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diff --git a/2702-0.txt b/2702-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d704a99 --- /dev/null +++ b/2702-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10319 @@ +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 + +Posting Date: July, 2001 +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 + + + + + +THE LION'S SKIN + +By Rafael Sabatini + + + + +I. THE FANATIC + +II. AT THE “ADAM AND EVE” + +III. THE WITNESS + +IV. Mr. GREEN + +V. MOONSHINE + +VI. HORTENSIA'S RETURN + +VII. FATHER AND SON + +VIII. TEMPTATION + +IX. THE CHAMPION + +X. SPURS TO THE RELUCTANT + +XI. THE ASSAULT-AT-ARMS + +XII. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + +XIII. THE FORLORN HOPE + +XIV. LADY OSTERMORE + +XV. LOVE AND RAGE + +XVI. Mr. GREEN EXECUTES HIS WARRANT + +XVII. AMID THE GRAVES + +XVIII. THE GHOST OF THE PAST + +XIX. THE END OF LORD OSTERMORE + +XX. Mr. CARYLL'S IDENTITY + +XXI. THE LION'S SKIN + +XXII. THE HUNTERS + +XXIII. THE LION + + + + +THE LION'S SKIN + + + +CHAPTER I. THE FANATIC + + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll turned slowly. “It is because I am the man that you--that God +and you--have made me that I do hesitate.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Whatever it may be,” said Mr. Caryll, “it will be better that I ponder +it now than after I have pledged myself.” + +“But what is it? What?” demanded the baronet. + +“I am marvelling, for one thing, that you should have waited thirty +years.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“There is a hell, we are told,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“And my father's, too,” answered Justin in a thick voice; “and the Earl +of Ostermore is that same father.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +And how had that friend used it? Most foully, as you shall learn. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll knit his brows, his eyes intent upon the other's face; but he +said no word. + +“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. + +“But how--how do we destroy him?” quoth Justin, who suspected yet dared +not encourage his suspicions. + +“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. + +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....” + +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.” + +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. + +“It is... ugly,” he said at last slowly. + +“It is God's own will,” was the hot answer, and Sir Richard smote the +table. + +“Has God taken you into His confidence?” wondered Mr. Caryll. + +“I know that God is justice.” + +“Yet is it not written that 'vengeance is His own'?” + +“Aye, but He needs human instruments to execute it. Such instruments are +we. Can you--Oh, can you hesitate?” + +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.” + +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! + +“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!” + +Then his voice dropped again, and in quieter tones + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“None has ever dared,” said Mr. Caryll. + +“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.” + +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. + +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?” + +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!” + +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?” + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“As I have a soul to be saved,” Sir Richard repeated. + +“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!” + +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. + +Sir Richard Everard watched with an eye of gloomy joy the man whom he +had been at such pains to school in self-control. + +Overhead there was a sudden crackle of thunder, sharp and staccato as a +peal of demoniac laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER II. AT THE “ADAM AND EVE” + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“A warm day, sir,” said the chubby man. + +Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely, and finished his glass, the other +sipping meanwhile at his ale. + +“A fine brew, sir,” said he. “A prodigious fine brew! With all respect, +sir, your honor should try a whet of our English ale.” + +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. + +The chubby man's face expressed astonishment. “Ye're English, sir! Ecod! +I had thought ye French!” + +“It is an honor, sir, that you should have thought me anything.” + +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. + +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.” + +“Ah!” sighed Mr. Green rapturously. “'Tis a great country, France; is it +not, sir?” + +“'Tis not the general opinion here at present. But I make no doubt that +it deserves your praise.” + +“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.” + +“Be there so?” quoth Mr. Caryll indifferently. + +“Ye don't agree with them, belike?” asked Mr. Green, with eagerness. + +“Pooh! Men will say anything,” Mr. Caryll replied, and added pointedly: +“Men will talk, ye see.” + +“Not always,” was the retort in a sly tone. “I've known men to be +prodigious short when they had aught to hide.” + +“Have ye so? Ye seem to have had a wide experience.” And Mr. Caryll +sauntered out, humming a French air through closed lips. + +Mr. Green looked after him with hardened eyes. He turned to the drawer +who stood by. “He's mighty close,” said he. “Mighty close!” + +“Ye're not perhaps quite the company he cares for,” the drawer suggested +candidly. + +Mr. Green looked at him. “Very like,” he snapped. “How long does he stay +here?” + +“Ye lost a rare chance of finding out when ye let him go without +inquiring,” said the drawer. + +Mr. Green's face lost some of its chubbiness. “When d'ye look to marry +the landlady?” was his next question. + +The man stared. “Cod!” said he. “Marry the--Are ye daft?” + +Mr. Green affected surprise. “I'm mistook, it seems. Ye misled me by +your pertness. Get me another nipperkin.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A knock fell upon his door, and the landlady came in. She was genial, +buxom and apple-faced, as becomes a landlady. + +“There is a gentleman below--” she was beginning, when Mr. Caryll +interrupted her. + +“I would rather that you told me of the lady,” said + +“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.” + +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.” + +“They send their compliments, and would be prodigiously obliged if you +was to give yourself the trouble of stepping below.” + +“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?” + +“I think they want you for a witness, sir.” + +“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.” + +“Oh, sir, nay!” she laughed. “'Tis a marriage they need you for.” + +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?” + +“He does not, sir; but I overheard it.” + +“Confide in me,” Mr. Caryll invited her. + +“He is a great gentleman,” she prepared him. + +“No matter. I love great gentlemen.” + +“They call him Lord Rotherby.” + +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. + +“Enough!” he said. “Who could deny his lordship?” + +“Shall I tell them you are coming?” she inquired, her hand already upon +the door. + +“A moment,” he begged, detaining her. “'Tis a runaway marriage this, +eh?” + +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. + +“And why, mistress,” he inquired, eying her, his fingers plucking at his +nether lip, “do they desire my testimony?” + +“His lordship's own man will stand witness, for one; but they'll need +another,” she explained, her voice reflecting astonishment at his +question. + +“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?” + +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.” + +“His lordship flatters me by this interest. My looks pleased him, let us +hope. And you answered him--what?” + +“That your honor is a gentleman newly crossed from France.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“You told him that, eh?” said he. “And what said his lordship then?” + +“He turned to the parson. 'The very man for us, Jenkins,' says he.” + +“And the parson--this Jenkins--what answer did he make?” + +“'Excellently thought,' he says, grinning.” + +“Hum! And you yourself, mistress, what inference did you draw?” + +“Inference, sir?” + +“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.” + +“Lard, sir!” cried the landlady, her eyes wide with astonishment. + +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.” + +“Your honor has his lordship's acquaintance, then?” quoth the landlady. + +“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.” + +As they were going out, Mr. Caryll checked suddenly. “Why, what's +o'clock?” said he. + +She stared, so abruptly came the question. “Past four, sir,” she +answered. + +He uttered a short laugh. “Decidedly,” said he, “his lordship must be +viewed at closer quarters.” And he led the way downstairs. + +In the passage he waited for her to come up with him. “You had best +announce me by name,” he suggested. “It is Caryll.” + +She nodded, and, going forward, threw open a door, inviting him to +enter. + +“Mr. Caryll,” she announced, obedient to his injunction, and as he went +in she closed the door behind him. + +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. + +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. + +“I thought,” was Rotherby's greeting, a note almost of irritation in his +voice, “that the woman said you were from France.” + +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. + +“I am from France, sir.” + +“But not French?” his lordship continued. + +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.” + +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. + +“Your words, sir, might be oddly interpreted. 'Pon honor, they might!” + said he, and laughed softly again with singular insolence. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You are desired,” his lordship informed him, “to be witness to a +marriage.” + +“So much the landlady had made known to me.” + +“It is not, I trust, a task that will occasion you any scruples.” + +“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. + +“Then we had best get on. We are in haste.” + +“'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. + +My lord laughed, musically enough, but overloud for a man of brains or +breeding. “Marry in haste, eh?” quoth he. + +“You are penetration itself,” Mr. Caryll praised him. + +“'Twill take a shrewd rogue to better me,” his lordship agreed. + +“Yet an honest man might worst you. One never knows. But the lady's +patience is being taxed.” + +It was as well he added that, for his lordship had turned with intent to +ask him what he meant. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE WITNESS + + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +“Ye've forgot something,” Mr. Caryll interrupted blandly. + +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. + +“Wha--what?” he stammered. “What have I forgot?” + +“To read the directions, I think.” + +His lordship scowled darkly upon Mr. Caryll, who heeded him not at all, +but watched the lady sideways. + +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. + +“'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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“We must begin again,” said Mr. Jenkins. And he began again. + +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. + +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. + +“There is something else ye've forgot,” said he in that sweet, quiet +voice of his. + +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. + +“I do not think you are civil,” said Mr. Caryll critically. “It was in +your interests that I spoke.” + +“Then I'll thank you, in my interests, to hold your tongue!” his +lordship stormed. + +“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.” + +“Now, what the devil may you mean by that?” demanded his lordship, +betraying himself more and more at every word. + +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. + +“The time of day,” Mr. Caryll replied, and watched the puzzled look that +came into both their faces. + +“Do ye deal in riddles with us?” quoth his lordship. “What have we to do +with the time of day?” + +“Best ask the parson,” suggested Mr. Caryll. + +Rotherby swung round again to Jenkins. Jenkins spread his hands in mute +bewilderment and distress. Mr. Caryll laughed silently. + +“I'll not be married! I'll not be married!” + +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. + +“Hoity-toity!” quoth his lordship, between petulance and simulated +amusement. “What's all the pother? Hortensia, dear--” + +“I'll not be married!” she repeated firmly, her wide brown eyes meeting +his in absolute defiance, head thrown back, face pale but fearless. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“You take a deal upon yourself, sir,” said he menacingly. + +“A deal of what?” wondered Mr. Caryll blandly. + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Sir!” blazed Rotherby at last, breaking in upon his denunciation, hand +clapped to sword. “Do ye dare use such words to me?” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“You shall moderate your tones, sir--” began his lordship in a snarl. + +“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?” + +“So much was not needed,” said she, “though I am your debtor, sir.” + +Her voice was marvelously steady, ice-cold with scorn, a royal anger +increasing the glory of her eyes. + +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.” + +“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. + +His lordship frowned inquiry. “And who may those be?” + +“Most decent folk, I should conceive, if this be an example of your +ways.” + +“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.” + +“It will be interesting,” said Mr. Caryll, and meant it. + +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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“I thought you desired me for a witness,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + +“I did, let me perish!” said Rotherby. “And I wish to the devil I had +bit my tongue out first.” + +“The loss to eloquence had been irreparable,” sighed Mr. Caryll, his +eyes upon a beam of the ceiling. + +Rotherby stared and choked. “Is there no sense in you, you gibbering +parrot?” he inquired. “What are you--an actor or a fool?” + +“A gentleman, I hope,” said Mr. Caryll urbanely. “What are you?” + +“I'll learn you,” said his lordship, and plucked at his sword. + +“I see,” said Mr. Caryll in the same quiet voice that thinly veiled his +inward laughter--“a bully!” + +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. + +Rotherby stretched out to lunge, murder in his inflamed eyes. “I'll +silence you, you--” + +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. + +“You dog!” said the lady's voice, strident now with anger and disdain. +She had his sword. + +He faced about with a horrible oath. Mr. Caryll conceived that he was +becoming a thought disgusting. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Take me away, sir! Take me away,” she begged him. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +Mr. Caryll staggered and recovered himself. It had been indeed a +staggering shock; for here, of course, was his own father, too. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. Mr. GREEN + + +There was a quick patter of feet, the rustle of a hooped petticoat, and +the lady was in the arms of my Lord Ostermore. + +“Forgive me, my lord!” she was crying. “Oh, forgive me! I was a little +fool, and I have been punished enough already!” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +“'Tis such a reversing of the usual order of things that it calls for +wonder,” said Mr. Caryll. + +“Eh?” quoth his lordship. “Who the devil are you? One of his friends?” + +“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. + +It was Hortensia--a very tearful Hortensia now who explained. “This +gentleman saved me, my lord,” she said. + +“Saved you?” quoth he dully. “How did he come to save you?” + +“He discovered the parson,” she explained. + +The earl looked more and more bewildered. “Just so,” said Mr. Caryll. +“It was my privilege to discover that the parson is no parson.” + +“The parson is no parson?” echoed his lordship, scowling more and more. +“Then what the devil is the parson?” + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Your lordship had threatened to disinherit me if I married her,” said +Rotherby. + +“'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!” + +“Take me away, my lord,” Hortensia begged him, touching his arm. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +The earl waved a silencing hand, and turned with dignity to Hortensia. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Sh! You blubbering fool!” he snapped in his ear. “My business is not +with you. Lie still!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Is your name Caryll, sir?” quoth the earl. He had a trick of fastening +upon the inconsequent, though that was scarcely the case now. + +“That, my lord, is my name. I believe I have the honor of sharing it +with your lordship.” + +“Ye'll belong to some younger branch of the family,” the earl supposed. + +“Like enough--some outlying branch,” answered the imperturbable +Caryll--a jest which only himself could appreciate, and that bitterly. + +“And how came you into this?” + +Rotherby sneered audibly--in self-mockery, no doubt, as he came to +reflect that it was he, himself, had had him fetched. + +“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--” + +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.” + +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! + +“Were you, by any chance, going to seek me in town, Mr. Caryll?” + +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. + +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. + +But Rotherby laughed aloud. “Now what a plague is all this mystery?” he +inquired. + +“Mystery?” quoth my lord. “What mystery should there be?” + +“'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--” + +“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!” + +“Not so fast! Not so fast, ecod!” + +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. + +They beheld a plump, chubby-faced little man, astride the sill, a pistol +displayed with ostentation in his hand. + +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.” + +“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. + +“Sir,” blustered the earl, “this is an intrusion; an impertinence. What +do you want?” + +“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. + +“Ye're rightly served for meddling,” said he with relish. + +“Out with them,” the chubby man demanded. “Ye'll gain nothing by +resistance. So don't be obstinate, now.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll looked him over with an amused eye, and laughed. “It +distresses me,” said he, “to see so much good thought wasted.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“You go too far, sir,” blustered the earl. + +“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.” + +Mr. Green leered again, and produced a paper. “There,” said he, “is my +Lord Carteret's warrant, signed and sealed.” + +Mr. Caryll glanced over it with a disdainful eye. “It is in blank,” said +he. + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll shrugged his shoulders. “It might be well,” said he, “if you +are to search me at all.” + +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. + +“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. + +Hortensia, Mr. Caryll observed, watched his cowardly yielding with an +eye of stern contempt. Rotherby looked on with a dark face that betrayed +nothing. + +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. + +“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?” + +“Heyday! 'Tis an occupation to which I have succumbed in moments of +weakness. I crave your indulgence, Mr. Green.” + +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. + +“D'ye think ye can bubble me?'” he cried, red in the face. + +Lord Ostermore heaved a sigh of relief; the hard look had faded from +Hortensia's eyes. + +“What is't ye mean, giving me this rubbish?” + +“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--” + +Mr. Green struck an attitude. “Now attend to me, sir! I am a servant of +His Majesty's Government.” + +“His Majesty's Government cannot be sufficiently congratulated,” said +Mr. Caryll, the irrepressible. + +Mr. Green banged the table. “Are ye rallying me, ecod!” + +“You have upset the ink,” Mr. Caryll pointed out to him. + +“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?” + +“You asked me to turn out my pockets.” + +“I asked you for the letter ye have brought Lord Ostermore.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Green eyed him blankly a moment; then exploded. “Ecod, sir! You are +cool.” + +“It is a condition we do not appear to share.” + +“D'ye say ye've brought his lordship no letter from France?” thundered +the spy. “What else ha' ye come to England for?” + +“To study manners, sir,” said Mr. Caryll, bowing. + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“To me?” roared Green. “I represent the Secretary of State.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“What concern may that be of yours, sirrah?'' + +“It will be some concern of yours, my lord.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I have no cause to arrest you until I find it,” Mr. Green snapped +impatiently. + +“Your logic is faultless.” + +“I am following my Lord Carteret's orders to the letter. I am to effect +no arrest until I have positive evidence.” + +“Yet you are detaining me. What does this amount to but an arrest?” + +Mr. Green disdained to answer. Leduc entered, and Mr. Caryll turned to +Lord Ostermore. + +“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. + +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. + +“We will wait,” she said. “Since you are travelling to town, I am sure +his lordship will be glad of your company, sir.” + +Mr. Caryll looked deep into those great brown eyes, and bowed his +thanks. “If it will not discompose your lordship--” + +“No, no,” said Ostermore, gruff of voice and manner. “We will wait. I +shall be honored, sir, if you will journey with us afterwards.” + +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. + +“Do we require this gentleman?” he asked the spy. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Ye're welcome to all that ye can find,” sneered Mr. Green, and turned +to Mr. Caryll. “Let us have your shoes, sir.” + +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. + +“Your breeches now,” said he laconically. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Are you satisfied?” inquired Mr. Caryll pleasantly, his good temper +inexhaustible. + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Green considered him again. “If you had it, it would be upon your +person.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“By all means. Leduc, I beg that you will place yourself at this +interesting gentleman's disposal.” + +What time Mr. Caryll, unaided now, completed the resumption of his +garments, Leduc, silent and expressionless, submitted to being searched. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Rotherby had drawn himself up, his dark face crimsoning. + +“D'ye talk at me, sir?” he demanded. “D'ye dare discuss me with your +lackey?” + +“But why not, since you search me with my tipstaff! If you can perceive +a difference, you are too subtle for me, sir.” + +Rotherby advanced a step; then checked. He inherited mental sluggishness +from his father. “You are insolent!” he charged Caryll. “You insult me.” + +“Indeed! Ha! I am working miracles.” + +Rotherby governed his anger by an effort. “There was enough between us +without this,” said he. + +“There could not be too much between us--too much space, I mean.” + +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.” + +“Leduc, I am sure, will always be pleased to see you. He, too, is +studying manners.” + +Rotherby ignored the insult. “We shall see, then, whether you can do +anything more than talk.” + +“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.” + +“Bah!” his lordship flung at him, and went out, cursing him profusely, +Gaskell following at his master's heels. + + + + +CHAPTER V. MOONSHINE + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“What was it drove you to this?” + +She turned upon him almost fiercely. “My Lady Ostermore,” she answered +him. + +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? + +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. + +Hortensia, however, felt that she had said too much not to say more. + +“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.” + +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!” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Her ladyship is a little hot,” the earl admitted, “but a good heart; +'tis an excellent heart, Hortensia.” + +“For hating-ay, my lord.” + +“Nay, plague on't! That's womanish in you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!” + +“What else would you have a woman? Mannish and raffish, like my Lady +Ostermore?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Indeed, you talk a deal,” said his lordship peevishly. But she did not +heed the sarcasm. + +“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--” + +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. + +“But--but--in that case--Oh, the damned villain!--why this mock-parson?” + +“Does your lordship not perceive? Must I die of shame? Do you not see?” + +“See? No!” He was thoughtful a second; then repeated, “No!” + +“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.” + +My lord swore strenuously. “There is a punishment for such a crime as +this.” + +“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.” + +My lord swore again. “He shall be punished,” he declared emphatically. + +“No doubt. God will see to that,” she said, a world of faith in her +quivering voice. + +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!” + +“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. + +“Mr. Caryll! Save us! What is keeping him?” he cried. “Can they--can +they--” + +The door opened, and Mr. Caryll walked in, ushered by the hostess. Both +turned to confront him, Hortensia's eyes swollen from her weeping. + +“Well?” quoth his lordship. “Did they find nothing?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“But then, sir?” quoth his lordship. “But then--are you the bearer of no +letter?” + +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.” + +Between the wink and the words his lordship was bewildered. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“That is a sweet courtesy in you.” + +“I am compounded of sweet courtesy,” he informed her modestly. + +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. + +They set out soon afterwards, Mr. Caryll travelling in his lordship's +chaise, and Leduc following in his master's. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“I had already judged you to be an exceptional woman,” Mr. Caryll +commented softly. + +She mused an instant. “Are you never serious?” she asked him. + +“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?” + +“Is there in life nothing but amusement?” + +“Oh, yes--but nothing so vital. I speak with knowledge. The gift of +laughter has been my salvation.” + +“From what, sir?” + +“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.” + +“The bitterness of your words belies their purport.” + +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.” + +She moved a little, and he fell into step beside her. A little while +there was silence. + +Presently--“You find me, no doubt, as amusing as any other of your human +worms,” said she. + +“God forbid!” he answered soberly. + +She laughed. “You make an exception in my case, then. That is a subtle +flattery!” + +“Have I not said that I had judged you to be an exceptional woman?” + +“Exceptionally foolish, not a doubt.” + +“Exceptionally beautiful; exceptionally admirable,” he corrected. + +“A clumsy compliment, devoid of wit!” + +“When we grow truthful, it may be forgiven us if we fall short of wit.” + +“That were an argument in favor of avoiding truth.” + +“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.” + +“I desired to know--Nay, but I have asked you already. I desired to know +did you deem me a very pitiful little fool?” + +They had reached the privet hedge, and turned. They paused now before +resuming their walk. He paused, also, before replying. Then: + +“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?” + +“What if so?” + +“After what you have learned, I should account you still less wise.” + +“You are impertinent, sir,” she reproved him. + +“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?” + +“I did not crave your absolution. You take too much upon yourself.” + +“So said Lord Rotherby. You seem to have something in common when all is +said.” + +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. + +“How is that possible, when, already I think I love you.” + +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?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“I a'n't sure. There have been moments when I have almost feared it. +This is not one of them.” + +“You wish me to think you serious?” She laughed a thought stridently in +her indignation. “I have known you just four hours,” said she. + +“Precisely the time I think I have loved you.” + +“You think?” she echoed scornfully. “Oh, you make that reservation! You +are not quite sure?” + +“Can we be sure of anything?” he deprecated. + +“Of some things,” she answered icily. “And I am sure of one--that I am +beginning to understand you.” + +“I envy you. Since that is so, help me--of your charity!--to understand +myself.” + +“Then understand yourself for an impudent, fleering coxcomb,” she flung +at him, and turned to leave him. + +“That is not explanation,” said Mr. Caryll thoughtfully. “It is mere +abuse.” + +“What else do you deserve?” she asked him over her shoulder. “That you +should have dared!” she withered him. + +“To love you quite so suddenly?” he inquired, and misquoted: “'Whoever +loved at all, that loved not at first sight?' Hortensia!” + +“You have not the right to my name, sir.” + +“Yet I offer you the right to mine,” he answered, with humble reproach. + +“You shall be punished,” she promised him, and in high dudgeon left him. + +“Punished? Oh, cruel! Can you then be-- + + “'Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee? + Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, + For proffered love will love repay.”' + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. HORTENSIA'S RETURN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“'Woman is a fair image in a pool; who leaps at it is sunk.'” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +She swept into the room like a battleship into action, and let fly her +first broadside at Mistress Winthrop from the threshold. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“There was my duty to her father, to say aught of--” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll made her a profound bow. Her ladyship retorted with a sniff. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then,” were her first, uncompromising +words to the guest. + +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. + +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?” + +“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. + +“Will you answer me so, sir?” she demanded, nevertheless, her voice +quivering. + +“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.” + +“Saved the drab, did he? And from what, pray?” + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Am I?” + +“My love! Was it suggested?” + +“I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel! Oh, Hortensia is not to blame, +the sweet, pure dove! What is she, then?” + +“To be pitied, ma'am,” said his lordship, stirred to sudden anger, “that +she should have lent an ear to your disreputable son.” + +“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?” + +“There are moments,” he answered hardily, “when I find it difficult to +believe.” + +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!” + +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?” + +“My lord! Oh, my lord, give me leave to go,” Hortensia entreated. + +“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?” + +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?” + +“I do not want a husband, madam,” answered Hortensia. + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“Indeed it was, ma'am--and a most fortunate accident for your son.” + +“For my son? As how?” + +“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. + +“Hang?” she gasped. “Are you speaking of Lord Rotherby?” + +“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.” + +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!” + +“Surely, my love, you do not apprehend. Had Lord Rotherby's parson not +been detected and unmasked by Mr. Caryll, here--” + +“Would you ha' me believe she did not know the fellow was no parson?” + +“Oh!” cried Hortensia. “Your ladyship has a very wicked soul. May God +forgive you!” + +“And who is to forgive you?” snapped the countess. + +“I need no forgiveness, for I have done no wrong. A folly, I confess to. +I was mad to have heeded such a villain.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She looked at this smooth gentleman, and his words burned themselves +into her brain. She quivered with mingling fear and anger. + +“Wha'--what is't ye mean?” quoth she. + +“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.” + +Her jaw fell. She caught more than an admonition in his words. It almost +seemed to her that he was threatening. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Damn the servants!” she swore, dismissing them from consideration. “Who +is this messenger of the secretary's? Who is he?” + +“He was named Green. 'Tis all I know.” + +“And where may he be found?” + +“I cannot say.” + +She turned to Lord Ostermore. “Where is Rotherby?” she inquired. She was +a thought breathless. + +“I do not know,” said he, in a voice that signified how little he cared. + +“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.” + +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.” + +And she swept out, slamming the door violently after her. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. FATHER AND SON + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Do you look to make a long sojourn in England, Mr. Caryll?” + +“It will depend,” was the vague and half-unconscious answer, “upon the +success of the matter I am come to transact.” + +There ensued a brief pause, during which Mr. Caryll fell again into his +abstraction. + +“Where do you dwell when in France, sir?” inquired my lord, as if to +make polite conversation. + +Mr. Caryll lulled by his musings into carelessness, answered truthfully, +“At Maligny, in Normandy.” + +The next moment there was a tinkle of breaking glass, and Mr. Caryll +realized his indiscretion and turned cold. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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?” + +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.” + +Mr. Caryll accounted it no lie that he suppressed the fact that the +father to whom he referred was but his father by adoption. + +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. + +“What is odd?” inquired Mr. Caryll. “Does it happen that your lordship +was acquainted at any time with that vanished family?” + +“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.” + +“True--yet I see nothing so oddly coincident in the matter, particularly +if your acquaintance with these Malignys was but slight.” + +“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.” + +“A folly?” quoth Mr. Caryll, his eyebrows raised. + +“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.” + +“A greater than your lordship?” inquired Mr. Caryll blandly, masking the +rage that seethed in him. + +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.” + +“Who died?” asked Mr. Caryll, with a show of interest. + +“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?” + +“The Gordian knot?” suggested Mr. Caryll. + +“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. + +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. + +“To turn to other matters,” said he; “there is the letter you were +expecting from abroad.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“Gad!” cried his lordship. “Gad! 'Twas thus ye bubbled Mr. Green? +Shrewd, on my soul. And you are the messenger, then?” + +“I am the messenger,” answered Mr. Caryll coldly. + +“And why did you not say so before?” + +For the fraction of a second Mr. Caryll hesitated. Then: “Because I did +not judge that the time was come,” said he. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. TEMPTATION + + +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. + +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. + +“I think,” he said, “that we shall be more snug in the library. Will you +bear me company, Mr. Caryll?” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Fully, my lord,” answered Mr. Caryll, “and I venture to hope that his +majesty's promises will overcome any hesitation that you may feel.” + +“His majesty's promises?” said my lord thoughtfully. “His majesty may +never have a chance of fulfilling them.” + +“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.” + +The earl scanned him in surprise. “You are excellent well informed,” + said he, between surprise and irony. + +“My trade demands it. Knowledge is my buckler.” + +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. + +“Has your lordship anything else to stake?” inquired Mr. Caryll. + +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.” + +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!” + +“Boldness is the attribute next to knowledge most essential to my +calling,” Mr. Caryll reminded him. + +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--” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +His lordship's eyes dropped to the letter again. He caught his breath in +sudden fear. + +“Were I your lordship, I should leave the nearest justice to enjoy his +dinner in peace,” said Mr. Caryll, smiling. + +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.” + +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. + +“I must sleep on't, at least,” his lordship was continuing. “'Tis too +grave a matter to be determined thus in haste.” + +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. + +“Ah!” said he. “Here is her ladyship returned.” + +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. + +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. + +“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?”' + +“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. + +“Devil take it, whatever it may be! Rotherby is here.” + +“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?” + +“I brought him,” she answered pregnantly. + +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!” + +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!” + +“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. + +“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. + +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?” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“He means it,”' said he. “He never loved me. He was never a father to +me.” + +“Were you ever greatly a son to him?” asked her ladyship. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“Bah! Green was there on other business.” And he told her of the +suspicions the messenger entertained against Mr. Caryll. + +It set her ladyship thinking. “Why,” she said presently, “'twill be +that!” + +“'Twill be what, ma'am?” asked Rotherby, looking up. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Cause? Why, what I have seen. Besides, I feel it in my bones. My every +instinct tells me 'tis so.” + +“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.” + +Her ladyship stared at him. “Ye're an unnatural hound, Rotherby. Would +ye betray your own father?” + +“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?” + +“How shall it matter to you, since he's sworn to disinherit you?” + +“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.” + +“What will you do?” she asked, a slight anxiety trembling in her voice. + +“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.” + +“But you'll do nothing that--that will hurt your father?” she enjoined +him, her hand upon his shoulder. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE CHAMPION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +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.” + +“'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.” + +“'Tis false, madam,” said Hortensia, with indignation. “Your ladyship +knows it to be false.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Madam,” murmured the girl, in her agony of shame, “we were not +well-advised to come. Will not your ladyship turn back?” + +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.” + +“'Tis not the sun I mind, madam,” said Hortensia, but received no +answer. Perforce she must pace on beside her ladyship. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.) + +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!” + +Lady Mary turned with the others to look in the direction he was +pointing--pointing openly, with no thought of dissembling. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“Oh, 'tis shameful!” she cried. “Will you not go speak with her, Molly?” + +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.” + +“'Tis bad enough, I vow,” laughed an old beau, who sought fame as a man +of a cynical turn of humor. + +“But fortunately rare,” said Mr. Caryll dryly. “Like charity, almost +unknown in this Babylon.” + +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. + +“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: + + “Souvent femme varie, + Bien, fol est qui s'y fie!” + +and laughed his prodigious delight at the aptness of his quotation. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“Sir--sir--” spluttered the poetaster, crimson with anger and +mortification. “Is this--is this--seemly--between gentlemen?” + +“Between gentlemen it would not be seemly,” Mr. Caryll agreed. + +Mr. Craske, quivering, yet controlling himself, bowed stiffly. “I have +too much respect for myself--” he gasped. + +“Ye'll be singular in that, no doubt,” said Mr. Caryll, and turned his +shoulder upon him. + +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.” + +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. + +“Oh, 'twas cruel in you, sir,” she cried. “Poor Mr. Craske! And to dub +him plagiarist! 'Twas the unkindest cut of all!” + +“Truth, madam, is never kind.” + +“Oh, fie! You make bad worse!” she cried. + +“He'll put you in the pillory of his verse for this,” laughed Collis. +“Ye'll be most scurvily lampooned for't.” + +“Poor Mr. Craske!” sighed the Lady Mary again. + +“Poor, indeed; but not in the sense to deserve pity. An upstart impostor +such as that to soil a lady with his criticism!” + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +She knit her fine brows, bewildered. + +“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.” + +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? + +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.” + +“As--as how?” she asked, blinking up at him. + +The others stood at gaze, scarce yet suspecting the drift of so much +talk. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“And why not, sir?” she demanded, now thoroughly aroused. + +“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.” + +She frowned upon him now, so excellently had he done his work. “Why +should you have feared that?” + +“Alas! I am a man of little faith--unworthy, indeed, your good opinion +since I entertained a doubt. It was a blasphemy.” + +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. + +Sir Harry obeyed her readily, but without eagerness. In his heart he +cursed his friend Caryll for having set her on to this. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Thus they reached the countess, the countess standing very rigid in her +amazement, to receive them. + +“I hope I see your ladyship well,” said Lady Mary. + +“I hope your ladyship does,” answered the countess tartly. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“'Tis but a distinction,” put in Mr. Caryll suggestively. + +“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. + +Mistress Winthrop looked up an instant, then down again; it was a +piteous, almost a pleading glance. + +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. + +“I have long desired the pleasure of your acquaintance,” said she. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I could have chosen no better season,” she replied, “to mark my scorn +of evil tongues and backbiters.” + +Color stained Hortensia's cheek again; gratitude glowed in her eyes. +“You are very noble, madam,” she answered with flattering earnestness. + +“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. + +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. + +“Oh, heart of stone!” said he at last. “Am I not yet forgiven?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You have not answered my question,” she reminded him. + +“Nor you mine,” said he. “I asked you am I not yet forgiven.” + +“Forgiven what?” + +“For being born an impudent, fleering coxcomb--twas that you called me, +I think.” + +She flushed deeply. “If you would win forgiveness, you should not remind +me of the offence,” she answered low. + +“Nay,” he rejoined, “that is to confound forgiveness with forgetfulness. +I want you to forgive and yet to remember.” + +“That were to condone.” + +“What else? 'Tis nothing less will satisfy me.” + +“You expect too much,” she answered, with a touch that was almost of +sternness. + +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.” + +She looked at him, and repeated her earlier question. “Was it at your +bidding that Lady Mary came to speak with me?” + +“Fie!” he cried. “What insinuations do you make against her?” + +“Insinuations?” + +“What else? That she should do things at my bidding!” + +She smiled understanding. “You have a talent, sir, for crooked answers.” + +“'Tis to conceal the rectitude of my behavior.” + +“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. + +“Though I don't descry the cause,” said he, “'twill be something to +comfort me.” + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“A plague on all husbands, say I,” ended the worthy president of the +Bold Bucks. + +“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. + +“'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. + +“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.” + +Wharton resumed his railings at the Girdlebanks, and was still at them +when Rotherby came in. + +“At last, Charles!” the duke hailed him, rising. “Another minute, and I +had gone without you.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“'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?” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +The viscount smiled icily. “You have quick wits, sir,” said he, “which +is as it should be in one who lives by them.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“It shall not, by God!” swore Rotherby, purple now. “It shall not. I'll +kill him like a dog for what he has said.” + +“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.” + +“An eye-witness? Were ye present?” cried two or three in a breath. + +“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.” + +Rotherby writhed to shake off those who held him. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“And by mine and Gascoigne's here,” added Sir Harry Collis, “and I will +answer for his quality to any man who doubts it.” + +Rotherby glared at Mr. Caryll's sponsors, struck dumb by this sudden and +unexpected refutation of the charge he had leveled. + +Wharton, who had stepped aside, knit his brows and flashed his +quizzing-glass--through sheer force of habit--upon Lord Rotherby. Then: + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“False? Do you dare give me the lie, sir?” roared Rotherby. + +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.” + +“Dons and the devil! Does your grace take sides with him?” + +“I take no sides. But I owe it to myself--we all owe it to +ourselves--that this matter should be cleared.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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.” + +“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?” + +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?” + +“I can do better,” answered Mr. Caryll, “if any doubts my word.” + +“As how?” + +“I can prove it categorically, by witnesses.” + +“Well said, Caryll,” Stapleton approved him. + +“And if I say that you lie--you and your witnesses?” + +“'T is you will be liar,” said Mr. Caryll. + +“Besides, it is a little late for that,” cut in the duke. + +“Your grace,” cried Rotherby, “is this affair yours?” + +“No, I thank Heaven!” said his grace, and sat down. + +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. + +“Well?” he demanded foolishly, “have you naught to say?” + +“I had thought,” returned Mr. Caryll, “that I had said enough.” And the +duke laughed aloud. + +Rotherby's lip was curled. “Ha! You don't think, now, that you may have +said too much?” + +Mr. Caryll stifled a yawn. “Do you?” he inquired blandly. + +“Ay, by God! Too much for a gentleman to leave unpunished.” + +“Possibly. But what gentleman is concerned in this?” + +“I am!” thundered Rotherby. + +“I see. And how do you conceive that you answer the description?” + +Rotherby swore at him with great choice and variety. “You shall learn,” + he promised him. “My friends shall wait on you to-night.” + +“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. + +“I think,” put in his grace very languidly, “that you are troubling the +harmony that is wont to reign here.” + +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. + +He stood a moment, discomfited, glowering upon his brother. “My friends +shall wait on you to-night,” he repeated. + +“You said so before,” Mr. Caryll replied wearily. “I shall endeavor to +make them welcome.” + +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. + +“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.” + +And with that general threat he passed out, and that snug room at +White's knew him no more. + +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.” + +His lordship swore through his teeth, and went downstairs heavily. + + + + +CHAPTER X. SPURS TO THE RELUCTANT + + +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. + +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. + +Greetings and minor courtesies disposed of, Sir Richard came straight to +the affair which he had at heart. “Well? How speeds the matter?” + +Mr. Caryll's face became overcast. He sat down, a thought wearily. + +“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.” + +Sir Richard looked at him with searching eyes. “How?” he asked. “What +would you have me understand?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Be it so, then. But--if you love me--find some other hand to do the +work.” + +“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?” + +He held out his hands, and Justin took them affectionately and pressed +them in his own. + +“You'll put these weak notions from your mind, Justin, and prove worthy +the noble lady who was your mother?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“And even there,” mused Mr. Caryll, “it is perhaps gratitude rather than +affection that inspires the kindness.” + +“Who is Mistress Winthrop?” + +“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. + +“You have some acquaintance with her?” he suggested. + +Very briefly Mr. Caryll sketched for the second time that evening the +circumstances of his first meeting with Rotherby. + +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?” + +“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, + + “'Love doth to her eyes repair + To help him of his blindness.'” + +Sir Richard watched him, displeasure growing in his face. “So!” he said +at last. “Is that the reason?” + +“The reason of what?” quoth Mr. Caryll, recalled from his sweet rapture. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Your conclusions are all wrong. I swear they are wrong!” + +Sir Richard considered him sombrely. “Are you sure--quite, quite sure?” + +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. + +“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--” + +“No, no! Say no more!” cried Mr. Caryll, his voice trembling. + +“You will do it,” said Sir Richard, between question and assertion. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“If I do the thing at all, it shall be done to-morrow,” answered Mr. +Caryll. + +“If at all?” cried Sir Richard, frowning again. “If at all?” + +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.” + +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?” + +“Will you not remain here?” + +“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.” + +Justin took the hand and pressed it. The door opened, and Leduc entered. + +“Captain Mainwaring and Mr. Falgate are here, sir, and would speak with +you,” he announced. + +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. + +“Wait upon Sir Richard to the door, Leduc,” he bade his man. “Then +introduce these gentlemen.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + + +CHAPTER XI. THE ASSAULT-AT-ARMS + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“'Slife! Where does the fellow tarry? Was he so drunk last night that +he's not yet slept himself sober?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +“Shall we come to business, gentlemen?” quoth Mainwaring gruffly. + +“With all my heart,” answered Wharton. “It is growing late.” + +“Late! La, my dears!” clucked Mr. Falgate in horror. “Has your grace not +been to bed yet?” + +“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.” + +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--” + +“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.” + +“But there is no protection,” put in the duke. “You will be under +observation from that side of the square, including Stretton House.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I vow to Gad,” protested Mr. Falgate, advancing to the task. “I make +but an indifferent valet, my dear.” + +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. + +“I have,” said he, “the greatest repugnance to meeting his lordship.” + +“'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.” + +“Is it--is it unavoidable?” quoth Mr. Caryll. + +“Unavoidable?” Wharton looked at him in stern wonder. + +Gascoigne, too, swung round to stare. “Unavoidable? What can you mean, +Caryll?” + +“I mean is the matter not to be arranged in any way? Must the duel take +place?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Ay--by God!” swore Gascoigne hotly. “What a pox ails you, Caryll?” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Caryll, however, did not straighten his arm. He was observed to +smile as he broke ground and waited for his lordship to recover. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Time and the world stood still, or were annihilated in that moment for +the man who waited. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +Mr. Caryll moved away. In that quiet voice of his: “Take up your sword,” + he said to the vanquished, over his shoulder. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Around him, meanwhile, a wild scene was toward. + +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. + +“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.” + +“'Tis no matter for that now,” said the duke, touching him on the +shoulder and drawing him away from his lordship. “Get up, Rotherby.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“What's here?” cried the earl, without glancing at his son. “Is he dead? +Is he dead?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +Mainwaring, who had been stooping over Mr. Caryll, and who had perhaps +more knowledge of wounds than any present, shook his head ominously. + +“'Twould be dangerous to move him far,” said he. “'Twill increase the +hemorrhage.” + +“My men shall carry him across to Stretton House,” said Lord Ostermore. +“Lend a hand here, you gaping oafs.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What's this?” demanded her ladyship, as they trooped in. “Why do you +bring him here?” + +“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.” + +Her ladyship staggered and flung a hand to her breast. But her recovery +was almost immediate. “'Twas a duel--” she began stoutly. + +“'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.” + +“'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. + +Rotherby endeavored to master himself. “Madam,” he said, “here is no +place for you.” + +“But is it true? Is it true what is being said?” + +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?” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +Then, as she looked, she saw with a feeling almost of terror that his +eyes were suddenly wide open. + +“Wha--what?” came in feeble accents from his lips. + +There was a stir about him. + +“Never move, Justin,” said Gascoigne, who stood by his head. “You are +hurt. Lie still. The doctor has been summoned.” + +“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.” + +“Nay, sir, we hope not--we hope not!” It was the countess who spoke. + +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. + +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. + +“Where--where is Rotherby?” he inquired presently. + +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. + +Rotherby came forward like one who walks in his sleep. “I am sorry,” he +said thickly, “cursed sorry.” + +“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.” + +A denial rang out. “It was no accident!” cried Lord Ostermore, and swore +an oath. “We all saw what it was.” + +“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. + +“You are talking too much,” said the Major. + +“What odds? I am not like to talk much longer.” + +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. + +“It is better so,” he was saying. “Better so!” + +His glance was upon her, and she understood what none other there +suspected--that those words were for her alone. + +He closed his eyes and swooned again, as the doctor stooped to remove +the temporary bandages from his wound. + +Hortensia, a sob beating in her throat, turned and fled to her own room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + +Mr. Caryll was almost happy. + +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. + +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. + +He reclined there, and, as I have said, was almost happy. + +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. + +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. + +Thus he knew peace; knew it as only those know it who have sustained +unrest and can appreciate relief from it. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Leduc, if you were to fill me a pipe of Spanish--” + +“Monsieur has smoked one pipe already,” Leduc reminded him. + +“You are inconsequent, Leduc. It is a sign of advancing age. Repress it. +The pipe!” And he flicked impatient fingers. + +“Monsieur is forgetting that the doctor--” + +“The devil take the doctor,” said Mr. Caryll with finality. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You make too rapid a recovery, sir,” said she. + +“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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“You would kill yourself,” she told him. + +“I might kill myself for less, and yet be justified.” + +She looked her despair of him. “What must I do to make you reasonable?” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“But the doctor--” she began. + +“The doctor, ma'am, is disposed of already,” he assured her. “Very +definitely disposed of. Ask Leduc. He will tell you.” + +“Not a doubt of that,” she answered. “Leduc talks too much.” + +“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.” + +“I am sure of it,” said she. + +He looked surprised an instant. Then he laughed. “I am glad that we +agree.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“Your guesses are all wild,” she checked him. “My debt is of a more real +kind. It concerns my--my reputation.” + +“Fan me, ye winds!” he ejaculated. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Her ladyship, I trust, was disappointed.” + +“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. + +“'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.” + +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?” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She looked puzzled, intrigued by his mood. + +“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.” + +“Indeed, no--” she began. + +“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.” + +“Ah, but that is not true. It--” + +“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--” + +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. + +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. + +“Ah, but since you've come, I would not dream,” he said. + +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.” + +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.” + +She shook her head, and laughed at his solemnity. “I love the +fragrance,” she repeated. + +“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.” + +“'Tis your intent to travel?” she inquired. + +He set down the jar, and reached for the tinderbox. “It is time I was +returning home,” he explained. + +“Ah, yes. Your home is in France.” + +“At Maligny; the sweetest nook in Normandy. 'Twas my mother's +birthplace, and 'twas there she died.” + +“You have felt the loss of her, I make no doubt.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“O pitiful!” cried Hortensia, pain in her face. + +“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.” + +“And--and your father?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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!” + +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.” + +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?” + +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. + +“And then?” she questioned. + +“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.” + +“It must have been so,” she approved him. + +“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.” + +“The monster! Oh, the monster! He is an evil man for all that you have +said of him.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“He is to be pitied then,” she said, “deeply to be pitied.” + +“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.” + +“But now that you are well again?” she asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Not a muscle of his face moved. “Why that?” he asked. + +“Because your name is Caryll,” said she. + +“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.” + +Revelation illumined her mind as in a flash. She looked at him. + +“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?” + +He inclined his head. “That is what I meant,” he answered. + +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?” + +“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?” + +“Yet you spoke of love once to me,” she reminded him, scarcely above her +breath, and stabbed him with the recollection. + +“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.” + +“Decidedly,” came a shrill, ironical voice from the arbor's entrance, +“I may congratulate you, sir, upon the prodigious strides of your +recovery.” + +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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE FORLORN HOPE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What were you doing here, child?” she inquired, very coldly. + +Mistress Winthrop looked up--a sudden, almost scared glance it was. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Hortensia bit her lip, controlling herself bravely, a spot of red in +either cheek. Mr. Caryll came promptly to her rescue. + +“Your ladyship must confess that Mistress Winthrop has assisted nobly in +the care of me, and so, has placed your ladyship in her debt.” + +“In my debt?” shrilled the countess, eyebrows aloft, head-dress nodding. +“And what of yours?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +Her ladyship measured him with a malignant eye. “Are you quite mad, +sir?” she asked him. + +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.” + +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?” + +“Can there be more?” quoth Mr. Caryll, smiling so amiably that he must +have disarmed a Gorgon. + +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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Madam, you insult me!” Hortensia was on her feet, eyes flashing, cheeks +aflame. + +“I am witness to that,” said Lord Ostermore, coming in through the +side-entrance. + +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. + +“Out on you!” he said testily, “to chide the poor child so!” + +“Poor child!” sneered her ladyship, eyes raised to heaven to invoke its +testimony to this absurdity. “Poor child.” + +“Let there be an end to it, madam,” he said with attempted sternness. +“It is unjust and unreasonable in you.” + +“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?” + +His lordship crimsoned. On the subject of his son he could be angry in +earnest, even with her ladyship, as already we have seen. + +“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.” + +She looked at him, very white from suppressed fury. “I do believe you +had been glad had it been so.” + +“Nay,” he answered, “I had been sorry for Mr. Caryll's sake.” + +“And for his own?” + +“Pshaw!” + +“Are you a father?” she wondered contemptuously. + +“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. + +“Will you not read your letter, Mr. Caryll?” she invited him, with an +amazingly sudden change to amiability. + +“It will keep, ma'am, to while away an hour that is less pleasantly +engaged.” And he took the napkin Leduc was proffering. + +“You pay your correspondent a poor compliment,” said she. + +“My correspondent is not one to look for them or need them,” he answered +lightly, and dipped his spoon in the broth. + +“Is she not?” quoth her ladyship. + +Mr. Caryll laughed. “So feminine!” said he. “Ha, ha! So very +feminine--to assume the sex so readily.” + +“'Tis an easy assumption when the superscription is writ in a woman's +hand.” + +Mr. Caryll, the picture of amiability, smiled between spoonfuls. “Your +ladyship's eyes preserve not only their beauty but a keenness beyond +belief.” + +“How could you have seen it from that distance, Sylvia?” inquired his +practical lordship. + +“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.” + +Her playfulness, so ill-assumed, sat more awkwardly upon her than her +usual and more overt malice towards him. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +He dropped his spoon into the bowl with a clatter. He looked up, the +very picture of amazement and consternation. + +“A dissembler, I?” quoth he in earnest protest; then laughed and quoted, +adapting, + + “'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts + Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face + Should discontent sit heavy at my heart.” + +She looked him over, pursing her lips. “I've often thought you might +have been a player,” said she contemptuously. + +“I'faith,” he laughed, “I'd sooner play than toil.” + +“Ay; but you make a toil of play, sir.” + +“Compassionate me, ma'am,” he implored in the best of humors. “I am but +a sick man. Your ladyship's too keen for me.” + +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.” + +Hortensia rose. Loath though she might be to depart, there was no reason +she could urge for lingering. + +“Is not your lordship coming?” said she. + +“Of course he is,” her ladyship commanded. “I need to speak with you yet +concerning Rotherby,” she informed him. + +“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.” + +“Will it not keep? What can you have to say to him that is so pressing?” + +“But a word--no more.” + +“Why, then, we'll stay for you,” said her ladyship, and threw him into +confusion, hopeless dissembler that he was. + +“Nay, nay! I beg that you will not.” + +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. + +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. + +“Indeed,” said he, “if you could give his lordship leave, ma'am, for a +few moments, I should myself be glad on't.” + +“Come, Hortensia,” said her ladyship shortly, and swept out, Mistress +Winthrop following. + +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. + +“Plotting?” echoed Hortensia. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Assuredly--I am glad to say--thanks to the great care you have had of +me here at Stretton House.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“That being so, sir--hem! You are receiving letters daily. Do they +concern the business of King James?” + +“In a measure; or, rather, they are from one concerned in it.” + +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. + +“How soon, think you,” asked his lordship presently, “you will be in +case to travel?” + +“In a week, I hope,” was the reply. + +“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?” + +Mr. Caryll passed a hand across his chin, his face very grave. “Your +answer to the letter that I brought you?” + +“My answer. My acceptance of his majesty's proposals.” + +“Ha!” Mr. Caryll seemed to be breathing hard. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +The earl made a gesture, brusque and impatient. “Your information is +very scant, then,” said he. + +Mr. Caryll looked askance at him. + +“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.” + +“Then, 'tis possible he may work to his own undoing,” said Mr. Caryll, +to whom this was, after all, no news. + +“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.” + +“Your lordship is grown strangely hot upon this question,” said Caryll, +very full of wonder. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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--?” + +“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.” + +“You mean?” inquired Caryll. + +“I mean that I am confronted by the danger of beggary, ruin, shame, and +the sponging-house, at best.” + +Mr. Caryll was stirred out of his calm. “My lord!” he cried. “How is +this possible? What can have come to pass?” + +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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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!” + +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. + +“Then, that being so, what cause for these alarms some six months +later?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“My wits are very dull, I fear,” said he. “I still cannot understand.” + +“Then I'll make it all clear to you,” said his lordship. + +Leduc appeared at the arbor entrance. + +“What now?” asked Mr. Caryll. + +“Her ladyship is approaching, sir,” answered Leduc the vigilant. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. LADY OSTERMORE + + +Lord Ostermore and Mr. Caryll looked across the lawn towards the house, +but failed to see any sign of her ladyship's approach. + +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. + +His lordship frowned, angered by the interruption. Then: “If your +ladyship will come inside,” said he, “you will hear better and with +greater comfort.” + +“Not to speak of dignity,” said Mr. Caryll. + +The stiff gown rustled again, this time without stealth. The countess +appeared, no whit abashed. Mr. Caryll rose politely. + +“You sit with spies to guard your approaches,” said she. + +“As a precaution against spies,” was his lordship's curt answer. + +She measured him with a cool eye. “What is't ye hide?” she asked him. + +“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.” + +“Are these matters wherewith to importune a stranger--a guest?” + +“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.” + +She sniffed, closed her fan with a clatter, and sat down. Mr. Caryll +resumed his long chair, and his lordship took the stool. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Madam!” he roared, empurpling, and coming heavily to his feet. “Do you +know who I am?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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?” + +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?” + +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. + +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?” + +“'Tis what I will ask Rotherby to help me to discover,” she informed +him. + +“Rotherby?” he cried. “Would you tell that villain what you suspect? +Would you arm him with another weapon for my undoing?” + +“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.” + +And she swept out, fan going briskly in one hand, her long ebony cane +swinging as briskly in the other. + +“O God!” groaned Ostermore, and sat down heavily. + +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.” + +“But if I do not--what other hopes have I? Damn me! I'm a ruined man +either way.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“And your father's destitution means our destitution--yours and mine; +for his gambling schemes have consumed my portion long since.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“'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.” + +“Ah?” she looked up quickly, hopefully. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“He durst not.” + +“Pooh! The town would all approve him in it since your running Caryll +through the back. What a fool you were, Charles.” + +He turned away, hanging his head, full conscious, and with no little +bitterness, of how great had been his folly. + +“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.” + +“I know him to be such.” + +“You know it?” + +“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.” + +“Well--well? What has he discovered? Anything?” + +“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.” + +“I know,” said her ladyship. “A letter was delivered him just now. I +tried to smoke him concerning it. But he's too astute.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Then see that you use him adroitly to your work,” said his mother. +“Best not leave town at present, Charles.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Sweet mother!” said his lordship, bowing. + +She scowled at him. She could deal in irony herself--and loved to--but +she detested to have it dealt to her. + +He bowed again; gained the door, and would have passed out but that she +detained him. + +“'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.” + +He paused to question her with his eyes. + +“He might have made a husband for Hortensia, and rid me of the company +of that white-faced changeling.” + +“Might he so?” quoth the viscount, face and voice, expressionless. + +“They were made for each other,” her ladyship opined. + +“Were they so?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Why, fool,” quoth she, “do you hold there still? Art not yet cured of +that folly?” + +“What folly, ma'am?” + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. LOVE AND RAGE + + +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. + +“Hortensia! Hortensia!” he called to her, and at his call she paused. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Grant me a moment ere I go, Hortensia,” he said, between command and +exhortation. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“I have but my farewells to make, Hortensia,” said he. “I am leaving +Stretton House, to-day, at last.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +She looked up at him quite calm and fearlessly. “I am glad for your own +sake, too.” + +His dark brooding eyes looked deep into hers, which did not falter under +his insistent gaze. “Am I to believe you?” he inquired. + +“Why not? I do not wish your death.” + +“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?” + +“I have not thought of it at all,” she answered him with a pitiless +frankness. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“Kind?” he mocked her. “You think it kind to put me from your mind--I +who love you, Hortensia!” + +She rose upon the instant, her cheeks warming faintly. “My lord,” said +she, “I think there is no more to be said between us.” + +“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.” + +“Why, if that be all, I pardon you very readily,” she answered, still +betraying no emotion. + +He frowned. “Too readily!” he cried. “Too readily for sincerity. I will +not take it so.” + +“Indeed, my lord, for a penitent, you are very difficult to please. I +pardon you with all my heart.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“For the thing I did--the thing I sought to do.” + +“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?” + +He had risen from his knee. He stood apart, pondering her from under +bent brows with eyes that were full of angry fire. + +“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.” + +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.” + +She smiled wistfully. “'Tis overlate to talk of that.” + +“Why?” he demanded fiercely, and caught her arms, holding her there +before him. “Why is it overlate?” + +“Suffer me to go,” she commanded, rather than begged, and made to free +herself of his grasp. + +“I want you to be my wife, Hortensia--my wedded wife.” + +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.” + +“Ah, do not say that!” he begged, a very suppliant again. “Do not say +that! Child, I love you. Do you understand?” + +“Who could fail to understand, after the abundant proof you have +afforded me of your sincerity and your devotion?” + +“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?” + +“My lord, you are paining me. What can you look to gain by this? Suffer +me to go.” + +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. + +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!” + +“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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Will you go?” she asked him furiously, outraged by the vileness of his +ravings. “Will you go, or must I summon help?” + +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?” + +“I suppose it is because I am blind to the honor of the alliance,” she +controlled herself to answer him. “Will you go?” + +He did not move. “Yet you loved me once--” + +“'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.” + +“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.” + +“It sorts well with your ways, my lord, that you could say these things +behind his back. You are practiced at stabbing men behind.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Her eyes lashed him with her scorn. “I were a fool did I believe you,” + was her contemptuous answer. + +“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.” + +He wrenched the door open, and went out on that, leaving her cold and +sick with dread. + +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. + +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. + +“Wait, at least,” he begged, “until I have been abroad a day or two, and +felt for myself how the wind Is setting.” + + +“'Tis a prodigiously dangerous document,” he declared. “I scarce see the +need for so much detail.” + +“How can it set but one way?” + +“'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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Caryll returned it. His countenance was grave. + + +“I desire his majesty to know how whole-heartedly I belong to him.” + +“'Twere best destroyed, I think. You can write another when the time +comes to dispatch it.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“He shall do a little more kicking--with both feet,” said his lordship +with unction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. MR. GREEN EXECUTES HIS WARRANT + + +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. + +“Ah, Mr. Green!” said he very pleasantly. “How d'ye? Have ye been +searching folk of late?” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“My friends?” quoth Mr. Green, in a voice of disgust. “Nay, your honor! +No friends of mine, ecod! Indeed, no!” + +“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. + +Mr. Green stood still to watch him go. Then he swore through his teeth, +and beckoned one of those whose acquaintance he had disclaimed. + +“'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?” + +“Ay,” answered Jerry--a rough, heavily-built tatterdemalion. “He's been +there these two hours.” + +“'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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“What weakness made you spare him when ye had him at the point of your +sword?” + +“That which made me regret that I had him there; the reflection that he +is my brother.” + +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?” + +“What of him?” + +“Have you not talked again with him of the matter of going over to King +James?” + +“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.” + +“Has he though? The bishop said naught of this.” + +“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.” + +“Then what is to be done?” inquired Sir Richard, frowning. + +“We'd best get home to France again.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Danger of what?” asked Sir Richard, with indifference. + +“You are being spied upon.” + +“Pho! I am accustomed to it. I have been spied upon all my life.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +A knock fell upon the door, and Sir Richard's man entered. His face was +white, his eyes startled. + +“Sir Richard,” he announced, his voice lowered portentously, “there are +some men here who insist upon seeing you.” + +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. + +The man nodded in silence. Mr. Caryll swore through his teeth. Sir +Richard rose. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Sir,” cried Sir Richard angrily. “This is a most insolent intrusion. +Bentley, show this fellow the door.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Keep your distance, sir, or 'twill be the worse for you,” he +threatened. “Hi!” he called. “Jerry! Beattie!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Sir Richard's answer was to pull open a drawer in the writing-table, by +which he was standing, and whip out a pistol. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The spy went forward to Mr. Caryll. “I am most profoundly sorry--” he +began. + +“Take your sorrow to hell,” snarled Mr. Caryll, his face livid, his eyes +blazing uncannily. “I believe ye've murdered him.” + +“Ecod! the fool shall smart for't if Sir Richard dies,” grumbled Mr. +Green. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +The doctor pursed his lips, and looked at Mr. Caryll over the top of his +spectacles. “He will live--” + +“Thank God!” breathed Mr. Caryll. + +“--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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Caryll nodded in silence, his face drawn with pain. With a gesture +he dismissed the doctor, who went out with Bentley. + +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. + +“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.” + +Silently Justin wrung the hand he held. + +“You'll miss me a little, Justin,” the old man resumed presently. “We +have been good friends, lad--good friends for thirty years.” + +“Father!” Justin cried, a sob in his voice. + +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.” + +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. + +“Not long, father,” was the gloomy answer. + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“I remember,” answered Justin, with an inward shudder, fearful of what +might follow. + +“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?” + +“Nay, nay, father! Speak not of forgiveness.” + +“I have sore need of it.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Then suddenly he made the quick movement of one who bethinks himself of +something. He waved Bentley away. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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--” + +And thus, abruptly, but in great happiness, he passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. AMID THE GRAVES + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“I came but to tell you how much I feel for you in this great loss,” she +said. + +He looked at her in amazement. “How did you know?” he asked her. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Ah, surely not,” said she, sorrow rather than reproach in her gentle +voice. + +“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.” + +“Do not talk so,” she said. “It hurts.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“I shall return to France,” he said. “It had perhaps been better had I +never crossed to England.” + +“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. + +He shot her a swift, sidelong glance; then stopped, and turned. “I am +glad on't,” said he. “'Twill make my going the easier.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“Is it no more than folly, Justin?” she asked him, brown eyes looking up +into gray-green. + +“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.” + +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. + +“No more than that,” he answered, “and yet more than enough. I have no +name to offer any woman.” + +“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.” + +“Obedience to prejudices is the whole art of living,” he answered, +sighing. + +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?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +He set his hands upon her shoulders, and with glowing eyes regarded her. +“Ah, sweet!” said he, “you make me very, very proud.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. THE GHOST OF THE PAST + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He bade Leduc call a chair, and, dressed in mourning, but with his +habitual care, he had himself carried to Lincoln's Inn Fields. + +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. + +Paying no attention to them, Mr. Caryll mounted the steps, nor noticed +the gravity of the porter's countenance as he passed within. + +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. + +“How now?” said he. “Does no one wait here?” + +They fell apart a little, and stood at attention, with something curious +in their bearing, one and all. + +“My service to his lordship, and say that I desire to speak with him.” + +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. + +“News?” quoth Mr. Caryll sharply, intrigued by so much show of mystery. +“What news?” + +“His lordship is very ill, sir. He had a seizure this morning when they +came for him.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“'Sdeath!” ejaculated Mr. Caryll in his surprise, a surprise that was +tempered with some dismay. “And he had a seizure, ye say?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“'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?” + +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? + +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. + +“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.” + +Some faint color tinged her cheeks. “You had decided, then?” + +“I had decided that his lordship must decide,” he answered. + +“And now?” + +“And now it seems we must decide for ourselves if his lordship dies.” + +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.” + +“Why that?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“His papers must be saved,” he said shortly. “I'll go to the library at +once.” + +“But the secretary's agent is there already,” she repeated. + +“'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. + +“But, then, you--you?” she cried. “Is it true that you are a Jacobite?” + +“True enough,” he answered. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“But what can you do?” + +“That I go to learn.” + +“I will come with you, then.” + +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. + +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. + +“Ha!” said Mr. Caryll. “Mr. Green again. I declare, sir, ye've the gift +of ubiquity.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I've found you so before,” said Mr. Green sourly. + +“Ye've a nice sense of humor,” said Mr. Caryll, head on one side, +contemplating the spy with admiration in his glance. + +“And a nicer sense of a Jacobite,” answered Mr. Green. + +“He will have the last word, you perceive,” said Mr. Caryll to +Hortensia. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“'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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“'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.” + +“Ha! Ye're a roguish wag! But 'The Constant Couple' I mean is a play.” + +“Oh, a play! Ay, I mind me I saw it some years ago, when 'twas first +acted. But what has that to do with--” + +“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?” + +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?” + +“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. + +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. + +“'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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Why, indeed, it would mean my ruin to remain now,” he admitted. “And +yet--” He held out his hands to her. + +“I will follow you,” she promised him. “I will follow you as soon as his +lordship is recovered, or--or at peace.” + +“You have well considered, sweetheart?” he asked her, holding her to +him, and looking down into her gentle eyes. + +“There is no happiness for me apart from you.” + +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.” + +“What is the world to me? You are the world to me,” she cried. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What have you found?” she asked at last. + +“A ghost,” he answered, and his voice had a strained, metallic ring. He +even vented an odd laugh. “A bundle of old love-letters.” + +“From her ladyship?” + +“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. + +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. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +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. + +“What are you doing?” she cried, seeking at last to arouse him from the +spell under which he appeared to have fallen. “Those letters--” + +“I must see Lord Ostermore,” he answered wildly, and made for the door, +reeling like a drunkard in his walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE END OF LORD OSTERMORE + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +She raised a haggard face to his. “And do you dream that Lord Carteret +would make terms with you?” + +“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. + +“But it might involve the worse betrayal of your father, Charles, and if +he were to live--” + +“'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.” + +She sat bemused, her eyes upon the sunlit gardens below, where a faint +breeze was stirring the shrub tops. + +“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?” + +He smiled darkly. “I have seen to that already,” he replied. + +“How?” excitedly. “You have got the papers?” + +“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.” + +She sat up, rigid. “'Sdeath! What is't ye mean?” + +“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.” + +She looked at him, between wonder and fear. “Can ye trust him?” she +asked breathlessly. + +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.” + +She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “You have very well disposed, Charles,” + she approved him. “If your father lives, it should not be a difficult +matter--” + +She checked suddenly and turned, while Rotherby, too, looked up and +stepped quickly from the window-embrasure where he had stood. + +The door of the bedroom had been suddenly pulled open, and Sir James +came out, very pale and discomposed. + +“Madam--your ladyship--my lord!” he gasped, his mouth working, his hands +waving foolishly. + +The countess rose to confront him, tall, severe and harsh. The viscount +scowled a question. Sir James quailed before them, evidently in +affliction. + +“Madam--his lordship,” he said, and by his eloquent gesture of dejection +announced what he had some difficulty in putting into words. + +She stepped forward, and took him by the wrist. “Is he dying?” she +inquired. + +“Have courage, madam,” the doctor besought her. + +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. + +“I asked you was he dying,” she reminded him, with a cold sternness that +beat aside all his attempts at subterfuge. + +“Your ladyship--he is dead,” he faltered, with lowered eyes. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Charles!” she said, and surprised him by the tender note. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“What else?” she asked, with a fuller return to her old self. “Ye've +killed him. What more is there you can do?” + +“Oh, madam--nay, madam! I am most deeply grieved that my--my--” + +“His lordship will wait upon you to the door,” said she, designating her +son. + +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. + +He gathered up his hat and gold-headed cane--the unfailing insignia of +his order--and was gone, swiftly and silently. + +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. + +“This makes matters easier for you,” she said at length. + +“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.” + +She shivered, as much perhaps at his tone as at the recollections he +evoked. “You are very indifferent, Charles,” said she. + +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.” + +“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. + +He made as if to acquiesce, then halted. “No,” he said, and there was +repugnance in his tone and face. “Not--not now.” + +There came a knocking at the door, rapid, insistent. Grateful for the +interruption, Rotherby went to open. + +Mr. Green staggered forward with swollen eyes, his face inflamed with +rage, and with something else that was not quite apparent to Rotherby. + +“My lord!” he cried in a loud, angry voice. + +Rotherby caught his wrist and checked him. “Sh! sir,” he said gravely. +“Not here.” And he pushed him out again, her ladyship following them. + +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. + +Rotherby shook him as if he had been a rat. “You cursed fool!” he cried. +“You left him there--at the desk?” + +“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.” + +“Then why did ye not send word to me at once, you fool?” + +“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.” + +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. + +She set a hand on his sleeve. “Charles!” she said to him in a voice that +was dead cold with warning. + +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.” + +And his lordship went quickly down the stairs, Mr. Green following hard +upon his heels, and her ladyship bringing up the rear. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. Mr. CARYLL'S IDENTITY + + +“I must see Lord Ostermore!” had been Mr. Caryll's wild cry, as he +strode to the door. + +From the other side of it there came a sound of steps and voices. Some +one was turning the handle. + +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. + +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. + +“The taper!” he exclaimed, and pointed to the extinguished candle on the +floor. “What can we do?” + +A sharp blow fell upon the lock of the door. He stood still, looking +over his shoulder. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +Rotherby called a servant forward. “Take those papers from the thief's +hand,” he commanded. + +“Stop!” cried Mr. Caryll. “Lord Rotherby, may I speak with you alone +before you go further in a matter you will bitterly regret?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“You are before him now,” said Rotherby. “Say on!” + +“I demand to see Lord Ostermore.” + +“I am Lord Ostermore,” said Rotherby. + +“You? Since when?” said Mr. Caryll, not even beginning to understand. + +“Since ten minutes ago,” was the callous answer that first gave that +household the news of my lord's passing. + +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. + +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. + +“Dead?” quoth he. “Dead? Is my lord dead? They told me he was +recovering.” + +“They told you false,” answered Rotherby. “So now--those papers!” + +Mr. Caryll relinquished them. “Take them,” he said. “Since that is +so--take them.” + +Rotherby received them himself. “Remove his sword,” he bade a footman. + +Mr. Caryll looked sharply round at him. “My sword?” quoth he. “What do +you mean by that? What right?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“They'll serve their turn,” said her son, and added to Caryll: “And +they'll help to hang you.” + +“No doubt you find me mentioned in them,” said Mr. Caryll. + +“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.” + +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.” + +His lordship flushed darkly. “You'll clown it to the end,” he sneered. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +Mistress Winthrop rose. “'Tis a lie,” she said firmly. “I can not be +made to witness.” + +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?” + +Mr. Green shrugged. “You admitted that you carried a letter. What other +letter should it have been but that?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Ah!” chuckled Mr. Green. “What now, sir? What now? By what fresh piece +of acrobatics will you get out of that?” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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--” + +“You do not leave this house,” Rotherby informed him. + +“I think you push hospitality too far. Will you desire your lackey to +return me my sword? I have affairs elsewhere.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“He'll require you on a charge of high treason,” said Mr. Green. + +“Have you a warrant to take me?” + +“I have not, but--” + +“Then how do you dare detain me, sir?” demanded Mr. Caryll sharply. +“D'ye think I don't know the law?” + +“I think you'll know a deal more of it shortly,” countered Mr. Green. + +“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. + +“Away with you for the warrant,” said Rotherby to Green. “We'll keep him +here till you return.” + +Mr. Green grinned at the prisoner, and was gone in great haste. + +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.” + +“Let that be,” snarled his lordship. + +“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.” + +“Will you be silent?” roared his lordship, in a towering passion. + +“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.” + +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. + +“What have you to say?” she asked Mr. Caryll. + +“Nay, madam,” he replied, “not before these.” And he indicated the +servants. + +“'Tis but a pretext to have them out of the room,” said Rotherby. + +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. + +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. + +“Go,” she bade them. “Wait within call.” + +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. + +Her ladyship's eye fell upon Hortensia. “Do you go, too, child,” she +bade her. + +Instead, Hortensia came forward. “I wish to remain, madam,” she said. + +“Did I ask you what you wished?” demanded the countess. + +“My place is here,” Hortensia explained. “Unless Mr. Caryll should, +himself, desire me to depart.” + +“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.” + +“What does it mean?” demanded Rotherby, thrusting himself forward, and +scowling from one to the other of them. “What d'ye mean, Hortensia?” + +“I am Mr. Caryll's betrothed wife,” she answered quietly. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Rotherby, singularly self-contained, recalled her to the occasion. + +“Mr. Caryll is waiting,” said he, a sneer in his voice. + +“Ah, yes,” she said, and flashing a last malignant glance upon +Hortensia, she sank to a chair beside her, but not too near her. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Ah!” from his lordship in a breath of satisfaction, and + +“Ah!” from Hortensia in a gasp of apprehension. + +Her ladyship retained a stony countenance, and a silence that sorted +excellently with it. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +Lord Rotherby laughed noiselessly. “Can you urge me any reasons why we +should not?” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Sir--” began Rotherby, hotly, half-starting from his seat. + +“Nay, let him trundle on, Charles,” said his mother. “He'll be the +sooner done.” + +“Instead,” proceeded Mr. Caryll, as if there had been no interruption, +“I will now urge you my reasons why you should not so proceed.” + +“Ha!” snapped Rotherby. “They will need to be valid.” + +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.” + +“But ye don't name them,” said her ladyship, attempting to conquer her +uneasiness. + +“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.” + +Rotherby broke in tempestuously, smiting the desk before him. “If you +think to move us to mercy by such--” + +“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.” + +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. + +After a spell Rotherby spoke. “You are my brother?” he said, his voice +colorless. “My brother? What are you saying?” + +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. + +“I'll not name her to your ladyship,” said he at, last, in a cold, +imperious voice. + +“I'm glad ye've so much decency,” she countered. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“For shame, madam! You are speaking of his mother,” cried Hortensia, hot +with indignation. + +“Pshaw! 'Tis all an impudent lie--a pack of lies!” cried Rotherby. “He's +crafty as all the imps of hell.” + +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.” + +His lordship rose. “Produce them,” said he shortly. + +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. + +Rotherby held out his hand for it. But Mr. Caryll shook his head. “Stand +here beside me, and read it,” said he. + +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. + +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. + +“How do I know that you are the person designated there--this Justin +Caryll?” + +“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?” + +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--” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“That, ma'am,” answered Mr. Caryll very gravely, “I wait to learn from +my brother here.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. THE LION'S SKIN + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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--” + +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.” + +Mr. Caryll was listening, all ears. Some light was being shed upon much +that had lain in darkness. + +“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.” + +“You think, then,” said Rotherby, “that this man has raked up this story +to--” + +“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?” + +“Nay, but the documents might have been intended for some other purpose +had my lord lived--some purpose of extortion,” suggested her ladyship. + +“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?” + +“How came you by your means, being what you say you are?” she asked him. + +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?” + +“I can, sir. It was at the end of April of '89. What then?” + +Mr. Caryll produced the certificate again. He beckoned Rotherby, and +held the paper under his eyes. “What date is there--the date of birth?” + +Rotherby read: “The third of January of 1690.” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +He strode to the door and called the footmen, then turned again. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I shall not keep you long,” was Rotherby's cold reply, and Mr. Caryll +went out. + +“What now, Charles?” asked his mother. “Is this child to remain?” + +“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. + +“What folly are you considering?” she asked. + +“Your ladyship is wasting time, and time, as Mr. Caryll has said, is +pressing.” + +She crossed to the door, controlled almost despite herself by the calm +air of purpose that was investing him. “You are not thinking of--” + +“You shall learn very soon of what I am thinking, ma'am. I beg that you +will give us leave.” + +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!” + +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. + +“That man,” he said, jerking a backward thumb at the closed door, “lives +or dies, goes free or hangs, as you shall decide, Hortensia.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“Why do you mock me with it?” she inquired with dignity. + +“I do not mock you, Hortensia. Answer me! Is it true that you love him?” + +“It is true,” she answered steadily. “What is't to you?” + +“Everything!” he answered hotly. “Everything! It is Heaven and Hell to +me. Ten days ago, Hortensia, I asked you to marry me--” + +“No more,” she begged him, an arm thrown out to stay him. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Ay--and in nothing so human as in my love for you, Hortensia.” + +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.” + +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. + +“No, no!” she faltered, and advanced a step or two. “Oh, have pity!” + +“When you show me pity,” he answered. + +She was beaten. “You--you swear to let him go--to see him safely out of +England--if--if I consent?” + +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. + +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?” + +“At that price,” she answered piteously, “at that price.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“And loving?” he demanded greedily. + +“Even that. I promise it,” she answered. + +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!” + +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?” + +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. + +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. + +“This little fool,” he said to Caryll, “would have married me to save +your life.” + +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.” + +“Yes, you damned play-actor! Yes!” he thundered. “D'ye think I want +another man's cast-offs?” + +“That is an overstatement,” said Mr. Caryll. “Mistress Winthrop is no +cast-off of mine.” + +“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. + +“Ye're sure of that?” questioned Mr. Caryll. + +“I would I were as sure of Heaven.” + +“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. + +Then Rotherby shrugged and sneered. “'Tis his bluster,” said he. “He'll +be a farceur to the end. I doubt he's half-witted.” + +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.” + +She clutched his hands, and looked up into his eyes. “You but say that +to comfort me!” she cried. + +“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.” + +“Ay--depend upon that,” Rotherby mocked him. “Depend upon it--to the +gallows.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +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?” + +“And if you have--what then?” demanded sullen Rotherby. + +“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!”' + +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. + +“With what d'ye threaten us?” she asked contemptuously. + +“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.” + +“On our own heads be what?” demanded Rotherby. + +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!” + +“Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue! Keep your pity for those that need +it.” + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. THE HUNTERS + + +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. + +Mr. Templeton made her ladyship a low bow. + +“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.” + +Mr. Templeton may or may not have reflected that the grief upon which he +deplored his intrusion was none so apparent. + +“I had not ventured to do so,” he continued, “but that your lordship +seemed to invite my presence.” + +“Invited it, sir?” questioned Rotherby with deference. “I should +scarcely have presumed so far as to invite it.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“You have evidence?” + +“Documentary evidence. A letter from the Pretender himself amongst it.” + +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?” + +“To my late father,” answered his lordship. + +Mr. Templeton made an exclamation, whose significance was not quite +clear. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“My son,” interposed the countess, “is, I am sure, gratified to hear you +so commend his conduct.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Sir,” he said, “I offer you my sympathy--my profoundest sympathy; and +you, my lady. + +“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.” + +“Oh, sir!” cried Rotherby in the deepest emotion, “I have no words in +which to express my thanks.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Templeton frowned upon him again. “Ye betray a singular callousness, +sir,” said he. + +“Nay, sir; not callousness. Merely the ease that springs from a tranquil +conscience.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +He pocketed the letters, and raised a hand to point at Mr. Caryll. “This +man?” he inquired laconically. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Templeton nodded. “'Tis a clear case, then,” said he, and dipped his +pen. + +“And yet,” put in Mr. Caryll, in an indolent, musing voice, “it might be +made to look as clear another way.” + +Mr. Templeton scowled at him. “The opportunity shall be afforded you,” + said he. “Meanwhile--what is your name?” + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Templeton sat back in his chair, frowning; but more from utter +bewilderment now than anger. + +“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.” + +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.” + +Mr. Caryll sauntered over to the secretaire, and leaned an elbow on the +top of it, facing all in the room. + +“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.” + +“Why, then--” began Mr. Templeton. + +“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.” + +“What then? What else?” growled Rotherby. + +“Ay, sir--what else?” quoth Mr. Templeton. + +“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.” + +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. + +“The truth, sir.” + +“The truth?” echoed the secretary. + +“Ay, sir--the truth. Have ye never heard of it?” + +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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Templeton made an impatient sound, and poised his pen. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?--” + +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. + +“You are the person designated here?” he inquired. + +“As I can abundantly prove,” said Mr. Caryll. “I have no lack of friends +in London who will bear witness to that much.” + +“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--” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“To what purpose, this?” quoth Mr. Templeton. + +“The purpose will be presently apparent. Observe that date,” said Mr. +Caryll, and he pointed to the document in Mr. Templeton's hand. + +Mr. Templeton read the date aloud--“1692”--and then the name of the +deceased--“Antoinette de Beaulieu de Maligny. What of it?” he demanded. + +“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.” + +And he passed the secretary a third paper. + +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. + +“God!” shrieked her ladyship, who took in the meaning of this thing +before Rotherby had begun to suspect it. “'Tis a forgery!” + +“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.” + +“But what is it?” inquired Rotherby huskily. “What is it?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“By God--” began Rotherby, but his mother clutched his wrist. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“You fool!” cried she who until that hour had been Countess of +Ostermore, turning fiercely upon Mr. Templeton. “You fool!” + +“Madam, this is not seemly,” cried the second secretary, with awkward +dignity. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Do you believe me?” she demanded angrily. + +“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.” + +“I shall not keep his lordship waiting,” answered Caryll, and bowed in +his turn. + +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? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. THE LION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +The touch and the speech awakened him to life. “No!” he cried harshly, +and shook his hand free of hers. “It ends not thus.” + +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. + +“No,” Mr. Caryll agreed quietly. “It ends not thus.” + +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.” + +“Fratricide!” exclaimed Rotherby, and laughed angrily. “Fratricide!” It +was as if he threatened it. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“What else?” + +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?” + +“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. + +“Lord Ostermore, my father, married you, madam, in good faith.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“By God, sir,” cried Rotherby, “that's damned handsome of you!” + +“You epitomize it beautifully,” said Mr. Caryll, with a reversion to his +habitual manner. + +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. + +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. + +She would have kissed his own in the abasement and gratitude of the +moment. But he restrained her. + +“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.” + +“Sir--sir--” she faltered brokenly. “Could you--could you suppose--” + +“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.” + +“The house--and all--is yours, sir,” she reminded him. + +“There's but one thing in it that I'll carry off with me,” said he. He +held the door for her. + +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.” + +“Fare you well, madam,” he said again, bowing gravely. “And fare you +well, Lord Ostermore,” he added to her son. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Come now, thou chattel, that I am resolved to carry with me from my +father's house,” said he. + +She checked in her approach. “'Tis not in such words that I'll be +wooed,” said she. + +“A fig for words!” he cried. “Art wooed and won. Confess it.” + +“You want nothing for self-esteem,” she informed him gravely. + +“One thing, Hortensia,” he amended. “One thing I want--I lack--to esteem +myself greater than any king that rules.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“How I was mistook in you!” quoth she. + +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.” + +“Yet you were not mistook in me,” said she. + +“I was,” he answered, “for I deemed you woman.” + +“What other have you found me?” she inquired. + +He flung wide his arms, and bade her into them. “Here to my heart,” he +cried, “and in your ear I'll whisper it.” + + + + + +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 2702-0.txt or 2702-0.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 + +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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