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diff --git a/2702-h/2702-h.htm b/2702-h/2702-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1848595 --- /dev/null +++ b/2702-h/2702-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12523 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Lion's Skin, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion's Skin, by Rafael Sabatini + +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: The Lion's Skin + +Author: Rafael Sabatini + +Release Date: December 23, 2008 [EBook #2702] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S SKIN *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE LION'S SKIN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>THE LION'S SKIN</b></big> </a> + <br /><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE + FANATIC <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> AT + THE “ADAM AND EVE” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + WITNESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> Mr. + GREEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> MOONSHINE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> HORTENSIA'S + RETURN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> FATHER + AND SON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> TEMPTATION + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + CHAMPION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> SPURS + TO THE RELUCTANT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE + ASSAULT-AT-ARMS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> SUNSHINE + AND SHADOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + FORLORN HOPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> LADY + OSTERMORE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> LOVE + AND RAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> MR. + GREEN EXECUTES HIS WARRANT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> AMID THE GRAVES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> THE GHOST OF THE PAST <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE END OF LORD + OSTERMORE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> Mr. + CARYLL'S IDENTITY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + LION'S SKIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE + HUNTERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE + LION <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE LION'S SKIN + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE FANATIC + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, lately from Rome, stood by the window, looking out over the + rainswept, steaming quays to Notre Dame on the island yonder. Overhead + rolled and crackled the artillery of an April thunderstorm, and Mr. + Caryll, looking out upon Paris in her shroud of rain, under her pall of + thundercloud, felt himself at harmony with Nature. Over his heart, too, + the gloom of storm was lowering, just as in his heart it was still little + more than April time. + </p> + <p> + Behind him, in that chamber furnished in dark oak and leather of a reign + or two ago, sat Sir Richard Everard at a vast writing-table all a-litter + with books and papers; and Sir Richard watched his adoptive son with + fierce, melancholy eyes, watched him until he grew impatient of this + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” demanded the old baronet harshly. “Will you undertake it, Justin, + now that the chance has come?” And he added: “You'll never hesitate if you + are the man I have sought to make you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll turned slowly. “It is because I am the man that you—that + God and you—have made me that I do hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + His voice was quiet and pleasantly modulated, and he spoke English with + the faintest slur—perceptible, perhaps, only to the keenest ear—of + a French accent. To ears less keen it would merely seem that he + articulated with a precision so singular as to verge on pedantry. + </p> + <p> + The light falling full upon his profile revealed the rather singular + countenance that was his own. It was not in any remarkable beauty that its + distinction lay, for by the canons of beauty that prevail it was not + beautiful. The features were irregular and inclined to harshness, the nose + was too abruptly arched, the chin too long and square, the complexion too + pallid. Yet a certain dignity haunted that youthful face, of such a + quality as to stamp it upon the memory of the merest passer-by. The mouth + was difficult to read and full of contradictions; the lips were full and + red, and you would declare them the lips of a sensualist but for the line + of stern, almost grim, determination in which they met; and yet, somewhere + behind that grimness, there appeared to lurk a haunting whimsicality; a + smile seemed ever to impend, but whether sweet or bitter none could have + told until it broke. The eyes were as remarkable; wide-set and + slow-moving, as becomes the eyes of an observant man, they were of an + almost greenish color, and so level in their ordinary glance as to seem + imbued with an uncanny penetration. His hair—he dared to wear his + own, and clubbed it in a broad ribbon of watered silk—was almost of + the hue of bronze, with here and there a glint of gold, and as luxuriant + as any wig. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, he was scarcely above the middle height, of an almost frail + but very graceful slenderness, and very graceful, too, in all his + movements. In dress he was supremely elegant, with the elegance of France, + that in England would be accounted foppishness. He wore a suit of dark + blue cloth, with white satin linings that were revealed when he moved; it + was heavily laced with gold, and a ramiform pattern broidered in gold + thread ran up the sides of his silk stockings of a paler blue. Jewels + gleamed in the Brussels at his throat, and there were diamond buckles on + his lacquered, red-heeled shoes. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard considered him with anxiety and some chagrin. “Justin!” he + cried, a world of reproach in his voice. “What can you need to ponder?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever it may be,” said Mr. Caryll, “it will be better that I ponder it + now than after I have pledged myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it? What?” demanded the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “I am marvelling, for one thing, that you should have waited thirty + years.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard's fingers stirred the papers before him in an idle, absent + manner. Into his brooding eyes there leapt the glitter to be seen in the + eyes of the fevered of body or of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance,” said he slowly, “is a dish best relished when 'tis eaten + cold.” He paused an instant; then continued: “I might have crossed to + England at the time, and slain him. Should that have satisfied me? What is + death but peace and rest?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a hell, we are told,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” was the answer, “we are told. But I dursn't risk its being false + where Ostermore is concerned. So I preferred to wait until I could brew + him such a cup of bitterness as no man ever drank ere he was glad to die.” + In a quieter, retrospective voice he continued: “Had we prevailed in the + '15, I might have found a way to punish him that had been worthy of the + crime that calls for it. We did not prevail. Moreover, I was taken, and + transported. + </p> + <p> + “What think you, Justin, gave me courage to endure the rigors of the + plantations, cunning and energy to escape after five such years of it as + had assuredly killed a stronger man less strong of purpose? What but the + task that was awaiting me? It imported that I should live and be free to + call a reckoning in full with my Lord Ostermore before I go to my own + account. + </p> + <p> + “Opportunity has gone lame upon this journey. But it has arrived at last. + Unless—” He paused, his voice sank from the high note of exaltation + to which it had soared; it became charged with dread, as did the fierce + eyes with which he raked his companion's face. “Unless you prove false to + the duty that awaits you. And that I'll not believe! You are your mother's + son, Justin.” + </p> + <p> + “And my father's, too,” answered Justin in a thick voice; “and the Earl of + Ostermore is that same father.” + </p> + <p> + “The more sweetly shall your mother be avenged,” cried the other, and + again his eyes blazed with that unhealthy, fanatical light. “What fitter + than the hand of that poor lady's son to pull your father down in ruins?” + He laughed short and fiercely. “It seldom chances in this world that + justice is done so nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “You hate him very deeply,” said Mr. Caryll pensively, and the look in his + eyes betrayed the trend of his thoughts; they were of pity—but of + pity at the futility of such strong emotions. + </p> + <p> + “As deeply as I loved your mother, Justin.” The sharp, rugged features of + that seared old face seemed of a sudden transfigured and softened. The + wild eyes lost some of their glitter in a look of wistfulness, as he + pondered a moment the one sweet memory in a wasted life, a life wrecked + over thirty years ago—wrecked wantonly by that same Ostermore of + whom they spoke, who had been his friend. + </p> + <p> + A groan broke from his lips. He took his head in his hands, and, elbows on + the table, he sat very still a moment, reviewing as in a flash the events + of thirty and more years ago, when he and Viscount Rotherby—as + Ostermore was then—had been young men at the St. Germain's Court of + James II. + </p> + <p> + It was on an excursion into Normandy that they had met Mademoiselle de + Maligny, the daughter of an impoverished gentleman of the chetive noblesse + of that province. Both had loved her. She had preferred—as women + will—the outward handsomeness of Viscount Rotherby to the sounder + heart and brain that were Dick Everard's. As bold and dominant as any + ruffler of them all where men and perils were concerned, young Everard was + timid, bashful and without assertiveness with women. He had withdrawn from + the contest ere it was well lost, leaving an easy victory to his friend. + </p> + <p> + And how had that friend used it? Most foully, as you shall learn. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Rotherby in Normandy, Everard had returned to Paris. The affairs + of his king gave him cause to cross at once to Ireland. For three years he + abode there, working secretly in his master's interest, to little purpose + be it confessed. At the end of that time he returned to Paris. Rotherby + was gone. It appeared that his father, Lord Ostermore, had prevailed upon + Bentinck to use his influence with William on the errant youth's behalf. + Rotherby had been pardoned his loyalty to the fallen dynasty. A deserter + in every sense, he had abandoned the fortunes of King James—which in + Everard's eyes was bad enough—and he had abandoned the sweet lady he + had fetched out of Normandy six months before his going, of whom it seemed + that in his lordly way he was grown tired. + </p> + <p> + From the beginning it would appear they were ill-matched. It was her + beauty had made appeal to him, even as his beauty had enamoured her. + Elementals had brought about their union; and when these elementals shrank + with habit, as elementals will, they found themselves without a tie of + sympathy or common interest to link them each to the other. She was by + nature blythe; a thing of sunshine, flowers and music, who craved a very + poet for her lover; and by “a poet” I mean not your mere rhymer. He was + downright stolid and stupid under his fine exterior; the worst type of + Briton, without the saving grace of a Briton's honor. And so she had + wearied him, who saw in her no more than a sweet loveliness that had + cloyed him presently. And when the chance was offered him by Bentinck and + his father, he took it and went his ways, and this sweet flower that he + had plucked from its Normandy garden to adorn him for a brief summer's day + was left to wilt, discarded. + </p> + <p> + The tale that greeted Everard on his return from Ireland was that, + broken-hearted, she had died—crushed neath her load of shame. For it + was said that there had been no marriage. + </p> + <p> + The rumor of her death had gone abroad, and it had been carried to England + and my Lord Rotherby by a cousin of hers—the last living Maligny—who + crossed the channel to demand of that stolid gentleman satisfaction for + the dishonor put upon his house. All the satisfaction the poor fellow got + was a foot or so of steel through the lungs, of which he died; and there, + may it have seemed to Rotherby, the matter ended. + </p> + <p> + But Everard remained—Everard, who had loved her with a great and + almost sacred love; Everard, who swore black ruin for my Lord Rotherby—the + rumor of which may also have been carried to his lordship and stimulated + his activities in having Everard hunted down after the Braemar fiasco of + 1715. + </p> + <p> + But before that came to pass Everard had discovered that the rumor of her + death was false—put about, no doubt, out of fear of that same cousin + who had made himself champion and avenger of her honor. Everard sought her + out, and found her perishing of want in an attic in the Cour des Miracles + some four months later—eight months after Rotherby's desertion. + </p> + <p> + In that sordid, wind-swept chamber of Paris' most abandoned haunt, a son + had been born to Antoinette de Maligny two days before Everard had come + upon her. Both were dying; both had assuredly died within the week but + that he came so timely to her aid. And that aid he rendered like the + noble-hearted gentleman he was. He had contrived to save his fortune from + the wreck of James' kingship, and this was safely invested in France, in + Holland and elsewhere abroad. With a portion of it he repurchased the + chateau and estates of Maligny, which on the death of Antoinette's father + had been seized upon by creditors. + </p> + <p> + Thither he sent her and her child—Rotherby's child—making that + noble domain a christening-gift to the boy, for whom he had stood sponsor + at the font. And he did his work of love in the background. He was the god + in the machine; no more. No single opportunity of thanking him did he + afford her. He effaced himself that she might not see the sorrow she + occasioned him, lest it should increase her own. + </p> + <p> + For two years she dwelt at Maligny in such peace as the broken-hearted may + know, the little of life that was left her irradiated by Everard's noble + friendship. He wrote to her from time to time, now from Italy, now from + Holland. But he never came to visit her. A delicacy, which may or may not + have been false, restrained him. And she, respecting what instinctively + she knew to be his feelings, never bade him come to her. In their letters + they never spoke of Rotherby; not once did his name pass between them; it + was as if he had never lived or never crossed their lives. Meanwhile she + weakened and faded day by day, despite all the care with which she was + surrounded. That winter of cold and want in the Cour des Miracles had sown + its seeds, and Death was sharpening his scythe against the harvest. + </p> + <p> + When the end was come she sent urgently for Everard. He came at once in + answer to her summons; but he came too late. She died the evening before + he arrived. But she had left a letter, written days before, against the + chance of his not reaching her before the end. That letter, in her fine + French hand, was before him now. + </p> + <p> + “I will not try to thank you, dearest friend,” she wrote. “For the thing + that you have done, what payment is there in poor thanks? Oh, Everard, + Everard! Had it but pleased God to have helped me to a wiser choice when + it was mine to choose!” she cried to him from that letter, and poor + Everard deemed that the thin ray of joy her words sent through his + anguished soul was payment more than enough for the little that he had + done. “God's will be done!” she continued. “It is His will. He knows why + it is best so, though we discern it not. But there is the boy; there is + Justin. I bequeath him to you who already have done so much for him. Love + him a little for my sake; cherish and rear him as your own, and make of + him such a gentleman as are you. His father does not so much as know of + his existence. That, too, is best so, for I would not have him claim my + boy. Never let him learn that Justin exists, unless it be to punish him by + the knowledge for his cruel desertion of me.” + </p> + <p> + Choking, the writing blurred by tears that he accounted no disgrace to his + young manhood, Everard had sworn in that hour that Justin should be as a + son to him. He would do her will, and he set upon it a more definite + meaning than she intended. Rotherby should remain in ignorance of his + son's existence until such season as should make the knowledge a very + anguish to him. He would rear Justin in bitter hatred of the foul villain + who had been his father; and with the boy's help, when the time should be + ripe, he would lay my Lord Rotherby in ruins. Thus should my lord's sin + come to find him out. + </p> + <p> + This Everard had sworn, and this he had done. He had told Justin the story + almost as soon as Justin was of an age to understand it. He had repeated + it at very frequent intervals, and as the lad grew, Everard watched in him—fostering + it by every means in his power—the growth of his execration for the + author of his days, and of his reverence for the sweet, departed saint + that had been his mother. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, he had lavished Justin nobly for his mother's sake. The + repurchased estates of Maligny, with their handsome rent roll, remained + Justin's own, administered by Sir Richard during the lad's minority and + vastly enriched by the care of that administration. He had sent the lad to + Oxford, and afterwards—the more thoroughly to complete his education—on + a two years' tour of Europe; and on his return, a grown and cultured man, + he had attached him to the court in Rome of the Pretender, whose agent he + was himself in Paris. + </p> + <p> + He had done his duty by the boy as he understood his duty, always with + that grim purpose of revenge for his horizon. And the result had been a + stranger compound than even Everard knew, for all that he knew the lad + exceedingly well. For he had scarcely reckoned sufficiently upon Justin's + mixed nationality and the circumstance that in soul and mind he was + entirely his mother's child, with nothing—or an imperceptible little—of + his father. As his mother's nature had been, so was Justin's—joyous. + But Everard's training of him had suppressed all inborn vivacity. The + mirth and diablerie that were his birthright had been overlaid with + British phlegm, until in their stead, and through the blend, a certain + sardonic humor had developed, an ironical attitude toward all things + whether sacred or profane. This had been helped on by culture, and—in + a still greater measure—by the odd training in worldliness which he + had from Everard. His illusions were shattered ere he had cut his wisdom + teeth, thanks to the tutelage of Sir Richard, who in giving him the ugly + story of his own existence, taught him the misanthropical lesson that all + men are knaves, all women fools. He developed, as a consequence, that + sardonic outlook upon the world. He sought to take vos non vobis for his + motto, affected to a spectator in the theatre of Life, with the obvious + result that he became the greatest actor of them all. + </p> + <p> + So we find him even now, his main emotion pity for Sir Richard, who sat + silent for some moments, reviewing that thirty-year dead past, until the + tears scalded his old eyes. The baronet made a queer noise in his throat, + something between a snarl and a sob, and he flung himself suddenly back in + his chair. + </p> + <p> + Justin sat down, a becoming gravity in his countenance. “Tell me all,” he + begged his adoptive father. “Tell me how matters stand precisely—how + you propose to act.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” the baronet assented. “Lord Ostermore, having turned + his coat once for profit, is ready now to turn it again for the same end. + From the information that reaches me from England, it would appear that in + the rage of speculation that has been toward in London, his lordship has + suffered heavily. How heavily I am not prepared to say. But heavily + enough, I dare swear, to have caused this offer to return to his king; for + he looks, no doubt, to sell his services at a price that will help him + mend the wreckage of his fortunes. A week ago a gentleman who goes between + his majesty's court at Rome and his friends here in Paris brought me word + from his majesty that Ostermore had signified to him his willingness to + rejoin the Stuart cause. + </p> + <p> + “Together with that information, this messenger brought me letters from + his majesty to several of his friends, which I was to send to England by a + safe hand at the first opportunity. Now, amongst these letters—delivered + to me unsealed—is one to my Lord Ostermore, making him certain + advantageous proposals which he is sure to accept if his circumstances be + as crippled as I am given to understand. Atterbury and his friends, it + seems, have already tampered with my lord's loyalty to Dutch George to + some purpose, and there is little doubt but that this letter”—and he + tapped a document before him—“will do what else is to be done. + </p> + <p> + “But, since these letters were left with me, come you with his majesty's + fresh injunctions that I am to suppress them and cross to England at once + myself, to prevail upon Atterbury and his associates to abandon the + undertaking.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll nodded. “Because, as I have told you,” said he, “King James in + Rome has received positive information that in London the plot is already + suspected, little though Atterbury may dream it. But what has this to do + with my Lord Ostermore?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Everard slowly, leaning across toward Justin, and laying a + hand upon his sleeve. “I am to counsel the Bishop to stay his hand against + a more favorable opportunity. There is no reason why you should not do the + very opposite with Ostermore.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll knit his brows, his eyes intent upon the other's face; but he + said no word. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” urged Everard, “an opportunity such as there may never be + another. We destroy Ostermore. By a turn of the hand we bring him to the + gallows.” He chuckled over the word with a joy almost diabolical. + </p> + <p> + “But how—how do we destroy him?” quoth Justin, who suspected yet + dared not encourage his suspicions. + </p> + <p> + “How? Do you ask how? Is't not plain?” snapped Sir Richard, and what he + avoided putting into words, his eloquent glance made clear to his + companion. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll rose a thought quickly, a faint flush stirring in his cheeks, + and he threw off Everard's grasp with a gesture that was almost of + repugnance. “You mean that I am to enmesh him....” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard smiled grimly. “As his majesty's accredited agent,” he + explained. “I will equip you with papers. Word shall go ahead of you to + Ostermore by a safe hand to bid him look for the coming of a messenger + bearing his own family name. No more than that; nothing that can betray + us; yet enough to whet his lordship's appetite. You shall be the + ambassador to bear him the tempting offers from the king. You will obtain + his answers—accepting. Those you will deliver to me, and I shall do + the trifle that may still be needed to set the rope about his neck.” + </p> + <p> + A little while there was silence. Outside, the rain, driven by gusts, + smote the window as with a scourge. The thunder was grumbling in the + distance now. Mr. Caryll resumed his chair. He sat very thoughtful, but + with no emotion showing in his face. British stolidity was in the + ascendant with him then. He felt that he had the need of it. + </p> + <p> + “It is... ugly,” he said at last slowly. + </p> + <p> + “It is God's own will,” was the hot answer, and Sir Richard smote the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Has God taken you into His confidence?” wondered Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “I know that God is justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet is it not written that 'vengeance is His own'?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, but He needs human instruments to execute it. Such instruments are + we. Can you—Oh, can you hesitate?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll clenched his hands hard. “Do it,” he answered through set + teeth. “Do it! I shall approve it when 'tis done. But find other hands for + the work, Sir Richard. He is my father.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard remained cool. “That is the argument I employ for insisting + upon the task being yours,” he replied. Then, in a blaze of passion, he—who + had schooled his adoptive son so ably in self-control—marshalled + once more his arguments. “It is your duty to your mother to forget that he + is your father. Think of him only as the man who wronged your mother; the + man to whom her ruined life, her early death are due—her murderer + and worse. Consider that. Your father, you say!” He mocked almost. “Your + father! In what is he your father? You have never seen him; he does not + know that you exist, that you ever existed. Is that to be a father? + Father, you say! A word, a name—no more than that; a name that gives + rise to a sentiment, and a sentiment is to stand between you and your + clear duty; a sentiment is to set a protecting shield over the man who + killed your mother! + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall despise you, Justin, if you fail me in this. I have lived + for it,” he ran on tempestuously. “I have reared you for it, and you shall + not fail me!” + </p> + <p> + Then his voice dropped again, and in quieter tones + </p> + <p> + “You hate the very name of John Caryll, Earl of Ostermore,” said he, “as + must every decent man who knows the truth of what the life of that satyr + holds. If I have suffered you to bear his name, it is to the end that it + should remind you daily that you have no right to it, that you have no + right to any name.” + </p> + <p> + When he said that he thrust his finger consciously into a raw wound. He + saw Justin wince, and with pitiless cunning he continued to prod that + tender place until he had aggravated the smart of it into a very agony. + </p> + <p> + “That is what you owe your father; that is the full extent of what lies + between you—that you are of those at whom the world is given to + sneer and point scorn's ready finger.” + </p> + <p> + “None has ever dared,” said Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Because none has ever known. We have kept the secret well. You display no + coat of arms that no bar sinister may be displayed. But the time may come + when the secret must out. You might, for instance, think of marrying a + lady of quality, a lady of your own supposed station. What shall you tell + her of yourself? That you have no name to offer her; that the name you + bear is yours by assumption only? Ah! That brings home your own wrongs to + you, Justin! Consider them; have them ever present in your mind, together + with your mother's blighted life, that you may not shrink when the hour + strikes to punish the evildoer.” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself back in his chair again, and watched the younger man with + brooding eye. Mr. Caryll was plainly moved. He had paled a little, and he + sat now with brows contracted and set teeth. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard pushed back his chair and rose, recapitulating. “He is your + mother's destroyer,” he said, with a sad sternness. “Is the ruin of that + fair life to go unpunished? Is it, Justin?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll's Gallic spirit burst abruptly through its British glaze. He + crushed fist into palm, and swore: “No, by God! It shall not, Sir + Richard!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard held out his hands, and there was a fierce joy in his gloomy + eyes at last. “You'll cross to England with me, Justin?” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Caryll's soul fell once more into travail. “Wait!” he cried. “Ah, + wait!” His level glance met Sir Richard's in earnestness and entreaty. + “Answer me the truth upon your soul and conscience: Do you in your heart + believe that it is what my mother would have had me do?” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant's pause. Then Everard, the fanatic of vengeance, the + man whose mind upon that one subject was become unsound with excess of + brooding, answered with conviction: “As I have a soul to be saved, Justin, + I do believe it. More—I know it. Here!” Trembling hands took up the + old letter from the table and proffered it to Justin. “Here is her own + message to you. Read it again.” + </p> + <p> + And what time the young man's eyes rested upon that fine, pointed writing, + Sir Richard recited aloud the words he knew by heart, the words that had + been ringing in his ears since that day when he had seen her lowered to + rest: “'Never let him learn that Justin exists unless it be to punish him + by the knowledge for his cruel desertion of me.' It is your mother's voice + speaking to you from the grave,” the fanatic pursued, and so infected + Justin at last with something of his fanaticism. + </p> + <p> + The green eyes flashed uncannily, the white young face grew cruelly + sardonic. “You believe it?” he asked, and the eagerness that now invested + his voice showed how it really was with him. + </p> + <p> + “As I have a soul to be saved,” Sir Richard repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Then gladly will I set my hand to it.” Fire stirred through Justin now, a + fire of righteous passion. “An idea—no more than an idea—daunted + me. You have shown me that. I cross to England with you, Sir Richard, and + let my Lord Ostermore look to himself, for my name—I who have no + right to any name—my name is judgment!” + </p> + <p> + The exaltation fell from him as suddenly as it had mounted. He dropped + into a chair, thoughtful again and slightly ashamed of his sudden + outburst. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard Everard watched with an eye of gloomy joy the man whom he had + been at such pains to school in self-control. + </p> + <p> + Overhead there was a sudden crackle of thunder, sharp and staccato as a + peal of demoniac laughter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. AT THE “ADAM AND EVE” + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, alighted from his traveling chaise in the yard of the “Adam + and Eve,” at Maidstone, on a sunny afternoon in May. Landed at Dover the + night before, he had parted company with Sir Richard Everard that morning. + His adoptive father had turned aside toward Rochester, to discharge his + king's business with plotting Bishop Atterbury, what time Justin was to + push on toward town as King James' ambassador to the Earl of Ostermore, + who, advised of his coming, was expecting him. + </p> + <p> + Here at Maidstone it was Mr. Caryll's intent to dine, resuming his journey + in the cool of the evening, when he hoped to get at least as far as + Farnborough ere he slept. + </p> + <p> + Landlady, chamberlain, ostler and a posse of underlings hastened to give + welcome to so fine a gentleman, and a private room above-stairs was placed + at his disposal. Before ascending, however, Mr. Caryll sauntered into the + bar for a whetting glass to give him an appetite, and further for the + purpose of bespeaking in detail his dinner with the hostess. It was one of + his traits that he gave the greatest attention to detail, and held that + the man who left the ordering of his edibles to his servants was no better + than an animal who saw no more than nourishment in food. Nor was the + matter one to be settled summarily; it asked thought and time. So he + sipped his Hock, listening to the landlady's proposals, and amending them + where necessary with suggestions of his own, and what time he was so + engaged, there ambled into the inn yard a sturdy cob bearing a sturdy + little man in snuff-colored clothes that had seen some wear. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer threw his reins to the stable-boy—a person of all the + importance necessary to receive so indifferent a guest. He got down nimbly + from his horse, produced an enormous handkerchief of many colors, and + removed his three-cornered hat that he might the better mop his brow and + youthful, almost cherubic face. What time he did so, a pair of bright + little blue eyes were very busy with Mr. Caryll's carriage, from which + Leduc, Mr. Caryll's valet, was in the act of removing a portmantle. His + mobile mouth fell into lines of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Still mopping himself, he entered the inn, and, guided by the drone of + voices, sauntered into the bar. At sight of Mr. Caryll leaning there, his + little eyes beamed an instant, as do the eyes of one who espies a friend, + or—apter figure—the eyes of the hunter when they sight the + quarry. + </p> + <p> + He advanced to the bar, bowing to Mr. Caryll with an air almost + apologetic, and to the landlady with an air scarcely less so, as he asked + for a nipperkin of ale to wash the dust of the road from his throat. The + hostess called a drawer to serve him, and departed herself upon the + momentous business of Mr. Caryll's dinner. + </p> + <p> + “A warm day, sir,” said the chubby man. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely, and finished his glass, the other + sipping meanwhile at his ale. + </p> + <p> + “A fine brew, sir,” said he. “A prodigious fine brew! With all respect, + sir, your honor should try a whet of our English ale.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, setting down his glass, looked languidly at the man. “Why do + you exclude me, sir, from the nation of this beverage?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The chubby man's face expressed astonishment. “Ye're English, sir! Ecod! I + had thought ye French!” + </p> + <p> + “It is an honor, sir, that you should have thought me anything.” + </p> + <p> + The other abased himself. “'Twas an unwarrantable presumption, Codso! + which I hope your honor'll pardon.” Then he smiled again, his little eyes + twinkling humorously. “An ye would try the ale, I dare swear your honor + would forgive me. I know ale, ecod! I am a brewer myself. Green is my + name, sir—Tom Green—your very obedient servant, sir.” And he + drank as if pledging that same service he professed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll observed him calmly and a thought indifferently. “Ye're + determined to honor me,” said he. “I am your debtor for your reflections + upon whetting glasses; but ale, sir, is a beverage I don't affect, nor + shall while there are vines in France.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed Mr. Green rapturously. “'Tis a great country, France; is it + not, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis not the general opinion here at present. But I make no doubt that it + deserves your praise.” + </p> + <p> + “And Paris, now,” persisted Mr. Green. “They tell me 'tis a great city; a + marvel o' th' ages. There be those, ecod! that say London's but a kennel + to't.” + </p> + <p> + “Be there so?” quoth Mr. Caryll indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't agree with them, belike?” asked Mr. Green, with eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Men will say anything,” Mr. Caryll replied, and added pointedly: + “Men will talk, ye see.” + </p> + <p> + “Not always,” was the retort in a sly tone. “I've known men to be + prodigious short when they had aught to hide.” + </p> + <p> + “Have ye so? Ye seem to have had a wide experience.” And Mr. Caryll + sauntered out, humming a French air through closed lips. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green looked after him with hardened eyes. He turned to the drawer who + stood by. “He's mighty close,” said he. “Mighty close!” + </p> + <p> + “Ye're not perhaps quite the company he cares for,” the drawer suggested + candidly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green looked at him. “Very like,” he snapped. “How long does he stay + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye lost a rare chance of finding out when ye let him go without + inquiring,” said the drawer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green's face lost some of its chubbiness. “When d'ye look to marry the + landlady?” was his next question. + </p> + <p> + The man stared. “Cod!” said he. “Marry the—Are ye daft?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green affected surprise. “I'm mistook, it seems. Ye misled me by your + pertness. Get me another nipperkin.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had taken his way above stairs to the room set apart + for him. He dined to his satisfaction, and thereafter, his shapely, + silk-clad legs thrown over a second chair, his waistcoat all unbuttoned, + for the day was of an almost midsummer warmth—he sat mightily at his + ease, a decanter of sherry at his elbow, a pipe in one hand and a book of + Mr. Gay's poems in the other. But the ease went no further than the body, + as witnessed the circumstances that his pipe was cold, the decanter + tolerably full, and Mr. Gay's pleasant rhymes and quaint conceits of fancy + all unheeded. The light, mercurial spirit which he had from nature and his + unfortunate mother, and which he had retained in spite of the stern + training he had received at his adoptive father's hands, was + heavy-fettered now. + </p> + <p> + The mild fatigue of his journey through the heat of the day had led him to + look forward to a voluptuous hour of indolence following upon dinner, with + pipe and book and glass. The hour was come, the elements were there, but + since he could not abandon himself to their dominion the voluptuousness + was wanting. The task before him haunted him with anticipatory remorse. It + hung upon his spirit like a sick man's dream. It obtruded itself upon his + constant thought, and the more he pondered it the more did he sicken at + what lay before him. + </p> + <p> + Wrought upon by Everard's fanaticism that day in Paris some three weeks + ago, infected for the time being by something of his adoptive father's + fever, he had set his hands to the task in a glow of passionate + exaltation. But with the hour, the exaltation went, and reaction started + in his soul. And yet draw back he dared not; too long and sedulously had + Everard trained his spirit to look upon the avenging of his mother as a + duty. Believing that it was his duty, he thirsted on the one hand to + fulfill it, whilst, on the other, he recoiled in horror at the thought + that the man upon whom he was to wreak that vengeance was his father—albeit + a father whom he did not know, who had never seen him, who was not so much + as aware of his existence. + </p> + <p> + He sought forgetfulness in Mr. Gay. He had the delicate-minded man's + inherent taste for verse, a quick ear for the melody of words, the + aesthete's love of beauty in phrase as of beauty in all else; and culture + had quickened his perceptions, developed his capacity for appreciation. + For the tenth time he called Leduc to light his pipe; and, that done, he + set his eye to the page once more. But it was like harnessing a bullock to + a cart; unmindful of the way it went and over what it travelled, his eye + ambled heavily along the lines, and when he came to turn the page he + realized with a start that he had no impression of what he had read upon + it. + </p> + <p> + In sheer disgust he tossed the book aside, and kicking away the second + chair, rose lythely. He crossed to the window, and stood there gazing out + at nothing, nor conscious of the incense that came to him from garden, + from orchard, and from meadow. + </p> + <p> + It needed a clatter of hoofs and a cloud of dust approaching from the + north to draw his mind from its obsessing thoughts. He watched the yellow + body of the coach as it came furiously onward, its four horses stretched + to the gallop, postillion lusty of lungs and whip, and the great trail of + dust left behind it spreading to right and left over the flowering + hedge-rows to lose itself above the gold-flecked meadowland. On it came, + to draw up there, at the very entrance to Maidstone, at the sign of the + “Adam and Eve.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, leaning on the sill of his window, looked down with interest + to see what manner of travellers were these that went at so red-hot a + pace. From the rumble a lackey swung himself to the rough cobbles of the + yard. From within the inn came again landlady and chamberlain, and from + the stable ostler and boy, obsequious all and of no interest to Mr. + Caryll. + </p> + <p> + Then the door of the coach was opened, the steps were let down, and there + emerged—his hand upon the shoulder of the servant—a very + ferret of a man in black, with a parson's bands and neckcloth, a + coal-black full-bottomed wig, and under this a white face, rather drawn + and haggard, and thin lips perpetually agrin to flaunt two rows of yellow + teeth disproportionately large. After him, and the more remarkable by + contrast, came a tall, black-faced fellow, very brave in buff-colored + cloth, with a fortune in lace at wrist and throat, and a heavily powdered + tie-wig. + </p> + <p> + Lackey, chamberlain and parson attended his alighting, and then he joined + their ranks to attend in his turn—hat under arm—the last of + these odd travellers. + </p> + <p> + The interest grew. Mr. Caryll felt that the climax was about to be + presented, and he leaned farther forward that he might obtain a better + view of the awaited personage. In the silence he caught a rustle of silk. + A flowered petticoat appeared—as much of it as may be seen from the + knee downwards—and from beneath this the daintiest foot conceivable + was seen to grope an instant for the step. Another second and the rest of + her emerged. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll observed—and be it known that he had the very shrewdest + eye for a woman, as became one of the race from which on his mother's side + he sprang—that she was middling tall, chastely slender, having, as + he judged from her high waist, a fine, clean length of limb. All this he + observed and approved, and prayed for a glimpse of the face which her + silken hood obscured and screened from his desiring gaze. She raised it at + that moment—raised it in a timid, frightened fashion, as one who + looks fearfully about to see that she is not remarked—and Mr. Caryll + had a glimpse of an oval face, pale with a warm pallor—like the + pallor of the peach, he thought, and touched, like the peach, with a faint + hint of pink in either cheek. A pair of eyes, large, brown, and gentle as + a saint's, met his, and Mr. Caryll realized that she was beautiful and + that it might be good to look into those eyes at closer quarters. + </p> + <p> + Seeing him, a faint exclamation escaped her, and she turned away in sudden + haste to enter the inn. The fine gentleman looked up and scowled; the + parson looked up and trembled; the ostler and his boy looked up and + grinned. Then all swept forward and were screened by the porch from the + wondering eyes of Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + He turned from the window with a sigh, and stepped back to the table for + the tinder-box, that for the eleventh time he might relight his pipe. He + sat down, blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, and considered. His nature + triumphed now over his recent preoccupation; the matter of the moment, + which concerned him not at all, engrossed him beyond any other matter of + his life. He was intrigued to know in what relation one to the other stood + the three so oddly assorted travellers he had seen arrive. He bethought + him that, after all, the odd assortment arose from the presence of the + parson; and he wondered what the plague should any Christian—and + seemingly a gentleman at that—be doing travelling with a parson. + Then there was the wild speed at which they had come. + </p> + <p> + The matter absorbed and vexed him. I fear he was inquisitive by nature. + There came a moment when he went so far as to consider making his way + below to pursue his investigations in situ. It would have been at great + cost to his dignity, and this he was destined to be spared. + </p> + <p> + A knock fell upon his door, and the landlady came in. She was genial, + buxom and apple-faced, as becomes a landlady. + </p> + <p> + “There is a gentleman below—” she was beginning, when Mr. Caryll + interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather that you told me of the lady,” said + </p> + <p> + “La, sir!” she cried, displaying ivory teeth, her eyes cast upwards, hands + upraised in gentle, mirthful protest. “La, sir! But I come from the lady, + too.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her. “A good ambassador,” said he, “should begin with the + best news; not add it as an afterthought. But proceed, I beg. You give me + hope, mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “They send their compliments, and would be prodigiously obliged if you was + to give yourself the trouble of stepping below.” + </p> + <p> + “Of stepping below?” he inquired, head on one side, solemn eyes upon the + hostess. “Would it be impertinent to inquire what they may want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I think they want you for a witness, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “For a witness? Am I to testify to the lady's perfection of face and + shape, to the heaven that sits in her eyes, to the miracle she calls her + ankle? Are these and other things besides of the same kind what I am + required to witness? If so, they could not have sent for one more + qualified. I am an expert, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, nay!” she laughed. “'Tis a marriage they need you for.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll opened his queer eyes a little wider. “Soho!” said he. “The + parson is explained.” Then he fell thoughtful, his tone lost its note of + flippancy. “This gentleman who sends his compliments, does he send his + name?” + </p> + <p> + “He does not, sir; but I overheard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Confide in me,” Mr. Caryll invited her. + </p> + <p> + “He is a great gentleman,” she prepared him. + </p> + <p> + “No matter. I love great gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “They call him Lord Rotherby.” + </p> + <p> + At that sudden and utterly unexpected mention of his half-brother's name—his + unknown half-brother—Mr. Caryll came to his feet with an alacrity + which a more shrewd observer would have set down to some cause other than + mere respect for a viscount. The hostess was shrewd, but not shrewd + enough, and if Mr. Caryll's expression changed for an instant, it resumed + its habitual half-scornful calm so swiftly that it would have needed eyes + of an exceptional quickness to have read it. + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” he said. “Who could deny his lordship?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell them you are coming?” she inquired, her hand already upon + the door. + </p> + <p> + “A moment,” he begged, detaining her. “'Tis a runaway marriage this, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Her full-hearted smile beamed on him again; she was a very woman, with a + taste for the romantic, loving love. “What else, sir?” she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “And why, mistress,” he inquired, eying her, his fingers plucking at his + nether lip, “do they desire my testimony?” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship's own man will stand witness, for one; but they'll need + another,” she explained, her voice reflecting astonishment at his + question. + </p> + <p> + “True. But why do they need me?” he pressed her. “Heard you no reason + given why they should prefer me to your chamberlain, your ostler or your + drawer?” + </p> + <p> + She knit her brows and shrugged impatient shoulders. Here was a deal of + pother about a trifling affair. “His lordship saw you as he entered, sir, + and inquired of me who you might be.” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship flatters me by this interest. My looks pleased him, let us + hope. And you answered him—what?” + </p> + <p> + “That your honor is a gentleman newly crossed from France.” + </p> + <p> + “You are well-informed, mistress,” said Mr. Caryll, a thought tartly, for + if his speech was tainted with a French accent it was in so slight a + degree as surely to be imperceptible to the vulgar. + </p> + <p> + “Your clothes, sir,” the landlady explained, and he bethought him, then, + that the greater elegance and refinement of his French apparel must indeed + proclaim his origin to one who had so many occasions of seeing travelers + from Gaul. That might even account for Mr. Green's attempts to talk to him + of France. His mind returned to the matter of the bridal pair below. + </p> + <p> + “You told him that, eh?” said he. “And what said his lordship then?” + </p> + <p> + “He turned to the parson. 'The very man for us, Jenkins,' says he.” + </p> + <p> + “And the parson—this Jenkins—what answer did he make?” + </p> + <p> + “'Excellently thought,' he says, grinning.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! And you yourself, mistress, what inference did you draw?” + </p> + <p> + “Inference, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, inference, ma'am. Did you not gather that this was not only a + runaway match, but a clandestine one? My lord can depend upon the + discretion of his servant, no doubt; for other witness he would prefer + some passer-by, some stranger who will go his ways to-morrow, and not be + like to be heard of again.” + </p> + <p> + “Lard, sir!” cried the landlady, her eyes wide with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled enigmatically. “'Tis so, I assure ye, ma'am. My Lord + Rotherby is of a family singularly cautious in the unions it contracts. In + entering matrimony he prefers, no doubt, to leave a back door open for + quiet retreat should he repent him later.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honor has his lordship's acquaintance, then?” quoth the landlady. + </p> + <p> + “It is a misfortune from which Heaven has hitherto preserved me, but which + the devil, it seems, now thrusts upon me. It will, nevertheless, interest + me to see him at close quarters. Come, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + As they were going out, Mr. Caryll checked suddenly. “Why, what's + o'clock?” said he. + </p> + <p> + She stared, so abruptly came the question. “Past four, sir,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He uttered a short laugh. “Decidedly,” said he, “his lordship must be + viewed at closer quarters.” And he led the way downstairs. + </p> + <p> + In the passage he waited for her to come up with him. “You had best + announce me by name,” he suggested. “It is Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and, going forward, threw open a door, inviting him to enter. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Caryll,” she announced, obedient to his injunction, and as he went in + she closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + From the group of three that had been sitting about the polished walnut + table, the tall gentleman in buff and silver rose swiftly, and advanced to + the newcomer; what time Mr. Caryll made a rapid observation of this + brother whom he was meeting under circumstances so odd and by a chance so + peculiar. + </p> + <p> + He beheld a man of twenty-five, or perhaps a little more, tall and well + made, if already inclining to heaviness, with a swarthy face, full-lipped, + big-nosed, black-eyed, an obstinate chin, and a deplorable brow. At sight, + by instinct, he disliked his brother. He wondered vaguely was Lord + Rotherby in appearance at all like their common father; but beyond that he + gave little thought to the tie that bound them. Indeed, he has placed it + upon record that, saving in such moments of high stress as followed in + their later connection, he never could remember that they were the sons of + the same parent. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” was Rotherby's greeting, a note almost of irritation in his + voice, “that the woman said you were from France.” + </p> + <p> + It was an odd welcome, but its oddness at the moment went unheeded. His + swift scrutiny of his brother over, Mr. Caryll's glance passed on to + become riveted upon the face of the lady at the table's head. In addition + to the beauties which from above he had descried, he now perceived that + her mouth was sensitive and kindly, her whole expression one of gentle + wistfulness, exceeding sweet to contemplate. What did she in this galley, + he wondered; and he has confessed that just as at sight he had disliked + his brother, so from that hour—from the very instant of his eyes' + alighting on her there—he loved the lady whom his brother was to + wed, felt a surpassing need of her, conceived that in the meeting of their + eyes their very souls had met, so that it was to him as if he had known + her since he had known anything. Meanwhile there was his lordship's + question to be answered. He answered it mechanically, his eyes upon the + lady, and she returning the gaze of those queer, greenish eyes with a + sweetness that gave place to no confusion. + </p> + <p> + “I am from France, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But not French?” his lordship continued. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll fetched his eyes from the lady's to meet Lord Rotherby's. “More + than half French,” he replied, the French taint in his accent growing + slightly more pronounced. “It was but an accident that my father was an + Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby laughed softly, a thought contemptuously. Foreigners were things + which in his untraveled, unlettered ignorance he despised. The difference + between a Frenchman and a South Sea Islander was a thing never quite + appreciated by his lordship. Some subtle difference he had no doubt + existed; but for him it was enough to know that both were foreigners; + therefore, it logically followed, both were kin. + </p> + <p> + “Your words, sir, might be oddly interpreted. 'Pon honor, they might!” + said he, and laughed softly again with singular insolence. + </p> + <p> + “If they have amused your lordship I am happy,” said Mr. Caryll in such a + tone that Rotherby looked to see whether he was being roasted. “You wanted + me, I think. I beg that you'll not thank me for having descended. It was + an honor.” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Rotherby that this was a veiled reproof for the ill manners + of the omission. Again he looked sharply at this man who was scanning him + with such interest, but he detected in the calm, high-bred face nothing to + suggest that any mockery was intended. Belatedly he fell to doing the very + thing that Mr. Caryll had begged him to leave undone: he fell to thanking + him. As for Mr. Caryll himself, not even the queer position into which he + had been thrust could repress his characteristics. What time his lordship + thanked him, he looked about him at the other occupants of the room, and + found that, besides the parson, sitting pale and wide-eyed at the table, + there was present in the background his lordship's man—a quiet + fellow, quietly garbed in gray, with a shrewd face and shrewd, shifty + eyes. Mr. Caryll saw, and registered, for future use, the reflection that + eyes that are overshrewd are seldom wont to look out of honest heads. + </p> + <p> + “You are desired,” his lordship informed him, “to be witness to a + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the landlady had made known to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not, I trust, a task that will occasion you any scruples.” + </p> + <p> + “None. On the contrary, it is the absence of the marriage might do that.” + The smooth, easy tone so masked the inner meaning of the answer that his + lordship scarce attended to the words. + </p> + <p> + “Then we had best get on. We are in haste.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the characteristic rashness of folk about to enter wedlock,” said + Mr. Caryll, as he approached the table with his lordship, his eyes as he + spoke turning full upon the bride. + </p> + <p> + My lord laughed, musically enough, but overloud for a man of brains or + breeding. “Marry in haste, eh?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “You are penetration itself,” Mr. Caryll praised him. + </p> + <p> + “'Twill take a shrewd rogue to better me,” his lordship agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Yet an honest man might worst you. One never knows. But the lady's + patience is being taxed.” + </p> + <p> + It was as well he added that, for his lordship had turned with intent to + ask him what he meant. + </p> + <p> + “Aye! Come, Jenkins. Get on with your patter. Gaskell,” he called to his + man, “stand forward here.” Then he took his place beside the lady, who had + risen, and stood pale, with eyes cast down and—as Mr. Caryll alone + saw—the faintest quiver at the corners of her lips. This served to + increase Mr. Caryll's already considerable cogitations. + </p> + <p> + The parson faced them, fumbling at his book, Mr. Caryll's eyes watching + him with that cold, level glance of theirs. The parson looked up, met that + uncanny gaze, displayed his teeth in a grin of terror, fell to trembling, + and dropped the book in his confusion. Mr. Caryll, smiling sardonically, + stooped to restore it him. + </p> + <p> + There followed a fresh pause. Mr. Jenkins, having lost his place, seemed + at some pains to find it again—amazing, indeed, in one whose + profession should have rendered him so familiar with its pages. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll continued to watch him, in silence, and—as an observer + might have thought, as, indeed, Gaskell did think, though he said nothing + at the time—with wicked relish. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE WITNESS + </h2> + <p> + At last the page was found again by Mr. Jenkins. Having found it, he + hesitated still a moment, then cleared his throat, and in the manner of + one hurling himself forward upon a desperate venture, he began to read. + </p> + <p> + “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God,” he read, and + on in a nasal, whining voice, which not only was the very voice you would + have expected from such a man, but in accordance, too, with sound clerical + convention. The bridal pair stood before him, the groom with a slight + flush on his cheeks and a bright glitter in his black eyes, which were not + nice to see; the bride with bowed head and bosom heaving as in response to + inward tumult. + </p> + <p> + The cleric came to the end of his exordium, paused a moment, and whether + because he gathered confidence, whether because he realized the impressive + character of the fresh matter upon which he entered, he proceeded now in a + firmer, more sonorous voice: “I require and charge you both as ye will + answer on the dreadful day of judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye've forgot something,” Mr. Caryll interrupted blandly. + </p> + <p> + His lordship swung round with an impatient gesture and an impatient snort; + the lady, too, looked up suddenly, whilst Mr. Jenkins seemed to fall into + an utter panic. + </p> + <p> + “Wha—what?” he stammered. “What have I forgot?” + </p> + <p> + “To read the directions, I think.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship scowled darkly upon Mr. Caryll, who heeded him not at all, + but watched the lady sideways. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins turned first scarlet, then paler than he had been before, and + bent his eyes to the book to read in a slightly puzzled voice the + italicized words above the period he had embarked upon. “And also speaking + unto the persons that shall be married, he shall say:” he read, and looked + up inquiry, his faintly-colored, prominent eyes endeavoring to sustain Mr. + Caryll's steady glance, but failing miserably. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis farther back,” Mr. Caryll informed him in answer to that mute + question; and as the fellow moistened his thumb to turn back the pages, + Mr. Caryll saved him the trouble. “It says, I think, that the man should + be on your right hand and the woman on your left. Ye seem to have reversed + matters, Mr. Jenkins. But perhaps ye're left-handed.” + </p> + <p> + “Stab me!” was Mr. Jenkins' most uncanonical comment. “I vow I am + over-flustered. Your lordship is so impatient with me. This gentleman is + right. But that I was so flustered. Will you not change places with his + lordship, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + They changed places, after the viscount had thanked Mr. Caryll shortly and + cursed the parson with circumstance and fervor. It was well done on his + lordship's part, but the lady did not seem convinced by it. Her face + looked whiter, and her eyes had an alarmed, half-suspicious expression. + </p> + <p> + “We must begin again,” said Mr. Jenkins. And he began again. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll listened and watched, and he began to enjoy himself + exceedingly. He had not reckoned upon so rich an entertainment when he had + consented to come down to witness this odd ceremony. His sense of humor + conquered every other consideration, and the circumstance that Lord + Rotherby was his brother, if remembered at all, served but to add a spice + to the situation. + </p> + <p> + Out of sheer deviltry he waited until Mr. Jenkins had labored for a second + time through the opening periods. Again he allowed him to get as far as “I + charge and require you both-,” before again he interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “There is something else ye've forgot,” said he in that sweet, quiet voice + of his. + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Rotherby. “Damn you!” he swore, turning a livid face + upon Mr. Caryll, and failed to observe that at the sound of that harsh + oath and at the sight of his furious face, the lady recoiled from him, the + suspicion lately in her face turning first to conviction and then to + absolute horror. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think you are civil,” said Mr. Caryll critically. “It was in + your interests that I spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll thank you, in my interests, to hold your tongue!” his lordship + stormed. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Mr. Caryll, “I must still speak in the interests of + the lady. Since you've desired me to be a witness, I'll do my duty by you + both and see you properly wed.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, what the devil may you mean by that?” demanded his lordship, + betraying himself more and more at every word. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins, in a spasm of terror, sought to pour oil upon these waters. + “My lord,” he bleated, teeth and eyeballs protruding from his pallid face. + “My lord! Perhaps the gentleman is right. Perhaps—Perhaps—” He + gulped, and turned to Mr. Caryll. “What is't ye think we have forgot now?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The time of day,” Mr. Caryll replied, and watched the puzzled look that + came into both their faces. + </p> + <p> + “Do ye deal in riddles with us?” quoth his lordship. “What have we to do + with the time of day?” + </p> + <p> + “Best ask the parson,” suggested Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby swung round again to Jenkins. Jenkins spread his hands in mute + bewilderment and distress. Mr. Caryll laughed silently. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not be married! I'll not be married!” + </p> + <p> + It was the lady who spoke, and those odd words were the first that Mr. + Caryll heard from her lips. They made an excellent impression upon him, + bearing witness to her good sense and judgment—although belatedly + aroused—and informing him, although the pitch was strained just now; + that the rich contralto of her voice was full of music. He was a judge of + voices, as of much else besides. + </p> + <p> + “Hoity-toity!” quoth his lordship, between petulance and simulated + amusement. “What's all the pother? Hortensia, dear—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not be married!” she repeated firmly, her wide brown eyes meeting + his in absolute defiance, head thrown back, face pale but fearless. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe,” ventured Mr. Caryll, “that you could be if you desired + it. Leastways not here and now and by this.” And he jerked a contemptuous + thumb sideways at Mr. Jenkins, toward whom he had turned his shoulder. + “Perhaps you have realized it for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through her; color flooded into her face and out again, + leaving it paler than before; yet she maintained a brave front that moved + Mr. Caryll profoundly to an even greater admiration of her. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby, his great jaw set, his hands clenched and eyes blazing, stood + irresolute between her and Mr. Caryll. Jenkins, in sheer terror, now sank + limply to a chair, whilst Gaskell looked on—a perfect servant—as + immovable outwardly and unconcerned as if he had been a piece of + furniture. Then his lordship turned again to Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “You take a deal upon yourself, sir,” said he menacingly. + </p> + <p> + “A deal of what?” wondered Mr. Caryll blandly. + </p> + <p> + The question nonplussed Rotherby. He swore ferociously. “By God!” he + fumed, “I'll have you make good your insinuations. You shall disabuse this + lady's mind. You shall—damn you!—or I'll compel you!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled very engagingly. The matter was speeding excellently—a + comedy the like of which he did not remember to have played a part in + since his student days at Oxford, ten years and more ago. + </p> + <p> + “I had thought,” said he, “that the woman who summoned me to be a witness + of this—this—ah wedding”—there was a whole volume of + criticism in his utterance of the word—“was the landlady of the + 'Adam and Eve.' I begin to think that she was this lady's good angel; + Fate, clothed, for once, matronly and benign.” Then he dropped the easy, + bantering manner with a suddenness that was startling. Gallic fire blazed + up through British training. “Let us speak plainly, my Lord Rotherby. This + marriage is no marriage. It is a mockery and a villainy. And that + scoundrel—worthy servant of his master—is no parson; no, not + so much as a hedge-parson is he. Madame,” he proceeded, turning now to the + frightened lady, “you have been grossly abused by these villains.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” blazed Rotherby at last, breaking in upon his denunciation, hand + clapped to sword. “Do ye dare use such words to me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins got to his feet, in a slow, foolish fashion. He put out a hand + to stay his lordship. The lady, in the background, looked on with wide + eyes, very breathless, one hand to her bosom as if to control its heave. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll proceeded, undismayed, to make good his accusation. He had + dropped back into his slightly listless air of thinly veiled persiflage, + and he appeared to address the lady, to explain the situation to her, + rather than to justify the charge he had made. + </p> + <p> + “A blind man could have perceived, from the rustling of his prayer book + when he fumbled at it, that the contents were strange to him. And observe + the volume,” he continued, picking it up and flaunting it aloft. + “Fire-new; not a thumbmark anywhere; purchased expressly for this foul + venture. Is there aught else so clean and fresh about the scurvy thief?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall moderate your tones, sir—” began his lordship in a snarl. + </p> + <p> + “He sets you each on the wrong side of him,” continued Mr. Caryll, all + imperturbable, “lacking even the sense to read the directions which the + book contains, and he has no thought for the circumstance that the time of + day is uncanonical. Is more needed, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “So much was not needed,” said she, “though I am your debtor, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was marvelously steady, ice-cold with scorn, a royal anger + increasing the glory of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby's hand fell away from his sword. He realized that bluster was not + the most convenient weapon here. He addressed Mr. Caryll very haughtily. + “You are from France, sir, and something may be excused you. But not quite + all. You have used expressions that are not to be offered to a person of + my quality. I fear you scarcely apprehend it.” + </p> + <p> + “As well, no doubt, as those who avoid you, sir,” answered Mr. Caryll, + with cool contempt, his dislike of the man and of the business in which he + had found him engaged mounting above every other consideration. + </p> + <p> + His lordship frowned inquiry. “And who may those be?” + </p> + <p> + “Most decent folk, I should conceive, if this be an example of your ways.” + </p> + <p> + “By God, sir! You are a thought too pert. We'll mend that presently. I + will first convince you of your error, and you, Hortensia.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be interesting,” said Mr. Caryll, and meant it. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby turned from him, keeping a tight rein upon his anger; and so much + restraint in so tempestuous a man was little short of wonderful. + “Hortensia,” he said, “this is fool's talk. What object could I seek to + serve?” She drew back another step, contempt and loathing in her face. + “This man,” he continued, flinging a hand toward Jenkins, and checked upon + the word. He swung round upon the fellow. “Have you fooled me, knave?” he + bawled. “Is it true what this man says of you—that ye're no parson + at all?” + </p> + <p> + Jenkins quailed and shriveled. Here was a move for which he was all + unprepared, and knew not how to play to it. On the bridegroom's part it + was excellently acted; yet it came too late to be convincing. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have the license in your pocket, no doubt, my lord,” put in Mr. + Caryll. “It will help to convince the lady of the honesty of your + intentions. It will show her that ye were abused by this thief for the + sake of the guinea ye were to pay him.” + </p> + <p> + That was checkmate, and Lord Rotherby realized it. There remained him + nothing but violence, and in violence he was exceedingly at home—being + a member of the Hell Fire Club and having served in the Bold Bucks under + his Grace of Wharton. + </p> + <p> + “You damned, infernal marplot! You blasted meddler!” he swore, and some + other things besides, froth on his lips, the veins of his brow congested. + “What affair was this of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you desired me for a witness,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “I did, let me perish!” said Rotherby. “And I wish to the devil I had bit + my tongue out first.” + </p> + <p> + “The loss to eloquence had been irreparable,” sighed Mr. Caryll, his eyes + upon a beam of the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby stared and choked. “Is there no sense in you, you gibbering + parrot?” he inquired. “What are you—an actor or a fool?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman, I hope,” said Mr. Caryll urbanely. “What are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll learn you,” said his lordship, and plucked at his sword. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Mr. Caryll in the same quiet voice that thinly veiled his + inward laughter—“a bully!” + </p> + <p> + With more oaths, my lord heaved himself forward. Mr. Caryll was without + weapons. He had left his sword above-stairs, not deeming that he would be + needing it at a wedding. He never moved hand or foot as Rotherby bore down + upon him, but his greenish eyes grew keen and very watchful. He began to + wonder had he indulged his amusement overlong, and imperceptibly he + adjusted his balance for a spring. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby stretched out to lunge, murder in his inflamed eyes. “I'll + silence you, you—” + </p> + <p> + There was a swift rustle behind him. His hand—drawn back to thrust—was + suddenly caught, and ere he realized it the sword was wrenched from + fingers that held it lightly, unprepared for this. + </p> + <p> + “You dog!” said the lady's voice, strident now with anger and disdain. She + had his sword. + </p> + <p> + He faced about with a horrible oath. Mr. Caryll conceived that he was + becoming a thought disgusting. + </p> + <p> + Hoofs and wheels ground on the cobbles of the yard and came to a halt + outside, but went unheeded in the excitement of the moment. Rotherby stood + facing her, she facing him, the sword in her hand and a look in her eyes + that promised she would use it upon him did he urge her. + </p> + <p> + A moment thus—of utter, breathless silence. Then, as if her passion + mounted and swept all aside, she raised the sword, and using it as a whip, + she lashed him with it until at the third blow it rebounded to the table + and was snapped. Instinctively his lordship had put up his hands to save + his face, and across one of them a red line grew and grew and oozed forth + blood which spread to envelop it. + </p> + <p> + Gaskell advanced with a sharp cry of concern. But Rotherby waved him back, + and the gesture shook blood from his hand like raindrops. His face was + livid; his eyes were upon the woman he had gone so near betraying with a + look that none might read. Jenkins swayed, sickly, against the table, + whilst Mr. Caryll observed all with a critical eye and came to the + conclusion that she must have loved this villain. + </p> + <p> + The hilt and stump of sword clattered in the fireplace, whither she hurled + it. A moment she caught her face in her hands, and a sob shook her almost + fiercely. Then she came past his lordship, across the room to Mr. Caryll, + Rotherby making no shift to detain her. + </p> + <p> + “Take me away, sir! Take me away,” she begged him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll's gloomy face lightened suddenly. “Your servant, ma'am,” said + he, and made her a bow. “I think you are very well advised,” he added + cheerfully and offered her his arm. She took it, and moved a step or two + toward the door. It opened at that moment, and a burly, elderly man came + in heavily. + </p> + <p> + The lady halted, a cry escaped her—a cry of pain almost—and + she fell to weeping there and then. Mr. Caryll was very mystified. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer paused at the sight that met him, considered it with a dull + blue eye, and, for all that he looked stupid, it seemed he had wit enough + to take in the situation. + </p> + <p> + “So!” said he, with heavy mockery. “I might have spared myself the trouble + of coming after you. For it seems that she has found you out in time, you + villain!” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby turned sharply at that voice. He fell back a step, his brow + seeming to grow blacker than it had been. “Father!” he exclaimed; but + there was little that was filial in the accent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll staggered and recovered himself. It had been indeed a + staggering shock; for here, of course, was his own father, too. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. Mr. GREEN + </h2> + <p> + There was a quick patter of feet, the rustle of a hooped petticoat, and + the lady was in the arms of my Lord Ostermore. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, my lord!” she was crying. “Oh, forgive me! I was a little + fool, and I have been punished enough already!” + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Caryll this was a surprising development. The earl, whose arms + seemed to have opened readily enough to receive her, was patting her + soothingly upon the shoulder. “Pish! What's this? What's this?” he + grumbled; yet his voice, Mr. Caryll noticed, was if anything kindly; but + it must be confessed that it was a dull, gruff voice, seldom indicating + any shade of emotion, unless—as sometimes happened—it was + raised in anger. He was frowning now upon his son over the girl's head, + his bushy, grizzled brows contracted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll observed—and with what interest you should well imagine—that + Lord Ostermore was still in a general way a handsome man. Of a good + height, but slightly excessive bulk, he had a face that still retained a + fair shape. Short-necked, florid and plethoric, he had the air of the man + who seldom makes a long illness at the end. His eyes were very blue, and + the lids were puffed and heavy, whilst the mouth, Mr. Caryll remarked in a + critical, detached spirit, was stupid rather than sensuous. He made his + survey swiftly, and the result left him wondering. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the earl was addressing his son, whose hand was being bandaged + by Gaskell. There was little variety in his invective. “You villain!” he + bawled at him. “You damned villain!” Then he patted the girl's head. “You + found the scoundrel out before you married him,” said he. “I am glad on't; + glad on't!” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis such a reversing of the usual order of things that it calls for + wonder,” said Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” quoth his lordship. “Who the devil are you? One of his friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship overwhelms me,” said Mr. Caryll gravely, making a bow. He + observed the bewilderment in Ostermore's eyes, and began to realize at + that early stage of their acquaintance that to speak ironically to the + Earl of Ostermore was not to speak at all. + </p> + <p> + It was Hortensia—a very tearful Hortensia now who explained. “This + gentleman saved me, my lord,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Saved you?” quoth he dully. “How did he come to save you?” + </p> + <p> + “He discovered the parson,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + The earl looked more and more bewildered. “Just so,” said Mr. Caryll. “It + was my privilege to discover that the parson is no parson.” + </p> + <p> + “The parson is no parson?” echoed his lordship, scowling more and more. + “Then what the devil is the parson?” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia freed herself from his protecting arms. “He is a villain,” she + said, “who was hired by my Lord Rotherby to come here and pretend to be a + parson.” Her eyes flamed, her cheeks were scarlet. “God help me for a + fool, my lord, to have put my faith in that man! Oh!” she choked. “The + shame—the burning shame of it! I would I had a brother to punish + him!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore was crimson, too, with indignation. Mr. Caryll was relieved + to see that he was capable of so much emotion. “Did I not warn you against + him, Hortensia?” said he. “Could you not have trusted that I knew him—I, + his father, to my everlasting shame?” Then he swung upon Rotherby. “You + dog!” he began, and there—being a man of little invention—words + failed him, and wrath alone remained, very intense, but entirely + inarticulate. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby moved forward till he reached the table, then stood leaning upon + it, scowling at the company from under his black brows. “'Tis your + lordship alone is to blame for this,” he informed his father, with a vain + pretence at composure. + </p> + <p> + “I am to blame!” gurgled his lordship, veins swelling at his brow. “I am + to blame that you should have carried her off thus? And—by God!—had + you meant to marry her honestly and fittingly, I might find it in my heart + to forgive you. But to practice such villainy! To attempt to put this foul + trick upon the child!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll thought for an instant of another child whose child he was, and + a passion of angry mockery at the forgetfulness of age welled up from the + bitter soul of him. Outwardly he remained a very mirror for placidity. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship had threatened to disinherit me if I married her,” said + Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas to save her from you,” Ostermore explained, entirely unnecessarily. + “And you thought to—to—By God! sir, I marvel you have the + courage to confront me. I marvel!” + </p> + <p> + “Take me away, my lord,” Hortensia begged him, touching his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, we were best away,” said the earl, drawing her to him. Then he flung + a hand out at Rotherby in a gesture of repudiation, of anathema. “But 'tis + not the end on't for you, you knave! What I threatened, I will perform. + I'll disinherit you. Not a penny of mine shall come to you. Ye shall + starve for aught I care; starve, and—and—the world be well rid + of a villain. I—I disown you. Ye're no son of mine. I'll take oath + ye're no son of mine!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll thought that, on the contrary, Rotherby was very much his + father's son, and he added to his observations upon human nature the + reflection that sinners are oddly blessed with short memories. He was + entirely dispassionate again by now. + </p> + <p> + As for Rotherby, he received his father's anger with a scornful smile and + a curling lip. “You'll disinherit me?” quoth he in mockery. “And of what, + pray? If report speaks true, you'll be needing to inherit something + yourself to bear you through your present straitness.” He shrugged and + produced his snuff-box with an offensive simulation of nonchalance. “Ye + cannot cut the entail,” he reminded his almost apoplectic sire, and took + snuff delicately, sauntering windowwards. + </p> + <p> + “Cut the entail? The entail?” cried the earl, and laughed in a manner that + seemed to bode no good. “Have you ever troubled to ascertain what it + amounts to? You fool, it wouldn't keep you in—in—in snuff!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby halted in his stride, half-turned and looked at his father + over his shoulder. The sneering mask was wiped from his face, which became + blank. “My lord—” he began. + </p> + <p> + The earl waved a silencing hand, and turned with dignity to Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “Come, child,” said he. Then he remembered something. “Gad!” he exclaimed. + “I had forgot the parson. I'll have him gaoled! I'll have him hanged if + the law will help me. Come forth, man!” + </p> + <p> + Ignoring the invitation, Mr. Jenkins scuttled, ratlike, across the room, + mounted the window-seat, and was gone in a flash through the open window. + He dropped plump upon Mr. Green, who was crouching underneath. The pair + rolled over together in the mould of a flowerbed; then Mr. Green clutched + Mr. Jenkins, and Mr. Jenkins squealed like a trapped rabbit. Mr. Green + thrust his fist carefully into the mockparson's mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! You blubbering fool!” he snapped in his ear. “My business is not with + you. Lie still!” + </p> + <p> + Within the room all stood at gaze, following the sudden flight of Mr. + Jenkins. Then Lord Ostermore made as if to approach the winnow, but + Hortensia restrained him. + </p> + <p> + “Let the wretch go,” she said. “The blame is not his. What is he but my + lord's tool?” And her eyes scorched Rotherby with such a glance of scorn + as must have killed any but a shameless man. Then turning to the demurely + observant gentleman who had done her such good service, “Mr. Caryll” she + said, “I want to thank you. I want my lord, here, to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll bowed to her. “I beg that you will not think of it,” said he. + “It is I who will remain in your debt.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your name Caryll, sir?” quoth the earl. He had a trick of fastening + upon the inconsequent, though that was scarcely the case now. + </p> + <p> + “That, my lord, is my name. I believe I have the honor of sharing it with + your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll belong to some younger branch of the family,” the earl supposed. + </p> + <p> + “Like enough—some outlying branch,” answered the imperturbable + Caryll—a jest which only himself could appreciate, and that + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “And how came you into this?” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby sneered audibly—in self-mockery, no doubt, as he came to + reflect that it was he, himself, had had him fetched. + </p> + <p> + “They needed another witness,” said Mr. Caryll, “and hearing there was at + the inn a gentleman newly crossed from France, his lordship no doubt + opined that a traveller, here to-day and gone for good tomorrow, would be + just the witness that he needed for the business he proposed. That + circumstance aroused my suspicions, and—” + </p> + <p> + But the earl, as usual, seemed to have fastened upon the minor point, + although again it was not so. “You are newly crossed from France?” said + he. “Ay, and your name is the same as mine. 'Twas what I was advised.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll flashed a sidelong glance at Rotherby, who had turned to stare + at his father, and in his heart he cursed the stupidity of my Lord + Ostermore. If this proposed to be a member of a conspiracy, Heaven help + that same conspiracy! + </p> + <p> + “Were you, by any chance, going to seek me in town, Mr. Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll suppressed a desire to laugh. Here was a way to deal with State + secrets. “I, my lord?” he inquired, with an assumed air of surprise. + </p> + <p> + The earl looked at him, and from him to Rotherby, bethought himself, and + started so overtly that Rotherby's eyes grew narrow, the lines of his + mouth tightened. “Nay, of course not; of course not,” he blustered + clumsily. + </p> + <p> + But Rotherby laughed aloud. “Now what a plague is all this mystery?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Mystery?” quoth my lord. “What mystery should there be?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis what I would fain be informed,” he answered in a voice that showed + he meant to gain the information. He sauntered forward towards Caryll, his + eye playing mockingly over this gentleman from France. “Now, sir,” said + he, “whose messenger may you be, eh? What's all this—” + </p> + <p> + “Rotherby!” the earl interrupted in a voice intended to be compelling. + “Come away, Mr. Caryll,” he added quickly. “I'll not have any gentleman + who has shown himself a friend to my ward, here, affronted by that rascal. + Come away, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast! Not so fast, ecod!” + </p> + <p> + It was another voice that broke in upon them. Rotherby started round. + Gaskell, in the shadows of the cowled fireplace jumped in sheer alarm. All + stared at the window whence the voice proceeded. + </p> + <p> + They beheld a plump, chubby-faced little man, astride the sill, a pistol + displayed with ostentation in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was the only one with the presence of mind to welcome him. + “Ha!” said he, smiling engagingly. “My little friend, the brewer of ale.” + </p> + <p> + “Let no one leave this room,” said Mr. Green with a great dignity. Then, + with rather less dignity, he whistled shrilly through his fingers, and got + down lightly into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” blustered the earl, “this is an intrusion; an impertinence. What do + you want?” + </p> + <p> + “The papers this gentleman carries,” said Mr. Green, indicating Caryll + with the hand that held the pistol. The earl looked alarmed, which was + foolish in him, thought Mr. Caryll. Rotherby covered his mouth with his + hand, after the fashion of one who masks a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're rightly served for meddling,” said he with relish. + </p> + <p> + “Out with them,” the chubby man demanded. “Ye'll gain nothing by + resistance. So don't be obstinate, now.” + </p> + <p> + “I could be nothing so discourteous,” said Mr. Caryll. “Would it be prying + on my part to inquire what may be your interest in my papers?” + </p> + <p> + His serenity lessened the earl's anxieties, but bewildered him; and it + took the edge off the malicious pleasure which Rotherby was beginning to + experience. + </p> + <p> + “I am obeying the orders of my Lord Carteret, the Secretary of State,” + said Mr. Green. “I was to watch for a gentleman from France with letters + for my Lord Ostermore. He had a messenger a week ago to tell him to look + for such a visitor. He took the messenger, if you must know, and—well, + we induced him to tell us what was the message he had carried. There is so + much mystery in all this that my Lord Carteret desires more knowledge on + the subject. I think you are the gentleman I am looking for.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked him over with an amused eye, and laughed. “It distresses + me,” said he, “to see so much good thought wasted.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green was abashed a moment. But he recovered quickly; no doubt he had + met the cool type before. “Come, come!” said he. “No blustering. Out with + your papers, my fine fellow.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and a couple of men came in; over their shoulders, ere + the door closed again, Mr. Caryll had a glimpse of the landlady's rosy + face, alarm in her glance. The newcomers were dirty rogues; tipstaves, + recognizable at a glance. One of them wore a ragged bob-wig—the + cast-off, no doubt, of some gentleman's gentleman, fished out of the + sixpenny tub in Rosemary Lane; it was ill-fitting, and wisps of the + fellow's own unkempt hair hung out in places. The other wore no wig at + all; his yellow thatch fell in streaks from under his shabby hat, which he + had the ill-manners to retain until Lord Ostermore knocked it from his + head with a blow of his cane. Both were fierily bottle-nosed, and neither + appeared to have shaved for a week or so. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” quoth Mr. Green, “will you hand them over of your own accord, or + must I have you searched?” And a wave of the hand towards the advancing + myrmidons indicated the searchers. + </p> + <p> + “You go too far, sir,” blustered the earl. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, surely,” put in Mr. Caryll. “You are mad to think a gentleman is to + submit to being searched by any knave that comes to him with a + cock-and-bull tale about the Secretary of State.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green leered again, and produced a paper. “There,” said he, “is my + Lord Carteret's warrant, signed and sealed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll glanced over it with a disdainful eye. “It is in blank,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” agreed Mr. Green. “Carte blanche, as you say over the water. If + you insist,” he offered obligingly, “I'll fill in your name before we + proceed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll shrugged his shoulders. “It might be well,” said he, “if you + are to search me at all.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green advanced to the table. The writing implements provided for the + wedding were still there. He took up a pen, scrawled a name across the + blank, dusted it with sand, and presented it again to Mr. Caryll. The + latter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not trouble you to search me,” said he. “I would as soon not have + these noblemen of yours for my valets.” He thrust his hands into the + pockets of his fine coat, and brought forth several papers. These he + proffered to Mr. Green, who took them between satisfaction and amazement. + Ostermore stared, too stricken for words at this meek surrender; and well + was it for Mr. Caryll that he was so stricken, for had he spoken he had + assuredly betrayed himself. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia, Mr. Caryll observed, watched his cowardly yielding with an eye + of stern contempt. Rotherby looked on with a dark face that betrayed + nothing. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Green was running through the papers, and as fast as he ran + through them he permitted himself certain comments that passed for humor + with his followers. There could be no doubt that in his own social stratum + Mr. Green must have been accounted something of a wag. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! What's this? A bill! A bill for snuff! My Lord Carteret'll snuff you, + sir. He'll tobacco you, ecod! He'll smoke you first, and snuff you + afterwards.” He flung the bill aside. “Phew!” he whistled. “Verses! 'To + Theocritus upon sailing for Albion.' That's mighty choice! D'ye write + verses, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Heyday! 'Tis an occupation to which I have succumbed in moments of + weakness. I crave your indulgence, Mr. Green.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green perceived that here was a weak attempt at irony, and went on + with his investigations. He came to the last of the papers Mr. Caryll had + handed him, glanced at it, swore coarsely, and dropped it. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye think ye can bubble me?'” he cried, red in the face. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore heaved a sigh of relief; the hard look had faded from + Hortensia's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is't ye mean, giving me this rubbish?” + </p> + <p> + “I offer you my excuses for the contents of my pockets,” said Mr. Caryll. + “Ye see, I did not expect to be honored by your inquisition. Had I but + known—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green struck an attitude. “Now attend to me, sir! I am a servant of + His Majesty's Government.” + </p> + <p> + “His Majesty's Government cannot be sufficiently congratulated,” said Mr. + Caryll, the irrepressible. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green banged the table. “Are ye rallying me, ecod!” + </p> + <p> + “You have upset the ink,” Mr. Caryll pointed out to him. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the ink!” swore the spy. “And damn you for a Tom o' Bedlam! I ask + you again—what d'ye mean, giving me this rubbish?” + </p> + <p> + “You asked me to turn out my pockets.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked you for the letter ye have brought Lord Ostermore.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said Mr. Caryll, and eyed the other sympathetically. “I am + sorry to disappoint you. But, then, you assumed too much when you assumed + that I had such a letter. I have obliged you to the fullest extent in my + power. I do not think you show a becoming gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green eyed him blankly a moment; then exploded. “Ecod, sir! You are + cool.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a condition we do not appear to share.” + </p> + <p> + “D'ye say ye've brought his lordship no letter from France?” thundered the + spy. “What else ha' ye come to England for?” + </p> + <p> + “To study manners, sir,” said Mr. Caryll, bowing. + </p> + <p> + That was the last drop in the cup of Mr. Green's endurance. He waved his + men towards the gentleman from France. “Find it,” he bade them shortly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll drew himself up with a great dignity, and waved the bailiffs + back, his white face set, an unpleasant glimmer in his eyes. “A moment!” + he cried. “You have no authority to go to such extremes. I make no + objection to being searched; but every objection to being soiled, and I'll + not have the fingers of these scavengers about my person.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right, egad!” cried Lord Ostermore, advancing. “Harkee, you + dirty spy, this is no way to deal with gentlemen. Be off, now, and take + your carrion-crows with you, or I'll have my grooms in with their whips to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “To me?” roared Green. “I represent the Secretary of State.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll represent a side of raw venison if you tarry here,” the earl + promised him. “D'ye dare look me in the eye? D'ye dare, ye rogue? D'ye + know who I am? And don't wag that pistol, my fine fellow! Be off, now! + Away with you!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green looked his name. The rosiness was all departed from his cheeks; + he quivered with suppressed wrath. “If I go—giving way to constraint—what + shall you say to my Lord Carteret?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What concern may that be of yours, sirrah?'' + </p> + <p> + “It will be some concern of yours, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll interposed. “The knave is right,” said he. “It were to + implicate your lordship. It were to give color to his silly suspicions. + Let him make his search. But be so good as to summon my valet. He shall + hand you my garments that you may do your will upon them. But unless you + justify yourself by finding the letter you are seeking, you shall have to + reckon with the consequences of discomposing a gentleman for nothing. Now, + sir! Is it a bargain?” Mr. Green looked him over, and if he was shaken by + the calm assurance of Mr. Caryll's tone and manner, he concealed it very + effectively. “We'll make no bargains,” said he. “I have my duty to do.” He + signed to one of the bailiffs. “Fetch the gentleman's servant,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said Mr. Caryll. “But you take too much upon yourself, sir. + Your duty, I think, would have been to arrest me and carry me to Lord + Carteret's, there to be searched if his lordship considered it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no cause to arrest you until I find it,” Mr. Green snapped + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Your logic is faultless.” + </p> + <p> + “I am following my Lord Carteret's orders to the letter. I am to effect no + arrest until I have positive evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are detaining me. What does this amount to but an arrest?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green disdained to answer. Leduc entered, and Mr. Caryll turned to + Lord Ostermore. + </p> + <p> + “There is no reason why I should detain your lordship,” said he, “and + these operations—The lady—” He waved an expressive hand, bent + an expressive eye upon the earl. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore seemed to waver. He was not—he had never been—a + man to think for others. But Hortensia cut in before he could reply. + </p> + <p> + “We will wait,” she said. “Since you are travelling to town, I am sure his + lordship will be glad of your company, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked deep into those great brown eyes, and bowed his thanks. + “If it will not discompose your lordship—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Ostermore, gruff of voice and manner. “We will wait. I + shall be honored, sir, if you will journey with us afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll bowed again, and went to hold the door for them, Mr. Green's + eyes keenly alert for an attempt at evasion. But there was none. When his + lordship and his ward had departed, Mr. Caryll turned to Rotherby, who had + taken a chair, his man Gaskell behind him. He looked from the viscount to + Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + “Do we require this gentleman?” he asked the spy. + </p> + <p> + A smile broke over Rotherby's swam face. “By your leave, sir, I'll remain + to see fair play. You may find me useful, Mr. Green. I have no cause to + wish this marplot well,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll turned his back upon him, took off his coat and waistcoat. He + sat down while Mr. Green spread the garments upon the table, emptied out + the pockets, turned down the cuffs, ripped up the satin linings. He did it + in a consummate fashion, very thoroughly. Yet, though he parted the + linings from the cloth, he did so in such a manner as to leave the + garments easily repairable. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll watched him with interest and appreciation, and what time he + watched he was wondering might it not be better straightway to place the + spy in possession of the letter, and thus destroy himself and Lord + Ostermore, at the same time—and have done with the task on which he + was come to England. It seemed almost an easy way out of the affair. His + betrayal of the earl would be less ugly if he, himself, were to share the + consequences of that betrayal. + </p> + <p> + Then he checked his thoughts. What manner of mood was this? Besides, his + inclination was all to become better acquainted with this odd family upon + which he had stumbled in so extraordinary a manner. Down in his heart of + hearts he had a feeling that the thing he was come to do would never be + done—leastways, not by him. It was in vain that he might attempt to + steel himself to the task. It repelled him. It went not with a nature such + as his. + </p> + <p> + He thought of Everard, afire with the idea of vengence and to such an + extent that he had succeeded in infecting Justin himself with a spark of + it. He thought of him with pity almost; pity that a man should obsess his + life by such a phantasm as this same vengeance must have been to him. Was + it worth while? Was anything worth while, he wondered. + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby approached the table, and took up the garments upon which + Mr. Green had finished. He turned them over and supplemented Mr. Green's + search. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're welcome to all that ye can find,” sneered Mr. Green, and turned to + Mr. Caryll. “Let us have your shoes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll removed his shoes, in silence, and Mr. Green proceeded to + examine them in a manner that provoked Mr. Caryll's profound admiration. + He separated the lining from the Spanish leather, and probed slowly and + carefully in the space between. He examined the heels very closely, going + over to the window for the purpose. That done, he dropped them. + </p> + <p> + “Your breeches now,” said he laconically. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Leduc had taken up the coat, and with a needle and thread + wherewith he had equipped himself he was industriously restoring the + stitches that Mr. Green had taken out. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll surrendered his breeches. His fine Holland shirt went next, his + stockings and what other trifles he wore, until he stood as naked as Adam + before the fall. Yet all in vain. + </p> + <p> + His garments were restored to him, one by one, and one by one, with + Leduc's aid, he resumed them. Mr. Green was looking crestfallen. + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied?” inquired Mr. Caryll pleasantly, his good temper + inexhaustible. + </p> + <p> + The spy looked at him with a moody eye, plucking thoughtfully at his lip + with thumb and forefinger. Then he brightened suddenly. “There's your + man,” said he, flashing a quick eye upon Leduc, who looked up with a quiet + smile. + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Mr. Caryll, “and there's my portmantle above-stairs, and my + saddle on my horse in the stables. It is even possible, for aught you + know, that there may be a hollow tooth or two in my head. Pray let your + search be thorough.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green considered him again. “If you had it, it would be upon your + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet consider,” Mr. Caryll begged him, holding out his foot that Leduc + might put on his shoe again, “I might have supposed that you would suppose + that, and disposed accordingly. You had better investigate to the bitter + end.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green's small eyes continued to scrutinize Leduc at intervals. The + valet was a silent, serious-faced fellow. “I'll search your servant, + leastways,” the spy announced. + </p> + <p> + “By all means. Leduc, I beg that you will place yourself at this + interesting gentleman's disposal.” + </p> + <p> + What time Mr. Caryll, unaided now, completed the resumption of his + garments, Leduc, silent and expressionless, submitted to being searched. + </p> + <p> + “You will observe, Leduc,” said Mr. Caryll, “that we have not come to this + country in vain. We are undergoing experiences that would be interesting + if they were not quite so dull, amusing if they entailed less discomfort + to ourselves. Assuredly, it was worth while to cross to England to study + manners. And there are sights for you that you will never see in France. + You would not, for instance, had you not come hither, have had an + opportunity of observing a member of the noblesse seconding and assisting + a tipstaff in the discharge of his duty. And doing it just as a hog + wallows in foulness—for the love of it. + </p> + <p> + “The gentlemen in your country, Leduc, are too fastidious to enjoy life as + it should be enjoyed; they are too prone to adhere to the amusements of + their class. You have here an opportunity of perceiving how deeply they + are mistaken, what relish may lie in setting one's rank on one side, in + forgetting at times that by an accident—a sheer, incredible + accident, I assure you, Leduc—one may have been born to a + gentleman's estate.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby had drawn himself up, his dark face crimsoning. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye talk at me, sir?” he demanded. “D'ye dare discuss me with your + lackey?” + </p> + <p> + “But why not, since you search me with my tipstaff! If you can perceive a + difference, you are too subtle for me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby advanced a step; then checked. He inherited mental sluggishness + from his father. “You are insolent!” he charged Caryll. “You insult me.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Ha! I am working miracles.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby governed his anger by an effort. “There was enough between us + without this,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “There could not be too much between us—too much space, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount looked at him furiously. “I shall discuss this further with + you,” said he. “The present is not the time nor place. But I shall know + where to look for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Leduc, I am sure, will always be pleased to see you. He, too, is studying + manners.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby ignored the insult. “We shall see, then, whether you can do + anything more than talk.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that your lordship, too, is master of other accomplishments. As a + talker, I do not find you very gifted. But perhaps Leduc will be less + exigent than I.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” his lordship flung at him, and went out, cursing him profusely, + Gaskell following at his master's heels. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MOONSHINE + </h2> + <p> + My Lord Ostermore, though puzzled, entertained no tormenting anxiety on + the score of the search to which Mr. Caryll was to be submitted. He + assured himself from that gentleman's confident, easy manner—being a + man who always drew from things the inference that was obvious—that + either he carried no such letter as my lord expected, or else he had so + disposed of it as to baffle search. + </p> + <p> + So, for the moment, he dismissed the subject from his mind. With Hortensia + he entered the parlor across the stone-flagged passage, to which the + landlady ushered them, and turned whole-heartedly to the matter of his + ward's elopement with his son. + </p> + <p> + “Hortensia,” said he, when they were alone. “You have been foolish; very + foolish.” He had a trick of repeating himself, conceiving, no doubt, that + the commonplace achieves distinction by repetition. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia sat in an arm-chair by the window, and sighed, looking out over + the downs. “Do I not know it?” she cried, and the eyes which were averted + from his lordship were charred with tears—tears of hot anger, shame + and mortification. “God help all women!” she added bitterly, after a + moment, as many another woman under similar and worse circumstances has + cried before and since. + </p> + <p> + A more feeling man might have conceived that this was a moment in which to + leave her to herself and her own thoughts, and in that it is possible that + a more feeling man had been mistaken. Ostermore, stolid and unimaginative, + but not altogether without sympathy for his ward, of whom he was + reasonably fond—as fond, no doubt, as it was his capacity to be for + any other than himself—approached her and set a plump hand upon the + back of her chair. + </p> + <p> + “What was it drove you to this?” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him almost fiercely. “My Lady Ostermore,” she answered + him. + </p> + <p> + His lordship frowned, and his eyes shifted uneasily from her face. In his + heart he disliked his wife excessively, disliked her because she was the + one person in the world who governed him, who rode rough-shod over his + feelings and desires; because, perhaps, she was the mother of his + unfeeling, detestable son. She may not have been the only person living to + despise Lord Ostermore; but she was certainly the only one with the + courage to manifest her contempt, and that in no circumscribed terms. And + yet, disliking her as he did, returning with interest her contempt of him, + he veiled it, and was loyal to his termagant, never suffering himself to + utter a complaint of her to others, never suffering others to censure her + within his hearing. This loyalty may have had its roots in pride—indeed, + no other soil can be assigned to them—a pride that would allow no + strangers to pry into the sore places of his being. He frowned now to hear + Hortensia's angry mention of her ladyship's name; and if his blue eyes + moved uneasily under his beetling brows, it was because the situation + irked him. How should he stand as judge between Mistress Winthrop—towards + whom, as we have seen, he had a kindness—and his wife, whom he + hated, yet towards whom he would not be disloyal? + </p> + <p> + He wished the subject dropped, since, did he ask the obvious question—in + what my Lady Ostermore could have been the cause of Hortensia's flight—he + would provoke, he knew, a storm of censure from his wife. Therefore he + fell silent. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia, however, felt that she had said too much not to say more. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship has never failed to make me feel my position—my—my + poverty,” she pursued. “There is no slight her ladyship has not put upon + me, until not even your servants use me with the respect that is due to my + father's daughter. And my father,” she added, with a reproachful glance, + “was your friend, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, deploring now the question with + which he had fired the train of feminine complaint. “Pish, pish!” he + deprecated, “'tis fancy, child—pure fancy!” + </p> + <p> + “So her Ladyship would say, did you tax her with it. Yet your lordship + knows I am not fanciful in other things. Should I, then, be fanciful in + this?” + </p> + <p> + “But what has her ladyship ever done, child?” he demanded, thinking thus + to baffle her—since he was acquainted with the subtlety of her + ladyship's methods. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand things,” replied Hortensia hotly, “and yet not one upon which + I may fasten. 'Tis thus she works: by words, half-words, looks, sneers, + shrugs, and sometimes foul abuse entirely disproportionate to the little + cause I may unwittingly have given.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship is a little hot,” the earl admitted, “but a good heart; 'tis + an excellent heart, Hortensia.” + </p> + <p> + “For hating-ay, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, plague on't! That's womanish in you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!” + </p> + <p> + “What else would you have a woman? Mannish and raffish, like my Lady + Ostermore?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not listen to you,” he said. “Ye're not just, Hortensia. Ye're + heated; heated! I'll not listen to you. Besides, when all is said, what + reasons be these for the folly ye've committed?” + </p> + <p> + “Reasons?” she echoed scornfully. “Reasons and to spare! Her ladyship has + made my life so hard, has so shamed and crushed me, put such indignities + upon me, that existence grew unbearable under your roof. It could not + continue, my lord,” she pursued, rising under the sway of her indignation. + “It could not continue. I am not of the stuff that goes to making martyrs. + I am weak, and—and—as your lordship has said—womanish.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you talk a deal,” said his lordship peevishly. But she did not + heed the sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Rotherby,” she continued, “offered me the means to escape. He urged + me to elope with him. His reason was that you would never consent to our + marriage; but that if we took the matter into our hands, and were married + first, we might depend upon your sanction afterwards; that you had too + great a kindness for me to withhold your pardon. I was weak, my lord—womanish,” + (she threw the word at him again) “and it happened—God help me for a + fool!—that I thought I loved Lord Rotherby. And so—and so—” + </p> + <p> + She sat down again, weakly, miserably, averting her face that she might + hide her tears. He was touched, and he even went so far as to show + something of his sympathy. He approached her again, and laid a benign hand + lightly upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “But—but—in that case—Oh, the damned villain!—why + this mock-parson?” + </p> + <p> + “Does your lordship not perceive? Must I die of shame? Do you not see?” + </p> + <p> + “See? No!” He was thoughtful a second; then repeated, “No!” + </p> + <p> + “I understood,” she informed him, a smile—a cruelly bitter smile—lifting + and steadying the corner of her lately quivering lip, “when he alluded to + your lordship's straitened circumstances. He has no disinheritance to fear + because he has no inheritance to look for beyond the entail, of which you + cannot disinherit him. My Lord Rotherby sets a high value upon himself. He + may—I do not know—he may have been in love with me—though + not as I know love, which is all sacrifice, all self-denial. But by his + lights he may have cared for me; he must have done, by his lights. Had I + been a lady of fortune, not a doubt but he would have made me his wife; as + it was, he must aim at a more profitable marriage, and meanwhile, to + gratify his love for me—base as it was—he would—he would—O + God! I cannot say it. You understand, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + My lord swore strenuously. “There is a punishment for such a crime as + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, my lord—and a way to avoid punishment for a gentleman in your + son's position, even did I flaunt my shame in some vain endeavor to have + justice—a thing he knew I never could have done.” + </p> + <p> + My lord swore again. “He shall be punished,” he declared emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. God will see to that,” she said, a world of faith in her + quivering voice. + </p> + <p> + My lord's eyes expressed his doubt of divine intervention. He preferred to + speak for himself. “I'll disown the dog. He shall not enter my house + again. You shall not be reminded of what has happened here. Gad! You were + shrewd to have smoked his motives so!” he cried in a burst of admiration + for her insight. “Gad, child! Shouldst have been a lawyer! A lawyer!” + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for Mr. Caryll—” she began, but to what else she + said he lent no ear, being suddenly brought back to his fears at the + mention of that gentleman's name. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Caryll! Save us! What is keeping him?” he cried. “Can they—can + they—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Mr. Caryll walked in, ushered by the hostess. Both + turned to confront him, Hortensia's eyes swollen from her weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” quoth his lordship. “Did they find nothing?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll advanced with the easy, graceful carriage that was one of his + main charms, his clothes so skilfully restored by Leduc that none could + have guessed the severity of the examination they had undergone. + </p> + <p> + “Since I am here, and alone, your lordship may conclude such to be the + case. Mr. Green is preparing for departure. He is very abject; very + chap-fallen. I am almost sorry for Mr. Green. I am by nature sympathetic. + I have promised to make my complaint to my Lord Carteret. And so, I trust + there is an end to a tiresome matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But then, sir?” quoth his lordship. “But then—are you the bearer of + no letter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll shot a swift glance over his shoulder at the door. He + deliberately winked at the earl. “Did your lordship expect letters?” he + inquired. “That was scarcely reason enough to suppose me a courier. There + is some mistake, I imagine.” + </p> + <p> + Between the wink and the words his lordship was bewildered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll turned to the lady, bowing. Then he waved a hand over the + downs. “A fine view,” said he airily, and she stared at him. “I shall + treasure sweet memories of Maidstone.” Her stare grew stonier. Did he mean + the landscape or some other matter? His tone was difficult to read—a + feature peculiar to his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Not so shall I, sir,” she made answer. “I shall never think of it other + than with burning cheeks—unless it be with gratitude to your + shrewdness which saved me.” + </p> + <p> + “No more, I beg. It is a matter painful to you to dwell on. Let me exhort + you to forget it. I have already done so.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a sweet courtesy in you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am compounded of sweet courtesy,” he informed her modestly. + </p> + <p> + His lordship spoke of departure, renewing his offer to carry Mr. Caryll to + town in his chaise. Meanwhile, Mr. Caryll was behaving curiously. He was + tiptoeing towards the door, along the wall, where he was out of line with + the keyhole. He reached it suddenly, and abruptly pulled it open. There + was a squeal, and Mr. Green rolled forward into the room. Mr. Caryll + kicked him out again before he could rise, and called Leduc to throw him + outside. And that was the last they saw of Mr. Green at Maidstone. + </p> + <p> + They set out soon afterwards, Mr. Caryll travelling in his lordship's + chaise, and Leduc following in his master's. + </p> + <p> + It was an hour or so after candle-lighting time when they reached Croydon, + the country lying all white under a full moon that sailed in a clear, calm + sky. His lordship swore that he would go no farther that night. The + travelling fatigued him; indeed, for the last few miles of the journey he + had been dozing in his corner of the carriage, conversation having long + since been abandoned as too great an effort on so bad a road, which shook + and jolted them beyond endurance. His lordship's chaise was of an + old-fashioned pattern, and the springs far from what might have been + desired or expected in a nobleman's conveyance. + </p> + <p> + They alighted at the “Bells.” His lordship bespoke supper, invited Mr. + Caryll to join them, and, what time the meal was preparing, went into a + noisy doze in the parlor's best chair. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Winthrop sauntered out into the garden. The calm and fragrance of + the night invited her. Alone with her thoughts, she paced the lawn a + while, until her solitude was disturbed by the advent of Mr. Caryll. He, + too, had need to think, and he had come out into the peace of the night to + indulge his need. Seeing her, he made as if to withdraw again; but she + perceived him, and called him to her side. He went most readily. Yet when + he stood before her in an attitude of courteous deference, she was at a + loss what she should say to him, or, rather, what words she should employ. + At last, with a half-laugh of nervousness, “I am by nature very + inquisitive, sir,” she prefaced. + </p> + <p> + “I had already judged you to be an exceptional woman,” Mr. Caryll + commented softly. + </p> + <p> + She mused an instant. “Are you never serious?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Is it worth while?” he counter-questioned, and, whether intent or + accident, he let her see something of himself. “Is it even amusing—to + be serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there in life nothing but amusement?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—but nothing so vital. I speak with knowledge. The gift of + laughter has been my salvation.” + </p> + <p> + “From what, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—who shall say that? My history and my rearing have been such + that had I bowed before them, I had become the most gloomy, melancholy man + that steps this gloomy, melancholy world. By now I might have found + existence insupportable, and so—who knows? I might have set a term + to it. But I had the wisdom to prefer laughter. Humanity is a delectable + spectacle if we but have the gift to observe it in a dispassionate spirit. + Such a gift have I cultivated. The squirming of the human worm is + interesting to observe, and the practice of observing it has this + advantage, that while we observe it we forget to squirm ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “The bitterness of your words belies their purport.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged and smiled. “But proves my contention. That I might explain + myself, you made me for a moment serious, set me squirming in my turn.” + </p> + <p> + She moved a little, and he fell into step beside her. A little while there + was silence. + </p> + <p> + Presently—“You find me, no doubt, as amusing as any other of your + human worms,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” he answered soberly. + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “You make an exception in my case, then. That is a subtle + flattery!” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not said that I had judged you to be an exceptional woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Exceptionally foolish, not a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Exceptionally beautiful; exceptionally admirable,” he corrected. + </p> + <p> + “A clumsy compliment, devoid of wit!” + </p> + <p> + “When we grow truthful, it may be forgiven us if we fall short of wit.” + </p> + <p> + “That were an argument in favor of avoiding truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Were it necessary,” said he. “For truth is seldom so intrusive as to need + avoiding. But we are straying. There was a score upon which you were + inquisitive, you said; from which I take it that you sought knowledge at + my hands. Pray seek it; I am a well, of knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “I desired to know—Nay, but I have asked you already. I desired to + know did you deem me a very pitiful little fool?” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the privet hedge, and turned. They paused now before + resuming their walk. He paused, also, before replying. Then: + </p> + <p> + “I should judge you wise in most things,” he answered slowly, critically. + “But in the matter to which I owe the blessing of having served you, I do + not think you wise. Did you—do you love Lord Rotherby?” + </p> + <p> + “What if so?” + </p> + <p> + “After what you have learned, I should account you still less wise.” + </p> + <p> + “You are impertinent, sir,” she reproved him. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, most pertinent. Did you not ask me to sit in judgment upon this + matter? And unless you confess to me, how am I to absolve you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not crave your absolution. You take too much upon yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “So said Lord Rotherby. You seem to have something in common when all is + said.” + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip in chagrin. They paced in silence to the lawn's end, and + turned again. Then: “You treat me like a fool,” she reproved him. + </p> + <p> + “How is that possible, when, already I think I love you.” + </p> + <p> + She started from him, and stared at him for a long moment. “You insult + me!” she cried angrily, conceiving that she understood his mind. “Do you + think that because I may have committed a folly I have forfeited all claim + to be respected—that I am a subject for insolent speeches?” + </p> + <p> + “You are illogical,” said Mr. Caryll, the imperturbable. “I have told you + that I love you. Should I insult the woman I have said I love?” + </p> + <p> + “You love me?” She looked at him, her face very white in the white + moonlight, her lips parted, a kindling anger in her eyes. “Are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + “I a'n't sure. There have been moments when I have almost feared it. This + is not one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish me to think you serious?” She laughed a thought stridently in + her indignation. “I have known you just four hours,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely the time I think I have loved you.” + </p> + <p> + “You think?” she echoed scornfully. “Oh, you make that reservation! You + are not quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Can we be sure of anything?” he deprecated. + </p> + <p> + “Of some things,” she answered icily. “And I am sure of one—that I + am beginning to understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “I envy you. Since that is so, help me—of your charity!—to + understand myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then understand yourself for an impudent, fleering coxcomb,” she flung at + him, and turned to leave him. + </p> + <p> + “That is not explanation,” said Mr. Caryll thoughtfully. “It is mere + abuse.” + </p> + <p> + “What else do you deserve?” she asked him over her shoulder. “That you + should have dared!” she withered him. + </p> + <p> + “To love you quite so suddenly?” he inquired, and misquoted: “'Whoever + loved at all, that loved not at first sight?' Hortensia!” + </p> + <p> + “You have not the right to my name, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I offer you the right to mine,” he answered, with humble reproach. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be punished,” she promised him, and in high dudgeon left him. + </p> + <p> + “Punished? Oh, cruel! Can you then be— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee? + Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, + For proffered love will love repay.”' +</pre> + <p> + But she was gone. He looked up at the moon, and took it into his + confidence to reproach it. “'Twas your white face beglamored me,” he told + it aloud. “See, how execrable a beginning I've made, and, therefore, how + excellent!” And he laughed, but entirely without mirth. + </p> + <p> + He remained pacing in the moonlight, very thoughtful, and, for once, it + seemed, not at all amused. His life appeared to be tangling itself beyond + unravelling, and his vaunted habit of laughter scarce served at present to + show him the way out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. HORTENSIA'S RETURN + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caryll needs explaining as he walks there in the moonlight; that is, + if we are at all to understand him—a matter by no means easy, + considering that he has confessed he did not understand himself. Did ever + man make a sincere declaration of sudden passion as flippantly as he had + done, or in terms-better calculated to alienate the regard he sought to + win? Did ever man choose his time with less discrimination, or his words + with less discretion? Assuredly not. To suppose that Mr. Caryll was + unaware of this, would be to suppose him a fool, and that he most + certainly was not. + </p> + <p> + His mood was extremely complex; its analysis, I fear, may baffle us. It + must have seemed to you—as it certainly seemed to Mistress Winthrop—that + he made a mock of her; that in truth he was the impudent, fleering coxcomb + she pronounced him, and nothing more. Not so. Mock he most certainly did; + but his mockery was all aimed to strike himself on the recoil—himself + and the sentiments which had sprung to being in his soul, and to which—nameless + as he was, pledged as he was to a task that would most likely involve his + ruin—he conceived that he had no right. He gave expression to his + feelings, yet chose for them the expression best calculated to render them + barren of all consequence where Mistress Winthrop was concerned. Where + another would have hidden those emotions, Mr. Caryll elected to flaunt + them half-derisively, that Hortensia might trample them under foot in + sheer disgust. + </p> + <p> + It was, perhaps, the knowledge that did he wait, and come to her as an + honest, devout lover, he must in honesty tell her all there was to know of + his odd history and of his bastardy, and thus set up between them a + barrier insurmountable. Better, he may have thought, to make from the + outset a mockery of a passion for which there could be no hope. And so, + under that mocking, impertinent exterior, I hope you catch some glimpse of + the real, suffering man—the man who boasted that he had the gift of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + He continued a while to pace the dewy lawn after she had left him, and a + deep despondency descended upon the spirit of this man who accounted + seriousness a folly. Hitherto his rancor against his father had been a + theoretical rancor, a thing educated into him by Everard, and accepted by + him as we accept a proposition in Euclid that is proved to us. In its way + it had been a make-believe rancor, a rancor on principle, for he had been + made to see that unless he was inflamed by it, he was not worthy to be his + mother's son. Tonight had changed all this. No longer was his grievance + sentimental, theoretical or abstract. It was suddenly become real and very + bitter. It was no longer a question of the wrong done his mother thirty + years ago; it became the question of a wrong done himself in casting him + nameless upon the world, a thing of scorn to cruel, unjust humanity. Could + Mistress Winthrop have guessed the bitter self-derision with which he had, + in apparent levity, offered her his name, she might have felt some pity + for him who had no pity for himself. + </p> + <p> + And so, to-night he felt—as once for a moment Everard had made him + feel—that he had a very real wrong of his own to avenge upon his + father; and the task before him lost much of the repugnance that it had + held for him hitherto. + </p> + <p> + All this because four hours ago he had looked into the brown depths of + Mistress Winthrop's eyes. He sighed, and declaimed a line of Congreve's: + </p> + <p> + “'Woman is a fair image in a pool; who leaps at it is sunk.'” + </p> + <p> + The landlord came to bid him in to supper. He excused himself. Sent his + lordship word that he was over-tired, and went off to bed. + </p> + <p> + They met at breakfast, at an early hour upon the morrow, Mistress Winthrop + cool and distant; his lordship grumpy and mute; Mr. Caryll airy and + talkative as was his habit. They set out soon afterwards. But matters were + nowise improved. His lordship dozed in a corner of the carriage, while + Mistress Winthrop found more interest in the flowering hedgerows than in + Mr. Caryll, ignored him when he talked, and did not answer him when he set + questions; till, in the end, he, too, lapsed into silence, and as a + solatium for his soreness assured himself by lengthy, wordless arguments + that matters were best so. + </p> + <p> + They entered the outlying parts of London some two hours later, and it + still wanted an hour or so to noon when the chaise brought up inside the + railings before the earl's house in Lincoln's Inn Fields. + </p> + <p> + There came a rush of footmen, a bustle of service, amid which they + alighted and entered the splendid residence that was part of the little + that remained Lord Ostermore from the wreck his fortunes had suffered on + the shoals of the South Sea. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll paused a moment to dismiss Leduc to the address in Old Palace + Yard where he had hired a lodging. That done, he followed his lordship and + Hortensia within doors. + </p> + <p> + From the inner hall a footman ushered him across an ante-chamber to a room + on the right, which proved to be the library, and was his lordship's + habitual retreat. It was a spacious, pillared chamber, very richly + panelled in damask silk, and very richly furnished, having long French + windows that opened on a terrace above the garden. + </p> + <p> + As they entered there came a swift rustle of petticoats at their heels, + and Mr. Caryll stood aside, bowing, to give passage to a tall lady who + swept by with no more regard for him than had he been one of the house's + lackeys. She was, he observed, of middle-age, lean and aquiline-featured, + with an exaggerated chin, that ended squarely as boot. Her sallow cheeks + were raddled to a hectic color, a monstrous head-dress—like that of + some horse in a lord mayor's show—coiffed her, and her dress was a + mixture of extravagance and incongruity, the petticoat absurdly hooped. + </p> + <p> + She swept into the room like a battleship into action, and let fly her + first broadside at Mistress Winthrop from the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Codso!” she shrilled. “You have come back! And for what have you come + back? Am I to live in the same house with you, you shameless madam—that + have no more thought for your reputation than a slut in a smock-race?” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia raised indignant eyes from out of a face that was very pale. Her + lips were tightly pressed—in resolution, thought Mr. Caryll, who was + very observant of her—not to answer her ladyship; for Mr. Caryll had + little doubt as to the identity of this dragon. + </p> + <p> + “My love—my dear—” began his lordship, advancing a step, his + tone a very salve. Then, seeking to create a diversion, he waved a hand + towards Mr. Caryll. “Let me present—” + </p> + <p> + “Did I speak to you?” she turned to bombard him. “Have you not done harm + enough? Had you been aught but a fool—had you respected me as a + husband should—you had left well alone and let her go her ways.” + </p> + <p> + “There was my duty to her father, to say aught of—” + </p> + <p> + “And what of your duty to me?” she blazed, her eyes puckering most + malignantly. She reminded Mr. Caryll of nothing so much as a vulture. “Had + ye forgotten that? Have ye no thought for decency—no respect for + your wife?” + </p> + <p> + Her strident voice was echoing through the house and drawing a little + crowd of gaping servants to the hall. To spare Mistress Winthrop, Mr. + Caryll took it upon himself to close the door. The countess turned at the + sound. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” she asked, measuring the elegant figure with an evil eye. + And Mr. Caryll felt it in his bones that she had done him the honor to + dislike him at sight. + </p> + <p> + “It is a gentleman who—who—” His lordship thought it better, + apparently, not to explain the exact circumstances under which he had met + the gentleman. He shifted ground. “I was about to present him, my love. It + is Mr. Caryll—Mr. Justin Caryll. This, sir, is my Lady Ostermore.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll made her a profound bow. Her ladyship retorted with a sniff. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a kinsman of yours, my lord?” and the contempt of the question was + laden with a suggestion that smote Mr. Caryll hard. What she implied in + wanton offensive mockery was no more than he alone present knew to be the + exact and hideous truth. + </p> + <p> + “Some remote kinsman, I make no doubt,” the earl explained. “Until + yesterday I had not the honor of his acquaintance. Mr. Caryll is from + France.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then,” were her first, uncompromising + words to the guest. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll made her another bow. “If I were, I should make no secret of it + with your ladyship,” he answered with that irritating suavity in which he + clothed his most obvious sarcasms. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship opened her eyes a little wider. Here was a tone she was + unused to. “And what may your business with his lordship be?” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship's business, I think,” answered Mr. Caryll in a tone of such + exquisite politeness and deference that the words seemed purged of all + their rudeness. + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer me so, sir?” she demanded, nevertheless, her voice + quivering. + </p> + <p> + “My love!” interpolated his lordship hurriedly, his florid face aflush. + “We are vastly indebted to Mr. Caryll, as you shall learn. It was he who + saved Hortensia.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved the drab, did he? And from what, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” It was Hortensia who spoke. She had risen, pale with anger, and + she made appeal now to her guardian. “My lord, I'll not remain to be so + spoken of. Suffer me to go. That her ladyship should so speak of me to my + face—and to a stranger!” + </p> + <p> + “Stranger!” crowed her ladyship. “Lard! And what d'ye suppose will happen? + Are you so nice about a stranger hearing what I may have to say of you—you + that will be the talk of the whole lewd town for this fine escapade? And + what'll the town say of you?” + </p> + <p> + “My love!” his lordship sought again to soothe her. “Sylvia, let me + implore you! A little moderation! A little charity! Hortensia has been + foolish. She confesses so much, herself. Yet, when all is said, 'tis not + she is to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I?” + </p> + <p> + “My love! Was it suggested?” + </p> + <p> + “I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel! Oh, Hortensia is not to blame, the + sweet, pure dove! What is she, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To be pitied, ma'am,” said his lordship, stirred to sudden anger, “that + she should have lent an ear to your disreputable son.” + </p> + <p> + “My son? My son?” cried her ladyship, her voice more and more strident, + her face flushing till the rouge upon it was put to shame, revealed in all + its unnatural hideousness. “And is he not your son, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “There are moments,” he answered hardily, “when I find it difficult to + believe.” + </p> + <p> + It was much for him to say, and to her ladyship, of all people. It was + pure mutiny. She gasped for air; pumped her brain for words. Meantime, his + lordship continued with an eloquence entirely unusual in him and prompted + entirely by his strong feelings in the matter of his son. “He is a + disgrace to his name! He always has been. When a boy, he was a liar and a + thief, and had he had his deserts he had been lodged in Newgate long ago—or + worse. Now that he's a man, he's an abandoned profligate, a brawler, a + drunkard, a rakehell. So much I have long known him for; but to-day he has + shown himself for something even worse. I had thought that my ward, at + least, had been sacred from his villainy. That is the last drop. I'll not + condone it. Damn me! I can't condone it. I'll disown him. He shall not set + foot in house of mine again. Let him keep the company of his Grace of + Wharton and his other abandoned friends of the Hell Fire Club; he keeps + not mine. He keeps not mine, I say!” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship swallowed hard. From red that she had been, she was now ashen + under her rouge. “And, is this wanton baggage to keep mine? Is she to + disgrace a household that has grown too nice to contain your son?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord! Oh, my lord, give me leave to go,” Hortensia entreated. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, go,” sneered her ladyship. “Go! You had best go—back to him. + What for did ye leave him? Did ye dream there could be aught to return + to?” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia turned to her guardian again appealingly. But her ladyship bore + down upon her, incensed by this ignoring; she caught the girl's wrist in + her claw-like hand. “Answer me, you drab! What for did you return? What is + to be done with you now that y' are soiled goods? Where shall we find a + husband for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want a husband, madam,” answered Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “Will ye lead apes in hell, then? Bah! 'Tis not what ye want, my fine + madam; 'tis what we can get you; and where shall we find you a husband + now?” + </p> + <p> + Her eye fell upon Mr. Caryll, standing by one of the windows, a look of + profound disgust overplaying the usually immobile face. “Perhaps the + gentleman from France—the gentleman who saved you,” she sneered, + “will propose to take the office.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, ma'am,” Mr. Caryll startled them and himself by + answering. Then, perceiving that he had spoken too much upon impulse—given + utterance to what was passing in his mind—“I but mention it to show + your ladyship how mistaken are your conclusions,” he added. + </p> + <p> + The countess loosed her hold of Hortensia's wrist in her amazement, and + looked the gentleman from France up and down in a mighty scornful manner. + “Codso!” she swore, “I may take it, then, that your saving her—as ye + call it—was no accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it was, ma'am—and a most fortunate accident for your son.” + </p> + <p> + “For my son? As how?” + </p> + <p> + “It saved him from hanging, ma'am,” Mr. Caryll informed her, and gave her + something other than the baiting of Hortensia to occupy her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Hang?” she gasped. “Are you speaking of Lord Rotherby?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, of Lord Rotherby—and not a word more than is true,” put in the + earl. “Do you know—but you do not—the extent of your precious + son's villainy? At Maidstone, where I overtook them—at the Adam and + Eve—he had a make-believe parson, and he was luring this poor child + into a mock-marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship stared. “Mock-marriage?” she echoed. “Marriage? La!” And + again she vented her unpleasant laugh. “Did she insist on that, the prude? + Y' amaze me!” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, my love, you do not apprehend. Had Lord Rotherby's parson not + been detected and unmasked by Mr. Caryll, here—” + </p> + <p> + “Would you ha' me believe she did not know the fellow was no parson?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Hortensia. “Your ladyship has a very wicked soul. May God + forgive you!” + </p> + <p> + “And who is to forgive you?” snapped the countess. + </p> + <p> + “I need no forgiveness, for I have done no wrong. A folly, I confess to. I + was mad to have heeded such a villain.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship gathered forces for a fresh assault. But Mr. Caryll + anticipated it. It was no doubt a great impertinence in him; but he saw + Hortensia's urgent need, and he felt, moreover, that not even Lord + Ostermore would resent his crossing swords a moment with her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “You would do well, ma'am, to remember,” said he, in his singularly + precise voice, “that Lord Rotherby even now—and as things have + fallen out—is by no means quit of all danger.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at this smooth gentleman, and his words burned themselves into + her brain. She quivered with mingling fear and anger. + </p> + <p> + “Wha'—what is't ye mean?” quoth she. + </p> + <p> + “That even at this hour, if the matter were put about, his lordship might + be brought to account for it, and it might fare very ill with him. The law + of England deals heavily with an offense such as Lord Rotherby's, and the + attempt at a mock-marriage, of which there is no lack of evidence, would + so aggravate the crime of abduction, if he were informed against, that it + might go very hard with him.” + </p> + <p> + Her jaw fell. She caught more than an admonition in his words. It almost + seemed to her that he was threatening. + </p> + <p> + “Who—who is to inform?” she asked point-blank, her tone a challenge; + and yet the odd change in it from its recent aggressiveness was almost + ludicrous. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—who?” said Mr. Caryll, raising his eyes and fetching a sigh. “It + would appear that a messenger from the Secretary of State—on another + matter—was at the Adam and Eve at the time with two of his + catchpolls, and he was a witness of the whole affair. Then again,” and he + waved a hand doorwards, “servants are servants. I make no doubt they are + listening, and your ladyship's voice has scarce been controlled. You can + never say when a servant may cease to be a servant, and become an active + enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the servants!” she swore, dismissing them from consideration. “Who + is this messenger of the secretary's? Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He was named Green. 'Tis all I know.” + </p> + <p> + “And where may he be found?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to Lord Ostermore. “Where is Rotherby?” she inquired. She was a + thought breathless. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” said he, in a voice that signified how little he cared. + </p> + <p> + “He must be found. This fellow's silence must be bought. I'll not have my + son disgraced, and gaoled, perhaps. He must be found.” + </p> + <p> + Her alarm was very real now. She moved towards the door, then paused, and + turned again. “Meantime, let your lordship consider what dispositions you + are to make for this wretched girl who is the cause of all this garboil.” + </p> + <p> + And she swept out, slamming the door violently after her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. FATHER AND SON + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stayed to dine at Stretton House. Although they had journeyed + but from Croydon that morning, he would have preferred to have gone first + to his lodging to have made—fastidious as he was—a suitable + change in his apparel. But the urgency that his task dictated caused him + to waive the point. + </p> + <p> + He had a half-hour or so to himself after the stormy scene with her + ladyship, in which he had played again—though in a lesser degree—the + part of savior to Mistress Winthrop, a matter for which the lady had + rewarded him, ere withdrawing, with a friendly smile, which caused him to + think her disposed to forgive him his yesternight's folly. + </p> + <p> + In that half-hour he gave himself again very seriously to the + contemplation of his position. He had no illusions on the score of Lord + Ostermore, and he rated his father no higher than he deserved. But he was + just and shrewd in his judgment, and he was forced to confess that he had + found this father of his vastly different from the man he had been led to + expect. He had looked to find a debauched old rake, a vile creature + steeped in vice and wickedness. Instead, he found a weak, easy-natured, + commonplace fellow, whose worst sin seemed to be the selfishness that is + usually inseparable from those other characteristics. If Ostermore was not + a man of the type that inspires strong affection, neither was he of the + type that provokes strong dislike. His colorless nature left one + indifferent to him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, somewhat to his dismay, found himself inclined to extend the + man some sympathy; caught himself upon the verge of pitying him for being + burdened with so very unfilial a son and so very cursed a wife. It was one + of his cherished beliefs that the evil that men do has a trick of finding + them out in this life, and here, he believed, as shrew-ridden husband and + despised father, the Earl of Ostermore was being made to expiate that sin + of his early years. + </p> + <p> + Another of Mr. Caryll's philosophies was that, when all is said, man is + little of a free agent. His viciousness or sanctity is temperamental; and + not the man, but his nature—which is not self-imbued—must bear + the responsibility of a man's deeds, be they good or bad. + </p> + <p> + In the abstract such beliefs are well enough; they are excellent standards + by which to judge where other sufferers than ourselves are concerned. But + when we ourselves are touched, they are discounted by the measure in which + a man's deeds or misdeeds may affect us. And although to an extent this + might be the case now with Mr. Caryll, yet, in spite of it, he found + himself excusing his father on the score of the man's weakness and + stupidity, until he caught himself up with the reflection that this was a + disloyalty to Everard, to his training, and to his mother. And yet—he + reverted—in such a man as Ostermore, sheer stupidity, a lack of + imagination, of insight into things as they really are, a lack of feeling + that would disable him from appreciating the extent of any wrong he did, + seemed to Mr. Caryll to be extenuating circumstances. + </p> + <p> + He conceived that he was amazingly dispassionate in his judgment, and he + wondered was he right or wrong so to be. Then the thought of his task + arose in his mind, and it bathed him in a sweat of horror. Over in France + he had allowed himself to be persuaded, and had pledged himself to do this + thing. Everard, the relentless, unforgiving fanatic of vengeance, had—as + we have seen—trained him to believe that the avenging of his + mother's wrongs was the only thing that could justify his own existence. + Besides, it had all seemed remote then, and easy as remote things are apt + to seem. But now—now that he had met in the flesh this man who was + his father—his hesitation was turned to very horror. It was not that + he did not conceive, in spite of his odd ideas upon temperament and its + responsibilities, that his mother's' wrongs cried out for vengeance, and + that the avenging of them would be a righteous, fitting deed; but it was + that he conceived that his own was not the hand to do the work of the + executioner upon one who—after all—was still his own father. + It was hideously unnatural. + </p> + <p> + He sat in the library, awaiting his lordship and the announcement of + dinner. There was a book before him; but his eyes were upon the window, + the smooth lawns beyond, all drenched in summer sunshine, and his thoughts + were introspective. He looked into his shuddering soul, and saw that he + could not—that he would not—do the thing which he was come to + do. He would await the coming of Everard, to tell him so. There would be a + storm to face, he knew. But sooner that than carry this vile thing + through. It was vile—most damnably vile—he now opined. + </p> + <p> + The decision taken, he rose and crossed to the window. His mind had been + in travail; his soul had known the pangs of labor. But now that this + strong resolve had been brought forth, an ease and peace were his that + seemed to prove to him how right he was, how wrong must aught else have + been. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore came in. He announced that they would be dining alone + together. “Her ladyship,” he explained, “has gone forth in person to seek + Lord Rotherby. She believes that she knows where to find him—in some + disreputable haunt, no doubt, whither her ladyship would have been better + advised to have sent a servant. But women are wayward cattle—wayward, + headstrong cattle! Have you not found them so, Mr. Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + “I have found that the opinion is common to most husbands,” said Mr. + Caryll, then added a question touching Mistress Winthrop, and wondered + would she not be joining them at table. + </p> + <p> + “The poor child keeps her chamber,” said the earl. “She is overwrought—overwrought! + I am afraid her ladyship—” He broke off abruptly, and coughed. “She + is overwrought,” he repeated in conclusion. “So that we dine alone.” + </p> + <p> + And alone they dined. Ostermore, despite the havoc suffered by his + fortunes, kept an excellent table and a clever cook, and Mr. Caryll was + glad to discover in his sire this one commendable trait. + </p> + <p> + The conversation was desultory throughout the repast; but when the cloth + was raised and the table cleared of all but the dishes of fruit and the + decanters of Oporto, Canary and Madeira, there came a moment of expansion. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was leaning back in his chair, fingering the stem of his + wine-glass, watching the play of sunlight through the ruddy amber of the + wine, and considering the extraordinarily odd position of a man sitting at + table, by the merest chance, almost, with a father who was not aware that + he had begotten him. A question from his lordship came to stir him + partially from the reverie into which he was beginning to lapse. + </p> + <p> + “Do you look to make a long sojourn in England, Mr. Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + “It will depend,” was the vague and half-unconscious answer, “upon the + success of the matter I am come to transact.” + </p> + <p> + There ensued a brief pause, during which Mr. Caryll fell again into his + abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you dwell when in France, sir?” inquired my lord, as if to make + polite conversation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll lulled by his musings into carelessness, answered truthfully, + “At Maligny, in Normandy.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment there was a tinkle of breaking glass, and Mr. Caryll + realized his indiscretion and turned cold. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore, who had been in the act of raising his glass, fetched it + down again so suddenly that the stem broke in his fingers, and the + mahogany was flooded with the liquor. A servant hastened forward, and set + a fresh glass for his lordship. That done, Ostermore signed to the man to + withdraw. The fellow went, closing the door, and leaving those two alone. + </p> + <p> + The pause had been sufficient to enable Mr. Caryll to recover, and for all + that his pulses throbbed more quickly than their habit, outwardly he + maintained his lazily indifferent pose, as if entirely unconscious that + what he had said had occasioned his father the least disturbance. + </p> + <p> + “You—you dwelt at Maligny?” said his lordship, the usual high color + all vanished from his face. And again: “You dwelt at Maligny, and—and—your + name is Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked up quickly, as if suddenly aware that his lordship was + expressing surprise. “Why, yes,” said he. “What is there odd in that?” + </p> + <p> + “How does it happen that you come to live there? Are you at all connected + with the family of Maligny? On your mother's side, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll took up his wine-glass. “I take it,” said he easily, “that + there was some such family at some time. But it is clear it must have + fallen upon evil days.” He sipped at his wine. “There are none left now,” + he explained, as he set down his glass. “The last of them died, I believe, + in England.” His eyes turned full upon the earl, but their glance seemed + entirely idle. “It was in consequence of that that my father was enabled + to purchase the estate.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll accounted it no lie that he suppressed the fact that the father + to whom he referred was but his father by adoption. + </p> + <p> + Relief spread instantly upon Lord Ostermore's countenance. Clearly, he + saw, here was pure coincidence, and nothing more. Indeed, what else should + there have been? What was it that he had feared? He did not know. Still he + accounted it an odd matter, and said so. + </p> + <p> + “What is odd?” inquired Mr. Caryll. “Does it happen that your lordship was + acquainted at any time with that vanished family?” + </p> + <p> + “I was, sir—slightly acquainted—at one time with one or two of + its members. 'Tis that that is odd. You see, sir, my name, too, happens to + be Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + “True—yet I see nothing so oddly coincident in the matter, + particularly if your acquaintance with these Malignys was but slight.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you are right. You are right. There is no such great coincidence, + when all is said. The name reminded me of a—a folly of my youth. + 'Twas that that made impression.” + </p> + <p> + “A folly?” quoth Mr. Caryll, his eyebrows raised. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, a folly—a folly that went near undoing me, for had it come to + my father's ears, he had broke me without mercy. He was a hard man, my + father; a puritan in his ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “A greater than your lordship?” inquired Mr. Caryll blandly, masking the + rage that seethed in him. + </p> + <p> + His lordship laughed. “Ye're a wag, Mr. Caryll—a damned wag!” Then + reverting to the matter that was uppermost in his mind. “'Tis a fact, + though—'pon honor. My father would ha' broke me. Luckily she died.” + </p> + <p> + “Who died?” asked Mr. Caryll, with a show of interest. + </p> + <p> + “The girl. Did I not tell you there was a girl? 'Twas she was the folly—Antoinette + de Maligny. But she died—most opportunely, egad! 'Twas a very damned + mercy that she did. It—cut the—the—what d'ye call it—knot?” + </p> + <p> + “The Gordian knot?” suggested Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Ay—the Gordian knot. Had she lived and had my father smoked the + affair—Gad! he would ha' broke me; he would so!” he repeated, and + emptied his glass. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, white to the lips, sat very still a moment. Then he did a + curious thing; did it with a curious suddenness. He took a knife from the + table, and hacked off the lowest button from his coat. This he pushed + across the board to his father. + </p> + <p> + “To turn to other matters,” said he; “there is the letter you were + expecting from abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What?” Lord Ostermore took up the button. It was of silk, interwoven + with gold thread. He turned it over in his fingers, looking at it with a + heavy eye, and then at his guest. “Eh? Letter?” he muttered, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “If your lordship will cut that open, you will see what his majesty has to + propose.” He mentioned the king in a voice charged with suggestion, so + that no doubt could linger on the score of the king he meant. + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” cried his lordship. “Gad! 'Twas thus ye bubbled Mr. Green? Shrewd, + on my soul. And you are the messenger, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the messenger,” answered Mr. Caryll coldly. + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not say so before?” + </p> + <p> + For the fraction of a second Mr. Caryll hesitated. Then: “Because I did + not judge that the time was come,” said he. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. TEMPTATION + </h2> + <p> + His lordship ripped away the silk covering of the button with a penknife, + and disembowelled it of a small packet, which consisted of a sheet of fine + and very closely-folded and tightly-compressed paper. This he spread, cast + an eye over, and then looked up at his companion, who was watching him + with simulated indolence. + </p> + <p> + His lordship had paled a little, and there was about the lines of his + mouth a look of preternatural gravity. He looked furtively towards the + door, his heavy eyebrows lowering. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that we shall be more snug in the library. Will you + bear me company, Mr. Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll rose instantly. The earl folded the letter, and turned to go. + His companion paused to pick up the fragments of the button and slip them + into his pocket. He performed the office with a smile on his lips that was + half pity, half contempt. It did not seem to him that there would be the + least need to betray Lord Ostermore once his lordship was wedded to the + Stuart faction. He would not fail to betray himself through some act of + thoughtless stupidity such as this. + </p> + <p> + In the library—the door, and that of the ante-room beyond it, + carefully closed—his lordship unlocked a secretaire of walnut, very + handsomely inlaid, and, drawing up a chair, he sat down to the perusal of + the king's letter. When he had read it through, he remained lost in + thought a while. At length he looked up and across towards Mr. Caryll, who + was standing by one of the windows. + </p> + <p> + “You are no doubt a confidential agent, sir,” said he. “And you will be + fully aware of the contents of this letter that you have brought me.” + </p> + <p> + “Fully, my lord,” answered Mr. Caryll, “and I venture to hope that his + majesty's promises will overcome any hesitation that you may feel.” + </p> + <p> + “His majesty's promises?” said my lord thoughtfully. “His majesty may + never have a chance of fulfilling them.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, sir. But who gambles must set a stake upon the board. Your + lordship has been something of a gamester already, and—or so I + gather—with little profit. Here is a chance to play another game + that may mend the evil fortunes of the last.” + </p> + <p> + The earl scanned him in surprise. “You are excellent well informed,” said + he, between surprise and irony. + </p> + <p> + “My trade demands it. Knowledge is my buckler.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship nodded slowly, and fell very thoughtful, the letter before + him, his eyes wandering ever and anon to con again some portion of it. “It + is a game in which I stake my head,” he muttered presently. + </p> + <p> + “Has your lordship anything else to stake?” inquired Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + The earl looked at him again with a gloomy eye, and sighed, but said + nothing. Mr. Caryll resumed. “It is for your lordship to declare,” he said + quite coolly, “whether his majesty has covered your stake. If you think + not, it is even possible that he may be induced to improve his offer. + Though if you think not, for my own part I consider that you set too high + a value on that same head of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Touched in his vanity, Ostermore looked up at him with a sudden frown. + “You take a bold tone, sir,” said he, “a very bold tone!” + </p> + <p> + “Boldness is the attribute next to knowledge most essential to my + calling,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + </p> + <p> + His lordship's eye fell before the other's cold glance, and again he + lapsed into thoughtfulness, his cheek now upon his hand. Suddenly he + looked up again. “Tell me,” said he. “Who else is in this thing? Men say + that Atterbury is not above suspicion. Is it—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll bent forward to tap the king's letter with a rigid forefinger. + “When your lordship tells me that you are ready to concert upon embarking + your fortunes in this bottom, you shall find me disposed, perhaps, to + answer questions concerning others. Meanwhile, our concern is with + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Dons and the devil!” swore his lordship angrily. “Is this a way to speak + to me?” He scowled at the agent. “Tell me, my fine fellow, what would + happen if I were to lay this letter you have brought me before the nearest + justice?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say for sure,” answered Mr. Caryll quietly, “but it is very + probable it would help your lordship to the gallows. For if you will give + yourself the trouble of reading it again—and more carefully—you + will see that it makes acknowledgment of the offer of services you wrote + his majesty a month or so ago.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship's eyes dropped to the letter again. He caught his breath in + sudden fear. + </p> + <p> + “Were I your lordship, I should leave the nearest justice to enjoy his + dinner in peace,” said Mr. Caryll, smiling. + </p> + <p> + His lordship laughed in a sickly manner. He felt foolish—a rare + condition in him, as in most fools. “Well, well,” said he gruffly. “The + matter needs reflection. It needs reflection.” + </p> + <p> + Behind them the door opened noiselessly, and her ladyship appeared in + cloak and wimple. She paused there, unperceived by either, arrested by the + words she had caught, and waiting in the hope of hearing more. + </p> + <p> + “I must sleep on't, at least,” his lordship was continuing. “'Tis too + grave a matter to be determined thus in haste.” + </p> + <p> + A faint sound caught the keen ears of Mr. Caryll. He turned with a + leisureliness that bore witness to his miraculous self-control. Perceiving + the countess, he bowed, and casually put his lordship on his guard. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he. “Here is her ladyship returned.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore gasped audibly and swung round in an alarm than which + nothing could have betrayed him more effectively. “My—my love!” he + cried, stammering, and by his wild haste to conceal the letter that he + held, drew her attention to it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stepped between them, his back to his lordship, that he might + act as a screen under cover of which to dispose safely of that dangerous + document. But he was too late. Her ladyship's quick eyes had flashed to + it, and if the distance precluded the possibility of her discovering + anything that might be written upon it, she, nevertheless, could see the + curious nature of the paper, which was of the flimsiest tissue of a sort + extremely uncommon. + </p> + <p> + “What is't ye hide?” said she, as she came forward. “Why, we are very + close, surely! What mischief is't ye hatch, my lord?”' + </p> + <p> + “Mis—mischief, my love?” He smiled propitiatingly—hating her + more than ever in that moment. He had stuffed the letter into an inner + pocket of his coat, and but that she had another matter to concern her at + the moment she would not have allowed the question she had asked to be so + put aside. But this other matter upon her mind touched her very closely. + </p> + <p> + “Devil take it, whatever it may be! Rotherby is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Rotherby?” His demeanor changed; from conciliating it was of a sudden + transformed to indignant. “What makes he here?” he demanded. “Did I not + forbid him my house?” + </p> + <p> + “I brought him,” she answered pregnantly. + </p> + <p> + But for once he was not to be put down. “Then you may take him hence + again,” said he. “I'll not have him under my roof—under the same + roof with that poor child he used so infamously. I'll not suffer it!” + </p> + <p> + The Gorgon cannot have looked more coldly wicked than her ladyship just + then. “Have a care, my lord!” she muttered threateningly. “Oh, have a + care, I do beseech you. I am not so to be crossed!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor am I, ma'am,” he rejoined, and then, before more could be said, Mr. + Caryll stepped forward to remind them of his presence—which they + seemed to stand in danger of forgetting. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that I intrude, my lord,” said he, and bowed in leave-taking. “I + shall wait upon your lordship later. Your most devoted. Ma'am, your very + humble servant.” And he bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + In the ante-room he came upon Lord Rotherby, striding to and fro, his brow + all furrowed with care. At sight of Mr. Caryll, the viscount's scowl grew + blacker. “Oons and the devil!” he cried. “What make you here?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Mr. Caryll pleasantly, “is the very question your father is + asking her ladyship concerning yourself. Your servant, sir.” And airy, + graceful, smiling that damnable close smile of his, he was gone, leaving + Rotherby very hot and angry. + </p> + <p> + Outside Mr. Caryll hailed a chair, and had himself carried to his lodging + in Old Palace Yard, where Leduc awaited him. As his bearers swung briskly + along, Mr. Caryll sat back and gave himself up to thought. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore interested him vastly. For a moment that day the earl had + aroused his anger, as you may have judged from the sudden resolve upon + which he had acted when he delivered him that letter, thus embarking at + the eleventh hour upon a task which he had already determined to abandon. + He knew not now whether to rejoice or deplore that he had acted upon that + angry impulse. He knew not, indeed, whether to pity or despise this man + who was swayed by no such high motives as must have affected most of those + who were faithful to the exiled James. Those motives—motives of + chivalry and romanticism in most cases—Lord Ostermore would have + despised if he could have understood them; for he was a man of the type + that despises all things that are not essentially practical, whose results + are not immediately obvious. Being all but ruined by his association with + the South Sea Company, he was willing for the sake of profit to turn + traitor to the king de facto, even as thirty years ago, actuated by + similar motives, he had turned traitor to the king de jure. + </p> + <p> + What was one to make of such a man, wondered Mr. Caryll. If he were + equipped with wit enough to apprehend the baseness of his conduct, he + would be easily understood and it would be easy to despise him. But Mr. + Caryll perceived that he was dealing with one who never probed into the + deeps of anything—himself and his own conduct least of all—and + that a deplorable lack of perception, of understanding almost, deprived + his lordship of the power to feel as most men feel, to judge as most men + judge. And hence was it that Mr. Caryll thought him a subject for pity + rather than contempt. Even in that other thirty-year-old matter that so + closely touched Mr. Caryll, the latter was sure that the same pitiful + shortcomings might be urged in the man's excuse. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, behind him at Stretton House, Mr. Caryll had left a scene of + strife between Lady Ostermore and her son on one side and Lord Ostermore + on the other. Weak and vacillating as he was in most things, it seemed + that the earl could be strong in his dislike of his son, and firm in his + determination not to condone the infamy of his behavior toward Hortensia + Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “The fault is yours,” Rotherby sought to excuse himself again—employing + the old argument, and in an angry, contemptuous tone that was entirely + unfilial. “I'd ha' married the girl in earnest, but for your threats to + disinherit me.” + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” his father stormed at him, “did you suppose that if I should + disinherit you for marrying her, I should be likely to do less for your + luring her into a mock marriage? I've done with you! Go your ways for a + damned profligate—a scandal to the very name of gentleman. I've done + with you!” + </p> + <p> + And to that the earl adhered in spite of all that Rotherby and his mother + could urge. He stamped out of the library with a final command to his son + to quit his house and never disgrace it again by his presence. Rotherby + looked ruefully at his mother. + </p> + <p> + “He means it,”' said he. “He never loved me. He was never a father to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever greatly a son to him?” asked her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “As much as he would ha' me be,” he answered, his black face very sullen. + “Oh, 'sdeath! I am damnably used by him.” He paced the chamber, storming. + “All this garboil about nothing!”, he complained. “Was he never young + himself? And when all is said, there's no harm done. The girl's been + fetched home again.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! Ye're a fool, Rotherby—a fool, and there's an end on't,” + said his mother. “I sometimes wonder which is the greater fool—you + or your father. And yet he can marvel that you are his son. What do ye + think would have happened if you had had your way with that + bread-and-butter miss? It had been matter enough to hang you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said the viscount, dropping into a chair and staring sullenly at + the carpet. Then sullenly he added: “His lordship would have been glad + on't—so some one would have been pleased. As it is—” + </p> + <p> + “As it is, ye'd better find the man Green who was at Maidstone, and stop + his mouth with guineas. He is aware of what passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! Green was there on other business.” And he told her of the + suspicions the messenger entertained against Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + It set her ladyship thinking. “Why,” she said presently, “'twill be that!” + </p> + <p> + “'Twill be what, ma'am?” asked Rotherby, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this fellow Caryll must ha' bubbled the messenger in spite of the + search he may have made. I found the popinjay here with your father, the + pair as thick as thieves—and your father with a paper in his hand as + fine as a cobweb. 'Sdeath! I'll be sworn he's a damned Jacobite.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby was on his feet in an instant. He remembered suddenly all that he + had overheard at Maidstone. “Oho!” he crowed. “What cause have ye to think + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Cause? Why, what I have seen. Besides, I feel it in my bones. My every + instinct tells me 'tis so.” + </p> + <p> + “If you should prove right! Oh, if you should prove right! Death! I'd find + a way to settle the score of that pert fellow from France, and to dictate + terms to his lordship at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship stared at him. “Ye're an unnatural hound, Rotherby. Would ye + betray your own father?” + </p> + <p> + “Betray him? No! But I'll set a term to his plotting. Egad! Has he not + lost enough in the South Sea Bubble, without sinking the little that is + left in some wild-goose Jacobite plot?” + </p> + <p> + “How shall it matter to you, since he's sworn to disinherit you?” + </p> + <p> + “How, madam?” Rotherby laughed cunningly. “I'll prevent the one and the + other—and pay off Mr. Caryll at the same time. Three birds with one + stone, let me perish!” He reached for his hat. “I must find this fellow + Green.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do?” she asked, a slight anxiety trembling in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Stir up his suspicions of Caryll. He'll be ready enough to act after his + discomfiture at Maidstone. I'll warrant he's smarting under it. If once we + can find cause to lay Caryll by the heels, the fear of the consequences + should bring his lordship to his senses. 'Twill be my turn then.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll do nothing that—that will hurt your father?” she + enjoined him, her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Trust me,” he laughed, and added cynically: “It would hardly sort with my + interests to involve him. It will serve me best to frighten him into + reason and a sense of his paternal duty.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE CHAMPION + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was well and handsomely housed, as became the man of fashion, + in the lodging he had taken in Old Palace Yard. Knowing him from abroad, + it was not impossible that the government—fearful of sedition since + the disturbance caused by the South Sea distress, and aware of an + undercurrent of Jacobitism—might for a time, at least, keep an eye + upon him. It behooved him, therefore, to appear neither more nor less than + a lounger, a gentleman of pleasure who had come to London in quest of + diversion. To support this appearance, Mr. Caryll had sought out some + friends of his in town. There were Stapleton and Collis, who had been at + Oxford with him, and with whom he had ever since maintained a + correspondence and a friendship. He sought them out on the very evening of + his arrival—after his interview with Lord Ostermore. He had the + satisfaction of being handsomely welcomed by them, and was plunged under + their guidance into the gaieties that the town afforded liberally for + people of quality. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was—as I hope you have gathered—an agreeable + fellow, very free, moreover, with the contents of his well-equipped purse; + and so you may conceive that the town showed him a very friendly, cordial + countenance. He fell into the habits of the men whose company he + frequented; his days were as idle as theirs, and spent at the parade, the + Ring, the play, the coffeehouse and the ordinary. + </p> + <p> + But under the gay exterior he affected he carried a spirit of most vile + unrest. The anger which had prompted his impulse to execute, after all, + the business on which he was come, and to deliver his father the letter + that was to work his ruin, was all spent. He had cooled, and cool it was + idle for him to tell himself that Lord Ostermore, by his heartless + allusion to the crime of his early years, had proved himself worthy of + nothing but the pit Mr. Caryll had been sent to dig for him. There were + moments when he sought to compel himself so to think, to steel himself + against all other considerations. But it was idle. The reflection that the + task before him was unnatural came ever to revolt him. To gain ease, the + most that he could do—and he had the faculty of it developed in a + preternatural degree—was to put the business from him for the time, + endeavor to forget it. And he had another matter to consider and to plague + him—the matter of Hortensia Winthrop. He thought of her a great deal + more than was good for his peace of mind, for all that he pretended to a + gladness that things were as they were. Each morning that he lounged at + the parade in St. James's Park, each evening that he visited the Ring, it + was in the hope of catching some glimpse of her among the fashionable + women that went abroad to see and to be seen. And on the third morning + after his arrival the thing he hoped for came to pass. + </p> + <p> + It had happened that my lady had ordered her carriage that morning, + dressed herself with the habitual splendor, which but set off the + shortcomings of her lean and angular person, egregiously coiffed, + pulvilled and topknotted, and she had sent a message amounting to a + command to Mistress Winthrop that she should drive in the park with her. + </p> + <p> + Poor Hortensia, whose one desire was to hide her face from the town's + uncharitable sight just then, fearing, indeed, that Rumor's unscrupulous + tongue would be as busy about her reputation as her ladyship had + represented, attempted to assert herself by refusing to obey the command. + It was in vain. Her ladyship dispensed with ambassadors, and went in + person to convey her orders to her husband's ward, and to enforce them. + </p> + <p> + “What's this I am told?” quoth she, as she sailed into Hortensia's room. + “Do my wishes count for nothing, that you send me pert answers by my + woman?” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia rose. She had been sitting by the window, a book in her lap. + “Not so, indeed, madam. Not pert, I trust. I am none so well, and I fear + the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis little wonder,” laughed her ladyship; “and I'm glad on't, for it + shows ye have a conscience somewhere. But 'tis no matter for that. I am + tender for your reputation, mistress, and I'll not have you shunning + daylight like the guilty thing ye know yourself to be.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis false, madam,” said Hortensia, with indignation. “Your ladyship + knows it to be false.” + </p> + <p> + “Harkee, ninny, if you'd have the town believe it false, you'll show + yourself—show that ye have no cause for shame, no cause to hide you + from the eyes of honest folk. Come, girl; bid your woman get your hood and + tippet. The carriage stays for us.” + </p> + <p> + To Hortensia her ladyship's seemed, after all, a good argument. Did she + hide, what must the town think but that it confirmed the talk that she + made no doubt was going round already. Better to go forth and brave it, + and surely it should disarm the backbiters if she showed herself in the + park with Lord Rotherby's own mother. + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to her that this seeming tenderness for her reputation + might be but wanton cruelty on her ladyship's part; a gratifying of her + spleen against the girl by setting her in the pillory of public sight to + the end that she should experience the insult of supercilious glances and + lips that smile with an ostentation of furtiveness; a desire to put down + her pride and break the spirit which my lady accounted insolent and + stubborn. + </p> + <p> + Suspecting naught of this, she consented, and drove out with her ladyship + as she was desired to do. But understanding of her ladyship's cruel + motives, and repentance of her own acquiescence, were not long in + following. Soon—very soon—she realized that anything would + have been better than the ordeal she was forced to undergo. + </p> + <p> + It was a warm, sunny morning, and the park was crowded with fashionable + loungers. Lady Ostermore left her carriage at the gates, and entered the + enclosure on foot, accompanied by Hortensia and followed at a respectful + distance by a footman. Her arrival proved something of a sensation. Hats + were swept off to her ladyship, sly glances flashed at her companion, who + went pale, but apparently serene, eyes looking straight before her; and + there was an obvious concealing of smiles at first, which later grew to be + all unconcealed, and, later still, became supplemented by remarks that all + might hear, remarks which did not escape—as they were meant not to + escape—her ladyship and Mistress Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” murmured the girl, in her agony of shame, “we were not + well-advised to come. Will not your ladyship turn back?” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship displayed a vinegary smile, and looked at her companion over + the top of her slowly moving fan. “Why? Is't not pleasant here?” quoth + she. “'Twill be more agreeable under the trees yonder. The sun will not + reach you there, child.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis not the sun I mind, madam,” said Hortensia, but received no answer. + Perforce she must pace on beside her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby came by, arm in arm with his friend, the Duke of Wharton. It + was a one-sided friendship. Lord Rotherby was but one of the many of his + type who furnished a court, a valetaille, to the gay, dissolute, handsome, + witty duke, who might have been great had he not preferred his vices to + his worthier parts. + </p> + <p> + As they went by, Lord Rotherby bared his head and bowed, as did his + companion. Her ladyship smiled upon him, but Hortensia's eyes looked + rigidly ahead, her face a stone. She heard his grace's insolent laugh as + they passed on; she heard his voice—nowise subdued, for he was a man + who loved to let the world hear what he might have to say. + </p> + <p> + “Gad! Rotherby, the wind has changed! Your Dulcinea flies with you o' + Wednesday, and has ne'er a glance for you o' Saturday! I' faith! ye + deserve no better. Art a clumsy gallant to have been overtaken, and the + maid's in the right on't to resent your clumsiness.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby's reply was lost in a splutter of laughter from a group of + sycophants who had overheard his grace's criticism and were but too ready + to laugh at aught his grace might deign to utter. Her cheeks burned; it + was by an effort that she suppressed the tears that anger was forcing to + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The duke, 'twas plain, had set the fashion. Emulators were not wanting. + Stray words she caught; by instinct was she conscious of the oglings, the + fluttering of fans from the women, the flashing of quizzing-glasses from + the men. And everywhere was there a suppressed laugh, a stifled + exclamation of surprise at her appearance in public—yet not so + stifled but that it reached her, as it was intended that it should. + </p> + <p> + In the shadow of a great elm, around which there was a seat, a little + group had gathered, of which the centre was the sometime toast of the town + and queen of many Wells, the Lady Mary Deller, still beautiful and still + unwed—as is so often the way of reigning toasts—but already + past her pristine freshness, already leaning upon the support of art to + maintain the endowments she had had from nature. She was accounted witty + by the witless, and by some others. + </p> + <p> + Of the group that paid its court to her and her companions—two + giggling cousins in their first season were Mr. Caryll and his friends, + Sir Harry Collis and Mr. Edward Stapleton, the former of whom—he was + the lady's brother-in-law—had just presented him. Mr. Caryll was + dressed with even more than his ordinary magnificence. He was in + dove-colored cloth, his coat very richly laced with gold, his waistcoat—of + white brocade with jeweled buttons, the flower-pattern outlined in finest + gold thread—descended midway to his knees, whilst the ruffles at his + wrists and the Steinkirk at his throat were of the finest point. He cut a + figure of supremest elegance, as he stood there, his chestnut head + slightly bowed in deference as my Lady Mary spoke, his hat tucked under + his arm, his right hand outstretched beside him to rest upon the gold head + of his clouded-amber cane. + </p> + <p> + To the general he was a stranger still in town, and of the sort that draws + the eye and provokes inquiry. Lady Mary, the only goal of whose shallow + existence was the attention of the sterner sex, who loved to break hearts + as a child breaks toys, for the fun of seeing how they look when broken—and + who, because of that, had succeeded in breaking far fewer than she fondly + imagined—looked up into his face with the “most perditiously + alluring” eyes in England—so Mr. Craske, the poet, who stood at her + elbow now, had described them in the dedicatory sonnet of his last book of + poems. (Wherefore, in parenthesis be it observed, she had rewarded him + with twenty guineas, as he had calculated that she would.) + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden stir in the group. Mr. Craske had caught sight of Lady + Ostermore and Mistress Winthrop, and he fell to giggling, a flimsy + handkerchief to his painted lips. “Oh, 'Sbud!” he bleated. “Let me die! + The audaciousness of the creature! And behold me the port and glance of + her! Cold as a vestal, let me perish!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary turned with the others to look in the direction he was pointing—pointing + openly, with no thought of dissembling. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll's eyes fell upon Mistress Winthrop, and his glance was oddly + perceptive. He observed those matters of which Mr. Craske had seemed to + make sardonic comment: the erect stiffness of her carriage, the eyes that + looked neither to right nor left, and the pallor of her face. He observed, + too, the complacent air with which her ladyship advanced beside her + husband's ward, her fan moving languidly, her head nodding to her + acquaintance, as in supreme unconcern of the stir her coming had effected. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll had been dull indeed, knowing what he knew, had he not + understood to the full the humiliation to which Mistress Hortensia was + being of purpose set submitted. + </p> + <p> + And just then Rotherby, who had turned, with Wharton and another now, came + by them again. This time he halted, and his companions with him, for just + a moment, to address his mother. She turned; there was an exchange of + greetings, in which Mistress Hortensia standing rigid as stone—took + no part. A silence fell about; quizzing-glasses went up; all eyes were + focussed upon the group. Then Rotherby and his friends resumed their way. + </p> + <p> + “The dog!” said Mr. Caryll, between his teeth, but went unheard by any, + for in that moment Dorothy Deller—the younger of the Lady Mary's + cousins—gave expression to the generous and as yet unsullied little + heart that was her own. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'tis shameful!” she cried. “Will you not go speak with her, Molly?” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Mary stiffened. She looked at the company about her with an + apologetic smile. “I beg that ye'll not heed the child,” said she. “'Tis + not that she is without morals—but without knowledge. An innocent + little fool; no worse.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis bad enough, I vow,” laughed an old beau, who sought fame as a man of + a cynical turn of humor. + </p> + <p> + “But fortunately rare,” said Mr. Caryll dryly. “Like charity, almost + unknown in this Babylon.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was not quite nice, although perhaps the Lady Mary was the only + one to perceive the note of challenge in it. But Mr. Craske, the poet, + diverted attention to himself by a prolonged, malicious chuckle. Rotherby + was just moving away from his mother at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “They've never a word for each other to-day!” he cried. “Oh, 'Sbud! not so + much as the mercy of a glance will the lady afford him.” And he burst into + the ballad of King Francis: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Souvent femme varie, + Bien, fol est qui s'y fie!” + </pre> + <p> + and laughed his prodigious delight at the aptness of his quotation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll put up his gold-rimmed quizzing-glass, and directed through + that powerful weapon of offence an eye of supreme displeasure upon the + singer. He could not contain his rage, yet from his languid tone none + would have suspected it. “Sir,” said he, “ye've a singular unpleasant + voice.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Craske, thrown out of countenance by so much directness, could only + stare; the same did the others, though some few tittered, for Mr. Craske, + when all was said, was held in no great esteem by the discriminant. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll lowered his glass. “I've heard it said by the uncharitable that + ye were a lackey before ye became a plagiarist. 'Tis a rumor I shall + contradict in future; 'tis plainly a lie, for your voice betrays you to + have been a chairman.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—sir—” spluttered the poetaster, crimson with anger and + mortification. “Is this—is this—seemly—between + gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Between gentlemen it would not be seemly,” Mr. Caryll agreed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Craske, quivering, yet controlling himself, bowed stiffly. “I have too + much respect for myself—” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll be singular in that, no doubt,” said Mr. Caryll, and turned his + shoulder upon him. + </p> + <p> + Again Mr. Craske appeared to make an effort at self-control; again he + bowed. “I know—I hope—what is due to the Lady Mary Deller, to—to + answer you as—as befits. But you shall hear from me, sir. You shall + hear from me.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed a third time—a bow that took in the entire company—and + withdrew in high dudgeon and with a great show of dignity. A pause ensued, + and then the Lady Mary reproved Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'twas cruel in you, sir,” she cried. “Poor Mr. Craske! And to dub him + plagiarist! 'Twas the unkindest cut of all!” + </p> + <p> + “Truth, madam, is never kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie! You make bad worse!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “He'll put you in the pillory of his verse for this,” laughed Collis. + “Ye'll be most scurvily lampooned for't.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. Craske!” sighed the Lady Mary again. + </p> + <p> + “Poor, indeed; but not in the sense to deserve pity. An upstart impostor + such as that to soil a lady with his criticism!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary's brows went up. “You use a singular severity, sir,” she opined, + “and I think it unwise in you to grow so hot in the defence of a + reputation whose owner has so little care for it herself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at her out of his level gray-green eyes; a hot answer + quivered on his tongue, an answer that had crushed her venom for some time + and had probably left him with a quarrel on his hands. Yet his smile, as + he considered her, was very sweet, so sweet that her ladyship, guessing + nothing of the bitterness it was used to cover, went as near a smirk as it + was possible for one so elegant. He was, she judged, another victim ripe + for immolation on the altar of her goddessship. And Mr. Caryll, who had + taken her measure very thoroughly, seeing something of how her thoughts + were running, bethought him of a sweeter vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary,” he cried, a soft reproach in his voice, “I have been sore + mistook in you if you are one to be guided by the rabble.” And he waved a + hand toward the modish throng. + </p> + <p> + She knit her fine brows, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he cried, interpreting her glance to suit his ends, “perish the + thought, indeed! I knew that I could not be wrong. I knew that one so + peerless in all else must be peerless, too, in her opinions; judging for + herself, and standing firm upon her judgment in disdain of meaner souls—mere + sheep to follow their bell-wether.” + </p> + <p> + She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing, being too intrigued by + this sudden and most sweet flattery. Her mere beauty had oft been praised, + and in terms that glowed like fire. But what was that compared with this + fine appreciation of her less obvious mental parts—and that from one + who had seen the world? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was bending over her. “What a chance is here,” he was + murmuring, “to mark your lofty detachment—to show how utter is your + indifference to what the common herd may think.” + </p> + <p> + “As—as how?” she asked, blinking up at him. + </p> + <p> + The others stood at gaze, scarce yet suspecting the drift of so much talk. + </p> + <p> + “There is a poor lady yonder, of whose fair name a bubble is being blown + and pricked. I dare swear there's not a woman here durst speak to her. Yet + what a chance for one that dared! How fine a triumph would be hers!” He + sighed. “Heigho! I almost wish I were a woman, that I might make that + triumph mine and mark my superiority to these painted dolls that have + neither wit nor courage.” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Mary rose, a faint color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her fine + eyes. A great joy flashed into Mr. Caryll's in quick response; a joy in + her—she thought with ready vanity—and a heightening + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Will you make it yours, as it should be—as it must ever be—to + lead and not to follow?” he cried, flattering incredibility trembling in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “And why not, sir?” she demanded, now thoroughly aroused. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed—since you are you?” quoth he. “It is what I had + hoped in you, and yet—and yet what I had almost feared to hope.” + </p> + <p> + She frowned upon him now, so excellently had he done his work. “Why should + you have feared that?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I am a man of little faith—unworthy, indeed, your good + opinion since I entertained a doubt. It was a blasphemy.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled again. “You acknowledge your faults with such a grace,” said + she, “that we must needs forgive them. And now to show you how much you + need forgiveness. Come, children,” she bade her cousins—for whose + innocence she had made apology but a moment back. “Your arm, Harry,” she + begged her brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry obeyed her readily, but without eagerness. In his heart he + cursed his friend Caryll for having set her on to this. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll himself hung upon her other side, his eyes toward Lady + Ostermore and Hortensia, who, whilst being observed by all, were being + approached by few; and these few confined themselves to an exchange of + greetings with her ladyship, which constituted a worse offence to Mistress + Winthrop than had they stayed away. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as if drawn by his ardent gaze, Hortensia's eyes moved at last + from their forward fixity. Her glance met Mr. Caryll's across the + intervening space. Instantly he swept off his hat, and bowed profoundly. + The action drew attention to himself. All eyes were focussed upon him, and + between many a pair there was a frown for one who should dare thus to run + counter to the general attitude. + </p> + <p> + But there was more to follow. The Lady Mary accepted Mr. Caryll's + salutation of Hortensia as a signal. She led the way promptly, and the + little band swept forward, straight for its goal, raked by the volleys + from a thousand eyes, under which the Lady Mary already began to giggle + excitedly. + </p> + <p> + Thus they reached the countess, the countess standing very rigid in her + amazement, to receive them. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I see your ladyship well,” said Lady Mary. + </p> + <p> + “I hope your ladyship does,” answered the countess tartly. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Winthrop's eyes were lowered; her cheeks were scarlet. Her + distress was plain, born of her doubt of the Lady Mary's purpose, and + suspense as to what might follow. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the honor of your ward's acquaintance, Lady Ostermore,” said + Lady Mary, whilst the men were bowing, and her cousins curtseying to the + countess and her companion collectively. + </p> + <p> + The countess gasped, recovered, and eyed the speaker without any sign of + affection. “My husband's ward, ma'am,” she corrected, in a voice that + seemed to discourage further mention of Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis but a distinction,” put in Mr. Caryll suggestively. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes. Will not your ladyship present me?” The countess' malevolent + eyes turned a moment upon Mr. Caryll, smiling demurely at Lady Mary's + elbow. In his face—as well as in the four words he had uttered—she + saw that here was work of his, and he gained nothing in her favor by it. + Meanwhile there were no grounds—other than such as must have been + wantonly offensive to the Lady Mary, and so not to be dreamed of—upon + which to refuse her request. The countess braced herself, and with an ill + grace performed the brief ceremony of presentation. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Winthrop looked up an instant, then down again; it was a piteous, + almost a pleading glance. + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary, leaving the countess to Sir Harry Stapleton, Caryll and the + others, moved to Hortensia's side for a moment she was at loss what to + say, and took refuge in a commonplace. + </p> + <p> + “I have long desired the pleasure of your acquaintance,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I am honored, madam,” replied Hortensia, with downcast eyes. Then lifting + them with almost disconcerting suddenness. “Your ladyship has chosen an + odd season in which to gratify this desire with which you honor me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary laughed, as much at the remark as for the benefit of those whose + eyes were upon her. She knew there would not be wanting many who would + condemn her; but these should be far outnumbered by those who would be + lost in admiration of her daring, that she could so fly in the face of + public opinion; and she was grateful to Mr. Caryll for having suggested to + her a course of such distinction. + </p> + <p> + “I could have chosen no better season,” she replied, “to mark my scorn of + evil tongues and backbiters.” + </p> + <p> + Color stained Hortensia's cheek again; gratitude glowed in her eyes. “You + are very noble, madam,” she answered with flattering earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “La!” said the Lady Mary. “Is nobility, then, so easily achieved?” And + thereafter they talked of inconsequent trifles, until Mr. Caryll moved + towards them, and Lady Mary turned aside to speak to the countess. + </p> + <p> + At Mr. Caryll's approach Hortensia's eyes had been lowered again, and she + made no offer to address him as he stood before her now, hat under arm, + leaning easily upon his amber cane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heart of stone!” said he at last. “Am I not yet forgiven?” + </p> + <p> + She misread his meaning—perhaps already the suspicion she now voiced + had been in her mind. She looked up at him sharply. “Was it—was it + you who fetched the Lady Mary to me?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Lo!” said he. “You have a voice! Now Heaven be praised! I was fearing it + was lost for me—that you had made some awful vow never again to + rejoice my ears with the music of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not answered my question,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “Nor you mine,” said he. “I asked you am I not yet forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgiven what?” + </p> + <p> + “For being born an impudent, fleering coxcomb—twas that you called + me, I think.” + </p> + <p> + She flushed deeply. “If you would win forgiveness, you should not remind + me of the offence,” she answered low. + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he rejoined, “that is to confound forgiveness with forgetfulness. I + want you to forgive and yet to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “That were to condone.” + </p> + <p> + “What else? 'Tis nothing less will satisfy me.” + </p> + <p> + “You expect too much,” she answered, with a touch that was almost of + sternness. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged and smiled whimsically. “It is my way,” he said + apologetically. “Nature has made me expectant, and life, whilst showing me + the folly of it, has not yet cured me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and repeated her earlier question. “Was it at your + bidding that Lady Mary came to speak with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Fie!” he cried. “What insinuations do you make against her?” + </p> + <p> + “Insinuations?” + </p> + <p> + “What else? That she should do things at my bidding!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled understanding. “You have a talent, sir, for crooked answers.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis to conceal the rectitude of my behavior.” + </p> + <p> + “It fails of its object, then,” said she, “for it deludes no one.” She + paused and laughed at his look of assumed blankness. “I am deeply beholden + to you,” she whispered quickly, breathing at once gratitude and confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Though I don't descry the cause,” said he, “'twill be something to + comfort me.” + </p> + <p> + More he might have added then, for the mad mood was upon him, awakened by + those soft brown eyes of hers. But in that moment the others of that + little party crowded upon them to take their leave of Mistress Winthrop. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll felt satisfied that enough had been done to curb the slander + concerning Hortensia. But he was not long in learning how profound was his + mistake. On every side he continued to hear her discussed, and in such + terms as made his ears tingle and his hands itch to be at work in her + defence; for, with smirks and sneers and innuendoes, her escapade with + Lord Rotherby continued to furnish a topic for the town as her ladyship + had sworn it would. Yet by what right could he espouse her cause with any + one of her defamers without bringing her fair name into still more odious + notoriety? + </p> + <p> + And meanwhile he knew that he was under strict surveillance from Mr. + Green; knew that he was watched wherever he went; and nothing but his + confidence that no evidence could be produced against him allowed him to + remain, as he did, all unconcerned of this. + </p> + <p> + Leduc had more than once seen Mr. Green about Old Palace Yard, besides a + couple of his underlings, one or the other of whom was never absent from + the place, no doubt with intent to observe who came and went at Mr. + Caryll's. Once, indeed, during the absence of master and servant, Mr. + Caryll's lodging was broken into, and on Leduc's return he found a + confusion which told him how thoroughly the place had been ransacked. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Caryll had had anything to hide, this would have given him the hint + to take his precautions; but as he had nothing that was in the least + degree in incriminating, he went his ways in supremest unconcern of the + vigilance exerted over him. He used, however, a greater discretion in the + resorts he frequented. And if upon occasion he visited such Tory + meeting-places as the Bell Tavern in King Street or the Cocoa-Tree in Pall + Mall, he was still more often to be found at White's, that ultra-Whig + resort. + </p> + <p> + It was at this latter house, one evening three or four days after his + meeting with Hortensia in the park, that the chance was afforded him at + last of vindicating her honor in a manner that need not add to the scandal + that was already abroad, nor serve to couple his name with hers unduly. + And it was Lord Rotherby himself who afforded him the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + The thing fell out in this wise: Mr. Caryll was at cards with Harry Collis + and Stapleton and Major Gascoigne, in a room above-stairs. There were at + least a dozen others present, some also at play, others merely lounging. + Of the latter was his Grace of Wharton. He was a slender, graceful + gentleman, whose face, if slightly effeminate and markedly dissipated, was + nevertheless of considerable beauty. He was very splendid in a suit of + green camlett and silver lace, and he wore a flaxen periwig without + powder. + </p> + <p> + He was awaiting Rotherby, with whom—as he told the company—he + was for a frolic at Drury Lane, where a ridotto was following the play. He + spoke, as usual, in a loud voice that all might hear, and his talk was + loose and heavily salted as became the talk of a rake of his exalted rank. + It was chiefly concerned with airing his bitter grievance against Mrs. + Girdlebank, of the Theatre Royal, of whom he announced himself “devilishly + enamoured.” + </p> + <p> + He inveighed against her that she should have the gross vulgarity to love + her husband, and against her husband that he should have the audacity to + play the watchdog over her, and bark and growl at the duke's approach. + </p> + <p> + “A plague on all husbands, say I,” ended the worthy president of the Bold + Bucks. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, now, but I'm a husband myself, gad!” protested Mr. Sidney, who was + quite the most delicate, mincing man of fashion about town, and one of + that valetaille that hovered about his Grace of Wharton's heels. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis no matter in your case,” said the duke, with that contempt he used + towards his followers. “Your wife's too ugly to be looked at.” And Mr. + Sidney's fresh protest was drowned in the roar of laughter that went up to + applaud that brutal frankness. Mr. Caryll turned to the fop, who happened + to be standing at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Never repine, man,” said he. “In the company you keep, such a wife makes + for peace of mind. To have that is to have much.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton resumed his railings at the Girdlebanks, and was still at them + when Rotherby came in. + </p> + <p> + “At last, Charles!” the duke hailed him, rising. “Another minute, and I + had gone without you.” + </p> + <p> + But Rotherby scarce looked at him, and answered with unwonted shortness. + His eyes had discovered Mr. Caryll. It was the first time he had run + against him since that day, over a week ago, at Stretton House, and at + sight of him now all Rotherby's spleen was moved. He stood and stared, his + dark eyes narrowing, his cheeks flushing slightly under their tan. + Wharton, who had approached him, observing his sudden halt, his sudden + look of concentration, asked him shortly what might ail him. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen someone I did not expect to find in a resort of gentlemen,” + said Rotherby, his eyes ever on Mr. Caryll, who—engrossed in his + game—was all unconscious of his lordship's advent. + </p> + <p> + Wharton followed the direction of his companion's gaze, and giving now + attention himself to Mr. Caryll, he fell to appraising his genteel + appearance, negligent of the insinuation in what Rotherby had said. + </p> + <p> + “'Sdeath!” swore the duke. “'Tis a man of taste—a travelled + gentleman by his air. Behold me the grace of that shoulder-knot, Charles, + and the set of that most admirable coat. Fifty guineas wouldn't buy his + Steinkirk. Who is this beau?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll present him to your grace,” said Rotherby shortly. He had + pretentions at being a beau himself; but his grace—supreme arbiter + in such matters—had never yet remarked it. + </p> + <p> + They moved across the room, greetings passing as they went. At their + approach, Mr. Caryll looked up. Rotherby made him a leg with an excessive + show of deference, arguing irony. “'Tis an unlooked-for pleasure to meet + you here, sir,” said he in a tone that drew the attention of all present. + </p> + <p> + “No pleasures are so sweet as the unexpected,” answered Mr. Caryll, with + casual amiability, and since he perceived at once the errand upon which + Lord Rotherby was come to him, he went half-way to meet him. “Has your + lordship been contracting any marriages of late?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The viscount smiled icily. “You have quick wits, sir,” said he, “which is + as it should be in one who lives by them.” + </p> + <p> + “Let your lordship be thankful that such is not your own case,” returned + Mr. Caryll, with imperturbable good humor, and sent a titter round the + room. + </p> + <p> + “A hit! A shrewd hit, 'pon honor!” cried Wharton, tapping his snuff-box. + “I vow to Gad, Ye're undone, Charles. Ye'd better play at repartee with + Gascoigne, there. Ye're more of a weight.” + </p> + <p> + “Your grace,” cried Rotherby, suppressing at great cost his passion, “'tis + not to be borne that a fellow of this condition should sit among men of + quality.” And with that he swung round and addressed the company in + general. “Gentlemen, do you know who this fellow is? He has the effrontery + to take my name, and call himself Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked a moment at his brother in the silence that followed. + Then, as in a flash, he saw his chance of vindicating Mistress Winthrop, + and he seized it. + </p> + <p> + “And do you know, gentlemen, who this fellow is?” he inquired, with an air + of sly amusement. “He is—Nay, you shall judge for yourselves. You + shall hear the story of how we met; it is the story of his abduction of a + lady whose name need not be mentioned; the story of his dastardly attempt + to cozen her into a mock-marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Mock—mock-marriage?” cried the duke and a dozen others with him, + some in surprise, but most in an unbelief that was already faintly tinged + with horror—which argued ill for my Lord Rotherby when the story + should be told. + </p> + <p> + “You damned rogue—” began his lordship, and would have flung himself + upon Caryll, but that Collis and Stapleton, and Wharton himself, put forth + hands to stay him by main force. + </p> + <p> + Others, too, had risen. But Mr. Caryll sat quietly in his chair, idly + fingering the cards before him, and smiling gently, between amusement and + irony. He was much mistaken if he did not make Lord Rotherby bitterly + regret the initiative he had taken in their quarrel. + </p> + <p> + “Gently, my lord,” the duke admonished the viscount. “This—this + gentleman has said that which touches your honor. He shall say more. He + shall make good his words, or eat them. But the matter cannot rest thus.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall not, by God!” swore Rotherby, purple now. “It shall not. I'll + kill him like a dog for what he has said.” + </p> + <p> + “But before I die, gentlemen,” said Mr. Caryll, “it were well that you + should have the full story of that sorry adventure from an eye-witness.” + </p> + <p> + “An eye-witness? Were ye present?” cried two or three in a breath. + </p> + <p> + “I desire to lay before you all the story of how we met my lord there and + I. It is so closely enmeshed with the story of that abduction and + mock-marriage that the one is scarce to be distinguished from the other.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby writhed to shake off those who held him. + </p> + <p> + “Will ye listen to this fellow?” he roared. “He's a spy, I tell you—a + Jacobite spy!” He was beside himself with anger and apprehension, and he + never paused to weigh the words he uttered. It was with him a question of + stopping his accuser's mouth with whatever mud came under his hands. “He + has no right here. It is not to be borne. I know not by what means he has + thrust himself among you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “That is a knowledge I can afford your lordship,” came Stapleton's steady + voice to interrupt the speaker. “Mr. Caryll is here by my invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “And by mine and Gascoigne's here,” added Sir Harry Collis, “and I will + answer for his quality to any man who doubts it.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby glared at Mr. Caryll's sponsors, struck dumb by this sudden and + unexpected refutation of the charge he had leveled. + </p> + <p> + Wharton, who had stepped aside, knit his brows and flashed his + quizzing-glass—through sheer force of habit—upon Lord + Rotherby. Then: + </p> + <p> + “You'll pardon me, Harry,” said he, “but you'll see, I hope, that the + question is not impertinent; that I put it to the end that we may clearly + know with whom we have to deal and what consideration to extend him, what + credit to attach to the communication he is to make us touching my lord + here. Under what circumstances did you become acquainted with Mr. Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + “I have known him these twelve years,” answered Collis promptly; “so has + Stapleton, so has Gascoigne, so have a dozen other gentlemen who could be + produced, and who, like ourselves, were at Oxford with him. For myself and + Stapleton, I can say that our acquaintance—indeed, I should say our + friendship—with Mr. Caryll has been continuous since then, and that + we have visited him on several occasions at his estate of Maligny in + Normandy. That he habitually inhabits the country of his birth is the + reason why Mr. Caryll has not hitherto had the advantage of your grace's + acquaintance. Need I say more to efface the false statement made by my + Lord Rotherby?” + </p> + <p> + “False? Do you dare give me the lie, sir?” roared Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + But the duke soothed him. Under his profligate exterior his Grace of + Wharton concealed—indeed, wasted—a deal of shrewdness, ability + and inherent strength. “One thing at a time, my lord,” said the president + of the Bold Bucks. “Let us attend to the matter of Mr. Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + “Dons and the devil! Does your grace take sides with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I take no sides. But I owe it to myself—we all owe it to ourselves—that + this matter should be cleared.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby leered at him, his lip trembling with anger. “Does the president + of the Bold Bucks pretend to administrate a court of honor?” he sneered + heavily. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship will gain little by this,” Wharton admonished him, so + coldly that Rotherby belatedly came to some portion of his senses again. + The duke turned to Caryll. “Mr. Caryll,” said he, “Sir Harry has given you + very handsome credentials, which would seem to prove you worthy the + hospitality of White's. You have, however, permitted yourself certain + expressions concerning his lordship here, which we cannot allow to remain + where you have left them. You must retract, sir, or make them good.” His + gravity, and the preciseness of his diction now, sorted most oddly with + his foppish airs. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll closed his snuff-box with a snap. A hush fell instantly upon + the company, which by now was all crowding about the little table at which + sat Mr. Caryll and his three friends. A footman who entered at the moment + to snuff the candles and see what the gentlemen might be requiring, was + dismissed the room. When the door had closed, Mr. Caryll began to speak. + </p> + <p> + One more attempt was made by Rotherby to interfere, but this attempt was + disposed of by Wharton, who had constituted himself entirely master of the + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “If you will not allow Mr. Caryll to speak, we shall infer that you fear + what he may have to say; you will compel us to hear him in your absence, + and I cannot think that you would prefer that, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + My lord fell silent. He was breathing heavily, and his face was pale, his + eyes angry beyond words, what time Mr. Caryll, in amiable, musical voice, + with its precise and at moments slightly foreign enunciation, unfolded the + shameful story of the affair at the “Adam and Eve,” at Maidstone. He told + a plain, straightforward tale, making little attempt to reproduce any of + its color, giving his audience purely and simply the facts that had taken + place. He told how he himself had been chosen as a witness when my lord + had heard that there was a traveller from France in the house, and showed + how that slight circumstance had first awakened his suspicions of foul + play. He provoked some amusement when he dealt with his detection and + exposure of the sham parson. But in the main he was heard with a stern and + ominous attention—ominous for Lord Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + Rakes these men admittedly were with but few exceptions. No ordinary tale + of gallantry could have shocked them, or provoked them to aught but a + contemptuous mirth at the expense of the victim, male or female. They + would have thought little the worse of a man for running off with the + wife, say, of one of his acquaintance; they would have thought nothing of + his running off with a sister or a daughter—so long as it was not of + their own. All these were fair game, and if the husband, father or brother + could not protect the wife, sister or daughter that was his, the more + shame to him. But though they might be fair game, the game had its rules—anomalous + as it may seem. These rules Lord Rotherby—if the tale Mr. Caryll + told was true—had violated. He had practiced a cheat, the more + dastardly because the poor lady who had so narrowly escaped being his + victim had nether father nor brother to avenge her. And in every eye that + was upon him Lord Rotherby might have read, had he had the wit to do so, + the very sternest condemnation. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty story, as I've a soul!” was his grace's comment, when Mr. Caryll + had done. “A pretty story, my Lord Rotherby. I have a stomach for strong + meat myself. But—odds my life!—this is too nauseous!” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby glared at him. “'Slife! your grace is grown very nice on a + sudden!” he sneered. “The president of the Bold Bucks, the master of the + Hell Fire Club, is most oddly squeamish where the diversions of another + are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Diversions?” said his grace, his eyebrows raised until they all but + vanished under the golden curls of his peruke. “Diversions? Ha! I observe + that you make no attempt to deny the story. You admit it, then?” + </p> + <p> + There was a stir in the group, a drawing back from his lordship. He + observed it, trembling between chagrin and rage. “What's here?” he cried, + and laughed contemptuously. “Oh, ah! You'll follow where his grace leads + you! Ye've followed him so long in lewdness that now yell follow him in + conversion! But as for you, sir,” and he swung fiercely upon Caryll, “you + and your precious story—will you maintain it sword in hand?” + </p> + <p> + “I can do better,” answered Mr. Caryll, “if any doubts my word.” + </p> + <p> + “As how?” + </p> + <p> + “I can prove it categorically, by witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said, Caryll,” Stapleton approved him. + </p> + <p> + “And if I say that you lie—you and your witnesses?” + </p> + <p> + “'T is you will be liar,” said Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, it is a little late for that,” cut in the duke. + </p> + <p> + “Your grace,” cried Rotherby, “is this affair yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank Heaven!” said his grace, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby scowled at the man who until ten minutes ago had been his friend + and boon companion, and there was more of contempt than anger in his eyes. + He turned again to Mr. Caryll, who was watching him with a gleam of + amusement—that infernally irritating amusement of his—in his + gray-green eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he demanded foolishly, “have you naught to say?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought,” returned Mr. Caryll, “that I had said enough.” And the + duke laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby's lip was curled. “Ha! You don't think, now, that you may have + said too much?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stifled a yawn. “Do you?” he inquired blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, by God! Too much for a gentleman to leave unpunished.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. But what gentleman is concerned in this?” + </p> + <p> + “I am!” thundered Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “I see. And how do you conceive that you answer the description?” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby swore at him with great choice and variety. “You shall learn,” he + promised him. “My friends shall wait on you to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder who will carry his message?” ventured Collis to the ceiling. + Rotherby turned on him, fierce as a rat. “It is a matter you may discover + to your cost, Sir Harry,” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” put in his grace very languidly, “that you are troubling the + harmony that is wont to reign here.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship stood still a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he snatched up a + candlestick to hurl at Mr. Caryll. But he had it wrenched from his hands + ere he could launch it. + </p> + <p> + He stood a moment, discomfited, glowering upon his brother. “My friends + shall wait on you to-night,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “You said so before,” Mr. Caryll replied wearily. “I shall endeavor to + make them welcome.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship nodded stupidly, and strode to the door. His departure was + observed in silence. On every face he read his sentence. These men—rakes + though they were, professedly—would own him no more for their + associate; and what these men thought to-night not a gentleman in town but + would be thinking the same tomorrow. He had the stupidity to lay it all to + the score of Mr. Caryll, not perceiving that he had brought it upon + himself by his own aggressiveness. He paused, his hand upon the doorknob, + and turned to loose a last shaft at them. + </p> + <p> + “As for you others, that follow your bell-wether there,” and he indicated + his grace, whose shoulder was towards him, “this matter ends not here.” + </p> + <p> + And with that general threat he passed out, and that snug room at White's + knew him no more. + </p> + <p> + Major Gascoigne was gathering up the cards that had been flung down when + first the storm arose. Mr. Caryll bent to assist him. And the last voice + Lord Rotherby heard as he departed was Mr. Caryll's, and the words it + uttered were: “Come, Ned; the deal is with you.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship swore through his teeth, and went downstairs heavily. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. SPURS TO THE RELUCTANT + </h2> + <p> + Before Mr. Caryll left White's—which he did at a comparatively early + hour, that he might be at home to receive Lord Rotherby's friends—not + a man present but had offered him his services in the affair he had upon + his hands. Wharton, indeed, was not to be denied for one; and for the + other Mr. Caryll desired Gascoigne to do him the honor of representing + him. + </p> + <p> + It was a fine, dry night, and feeling the need for exercise, Mr. Caryll + set out to walk the short distance from St. James's Street to his lodging, + with a link-boy, preceding him, for only attendant. Arrived home, he was + met by Leduc with the information that Sir Richard Everard was awaiting + him. He went in, and the next moment he was in the arms of his adoptive + father. + </p> + <p> + Greetings and minor courtesies disposed of, Sir Richard came straight to + the affair which he had at heart. “Well? How speeds the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll's face became overcast. He sat down, a thought wearily. + </p> + <p> + “So far as Lord Ostermore is concerned, it speeds—as you would wish + it. So far as I am concerned”—he paused and sighed—“I would + that it sped not at all, or that I was out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard looked at him with searching eyes. “How?” he asked. “What + would you have me understand?” + </p> + <p> + “That in spite of all that has been said between us, in spite of all the + arguments you have employed, and with which once, for a little while, you + convinced me, this task is loathsome to me in the last degree. Ostermore + is my father, and I can't forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “And your mother?” Sir Richard's tone was sad, rather than indignant; it + spoke of a bitter disappointment, not at the events, but at this man whom + he loved with all a father's love. + </p> + <p> + “It were idle to go over it all again. I know everything that you would—that + you could—say. I have said it all to myself again and again, in a + vain endeavor to steel myself to the business to which you plighted me. + Had Ostermore been different, perhaps it had been easier. I cannot say. As + it is, I see in him a weakling, a man of inferior intellect, who does not + judge things as you and I judge them, whose life cannot have been guided + by the rules that serve for men of stronger purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “You find excuses for him? For his deed?” cried Sir Richard, and his voice + was full of horror now; he stared askance at his adoptive son. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Oh, I don't know. On my soul and conscience, I don't know!” cried + Mr. Caryll, like one in pain. He rose and moved restlessly about the room. + “No,” he pursued more calmly, “I don't excuse him. I blame him—more + bitterly than you can think; perhaps more bitterly even than do you, for I + have had a look into his mind and see the exact place held there by my + mother's memory. I can judge and condemn him; but I can't execute him; I + can't betray him. I don't think I could do it even if he were not my + father.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and leaning his hands upon the table at which Sir Richard sat, + he faced him, and spoke in a voice of earnest pleading. “Sir Richard, this + was not the task to give me; or, if you had planned to give it me, you + should have reared me differently; you should not have sought to make of + me a gentleman. You have brought me up to principles of honor, and you ask + me now to outrage them, to cast them off, and to become a very Judas. Is't + wonderful I should rebel?” + </p> + <p> + They were hurtful words to Sir Richard—the poor fanatic whose mind + was all unsound on this one point, who had lived in contemplation of his + vengeance as a fasting monk lives through Lent in contemplation of the + Easter plenty. The lines of sorrow deepened in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Justin,” he said slowly, “you forget one thing. Honor is to be used with + men of honor; but he who allows his honor to stand a barrier between + himself and the man who has wronged him by dishonor, is no better than a + fool. You speak of yourself; you think of yourself. And what of me, + Justin? The things you say of yourself apply in a like degree—nay, + even more—to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you are not his son. Oh, believe me, I speak not hastily or + lightly. I have been torn this way and that in these past days, until at + moments the burden has been heavier than I could bear. Once, for a little + while, I thought I could do all and more than you expect of me—the + moment, indeed, in which I took the first step, and delivered him the + letter. But it was a moment of wild heat. I cooled, and reflection + followed, and since then, because so much was done, I have not known an + instant's peace of mind; I have endeavored to forget the position in which + I am placed; but I have failed. I cannot. And if I go through with this + thing, I shall not know another hour in life that is not poisoned by + remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “Remorse?” echoed Sir Richard, between consternation and anger. “Remorse?” + He laughed bitterly. “What ails thee, boy? Do you pretend that Lord + Ostermore should go unpunished? Do you go so far as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so. He has made others suffer, and it is just—as we understand + justice—that he should suffer in his turn. Though, when all is said, + he is but a poor egotist, too dull-witted to understand the full vileness + of his sin. He is suffering, as it is—cursed in his son; for 'the + father of a fool hath no joy.' He hates this son of his, and his son + despises him. His wife is a shrew, a termagant, who embitters every hour + of his existence. Thus he drags out his life, unloving and unloved, a + thing to evoke pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity?” cried Sir Richard in a voice of thunder. “Pity? Ha! As I've a + soul, Justin, he shall be more pitiful yet ere I have done with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, then. But—if you love me—find some other hand to do + the work.” + </p> + <p> + “If I love you, Justin?” echoed the other, and his voice softened, his + eyes looked reproachfully upon his adoptive child. “Needs there an 'if' to + that? Are you not all I have—my son, indeed?” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hands, and Justin took them affectionately and pressed + them in his own. + </p> + <p> + “You'll put these weak notions from your mind, Justin, and prove worthy + the noble lady who was your mother?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll moved aside again, hanging his head, his face pale and + troubled. Where Everard's arguments must fail, his own affection for + Everard was like to conquer him. It was very weak in him, he told himself; + but then his love for Everard was strong, and he would fain spare Everard + the pain he knew he must be occasioning him. Still he did battle, his + repugnance up in arms. + </p> + <p> + “I would you could see the matter as I see it,” he sighed. “This man grown + old, and reaping in his old age the fruits of the egotism he has sown. I + do not believe that in all the world there is a single soul would weep his + lordship's death—if we except, perhaps, Mistress Winthrop.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you pity him for that?” quoth Sir Richard coldly. “What right has + he to expect aught else? Who sows for himself, reaps for himself. I + marvel, indeed, that there should be even one to bewail him—to spare + him a kind thought.” + </p> + <p> + “And even there,” mused Mr. Caryll, “it is perhaps gratitude rather than + affection that inspires the kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Mistress Winthrop?” + </p> + <p> + “His ward. As sweet a lady, I think, as I have ever seen,” said Mr. + Caryll, incautious enthusiasm assailing him. Sir Richard's eyes narrowed. + </p> + <p> + “You have some acquaintance with her?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + Very briefly Mr. Caryll sketched for the second time that evening the + circumstances of his first meeting with Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard nodded sardonically. “Hum! He is his father's son, not a doubt + of that. 'Twill be a most worthy successor to my Lord Ostermore. But the + lady? Tell me of the lady. How comes she linked with them?” + </p> + <p> + “I scarce know, save from the scraps that I have heard. Her father, it + would seem, was Ostermore's friend, and, dying, he appointed Ostermore her + guardian. Her fortune, I take it, is very slender. Nevertheless, + Ostermore, whatever he may have done by other people, appears in this case + to have discharged his trust with zeal and with affection. But, indeed, + who could have done other where that sweet lady was concerned? You should + see her, Sir Richard!” He was pacing the room now as he spoke, and as he + spoke he warmed to his subject more and more. “She is middling tall, of a + most dainty slenderness, dark-haired, with a so sweet and saintly beauty + of face that it must be seen to be believed. And eyes—Lord! the + glory of her eyes! They are eyes that would lead a man into hell and make + him believe it heaven, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Love doth to her eyes repair + To help him of his blindness.'” + </pre> + <p> + Sir Richard watched him, displeasure growing in his face. “So!” he said at + last. “Is that the reason?” + </p> + <p> + “The reason of what?” quoth Mr. Caryll, recalled from his sweet rapture. + </p> + <p> + “The reason of these fresh qualms of yours. The reason of all this + sympathy for Ostermore; this unwillingness to perform the sacred duty that + is yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—on my soul, you do me wrong!” cried Mr. Caryll indignantly. “If + aught had been needed to spur me on, it had been my meeting with this + lady. It needed that to make me realize to the bitter full the wrong my + Lord Ostermore has done me in getting me; to make me realize that I am a + man without a name to offer any woman.” + </p> + <p> + But Sir Richard, watching him intently, shook his head and fetched a sigh + of sorrow and disdain. “Pshaw, Justin! How we befool ourselves! You think + it is not so; you try to think it is not so; but to me it is very plain. A + woman has arisen in your life, and this woman, seen but once or twice, + unknown a week or so ago, suffices to eclipse the memory of your mother + and turns your aim in life—the avenging of her bitter wrongs—to + water. Oh, Justin, Justin! I had thought you stronger.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conclusions are all wrong. I swear they are wrong!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard considered him sombrely. “Are you sure—quite, quite + sure?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll's eyes fell, as the doubt now entered his mind for the first + time that it might be indeed as Sir Richard was suggesting. He was not + quite sure. + </p> + <p> + “Prove it to me, Justin,” Everard pleaded. “Prove it by abandoning this + weakness where my Lord Ostermore is concerned. Remember only the wrong he + has done. You are the incarnation of that wrong, and by your hand must he + be destroyed.” He rose, and caught the younger man's hands again in his + own, forced Mr. Caryll to confront him. “He shall know when the time comes + whose hand it was that pulled him down; he shall know the Nemesis that has + lain in wait for him these thirty years to smite him at the end. And he + shall taste hell in this world before he goes to it in the next. It is + God's own justice, boy! Will you be false to the duty that lies before + you? Will you forget your mother and her sufferings because you have + looked into the eyes of this girl, who—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Say no more!” cried Mr. Caryll, his voice trembling. + </p> + <p> + “You will do it,” said Sir Richard, between question and assertion. + </p> + <p> + “If Heaven lends me strength of purpose. But it asks much,” was the gloomy + answer. “I am to see Lord Ostermore to-morrow to obtain his answer to King + James' letter.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard's eyes gleamed. He released the other's hands, and turned + slowly to his chair again. “It is well,” he said slowly. “The thing asks + dispatch, or else some of his majesty's real friends may be involved.” + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to explain his words. “I have talked in vain with Atterbury. + He will not abandon the enterprise even at King James' commands. He urges + that his majesty can have no conception of how the matter is advanced; + that he has been laboring like Hercules, and that the party is being + swelled by men of weight and substance every day; that it is too late to + go back, and that he will go forward with the king's consent or without + it. Should he or his agents approach Ostermore, in the meantime, it will + be too late for us to take such measures as we have concerted. For to + deliver up Ostermore then would entail the betrayal of others, which is + not to be dreamt of. So you'll use dispatch.” + </p> + <p> + “If I do the thing at all, it shall be done to-morrow,” answered Mr. + Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “If at all?” cried Sir Richard, frowning again. “If at all?” + </p> + <p> + Caryll turned to him. He crossed to the table, and leaning across it, + until his face was quite close to his adoptive father's. “Sir Richard,” he + begged, “let us say no more to-night. My will is all to do the thing. It + is my—my instincts that rebel. I think that the day will be carried + by my will. I shall strive to that end, believe me. But let us say no more + now.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard, looking deep into Mr. Caryll's eyes, was touched by something + that he saw. “My poor Justin!” he said gently. Then, checking the sympathy + as swiftly as it rose: “So be it, then,” he said briskly. “You'll come to + me to-morrow after you have seen his lordship?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not remain here?” + </p> + <p> + “You have not the room. Besides, Sir Richard Everard—is too well + known for a Jacobite to be observed sharing your lodging. I have no right + at all in England, and there is always the chance of my being discovered. + I would not pull you down with me. I am lodged at the corner of Maiden + Lane, next door to the sign of Golden Flitch. Come to me there to-morrow + after you have seen Lord Ostermore.” He hesitated a moment. He was + impelled to recapitulate his injunctions; but he forbore. He put out his + hand abruptly. “Good-night, Justin.” + </p> + <p> + Justin took the hand and pressed it. The door opened, and Leduc entered. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Mainwaring and Mr. Falgate are here, sir, and would speak with + you,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll knit his brows a moment. His acquaintance with both men was of + the slightest, and it was only upon reflection that he bethought him they + would, no doubt, be come in the matter of his affair with Rotherby, which + in the stress of his interview with Sir Richard had been quite forgotten. + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Wait upon Sir Richard to the door, Leduc,” he bade his man. “Then + introduce these gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard had drawn back a step. “I trust neither of these gentlemen + knows me,” he said. “I would not be seen here by any that did. It might + compromise you.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Caryll belittled Sir Richard's fears. “Pooh! 'Tis very unlike,” + said he; whereupon Sir Richard, seeing no help for it, went out quickly, + Leduc in attendance. + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby's friends in the ante-room paid little heed to him as he + passed briskly through. Surveillance came rather from an entirely + unsuspected quarter. As he left the house and crossed the square, a figure + detached itself from the shadow of the wall, and set out to follow. It + hung in his rear through the filthy, labyrinthine streets which Sir + Richard took to Charing Cross, followed him along the Strand and up + Bedford Street, and took note of the house he entered at the corner of + Maiden Lane. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE ASSAULT-AT-ARMS + </h2> + <p> + The meeting was appointed by my Lord Rotherby for seven o'clock next + morning in Lincoln's Inn Fields. It is true that Lincoln's Inn Fields at + an early hour of the day was accounted a convenient spot for the + transaction of such business as this; yet, considering that it was in the + immediate neighborhood of Stretton House, overlooked, indeed, by the + windows of that mansion, it is not easy to rid the mind of a suspicion + that Rotherby appointed that place of purpose set, and with intent to mark + his contempt and defiance of his father, with whom he supposed Mr. Caryll + to be in some league. + </p> + <p> + Accompanied by the Duke of Wharton and Major Gascoigne, Mr. Caryll entered + the enclosure promptly as seven was striking from St. Clement Danes. They + had come in a coach, which they had left in waiting at the corner of + Portugal Row. + </p> + <p> + As they penetrated beyond the belt of trees they found that they were the + first in the field, and his grace proceeded with the major to inspect the + ground, so that time might be saved against the coming of the other party. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stood apart, breathing the freshness of the sunlit morning, but + supremely indifferent to its glory. He was gloomy and preoccupied. He had + slept ill that night after his interview with Sir Richard, tormented by + the odious choice that lay before him of either breaking with the adoptive + father to whom he owed obedience and affection, or betraying his natural + father whom he had every reason to hate, yet who remained his father. He + had been able to arrive at no solution. Duty seemed to point one way; + instinct the other. Down in his heart he felt that when the moment came it + would be the behests of instinct that he would obey, and, in obeying them, + play false to Sir Richard and to the memory of his mother. It was the only + course that went with honor; and yet it was a course that must lead to a + break with the one friend he had in the world—the one man who stood + to him for family and kin. + </p> + <p> + And now, as if that were not enough to plague him, there was this quarrel + with Rotherby which he had upon his hands. That, too, he had been + considering during the wakeful hours of that summer night. Had he + reflected he must have seen that no other result could have followed his + narrative at White's last night; and yet it was a case in which reflection + would not have stayed him. Hortensia Winthrop's fair name was to be + cleansed of the smirch that had been cast upon it, and Justin was the only + man in whose power it had lain to do it. More than that—if more were + needed—it was Rotherby himself, by his aggressiveness, who had + thrust Mr. Caryll into a position which almost made it necessary for him + to explain himself; and that he could scarcely have done by any other than + the means which he had adopted. Under ordinary circumstances the matter + would have troubled him not at all; this meeting with such a man as + Rotherby would not have robbed him of a moment's sleep. But there came the + reflection—belatedly—that Rotherby was his brother, his + father's son; and he experienced just the same degree of repugnance at the + prospect of crossing swords with him as he did at the prospect of + betraying Lord Ostermore. Sir Richard would force upon him a parricide's + task; Fate a fratricide's. Truly, he thought, it was an enviable position, + his. + </p> + <p> + Pacing the turf, on which the dew still gleamed and sparkled diamond-like, + he pondered his course, and wondered now, at the last moment, was there no + way to avert this meeting. Could not the matter be arranged? He was + stirred out of his musings by Gascoigne's voice, raised to curse the + tardiness of Lord Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “'Slife! Where does the fellow tarry? Was he so drunk last night that he's + not yet slept himself sober?” + </p> + <p> + “The streets are astir,” put in Wharton, helping himself to snuff. And, + indeed, the cries of the morning hawkers reached them now from the four + sides of the square. “If his lordship does not come soon, I doubt if we + may stay for him. We shall have half the town for spectators.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are these?” quoth Gascoigne, stepping aside and craning his neck to + get a better view. “Ah! Here they come.” And he indicated a group of three + that had that moment passed the palings. + </p> + <p> + Gascoigne and Wharton went to meet the newcomers. Lord Rotherby was + attended by Mainwaring, a militia captain—a great, burly, scarred + bully of a man—and a Mr. Falgate, an extravagant young buck of his + acquaintance. An odder pair of sponsors he could not have found had he + been at pains to choose them so. + </p> + <p> + “Adso!” swore Mr. Falgate, in his shrill, affected voice. “I vow 'tis a + most ungenteel hour, this, for men of quality to be abroad. I had my + beauty sleep broke into to be here in time. Lard! I shall be dozing all + day for't!” He took off his hat and delicately mopped his brow with a + square of lace he called a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we come to business, gentlemen?” quoth Mainwaring gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” answered Wharton. “It is growing late.” + </p> + <p> + “Late! La, my dears!” clucked Mr. Falgate in horror. “Has your grace not + been to bed yet?” + </p> + <p> + “To save time,” said Gascoigne, “we have made an inspection of the ground, + and we think that under the trees yonder is a spot not to be bettered.” + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring flashed a critical and experienced eye over the place. “The sun + is—So?” he said, looking up. “Yes; it should serve well enough, I—” + </p> + <p> + “It will not serve at all,” cried Rotherby, who stood a pace or two apart. + “A little to the right, there, the turf is better.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is no protection,” put in the duke. “You will be under + observation from that side of the square, including Stretton House.” + </p> + <p> + “What odds?” quoth Rotherby. “Do I care who overlooks us?” And he laughed + unpleasantly. “Or is your grace ashamed of being seen in your friend's + company?” + </p> + <p> + Wharton looked him steadily in the face a moment, then turned to his + lordship's seconds. “If Mr. Caryll is of the same mind as his lordship, we + had best get to work at once,” he said; and bowing to them, withdrew with + Gascoigne. + </p> + <p> + “See to the swords, Mainwaring,” said Rotherby shortly. “Here, Fanny!” + This to Falgate, whose name was Francis, and who delighted in the feminine + diminutive which his intimates used toward him. “Come help me with my + clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “I vow to Gad,” protested Mr. Falgate, advancing to the task. “I make but + an indifferent valet, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stood thoughtful a moment when Rotherby's wishes had been made + known to him. The odd irony of the situation—the key to which he was + the only one to hold—was borne in upon him. He fetched a sigh of + utter weariness. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said he, “the greatest repugnance to meeting his lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis little wonder,” returned his grace contemptuously. “But since 'tis + forced upon you, I hope you'll give him the lesson in manners that he + needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it—is it unavoidable?” quoth Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Unavoidable?” Wharton looked at him in stern wonder. + </p> + <p> + Gascoigne, too, swung round to stare. “Unavoidable? What can you mean, + Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean is the matter not to be arranged in any way? Must the duel take + place?” + </p> + <p> + His Grace of Wharton stroked his chin contemplatively, his eye ironical, + his lip curling never so slightly. “Why,” said he, at length, “you may beg + my Lord Rotherby's pardon for having given him the lie. You may retract, + and brand yourself a liar and your version of the Maidstone affair a silly + invention which ye have not the courage to maintain. You may do that, Mr. + Caryll. For my own sake, let me add, I hope you will not do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not thinking of your grace at all,” said Mr. Caryll, slightly piqued + by the tone the other took with him. “But to relieve your mind of such + doubts as I see you entertain, I can assure you that it is out of no + motives of weakness that I boggle at this combat. Though I confess that I + am no ferrailleur, and that I abhor the duel as a means of settling a + difference just as I abhor all things that are stupid and insensate, yet I + am not the man to shirk an encounter where an encounter is forced upon me. + But in this affair—” he paused, then ended—“there is more than + meets your grace's eye, or, indeed, anyone's.” + </p> + <p> + He was so calm, so master of himself, that Wharton perceived how + groundless must have been his first notion. Whatever might be Mr. Caryll's + motives, it was plain from his most perfect composure that they were not + motives of fear. His grace's half-contemptuous smile was dissipated. + </p> + <p> + “This is mere trifling, Mr. Caryll,” he reminded his principal, “and time + is speeding. Your withdrawal now would not only be damaging to yourself; + it would be damaging to the lady of whose fair name you have made yourself + the champion. You must see that it is too late for doubts on the score of + this meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—by God!” swore Gascoigne hotly. “What a pox ails you, Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll took off his hat and flung it on the ground behind him. “We + must go on, then,” said he. “Gascoigne, see to the swords with his + lordship's friend there.” + </p> + <p> + With a relieved look, the major went forward to make the final + preparations, whilst Mr. Caryll, attended by Wharton, rapidly divested + himself of coat and waistcoat, then kicked off his light shoes, and stood + ready, a slight, lithe, graceful figure in white Holland shirt and + pearl-colored small clothes. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the adversaries were face to face—Rotherby, divested + of his wig and with a kerchief bound about his close-cropped head, all a + trembling eagerness; Mr. Caryll with a reluctance lightly masked by a + dangerous composure. + </p> + <p> + There was a perfunctory salute—a mere presenting of arms—and + the blades swept round in a half-circle to their first meeting. But + Rotherby, without so much as allowing his steel to touch his opponent's, + as the laws of courtesy demanded, swirled it away again into the higher + lines and lunged. It was almost like a foul attempt to take his adversary + unawares and unprepared, and for a second it looked as if it must succeed. + It must have succeeded but for the miraculous quickness of Mr. Caryll. + Swinging round on the ball of his right foot, lightly and gracefully as a + dancing master, and with no sign of haste or fear in his amazing speed, he + let the other's hard-driven blade glance past him, to meet nothing but the + empty air. + </p> + <p> + As a result, by the very force of the stroke, Rotherby found himself + over-reached and carried beyond his point of aim; while Mr. Caryll's + sideward movement brought him not only nearer his opponent, but entirely + within his guard. + </p> + <p> + It was seen by them all, and by none with such panic as Rotherby himself, + that, as a consequence of his quasi-foul stroke, the viscount was thrown + entirely at the mercy of his opponent thus at the very outset of the + encounter, before their blades had so much as touched each other. A + straightening of the arm on the part of Mr. Caryll, and the engagement + would have been at an end. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, however, did not straighten his arm. He was observed to smile + as he broke ground and waited for his lordship to recover. + </p> + <p> + Falgate turned pale. Mainwaring swore softly under his breath, in fear for + his principal; Gascoigne did the same in vexation at the opportunity Mr. + Caryll had so wantonly wasted. Wharton looked on with tight-pressed lips, + and wondered. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby recovered, and for a moment the two men stood apart, seeming to + feel each other with their eyes before resuming. Then his lordship renewed + the attack with vigor. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll parried lightly and closely, plying a beautiful weapon in the + best manner of the French school, and opposing to the ponderous force of + his antagonist a delicate frustrating science. Rotherby, a fine swordsman + in his way, soon saw that here was need for all his skill, and he exerted + it. But the prodigious rapidity of his blade broke as upon a cuirass + against the other's light, impenetrable guard. + </p> + <p> + His lordship broke ground, breathed heavily, and sweated under the glare + of the morning sun, cursing this swordsman who, so cool and deliberate, + husbanded his strength and scarcely seemed to move, yet by sheer skill and + address more than neutralized his lordship's advantages of greater + strength and length of reach. + </p> + <p> + “You cursed French dog!” swore the viscount presently, between his teeth, + and as he spoke he made a ringing parade, feinted, beat the ground with + his foot to draw off the other's attention, and went in again with a + full-length lunge. “Parry that, you damned maitre-d'armes” he roared. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll answered nothing; he parried; parried again; delivered a + riposte whenever the opportunity offered, or whenever his lordship grew + too pressing, and it became expedient to drive him back; but never once + did he stretch out to lunge in his turn. The seconds were so lost in + wonder at the beauty of this close play of his that they paid no heed to + what was taking place in the square about them. They never observed the + opening windows and the spectators gathering at them—as Wharton had + feared. Amongst these, had either of the combatants looked up, he would + have seen his own father on the balcony of Stretton House. A moment the + earl stood there, Lady Ostermore at his side; then he vanished into the + house again, to reappear almost at once in the street, with a couple of + footmen hurrying after him. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the combat went on. Once Lord Rotherby had attempted to fall + back for a respite, realizing that he was winded. But Mr. Caryll denied + him this, attacking now for the first time, and the rapidity of his play + was such that Rotherby opined—the end to be at hand, appreciated to + the full his peril. In a last desperate effort, gathering up what shreds + of strength remained him, he repulsed Mr. Caryll by a vigorous counter + attack. He saw an opening, feinted to enlarge it, and drove in quickly, + throwing his last ounce of strength into the effort. This time it could + not be said to have been parried. Something else happened. His blade, + coming foible on forte against Mr. Caryll's, was suddenly enveloped. It + was as if a tentacle had been thrust out to seize it. For the barest + fraction of a second was it held so by Mr. Caryll's sword; then, easily + but irresistibly, it was lifted out of Rotherby's hand, and dropped on the + turf a half-yard or so from his lordship's stockinged feet. + </p> + <p> + A cold sweat of terror broke upon him. He caught his breath with a + half-shuddering sob of fear, his eyes dilating wildly—for Mr. + Caryll's point was coming straight as an arrow at his throat. On it came + and on, until it was within perhaps three inches of the flesh. + </p> + <p> + There it was suddenly arrested, and for a long moment it was held there + poised, death itself, menacing and imminent. And Lord Rotherby, not daring + to move, rooted where he stood, looked with fascinated eyes along that + shimmering blade into two gleaming eyes behind it that seemed to watch him + with a solemnity that was grim to the point of mockery. + </p> + <p> + Time and the world stood still, or were annihilated in that moment for the + man who waited. + </p> + <p> + High in the blue overhead a lark was pouring out its song; but his + lordship heard it not. He heard nothing, he was conscious of nothing but + that gleaming sword and those gleaming eyes behind it. + </p> + <p> + Then a voice—the voice of his antagonist—broke the silence. + “Is more needed?” it asked, and without waiting for a reply, Mr. Caryll + lowered his blade and drew himself upright. “Let this suffice,” he said. + “To take your life would be to deprive you of the means of profiting by + this lesson.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rotherby as if he were awaking from a trance. The world + resumed its way. He breathed again, and straightened himself, too, from + the arrested attitude of his last lunge. Rage welled up from his black + soul; a crimson flood swept into his pallid cheeks; his eyes rolled and + blazed with the fury of the mad. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll moved away. In that quiet voice of his: “Take up your sword,” + he said to the vanquished, over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Wharton and Gascoigne moved towards him, without words to express the + amazement that still held Rotherby glared an instant longer without + moving. Then, doing as Mr. Caryll had bidden him, he stooped to recover + his blade. A moment he held it, looking after his departing adversary; + then with swift, silent stealth he sprang to follow. His fell intent was + written on his face. + </p> + <p> + Falgate gasped—a helpless fool—while Mainwaring hurled himself + forward to prevent the thing he saw impended. Too late. Even as he flung + out his hands to grapple with his lordship, Rotherby's arm drove straight + before him and sent his sword through the undefended back of Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + All that Mr. Caryll realized at first was that he had been struck a blow + between the shoulder blades; and then, ere he could turn to inquire into + the cause, he was amazed to see some three inches of steel come through + his shirt in front. The next instant an exquisite, burning, searing pain + went through and through him as the blade was being withdrawn. He coughed + and swayed, then hurtled sideways into the arms of Major Gascoigne. His + senses swam. The turf heaved and rolled as if an earthquake moved it; the + houses fronting the square and the trees immediately before him leaped and + danced as if suddenly launched into grotesque animation, while about him + swirled a wild, incoherent noise of voices, rising and falling, now loud, + now silent, and reaching him through a murmuring hum that surged about his + ears until it shut out all else and consciousness deserted him. + </p> + <p> + Around him, meanwhile, a wild scene was toward. + </p> + <p> + His Grace of Wharton had wrenched away the sword from Rotherby, and + mastered by an effort his own impulse to use it upon the murderer. Captain + Mainwaring—Rotherby's own second, a man of quick, fierce passions—utterly + unable to control himself, fell upon his lordship and beat him to the + ground with his hands, cursing him and heaping abuse upon him with every + blow; whilst delicate Mr. Falgate, in the background, sick to the point of + faintness, stood dabbing his lips with his handkerchief and swearing that + he would rot before he allowed himself again to be dragged into an affair + of honor. + </p> + <p> + “Ye damned cutthroat!” swore the militia captain, standing over the man he + had felled. “D'ye know what'll be the fruits of this? Ye'll swing at + Tyburn like the dirty thief y' are. God help me! I'd give a hundred + guineas sooner than be mixed in this filthy business.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis no matter for that now,” said the duke, touching him on the shoulder + and drawing him away from his lordship. “Get up, Rotherby.” + </p> + <p> + Heavily, mechanically, Rotherby got to his feet. Now that the fit of rage + was over, he was himself all stricken at the thing he had done. He looked + at the limp figure on the turf, huddled against the knee of Major + Gascoigne; looked at the white face, the closed eyes and the stain of + blood oozing farther and farther across the Holland shirt, and, as white + himself as the stricken man, he shuddered and his mouth was drawn wide + with horror. + </p> + <p> + But pitiful though he looked, he inspired no pity in the Duke of Wharton, + who considered him with an eye of unspeakable severity. “If Mr. Caryll + dies,” said he coldly, “I shall see to it that you hang, my lord. I'll not + rest until I bring you to the gallows.” + </p> + <p> + And then, before more could be said, there came a sound of running steps + and labored breathing, and his grace swore softly to himself as he beheld + no other than Lord Ostermore advancing rapidly, all out of breath and + apoplectic of face, a couple of footmen pressing close upon his heels, + and, behind these, a score of sightseers who had followed them. + </p> + <p> + “What's here?” cried the earl, without glancing at his son. “Is he dead? + Is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + Gascoigne, who was busily endeavoring to stanch the bleeding, answered + without looking up: “It is in God's hands. I think he is very like to + die.” + </p> + <p> + Ostermore swung round upon Rotherby. He had paled suddenly, and his mouth + trembled. He raised his clenched hand, and it seemed that he was about to + strike his son; then he let it fall again. “You villain!” he panted, + breathless from running and from rage. “I saw it! I saw it all. It was + murder, and, as God's my life, if Mr. Caryll dies, I shall see to it that + you hang—I, your own father.” + </p> + <p> + Thus assailed on every side, some of the cowering, shrinking manner left + the viscount. His antagonism to his father spurred him to a prouder + carriage. He shrugged indifferently. “So be it,” he said. “I have been + told that already. I don't greatly care.” + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring, who had been stooping over Mr. Caryll, and who had perhaps + more knowledge of wounds than any present, shook his head ominously. + </p> + <p> + “'Twould be dangerous to move him far,” said he. “'Twill increase the + hemorrhage.” + </p> + <p> + “My men shall carry him across to Stretton House,” said Lord Ostermore. + “Lend a hand here, you gaping oafs.” + </p> + <p> + The footmen advanced. The crowd, which was growing rapidly and was + watching almost in silence, awed, pressed as close as it dared upon these + gentlemen. Mainwaring procured a couple of cloaks and improvised a + stretcher with them. Of this he took one corner himself, Gascoigne + another, and the footmen the remaining two. Thus, as gently as might be, + they bore the wounded man from the enclosure, through the crowd that had + by now assembled in the street, and over the threshold of Stretton House. + </p> + <p> + A groom had been dispatched for a doctor, and his Grace of Wharton had + compelled Rotherby to accompany them into his father's house, sternly + threatening to hand him over to a constable at once if he refused. + </p> + <p> + Within the cool hall of Stretton House they were met by her ladyship and + Mistress Winthrop, both pale, but the eyes of each wearing a vastly + different expression. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” demanded her ladyship, as they trooped in. “Why do you + bring him here?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, madam,” answered Ostermore in a voice as hard as iron, “it + imports to save his life; for if he dies, your son dies as surely—and + on the scaffold.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship staggered and flung a hand to her breast. But her recovery + was almost immediate. “'Twas a duel—” she began stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas murder,” his lordship corrected, interrupting—“murder, as any + of these gentlemen can and will bear witness. Rotherby ran Mr. Caryll + through the back after Mr. Caryll had spared his life.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a lie!” screamed her ladyship, her lips ashen. She turned to + Rotherby, who stood there in shirt and breeches and shoeless, as he had + fought. “Why don't you say that it is a lie?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby endeavored to master himself. “Madam,” he said, “here is no place + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it true? Is it true what is being said?” + </p> + <p> + He half-turned from her, with a despairing movement, and caught the sharp + hiss of her indrawn breath. Then she swept past him to the side of the + wounded man, who had been laid on a settle. “What is his hurt?” she + inquired wildly, looking about her. But no one spoke. Tragedy—more + far than the tragedy of that man's possible death—was in the air, + and struck them all silent. “Will no one answer me?” she insisted. “Is it + mortal? Is it?” + </p> + <p> + His Grace of Wharton turned to her with an unusual gravity in his blue + eyes. “We hope not, ma'am,” he said. “But it is as God wills.” + </p> + <p> + Her limbs seemed to fail her, and she sank down on her knees beside the + settle. “We must save him,” she muttered fearfully. “We must save his + life. Where is the doctor? He won't die! Oh, he must not die!” + </p> + <p> + They stood grouped about, looking on in silence, Rotherby in the + background. Behind him again, on the topmost of the three steps that led + up into the inner hall, stood Mistress Winthrop, white of face, a wild + horror in the eyes she riveted upon the wounded and unconscious man. She + realized that he was like to die. There was an infinite pity in her soul—and, + maybe, something more. Her impulse was to go to him; her every instinct + urged her. But her reason held her back. + </p> + <p> + Then, as she looked, she saw with a feeling almost of terror that his eyes + were suddenly wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Wha—what?” came in feeble accents from his lips. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir about him. + </p> + <p> + “Never move, Justin,” said Gascoigne, who stood by his head. “You are + hurt. Lie still. The doctor has been summoned.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” It was a sigh. The wounded man closed his eyes a moment, then + re-opened them. “I remember. I remember,” he said feebly. “It is—it + is grave?” he inquired. “It went right through me. I remember!” He + surveyed himself. “There's been a deal of blood lost. I am like to die, I + take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir, we hope not—we hope not!” It was the countess who spoke. + </p> + <p> + A wry smile twisted his lips. “Your ladyship is very good,” said he. “I + had not thought you quite so much my well-wisher. I—I have done you + a wrong, madam.” He paused for breath, and it was not plain whether he + spoke in sincerity or in sarcasm. Then with a startling suddenness he + broke into a soft laugh and to those risen, who could not think what had + occasioned it, it sounded more dreadful than any plaint he could have + uttered. + </p> + <p> + He had bethought him that there was no longer the need for him to come to + a decision in the matter that had brought him to England, and his laugh + was almost of relief. The riddle he could never have solved for himself in + a manner that had not shattered his future peace of mind, was solved and + well solved if this were death. + </p> + <p> + “Where—where is Rotherby?” he inquired presently. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir, and men drew back, leaving an open lane to the place + where Rotherby stood. Mr. Caryll saw him, and smiled, and his smile held + no tinge of mockery. “You are the best friend I ever had, Rotherby,” he + startled all by saying. “Let him approach,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby came forward like one who walks in his sleep. “I am sorry,” he + said thickly, “cursed sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “There's scarce the need,” said Mr. Caryll. “Lift me up, Tom,” he begged + Gascoigne. “There's scarce the need. You have cleared up something that + was plaguing me, my lord. I am your debtor for—for that. It disposes + of something I could never have disposed of had I lived.” He turned to the + Duke of Wharton. “It was an accident,” he said significantly. “You all saw + that it was an accident.” + </p> + <p> + A denial rang out. “It was no accident!” cried Lord Ostermore, and swore + an oath. “We all saw what it was.” + </p> + <p> + “I'faith, then, your eyes deceived you. It was an accident, I say—and + who should know better than I?” He was smiling in that whimsical enigmatic + way of his. Smiling still he sank back into Gascoigne's arms. + </p> + <p> + “You are talking too much,” said the Major. + </p> + <p> + “What odds? I am not like to talk much longer.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened to admit a gentleman in black, wearing a grizzle wig and + carrying a gold-headed cane. Men moved aside to allow him to approach Mr. + Caryll. The latter, not noticing him, had met at last the gaze of + Hortensia's eyes. He continued to smile, but his smile was now changed to + wistfulness under that pitiful regard of hers. + </p> + <p> + “It is better so,” he was saying. “Better so!” + </p> + <p> + His glance was upon her, and she understood what none other there + suspected—that those words were for her alone. + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes and swooned again, as the doctor stooped to remove the + temporary bandages from his wound. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia, a sob beating in her throat, turned and fled to her own room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + </h2> + <h3> + Mr. Caryll was almost happy. + </h3> + <p> + He reclined on a long chair, supported by pillows cunningly set for him by + the deft hands of Leduc, and took his ease and indulged his day-dreams in + Lord Ostermore's garden. He sat within the cool, fragrant shade of a + privet arbor, interlaced with flowering lilac and laburnum, and he looked + out upon the long sweep of emerald lawn and the little patch of ornamental + water where the water-lilies gaped their ivory chalices to the morning + sun. + </p> + <p> + He looked thinner, paler and more frail than was his habit, which is not + wonderful, considering that he had been four weeks abed while his wound + was mending. He was dressed, again by the hands of the incomparable Leduc, + in a deshabille of some artistry. A dark-blue dressing-gown of flowered + satin fell open at the waist; disclosing sky-blue breeches and + pearl-colored stockings, elegant shoes of Spanish leather with red heels + and diamond buckles. His chestnut hair had been dressed with as great care + as though he were attending a levee, and Leduc had insisted upon placing a + small round patch under his left eye, that it might—said Leduc—impart + vivacity to a countenance that looked over-wan from his long confinement. + </p> + <p> + He reclined there, and, as I have said, was almost happy. + </p> + <p> + The creature of sunshine that was himself at heart, had broken through the + heavy clouds that had been obscuring him. An oppressive burden was lifted + from his mind and conscience. That sword-thrust through the back a month + ago had been guided, he opined, by the hand of a befriending Providence; + for although he had, as you see, survived it, it had none the less solved + for him that hateful problem he could never have solved for himself, that + problem whose solution,—no matter which alternative he had adopted—must + have brought him untold misery afterwards. + </p> + <p> + As it was, during the weeks that he had lain helpless, his life attached + to him by but the merest thread, the chance of betraying Lord Ostermore + was gone, nor—the circumstances being such as they were—could + Sir Richard Everard blame him that he had let it pass. + </p> + <p> + Thus he knew peace; knew it as only those know it who have sustained + unrest and can appreciate relief from it. + </p> + <p> + Nature had made him a voluptuary, and reclining there in an ease which the + languor born of his long illness rendered the more delicious, inhaling the + tepid summer air that came to him laden with a most sweet attar from the + flowering rose-garden, he realized that with all its cares life may be + sweet to live in youth and in the month of June. + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and smiled pensively at the water-lilies; nor was his happiness + entirely and solely the essence of his material ease. This was his third + morning out of doors, and on each of the two mornings that were gone + Hortensia had borne him company, coming with the charitable intent of + lightening his tedium by reading to him, but remaining to talk instead. + </p> + <p> + The most perfect friendliness had prevailed between them; a camaraderie + which Mr. Caryll had been careful not to dispel by any return to such + speeches as those which had originally offended but which seemed now + mercifully forgotten. + </p> + <p> + He was awaiting her, and his expectancy heightened for him the glory of + the morning, increased the meed of happiness that was his. But there was + more besides. Leduc, who stood slightly behind him, fussily, busy about a + little table on which were books and cordials, flowers and comfits, a pipe + and a tobacco-jar, had just informed him for the first time that during + the more dangerous period of his illness Mistress Winthrop had watched by + his bedside for many hours together upon many occasions, and once—on + the day after he had been wounded, and while his fever was at its height—Leduc, + entering suddenly and quietly, had surprised her in tears. + </p> + <p> + All this was most sweet news to Mr. Caryll. He found that between himself + and his half-brother there lay an even deeper debt than he had at first + supposed, and already acknowledged. In the delicious contemplation of + Hortensia in tears beside him stricken all but to the point of death, he + forgot entirely his erstwhile scruples that being nameless he had no name + to offer her. In imagination he conjured up the scene. It made, he found, + a very pretty picture. He would smoke upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Leduc, if you were to fill me a pipe of Spanish—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur has smoked one pipe already,” Leduc reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “You are inconsequent, Leduc. It is a sign of advancing age. Repress it. + The pipe!” And he flicked impatient fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is forgetting that the doctor—” + </p> + <p> + “The devil take the doctor,” said Mr. Caryll with finality. + </p> + <p> + “Parfaitement!” answered the smooth Leduc. “Over the bridge we laugh at + the saint. Now that we are cured, the devil take the doctor by all means.” + </p> + <p> + A ripple of laughter came to applaud Leduc's excursion into irony. The + arbor had another, narrower entrance, on the left. Hortensia had + approached this, all unheard on the soft turf, and stood there now, a + heavenly apparition in white flimsy garments, head slightly a-tilt, eyes + mocking, lips laughing, a heavy curl of her dark hair falling caressingly + into the hollow where white neck sprang from whiter shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You make too rapid a recovery, sir,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “It comes of learning how well I have been nursed,” he answered, making + shift to rise, and he laughed inwardly to see the red flush of confusion + spread over the milk-white skin, the reproachful shaft her eyes let loose + upon Leduc. + </p> + <p> + She came forward swiftly to check his rising; but he was already on his + feet, proud of his return to strength, vain to display it. “Nay,” she + reproved him. “If you are so headstrong, I shall leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do, ma'am. I vow here, as I am, I hope, a gentleman, that I shall + go home to-day, and on foot.” + </p> + <p> + “You would kill yourself,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “I might kill myself for less, and yet be justified.” + </p> + <p> + She looked her despair of him. “What must I do to make you reasonable?” + </p> + <p> + “Set me the example by being reasonable yourself, and let there be no more + of this wild talk of leaving me the very moment you are come. Leduc, a + chair for Mistress Winthrop!” he commanded, as though chairs abounded in a + garden nook. But Leduc, the diplomat, had effaced himself. + </p> + <p> + She laughed at his grand air, and, herself, drew forward the stool that + had been Leduc's, and sat down. Satisfied, Mr. Caryll made her a bow, and + seated himself sideways on his long chair, so that he faced her. She + begged that he would dispose himself more comfortably; but he scorned the + very notion. + </p> + <p> + “Unaided I walked here from the house,” he informed her with a boastful + air. “I had need to begin to feel my feet again. You are pampering me + here, and to pamper an invalid is bad; it keeps him an invalid. Now I am + an invalid no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “But the doctor—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, ma'am, is disposed of already,” he assured her. “Very + definitely disposed of. Ask Leduc. He will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a doubt of that,” she answered. “Leduc talks too much.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a spite against him for the information he gave me on the score + of how and by whom I was nursed. So have I. Because he did not tell me + before, and because when he told me he would not tell me enough. He has no + eyes, this Leduc. He is a dolt, who only sees the half of what happens, + and only remembers the half of what he has seen.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He looked surprised an instant. Then he laughed. “I am glad that we + agree.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have yet to learn the cause. Had this Leduc used his eyes or his + ears to better purpose, he had been able to tell you something of the + extent to which I am in your debt.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” said he, mystified. Then: “The news will be none the less welcome + from your lips, ma'am,” said he. “Is it that you are interested in the + ravings of delirium, and welcomed the opportunity of observing them at + first hand? I hope I raved engagingly, if so be that I did rave. Would it, + perchance, be of a lady that I talked in my fevered wanderings?—of a + lady pale as a lenten rose, with soft brown eyes, and lips that—” + </p> + <p> + “Your guesses are all wild,” she checked him. “My debt is of a more real + kind. It concerns my—my reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Fan me, ye winds!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Those fine ladies and gentlemen of the town had made my name a by-word,” + she explained in a low, tense voice, her eyelids lowered. “My foolishness + in running off with my Lord Rotherby—that I might at all cost escape + the tyranny of my Lady Ostermore” (Mr. Caryll's eyelids flickered suddenly + at that explanation)—“had made me a butt and a jest and an object + for slander. You remember, yourself, sir, the sneers and oglings, the + starings and simperings in the park that day when you made your first + attempt to champion my cause, inducing the Lady Mary Deller to come and + speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay—think of these things no more. Gnats will sting; 'tis in + their nature. I admit 'tis very vexing at the time; but it soon wears off + if the flesh they have stung be healthy. So think no more on't.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not know what follows. Her ladyship insisted that I should + drive with her a week after your hurt, when the doctor first proclaimed + you out of danger, and while the town was still all agog with the affair. + No doubt her ladyship thought to put a fresh and greater humiliation upon + me; you would not be present to blunt the edge of the insult of those + creatures' glances. She carried me to Vauxhall, where a fuller scope might + be given to the pursuit of my shame and mortification. Instead, what think + you happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship, I trust, was disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “The word is too poor to describe her condition. She broke a fan, beat her + black boy and dismissed a footman, that she might vent some of the spleen + it moved in her. Never was such respect, never such homage shown to any + woman as was shown to me that evening. We were all but mobbed by the very + people who had earlier slighted me. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas all so mysterious that I must seek the explanation of it. And I had + it, at length, from his Grace of Wharton, who was at my side for most of + the time we walked in the gardens. I asked him frankly to what was this + change owing. And he told me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him as though no more need be said. But his brows were knit. + “He told you, ma'am?” he questioned. “He told you what?” + </p> + <p> + “What you had done at White's. How to all present and to my Lord + Rotherby's own face you had related the true story of what befell at + Maidstone—how I had gone thither, an innocent, foolish maid, to be + married to a villain, whom, like the silly child I was, I thought I loved; + how that villain, taking advantage of my innocence and ignorance, intended + to hoodwink me with a mock-marriage. + </p> + <p> + “That was the story that was on every lip; it had gone round the town like + fire; and it says much for the town that what between that and the foul + business of the duel, my Lord Rotherby was receiving on every hand the + condemnation he deserves, while for me there was once more—and with + heavy interest for the lapse from it—the respect which my + indiscretion had forfeited, and which would have continued to be denied me + but for your noble championing of my cause. + </p> + <p> + “That, sir, is the extent to which. I am in your debt. Do you think it + small? It is so great that I have no words in which to attempt to express + my thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at her a moment with eyes that were very bright. Then he + broke into a soft laugh that had a note of slyness. + </p> + <p> + “In my time,” said he, “I have seen many attempts to change an + inconvenient topic. Some have been artful; others artless; others utterly + clumsy. But this, I think, is the clumsiest of them all. Mistress + Winthrop, 'tis not worthy in you.” + </p> + <p> + She looked puzzled, intrigued by his mood. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Winthrop,” he resumed, with an entire change of voice. “To speak + of this trifle is but a subterfuge of yours to prevent me from expressing + my deep gratitude for your care of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, no—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes,” said he. “How can this compare with what you have done for + me? For I have learnt how greatly it is to you, yourself, that I owe my + recovery—the saving of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but that is not true. It—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me think so, whether it be true or not,” he implored her, eyes + between tenderness and whimsicality intent upon her face. “Let me believe + it, for the belief has brought me happiness—the greatest happiness, + I think, that I have ever known. I can know but one greater, and that—” + </p> + <p> + He broke off suddenly, and she observed that the hand he had stretched out + trembled a moment ere it was abruptly lowered again. It was as a man who + had reached forth to grasp something that he craves, and checked his + desire upon a sudden thought. + </p> + <p> + She felt oddly stirred, despite herself, and oddly constrained. It may + have been to disguise this that she half turned to the table, saying: “You + were about to smoke when I came.” And she took up his pipe and tobacco—jar + to offer them. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but since you've come, I would not dream,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him. The complete change of topic permitted it. “If I + desired you so to do?” she inquired, and added: “I love the fragrance of + it.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his brows. “Fragrance?” quoth he. “My Lady Ostermore has another + word for it.” He took the pipe and jar from her. “'Tis no humoring, this, + of a man you imagine sick—no silly chivalry of yours?” he questioned + doubtfully. “Did I think that, I'd never smoke another pipe again.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and laughed at his solemnity. “I love the fragrance,” + she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Why, then, I'll pleasure you,” said he, with the air of one + conferring favors, and filled his pipe. Presently he spoke again in a + musing tone. “In a week or so, I shall be well enough to travel.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis your intent to travel?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + He set down the jar, and reached for the tinderbox. “It is time I was + returning home,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. Your home is in France.” + </p> + <p> + “At Maligny; the sweetest nook in Normandy. 'Twas my mother's birthplace, + and 'twas there she died.” + </p> + <p> + “You have felt the loss of her, I make no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “That might have been the case if I had known her,” answered he. “But as + it is, I never did. I was but two years old—she, herself, but twenty—when + she died.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled at his pipe in silence a moment or two, his face overcast and + thoughtful. A shallower woman would have broken in with expressions of + regret; Hortensia offered him the nobler sympathy of silence. Moreover, + she had felt from his tone that there was more to come; that what he had + said was but the preface to some story that he desired her to be + acquainted with. And presently, as she expected, he continued. + </p> + <p> + “She died, Mistress Winthrop, of a broken heart. My father had abandoned + her two years and more before she died. In those years of repining—ay, + and worse, of actual want—her health was broken so that, poor soul, + she died.” + </p> + <p> + “O pitiful!” cried Hortensia, pain in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Pitiful, indeed—the more pitiful that her death was a source of + some slight happiness to those who loved her; the only happiness they + could have in her was to know that she was at rest.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming to him. My mother had a friend—a very noble, + lofty-minded gentleman who had loved her with a great and honest love + before the profligate who was my father came forward as a suitor. + Recognizing in the latter—as he thought in his honest heart—a + man in better case to make her happy, this gentleman I speak of went his + ways. He came upon her afterwards, broken and abandoned, and he gathered + up the poor shards of her shattered life, and sought with tender but + unavailing hands to piece them together again. And when she died he vowed + to stand my friend and to make up to me for the want I had of parents. + 'Tis by his bounty that to-day I am lord of Maligny that was for + generations the property of my mother's people. 'Tis by his bounty and + loving care that I am what I am, and not what so easily I might have + become had the seed sown by my father been allowed to put out shoots.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, as if bethinking himself, and looked at her with a wistful, + inquiring smile. “But why plague you,” he cried, “with this poor tale of + yesterday that will be forgot to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—ah, nay,” she begged, and put out a hand in impulsive sympathy + to touch his own, so transparent now in its emaciation. “Tell me; tell + me!” + </p> + <p> + His smile softened. He sighed gently and continued. “This gentleman who + adopted me lived for one single purpose, with one single aim in view—to + avenge my mother, whom he had loved, upon the man whom she had loved and + who had so ill repaid her. He reared me for that purpose, as much, I + think, as out of any other feeling. Thirty years have sped, and still the + hand of the avenger has not fallen upon my father. It should have fallen a + month ago; but I was weak; I hesitated; and then this sword-thrust put me + out of all case of doing what I had crossed from France to do.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with something of horror in her face. “Were you—were + you to have been the instrument?” she inquired. “Were you to have avenged + this thing upon your own father?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded slowly. “'Twas to that end that I was reared,” he answered, and + put aside his pipe, which had gone out. “The spirit of revenge was + educated into me until I came to look upon revenge as the best and holiest + of emotions; until I believed that if I failed to wreak it I must be a + craven and a dastard. All this seemed so until the moment came to set my + hand to the task. And then—” He shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't. The full horror of it burst upon me. I saw the thing in its + true and hideous proportions, and it revolted me.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been so,” she approved him. + </p> + <p> + “I told my foster-father; but I met with neither sympathy nor + understanding. He renewed his old-time arguments, and again he seemed to + prove to me that did I fail I should be false to my duty and to my + mother's memory—a weakling, a thing of shame.” + </p> + <p> + “The monster! Oh, the monster! He is an evil man for all that you have + said of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so. There is no nobler gentleman in all the world. I who know him, + know that. It is through the very nobility of it that this warp has come + into his nature. Sane in all things else, he is—I see it now, I + understand it at last—insane on this one subject. Much brooding has + made him mad upon this matter—a fanatic whose gospel is Vengeance, + and, like all fanatics, he is harsh and intolerant when resisted on the + point of his fanaticism. This is something I have come to realize in these + past days, when I lay with naught else to do but ponder. + </p> + <p> + “In all things else he sees as deep and clear as any man; in this his + vision is distorted. He has looked at nothing else for thirty years; can + you wonder that his sight is blurred?” + </p> + <p> + “He is to be pitied then,” she said, “deeply to be pitied.” + </p> + <p> + “True. And because I pitied him, because I valued his regard-however + mistaken he might be—above all else, I was hesitating again—this + time between my duty to myself and my duty to him. I was so hesitating—though + I scarce can doubt which had prevailed in the end—when came this + sword-thrust so very opportunely to put me out of case of doing one thing + or the other.” + </p> + <p> + “But now that you are well again?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Now that I am well again—I thank Heaven that it will be too late. + The opportunity that was ours is lost. His—my father should now be + beyond our power.” + </p> + <p> + There ensued a spell of silence. He sat with eyes averted from her face—those + eyes which she had never known other than whimsical and mocking, now full + of gloom and pain—riveted upon the glare of sunshine on the pond out + yonder. A great sympathy welled up from her heart for this man whom she + was still far from understanding, and who, nevertheless—because of + it, perhaps, for there is much fascination in that which puzzles—was + already growing very dear to her. The story he had told her drew her + infinitely closer to him, softening her heart for him even more perhaps + than it had already been softened when she had seen him—as she had + thought—upon the point of dying. A wonder flitted through her mind + as to why he had told her; then another question surged. She gave it + tongue. + </p> + <p> + “You have told me so much, Mr. Caryll,” she said, “that I am emboldened to + ask something more.” His eyes invited her to put her question. “Your—your + father? Was he related to Lord Ostermore?” + </p> + <p> + Not a muscle of his face moved. “Why that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because your name is Caryll,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “My name?” he laughed softly and bitterly. “My name?” He reached for an + ebony cane that stood beside his chair. “I had thought you understood.” He + heaved himself to his feet, and she forgot to caution him against + exertion. “I have no right to any name,” he told her. “My father was a man + too full of worldly affairs to think of trifles. And so it befell that + before he went his ways he forgot to marry the poor lady who was my + mother. I might take what name I chose. I chose Caryll. But you will + understand, Mistress Winthrop,” and he looked her fully in the face, + attempting in vain to dissemble the agony in his eyes—he who a + little while ago had been almost happy—“that if ever it should + happen that I should come to love a woman who is worthy of being loved, I + who am nameless have no name to offer her.” + </p> + <p> + Revelation illumined her mind as in a flash. She looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Was—was that what you meant, that day we thought you dying, when + you said to me—for it was to me you spoke, to me alone—that it + was better so?” + </p> + <p> + He inclined his head. “That is what I meant,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Her lids drooped; her cheeks were very white, and he remarked the swift, + agitated surge of her bosom, the fingers that were plucking at one another + in her lap. Without looking up, she spoke again. “If you had the love to + offer, what would the rest matter? What is a name that it should weigh so + much?” + </p> + <p> + “Heyday!” He sighed, and smiled very wistfully. “You are young, child. In + time you will understand what place the world assigns to such men as I. It + is a place I could ask no woman to share. Such as I am, could I speak of + love to any woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you spoke of love once to me,” she reminded him, scarcely above her + breath, and stabbed him with the recollection. + </p> + <p> + “In an hour of moonshine, an hour of madness, when I was a reckless fool + that must give tongue to every impulse. You reproved me then in just the + terms my case deserved. Hortensia,” he bent towards her, leaning on his + cane, “'tis very sweet and merciful in you to recall it without reproach. + Recall it no more, save to think with scorn of the fleering coxcomb who + was so lost to the respect that is due to so sweet a lady. I have told you + so much of myself to-day that you may.” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly,” came a shrill, ironical voice from the arbor's entrance, “I + may congratulate you, sir, upon the prodigious strides of your recovery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll straightened himself from his stooping posture, turned and made + Lady Ostermore a bow, his whole manner changed again to that which was + habitual to him. “And no less decidedly, my lady,” said he with a + tight-lipped smile, “may I congratulate your ladyship's son upon that + happy circumstance, which is—as I have learned—so greatly due + to the steps your ladyship took—for which I shall be ever grateful—to + ensure that I should be made whole again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE FORLORN HOPE + </h2> + <p> + Her ladyship stood a moment, leaning upon her cane, her head thrown back, + her thin lip curling, and her eyes playing over Mr. Caryll with a look of + dislike that she made no attempt to dissemble. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll found the situation redolent with comedy. He had a quick eye + for such matters; so quick an eye that he deplored on the present occasion + her ladyship's entire lack of a sense of humor. But for that lamentable + shortcoming, she might have enjoyed with him the grotesqueness of her + having—she, who disliked him so exceedingly—toiled and + anguished, robbed herself of sleep, and hoped and prayed with more fervor, + perhaps, than she had ever yet hoped and prayed for anything, that his + life might be spared. + </p> + <p> + Her glance shifted presently from him to Hortensia, who had risen and who + stood in deep confusion at having been so found by her ladyship, and in + deep agitation still arising from the things he had said and from those + which he had been hindered from adding by the coming of the countess. + </p> + <p> + The explanations that had been interrupted might never be renewed; she + felt they never would be; he would account that he had said enough; since + he was determined to ask for nothing. And unless the matter were broached + again, what chance had she of combatting his foolish scruples; for foolish + she accounted them; they were of no weight with her, unless, indeed, to + heighten the warm feeling that already she had conceived for him. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship moved forward a step or two, her fan going gently to and fro, + stirring the barbs of the white plume that formed part of her tall + head-dress. + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing here, child?” she inquired, very coldly. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Winthrop looked up—a sudden, almost scared glance it was. + </p> + <p> + “I, madam? Why—I was walking in the garden, and seeing Mr. Caryll + here, I came to ask him how he did; to offer to read to him if he would + have me.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Maidstone matter not yet cold in its grave!” commented her + ladyship sourly. “As I'm a woman, it is monstrous I should be inflicted + with the care of you that have no care for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia bit her lip, controlling herself bravely, a spot of red in + either cheek. Mr. Caryll came promptly to her rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship must confess that Mistress Winthrop has assisted nobly in + the care of me, and so, has placed your ladyship in her debt.” + </p> + <p> + “In my debt?” shrilled the countess, eyebrows aloft, head-dress nodding. + “And what of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “In my clumsy way, ma'am, I have already attempted to convey my thanks to + her. It might be graceful in your ladyship to follow my example.” + </p> + <p> + Mentally Mr. Caryll observed that it is unwise to rouge so heavily as did + Lady Ostermore when prone to anger and to paling under it. The false color + looks so very false on such occasions. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship struck the ground with her cane. “For what have I to thank + her, sir? Will you tell me that, you who seem so very well informed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, for her part in saving your son's life, ma'am, if you must have it. + Heaven knows,” he continued in his characteristic, half-bantering manner, + under which it was so difficult to catch a glimpse of his real feelings, + “I am not one to throw services done in the face of folk, but here have + Mistress Winthrop and I been doing our best for your son in this matter; + she by so diligently nursing me; I by responding to her nursing—and + your ladyship's—and so, recovering from my wound. I do not think + that your ladyship shows us a becoming gratitude. It is but natural that + we fellow-workers in your ladyship's and Lord Rotherby's interests, should + have a word to say to each other on the score of those labors which have + made us colleagues.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship measured him with a malignant eye. “Are you quite mad, sir?” + she asked him. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged and smiled. “It has been alleged against me on occasion. But I + think it was pure spite.” Then he waved his hand towards the long seat + that stood at the back of the arbor. “Will your ladyship not sit? You will + forgive that I urge it in my own interest. They tell me that it is not + good for me to stand too long just yet.” + </p> + <p> + It was his hope that she would depart. Not so. “I cry you mercy!” said she + acidly, and rustled to the bench. “Be seated, pray.” She continued to + watch them with her baleful glance. “We have heard fine things from you, + sir, of what you have both done for my Lord Rotherby,” she gibed, mocking + him with the spirit of his half-jest. “Shall I tell you more precisely + what 'tis he owes you?” + </p> + <p> + “Can there be more?” quoth Mr. Caryll, smiling so amiably that he must + have disarmed a Gorgon. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship ignored him. “He owes it to you both that you have estranged + him from his father, set up a breach between them that is never like to be + healed. 'Tis what he owes you.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he not owe it, rather, to his abandoned ways?” asked Hortensia, in a + calm, clear voice, bravely giving back her ladyship look for look. + </p> + <p> + “Abandoned ways?” screamed the countess. “Is't you that speak of abandoned + ways, ye shameless baggage? Faith, ye may be some judge of them. Ye fooled + him into running off with you. 'Twas that began all this. Just as with + your airs and simpers, and prettily-played innocences you fooled this + other, here, into being your champion.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you insult me!” Hortensia was on her feet, eyes flashing, cheeks + aflame. + </p> + <p> + “I am witness to that,” said Lord Ostermore, coming in through the + side-entrance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was the only one who had seen him approach. The earl's face + that had wont to be so florid, was now pale and careworn, and he seemed to + have lost flesh during the past month. He turned to her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Out on you!” he said testily, “to chide the poor child so!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” sneered her ladyship, eyes raised to heaven to invoke its + testimony to this absurdity. “Poor child.” + </p> + <p> + “Let there be an end to it, madam,” he said with attempted sternness. “It + is unjust and unreasonable in you.” + </p> + <p> + “If it were that—which it is not—it would be but following the + example that you set me. What are you but unreasonable and unjust—to + treat your son as you are treating him?” + </p> + <p> + His lordship crimsoned. On the subject of his son he could be angry in + earnest, even with her ladyship, as already we have seen. + </p> + <p> + “I have no son,” he declared, “there is a lewd, drunken, bullying + profligate who bears my name, and who will be Lord Ostermore some day. I + can't strip him of that. But I'll strip him of all else that's mine, God + helping me. I beg, my lady, that you'll let me hear no more of this, I beg + it. Lord Rotherby leaves my house to-day—now that Mr. Caryll is + restored to health. Indeed, he has stayed longer than was necessary. He + leaves to-day. He has my orders, and my servants have orders to see that + he obeys them. I do not wish to see him again—never. Let him go, and + let him be thankful—and be your ladyship thankful, too, since it + seems you must have a kindness for him in spite of all he has done to + disgrace and discredit us—that he goes not by way of Holborn Hill + and Tyburn.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, very white from suppressed fury. “I do believe you had + been glad had it been so.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he answered, “I had been sorry for Mr. Caryll's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “And for his own?” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a father?” she wondered contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “To my eternal shame, ma'am!” he flung back at her. He seemed, indeed, a + changed man in more than body since Mr. Caryll's duel with Lord Rotherby. + “No more, ma'am—no more!” he cried, seeming suddenly to remember the + presence of Mr. Caryll, who sat languidly drawing figures on the ground + with the ferrule of his cane. He turned to ask the convalescent how he + did. Her ladyship rose to withdraw, and at that moment Leduc made his + appearance with a salver, on which was a bowl of soup, a flask of Hock, + and a letter. Setting this down in such a manner that the letter was + immediately under his master's eyes, he further proceeded to draw Mr. + Caryll's attention to it. It was addressed in Sir Richard Everard's hand. + Mr. Caryll took it, and slipped it into his pocket. Her ladyship's + eyebrows went up. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not read your letter, Mr. Caryll?” she invited him, with an + amazingly sudden change to amiability. + </p> + <p> + “It will keep, ma'am, to while away an hour that is less pleasantly + engaged.” And he took the napkin Leduc was proffering. + </p> + <p> + “You pay your correspondent a poor compliment,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “My correspondent is not one to look for them or need them,” he answered + lightly, and dipped his spoon in the broth. + </p> + <p> + “Is she not?” quoth her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll laughed. “So feminine!” said he. “Ha, ha! So very feminine—to + assume the sex so readily.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis an easy assumption when the superscription is writ in a woman's + hand.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, the picture of amiability, smiled between spoonfuls. “Your + ladyship's eyes preserve not only their beauty but a keenness beyond + belief.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you have seen it from that distance, Sylvia?” inquired his + practical lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Then again,” said her ladyship, ignoring both remarks, “there is the + assiduity of this fair writer since Mr. Caryll has been in case to receive + letters. Five billets in six days! Deny it if you can, Mr. Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + Her playfulness, so ill-assumed, sat more awkwardly upon her than her + usual and more overt malice towards him. + </p> + <p> + “To what end should I deny it?” he replied, and added in his most + ingratiating manner another of his two-edged compliments. “Your ladyship + is the model chatelaine. No happening in your household can escape your + knowledge. His lordship is greatly to be envied.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, you see,” she cried, appealing to her husband, and even to + Hortensia, who sat apart, scarce heeding this trivial matter of which so + much was being made, “you see that he evades the point, avoids a direct + answer to the question that is raised.” + </p> + <p> + “Since your ladyship perceives it, it were more merciful to spare my + invention the labor of fashioning further subterfuges. I am a sick man + still, and my wits are far from brisk.” He took up the glass of wine Leduc + had poured for him. + </p> + <p> + The countess looked at him again through narrowing eyelids, the + playfulness all vanished. “You do yourself injustice, sir, as I am a + woman. Your wits want nothing more in briskness.” She rose, and looked + down upon him engrossed in his broth. “For a dissembler, sir,” she + pronounced upon him acidly, “I think it would be difficult to meet your + match.” + </p> + <p> + He dropped his spoon into the bowl with a clatter. He looked up, the very + picture of amazement and consternation. + </p> + <p> + “A dissembler, I?” quoth he in earnest protest; then laughed and quoted, + adapting, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts + Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face + Should discontent sit heavy at my heart.” + </pre> + <p> + She looked him over, pursing her lips. “I've often thought you might have + been a player,” said she contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “I'faith,” he laughed, “I'd sooner play than toil.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; but you make a toil of play, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Compassionate me, ma'am,” he implored in the best of humors. “I am but a + sick man. Your ladyship's too keen for me.” + </p> + <p> + She moved across to the exit without answering him. “Come, child,” she + said to Hortensia. “We are tiring Mr. Caryll, I fear. Let us leave him to + his letter, ere it sets his pocket afire.” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia rose. Loath though she might be to depart, there was no reason + she could urge for lingering. + </p> + <p> + “Is not your lordship coming?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is,” her ladyship commanded. “I need to speak with you yet + concerning Rotherby,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Hem!” His lordship coughed. Plainly he was not at his ease. “I will + follow soon. Do not stay for me. I have a word to say to Mr. Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it not keep? What can you have to say to him that is so pressing?” + </p> + <p> + “But a word—no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, we'll stay for you,” said her ladyship, and threw him into + confusion, hopeless dissembler that he was. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay! I beg that you will not.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship's brows went up; her eyes narrowed again, and a frown came + between them. “You are mighty mysterious,” said she, looking from one to + the other of the men, and bethinking her that it was not the first time + she had found them so; bethinking her, too—jumping, woman-like, to + rash conclusions—that in this mystery that linked them might lie the + true secret of her husband's aversion to his son and of his oath a month + ago to see that same son hang if Mr. Caryll succumbed to the wound he had + taken. With some women, to suspect a thing is to believe that thing. Her + ladyship was of these. She set too high value upon her acumen, upon the + keenness of her instincts. + </p> + <p> + And if aught were needed to cement her present suspicions, Mr. Caryll + himself afforded that cement, by seeming to betray the same eagerness to + be alone with his lordship that his lordship was betraying to be alone + with him; though, in truth, he no more than desired to lend assistance to + the earl out of curiosity to learn what it was his lordship might have to + say. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said he, “if you could give his lordship leave, ma'am, for a few + moments, I should myself be glad on't.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Hortensia,” said her ladyship shortly, and swept out, Mistress + Winthrop following. + </p> + <p> + In silence they crossed the lawn together. Once only ere they reached the + house, her ladyship looked back. “I would I knew what they are plotting,” + she said through her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Plotting?” echoed Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “Ay—plotting, simpleton. I said plotting. I mind me 'tis not the + first time I have seen them so mysterious together. It began on the day + that first Mr. Caryll set foot at Stretton House. There's a deal of + mystery about that man—too much for honesty. And then these letters + touching which he is so close—one a day—and his French lackey + always at hand to pounce upon them the moment they arrive. I wonder what's + at bottom on't! I wonder! And I'd give these ears to know,” she snapped in + conclusion as they went indoors. + </p> + <p> + In the arbor, meanwhile, his lordship had taken the rustic seat her + ladyship had vacated. He sat down heavily, like a man who is weary in body + and in mind, like a man who is bearing a load too heavy for his shoulders. + Mr. Caryll, watching him, observed all this. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of Hock?” he suggested, waving his hand towards the flask. “Let + me play host to you out of the contents of your own cellar.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship's eye brightened at the suggestion, which confirmed the + impression Mr. Caryll had formed that all was far from well with his + lordship. Leduc brimmed a glass, and handed it to my lord, who emptied it + at a draught. Mr. Caryll waved an impatient hand. “Away with you, Leduc. + Go watch the goldfish in the pond. I'll call you if I need you.” + </p> + <p> + After Leduc had departed a silence fell between them, and endured some + moments. His lordship was leaning forward, elbows on knees, his face in + shadow. At length he sat back, and looked at his companion across the + little intervening space. + </p> + <p> + “I have hesitated to speak to you before, Mr. Caryll, upon the matter that + you know of, lest your recovery should not be so far advanced that you + might bear the strain and fatigue of conversing upon serious topics. I + trust that that cause is now so far removed that I may put aside my + scruples.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly—I am glad to say—thanks to the great care you have + had of me here at Stretton House.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no debt between us on that score,” answered his lordship + shortly, brusquely almost. “Well, then—” He checked, and looked + about him. “We might be approached without hearing any one,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head. “I am not wont to neglect such + details,” he observed. “The eyes of Argus were not so vigilant as my + Leduc's; and he understands that we are private. He will give us warning + should any attempt to approach. Be assured of that, and believe, + therefore, that we are more snug here than we should be even in your + lordship's closet.” + </p> + <p> + “That being so, sir—hem! You are receiving letters daily. Do they + concern the business of King James?” + </p> + <p> + “In a measure; or, rather, they are from one concerned in it.” + </p> + <p> + Ostermore's eyes were on the ground again. There fell a pause, Mr. Caryll + frowning slightly and full of curiosity as to what might be coming. + </p> + <p> + “How soon, think you,” asked his lordship presently, “you will be in case + to travel?” + </p> + <p> + “In a week, I hope,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Good.” The earl nodded thoughtfully. “That may be in time. I pray it may + be. 'Tis now the best that we can do. You'll bear a letter for me to the + king?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll passed a hand across his chin, his face very grave. “Your + answer to the letter that I brought you?” + </p> + <p> + “My answer. My acceptance of his majesty's proposals.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” Mr. Caryll seemed to be breathing hard. + </p> + <p> + “Your letters, sir—the letters that you have been receiving will + have told you, perhaps, something of how his majesty's affairs are + speeding here?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little; and from that little I fear that they speed none too well. I + would counsel your lordship,” he continued slowly—he was thinking as + he went—“to wait a while before you burn your boats. From what I + gather, matters are in the air just now.” + </p> + <p> + The earl made a gesture, brusque and impatient. “Your information is very + scant, then,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked askance at him. + </p> + <p> + “Pho, sir! While you have been abed, I have been up and doing; up and + doing. Matters are being pushed forward rapidly. I have seen Atterbury. He + knows my mind. There lately came an agent from the king, it seems, to + enjoin the bishop to abandon this conspiracy, telling him that the time + was not yet ripe. Atterbury scorns to act upon that order. He will work in + the king's interests against the king's own commands even.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, 'tis possible he may work to his own undoing,” said Mr. Caryll, to + whom this was, after all, no news. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay; you have been sick; you do not know how things have sped in + this past month. Atterbury holds, and he is right, I dare swear—he + holds that never will there be such another opportunity. The finances of + the country are still in chaos, in spite of all Walpole's efforts and fine + promises. The South Sea bubble has sapped the confidence in the government + of all men of weight. The very Whigs themselves are shaken. 'Tis to King + James, England begins to look for salvation from this topsy-turveydom. The + tide runs strongly in our favor. Strongly, sir! If we stay for the ebb, we + may stay for good; for there may never be another flow within our + lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship is grown strangely hot upon this question,” said Caryll, + very full of wonder. + </p> + <p> + As he understood Ostermore, the earl was scarcely the sentimentalist to + give way to such a passion of loyalty for a weaker side. Yet his lordship + had spoken, not with the cold calm of the practical man who seeks + advantage, but with all the fervor of the enthusiast. + </p> + <p> + “Such is my interest,” answered his lordship. “Even as the fortunes of the + country are beggared by the South Sea Company, so are my own; even as the + country must look to King James for its salvation, so must I. At best 'tis + but a forlorn hope, I confess; yet 'tis the only hope I see.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at him, smiled to himself, and nodded. So! All this fire + and enthusiasm was about the mending of his personal fortunes—the + grubbing of riches for himself. Well, well! It was good matter wasted on a + paltry cause. But it sorted excellently with what Mr. Caryll knew of the + nature of this father of his. It never could transcend the practical; + there was no imagination to carry it beyond those narrow sordid confines, + and Mr. Caryll had been a fool to have supposed that any other springs + were pushing here. Egotism, egotism, egotism! Its name, he thought, was + surely Ostermore. And again, as once before, under the like circumstances, + he found more pity than scorn awaking in his heart. The whole wasted, + sterile life that lay behind this man; the unhappy, loveless home that + stood about him now in his declining years were the fruits he had garnered + from that consuming love of self with which the gods had cursed him. + </p> + <p> + The only ray to illumine the black desert of Ostermore's existence was the + affection of his ward, Hortensia Winthrop, because in that one instance he + had sunk his egotism a little, sparing a crumb of pity—for once in + his life—for the child's orphanhood. Had Ostermore been other than + the man he was, his existence must have proved a burden beyond his + strength. It was so barren of good deeds, so sterile of affection. Yet + encrusted as he was in that egotism of his—like the limpet in its + shell—my lord perceived nothing of this, suffered nothing of it, + understanding nothing. He was all-sufficient to himself. Giving nothing, + he looked for nothing, and sought his happiness—without knowing the + quest vain—in what he had. The fear of losing this had now in his + declining years cast, at length, a shadow upon his existence. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at him almost sorrowfully. Then he put by his thoughts, + and broke the silence. “All this I had understood when first I sought you + out,” said he. “Yet your lordship did not seem to realize it quite so + keenly. Is it that Atterbury and his friends—?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” Ostermore broke in. “Look'ee! I will be frank—quite frank + and open with you, Mr. Caryll. Things were bad when first you came to me. + Yet not so bad that I was driven to a choice of evils. I had lost heavily. + But enough remained to bear me through my time, though Rotherby might have + found little enough left after I had gone. While that was so, I hesitated + to take a risk. I am an old man. It had been different had I been young + with ambitions that craved satisfying. I am an old man; and I desired + peace and my comforts. Deeming these assured, I paused ere I risked their + loss against the stake which in King James's name you set upon the board. + But it happens to-day that these are assured no longer,” he ended, his + voice breaking almost, his eyes haggard. “They are assured no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” inquired Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I am confronted by the danger of beggary, ruin, shame, and + the sponging-house, at best.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was stirred out of his calm. “My lord!” he cried. “How is this + possible? What can have come to pass?” + </p> + <p> + The earl was silent for a long while. It was as if he pondered how he + should answer, or whether he should answer at all. At last, in a low + voice, a faint tinge reddening his face, his eyes averted, he explained. + It shamed him so to do, yet must he satisfy that craving of weak minds to + unburden, to seek relief in confession. “Mine is the case of Craggs, the + secretary of state,” he said. “And Craggs, you'll remember, shot himself.” + </p> + <p> + “My God,” said Mr. Caryll, and opened wide his eyes. “Did you-?” He + paused, not knowing what euphemism to supply for the thing his lordship + must have done. + </p> + <p> + His lordship looked up, sneering almost in self-derision. “I did,” he + answered. “To tell you all—I accepted twenty thousand pounds' worth + of South Sea stock when the company was first formed, for which I did not + pay other than by lending the scheme the support of my name at a time when + such support was needed. I was of the ministry, then, you will remember.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll considered him again, and wondered a moment at the confession, + till he understood by intuition that the matter and its consequences were + so deeply preying upon the man's mind that he could not refrain from + giving vent to his fears. + </p> + <p> + “And now you know,” his lordship added, “why my hopes are all in King + James. Ruin stares me in the face. Ruin and shame. This forlorn Stuart + hope is the only hope remaining me. Therefore, am I eager to embrace it. I + have made all plain to you. You should understand now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet not quite all. You did this thing. But the inspection of the + company's books is past. The danger of discovery, at least, is averted. Or + is it that your conscience compels you to make restitution?” + </p> + <p> + His lordship stared and gaped. “Do you suppose me mad?” he inquired, quite + seriously. “Pho! Others were overlooked at the time. We did not all go the + way of Craggs and Aislabie and their fellow-sufferers. Stanhope was + assailed afterward, though he was innocent. That filthy fellow, the Duke + of Wharton, from being an empty fop turned himself on a sudden into a + Crown attorney to prosecute the peculators. It was an easy road to fame + for him, and the fool had a gift of eloquence. Stanhope's death is on his + conscience—or would be if he had one. That was six months ago. When + he discovered his error in the case of Stanhope and saw the fatal + consequences it had, he ceased his dirty lawyer's work. But he had good + grounds upon which to suspect others as highly placed as Stanhope, and had + he followed his suspicions he might have turned them into certainties and + discovered evidence. As it was, he let the matter lie, content with the + execution he had done, and the esteem into which he had so suddenly + hoisted himself—the damned profligate!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll let pass, as typical, the ludicrous want of logic in + Ostermore's strictures of his Grace of Wharton, and the application by him + to the duke of opprobrious terms that were no whit less applicable to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Then, that being so, what cause for these alarms some six months later?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” answered his lordship in a sudden burst of passion that brought + him to his feet, empurpled his face and swelled the veins of his forehead, + “because I am cursed with the filthiest fellow in England for my son.” + </p> + <p> + He said it with the air of one who throws a flood of light where darkness + has been hitherto, who supplies the key that must resolve at a turn a + whole situation. But Mr. Caryll blinked foolishly. + </p> + <p> + “My wits are very dull, I fear,” said he. “I still cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll make it all clear to you,” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + Leduc appeared at the arbor entrance. + </p> + <p> + “What now?” asked Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship is approaching, sir,” answered Leduc the vigilant. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. LADY OSTERMORE + </h2> + <p> + Lord Ostermore and Mr. Caryll looked across the lawn towards the house, + but failed to see any sign of her ladyship's approach. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll raised questioning eyes to his servant's stolid face, and in + that moment caught the faintest rustle of a gown behind the arbor. He + half-turned to my lord, and nodded slightly in the direction of the sound, + a smile twisting his lips. With a gesture he dismissed Leduc, who returned + to the neighborhood of the pond. + </p> + <p> + His lordship frowned, angered by the interruption. Then: “If your ladyship + will come inside,” said he, “you will hear better and with greater + comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to speak of dignity,” said Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + The stiff gown rustled again, this time without stealth. The countess + appeared, no whit abashed. Mr. Caryll rose politely. + </p> + <p> + “You sit with spies to guard your approaches,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “As a precaution against spies,” was his lordship's curt answer. + </p> + <p> + She measured him with a cool eye. “What is't ye hide?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “My shame,” he answered readily. Then after a moment's pause, he rose and + offered her his seat. “Since you have thrust yourself in where you were + not bidden, you may hear and welcome, ma'am,” said he. “It may help you to + understand what you term my injustice to my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Are these matters wherewith to importune a stranger—a guest?” + </p> + <p> + “I am proposing to say in your presence what I was about to say in your + absence,” said he, without answering her question. “Be seated, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + She sniffed, closed her fan with a clatter, and sat down. Mr. Caryll + resumed his long chair, and his lordship took the stool. + </p> + <p> + “I am told,” the latter resumed presently, recapitulating in part for her + ladyship's better understanding, “that his Grace of Wharton is intending + to reopen the South Sea scandal, as soon as he can find evidence that I + was one of those who profited by the company's charter.” + </p> + <p> + “Profited?” she echoed, between scorn and bitter amusement. “Profited, did + ye say? I think your dotage is surely upon you—you that have sunk + nigh all your fortune and all that you had with me in this thieving + venture—d'ye talk of profits?” + </p> + <p> + “At the commencement I did profit, as did many others. Had I been content + with my gains, had I been less of a trusting fool, it had been well. I was + dazzled, maybe, by the glare of so much gold. I needed more; and so I lost + all. That is evil enough. But there is worse. I may be called upon to make + restitution of what I had from the company without paying for it—I + may give all that's left me and barely cover the amount, and I may starve + and be damned thereafter.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship's face was ghastly. Horror stared from her pale eyes. She had + known, from the beginning, of that twenty thousand pounds' worth of stock, + and she had had—with his lordship—her anxious moments when the + disclosures were being made six months ago that had brought the Craggses, + Aislabie and a half-dozen others to shame and ruin. + </p> + <p> + His lordship looked at her a moment. “And if this shipwreck comes, as it + now threatens,” he continued, “it is my son I shall have to thank for't.” + </p> + <p> + She found voice to ask: “How so?” courage to put the question scornfully. + “Is it not rather Rotherby you have to thank that the disclosures did not + come six months ago? What was it saved you but the friendship his Grace of + Wharton had for Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” stormed his lordship, “did he not see to't that he preserved + that friendship? It but needed a behavior of as much decency and honor as + Wharton exacts in his associates—and the Lord knows how much that + is!” he sneered. “As it is, he has gone even lower than that abandoned + scourer; so low that even this rakehell duke must become his enemy for his + own credit's sake. He attempts mock-marriages with ladies of quality; and + he attempts murder by stabbing through the back a gentleman who has spared + his worthless life. Not even the president of the Hell Fire Club can + countenance these things, strong stomach though he have for villainy. It + is something to have contrived to come so low that even his Grace of + Wharton must turn upon him, and swear his ruin. And so that he may ruin + him, his grace is determined to ruin me. Now you understand, madam—and + you, Mr. Caryll.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll understood. He understood even more than his lordship meant him + to understand; more than his lordship understood, himself. So, too, did + her ladyship, if we may judge from the reply she made him. + </p> + <p> + “You fool,” she railed. “You vain, blind, selfish fool! To blame Rotherby + for this. Rather should Rotherby, blame you that by your damned dishonesty + have set a weapon against him in his enemy's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” he roared, empurpling, and coming heavily to his feet. “Do you + know who I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—and what you are, which is something you will never know. God! + Was there ever so self-centered a fool? Compassionate me, Heaven!” She + rose, too, and turned to Mr. Caryll. “You, sir,” she said to him, “you + have been dragged into this, I know not why.” + </p> + <p> + She broke off suddenly, looking at him, her eyes a pair of gimlets now for + penetration. “Why have you been dragged into it?” she demanded. “What is + here? I demand to know. What help does my lord expect from you that he + tells you this? Does he—” She paused an instant, a cunning smile + breaking over her wrinkled, painted face. “Does he propose to sell himself + to the king over the water, and are you a secret agent come to do the + buying? Is that the answer to this riddle?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, imperturbable outwardly, but very ill at ease within, smiled + and waved the delicate hand that appeared through the heavy ruffle at his + wrist. “Madam, indeed—ah—your ladyship goes very fast. You + leap so at conclusions for which no grounds can exist. His lordship is so + overwrought—as well he may be, alas!—that he cares not before + whom he speaks. Is it not plainly so?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled very sourly. “You are a very master of evasion, sir. But your + evasion gives me the answer that I lack—that and his lordship's + face. I drew my bow at a venture; yet look, sir, and tell me, has my + quarrel missed its mark?” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, the sudden fear and consternation written on my lord's face + was so plain that all might read it. He was—as Mr. Caryll had + remarked on the first occasion that they met—the worst dissembler + that ever set hand to a conspiracy. He betrayed himself at every step, if + not positively, by incautious words, why then by the utter lack of control + he had upon his countenance. + </p> + <p> + He made now a wild attempt to bluster. “Lies! Lies!” he protested. “Your + ladyship's a-dreaming. Should I be making bad worse by plotting at my time + of life? Should I? What can King James avail me, indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis what I will ask Rotherby to help me to discover,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Rotherby?” he cried. “Would you tell that villain what you suspect? Would + you arm him with another weapon for my undoing?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said she. “You admit so much, then?” And she laughed disdainfully. + Then with a sudden sternness, a sudden nobility almost in the motherhood + which she put forward—“Rotherby is my son,” she said, “and I'll not + have my son the victim of your follies as well as of your injustice. We + may curb the one and the other yet, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + And she swept out, fan going briskly in one hand, her long ebony cane + swinging as briskly in the other. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” groaned Ostermore, and sat down heavily. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll helped himself copiously to snuff. “I think,” said he, his + voice so cool that it had an almost soothing influence, “I think your + lordship has now another reason why you should go no further in this + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I do not—what other hopes have I? Damn me! I'm a ruined man + either way.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. “Assuming even that you are correctly + informed, and that his Grace of Wharton is determined to move against you, + it is not to be depended that he will succeed in collecting such evidence + as he must need. At this date much of the evidence that may once have been + available will have been dissipated. You are rash to despair so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “There is that,” his lordship admitted thoughtfully, a little hopefully, + even; “there is that.” And with the resilience of his nature—of men + who form opinions on slight grounds, and, therefore, are ready to change + them upon grounds as slight—“I' faith! I may have been running to + meet my trouble. 'Tis but a rumor, after all, that Wharton is for + mischief, and—as you say—as like as not there'll be no + evidence by now. There was little enough at the time. + </p> + <p> + “Still, I'll make doubly sure. My letter to King James can do no harm. + We'll talk of it again, when you are in case to travel.” + </p> + <p> + It passed through Mr. Caryll's mind at the moment that Lady Ostermore and + her son might between them brew such mischief as might seriously hinder + him from travelling, and he was very near the truth. For already her + ladyship was closeted with Rotherby in her boudoir. + </p> + <p> + The viscount was dressed for travelling, intent upon withdrawing to the + country, for he was well-informed already of the feeling of the town + concerning him, and had no mind to brave the slights and cold-shoulderings + that would await him did he penetrate to any of the haunts of people of + quality and fashion. He stood before his mother now, a tall, lank figure, + his black face very gloomy, his sensual lips thrust forward in a sullen + pout. She, in a gilt arm-chair before her toilet-table, was telling him + the story of what had passed, his father's fear of ruin and disgrace. He + swore between his teeth when he heard that the danger threatened from the + Duke of Wharton. + </p> + <p> + “And your father's destitution means our destitution—yours and mine; + for his gambling schemes have consumed my portion long since.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and shrugged. “I marvel I should concern myself,” said he. + “What can it avail me to save the rags that are left him of his fortune? + He's sworn I shall never touch a penny that he may die possessed of.” + </p> + <p> + “But there's the entail,” she reminded him. “If restitution is demanded, + the Crown will not respect it. 'Twill be another sop to throw the whining + curs that were crippled by the bubble, and who threaten to disturb the + country if they are not appeased. If Wharton carries out this exposure, + we're beggars—utter beggars, that may ask an alms to quiet hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis Wharton's present hate of me,” said he thoughtfully, and swore. “The + damned puppy! He'd make a sacrifice of me upon the altar of + respectability, just as he made a sacrifice of the South Sea bubblers. + What else was the stinking rakehell seeking but to put himself right again + in the eyes of a town that was nauseated with him and his excesses? The + self-seeking toad that makes virtue his profession—the virtue of + others—and profligacy his recreation!” He smote fist into palm. + “There's a way to silence him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” she looked up quickly, hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “A foot or so of steel,” Rotherby explained, and struck the hilt of his + sword. “I might pick a quarrel with him. 'Twould not be difficult. Come + upon him unawares, say, and strike him. That should force a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Tusk, fool! He's all empanoplied in virtue where you are concerned. He'd + use the matter of your affair with Caryll as a reason not to meet you, + whatever you might do, and he'd set his grooms to punish any indignity you + might put upon him.” + </p> + <p> + “He durst not.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! The town would all approve him in it since your running Caryll + through the back. What a fool you were, Charles.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away, hanging his head, full conscious, and with no little + bitterness, of how great had been his folly. + </p> + <p> + “Salvation may lie for you in the same source that has brought you to the + present pass—this man Caryll,” said the countess presently. “I + suspect him more than ever of being a Jacobite agent.” + </p> + <p> + “I know him to be such.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it?” + </p> + <p> + “All but; and Green is assured of it, too.” He proceeded to tell her what + he knew. “Ever since Green met Caryll at Maidstone has he suspected him, + yet but that I kept him to the task he would have abandoned it. He's in my + pay now as much as in Lord Carteret's, and if he can run Caryll to earth + he receives his wages from both sides.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well? What has he discovered? Anything?” + </p> + <p> + “A little. This Caryll frequented regularly the house of one Everard, who + came to town a week after Caryll's own arrival. This Everard—Sir + Richard Everard is known to be a Jacobite. He is the Pretender's Paris + agent. They would have laid him by the heels before, but that by + precipitancy they feared to ruin their chances of discovering the business + that may have brought him over. They are giving him rope at present. + Meanwhile, by my cursed folly, Caryll's visits to him were interrupted. + But there has been correspondence between them.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said her ladyship. “A letter was delivered him just now. I tried + to smoke him concerning it. But he's too astute.” + </p> + <p> + “Astute or not,” replied her son, “once he leaves Stretton House it should + not be long ere he betrays himself and gives us cause to lay him by the + heels. But how will that help us?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask how? Why, if there is a plot, and we can discover it, we might + make terms with the secretary of state to avoid any disclosure Wharton may + intend concerning the South Sea matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would be to discover my father for a Jacobite! What advantage + should we derive from that? 'Twould be as bad as t'other matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me die, but ye're a slow-witted clod, Charles. D'ye think we can find + no way to disclose the plot and Mr. Caryll—and Everard, too, if you + choose—without including your father? My lord is timidly cautious, + and you may depend he'll not have put himself in their hands to any extent + just yet.” + </p> + <p> + The viscount paced the chamber slowly in long strides, head bent in + thought, hands clasped behind him. “It will need consideration,” said he. + “But it may serve, and I can count upon Green. He is satisfied that Caryll + befooled him at Maidstone, and that he kept the papers he carried despite + the thoroughness of Green's investigations. Moreover, he was handled with + some roughness by Caryll. For that and the other matter he asks redress—thirsts + for it. He's a very willing tool, as I have found.” + </p> + <p> + “Then see that you use him adroitly to your work,” said his mother. “Best + not leave town at present, Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” said he. “I'll find me a lodging somewhere at hand, since my + fond sire is determined I shall pollute no longer the sacrosanctity of his + dwelling. Perhaps when I have pulled him out of this quicksand, he will + deign to mitigate the bitterness of his feelings for me. Though, faith, I + find life endurable without the affection he should have consecrated to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” she said, looking up at him. “You are his son; too much his son, I + fear. 'Tis why he dislikes you so intensely. He sees in you the faults to + which he is blind in himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet mother!” said his lordship, bowing. + </p> + <p> + She scowled at him. She could deal in irony herself—and loved to—but + she detested to have it dealt to her. + </p> + <p> + He bowed again; gained the door, and would have passed out but that she + detained him. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a pity, on some scores, to dispose so utterly of this Caryll,” she + said. “The pestilent coxcomb has his uses, and his uses, like adversity's, + are sweet.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to question her with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He might have made a husband for Hortensia, and rid me of the company of + that white-faced changeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Might he so?” quoth the viscount, face and voice, expressionless. + </p> + <p> + “They were made for each other,” her ladyship opined. + </p> + <p> + “Were they so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—were they. And faith they've discovered it. I would you had seen + the turtles in the arbor an hour ago, when I surprised them.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship attempted a smile, but achieved nothing more than a wry face + and a change of color. His mother's eyes, observing these signs, grew on a + sudden startled. + </p> + <p> + “Why, fool,” quoth she, “do you hold there still? Art not yet cured of + that folly?” + </p> + <p> + “What folly, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “This folly that already has cost you so much. 'Sdeath! As I'm a woman, if + you'd so much feeling for the girl, I marvel ye did not marry her honestly + and in earnest when the chance was yours.” + </p> + <p> + The pallor of his face increased. He clenched his hands. “I marvel myself + that I did not,” he answered passionately—and went out, slamming the + door after him, and leaving her ladyship agape and angry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. LOVE AND RAGE + </h2> + <p> + Lord Rotherby, descending from that interview with his mother, espied + Hortensia crossing the hall below. Forgetting his dignity, he quickened + his movements, and took the remainder of the stairs two at a stride. But, + then, his lordship was excited and angry, and considerations of dignity + did not obtain with him at the time. For that matter, they seldom did. + </p> + <p> + “Hortensia! Hortensia!” he called to her, and at his call she paused. + </p> + <p> + Not once during the month that was past—and during which he had, for + the most part, kept his room, to all intents a prisoner—had she + exchanged so much as a word with him. Thus, not seeing him, she had been + able, to an extent, to exclude him from her thoughts, which, naturally + enough, were reluctant to entertain him for their guest. + </p> + <p> + Her calm, as she paused now in acquiescence to his bidding, was such that + it almost surprised herself. She had loved him once—or thought so, a + little month ago—and at a single blow he had slain that love. Now + love so slain has a trick of resurrecting in the guise of hate; and so, + she had thought at first had been the case with her. But this moment + proved to her now that her love was dead, indeed, since of her erstwhile + affection not even a recoil to hate remained. Dislike she may have felt; + but it was that cold dislike that breeds a deadly indifference, and seeks + no active expression, asking no more than the avoidance of its object. + </p> + <p> + Her calm, reflected in her face of a beauty almost spiritual, in every + steady line of her slight, graceful figure, gave him pause a moment, and + his hot glance fell abashed before the chill indifference that met him + from those brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + A man of deeper sensibilities, of keener perceptions, would have bowed and + gone his way. But then a man of deeper sensibilities would never have + sought this interview that the viscount was now seeking. Therefore, it was + but natural that he should recover swiftly from his momentary halt, and + step aside to throw open the door of a little room on the right of the + hall. Bowing slightly, he invited her to enter. + </p> + <p> + “Grant me a moment ere I go, Hortensia,” he said, between command and + exhortation. + </p> + <p> + She stood cogitating him an instant, with no outward sign of what might be + passing in her mind; then she slightly inclined her head, and went forward + as he bade her. + </p> + <p> + It was a sunny room, gay with light color and dainty furnishings, having + long window-doors that opened to the garden. An Aubusson carpet of palest + green, with a festoon pattern of pink roses, covered two-thirds of the + blocked, polished floor. The empanelled walls were white, with here a gilt + mirror, flanked on either side by a girandole in ormolu. A spinet stood + open in mid-chamber, and upon it were sheets of music, a few books and a + bowl of emerald-green ware, charged now with roses, whose fragrance lay + heavy on the air. There were two or three small tables of very dainty, + fragile make, and the chairs were in delicately-tinted tapestry + illustrating the fables of La Fontaine. + </p> + <p> + It was an apartment looked upon by Hortensia as her own withdrawing-room, + set apart for her own use, and as that the household—her very + ladyship included—had ever recognized it. + </p> + <p> + His lordship closed the door with care. Hortensia took her seat upon the + long stool that stood at the spinet, her back to the instrument, and with + hands idle in her lap—the same cold reserve upon her countenance-she + awaited his communication. + </p> + <p> + He advanced until he was close beside her, and stood leaning an elbow on + the corner of the spinet, a long and not ungraceful figure, with the black + curls of his full-bottomed wig falling about his swarthy, big-featured + face. + </p> + <p> + “I have but my farewells to make, Hortensia,” said he. “I am leaving + Stretton House, to-day, at last.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said she, in a formal, level voice, “that things should have + fallen out so as to leave you free to go your ways.” + </p> + <p> + “You are glad,” he answered, frowning slightly, and leaning farther + towards her. “Ay, and why are you glad? Why? You are glad for Mr. Caryll's + sake. Do you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him quite calm and fearlessly. “I am glad for your own + sake, too.” + </p> + <p> + His dark brooding eyes looked deep into hers, which did not falter under + his insistent gaze. “Am I to believe you?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I do not wish your death.” + </p> + <p> + “Not my death—but my absence?” he sneered. “You wish for that, do + you not? You would prefer me gone? My room is better than my company just + now? 'Tis what you think, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not thought of it at all,” she answered him with a pitiless + frankness. + </p> + <p> + He laughed, soft and wickedly. “Is it so very hopeless, then? You have not + thought of it at all by which you mean that you have not thought of me at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Is't not best so? You have given me no cause to think of you to your + advantage. I am therefore kind to exclude you from my thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Kind?” he mocked her. “You think it kind to put me from your mind—I + who love you, Hortensia!” + </p> + <p> + She rose upon the instant, her cheeks warming faintly. “My lord,” said + she, “I think there is no more to be said between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but there is,” he cried. “A deal more yet.” And he left his place by + the spinet to come and stand immediately before her, barring her passage + to the door. “Not only to say farewell was it that I desired to speak with + you alone here.” His voice softened amazingly. “I want your pardon ere I + go. I want you to say that you forgive me the vile thing I would have + done, Hortensia.” Contrition quivered in his lowered voice. He bent a knee + to her, and held out his hand. “I will not rise until you speak my pardon, + child.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if that be all, I pardon you very readily,” she answered, still + betraying no emotion. + </p> + <p> + He frowned. “Too readily!” he cried. “Too readily for sincerity. I will + not take it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my lord, for a penitent, you are very difficult to please. I + pardon you with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sincere?” he cried, and sought to take her hands; but she whipped + them away and behind her. “You bear me no ill-will?” + </p> + <p> + She considered him now with a calm, critical gaze, before which he was + forced to lower his bold eyes. “Why should I bear you an ill-will?” she + asked him. + </p> + <p> + “For the thing I did—the thing I sought to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder do you know all that you did?” she asked him, musingly. “Shall I + tell you, my lord? You cured me of a folly. I had been blind, and you made + me see. I had foolishly thought to escape one evil, and you made me + realize that I was rushing into a worse. You saved me from myself. You may + have made me suffer then; but it was a healing hurt you dealt me. And + should I bear you an ill-will for that?” + </p> + <p> + He had risen from his knee. He stood apart, pondering her from under bent + brows with eyes that were full of angry fire. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think,” she ended, “that there needs more between us. I have + understood you, sir, since that day at Maidstone—I think we were + strangers until then; and perhaps now you may begin to understand me. Fare + you well, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + She made shift to go, but he barred her passage now in earnest, his hands + clenched beside him in witness of the violence he did himself to keep them + there. “Not yet,” he said, in a deep, concentrated voice. “Not yet. I did + you a wrong, I know. And what you say—cruel as it is—is no + more than I deserve. But I desire to make amends. I love you, Hortensia, + and desire to make amends.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled wistfully. “'Tis overlate to talk of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he demanded fiercely, and caught her arms, holding her there before + him. “Why is it overlate?” + </p> + <p> + “Suffer me to go,” she commanded, rather than begged, and made to free + herself of his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to be my wife, Hortensia—my wedded wife.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and laughed; a cold laugh, disdainful, yet not bitter. + “You wanted that before, my lord; yet you neglected the opportunity my + folly gave you. I thank you—you, after God—for that same + neglect.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do not say that!” he begged, a very suppliant again. “Do not say + that! Child, I love you. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Who could fail to understand, after the abundant proof you have afforded + me of your sincerity and your devotion?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you rally me?” he demanded, letting through a flash of the anger that + was mounting in him. “Am I so poor a thing that you whet your little wit + upon me?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, you are paining me. What can you look to gain by this? Suffer me + to go.” + </p> + <p> + A moment yet he stood, holding her wrists and looking down into her eyes + with a mixture of pleading and ferocity in his. Then he made a sound in + his throat, and caught her bodily to him; his arms, laced about her, held + her bound and crushed against him. His dark, flushed face hovered above + her own. + </p> + <p> + Fear took her at last. It mounted and grew to horror. “Let me go, my + lord,” she besought him, her voice trembling. “Oh, let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Hortensia! I need you!” he cried, as if wrung by pain, and + then hot upon her brow and cheeks and lips his kisses fell, and shame + turned her to fire from head to foot as she fought helplessly within his + crushing grasp. + </p> + <p> + “You dog!” she panted, and writhing harder, wrenched free a hand and arm. + Blindly she beat upwards into that evil satyr's face. “You beast! You + toad! You coward!” + </p> + <p> + They fell apart, each panting; she leaning faint against the spinet, her + bosom galloping; he muttering oaths decent and other—for in the + upward thrusting of her little hand one of its fingers had prodded at an + eye, and the pain of it—which had caused him to relax his hold of + her—stripped what little veneer remained upon the man's true nature. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go?” she asked him furiously, outraged by the vileness of his + ravings. “Will you go, or must I summon help?” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at her, straightening his wig, which had become + disarranged in the struggle, and forcing himself to an outward calm. “So,” + he said. “You scorn me? You will not marry me? You realise the chance, eh? + And why? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is because I am blind to the honor of the alliance,” she + controlled herself to answer him. “Will you go?” + </p> + <p> + He did not move. “Yet you loved me once—” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a lie!” she blazed. “I thought I did—to my undying shame. No + more than that, my lord—as I've a soul to be saved.” + </p> + <p> + “You loved Me,” he insisted. “And you would love me still but for this + damned Caryll—this French coxcomb, who has crawled into your regard + like the slimy, creeping thing he is.” + </p> + <p> + “It sorts well with your ways, my lord, that you could say these things + behind his back. You are practiced at stabbing men behind.” + </p> + <p> + The gibe, with all the hurtful, stinging quality that only truth + possesses, struck his anger from him, leaving him limp and pale. Then he + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who he is—what he is?” he asked. “I will tell you. He's + a spy—a damned Jacobite spy, whom a word from me will hang.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes lashed him with her scorn. “I were a fool did I believe you,” was + her contemptuous answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him,” he said, and laughed. He turned and strode to the door. Paused + there, sardonic, looking back. “I shall be quits with you, ma'am. Quits! + I'll hang this pretty turtle of yours at Tyburn. Tell him so from me.” + </p> + <p> + He wrenched the door open, and went out on that, leaving her cold and sick + with dread. + </p> + <p> + Was it but an idle threat to terrorize her? Was it but that? Her impulse + was to seek Mr. Caryll upon the instant that she might ask him and allay + her fears. But what right had she? Upon what grounds could she set a + question upon so secret a matter? She conceived him raising his brows in + that supercilious way of his, and looking her over from head to toe as + though seeking a clue to the nature of this quaint thing that asked him + questions. She pictured his smile and the jest with which he would set + aside her inquiry. She imagined, indeed, just what she believed would + happen did she ask him; which was precisely what would not have happened. + Imagining thus, she held her peace, and nursed her secret dread. And on + the following day, his weakness so far overcome as to leave him no excuse + to linger at Stretton House, Mr. Caryll took his departure and returned to + his lodging in Old Palace Yard. + </p> + <p> + One more treasonable interview had he with Lord Ostermore in the library + ere he departed. His lordship it was who reopened again the question, to + repeat much of what he had said in the arbor on the previous day, and Mr. + Caryll replied with much the same arguments in favor of procrastination + that he had already employed. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, at least,” he begged, “until I have been abroad a day or two, and + felt for myself how the wind Is setting.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a prodigiously dangerous document,” he declared. “I scarce see the + need for so much detail.” + </p> + <p> + “How can it set but one way?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a question I shall be in better case to answer when I have had an + opportunity of judging. Meanwhile, be assured I shall not sail for France + without advising you. Time enough then to give me your letter should you + still be of the same mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” said the earl. “When all is said, the letter will be safer + here, meantime, than in your pocket.” And he tapped the secretaire. “But + see what I have writ his majesty, and tell me should I alter aught.” + </p> + <p> + He took out a drawer on the right—took it out bodily—then + introduced his hand into the opening, running it along the inner side of + the desk until, no doubt, he touched a spring; for suddenly a small trap + was opened. From this cavity he fished out two documents—one the + flimsy tissue on which King James' later was penned; the other on heavier + material Lord Ostermore's reply. He spread the latter before him, and + handed it to Mr. Caryll, who ran an eye over it. + </p> + <p> + It was indited with stupid, characteristic incaution; concealment was + never once resorted to; everywhere expressions of the frankest were + employed, and every line breathed the full measure of his lordship's + treason and betrays the existence of a plot. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll returned it. His countenance was grave. + </p> + <p> + “I desire his majesty to know how whole-heartedly I belong to him.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twere best destroyed, I think. You can write another when the time comes + to dispatch it.” + </p> + <p> + But Ostermore was never one to take sensible advice. “Pooh! 'Twill be safe + in here. 'Tis a secret known to none.” He dropped it, together with King + James' letter, back into the recess, snapped down the trap, and replaced + the drawer. Whereupon Mr. Caryll took his leave, promising to advise his + lordship of whatever he might glean, and so departed from Stretton House. + </p> + <p> + My Lord Rotherby, meanwhile, was very diligent in the business upon which + he was intent. He had received in his interview with Hortensia an added + spur to such action as might be scatheful to Mr. Caryll. His lordship was + lodged in Portugal Row, within a stone's throw of his father's house, and + there, on that same evening of his moving thither, he had Mr. Green to see + him, desiring news. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green had little to impart, but strong hope of much to be garnered + presently. His little eyes twinkling, his chubby face suffused in smiles, + as though it were an excellent jest to be hunting knowledge that should + hang a man, the spy assured Lord Rotherby that there was little doubt Mr. + Caryll could be implicated as soon as he was about again. + </p> + <p> + “And that's the reason—after your lordship's own express wishes—why + so far I have let Sir Richard Everard be. It may come to trouble for me + with my Lord Carteret should it be smoked that I have been silent on the + matters within my knowledge. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a plague on that!” said his lordship. “You'll be well paid for your + services when you've rendered them. And, meanwhile, I understand that not + another soul in London—that is, on the side of the government—is + aware of Sir Richard's presence in town. So where is your danger?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Mr. Green, plump hand caressing plumper chin. “Had it not + been so, I should have been forced to apply to the secretary for a warrant + before this.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll wait,” said his lordship, “and you'll act as I may direct + you. It will be to your credit in the end. Wait until Caryll has enmeshed + himself by frequent visits to Sir Richard's. Then get your warrant—when + I give the word—and execute it one fine night when Caryll happens to + be closeted with Everard. Whether we can get further evidence against him + or not, that circumstance of his being found with the Pretender's agent + should go some way towards hanging him. The rest we must supply.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green smiled seraphically. “Ecod! I'd give my ears to have the + slippery fellow safe. Codso! I would. He bubbled me at Maidstone, and I + limped a fortnight from the kick he gave me.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall do a little more kicking—with both feet,” said his + lordship with unction. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. MR. GREEN EXECUTES HIS WARRANT + </h2> + <p> + Five days later, Mr. Caryll—whose recovery had so far progressed + that he might now be said to be his own man again—came briskly up + from Charing Cross one evening at dusk, to the house at the corner of + Maiden Lane where Sir Richard Everard was lodged. He observed three or + four fellows lounging about the corner of Chandos street and Bedford + street, but it did not occur to him that from that point they could + command Sir Richard's door—nor that such could be their object—until, + as he swung sharply round the corner, he hurtled violently into a man who + was moving in the opposite direction without looking whither he was going. + The man stepped quickly aside with a murmured word of apology, to give Mr. + Caryll the wall that he might pass on. But Mr. Caryll paused. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Green!” said he very pleasantly. “How d'ye? Have ye been + searching folk of late?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green endeavored to dissemble his startled expression in a grin that + revealed his white teeth. “Ye can't forgive me that blunder, Mr. Caryll,” + said he. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled fondly upon him. “From your manner I take it that on + your side you practice a more Christian virtue. It is plain that you + forgive me the sequel.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green shrugged and spread his hands. “You were in the right, sir; you + were in the right,” he explained. “Those are the risks a man of my calling + must run. I must suffer for my blunders.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll continued to smile. But that the light was failing, the spy + might have observed a certain hardening in the lines of his mouth. “Here + is a very humble mood,” said he. “It is like the crouch before the spring. + In whom do you design to plant your claws?—yours and your friends + yonder.” And he pointed with his cane across the street towards the + loungers he had observed. + </p> + <p> + “My friends?” quoth Mr. Green, in a voice of disgust. “Nay, your honor! No + friends of mine, ecod! Indeed, no!” + </p> + <p> + “No? I am at fault, then. Yet they look as if they might be bumbailiffs. + 'Tis the kind ye herd with, is't not? Give you good-even, Mr. Green.” And + he went on, cool and unconcerned, and turned in through the narrow doorway + by the glover's shop to mount the stairs to Sir Richard's lodging. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green stood still to watch him go. Then he swore through his teeth, + and beckoned one of those whose acquaintance he had disclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis like him, ecod! to have gone in in spite of seeing me and you! He's + cool! Damned cool! But he'll be cooler yet, codso!” Then, briskly + questioning his satellite: “Is Sir Richard within, Jerry?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” answered Jerry—a rough, heavily-built tatterdemalion. “He's + been there these two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis our chance to nab 'em both, then-our last chance, maybe. The game is + up. That fine gentleman has smoked it.” He was angry beyond measure. Their + plans were far from ripe, and yet to delay longer now that their vigilance + was detected was, perhaps, to allow Sir Richard to slip through their + fingers, as well as the other. “Have ye your barkers?” he asked harshly. + </p> + <p> + Jerry tapped a heavily bulging pocket, and winked. Mr. Green thrust his + three-cornered hat a-cock over one eye, and with his hands behind the + tails of his coat, stood pondering. “Ay, pox on't!” he grumbled. “It must + be done to-night. I dursn't delay longer. We'll give the gentlemen time to + settle comfortably; then up we go to make things merry for 'em.” And he + beckoned the others across. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had gone up with considerable misgivings. The last + letter he had received from Sir Richard—that day at Stretton House—had + been to apprise him that his adoptive father was on the point of leaving + town but that he would be returned within the week. The business that had + taken him had been again concerned with Atterbury the obstinate. Upon + another vain endeavor to dissuade the bishop from a scheme his king did + not approve had Sir Richard journeyed to Rochester. He had had his pains + for nothing. Atterbury had kept him there, entertaining him, and seeking + in his turn to engulf the agent in the business that was toward—business + which was ultimately to suck down Atterbury and his associates. Sir + Richard, however, was very firm. And when at last he left Rochester to + return to town and his adoptive son, a coolness marked the parting of + those two adherents of the Stuart dynasty. + </p> + <p> + Returned to London—whence his absence had been marked with alarm by + Mr. Green—Sir Richard had sent a message to Mr. Caryll, and the + latter made haste to answer it in person. + </p> + <p> + His adoptive father received him with open arms, and such a joy in his + face, such a light in his old eyes as should have gladdened his visitor, + yet only served sadden him the more. He sighed as Sir Richard thrust him + back that he might look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're pale, boy,” he said, “and ye look thinner.” And with that he fell + to reviling the deed that was the cause of this, Rotherby and the whole + brood of Ostermore. + </p> + <p> + “Let be,” said Mr. Caryll, as he dropped into a chair. “Rotherby is + undergoing his punishment. The town looks on him as a cut-throat who has + narrowly escaped the gallows. I marvel that he tarries here. An I were he, + I think I'd travel for a year or two.” + </p> + <p> + “What weakness made you spare him when ye had him at the point of your + sword?” + </p> + <p> + “That which made me regret that I had him there; the reflection that he is + my brother.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard looked at him in some surprise. “I thought you of sterner + stuff, Justin,” he said presently, and sighed, passing a long white hand + across his bony brow. “I thought I had reared you to a finer strength. But + there! What of Ostermore himself?” + </p> + <p> + “What of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not talked again with him of the matter of going over to King + James?” + </p> + <p> + “To what end, since the chance is lost? His betrayal now would involve the + betrayal of Atterbury and the others—for he has been in touch with + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he though? The bishop said naught of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I have it from my lord himself—and I know the man. Were he taken + they'd wring out of him whatever happened to be in him. He has no + discretion. Indeed, he's but a clod, too stupid even to be aware of his + own stupidity.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is to be done?” inquired Sir Richard, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “We'd best get home to France again.” + </p> + <p> + “And leave matters thus?” He considered a moment, and shook his head, + smiling bitterly. “Could that content you, Justin? Could you go as you + have come—taking no more than you brought; leaving that man as you + found him? Could you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at the baronet, and wondered for a moment whether he + should persevere in the rule of his life and deal quite frankly with him, + telling him precisely what he felt. Then he realized that he would not be + understood. He could not combat the fanaticism that was Sir Richard's in + this matter. If he told him the truth; how he loathed the task; how he + rejoiced that circumstances had now put it beyond his reach—all he + would achieve would be to wound Sir Richard in his tenderest place and to + no purpose. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a matter of what I would,” he answered slowly, wearily almost. + “It is a matter of what I must. Here in England is no more to be done. + Moreover, there's danger for you in lingering, or I'm much mistaken else.” + </p> + <p> + “Danger of what?” asked Sir Richard, with indifference. + </p> + <p> + “You are being spied upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Pho! I am accustomed to it. I have been spied upon all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough. But this time the spies are messengers from the secretary of + state. I caught a glimpse of them lurking about your doorway—three + or four at least—and as I entered I all but fell over a Mr. Green—a + most pertinacious gentleman with whom I have already some acquaintance. He + is the very man who searched me at Maidstone; he has kept his eye upon me + ever since, which has not troubled me. But that he should keep an eye on + you means that your identity is suspected, and if that be so—well, + the sooner we are out of England the better for your health.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard shook his head calmly. The fine-featured, lean old face showed + no sign of uneasiness. “A fig for all that!” said he. “I go not thus—empty-handed + as I came. After all these years of waiting.” + </p> + <p> + A knock fell upon the door, and Sir Richard's man entered. His face was + white, his eyes startled. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard,” he announced, his voice lowered portentously, “there are + some men here who insist upon seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll wheeled in his chair. “Surely they did not ask for him by + name?” he inquired in the same low key employed by the valet. + </p> + <p> + The man nodded in silence. Mr. Caryll swore through his teeth. Sir Richard + rose. + </p> + <p> + “I am occupied at present,” he said in a calm voice. “I can receive + nobody. Desire to know their business. If it imports, bid them come again + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It is over-urgent for that, Sir Richard Everard,” came the soft voice of + Mr. Green, who thrust himself suddenly forward past the servant. Other + figures were seen moving behind him in the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried Sir Richard angrily. “This is a most insolent intrusion. + Bentley, show this fellow the door.” + </p> + <p> + Bentley set a hand on Mr. Green's shoulder. Mr. Green nimbly twisted out + of it, and produced a paper. “I have here a warrant for your apprehension, + Sir Richard, from my Lord Carteret, the secretary of state.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll advanced menacingly upon the tipstaff. Mr. Green stepped back, + and fell into a defensive attitude, balancing a short but + formidable-looking life-preserver. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your distance, sir, or 'twill be the worse for you,” he threatened. + “Hi!” he called. “Jerry! Beattie!” + </p> + <p> + Jerry, Beattie, and two other ruffians crowded to the doorway, but + advanced little beyond the threshold. Mr. Caryll turned to Sir Richard. + But Mr. Green was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard,” said he, “you'll see that we are but instruments of the + law. It grieves me profoundly to have you for our object. But ye'll see + that 'tis no affair of ours, who have but to do the duty that we're + ordered. Ye'll not give these poor fellows trouble, I trust. Ye'll + surrender quietly.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard's answer was to pull open a drawer in the writing-table, by + which he was standing, and whip out a pistol. + </p> + <p> + What exactly he may have intended, he was never allowed to announce. An + explosion shook the room, coming from the doorway, upon which Mr. Caryll + had turned his shoulder; there was a spurt of flame, and Sir Richard + collapsed forward onto the table, and slithered thence to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Jerry, taking fright at the sight of the pistol Sir Richard had produced, + had forestalled what he supposed to be the baronet's intentions by firing + instantly upon him, with this disastrous result. + </p> + <p> + Confusion ensued. Mr. Caryll, with no more thought for the tipstaves than + he had for the smoke in his eyes or the stench of powder in his nostrils, + sped to Sir Richard. In a passion of grief and anxiety, he raised his + adoptive father, aided by Bentley, what time Mr. Green was abusing Jerry, + and Jerry was urging in exculpation how he had acted purely in Mr. Green's + interest, fearing that Sir Richard might have been on the point of + shooting him. + </p> + <p> + The spy went forward to Mr. Caryll. “I am most profoundly sorry—” he + began. + </p> + <p> + “Take your sorrow to hell,” snarled Mr. Caryll, his face livid, his eyes + blazing uncannily. “I believe ye've murdered him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ecod! the fool shall smart for't if Sir Richard dies,” grumbled Mr. + Green. + </p> + <p> + “What's that to me? You may hang the muckworm, and what shall that profit + any one? Will it restore me Sir Richard's life? Send one of your ruffians + for a doctor, man. And bid him hasten.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green obeyed with alacrity. Apart from his regrets at this happening + for its own sake, it would suit his interests not at all that Sir Richard + should perish thus. Meanwhile, with the help of the valet, who was + blubbering like a child—for he had been with Sir Richard for over + ten years, and was attached to him as a dog to its master—they + opened the wounded man's sodden waistcoat and shirt, and reached the hurt, + which was on the right side of the breast. + </p> + <p> + Between them they lifted him up gently. Mr. Green would have lent a hand, + but a snarl from Mr. Caryll drove him back in sheer terror, and alone + those two bore the baronet into the next room and laid him on his bed. + Here they did the little that they could; propping him up and stemming the + bleeding, what time they waited through what seemed a century for the + doctor's coming, Mr. Caryll mad—stark mad for the time—with + grief and rage. + </p> + <p> + The physician arrived at last—a small, bird-like man under a great + gray periwig, with pointed features and little eyes that beamed brightly + behind horn-rimmed spectacles. + </p> + <p> + In the ante-room he was met by Mr. Green, who in in a few words told him + what had happened. Then the doctor entered the bedchamber alone, and + deposing hat and cane, went forward to make his examination. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll and Bentley stood aside to give place to him. He stooped, felt + the pulse, examined the lips of the wound, estimating the locality and + direction of the bullet, and his mouth made a clucking sound as of + deprecation. + </p> + <p> + “Very deplorable, very deplorable!” he muttered. “So hale a man, too, + despite his years. Very deplorable!” He looked up. “A Jacobite, ye say he + is, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Will he live?” inquired Mr. Caryll shortly, by way of recalling the man + of medicine to the fact that politics was not the business on which he had + been summoned. + </p> + <p> + The doctor pursed his lips, and looked at Mr. Caryll over the top of his + spectacles. “He will live—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” breathed Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “—perhaps an hour,” the doctor concluded, and never knew how near + was Mr. Caryll to striking him. He turned again to his patient, producing + a probe. “Very deplorable!” Mr. Caryll heard him muttering, parrot-like. + </p> + <p> + A pause ensued, and a silence broken only by occasional cluckings from the + little doctor, and Mr. Caryll stood by, a prey to an anguish more poignant + than he had ever known. At last there was a groan from the wounded man. + Mr. Caryll started forward. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard's eyes were open, and he was looking about him at the doctor, + the valet, and, lastly, at his adopted son. He smiled faintly at the + latter. Then the doctor touched Mr. Caryll's sleeve, and drew him aside. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot reach the bullet,” he said. “But 'tis no matter for that.” He + shook his head solemnly. “The lung has been pierced. A little time now, + and—I can do nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll nodded in silence, his face drawn with pain. With a gesture he + dismissed the doctor, who went out with Bentley. + </p> + <p> + When the valet returned, Mr. Caryll was on his knees beside the bed, Sir + Richard's hand in his, and Sir Richard was speaking in a feeble, hoarse + voice—gasping and coughing at intervals. + </p> + <p> + “Don't—don't grieve, Justin,” he was saying. “I am an old man. My + time must have been very near. I—I am glad that it is thus. It is + much better than if they had taken me. They'd ha' shown me no mercy. 'Tis + swifter thus, and—and easier.” + </p> + <p> + Silently Justin wrung the hand he held. + </p> + <p> + “You'll miss me a little, Justin,” the old man resumed presently. “We have + been good friends, lad—good friends for thirty years.” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” Justin cried, a sob in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard smiled. “I would I were your father in more than name, Justin. + Hast been a good son to me—no son could have been more than you.” + </p> + <p> + Bentley drew nigh with a long glass containing a cordial the doctor had + advised. Sir Richard drank avidly, and sighed content when he returned the + glass. “How long yet, Justin?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not long, father,” was the gloomy answer. + </p> + <p> + “It is well. I am content. I am happy, Justin. Believe me, I am happy. + What has my life been? Dissipated in the pursuit of a phantom.” He spoke + musingly, critically calm, as one who already upon the brink of + dissolution takes already but an impersonal interest in the course he has + run in life. + </p> + <p> + Judging so, his judgment was clearer than it had yet been; it grew sane, + and was freed at last from the hackles of fanaticism; and there was + something that he saw in its true proportions. He sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + “This is a judgment upon me,” he said presently. He turned his great eyes + full upon Justin, and their dance was infinitely wistful. “Do you + remember, Justin, that night at your lodging—that first night on + which we talked here in London of the thing you were come to do—the + thing to which I urged you? Do you recall how you upbraided me for having + set you a task that was unworthy and revolting?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” answered Justin, with an inward shudder, fearful of what + might follow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were right, Justin; right, and I was entirely wrong—wickedly + wrong. I should have left vengeance to God. He is wreaking it. Ostermore's + whole life has been a punishment; his end will be a punishment. I + understand it now. We do no wrong in life, Justin, for which in this same + life payment is not exacted. Ostermore has been paying. I should have been + content with that. After all, he is your father in the flesh, and it was + not for you to raise your hand against him. 'Tis what you have felt, and I + am glad you should have felt it, for it proves your worthiness. Can you + forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, father! Speak not of forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sore need of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but not from me; not from me! What is there I should forgive? There + is a debt between us I had hoped to repay some day when you were grown + truly old. I had looked to tend you in your old age, to be the comfort of + it, and the support that you were to my infancy.” + </p> + <p> + “It had been sweet, Justin,” sighed Sir Richard, smiling upon his adopted + son, and putting forth an unsteady hand to stroke the white, drawn face. + “It had been sweet. It is sweet to hear that you so proposed.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder convulsed him. He sank back coughing, and there was froth and + blood on his lips. Reverently Justin wiped them, and signed for the + cordial to Bentley, who stood, numbed, in the background. + </p> + <p> + “It is the end,” said Sir Richard feebly. “God has been good to me beyond + my deserts, and this is a crowning mercy. Consider, Justin, it might have + been the gibbet and a crowd—instead of this snug bed, and you and + Bentley here—just two good friends.” + </p> + <p> + Bentley, losing all self-control at this mention of himself, sank weeping + to his knees. Sir Richard put out a hand, and touched his head. + </p> + <p> + “You will serve Mr. Caryll, Bentley. You'll find him a good master if you + are as good a servant to him as you have been to me.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly he made the quick movement of one who bethinks himself of + something. He waved Bentley away. + </p> + <p> + “There is a case in the drawer yonder,” he said, when the servant was + beyond earshot. “It contains papers that concern you—certificates of + your birth and of your mothers death. I brought them with me as proofs of + your identity, against the time when the hour of vengeance upon Ostermore + should strike. They twill serve no purpose now. Burn them. They are best + destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll nodded understanding, and on Sir Richard's part there followed + another fight for breath, another attack of coughing, during which Bentley + instinctively approached again. + </p> + <p> + When the paroxysm was past, Sir Richard turned once more to Justin, who + was holding him in his arms, upright, to ease his breathing. “Be good to + Bentley,” he murmured, his voice very faint and exhausted now. “You are my + heir, Justin. All that I have—I set all in order ere I left Paris. + It—it is growing dark. You have not snuffed the candles, Bentley. + They are burning very low.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he started forward, held as he was in Justin's arms. He + half-raised his arms, holding out his hands toward the foot of the bed. + His eyes dilated; the expression of his livid face grew first surprised, + then joyous—beatific. “Antoinette!” he cried in a loud voice. “Antoi—” + </p> + <p> + And thus, abruptly, but in great happiness, he passed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. AMID THE GRAVES + </h2> + <p> + What time Sir Richard had been dying in the inner room, Mr. Green and two + of his acolytes had improved the occasion by making a thorough search in + Sir Richard's writing-table and a thorough investigation of every scrap of + paper found there. From which you will understand how much Mr. Green was a + gentleman who set business above every other consideration. + </p> + <p> + The man who had shot Sir Richard had been ordered by Mr. Green to take + himself off, and had been urged to go down on his knees, for once in a + way, and pray Heaven that his rashness might not bring him to the gallows + as he so richly deserved. + </p> + <p> + His fourth myrmidon Mr. Green had dispatched with a note to my Lord + Rotherby, and it was entirely upon the answer he should receive that it + must depend whether he proceeded or not, forthwith, to the apprehension of + Mr. Caryll. Meanwhile the search went on amain, and was extended presently + to the very bedroom where the dead Sir Richard lay. Every nook and cranny + was ransacked; the very mattress under the dead man was removed, and + investigated, and even Mr. Caryll and Bentley had to submit to being + searched. But it all proved fruitless. Not a line of treasonable matter + was to be found anywhere. To the certificates upon Mr. Caryll the searcher + made the mistake of paying but little heed in view of their nature. + </p> + <p> + But if there were no proofs of plots and treasonable dealings, there was, + at least, abundant proof of Sir Richard's identity, and Mr. Green + appropriated these against any awkward inquiries touching the manner in + which the baronet had met his death. + </p> + <p> + Of such inquiries, however, there were none. It was formally sworn to Lord + Carteret by Green and his men that the secretary's messenger, Jerry—the + fellow owned no surname—had shot Sir Richard in self-defence, when + Sir Richard had produced firearms upon being arrested on a charge of high + treason, for which they held the secretary's own warrant. + </p> + <p> + At first Lord Carteret considered it a thousand pities that they should + not have contrived matters better so as to take Sir Richard alive; but + upon reflection he was careful not to exaggerate to himself the loss + occasioned by his death, for Sir Richard, after all, was a notoriously + stubborn man, not in the least likely to have made any avowals worth + having. So that his trial, whilst probably resulting sterile of such + results as the government could desire, would have given publicity to the + matter of a plot that was hatching; and such publicity at a time of so + much unrest was the last thing the government desired. Where Jacobitism + was concerned, Lord Carteret had the wise discretion to proceed with the + extremest caution. Publicity might serve to fan the smouldering embers + into a blaze, whereas it was his cunning aim quietly to stifle them as he + came upon them. + </p> + <p> + So, upon the whole, he was by no means sure but that Jerry had done the + state the best possible service in disposing thus summarily of that + notorious Jacobite agent, Sir Richard Everard. And his lordship saw to it + that there was no inquiry and that nothing further was heard of the + matter. + </p> + <p> + As for Lord Rotherby, had the affair transpired twenty-four hours earlier, + he would certainly have returned Mr. Green a message to effect the arrest + of Mr. Caryll upon suspicion. But as it chanced, he had that very + afternoon received a visit from his mother, who came in great excitement + to inform him that she had forced from Lord Ostermore an acknowledgment + that he was plotting with Mr. Caryll to go over to King James. + </p> + <p> + So, before they could move further against Mr. Caryll, it behooved them to + ascertain precisely to what extent Lord Ostermore might not be + incriminated, as otherwise the arrest of Caryll might lead to exposures + that would ruin the earl more thoroughly than could any South Sea bubble + revelations. Thus her ladyship to her son. He turned upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, madam,” said he, “these be the very arguments I used t'other day + when we talked of this; and all you answered me then was to call me a + dull-witted clod, for not seeing how the thing might be done without + involving my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Tcha!” snapped her ladyship, beating her knuckles impatiently with her + fan. “A dull-witted clod did I call you? 'Twas flattery—sheer + flattery; for I think ye're something worse. Fool, can ye not see the + difference that lies betwixt your disclosing a plot to the secretary of + state, and causing this Caryll to disclose it—as might happen if he + were seized? First discover the plot—find out in what it may + consist, and then go to Lord Carteret to make your terms.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, out of temper by her rebuke. “I may be as dull as your + ladyship says—but I do not see in what the position now is different + from what it was.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't different—but we thought it was different,” she explained + impatiently. “We assumed that your father would not have betrayed himself, + counting upon his characteristic caution. But it seems we are mistook. He + has betrayed himself to Caryll. And before we can move in this matter, we + must have proofs of a plot to lay before the secretary of state.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby understood, and accounted himself between Scylla and + Charybdis, and when that evening Green's messenger found him, he gnashed + his teeth in rage at having to allow this chance to pass, at being forced + to temporize until he should be less parlously situated. He returned Mr. + Green an urgent message to take no steps concerning Mr. Caryll until they + should have concerted together. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green was relieved. Mr. Caryll arrested might stir up matters against + the slayer of Sir Richard, and this was a business which Mr. Green had + prevision enough to see his master, Lord Carteret, would prefer should not + be stirred up. He had a notion, for the rest, that if Mr. Caryll were left + to go his ways, he would not be likely to give trouble touching that same + matter. And he was right in this. Before his overwhelming sense of loss, + Mr. Caryll had few thoughts to bestow upon the manner in which that loss + had been sustained. Moreover, if he had a quarrel with any one on that + account, it was with the government whose representative had issued the + warrant for Sir Richard's arrest, and no more with the wretched tipstaff + who had fired the pistol than with the pistol itself. Both alike were but + instruments, of slightly different degrees of insensibility. + </p> + <p> + For twenty-four hours Mr. Caryll's grief was overwhelming in its + poignancy. His sense of solitude was awful. Gone was the only living man + who had stood to him for kith and kin. He was left alone in the world; + utterly alone. That was the selfishness of his sorrow—the + consideration of Sir Richard's death as it concerned himself. + </p> + <p> + Presently an alloy of consolation was supplied by the reflection of Sir + Richard's own case—as Sir Richard himself had stated it upon his + deathbed. His life had not been happy; it had been poisoned by a + monomania, which, like a worm in the bud, had consumed the sweetness of + his existence. Sir Richard was at rest. And since he had been discovered, + that shot was, indeed, the most merciful end that could have been measured + out to him. The alternative might have been the gibbet and the gaping + crowd, and a moral torture to precede the end. Better—a thousand + times better—as it was. + </p> + <p> + So much did all this weigh with him that when on the following Monday he + accompanied the body to its grave, he found his erstwhile passionate grief + succeeded by an odd thankfulness that things were as they were, although + it must be confessed that a pang of returning anguish smote him when he + heard the earth clattering down upon the wooden box that held all that + remained of the man who had been father, mother, brother and all else to + him. + </p> + <p> + He turned away at last, and was leaving the graveyard, when some one + touched him on the arm. It was a timid touch. He turned sharply, and found + himself looking into the sweet face of Hortensia Winthrop, wondering how + came she there. She wore a long, dark cloak and hood, but her veil was + turned back. A chair was waiting not fifty paces from them along the + churchyard wall. + </p> + <p> + “I came but to tell you how much I feel for you in this great loss,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in amazement. “How did you know?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “I guessed,” said she. “I heard that you were with him at the end, and I + caught stray words from her ladyship of what had passed. Lord Rotherby had + the information from the tipstaff who went to arrest Sir Richard Everard. + I guessed he was your—your foster-father, as you called him; and I + came to tell you how deeply I sorrow for you in your sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + He caught her hands in his and bore them to his lips, reckless of who + might see the act. “Ah, this is sweet and kind in you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She drew him back into the churchyard again. Along the wall there was an + avenue of limes—a cool and pleasant walk wherein idlers lounged on + Sundays in summer after service. Thither she drew him. He went almost + mechanically. Her sympathy stirred his sorrow again, as sympathy so often + does. + </p> + <p> + “I have buried my heart yonder, I think,” said he, with a wave of his hand + towards that spot amid the graves where the men were toiling with their + shovels. “He was the only living being that loved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, surely not,” said she, sorrow rather than reproach in her gentle + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes. Mine is a selfish grief. It is for myself that I sorrow, for + myself and my own loneliness. It is thus with all of us. When we argue + that we weep the dead, it would be more true to say that we bewail the + living. For him—it is better as it is. No doubt it is better so for + most men, when all is said, and we do wrong to weep their passing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not talk so,” she said. “It hurts.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—it is the way of truth to hurt, which is why, hating pain, we + shun truth so often.” He sighed. “But, oh, it was good in you to seek me, + to bring me word with your own lips of your sweet sympathy. If aught could + lighten the gloom of my sorrow, surely it is that.” + </p> + <p> + They stepped along in silence until they came to the end of the avenue, + and turned. It was no idle silence: the silence of two beings who have + naught to say. It was a grave, portentous silence, occasioned by the + unutterable much in the mind of one, and by the other's apprehension of + it. At last she spoke, to ask him what he meant to do. + </p> + <p> + “I shall return to France,” he said. “It had perhaps been better had I + never crossed to England.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think so,” she said, simply, frankly and with no touch of a + coquetry that had been harshly at discord with time and place. + </p> + <p> + He shot her a swift, sidelong glance; then stopped, and turned. “I am glad + on't,” said he. “'Twill make my going the easier.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean not that,” she cried, and held out her hands to him. “I meant not + what you think—you know, you know what 'twas I meant. You know—you + must—what impulse brought me to you in this hour, when I knew you + must need comfort. And in return how cruel, were you not—to tell me + that yonder lay buried the only living being that—that loved you?” + </p> + <p> + His fingers were clenched upon her arm. “Don't—don't!” he implored + hoarsely, a strange fire in his eyes, a hectic flush on either cheek. + “Don't! Or I'll forget what I am, and take advantage of this midsummer + folly that is upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it no more than folly, Justin?” she asked him, brown eyes looking up + into gray-green. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, something more—stark madness. All great emotions are. It will + pass, and you will be thankful that I was man enough—strong enough—to + allow it the chance of passing.” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head, shaking it sorrowfully. Then very softly: “Is it no + more than the matter of—of that, that stands between us?” she + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No more than that,” he answered, “and yet more than enough. I have no + name to offer any woman.” + </p> + <p> + “A name?” she echoed scornfully. “What store do you think I lay by that? + When you talk so, you obey some foolish prejudice; no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Obedience to prejudices is the whole art of living,” he answered, + sighing. + </p> + <p> + She made a gesture of impatience, and went on. “Justin, you said you loved + me; and when you said so much, you gave me the right—or so I + understood it—to speak to you as I am doing now. You are alone in + the world, without kith or kin. The only one you had—the one who + represented all for you—lies buried there. Would you return thus, + lonely and alone, to France?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now I understand!” he cried. “Now I understand. Pity is the impulse + that has urged you—pity for my loneliness, is't not, Hortensia?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not deny that without the pity there might not have been the + courage. Why should I—since it is a pity that gives you no offense, + a pity that is rooted firmly in—in love for you, my Justin?” + </p> + <p> + He set his hands upon her shoulders, and with glowing eyes regarded her. + “Ah, sweet!” said he, “you make me very, very proud.” + </p> + <p> + And then his arms dropped again limply to his sides. He sighed, and shook + his head drearily. “And yet—reflect. When I come to beg your hand in + marriage of your guardian, what shall I answer him of the questions he + will ask me of myself—touching my family, my parentage and all the + rest that he will crave to know?” + </p> + <p> + She observed that he was very white again. “Need you enter into that? A + man is himself; not his father or his family.” And then she checked. “You + make me plead too much,” she said, a crimson flood in her fair cheeks. + “I'll say no more than I have said. Already have I said more than I + intended. And you have wanted mercy that you could drive me to it. You + know my mind—my—my inmost heart. You know that I care nothing + for your namelessness. It is yours to decide what you will do. Come, now; + my chair is staying for me.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed; he sought again to convey some sense of his appreciation of her + great nobility; then led her through the gate and to her waiting chair. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever I may decide, Hortensia” was the last thing he said to her, “and + I shall decide as I account best for you, rather than for myself; and for + myself there needs no thought or hesitation—whatever I may decide, + believe me when I say from my soul that all my life shall be the sweeter + for this hour.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE GHOST OF THE PAST + </h2> + <p> + Temptation had seized Mr. Caryll in a throttling grip, and for two whole + days he kept the house, shunning all company and wrestling with that same + Temptation. In the end he took a whimsical resolve, entirely worthy of + himself. + </p> + <p> + He would go to Lord Ostermore formally to ask in marriage the hand of + Mistress Winthrop, and he would be entirely frank with the earl, stating + his exact condition, but suppressing the names of his parents. + </p> + <p> + He was greatly taken with the notion. It would create a situation ironical + beyond any, grotesque beyond belief; and its development should be + stupendously interesting. It attracted him irresistibly. That he should + leave it to his own father to say whether a man born as he was born might + aspire to marry his father's ward, had in it something that savored of + tragi-comedy. It was a pretty problem, that once set could not be left + unsolved by a man of Mr. Caryll's temperament. And, indeed, no sooner was + the idea conceived than it quickened into a resolve upon which he set out + to act. + </p> + <p> + He bade Leduc call a chair, and, dressed in mourning, but with his + habitual care, he had himself carried to Lincoln's Inn Fields. + </p> + <p> + Engrossed as he was in his own thoughts, he paid little heed to the hum of + excitement about the threshold of Stretton House. Within the railed + enclosure that fronted the mansion two coaches were drawn up, and a little + knot of idlers stood by one of these in busy gossip. + </p> + <p> + Paying no attention to them, Mr. Caryll mounted the steps, nor noticed the + gravity of the porter's countenance as he passed within. + </p> + <p> + In the hall he found a little flock of servants gathered together, and + muttering among themselves like conspirators in a tragedy; and so + engrossed that they paid no heed to him as he advanced, nor until he had + tapped one of them on the shoulder with his cane—and tapped him a + thought peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + “How now?” said he. “Does no one wait here?” + </p> + <p> + They fell apart a little, and stood at attention, with something curious + in their bearing, one and all. + </p> + <p> + “My service to his lordship, and say that I desire to speak with him.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at one another in hesitation for a moment; then Humphries, the + butler, came forward. “Your honor'll not have heard the news?” said he, a + solemn gravity in face and tone. + </p> + <p> + “News?” quoth Mr. Caryll sharply, intrigued by so much show of mystery. + “What news?” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship is very ill, sir. He had a seizure this morning when they + came for him.” + </p> + <p> + “A seizure?” said Mr. Caryll. And then: “When they came for him?” he + echoed, struck by something odd in the man's utterance of those five + words. “When who came for him?” + </p> + <p> + “The messengers, sir,” replied the butler dejectedly. “Has your honor not + heard?” And seeing the blank look on Mr. Caryll's face, he proceeded + without waiting for an answer: “His lordship was impeached yesterday by + his Grace of Wharton on a matter concerning the South Sea Company, and + Lord Carteret—the secretary of state, your honor—sent this + morning to arrest him.” + </p> + <p> + “'Sdeath!” ejaculated Mr. Caryll in his surprise, a surprise that was + tempered with some dismay. “And he had a seizure, ye say?” + </p> + <p> + “An apoplexy, your honor. The doctors are with him now; Sir James, + himself, is here. They're cupping him—so I hear from Mr. Tom, his + lordship's man. I'd ha' thought your honor would ha' heard. 'Tis town + talk, they say.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll would have found it difficult to have said exactly what + impression this news made upon him. In the main, however, he feared it + left him cold. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis very regrettable,” said he. He fell thoughtful a moment. Then: “Will + you send word to Mistress Winthrop that I am here, and would speak with + her, Humphries?” + </p> + <p> + Humphries conducted Mr. Caryll to the little white and gold + withdrawing-room that was Hortensia's. There, in the little time that he + waited, he revolved the situation as it now stood, and the temptation that + had been with him for the past three days rose up now with a greater + vigor. Should Lord Ostermore die, Temptation argued, he need no longer + hesitate. Hortensia would be as much alone in the world as he was; worse, + for life at Stretton House with her ladyship—from which even in the + earl's lifetime she had been led to attempt to escape—must be a + thing unbearable, and what alternative could he suggest but that she + should become his wife? + </p> + <p> + She came to him presently, white-faced and with startled eyes. As she took + his outstretched hands, she attempted a smile. “It is kind in you to come + to me at such a time,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You mistake,” said he, “as is but natural. I had not heard what had + befallen. I came to ask your hand in marriage of his lordship.” + </p> + <p> + Some faint color tinged her cheeks. “You had decided, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I had decided that his lordship must decide,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “And now?” + </p> + <p> + “And now it seems we must decide for ourselves if his lordship dies.” + </p> + <p> + Her mind swung to the graver matter. “Sir James has every hope,” she said, + and added miserably: “I know not which to pray for, his recovery or his + death.” + </p> + <p> + “Why that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if he survive it may be for worse. The secretary's agent is even + now seeking evidence against him among his own papers. He is in the + library at this moment, going through his lordship's desk.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll started. That mention of Ostermore's desk brought vividly + before his mind the recollection of the secret drawer wherein the earl had + locked away the letter he had received from King James and his own reply, + all packed as it was, with treason. If that drawer were discovered, and + those papers found, then was Ostermore lost indeed, and did he survive + this apoplexy, it would be to surrender his head upon the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + A moment he considered this, dispassionately. Then it broke upon his mind + that were this to happen, Ostermore's blood would indirectly be upon his + own head, since for the purpose of betrayal had he sought him out with + that letter from the exiled Stuart—which, be it remembered, King + James himself had no longer wished delivered. + </p> + <p> + It turned him cold with horror. He could not remain idle and let matters + run their course. He must avert these discoveries if it lay within his + power to do so, or else he must submit to a lifetime of remorse should + Ostermore survive to be attainted of treason. He had made an end—a + definite end—long since of his intention of working Ostermore's + ruin; he could not stand by now and see that ruin wrought as a result of + the little that already he had done towards encompassing it. + </p> + <p> + “His papers must be saved,” he said shortly. “I'll go to the library at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “But the secretary's agent is there already,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis no matter for that,” said he, moving towards the door. “His desk + contains that which will cost him his head if discovered. I know it,” he + assured her, and left her cold with fear. + </p> + <p> + “But, then, you—you?” she cried. “Is it true that you are a + Jacobite?” + </p> + <p> + “True enough,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Rotherby knows it,” she informed him. “He told me it was so. If—if + you interfere in this, it—it may mean your ruin.” She came to him + swiftly, a great fear written or her winsome face. + </p> + <p> + “Sh,” said he. “I am not concerned to think of that at present. If Lord + Ostermore perishes through his connection with the cause, it will mean + worse than ruin for me—though not the ruin that you are thinking + of.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “That I go to learn.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come with you, then.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment, looking at her; then he opened the door, and held + it for her, following after. He led the way across the hall to the + library, and they went in together. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ostermore's secretaire stood open, and leaning over it, his back + towards them was a short, stiffly-built man in a snuff-colored coat. He + turned at the sound of the closing door, and revealed the pleasant, chubby + face of Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Mr. Caryll. “Mr. Green again. I declare, sir, ye've the gift of + ubiquity.” + </p> + <p> + The spy stood up to regard him, and for all that his voice inclined to + sharpness when he spoke, the habitual grin sat like a mask upon the mobile + features. “What d'ye seek here?” + </p> + <p> + “Tis what I was about to ask you—what you are seeking; for that you + seek is plain. I thought perhaps I might assist you.” + </p> + <p> + “I nothing doubt you could,” answered Mr. Green with a fresh leer, that + contained this time something ironic. “I nothing doubt it! But by your + leave, I'll pursue my quest without your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll continued, nevertheless, to advance towards him, Mistress + Hortensia remaining in the background, a quiet spectator, betraying + nothing of the anxieties by which she was being racked. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're mighty curt this morning, Mr. Green,” said Mr. Caryll, very airy. + “Ye're mighty curt, and ye're entirely wrong so to be. You might find me a + very useful friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I've found you so before,” said Mr. Green sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Ye've a nice sense of humor,” said Mr. Caryll, head on one side, + contemplating the spy with admiration in his glance. + </p> + <p> + “And a nicer sense of a Jacobite,” answered Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + “He will have the last word, you perceive,” said Mr. Caryll to Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “Harkee, Mr. Caryll,” quoth Mr. Green, quite grimly now. “I'd ha' laid you + by the heels a month or more ago, but for certain friends o' mine who have + other ends to serve.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, what you tell me shocks me. It shakes the very foundations of my + faith in human nature. I have esteemed you an honest man, Mr. Green, and + it seems—on your own confessing—that ye're no better than a + damned rogue who neglects his duty to the state. I've a mind to see Lord + Carteret, and tell him the truth of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye shall have an opportunity before long, ecod!” said Mr. Green. + “Good-morning to you! I've work to do.” And he turned back to the desk. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis wasted labor,” said Mr. Caryll, producing his snuff-box, and tapping + it. “You might seek from now till the crack of doom, and not find what ye + seek—not though you hack the desk to pieces. It has a secret, Mr. + Green. I'll make a bargain with you for that secret.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green turned again, and his shrewd, bright eyes scanned more closely + that lean face, whose keenness was all dissembled now in an easy, languid + smile. “A bargain?” grumbled the spy. “I' faith, then, the secret's + worthless.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye think that? Pho! 'Tis not like your usual wit, Mr. Green. The letter + that I carried into England, and that you were at such splendid pains to + find at Maidstone, is in here.” And he tapped the veneered top of the + secretaire with his forefinger. “But ye'll not find it without my help. It + is concealed as effectively—as effectively as it was upon my person + when ye searched me. Now, sir, will ye treat with me? It'll save you a + world of labor.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green still looked at him. He licked his lips thoughtfully, cat-like. + “What terms d'ye make?” he inquired, but his tone was very cold. His busy + brain was endeavoring to conjecture what exactly might be Mr. Caryll's + object in this frankness which Mr. Green was not fool enough to believe + sincere. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Mr. Caryll. “That is more the man I know.” He tapped his + snuff-box, and in that moment memory rather than inspiration showed him + the thing he needed. “Did ye ever see 'The Constant Couple,' Mr. Green?” + he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “'The Constant Couple'?” echoed Mr. Green, and though mystified, he must + air his little jest. “I never saw any couple that was constant—leastways, + not for long.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Ye're a roguish wag! But 'The Constant Couple' I mean is a play.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a play! Ay, I mind me I saw it some years ago, when 'twas first + acted. But what has that to do with—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll understand in a moment,” said Mr. Caryll, with a smile the spy did + not relish. “D'ye recall a ruse of Sir Harry Wildairs to rid himself of + the company of an intrusive old fool who was not wanted? D'ye remember + what 'twas he did?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green, his head slightly on one side, was watching Mr. Caryll very + closely, and not without anxiety. “I don't,” said he, and dropped a hand + to the pocket where a pistol lay, that he might be prepared for + emergencies. “What did he do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you,” said Mr. Caryll. “He did this.” And with a swift upward + movement, he emptied his snuff-box full into the face of Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green leapt back, with a scream of pain, hands to his eyes, and quite + unconsciously set himself to play to the life the part of the intrusive + old fellow in the comedy. Dancing wildly about the room, his eyes smarting + and burning so that he could not open them, he bellowed of hell-fire and + other hot things of which he was being so intensely reminded. + </p> + <p> + “'Twill pass,” Mr. Caryll consoled him. “A little water, and all will be + well with you.” He stepped to the door as he spoke, and flung it open. + “Ho, there! Who waits?” he called. + </p> + <p> + Two or three footmen sprang to answer him. He took Mr. Green, still blind + and vociferous, by the shoulders, and thrust him into their care. “This + gentleman has had a most unfortunate accident. Get him water to wash his + eyes—warm water. So! Take him. 'Twill pass, Mr. Green. 'Twill soon + pass, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + He shut the door upon them, locked it, and turned to Hortensia, smiling + grimly. Then he crossed quickly to the desk, and Hortensia followed him. + He sat down, and pulled out bodily the bottom drawer on the right inside + of the upper part of the desk, as he had seen Lord Ostermore do that day, + a little over a week ago. He thrust his hand into the opening, and felt + along the sides for some moments in vain. He went over the ground again + slowly, inch by inch, exerting constant pressure, until he was suddenly + rewarded by a click. The small trap disclosed itself. He pulled it up, and + took some papers from the recess. He spread them before him. They were the + documents he sought—the king's letter to Ostermore, and Ostermore's + reply, signed and ready for dispatch. “These must be burnt,” he said, “and + burnt at once, for that fellow Green may return, or he may send others. + Call Humphries. Get a taper from him.” + </p> + <p> + She sped to the door, and did his bidding. Then she returned. She was + plainly agitated. “You must go at once,” she said, imploringly. “You must + return to France without an instant's delay.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, indeed, it would mean my ruin to remain now,” he admitted. “And yet—” + He held out his hands to her. + </p> + <p> + “I will follow you,” she promised him. “I will follow you as soon as his + lordship is recovered, or—or at peace.” + </p> + <p> + “You have well considered, sweetheart?” he asked her, holding her to him, + and looking down into her gentle eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There is no happiness for me apart from you.” + </p> + <p> + Again his scruples took him. “Tell Lord Ostermore—tell him all,” he + begged her. “Be guided by him. His decision for you will represent the + decision of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the world to me? You are the world to me,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + There was a rap upon the door. He put her from him, and went to open. It + was Humphries with a lighted taper. He took it, thanked the man with a + word, and shut the door in his face, ignoring the fact that the fellow was + attempting to tell him something. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the desk. “Let us make quite sure that this is all,” he + said, and held the taper so that the light shone into the recess. It + seemed empty at first; then, as the light penetrated farther, he saw + something that showed white at the back of the cachette. He thrust in his + hand, and drew out a small package bound with a ribbon that once might + have been green but was faded now to yellow. He set it on the desk, and + returned to his search. There was nothing else. The recess was empty. He + closed the trap and replaced the drawer. Then he sat down again, the taper + at his elbow, Mistress Winthrop looking on, facing him across the top of + the secretaire, and he took up the package. + </p> + <p> + The ribbon came away easily, and some half-dozen sheets fell out and + scattered upon the desk. They gave out a curious perfume, half of age, + half of some essence with which years ago they had been imbued. Something + took Mr. Caryll in the throat, and he could never explain whether it was + that perfume or some premonitory emotion, some prophetic apprehension of + what he was about to see. + </p> + <p> + He opened the first of those folded sheets, and found it to be a letter + written in French and in an ink that had paled to yellow with the years + that were gone since it had been penned. The fine, pointed writing was + curiously familiar to Mr. Caryll. He looked at the signature at the bottom + of the page. It swam before his eyes—ANTOINETTE-“Celle qui l'adore, + Antoinette,” he read, and the whole world seemed blotted out for him; all + consciousness, his whole being, his every sense, seemed concentrated into + his eyes as they gazed upon that relic of a deluded woman's dream. + </p> + <p> + He did not read. It was not for him to commit the sacrilege of reading + what that girl who had been his mother had written thirty years ago to the + man she loved—the man who had proved false as hell. + </p> + <p> + He turned the other letters over; opened them one by one, to make sure + that they were of the same nature as the first, and what time he did so he + found himself speculating upon the strangeness of Ostermore's having so + treasured them. Perhaps he had thrust them into that secret recess, and + there forgotten them; 'twas an explanation that sorted better with what + Mr. Caryll knew of his father, than the supposition that so dull and + practical and self-centered a nature could have been irradiated by a gleam + of such tenderness as the hoarding of those letters might have argued. + </p> + <p> + He continued to turn them over, half-mechanically, forgetful of the urgent + need to burn the treasonable documents he had secured, forgetful of + everything, even Hortensia's presence. And meantime she watched him in + silence, marvelling at this delay, and still more at the gray look that + had crept into his face. + </p> + <p> + “What have you found?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “A ghost,” he answered, and his voice had a strained, metallic ring. He + even vented an odd laugh. “A bundle of old love-letters.” + </p> + <p> + “From her ladyship?” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship?” He looked up, an expression on his face which seemed to + show that he could not at the moment think who her ladyship might be. Then + as the picture of that bedaubed, bedizened and harsh-featured Jezebel + arose in his mind to stand beside the sweet girl—image of his mother—as + he knew her from the portrait that hung at Maligny—he laughed again. + “No, not from her ladyship,” said he. “From a woman who loved him years + ago.” And he turned to the seventh and last of those poor ghosts-the + seventh, a fateful number. + </p> + <p> + He spread it before him; frowned down on it a moment with a sharp hiss of + indrawn breath. Then he twisted oddly on his chair, and sat bolt upright, + staring straight before him with unseeing eyes. Presently he passed a hand + across his brow, and made a queer sound in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + But he did not answer; he was staring at the paper again. A while he sat + thus; then with swift fevered fingers he took up once more the other + letters. He unfolded one, and began to read. A few lines he read, and then—“O + God!” he cried, and flung out his arms under stress of 'his emotions. One + of them caught the taper that stood upon the desk; and swept it, + extinguished, to the floor. He never heeded it, never gave a thought to + the purpose for which it had been fetched, a purpose not yet served. He + rose. He was white as the dead are white, and she observed that he was + trembling. He took up the bundle of old letters, and thrust them into an + inside pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” she cried, seeking at last to arouse him from the + spell under which he appeared to have fallen. “Those letters—” + </p> + <p> + “I must see Lord Ostermore,” he answered wildly, and made for the door, + reeling like a drunkard in his walk. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE END OF LORD OSTERMORE + </h2> + <p> + In the ante-room communicating with Lord Ostermore's bedroom the countess + was in consultation with Rotherby, who had been summoned by his mother + when my lord was stricken. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship occupied the window-seat; Rotherby stood beside her, leaning + slightly against the frame of the open window. Their conversation was + earnest and conducted in a low key, and one would naturally have + conjectured that it had for subject the dangerous condition of the earl. + And so it had—the dangerous condition of the earl's political, if + not physical, affairs. To her ladyship and her son, the matter of their + own future was of greater gravity than the matter of whether his lordship + lived or died—which, whatever it may be, is not unreasonable. Since + the impeachment of my lord and the coming of the messengers to arrest him, + the danger of ruin and beggary were become more imminent—indeed, + they impended, and measures must be concerted to avert these evils. By + comparison with that, the earl's succumbing or surviving was a trivial + matter; and the concern they had manifested in Sir James' news—when + the important, well-nourished physician who had bled his lordship came to + inform them that there was hope—was outward only, and assumed for + pure decorum's sake. + </p> + <p> + “Whether he lives or dies,” said the viscount pertinently, after the + doctor had departed to return to his patient, “the measures to be taken + are the same.” And he repeated the substance of their earlier discussions + upon this same topic. “If we can but secure the evidence of his treason + with Caryll,” he wound up, “I shall be able to make terms with Lord + Carteret to arrest the proceedings the government may intend, and thus + avert the restitution it would otherwise enforce.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he were to die,” said her ladyship, as coldly, horribly + calculating as though he were none of hers, “there would be an end to this + danger. They could not demand restitution of the dead, nor impose fines + upon him.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby shook his head. “Believe not that, madam,” said he. “They can + demand restitution of his heirs and impose their fines upon the estate. + 'Twas done in the case of Chancellor Craggs, though he shot himself.” + </p> + <p> + She raised a haggard face to his. “And do you dream that Lord Carteret + would make terms with you?” + </p> + <p> + “If I can show him—by actual proof—that a conspiracy does + exist, that the Stuart supporters are plotting a rising. Proof of that + should be of value to Lord Carteret, of sufficient value to the government + to warrant the payment of the paltry price I ask—that the + impeachment against my father for his dealings with the South Sea Company + shall not be allowed. + </p> + <p> + “But it might involve the worse betrayal of your father, Charles, and if + he were to live—” + </p> + <p> + “'Sdeath, mother, why must you harp on that? I a'n't the fool you think + me,” he cried. “I shall make it a further condition that my father have + immunity. There will be no lack of victims once the plot is disclosed; and + they may begin upon that coxcomb Caryll—the damned meddler who is at + the bottom of all this garboil.” + </p> + <p> + She sat bemused, her eyes upon the sunlit gardens below, where a faint + breeze was stirring the shrub tops. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” she said presently, “a secret drawer somewhere in his desk. If + he has papers they will, no doubt, be there. Had you not best be making + search for them?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled darkly. “I have seen to that already,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “How?” excitedly. “You have got the papers?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I have set an experienced hand to find them, and one, moreover, + who has the right by virtue of his warrant—the messenger of the + secretary of state.” + </p> + <p> + She sat up, rigid. “'Sdeath! What is't ye mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No need for alarm,” he reassured her. “This fellow Green is in my pay, as + well as in the secretary's, and it will profit him most to keep faith with + me. He's a self-seeking dog, content to run with the hare and hunt with + the hounds, so that there be profit in it, and he'd sacrifice his ears to + bring Mr. Caryll to the gallows. I have promised him that and a thousand + pounds if we save the estates from confiscation.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, between wonder and fear. “Can ye trust him?” she asked + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + He laughed softly and confidently. “I can trust him to earn a thousand + pounds,” he answered. “When he heard of the impeachment, he used such + influence as he has to be entrusted with the arrest of his lordship; and + having obtained his warrant, he came first to me to tell me of it. A + thousand pounds is the price of him, body and soul. I bade him seek not + only evidence of my lord's having received that plaguey stock, but also + papers relating to this Jacobite plot into which his lordship has been + drawn by our friend Caryll. He is at his work at present. And I shall hear + from him when it is accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “You have very well disposed, Charles,” + she approved him. “If your father lives, it should not be a difficult + matter—” + </p> + <p> + She checked suddenly and turned, while Rotherby, too, looked up and + stepped quickly from the window-embrasure where he had stood. + </p> + <p> + The door of the bedroom had been suddenly pulled open, and Sir James came + out, very pale and discomposed. + </p> + <p> + “Madam—your ladyship—my lord!” he gasped, his mouth working, + his hands waving foolishly. + </p> + <p> + The countess rose to confront him, tall, severe and harsh. The viscount + scowled a question. Sir James quailed before them, evidently in + affliction. + </p> + <p> + “Madam—his lordship,” he said, and by his eloquent gesture of + dejection announced what he had some difficulty in putting into words. + </p> + <p> + She stepped forward, and took him by the wrist. “Is he dying?” she + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Have courage, madam,” the doctor besought her. + </p> + <p> + The apparent irrelevancy of the request at such a moment, angered her. Her + mood was dangerously testy. And had the doctor but known it, sympathy was + a thing she had not borne well these many years. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you was he dying,” she reminded him, with a cold sternness that + beat aside all his attempts at subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship—he is dead,” he faltered, with lowered eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” she echoed dully, and her hand went to the region of her heart, + her face turned livid under its rouge. “Dead?” she said again, and behind + her, Rotherby echoed the dread word in a stupor almost equal to her own. + Her lips moved to speak, but no words came. She staggered where she stood, + and put her hand to her brow. Her son's arms were quickly about her. He + supported her to a chair, where she sank as if all her joints were + loosened. + </p> + <p> + Sir James flew for restoratives; bathed her brow with a dampened + handkerchief; held strong salts to her nostrils, and murmured words of + foolish, banal consolation, whilst Rotherby, in a half-dreaming condition, + stunned by the suddenness of the blow, stood beside her, mechanically + lending his assistance and supporting her. + </p> + <p> + Gradually she mastered her agitation. It was odd that she should feel so + much at losing what she valued so little. Leastways, it would have been + odd, had it been that. It was not—it was something more. In the + awful, august presence of death, stepped so suddenly into their midst, she + felt herself appalled. + </p> + <p> + For nigh upon thirty years she had been bound by legal and churchly ties + in a loveless union with Lord Ostermore—married for the handsome + portion that had been hers, a portion which he had gamed away and + squandered until, for their station, their circumstances were now + absolutely straitened. They had led a harsh, discordant life, and the + coming of a son, which should have bridged the loveless gulf between them, + seemed but to have served to dig it wider. And the son had been just the + harsh, unfeeling offspring that might be looked for from such a union. + Thirty years of slavery had been her ladyship's, and in those thirty years + her nature had been soured and warped, and what inherent sweetness it may + once have known had long since been smothered and destroyed. She had no + cause to love that man who had never loved her, never loved aught of hers + beyond her jointure. And yet, there was the habit of thirty years. For + thirty years they had been yoke-fellows, however detestable the yoke. But + yesterday he had been alive and strong, a stupid, querulous thing maybe, + but a living. And now he was so much carrion that should be given to the + earth. In some such channel ran her ladyship's reflections during those + few seconds in which she was recovering. For an instant she was softened. + The long-since dried-up springs of tenderness seemed like to push anew + under the shock of this event. She put out a hand to take her son's. + </p> + <p> + “Charles!” she said, and surprised him by the tender note. + </p> + <p> + A moment thus; then she was herself again. “How did he die?” she asked the + doctor; and the abruptness of the resumption of her usual manner startled + Sir James more than aught in his experience of such scenes. + </p> + <p> + “It was most sudden, madam,” answered he. “I had the best grounds for + hope. I was being persuaded we should save him. And then, quite suddenly, + without an instant's warning, he succumbed. He just heaved a sigh, and was + gone. I could scarcely believe my senses, madam.” + </p> + <p> + He would have added more particulars of his feelings and emotions—for + he was of those who believe that their own impressions of a phenomenon are + that phenomenon's most interesting manifestations—but her ladyship + waved him peremptorily into silence. + </p> + <p> + He drew back, washing his hands in the air, an expression of polite + concern upon his face. “Is there aught else I can do to be of service to + your ladyship?” he inquired, solicitous. + </p> + <p> + “What else?” she asked, with a fuller return to her old self. “Ye've + killed him. What more is there you can do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madam—nay, madam! I am most deeply grieved that my—my—” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship will wait upon you to the door,” said she, designating her + son. + </p> + <p> + The eminent physician effaced himself from her ladyship's attention. It + was his boast that he could take a hint when one was given him; and so he + could, provided it were broad enough, as in the present instance. + </p> + <p> + He gathered up his hat and gold-headed cane—the unfailing insignia + of his order—and was gone, swiftly and silently. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby closed the door after him, and returned slowly, head bowed, to + the window where his mother was still seated. They looked at each other + gravely for a long moment. + </p> + <p> + “This makes matters easier for you,” she said at length. + </p> + <p> + “Much easier. It does not matter now how far his complicity may be + betrayed by his papers. I am glad, madam, to see you so far recovered from + your weakness.” + </p> + <p> + She shivered, as much perhaps at his tone as at the recollections he + evoked. “You are very indifferent, Charles,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily, then slightly shrugged. “What need to wear a + mask? Bah! Did he ever give me cause to feel for him?” he asked. “Mother, + if one day I have a son of my own, I shall see to it that he loves me.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be hard put to it, with your nature, Charles,” she told him + critically. Then she rose. “Will you go to him with me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He made as if to acquiesce, then halted. “No,” he said, and there was + repugnance in his tone and face. “Not—not now.” + </p> + <p> + There came a knocking at the door, rapid, insistent. Grateful for the + interruption, Rotherby went to open. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green staggered forward with swollen eyes, his face inflamed with + rage, and with something else that was not quite apparent to Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “My lord!” he cried in a loud, angry voice. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby caught his wrist and checked him. “Sh! sir,” he said gravely. + “Not here.” And he pushed him out again, her ladyship following them. + </p> + <p> + It was in the gallery—above the hall, in which the servants still + stood idly about—that Mr. Green spattered out his wrathful tale of + what had befallen in the library. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby shook him as if he had been a rat. “You cursed fool!” he cried. + “You left him there—at the desk?” + </p> + <p> + “What help had I?” demanded Green with spirit. “My eyes were on fire. I + couldn't see, and the pain of them made me helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did ye not send word to me at once, you fool?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was concerned only to stop my eyes from burning,” answered Mr. + Green, in a towering rage at finding reproof where he had come in quest of + sympathy. “I have come to you at the first moment, damn you!” he burst + out, in full rebellion. “And you'll use me civilly now that I am come, or—ecod!—it'll + be the worse for your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby considered him through a faint mist that rage had set before his + eyes. To be so spoken to—damned indeed!—by a dirty spy! Had he + been alone with the man, there can be little doubt but that he would have + jeopardized his very precarious future by kicking Mr. Green downstairs. + But his mother saved him from that rashness. It may be that she saw + something of his anger in his kindling eye, and thought it well to + intervene. + </p> + <p> + She set a hand on his sleeve. “Charles!” she said to him in a voice that + was dead cold with warning. + </p> + <p> + He responded to it, and chose discretion. He looked Green over, + nevertheless. “I vow I'm very patient with you,” said he, and Green had + the discretion on his side to hold his tongue. “Come, man, while we stand + talking here that knave may be destroying precious evidence.” + </p> + <p> + And his lordship went quickly down the stairs, Mr. Green following hard + upon his heels, and her ladyship bringing up the rear. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the library Rotherby came to a halt, and turned the handle. + The door was locked. He beckoned a couple of footmen across the hall, and + bade them break it open. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. Mr. CARYLL'S IDENTITY + </h2> + <p> + “I must see Lord Ostermore!” had been Mr. Caryll's wild cry, as he strode + to the door. + </p> + <p> + From the other side of it there came a sound of steps and voices. Some one + was turning the handle. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia caught Mr. Caryll by the sleeve. “But the letters!” she cried + frantically, and pointed to the incriminating papers which he had left, + forgotten, upon the desk. + </p> + <p> + He stared at her a moment, and memory swept upon him in a flood. He + mastered the wild agitation that had been swaying him, thrust the paper + that he was carrying into his pocket, and turned to go back for the + treasonable letters. + </p> + <p> + “The taper!” he exclaimed, and pointed to the extinguished candle on the + floor. “What can we do?” + </p> + <p> + A sharp blow fell upon the lock of the door. He stood still, looking over + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! Make haste!” Hortensia admonished him in her excitement. “Get + them! Conceal them, at least! Do the best you can since we have not the + means to burn them.” + </p> + <p> + A second blow was struck, succeeded instantly by a third, and something + was heard to snap. The door swung open, and Green and Rotherby sprang into + the room, a brace of footmen at their heels. They were followed more + leisurely by the countess; whilst a little flock of servants brought up + the rear, but checked upon the threshold, and hung there to witness events + that held out such promise of being unusual. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll swore through set teeth, and made a dash for the desk. But he + was too late to accomplish his object. His hand had scarcely closed upon + the letters, when he was, himself, seized. Rotherby and Green, on either + side of him, held him in their grasp, each with one hand upon his shoulder + and the other at his wrist. Thus stood he, powerless between them, and, + after the first shock of it, cool and making no effort to disengage + himself. His right hand was tightly clenched upon the letters. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby called a servant forward. “Take those papers from the thief's + hand,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Mr. Caryll. “Lord Rotherby, may I speak with you alone + before you go further in a matter you will bitterly regret?” + </p> + <p> + “Take those papers from him,” Rotherby repeated, swearing; and the servant + bent to the task. But Mr. Caryll suddenly wrenched the hand away from the + fellow and the wrist out of Lord Rotherby's grip. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, my lord, as you value your honor and your possessions!” he + insisted. “Let me speak with Lord Ostermore first. Take me before him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are before him now,” said Rotherby. “Say on!” + </p> + <p> + “I demand to see Lord Ostermore.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Lord Ostermore,” said Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “You? Since when?” said Mr. Caryll, not even beginning to understand. + </p> + <p> + “Since ten minutes ago,” was the callous answer that first gave that + household the news of my lord's passing. + </p> + <p> + There was a movement, a muttering among the servants. Old Humphries broke + through the group by the door, his heavy chops white and trembling, and in + that moment Hortensia turned, awe-stricken, to ask her ladyship was this + true. Her ladyship nodded in silence. Hortensia cried out, and sank to a + chair as if beaten down by the news, whilst the old servant, answered, + too, withdrew, wringing his hands and making foolish laments; and the + tears of those were the only tears that watered the grave of John Caryll, + fifth Earl of Ostermore. + </p> + <p> + As for Mr. Caryll, the shock of that announcement seemed to cast a spell + upon him. He stood still, limp and almost numbed. Oh, the never-ceasing + irony of things! That his father should have died at such a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” quoth he. “Dead? Is my lord dead? They told me he was recovering.” + </p> + <p> + “They told you false,” answered Rotherby. “So now—those papers!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll relinquished them. “Take them,” he said. “Since that is so—take + them.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby received them himself. “Remove his sword,” he bade a footman. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked sharply round at him. “My sword?” quoth he. “What do you + mean by that? What right?” + </p> + <p> + “We mean to keep you by us, sir,” said Mr. Green on his other side, “until + you have explained what you were doing with those papers—what is + your interest in them.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile a servant had done his lordship's bidding, and Mr. Caryll stood + weaponless amid his enemies. He mastered himself at once. Here it was + plain that he must walk with caution, for the ground, he perceived, was of + a sudden grown most insecure and treacherous. Rotherby and Green in + league! It gave him matter for much thought. + </p> + <p> + “There's not the need to hold me,” said he quietly. “I am not likely to + tire myself by violence. There's scarcely necessity for so much.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby looked up sharply. The cool, self-possessed tone had an + intimidating note. But Mr. Green laughed maliciously, as he continued to + mop his still watering eyes. He was acquainted with Mr. Caryll's methods, + and knew that, probably, the more at ease he seemed, the less at ease he + was. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby spread the letters on the desk, and scanned them with a glowing + eye, Mr. Green at his elbow reading with him. The countess swept forward + that she, too, might inspect this find. + </p> + <p> + “They'll serve their turn,” said her son, and added to Caryll: “And + they'll help to hang you.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you find me mentioned in them,” said Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir,” snapped Green, “if not by name, at least as the messenger who + is to explain that which the writers—the royal writer and the other—have + out of prudence seen fit to exclude.” + </p> + <p> + Hortensia looked up and across the room at that, a wild fear clutching at + her heart. But Mr. Caryll laughed pleasantly, eyebrows raised as if in + mild surprise. “The most excellent relations appear to prevail between + you,” said he, looking from Rotherby to Green. “Are you, too, my lord, in + the secretary's pay.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship flushed darkly. “You'll clown it to the end,” he sneered. + </p> + <p> + “And that's none so far off,” snarled Mr. Green, who since the peppering + of his eyes, had flung aside his usual cherubic air. “Oh, you may sneer, + sir,” he mocked the prisoner. “But we have you fast. This letter was + brought hither by you, and this one was to have been carried hence by + you.” + </p> + <p> + “The latter, sir, was a matter for the future, and you can hardly prove + what a man will do; so we'll let that pass. As for the former—the + letter which you say I brought—you'll remember that you searched me + at Maidstone—” + </p> + <p> + “And I have your admission that the letter was upon you at the time,” + roared the spy, interrupting him—“your admission in the presence of + that lady, as she can be made to witness.” + </p> + <p> + Mistress Winthrop rose. “'Tis a lie,” she said firmly. “I can not be made + to witness.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled, and nodded across to her. “'Tis vastly kind in you, + Mistress Winthrop. But the gentleman is mistook.” He turned to Green. + “Harkee, sirrah did I admit that I had carried that letter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green shrugged. “You admitted that you carried a letter. What other + letter should it have been but that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” smiled Mr. Caryll. “'Tis not for you to ask me. Rather is it for + you to prove that the letter I admitted having carried and that letter are + one and the same. 'Twill take a deal of proving, I dare swear.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll be forsworn, then,” put in her ladyship sourly. “For I can witness + to the letter that you bore. Not only did I see it—a letter on that + same fine paper—in my husband's hands on the day you came here and + during your visit, but I have his lordship's own word for it that he was + in the plot and that you were the go-between.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” chuckled Mr. Green. “What now, sir? What now? By what fresh piece of + acrobatics will you get out of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye're a fool,” said Mr. Caryll with calm contempt, and fetched out his + snuff-box. “D'ye dream that one witness will suffice to establish so grave + a charge? Pah!” He opened his snuff-box to find it empty, and viciously + snapped down the lid again. “Pah!” he said again, “ye've cost me a whole + boxfull of Burgamot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did ye throw it in my face?” demanded Mr. Green. “What purpose did ye + look to serve but one of treason? Answer me that!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't like the way ye looked at me. 'Twas wanting respect, and I + bethought me I would lessen the impudence of your expression. Have ye any + other foolish questions for me?” And he looked again from Green to + Rotherby, including both in his inquiry. “No?” He rose. “In that case, if + you'll give me leave, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You do not leave this house,” Rotherby informed him. + </p> + <p> + “I think you push hospitality too far. Will you desire your lackey to + return me my sword? I have affairs elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Caryll, I beg that you will understand,” said his lordship, with a + calm that he was at some pains to maintain, “that you do not leave this + house save in the care of the messengers from the secretary of state.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked at him, and yawned in his face. “Ye're prodigiously + tiresome,” said he, “did ye but know how I detest disturbances. What shall + the secretary of state require of me?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll require you on a charge of high treason,” said Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a warrant to take me?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Then how do you dare detain me, sir?” demanded Mr. Caryll sharply. “D'ye + think I don't know the law?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you'll know a deal more of it shortly,” countered Mr. Green. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile, sirs, I depart. Offer me violence at your peril.” He moved a + step, and then, at a sign from Rotherby, the lackey's hands fell on him + again, and forced him back and down into his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Away with you for the warrant,” said Rotherby to Green. “We'll keep him + here till you return.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green grinned at the prisoner, and was gone in great haste. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll lounged back in his chair, and threw one leg over the other. “I + have always endeavored,” said he, “to suffer fools as gladly as a + Christian should. So since you insist, I'll be patient until I have the + ear of my Lord Carteret—who, I take it, is a man of sense. But if I + were you, my lord, and you, my lady, I should not insist. Believe me, + you'll cut poor figures. As for you, my lord, ye're in none such good + odor, as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Let that be,” snarled his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “If I mention it at all, I but do so in your lordship's own interests. It + will be remembered that ye attempted to murder me once, and that will not + be of any great help to such accusations as you may bring against me. + Besides which, there is the unfortunate circumstance that it's widely + known ye're not a man to be believed.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be silent?” roared his lordship, in a towering passion. + </p> + <p> + “If I trouble myself to speak at all, it is out of concern for your + lordship,” Mr. Caryll insisted sweetly. “And in your own interest, and + your ladyship's, too, I'd counsel you to hear me a moment without + witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was calculatedly grave. Lord Rotherby looked at him, sneering; + not so her ladyship. Less acquainted with his ways, the absolute + confidence and unconcern of his demeanor was causing her uneasiness. A man + who was perilously entrammelled would not bear himself so easily, she + opined. She rose, and crossed to her son's side. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say?” she asked Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, madam,” he replied, “not before these.” And he indicated the + servants. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis but a pretext to have them out of the room,” said Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll laughed the notion to scorn. “If you think that—I give + you my word of honor to attempt no violence, nor to depart until you shall + give me leave,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby, judging Mr. Caryll by his knowledge of himself, still hesitated. + But her ladyship realized, in spite of her detestation of the man, that he + was not of the temper of those whose word is to be doubted. She signed to + the footmen. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she bade them. “Wait within call.” + </p> + <p> + They departed, and Mr. Caryll remained seated for all that her ladyship + was standing; it was as if by that he wished to show how little he was + minded to move. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship's eye fell upon Hortensia. “Do you go, too, child,” she bade + her. + </p> + <p> + Instead, Hortensia came forward. “I wish to remain, madam,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Did I ask you what you wished?” demanded the countess. + </p> + <p> + “My place is here,” Hortensia explained. “Unless Mr. Caryll should, + himself, desire me to depart.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” he cried, and smiled upon her fondly—so fondly that the + countess's eyes grew wider. “With all my heart, I desire you to remain. It + is most fitting you should hear that which I have to say.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” demanded Rotherby, thrusting himself forward, and + scowling from one to the other of them. “What d'ye mean, Hortensia?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Mr. Caryll's betrothed wife,” she answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby's mouth fell open, but he made no sound. Not so her ladyship. A + peal of shrill laughter broke from her. “La! What did I tell you, + Charles?” Then to Hortensia: “I'm sorry for you, ma'am,” said she. “I + think ye've been a thought too long in making up your mind.” And she + laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Ostermore lies above stairs,” Hortensia reminded her, and her + ladyship went white at the reminder, the indecency of her laughter borne + in upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Would ye lesson me, girl?” she cried, as much to cover her confusion as + to vent her anger at the cause of it. “Ye've an odd daring, by God! Ye'll + be well matched with his impudence, there.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby, singularly self-contained, recalled her to the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Caryll is waiting,” said he, a sneer in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” she said, and flashing a last malignant glance upon Hortensia, + she sank to a chair beside her, but not too near her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll sat back, his legs crossed, his elbows on his chair-arms, his + finger-tips together. “The thing I have to tell you is of some gravity,” + he announced by way of preface. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby took a seat by the desk, his hand upon the treasonable letters. + “Proceed, sir,” he said, importantly. Mr. Caryll nodded, as in + acknowledgment of the invitation. + </p> + <p> + “I will admit, before going further, that in spite of the cheerful + countenance I maintained before your lordship's friend, the bumbailiff, + and your lackeys, I recognize that you have me in a very dangerous + position.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” from his lordship in a breath of satisfaction, and + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” from Hortensia in a gasp of apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship retained a stony countenance, and a silence that sorted + excellently with it. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” Mr. Caryll proceeded, marking off the points on his fingers, + “the incident at Maidstone; there is your ladyship's evidence that I was + the bearer of just such a letter on the day that first I came here; there + is the dangerous circumstance—of which Mr. Green, I am sure, will + not fail to make a deal—of my intimacy with Sir Richard Everard, and + my constant visits to his lodging, where I was, in fact, on the occasion + when he met his death; there is the fact that I committed upon Mr. Green + an assault with my snuff box for motives that, after all, admit of but one + acceptable explanation; and, lastly, there is the circumstance that, + apparently, if interrogated, I can show no good reason why I should be in + England at all, where no apparent interest has called me or keeps me. + </p> + <p> + “Now, these matters are so trivial that taken separately they have no + value whatever; taken conjointly, their value is not great; they do not + contain evidence enough to justify the hanging of a dog. And yet, I + realize that disturbed as the times are, fearful of sedition as the + government finds itself in consequence of the mischief done to public + credit by the South Sea disaster, and ready as the ministry is to see + plots everywhere and to make examples, pour discourager les autres, if the + accusation you intend is laid against me, backed by such evidence as this, + it is not impossible—indeed, it is not improbable—that it may—ah—tend + to shorten my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” sneered Rotherby, “I declare you should have been a lawyer. We + haven't a pleader of such parts and such lucidity at the whole bar.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll nodded his thanks. “Your praise is very flattering, my lord,” + said he, with a wry smile, and then proceeded: “It is because I see my + case to be so very nearly desperate, that I venture to hope you will not + persevere in the course you are proposing to adopt.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby laughed noiselessly. “Can you urge me any reasons why we + should not?” + </p> + <p> + “If you could urge me any reasons why you should,” said Mr. Caryll, “no + doubt I should be able to show you under what misapprehensions you are + laboring.” He shot a keen glance at his lordship, whose face had suddenly + gone blank. Mr. Caryll smiled quietly. “There is in this something that I + do not understand,” he resumed. “It does not satisfy me to suppose, as at + first might seem, that you are acting out of sheer malice against me. You + have scarcely cause to do that, my lord; and you, my lady, have none. That + fool Green—patience—he conceives that he has suffered at my + hands. But without your assistance Mr. Green would be powerless to hurt + me. What, then, is it that is moving you?” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looking from one to the other of his declared enemies. They + exchanged glances—Hortensia watching them, breathless, her own mind + working, too, upon this question that Mr. Caryll had set, yet nowhere + finding an answer. + </p> + <p> + “I had thought,” said her ladyship at last, “that you promised to tell us + something that it was in our interest to hear. Instead, you appear to be + asking questions.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll shifted in his chair. One glance he gave the countess, then + smiled. “I have sought at your hands the reasons why you should desire my + death,” said he slowly. “You withhold them. Be it so. I take it that you + are ashamed of them; and so, their nature is not difficult to conjecture.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—” began Rotherby, hotly, half-starting from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, let him trundle on, Charles,” said his mother. “He'll be the sooner + done.” + </p> + <p> + “Instead,” proceeded Mr. Caryll, as if there had been no interruption, “I + will now urge you my reasons why you should not so proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” snapped Rotherby. “They will need to be valid.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll twisted farther round, to face his lordship more fully. “They + are as valid,” said he very impressively—so impressively and sternly + that his hearers felt themselves turning cold under his words, filled with + some mysterious apprehension. “They are as valid as were my reasons for + holding my hand in the field out yonder, when I had you at the mercy of my + sword, my lord. Neither more nor less. From that, you may judge them to be + very valid.” + </p> + <p> + “But ye don't name them,” said her ladyship, attempting to conquer her + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do so,” said he, and turned again to his lordship. “I had no + cause to love you that morning, nor at any time, my lord; I had no cause + to think—as even you in your heart must realize, if so be that you + have a heart, and the intelligence to examine it—I had no cause to + think, my lord, that I should be doing other than a good deed by letting + drive my blade. That such an opinion was well founded was proven by the + thing you did when I turned my back upon you after sparing your useless + life.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby broke in tempestuously, smiting the desk before him. “If you + think to move us to mercy by such—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not to mercy would I move you,” said Mr. Caryll, his hand raised to + stay the other, “not to mercy, but to horror of the thing you + contemplate.” And then, in an oddly impressive manner, he launched his + thunderbolt. “Know, then, that if that morning I would not spill your + blood, it was because I should have been spilling the same blood that + flows in my own veins; it was because you are my brother; because your + father was my father. No less than that was the reason that withheld my + hand.” + </p> + <p> + He had announced his aim of moving them to horror; and it was plain that + he had not missed it, for in frozen horror sat they all, their eyes upon + him, their cheeks ashen, their mouths agape—even Hortensia, who from + what already Mr. Caryll had told her, understood now more than any of + them. + </p> + <p> + After a spell Rotherby spoke. “You are my brother?” he said, his voice + colorless. “My brother? What are you saying?” + </p> + <p> + And then her ladyship found her voice. “Who was your mother?” she + inquired, and her very tone was an insult, not to the man who sat there so + much as to the memory of poor Antoinette de Maligny. He flushed to the + temples, then paled again. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not name her to your ladyship,” said he at, last, in a cold, + imperious voice. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad ye've so much decency,” she countered. + </p> + <p> + “You mistake, I think,” said he. “'Tis respect for my mother that inspires + me.” And his green eyes flashed upon the painted hag. She rose up a very + fury. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying?” she shrilled. “D'ye hear the filthy fellow, + Rotherby? He'll not name the wanton in my presence out of respect for + her.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame, madam! You are speaking of his mother,” cried Hortensia, hot + with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! 'Tis all an impudent lie—a pack of lies!” cried Rotherby. + “He's crafty as all the imps of hell.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll rose. “Here in the sight of God and by all that I hold most + sacred, I swear that what I have said is true. I swear that Lord Ostermore—your + father—was my father. I was born in France, in the year 1690, as I + have papers upon me that will prove, which you may see, Rotherby.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship rose. “Produce them,” said he shortly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll drew from an inner pocket of his coat the small leather case + that Sir Richard Everard had given him. From this he took a paper which he + unfolded. It was a certificate of baptism, copied from the register of the + Church of St. Antoine in Paris. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby held out his hand for it. But Mr. Caryll shook his head. “Stand + here beside me, and read it,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Obeying him, Rotherby went and read that authenticated copy, wherein it + was declared that Sir Richard Everard had brought to the Church of St. + Antoine for baptism a male child, which he had declared to be the son of + John Caryll, Viscount Rotherby, and Antoinette de Maligny, and which had + received in baptism the name of Justin. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby drew away again, his head sunk on his breast. Her ladyship was + seated, her eyes upon her son, her fingers drumming absently at the arms + of her chair. Then Rotherby swung round again. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know that you are the person designated there—this Justin + Caryll?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not; but you may. Cast your mind back to that night at White's + when you picked your quarrel with me, my lord. Do you remember how + Stapleton and Collis spoke up for me, declared that they had known me from + boyhood at Oxford, and had visited me at my chateau in France? What was + the name of that chateau, my lord—do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby looked at him, searching his memory. But he did not need to + search far. At first glance the name of Maligny had seemed familiar to + him. “It was Maligny,” he replied, “and yet—” + </p> + <p> + “If more is needed to convince you, I can bring a hundred witnesses from + France, who have known me from infancy. You may take it that I can + establish my identity beyond all doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “And what if you do?” demanded her ladyship suddenly. “What if you do + establish your identity as my lord's bastard? What claim shall that be + upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “That, ma'am,” answered Mr. Caryll very gravely, “I wait to learn from my + brother here.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE LION'S SKIN + </h2> + <p> + For a spell there was utter silence in that spacious, pillared chamber. + Mr. Caryll and her ladyship had both resumed their chairs: the former + spuriously calm; the latter making no attempt to conceal her agitation. + Hortensia leant forward, an eager spectator, watching the three actors in + this tragicomedy. + </p> + <p> + As for Rotherby, he stood with bent head and furrowed brow. It was for him + to speak, and yet he was utterly at a loss for words. He was not moved at + the news he had received, so much as dismayed. It dictated a course that + would interfere with all his plans, and therefore a course unthinkable. So + he remained puzzled how to act, how to deal with this unexpected + situation. + </p> + <p> + It was her ladyship who was the first to break the silence. She had been + considering Mr. Caryll through narrowing eyes, the corners of her mouth + drawn down. She had caught the name of Maligny when it was uttered, and + out of the knowledge which happened to be hers—though Mr. Caryll was + ignorant of this—it set her thinking. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe that you are the son of Mademoiselle de Maligny,” she + said at last. “I never heard that my lord had a son; I cannot believe + there was so much between them.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stared, startled out of his habitual calm. Rotherby turned to + her with an exclamation of surprise. “How?” he cried. “You knew, then? My + father was—” + </p> + <p> + She laughed mirthlessly. “Your father would have married her had he + dared,” she informed them. “'Twas to beg his father's consent that he + braved his banishment and came to England. But his father was as + headstrong as himself; held just such views as he, himself, held later + where you were concerned. He would not hear of the match. I was to be had + for the asking. My father was a man who traded in his children, and he had + offered me, with a jointure that was a fortune, to the Earl of Ostermore + as a wife for his son.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll was listening, all ears. Some light was being shed upon much + that had lain in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” she proceeded, “your grandfather constrained your father to + forget the woman he had left in France, and to marry me. I know not what + sins I had committed that I should have been visited with such a + punishment. But so it befell. Your father resisted, dallying with the + matter for a whole year. Then there was a duel fought. A cousin of + Mademoiselle de Maligny's crossed to England, and forced a quarrel upon + your father. They met, and M. de Maligny was killed. Then a change set in + in my lord's bearing, and one day, a month or so later, he gave way to his + father's insistence, and we were wed. But I do not believe that my lord + had left a son in France—I do not believe that had he done so, I + should not have known it; I do not believe that under such circumstances, + unfeeling as he was, he would have abandoned Mademoiselle de Maligny.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then,” said Rotherby, “that this man has raked up this story + to—” + </p> + <p> + “Consider what you are saying,” cut in Mr. Caryll, with a flash of scorn. + “Should I have come prepared with documents against such a happening as + this?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, but the documents might have been intended for some other purpose + had my lord lived—some purpose of extortion,” suggested her + ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “But consider again, madam, that I am wealthy—far wealthier than was + ever my Lord Ostermore, as my friends Collis, Stapleton and many another + can be called to prove. What need, then, had I to extort?” + </p> + <p> + “How came you by your means, being what you say you are?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + Briefly he told her how Sir Richard Everard had cared for him, for his + mother's sake; endowed him richly upon adopting him, and since made him + heir to all his wealth, which was considerable. “And for the rest, madam, + and you, Rotherby, set doubts on one side. Your ladyship says that had my + lord had a son you must have heard of it. But my lord, madam, never knew + he had a son. Tell me—can you recall the date, the month at least, + in which my lord returned to England?” + </p> + <p> + “I can, sir. It was at the end of April of '89. What then?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll produced the certificate again. He beckoned Rotherby, and held + the paper under his eyes. “What date is there—the date of birth?” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby read: “The third of January of 1690.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll folded the paper again. “That will help your ladyship to + understand how it might happen that my lord remained in ignorance of my + birth.” He sighed as he replaced the case in his pocket. “I would he had + known before he died,” said he, almost as if speaking to himself. + </p> + <p> + And now her ladyship lost her temper. She saw Rotherby wavering, and it + angered her; and angered, she committed a grave error. Wisdom lay in + maintaining the attitude of repudiation; it would at least have afforded + some excuse for her and Rotherby. Instead, she now recklessly flung off + that armor, and went naked down into the fray. + </p> + <p> + “A fig for't all!” she cried, and snapped her fingers. She had risen, and + she towered there, a lean and malevolent figure, her head-dress nodding + foolishly. “What does it matter that you be what you claim to be? Is it to + weigh with you, Rotherby?” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby turned grave eyes upon her. He was, it seemed, not quite rotten + through and through; there was still in him—in the depths of him—a + core that was in a measure sound; and that core was reached. Most of all + had the story weighed with him because it afforded the only explanation of + why Mr. Caryll had spared his life that morning of the duel. It was a + matter that had puzzled him, as it had puzzled all who had witnessed the + affront that led to the encounter. + </p> + <p> + Between that and the rest—to say nothing of the certificate he had + seen, which he could not suppose a forgery—he was convinced that Mr. + Caryll was the brother that he claimed to be. He gathered from his + mother's sudden anger that she, too, was convinced, in spite of herself, + by the answers Mr. Caryll had returned to all her arguments against the + identity he claimed. + </p> + <p> + He hated Mr. Caryll no whit less for what he had learnt; if anything, he + hated him more. And yet a sense of decency forbade him from persecuting + him now, as he had intended, and delivering to the hangman. From ordinary + murder, once in the heat of passion—as we have seen—he had not + shrunk. But fratricide appeared—such is the effect of education—a + far, far graver thing, even though it should be indirect fratricide of the + sort that he had contemplated before learning that this man was his + brother. + </p> + <p> + There seemed to be one of two only courses left him: to provide Mr. Caryll + with the means of escape, or else to withhold such evidence as he intended + to supply against him, and to persuade—to compel, if necessary—his + mother to do the same. When all was said, his interests need not suffer + very greatly. His position would not be quite so strong, perhaps, if he + but betrayed a plot without delivering up any of the plotters; still, he + thought, it should be strong enough. His father dead, out of consideration + of the signal loyalty his act must manifest, he thought the government + would prove grateful and forbear from prosecuting a claim for restitution + against the Ostermore estates. + </p> + <p> + He had, then, all but resolved upon the cleaner course, when, suddenly, + something that in the stress of the moment he had gone near to + overlooking, was urged upon his attention. + </p> + <p> + Hortensia had risen and had started forward at her ladyship's last words. + She stood before his lordship now with pleading eyes, and hands held out. + “My lord,” she cried, “you cannot do this thing! You cannot do it!” + </p> + <p> + But instead of moving him to generosity, by those very words she steeled + his heart against it, and proved to him that, after all, his + potentialities for evil were strong enough to enable him to do the very + thing she said he could not. His brow grew black as midnight; his dark + eyes raked her face, and saw the agony of apprehension for her lover + written there. He drew breath, hissing and audible, glanced once at + Caryll; then: “A moment!” said he. + </p> + <p> + He strode to the door and called the footmen, then turned again. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Caryll,” he said in a formal voice, “will you give yourself the + trouble of waiting in the ante-room? I need to consider upon this matter.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll, conceiving that it was with his mother that Rotherby intended + to consider, rose instantly. “I would remind you, Rotherby, that time is + pressing,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not keep you long,” was Rotherby's cold reply, and Mr. Caryll + went out. + </p> + <p> + “What now, Charles?” asked his mother. “Is this child to remain?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the child that is to remain,” said his lordship. “Will your + ladyship do me the honor, too, of waiting in the ante-room?” and he held + the door for her. + </p> + <p> + “What folly are you considering?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship is wasting time, and time, as Mr. Caryll has said, is + pressing.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed to the door, controlled almost despite herself by the calm air + of purpose that was investing him. “You are not thinking of—” + </p> + <p> + “You shall learn very soon of what I am thinking, ma'am. I beg that you + will give us leave.” + </p> + <p> + She paused almost upon the threshold. “If you do a rashness, here, + remember that I can still act without you,” she reminded him. “You may + choose to believe that that man is your brother, and so, out of that, and”—she + added with a cruel sneer at Hortensia—“other considerations, you may + elect to let him go. But remember that you still have me to reckon with. + Whether he prove of your blood or not, he cannot prove himself of mine—thank + God!” + </p> + <p> + His lordship bowed in silence, preserving an unmoved countenance, + whereupon she cursed him for a fool, and passed out. He closed the door, + and turned the key, Hortensia watching him in a sort of horror. “Let me + go!” she found voice to cry at last, and advanced towards the door + herself. But Rotherby came to meet her, his face white, his eyes glowing. + She fell away before his opening arms, and he stood still, mastering + himself. + </p> + <p> + “That man,” he said, jerking a backward thumb at the closed door, “lives + or dies, goes free or hangs, as you shall decide, Hortensia.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, her face haggard, her heart beating high in her throat + as if to suffocate her. “What do you mean?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You love him!” he growled. “Pah! I see it in your eyes—in your + tremors—that you do. It is for him that you are afraid, is't not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you mock me with it?” she inquired with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mock you, Hortensia. Answer me! Is it true that you love him?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” she answered steadily. “What is't to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything!” he answered hotly. “Everything! It is Heaven and Hell to me. + Ten days ago, Hortensia, I asked you to marry me—” + </p> + <p> + “No more,” she begged him, an arm thrown out to stay him. + </p> + <p> + “But there is more,” he answered, advancing again. “This time I can make + the offer more attractive. Marry me, and Caryll is not only free to + depart, but no evidence shall be laid against him. I swear it! Refuse me, + and he hangs as surely—as surely as you and I talk together here + this moment.” + </p> + <p> + Cold eyes scathed him with contempt. “God!” she cried. “What manner of + monster are you, my lord? To speak so—to speak of marriage to me, + and to speak of hanging a man who is son to that same father of yours who + lies above stairs, not yet turned cold. Are you human at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—and in nothing so human as in my love for you, Hortensia.” + </p> + <p> + She put her hands to her face. “Give me patience!” she prayed. “The insult + of it after what has passed! Let me go, sir; open that door, and let me + go.” + </p> + <p> + He stood regarding her a moment, with lowering brows. Then he turned, and + went slowly to the door. “He dies, remember!” said he, and the words, the + sinister tone and the sinister look that was stamped upon his face, + shattered her spirit as at a blow. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she faltered, and advanced a step or two. “Oh, have pity!” + </p> + <p> + “When you show me pity,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She was beaten. “You—you swear to let him go—to see him safely + out of England—if—if I consent?” + </p> + <p> + His eyes blazed. He came back swiftly, and she stood, a frozen thing, + passively awaiting him; a frozen thing, she let him take her in his arms, + yielding herself in horrific surrender. + </p> + <p> + He held her close a moment, the blood surging to his face, and glowing + darkly through the swarthy skin. “Have I conquered, then?” he cried. + “You'll marry me, Hortensia?” + </p> + <p> + “At that price,” she answered piteously, “at that price.” + </p> + <p> + “Shalt find me a gentle, loving husband, ever. I swear it before Heaven!” + he vowed, the ardor of his passion softening his nature, as steel is + softened in the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Then be it so,” she said, and her tone was less cold, for she began to + glow, as it were, with the ardor of the sacrifice that she was making—began + to experience the exalted ecstasy of martyrdom. “Save him, and you shall + find me ever a dutiful wife to you, my lord—a dutiful wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And loving?” he demanded greedily. + </p> + <p> + “Even that. I promise it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + With a hoarse cry, he stooped to kiss her; then, with an oath, he checked, + and flung her from him so violently that she hurtled to a chair and sank + to it, overbalanced. “No,” he roared, like a mad thing now. “Hell and + damnation—no!” + </p> + <p> + A wild frenzy of jealousy had swept aside his tenderness. He was sick and + faint with the passion of it of this proof of how deeply she must love + that other man. He strove to control his violence. He snarled at her, in + his endeavors to subdue the animal, the primitive creature that he was at + heart. “If you can love him so much as that, he had better hang, I think.” + He laughed on a high, fierce note. “You have spoke his sentence, girl! + D'ye think I'd take you so—at second hand? Oh, s'death! What d'ye + deem me?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again—in his throat now, a quivering; half-sobbing laugh + of anger—and crossed to the door, her eyes following him, terrified; + her mind understanding nothing of this savage. He turned the key, and + flung wide the door with a violent gesture. “Bring him in!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + They entered—Mr. Caryll with the footmen at his heels, a frown + between his brows, his eyes glancing quickly and searchingly from Rotherby + to Hortensia. After him came her ladyship, no less inquisitive of look. + Rotherby dismissed the lackeys, and closed the door again. He flung out an + arm to indicate Hortensia. + </p> + <p> + “This little fool,” he said to Caryll, “would have married me to save your + life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll raised his brows. The words relieved his fears. “I am glad, + sir, that you perceive she would have been a fool to do so. You, I take + it, have been fool enough to refuse the offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you damned play-actor! Yes!” he thundered. “D'ye think I want + another man's cast-offs?” + </p> + <p> + “That is an overstatement,” said Mr. Caryll. “Mistress Winthrop is no + cast-off of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough said!” snapped Rotherby. He had intended to say much, to do some + mighty ranting. But before Mr. Caryll's cold half-bantering reduction of + facts to their true values, he felt himself robbed of words. “You hang!” + he ended shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're sure of that?” questioned Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “I would I were as sure of Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you may be—just about as sure,” Mr. Caryll rejoined, + entirely unperturbed, and he sauntered forward towards Hortensia. Rotherby + and his mother watched him, exchanging glances. + </p> + <p> + Then Rotherby shrugged and sneered. “'Tis his bluster,” said he. “He'll be + a farceur to the end. I doubt he's half-witted.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll never heeded him. He was bending beside Hortensia. He took her + hand, and bore it to his lips. “Sweet,” he murmured, “'twas a treason that + you intended. Have you, then, no faith in me? Courage, sweetheart, they + cannot hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + She clutched his hands, and looked up into his eyes. “You but say that to + comfort me!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” he answered gravely. “I tell you no more than what is true. They + think they hold me. They will cheat, and lie and swear falsely to the end + that they may destroy me. But they shall have their pains for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—depend upon that,” Rotherby mocked him. “Depend upon it—to + the gallows.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Caryll's curious eyes smiled upon his brother, but his lips were + contemptuous. “I am of your own blood, Rotherby—your brother,” he + said again, “and once already out of that consideration I have spared your + life—because I would not have a brother's blood upon my hands.” He + sighed, and continued: “I had hoped that you had enough humanity to do the + same. I deplore that you should lack it; but I deplore it for your own + sake, because, after all, you are my brother. Apart from that, it matters + nothing to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it matter nothing when you are proved a Jacobite spy?” cried her + ladyship, enraged beyond endurance by this calm scorn of them. “Will it + matter nothing when it is proved that you carried that letter, and would + have carried that other—that you were empowered to treat in your + exiled master's name? Will that matter nothing?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her an instant, then, as if utterly disdaining to answer her, + he turned again to Rotherby. “I were a fool and blind, did I not see to + the bottom of this turbid little puddle upon which you think to float your + argosies. You are selling me. You are to make a bargain with the + government to forbear the confiscations your father has incurred out of + consideration of the service you can render by disclosing this plot, and + you would throw me in as something tangible—in earnest of the others + that may follow. Have I sounded the depths of your intent?” + </p> + <p> + “And if you have—what then?” demanded sullen Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “This, my lord,” answered Mr. Caryll, and he quoted: “'The man that once + did sell the lion's skin while the beast lived, was killed with hunting + him. Remember that!”' + </p> + <p> + They looked at him, impressed by the ringing voice in which he had + spoken-a voice in which the ring was of mingled mockery and exultation. + Then her ladyship shook off the impression, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “With what d'ye threaten us?” she asked contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “I—threaten, ma'am? Nay, I am incapable of threatening. I do not + threaten. I have reasoned with you, exhorted you, shown you cause why, had + you one spark of decency left, you would allow me to depart and shield me + from the law you have invoked to ruin me. I have hoped for your own sakes + that you would be moved so to do. But since you will not—” He paused + and shrugged. “On your own heads be it.” + </p> + <p> + “On our own heads be what?” demanded Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head. “Did you know all, it might + indeed influence your decision; and I would not have that happen. You have + chosen, have you not, Rotherby? You will sell me; you will hang me—me, + your father's son. Poor Rotherby! From my soul I pity you!” + </p> + <p> + “Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue! Keep your pity for those that need + it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I offer it you, Rotherby,” said Mr. Caryll, almost sadly. “In + all my life, I have not met a man who stood more sorely in need of it, nor + am I ever like to meet another.” + </p> + <p> + There was a movement without, a tap at the door; and Humphries entered to + announce Mr. Green's return, accompanied by Mr. Second Secretary + Templeton, and without waiting for more, he ushered them into the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE HUNTERS + </h2> + <p> + To the amazement of them all, there entered a tall gentleman in a + full-bottomed wig, with a long, pale face, a resolute mouth, and a pair of + eyes that were keen, yet kindly. Close upon the heels of the second + secretary came Mr. Green. Humphries withdrew, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton made her ladyship a low bow. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said he very gravely, “I offer your ladyship—and you, my + lord—my profoundest condolence in the bereavement you have suffered, + and my scarcely less profound excuses for this intrusion upon your grief.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton may or may not have reflected that the grief upon which he + deplored his intrusion was none so apparent. + </p> + <p> + “I had not ventured to do so,” he continued, “but that your lordship + seemed to invite my presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Invited it, sir?” questioned Rotherby with deference. “I should scarcely + have presumed so far as to invite it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not directly, perhaps,” returned the second secretary. His was a deep, + rich voice, and he spoke with great deliberateness, as if considering well + each word before allowing it utterance. “Not directly, perhaps; but in + view of your message to Lord Carteret, his lordship has desired me to come + in person to inquire into this matter for him, before proceeding farther. + This fellow,” indicating Green, “brought information from you that a + Jacobite—an agent of James Stuart—is being detained here, and + that your lordship has a communication to make to the secretary of state.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby bowed his assent. “All I desired that Mr. Green should do + meanwhile,” said he, “was to procure a warrant for this man's arrest. My + revelations would have followed that. Has he the warrant?” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship may not be aware,” said Mr. Templeton, with an increased + precision of diction, “that of late so many plots have been disclosed and + have proved in the end to be no plots at all, that his lordship has + resolved to proceed now with the extremest caution. For it is not held + desirable by his majesty that publicity should be given to such matters + until there can be no doubt that they are susceptible to proof. Talk of + them is disturbing to the public quiet, and there is already disturbance + enough, as it unfortunately happens. Therefore, it is deemed expedient + that we should make quite sure of our ground before proceeding to + arrests.” + </p> + <p> + “But this plot is no sham plot,” cried Rotherby, with the faintest show of + heat, out of patience with the other's deliberateness. “It is a very real + danger, as I can prove to his lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “It is for the purpose of ascertaining that fact,” resumed the second + secretary, entirely unruffled, “for the purpose of ascertaining it before + taking any steps that would seem to acknowledge it, that my Lord Carteret + has desired me to wait upon you—that you may place me in possession + of the circumstances that have come to your knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby's countenance betrayed his growing impatience. “Why, for that + matter, it has come to my knowledge that a plot is being hatched by the + friends of the Stuart, and that a rising is being prepared, the present + moment being considered auspicious, while the people's confidence in the + government is shaken by the late South Sea Company disaster.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton wagged his head gently. “That, sir—if you will permit + the observation—is the preface of all the disclosures that have + lately been made to us. The consolation, sir, for his majesty's friends, + has been that in no case did the subsequent matter make that preface + good.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in that particular, then, that my disclosures shall differ from + those others,” said Rotherby, in a tone that caused Mr. Templeton + afterwards to describe him as “a damned hot fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “You have evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Documentary evidence. A letter from the Pretender himself amongst it.” + </p> + <p> + A becoming gravity overspread Mr. Templeton's clear-cut face. “That would + be indeed regrettable,” said he. It was plain that whatever the second + secretary might display when the plot was disclosed to him, he would + display none of that satisfaction upon which Rotherby had counted. “To + whom, sir, let me ask, is this letter indited?” + </p> + <p> + “To my late father,” answered his lordship. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton made an exclamation, whose significance was not quite clear. + </p> + <p> + “I have discovered it since his death,” continued Rotherby. “I was but in + time to wrest it from the hands of that spy of the Pretender's, who was in + the act of destroying it when I caught him. My devotion to his majesty + made my course clear, sir—and I desired Mr. Green to procure a + warrant for this traitor's arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Mr. Templeton, regarding him with an eye in which astonishment + was blent with admiration, “this is very loyal in you—very loyal + under the—ah—peculiar circumstances of the affair. I do not + think that his majesty's government, considering to whom this letter was + addressed, could have censured you even had you suppressed it. You have + conducted yourself, my lord—if I may venture upon a criticism of + your lordship's conduct—with a patriotism worthy of the best models + of ancient Rome. And I am assured that his majesty's government will not + be remiss in signifying appreciation of this very lofty loyalty of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Rotherby bowed low, in acknowledgment of the compliment. Her ladyship + concealed a cynical smile under cover of her fan. Mr. Caryll—standing + in the background beside Hortensia's chair—smiled, too, and poor + Hortensia, detecting his smile, sought to take comfort in it. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” interposed the countess, “is, I am sure, gratified to hear you + so commend his conduct.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton bowed to her with a great politeness. “I should be a stone, + ma'am, did I not signify my—ah—appreciation of it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a little more to follow, sir,” put in Mr. Caryll, in that quiet + manner of his. “I think you will find it blunt the edge of his lordship's + lofty loyalty—cause it to savor less like the patriotism of Rome, + and more like that of Israel.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton turned upon him a face of cold displeasure. He would have + spoken, but that whilst he was seeking words of a becoming gravity, + Rotherby forestalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he exclaimed, “what I did, I did though my ruin must have followed. + I know what this traitor has in mind. He imagines I have a bargain to + make. But you must see, sir, that in no sense is it so, for, having + already surrendered the facts, it is too late now to attempt to sell them. + I am ready to yield up the letters that I have found. No consideration + could induce me to do other; and yet, sir, I venture to hope that in + return, the government will be pleased to see that I have some claim upon + my country's recognition for the signal service I am rendering her—and + in rendering which I make a holocaust of my father's honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, surely, sir,” murmured Mr. Templeton, but his countenance told of + a lessening enthusiasm in his lordship's Roman patriotism. “Lord Carteret, + I am sure, would never permit so much—ah—devotion to his + majesty to go unrewarded.” + </p> + <p> + “I only ask, sir—and I ask it for the sake of my father's name, + which stands in unavoidable danger of being smirched—that no further + shame be heaped upon it than that which must result from the horror with + which the discovery of this plot will inspire all right-thinking + subjects.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll smiled and nodded. He judged in a detached spirit—a mere + spectator at a play—and he was forced to admit to himself that it + was subtly done of his brother, and showed an astuteness in this thing, at + least, of which he had never supposed him capable. + </p> + <p> + “There is, sir,” Rotherby proceeded, “the matter of my father's dealings + with the South Sea Company. He is no longer alive to defend himself from + the accusations—from the impeachment which has been levelled against + him by our enemy, the Duke of Wharton. Therefore, it might be possible to + make it appear as if his dealings were—ah—not—ah—quite + such as should befit an upright gentleman. There is that, and there is + this greater matter against him. Between the two, I should never again be + able to look my fellow-countrymen in the face. Yet this is the more + important since the safety of the kingdom is involved; whilst the other is + but a personal affair, and trivial by comparison. + </p> + <p> + “I will beg, sir, that out of consideration for my disclosing this + dastardly conspiracy—which I cannot do without disclosing my + father's misguided share in it—I will implore, sir, that out of that + consideration, Lord Carteret will see fit to dispose that the South Sea + Company affair is allowed to be forgotten. It has already been paid for by + my father with his life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton looked at the young man before him with eyes of real + commiseration. He was entirely duped, and in his heart he regretted that + for a moment he could have doubted Rotherby's integrity of purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “I offer you my sympathy—my profoundest sympathy; + and you, my lady. + </p> + <p> + “As for this South Sea Company affair, well—I am empowered by Lord + Carteret to treat only of the other matter, and to issue or not a warrant + for the apprehension of the person you are detaining, after I have + investigated the grounds upon which his arrest is urged. Nevertheless, + sir, I think I can say—indeed, I think I can promise—that in + consideration of your readiness to deliver up these letters, and provided + their nature is as serious as you represent, and also in consideration of + this, your most signal proof of loyalty, Lord Carteret will not wish to + increase the load which already you have to bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” cried Rotherby in the deepest emotion, “I have no words in + which to express my thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” put in Mr. Caryll, “words in which to express my admiration. A + most excellent performance, Rotherby. I had not credited you with so much + ability.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton frowned upon him again. “Ye betray a singular callousness, + sir,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir; not callousness. Merely the ease that springs from a tranquil + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship glanced across at him, and sneered audibly. “You hear the + poisonous traitor, sir. He glories in a tranquil conscience, in spite of + this murderous matter to which he stood committed.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby turned aside to take the letters from the desk. He thrust them + into Mr. Templeton's hands. “Here, sir, is a letter from King James to my + father, and here is a letter from my father to King James. From their + contents, you will gather how far advanced are matters, what devilries are + being hatched here in his majesty's dominions.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton received them, and crossed to the window that he might + examine them. His countenance lengthened. Rotherby took his stand beside + his mother's chair, both observing Mr. Caryll, who, in his turn, was + observing Mr. Templeton, a faint smile playing round the corners of his + mouth. Once they saw him stoop and whisper something in Hortensia's ear, + and they caught the upward glance of her eyes, half fear, half question. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Green, by the door, stood turning his hat in his hands, furtively + watching everybody, whilst drawing no attention to himself—a matter + in which much practice had made him perfect. + </p> + <p> + At last Templeton turned, folding the letters. “This is very grave, my + lord,” said he, “and my Lord Carteret will no doubt desire to express in + person his gratitude and his deep sense of the service you have done him. + I think you may confidently expect to find him as generous as you hope.” + </p> + <p> + He pocketed the letters, and raised a hand to point at Mr. Caryll. “This + man?” he inquired laconically. + </p> + <p> + “Is a spy of King James's. He is the messenger who bore my father that + letter from the Pretender, and he would no doubt have carried back the + answer had my father lived.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton drew a paper from his pocket, and crossed to the desk. He + sat down, and took up a quill. “You can prove this, of course?” he said, + testing the point of his quill upon his thumb-nail. + </p> + <p> + “Abundantly,” was the ready answer. “My mother can bear witness to the + fact that 'twas he brought the Pretender's letter, and there is no lack of + corroboration. Enough, I think, would be afforded by the assault made by + this rogue upon Mr. Green, of which, no doubt, you are already informed, + sir. His object—this proved object—was to possess himself of + those papers that he might destroy them. I but caught him in time, as my + servants can bear witness, as they can also bear witness to the + circumstance that we were compelled to force an entrance here, and to use + force to him to obtain the letters from him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton nodded. “'Tis a clear case, then,” said he, and dipped his + pen. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” put in Mr. Caryll, in an indolent, musing voice, “it might be + made to look as clear another way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton scowled at him. “The opportunity shall be afforded you,” + said he. “Meanwhile—what is your name?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll looked whimsically at the secretary a moment; then flung his + bomb. “I am Justin Caryll, Sixth Earl of Ostermore, and your very humble + servant, Mr. Secretary.” + </p> + <p> + The effect was ludicrous—from Mr. Caryll's point of view—and + yet it was disappointing. Five pairs of dilating eyes confronted him, five + gaping mouths. Then her ladyship broke into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The creature's mad—I've long suspected it.” And she meant to be + taken literally; his many whimsicalities were explained to her at last. He + was, indeed, half-witted, as he now proved. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton, recovering, smote the table angrily. He thought he had good + reason to lose his self-control on this occasion, though it was a matter + of pride with him that he could always preserve an unruffled calm under + the most trying circumstances. “What is your name, sir?” he demanded + again. + </p> + <p> + “You are hard of hearing, sir, I think. I am Lord Ostermore. Set down that + name in the warrant if you are determined to be bubbled by that fellow + there and made to look foolish afterwards with my Lord Carteret.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton sat back in his chair, frowning; but more from utter + bewilderment now than anger. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Mr. Caryll, “if I were to explain, it would help you to + see the imposture that is being practiced upon you. As for the allegations + that have been made against me—that I am a Jacobite spy and an agent + of the Pretender's—” He shrugged, and waved an airy hand. “I scarce + think there will remain the need for me to deny them when you have heard + the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby took a step forward, his face purple, his hands clenched. Her + ladyship thrust out a bony claw, clutched at his sleeve, and drew him back + and into the chair beside her. “Pho! Charles,” she said; “give the fool + rope, and he'll hang himself, never doubt it—the poor, witless + creature.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll sauntered over to the secretaire, and leaned an elbow on the + top of it, facing all in the room. + </p> + <p> + “I admit, Mr. Secretary,” said he, “that I had occasion to assault Mr. + Green, to the end that I might possess myself of the papers he was seeking + in this desk.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then—” began Mr. Templeton. + </p> + <p> + “Patience, sir! I admit so much, but I admit no more. I do not, for + instance, admit that the object—the object itself—of my search + was such as has been represented.” + </p> + <p> + “What then? What else?” growled Rotherby. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir—what else?” quoth Mr. Templeton. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Mr. Caryll, with a sorrowful shake of, the head, “I have + already startled you, it seems, by one statement. I beg that you will + prepare yourself to be startled by another.” Then he abruptly dropped his + languor. “I should think twice, sir,” he advised, “before signing that + warrant, were I in your place, to do so would be to render yourself the + tool of those who are plotting my ruin, and ready to bear false witness + that they may accomplish it. I refer,” and he waved a hand towards the + countess and his brother, “to the late Lord Ostermore's mistress and his + natural son, there.” + </p> + <p> + In their utter stupefaction at the unexpectedness and seeming wildness of + the statement, neither mother nor son could find a word to say. No more + could Mr. Templeton for a moment. Then, suddenly, wrathfully: “What are + you saying, sir?” he roared. + </p> + <p> + “The truth, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The truth?” echoed the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir—the truth. Have ye never heard of it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton sat back again. “I begin to think,” said he, surveying + through narrowing eyes the slender graceful figure before him, “that her + ladyship is right that you are mad; unless—unless you are mad of the + same madness that beset Ulysses. You remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us have done,” cried Rotherby in a burst of anger, leaping to his + feet. “Let us have done, I say! Are we to waste the day upon this Tom o' + Bedlam? Write him down as Caryll—Justin Caryll—'tis the name + he's known by; and let Green see to the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton made an impatient sound, and poised his pen. + </p> + <p> + “Ye are not to suppose, sir,” Mr. Caryll stayed him, “that I cannot + support my statements. I have by me proofs—irrefragable proofs of + what I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Proofs?” The word seemed to come from, every member of that little + assembly—if we except Mr. Green, whose face was beginning to betray + his uneasiness. He was not so ready as the others to believe, that Mr. + Caryll was mad. For him, the situation asked some other explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Ay—proofs,” said Mr. Caryll. He had drawn the case from his pocket + again. From this he took the birth-certificate, and placed it before Mr. + Templeton, “Will you glance at that, sir—to begin, with?—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton complied. His face became more and more grave. He looked at + Mr. Caryll; then at Rotherby, who was scowling, and at her ladyship, who + was breathing hard. His glance returned to Mr. Caryll. + </p> + <p> + “You are the person designated here?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “As I can abundantly prove,” said Mr. Caryll. “I have no lack of friends + in London who will bear witness to that much.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” said Mr. Templeton, frowning, perplexed, “this does not make you + what you claim to be. Rather does it show you to be his late lordship's—” + </p> + <p> + “There's more to come,” said Mr. Caryll, and placed another document + before the secretary. It was an extract from the register of St. Etienne + of Maligny, relating to his mother's death. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, sir, in what year this lady went through a ceremony of + marriage with my father—the late Lord Ostermore? It was in 1690, I + think, as the lady will no doubt confirm.” + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose, this?” quoth Mr. Templeton. + </p> + <p> + “The purpose will be presently apparent. Observe that date,” said Mr. + Caryll, and he pointed to the document in Mr. Templeton's hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton read the date aloud—“1692”—and then the name of + the deceased—“Antoinette de Beaulieu de Maligny. What of it?” he + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You will understand that when I show you the paper I took from this desk, + the paper that I obtained as a consequence of my violence to Mr. Green. I + think you will consider, sir, that if ever the end justified the means, it + did so in this case. Here was something very different from the paltry + matter of treason that is alleged against me.” + </p> + <p> + And he passed the secretary a third paper. + </p> + <p> + Over Mr. Templeton's shoulder, Rotherby and his mother, who—drawn by + the overpowering excitement that was mastering them—had approached + in silence, were examining the document with wide-open, startled eyes, + fearing by very instinct, without yet apprehending the true nature of the + revelation that was to come. + </p> + <p> + “God!” shrieked her ladyship, who took in the meaning of this thing before + Rotherby had begun to suspect it. “'Tis a forgery!” + </p> + <p> + “That were idle, when the original entry in the register is to be seen in, + the Church of St. Antoine, madam,” answered Mr. Caryll. “I rescued that + document, together with some letters which my mother wrote my father when + first he returned to England—and which are superfluous now—from + a secret drawer in that desk, an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” inquired Rotherby huskily. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the certificate of the marriage of my father, the late Lord + Ostermore, and my mother, Antoinette de Maligny, at the Church of St. + Antoine in Paris, in the year 1689.” He turned to Mr. Templeton. “You + apprehend the matter, sir?” he demanded, and recapitulated. “In 1689 they + were married; in 1692 she died; yet in 1690 his lordship went through a + form of marriage with Mistress Sylvia Etheridge, there.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton nodded very gravely, his eyes upon the document before him, + that they might avoid meeting at that moment the eyes of the woman whom + the world had always known as the Countess of Ostermore. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunate is it for me,” said Mr. Caryll, “that I should have possessed + myself of these proofs in time. Does it need more to show how urgent might + be the need for my suppression—how little faith can be attached to + an accusation levelled against me from such a quarter?” + </p> + <p> + “By God—” began Rotherby, but his mother clutched his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Be still, fool!” she hissed in his ear. She had need to keep her wits + about her, to think, to weigh each word that she might utter. An abyss had + opened in her path; a false step, and she and her son were irrevocably + lost—sent headlong to destruction. Rotherby, already reduced to the + last stage of fear, was obedient as he had never been, and fell silent + instantly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton folded the papers, rose, and proffered them to their owner. + “Have you any means of proving that this was the document you sought?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I can prove that it was the document he found.” It was Hortensia who + spoke; she had advanced to her lover's side, and she controlled her + amazement to bear witness for him. “I was present in this room when he + went through that desk, as all in the house know; and I can swear to his + having found that paper in it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton bowed. “My lord,” he said to Caryll, “your contentions + appear clear. It is a matter in which I fear I can go no further; nor do I + now think that the secretary of state would approve of my issuing a + warrant upon such testimony as we have received. The matter is one for + Lord Carteret himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do myself the honor of waiting upon his lordship within the + hour,” said the new Lord Ostermore. “As for the letter which it is alleged + I brought from France—from the Pretender,”—he was smiling now, + a regretful, deprecatory smile, “it is a fortunate circumstance that, + being suspected by that very man Green, who stands yonder, I was + subjected, upon my arrival in England, to a thorough search at Maidstone—a + search, it goes without saying, that yielded nothing. I was angry at the + time, at the indignity I was forced to endure. We little know what the + future may hold. And to-day I am thankful to have that evidence to rebut + this charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship is indeed to be congratulated,” Mr. Templeton agreed. “You + are thus in a position to clear yourself of even a shadow of suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” cried she who until that hour had been Countess of Ostermore, + turning fiercely upon Mr. Templeton. “You fool!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, this is not seemly,” cried the second secretary, with awkward + dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Seemly, idiot?” she stormed at him. “I swear, as I've a soul to be saved, + that in spite of all this, I know that man to be a traitor and a Jacobite—that + it was the letter from the king he sought, whatever he may pretend to have + found.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Templeton looked at her in sorrow, for all that in her overwrought + condition she insulted him. “Madam, you might swear and swear, and yet no + one would believe you in the face of the facts that have come to light.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe me?” she demanded angrily. + </p> + <p> + “My beliefs can matter nothing,” he compromised, and made her a + valedictory bow. “Your servant, ma'am,” said he, from force of habit. He + nodded to Rotherby, took up his hat and cane, and strode to the door, + which Mr. Green had made haste to open for him. From the threshold he + bowed to Mr. Caryll. “My lord,” said he, “I shall go straight to Lord + Carteret. He will stay for you till you come.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not keep his lordship waiting,” answered Caryll, and bowed in his + turn. + </p> + <p> + The second secretary went out. Mr. Green hesitated a moment, then abruptly + followed him. The game was ended here; it was played and lost, he saw, and + what should such as Mr. Green be doing on the losing side? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE LION + </h2> + <p> + The game was played and lost. All realized it, and none so keenly as + Hortensia, who found it in her gentle heart to pity the woman who had + never shown her a kindness. + </p> + <p> + She set a hand upon her lover's arm. “What will you do, Justin?” she + inquired in tones that seemed to plead for mercy for those others; for she + had not paused to think—as another might have thought—that + there was no mercy he could show them. + </p> + <p> + Rotherby and his mother stood hand in hand; it was the woman who had + clutched at her son for comfort and support in this bitter hour of + retribution, this hour of the recoil upon themselves of all the evil they + had plotted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll considered them a moment, his face a mask, his mind entirely + detached. They interested him profoundly. This subjugation of two natures + that in themselves were arrogant and cruel was a process very engrossing + to observe. He tried to conjecture what they felt, what thoughts they + might be harboring. And it seemed to him that a sort of paralysis had + fallen on their wits. They were stunned under the shock of the blow he had + dealt them. Anon there would be railings and to spare—against him, + against themselves, against the dead man above stairs, against Fate, and + more besides. For the present there was this horrid, almost vacuous calm. + </p> + <p> + Presently the woman stirred. Instinct—the instinct of the stricken + beast to creep to hiding—moved her, while reason was still bound in + lethargy. She moved to step, drawing at her son's hand. “Come, Charles,” + she said, in a low, hoarse voice. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + The touch and the speech awakened him to life. “No!” he cried harshly, and + shook his hand free of hers. “It ends not thus.” + </p> + <p> + He looked almost as he would fling himself upon his brother, his figure + erect now, defiant and menacing; his face ashen, his eyes wild. “It ends + not thus!” he repeated, and his voice rang sinister. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mr. Caryll agreed quietly. “It ends not thus.” + </p> + <p> + He looked sadly from son to mother. “It had not even begun thus, but that + you would have it so. You would have it. I sought to move you to mercy. I + reminded you, my brother, of the tie that bound us, and I would have + turned you from fratricide, I would have saved you from the crime you + meditated—for it was a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Fratricide!” exclaimed Rotherby, and laughed angrily. “Fratricide!” It + was as if he threatened it. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Caryll continued to regard him sorrowfully. From his soul he + pitied him; pitied them both—not because of their condition, but + because of the soullessness behind it all. To him it was truly tragic, + tragic beyond anything that he had ever known. + </p> + <p> + “You said some fine things, sir, to Mr. Templeton of your regard for your + father's memory,” said Mr. Caryll. “You expressed some lofty sentiments of + filial piety, which almost sounded true—which sounded true, indeed, + to Mr. Templeton. It was out of interest for your father that you pleaded + for the suppression of his dealings with the South Sea Company; not for a + moment did you consider yourself or the profit you should make from such + suppression.” + </p> + <p> + “Why this?” demanded the mother fiercely. “Do you rally us? Do you turn + the sword in the wound now that you have us at your mercy—now that + we are fallen?” + </p> + <p> + “From what are you fallen?” Mr. Caryll inquired. “Ah, but let that pass. I + do not rally, madam. Mockery is far indeed from my intention.” He turned + again to Rotherby. “Lord Ostermore was a father to you, which he never was + to me—knew not that he was. The sentiments you so beautifully + expressed to Mr. Templeton are the sentiments that actuate me now, though + I shall make no attempt to express them. It is not that my heart stirs + much where my Lord Ostermore is concerned. And yet, for the sake of the + name that is mine now, I shall leave England as I came—Mr. Justin + Caryll, neither more nor less. + </p> + <p> + “In the eyes of the world there is no slur upon my mother's name, because + her history—her supposed history—was unknown. See that none + ever falls on it, else shall you find me pitiless indeed. See that none + ever falls on it, or I shall return and drive home the lesson that, like + Antinous, you've learnt—that 'twixt the cup and lip much ill may + grow'—and turn you, naked upon a contemptuous world. Needs more be + said? You understand, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Rotherby understood nothing. But his mother's keener wits began to + perceive a glimmer of the truth. “Do you mean that—that we are to—to + remain in the station that we believed our own?” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him. Here was a generosity so weak, it seemed to her, as + almost to provoke her scorn. “You will leave your brother in possession of + the title and what else there may be?” + </p> + <p> + “You think me generous, madam,” said he. “Do not misapprehend me. I am + not. I covet neither the title nor estates of Ostermore. Their possession + would be a thorn in my flesh, a thorn of bitter memory. That is one reason + why you should not think me generous, though it is not the reason why I + cede them. I would have you understand me on this, perhaps the last time, + that we may meet. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Ostermore, my father, married you, madam, in good faith.” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted harshly. “What is't you say?” she almost screamed, + quivering with rage at the very thought of what her dead lord had done. + </p> + <p> + “He married you in good faith,” Mr. Caryll repeated quietly, impressively. + “I will make it plain to you. He married you believing that the girl-wife + he had left in France was dead. For fear it should come to his father's + knowledge, he kept that marriage secret from all. He durst not own his + marriage to his father.” + </p> + <p> + “He was not—as you may have appreciated in the years you lived with + him—a man of any profound feeling for others. For himself he had a + prodigiously profound feeling, as you may also have gathered. That + marriage in France was troublesome. He had come to look upon it as one of + his youth's follies—as he, himself, described it to me in this + house, little knowing to whom he spoke. When he received the false news of + her death—for he did receive such news from the very cousin who + crossed from France to avenge her, believing her dead himself—he + rejoiced at his near escape from the consequences of his folly. Nor was he + ever disabused of his error. For she had ceased to write to him by then. + And so he married you, madam, in good faith. That is the argument I shall + use with my Lord Carteret to make him understand that respect for my + father's memory urges me to depart in silence—save for what I must + have said to escape the impeachment with which you threatened me.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Carteret is a man of the world. He will understand the far-reaching + disturbance that must result from the disclosure of the truth of this + affair. He will pledge Mr. Templeton to silence, and the truth, madam, + will never be disclosed. That, I think, is all, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “By God, sir,” cried Rotherby, “that's damned handsome of you!” + </p> + <p> + “You epitomize it beautifully,” said Mr. Caryll, with a reversion to his + habitual manner. + </p> + <p> + His mother, however, had no words at all. She advanced a step towards Mr. + Caryll, put out her hands, and then—portent of portents!—two + tears were seen to trickle down her cheeks, playing havoc, ploughing + furrows in the paint that overlaid them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll stepped forward quickly. The sight of those tears, springing + from that dried-up heart—withered by God alone knew what blight—washing + their way down those poor bedaubed cheeks, moved him to a keener pity than + anything he had ever looked upon. He took her hands, and pressed them a + moment, giving way for once to an impulse he could not master. + </p> + <p> + She would have kissed his own in the abasement and gratitude of the + moment. But he restrained her. + </p> + <p> + “No more, your ladyship,” said he, and by thus giving her once more the + title she had worn, he seemed to reinstate her in the station from which + in self-defence he had pulled her down. “Promise that you'll bear no + witness against me should so much be needed, and I'll cry quits with you. + Without your testimony, they cannot hurt me, even though they were + disposed to do so, which is scarcely likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—sir—” she faltered brokenly. “Could you—could you + suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, no. So no more, ma'am. You do but harass yourself. Fare you well, + my lady. If I may trespass for a few moments longer upon the hospitality + of Stretton House, I'll be your debtor.” + </p> + <p> + “The house—and all—is yours, sir,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “There's but one thing in it that I'll carry off with me,” said he. He + held the door for her. + </p> + <p> + She looked into his face a moment. “God keep you!” said she, with a + surprising fervor in one not over-fluent at her prayers. “God reward you + for showing this mercy to an old woman—who does not deserve so + much.” + </p> + <p> + “Fare you well, madam,” he said again, bowing gravely. “And fare you well, + Lord Ostermore,” he added to her son. + </p> + <p> + His brother looked at him a moment; seemed on the point of speaking, and + then—taking his cue, no doubt, from his mother's attitude—he + held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Caryll took it, shook it, and let it go. After all, he bethought him, + the man was his brother. And if his bearing was not altogether cordial, it + was, at least, a clement imitation of cordiality. + </p> + <p> + He closed the door upon them, and sighed supreme relief. He turned to face + Hortensia, and a smile broke like sunshine upon his face, and dispelled + the serious gloom of his expression. She sprang towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Come now, thou chattel, that I am resolved to carry with me from my + father's house,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She checked in her approach. “'Tis not in such words that I'll be wooed,” + said she. + </p> + <p> + “A fig for words!” he cried. “Art wooed and won. Confess it.” + </p> + <p> + “You want nothing for self-esteem,” she informed him gravely. + </p> + <p> + “One thing, Hortensia,” he amended. “One thing I want—I lack—to + esteem myself greater than any king that rules.” + </p> + <p> + “I like that better,” she laughed, and suddenly she was in tears. “Oh, why + do you mock, and make-believe that your heart is on your lips and nowhere + else?” she asked him. “Is it your aim to be accounted trifling and shallow—you + who can do such things as you have done but now? Oh, it was noble! You + made me very proud.” + </p> + <p> + “Proud?” he echoed. “Ah! Then it must be that you are resolved to take + this impudent, fleering coxcomb for a husband,” he said, rallying her with + the words she had flung at him that night in the moonlit Croydon garden. + </p> + <p> + “How I was mistook in you!” quoth she. + </p> + <p> + He made philosophy. “'Tis ever those in whom we are mistook that are best + worth knowing,” he informed her. “The man or woman whom you can read at + sight, is read and done with.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you were not mistook in me,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” he answered, “for I deemed you woman.” + </p> + <p> + “What other have you found me?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + He flung wide his arms, and bade her into them. “Here to my heart,” he + cried, “and in your ear I'll whisper it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lion's Skin, by Rafael Sabatini + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S SKIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2702-h.htm or 2702-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/0/2702/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + +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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