her shoulder and stood upright. + +"He wants none of me--nor I of him," she said, with strange sternness. +"We have done with one another. Get up upon your feet if you would not +have me thrust you out into the corridor." + +She turned from her, and walking back to her dressing-table, stood there +steadying the diadem on her hair, which had loosed a fastening when Anne +tried to writhe away from her. Anne half sat, half knelt upon the floor, +staring at her with wet, wild eyes of misery and fear. + +"Leave your kneeling," commanded her sister again, "and come here." + +Anne staggered to her feet and obeyed her behest. In the glass she could +see the resplendent reflection; but Clorinda did not deign to turn +towards her while she addressed her, changing the while the brilliants in +her hair. + +"Hark you, sister Anne," she said. "I read you better than you think. +You are a poor thing, but you love me and--in my fashion--I think I love +you somewhat too. You think I should not marry a gentleman whom you +fancy I do not love as I might a younger, handsomer man. You are full of +love, and spinster dreams of it which make you flighty. I love my Lord +of Dunstanwolde as well as any other man, and better than some, for I do +not hate him. He has a fine estate, and is a gentleman--and worships me. +Since I have been promised to him, I own I have for a moment seen another +gentleman who _might_--but 'twas but for a moment, and 'tis done with. +'Twas too late then. If we had met two years agone 'twould not have been +so. My Lord Dunstanwolde gives to me wealth, and rank, and life at +Court. I give to him the thing he craves with all his soul--myself. It +is an honest bargain, and I shall bear my part of it with honesty. I +have no virtues--where should I have got them from, forsooth, in a life +like mine? I mean I have no women's virtues; but I have one that is +sometimes--not always--a man's. 'Tis that I am not a coward and a +trickster, and keep my word when 'tis given. You fear that I shall lead +my lord a bitter life of it. 'Twill not be so. He shall live smoothly, +and not suffer from me. What he has paid for he shall honestly have. I +will not cheat him as weaker women do their husbands; for he pays--poor +gentleman--he pays." + +And then, still looking at the glass, she pointed to the doorway through +which her sister had come, and in obedience to her gesture of command, +Mistress Anne stole silently away. + + + + +CHAPTER X--"Yes--I have marked him" + + +Through the brilliant, happy year succeeding to his marriage my Lord of +Dunstanwolde lived like a man who dreams a blissful dream and knows it is +one. + +"I feel," he said to his lady, "as if 'twere too great rapture to last, +and yet what end could come, unless you ceased to be kind to me; and, in +truth, I feel that you are too noble above all other women to change, +unless I were more unworthy than I could ever be since you are mine." + +Both in the town and in the country, which last place heard many things +of his condition and estate through rumour, he was the man most wondered +at and envied of his time--envied because of his strange happiness; +wondered at because having, when long past youth, borne off this arrogant +beauty from all other aspirants she showed no arrogance to him, and was +as perfect a wife as could have been some woman without gifts whom he had +lifted from low estate and endowed with rank and fortune. She seemed +both to respect himself and her position as his lady and spouse. Her +manner of reigning in his household was among his many delights the +greatest. It was a great house, and an old one, built long before by a +Dunstanwolde whose lavish feasts and riotous banquets had been the +notable feature of his life. It was curiously rambling in its structure. +The rooms of entertainment were large and splendid, the halls and +staircases stately; below stairs there was space for an army of servants +to be disposed of; and its network of cellars and wine-vaults was so +beyond all need that more than one long arched stone passage was shut up +as being without use, and but letting cold, damp air into corridors +leading to the servants' quarters. It was, indeed, my Lady Dunstanwolde +who had ordered the closing of this part when it had been her pleasure to +be shown her domain by her housekeeper, the which had greatly awed and +impressed her household as signifying that, exalted lady as she was, her +wit was practical as well as brilliant, and that her eyes being open to +her surroundings, she meant not that her lacqueys should rob her and her +scullions filch, thinking that she was so high that she was ignorant of +common things and blind. + +"You will be well housed and fed and paid your dues," she said to them; +"but the first man or woman who does a task ill or dishonestly will be +turned from his place that hour. I deal justice--not mercy." + +"Such a mistress they have never had before," said my lord when she +related this to him. "Nay, they have never dreamed of such a lady--one +who can be at once so severe and so kind. But there is none other such, +my dearest one. They will fear and worship you." + +She gave him one of her sweet, splendid smiles. It was the sweetness she +at rare times gave her splendid smile which was her marvellous power. + +"I would not be too grand a lady to be a good housewife," she said. "I +may not order your dinners, my dear lord, or sweep your corridors, but +they shall know I rule your household and would rule it well." + +"You are a goddess!" he cried, kneeling to her, enraptured. "And you +have given yourself to a poor mortal man, who can but worship you." + +"You give me all I have," she said, "and you love me nobly, and I am +grateful." + +Her assemblies were the most brilliant in the town, and the most to be +desired entrance to. Wits and beauties planned and intrigued that they +might be bidden to her house; beaux and fine ladies fell into the spleen +if she neglected them. Her lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde, who had +been present when she first knelt to Royalty, had scarce removed his eyes +from her so long as he could gaze. He went to Dunstanwolde afterwards +and congratulated him with stately courtesy upon his great good fortune +and happiness, speaking almost with fire of her beauty and majesty, and +thanking his kinsman that through him such perfections had been given to +their name and house. From that time, at all special assemblies given by +his kinsman he was present, the observed of all observers. He was a man +of whom 'twas said that he was the most magnificent gentleman in Europe; +that there was none to compare with him in the combination of gifts given +both by Nature and Fortune. His beauty both of feature and carriage was +of the greatest, his mind was of the highest, and his education far +beyond that of the age he lived in. It was not the fashion of the day +that men of his rank should devote themselves to the cultivation of their +intellects instead of to a life of pleasure; but this he had done from +his earliest youth, and now, in his perfect though early maturity, he had +no equal in polished knowledge and charm of bearing. He was the patron +of literature and art; men of genius were not kept waiting in his +antechamber, but were received by him with courtesy and honour. At the +Court 'twas well known there was no man who stood so near the throne in +favour, and that there was no union so exalted that he might not have +made his suit as rather that of a superior than an equal. The Queen both +loved and honoured him, and condescended to avow as much with gracious +frankness. She knew no other man, she deigned to say, who was so worthy +of honour and affection, and that he had not married must be because +there was no woman who could meet him on ground that was equal. If there +were no scandals about him--and there were none--'twas not because he was +cold of heart or imagination. No man or woman could look into his deep +eye and not know that when love came to him 'twould be a burning passion, +and an evil fate if it went ill instead of happily. + +"Being past his callow, youthful days, 'tis time he made some woman a +duchess," Dunstanwolde said reflectively once to his wife. "'Twould be +more fitting that he should; and it is his way to honour his house in all +things, and bear himself without fault as the head of it. Methinks it +strange he makes no move to do it." + +"No, 'tis not strange," said my lady, looking under her black-fringed +lids at the glow of the fire, as though reflecting also. "There is no +strangeness in it." + +"Why not?" her lord asked. + +"There is no mate for him," she answered slowly. "A man like him must +mate as well as marry, or he will break his heart with silent raging at +the weakness of the thing he is tied to. He is too strong and splendid +for a common woman. If he married one, 'twould be as if a lion had taken +to himself for mate a jackal or a sheep. Ah!" with a long drawn +breath--"he would go mad--mad with misery;" and her hands, which lay upon +her knee, wrung themselves hard together, though none could see it. + +"He should have a goddess, were they not so rare," said Dunstanwolde, +gently smiling. "He should hold a bitter grudge against me, that I, his +unworthy kinsman, have been given the only one." + +"Yes, he should have a goddess," said my lady slowly again; "and there +are but women, naught but women." + +"You have marked him well," said her lord, admiring her wisdom. "Methinks +that you--though you have spoken to him but little, and have but of late +become his kinswoman--have marked and read him better than the rest of +us." + +"Yes--I have marked him," was her answer. + +"He is a man to mark, and I have a keen eye." She rose up as she spoke, +and stood before the fire, lifted by some strong feeling to her fullest +height, and towering there, splendid in the shadow--for 'twas by twilight +they talked. "He is a Man," she said--"he is a Man! Nay, he is as God +meant man should be. And if men were so, there would be women great +enough for them to mate with and to give the world men like them." And +but that she stood in the shadow, her lord would have seen the crimson +torrent rush up her cheek and brow, and overspread her long round throat +itself. + +If none other had known of it, there was one man who knew that she had +marked him, though she had borne herself towards him always with her +stateliest grace. This man was his Grace the Duke himself. From the +hour that he had stood transfixed as he watched her come up the broad oak +stair, from the moment that the red rose fell from her wreath at his +feet, and he had stooped to lift it in his hand, he had seen her as no +other man had seen her, and he had known that had he not come but just +too late, she would have been his own. Each time he had beheld her since +that night he had felt this burn more deeply in his soul. He was too +high and fine in all his thoughts to say to himself that in her he saw +for the first time the woman who was his peer; but this was very truth--or +might have been, if Fate had set her youth elsewhere, and a lady who was +noble and her own mother had trained and guarded her. When he saw her at +the Court surrounded, as she ever was, by a court of her own; when he saw +her reigning in her lord's house, receiving and doing gracious honour to +his guests and hers; when she passed him in her coach, drawing every eye +by the majesty of her presence, as she drove through the town, he felt a +deep pang, which was all the greater that his honour bade him conquer it. +He had no ignoble thought of her, he would have scorned to sully his soul +with any light passion; to him she was the woman who might have been his +beloved wife and duchess, who would have upheld with him the honour and +traditions of his house, whose strength and power and beauty would have +been handed down to his children, who so would have been born endowed +with gifts befitting the state to which Heaven had called them. It was +of this he thought when he saw her, and of naught less like to do her +honour. And as he had marked her so, he saw in her eyes, despite her +dignity and grace, she had marked him. He did not know how closely, or +that she gave him the attention he could not restrain himself from +bestowing upon her. But when he bowed before her, and she greeted him +with all courtesy, he saw in her great, splendid eye that had Fate willed +it so, she would have understood all his thoughts, shared all his +ambitions, and aided him to uphold his high ideals. Nay, he knew she +understood him even now, and was stirred by what stirred him also, even +though they met but rarely, and when they encountered each other, spoke +but as kinsman and kinswoman who would show each other all gracious +respect and honour. It was because of this pang which struck his great +heart at times that he was not a frequent visitor at my Lord +Dunstanwolde's mansion, but appeared there only at such assemblies as +were matters of ceremony, his absence from which would have been a noted +thing. His kinsman was fond of him, and though himself of so much riper +age, honoured him greatly. At times he strove to lure him into visits of +greater familiarity; but though his kindness was never met coldly or +repulsed, a further intimacy was in some gracious way avoided. + +"My lady must beguile you to be less formal with us," said Dunstanwolde. +And later her ladyship spoke as her husband had privately desired: "My +lord would be made greatly happy if your Grace would honour our house +oftener," she said one night, when at the end of a great ball he was +bidding her adieu. + +Osmonde's deep eye met hers gently and held it. "My Lord Dunstanwolde is +always gracious and warm of heart to his kinsman," he replied. "Do not +let him think me discourteous or ungrateful. In truth, your ladyship, I +am neither the one nor the other." + +The eyes of each gazed into the other's steadfastly and gravely. The +Duke of Osmonde thought of Juno's as he looked at hers; they were of such +velvet, and held such fathomless deeps. + +"Your Grace is not so free as lesser men," Clorinda said. "You cannot +come and go as you would." + +"No," he answered gravely, "I cannot, as I would." + +And this was all. + +It having been known by all the world that, despite her beauty and her +conquests, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had not smiled with great favour +upon Sir John Oxon in the country, it was not wondered at or made any +matter of gossip that the Countess of Dunstanwolde was but little +familiar with him and saw him but rarely at her house in town. + +Once or twice he had appeared there, it is true, at my Lord +Dunstanwolde's instance, but my lady herself scarce seemed to see him +after her first courtesies as hostess were over. + +"You never smiled on him, my love," Dunstanwolde said to his wife. "You +bore yourself towards him but cavalierly, as was your ladyship's way--with +all but one poor servant," tenderly; "but he was one of the many who +followed in your train, and if these gay young fellows stay away, 'twill +be said that I keep them at a distance because I am afraid of their youth +and gallantry. I would not have it fancied that I was so ungrateful as +to presume upon your goodness and not leave to you your freedom." + +"Nor would I, my lord," she answered. "But he will not come often; I do +not love him well enough." + +His marriage with the heiress who had wealth in the West Indies was +broken off, or rather 'twas said had come to naught. All the town knew +it, and wondered, and talked, because it had been believed at first that +the young lady was much enamoured of him, and that he would soon lead her +to the altar, the which his creditors had greatly rejoiced over as +promising them some hope that her fortune would pay their bills of which +they had been in despair. Later, however, gossip said that the heiress +had not been so tender as was thought; that, indeed, she had been found +to be in love with another man, and that even had she not, she had heard +such stories of Sir John as promised but little nuptial happiness for any +woman that took him to husband. + +When my Lord Dunstanwolde brought his bride to town, and she soared at +once to splendid triumph and renown, inflaming every heart, and setting +every tongue at work, clamouring her praises, Sir John Oxon saw her from +afar in all the scenes of brilliant fashion she frequented and reigned +queen of. 'Twas from afar, it might be said, he saw her only, though he +was often near her, because she bore herself as if she did not observe +him, or as though he were a thing which did not exist. The first time +that she deigned to address him was upon an occasion when she found +herself standing so near him at an assembly that in the crowd she brushed +him with her robe. His blue eyes were fixed burningly upon her, and as +she brushed him he drew in a hard breath, which she hearing, turned +slowly and let her own eyes fall upon his face. + +"You did not marry," she said. + +"No, I did not marry," he answered, in a low, bitter voice. "'Twas your +ladyship who did that." + +She faintly, slowly smiled. + +"I should not have been like to do otherwise," she said; "'tis an +honourable condition. I would advise you to enter it." + + + + +CHAPTER XI--Wherein a noble life comes to an end + + +When the earl and his countess went to their house in the country, there +fell to Mistress Anne a great and curious piece of good fortune. In her +wildest dreams she had never dared to hope that such a thing might be. + +My Lady Dunstanwolde, on her first visit home, bore her sister back with +her to the manor, and there established her. She gave her a suite of +rooms and a waiting woman of her own, and even provided her with a +suitable wardrobe. This last she had chosen herself with a taste and +fitness which only such wit as her own could have devised. + +"They are not great rooms I give thee, Anne," she said, "but quiet and +small ones, which you can make home-like in such ways as I know your +taste lies. My lord has aided me to choose romances for your shelves, he +knowing more of books than I do. And I shall not dress thee out like a +peacock with gay colours and great farthingales. They would frighten +thee, poor woman, and be a burden with their weight. I have chosen such +things as are not too splendid, but will suit thy pale face and shot +partridge eyes." + +Anne stood in the middle of her room and looked about at its comforts, +wondering. + +"Sister," she said, "why are you so good to me? What have I done to +serve you? Why is it Anne instead of Barbara you are so gracious to?" + +"Perchance because I am a vain woman and would be worshipped as you +worship me." + +"But you are always worshipped," Anne faltered. + +"Ay, by men!" said Clorinda, mocking; "but not by women. And it may be +that my pride is so high that I must be worshipped by a woman too. You +would always love me, sister Anne. If you saw me break the law--if you +saw me stab the man I hated to the heart, you would think it must be +pardoned to me." + +She laughed, and yet her voice was such that Anne lost her breath and +caught at it again. + +"Ay, I should love you, sister!" she cried. "Even then I could not but +love you. I should know you could not strike so an innocent creature, +and that to be so hated he must have been worthy of hate. You--are not +like other women, sister Clorinda; but you could not be base--for you +have a great heart." + +Clorinda put her hand to her side and laughed again, but with less +mocking in her laughter. + +"What do you know of my heart, Anne?" she said. "Till late I did not +know it beat, myself. My lord says 'tis a great one and noble, but I +know 'tis his own that is so. Have I done honestly by him, Anne, as I +told you I would? Have I been fair in my bargain--as fair as an honest +man, and not a puling, slippery woman?" + +"You have been a great lady," Anne answered, her great dull, soft eyes +filling with slow tears as she gazed at her. "He says that you have +given to him a year of Heaven, and that you seem to him like some +archangel--for the lower angels seem not high enough to set beside you." + +"'Tis as I said--'tis his heart that is noble," said Clorinda. "But I +vowed it should be so. He paid--he paid!" + +The country saw her lord's happiness as the town had done, and wondered +at it no less. The manor was thrown open, and guests came down from +town; great dinners and balls being given, at which all the country saw +the mistress reign at her consort's side with such a grace as no lady +ever had worn before. Sir Jeoffry, appearing at these assemblies, was so +amazed that he forgot to muddle himself with drink, in gazing at his +daughter and following her in all her movements. + +"Look at her!" he said to his old boon companions and hers, who were as +much awed as he. "Lord! who would think she was the strapping, handsome +shrew that swore, and sang men's songs to us, and rode to the hunt in +breeches." + +He was awed at the thought of paying fatherly visits to her house, and +would have kept away, but that she was kind to him in the way he was best +able to understand. + +"I am country-bred, and have not the manners of your town men, my lady," +he said to her, as he sat with her alone on one of the first mornings he +spent with her in her private apartment. "I am used to rap out an oath +or an ill-mannered word when it comes to me. Dunstanwolde has weaned you +of hearing such things--and I am too old a dog to change." + +"Wouldst have thought I was too old to change," answered she, "but I was +not. Did I not tell thee I would be a great lady? There is naught a man +or woman cannot learn who hath the wit." + +"Thou hadst it, Clo," said Sir Jeoffry, gazing at her with a sort of slow +wonder. "Thou hadst it. If thou hadst not--!" He paused, and shook his +head, and there was a rough emotion in his coarse face. "I was not the +man to have made aught but a baggage of thee, Clo. I taught thee naught +decent, and thou never heard or saw aught to teach thee. Damn me!" +almost with moisture in his eyes, "if I know what kept thee from going to +ruin before thou wert fifteen." + +She sat and watched him steadily. + +"Nor I," quoth she, in answer. "Nor I--but here thou seest me, Dad--an +earl's lady, sitting before thee." + +"'Twas thy wit," said he, still moved, and fairly maudlin. "'Twas thy +wit and thy devil's will!" + +"Ay," she answered, "'twas they--my wit and my devil's will!" + +She rode to the hunt with him as she had been wont to do, but she wore +the latest fashion in hunting habit and coat; and though 'twould not have +been possible for her to sit her horse better than of old, or to take +hedges and ditches with greater daring and spirit, yet in some way every +man who rode with her felt that 'twas a great lady who led the field. The +horse she rode was a fierce, beauteous devil of a beast which Sir Jeoffry +himself would scarce have mounted even in his younger days; but she +carried her loaded whip, and she sat upon the brute as if she scarcely +felt its temper, and held it with a wrist of steel. + +My Lord Dunstanwolde did not hunt this season. He had never been greatly +fond of the sport, and at this time was a little ailing, but he would not +let his lady give up her pleasure because he could not join it. + +"Nay," he said, "'tis not for the queen of the hunting-field to stay at +home to nurse an old man's aches. My pride would not let it be so. Your +father will attend you. Go--and lead them all, my dear." + +In the field appeared Sir John Oxon, who for a brief visit was at +Eldershawe. He rode close to my lady, though she had naught to say to +him after her first greetings of civility. He looked not as fresh and +glowing with youth as had been his wont only a year ago. His reckless +wildness of life and his town debaucheries had at last touched his bloom, +perhaps. He had a haggard look at moments when his countenance was not +lighted by excitement. 'Twas whispered that he was deep enough in debt +to be greatly straitened, and that his marriage having come to naught his +creditors were besetting him without mercy. This and more than this, no +one knew so well as my Lady Dunstanwolde; but of a certainty she had +little pity for his evil case, if one might judge by her face, when in +the course of the running he took a hedge behind her, and pressing his +horse, came up by her side and spoke. + +"Clorinda," he began breathlessly, through set teeth. + +She could have left him and not answered, but she chose to restrain the +pace of her wild beast for a moment and look at him. + +"'Your ladyship!'" she corrected his audacity. "Or--'my Lady +Dunstanwolde.'" + +"There was a time"--he said. + +"This morning," she said, "I found a letter in a casket in my closet. I +do not know the mad villain who wrote it. I never knew him." + +"You did not," he cried, with an oath, and then laughed scornfully. + +"The letter lies in ashes on the hearth," she said. "'Twas burned +unopened. Do not ride so close, Sir John, and do not play the madman and +the beast with the wife of my Lord Dunstanwolde." + +"'The wife!'" he answered. "'My lord!' 'Tis a new game this, and well +played, by God!" + +She did not so much as waver in her look, and her wide eyes smiled. + +"Quite new," she answered him--"quite new. And could I not have played +it well and fairly, I would not have touched the cards. Keep your horse +off, Sir John. Mine is restive, and likes not another beast near him;" +and she touched the creature with her whip, and he was gone like a +thunderbolt. + +The next day, being in her room, Anne saw her come from her +dressing-table with a sealed letter in her hand. She went to the bell +and rang it. + +"Anne," she said, "I am going to rate my woman and turn her from my +service. I shall not beat or swear at her as I was wont to do with my +women in time past. You will be afraid, perhaps; but you must stay with +me." + +She was standing by the fire with the letter held almost at arm's length +in her finger-tips, when the woman entered, who, seeing her face, turned +pale, and casting her eyes upon the letter, paler still, and began to +shake. + +"You have attended mistresses of other ways than mine," her lady said in +her slow, clear voice, which seemed to cut as knives do. "Some fool and +madman has bribed you to serve him. You cannot serve me also. Come +hither and put this in the fire. If 'twere to be done I would make you +hold it in the live coals with your hand." + +The woman came shuddering, looking as if she thought she might be struck +dead. She took the letter and kneeled, ashen pale, to burn it. When +'twas done, her mistress pointed to the door. + +"Go and gather your goods and chattels together, and leave within this +hour," she said. "I will be my own tirewoman till I can find one who +comes to me honest." + +When she was gone, Anne sat gazing at the ashes on the hearth. She was +pale also. + +"Sister," she said, "do you--" + +"Yes," answered my lady. "'Tis a man who loved me, a cur and a knave. He +thought for an hour he was cured of his passion. I could have told him +'twould spring up and burn more fierce than ever when he saw another man +possess me. 'Tis so with knaves and curs; and 'tis so with him. He hath +gone mad again." + +"Ay, mad!" cried Anne--"mad, and base, and wicked!" + +Clorinda gazed at the ashes, her lips curling. + +"He was ever base," she said--"as he was at first, so he is now. 'Tis +thy favourite, Anne," lightly, and she delicately spurned the blackened +tinder with her foot--"thy favourite, John Oxon." + +Mistress Anne crouched in her seat and hid her face in her thin hands. + +"Oh, my lady!" she cried, not feeling that she could say "sister," "if he +be base, and ever was so, pity him, pity him! The base need pity more +than all." + +For she had loved him madly, all unknowing her own passion, not presuming +even to look up in his beautiful face, thinking of him only as the slave +of her sister, and in dead secrecy knowing strange things--strange +things! And when she had seen the letter she had known the handwriting, +and the beating of her simple heart had well-nigh strangled her--for she +had seen words writ by him before. + +* * * * * + +When Dunstanwolde and his lady went back to their house in town, Mistress +Anne went with them. Clorinda willed that it should be so. She made her +there as peaceful and retired a nest of her own as she had given to her +at Dunstanwolde. By strange good fortune Barbara had been wedded to a +plain gentleman, who, being a widower with children, needed a help-meet +in his modest household, and through a distant relationship to Mistress +Wimpole, encountered her charge, and saw in her meekness of spirit the +thing which might fall into the supplying of his needs. A beauty or a +fine lady would not have suited him; he wanted but a housewife and a +mother for his orphaned children, and this, a young woman who had lived +straitly, and been forced to many contrivances for mere decency of +apparel and ordinary comfort, might be trained to become. + +So it fell that Mistress Anne could go to London without pangs of +conscience at leaving her sister in the country and alone. The +stateliness of the town mansion, my Lady Dunstanwolde's retinue of +lacqueys and serving-women, her little black page, who waited on her and +took her pug dogs to walk, her wardrobe, and jewels, and equipages, were +each and all marvels to her, but seemed to her mind so far befitting that +she remembered, wondering, the days when she had darned the tattered +tapestry in her chamber, and changed the ribbands and fashions of her +gowns. Being now attired fittingly, though soberly as became her, she +was not in these days--at least, as far as outward seeming went--an +awkward blot upon the scene when she appeared among her sister's company; +but at heart she was as timid and shrinking as ever, and never mingled +with the guests in the great rooms when she could avoid so doing. Once +or twice she went forth with Clorinda in her coach and six, and saw the +glittering world, while she drew back into her corner of the equipage and +gazed with all a country-bred woman's timorous admiration. + +"'Twas grand and like a beautiful show!" she said, when she came home the +first time. "But do not take me often, sister; I am too plain and shy, +and feel that I am naught in it." + +But though she kept as much apart from the great World of Fashion as she +could, she contrived to know of all her sister's triumphs; to see her +when she went forth in her bravery, though 'twere but to drive in the +Mall; to be in her closet with her on great nights when her tirewomen +were decking her in brocades and jewels, that she might show her highest +beauty at some assembly or ball of State. And at all these times, as +also at all others, she knew that she but shared her own love and dazzled +admiration with my Lord Dunstanwolde, whose tenderness, being so fed by +his lady's unfailing graciousness of bearing and kindly looks and words, +grew with every hour that passed. + +They held one night a splendid assembly at which a member of the Royal +House was present. That night Clorinda bade her sister appear. + +"Sometimes--I do not command it always--but sometimes you must show +yourself to our guests. My lord will not be pleased else. He says it is +not fitting that his wife's sister should remain unseen as if we hid her +away through ungraciousness. Your woman will prepare for you all things +needful. I myself will see that your dress becomes you. I have +commanded it already, and given much thought to its shape and colour. I +would have you very comely, Anne." And she kissed her lightly on her +cheek--almost as gently as she sometimes kissed her lord's grey hair. In +truth, though she was still a proud lady and stately in her ways, there +had come upon her some strange subtle change Anne could not understand. + +On the day on which the assembly was held, Mistress Anne's woman brought +to her a beautiful robe. 'Twas flowered satin of the sheen and softness +of a dove's breast, and the lace adorning it was like a spider's web for +gossamer fineness. The robe was sweetly fashioned, fitting her shape +wondrously; and when she was attired in it at night a little colour came +into her cheeks to see herself so far beyond all comeliness she had ever +known before. When she found herself in the midst of the dazzling scene +in the rooms of entertainment, she was glad when at last she could feel +herself lost among the crowd of guests. Her only pleasure in such scenes +was to withdraw to some hidden corner and look on as at a pageant or a +play. To-night she placed herself in the shadow of a screen, from which +retreat she could see Clorinda and Dunstanwolde as they received their +guests. Thus she found enjoyment enough; for, in truth, her love and +almost abject passion of adoration for her sister had grown as his +lordship's had, with every hour. For a season there had rested upon her +a black shadow beneath which she wept and trembled, bewildered and lost; +though even at its darkest the object of her humble love had been a star +whose brightness was not dimmed, because it could not be so whatsoever +passed before it. This cloud, however, being it seemed dispelled, the +star had shone but more brilliant in its high place, and she the more +passionately worshipped it. To sit apart and see her idol's radiance, to +mark her as she reigned and seemed the more royal when she bent the knee +to royalty itself, to see the shimmer of her jewels crowning her midnight +hair and crashing the warm whiteness of her noble neck, to observe the +admiration in all eyes as they dwelt upon her--this was, indeed, enough +of happiness. + +"She is, as ever," she murmured, "not so much a woman as a proud lovely +goddess who has deigned to descend to earth. But my lord does not look +like himself. He seems shrunk in the face and old, and his eyes have +rings about them. I like not that. He is so kind a gentleman and so +happy that his body should not fail him. I have marked that he has +looked colourless for days, and Clorinda questioned him kindly on it, but +he said he suffered naught." + +'Twas but a little later than she had thought this, that she remarked a +gentleman step aside and stand quite near without observing her. Feeling +that she had no testimony to her fancifulness, she found herself thinking +in a vague fashion that he, too, had come there because he chose to be +unobserved. 'Twould not have been so easy for him to retire as it had +been for her smallness and insignificance to do so; and, indeed, she did +not fancy that he meant to conceal himself, but merely to stand for a +quiet moment a little apart from the crowd. + +And as she looked up at him, wondering why this should be, she saw he was +the noblest and most stately gentleman she had ever beheld. + +She had never seen him before; he must either be a stranger or a rare +visitor. As Clorinda was beyond a woman's height, he was beyond a man's. + +He carried himself as kingly as she did nobly; he had a countenance of +strong, manly beauty, and a deep tawny eye, thick-fringed and full of +fire; orders glittered upon his breast, and he wore a fair periwig, which +became him wondrously, and seemed to make his eye more deep and burning +by its contrast. + +Beside his strength and majesty of bearing the stripling beauty of John +Oxon would have seemed slight and paltry, a thing for flippant women to +trifle with. + +Mistress Anne looked at him with an admiration somewhat like reverence, +and as she did so a sudden thought rose to her mind, and even as it rose, +she marked what his gaze rested on, and how it dwelt upon it, and knew +that he had stepped apart to stand and gaze as she did--only with a man's +hid fervour--at her sister's self. + +'Twas as if suddenly a strange secret had been told her. She read it in +his face, because he thought himself unobserved, and for a space had cast +his mask aside. He stood and gazed as a man who, starving at soul, fed +himself through his eyes, having no hope of other sustenance, or as a man +weary with long carrying of a burden, for a space laid it down for rest +and to gather power to go on. She heard him draw a deep sigh almost +stifled in its birth, and there was that in his face which she felt it +was unseemly that a stranger like herself should behold, himself +unknowing of her near presence. + +She gently rose from her corner, wondering if she could retire from her +retreat without attracting his observation; but as she did so, chance +caused him to withdraw himself a little farther within the shadow of the +screen, and doing so, he beheld her. + +Then his face changed; the mask of noble calmness, for a moment fallen, +resumed itself, and he bowed before her with the reverence of a courtly +gentleman, undisturbed by the unexpectedness of his recognition of her +neighbourhood. + +"Madam," he said, "pardon my unconsciousness that you were near me. You +would pass?" And he made way for her. + +She curtseyed, asking his pardon with her dull, soft eyes. + +"Sir," she answered, "I but retired here for a moment's rest from the +throng and gaiety, to which I am unaccustomed. But chiefly I sat in +retirement that I might watch--my sister." + +"Your sister, madam?" he said, as if the questioning echo were almost +involuntary, and he bowed again in some apology. + +"My Lady Dunstanwolde," she replied. "I take such pleasure in her +loveliness and in all that pertains to her, it is a happiness to me to +but look on." + +Whatsoever the thing was in her loving mood which touched him and found +echo in his own, he was so far moved that he answered to her with +something less of ceremoniousness; remembering also, in truth, that she +was a lady he had heard of, and recalling her relationship and name. + +"It is then Mistress Anne Wildairs I am honoured by having speech with," +he said. "My Lady Dunstanwolde has spoken of you in my presence. I am +my lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde;" again bowing, and Anne curtseyed +low once more. + +Despite his greatness, she felt a kindness and grace in him which was not +condescension, and which almost dispelled the timidity which, being part +of her nature, so unduly beset her at all times when she addressed or was +addressed by a stranger. John Oxon, bowing his bright curls, and seeming +ever to mock with his smiles, had caused her to be overcome with shy +awkwardness and blushes; but this man, who seemed as far above him in +person and rank and mind as a god is above a graceful painted puppet, +even appeared to give of his own noble strength to her poor weakness. He +bore himself towards her with a courtly respect such as no human being +had ever shown to her before. He besought her again to be seated in her +nook, and stood before her conversing with such delicate sympathy with +her mood as seemed to raise her to the pedestal on which stood less +humble women. All those who passed before them he knew and could speak +easily of. The high deeds of those who were statesmen, or men honoured +at Court or in the field, he was familiar with; and of those who were +beauties or notable gentlewomen he had always something courtly to say. + +Her own worship of her sister she knew full well he understood, though he +spoke of her but little. + +"Well may you gaze at her," he said. "So does all the world, and honours +and adores." + +He proffered her at last his arm, and she, having strangely taken +courage, let him lead her through the rooms and persuade her to some +refreshment. Seeing her so wondrously emerge from her chrysalis, and +under the protection of so distinguished a companion, all looked at her +as she passed with curious amazement, and indeed Mistress Anne was all +but overpowered by the reverence shown them as they made their way. + +As they came again into the apartment wherein the host and hostess +received their guests, Anne felt her escort pause, and looked up at him +to see the meaning of his sudden hesitation. He was gazing intently, not +at Clorinda, but at the Earl of Dunstanwolde. + +"Madam," he said, "pardon me that I seem to detain you, but--but I look +at my kinsman. Madam," with a sudden fear in his voice, "he is ailing--he +sways as he stands. Let us go to him. Quickly! He falls!" + +And, in sooth, at that very moment there arose a dismayed cry from the +guests about them, and there was a surging movement; and as they pressed +forward themselves through the throng, Anne saw Dunstanwolde no more +above the people, for he had indeed fallen and lay outstretched and +deathly on the floor. + +'Twas but a few seconds before she and Osmonde were close enough to him +to mark his fallen face and ghastly pallor, and a strange dew starting +out upon his brow. + +But 'twas his wife who knelt beside his prostrate body, waving all else +aside with a great majestic gesture of her arm. + +"Back! back!" she cried. "Air! air! and water! My lord! My dear lord!" + +But he did not answer, or even stir, though she bent close to him and +thrust her hand within his breast. And then the frightened guests beheld +a strange but beautiful and loving thing, such as might have moved any +heart to tenderness and wonder. This great beauty, this worshipped +creature, put her arms beneath and about the helpless, awful body--for so +its pallor and stillness indeed made it--and lifted it in their powerful +whiteness as if it had been the body of a child, and so bore it to a +couch near and laid it down, kneeling beside it. + +Anne and Osmonde were beside her. Osmonde pale himself, but gently calm +and strong. He had despatched for a physician the instant he saw the +fall. + +"My lady," he said, bending over her, "permit me to approach. I have +some knowledge of these seizures. Your pardon!" + +He knelt also and took the moveless hand, feeling the pulse; he, too, +thrust his hand within the breast and held it there, looking at the +sunken face. + +"My dear lord," her ladyship was saying, as if to the prostrate man's ear +alone, knowing that her tender voice must reach him if aught would--as +indeed was truth. "Edward! My dear--dear lord!" + +Osmonde held his hand steadily over the heart. The guests shrunk back, +stricken with terror. + +There was that in this corner of the splendid room which turned faces +pale. + +Osmonde slowly withdrew his hand, and turning to the kneeling woman--with +a pallor like that of marble, but with a noble tenderness and pity in his +eyes-- + +"My lady," he said, "you are a brave woman. Your great courage must +sustain you. The heart beats no more. A noble life is finished." + +* * * * * + +The guests heard, and drew still farther back, a woman or two faintly +whimpering; a hurrying lacquey parted the crowd, and so, way being made +for him, the physician came quickly forward. + +Anne put her shaking hands up to cover her gaze. Osmonde stood still, +looking down. My Lady Dunstanwolde knelt by the couch and hid her +beautiful face upon the dead man's breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--Which treats of the obsequies of my Lord of Dunstanwolde, of +his lady's widowhood, and of her return to town + + +All that remained of my Lord Dunstanwolde was borne back to his ancestral +home, and there laid to rest in the ancient tomb in which his fathers +slept. Many came from town to pay him respect, and the Duke of Osmonde +was, as was but fitting, among them. The countess kept her own +apartments, and none but her sister, Mistress Anne, beheld her. + +The night before the final ceremonies she spent sitting by her lord's +coffin, and to Anne it seemed that her mood was a stranger one, than ever +woman had before been ruled by. She did not weep or moan, and only once +kneeled down. In her sweeping black robes she seemed more a majestic +creature than she had ever been, and her beauty more that of a statue +than of a mortal woman. She sent away all other watchers, keeping only +her sister with her, and Anne observed in her a strange protecting +gentleness when she spoke of the dead man. + +"I do not know whether dead men can feel and hear," she said. "Sometimes +there has come into my mind--and made me shudder--the thought that, +though they lie so still, mayhap they know what we do--and how they are +spoken of as nothings whom live men and women but wait a moment to thrust +away, that their own living may go on again in its accustomed way, or +perchance more merrily. If my lord knows aught, he will be grateful that +I watch by him to-night in this solemn room. He was ever grateful, and +moved by any tenderness of mine." + +'Twas as she said, the room was solemn, and this almost to awfulness. It +was a huge cold chamber at best, and draped with black, and hung with +hatchments; a silent gloom filled it which made it like a tomb. Tall wax- +candles burned in it dimly, but adding to its solemn shadows with their +faint light; and in his rich coffin the dead man lay in his shroud, his +hands like carvings of yellowed ivory clasped upon his breast. + +Mistress Anne dared not have entered the place alone, and was so overcome +at sight of the pinched nostrils and sunk eyes that she turned cold with +fear. But Clorinda seemed to feel no dread or shrinking. She went and +stood beside the great funeral-draped bed of state on which the coffin +lay, and thus standing, looked down with a grave, protecting pity in her +face. Then she stooped and kissed the dead man long upon the brow. + +"I will sit by you to-night," she said. "That which lies here will be +alone to-morrow. I will not leave you this last night. Had I been in +your place you would not leave me." + +She sat down beside him and laid her strong warm hand upon his cold waxen +ones, closing it over them as if she would give them heat. Anne knelt +and prayed--that all might be forgiven, that sins might be blotted out, +that this kind poor soul might find love and peace in the kingdom of +Heaven, and might not learn there what might make bitter the memory of +his last year of rapture and love. She was so simple that she forgot +that no knowledge of the past could embitter aught when a soul looked +back from Paradise. + +Throughout the watches of the night her sister sat and held the dead +man's hand; she saw her more than once smooth his grey hair almost as a +mother might have touched a sick sleeping child's; again she kissed his +forehead, speaking to him gently, as if to tell him he need not fear, for +she was close at hand; just once she knelt, and Anne wondered if she +prayed, and in what manner, knowing that prayer was not her habit. + +'Twas just before dawn she knelt so, and when she rose and stood beside +him, looking down again, she drew from the folds of her robe a little +package. + +"Anne," she said, as she untied the ribband that bound it, "when first I +was his wife I found him one day at his desk looking at these things as +they lay upon his hand. He thought at first it would offend me to find +him so; but I told him that I was gentler than he thought--though not so +gentle as the poor innocent girl who died in giving him his child. 'Twas +her picture he was gazing at, and a little ring and two locks of hair--one +a brown ringlet from her head, and one--such a tiny wisp of down--from +the head of her infant. I told him to keep them always and look at them +often, remembering how innocent she had been, and that she had died for +him. There were tears on my hand when he kissed it in thanking me. He +kept the little package in his desk, and I have brought it to him." + +The miniature was of a sweet-faced girl with large loving childish eyes, +and cheeks that blushed like the early morning. Clorinda looked at her +almost with tenderness. + +"There is no marrying or giving in marriage, 'tis said," quoth she; "but +were there, 'tis you who were his wife--not I. I was but a lighter +thing, though I bore his name and he honoured me. When you and your +child greet him he will forget me--and all will be well." + +She held the miniature and the soft hair to his cold lips a moment, and +Anne saw with wonder that her own mouth worked. She slipped the ring on +his least finger, and hid the picture and the ringlets within the palms +of his folded hands. + +"He was a good man," she said; "he was the first good man that I had ever +known." And she held out her hand to Anne and drew her from the room +with her, and two crystal tears fell upon the bosom of her black robe and +slipped away like jewels. + +When the funeral obsequies were over, the next of kin who was heir came +to take possession of the estate which had fallen to him, and the widow +retired to her father's house for seclusion from the world. The town +house had been left to her by her deceased lord, but she did not wish to +return to it until the period of her mourning was over and she laid aside +her weeds. The income the earl had been able to bestow upon her made her +a rich woman, and when she chose to appear again in the world it would be +with the power to mingle with it fittingly. + +During her stay at her father's house she did much to make it a more +suitable abode for her, ordering down from London furnishings and workmen +to set her own apartments and Anne's in order. But she would not occupy +the rooms she had lived in heretofore. For some reason it seemed to be +her whim to have begun to have an enmity for them. The first day she +entered them with Anne she stopped upon the threshold. + +"I will not stay here," she said. "I never loved the rooms--and now I +hate them. It seems to me it was another woman who lived in them--in +another world. 'Tis so long ago that 'tis ghostly. Make ready the old +red chambers for me," to her woman; "I will live there. They have been +long closed, and are worm-eaten and mouldy perchance; but a great fire +will warm them. And I will have furnishings from London to make them fit +for habitation." + +The next day it seemed for a brief space as if she would have changed +even from the red chambers. + +"I did not know," she said, turning with a sudden movement from a side +window, "that one might see the old rose garden from here. I would not +have taken the room had I guessed it. It is too dreary a wilderness, +with its tangle of briars and its broken sun-dial." + +"You cannot see the dial from here," said Anne, coming towards her with a +strange paleness and haste. "One cannot see _within_ the garden from any +window, surely." + +"Nay," said Clorinda; "'tis not near enough, and the hedges are too high; +but one knows 'tis there, and 'tis tiresome." + +"Let us draw the curtains and not look, and forget it," said poor Anne. +And she drew the draperies with a trembling hand; and ever after while +they dwelt in the room they stayed so. + +My lady wore her mourning for more than a year, and in her sombre +trailing weeds was a wonder to behold. She lived in her father's house, +and saw no company, but sat or walked and drove with her sister Anne, and +visited the poor. The perfect stateliness of her decorum was more talked +about than any levity would have been; those who were wont to gossip +expecting that having made her fine match and been so soon rid of her +lord, she would begin to show her strange wild breeding again, and +indulge in fantastical whims. That she should wear her mourning with +unflinching dignity and withdraw from the world as strictly as if she had +been a lady of royal blood mourning her prince, was the unexpected thing, +and so was talked of everywhere. + +At the end of the eighteenth month she sent one day for Anne, who, coming +at her bidding, found her standing in her chamber surrounded by black +robes and draperies piled upon the bed, and chairs, and floor, their +sombreness darkening the room like a cloud; but she stood in their midst +in a trailing garment of pure white, and in her bosom was a bright red +rose tied with a knot of scarlet ribband, whose ends fell floating. Her +woman was upon her knees before a coffer in which she was laying the +weeds as she folded them. + +Mistress Anne paused within the doorway, her eyes dazzled by the tall +radiant shape and blot of scarlet colour as if by the shining of the sun. +She knew in that moment that all was changed, and that the world of +darkness they had been living in for the past months was swept from +existence. When her sister had worn her mourning weeds she had seemed +somehow almost pale; but now she stood in the sunlight with the rich +scarlet on her cheek and lip, and the stars in her great eyes. + +"Come in, sister Anne," she said. "I lay aside my weeds, and my woman is +folding them away for me. Dost know of any poor creature newly left a +widow whom some of them would be a help to? 'Tis a pity that so much +sombreness should lie in chests when there are perhaps poor souls to whom +it would be a godsend." + +Before the day was over, there was not a shred of black stuff left in +sight; such as had not been sent out of the house to be distributed, +being packed away in coffers in the garrets under the leads. + +"You will wear it no more, sister?" Anne asked once. "You will wear gay +colours--as if it had never been?" + +"It _is_ as if it had never been," Clorinda answered. "Ere now her lord +is happy with her, and he is so happy that I am forgot. I had a fancy +that--perhaps at first--well, if he had looked down on earth-- +remembering--he would have seen I was faithful in my honouring of him. +But now, I am sure--" + +She stopped with a half laugh. "'Twas but a fancy," she said. "Perchance +he has known naught since that night he fell at my feet--and even so, +poor gentleman, he hath a happy fate. Yes, I will wear gay colours," +flinging up her arms as if she dropped fetters, and stretched her +beauteous limbs for ease--"gay colours--and roses and rich jewels--and +all things--_all_ that will make me beautiful!" + +The next day there came a chest from London, packed close with splendid +raiment; when she drove out again in her chariot her servants' +sad-coloured liveries had been laid by, and she was attired in rich hues, +amidst which she glowed like some flower new bloomed. + +Her house in town was thrown open again, and set in order for her coming. +She made her journey back in state, Mistress Anne accompanying her in her +travelling-coach. As she passed over the highroad with her equipage and +her retinue, or spent the night for rest at the best inns in the towns +and villages, all seemed to know her name and state. + +"'Tis the young widow of the Earl of Dunstanwolde," people said to each +other--"she that is the great beauty, and of such a wit and spirit that +she is scarce like a mere young lady. 'Twas said she wed him for his +rank; but afterwards 'twas known she made him a happy gentleman, though +she gave him no heir. She wore weeds for him beyond the accustomed time, +and is but now issuing from her retirement." + +Mistress Anne felt as if she were attending some royal lady's progress, +people so gazed at them and nudged each other, wondered and admired. + +"You do not mind that all eyes rest on you," she said to her sister; "you +are accustomed to be gazed at." + +"I have been gazed at all my life," my lady answered; "I scarce take note +of it." + +On their arrival at home they met with fitting welcome and reverence. The +doors of the town house were thrown open wide, and in the hall the +servants stood in line, the housekeeper at the head with her keys at her +girdle, the little jet-black negro page grinning beneath his turban with +joy to see his lady again, he worshipping her as a sort of fetich, after +the manner of his race. 'Twas his duty to take heed to the pet dogs, and +he stood holding by their little silver chains a smart-faced pug and a +pretty spaniel. His lady stopped a moment to pat them and to speak to +him a word of praise of their condition; and being so favoured, he spoke +also, rolling his eyes in his delight at finding somewhat to impart. + +"Yesterday, ladyship, when I took them out," he said, "a gentleman marked +them, knowing whose they were. He asked me when my lady came again to +town, and I answered him to-day. 'Twas the fair gentleman in his own +hair." + +"'Twas Sir John Oxon, your ladyship," said the lacquey nearest to him. + +Her ladyship left caressing her spaniel and stood upright. Little Nero +was frightened, fearing she was angered; she stood so straight and tall, +but she said nothing and passed on. + +At the top of the staircase she turned to Mistress Anne with a laugh. + +"Thy favourite again, Anne," she said. "He means to haunt me, now we are +alone. 'Tis thee he comes after." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--Wherein a deadly war begins + + +The town and the World of Fashion greeted her on her return with open +arms. Those who looked on when she bent the knee to kiss the hand of +Royalty at the next drawing-room, whispered among themselves that +bereavement had not dimmed her charms, which were even more radiant than +they had been at her presentation on her marriage, and that the mind of +no man or woman could dwell on aught as mournful as widowhood in +connection with her, or, indeed, could think of anything but her +brilliant beauty. 'Twas as if from this time she was launched into a new +life. Being rich, of high rank, and no longer an unmarried woman, her +position had a dignity and freedom which there was no creature but might +have envied. As the wife of Dunstanwolde she had been the fashion, and +adored by all who dared adore her; but as his widow she was surrounded +and besieged. A fortune, a toast, a wit, and a beauty, she combined all +the things either man or woman could desire to attach themselves to the +train of; and had her air been less regal, and her wit less keen of edge, +she would have been so beset by flatterers and toadies that life would +have been burdensome. But this she would not have, and was swift enough +to detect the man whose debts drove him to the expedient of daring to +privately think of the usefulness of her fortune, or the woman who +manoeuvred to gain reputation or success by means of her position and +power. + +"They would be about me like vultures if I were weak fool enough to let +them," she said to Anne. "They cringe and grovel like spaniels, and +flatter till 'tis like to make one sick. 'Tis always so with toadies; +they have not the wit to see that their flattery is an insolence, since +it supposes adulation so rare that one may be moved by it. The men with +empty pockets would marry me, forsooth, and the women be dragged into +company clinging to my petticoats. But they are learning. I do not +shrink from giving them sharp lessons." + +This she did without mercy, and in time cleared herself of hangers-on, so +that her banquets and assemblies were the most distinguished of the time, +and the men who paid their court to her were of such place and fortune +that their worship could but be disinterested. + +Among the earliest to wait upon her was his Grace of Osmonde, who found +her one day alone, save for the presence of Mistress Anne, whom she kept +often with her. When the lacquey announced him, Anne, who sat upon the +same seat with her, felt her slightly start, and looking up, saw in her +countenance a thing she had never beheld before, nor had indeed ever +dreamed of beholding. It was a strange, sweet crimson which flowed over +her face, and seemed to give a wondrous deepness to her lovely orbs. She +rose as a queen might have risen had a king come to her, but never had +there been such pulsing softness in her look before. 'Twas in some +curious fashion like the look of a girl; and, in sooth, she was but a +girl in years, but so different to all others of her age, and had lived +so singular a life, that no one ever thought of her but as a woman, or +would have deemed it aught but folly to credit her with any tender +emotion or blushing warmth girlhood might be allowed. + +His Grace was as courtly of bearing as he had ever been. He stayed not +long, and during his visit conversed but on such subjects as a kinsman +may graciously touch upon; but Anne noted in him a new look also, though +she could scarce have told what it might be. She thought that he looked +happier, and her fancy was that some burden had fallen from him. + +Before he went away he bent low and long over Clorinda's hand, pressing +his lips to it with a tenderness which strove not to conceal itself. And +the hand was not withdrawn, her ladyship standing in sweet yielding, the +tender crimson trembling on her cheek. Anne herself trembled, watching +her new, strange loveliness with a sense of fascination; she could scarce +withdraw her eyes, it seemed so as if the woman had been reborn. + +"Your Grace will come to us again," my lady said, in a soft voice. "We +are two lonely women," with her radiant compelling smile, "and need your +kindly countenancing." + +His eyes dwelt deep in hers as he answered, and there was a flush upon +his own cheek, man and warrior though he was. + +"If I might come as often as I would," he said, "I should be at your +door, perhaps, with too great frequency." + +"Nay, your Grace," she answered. "Come as often as _we_ would--and see +who wearies first. 'Twill not be ourselves." + +He kissed her hand again, and this time 'twas passionately, and when he +left her presence it was with a look of radiance on his noble face, and +with the bearing of a king new crowned. + +For a few moments' space she stood where he had parted from her, looking +as though listening to the sound of his step, as if she would not lose a +footfall; then she went to the window, and stood among the flowers there, +looking down into the street, and Anne saw that she watched his equipage. + +'Twas early summer, and the sunshine flooded her from head to foot; the +window and balcony were full of flowers--yellow jonquils and daffodils, +white narcissus, and all things fragrant of the spring. The scent of +them floated about her like an incense, and a straying zephyr blew great +puffs of their sweetness back into the room. Anne felt it all about her, +and remembered it until she was an aged woman. + +Clorinda's bosom rose high in an exultant, rapturous sigh. + +"'Tis the Spring that comes," she murmured breathlessly. "Never hath it +come to me before." + +Even as she said the words, at the very moment of her speaking, Fate--a +strange Fate indeed--brought to her yet another visitor. The door was +thrown open wide, and in he came, a lacquey crying aloud his name. 'Twas +Sir John Oxon. + +* * * * * + +Those of the World of Fashion who were wont to gossip, had bestowed upon +them a fruitful subject for discussion over their tea-tables, in the +future of the widowed Lady Dunstanwolde. All the men being enamoured of +her, 'twas not likely that she would long remain unmarried, her period of +mourning being over; and, accordingly, forthwith there was every day +chosen for her a new husband by those who concerned themselves in her +affairs, and they were many. One week 'twas a great general she was said +to smile on; again, a great beau and female conqueror, it being argued +that, having made her first marriage for rank and wealth, and being a +passionate and fantastic beauty, she would this time allow herself to be +ruled by her caprice, and wed for love; again, a certain marquis was +named, and after him a young earl renowned for both beauty and wealth; +but though each and all of those selected were known to have laid +themselves at her feet, none of them seemed to have met with the favour +they besought for. + +There were two men, however, who were more spoken of than all the rest, +and whose court awakened a more lively interest; indeed, 'twas an +interest which was lively enough at times to become almost a matter of +contention, for those who upheld the cause of the one man would not hear +of the success of the other, the claims of each being considered of such +different nature. These two men were the Duke of Osmonde and Sir John +Oxon. 'Twas the soberer and more dignified who were sure his Grace had +but to proffer his suit to gain it, and their sole wonder lay in that he +did not speak more quickly. + +"But being a man of such noble mind, it may be that he would leave her to +her freedom yet a few months, because, despite her stateliness, she is +but young, and 'twould be like his honourableness to wish that she should +see many men while she is free to choose, as she has never been before. +For these days she is not a poor beauty as she was when she took +Dunstanwolde." + +The less serious, or less worldly, especially the sentimental spinsters +and matrons and romantic young, who had heard and enjoyed the rumours of +Mistress Clorinda Wildairs' strange early days, were prone to build much +upon a certain story of that time. + +"Sir John Oxon was her first love," they said. "He went to her father's +house a beautiful young man in his earliest bloom, and she had never +encountered such an one before, having only known country dolts and her +father's friends. 'Twas said they loved each other, but were both +passionate and proud, and quarrelled bitterly. Sir John went to France +to strive to forget her in gay living; he even obeyed his mother and paid +court to another woman, and Mistress Clorinda, being of fierce +haughtiness, revenged herself by marrying Lord Dunstanwolde." + +"But she has never deigned to forgive him," 'twas also said. "She is too +haughty and of too high a temper to forgive easily that a man should seem +to desert her for another woman's favour. Even when 'twas whispered that +she favoured him, she was disdainful, and sometimes flouted him bitterly, +as was her way with all men. She was never gentle, and had always a +cutting wit. She will use him hardly before she relents; but if he sues +patiently enough with such grace as he uses with other women, love will +conquer her at last, for 'twas her first." + +She showed him no great favour, it was true; and yet it seemed she +granted him more privilege than she had done during her lord's life, for +he was persistent in his following her, and would come to her house +whether of her will or of his own. Sometimes he came there when the Duke +of Osmonde was with her--this happened more than once--and then her +ladyship's face, which was ever warmly beautiful when Osmonde was near, +would curiously change. It would grow pale and cold; but in her eyes +would burn a strange light which one man knew was as the light in the +eyes of a tigress lying chained, but crouching to leap. But it was not +Osmonde who felt this, he saw only that she changed colour, and having +heard the story of her girlhood, a little chill of doubt would fall upon +his noble heart. It was not doubt of her, but of himself, and fear that +his great passion made him blind; for he was the one man chivalrous +enough to remember how young she was, and to see the cruelty of the Fate +which had given her unmothered childhood into the hands of a coarse +rioter and debauchee, making her his plaything and his whim. And if in +her first hours of bloom she had been thrown with youthful manhood and +beauty, what more in the course of nature than that she should have +learned to love; and being separated from her young lover by their mutual +youthful faults of pride and passionateness of temper, what more natural +than, being free again, and he suing with all his soul, that her heart +should return to him, even though through a struggle with pride. In her +lord's lifetime he had not seen Oxon near her; and in those days when he +had so struggled with his own surging love, and striven to bear himself +nobly, he had kept away from her, knowing that his passion was too great +and strong for any man to always hold at bay and make no sign, because at +brief instants he trembled before the thought that in her eyes he had +seen that which would have sprung to answer the same self in him if she +had been a free woman. But now when, despite her coldness, which never +melted to John Oxon, she still turned pale and seemed to fall under a +restraint on his coming, a man of sufficient high dignity to be +splendidly modest where his own merit was concerned, might well feel that +for this there must be a reason, and it might be a grave one. + +So though he would not give up his suit until he was sure that 'twas +either useless or unfair, he did not press it as he would have done, but +saw his lady when he could, and watched with all the tenderness of +passion her lovely face and eyes. But one short town season passed +before he won his prize; but to poor Anne it seemed that in its passing +she lived years. + +Poor woman, as she had grown thin and large-eyed in those days gone by, +she grew so again. Time in passing had taught her so much that others +did not know; and as she served her sister, and waited on her wishes, she +saw that of which no other dreamed, and saw without daring to speak, or +show by any sign, her knowledge. + +The day when Lady Dunstanwolde had turned from standing among her +daffodils, and had found herself confronting the open door of her saloon, +and John Oxon passing through it, Mistress Anne had seen that in her face +and his which had given to her a shock of terror. In John Oxon's blue +eyes there had been a set fierce look, and in Clorinda's a blaze which +had been like a declaration of war; and these same looks she had seen +since that day, again and again. Gradually it had become her sister's +habit to take Anne with her into the world as she had not done before her +widowhood, and Anne knew whence this custom came. There were times when, +by use of her presence, she could avoid those she wished to thrust aside, +and Anne noted, with a cold sinking of the spirit, that the one she would +plan to elude most frequently was Sir John Oxon; and this was not done +easily. The young man's gay lightness of demeanour had changed. The few +years that had passed since he had come to pay his courts to the young +beauty in male attire, had brought experiences to him which had been +bitter enough. He had squandered his fortune, and failed to reinstate +himself by marriage; his dissipations had told upon him, and he had lost +his spirit and good-humour; his mocking wit had gained a bitterness; his +gallantry had no longer the gaiety of youth. And the woman he had loved +for an hour with youthful passion, and had dared to dream of casting +aside in boyish insolence, had risen like a phoenix, and soared high and +triumphant to the very sun itself. "He was ever base," Clorinda had +said. "As he was at first he is now," and in the saying there was truth. +If she had been helpless and heartbroken, and had pined for him, he would +have treated her as a victim, and disdained her humiliation and grief; +magnificent, powerful, rich, in fullest beauty, and disdaining himself, +she filled him with a mad passion of love which was strangely mixed with +hatred and cruelty. To see her surrounded by her worshippers, courted by +the Court itself, all eyes drawn towards her as she moved, all hearts +laid at her feet, was torture to him. In such cases as his and hers, it +was the woman who should sue for love's return, and watch the averted +face, longing for the moment when it would deign to turn and she could +catch the cold eye and plead piteously with her own. This he had seen; +this, men like himself, but older, had taught him with vicious art; but +here was a woman who had scorned him at the hour which should have been +the moment of his greatest powerfulness, who had mocked at and lashed him +in the face with the high derision of a creature above law, and who never +for one instant had bent her neck to the yoke which women must bear. She +had laughed it to scorn--and him--and all things--and gone on her way, +crowned with her scarlet roses, to wealth, and rank, and power, and +adulation; while he--the man, whose right it was to be transgressor--had +fallen upon hard fortune, and was losing step by step all she had won. In +his way he loved her madly--as he had loved her before, and as he would +have loved any woman who embodied triumph and beauty; and burning with +desire for both, and with jealous rage of all, he swore he would not be +outdone, befooled, cast aside, and trampled on. + +At the playhouse when she looked from her box, she saw him leaning +against some pillar or stationed in some noticeable spot, his bold blue +eyes fixed burningly upon her; at fashionable assemblies he made his way +to her side and stood near her, gazing, or dropping words into her ear; +at church he placed himself in some pew near by, that she and all the +world might behold him; when she left her coach and walked in the Mall he +joined her or walked behind. At such times in my lady's close-fringed +eyes there shone a steady gleam; but they were ever eyes that glowed, and +there were none who had ever come close enough to her to know her well, +and so there were none who read its meaning. Only Anne knew as no other +creature could, and looked on with secret terror and dismay. The world +but said that he was a man mad with love, and desperate at the knowledge +of the powerfulness of his rivals, could not live beyond sight of her. + +They did not hear the words that passed between them at times when he +stood near her in some crowd, and dropped, as 'twas thought, words of +burning prayer and love into her ear. 'Twas said that it was like her to +listen with unchanging face, and when she deigned reply, to answer +without turning towards him. But such words and replies it had more than +once been Anne's ill-fortune to be near enough to catch, and hearing them +she had shuddered. + +One night at a grand rout, the Duke of Osmonde but just having left the +reigning beauty's side, she heard the voice she hated close by her, +speaking. + +"You think you can disdain me to the end," it said. "Your ladyship is +_sure_ so?" + +She did not turn or answer, and there followed a low laugh. + +"You think a man will lie beneath your feet and be trodden upon without +speaking. You are too high and bold." + +She waved her painted fan, and gazed steadily before her at the crowd, +now and then bending her head in gracious greeting and smiling at some +passer-by. + +"If I could tell the story of the rose garden, and of what the sun-dial +saw, and what the moon shone on--" he said. + +He heard her draw her breath sharply through her teeth, he saw her white +bosom lift as if a wild beast leapt within it, and he laughed again. + +"His Grace of Osmonde returns," he said; and then marking, as he never +failed to do, bitterly against his will, the grace and majesty of this +rival, who was one of the greatest and bravest of England's gentlemen, +and knowing that she marked it too, his rage so mounted that it overcame +him. + +"Sometimes," he said, "methinks that I shall _kill_ you!" + +"Would you gain your end thereby?" she answered, in a voice as low and +deadly. + +"I would frustrate his--and yours." + +"Do it, then," she hissed back, "some day when you think I fear you." + +"'Twould be too easy," he answered. "You fear it too little. There are +bitterer things." + +She rose and met his Grace, who had approached her. Always to his +greatness and his noble heart she turned with that new feeling of +dependence which her whole life had never brought to her before. His +deep eyes, falling on her tenderly as she rose, were filled with +protecting concern. Involuntarily he hastened his steps. + +"Will your Grace take me to my coach?" she said. "I am not well. May +I--go?" as gently as a tender, appealing girl. + +And moved by this, as by her pallor, more than his man's words could have +told, he gave her his arm and drew her quickly and supportingly away. + +Mistress Anne did not sleep well that night, having much to distract her +mind and keep her awake, as was often in these days the case. When at +length she closed her eyes her slumber was fitful and broken by dreams, +and in the mid hour of the darkness she wakened with a start as if some +sound had aroused her. Perhaps there had been some sound, though all was +still when she opened her eyes; but in the chair by her bedside sat +Clorinda in her night-rail, her hands wrung hard together on her knee, +her black eyes staring under a brow knit into straight deep lines. + +"Sister!" cried Anne, starting up in bed. "Sister!" + +Clorinda slowly turned her head towards her, whereupon Anne saw that in +her face there was a look as if of horror which struggled with a grief, a +woe, too monstrous to be borne. + +"Lie down, Anne," she said. "Be not afraid--'tis only I," bitterly--"who +need fear?" + +Anne cowered among the pillows and hid her face in her thin hands. She +knew so well that this was true. + +"I never thought the time would come," her sister said, "when I should +seek you for protection. A thing has come upon me--perhaps I shall go +mad--to-night, alone in my room, I wanted to sit near a woman--'twas not +like me, was it?" + +Mistress Anne crept near the bed's edge, and stretching forth a hand, +touched hers, which were as cold as marble. + +"Stay with me, sister," she prayed. "Sister, do not go! What--what can +I say?" + +"Naught," was the steady answer. "There is naught to be said. You were +always a woman--I was never one--till now." + +She rose up from her chair and threw up her arms, pacing to and fro. + +"I am a desperate creature," she cried. "Why was I born?" + +She walked the room almost like a thing mad and caged. + +"Why was I thrown into the world?" striking her breast. "Why was I made +so--and not one to watch or care through those mad years? To be given a +body like this--and tossed to the wolves." + +She turned to Anne, her arms outstretched, and so stood white and strange +and beauteous as a statue, with drops like great pearls running down her +lovely cheeks, and she caught her breath sobbingly, like a child. + +"I was thrown to them," she wailed piteously, "and they harried me--and +left the marks of their great teeth--and of the scars I cannot rid +myself--and since it was my fate--pronounced from my first hour--why was +not this," clutching her breast, "left hard as 'twas at first? Not a +woman's--not a woman's, but a she-cub's. Ah! 'twas not just--not just +that it should be so!" + +Anne slipped from her bed and ran to her, falling upon her knees and +clinging to her, weeping bitterly. + +"Poor heart!" she cried. "Poor, dearest heart!" + +Her touch and words seemed to recall Clorinda to herself. She started as +if wakened from a dream, and drew her form up rigid. + +"I have gone mad," she said. "What is it I do?" She passed her hand +across her brow and laughed a little wild laugh. "Yes," she said; "this +it is to be a woman--to turn weak and run to other women--and weep and +talk. Yes, by these signs I _am_ a woman!" She stood with her clenched +hands pressed against her breast. "In any fair fight," she said, "I +could have struck back blow for blow--and mine would have been the +heaviest; but being changed into a woman, my arms are taken from me. He +who strikes, aims at my bared breast--and that he knows and triumphs in." + +She set her teeth together, and ground them, and the look, which was like +that of a chained and harried tigress, lit itself in her eyes. + +"But there is _none_ shall beat me," she said through these fierce shut +teeth. "Nay I there is _none_! Get up, Anne," bending to raise her. +"Get up, or I shall be kneeling too--and I must stand upon my feet." + +She made a motion as if she would have turned and gone from the room +without further explanation, but Anne still clung to her. She was afraid +of her again, but her piteous love was stronger than her fear. + +"Let me go with you," she cried. "Let me but go and lie in your closet +that I may be near, if you should call." + +Clorinda put her hands upon her shoulders, and stooping, kissed her, +which in all their lives she had done but once or twice. + +"God bless thee, poor Anne," she said. "I think thou wouldst lie on my +threshold and watch the whole night through, if I should need it; but I +have given way to womanish vapours too much--I must go and be alone. I +was driven by my thoughts to come and sit and look at thy good face--I +did not mean to wake thee. Go back to bed." + +She would be obeyed, and led Anne to her couch herself, making her lie +down, and drawing the coverlet about her; after which she stood upright +with a strange smile, laying her hands lightly about her own white +throat. + +"When I was a new-born thing and had a little throat and a weak breath," +she cried, "'twould have been an easy thing to end me. I have been told +I lay beneath my mother when they found her dead. If, when she felt her +breath leaving her, she had laid her hand upon my mouth and stopped mine, +I should not," with the little laugh again--"I should not lie awake to- +night." + +And then she went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--Containing the history of the breaking of the horse Devil, +and relates the returning of his Grace of Osmonde from France + + +There were in this strange nature, depths so awful and profound that it +was not to be sounded or to be judged as others were. But one thing +could have melted or caused the unconquerable spirit to bend, and this +was the overwhelming passion of love--not a slight, tender feeling, but a +great and powerful one, such as could be awakened but by a being of as +strong and deep a nature as itself, one who was in all things its peer. + +"I have been lonely--lonely all my life," my Lady Dunstanwolde had once +said to her sister, and she had indeed spoken a truth. + +Even in her childhood she had felt in some strange way she stood apart +from the world about her. Before she had been old enough to reason she +had been conscious that she was stronger and had greater power and +endurance than any human being about her. Her strength she used in these +days in wilful tyranny, and indeed it was so used for many a day when she +was older. The time had never been when an eye lighted on her with +indifference, or when she could not rule and punish as she willed. As an +infant she had browbeaten the women-servants and the stable-boys and +grooms; but because of her quick wit and clever tongue, and also because +no humour ever made her aught but a creature well worth looking at, they +had taken her bullying in good-humour and loved her in their coarse way. +She had tyrannised over her father and his companions, and they had +adored and boasted of her; but there had not been one among them whom she +could have turned to if a softer moment had come upon her and she had +felt the need of a friend, nor indeed one whom she did not regard +privately with contempt. + +A god or goddess forced upon earth and surrounded by mere human beings +would surely feel a desolateness beyond the power of common words to +express, and a human being endowed with powers and physical gifts so rare +as to be out of all keeping with those of its fellows of ordinary build +and mental stature must needs be lonely too. + +She had had no companion, because she had found none like herself, and +none with whom she could have aught in common. Anne she had pitied, +being struck by some sense of the unfairness of her lot as compared with +her own. John Oxon had moved her, bringing to her her first knowledge of +buoyant, ardent youth, and blooming strength and beauty; for Dunstanwolde +she had felt gratitude and affection; but than these there had been no +others who even distantly had touched her heart. + +The night she had given her promise to Dunstanwolde, and had made her +obeisance before his kinsman as she had met his deep and leonine eye, she +had known that 'twas the only man's eye before which her own would fall +and which held the power to rule her very soul. + +She did not think this as a romantic girl would have thought it; it was +revealed to her by a sudden tempestuous leap of her heart, and by a shock +like terror. Here was the man who was of her own build, whose thews and +sinews of mind and body was as powerful as her own--here was he who, had +she met him one short year before, would have revolutionised her world. + +In the days of her wifehood when she had read in his noble face something +of that which he endeavoured to command and which to no other was +apparent, the dignity of his self-restraint had but filled her with +tenderness more passionate and grateful. + +"Had he been a villain and a coward," was her thought, "he would have +made my life a bitter battle; but 'tis me he loves, not himself only, and +as I honour him so does he honour me." + +Now she beheld the same passion in his eyes, but no more held in leash: +his look met hers, hiding from her nothing of what his high soul burned +with; and she was free--free to answer when he spoke, and only feeling +one bitterness in her heart--if he had but come in time--God! why had he +not been sent in time? + +But, late or early, he had come; and what they had to give each other +should not be mocked at and lost. The night she had ended by going to +Anne's chamber, she had paced her room saying this again and again, all +the strength of her being rising in revolt. She had been then a caged +tigress of a verity; she had wrung her hands; she had held her palm hard +against her leaping heart; she had walked madly to and fro, battling in +thought with what seemed awful fate; she had flung herself upon her knees +and wept bitter scalding tears. + +"He is so noble," she had cried--"he is so noble--and I so worship his +nobleness--and I have been so base!" + +And in her suffering her woman's nerves had for a moment betrayed her. +Heretofore she had known no weakness of her sex, but the woman soul in +her so being moved, she had been broken and conquered for a space, and +had gone to Anne's chamber, scarcely knowing what refuge she so sought. +It had been a feminine act, and she had realised all it signified when +Anne sank weeping by her. Women who wept and prated together at midnight +in their chambers ended by telling their secrets. So it was that it fell +out that Anne saw not again the changed face to the sight of which she +had that night awakened. It seemed as if my lady from that time made +plans which should never for a moment leave her alone. The next day she +was busied arranging a brilliant rout, the next a rich banquet, the next +a great assembly; she drove in the Mall in her stateliest equipages; she +walked upon its promenade, surrounded by her crowd of courtiers, smiling +upon them, and answering them with shafts of graceful wit--the charm of +her gaiety had never been so remarked upon, her air never so enchanting. +At every notable gathering in the World of Fashion she was to be seen. +Being bidden to the Court, which was at Hampton, her brilliant beauty and +spirit so enlivened the royal dulness that 'twas said the Queen herself +was scarce resigned to part with her, and that the ladies and gentlemen +in waiting all suffered from the spleen when she withdrew. She bought at +this time the fiercest but most beautiful beast of a horse she had ever +mounted. The creature was superbly handsome, but apparently so +unconquerable and so savage that her grooms were afraid to approach it, +and indeed it could not be saddled and bitted unless she herself stood +near. Even the horse-dealer, rogue though he was, had sold it to her +with some approach to a qualm of conscience, having confessed to her that +it had killed two grooms, and been sentenced to be shot by its first +owner, and was still living only because its great beauty had led him to +hesitate for a few days. It was by chance that during these few days +Lady Dunstanwolde heard of it, and going to see it, desired and bought it +at once. + +"It is the very beast I want," she said, with a gleam in her eye. "It +will please me to teach it that there is one stronger than itself." + +She had much use for her loaded riding-whip; and indeed, not finding it +heavy enough, ordered one made which was heavier. When she rode the +beast in Hyde Park, her first battles with him were the town talk; and +there were those who bribed her footmen to inform them beforehand, when +my lady was to take out Devil, that they might know in time to be in the +Park to see her. Fops and hunting-men laid wagers as to whether her +ladyship would kill the horse or be killed by him, and followed her +training of the creature with an excitement and delight quite wild. + +"Well may the beast's name be Devil," said more than one looker-on; "for +he is not so much horse as demon. And when he plunges and rears and +shows his teeth, there is a look in his eye which flames like her own, +and 'tis as if a male and female demon fought together, for surely such a +woman never lived before. She will not let him conquer her, God knows; +and it would seem that he was swearing in horse fashion that she should +not conquer him." + +When he was first bought and brought home, Mistress Anne turned ashy at +the sight of him, and in her heart of hearts grieved bitterly that it had +so fallen out that his Grace of Osmonde had been called away from town by +high and important matters; for she knew full well, that if he had been +in the neighbourhood, he would have said some discreet and tender word of +warning to which her ladyship would have listened, though she would have +treated with disdain the caution of any other man or woman. When she +herself ventured to speak, Clorinda looked only stern. + +"I have ridden only ill-tempered beasts all my life, and that for the +mere pleasure of subduing them," she said. "I have no liking for a horse +like a bell-wether; and if this one should break my neck, I need battle +with neither men nor horses again, and I shall die at the high tide of +life and power; and those who think of me afterwards will only remember +that they loved me--that they loved me." + +But the horse did not kill her, nor she it. Day after day she stood by +while it was taken from its stall, many a time dealing with it herself, +because no groom dare approach; and then she would ride it forth, and in +Hyde Park force it to obey her; the wondrous strength of her will, her +wrist of steel, and the fierce, pitiless punishment she inflicted, +actually daunting the devilish creature's courage. She would ride from +the encounter, through two lines of people who had been watching her--and +some of them found themselves following after her, even to the Park +gate--almost awed as they looked at her, sitting erect and splendid on +the fretted, anguished beast, whose shining skin was covered with lather, +whose mouth tossed blood-flecked foam, and whose great eye was so +strangely like her own, but that hers glowed with the light of triumph, +and his burned with the agonised protest of the vanquished. At such +times there was somewhat of fear in the glances that followed her beauty, +which almost seemed to blaze--her colour was so rich, the curve of her +red mouth so imperial, the poise of her head, with its loosening coils of +velvet black hair, so high. + +"It is good for me that I do this," she said to Anne, with a short laugh, +one day. "I was growing too soft--and I have need now for all my power. +To fight with the demon in this beast, rouses all in me that I have held +in check since I became my poor lord's wife. That the creature should +have set his will against all others, and should resist me with such +strength and devilishness, rouses in me the passion of the days when I +cursed and raved and struck at those who angered me. 'Tis fury that +possesses me, and I could curse and shriek at him as I flog him, if +'twould be seemly. As it would not be so, I shut my teeth hard, and +shriek and curse within them, and none can hear." + +Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went forth +on Devil that they might stand near and behold her, there was one man +ever present, and 'twas Sir John Oxon. He would stand as near as might +be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his eye, and a look as if the +outcome of the fray had deadly meaning to him. He would gnaw his lip +until at times the blood started; his face would by turns flush scarlet +and turn deadly pale; he would move suddenly and restlessly, and break +forth under breath into oaths of exclamation. One day a man close by him +saw him suddenly lay his hand upon his sword, and having so done, still +keep it there, though 'twas plain he quickly remembered where he was. + +As for the horse's rider, my Lady Dunstanwolde, whose way it had been to +avoid this man and to thrust him from her path by whatsoever adroit means +she could use, on these occasions made no effort to evade him and his +glances; in sooth, he knew, though none other did so, that when she +fought with her horse she did it with a fierce joy in that he beheld her. +'Twas as though the battle was between themselves; and knowing this in +the depths of such soul as he possessed, there were times when the man +would have exulted to see the brute rise and fall upon her, crushing her +out of life, or dash her to the earth and set his hoof upon her dazzling +upturned face. Her scorn and deadly defiance of him, her beauty and +maddening charm, which seemed but to increase with every hour that flew +by, had roused his love to fury. Despite his youth, he was a villain, as +he had ever been; even in his first freshness there had been older +men--and hardened ones--who had wondered at the selfish mercilessness and +blackness of the heart that was but that of a boy. They had said among +themselves that at his years they had never known a creature who could be +so gaily a dastard, one who could plan with such light remorselessness, +and using all the gifts given him by Nature solely for his own ends, +would take so much and give so little. In truth, as time had gone on, +men who had been his companions, and had indeed small consciences to +boast of, had begun to draw off a little from him, and frequent his +company less. He chose to tell himself that this was because he had +squandered his fortune and was less good company, being pursued by +creditors and haunted by debts; but though there was somewhat in this, +perchance 'twas not the entire truth. + +"By Gad!" said one over his cups, "there are things even a rake-hell +fellow like me cannot do; but he does them, and seems not to know that +they are to his discredit." + +There had been a time when without this woman's beauty he might have +lived--indeed, he had left it of his own free vicious will; but in these +days, when his fortunes had changed and she represented all that he stood +most desperately in need of, her beauty drove him mad. In his haunting +of her, as he followed her from place to place, his passion grew day by +day, and all the more gained strength and fierceness because it was so +mixed with hate. He tossed upon his bed at night and cursed her; he +remembered the wild past, and the memory all but drove him to delirium. +He knew of what stern stuff she was made, and that even if her love had +died, she would have held to her compact like grim death, even while +loathing him. And he had cast all this aside in one mad moment of boyish +cupidity and folly; and now that she was so radiant and entrancing a +thing, and wealth, and splendour, and rank, and luxury lay in the hollow +of her hand, she fixed her beauteous devil's eyes upon him with a scorn +in their black depths which seemed to burn like fires of hell. + +The great brute who dashed, and plunged, and pranced beneath her seemed +to have sworn to conquer her as he had sworn himself; but let him plunge +and kick as he would, there was no quailing in her eye, she sat like a +creature who was superhuman, and her hand was iron, her wrist was steel. +She held him so that he could not do his worst without such pain as would +drive him mad; she lashed him, and rained on him such blows as almost +made him blind. Once at the very worst, Devil dancing near him, she +looked down from his back into John Oxon's face, and he cursed aloud, her +eye so told him his own story and hers. In those days their souls met in +such combat as it seemed must end in murder itself. + +"You will not conquer him," he said to her one morning, forcing himself +near enough to speak. + +"I will, unless he kills me," she answered, "and that methinks he will +find it hard to do." + +"He will kill you," he said. "I would, were I in his four shoes." + +"You would if you could," were her words; "but you could not with his bit +in your mouth and my hand on the snaffle. And if he killed me, still +'twould be he, not I, was beaten; since he could only kill what any +bloody villain could with any knife. He is a brute beast, and I am that +which was given dominion over such. Look on till I have done with him." + +And thus, with other beholders, though in a different mood from theirs, +he did, until a day when even the most sceptical saw that the brute came +to the fray with less of courage, as if there had at last come into his +brain the dawning of a fear of that which rid him, and all his madness +could not displace from its throne upon his back. + +"By God!" cried more than one of the bystanders, seeing this, despite the +animal's fury, "the beast gives way! He gives way! She has him!" And +John Oxon, shutting his teeth, cut short an oath and turned pale as +death. + +From that moment her victory was a thing assured. The duel of strength +became less desperate, and having once begun to learn his lesson, the +brute was made to learn it well. His bearing was a thing superb to +behold; once taught obedience, there would scarce be a horse like him in +the whole of England. And day by day this he learned from her, and being +mastered, was put through his paces, and led to answer to the rein, so +that he trotted, cantered, galloped, and leaped as a bird flies. Then as +the town had come to see him fight for freedom, it came to see him adorn +the victory of the being who had conquered him, and over their dishes of +tea in the afternoon beaux and beauties of fashion gossiped of the +interesting and exciting event; and there were vapourish ladies who vowed +they could not have beaten a brute so, and that surely my Lady +Dunstanwolde must have looked hot and blowzy while she did it, and have +had the air of a great rough man; and there were some pretty tiffs and +even quarrels when the men swore that never had she looked so magnificent +a beauty and so inflamed the hearts of all beholding her. + +On the first day after her ladyship's last battle with her horse, the one +which ended in such victory to her that she rode him home hard through +the streets without an outbreak, he white with lather, and marked with +stripes, but his large eye holding in its velvet a look which seemed +almost like a human thought--on that day after there occurred a thing +which gave the town new matter to talk of. + +His Grace of Osmonde had been in France, called there by business of the +State, and during his absence the gossip concerning the horse Devil had +taken the place of that which had before touched on himself. 'Twas not +announced that he was to return to England, and indeed there were those +who, speaking with authority, said that for two weeks at least his +affairs abroad would not be brought to a close; and yet on this morning, +as my Lady Dunstanwolde rode 'neath the trees, holding Devil well in +hand, and watching him with eagle keenness of eye, many looking on in +wait for the moment when the brute might break forth suddenly again, a +horseman was seen approaching at a pace so rapid that 'twas on the verge +of a gallop, and the first man who beheld him looked amazed and lifted +his hat, and the next, seeing him, spoke to another, who bowed with him, +and all along the line of loungers hats were removed, and people wore the +air of seeing a man unexpectedly, and hearing a name spoken in +exclamation by his side, Sir John Oxon looked round and beheld ride by my +lord Duke of Osmonde. The sun was shining brilliantly, and all the Park +was gay with bright warmth and greenness of turf and trees. Clorinda +felt the glow of the summer morning permeate her being. She kept her +watch upon her beast; but he was going well, and in her soul she knew +that he was beaten, and that her victory had been beheld by the one man +who knew that it meant to her that which it seemed to mean also to +himself. And filled with this thought and the joy of it, she rode +beneath the trees, and so was riding with splendid spirit when she heard +a horse behind her, and looked up as it drew near, and the rich crimson +swept over her in a sweet flood, so that it seemed to her she felt it +warm on her very shoulders, 'neath her habit, for 'twas Osmonde's self +who had followed and reached her, and uncovered, keeping pace by her +side. + +Ah, what a face he had, and how his eyes burned as they rested on her. It +was such a look she met, that for a moment she could not find speech, and +he himself spoke as a man who, through some deep emotion, has almost lost +his breath. + +"My Lady Dunstanwolde," he began; and then with a sudden passion, +"Clorinda, my beloved!" The time had come when he could not keep +silence, and with great leapings of her heart she knew. Yet not one word +said she, for she could not; but her beauty, glowing and quivering under +his eyes' great fire, answered enough. + +"Were it not that I fear for your sake the beast you ride," he said, "I +would lay my hand upon his bridle, that I might crush your hand in mine. +At post-haste I have come from France, hearing this thing--that you +endangered every day that which I love so madly. My God! beloved, cruel, +cruel woman--sure you must know!" + +She answered with a breathless wild surrender. "Yes, yes!" she gasped, +"I know." + +"And yet you braved this danger, knowing that you might leave me a +widowed man for life." + +"But," she said, with a smile whose melting radiance seemed akin to +tears--"but see how I have beaten him--and all is passed." + +"Yes, yes," he said, "as you have conquered all--as you have conquered +me--and did from the first hour. But God forbid that you should make me +suffer so again." + +"Your Grace," she said, faltering, "I--I will not!" + +"Forgive me for the tempest of my passion," he said. "'Twas not thus I +had thought to come to make my suit. 'Tis scarcely fitting that it +should be so; but I was almost mad when I first heard this rumour, +knowing my duty would not loose me to come to you at once--and knowing +you so well, that only if your heart had melted to the one who besought +you, you would give up." + +"I--give up," she answered; "I give up." + +"I worship you," he said; "I worship you." And their meeting eyes were +drowned in each other's tenderness. + +They galloped side by side, and the watchers looked on, exchanging words +and glances, seeing in her beauteous, glowing face, in his joyous one, +the final answer to the question they had so often asked each other. +'Twas his Grace of Osmonde who was the happy man, he and no other. That +was a thing plain indeed to be seen, for they were too high above the +common world to feel that they must play the paltry part of outward +trifling to deceive it; and as the sun pierces through clouds and is +stronger than they, so their love shone like the light of day itself +through poor conventions. They did not know the people gazed and +whispered, and if they had known it, the thing would have counted for +naught with them. + +"See!" said my lady, patting her Devil's neck--"see, he knows that you +have come, and frets no more." + +They rode homeward together, the great beauty and the great duke, and all +the town beheld; and after they had passed him where he stood, John Oxon +mounted his own horse and galloped away, white-lipped and with mad eyes. + +"Let me escort you home," the duke had said, "that I may kneel to you +there, and pour forth my heart as I have so dreamed of doing. To-morrow +I must go back to France, because I left my errand incomplete. I stole +from duty the time to come to you, and I must return as quickly as I +came." So he took her home; and as they entered the wide hall together, +side by side, the attendant lacqueys bowed to the ground in deep, +welcoming obeisance, knowing it was their future lord and master they +received. + +Together they went to her own sitting-room, called the Panelled Parlour, +a beautiful great room hung with rare pictures, warm with floods of the +bright summer sunshine, and perfumed with bowls of summer flowers; and as +the lacquey departed, bowing, and closed the door behind him, they turned +and were enfolded close in each other's arms, and stood so, with their +hearts beating as surely it seemed to them human hearts had never beat +before. + +"Oh! my dear love, my heavenly love!" he cried. "It has been so long--I +have lived in prison and in fetters--and it has been so long!" + +Even as my Lord Dunstanwolde had found cause to wonder at her gentle +ways, so was this man amazed at her great sweetness, now that he might +cross the threshold of her heart. She gave of herself as an empress +might give of her store of imperial jewels, with sumptuous lavishness, +knowing that the store could not fail. In truth, it seemed that it must +be a dream that she so stood before him in all her great, rich +loveliness, leaning against his heaving breast, her arms as tender as his +own, her regal head thrown backward that they might gaze into the depths +of each other's eyes. + +"From that first hour that I looked up at you," she said, "I knew you +were my lord--my lord! And a fierce pain stabbed my heart, knowing you +had come too late by but one hour; for had it not been that Dunstanwolde +had led me to you, I knew--ah! how well I knew--that our hearts would +have beaten together not as two hearts but as one." + +"As they do now," he cried. + +"As they do now," she answered--"as they do now!" + +"And from the moment that your rose fell at my feet and I raised it in my +hand," he said, "I knew I held some rapture which was my own. And when +you stood before me at Dunstanwolde's side and our eyes met, I could not +understand--nay, I could scarce believe that it had been taken from me." + +There, in her arms, among the flowers and in the sweetness of the sun, he +lived again the past, telling her of the days when, knowing his danger, +he had held himself aloof, declining to come to her lord's house with the +familiarity of a kinsman, because the pang of seeing her often was too +great to bear; and relating to her also the story of the hours when he +had watched her and she had not known his nearness or guessed his pain, +when she had passed in her equipage, not seeing him, or giving him but a +gracious smile. He had walked outside her window at midnight sometimes, +too, coming because he was a despairing man, and could not sleep, and +returning homeward, having found no rest, but only increase of anguish. +"Sometimes," he said, "I dared not look into your eyes, fearing my own +would betray me; but now I can gaze into your soul itself, for the +midnight is over--and joy cometh with the morning." + +As he had spoken, he had caressed softly with his hand her cheek and her +crown of hair, and such was his great gentleness that 'twas as if he +touched lovingly a child; for into her face there had come that look +which it would seem that in the arms of the man she loves every true +woman wears--a look which is somehow like a child's in its trusting, +sweet surrender and appeal, whatsoever may be her stateliness and the +splendour of her beauty. + +Yet as he touched her cheek so and her eyes so dwelt on him, suddenly her +head fell heavily upon his breast, hiding her face, even while her +unwreathing arms held more closely. + +"Oh! those mad days before!" she cried--"Oh! those mad, mad days before!" + +"Nay, they are long passed, sweet," he said, in his deep, noble voice, +thinking that she spoke of the wildness of her girlish years--"and all +our days of joy are yet to come." + +"Yes, yes," she cried, clinging closer, yet with shuddering, "they were +_before_--the joy--the joy is all to come." + + + + +CHAPTER XV--In which Sir John Oxon finds again a trophy he had lost + + +His Grace of Osmonde went back to France to complete his business, and +all the world knew that when he returned to England 'twould be to make +his preparations for his marriage with my Lady Dunstanwolde. It was a +marriage not long to be postponed, and her ladyship herself was known +already to be engaged with lacemen, linen-drapers, toyshop women, and +goldsmiths. Mercers awaited upon her at her house, accompanied by their +attendants, bearing burdens of brocades and silks, and splendid stuffs of +all sorts. Her chariot was to be seen standing before their shops, and +the interest in her purchases was so great that fashionable beauties +would contrive to visit the counters at the same hours as herself, so +that they might catch glimpses of what she chose. In her own great house +all was repressed excitement; her women were enraptured at being allowed +the mere handling and laying away of the glories of her wardrobe; the +lacqueys held themselves with greater state, knowing that they were soon +to be a duke's servants; her little black Nero strutted about, his turban +set upon his pate with a majestic cock, and disdained to enter into +battle with such pages of his own colour as wore only silver collars, he +feeling assured that his own would soon be of gold. + +The World of Fashion said when her ladyship's equipage drove by, that her +beauty was like that of the god of day at morning, and that 'twas plain +that no man or woman had ever beheld her as his Grace of Osmonde would. + +"She loves at last," a wit said. "Until the time that such a woman +loves, however great her splendour, she is as the sun behind a cloud." + +"And now this one hath come forth, and shines so that she warms us in +mere passing," said another. "What eyes, and what a mouth, with that +strange smile upon it. Whoever saw such before? and when she came to +town with my Lord Dunstanwolde, who, beholding her, would have believed +that she could wear such a look?" + +In sooth, there was that in her face and in her voice when she spoke +which almost made Anne weep, through its strange sweetness and radiance. +'Twas as if the flood of her joy had swept away all hardness and disdain. +Her eyes, which had seemed to mock at all they rested on, mocked no more, +but ever seemed to smile at some dear inward thought. + +One night when she went forth to a Court ball, being all attired in +brocade of white and silver, and glittering with the Dunstanwolde +diamonds, which starred her as with great sparkling dewdrops, and yet had +not the radiance of her eyes and smile, she was so purely wonderful a +vision that Anne, who had been watching her through all the time when she +had been under the hands of her tirewoman, and beholding her now so +dazzling and white a shining creature, fell upon her knees to kiss her +hand almost as one who worships. + +"Oh, sister," she said, "you look like a spirit. It is as if with the +earth you had naught to do--as if your eyes saw Heaven itself and Him who +reigns there." + +The lovely orbs of Clorinda shone more still like the great star of +morning. + +"Sister Anne," she said, laying her hand on her white breast, "at times I +think that I must almost be a spirit, I feel such heavenly joy. It is as +if He whom you believe in, and who can forgive and wipe out sins, has +forgiven me, and has granted it to me, that I may begin my poor life +again. Ah! I will make it better; I will try to make it as near an +angel's life as a woman can; and I will do no wrong, but only good; and I +will believe, and pray every day upon my knees--and all my prayers will +be that I may so live that my dear lord--my Gerald--could forgive me all +that I have ever done--and seeing my soul, would know me worthy of him. +Oh! we are strange things, we human creatures, Anne," with a tremulous +smile; "we do not believe until we want a thing, and feel that we shall +die if 'tis not granted to us; and then we kneel and kneel and believe, +because we _must_ have somewhat to ask help from." + +"But all help has been given to you," poor tender Anne said, kissing her +hand again; "and I will pray, I will pray--" + +"Ay, pray, Anne, pray with all thy soul," Clorinda answered; "I need thy +praying--and thou didst believe always, and have asked so little that has +been given thee." + +"Thou wast given me, sister," said Anne. "Thou hast given me a home and +kindness such as I never dared to hope; thou hast been like a great star +to me--I have had none other, and I thank Heaven on my knees each night +for the brightness my star has shed on me." + +"Poor Anne, dear Anne!" Clorinda said, laying her arms about her and +kissing her. "Pray for thy star, good, tender Anne, that its light may +not be quenched." Then with a sudden movement her hand was pressed upon +her bosom again. "Ah, Anne," she cried, and in the music of her voice, +agony itself was ringing--"Anne, there is but one thing on this earth God +rules over--but one thing that belongs--_belongs_ to me; and 'tis Gerald +Mertoun--and he is mine and _shall_ not be taken from me, for he is a +part of me, and I a part of him!" + +"He will not be," said Anne--"he will not." + +"He cannot," Clorinda answered--"he shall not! 'Twould not be human." + +She drew a long breath and was calm again. + +"Did it reach your ears," she said, reclasping a band of jewels on her +arm, "that John Oxon had been offered a place in a foreign Court, and +that 'twas said he would soon leave England?" + +"I heard some rumour of it," Anne answered, her emotion getting the +better of her usual discreet speech. "God grant it may be true!" + +"Ay!" said Clorinda, "would God that he were gone!" + +But that he was not, for when she entered the assembly that night he was +standing near the door as though he lay in waiting for her, and his eyes +met hers with a leaping gleam, which was a thing of such exultation that +to encounter it was like having a knife thrust deep into her side and +through and through it, for she knew full well that he could not wear +such a look unless he had some strength of which she knew not. + +This gleam was in his eyes each time she found herself drawn to them, and +it seemed as though she could look nowhere without encountering his gaze. +He followed her from room to room, placing himself where she could not +lift her eyes without beholding him; when she walked a minuet with a +royal duke, he stood and watched her with such a look in his face as drew +all eyes towards him. + +"'Tis as if he threatens her," one said. "He has gone mad with +disappointed love." + +But 'twas not love that was in his look, but the madness of long-thwarted +passion mixed with hate and mockery; and this she saw, and girded her +soul with all its strength, knowing that she had a fiercer beast to deal +with, and a more vicious and dangerous one, than her horse Devil. That +he kept at first at a distance from her, and but looked on with this +secret exultant glow in his bad, beauteous eyes, told her that at last he +felt he held some power in his hands, against which all her defiance +would be as naught. Till this hour, though she had suffered, and when +alone had writhed in agony of grief and bitter shame, in his presence she +had never flinched. Her strength she knew was greater than his; but his +baseness was his weapon, and the depths of that baseness she knew she had +never reached. + +At midnight, having just made obeisance before Royalty retiring, she felt +that at length he had drawn near and was standing at her side. + +"To-night," he said, in the low undertone it was his way to keep for such +occasions, knowing how he could pierce her ear--"to-night you are Juno's +self--a very Queen of Heaven!" + +She made no answer. + +"And I have stood and watched you moving among all lesser goddesses as +the moon sails among the stars, and I have smiled in thinking of what +these lesser deities would say if they had known what I bear in my breast +to-night." + +She did not even make a movement--in truth, she felt that at his next +words she might change to stone. + +"I have found it," he said--"I have it here--the lost treasure--the tress +of hair like a raven's wing and six feet long. Is there another woman in +England who could give a man a lock like it?" + +She felt then that she had, in sooth, changed to stone; her heart hung +without moving in her breast; her eyes felt great and hollow and staring +as she lifted them to him. + +"I knew not," she said slowly, and with bated breath, for the awfulness +of the moment had even made her body weak as she had never known it feel +before--"I knew not truly that hell made things like you." + +Whereupon he made a movement forward, and the crowd about surged nearer +with hasty exclamations, for the strange weakness of her body had +overpowered her in a way mysterious to her, and she had changed to +marble, growing too heavy of weight for her sinking limbs. And those in +the surrounding groups saw a marvellous thing--the same being that my +Lady Dunstanwolde swayed as she turned, and falling, lay stretched, as if +dead, in her white and silver and flashing jewels at the startled +beholders' feet. + +* * * * * + +She wore no radiant look when she went home that night. She would go +home alone and unescorted, excepting by her lacqueys, refusing all offers +of companionship when once placed in her equipage. There were, of +course, gentlemen who would not be denied leading her to her coach; John +Oxon was among them, and at the last pressed close, with a manner of +great ceremony, speaking a final word. + +"'Tis useless, your ladyship," he murmured, as he made his obeisance +gallantly, and though the words were uttered in his lowest tone and with +great softness, they reached her ear as he intended that they should. "To- +morrow morning I shall wait upon you." + +Anne had forborne going to bed, and waited for her return, longing to see +her spirit's face again before she slept; for this poor tender creature, +being denied all woman's loves and joys by Fate, who had made her as she +was, so lived in her sister's beauty and triumphs that 'twas as if in +some far-off way she shared them, and herself experienced through them +the joy of being a woman transcendently beautiful and transcendently +beloved. To-night she had spent her waiting hours in her closet and upon +her knees, praying with all humble adoration of the Being she approached. +She was wont to pray long and fervently each day, thanking Heaven for the +smallest things and the most common, and imploring continuance of the +mercy which bestowed them upon her poor unworthiness. For her sister her +prayers were offered up night and morning, and ofttimes in hours between, +and to-night she prayed not for herself at all, but for Clorinda and for +his Grace of Osmonde, that their love might be crowned with happiness, +and that no shadow might intervene to cloud its brightness, and the +tender rapture in her sister's softened look, which was to her a thing so +wonderful that she thought of it with reverence as a holy thing. + +Her prayers being at length ended, she had risen from her knees and sat +down, taking a sacred book to read, a book of sermons such as 'twas her +simple habit to pore over with entire respect and child-like faith, and +being in the midst of her favourite homily, she heard the chariot's +returning wheels, and left her chair, surprised, because she had not yet +begun to expect the sound. + +"'Tis my sister," she said, with a soft, sentimental smile. "Osmonde not +being among the guests, she hath no pleasure in mingling with them." + +She went below to the room her ladyship usually went to first on her +return at night from any gathering, and there she found her sitting as +though she had dropped there in the corner of a great divan, her hands +hanging clasped before her on her knee, her head hanging forward on her +fallen chest, her large eyes staring into space. + +"Clorinda! Clorinda!" Anne cried, running to her and kneeling at her +side. "Clorinda! God have mercy! What is't?" + +Never before had her face worn such a look--'twas colourless, and so +drawn and fallen in that 'twas indeed almost as if all her great beauty +was gone; but the thing most awful to poor Anne was that all the new +softness seemed as if it had been stamped out, and the fierce hardness +had come back and was engraven in its place, mingled with a horrible +despair. + +"An hour ago," she said, "I swooned. That is why I look thus. 'Tis yet +another sign that I am a woman--a woman!" + +"You are ill--you swooned?" cried Anne. "I must send for your physician. +Have you not ordered that he be sent for yourself? If Osmonde were here, +how perturbed he would be!" + +"Osmonde!" said my lady. "Gerald! Is there a Gerald, Anne?" + +"Sister!" cried Anne, affrighted by her strange look--"oh, sister!" + +"I have seen heaven," Clorinda said; "I have stood on the threshold and +seen through the part-opened gate--and then have been dragged back to +hell." + +Anne clung to her, gazing upwards at her eyes, in sheer despair. + +"But back to hell I will not go," she went on saying. "Had I not seen +Heaven, they might perhaps have dragged me; but now I will not go--I will +not, that I swear! There is a thing which cannot be endured. Bear it no +woman should. Even I, who was not born a woman, but a wolf's she-cub, I +cannot. 'Twas not I, 'twas Fate," she said--"'twas not I, 'twas +Fate--'twas the great wheel we are bound to, which goes round and round +that we may be broken on it. 'Twas not I who bound myself there; and I +will not be broken so." + +She said the words through her clenched teeth, and with all the mad +passion of her most lawless years; even at Anne she looked almost in the +old ungentle fashion, as though half scorning all weaker than herself, +and having small patience with them. + +"There will be a way," she said--"there will be a way. I shall not swoon +again." + +She left her divan and stood upright, the colour having come back to her +face; but the look Anne worshipped not having returned with it, 'twas as +though Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had been born again. + +"To-morrow morning I go forth on Devil," she said; "and I shall be abroad +if any visitors come." + +What passed in her chamber that night no human being knew. Anne, who +left her own apartment and crept into a chamber near hers to lie and +watch, knew that she paced to and fro, but heard no other sound, and +dared not intrude upon her. + +When she came forth in the morning she wore the high look she had been +wont to wear in the years gone by, when she ruled in her father's house, +and rode to the hunt with a following of gay middle-aged and elderly +rioters. Her eye was brilliant, and her colour matched it. She held her +head with the old dauntless carriage, and there was that in her voice +before which her women quaked, and her lacqueys hurried to do her +bidding. + +Devil himself felt this same thing in the touch of her hand upon his +bridle when she mounted him at the door, and seemed to glance askance at +her sideways. + +She took no servant with her, and did not ride to the Park, but to the +country. Once on the highroad, she rode fast and hard, only galloping +straight before her as the way led, and having no intention. Where she +was going she knew not; but why she rode on horseback she knew full well, +it being because the wild, almost fierce motion was in keeping with the +tempest in her soul. Thoughts rushed through her brain even as she +rushed through the air on Devil's back, and each leaping after the other, +seemed to tear more madly. + +"What shall I do?" she was saying to herself. "What thing is there for +me to do? I am trapped like a hunted beast, and there is no way forth." + +The blood went like a torrent through her veins, so that she seemed to +hear it roaring in her ears; her heart thundered in her side, or 'twas so +she thought of it as it bounded, while she recalled the past and looked +upon the present. + +"What else could have been?" she groaned. "Naught else--naught else. +'Twas a trick--a trick of Fate to ruin me for my punishment." + +When she had gone forth it had been with no hope in her breast that her +wit might devise a way to free herself from the thing which so beset her, +for she had no weak fancies that there dwelt in this base soul any germ +of honour which might lead it to relenting. As she had sat in her dark +room at night, crouched upon the floor, and clenching her hands, as the +mad thoughts went whirling through her brain, she had stared her Fate in +the face and known all its awfulness. Before her lay the rapture of a +great, sweet, honourable passion, a high and noble life lived in such +bliss as rarely fell to lot of woman--on this one man she knew that she +could lavish all the splendour of her nature, and make his life a heaven, +as hers would be. Behind her lay the mad, uncared-for years, and one +black memory blighting all to come, though 'twould have been but a black +memory with no power to blight if the heaven of love had not so opened to +her and with its light cast all else into shadow. + +"If 'twere not love," she cried--"if 'twere but ambition, I could defy it +to the last; but 'tis love--love--love, and it will kill me to forego +it." + +Even as she moaned the words she heard hoof beats near her, and a +horseman leaped the hedge and was at her side. She set her teeth, and +turning, stared into John Oxon's face. + +"Did you think I would not follow you?" he asked. + +"No," she answered. + +"I have followed you at a distance hitherto," he said; "now I shall +follow close." + +She did not speak, but galloped on. + +"Think you you can outride me?" he said grimly, quickening his steed's +pace. "I go with your ladyship to your own house. For fear of scandal +you have not openly rebuffed me previous to this time; for a like reason +you will not order your lacqueys to shut your door when I enter it with +you." + +My Lady Dunstanwolde turned to gaze at him again. The sun shone on his +bright falling locks and his blue eyes as she had seen it shine in days +which seemed so strangely long passed by, though they were not five years +agone. + +"'Tis strange," she said, with a measure of wonder, "to live and be so +black a devil." + +"Bah! my lady," he said, "these are fine words--and fine words do not +hold between us. Let us leave them. I would escort you home, and speak +to you in private." There was that in his mocking that was madness to +her, and made her sick and dizzy with the boiling of the blood which +surged to her brain. The fury of passion which had been a terror to all +about her when she had been a child was upon her once more, and though +she had thought herself freed from its dominion, she knew it again and +all it meant. She felt the thundering beat in her side, the hot flood +leaping to her cheek, the flame burning her eyes themselves as if fire +was within them. Had he been other than he was, her face itself would +have been a warning. But he pressed her hard. As he would have slunk +away a beaten cur if she had held the victory in her hands, so feeling +that the power was his, he exulted over the despairing frenzy which was +in her look. + +"I pay back old scores," he said. "There are many to pay. When you +crowned yourself with roses and set your foot upon my face, your ladyship +thought not of this! When you gave yourself to Dunstanwolde and spat at +me, you did not dream that there could come a time when I might goad as +you did." + +She struck Devil with her whip, who leaped forward; but Sir John followed +hard behind her. He had a swift horse too, and urged him fiercely, so +that between these two there was a race as if for life or death. The +beasts bounded forward, spurning the earth beneath their feet. My lady's +face was set, her eyes were burning flame, her breath came short and +pantingly between her teeth. Oxon's fair face was white with passion; he +panted also, but strained every nerve to keep at her side, and kept +there. + +"Keep back! I warn thee!" she cried once, almost gasping. + +"Keep back!" he answered, blind with rage. "I will follow thee to hell!" + +And in this wise they galloped over the white road until the hedges +disappeared and they were in the streets, and people turned to look at +them, and even stood and stared. Then she drew rein a little and went +slower, knowing with shuddering agony that the trap was closing about +her. + +"What is it that you would say to me?" she asked him breathlessly. + +"That which I would say within four walls that you may hear it all," he +answered. "This time 'tis not idle threatening. I have a thing to show +you." + +Through the streets they went, and as her horse's hoofs beat the +pavement, and the passers-by, looking towards her, gazed curiously at so +fine a lady on so splendid a brute, she lifted her eyes to the houses, +the booths, the faces, and the sky, with a strange fancy that she looked +about her as a man looks who, doomed to death, is being drawn in his cart +to Tyburn tree. For 'twas to death she went, nor to naught else could +she compare it, and she was so young and strong, and full of love and +life, and there should have been such bliss and peace before her but for +one madness of her all-unknowing days. And this beside her--this man +with the fair face and looks and beauteous devil's eyes, was her hangman, +and carried his rope with him, and soon would fit it close about her +neck. + +When they rode through the part of the town where abode the World of +Fashion, those who saw them knew them, and marvelled that the two should +be together. + +"But perhaps his love has made him sue for pardon that he has so borne +himself," some said, "and she has chosen to be gracious to him, since she +is gracious in these days to all." + +When they reached her house he dismounted with her, wearing an outward +air of courtesy; but his eye mocked her, as she knew. His horse was in a +lather of sweat, and he spoke to a servant. + +"Take my beast home," he said. "He is too hot to stand, and I shall not +soon be ready." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--Dealing with that which was done in the Panelled Parlour + + +He followed her to the Panelled Parlour, the one to which she had taken +Osmonde on the day of their bliss, the one in which in the afternoon she +received those who came to pay court to her over a dish of tea. In the +mornings none entered it but herself or some invited guest. 'Twas not +the room she would have chosen for him; but when he said to her, "'Twere +best your ladyship took me to some private place," she had known there +was no other so safe. + +When the door was closed behind them, and they stood face to face, they +were a strange pair to behold--she with mad defiance battling with mad +despair in her face; he with the mocking which every woman who had ever +trusted him or loved him had lived to see in his face when all was lost. +Few men there lived who were as vile as he, his power of villainy lying +in that he knew not the meaning of man's shame or honour. + +"Now," she said, "tell me the worst." + +"'Tis not so bad," he answered, "that a man should claim his own, and +swear that no other man shall take it from him. That I have sworn, and +that I will hold to." + +"Your own!" she said--"your own you call it--villain!" + +"My own, since I can keep it," quoth he. "Before you were my Lord of +Dunstanwolde's you were mine--of your own free will." + +"Nay, nay," she cried. "God! through some madness I knew not the +awfulness of--because I was so young and had known naught but evil--and +you were so base and wise." + +"Was your ladyship an innocent?" he answered. "It seemed not so to me." + +"An innocent of all good," she cried--"of all things good on earth--of +all that I know now, having seen manhood and honour." + +"His Grace of Osmonde has not been told this," he said; "and I should +make it all plain to him." + +"What do you ask, devil?" she broke forth. "What is't you ask?" + +"That you shall not be the Duchess of Osmonde," he said, drawing near to +her; "that you shall be the wife of Sir John Oxon, as you once called +yourself for a brief space, though no priest had mumbled over us--" + +"Who was't divorced us?" she said, gasping; "for I was an honest thing, +though I knew no other virtue. Who was't divorced us?" + +"I confess," he answered, bowing, "that 'twas I--for the time being. I +was young, and perhaps fickle--" + +"And you left me," she cried, "and I found that you had come but for a +bet--and since I so bore myself that you could not boast, and since I was +not a rich woman whose fortune would be of use to you, you followed +another and left me--me!" + +"As his Grace of Osmonde will when I tell him my story," he answered. "He +is not one to brook that such things can be told of the mother of his +heirs." + +She would have shrieked aloud but that she clutched her throat in time. + +"Tell him!" she cried, "tell him, and see if he will hear you. Your word +against mine!" + +"Think you I do not know that full well," he answered, and he brought +forth a little package folded in silk. "Why have I done naught but +threaten till this time? If I went to him without proof, he would run me +through with his sword as I were a mad dog. But is there another woman +in England from whose head her lover could ravish a lock as long and +black as this?" + +He unfolded the silk, and let other silk unfold itself, a great and thick +ring of raven hair which uncoiled its serpent length, and though he held +it high, was long enough after surging from his hand to lie upon the +floor. + +"Merciful God!" she cried, and shuddering, hid her face. + +"'Twas a bet, I own," he said; "I heard too much of the mad beauty and +her disdain of men not to be fired by a desire to prove to her and +others, that she was but a woman after all, and so was to be won. I took +an oath that I would come back some day with a trophy--and this I cut +when you knew not that I did it." + +She clutched her throat again to keep from shrieking in her--impotent +horror. + +"Devil, craven, and loathsome--and he knows not what he is!" she gasped. +"He is a mad thing who knows not that all his thoughts are of hell." + +'Twas, in sooth, a strange and monstrous thing to see him so unwavering +and bold, flinching before no ignominy, shrinking not to speak openly the +thing before the mere accusation of which other men's blood would have +boiled. + +"When I bore it away with me," he said, "I lived wildly for a space, and +in those days put it in a place of safety, and when I was sober again I +had forgot where. Yesterday, by a strange chance, I came upon it. Think +you it can be mistaken for any other woman's hair?" + +At this she held up her hand. + +"Wait," she said. "You will go to Osmonde, you will tell him this, you +will--" + +"I will tell him all the story of the rose garden and of the sun-dial, +and the beauty who had wit enough to scorn a man in public that she might +more safely hold tryst with him alone. She had great wit and cunning for +a beauty of sixteen. 'Twould be well for her lord to have keen eyes when +she is twenty." + +He should have seen the warning in her eyes, for there was warning enough +in their flaming depths. + +"All that you can say I know," she said--"all that you can say! And I +love him. There is no other man on earth. Were he a beggar, I would +tramp the highroad by his side and go hungered with him. He is my lord, +and I his mate--his mate!" + +"That you will not be," he answered, made devilish by her words. "He is +a high and noble gentleman, and wants no man's cast-off plaything for his +wife." + +Her breast leaped up and down in her panting as she pressed her hand upon +it; her breath came in sharp puffs through her nostrils. + +"And once," she breathed--"and once--I _loved_ thee--cur!" + +He was mad with exultant villainy and passion, and he broke into a laugh. + +"Loved me!" he said. "Thou! As thou lovedst me--and as thou lovest +him--so will Moll Easy love any man--for a crown." + +Her whip lay upon the table, she caught and whirled it in the air. She +was blind with the surging of her blood, and saw not how she caught or +held it, or what she did--only that she struck! + +And 'twas his temple that the loaded weapon met, and 'twas wielded by a +wrist whose sinews were of steel, and even as it struck he gasped, +casting up his hands, and thereupon fell, and lay stretched at her feet! + +But the awful tempest which swept over her had her so under its dominion +that she was like a branch whirled on the wings of the storm. She scarce +noted that he fell, or noting it, gave it not one thought as she dashed +from one end of the apartment to the other with the fierce striding of a +mad woman. + +"Devil!" she cried, "and cur! and for thee I blasted all the years to +come! To a beast so base I gave all that an empress' self could give--all +life--all love--for ever. And he comes back--shameless--to barter like a +cheating huckster, because his trade goes ill, and I--I could stock his +counters once again." + +She strode towards him, raving. + +"Think you I do not know, woman's bully and poltroon, that you plot to +sell yourself, because your day has come, and no woman will bid for such +an outcast, saving one that you may threaten. Rise, vermin--rise, lest I +kill thee!" + +In her blind madness she lashed him once across the face again. And he +stirred not--and something in the resistless feeling of the flesh beneath +the whip, and in the quiet of his lying, caused her to pause and stand +panting and staring at the thing which lay before her. For it was a +Thing, and as she stood staring, with wild heaving breast, this she saw. +'Twas but a thing--a thing lying inert, its fair locks outspread, its +eyes rolled upward till the blue was almost lost; a purple indentation on +the right temple from which there oozed a tiny thread of blood. + +* * * * * + +"There will be a way," she had said, and yet in her most mad despair, of +this way she had never thought; though strange it had been, considering +her lawless past, that she had not--never of this way--never! +Notwithstanding which, in one frenzied moment in which she had known +naught but her delirium, her loaded whip had found it for her--the way! + +And yet it being so found, and she stood staring, seeing what she had +done--seeing what had befallen--'twas as if the blow had been struck not +at her own temple but at her heart--a great and heavy shock, which left +her bloodless, and choked, and gasping. + +"What! what!" she panted. "Nay! nay! nay!" and her eyes grew wide and +wild. + +She sank upon her knees, so shuddering that her teeth began to chatter. +She pushed him and shook him by the shoulder. + +"Stir!" she cried in a loud whisper. "Move thee! Why dost thou lie so? +Stir!" + +Yet he stirred not, but lay inert, only with his lips drawn back, showing +his white teeth a little, as if her horrid agony made him begin to laugh. +Shuddering, she drew slowly nearer, her eyes more awful than his own. Her +hand crept shaking to his wrist and clutched it. There was naught +astir--naught! It stole to his breast, and baring it, pressed close. +That was still and moveless as his pulse; for life was ended, and a +hundred mouldering years would not bring more of death. + +"I have _killed_ thee," she breathed. "I have _killed_ thee--though I +meant it not--even hell itself doth know. Thou art a dead man--and this +is the worst of all!" + +His hand fell heavily from hers, and she still knelt staring, such a look +coming into her face as throughout her life had never been there +before--for 'twas the look of a creature who, being tortured, the worst +at last being reached, begins to smile at Fate. + +"I have killed him!" she said, in a low, awful voice; "and he lies +here--and outside people walk, and know not. But _he_ knows--and I--and +as he lies methinks he smiles--knowing what he has done!" + +She crouched even lower still, the closer to behold him, and indeed it +seemed his still face sneered as if defying her now to rid herself of +him! 'Twas as though he lay there mockingly content, saying, "Now that I +lie here, 'tis for _you_--for _you_ to move me." + +She rose and stood up rigid, and all the muscles of her limbs were drawn +as though she were a creature stretched upon a rack; for the horror of +this which had befallen her seemed to fill the place about her, and leave +her no air to breathe nor light to see. + +"Now!" she cried, "if I would give way--and go mad, as I could but do, +for there is naught else left--if I would but give way, that which is +I--and has lived but a poor score of years--would be done with for all +time. All whirls before me. 'Twas I who struck the blow--and I am a +woman--and I could go raving--and cry out and call them in, and point to +him, and tell them how 'twas done--all!--all!" + +She choked, and clutched her bosom, holding its heaving down so fiercely +that her nails bruised it through her habit's cloth; for she felt that +she had begun to rave already, and that the waves of such a tempest were +arising as, if not quelled at their first swell, would sweep her from her +feet and engulf her for ever. + +"That--that!" she gasped--"nay--that I swear I will not do! There was +always One who hated me--and doomed and hunted me from the hour I lay +'neath my dead mother's corpse, a new-born thing. I know not whom it +was--or why--or how--but 'twas so! I was made evil, and cast helpless +amid evil fates, and having done the things that were ordained, and there +was no escape from, I was shown noble manhood and high honour, and taught +to worship, as I worship now. An angel might so love and be made higher. +And at the gate of heaven a devil grins at me and plucks me back, and +taunts and mires me, and I fall--on _this_!" + +She stretched forth her arms in a great gesture, wherein it seemed that +surely she defied earth and heaven. + +"No hope--no mercy--naught but doom and hell," she cried, "unless the +thing that is tortured be the stronger. Now--unless Fate bray me +small--the stronger I will be!" + +She looked down at the thing before her. How its stone face sneered, and +even in its sneering seemed to disregard her. She knelt by it again, her +blood surging through her body, which had been cold, speaking as if she +would force her voice to pierce its deadened ear. + +"Ay, mock!" she said, setting her teeth, "thinking that I am +conquered--yet am I not! 'Twas an honest blow struck by a creature +goaded past all thought! Ay, mock--and yet, but for one man's sake, +would I call in those outside and stand before them, crying: 'Here is a +villain whom I struck in madness--and he lies dead! I ask not mercy, but +only justice.'" + +She crouched still nearer, her breath and words coming hard and quick. +'Twas indeed as if she spoke to a living man who heard--as if she +answered what he had said. + +"There would be men in England who would give it me," she raved, +whispering. "That would there, I swear! But there would be dullards and +dastards who would not. He would give it--he! Ay, mock as thou wilt! +But between his high honour and love and me thy carrion _shall_ not +come!" + +By her great divan the dead man had fallen, and so near to it he lay that +one arm was hidden by the draperies; and at this moment this she +saw--before having seemed to see nothing but the death in his face. A +thought came to her like a flame lit on a sudden, and springing high the +instant the match struck the fuel it leaped from. It was a thought so +daring and so strange that even she gasped once, being appalled, and her +hands, stealing to her brow, clutched at the hair that grew there, +feeling it seem to rise and stand erect. + +"Is it madness to so dare?" she said hoarsely, and for an instant, +shuddering, hid her eyes, but then uncovered and showed them burning. +"Nay! not as I will dare it," she said, "for it will make me steel. You +fell well," she said to the stone-faced thing, "and as you lie there, +seem to tell me what to do, in your own despite. You would not have so +helped me had you known. Now 'tis 'twixt Fate and I--a human thing--who +is but a hunted woman." + +She put her strong hand forth and thrust him--he was already +stiffening--backward from the shoulder, there being no shrinking on her +face as she felt his flesh yield beneath her touch, for she had passed +the barrier lying between that which is mere life and that which is +pitiless hell, and could feel naught that was human. A poor wild beast +at bay, pressed on all sides by dogs, by huntsmen, by resistless weapons, +by Nature's pitiless self--glaring with bloodshot eyes, panting, with +fangs bared in the savagery of its unfriended agony--might feel thus. +'Tis but a hunted beast; but 'tis alone, and faces so the terror and +anguish of death. + +The thing gazing with its set sneer, and moving but stiffly, she put +forth another hand upon its side and thrust it farther backward until it +lay stretched beneath the great broad seat, its glazed and open eyes +seeming to stare upward blankly at the low roof of its strange prison; +she thrust it farther backward still, and letting the draperies fall, +steadily and with care so rearranged them that all was safe and hid from +sight. + +"Until to-night," she said, "you will lie well there. And then--and +then--" + +She picked up the long silken lock of hair which lay like a serpent at +her feet, and threw it into the fire, watching it burn, as all hair +burns, with slow hissing, and she watched it till 'twas gone. + +Then she stood with her hands pressed upon her eyeballs and her brow, her +thoughts moving in great leaps. Although it reeled, the brain which had +worked for her ever, worked clear and strong, setting before her what was +impending, arguing her case, showing her where dangers would arise, how +she must provide against them, what she must defend and set at defiance. +The power of will with which she had been endowed at birth, and which had +but grown stronger by its exercise, was indeed to be compared to some +great engine whose lever 'tis not nature should be placed in human hands; +but on that lever her hand rested now, and to herself she vowed she would +control it, since only thus might she be saved. The torture she had +undergone for months, the warring of the evil past with the noble +present, of that which was sweet and passionately loving woman with that +which was all but devil, had strung her to a pitch so intense and high +that on the falling of this unnatural and unforeseen blow she was left +scarce a human thing. Looking back, she saw herself a creature doomed +from birth; and here in one moment seemed to stand a force ranged in mad +battle with the fate which had doomed her. + +"'Twas ordained that the blow should fall so," she said, "and those who +did it laugh--laugh at me." + +'Twas but a moment, and her sharp breathing became even and regular as +though at her command; her face composed itself, and she turned to the +bell and rang it as with imperious haste. + +When the lacquey entered, she was standing holding papers in her hand as +if she had but just been consulting them. + +"Follow Sir John Oxon," she commanded. "Tell him I have forgot an +important thing and beg him to return at once. Lose no time. He has but +just left me and can scarce be out of sight." + +The fellow saw there was no time to lose. They all feared that imperial +eye of hers and fled to obey its glances. Bowing, he turned, and +hastened to do her bidding, fearing to admit that he had not seen the +guest leave, because to do so would be to confess that he had been absent +from his post, which was indeed the truth. + +She knew he would come back shortly, and thus he did, entering somewhat +breathed by his haste. + +"My lady," he said, "I went quickly to the street, and indeed to the +corner of it, but Sir John was not within sight." + +"Fool, you were not swift enough!" she said angrily. "Wait, you must go +to his lodgings with a note. The matter is of importance." + +She went to a table--'twas close to the divan, so close that if she had +thrust forth her foot she could have touched what lay beneath it--and +wrote hastily a few lines. They were to request that which was +stiffening within three feet of her to return to her as quickly as +possible that she might make inquiries of an important nature which she +had forgotten at his departure. + +"Take this to Sir John's lodgings," she said. "Let there be no loitering +by the way. Deliver into his own hands, and bring back at once his +answer." + +Then she was left alone again, and being so left, paced the room slowly, +her gaze upon the floor. + +"That was well done," she said. "When he returns and has not found him, +I will be angered, and send him again to wait." + +She stayed her pacing, and passed her hand across her face. + +"'Tis like a nightmare," she said--"as if one dreamed, and choked, and +panted, and would scream aloud, but could not. I cannot! I must not! +Would that I might shriek, and dash myself upon the floor, and beat my +head upon it until I lay--as _he_ does." + +She stood a moment, breathing fast, her eyes widening, that part of her +which was weak woman for the moment putting her in parlous danger, +realising the which she pressed her sides with hands that were of steel. + +"Wait! wait!" she said to herself. "This is going mad. This is +loosening hold, and being beaten by that One who hates me and laughs to +see what I have come to." + +Naught but that unnatural engine of will could have held her within +bounds and restrained the mounting female weakness that beset her; but +this engine being stronger than all else, it beat her womanish and +swooning terrors down. + +"Through this one day I must live," she said, "and plan, and guard each +moment that doth pass. My face must tell no tale, my voice must hint +none. He will be still--God knows he will be still enough." + +Upon the divan itself there had been lying a little dog; 'twas a King +Charles' spaniel, a delicate pampered thing, which attached itself to +her, and was not easily driven away. Once during the last hour the +fierce, ill-hushed voices had disturbed it, and it had given vent to a +fretted bark, but being a luxurious little beast, it had soon curled up +among its cushions and gone to sleep again. But as its mistress walked +about muttering low words and ofttimes breathing sharp breaths, it became +disturbed again. Perhaps through some instinct of which naught is known +by human creatures, it felt the strange presence of a thing which roused +it. It stirred, at first drowsily, and lifted its head and sniffed; then +it stretched its limbs, and having done so, stood up, turning on its +mistress a troubled eye, and this she saw and stopped to meet it. 'Twas +a strange look she bestowed upon it, a startled and fearful one; her +thought drew the blood up to her cheek, but backward again it flowed when +the little beast lifted its nose and gave a low but woeful howl. Twice +it did this, and then jumped down, and standing before the edge of the +couch, stood there sniffing. + +There was no mistake, some instinct of which it knew not the meaning had +set it on, and it would not be thrust back. In all beasts this strange +thing has been remarked--that they know that which ends them all, and so +revolt against it that they cannot be at rest so long as it is near them, +but must roar, or whinny, or howl until 'tis out of the reach of their +scent. And so 'twas plain this little beast knew and was afraid and +restless. He would not let it be, but roved about, sniffing and whining, +and not daring to thrust his head beneath the falling draperies, but +growing more and yet more excited and terrified, until at last he +stopped, raised head in air, and gave vent to a longer, louder, and more +dolorous howl, and albeit to one with so strange and noticeable a sound +that her heart turned over in her breast as she stooped and caught him in +her grasp, and shuddered as she stood upright, holding him to her side, +her hand over his mouth. But he would not be hushed, and struggled to +get down as if indeed he would go mad unless he might get to the thing +and rave at it. + +"If I send thee from the room thou wilt come back, poor Frisk," she said. +"There will be no keeping thee away, and I have never ordered thee away +before. Why couldst thou not keep still? Nay, 'twas not dog nature." + +That it was not so was plain by his struggles and the yelps but poorly +stifled by her grasp. + +She put her hand about his little neck, turning, in sooth, very pale. + +"Thou too, poor little beast," she said. "Thou too, who art so small a +thing and never harmed me." + +When the lacquey came back he wore an air more timorous than before. + +"Your ladyship," he faltered, "Sir John had not yet reached his lodgings. +His servant knew not when he might expect him." + +"In an hour go again and wait," she commanded. "He must return ere long +if he has not left town." + +And having said this, pointed to a little silken heap which lay +outstretched limp upon the floor. "'Tis poor Frisk, who has had some +strange spasm, and fell, striking his head. He hath been ailing for +days, and howled loudly but an hour ago. Take him away, poor beast." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--Wherein his Grace of Osmonde's courier arrives from France + + +The stronghold of her security lay in the fact that her household so +stood in awe of her, and that this room, which was one of the richest and +most beautiful, though not the largest, in the mansion, all her servitors +had learned to regard as a sort of sacred place in which none dared to +set foot unless invited or commanded to enter. Within its four walls she +read and wrote in the morning hours, no servant entering unless summoned +by her; and the apartment seeming, as it were, a citadel, none approached +without previous parley. In the afternoon the doors were thrown open, +and she entertained there such visitors as came with less formality than +statelier assemblages demanded. When she went out of it this morning to +go to her chamber that her habit might be changed and her toilette made, +she glanced about her with a steady countenance. + +"Until the babblers flock in to chatter of the modes and playhouses," she +said, "all will be as quiet as the grave. Then I must stand near, and +plan well, and be in such beauty and spirit that they will see naught but +me." + +In the afternoon 'twas the fashion for those who had naught more serious +in their hands than the killing of time to pay visits to each other's +houses, and drinking dishes of tea, to dispose of their neighbours' +characters, discuss the playhouses, the latest fashions in furbelows or +commodes, and make love either lightly or with serious intent. One may +be sure that at my Lady Dunstanwolde's many dishes of Bohea were drunk, +and many ogling glances and much witticism exchanged. There was in these +days even a greater following about her than ever. A triumphant beauty +on the verge of becoming a great duchess is not like to be neglected by +her acquaintance, and thus her ladyship held assemblies both gay and +brilliantly varied, which were the delight of the fashionable triflers of +the day. + +This afternoon they flocked in greater numbers than usual. The episode +of the breaking of Devil, the unexpected return of his Grace of Osmonde, +the preparations for the union, had given an extra stimulant to that +interest in her ladyship which was ever great enough to need none. +Thereunto was added the piquancy of the stories of the noticeable +demeanour of Sir John Oxon, of what had seemed to be so plain a rebellion +against his fate, and also of my lady's open and cold displeasure at the +manner of his bearing himself as a disappointed man who presumed to show +anger against that to which he should gallantly have been resigned, as +one who is conquered by the chance of war. Those who had beheld the two +ride homeward together in the morning, were full of curiousness, and one +and another, mentioning the matter, exchanged glances, speaking plainly +of desire to know more of what had passed, and of hope that chance might +throw the two together again in public, where more of interest might be +gathered. It seemed indeed not unlikely that Sir John might appear among +the tea-bibbers, and perchance 'twas for this lively reason that my +lady's room was this afternoon more than usually full of gay spirits and +gossip-loving ones. + +They found, however, only her ladyship's self and her sister, Mistress +Anne, who, of truth, did not often join her tea-parties, finding them so +given up to fashionable chatter and worldly witticisms that she felt +herself somewhat out of place. The world knew Mistress Anne but as a +dull, plain gentlewoman, whom her more brilliant and fortunate sister +gave gracious protection to, and none missed her when she was absent, or +observed her greatly when she appeared upon the scene. To-day she was +perchance more observed than usual, because her pallor was so great a +contrast to her ladyship's splendour of beauty and colour. The contrast +between them was ever a great one; but this afternoon Mistress Anne's +always pale countenance seemed almost livid, there were rings of pain or +illness round her eyes, and her features looked drawn and pinched. My +Lady Dunstanwolde, clad in a great rich petticoat of crimson flowered +satin, with wondrous yellow Mechlin for her ruffles, and with her +glorious hair dressed like a tower, looked taller, more goddess-like and +full of splendid fire than ever she had been before beheld, or so her +visitors said to her and to each other; though, to tell the truth, this +was no new story, she being one of those women having the curious power +of inspiring the beholder with the feeling each time he encountered them +that he had never before seen them in such beauty and bloom. + +When she had come down the staircase from her chamber, Anne, who had been +standing at the foot, had indeed started somewhat at the sight of her +rich dress and brilliant hues. + +"Why do you jump as if I were a ghost, Anne?" she asked. "Do I look like +one? My looking-glass did not tell me so." + +"No," said Anne; "you--are so--so crimson and splendid--and I--" + +Her ladyship came swiftly down the stairs to her. + +"You are not crimson and splendid," she said. "'Tis you who are a ghost. +What is it?" + +Anne let her soft, dull eyes rest upon her for a moment helplessly, and +when she replied her voice sounded weak. + +"I think--I am ill, sister," she said. "I seem to tremble and feel +faint." + +"Go then to bed and see the physician. You must be cared for," said her +ladyship. "In sooth, you look ill indeed." + +"Nay," said Anne; "I beg you, sister, this afternoon let me be with you; +it will sustain me. You are so strong--let me--" + +She put out her hand as if to touch her, but it dropped at her side as +though its strength was gone. + +"But there will be many babbling people," said her sister, with a curious +look. "You do not like company, and these days my rooms are full. 'Twill +irk and tire you." + +"I care not for the people--I would be with you," Anne said, in strange +imploring. "I have a sick fancy that I am afraid to sit alone in my +chamber. 'Tis but weakness. Let me this afternoon be with you." + +"Go then and change your robe," said Clorinda, "and put some red upon +your cheeks. You may come if you will. You are a strange creature, +Anne." + +And thus saying, she passed into her apartment. As there are blows and +pain which end in insensibility or delirium, so there are catastrophes +and perils which are so great as to produce something near akin to these. +As she had stood before her mirror in her chamber watching her +reflection, while her woman attired her in her crimson flowered satin and +builded up her stately head-dress, this other woman had felt that the +hour when she could have shrieked and raved and betrayed herself had +passed by, and left a deadness like a calm behind, as though horror had +stunned all pain and yet left her senses clear. She forgot not the thing +which lay staring upward blankly at the under part of the couch which hid +it--the look of its fixed eyes, its outspread locks, and the purple +indentation on the temple she saw as clearly as she had seen them in that +first mad moment when she had stood staring downward at the thing itself; +but the coursing of her blood was stilled, the gallop of her pulses, and +that wild hysteric leaping of her heart into her throat, choking her and +forcing her to gasp and pant in that way which in women must ever end in +shrieks and cries and sobbing beatings of the air. But for the feminine +softness to which her nature had given way for the first time, since the +power of love had mastered her, there was no thing of earth could have +happened to her which would have brought this rolling ball to her throat, +this tremor to her body--since the hour of her birth she had never been +attacked by such a female folly, as she would indeed have regarded it +once; but now 'twas different--for a while she had been a woman--a woman +who had flung herself upon the bosom of him who was her soul's lord, and +resting there, her old rigid strength had been relaxed. + +But 'twas not this woman who had known tender yielding who returned to +take her place in the Panelled Parlour, knowing of the companion who +waited near her unseen--for it was as her companion she thought of him, +as she had thought of him when he followed her in the Mall, forced +himself into her box at the play, or stood by her shoulder at assemblies; +he had placed himself by her side again, and would stay there until she +could rid herself of him. + +"After to-night he will be gone, if I act well my part," she said, "and +then may I live a freed woman." + +'Twas always upon the divan she took her place when she received her +visitors, who were accustomed to finding her enthroned there. This +afternoon when she came into the room she paused for a space, and stood +beside it, the parlour being yet empty. She felt her face grow a little +cold, as if it paled, and her under-lip drew itself tight across her +teeth. + +"In a graveyard," she said, "I have sat upon the stone ledge of a tomb, +and beneath there was--worse than this, could I but have seen it. This +is no more." + +When the Sir Humphreys and Lord Charleses, Lady Bettys and Mistress +Lovelys were announced in flocks, fluttering and chattering, she rose +from her old place to meet them, and was brilliant graciousness itself. +She hearkened to their gossipings, and though 'twas not her way to join +in them, she was this day witty in such way as robbed them of the dulness +in which sometimes gossip ends. It was a varied company which gathered +about her; but to each she gave his or her moment, and in that moment +said that which they would afterwards remember. With those of the Court +she talked royalty, the humours of her Majesty, the severities of her +Grace of Marlborough; with statesmen she spoke with such intellect and +discretion that they went away pondering on the good fortune which had +befallen one man when it seemed that it was of such proportions as might +have satisfied a dozen, for it seemed not fair to them that his Grace of +Osmonde, having already rank, wealth, and fame, should have added to them +a gift of such magnificence as this beauteous woman would bring; with +beaux and wits she made dazzling jests; and to the beauties who desired +their flatteries she gave praise so adroit that they were stimulated to +plume their feathers afresh and cease to fear the rivalry of her +loveliness. + +And yet while she so bore herself, never once did she cease to feel the +presence of that which, lying near, seemed to her racked soul as one who +lay and listened with staring eyes which mocked; for there was a thought +which would not leave her, which was, that it could hear, that it could +see through the glazing on its blue orbs, and that knowing itself bound +by the moveless irons of death and dumbness it impotently raged and +cursed that it could not burst them and shriek out its vengeance, rolling +forth among her worshippers at their feet and hers. + +"But he _can_ not," she said, within her clenched teeth, again and +again--"_that_ he cannot." + +Once as she said this to herself she caught Anne's eyes fixed helplessly +upon her, it seeming to be as the poor woman had said, that her weakness +caused her to desire to abide near her sister's strength and draw support +from it; for she had remained at my lady's side closely since she had +descended to the room, and now seemed to implore some protection for +which she was too timid to openly make request. + +"You are too weak to stay, Anne," her ladyship said. "'Twould be better +that you should retire." + +"I am weak," the poor thing answered, in low tones--"but not too weak to +stay. I am always weak. Would that I were of your strength and courage. +Let me sit down--sister--here." She touched the divan's cushions with a +shaking hand, gazing upward wearily--perchance remembering that this +place seemed ever a sort of throne none other than the hostess queen +herself presumed to encroach upon. + +"You are too meek, poor sister," quoth Clorinda. "'Tis not a chair of +coronation or the woolsack of a judge. Sit! sit!--and let me call for +wine!" + +She spoke to a lacquey and bade him bring the drink, for even as she sank +into her place Anne's cheeks grew whiter. + +When 'twas brought, her ladyship poured it forth and gave it to her +sister with her own hand, obliging her to drink enough to bring her +colour back. Having seen to this, she addressed the servant who had +obeyed her order. + +"Hath Jenfry returned from Sir John Oxon?" she demanded, in that clear, +ringing voice of hers, whose music ever arrested those surrounding her, +whether they were concerned in her speech or no; but now all felt +sufficient interest to prick up ears and hearken to what was said. + +"No, my lady," the lacquey answered. "He said that you had bidden him to +wait." + +"But not all day, poor fool," she said, setting down Anne's empty glass +upon the salver. "Did he think I bade him stand about the door all +night? Bring me his message when he comes." + +"'Tis ever thus with these dull serving folk," she said to those nearest +her. "One cannot pay for wit with wages and livery. They can but obey +the literal word. Sir John, leaving me in haste this morning, I forgot a +question I would have asked, and sent a lacquey to recall him." + +Anne sat upright. + +"Sister--I pray you--another glass of wine." + +My lady gave it to her at once, and she drained it eagerly. + +"Was he overtaken?" said a curious matron, who wished not to see the +subject closed. + +"No," quoth her ladyship, with a light laugh--"though he must have been +in haste, for the man was sent after him in but a moment's time. 'Twas +then I told the fellow to go later to his lodgings and deliver my message +into Sir John's own hand, whence it seems that he thinks that he must +await him till he comes." + +Upon a table near there lay the loaded whip; for she had felt it bolder +to let it lie there as if forgotten, because her pulse had sprung so at +first sight of it when she came down, and she had so quailed before the +desire to thrust it away, to hide it from her sight. "And that I quail +before," she had said, "I must have the will to face--or I am lost." So +she had let it stay. + +A languishing beauty, with melting blue eyes and a pretty fashion of ever +keeping before the world of her admirers her waxen delicacy, lifted the +heavy thing in her frail white hand. + +"How can your ladyship wield it?" she said. "It is so heavy for a +woman--but your ladyship is--is not--" + +"Not quite a woman," said the beautiful creature, standing at her full +great height, and smiling down at this blue and white piece of frailty +with the flashing splendour of her eyes. + +"Not quite a woman," cried two wits at once. "A goddess rather--an +Olympian goddess." + +The languisher could not endure comparisons which so seemed to disparage +her ethereal charms. She lifted the weapon with a great effort, which +showed the slimness of her delicate fair wrist and the sweet tracery of +blue veins upon it. + +"Nay," she said lispingly, "it needs the muscle of a great man to lift +it. I could not hold it--much less beat with it a horse." And to show +how coarse a strength was needed and how far her femininity lacked such +vigour, she dropped it upon the floor--and it rolled beneath the edge of +the divan. + +"Now," the thought shot through my lady's brain, as a bolt shoots from +the sky--"now--he _laughs_!" + +She had no time to stir--there were upon their knees three beaux at once, +and each would sure have thrust his arm below the seat and rummaged, had +not God saved her! Yes, 'twas of God she thought in that terrible mad +second--God!--and only a mind that is not human could have told why. + +For Anne--poor Mistress Anne--white-faced and shaking, was before them +all, and with a strange adroitness stooped,--and thrust her hand below, +and drawing the thing forth, held it up to view. + +"'Tis here," she said, "and in sooth, sister, I wonder not at its +falling--its weight is so great." + +Clorinda took it from her hand. + +"I shall break no more beasts like Devil," she said, "and for quieter +ones it weighs too much; I shall lay it by." + +She crossed the room and laid it upon a shelf. + +"It was ever heavy--but for Devil. 'Tis done with," she said; and there +came back to her face--which for a second had lost hue--a flood of +crimson so glowing, and a smile so strange, that those who looked and +heard, said to themselves that 'twas the thought of Osmonde who had so +changed her, which made her blush. But a few moments later they beheld +the same glow mount again. A lacquey entered, bearing a salver on which +lay two letters. One was a large one, sealed with a ducal coronet, and +this she saw first, and took in her hand even before the man had time to +speak. + +"His Grace's courier has arrived from France," he said; "the package was +ordered to be delivered at once." + +"It must be that his Grace returns earlier than we had hoped," she said, +and then the other missive caught her eye. + +"'Tis your ladyship's own," the lacquey explained somewhat anxiously. +"'Twas brought back, Sir John not having yet come home, and Jenfry having +waited three hours." + +"'Twas long enough," quoth her ladyship. "'Twill do to-morrow." + +She did not lay Osmonde's letter aside, but kept it in her hand, and +seeing that she waited for their retirement to read it, her guests began +to make their farewells. One by one or in groups of twos and threes they +left her, the men bowing low, and going away fretted by the memory of the +picture she made--a tall and regal figure in her flowered crimson, her +stateliness seeming relaxed and softened by the mere holding of the +sealed missive in her hand. But the women were vaguely envious, not of +Osmonde, but of her before whom there lay outspread as far as life's +horizon reached, a future of such perfect love and joy; for Gerald +Mertoun had been marked by feminine eyes since his earliest youth, and +had seemed to embody all that woman's dreams or woman's ambitions or her +love could desire. + +When the last was gone, Clorinda turned, tore her letter open, and held +it hard to her lips. Before she read a word she kissed it passionately a +score of times, paying no heed that Anne sate gazing at her; and having +kissed it so, she fell to reading it, her cheeks warm with the glow of a +sweet and splendid passion, her bosom rising and falling in a tempest of +tender, fluttering breaths--and 'twas these words her eyes devoured: + + "If I should head this page I write to you 'Goddess and Queen, and + Empress of my deepest soul,' what more should I be saying than 'My + Love' and 'My Clorinda,' since these express all the soul of man could + crave for or his body desire. The body and soul of me so long for + thee, sweetheart, and sweetest beautiful woman that the hand of Nature + ever fashioned for the joy of mortals, that I have had need to pray + Heaven's help to aid me to endure the passing of the days that lie + between me and the hour which will make me the most strangely, + rapturously, happy man, not in England, not in the world, but in all + God's universe. I must pray Heaven again, and indeed do and will, for + humbleness which shall teach me to remember that I am not deity, but + mere man--mere man--though I shall hold a goddess to my breast and + gaze into eyes which are like deep pools of Paradise, and yet answer + mine with the marvel of such love as none but such a soul could make a + woman's, and so fit to mate with man's. In the heavy days when I was + wont to gaze at you from afar with burning heart, my unceasing anguish + was that even high honour itself could not subdue and conquer the + thoughts which leaped within me even as my pulse leaped, and even as + my pulse could not be stilled unless by death. And one that for ever + haunted--aye, and taunted--me was the image of how your tall, beauteous + body would yield itself to a strong man's arm, and your noble head + with its heavy tower of hair resting upon his shoulder--the centres of + his very being would be thrilled and shaken by the uplifting of such + melting eyes as surely man ne'er gazed within on earth before, and the + ripe and scarlet bow of a mouth so beauteous and so sweet with + womanhood. This beset me day and night, and with such torture that I + feared betimes my brain might reel and I become a lost and ruined + madman. And now--it is no more forbidden me to dwell upon it--nay, I + lie waking at night, wooing the picture to me, and at times I rise + from my dreams to kneel by my bedside and thank God that He hath given + me at last what surely is my own!--for so it seems to me, my love, that + each of us is but a part of the other, and that such forces of Nature + rush to meet together in us, that Nature herself would cry out were we + rent apart. If there were aught to rise like a ghost between us, if + there were aught that could sunder us--noble soul, let us but swear + that it shall weld us but the closer together, and that locked in each + other's arms its blows shall not even make our united strength to + sway. Sweetest lady, your lovely lip will curve in smiles, and you + will say, 'He is mad with his joy--my Gerald' (for never till my heart + stops at its last beat and leaves me still, a dead man, cold upon my + bed, can I forget the music of your speech when you spoke those words, + 'My Gerald! My Gerald.') And indeed I crave your pardon, for a man + so filled with rapture cannot be quite sane, and sometimes I wonder if + I walk through the palace gardens like one who is drunk, so does my + brain reel. But soon, my heavenly, noble love, my exile will be over, + and this is in truth what my letter is to tell you, that in four days + your lacqueys will throw open your doors to me and I shall enter, and + being led to you, shall kneel at your feet and kiss the hem of your + robe, and then rise standing to fold her who will so soon be my very + wife to my throbbing breast." + +Back to her face had come all the softness which had been lost, the hard +lines were gone, the tender curves had returned, her lashes looked as if +they were moist. Anne, sitting rigidly and gazing at her, was afraid to +speak, knowing that she was not for the time on earth, but that the sound +of a voice would bring her back to it, and that 'twas well she should be +away as long as she might. + +She read the letter, not once, but thrice, dwelling upon every word, +'twas plain; and when she had reached the last one, turning back the +pages and beginning again. When she looked up at last, 'twas with an +almost wild little smile, for she had indeed for that one moment +forgotten. + +"Locked in each other's arms," she said--"locked in each other's arms. My +Gerald! My Gerald! 'What surely is my own--my own'!" + +Anne rose and came to her, laying her hand on her arm. She spoke in a +voice low, hushed, and strained. + +"Come away, sister," she said, "for a little while--come away." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--My Lady Dunstanwolde sits late alone and writes + + +That she must leave the Panelled Parlour at her usual hour, or attract +attention by doing that to which her household was unaccustomed, she well +knew, her manner of life being ever stately and ceremonious in its +regularity. When she dined at home she and Anne partook of their repast +together in the large dining-room, the table loaded with silver dishes +and massive glittering glass, their powdered, gold-laced lacqueys in +attendance, as though a score of guests had shared the meal with them. +Since her lord's death there had been nights when her ladyship had sat +late writing letters and reading documents pertaining to her estates, the +management of which, though in a measure controlled by stewards and +attorneys, was not left to them, as the business of most great ladies is +generally left to others. All papers were examined by her, all leases +and agreements clearly understood before she signed them, and if there +were aught unsatisfactory, both stewards and lawyers were called to her +presence to explain. + +"Never did I--or any other man--meet with such a head upon a woman's +shoulders," her attorney said. And the head steward of Dunstanwolde and +Helversly learned to quake at the sight of her bold handwriting upon the +outside of a letter. + +"Such a lady!" he said--"such a lady! Lie to her if you can; palter if +you know how; try upon her the smallest honest shrewd trick, and see how +it fares with you. Were it not that she is generous as she is piercing +of eye, no man could serve her and make an honest living." + +She went to her chamber and was attired again sumptuously for dinner. +Before she descended she dismissed her woman for a space on some errand, +and when she was alone, drawing near to her mirror, gazed steadfastly +within it at her face. When she had read Osmonde's letter her cheeks had +glowed; but when she had come back to earth, and as she had sat under her +woman's hands at her toilette, bit by bit the crimson had died out as she +had thought of what was behind her and of what lay before. The thing was +so stiffly rigid by this time, and its eyes still stared so. Never had +she needed to put red upon her cheeks before, Nature having stained them +with such richness of hue; but as no lady of the day was unprovided with +her crimson, there was a little pot among her toilette ornaments which +contained all that any emergency might require. She opened this small +receptacle and took from it the red she for the first time was in want +of. + +"I must not wear a pale face, God knows," she said, and rubbed the colour +on her cheeks with boldness. + +It would have seemed that she wore her finest crimson when she went forth +full dressed from her apartment; little Nero grinned to see her, the +lacqueys saying among themselves that his Grace's courier had surely +brought good news, and that they might expect his master soon. At the +dinner-table 'twas Anne who was pale and ate but little, she having put +no red upon her cheeks, and having no appetite for what was spread before +her. She looked strangely as though she were withered and shrunken, and +her face seemed even wrinkled. My lady had small leaning towards food, +but she sent no food away untouched, forcing herself to eat, and letting +not the talk flag--though it was indeed true that 'twas she herself who +talked, Mistress Anne speaking rarely; but as it was always her way to be +silent, and a listener rather than one who conversed, this was not +greatly noticeable. + +Her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde talked of her guests of the afternoon, and +was charming and witty in her speech of them; she repeated the _mots_ of +the wits, and told some brilliant stories of certain modish ladies and +gentlemen of fashion; she had things to say of statesmen and politics, +and was sparkling indeed in speaking of the lovely languisher whose +little wrist was too delicate and slender to support the loaded whip. +While she talked, Mistress Anne's soft, dull eyes were fixed upon her +with a sort of wonder which had some of the quality of bewilderment; but +this was no new thing either, for to the one woman the other was ever +something to marvel at. + +"It is because you are so quiet a mouse, Anne," my lady said, with her +dazzling smile, "that you seem never in the way; and yet I should miss +you if I knew you were not within the house. When the duke takes me to +Camylotte you must be with me even then. It is so great a house that in +it I can find you a bower in which you can be happy even if you see us +but little. 'Tis a heavenly place I am told, and of great splendour and +beauty. The park and flower-gardens are the envy of all England." + +"You--will be very happy, sister," said Anne, "and--and like a queen." + +"Yes," was her sister's answer--"yes." And 'twas spoken with a deep in- +drawn breath. + +After the repast was ended she went back to the Panelled Parlour. + +"You may sit with me till bedtime if you desire, Anne," she said; "but +'twill be but dull for you, as I go to sit at work. I have some +documents of import to examine and much writing to do. I shall sit up +late." And upon this she turned to the lacquey holding open the door for +her passing through. "If before half-past ten there comes a message from +Sir John Oxon," she gave order, "it must be brought to me at once; but +later I must not be disturbed--it will keep until morning." + +Yet as she spoke there was before her as distinct a picture as ever of +what lay waiting and gazing in the room to which she went. + +Until twelve o'clock she sat at her table, a despatch box by her side, +papers outspread before her. Within three feet of her was the divan, but +she gave no glance to it, sitting writing, reading, and comparing +documents. At twelve o'clock she rose and rang the bell. + +"I shall be later than I thought," she said. "I need none of you who are +below stairs. Go you all to bed. Tell my woman that she also may lie +down. I will ring when I come to my chamber and have need of her. There +is yet no message from Sir John?" + +"None, my lady," the man answered. + +He went away with a relieved countenance, as she made no comment. He +knew that his fellows as well as himself would be pleased enough to be +released from duty for the night. They were a pampered lot, and had no +fancy for late hours when there were no great entertainments being held +which pleased them and gave them chances to receive vails. + +Mistress Anne sat in a large chair, huddled into a small heap, and +looking colourless and shrunken. As she heard bolts being shot and bars +put up for the closing of the house, she knew that her own dismissal was +at hand. Doors were shut below stairs, and when all was done the silence +of night reigned as it does in all households when those who work have +gone to rest. 'Twas a common thing enough, and yet this night there was +one woman who felt the stillness so deep that it made her breathing seem +a sound too loud. + +"Go to bed, Anne," she said. "You have stayed up too long." + +Anne arose from her chair and drew near to her. + +"Sister," said she, as she had said before, "let me stay." + +She was a poor weak creature, and so she looked with her pale +insignificant face and dull eyes, a wisp of loose hair lying damp on her +forehead. She seemed indeed too weak a thing to stand even for a moment +in the way of what must be done this night, and 'twas almost irritating +to be stopped by her. + +"Nay," said my Lady Dunstanwolde, her beautiful brow knitting as she +looked at her. "Go to your chamber, Anne, and to sleep. I must do my +work, and finish to-night what I have begun." + +"But--but--" Anne stammered, dominated again, and made afraid, as she +ever was, by this strong nature, "in this work you must finish--is there +not something I could do to--aid you--even in some small and poor way. Is +there--naught?" + +"Naught," answered Clorinda, her form drawn to its great full height, her +lustrous eyes darkening. "What should there be that you could +understand?" + +"Not some small thing--not some poor thing?" Anne said, her fingers +nervously twisting each other, so borne down was she by her awful +timorousness, for awful it was indeed when she saw clouds gather on her +sister's brow. "I have so loved you, sister--I have so loved you that my +mind is quickened somehow at times, and I can understand more than would +be thought--when I hope to serve you. Once you said--once you said--" + +She knew not then nor ever afterwards how it came to pass that in that +moment she found herself swept into her sister's white arms and strained +against her breast, wherein she felt the wild heart bounding; nor could +she, not being given to subtle reasoning, have comprehended the almost +fierce kiss on her cheek nor the hot drops that wet it. + +"I said that I believed that if you saw me commit murder," Clorinda +cried, "you would love me still, and be my friend and comforter." + +"I would, I would!" cried Anne. + +"And I believe your word, poor, faithful soul--I do believe it," my lady +said, and kissed her hard again, but the next instant set her free and +laughed. "But you will not be put to the test," she said, "for I have +done none. And in two days' time my Gerald will be here, and I shall be +safe--saved and happy for evermore--for evermore. There, leave me! I +would be alone and end my work." + +And she went back to her table and sat beside it, taking her pen to +write, and Anne knew that she dare say no more, and turning, went slowly +from the room, seeing for her last sight as she passed through the +doorway, the erect and splendid figure at its task, the light from the +candelabras shining upon the rubies round the snow-white neck and +wreathed about the tower of raven hair like lines of crimson. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--A piteous story is told, and the old cellars walled in + + +It is, indeed, strangely easy in the great world for a man to lose his +importance, and from having been the target for all eyes and the subject +of all conversation, to step from his place, or find it so taken by some +rival that it would seem, judging from the general obliviousness to him, +that he had never existed. But few years before no fashionable gathering +would have been felt complete had it not been graced by the presence of +the young and fascinating Lovelace, Sir John Oxon. Women favoured him, +and men made themselves his boon companions; his wit was repeated; the +fashion of his hair and the cut of his waistcoat copied. He was at first +rich and gay enough to be courted and made a favourite; but when his +fortune was squandered, and his marriage with the heiress came to naught, +those qualities which were vicious and base in him were more easy to be +seen. Besides, there came new male beauties and new dandies with greater +resources and more of prudence, and these, beginning to set fashion, win +ladies' hearts, and make conquests, so drew the attention of the public +mind that he was less noticeable, being only one of many, instead of +ruling singly as it had seemed that by some strange chance he did at +first. There were indeed so many stories told of his light ways, that +their novelty being worn off and new ones still repeated, such persons as +concerned themselves with matters of reputation either through conscience +or policy, began to speak of him with less of warmth or leniency. + +"'Tis not well for a matron with daughters to marry and with sons to keep +an eye to," it was said, "to have in her household too often a young +gentleman who has squandered his fortune in dice and drink and wild +living, and who 'twas known was cast off by a reputable young lady of +fortune." + +So there were fine ladies who began to avoid him, and those in power at +Court and in the world who regarded him with lessening favour day by day! +In truth, he had such debts, and his creditors pressed him so +ceaselessly, that even had the world's favour continued, his life must +have changed its aspect greatly. His lodgings were no longer the most +luxurious in the fashionable part of the town, his brocades and laces +were no longer of the richest, nor his habit of the very latest and most +modish cut; he had no more an equipage attracting every eye as he drove +forth, nor a gentleman's gentleman whose swagger and pomp outdid that of +all others in his world. Soon after the breaking of his marriage with +the heiress, his mother had died, and his relatives being few, and those +of an order strictly averse to the habits of ill-provided and extravagant +kinsmen, he had but few family ties. Other ties he had, 'twas true, but +they were not such as were accounted legal or worthy of attention either +by himself or those related to him. + +So it befell that when my Lady Dunstanwolde's lacquey could not find him +at his lodgings, and as the days went past neither his landlady nor his +creditors beheld him again, his absence from the scene was not considered +unaccountable by them, nor did it attract the notice it would have done +in times gone by. + +"He hath made his way out of England to escape us," said the angry +tailors and mercers--who had besieged his door in vain for months, and +who were now infuriated at the thought of their own easiness and the +impudent gay airs which had befooled them. "A good four hundred pounds +of mine hath he carried with him," said one. "And two hundred of mine!" +"And more of mine, since I am a poor man to whom a pound means twenty +guineas!" "We are all robbed, and he has cheated the debtors' prison, +wherein, if we had not been fools, he would have been clapped six months +ago." + +"Think ye he will not come back, gentlemen?" quavered his landlady. "God +knows when I have seen a guinea of his money--but he was such a handsome, +fine young nobleman, and had such a way with a poor body, and ever a +smile and a chuck o' the chin for my Jenny." + +"Look well after poor Jenny if he hath left her behind," said the tailor. + +He did not come back, indeed; and hearing the rumour that he had fled his +creditors, the world of fashion received the news with small disturbance, +all modish persons being at that time much engaged in discussion of the +approaching nuptials of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde and the Duke of +Osmonde. Close upon the discussions of the preparations came the +nuptials themselves, and then all the town was agog, and had small +leisure to think of other things. For those who were bidden to the +ceremonials and attendant entertainments, there were rich habits and +splendid robes to be prepared; and to those who had not been bidden, +there were bitter disappointments and thwarted wishes to think of. + +"Sir John Oxon has fled England to escape seeing and hearing it all," was +said. + +"He has fled to escape something more painful than the spleen," others +answered. "He had reached his rope's end, and finding that my Lady +Dunstanwolde was not of a mind to lengthen it with her fortune, having +taken a better man, and that his creditors would have no more patience, +he showed them a light pair of heels." + +Before my Lady Dunstanwolde left her house she gave orders that it be set +in order for closing for some time, having it on her mind that she should +not soon return. It was, however, to be left in such condition that at +any moment, should she wish to come to it, all could be made ready in two +days' time. To this end various repairs and changes she had planned were +to be carried out as soon as she went away from it. Among other things +was the closing with brickwork of the entrance to the passage leading to +the unused cellars. + +"'Twill make the servants' part more wholesome and less damp and +draughty," she said; "and if I should sell the place, will be to its +advantage. 'Twas a builder with little wit who planned such passages and +black holes. In spite of all the lime spread there, they were ever +mouldy and of evil odour." + +It was her command that there should be no time lost, and men were set at +work, carrying bricks and mortar. It so chanced that one of them, going +in through a back entrance with a hod over his shoulder, and being young +and lively, found his eye caught by the countenance of a pretty, +frightened-looking girl, who seemed to be loitering about watching, as if +curious or anxious. Seeing her near each time he passed, and observing +that she wished to speak, but was too timid, he addressed her-- + +"Would you know aught, mistress?" he said. + +She drew nearer gratefully, and then he saw her eyes were red as if with +weeping. + +"Think you her ladyship would let a poor girl speak a word with her?" she +said. "Think you I dare ask so much of a servant--or would they flout me +and turn me from the door? Have you seen her? Does she look like a +hard, shrewish lady?" + +"That she does not, though all stand in awe of her," he answered, pleased +to talk with so pretty a creature. "I but caught a glimpse of her when +she gave orders concerning the closing with brick of a passage-way below. +She is a tall lady, and grand and stately, but she hath a soft pair of +eyes as ever man would wish to look into, be he duke or ditcher." + +The tears began to run down the girl's cheeks. + +"Ay!" she said; "all men love her, they say. Many a poor girl's +sweetheart has been false through her--and I thought she was cruel and +ill-natured. Know you the servants that wait on her? Would you dare to +ask one for me, if he thinks she would deign to see a poor girl who would +crave the favour to be allowed to speak to her of--of a gentleman she +knows?" + +"They are but lacqueys, and I would dare to ask what was in my mind," he +answered; "but she is near her wedding-day, and little as I know of +brides' ways, I am of the mind that she will not like to be troubled." + +"That I stand in fear of," she said; "but, oh! I pray you, ask some one +of them--a kindly one." + +The young man looked aside. "Luck is with you," he said. "Here comes +one now to air himself in the sun, having naught else to do. Here is a +young woman who would speak with her ladyship," he said to the strapping +powdered fellow. + +"She had best begone," the lacquey answered, striding towards the +applicant. "Think you my lady has time to receive traipsing wenches." + +"'Twas only for a moment I asked," the girl said. "I come from--I would +speak to her of--of Sir John Oxon--whom she knows." + +The man's face changed. It was Jenfry. + +"Sir John Oxon," he said. "Then I will ask her. Had you said any other +name I would not have gone near her to-day." + +Her ladyship was in her new closet with Mistress Anne, and there the +lacquey came to her to deliver his errand. + +"A country-bred young woman, your ladyship," he said, "comes from Sir +John Oxon--" + +"From Sir John Oxon!" cried Anne, starting in her chair. + +My Lady Dunstanwolde made no start, but turned a steady countenance +towards the door, looking into the lacquey's face. + +"Then he hath returned?" she said. + +"Returned!" said Anne. + +"After the morning he rode home with me," my lady answered, "'twas said +he went away. He left his lodgings without warning. It seems he hath +come back. What does the woman want?" she ended. + +"To speak with your ladyship," replied the man, "of Sir John himself, she +says." + +"Bring her to me," her ladyship commanded. + +The girl was brought in, overawed and trembling. She was a country-bred +young creature, as the lacquey had said, being of the simple rose-and- +white freshness of seventeen years perhaps, and having childish blue eyes +and fair curling locks. + +She was so frightened by the grandeur of her surroundings, and the +splendid beauty of the lady who was so soon to be a duchess, and was +already a great earl's widow, that she could only stand within the +doorway, curtseying and trembling, with tears welling in her eyes. + +"Be not afraid," said my Lady Dunstanwolde. "Come hither, child, and +tell me what you want." Indeed, she did not look a hard or shrewish +lady; she spoke as gently as woman could, and a mildness so unexpected +produced in the young creature such a revulsion of feeling that she made +a few steps forward and fell upon her knees, weeping, and with uplifted +hands. + +"My lady," she said, "I know not how I dared to come, but that I am so +desperate--and your ladyship being so happy, it seemed--it seemed that +you might pity me, who am so helpless and know not what to do." + +Her ladyship leaned forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee, her chin +held in her hand, to gaze at her. + +"You come from Sir John Oxon?" she said. + +Anne, watching, clutched each arm of her chair. + +"Not _from_ him, asking your ladyship's pardon," said the child, +"but--but--from the country to him," her head falling on her breast, "and +I know not where he is." + +"You came _to_ him," asked my lady. "Are you," and her speech was +pitiful and slow--"are you one of those whom he has--ruined?" + +The little suppliant looked up with widening orbs. + +"How could that be, and he so virtuous and pious a gentleman?" she +faltered. + +Then did my lady rise with a sudden movement. + +"Was he so?" says she. + +"Had he not been," the child answered, "my mother would have been afraid +to trust him. I am but a poor country widow's daughter, but was well +brought up, and honestly--and when he came to our village my mother was +afraid, because he was a gentleman; but when she saw his piety, and how +he went to church and sang the psalms and prayed for grace, she let me +listen to him." + +"Did he go to church and sing and pray at first?" my lady asks. + +"'Twas in church he saw me, your ladyship," she was answered. "He said +'twas his custom to go always when he came to a new place, and that often +there he found the most heavenly faces, for 'twas piety and innocence +that made a face like to an angel's; and 'twas innocence and virtue +stirred his heart to love, and not mere beauty which so fades." + +"Go on, innocent thing," my lady said; and she turned aside to Anne, +flashing from her eyes unseen a great blaze, and speaking in a low and +hurried voice. "God's house," she said--"God's prayers--God's songs of +praise--he used them all to break a tender heart, and bring an innocent +life to ruin--and yet was he not struck dead?" + +Anne hid her face and shuddered. + +"He was a gentleman," the poor young thing cried, sobbing--"and I no fit +match for him, but that he loved me. 'Tis said love makes all equal; and +he said I was the sweetest, innocent young thing, and without me he could +not live. And he told my mother that he was not rich or the fashion now, +and had no modish friends or relations to flout any poor beauty he might +choose to wed." + +"And he would marry you?" my lady's voice broke in. "He said that he +would marry you?" + +"A thousand times, your ladyship, and so told my mother, but said I must +come to town and be married at his lodgings, or 'twould not be counted a +marriage by law, he being a town gentleman, and I from the country." + +"And you came," said Mistress Anne, down whose pale cheeks the tears were +running--"you came at his command to follow him?" + +"What day came you up to town?" demands my lady, breathless and leaning +forward. "Went you to his lodgings, and stayed you there with him,--even +for an hour?" + +The poor child gazed at her, paling. + +"He was not there!" she cried. "I came alone because he said all must be +secret at first; and my heart beat so with joy, my lady, that when the +woman of the house whereat he lodges let me in I scarce could speak. But +she was a merry woman and good-natured, and only laughed and cheered me +when she took me to his rooms, and I sate trembling." + +"What said she to you?" my lady asks, her breast heaving with her breath. + +"That he was not yet in, but that he would sure come to such a young and +pretty thing as I, and I must wait for him, for he would not forgive her +if she let me go. And the while I waited there came a man in bands and +cassock, but he had not a holy look, and late in the afternoon I heard +him making jokes with the woman outside, and they both laughed in such an +evil way that I was affrighted, and waiting till they had gone to another +part of the house, stole away." + +"But he came not back that night--thank God!" my lady said--"he came not +back." + +The girl rose from her knees, trembling, her hands clasped on her breast. + +"Why should your ladyship thank God?" she says, pure drops falling from +her eyes. "I am so humble, and had naught else but that great happiness, +and it was taken away--and you thank God." + +Then drops fell from my lady's eyes also, and she came forward and caught +the child's hand, and held it close and warm and strong, and yet with her +full lip quivering. + +"'Twas not that your joy was taken away that I thanked God," said she. "I +am not cruel--God Himself knows that, and when He smites me 'twill not be +for cruelty. I knew not what I said, and yet--tell me what did you then? +Tell me?" + +"I went to a poor house to lodge, having some little money he had given +me," the simple young thing answered. "'Twas an honest house, though +mean and comfortless. And the next day I went back to his lodgings to +question, but he had not come, and I would not go in, though the woman +tried to make me enter, saying, Sir John would surely return soon, as he +had the day before rid with my Lady Dunstanwolde and been to her house; +and 'twas plain he had meant to come to his lodgings, for her ladyship +had sent her lacquey thrice with a message." + +The hand with which Mistress Anne sate covering her eyes began to shake. +My lady's own hand would have shaken had she not been so strong a +creature. + +"And he has not yet returned, then?" she asked. "You have not seen him?" + +The girl shook her fair locks, weeping with piteous little sobs. + +"He has not," she cried, "and I know not what to do--and the great town +seems full of evil men and wicked women. I know not which way to turn, +for all plot wrong against me, and would drag me down to shamefulness--and +back to my poor mother I cannot go." + +"Wherefore not, poor child?" my lady asked her. + +"I have not been made an honest, wedded woman, and none would believe my +story, and--and he might come back." + +"And if he came back?" said her ladyship. + +At this question the girl slipped from her grasp and down upon her knees +again, catching at her rich petticoat and holding it, her eyes searching +the great lady's in imploring piteousness, her own streaming. + +"I love him," she wept--"I love him so--I cannot leave the place where he +might be. He was so beautiful and grand a gentleman, and, sure, he loved +me better than all else--and I cannot thrust away from me that last night +when he held me to his breast near our cottage door, and the nightingale +sang in the roses, and he spake such words to me. I lie and sob all +night on my hard pillow--I so long to see him and to hear his voice--and +hearing he had been with you that last morning, I dared to come, praying +that you might have heard him let drop some word that would tell me where +he may be, for I cannot go away thinking he may come back longing for +me--and I lose him and never see his face again. Oh! my lady, my lady, +this place is so full of wickedness and fierce people--and dark kennels +where crimes are done. I am affrighted for him, thinking he may have +been struck some blow, and murdered, and hid away; and none will look for +him but one who loves him--who loves him. Could it be so?--could it be? +You know the town's ways so well. I pray you, tell me--in God's name I +pray you!" + +"God's mercy!" Anne breathed, and from behind her hands came stifled +sobbing. My Lady Dunstanwolde bent down, her colour dying. + +"Nay, nay," she said, "there has been no murder done--none! Hush, poor +thing, hush thee. There is somewhat I must tell thee." + +She tried to raise her, but the child would not be raised, and clung to +her rich robe, shaking as she knelt gazing upward. + +"It is a bitter thing," my lady said, and 'twas as if her own eyes were +imploring. "God help you bear it--God help us all. He told me nothing +of his journey. I knew not he was about to take it; but wheresoever he +has travelled, 'twas best that he should go." + +"Nay! nay!" the girl cried out--"to leave me helpless. Nay! it could not +be so. He loved me--loved me--as the great duke loves you!" + +"He meant you evil," said my lady, shuddering, "and evil he would have +done you. He was a villain--a villain who meant to trick you. Had God +struck him dead that day, 'twould have been mercy to you. I knew him +well." + +The young thing gave a bitter cry and fell swooning at her feet; and down +upon her knees my lady went beside her, loosening her gown, and chafing +her poor hands as though they two had been of sister blood. + +"Call for hartshorn, Anne, and for water," she said; "she will come out +of her swooning, poor child, and if she is cared for kindly in time her +pain will pass away. God be thanked she knows no pain that cannot pass! +I will protect her--aye, that will I, as I will protect all he hath done +wrong to and deserted." + +* * * * * + +She was so strangely kind through the poor victim's swoons and weeping +that the very menials who were called to aid her went back to their hall +wondering in their talk of the noble grandness of so great a lady, who on +the very brink of her own joy could stoop to protect and comfort a +creature so far beneath her, that to most ladies her sorrow and desertion +would have been things which were too trivial to count; for 'twas +guessed, and talked over with great freedom and much shrewdness, that +this was a country victim of Sir John Oxon's, and he having deserted his +creditors, was ready enough to desert his rustic beauty, finding her heavy +on his hands. + +Below stairs the men closing the entrance to the passage with brick, +having caught snatches of the servants' gossip, talked of what they heard +among themselves as they did their work. + +"Ay, a noble lady indeed," they said. "For 'tis not a woman's way to be +kindly with the cast-off fancy of a man, even when she does not want him +herself. He was her own worshipper for many a day, Sir John; and before +she took the old earl 'twas said that for a space people believed she +loved him. She was but fifteen and a high mettled beauty; and he as +handsome as she, and had a blue eye that would melt any woman--but at +sixteen he was a town rake, and such tricks as this one he hath played +since he was a lad. 'Tis well indeed for this poor thing her ladyship +hath seen her. She hath promised to protect her, and sends her down to +Dunstanwolde with her mother this very week. Would all fine ladies were +of her kind. To hear such things of her puts a man in the humour to do +her work well." + + + + +CHAPTER XX--A noble marriage + + +When the duke came back from France, and to pay his first eager visit to +his bride that was to be, her ladyship's lacqueys led him not to the +Panelled Parlour, but to a room which he had not entered before, it being +one she had had the fancy to have remodelled and made into a beautiful +closet for herself, her great wealth rendering it possible for her to +accomplish changes without the loss of time the owners of limited purses +are subjected to in the carrying out of plans. This room she had made as +unlike the Panelled Parlour as two rooms would be unlike one another. Its +panellings were white, its furnishings were bright and delicate, its +draperies flowered with rosebuds tied in clusters with love-knots of pink +and blue; it had a large bow-window, through which the sunlight streamed, +and it was blooming with great rose-bowls overrunning with sweetness. + +From a seat in the morning sunshine among the flowers and plants in the +bow-window, there rose a tall figure in a snow-white robe--a figure like +that of a beautiful stately girl who was half an angel. It was my lady, +who came to him with blushing cheeks and radiant shining eyes, and was +swept into his arms in such a passion of love and blessed tenderness as +Heaven might have smiled to see. + +"My love! my love!" he breathed. "My life! my life and soul!" + +"My Gerald!" she cried. "My Gerald--let me say it on your breast a +thousand times!" + +"My wife!" he said--"so soon my wife and all my own until life's end." + +"Nay, nay," she cried, her cheek pressed to his own, "through all +eternity, for Love's life knows no end." + +As it had seemed to her poor lord who had died, so it seemed to this man +who lived and so worshipped her--that the wonder of her sweetness was a +thing to marvel at with passionate reverence. Being a man of greater +mind and poetic imagination than Dunstanwolde, and being himself adored +by her, as that poor gentleman had not had the good fortune to be, he had +ten thousand-fold the power and reason to see the tender radiance of her. +As she was taller than other women, so her love seemed higher and +greater, and as free from any touch of earthly poverty of feeling as her +beauty was from any flaw. In it there could be no doubt, no pride; it +could be bounded by no limit, measured by no rule, its depths sounded by +no plummet. + +His very soul was touched by her great longing to give to him the +feeling, and to feel herself, that from the hour that she had become his, +her past life was a thing blotted out. + +"I am a new created thing," she said; "until you called me 'Love' I had +no life! All before was darkness. 'Twas you, my Gerald, who said, 'Let +there be light, and there was light.'" + +"Hush, hush, sweet love," he said. "Your words would make me too near +God's self." + +"Sure Love is God," she cried, her hands upon his shoulders, her face +uplifted. "What else? Love we know; Love we worship and kneel to; Love +conquers us and gives us Heaven. Until I knew it, I believed naught. Now +I kneel each night and pray, and pray, but to be pardoned and made +worthy." + +Never before, it was true, had she knelt and prayed, but from this time +no nun in her convent knelt oftener or prayed more ardently, and her +prayer was ever that the past might be forgiven her, the future blessed, +and she taught how to so live that there should be no faintest shadow in +the years to come. + +"I know not What is above me," she said. "I cannot lie and say I love It +and believe, but if there is aught, sure It must be a power which is +great, else had the world not been so strange a thing, and I--and those +who live in it--and if He made us, He must know He is to blame when He +has made us weak or evil. And He must understand why we have been so +made, and when we throw ourselves into the dust before Him, and pray for +help and pardon, surely--surely He will lend an ear! We know naught, we +have been told naught; we have but an old book which has been handed down +through strange hands and strange tongues, and may be but poor history. +We have so little, and we are threatened so; but for love's sake I will +pray the poor prayers we are given, and for love's sake there is no dust +too low for me to lie in while I plead." + +This was the strange truth--though 'twas not so strange if the world +feared not to admit such things--that through her Gerald, who was but +noble and high-souled man, she was led to bow before God's throne as the +humblest and holiest saint bows, though she had not learned belief and +only had learned love. + +"But life lasts so short a while," she said to Osmonde. "It seems so +short when it is spent in such joy as this; and when the day comes--for, +oh! Gerald, my soul sees it already--when the day comes that I kneel by +your bedside and see your eyes close, or you kneel by mine, it _must_ be +that the one who waits behind shall know the parting is not all." + +"It could not be all, beloved," Osmonde said. "Love is sure, eternal." + +Often in these blissful hours her way was almost like a child's, she was +so tender and so clinging. At times her beauteous, great eyes were full +of an imploring which made them seem soft with tears, and thus they were +now as she looked up at him. + +"I will do all I can," she said. "I will obey every law, I will pray +often and give alms, and strive to be dutiful and--holy, that in the end +He will not thrust me from you; that I may stay near--even in the lowest +place, even in the lowest--that I may see your face and know that you see +mine. We are so in His power, He can do aught with us; but I will so +obey Him and so pray that He will let me in." + +To Anne she went with curious humility, questioning her as to her +religious duties and beliefs, asking her what books she read, and what +services she attended. + +"All your life you have been a religious woman," she said. "I used to +think it folly, but now--" + +"But now--" said Anne. + +"I know not what to think," she answered. "I would learn." + +But when she listened to Anne's simple homilies, and read her weighty +sermons, they but made her restless and unsatisfied. + +"Nay, 'tis not that," she said one day, with a deep sigh. "'Tis more +than that; 'tis deeper, and greater, and your sermons do not hold it. +They but set my brain to questioning and rebellion." + +But a short time elapsed before the marriage was solemnised, and such a +wedding the world of fashion had not taken part in for years, 'twas said. +Royalty honoured it; the greatest of the land were proud to count +themselves among the guests; the retainers, messengers, and company of +the two great houses were so numerous that in the west end of the town +the streets wore indeed quite a festal air, with the passing to and fro +of servants and gentlefolk with favours upon their arms. + +'Twas to the Tower of Camylott, the most beautiful and remote of the +bridegroom's several notable seats, that they removed their household, +when the irksomeness of the extended ceremonies and entertainments were +over--for these they were of too distinguished rank to curtail as lesser +personages might have done. But when all things were over, the stately +town houses closed, and their equipages rolled out beyond the sight of +town into the country roads, the great duke and his great duchess sat +hand in hand, gazing into each other's eyes with as simple and ardent a +joy as they had been but young 'prentice and country maid, flying to hide +from the world their love. + +"There is no other woman who is so like a queen," Osmonde said, with +tenderest smiling. "And yet your eyes wear a look so young in these days +that they are like a child's. In all their beauty, I have never seen +them so before." + +"It is because I am a new created thing, as I have told you, love," she +answered, and leaned towards him. "Do you not know I never was a child. +I bring myself to you new born. Make of me then what a woman should +be--to be beloved of husband and of God. Teach me, my Gerald. I am your +child and servant." + +'Twas ever thus, that her words when they were such as these were ended +upon his breast as she was swept there by his impassioned arm. She was +so goddess-like and beautiful a being, her life one strangely dominant +and brilliant series of triumphs, and yet she came to him with such +softness and humility of passion, that scarcely could he think himself a +waking man. + +"Surely," he said, "it is a thing too wondrous and too full of joy's +splendour to be true." + +In the golden afternoon, when the sun was deepening and mellowing towards +its setting, they and their retinue entered Camylott. The bells pealed +from the grey belfry of the old church; the villagers came forth in clean +smocks and Sunday cloaks of scarlet, and stood in the street and by the +roadside curtseying and baring their heads with rustic cheers; little +country girls with red cheeks threw posies before the horses' feet, and +into the equipage itself when they were of the bolder sort. Their +chariot passed beneath archways of flowers and boughs, and from the +battlements of the Tower of Camylott there floated a flag in the soft +wind. + +"God save your Graces," the simple people cried. "God give your Graces +joy and long life! Lord, what a beautiful pair they be. And though her +Grace was said to be a proud lady, how sweetly she smiles at a poor body. +God love ye, madam! Madam, God love ye!" + +Her Grace of Osmonde leaned forward in her equipage and smiled at the +people with the face of an angel. + +"I will teach them to love me, Gerald," she said. "I have not had love +enough." + +"Has not all the world loved you?" he said. + +"Nay," she answered, "only you, and Dunstanwolde and Anne." + +Late at night they walked together on the broad terrace before the Tower. +The blue-black vault of heaven above them was studded with myriads of +God's brilliants; below them was spread out the beauty of the land, the +rolling plains, the soft low hills, the forests and moors folded and +hidden in the swathing robe of the night; from the park and gardens +floated upward the freshness of acres of thick sward and deep fern +thicket, the fragrance of roses and a thousand flowers, the tender +sighing of the wind through the huge oaks and beeches bordering the +avenues, and reigning like kings over the seeming boundless grassy +spaces. + +As lovers have walked since the days of Eden they walked together, no +longer duke and duchess, but man and woman--near to Paradise as human +beings may draw until God breaks the chain binding them to earth; and, +indeed, it would seem that such hours are given to the straining human +soul that it may know that somewhere perfect joy must be, since sometimes +the gates are for a moment opened that Heaven's light may shine through, +so that human eyes may catch glimpses of the white and golden glories +within. + +His arm held her, she leaned against him, their slow steps so harmonising +the one with the other that they accorded with the harmony of music; the +nightingales trilling and bubbling in the rose trees were not affrighted +by the low murmur of their voices; perchance, this night they were so +near to Nature that the barriers were o'erpassed, and they and the +singers were akin. + +"Oh! to be a woman," Clorinda murmured. "To be a woman at last. All +other things I have been, and have been called 'Huntress,' 'Goddess,' +'Beauty,' 'Empress,' 'Conqueror,'--but never 'Woman.' And had our paths +not crossed, I think I never could have known what 'twas to be one, for +to be a woman one must close with the man who is one's mate. It must not +be that one looks down, or only pities or protects and guides; and only +to a few a mate seems given. And I--Gerald, how dare I walk thus at your +side and feel your heart so beat near mine, and know you love me, and so +worship you--so worship you--" + +She turned and threw herself upon his breast, which was so near. + +"Oh, woman! woman!" he breathed, straining her close. "Oh, woman who is +mine, though I am but man." + +"We are but one," she said; "one breath, one soul, one thought, and one +desire. Were it not so, I were not woman and your wife, nor you man and +my soul's lover as you are. If it were not so, we were still apart, +though we were wedded a thousand times. Apart, what are we but like +lopped-off limbs; welded together, we are--_this_." And for a moment +they spoke not, and a nightingale on the rose vine, clambering o'er the +terrace's balustrade, threw up its little head and sang as if to the +myriads of golden stars. They stood and listened, hand in hand, her +sweet breast rose and fell, her lovely face was lifted to the bespangled +sky. + +"Of all this," she said, "I am a part, as I am a part of you. To-night, +as the great earth throbs, and as the stars tremble, and as the wind +sighs, so I, being woman, throb and am tremulous and sigh also. The +earth lives for the sun, and through strange mysteries blooms forth each +season with fruits and flowers; love is my sun, and through its +sacredness I may bloom too, and be as noble as the earth and that it +bears." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--An heir is born + + +In a fair tower whose windows looked out upon spreading woods, and rich +lovely plains stretching to the freshness of the sea, Mistress Anne had +her abode which her duchess sister had given to her for her own living in +as she would. There she dwelt and prayed and looked on the new life +which so beauteously unfolded itself before her day by day, as the leaves +of a great tree unfold from buds and become noble branches, housing birds +and their nests, shading the earth and those sheltering beneath them, +braving centuries of storms. + +To this simile her simple mind oft reverted, for indeed it seemed to her +that naught more perfect and more noble in its high likeness to pure +Nature and the fulfilling of God's will than the passing days of these +two lives could be. + +"As the first two lived--Adam and Eve in their garden of Eden--they seem +to me," she used to say to her own heart; "but the Tree of Knowledge was +not forbidden them, and it has taught them naught ignoble." + +As she had been wont to watch her sister from behind the ivy of her +chamber windows, so she often watched her now, though there was no fear +in her hiding, only tenderness, it being a pleasure to her full of wonder +and reverence to see this beautiful and stately pair go lovingly and in +high and gentle converse side by side, up and down the terrace, through +the paths, among the beds of flowers, under the thick branched trees and +over the sward's softness. + +"It is as if I saw Love's self, and dwelt with it--the love God's nature +made," she said, with gentle sighs. + +For if these two had been great and beauteous before, it seemed in these +days as if life and love glowed within them, and shone through their mere +bodies as a radiant light shines through alabaster lamps. The strength +of each was so the being of the other that no thought could take form in +the brain of one without the other's stirring with it. + +"Neither of us dare be ignoble," Osmonde said, "for 'twould make poor and +base the one who was not so in truth." + +"'Twas not the way of my Lady Dunstanwolde to make a man feel that he +stood in church," a frivolous court wit once said, "but in sooth her +Grace of Osmonde has a look in her lustrous eyes which accords not with +scandalous stories and playhouse jests." + +And true it was that when they went to town they carried with them the +illumining of the pure fire which burned within their souls, and bore it +all unknowing in the midst of the trivial or designing world, which knew +not what it was that glowed about them, making things bright which had +seemed dull, and revealing darkness where there had been brilliant glare. + +They returned not to the house which had been my Lord of Dunstanwolde's, +but went to the duke's own great mansion, and there lived splendidly and +in hospitable state. Royalty honoured them, and all the wits came there, +some of those gentlemen who writ verses and dedications being by no means +averse to meeting noble lords and ladies, and finding in their loves and +graces material which might be useful. 'Twas not only Mr. Addison and +Mr. Steele, Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope, who were made welcome in the stately +rooms, but others who were more humble, not yet having won their spurs, +and how these worshipped her Grace for the generous kindness which was +not the fashion, until she set it, among great ladies, their odes and +verses could scarce express. + +"They are so poor," she said to her husband. "They are so poor, and yet +in their starved souls there is a thing which can less bear flouting than +the dull content which rules in others. I know not whether 'tis a curse +or a boon to be born so. 'Tis a bitter thing when the bird that flutters +in them has only little wings. All the more should those who are strong +protect and comfort them." + +She comforted so many creatures. In strange parts of the town, where no +other lady would have dared to go to give alms, it was rumoured that she +went and did noble things privately. In dark kennels, where thieves hid +and vagrants huddled, she carried her beauty and her stateliness, the +which when they shone on the poor rogues and victims housed there seemed +like the beams of the warm and golden sun. + +Once in a filthy hovel in a black alley she came upon a poor girl dying +of a loathsome ill, and as she stood by her bed of rags she heard in her +delirium the uttering of one man's name again and again, and when she +questioned those about she found that the sufferer had been a little +country wench enticed to town by this man for a plaything, and in a few +weeks cast off to give birth to a child in the almshouse, and then go +down to the depths of vice in the kennel. + +"What is the name she says?" her Grace asked the hag nearest to her, and +least maudlin with liquor. "I would be sure I heard it aright." + +"'Tis the name of a gentleman, your ladyship may be sure," the beldam +answered; "'tis always the name of a gentleman. And this is one I know +well, for I have heard more than one poor soul mumbling it and raving at +him in her last hours. One there was, and I knew her, a pretty rosy +thing in her country days, not sixteen, and distraught with love for him, +and lay in the street by his door praying him to take her back when he +threw her off, until the watch drove her away. And she was so mad with +love and grief she killed her girl child when 'twas born i' the kennel, +sobbing and crying that it should not live to be like her and bear +others. And she was condemned to death, and swung for it on Tyburn Tree. +And, Lord! how she cried his name as she jolted on her coffin to the +gallows, and when the hangman put the rope round her shuddering little +fair neck. 'Oh, John,' screams she, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, +'tis God should be forgiven for letting thee to live and me to die like +this.' Aye, 'twas a bitter sight! She was so little and so young, and +so affrighted. The hangman could scarce hold her. I was i' the midst o' +the crowd and cried to her to strive to stand still, 'twould be the +sooner over. But that she could not. 'Oh, John,' she screams, 'John +Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis God should be forgiven for letting +thee to live and me to die like this!'" + +Till the last hour of the poor creature who lay before her when she heard +this thing, her Grace of Osmonde saw that she was tended, took her from +her filthy hovel, putting her in a decent house and going to her day by +day, until she received her last breath, holding her hand while the poor +wench lay staring up at her beauteous face and her great deep eyes, whose +lustrousness held such power to sustain, protect, and comfort. + +"Be not afraid, poor soul," she said, "be not afraid. I will stay near +thee. Soon all will end in sleep, and if thou wakest, sure there will be +Christ who died, and wipes all tears away. Hear me say it to thee for a +prayer," and she bent low and said it soft and clear into the deadening +ear, "He wipes all tears away--He wipes all tears away." + +The great strength she had used in the old days to conquer and subdue, to +win her will and to defend her way, seemed now a power but to protect the +suffering and uphold the weak, and this she did, not alone in hovels but +in the brilliant court and world of fashion, for there she found +suffering and weakness also, all the more bitter and sorrowful since it +dared not cry aloud. The grandeur of her beauty, the elevation of her +rank, the splendour of her wealth would have made her a protector of +great strength, but that which upheld all those who turned to her was +that which dwelt within the high soul of her, the courage and power of +love for all things human which bore upon itself, as if upon an eagle's +outspread wings, the woes dragging themselves broken and halting upon +earth. The starving beggar in the kennel felt it, and, not knowing +wherefore, drew a longer, deeper breath, as if of purer, more exalted +air; the poor poet in his garret was fed by it, and having stood near or +spoken to her, went back to his lair with lightening eyes and soul warmed +to believe that the words his Muse might speak the world might stay to +hear. + +From the hour she stayed the last moments of John Oxon's victim she set +herself a work to do. None knew it but herself at first, and later Anne, +for 'twas done privately. From the hag who had told her of the poor +girl's hanging upon Tyburn Tree, she learned things by close questioning, +which to the old woman's dull wit seemed but the curiousness of a great +lady, and from others who stood too deep in awe of her to think of her as +a mere human being, she gathered clues which led her far in the tracing +of the evils following one wicked, heartless life. Where she could hear +of man, woman, or child on whom John Oxon's sins had fallen, or who had +suffered wrong by him, there she went to help, to give light, to give +comfort and encouragement. Strangely, as it seemed to them, and as if +done by the hand of Heaven, the poor tradesmen he had robbed were paid +their dues, youth he had led into evil ways was checked mysteriously and +set in better paths; women he had dragged downward were given aid and +chance of peace or happiness; children he had cast upon the world, +unfathered, and with no prospect but the education of the gutter, and a +life of crime, were cared for by a powerful unseen hand. The pretty +country girl saved by his death, protected by her Grace, and living +innocently at Dunstanwolde, memory being merciful to youth, forgot him, +gained back her young roses, and learned to smile and hope as though he +had been but a name. + +"Since 'twas I who killed him," said her Grace to her inward soul, "'tis +I must live his life which I took from him, and making it better I may be +forgiven--if there is One who dares to say to the poor thing He made, 'I +will not forgive.'" + +Surely it was said there had never been lives so beautiful and noble as +those the Duke of Osmonde and his lady lived as time went by. The Tower +of Camylott, where they had spent the first months of their wedded life, +they loved better than any other of their seats, and there they spent as +much time as their duties of Court and State allowed them. It was indeed +a splendid and beautiful estate, the stately tower being built upon an +eminence, and there rolling out before it the most lovely land in +England, moorland and hills, thick woods and broad meadows, the edge of +the heather dipping to show the soft silver of the sea. + +Here was this beauteous woman chatelaine and queen, wife of her husband +as never before, he thought, had wife blessed and glorified the existence +of mortal man. All her great beauty she gave to him in tender, joyous +tribute; all her great gifts of mind and wit and grace it seemed she +valued but as they were joys to him; in his stately households in town +and country she reigned a lovely empress, adored and obeyed with +reverence by every man or woman who served her and her lord. Among the +people on his various estates she came and went a tender goddess of +benevolence. When she appeared amid them in the first months of her +wedded life, the humble souls regarded her with awe not unmixed with +fear, having heard such wild stories of her youth at her father's house, +and of her proud state and bitter wit in the great London world when she +had been my Lady Dunstanwolde; but when she came among them all else was +forgotten in their wonder at her graciousness and noble way. + +"To see her come into a poor body's cottage, so tall and grand a lady, +and with such a carriage as she hath," they said, hobnobbing together in +their talk of her, "looking as if a crown of gold should sit on her high +black head, and then to hear her gentle speech and see the look in her +eyes as if she was but a simple new-married girl, full of her joy, and +her heart big with the wish that all other women should be as happy as +herself, it is, forsooth, a beauteous sight to see." + +"Ay, and no hovel too poor for her, and no man or woman too sinful," was +said again. + +"Heard ye how she found that poor wench of Haylits lying sobbing among +the fern in the Tower woods, and stayed and knelt beside her to hear her +trouble? The poor soul has gone to ruin at fourteen, and her father, +finding her out, beat her and thrust her from his door, and her Grace +coming through the wood at sunset--it being her way to walk about for +mere pleasure as though she had no coach to ride in--the girl says she +came through the golden glow as if she had been one of God's angels--and +she kneeled and took the poor wench in her arms--as strong as a man, +Betty says, but as soft as a young mother--and she said to her things +surely no mortal lady ever said before--that she knew naught of a surety +of what God's true will might be, or if His laws were those that have +been made by man concerning marriage by priests saying common words, but +that she surely knew of a man whose name was Christ, and He had taught +love and helpfulness and pity, and for His sake, He having earned our +trust in Him, whether He was God or man, because He hung and died in +awful torture on the Cross--for His sake all of us must love and help and +pity--'I you, poor Betty,' were her very words, 'and you me.' And then +she went to the girl's father and mother, and so talked to them that she +brought them to weeping, and begging Betty to come home; and also she +went to her sweetheart, Tom Beck, and made so tender a story to him of +the poor pretty wench whose love for him had brought her to such trouble, +that she stirred him up to falling in love again, which is not man's way +at such times, and in a week's time he and Betty went to church together, +her Grace setting them up in a cottage on the estate." + +"I used all my wit and all my tenderest words to make a picture that +would fire and touch him, Gerald," her Grace said, sitting at her +husband's side, in a great window, from which they often watched the +sunset in the valley spread below; "and that with which I am so strong +sometimes--I know not what to call it, but 'tis a power people bend to, +that I know--that I used upon him to waken his dull soul and brain. Whose +fault is it that they are dull? Poor lout, he was born so, as I was born +strong and passionate, and as you were born noble and pure and high. I +led his mind back to the past, when he had been made happy by the sight +of Betty's little smiling, blushing face, and when he had kissed her and +made love in the hayfields. And this I said--though 'twas not a thing I +have learned from any chaplain--that when 'twas said he should make an +honest woman of her, it was _my_ thought that she had been honest from +the first, being too honest to know that the world was not so, and that +even the man a woman loved with all her soul, might be a rogue, and have +no honesty in him. And at last--'twas when I talked to him about the +child--and that I put my whole soul's strength in--he burst out a-crying +like a schoolboy, and said indeed she was a fond little thing and had +loved him, and he had loved her, and 'twas a shame he had so done by her, +and he had not meant it at the first, but she was so simple, and he had +been a villain, but if he married her now, he would be called a fool, and +laughed at for his pains. Then was I angry, Gerald, and felt my eyes +flash, and I stood up tall and spoke fiercely: 'Let them dare,' I +said--'let any man or woman dare, and then will they see what his Grace +will say.'" + +Osmonde drew her to his breast, laughing into her lovely eyes. + +"Nay, 'tis not his Grace who need be called on," he said; "'tis her Grace +they love and fear, and will obey; though 'tis the sweetest, womanish +thing that you should call on me when you are power itself, and can so +rule all creatures you come near." + +"Nay," she said, with softly pleading face, "let me not rule. Rule for +me, or but help me; I so long to say your name that they may know I speak +but as your wife." + +"Who is myself," he answered--"my very self." + +"Ay," she said, with a little nod of her head, "that I know--that I am +yourself; and 'tis because of this that one of us cannot be proud with +the other, for there is no other, there is only one. And I am wrong to +say, 'Let me not rule,' for 'tis as if I said, 'You must not rule.' I +meant surely, 'God give me strength to be as noble in ruling as our love +should make me.' But just as one tree is a beech and one an oak, just as +the grass stirs when the summer wind blows over it, so a woman is a +woman, and 'tis her nature to find her joy in saying such words to the +man who loves her, when she loves as I do. Her heart is so full that she +must joy to say her husband's name as that of one she cannot think +without--who is her life as is her blood and her pulses beating. 'Tis a +joy to say your name, Gerald, as it will be a joy"--and she looked far +out across the sun-goldened valley and plains, with a strange, heavenly +sweet smile--"as it will be a joy to say our child's--and put his little +mouth to my full breast." + +"Sweet love," he cried, drawing her by the hand that he might meet the +radiance of her look--"heart's dearest!" + +She did not withhold her lovely eyes from him, but withdrew them from the +sunset's mist of gold, and the clouds piled as it were at the gates of +heaven, and they seemed to bring back some of the far-off glory with +them. Indeed, neither her smile nor she seemed at that moment to be +things of earth. She held out her fair, noble arms, and he sprang to +her, and so they stood, side beating against side. + +"Yes, love," she said--"yes, love--and I have prayed, my Gerald, that I +may give you sons who shall be men like you. But when I give you women +children, I shall pray with all my soul for them--that they may be just +and strong and noble, and life begin for them as it began not for me." + +* * * * * + +In the morning of a spring day when the cuckoos cried in the woods, and +May blossomed thick, white and pink, in all the hedges, the bells in the +grey church-steeple at Camylott rang out a joyous, jangling peal, telling +all the village that the heir had been born at the Tower. Children +stopped in their play to listen, men at their work in field and barn; +good gossips ran out of their cottage door, wiping their arms dry, from +their tubs and scrubbing-buckets, their honest red faces broadening into +maternal grins. + +"Ay, 'tis well over, that means surely," one said to the other; "and a +happy day has begun for the poor lady--though God knows she bore herself +queenly to the very last, as if she could have carried her burden for +another year, and blenched not a bit as other women do. Bless mother and +child, say I." + +"And 'tis an heir," said another. "She promised us that we should know +almost as quick as she did, and commanded old Rowe to ring a peal, and +then strike one bell loud between if 'twere a boy, and two if 'twere a +girl child. 'Tis a boy, heard you, and 'twas like her wit to invent such +a way to tell us." + +In four other villages the chimes rang just as loud and merrily, and the +women talked, and blessed her Grace and her young child, and casks of ale +were broached, and oxen roasted, and work stopped, and dancers footed it +upon the green. + +"Surely the new-born thing comes here to happiness," 'twas said +everywhere, "for never yet was woman loved as is his mother." + +In her stately bed her Grace the duchess lay, with the face of the Mother +Mary, and her man-child drinking from her breast. The duke walked softly +up and down, so full of joy that he could not sit still. When he had +entered first, it was his wife's self who had sate upright in her bed, +and herself laid his son within his arms. + +"None other shall lay him there," she said, "I have given him to you. He +is a great child, but he has not taken from me my strength." + +He was indeed a great child, even at his first hour, of limbs and +countenance so noble that nurses and physicians regarded him amazed. He +was the offspring of a great love, of noble bodies and great souls. Did +such powers alone create human beings, the earth would be peopled with a +race of giants. + +Amid the veiled spring sunshine and the flower-scented silence, broken +only by the twittering of birds nesting in the ivy, her Grace lay soft +asleep, her son resting on her arm, when Anne stole to look at her and +her child. Through the night she had knelt praying in her chamber, and +now she knelt again. She kissed the new-born thing's curled rose-leaf +hand and the lace frill of his mother's night-rail. She dared not +further disturb them. + +"Sure God forgives," she breathed--"for Christ's sake. He would not give +this little tender thing a punishment to bear." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--Mother Anne + + +There was no punishment. The tender little creature grew as a blossom +grows from bud to fairest bloom. His mother flowered as he, and spent +her days in noble cherishing of him and tender care. Such motherhood and +wifehood as were hers were as fair statues raised to Nature's self. + +"Once I thought that I was under ban," she said to her lord in one of +their sweetest hours; "but I have been given love and a life, and so I +know it cannot be. Do I fill all your being, Gerald?" + +"All, all!" he cried, "my sweet, sweet woman." + +"Leave I no longing unfulfilled, no duty undone, to you, dear love, to +the world, to human suffering I might aid? I pray Christ with all +passionate humbleness that I may not." + +"He grants your prayer," he answered, his eyes moist with worshipping +tenderness. + +"And this white soul given to me from the outer bounds we know not--it +has no stain; and the little human body it wakened to life in--think you +that Christ will help me to fold them in love high and pure enough, and +teach the human body to do honour to its soul? 'Tis not monkish scorn of +itself that I would teach the body; it is so beautiful and noble a thing, +and so full of the power of joy. Surely That which made it--in His own +image--would not that it should despise itself and its own wonders, but +do them reverence, and rejoice in them nobly, knowing all their seasons +and their changes, counting not youth folly, and manhood sinful, or age +aught but gentle ripeness passing onward? I pray for a great soul, and +great wit, and greater power to help this fair human thing to grow, and +love, and live." + +These had been born and had rested hid within her when she lay a babe +struggling 'neath her dead mother's corpse. Through the darkness of +untaught years they had grown but slowly, being so unfitly and unfairly +nourished; but Life's sun but falling on her, they seemed to strive to +fair fruition with her days. + +'Twas not mere love she gave her offspring--for she bore others as years +passed, until she was the mother of four sons and two girls, children of +strength and beauty as noted as her own; she gave them of her constant +thought, and an honour of their humanity such as taught them reverence of +themselves as of all other human things. Their love for her was such a +passion as their father bore her. She was the noblest creature that they +knew; her beauty, her great unswerving love, her truth, were things +bearing to their child eyes the unchangingness of God's stars in heaven. + +"Why is she not the Queen?" a younger one asked his father once, having +been to London and seen the Court. "The Queen is not so beautiful and +grand as she, and she could so well reign over the people. She is always +just and honourable, and fears nothing." + +From her side Mistress Anne was rarely parted. In her fair retreat at +Camylott she had lived a life all undisturbed by outward things. When +the children were born strange joy came to her. + +"Be his mother also," the duchess had said when she had drawn the clothes +aside to show her first-born sleeping in her arm. "You were made to be +the mother of things, Anne." + +"Nay, or they had been given to me," Anne had answered. + +"Mine I will share with you," her Grace had said, lifting her Madonna +face. "Kiss me, sister--kiss him, too, and bless him. Your life has +been so innocent it must be good that you should love and guard him." + +'Twas sweet to see the wit she showed in giving to poor Anne the feeling +that she shared her motherhood. She shared her tenderest cares and +duties with her. Together they bathed and clad the child in the morning, +this being their high festival, in which the nurses shared but in the +performance of small duties. Each day they played with him and laughed +as women will at such dear times, kissing his grand round limbs, crying +out at their growth, worshipping his little rosy feet, and smothering him +with caresses. And then they put him to sleep, Anne sitting close while +his mother fed him from her breast until his small red mouth parted and +slowly released her. + +When he could toddle about and was beginning to say words, there was a +morning when she bore him to Anne's tower that they might joy in him +together, as was their way. It was a beautiful thing to see her walk +carrying him in the strong and lovely curve of her arm as if his sturdy +babyhood were of no more weight than a rose, and he cuddling against her, +clinging and crowing, his wide brown eyes shining with delight. + +"He has come to pay thee court, Anne," she said. "He is a great gallant, +and knows how we are his loving slaves. He comes to say his new word +that I have taught him." + +She set him down where he stood holding to Anne's knee and showing his +new pearl teeth, in a rosy grin; his mother knelt beside him, beginning +her coaxing. + +"Who is she?" she said, pointing with her finger at Anne's face, her own +full of lovely fear lest the child should not speak rightly his lesson. +"What is her name? Mammy's man say--" and she mumbled softly with her +crimson mouth at his ear. + +The child looked up at Anne, with baby wit and laughter in his face, and +stammered sweetly-- + +"Muz--Muzzer--Anne," he said, and then being pleased with his cleverness, +danced on his little feet and said it over and over. + +Clorinda caught him up and set him on Anne's lap. + +"Know you what he calls you?" she said. "'Tis but a mumble, his little +tongue is not nimble enough for clearness, but he says it his pretty +best. 'Tis Mother Anne, he says--'tis Mother Anne." + +And then they were in each other's arms, the child between them, he +kissing both and clasping both, with little laughs of joy as if they were +but one creature. + +Each child born they clasped and kissed so, and were so clasped and +kissed by; each one calling the tender unwed woman "Mother Anne," and +having a special lovingness for her, she being the creature each one +seemed to hover about with innocent protection and companionship. + +The wonder of Anne's life grew deeper to her hour by hour, and where she +had before loved, she learned to worship, for 'twas indeed worship that +her soul was filled with. She could not look back and believe that she +had not dreamed a dream of all the fears gone by and that they held. +This--this was true--the beauty of these days, the love of them, the +generous deeds, the sweet courtesies, and gentle words spoken. This +beauteous woman dwelling in her husband's heart, giving him all joy of +life and love, ruling queenly and gracious in his house, bearing him +noble children, and tending them with the very genius of tenderness and +wisdom. + +But in Mistress Anne herself life had never been strong; she was of the +fibre of her mother, who had died in youth, crushed by its cruel weight, +and to her, living had been so great and terrible a thing. There had not +been given to her the will to battle with the Fate that fell to her, the +brain to reason and disentangle problems, or the power to set them aside. +So while her Grace of Osmonde seemed but to gain greater state and beauty +in her ripening, her sister's frail body grew more frail, and seemed to +shrink and age. Yet her face put on a strange worn sweetness, and her +soft, dull eyes had a look almost like a saint's who looks at heaven. She +prayed much, and did many charitable works both in town and country. She +read her books of devotion, and went much to church, sitting with a +reverend face through many a dull and lengthy sermon she would have felt +it sacrilegious to think of with aught but pious admiration. In the +middle of the night it was her custom to rise and offer up prayers +through the dark hours. She was an humble soul who greatly feared and +trembled before her God. + +"I waken in the night sometimes," the fair, tall child Daphne said once +to her mother, "and Mother Anne is there--she kneels and prays beside my +bed. She kneels and prays so by each one of us many a night." + +"'Tis because she is so pious a woman and so loves us," said young John, +in his stately, generous way. The house of Osmonde had never had so fine +and handsome a creature for its heir. He o'ertopped every boy of his age +in height, and the bearing of his lovely youthful body was masculine +grace itself. + +The town and the Court knew these children, and talked of their beauty +and growth as they had talked of their mother's. + +"To be the mate of such a woman, the father of such heirs, is a fate a +man might pray God for," 'twas said. "Love has not grown stale with +them. Their children are the very blossoms of it. Her eyes are deeper +pools of love each year." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be +done to each thing He has made, by each who bears His image" + + +'Twas in these days Sir Jeoffry came to his end, it being in such way as +had been often prophesied; and when this final hour came, there was but +one who could give him comfort, and this was the daughter whose youth he +had led with such careless evilness to harm. + +If he had wondered at her when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde, as her +Grace of Osmonde he regarded her with heavy awe. Never had she been able +to lead him to visit her at her house in town or at any other which was +her home. "'Tis all too grand for me, your Grace," he would say; "I am a +country yokel, and have hunted and drank, and lived too hard to look well +among town gentlemen. I must be drunk at dinner, and when I am in liquor +I am no ornament to a duchess's drawing-room. But what a woman you have +grown," he would say, staring at her and shaking his head. "Each time I +clap eyes on you 'tis to marvel at you, remembering what a baggage you +were, and how you kept from slipping by the way. There was Jack Oxon, +now," he added one day--"after you married Dunstanwolde, I heard a pretty +tale of Jack--that he had made a wager among his friends in town--he was +a braggart devil, Jack--that he would have you, though you were so +scornful; and knowing him to be a liar, his fellows said that unless he +could bring back a raven lock six feet long to show them, he had lost his +bet, for they would believe no other proof. And finely they scoffed at +him when he came back saying that he had had one, but had hid it away for +safety when he was drunk, and could not find it again. They so flouted +and jeered at him that swords were drawn, and blood as well. But though +he was a beauty and a crafty rake-hell fellow, you were too sharp for +him. Had you not had so shrewd a wit and strong a will, you would not +have been the greatest duchess in England, Clo, as well as the finest +woman." + +"Nay," she answered--"in those days--nay, let us not speak of them! I +would blot them out--out." + +As time went by, and the years spent in drink and debauchery began to +tell even on the big, strong body which should have served any other man +bravely long past his threescore and ten, Sir Jeoffry drank harder and +lived more wildly, sometimes being driven desperate by dulness, his +coarse pleasures having lost their potency. + +"Liquor is not as strong as it once was," he used to grumble, "and there +are fewer things to stir a man to frolic. Lord, what roaring days and +nights a man could have thirty years ago." + +So in his efforts to emulate such nights and days, he plunged deeper and +deeper into new orgies; and one night, after a heavy day's hunting, +sitting at the head of his table with his old companions, he suddenly +leaned forward, staring with starting eyes at an empty chair in a dark +corner. His face grew purple, and he gasped and gurgled. + +"What is't, Jeoff?" old Eldershawe cried, touching his shoulder with a +shaking hand. "What's the man staring at, as if he had gone mad?" + +"Jack," cried Sir Jeoffry, his eyes still farther starting from their +sockets. "Jack! what say you? I cannot hear." + +The next instant he sprang up, shrieking, and thrusting with his hands as +if warding something off. + +"Keep back!" he yelled. "There is green mould on thee. Where hast thou +been to grow mouldy? Keep back! Where hast thou been?" + +His friends at table started up, staring at him and losing colour; he +shrieked so loud and strangely, he clutched his hair with his hands, and +fell into his chair, raving, clutching, and staring, or dashing his head +down upon the table to hide his face, and then raising it as if he could +not resist being drawn in his affright to gaze again. There was no +soothing him. He shouted, and struggled with those who would have held +him. 'Twas Jack Oxon who was there, he swore--Jack, who kept stealing +slowly nearer to him, his face and his fine clothes damp and green, he +beat at the air with mad hands, and at last fell upon the floor, and +rolled, foaming at the mouth. + +They contrived, after great strugglings, to bear him to his chamber, but +it took the united strength of all who would stay near him to keep him +from making an end of himself. By the dawn of day his boon companions +stood by him with their garments torn to tatters, their faces drenched +with sweat, and their own eyes almost starting from their sockets; the +doctor who had been sent for, coming in no hurry, but scowled and shook +his head when he beheld him. + +"He is a dead man," he said, "and the wonder is that this has not come +before. He is sodden with drink and rotten with ill-living, besides +being past all the strength of youth. He dies of the life he has lived." + +'Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could desert their +homes and pleasures and tend his horrors longer than a night. Such a +sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful spirits. + +"Lord," said Sir Chris Crowell, "to see him clutch his flesh and shriek +and mouth, is enough to make a man live sober for his remaining days," +and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder. + +"Ugh!" he said, "God grant I may make a better end. He writhes as in +hell-fire." + +"There is but one on earth who will do aught for him," said Eldershawe. +"'Tis handsome Clo, who is a duchess; but she will come and tend him, I +could swear. Even when she was a lawless devil of a child she had a way +of standing by her friends and fearing naught." + +So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many hours +as it took to drive from London, her coach stood before the door. By +this time all the household was panic-stricken and in hopeless disorder, +the women-servants scattered and shuddering in far corners of the house; +such men as could get out of the way having found work to do afield or in +the kennels, for none had nerve to stay where they could hear the +madman's shrieks and howls. + +Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her +chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom, stripped of her rich apparel, and +clad in a gown of strong blue linen, her hair wound close, her white +hands bare of any ornament, save the band of gold which was her wedding- +ring. A serving-woman might have been clad so; but the plainness of her +garb but made her height, and strength, so reveal themselves, that the +mere sight of her woke somewhat that was like to awe in the eyes of the +servants who beheld her as she passed. + +She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds, +until she reached the chamber behind whose door they were shut. Upon the +huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed, and tried to tear himself, his +great sinewy and hairy body almost stark. Two of the stable men were +striving to hold him. + +The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong white +hand upon his shuddering shoulder. + +"Father," she said, in a voice so clear, and with such a ring of steady +command, as, the men said later, might have reached a dead man's ear. +"Father, 'tis Clo!" + +Sir Jeoffry writhed his head round and glared at her, with starting eyes +and foaming mouth. + +"Who says 'tis Clo?" he shouted. "'Tis a lie! She was ever a bigger +devil than any other, though she was but a handsome wench. Jack himself +could not manage her. She beat him, and would beat him now. 'Tis a +lie!" + +All through that day and night the power of her Grace's white arm was the +thing which saved him from dashing out his brains. The two men could not +have held him, and at his greatest frenzy they observed that now and then +his bloodshot eye would glance aside at the beauteous face above him. The +sound of the word "Clo" had struck upon his brain and wakened an echo. + +She sent away the men to rest, calling for others in their places; but +leave the bedside herself she would not. 'Twas a strange thing to see +her strength and bravery, which could not be beaten down. When the +doctor came again he found her there, and changed his surly and reluctant +manner in the presence of a duchess, and one who in her close linen gown +wore such a mien. + +"You should not have left him," she said to him unbendingly, "even though +I myself can see there is little help that can be given. Thought you his +Grace and I would brook that he should die alone if we could not have +reached him?" + +Those words "his Grace and I" put a new face upon the matter, and all was +done that lay within the man's skill; but most was he disturbed +concerning the lady, who would not be sent to rest, and whose noble +consort would be justly angered if she were allowed to injure her superb +health. + +"His Grace knew what I came to do and how I should do it," the duchess +said, unbending still. "But for affairs of State which held him, he +would have been here at my side." + +She held her place throughout the second night, and that was worse than +the first--the paroxysms growing more and more awful; for Jack was within +a yard, and stretched out a green and mouldy hand, the finger-bones +showing through the flesh, the while he smiled awfully. + +At last one pealing scream rang out after another, until after making his +shuddering body into an arc resting on heels and head, the madman fell +exhausted, his flesh all quaking before the eye. Then the duchess waved +the men who helped, away. She sat upon the bed's edge close--close to +her father's body, putting her two firm hands on either of his shoulders, +holding him so, and bent down, looking into his wild face, as if she +fixed upon his very soul all the power of her wondrous will. + +"Father," she said, "look at my face. Thou canst if thou wilt. Look at +my face. Then wilt thou see 'tis Clo--and she will stand by thee." + +She kept her gaze upon his very pupils; and though 'twas at first as if +his eyes strove to break away from her look, their effort was controlled +by her steadfastness, and they wandered back at last, and her great orbs +held them. He heaved a long breath, half a big, broken sob, and lay +still, staring up at her. + +"Ay," he said, "'tis Clo! 'tis Clo!" + +The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his cheeks. +He broke forth, wailing like a child. + +"Clo--Clo," he said, "I am in hell." + +She put her hand on his breast, keeping will and eyes set on him. + +"Nay," she answered; "thou art on earth, and in thine own bed, and I am +here, and will not leave thee." + +She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in wonder at +her, but feeling in the very air about her the spell to which the madness +had given way. + +"'Twas not mere human woman who sat there," they said afterwards in the +stables among their fellows. "'Twas somewhat more. Had such a will been +in an evil thing a man's hair would have risen on his skull at the seeing +of it." + +"Go now," she said to them, "and send women to set the place in order." + +She had seen delirium and death enough in the doings of her deeds of +mercy, to know that his strength had gone and death was coming. His bed +and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, with all +made straight. Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his head and stare from +hollows, and his skin grew grey, but ever he stared only at his +daughter's face. + +"Clo," he said at last, "stay by me! Clo, go not away!" + +"I shall not go," she answered. + +She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand. It lay knotted and +gnarled and swollen-veined upon her smooth palm, and with her other hand +she stroked it. His breath came weak and quick, and fear grew in his +eyes. + +"What is it, Clo?" he said. "What is't?" + +"'Tis weakness," replied she, soothing him. "Soon you will sleep." + +"Ay," he said, with a breath like a sob. "'Tis over." + +His big body seemed to collapse, he shrank so in the bed-clothes. + +"What day o' the year is it?" he asked. + +"The tenth of August," was her answer. + +"Sixty-nine years from this day was I born," he said, "and now 'tis +done." + +"Nay," said she--"nay--God grant--" + +"Ay," he said, "done. Would there were nine and sixty more. What a man +I was at twenty. I want not to die, Clo. I want to live--to live--live, +and be young," gulping, "with strong muscle and moist flesh. Sixty-nine +years--and they are gone!" + +He clung to her hand, and stared at her with awful eyes. Through all his +life he had been but a great, strong, human carcass; and he was now but +the same carcass worn out, and at death's door. Of not one human thing +but of himself had he ever thought, not one creature but himself had he +ever loved--and now he lay at the end, harking back only to the wicked +years gone by. + +"None can bring them back," he shuddered. "Not even thou, Clo, who art +so strong. None--none! Canst pray, Clo?" with the gasp of a craven. + +"Not as chaplains do," she answered. "I believe not in a God who +clamours but for praise." + +"What dost believe in, then?" + +"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to each +thing He has made, by each who bears His image--ay, and mercy too--but +justice always, for justice is mercy's highest self." + +Who knows the mysteries of the human soul--who knows the workings of the +human brain? The God who is just alone. In this man's mind, which was +so near a simple beast's in all its movings, some remote, unborn +consciousness was surely reached and vaguely set astir by the clear words +thus spoken. + +"Clo, Clo!" he cried, "Clo, Clo!" in terror, clutching her the closer, +"what dost thou mean? In all my nine and sixty years--" and rolled his +head in agony. + +In all his nine and sixty years he had shown justice to no man, mercy to +no woman, since he had thought of none but Jeoffry Wildairs; and this +truth somehow dimly reached his long-dulled brain and wakened there. + +"Down on thy knees, Clo!" he gasped--"down on thy knees!" + +It was so horrible, the look struggling in his dying face, that she went +down upon her knees that moment, and so knelt, folding his shaking hands +within her own against her breast. + +"Thou who didst make him as he was born into Thy world," she said, "deal +with that to which Thou didst give life--and death. Show him in this +hour, which Thou mad'st also, that Thou art not Man who would have +vengeance, but that justice which is God." + +"Then--then," he gasped--"then will He damn me!" + +"He will weigh thee," she said; "and that which His own hand created will +He separate from that which was thine own wilful wrong--and this, sure, +He will teach thee how to expiate." + +"Clo," he cried again--"thy mother--she was but a girl, and died alone--I +did no justice to her!--Daphne! Daphne!" And he shook beneath the bed- +clothes, shuddering to his feet, his face growing more grey and pinched. + +"She loved thee once," Clorinda said. "She was a gentle soul, and would +not forget. She will show thee mercy." + +"Birth she went through," he muttered, "and death--alone. Birth and +death! Daphne, my girl--" And his voice trailed off to nothingness, and +he lay staring at space, and panting. + +The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though at last +he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours later he began to stir. He turned +his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze rested upon her, as she +sat fronting him. 'Twas as though he had awakened to look at her. + +"Clo!" he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, there was both +wonder and wild question in it--"Clo!" + +But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and even +as they so looked at each other his body stretched itself, his lids +fell--and he was a dead man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--The doves sate upon the window-ledge and lowly cooed and +cooed + + +When they had had ten years of happiness, Anne died. 'Twas of no violent +illness, it seemed but that through these years of joy she had been +gradually losing life. She had grown thinner and whiter, and her soft +eyes bigger and more prayerful. 'Twas in the summer, and they were at +Camylott, when one sweet day she came from the flower-garden with her +hands full of roses, and sitting down by her sister in her morning-room, +swooned away, scattering her blossoms on her lap and at her feet. + +When she came back to consciousness she looked up at the duchess with a +strange, far look, as if her soul had wandered back from some great +distance. + +"Let me be borne to bed, sister," she said. "I would lie still. I shall +not get up again." + +The look in her face was so unearthly and a thing so full of mystery, +that her Grace's heart stood still, for in some strange way she knew the +end had come. + +They bore her to her tower and laid her in her bed, when she looked once +round the room and then at her sister. + +"'Tis a fair, peaceful room," she said. "And the prayers I have prayed +in it have been answered. To-day I saw my mother, and she told me so." + +"Anne! Anne!" cried her Grace, leaning over her and gazing fearfully +into her face; for though her words sounded like delirium, her look had +no wildness in it. And yet--"Anne, Anne! you wander, love," the duchess +cried. + +Anne smiled a strange, sweet smile. "Perchance I do," she said. "I know +not truly, but I am very happy. She said that all was over, and that I +had not done wrong. She had a fair, young face, with eyes that seemed to +have looked always at the stars of heaven. She said I had done no +wrong." + +The duchess's face laid itself down upon the pillow, a river of clear +tears running down her cheeks. + +"Wrong!" she said--"you! dear one--woman of Christ's heart, if ever lived +one. You were so weak and I so strong, and yet as I look back it seems +that all of good that made me worthy to be wife and mother I learned from +your simplicity." + +Through the tower window and the ivy closing round it, the blueness of +the summer sky was heavenly fair; soft, and light white clouds floated +across the clearness of its sapphire. On this Anne's eyes were fixed +with an uplifted tenderness until she broke her silence. + +"Soon I shall be away," she said. "Soon all will be left behind. And I +would tell you that my prayers were answered--and so, sure, yours will +be." + +No man could tell what made the duchess then fall on her knees, but she +herself knew. 'Twas that she saw in the exalted dying face that turned +to hers concealing nothing more. + +"Anne! Anne!" she cried. "Sister Anne! Mother Anne of my children! You +have known--you have known all the years and kept it hid!" + +She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face in +the coverlid's folds. + +"Ay, sister," Anne said, coming a little back to earth, "and from the +first. I found a letter near the sun-dial--I guessed--I loved you--and +could do naught else but guard you. Many a day have I watched within the +rose-garden--many a day--and night--God pardon me--and night. When I +knew a letter was hid, 'twas my wont to linger near, knowing that my +presence would keep others away. And when you approached--or he--I +slipped aside and waited beyond the rose hedge--that if I heard a step, I +might make some sound of warning. Sister, I was your sentinel, and being +so, knelt while on my guard, and prayed." + +"My sentinel!" Clorinda cried. "And knowing all, you so guarded me night +and day, and prayed God's pity on my poor madness and girl's frenzy!" And +she gazed at her in amaze, and with humblest, burning tears. + +"For my own poor self as well as for you, sister, did I pray God's pity +as I knelt," said Anne. "For long I knew it not--being so ignorant--but +alas! I loved him too!--I loved him too! I have loved no man other all +my days. He was unworthy any woman's love--and I was too lowly for him +to cast a glance on; but I was a woman, and God made us so." + +Clorinda clutched her pallid hand. + +"Dear God," she cried, "you loved him!" + +Anne moved upon her pillow, drawing weakly, slowly near until her white +lips were close upon her sister's ear. + +"The night," she panted--"the night you bore him--in your arms--" + +Then did the other woman give a shuddering start and lift her head, +staring with a frozen face. + +"What! what!" she cried. + +"Down the dark stairway," the panting voice went on, "to the far cellar--I +kept watch again." + +"You kept watch--you?" the duchess gasped. + +"Upon the stair which led to the servants' place--that I might stop them +if--if aught disturbed them, and they oped their doors--that I might send +them back, telling them--it was I." + +Then stooped the duchess nearer to her, her hands clutching the coverlid, +her eyes widening. + +"Anne, Anne," she cried, "you knew the awful thing that I would hide! +That too? You knew that he was _there_!" + +Anne lay upon her pillow, her own eyes gazing out through the ivy-hung +window of her tower at the blue sky and the fair, fleecy clouds. A flock +of snow-white doves were flying back and forth across it, and one sate +upon the window's deep ledge and cooed. All was warm and perfumed with +summer's sweetness. There seemed naught between her and the uplifting +blueness, and naught of the earth was near but the dove's deep-throated +cooing and the laughter of her Grace's children floating upward from the +garden of flowers below. + +"I lie upon the brink," she said--"upon the brink, sister, and methinks +my soul is too near to God's pure justice to fear as human things fear, +and judge as earth does. She said I did no wrong. Yes, I knew." + +"And knowing," her sister cried, "you came to me _that afternoon_!" + +"To stand by that which lay hidden, that I might keep the rest away. +Being a poor creature and timorous and weak--" + +"Weak! weak!" the duchess cried, amid a greater flood of streaming +tears--"ay, I have dared to call you so, who have the heart of a great +lioness. Oh, sweet Anne--weak!" + +"'Twas love," Anne whispered. "Your love was strong, and so was mine. +That other love was not for me. I knew that my long woman's life would +pass without it--for woman's life is long, alas! if love comes not. But +you were love's self, and I worshipped you and it; and to myself I +said--praying forgiveness on my knees--that one woman should know love if +I did not. And being so poor and imperfect a thing, what mattered if I +gave my soul for you--and love, which is so great, and rules the world. +Look at the doves, sister, look at them, flying past the heavenly +blueness--and she said I did no wrong." + +Her hand was wet with tears fallen upon it, as her duchess sister knelt, +and held and kissed it, sobbing. + +"You knew, poor love, you knew!" she cried. + +"Ay, all of it I knew," Anne said--"his torture of you and the madness of +your horror. And when he forced himself within the Panelled Parlour that +day of fate, I knew he came to strike some deadly blow; and in such +anguish I waited in my chamber for the end, that when it came not, I +crept down, praying that somehow I might come between--and I went in the +room!" + +"And there--what saw you?" quoth the duchess, shuddering. "Somewhat you +must have seen, or you could not have known." + +"Ay," said Anne, "and heard!" and her chest heaved. + +"Heard!" cried Clorinda. "Great God of mercy!" + +"The room was empty, and I stood alone. It was so still I was afraid; it +seemed so like the silence of the grave; and then there came a sound--a +long and shuddering breath--but one--and then--" + +The memory brought itself too keenly back, and she fell a-shivering. + +"I heard a slipping sound, and a dead hand fell on the floor-lying +outstretched, its palm turned upwards, showing beneath the valance of the +couch." + +She threw her frail arms round her sister's neck, and as Clorinda clasped +her own, breathing gaspingly, they swayed together. + +"What did you then?" the duchess cried, in a wild whisper. + +"I prayed God keep me sane--and knelt--and looked below. I thrust it +back--the dead hand, saying aloud, 'Swoon you must not, swoon you must +not, swoon you shall not--God help! God help!'--and I saw!--the purple +mark--his eyes upturned--his fair curls spread; and I lost strength and +fell upon my side, and for a minute lay there--knowing that shudder of +breath had been the very last expelling of his being, and his hand had +fallen by its own weight." + +"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda cried, and over and over said the word, +and over again. + +"How was't--how was't?" Anne shuddered, clinging to her. "How was't +'twas done? I have so suffered, being weak--I have so prayed! God will +have mercy--but it has done me to death, this knowledge, and before I +die, I pray you tell me, that I may speak truly at God's throne." + +"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda groaned--"O God!" and having cried so, +looking up, was blanched as a thing struck with death, her eyes like a +great stag's that stands at bay. + +"Stay, stay!" she cried, with a sudden shock of horror, for a new thought +had come to her which, strangely, she had not had before. "You thought I +_murdered_ him?" + +Convulsive sobs heaved Anne's poor chest, tears sweeping her hollow +cheeks, her thin, soft hands clinging piteously to her sister's. + +"Through all these years I have known nothing," she wept--"sister, I have +known nothing but that I found him hidden there, a dead man, whom you so +hated and so feared." + +Her hands resting upon the bed's edge, Clorinda held her body upright, +such passion of wonder, love, and pitying adoring awe in her large eyes +as was a thing like to worship. + +"You thought I _murdered_ him, and loved me still," she said. "You +thought I murdered him, and still you shielded me, and gave me chance to +live, and to repent, and know love's highest sweetness. You thought I +murdered him, and yet your soul had mercy. Now do I believe in God, for +only a God could make a heart so noble." + +"And you--did not--" cried out Anne, and raised upon her elbow, her +breast panting, but her eyes growing wide with light as from stars from +heaven. "Oh, sister love--thanks be to Christ who died!" + +The duchess rose, and stood up tall and great, her arms out-thrown. + +"I think 'twas God Himself who did it," she said, "though 'twas I who +struck the blow. He drove me mad and blind, he tortured me, and thrust +to my heart's core. He taunted me with that vile thing Nature will not +let women bear, and did it in my Gerald's name, calling on him. And then +I struck with my whip, knowing nothing, not seeing, only striking, like a +goaded dying thing. He fell--he fell and lay there--and all was done!" + +"But not with murderous thought--only through frenzy and a cruel chance--a +cruel, cruel chance. And of your own will blood is not upon your hand," +Anne panted, and sank back upon her pillow. + +"With deepest oaths I swear," Clorinda said, and she spoke through her +clenched teeth, "if I had not loved, if Gerald had not been my soul's +life and I his, I would have stood upright and laughed in his face at the +devil's threats. Should I have feared? You know me. Was there a thing +on earth or in heaven or hell I feared until love rent me. 'Twould but +have fired my blood, and made me mad with fury that dares all. 'Spread +it abroad!' I would have cried to him. 'Tell it to all the world, craven +and outcast, whose vileness all men know, and see how I shall bear +myself, and how I shall drive through the town with head erect. As I +bore myself when I set the rose crown on my head, so shall I bear myself +then. And you shall see what comes!' This would I have said, and held +to it, and gloried. But I knew love, and there was an anguish that I +could not endure--that my Gerald should look at me with changed eyes, +feeling that somewhat of his rightful meed was gone. And I was all +distraught and conquered. Of ending his base life I never thought, never +at my wildest, though I had thought to end my own; but when Fate struck +the blow for me, then I swore that carrion should not taint my whole life +through. It should not--should not--for 'twas Fate's self had doomed me +to my ruin. And there it lay until the night; for this I planned, that +being of such great strength for a woman, I could bear his body in my +arms to the farthest of that labyrinth of cellars I had commanded to be +cut off from the rest and closed; and so I did when all were sleeping--but +you, poor Anne--but you! And there I laid him, and there he lies +to-day--an evil thing turned to a handful of dust." + +"It was not murder," whispered Anne--"no, it was not." She lifted to her +sister's gaze a quivering lip. "And yet once I had loved him--years I +had loved him," she said, whispering still. "And in a woman there is +ever somewhat that the mother creature feels"--the hand which held her +sister's shook as with an ague, and her poor lip quivered--"Sister, I--saw +him again!" + +The duchess drew closer as she gasped, "Again!" + +"I could not rest," the poor voice said. "He had been so base, he was so +beautiful, and so unworthy love--and he was dead,--none knowing, +untouched by any hand that even pitied him that he was so base a thing, +for that indeed is piteous when death comes and none can be repentant. +And he lay so hard, so hard upon the stones." + +Her teeth were chattering, and with a breath drawn like a wild sob of +terror, the duchess threw her arm about her and drew her nearer. + +"Sweet Anne," she shuddered--"sweet Anne--come back--you wander!" + +"Nay, 'tis not wandering," Anne said. "'Tis true, sister. There is no +night these years gone by I have not remembered it again--and seen. In +the night after that you bore him there--I prayed until the mid-hours, +when all were sleeping fast--and then I stole down--in my bare feet, that +none could hear me--and at last I found my way in the black dark--feeling +the walls until I reached that farthest door in the stone--and then I +lighted my taper and oped it." + +"Anne!" cried the duchess--"Anne, look through the tower window at the +blueness of the sky--at the blueness, Anne!" But drops of cold water had +started out and stood upon her brow. + +"He lay there in his grave--it was a little black place with its stone +walls--his fair locks were tumbled," Anne went on, whispering. "The spot +was black upon his brow--and methought he had stopped mocking, and surely +looked upon some great and awful thing which asked of him a question. I +knelt, and laid his curls straight, and his hands, and tried to shut his +eyes, but close they would not, but stared at that which questioned. And +having loved him so, I kissed his poor cheek as his mother might have +done, that he might not stand outside, having carried not one tender +human thought with him. And, oh, I prayed, sister--I prayed for his poor +soul with all my own. 'If there is one noble or gentle thing he has ever +done through all his life,' I prayed, 'Jesus remember it--Christ do not +forget.' We who are human do so few things that are noble--oh, surely +one must count." + +The duchess's head lay near her sister's breast, and she had fallen a- +sobbing--a-sobbing and weeping like a young broken child. + +"Oh, brave and noble, pitiful, strong, fair soul!" she cried. "As Christ +loved you have loved, and He would hear your praying. Since you so +pleaded, He would find one thing to hang His mercy on." + +She lifted her fair, tear-streaming face, clasping her hands as one +praying. + +"And I--and I," she cried--"have I not built a temple on his grave? Have +I not tried to live a fair life, and be as Christ bade me? Have I not +loved, and pitied, and succoured those in pain? Have I not filled a +great man's days with bliss, and love, and wifely worship? Have I not +given him noble children, bred in high lovingness, and taught to love all +things God made, even the very beasts that perish, since they, too, +suffer as all do? Have I left aught undone? Oh, sister, I have so +prayed that I left naught. Even though I could not believe that there +was One who, ruling all, could yet be pitiless as He is to some, I have +prayed That--which sure it seems must be, though we comprehend it not--to +teach me faith in something greater than my poor self, and not of earth. +Say this to Christ's self when you are face to face--say this to Him, I +pray you! Anne, Anne, look not so strangely through the window at the +blueness of the sky, sweet soul, but look at me." + +For Anne lay upon her pillow so smiling that 'twas a strange thing to +behold. It seemed as she were smiling at the whiteness of the doves +against the blue. A moment her sister stood up watching her, and then +she stirred, meaning to go to call one of the servants waiting outside; +but though she moved not her gaze from the tower window, Mistress Anne +faintly spoke. + +"Nay--stay," she breathed. "I go--softly--stay." + +Clorinda fell upon her knees again and bent her lips close to her ear. +This was death, and yet she feared it not--this was the passing of a +soul, and while it went it seemed so fair and loving a thing that she +could ask it her last question--her greatest--knowing it was so near to +God that its answer must be rest. + +"Anne, Anne," she whispered, "must he know--my Gerald? Must I--must I +tell him all? If so I must, I will--upon my knees." + +The doves came flying downward from the blue, and lighted on the window +stone and cooed--Anne's answer was as low as her soft breath and her +still eyes were filled with joy at that she saw but which another could +not. + +"Nay," she breathed. "Tell him not. What need? Wait, and let God tell +him--who understands." + +Then did her soft breath stop, and she lay still, her eyes yet open and +smiling at the blossoms, and the doves who sate upon the window-ledge and +lowly cooed and cooed. + +* * * * * + +'Twas her duchess sister who clad her for her last sleeping, and made her +chamber fair--the hand of no other touched her; and while 'twas done the +tower chamber was full of the golden sunshine, and the doves ceased not +to flutter about the window, and coo as if they spoke lovingly to each +other of what lay within the room. + +Then the children came to look, their arms full of blossoms and flowering +sprays. They had been told only fair things of death, and knowing but +these fair things, thought of it but as the opening of a golden door. +They entered softly, as entering the chamber of a queen, and moving +tenderly, with low and gentle speech, spread all their flowers about the +bed--laying them round her head, on her breast, and in her hands, and +strewing them thick everywhere. + +"She lies in a bower and smiles at us," one said. "She hath grown +beautiful like you, mother, and her face seems like a white star in the +morning." + +"She loves us as she ever did," the fair child Daphne said; "she will +never cease to love us, and will be our angel. Now have we an angel of +our own." + +When the duke returned, who had been absent since the day before, the +duchess led him to the tower chamber, and they stood together hand in +hand and gazed at her peace. + +"Gerald," the duchess said, in her tender voice, "she smiles, does not +she?" + +"Yes," was Osmonde's answer--"yes, love, as if at God, who has smiled at +herself--faithful, tender woman heart!" + +The hand which he held in his clasp clung closer. The other crept to his +shoulder and lay there tremblingly. + +"How faithful and how tender, my Gerald," Clorinda said, "I only know. +She is my saint--sweet Anne, whom I dared treat so lightly in my poor +wayward days. Gerald, she knows all my sins, and to-day she has carried +them in her pure hands to God and asked His mercy on them. She had none +of her own." + +"And so having done, dear heart, she lies amid her flowers, and smiles," +he said, and he drew her white hand to press it against his breast. + +* * * * * + +While her body slept beneath soft turf and flowers, and that which was +her self was given in God's heaven, all joys for which her earthly being +had yearned, even when unknowing how to name its longing, each year that +passed made more complete and splendid the lives of those she so had +loved. Never, 'twas said, had woman done such deeds of gentleness and +shown so sweet and generous a wisdom as the great duchess. None who were +weak were in danger if she used her strength to aid them; no man or woman +was a lost thing whom she tried to save: such tasks she set herself as no +lady had ever given herself before; but 'twas not her way to fail--her +will being so powerful, her brain so clear, her heart so purely noble. +Pauper and prince, noble and hind honoured her and her lord alike, and +all felt wonder at their happiness. It seemed that they had learned +life's meaning and the honouring of love, and this they taught to their +children, to the enriching of a long and noble line. In the ripeness of +years they passed from earth in as beauteous peace as the sun sets, and +upon a tablet above the resting-place of their ancestors there are +inscribed lines like these:-- + + "Here sleeps by her husband the purest and noblest lady God e'er + loved, yet the high and gentle deeds of her chaste sweet life sleep + not, but live and grow, and so will do so long as earth is earth." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LADY OF QUALITY*** + + +******* This file should be named 1550.txt or 1550.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1550 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared from the 1896 Fredericke Warne & Co. edition +by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +A LADY OF QUALITY +Being a most curious, hitherto unknown +history, as related by Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff +but not presented to the World of +Fashion through the pages of +The Tatler, and now for the +first time written down +by +Francis Hodgson Burnett + + + + +Were Nature just to Man from his first hour, he need not ask for +Mercy; then 'tis for us--the toys of Nature--to be both just and +merciful, for so only can the wrongs she does be undone. + + + + +CHAPTER I--The twenty-fourth day of November 1690 + + + +On a wintry morning at the close of 1690, the sun shining faint and +red through a light fog, there was a great noise of baying dogs, +loud voices, and trampling of horses in the court-yard at Wildairs +Hall; Sir Jeoffry being about to go forth a-hunting, and being a man +with a choleric temper and big, loud voice, and given to oaths and +noise even when in good-humour, his riding forth with his friends at +any time was attended with boisterous commotion. This morning it +was more so than usual, for he had guests with him who had come to +his house the day before, and had supped late and drunk deeply, +whereby the day found them, some with headaches, some with a nausea +at their stomachs, and some only in an evil humour which made them +curse at their horses when they were restless, and break into loud +surly laughs when a coarse joke was made. There were many such +jokes, Sir Jeoffry and his boon companions being renowned throughout +the county for the freedom of their conversation as for the scandal +of their pastimes, and this day 'twas well indeed, as their loud- +voiced, oath-besprinkled jests rang out on the cold air, that there +were no ladies about to ride forth with them. + +'Twas Sir Jeoffry who was louder than any other, he having drunk +even deeper than the rest, and though 'twas his boast that he could +carry a bottle more than any man, and see all his guests under the +table, his last night's bout had left him in ill-humour and +boisterous. He strode about, casting oaths at the dogs and rating +the servants, and when he mounted his big black horse 'twas amid +such a clamour of voices and baying hounds that the place was like +Pandemonium. + +He was a large man of florid good looks, black eyes, and full habit +of body, and had been much renowned in his youth for his great +strength, which was indeed almost that of a giant, and for his deeds +of prowess in the saddle and at the table when the bottle went +round. There were many evil stories of his roysterings, but it was +not his way to think of them as evil, but rather to his credit as a +man of the world, for, when he heard that they were gossiped about, +he greeted the information with a loud triumphant laugh. He had +married, when she was fifteen, the blooming toast of the county, for +whom his passion had long died out, having indeed departed with the +honeymoon, which had been of the briefest, and afterwards he having +borne her a grudge for what he chose to consider her undutiful +conduct. This grudge was founded on the fact that, though she had +presented him each year since their marriage with a child, after +nine years had passed none had yet been sons, and, as he was +bitterly at odds with his next of kin, he considered each of his +offspring an ill turn done him. + +He spent but little time in her society, for she was a poor, gentle +creature of no spirit, who found little happiness in her lot, since +her lord treated her with scant civility, and her children one after +another sickened and died in their infancy until but two were left. +He scarce remembered her existence when he did not see her face, and +he was certainly not thinking of her this morning, having other +things in view, and yet it so fell out that, while a groom was +shortening a stirrup and being sworn at for his awkwardness, he by +accident cast his eye upward to a chamber window peering out of the +thick ivy on the stone. Doing so he saw an old woman draw back the +curtain and look down upon him as if searching for him with a +purpose. + +He uttered an exclamation of anger. + +"Damnation! Mother Posset again," he said. "What does she there, +old frump?" + +The curtain fell and the woman disappeared, but in a few minutes +more an unheard-of thing happened--among the servants in the hall, +the same old woman appeared making her way with a hurried +fretfulness, and she descended haltingly the stone steps and came to +his side where he sat on his black horse. + +"The Devil!" he exclaimed--"what are you here for? 'Tis not time +for another wench upstairs, surely?" + +"'Tis not time," answered the old nurse acidly, taking her tone from +his own. "But there is one, but an hour old, and my lady--" + +"Be damned to her!" quoth Sir Jeoffry savagely. "A ninth one--and +'tis nine too many. 'Tis more than man can bear. She does it but +to spite me." + +"'Tis ill treatment for a gentleman who wants an heir," the old +woman answered, as disrespectful of his spouse as he was, being a +time-serving crone, and knowing that it paid but poorly to coddle +women who did not as their husbands would have them in the way of +offspring. "It should have been a fine boy, but it is not, and my +lady--" + +"Damn her puling tricks!" said Sir Jeoffry again, pulling at his +horse's bit until the beast reared. + +"She would not let me rest until I came to you," said the nurse +resentfully. "She would have you told that she felt strangely, and +before you went forth would have a word with you." + +"I cannot come, and am not in the mood for it if I could," was his +answer. "What folly does she give way to? This is the ninth time +she hath felt strangely, and I have felt as squeamish as she--but +nine is more than I have patience for." + +"She is light-headed, mayhap," said the nurse. "She lieth huddled +in a heap, staring and muttering, and she would leave me no peace +till I promised to say to you, 'For the sake of poor little Daphne, +whom you will sure remember.' She pinched my hand and said it again +and again." + +Sir Jeoffry dragged at his horse's mouth and swore again. + +"She was fifteen then, and had not given me nine yellow-faced +wenches," he said. "Tell her I had gone a-hunting and you were too +late;" and he struck his big black beast with the whip, and it +bounded away with him, hounds and huntsmen and fellow-roysterers +galloping after, his guests, who had caught at the reason of his +wrath, grinning as they rode. + +* * * + +In a huge chamber hung with tattered tapestries and barely set forth +with cumbersome pieces of furnishing, my lady lay in a gloomy, +canopied bed, with her new-born child at her side, but not looking +at or touching it, seeming rather to have withdrawn herself from the +pillow on which it lay in its swaddling-clothes. + +She was but a little lady, and now, as she lay in the large bed, her +face and form shrunken and drawn with suffering, she looked scarce +bigger than a child. In the brief days of her happiness those who +toasted her had called her Titania for her fairy slightness and +delicate beauty, but then her fair wavy locks had been of a length +that touched the ground when her woman unbound them, and she had had +the colour of a wild rose and the eyes of a tender little fawn. Sir +Jeoffry for a month or so had paid tempestuous court to her, and had +so won her heart with his dashing way of love-making and the +daringness of his reputation, that she had thought herself--being +child enough to think so--the luckiest young lady in the world that +his black eye should have fallen upon her with favour. Each year +since, with the bearing of each child, she had lost some of her +beauty. With each one her lovely hair fell out still more, her +wild-rose colour faded, and her shape was spoiled. She grew thin +and yellow, only a scant covering of the fair hair was left her, and +her eyes were big and sunken. Her marriage having displeased her +family, and Sir Jeoffry having a distaste for the ceremonies of +visiting and entertainment, save where his own cronies were +concerned, she had no friends, and grew lonelier and lonelier as the +sad years went by. She being so without hope and her life so +dreary, her children were neither strong nor beautiful, and died +quickly, each one bringing her only the anguish of birth and death. +This wintry morning her ninth lay slumbering by her side; the noise +of baying dogs and boisterous men had died away with the last sound +of the horses' hoofs; the little light which came into the room +through the ivied window was a faint yellowish red; she was cold, +because the fire in the chimney was but a scant, failing one; she +was alone--and she knew that the time had come for her death. This +she knew full well. + +She was alone, because, being so disrespected and deserted by her +lord, and being of a timid and gentle nature, she could not command +her insufficient retinue of servants, and none served her as was +their duty. The old woman Sir Jeoffry had dubbed Mother Posset had +been her sole attendant at such times as these for the past five +years, because she would come to her for a less fee than a better +woman, and Sir Jeoffry had sworn he would not pay for wenches being +brought into the world. She was a slovenly, guzzling old crone, who +drank caudle from morning till night, and demanded good living as a +support during the performance of her trying duties; but these last +she contrived to make wondrous light, knowing that there was none to +reprove her. + +"A fine night I have had," she had grumbled when she brought back +Sir Jeoffry's answer to her lady's message. "My old bones are like +to break, and my back will not straighten itself. I will go to the +kitchen to get victuals and somewhat to warm me; your ladyship's own +woman shall sit with you." + +Her ladyship's "own woman" was also the sole attendant of the two +little girls, Barbara and Anne, whose nursery was in another wing of +the house, and my lady knew full well she would not come if she were +told, and that there would be no message sent to her. + +She knew, too, that the fire was going out, but, though she shivered +under the bedclothes, she was too weak to call the woman back when +she saw her depart without putting fresh fuel upon it. + +So she lay alone, poor lady, and there was no sound about her, and +her thin little mouth began to feebly quiver, and her great eyes, +which stared at the hangings, to fill with slow cold tears, for in +sooth they were not warm, but seemed to chill her poor cheeks as +they rolled slowly down them, leaving a wet streak behind them which +she was too far gone in weakness to attempt to lift her hand to wipe +away. + +"Nine times like this," she panted faintly, "and 'tis for naught but +oaths and hard words that blame me. I was but a child myself and he +loved me. When 'twas 'My Daphne,' and 'My beauteous little Daphne,' +he loved me in his own man's way. But now--" she faintly rolled her +head from side to side. "Women are poor things"--a chill salt tear +sliding past her lips so that she tasted its bitterness--"only to be +kissed for an hour, and then like this--only for this and nothing +else. I would that this one had been dead." + +Her breath came slower and more pantingly, and her eyes stared more +widely. + +"I was but a child," she whispered--"a child--as--as this will be-- +if she lives fifteen years." + +Despite her weakness, and it was great and woefully increasing with +each panting breath, she slowly laboured to turn herself towards the +pillow on which her offspring lay, and, this done, she lay staring +at the child and gasping, her thin chest rising and falling +convulsively. Ah, how she panted, and how she stared, the glaze of +death stealing slowly over her wide-opened eyes; and yet, dimming as +they were, they saw in the sleeping infant a strange and troublous +thing--though it was but a few hours old 'twas not as red and +crumple visaged as new-born infants usually are, its little head was +covered with thick black silk, and its small features were of +singular definiteness. She dragged herself nearer to gaze. + +"She looks not like the others," she said. "They had no beauty--and +are safe. She--she will be like--Jeoffry--and like ME." + +The dying fire fell lower with a shuddering sound. + +"If she is--beautiful, and has but her father, and no mother!" she +whispered, the words dragged forth slowly, "only evil can come to +her. From her first hour--she will know naught else, poor heart, +poor heart!" + +There was a rattling in her throat as she breathed, but in her +glazing eyes a gleam like passion leaped, and gasping, she dragged +nearer. + +"'Tis not fair," she cried. "If I--if I could lay my hand upon thy +mouth--and stop thy breathing--thou poor thing, 'twould be fairer-- +but--I have no strength." + +She gathered all her dying will and brought her hand up to the +infant's mouth. A wild look was on her poor, small face, she panted +and fell forward on its breast, the rattle in her throat growing +louder. The child awakened, opening great black eyes, and with her +dying weakness its new-born life struggled. Her cold hand lay upon +I its mouth, and her head upon its body, for she was too far gone to +move if she had willed to do so. But the tiny creature's strength +was marvellous. It gasped, it fought, its little limbs struggled +beneath her, it writhed until the cold hand fell away, and then, its +baby mouth set free, it fell a-shrieking. Its cries were not like +those of a new-born thing, but fierce and shrill, and even held the +sound of infant passion. 'Twas not a thing to let its life go +easily, 'twas of those born to do battle. + +Its lusty screaming pierced her ear perhaps--she drew a long, slow +breath, and then another, and another still--the last one trembled +and stopped short, and the last cinder fell dead from the fire. + +* * * + +When the nurse came bustling and fretting back, the chamber was cold +as the grave's self--there were only dead embers on the hearth, the +new-born child's cries filled all the desolate air, and my lady was +lying stone dead, her poor head resting on her offspring's feet, the +while her open glazed eyes seemed to stare at it as if in asking +Fate some awful question. + + + +CHAPTER II--In which Sir Jeoffry encounters his offspring + + + +In a remote wing of the house, in barren, ill-kept rooms, the poor +infants of the dead lady had struggled through their brief lives, +and given them up, one after the other. Sir Jeoffry had not wished +to see them, nor had he done so, but upon the rarest occasions, and +then nearly always by some untoward accident. The six who had died, +even their mother had scarcely wept for; her weeping had been that +they should have been fated to come into the world, and when they +went out of it she knew she need not mourn their going as untimely. +The two who had not perished, she had regarded sadly day by day, +seeing they had no beauty and that their faces promised none. +Naught but great beauty would have excused their existence in their +father's eyes, as beauty might have helped them to good matches +which would have rid him of them. But 'twas the sad ill fortune of +the children Anne and Barbara to have been treated by Nature in a +way but niggardly. They were pale young misses, with insignificant +faces and snub noses, resembling an aunt who died a spinster, as +they themselves seemed most likely to. Sir Jeoffry could not bear +the sight of them, and they fled at the sound of his footsteps, if +it so happened that by chance they heard it, huddling together in +corners, and slinking behind doors or anything big enough to hide +them. They had no playthings and no companions and no pleasures but +such as the innocent invention of childhood contrives for itself. + +After their mother's death a youth desolate and strange indeed lay +before them. A spinster who was a poor relation was the only person +of respectable breeding who ever came near them. To save herself +from genteel starvation, she had offered herself for the place of +governess to them, though she was fitted for the position neither by +education nor character. Mistress Margery Wimpole was a poor, dull +creature, having no wilful harm in her, but endowed with neither +dignity nor wit. She lived in fear of Sir Jeoffry, and in fear of +the servants, who knew full well that she was an humble dependant, +and treated her as one. She hid away with her pupils' in the bare +school-room in the west wing, and taught them to spell and write and +work samplers. She herself knew no more. + +The child who had cost her mother her life had no happier prospect +than her sisters. Her father felt her more an intruder than they +had been, he being of the mind that to house and feed and clothe, +howsoever poorly, these three burdens on him was a drain scarcely to +be borne. His wife had been a toast and not a fortune, and his +estate not being great, he possessed no more than his drinking, +roystering, and gambling made full demands upon. + +The child was baptized Clorinda, and bred, so to speak, from her +first hour, in the garret and the servants' hall. Once only did her +father behold her during her infancy, which event was a mere +accident, as he had expressed no wish to see her, and only came upon +her in the nurse's arms some weeks after her mother's death. 'Twas +quite by chance. The woman, who was young and buxom, had begun an +intrigue with a groom, and having a mind to see him, was crossing +the stable-yard, carrying her charge with her, when Sir Jeoffry came +by to visit a horse. + +The woman came plump upon him, entering a stable as he came out of +it; she gave a frightened start, and almost let the child drop, at +which it set up a strong, shrill cry, and thus Sir Jeoffry saw it, +and seeing it, was thrown at once into a passion which expressed +itself after the manner of all his emotion, and left the nurse +quaking with fear. + +"Thunder and damnation!" he exclaimed, as he strode away after the +encounter; "'tis the ugliest yet. A yellow-faced girl brat, with +eyes like an owl's in an ivy-bush, and with a voice like a very +peacocks. Another mawking, plain slut that no man will take off my +hands." + +He did not see her again for six years. But little wit was needed +to learn that 'twas best to keep her out of his sight, as her +sisters were kept, and this was done without difficulty, as he +avoided the wing of the house where the children lived, as if it +were stricken with the plague. + +But the child Clorinda, it seemed, was of lustier stock than her +older sisters, and this those about her soon found out to their +grievous disturbance. When Mother Posset had drawn her from under +her dead mother's body she had not left shrieking for an hour, but +had kept up her fierce cries until the roof rang with them, and the +old woman had jogged her about and beat her back in the hopes of +stifling her, until she was exhausted and dismayed. For the child +would not be stilled, and seemed to have such strength and +persistence in her as surely infant never showed before. + +"Never saw I such a brat among all I have brought into the world," +old Posset quavered. "She hath the voice of a six-months boy. It +cracks my very ears. Hush thee, then, thou little wild cat." + +This was but the beginning. From the first she grew apace, and in a +few months was a bouncing infant, with a strong back, and a power to +make herself heard such as had not before appeared in the family. +When she desired a thing, she yelled and roared with such a vigour +as left no peace for any creature about her until she was humoured, +and this being the case, rather than have their conversation and +love-making put a stop to, the servants gave her her way. In this +they but followed the example of their betters, of whom we know that +it is not to the most virtuous they submit or to the most learned, +but to those who, being crossed, can conduct themselves in a manner +so disagreeable, shrewish or violent, that life is a burden until +they have their will. This the child Clorinda had the infant wit to +discover early, and having once discovered it, she never ceased to +take advantage of her knowledge. Having found in the days when her +one desire was pap, that she had but to roar lustily enough to find +it beside her in her porringer, she tried the game upon all other +occasions. When she had reached but a twelvemonth, she stood +stoutly upon her little feet, and beat her sisters to gain their +playthings, and her nurse for wanting to change her smock. She was +so easily thrown into furies, and so raged and stamped in her baby +way that she was a sight to behold, and the men-servants found +amusement in badgering her. To set Mistress Clorinda in their midst +on a winter's night when they were dull, and to torment her until +her little face grew scarlet with the blood which flew up into it, +and she ran from one to the other beating them and screaming like a +young spitfire, was among them a favourite entertainment. + +"Ifackens!" said the butler one night, "but she is as like Sir +Jeoffry in her temper as one pea is like another. Ay, but she grows +blood red just as he does, and curses in her little way as he does +in man's words among his hounds in their kennel." + +"And she will be of his build, too," said the housekeeper. "What +mishap changed her to a maid instead of a boy, I know not. She +would have made a strapping heir. She has the thigh and shoulders +of a handsome man-child at this hour, and she is not three years +old." + +"Sir Jeoffry missed his mark when he called her an ugly brat," said +the woman who had nursed her. "She will be a handsome woman--though +large in build, it may be. She will be a brown beauty, but she will +have a colour in her cheeks and lips like the red of Christmas +holly, and her owl's eyes are as black as sloes, and have fringes on +them like the curtains of a window. See how her hair grows thick on +her little head, and how it curls in great rings. My lady, her poor +mother, was once a beauty, but she was no such beauty as this one +will be, for she has her father's long limbs and fine shoulders, and +the will to make every man look her way." + +"Yes," said the housekeeper, who was an elderly woman, "there will +be doings--there will be doings when she is a ripe young maid. She +will take her way, and God grant she mayn't be TOO like her father +and follow his." + +It was true that she had no resemblance to her plain sisters, and +bore no likeness to them in character. The two elder children, Anne +and Barbara, were too meek-spirited to be troublesome; but during +Clorinda's infancy Mistress Margery Wimpole watched her rapid growth +with fear and qualms. She dare not reprove the servants who were +ruining her by their treatment, and whose manners were forming her +own. Sir Jeoffry's servants were no more moral than their master, +and being brought up as she was among them, their young mistress +became strangely familiar with many sights and sounds it is not the +fortune of most young misses of breeding to see and hear. The cooks +and kitchen-wenches were flighty with the grooms and men-servants, +and little Mistress Clorinda, having a passion for horses and dogs, +spent many an hour in the stables with the women who, for reasons of +their own, were pleased enough to take her there as an excuse for +seeking amusement for themselves. She played in the kennels and +among the horses' heels, and learned to use oaths as roundly as any +Giles or Tom whose work was to wield the curry comb. It was indeed +a curious thing to hear her red baby mouth pour forth curses and +unseemly words as she would at any one who crossed her. Her temper +and hot-headedness carried all before them, and the grooms and +stable-boys found great sport in the language my young lady used in +her innocent furies. But balk her in a whim, and she would pour +forth the eloquence of a fish-wife or a lady of easy virtue in a +pot-house quarrel. There was no human creature near her who had +mind or heart enough to see the awfulness of her condition, or to +strive to teach her to check her passions; and in the midst of these +perilous surroundings the little virago grew handsomer and of finer +carriage every hour, as if on the rank diet that fed her she throve +and flourished. + +There came a day at last when she had reached six years old, when by +a trick of chance a turn was given to the wheel of her fate. + +She had not reached three when a groom first set her on a horse's +back and led her about the stable-yard, and she had so delighted in +her exalted position, and had so shouted for pleasure and clutched +her steed's rein and clucked at him, that her audience had looked on +with roars of laughter. From that time she would be put up every +day, and as time went on showed such unchildish courage and spirit +that she furnished to her servant companions a new pastime. Soon +she would not be held on, but riding astride like a boy, would sit +up as straight as a man and swear at her horse, beating him with her +heels and little fists if his pace did not suit her. She knew no +fear, and would have used a whip so readily that the men did not +dare to trust her with one, and knew they must not mount her on a +steed too mettlesome. By the time she passed her sixth birthday she +could ride as well as a grown man, and was as familiar with her +father's horses as he himself, though he knew nothing of the matter, +it being always contrived that she should be out of sight when he +visited his hunters. + +It so chanced that the horse he rode the oftenest was her favourite, +and many were the tempests of rage she fell into when she went to +the stable to play with the animal and did not find him in his +stall, because his master had ordered him out. At such times she +would storm at the men in the stable-yard and call them ill names +for their impudence in letting the beast go, which would cause them +great merriment, as she knew nothing of who the man was who had +balked her, since she was, in truth, not so much as conscious of her +father's existence, never having seen or even heard more of him than +his name, which she in no manner connected with herself. + +"Could Sir Jeoffry himself but once see and hear her when she storms +at us and him, because he dares to ride his own beast," one of the +older men said once, in the midst of their laughter, "I swear he +would burst forth laughing and be taken with her impudent spirit, +her temper is so like his own. She is his own flesh and blood, and +as full of hell-fire as he." + +Upon this morning which proved eventful to her, she had gone to the +stables, as was her daily custom, and going into the stall where the +big black horse was wont to stand, she found it empty. Her spirit +rose hot within her in the moment. She clenched her fists, and +began to stamp and swear in such a manner as it would be scarce +fitting to record. + +"Where is he now?" she cried. "He is my own horse, and shall not be +ridden. Who is the man who takes him? Who? Who?" + +"'Tis a fellow who hath no manners," said the man she stormed at, +grinning and thrusting his tongue in his cheek. "He says 'tis his +beast, and not yours, and he will have him when he chooses." + +"'Tis not his--'tis mine!" shrieked Miss, her little face inflamed +with passion. "I will kill him! 'Tis my horse. He SHALL be mine!" + +For a while the men tormented her, to hear her rave and see her +passion, for, in truth, the greater tempest she was in, the better +she was worth beholding, having a colour so rich, and eyes so great +and black and flaming. At such times there was naught of the +feminine in her, and indeed always she looked more like a handsome +boy than a girl, her growth being for her age extraordinary. At +length a lad who was a helper said to mock her - + +"The man hath him at the door before the great steps now. I saw him +stand there waiting but a moment ago. The man hath gone in the +house." + +She turned and ran to find him. The front part of the house she +barely knew the outside of, as she was kept safely in the west wing +and below stairs, and when taken out for the air was always led +privately by a side way--never passing through the great hall, where +her father might chance to encounter her. + +She knew best this side-entrance, and made her way to it, meaning to +search until she found the front. She got into the house, and her +spirit being roused, marched boldly through corridors and into rooms +she had never seen before, and being so mere a child, +notwithstanding her strange wilfulness and daring, the novelty of +the things she saw so far distracted her mind from the cause of her +anger that she stopped more than once to stare up at a portrait on a +wall, or to take in her hand something she was curious concerning. + +When she at last reached the entrance-hall, coming into it through a +door she pushed open, using all her childish strength, she stood in +the midst of it and gazed about her with a new curiosity and +pleasure. It was a fine place, with antlers, and arms, and foxes' +brushes hung upon the walls, and with carved panels of black oak, +and oaken floor and furnishings. All in it was disorderly and +showed rough usage; but once it had been a notable feature of the +house, and well worth better care than had been bestowed upon it. +She discovered on the walls many trophies that attracted her, but +these she could not reach, and could only gaze and wonder at; but on +an old oaken settle she found some things she could lay hands on, +and forthwith seized and sat down upon the floor to play with them. +One of them was a hunting-crop, which she brandished grandly, until +she was more taken with a powder-flask which it so happened her +father, Sir Jeoffry, had lain down but a few minutes before, in +passing through. He was going forth coursing, and had stepped into +the dining-hall to toss off a bumper of brandy. + +When he had helped himself from the buffet, and came back in haste, +the first thing he clapped eyes on was his offspring pouring forth +the powder from his flask upon the oaken floor. He had never seen +her since that first occasion after the unfortunate incident of her +birth, and beholding a child wasting his good powder at the moment +he most wanted it and had no time to spare, and also not having had +it recalled to his mind for years that he was a parent, except when +he found himself forced reluctantly to pay for some small need, he +beheld in the young offender only some impudent servant's brat, who +had strayed into his domain and applied itself at once to mischief. + +He sprang upon her, and seizing her by the arm, whirled her to her +feet with no little violence, snatching the powder-flask from her, +and dealing her a sound box on the ear. + +"Blood and damnation on thee, thou impudent little baggage!" he +shouted. "I'll break thy neck for thee, little scurvy beast;" and +pulled the bell as he were like to break the wire. + +But he had reckoned falsely on what he dealt with. Miss uttered a +shriek of rage which rang through the roof like a clarion. She +snatched the crop from the floor, rushed at him, and fell upon him +like a thousand little devils, beating his big legs with all the +strength of her passion, and pouring forth oaths such as would have +done credit to Doll Lightfoot herself. + +"Damn THEE!--damn THEE!"--she roared and screamed, flogging him. +"I'll tear thy eyes out! I'll cut thy liver from thee! Damn thy +soul to hell!" + +And this choice volley was with such spirit and fury poured forth, +that Sir Jeoffry let his hand drop from the bell, fell into a great +burst of laughter, and stood thus roaring while she beat him and +shrieked and stormed. + +The servants, hearing the jangled bell, attracted by the tumult, and +of a sudden missing Mistress Clorinda, ran in consternation to the +hall, and there beheld this truly pretty sight--Miss beating her +father's legs, and tearing at him tooth and nail, while he stood +shouting with laughter as if he would split his sides. + +"Who is the little cockatrice?" he cried, the tears streaming down +his florid cheeks. "Who is the young she-devil? Ods bodikins, who +is she?" + +For a second or so the servants stared at each other aghast, not +knowing what to say, or venturing to utter a word; and then the +nurse, who had come up panting, dared to gasp forth the truth. + +"'Tis Mistress Clorinda, Sir Jeoffry," she stammered--"my lady's +last infant--the one of whom she died in childbed." + +His big laugh broke in two, as one might say. He looked down at the +young fury and stared. She was out of breath with beating him, and +had ceased and fallen back apace, and was staring up at him also, +breathing defiance and hatred. Her big black eyes were flames, her +head was thrown up and back, her cheeks were blood scarlet, and her +great crop of crow-black hair stood out about her beauteous, wicked +little virago face, as if it might change into Medusa's snakes. + +"Damn thee!" she shrieked at him again. "I'll kill thee, devil!" + +Sir Jeoffry broke into his big laugh afresh. + +"Clorinda do they call thee, wench?" he said. "Jeoffry thou +shouldst have been but for thy mother's folly. A fiercer little +devil for thy size I never saw--nor a handsomer one." + +And he seized her from where she stood, and held her at his big +arms' length, gazing at her uncanny beauty with looks that took her +in from head to foot. + + + +CHAPTER III--Wherein Sir Jeoffry's boon companions drink a toast + + + +Her beauty of face, her fine body, her strength of limb, and great +growth for her age, would have pleased him if she had possessed no +other attraction, but the daring of her fury and her stable-boy +breeding so amused him and suited his roystering tastes that he took +to her as the finest plaything in the world. + +He set her on the floor, forgetting his coursing, and would have +made friends with her, but at first she would have none of him, and +scowled at him in spite of all he did. The brandy by this time had +mounted to his head and put him in the mood for frolic, liquor +oftenest making him gamesome. He felt as if he were playing with a +young dog or marking the spirit of a little fighting cock. He +ordered the servants back to their kitchen, who stole away, the +women amazed, and the men concealing grins which burst forth into +guffaws of laughter when they came into their hall below. + +"'Tis as we said," they chuckled. "He had but to see her beauty and +find her a bigger devil than he, and 'twas done. The mettle of her- +-damning and flogging him! Never was there a finer sight! She +feared him no more than if he had been a spaniel--and he roaring and +laughing till he was like to burst." + +"Dost know who I am?" Sir Jeoffry was asking the child, grinning +himself as he stood before her where she sat on the oaken settle on +which he had lifted her. + +"No," quoth little Mistress, her black brows drawn down, her +handsome owl's eyes verily seeming to look him through and through +in search of somewhat; for, in sooth, her rage abating before his +jovial humour, the big burly laugher attracted her attention, though +she was not disposed to show him that she leaned towards any favour +or yielding. + +"I am thy Dad," he said. "'Twas thy Dad thou gavest such a +trouncing. And thou hast an arm, too. Let's cast an eye on it." + +He took her wrist and pushed up her sleeve, but she dragged back. + +"Will not be mauled," she cried. "Get away from me!" + +He shouted with laughter again. He had seen that the little arm was +as white and hard as marble, and had such muscles as a great boy +might have been a braggart about. + +"By Gad!" he said, elated. "What a wench of six years old. Wilt +have my crop and trounce thy Dad again!" + +He picked up the crop from the place where she had thrown it, and +forthwith gave it in her hand. She took it, but was no more in the +humour to beat him, and as she looked still frowning from him to the +whip, the latter brought back to her mind the horse she had set out +in search of. + +"Where is my horse?" she said, and 'twas in the tone of an imperial +demand. "Where is he?" + +"Thy horse!" he echoed. "Which is thy horse then?" + +"Rake is my horse," she answered--"the big black one. The man took +him again;" and she ripped out a few more oaths and unchaste +expressions, threatening what she would do for the man in question; +the which delighted him more than ever. "Rake is my horse," she +ended. "None else shall ride him." + +"None else?" cried he. "Thou canst not ride him, baggage!" + +She looked at him with scornful majesty. + +"Where is he?" she demanded. And the next instant hearing the +beast's restless feet grinding into the gravel outside as he fretted +at having been kept waiting so long, she remembered what the stable- +boy had said of having seen her favourite standing before the door, +and struggling and dropping from the settle, she ran to look out; +whereupon having done so, she shouted in triumph. + +"He is here!" she said. "I see him;" and went pell-mell down the +stone steps to his side. + +Sir Jeoffry followed her in haste. 'Twould not have been to his +humour now to have her brains kicked out. + +"Hey!" he called, as he hurried. "Keep away from his heels, thou +little devil." + +But she had run to the big beast's head with another shout, and +caught him round his foreleg, laughing, and Rake bent his head down +and nosed her in a fumbling caress, on which, the bridle coming +within her reach, she seized it and held his head that she might pat +him, to which familiarity the beast was plainly well accustomed. + +"He is my horse," quoth she grandly when her father reached her. +"He will not let Giles play so." + +Sir Jeoffry gazed and swelled with pleasure in her. + +"Would have said 'twas a lie if I had not seen it," he said to +himself. "'Tis no girl this, I swear. I thought 'twas my horse," +he said to her, "but 'tis plain enough he is thine." + +"Put me up!" said his new-found offspring. + +"Hast rid him before?" Sir Jeoffry asked, with some lingering +misgiving. "Tell thy Dad if thou hast rid him." + +She gave him a look askance under her long fringed lids--a surly yet +half-slyly relenting look, because she wanted to get her way of him, +and had the cunning wit and shrewdness of a child witch. + +"Ay!" quoth she. "Put me up--Dad!" + +He was not a man of quick mind, his brain having been too many years +bemuddled with drink, but he had a rough instinct which showed him +all the wondrous shrewdness of her casting that last word at him to +wheedle him, even though she looked sullen in the saying it. It +made him roar again for very exultation. + +"Put me up, Dad!" he cried. "That will I--and see what thou wilt +do." + +He lifted her, she springing as he set his hands beneath her arms, +and flinging her legs over astride across the saddle when she +reached it. She was all fire and excitement, and caught the reins +like an old huntsman, and with such a grasp as was amazing. She sat +up with a straight, strong back, her whole face glowing and +sparkling with exultant joy. Rake seemed to answer to her excited +little laugh almost as much as to her hand. It seemed to wake his +spirit and put him in good-humour. He started off with her down the +avenue at a light, spirited trot, while she, clinging with her +little legs and sitting firm and fearless, made him change into +canter and gallop, having actually learned all his paces like a +lesson, and knowing his mouth as did his groom, who was her familiar +and slave. Had she been of the build ordinary with children of her +age, she could not have stayed upon his back; but she sat him like a +child jockey, and Sir Jeoffry, watching and following her, clapped +his hands boisterously and hallooed for joy. + +"Lord, Lord!" he said. "There's not a man in the shire has such +another little devil--and Rake, 'her horse,'" grinning--"and she to +ride him so. I love thee, wench--hang me if I do not!" + +She made him play with her and with Rake for a good hour, and then +took him back to the stables, and there ordered him about finely +among the dogs and horses, perceiving that somehow this great man +she had got hold of was a creature who was in power and could be +made use of. + +When they returned to the house, he had her to eat her mid-day meal +with him, when she called for ale, and drank it, and did good +trencher duty, making him the while roar with laughter at her +impudent child-talk. + +"Never have I so split my sides since I was twenty," he said. "It +makes me young again to roar so. She shall not leave my sight, +since by chance I have found her. 'Tis too good a joke to lose, +when times are dull, as they get to be as a man's years go on." + +He sent for her woman and laid strange new commands on her. + +"Where hath she hitherto been kept?" he asked. + +"In the west wing, where are the nurseries, and where Mistress +Wimpole abides with Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne," the woman +answered, with a frightened curtsey. + +"Henceforth she shall live in this part of the house where I do," he +said. "Make ready the chambers that were my lady's, and prepare to +stay there with her." + +From that hour the child's fate was sealed. He made himself her +playfellow, and romped with and indulged her until she became fonder +of him than of any groom or stable-boy she had been companions with +before. But, indeed, she had never been given to bestowing much +affection on those around her, seeming to feel herself too high a +personage to show softness. The ones she showed most favour to were +those who served her best; and even to them it was always FAVOUR she +showed, not tenderness. Certain dogs and horses she was fond of, +Rake coming nearest to her heart, and the place her father won in +her affections was somewhat like to Rake's. She made him her +servant and tyrannised over him, but at the same time followed and +imitated him as if she had been a young spaniel he was training. +The life the child led, it would have broken a motherly woman's +heart to hear about; but there was no good woman near her, her +mother's relatives, and even Sir Jeoffry's own, having cut +themselves off early from them--Wildairs Hall and its master being +no great credit to those having the misfortune to be connected with +them. The neighbouring gentry had gradually ceased to visit the +family some time before her ladyship's death, and since then the +only guests who frequented the place were a circle of hunting, +drinking, and guzzling boon companions of Sir Jeoffry's own, who +joined him in all his carousals and debaucheries. + +To these he announced his discovery of his daughter with tumultuous +delight. He told them, amid storms of laughter, of his first +encounter with her; of her flogging him with his own crop, and +cursing him like a trooper; of her claiming Rake as her own horse, +and swearing at the man who had dared to take him from the stable to +ride; and of her sitting him like an infant jockey, and seeming, by +some strange power, to have mastered him as no other had been able +heretofore to do. Then he had her brought into the dining-room, +where they sat over their bottles drinking deep, and setting her on +the table, he exhibited her to them, boasting of her beauty, showing +them her splendid arm and leg and thigh, measuring her height, and +exciting her to test the strength of the grip of her hand and the +power of her little fist. + +"Saw you ever a wench like her?" he cried, as they all shouted with +laughter and made jokes not too polite, but such as were of the sole +kind they were given to. "Has any man among you begot a boy as big +and handsome? Hang me! if she would not knock down any lad of ten +if she were in a fury." + +"We wild dogs are out of favour with the women," cried one of the +best pleased among them, a certain Lord Eldershawe, whose seat was a +few miles from Wildairs Hall--"women like nincompoops and chaplains. +Let us take this one for our toast, and bring her up as girls should +be brought up to be companions for men. I give you, Mistress +Clorinda Wildairs--Mistress Clorinda, the enslaver of six years old- +-bumpers, lads!--bumpers!" + +And they set her in the very midst of the big table and drank her +health, standing, bursting into a jovial, ribald song; and the +child, excited by the noise and laughter, actually broke forth and +joined them in a high, strong treble, the song being one she was +quite familiar with, having heard it often enough in the stable to +have learned the words pat. + +* * * + +Two weeks after his meeting with her, Sir Jeoffry was seized with +the whim to go up to London and set her forth with finery. 'Twas +but rarely he went up to town, having neither money to waste, nor +finding great attraction in the more civilised quarters of the +world. He brought her back such clothes as for richness and odd, +unsuitable fashion child never wore before. There were brocades +that stood alone with splendour of fabric, there was rich lace, fine +linen, ribbands, farthingales, swansdown tippets, and little +slippers with high red heels. He had a wardrobe made for her such +as the finest lady of fashion could scarcely boast, and the tiny +creature was decked out in it, and on great occasions even strung +with her dead mother's jewels. + +Among these strange things, he had the fantastical notion to have +made for her several suits of boy's clothes: pink and blue satin +coats, little white, or amber, or blue satin breeches, ruffles of +lace, and waistcoats embroidered with colours and silver or gold. +There was also a small scarlet-coated hunting costume and all the +paraphernalia of the chase. It was Sir Jeoffry's finest joke to bid +her woman dress her as a boy, and then he would have her brought to +the table where he and his fellows were dining together, and she +would toss off her little bumper with the best of them, and rip out +childish oaths, and sing them, to their delight, songs she had +learned from the stable-boys. She cared more for dogs and horses +than for finery, and when she was not in the humour to be made a +puppet of, neither tire-woman nor devil could put her into her +brocades; but she liked the excitement of the dining-room, and, as +time went on, would be dressed in her flowered petticoats in a +passion of eagerness to go and show herself, and coquet in her lace +and gewgaws with men old enough to be her father, and loose enough +to find her premature airs and graces a fine joke indeed. She ruled +them all with her temper and her shrewish will. She would have her +way in all things, or there should be no sport with her, and she +would sing no songs for them, but would flout them bitterly, and sit +in a great chair with her black brows drawn down, and her whole +small person breathing rancour and disdain. + +Sir Jeoffry, who had bullied his wife, had now the pleasurable +experience of being henpecked by his daughter; for so, indeed, he +was. Miss ruled him with a rod of iron, and wielded her weapon with +such skill that before a year had elapsed he obeyed her as the +servants below stairs had done in her infancy. She had no fear of +his great oaths, for she possessed a strangely varied stock of her +own upon which she could always draw, and her voice being more +shrill than his, if not of such bigness, her ear-piercing shrieks +and indomitable perseverance always proved too much for him in the +end. It must be admitted likewise that her violence of temper and +power of will were somewhat beyond his own, notwithstanding her +tender years and his reputation. In fact, he found himself obliged +to observe this, and finally made something of a merit and joke of +it. + +"There is no managing of the little shrew," he would say. "Neither +man nor devil can bend or break her. If I smashed every bone in her +carcass, she would die shrieking hell at me and defiance." + +If one admits the truth, it must be owned that if she had not had +bestowed upon her by nature gifts of beauty and vivacity so +extraordinary, and had been cursed with a thousandth part of the +vixenishness she displayed every day of her life, he would have +broken every bone in her carcass without a scruple or a qualm. But +her beauty seemed but to grow with every hour that passed, and it +was by exceeding good fortune exactly the fashion of beauty which he +admired the most. When she attained her tenth year she was as tall +as a fine boy of twelve, and of such a shape and carriage as young +Diana herself might have envied. Her limbs were long, and most +divinely moulded, and of a strength that caused admiration and +amazement in all beholders. Her father taught her to follow him in +the hunting-field, and when she appeared upon her horse, clad in her +little breeches and top-boots and scarlet coat, child though she +was, she set the field on fire. She learned full early how to +coquet and roll her fine eyes; but it is also true that she was not +much of a languisher, as all her ogling was of a destructive or +proudly-attacking kind. It was her habit to leave others to +languish, and herself to lead them with disdainful vivacity to doing +so. She was the talk, and, it must be admitted, the scandal, of the +county by the day she was fifteen. The part wherein she lived was a +boisterous hunting shire where there were wide ditches and high +hedges to leap, and rough hills and moors to gallop over, and within +the region neither polite life nor polite education were much +thought of; but even in the worst portions of it there were +occasional virtuous matrons who shook their heads with much gravity +and wonder over the beautiful Mistress Clorinda. + + + +CHAPTER IV--Lord Twemlow's chaplain visits his patron's kinsman, and +Mistress Clorinda shines on her birthday night + + + +Uncivilised and almost savage as her girlish life was, and +unregulated by any outward training as was her mind, there were none +who came in contact with her who could be blind to a certain strong, +clear wit, and unconquerableness of purpose, for which she was +remarkable. She ever knew full well what she desired to gain or to +avoid, and once having fixed her mind upon any object, she showed an +adroitness and brilliancy of resource, a control of herself and +others, the which there was no circumventing. She never made a +blunder because she could not control the expression of her +emotions; and when she gave way to a passion, 'twas because she +chose to do so, having naught to lose, and in the midst of all their +riotous jesting with her the boon companions of Sir Jeoffry knew +this. + +"Had she a secret to keep, child though she is," said Eldershawe, +"there is none--man or woman--who could scare or surprise it from +her; and 'tis a strange quality to note so early in a female +creature." + +She spent her days with her father and his dissolute friends, +treated half like a boy, half a fantastical queen, until she was +fourteen. She hunted and coursed, shot birds, leaped hedges and +ditches, reigned at the riotous feastings, and coquetted with these +mature, and in some cases elderly, men, as if she looked forward to +doing naught else all her life. + +But one day, after she had gone out hunting with her father, riding +Rake, who had been given to her, and wearing her scarlet coat, +breeches, and top-boots, one of the few remaining members of her +mother's family sent his chaplain to remonstrate and advise her +father to command her to forbear from appearing in such impudent +attire. + +There was, indeed, a stirring scene when this message was delivered +by its bearer. The chaplain was an awkward, timid creature, who had +heard stories enough of Wildairs Hall and its master to undertake +his mission with a quaking soul. To have refused to obey any behest +of his patron would have cost him his living, and knowing this +beyond a doubt, he was forced to gird up his loins and gather +together all the little courage he could muster to beard the lion in +his den. + +The first thing he beheld on entering the big hall was a beautiful +tall youth wearing his own rich black hair, and dressed in scarlet +coat for hunting. He was playing with a dog, making it leap over +his crop, and both laughing and swearing at its clumsiness. He +glanced at the chaplain with a laughing, brilliant eye, returning +the poor man's humble bow with a slight nod as he plainly hearkened +to what he said as he explained his errand. + +"I come from my Lord Twemlow, who is your master's kinsman," the +chaplain faltered; "I am bidden to see and speak to him if it be +possible, and his lordship much desires that Sir Jeoffry will allow +it to be so. My Lord Twemlow--" + +The beautiful youth left his playing with the dog and came forward +with all the air of the young master of the house. + +"My Lord Twemlow sends you?" he said. "'Tis long since his lordship +favoured us with messages. Where is Sir Jeoffry, Lovatt?" + +"In the dining-hall," answered the servant. "He went there but a +moment past, Mistress." + +The chaplain gave such a start as made him drop his shovel hat. +"Mistress!" And this was she--this fine young creature who was tall +and grandly enough built and knit to seem a radiant being even when +clad in masculine attire. He picked up his hat and bowed so low +that it almost swept the floor in his obeisance. He was not used to +female beauty which deigned to cast great smiling eyes upon him, for +at my Lord Twemlow's table he sat so far below the salt that women +looked not his way. + +This beauty looked at him as if she was amused at the thought of +something in her own mind. He wondered tremblingly if she guessed +what he came for and knew how her father would receive it. + +"Come with me," she said; "I will take you to him. He would not see +you if I did not. He does not love his lordship tenderly enough." + +She led the way, holding her head jauntily and high, while he cast +down his eyes lest his gaze should be led to wander in a way +unseemly in one of his cloth. Such a foot and such--! He felt it +more becoming and safer to lift his eyes to the ceiling and keep +them there, which gave him somewhat the aspect of one praying. + +Sir Jeoffry stood at the buffet with a flagon of ale in his hand, +taking his stirrup cup. At the sight of a stranger and one attired +in the garb of a chaplain, he scowled surprisedly. + +"What's this?" quoth he. "What dost want, Clo? I have no leisure +for a sermon." + +Mistress Clorinda went to the buffet and filled a tankard for +herself and carried it back to the table, on the edge of which she +half sat, with one leg bent, one foot resting on the floor. + +"Time thou wilt have to take, Dad," she said, with an arch grin, +showing two rows of gleaming pearls. "This gentleman is my Lord +Twemlow's chaplain, whom he sends to exhort you, requesting you to +have the civility to hear him." + +"Exhort be damned, and Twemlow be damned too!" cried Sir Jeoffry, +who had a great quarrel with his lordship and hated him bitterly. +"What does the canting fool mean?" + +"Sir," faltered the poor message-bearer, "his lordship hath--hath +been concerned--having heard--" + +The handsome creature balanced against the table took the tankard +from her lips and laughed. + +"Having heard thy daughter rides to field in breeches, and is an +unseemly-behaving wench," she cried, "his lordship sends his +chaplain to deliver a discourse thereon--not choosing to come +himself. Is not that thy errand, reverend sir?" + +The chaplain, poor man, turned pale, having caught, as she spoke, a +glimpse of Sir Jeoffry's reddening visage. + +"Madam," he faltered, bowing--"Madam, I ask pardon of you most +humbly! If it were your pleasure to deign to--to--allow me--" + +She set the tankard on the table with a rollicking smack, and thrust +her hands in her breeches-pockets, swaying with laughter; and, +indeed, 'twas ringing music, her rich great laugh, which, when she +grew of riper years, was much lauded and written verses on by her +numerous swains. + +"If 'twere my pleasure to go away and allow you to speak, free from +the awkwardness of a young lady's presence," she said. "But 'tis +not, as it happens, and if I stay here, I shall be a protection." + +In truth, he required one. Sir Jeoffry broke into a torrent of +blasphemy. He damned both kinsman and chaplain, and raged at the +impudence of both in daring to approach him, swearing to horsewhip +my lord if they ever met, and to have the chaplain kicked out of the +house, and beyond the park gates themselves. But Mistress Clorinda +chose to make it her whim to take it in better humour, and as a joke +with a fine point to it. She laughed at her father's storming, and +while the chaplain quailed before it with pallid countenance and +fairly hang-dog look, she seemed to find it but a cause for +outbursts of merriment. + +"Hold thy tongue a bit, Dad," she cried, when he had reached his +loudest, "and let his reverence tell us what his message is. We +have not even heard it." + +"Want not to hear it!" shouted Sir Jeoffry. "Dost think I'll stand +his impudence? Not I!" + +"What was your message?" demanded the young lady of the chaplain. +"You cannot return without delivering it. Tell it to me. I choose +it shall be told." + +The chaplain clutched and fumbled with his hat, pale, and dropping +his eyes upon the floor, for very fear. + +"Pluck up thy courage, man," said Clorinda. "I will uphold thee. +The message?" + +"Your pardon, Madam--'twas this," the chaplain faltered. "My lord +commanded me to warn your honoured father--that if he did not beg +you to leave off wearing--wearing--" + +"Breeches," said Mistress Clorinda, slapping her knee. + +The chaplain blushed with modesty, though he was a man of sallow +countenance. + +"No gentleman," he went on, going more lamely at each word-- +"notwithstanding your great beauty--no gentleman--" + +"Would marry me?" the young lady ended for him, with merciful good- +humour. + +"For if you--if a young lady be permitted to bear herself in such a +manner as will cause her to be held lightly, she can make no match +that will not be a dishonour to her family--and--and--" + +"And may do worse!" quoth Mistress Clo, and laughed until the room +rang. + +Sir Jeoffry's rage was such as made him like to burst; but she +restrained him when he would have flung his tankard at the +chaplain's head, and amid his storm of curses bundled the poor man +out of the room, picking up his hat which in his hurry and fright he +let fall, and thrusting it into his hand. + +"Tell his lordship," she said, laughing still as she spoke the final +words, "that I say he is right--and I will see to it that no +disgrace befalls him." + +"Forsooth, Dad," she said, returning, "perhaps the old son of a--"-- +something unmannerly--"is not so great a fool. As for me, I mean to +make a fine marriage and be a great lady, and I know of none +hereabouts to suit me but the old Earl of Dunstanwolde, and 'tis +said he rates at all but modest women, and, in faith, he might not +find breeches mannerly. I will not hunt in them again." + +She did not, though once or twice when she was in a wild mood, and +her father entertained at dinner those of his companions whom she +was the most inclined to, she swaggered in among them in her +daintiest suits of male attire, and caused their wine-shot eyes to +gloat over her boyish-maiden charms and jaunty airs and graces. + +On the night of her fifteenth birthday Sir Jeoffry gave a great +dinner to his boon companions and hers. She had herself commanded +that there should be no ladies at the feast; for she chose to +announce that she should appear at no more such, having the wit to +see that she was too tall a young lady for childish follies, and +that she had now arrived at an age when her market must be made. + +"I shall have women enough henceforth to be dull with," she said. +"Thou art but a poor match-maker, Dad, or wouldst have thought of it +for me. But not once has it come into thy pate that I have no +mother to angle in my cause and teach me how to cast sheep's eyes at +bachelors. Long-tailed petticoats from this time for me, and hoops +and patches, and ogling over fans--until at last, if I play my cards +well, some great lord will look my way and be taken by my shape and +my manners." + +"With thy shape, Clo, God knows every man will," laughed Sir +Jeoffry, "but I fear me not with thy manners. Thou hast the manners +of a baggage, and they are second nature to thee." + +"They are what I was born with," answered Mistress Clorinda. "They +came from him that begot me, and he has not since improved them. +But now"--making a great sweeping curtsey, her impudent bright +beauty almost dazzling his eyes--"now, after my birth-night, they +will be bettered; but this one night I will have my last fling." + +When the men trooped into the black oak wainscotted dining-hall on +the eventful night, they found their audacious young hostess +awaiting them in greater and more daring beauty than they had ever +before beheld. She wore knee-breeches of white satin, a pink satin +coat embroidered with silver roses, white silk stockings, and shoes +with great buckles of brilliants, revealing a leg so round and +strong and delicately moulded, and a foot so arched and slender, as +surely never before, they swore one and all, woman had had to +display. She met them standing jauntily astride upon the hearth, +her back to the fire, and she greeted each one as he came with some +pretty impudence. Her hair was tied back and powdered, her black +eyes were like lodestars, drawing all men, and her colour was that +of a ripe pomegranate. She had a fine, haughty little Roman nose, a +mouth like a scarlet bow, a wonderful long throat, and round cleft +chin. A dazzling mien indeed she possessed, and ready enough she +was to shine before them. Sir Jeoffry was now elderly, having been +a man of forty when united to his conjugal companion. Most of his +friends were of his own age, so that it had not been with unripe +youth Mistress Clorinda had been in the habit of consorting. But +upon this night a newcomer was among the guests. He was a young +relation of one of the older men, and having come to his kinsman's +house upon a visit, and having proved himself, in spite of his +youth, to be a young fellow of humour, high courage in the hunting- +field, and by no means averse either to entering upon or discussing +intrigue and gallant adventure, had made himself something of a +favourite. His youthful beauty for a man almost equalled that of +Mistress Clorinda herself. He had an elegant, fine shape, of great +strength and vigour, his countenance was delicately ruddy and +handsomely featured, his curling fair hair flowed loose upon his +shoulders, and, though masculine in mould, his ankle was as slender +and his buckled shoe as arched as her own. + +He was, it is true, twenty-four years of age and a man, while she +was but fifteen and a woman, but being so tall and built with such +unusual vigour of symmetry, she was a beauteous match for him, and +both being attired in fashionable masculine habit, these two pretty +young fellows standing smiling saucily at each other were a +charming, though singular, spectacle. + +This young man was already well known in the modish world of town +for his beauty and adventurous spirit. He was indeed already a beau +and conqueror of female hearts. It was suspected that he cherished +a private ambition to set the modes in beauties and embroidered +waistcoats himself in time, and be as renowned abroad and as much +the town talk as certain other celebrated beaux had been before him. +The art of ogling tenderly and of uttering soft nothings he had +learned during his first season in town, and as he had a great +melting blue eye, the figure of an Adonis, and a white and shapely +hand for a ring, he was well equipped for conquest. He had darted +many an inflaming glance at Mistress Clorinda before the first meats +were removed. Even in London he had heard a vague rumour of this +handsome young woman, bred among her father's dogs, horses, and boon +companions, and ripening into a beauty likely to make town faces +pale. He had almost fallen into the spleen on hearing that she had +left her boy's clothes and vowed she would wear them no more, as +above all things he had desired to see how she carried them and what +charms they revealed. On hearing from his host and kinsman that she +had said that on her birth-night she would bid them farewell for +ever by donning them for the last time, he was consumed with +eagerness to obtain an invitation. This his kinsman besought for +him, and, behold! the first glance the beauty shot at him pierced +his inflammable bosom like a dart. Never before had it been his +fortune to behold female charms so dazzling and eyes of such lustre +and young majesty. The lovely baggage had a saucy way of standing +with her white jewelled hands in her pockets like a pretty fop, and +throwing up her little head like a modish beauty who was of royal +blood; and these two tricks alone, he felt, might have set on fire +the heart of a man years older and colder than himself. + +If she had been of the order of soft-natured charmers, they would +have fallen into each other's eyes before the wine was changed; but +this Mistress Clorinda was not. She did not fear to meet the full +battery of his enamoured glances, but she did not choose to return +them. She played her part of the pretty young fellow who was a +high-spirited beauty, with more of wit and fire than she had ever +played it before. The rollicking hunting-squires, who had been her +play-fellows so long, devoured her with their delighted glances and +roared with laughter at her sallies. Their jokes and flatteries +were not of the most seemly, but she had not been bred to seemliness +and modesty, and was no more ignorant than if she had been, in +sooth, some gay young springald of a lad. To her it was part of the +entertainment that upon this last night they conducted themselves as +beseemed her boyish masquerading. Though country-bred, she had +lived among companions who were men of the world and lived without +restraints, and she had so far learned from them that at fifteen +years old she was as worldly and as familiar with the devices of +intrigue as she would be at forty. So far she had not been pushed +to practising them, her singular life having thrown her among few of +her own age, and those had chanced to be of a sort she disdainfully +counted as country bumpkins. + +But the young gallant introduced to-night into the world she lived +in was no bumpkin, and was a dandy of the town. His name was Sir +John Oxon, and he had just come into his title and a pretty +property. His hands were as white and bejewelled as her own, his +habit was of the latest fashionable cut, and his fair flowing locks +scattered a delicate French perfume she did not even know the name +of. + +But though she observed all these attractions and found them +powerful, young Sir John remarked, with a slight sinking qualm, that +her great eye did not fall before his amorous glances, but met them +with high smiling readiness, and her colour never blanched or +heightened a whit for all their masterly skilfulness. But he had +sworn to himself that he would approach close enough to her to fire +off some fine speech before the night was ended, and he endeavoured +to bear himself with at least an outward air of patience until he +beheld his opportunity. + +When the last dish was removed and bottles and bumpers stood upon +the board, she sprang up on her chair and stood before them all, +smiling down the long table with eyes like flashing jewels. Her +hands were thrust in her pockets--with her pretty young fop's air, +and she drew herself to her full comely height, her beauteous lithe +limbs and slender feet set smartly together. Twenty pairs of +masculine eyes were turned upon her beauty, but none so ardently as +the young one's across the table. + +"Look your last on my fine shape," she proclaimed in her high, rich +voice. "You will see but little of the lower part of it when it is +hid in farthingales and petticoats. Look your last before I go to +don my fine lady's furbelows." + +And when they filled their glasses and lifted them and shouted +admiring jests to her, she broke into one of her stable-boy songs, +and sang it in the voice of a skylark. + +No man among them was used to showing her the courtesies of polite +breeding. She had been too long a boy to them for that to have +entered any mind, and when she finished her song, sprang down, and +made for the door, Sir John beheld his long-looked-for chance, and +was there before her to open it with a great bow, made with his hand +upon his heart and his fair locks falling. + +"You rob us of the rapture of beholding great beauties, Madam," he +said in a low, impassioned voice. "But there should be indeed but +ONE happy man whose bliss it is to gaze upon such perfections." + +"I am fifteen years old to-night," she answered; "and as yet I have +not set eyes upon him." + +"How do you know that, madam?" he said, bowing lower still. + +She laughed her great rich laugh. + +"Forsooth, I do not know," she retorted. "He may be here this very +night among this company; and as it might be so, I go to don my +modesty." + +And she bestowed on him a parting shot in the shape of one of her +prettiest young fop waves of the hand, and was gone from him. + +* * * + +When the door closed behind her and Sir John Oxon returned to the +table, for a while a sort of dulness fell upon the party. Not being +of quick minds or sentiments, these country roisterers failed to +understand the heavy cloud of spleen and lack of spirit they +experienced, and as they filled their glasses and tossed off one +bumper after another to cure it, they soon began again to laugh and +fell into boisterous joking. + +They talked mostly, indeed, of their young playfellow, of whom they +felt, in some indistinct manner, they were to be bereft; they +rallied Sir Jeoffry, told stories of her childhood and made pictures +of her budding beauties, comparing them with those of young ladies +who were celebrated toasts. + +"She will sail among them like a royal frigate," said one; "and they +will pale before her lustre as a tallow dip does before an +illumination." + +The clock struck twelve before she returned to them. Just as the +last stroke sounded the door was thrown open, and there she stood, a +woman on each side of her, holding a large silver candelabra bright +with wax tapers high above her, so that she was in a flood of light. + +She was attired in rich brocade of crimson and silver, and wore a +great hooped petticoat, which showed off her grandeur, her waist of +no more bigness than a man's hands could clasp, set in its midst +like the stem of a flower; her black hair was rolled high and +circled with jewels, her fair long throat blazed with a collar of +diamonds, and the majesty of her eye and lip and brow made up a mien +so dazzling that every man sprang to his feet beholding her. + +She made a sweeping obeisance and then stood up before them, her +head thrown back and her lips curving in the triumphant mocking +smile of a great beauty looking upon them all as vassals. + +"Down upon your knees," she cried, "and drink to me kneeling. From +this night all men must bend so--all men on whom I deign to cast my +eyes." + + + +CHAPTER V--"Not I," said she. "There thou mayst trust me. I would +not be found out." + + + +She went no more a-hunting in boy's clothes, but from this time +forward wore brocades and paduasoys, fine lawn and lace. Her +tirewoman was kept so busily engaged upon making rich habits, +fragrant waters and essences, and so running at her bidding to +change her gown or dress her head in some new fashion, that her life +was made to her a weighty burden to bear, and also a painful one. +Her place had before been an easy one but for her mistress's +choleric temper, but it was so no more. Never had young lady been +so exacting and so tempestuous when not pleased with the adorning of +her face and shape. In the presence of polite strangers, whether +ladies or gentlemen, Mistress Clorinda in these days chose to +chasten her language and give less rein to her fantastical passions, +but alone in her closet with her woman, if a riband did but not suit +her fancy, or a hoop not please, she did not fear to be as +scurrilous as she chose. In this discreet retirement she rapped out +oaths and boxed her woman's ears with a vigorous hand, tore off her +gowns and stamped them beneath her feet, or flung pots of pomade at +the poor woman's head. She took these freedoms with such a +readiness and spirit that she was served with a despatch and +humbleness scarcely to be equalled, and, it is certain, never +excelled. + +The high courage and undaunted will which had been the engines she +had used to gain her will from her infant years aided her in these +days to carry out what her keen mind and woman's wit had designed, +which was to take the county by storm with her beauty, and reign +toast and enslaver until such time as she won the prize of a husband +of rich estates and notable rank. + +It was soon bruited abroad, to the amazement of the county, that +Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had changed her strange and unseemly +habits of life, and had become as much a young lady of fashion and +breeding as her birth and charm demanded. This was first made known +by her appearing one Sunday morning at church, accompanied--as +though attended with a retinue of servitors--by Mistress Wimpole and +her two sisters, whose plain faces, awkward shape, and still more +awkward attire were such a foil to her glowing loveliness as set it +in high relief. It was seldom that the coach from Wildairs Hall +drew up before the lych-gate, but upon rare Sunday mornings Mistress +Wimpole and her two charges contrived, if Sir Jeoffry was not in an +ill-humour and the coachman was complaisant, to be driven to +service. Usually, however, they trudged afoot, and, if the day +chanced to be sultry, arrived with their snub-nosed faces of a high +and shiny colour, or if the country roads were wet, with their +petticoats bemired. + +This morning, when the coach drew up, the horses were well groomed, +the coachman smartly dressed, and a footman was in attendance, who +sprang to earth and opened the door with a flourish. + +The loiterers in the churchyard, and those who were approaching the +gate or passing towards the church porch, stared with eyes wide +stretched in wonder and incredulity. Never had such a thing before +been beheld or heard of as what they now saw in broad daylight. + +Mistress Clorinda, clad in highest town fashion, in brocades and +silver lace and splendid fur-belows, stepped forth from the chariot +with the air of a queen. She had the majestic composure of a young +lady who had worn nothing less modish than such raiment all her +life, and who had prayed decorously beneath her neighbours' eyes +since she had left her nurse's care. + +Her sisters and their governess looked timorous, and as if they knew +not where to cast their eyes for shamefacedness; but not so Mistress +Clorinda, who moved forward with a stately, swimming gait, her fine +head in the air. As she stepped into the porch a young gentleman +drew back and made a profound obeisance to her. She cast her eyes +upon him and returned it with a grace and condescension which struck +the beholders dumb with admiring awe. To some of the people of a +commoner sort he was a stranger, but all connected with the gentry +knew he was Sir John Oxon, who was staying at Eldershawe Park with +his relative, whose estate it was. + +How Mistress Clorinda contrived to manage it no one was aware but +herself, but after a few appearances at church she appeared at other +places. She was seen at dinners at fine houses, and began to be +seen at routs and balls. Where she was seen she shone, and with +such radiance as caused matchmaking matrons great dismay, and their +daughters woeful qualms. Once having shone, she could not be +extinguished or hidden under a bushel; for, being of rank and highly +connected through mother as well as father, and playing her cards +with great wit and skill, she could not be thrust aside. + +At her first hunt ball she set aflame every male breast in the +shire, unmasking such a battery of charms as no man could withstand +the fire of. Her dazzling eye, her wondrous shape, the rich music +of her laugh, and the mocking wit of her sharp saucy tongue were +weapons to have armed a dozen women, and she was but one, and in the +first rich tempting glow of blooming youth. + +She turned more heads and caused more quarrels than she could have +counted had she sat up half the night. She went to her coach with +her father followed by a dozen gallants, each ready to spit the +other for a smile. Her smiles were wondrous, but there seemed +always a touch of mockery or disdain in them which made them more +remembered than if they had been softer. + +One man there was, who perchance found something in her high glance +not wholly scornful, but he was used to soft treatment from women, +and had, in sooth, expected milder glances than were bestowed upon +him. This was young Sir John Oxon, who had found himself among the +fair sex that night as great a beau as she had been a belle; but two +dances he had won from her, and this was more than any other man +could boast, and what other gallants envied him with darkest hatred. + +Sir Jeoffry, who had watched her as she queened it amongst rakes and +fops and honest country squires and knights, had marked the vigour +with which they plied her with an emotion which was a new sensation +to his drink-bemuddled brain. So far as it was in his nature to +love another than himself, he had learned to love this young lovely +virago of his own flesh and blood, perchance because she was the +only creature who had never quailed before him, and had always known +how to bend him to her will. + +When the chariot rode away, he looked at her as she sat erect in the +early morning light, as unblenching, bright, and untouched in bloom +as if she had that moment risen from her pillow and washed her face +in dew. He was not so drunk as he had been at midnight, but he was +a little maudlin. + +"By God, thou art handsome, Clo!" he said. "By God, I never saw a +finer woman!" + +"Nor I," she answered back, "which I thank Heaven for." + +"Thou pretty, brazen baggage," her father laughed. "Old +Dunstanwolde looked thee well over to-night. He never looked away +from the moment he clapped eyes on thee." + +"That I knew better than thee, Dad," said the beauty; "and I saw +that he could not have done it if he had tried. If there comes no +richer, younger great gentleman, he shall marry me." + +"Thou hast a sharp eye and a keen wit," said Sir Jeoffry, looking +askance at her with a new maggot in his brain. "Wouldst never play +the fool, I warrant. They will press thee hard and 'twill be hard +to withstand their lovemaking, but I shall never have to mount and +ride off with pistols in my holsters to bring back a man and make +him marry thee, as Chris Crowell had to do for his youngest wench. +Thou wouldst never play the fool, I warrant--wouldst thou, Clo?" + +She tossed her head and laughed like a young scornful devil, showing +her white pearl teeth between her lips' scarlet. + +"Not I," she said. "There thou mayst trust me. I would not be +found out." + +She played her part as triumphant beauty so successfully that the +cleverest managing mother in the universe could not have bettered +her position. Gallants brawled for her; honest men fell at her +feet; romantic swains wrote verses to her, praising her eyes, her +delicate bosom, the carnation of her cheek, and the awful majesty of +her mien. In every revel she was queen, in every contest of +beauties Venus, in every spectacle of triumph empress of them all. + +The Earl of Dunstanwolde, who had the oldest name and the richest +estates in his own county and the six adjoining ones, who, having +made a love-match in his prime, and lost wife and heir but a year +after his nuptials, had been the despair of every maid and mother +who knew him, because he would not be melted to a marriageable mood. +After the hunt ball this mourning nobleman, who was by this time of +ripe years, had appeared in the world again as he had not done for +many years. Before many months had elapsed, it was known that his +admiration of the new beauty was confessed, and it was believed that +he but waited further knowledge of her to advance to the point of +laying his title and estates at her feet. + +But though, two years before, the entire county would have rated low +indeed the wit and foresight of the man who had even hinted the +possibility of such honour and good fortune being in prospect for +the young lady, so great was Mistress Clorinda's brilliant and noble +beauty, and with such majesty she bore herself in these times, that +there were even those who doubted whether she would think my lord a +rich enough prize for her, and if, when he fell upon his knees, she +would deign to become his countess, feeling that she had such +splendid wares to dispose of as might be bartered for a duke, when +she went to town and to court. + +During the length of more than one man's lifetime after, the reign +of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs was a memory recalled over the bottle +at the dining-table among men, some of whom had but heard their +fathers vaunt her beauties. It seemed as if in her person there was +not a single flaw, or indeed a charm, which had not reached the +highest point of beauty. For shape she might have vied with young +Diana, mounted side by side with her upon a pedestal; her raven +locks were of a length and luxuriance to clothe her as a garment, +her great eye commanded and flashed as Juno's might have done in the +goddess's divinest moments of lovely pride, and though it was said +none ever saw it languish, each man who adored her was maddened by +the secret belief that Venus' self could not so melt in love as she +if she would stoop to loving--as each one prayed she might--himself. +Her hands and feet, her neck, the slimness of her waist, her +mantling crimson and ivory white, her little ear, her scarlet lip, +the pearls between them and her long white throat, were perfection +each and all, and catalogued with oaths of rapture. + +"She hath such beauties," one admirer said, "that a man must toast +them all and cannot drink to her as to a single woman. And she hath +so many that to slight none her servant must go from the table +reeling." + +There was but one thing connected with her which was not a weapon to +her hand, and this was, that she was not a fortune. Sir Jeoffry had +drunk and rioted until he had but little left. He had cut his +timber and let his estate go to rack, having, indeed, no money to +keep it up. The great Hall, which had once been a fine old place, +was almost a ruin. Its carved oak and noble rooms and galleries +were all of its past splendours that remained. All had been sold +that could be sold, and all the outcome had been spent. The county, +indeed, wondered where Mistress Clorinda's fine clothes came from, +and knew full well why she was not taken to court to kneel to the +Queen. That she was waiting for this to make her match, the envious +were quite sure, and did not hesitate to whisper pretty loudly. + +The name of one man of rank and fortune after another was spoken of +as that of a suitor to her hand, but in some way it was discovered +that she refused them all. It was also known that they continued to +worship her, and that at any moment she could call even the best +among them back. It seemed that, while all the men were enamoured +of her, there was not one who could cure himself of his passion, +however hopeless it might be. + +Her wit was as great as her beauty, and she had a spirit before +which no man could stand if she chose to be disdainful. To some she +was so, and had the whim to flout them with great brilliancy. +Encounters with her were always remembered, and if heard by those +not concerned, were considered worthy both of recollection and of +being repeated to the world; she had a tongue so nimble and a wit so +full of fire. + +Young Sir John Oxon's visit to his relative at Eldershawe being at +an end, he returned to town, and remaining there through a few weeks +of fashionable gaiety, won new reputations as a triumpher over the +female heart. He made some renowned conquests and set the mode in +some new essences and sword-knots. But even these triumphs appeared +to pall upon him shortly, since he deserted the town and returned +again to the country, where, on this occasion, he did not stay with +his relative, but with Sir Jeoffry himself, who had taken a +boisterous fancy to him. + +It had been much marked since the altered life of Mistress Clorinda +that she, who had previously defied all rules laid down on behaviour +for young ladies, and had been thought to do so because she knew +none of them, now proved that her wild fashion had been but +wilfulness, since it was seen that she must have observed and marked +manners with the best. There seemed no decorum she did not know how +to observe with the most natural grace. It was, indeed, all grace +and majesty, there being no suggestion of the prude about her, but +rather the manner of a young lady having been born with pride and +stateliness, and most carefully bred. This was the result of her +wondrous wit, the highness of her talents, and the strength of her +will, which was of such power that she could carry out without fail +anything she chose to undertake. There are some women who have +beauty, and some who have wit or vigour of understanding, but she +possessed all three, and with them such courage and strength of +nerve as would have well equipped a man. + +Quick as her wit was and ready as were her brilliant quips and +sallies, there was no levity in her demeanour, and she kept Mistress +Margery Wimpole in discreet attendance upon her, as if she had been +the daughter of a Spanish Hidalgo, never to be approached except in +the presence of her duenna. Poor Mistress Margery, finding her old +fears removed, was overpowered with new ones. She had no +lawlessness or hoyden manners to contend with, but instead a +haughtiness so high and demands so great that her powers could +scarcely satisfy the one or her spirit stand up before the other. + +"It is as if one were lady-in-waiting to her Majesty's self," she +used to whimper when she was alone and dare do so. "Surely the +Queen has not such a will and such a temper. She will have me toil +to look worthy of her in my habit, and bear myself like a duchess in +dignity. Alack! I have practised my obeisance by the hour to +perfect it, so that I may escape her wrath. And I must know how to +look, and when and where to sit, and with what air of being near at +hand, while I must see nothing! And I must drag my failing limbs +hither and thither with genteel ease while I ache from head to foot, +being neither young nor strong." + +The poor lady was so overawed by, and yet so admired, her charge, +that it was piteous to behold. + +"She is an arrant fool," quoth Mistress Clorinda to her father. "A +nice duenna she would be, forsooth, if she were with a woman who +needed watching. She could be hoodwinked as it pleased me a dozen +times a day. It is I who am her guard, not she mine! But a beauty +must drag some spy about with her, it seems, and she I can make to +obey me like a spaniel. We can afford no better, and she is well +born, and since I bought her the purple paduasoy and the new lappets +she has looked well enough to serve." + +"Dunstanwolde need not fear for thee now," said Sir Jeoffry. "Thou +art a clever and foreseeing wench, Clo." + +"Dunstanwolde nor any man!" she answered. "There will be no gossip +of me. It is Anne and Barbara thou must look to, Dad, lest their +plain faces lead them to show soft hearts. My face is my fortune!" + +When Sir John Oxon paid his visit to Sir Jeoffry the days of +Mistress Margery were filled with carking care. The night before he +arrived, Mistress Clorinda called her to her closet and laid upon +her her commands in her own high way. She was under her woman's +hands, and while her great mantle of black hair fell over the back +of her chair and lay on the floor, her tirewoman passing the brush +over it, lock by lock, she was at her greatest beauty. Either she +had been angered or pleased, for her cheek wore a bloom even deeper +and richer than usual, and there was a spark like a diamond under +the fringe of her lashes. + +At her first timorous glance at her, Mistress Margery thought she +must have been angered, the spark so burned in her eyes, and so +evident was the light but quick heave of her bosom; but the next +moment it seemed as if she must be in a pleasant humour, for a +little smile deepened the dimples in the corner of her bowed, full +lips. But quickly she looked up and resumed her stately air. + +"This gentleman who comes to visit to-morrow," she said, "Sir John +Oxon--do you know aught of him?" + +"But little, Madame," Mistress Margery answered with fear and +humility. + +"Then it will be well that you should, since I have commands to lay +upon you concerning him," said the beauty. + +"You do me honour," said the poor gentlewoman. + +Mistress Clorinda looked her straight in the face. + +"He is a gentleman from town, the kinsman of Lord Eldershawe," she +said. "He is a handsome man, concerning whom many women have been +fools. He chooses to allow it to be said that he is a conqueror of +female hearts and virtue, even among women of fashion and rank. If +this be said in the town, what may not be said in the country? He +shall wear no such graces here. He chooses to pay his court to me. +He is my father's guest and a man of fashion. Let him make as many +fine speeches as he has the will to. I will listen or not as I +choose. I am used to words. But see that we are not left alone." + +The tirewoman pricked up her ears. Clorinda saw her in the glass. + +"Attend to thy business if thou dost not want a box o' the ear," she +said in a tone which made the woman start. + +"You would not be left alone with the gentleman, Madam?" faltered +Mistress Margery. + +"If he comes to boast of conquests," said Mistress Clorinda, looking +at her straight again and drawing down her black brows, "I will play +as cleverly as he. He cannot boast greatly of one whom he never +makes his court to but in the presence of a kinswoman of ripe years. +Understand that this is to be your task." + +"I will remember," Madam, answered Mistress Margery. "I will bear +myself as you command." + +"That is well," said Mistress Clorinda. "I will keep you no more. +You may go." + + + +CHAPTER VI--Relating how Mistress Anne discovered a miniature + + + +The good gentlewoman took her leave gladly. She had spent a life in +timid fears of such things and persons as were not formed by Nature +to excite them, but never had she experienced such humble terrors as +those with which Mistress Clorinda inspired her. Never did she +approach her without inward tremor, and never did she receive +permission to depart from her presence without relief. And yet her +beauty and wit and spirit had no admirer regarding them with more of +wondering awe. + +In the bare west wing of the house, comfortless though the neglect +of its master had made it, there was one corner where she was +unafraid. Her first charges, Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne, +were young ladies of gentle spirit. Their sister had said of them +that their spirit was as poor as their looks. It could not be said +of them by any one that they had any pretension to beauty, but that +which Mistress Clorinda rated at as poor spirit was the one element +of comfort in their poor dependent kinswoman's life. They gave her +no ill words, they indulged in no fantastical whims and vapours, and +they did not even seem to expect other entertainment than to walk +the country roads, to play with their little lap-dog Cupid, wind +silks for their needlework, and please themselves with their +embroidery-frames. + +To them their sister appeared a goddess whom it would be +presumptuous to approach in any frame of mind quite ordinary. Her +beauty must be heightened by rich adornments, while their plain +looks were left without the poorest aid. It seemed but fitting that +what there was to spend must be spent on her. They showed no signs +of resentment, and took with gratitude such cast-off finery as she +deigned at times to bestow upon them, when it was no longer useful +to herself. She was too full of the occupations of pleasure to have +had time to notice them, even if her nature had inclined her to the +observance of family affections. It was their habit, when they knew +of her going out in state, to watch her incoming and outgoing +through a peep-hole in a chamber window. Mistress Margery told them +stories of her admirers and of her triumphs, of the county gentlemen +of fortune who had offered themselves to her, and of the modes of +life in town of the handsome Sir John Oxon, who, without doubt, was +of the circle of her admiring attendants, if he had not fallen +totally her victim, as others had. + +Of the two young women, it was Mistress Anne who had the more parts, +and the attraction of the mind the least dull. In sooth, Nature had +dealt with both in a niggardly fashion, but Mistress Barbara was the +plainer and the more foolish. Mistress Anne had, perchance, the +tenderer feelings, and was in secret given to a certain +sentimentality. She was thin and stooping, and had but a muddy +complexion; her hair was heavy, it is true, but its thickness and +weight seemed naught but an ungrateful burden; and she had a dull, +soft eye. In private she was fond of reading such romances as she +could procure by stealth from the library of books gathered together +in past times by some ancestor Sir Jeoffry regarded as an idiot. +Doubtless she met with strange reading in the volumes she took to +her closet, and her simple virgin mind found cause for the solving +of many problems; but from the pages she contrived to cull stories +of lordly lovers and cruel or kind beauties, whose romances created +for her a strange world of pleasure in the midst of her loneliness. +Poor, neglected young female, with every guileless maiden instinct +withered at birth, she had need of some tender dreams to dwell upon, +though Fate herself seemed to have decreed that they must be no more +than visions. + +It was, in sooth, always the beauteous Clorinda about whose charms +she builded her romances. In her great power she saw that for which +knights fought in tourney and great kings committed royal sins, and +to her splendid beauty she had in secrecy felt that all might be +forgiven. She cherished such fancies of her, that one morning, when +she believed her absent from the house, she stole into the corridor +upon which Clorinda's apartment opened. Her first timid thought had +been, that if a chamber door were opened she might catch a glimpse +of some of the splendours her sister's woman was surely laying out +for her wearing at a birth-night ball, at the house of one of the +gentry of the neighbourhood. But it so happened that she really +found the door of entrance open, which, indeed, she had not more +than dared to hope, and finding it so, she stayed her footsteps to +gaze with beating heart within. On the great bed, which was of +carved oak and canopied with tattered tapestry, there lay spread +such splendours as she had never beheld near to before. 'Twas blue +and silver brocade Mistress Clorinda was to shine in to-night; it +lay spread forth in all its dimensions. The beautiful bosom and +shoulders were to be bared to the eyes of scores of adorers, but +rich lace was to set their beauties forth, and strings of pearls. +Why Sir Jeoffry had not sold his lady's jewels before he became +enamoured of her six-year-old child it would be hard to explain. +There was a great painted fan with jewels in the sticks, and on the +floor--as if peeping forth from beneath the bravery of the expanded +petticoats--was a pair of blue and silver shoes, high-heeled and +arched and slender. In gazing at them Mistress Anne lost her +breath, thinking that in some fashion they had a regal air of being +made to trample hearts beneath them. + +To the gentle, hapless virgin, to whom such possessions were as the +wardrobe of a queen, the temptation to behold them near was too +great. She could not forbear from passing the threshold, and she +did with heaving breast. She approached the bed and gazed; she +dared to touch the scented gloves that lay by the outspread +petticoat of blue and silver; she even laid a trembling finger upon +the pointed bodice, which was so slender that it seemed small enough +for even a child. + +"Ah me," she sighed gently, "how beautiful she will be! How +beautiful! And all of them will fall at her feet, as is not to be +wondered at. And it was always so all her life, even when she was +an infant, and all gave her her will because of her beauty and her +power. She hath a great power. Barbara and I are not so. We are +dull and weak, and dare not speak our minds. It is as if we were +creatures of another world; but He who rules all things has so +willed it for us. He has given it to us for our portion--our +portion." + +Her dull, poor face dropped a little as she spoke the words, and her +eyes fell upon the beauteous tiny shoes, which seemed to trample +even when no foot was within them. She stooped to take one in her +hand, but as she was about to lift it something which seemed to have +been dropped upon the floor, and to have rolled beneath the valance +of the bed, touched her hand. It was a thing to which a riband was +attached--an ivory miniature--and she picked it up wondering. She +stood up gazing at it, in such bewilderment to find her eyes upon it +that she scarce knew what she did. She did not mean to pry; she +would not have had the daring so to do if she had possessed the +inclination. But the instant her eyes told her what they saw, she +started and blushed as she had never blushed before in her tame +life. The warm rose mantled her cheeks, and even suffused the neck +her chaste kerchief hid. Her eye kindled with admiration and an +emotion new to her indeed. + +"How beautiful!" she said. "He is like a young Adonis, and has the +bearing of a royal prince! How can it--by what strange chance hath +it come here?" + +She had not regarded it more than long enough to have uttered these +words, when a fear came upon her, and she felt that she had fallen +into misfortune. + +"What must I do with it?" she trembled. "What will she say, whether +she knows of its being within the chamber or not? She will be angry +with me that I have dared to touch it. What shall I do?" + +She regarded it again with eyes almost suffused. Her blush and the +sensibility of her emotion gave to her plain countenance a new +liveliness of tint and expression. + +"I will put it back where I found it," she said, "and the one who +knows it will find it later. It cannot be she--it cannot be she! +If I laid it on her table she would rate me bitterly--and she can be +bitter when she will." + +She bent and placed it within the shadow of the valance again, and +as she felt it touch the hard oak of the polished floor her bosom +rose with a soft sigh. + +"It is an unseemly thing to do," she said; "'tis as though one were +uncivil; but I dare not--I dare not do otherwise." + +She would have turned to leave the apartment, being much overcome by +the incident, but just as she would have done so she heard the sound +of horses' feet through the window by which she must pass, and +looked out to see if it was Clorinda who was returning from her +ride. Mistress Clorinda was a matchless horsewoman, and a marvel of +loveliness and spirit she looked when she rode, sitting upon a horse +such as no other woman dared to mount--always an animal of the +greatest beauty, but of so dangerous a spirit that her riding-whip +was loaded like a man's. + +This time it was not she; and when Mistress Anne beheld the young +gentleman who had drawn rein in the court she started backward and +put her hand to her heart, the blood mantling her pale cheek again +in a flood. But having started back, the next instant she started +forward to gaze again, all her timid soul in her eyes. + +"'Tis he!" she panted; "'tis he himself! He hath come in hope to +speak with my sister, and she is abroad. Poor gentleman, he hath +come in such high spirit, and must ride back heavy of heart. How +comely, and how finely clad he is!" + +He was, in sooth, with his rich riding-habit, his handsome face, his +plumed hat, and the sun shining on the fair luxuriant locks which +fell beneath it. It was Sir John Oxon, and he was habited as when +he rode in the park in town and the court was there. Not so were +attired the country gentry whom Anne had been wont to see, though +many of them were well mounted, knowing horseflesh and naught else, +as they did. + +She pressed her cheek against the side of the oriel window, over +which the ivy grew thickly. She was so intent that she could not +withdraw her gaze. She watched him as he turned away, having +received his dismissal, and she pressed her face closer that she +might follow him as he rode down the long avenue of oak-trees, his +servant riding behind. + +Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him +from her sight; and even then the spell was not dissolved, and she +still regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind +her made her start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and +rich, and when she so started and turned to see whom it might be, +she beheld her sister Clorinda, who was standing just within the +threshold, as if movement had been arrested by what had met her eye +as she came in. Poor Anne put her hand to her side again. + +"Oh sister!" she gasped; "oh sister!" but could say no more. + +She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been +out at all, for she was in home attire; and even in the midst of her +trepidation there sprang into Anne's mind the awful thought that +through some servant's blunder the comely young visitor had been +sent away. For herself, she expected but to be driven forth with +wrathful, disdainful words for her presumption. For what else could +she hope from this splendid creature, who, while of her own flesh +and blood, had never seemed to regard her as being more than a poor +superfluous underling? But strangely enough, there was no anger in +Clorinda's eyes; she but laughed, as though what she had seen had +made her merry. + +"You here, Anne," she said, "and looking with light-mindedness after +gallant gentlemen! Mistress Margery should see to this and watch +more closely, or we shall have unseemly stories told. YOU, sister, +with your modest face and bashfulness! I had not thought it of +you." + +Suddenly she crossed the room to where her sister stood drooping, +and seized her by the shoulder, so that she could look her well in +the face. + +"What," she said, with a mocking not quite harsh--"What is this? +Does a glance at a fine gallant, even taken from behind an oriel +window, make such change indeed? I never before saw this look, nor +this colour, forsooth; it hath improved thee wondrously, Anne-- +wondrously." + +"Sister," faltered Anne, "I so desired to see your birth-night ball- +gown, of which Mistress Margery hath much spoken--I so desired--I +thought it would not matter if, the door being open and it spread +forth upon the bed--I--I stole a look at it. And then I was +tempted--and came in." + +"And then was tempted more," Clorinda laughed, still regarding her +downcast countenance shrewdly, "by a thing far less to be resisted-- +a fine gentleman from town, with love-locks falling on his shoulders +and ladies' hearts strung at his saddle-bow by scores. Which found +you the most beautiful?" + +"Your gown is splendid, sister," said Anne, with modest shyness. +"There will be no beauty who will wear another like it; or should +there be one, she will not carry it as you will." + +"But the man--the man, Anne," Clorinda laughed again. "What of the +man?" + +Anne plucked up just enough of her poor spirit to raise her eyes to +the brilliant ones that mocked at her. + +"With such gentlemen, sister," she said, "is it like that I have +aught to do?" + +Mistress Clorinda dropped her hand and left laughing. + +"'Tis true," she said, "it is not; but for this one time, Anne, thou +lookest almost a woman." + +"'Tis not beauty alone that makes womanhood," said Anne, her head on +her breast again. "In some book I have read that--that it is mostly +pain. I am woman enough for that." + +"You have read--you have read," quoted Clorinda. "You are the +bookworm, I remember, and filch romances and poems from the shelves. +And you have read that it is mostly pain that makes a woman? 'Tis +not true. 'Tis a poor lie. I am a woman and I do not suffer--for I +WILL not, that I swear! And when I take an oath I keep it, mark +you! It is men women suffer for; that was what your scholar meant-- +for such fine gentlemen as the one you have just watched while he +rode away. More fools they! No man shall make ME womanly in such a +fashion, I promise you! Let THEM wince and kneel; I will not." + +"Sister," Anne faltered, "I thought you were not within. The +gentleman who rode away--did the servants know?" + +"That did they," quoth Clorinda, mocking again. "They knew that I +would not receive him to-day, and so sent him away. He might have +known as much himself, but he is an arrant popinjay, and thinks all +women wish to look at his fine shape, and hear him flatter them when +he is in the mood." + +"You would not--let him enter?" + +Clorinda threw her graceful body into a chair with more light +laughter. + +"I would not", she answered. "You cannot understand such +ingratitude, poor Anne; you would have treated him more softly. Sit +down and talk to me, and I will show thee my furbelows myself. All +women like to chatter of their laced bodices and petticoats. THAT +is what makes a woman." + +Anne was tremulous with relief and pleasure. It was as if a queen +had bid her to be seated. She sat almost with the humble lack of +case a serving-woman might have shown. She had never seen Clorinda +wear such an air before, and never had she dreamed that she would so +open herself to any fellow-creature. She knew but little of what +her sister was capable--of the brilliancy of her charm when she +chose to condescend, of the deigning softness of her manner when she +chose to please, of her arch-pleasantries and cutting wit, and of +the strange power she could wield over any human being, gentle or +simple, with whom she came in contact. But if she had not known of +these things before, she learned to know them this morning. For +some reason best known to herself, Mistress Clorinda was in a high +good humour. She kept Anne with her for more than an hour, and was +dazzling through every moment of its passing. She showed her the +splendours she was to shine in at the birth-night ball, even +bringing forth her jewels and displaying them. She told her stories +of the house of which the young heir to-day attained his majority, +and mocked at the poor youth because he was ungainly, and at a +distance had been her slave since his nineteenth year. + +"I have scarce looked at him," she said. "He is a lout, with great +eyes staring, and a red nose. It does not need that one should look +at men to win them. They look at us, and that is enough." + +To poor Mistress Anne, who had seen no company and listened to no +wits, the entertainment bestowed upon her was as wonderful as a +night at the playhouse would have been. To watch the vivid changing +face; to hearken to jesting stories of men and women who seemed like +the heroes and heroines of her romances; to hear love itself--the +love she trembled and palpitated at the mere thought of--spoken of +openly as an experience which fell to all; to hear it mocked at with +dainty or biting quips; to learn that women of all ages played with, +enjoyed, or lost themselves for it--it was with her as if a nun had +been withdrawn from her cloister and plunged into the vortex of the +world. + +"Sister," she said, looking at the Beauty with humble, adoring eyes, +"you make me feel that my romances are true. You tell such things. +It is like seeing pictures of things to hear you talk. No wonder +that all listen to you, for indeed 'tis wonderful the way you have +with words. You use them so that 'tis as though they had shapes of +their own and colours, and you builded with them. I thank you for +being so gracious to me, who have seen so little, and cannot tell +the poor, quiet things I have seen." + +And being led into the loving boldness by her gratitude, she bent +forward and touched with her lips the fair hand resting on the +chair's arm. + +Mistress Clorinda fixed her fine eyes upon her in a new way. + +"I' faith, it doth not seem fair, Anne," she said. "I should not +like to change lives with thee. Thou hast eyes like a shot +pheasant--soft, and with the bright hid beneath the dull. Some man +might love them, even if thou art no beauty. Stay," suddenly; +"methinks--" + +She uprose from her chair and went to the oaken wardrobe, and threw +the door of it open wide while she looked within. + +"There is a gown and tippet or so here, and a hood and some ribands +I might do without," she said. "My woman shall bear them to your +chamber, and show you how to set them to rights. She is a nimble- +fingered creature, and a gown of mine would give almost stuff enough +to make you two. Then some days, when I am not going abroad and +Mistress Margery frets me too much, I will send for you to sit with +me, and you shall listen to the gossip when a visitor drops in to +have a dish of tea." + +Anne would have kissed her feet then, if she had dared to do so. +She blushed red all over, and adored her with a more worshipping +gaze than before. + +"I should not have dared to hope so much," she stammered. "I could +not--perhaps it is not fitting--perhaps I could not bear myself as I +should. I would try to show myself a gentlewoman and seemly. I--I +AM a gentlewoman, though I have learned so little. I could not be +aught but a gentlewoman, could I, sister, being of your own blood +and my parents' child?" half afraid to presume even this much. + +"No," said Clorinda. "Do not be a fool, Anne, and carry yourself +too humbly before the world. You can be as humble as you like to +me." + +"I shall--I shall be your servant and worship you, sister," cried +the poor soul, and she drew near and kissed again the white hand +which had bestowed with such royal bounty all this joy. It would +not have occurred to her that a cast-off robe and riband were but +small largesse. + +It was not a minute after this grateful caress that Clorinda made a +sharp movement--a movement which was so sharp that it seemed to be +one of dismay. At first, as if involuntarily, she had raised her +hand to her tucker, and after doing so she started--though 'twas but +for a second's space, after which her face was as it had been +before. + +"What is it?" exclaimed Anne. "Have you lost anything?" + +"No," quoth Mistress Clorinda quite carelessly, as she once more +turned to the contents of the oaken wardrobe; "but I thought I +missed a trinket I was wearing for a wager, and I would not lose it +before the bet is won." + +"Sister," ventured Anne before she left her and went away to her own +dull world in the west wing, "there is a thing I can do if you will +allow me. I can mend your tapestry hangings which have holes in +them. I am quick at my needle, and should love to serve you in such +poor ways as I can; and it is not seemly that they should be so +worn. All things about you should be beautiful and well kept." + +"Can you make these broken things beautiful?" said Clorinda. "Then +indeed you shall. You may come here to mend them when you will." + +"They are very fine hangings, though so old and ill cared for," said +Anne, looking up at them; "and I shall be only too happy sitting +here thinking of all you are doing while I am at my work." + +"Thinking of all I am doing?" laughed Mistress Clorinda. "That +would give you such wondrous things to dream of, Anne, that you +would have no time for your needle, and my hangings would stay as +they are." + +"I can think and darn also," said Mistress Anne, "so I will come." + + + +CHAPTER VII--'Twas the face of Sir John Oxon the moon shone upon + + + +From that time henceforward into the young woman's dull life there +came a little change. It did not seem a little change to her, but a +great one, though to others it would have seemed slight indeed. She +was an affectionate, house-wifely creature, who would have made the +best of wives and mothers if it had been so ordained by Fortune, and +something of her natural instincts found outlet in the furtive +service she paid her sister, who became the empress of her soul. +She darned and patched the tattered hangings with a wonderful +neatness, and the hours she spent at work in the chamber were to her +almost as sacred as hours spent at religious duty, or as those nuns +and novices give to embroidering altar-cloths. There was a +brightness in the room that seemed in no other in the house, and the +lingering essences in the air of it were as incense to her. In +secrecy she even busied herself with keeping things in better order +than Rebecca, Mistress Clorinda's woman, had ever had time to do +before. She also contrived to get into her own hands some duties +that were Rebecca's own. She could mend lace cleverly and arrange +riband-knots with taste, and even change the fashion of a gown. The +hard-worked tirewoman was but too glad to be relieved, and kept her +secret well, being praised many times for the set or fashion of a +thing into which she had not so much as set a needle. Being a +shrewd baggage, she was wise enough always to relate to Anne the +story of her mistress's pleasure, having the wit to read in her +delight that she would be encouraged to fresh effort. + +At times it so befell that, when Anne went into the bed-chamber, she +found the beauty there, who, if she chanced to be in the humour, +would detain her in her presence for a space and bewitch her over +again. In sooth, it seemed that she took a pleasure in showing her +female adorer how wondrously full of all fascinations she could be. +At such times Anne's plain face would almost bloom with excitement, +and her shot pheasant's eyes would glow as if beholding a goddess. + +She neither saw nor heard more of the miniature on the riband. It +used to make her tremble at times to fancy that by some strange +chance it might still be under the bed, and that the handsome face +smiled and the blue eyes gazed in the very apartment where she +herself sat and her sister was robed and disrobed in all her beauty. + +She used all her modest skill in fitting to her own shape and +refurnishing the cast-off bits of finery bestowed upon her. It was +all set to rights long before Clorinda recalled to mind that she had +promised that Anne should sometime see her chance visitors take +their dish of tea with her. + +But one day, for some cause, she did remember, and sent for her. + +Anne ran to her bedchamber and donned her remodelled gown with +shaking hands. She laughed a little hysterically as she did it, +seeing her plain snub-nosed face in the glass. She tried to dress +her head in a fashion new to her, and knew she did it ill and +untidily, but had no time to change it. If she had had some red she +would have put it on, but such vanities were not in her chamber or +Barbara's. So she rubbed her cheeks hard, and even pinched them, so +that in the end they looked as if they were badly rouged. It seemed +to her that her nose grew red too, and indeed 'twas no wonder, for +her hands and feet were like ice. + +"She must be ashamed of me," the humble creature said to herself. +"And if she is ashamed she will be angered and send me away and be +friends no more." + +She did not deceive herself, poor thing, and imagine she had the +chance of being regarded with any great lenience if she appeared +ill. + +"Mistress Clorinda begged that you would come quickly," said +Rebecca, knocking at the door. + +So she caught her handkerchief, which was scented, as all her +garments were, with dried rose-leaves from the garden, which she had +conserved herself, and went down to the chintz parlour trembling. + +It was a great room with white panels, and flowered coverings to the +furniture. There were a number of ladies and gentlemen standing +talking and laughing loudly together. The men outnumbered the +women, and most of them stood in a circle about Mistress Clorinda, +who sat upright in a great flowered chair, smiling with her mocking, +stately air, as if she defied them to dare to speak what they felt. + +Anne came in like a mouse. Nobody saw her. She did not, indeed, +know what to do. She dared not remain standing all alone, so she +crept to the place where her sister's chair was, and stood a little +behind its high back. Her heart beat within her breast till it was +like to choke her. + +They were only country gentlemen who made the circle, but to her +they seemed dashing gallants. That some of them had red noses as +well as cheeks, and that their voices were big and their gallantries +boisterous, was no drawback to their manly charms, she having seen +no other finer gentlemen. They were specimens of the great +conquering creature Man, whom all women must aspire to please if +they have the fortunate power; and each and all of them were plainly +trying to please Clorinda, and not she them. + +And so Anne gazed at them with admiring awe, waiting until there +should come a pause in which she might presume to call her sister's +attention to her presence; but suddenly, before she had indeed made +up her mind how she might best announce herself, there spoke behind +her a voice of silver. + +"It is only goddesses," said the voice, "who waft about them as they +move the musk of the rose-gardens of Araby. When you come to reign +over us in town, Madam, there will be no perfume in the mode but +that of rose-leaves, and in all drawing-rooms we shall breathe but +their perfume." + +And there, at her side, was bowing, in cinnamon and crimson, with +jewelled buttons on his velvet coat, the beautiful being whose fair +locks the sun had shone on the morning she had watched him ride +away--the man whom the imperial beauty had dismissed and called a +popinjay. + +Clorinda looked under her lashes towards him without turning, but in +so doing beheld Anne standing in waiting. + +"A fine speech lost," she said, "though 'twas well enough for the +country, Sir John. 'Tis thrown away, because 'tis not I who am +scented with rose-leaves, but Anne there, whom you must not ogle. +Come hither, sister, and do not hide as if you were ashamed to be +looked at." + +And she drew her forward, and there Anne stood, and all of them +stared at her poor, plain, blushing face, and the Adonis in cinnamon +and crimson bowed low, as if she had been a duchess, that being his +conqueror's way with gentle or simple, maid, wife, or widow, beauty +or homespun uncomeliness. + +It was so with him always; he could never resist the chance of +luring to himself a woman's heart, whether he wanted it or not, and +he had a charm, a strange and wonderful one, it could not be denied. +Anne palpitated indeed as she made her curtsey to him, and wondered +if Heaven had ever before made so fine a gentleman and so beautiful +a being. + +She went but seldom to this room again, and when she went she stood +always in the background, far more in fear that some one would +address her than that she should meet with neglect. She was used to +neglect, and to being regarded as a nonentity, and aught else +discomfited her. All her pleasure was to hear what was said, though +'twas not always of the finest wit--and to watch Clorinda play the +queen among her admirers and her slaves. She would not have dared +to speak of Sir John Oxon frequently--indeed, she let fall his name +but rarely; but she learned a curious wit in contriving to hear all +things concerning him. It was her habit cunningly to lead Mistress +Margery to talking about him and relating long histories of his +conquests and his grace. Mistress Wimpole knew many of them, +having, for a staid and prudent matron, a lively interest in his +ways. It seemed, truly--if one must believe her long-winded +stories--that no duchess under seventy had escaped weeping for him +and losing rest, and that ladies of all ranks had committed follies +for his sake. + +Mistress Anne, having led her to this fruitful subject, would sit +and listen, bending over her embroidery frame with strange emotions, +causing her virgin breast to ache with their swelling. She would +lie awake at night thinking in the dark, with her heart beating. +Surely, surely there was no other man on earth who was so fitted to +Clorinda, and to whom it was so suited that this empress should give +her charms. Surely no woman, however beautiful or proud, could +dismiss his suit when he pressed it. And then, poor woman, her +imagination strove to paint the splendour of their mutual love, +though of such love she knew so little. But it must, in sooth, be +bliss and rapture; and perchance, was her humble thought, she might +see it from afar, and hear of it. And when they went to court, and +Clorinda had a great mansion in town, and many servants who needed a +housewife's eye upon their doings to restrain them from wastefulness +and riot, might it not chance to be that if she served well now, and +had the courage to plead with her then, she might be permitted to +serve her there, living quite apart in some quiet corner of the +house. And then her wild thoughts would go so far that she would +dream--reddening at her own boldness--of a child who might be born +to them, a lordly infant son and heir, whose eyes might be blue and +winning, and his hair in great fair locks, and whom she might nurse +and tend and be a slave to--and love--and love--and love, and who +might end by knowing she was his tender servant, always to be +counted on, and might look at her with that wooing, laughing glance, +and even love her too. + +The night Clorinda laid her commands upon Mistress Wimpole +concerning the coming of Sir John Oxon, that matron, after receiving +them, hurried to her other charges, flurried and full of talk, and +poured forth her wonder and admiration at length. + +"She is a wondrous lady!" she said--"she is indeed! It is not alone +her beauty, but her spirit and her wit. Mark you how she sees all +things and lets none pass, and can lay a plan as prudent as any lady +old enough to be twice her mother. She knows all the ways of the +world of fashion, and will guard herself against gossip in such a +way that none can gainsay her high virtue. Her spirit is too great +to allow that she may even SEEM to be as the town ladies. She will +not have it! Sir John will not find his court easy to pay. She +will not allow that he shall be able to say to any one that he has +seen her alone a moment. Thus, she says, he cannot boast. If all +ladies were as wise and cunning, there would be no tales to tell." +She talked long and garrulously, and set forth to them how Mistress +Clorinda had looked straight at her with her black eyes, until she +had almost shaken as she sat, because it seemed as though she dared +her to disobey her will; and how she had sat with her hair trailing +upon the floor over the chair's back, and at first it had seemed +that she was flushed with anger, but next as if she had smiled. + +"Betimes," said Mistress Wimpole, "I am afraid when she smiles, but +to-night some thought had crossed her mind that pleased her. I +think it was that she liked to think that he who has conquered so +many ladies will find that he is to be outwitted and made a mock of. +She likes that others shall be beaten if she thinks them impudent. +She liked it as a child, and would flog the stable-boys with her +little whip until they knelt to beg her pardon for their freedoms." + +That night Mistress Anne went to her bed-chamber with her head full +of wandering thoughts, and she had not the power to bid them +disperse themselves and leave her--indeed, she scarce wished for it. +She was thinking of Clorinda, and wondering sadly that she was of so +high a pride that she could bear herself as though there were no +human weakness in her breast, not even the womanly weakness of a +heart. How could it be possible that she could treat with disdain +this gallant gentleman, if he loved her, as he surely must? Herself +she had been sure that she had seen an ardent flame in his blue +eyes, even that first day when he had bowed to her with that air of +grace as he spoke of the fragrance of the rose leaves he had thought +wafted from her robe. How could a woman whom he loved resist him? +How could she cause him to suffer by forcing him to stand at arm's +length when he sighed to draw near and breathe his passion at her +feet? + +In the silence of her chamber as she disrobed, she sighed with +restless pain, but did not know that her sighing was for grief that +love--of which there seemed so little in some lives--could be wasted +and flung away. She could not fall into slumber when she lay down +upon her pillow, but tossed from side to side with a burdened heart. + +"She is so young and beautiful and proud," she thought. "It is +because I am so much older that I can see these things--that I see +that this is surely the one man who should be her husband. There +may be many others, but they are none of them her equals, and she +would scorn and hate them when she was once bound to them for life. +This one is as beautiful as she--and full of grace, and wit, and +spirit. She could not look down upon him, however wrath she was at +any time. Ah me! She should not spurn him, surely she should not!" + +She was so restless and ill at ease that she could not lie upon her +bed, but rose therefrom, as she often did in her wakeful hours, and +went to her lattice, gently opening it to look out upon the night, +and calm herself by sitting with her face uplifted to the stars, +which from her childhood she had fancied looked down upon her kindly +and as if they would give her comfort. + +To-night there were no stars. There should have been a moon three- +quarters full, but, in the evening, clouds had drifted across the +sky and closed over all heavily, so that no moonlight was to be +seen, save when a rare sudden gust made a ragged rent, for a moment, +in the blackness. + +She did not sit this time, but knelt, clad in her night-rail as she +was. All was sunk into the profoundest silence of the night. By +this time the entire household had been long enough abed to be +plunged in sleep. She alone was waking, and being of that simple +mind which, like a child's, must ever bear its trouble to a +protecting strength, she looked up at the darkness of the cloudy sky +and prayed for the better fortune of the man who had indeed not +remembered her existence after the moment he had made her his +obeisance. She was too plain and sober a creature to be remembered. + +"Perchance," she murmured, "he is at this moment also looking at the +clouds from his window, because he cannot sleep for thinking that in +two days he will be beneath her father's roof and will see her +loveliness, and he must needs be contriving within his mind what he +will say, if she do but look as if she might regard him with favour, +which I pray she will." + +From the path below, that moment there rose a slight sound, so +slight a one that for a moment she thought she must have been +deceived in believing it had fallen upon her ear. All was still +after it for full two minutes, and had she heard no more she would +have surely forgotten she had heard aught, or would have believed +herself but the victim of fancy. But after the long pause the same +sound came again, though this time it was slighter; yet, despite its +slightness, it seemed to her to be the crushing of the earth and +stone beneath a cautious foot. It was a foot so cautious that it +was surely stealthy and scarce dared to advance at all. And then +all was still again. She was for a moment overcome with fears, not +being of a courageous temper, and having heard, but of late, of a +bold gipsy vagabond who, with a companion, had broken into the lower +rooms of a house of the neighbourhood, and being surprised by its +owner, had only been overcome and captured after a desperate fight, +in which shots were exchanged, and one of the hurriedly-awakened +servants killed. So she leaned forward to hearken further, +wondering what she should do to best alarm the house, and, as she +bent so, she heard the sound again and a smothered oath, and with +her straining eyes saw that surely upon the path there stood a dark- +draped figure. She rose with great care to her feet, and stood a +moment shaking and clinging to the window-ledge, while she bethought +her of what servants she could wake first, and how she could reach +her father's room. Her poor heart beat in her side, and her breath +came quickly. The soundlessness of the night was broken by one of +the strange sudden gusts of wind which tossed the trees, and tore at +the clouds as they hurried. She heard the footsteps again, as if it +feared its own sound the less when the wind might cover it. A faint +pale gleam showed between two dark clouds behind which the moon had +been hidden; it grew brighter, and a jagged rent was torn, so that +the moon herself for a second or so shone out dazzling bright before +the clouds rushed over her again and shut her in. + +It was at this very instant Mistress Anne heard the footsteps once +more, and saw full well a figure in dark cloak and hat which stepped +quickly into the shade of a great tree. But more she saw--and +clapped her hand upon her mouth to stifle the cry that would have +otherwise risen in spite of her--that notwithstanding his fair locks +were thrust out of sight beneath his hat, and he looked strange and +almost uncomely, it was the face of Sir John Oxon, the moon, +bursting through the jagged clouds, had shone upon. + + + +CHAPTER VIII--Two meet in the deserted rose garden, and the old Earl +of Dunstanwolde is made a happy man + + + +It was not until three days later, instead of two, that Sir John +Oxon rode into the courtyard with his servant behind him. He had +been detained on his journey, but looked as if his impatience had +not caused him to suffer, for he wore his finest air of spirit and +beauty, and when he was alone with Sir Jeoffry, made his compliments +to the absent ladies, and inquired of their health with his best +town grace. + +Mistress Clorinda did not appear until the dining hour, when she +swept into the room like a queen, followed by her sister, Anne, and +Mistress Wimpole, this being the first occasion of Mistress Anne's +dining, as it were, in state with her family. + +The honour had so alarmed her, that she looked pale, and so ugly +that Sir Jeoffry scowled at sight of her, and swore under his breath +to Clorinda that she should have been allowed to come. + +"I know my own affairs the best, by your leave, sir," answered +Clorinda, as low and with a grand flash of her eye. "She hath been +drilled well." + +This she had indeed, and so had Mistress Wimpole, and throughout Sir +John Oxon's stay they were called upon to see that they played well +their parts. Two weeks he stayed and then rode gaily back to town, +and when Clorinda made her sweeping curtsey to the ground to him +upon the threshold of the flowered room in which he bade her +farewell, both Anne and Mistress Wimpole curtseyed a step behind +her. + +"Now that he has gone and you have shown me that you can attend me +as I wish," she said, turning to them as the sound of his horse's +hoofs died away, "it will not trouble me should he choose some day +to come again. He has not carried with him much that he can boast +of." + +In truth, it seemed to the outer world that she had held him well in +hand. If he had come as a sighing lover, the whole county knew she +had shown him but small favour. She had invited companies to the +house on several occasions, and all could see how she bore herself +towards him. She carried herself with a certain proud courtesy as +becoming the daughter of his host, but her wit did not spare him, +and sometimes when it was more than in common cutting he was seen to +wince though he held himself gallantly. There were one or two who +thought they now and then had seen his blue eyes fall upon her when +he believed none were looking, and rest there burningly for a +moment, but 'twas never for more than an instant, when he would +rouse himself with a start and turn away. + +She had been for a month or two less given to passionate outbreaks, +having indeed decided that it was to her interest as a young lady +and a future great one to curb herself. Her tirewoman, Rebecca, had +begun to dare to breathe more freely when she was engaged about her +person, and had, in truth, spoken of her pleasanter fortune among +her fellows in the servants' hall. + +But a night or two after the visitor took his departure, she gave +way to such an outburst as even Rebecca had scarce ever beheld, +being roused to it by a small thing in one sense, though in yet +another perhaps great enough, since it touched upon the despoiling +of one of her beauties. + +She was at her toilet-table being prepared for the night, and her +long hair brushed and dressed before retiring. Mistress Wimpole had +come in to the chamber to do something at her bidding, and chancing +to stand gazing at her great and heavy fall of locks as she was +waiting, she observed a thing which caused her, foolish woman that +she was, to give a start and utter an unwise exclamation. + +"Madam!" she gasped--"madam!" + +"What then!" quoth Mistress Clorinda angrily. "You bring my heart +to my throat!" + +"Your hair!" stammered Wimpole, losing all her small wit--"your +beauteous hair! A lock is gone, madam!" + +Clorinda started to her feet, and flung the great black mass over +her white shoulder, that she might see it in the glass. + +"Gone!" she cried. "Where? How? What mean you? Ah-h!" + +Her voice rose to a sound that was well-nigh a scream. She saw the +rifled spot--a place where a great lock had been severed jaggedly-- +and it must have been five feet long. + +She turned and sprang upon her woman, her beautiful face distorted +with fury, and her eyes like flames of fire. She seized her by each +shoulder and boxed her ears until her head spun round and bells rang +within it. + +"'Twas you!" she shrieked. "'Twas you--she-devil-beast--slut that +you are! 'Twas when you used your scissors to the new head you made +for me. You set it on my hair that you might set a loop--and in +your sluttish way you snipped a lock by accident and hid it from +me." + +She beat her till her own black hair flew about her like the mane of +a fury; and having used her hands till they were tired, she took her +brush from the table and beat her with that till the room echoed +with the blows on the stout shoulders. + +"Mistress, 'twas not so!" cried the poor thing, sobbing and +struggling. "'Twas not so, madam!" + +"Madam, you will kill the woman," wept Mistress Wimpole. "I beseech +you -! 'Tis not seemly, I beseech--" + +Mistress Clorinda flung her woman from her and threw the brush at +Mistress Wimpole, crying at her with the lordly rage she had been +wont to shriek with when she wore breeches. + +"Damnation to thy seemliness!" she cried, "and to thee too! Get +thee gone--from me, both--get thee gone from my sight!" + +And both women fled weeping, and sobbing, and gasping from the room +incontinently. + +She was shrewish and sullen with her woman for days after, and it +was the poor creature's labour to keep from her sight, when she +dressed her head, the place from whence the lock had been taken. In +the servants' hall the woman vowed that it was not she who had cut +it, that she had had no accident, though it was true she had used +the scissors about her head, yet it was but in snipping a ribbon, +and she had not touched a hair. + +"If she were another lady," she said, "I should swear some gallant +had robbed her of it; but, forsooth, she does not allow them to come +near enough for such sport, and with five feet of hair wound up in +coronals, how could a man unwind a lock, even if 'twas permitted him +to stand at her very side." + +Two years passed, and the beauty had no greater fields to conquer +than those she found in the country, since her father, Sir Jeoffry, +had not the money to take her to town, he becoming more and more +involved and so fallen into debt that it was even whispered that at +times it went hard with him to keep even the poor household he had. + +Mistress Clorinda's fortunes the gentry of the neighbourhood +discussed with growing interest and curiosity. What was like to +become of her great gifts and powers in the end, if she could never +show them to the great world, and have the chance to carry her +splendid wares to the fashionable market where there were men of +quality and wealth who would be like to bid for them. She had not +chosen to accept any of those who had offered themselves so far, and +it was believed that for some reason she had held off my lord of +Dunstanwolde in his suit. 'Twas evident that he admired her +greatly, and why he had not already made her his countess was a sort +of mystery which was productive of many discussions and bore much +talking over. Some said that, with all her beauty and his +admiration, he was wary and waited, and some were pleased to say +that the reason he waited was because the young lady herself +contrived that he should, it being her desire to make an open +conquest of Sir John Oxon, and show him to the world as her slave, +before she made up her mind to make even a much greater match. Some +hinted that for all her disdainfulness and haughty pride she would +marry Sir John if he asked her, but that he being as brilliant a +beau as she a beauty, he was too fond of his pleasures and his gay +town life to give them up even to a goddess who had no fortune. His +own had not been a great one, and he had squandered it +magnificently, his extravagances being renowned in the world of +fashion, and having indeed founded for him his reputation. + +It was, however, still his way to accept frequent hospitalities from +his kinsman Eldershawe, and Sir Jeoffry was always rejoiced enough +to secure him as his companion for a few days when he could lure him +from the dissipation of the town. At such times it never failed +that Mistress Wimpole and poor Anne kept their guard. Clorinda +never allowed them to relax their vigilance, and Mistress Wimpole +ceased to feel afraid, and became accustomed to her duties, but Anne +never did so. She looked always her palest and ugliest when Sir +John was in the house, and she would glance with sad wonder and +timid adoration from him to Clorinda; but sometimes when she looked +at Sir John her plain face would grow crimson, and once or twice he +caught her at the folly, and when she dropped her eyes overwhelmed +with shame, he faintly smiled to himself, seeing in her a new though +humble conquest. + +There came a day when in the hunting-field there passed from mouth +to mouth a rumour, and Sir Jeoffry, hearing it, came pounding over +on his big black horse to his daughter and told it to her in great +spirits. + +"He is a sly dog, John Oxon," he said, a broad grin on his rubicund +face. "This very week he comes to us, and he and I are cronies, yet +he has blabbed nothing of what is being buzzed about by all the +world." + +"He has learned how to keep a closed mouth," said Mistress Clorinda, +without asking a question. + +"But 'tis marriage he is so mum about, bless ye!" said Sir Jeoffry. +"And that is not a thing to be hid long. He is to be shortly +married, they say. My lady, his mother, has found him a great +fortune in a new beauty but just come to town. She hath great +estates in the West Indies, as well as a fine fortune in England-- +and all the world is besieging her; but Jack hath come and bowed +sighing before her, and writ some verses, and borne her off from +them all." + +"'Tis time," said Clorinda, "that he should marry some woman who can +pay his debts and keep him out of the spunging house, for to that he +will come if he does not play his cards with skill." + +Sir Jeoffry looked at her askance and rubbed his red chin. + +"I wish thou hadst liked him, Clo," he said, "and ye had both had +fortunes to match. I love the fellow, and ye would have made a +handsome pair." + +Mistress Clorinda laughed, sitting straight in her saddle, her fine +eyes unblenching, though the sun struck them. + +"We had fortunes to match," she said--"I was a beggar and he was a +spendthrift. Here comes Lord Dunstanwolde." + +And as the gentleman rode near, it seemed to his dazzled eyes that +the sun so shone down upon her because she was a goddess and drew it +from the heavens. + +In the west wing of the Hall 'twas talked of between Mistress +Wimpole and her charges, that a rumour of Sir John Oxon's marriage +was afloat. + +"Yet can I not believe it," said Mistress Margery; "for if ever a +gentleman was deep in love, though he bitterly strove to hide it, +'twas Sir John, and with Mistress Clorinda." + +"But she," faltered Anne, looking pale and even agitated--"she was +always disdainful to him and held him at arm's length. I--I wished +she would have treated him more kindly." + +"'Tis not her way to treat men kindly," said Mistress Wimpole. + +But whether the rumour was true or false--and there were those who +bestowed no credit upon it, and said it was mere town talk, and that +the same things had been bruited abroad before--it so chanced that +Sir John paid no visit to his relative or to Sir Jeoffry for several +months. 'Twas heard once that he had gone to France, and at the +French Court was making as great a figure as he had made at the +English one, but of this even his kinsman Lord Eldershawe could +speak no more certainly than he could of the first matter. + +The suit of my Lord of Dunstanwolde--if suit it was--during these +months appeared to advance somewhat. All orders of surmises were +made concerning it--that Mistress Clorinda had privately quarrelled +with Sir John and sent him packing; that he had tired of his love- +making, as 'twas well known he had done many times before, and +having squandered his possessions and finding himself in open +straits, must needs patch up his fortunes in a hurry with the first +heiress whose estate suited him. But 'twas the women who said these +things; the men swore that no man could tire of or desert such +spirit and beauty, and that if Sir John Oxon stayed away 'twas +because he had been commanded to do so, it never having been +Mistress Clorinda's intention to do more than play with him awhile, +she having been witty against him always for a fop, and meaning +herself to accept no man as a husband who could not give her both +rank and wealth. + +"We know her," said the old boon companions of her childhood, as +they talked of her over their bottles. "She knew her price and +would bargain for it when she was not eight years old, and would +give us songs and kisses but when she was paid for them with sweet +things and knickknacks from the toy-shops. She will marry no man +who cannot make her at least a countess, and she would take him but +because there was not a duke at hand. We know her, and her beauty's +ways." + +But they did not know her; none knew her, save herself. + +In the west wing, which grew more bare and ill-furnished as things +wore out and time went by, Mistress Anne waxed thinner and paler. +She was so thin in two months' time, that her soft, dull eyes looked +twice their natural size, and seemed to stare piteously at people. +One day, indeed, as she sat at work in her sister's room, Clorinda +being there at the time, the beauty, turning and beholding her face +suddenly, uttered a violent exclamation. + +"Why look you at me so?" she said. "Your eyes stand out of your +head like a new-hatched, unfeathered bird's. They irk me with their +strange asking look. Why do you stare at me?" + +"I do not know," Anne faltered. "I could not tell you, sister. My +eyes seem to stare so because of my thinness. I have seen them in +my mirror." + +"Why do you grow thin?" quoth Clorinda harshly. "You are not ill." + +"I--I do not know," again Anne faltered. "Naught ails me. I do not +know. For--forgive me!" + +Clorinda laughed. + +"Soft little fool," she said, "why should you ask me to forgive you? +I might as fairly ask you to forgive ME, that I keep my shape and +show no wasting." + +Anne rose from her chair and hurried to her sister's side, sinking +upon her knees there to kiss her hand. + +"Sister," she said, "one could never dream that you could need +pardon. I love you so--that all you do, it seems to me must be +right--whatsoever it might be." + +Clorinda drew her fair hands away and clasped them on the top of her +head, proudly, as if she crowned herself thereby, her great and +splendid eyes setting themselves upon her sister's face. + +"All that I do," she said slowly, and with the steadfast high +arrogance of an empress' self--"All that I do IS right--for me. I +make it so by doing it. Do you think that I am conquered by the +laws that other women crouch and whine before, because they dare not +break them, though they long to do so? I am my own law--and the law +of some others." + +It was by this time the first month of the summer, and to-night +there was again a birth-night ball, at which the beauty was to +dazzle all eyes; but 'twas of greater import than the one she had +graced previously, it being to celebrate the majority of the heir to +an old name and estate, who had been orphaned early, and was highly +connected, counting, indeed, among the members of his family the +Duke of Osmonde, who was one of the richest and most envied nobles +in Great Britain, his dukedom being of the oldest, his numerous +estates the most splendid and beautiful, and the long history of his +family full of heroic deeds. This nobleman was also a distant +kinsman to the Earl of Dunstanwolde, and at this ball, for the first +time for months, Sir John Oxon appeared again. + +He did not arrive on the gay scene until an hour somewhat late. But +there was one who had seen him early, though no human soul had known +of the event. + +In the rambling, ill-cared for grounds of Wildairs Hall there was an +old rose-garden, which had once been the pride and pleasure of some +lady of the house, though this had been long ago; and now it was but +a lonely wilderness where roses only grew because the dead Lady +Wildairs had loved them, and Barbara and Anne had tended them, and +with their own hands planted and pruned during their childhood and +young maiden days. But of late years even they had seemed to have +forgotten it, having become discouraged, perchance, having no +gardeners to do the rougher work, and the weeds and brambles so +running riot. There were high hedges and winding paths overgrown +and run wild; the stronger rose-bushes grew in tangled masses, +flinging forth their rich blooms among the weeds; such as were more +delicate, struggling to live among them, became more frail and +scant-blossoming season by season; a careless foot would have +trodden them beneath it as their branches grew long and trailed in +the grass; but for many months no foot had trodden there at all, and +it was a beauteous place deserted. + +In the centre was an ancient broken sun-dial, which was in these +days in the midst of a sort of thicket, where a bold tangle of the +finest red roses clambered, and, defying neglect, flaunted their +rich colour in the sun. + +And though the place had been so long forgotten, and it was not the +custom for it to be visited, about this garlanded broken sun-dial +the grass was a little trodden, and on the morning of the young +heir's coming of age some one stood there in the glowing sunlight as +if waiting. + +This was no less than Mistress Clorinda herself. She was clad in a +morning gown of white, which seemed to make of her more than ever a +tall, transcendent creature, less a woman than a conquering goddess; +and she had piled the dial with scarlet red roses, which she was +choosing to weave into a massive wreath or crown, for some purpose +best known to herself. Her head seemed haughtier and more +splendidly held on high even than was its common wont, but upon +these roses her lustrous eyes were downcast and were curiously +smiling, as also was her ripe, arching lip, whose scarlet the +blossoms vied with but poorly. It was a smile like this, perhaps, +which Mistress Wimpole feared and trembled before, for 'twas not a +tender smile nor a melting one. If she was waiting, she did not +wait long, nor, to be sure, would she have long waited if she had +been kept by any daring laggard. This was not her way. + +'Twas not a laggard who came soon, stepping hurriedly with light +feet upon the grass, as though he feared the sound which might be +made if he had trodden upon the gravel. It was Sir John Oxon who +came towards her in his riding costume. + +He came and stood before her on the other side of the dial, and made +her a bow so low that a quick eye might have thought 'twas almost +mocking. His feather, sweeping the ground, caught a fallen rose, +which clung to it. His beauty, when he stood upright, seemed to +defy the very morning's self and all the morning world; but Mistress +Clorinda did not lift her eyes, but kept them upon her roses, and +went on weaving. + +"Why did you choose to come?" she asked. + +"Why did you choose to keep the tryst in answer to my message?" he +replied to her. + +At this she lifted her great shining eyes and fixed them full upon +him. + +"I wished," she said, "to hear what you would say--but more to SEE +you than to hear." + +"And I," he began--"I came--" + +She held up her white hand with a long-stemmed rose in it--as though +a queen should lift a sceptre. + +"You came," she answered, "more to see ME than to hear. You made +that blunder." + +"You choose to bear yourself like a goddess, and disdain me from +Olympian heights," he said. "I had the wit to guess it would be +so." + +She shook her royal head, faintly and most strangely smiling. + +"That you had not," was her clear-worded answer. "That is a later +thought sprung up since you have seen my face. 'Twas quick--for +you--but not quick enough." And the smile in her eyes was +maddening. "You thought to see a woman crushed and weeping, her +beauty bent before you, her locks dishevelled, her streaming eyes +lifted to Heaven--and you--with prayers, swearing that not Heaven +could help her so much as your deigning magnanimity. You have seen +women do this before, you would have seen ME do it--at your feet-- +crying out that I was lost--lost for ever. THAT you expected! 'Tis +not here." + +Debauched as his youth was, and free from all touch of heart or +conscience--for from his earliest boyhood he had been the pupil of +rakes and fashionable villains--well as he thought he knew all women +and their ways, betraying or betrayed--this creature taught him a +new thing, a new mood in woman, a new power which came upon him like +a thunderbolt. + +"Gods!" he exclaimed, catching his breath, and even falling back +apace, "Damnation! you are NOT a woman!" + +She laughed again, weaving her roses, but not allowing that his eyes +should loose themselves from hers. + +"But now, you called me a goddess and spoke of Olympian heights," +she said; "I am not one--I am a woman who would show other women how +to bear themselves in hours like these. Because I am a woman why +should I kneel, and weep, and rave? What have I lost--in losing +you? I should have lost the same had I been twice your wife. What +is it women weep and beat their breasts for--because they love a +man--because they lose his love. They never have them." + +She had finished the wreath, and held it up in the sun to look at +it. What a strange beauty was hers, as she held it so--a heavy, +sumptuous thing--in her white hands, her head thrown backward. + +"You marry soon," she asked--"if the match is not broken?" + +"Yes," he answered, watching her--a flame growing in his eyes and in +his soul in his own despite. + +"It cannot be too soon," she said. And she turned and faced him, +holding the wreath high in her two hands poised like a crown above +her head--the brilliant sun embracing her, her lips curling, her +face uplifted as if she turned to defy the light, the crimson of her +cheek. 'Twas as if from foot to brow the woman's whole person was a +flame, rising and burning triumphant high above him. Thus for one +second's space she stood, dazzling his very eyesight with her +strange, dauntless splendour; and then she set the great rose-wreath +upon her head, so crowning it. + +"You came to see me," she said, the spark in her eyes growing to the +size of a star; "I bid you look at me--and see how grief has faded +me these past months, and how I am bowed down by it. Look well-- +that you may remember." + +"I look," he said, almost panting. + +"Then," she said, her fine-cut nostril pinching itself with her +breath, as she pointed down the path before her--"GO!--back to your +kennel!" + +* * * + +That night she appeared at the birth-night ball with the wreath of +roses on her head. No other ladies wore such things, 'twas a +fashion of her own; but she wore it in such beauty and with such +state that it became a crown again even as it had been the first +moment that she had put it on. All gazed at her as she entered, and +a murmur followed her as she moved with her father up the broad oak +staircase which was known through all the country for its width and +massive beauty. In the hall below guests were crowded, and there +were indeed few of them who did not watch her as she mounted by Sir +Jeoffry's side. In the upper hall there were guests also, some +walking to and fro, some standing talking, many looking down at the +arrivals as they came up. + +"'Tis Mistress Wildairs," these murmured as they saw her. +"Clorinda, by God!" said one of the older men to his crony who stood +near him. "And crowned with roses! The vixen makes them look as if +they were built of rubies in every leaf." + +At the top of the great staircase there stood a gentleman, who had +indeed paused a moment, spellbound, as he saw her coming. He was a +man of unusual height and of a majestic mien; he wore a fair +periwig, which added to his tallness; his laces and embroiderings +were marvels of art and richness, and his breast blazed with orders. +Strangely, she did not seem to see him; but when she reached the +landing, and her face was turned so that he beheld the full blaze of +its beauty, 'twas so great a wonder and revelation to him that he +gave a start. The next moment almost, one of the red roses of her +crown broke loose from its fastenings and fell at his very feet. +His countenance changed so that it seemed almost, for a second, to +lose some of its colour. He stooped and picked the rose up and held +it in his hand. But Mistress Clorinda was looking at my Lord of +Dunstanwolde, who was moving through the crowd to greet her. She +gave him a brilliant smile, and from her lustrous eyes surely there +passed something which lit a fire of hope in his. + +After she had made her obeisance to her entertainers, and her +birthday greetings to the young heir, he contrived to draw closely +to her side and speak a few words in a tone those near her could not +hear. + +"To-night, madam," he said, with melting fervour, "you deign to +bring me my answer as you promised." + +"Yes," she murmured. "Take me where we may be a few moments alone." + +He led her to an antechamber, where they were sheltered from the +gaze of the passers-by, though all was moving gaiety about them. He +fell upon his knee and bowed to kiss her fair hand. Despite the +sobriety of his years, he was as eager and tender as a boy. + +"Be gracious to me, madam," he implored. "I am not young enough to +wait. Too many months have been thrown away." + +"You need wait no longer, my lord," she said--"not one single hour." + +And while he, poor gentleman, knelt, kissing her hand with adoring +humbleness, she, under the splendour of her crown of roses, gazed +down at his grey-sprinkled head with her great steady shining orbs, +as if gazing at some almost uncomprehended piteous wonder. + +In less than an hour the whole assemblage knew of the event and +talked of it. Young men looked daggers at Dunstanwolde and at each +other; and older men wore glum or envious faces. Women told each +other 'twas as they had known it would be, or 'twas a wonder that at +last it had come about. Upon the arm of her lord that was to be, +Mistress Clorinda passed from room to room like a royal bride. + +As she made her first turn of the ballroom, all eyes upon her, her +beauty blazing at its highest, Sir John Oxon entered and stood at +the door. He wore his gallant air, and smiled as ever; and when she +drew near him he bowed low, and she stopped, and bent lower in a +curtsey sweeping the ground. + +'Twas but in the next room her lord led her to a gentleman who stood +with a sort of court about him. It was the tall stranger, with the +fair periwig, and the orders glittering on his breast--the one who +had started at sight of her as she had reached the landing of the +stairs. He held still in his hand a broken red rose, and when his +eye fell on her crown the colour mounted to his cheek. + +"My honoured kinsman, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde," said her +affianced lord. "Your Grace--it is this lady who is to do me the +great honour of becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde." + +And as the deep, tawny brown eye of the man bending before her +flashed into her own, for the first time in her life Mistress +Clorinda's lids fell, and as she swept her curtsey of stately +obeisance her heart struck like a hammer against her side. + + + +CHAPTER IX--"I give to him the thing he craves with all his soul-- +myself" + + + +In a month she was the Countess of Dunstanwolde, and reigned in her +lord's great town house with a retinue of servants, her powdered +lackeys among the tallest, her liveries and equipages the richest +the world of fashion knew. She was presented at the Court, blazing +with the Dunstanwolde jewels, and even with others her bridegroom +had bought in his passionate desire to heap upon her the +magnificence which became her so well. From the hour she knelt to +kiss the hand of royalty she set the town on fire. It seemed to +have been ordained by Fate that her passage through this world +should be always the triumphant passage of a conqueror. As when a +baby she had ruled the servants' hall, the kennel, and the grooms' +quarters, later her father and his boisterous friends, and from her +fifteenth birthday the whole hunting shire she lived in, so she held +her sway in the great world, as did no other lady of her rank or any +higher. Those of her age seemed but girls yet by her side, whether +married or unmarried, and howsoever trained to modish ways. She was +but scarce eighteen at her marriage, but she was no girl, nor did +she look one, glowing as was the early splendour of her bloom. Her +height was far beyond the ordinary for a woman; but her shape so +faultless and her carriage so regal, that though there were men upon +whom she was tall enough to look down with ease, the beholder but +felt that her tallness was an added grace and beauty with which all +women should have been endowed, and which, as they were not, caused +them to appear but insignificant. What a throat her diamonds blazed +on, what shoulders and bosom her laces framed, on what a brow her +coronet sat and glittered. Her lord lived as 'twere upon his knees +in enraptured adoration. Since his first wife's death in his youth, +he had dwelt almost entirely in the country at his house there, +which was fine and stately, but had been kept gloomily half closed +for a decade. His town establishment had, in truth, never been +opened since his bereavement; and now--an elderly man--he returned +to the gay world he had almost forgotten, with a bride whose youth +and beauty set it aflame. What wonder that his head almost reeled +at times and that he lost his breath before the sum of his strange +late bliss, and the new lease of brilliant life which seemed to have +been given to him. + +In the days when, while in the country, he had heard such rumours of +the lawless days of Sir Jeoffry Wildairs' daughter, when he had +heard of her dauntless boldness, her shrewish temper, and her +violent passions, he had been awed at the thought of what a wife +such a woman would make for a gentleman accustomed to a quiet life, +and he had indeed striven hard to restrain the desperate admiration +he was forced to admit she had inspired in him even at her first +ball. + +The effort had, in sooth, been in vain, and he had passed many a +sleepless night; and when, as time went on, he beheld her again and +again, and saw with his own eyes, as well as heard from others, of +the great change which seemed to have taken place in her manners and +character, he began devoutly to thank Heaven for the alteration, as +for a merciful boon vouchsafed to him. He had been wise enough to +know that even a stronger man than himself could never conquer or +rule her; and when she seemed to begin to rule herself and bear +herself as befitted her birth and beauty, he had dared to allow +himself to dream of what perchance might be if he had great good +fortune. + +In these days of her union with him, he was, indeed, almost humbly +amazed at the grace and kindness she showed him every hour they +passed in each other's company. He knew that there were men, +younger and handsomer than himself, who, being wedded to beauties +far less triumphant than she, found that their wives had but little +time to spare them from the world, which knelt at their feet, and +that in some fashion they themselves seemed to fall into the +background. But 'twas not so with this woman, powerful and +worshipped though she might be. She bore herself with the high +dignity of her rank, but rendered to him the gracious respect and +deference due both to his position and his merit. She stood by his +side and not before him, and her smiles and wit were bestowed upon +him as generously as to others. If she had once been a vixen, she +was surely so no longer, for he never heard a sharp or harsh word +pass her lips, though it is true her manner was always somewhat +imperial, and her lacqueys and waiting women stood in greatest awe +of her. There was that in her presence and in her eye before which +all commoner or weaker creatures quailed. The men of the world who +flocked to pay their court to her, and the popinjays who followed +them, all knew this look, and a tone in her rich voice which could +cut like a knife when she chose that it should do so. But to my +Lord of Dunstanwolde she was all that a worshipped lady could be. + +"Your ladyship has made of me a happier man than I ever dared to +dream of being, even when I was but thirty," he would say to her, +with reverent devotion. "I know not what I have done to deserve +this late summer which hath been given me." + +"When I consented to be your wife," she answered once, "I swore to +myself that I would make one for you;" and she crossed the hearth to +where he sat--she was attired in all her splendour for a Court ball, +and starred with jewels--bent over his chair and placed a kiss upon +his grizzled hair. + +Upon the night before her wedding with him, her sister, Mistress +Anne, had stolen to her chamber at a late hour. When she had +knocked upon the door, and had been commanded to enter, she had come +in, and closing the door behind her, had stood leaning against it, +looking before her, with her eyes wide with agitation and her poor +face almost grey. + +All the tapers for which places could be found had been gathered +together, and the room was a blaze of light. In the midst of it, +before her mirror, Clorinda stood attired in her bridal splendour of +white satin and flowing rich lace, a diamond crescent on her head, +sparks of light flaming from every point of her raiment. When she +caught sight of Anne's reflection in the glass before her, she +turned and stood staring at her in wonder. + +"What--nay, what is this?" she cried. "What do you come for? On my +soul, you come for something--or you have gone mad." + +Anne started forward, trembling, her hands clasped upon her breast, +and fell at her feet with sobs. + +"Yes, yes," she gasped, "I came--for something--to speak--to pray +you -! Sister--Clorinda, have patience with me--till my courage +comes again!" and she clutched her robe. + +Something which came nigh to being a shudder passed through Mistress +Clorinda's frame; but it was gone in a second, and she touched Anne- +-though not ungently--with her foot, withdrawing her robe. + +"Do not stain it with your tears," she said "'twould be a bad omen." + +Anne buried her face in her hands and knelt so before her. + +"'Tis not too late!" she said--"'tis not too late yet." + +"For what?" Clorinda asked. "For what, I pray you tell me, if you +can find your wits. You go beyond my patience with your folly." + +"Too late to stop," said Anne--"to draw back and repent." + +"What?" commanded Clorinda--"what then should I repent me?" + +"This marriage," trembled Mistress Anne, taking her poor hands from +her face to wring them. "It should not be." + +"Fool!" quoth Clorinda. "Get up and cease your grovelling. Did you +come to tell me it was not too late to draw back and refuse to be +the Countess of Dunstanwolde?" and she laughed bitterly. + +"But it should not be--it must not!" Anne panted. "I--I know, +sister, I know--" + +Clorinda bent deliberately and laid her strong, jewelled hand on her +shoulder with a grasp like a vice. There was no hurry in her +movement or in her air, but by sheer, slow strength she forced her +head backward so that the terrified woman was staring in her face. + +"Look at me," she said. "I would see you well, and be squarely +looked at, that my eyes may keep you from going mad. You have +pondered over this marriage until you have a frenzy. Women who live +alone are sometimes so, and your brain was always weak. What is it +that you know. Look--in my eyes--and tell me." + +It seemed as if her gaze stabbed through Anne's eyes to the very +centre of her brain. Anne tried to bear it, and shrunk and +withered; she would have fallen upon the floor at her feet a +helpless, sobbing heap, but the white hand would not let her go. + +"Find your courage--if you have lost it--and speak plain words," +Clorinda commanded. Anne tried to writhe away, but could not again, +and burst into passionate, hopeless weeping. + +"I cannot--I dare not!" she gasped. "I am afraid. You are right; +my brain is weak, and I--but that--that gentleman--who so loved you- +-" + +"Which?" said Clorinda, with a brief scornful laugh. + +"The one who was so handsome--with the fair locks and the gallant +air--" + +"The one you fell in love with and stared at through the window," +said Clorinda, with her brief laugh again. "John Oxon! He has +victims enough, forsooth, to have spared such an one as you are." + +"But he loved you!" cried Anne piteously, "and it must have been +that you--you too, sister--or--or else--" She choked again with +sobs, and Clorinda released her grasp upon her shoulder and stood +upright. + +"He wants none of me--nor I of him," she said, with strange +sternness. "We have done with one another. Get up upon your feet +if you would not have me thrust you out into the corridor." + +She turned from her, and walking back to her dressing-table, stood +there steadying the diadem on her hair, which had loosed a fastening +when Anne tried to writhe away from her. Anne half sat, half knelt +upon the floor, staring at her with wet, wild eyes of misery and +fear. + +"Leave your kneeling," commanded her sister again, "and come here." + +Anne staggered to her feet and obeyed her behest. In the glass she +could see the resplendent reflection; but Clorinda did not deign to +turn towards her while she addressed her, changing the while the +brilliants in her hair. + +"Hark you, sister Anne," she said. "I read you better than you +think. You are a poor thing, but you love me and--in my fashion--I +think I love you somewhat too. You think I should not marry a +gentleman whom you fancy I do not love as I might a younger, +handsomer man. You are full of love, and spinster dreams of it +which make you flighty. I love my Lord of Dunstanwolde as well as +any other man, and better than some, for I do not hate him. He has +a fine estate, and is a gentleman--and worships me. Since I have +been promised to him, I own I have for a moment seen another +gentleman who MIGHT--but 'twas but for a moment, and 'tis done with. +'Twas too late then. If we had met two years agone 'twould not have +been so. My Lord Dunstanwolde gives to me wealth, and rank, and +life at Court. I give to him the thing he craves with all his soul- +-myself. It is an honest bargain, and I shall bear my part of it +with honesty. I have no virtues--where should I have got them from, +forsooth, in a life like mine? I mean I have no women's virtues; +but I have one that is sometimes--not always--a man's. 'Tis that I +am not a coward and a trickster, and keep my word when 'tis given. +You fear that I shall lead my lord a bitter life of it. 'Twill not +be so. He shall live smoothly, and not suffer from me. What he has +paid for he shall honestly have. I will not cheat him as weaker +women do their husbands; for he pays--poor gentleman--he pays." + +And then, still looking at the glass, she pointed to the doorway +through which her sister had come, and in obedience to her gesture +of command, Mistress Anne stole silently away. + + + +CHAPTER X--"Yes--I have marked him" + + + +Through the brilliant, happy year succeeding to his marriage my Lord +of Dunstanwolde lived like a man who dreams a blissful dream and +knows it is one. + +"I feel," he said to his lady, "as if 'twere too great rapture to +last, and yet what end could come, unless you ceased to be kind to +me; and, in truth, I feel that you are too noble above all other +women to change, unless I were more unworthy than I could ever be +since you are mine." + +Both in the town and in the country, which last place heard many +things of his condition and estate through rumour, he was the man +most wondered at and envied of his time--envied because of his +strange happiness; wondered at because having, when long past youth, +borne off this arrogant beauty from all other aspirants she showed +no arrogance to him, and was as perfect a wife as could have been +some woman without gifts whom he had lifted from low estate and +endowed with rank and fortune. She seemed both to respect himself +and her position as his lady and spouse. Her manner of reigning in +his household was among his many delights the greatest. It was a +great house, and an old one, built long before by a Dunstanwolde +whose lavish feasts and riotous banquets had been the notable +feature of his life. It was curiously rambling in its structure. +The rooms of entertainment were large and splendid, the halls and +staircases stately; below stairs there was space for an army of +servants to be disposed of; and its network of cellars and wine- +vaults was so beyond all need that more than one long arched stone +passage was shut up as being without use, and but letting cold, damp +air into corridors leading to the servants' quarters. It was, +indeed, my Lady Dunstanwolde who had ordered the closing of this +part when it had been her pleasure to be shown her domain by her +housekeeper, the which had greatly awed and impressed her household +as signifying that, exalted lady as she was, her wit was practical +as well as brilliant, and that her eyes being open to her +surroundings, she meant not that her lacqueys should rob her and her +scullions filch, thinking that she was so high that she was ignorant +of common things and blind. + +"You will be well housed and fed and paid your dues," she said to +them; "but the first man or woman who does a task ill or dishonestly +will be turned from his place that hour. I deal justice--not +mercy." + +"Such a mistress they have never had before," said my lord when she +related this to him. "Nay, they have never dreamed of such a lady-- +one who can be at once so severe and so kind. But there is none +other such, my dearest one. They will fear and worship you." + +She gave him one of her sweet, splendid smiles. It was the +sweetness she at rare times gave her splendid smile which was her +marvellous power. + +"I would not be too grand a lady to be a good housewife," she said. +"I may not order your dinners, my dear lord, or sweep your +corridors, but they shall know I rule your household and would rule +it well." + +"You are a goddess!" he cried, kneeling to her, enraptured. "And +you have given yourself to a poor mortal man, who can but worship +you." + +"You give me all I have," she said, "and you love me nobly, and I am +grateful." + +Her assemblies were the most brilliant in the town, and the most to +be desired entrance to. Wits and beauties planned and intrigued +that they might be bidden to her house; beaux and fine ladies fell +into the spleen if she neglected them. Her lord's kinsman the Duke +of Osmonde, who had been present when she first knelt to Royalty, +had scarce removed his eyes from her so long as he could gaze. He +went to Dunstanwolde afterwards and congratulated him with stately +courtesy upon his great good fortune and happiness, speaking almost +with fire of her beauty and majesty, and thanking his kinsman that +through him such perfections had been given to their name and house. +From that time, at all special assemblies given by his kinsman he +was present, the observed of all observers. He was a man of whom +'twas said that he was the most magnificent gentleman in Europe; +that there was none to compare with him in the combination of gifts +given both by Nature and Fortune. His beauty both of feature and +carriage was of the greatest, his mind was of the highest, and his +education far beyond that of the age he lived in. It was not the +fashion of the day that men of his rank should devote themselves to +the cultivation of their intellects instead of to a life of +pleasure; but this he had done from his earliest youth, and now, in +his perfect though early maturity, he had no equal in polished +knowledge and charm of bearing. He was the patron of literature and +art; men of genius were not kept waiting in his ante-chamber, but +were received by him with courtesy and honour. At the Court 'twas +well known there was no man who stood so near the throne in favour, +and that there was no union so exalted that he might not have made +his suit as rather that of a superior than an equal. The Queen both +loved and honoured him, and condescended to avow as much with +gracious frankness. She knew no other man, she deigned to say, who +was so worthy of honour and affection, and that he had not married +must be because there was no woman who could meet him on ground that +was equal. If there were no scandals about him--and there were +none--'twas not because he was cold of heart or imagination. No man +or woman could look into his deep eye and not know that when love +came to him 'twould be a burning passion, and an evil fate if it +went ill instead of happily. + +"Being past his callow, youthful days, 'tis time he made some woman +a duchess," Dunstanwolde said reflectively once to his wife. +"'Twould be more fitting that he should; and it is his way to honour +his house in all things, and bear himself without fault as the head +of it. Methinks it strange he makes no move to do it." + +"No, 'tis not strange," said my lady, looking under her black- +fringed lids at the glow of the fire, as though reflecting also. +"There is no strangeness in it." + +"Why not?" her lord asked. + +"There is no mate for him," she answered slowly. "A man like him +must mate as well as marry, or he will break his heart with silent +raging at the weakness of the thing he is tied to. He is too strong +and splendid for a common woman. If he married one, 'twould be as +if a lion had taken to himself for mate a jackal or a sheep. Ah!" +with a long drawn breath--"he would go mad--mad with misery;" and +her hands, which lay upon her knee, wrung themselves hard together, +though none could see it. + +"He should have a goddess, were they not so rare," said +Dunstanwolde, gently smiling. "He should hold a bitter grudge +against me, that I, his unworthy kinsman, have been given the only +one." + +"Yes, he should have a goddess," said my lady slowly again; "and +there are but women, naught but women." + +"You have marked him well," said her lord, admiring her wisdom. +"Methinks that you--though you have spoken to him but little, and +have but of late become his kinswoman--have marked and read him +better than the rest of us." + +"Yes--I have marked him," was her answer. + +"He is a man to mark, and I have a keen eye." She rose up as she +spoke, and stood before the fire, lifted by some strong feeling to +her fullest height, and towering there, splendid in the shadow--for +'twas by twilight they talked. "He is a Man," she said--"he is a +Man! Nay, he is as God meant man should be. And if men were so, +there would be women great enough for them to mate with and to give +the world men like them." And but that she stood in the shadow, her +lord would have seen the crimson torrent rush up her cheek and brow, +and overspread her long round throat itself. + +If none other had known of it, there was one man who knew that she +had marked him, though she had borne herself towards him always with +her stateliest grace. This man was his Grace the Duke himself. +From the hour that he had stood transfixed as he watched her come up +the broad oak stair, from the moment that the red rose fell from her +wreath at his feet, and he had stooped to lift it in his hand, he +had seen her as no other man had seen her, and he had known that had +he not come but just too late, she would have been his own. Each +time he had beheld her since that night he had felt this burn more +deeply in his soul. He was too high and fine in all his thoughts to +say to himself that in her he saw for the first time the woman who +was his peer; but this was very truth--or might have been, if Fate +had set her youth elsewhere, and a lady who was noble and her own +mother had trained and guarded her. When he saw her at the Court +surrounded, as she ever was, by a court of her own; when he saw her +reigning in her lord's house, receiving and doing gracious honour to +his guests and hers; when she passed him in her coach, drawing every +eye by the majesty of her presence, as she drove through the town, +he felt a deep pang, which was all the greater that his honour bade +him conquer it. He had no ignoble thought of her, he would have +scorned to sully his soul with any light passion; to him she was the +woman who might have been his beloved wife and duchess, who would +have upheld with him the honour and traditions of his house, whose +strength and power and beauty would have been handed down to his +children, who so would have been born endowed with gifts befitting +the state to which Heaven had called them. It was of this he +thought when he saw her, and of naught less like to do her honour. +And as he had marked her so, he saw in her eyes, despite her dignity +and grace, she had marked him. He did not know how closely, or that +she gave him the attention he could not restrain himself from +bestowing upon her. But when he bowed before her, and she greeted +him with all courtesy, he saw in her great, splendid eye that had +Fate willed it so, she would have understood all his thoughts, +shared all his ambitions, and aided him to uphold his high ideals. +Nay, he knew she understood him even now, and was stirred by what +stirred him also, even though they met but rarely, and when they +encountered each other, spoke but as kinsman and kinswoman who would +show each other all gracious respect and honour. It was because of +this pang which struck his great heart at times that he was not a +frequent visitor at my Lord Dunstanwolde's mansion, but appeared +there only at such assemblies as were matters of ceremony, his +absence from which would have been a noted thing. His kinsman was +fond of him, and though himself of so much riper age, honoured him +greatly. At times he strove to lure him into visits of greater +familiarity; but though his kindness was never met coldly or +repulsed, a further intimacy was in some gracious way avoided. + +"My lady must beguile you to be less formal with us," said +Dunstanwolde. And later her ladyship spoke as her husband had +privately desired: "My lord would be made greatly happy if your +Grace would honour our house oftener," she said one night, when at +the end of a great ball he was bidding her adieu. + +Osmonde's deep eye met hers gently and held it. "My Lord +Dunstanwolde is always gracious and warm of heart to his kinsman," +he replied. "Do not let him think me discourteous or ungrateful. +In truth, your ladyship, I am neither the one nor the other." + +The eyes of each gazed into the other's steadfastly and gravely. +The Duke of Osmonde thought of Juno's as he looked at hers; they +were of such velvet, and held such fathomless deeps. + +"Your Grace is not so free as lesser men," Clorinda said. "You +cannot come and go as you would." + +"No," he answered gravely, "I cannot, as I would." + +And this was all. + +It having been known by all the world that, despite her beauty and +her conquests, Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had not smiled with great +favour upon Sir John Oxon in the country, it was not wondered at or +made any matter of gossip that the Countess of Dunstanwolde was but +little familiar with him and saw him but rarely at her house in +town. + +Once or twice he had appeared there, it is true, at my Lord +Dunstanwolde's instance, but my lady herself scarce seemed to see +him after her first courtesies as hostess were over. + +"You never smiled on him, my love," Dunstanwolde said to his wife. +"You bore yourself towards him but cavalierly, as was your +ladyship's way--with all but one poor servant," tenderly; "but he +was one of the many who followed in your train, and if these gay +young fellows stay away, 'twill be said that I keep them at a +distance because I am afraid of their youth and gallantry. I would +not have it fancied that I was so ungrateful as to presume upon your +goodness and not leave to you your freedom." + +"Nor would I, my lord," she answered. "But he will not come often; +I do not love him well enough." + +His marriage with the heiress who had wealth in the West Indies was +broken off, or rather 'twas said had come to naught. All the town +knew it, and wondered, and talked, because it had been believed at +first that the young lady was much enamoured of him, and that he +would soon lead her to the altar, the which his creditors had +greatly rejoiced over as promising them some hope that her fortune +would pay their bills of which they had been in despair. Later, +however, gossip said that the heiress had not been so tender as was +thought; that, indeed, she had been found to be in love with another +man, and that even had she not, she had heard such stories of Sir +John as promised but little nuptial happiness for any woman that +took him to husband. + +When my Lord Dunstanwolde brought his bride to town, and she soared +at once to splendid triumph and renown, inflaming every heart, and +setting every tongue at work, clamouring her praises, Sir John Oxon +saw her from afar in all the scenes of brilliant fashion she +frequented and reigned queen of. 'Twas from afar, it might be said, +he saw her only, though he was often near her, because she bore +herself as if she did not observe him, or as though he were a thing +which did not exist. The first time that she deigned to address him +was upon an occasion when she found herself standing so near him at +an assembly that in the crowd she brushed him with her robe. His +blue eyes were fixed burningly upon her, and as she brushed him he +drew in a hard breath, which she hearing, turned slowly and let her +own eyes fall upon his face. + +"You did not marry," she said. + +"No, I did not marry," he answered, in a low, bitter voice. "'Twas +your ladyship who did that." + +She faintly, slowly smiled. + +"I should not have been like to do otherwise," she said; "'tis an +honourable condition. I would advise you to enter it." + + + +CHAPTER XI--Wherein a noble life comes to an end + + + +When the earl and his countess went to their house in the country, +there fell to Mistress Anne a great and curious piece of good +fortune. In her wildest dreams she had never dared to hope that +such a thing might be. + +My Lady Dunstanwolde, on her first visit home, bore her sister back +with her to the manor, and there established her. She gave her a +suite of rooms and a waiting woman of her own, and even provided her +with a suitable wardrobe. This last she had chosen herself with a +taste and fitness which only such wit as her own could have devised. + +"They are not great rooms I give thee, Anne," she said, "but quiet +and small ones, which you can make home-like in such ways as I know +your taste lies. My lord has aided me to choose romances for your +shelves, he knowing more of books than I do. And I shall not dress +thee out like a peacock with gay colours and great farthingales. +They would frighten thee, poor woman, and be a burden with their +weight. I have chosen such things as are not too splendid, but will +suit thy pale face and shot partridge eyes." + +Anne stood in the middle of her room and looked about at its +comforts, wondering. + +"Sister," she said, "why are you so good to me? What have I done to +serve you? Why is it Anne instead of Barbara you are so gracious +to?" + +"Perchance because I am a vain woman and would be worshipped as you +worship me." + +"But you are always worshipped," Anne faltered. + +"Ay, by men!" said Clorinda, mocking; "but not by women. And it may +be that my pride is so high that I must be worshipped by a woman +too. You would always love me, sister Anne. If you saw me break +the law--if you saw me stab the man I hated to the heart, you would +think it must be pardoned to me." + +She laughed, and yet her voice was such that Anne lost her breath +and caught at it again. + +"Ay, I should love you, sister!" she cried. "Even then I could not +but love you. I should know you could not strike so an innocent +creature, and that to be so hated he must have been worthy of hate. +You--are not like other women, sister Clorinda; but you could not be +base--for you have a great heart." + +Clorinda put her hand to her side and laughed again, but with less +mocking in her laughter. + +"What do you know of my heart, Anne?" she said. "Till late I did +not know it beat, myself. My lord says 'tis a great one and noble, +but I know 'tis his own that is so. Have I done honestly by him, +Anne, as I told you I would? Have I been fair in my bargain--as +fair as an honest man, and not a puling, slippery woman." + +"You have been a great lady," Anne answered, her great dull, soft +eyes filling with slow tears as she gazed at her. "He says that you +have given to him a year of Heaven, and that you seem to him like +some archangel--for the lower angels seem not high enough to set +beside you." + +"'Tis as I said--'tis his heart that is noble," said Clorinda. "But +I vowed it should be so. He paid--he paid!" + +The country saw her lord's happiness as the town had done, and +wondered at it no less. The manor was thrown open, and guests came +down from town; great dinners and balls being given, at which all +the country saw the mistress reign at her consort's side with such a +grace as no lady ever had worn before. Sir Jeoffry, appearing at +these assemblies, was so amazed that he forgot to muddle himself +with drink, in gazing at his daughter and following her in all her +movements. + +"Look at her!" he said to his old boon companions and hers, who were +as much awed as he. "Lord! who would think she was the strapping, +handsome shrew that swore, and sang men's songs to us, and rode to +the hunt in breeches." + +He was awed at the thought of paying fatherly visits to her house, +and would have kept away, but that she was kind to him in the way he +was best able to understand. + +"I am country-bred, and have not the manners of your town men, my +lady," he said to her, as he sat with her alone on one of the first +mornings he spent with her in her private apartment. "I am used to +rap out an oath or an ill-mannered word when it comes to me. +Dunstanwolde has weaned you of hearing such things--and I am too old +a dog to change." + +"Wouldst have thought I was too old to change," answered she, "but I +was not. Did I not tell thee I would be a great lady. There is +naught a man or woman cannot learn who hath the wit." + +"Thou hadst it, Clo," said Sir Jeoffry, gazing at her with a sort of +slow wonder. "Thou hadst it. If thou hadst not -!" He paused, and +shook his head, and there was a rough emotion in his coarse face. +"I was not the man to have made aught but a baggage of thee, Clo. I +taught thee naught decent, and thou never heard or saw aught to +teach thee. Damn me!" almost with moisture in his eyes, "if I know +what kept thee from going to ruin before thou wert fifteen." + +She sat and watched him steadily. + +"Nor I," quoth she, in answer. "Nor I--but here thou seest me, Dad- +-an earl's lady, sitting before thee." + +"'Twas thy wit," said he, still moved, and fairly maudlin. "'Twas +thy wit and thy devil's will!" + +"Ay," she answered, "'twas they--my wit and my devil's will!" + +She rode to the hunt with him as she had been wont to do, but she +wore the latest fashion in hunting habit and coat; and though +'twould not have been possible for her to sit her horse better than +of old, or to take hedges and ditches with greater daring and +spirit, yet in some way every man who rode with her felt that 'twas +a great lady who led the field. The horse she rode was a fierce, +beauteous devil of a beast which Sir Jeoffry himself would scarce +have mounted even in his younger days; but she carried her loaded +whip, and she sat upon the brute as if she scarcely felt its temper, +and held it with a wrist of steel. + +My Lord Dunstanwolde did not hunt this season. He had never been +greatly fond of the sport, and at this time was a little ailing, but +he would not let his lady give up her pleasure because he could not +join it. + +"Nay," he said, "'tis not for the queen of the hunting-field to stay +at home to nurse an old man's aches. My pride would not let it be +so. Your father will attend you. Go--and lead them all, my dear." + +In the field appeared Sir John Oxon, who for a brief visit was at +Eldershawe. He rode close to my lady, though she had naught to say +to him after her first greetings of civility. He looked not as +fresh and glowing with youth as had been his wont only a year ago. +His reckless wildness of life and his town debaucheries had at last +touched his bloom, perhaps. He had a haggard look at moments when +his countenance was not lighted by excitement. 'Twas whispered that +he was deep enough in debt to be greatly straitened, and that his +marriage having come to naught his creditors were besetting him +without mercy. This and more than this, no one knew so well as my +Lady Dunstanwolde; but of a certainty she had little pity for his +evil case, if one might judge by her face, when in the course of the +running he took a hedge behind her, and pressing his horse, came up +by her side and spoke. + +"Clorinda," he began breathlessly, through set teeth. + +She could have left him and not answered, but she chose to restrain +the pace of her wild beast for a moment and look at him. + +"'Your ladyship!'" she corrected his audacity. "Or--'my Lady +Dunstanwolde.'" + +"There was a time"--he said. + +"This morning," she said, "I found a letter in a casket in my +closet. I do not know the mad villain who wrote it. I never knew +him." + +"You did not," he cried, with an oath, and then laughed scornfully. + +"The letter lies in ashes on the hearth," she said. "'Twas burned +unopened. Do not ride so close, Sir John, and do not play the +madman and the beast with the wife of my Lord Dunstanwolde." + +"'The wife!'" he answered. "'My lord!' 'Tis a new game this, and +well played, by God!" + +She did not so much as waver in her look, and her wide eyes smiled. + +"Quite new," she answered him--"quite new. And could I not have +played it well and fairly, I would not have touched the cards. Keep +your horse off, Sir John. Mine is restive, and likes not another +beast near him;" and she touched the creature with her whip, and he +was gone like a thunderbolt. + +The next day, being in her room, Anne saw her come from her +dressing-table with a sealed letter in her hand. She went to the +bell and rang it. + +"Anne," she said, "I am going to rate my woman and turn her from my +service. I shall not beat or swear at her as I was wont to do with +my women in time past. You will be afraid, perhaps; but you must +stay with me." + +She was standing by the fire with the letter held almost at arm's +length in her finger-tips, when the woman entered, who, seeing her +face, turned pale, and casting her eyes upon the letter, paler +still, and began to shake. + +"You have attended mistresses of other ways than mine," her lady +said in her slow, clear voice, which seemed to cut as knives do. +"Some fool and madman has bribed you to serve him. You cannot serve +me also. Come hither and put this in the fire. If 'twere to be +done I would make you hold it in the live coals with your hand." + +The woman came shuddering, looking as if she thought she might be +struck dead. She took the letter and kneeled, ashen pale, to burn +it. When 'twas done, her mistress pointed to the door. + +"Go and gather your goods and chattels together, and leave within +this hour," she said. "I will be my own tirewoman till I can find +one who comes to me honest." + +When she was gone, Anne sat gazing at the ashes on the hearth. She +was pale also. + +"Sister," she said, "do you--" + +"Yes," answered my lady. "'Tis a man who loved me, a cur and a +knave. He thought for an hour he was cured of his passion. I could +have told him 'twould spring up and burn more fierce than ever when +he saw another man possess me. 'Tis so with knaves and curs; and +'tis so with him. He hath gone mad again." + +"Ay, mad!" cried Anne--"mad, and base, and wicked!" + +Clorinda gazed at the ashes, her lips curling. + +"He was ever base," she said--"as he was at first, so he is now. +'Tis thy favourite, Anne," lightly, and she delicately spurned the +blackened tinder with her foot--"thy favourite, John Oxon." + +Mistress Anne crouched in her seat and hid her face in her thin +hands. + +"Oh, my lady!" she cried, not feeling that she could say "sister," +"if he be base, and ever was so, pity him, pity him! The base need +pity more than all." + +For she had loved him madly, all unknowing her own passion, not +presuming even to look up in his beautiful face, thinking of him +only as the slave of her sister, and in dead secrecy knowing strange +things--strange things! And when she had seen the letter she had +known the handwriting, and the beating of her simple heart had well- +nigh strangled her--for she had seen words writ by him before. + +* * * + +When Dunstanwolde and his lady went back to their house in town, +Mistress Anne went with them. Clorinda willed that it should be so. +She made her there as peaceful and retired a nest of her own as she +had given to her at Dunstanwolde. By strange good fortune Barbara +had been wedded to a plain gentleman, who, being a widower with +children, needed a help-meet in his modest household, and through a +distant relationship to Mistress Wimpole, encountered her charge, +and saw in her meekness of spirit the thing which might fall into +the supplying of his needs. A beauty or a fine lady would not have +suited him; he wanted but a housewife and a mother for his orphaned +children, and this, a young woman who had lived straitly, and been +forced to many contrivances for mere decency of apparel and ordinary +comfort, might be trained to become. + +So it fell that Mistress Anne could go to London without pangs of +conscience at leaving her sister in the country and alone. The +stateliness of the town mansion, my Lady Dunstanwolde's retinue of +lacqueys and serving-women, her little black page, who waited on her +and took her pug dogs to walk, her wardrobe, and jewels, and +equipages, were each and all marvels to her, but seemed to her mind +so far befitting that she remembered, wondering, the days when she +had darned the tattered tapestry in her chamber, and changed the +ribbands and fashions of her gowns. Being now attired fittingly, +though soberly as became her, she was not in these days--at least, +as far as outward seeming went--an awkward blot upon the scene when +she appeared among her sister's company; but at heart she was as +timid and shrinking as ever, and never mingled with the guests in +the great rooms when she could avoid so doing. Once or twice she +went forth with Clorinda in her coach and six, and saw the +glittering world, while she drew back into her corner of the +equipage and gazed with all a country-bred woman's timorous +admiration. + +"'Twas grand and like a beautiful show!" she said, when she came +home the first time. "But do not take me often, sister; I am too +plain and shy, and feel that I am naught in it." + +But though she kept as much apart from the great World of Fashion as +she could, she contrived to know of all her sister's triumphs; to +see her when she went forth in her bravery, though 'twere but to +drive in the Mall; to be in her closet with her on great nights when +her tirewomen were decking her in brocades and jewels, that she +might show her highest beauty at some assembly or ball of State. +And at all these times, as also at all others, she knew that she but +shared her own love and dazzled admiration with my Lord +Dunstanwolde, whose tenderness, being so fed by his lady's unfailing +graciousness of bearing and kindly looks and words, grew with every +hour that passed. + +They held one night a splendid assembly at which a member of the +Royal House was present. That night Clorinda bade her sister +appear. + +"Sometimes--I do not command it always--but sometimes you must show +yourself to our guests. My lord will not be pleased else. He says +it is not fitting that his wife's sister should remain unseen as if +we hid her away through ungraciousness. Your woman will prepare for +you all things needful. I myself will see that your dress becomes +you. I have commanded it already, and given much thought to its +shape and colour. I would have you very comely, Anne." And she +kissed her lightly on her cheek--almost as gently as she sometimes +kissed her lord's grey hair. In truth, though she was still a proud +lady and stately in her ways, there had come upon her some strange +subtle change Anne could not understand. + +On the day on which the assembly was held, Mistress Anne's woman +brought to her a beautiful robe. 'Twas flowered satin of the sheen +and softness of a dove's breast, and the lace adorning it was like a +spider's web for gossamer fineness. The robe was sweetly fashioned, +fitting her shape wondrously; and when she was attired in it at +night a little colour came into her cheeks to see herself so far +beyond all comeliness she had ever known before. When she found +herself in the midst of the dazzling scene in the rooms of +entertainment, she was glad when at last she could feel herself lost +among the crowd of guests. Her only pleasure in such scenes was to +withdraw to some hidden corner and look on as at a pageant or a +play. To-night she placed herself in the shadow of a screen, from +which retreat she could see Clorinda and Dunstanwolde as they +received their guests. Thus she found enjoyment enough; for, in +truth, her love and almost abject passion of adoration for her +sister had grown as his lordship's had, with every hour. For a +season there had rested upon her a black shadow beneath which she +wept and trembled, bewildered and lost; though even at its darkest +the object of her humble love had been a star whose brightness was +not dimmed, because it could not be so whatsoever passed before it. +This cloud, however, being it seemed dispelled, the star had shone +but more brilliant in its high place, and she the more passionately +worshipped it. To sit apart and see her idol's radiance, to mark +her as she reigned and seemed the more royal when she bent the knee +to royalty itself, to see the shimmer of her jewels crowning her +midnight hair and crashing the warm whiteness of her noble neck, to +observe the admiration in all eyes as they dwelt upon her--this was, +indeed, enough of happiness. + +"She is, as ever," she murmured, "not so much a woman as a proud +lovely goddess who has deigned to descend to earth. But my lord +does not look like himself. He seems shrunk in the face and old, +and his eyes have rings about them. I like not that. He is so kind +a gentleman and so happy that his body should not fail him. I have +marked that he has looked colourless for days, and Clorinda +questioned him kindly on it, but he said he suffered naught." + +'Twas but a little later than she had thought this, that she +remarked a gentleman step aside and stand quite near without +observing her. Feeling that she had no testimony to her +fancifulness, she found herself thinking in a vague fashion that he, +too, had come there because he chose to be unobserved. 'Twould not +have been so easy for him to retire as it had been for her smallness +and insignificance to do so; and, indeed, she did not fancy that he +meant to conceal himself, but merely to stand for a quiet moment a +little apart from the crowd. + +And as she looked up at him, wondering why this should be, she saw +he was the noblest and most stately gentleman she had ever beheld. + +She had never seen him before; he must either be a stranger or a +rare visitor. As Clorinda was beyond a woman's height, he was +beyond a man's. + +He carried himself as kingly as she did nobly; he had a countenance +of strong, manly beauty, and a deep tawny eye, thick-fringed and +full of fire; orders glittered upon his breast, and he wore a fair +periwig, which became him wondrously, and seemed to make his eye +more deep and burning by its contrast. + +Beside his strength and majesty of bearing the stripling beauty of +John Oxon would have seemed slight and paltry, a thing for flippant +women to trifle with. + +Mistress Anne looked at him with an admiration somewhat like +reverence, and as she did so a sudden thought rose to her mind, and +even as it rose, she marked what his gaze rested on, and how it +dwelt upon it, and knew that he had stepped apart to stand and gaze +as she did--only with a man's hid fervour--at her sister's self. + +'Twas as if suddenly a strange secret had been told her. She read +it in his face, because he thought himself unobserved, and for a +space had cast his mask aside. He stood and gazed as a man who, +starving at soul, fed himself through his eyes, having no hope of +other sustenance, or as a man weary with long carrying of a burden, +for a space laid it down for rest and to gather power to go on. She +heard him draw a deep sigh almost stifled in its birth, and there +was that in his face which she felt it was unseemly that a stranger +like herself should behold, himself unknowing of her near presence. + +She gently rose from her corner, wondering if she could retire from +her retreat without attracting his observation; but as she did so, +chance caused him to withdraw himself a little farther within the +shadow of the screen, and doing so, he beheld her. + +Then his face changed; the mask of noble calmness, for a moment +fallen, resumed itself, and he bowed before her with the reverence +of a courtly gentleman, undisturbed by the unexpectedness of his +recognition of her neighbourhood. + +"Madam," he said, "pardon my unconsciousness that you were near me. +You would pass?" And he made way for her. + +She curtseyed, asking his pardon with her dull, soft eyes. + +"Sir," she answered, "I but retired here for a moment's rest from +the throng and gaiety, to which I am unaccustomed. But chiefly I +sat in retirement that I might watch--my sister." + +"Your sister, madam?" he said, as if the questioning echo were +almost involuntary, and he bowed again in some apology. + +"My Lady Dunstanwolde," she replied. "I take such pleasure in her +loveliness and in all that pertains to her, it is a happiness to me +to but look on." + +Whatsoever the thing was in her loving mood which touched him and +found echo in his own, he was so far moved that he answered to her +with something less of ceremoniousness; remembering also, in truth, +that she was a lady he had heard of, and recalling her relationship +and name. + +"It is then Mistress Anne Wildairs I am honoured by having speech +with," he said. "My Lady Dunstanwolde has spoken of you in my +presence. I am my lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde;" again +bowing, and Anne curtseyed low once more. + +Despite his greatness, she felt a kindness and grace in him which +was not condescension, and which almost dispelled the timidity +which, being part of her nature, so unduly beset her at all times +when she addressed or was addressed by a stranger. John Oxon, +bowing his bright curls, and seeming ever to mock with his smiles, +had caused her to be overcome with shy awkwardness and blushes; but +this man, who seemed as far above him in person and rank and mind as +a god is above a graceful painted puppet, even appeared to give of +his own noble strength to her poor weakness. He bore himself +towards her with a courtly respect such as no human being had ever +shown to her before. He besought her again to be seated in her +nook, and stood before her conversing with such delicate sympathy +with her mood as seemed to raise her to the pedestal on which stood +less humble women. All those who passed before them he knew and +could speak easily of. The high deeds of those who were statesmen, +or men honoured at Court or in the field, he was familiar with; and +of those who were beauties or notable gentlewomen he had always +something courtly to say. + +Her own worship of her sister she knew full well he understood, +though he spoke of her but little. + +"Well may you gaze at her," he said. "So does all the world, and +honours and adores." + +He proffered her at last his arm, and she, having strangely taken +courage, let him lead her through the rooms and persuade her to some +refreshment. Seeing her so wondrously emerge from her chrysalis, +and under the protection of so distinguished a companion, all looked +at her as she passed with curious amazement, and indeed Mistress +Anne was all but overpowered by the reverence shown them as they +made their way. + +As they came again into the apartment wherein the host and hostess +received their guests, Anne felt her escort pause, and looked up at +him to see the meaning of his sudden hesitation. He was gazing +intently, not at Clorinda, but at the Earl of Dunstanwolde. + +"Madam," he said, "pardon me that I seem to detain you, but--but I +look at my kinsman. Madam," with a sudden fear in his voice, "he is +ailing--he sways as he stands. Let us go to him. Quickly! He +falls!" + +And, in sooth, at that very moment there arose a dismayed cry from +the guests about them, and there was a surging movement; and as they +pressed forward themselves through the throng, Anne saw Dunstanwolde +no more above the people, for he had indeed fallen and lay out- +stretched and deathly on the floor. + +'Twas but a few seconds before she and Osmonde were close enough to +him to mark his fallen face and ghastly pallor, and a strange dew +starting out upon his brow. + +But 'twas his wife who knelt beside his prostrate body, waving all +else aside with a great majestic gesture of her arm. + +"Back! back!" she cried. "Air! air! and water! My lord! My dear +lord!" + +But he did not answer, or even stir, though she bent close to him +and thrust her hand within his breast. And then the frightened +guests beheld a strange but beautiful and loving thing, such as +might have moved any heart to tenderness and wonder. This great +beauty, this worshipped creature, put her arms beneath and about the +helpless, awful body--for so its pallor and stillness indeed made +it--and lifted it in their powerful whiteness as if it had been the +body of a child, and so bore it to a couch near and laid it down, +kneeling beside it. + +Anne and Osmonde were beside her. Osmonde pale himself, but gently +calm and strong. He had despatched for a physician the instant he +saw the fall. + +"My lady," he said, bending over her, "permit me to approach. I +have some knowledge of these seizures. Your pardon!" + +He knelt also and took the moveless hand, feeling the pulse; he, +too, thrust his hand within the breast and held it there, looking at +the sunken face. + +"My dear lord," her ladyship was saying, as if to the prostrate +man's ear alone, knowing that her tender voice must reach him if +aught would--as indeed was truth. "Edward! My dear--dear lord!" + +Osmonde held his hand steadily over the heart. The guests shrunk +back, stricken with terror. + +There was that in this corner of the splendid room which turned +faces pale. + +Osmonde slowly withdrew his hand, and turning to the kneeling woman- +-with a pallor like that of marble, but with a noble tenderness and +pity in his eyes - + +"My lady," he said, "you are a brave woman. Your great courage must +sustain you. The heart beats no more. A noble life is finished." + +* * * + +The guests heard, and drew still farther back, a woman or two +faintly whimpering; a hurrying lacquey parted the crowd, and so, way +being made for him, the physician came quickly forward. + +Anne put her shaking hands up to cover her gaze. Osmonde stood +still, looking down. My Lady Dunstanwolde knelt by the couch and +hid her beautiful face upon the dead man's breast. + + + +CHAPTER XII--Which treats of the obsequies of my Lord of +Dunstanwolde, of his lady's widowhood, and of her return to town + + + +All that remained of my Lord Dunstanwolde was borne back to his +ancestral home, and there laid to rest in the ancient tomb in which +his fathers slept. Many came from town to pay him respect, and the +Duke of Osmonde was, as was but fitting, among them. The countess +kept her own apartments, and none but her sister, Mistress Anne, +beheld her. + +The night before the final ceremonies she spent sitting by her +lord's coffin, and to Anne it seemed that her mood was a stranger +one, than ever woman had before been ruled by. She did not weep or +moan, and only once kneeled down. In her sweeping black robes she +seemed more a majestic creature than she had ever been, and her +beauty more that of a statue than of a mortal woman. She sent away +all other watchers, keeping only her sister with her, and Anne +observed in her a strange protecting gentleness when she spoke of +the dead man. + +"I do not know whether dead men can feel and hear," she said. +"Sometimes there has come into my mind--and made me shudder--the +thought that, though they lie so still, mayhap they know what we do- +-and how they are spoken of as nothings whom live men and women but +wait a moment to thrust away, that their own living may go on again +in its accustomed way, or perchance more merrily. If my lord knows +aught, he will be grateful that I watch by him to-night in this +solemn room. He was ever grateful, and moved by any tenderness of +mine." + +'Twas as she said, the room was solemn, and this almost to +awfulness. It was a huge cold chamber at best, and draped with +black, and hung with hatchments; a silent gloom filled it which made +it like a tomb. Tall wax-candles burned in it dimly, but adding to +its solemn shadows with their faint light; and in his rich coffin +the dead man lay in his shroud, his hands like carvings of yellowed +ivory clasped upon his breast. + +Mistress Anne dared not have entered the place alone, and was so +overcome at sight of the pinched nostrils and sunk eyes that she +turned cold with fear. But Clorinda seemed to feel no dread or +shrinking. She went and stood beside the great funeral-draped bed +of state on which the coffin lay, and thus standing, looked down +with a grave, protecting pity in her face. Then she stooped and +kissed the dead man long upon the brow. + +"I will sit by you to-night," she said. "That which lies here will +be alone to-morrow. I will not leave you this last night. Had I +been in your place you would not leave me." + +She sat down beside him and laid her strong warm hand upon his cold +waxen ones, closing it over them as if she would give them heat. +Anne knelt and prayed--that all might be forgiven, that sins might +be blotted out, that this kind poor soul might find love and peace +in the kingdom of Heaven, and might not learn there what might make +bitter the memory of his last year of rapture and love. She was so +simple that she forgot that no knowledge of the past could embitter +aught when a soul looked back from Paradise. + +Throughout the watches of the night her sister sat and held the dead +man's hand; she saw her more than once smooth his grey hair almost +as a mother might have touched a sick sleeping child's; again she +kissed his forehead, speaking to him gently, as if to tell him he +need not fear, for she was close at hand; just once she knelt, and +Anne wondered if she prayed, and in what manner, knowing that prayer +was not her habit. + +'Twas just before dawn she knelt so, and when she rose and stood +beside him, looking down again, she drew from the folds of her robe +a little package. + +"Anne," she said, as she untied the ribband that bound it, "when +first I was his wife I found him one day at his desk looking at +these things as they lay upon his hand. He thought at first it +would offend me to find him so; but I told him that I was gentler +than he thought--though not so gentle as the poor innocent girl who +died in giving him his child. 'Twas her picture he was gazing at, +and a little ring and two locks of hair--one a brown ringlet from +her head, and one--such a tiny wisp of down--from the head of her +infant. I told him to keep them always and look at them often, +remembering how innocent she had been, and that she had died for +him. There were tears on my hand when he kissed it in thanking me. +He kept the little package in his desk, and I have brought it to +him." + +The miniature was of a sweet-faced girl with large loving childish +eyes, and cheeks that blushed like the early morning. Clorinda +looked at her almost with tenderness. + +"There is no marrying or giving in marriage, 'tis said," quoth she; +"but were there, 'tis you who were his wife--not I. I was but a +lighter thing, though I bore his name and he honoured me. When you +and your child greet him he will forget me--and all will be well." + +She held the miniature and the soft hair to his cold lips a moment, +and Anne saw with wonder that her own mouth worked. She slipped the +ring on his least finger, and hid the picture and the ringlets +within the palms of his folded hands. + +"He was a good man," she said; "he was the first good man that I had +ever known." And she held out her hand to Anne and drew her from +the room with her, and two crystal tears fell upon the bosom of her +black robe and slipped away like jewels. + +When the funeral obsequies were over, the next of kin who was heir +came to take possession of the estate which had fallen to him, and +the widow retired to her father's house for seclusion from the +world. The town house had been left to her by her deceased lord, +but she did not wish to return to it until the period of her +mourning was over and she laid aside her weeds. The income the earl +had been able to bestow upon her made her a rich woman, and when she +chose to appear again in the world it would be with the power to +mingle with it fittingly. + +During her stay at her father's house she did much to make it a more +suitable abode for her, ordering down from London furnishings and +workmen to set her own apartments and Anne's in order. But she +would not occupy the rooms she had lived in heretofore. For some +reason it seemed to be her whim to have begun to have an enmity for +them. The first day she entered them with Anne she stopped upon the +threshold. + +"I will not stay here," she said. "I never loved the rooms--and now +I hate them. It seems to me it was another woman who lived in them- +-in another world. 'Tis so long ago that 'tis ghostly. Make ready +the old red chambers for me," to her woman; "I will live there. +They have been long closed, and are worm-eaten and mouldy perchance; +but a great fire will warm them. And I will have furnishings from +London to make them fit for habitation." + +The next day it seemed for a brief space as if she would have +changed even from the red chambers. + +"I did not know," she said, turning with a sudden movement from a +side window, "that one might see the old rose garden from here. I +would not have taken the room had I guessed it. It is too dreary a +wilderness, with its tangle of briars and its broken sun-dial." + +"You cannot see the dial from here," said Anne, coming towards her +with a strange paleness and haste. "One cannot see WITHIN the +garden from any window, surely." + +"Nay," said Clorinda; "'tis not near enough, and the hedges are too +high; but one knows 'tis there, and 'tis tiresome." + +"Let us draw the curtains and not look, and forget it," said poor +Anne. And she drew the draperies with a trembling hand; and ever +after while they dwelt in the room they stayed so. + +My lady wore her mourning for more than a year, and in her sombre +trailing weeds was a wonder to behold. She lived in her father's +house, and saw no company, but sat or walked and drove with her +sister Anne, and visited the poor. The perfect stateliness of her +decorum was more talked about than any levity would have been; those +who were wont to gossip expecting that having made her fine match +and been so soon rid of her lord, she would begin to show her +strange wild breeding again, and indulge in fantastical whims. That +she should wear her mourning with unflinching dignity and withdraw +from the world as strictly as if she had been a lady of royal blood +mourning her prince, was the unexpected thing, and so was talked of +everywhere. + +At the end of the eighteenth month she sent one day for Anne, who, +coming at her bidding, found her standing in her chamber surrounded +by black robes and draperies piled upon the bed, and chairs, and +floor, their sombreness darkening the room like a cloud; but she +stood in their midst in a trailing garment of pure white, and in her +bosom was a bright red rose tied with a knot of scarlet ribband, +whose ends fell floating. Her woman was upon her knees before a +coffer in which she was laying the weeds as she folded them. + +Mistress Anne paused within the doorway, her eyes dazzled by the +tall radiant shape and blot of scarlet colour as if by the shining +of the sun. She knew in that moment that all was changed, and that +the world of darkness they had been living in for the past months +was swept from existence. When her sister had worn her mourning +weeds she had seemed somehow almost pale; but now she stood in the +sunlight with the rich scarlet on her cheek and lip, and the stars +in her great eyes. + +"Come in, sister Anne," she said. "I lay aside my weeds, and my +woman is folding them away for me. Dost know of any poor creature +newly left a widow whom some of them would be a help to? 'Tis a +pity that so much sombreness should lie in chests when there are +perhaps poor souls to whom it would be a godsend." + +Before the day was over, there was not a shred of black stuff left +in sight; such as had not been sent out of the house to be +distributed, being packed away in coffers in the garrets under the +leads. + +"You will wear it no more, sister?" Anne asked once. "You will wear +gay colours--as if it had never been?" + +"It IS as if it had never been," Clorinda answered. "Ere now her +lord is happy with her, and he is so happy that I am forgot. I had +a fancy that--perhaps at first--well, if he had looked down on +earth--remembering--he would have seen I was faithful in my +honouring of him. But now, I am sure--" + +She stopped with a half laugh. "'Twas but a fancy," she said. +"Perchance he has known naught since that night he fell at my feet-- +and even so, poor gentleman, he hath a happy fate. Yes, I will wear +gay colours," flinging up her arms as if she dropped fetters, and +stretched her beauteous limbs for ease--"gay colours--and roses and +rich jewels--and all things--ALL that will make me beautiful!" + +The next day there came a chest from London, packed close with +splendid raiment; when she drove out again in her chariot her +servants' sad-coloured liveries had been laid by, and she was +attired in rich hues, amidst which she glowed like some flower new +bloomed. + +Her house in town was thrown open again, and set in order for her +coming. She made her journey back in state, Mistress Anne +accompanying her in her travelling-coach. As she passed over the +highroad with her equipage and her retinue, or spent the night for +rest at the best inns in the towns and villages, all seemed to know +her name and state. + +"'Tis the young widow of the Earl of Dunstanwolde," people said to +each other--"she that is the great beauty, and of such a wit and +spirit that she is scarce like a mere young lady. 'Twas said she +wed him for his rank; but afterwards 'twas known she made him a +happy gentleman, though she gave him no heir. She wore weeds for +him beyond the accustomed time, and is but now issuing from her +retirement." + +Mistress Anne felt as if she were attending some royal lady's +progress, people so gazed at them and nudged each other, wondered +and admired. + +"You do not mind that all eyes rest on you," she said to her sister; +"you are accustomed to be gazed at." + +"I have been gazed at all my life," my lady answered; "I scarce take +note of it." + +On their arrival at home they met with fitting welcome and +reverence. The doors of the town house were thrown open wide, and +in the hall the servants stood in line, the housekeeper at the head +with her keys at her girdle, the little jet-black negro page +grinning beneath his turban with joy to see his lady again, he +worshipping her as a sort of fetich, after the manner of his race. +'Twas his duty to take heed to the pet dogs, and he stood holding by +their little silver chains a smart-faced pug and a pretty spaniel. +His lady stopped a moment to pat them and to speak to him a word of +praise of their condition; and being so favoured, he spoke also, +rolling his eyes in his delight at finding somewhat to impart. + +"Yesterday, ladyship, when I took them out," he said, "a gentleman +marked them, knowing whose they were. He asked me when my lady came +again to town, and I answered him to-day. 'Twas the fair gentleman +in his own hair." + +"'Twas Sir John Oxon, your ladyship," said the lacquey nearest to +him. + +Her ladyship left caressing her spaniel and stood upright. Little +Nero was frightened, fearing she was angered; she stood so straight +and tall, but she said nothing and passed on. + +At the top of the staircase she turned to Mistress Anne with a +laugh. + +"Thy favourite again, Anne," she said. "He means to haunt me, now +we are alone. 'Tis thee he comes after." + + + +CHAPTER XIII--Wherein a deadly war begins + + + +The town and the World of Fashion greeted her on her return with +open arms. Those who looked on when she bent the knee to kiss the +hand of Royalty at the next drawing-room, whispered among themselves +that bereavement had not dimmed her charms, which were even more +radiant than they had been at her presentation on her marriage, and +that the mind of no man or woman could dwell on aught as mournful as +widowhood in connection with her, or, indeed, could think of +anything but her brilliant beauty. 'Twas as if from this time she +was launched into a new life. Being rich, of high rank, and no +longer an unmarried woman, her position had a dignity and freedom +which there was no creature but might have envied. As the wife of +Dunstanwolde she had been the fashion, and adored by all who dared +adore her; but as his widow she was surrounded and besieged. A +fortune, a toast, a wit, and a beauty, she combined all the things +either man or woman could desire to attach themselves to the train +of; and had her air been less regal, and her wit less keen of edge, +she would have been so beset by flatterers and toadies that life +would have been burdensome. But this she would not have, and was +swift enough to detect the man whose debts drove him to the +expedient of daring to privately think of the usefulness of her +fortune, or the woman who manoeuvred to gain reputation or success +by means of her position and power. + +"They would be about me like vultures if I were weak fool enough to +let them," she said to Anne. "They cringe and grovel like spaniels, +and flatter till 'tis like to make one sick. 'Tis always so with +toadies; they have not the wit to see that their flattery is an +insolence, since it supposes adulation so rare that one may be moved +by it. The men with empty pockets would marry me, forsooth, and the +women be dragged into company clinging to my petticoats. But they +are learning. I do not shrink from giving them sharp lessons." + +This she did without mercy, and in time cleared herself of hangers- +on, so that her banquets and assemblies were the most distinguished +of the time, and the men who paid their court to her were of such +place and fortune that their worship could but be disinterested. + +Among the earliest to wait upon her was his Grace of Osmonde, who +found her one day alone, save for the presence of Mistress Anne, +whom she kept often with her. When the lacquey announced him, Anne, +who sat upon the same seat with her, felt her slightly start, and +looking up, saw in her countenance a thing she had never beheld +before, nor had indeed ever dreamed of beholding. It was a strange, +sweet crimson which flowed over her face, and seemed to give a +wondrous deepness to her lovely orbs. She rose as a queen might +have risen had a king come to her, but never had there been such +pulsing softness in her look before. 'Twas in some curious fashion +like the look of a girl; and, in sooth, she was but a girl in years, +but so different to all others of her age, and had lived so singular +a life, that no one ever thought of her but as a woman, or would +have deemed it aught but folly to credit her with any tender emotion +or blushing warmth girlhood might be allowed. + +His Grace was as courtly of bearing as he had ever been. He stayed +not long, and during his visit conversed but on such subjects as a +kinsman may graciously touch upon; but Anne noted in him a new look +also, though she could scarce have told what it might be. She +thought that he looked happier, and her fancy was that some burden +had fallen from him. + +Before he went away he bent low and long over Clorinda's hand, +pressing his lips to it with a tenderness which strove not to +conceal itself. And the hand was not withdrawn, her ladyship +standing in sweet yielding, the tender crimson trembling on her +cheek. Anne herself trembled, watching her new, strange loveliness +with a sense of fascination; she could scarce withdraw her eyes, it +seemed so as if the woman had been reborn. + +"Your Grace will come to us again," my lady said, in a soft voice. +"We are two lonely women," with her radiant compelling smile, "and +need your kindly countenancing." + +His eyes dwelt deep in hers as he answered, and there was a flush +upon his own cheek, man and warrior though he was. + +"If I might come as often as I would," he said, "I should be at your +door, perhaps, with too great frequency." + +"Nay, your Grace," she answered. "Come as often as WE would--and +see who wearies first. 'Twill not be ourselves." + +He kissed her hand again, and this time 'twas passionately, and when +he left her presence it was with a look of radiance on his noble +face, and with the bearing of a king new crowned. + +For a few moments' space she stood where he had parted from her, +looking as though listening to the sound of his step, as if she +would not lose a footfall; then she went to the window, and stood +among the flowers there, looking down into the street, and Anne saw +that she watched his equipage. + +'Twas early summer, and the sunshine flooded her from head to foot; +the window and balcony were full of flowers--yellow jonquils and +daffodils, white narcissus, and all things fragrant of the spring. +The scent of them floated about her like an incense, and a straying +zephyr blew great puffs of their sweetness back into the room. Anne +felt it all about her, and remembered it until she was an aged +woman. + +Clorinda's bosom rose high in an exultant, rapturous sigh. + +"'Tis the Spring that comes," she murmured breathlessly. "Never +hath it come to me before." + +Even as she said the words, at the very moment of her speaking, +Fate--a strange Fate indeed--brought to her yet another visitor. +The door was thrown open wide, and in he came, a lacquey crying +aloud his name. 'Twas Sir John Oxon. + +* * * + +Those of the World of Fashion who were wont to gossip, had bestowed +upon them a fruitful subject for discussion over their tea-tables, +in the future of the widowed Lady Dunstanwolde. All the men being +enamoured of her, 'twas not likely that she would long remain +unmarried, her period of mourning being over; and, accordingly, +forthwith there was every day chosen for her a new husband by those +who concerned themselves in her affairs, and they were many. One +week 'twas a great general she was said to smile on; again, a great +beau and female conqueror, it being argued that, having made her +first marriage for rank and wealth, and being a passionate and +fantastic beauty, she would this time allow herself to be ruled by +her caprice, and wed for love; again, a certain marquis was named, +and after him a young earl renowned for both beauty and wealth; but +though each and all of those selected were known to have laid +themselves at her feet, none of them seemed to have met with the +favour they besought for. + +There were two men, however, who were more spoken of than all the +rest, and whose court awakened a more lively interest; indeed, 'twas +an interest which was lively enough at times to become almost a +matter of contention, for those who upheld the cause of the one man +would not hear of the success of the other, the claims of each being +considered of such different nature. These two men were the Duke of +Osmonde and Sir John Oxon. 'Twas the soberer and more dignified who +were sure his Grace had but to proffer his suit to gain it, and +their sole wonder lay in that he did not speak more quickly. + +"But being a man of such noble mind, it may be that he would leave +her to her freedom yet a few months, because, despite her +stateliness, she is but young, and 'twould be like his +honourableness to wish that she should see many men while she is +free to choose, as she has never been before. For these days she is +not a poor beauty as she was when she took Dunstanwolde." + +The less serious, or less worldly, especially the sentimental +spinsters and matrons and romantic young, who had heard and enjoyed +the rumours of Mistress Clorinda Wildairs' strange early days, were +prone to build much upon a certain story of that time. + +"Sir John Oxon was her first love," they said. "He went to her +father's house a beautiful young man in his earliest bloom, and she +had never encountered such an one before, having only known country +dolts and her father's friends. 'Twas said they loved each other, +but were both passionate and proud, and quarrelled bitterly. Sir +John went to France to strive to forget her in gay living; he even +obeyed his mother and paid court to another woman, and Mistress +Clorinda, being of fierce haughtiness, revenged herself by marrying +Lord Dunstanwolde." + +"But she has never deigned to forgive him," 'twas also said. "She +is too haughty and of too high a temper to forgive easily that a man +should seem to desert her for another woman's favour. Even when +'twas whispered that she favoured him, she was disdainful, and +sometimes flouted him bitterly, as was her way with all men. She +was never gentle, and had always a cutting wit. She will use him +hardly before she relents; but if he sues patiently enough with such +grace as he uses with other women, love will conquer her at last, +for 'twas her first." + +She showed him no great favour, it was true; and yet it seemed she +granted him more privilege than she had done during her lord's life, +for he was persistent in his following her, and would come to her +house whether of her will or of his own. Sometimes he came there +when the Duke of Osmonde was with her--this happened more than once- +-and then her ladyship's face, which was ever warmly beautiful when +Osmonde was near, would curiously change. It would grow pale and +cold; but in her eyes would burn a strange light which one man knew +was as the light in the eyes of a tigress lying chained, but +crouching to leap. But it was not Osmonde who felt this, he saw +only that she changed colour, and having heard the story of her +girlhood, a little chill of doubt would fall upon his noble heart. +It was not doubt of her, but of himself, and fear that his great +passion made him blind; for he was the one man chivalrous enough to +remember how young she was, and to see the cruelty of the Fate which +had given her unmothered childhood into the hands of a coarse rioter +and debauchee, making her his plaything and his whim. And if in her +first hours of bloom she had been thrown with youthful manhood and +beauty, what more in the course of nature than that she should have +learned to love; and being separated from her young lover by their +mutual youthful faults of pride and passionateness of temper, what +more natural than, being free again, and he suing with all his soul, +that her heart should return to him, even though through a struggle +with pride. In her lord's lifetime he had not seen Oxon near her; +and in those days when he had so struggled with his own surging +love, and striven to bear himself nobly, he had kept away from her, +knowing that his passion was too great and strong for any man to +always hold at bay and make no sign, because at brief instants he +trembled before the thought that in her eyes he had seen that which +would have sprung to answer the same self in him if she had been a +free woman. But now when, despite her coldness, which never melted +to John Oxon, she still turned pale and seemed to fall under a +restraint on his coming, a man of sufficient high dignity to be +splendidly modest where his own merit was concerned, might well feel +that for this there must be a reason, and it might be a grave one. + +So though he would not give up his suit until he was sure that 'twas +either useless or unfair, he did not press it as he would have done, +but saw his lady when he could, and watched with all the tenderness +of passion her lovely face and eyes. But one short town season +passed before he won his prize; but to poor Anne it seemed that in +its passing she lived years. + +Poor woman, as she had grown thin and large-eyed in those days gone +by, she grew so again. Time in passing had taught her so much that +others did not know; and as she served her sister, and waited on her +wishes, she saw that of which no other dreamed, and saw without +daring to speak, or show by any sign, her knowledge. + +The day when Lady Dunstanwolde had turned from standing among her +daffodils, and had found herself confronting the open door of her +saloon, and John Oxon passing through it, Mistress Anne had seen +that in her face and his which had given to her a shock of terror. +In John Oxon's blue eyes there had been a set fierce look, and in +Clorinda's a blaze which had been like a declaration of war; and +these same looks she had seen since that day, again and again. +Gradually it had become her sister's habit to take Anne with her +into the world as she had not done before her widowhood, and Anne +knew whence this custom came. There were times when, by use of her +presence, she could avoid those she wished to thrust aside, and Anne +noted, with a cold sinking of the spirit, that the one she would +plan to elude most frequently was Sir John Oxon; and this was not +done easily. The young man's gay lightness of demeanour had +changed. The few years that had passed since he had come to pay his +courts to the young beauty in male attire, had brought experiences +to him which had been bitter enough. He had squandered his fortune, +and failed to reinstate himself by marriage; his dissipations had +told upon him, and he had lost his spirit and good-humour; his +mocking wit had gained a bitterness; his gallantry had no longer the +gaiety of youth. And the woman he had loved for an hour with +youthful passion, and had dared to dream of casting aside in boyish +insolence, had risen like a phoenix, and soared high and triumphant +to the very sun itself. "He was ever base," Clorinda had said. "As +he was at first he is now," and in the saying there was truth. If +she had been helpless and heartbroken, and had pined for him, he +would have treated her as a victim, and disdained her humiliation +and grief; magnificent, powerful, rich, in fullest beauty, and +disdaining himself, she filled him with a mad passion of love which +was strangely mixed with hatred and cruelty. To see her surrounded +by her worshippers, courted by the Court itself, all eyes drawn +towards her as she moved, all hearts laid at her feet, was torture +to him. In such cases as his and hers, it was the woman who should +sue for love's return, and watch the averted face, longing for the +moment when it would deign to turn and she could catch the cold eye +and plead piteously with her own. This he had seen; this, men like +himself, but older, had taught him with vicious art; but here was a +woman who had scorned him at the hour which should have been the +moment of his greatest powerfulness, who had mocked at and lashed +him in the face with the high derision of a creature above law, and +who never for one instant had bent her neck to the yoke which women +must bear. She had laughed it to scorn--and him--and all things-- +and gone on her way, crowned with her scarlet roses, to wealth, and +rank, and power, and adulation; while he--the man, whose right it +was to be transgressor--had fallen upon hard fortune, and was losing +step by step all she had won. In his way he loved her madly--as he +had loved her before, and as he would have loved any woman who +embodied triumph and beauty; and burning with desire for both, and +with jealous rage of all, he swore he would not be outdone, +befooled, cast aside, and trampled on. + +At the playhouse when she looked from her box, she saw him leaning +against some pillar or stationed in some noticeable spot, his bold +blue eyes fixed burningly upon her; at fashionable assemblies he +made his way to her side and stood near her, gazing, or dropping +words into her ear; at church he placed himself in some pew near by, +that she and all the world might behold him; when she left her coach +and walked in the Mall he joined her or walked behind. At such +times in my lady's close-fringed eyes there shone a steady gleam; +but they were ever eyes that glowed, and there were none who had +ever come close enough to her to know her well, and so there were +none who read its meaning. Only Anne knew as no other creature +could, and looked on with secret terror and dismay. The world but +said that he was a man mad with love, and desperate at the knowledge +of the powerfulness of his rivals, could not live beyond sight of +her. + +They did not hear the words that passed between them at times when +he stood near her in some crowd, and dropped, as 'twas thought, +words of burning prayer and love into her ear. 'Twas said that it +was like her to listen with unchanging face, and when she deigned +reply, to answer without turning towards him. But such words and +replies it had more than once been Anne's ill-fortune to be near +enough to catch, and hearing them she had shuddered. + +One night at a grand rout, the Duke of Osmonde but just having left +the reigning beauty's side, she heard the voice she hated close by +her, speaking. + +"You think you can disdain me to the end," it said. "Your ladyship +is SURE so?" + +She did not turn or answer, and there followed a low laugh. + +"You think a man will lie beneath your feet and be trodden upon +without speaking. You are too high and bold." + +She waved her painted fan, and gazed steadily before her at the +crowd, now and then bending her head in gracious greeting and +smiling at some passer-by. + +"If I could tell the story of the rose garden, and of what the sun- +dial saw, and what the moon shone on--" he said. + +He heard her draw her breath sharply through her teeth, he saw her +white bosom lift as if a wild beast leapt within it, and he laughed +again. + +"His Grace of Osmonde returns," he said; and then marking, as he +never failed to do, bitterly against his will, the grace and majesty +of this rival, who was one of the greatest and bravest of England's +gentlemen, and knowing that she marked it too, his rage so mounted +that it overcame him. + +"Sometimes," he said, "methinks that I shall KILL you!" + +"Would you gain your end thereby?" she answered, in a voice as low +and deadly. + +"I would frustrate his--and yours." + +"Do it, then," she hissed back, "some day when you think I fear +you." + +"'Twould be too easy," he answered. "You fear it too little. There +are bitterer things." + +She rose and met his Grace, who had approached her. Always to his +greatness and his noble heart she turned with that new feeling of +dependence which her whole life had never brought to her before. +His deep eyes, falling on her tenderly as she rose, were filled with +protecting concern. Involuntarily he hastened his steps. + +"Will your Grace take me to my coach?" she said. "I am not well. +May I--go?" as gently as a tender, appealing girl. + +And moved by this, as by her pallor, more than his man's words could +have told, he gave her his arm and drew her quickly and supportingly +away. + +Mistress Anne did not sleep well that night, having much to distract +her mind and keep her awake, as was often in these days the case. +When at length she closed her eyes her slumber was fitful and broken +by dreams, and in the mid hour of the darkness she wakened with a +start as if some sound had aroused her. Perhaps there had been some +sound, though all was still when she opened her eyes; but in the +chair by her bedside sat Clorinda in her night-rail, her hands wrung +hard together on her knee, her black eyes staring under a brow knit +into straight deep lines. + +"Sister!" cried Anne, starting up in bed. "Sister!" + +Clorinda slowly turned her head towards her, whereupon Anne saw that +in her face there was a look as if of horror which struggled with a +grief, a woe, too monstrous to be borne. + +"Lie down, Anne," she said. "Be not afraid--'tis only I," bitterly- +-"who need fear?" + +Anne cowered among the pillows and hid her face in her thin hands. +She knew so well that this was true. + +"I never thought the time would come," her sister said, "when I +should seek you for protection. A thing has come upon me--perhaps I +shall go mad--to-night, alone in my room, I wanted to sit near a +woman--'twas not like me, was it?" + +Mistress Anne crept near the bed's edge, and stretching forth a +hand, touched hers, which were as cold as marble. + +"Stay with me, sister," she prayed. "Sister, do not go! What--what +can I say?" + +"Naught," was the steady answer. "There is naught to be said. You +were always a woman--I was never one--till now." + +She rose up from her chair and threw up her arms, pacing to and fro. + +"I am a desperate creature," she cried. "Why was I born?" + +She walked the room almost like a thing mad and caged. + +"Why was I thrown into the world?" striking her breast. "Why was I +made so--and not one to watch or care through those mad years? To +be given a body like this--and tossed to the wolves." + +She turned to Anne, her arms outstretched, and so stood white and +strange and beauteous as a statue, with drops like great pearls +running down her lovely cheeks, and she caught her breath sobbingly, +like a child. + +"I was thrown to them," she wailed piteously, "and they harried me-- +and left the marks of their great teeth--and of the scars I cannot +rid myself--and since it was my fate--pronounced from my first hour- +-why was not this," clutching her breast, "left hard as 'twas at +first? Not a woman's--not a woman's, but a she-cub's. Ah! 'twas +not just--not just that it should be so!" + +Anne slipped from her bed and ran to her, falling upon her knees and +clinging to her, weeping bitterly. + +"Poor heart!" she cried. "Poor, dearest heart!" + +Her touch and words seemed to recall Clorinda to herself. She +started as if wakened from a dream, and drew her form up rigid. + +"I have gone mad," she said. "What is it I do?" She passed her +hand across her brow and laughed a little wild laugh. "Yes," she +said; "this it is to be a woman--to turn weak and run to other +women--and weep and talk. Yes, by these signs I AM a woman!" She +stood with her clenched hands pressed against her breast. "In any +fair fight," she said, "I could have struck back blow for blow--and +mine would have been the heaviest; but being changed into a woman, +my arms are taken from me. He who strikes, aims at my bared breast- +-and that he knows and triumphs in." + +She set her teeth together, and ground them, and the look, which was +like that of a chained and harried tigress, lit itself in her eyes. + +"But there is NONE shall beat me," she said through these fierce +shut teeth. "Nay I there is NONE! Get up, Anne," bending to raise +her. "Get up, or I shall be kneeling too--and I must stand upon my +feet." + +She made a motion as if she would have turned and gone from the room +without further explanation, but Anne still clung to her. She was +afraid of her again, but her piteous love was stronger than her +fear. + +"Let me go with you," she cried. "Let me but go and lie in your +closet that I may be near, if you should call." + +Clorinda put her hands upon her shoulders, and stooping, kissed her, +which in all their lives she had done but once or twice. + +"God bless thee, poor Anne," she said. "I think thou wouldst lie on +my threshold and watch the whole night through, if I should need it; +but I have given way to womanish vapours too much--I must go and be +alone. I was driven by my thoughts to come and sit and look at thy +good face--I did not mean to wake thee. Go back to bed." + +She would be obeyed, and led Anne to her couch herself, making her +lie down, and drawing the coverlet about her; after which she stood +upright with a strange smile, laying her hands lightly about her own +white throat. + +"When I was a new-born thing and had a little throat and a weak +breath," she cried, "'twould have been an easy thing to end me. I +have been told I lay beneath my mother when they found her dead. +If, when she felt her breath leaving her, she had laid her hand upon +my mouth and stopped mine, I should not," with the little laugh +again--"I should not lie awake to-night." + +And then she went away. + + + +CHAPTER XIV--Containing the history of the breaking of the horse +Devil, and relates the returning of his Grace of Osmonde from France + + + +There were in this strange nature, depths so awful and profound that +it was not to be sounded or to be judged as others were. But one +thing could have melted or caused the unconquerable spirit to bend, +and this was the overwhelming passion of love--not a slight, tender +feeling, but a great and powerful one, such as could be awakened but +by a being of as strong and deep a nature as itself, one who was in +all things its peer. + +"I have been lonely--lonely all my life," my Lady Dunstanwolde had +once said to her sister, and she had indeed spoken a truth. + +Even in her childhood she had felt in some strange way she stood +apart from the world about her. Before she had been old enough to +reason she had been conscious that she was stronger and had greater +power and endurance than any human being about her. Her strength +she used in these days in wilful tyranny, and indeed it was so used +for many a day when she was older. The time had never been when an +eye lighted on her with indifference, or when she could not rule and +punish as she willed. As an infant she had browbeaten the women- +servants and the stable-boys and grooms; but because of her quick +wit and clever tongue, and also because no humour ever made her +aught but a creature well worth looking at, they had taken her +bullying in good-humour and loved her in their coarse way. She had +tyrannised over her father and his companions, and they had adored +and boasted of her; but there had not been one among them whom she +could have turned to if a softer moment had come upon her and she +had felt the need of a friend, nor indeed one whom she did not +regard privately with contempt. + +A god or goddess forced upon earth and surrounded by mere human +beings would surely feel a desolateness beyond the power of common +words to express, and a human being endowed with powers and physical +gifts so rare as to be out of all keeping with those of its fellows +of ordinary build and mental stature must needs be lonely too. + +She had had no companion, because she had found none like herself, +and none with whom she could have aught in common. Anne she had +pitied, being struck by some sense of the unfairness of her lot as +compared with her own. John Oxon had moved her, bringing to her her +first knowledge of buoyant, ardent youth, and blooming strength and +beauty; for Dunstanwolde she had felt gratitude and affection; but +than these there had been no others who even distantly had touched +her heart. + +The night she had given her promise to Dunstanwolde, and had made +her obeisance before his kinsman as she had met his deep and leonine +eye, she had known that 'twas the only man's eye before which her +own would fall and which held the power to rule her very soul. + +She did not think this as a romantic girl would have thought it; it +was revealed to her by a sudden tempestuous leap of her heart, and +by a shock like terror. Here was the man who was of her own build, +whose thews and sinews of mind and body was as powerful as her own-- +here was he who, had she met him one short year before, would have +revolutionised her world. + +In the days of her wifehood when she had read in his noble face +something of that which he endeavoured to command and which to no +other was apparent, the dignity of his self-restraint had but filled +her with tenderness more passionate and grateful. + +"Had he been a villain and a coward," was her thought, "he would +have made my life a bitter battle; but 'tis me he loves, not himself +only, and as I honour him so does he honour me." + +Now she beheld the same passion in his eyes, but no more held in +leash: his look met hers, hiding from her nothing of what his high +soul burned with; and she was free--free to answer when he spoke, +and only feeling one bitterness in her heart--if he had but come in +time--God! why had he not been sent in time? + +But, late or early, he had come; and what they had to give each +other should not be mocked at and lost. The night she had ended by +going to Anne's chamber, she had paced her room saying this again +and again, all the strength of her being rising in revolt. She had +been then a caged tigress of a verity; she had wrung her hands; she +had held her palm hard against her leaping heart; she had walked +madly to and fro, battling in thought with what seemed awful fate; +she had flung herself upon her knees and wept bitter scalding tears. + +"He is so noble," she had cried--"he is so noble--and I so worship +his nobleness--and I have been so base!" + +And in her suffering her woman's nerves had for a moment betrayed +her. Heretofore she had known no weakness of her sex, but the woman +soul in her so being moved, she had been broken and conquered for a +space, and had gone to Anne's chamber, scarcely knowing what refuge +she so sought. It had been a feminine act, and she had realised all +it signified when Anne sank weeping by her. Women who wept and +prated together at midnight in their chambers ended by telling their +secrets. So it was that it fell out that Anne saw not again the +changed face to the sight of which she had that night awakened. It +seemed as if my lady from that time made plans which should never +for a moment leave her alone. The next day she was busied arranging +a brilliant rout, the next a rich banquet, the next a great +assembly; she drove in the Mall in her stateliest equipages; she +walked upon its promenade, surrounded by her crowd of courtiers, +smiling upon them, and answering them with shafts of graceful wit-- +the charm of her gaiety had never been so remarked upon, her air +never so enchanting. At every notable gathering in the World of +Fashion she was to be seen. Being bidden to the Court, which was at +Hampton, her brilliant beauty and spirit so enlivened the royal +dulness that 'twas said the Queen herself was scarce resigned to +part with her, and that the ladies and gentlemen in waiting all +suffered from the spleen when she withdrew. She bought at this time +the fiercest but most beautiful beast of a horse she had ever +mounted. The creature was superbly handsome, but apparently so +unconquerable and so savage that her grooms were afraid to approach +it, and indeed it could not be saddled and bitted unless she herself +stood near. Even the horse-dealer, rogue though he was, had sold it +to her with some approach to a qualm of conscience, having confessed +to her that it had killed two grooms, and been sentenced to be shot +by its first owner, and was still living only because its great +beauty had led him to hesitate for a few days. It was by chance +that during these few days Lady Dunstanwolde heard of it, and going +to see it, desired and bought it at once. + +"It is the very beast I want," she said, with a gleam in her eye. +"It will please me to teach it that there is one stronger than +itself." + +She had much use for her loaded riding-whip; and indeed, not finding +it heavy enough, ordered one made which was heavier. When she rode +the beast in Hyde Park, her first battles with him were the town +talk; and there were those who bribed her footmen to inform them +beforehand, when my lady was to take out Devil, that they might know +in time to be in the Park to see her. Fops and hunting-men laid +wagers as to whether her ladyship would kill the horse or be killed +by him, and followed her training of the creature with an excitement +and delight quite wild. + +"Well may the beast's name be Devil," said more than one looker-on; +"for he is not so much horse as demon. And when he plunges and +rears and shows his teeth, there is a look in his eye which flames +like her own, and 'tis as if a male and female demon fought +together, for surely such a woman never lived before. She will not +let him conquer her, God knows; and it would seem that he was +swearing in horse fashion that she should not conquer him." + +When he was first bought and brought home, Mistress Anne turned ashy +at the sight of him, and in her heart of hearts grieved bitterly +that it had so fallen out that his Grace of Osmonde had been called +away from town by high and important matters; for she knew full +well, that if he had been in the neighbourhood, he would have said +some discreet and tender word of warning to which her ladyship would +have listened, though she would have treated with disdain the +caution of any other man or woman. When she herself ventured to +speak, Clorinda looked only stern. + +"I have ridden only ill-tempered beasts all my life, and that for +the mere pleasure of subduing them," she said. "I have no liking +for a horse like a bell-wether; and if this one should break my +neck, I need battle with neither men nor horses again, and I shall +die at the high tide of life and power; and those who think of me +afterwards will only remember that they loved me--that they loved +me." + +But the horse did not kill her, nor she it. Day after day she stood +by while it was taken from its stall, many a time dealing with it +herself, because no groom dare approach; and then she would ride it +forth, and in Hyde Park force it to obey her; the wondrous strength +of her will, her wrist of steel, and the fierce, pitiless punishment +she inflicted, actually daunting the devilish creature's courage. +She would ride from the encounter, through two lines of people who +had been watching her--and some of them found themselves following +after her, even to the Park gate--almost awed as they looked at her, +sitting erect and splendid on the fretted, anguished beast, whose +shining skin was covered with lather, whose mouth tossed blood- +flecked foam, and whose great eye was so strangely like her own, but +that hers glowed with the light of triumph, and his burned with the +agonised protest of the vanquished. At such times there was +somewhat of fear in the glances that followed her beauty, which +almost seemed to blaze--her colour was so rich, the curve of her red +mouth so imperial, the poise of her head, with its loosening coils +of velvet black hair, so high. + +"It is good for me that I do this," she said to Anne, with a short +laugh, one day. "I was growing too soft--and I have need now for +all my power. To fight with the demon in this beast, rouses all in +me that I have held in check since I became my poor lord's wife. +That the creature should have set his will against all others, and +should resist me with such strength and devilishness, rouses in me +the passion of the days when I cursed and raved and struck at those +who angered me. 'Tis fury that possesses me, and I could curse and +shriek at him as I flog him, if 'twould be seemly. As it would not +be so, I shut my teeth hard, and shriek and curse within them, and +none can hear." + +Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went +forth on Devil that they might stand near and behold her, there was +one man ever present, and 'twas Sir John Oxon. He would stand as +near as might be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his eye, +and a look as if the outcome of the fray had deadly meaning to him. +He would gnaw his lip until at times the blood started; his face +would by turns flush scarlet and turn deadly pale; he would move +suddenly and restlessly, and break forth under breath into oaths of +exclamation. One day a man close by him saw him suddenly lay his +hand upon his sword, and having so done, still keep it there, though +'twas plain he quickly remembered where he was. + +As for the horse's rider, my Lady Dunstanwolde, whose way it had +been to avoid this man and to thrust him from her path by whatsoever +adroit means she could use, on these occasions made no effort to +evade him and his glances; in sooth, he knew, though none other did +so, that when she fought with her horse she did it with a fierce joy +in that he beheld her. 'Twas as though the battle was between +themselves; and knowing this in the depths of such soul as he +possessed, there were times when the man would have exulted to see +the brute rise and fall upon her, crushing her out of life, or dash +her to the earth and set his hoof upon her dazzling upturned face. +Her scorn and deadly defiance of him, her beauty and maddening +charm, which seemed but to increase with every hour that flew by, +had roused his love to fury. Despite his youth, he was a villain, +as he had ever been; even in his first freshness there had been +older men--and hardened ones--who had wondered at the selfish +mercilessness and blackness of the heart that was but that of a boy. +They had said among themselves that at his years they had never +known a creature who could be so gaily a dastard, one who could plan +with such light remorselessness, and using all the gifts given him +by Nature solely for his own ends, would take so much and give so +little. In truth, as time had gone on, men who had been his +companions, and had indeed small consciences to boast of, had begun +to draw off a little from him, and frequent his company less. He +chose to tell himself that this was because he had squandered his +fortune and was less good company, being pursued by creditors and +haunted by debts; but though there was somewhat in this, perchance +'twas not the entire truth. + +"By Gad!" said one over his cups, "there are things even a rake-hell +fellow like me cannot do; but he does them, and seems not to know +that they are to his discredit." + +There had been a time when without this woman's beauty he might have +lived--indeed, he had left it of his own free vicious will; but in +these days, when his fortunes had changed and she represented all +that he stood most desperately in need of, her beauty drove him mad. +In his haunting of her, as he followed her from place to place, his +passion grew day by day, and all the more gained strength and +fierceness because it was so mixed with hate. He tossed upon his +bed at night and cursed her; he remembered the wild past, and the +memory all but drove him to delirium. He knew of what stern stuff +she was made, and that even if her love had died, she would have +held to her compact like grim death, even while loathing him. And +he had cast all this aside in one mad moment of boyish cupidity and +folly; and now that she was so radiant and entrancing a thing, and +wealth, and splendour, and rank, and luxury lay in the hollow of her +hand, she fixed her beauteous devil's eyes upon him with a scorn in +their black depths which seemed to burn like fires of hell. + +The great brute who dashed, and plunged, and pranced beneath her +seemed to have sworn to conquer her as he had sworn himself; but let +him plunge and kick as he would, there was no quailing in her eye, +she sat like a creature who was superhuman, and her hand was iron, +her wrist was steel. She held him so that he could not do his worst +without such pain as would drive him mad; she lashed him, and rained +on him such blows as almost made him blind. Once at the very worst, +Devil dancing near him, she looked down from his back into John +Oxon's face, and he cursed aloud, her eye so told him his own story +and hers. In those days their souls met in such combat as it seemed +must end in murder itself. + +"You will not conquer him," he said to her one morning, forcing +himself near enough to speak. + +"I will, unless he kills me," she answered, "and that methinks he +will find it hard to do." + +"He will kill you," he said. "I would, were I in his four shoes." + +"You would if you could," were her words; "but you could not with +his bit in your mouth and my hand on the snaffle. And if he killed +me, still 'twould be he, not I, was beaten; since he could only kill +what any bloody villain could with any knife. He is a brute beast, +and I am that which was given dominion over such. Look on till I +have done with him." + +And thus, with other beholders, though in a different mood from +theirs, he did, until a day when even the most sceptical saw that +the brute came to the fray with less of courage, as if there had at +last come into his brain the dawning of a fear of that which rid +him, and all his madness could not displace from its throne upon his +back. + +"By God!" cried more than one of the bystanders, seeing this, +despite the animal's fury, "the beast gives way! He gives way! She +has him!" And John Oxon, shutting his teeth, cut short an oath and +turned pale as death. + +From that moment her victory was a thing assured. The duel of +strength became less desperate, and having once begun to learn his +lesson, the brute was made to learn it well. His bearing was a +thing superb to behold; once taught obedience, there would scarce be +a horse like him in the whole of England. And day by day this he +learned from her, and being mastered, was put through his paces, and +led to answer to the rein, so that he trotted, cantered, galloped, +and leaped as a bird flies. Then as the town had come to see him +fight for freedom, it came to see him adorn the victory of the being +who had conquered him, and over their dishes of tea in the afternoon +beaux and beauties of fashion gossiped of the interesting and +exciting event; and there were vapourish ladies who vowed they could +not have beaten a brute so, and that surely my Lady Dunstanwolde +must have looked hot and blowzy while she did it, and have had the +air of a great rough man; and there were some pretty tiffs and even +quarrels when the men swore that never had she looked so magnificent +a beauty and so inflamed the hearts of all beholding her. + +On the first day after her ladyship's last battle with her horse, +the one which ended in such victory to her that she rode him home +hard through the streets without an outbreak, he white with lather, +and marked with stripes, but his large eye holding in its velvet a +look which seemed almost like a human thought--on that day after +there occurred a thing which gave the town new matter to talk of. + +His Grace of Osmonde had been in France, called there by business of +the State, and during his absence the gossip concerning the horse +Devil had taken the place of that which had before touched on +himself. 'Twas not announced that he was to return to England, and +indeed there were those who, speaking with authority, said that for +two weeks at least his affairs abroad would not be brought to a +close; and yet on this morning, as my Lady Dunstanwolde rode 'neath +the trees, holding Devil well in hand, and watching him with eagle +keenness of eye, many looking on in wait for the moment when the +brute might break forth suddenly again, a horseman was seen +approaching at a pace so rapid that 'twas on the verge of a gallop, +and the first man who beheld him looked amazed and lifted his hat, +and the next, seeing him, spoke to another, who bowed with him, and +all along the line of loungers hats were removed, and people wore +the air of seeing a man unexpectedly, and hearing a name spoken in +exclamation by his side, Sir John Oxon looked round and beheld ride +by my lord Duke of Osmonde. The sun was shining brilliantly, and +all the Park was gay with bright warmth and greenness of turf and +trees. Clorinda felt the glow of the summer morning permeate her +being. She kept her watch upon her beast; but he was going well, +and in her soul she knew that he was beaten, and that her victory +had been beheld by the one man who knew that it meant to her that +which it seemed to mean also to himself. And filled with this +thought and the joy of it, she rode beneath the trees, and so was +riding with splendid spirit when she heard a horse behind her, and +looked up as it drew near, and the rich crimson swept over her in a +sweet flood, so that it seemed to her she felt it warm on her very +shoulders, 'neath her habit, for 'twas Osmonde's self who had +followed and reached her, and uncovered, keeping pace by her side. + +Ah, what a face he had, and how his eyes burned as they rested on +her. It was such a look she met, that for a moment she could not +find speech, and he himself spoke as a man who, through some deep +emotion, has almost lost his breath. + +"My Lady Dunstanwolde," he began; and then with a sudden passion, +"Clorinda, my beloved!" The time had come when he could not keep +silence, and with great leapings of her heart she knew. Yet not one +word said she, for she could not; but her beauty, glowing and +quivering under his eyes' great fire, answered enough. + +"Were it not that I fear for your sake the beast you ride," he said, +"I would lay my hand upon his bridle, that I might crush your hand +in mine. At post-haste I have come from France, hearing this thing- +-that you endangered every day that which I love so madly. My God! +beloved, cruel, cruel woman--sure you must know!" + +She answered with a breathless wild surrender. "Yes, yes!" she +gasped, "I know." + +"And yet you braved this danger, knowing that you might leave me a +widowed man for life." + +"But," she said, with a smile whose melting radiance seemed akin to +tears--"but see how I have beaten him--and all is passed." + +"Yes, yes," he said, "as you have conquered all--as you have +conquered me--and did from the first hour. But God forbid that you +should make me suffer so again." + +"Your Grace," she said, faltering, "I--I will not!" + +"Forgive me for the tempest of my passion," he said. "'Twas not +thus I had thought to come to make my suit. 'Tis scarcely fitting +that it should be so; but I was almost mad when I first heard this +rumour, knowing my duty would not loose me to come to you at once-- +and knowing you so well, that only if your heart had melted to the +one who besought you, you would give up." + +"I--give up," she answered; "I give up." + +"I worship you," he said; "I worship you." And their meeting eyes +were drowned in each other's tenderness. + +They galloped side by side, and the watchers looked on, exchanging +words and glances, seeing in her beauteous, glowing face, in his +joyous one, the final answer to the question they had so often asked +each other. 'Twas his Grace of Osmonde who was the happy man, he +and no other. That was a thing plain indeed to be seen, for they +were too high above the common world to feel that they must play the +paltry part of outward trifling to deceive it; and as the sun +pierces through clouds and is stronger than they, so their love +shone like the light of day itself through poor conventions. They +did not know the people gazed and whispered, and if they had known +it, the thing would have counted for naught with them. + +"See!" said my lady, patting her Devil's neck--"see, he knows that +you have come, and frets no more." + +They rode homeward together, the great beauty and the great duke, +and all the town beheld; and after they had passed him where he +stood, John Oxon mounted his own horse and galloped away, white- +lipped and with mad eyes. + +"Let me escort you home," the duke had said, "that I may kneel to +you there, and pour forth my heart as I have so dreamed of doing. +Tomorrow I must go back to France, because I left my errand +incomplete. I stole from duty the time to come to you, and I must +return as quickly as I came." So he took her home; and as they +entered the wide hall together, side by side, the attendant lacqueys +bowed to the ground in deep, welcoming obeisance, knowing it was +their future lord and master they received. + +Together they went to her own sitting-room, called the Panelled +Parlour, a beautiful great room hung with rare pictures, warm with +floods of the bright summer sunshine, and perfumed with bowls of +summer flowers; and as the lacquey departed, bowing, and closed the +door behind him, they turned and were enfolded close in each other's +arms, and stood so, with their hearts beating as surely it seemed to +them human hearts had never beat before. + +"Oh! my dear love, my heavenly love!" he cried. "It has been so +long--I have lived in prison and in fetters--and it has been so +long!" + +Even as my Lord Dunstanwolde had found cause to wonder at her gentle +ways, so was this man amazed at her great sweetness, now that he +might cross the threshold of her heart. She gave of herself as an +empress might give of her store of imperial jewels, with sumptuous +lavishness, knowing that the store could not fail. In truth, it +seemed that it must be a dream that she so stood before him in all +her great, rich loveliness, leaning against his heaving breast, her +arms as tender as his own, her regal head thrown backward that they +might gaze into the depths of each other's eyes. + +"From that first hour that I looked up at you," she said, "I knew +you were my lord--my lord! And a fierce pain stabbed my heart, +knowing you had come too late by but one hour; for had it not been +that Dunstanwolde had led me to you, I knew--ah! how well I knew-- +that our hearts would have beaten together not as two hearts but as +one." + +"As they do now," he cried. + +"As they do now," she answered--"as they do now!" + +"And from the moment that your rose fell at my feet and I raised it +in my hand," he said, "I knew I held some rapture which was my own. +And when you stood before me at Dunstanwolde's side and our eyes +met, I could not understand--nay, I could scarce believe that it had +been taken from me." + +There, in her arms, among the flowers and in the sweetness of the +sun, he lived again the past, telling her of the days when, knowing +his danger, he had held himself aloof, declining to come to her +lord's house with the familiarity of a kinsman, because the pang of +seeing her often was too great to bear; and relating to her also the +story of the hours when he had watched her and she had not known his +nearness or guessed his pain, when she had passed in her equipage, +not seeing him, or giving him but a gracious smile. He had walked +outside her window at midnight sometimes, too, coming because he was +a despairing man, and could not sleep, and returning homeward, +having found no rest, but only increase of anguish. "Sometimes," he +said, "I dared not look into your eyes, fearing my own would betray +me; but now I can gaze into your soul itself, for the midnight is +over--and joy cometh with the morning." + +As he had spoken, he had caressed softly with his hand her cheek and +her crown of hair, and such was his great gentleness that 'twas as +if he touched lovingly a child; for into her face there had come +that look which it would seem that in the arms of the man she loves +every true woman wears--a look which is somehow like a child's in +its trusting, sweet surrender and appeal, whatsoever may be her +stateliness and the splendour of her beauty. + +Yet as he touched her cheek so and her eyes so dwelt on him, +suddenly her head fell heavily upon his breast, hiding her face, +even while her unwreathing arms held more closely. + +"Oh! those mad days before!" she cried--"Oh! those mad, mad days +before!" + +"Nay, they are long passed, sweet," he said, in his deep, noble +voice, thinking that she spoke of the wildness of her girlish years- +-"and all our days of joy are yet to come." + +"Yes, yes," she cried, clinging closer, yet with shuddering, "they +were BEFORE--the joy--the joy is all to come." + + + +CHAPTER XV--In which Sir John Oxon finds again a trophy he had lost + + + +His Grace of Osmonde went back to France to complete his business, +and all the world knew that when he returned to England 'twould be +to make his preparations for his marriage with my Lady Dunstanwolde. +It was a marriage not long to be postponed, and her ladyship herself +was known already to be engaged with lacemen, linen-drapers, toyshop +women, and goldsmiths. Mercers awaited upon her at her house, +accompanied by their attendants, bearing burdens of brocades and +silks, and splendid stuffs of all sorts. Her chariot was to be seen +standing before their shops, and the interest in her purchases was +so great that fashionable beauties would contrive to visit the +counters at the same hours as herself, so that they might catch +glimpses of what she chose. In her own great house all was +repressed excitement; her women were enraptured at being allowed the +mere handling and laying away of the glories of her wardrobe; the +lacqueys held themselves with greater state, knowing that they were +soon to be a duke's servants; her little black Nero strutted about, +his turban set upon his pate with a majestic cock, and disdained to +enter into battle with such pages of his own colour as wore only +silver collars, he feeling assured that his own would soon be of +gold. + +The World of Fashion said when her ladyship's equipage drove by, +that her beauty was like that of the god of day at morning, and that +'twas plain that no man or woman had ever beheld her as his Grace of +Osmonde would. + +"She loves at last," a wit said. "Until the time that such a woman +loves, however great her splendour, she is as the sun behind a +cloud." + +"And now this one hath come forth, and shines so that she warms us +in mere passing," said another. "What eyes, and what a mouth, with +that strange smile upon it. Whoever saw such before? and when she +came to town with my Lord Dunstanwolde, who, beholding her, would +have believed that she could wear such a look?" + +In sooth, there was that in her face and in her voice when she spoke +which almost made Anne weep, through its strange sweetness and +radiance. 'Twas as if the flood of her joy had swept away all +hardness and disdain. Her eyes, which had seemed to mock at all +they rested on, mocked no more, but ever seemed to smile at some +dear inward thought. + +One night when she went forth to a Court ball, being all attired in +brocade of white and silver, and glittering with the Dunstanwolde +diamonds, which starred her as with great sparkling dewdrops, and +yet had not the radiance of her eyes and smile, she was so purely +wonderful a vision that Anne, who had been watching her through all +the time when she had been under the hands of her tirewoman, and +beholding her now so dazzling and white a shining creature, fell +upon her knees to kiss her hand almost as one who worships. + +"Oh, sister," she said, "you look like a spirit. It is as if with +the earth you had naught to do--as if your eyes saw Heaven itself +and Him who reigns there." + +The lovely orbs of Clorinda shone more still like the great star of +morning. + +"Sister Anne," she said, laying her hand on her white breast, "at +times I think that I must almost be a spirit, I feel such heavenly +joy. It is as if He whom you believe in, and who can forgive and +wipe out sins, has forgiven me, and has granted it to me, that I may +begin my poor life again. Ah! I will make it better; I will try to +make it as near an angel's life as a woman can; and I will do no +wrong, but only good; and I will believe, and pray every day upon my +knees--and all my prayers will be that I may so live that my dear +lord--my Gerald--could forgive me all that I have ever done--and +seeing my soul, would know me worthy of him. Oh! we are strange +things, we human creatures, Anne," with a tremulous smile; "we do +not believe until we want a thing, and feel that we shall die if +'tis not granted to us; and then we kneel and kneel and believe, +because we MUST have somewhat to ask help from." + +"But all help has been given to you," poor tender Anne said, kissing +her hand again; "and I will pray, I will pray--" + +"Ay, pray, Anne, pray with all thy soul," Clorinda answered; "I need +thy praying--and thou didst believe always, and have asked so little +that has been given thee." + +"Thou wast given me, sister," said Anne. "Thou hast given me a home +and kindness such as I never dared to hope; thou hast been like a +great star to me--I have had none other, and I thank Heaven on my +knees each night for the brightness my star has shed on me." + +"Poor Anne, dear Anne!" Clorinda said, laying her arms about her and +kissing her. "Pray for thy star, good, tender Anne, that its light +may not be quenched." Then with a sudden movement her hand was +pressed upon her bosom again. "Ah, Anne," she cried, and in the +music of her voice, agony itself was ringing--"Anne, there is but +one thing on this earth God rules over--but one thing that belongs-- +BELONGS to me; and 'tis Gerald Mertoun--and he is mine and SHALL not +be taken from me, for he is a part of me, and I a part of him!" + +"He will not be," said Anne--"he will not." + +"He cannot," Clorinda answered--"he shall not! 'Twould not be +human." + +She drew a long breath and was calm again. + +"Did it reach your ears," she said, reclasping a band of jewels on +her arm, "that John Oxon had been offered a place in a foreign +Court, and that 'twas said he would soon leave England?" + +"I heard some rumour of it," Anne answered, her emotion getting the +better of her usual discreet speech. "God grant it may be true!" + +"Ay!" said Clorinda, "would God that he were gone!" + +But that he was not, for when she entered the assembly that night he +was standing near the door as though he lay in waiting for her, and +his eyes met hers with a leaping gleam, which was a thing of such +exultation that to encounter it was like having a knife thrust deep +into her side and through and through it, for she knew full well +that he could not wear such a look unless he had some strength of +which she knew not. + +This gleam was in his eyes each time she found herself drawn to +them, and it seemed as though she could look nowhere without +encountering his gaze. He followed her from room to room, placing +himself where she could not lift her eyes without beholding him; +when she walked a minuet with a royal duke, he stood and watched her +with such a look in his face as drew all eyes towards him. + +"'Tis as if he threatens her," one said. "He has gone mad with +disappointed love." + +But 'twas not love that was in his look, but the madness of long- +thwarted passion mixed with hate and mockery; and this she saw, and +girded her soul with all its strength, knowing that she had a +fiercer beast to deal with, and a more vicious and dangerous one, +than her horse Devil. That he kept at first at a distance from her, +and but looked on with this secret exultant glow in his bad, +beauteous eyes, told her that at last he felt he held some power in +his hands, against which all her defiance would be as naught. Till +this hour, though she had suffered, and when alone had writhed in +agony of grief and bitter shame, in his presence she had never +flinched. Her strength she knew was greater than his; but his +baseness was his weapon, and the depths of that baseness she knew +she had never reached. + +At midnight, having just made obeisance before Royalty retiring, she +felt that at length he had drawn near and was standing at her side. + +"To-night," he said, in the low undertone it was his way to keep for +such occasions, knowing how he could pierce her ear--"to-night you +are Juno's self--a very Queen of Heaven!" + +She made no answer. + +"And I have stood and watched you moving among all lesser goddesses +as the moon sails among the stars, and I have smiled in thinking of +what these lesser deities would say if they had known what I bear in +my breast to-night." + +She did not even make a movement--in truth, she felt that at his +next words she might change to stone. + +"I have found it," he said--"I have it here--the lost treasure--the +tress of hair like a raven's wing and six feet long. Is there +another woman in England who could give a man a lock like it?" + +She felt then that she had, in sooth, changed to stone; her heart +hung without moving in her breast; her eyes felt great and hollow +and staring as she lifted them to him. + +"I knew not," she said slowly, and with bated breath, for the +awfulness of the moment had even made her body weak as she had never +known it feel before--"I knew not truly that hell made things like +you." + +Whereupon he made a movement forward, and the crowd about surged +nearer with hasty exclamations, for the strange weakness of her body +had overpowered her in a way mysterious to her, and she had changed +to marble, growing too heavy of weight for her sinking limbs. And +those in the surrounding groups saw a marvellous thing--the same +being that my Lady Dunstanwolde swayed as she turned, and falling, +lay stretched, as if dead, in her white and silver and flashing +jewels at the startled beholders' feet. + +* * * + +She wore no radiant look when she went home that night. She would +go home alone and unescorted, excepting by her lacqueys, refusing +all offers of companionship when once placed in her equipage. There +were, of course, gentlemen who would not be denied leading her to +her coach; John Oxon was among them, and at the last pressed close, +with a manner of great ceremony, speaking a final word. + +"'Tis useless, your ladyship," he murmured, as he made his obeisance +gallantly, and though the words were uttered in his lowest tone and +with great softness, they reached her ear as he intended that they +should. "To-morrow morning I shall wait upon you." + +Anne had forborne going to bed, and waited for her return, longing +to see her spirit's face again before she slept; for this poor +tender creature, being denied all woman's loves and joys by Fate, +who had made her as she was, so lived in her sister's beauty and +triumphs that 'twas as if in some far-off way she shared them, and +herself experienced through them the joy of being a woman +transcendently beautiful and transcendently beloved. To-night she +had spent her waiting hours in her closet and upon her knees, +praying with all humble adoration of the Being she approached. She +was wont to pray long and fervently each day, thanking Heaven for +the smallest things and the most common, and imploring continuance +of the mercy which bestowed them upon her poor unworthiness. For +her sister her prayers were offered up night and morning, and +ofttimes in hours between, and to-night she prayed not for herself +at all, but for Clorinda and for his Grace of Osmonde, that their +love might be crowned with happiness, and that no shadow might +intervene to cloud its brightness, and the tender rapture in her +sister's softened look, which was to her a thing so wonderful that +she thought of it with reverence as a holy thing. + +Her prayers being at length ended, she had risen from her knees and +sat down, taking a sacred book to read, a book of sermons such as +'twas her simple habit to pore over with entire respect and child- +like faith, and being in the midst of her favourite homily, she +heard the chariot's returning wheels, and left her chair, surprised, +because she had not yet begun to expect the sound. + +"'Tis my sister," she said, with a soft, sentimental smile. +"Osmonde not being among the guests, she hath no pleasure in +mingling with them." + +She went below to the room her ladyship usually went to first on her +return at night from any gathering, and there she found her sitting +as though she had dropped there in the corner of a great divan, her +hands hanging clasped before her on her knee, her head hanging +forward on her fallen chest, her large eyes staring into space. + +"Clorinda! Clorinda!" Anne cried, running to her and kneeling at +her side. "Clorinda! God have mercy! What is't?" + +Never before had her face worn such a look--'twas colourless, and so +drawn and fallen in that 'twas indeed almost as if all her great +beauty was gone; but the thing most awful to poor Anne was that all +the new softness seemed as if it had been stamped out, and the +fierce hardness had come back and was engraven in its place, mingled +with a horrible despair. + +"An hour ago," she said, "I swooned. That is why I look thus. 'Tis +yet another sign that I am a woman--a woman!" + +"You are ill--you swooned?" cried Anne. "I must send for your +physician. Have you not ordered that he be sent for yourself? If +Osmonde were here, how perturbed he would be!" + +"Osmonde!" said my lady. "Gerald! Is there a Gerald, Anne?" + +"Sister!" cried Anne, affrighted by her strange look--"oh, sister!" + +"I have seen heaven," Clorinda said; "I have stood on the threshold +and seen through the part-opened gate--and then have been dragged +back to hell." + +Anne clung to her, gazing upwards at her eyes, in sheer despair. + +"But back to hell I will not go," she went on saying. "Had I not +seen Heaven, they might perhaps have dragged me; but now I will not +go--I will not, that I swear! There is a thing which cannot be +endured. Bear it no woman should. Even I, who was not born a +woman, but a wolf's she-cub, I cannot. 'Twas not I, 'twas Fate," +she said--"'twas not I, 'twas Fate--'twas the great wheel we are +bound to, which goes round and round that we may be broken on it. +'Twas not I who bound myself there; and I will not be broken so." + +She said the words through her clenched teeth, and with all the mad +passion of her most lawless years; even at Anne she looked almost in +the old ungentle fashion, as though half scorning all weaker than +herself, and having small patience with them. + +"There will be a way," she said--"there will be a way. I shall not +swoon again." + +She left her divan and stood upright, the colour having come back to +her face; but the look Anne worshipped not having returned with it, +'twas as though Mistress Clorinda Wildairs had been born again. + +"To-morrow morning I go forth on Devil," she said; "and I shall be +abroad if any visitors come." + +What passed in her chamber that night no human being knew. Anne, +who left her own apartment and crept into a chamber near hers to lie +and watch, knew that she paced to and fro, but heard no other sound, +and dared not intrude upon her. + +When she came forth in the morning she wore the high look she had +been wont to wear in the years gone by, when she ruled in her +father's house, and rode to the hunt with a following of gay middle- +aged and elderly rioters. Her eye was brilliant, and her colour +matched it. She held her head with the old dauntless carriage, and +there was that in her voice before which her women quaked, and her +lacqueys hurried to do her bidding. + +Devil himself felt this same thing in the touch of her hand upon his +bridle when she mounted him at the door, and seemed to glance +askance at her sideways. + +She took no servant with her, and did not ride to the Park, but to +the country. Once on the highroad, she rode fast and hard, only +galloping straight before her as the way led, and having no +intention. Where she was going she knew not; but why she rode on +horseback she knew full well, it being because the wild, almost +fierce motion was in keeping with the tempest in her soul. Thoughts +rushed through her brain even as she rushed through the air on +Devil's back, and each leaping after the other, seemed to tear more +madly. + +"What shall I do?" she was saying to herself. "What thing is there +for me to do? I am trapped like a hunted beast, and there is no way +forth." + +The blood went like a torrent through her veins, so that she seemed +to hear it roaring in her ears; her heart thundered in her side, or +'twas so she thought of it as it bounded, while she recalled the +past and looked upon the present. + +"What else could have been?" she groaned. "Naught else--naught +else. 'Twas a trick--a trick of Fate to ruin me for my punishment." + +When she had gone forth it had been with no hope in her breast that +her wit might devise a way to free herself from the thing which so +beset her, for she had no weak fancies that there dwelt in this base +soul any germ of honour which might lead it to relenting. As she +had sat in her dark room at night, crouched upon the floor, and +clenching her hands, as the mad thoughts went whirling through her +brain, she had stared her Fate in the face and known all its +awfulness. Before her lay the rapture of a great, sweet, honourable +passion, a high and noble life lived in such bliss as rarely fell to +lot of woman--on this one man she knew that she could lavish all the +splendour of her nature, and make his life a heaven, as hers would +be. Behind her lay the mad, uncared-for years, and one black memory +blighting all to come, though 'twould have been but a black memory +with no power to blight if the heaven of love had not so opened to +her and with its light cast all else into shadow. + +"If 'twere not love," she cried--"if 'twere but ambition, I could +defy it to the last; but 'tis love--love--love, and it will kill me +to forego it." + +Even as she moaned the words she heard hoof beats near her, and a +horseman leaped the hedge and was at her side. She set her teeth, +and turning, stared into John Oxon's face. + +"Did you think I would not follow you?" he asked. + +"No," she answered. + +"I have followed you at a distance hitherto," he said; "now I shall +follow close." + +She did not speak, but galloped on. + +"Think you you can outride me?" he said grimly, quickening his +steed's pace. "I go with your ladyship to your own house. For fear +of scandal you have not openly rebuffed me previous to this time; +for a like reason you will not order your lacqueys to shut your door +when I enter it with you." + +My Lady Dunstanwolde turned to gaze at him again. The sun shone on +his bright falling locks and his blue eyes as she had seen it shine +in days which seemed so strangely long passed by, though they were +not five years agone. + +"'Tis strange," she said, with a measure of wonder, "to live and be +so black a devil." + +"Bah! my lady," he said, "these are fine words--and fine words do +not hold between us. Let us leave them. I would escort you home, +and speak to you in private." There was that in his mocking that +was madness to her, and made her sick and dizzy with the boiling of +the blood which surged to her brain. The fury of passion which had +been a terror to all about her when she had been a child was upon +her once more, and though she had thought herself freed from its +dominion, she knew it again and all it meant. She felt the +thundering beat in her side, the hot flood leaping to her cheek, the +flame burning her eyes themselves as if fire was within them. Had +he been other than he was, her face itself would have been a +warning. But he pressed her hard. As he would have slunk away a +beaten cur if she had held the victory in her hands, so feeling that +the power was his, he exulted over the despairing frenzy which was +in her look. + +"I pay back old scores," he said. "There are many to pay. When you +crowned yourself with roses and set your foot upon my face, your +ladyship thought not of this! When you gave yourself to +Dunstanwolde and spat at me, you did not dream that there could come +a time when I might goad as you did." + +She struck Devil with her whip, who leaped forward; but Sir John +followed hard behind her. He had a swift horse too, and urged him +fiercely, so that between these two there was a race as if for life +or death. The beasts bounded forward, spurning the earth beneath +their feet. My lady's face was set, her eyes were burning flame, +her breath came short and pantingly between her teeth. Oxon's fair +face was white with passion; he panted also, but strained every +nerve to keep at her side, and kept there. + +"Keep back! I warn thee!" she cried once, almost gasping. + +"Keep back!" he answered, blind with rage. "I will follow thee to +hell!" + +And in this wise they galloped over the white road until the hedges +disappeared and they were in the streets, and people turned to look +at them, and even stood and stared. Then she drew rein a little and +went slower, knowing with shuddering agony that the trap was closing +about her. + +"What is it that you would say to me?" she asked him breathlessly. + +"That which I would say within four walls that you may hear it all," +he answered. "This time 'tis not idle threatening. I have a thing +to show you." + +Through the streets they went, and as her horse's hoofs beat the +pavement, and the passers-by, looking towards her, gazed curiously +at so fine a lady on so splendid a brute, she lifted her eyes to the +houses, the booths, the faces, and the sky, with a strange fancy +that she looked about her as a man looks who, doomed to death, is +being drawn in his cart to Tyburn tree. For 'twas to death she +went, nor to naught else could she compare it, and she was so young +and strong, and full of love and life, and there should have been +such bliss and peace before her but for one madness of her all- +unknowing days. And this beside her--this man with the fair face +and looks and beauteous devil's eyes, was her hangman, and carried +his rope with him, and soon would fit it close about her neck. + +When they rode through the part of the town where abode the World of +Fashion, those who saw them knew them, and marvelled that the two +should be together. + +"But perhaps his love has made him sue for pardon that he has so +borne himself," some said, "and she has chosen to be gracious to +him, since she is gracious in these days to all." + +When they reached her house he dismounted with her, wearing an +outward air of courtesy; but his eye mocked her, as she knew. His +horse was in a lather of sweat, and he spoke to a servant. + +"Take my beast home," he said. "He is too hot to stand, and I shall +not soon be ready." + + + +CHAPTER XVI--Dealing with that which was done in the Panelled +Parlour + + + +He followed her to the Panelled Parlour, the one to which she had +taken Osmonde on the day of their bliss, the one in which in the +afternoon she received those who came to pay court to her over a +dish of tea. In the mornings none entered it but herself or some +invited guest. 'Twas not the room she would have chosen for him; +but when he said to her, "'Twere best your ladyship took me to some +private place," she had known there was no other so safe. + +When the door was closed behind them, and they stood face to face, +they were a strange pair to behold--she with mad defiance battling +with mad despair in her face; he with the mocking which every woman +who had ever trusted him or loved him had lived to see in his face +when all was lost. Few men there lived who were as vile as he, his +power of villainy lying in that he knew not the meaning of man's +shame or honour. + +"Now," she said, "tell me the worst." + +"'Tis not so bad," he answered, "that a man should claim his own, +and swear that no other man shall take it from him. That I have +sworn, and that I will hold to." + +"Your own!" she said--"your own you call it--villain!" + +"My own, since I can keep it," quoth he. "Before you were my Lord +of Dunstanwolde's you were mine--of your own free will." + +"Nay, nay," she cried. "God! through some madness I knew not the +awfulness of--because I was so young and had known naught but evil-- +and you were so base and wise." + +"Was your ladyship an innocent?" he answered. "It seemed not so to +me." + +"An innocent of all good," she cried--"of all things good on earth-- +of all that I know now, having seen manhood and honour." + +"His Grace of Osmonde has not been told this," he said; "and I +should make it all plain to him." + +"What do you ask, devil?" she broke forth. "What is't you ask?" + +"That you shall not be the Duchess of Osmonde," he said, drawing +near to her; "that you shall be the wife of Sir John Oxon, as you +once called yourself for a brief space, though no priest had mumbled +over us--" + +"Who was't divorced us?" she said, gasping; "for I was an honest +thing, though I knew no other virtue. Who was't divorced us?" + +"I confess," he answered, bowing, "that 'twas I--for the time being. +I was young, and perhaps fickle--" + +"And you left me," she cried, "and I found that you had come but for +a bet--and since I so bore myself that you could not boast, and +since I was not a rich woman whose fortune would be of use to you, +you followed another and left me--me!" + +"As his Grace of Osmonde will when I tell him my story," he +answered. "He is not one to brook that such things can be told of +the mother of his heirs." + +She would have shrieked aloud but that she clutched her throat in +time. + +"Tell him!" she cried, "tell him, and see if he will hear you. Your +word against mine!" + +"Think you I do not know that full well," he answered, and he +brought forth a little package folded in silk. "Why have I done +naught but threaten till this time? If I went to him without proof, +he would run me through with his sword as I were a mad dog. But is +there another woman in England from whose head her lover could +ravish a lock as long and black as this?" + +He unfolded the silk, and let other silk unfold itself, a great and +thick ring of raven hair which uncoiled its serpent length, and +though he held it high, was long enough after surging from his hand +to lie upon the floor. + +"Merciful God!" she cried, and shuddering, hid her face. + +"'Twas a bet, I own," he said; "I heard too much of the mad beauty +and her disdain of men not to be fired by a desire to prove to her +and others, that she was but a woman after all, and so was to be +won. I took an oath that I would come back some day with a trophy-- +and this I cut when you knew not that I did it." + +She clutched her throat again to keep from shrieking in her-- +impotent horror. + +"Devil, craven, and loathsome--and he knows not what he is!" she +gasped. "He is a mad thing who knows not that all his thoughts are +of hell." + +'Twas, in sooth, a strange and monstrous thing to see him so +unwavering and bold, flinching before no ignominy, shrinking not to +speak openly the thing before the mere accusation of which other +men's blood would have boiled. + +"When I bore it away with me," he said, "I lived wildly for a space, +and in those days put it in a place of safety, and when I was sober +again I had forgot where. Yesterday, by a strange chance, I came +upon it. Think you it can be mistaken for any other woman's hair?" + +At this she held up her hand. + +"Wait," she said. "You will go to Osmonde, you will tell him this, +you will--" + +"I will tell him all the story of the rose garden and of the sun- +dial, and the beauty who had wit enough to scorn a man in public +that she might more safely hold tryst with him alone. She had great +wit and cunning for a beauty of sixteen. 'Twould be well for her +lord to have keen eyes when she is twenty." + +He should have seen the warning in her eyes, for there was warning +enough in their flaming depths. + +"All that you can say I know," she said--"all that you can say! And +I love him. There is no other man on earth. Were he a beggar, I +would tramp the highroad by his side and go hungered with him. He +is my lord, and I his mate--his mate!" + +"That you will not be," he answered, made devilish by her words. +"He is a high and noble gentleman, and wants no man's cast-off +plaything for his wife." + +Her breast leaped up and down in her panting as she pressed her hand +upon it; her breath came in sharp puffs through her nostrils. + +"And once," she breathed--"and once--I LOVED thee--cur!" + +He was mad with exultant villainy and passion, and he broke into a +laugh. + +"Loved me!" he said. "Thou! As thou lovedst me--and as thou lovest +him--so will Moll Easy love any man--for a crown." + +Her whip lay upon the table, she caught and whirled it in the air. +She was blind with the surging of her blood, and saw not how she +caught or held it, or what she did--only that she struck! + +And 'twas his temple that the loaded weapon met, and 'twas wielded +by a wrist whose sinews were of steel, and even as it struck he +gasped, casting up his hands, and thereupon fell, and lay stretched +at her feet! + +But the awful tempest which swept over her had her so under its +dominion that she was like a branch whirled on the wings of the +storm. She scarce noted that he fell, or noting it, gave it not one +thought as she dashed from one end of the apartment to the other +with the fierce striding of a mad woman. + +"Devil!" she cried, "and cur! and for thee I blasted all the years +to come! To a beast so base I gave all that an empress' self could +give--all life--all love--for ever. And he comes back--shameless-- +to barter like a cheating huckster, because his trade goes ill, and +I--I could stock his counters once again." + +She strode towards him, raving. + +"Think you I do not know, woman's bully and poltroon, that you plot +to sell yourself, because your day has come, and no woman will bid +for such an outcast, saving one that you may threaten. Rise, +vermin--rise, lest I kill thee!" + +In her blind madness she lashed him once across the face again. And +he stirred not--and something in the resistless feeling of the flesh +beneath the whip, and in the quiet of his lying, caused her to pause +and stand panting and staring at the thing which lay before her. +For it was a Thing, and as she stood staring, with wild heaving +breast, this she saw. 'Twas but a thing--a thing lying inert, its +fair locks outspread, its eyes rolled upward till the blue was +almost lost; a purple indentation on the right temple from which +there oozed a tiny thread of blood. + +* * * + +"There will be a way," she had said, and yet in her most mad +despair, of this way she had never thought; though strange it had +been, considering her lawless past, that she had not--never of this +way--never! Notwithstanding which, in one frenzied moment in which +she had known naught but her delirium, her loaded whip had found it +for her--the way! + +And yet it being so found, and she stood staring, seeing what she +had done--seeing what had befallen--'twas as if the blow had been +struck not at her own temple but at her heart--a great and heavy +shock, which left her bloodless, and choked, and gasping. + +"What! what!" she panted. "Nay! nay! nay!" and her eyes grew wide +and wild. + +She sank upon her knees, so shuddering that her teeth began to +chatter. She pushed him and shook him by the shoulder. + +"Stir!" she cried in a loud whisper. "Move thee! Why dost thou lie +so? Stir!" + +Yet he stirred not, but lay inert, only with his lips drawn back, +showing his white teeth a little, as if her horrid agony made him +begin to laugh. Shuddering, she drew slowly nearer, her eyes more +awful than his own. Her hand crept shaking to his wrist and +clutched it. There was naught astir--naught! It stole to his +breast, and baring it, pressed close. That was still and moveless +as his pulse; for life was ended, and a hundred mouldering years +would not bring more of death. + +"I have KILLED thee," she breathed. "I have KILLED thee--though I +meant it not--even hell itself doth know. Thou art a dead man--and +this is the worst of all!" + +His hand fell heavily from hers, and she still knelt staring, such a +look coming into her face as throughout her life had never been +there before--for 'twas the look of a creature who, being tortured, +the worst at last being reached, begins to smile at Fate. + +"I have killed him!" she said, in a low, awful voice; "and he lies +here--and outside people walk, and know not. But HE knows--and I-- +and as he lies methinks he smiles--knowing what he has done!" + +She crouched even lower still, the closer to behold him, and indeed +it seemed his still face sneered as if defying her now to rid +herself of him! 'Twas as though he lay there mockingly content, +saying, "Now that I lie here, 'tis for YOU--for YOU to move me." + +She rose and stood up rigid, and all the muscles of her limbs were +drawn as though she were a creature stretched upon a rack; for the +horror of this which had befallen her seemed to fill the place about +her, and leave her no air to breathe nor light to see. + +"Now!" she cried, "if I would give way--and go mad, as I could but +do, for there is naught else left--if I would but give way, that +which is I--and has lived but a poor score of years--would be done +with for all time. All whirls before me. 'Twas I who struck the +blow--and I am a woman--and I could go raving--and cry out and call +them in, and point to him, and tell them how 'twas done--all!--all!" + +She choked, and clutched her bosom, holding its heaving down so +fiercely that her nails bruised it through her habit's cloth; for +she felt that she had begun to rave already, and that the waves of +such a tempest were arising as, if not quelled at their first swell, +would sweep her from her feet and engulf her for ever. + +"That--that!" she gasped--"nay--that I swear I will not do! There +was always One who hated me--and doomed and hunted me from the hour +I lay 'neath my dead mother's corpse, a new-born thing. I know not +whom it was--or why--or how--but 'twas so! I was made evil, and +cast helpless amid evil fates, and having done the things that were +ordained, and there was no escape from, I was shown noble manhood +and high honour, and taught to worship, as I worship now. An angel +might so love and be made higher. And at the gate of heaven a devil +grins at me and plucks me back, and taunts and mires me, and I fall- +-on THIS!" + +She stretched forth her arms in a great gesture, wherein it seemed +that surely she defied earth and heaven. + +"No hope--no mercy--naught but doom and hell," she cried, "unless +the thing that is tortured be the stronger. Now--unless Fate bray +me small--the stronger I will be!" + +She looked down at the thing before her. How its stone face +sneered, and even in its sneering seemed to disregard her. She +knelt by it again, her blood surging through her body, which had +been cold, speaking as if she would force her voice to pierce its +deadened ear. + +"Ay, mock!" she said, setting her teeth, "thinking that I am +conquered--yet am I not! 'Twas an honest blow struck by a creature +goaded past all thought! Ay, mock--and yet, but for one man's sake, +would I call in those outside and stand before them, crying: 'Here +is a villain whom I struck in madness--and he lies dead! I ask not +mercy, but only justice.'" + +She crouched still nearer, her breath and words coming hard and +quick. 'Twas indeed as if she spoke to a living man who heard--as +if she answered what he had said. + +"There would be men in England who would give it me," she raved, +whispering. "That would there, I swear! But there would be +dullards and dastards who would not. He would give it--he! Ay, +mock as thou wilt! But between his high honour and love and me thy +carrion SHALL not come!" + +By her great divan the dead man had fallen, and so near to it he lay +that one arm was hidden by the draperies; and at this moment this +she saw--before having seemed to see nothing but the death in his +face. A thought came to her like a flame lit on a sudden, and +springing high the instant the match struck the fuel it leaped from. +It was a thought so daring and so strange that even she gasped once, +being appalled, and her hands, stealing to her brow, clutched at the +hair that grew there, feeling it seem to rise and stand erect. + +"Is it madness to so dare?" she said hoarsely, and for an instant, +shuddering, hid her eyes, but then uncovered and showed them +burning. "Nay! not as I will dare it," she said, "for it will make +me steel. You fell well," she said to the stone-faced thing, "and +as you lie there, seem to tell me what to do, in your own despite. +You would not have so helped me had you known. Now 'tis 'twixt Fate +and I--a human thing--who is but a hunted woman." + +She put her strong hand forth and thrust him--he was already +stiffening--backward from the shoulder, there being no shrinking on +her face as she felt his flesh yield beneath her touch, for she had +passed the barrier lying between that which is mere life and that +which is pitiless hell, and could feel naught that was human. A +poor wild beast at bay, pressed on all sides by dogs, by huntsmen, +by resistless weapons, by Nature's pitiless self -glaring with +bloodshot eyes, panting, with fangs bared in the savagery of its +unfriended agony--might feel thus. 'Tis but a hunted beast; but +'tis alone, and faces so the terror and anguish of death. + +The thing gazing with its set sneer, and moving but stiffly, she put +forth another hand upon its side and thrust it farther backward +until it lay stretched beneath the great broad seat, its glazed and +open eyes seeming to stare upward blankly at the low roof of its +strange prison; she thrust it farther backward still, and letting +the draperies fall, steadily and with care so rearranged them that +all was safe and hid from sight. + +"Until to-night," she said, "You will lie well there. And then--and +then--" + +She picked up the long silken lock of hair which lay like a serpent +at her feet, and threw it into the fire, watching it burn, as all +hair burns, with slow hissing, and she watched it till 'twas gone. + +Then she stood with her hands pressed upon her eyeballs and her +brow, her thoughts moving in great leaps. Although it reeled, the +brain which had worked for her ever, worked clear and strong, +setting before her what was impending, arguing her case, showing her +where dangers would arise, how she must provide against them, what +she must defend and set at defiance. The power of will with which +she had been endowed at birth, and which had but grown stronger by +its exercise, was indeed to be compared to some great engine whose +lever 'tis not nature should be placed in human hands; but on that +lever her hand rested now, and to herself she vowed she would +control it, since only thus might she be saved. The torture she had +undergone for months, the warring of the evil past with the noble +present, of that which was sweet and passionately loving woman with +that which was all but devil, had strung her to a pitch so intense +and high that on the falling of this unnatural and unforeseen blow +she was left scarce a human thing. Looking back, she saw herself a +creature doomed from birth; and here in one moment seemed to stand a +force ranged in mad battle with the fate which had doomed her. + +"'Twas ordained that the blow should fall so," she said, "and those +who did it laugh--laugh at me." + +'Twas but a moment, and her sharp breathing became even and regular +as though at her command; her face composed itself, and she turned +to the bell and rang it as with imperious haste. + +When the lacquey entered, she was standing holding papers in her +hand as if she had but just been consulting them. + +"Follow Sir John Oxon," she commanded. "Tell him I have forgot an +important thing and beg him to return at once. Lose no time. He +has but just left me and can scarce be out of sight." + +The fellow saw there was no time to lose. They all feared that +imperial eye of hers and fled to obey its glances. Bowing, he +turned, and hastened to do her bidding, fearing to admit that he had +not seen the guest leave, because to do so would be to confess that +he had been absent from his post, which was indeed the truth. + +She knew he would come back shortly, and thus he did, entering +somewhat breathed by his haste. + +"My lady," he said, "I went quickly to the street, and indeed to the +corner of it, but Sir John was not within sight." + +"Fool, you were not swift enough!" she said angrily. "Wait, you +must go to his lodgings with a note. The matter is of importance." + +She went to a table--'twas close to the divan, so close that if she +had thrust forth her foot she could have touched what lay beneath +it--and wrote hastily a few lines. They were to request That which +was stiffening within three feet of her to return to her as quickly +as possible that she might make inquiries of an important nature +which she had forgotten at his departure. + +"Take this to Sir John's lodgings," she said. "Let there be no +loitering by the way. Deliver into his own hands, and bring back at +once his answer." + +Then she was left alone again, and being so left, paced the room +slowly, her gaze upon the floor. + +"That was well done," she said. "When he returns and has not found +him, I will be angered, and send him again to wait." + +She stayed her pacing, and passed her hand across her face. + +"'Tis like a nightmare," she said--"as if one dreamed, and choked, +and panted, and would scream aloud, but could not. I cannot! I +must not! Would that I might shriek, and dash myself upon the +floor, and beat my head upon it until I lay--as HE does." + +She stood a moment, breathing fast, her eyes widening, that part of +her which was weak woman for the moment putting her in parlous +danger, realising the which she pressed her sides with hands that +were of steel. + +"Wait! wait!" she said to herself. "This is going mad. This is +loosening hold, and being beaten by that One who hates me and laughs +to see what I have come to." + +Naught but that unnatural engine of will could have held her within +bounds and restrained the mounting female weakness that beset her; +but this engine being stronger than all else, it beat her womanish +and swooning terrors down. + +"Through this one day I must live," she said, "and plan, and guard +each moment that doth pass. My face must tell no tale, my voice +must hint none. He will be still--God knows he will be still +enough." + +Upon the divan itself there had been lying a little dog; 'twas a +King Charles' spaniel, a delicate pampered thing, which attached +itself to her, and was not easily driven away. Once during the last +hour the fierce, ill-hushed voices had disturbed it, and it had +given vent to a fretted bark, but being a luxurious little beast, it +had soon curled up among its cushions and gone to sleep again. But +as its mistress walked about muttering low words and ofttimes +breathing sharp breaths, it became disturbed again. Perhaps through +some instinct of which naught is known by human creatures, it felt +the strange presence of a thing which roused it. It stirred, at +first drowsily, and lifted its head and sniffed; then it stretched +its limbs, and having done so, stood up, turning on its mistress a +troubled eye, and this she saw and stopped to meet it. 'Twas a +strange look she bestowed upon it, a startled and fearful one; her +thought drew the blood up to her cheek, but backward again it flowed +when the little beast lifted its nose and gave a low but woeful +howl. Twice it did this, and then jumped down, and standing before +the edge of the couch, stood there sniffing. + +There was no mistake, some instinct of which it knew not the meaning +had set it on, and it would not be thrust back. In all beasts this +strange thing has been remarked--that they know That which ends them +all, and so revolt against it that they cannot be at rest so long as +it is near them, but must roar, or whinny, or howl until 'tis out of +the reach of their scent. And so 'twas plain this little beast knew +and was afraid and restless. He would not let it be, but roved +about, sniffing and whining, and not daring to thrust his head +beneath the falling draperies, but growing more and yet more excited +and terrified, until at last he stopped, raised head in air, and +gave vent to a longer, louder, and more dolorous howl, and albeit to +one with so strange and noticeable a sound that her heart turned +over in her breast as she stooped and caught him in her grasp, and +shuddered as she stood upright, holding him to her side, her hand +over his mouth. But he would not be hushed, and struggled to get +down as if indeed he would go mad unless he might get to the thing +and rave at it. + +"If I send thee from the room thou wilt come back, poor Frisk," she +said. "There will be no keeping thee away, and I have never ordered +thee away before. Why couldst thou not keep still? Nay, 'twas not +dog nature." + +That it was not so was plain by his struggles and the yelps but +poorly stifled by her grasp. + +She put her hand about his little neck, turning, in sooth, very +pale. + +"Thou too, poor little beast," she said. "Thou too, who art so +small a thing and never harmed me." + +When the lacquey came back he wore an air more timorous than before. + +"Your ladyship," he faltered, "Sir John had not yet reached his +lodgings. His servant knew not when he might expect him." + +"In an hour go again and wait," she commanded. "He must return ere +long if he has not left town." + +And having said this, pointed to a little silken heap which lay +outstretched limp upon the floor. "'Tis poor Frisk, who has had +some strange spasm, and fell, striking his head. He hath been +ailing for days, and howled loudly but an hour ago. Take him away, +poor beast." + + + +CHAPTER XVII--Wherein his Grace of Osmonde's courier arrives from +France + + + +The stronghold of her security lay in the fact that her household so +stood in awe of her, and that this room, which was one of the +richest and most beautiful, though not the largest, in the mansion, +all her servitors had learned to regard as a sort of sacred place in +which none dared to set foot unless invited or commanded to enter. +Within its four walls she read and wrote in the morning hours, no +servant entering unless summoned by her; and the apartment seeming, +as it were, a citadel, none approached without previous parley. In +the afternoon the doors were thrown open, and she entertained there +such visitors as came with less formality than statelier assemblages +demanded. When she went out of it this morning to go to her chamber +that her habit might be changed and her toilette made, she glanced +about her with a steady countenance. + +"Until the babblers flock in to chatter of the modes and +playhouses," she said, "all will be as quiet as the grave. Then I +must stand near, and plan well, and be in such beauty and spirit +that they will see naught but me." + +In the afternoon 'twas the fashion for those who had naught more +serious in their hands than the killing of time to pay visits to +each other's houses, and drinking dishes of tea, to dispose of their +neighbours' characters, discuss the play-houses, the latest fashions +in furbelows or commodes, and make love either lightly or with +serious intent. One may be sure that at my Lady Dunstanwolde's many +dishes of Bohea were drunk, and many ogling glances and much +witticism exchanged. There was in these days even a greater +following about her than ever. A triumphant beauty on the verge of +becoming a great duchess is not like to be neglected by her +acquaintance, and thus her ladyship held assemblies both gay and +brilliantly varied, which were the delight of the fashionable +triflers of the day. + +This afternoon they flocked in greater numbers than usual. The +episode of the breaking of Devil, the unexpected return of his Grace +of Osmonde, the preparations for the union, had given an extra +stimulant to that interest in her ladyship which was ever great +enough to need none. Thereunto was added the piquancy of the +stories of the noticeable demeanour of Sir John Oxon, of what had +seemed to be so plain a rebellion against his fate, and also of my +lady's open and cold displeasure at the manner of his bearing +himself as a disappointed man who presumed to show anger against +that to which he should gallantly have been resigned, as one who is +conquered by the chance of war. Those who had beheld the two ride +homeward together in the morning, were full of curiousness, and one +and another, mentioning the matter, exchanged glances, speaking +plainly of desire to know more of what had passed, and of hope that +chance might throw the two together again in public, where more of +interest might be gathered. It seemed indeed not unlikely that Sir +John might appear among the tea-bibbers, and perchance 'twas for +this lively reason that my lady's room was this afternoon more than +usually full of gay spirits and gossip-loving ones. + +They found, however, only her ladyship's self and her sister, +Mistress Anne, who, of truth, did not often join her tea-parties, +finding them so given up to fashionable chatter and worldly +witticisms that she felt herself somewhat out of place. The world +knew Mistress Anne but as a dull, plain gentlewoman, whom her more +brilliant and fortunate sister gave gracious protection to, and none +missed her when she was absent, or observed her greatly when she +appeared upon the scene. To-day she was perchance more observed +than usual, because her pallor was so great a contrast to her +ladyship's splendour of beauty and colour. The contrast between +them was ever a great one; but this afternoon Mistress Anne's always +pale countenance seemed almost livid, there were rings of pain or +illness round her eyes, and her features looked drawn and pinched. +My Lady Dunstanwolde, clad in a great rich petticoat of crimson +flowered satin, with wondrous yellow Mechlin for her ruffles, and +with her glorious hair dressed like a tower, looked taller, more +goddess-like and full of splendid fire than ever she had been before +beheld, or so her visitors said to her and to each other; though, to +tell the truth, this was no new story, she being one of those women +having the curious power of inspiring the beholder with the feeling +each time he encountered them that he had never before seen them in +such beauty and bloom. + +When she had come down the staircase from her chamber, Anne, who had +been standing at the foot, had indeed started somewhat at the sight +of her rich dress and brilliant hues. + +"Why do you jump as if I were a ghost, Anne?" she asked. "Do I look +like one? My looking-glass did not tell me so." + +"No," said Anne; "you--are so--so crimson and splendid--and I--" + +Her ladyship came swiftly down the stairs to her. + +"You are not crimson and splendid," she said. "'Tis you who are a +ghost. What is it?" + +Anne let her soft, dull eyes rest upon her for a moment helplessly, +and when she replied her voice sounded weak. + +"I think--I am ill, sister," she said. "I seem to tremble and feel +faint." + +"Go then to bed and see the physician. You must be cared for," said +her ladyship. "In sooth, you look ill indeed." + +"Nay," said Anne; "I beg you, sister, this afternoon let me be with +you; it will sustain me. You are so strong--let me--" + +She put out her hand as if to touch her, but it dropped at her side +as though its strength was gone. + +"But there will be many babbling people," said her sister, with a +curious look. "You do not like company, and these days my rooms are +full. 'Twill irk and tire you." + +"I care not for the people--I would be with you," Anne said, in +strange imploring. "I have a sick fancy that I am afraid to sit +alone in my chamber. 'Tis but weakness. Let me this afternoon be +with you." + +"Go then and change your robe," said Clorinda, "and put some red +upon your cheeks. You may come if you will. You are a strange +creature Anne." + +And thus saying, she passed into her apartment. As there are blows +and pain which end in insensibility or delirium, so there are +catastrophes and perils which are so great as to produce something +near akin to these. As she had stood before her mirror in her +chamber watching her reflection, while her woman attired her in her +crimson flowered satin and builded up her stately head-dress, this +other woman had felt that the hour when she could have shrieked and +raved and betrayed herself had passed by, and left a deadness like a +calm behind, as though horror had stunned all pain and yet left her +senses clear. She forgot not the thing which lay staring upward +blankly at the under part of the couch which hid it--the look of its +fixed eyes, its outspread locks, and the purple indentation on the +temple she saw as clearly as she had seen them in that first mad +moment when she had stood staring downward at the thing itself; but +the coursing of her blood was stilled, the gallop of her pulses, and +that wild hysteric leaping of her heart into her throat, choking her +and forcing her to gasp and pant in that way which in women must +ever end in shrieks and cries and sobbing beatings of the air. But +for the feminine softness to which her nature had given way for the +first time, since the power of love had mastered her, there was no +thing of earth could have happened to her which would have brought +this rolling ball to her throat, this tremor to her body--since the +hour of her birth she had never been attacked by such a female +folly, as she would indeed have regarded it once; but now 'twas +different--for a while she had been a woman--a woman who had flung +herself upon the bosom of him who was her soul's lord, and resting +there, her old rigid strength had been relaxed. + +But 'twas not this woman who had known tender yielding who returned +to take her place in the Panelled Parlour, knowing of the companion +who waited near her unseen--for it was as her companion she thought +of him, as she had thought of him when he followed her in the Mall, +forced himself into her box at the play, or stood by her shoulder at +assemblies; he had placed himself by her side again, and would stay +there until she could rid herself of him. + +"After to-night he will be gone, if I act well my part," she said, +"and then may I live a freed woman." + +'Twas always upon the divan she took her place when she received her +visitors, who were accustomed to finding her enthroned there. This +afternoon when she came into the room she paused for a space, and +stood beside it, the parlour being yet empty. She felt her face +grow a little cold, as if it paled, and her under-lip drew itself +tight across her teeth. + +"In a graveyard," she said, "I have sat upon the stone ledge of a +tomb, and beneath there was--worse than this, could I but have seen +it. This is no more." + +When the Sir Humphreys and Lord Charleses, Lady Bettys and Mistress +Lovelys were announced in flocks, fluttering and chattering, she +rose from her old place to meet them, and was brilliant graciousness +itself. She hearkened to their gossipings, and though 'twas not her +way to join in them, she was this day witty in such way as robbed +them of the dulness in which sometimes gossip ends. It was a varied +company which gathered about her; but to each she gave his or her +moment, and in that moment said that which they would afterwards +remember. With those of the Court she talked royalty, the humours +of her Majesty, the severities of her Grace of Marlborough; with +statesmen she spoke with such intellect and discretion that they +went away pondering on the good fortune which had befallen one man +when it seemed that it was of such proportions as might have +satisfied a dozen, for it seemed not fair to them that his Grace of +Osmonde, having already rank, wealth, and fame, should have added to +them a gift of such magnificence as this beauteous woman would +bring; with beaux and wits she made dazzling jests; and to the +beauties who desired their flatteries she gave praise so adroit that +they were stimulated to plume their feathers afresh and cease to +fear the rivalry of her loveliness. + +And yet while she so bore herself, never once did she cease to feel +the presence of that which, lying near, seemed to her racked soul as +one who lay and listened with staring eyes which mocked; for there +was a thought which would not leave her, which was, that it could +hear, that it could see through the glazing on its blue orbs, and +that knowing itself bound by the moveless irons of death and +dumbness it impotently raged and cursed that it could not burst them +and shriek out its vengeance, rolling forth among her worshippers at +their feet and hers. + +"But he CAN not," she said, within her clenched teeth, again and +again--"THAT he cannot." + +Once as she said this to herself she caught Anne's eyes fixed +helplessly upon her, it seeming to be as the poor woman had said, +that her weakness caused her to desire to abide near her sister's +strength and draw support from it; for she had remained at my lady's +side closely since she had descended to the room, and now seemed to +implore some protection for which she was too timid to openly make +request. + +"You are too weak to stay, Anne," her ladyship said. "'Twould be +better that you should retire." + +"I am weak," the poor thing answered, in low tones--"but not too +weak to stay. I am always weak. Would that I were of your strength +and courage. Let me sit down--sister-- here." She touched the +divan's cushions with a shaking hand, gazing upward wearily-- +perchance remembering that this place seemed ever a sort of throne +none other than the hostess queen herself presumed to encroach upon. + +"You are too meek, poor sister," quoth Clorinda. "'Tis not a chair +of coronation or the woolsack of a judge. Sit! sit!--and let me +call for wine!" + +She spoke to a lacquey and bade him bring the drink, for even as she +sank into her place Anne's cheeks grew whiter. + +When 'twas brought, her ladyship poured it forth and gave it to her +sister with her own hand, obliging her to drink enough to bring her +colour back. Having seen to this, she addressed the servant who had +obeyed her order. + +"Hath Jenfry returned from Sir John Oxon?" she demanded, in that +clear, ringing voice of hers, whose music ever arrested those +surrounding her, whether they were concerned in her speech or no; +but now all felt sufficient interest to prick up ears and hearken to +what was said. + +"No, my lady," the lacquey answered. "He said that you had bidden +him to wait." + +"But not all day, poor fool," she said, setting down Anne's empty +glass upon the salver. "Did he think I bade him stand about the +door all night? Bring me his message when he comes." + +"'Tis ever thus with these dull serving folk," she said to those +nearest her. "One cannot pay for wit with wages and livery. They +can but obey the literal word. Sir John, leaving me in haste this +morning, I forgot a question I would have asked, and sent a lacquey +to recall him." + +Anne sat upright. + +"Sister--I pray you--another glass of wine." + +My lady gave it to her at once, and she drained it eagerly. + +"Was he overtaken?" said a curious matron, who wished not to see the +subject closed. + +"No," quoth her ladyship, with a light laugh--"though he must have +been in haste, for the man was sent after him in but a moment's +time. 'Twas then I told the fellow to go later to his lodgings and +deliver my message into Sir John's own hand, whence it seems that he +thinks that he must await him till he comes." + +Upon a table near there lay the loaded whip; for she had felt it +bolder to let it lie there as if forgotten, because her pulse had +sprung so at first sight of it when she came down, and she had so +quailed before the desire to thrust it away, to hide it from her +sight. "And that I quail before," she had said, "I must have the +will to face--or I am lost." So she had let it stay. + +A languishing beauty, with melting blue eyes and a pretty fashion of +ever keeping before the world of her admirers her waxen delicacy, +lifted the heavy thing in her frail white hand. + +"How can your ladyship wield it?" she said. "It is so heavy for a +woman--but your ladyship is--is not--" + +"Not quite a woman," said the beautiful creature, standing at her +full great height, and smiling down at this blue and white piece of +frailty with the flashing splendour of her eyes. + +"Not quite a woman," cried two wits at once. "A goddess rather--an +Olympian goddess." + +The languisher could not endure comparisons which so seemed to +disparage her ethereal charms. She lifted the weapon with a great +effort, which showed the slimness of her delicate fair wrist and the +sweet tracery of blue veins upon it. + +"Nay," she said lispingly, "it needs the muscle of a great man to +lift it. I could not hold it--much less beat with it a horse." And +to show how coarse a strength was needed and how far her femininity +lacked such vigour, she dropped it upon the floor--and it rolled +beneath the edge of the divan. + +"Now," the thought shot through my lady's brain, as a bolt shoots +from the sky--"now--he LAUGHS!" + +She had no time to stir--there were upon their knees three beaux at +once, and each would sure have thrust his arm below the seat and +rummaged, had not God saved her! Yes, 'twas of God she thought in +that terrible mad second--God!--and only a mind that is not human +could have told why. + +For Anne--poor Mistress Anne--white-faced and shaking, was before +them all, and with a strange adroitness stooped,--and thrust her +hand below, and drawing the thing forth, held it up to view. + +"'Tis here," she said, "and in sooth, sister, I wonder not at its +falling--its weight is so great." + +Clorinda took it from her hand. + +"I shall break no more beasts like Devil," she said, "and for +quieter ones it weighs too much; I shall lay it by." + +She crossed the room and laid it upon a shelf. + +"It was ever heavy--but for Devil. 'Tis done with," she said; and +there came back to her face--which for a second had lost hue--a +flood of crimson so glowing, and a smile so strange, that those who +looked and heard, said to themselves that 'twas the thought of +Osmonde who had so changed her, which made her blush. But a few +moments later they beheld the same glow mount again. A lacquey +entered, bearing a salver on which lay two letters. One was a large +one, sealed with a ducal coronet, and this she saw first, and took +in her hand even before the man had time to speak. + +"His Grace's courier has arrived from France," he said; "the package +was ordered to be delivered at once." + +"It must be that his Grace returns earlier than we had hoped," she +said, and then the other missive caught her eye. + +"'Tis your ladyship's own," the lacquey explained somewhat +anxiously. "'Twas brought back, Sir John not having yet come home, +and Jenfry having waited three hours." + +"'Twas long enough," quoth her ladyship. "'Twill do to-morrow." + +She did not lay Osmonde's letter aside, but kept it in her hand, and +seeing that she waited for their retirement to read it, her guests +began to make their farewells. One by one or in groups of twos and +threes they left her, the men bowing low, and going away fretted by +the memory of the picture she made--a tall and regal figure in her +flowered crimson, her stateliness seeming relaxed and softened by +the mere holding of the sealed missive in her hand. But the women +were vaguely envious, not of Osmonde, but of her before whom there +lay outspread as far as life's horizon reached, a future of such +perfect love and joy; for Gerald Mertoun had been marked by feminine +eyes since his earliest youth, and had seemed to embody all that +woman's dreams or woman's ambitions or her love could desire. + +When the last was gone, Clorinda turned, tore her letter open, and +held it hard to her lips. Before she read a word she kissed it +passionately a score of times, paying no heed that Anne sate gazing +at her; and having kissed it so, she fell to reading it, her cheeks +warm with the glow of a sweet and splendid passion, her bosom rising +and falling in a tempest of tender, fluttering breaths--and 'twas +these words her eyes devoured + + +"If I should head this page I write to you 'Goddess and Queen, and +Empress of my deepest soul,' what more should I be saying than 'My +Love' and 'My Clorinda,' since these express all the soul of man +could crave for or his body desire. The body and soul of me so long +for thee, sweetheart, and sweetest beautiful woman that the hand of +Nature ever fashioned for the joy of mortals, that I have had need +to pray Heaven's help to aid me to endure the passing of the days +that lie between me and the hour which will make me the most +strangely, rapturously, happy man, not in England, not in the world, +but in all God's universe. I must pray Heaven again, and indeed do +and will, for humbleness which shall teach me to remember that I am +not deity, but mere man--mere man--though I shall hold a goddess to +my breast and gaze into eyes which are like deep pools of Paradise, +and yet answer mine with the marvel of such love as none but such a +soul could make a woman's, and so fit to mate with man's. In the +heavy days when I was wont to gaze at you from afar with burning +heart, my unceasing anguish was that even high honour itself could +not subdue and conquer the thoughts which leaped within me even as +my pulse leaped, and even as my pulse could not be stilled unless by +death. And one that for ever haunted--ay, and taunted--me was the +image of how your tall, beauteous body would yield itself to a +strong man's arm, and your noble head with its heavy tower of hair +resting upon his shoulder--the centres of his very being would be +thrilled and shaken by the uplifting of such melting eyes as surely +man ne'er gazed within on earth before, and the ripe and scarlet bow +of a mouth so beauteous and so sweet with womanhood. This beset me +day and night, and with such torture that I feared betimes my brain +might reel and I become a lost and ruined madman. And now--it is no +more forbidden me to dwell upon it--nay, I lie waking at night, +wooing the picture to me, and at times I rise from my dreams to +kneel by my bedside and thank God that He hath given me at last what +surely is my own!-for so it seems to me, my love, that each of us is +but a part of the other, and that such forces of Nature rush to meet +together in us, that Nature herself would cry out were we rent +apart. If there were aught to rise like a ghost between us, if +there were aught that could sunder us--noble soul, let us but swear +that it shall weld us but the closer together, and that locked in +each other's arms its blows shall not even make our united strength +to sway. Sweetest lady, your lovely lip will curve in smiles, and +you will say, 'He is mad with his joy--my Gerald' (for never till my +heart stops at its last beat and leaves me still, a dead man, cold +upon my bed, can I forget the music of your speech when you spoke +those words, 'My Gerald! My Gerald.') And indeed I crave your +pardon, for a man so filled with rapture cannot be quite sane, and +sometimes I wonder if I walk through the palace gardens like one who +is drunk, so does my brain reel. But soon, my heavenly, noble love, +my exile will be over, and this is in truth what my letter is to +tell you, that in four days your lacqueys will throw open your doors +to me and I shall enter, and being led to you, shall kneel at your +feet and kiss the hem of your robe, and then rise standing to fold +her who will so soon be my very wife to my throbbing breast." + + +Back to her face had come all the softness which had been lost, the +hard lines were gone, the tender curves had returned, her lashes +looked as if they were moist. Anne, sitting rigidly and gazing at +her, was afraid to speak, knowing that she was not for the time on +earth, but that the sound of a voice would bring her back to it, and +that 'twas well she should be away as long as she might. + +She read the letter, not once, but thrice, dwelling upon every word, +'twas plain; and when she had reached the last one, turning back the +pages and beginning again. When she looked up at last, 'twas with +an almost wild little smile, for she had indeed for that one moment +forgotten. + +"Locked in each other's arms," she said--"locked in each other's +arms. My Gerald! My Gerald! 'What surely is my own--my own'!" + +Anne rose and came to her, laying her hand on her arm. She spoke in +a voice low, hushed, and strained. + +"Come away, sister," she said, "for a little while--come away." + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--My Lady Dunstanwolde sits late alone and writes + + + +That she must leave the Panelled Parlour at her usual hour, or +attract attention by doing that to which her household was +unaccustomed, she well knew, her manner of life being ever stately +and ceremonious in its regularity. When she dined at home she and +Anne partook of their repast together in the large dining-room, the +table loaded with silver dishes and massive glittering glass, their +powdered, gold-laced lacqueys in attendance, as though a score of +guests had shared the meal with them. Since her lord's death there +had been nights when her ladyship had sat late writing letters and +reading documents pertaining to her estates, the management of +which, though in a measure controlled by stewards and attorneys, was +not left to them, as the business of most great ladies is generally +left to others. All papers were examined by her, all leases and +agreements clearly understood before she signed them, and if there +were aught unsatisfactory, both stewards and lawyers were called to +her presence to explain. + +"Never did I--or any other man--meet with such a head upon a woman's +shoulders," her attorney said. And the head steward of Dunstanwolde +and Helversly learned to quake at the sight of her bold handwriting +upon the outside of a letter. + +"Such a lady!" he said--"such a lady! Lie to her if you can; palter +if you know how; try upon her the smallest honest shrewd trick, and +see how it fares with you. Were it not that she is generous as she +is piercing of eye, no man could serve her and make an honest +living." + +She went to her chamber and was attired again sumptuously for +dinner. Before she descended she dismissed her woman for a space on +some errand, and when she was alone, drawing near to her mirror, +gazed steadfastly within it at her face. When she had read +Osmonde's letter her cheeks had glowed; but when she had come back +to earth, and as she had sat under her woman's hands at her +toilette, bit by bit the crimson had died out as she had thought of +what was behind her and of what lay before. The thing was so +stiffly rigid by this time, and its eyes still stared so. Never had +she needed to put red upon her cheeks before, Nature having stained +them with such richness of hue; but as no lady of the day was +unprovided with her crimson, there was a little pot among her +toilette ornaments which contained all that any emergency might +require. She opened this small receptacle and took from it the red +she for the first time was in want of. + +"I must not wear a pale face, God knows," she said, and rubbed the +colour on her cheeks with boldness. + +It would have seemed that she wore her finest crimson when she went +forth full dressed from her apartment; little Nero grinned to see +her, the lacqueys saying among themselves that his Grace's courier +had surely brought good news, and that they might expect his master +soon. At the dinner-table 'twas Anne who was pale and ate but +little, she having put no red upon her cheeks, and having no +appetite for what was spread before her. She looked strangely as +though she were withered and shrunken, and her face seemed even +wrinkled. My lady had small leaning towards food, but she sent no +food away untouched, forcing herself to eat, and letting not the +talk flag--though it was indeed true that 'twas she herself who +talked, Mistress Anne speaking rarely; but as it was always her way +to be silent, and a listener rather than one who conversed, this was +not greatly noticeable. + +Her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde talked of her guests of the afternoon, +and was charming and witty in her speech of them; she repeated the +mots of the wits, and told some brilliant stories of certain modish +ladies and gentlemen of fashion; she had things to say of statesmen +and politics, and was sparkling indeed in speaking of the lovely +languisher whose little wrist was too delicate and slender to +support the loaded whip. While she talked, Mistress Anne's soft, +dull eyes were fixed upon her with a sort of wonder which had some +of the quality of bewilderment; but this was no new thing either, +for to the one woman the other was ever something to marvel at. + +"It is because you are so quiet a mouse, Anne," my lady said, with +her dazzling smile, "that you seem never in the way; and yet I +should miss you if I knew you were not within the house. When the +duke takes me to Camylotte you must be with me even then. It is so +great a house that in it I can find you a bower in which you can be +happy even if you see us but little. 'Tis a heavenly place I am +told, and of great splendour and beauty. The park and flower- +gardens are the envy of all England." + +"You--will be very happy, sister," said Anne, "and--and like a +queen." + +"Yes," was her sister's answer--"yes." And 'twas spoken with a deep +in-drawn breath. + +After the repast was ended she went back to the Panelled Parlour. + +"You may sit with me till bedtime if you desire, Anne," she said; +"but 'twill be but dull for you, as I go to sit at work. I have +some documents of import to examine and much writing to do. I shall +sit up late." And upon this she turned to the lacquey holding open +the door for her passing through. "If before half-past ten there +comes a message from Sir John Oxon," she gave order, "it must be +brought to me at once; but later I must not be disturbed--it will +keep until morning." + +Yet as she spoke there was before her as distinct a picture as ever +of what lay waiting and gazing in the room to which she went. + +Until twelve o'clock she sat at her table, a despatch box by her +side, papers outspread before her. Within three feet of her was the +divan, but she gave no glance to it, sitting writing, reading, and +comparing documents. At twelve o'clock she rose and rang the bell. + +"I shall be later than I thought," she said. "I need none of you +who are below stairs. Go you all to bed. Tell my woman that she +also may lie down. I will ring when I come to my chamber and have +need of her. There is yet no message from Sir John?" + +"None, my lady," the man answered. + +He went away with a relieved countenance, as she made no comment. +He knew that his fellows as well as himself would be pleased enough +to be released from duty for the night. They were a pampered lot, +and had no fancy for late hours when there were no great +entertainments being held which pleased them and gave them chances +to receive vails. + +Mistress Anne sat in a large chair, huddled into a small heap, and +looking colourless and shrunken. As she heard bolts being shot and +bars put up for the closing of the house, she knew that her own +dismissal was at hand. Doors were shut below stairs, and when all +was done the silence of night reigned as it does in all households +when those who work have gone to rest. 'Twas a common thing enough, +and yet this night there was one woman who felt the stillness so +deep that it made her breathing seem a sound too loud. + +"Go to bed, Anne," she said. "You have stayed up too long." + +Anne arose from her chair and drew near to her. + +"Sister," said she, as she had said before, "let me stay." + +She was a poor weak creature, and so she looked with her pale +insignificant face and dull eyes, a wisp of loose hair lying damp on +her forehead. She seemed indeed too weak a thing to stand even for +a moment in the way of what must be done this night, and 'twas +almost irritating to be stopped by her. + +"Nay," said my Lady Dunstanwolde, her beautiful brow knitting as she +looked at her. "Go to your chamber, Anne, and to sleep. I must do +my work, and finish to-night what I have begun." + +"But--but--" Anne stammered, dominated again, and made afraid, as +she ever was, by this strong nature, "in this work you must finish-- +is there not something I could do to--aid you--even in some small +and poor way. Is there--naught?" + +"Naught," answered Clorinda, her form drawn to its great full +height, her lustrous eyes darkening. "What should there be that you +could understand?" + +"Not some small thing--not some poor thing?" Anne said, her fingers +nervously twisting each other, so borne down was she by her awful +timorousness, for awful it was indeed when she saw clouds gather on +her sister's brow. "I have so loved you, sister--I have so loved +you that my mind is quickened somehow at times, and I can understand +more than would be thought--when I hope to serve you. Once you +said--once you said--" + +She knew not then nor ever afterwards how it came to pass that in +that moment she found herself swept into her sister's white arms and +strained against her breast, wherein she felt the wild heart +bounding; nor could she, not being given to subtle reasoning, have +comprehended the almost fierce kiss on her cheek nor the hot drops +that wet it. + +"I said that I believed that if you saw me commit murder," Clorinda +cried, "you would love me still, and be my friend and comforter." + +"I would, I would!" cried Anne. + +"And I believe your word, poor, faithful soul--I do believe it," my +lady said, and kissed her hard again, but the next instant set her +free and laughed. "But you will not be put to the test," she said, +"for I have done none. And in two days' time my Gerald will be +here, and I shall be safe--saved and happy for evermore--for +evermore. There, leave me! I would be alone and end my work." + +And she went back to her table and sat beside it, taking her pen to +write, and Anne knew that she dare say no more, and turning, went +slowly from the room, seeing for her last sight as she passed +through the doorway, the erect and splendid figure at its task, the +light from the candelabras shining upon the rubies round the snow- +white neck and wreathed about the tower of raven hair like lines of +crimson. + + + +CHAPTER XIX--A piteous story is told, and the old cellars walled in + + + +It is, indeed, strangely easy in the great world for a man to lose +his importance, and from having been the target for all eyes and the +subject of all conversation, to step from his place, or find it so +taken by some rival that it would seem, judging from the general +obliviousness to him, that he had never existed. But few years +before no fashionable gathering would have been felt complete had it +not been graced by the presence of the young and fascinating +Lovelace, Sir John Oxon. Women favoured him, and men made +themselves his boon companions; his wit was repeated; the fashion of +his hair and the cut of his waistcoat copied. He was at first rich +and gay enough to be courted and made a favourite; but when his +fortune was squandered, and his marriage with the heiress came to +naught, those qualities which were vicious and base in him were more +easy to be seen. Besides, there came new male beauties and new +dandies with greater resources and more of prudence, and these, +beginning to set fashion, win ladies' hearts, and make conquests, so +drew the attention of the public mind that he was less noticeable, +being only one of many, instead of ruling singly as it had seemed +that by some strange chance he did at first. There were indeed so +many stories told of his light ways, that their novelty being worn +off and new ones still repeated, such persons as concerned +themselves with matters of reputation either through conscience or +policy, began to speak of him with less of warmth or leniency. + +"'Tis not well for a matron with daughters to marry and with sons to +keep an eye to," it was said, "to have in her household too often a +young gentleman who has squandered his fortune in dice and drink and +wild living, and who 'twas known was cast off by a reputable young +lady of fortune." + +So there were fine ladies who began to avoid him, and those in power +at Court and in the world who regarded him with lessening favour day +by day! In truth, he had such debts, and his creditors pressed him +so ceaselessly, that even had the world's favour continued, his life +must have changed its aspect greatly. His lodgings were no longer +the most luxurious in the fashionable part of the town, his brocades +and laces were no longer of the richest, nor his habit of the very +latest and most modish cut; he had no more an equipage attracting +every eye as he drove forth, nor a gentleman's gentleman whose +swagger and pomp outdid that of all others in his world. Soon after +the breaking of his marriage with the heiress, his mother had died, +and his relatives being few, and those of an order strictly averse +to the habits of ill-provided and extravagant kinsmen, he had but +few family ties. Other ties he had, 'twas true, but they were not +such as were accounted legal or worthy of attention either by +himself or those related to him. + +So it befell that when my Lady Dunstanwolde's lacquey could not find +him at his lodgings, and as the days went past neither his landlady +nor his creditors beheld him again, his absence from the scene was +not considered unaccountable by them, nor did it attract the notice +it would have done in times gone by. + +"He hath made his way out of England to escape us," said the angry +tailors and mercers--who had besieged his door in vain for months, +and who were now infuriated at the thought of their own easiness and +the impudent gay airs which had befooled them. "A good four hundred +pounds of mine hath he carried with him," said one. "And two +hundred of mine!" "And more of mine, since I am a poor man to whom +a pound means twenty guineas!" "We are all robbed, and he has +cheated the debtors' prison, wherein, if we had not been fools, he +would have been clapped six months ago." + +"Think ye he will not come back, gentlemen?" quavered his landlady. +"God knows when I have seen a guinea of his money--but he was such a +handsome, fine young nobleman, and had such a way with a poor body, +and ever a smile and a chuck o' the chin for my Jenny." + +"Look well after poor Jenny if he hath left her behind," said the +tailor. + +He did not come back, indeed; and hearing the rumour that he had +fled his creditors, the world of fashion received the news with +small disturbance, all modish persons being at that time much +engaged in discussion of the approaching nuptials of her ladyship of +Dunstanwolde and the Duke of Osmonde. Close upon the discussions of +the preparations came the nuptials themselves, and then all the town +was agog, and had small leisure to think of other things. For those +who were bidden to the ceremonials and attendant entertainments, +there were rich habits and splendid robes to be prepared; and to +those who had not been bidden, there were bitter disappointments and +thwarted wishes to think of. + +"Sir John Oxon has fled England to escape seeing and hearing it +all," was said. + +"He has fled to escape something more painful than the spleen," +others answered. "He had reached his rope's end, and finding that +my Lady Dunstanwolde was not of a mind to lengthen it with her +fortune, having taken a better man, and that his creditors would +have no more patience, he showed them a light pair of heels." + +Before my Lady Dunstanwolde left her house she gave orders that it +be set in order for closing for some time, having it on her mind +that she should not soon return. It was, however, to be left in +such condition that at any moment, should she wish to come to it, +all could be made ready in two days' time. To this end various +repairs and changes she had planned were to be carried out as soon +as she went away from it. Among other things was the closing with +brickwork of the entrance to the passage leading to the unused +cellars. + +"'Twill make the servants' part more wholesome and less damp and +draughty," she said; "and if I should sell the place, will be to its +advantage. 'Twas a builder with little wit who planned such +passages and black holes. In spite of all the lime spread there, +they were ever mouldy and of evil odour." + +It was her command that there should be no time lost, and men were +set at work, carrying bricks and mortar. It so chanced that one of +them, going in through a back entrance with a hod over his shoulder, +and being young and lively, found his eye caught by the countenance +of a pretty, frightened-looking girl, who seemed to be loitering +about watching, as if curious or anxious. Seeing her near each time +he passed, and observing that she wished to speak, but was too +timid, he addressed her - + +"Would you know aught, mistress?" he said. + +She drew nearer gratefully, and then he saw her eyes were red as if +with weeping. + +"Think you her ladyship would let a poor girl speak a word with +her?" she said. "Think you I dare ask so much of a servant--or +would they flout me and turn me from the door? Have you seen her? +Does she look like a hard, shrewish lady?" + +"That she does not, though all stand in awe of her," he answered, +pleased to talk with so pretty a creature. "I but caught a glimpse +of her when she gave orders concerning the closing with brick of a +passage-way below. She is a tall lady, and grand and stately, but +she hath a soft pair of eyes as ever man would wish to look into, be +he duke or ditcher." + +The tears began to run down the girl's cheeks. + +"Ay!" she said; "all men love her, they say. Many a poor girl's +sweetheart has been false through her--and I thought she was cruel +and ill-natured. Know you the servants that wait on her? Would you +dare to ask one for me, if he thinks she would deign to see a poor +girl who would crave the favour to be allowed to speak to her of--of +a gentleman she knows?" + +"They are but lacqueys, and I would dare to ask what was in my +mind," he answered; "but she is near her wedding-day, and little as +I know of brides' ways, I am of the mind that she will not like to +be troubled." + +"That I stand in fear of," she said; "but, oh! I pray you, ask some +one of them--a kindly one." + +The young man looked aside. "Luck is with you," he said. "Here +comes one now to air himself in the sun, having naught else to do. +Here is a young woman who would speak with her ladyship," he said to +the strapping powdered fellow. + +"She had best begone," the lacquey answered, striding towards the +applicant. "Think you my lady has time to receive traipsing +wenches." + +"'Twas only for a moment I asked," the girl said. "I come from--I +would speak to her of--of Sir John Oxon--whom she knows." + +The man's face changed. It was Jenfry. + +"Sir John Oxon," he said. "Then I will ask her. Had you said any +other name I would not have gone near her to-day." + +Her ladyship was in her new closet with Mistress Anne, and there the +lacquey came to her to deliver his errand. + +"A country-bred young woman, your ladyship," he said, "comes from +Sir John Oxon--" + +"From Sir John Oxon!" cried Anne, starting in her chair. + +My Lady Dunstanwolde made no start, but turned a steady countenance +towards the door, looking into the lacquey's face. + +"Then he hath returned?" she said. + +"Returned!" said Anne. + +"After the morning he rode home with me," my lady answered, "'twas +said he went away. He left his lodgings without warning. It seems +he hath come back. What does the woman want?" she ended. + +"To speak with your ladyship," replied the man, "of Sir John +himself, she says." + +"Bring her to me," her ladyship commanded. + +The girl was brought in, overawed and trembling. She was a country- +bred young creature, as the lacquey had said, being of the simple +rose-and-white freshness of seventeen years perhaps, and having +childish blue eyes and fair curling locks. + +She was so frightened by the grandeur of her surroundings, and the +splendid beauty of the lady who was so soon to be a duchess, and was +already a great earl's widow, that she could only stand within the +doorway, curtseying and trembling, with tears welling in her eyes. + +"Be not afraid," said my Lady Dunstanwolde. "Come hither, child, +and tell me what you want." Indeed, she did not look a hard or +shrewish lady; she spoke as gently as woman could, and a mildness so +unexpected produced in the young creature such a revulsion of +feeling that she made a few steps forward and fell upon her knees, +weeping, and with uplifted hands. + +"My lady," she said, "I know not how I dared to come, but that I am +so desperate--and your ladyship being so happy, it seemed--it seemed +that you might pity me, who am so helpless and know not what to do." + +Her ladyship leaned forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee, her +chin held in her hand, to gaze at her. + +"You come from Sir John Oxon?" she said. + +Anne, watching, clutched each arm of her chair. + +"Not FROM him, asking your ladyship's pardon," said the child, "but- +-but--from the country to him," her head falling on her breast, "and +I know not where he is." + +"You came TO him," asked my lady. "Are you," and her speech was +pitiful and slow--"are you one of those whom he has--ruined?" + +The little suppliant looked up with widening orbs. + +"How could that be, and he so virtuous and pious a gentleman?" she +faltered. + +Then did my lady rise with a sudden movement. + +"Was he so?" says she. + +"Had he not been," the child answered, "my mother would have been +afraid to trust him. I am but a poor country widow's daughter, but +was well brought up, and honestly--and when he came to our village +my mother was afraid, because he was a gentleman; but when she saw +his piety, and how he went to church and sang the psalms and prayed +for grace, she let me listen to him." + +"Did he go to church and sing and pray at first?" my lady asks. + +"'Twas in church he saw me, your ladyship," she was answered. "He +said 'twas his custom to go always when he came to a new place, and +that often there he found the most heavenly faces, for 'twas piety +and innocence that made a face like to an angel's; and 'twas +innocence and virtue stirred his heart to love, and not mere beauty +which so fades." + +"Go on, innocent thing," my lady said; and she turned aside to Anne, +flashing from her eyes unseen a great blaze, and speaking in a low +and hurried voice. "God's house," she said--"God's prayers--God's +songs of praise--he used them all to break a tender heart, and bring +an innocent life to ruin--and yet was he not struck dead?" + +Anne hid her face and shuddered. + +"He was a gentleman," the poor young thing cried, sobbing--"and I no +fit match for him, but that he loved me. 'Tis said love makes all +equal; and he said I was the sweetest, innocent young thing, and +without me he could not live. And he told my mother that he was not +rich or the fashion now, and had no modish friends or relations to +flout any poor beauty he might choose to wed." + +"And he would marry you?" my lady's voice broke in. "He said that +he would marry you?" + +"A thousand times, your ladyship, and so told my mother, but said I +must come to town and be married at his lodgings, or 'twould not be +counted a marriage by law, he being a town gentleman, and I from the +country." + +"And you came," said Mistress Anne, down whose pale cheeks the tears +were running--"you came at his command to follow him?" + +"What day came you up to town?" demands my lady, breathless and +leaning forward. "Went you to his lodgings, and stayed you there +with him,--even for an hour?" + +The poor child gazed at her, paling. + +"He was not there!" she cried. "I came alone because he said all +must be secret at first; and my heart beat so with joy, my lady, +that when the woman of the house whereat he lodges let me in I +scarce could speak. But she was a merry woman and good-natured, and +only laughed and cheered me when she took me to his rooms, and I +sate trembling." + +"What said she to you?" my lady asks, her breast heaving with her +breath. + +"That he was not yet in, but that he would sure come to such a young +and pretty thing as I, and I must wait for him, for he would not +forgive her if she let me go. And the while I waited there came a +man in bands and cassock, but he had not a holy look, and late in +the afternoon I heard him making jokes with the woman outside, and +they both laughed in such an evil way that I was affrighted, and +waiting till they had gone to another part of the house, stole +away." + +"But he came not back that night--thank God!" my lady said--"he came +not back." + +The girl rose from her knees, trembling, her hands clasped on her +breast. + +"Why should your ladyship thank God?" she says, pure drops falling +from her eyes. "I am so humble, and had naught else but that great +happiness, and it was taken away--and you thank God." + +Then drops fell from my lady's eyes also, and she came forward and +caught the child's hand, and held it close and warm and strong, and +yet with her full lip quivering. + +"'Twas not that your joy was taken away that I thanked God," said +she. "I am not cruel--God Himself knows that, and when He smites me +'twill not be for cruelty. I knew not what I said, and yet--tell me +what did you then? Tell me?" + +"I went to a poor house to lodge, having some little money he had +given me," the simple young thing answered. "'Twas an honest house, +though mean and comfortless. And the next day I went back to his +lodgings to question, but he had not come, and I would not go in, +though the woman tried to make me enter, saying, Sir John would +surely return soon, as he had the day before rid with my Lady +Dunstanwolde and been to her house; and 'twas plain he had meant to +come to his lodgings, for her ladyship had sent her lacquey thrice +with a message." + +The hand with which Mistress Anne sate covering her eyes began to +shake. My lady's own hand would have shaken had she not been so +strong a creature. + +"And he has not yet returned, then?" she asked. "You have not seen +him?" + +The girl shook her fair locks, weeping with piteous little sobs. + +"He has not," she cried, "and I know not what to do--and the great +town seems full of evil men and wicked women. I know not which way +to turn, for all plot wrong against me, and would drag me down to +shamefulness--and back to my poor mother I cannot go." + +"Wherefore not, poor child?" my lady asked her. + +"I have not been made an honest, wedded woman, and none would +believe my story, and--and he might come back." + +"And if he came back?" said her ladyship. + +At this question the girl slipped from her grasp and down upon her +knees again, catching at her rich petticoat and holding it, her eyes +searching the great lady's in imploring piteousness, her own +streaming. + +"I love him," she wept--"I love him so--I cannot leave the place +where he might be. He was so beautiful and grand a gentleman, and, +sure, he loved me better than all else--and I cannot thrust away +from me that last night when he held me to his breast near our +cottage door, and the nightingale sang in the roses, and he spake +such words to me. I lie and sob all night on my hard pillow--I so +long to see him and to hear his voice--and hearing he had been with +you that last morning, I dared to come, praying that you might have +heard him let drop some word that would tell me where he may be, for +I cannot go away thinking he may come back longing for me--and I +lose him and never see his face again. Oh! my lady, my lady, this +place is so full of wickedness and fierce people--and dark kennels +where crimes are done. I am affrighted for him, thinking he may +have been struck some blow, and murdered, and hid away; and none +will look for him but one who loves him--who loves him. Could it be +so?--could it be? You know the town's ways so well. I pray you, +tell me--in God's name I pray you!" + +"God's mercy!" Anne breathed, and from behind her hands came stifled +sobbing. My Lady Dunstanwolde bent down, her colour dying. + +"Nay, nay," she said, "there has been no murder done--none! Hush, +poor thing, hush thee. There is somewhat I must tell thee." + +She tried to raise her, but the child would not be raised, and clung +to her rich robe, shaking as she knelt gazing upward. + +"It is a bitter thing," my lady said, and 'twas as if her own eyes +were imploring. "God help you bear it--God help us all. He told me +nothing of his journey. I knew not he was about to take it; but +wheresoever he has travelled, 'twas best that he should go." + +"Nay! nay!" the girl cried out--"to leave me helpless. Nay! it +could not be so. He loved me--loved me--as the great duke loves +you!" + +"He meant you evil," said my lady, shuddering, "and evil he would +have done you. He was a villain--a villain who meant to trick you. +Had God struck him dead that day, 'twould have been mercy to you. I +knew him well." + +The young thing gave a bitter cry and fell swooning at her feet; and +down upon her knees my lady went beside her, loosening her gown, and +chafing her poor hands as though they two had been of sister blood. + +"Call for hartshorn, Anne, and for water," she said; "she will come +out of her swooning, poor child, and if she is cared for kindly in +time her pain will pass away. God be thanked she knows no pain that +cannot pass! I will protect her--ay, that will I, as I will protect +all he hath done wrong to and deserted." + +* * * + +She was so strangely kind through the poor victim's swoons and +weeping that the very menials who were called to aid her went back +to their hall wondering in their talk of the noble grandness of so +great a lady, who on the very brink of her own joy could stoop to +protect and comfort a creature so far beneath her, that to most +ladies her sorrow and desertion would have been things which were +too trivial to count; for 'twas guessed, and talked over with great +freedom and much shrewdness, that this was a country victim of Sir +John Oxon's, and he having deserted his creditors, was read enough +to desert his rustic beauty, finding her heavy on his hands. + +Below stairs the men closing the entrance to the passage with brick, +having caught snatches of the servants' gossip, talked of what they +heard among themselves as they did their work. + +"Ay, a noble lady indeed," they said. "For 'tis not a woman's way +to be kindly with the cast-off fancy of a man, even when she does +not want him herself. He was her own worshipper for many a day, Sir +John; and before she took the old earl 'twas said that for a space +people believed she loved him. She was but fifteen and a high +mettled beauty; and he as handsome as she, and had a blue eye that +would melt any woman--but at sixteen he was a town rake, and such +tricks as this one he hath played since he was a lad. 'Tis well +indeed for this poor thing her ladyship hath seen her. She hath +promised to protect her, and sends her down to Dunstanwolde with her +mother this very week. Would all fine ladies were of her kind. To +hear such things of her puts a man in the humour to do her work +well." + + + +CHAPTER XX--A noble marriage + + + +When the duke came back from France, and to pay his first eager +visit to his bride that was to be, her ladyship's lacqueys led him +not to the Panelled Parlour, but to a room which he had not entered +before, it being one she had had the fancy to have remodelled and +made into a beautiful closet for herself, her great wealth rendering +it possible for her to accomplish changes without the loss of time +the owners of limited purses are subjected to in the carrying out of +plans. This room she had made as unlike the Panelled Parlour as two +rooms would be unlike one another. Its panellings were white, its +furnishings were bright and delicate, its draperies flowered with +rosebuds tied in clusters with love-knots of pink and blue; it had a +large bow-window, through which the sunlight streamed, and it was +blooming with great rose-bowls overrunning with sweetness. + +From a seat in the morning sunshine among the flowers and plants in +the bow-window, there rose a tall figure in a snow-white robe--a +figure like that of a beautiful stately girl who was half an angel. +It was my lady, who came to him with blushing cheeks and radiant +shining eyes, and was swept into his arms in such a passion of love +and blessed tenderness as Heaven might have smiled to see. + +"My love! my love!" he breathed. "My life! my life and soul!" + +"My Gerald!" she cried. "My Gerald--let me say it on your breast a +thousand times!" + +"My wife!" he said--"so soon my wife and all my own until life's +end." + +"Nay, nay," she cried, her cheek pressed to his own, "through all +eternity, for Love's life knows no end." + +As it had seemed to her poor lord who had died, so it seemed to this +man who lived and so worshipped her--that the wonder of her +sweetness was a thing to marvel at with passionate reverence. Being +a man of greater mind and poetic imagination than Dunstanwolde, and +being himself adored by her, as that poor gentleman had not had the +good fortune to be, he had ten thousand-fold the power and reason to +see the tender radiance of her. As she was taller than other women, +so her love seemed higher and greater, and as free from any touch of +earthly poverty of feeling as her beauty was from any flaw. In it +there could be no doubt, no pride; it could be bounded by no limit, +measured by no rule, its depths sounded by no plummet. + +His very soul was touched by her great longing to give to him the +feeling, and to feel herself, that from the hour that she had become +his, her past life was a thing blotted out. + +"I am a new created thing," she said; "until you called me 'Love' I +had no life! All before was darkness. 'Twas you, my Gerald, who +said, 'Let there be light, and there was light.'" + +"Hush, hush, sweet love," he said. "Your words would make me too +near God's self." + +"Sure Love is God," she cried, her hands upon his shoulders, her +face uplifted. "What else? Love we know; Love we worship and kneel +to; Love conquers us and gives us Heaven. Until I knew it, I +believed naught. Now I kneel each night and pray, and pray, but to +be pardoned and made worthy." + +Never before, it was true, had she knelt and prayed, but from this +time no nun in her convent knelt oftener or prayed more ardently, +and her prayer was ever that the past might be forgiven her, the +future blessed, and she taught how to so live that there should be +no faintest shadow in the years to come. + +"I know not What is above me," she said. "I cannot lie and say I +love It and believe, but if there is aught, sure It must be a power +which is great, else had the world not been so strange a thing, and +I--and those who live in it--and if He made us, He must know He is +to blame when He has made us weak or evil. And He must understand +why we have been so made, and when we throw ourselves into the dust +before Him, and pray for help and pardon, surely--surely He will +lend an ear! We know naught, we have been told naught; we have but +an old book which has been handed down through strange hands and +strange tongues, and may be but poor history. We have so little, +and we are threatened so; but for love's sake I will pray the poor +prayers we are given, and for love's sake there is no dust too low +for me to lie in while I plead." + +This was the strange truth--though 'twas not so strange if the world +feared not to admit such things--that through her Gerald, who was +but noble and high-souled man, she was led to bow before God's +throne as the humblest and holiest saint bows, though she had not +learned belief and only had learned love. + +"But life lasts so short a while," she said to Osmonde. "It seems +so short when it is spent in such joy as this; and when the day +comes--for, oh! Gerald, my soul sees it already--when the day comes +that I kneel by your bedside and see your eyes close, or you kneel +by mine, it MUST be that the one who waits behind shall know the +parting is not all." + +"It could not be all, beloved," Osmonde said. "Love is sure, +eternal." + +Often in these blissful hours her way was almost like a child's, she +was so tender and so clinging. At times her beauteous, great eyes +were full of an imploring which made them seem soft with tears, and +thus they were now as she looked up at him. + +"I will do all I can," she said. "I will obey every law, I will +pray often and give alms, and strive to be dutiful and--holy, that +in the end He will not thrust me from you; that I may stay near-- +even in the lowest place, even in the lowest--that I may see your +face and know that you see mine. We are so in His power, He can do +aught with us; but I will so obey Him and so pray that He will let +me in." + +To Anne she went with curious humility, questioning her as to her +religious duties and beliefs, asking her what books she read, and +what services she attended. + +"All your life you have been a religious woman," she said. "I used +to think it folly, but now--" + +"But now--" said Anne. + +"I know not what to think," she answered. "I would learn." + +But when she listened to Anne's simple homilies, and read her +weighty sermons, they but made her restless and unsatisfied. + +"Nay, 'tis not that," she said one day, with a deep sigh. "'Tis +more than that; 'tis deeper, and greater, and your sermons do not +hold it. They but set my brain to questioning and rebellion." + +But a short time elapsed before the marriage was solemnised, and +such a wedding the world of fashion had not taken part in for years, +'twas said. Royalty honoured it; the greatest of the land were +proud to count themselves among the guests; the retainers, +messengers, and company of the two great houses were so numerous +that in the west end of the town the streets wore indeed quite a +festal air, with the passing to and fro of servants and gentlefolk +with favours upon their arms. + +'Twas to the Tower of Camylott, the most beautiful and remote of the +bridegroom's several notable seats, that they removed their +household, when the irksomeness of the extended ceremonies and +entertainments were over--for these they were of too distinguished +rank to curtail as lesser personages might have done. But when all +things were over, the stately town houses closed, and their +equipages rolled out beyond the sight of town into the country +roads, the great duke and his great duchess sat hand in hand, gazing +into each other's eyes with as simple and ardent a joy as they had +been but young 'prentice and country maid, flying to hide from the +world their love. + +"There is no other woman who is so like a queen," Osmonde said, with +tenderest smiling. "And yet your eyes wear a look so young in these +days that they are like a child's. In all their beauty, I have +never seen them so before." + +"It is because I am a new created thing, as I have told you, love," +she answered, and leaned towards him. "Do you not know I never was +a child. I bring myself to you new born. Make of me then what a +woman should be--to be beloved of husband and of God. Teach me, my +Gerald. I am your child and servant." + +'Twas ever thus, that her words when they were such as these were +ended upon his breast as she was swept there by his impassioned arm. +She was so goddess-like and beautiful a being, her life one +strangely dominant and brilliant series of triumphs, and yet she +came to him with such softness and humility of passion, that +scarcely could he think himself a waking man. + +"Surely," he said, "it is a thing too wondrous and too full of joy's +splendour to be true." + +In the golden afternoon, when the sun was deepening and mellowing +towards its setting, they and their retinue entered Camylott. The +bells pealed from the grey belfry of the old church; the villagers +came forth in clean smocks and Sunday cloaks of scarlet, and stood +in the street and by the roadside curtseying and baring their heads +with rustic cheers; little country girls with red cheeks threw +posies before the horses' feet, and into the equipage itself when +they were of the bolder sort. Their chariot passed beneath archways +of flowers and boughs, and from the battlements of the Tower of +Camylott there floated a flag in the soft wind. + +"God save your Graces," the simple people cried. "God give your +Graces joy and long life! Lord, what a beautiful pair they be. And +though her Grace was said to be a proud lady, how sweetly she smiles +at a poor body. God love ye, madam! Madam, God love ye!" + +Her Grace of Osmonde leaned forward in her equipage and smiled at +the people with the face of an angel. + +"I will teach them to love me, Gerald," she said. "I have not had +love enough." + +"Has not all the world loved you?" he said. + +"Nay," she answered, "only you, and Dunstanwolde and Anne." + +Late at night they walked together on the broad terrace before the +Tower. The blue-black vault of heaven above them was studded with +myriads of God's brilliants; below them was spread out the beauty of +the land, the rolling plains, the soft low hills, the forests and +moors folded and hidden in the swathing robe of the night; from the +park and gardens floated upward the freshness of acres of thick +sward and deep fern thicket, the fragrance of roses and a thousand +flowers, the tender sighing of the wind through the huge oaks and +beeches bordering the avenues, and reigning like kings over the +seeming boundless grassy spaces. + +As lovers have walked since the days of Eden they walked together, +no longer duke and duchess, but man and woman--near to Paradise as +human beings may draw until God breaks the chain binding them to +earth; and, indeed, it would seem that such hours are given to the +straining human soul that it may know that somewhere perfect joy +must be, since sometimes the gates are for a moment opened that +Heaven's light may shine through, so that human eyes may catch +glimpses of the white and golden glories within. + +His arm held her, she leaned against him, their slow steps so +harmonising the one with the other that they accorded with the +harmony of music; the nightingales trilling and bubbling in the rose +trees were not affrighted by the low murmur of their voices; +perchance, this night they were so near to Nature that the barriers +were o'erpassed, and they and the singers were akin. + +"Oh! to be a woman," Clorinda murmured. "To be a woman at last. +All other things I have been, and have been called 'Huntress,' +'Goddess,' 'Beauty,' 'Empress,' 'Conqueror,'--but never 'Woman.' +And had our paths not crossed, I think I never could have known what +'twas to be one, for to be a woman one must close with the man who +is one's mate. It must not be that one looks down, or only pities +or protects and guides; and only to a few a mate seems given. And +I--Gerald, how dare I walk thus at your side and feel your heart so +beat near mine, and know you love me, and so worship you--so worship +you--" + +She turned and threw herself upon his breast, which was so near. + +"Oh, woman! woman!" he breathed, straining her close. "Oh, woman +who is mine, though I am but man." + +"We are but one," she said; "one breath, one soul, one thought, and +one desire. Were it not so, I were not woman and your wife, nor you +man and my soul's lover as you are. If it were not so, we were +still apart, though we were wedded a thousand times. Apart, what +are we but like lopped-off limbs; welded together, we are--THIS." +And for a moment they spoke not, and a nightingale on the rose vine, +clambering o'er the terrace's balustrade, threw up its little head +and sang as if to the myriads of golden stars. They stood and +listened, hand in hand, her sweet breast rose and fell, her lovely +face was lifted to the bespangled sky. + +"Of all this," she said, "I am a part, as I am a part of you. To- +night, as the great earth throbs, and as the stars tremble, and as +the wind sighs, so I, being woman, throb and am tremulous and sigh +also. The earth lives for the sun, and through strange mysteries +blooms forth each season with fruits and flowers; love is my sun, +and through its sacredness I may bloom too, and be as noble as the +earth and that it bears." + + + +CHAPTER XXI--An heir is born + + + +In a fair tower whose windows looked out upon spreading woods, and +rich lovely plains stretching to the freshness of the sea, Mistress +Anne had her abode which her duchess sister had given to her for her +own living in as she would. There she dwelt and prayed and looked +on the new life which so beauteously unfolded itself before her day +by day, as the leaves of a great tree unfold from buds and become +noble branches, housing birds and their nests, shading the earth and +those sheltering beneath them, braving centuries of storms. + +To this simile her simple mind oft reverted, for indeed it seemed to +her that naught more perfect and more noble in its high likeness to +pure Nature and the fulfilling of God's will than the passing days +of these two lives could be. + +"As the first two lived--Adam and Eve in their garden of Eden--they +seem to me," she used to say to her own heart; "but the Tree of +Knowledge was not forbidden them, and it has taught them naught +ignoble." + +As she had been wont to watch her sister from behind the ivy of her +chamber windows, so she often watched her now, though there was no +fear in her hiding, only tenderness, it being a pleasure to her full +of wonder and reverence to see this beautiful and stately pair go +lovingly and in high and gentle converse side by side, up and down +the terrace, through the paths, among the beds of flowers, under the +thick branched trees and over the sward's softness. + +"It is as if I saw Love's self, and dwelt with it--the love God's +nature made," she said, with gentle sighs. + +For if these two had been great and beauteous before, it seemed in +these days as if life and love glowed within them, and shone through +their mere bodies as a radiant light shines through alabaster lamps. +The strength of each was so the being of the other that no thought +could take form in the brain of one without the other's stirring +with it. + +"Neither of us dare be ignoble," Osmonde said, "for 'twould make +poor and base the one who was not so in truth." + +"'Twas not the way of my Lady Dunstanwolde to make a man feel that +he stood in church," a frivolous court wit once said, "but in sooth +her Grace of Osmonde has a look in her lustrous eyes which accords +not with scandalous stories and play-house jests." + +And true it was that when they went to town they carried with them +the illumining of the pure fire which burned within their souls, and +bore it all unknowing in the midst of the trivial or designing +world, which knew not what it was that glowed about them, making +things bright which had seemed dull, and revealing darkness where +there had been brilliant glare. + +They returned not to the house which had been my Lord of +Dunstanwolde's, but went to the duke's own great mansion, and there +lived splendidly and in hospitable state. Royalty honoured them, +and all the wits came there, some of those gentlemen who writ verses +and dedications being by no means averse to meeting noble lords and +ladies, and finding in their loves and graces material which might +be useful. 'Twas not only Mr. Addison and Mr. Steele, Dr. Swift and +Mr. Pope, who were made welcome in the stately rooms, but others who +were more humble, not yet having won their spurs, and how these +worshipped her Grace for the generous kindness which was not the +fashion, until she set it, among great ladies, their odes and verses +could scarce express. + +"They are so poor," she said to her husband. "They are so poor, and +yet in their starved souls there is a thing which can less bear +flouting than the dull content which rules in others. I know not +whether 'tis a curse or a boon to be born so. 'Tis a bitter thing +when the bird that flutters in them has only little wings. All the +more should those who are strong protect and comfort them." + +She comforted so many creatures. In strange parts of the town, +where no other lady would have dared to go to give alms, it was +rumoured that she went and did noble things privately. In dark +kennels, where thieves hid and vagrants huddled, she carried her +beauty and her stateliness, the which when they shone on the poor +rogues and victims housed there seemed like the beams of the warm +and golden sun. + +Once in a filthy hovel in a black alley she came upon a poor girl +dying of a loathsome ill, and as she stood by her bed of rags she +heard in her delirium the uttering of one man's name again and +again, and when she questioned those about she found that the +sufferer had been a little country wench enticed to town by this man +for a plaything, and in a few weeks cast off to give birth to a +child in the almshouse, and then go down to the depths of vice in +the kennel. + +"What is the name she says?" her Grace asked the hag nearest to her, +and least maudlin with liquor. "I would be sure I heard it aright." + +"'Tis the name of a gentleman, your ladyship may be sure," the +beldam answered; "'tis always the name of a gentleman. And this is +one I know well, for I have heard more than one poor soul mumbling +it and raving at him in her last hours. One there was, and I knew +her, a pretty rosy thing in her country days, not sixteen, and +distraught with love for him, and lay in the street by his door +praying him to take her back when he threw her off, until the watch +drove her away. And she was so mad with love and grief she killed +her girl child when 'twas born i' the kennel, sobbing and crying +that it should not live to be like her and bear others. And she was +condemned to death, and swung for it on Tyburn Tree. And, Lord! how +she cried his name as she jolted on her coffin to the gallows, and +when the hangman put the rope round her shuddering little fair neck. +'Oh, John,' screams she, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis +God should be forgiven for letting thee to live and me to die like +this.' Aye, 'twas a bitter sight! She was so little and so young, +and so affrighted. The hangman could scarce hold her. I was i' the +midst o' the crowd and cried to her to strive to stand still, +'twould be the sooner over. But that she could not. 'Oh, John,' +she screams, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis God should be +forgiven for letting thee to live and me to die like this!'" + +Till the last hour of the poor creature who lay before her when she +heard this thing, her Grace of Osmonde saw that she was tended, took +her from her filthy hovel, putting her in a decent house and going +to her day by day, until she received her last breath, holding her +hand while the poor wench lay staring up at her beauteous face and +her great deep eyes, whose lustrousness held such power to sustain, +protect, and comfort. + +"Be not afraid, poor soul," she said, "be not afraid. I will stay +near thee. Soon all will end in sleep, and if thou wakest, sure +there will be Christ who died, and wipes all tears away. Hear me +say it to thee for a prayer," and she bent low and said it soft and +clear into the deadening ear, "He wipes all tears away--He wipes all +tears away." + +The great strength she had used in the old days to conquer and +subdue, to win her will and to defend her way, seemed now a power +but to protect the suffering and uphold the weak, and this she did, +not alone in hovels but in the brilliant court and world of fashion, +for there she found suffering and weakness also, all the more bitter +and sorrowful since it dared not cry aloud. The grandeur of her +beauty, the elevation of her rank, the splendour of her wealth would +have made her a protector of great strength, but that which upheld +all those who turned to her was that which dwelt within the high +soul of her, the courage and power of love for all things human +which bore upon itself, as if upon an eagle's outspread wings, the +woes dragging themselves broken and halting upon earth. The +starving beggar in the kennel felt it, and, not knowing wherefore, +drew a longer, deeper breath, as if of purer, more exalted air; the +poor poet in his garret was fed by it, and having stood near or +spoken to her, went back to his lair with lightening eyes and soul +warmed to believe that the words his Muse might speak the world +might stay to hear. + +From the hour she stayed the last moments of John Oxon's victim she +set herself a work to do. None knew it but herself at first, and +later Anne, for 'twas done privately. From the hag who had told her +of the poor girl's hanging upon Tyburn Tree, she learned things by +close questioning, which to the old woman's dull wit seemed but the +curiousness of a great lady, and from others who stood too deep in +awe of her to think of her as a mere human being, she gathered clues +which led her far in the tracing of the evils following one wicked, +heartless life. Where she could hear of man, woman, or child on +whom John Oxon's sins had fallen, or who had suffered wrong by him, +there she went to help, to give light, to give comfort and +encouragement. Strangely, as it seemed to them, and as if done by +the hand of Heaven, the poor tradesmen he had robbed were paid their +dues, youth he had led into evil ways was checked mysteriously and +set in better paths; women he had dragged downward were given aid +and chance of peace or happiness; children he had cast upon the +world, unfathered, and with no prospect but the education of the +gutter, and a life of crime, were cared for by a powerful unseen +hand. The pretty country girl saved by his death, protected by her +Grace, and living innocently at Dunstanwolde, memory being merciful +to youth, forgot him, gained back her young roses, and learned to +smile and hope as though he had been but a name. + +"Since 'twas I who killed him," said her Grace to her inward soul, +"'tis I must live his life which I took from him, and making it +better I may be forgiven--if there is One who dares to say to the +poor thing He made, 'I will not forgive.'" + +Surely it was said there had never been lives so beautiful and noble +as those the Duke of Osmonde and his lady lived as time went by. +The Tower of Camylott, where they had spent the first months of +their wedded life, they loved better than any other of their seats, +and there they spent as much time as their duties of Court and State +allowed them. It was indeed a splendid and beautiful estate, the +stately tower being built upon an eminence, and there rolling out +before it the most lovely land in England, moorland and hills, thick +woods and broad meadows, the edge of the heather dipping to show the +soft silver of the sea. + +Here was this beauteous woman chatelaine and queen, wife of her +husband as never before, he thought, had wife blessed and glorified +the existence of mortal man. All her great beauty she gave to him +in tender, joyous tribute; all her great gifts of mind and wit and +grace it seemed she valued but as they were joys to him; in his +stately households in town and country she reigned a lovely empress, +adored and obeyed with reverence by every man or woman who served +her and her lord. Among the people on his various estates she came +and went a tender goddess of benevolence. When she appeared amid +them in the first months of her wedded life, the humble souls +regarded her with awe not unmixed with fear, having heard such wild +stories of her youth at her father's house, and of her proud state +and bitter wit in the great London world when she had been my Lady +Dunstanwolde; but when she came among them all else was forgotten in +their wonder at her graciousness and noble way. + +"To see her come into a poor body's cottage, so tall and grand a +lady, and with such a carriage as she hath," they said, hobnobbing +together in their talk of her, "looking as if a crown of gold should +sit on her high black head, and then to hear her gentle speech and +see the look in her eyes as if she was but a simple new-married +girl, full of her joy, and her heart big with the wish that all +other women should be as happy as herself, it is, forsooth, a +beauteous sight to see." + +"Ay, and no hovel too poor for her, and no man or woman too sinful," +was said again. + +"Heard ye how she found that poor wench of Haylits lying sobbing +among the fern in the Tower woods, and stayed and knelt beside her +to hear her trouble? The poor soul has gone to ruin at fourteen, +and her father, finding her out, beat her and thrust her from his +door, and her Grace coming through the wood at sunset--it being her +way to walk about for mere pleasure as though she had no coach to +ride in--the girl says she came through the golden glow as if she +had been one of God's angels--and she kneeled and took the poor +wench in her arms--as strong as a man, Betty says, but as soft as a +young mother--and she said to her things surely no mortal lady ever +said before--that she knew naught of a surety of what God's true +will might be, or if His laws were those that have been made by man +concerning marriage by priests saying common words, but that she +surely knew of a man whose name was Christ, and He had taught love +and helpfulness and pity, and for His sake, He having earned our +trust in Him, whether He was God or man, because He hung and died in +awful torture on the Cross--for His sake all of us must love and +help and pity--'I you, poor Betty,' were her very words, 'and you +me.' And then she went to the girl's father and mother, and so +talked to them that she brought them to weeping, and begging Betty +to come home; and also she went to her sweetheart, Tom Beck, and +made so tender a story to him of the poor pretty wench whose love +for him had brought her to such trouble, that she stirred him up to +falling in love again, which is not man's way at such times, and in +a week's time he and Betty went to church together, her Grace +setting them up in a cottage on the estate." + +"I used all my wit and all my tenderest words to make a picture that +would fire and touch him, Gerald," her Grace said, sitting at her +husband's side, in a great window, from which they often watched the +sunset in the valley spread below; "and that with which I am so +strong sometimes--I know not what to call it, but 'tis a power +people bend to, that I know--that I used upon him to waken his dull +soul and brain. Whose fault is it that they are dull? Poor lout, +he was born so, as I was born strong and passionate, and as you were +born noble and pure and high. I led his mind back to the past, when +he had been made happy by the sight of Betty's little smiling, +blushing face, and when he had kissed her and made love in the +hayfields. And this I said--though 'twas not a thing I have learned +from any chaplain--that when 'twas said he should make an honest +woman of her, it was MY thought that she had been honest from the +first, being too honest to know that the world was not so, and that +even the man a woman loved with all her soul, might be a rogue, and +have no honesty in him. And at last--'twas when I talked to him +about the child--and that I put my whole soul's strength in--he +burst out a-crying like a schoolboy, and said indeed she was a fond +little thing and had loved him, and he had loved her, and 'twas a +shame he had so done by her, and he had not meant it at the first, +but she was so simple, and he had been a villain, but if he married +her now, he would be called a fool, and laughed at for his pains. +Then was I angry, Gerald, and felt my eyes flash, and I stood up +tall and spoke fiercely: 'Let them dare,' I said--'let any man or +woman dare, and then will they see what his Grace will say.'" + +Osmonde drew her to his breast, laughing into her lovely eyes. + +"Nay, 'tis not his Grace who need be called on," he said; "'tis her +Grace they love and fear, and will obey; though 'tis the sweetest, +womanish thing that you should call on me when you are power itself, +and can so rule all creatures you come near." + +"Nay," she said, with softly pleading face, "let me not rule. Rule +for me, or but help me; I so long to say your name that they may +know I speak but as your wife." + +"Who is myself," he answered--"my very self." + +"Ay," she said, with a little nod of her head, "that I know--that I +am yourself; and 'tis because of this that one of us cannot be proud +with the other, for there is no other, there is only one. And I am +wrong to say, 'Let me not rule,' for 'tis as if I said, 'You must +not rule.' I meant surely, 'God give me strength to be as noble in +ruling as our love should make me.' But just as one tree is a beech +and one an oak, just as the grass stirs when the summer wind blows +over it, so a woman is a woman, and 'tis her nature to find her joy +in saying such words to the man who loves her, when she loves as I +do. Her heart is so full that she must joy to say her husband's +name as that of one she cannot think without--who is her life as is +her blood and her pulses beating. 'Tis a joy to say your name, +Gerald, as it will be a joy"--and she looked far out across the sun- +goldened valley and plains, with a strange, heavenly sweet smile -- +"as it will be a joy to say our child's--and put his little mouth to +my full breast." + +"Sweet love," he cried, drawing her by the hand that he might meet +the radiance of her look--"heart's dearest!" + +She did not withhold her lovely eyes from him, but withdrew them +from the sunset's mist of gold, and the clouds piled as it were at +the gates of heaven, and they seemed to bring back some of the far- +off glory with them. Indeed, neither her smile nor she seemed at +that moment to be things of earth. She held out her fair, noble +arms, and he sprang to her, and so they stood, side beating against +side. + +"Yes, love," she said--"yes, love--and I have prayed, my Gerald, +that I may give you sons who shall be men like you. But when I give +you women children, I shall pray with all my soul for them--that +they may be just and strong and noble, and life begin for them as it +began not for me." + +* * * + +In the morning of a spring day when the cuckoos cried in the woods, +and May blossomed thick, white and pink, in all the hedges, the +bells in the grey church-steeple at Camylott rang out a joyous, +jangling peal, telling all the village that the heir had been born +at the Tower. Children stopped in their play to listen, men at +their work in field and barn; good gossips ran out of their cottage +door, wiping their arms dry, from their tubs and scrubbing-buckets, +their honest red faces broadening into maternal grins. + +"Ay, 'tis well over, that means surely," one said to the other; "and +a happy day has begun for the poor lady--though God knows she bore +herself queenly to the very last, as if she could have carried her +burden for another year, and blenched not a bit as other women do. +Bless mother and child, say I." + +"And 'tis an heir," said another. "She promised us that we should +know almost as quick as she did, and commanded old Rowe to ring a +peal, and then strike one bell loud between if 'twere a boy, and two +if 'twere a girl child. 'Tis a boy, heard you, and 'twas like her +wit to invent such a way to tell us." + +In four other villages the chimes rang just as loud and merrily, and +the women talked, and blessed her Grace and her young child, and +casks of ale were broached, and oxen roasted, and work stopped, and +dancers footed it upon the green. + +"Surely the new-born thing comes here to happiness," 'twas said +everywhere, "for never yet was woman loved as is his mother." + +In her stately bed her Grace the duchess lay, with the face of the +Mother Mary, and her man-child drinking from her breast. The duke +walked softly up and down, so full of joy that he could not sit +still. When he had entered first, it was his wife's self who had +sate upright in her bed, and herself laid his son within his arms. + +"None other shall lay him there," she said, "I have given him to +you. He is a great child, but he has not taken from me my +strength." + +He was indeed a great child, even at his first hour, of limbs and +countenance so noble that nurses and physicians regarded him amazed. +He was the offspring of a great love, of noble bodies and great +souls. Did such powers alone create human beings, the earth would +be peopled with a race of giants. + +Amid the veiled spring sunshine and the flower-scented silence, +broken only by the twittering of birds nesting in the ivy, her Grace +lay soft asleep, her son resting on her arm, when Anne stole to look +at her and her child. Through the night she had knelt praying in +her chamber, and now she knelt again. She kissed the new-born +thing's curled rose-leaf hand and the lace frill of his mother's +night-rail. She dared not further disturb them. + +"Sure God forgives," she breathed--"for Christ's sake. He would not +give this little tender thing a punishment to bear." + + + +CHAPTER XXII--Mother Anne + + + +There was no punishment. The tender little creature grew as a +blossom grows from bud to fairest bloom. His mother flowered as he, +and spent her days in noble cherishing of him and tender care. Such +motherhood and wifehood as were hers were as fair statues raised to +Nature's self. + +"Once I thought that I was under ban," she said to her lord in one +of their sweetest hours; "but I have been given love and a life, and +so I know it cannot be. Do I fill all your being, Gerald?" + +"All, all!" he cried, "my sweet, sweet woman." + +"Leave I no longing unfulfilled, no duty undone, to you, dear love, +to the world, to human suffering I might aid? I pray Christ with +all passionate humbleness that I may not." + +"He grants your prayer," he answered, his eyes moist with +worshipping tenderness. + +"And this white soul given to me from the outer bounds we know not-- +it has no stain; and the little human body it wakened to life in-- +think you that Christ will help me to fold them in love high and +pure enough, and teach the human body to do honour to its soul? +'Tis not monkish scorn of itself that I would teach the body; it is +so beautiful and noble a thing, and so full of the power of joy. +Surely That which made it--in His own image--would not that it +should despise itself and its own wonders, but do them reverence, +and rejoice in them nobly, knowing all their seasons and their +changes, counting not youth folly, and manhood sinful, or age aught +but gentle ripeness passing onward? I pray for a great soul, and +great wit, and greater power to help this fair human thing to grow, +and love, and live." + +These had been born and had rested hid within her when she lay a +babe struggling 'neath her dead mother's corpse. Through the +darkness of untaught years they had grown but slowly, being so +unfitly and unfairly nourished; but Life's sun but falling on her, +they seemed to strive to fair fruition with her days. + +'Twas not mere love she gave her offspring--for she bore others as +years passed, until she was the mother of four sons and two girls, +children of strength and beauty as noted as her own; she gave them +of her constant thought, and an honour of their humanity such as +taught them reverence of themselves as of all other human things. +Their love for her was such a passion as their father bore her. She +was the noblest creature that they knew; her beauty, her great +unswerving love, her truth, were things bearing to their child eyes +the unchangingness of God's stars in heaven. + +"Why is she not the Queen?" a younger one asked his father once, +having been to London and seen the Court. "The Queen is not so +beautiful and grand as she, and she could so well reign over the +people. She is always just and honourable, and fears nothing." + +From her side Mistress Anne was rarely parted. In her fair retreat +at Camylott she had lived a life all undisturbed by outward things. +When the children were born strange joy came to her. + +"Be his mother also," the duchess had said when she had drawn the +clothes aside to show her first-born sleeping in her arm. "You were +made to be the mother of things, Anne." + +"Nay, or they had been given to me," Anne had answered. + +"Mine I will share with you," her Grace had said, lifting her +Madonna face. "Kiss me, sister--kiss him, too, and bless him. Your +life has been so innocent it must be good that you should love and +guard him." + +'Twas sweet to see the wit she showed in giving to poor Anne the +feeling that she shared her motherhood. She shared her tenderest +cares and duties with her. Together they bathed and clad the child +in the morning, this being their high festival, in which the nurses +shared but in the performance of small duties. Each day they played +with him and laughed as women will at such dear times, kissing his +grand round limbs, crying out at their growth, worshipping his +little rosy feet, and smothering him with caresses. And then they +put him to sleep, Anne sitting close while his mother fed him from +her breast until his small red mouth parted and slowly released her. + +When he could toddle about and was beginning to say words, there was +a morning when she bore him to Anne's tower that they might joy in +him together, as was their way. It was a beautiful thing to see her +walk carrying him in the strong and lovely curve of her arm as if +his sturdy babyhood were of no more weight than a rose, and he +cuddling against her, clinging and crowing, his wide brown eyes +shining with delight. + +"He has come to pay thee court, Anne," she said. "He is a great +gallant, and knows how we are his loving slaves. He comes to say +his new word that I have taught him." + +She set him down where he stood holding to Anne's knee and showing +his new pearl teeth, in a rosy grin; his mother knelt beside him, +beginning her coaxing. + +"Who is she?" she said, pointing with her finger at Anne's face, her +own full of lovely fear lest the child should not speak rightly his +lesson. "What is her name? Mammy's man say--" and she mumbled +softly with her crimson mouth at his ear. + +The child looked up at Anne, with baby wit and laughter in his face, +and stammered sweetly - + +"Muz--Muzzer--Anne," he said, and then being pleased with his +cleverness, danced on his little feet and said it over and over. + +Clorinda caught him up and set him on Anne's lap. + +"Know you what he calls you?" she said. "'Tis but a mumble, his +little tongue is not nimble enough for clearness, but he says it his +pretty best. 'Tis Mother Anne, he says--'tis Mother Anne." + +And then they were in each other's arms, the child between them, he +kissing both and clasping both, with little laughs of joy as if they +were but one creature. + +Each child born they clasped and kissed so, and were so clasped and +kissed by; each one calling the tender unwed woman "Mother Anne," +and having a special lovingness for her, she being the creature each +one seemed to hover about with innocent protection and +companionship. + +The wonder of Anne's life grew deeper to her hour by hour, and where +she had before loved, she learned to worship, for 'twas indeed +worship that her soul was filled with. She could not look back and +believe that she had not dreamed a dream of all the fears gone by +and that they held. This--this was true--the beauty of these days, +the love of them, the generous deeds, the sweet courtesies, and +gentle words spoken. This beauteous woman dwelling in her husband's +heart, giving him all joy of life and love, ruling queenly and +gracious in his house, bearing him noble children, and tending them +with the very genius of tenderness and wisdom. + +But in Mistress Anne herself life had never been strong; she was of +the fibre of her mother, who had died in youth, crushed by its cruel +weight, and to her, living had been so great and terrible a thing. +There had not been given to her the will to battle with the Fate +that fell to her, the brain to reason and disentangle problems, or +the power to set them aside. So while her Grace of Osmonde seemed +but to gain greater state and beauty in her ripening, her sister's +frail body grew more frail, and seemed to shrink and age. Yet her +face put on a strange worn sweetness, and her soft, dull eyes had a +look almost like a saint's who looks at heaven. She prayed much, +and did many charitable works both in town and country. She read +her books of devotion, and went much to church, sitting with a +reverend face through many a dull and lengthy sermon she would have +felt it sacrilegious to think of with aught but pious admiration. +In the middle of the night it was her custom to rise and offer up +prayers through the dark hours. She was an humble soul who greatly +feared and trembled before her God. + +"I waken in the night sometimes," the fair, tall child Daphne said +once to her mother, "and Mother Anne is there--she kneels and prays +beside my bed. She kneels and prays so by each one of us many a +night." + +"'Tis because she is so pious a woman and so loves us," said young +John, in his stately, generous way. The house of Osmonde had never +had so fine and handsome a creature for its heir. He o'ertopped +every boy of his age in height, and the bearing of his lovely +youthful body was masculine grace itself. + +The town and the Court knew these children, and talked of their +beauty and growth as they had talked of their mother's. + +"To be the mate of such a woman, the father of such heirs, is a fate +a man might pray God for," 'twas said. "Love has not grown stale +with them. Their children are the very blossoms of it. Her eyes +are deeper pools of love each year." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--"In One who will do justice, and demands that it +shall be done to each thing He has made, by each who bears His +image" + + + +'Twas in these days Sir Jeoffry came to his end, it being in such +way as had been often prophesied; and when this final hour came, +there was but one who could give him comfort, and this was the +daughter whose youth he had led with such careless evilness to harm. + +If he had wondered at her when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde, as +her Grace of Osmonde he regarded her with heavy awe. Never had she +been able to lead him to visit her at her house in town or at any +other which was her home. "'Tis all too grand for me, your Grace," +he would say; "I am a country yokel, and have hunted and drank, and +lived too hard to look well among town gentlemen. I must be drunk +at dinner, and when I am in liquor I am no ornament to a duchess's +drawing-room. But what a woman you have grown," he would say, +staring at her and shaking his head. "Each time I clap eyes on you +'tis to marvel at you, remembering what a baggage you were, and how +you kept from slipping by the way. There was Jack Oxon, now," he +added one day--"after you married Dunstanwolde, I heard a pretty +tale of Jack--that he had made a wager among his friends in town--he +was a braggart devil, Jack--that he would have you, though you were +so scornful; and knowing him to be a liar, his fellows said that +unless he could bring back a raven lock six feet long to show them, +he had lost his bet, for they would believe no other proof. And +finely they scoffed at him when he came back saying that he had had +one, but had hid it away for safety when he was drunk, and could not +find it again. They so flouted and jeered at him that swords were +drawn, and blood as well. But though he was a beauty and a crafty +rake-hell fellow, you were too sharp for him. Had you not had so +shrewd a wit and strong a will, you would not have been the greatest +duchess in England, Clo, as well as the finest woman." + +"Nay," she answered--"in those days--nay, let us not speak of them! +I would blot them out--out." + +As time went by, and the years spent in drink and debauchery began +to tell even on the big, strong body which should have served any +other man bravely long past his threescore and ten, Sir Jeoffry +drank harder and lived more wildly, sometimes being driven desperate +by dulness, his coarse pleasures having lost their potency. + +"Liquor is not as strong as it once was," he used to grumble, "and +there are fewer things to stir a man to frolic. Lord, what roaring +days and nights a man could have thirty years ago." + +So in his efforts to emulate such nights and days, he plunged deeper +and deeper into new orgies; and one night, after a heavy day's +hunting, sitting at the head of his table with his old companions, +he suddenly leaned forward, staring with starting eyes at an empty +chair in a dark corner. His face grew purple, and he gasped and +gurgled. + +"What is't, Jeoff?" old Eldershawe cried, touching his shoulder with +a shaking hand. "What's the man staring at, as if he had gone mad?" + +"Jack," cried Sir Jeoffry, his eyes still farther starting from +their sockets. "Jack! what say you? I cannot hear." + +The next instant he sprang up, shrieking, and thrusting with his +hands as if warding something off. + +"Keep back!" he yelled. "There is green mould on thee. Where hast +thou been to grow mouldy? Keep back! Where hast thou been?" + +His friends at table started up, staring at him and losing colour; +he shrieked so loud and strangely, he clutched his hair with his +hands, and fell into his chair, raving, clutching, and staring, or +dashing his head down upon the table to hide his face, and then +raising it as if he could not resist being drawn in his affright to +gaze again. There was no soothing him. He shouted, and struggled +with those who would have held him. 'Twas Jack Oxon who was there, +he swore--Jack, who kept stealing slowly nearer to him, his face and +his fine clothes damp and green, he beat at the air with mad hands, +and at last fell upon the floor, and rolled, foaming at the mouth. + +They contrived, after great strugglings, to bear him to his chamber, +but it took the united strength of all who would stay near him to +keep him from making an end of himself. By the dawn of day his boon +companions stood by him with their garments torn to tatters, their +faces drenched with sweat, and their own eyes almost starting from +their sockets; the doctor who had been sent for, coming in no hurry, +but scowled and shook his head when he beheld him. + +"He is a dead man," he said, "and the wonder is that this has not +come before. He is sodden with drink and rotten with ill-living, +besides being past all the strength of youth. He dies of the life +he has lived." + +'Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could desert +their homes and pleasures and tend his horrors longer than a night. +Such a sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful +spirits. + +"Lord," said Sir Chris Crowell, "to see him clutch his flesh and +shriek and mouth, is enough to make a man live sober for his +remaining days," and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder. + +"Ugh!" he said, "God grant I may make a better end. He writhes as +in hell-fire." + +"There is but one on earth who will do aught for him," said +Eldershawe. "'Tis handsome Clo, who is a duchess; but she will come +and tend him, I could swear. Even when she was a lawless devil of a +child she had a way of standing by her friends and fearing naught." + +So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many +hours as it took to drive from London, her coach stood before the +door. By this time all the household was panic-stricken and in +hopeless disorder, the women-servants scattered and shuddering in +far corners of the house; such men as could get out of the way +having found work to do afield or in the kennels, for none had nerve +to stay where they could hear the madman's shrieks and howls. + +Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her +chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom, stripped of her rich +apparel, and clad in a gown of strong blue linen, her hair wound +close, her white hands bare of any ornament, save the band of gold +which was her wedding-ring. A serving-woman might have been clad +so; but the plainness of her garb but made her height, and strength, +so reveal themselves, that the mere sight of her woke somewhat that +was like to awe in the eyes of the servants who beheld her as she +passed. + +She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds, +until she reached the chamber behind whose door they were shut. +Upon the huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed, and tried to tear +himself, his great sinewy and hairy body almost stark. Two of the +stable men were striving to hold him. + +The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong +white hand upon his shuddering shoulder. + +"Father," she said, in a voice so clear, and with such a ring of +steady command, as, the men said later, might have reached a dead +man's ear. "Father, 'tis Clo!" + +Sir Jeoffry writhed his head round and glared at her, with starting +eyes and foaming mouth. + +"Who says 'tis Clo?" he shouted. "'Tis a lie! She was ever a +bigger devil than any other, though she was but a handsome wench. +Jack himself could not manage her. She beat him, and would beat him +now. 'Tis a lie!" + +All through that day and night the power of her Grace's white arm +was the thing which saved him from dashing out his brains. The two +men could not have held him, and at his greatest frenzy they +observed that now and then his blood-shot eye would glance aside at +the beauteous face above him. The sound of the word "Clo" had +struck upon his brain and wakened an echo. + +She sent away the men to rest, calling for others in their places; +but leave the bedside herself she would not. 'Twas a strange thing +to see her strength and bravery, which could not be beaten down. +When the doctor came again he found her there, and changed his surly +and reluctant manner in the presence of a duchess, and one who in +her close linen gown wore such a mien. + +"You should not have left him," she said to him unbendingly, "even +though I myself can see there is little help that can be given. +Thought you his Grace and I would brook that he should die alone if +we could not have reached him?" + +Those words "his Grace and I" put a new face upon the matter, and +all was done that lay within the man's skill; but most was he +disturbed concerning the lady, who would not be sent to rest, and +whose noble consort would be justly angered if she were allowed to +injure her superb health. + +"His Grace knew what I came to do and how I should do it," the +duchess said, unbending still. "But for affairs of State which held +him, he would have been here at my side." + +She held her place throughout the second night, and that was worse +than the first--the paroxysms growing more and more awful; for Jack +was within a yard, and stretched out a green and mouldy hand, the +finger-bones showing through the flesh, the while he smiled awfully. + +At last one pealing scream rang out after another, until after +making his shuddering body into an arc resting on heels and head, +the madman fell exhausted, his flesh all quaking before the eye. +Then the duchess waved the men who helped, away. She sat upon the +bed's edge close--close to her father's body, putting her two firm +hands on either of his shoulders, holding him so, and bent down, +looking into his wild face, as if she fixed upon his very soul all +the power of her wondrous will. + +"Father," she said, "look at my face. Thou canst if thou wilt. +Look at my face. Then wilt thou see 'tis Clo--and she will stand by +thee." + +She kept her gaze upon his very pupils; and though 'twas at first as +if his eyes strove to break away from her look, their effort was +controlled by her steadfastness, and they wandered back at last, and +her great orbs held them. He heaved a long breath, half a big, +broken sob, and lay still, staring up at her. + +"Ay," he said, "'tis Clo! 'tis Clo!" + +The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his +cheeks. He broke forth, wailing like a child. + +"Clo--Clo," he said, "I am in hell." + +She put her hand on his breast, keeping will and eyes set on him. + +"Nay," she answered; "thou art on earth, and in thine own bed, and I +am here, and will not leave thee." + +She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in +wonder at her, but feeling in the very air about her the spell to +which the madness had given way. + +"'Twas not mere human woman who sat there," they said afterwards in +the stables among their fellows. "'Twas somewhat more. Had such a +will been in an evil thing a man's hair would have risen on his +skull at the seeing of it." + +"Go now," she said to them, "and send women to set the place in +order." + +She had seen delirium and death enough in the doings of her deeds of +mercy, to know that his strength had gone and death was coming. His +bed and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, +with all made straight. Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his head +and stare from hollows, and his skin grew grey, but ever he stared +only at his daughter's face. + +"Clo," he said at last, "stay by me! Clo, go not away!" + +"I shall not go," she answered. + +She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand. It lay knotted +and gnarled and swollen-veined upon her smooth palm, and with her +other hand she stroked it. His breath came weak and quick, and fear +grew in his eyes. + +"What is it, Clo?" he said. "What is't?" + +"'Tis weakness," replied she, soothing him. "Soon you will sleep." + +"Ay," he said, with a breath like a sob. "'Tis over." + +His big body seemed to collapse, he shrank so in the bed-clothes. + +"What day o' the year is it?" he asked. + +"The tenth of August," was her answer. + +"Sixty-nine years from this day was I born," he said, "and now 'tis +done." + +"Nay," said she--"nay--God grant--" + +"Ay," he said, "done. Would there were nine and sixty more. What a +man I was at twenty. I want not to die, Clo. I want to live--to +live--live, and be young," gulping, "with strong muscle and moist +flesh. Sixty-nine years--and they are gone!" + +He clung to her hand, and stared at her with awful eyes. Through +all his life he had been but a great, strong, human carcass; and he +was now but the same carcass worn out, and at death's door. Of not +one human thing but of himself had he ever thought, not one creature +but himself had he ever loved--and now he lay at the end, harking +back only to the wicked years gone by. + +"None can bring them back," he shuddered. "Not even thou, Clo, who +art so strong. None--none! Canst pray, Clo?" with the gasp of a +craven. + +"Not as chaplains do," she answered. "I believe not in a God who +clamours but for praise." + +"What dost believe in, then?" + +"In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to +each thing He has made, by each who bears His image--ay, and mercy +too--but justice always, for justice is mercy's highest self." + +Who knows the mysteries of the human soul--who knows the workings of +the human brain? The God who is just alone. In this man's mind, +which was so near a simple beast's in all its movings, some remote, +unborn consciousness was surely reached and vaguely set astir by the +clear words thus spoken. + +"Clo, Clo!" he cried, "Clo, Clo!" in terror, clutching her the +closer, "what dost thou mean? In all my nine and sixty years--" and +rolled his head in agony. + +In all his nine and sixty years he had shown justice to no man, +mercy to no woman, since he had thought of none but Jeoffry +Wildairs; and this truth somehow dimly reached his long-dulled brain +and wakened there. + +"Down on thy knees, Clo!" he gasped--"down on thy knees!" + +It was so horrible, the look struggling in his dying face, that she +went down upon her knees that moment, and so knelt, folding his +shaking hands within her own against her breast. + +"Thou who didst make him as he was born into Thy world," she said, +"deal with that to which Thou didst give life--and death. Show him +in this hour, which Thou mad'st also, that Thou art not Man who +would have vengeance, but that justice which is God." + +"Then--then," he gasped--"then will He damn me!" + +"He will weigh thee," she said; "and that which His own hand created +will He separate from that which was thine own wilful wrong--and +this, sure, He will teach thee how to expiate." + +"Clo," he cried again -"thy mother--she was but a girl, and died +alone--I did no justice to her!--Daphne! Daphne!" And he shook +beneath the bed-clothes, shuddering to his feet, his face growing +more grey and pinched. + +"She loved thee once," Clorinda said. "She was a gentle soul, and +would not forget. She will show thee mercy." + +"Birth she went through," he muttered, "and death--alone. Birth and +death! Daphne, my girl--" And his voice trailed off to +nothingness, and he lay staring at space, and panting. + +The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though at +last he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours later he began to stir. +He turned his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze rested +upon her, as she sat fronting him. 'Twas as though he had awakened +to look at her. + +"Clo!" he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, there was +both wonder and wild question in it--"Clo!" + +But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and +even as they so looked at each other his body stretched itself, his +lids fell--and he was a dead man. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--The doves sate upon the window-ledge and lowly cooed +and cooed + + + +When they had had ten years of happiness, Anne died. 'Twas of no +violent illness, it seemed but that through these years of joy she +had been gradually losing life. She had grown thinner and whiter, +and her soft eyes bigger and more prayerful. 'Twas in the summer, +and they were at Camylott, when one sweet day she came from the +flower-garden with her hands full of roses, and sitting down by her +sister in her morning-room, swooned away, scattering her blossoms on +her lap and at her feet. + +When she came back to consciousness she looked up at the duchess +with a strange, far look, as if her soul had wandered back from some +great distance. + +"Let me be borne to bed, sister," she said. "I would lie still. I +shall not get up again." + +The look in her face was so unearthly and a thing so full of +mystery, that her Grace's heart stood still, for in some strange way +she knew the end had come. + +They bore her to her tower and laid her in her bed, when she looked +once round the room and then at her sister. + +"'Tis a fair, peaceful room," she said. "And the prayers I have +prayed in it have been answered. To-day I saw my mother, and she +told me so." + +"Anne! Anne!" cried her Grace, leaning over her and gazing +fearfully into her face; for though her words sounded like delirium, +her look had no wildness in it. And yet--"Anne, Anne! you wander, +love," the duchess cried. + +Anne smiled a strange, sweet smile. "Perchance I do," she said. "I +know not truly, but I am very happy. She said that all was over, +and that I had not done wrong. She had a fair, young face, with +eyes that seemed to have looked always at the stars of heaven. She +said I had done no wrong." + +The duchess's face laid itself down upon the pillow, a river of +clear tears running down her cheeks. + +"Wrong!" she said--"you! dear one--woman of Christ's heart, if ever +lived one. You were so weak and I so strong, and yet as I look back +it seems that all of good that made me worthy to be wife and mother +I learned from your simplicity." + +Through the tower window and the ivy closing round it, the blueness +of the summer sky was heavenly fair; soft, and light white clouds +floated across the clearness of its sapphire. On this Anne's eyes +were fixed with an uplifted tenderness until she broke her silence. + +"Soon I shall be away," she said. "Soon all will be left behind. +And I would tell you that my prayers were answered--and so, sure, +yours will be." + +No man could tell what made the duchess then fall on her knees, but +she herself knew. 'Twas that she saw in the exalted dying face that +turned to hers concealing nothing more. + +"Anne! Anne!" she cried. "Sister Anne! Mother Anne of my children! +You have known--you have known all the years and kept it hid!" + +She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face +in the coverlid's folds. + +"Ay, sister," Anne said, coming a little back to earth, "and from +the first. I found a letter near the sun-dial--I guessed--I loved +you--and could do naught else but guard you. Many a day have I +watched within the rose-garden--many a day--and night--God pardon +me--and night. When I knew a letter was hid, 'twas my wont to +linger near, knowing that my presence would keep others away. And +when you approached--or he--I slipped aside and waited beyond the +rose hedge--that if I heard a step, I might make some sound of +warning. Sister, I was your sentinel, and being so, knelt while on +my guard, and prayed." + +"My sentinel!" Clorinda cried. "And knowing all, you so guarded me +night and day, and prayed God's pity on my poor madness and girl's +frenzy!" And she gazed at her in amaze, and with humblest, burning +tears. + +"For my own poor self as well as for you, sister, did I pray God's +pity as I knelt," said Anne. "For long I knew it not--being so +ignorant--but alas! I loved him too!--I loved him too! I have +loved no man other all my days. He was unworthy any woman's love-- +and I was too lowly for him to cast a glance on; but I was a woman, +and God made us so." + +Clorinda clutched her pallid hand. + +"Dear God," she cried, "you loved him!" + +Anne moved upon her pillow, drawing weakly, slowly near until her +white lips were close upon her sister's ear. + +"The night," she panted--"the night you bore him--in your arms--" + +Then did the other woman give a shuddering start and lift her head, +staring with a frozen face. + +"What! what!" she cried. + +"Down the dark stairway," the panting voice went on, "to the far +cellar--I kept watch again." + +"You kept watch--you?" the duchess gasped. + +"Upon the stair which led to the servants' place--that I might stop +them if--if aught disturbed them, and they oped their doors--that I +might send them back, telling them--it was I." + +Then stooped the duchess nearer to her, her hands clutching the +coverlid, her eyes widening. + +"Anne, Anne," she cried, "you knew the awful thing that I would +hide! That too? You knew that he was THERE!" + +Anne lay upon her pillow, her own eyes gazing out through the ivy- +hung window of her tower at the blue sky and the fair, fleecy +clouds. A flock of snow-white doves were flying back and forth +across it, and one sate upon the window's deep ledge and cooed. All +was warm and perfumed with summer's sweetness. There seemed naught +between her and the uplifting blueness, and naught of the earth was +near but the dove's deep-throated cooing and the laughter of her +Grace's children floating upward from the garden of flowers below. + +"I lie upon the brink," she said--"upon the brink, sister, and +methinks my soul is too near to God's pure justice to fear as human +things fear, and judge as earth does. She said I did no wrong. +Yes, I knew." + +"And knowing," her sister cried, "you came to me THAT AFTERNOON!" + +"To stand by that which lay hidden, that I might keep the rest away. +Being a poor creature and timorous and weak--" + +"Weak! weak!" the duchess cried, amid a greater flood of streaming +tears--"ay, I have dared to call you so, who have the heart of a +great lioness. Oh, sweet Anne--weak!" + +"'Twas love," Anne whispered. "Your love was strong, and so was +mine. That other love was not for me. I knew that my long woman's +life would pass without it--for woman's life is long, alas! if love +comes not. But you were love's self, and I worshipped you and it; +and to myself I said--praying forgiveness on my knees--that one +woman should know love if I did not. And being so poor and +imperfect a thing, what mattered if I gave my soul for you--and +love, which is so great, and rules the world. Look at the doves, +sister, look at them, flying past the heavenly blueness--and she +said I did no wrong." + +Her hand was wet with tears fallen upon it, as her duchess sister +knelt, and held and kissed it, sobbing. + +"You knew, poor love, you knew!" she cried. + +"Ay, all of it I knew," Anne said--"his torture of you and the +madness of your horror. And when he forced himself within the +Panelled Parlour that day of fate, I knew he came to strike some +deadly blow; and in such anguish I waited in my chamber for the end, +that when it came not, I crept down, praying that somehow I might +come between--and I went in the room!" + +"And there--what saw you?" quoth the duchess, shuddering. "Somewhat +you must have seen, or you could not have known." + +"Ay," said Anne, "and heard!" and her chest heaved. + +"Heard!" cried Clorinda. "Great God of mercy!" + +"The room was empty, and I stood alone. It was so still I was +afraid; it seemed so like the silence of the grave; and then there +came a sound--a long and shuddering breath--but one--and then--" + +The memory brought itself too keenly back, and she fell a-shivering. + +"I heard a slipping sound, and a dead hand fell on the floor-lying +outstretched, its palm turned upwards, showing beneath the valance +of the couch." + +She threw her frail arms round her sister's neck, and as Clorinda +clasped her own, breathing gaspingly, they swayed together. + +"What did you then?" the duchess cried, in a wild whisper. + +"I prayed God keep me sane--and knelt--and looked below. I thrust +it back--the dead hand, saying aloud, 'Swoon you must not, swoon you +must not, swoon you shall not--God help! God help!'--and I saw!-- +the purple mark--his eyes upturned--his fair curls spread; and I +lost strength and fell upon my side, and for a minute lay there-- +knowing that shudder of breath had been the very last expelling of +his being, and his hand had fallen by its own weight." + +"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda cried, and over and over said the +word, and over again. + +"How was't--how was't?" Anne shuddered, clinging to her. "How was't +'twas done? I have so suffered, being weak--I have so prayed! God +will have mercy--but it has done me to death, this knowledge, and +before I die, I pray you tell me, that I may speak truly at God's +throne." + +"O God! O God! O God!" Clorinda groaned--"O God!" and having cried +so, looking up, was blanched as a thing struck with death, her eyes +like a great stag's that stands at bay. + +"Stay, stay!" she cried, with a sudden shock of horror, for a new +thought had come to her which, strangely, she had not had before. +"You thought I MURDERED him?" + +Convulsive sobs heaved Anne's poor chest, tears sweeping her hollow +cheeks, her thin, soft hands clinging piteously to her sister's. + +"Through all these years I have known nothing," she wept--"sister, I +have known nothing but that I found him hidden there, a dead man, +whom you so hated and so feared." + +Her hands resting upon the bed's edge, Clorinda held her body +upright, such passion of wonder, love, and pitying adoring awe in +her large eyes as was a thing like to worship. + +"You thought I MURDERED him, and loved me still," she said. "You +thought I murdered him, and still you shielded me, and gave me +chance to live, and to repent, and know love's highest sweetness. +You thought I murdered him, and yet your soul had mercy. Now do I +believe in God, for only a God could make a heart so noble." + +"And you--did not--" cried out Anne, and raised upon her elbow, her +breast panting, but her eyes growing wide with light as from stars +from heaven. "Oh, sister love--thanks be to Christ who died!" + +The duchess rose, and stood up tall and great, her arms out-thrown. + +"I think 'twas God Himself who did it," she said, "though 'twas I +who struck the blow. He drove me mad and blind, he tortured me, and +thrust to my heart's core. He taunted me with that vile thing +Nature will not let women bear, and did it in my Gerald's name, +calling on him. And then I struck with my whip, knowing nothing, +not seeing, only striking, like a goaded dying thing. He fell--he +fell and lay there--and all was done!" + +"But not with murderous thought--only through frenzy and a cruel +chance--a cruel, cruel chance. And of your own will blood is not +upon your hand," Anne panted, and sank back upon her pillow. + +"With deepest oaths I swear," Clorinda said, and she spoke through +her clenched teeth, "if I had not loved, if Gerald had not been my +soul's life and I his, I would have stood upright and laughed in his +face at the devil's threats. Should I have feared? You know me. +Was there a thing on earth or in heaven or hell I feared until love +rent me. 'Twould but have fired my blood, and made me mad with fury +that dares all. 'Spread it abroad!' I would have cried to him. +'Tell it to all the world, craven and outcast, whose vileness all +men know, and see how I shall bear myself, and how I shall drive +through the town with head erect. As I bore myself when I set the +rose crown on my head, so shall I bear myself then. And you shall +see what comes!' This would I have said, and held to it, and +gloried. But I knew love, and there was an anguish that I could not +endure--that my Gerald should look at me with changed eyes, feeling +that somewhat of his rightful meed was gone. And I was all +distraught and conquered. Of ending his base life I never thought, +never at my wildest, though I had thought to end my own; but when +Fate struck the blow for me, then I swore that carrion should not +taint my whole life through. It should not--should not--for 'twas +Fate's self had doomed me to my ruin. And there it lay until the +night; for this I planned, that being of such great strength for a +woman, I could bear his body in my arms to the farthest of that +labyrinth of cellars I had commanded to be cut off from the rest and +closed; and so I did when all were sleeping--but you, poor Anne--but +you! And there I laid him, and there he lies to-day--an evil thing +turned to a handful of dust." + +"It was not murder," whispered Anne--"no, it was not." She lifted +to her sister's gaze a quivering lip. "And yet once I had loved +him--years I had loved him," she said, whispering still. "And in a +woman there is ever somewhat that the mother creature feels"--the +hand which held her sister's shook as with an ague, and her poor lip +quivered--"Sister, I--saw him again!" + +The duchess drew closer as she gasped, "Again!" + +"I could not rest," the poor voice said. "He had been so base, he +was so beautiful, and so unworthy love--and he was dead,--none +knowing, untouched by any hand that even pitied him that he was so +base a thing, for that indeed is piteous when death comes and none +can be repentant. And he lay so hard, so hard upon the stones." + +Her teeth were chattering, and with a breath drawn like a wild sob +of terror, the duchess threw her arm about her and drew her nearer. + +"Sweet Anne," she shuddered--"sweet Anne--come back--you wander!" + +"Nay, 'tis not wandering," Anne said. "'Tis true, sister. There is +no night these years gone by I have not remembered it again--and +seen. In the night after that you bore him there--I prayed until +the mid-hours, when all were sleeping fast--and then I stole down-- +in my bare feet, that none could hear me--and at last I found my way +in the black dark--feeling the walls until I reached that farthest +door in the stone--and then I lighted my taper and oped it." + +"Anne!" cried the duchess--"Anne, look through the tower window at +the blueness of the sky--at the blueness, Anne!" But drops of cold +water had started out and stood upon her brow. + +"He lay there in his grave--it was a little black place with its +stone walls--his fair locks were tumbled," Anne went on, whispering. +"The spot was black upon his brow--and methought he had stopped +mocking, and surely looked upon some great and awful thing which +asked of him a question. I knelt, and laid his curls straight, and +his hands, and tried to shut his eyes, but close they would not, but +stared at that which questioned. And having loved him so, I kissed +his poor cheek as his mother might have done, that he might not +stand outside, having carried not one tender human thought with him. +And, oh, I prayed, sister--I prayed for his poor soul with all my +own. 'If there is one noble or gentle thing he has ever done +through all his life,' I prayed, 'Jesus remember it--Christ do not +forget.' We who are human do so few things that are noble--oh, +surely one must count." + +The duchess's head lay near her sister's breast, and she had fallen +a-sobbing--a-sobbing and weeping like a young broken child. + +"Oh, brave and noble, pitiful, strong, fair soul!" she cried. "As +Christ loved you have loved, and He would hear your praying. Since +you so pleaded, He would find one thing to hang His mercy on." + +She lifted her fair, tear-streaming face, clasping her hands as one +praying. + +"And I--and I," she cried--"have I not built a temple on his grave? +Have I not tried to live a fair life, and be as Christ bade me? +Have I not loved, and pitied, and succoured those in pain? Have I +not filled a great man's days with bliss, and love, and wifely +worship? Have I not given him noble children, bred in high +lovingness, and taught to love all things God made, even the very +beasts that perish, since they, too, suffer as all do? Have I left +aught undone? Oh, sister, I have so prayed that I left naught. +Even though I could not believe that there was One who, ruling all, +could yet be pitiless as He is to some, I have prayed That--which +sure it seems must be, though we comprehend it not--to teach me +faith in something greater than my poor self, and not of earth. Say +this to Christ's self when you are face to face--say this to Him, I +pray you! Anne, Anne, look not so strangely through the window at +the blueness of the sky, sweet soul, but look at me." + +For Anne lay upon her pillow so smiling that 'twas a strange thing +to behold. It seemed as she were smiling at the whiteness of the +doves against the blue. A moment her sister stood up watching her, +and then she stirred, meaning to go to call one of the servants +waiting outside; but though she moved not her gaze from the tower +window, Mistress Anne faintly spoke. + +"Nay--stay," she breathed. "I go--softly--stay." + +Clorinda fell upon her knees again and bent her lips close to her +ear. This was death, and yet she feared it not--this was the +passing of a soul, and while it went it seemed so fair and loving a +thing that she could ask it her last question--her greatest--knowing +it was so near to God that its answer must be rest. + +"Anne, Anne," she whispered, "must he know--my Gerald? Must I--must +I tell him all? If so I must, I will--upon my knees." + +The doves came flying downward from the blue, and lighted on the +window stone and cooed--Anne's answer was as low as her soft breath +and her still eyes were filled with joy at that she saw but which +another could not. + +"Nay," she breathed. "Tell him not. What need? Wait, and let God +tell him--who understands." + +Then did her soft breath stop, and she lay still, her eyes yet open +and smiling at the blossoms, and the doves who sate upon the window- +ledge and lowly cooed and cooed. + +* * * + +'Twas her duchess sister who clad her for her last sleeping, and +made her chamber fair--the hand of no other touched her; and while +'twas done the tower chamber was full of the golden sunshine, and +the doves ceased not to flutter about the window, and coo as if they +spoke lovingly to each other of what lay within the room. + +Then the children came to look, their arms full of blossoms and +flowering sprays. They had been told only fair things of death, and +knowing but these fair things, thought of it but as the opening of a +golden door. They entered softly, as entering the chamber of a +queen, and moving tenderly, with low and gentle speech, spread all +their flowers about the bed--laying them round her head, on her +breast, and in her hands, and strewing them thick everywhere. + +"She lies in a bower and smiles at us," one said. "She hath grown +beautiful like you, mother, and her face seems like a white star in +the morning." + +"She loves us as she ever did," the fair child Daphne said; "she +will never cease to love us, and will be our angel. Now have we an +angel of our own." + +When the duke returned, who had been absent since the day before, +the duchess led him to the tower chamber, and they stood together +hand in hand and gazed at her peace. + +"Gerald," the duchess said, in her tender voice, "she smiles, does +not she?" + +"Yes," was Osmonde's answer--"yes, love, as if at God, who has +smiled at herself--faithful, tender woman heart!" + +The hand which he held in his clasp clung closer. The other crept +to his shoulder and lay there tremblingly. + +"How faithful and how tender, my Gerald," Clorinda said, "I only +know. She is my saint--sweet Anne, whom I dared treat so lightly in +my poor wayward days. Gerald, she knows all my sins, and to-day she +has carried them in her pure hands to God and asked His mercy on +them. She had none of her own." + +"And so having done, dear heart, she lies amid her flowers, and +smiles," he said, and he drew her white hand to press it against his +breast. + +* * * + +While her body slept beneath soft turf and flowers, and that which +was her self was given in God's heaven, all joys for which her +earthly being had yearned, even when unknowing how to name its +longing, each year that passed made more complete and splendid the +lives of those she so had loved. Never, 'twas said, had woman done +such deeds of gentleness and shown so sweet and generous a wisdom as +the great duchess. None who were weak were in danger if she used +her strength to aid them; no man or woman was a lost thing whom she +tried to save: such tasks she set herself as no lady had ever given +herself before; but 'twas not her way to fail--her will being so +powerful, her brain so clear, her heart so purely noble. Pauper and +prince, noble and hind honoured her and her lord alike, and all felt +wonder at their happiness. It seemed that they had learned life's +meaning and the honouring of love, and this they taught to their +children, to the enriching of a long and noble line. In the +ripeness of years they passed from earth in as beauteous peace as +the sun sets, and upon a tablet above the resting-place of their +ancestors there are inscribed lines like these:- + + +"Here sleeps by her husband the purest and noblest lady God e'er +loved, yet the high and gentle deeds of her chaste sweet life sleep +not, but live and grow, and so will do so long as earth is earth." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext A Lady of Quality by Francis H. Burnett + diff --git a/old/ladyq10.zip b/old/ladyq10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7296bbf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ladyq10.zip |