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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0561240 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52733 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52733) diff --git a/old/52733-8.txt b/old/52733-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e4e56b6..0000000 --- a/old/52733-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11676 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Denounced, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Denounced - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: August 6, 2016 [EBook #52733] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DENOUNCED *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - http://www.archive.org/details/denouncedromance00blouiala - (University of California Libraries) - - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - -Appleton's -Town and Country -Library -No. 200 - - - -DENOUNCED - - - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR. - -IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY. - A ROMANCE. 12mo. Paper, 50 - cents; cloth, $1.00. - -"We do not hesitate to declare that Mr. Bloundelle-Burton's new -romance will be very hard to beat in its own particular line. In his -previous works Mr. Burton gave evidence which entitled him to a very -prominent place among the writers of his class; and now, at another -bound, he has leaped into the foremost rank. If he only keeps up to -the level of 'In the Day of Adversity,' he must continue to rank as -one of the most interesting and popular writers of the day. . . . Mr. -Burton's creative skill is of the kind which must fascinate those who -revel in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and Stanley -Weyman. Even the author of 'A Gentleman of France' has not surpassed -the writer of 'In the Day of Adversity' in the moving interest of his -tale."--_St. James's Gazette_. - -New York: D. APPLETON & Co., 72 Fifth Avenue. - - - - - - -DENOUNCED - -_A ROMANCE_ - - -BY -JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON - -AUTHOR OF -IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY, THE HISPANIOLA PLATE, ETC. - - - -"The adder lies i' the corbie's nest." - Jacobite Ballad - - - -NEW YORK -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY -1896 - - - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1896, -BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. - - - - - - -CONTENTS. - -I. A home coming -II. A subject of King George -III. A woman's letter -IV. The subjects of King James -V. My lord goes out of town -VI. Kate makes an appointment -VII. "The bird that danced the rigadoon" -VIII. "Fortune! An unrelenting foe to love" -IX. Denounced -X. How my lord returned home -XI. Archibald's escape -XII. Hey! for France -XIII. Man and wife -XIV. Flight -XV. United -XVI. "Treason has done his worst" -XVII. Gasconism -XVIII. "What face that haunts me?" -XIX. "Which way I fly is hell--myself am hell!" -XX. Avenged -XXI. The Bastille -XXII. Despair! -XXIII. At last -XXIV. Broken hearts -XXV. "His hours to their last minute mounted" -XXVI. Kate learns she is free -XXVII. Afar off still -XXVIII. "A kind of change came in my fate" -XXIX. Free -XXX. The marquis goes home -XXXI. "An outstayed welcome" -XXXII. "Love strong as death!" - - Appendix - - - - - - -DENOUNCED. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -A HOME COMING. - - -It was a wild and stormy sea through which the bluff-bowed Galliot -laboured, as, tossed first from one wave to another, she, with -the best part of her gear stowed away and no sail on her but a -close-reefed main-topsail and a spanker, endeavoured to make her way -towards the Suffolk coast. On the poop, the captain--a young man of -not more than thirty--hurled orders and oaths indiscriminately at his -crew, every man of which was a good deal older than himself, while the -crew themselves worked hard at hauling up the brails, going out on the -gaff to pass the gaskets, and stowing the mainsail-yard. But still she -laboured and rolled and yawed, her forefoot pointing at one moment -almost to the Dutch coast and at another to the English--she had left -Calais thirty hours before, intending to fetch Dover, and had been -blown thus far out of her course--and it seemed as though she would -never get any nearer to the land she wished to reach. And, to make -matters worse, lying some distance off on her starboard beam--though -too far to be distinguished through the haze in the air and the spume -of the waves--was a large vessel about which those on board could not -decide as to whether she was one of King George's sloops or--a -privateer. The young captain trusted it was the first, since he had no -quarrel with either his Majesty or his navy, and had no men who could -be pressed, while the passengers in the cabin--but this you shall -read. - -In that cabin there sat four persons, three men and a woman--the last -of whom shall be first described. A woman young--of not more than -twenty-four years of age--fair and well-favoured, her wheat-coloured -hair brought back in a knot behind her head, above which, as was still -the custom of the time for ladies when travelling, she wore a -three-cornered hat. Wrapped in a long, collarless coat, square cut and -possessing no pockets--also the custom of the time--it was still easy -to perceive that, underneath, was a supple, graceful figure, and, -when--as was occasionally the case--this long coat was thrown open so -that the wearer might get a little relief from the stuffiness of the -cabin, the beauty of that figure might plainly be perceived beneath -the full scarlet waistcoat embroidered with gold lace, which, by its -plenitude of pockets, atoned for the absence of any in the coat. Her -face was, as has been said, a well-favoured one, oval, and possessing -large blue eyes and delicate, thin lips, and with upon it even here, -on this tossing sea, a fair rose and milk complexion, while in those -large eyes the observer might have well imagined he saw a look of -unhappiness. Also, too, a look of contempt whenever they rested on the -man who, as she leant an elbow on one side of the table between them, -leant one of his on the other. - -They rested on him now with much that look as, pushing over to her a -glass of burnt wine which the cabin-boy has just brought in at his -orders, as well as some ratafia biscuits, he said: - -"I would counsel you, my lady, to partake of a little more -refreshment. I have spoken with the master outside who says that by no -chance can we make Harwich ere nightfall. Your ladyship, excellent -sailor as you are, must have a care to your health." - -"My health," she replied, "needs no care, either from myself or you. -And when I am athirst I will drink, as when I am hungry I will eat. -You had best offer your refreshments to our fellow-passengers." - -The man to whom she spake was but two or three years older than -herself--and was her husband, Simeon Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge. -He, too, was well dressed in the travelling costume of the day, -wearing a black frock with a gold button, a black waistcoat trimmed -with gold, black velvet breeches, and a gold-laced three-cornered hat, -while on the table lay a silver-hilted hanger that slid about with -every motion of the vessel. In looks he was her equal, being, however, -as dark as she was fair, but of well-cut, even features and of a clear -complexion. He wore, too, his natural hair, cropped somewhat short as -though a wig might in other circumstances be easily assumed, but the -absence of this article of dress in no way detracted from his -appearance. - -As her ladyship spoke he darted one swift glance at her from under his -eyelids--a glance that seemed to embody in it a full return of all the -coldness and contempt with which she had addressed him; and then, -acting on her suggestion, he turned to the two other inhabitants of -the cabin and said: - -"Come, Father Sholto, and you, Fane, come and take a sup of the -liquor. 'Twill do you both good. Come and drink." - -"Ah, the drink, the drink," exclaimed the latter, "well, give me a -sup. Maybe 'twill appease a qualm. Kitty, me child," turning to Lady -Fordingbridge, "why do ye not do as your husband asks? 'Tis a good -stomachic--by the powers! how the barky rolls." - -"I want nothing," her ladyship replied, lifting her eyes to him with -almost as contemptuous a glance as when she had previously raised them -to her husband, and then relapsing again into silence. - -"I, too," said the other man, who had been addressed as "Father -Sholto," "will take a sup, she does roll badly. Yet, my lord," he -said, as he poured some out into a mug that stood by the liquor, "let -me persuade you to be more guarded in your expressions. To forget, -indeed," he went on, while his cold grey eyes were fixed on the other, -"that there is such a person as 'Father Sholto' in existence for the -present; that such a well-known ecclesiastic is travelling in your -Lordship's esteemed company. For," he continued, after swallowing the -liquor at a gulp, "I do assure you--Fane, see that the door of the -cabin is fast! and that none of the crew are about!--you could not -make your entry into your own country, could not return to make your -peace with King George, the Elector of Hanover--with a worse companion -in your train than the man who is known as 'Father Sholto.' -Therefore----" - -"Therefore," interrupted Lord Fordingbridge impatiently, "I will not -forget again, Mr. Archibald. Enough!" - -"Therefore," continued the other, as though no interruption had -occurred, still in the cold, low voice and still with the cold grey -eyes fixed on his lordship, "it is best you do not forget, at least, -at present. Later, if your memory fails you--I have known it -treacherous ere now--it will be of little importance. Charles Edward, -the Prince of Wales, is at Edinburgh, soon he will be at St. James'; -but until he is, remember what we are. You are the Viscount -Fordingbridge, but lately succeeded to your father's title, and a -convert from his Jacobitism to Hanoverian principles; her ladyship -here, who is ever to be depended upon, follows your estimable -political principles; her respected father, Mr. Doyle Fane, has, he -avers, no politics at all; and I am Mr. Archibald, a Scotch merchant. -You will remember?" - -"_Peste!_ Yes. I will remember. Tutor me no more. Now, Fane, the sea -abates somewhat--go and discover if we are near the English coast. -And, Mr. Archibald, I have a word to say to my lady here, with your -permission. As I am at the expense of this passage, may I ask for a -moment's privacy with her? Doubtless the air on the deck will refresh -you both." - -"Precisely," replied the other. "We will not intrude unless it grows -again so rough that we cannot remain on deck. Come, Fane." - -When both had left the cabin Lord Fordingbridge turned to his wife who -still sat, as she had done from the beginning of Mr. Archibald's -remarks, indifferent and motionless as though in no way interested in -what had passed, and exclaimed: - -"You hear, madam, the circumstances in which I return to my own. 'Tis -not too agreeable, I protest. We are Roman Catholics, yet we come as -Protestants, Jacobites, yet under the garb and mask of Hanoverians. -And in our train a Jesuit priest, arch-plotter, and schemer, who -passes as a respectable Scotch merchant. A sorry home coming, indeed!" - -"If such duplicity is painful to your lordship's mind," his wife -remarked, "'twould almost have been best to have remained in exile. -Then you would have been safe, at least, and have done no outrage to -your--conscience. And, later, when those who are fighting for Prince -Charles have re-established him upon his grandfather's throne--if they -ever do!--you could have declared yourself without fear of -consequences." - -No word, nor tone of her sneer was lost upon Lord Fordingbridge, and -he turned savagely upon her. - -"Have a care, my lady," he exclaimed, "have a care. There are ways in -my power you little dream of by which if your defiance----" - -"Defiance!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Defiance! You dare to use that -term to me. You!" - -"Ay! Defiance. What! Shall the daughter of Doyle Fane, the broken-down -Irish adventurer, the master of the fence school in the Rue Trousse -Vache, flout and gibe me--the man who took her from a garret and made -her a lady--a peeress. I--I--" - -"Yes!" she replied. "You! You--who have earned for ever her undying -hatred by doing so; by making her a lady by lies, by intriguing, by -duplicity. A lady! Yet your wife! Had you left me in the Rue Trousse -Vache--in the garret over the fence school--whose wife should I have -been now? Answer that, Simeon Larpent, answer that." - -"The wife of a man," he said, quietly and calm again in a moment, for -he had the power to allay the tempestuous gusts that overtook him -occasionally almost as quickly as they arose, "who, if the fates are -not more propitious than I deem they will be, rides at the present -moment to his doom, to a halter that awaits him. A man who rides on a -fruitless journey to England as volunteer with his cousin Balmerino in -the train of Charles Edward; a man----" - -"Whom," she interrupted again, "I loved with my whole heart and soul; -whom I loved from the first hour my eyes ever gazed on him. A man whom -you separated me from with your Jesuitical lies--they did well to -educate you at Lisbon and St. Omer--a man who, if God is just, as I do -believe, shall yet live to take a desperate vengeance on you. And for -the reason that he may do so, I pray night and day that Charles Edward -will fight his way to London. Then you must meet--unless you flee back -to France again--then, Lord Fordingbridge, you must stand face to face -with him at last. Then----" - -"Then you trust to be a widow. Is it not so, my lady? You will be free -then, and Bertie Elphinston may have the bride I stole from him. Is -that your devout aspiration?" - -"Alas, no!" she replied. "Or, if it is, it can never come to pass. If -Bertie Elphinston saw me now he would shrink from me. He would not -touch my hand. He would pass across the street to avoid me." - -As she uttered the last words there came from over the swirling, -troubled sea the boom of a cannon, accompanied a moment afterwards by -harsh cries and orders from the deck of the Galliot, and by the -rattling of cordage and a sudden cessation of the slight way that was -still on the vessel. - -"What does that gun mean?" asked Lord Fordingbridge as he started to -his feet, while Fane and Mr. Archibald re-entered the cabin hastily. - -"It means," said the disguised Jesuit, who spoke as coolly and calmly -as ever, "that the vessel which has been following us since dawn is -King George's--he forgot on this occasion to term the English king -'the Elector of Hanover'--Bomb-ketch the 'Furnace.' She has fired the -gun to bring us to. Doubtless they wish to inspect our papers and to -see there are no malignant priests or Jacobites on board. We are now -in English waters and within two miles of Harwich, therefore they are -quite within their rights." - -"Bah!" exclaimed his lordship. "Let them come. What have we to fear?" - -"Nothing whatever," replied Mr. Archibald. "The Viscount Fordingbridge -is an accession to the usurper's Whig peers; a harmless Irish -gentleman, such as Mr. Doyle Fane, and a simple Scotch merchant, such -as I, can do no harm. While for her ladyship here----" - -"Come, come on deck," said his lordship, "and let us see what is -doing. Will it please you to remain here, my lady?" he asked, turning -to his wife with an evil glance in his eye. - -"Yes," she replied, "if they wish to see me I shall be found here." - -The sea had abated considerably by now, so that already a boat had -been lowered from the ketch, which was not more than five cables -length from the Galliot by the time they reached the deck. It was -manned by a dozen sailors while an officer sat in the stern sheets, -and the brawny arms of the men soon brought it alongside. Then, while -the seamen kept the boat off the Galliot with their hands and oars, -the officer seized the man-ropes thrown over to him, and easily sprang -up the accommodation ladder on to the deck. - -"What vessel is this?" he asked fiercely of the captain, "and what -passengers do you carry?" - -"It is the Bravermann, of Rotterdam, sir," the young captain replied, -"chartered at Calais to bring his lordship and wife with two other -passengers to Dover. We are blown off our course, however, and----" - -"Where are these passengers?" asked the officer. - -"Here is one," said Lord Fordingbridge, coming forward, "and here two -others whom I have accommodated with a passage. Her ladyship is in the -cabin." - -"Your papers, if you please." - -His lordship produced from his pocket two large documents, duly signed -by the English ambassador and countersigned by the first secretary of -the Legation, while to them was also affixed a stamp of the Mairie; -and the lieutenant, for such he was, glanced over them, compared the -description of the viscount with that of the person before him, and -then said he must see her ladyship. - -"Come this way then," the other replied, and led him into the cabin. -"My lady," he said to his wife, "this gentleman wishes to compare you -with your description on our passports." - -Very calmly Lady Fordingbridge turned her eyes on the lieutenant as -he, touching his hat to her, glanced at the paper and retired saying -he was satisfied. Then, turning to the others, he said, "Now your -passports, quick." - -Fane and Mr. Archibald also passed his scrutiny, though once he looked -under his eyelids at the latter as if to make sure he was the man -whose description he held in his hand, and then their passports were -also returned to them. - -"Let me see over the ship and also her papers," he said to the -captain, and when this was done he seemed satisfied that his duty had -been performed. - -"You may proceed," he said. "Call the boat away," and with such scant -ceremony he went to the ship's side and prepared to re-embark in his -own cutter. - -"Pardon me," exclaimed the viscount, stopping him, "but we have heard -strange rumours in Paris of a landing effected in Scotland by the -Prince of--the person known as the Young Pretender. Also we have heard -he has reached Edinburgh and been joined by many persons of position -in Scotland, and that an English army has set forth to oppose his -further march. Can you tell me, sir, if this is true?" - -"I know nothing whatever on the subject," replied the lieutenant, -curtly as usual. "His Majesty's land forces concern us not; our -account is on the sea. And our duty is to search all unknown vessels -proceeding to England to see that they bear neither Jacobites, -pestilential priests, arms, nor money with them. Is the boat there?" - -Hearing that she had again come alongside, having kept off the Galliot -to prevent her being stowed in, he descended swiftly to her without -deigning to award the slightest salute to anyone on board. But as his -men pulled off he saw the face of Lady Fordingbridge gazing out from -the cabin porthole, and raised his hat to her. - -"Yet," said Mr. Archibald to the viscount, as they sat once more in -the cabin while the vessel now entered smooth water and drew close in -to Harwich, "whatever his duty may be he has not been wondrous happy -in carrying it out. For there are Jacobites, a pestilential priest, -and money for the cause all in this ship together, arms alone being -wanting. Faugh! he was a rough sea-dog, yet none too good a setter. -Well, well. Perhaps in this town we may glean some news." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. - - -The month of May, 1746, was drawing to a close, and June was already -giving signs of its approach, as my Lord Viscount Fordingbridge sat in -the library of his house in Kensington-square and warmed his feet at -the fire which, in spite of the genial spring weather, burned -pleasantly on the hearth. By his side, on a table, lay the morning -papers of the day to which he constantly referred, and which, after -each occasion of doing so, he threw down with a very palpable -expression of satisfaction. - -"In truth," he muttered to himself, "nought could have gone much -better. I am safe and--and the necks of all the rest are jeopardised. -Jeopardised! Nay! 'tis much worse than that. Those who are caught must -surely die, those who are not caught must be so ere long. As for -Charles Edward himself he hath escaped. Well, let him go; I have no -quarrel with him." - -Again he took up one of the journals and read: - -"This morning his Majesty's ship of war, Exeter, arrived from -Scotland, having on board the Earls of Cromartie and Kilmarnock, and -the Lord Balmerino. They have been committed prisoners to the Tower on -a charge of high treason." "Ah," he mused, "that's well, so far as it -goes, though for myself I care not whether their lordships finish on -Tower Hill or are set free. Fools all! Yet they were near winning, the -devil seize them! had they but pushed on from Derby they must have -won, and the German who now sits secure would never have had my -allegiance. Charles Edward would have transformed my title into that -of a marquis, I doubt me if George will do as much in reward for my -change of politics. But what I would fain know is, where is the -wolf Elphinston, Balmerino's cousin? He fought at Culloden, I know -well--recklessly, like a man sick of life. Perhaps 'twas for his lost -love, Kitty! At least in Hawley's despatch he is mentioned as having -killed four men of Barrell's regiment with his own blade. May Fate -confound him! if taken his life is forfeit, but where is he?" - -A knock came at the library door as he mused, and in reply to his -answer Mr. Archibald entered. As usual, certainly since he left -France, he was clothed as became the part he had now assumed, of a -well-to-do Scotch merchant, there being only one new addition to any -portion of his dress. His hat, which he threw carelessly upon the -table, on the top of his lordship's journals, bore in it the _black_ -cockade! - -"Ha, ha! my worthy merchant," exclaimed Lord Fordingbridge, as his -quick eye perceived this, "my worthy dealer in brocades, broadcloth, -and Colchester baize, so already thou trimmest the sails to catch the -favouring German breezes. 'Tis well." - -"Stop this fooling," said the Jesuit, looking angrily at him; "is this -the time for you to be joking and jeering when everything is lost? You -have the journals there, you know well what has happened. The -principals of the noblest cause, of the most sublime restoration that -would have ever taken place, are prisoners with their lives in -forfeit, some in London, some in Carlisle gaol, and some at Inverness, -and you sit gibing there. _Pardieu!_ sometimes I think you are a fool -instead of the knave I once deemed you." - -"If," said the viscount, scowling at the other as he spoke, "you deem -yourself called upon to address me in such a manner, I shall be -forced, Mr. Archibald, to also alter my style of address to you, and -to speak both to and of you as the Reverend Archibald Sholto, priest -of the Society of Jesus, and an avowed Jacobite. And you will remember -that here, in England, at such a moment as this, to be so proclaimed -could not be otherwise than fraught with unpleasant consequences to -you. Moreover, you will have the goodness to remember that now--since -the disastrous events, to your side, of Culloden, the Viscount -Fordingbridge is a fervent Hanoverian." - -"I will remember," said the priest, "that however desirous the -Viscount Fordingbridge may be to espouse the cause of the House of -Hanover, it is not in his power to do so, so long as there remains one -Stuart to assert a claim to the throne of his ancestors. When that -race ceases to exist, when no living Stuart is left to call for aid, -then perhaps, you may be permitted to become Hanoverian, not before. -Now, my Lord Fordingbridge, listen to me, while I go over the cards I -hold in my hand against Simeon Larpent, my whilom scholar at St. Omer, -who----" - -"Nay!" exclaimed the other, "do nothing of the sort. I retract, I had -forgotten. Recall nothing. Yet, for my safety, I must appear an -adherent of King George. Indeed, to-morrow I attend his levée." - -"For the good of the Stuart cause," the other said, "you will continue -as you have begun since your return to this country, to appear an -adherent of this King George; for the good of the cause that is not -yet lost. There will be another rising ere long, be sure of that; if -it comes not before, it will do so at the death of the present -usurper. Now, listen to the news I bring you." - -"What is it?" the other asked, while he paled as he did so. "What?" - -"The worst that you can hear. Elphinston is in London." - -"Elphinston here! Is he mad? His life is not worth an hour's -purchase." - -"He knows that," replied the Jesuit coolly, "as well as you or I do. -Yet he heeds it not. Why should he? Are not other men's lives doomed -who are now in London? Men who," he went on, speaking coldly and with -great distinctness, "brought money into England to aid the cause; -men," still his voice fell more and more crisp upon the other's ear, -"who did endeavour to compass the death of George as he returned from -his last visit to Herrenhausen; men who----" - -"Silence, you Jesuit devil," interrupted the other. "Sometimes I -wonder that you do not fear to speak as you do; that you do not dread -that your own death may be compassed." - -"I have no fear," replied the priest, taking snuff as he spoke, "so -long as the walls of St. Omer contain my papers. Rather should I fear -for those whose secrets would be divulged if I were to die. To die -even suddenly, without being assassinated." - -"Well! to your news," exclaimed the other. "What of Elphinston! Where -does he hide himself away?" - -"At the moment," answered the priest, "he--and my brother -Douglas----" - -"So he is here, too!" - -"He is here, too. They dwell together in lodgings at the village of -Wandsworth. Perhaps later, if it goes ill with Balmerino, they may -remove into the City." - -"To make some mad attempt to save him!" - -"Possibly. Meanwhile, do you not dread to meet the man yourself! You -stole his bride from him, you will remember, and now he suspects how -you brought it about. How will you answer to him for the falsehoods by -which you persuaded her that he was already the husband of another -woman?" - -"By my sword," Lord Fordingbridge replied--though at the moment he was -thinking of a far different manner in which Bertie Elphinstone should -be answered. - -"It will be your only plan," Sholto said. "For by treachery you can -accomplish nothing. If Elphinston is blown upon he will know well who -is his informer and will, in his turn, inform. Inform upon the man who -plotted to have George's person seized by French pirates as he -returned to England from France, the man who spread broadcast through -England the reward offered by Prince Charles of £30,000 to whomsoever -should seize and secure George----"[Note A] - -"Why," exclaimed Fordingbridge, maddened by the other's taunts, "why -do you persecute me like this? What have I ever done to you that you -threaten me thus?" - -"Recall," replied the Jesuit, "your vows at St. Omer, your sins since, -your broken pledges, your cancelled oaths. Then answer to yourself why -I do these things. Moreover, remember I love my brother--he has been -my charge since his boyhood--and if Elphinston is betrayed Douglas -must fall too. Also remember, Elphinston has been ever beloved by me. -You have inflicted one deadly wound on him, you have wrecked his life -by striking him through his love--think you that I will ever permit -you to injure him again? Man!" the Jesuit said, advancing nearer to -Fordingbridge as he spoke, and standing before him in so threatening a -manner that the other shrank back from him, "if evil comes to -Elphinston through you, such evil shall in turn come to you through me -that I will rend your life for ever and always. Remember, I say again, -remember." - -He took his hat from off the table as he finished, and left the room -addressing no further remark to the other. And, quietly as he ever -moved, he was about to descend the stairs when Lady Fordingbridge -coming from out an open door, stopped him. - -"I wish to speak to you," she said, in a soft, low voice, "come within -a moment," and, followed by Sholto, she led him back into the room she -had just quitted. Here, too, a warm pleasant fire burned in the grate, -while an agreeable aroma of violets stole through the apartment; and -motioning her visitor to a seat her ladyship said: - -"Is the news true? Are they--is Mr. Elphinston in London?" - -"It is true, Kitty," he said. "Yet I know not how you heard it." - -"From my father who dreads as much to meet him as the craven in his -library must do." She paused a moment, then she continued, "Have you -seen him?" - -"Yes," he said, "I have seen him." - -"And," she asked, wistfully, "did he send no word of pardon--to me?" - -The Jesuit shook his head, though in a gentle kindly manner, ere he -replied. "No, child. He spoke not of you." - -She sat gazing into the embers for a few moments more; then she went -on. - -"Yet he must know, he cannot but know how basely I was deceived. You -told me months ago that he had learnt some of the story from your -brother's lips, who learnt it from you. Is there no room for pity in -his heart? Will he never forgive?" - -"If he thinks aught," said the Jesuit, still very gently, to her, "it -is that you should never have believed so base a tale. So at least he -tells Douglas. To me he has never spoken of the matter." - -"Alas!" she said. "How could I doubt? Lord Fordingbridge I might have -disbelieved, but my father!" and here she shuddered. "How could I -think that he would stoop to practise such lies, such duplicity, on -his own child?" - -Father Sholto made no answer to this remark, contenting himself with -lifting his hands from his knees and warming the palms at the fire. -And so they sat, neither speaking for two or three moments. Then she -said: - -"Father, will you take a letter to him from me?" - -This time he lifted his bushy eyebrows instead of his hands, and -looked at her from underneath them. Next he shrugged his shoulders, -and then he said: - -"Kitty, for you I will do anything, for you who have ever been a -dutiful daughter of the Church, ay! and a loyal adherent to a now -sadly broken cause. Yet, child, what use to write? Nothing can undo -what is done; you must make the best of matters. Solace your wounded -heart with the rank you have gained, with your husband's now -comfortable means, your reception at the Court of the Hanoverian king, -for king he is, and, I fear, must be. However great the evil that was -done, it must be borne. You and Bertie Elphinston are sundered for -ever in this world, unless----" - -"Unless?" she repeated, with a swift glance from her eyes. - -"You both survive him. Yet, how shall such a thing be! He is no older -than Elphinston himself, and, much as he has wronged that other, no -reparation, not even his life, would set things right. If Bertie slew -him he could not marry his victim's widow." - -"Alas! alas!" said Lady Fordingbridge, "the last thing he would wish -to do now, even were I free, would be to have me for his wife. Me whom -once he loved so tenderly." - -Once more the Jesuit twitched up his great eyebrows and muttered -something to himself, and then seemed bent in thought. And as Kitty -sat watching him she caught disconnected whispers from his lips. -"Douglas might do it," she heard him say; "that way the gate would be -open. Yet he cannot be spared, not yet," until at last he ceased, -after which, looking up from his reverie, he said to her: - -"What do you wish to write to him, child? You, the Viscountess -Fordingbridge, must have a care as to your epistles to unmarried men." - -"Be under no apprehension," she replied. "Yet, if--if--he would pardon -me, would send me one little line to say--God!--that he does not hate -me--oh! that he who once loved me so should come to hate me--then, -then I might again be happy, a little happy. Father, I must write to -him." - -"So be it," he answered. "Write if you must. I will convey the -letter." - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A WOMAN'S LETTER. - - -The next night Father Sholto, who was lodged in Lord Fordingbridge's -house, took a hackney coach through the fields to Chelsea Church, and -so was ferried across to Battersea. Then, because the evening was soft -and mild and there was a young moon, he decided to walk on by the road -to the next village, namely Wandsworth, which lay half an hour further -on. - -"Poor Kitty," he thought to himself, as he felt the packet she had -confided to him press against his breast, "poor Kitty! Why could she -not have believed in Bertie's truth? Surely anything might have been -set against the word of such a creature as Simeon Larpent, pupil of -mine though he be. _Peste!_ why was not I in Paris when all was -happening? By now they would have been happy. They could have lived in -France or Italy. We, the Society," and he crossed himself as he went -on, "would have found the wherewithal; or even in America they might -have, perhaps, been safe. Yet now! Now! Elphinston is a heartbroken -man; Kitty, a heartbroken woman. Alas! alas!" - -With meditations such as these, for political Scotch Jesuit as -Archibald Sholto was, and fierce partisan of his countrymen, Charles -Stuart and his father James, there beat a kindly heart within him, he -reached the long, straggling village street of Wandsworth. Then, -turning off somewhat sharply to the right, he emerged after another -five minutes upon a road above the strand of the river, on which, set -back in shady gardens, in which grew firs, cedars, and chestnut trees, -were some antique and picturesque houses built a hundred years before. - -At one of these, the first he came to, he knocked three times on the -garden gate and rang a bell, the handle of which was set high in the -door frame; and then in a moment a strong, heavy tread was heard -coming from the house to the gate. - -"Who is it?" a man's voice asked from within. - -"_Nunquam triumphans_,"[1] was the priest's answer, softly given, and -as he spoke the postern door was opened, and a tall man stood before -Sholto. In a moment their hands were clasped in each other's and their -greetings exchanged. - -"'Tis good of you, Archie, to come again to-night," his younger -brother said to him; "have you brought more news? How fares it with -those in the Tower?" - -"Ill," replied the other. "As ill as may be. The trials are -fixed, 'tis said, for July at latest. One will, however, escape. -Tullibardine----" - -"The Marquis of Tullibardine escape! Why, then, there is hope for the -others!" - -"Ay!" replied the elder brother, "there is, by the same way. -Tullibardine is dying in the Tower. His life draws to a close." - -"Pish! What use such an escape? But come in, Archie. Bertie looks ever -for you." Then he stopped on the gravel path and, gazing into the -other's face as it shone in the moonlight, he said, "What of Kitty? -Have you told her he is in London?" - -"Ay," replied the Jesuit, "and have on me now a letter to him from -her, suing, I believe, for forgiveness. Douglas!" he exclaimed, -seizing the other by the arm, "Bertie must pardon her. You must make -him. Otherwise----" - -"What?" - -"I fear I know not what. Her love for him is what it ever was, -stronger, fiercer, may be, because of the treachery that tore them -asunder; she thinks of him alone. And if she grows desperate Heaven -knows what may be the outcome of it. Murder of Simeon! betrayal of -him! Self-slaughter! She is capable of all or any, if goaded too far. -He must forgive her." - -"Forgive her!" exclaimed his younger brother. "Forgive her! Why, who -shall doubt it; what possesses your mind? There is no fear of that. -No, that is not what there is to fear." - -"What then?" asked Archibald, bewildered. - -"That if they should once again meet no power on earth could ever part -them more. Even now he broods all day, and night too, on finding her, -on carrying her off by force. There are scores of our countrymen in -London in disguise who would do it for him at his bidding or help him -to do it as well as to slay Fordingbridge. I tell you, Archie, he -would stand at nothing. Nothing! Why, man, as we fought side by side -at Prestonpans he muttered a score of times, 'Kate, Kate, Kate.' And -once, as he cut down an officer of Fowke's dragoons, he exclaimed, -'Each Hanoverian dog who falls brings us so much the nearer to London -and me to Kate.' Faith! though the battle lasted but four minutes, he -muttered her name ten times as often." - -"Come," said the other, "let us go in to him. I would I knew what is -best to do. Ah, well! most affairs settle themselves. Pray Heaven this -one may." - -Over a fire, burning in an ancient grate constructed for the -consumption of wood alone, they found Bertie Elphinston brooding, as -his friend had described. And as all the Scotch had done who had -sought a hiding-place in London after the defeat of the Stuart army in -Scotland, any marks that might proclaim their nationality had been -carefully exchanged--where the purse allowed--for more English traits -and characteristics. Therefore Elphinston was now clad as any other -gentleman of the time might be, plainly but well--a branched velvet -coat with a satin lining, a black silk embroidered waistcoat, and -breeches of velvet in keeping with the coat constituting his dress, -while he wore his own hair, of a dark-brown colour and slightly curly. -Against the side of the large open-mouthed grate and near to his hand -there reclined an ordinary plate-handled sword, with the belt hanging -to it as when unbuckled from the body; deeper in a recess might be -seen two claymores, with which weapons the Scotch had recently -inflicted such deadly slaughter on the Duke of Cumberland's troops. - -"Ha, Archie!" exclaimed the young man, springing up from his chair and -grasping the Jesuit's hand, "welcome, old friend. So you have found -your way here once more. _A la bonne chance!_ Yet," he went on, while -his handsome face clouded again with the gloomy look that it had borne -before lighting up at the entrance of their friend, "why say so! You -can bring us no good news now--you can," he said in a lower voice, -"bring me none. Yet speak, Archie, how is it with our poor friends?" - -"As before. There is no news, except that their trials are fixed. -Yet all bear up well, the head of your house especially so. He jests -ever--p'raps 'tis to cheer his wife more than for aught else. She is -admitted to see him, and brings and takes our news, and he sends -always, through her, his love to you. Also he bids you begone from out -of England, you and Douglas both, since there can be no safety for you -in it. The king is implacable, he will spare none." - -"And the Prince, our Prince," asked Elphinston, "what of him; is he -safe?" - -"He is not taken," replied the other. "We know nought else. But in -truth, it is partly to endorse Lord Balmerino's injunction that I am -here to-night. Both of you must begone. London is no place for -Jacobites of any degree; for those who have recently fought the peril -is deadly. Already the whole town is searched from end to end. The -Tower is full of prisoners. From noble lords down to the meanest, it -is crammed with them. Gallows are already being put up on Kennington -Common; soon the slaughter will begin. My boys, you must back to -France." - -"Douglas may go if he will," replied Elphinston, looking at his -comrade. "I remain here. I have something to do." Then he said -quietly, "Where is Lord Fordingbridge?" - -"At present in London, but he leaves for his seat in Cheshire -to-morrow. Bertie," the Jesuit exclaimed, "if what you have to do is -with him it must be postponed. To seek out Fordingbridge now would be -your undoing." - -"And his wife--does--does she go too?" - -"No," the other replied, "she stays in London. Bertie, I have brought -you a letter from her." - -"A letter from Kate--Lady Fordingbridge--to me! To me! What does it -mean? What can have caused her to write to me?" - -"Best read the letter," replied the other. "And as you read it -think--try to think--kindly of her. Remember, too, that whatever she -was to you once, she is now another man's wife. However great a -villain he may be, remember that." - -"Give me the letter," Elphinston said briefly. - -Sholto took from his pocket the little packet; then, as he gave it to -the other, he said, "Douglas and I will leave you to its perusal. The -night is fine, he can walk with me to Battersea. Farewell." - -"Farewell," returned Elphinston. "And--and--tell her ladyship if there -is aught to answer such answer will be sent." - -"Be careful of your messengers. Remember. Danger surrounds you." - -"I shall remember." - -When they were gone, his friend saying he would be back in an hour's -time, the young man turned the letter over more than once ere he broke -the seal--it bore no address upon it, perhaps for safety's sake--and -then, at last, he opened it and commenced its perusal. And as he did -so and saw the once familiar handwriting, he sighed profoundly more -than once. Yet soon he was engrossed in the contents. They ran as -follows: - -"I hear you are in London and that at last is it possible for me -to do what I have long desired--though hitherto no opportunity has -arisen--namely, to explain that which in your eyes may seem to be my -treachery to you. - -"Mr. Elphinston, when you and I last parted, I was your affianced -wife; I write to you now as the wife of another man to ask you for -your pardon. If I set down all as it came to pass it may be that, at -least, you will cease to hate my memory--the memory of my name. -Nightly I pray that such may some day be the case. Thereby at last I -may know ease, though never again happiness in this world. - -"When you quitted Paris a year ago you went, as you said you were -going, to Rome on a message to the Pope connected with the Cause. -Alas! you and Father Sholto had not been sped a week ere very -different tidings reached me. My father--God forgive him!--first -poisoned my ears with rumours--which he said were spread not only over -all Paris but also at St. Germains, Vincennes, and Marly--that it was -on no political matter that you had departed. It was known--even I -knew so much, I had jested with you about it, had even been sore on -the subject--that Madeleine Baufremont, of the Queen's Chamber, -admired you. Now, so said my unhappy father, with well-acted misery, -it was whispered that she and you had gone away together. Moreover, he -said there was no doubt that you and she were married. He even named -the church at which the marriage had taken place at Moret, beyond -Fontainebleau." - -"So, so," muttered Bertie Elphinston, as he read. "I see. I begin to -see. 'Tis as I thought, though I did not know this. Well, a better lie -than one might have hoped." - -"Next," the letter continued, "there came to me the man who is now my -husband--then, as you know, the Honourable Simeon Larpent, his father -being still alive. Needless to tell you, Mr. Elphinston, of how this -man had ever sought my love; first, because of our poverty, in a -manner alike disgraceful to both, and next, when that design failed, -in a more honourable fashion. Yet, of no avail when you---- But -enough. You also know well how every plea of his was rejected by me. - -"He, too, told the same tale. He protested to me that on the morning -you left St. Germains Madeleine Baufremont set out on the same -southern road, that your carriages met and joined at Étampes, and that -thence you travelled together to Moret." - -"The devil can indeed speak the truth," muttered Bertie, as he read -thus far. - -"Still, I would not--I could not--believe. Our last parting was -fresh in my mind, ay! in my heart; our last vows and last farewells, -our projects for the future, our hopes of days of happiness to -come--forgive me if I remind you of them--they are wrecked now! I say -I could not believe. Yet, wherever I looked, wherever I made -inquiries, there was but one answer. The English, Scotch, and Irish -gentlemen who frequented my father's house all gave the same answer, -though none spake the words I feared. Some, I observed, regarded me -with glances that were full of pity--for which I hated them--others -preserved a silence that was worse tenfold than speech, some smiled in -their sleeves. And Larpent was ever there--always, always, always. And -one day he came to where I was sitting and said to me, 'Kitty, if you -will indeed know the truth, there is a witness below who can give it -to you. The _curé_ of Moret has come to Paris with a petition to the -king against the exactions of the Seigneur. Kitty, he it was who made -Bertie Elphinston and Madeleine Baufremont man and wife." - -"'So be it,' I replied. 'Yet, remember their marriage makes ours no -nearer.' 'It will come,' he replied. 'I can not believe that my reward -will never come.' Whereon he left the room and came back with the -_curé_. Alas! he told so plain a tale, describing you with such -precision and Madeleine Baufremont also, that there was, indeed, no -room left for doubt. Yet still I could scarce believe; for even though -you had not loved me, even though your burning words, your whispers of -love had all been false, why, why, I asked again and again, should you -have stooped to such duplicity? If you had tired of me, if that other -had turned your heart from me to her, one word would have been enough; -I must have let you go when you no longer desired to stay by my side. -Mr. Elphinston, I wrote to you at Rome, to the address you had given -me and to the English College there; I wrote to Father Sholto--alas! I -so much forgot my pride, that I wrote to Douglas, who had then joined -the squadron commanded by Monsieur de Roquefeuille for the invasion of -England. I could not part from you yet"--these words were scored out -by the writer, and, in their place, the sentence began--"I could not -yet believe in your deceit, in your cold, cruel betrayal of a woman -who had trusted in you as in a god; it seemed all too base and -heartless. Yet neither from you nor the Sholtos came one line in -answer to my prayer." - -Elphinston groaned bitterly as he read the words. He knew now how -easily the trap had been laid. - -"Then, at last, I did believe. Then, at last, I renounced you and your -love. I denied to my own heart that I had ever known a man named -Bertie Elphinston, that I had ever been that man's promised wife. I -tore you from my heart for ever. It was hard, yet I did it. Time -passed, no intelligence came of you or Madeleine Baufremont. I even -heard that the Duc de Baufremont had petitioned the king that, if you -again entered French territory, you should be punished for abducting -his daughter. Yet, as the days went on, I allowed Simeon Larpent to -approach me no nearer on the subject. So he and my father concocted a -fresh scheme by which I was at last led to consent to become his wife. -We were, as you know, poor, horribly poor; the _Cours d'Escrime_ -hardly provided for our needs. Often, indeed, I had wondered how we -managed to subsist so well on what seemed to me to be nothing. My -father talked vaguely of an allowance to him, in common with other -refugees from England, from the French king or from the Chevalier St. -George, or the Scotch Fund. Now--for at this period the old Lord -Fordingbridge died--he said we had been subsisting for some time on -money lent, or we could, if we chose, consider it given to us, by the -present lord. He would never, my father said, demand repayment; -indeed, such was his lordship's respect for him and his admiration for -me, that he would cheerfully continue his allowance, or, since he was -now very well-to-do, increase it. So I learnt that I had been -dependent for the bread I ate, the dress I wore, to this man. Need I -say more! You know that I became the wife of Lord Fordingbridge. - -"A month had not passed ere I knew the truth as to how I had been -duped and deceived--as to how I had been false to you. De -Roquefeuille's squadron was driven back by Sir John Norris, and -Douglas Sholto returned to Paris. He told me all; that it was your -kinsman and namesake of Glenbervie who had left Paris with you to -espouse Madeleine Baufremont, and that you--tied under a solemn -promise to in no way let his approaching marriage with her be -known--had kept the secret even from me. Alas! had you given me one -hint, spoken one word, how different all would have been! Yet, I do -not reproach you for fidelity to your friend; I only ask that when you -think of me--if you ever think at all--as not trusting you, you will -recollect that your own silence made it possible for me to doubt. - -"One word more, and I shall not trouble you further. It is to beseech -you to quit London at once, to put yourself in safety, with the seas -between you and the English Government. For, even though you might lie -hid from the vengeance that will fall on all followers of the prince -who may be caught, I fear that private malice, aided by personal fear -of you, may lead to your betrayal. Be warned, I beseech you. Farewell -and forgive. - -"Catherine Fordingbridge." - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES. - - -The letter written by Lady Fordingbridge, read in conjunction with -some other remarks made by other persons who have been introduced to -the reader's notice, may serve to inform him of the state of affairs -that led to the position in which things were at the period when this -narrative commences, namely, the month of May, 1746. A few other words -of additional explanation alone are necessary. - -At the time when Cardinal Tencin (who looked forward to becoming the -successor of Fleury as Prime Minister of France, and who owed his -elevation to the purple as well as to the Primacy of France to the -influence of the old Pretender) persuaded Louis XV. to support the -claims of the Stuarts as his great-grandfather and predecessor had -done, Paris was, as is well known to all readers of history, full of -English, Scotch, and Irish Jacobites. These refugees from their own -countries were to be found in all capacities in that city, some -serving as the agents of the exiled Chevalier de St. George, who was -now resident at Rome, and others as correspondents between the -followers of the Stuarts in London, Rome, and Paris; also, some -resided there either from the fact that their presence would not be -tolerated in England or its dependencies, and some because, in their -staunch loyalty to the fallen House, they were not disposed to dwell -in a country which they considered was ruled over by usurpers. To this -class belonged the late Viscount Fordingbridge, a staunch Cheshire -nobleman, who had been out in the '15, had afterwards escaped from the -Isle of Skye, and had also had the good fortune to escape forfeiture -of his estates, owing to the fact that, though he had been out -himself, he had neither furnished men, arms, nor money, so far as was -known. - -But also in Paris were still others who, loyal Jacobites as they were, -and followers of a ruined party, were yet obliged to earn their bread -in the best way they were able. Thus Doyle Fane, Kitty's father, an -Irish gentleman of good family who had himself seen service under -France and Austria, eked out a slender allowance--paid irregularly by -James Stuart--by lessons in swordsmanship, of which art he was an -expert master. Some, again, obtained commissions in French regiments, -many, indeed, being glad to serve as simple privates; while several -who were more fortunate--and among whom were Douglas Sholto and Bertie -Elphinston--obtained positions in the Garde du Roi or the -Mousquetaires, or other corps, and so waited in the hopes of a descent -on England in which they would be allowed to take part by resigning -temporarily their French commissions. - -Of priests affecting Stuart principles there were also several, some, -as was the case with Archibald Sholto, being temporarily attached to -St. Omer, at which there was a large English seminary for the -education of young Catholics, but all of whom were frequently in -London and Paris, plotting always restlessly for the overthrow of the -present reigning House in England, and for the restoration of the -discarded one. - -Fane's residence at this period, which was shortly before the -expedition of Charles Edward to recover, if possible, the throne of -England for his father, was a popular resort of many of the exiled -English, Scotch, and Irish, principally because, in the better classes -of men who were still young, the practice of the sword was unceasing, -and also, perhaps, because in the next house to his was a well-known -tavern, "Le Ph[oe]bus Anglais," kept by a Jacobite, and a great place -of assembly for all the fraternity. But for the younger men there was -an even greater attraction than either the advantages of continued -practice in swordsmanship or a cheap but good tavern--the attraction -of Kitty Fane's beauty. - -Kitty kept her father's house for him, kept also his accounts, made -his fees go as long a way as possible, and his bottle last out as well -as could be the case when submitted so often to the constant demands -on it, and was admired and respected by all who came to the little -house in the Rue Trouse Vache. Besides her beauty, she was known to be -a girl who respected herself, and was consequently respected; and as -Doyle Fane was also known to be a gentleman by birth, and Kitty's -mother to have been a daughter of one of the oldest families in -Ireland, none ever dreamed of treating her in a manner other than -became a lady. - -Of declared lovers she had two, one whom she disliked for reasons she -knew not why--at first; the other whom she adored. Simeon Larpent, -heir to the then dying Lord Fordingbridge, was one; Bertie Elphinston, -of the Regiment of Picardy, the other. With Larpent, however, the -reasons why she disliked him soon made themselves apparent. He was -crafty by nature, with a craft that had been much fostered at St. Omer -and Lisbon, where he was educated, and he was, she thought, lacking in -bravery. When other men were planning and devising as to how they -could find a place in that army which--under Count Saxe, to be -convoyed to England by De Roquefeuille--was then forming, he made no -attempt to become one of its number, giving as his reasons his -father's ill-health and his opinion that he could better serve the -Cause by remaining in France. Yet Bertie Elphinston had at the same -time a delicate mother residing at Passy, and Douglas Sholto was in -poor health at the moment; and still they were both going. - -Moreover, Simeon Larpent's admiration was distasteful to her. He had -then but recently come back to Paris from Lisbon, from which he -brought no particular good character, while he appeared by his -conversation and mode of life to have contracted many extremely bad -habits. In the Paris of those days the practice and admiration of -morality stood at a terribly low point, yet Simeon Larpent seemed more -depraved than most young men were in that city even. In a morose and -sullen fashion he revelled in all the iniquities that prevailed during -the middle of Louis XV's reign, and his name became noted in English -circles as that of a man unscrupulous and abandoned, as well as shifty -and cunning. Moreover, even his Jacobitism was looked upon with -doubtful eyes, and not a few were heard to say that the hour which -witnessed his father's death would also see him an avowed Hanoverian. -That such would have been the case was certain, had not, however, the -old lord's death taken place at the very moment when Charles Edward -made the last Stuart bid for restoration in England. But at such a -time it was impossible that the new peer could approach the English -king. Had he done so it would have been more than his life was worth. -At the best, he would have been forced into a duel with some -infuriated Jacobite; at the worst, his body would have been found in -the Seine, stabbed to the heart. - -Meanwhile those events which Lady Fordingbridge had spoken of in her -letter to Bertie Elphinston had taken place; nothing was heard by her -either of her lover or the Sholtos, and she became the wife of -Fordingbridge. For a month he revelled in the possession of the -beautiful woman he had coveted since first he set eyes on her; then -she found out the truth and his lordship had no longer a wife except -in name. She had one interview with him--alone--and after that had -taken place she never willingly spoke to him again. Her pride forbade -her to separate from him, but with the exception that the same roof -sheltered and the same walls enclosed them, they might as well have -dwelt in different streets. Against all his protestations, his vows, -his declarations that love, and love alone, had forced him to play the -part he had, she turned a deaf ear; she would not even open her lips -if possible, to show that she had heard his words. She had come to -hate and despise him--as she told him in that one interview--and her -every action afterwards testified that she had spoken the truth. - -And now, when the married life of Lord and Lady Fordingbridge had -arrived at this pass, the time was also come when scores of Jacobites, -militant, priestly, or passive as they might be, poured into England. -For Charles Edward had landed at Moidart, Tullibardine had displayed -at Glenfinnen the white, blue, and red silk standard of the prince, -the march southward had begun. Following on this news--all of which -reached Paris with extraordinary rapidity--came the intelligence of -the Battle of Preston, the capture of Edinburgh, Charles's -installation at Holyrood, the rout of Cope's army, the march into -England, and the determination of George II. to take the field in -person against the invader. And among those who received their orders -to at once proceed to England was Lord Fordingbridge, such orders -coming from out the mouth of the restless Father Sholto. - -"But," exclaimed his lordship, "I have no desire to proceed to -England. My unhappy married life--for such it has become--will be no -better there than here. And in France, at least, matrimonial disputes -are not regarded." - -"Your desire," said the priest, "is of no concern. I tell you what is -required of you--there is nothing left for you but to conform. We wish -a goodly number of adherents to the Stuart cause--indeed, all whom it -is possible to obtain--to be in London when the prince and his army -arrive, as it is now an almost foregone conclusion they will do. You -must, therefore, be there. Only, since you are of a calculating--not -to say timorous--nature, and as no Jacobite nobleman will be permitted -to enter England until the prince is in London, you will travel with -papers describing you as a nobleman who has given in his adherence to -the House of Hanover. I shall go with you--it is necessary that I keep -you under my eyes as much as possible; also it is fitting that I -should be in London. In either case my services will be required, -whether we are successful or not." - -In this way, therefore, his lordship returned to England in company -with his wife and his wife's father as well as the Jesuit. Only, he -made several reservations in his own mind as to how he would manage -his own political affairs, as to how, indeed, he would trim his sails. - -"For," said he to himself, "whether I become Hanoverian or remain -Jacobite will depend vastly on which side wins. Once in England I -shake off this accursed hold which Sholto and all the other priests of -St. Omer have on me; nay, if Hanover comes up uppermost, Sholto -himself shall be laid by the heels. There will be a pretty sweep made -of the Jesuits if Charles gets beaten. If he drives out George, why, -then--ah! well, time enough to ponder." - -The events of three months soon showed to which side victory was -ultimately to belong. Cumberland destroyed the Scotch army, Charles -Edward was in hiding in the land he had entered attended by such -bright hopes and prospects; all who had fought on his side were either -dead, in prison, or fled. And Simeon Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge, -was--quite with the consent for the time being of Archibald Sholto--an -avowed Hanoverian and received into favour by the Hanoverian king, -though with a strong watch kept on all his actions by that king's -Ministers. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. - - -On the day after Bertie Elphinston received the letter from his lost -love, Lady Fordingbridge, his lordship himself set out from London to -journey into Cheshire, there to visit his estate in that county. He -had previously intimated to his wife--who had told Father Sholto of -the fact--that he intended being absent from London for some weeks; -indeed, had asked her whether it was her desire to accompany him. To -this question or invitation her ladyship had, however, returned the -usual monosyllabic answer which she generally accorded him, and had -briefly replied "No." Then being pressed by him to give some reason -for her refusal to so accompany him, she had turned round with that -bright blaze in her blue eyes which he had learnt to dread, and had -exclaimed: - -"Why pester me--especially when we are alone--with these useless -questions and formalities? We have arranged, decided the mode in which -our existences are to be passed, if passed together--it is enough. We -remain together ostensibly on the condition that I share this house -with you--I will have no other part in your false life. And if you -cannot conform to this arrangement, then even this appearance of union -can--had best be--severed." - -The viscount bit his lips after her cold contemptuous tones, yet, with -that strange power which he possessed, he overmastered the burning -rage that rose up in his heart against her. Only he asked himself now, -as often before he had asked himself, would he always be able to -exercise such control--able to refrain from bursting forth against -her, and by so doing put an end to the artificial existence they were -living? - -But now the morning had come for him to depart for the country; -outside in the square he could hear the horses shaking their harness -while his carriage waited for him; it was time for him to go. -Therefore he went to his wife's morning-room and found her ladyship -taking her chocolate. - -"I come, madam," he said, with that usual assumption of courtliness -which he always treated her to since they had become estranged, "to -bid you farewell for some few weeks. I will notify you by the post of -my proposed return. Meanwhile your ladyship need not be dull. You have -the entry now to the Court circles, you have also your respected -father with you in this house. And there are many friends of your -younger days in London"--he shot an evil, oblique glance at her out of -the corner of his eye as he said this, which was not lost on her--"to -wit, Mr. Archibald and--and--others. Doubtless ere I return you may -have renewed some of your earlier acquaintanceships. They should be -agreeable." - -For answer she gave him never a word, but, stirring her cup of -chocolate leisurely, looked him straight in the face; then she let her -eyes fall on the journal she had been perusing and again commenced to -do so as though he were not in the room. - -"Curse her," muttered her husband to himself as her indifference stung -him to the quick, "curse her, ere long the bolt shall be sped." After -which he exclaimed: - -"My lady, as is ever the case, I perceive my presence is unwelcome. -Once more I bid you adieu," and took himself out of the room and also -out of the house. And so he set forth upon his journey. - -For a young man on the road to his old family seat, Lord Fordingbridge -was that morning strangely preoccupied and indifferent to the events -around him, and sat in his carriage huddled up in one corner of it -more like an elderly sick man than aught else. The cheerful bustle of -the village of Islington, the pretty country villas at Highgate, the -larks singing over Finchley Common and Hadley Green, had no power to -rouse him from his stupor--if stupor it was--nor either had the bright -sun and the warm balmy spring air that came in at the open windows. A -strange way for an English nobleman to set out upon his journey to the -place where his forefathers had dwelt for ages! A strange way, indeed, -considering that he might be regarded as an extremely fortunate man. -The head of a family with strong Stuart tendencies, and suspected of -himself participating in those tendencies, he had yet been at once -received into favour by the King on returning to London. This alone -should have made his heart light within him, for he had but now to -conform to that King's demands to pass the rest of his existence in -peace and full enjoyment of his comfortable means--to feel that his -father's and his family's Jacobitism was forgotten, that all was well -with him. George was now welcoming to his fold every exiled Jacobite -who had not openly fought or plotted and schemed against him in the -recent invasion, and many peers and gentlemen who had long lived -abroad in exile were hastening to tender their adherence to the German -king, feeling perfectly sure that, after the events of the past three -months, the day of the Stuarts was past and gone for ever. - -Why, therefore, could not Simeon Larpent look forward as hopefully to -the future as all his brother exiles who had returned were doing? Why! -Was it because of the enmity of his wife to him, an enmity which he -knew could never slacken; or was it because of his fear of that other -man whom he had so deeply wronged; or because of what his scheming -mind was now fashioning? This we shall see. - -The roads were heavy with the recent spring showers so that the four -horses of his coach could drag it but tediously along them, and it was -nightfall ere South Mimms was reached, and night itself ere they -arrived at St. Albans, and Lord Fordingbridge descended at the Angel. -To the bowing landlord he gave his name, and stated that he wished a -bedroom and a parlour for himself, and a room for his men; and then, -as he was about to follow his obsequious host up the broad staircase, -he said, pulling out his watch: - -"It is now after seven. At nine I expect to be visited by a gentleman -whom I have appointed to meet me here. His name is Captain Morris. You -will please entertain him at my cost to-night, and do so at your best. -On his arrival, if he hath not supped, ask him to do so; if he hath, -show him in at once to me. Now I will prepare for my own meal." - -Again Boniface bowed low--lower even than before, after he had become -acquainted with his visitor's rank and position--and escorted him to a -large, comfortable bedroom on the first floor, in which a cheerful -fire burnt in the grate. And throwing open two heavy folding-doors, he -showed next a bright sitting-room, also with a fire, and well lit. - -"This will do very well," said his lordship. "Now send my servant to -me with my valise. And let him wait on me at table." - -All through the repast he partook of the viscount meditated gloomily -and gravely, eating but little of the substantial meal provided by the -landlord, drinking sparingly, and addressing no remark to his servant. -Then when he had finished, he had his chair drawn up before the fire, -a bottle of wine and another of brandy placed on the table, and, -bidding the servant withdraw and bring Captain Morris to him when he -should arrive, he again fell to meditating and musing, speaking -sometimes aloud to himself. - -"It is the only way," he muttered, in disconnected sentences, -"the only way. And it must be done at one swoop; otherwise it is -useless. So long as one of them is free I am fettered. The only way! -And--then--when that is accomplished--to deal with you, my lady. Let -me see." He began counting on his fingers and tapping the tips as -still he pondered, touching first his forefinger, then the second and -third, and once or twice nodding his head as though well satisfied -with himself. - -"As for Fane," he muttered next, "he scarce counts. Yet he, too, must -be taken care of. But of that later. Doubtless when I begin with my -lady--Vengeance confound her!--he will become revengeful, but before -he can do so--well, he will be harmless. So, so. It should work." - -The clock struck nine as he spoke, and he compared it with his great -tortoiseshell watch, and then sat listening. The inn was very quiet, -he doubted if any other travellers were staying in it, especially as -the coach from London passed through early in the day, but outside in -the street there were signs of life. The rustics bade each other -good-night as they passed; a woman's laugh broke the air now and -again; sometimes a dog barked. And at last, above these sounds, he -heard a horse's hoofs clattering along the street as though ridden -fast. - -"That," said his lordship, "may be he. 'Tis very possible. For one of -his Majesty's servants, he is none too punctual." - -As he spoke the horse drew up with still more clatter at the porch -below his window, and he heard a clear, firm voice ask if Lord -Fordingbridge had that day arrived from London. And two or three -moments later his servant knocked at the door, and, entering, said -that Captain Morris was come. - -"Has he supped?" - -"He says he requires nothing, my lord, but desires to see you at once. -He rides to Hertford to-night, he bid the landlord say, and has but -little time at his disposal." - -"So be it. Show him in," and a moment later Captain Morris entered the -room. - -A man of something more than middle age, this gentleman's features, -aquiline and clear cut, presented the appearance of belonging to one -in whom great ability as well as shrewdness and common sense were -combined. Tall and extremely thin, his undress riding-habit of dark -blue embroidered with gold lace set off his figure to extreme -advantage, while the light sword he carried by his side, his -gold-trimmed three-cornered hat with its black cockade, and his long -riding boots all served to give him the appearance of an extremely -gentlemanly and elegant man. - -"Welcome, sir," said Lord Fordingbridge, advancing to meet him with -extended hand, while at the same time he noticed--and took account -of--the clear grey eyes, the thin lips, and aquiline nose of his -visitor. "Welcome, sir. I am glad you have been able to reach here -to-night. To-morrow I must resume my journey. Be seated, I beg." - -"The orders which I received from London," replied Captain Morris, in -a clear, refined voice that corresponded perfectly with his -appearance, "made it imperative that I should call on you to-night. As -your lordship may be aware, in this locality I have certain duties to -perform which can be entrusted to no one else." - -"I am aware of it," Fordingbridge replied. Then he said, "Before we -commence our conversation, let me offer you a glass of wine or brandy. -The night is raw, and you have doubtless ridden long." - -Captain Morris bowed, said he would drink a glass of wine, and, when -he had poured it out of the decanter, let it stand by his side -untouched for the moment. After which he remarked: - -"I understand, my lord, that I am to receive from your lips to-night -some information of considerable importance to his Majesty, touching -those who have been engaged in plotting against his security. May I -ask you to proceed at once with what you have to tell me? I have still -some distance to ride to-night, and also other work to do." - -"Yes," answered Fordingbridge, "you have been exactly informed. -Yet--how to tell--how to begin, I scarcely know. My object is to put -in the King's hands--without, of course, letting it be known that the -information comes from me--some facts relating to several notorious -Jacobites now sheltering in London. Men who are," he continued, -speaking rapidly, "inimical to his Majesty's peace and security, -hostile to his rule, and, if I mistake not, bent at the present moment -in endeavouring in some way to effect a rescue of the Scotch lords now -in confinement at the Tower." - -A slight smile rose upon his visitor's face as he uttered these last -words; then Captain Morris said quietly: - -"That is hardly likely to come to pass, I should imagine. The Tower -does not disgorge its victims freely, certainly not by force. As for -the Scotch lords, I am afraid they will only quit the place for their -trials and afterwards for Tower Hill." - -"Yet," remarked Lord Fordingbridge, "the attempt may be made. Of the -men I speak of, two are desperate, and both fought at Culloden and the -battles that took place during the Pretender's march into England. -They will stop at nothing if," with a quick glance at the other, "they -are not themselves first stopped." - -"Give me their names, if you please," said Morris, with military -precision, as he produced from his pocket a notebook, "and where they -are to be found." - -"Their names are Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto--the former a -kinsman of the Lord Balmarino. Both have lived in exile in France, -serving in the French King's army, one in the _Garde du Roi_ at first, -and then in the Regiment of Picardy. The other, Sholto, has served in -the Mousquetaires." - -"Their names," said Captain Morris, "are not in the list," and he -turned over the leaves of his notebook carefully as he spoke. "But for -you, my lord, these men might have escaped justice. 'Tis strange -nothing was known of them." - -"They crossed from France with Charles Edward. Many names of those who -accompanied him are probably not known. You may rely on my -information. I myself returned but from France some weeks ago. I know -them well." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Captain Morris. "Indeed! Your lordship doubtless -came to support his Majesty shortly after so many of his enemies -crossed over." - -"Precisely. But I will be frank. I should tell you I am myself a -converted--perverted, some would say--Jacobite. My father, the late -lord, died one, I do not espouse his political faith." - -Captain Morris bowed gravely; then he said: - -"And you know, therefore, these gentlemen--these Scotch rebels." - -"I know them very well. Shall I furnish you with a description of -their persons?" - -"If you please;" and as the captain replied to the question, -he--perhaps unwittingly--pushed the untasted glass of wine farther -away from him into the middle of the large table, where it remained -undrunk. - -After the appearance of Elphinston and Sholto had been fully given and -noted in the captain's book, he asked: - -"And where are these men to be found, Lord Fordingbridge?" - -"They shelter themselves in the village of Wandsworth, near London, in -an old house on the Waterside, as the strand there is called. It is -the first reached from the village." - -Again this was written down, after which Captain Morris rose to take -his departure, but my lord's tale was not yet told. Pointing to the -chair the other had risen from, he said: - -"I beg you to be seated a moment longer. There is still another--the -worst rebel of all--of whom I wish to apprise you. A priest." - -"A priest! You speak truly; they are, indeed, his Majesty's worst -enemies. A Jesuit, of course?" - -"Of course. With him it will be necessary to use the most astute means -in the Government's power to first entrap him, and then to deal with -him afterwards. He should, indeed, be confined in total solitude, -forbidden, above all things else, to hold any communication with other -rebels." - -"You may depend, Lord Fordingbridge, on all being done that is -necessary, short of execution." - -"Short of execution!" interrupted the other. "Short of execution! Why -do not the scheming Jesuits--the mainspring of all, the cause of the -very rebellion but now crushed out--merit execution as well as those -who routed Cope's forces and hewed down Cumberland's men? _Grand -Dieu!_ I should have thought they would have been the first to taste -the halter." - -"Possibly," replied the captain in passionless tones, and with an -almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, "but at present no Jesuit -priests have been executed. I doubt if any will be. The Government -have other punishments for them--exile to the American colonies, and -so forth. Now, my lord, this priest's name and abode." - -"He is brother to Douglas Sholto, an elder brother by another mother, -yet they have ever gone hand in hand together. Named Archibald, of -from thirty-eight to forty years of age. Crafty, dissimulating, -and----" - -"That is of course," said Captain Morris. "Now, tell me, if you -please, where this man is to be found. Is he also in hiding at -Wandsworth?" - -"Nay," replied the other--and for the first time the informer seemed -to hesitate in his answer. Yet for a moment only, since again he -proceeded with his story. "He is disguised, of course; passes as a -Scotch merchant having business between London and Paris, and is known -as Mr. Archibald." He paused again, and Captain Morris's clear eyes -rested on him as, interrogatively, he said: - -"Yes? And his abode?" - -"Is my own house. In Kensington-square." - -This time the officer started perceptibly, and fixed an even more -penetrating glance upon the other than before. Indeed, so apparent -were both the start and look of surprise on his face that the traitor -before him deemed it necessary to offer some excuse for his strange -revelation. - -"Yes," he said, "in my own house. It has been necessary for me to let -him hide there awhile the better to--to entrap--to deliver him to -justice." - -"Your lordship is indeed an ardent partisan," coldly replied Captain -Morris; "the King is much to be congratulated on so good a convert." - -"The King will, I trust, reward my devotion. The Stuarts have never -shown any gratitude for all that has been done for them--by my family -as much as any. Now, Captain Morris," he went on, "I have told you all -that I have to tell. I have simply to ask that in no way shall it be -divulged--as, indeed, I have the promise of his Majesty's Ministers -that nothing shall be divulged--as to the source whence this -information is derived. It is absolutely necessary that I appear not -at all in the matter." - -"That is understood. The Secretary of State for Scotch affairs, from -whom I receive my instructions, knows your lordship's desire, without -a doubt." - -"Precisely. It is with him I have been in communication. Yet, still, I -would make one other request. It is that Father Sholto may not be -arrested in my house. That would be painful to--to--Lady -Fordingbridge, a young and delicate woman. He can easily be taken -outside, since he quits the house fearlessly each day." - -"That too," replied Morris, "I will make a note of for the Secretary's -consideration. I wish you now, my lord, good evening," saying which he -bowed and went toward the door. - -"If I could possibly prevail on you to refresh yourself," said -Fordingbridge, as he followed him to it, "I should be happy," and he -held out his hand as he spoke. - -But the captain, who seemed busy with his sash, or sword belt, did not -perhaps see the extended hand, and muttering that he required no -refreshment, withdrew from the room. - -Nevertheless, when he reached the bar in the passage below he asked -the smiling landlady if she could give him a glass of cordial to keep -out the rawness of the night air, and to fortify him for his ride. -Also he asked, in so polite a manner as to gratify the good woman's -heart, if he might scrawl a line at her table whereat she sat sewing -and surrounded by her bottles and glasses. Buxom landladies rarely -refuse politenesses to persons of Captain Morris's position, -especially when so captivatingly arrayed as he was in his undress -bravery, and as he wrote his message and sealed it she thought how -gallant a gentleman he was. - -Then he looked up and enquired if there was any ostler or idle postboy -about the place who could ride for him with a letter to-morrow morning -to Dunstable, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, paid for his -cordial, the hire of the next morning messenger and his horse's feed, -and so bade her a cheerful good-night. - -In the yard, while his animal was being brought out, he looked with -some little interest at his lordship's travelling carriage, inspected -the crest upon its panels and the motto, and, tossing the fellow who -brought the nag a shilling, and seeing carefully to his holsters, rode -away into the night. - -Upstairs, my lord, standing before the fire, noticed the unemptied -glass of wine, and, remembering that the captain had not chosen to see -his outstretched hand, cursed him for an ill-conditioned Hanoverian -cur. Downstairs, the hostess, being a daughter of Eve, turned over the -captain's letter addressed to "Josias Brandon, Esq., Justice of the -Peace," and would have given her ears, or at least a set of earrings, -to know what its contents were. Had she been able to see them they -probably would have given her food for gossip for a twelvemonth, brief -as they were. They ran: - -"The Viscount Fordingbridge passes through Dunstable to-morrow in his -coach on his road to Cheshire. From the time he does so until he -returns through your town to London, he is to be followed and watched -and never lost sight of. Let me be kept acquainted with all his -movements--by special courier, if needful.--Noel Morris, Captain." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. - - -Between Lady Fordingbridge and her father a better state of things -existed than that which prevailed between her and her husband. Indeed, -Kitty, who could not forgive the treachery of the man who was now her -husband, could not, at the same time, bring herself to regard her -father's share in that treachery in as equally black a light. She knew -that it was the actual truth that he had been much in debt to Simeon -Larpent (as he was then), and she had persuaded herself also to -believe that which he constantly assured her was the truth--and, -perhaps, might have been--that Larpent would have proceeded against -him for his debt, in spite of the story Fane had been instructed to -tell to the effect that the other was very willing to continue their -creditor. Moreover, old and feeble as her father was now--broken down -and unable any longer to earn bread to put in their mouths, she did -not forget that, until the events of the last few unhappy months, he -had been an excellent parent to her. For, hardly and roughly, by long -days of weary work, the bread had been earned somehow, the roof kept -over their heads, the clothes found for their backs. Hour after hour, -as she remembered, the worn-out old Irish gentleman--once the -brilliant young military adventurer had stood in the room set apart -for the fencing school, giving his lessons to men young enough to be -his sons; and also she recalled how every night, it seemed to her, he -was more fatigued than before, his back a little more bowed, his -weariness greater. And as--even after the marriage had taken place -into which she had been hoodwinked--she thought of all this, and of -how he had grown older and more feeble in his fight to keep the wolf -from the door, she almost brought herself to forgive him entirely for -the great wrong he had done her. - -She sat thinking over all this on the morning after her lord's -departure for the country, while opposite to her, toasting his feet in -front of the fire, her father sat. The old man was well dressed now; -he was comfortable and without care--an astute Irish attorney settled -in Paris had tied the viscount up as tightly as possible in the matter -of jointure, settlements and dowry for Kitty, not without remonstrance -from Fordingbridge, which was, however, unavailing; and out of her own -money she had provided for her father. And as her eyes rested on him -she felt that, badly as he had behaved to her, she was still glad to -know that his laborious days were past. At this time Kitty was very -near to forgiving him altogether; her strong, loving heart remembering -so much of all he had done for her in the past, and forgetting almost -all of his wrongdoing. - -"What do your letters say to ye, Kitty, this morning?" asked Doyle -Fane, who, after more than forty years' absence from his native land, -still retained some of its rich raciness of tone and accent. "Ye've a -big post there before ye, me child." - -"Very little of any importance," she replied. "The night coach through -St. Albans brings me a letter from his lordship trusting I shall be -happy during his enforced absence. Faugh! Also there is one by the -French packet from Kathleen Muskerry. Her uncle, the priest at Marly, -is removed to St. Roch. Lady Belrose, whose acquaintance I made a -month ago at Leicester House, writes desiring me to accompany her to -the masquerade at Vauxhall." - -"Good, me child, good. And what for not? 'Twill do ye good to see some -life, to----" - -"To see some life!" she repeated, "see some life! In the midst of -death all around us!" - -"Death!" the old man repeated. "Death! Faith, I did not know it. What -death is there around us?" - -"Father!" she exclaimed, looking at him, "is there not death all -around--threatening those whom we love--whom we loved once? Do you not -know that London is at the present moment full of followers of the -unhappy prince, who, if they are caught, must be doomed? Do you not -know that the Tower, Newgate, the New Gaol over the water in -Southwark, is crowded with such men, all of whom have soon to stand -their trial for high treason--men of whom we have known many, some of -whom were your pupils? Father, this is no time for masquerades." - -For a moment the old man gazed at her with solemn eyes, as though -endeavouring to penetrate her mind, to discover if behind her words -there lay any hidden meaning; then he asked: - -"Are there any--any whom--we know particularly well among these -threatened men? You may tell me, Kitty. You may trust me--now." - -"Is not Father Sholto in jeopardy?" she asked, while her eyes also -rested on him much as his had dwelt on her. Perhaps she, too, was -wondering if he guessed to whom, more than all others, her remarks -applied. "If he were discovered would he not share the gaol, if not -the scaffold? He told us yesterday that there was a newly-made law -against any Jesuit priests from France who should be found in -England."[Note B] - -"Are there any--any others?" he almost whispered. But still her clear -blue eyes regarded him, and she spoke no word. - -"Well, well," he said a moment after. "Perhaps it may be, even after -so many years, that I do not deserve your confidence. Yet, Kitty, I -was nigh as much deceived in some things as you were. Child," he said, -leaning across the table as he spoke, "I swear to you I thought that -man who came to us was, in truth, the priest, the _curé_ of Moret. How -could I know he was a paid creature of Larpent's, a vile cheat, -instead of the man who, as I supposed, had tied the hands of Bertie -El----?" - -"Stop," said his daughter, "stop! Don't mention that again. Let it be -done with, forgotten; dead and buried. It is past! Over! I--I--am Lord -Fordingbridge's wife." - -"Yet I must ask. I must know. Nay, I do know. Fordingbridge hinted as -much to me ere he set out. Kitty," and now his voice sank to a whisper -that none but she could have heard, even though in the room, "is he in -London?" - -"Yes," she whispered also, softly as a woman's whisper ever is. "Yes. -He is here. Oh, father! for the love of God, betray us--him--no more. -For if you do, it will not end this time with broken hearts, but with -death." - -"Betray you," he said, "betray you again! Why will you not believe me -once more? See, Kitty, see here," and as he spoke he rose from his -chair and stood before her. "I swear to you that I am true in -spite--in spite of what I once did, partly in ignorance--unwittingly. -I myself loved Elphinston and always despised Larpent. And I -did--honestly, I did--believe that he had married Mademoiselle -Baufremont." - -"Well," she said, "well, he had not. Enough of that. And, since -you ask me to trust you once again as I trusted you before, I answer -you--remember his life, as well as Douglas Sholto's, are in your -hands--he is in London. Both are here." - -"'Tis madness," he murmured, "madness. For, Kitty, as sure as he is -here he will be betrayed. Fordingbridge will denounce him." - -"Alas!" she replied, almost wringing her hands, "alas! I fear as much -myself. Yet Father Sholto says not--that it is impossible. For, he -declares, should harm come to either of them through him, he will -cause him also to be denounced. He knows some secret as to -Fordingbridge's doings that, he says, would bring him to the block for -a surety, which secret, if he turns traitor, he will use most -remorselessly. And, do what he may, at least he is harmless now. He -will be in Cheshire for a month. By that time I pray that both the -others may be beyond the seas." - -"Have you seen him?" he asked, still in a low voice. - -He knew that in London at this time walls almost had ears, -and that every footman or waiting-maid might be a spy of the -Government--especially in a house but recently re-opened after many -years of disuse, and, consequently, possessing a staff of servants new -to their employers and taking neither interest nor sympathy in their -affairs. Also he knew that, in the garb of servants, many a Government -agent was carefully watching every action of his or her temporary -employers. London especially had but recently recovered from too great -a fright to cease as yet to fear for its safety, and saw a bugbear in -many harmless strangers now in its midst; the house of a nobleman -returned recently from France--the birthplace of the late -invasion--and known to be a Catholic, would, therefore, be a -particularly likely object to be subjected to supervision, quiet yet -effectual. - -"No," she replied; "no, I have not seen him. God forbid I should. And -if I did, the only words I could, I think, find heart to utter would -be to beseech him to fly at once. Oh! father, father, I dread some -awful calamity, though I know not in what form or shape it may come." - -As she spoke, a tap was heard at the door, and, a second afterwards, -Father Sholto entered the room, while so much had her ladyship's fears -and tremors overcome her and her father that both exclaimed at once, -in the same words, "Is all well?" - -"In so far as I know," he replied, after having exchanged morning -greetings with them. "As well as all will ever be. Why do you ask? -Have you reason to dread aught?" - -"No, no," Kitty replied. "Still, I know not why, I am strangely -uneasy, strangely nervous to-day. Some feeling of impending ills seems -to hang over me." - -"Yet," said Sholto, "if omens are to be supposed to have any power, no -such feeling should trouble you to-day. Kitty, I bear good news----" - -"Good news!" she exclaimed. "From----" - -"From an acquaintance of mine--one who is in the office of the Scotch -Secretary of State. Nay," he went on, seeing the look of -disappointment on her face, and knowing she had expected matter of a -different kind, "'tis worth hearing. Among the names of those now in -London for whom diligent search is being made--the names of those who, -if found, are doomed--three do not appear--three in whom we are -concerned." - -"Thank God!" exclaimed Lady Fordingbridge and her father together. -"They are----" - -"Our two friends across the river and--and--myself." - -"Therefore you may escape at once?" she asked. "All of you? There is -nothing to keep you here in England--the Cause is broken, it can never -be regained now--you can all depart in peace?" - -"Yes," he said, "we can." But letting his eye fall on Fane, he took -her a little apart and said: - -"Kitty, we have the chance of getting across the water; at least, we -are safe at present. I, you know, can go at any moment; there is -nothing to detain me. The glorious work, the accomplishment of which I -crossed over to see, will never be done now--I may as well go. -But--shall the others go too? It rests with you to say." - -"With me," she said, looking up at him; "with me? Why, how should I -prevent them going? Oh Archibald, if I could see them I would beg them -on my knees to go while there is yet time." - -"One will not leave England without the other; Douglas would never go -without Bertie. And, Kitty, Elphinston will not go yet." - -"Not yet! Why not? What does he tarry for? Is it to take vengeance on -my husband, to--to----" - -"To see you." - -"To see me," she said, clasping her hands convulsively together, while -from her soft blue eyes there shone so bright a light that Father -Sholto knew how deeply the love still dwelt in her heart for the poor -wanderer and outcast; "to see me. Oh! say, does he forgive--has he -sent me one word of pardon, of pity?" - -"Ay, child, he forgives, if he has aught to forgive. Those are his -words. Yet, he bids me say, he must see you, speak with you; -then--then he will go away for ever. Now," Sholto went on, "'tis for -you to decide. If you see him, there is naught to prevent his going; -only--I must tell you, it is my duty as a priest, though you need but -little caution from me--remember this man loves you now as much as he -ever loved you, and--you are another man's wife." - -Fane had left the room when the others drew apart--perhaps he -guessed that Sholto had some message for his daughter--so that now -they could speak at ease. For a moment Lady Fordingbridge seemed lost -in thought--as though struggling between conflicting desires, the one -to see again the man she loved, the other to know that he was safe, a -third to remember that, however hateful to her Lord Fordingbridge was, -she was still his wife. Then suddenly she said: - -"You are right. 'Tis best we should not meet. Yet--yet--you say he -will not quit England without our doing so." - -"I fear not. And time is precious. Remember, though the names are not -in the list, they may be at any moment. Or he, or both of them, may be -denounced. Many of Cumberland's and Cope's regiments are back in -London; they may be recognised by some against whom they fought, and, -if that were the case, their chance of existence would be small. -Kitty, if you are strong enough, as you should be, 'tis almost best -that you should see him. Then he can go in peace." - -"I am strong enough," she replied. "Have no fear of me; I have none of -myself. Yet, how can it be? He cannot come here--I cannot go to him. -But oh! to hear from his own lips that he forgave me, that he would -think of me sometimes without bitterness." - -"What answer shall I give him, then?" - -"Does he await one?" - -"Eagerly. If you bade him meet you in George's Throne-room he would -contrive to be there." - -"When do you see him again?" she asked. - -"To-night, after dark." - -"So be it. To-night you shall bear him a message from me. Now, leave -me a little while. At dinner we will meet again. Then, then, I will -ask you to carry a note to him." - -When she was alone she went to the standish and, taking pens and -paper, wrote two notes. The first was easily despatched; it simply -told Lady Belrose she would accompany her and her party to Vauxhall on -the following night. The next took longer, caused her much -deliberation. - -She pined to see the man whom in her own heart she accused herself of -having deceived; yet she dreaded the hour when she should stand face -to face with him. Alas! how could she look into his eyes--eyes that -she feared would look back but sternly upon her--and plead for -forgiveness, remembering that, had she but trusted and believed in -him, they who now met as strangers would by this time have been man -and wife a twelvemonth. Yet, it was not only to gratify her own desire -to once more touch his hand and hear his voice, even though that voice -should reproach her, that she desired to see him. It was also to save -him, since he would leave the country, he had said, after they had -once met. - -So, at last, she decided it should be so. She would see him once, -would take his pardon from his own lips--Sholto had said that he -forgave her--and then she would bid him go and consult nothing but his -own safety and that of his true and tried friend. - -She took the pen in her hand again and drew the paper towards her, -but, at first, she knew not what to say. In the previous letter she -had sent him the words and ideas had come easily enough, for then she -was writing a straightforward narrative with, in it, a sad plea for -forgiveness. But now it was different. She was making an assignation -with a man she had once loved--once!--she was deceiving her husband. - -"Bah!" she said, as this thought rose to her mind. "If 'tis deception -let it be so. Out of his deceit to me is borne mine to him." - -Whereon once more she pondered a moment on what she should say, and -then wrote: - -"Lady Fordingbridge will be at the masquerade at Vauxhall to-morrow -night. May she hope she will hear none but gentle words there?" - -That was all. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -"THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." - - -The rejoicings into which London broke out when, at last, the Scottish -rebellion was decisively crushed caused Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens -to be, perhaps, more frequented in the warm spring and summer of 1746 -than they had ever been previously. Indeed, after the fright which had -fallen upon the capital when the news came that the Highland troops -were at Derby and within four days' march of London, it was not very -astonishing that the inhabitants should, on the removal of that -terror, give themselves up to wholesale amusement. Six months before, -imminent ruin stared them in the face; the Bank of England, by that -time regarded as being almost as stable an institution as it is now -considered, had only escaped closing its doors by the oft-quoted -artifice of paying the demands made on it in sixpences. Regiments -engaged in foreign campaigns--Ligonier's Horse and Hawley's and Rich's -Dragoons--had been hurried home from Williamstadt; Admiral Vernon and -Commodores Boscawen and Smith were each at sea with a squadron looking -for ships carrying the invaders; while fifty merchantmen, styled -"armed cruisers," were patrolling the Channels round our shores. Also, -as an outcome of the panic, the inhabitants of London had purchased -for the army about to take the field against the Pretender, 12,000 -pairs of breeches and the same number of pairs of woollen gloves, -12,000 shirts, 10,000 woollen caps and pairs of stockings, and 9,000 -pairs of woollen spatterdashes; while, not to be outdone by the other -citizens, the managers of the then existing London theatres offered to -form the members of their various companies into volunteers attached -to the City regiment. - -But, ere the springtime had come, the invasion was over, the danger -past. The young Duke of Cumberland, fresh from his triumphs in -Flanders, had not only destroyed the rebel army, but had taken terrible -and bloody vengeance upon all who had opposed him.[Note C] Therefore -London--indeed, all England--slept again in safety at night, and with -the arrival of summer had plunged with greater fervour than ever into -all its usual enjoyments. Amongst the enjoyments of the former none -were more popular than those of Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens, the -latter being more generally known and spoken of at that period as the -Spring Gardens. Here, on the warm evenings which May brought with it, -until the fashionable world departed for its country seats, or for -Bath, Epsom, or Tunbridge, went on one continual round of pleasures -and festivities--one night a masquerade, another a concert, vocal and -instrumental, where, among others, the mysterious Tenducci--whose sex -was always matter of discussion--sang and warbled, sometimes in a -man's voice, sometimes in a woman's; illuminations took place every -evening, and, as they died out and the company departed, the -nightingales might be heard singing in the neighbouring fields and -groves. - -It was on one of these warm May nights that the wherry which brought -Lady Belrose's party from Pimlico Fields to the Spring Gardens arrived -at the latter place, while, as the boat touched the shore, from the -gardens might already be heard the orchestra playing. In the wherry -sat, of course, Lady Belrose herself, a still young and still -good-looking woman, who, being a widow, thought herself entitled to -always have in attendance upon her some beau or other, and who, -to-night, had brought two, one a young lad from Oxford, the other -almost as young a man, Sir Charles Ames. By her side sat Lady -Fordingbridge, whose plain evening frock contrasted somewhat strongly -with that of her friend, who was arrayed in a gorgeous brocade silk, -while one of her cavaliers carried over his arm a green velvet mantle -laced with gold, in case the evening turned cold and she should have -occasion for it. - -"I protest," said her ladyship, as stepping ashore she put on her -mask, in which she was copied by the others--"I protest the very sound -of the fiddles squeaking makes me long for a dance. Mr. Fane," she -said, turning to that gentleman, who formed the last member of the -party, "am I to have you for a partner to-night?" - -Fane bowed and responded politely that he only trusted his old age and -stiff joints would not prevent him from making himself acceptable, on -at least one occasion, to her ladyship; while Sir Charles Ames, -turning to Kitty, desired to know if she would so far favour him as to -give him a dance. - -But Lady Belrose, who had already gathered from her friend that she -only made one of the party because of a serious and grave interview -which she anticipated having with a gentleman whom she might meet at -the _fête_, here interposed and, in a few well-chosen words, gave the -baronet to understand that to dance was not Lady Fordingbridge's -desire that evening. "She is not well," she said, "and will simply be -an onlooker. Meanwhile, doubtless I can find you a sufficiency of -partners among other friends." To this the young man protested that -there was no need for Lady Belrose to endeavour to find him partners -among her friends, since, if she would but condescend to be his -partner, he could not possibly desire any other, and so, with these -interchanges of politeness, they entered the gardens. - -On this particular night at Vauxhall--the opening masquerade of the -season--the fashionable world, as well as those who, though not in -that world themselves, loved to gaze on the happier beings who were of -it, assembled in large numbers and in a variety of costumes. -Scaramouches in their black dresses, toques and masks, with rush -lances in their hands, mingled with dancing girls clad in the Turkish -costumes still known in these days as "Roxanas," in memory of the -infamous woman who had first worn this garb; shepherdesses walked -arm-in-arm with men dressed as grave and reverend clergymen; assumed -victims of the Inquisition, invested in the San Benito, pirouetted and -twirled with brazen-faced and under-clad Iphigenias and Phrynes--for -the world was none too modest in those days!--mock soldiers, knights -and satyrs, harlequins, and men in wizard's garments danced and drank, -laughed and shouted with milkmaids, nuns, and Joans of Arc. And to -testify, perhaps, the fact that they had not forgotten the dangers -through which the country had recently passed, and also, perhaps, to -hurl one last taunt at their crushed and broken foes, many of the -maskers had arrayed themselves in the garbs of their late enemies--for -some strutted round and round the orchestra pavilion and banqueting -room dressed as Highlanders or French officers, others as miserable -Scotch peasants having in their hands flails and reaping hooks. -Others, again, had even attempted to portray the character of the -unhappy Charles Edward, now in hiding in the Scotch wilds, and, as -they danced and sang or drank their glasses of ale and ate their -twopenny slices of hung-beef, and endeavoured even by their -conversation to ape what they imagined to be the Scotch dialect. At -the same time, outside all this seething, painted, and bedizened crowd -were many others of the better classes, such as those who formed Lady -Belrose's party, or visitors of a similar degree, who contented -themselves by concealing their identity with masks, vizards, and -dominos, or with hoods and laces. - -In a somewhat retired spot beneath where stood a noble statue of -Handel, now nearing his last days, executed by Roubiliac, and at the -back of which were a small wooded green and bosquet in which were many -arbours, Lady Belrose and her friends sat down to watch the -kaleidoscopic crowd. Here, Sir Charles Ames, summoning a waiter, bade -him bring refreshments for the party--viz., some iced fruits and a -flask of champagne--and they being partaken of, he invited her -ladyship to honour him by becoming his partner in a _quadrille de -contredanse_, a new style of dancing introduced into the French -ballets a year or so before, and but just come over to London. This -the sprightly lady accepted at once, having already perfected herself -in the new divertissement under Duharnel's tuition; but, on her other -cavalier desiring also the honour of Lady Fordingbridge's hand, Kitty -refused, on the ground that she knew not the dance, and neither was -she very well. - -"I' faith, Kate," said Lady Belrose, as she shook her sack over her -great balloon-shaped hoop and fastened her mask more tightly under her -hood, "yet have you lost but little to-night. The quadrille is well -enough in our own houses or on our country lawns; here, I protest, the -noise, the dust, and the stench of the oil lamps, to say nothing of -the unknown and, doubtless, unclean creatures with whom we rub -shoulders and touch hands, do not recommend it overmuch. However, lead -me to it, Sir Charles, since you will have it so," and in another -moment she, with her partner and the others who formed the sets, were -bowing and curtseying to each other. - -Meanwhile Mr. Wynn, Lady Belrose's second string, having begged that -he might be allowed to find a partner and himself join in a set, since -Lady Fordingbridge was so obdurate (he, too, had been learning the new -dance from Monsieur Duharnel), took himself off, so that Kitty and her -father were left alone together. And now it was that she, after -scanning each male figure that was "more than common tall," began to -tremble a little in her limbs and to feel as though she were about to -faint. For in that portion of the crowd which was not dancing and -which still followed its leaders round and round the orchestra -pavilion, thereby illustrating the words of Bloomfield, a poet of the -period, who wrote: - - - First we traced the gay circle all round, - Ay--and then we went round it again-- - - -she saw two forms that, she doubted not, were those for whom she -looked--partly in eagerness, partly with nervousness. - -These maskers did not walk side by side, but one behind the other, -and, possibly, to ordinary onlookers would not have appeared to have -any connection with each other. Yet Kitty knew very well that, -inseparable in almost all else, they were now equally so. The first, -who was the tallest, was clad in a costume, perhaps unique that night -in the Spring Gardens, perhaps almost unique among the many costumes -that have ever been assumed since first masquerades were invented. It -was that of the headsman. Arrayed in the garb of that dismal -functionary, a rusty black velvet suit, with the breeches and black -woollen stockings to match, the masker might yet have failed to inform -those who saw him of the character he wished to portray, had it not -been for at least one other accessory. On his back, strapped across -it, he carried the long, narrow-bladed axe used for decapitation, its -handle fringed and tasselled with leathern thongs. Yet there were -other tokens also of the part he represented. In a girdle round his -waistcoat he bore a formidable knife having a blade a foot long and an -inch and a half deep--the knife with which the doomsman finished his -ghastly task if the axe failed to do its duty, as had too often -happened. His mask, too, was not that of the ordinary reveller at such -places as this, not a mask made ostensibly to conceal the features, -yet, as often as not, revealing them almost as clearly as though it -had not been assumed; instead, it was long and full, covering not only -the eyes and the bridge of the nose, but also the whole of the upper -part of the face, and leaving only visible the lower jaw and the two -ends of a thick brown moustache that hung below it. Alone by that -moustache would Kitty have known the wearer, if by no other sign. It -had been pressed too often against her own lips for her to forget it! -Yet, also, would she have known him without it. His companion, the man -who followed after him, was not so conspicuous by his appearance. He, -indeed, wrapped in a long brown woollen cloak which descended to his -shoes and must have been more than warm on such an evening as this, -with at his side a Scotch claymore, or broadsword, and on his head a -Scotch bonnet--the mask, of course, being worn--passed among the crowd -as an excellent representative of their now despised and fallen -enemies. Yet, had that crowd known that amongst them stalked in -reality one whose prowess had been terribly conspicuous when exhibited -against their own soldiers, they might not have gazed as approvingly -as they now did on Douglas Sholto. - -As Kitty regarded these two figures--still trembling and feeling as -though she were about to faint--she saw the eyes of the former one fix -themselves upon her, and observed him hesitate for a moment ere -continuing his course, then, in an instant, he went on again in the -stream that continued to revolve round the orchestra pavilion. And she -knew that a few moments would bring him again before her. - -"Father," she said, nerving herself to that interview which she so -ardently desired, yet which, womanlike, she almost feared now, "the -green behind looks cool and inviting, especially now that the sun is -gone and the lamps are lit. I will stroll down there awhile and take -the air. Meanwhile, rest you here--there is some more champagne in the -flask--and keep these seats until the others come back. The -_contredanse_ will be finished just now." - -"Mind no gallant treats ye rudely, child. The crowd is none too -orderly as regards some of its members. Ladies alone, and without a -cavalier, may be roughly accosted." - -"Have no fear," she said, "I can protect myself. I shall be back ere -Lady Belrose takes part in the next dance," saying which she turned -and went down the walk that led between the grassy lawn and the -arbours, in each of which now twinkled the many-coloured oil lamps. -And, as she so turned, that portion of the maskers in which was the -man dressed as the headsman passed by the chair she had just vacated, -and she knew that he must have seen her rise and move away. - -A few moments later she was aware that such was the case. A heavy -tread sounded behind her--she had now advanced considerably down the -path and had almost reached a rustic copse, in which were two or three -small arbours--another instant, and the voice she longed yet feared to -hear, the voice that she thought trembled a little as it spoke, -addressed her: - -"Is Lady Fordingbridge not afraid to separate herself from her party -thus?" she heard Bertie Elphinston say--surely his voice quivered as -he spoke. "Or does pity prompt her to do so; pity for another?" - -"Lady Fordingbridge," she replied, knowing that her own voice was not -well under control, "has no fear of anyone, unless it be of those -whom, all unwittingly, she has injured." Then, scarcely knowing what -she said, or whether her words were intelligible, and feeling at a -loss what else to say, she gazed up at him and exclaimed, "You come to -these festivities in a strange garb, sir. Surely the executioner's is -scarcely a suitable one for a night of rejoicing." - -"Yet suitable to him who wears it. Perhaps 'tis best that I who may -apprehend----" - -"Oh, Mr. Elphinston!" she exclaimed suddenly, interrupting him, "it -was not to hear such words as these that I came here to-night. You -know why I have sought this meeting; have you nought to say to me but -this?" - -"Yes," he replied, "yes. But let us not stand here upon the path -exposed to the gaze of all the crowd. Come, let us enter this arbour. -We shall be unobserved there." - -She followed him into the one by which they were standing, and--for -she felt her limbs were trembling beneath her--sank on to a rustic -bench. And he, standing above her, went on: - -"The letter that you sent to me asked that I should pity and forgive -you. Kate, we meet again, perhaps for the last time on earth; let me -say at once, there is nothing for me to forgive. If fault there was, -then it was mine. Let mine, too, be the blame. I should have told you -that Elphinston of Glenbervy was about to marry Mademoiselle -Baufremont. Yet, he had sworn me to silence, had bidden me, upon our -distant kinsmanship, to hold my peace, had sought my assistance to -enable him to wed the woman whom he loved. How could I disclose his -secret even to you? How could I foresee that a scheming devil would -turn so small a thing to so great an account?" - -"But," she said, gazing up at him and noticing--for both had -instinctively unmasked at the same time--how worn his face was, how, -alas! in his brown hair there ran grey threads though he was still so -young; "but why, to all those letters I sent, was no answer -vouchsafed? I thought from one or from the other some reply must -surely come. Have you forgotten how, for many years now, we -four--Douglas and Archibald, you and I--had all been as brothers and -sister--until--until," she broke off, and then continued: "how we had -vowed that between us all there should be a link and bond of -friendship that should be incessable?" - -"I have forgotten nothing," he replied, "nothing. No word that was -ever spoken between us, no vow, nor promise ever made." - -Again the soft blue eyes were turned to him, imploringly it seemed; -begging by their glance that he should spare her. And, ceasing to -speak of his remembrance of the past, he continued: "Circumstances, -strange though they were, prevented any one of us from receiving your -letters--or from answering them in time. I was lying ill of Roman -fever at the English College; Archibald Sholto was in Tuscany in the -train of Charles Edward, Cardinal Aquaviva having provided their -passports; Douglas was with De Roquefeuille, and received your letter -only on his return to Paris, where it had been sent back to him. Kate, -in that stirring time, when the prince was passing from Rome to -Picardy, was it strange no answer should come?" - -"No, no," she replied. "No," and as she spoke she clasped both of her -hands in her lap, and bent her head to hide her tears. Then she -muttered, yet not so low but that he could hear her: "Had I but -waited! but trusted!" - -"It would have been best," he said very gently. And as he spoke, as -though in mockery of their sad hearts, many of the maskers went by -laughing and jesting, and the quadrille being finished the band was -playing the merry old tune of "The Bird that danced the Rigadoon." - -"You hear the air?" she said, looking up suddenly again. "You hear? -Oh! my heart will break." - -"Yes," he answered, "I hear." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -"FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." - - -That song in the old days in the Rue Trousse-Vache had been the air -which Bertie Elphinston had whistled many a time to Kate to let her -know that he was about to enter the "_salle d'escrime_," or to make -her look out of the window and see the flowers he had brought her from -his mother's garden in the suburbs. Also, on a Sunday morning early, -he had often stood beneath the window of her room and had piped the -"Rigadoon" to remind her that it was time for them to be away for -their day's outing. For in those happy times--alas! but a year -ago--these two fond, happy lovers had spent every Sabbath together and -alone. Arm in arm the whole day; or, when the soft summer nights fell -over the Bois de Boulogne, or the woods of St. Germain or the Forest -of Fontainebleau, his arm round her waist and her soft fair head upon -his shoulder, they had wandered together, taking a light meal here and -there at any roadside _auberge_ they happened on, and then both going -back to supper, at her father's little house, where, as they had done -all day, they talked of the future that was before them. - -And now the future had come and they were parted for ever! No wonder -that the old French song which had found its way to England grated -harshly on their ears. - -"Thank God, 'tis finished," he said, as the orchestra struck up a -dance tune next. "For us, to our hearts, it awakens memories best left -to slumber for ever." Then sitting down by her side on the rustic -bench, he continued: "Kate, you wrote in your letter to me," and he -touched his breast involuntarily as he spoke, so that she knew he bore -it about him, "that there was private treachery to be feared. Is it to -be feared from him?" - -"Alas!" she whispered, "I almost dread 'tis so. He is not satisfied -yet; he----" - -"He should be! He has all I wanted." - -"To injure you," she continued, "would be, as he knows, the best way -to strike at me." - -"To strike at you?" - -"Yes, to repay me for my scorn and contempt--my hate of him." - -"You hate him!" he exclaimed. - -"From the depths of my heart. How can it be otherwise? His -treachery--when I learnt it--made me despise him; his conduct since -has turned my contempt to hatred. Oh," she exclaimed, "it is awful, -terrible for a woman to hate her husband! Yet what cause have I to do -aught else? When he speaks--though I have long since ceased to reply -to anything he says--his words are nothing but sneers and scorn; -sometimes of you, sometimes of me. And he gloats over having separated -us, of having taken your place, while at the same time he is so bitter -against me that, if he dared, I believe he would kill me. Moreover, he -fears your vengeance. That is another reason why, if he could betray -you to the Government, he would." - -"'Tis by betrayal alone that we can be injured," Bertie said, -thoughtfully. "None of our names are known, nor in the proscribed -list. Yet how can he do it? He it was who planned the attack upon the -Fubbs[2] to be made when the Elector crossed from Holland; he who -disseminated the tracts, nay, had them printed, counselling his taking -off. He was worse than any--no honest Jacobite ever stooped to -assassination!--and many of us know it." - -"Be sure," she replied, "that what he could do would be done in -secret; Bert--Mr. Elphinston, who is that man who has passed the -arbour twice or more, and looks always so fixedly at you?" - -"I know not," he replied, "yet he has been ever near Douglas and -me--he and another man--since we entered the gardens. Perhaps a -Government spy. Well, he can know nought of me." - -The man she had mentioned was a tall, stoutly-built individual, -plainly enough clad in an old rusty black suit of broadcloth, patched -black stockings and thick-soled shoes with rusty iron buckles upon -them, and bore at his side a stout hanger. He might be a spy, it was -true, but he might also have been anything else, a low follower of the -worst creatures who infested the gardens, a gambling-hell tout, or a -bagnio pimp. Yet his glance from under his vizard was keen and -penetrating as it was fixed on them, but especially on Elphinston, -each time he passed the summer house wherein they sat. - -But now their conversation, which to both seemed all too short and to -have left so much unsaid, was interrupted by the advent of Douglas -Sholto, who came swiftly down the shell-strewn path, and, seeing them -in the arbour, paused and entered at once. - -"Kitty," he said, grasping her hand, "this is not the greeting I had -intended to give you, though it's good to look upon your bonnie face -again. But, Bertie, listen. We are watched, followed, perhaps known; -indeed, I am sure of it. One of those fellows who have kept near to -us, and whom we saw at Wandsworth as we set forth--I see the other -down the path--spoke but now to three soldiers of the Coldstreams. -Perhaps 'twas to identify us; you remember the First Battalion at -Culloden," he added grimly; "perhaps to call on them for help. -Bertie, we must be away at once." - -"'Tis as I suspected," said Lady Fordingbridge, now pale as ashes and -trembling from head to foot. "My words have too soon come true. How, -how has he done it?" - -"Farewell, Kate," said Bertie Elphinston, "we must, indeed, hasten if -this is true. Yet first let me take you to your father and friends. -Then," with a firm set look on his face, he said, "Douglas and I must -see our way through this, if 'tis as he suspects. Come, Kate." - -"No, no," she said, imploringly. "Wait not to think of me. Begone -while there is yet time. Lose no moment. Farewell, farewell. We may -meet again yet." - -But ere another word could be said a fresh interruption occurred. From -either end of the path that ran between the arbour and the lawn, both -spies--for such they soon proclaimed themselves--advanced to where the -others were; the first, the one of whom Kate had spoken, coming back -from the end by the bosquet, the other from the platform where the -orchestra and dancing were. And in the deepening twilight, for it was -now almost dark, the three soldiers of the Coldstreams came too, -followed by two others belonging to the "Old Buffs," a regiment also -just brought back to London after Falkirk and Culloden. And behind -these followed a small knot of visitors to the gardens who had gleaned -that there was something unusual taking place, or about to do so. - -"Your names," said the first man, who had kept watch over the -movements of Elphinston, as he came close to the two comrades, while -his own companion and the soldiers also drew very near, "are, if I -mistake riot, Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto. Is that the case?" - -"My friend," said the former, "I would bid you have a care how you ask -persons unknown to you, and to whom you are unknown, what their names -are. It is a somewhat perilous proceeding to take liberties with -strangers thus." - -"You are not persons unknown to me. I can give a full description of -your actions during the last year, which would cause you to be torn -limb from limb by the people in this garden. As it is, I require you -to go with us to the nearest magistrate, where I shall swear an -information against you, and----" - -"By what process," asked Douglas Sholto, "do you propose to carry out -your requirements? By your own efforts, perhaps?" - -"By our own efforts, aided by those of five soldiers here, of several -others now in the Spring Gardens, and by the general company herein -assembled, if necessary. But come, sirs, we trifle time away. Will you -come, or won't you?" - -For answer Douglas Sholto dealt the man such a blow with his fist that -he fell back shrieking that his jaw was broken; while his comrade, -calling on the soldiers for aid in the name of the King against rebels -who had fought at Culloden, hurled himself on Elphinston, with his -sword drawn and in his hand. But the latter, drawing from his back the -long lean-bladed axe, presented so formidable an appearance, that the -other shrank back appalled, though he called on the soldiers still for -assistance. - -"Beware," said Elphinston, as he ranged himself by the side of his -friend, "beware! We are not men to be played with, and, as sure as -there's a heaven above, if any of you come within swing of my arm, -I'll lop your heads off!" - -"The hound fought at Culloden; I saw him there," said one of the -Coldstreams. "By heavens, I'll attempt it on him if he had fifty -axes," and so saying he sprang full at the young Scotchman. As he -came, the latter might have cleft his head open from scalp to chin, -but he was a soldier himself; and the other had not drawn the short -sword he wore at his side ere he flew at him. Therefore, he only -seized him by the throat as he would have seized a mad bull-dog that -attacked him, and in a minute had hurled the fellow back among the -others. But now all the soldiers as well as the two police agents had -had time to draw their weapons, and seven gleaming blades were -presented at the breasts of the two young men when a timely assistance -arrived. - -Sir Charles Ames burst through the crowd on the outskirts of the -antagonists, his own bright court rapier flashing in the air, and -following him came Mr. Wynn and Doyle Fane, also with their weapons -drawn. - -"For shame! For shame!" said Sir Charles. "Five great hulking soldiers -and two others against two men. Put up your weapons, or we'll make -you." - -"Put up your own," said one of the Old Buffs; "they are rebels. Curse -them! We have met before," and as he spoke he lunged full at the -breast of Elphinston. - -"Hoot!" said Fane, the spirit of the old swordsman, the old Irishman, -aroused at this, "if it's for tilting, my boys, come along. It's a -pretty dance I'll teach ye. There, now, look to that." And with the -easiest twist of his wrist he parried the soldier's thrust at -Elphinston, with another he had slit the sleeve of the man's uniform -to the elbow, while a thin line of blood ran quickly out from his arm. - -"My word," he continued, "I've always said the worst hands in the -world with a sword were soldiers--of these present days. Your mother's -broom handles would suit ye better," whereon he turned his point -towards another. - -Meanwhile Sir Charles Ames had placed himself by Bertie and Douglas, -and had already exchanged several passes with the others, when, -stepping back a moment into the arbour, he saw to his intense -astonishment the figure of Kitty, she being in a swoon, and -consequently unconscious. - -"Lady Fordingbridge," he murmured, "Lady Fordingbridge. So, so! A -little assignation with our rebel friends. Humph! I'd scarce have -thought it of her. However, 'tis no affair of mine, and as she's Molly -Belrose's friend, why, I must be the same to her friends." Whereon he -again took his place alongside the two Jacobites and assisted at -keeping the others at bay. - -But the crowd still augmented in their neighbourhood, and while the -soldiers--all of whom had of late fought in Flanders as well as -Scotland, and were as fierce as their chief, Cumberland--were pressing -the others hardly, some of the livelier masqueraders began to feel -disposed to assist one side or another. Therefore, 'twas almost a riot -that now prevailed in the Spring Gardens; and as among the company -there were numerous other Jacobites, who, although they had probably -not been out with Charles Stuart, were very keen in their sympathies -with his cause, they took the opportunity of joining the fracas on -their own account and of breaking the heads of several Hanoverian -supporters. And also, gathering that the scene arose from the -attempted apprehension of two of their own leaning, they gradually -directed their way towards the arbour where the affray had -begun--summarily knocking down or tripping up all who opposed them, so -that the next morning many shopboys, city clerks, and respectable city -puts themselves appeared at their places of business with broken -crowns, bruised faces, and black eyes. - -At present nothing serious had occurred beyond a few surface wounds -given on either side; the soldiers and police agents were no match for -the five skilful swordsmen to whom they were opposed, and the latter -refrained from shedding the blood of men beneath them. - -"Yet," said Sir Charles Ames to Mr. Wynn, while he wiped his face with -his lace-embroidered handkerchief, "if the canaille do not desist soon -I must pink one for the sake of my gentility. Wynn, where is Lady -Belrose during this pleasing interlude?" - -"Safe in the supper room," replied the young beau. "She is very well. -I saw to that. Ames, who are these stalwart Highlanders whose cause we -espouse?" - -"The devil himself only knows," replied the worldly exquisite. "Ha! -would you?" to one of the Coldstreams as he tried a pass at him. "Go -home, my man, go home. I know your colonel; you shall be whipped for -this. Yet," he whispered to his friend, "I do think these knocks are -_pour les beaux yeux de madame_. What's that shout?" - -"The constables, I imagine." - -"The more the merrier! Ha! Wynn, we are borne along the path. The -deuce take it, we have lost the shelter of the arbour!" - -"For Heaven's sake," whispered Elphinston to the baronet, "as I see -you are a gentleman, go back and look to Lady Fordingbridge. I cannot -see her after to-night--sir, on your honour, tell her 'All is well.' -She will understand." - -"On my honour, I will," the baronet replied. "London will be too hot -for you--perhaps for me, too. I do fear I'm a little of a Stuart -myself; but listen, my aunt, Lady Ames, lives at Kensington, by the -Gravel Pits; direct a letter to--to the fair one, under cover to my -respected relative, and she shall get it. Oh, no thanks, I beg; I have -my own _affaires de c[oe]ur_. I know, I know----" - -And now the _mêlée_ became more general, and gradually the partisans -of both sides were borne asunder, two only keeping together, Bertie -and Douglas. - -"Where is Fane?" whispered the former. - -"With Kate. I saw him in the bower with her. Heaven grant----" - -He was interrupted by a man who at this moment ranged himself -alongside them both, and who muttered, "Follow me, through the copse -here. There is an exit by which you can escape from the gardens. Back -yourselves to the copse as easily as you can, then watch my -movements." - -"To leave her thus is impossible!" exclaimed Elphinston. "I cannot." - -"Tush, nonsense!" replied Sholto, "her father is with her and our -dandy friends by now. Come, come, we can do better for her and all of -us by escaping than by being taken." - -"But Fane; they will arrest him." - -"If they do he has his answer. He was protecting his daughter. And her -position will assure his. Come, Bertie, come. Once outside, we can -seek new lodgings in another part of the town; put on new disguises. -Come." - -All the time this colloquy had taken place they had still been -struggling with others, though by now the affray had lost the -sanguinary character it once threatened to possess. The soldiers and -the agents were separated from them by a mass of people, among whom -were many of their sympathisers; but none were using deadly weapons, -rather preferring buffeting and hustling than aught else. So that, as -the tall man entered another summer house and, dragging Sholto and -Elphinston after him, shut a door which guarded its entrance, the -thing was done so quickly that the two originals of the disturbance -had disappeared in the darkness ere they were missed. - -"This," said the man, "is a private entrance and exit, reserved for -some very high and mighty personages whom I need not mention. They are -good patrons of ours--I am the proprietor's, Mr. Jonathan Tyers, chief -subordinate. Also a Scotchman like yourselves, or by now you would -probably have been taken. Hark to them!" - -The people were howling outside, "Down with the rebels!" "Find the -Culloden dogs and cut them to pieces!" etc., the soldiers' voices -being heard the loudest of all, while in response many shouted, -"Charlie Stuart for aye!" and some bolder spirits shrieked a then -well-known song, "The Restoration," which had been originally composed -in honour of the return of Charles II. - -"Come," said the tall man, "come, your safety is here." Wherewith he -opened another door in the back of the arbour and showed them a quiet -leafy lane which was entirely deserted. "There," he continued, "is your -way. Follow the grove in this direction, and 'twill bring you to -Kennington," and he pointed south; "the other leads to the river. Fare -ye well, and if you are both wise, quit London as soon as you have -changed your garments. For myself I must go round to the front -entrance; if I go back through the gardens I may be called to account -by the mob for your escape." - -Upon which, and not waiting for his countrymen's thanks, he took -himself off quickly. - -"Which way now, Bertie?" asked Douglas. "Wandsworth is done with. -Where to?" - -"To Kensington. I, at least, must watch the square to see if Kate gets -safe back to her home." - -"Then we go together. Only, what of these accursed clothes? We must -make shift to get rid of them." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -DENOUNCED. - - -To put the river between them and their late antagonists and would-be -captors naturally occurred to the young men as their wisest plan, -although as, urged by Douglas, the other strode towards it, he more -than once reproached himself for coming away and leaving Lady -Fordingbridge behind. Nor could any words uttered by his friend -persuade him to regard his departure as anything else than -pusillanimous. - -"She went there to meet me; to see me once again," he repeated, "and I -have left her to Heaven knows what peril. These men know me--know -us--well enough for what we are. 'Tis not difficult to guess whence -comes their knowledge! They may accuse her of being a rebel, too. Oh! -Kate, Kate! what will be the end of it all; what the finish of our -wrecked and ruined lives?" - -"No harm can come to her, I tell you," replied his comrade. "Why, man, -heart up! Has not the fox, Fordingbridge, made his peace with George; -how shall they arrest his wife or her father as rebels? Tush! 'tis not -to be thought on. Come, fling away as much of this disguise as -possible. We near the end of the lane, and I can hear the shouts of -the watermen to their fares; and still we must go a mile or two higher -up and take boat ourselves." - -As he spoke he discarded his own woollen cloak, and tossed it over a -high fence into the grounds of a country house by which they were now -passing, while, slowly enough, for his heart was sore within him, -Bertie imitated his actions. The axe (which, like the principal part -of his dress, had been hired from a costumer or fashioner--a class of -tradesmen more common even in those days than these, since fancy -dresses were greatly in demand for the masques, _ridottos al fresco_, -and fancy dress balls which took place so frequently) had been lost in -the latter part of the riot, and now he discarded also the peculiar -mask he had worn, producing from his pocket the ordinary vizard used -at such entertainments, and which the forethought of Douglas had -induced him to bring. For the rest, his clothes would attract no -attention. They were suitable either to a man whose circumstances did -not permit of his wearing velvet, silk, or fine broadcloth, or to one -who had assumed the simple disguise of a superior workingman. The -headsman's knife, however, he did not discard, but slipped up his -sleeve, and Douglas retained his sword. - -And now they drew near to the end of the lane, when, to their -satisfaction, they perceived an alley running out of it and parallel -to the course of the river, as they supposed, by the aid of which they -might be enabled to follow its course for some distance without coming -out on to the bank where, at this moment, there would be many persons -from the garden taking boat to the other side. - -"Fortune favours us up to now," exclaimed Sholto to his moody -companion, as they turned into this smaller lane; "Heaven grant it may -continue to do so!" Then, changing the subject, he said, "Bertie, lad, -who do you think set those bloodhounds on us? 'Twas some one who knew -of our hiding-hole. As we remarked, we were followed from Wandsworth." - -"Who!" said Elphinston, stopping to look in his friend's face and -peering at him under the light of the stars, "who, but one? The man -whom I have to kill; whom I am ordained to kill sooner or later." - -"You will kill him?" the other asked, stopping also. - -"As a dog, when next I see him--or, no, not as a dog, for that is a -creature faithful and true, and cannot conceive treachery--but as some -poisonous, devilish thing, adder or snake, that stings us to the death -when least we expect the blow. Why," he asked, pausing, "do you -shudder?" - -"I know not," replied Douglas; "yet I have done so more than once when -his name has been mentioned. I know not why," he repeated, "unless I -am fey." - -"Fey! fey!" echoed Elphinston. "Let him be fey! He should be! It is -predestined; his fate at my hands is near. He cannot avoid it." - -As they ceased speaking they continued on their way until, at last, -the lane opened on to a dreary waste of fields and marshes which -stretched towards the very places which they most desired to avoid, -Battersea and Wandsworth; while opposite to them, on the other side of -the river, were the equally dreary marshes known as Tothill and -Pimlico Fields. - -"I' faith," said Douglas, as his eye roamed over all this extent of -barrenness, which was more apparent than it would otherwise have been -owing to the late rising of the moon, now near its full, "I' faith, -we're atwixt the devil and the deep sea--or, so to speak, the river. -How are we to cross; or shall we go back and over the bridge at -Westminster?" - -"Nay," replied Bertie; "as we came down the lane I saw a house to the -right of us; doubtless 'tis to that the lane belongs. Now, 'tis -certain there must be boats somewhere. Let us down to the shore and -see. Hark! there is the clock of Chelsea Church striking. The west -wind brings the sound across the marshes. Ha! 'tis eleven of the -clock. Come, let us waste no time." - -They turned therefore down to the river's bank, walking as quietly as -possible so that their feet should make no more noise than necessary -on the stones and shingle, for it was now low tide; and then, to their -great joy, they saw drawn up by the water's edge a small wherry in -which sat a man, and by his side he had a lantern that glimmered -brightly in the night. - -"Friend," said Elphinston, "we have missed our way after leaving the -Spring Gardens; can you put across the river? We will pay you for your -trouble." - -The fellow looked at them civilly enough, then he said, "Yes, so that -you waste no time. I have business here which I may not leave for more -than a quarter of an hour. Wilt give me a crown to ferry you across?" - -"The price is somewhat high," said Douglas. "Yet, since we would not -sleep in these marshes all night, nor retrace our steps to Westminster -Bridge, we'll do it." - -"In with you, then," replied the man, "yet, first give me the crown; I -have been deceived by dissolute maskers ere now." Then, when he had -received the money, he said he supposed Ranelagh or the New Chelsea -Waterworks[3] would do very well. "Aye," said Douglas, "they will do," -whereupon, having taken their seats, the man briskly ferried them -across. - -Yet, as they traversed the river, the fear sprang into their hearts -that they had been tracked from Vauxhall, that even yet they were not -safe from pursuit. For scarcely were they half way across the stream -when the man's lantern, which he had left on the bank--perhaps as a -signal--was violently waved about in the air by some hand, while a -couple of torches were also seen flickering near it and voices were -heard calling to him. - -"Ay! ay!" the man bellowed back; "ay! ay! What! may I not earn a crown -while you do your dirty work? In good time. In good time," he roared -still louder, in response to further calls from the bank, while he -pulled more lustily than before towards the north shore. - -"What is it?" asked Elphinston. "Who are they who seem so impatient -for your services?" - -"A pack of fools," the man replied. "Young sprigs of fashion who have -been quarrelling there," nodding towards Ranelagh Gardens, to which -they were now close, "quarrelling over their wine and their women, I -do guess, and two of them have crossed over to measure the length of -their swords. Well, well; if one's left on the grass I'll be there -pretty soon to see what pickings there are in his pockets. 'Tis the -fools that provide the wise men's feasts," whereon this philosopher -pulled his boat to the bank, set the young men ashore, and, a moment -later, was quickly pulling away back to the duelling party. - -Ranelagh itself was shut up as they stepped ashore, all its lights -were out and the hackney coachmen and chairmen gone with their last -fares; and of that night's entertainment--which was sure to have -been a great one in rivalry to its neighbour and opponent at -Vauxhall--nothing was left but the shouting figures of those on the -other bank, and, perhaps, a dead man on the grass of the marshes, with -a sword-thrust through his lungs and his wide-staring eyes gazing up -at the moon. It seemed, therefore, that they must walk to Kensington, -since no conveyance was to be found here. - -"Not that the distance is much," said Bertie Elphinston, who had -before now walked at nights from Wandsworth and Chelsea to the Square, -simply to gaze on the house that enshrined the woman he had loved so -much; perhaps also to see the place where the man dwelt whom he meant -to kill when the opportunity should arise--"but 'tis the hour that -grows so late. If they have gone home at once from the gardens without -being disturbed by any of the police agents, she must be housed by -now--and--and--I cannot see her again." - -"At least you can wait. If not to-day, then to-morrow you can meet, -surely. All trace of us is lost now, we shall never go back to -Wandsworth--we must send the landlady our debt by some sure hand--a -change of clothes and hiding place will put us in safety again. And as -for messages, why, Archibald will convey them." - -"Archibald!" exclaimed the other with a start. "Archibald! Heavens! we -had forgotten!--what have we been thinking of? He may be taken too." - -"Taken! Archibald taken! Oh, Bertie, why should that be?" - -"Why should it be! Rather ask, why should it not be? Do you think that -tiger's whelp who has set the law on us will spare him? No, Simeon -Larpent means to make a clean sweep of all at once; his wife's old -lover, that lover's friend, and the priest who knows so much of his -early life and all his secrets, plots and intrigues against first one -and then the other, Jacobite and Hanoverian alike. I tell you, -Archibald is in as great a danger as we are!" and he strode on -determinately as he spoke. - -Their way lay now towards Knightsbridge by a fair, broad road through -the fields, and between some isolated houses and villas that were -dotted about; and as by this time the moon was well up, everything -they passed could be seen distinctly. Of people, they met or passed -scarcely any; the road that, an hour or so before, had been covered -with revellers of all degrees wending their way back from Ranelagh to -the suburbs of Chelsea, Kensington, and Knightsbridge, or to what had, -even in those days, been already called "The Great City," was now, -with midnight at hand, as deserted as a country lane. Yet one sign -they did see of the debaucheries that took place in Ranelagh as well -as in the Spring Gardens; a sign of the drunkenness and depravities -that prevailed terribly in those days among almost all classes. Lying -at the side of the road, where, doubtless, they had fallen together as -they reeled away from the night's orgie, they perceived two young men -and a young woman--masked, and presenting a weird appearance as they -lay on their backs, their flushed faces turned up to the moon, yet -with the upper part hidden by the black vizard. It was easy to -perceive that all had fallen together and been afterwards unable to -rise--as they lay side by side they were still arm in arm, and, -doubtless, the first who had fallen had dragged the others after him. -The two young men seemed from their apparel to be of a respectable -class, perhaps clerks or scriveners, their clothes being of good -cloth, though not at all belaced; as for their companion, the -bacchante by their sides, she might have been anything from shopgirl -or boothdancer down to demirep. - -"Now," said Douglas, "here is our chance for disguise. These fellows -have good enough coats and hats--see, too, they sport the black -cockade. Well, 'twill not hurt them to sell us some apparel." -Wherewith he proceeded to lift the nearest sot up and relieve him of -his coat, waistcoat, and hat. Apparently the fellow thought he was -being put to bed by some one, as he muttered indistinctly, "Hang coat -over chair--shan't wear it 'gain till Sunday"--but as Douglas slipped -a couple of guineas into his breeches pocket he went to sleep -peacefully enough once more. As for the other young man, he never -stirred at all while Bertie removed his garments, nor when he put into -his pocket a similar sum of two guineas, and also his copper-cased -watch, which had slipped from out his fob. - -"They are somewhat tight and pinching," remarked Douglas as he and his -friend donned their new disguise, "even though we are now as lean as -rats after our Scotch campaign." - -Yet, tight as their new clothes were, they answered, at least, a good -purpose. It would have taken a shrewd eye to recognise in these two -respectably clad men--in spite of their coats being somewhat dusty -from having lain in the road while on the backs of their late masters, -the headsman and the Highlander who, a few hours before, had walked -round and round the orchestra pavilion at Vauxhall. - -After this they went forward briskly towards Kensington-square, -attracting no attention from anyone indeed meeting few people, for at -this distance from the heart of the town there was scarcely anyone -ever stirring after midnight, and it was somewhat past that time now. -As they neared Kensington, it is true, they were passed by a troop of -the Queen's Guards (as the 2nd Life Guards were then called) -returning, probably, from some duty at St. James's Palace, but -otherwise they encountered none whom they need consider hostile to -them. - -In the square there was, when they reached it at last, no sign of -life. The watchman in his box slumbered peacefully, his dog at his -feet, and in the windows of the houses scarcely a light was to be -seen. Nor was there any appearance of activity in the house belonging -to Fordingbridge, though Bertie thought he should have at least seen -some light in the room which he knew, from enquiry of Sholto, to be -Kate's. - -"'Tis strange," he said, "strange. Surely they must have returned -from the masquerade by now. After crossing the water a coach would -have brought them here in less than an hour. 'Tis passing strange!" - -"They may have got back so early," hazarded Douglas, "that already -all are abed. Or they may have gone on to Lady Belrose's, in -Hanover-square. A hundred things may have happened. And where, I -wonder, is Archie? He surely will be in bed." - -"Can he be arrested? It may be so." - -"God forbid! Yet this darkness and silence seem to me ominous. What -shall we do?" - -"Heaven knows. Hist! Who comes here?" and as he spoke, from out -of one of the doorways over which was, as may still be seen, a huge -scallop-shell, there stepped forth a man. Enveloped in one of the long -cloaks, or roquelaures, still worn at the period, and with the tip of -a sword's scabbard sticking out beneath it, the man sauntered -leisurely away from where they were standing, yet as he went they -could hear him humming to himself an air they both knew well. It was -that old tune "The Restoration"--which they had heard once before this -evening!--to which the Highland army marched after it had crossed the -border. - -Presently the man turned and came towards them slowly, then as he -passed by he looked straight in their faces, and, seeming satisfied by -what he saw, he muttered, "A fine spring night, gentlemen. Ay, and so -it is. A fine night for the young lambs outside the town and for the -hawks within--though the hawks get not always their beaks into the -lambs too easily; in fact, I may give myself classical license and say -they are _non semper triumphans_." - -"In very truth," replied Bertie, "some--though 'tis not always the -hawks--are _nunquam triumphans_. That is, if I apprehend your -meaning." - -"Ay, sir," said the man, dropping his classics and changing his manner -instantly. "You apprehend me very well. Sir, I am here with a message -for you from a certain Scotch trader, one Mr. Archibald; also from a -certain fair lady----" - -"Ah!" - -"Or rather, let me say, without beating about the bush, I brought to a -certain fair lady, to-night, a message from Mr. Archibald, while she, -considering it possible that a certain, or two certain brave gentlemen -might appear in this square to-night, did beg me to remain in this sad -square to deliver the message." - -"Sir," said Elphinston, teased by the man's quaint phraseology, yet -anxious to know what the message really was that had been sent from -Father Sholto to Kate, and on from her to him, "sir, we thank you very -much. Will you now please to deliver to us that message?" - -"Sir, I will. It is for that I am here." Then without more ado he said -hastily, "The worthy trader has been warned from a friend, a -countryman of ours, who is connected, or attached, so to speak, to the -Scotch Secretary of State's Orifice, that he may very possibly be cast -into durance should he remain there," and he jerked his thumb at Lord -Fordingbridge's house as he spoke; "whereon, seeing that precaution is -the better part of valour, the worthy trader has removed himself from -the hospitable roof there," upon which he this time jerked his head -instead of his thumb towards the house, "and has sought another -shelter which, so to speak as it were, is not in this part of the -town, but more removed. But, being a man of foresight and precaution, -also hath he gone to warn two gallant gentlemen residing at a sweet -and secluded village on the river to be careful to themselves -remove----" - -"That," said Douglas, "we have already done. Yet his warning must have -got there too late." - -"And," continued their garrulous and perspicacious friend, "also did -he request and desire me to attend here in the square until a certain -fair lady should return from the gallimanteries and _ridottos al -fresco_ to which she had that evening been." - -"And did the certain fair lady return?" asked Elphinston, unable to -repress a smile at his stilted verbiage. - -"Return she did. In gay company! Two sparks with her, dressed in the -best, though somewhat dishevelled as though with profane dancings and -junketings--one had his coat ripped from lapel to skirt--and an -elderly man--I fear me also a wassailer!--with a fierce eye. Then I up -and delivered the worthy--hem!--trader's message, when, lo! as flame -to torch-wood, there burst forth from all a tremendous clamjamfry such -as might have been heard up there," and this time he jerked his head -towards where Kensington Palace lay. - -"As how?" asked the young men together. "Why should they make a -clamjamfry?" - -"Hech!" answered their eccentric countryman, "'tis very plain ye ken -not women--nor, for that matter, the young sparks of London! This is -how it went. One certain fair lady--from whom I bring you a wee bit -message--wrung her hands and wept, saying, 'Betrayed, betrayed again! -The veellain! the veellain!' whereby I think she meant not you; the -other fair lady, who is maybe an hour or so older, stormed and scolded -and screeched about unutterable scoundrels, yet bade the other cease -weeping and seek her house, to which she was very welcome; while the -two young men uttered words more befitting their braw though unholy -dishevelled apparel, and spake of him," and here the nodding head was -wagged over to Fordingbridge's house again, "as though he were Lucifer -incarnate--though that was not the name, so to speak as it were. And -for the old man with the fierce eye, hech! mon, his language was -unbefitting a Christian." - -"And the message the lady scrawled. What is it?" - -"'Tis here," the other replied. "You must just excuse the hasty -writing--" but ere he could finish his remark Bertie had taken a piece -of paper from his hand which he brought out from under his cloak, and, -striding to where an oil lamp glimmered over a doorway, read what it -contained. The few lines ran as follows: - - -"We are once more betrayed. He has, I know, done this. I leave his -house and him for ever from to-night. I pray God you may yet escape. -If you ever loved me, fly--fly at once. Lose no moment.--Katherine." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. - - -It was on a bright afternoon, a week after the events which have been -described, that Lord Fordingbridge's travelling carriage drew up in -front of his house, and my lord descended in an extremely bad humour. -There was, perhaps, more than one reason why he was not in the most -amiable of tempers, the principal one being that the news which he had -hoped to receive ere he again made his entrance into London had not -come to hand. - -All the time that he had been on his Cheshire property--which he had -found to be considerably neglected since his father's departure for -France--he had been expecting to receive, from one source or another, -the information of the arrest of those three enemies of his, about -whom he had given information sufficient to bring them to justice. Yet -none had come. Daily he had sent to the coach office at Chester for -the journals from London, but, when he had perused them, he still -failed to find that any of the three had been haled to justice. Nor -was there even a description in any of them of the scene at -Vauxhall--which, had he found such description, might have been -exceedingly pleasant reading. But, in truth, nothing was more unlikely -than that he should find it. A fracas at either Ranelagh or the Spring -Gardens was by no means likely to be chronicled in either the "London -Journal" or the "Craftsman," or any other news-sheet of the period, -since in those days the ubiquitous reporter was unknown, or, when he -existed, did not consider anything beneath a murder, a state trial, or -an execution worthy of his pen. Also the proprietors of Ranelagh and -Vauxhall, and similar places of entertainment, took very good care to -keep anything unpleasant that happened out of the papers. Nothing -short, therefore, of Mr. Jonathan Tyers sending an account of what had -occurred in his grounds to the papers of the day with the request that -it might be inserted--accompanied, perhaps, by a payment for such -insertion--would have led to the publication of the matter, and that -the worthy proprietor of the Spring Gardens would do such a thing as -this was not to be supposed. - -Also, my lord had received no news from his wife, nor her father, -which astonished him considerably. For he had supposed that, in about -a week's time, the post would bring him a letter full of accusations, -reproaches, and injurious epithets from her ladyship, who, he felt -sure, would at once connect him with the arrest of the three men--yet, -no more from her than from the public prints did he gather one word. -So that at last he began to have the worst fears that, after all, the -Government had bungled in some way and that the victims had escaped. -It was, therefore, in a very ill humour that he again returned to -London, cursing inwardly and vehemently at any delay necessitated by -the changing of horses, by nights spent at inns on the road, and by -the heavy roads themselves; and at St. Albans, where he once more -slept, by receiving no visit at all from Captain Morris, to whom he -had written saying that he would be there on a certain evening and -would be pleased to see him. - -Instead, however, he received a visit from another person who had -troubled his mind a great deal during the past week or so; a somewhat -rough, uncouth-looking fellow, who seemed to have dogged his footsteps -perpetually--who had passed him soon after he left Dunstable on his -journey down, whom he saw again at Coventry and at Stafford, and who, -to his amazement, now strode into the apartment he occupied as -hitherto, and stated that he brought a message from the Captain. - -"Hand it to me, then," said his lordship, regarding the man as he -stood before him in his rough riding cloak and great boots, and -recognising him as the fellow who had appeared so often on his -journey. - -"There is nothing to hand," the other replied. "Only a word-of-mouth -message." - -"A word-of-mouth message! Indeed! Captain Morris spares me but scant -courtesy. Well, what is the message?" - -"Only this. The work has failed, and the birds have escaped from the -net. That's all." - -"Escaped from the net!" his lordship said, sinking back into the deep -chair he sat in, and staring at the uncouth messenger. "Escaped from -the net! But the particulars, man, the particulars! How has it come -about? Are the Government and their underlings a pack of fools and -idiots that they let malignant traitors escape thus?" - -"Very like, for all I know, or, for the matter of that, care. The -captain's one of their underlings, as you call them, and I'm another. -Perhaps we're fools and idiots." - -"You are another, are you?" said his lordship, looking at him, -"another, eh? Pray, sir, is that why you have dogged me into Cheshire -and back again as you have done, for I have seen you often? Am I a -suspected person that I am followed about thus? Am I, sir?" - -"Very like," again replied this stolid individual. "Very like, though -I know not. I received my orders at Dunstable to keep you in sight, -and I kept you, that's----" - -"Leave the room. Go out of my sight at once!" exclaimed Lord -Fordingbridge, springing from his seat and advancing toward the man. -"Go at once, or the ostler shall be sent for to throw you out. Go!" - -When the man had departed, muttering that "fool, or idiot, or both, -he'd done his duty, and he didn't care for any nobleman in England, -Jacobite or Hanoverian, so long as he done that," the viscount gave -himself up to the indulgence of one of those fits, or rather tempests, -of passion, which, as a rule, he rarely allowed himself to indulge in, -and cursed and swore heartily as he stamped up and down the room for -half an hour. - -"Everything goes wrong with me," he muttered, as he shook his fist in -impotent rage at his own reflection in the great mirrors over the -fireplace, "everything, everything! If that infernal captain had only -gone to work as he should have done on the information I gave him, -they would all have been lodged in gaol by now--two of them doomed to -a certain death and the other to a long imprisonment or banishment to -the colonies. And now they are fled--are free--safe, while I am far -from safe since Elphinston is at large; and am suspected, too, it -seems, since, forsooth, that chuckle-headed boor is set to follow me." - -This latter thought was, perhaps, as unpleasant a one as any which -rose to his mind, since if he were also suspected it might be the case -that, while he had denounced the others, they--or probably Archibald -Sholto alone--might have denounced him. And at this terrible thought -he quaked with fear, for he knew what an array of charges might be -brought. Nay, it was the very fear of those charges being brought, -combined with his other fear of Elphinston wreaking vengeance on him -for having deceived and stolen his promised wife, that had led to his -betraying the three men who alone could denounce him. And now they -were all free, instead of being in Newgate or the Tower, and he, it -seemed, was as much suspected as they! - -He tossed about his bed all night, made a wretched breakfast, and then -set out for London, determined at all hazards to discover exactly what -had happened, or perhaps to find out that nothing had happened. Yet as -he went he mused on what his future course should be, and came to at -least one determination. - -"I will send her ladyship packing," he said, with a sardonic grin. "I -have had enough of her and her airs and graces, and she may go to -Elphinston or to the devil for aught I care. I have a surprise to -spring upon her, a trump card, or, as the late Louis was said to call -that card, '_La dernière piece d'or_,' because it always won. And, by -Heaven, I'll spring it without mercy!" - -In which frame of mind his lordship arrived in front of his town -house. But now a new matter of astonishment arose, also a new fuel for -his humours; for the house appeared deserted, the blinds were drawn -down in all the windows. He could perceive no smoke arising from any -chimney, there was no sign of life at all about the place. He bade his -manservant get down from beside the coachman and tug lustily at the -bell, while all the time that the man was doing so he was fretting and -fuming inwardly, and at last was meditating sending for the watch and -having the door forced, when it was opened from the inside, and the -oldest servant in his establishment, a decrepit, deaf old man, who had -acted as caretaker for many years during his and his father's absence -abroad, appeared. - -"Come here, Luke, come here," his lordship called loudly to him; "come -here, I say," and he motioned that he should descend the steps and -approach the travelling carriage, from the door of which he was now -glaring at him. But, whether from fright or senility, or both -combined, the other did not obey him, and only stood shivering and -shaking and feebly bowing upon the threshold. - -"What devil's game is this?" Fordingbridge muttered to himself as he -now sprang out and ran up the steps, after which he grasped the old -man by the collar and, dragging him toward him, bawled in his ear -question after question as to what cause the present state of the -house was owing. But the old fellow only shivered and shook the more, -and seemed too paralyzed by his master's violence to do anything but -wag his jaws helplessly. Hurling him away, therefore, with no -consideration at all for either his age or feebleness, Fordingbridge -rushed through the hall ringing a bell that communicated with the -kitchens and another with the garrets, calling out the names of male -and female servants, and receiving no answer to any of his summons. -Then, tired of this at last, he bade his manservant bring in his -valises and ordered the travelling carriage off to the stables. But by -now the old servitor seemed to have recovered either his breath or his -senses somewhat, and coming up to his lordship in a sidling fashion, -such as a dog assumes when fearful of a blow if it approaches its -master too near, he mumbled that there was no one else in the house -but himself. - -"So I should suppose," Lord Fordingbridge replied, endeavouring to -calm himself and to overcome the gust of passion with which he had -once more been seized, "so I should suppose; I have called enough to -have waked the dead had there been any here." Then once more regarding -the old man with one of his fierce glances, he shouted at him in a -voice that penetrated even to his ears, "Where are they all? Where is -her ladyship?" in a lower voice. "Where are the servants?" - -"Gone, all gone," Luke replied, "all gone. None left but me." - -"Where are they gone to?" - -The old man flapped his hands up and down once or twice--perhaps -he performed the action with a desire to deprecate his master's -anger--and looked up beseechingly into his face as though asking -pardon for what was no fault of his, then replied: - -"Her ladyship has gone away--for good and all, I hear, my lord." - -"Ha! Where is she gone to?" - -"To Lady Belrose's. I am told. She--she--they--the servants say she -will never come back." - -The viscount paused a moment--this news had startled even him!--then -he muttered, "No, I'll warrant she never shall. This justifies me." -And again he continued, still shouting at the old man, so that his -valet upstairs must have heard every word he uttered: - -"And the servants, where are they?" - -"All gone too. They were frightened by the police and the soldiers--" - -"The soldiers! What soldiers?" - -"They ransacked the house to find Mr. Archibald. But he, too, was -gone. That terrified all but me--me it did not frighten. No, no," he -went on, assuming a ludicrous appearance of bravery that was almost -weird to behold, "me it did not frighten. I remember when, also, the -soldiers searched the house for your father, his late lordship -with--he! he!--the same re----" - -"Silence!" roared Fordingbridge. "How dare you couple my father's name -with that fellow? So Mr. Archibald is also gone! But what about the -soldiers? The soldiers, I say," raising his voice again to a shriek. - -"Ah, the soldiers," Luke repeated. "Yes, yes. The soldiers. Brave -soldiers. I had a son once in their regiment, long ago, when Dunmore -commanded them; he was wounded at--um----um" and he stopped, terrified -by the scowl on Lord Fordingbridge's face. - -"What," bawled the latter, "did they do here--in this house? Curse -your son and your recollections, too. What did they do here--in my -house?" - -"They sought for Mr. Archibald--her ladyship being gone forth. But he, -too, was out--ho! ho--and--and he never came back. Then the captain--a -brave, young lord, they say--said you were known to be fostering a -rebel--they called him a rebel Jesuit priest!--that you were denounced -from Dunstable, and that you must make your own account with the -Government. Then the maids fled, and next the men--they said they -owed you no service. Ah! there are no old faithful servants now--or -few--very few." - -"Go!" said Fordingbridge, briefly--and again his look terrified the -poor old creature so, that he slunk off shivering and shaking as -before. - -Slowly the viscount mounted the stairs to his saloon, or withdrawing -room, and when there he cast himself into a chair and brooded on what -he had heard. - -"Harbouring a rebel--a rebel Jesuit priest," he muttered. "So! so! am -I caught in the toils that I myself set? Pardieu, 'twould seem so. I -denounce a rebel, and, unfortunately, that rebel lives on me--is -housed with me. I never thought of that! It may tell badly for me; -worse, too, because I brought him to England in my train. How shall I -escape it?" And he sat long in his chair meditating. - -"The captain said," he went on, "that I must make my own account with -the Government. Ah, yes, yes; why! so indeed I must. And 'tis not -hard. Make my account! Why, yes, to be sure. Easy enough. I, having -embraced the principles of Hanover, and being now firm in my loyalty -to George, do, the better to confound his enemies, shelter in my house -one whom I intend to yield up to him. Well! there's no harm in that, -but rather loyalty. Otherwise," and he laughed to himself as he spoke, -"I might lay myself open to the reproach of being a bad host; of not -respecting the sacredness of the guest." - -Eased in his mind by this reflection and by the excuse which he had -found, as he considered, for appeasing the Government and satisfying -it as to his reasons for sheltering a Jesuit plotter, he rose from his -seat and wandered into the other rooms of his house, viewing with -particular interest and complaisance the one which had been her -ladyship's boudoir, or morning-room. - -"A pretty nest for so fair a bird," he muttered, as he regarded the -Mortlake hangings and lace curtains, the deep roomy lounge, the bright -silver tea service, and--as blots upon the other things--bunches of -now withered flowers in the vases. "A pretty nest. Yet, forsooth, the -silly thing must fall out of it; wander forth to freedom and misery. -For they say, who study such frivolities, that caged birds, once -released, pine and die even in their freedom. _Soit!_ 'tis better that -the bird should escape and die of its own accord than be thrust into -the cold open by its master's hand. And that would have happened to -your ladyship," and he laughed as he spoke of her, "had you not taken -the initiative. My Lady Fordingbridge," uttering the words with -emphasis, nay, with unction, "I had done with you. It was time for you -to go." - -A little clock on the mantelpiece, a masterpiece of Tompion's, chimed -forth the hour musically as he spoke; he remembered his father buying -it as a present for his mother the year before they fled to France; -and turning round to look at it he saw, standing against its face, -where it could not fail to be observed, a letter addressed to him. -Opening it, he found written the words, "I have left the house and -you. I know everything now." That was all; there was no form of -address, no superscription. Nothing could be more disdainful, nor, by -its brevity, more convincing. And, whatever the schemes the man might -have been maturing in his evil mind against the writer, yet that -brief, contemptuous note stung him more than a longer, more -explanatory one could have done. - -"So be it," he said again, "so be it." Then he bade his man come and -dress him anew, and afterwards call a hackney coach. And on entering -the latter when ready, he ordered the driver to convey him first to -the Duke of Newcastle's (the Secretary of State), and later to Lady -Belrose's in Hanover-square. - -"For, to commence," he muttered, as he drove off, "I must square his -grace, and then have one final interview with my dearly beloved -Katherine. Newcastle has the reputation of being the biggest fool -in England--he should not be difficult to deal with; while as to -her--well, she is no fool but yet she shall find her master." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. - - -Fortune had, indeed, stood the friend of those three denounced men, -otherwise they must by now have been lying--as Fordingbridge had -said--in one of the many prisons of London awaiting their trial; -trials which--in the case of two at least--would have preceded by a -short time only their executions and deaths; deaths made doubly -horrible by that which accompanied them, by the cutting out and -casting into the fire of the still beating hearts of the victims, the -disembowelling and quartering and mangling. - -Yet, if such was ever to be their fate--and they tempted such fate -terribly by their continued presence in London, or, indeed, in -England--it had not yet overtaken them; until now they were free. How -Douglas Sholto and Bertie Elphinston had escaped the snare you have -seen; how Archibald Sholto eluded those who sought him has now to be -told. - -Kate had no sooner departed in a chariot, sent for her by Lady -Belrose, to take a dish of tea in company with the other members of -the proposed party before going on to Vauxhall, than Mr. Archibald, -who had a large room at the top of the house, was apprised by the -servant that a Scotch gentleman awaited him in the garden.[4] On -desiring to be informed what the gentleman's name and errand were--for -those engaged as the Jesuit now was omitted no precautions for their -safety--a message was brought back that the visitor was an old friend -of Mr. Archibald's, whom he would recognise on descending to the -garden, and that his business was very pressing. Now Archibald was a -man of great forethought--necessity had made him such--and therefore, -ere he descended to the garden, he thought it well to take an -observation of this mysterious caller, who might be, as he said, a -friend or, on the other hand, a representative of the law endeavouring -to take advantage of him. - -The opportunity for this observation presented itself, however, -without any difficulty. On the backstairs of each flight in the houses -of Kensington-square there existed precisely what exists in the -present day in most houses, namely, windows half-way up each flight, -and, gazing out into the garden--up and down the gravel walks of which -the visitor was walking, sometimes stopping to inspect or to smell -some of the roses already in bloom, and sometimes casting glances of -impatience at the house--Archibald saw the man who, later on, was to -deliver Kate's message to Bertie. - -"Why!" he exclaimed to himself, "as I live 'tis James McGlowrie. -Honest Jemmy! Indeed, he can come on no evil intent to me or to those -dear to me. Yet--yet--I fear. Even though he means no harm he may be -the bearer of bad news," and so saying he passed down the stairs and -to the man awaiting him. - -"James," he said, addressing the other in their native brogue, "this -is a sight for sair een. Yet," he went on, "what brings you here? -First, how did you know I dwelt here, and next, what brings -you?--though right glad I am to see you once again." - -"I have a wee bit message for ye, Archibald," said the other, shaking -him warmly by the hand, "that it behoves you vary weel to hear. And," -dropping at once into the verbosity that was to so tease, while at the -same time it amused, Elphinston some hours later, "not only to hear, -but, so to speak, as it were, to ponder on, yet also to decide quickly -over and thereby to arrive at a good determination. D'ye take, -Archibald Sh----, I mean, so to speak, Mr. Archibald?" - -"Why, no," said the other, with a faint smile, "I cannot in truth say -that I do. James McGlowrie, you can speak to the point when you -choose. Choose to do so now, I beg you." - -"To the point is very well. And so I will speak. Now, Archie, old -friend, listen. Ye ken and weel remember, I doubt not, Geordie McNab, -erstwhile of Edinburgh." - -"Indeed I do." - -"So--so. Vary weel. Now Geordie McNab is come south and has gotten -himself into the Scotch Secretary of State's office, for Geordie is no -Jacobite!--and there he draws £200 a year sterling--not Scotch. Oh, -no. Geordie is now vary weel to do, and what with the little estate -his poor auld mother left him, which, so to speak, yields him thirty -bolls and firlots of barley, some peats at twopence per load, and many -pecks of mustard seed at a shilling, and----" - -"Jemmy, Jemmy," said the other, reproachfully, "was this the important -errand you came here upon?" - -"Nay, nay. My tongue runs away with me as ever. Yet, listen still. -Geordie is no Jacobite, yet, i'faith, there's a many he's overweel -disposed to, among others an old schoolfellow o' his, one Archibald." - -"One Archibald! Ha! I take you. And, Jemmy, is he threatened; has he -aught to fear from the Scotch Secretary's office?" - -"The warst that can befall. Ay, man, the very warst. So are also two -friends of his, late of--hem--a certain army that has of late made -excursions and alarums, as the bard hath it." - -"So! I understand! We have been informed against, blown upon. Alas! -alas! We were free but for this--our names not even upon the list." - -"Yet now," said McGlowrie, "are they there. Likewise also your -addresses and habitments--all are vary weel known. My laddie, ye must -flee out o' the land and awa' back to France, and go ye must at once. -There's no time to be lost." - -"I cannot go without warning the others--without knowing they are -safe." Then, while a terribly stern look came into his face, he said, -"Who has done this thing, McGlowrie, who has done it?" - -"Can ye not vary weel guess? 'Tis not far to seek." - -"Ay," the Jesuit answered, "it needs no question. Oh! Simeon Larpent, -Simeon Larpent, if ever I have you to my hand again, beware. Oh! to -have you but for one hour in Paris and with the Holy Church to avenge -me, a priest, against you!" Then changing this tone to another more -suitable, perhaps, to the occasion and the danger in which he stood, -he asked: - -"What do they mean to do? When will they proceed to the work, think -you?" - -"At once; to-night, perhaps; to-morrow for certain. Go, Archie, go, -pack up your duds and flee, I say. Even now the Government may have -put the officers upon your hiding-place; have told the soldiers at -Kensington to surround the house. Lose no time." - -"But the boys--the boys at Wandsworth. What of them?" - -"They shall be warned, even though I do it myself. But now, Archie, up -to your room, bring with you--in a small compass, so to speak--your -necessaries, and come with me." - -"But where to? Where to?" - -"Hech! with me. I have a bit lodgment, as you will know vary weel -soon, in the Minories; 'tis near there poor Lady Balmerino -lodges--though they promise her that after her lord is condemned, as -he must be--as he must be!--she shall be lodged with him in the Tower -to the last; come with me, I say. For the love o' God, Archie, -hesitate no longer." - -Then indeed, Archibald Sholto knew that, if he would save himself and -help the others, and--as he hoped--wreak his vengeance on the -treacherous adder that had stung them, he must follow honest James -McGlowrie's counsel. So, very swiftly he passed up to his room, -collected every paper he possessed, and carried away with him a small -valise, in which were a change of clothes, several bank bills and a -bag of guineas, Louis d'ors, and gold crowns. Then he returned to the -garden where McGlowrie was still walking up and down as before, and -announced that he was ready to follow him. - -"Only," he said, "we will go as quietly as may be, and without a word. -I will not even tell the servants I am going, Heaven knows if they are -not spies themselves. I will just vanish away, and, as I hope, leave -no trace. Come, Jemmy, there is a door behind the herb-garden that -gives into the lane, and the lane itself leads to the West-road. If we -can cross that in safety we can pass by Lord Holland's--he is -Secretary of War now, and of the Privy Council--yet that matters not -to us; behind his leafy woods we shall come to the other road. Then -for a hackney or a passing coach to the city. Only, the boys, Jemmy, -the boys! What of them?" - -"Have no fear. If they are not warned already by Geordie McNab 'twill -surprise me very much, and once I have seen ye off to the Minories -I'll be away to Wandsworth myself. Thereby I'll make sure. Come, -Archie, come. The evening draws in. Come, mon." - -"I will. Only, Jemmy, stick your honest nose outside the garden gate -and see that neither soldiers, spies, nor men of the law are there. If -it is as you say, the house may even now be surrounded." - -McGlowrie did as the other requested, going out and sauntering up and -down the lane, but seeing no signs of anyone about who might threaten -danger. To a maid-servant, drawing water from a well which served for -many of the gardens of the houses, he gave in his pleasant Scotch way -the "good e'en," and remarked that "the flowers were thirsty these -warm May nights, and required, so to speak as it were, a draught to -refresh 'em "; and to a boy birdnesting up tree he observed that it -was a cruel sport which would wring a poor mither's heart, even as his -own mither's would full surely be wrung should he be torn away from -her grasp, even as he was tearing the young from the nest. But, all -the time he was delivering these apothegms, his eye was glancing up -and down the lane, and searching for any sign of danger. And, seeing -none, he went back to Archibald Sholto and bade him follow since all -was clear. - -"And now," said he, as they passed to the left of Holland House and so -reached Kensington Gravel Pits, "let us form our plans. First, there -are the two young men, who must of a surety have been warned by -Geordie, yet, supposing he should have failed, must yet be warned, so -to speak. Now, shall I get me away----" - -"Alas!" said Sholto, "I have just recalled to mind that, if they are -not already on their guard, 'tis now too late. They were to go to the -masquerade at Vauxhall; are there by now. 'Tis certain. One of them -had an appointment with--with the wife of the double-dyed scoundrel -who owns the house we have but just now quitted." - -"Hoot! Ma conscience! With his enemy's wife. Vary good! Vary good! -Perhaps 'tis not so strange the man is his enemy. Weel, weel, 'tis no -affair of mine, yet I like not this trafficking wi' other men's goods. -But since they are away on this quest they need no warning. Now for -yourself, Archie. Get you away to the Minories--here is the precise -address," and he slipped a piece of paper into his hand, "go there, -lie perdu, and await my return." - -"But Kate! Lady Fordingbridge! I must let her know of my absence; what -will she think when she returns home and finds me gone? And the -others--they may be taken when they also return to their homes." - -"Leave't to me. I will await my lady's return from these worldly -doings--ma word! a married woman and meeting other men in such sinfu' -places!--even though she comes not till the break o' day--as is very -likely, I fear, under the circumstances! And, meanwhile, for the -others we must trust to Geordie." - -"No," said Archibald Sholto, "we will not trust to Geordie, true as I -believe him to be. This is the best plan. If you will wait--as I know -you will--until her ladyship returns, though it will not be for some -hours yet, I apprehend, I will make my way to Wandsworth, find out if -they are warned, and, if not, will myself wait their return. Then I -will accept your shelter in the Minories for a time until we can all -three get safe back to France. For France is now our only refuge -again, as it has so often and so long been before." - -"Humph!" said McGlowrie, "perhaps so 'tis best. None know you at -Wandsworth?" - -"None. No living soul except the woman of the house--a true one. Her -father fell in the Cause in the '15' at Sherriffmuir. She is safe." - -"So be it. Then away with you to yon village, and trust me to manage -things in this one. Now, off wi' you, Archie, but first make some -change in your clothing." - -"But how? I have no other clothes but those I wear." - -"Hoot! a small changement is easy, and sometimes, so to speak as it -were, effectual. Off with that hat and wig." And as he spoke he took -off each of his. - -"You will lose by the exchange, Jemmy," said Archibald. "Mine is but a -rusty bob and a poor hat; both yours are very good." - -"No matter. To-morrow at the lodgment we will change again." - -Therefore, with his appearance considerably altered, Archibald Sholto -prepared now to set out for Wandsworth. But ere he did so he said one -word to honest James McGlowrie. - -"Jemmy," he remarked, "make no mistake about Ka--Lady Fordingbridge -and this meeting with Bertie Elphinston to which she has gone. She is -as good and pure a woman as ever lived and suffered. I have known her -from a child, gave her her first communion; there is no speck of ill -in her." - -"Lived and suffered, eh?" repeated the other. - -"Ay, lived and suffered! The man she has gone to meet was to have been -her husband; they loved each other with all their hearts and souls; -and by foul treachery she was stolen from him by that most -unparalleled scoundrel, Fordingbridge. Remember that, Jemmy, when you -see her to-night; remember she is as pure a woman as your mother was, -and respect her for all that she has endured." - -"Have no fear," said Jemmy, manfully, "have no fear. Although ye are a -Papist, Archie, and a priest at that, I'll e'en take your word for -it." - -So, with a light laugh from the Jesuit at the rigid and plain-spoken -Presbyterianism of his old schoolfellow and whilom fag, they parted -with a grasp of the hand, each to what he had to do. That James -McGlowrie carried out his portion of the undertaking has been already -told, as well as how, after the information he gave Lady -Fordingbridge, she decided to accept Lady Belrose's offer of her house -as a refuge, if only temporarily; and how he afterwards became a -messenger from her to Bertie Elphinston. - -As for Archibald Sholto, he, too, did that which he had said would be -best. He made his way from Kensington to Chelsea and so to Wandsworth, -only to find when he had arrived there that his brother and friend had -long since--for it was by then nine o'clock--departed for Vauxhall. -Therefore he said a few words to the landlady--herself an adherent of -the Stuarts, as she, whose father had fallen at Sherriffmuir, was -certain to be--telling her that it was doubtful if they would ever -return to their lodgings, but that, if they did, she must manage to -send them off at once. He told her, too, the address of the Minories -where he could be communicated with, under cover to McGlowrie, and, -since he it was who had sent them as lodgers to her house, he gave her -some money on their account. Then he left her and, thorough and -indomitable in all he did, made his way to the Spring Gardens. - -"If they are there," he thought, as he waited outside the inn in -Wandsworth--an old one, known then, as now, as the Spread Eagle, while -the horse was being put into the shafts of the hackney coach he had -hired, "I may see them in time to warn them. Dressed as the -executioner, the woman said of Bertie and Douglas, without any -disguise, though in a garb that will be supposed to be one in that -place; there should be no difficulty in finding them if they are still -there. Thank God, they were not caught in their lodgings." - -He did not know, nor could the landlady have told him--not knowing -herself--of how they had been watched and followed from the village to -Vauxhall; so he passed his time on the lonely drive through the -Battersea marshes in meditating how this last act of treachery of Lord -Fordingbridge was to be repaid. For that it should be so repaid, and -with interest, Archibald Sholto had already determined. "Though not -for his baseness to me so much," he muttered, "as to those whom I -love. For since to me, a priest, there can be no home, no wife, no -children, I have centred all my heart upon those three--my brother, -our friend Bertie, and poor, bonnie Kate. And those it is against whom -he has struck. May God forget me if I strike not equally, ay! and with -more certainty than he has done, when my hour comes." - -A good friend was Archibald Sholto, Jesuit though he was, but a -terrible foe. As you shall see. - -On his way to the garden he passed half a dozen young men of fashion -who, from their talk and actions, he knew to be about to assist at a -duel, and, forgetting that he was in secular garb, he could not -forbear from addressing them in his priestly character and begging -them to desist from the sin they contemplated. But they bade him pass -on and not interfere in what concerned him not, while one, striking at -the horse with his clouded cane, caused the animal to dash off upon -the uneven road or track. These, doubtless, were the men for whom the -boatmen who ferried Bertie and Douglas across later on were waiting. - -So he reached the gardens, but only to find that most of the company -was already gone, and that, with the exception of a few revellers who -would keep the night up so long as it were possible, none of the -masqueraders remained. Yet, even from these he gathered enough to set -his mind fairly at rest; for, happening to hear one of them speak of -the "merry disturbance" which had taken place that night, and also -boast somewhat loudly of how he had assisted the Jacobites in -resisting the limbs of the law, he, by great suavity and apparent -admiration of the speaker's prowess, managed to extract from him a -more or less accurate account of what had taken place. - -Thus he learned that, in some way, his brother and friend had made -their escape--aided, of course, by the pot-valiant hero to whom he was -listening--and also that the "ladies of fashion" and the gentlemen by -whom they were accompanied had also departed without molestation. -"Though," continued the narrator, as he swallowed the last drop of -brandy in his glass and then looked ruefully at the empty vessel, "I -know not if they would have been allowed to go so freely had not I and -my friend assisted in protecting them." - -After that Archibald withdrew, and, on foot, made his way to the City, -while as he crossed London Bridge nearly two hours later--for he was -weary with all that had happened that day--the sun came up and lighted -with a rosy hue the Tower lying on his right hand. - -"Ay," he muttered. "Ay, many's the poor aching heart within your -walls this morning besides the doomed Balmerino, Cromartie, and -Kilmarnock--for nought can save them; thank God that some at least are -free at present. But how long will they be so? How long? How long?" - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -HEY! FOR FRANCE. - - -During the time which elapsed between the eventful proceedings of that -day and the time when my Lord Fordingbridge--agitated by receiving no -news in Cheshire from his wife--returned to London, all those whom -this history has principally to deal with met together with -considerable frequency. - -For, whether the clue was lost to the whereabouts of Elphinston and -the Sholtos, or whether the Government was growing sick of the -wholesale butchery of Jacobites which was going on in Scotland and -England--though it would scarce seem so, since two of the lords in the -Tower and some score of other victims were yet to be executed and -their remains to be brutally used--at least those three friends were -still at large. Archibald Sholto was in hiding at James McGlowrie's -lodgings in the Minories, in the neighbourhood of which that honest -gentleman was much engaged in the grain and cattle trade between -London and Scotland and also Holland and France. Farther east still -was Bertie Elphinston, he being close to the spot where the unhappy -Lady Balmerino, his kinswoman, was lodged; while in the West End, or -rather the west of London, at the Kensington Gravel Pits, and under -the roof of no less a person than Sir Charles Ames, Douglas had found -a home and hiding place. - -As for Kate and her father, they were in Hanover-square, the guests of -Lady Belrose, and were to remain as such until the former had had an -interview with Fordingbridge. "For," said Kate to her friend who, -although a comparatively new one, was proving herself to be very -staunch, "then I shall know, then I shall be able to decide; though -even now my decision is taken, my mind made up. Who can doubt that it -is he who has done this? He and no other. No other!" - -"Indeed, dear," replied her hostess, as she bade her black boy--a -present from her devoted admirer, Sir Charles--go get the urn filled, -for they were drinking tea after dinner, "indeed, dear, no one, I -think, from all that you have told me. Yet if you leave him, what is -to become of you and Mr. Fane? You have, you say--pardon me for even -referring to such a thing--no very good means of subsistence. I," went -on her ladyship, speaking emphatically, "should at least take my -settlement. I would not, positively I would not, allow the wretch to -benefit by keeping that. No, indeed!" - -"If," replied Kate, "'tis as I fear--nay, as I know it is, I will not -touch one farthing of his. Not one farthing. I will go forth, and he -Shall be as though I had never seen or spoken to him." - -"But," asked the more practical woman of the world, "what will you do, -dear? You cannot live on air, and--which is almost worse--you cannot -marry someone who will give you a good home. And you so pretty, too!" -she added. - -"Marry again!" exclaimed Kate, her eyes glistening as she spoke. -"Heaven forbid! Have I not had enough of marriage? One experience -should suffice, I think." - -"It has indeed been a sad one," answered Lady Belrose, who had herself -no intention of continuing her widowhood much longer, and was indeed -at that moment privately affianced to Sir Charles Ames. "But, Kate, if -your monster were dead you might be happy yet." - -"No, no," the other replied, "never. And he is not dead, nor like to -die. I am, indeed, far more likely to die than he--since the doctors -all say I am far from strong, though I do not perceive it." - -"But what will you do?" again asked the practical hostess. "How live? -Mr. Fane has, you say, no longer sufficient youth or activity to earn -a living for you at the fence school--can you, dear, earn enough for -both?" - -"I think so," Kate replied, "by returning to Paris. That we must -do--there is nothing to be earned here. But, in Paris, Archibald -Sholto has much influence in the court circles; he knows even the King -and--and--the new favourite, La Pompadour, who has deposed Madame de -Chateauroux. Also he is a friend of Cardinal Tencin, who owes much to -the exiled Stuarts. It is, he thinks, certain that some place either -at the court, or in the prince's household--if he has escaped from -Scotland, which God grant!--or in the Chevalier St. George's, at Rome, -might be found for me--a place which would enable me to keep my old -father from want for the rest of his life." - -"Kate, you are a brave woman, and a good one, too, for from what you -have told me your father himself has behaved none too well to you, -and----" - -"I must forget that," the other replied, "and remember only how for -years he struggled hard to keep a home for us, to bring me up as a -lady. I must put away every thought of his one wrong to me and -remember only all that he has done for my good." - -Meanwhile Kate's determination to part from her husband--if, as no one -doubted, he it was who had endeavoured to betray the others to the -Government--was well known to her three friends; and therefore, with -them as with her and her father, preparations were being hurried on by -which they also might return to France. For them there was, as there -had been before the invasion of Scotland and England, the means -whereby to exist; Douglas and Bertie had not sacrificed their -commissions in the French regiments to which they belonged, and -Archibald was employed by the Stuart cause as an agent, was also a -member of the College of St. Omer, and was a priest of St. Eustache. -That Bertie Elphinston would ever have left London while his kinsman -and the head of his house, Arthur, Lord Balmerino, lay in the Tower -awaiting his trial and certain death was not to be supposed, had not a -message come from that unhappy nobleman ordering him to go. Also, he -bade him waste no time in remaining where he was hourly in danger and -could, at the same time, be of no earthly good. - -"He bids me tell you, Bertie," said Lady Balmerino, in a meeting which -she contrived to have with the young man on one of those evenings when -both were lodged in the Eastend, and while she wept piteously as she -spoke, "he bids me tell you that it is his last commandment to you, as -still the head of your house and the name you bear, to flee from -England. The rank and title of Balmerino must die with him, but he -lays upon you the task of bearing and, he hopes, perpetuating the name -of Elphinston honourably. Also he sends you his blessing as from a -dying old man to a young one, bids you trust in God and also serve the -House of Stuart while there is any member of it left. And if more be -needed to make you fly, he orders you to do it for your mother's -sake." - -After that Elphinston knew where his duty lay--knew that he must -return to France. It was hard, he swore, to leave England and also, -thereby, to leave the scoundrel Fordingbridge behind and alive, still -he felt that it must be so. Fordingbridge merited death--yet he must -escape it! - -But he had one consolation, too. Ere long Kate would be -back in Paris--it was not possible that her husband could be -innocent--therefore he would sometimes see her. A poor consolation, -indeed, he told himself, to simply be able to see the woman who was to -have been his wife yet was now another man's--no power on earth, no -determination on her part to sever her existence from Fordingbridge -could alter that!--yet it was something. Consequently, he with the -others set about the plans for their departure. - -Now, to so arrange and manage for this departure, they looked to James -McGlowrie, who had both the will and the power to help them. - -An old acquaintance of his in Scotland, when both were boys who had -not then gone forth into the world, McGlowrie had kept up an -occasional correspondence with Archibald Sholto until the present -time, and thereby had been able to afford him assistance and had -proved himself invaluable when Fordingbridge informed against them. -Indeed, had McGlowrie not known where Archibald Sholto was living when -in London, Geordie McNab's information derived from the Scotch -Secretary's Office could never have been utilized, and Archibald -Sholto must at least have been taken. And now he was to be even more -practically useful than before--it was in his cattle-trading boats -that all were, one by one, to be conveyed to the continent. "Though," -said Jemmy, as he arranged plans with them one night in a little inn -at Limehouse where they were in the habit of meeting, and where there -was little danger of their being discovered, "I can give none of ye -any certain guarantee, so to speak as it were, of ye getting over in -safety. Infernal sloops o' war and bomb-ketches, and the devil knows -what else, are prowling about the waters looking for rebels, and as -like as not may light upon the one or other of you." - -"We must risk that," said Bertie. "Great heavens! what have we not -risked far worse?" - -"Vary weel," replied McGlowrie; "then let one of you begin the risk -to-morrow night. And you it had best be, Mr. Elphinston. My little -barky drops down the river then, and once you're round the North -Foreland you will be safe, or nearly so, to reach Calais. Be ready by -seven to-morrow night." - -"Why do you select me to go first, Mr. McGlowrie? I have quite as -many, if not more, interests in England than either Douglas or -Archie." - -"Um!" muttered honest Jemmy, who did not care to say that he thought a -man who was philandering about after a married woman was best got out -of the way as soon as possible, though such was, indeed, his opinion, -he being a strict moralist. "Um! I thought the noble lord had laid his -commands on ye to be off and awa' at anst. The head of the family must -be obeyed." - -"Also," said Archibald Sholto, "you have your mother to think of. We -have no mother. Bertie, you had best go to-morrow night." - -"And you have seen Kate," whispered gentle Douglas Sholto, who took, -perhaps, a more romantic view of things--for he had known of their -love from the first and, from almost envying them at its commencement, -had now come to pity them, "have made your farewells. If you get safe -to France you must of a surety meet again--for Fordingbridge is a -villain, and she will keep her word and part from him--is it not best -you go at once?" - -"You and I have always gone together, Douglas, hand in hand in all -things," his friend replied; "I like not parting from you now." - -"Still let it be so, I beg you. Remember, once we are back in Paris -all will be as happy as it has been before, or nearly so, and there -will be no Fordingbridge there. He, at least, will not be by us to set -the blood tingling in our veins with the desire to slay him." - -"So be it," said Bertie, "I will go." - -This being therefore decided, McGlowrie gave his counsel as to what -was to be done. The "little barky" of which he had spoken was in the -habit of taking over to Calais good black cattle in exchange for -French wines (what did it matter if sometimes the bottles were stuffed -full of lace instead of Bordeaux?), silks, and ribbons, and it was as -a drover he proposed Elphinston should go. The duties would be -nothing, and the assumption of them would be a sufficient explanation -of his being on board. - -"And then," said he, "when once you set your foot on Calais sands you -can again become Captain Elphinston of the regiment of Picardy, and -defy King Geo--hoot! what treason am I talking?" - -It was the truth that he had seen Kate again since the night of the -conflict at Vauxhall, and then, stung to madness by the renewed -villainy and treachery of her husband, he had pleaded to her to let -him seek out Fordingbridge and slay him with his own hands. But, -bitterly as she despised and hated the man who had brought them such -grief and sorrow, she refused to even listen to so much as a -suggestion of his doing this. - -"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, shuddering at the very idea of such a -tragedy. "No, no. What benefit would it be to you or to me to have the -stain of his blood on our hands?" - -"It would remove for ever the obstacle between us," he said; "would -set you free; would place us where we were before." - -"Never, never," she replied. "I have been his wife--though such by -fraud and trickery--and if he were dead, God knows I could not mourn -him; yet I will not be his murderess, his executioner, as I shall be -if I let you slay him. If he fell by your hand, I could never look -upon your face again. Moreover, even were I hardened enough to do -so--which I am not--do you not know that the French law permits no man -to become the husband of a woman whose first husband he has slain? We -should be as far apart then as ever--nay, farther, with his death -between us always." - -"I know, I know," he said, recognising, however, as he did so that -there was no possibility of his taking vengeance on Fordingbridge, -since by doing so he would thus place such a barrier between them. -"Yet there are other lands where one may live besides France and -England. There is Sweden, where every soldier is welcome; there -is----" - -"Cease, I beseech you, cease! It can never be. If in God's good time -He sees fit to punish him, he will do so. If not, I must bear the lot -that has fallen to me. Meanwhile be assured that once I find he has -done this act of treachery, I shall never return to him." - -"And we shall meet in Paris--that is, if ever I can get back there?" - -"Yes," she answered. "We shall meet in Paris; for it is there I must -go. There, at least, I must find a means of existence; though, since -now we understand, since we have forgiven each other--is it not -so?--'twould perhaps be best that we should not meet again." - -"No, no," he protested. "No, no. For even though this snake has -crept in between us--so that never more can we be to each other -what--what--my God!--what we once were; so that there must be no love, -no passing of our days, our lives, together side by side--yet, Kate, -we can at least know that the other is well if not happy; we can meet -sometimes. Can we not? answer me." - -"Oh, go!" she exclaimed, breaking down at his words and weeping -piteously, as she sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. -"Go! In mercy, go! I cannot bear your words; they break my heart. -Leave me, I beseech you!" - -So--because he, too, could bear the interview no longer, and could not -endure to see her misery--he left her, taking her hand and kissing it -ere he departed, and whispering in her ear that soon they would meet -again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -MAN AND WIFE. - - -The hackney coach drew up at Lady Belrose's house in Hanover-square a -couple of hours after it had left Kensington-square, and Lord -Fordingbridge, descending from it, rang a loud peal upon the bell. - -For some reason--the whereof was perhaps not known to him, or could -not have been explained by even his peculiarly constituted mind--he -had attired himself for the two interviews with great care. His black -velvet suit, trimmed with silver lace--for he wore mourning for the -late viscount--was of the richest; his thick hair was now confined -beneath a handsome tye-wig, and his ruffles and breast lace were the -finest in his possession. Yet he, knowing himself to be the -unutterable scoundrel he was, could scarcely suppose that this -sumptuousness of attire was likely to have much effect upon the woman -who had deserted him for a cause which he had not the slightest -difficulty in imagining. Perhaps, however, it was assumed for the -benefit of the Duke of Newcastle, with whom he had had a satisfactory -interview. - -"Lady Fordingbridge is living here," he said quietly, but with a -sternness he considered fitting to the occasion, to the grave elderly -man who opened the door to him--a man whose appearance, Lady Belrose -frequently observed, would have added respectability to the household -of a bishop--"show me to her." - -The footman looked inquiringly at him for a moment; he was not -accustomed to such imperious orders from any of her ladyship's -visitors, however handsome an appearance they might present. Then he -said: - -"Lady Belrose lives here. Lady Fordingbridge is her guest. And if you -wish to see her, sir, I must know whose name to announce." - -"I am her husband, Lord Fordingbridge. Be good enough to announce -that, and at once." - -The staid manservant gave him a swift glance--it was not to be -doubted that many a gossip had been held below stairs as to the reason -why Lady Fordingbridge had quitted and caused to be shut up her own -house, only to come and dwell at his mistress's--then he invited his -lordship to follow him into the morning room on the right of the door. - -"I will tell her ladyship," he said, and so left him. - -When he was alone, Lord Fordingbridge, after a hasty glance round -the room, and a sneer at the portraits of a vast number of simpering -young men which hung on the walls--her admirers, he considered, no -doubt--took a seat upon the couch and pondered over the coming -interview with his wife. - -"It is time," he thought, "that things should draw to a conclusion. -For," he said, as though addressing Kate herself, "I have had enough -of you, my lady. You have long ceased to be a wife to me--never were -one, indeed, but for a month, and then but a very indifferent spouse, -a cold-hearted, cold-blooded jade; now it is time you should cease to -be so much in even name. So, so. You shall be stripped of your -borrowed plumage; we will see then how you like the position of -affairs. I myself am heartily sick of them." - -He had no premonition of what Kate might be about to say to him when -she should enter the room in which he now sat; yet he had a very -strong suspicion that her remarks would consist of accusations against -him of having betrayed the Sholtos and Elphinston. - -"Well, well," he said,-"let her accuse. I have the last card. It is a -strong one. It should win the trick." - -Yet at the same time, strong as any card might be which he held in his -hand, he would have given a good deal to have known where at the -present moment those three men might be harbouring whom he had -endeavoured so strongly to give to the hangman's hands. And once, as a -sudden thought came to his mind--a thought that almost made the -perspiration burst out upon him--a thought that they might all be in -this very house and appear suddenly to take vengeance on him for his -treachery!--he nearly rose from his seat as though to fly while there -was yet time. But, coward though he was, both physically and morally, -he had strength to master his impulse, and, in spite of his fears that -at any moment Elphinston, whom he had wronged the worst of all, might -enter the room, to remain seated where he was. - -Still his eyes sought ever the hands of the clock as moment after -moment went by and his wife failed to come, until at last he was -wrought to so high a pitch of nervousness that he started at any sound -inside and outside of the house. A man bawling the news in the street -or blowing the horn, which at that time the newsboys carried to -proclaim their approach, set his nerves and fibres tingling; the -laughter of some of the domestics in the kitchens below him had an -equally jarring effect, and when aloud knock came at the street door -he quivered as though the avenging Elphinston was indeed there. Then, -at last, the door opened suddenly, and his wife stood before him. - -He saw in one swift glance that she was very pale--she, whose -complexion had once been as the rose-blush--and this he could -understand. It was not strange she should be so. What he could not -understand was the habit in which she appeared, the manner in which -she was attired. Ever since she had become his wife he had caused her -to be arrayed in the richest, most costly dresses he could afford; had -desired, nay, had commanded, that in all outward things she should -carry out the character of Lady Fordingbridge; that her gowns, her -laces, her wigs, should all be suitable to his position. - -Yet now she appeared shorn of all those adornments which his common, -pitiful mind regarded as part and parcel of his dignity. The dress she -wore was a simple black one, made of a material which the humblest -lady in the land might have had on, without lace or trimmings or any -adornment whatsoever. Also on her head there was no towering wig, nor -powder, nor false curls; instead, her own sweet golden hair was neatly -brushed back into a great knot behind. Nor on her hands, nor on her -neck, was any jewellery, save only the one ring which, from the day he -had put it on her finger, she had ever regarded as a badge of slavery. - -"Madam," he said, rising and advancing towards her, while as he did so -she retreated back towards the door, "Madam, I have come here to -desire an explanation from you as to why I find you gone from my house -and living under the shelter of another person's roof. And also, I -have to ask," he continued, letting his eye fall upon the plainness of -her attire, "why you present yourself before me in such a garb as you -now wear? I must crave an immediate answer, madam." - -"I am here to give it," she replied. "And since I do not doubt that it -is the last time you and I will ever exchange words again in the -world, that answer shall be full and complete. But, first, do you -answer me this, Lord Fordingbridge. Was it by your craft that Mr. -Elphinston and Douglas and Archibald Sholto were denounced?" - -She spoke very calmly; in her voice there was no tremor; also he could -see that her hands, in one of which she held a small packet, did not -quiver. - -"Madam," he replied, endeavouring to also assume a similar calmness, -but not succeeding particularly well, while at the same time one of -those strong waves of passion rose in his breast which he had hitherto -always mastered when engaged in discussion with her, "madam, by what -right do you ask me such a question as this? What does it concern you -if I choose to denounce Jacobite plotters to the Government? Nothing! -And again I ask why you have left my roof for that of the worldling -with whom you have taken refuge, and why you appear before me in a -garb more befitting a mercer's apprentice than my wife?" - -"Your equivocation condemns you. Simeon Larpent, it was you who played -the spy, you who were the denouncer of those three men. I knew that -there could be no doubt on that score." - -"And again I say, what if I did? What then? What does it concern you? -What have you to do with it?" - -"I have this to do," she replied; "but that which is to be done shall -be done before witnesses," and stepping to the bell rope, she pulled -it strongly, so that the peal rang through the house. - -"Witnesses!" he exclaimed. "Witnesses! None are required. Yet, be -careful; I warn you ere it is too late. If you summon witnesses to -this interview, they may chance to hear that which, to prevent their -hearing, you would rather have died. Be careful what you do, madam." - -As he finished, the footman opened the door, and, without hesitating -one moment, she said to the man: - -"Ask the two gentlemen to step this way." - -"Two gentlemen!" he repeated; "two gentlemen! So, this is a trap! Who -are the two gentlemen, pray?" and as he spoke he drew his sword. "If, -as I suspect, they are the two bullies--your lover, whom you meet at -masquerades, whom you give assignations to, and his friend--they shall -at least find that I can defend myself." - -In truth, bold as he seemed, he was now in great fear. He expected -nothing else but that, when the door again opened, Sholto and -Elphinston would appear before him, and he began to quake and to think -his last hour was come. His treachery was, he feared, soon to be -repaid. - -She made no answer to his vile taunt about her lover, nor did she take -any heed of the drawn sword that shook in his hand; had she been a -statue she could not have stood more still as she regarded him with -contempt and scorn. - -Then the door did open, and Sir Charles Ames and Douglas Sholto -entered the room. The first he did not know; had, indeed, never seen -him before; but at the sight of the other he grasped his weapon more -firmly, expecting that ere another moment had passed the hands of the -young Highlander would be at his throat, and that he would have to -defend his life against him. To his intense surprise Sholto treated -him with as much indifference as if he too had been a statue; after -one glance--which, if disdain could have the power to slay, would have -withered him as he stood--he took no further heed of him. As for Sir -Charles Ames, he, observing the drawn weapon in the other's hand, -smiled contemptuously, shrugged his shoulders, and then took his place -behind Lady Fordingbridge and by the side of Douglas. - -"Sir Charles and you, Douglas," she said, "forgive me for asking you -to be present at this interview, yet I do so because I desire that in -after days there shall be one or two men, at least, to testify to that -which I now do." Then, turning towards her husband, who still stood -where he had risen on her entrance, she said: - -"Simeon Larpent, since first I met you--to my eternal -unhappiness--your life has been one long lie, one base deceit. The -first proposals ever made to me by you were degrading to an honest -woman, were infamy to listen to. Next, you obtained me for your wife -by more lies, by more duplicity, by more deceit. Also, from the time I -have been your wife, you, yourself a follower of the unhappy house of -Stuart by birth and bringing up, have endeavoured in every way to -encompass the death of three followers of the same cause, because one -of those men was to have been my husband had not you foully wronged -him to me; because the other two were his and my friends." - -She paused a moment as though to gather fresh energy for her -denunciation of him; and he, craven as he was, stood there before her, -white to the very lips, and with his eyes wandering from one to the -other of the two listeners. Then she continued: - -"For all this, Simeon Larpent, but especially for that which you have -last done, for this your last piece of cruel, wicked treachery, for -this your last bitter, tigerish endeavour to destroy three men who had -otherwise been safe, I renounce and deny you for ever." - -All started as she uttered these words, but without heeding them she -continued: - -"For ever. I disavow you, I forswear you as my husband. I have long -ceased to be aught to you but a wife in name; henceforth I will not be -so much as that. I have quitted your house. I quit now and part with -for so long as I shall live your name, the share in the rank that you -smirch and befoul. From to-day I will never willingly set eyes on you -again, never speak one word to you, though you lay dying at my feet, -never answer to the name of Fordingbridge. I return to what I was; I -become once more Katherine Fane." - -He, standing before her, moistened his lips as though about to speak, -but again she went on, taking now from off her finger the one ring -that alone she wore. Placing it on the table, she continued: - -"Thus I discard you, thus I sever to all eternity the bond that binds -me to you; a bond that no priest, no Church, shall ever persuade or -force me into again recognising." And with these words she placed also -on the table the package she had brought into the room with her. - -"There," she said, "is every trinket you have given me, except the -jewellery of your family, which you have possession of. At your own -house is every dress and robe, every garment I own that has been -bought with your money. So the severance is made. Again I say that I -renounce you and deny you. From to-day, Lord Fordingbridge, your -existence ceases for me." - -It seemed that she had spoken her last word. With an inclination of -her head towards those two witnesses whom she had summoned to hear her -denunciation, she moved towards the door, while they, after casting -one glance at him, the Denounced, standing there--Sir Charles Ames, -conveying in his looks all the ineffable disdain which a polished -gentleman of the world might be supposed to feel towards another who -had fallen so low, and Douglas regarding him as a man regards some -savage, ignoble beast--prepared to follow her. - -Then, at last, he found his voice--a harsh and raucous one, as though -emotion, or hate, or rage were stifling its natural tones--and -exclaimed ere they could quit the room: - -"Stay. The last word is not yet said. You, Katherine Fane, as you -elect, wisely, to call yourself henceforth, and you, her witnesses, -listen to what I have now to say. This parley, this conference, call -it what you will, may justly be completed." - -She paused and looked at him--disdainfully, and careless as to what he -might have to say in this her final interview with him--and they, -doing as she did, paused also. - -Then he continued, still speaking hoarsely but clearly enough: - -"You have said, madam, that you renounce and deny me for ever; that -you are resolved never more to share my rank or title, nor again to -bear my name. Are you so certain that 'tis yours to so refuse or so -renounce at your good will and pleasure?" - -"What, sir, do you mean by such questions?" asked Sir Charles Ames, -speaking now for the first time. But Lord Fordingbridge, heeding him -not, continued to address her, and now, as he spoke, he raised his -hand and pointed his finger at her. - -"You have been very scornful, very cold and disdainful since first we -came together, madam, treating me ever to your most bitter dislike, -while all the time every thought and idea of yours was given to -another man--all the time, I say, while you continued to bear the -title of the Viscountess Fordingbridge. Once more, I ask, are you so -sure that this title was yours to fling away, the husband yours to -renounce and deny in your own good pleasure?" - -And his eyes glared at her now as he spoke, and she knew that the -devil which dwelt in him had got possession. - -"Be more explicit," she said, "or cease to speak at all. If I could -think, if I could awake as from an evil dream and learn that I had -never been your wife, never plighted troth with you, I would upon my -knees thank God for such a mercy." - -"Those thanks may be more due than you dream of. How if I were to tell -you----?" - -"What?" fell from the lips of all, while Douglas took a step nearer to -him, and Sir Charles felt sure that in another moment they would be -told of some earlier marriage. "What?" - -For answer he went on, one finger raised and pointing at her as though -to emphasize his remarks: - -"You have taunted me often with the Jesuit education I received at St. -Omer--at Lisbon. Well, it was true: such an education I did receive at -both places. Only, madam--my Lady Fordingbridge!--Miss Fane!--have you -never heard that one so educated may, at such places, receive other -things? may become acolytes, priests? What if _I_ became such? what -would you then be--a priest----?" - -"It is a lie!" she exclaimed, "and you know it." - -"Are you so sure? Can you prove--or, rather, _disprove_ it? Answer me -that--answer, if you are sure that you share my name and rank--have -power to renounce them." - -As he finished, Douglas sprang at him and, in spite of his drawn -sword, would have choked the life out of him on the spot had not Sir -Charles interceded, while at the same moment Kitty's voice was heard -bidding him desist. - -"Even so," she said, "true or untrue, it is best. The infamy, if -infamy there is, must be borne. At least, I am free. Free! Am -justified after these hints!" - -"Ay," Lord Fordingbridge said, "you may be free. To do what, however? -To fling yourself into your lover's arms to-night--only, where will -you find him? Newgate, the Tower, the New Gaol in Southwark are full -of such as he; 'tis there, Mistress Fane, that doubtless you must seek -him." - -"And 'tis there," said Douglas Sholto, an inspiration occurring -suddenly to his mind, "that you shall join him. The King has issued -orders for every Jesuit priest to be arrested who shall be found, or -denounced, in these dominions, and, Jacobite though I am, with my life -at stake, I will drag you there with my own hands ere you shall be -suffered to escape. You have proclaimed yourself, shown us the way; by -your own lips shall you be judged." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -FLIGHT. - - -That Douglas had spoken out of the fury of his heart and, -consequently, without thought, was, however, very apparent at once; -for when Kate had quitted the room, leaving Fordingbridge free from -the grasp of the former--since Douglas, a second after he had seized -him, flung him trembling and shivering on the couch--Sir Charles Ames -spoke and said, as he drew Sholto aside to where the other would not -hear them: - -"It would indeed serve the scoundrel right if he were treated as you -suggest. Only, unfortunately, it is not possible. First of all, I -believe this insinuation is a lie." - -"I am sure of it. If he had ever been admitted a priest my brother -must have known of it, and, in any circumstances, the truth can soon -be proved by him. A letter to the head of the Jesuit College at Lisbon -from another Jesuit such as Archibald is will prove his statement to -be false." - -"Yet even," said Sir Charles, "were he a Jesuit priest and so subject -to arrest and imprisonment in this country, you would stand in far too -much danger to bring it about. Also, he can tell too much, as he would -undoubtedly do if he was himself given up. Let us consider what is -best." - -"I," replied Douglas, speaking in an even lower whisper, so that the -villain could not possibly hear him, "go to-night, as you know. Archie -probably to-morrow, or the next night, and Bertie is already gone. -Surely it might somehow be done." - -"Impossible," replied Sir Charles, "impossible. Remember, we are in -Lady Belrose's house; we must bring no scandal upon her. No, that way -will not do." - -"What then?" asked Douglas. "What then? For I am determined that his -power of doing any harm shall be forever quenched now. We have him in -our hands, and we will hold him fast." - -As he spoke he glanced where the traitor sat glowering at them from -the sofa. He seemed now to be thoroughly cowed, thoroughly alarmed -also for his own safety, and his piercing black eyes scintillated and -twinkled more like the eyes of a hunted, timorous creature than those -of a man. Indeed, as Douglas looked at him, it seemed as though -Fordingbridge were really mad with terror. Yet, abject as he now was, -the other shuddered again, as he had more than once shuddered before -when speaking of or looking at the man. - -"We must get him away from this house," said Sir Charles. "I will have -no disturbance here. Come, let us take him to the park. There we can -talk at freedom, and, I think, so persuade his lordship of our -intentions that henceforth he will be harmless. Do you agree?" - -Douglas nodded, whereon Sir Charles, advancing into the room again, -addressed Lord Fordingbridge. - -"My lord," he said, in his coldest, most freezing manner, "it were -best you sheathed that sword," and he pointed to it as it lay beside -him on the sofa. "Such weapons are unfitted to a lady's house, and you -may be at ease--no injury is intended you." - -Fordingbridge gazed at him--still with the terror-stricken look in his -eyes, the glance almost of madness or, at best, of imbecility; yet he -did as the baronet bade him, and replaced his weapon. But he uttered -no word. - -"We shall be obliged," continued Sir Charles, "if you will accompany -us to St. James's Park. We have something to say to you." - -"If," said Fordingbridge, finding his voice at last, "you intend to -make me fight a duel with that man, I will not do it. He---- - -"There is," interrupted Douglas, "no thought of such a thing. My sword -is not made to cross one borne by you." - -"Very well," replied the other meekly, "I will come." But, a moment -later, he burst out into one of his more natural methods of speaking, -and cried, "You have the whip hand of me for the moment, but we shall -see. We shall see." - -"We shall," replied Sir Charles, calmly; "but if your lordship is now -ready we may as well depart. We have already encroached somewhat on -Lady Belrose's hospitality." - -The grave manservant seemed somewhat astonished, when he opened the -street door at a summons from the bell, to observe the three gentlemen -go down the steps together and enter the hackney coach which was still -waiting for the viscount. Also he was surprised--since he and all the -other servants in the house had gathered a very accurate knowledge of -what had transpired in the small saloon--to witness the courteous -manner in which Sir Charles motioned to his lordship to enter the -vehicle before him, and then entered it himself, followed by Douglas. -Next, he heard the direction given to the man to drive to St. James's -Park, and retired, wondering what it all meant. After the words he -had--by chance, of course--overheard in the room, he, too, naturally -supposed that a duel was about to be fought; but being a discreet man, -he only mentioned this surmise to his fellow-servants, and took care -not to alarm his mistress. - -Arrived in the park and the coach discharged by Sir Charles, who even -took so much of the ordering of these proceedings upon himself as to -pay the man the hire demanded, the former, still with exquisite -politeness, requested Fordingbridge to avail himself of a vacant bench -close by, since he and his friend, Mr. Sholto, had a few words to say -to each other before they laid their deliberations before him. And -Fordingbridge, still with the terror-stricken look upon his face and -the vacillating glance in his eyes, obeyed without a word. - -And now the others paced up and down the path at a short distance from -him, but always keeping him well in their view, and the deliberations -mentioned by Sir Charles took some time in arriving at. But they came -to an end at last, and the baronet, drawing near to the bench where -Fordingbridge was seated, proceeded to unfold them to him. - -"My lord," he said, speaking with great clearness and cold -distinctness, "you may perhaps think that I should have no part in -whatever has transpired between you and others. Yet I think I have. It -fell to my lot--to my extreme good fortune--to be of assistance to the -Viscountess Fordingbridge, for so I shall continue to call her in -spite of your observations and disclosures this morning, which I do -not believe. It fell to my lot, I repeat, to be of some service to her -ladyship on a certain night a week or two ago. That service was -rendered necessary by your betrayal of a cause which you had once -espoused, of a man whom you had previously injured cruelly, and of -another man, Mr. Douglas, who had never injured you. Therefore, I was -of assistance to her ladyship, who was more or less under my charge -and protection that evening, and I am glad to have been able to do -so." - -"I wish," muttered Fordingbridge hoarsely, glaring at him, "that you -had been at the devil before you did so." - -"Doubtless. But I was not. That service, however, and your visit -to-day to the house of a lady who is shortly about to honour me by -becoming my wife, justifies me, I think, in taking some part in these -proceedings, though only as spokesman. In that character I now propose -to tell you what Mr. Sholto intends to do." - -"What?" gasped Fordingbridge, moistening his lips. - -"First," said Sir Charles, unsparingly, "when he has left the country, -which he will do almost immediately, to denounce you to His Majesty's -Government. You are pledged by every oath that can be regarded as -sacred in any cause to the House of Stuart----" - -"No!" exclaimed Fordingbridge. "No. I am now an adherent of the House -of Hanover." - -"I am afraid even that will be of little avail to you. For, if you -are, you are a double traitor. It was you who planned the attack on -the 'Fubbs,' which brought the King from Herrenhausen at the outbreak -of the Scotch Invasion; you who circulated the papers offering a large -reward for his assassination; you who, but a month or so ago, brought -over with you Father Sholto, the most notorious plotter among the -Jesuits." - -"I denounced him," whined Fordingbridge. "I denounced him. That alone -will save me from the King's anger." - -"That," replied Sir Charles, "is possible. I am willing to allow it. -But you are by your own confession a Jesuit priest, therefore you will -be subject to all the punishments and penalties now in force against -such persons. Also, you will have let loose against you the whole of -the anger of the Jesuits--should His Majesty be inclined to spare -you--when Mr. Sholto has informed them of your treachery. You, as one -yourself, can best imagine what form that anger is likely to take." - -Fordingbridge gasped as he stared at the baronet; and now, indeed, it -seemed as if the light of idiocy alone shone in his eyes. - -"But," went on Sir Charles, "you have also something else to reckon -with, namely, the punishment which your brother religionists may see -fit to accord to you for having, as a priest--as you suggest -yourself--gone through the form of matrimony. I have not the honour to -be of the Romanist religion myself, therefore I do not know what shape -that punishment may take, but, from what Mr. Sholto tells me, it is -for your own sake to be hoped that you have hinted a lie and are, -indeed, no priest." - -"Let me go," said Fordingbridge, "let me go." Then he muttered, -"Curses on you all. If I could kill you both as you stand there, blast -you both to death before me, I would do it." - -"Without doubt," replied Sir Charles; "but if you will pardon my -saying it, your schemes for injuring others seem to fall most -extraordinarily harmless. And I trust your aspirations for our ill -will not take effect until, at least, we have had time to put some -leading Jesuits in France--if not here--in possession of your true -character." - -"Curse you both, curse you all," again muttered Fordingbridge -impotently. - -"Now," continued Sir Charles, "I propose to accompany your lordship as -far as the door of your own house. Once I have seen you safe there, -care will be taken that you shall find no means of communicating in -any way with those who have it in their power to injure our friends. -When, however, they are beyond your reach you will be free from -observation, and will be quite at liberty to devote yourself to making -another peace with the Government and with the--Order of the Jesuits. -My lord, shall we now proceed to Kensington-square?" - -"Have a care," said Fordingbridge, with an evil droop of his eye at -him, "have a care, however, for yourself. If they escape me, you may -not. A harbourer of Jacobites, an abettor in their escape from England -and from justice, I may yet do you an evil turn, Sir Charles Ames." - -"I do not doubt it if you have the power. But, Lord Fordingbridge, you -have so much to think of on your own behalf, you will be so very much -occupied in you own affairs shortly--what with the State on one side -and the Church (your Church) on the other--that I am afraid you will -have but little time to devote to me. And I think, my lord, I can hold -my own against you. Now, come." - -Douglas shook hands with Sir Charles as they stood apart once more -from the wretched man, and after one hearty grasp strode away through -the park, leaving the other two alone. Yet he did not hesitate to -acknowledge the truth of the baronet's last whispered words to him. - -"Lose no time," that gentleman said as they parted, "in putting the -sea between you and England. Also induce your brother to go at once. I -have frightened the craven cur sufficiently to keep him quiet for a -day or so--alas! mine are but idle threats. The Government must find -out his villainies for themselves, while for his Church you must put -them on the scent, but afterwards I cannot answer for what he may do. -Once he finds that they are but idle threats he may go to work again. -Begone, therefore, both of you, and let me hear when you are safe in -France." - -"Have no fear," Douglas replied; "by to-morrow, if all is well, we may -be in Calais. McGlowrie sends another vessel to-night. If possible, -Archie and I, Kate and her father, may be in it. But the day grows -late, there is much to do. Again farewell, and thanks, thanks, thanks -for all." - -"He is safe from you," said the baronet, turning, after Douglas was -gone, to Fordingbridge. "Now, my lord, I am ready." - -"I will not go with you," replied the other, some spark of manliness, -or perhaps shame, rising in his breast at the manner in which he was -dominated by this man whom, until to-day, he had never seen nor heard -of. "I will not go with you." - -And he drew back from him and laid his hand upon the hilt of his -sword. - -"No?" inquired Sir Charles, with his most polished air. Then he -continued: "I am sorry my enforced society should be so unwelcome." As -he spoke he glanced his eye round the grassy slopes of the park and -across the low brick wall which at that time separated it from -Piccadilly. "I regret it very much. But, my lord, I must not force -myself where I am disliked. Therefore, since I see a watchman outside -who appears to have little to occupy him, I will, with your lordship's -permission, ask him to accompany you and see you safely home. Or, -stay," and again his eye roved over the grass, "there is a sergeant's -guard passing towards Buckingham House--your lordship can see their -conical caps over the bushes--I will summon them and relieve you of my -presence, since it is so distasteful." - -"Oh!" exclaimed Fordingbridge, "if ever the time should come--if ever -the chance is mine!" - -"It is not at present," replied the baronet. Then, with an air of -determination which until now he had not assumed, he stamped his foot -angrily and exclaimed: "Come, sir, I will be trifled with no longer. -Either with me, or the watch, or the soldiers. But at once. At once, I -say!" - -And Fordingbridge, knowing he was beaten, went with him. - -A coach was found at the park wicket, into which they entered and -proceeded to Kensington, no word being uttered by either during the -drive. Then, when they had arrived outside Fordingbridge's house, Sir -Charles, with a relaxation of the courteous manner that he had -previously treated the other to, said, coldly and briefly: - -"Remember, for two days you will have no opportunity of injuring -anyone. That I shall take steps to prevent. Afterwards, you will have -sufficient occupation in consulting your own welfare," and, raising -his three-cornered hat an inch, he entered the coach again. Only, he -thought it well to say to the driver in a clear, audible voice which -the other could not fail to hear: - -"Drive to Kensington Palace now; I have business with the officer of -the guard." - -With those terrifying words ringing in his ears--for Fordingbridge -knew how, at that time, soldiers quartered in the neighbourhood of -suspected persons acted as police act in these days, and were employed -often to make arrests of persons implicated with the State--he entered -his house, locking himself in with a key he carried. Then he proceeded -at once to ring the bells and shout for the deaf old servitor, Luke, -but without effect. There was no response to the noise he made, no -sound of the old man's heavy, shuffling feet, and he began to wonder -if he, too, had taken flight like the rest of the servants. Yet, even -if he had, his master meditated, it would matter very little now. He -was himself about to take flight. London was too hot to hold him. - -A coward ever from his infancy, there could have been no better plan -devised to frighten this man from doing more harm to those whom he -wished to injure than the one adopted by Sir Charles Ames; while the -latter's statement that he had business with the officer of the guard -at Kensington Palace was the culminating point to the other's fears. -Moreover--although his mind appeared to him to be strangely hazy and -distraught now, and unable to retain the sequence of that day's -events--he recognised the fearful weapon he had drawn against himself -in suggesting that he was a Jesuit priest. Upon that statement, -testified to by Sir Charles, a man of responsible position, he would -certainly be arrested at once; while, if proof could be obtained that -he was in truth a priest, or had ever been trained to be one, the most -terrible future would lie before him. - -As he thought of all this in a wandering, semi-vacant manner, he set -about doing that which, since the interview in the park, he had made -up his mind to do. He would fly from England, he would return to -France. Yet, he reflected, if in France, Paris would still be closed -to him. There the Jesuits were in possession of terrible authority, -although an authority not recognised by the Government; if they knew -what he had done, even in only betraying Archibald Sholto to the -English authorities, their vengeance on him would be sharp, swift, -terrible. And in Paris also--he could not doubt it--would soon be -Bertie Elphinston and Douglas, even Archibald himself. No, it must not -be Paris. Not yet at least! - -But he must be somewhere out of London, out of England, and he set to -work--still in a dazed, stupefied manner--to make his plans. - -He went first to his own bedroom, to which was attached a small toilet -or dressing-room, and, unlocking an iron-bound strong box, took from -it some money--a small casket of Louis d'ors and English guineas, a -leather case stuffed full of bills of exchange and several notes, -among them a large one drawn by a Parisian money-lender on a London -goldsmith. Then, next, he opened a false tray, or bottom, in the -strong box, and from it took out several shagreen cases which he -slipped into his pocket. These contained all his family jewels. - -Yet the man's fear was so great that he might even by now have been -denounced by Sir Charles Ames to the officer of the guard at -Kensington Palace, that more than once he rose from the box and, on -hearing any slight noise in the square, ran to the window and peered -out of it and down into the road, and then came back to his task of -packing up his valuables. And all the while as he did so he muttered -to himself continually: - -"The notary must see to all--I will write to him from France. He had -best sell all and remit the money. England is done with! Neither -Hanoverian nor Jacobite now. Curse them both and all." Then he -laughed, a little sniggering, feeble laugh--it was wondrous that, in -the state his mind was and with the ruin which was upon him, he could -have been moved by such a trifle!--and chuckled to himself and said: - -"If Luke comes back now he will find the door barred forever. A -faithful servant! A faithful servant! Well, his home is gone. Let him -go drown himself." - -He fetched next all the silver which he could find about the house, -and which had been brought forth on his return from the coffers -where it had lain since his father's flight into France years -ago--candelabras, old dishes and baskets and a coffee pot, with a -tankard or so--and hurled them into the strong box and locked it -securely. - -Then, after once more peering into the square and seeing that all was -clear, he descended to the hall, opened the door an inch or two and -again glanced his eye round, and, a moment later, drew the door to and -went forth into the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -UNITED. - - -All through Picardy, from Artois to the Ile de France, from Normandy -to Champagne, the wheat was a-ripening early that year, the trees in -the orchards and gardens of the rich, fruitful province had their -boughs bent to the earth with their loads, and, so great was the -summer heat, the cattle stood in the rivers and pools for coolness, or -sought shelter under the elms and poplars dotted about by the river's -banks. - -Yet, heat notwithstanding, the great bare road that runs from Calais -through Boulogne, Abbeville, and Amiens, as well as through Clermont -and Chantilly and St. Denis to Paris, had still its continuous traffic -to which neither summer nor winter made much difference, except when -the snows of the latter belated many diligences and waggons--for it -was the high road between the coast and the capital. And thus it was -now, in this hot, broiling June of 1746. Along that road, passing each -other sometimes, sometimes breaking down, sometimes, by the -carelessness of drunken drivers or postillions, getting their wheels -into ditches and sticking there for hours, went almost every vehicle -that was known in the France of those days. Monseigneur's carriage, -drawn by four or six stout travelling roadsters--wrenched for the -occasion from the service of Monseigneur's starving tenants--and -with Monseigneur within it looking ineffably bored at the heat and -the dust and the inferior _canaille_ who obtruded themselves on his -vision--would lumber by the diligence, or Royal Post, farmed from -Louis the well-beloved--so, loved, perhaps, because he despised his -people and said France would last his time, which was long enough!--or -be passed by a _desobligéant_, or chaise for one person, or by a fat -priest on a post-horse, or by a travelling carriage full of -provincials _en route_ for Paris. Also, to add to the continuous -traffic on this road in that period, were _berlins à quatre chevaux_, -carriers' waggons loaded with merchandise either from or to England, -countless horsemen civil and military, and innumerable pedestrians, -since the accomplishment of long journeys on foot, with a wallet slung -on the back, was then one of the most ordinary methods of travelling -amongst the humbler classes. - -Seated in the _banquette_, or hooded seat, attached to the back of the -diligence from Calais to Amiens, on one of these broiling days in June -of 1746, were Kate Fane--as now she alone would describe herself or -allow herself to be styled--and her father. They had crossed from -England in the ordinary packet-boat a day or two before, and were at -this moment between Abbeville and Amiens, at which latter place they -proposed to remain for the present at least. To look at her none -would have supposed that, not more than a week or two before, this -golden-haired girl, now dressed in a plain-checked chintz, with, to -protect her head from the heat, a large flapping straw hat, had been -discarded by the man whom she had imagined to be her husband; had been -told that she was, possibly, no lawful wife. For she looked happier, -brighter at this time than she had ever done since she went through -a form of marriage with the Viscount Fordingbridge, because--though -not in the way that he had falsely insinuated--she was free of him. - -"What was it Archie said to ye?" asked her father as the diligence -toiled up a small hill, the road of which was shaded by trees from the -burning sun. "What was it he said to ye in the letter you got at -Calais? Tell me again; I like not to think that my daughter has been -flouted and smirched by such a scoundrel as that. Lawfully married, -humph! Lawfully married, he said, eh?" - -"Lawfully married enough, father," Kate replied. "Lawfully enough to -tie me to him for ever as his wife. But," she went on, "lawful or not -lawful, nothing shall ever induce me to see him, to speak with him -again." - -"Read me the letter," said Fane; "let me hear all about it." - -"Nay, nay," answered his daughter, "time enough when we get to Amiens, -when we shall all meet again. Oh, the joyful day! The blessed chance! -To think that to-night we shall all of us be together once more! All! -all! Just as we used to be in the happy old times in the Trousse -Vache," and she busied herself with taking a little wine and water -from a basket she had with her, and a bunch of grapes and some chipped -bread, and ministering to the old man. - -So, as you may gather from her words, those who had been in such peril -in England were back safe in France. Bertie Elphinston had crossed, -disguised, of course, as a drover, unmolested by "infernal sloops o' -war and bomb-ketches"--to use honest McGlowrie's words--or anything -else. And, also, the Sholtos had come in the same way, finding, -indeed, so little let or hindrance in either the river or on the sea, -that they began to think the English King's rage and hate against all -who had taken part in the late rebellion were slacked at last. They -were, in truth, not nearly glutted yet, and the safe, undisturbed -passage which they had been fortunate enough to make was due to that -strange chance which so often preserves those who are in greatest -danger. - -Still, they were over, no matter how or by what good fortune, and that -night--that afternoon, in another hour's time--all would meet at the -Inn, _La Croix Blanche_, in Amiens. - -At Calais Kate had learned the welcome tidings; a letter had been -given into her hands by no less a person than the great Dessein -himself--hotel-keeper, _marchand-de-vin_, job-master, and letter of -coaches, chaises, and post-horses, and plunderer of travellers -generally!--and in it was news from Father Sholto, as he might safely -be called here in France, and from Bertie and Douglas. - -Sholto's letter told her all she desired to know, viz., that -Fordingbridge's suggestion of his being a priest was a lie, "the -particulars of which," the Jesuit wrote, "I will give you at Amiens -when we meet." Bertie's, on the other hand, told her--manfully and, of -course, as a woman would think, selfishly--that he regretted that it -was an implied lie. "Because," wrote he, "had it been the truth, we -might have become man and wife within twenty-four hours of meeting, -and now we are as far apart as ever." Some other details were also -given, such as that Father Sholto was in residence for the time being -at the Jesuit College, and that Bertie had rejoined his regiment and -was now on duty at the Citadel. Douglas was at the _Croix Blanche_, -and would take care that suitable rooms were kept for them, though, -since it happened to be the great summer fair-time, the city was full -of all kinds of people, and rooms in fierce demand at every hostelry. - -These letters, received by Kate as they landed from the packet-boat in -the canal at Calais, were sufficient to prompt her to lose no time in -hastening onward--north. The diligence, she found, left the hospitable -doors of Monsieur Dessein at five o'clock on summer mornings, and did -the distance of sixty miles to Amiens in eleven hours, which Dessein -spoke of approvingly--and falsely--as being the fastest possible. -Still they could not afford anything that was faster--for they had -little money in their purse these days. Therefore, at dawn, they -clambered into the _banquette_, which happened to be vacant, and set -out upon their road. - -And now, as the diligence skirted the river Somme, and drew near to -Picquigny, the towers of the cathedral _Nôtre Dame d'Amiens_ came into -sight, and the ramparts of the city. And, because it was fair-time, -the roads were full of people of all kinds streaming towards it; of -market people, with their wares, and waggons of fruit and vegetables, -and poultry, of saltimbanques and strolling actors, strong men, fat -women, dwarfs, and giants--since in those days fairs were not much -different from what they are now, only the play was a little rougher -and the speech a little coarser even among the lowest. - -Nevertheless, amidst the ringing of the cathedral bells, as well as -those of the Collegiate Church and Amiens' fourteen parish churches, -the diligence arrived at last, and only one hour late, at the office -of the _Poste du Roi_, and there, walking up and down in front of it, -were Bertie and Douglas, both in their uniforms, and waiting for them. - -"How did you know, Mr. Elphinston," Kate asked, glad of the bustle and -confusion in the streets caused by the fair and by the arrival of the -diligence, "that we should come to-day? We might not have crossed from -England for another week--nay, another month, for the matter of that." - -"We should have been here all the same," Bertie replied. "I am not on -duty at this time in the day, and Douglas would have come every -afternoon. We have watched the arrival of the diligence, Kate, for the -last week--since--ever since you wrote to say you were about to set -out." - -"I did not know I told Archie that." - -"No, but you told me. Have you forgotten all you wrote to me, Kate?" - -"No," she said, in a low voice, and with her soft blush. "Yet, -remember, Ber----Mr. Elphinston--we are as far apart as ever. Archie -says I am, in truth, that man's wife." - -"I remember," he replied; "I must remember," and he led the way into -the inn, which was close by the _Poste du Roi_. - -The young men had been fortunate enough to secure a room for -themselves and the new arrivals, where they could sit as well as take -their meals apart, in spite of the inn being crowded. Nay, those who -crowded it now were scarcely of the class who require sitting-rooms, -nor, in some cases, bedrooms even; many of them being very well -satisfied to lie down and take their rest in the straw of the stables. -For among the customers of _La Croix Blanche_ were horse-dealers from -Normandy and from Flanders; the performers at the booths, the -strolling actors, mendicant friars--if friars they were!--vendors of -quack medicines, and all the _olla-podrida_ that went to make up a -French fair. These cared not where they slept, while of those who -sought bedrooms there were _commis voyageurs_, ruffling gentlemen of -the road, bedizened with tawdry lace, and with red, inflamed faces -beneath their bag-wigs _à la pigeon_--on whom the local watch kept -wary eyes--large purchasers of woollen ribbons and ferrets, serges, -stuffs, and black and green soap for the Paris market, in the -production of all of which things Amiens has ever been famous, as well -as for its _pâti de canard_. Nor did any of these people require -private rooms for the consumption of their food, but, instead, ate -together at the ordinary, or fed in the kitchen among the scullions -and their pots and pans. - -Therefore, undisturbed, or disturbed only by the cries that arose from -below, as evening came on and the guests' table became crowded, -Douglas and Bertie ministered to the wants of Kate and her father, and -compared notes of the passages they had made across from England. Also -they spoke of their future, Kate's being that which needed the most -discussion. - -"Prince Edward is safe," said Bertie, "of this there is no doubt. He -is known by those of this country, though by none in England, to be -secure with Cluny in the mountain of Letternilichk, near Moidart. Off -Moidart is the 'Bellona,' a Nantes privateer, with three hundred and -forty men on board, and well armed. She will get him away, in spite of -Lestock's squadron, which is hovering about between Scotland and -Brittany. Now, Kate, when he arrives in Paris, as he will do shortly, -his household will be a pleasant one. Your place must be there." - -"In the household of the prince!" exclaimed Kate. - -"Ay! in the household of the prince. Nay, never fear. You will not be -the only woman. The Ladies Elcho and Ogilvie will be with you; also -old Lady Lochiel. Oh, you will be a bonnie party! While, as for Mr. -Fane, some place must also be found." - -"But who is to find these places?" she asked. - -"Archie," replied Douglas. "He has interest enough with Tencin to do -anything. Indeed, from finding a post at court to obtaining a _lettre -de cachet_, he can do it." - -"Why," said Bertie to him aside, noticing that he turned pale as he -spoke, "did you shiver then, Douglas, as I have seen you do before -now? You do not fear a _lettre de cachet_ for Vincennes or the -Bastille--and--and--we are not talking of the man at whose name I have -seen you shiver before." - -"I--I do not know," his companion replied. "It must be that I am fey, -or a fool, or both. Yet, last night I dreamt that Archie was asking -the minister for a _lettre de cachet_ to consign someone--I know not -whom--to the Bastille, and--and--I woke up shivering as I did just -now." - -"It could not be for you, at least," answered the other. - -"Perhaps," replied Douglas, moodily, "for someone who had injured me. -Who knows?" - -Whatever reply his stronger-minded friend might have made to this -gloomy supposition, which was by no means the first he had known -Douglas to be subjected to, was not uttered since at that moment -Archibald Sholto himself entered the room. - -His greetings to Kate were warm and, at the same time, brotherly. He, -too, remembered how for years the little party assembled now in _La -Croix Blanche_ had all been as though one family; he remembered the -black spot that had come amongst them; that to Fordingbridge, whom he -himself had introduced into Fane's house, was owing most, if not all, -of the evil that had befallen them. Also he recalled that, but for -Fordingbridge's treachery, neither he, nor Bertie, nor Douglas would -have been forced to flee out of England for their lives; that Kate -would never have forfeited her position nor have had the foul yet -guarded suggestion hurled against her that she was no wife, but only a -priest's mistress. Then, when their first welcomes and salutations -were over, he spoke aloud to her on the subject that, above all, -engrossed their minds. - -"Kitty," he said, "is Fordingbridge gone mad? For to madness alone can -such conduct as his be attributed." - -"I do not know," she replied. "I cannot say. All I know is that he is -a villain and a traitor--that I have done with him for ever. Yet he -must be mad when he throws out so extraordinary a hint as that he is a -priest. He could not have been a priest, and you not know it--could -he?" - -Up from the guests' room below there came the hubbub of those at -supper, the shouts of the copper captains for more petits pigolets of -wine, mixed with the clattering of plates and dishes, the calls of -other travellers for food, and the general disturbance that -accompanies a French inn full of visitors, as Father Sholto answered -gravely: - -"My child, he might have been a priest and I not know it; God might -even have allowed so wicked a scheme to enter his heart as that, being -one, he should go through a form of marriage with an innocent woman. -But, my dear, one thing is still certain, he was not, is not, a -priest--I know it now beyond all doubt; you are as lawfully his wife -as it is possible for you to be." - -"What--what, then, was the use of such a statement, such a lie, added -to all the others which--God forgive him!--he has already told since -first he darkened our door?" - -"The gratification of his hate, his revenge against you and all of us. -He hated you because you had never loved him, and had at last come to -despise him; he hated Bertie because you had always loved him" (as he -spoke, the eyes of those two met in one swift glance, and then were -quickly lowered to the table at which they sat); "he hated me because -I knew him. And, remember, until he had put himself in the power of -Douglas and Sir Charles Ames by insinuating himself to be what he was -not--a priest--he thought that I should soon be removed from his path -for ever. Once in the power of the English Government, my tongue would -have been silenced; it would have been hard to prove, perhaps, that he -was not a priest; that you were a lawful married woman." - -"Yet, surely, it could have been proved in some way. And--and--of what -avail such a lie to him? Knowing he is not a priest, he would not have -dared to take another wife." - -"Perhaps," replied Sholto, "he had no desire to take another. If he is -not mad, he had but one wish, to outrage and insult you, and thereby -avenge himself upon you. Moreover, he must have some feelings still -left in him--your very renunciation of him may have led to his denial -of you." - -"How have you found for certain that he is no priest?" - -"In the easiest manner. A letter to the 'General' at Rome, another to -the 'Provincial' at Lisbon, and, lo! a reply from each to the effect -that neither under the name of Simeon Larpent nor the title of -Viscount Fordingbridge had anyone been ever admitted to the Society of -Jesus. At St. Omer, I knew, of course, such a thing could not have -happened; nay, I knew more: I knew that neither as novice nor acolyte, -even, had Fordingbridge ever been admitted, nor had he submitted to -any of those severe examinations which all must pass through ere they -can become these alone. As for priest--well, it was impossible, -impossible that he could be one and I not know it, never have heard of -it." - -"So, Kate," whispered Bertie to her, "you are still Lady -Fordingbridge. As far apart as ever--as far apart as ever." - -"Surely," said she to him, as now they talked alone and outside the -general conversation that was going on, "surely it is better so. I -have renounced him, it is true; willingly I will never see nor speak -to him again; he and I are sundered for ever. Yet--yet--Bertie," and -for the first time now, after so long, she called him frankly by the -old, familiar name, "I could never have come to you had I been that -other thing. You could not have taken such as I should have been for -your wife." - -He looked at her, but answered no word. Then he sighed and turned -away. - -They sat far into the evening talking and making plans, while still, -through the warm summer night, the noise of the crowded city came in -at their windows and nearly deafened them. And this is what they -decided upon for the future. - -The troop to which Bertie Elphinston belonged in the Regiment of -Picardy would be removed, later on, to quarters at St. Denis, and at -about the same time Douglas would rejoin his regiment in Paris, while -his brother Archibald was about to depart for St. Omer, where he -should remain for some time. He had, he said, nothing more to do now -in the world, since the restoration he had hoped so much from had -failed altogether. Therefore, because at present there was no need for -Kate to go to Paris, and because, also, her father became more and -more ailing every day, they decided to remain at Amiens, to live -quietly there in lodgings, and to have at least the friendship of the -two young men to cheer them. There was still a little money left from -the sale of Doyle Fane's fencing school in Paris--indeed, it had never -been touched since Kate's marriage--which would suffice for their -wants, especially since Amiens was cheaper than Paris to reside in. -Then, when the time came, they would all move on to the capital, and -there, as they told each other, try to forget the black, bitter year -which had come and separated them all from the happy life they had -once led together. - -"Only," said Bertie once again that night to her, ere he went back to -the Citadel, "only, still we are parted; the gulf is ever between us. -O Kate, Kate! if it were not for that." - -And once more for reply she whispered: - -"'Tis better so, better than if it had been as he, that other, said. -At least I am honest; if--if freedom ever comes, no need for you to -blush for me." - -"Nay," he said, "none could do that, knowing all. For myself, Kate, I -would it had been as the wretch said. Then the bar would not be -there." - -"But the blot would." - -With which words she left him and the others, going with her father to -the rooms prepared for them. - -Meanwhile, as now the full night was upon them, the hubbub and the -uproar grew greater in the inn. Back from the booths and open-air -theatres came the mummers and the mountebanks, the mendicant friars -with their pills and potions, balsams, styptics, and ointments, the -Norman and Flemish horse dealers--the latter drunk and shouting for -more drink--and all the rest. And they distributed themselves about -the _Croix Blanche_, as, indeed, they were doing in every other -hostelry in Amiens, and laughed and shrieked and howled and cursed as -they sought their beds in the straw or the garrets, and turned the -ancient city into a veritable pandemonium. - -"I will walk with you a part of the way," said Douglas to his brother -and Bertie as they rose to depart. "This narrow street is hot and -stuffy, especially with the fumes that arise from the revellers below. -The night air will be cool and refreshing before sleep." - -And buckling on his sword he went down with them, and out through the -still crowded inn yard. - -At the Jesuit College he parted with Archibald, and went on a little -farther with Bertie, and then, saying that he was refreshed with the -coolness, bade him also good-night. - -"It is good for us all to be together again, Bertie, boy, is it not?" -he exclaimed as they shook each other by the hand; "good to think -that, with but a few intervals of separation when on service, we shall -scarcely ever be parted more. Nothing is wanting now but that you and -Kate could come together lawfully." - -"That," replied the other, "seems never likely to be permitted to us. -Well, we must bear it, hard as it is. Yet, Douglas, I am as honestly -glad as you can be that we are safe back in France with all our -troubles over." - -"Yes," replied Douglas, "with our troubles over. Yet I wonder where -that rogue ingrain, Fordingbridge, is?" - -He was soon to know. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -"TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST." - - -Some of those who came to Amiens as attendants upon the fair had not -yet sought their beds, whether in the straw of the stables, on the -brick floors of the kitchens, or in the sweltering garrets under the -red-tiled roofs. Night birds, however, were most of these, creatures -who found their account in roaming the streets, seeking whom they -might devour. Night birds, such as the bellowing, red-faced bullies -who had been shouting all day for drink and food in the _Croix -Blanche_, and who, managing to keep sober in spite of all their -potations, sallied forth at midnight. For it was then their work -began. Then horse dealers, merchants, buyers, dissolute members of the -local _bourgeoisie_ and the _petite noblesse_, making their way to -their lodgings or houses, found themselves suddenly seized by the -throat or from behind, and their watches, trinkets and rings taken -from them and their purses cut--nay, might deem themselves fortunate -if their throats were not cut too. - -Once or twice men of this stamp passed Douglas after he had quitted -his friend--fellows in soiled finery with great swords by their sides, -and with their huge hats drawn down over their faces--who looked at -him askance, seeing his sword also by his side and noting his -well-knit form and military bearing. But, as they observed his glance -fixed keenly on them and his hand ready enough to his weapon, they -passed on with a surly "Good-night." - -Making his way back to the inn, Douglas came to a sudden halt as he -arrived under the _Beau Dieu_ on the pillar of the great west doorway -of _Nôtre Dame d'Amiens_, for, in the open space in front of that -entrance he saw two of these very night birds standing, evidently, as -he supposed at first, planning and concocting some villainy. Regarding -them from behind a buttress of that old cathedral of Robert de -Luzarches, he could observe them and all their movements plainly -enough, since the full moon was high in the heavens by now; and, -although the towers obscured somewhat the light, a great stream of it -poured down into the place before the west doorway and with its rays -illuminated the space. - -Great brawny fellows they were, he could see; good types of the half -swashbuckler, half highwayman, of the period--the class of men who -would be found one day fighting as mercenaries at Placentia or -Raucoux, another robbing a church or some lonely grange, another hung -or broken on the wheel, or swinging in chains on a gibbet on some -heath or by the seashore. - -"By St. Firmin!" he heard one say to the other, while he balanced -something in his hand which sparkled in the moonlight as he gazed down -at it, "who would have thought the scarecrow had such valuables upon -him? _Regardez moi ça!_" and again he moved what he had in his hand, -so that it glittered as though on fire. - -"'Tis enough," replied the other, "we have done well this fairing. Now -for Paris and _vogue la galère!_ We have the wherewithal to amuse -ourselves for a year. Come, let us ride to-night; to-morrow he may -raise a hue and cry. Come, the horses are outside; the gates do not -shut till midnight. Hark! it wants but a quarter," he broke off as the -big clock above them boomed out that hour. "Come," and clasping his -companion's arm they disappeared round the other side of the -cathedral. - -The first impulse of Douglas was to seize these men, if possible; -the next, since they were two to one, to follow them to the gate and -there to call on the watchman to prevent their exit. And knowing that -some robbery had been committed, perhaps some murder--as was very -likely--he was about to put this idea in practice when his action was -arrested by what startled him far more than the sight of the two -scoundrels regarding their stolen wealth had done. - -That which so startled him was a man's form creeping up behind him in -the shadow of the cathedral, a man who had come so near to him without -his knowing it that, as Douglas turned and faced him, he sprang out at -him and endeavoured to seize him by the throat. And as he did so he -shrieked out, "Villain, thief, give me back my property! Give it back, -I say, or," and he hissed the words out, "I will kill you! See, I am -armed: you have left me this," and he brandished a long knife that -shone in the moonlight--into which Douglas had now dragged him--as the -jewels had heretofore shone. - -Of the man himself, nor of his dagger, Douglas had no fear; he was -stronger than his antagonist, and his hand held the other's, which -grasped the weapon, as in a vice. But what appalled, almost unnerved -him, was that he knew the voice--and he knew the man. It was -Fordingbridge. - -"You fool!" he cried, "do you not know me? I am Douglas Sholto," and -as he said the words he felt the other's hold relax, felt him -disengage himself and stagger back against the wall of the cathedral, -where, the moon lighting up his pale, cadaverous face, he stood -gasping and glaring at him. - -"Douglas Sholto!" he muttered, whispering to himself, "Douglas Sholto -here? So, you herd with thieves and robbers, do you? Where are they -gone, those others? Where, where, I say?" - -"To the gates, I imagine. Beyond them by now," for as he spoke the -hour boomed forth from the clock in the tower above, and was repeated -by all the other clocks in the city. "Your property, Lord -Fordingbridge, is gone. I cannot say that I am sorry for it, though, -had you not come when you did, I was about to follow the men who -robbed you and have them stopped at the gate. Now, knowing whom they -have despoiled, I can only say I rejoice that for once you have met -with scoundrels as great as yourself." - -Glowering, staring at him intently, the other leaned back against the -cathedral, while from his eyes there shone a light which looked like -the light of madness. Nay, in that moment Douglas decided in his own -mind that he was mad. Still, so great a villain did he know -Fordingbridge to be, that, gentle as he was to all others, he could -feel no pity towards him. Instead, he said: - -"So, my lord, not content with having nearly sacrificed our lives in -England, you have tracked us all to this place, doubtless in -furtherance of some scheme of your own, though what it is I cannot -even guess. You can harm no one here. Your spite----" - -"It is false," said Fordingbridge; "I have done no such thing. I am -myself on the road to Paris"--he did not say that he was a fugitive -from England--"and I have been robbed of all--jewels, money, bills." - -"To Paris!" echoed Douglas. "I am afraid you will scarcely be welcome -there. The base hint you gave about being a priest will surely lead -you into trouble--for it is a lie, as my brother has discovered," and -he saw the other start at his words. But he went on: "Moreover, there -are many ardent adherents of the Stuart cause in Paris. How do you -imagine they will receive the intelligence that you, a supposed -adherent yourself, endeavoured to betray three others to their doom in -London? Lord Fordingbridge, take my advice, do not go to Paris." - -In truth, he had no intention of going to Paris, as has been already -told. After much deliberation, when he stole away from his house at -Kensington, and during the time occupied in escaping to France, he had -been meditating much upon where he should live, where go to until the -trouble he had brought upon himself by his own evil actions should -have blown over. Money he did not want, having a large sum in France -that had been invested by his father, as well as that which he could -procure from his property in England, and so, at last, he decided that -he would for some time at least take up his abode at Amiens. There he -was comparatively near Paris if he wished at any time to visit the -capital, and at the same time he was but a day's journey to the -seaports of Calais and Boulogne, should he find it necessary at any -time to quit France suddenly. Full of these ideas, and certain that it -would not be long before he could either return to England or take up -his position in Paris, he had come on to Amiens and was now staying -at a larger inn than the _Croix Blanche_ under the name of Mr. -Chester--which had been his mother's. - -He had come out that night, partly driven forth by the shouts and -carousings that were going on in his own hostelry in the same manner -that they were in all the others in the city, and which, with his -brain in the state it had been for some time now, were maddening to -him. And partly, also, he had been driven forth by discovering that a -large group of English visitors had arrived during the afternoon, the -very sight of whom was terrifying to him, since amongst them were one -or two young men of fashion whom he had more than once met at King -George's levees. Therefore, he had determined to wander about the city -until it was time to go to bed, and then to return and keep his room -until the English party had gone on to Paris the next morning and the -hubbub of the fair was over. But near the cathedral he had been -attacked and robbed of his money and trinkets--which, for precaution, -as he imagined, he had kept on his person--and in endeavouring to -follow the thieves he had stumbled on Douglas Sholto. - -"No one would know that I was in Paris," he said, with a cunning leer -in his eyes, as he answered the other's remark. "No one, no one." - -"On the contrary," replied Douglas, "everyone would know--Bertie, my -brother, your wife, all." - -Again the other leered at him with so sidelong a glance, with such a -snake-like look, that Douglas, remembering how Archibald had said that -night that he must be mad, began to feel sure that he was, indeed, in -the presence of a demoniac--a creature whose pursuit of evil had -turned his brain. And again, for some reason, the young man shuddered -violently as he looked at him, as he had shuddered more than once -before. - -"No," hissed Fordingbridge, glinting his eyes round the open space in -front of the great cathedral, which, with the exception of the spot -where they stood, close up by the door, was now bathed in moonlight. -"No; they do not know, they will never know. They think I am still in -England; that I shall not leave it." - -"Indeed! Will they think so to-morrow when I tell them I have met you -to-night?" - -"Tell them to-morrow! To-morrow?" he whispered. "How can you do that, -Douglas Sholto?" - -"Very easily. They are all here." - -"Here!" He almost screamed the word "here," and his eyes roved round -the place as though he thought they might be hiding behind some -buttress, or pillar, ready to spring out on him. - -"Ay, here. One, who seeks for you ever, at the Citadel, another at the -Jesuits' College, and your wife at an inn in the town." - -Fordingbridge reeled back against the cathedral walls once more as he -heard this unexpected disclosure--he had until now imagined that -Douglas was alone in Amiens; and there he stood absolutely paralysed -with apprehension. In Amiens! The very place he had selected for a -refuge. In Amiens. They would know all to-morrow, all. And he would be -brought face to face with Elphinston, who would slay him, he never -doubted; with Archibald Sholto, who would denounce him to the -Jacobites, of whom there were many in this city as well as Paris; to -the Church, which he had slandered by falsely stating himself to be -one of its priests. A Church which, he knew--had reason enough to -know--was sufficiently powerful to resent any affront to it; a Church -which--though the Inquisition had no foothold in France--could make -its vengeance felt. And he remembered he had bound himself to that -Church by many oaths to further the Stuart cause in England, and had -ended by denouncing three of its most active partisans! No need for -Elphinston to force him to fight; no need for the Jacobites to take -vengeance on him for his treachery; Archibald Sholto would see that -the punishment was accorded. - -As he stood there, while Douglas remained regarding him, he thought it -all out as well as his disordered mind would permit; remembered that -but for the hated form of the man before him they would never know he -was in France. And if they never knew, then he might remain in peace -until things could be smoothed over in England. But could they be so -smoothed? He must know that first. - -"You drove me out of England," he said, or rather whined; "now you -would drive me out of France"; and he folded his hands across his -breast as he spoke, and stood shaking before the other. - -"Your own cowardice, your own wickedness, drove you out," replied -Douglas. "Nought else. And, Lord Fordingbridge, because I would not -have you regard us upon the same bad level as yourself, let me tell -you this: None of us are spies, denouncers, informers. None. We do not -shift from white to black cockade to save our necks nor to gratify a -base hatred. You were not denounced by us to the English Government -even after your execrable lies at Lady Belrose's; we but frightened -you into silence till we had time to quit England ourselves. You have -been terrified by a bugbear--by your own evil nature." - -Alas! poor Douglas. He was no match for this crafty, frenzied villain. -He told more than he should. He showed Fordingbridge that England was -still open to him; he presented him with the knowledge that, besides -himself, there was no one knew of his presence in France. - -In a moment the wretch had grasped this fact; in another he had -resolved on what he would do. His glittering eye still upon Douglas, -who stood there calmly contemptuous, his left hand idly resting on his -sword hilt, and his right in the lace of his ruffles, he asked: - -"Is this true?" - -For answer Douglas shrugged his shoulders and replied, "All men are -not born liars." - -Alas! poor Douglas. Unready as he was, he had no time to save himself. - -With a harsh, raucous cry the other sprang at him; the knife, which he -had held hidden in his sleeve so long, gleamed in the moonlight; a -moment later and it was buried in Douglas's bosom. - -"So," said the assassin, "in this way I am free of France too." - -As he struck the unhappy man the latter reeled back three paces and -then fell prone in the full blaze of the moonlight, while the -murderer, with a hurried glance round, prepared to skulk away in the -deep shadow thrown by the cathedral walls on a side street. Yet, as -though the horror of the deed he had done were not enough for him to -carry away, he knew that it had been observed. - -As he turned to fly, he saw looking at him from a window in a darkened -room the white face of a woman distorted with terror; a face from -which the eyes seemed starting. And, as he crept by the buttress in -the shadow, he also saw her raise her finger and point as though -denouncing him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -GASCONISM. - - -The summer waned, the autumn came, and poor, gentle Douglas lay in his -grave, but still his murderer had never been discovered. - -Yet in connection with that murderer, or rather in connection with the -murder itself, some extraordinary facts had been forthcoming which, -after all, but served to surround it more and more with mystery. These -you shall hear. - -When that white-faced woman, whose threatening finger had pointed at -the assassin as he fled, recovered from her horror--she was but a poor -concierge who had happened to be seeking her bed--she rushed forth -into the open place where Douglas's body lay, and there, with wild and -piercing shrieks, awakened all who dwelt round the cathedral. At first -she conveyed to those who hurried to the spot the idea that it was she -who was the shedder of blood, for, as she threw herself down by the -victim's side to see if any spark of life remained, her own white -night garments became stained with the dreadful fluid, so that those -hurrying to the scene imagined that they saw a guilty woman screaming -over her own evil deed. - -But as she grew more composed she was able to tell her tale -coherently; to relate how, in curiosity, she had stood watching those -two conversing there; how she had seen the blow struck, and the -murderer flee into the darkness. She was very poor, she said, every -sou was worth taking account of; therefore, on moonlight nights, she -sought her bed without candlelight. Yet now she bemoaned her thrift, -for had she but burnt a light it might have alarmed the assassin--have -saved the unhappy victim. - -"But _mort de ma vie!_" exclaimed the chief of the watch, who by this -time had arrived with two or three of his subordinates, "why not rush -out and follow the man; why not at least open the window and scream? -_Peste!_ you women can do that if a mouse scampers across the floor or -your husband reproves you, yet, behold! when a man is done to death -you hold your tongue." - -The poor affrighted creature, still whimpering and shivering, -explained that she had no thought of murder being about to be done; -she had supposed they were two friends parting for the night; there -was no sign of argument or quarrel, and, when the deed was done, she -thought she had swooned for a moment or so. She could say no more. - -"_Peste!_" again exclaimed the chief of the watch--a tetchy man given -to examining all kinds of characters from midnight revellers and -wassailers to housebreakers and worse, "why not do something better -than swoon? And I'll be sworn, too, that you would not know the fellow -again even though he came back this instant itself." - -But to this the woman protested her dissent. She would know him again -anywhere, at once or at a long interval, adding with a shudder that -"for ever and as long as she should live, his features were stamped -into her memory." - -"What was he like, then?" asked the chief, "how clad?" - -"Fairly tall," she replied, "though not so tall, I think, as _that_," -and she glanced at poor Douglas's body lying in the centre of the -crowd that surrounded it. The chief of the watch, and a doctor who had -come from out a house near, had examined it at once on their arrival, -and, alas! there was no life left in it. The gentle spirit had flown. - -"Also," she went on, "the assassin was very dark, his eyes of a -piercing nature, his face white as a corpse--as _that_," and again she -glanced at the dead man; "but the whiteness might be from horror, _mon -Dieu!_ it was a terrible face, the face of a devil, terror-stricken; -the face of a fiend. But no remorse, oh, no! only fear--it might be of -himself." - -"And his clothes?" asked the chief. "What of them?" - -"Sombre, dark. All dark. Scarce any lace at sleeves or breast, neither -aigrette nor cockade, nor galloon to his hat; no sword." - -"Not a bully, then, nor _filou?_ No appearance of a knight of the -road? Hein?" - -"No," the woman replied, "no." Then, reflectively, she said, "It was, -I think, no murder for gain nor greed. Nay, could not have been. He -stooped not, went not near the--the body after it fell. More like, I -think, a deed of hate, of bitter, hot rage. Who knows? Perhaps a wife -stolen, a daughter wronged. All is possible. For see, _it_," and again -she glanced down, "was young, and--and, _mon Dieu, il était beau!_" - -So they all said who gazed upon the handsome features now setting -rigidly in the blaze of the moon. "_Il était beau!_" - -"Well," said the chief, "we must not stay here. He must be removed. -Meanwhile, I must to the officers of the guard; none must pass the -gates at daybreak except under strict scrutiny. And the body must be -searched to see if we can gather who and what he is. Alas! alas! The -woman speaks well. He was handsome." - -But now an exclamation arose from the crowd, while one or two stooped -hurriedly to the earth, and the first picked up something that, as he -held it out, glistened in his hand. It was an unset stone, a ruby. - -"_Tiens_," said the chief, turning it over in his hand, "what's this? -A ruby, and unset," he repeated. Then meditatively, "It may have -fallen from a setting worn by one or other, victim or murderer--from, -say, a ring, a collar, a brooch for cravat, or ruffle. Has he upon his -body," he said to his attendant, "any setting to which it might by -chance belong?" - -The man bent down and inspected poor Douglas's form, then he rose and -shook his head. - -"Neither ring nor chain that I can see. Nought that is likely to have -held such as that stone." - -"Humph!" mused the chief, "humph!" Then he whispered to himself, "If -anyone pass the gate to-morrow with an unfilled setting--bah! _Non! -non! non!_ He that has the setting belonging to the ruby will scarcely -show it. Yet, that the murderer owns it is most likely. If it had been -lost by anyone who has lately worshipped here," and he glanced up at -the cathedral over which the daffodil dawn was coming now from the -east, "there would have been hue and cry enough. _Allons_," he said -aloud. "To the watch house. And, _bonne femme_, come you with us to -testify." Then, turning to his underlings, he said, "Bring him with -you--find a plank or door. And--and--be gentle with him. _Pauvre -garçon!_ Has he a mother, I wonder?" - -For three or four days the search went on, those whom he had loved so -aiding it in every way. Archibald, stern, silent, inwardly crushed; -Bertie mad with grief and despair; Kate broken-hearted. The lower -parts of the city were ransacked and received visits from the watch -and the exempts, but nothing came of it except great discomfort to the -denizens thereof. Nothing! And--which perhaps was not strange--never -to one of those who had so loved him came the veriest shadow of a -thought as to who the murderer was. It was not possible, indeed, that -such a thought should come. He, they imagined--if ever in their sorrow -they let his foul memory enter their mind--was in England. No, they -never dreamt of him. They began, therefore, at last to think, as all -the world which went to make up Amiens thought, that some of the -outcasts, the thieves and scoundrels who had visited the city at -fair-time, had taken his bright young life. Yet, strange to say, if -such were the case, he had not been robbed. His pocketbook was on him, -his purse untouched. There was little enough in either, it was true, -yet, the night-birds would have had them had they been his slayers! - -Then, at last, it seemed that the murderers were caught. - -There rode up to the south gate, on the fifth day, a sergeant and -three troopers of the Regiment Picardy, and with them they had--bound -with rope;--two villainous-looking scoundrels, fellows in stained and -tawdry riding coats, with brandy-inflamed faces, one having a broken -leg, so that as he sat on his horse he groaned with every movement it -made. - -The sergeant's story was brief and soon told to the captain of the -guard, while Bertie Elphinston, summoned to hear it, stood by -hollow-eyed and sad, wondering if he was to learn that in these -swashbucklers he saw the assassins of his poor friend. - -"_Monsieur le capitaine_," said the sergeant, "by orders received from -you we have scoured the roads for the last few days. Then, last night, -we put up at the _Dragon Volant_, outside of Poix, and here we found -these two _larrons_. This one--this creature here--who calls himself -Jacques Potin, was abed with his broken leg, his horse having thrown -him; the other one, who names himself Adolphe d'Aunay, was nursing -him. _Ma foi!_ a strange patient and a strange nursing. From the room -they occupied came forth howlings and singings and songs of the -vilest, mixed with oaths and laughter sufficient to have awakened -their grandfathers in their prison graves. 'Twas this drew my -attention to them, _Monsieur le capitaine_. Passing their door, -attracted by their roars and singings, I was also led to stop and -listen, because, the uproar over, I next heard this conversation: -'Curse you and your leg too!' said he who calls himself D'Aunay; 'if -'twere not for your accident we should have been in Paris now, safe -and free with our prize disposed of. Your drunkenness, whereby you got -your fall, has ruined all.' '_Mon petit choux_,' said the other, -'bemoan not; here we are snug and comfortable. Our _logement_ is good, -the food of the best, the wine of the most superior. What would you -more? And we have the jewels, which are a small fortune, and the -money--_bonnes pieces fortes et trebuchantes_--for our immediate -wherewithal. As for the bills and bonds--well, we have destroyed them, -so they can tell no tales. _Mon enfant_, be gay.' - -"Upon this," went on the sergeant, "I arrested them and found these." - -Whereupon the man produced from his pockets numerous gold coins, -French and English, Louis d'ors and double Louis d'ors, some gold -quadruple pistoles, and a handful of English guineas. And also he -brought forth, wrapped in a filthy handkerchief, a considerable -quantity of pieces of jewellery containing superb precious stones. -There were two necklaces, innumerable rings and bracelets, and a -woman's tiara of rubies and diamonds. And from this latter--the rubies -and diamonds being set alternately--one of the former was missing. - -"Alas!" said Bertie aside to his brother captain, "that proves nothing -as regards my poor friend. He possessed no jewels, nor, in the world, -one-half of that money. He had nought but his pay and a little allowed -him by the Scot's Fund. These men may be his murderers, but all this -is the result of another robbery--perhaps another murder." - -"Nevertheless," said the captain of the guard, "we will hear their -story. Observe, a stone is missing from the tiara, and such a stone -was found where your friend was slain." Then turning to the two -fellows before them, he said curtly, "Now, your account of yourselves. -And explain your possession of all this," and he swept his hand over -the plain guardroom table, whereupon the money and the jewellery had -been temporarily placed. - -"Explain!" exclaimed the man who was called D'Aunay and who appeared -to be the boldest of the two--while he regarded the captain with an -assumed air of fierceness and disdain. "Explain! What shall I explain? -That we are two gentlemen of Gascony." - -"_Sans doute_," the captain muttered under his teeth. - -"_Oui, monsieur, sans doute_," repeated the fellow, who had overheard -his whisper. "Of Gascony, I repeat. From Tarbes, and resident at -Paris." - -"Amiens scarcely lies on the route between those places," the captain -remarked quietly. - -"Permit that I make myself clear. We had been to your great fair in -this fine city, and, by St. Firmin, had much enjoyed ourselves and -were riding back to Paris when, by great misfortune, my friend, who -suffers much from a painful and distracting vertigo, fell from his -horse. Naturally, I remained to solace and console him, and 'twas -there that your sergeant--who, you will pardon me for saying, -possesses not manners of the highest refinement and appears to combine -the calling of a _mouchard_ with that of a soldier--burst in upon our -privacy, and has added to his insults by dragging us back here." - -"You have your papers, doubtless?" the captain asked. - -"Doubtless--at Paris. They are there." - -"Is it usual for gentlemen of--of Gascony to travel with such -jewellery and gems as these?" - -"_Monsieur le capitaine_," said the man named D'Aunay, "you will -pardon me if I say that it is usual for gentlemen of Gascony to do -precisely whatever it seems best to them. At the same time they are -respecters most profound of the law. Therefore, monsieur, if you have -had any complaint of jewellery stolen, I am willing to give a more -full account of that which is in our possession." - -He was a bold villain--yet, perhaps, more of a crafty one. On the road -from Paris to Amiens his sharpness had gathered something from the -troopers, chatting among themselves, of what they were being brought -back for, and he knew that it was for murder, and not robbery, that -they were wanted. Therefore, being innocent of the former, he brazened -it out as regards the latter, though all the while thinking that there -was, probably, as great a hue and cry after those who had robbed the -man near the cathedral as those who had murdered the other one. - -That the captain of the guard was nonplussed his equally sharp eyes -saw at once; and he drew himself up a little more to his full height -and regarded the other with a still more assured air of haughty -disdain. However, the captain went on: - -"There was a murder committed five nights ago in the Place de la -Cathédrale----" - -"_Nom d'un chien!_" interrupted D'Aunay, "is it murder we are accused -of next? Excellent! Go on, monsieur. There are still other crimes in -the decalogue." - -"No, you are not accused of it. But circumstances require explanation. -First to me, afterwards, perhaps, to the law. One circumstance is that -in your jewellery," and he emphasised the "your" very strongly, "there -is a stone, a ruby, missing from the tiara. Now----" - -"It is found?" exclaimed the cunning vagabond, with an admirable -assumption of gladness. "Ha! that is well, monsieur; these are joyous -tidings. That tiara was my mother's, La Marquise d'Aunay. I am indeed -thankful." - -"It was found on the spot where the murder took place--the spot where -the victim's body was also found." - -"_Vraiment!_ And that spot was----?" he asked, with still greater -coolness. - -"I shall not tell you. Indeed, it would be best for you to say what -spots you were in on that night." - -"On that night; monsieur speaks of which night?" - -"The 28th. The last night of the fair." - -"The 28th! Jacques, _mon ami_," to his friend, "correct me if I forget -to mention any place we visited. _Vonons_. We supped at nine--_tiens_, -the _paté de canard_ was excellent; we must instruct our cook in Paris -to attempt one. Then we visited the theatre, a vile representation of -'_Les Précieuses_,' I assure you, monsieur. Next, because in Gascony we -never forget, amidst all our troubles of after years, our early -religious instruction, we decided to attend the evening service at La -Cathédrale; there was a large and reverent crowd, monsieur----" - -"_Dame!_" exclaimed the captain, turning to Bertie; "I can do nothing -with the fellow." Then, re-addressing D'Aunay, he said: - -"I have finished with you, sir. Your next examination will be before -the Procureur du Roi," and he ordered the two "gentlemen of Gascony" -to be confined in the guardhouse until that official should -interrogate them. - -Yet they were too much even for this astute old lawyer, who had -learned his craft in Paris in the Law Courts of the Grand Monarch, as -they had learned theirs in half the gaols of France. - -D'Aunay insisted first on knowing who charged them with having stolen -the jewellery; where the person was who had lost it or had it stolen; -and if the unhappy young man who had been so monstrously and cruelly -done to death was known, or even supposed, to have been possessed of -any similar jewellery? Having achieved victory over the Procureur in -this respect, in the doing of which he exhibited such virtuous -indignation, accompanied by strange exclamations and shrugs and -hangings of the bench in front of him, as to nearly terrify the -representative of the law into releasing him, he began on a new tack. - -"Summon the good woman," he exclaimed, "who saw the murder done. By -St. Firmin, if she says one of us is the man, then to the wheel with -us! Also call the watch at the southern gate; if he in turn says that -we did not pass through ere midnight--I hear the excellent female -places the assassination after the first quarter past the hour had -struck--then, I say, to the wheel with us! _Sacré nom d'un chien!_ -were ever gentlemen treated thus before? _Sacré mille tonnerres_, is -this France in which we are?" - -The woman was summoned, and instantly replied, "No, neither of the -messieurs before her was the man. No resemblance whatever. She was -certain. That face she could never forget. It was a devil's. On her -most sacred oath, neither were concerned in the awful scene." - -The watchmen at the gate affirmed that both men passed out before -midnight struck--the hour for the gate to close on _fête_-days. There -was no possibility of his being mistaken--one, the big man, swore at -him for having half closed the gate, thinking the last person had gone -through for that night; the other insulted him and jeered at him, and -flung a sou at his feet. - -"So," said the old Procureur du Roi, "you seem free of this crime. -Yet, I misdoubt me but you are the lawful prey of the gibbet. The -sergeant heard you speaking of your plunder. That you have stolen the -jewellery no one can doubt----" - -"Produce the owner," interrupted D'Aunay, on whom a clear light had -now dawned. "We ask nothing but that." - -"Also you swear by St. Firmin. He is a saint of Picardy, not of the -south of France." - -"It would be strange if I did not swear by him. In the few hours we -were here we heard everyone we met swear terribly by him. He must, -indeed, be a saint of Picardy--_surtôut_ of Amiens." - -"Also," went on the judge, "you spoke truth when you said you had been -to the theatre and to the Cathedral----" - -"Naturally, monsieur. It is ever my habit. To shun the truth is -impossible to me." - -"But your actions were suspicious. Both at the theatre and the -cathedral you were observed to place yourselves, to force yourselves, -nearest to those who presented the appearance of greatest wealth----" - -"_Finissons!_" roared D'Aunay now in virtuous indignation. "Enough. -Produce more tangible reasons for this detention, these insults, or -release us. Your charges have all fallen to the ground; you now begin -a fresh one equally baseless. Yet, because I love justice and respect -the law--its administrators I cannot always respect--if anyone has -been robbed at either theatre or church, bring them forward, and we -will meet that charge too." - -"You will be released," said the Procureur; "you are now free. But the -jewellery will be retained for the present. Later on it may be -returned to you." - -So, not without many protestations, the fellows went away from Amiens, -D'Aunay breathing maledictions against the barbarous laws which -permitted honest gentlemen to be arrested and their property -confiscated. Yet, he swore, the end was not yet arrived at; when they -reached Paris they would soon set the highest legal authorities at -work. Also he edified the good people of Amiens by the tenderness and -care with which he assisted his suffering friend to mount his horse. - -Later in that day they halted for an evening meal on the cool grass at -the wayside, and, as D'Aunay helped his comrade from his wallet, he -said: - -"Jacques, _mon ami_, observe always the advantage of truth. Had I not -mentioned our visit to the cathedral in the earlier part of the -evening that cursed ruby would almost have sunk us." Then he wagged -his head and took a drink of wine. - -"Yet," he continued, "I understand it not. Let us consider. We took -the plunder close by the cathedral. In front of the cathedral that -other one was slain. None claim the jewels---_peste!_ 'tis hard to -lose them. What do you make of it?" - -"A fool can see," replied Jacques, as he shifted his wounded leg into -an easier position. "Any fool can see that. It was our friend who----" - -"Precisely," said D'Aunay. "Precisely. _Allons!_ To Paris." - -"And the ruby fell out when we were examining the spoil!" - -"Again, precisely. And remember, Jacques, that if we ever meet our -friend who once owned the jewels it would be worth while attacking -him. Also, above all, Jacques, remember the truth is best. _Allons!_ -To Paris!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -"WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" - - -After that all hope was given up of discovering who had murdered -Douglas. From the first, from the moment Bertie saw the jewels taken -from the two vagabonds by the sergeant, he felt that neither of them -were the culprits. Yet, all asked each other whenever they met, "If -not these scoundrels, who then?" - -"He had no enemy in France, in the world," said Bertie, as they sat -one night in the lodgings which Kate had hired for her father and -herself. "Why, why should any creature have taken his life? In his -regiment he was most popular--nay, beloved. Oh! oh! I cannot -understand it." - -And now, since, as has been said, the summer was waning--for Douglas -had been dead three months when they talked thus--their little circle -was about to be broken up once more. One was gone for ever, they said -in whispered tones, he could never come back; could those who still -remained be once more united after they separated at Amiens? - -Bertie, with his troop and one other of the Regiment of Picardy, was -to proceed to St. Denis; Kate and her father were to go to Paris; -Archibald was to remain behind at Amiens. - -Over the latter a great change had come since his brother's death. He -had always been a quiet and reserved man--perhaps from the very nature -of his calling--one who never said more than was absolutely necessary -to any person on any subject; now he seemed to have retired entirely -within himself and to have but two things in this world to which his -life was devoted: his Faith, and his determination to find the -murderer of Douglas. - -"And," he said to Bertie, "I shall do it. Have no fear of that. I -shall do it. I have now an idea--though an idea of so strange, so -extraordinary a nature, that I hardly dare to let myself believe that -it can ever take a tangible shape." - -"And may I, may Kate, know nothing of that idea? Remember how we both -loved him." - -"No," Sholto replied. "No. It may come to nothing--must, it almost -seems certain, come to nothing. Yet, if the secret can be unravelled, -I will find the way to do it. Then, when I am sure, if ever I am, you -shall know all. Nay, you will most assuredly know all." - -"Will you tell us--tell me--no more than this?" asked Bertie. - -"I will tell you nothing. It is possible I may be mistaken; more than -possible. If I am not, then you will know." - -And with this the other had to be content, and to prepare to proceed -to his new quarters outside Paris. - -The Jesuit's idea was, indeed, one about which he might well -say that he could not believe it should ever assume a tangible -shape. It was nothing else than that he believed he had seen those -jewels--especially that tiara--before. - -He had examined them many times since they had been taken away from -D'Aunay and his companion and kept in the custody of the Mayor of -Amiens--had turned them over and over in his hands; scrutinised the -settings to see if he could observe any mark or inscription upon them. -But there was nothing--no coronet engraved inside the tiara with a -name, or initials, such as might well have been looked for in such -costly gewgaws--nothing! Yet the tiara forced itself upon his memory, -seemed to be a thing he had seen before--worn upon a woman's head at -some great ceremony. Especially he seemed to remember one diamond to -the extreme left of the diadem, a yellow, light brown stone that had -flashed out a different light from its fellows beneath the gleams of -many-lustred candelabras. But where? Where? Where? - -"Almost," he whispered to himself, "I seem to see, as through a mist, -the head, the face that was beneath it. Dark hair, grizzled grey; pale -olive complexion; lines of care. Who was it? Who? If I could remember -that." - -At night as he lay upon his truckle bed, or as he walked by the banks -of the Somme, or held the jewels in his hands--for more than once he -went to see them--he mused on all this. Nay, when the memory of his -beloved brother and his cruel death was more than usually strong upon -him, he would ponder upon the idea that was ever in his mind as he -stood at night, solitary and alone, in the Place de la Cathédrale -before the great west door, and on the very spot where his loved one -had fallen. But still memory failed him, or, as he came near believing -now, he was the sport of a delusion. - -Practised by long training in every mental art, he took next to -recalling each scene of splendour--for in some such scene it was, he -felt sure, that he had seen that gleaming hoop worn, if he had ever -seen it at all--in which he had ever taken part from the time he had -been ordained a priest, from the time when, an ardent enthusiast of -the Stuart cause, he had mixed in the great court circles. Scenes at -Versailles, at Marly and Vincennes, St. Germain and Fontainebleau--for -he had been amidst them all--were recalled carefully, yet still the -phantom of the dark-haired woman with the threads of grey running -through that hair evaded him. He had known so many such, he told -himself, wearily; had seen so many women to whom jewels and adornments -were the natural accompaniments, that, perhaps, it was not strange he -should forget. Also, he reflected, how easy for him, who had seen -countless jewelled head-dresses worn, to imagine that he remembered -this particular one! - -Yet he could swear he remembered that yellow, brown diamond! - -Tortured thus by his struggles with the dim shadows of his memory, he -bade farewell to the others as they departed, and left him alone in -the city so bitterly dear to him. - -"Farewell, Kate," he said, "farewell. God bless you! You are -separated, as I think, for ever from a man utterly unworthy of you; -yet you have still the consolation of being without dishonour--ay, -without speck or blemish. He will never trouble you again, I do -believe. Let him, therefore, go his evil way, and go you yours in -peace and happiness. I would that I could see a way to your obtaining -the one happiness that should belong to you; wish it for your sake and -Bertie's. But it cannot be. Not yet, at least. Therefore bear up. -Heaven in its mercy will, I know, protect and prosper you." - -"Good-bye, good-bye, Archie," Kate replied, as she sobbed -unrestrainedly. "Oh, how unhappy we are! We looked forward to so much -in this meeting here, and see--see how it has ended! Shall we ever be -happy again?" - -"In Heaven's mercy," he said, "in Heaven's mercy." Then he kissed her -on the brow, shook hands with her father, and went his way back to his -gloomy life, and now still more gloomy thoughts. Yet never in those -thoughts--no, not even though they had sometimes spoken of the man -himself--did it dawn upon him that here was the one who might be the -murderer of Douglas. - -Bertie was already gone, the two troops of the Regiment of Picardy -having marched out a day or so before, the blare of their trumpets and -the clatter of the horses' hoofs having awakened the city early. And -he had seen Kate--dawn though it was--glancing from her window to look -at him, to wave him her farewell. - -"Yet," he had said to her overnight, "it must not be for long, Kitty. -It seems to me that we grow nearer to one another as trouble falls--at -least, there can be no assassin's knife to come between us. Kate, I -shall come and see you as often as I can get leave to visit Paris; -even though you are in a King's--a future King's--house, as I still -hope--I may come. Is it not so?" - -"Yes," she said, "you may come always. Oh, Bertie, we are parted for -ever--our lives, our hopes, all--yet if I could not sometimes see you, -know that you are well, happy--you will be happy, will you not, when -this great sorrow is eased by time?--I think I should die. Surely it -cannot be wrong, remembering what we once were to each other, what we -once were to have been, to wish to know and hear of you." - -"What we once were to have been!" he repeated, in almost a whisper. -"To have been. O Kate! O Kate! Those plans, those projects for the -future!" His voice broke and failed him as he continued: "You have not -forgotten them! Kate, do you remember how once we pictured ourselves -growing old together, how we meditated on the time that should come -when, our lives done with, we should rest together in some calm and -peaceful grave?" - -"No," she said, "no," and sprang to her feet excitedly. "No! -no! no! I will not remember--will recall nothing, for if I do -I shall go mad. Remember nothing--'tis best so. Go, Bertie -Elphinston, go to your duties, as I will go to mine. Let us forget -everything--except--except----" she faltered, changing in a moment -womanlike--"that it was I who ruined and cursed both our lives." - -He soothed her as best he could, reproaching himself for having -revived such memories; reproaching himself, too, for the silence that -had led to her believing him false. And once he said, as he had said -in England when first they met again: - -"Mine was the fault, let mine be the blame. Yet, unhappily, both have -had to suffer. Surely something must arise to end that suffering ere -long." - -He did not know it, could not, indeed, know it; yet the end was far -off still. There were more vigils of sorrow to be kept by both, more -grief and pain to be endured. - -Nor when she said between her tears, "If we were to be parted again -now, if I should never see your face more, my heart would break," -could she know what lay in front of them--black, dark, and lowering. - -Her future was in a way provided for. The Cardinal Tencin, in spite of -being somewhat out of favour now and retired to his archbishopric of -Lyons--for when a French prelate was in disgrace his punishment was -that he should attend to his diocese instead of being in Paris!--had -still entire influence over the exiled Stuarts. Therefore it was to -him that Archibald Sholto applied on behalf of Kate, and through him -that she was to be appointed to the small court now being formed round -Charles Edward in Paris. - -That unhappy prince--though fortunate in some things, especially in -his escape from Scotland after the rebellion--had now landed at -Roscort, three leagues west of Morlaix, from the "Bellona," of St. -Malo, and was safe once more in Paris. His adventures since the defeat -of Culloden had been truly marvellous, and his escapes not less so; -twice he was in danger of being shot, five times in danger of being -drowned, nine times he was pursued by men of war and armed vessels of -King George, and six times he escaped being captured by what seemed to -be miracles. Also he had been almost famished for want of food and -drink, and had had to lie out on the bare heaths or wild mountains and -to shelter in caves. - -Yet now he had entered Paris again, had been graciously welcomed by -the French King and Queen, and was in treaty for a fine house in the -Quartier St. Germain. It was to that house that Kate, with her father, -was to go, there to form two of his small court. - -At first when she took up her residence in it she was happy. She was -among friends she had known in Paris, many of them also comrades of -Bertie who had fought in the last invasion and themselves escaped. The -Lords Ogilvie and Elcho were there with the ladies of their family; -there, too, were old Lochiel and young Lord Lewis Gordon; the young -Lochiel also, and Captain Stafford, who had lain long in Newgate in -irons, yet was now escaped and free. - -Also she was happy because Bertie was able to come and see her, and on -one occasion, with all the others, including herself, accompanied the -prince when he went to pay his respects to Louis at Versailles. - -"Faith, Kate," he whispered to her on that evening, when, Charles -Edward being at supper with the royal family, they strolled together -up and down the mirrored galleries of the palace, "'tis even better -than the old days, were it not that dear Douglas has left us," and he -sighed. "But," he went on, "you are provided for--that, at least, is -well, or as well as things are ever likely to be." - -She said, "Yes, it is well, so far." Then she continued: - -"Still, Bertie, I am unhappy." - -"Unhappy?" - -"Yes. Unhappy because I never know when that man--my husband--may -cross my path again. Oh, if I could be sure I should never see him -more!" - -"At least he can never harm or annoy you. Have no fear of that. -Remember, he knows that Archibald and I are in Paris, and, of course, -believes that Douglas is here also. His dread of us will keep him -away. He will trouble you no more. And if he should come--which is of -all things most unlikely--why, I shall be near at hand to shield and -protect you." - -"You will always be near me?" she asked. "Always now? Oh, promise, -Bertie; promise me that you will never disappear again." - -"Of course, I promise. Why, where should I go to?" and he laughed as -he asked. "My life is now bound up with the regiment. Short of -campaigns nothing can take me far from you." - -"Yet," she replied, "I fear--fear always. It is only when you are near -that I feel safe--feel that I have one who is a brother to stand -between me and harm." - -"Yes," he said, "as a brother. It can never be anything else than that -now--yet, as a brother, I will not fail you." - -So they went back to Paris as they had come, the royal visit being -over. - -And then it seemed at last as if, with some few changes, things were -to be almost as they had once been, though it is true that, instead of -the old house in the Rue Trousse Vache, she and her father were lodged -in a mansion which was in fact a palace, that Douglas was gone out of -their life forever, and that she was a wife in name, though nothing -else. - -Bertie came at least once a week to Paris from St. Denis, both to pay -his respects to his prince--as he regarded always Charles Edward--and -also to see her, and brought her flowers from the gardens round that -old town. But he brought no news from Archibald as to his having been -successful in discovering who the murderer of Douglas was. The priest -had, indeed, written to them once or twice from Amiens, but he either -refrained from mentioning the subject at all, or, if he did so, said -that he could discover nothing, and that any idea he might have had on -the matter was, he now feared, a futile one. - -"I began to also fear," Bertie said, as he talked it over with Kate, -"that it was indeed a futile one--that never now will he be avenged. -Poor Douglas! Who could have desired his life--who have struck so foul -a blow?" - -"It must have been," she answered, "as we at first thought, a murder -in the hope of robbery afterwards." - -"Or," said Bertie, "as sometimes I think now, the offshoot of -another--an undiscovered murder. What if those vagabonds who called -themselves Gascon gentlemen had previously slain someone else who was -possessed of all that jewellery, and Douglas had come across them at -the time, and, in endeavouring to save that other, was slain himself?" - -"No," she said, "no. That is impossible. No other victim's body was -found, and there was no place where they could have hidden it away, -or, having hidden it, could not also have disposed of his. Besides, -remember: The woman--the concierge--saw only one other slay him, and -that other was neither of the Gascons. Nor was his sword drawn. No, we -must seek elsewhere for the solution of that crime." - -Thus they talked it over and over whenever they met. Surely it was -natural that they should do so, seeing how much he had been to them, -and how awful a blow his assassination was, but never did they arrive -at any thought or idea of who was the actual murderer. - -And, as they so discussed it day by day, the autumn departed as the -summer had done, and the winter was almost upon them. Already the -leaves lay in heaps at the roots of the trees, the swallows were all -gone, the nights were long and dark, and Douglas slept unavenged in -his grave. And still the troubles, the griefs and sorrows of this -luckless man and woman were not yet at an end. - -Another blow was still to fall upon them--it was close at hand now, -though they knew it not. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -"WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL--MYSELF AM HELL!" - - -It was the feast of St. Denys, the patron saint of France. - -Over all the land, from north to south and east to west, the churches -and cathedrals were crowded on that day with worshippers bringing -offerings and gifts to the altars, praying for the saint's aid to be -still continued to them, asking for pardon for past sins, for -prosperity in the future. On that day the King himself went in state -to Nôtre Dame, accompanied by his brilliant court. In the provinces, -governors of fortresses and of departments did the same thing at the -local cathedrals; prisoners were released because of the anniversary -of St. Denys, while some of the worst among them were executed--both -as an example, and because it was the great _fête_-day and a holiday -when other people required to be amused. - -In Amiens, as in all the other cities boasting a beautiful cathedral -and possessed of a strong religious element, it was the same as -elsewhere. From morning until night the bells clanged at intervals -from the towers of Nôtre Dame and the fourteen parish churches; -processions innumerable took place, masses of all kinds--Capitular, -Conventual, Missa Cantata, Missa Fidelium, Mass High and Low--were -said and sung, accompanied by Kyrie, Gloria, and Credo, by Sanctus, -Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. - -But at last all was over--of a religious nature. The crowds that had -filled Nôtre Dame d'Amiens were streaming out to other forms of -celebration of the _jour de Patron_. It was the turn of the theatres -now and the family gatherings, of the dance and song and jest among -the better classes; the turn of the supper party and the wineshop and -the _courtesan_ for the remainder of the day--or rather night. - -Yet, for those who still were willing to continue their religious -devotions, still to regard the occasion more as a fast than a feast, -the opportunity presented itself and was availed of by many. In every -church in the city, in the cathedral above all, worshippers still -knelt in prayer, though the hour grew late; at the confessionals -hidden priests still listened to the sins--real or imaginary--of those -who knelt before them. - -In that cathedral with, still lingering about it, the odour of the -incense that had been used that day, with the organ still pealing -gently through the aisles, while at intervals the _voix celeste_, in -flute-like tones, seemed almost to utter the soul's cry, "Oh, Agnus -Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere mihi!"--those confessors sat -there, and would sit until midnight struck, to listen to and absolve -all those who sought for pardon. - -"My son," came forth the muffled voice of one, his face being hidden -in the impenetrable darkness in which he sat--a darkness still more -profound since many of the lights in the great edifice had either been -extinguished or had burnt themselves out, "the confession is not yet -all made. Therefore, as yet there can be no absolution. Confess thy -sins! Continue!" - -Kneeling outside, the stricken creature thus addressed, its wild hair -streaming down its back and meeting with the other unkempt hair on -cheek and chin, its eyes gleaming, like a hunted animal's, around and -up and down the dusky aisles, and glancing at pillars as though -fearing listeners behind each, went on: - -"My life, oh, holy father, was in his hands. He knew all; knew I was -in France, and that he could give me up to justice to those whom I had -wronged. Oh, father, _mea culpa, mea culpa!_ Absolve me! absolve me!" - -"Tell first thy sin," the muffled voice said again. "Thou hast not yet -told all. Deceive not the Church. Confession first, then absolution." - -The penitent groaned and wrung his hands, threw back the locks from -his face, and then, with that face pressed close to the confessional, -hissed in a whisper: - -"Father, I was mad--am mad, I think. I was sore wrought; but half an -hour before I had been assaulted and robbed by two villains of much -wealth in jewels--and--and--I feared he would denounce me for my -crimes, make my presence known. So, holy father--in my frenzy, in my -fear--I struck him dead. I slew him. Have mercy on me, God!" - -"Where slew you him?" the priest's stifled voice continued. - -"There, father--without, by the west door. Oh, pardon, pardon, that -here, on holy ground that should be sanctuary, I took his life!" - -It seemed almost to the wretch outside the confessional that the -priest had uttered a gasp, had started in his seat, as he heard these -words; yet presently he spoke again: - -"The victim being the young Scots officer found murdered more than -three months past?" - -"'Tis so, holy father. 'Tis so. Oh, pardon! Pardon me! _Mea culpa, mea -culpa!_" - -"What restitution have you made?" the voice was heard to ask. "What -restitution propose to make?" - -"I know not what to make, father. I cannot call him back to life. What -can I, must I do?" - -"Have you wronged others--man, woman, or child? Think! trifle not with -the Church. There are, doubtless, others." - -"Oh, father, I have been an evil liver--a bad husband; bad friend. Set -my feet but in the right way! show me the path. And oh! father, -absolve me of this sin of blood. Above all, that!" - -"Confess all," the priest said, "confess all." - -Then, still shivering there, while more and more the shadows grew -within the great temple and it became more and more empty, the -wretched assassin went on, though ever and again glancing behind the -stately column and pillars as though fearing that unseen listener. He -told how, determined to gain possession of a woman whose beauty -maddened him--the more so because she despised him, or, at least, -regarded him not--he had tricked her into the belief that the man she -really loved had jilted her. Also how, when even that brought them no -nearer, he had married her. How, later on, when wearied and -exasperated by her hate and scorn, he had denied her as his wife, -hinting that he was himself a priest; yet it was a lie, for he was no -priest, having never been more that a lector. - -"Almost," came forth the confessor's voice again, "art thou beyond -absolution--beyond pardon." - -"No! no! no!" wailed the wretch. - -"Twice hast thou used our holy Church to aid in thy deceit. First, -when thou suborned a villain and caused him to pretend he had -performed the holy office of marriage; next, when thou falsely -claimedst the office of priest to disavow thy lawful wife. Man, how -shall I absolve thee? Yet, be more careful, or thy soul is lost for -ever. Hast thou done more evil than this, committed more outrages -against the Church?" - -Because, perhaps, the wretched creature was half mad with terror now, -with a new terror for his soul--whereas before he had but feared for -his body--he told all that he had done; how, indeed, he had still -further sinned against the Church in that he had set on foot a plot -having for part of its intent the ruin of a priest of that Church, a -Jesuit, one Sholto. It was all told at last. - -For so long did the confessor sit silent in his unseen place that the -miserable penitent, thinking no absolution would come forth to him, -began to tremble, even to weep, and to call on him again for pardon -and for pity. But at last the other spoke: - -"Art thou well-to-do in the world?" he asked. "What are thy means?" - -Yes, he said he was well-to-do; he had large means in both England and -France. What portion should he set aside to appease both God and the -Church? - -"All," answered the priest. "All." - -"All!" he gasped. "Go forth a beggar! - -"All. Ay, all. Better go forth a beggar, stand naked in the -market-place, than strip thy soul of its last chance of salvation." - -"All!" - -"To the last sol, the last dénier--excepting a provision for thy -unhappy wife. Thou art the shedder of blood, the blasphemer of the -Church and its holy offices, thy soul is clogged with guilt. I know -not, even then, and with all else that thou must do, if it can ever -find expiation." - -"Say not so, father; absolve me, pardon me! See! see! I will do it. -Before God I swear, in this His house, that I will do it! I will -become a beggar, part with all. Only, father, give me His pardon. -Pardon, and set me free!" - -"Yet, still more," said that voice, "must thou do. Listen!" - -And from his lips there fell so deep a charge that the murderer, -kneeling there, knew that to save his soul in heaven he must forego -all hopes of future peace on earth. Nevermore was he to touch meat nor -aught but the coarsest black bread, never drink but water, never sleep -soft, nor lie warm again. And there was worse even than that. He was -to go forth to wild, savage parts of the world, there to pass the rest -of his existence in trying to preach God's goodness and mercy to the -heathen who knew Him not. On the promise that he would do this the -priest would give him absolution; otherwise he would refuse it, and -his soul must go to everlasting perdition. - -He promised, and he was absolved! - -Still sitting there, the last in the cathedral that night--for all -were gone now except those who were to guard it until midnight had -struck--he became the prey of even worse horrors than he had been -before; he was absolved as regards his soul, yet into his mind a new -fear had arisen for his body--a fear that became a spectre. He had -thought that once or twice he had recognised in the tones of the -priest's voice some that were familiar to him; now he felt sure that -they were. He had confessed to his bitterest enemy on earth--to -Archibald Sholto! to the brother of the man whom he had murdered! - -This was the meaning of the awful doom passed on him--the doom of -ruin, beggary, and starvation, of expatriation to wild and savage -lands. To him! He had confessed to him of all others! Yet, was it so, -or was he, in truth, mad? He had heard of madmen who knew that they -were mad and who could yet be so cunning as to contend with that -madness, wrestle with it, subdue it--for a time. Let him do so now. -Let him think it all out. Was it, in truth, Archibald Sholto? - -It might well be. - -For three months he had been in hiding in a small village near Amiens, -watching over the course of events connected with his assassination of -Douglas, avoiding, above all others, yet keeping them ever under his -own view, two persons. One was Archibald, the other the woman who had -seen his face on that night--the white-faced woman in the darkened -room who had raised her finger and pointed as he did the deed. - -"Avoided them," he muttered now, as he sat there in the dark, watching -the sacred lamp that burned unceasingly above the high altar, but -still engaged always in peering into the deep shadows and blackness in -which the huge pile was now enveloped--"avoided them. O God, how have -I avoided them! Yet, drawn irresistibly to where they were. Little -does he know how I have seen him officiating at his own church, or she -how I have passed her close, though unseen; even peered into her room -at night from the street, when, dragged here by--by--the fierce desire -to stand again upon the spot where--where he fell. Once, too, she -felt, unwittingly, my presence. As I brushed against her in the street -she shuddered and drew back from me. Something revealed that one -accursed had touched her." - -He moaned aloud as he sat there, his head buried in his hands; then, -because his mind was now disordered and he was half mad, half sane, a -smile came on the evil face that he turned up as the moon's rays came -through the great rose window and lighted all the nave. "Yet," he -murmured, "it was in the confessional under the seal of confession. If -it was Douglas's brother, he can do naught. Naught! Confession is -sacred. That seal cannot be broken. But was it he? Was it? Was it? - -"His face I could not see, but the tones were like unto his," he -continued. "And once he started--I am certain of it. O God, have I -told his brother all? His brother! His brother!" - -Above, from the great tower, there boomed the striking of the -hour--midnight. And again he shuddered and moaned and whispered with -white lips: - -"The very hour, the hour that I cannot hear, can never hear again, -without agony and horror unspeakable. The hour told by the same clock -that told it on that night of blood. I must go," he wailed in low, -broken tones, "must go there. He draws me to the spot; I see his -finger beckoning me nightly. His eyes met mine once, a month ago, as I -reached Paris. I thought I was free and had escaped, yet they dragged -me back to this accursed spot. I must go. I must go. He waits for me. -Ever--ever when the moon is near her full. I am absolved by him, his -brother, yet he is always beckoning me and makes me go." - -A hand fell on his shoulder as he sat there, and he started up with -almost a shriek, and with his own hand thrust in his breast--perhaps -to draw some hidden knife, perhaps to still the leap his heart gave. - -"Monsieur," a voice said, the voice of the old sacristan, "permit that -I disturb your pious meditations. But all are gone now, including the -priests. The cathedral is about to close." - -"Yes, yes," he muttered low, "I will go. I will go. I have stayed too -long." - -"By the west door, if it pleases monsieur. It is the only one open." - -"The west door," the terrified creature muttered as he left the old -man putting out the last remaining lights, and so made his way towards -the exit indicated. "By the west door. It must needs be that. It is -the nearest to the spot, and he will be there waiting for me, the -moonlight shining in his glittering eyes as he beckons me to him, the -glare of reproach in them. I must go. I must go." - -Down the long aisle he crept, shaking as with a palsy as he went, -starting and almost crying out again as a bat flew by and brushed his -hair with its wings, going onward to what he dreaded to see, the -phantom of the murdered man which his distracted brain conjured up -nightly. - -"He will be there," he muttered again. "He will be there." - -He reached the great west door--striking against the bell ropes -hanging in the tower, and gasping at the contact--and then paused at -the wicket let into the door, dreading to go out through it to meet -the ghostly figure that he knew awaited him. - -Still, it must be done, and with another gasp, a smothered groan, he -stepped out through the wicket into the shadow thrown by the cathedral -wall, and gazed upon the moon-illuminated spot where Douglas had -fallen dead. - -And once more he smothered a shriek that rose to his lips. - -Standing above that spot, its back to him, but as he could tell by the -bent head, gazing down upon it, there was the figure of a man--a man -still as death itself; a man bare-headed. - -"You have come again," he hissed in terror. "Again! Again! Mercy! -Mercy!" - -Swiftly the figure turned and faced him--its eyes glistening in the -moonlight as he had said--and advanced towards him. - -"Douglas!" he screamed. "Douglas! Mercy!" - -"No," the figure said. "No. Not Douglas. Archibald." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -AVENGED. - - -He had fallen grovelling to the earth as that figure turned its face -towards him, and now he remained in the same position. - -As he did so Archibald Sholto knew for certain that he had found his -brother's murderer. In the moment of witnessing that frenzied terror -there had flashed into his mind the knowledge of who had been the -wearer of the tiara with the one yellow-brown diamond in it; the -recognition of the dark head streaked with grey with which his -thoughts had been filled for weeks, yet without certainty--the head of -the murderer's late mother! He knew all now. She it was who had worn -the diadem in the great ceremonies he had taken part in; the -rejoicings at the peace of '38, the almost equally great rejoicings at -the death of the Emperor Charles, and many others. She, Lady -Fordingbridge, his mother, had worn it often; often had he observed -the strange light emitted by that blemished jewel; and now, from the -tiara in which it still remained, a ruby was missing, and had been -found on the spot where his brother had been done to death. Therefore -he knew that that brother's assassin was before him. God had given him -into his hands. - -He bent forward over the crouching creature at his feet; in a low -voice he said: - -"So, I have found you, Simeon Larpent. Even though you are armed -to-night as you were on that other night; even though you bear about -you the weapon with which you slew him, you cannot escape me." - -"You can do nothing," the other said, turning up an evil eye at him -and then rising to his feet--"nothing! Your tongue is sealed. What I -confessed was under the sanctity of the confessional; you dare tell -naught." - -At once the Jesuit's clear mind grasped the facts--at once he -perceived that the murderer had been cleansing his soul before a -confessor--and thought that he was that confessor. - -"I told you all," Fordingbridge went on, "all, all. And you absolved -me, pardoned me, though the punishment you meted out to me was hard. -Have you not vengeance enough? To go forth a beggar and an outcast--to -wander in savage lands until I die--surely, surely, that is enough. -Let me go in peace." - -"Not yet," Archibald Sholto answered; "not yet." - -"Not yet!" the other repeated. "Not yet! What more would you have? All -is told--you know all now. Shall I repeat what I said in there? I slew -him here upon this spot because he would have warned you and -Elphinston that I was in France, and--you absolved me. It is enough." - -"You slew him here upon this spot," the Jesuit said, and he pointed -with his finger to the place, "upon this spot. You acknowledge it?" - -"Have I not said? You have absolved me." It was strange how, from the -repetition of this phrase, he seemed to take comfort. "You have -absolved me." - -"You are mistaken," the other said, while as he spoke he drew nearer -to the murderer, though keeping ever a wary eye upon him. "Mistaken! I -have heard no confession for a week." - -"What!" exclaimed Fordingbridge, springing back a step or so, while -now his eyes glared round the deserted cathedral place--again like the -eyes of some hunted or trapped wild beast. "What! It was not you in -there? Not you!" - -"No. Not I. Simeon Larpent, you are doomed. You divulged your crime -under the seal of the confessional in the cathedral; you have divulged -it openly here with no such seal to protect you. Murderer! You are in -my power!" - -As he spoke he saw the other do that which he had been anticipating. -He saw his hand steal to his breast; he knew that he was searching for -some weapon concealed there. But he feared him not; he, too, was -armed. Ever since he had sought for the assassin he had carried about -with him a small pistol, knowing that if, by any strange chance, -fortune should throw him across the villain's path, such weapon might -be needed. To-night he had come out to gaze again on the place where -the deed had been done, never thinking, never dreaming, that there of -all places on the earth that murderer should be found, yet not -neglecting the precaution of being armed. Now that precaution stood -him in good stead. - -"Draw no hidden weapon from your breast," he said, as he saw the hand -go to it; "remember, I am not as Douglas was, but am forewarned; and -if you bring forth one, I will slay you here on the spot as you slew -him, and save the hangman his office," and as he spoke he showed the -other the little inlaid pistol, its barrel glistening in the moon's -rays. - -"You know nothing," the other hissed at him now, "nothing. I have told -you nothing--you have no witnesses. My word is as good as yours, even -if I let you take me--which I will not," he continued, "which I will -not." - -"No witnesses?" said Archibald; "no witnesses? Nay, look behind you. -Look! I say. No other witness is required." - -Affrighted at his words--thinking, perhaps, that the terrible spectre -that haunted him always now might be standing menacingly behind -him--he glanced round, and what he saw struck nearly as much horror to -his crime-laden brain as could have done the ghost of his victim. - -Advancing from an open door by the side of the cathedral there came a -woman, her face white as any ghost's or leper's, her eyes distended, -her hand uplifted and pointing at him. Indeed, so appalling was her -ghastliness, the whiteness of her face being made doubly so by the -rays of the moon falling upon it, that the dazed, stricken creature -hid his own face in his hands and recoiled as she advanced. - -"It is he," she said. "It is he. Nightly almost he comes when the moon -is up. Seize on him, seize him! Let him never escape again," and still -she pointed at the man shivering between them. - -"Fear not," Archibald said. "Fear not." Then turning to Fordingbridge, -while he held the pistol pointed at him, he continued: "Come! -Resistance is useless. I have sworn here, upon this spot, to avenge -Douglas; I will keep my oath. Till you stand upon the scaffold you are -mine." - -"He has a weapon to his hand," the woman said, still with her own -pointing at him as if it were the hand of Fate. "See!" Then, as though -she were one inspired, she said, as she turned to him, "Give me the -knife." - -Whether his mind was gone at last, or whether fear had so overcome -Fordingbridge that he was no longer master of his actions, Sholto was -never able to decide. Yet, from whichever cause it was, he obeyed his -ghastly denouncer in so far that, as she spoke to him, the dagger -dropped to the earth. And she, picking it up, placed it in the -priest's hands, saying: - -"It is borne in on me that with this he slew that other one. I feel -it--know it." - -"You will testify that he is the murderer?" Sholto said. "You do not -doubt?" - -"Doubt!" she exclaimed, turning her wan, white face on him. "Doubt! -How should I doubt? He has haunted me since that awful night--haunted -me, almost driven me to my death. Oh, you know not! I have risen at -night from my bed to see him standing there, muttering, grimacing over -that very spot, so that, as I gazed on him from out the darkness of my -room, I have swooned again as on that night I swooned. Had I been a -man, nay, had I had a man to call on, I would have gone forth and -seized him. Yet, when I have told others that nightly, almost, the -murderer came and gloated over the space where he slew the other, they -derided me, said I was mad, would not even watch themselves. Oh, the -horror of it! the horror of it!" - -"The horror is ended for you now, poor woman," the priest said. "Never -more will he affright your sight when you rise from your bed. Yet do -me one service, I beg you. Put on some clothes, for the night air gets -cold"--she had, indeed, come forth from her room--where she had again -been watching in terror, fearing to see another murder--in little else -than her night raiment--"and go fetch the watch. I will see that he -escapes not." - -The woman went away at his request, and coming out from the house, at -which she was the concierge, with a cloak thrown over her shoulders, -sped down the darkened streets, while once more the avenger and his -prey were left alone. But they spoke no more to one another now; only -stood there silent, facing each other. Yet once, after a few moments' -pause, Fordingbridge chuckled audibly and whispered to himself. God -only knows what was in the wretched man's mind as he did so; -Archibald, at least, made no attempt to discover. - -For himself he was contented. Fate had thrown into his hands the -assassin of his beloved brother--that was enough. - -Presently the woman came back, and with her three of the watch, armed -and with a lantern borne in the hands of one, and into their custody -the Jesuit gave Fordingbridge. Yet, since he could not feel at ease -until he had seen the other safe under lock and key, he accompanied -them to the prison--to which the guardhouse was attached--and handed -him over to the officials there. - -"To-morrow," he said, "I will formally lay my charge against him -before the Procureur du Roi; till then, I pray you, keep him safe. He -is the murderer of the young Scotch officer who was slain outside the -cathedral, and was my brother, as all Amiens knows." - -"Never fear, monsieur," said the chief of the watch; "we will keep him -safe enough. Our cage is strong." - - * * * * * * * - - -A few nights later than the one on which the murderer, Fordingbridge, -had been taken to the prison, Bertie Elphinston, riding up to the -northern gate of Paris, demanded admission. It was a cold, raw night -this--one of those October evenings common enough to the north of -France, when the moisture hangs like rain-drops on every bush and -bramble, and when the rawness penetrates to the inside of man, making -him think of drams of brandy and Nantz as the best preventive of chill -and cold. - -He would not have ridden in to-night, would not have left the -comfortable fire in the officers' quarters of the St. Denis Caserne to -splash through six miles of wet roads, only it was Thursday, the day -on which he invariably went to Paris, partly to pay his respects to -Charles Edward, partly to see his mother and Kate. Also, if he did not -come on Thursday there was no other opportunity for him to do so for a -week; there were only the officers of two troops quartered in the old -town, and but one night a week granted to each for leave. Therefore he -was loath to lose his turn, and to go a whole fortnight without seeing -the two creatures dearest to him in the world. - -"A rough, raw night," he said to the man at the gate as he passed in, -"a night better for indoor pleasures than the streets. You have the -best of it," glancing in at the bright fire in the man's room, "much -the best of it." - -"_Mais out, Monsieur le Capitaine_," said the custodian--who knew him -very well--following his glance as it rested on the blazing hearth and -his little girl playing with a pup before it. "_Mais oui_." Then he -said, as Bertie stooped down to tighten the buckle of his stirrup -leather, "Was monsieur expecting, _par hazard_, to meet anyone -hereabouts to-night? Any friend or person with a message?" - -"No," replied Elphinston, partly in answer to his question, partly in -surprise. "No one. Why do you ask?" - -The man shrugged his shoulders in the true French manner, then he -said: - -"Oh, for no serious reason--but," and he paused and then went on -again: "There came yesterday an unknown one to me who asked how often -Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston rode into Paris. I knew not your name -then, monsieur, but his description was graphic, very graphic, so that -at once I knew he meant you. Moreover, the other officers of -monsieur's regiment come not so regularly on any day, some come not at -all." - -"'Tis strange," Bertie said; "I know no one who need ask for me in -this mysterious manner, especially as there is no mystery about me. My -life is simple and open enough, I should suppose. Six days a week in -garrison at St. Denis, one night a week in Paris; there is not much to -hide." - -"So I told the man, Monsieur le Capitaine; not much to hide. -_Voyez-vous_, I said, here is the captain's life so far as I know it. -He rides in every Thursday evening about six of the clock, leaves his -horse, as I have heard him say, at an inn in the Rue St. Louis, sees -his friends, sleeps at the inn, and rides out of Paris again at six in -the morning to his duties. Not much mystery in that, _mon ami?_ I said -to him. Not much mystery in that." - -"And what did he say to you in return?" asked Bertie. - -"Little enough. Remarked that he had made no suggestion of mystery; -indeed, was not aware of any reason for such; only he desired to see -you. Asked if you wore your military dress, to which I answered _ma -foi!_ no. The uniform of the Regiment of Picardy was too handsome, the -cuirass too heavy for ordinary wear, the gold lace too costly; and -that monsieur was always well but soberly attired. Also that his -horse, a bright bay, was a pretty creature, as she is, as she is," -whereon he stroked the mare's muzzle affectionately, for he himself -was an old cavalryman and knew a good horse when he saw one. - -"Well," said Bertie with a laugh, "you have described me accurately, -so that my friend should know me when he sees me. However, I must not -linger here. Good-night. Good-night, _Bébé_," to the child playing -with the dog, both of whom he, who loved children and animals, had -long since made acquaintance with. - -As he rode through the narrow streets towards the inn where he always -put up for the night, he reflected that it might have been wise to ask -the gate-keeper for a description of the man who had been anxious to -obtain that of him; but since he had not done so there was no help for -it. Yet he could not dismiss from his mind the fact of the unknown -having inquired for him--and by name, too--nor help wondering who on -earth he could be. He pondered over every friend he could call to -mind, old comrades in the French King's service by whose side he had -fought, or comrades in the late English invasion; yet his meditations -naturally amounted to nothing. The man might have been one of them or -none of them, and, whoever he was, no amount of cogitation would -reveal him. He must wait and see what the mysterious inquirer might -turn out to be. - -He rode into the inn he used in the Rue St. Louis, put up his horse, -and after personally seeing it attended to--for it had done duty -before starting for Paris--went into the guests' room and made a -slight meal, after which he ordered a coach to be called to take him -to Passy, where his mother lived. - -Later, when Bertie Elphinston had disappeared from all human knowledge -from that night, the search that was made for him elucidated what had -been his movements and actions up to a certain point, after which all -clue was lost. What those movements were have now to be told. - -Quitting his mother after an hour's visit, he found the same coach -standing outside the _auberge_ in the street of the little suburb, -and, again hiring it, proceeded to the mansion of Charles Edward, on -the Quai de Théatin--to which he had removed from the Château de St. -Antoine, where he had resided for a short time as the guest of Louis -XV--and here he spent two more hours with his countrymen in attendance -on the prince, and with Kate. At this place he had finally dismissed -the coach, and as he left the house an episode arose which recalled to -his mind the unknown person who had inquired for him at the north -gate. - -As he descended the steps of the mansion he saw, to his surprise, -that, lurking opposite by the parapet which separated the Quai from -the river, was a man who had been standing near him when he hired the -coach outside his inn on the other side of the Seine, and who, still -more strangely, had been standing outside the inn at Passy when he -quitted his mother's house. - -That this man was following him was therefore scarcely to be doubted, -and, determined to see whether such was the case, he crossed the road, -stared under his hat, which was drawn well down over his features, and -then walked slowly on towards the Pont Neuf. Also, he took the -precaution of loosening his sword in its sheath. - -If he had had any doubts--which was not the case--they would soon have -been resolved, since, as he proceeded along the narrow footway by the -parapet, the man followed him at the same pace. Then, instantly, -Bertie stopped, faced around, and, walking back half-a-dozen paces, -said to him: - -"Monsieur has business with me without doubt. Be good enough to -explain it," and now he lifted his sword in its scabbard so that, -while he held the sheath in the left hand, his right grasped the -handle. - -"I--I----" the man stammered. "Yes, Monsieur Elphinston----" - -"Monsieur Elphinston! so you know me?" and a light flashed on his -mind. "Monsieur Elphinston. Ha! Perhaps it was you who inquired for me -at the north gate yesterday?" - -"Yes, monsieur," the man replied respectfully; "it was I who did so." - -"Who are you, then? What is your affair with me that you track me -thus?" - -"I am servant to Carvel, the exempt. I have orders to keep you in -view." - -"Servant to an exempt![5] What, pray, has an exempt to do with me?" -Bertie asked in astonishment. - -"That, monsieur," the man said, still very respectfully, "I cannot -say. I but obey my orders, do my duty. I received instructions that -you were to be kept under watch from the time you entered Paris, and I -am carrying them out--must carry them out." - -"Where is this exempt to be found, this man Carvel? We will have the -matter regulated at once. Where is he, I say?" - -"If monsieur would be so complaisant as to follow me--it is but across -the Pont Neuf--doubtless monsieur will make everything clear." - -"Lead on," Bertie said, "I will follow you, or, since you may doubt -me, will go first." - -"If monsieur pleases." - -At this period, and indeed for long afterwards, Paris was too often -the scene of terrible outrages committed on unprotected persons. -Men--sometimes even women--were inveigled into houses under one -pretence or another and robbed, oftentimes murdered for whatever they -might chance to have about them, and, frequently, were never heard of -again. That this was the case Bertie knew perfectly well, yet--even -after the mysterious murder of his friend at Amiens--he had not the -slightest belief that anything of a similar nature was intended -towards him. First, he was a soldier and known by the man behind him -to be one; he was armed, although now dressed as a civilian, and -therefore a dangerous man to attack. And, next, none who knew aught of -him could suppose that it would be worth while to endeavour to rob -him. The Scots officers serving in France were no fit game for such as -got their living by preying on their fellow-creatures. - -Still he could not but muse deeply on what could possibly be the -object of any exempt in subjecting him to such espionage, while at the -same time he hastened his footsteps over the bridge so as at once to -arrive at a solution of the matter. - -"Here is the bureau of Monsieur Carvel," said the spy, as on reaching -the northern side of the river he directed his companion to a house -almost facing the approach to the bridge; "doubtless he will explain -all." - -"Doubtless," replied Elphinston. "Summon him." - -The door was opened an instant after the man had rapped on it, and -another man, plainly dressed and evidently of the inferior orders, -though of a respectable type, admitted them to a room on the left-hand -side of the passage; a room on the walls of which hung several -weapons--a blunderbuss, a musquetoon or so, some swords--which Bertie -noticed were mostly of fashionable make with parchment labels attached -to them--and one or two pairs of gyves, or fetters. Also, on the walls -were some roughly-printed descriptions of persons, in some cases -illustrated with equally rough wood-cuts. - -"So!" said the man, looking first at the spy and then at Elphinston. -"So! Whom have we here?" - -"Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston," the other replied. "Learning, -Monsieur Carvel, your desire to meet with him from me, he elected to -visit you at once." - -"_Tiens!_ It will save much trouble. Monsieur le Capitaine is -extremely obliging." - -"Sir," said Bertie sternly, "I am not here with the intention of -conferring any obligation upon you. I wish to know why I, an officer -of the King, serving in the Regiment of Picardy, am tracked and spied -upon by your follower, or servant. I wish a full explanation of why I -am subjected to this indignity." - -"Monsieur, the explanation is very simple. An order signed by the -Vicomte d'Argenson has been forwarded to me for your arrest, and with -it a lettre de cachet." - -"A lettre de cachet!" - -"Yes, monsieur. A lettre de cachet, ordering me to convey you to the -Bastille." - -"My God!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -THE BASTILLE. - - -"La Bastille! où toute personne, quels que soient son rang, son âge, -son sexe, peut entrer sans savoir pourquoi, rester sans savoir -combien, en attendant d'en sortir sans savoir comment."--Servan. - - -"On what charge is that letter issued?" asked Elphinston a moment -later, when he had recovered somewhat from the stupefaction into which -the exempt's last words had thrown him. "On what charge?" - -"Monsieur," the man replied, "how can I answer you? Nay! who could do -so? Not even De Launey, the Governor, could tell you that. These -_billets-doux_ are none too explicit. They order us, the exempts, in -one letter to arrest; the Governor, in another, to receive. But that -is all. It is from the examiners, the judges, from D'Argenson himself, -wise child of a wise father! that you must seek an explanation." - -"But there is no possible reason for it, no earthly charge that can be -brought against me. It must be a mistake!" - -"So all say," the exempt exclaimed, repressing a faint smile that rose -to his features. "Yet, here is the name, very clearly written," and he -took from his pocket the lettre de cachet, impressed with a great -stamp, and read from it:--"'Elphinston. Scotch. Capitaine du Regiment -de Picardy. Troop Fifth, at St. Denis.' That is you, monsieur?" - -"Yes," Bertie said with a gasp. "It is I. No doubt about that." - -There rose before his mind, as he spoke, every story, every legend he -had ever heard in connection with the Bastille. And although it is -true that, in the days when that fortress existed, it was not regarded -in so terrible a light as time and fiction have since cast upon its -memory, it still presented itself in a sufficiently appalling aspect. -Men undoubtedly went in and came out after very short intervals of -incarceration--some doing so two or three times a year--yet, if all -reports were true, there were some sent there who never came out -again. Moreover, few who were committed could ever learn the reason -whereof until they were ultimately released, and no communication -whatever, except by stealth and great good fortune could be made with -the outer world. From the time the gates closed on them they were lost -to that outer world for the period--long or short--which they passed -there. This knowledge alone, without the aid of time and fiction, was, -indeed, sufficient to make Elphinston gasp. - -"When," he asked, after another pause for reflection on the state in -which he now found himself, "does that lettre de cachet come into -operation--when do you propose to put it into force?" - -"Monsieur," replied Carvel, with a swift glance at him and another at -the man standing behind, "it _has_ come into operation; it is already -in force." - -"You mean----?" - -"I mean that you have surrendered yourself without having to be sought -for--without having to be arrested. Please to consider it in that -light, monsieur." - -"To consider it in the light that I am to be conveyed to the Bastille -from here--at once?" - -"If monsieur pleases. Though not at once--not this immediate instant. -Monsieur de Launey prefers to receive those who are sent to him at -eight o'clock in the morning. That is his hour of reception." - -Again Bertie paused an instant, then said: - -"In such case I may advise my friends of this detention. It will ease -their minds--and it can be done before eight o'clock. It is now -scarcely midnight." - -"I regret to have to say No, monsieur," and Bertie started at his -reply. "Such would be against all order, all rule. From the moment the -persons named in the lettres de cachet are in our hands they can have -no further communication with their friends." - -"What if I refuse to comply with your demands--with the demands of -that lettre de cachet? What then, I say?" - -"Monsieur is here," the exempt replied, "that is sufficient. It is too -late for him now to retreat. We are furnished with attendants for -escorting to the Bastille those who are arrested; monsieur will -perceive it would be vain for him to contend against us. There are at -the present moment half-a-dozen such attendants in this house." - -"So be it," said Bertie, "I will not contend. Some absurd mistake has -been made that will be rectified as soon as I have seen the Governor." - -"_Sans doute_," replied the exempt; "meanwhile let me suggest to -monsieur that he should rest until it is necessary to set out. He may -yet have some hours of refreshing sleep." - -"I do not desire to sleep," Bertie said, "only to be left alone. Is -that impossible, too?" - -"By no means. We have a room here in which monsieur may remain at his -ease. But," and he pointed to the labelled swords hanging on the -walls, "it is our habit to disembarrass all who are brought here of -their weapons. Those who are arrested at their own houses or lodgings -leave them in custody there. But monsieur may rest assured of his -weapon being quite safe. If he comes out to-morrow or--or--or--a month -later, say, it will be at his service." - -"If," replied Bertie, taking off his diamond-cut civilian sword, "it -had been the weapon of my profession, you should never have had it. As -it is--take it." - -"Keep it carefully," said Carvel to his men, "until Monsieur le -Capitaine returns. I guarantee you 'twill not be long ere he does so. -I myself believe, monsieur, a mistake has been made. 'Tis not with -such metal as you that Madame la Bastille is ordinarily stuffed." - -After this, and on receiving Bertie's word of honour that he had no -other weapon of any kind, knife nor pistol, about him, he was shown -into a room at the back of the house, where the exempt told him he -would be quite undisturbed--a room the window of which, he noticed, -was cross-barred, and with, outside the window, a high blank wall. -Here he passed the night in reflections of the most melancholy nature, -wondering and wondering again and again on what unknown possibility -could have led to this new phase in his existence. At one moment--so -far afield did he have to go to seek for some cause for his arrest--he -mused, if by any chance Fordingbridge could have come to Paris and, -exercising some to him unknown influence, have procured the lettre de -cachet. Yet he was obliged to discard this idea from his mind as he -had discarded others, when he reflected that nothing was more unlikely -than that the minister of the King would have signed an order for the -incarceration of one Englishman at the request of another. But, with -this conjecture dismissed, he had to content himself and remain as -much in the dark as before. - -At seven o'clock the exempt came to him and told him that it was time -to set out. - -"A coach is ready, monsieur," he said, "all is now prepared. Would you -desire to make any toilette before your departure?" - -Bertie said he would, and when he had done this, laving his face and -washing his hands in a basin brought him by two of Carvel's -attendants, he announced that he was prepared to accompany him. - -"Perhaps when I have seen the Governor of the Bastille," he said, "I -shall better understand why I am confided to his keeping." - -To which once more the other replied, "_Sans doute_." - -Everything being therefore ready, Carvel and Elphinston entered the -coach, while, of four men who had appeared on the scene that morning, -two went inside with them, and the others, mounting horses, rode on -either side of the vehicle. In this way they progressed through the -small portion of the city necessary to be traversed, arriving at the -fortress exactly as the great clock over the doorway--decorated with a -bas relief representing two slaves manacled together--struck eight. -That their destination was apparent to those members of the populace -by whom they passed it was easy to perceive. Women and men, hurrying -to their shops and places of business, regarded the party with glances -which plainly showed that they knew whither they were going, the -former doing so with terrified and uneasy looks, the latter according -to their disposition. Of these, some laughed and made jeering -allusions to the morning ride which the gentleman was taking; some -frowned with disapproval; and some there were who muttered to one -another, "How long? How long shall we groan under the tyranny of our -masters?" while others answered, "Not for ever! It cannot be for ever, -though the good God alone knows when the end will come. Perhaps not -even in our day!" - -"Descend, monsieur," said the exempt, as the coach drew up; then, -turning to some sentinels within the gate which opened to receive -them, he remarked, "_Couvrez-vous, messieurs_." - -Surprised at this order, which Bertie did not understand, he glanced -at the soldiers standing about and observed that, as he approached -them, they removed their hats from their heads and placed them before -their faces until he had passed by, so that they could by no means -have seen what his appearance was like. And to the inquiring look -which he directed to his captain, the exempt replied, with a slight -laugh: - -"Madame la Bastille endeavours ever to be a polite hostess. She thinks -it not well that these fellows, who are not always in her service, -should be able afterwards to recognise her guests when they have -quitted her hospitable roof. _Vraiment!_ her manners are of the most -finished. Come, Monsieur Elphinston, Jourdan de Launey attends us.[6] -He rises ever at seven, so as to welcome those who arrive early. Come, -I beg." - -Following, therefore, his guide, and followed by the men who had -escorted them, Bertie crossed a drawbridge and a courtyard, and then -arrived at a flight of stone stairs let into the wall, at which was -stationed an officer handsomely dressed, who, on seeing Elphinston, -bowed politely to him and requested that he would do him the honour to -accompany him to the Governor. Then, turning round on the exempt's -followers who came behind them, he said in a very different tone: - -"Stay where you are. Do you suppose we require your services to -welcome the arrivals? And for you, Monsieur l'Exempt, we will rejoin -you later." Whereon he opened a small door off the staircase and led -Bertie into a room. - -A room which astonished the young man as he stepped into it; for, -although he had often talked with people in Paris who had been -imprisoned in the Bastille, and had heard that some parts of it were -sumptuously furnished, he had not imagined that even the Governor -possessed such an apartment as this. It was, indeed, so large as to be -almost a hall, though the gorgeous hangings of yellow damask fringed -with silver and with lace made it look smaller, while at the same time -they imparted a brilliancy to the vastness of the room; and some -cabinets, bureaux, and couches distributed about also served to give -it a comfortable appearance. In front of a blazing fire--so great, -indeed, that the wonder was that any mortal could approach near -it--there stood, warming his hands, the Governor, De Launey himself, -while seated close by at a table covered with papers was a -miserable-looking person who was engaged in writing. - -No man, possibly, ever presented a greater contrast between his own -appearance and the dreaded position which he occupied than did Jourdan -de Launey, then an old man approaching his end. He was very thin and -very bald, with beady black eyes and a rosy face which gave him the -appearance of extreme good humour, while that which rivetted the -attention of everyone who saw him for the first time was the -extraordinary shaking, or palsy, that possessed him always. Even now, -as he stood before the huge, roaring fire, holding out the palms of -his hands to it and lifting first one foot and then another to its -warmth, he shook and shivered so that he seemed as though dying of -cold. - -To him the handsomely apparelled officer--whom Bertie soon learned -bore the rank of the "King's Lieutenant of his Majesty's fortress of -the Bastille"--addressed himself, saying that the Captain Elphinston -had arrived; whereon De Launey turned his back to the fire, regarded -Bertie for a moment, and then held out a long, white, shivering hand, -which the other, as he took it, thought might well have belonged to a -corpse. - -"Sir," he said, in a voice of extreme sweetness, though somewhat -shaken by his tremblings, "you are very welcome, though I fear this -abode may scarcely be so to you. Yet I beg of you to believe that what -can be done to put you at your ease and make you comfortable shall be -done. Moreover, permit me to tell you that which I tell all my -visitors who are not of the lower classes, nor murderers and ruffians, -who need not to be considered, that your visit here by no means brings -with it a loss of self-respect or of social position. The Bastille is -not a prison, as the _canaille_ think; is not Bicêtre nor even -Vincennes; it is a place where gentlemen are simply detained at the -pleasure of his Majesty, and when they go forth they go unstained. If -you will remember that, Monsieur le Capitaine," he continued with -increased sweetness of voice, "you will, I think, repine less at our -hospitality." - -Bertie bowed, as, indeed, he could not but do to such extreme -politeness, no matter how much he resented his incarceration, then he -said: - -"Sir, I am obliged to you for your civility. Yet, monsieur, if you -would add to it by telling me with what I am charged and why I am -brought here at all, you would greatly increase my obligation." - -"Monsieur le Capitaine," replied the Governor, "I regret to -refuse--but it is impossible. That you cannot know until you appear -before the Lieutenant of the Civil Government, or Examiner, who comes -here at periods to examine our visitors. Then, by the questions he -will ask, you will undoubtedly be able to surmise with what you are -charged." - -"And when will he come, monsieur?" - -"I know," he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders which so blended -into one of his shivers that it was almost imperceptible, "no more -than you do. He comes when it pleases him, or, perhaps, I might more -truthfully say, when he has time, and then he interrogates those whom, -also, it pleases him. Sometimes it is our latest guest"--De Launey -never by any chance used the word "prisoner"--"sometimes those who -have been here for years. And some there are who have been here for -many--but no matter!" Then, turning to the King's Lieutenant, he bade -that officer give him Captain Elphinston's _mittimus_, or the stamped -letter containing the order for his reception and security. - -This letter he read carefully, during which time it shook so in his -palsied hands that Bertie could not but wonder how he could -distinguish the characters in it; after which he looked up with his -good-humoured smile and said: - -"Sir, I felicitate you. You are of the first class of guests; beyond -restriction you will have little to complain of. The King"--and he -raised his tottering white hand to his forehead as though saluting -that monarch in person--"is, you know, your host; your pension will be -of the best. Secretary," he said, turning round sharply to the man at -the table, "read to the captain the bill of fare for the principal -guests." - -This man, who seemed, at least, to derive no great good from his -position, seeing that he was miserably clad in an old suit of ragged -Nismes serge, a pair of old blue breeches loose at the knees, and a -wig which had scarcely any hair left on it, began to read from a -paper, when, to Bertie's astonishment, a very different voice from the -soft tones he had recently been listening to issued from the -Governor's lips; and in a harsh, commanding way De Launey exclaimed: - -"Fellow, stand up before gentlemen! _Mort de ma vie!_ do you dare to -sit and read before us?" Whereon the wretched creature sprang up as -though under the lash, and began hastily to gabble out: - -"_Dejeuner à lafourchette_. Potage. A quarter of a fowl or a slice of -ox beef. A pie, a sheep's tongue or a ragout, biscuits, and rennets. A -quarter septier of wine, to suffice also for dinner and supper. -Dinner: A loaf, soup, petite pâté's, roast veal or mutton, pigeon or -pullet, or beef and toasted bread. Supper: A fish of the season, or a -bird and a chipped loaf. By order of the King, to the extent of 150 -sols a day." - -As he read from his paper--to which the visitor paid but little -attention, since he cared nothing about the meals he might receive--De -Launey nodded and wagged his head with approbation, and, when he -finished, exclaimed: - -"A noble King! Fellow," to the secretary, "begone! Go seek the -turnkey, Bluet, and bid him prepare for Monsieur le Capitaine the -second chamber of the chapel." - -"The second chamber of the chapel! The best apartment!" - -"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed De Launey, while he shook terribly, "do my -infirmities render me unintelligible? Ay, the second chamber; and for -you, if ever you misunderstand me again, the vault under the ditch -where the malefactors lie!" Then, putting out his long, white, -trembling hand--while all the time he smiled blandly--he nipped the -man's arm between two fingers and repeated, "Where the malefactors -lie! Where the man was eaten alive by rats! _Tu comprends, cher -ami?_ Go. The second chamber in the chapel for Monsieur le Capitaine. -_Va!_" - -The man left the room quickly, casting a glance, half of terror and -half of hate, on De Launey, who, after regarding him till he was gone, -turned round to Elphinston with his pleasant smile, and said, "A vile -wretch that. Yet a useful one, and bound to me by the deepest ties of -gratitude. Sent here by the Jesuits some years ago. Ha! ha! The holy -fathers know how to obtain the lettres de cachet! for an unspeakable -crime--the corruption of a nun to Protestantism, saved his life by -telling them that he was the man who had been eaten by the rats, -though 'twas another. Thus I bound him to me for ever. He writes a -most beautiful hand, knows the history of every man in the Bastille, -and--ha! ha!--draws no recompense. The Inquisition injured my family -once--they burnt an aunt of mine in Seville--therefore I love to -thwart them." - -Bertie inclined his head to show that he heard the Governor's words; -then the latter continued in his mellifluous strains: - -"Now, Captain Elphinston, I must tell you that you should try and make -yourself as comfortable as possible here. Above all, do not dream of -an escape. Many have done so; few have succeeded--the Abbé du -Bacquoy alone of late years.[7] For the walls are thick--oh, so -thick!--between each room there is a space of many feet--the windows -are barred; so, too, are the fireplaces; the ceilings cannot be -reached by two men standing one on the other's shoulders. Moreover, a -visitor seen outside his window, or on the roofs or walls, could not -escape the eyes of the sentries, and would be shot--poof!--like a -sparrow. Monsieur, let me beg you, therefore, to content yourself with -our hospitality. Later on--if you are not recalled--we will perhaps -give you some companions; we wish our guests to have the enjoyment of -society. Monsieur le Capitaine, here is Bluet, who will conduct you to -your apartment. _Au revoir_. I trust sincerely you will be at your -ease." - -Again the ice-cold, shivering hand clasped that of Elphinston, De -Launey bowed to him with as much grace as though he were taking part -in a minuet, and, following the turnkey, who had come in with the -secretary, the prisoner went forth to his chamber. - -Descending the stairs and out by the small door in the wall, he passed -again through the Corps de Garde, all the members of which once more -instantly took off their hats and held them before their faces. Then -he was led across a great court and in at a square door painted green, -and so up three small steps on to a great staircase, at the bottom of -which were two huge iron doors that clanged with an ominous sound -behind him. At the head of this staircase were three more gates, one -after the other--wooden gates covered with iron plates--and when these -were locked behind Elphinston also, another iron-bound door was -opened, and he stood within a great vaulted room, some sixty feet long -and about fifteen in breadth, and the same in height. - -"_Voilà!_" exclaimed the secretary, "behold the second room of the -chapel. _Mon Dieu!_ a fine apartment for an untitled guest! But the -old animal will have his way. Yet, why this room of princes? 'Twas -here the man with the iron mask died, they say; here that the Duke of -Luxembourg and the Marshals de Biron and Bassompiere once reposed." - -"At least," said Bertie, casting his eyes round the vault--for such it -was--"I trust there was more accommodation for those illustrious -personages than there appears for me. Am I to sleep on the floor, and -lie on it also in the day? There is neither bed nor chair here." - -"All in good time, brave captain," replied Bluet, the turnkey, who -even at this early period of the morning appeared to be half -drunk--"all in good time, noble captain. I shall make your room a -fitting boudoir for a duchess ere night. Have no fear." - -"Now," said the secretary, "give up all you have about you." - -"What!" - -"All, everything," replied the other. "Oh, be under no apprehension; -we do not rob the King's guests; oh, no! Every visitor to this -delectable castle has to do the same, even though he be a prince of -the blood. I shall give you a note for what you hand me, and on your -sortie you will see all is as you handed to me. Yet the old _cochon_, -De Launey, loveth trinkets for his wife--young enough to be his -daughter; if you have a ring or a jewel, you can part with it; it will -be to your advantage." - -"Friend," said Elphinston, "I am a soldier who has fought in hard -wars, sometimes without even receiving a sol of any pay--as in the -last campaign in Scotland--what should I have? See, I have no rings on -my fingers, no watch to my pocket, no solitaire to my cravat. Yet, -here is my purse with a few Louis d'ors and one gold quadruple -pistole; count those, if you will," and he pitched it into the -secretary's ragged hat as he spoke. - -The man told over the coins, muttering that the large piece was _bien -forte et trébuchante_, then made an accurate note of them and gave the -list to Bertie. "All," he said again, "will be returned you on your -exit, unless you choose to give them to Bluet and me. We get little -enough, though God knows we have also little enough--at least, I -have--of opportunities for spending. Yet even here one may have his -little pleasures," and he winked at Bertie, who turned from him in -disgust. - -"No trinkets on the bosom," he went on questioningly, "no lockets, nor -crosses, nor reliquaries of saints? Humph!" - -"There is," replied Elphinston, "on my breast a bag of satin, in which -is a lock of hair--the hair of the woman whom I love. Fellow, do you -think I will let you take that, or even fasten your foul eyes on it! -Ask me no more; otherwise I will speak to the Governor." - -"It is against the rules," said the other, "quite against the rules, -yet----" - -"Curse the rules!" - -"Yet," he said, "so that when you leave us you will give me one, only -one of those pieces, I will not insist." - -"Leave me," said Bertie, and his voice was so stern that, followed by -the turnkey, the man slunk out of the room, and a moment afterwards -the heavy door was locked and barred on him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -DESPAIR! - - -Left alone at last, he walked up and down the huge chamber, or vault, -his mind full of melancholy, heartbroken reflections. - -"My God, my God!" he muttered, "what have I done that thus Thou -lettest Thy hand fall so heavily on me? What fresh sin committed, that -this fresh punishment should be mine! I have lost the one thing I -cared for in this life, lost her; now I am incarcerated here in this -place of horror, this place where men's existences, even their very -names, are forgotten as much as though they had lain for years in -their graves; this place which may be my grave." Then, a few moments -later, his heart and courage returned to him, and he murmured to -himself again: - -"Yet, I will not repine. That abject creature spoke of others who had -been here and yet escaped, obtained their liberty, all but him, the -hapless Masque de Fer, who drew his last breath in this gloomy -dungeon. Bassompiere, Luxembourg, De Biron, all went forth to the -world again. How many men have I not known myself who have been here? -There was one, the old Comte de Tilly, who told me he had been -incarcerated thirteen times, and that, whenever he saw the exempts in -the street, he took off his hat to them, and asked if by any chance -they happened to be seeking for him. And these walls," he exclaimed, -looking up at the blackened sides of the room, "seem to bear testimony -to many who have inhabited the place." - -They did, indeed; for, written all over the grimy and smoky sides of -the vault, were records left by those who had been incarcerated. In -one part of the room near the barred fireplace, through which a child -could not have crept, were the words: "The widow Lailly and her -daughter were brought into this hell on the 27th September, 1701"; in -another place was the name of a Neapolitan prince, one De Riccia, with -his remarkable motto beneath it, "Empoisona ove Strangola." And there -were scores of other names, of all countries: one, that of the -Chevalier Lynch, gentleman, of Sligo in Ireland; another, Jean -Cronier, _redacteur_, "Du Burlesk Gazette," Holland; a third, Magdalen -de St. Michel, while in a different hand underneath was written, "who -slew her husband, a King's sailor;" yet another, "the _Curé_ de Méry, -falsely accused of rioting and drunkenness"; and many more. And, still -continuing his sad patrol of the room, he saw that at each corner of -it were statues of the four Evangelists, so that he understood now why -it should be called the "Room of the Chapel," though why the "second -room" he never learned. - -"So," he said, as he mused in his misery, "so this place has been holy -ground, consecrated. Heavens! was ever a place of prayer turned to -such vile use since the Temple became a den of thieves?" - -As thus he pondered he heard the doors outside clanging, and a moment -afterwards, the unbarring of the chapel door and the harsh grating of -the key in the lock, a sound which was followed by the entrance of the -turnkey, Bluet--who appeared now more drunk than before--and another -man, also a turnkey. - -"Ha!" said the former with a hiccough, "now to arrange the boudoir. -Georges, disgorge thy burden and be gone. I have alone to do with -Monsieur le Capitaine," and, as he spoke, he reeled across the room -with a small folding table he had brought with him and placed it under -the barred and latticed window, where the light streamed on it. -Meanwhile, the other turnkey, Georges, had thrown down a huge bundle -of what was evidently bedding, and departed, to return again a few -moments later, with a tray, on which were several dishes. - -"_Voilà!_" Bluet muttered as he arranged the table, "behold your first -meal as guest of Madame la Bastille. A soup--of lentils--_bon! bon!_ -some cockscombs in vinegar--_pas mal ça!_ some chip bread, beef full -of gravy, with a garniture of parsley. Also the quarter septier of -wine--and good, too, you see, of Bourgogne. Now for more furniture to -accommodate our new guest." Whereon he reeled off to the passage and -brought back a sound wooden chair, which he placed by the table, -exclaiming, "_Voilà! monsieur est server_." - -Seeing that the fellow, in spite of his drunkenness, was doing his -best to treat him well, and reflecting also that much of any comfort -he was likely to obtain might depend on him, Bertie resolved to make a -friend of Bluet if possible; so, sitting down to the meal, he made a -semblance of eating it; and as he did so he said: - -"If I did not perceive that already you have been making free enough -with the drink, I would ask you to join me. This great jar," touching -the quarter septier, which contained half a gallon at least, "is more -than I can consume in a week, yet you, I judge, could drink it all at -a sitting." - -"_Facilement_. I often do. And the wine is of the best. When St. Mars -was governor here, he robbed the visitors, they say; took the King's -money for the best and gave the worst. De Launey, now, is different." - -"He is more generous, then?" - -"Nay, more timorous. For, observe, he fears the King should find out -he is being hoodwinked. Yet, all do not drink nor eat alike here. Some -get only a _chopine_ of the thinnest, one _plat_ to each meal, coarse -bread, and no fruit. It depends on the degree of the personage, also -the probability of the length of his visit. Because, you see, Monsieur -le Capitaine, some seem never likely to depart--and there are many -such, I assure you, who become forgotten; there is no hope they will -ever go forth; they have no money to give away in fees--for if a -visitor wishes to reward us for our little cares, he may make an order -on De Launey to distribute some of the money he holds; they become the -guest who has outstayed his welcome. You understand, monsieur?" - -He spoke with an air of drunken gravity, and, although in drink, -showed so much intelligence that Bertie guessed this was the man's -normal condition. Also, the latter observed that the state he was in -by no means prevented him from being able to fulfil any duty he had to -perform. Indeed, during the time he had been enlightening Bertie as to -the customs of the Bastille, he had been arranging in a corner of the -room some furniture the other man had come back with, as well as that -which he had originally brought. Thus he had fitted up a little -truckle bedstead in one of the corners near the fireplace and under -the statue of St. Matthew which stood in the wall above, a bedstead -which had some curtains of dirty flowered stuff, with a bag of straw -for a mattress, and also a blanket as dirty as the curtains, and full -of holes, and a quilt of flock. Likewise he had brought in a great -pitcher of water, a ewer and mug, all of which were of pewter. - -"_Avec ça_," he said, regarding these things with a look of -satisfaction, "monsieur is well provided. Oh, well provided! Now for -this you must pay six livres a month--none of which comes to me, -alas!--and if you wish more it can be hired. Yet, faith! it is a -chamber for a King. Shall I send for a fagot and make a fire to purge -the air of the room?" - -"Nay," said poor Bertie, "it is very well. Yet I would that the -chamber was not so vast; it is large, and draughty, and dark. Can I -not be removed into a better one--at least, a smaller one?" - -"That will come if you remain with us. Lengthened sojourns are not -made in this one. So you may content yourself with this, namely, while -you are here--in this apartment--you may go out at any moment. Now, I -have other guests to see to; I will return later with the dinner. -Adieu, monsieur," and he went away, banging, and locking, and barring -the heavy door behind him. - -Through the glazed window above, which had two great shutters to it -that were always closed, but had an iron gate or smaller window within -them, while outside was a green wooden lattice, Bertie could see that -the sun was shining; nay, a ray or so even forced its way through the -iron gate and illuminated a foot's breadth all along the dungeon, or -room. In one way it was, perhaps, not very welcome, for it showed -plainly the filthy condition of the floor, all incrusted with dirt as -it was, and with other refuse, such as small meat-bones, fish-bones, -egg-shells, and pieces of bread-crust trodden into it. Yet, also, to -his sad heart it brought some comfort; it spoke to him of the world -without, of the gay streets and gardens of Paris; of her, his love. -What was she doing now, he pondered; would she soon be wondering what -had become of him, and why, as once before--so long, so long ago, as -now it seemed--he had again disappeared from her and made no sign? Or -would he be free before Thursday came again? - -He thought, looking round the gloomy chapel, while he considered and -mused on these things, that his head might reach that little iron -gate, or _grille_, in the shutters if he placed upon the table the -chair and then stood on that, and thus he would be able to obtain a -sight of what was outside. So he set to work to place them in -position, and then, on clambering up, found that he could obtain a -view of the garden of the Bastille, and, owing to a low-roofed portion -of the fortress almost immediately in front of him, of away beyond -into the city. - -In the garden he perceived a lady walking, accompanied by a dog that -seemed from its action to be very old, for it moved slowly and feebly -without any gambols; and he wondered who she was, and if she might be -De Launey's wife, who was "young enough to be his daughter." The -garden itself, he could also perceive, since the chapel was no higher -than the first floor, formed the interior, or courtyard, of all towers -of the prison, and he saw that, by glancing upwards, the windows of -other rooms, or cells, were visible to him. Indeed, not only were they -visible, but so also was one of the inmates, who, as Bertie observed -him, was leaning against his little window frame with his face at the -bars as though to catch the air. He was a man somewhat over middle -age, with scowling features and long, unkempt hair, and as Bertie -regarded him he saw his lips moving as though either he was talking -to some fellow-prisoner within the room or muttering to himself. -This man fascinated Elphinston so that he could not remove his eyes -from off him--for in those other eyes there seemed to be a hell of -despair--and, as he thus looked, the man, shifting his gaze, glanced -down and across, and so saw him at his lattice. For a moment he stared -at Bertie and then made a motion to him with his finger--it seemed as -though to bid him stay where he was--and then disappeared from the -window to return a moment later with a little piece of light board in -one hand to which he pointed with the other. - -Made more curious than ever by this, Elphinston continued to regard -him and his actions fixedly, which were as follows: First the man held -up in his right hand--his left still grasping the board--something -that appeared like a piece of burnt wood, and then, applying it to the -board, drew on it the letter N. Pointing to it, he next drew the -letters O, U, and V, then E, then A, then another U, until at last he -had spelt out the whole of the word _Nouveau_. Next, after a glance -across at Bertie, as though to ask if he understood, and seeing that -he did, he again went on with four more letters, making the word -_Venu_, and carefully finishing the sentence by drawing, last of all, -a solitary note of interrogation, and looking over to Bertie as though -awaiting his reply to the question. Receiving from him two or three -emphatic nods of the head, he began again, and this time produced a -longer sentence, which, by recollecting each word as it had been -found, Bertie made out to be (in French, of course), "I have been here -twenty-one years." - -At this melancholy information he tried to throw into his -features--for no action of his body could be at all apparent to the -man--as much sympathy as was possible, whereon the other again pointed -to his board and continued with his letters until he had formed the -sentence, "Have you been before the Judges?" and receiving a negative -shake from Bertie's head, again worked out, "_Nor I, yet_," and waited -as though to see what effect this stupendous piece of information -might have on a newly-arrived prisoner. - -If the unhappy man desired to see horror depicted on that newcomer's -face--if such a sight could be gratifying to him who had lived -forgotten there so long, without, perhaps, even knowing why he was so -detained, he must indeed have been gratified. For as that terrible -sentence came out letter by letter on the board, Bertie shrank back -from the lattice, while his countenance must plainly have shown to the -other the emotions of pity mixed with dread and dismay with which the -communication had filled him. "Twenty-one years," he muttered to -himself, forgetting even for the moment his new-found acquaintance -opposite, "twenty-one years without knowing what he is charged with; -without hope. My God! what has his life been during that time; -waiting, waiting always! And it may be so with me," he thought, -shuddering as he did so, "it may be my case. I am twenty-six years old -now; at forty-seven I may still be in this prison, untried, -uncondemned, yet unreleased--no nearer to my freedom than now." And -again he shuddered. - -He glanced over to the unhappy prisoner in the opposite tower as he -finished these reflections, and saw that he was waiting for his -attention to begin his letters again. And, once more fascinated by -their terrible revelations, he watched eagerly as the next sentence -was formed. - -Slowly the words were composed, letter by letter; slowly they met his -eyes, and seemed to numb his brain and strike a chill to his heart. "I -am not the worst case," the prisoner spelt out. "Above you in the Tour -de la Bertaudière is one who has been here for forty-two years. -Untried still!" Then, with a wave of his hand, the man vanished from -his window--perhaps because he heard the gaoler coming into his -room--and Bertie saw him no more that day. - -Yet that which he had gleaned from his opposite neighbour was enough -to furnish him with sufficient food for miserable reflections all -through the remainder of the day, and far into the night when he lay -sleepless on his unclean bed. Bluet had visited him twice during that -period, bringing him two more meals--each good enough in its way, and -with different meats at each, but badly cooked; and on the second -occasion, and when he could perceive through the lattice that night -was coming on, the turnkey had offered to let him have some light if -he wished it. High up above the latticed window there was an iron -socket into which a candle could be fitted, or on to which a lamp -might be swung, and Bluet had volunteered to bring in a ladder and -place the light there if Elphinston desired it. But he replied, "No, -he wanted nothing. He would try to sleep till daybreak, try to rest. -The day had been long enough for him already." - -"_Ma foi! sans doute!_" the fellow replied, he seeming neither more -nor less drunk than he had been at nine o'clock in the morning. "_Sans -doute_, monsieur is fatigued, yet he must not lose heart. If the -judges do not release him ere long, he shall be moved to another -chamber where, perhaps, he will have some society. There is plenty -here. Of all sorts. Then monsieur will be gay." - -"Gay!" exclaimed Bertie. "Gay! In this place?" - -"And why not? Oh, figure to yourself, there is gaiety here and to -suffice. Hark now to that! Hark, I say!" and at the moment he spoke -Bertie heard a voice in his own tongue trolling forth a drinking song. - -"Ha! ha! _Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the turnkey, "it is the gallant -captain. Also a captain like monsieur, but of the road. They say he -stopped the Cardinal's carriage at Fontainebleau not so long ago, yet -this he denies. And a spy, too, of England, they say. He plays the big -game. _Mon Dieu!_ listen! he sings well, though I understand no word -of your somewhat severe and sombre tongue." - -Severe and sombre though it might be, it did not sound so as the -gallant captain shouted forth his drinking song. - -"He's gay," said Bluet; "he has found a new companion--one, however, -who will scarce join in his mirth. A miserable creature sent in by the -priests, a murderer, they hint. _Mon Dieu!_ either he will desolate -the captain or the captain will drive him mad with his carousings." - -After which, and having wished Bertie "a good-night and good repose," -he took himself off, and, ere the latter slept, he could have sworn he -heard Bluet's harsh voice joining in a song with the captain, though -this time in the French language. - -"So," he thought to himself as, after having knelt by his wretched bed -and prayed for mercy from his God, he flung himself upon it, "so 'tis -to this pass I am brought--I, who have served the French King -faithfully for years, who have committed no crime against him. And am -I doomed to remain here forgotten? Perhaps be like that other one with -whom I communicated to-day, or that still more unhappy man whose life -has been spent in these awful walls. Forty-two years, he said of -him--forty-two years!" And again he applied that second case to -himself as he had done the first. "Forty-two years! I shall be then -sixty-six. All, all will be dead and gone. My mother long since, Kate -almost of a certainty; Douglas, too; even the scoundrel Fordingbridge! -O God!" he cried, wrought up by these reflections, "release me from -this place, I beseech Thee, release me; even though it be only by -death. Let me not linger on here untried for a fault I know not of, -uncondemned and forgotten. Take my life, but not my freedom while I -live. What have I done? What have I done?" And with such a heartbroken -prayer as this on his lips Bertie Elphinston fell asleep at last, if -that can be termed sleep which was no more than a disturbed -forgetfulness--a broken slumber from which he would wake with a start -as some sound from other parts of the prison penetrated his chamber, -or a rat would scamper across his bed and touch his hand with its -foul, dank coat. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -AT LAST. - - -The days went on slowly and without anything to distinguish them from -one another, until, at last, it seemed to Bertie in his dungeon that -he would soon lose count of them, would forget how many had passed -since first he entered the prison, and would become confused as to the -days of the week. Every night he heard the roaring of the English -"captain"--if such he was--and every day he communicated with the -prisoner in the tower opposite to him, but these alone were the -incidents of his life, for beyond the visits of Bluet with his meals, -no one came near him. And he thought ever of what those outside would -imagine had become of him. With that opposite prisoner, for whose -appearance at his window he looked eagerly every morning, he had now -established an almost perfect system of corresponding, so that, -although their intercourse was naturally very slow, it was at least -something with which to beguile many weary hours. He had been unable -to discover any board which would answer to the one on which his -strangely made friend wrote and rubbed out letter after letter and -formed his words, but as he had found several large pieces of paper in -a corner of the chapel, he had managed to shape a number of large -letters--indeed, all of the alphabet--which, by holding each up -successively, answered the purpose equally well. And thus they -corresponded slowly and wearily, but still intelligibly, and in that -way the monotony of their lives was relieved. Yet even this was not -always practicable, and sometimes they had to desist from -communicating with each other at all since, on certain days the -sentries were set on the tower in which the man was, and would have -discovered their correspondence had they not discontinued it. But at -other times the men's duty took them to other parts of the prison -roof--for the _corps de garde_ was not strong, the walls, locks, and -bars being alone considered sufficient to prevent any attempt at -escape--and then they were uninterrupted. - -"I am alone in my cell," the other had communicated to Bertie, "and my -name is Falmy. I am of Geneva. Of the Reformed faith. I know of no -other reason why I am here so long. Fleury sent me here the year -before he was Cardinal." - -Every morning, however, he prefaced any other message to Bertie by the -question, "Have you been examined yet?" and as each day the other -shook his head he seemed by his expression to show that he regretted -such was the case. - -"If you are not examined soon, your stay may be long. But take heart," -he signalled, "the principal examiner is extremely irregular, yet he -comes at last in most cases." - -"He has not done so in yours, poor friend," returned Bertie, "nor in -the case of him who has been here forty-two years! Who is he?" - -"Le Marquis de Chevagny, of near Chartres. It was the Grand Monarque -who sent him here. He is forgotten. In December he will have been here -forty-three years." - -"What was his fault?" - -"He wrote a _pasquinade_ on Madame La Vallière. She obtained the -lettre de cachet from the King." - -"And," signalled back Bertie, "for that he has suffered forty-three -years!" - -"He will suffer till he dies. Louis and La Vallière have been long -dead, so have all of their time. He is forgotten. He will never go -forth. Nor shall I. Those who are forgotten are lost." - -With such recitals as these it was not surprising that Bertie's heart -should sink ever lower; that as days followed days and grew at last -into weeks, he began to feel sure that for him the gates of his prison -would never open. He, too, would be forgotten by those who had sent -him there; would he, he asked himself, be forgotten by those who loved -him? No one knew that he was incarcerated in those dreadful walls, -that fortress in which one was as much shut off from the world as in a -tomb. No one would ever know! - -He consulted Falmy one day as to whether there was no possibility of -communicating with that outer world, no chance of letting some friend -who could interest himself in his behalf know where he was, but in -reply the other only shook his head moodily. Then, after staring out -of his window for some moments, with always in his face that look of -despair which Bertie had observed from the first and had been so -fascinated by, Falmy made a sign to him to attend, and began his -letters again. - -"There is," he signalled, "one chance alone, be confined with some -prisoner whose release may come while you are together. Then to send a -message to your friends. By word of mouth alone. No written line can -go forth. All are searched for letters ere they are let go." - -Bertie thought a moment, then he asked: "Can I get changed to another -room?" Again Falmy shook his head gloomily and pondered. But another -thought appeared to come to his mind, and he signalled: - -"You will be changed ere long if you are not released or examined. -None remain in the chapel who are to stay in this devil's den. I have -made many friends at your window, and lost them all. Soon I shall lose -you," and as he finished the last word Bertie saw Falmy's face working -piteously and knew that he wept. And he, his heart torn with both -their griefs, wept too, and left his window suddenly to throw himself -on his bed. - -And still the days went on, and the weeks, and he knew, by the notches -he made on the wall as each fresh dawn broke, as well as by the -increased cold, that the depth of winter had come. On the roof of the -Tour de la Bertaudière he could see the snow lying now, or heard it -fall into the garden with a thud when a slight thaw happened, while -the cold became so intense that neither he nor Falmy could stay long -at the window to communicate with each other. He had given various -little orders to Bluet for payment out of his stock of Louis d'ors -during this time, so that the man still looked after him well, and he -had a few fagots of wood allowed him, or rather found him, in -consequence, over which he would sit and shiver, though the large -bulging bars in front of the grate prevented him from getting near -enough to the sticks to derive much warmth from them. And often he was -driven to seek his pallet and lie huddled up in the foul bedding to -keep himself from perishing. - -And still the weeks went on now, and he was there, though he had -begged the turnkey to ask the Governor to remove him to a warmer and -smaller room, and also to some place where he might have company. But -Bluet had only shrugged his shoulders and said that such a request was -useless, adding that De Launey was a brigand who would do nothing -until it pleased him. - -"Yet," replied Bertie, "he said he would do his best for me and make -me comfortable. Comfortable! comfortable! My God!" - -"Poof! poof?" exclaimed Bluet. "You must not believe in him. He is -full of words to those who come in--_le sal Gascon!_--because he knows -not how soon they may go out again, nor whether they may not have come -in by mistake--as _mon Dieu!_ many have--nor what trouble those who go -out may plunge him into. But once he finds they are not going--that is -to say, not going just at once--why, then he possesses the Bastille -memory which, _ma foi!_ means an agreeable forgetfulness. _Tenez!_ -have no hopes from that shivering _escargot!_" - -"I am doomed, then, to die in this vault--to be killed by the cold and -the draughts!" - -"_Non, non_, be calm. You will go forth. None but princes and marshals -stay long here. And there has been a clearing from above; many have -departed; there is room for you now. Soon I shall remove monsieur." - -"Who are gone? Any who have been here long?" - -"No. Many new ones, and one who was here eight years--by a mistake. He -was a Hollander, a doctor, and--_mort de ma vie!_--they thought he was -Schwab, the Alsatian poisoner. He now is gone, and the pig, De Launey, -entertained him to breakfast ere he went, though he would allow him -only _la petite bouteille_ while he remained. And the captain of the -road, the sweet singer of songs, he is gone too, only 'tis to the -Place de Grève, for a certain purpose," and he motioned to his throat -as he spoke and winked at the other, who shuddered. Vile and dissolute -as the man's roarings and carousals had been, they had served to cheer -him up in his loneliness and desolation, and he regretted his fate. - -Another week passed, and Bertie, who had now contracted a terrible -cold and cough that plagued him at nights, began to believe that he -would never leave the chapel alive, when Bluet, coming with his -breakfast one morning, told him that he was to be moved. - -"Thank God!" exclaimed the poor prisoner, "thank God! it cannot be -worse than this." - -"No," said the turnkey, "because where you are going to you will find -_la société_. Though, _par hazard_, I know not if it will enchant you -much. There is the oldest pensioner of Madame La Bastille, the Marquis -de Chevagny--a sad man, taking little enjoyment of his life--though he -should be used to it by now! and another, a fool, a madman, they say a -murderer. But I know not. However, he is a compatriot of Monsieur le -Capitaine, an Englishman." - -"What is his name?" asked Bertie. - -"Monsieur, to many there are no names in the Bastille. Only numbers, -with few exceptions, such as that of De Chevagny, of whom we are -justly proud. He is a credit to us and to our care. Still, I doubt not -you will soon find out the idiot's name. He has his sane moments, -though they are few. But his principal remark is that he trusts the -wheel is not too painful. 'Tis to that he is bound to go." - -"An idiot! And sent to the wheel, even though a murderer! Will they do -that?" - -"Faith, they will. For, _tenez_, monsieur"--and he laid a dirty finger -along his nose and looked slyly at Bertie--"he is a prisoner of the -Church, of the priests. He has outraged them. Do you think he will -escape their claws if he were forty thousand times as mad?" - -"When shall I join this company?" asked Bertie. "I shall be glad to -go. At least, the Marquis de Chevagny should be an interesting -companion." - -"At once. I will go fetch Pierre to assist in carrying up your baggage -and furniture, and then the King's Lieutenant will escort you to the -_calotte_. And, cheer up, 'tis high, but pleasant; you can see _tout -Paris_, and the top windows of the Rue St. Antoine. _Ma foi!_ a gay -view, a fine retreat." - -While the man was gone, Bertie placed the table and chair against the -wall and sprang on top of them, and since it was Falmy's usual time -for being at the window, was happy in finding him there. "Adieu," he -signalled as rapidly as he possibly could, "I go to one of the -_calottes_. I pray we may be able to correspond as before." Then in an -instant he knew by the light in Falmy's face that such was the case, -for he nodded and himself began to signal back: "If not the one above -me, we can. I----" but at this moment Bertie heard Bluet coming back -to the door, and, hurriedly jumping down, replaced the chair and table -in their accustomed position. He had never been able to judge whether -the turnkey would have remonstrated at this correspondence with -another prisoner, and perhaps have caused it to be stopped. He did -not, indeed, think he would do so, but he had always taken precautions -to prevent him knowing what they did, and he took them now on this the -last occasion. - -Bluet was attended by the other turnkey, Pierre, and accompanied by -the King's Lieutenant, who was second in command in the prison; and -while the two former busied themselves in getting together his bed and -linen, as well as his furniture, the latter addressed him with that -French etiquette and politeness which so often does duty for -kind-heartedness. - -"Monsieur has, I trust, found himself as comfortable as circumstances -will permit," he said, "and has wanted for nothing. The food served in -this chapel is always of the first order." - -"I have nothing to complain of," replied Elphinston; "since I am here, -I must take what comes. Yet, I wish you would answer me a question or -so, monsieur. You are, or have been, a soldier, like myself. May not -that ancient comradeship of arms make you gracious enough to do so?" - -"It is not the graciousness I lack," replied the officer, "it is the -power. For, Monsieur Elphinston, you must surely know we are vowed to -silence and secrecy within these walls. It is more than our posts, -nay, our heads, are worth to answer questions or divulge secrets." - -"If I could know," said Bertie, "when I shall be interrogated it would -be much." - -"No mortal man in the Bastille can tell you that," the King's -Lieutenant interrupted, "not even De Launey himself. The examiner, or -judge, comes at fitful times and without warning. He came a week ago; -he may come again next week; he may not come again for a year, or for -two years." - -"Is it because he did not concern himself with my case a week ago that -I am now moved?" Bertie asked wistfully; "is it because I am passed -over and may have to wait a long time now that this change takes -place?" - -The officer shrugged his shoulders and turned his face away. He was a -soldier and had a heart within him, in spite of being the Lieutenant -of the Bastille, and he could not reply that Bertie had guessed -accurately, that it was because he had been passed over, and might, in -consequence, be passed over for years, that he was now removed from -the chapel. - -"I see. I understand," Bertie said. "I understand very well. I may -linger on here till I am old; I may become, if I live long enough, the -oldest prisoner!" Then, once more addressing the Lieutenant, he said, -though without any hope of receiving an answer: - -"If I could only know to whom or what I owe this incarceration it -might ease my mind; might, perhaps, enable me to confute the charge -that in years to come may be brought against me. Can you not help -me!--me, a brother soldier?" - -Bluet and Pierre had left the chapel with the furniture and bedding, -so that they were alone now, and the Lieutenant, glancing round the -place, said softly: - -"Have you no suspicion? Can you not guess? Does not your memory point -to one whom you have injured?" - -"My memory," replied Bertie, "points to one who has injured me and -those I love so deeply that, if had the power, he would have caused me -to be sent here. But even his devilish malignity could not procure him -that. He cannot have the power." - -He had thought of Fordingbridge over and over again as the man whose -hand might have inflicted this last deadly blow, yet he could never -convince himself that it could indeed be he. He would be almost as -much an outcast now, if in the city, as he would have been in London -with a price upon his head. How, he had asked himself, could it be -Fordingbridge? - -And the Lieutenant's next words, uttered in almost a whisper, in spite -of their being still alone, seemed to confirm his doubts. - -"Think again," he said; "reflect on some other than this one you -mention; on one whom you injured, whose ambition you thwarted in its -dearest design; on one who is powerful, has the ear of the King, who -could send you here, and did so. Reflect!" - -Bertie drew back in amazement and stared at the Lieutenant, unable to -believe his own ears. Then he repeated: - -"Whose ambition I thwarted! One who is powerful--the friend of the -King! Oh, 'tis impossible, impossible! Some awful mistake has been -made. I know no one such as that. No one." - -Then, clasping his hands together, while his voice rang out clear and -distinct in that vaulted chapel, he exclaimed, "For God's sake, help -me in this! For God's sake, tell me to whom you refer!" - -"Hush!" said the other. "Hush! They are coming back. And as for the -name, it must never pass my lips. If the recollection of your own -actions cannot help you now, I can do no more;" and, seeing the -turnkeys at the door, he said in his usual tones, "Monsieur, follow me -to your new apartment." - -Dazed with what he had heard, Elphinston obeyed him, and slowly -they went through the gloomy passages and up more stairs through -iron-plated doors, until they stood at the one which opened into the -_calotte_ of the tower above the chapel--so called because, being the -topmost chamber in the roof, it resembled a _calotte_, or fool's cap, -or extinguisher. - -"Messieurs," said the Lieutenant to the inmates of the room when the -door had been unlocked and unbarred, "allow me to present to you a -comrade. Let me trust you will be agreeable to each other. Monsieur de -Chevagny, you are the father of the house; I commit him to you." Then, -glancing over to a bed in the corner, on which a dark-haired man lay -sleeping with his face turned to the wall, the Lieutenant shrugged his -shoulders and said, "_Mon Dieu! le fou_ sleeps heavily. Well, we need -not disturb him. No presentations are necessary with him." - -The man addressed as Chevagny--whom Bertie could not but regard with -interest, despite the whirl in which his brain was at the strange, -inexplicable revelations of the Lieutenant--rose with courtesy from a -chair as his name was mentioned, and, coming towards Bertie, held out -a thin hand. His hair was snow-white and of great length, while his -face, partly from age and partly, perhaps, from long confinement, was -shrivelled and wan. What his clothes might have originally been it was -impossible to guess; now they were a mass of rags and tatters, patched -in some places, in others hanging in shreds. Round his neck he wore -for a cravat the sleeve of an old shirt; while the soles of his shoes, -which were full of holes, were joined to the upper parts by pieces of -pack thread. All over his face there grew a great beard as white as -the hair on his head, and this may have helped to keep him warm, -especially as over his breast it was tucked inside a shirt that was -almost black from long wear. Yet, with all this ragged misery, those -features of his face which his hair and beard allowed to be seen were -refined and elegant, were the features of a well-born man. - -"Sir," he said to Bertie as he held out his hand, "what there is here -I welcome you to, and I can only pray that it may not be your lot to -grow as familiar with this place as I have become. For now--now--" and -Bertie could see his old lips tremble as he spoke, "this place has -grown through my unhappiness to be the only spot on earth that I know -of--my only home." - -"Monsieur le Marquis," said Bertie, "for your greeting, sad as it is -and sad as is the spot where we meet, I thank you. So long as I am -here--so long!--I shall respect and pity you." - -He had taken no heed of the figure on the bed while he was speaking, -having, indeed, his back turned to it, but now it forced him to -observe it. - -For, as he spoke for the first time, that figure--its wild eyes -staring as though about to start from its head, and its hands opening -and shutting convulsively--was kneeling on the bed, muttering, -whining, gasping behind him. - -And, turning round suddenly and seeing its contortions and its awful -maniacal fear, Bertie reeled back across the _calotte_, exclaiming: - -"My God! Fordingbridge! Face to face at last!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -BROKEN HEARTS. - - -Yet in that very moment he knew that once more Fordingbridge had -escaped his vengeance. He recognised in the creature which had flung -itself at his feet and was moving, grimacing, and chattering there, -that he was mad--that he could no longer right his wrongs by choking -the life out of it. Those wild, misty eyes, extended to their utmost -with fear and maniacal frenzy, told only too plainly that the brain -behind them was gone for ever, that henceforward he had to do with a -thing that lived, it was true, but had no sense nor reason. Yet the -maniac recognised him, he observed, was striving in his way to sue for -mercy--could he be so mad as to be safe from his revenge? - -"You know him?" asked the marquis, in his sad, weak voice, he having -witnessed the scene with astonishment. "You know him?" - -"To my bitter cost. Until to-day I thought--so much has he wronged -me--that to him also I owed my detention here. Yet that, it seems now, -can hardly be. Monsieur, how long has he been your companion?" - -De Chevagny paused a moment as though endeavouring to count the time -since first his companion had been there--his blue eyes gazing out -wistfully to the Rue St. Antoine, the roofs of which could plainly be -seen from this room--then he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I -cannot tell. I do not know. I have lost the power of keeping count. -Yet--yet--it must be many weeks. We had no fire when first he came, -and--and--the swallows were---- No," he broke off, "I cannot -remember." - -That told Bertie much; told him that it could scarcely have been -Fordingbridge who had been the cause, even though indirect, of his -being seized and sent here. They must have come in almost at the same -time. Who, then, was the strange, mysterious man of power--the friend -of the King, of whom the Lieutenant had spoken, the man whose deadly -vengeance he had incurred? - -"Begone!" he said to his old enemy, still grovelling at his feet; -"away from me, I say. Heavens!" he exclaimed, "must this companionship -be added to my other sufferings? Is the Bastille so small, or are its -chambers so crowded, that this wretch and I could not be kept apart? -Oh, what an irony of Fate that I who have sought him so long must meet -him thus!" - -"Monsieur," said De Chevagny, while still Fordingbridge knelt at -Bertie's feet, wringing his hands and muttering, "monsieur, if his -wrongs to you, his evil doings, are not beyond all forgiveness, you -may pardon him now, almost pity him. He is doomed to death, I hear; -nothing, not even his madness, can save him." - -"Pity him!" exclaimed Bertie, "pity him! He has ruined, broken my life -for ever; how can I pity him? And, even though he be not the cause of -my presence here, I curse the hour that he was born, the day that -threw him across my path!" - -"They say," repeated the wretched maniac, his eyes glinting about the -room in his frenzy, "they say nothing can save me. The priests will -have my blood, will have me broken upon the wheel, will even refuse me -absolution at the last. Yet I confessed to one of them--I confessed--I -should be spared." - -"What fresh crime have you committed that brings you here?" asked -Elphinston sternly of him. "What deed of treachery--or worse?" - -"I slew him," said Fordingbridge, still shaking all over, "because I -hated him, because he wrought my downfall. I came behind him -on--on--the _place_, I had the knife up my sleeve thus," and he bent -his hand as though to illustrate the holding of a concealed dagger's -hilt in it, "and when he turned from me I drove it home. He was dead a -moment afterwards. Dead! Dead at my feet!" and he leered hideously as -he spoke. - -"Who was it you assassinated thus, in a manner so well becoming all -your actions? Some poor, feeble creature unable to protect himself; -some old man or stripling, perhaps, and unarmed?" - -Was it well that Bertie did not suspect? If he had known, if he could -but have known or guessed that, so far from being such as he imagined, -the victim had been his own stalwart friend and comrade who had fallen -beneath the foul assassin's knife, could he have restrained himself -enough not to have dashed his brains out against the prison walls? - -"Ha! ha!" laughed Fordingbridge, while at the same time there came -into his eyes the awful look of cunning so peculiar to maniacs--"ha! -ha! I know. But the secret's mine--mine--and the priests'. Yet, though -I confided in them--confessed to them--they still denounced me, will -now slay me. They say," he went on, putting out a long, shaking finger -and endeavouring to touch the arm of the poor old marquis, who shrank -back from him as from some foul creature, "they say that not even my -English peerage can save me, since the priests are determined to have -vengeance. Do you think that is so? Will they kill an English peer?" - -"There is," said De Chevagny coldly--for now he knew that the creature -he had pitied when first he came to this room was a cold-blooded -assassin who had probably gone mad from terror afterwards--"there is -no reason why they should not. The priests have slain many French -peers who were not murderers--Son Eminence Grise more than a hundred, -they say. Why should they not slay an English peer who is such as you -are?" - -"But not by the wheel," Fordingbridge moaned, "not by the wheel. Oh, -to think of it!" and again he mowed and mouthed as he spoke. "I have -seen men killed thus--there was one at--at--I forget the place--my -memory is gone--but I saw him. They broke his bones with iron bars, -and finished by beating in his chest-bone, and----" breaking off -inconsequently, "I want my dinner; I am hungry." - -In disgust the others turned away from him, while he threw himself on -his bed in the corner and moaned again that he was hungry. - -"I have had many strange companions in this cell in my time," said -Chevagny, in his quiet, sad tones, "but never one like this. It is an -insult to put such as he is in with us." - -"Will they execute him as he fears?" asked Bertie. "I had always -thought that the Bastille detained its prisoners or sent them forth -free. I knew not that condemned men went from it to meet their death." - -"Many have so gone forth," the other replied, "though generally only -traitors. Yet this man stands in evil case, too; he has murdered, I -judge from what he has now said, a priest--a Jesuit; if so, he must -die, for the Jesuits are powerful in the Bastille--Gerville, the -chaplain, is himself one. And, if he is a murderer, he should die." - -"In truth he should," replied Bertie, "nor would I lift a finger to -save him. For he is a murderer in more senses than one: he has slain -two lives already--my own and another. I had sworn to myself to kill -him if we ever met; we have done so, and lo! I cannot slay him. No -matter, let the Place de Grève do its work!" - -That he should feel no pity for the wretch lying there on his bed was -not strange; he had wrought far too much bitter woe to Elphinston for -such a sentiment to rise into his heart. Indeed, instead of pity, -there had come into his mind now a great desire to discover, if -possible, who the victim could be whom Fordingbridge had slain. He had -not actually said it was a priest, though the Marquis de Chevagny had -suggested that it was one, and as Bertie pondered on all this a -terrible idea flashed into his mind--was the victim Archibald Sholto? -He knew that Fordingbridge hated him, he knew that Archibald possessed -many secrets of his; could it be that he had come upon him unawares -and slain him? If so, if such was the case, then it was not strange -that the Jesuits had determined upon his execution. And as he -reflected on all this he determined that, if Fordingbridge were not -taken away to his doom at once, he would find out who it was that had -fallen victim to his treachery. - -Bluet came in as he made these resolutions, and began busying himself -with preparing their midday meal, laying three covers at the table in -the middle of the room. As, usual the fellow was in his accustomed -semi-drunken condition, which Bertie had long since discovered was -owing to his habit of abstracting some or all of the prisoners' wine -ere he brought it to them--a pleasing custom none complained of, since -he was, otherwise, an obliging rascal; and, as usual, he began to -chatter in his familiar manner to those in the _calotte_. - -"_Ma foi!_" he exclaimed, "if things go on as they now are, we shall -soon have no guests at all. The examiners come again to-night; we are -informed they will dine with _le vieux singe_ De Launey; there will be -some clearances to-morrow morning." - -It was natural that at these words hope should spring into the breast -of Elphinston; that he should be excited with the thought that now his -case might be considered. Also, perhaps, it was natural that to De -Chevagny they caused not the slightest emotion. - -"Is--is there any possibility, any chance of knowing who will be -called before them?" asked the former. "Can you, Bluet, give any -guess?" - -"_Mon Dieu! non_," replied the other, "not the least. When D'Argenson, -who is the presiding Examiner, has supped--and, Heavens! he will -punish old De Launey's _vin de Brequiny_, which is a wine to make the -goats dance--then he will call for the list of our visitors, and will -go over it from the first here to the last; and from that list he will -select the names of some, but who they will be D'Argenson and his -friend, the devil, alone can tell." - -"There will be one," said the marquis softly, "whose name at least he -will not select--one who is forgotten by all outside these walls. Yet, -how well he was known and loved once by many--by many!" - -"Ah, Monsieur le Marquis," said the good-natured vagabond, trying to -cheer him, "what should we within the walls do if he did not forget -you? _Mon Dieu!_ I would disband myself, would go forth also if you, -the father of our company, our Bastille flower, left us. _Non, non_, -marquis, we cannot part with you. You are our father, our pride." - -"I was here," said the poor old prisoner, shaking his head--and -as he did so he shook a drop from each of his eyes on to his long -beard--"when Bernaville was Governor. He put me first in the Tour de -la Comte, where Lauzun had been, and where, when he tried to escape, -they hanged his servant outside his door as a warning; him they dared -not hang; and then I thought always that the Examiner--it was -D'Argenson's father in those far-off days--might send for me. But he -never did, he never did. And none have sent for me yet, and never -will. You will go," he said, looking at Elphinston, "as the others -have gone, and he," looking at the maniac on the bed, "will go to his -doom, but I shall remain until I go, too--unto my grave. Ah, my grave, -my grave! And then--I may see again the young wife they took me -from--'tis almost forty-three years ago--and the little babe I left -slumbering on her breast; the little child that we were going to make -so brave a feast over and christen Brigide because it was my mother's -name, because it had blue eyes like hers." - -Bertie had turned his face away from the old man to hide his tears, -and now he took him by the hand and wrung it softly, while Bluet, who, -for a turnkey of the Bastille, seemed also much affected, exclaimed -boisterously: - -"Courage, courage, monsieur! We may lose you yet to our desolation. -And Madame la Marquise may welcome you still--without doubt she lives -for you--and _la petite mademoiselle_, now surely a great lady, as a -De Chevagny must be. Heart of grace, monsieur, heart of grace, and see -the fine dinner I have brought you! _Regardez moi ça_. Here is a -fish--_ombre chevalier_, of the best--and two pigeons, some beef with -the gravy in it, and a salad, some rennets and biscuits, and, for the -wine, two little bottles. Because, you see, monsieur," turning to -Bertie with a husky whisper, "here in the _calottes_ the visitors -drink not with such abundance as in the chapel rooms. 'Tis not my -fault." - -"Why," exclaimed the marquis, in a stern voice very different from -that in which he had just spoken, and regarding the table fiercely, -"have you placed three covers? Who are the three?" - -"_Mon Dieu!_ you are three, monsieur. _Le fou_--the English lord--must -eat too, is it not so? The portion is for three, and a good one at -that." - -"He is a villain!" exclaimed the old marquis, his eyes flashing. "He -shall not sit at the table. I thought his drivellings of murder were -not true, until this gentleman came, and that he was a harmless idiot. -Now, I know he is a villain. And--and--I am a gentleman--a peer of -France--he shall not sit at meat with me." - -"Faith! then he must eat on his bed. Here, fool," Bluet exclaimed, -going up to Fordingbridge, who seemed more dazed than ever, though he -had been regarding the food eagerly; "the marquis will not have you at -the table; eat there!" and he flung a platter down before him, on -which there was some of the beef and salad, and an apple, or rennet, -all mixed together. - -The miserable wretch sprang at the portion like a wild beast that was -famished, and devoured it in a few moments, and then threw himself on -the bed again and either slept or pretended to do so, while the -marquis and Bertie, taking no notice of him, discussed their meal, -which, in spite of Bluet's eulogies, was not a very solid one. And -during its progress they took the opportunity of telling each other a -good deal of their various affairs and history, though, since the poor -marquis had been immured so many years, his did not take long in the -recital. Yet it was pitiful to hear. - -"I had been married but a year," he said. "I was young--but -twenty-five--well to do; nay, rich and happy. Then I wrote a little -_ballade_, a harmless one, upon La Vallière; it was sung about the -streets, it reached Marly and Versailles, and--and--that was all! A -week later I was here--and it is forty-three years ago. O Jeanne, my -wife! O Brigide, my little child, my babe! where are you both now? -Forty-three years! Forty-three years! Forty-three years! If they -should see me they would not know me. Jeanne could not recognize in me -the young husband who was torn from her side; my little girl never -knew me, will never know me now." - -That Bertie's expressions of pity and sympathy with the poor old -prisoner eased his grief he could not flatter himself, nothing could -bring comfort, he knew, to that broken heart and wasted life. -Moreover, he was himself too appalled, too overshadowed, by the dread -of what might be his own fate to give much consolation to the other. -He was young, almost as young as the marquis had been when he was -brought here; he might be here, in this very _calotte_, forty-three -years hence. Could there be any horror greater than this to look -forward to? Anything more dreadful than such as this, to freeze the -very life out of him! - -Yet, he hoped that it was not possible; he even hoped that to-night, -when the judges came, might see his liberty announced. For he knew now -that he must be the victim of some awful error; there was no man in -France whom he had injured, no man whom he knew who held the rank and -power which the King's Lieutenant said his enemy held. How, then, -could he have come here except by a mistake? - -Bluet brought their supper at eight o'clock and announced to them that -D'Argenson had arrived with two other examiners, or judges, as they -were termed indifferently; that they were supping with De Launey, and -that, when this was finished, they would proceed to the great hall, -where those who were to be examined would be summoned one by one -before them. - -"And when--when," asked Bertie, "shall I know if--if--I am passed -over?" while it seemed to him as he spoke as though his tongue cleaved -to the roof of his mouth so that he was scarcely intelligible. - -Bluet shrugged his shoulders ere he answered, then he said: - -"'Tis scarce possible to say. _Mon Dieu!_ in this place day and night -scarce know distinction. They may sit till daybreak--I have known them -do it when making a great clearance, and we have had to rouse our -guests from their beds to go before them. Yet, 'tis not always so; -ordinarily, by midnight, the affair is finished." - -"So that," said Bertie, "I can know nothing for certain until the -morrow." - -Again Bluet shrugged his shoulders, again he answered dubiously that, -"_en vêrité_, that might be so;" and then, saying that "Monsieur le -Capitaine must hope for the best," he took himself off. - -So, in this hapless frame of mind, Bertie sat down to pass the first -night in his new lodging. That he should sleep was impossible, and -therefore bidding the marquis, who had already got into his bed, -"Good-night," he dragged a chair in front of the barred fireplace and -sat there brooding through the hours. Of Fordingbridge, who was lying -outside his bed, neither of the others had taken any heed, and even -when he muttered incoherently Bertie regarded him not. - -As he sat there watching the fire die, he heard the great clock over -the gateway strike eleven; as he still sat on, listening for any sound -which might announce the coming of those who would be sent to fetch -him, he heard it strike twelve. Yet still no one came. By this time -the candle in the socket high up out of reach was flickering and -flaring at its last ebb and throwing great shadows on the walls; and -once, as he looked round the room, disturbed by some movement of -Fordingbridge's, he saw that the latter was sitting up on his bed -peering at him with his great hollow vacant eyes, in which the glare -of madness was almost intensified by the unsteady waverings of the -candle's flame. Then, as the great clock tolled one, the light went -out, and he heard Fordingbridge throw himself back on his bed. - -Still the time went on--once Fordingbridge laughed in the dark, an -imbecile, vacant laugh; once, he could have sworn, he heard him mutter -"Sholto!" and once he moved uneasily on his pallet and groaned--and -then the clock struck two. But still he sat on in the darkness before -the dead fire, waiting, waiting. And, at last, he heard a sound of a -door opening in a distant corridor, then another, and then footsteps -approaching. And a moment later Bluet's voice was speaking outside. - -"Monsieur," he heard him say, "_Je regrette beau-coup_, but the judges -have departed; monsieur's chance is not yet arrived." - -And with a heartbroken groan Bertie groped his way to where his bed -had been placed and flung himself upon it, while, as he did so, he -heard his maniacal foe at the other end of the _calotte_ muttering to -himself and laughing once more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -"HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST MINUTE MOUNTED." - - -After that night Bertie ceased to believe that he would ever go forth -from the Bastille; a lethargy, which was partly despair and partly a -fierce, bitter repining at the inexplicable, unmerited cruelty which -had consigned him to such a place, took possession of his spirits, and -he came to regard himself as one who was dead to the world for ever. - -Yet from the other--to whose long sufferings his own could at present -form no comparison--he received consolation in many forms; from De -Chevagny, continual exhortations were made that he should never lose -heart, while even Bluet would tell him, in his own familiar, -good-natured manner, that he was far too young a visitor to consider -himself a permanency as yet. - -"There have been men here," said the marquis, repeating the same -stories over and over again to him for his comfort, "who have not -given up hope for years, who have then done so and become despairing, -and have then, after still more years, gone out free." After which he -would tell of the Dutch doctor who had been mistaken for the Alsatian -poisoner; of others who had been there ten, fifteen, twenty years, and -had at last got away; indeed, to solace poor Bertie, the marquis more -than once said that even he himself, after forty-three years, had not -lost all courage, and hoped to spend some few of those remaining to -him in freedom. Yet, as the other looked in his face and heard his -sad, trembling tones, he knew that it was but pity that inspired the -words; that, in his heart, De Chevagny knew he would never be -released. - -From Falmy--by use of their letters which, in spite of the change in -lodging, they could still make visible to one another--he received -also many sentences of encouragement and counsel, while one day there -came from that unhappy man a piece of information which once more set -his heart beating with hope, and raised great expectations. - -"I have been joined by another prisoner," he signalled across to the -window of the _calotte_. "He is, however, about to obtain his -liberty--awaits only his signed acquittal from D'Argenson. If you have -messages to send, he will deliver them if possible." - -In an instant Bertie had snatched from an old trunk that had been -brought by De Chevagny the letters which he used, and a few moments -later he had begun to signal a message to his mother, which he -intended to augment by another to Kate. His heart beat high as he did -so; he knew that, if this prisoner who was to be released was only -faithful, in a few days at most the two women who loved him so would -know of his whereabouts, though they were powerless to obtain his -freedom. Yet, could even that be possible? Who could say? His mother -might represent to the King his long and faithful services in the -regiment; Kate might have powerful friends at court who could do -something. - -With trembling hands he formed the words, letter by letter. "Tell him -my name is Elphinston. Bid him seek out my mother. She lives at the -Rue----" Alas! as he finished the last letter of the word "Rue," upon -the _calotte_ about the tower in which Falmy was there appeared the -cone-shaped shako, or cap, worn by the _corps de garde_ of the -Bastille, followed by the body of a sentry, and, hastily leaving the -window, he desisted from his work. He was foiled for the day at least; -the sentry he knew, was set on that particular tower, and either he or -those who relieved him would be there for twenty-four hours. And as he -reflected that in those twenty-four hours the _acquit_ from D'Argenson -might come for the prisoner who was about to be released, he felt as -if he would go mad. - -Falmy appeared at his window often during the day, looking wistfully -up to the _calotte_, though Bertie, who could still observe him when -standing back from the window, dared make no sign. It would matter -nothing for the soldiers to see him at the opening--the prisoners were -allowed the privilege of looking out if the windows were low enough to -permit of their doing so--but the slightest communication that should -be observed to pass between them would be visited with the most severe -punishment, even to confinement in the dungeons beneath the ditch. He -perceived, therefore, all the signs of distress on Falmy's face; he -even observed him turn round, and saw his lips move as he gesticulated -to his new companion within the room; he could guess, as plainly as -though he had heard him, what the Genevese was saying. He felt sure -that he was explaining that there must be a sentry above them, and -that therefore Elphinston dared not signal across. - -"Oh!" exclaimed poor Bertie, "oh, if I had but acquainted them with my -mother's address at once before the guard was set! that would have -been enough. Fool! fool that I am to lose so fair a chance! The very -visit of a man set free from this place to my mother's house would -have alarmed her suspicions, would have told her all. And now, now, he -knows not where to go. God help me! it was my only hope, and I have -lost it." - -All day he watched the roof of the opposite tower, hoping against -hope, for he _knew_ the guard would only be changed, and not removed. -He watched still as the shadows of the winter evening deepened into -night, and still also he watched until the night itself had come and -both tower and sentry were obscured in darkness. And as he kept his -dreary vigil all through the day, he saw Falmy's face at his own -window, staring at him with sad and melancholy glances, but without -any sign being made by him, so that he knew that a guard had been -placed above the roof of his tower as well. - -"On any other day it would have mattered nothing," he moaned to -himself. "Oh, why to-day of all days should these towers have been -selected!" - -It was so absolute a chance, such a coincidence, that the guard should -happen to have been placed at this part of the Bastille on this -particular occasion that his misery and mental anxiety were not -strange. Of all the days he had been in the _calotte_, there was -scarce one that could have been worse for him and his prospects. - -The restless night passed, the dawn broke, cold, grey, and miserable, -and springing from his bed he rushed to the window--only to see above -the opposite tower a sentry still there. The twenty-four hours' guard -was not yet finished, would not be until the great clock over the gate -should clang out nine. And it was not yet eight o'clock on this dreary -February morning! But at last the hour arrived. The sentry presented -arms to the King's Lieutenant who came to dismiss him from his post. -As the clock struck, the roof was deserted, and a few minutes later -Falmy's face appeared at the window. But he shook his head mournfully, -and then, with his board and piece of charcoal, he communicated the -melancholy words, "The prisoner went forth at eight o'clock." - -And now, indeed, Bertie gave himself up to despair--black despair that -grew deeper and deeper as the weeks crept by one after the other; as -slowly the cruel, griping Paris winter passed, and gradually they knew -that spring was coming. Yet to him who had once welcomed the birth of -new summers with such eagerness, the one now on its way to gladden the -earth brought no comfort. The swallows came back and circled round and -round the towers of the prison, and began, with countless chirps and -squeaks, to build their nests below the gloomy eaves, yet he only -found himself wondering vaguely why, when they were free, they should -choose so foul a place. Also, over in the garret windows of the Rue -St. Antoine he saw daily a girl tending some flowers in a box, even -saw the tint of the flowers themselves as they burst into bloom, and -wondered, too, if she, who had her liberty, ever cast one thought to -the poor prisoners confined so near to her. - -As for his companions, De Chevagny and Fordingbridge, they seemed, -from opposite reasons, to be indifferent to any changes that the -season might bring, though sometimes the former would stand at the -window and hold out his hands and let the warm May sun--for May had -come--stream down upon them and his face, and whisper sadly that for -those who could be out in the woods and fields it was good, very good. -Then, when he was tired of standing or sitting thus, he would cast -himself on his bed and sigh, and so sleep away the hours. - -With Fordingbridge, both he and Elphinston had ceased to hold any -converse at all; nor, indeed, had they been willing to talk with him, -was it possible that he could either have understood or replied to -them. His madness seemed to grow upon him daily, and, while he became -more taciturn, also he became more imbecile. Once he woke Bertie in -the early morning by crawling to his bedside, and, holding out a piece -of string which he had found imbedded in the filth of the floor, asked -him to hang him ere they could lead him to the wheel; and one night he -raved and moaned so through the dark hours--and on this occasion the -other heard him beyond all doubt mutter the name of Archibald--that -the prison doctor was sent for the next day. - -This official, who was addressed diversely by Bluet as _Monsieur le -Docteur_ Herment and _Monsieur l'Abbé_ Herment when he brought him in, -seemed to be in about the same state of semi-drunkenness as the -turnkey generally was, and to be also an inordinately vain creature. -He had on his head a golden-haired wig which, while he was examining -the unhappy wretch Fordingbridge, he was engaged in telling Bertie had -been made from the hair of one of his _chères amies_ who loved him -truly; and he also remarked that some silver buckles on his shoes had -been given him by a _grande dame_ who had recently been released from -the Bastille. - -"What of the patient?" asked the latter sternly, such observations -being unwelcome to him. "Will his lunacy increase, think you?" - -"_Ma foi!_" exclaimed the _abbé_, or doctor, "so much so that it is my -duty to warn the Society of Jesuits to be expeditious with what they -have to do. Otherwise they will miss their victim, and our good -Parisians will lose a spectacle. The wheel furnishes many a _fête_ in -the Place de Grève." - -"Will they do that?" asked Bertie. "Will they execute so miserable a -wretch as this?" - -_"Bien sûr_, they will. Was there ever a Jesuit who forgave?" - -"What has he done? They say he has slain a priest." - -But the other was not to be entrapped like this, so, with a wink, he -replied: "Monsieur, you should know by now that Madame La Bastille -keeps her secrets well. But this I will tell you," and he pointed as -he spoke to Fordingbridge, who was writhing on his bed, though none in -the room could guess whether he understood what was being said or not, -"he is doomed. And since he appears likely to escape the examiners if -there is much more delay, his time will not be long now. Not long. Not -very long! Oh, no! _Bon jour, messieurs_, I have my report to make to -the Governor. Yet, since we must not lose our friend, I will send him -a draught." - -Whether the creature' really made his report as he said he should, and -thereby hastened Fordingbridge's end, Bertie Elphinston never knew, -but at any rate it came soon afterwards. - -It was on one night, one 14th of May, when the weather had taken an -extraordinary change, and all the warmth of the coming summer seemed -to have disappeared and winter to have returned, and when from their -window they could see slight flakes of snow mingled with the falling -rain, that Bluet, bringing in the supper, appeared to be especially -solicitous that Fordingbridge should make a good meal. - -"_Mangez, mon ami_," he said, as the other crouched on his bed, -staring round the room with the hunted expression that was always now -in his eyes--"_mangez bien_. Make a good supper. _Mon Dieu!_ you eat -nothing of late," and he came over to the table where the others sat -and asked their permission to tempt the idiot with some meat and -biscuits. Then, as he bent over to take them from the dish, he -whispered significantly: - -"He goes to-morrow. Before daybreak." - -If Bertie had known that the doomed man had, to his other crimes, -added that of cowardly slaying his bosom friend Douglas, could it -have been possible that into his heart there could have come the -feeling--was it pity--that now arose? At last, then, Fordingbridge's -end had come; he was to pay for all! And--and--for of such complex -emotions are we formed--as Bertie heard that his doom was sealed, he -forgot the wrongs he had suffered at this man's hands; he forgot the -wreck of his and of Kate's life; if he did not forgive him, he -compassionated him. Rising from his chair he went over to the bed -where Fordingbridge was seated, and on which he shrank from him as he -approached, and, pointing to the biscuit he held in his trembling -hands, he said, very gently, "Eat, Fordingbridge, eat. It will do you -good. And, see, you have nothing to drink," and going back to the -table he poured out a cup of wine and brought it to him. - -With still trembling hands the madman took it from him, glinting at -him over the cup as though afraid, and watching him as though fearful -that at any moment a blow might be dealt; and then, when he had -drained the last drop, he began slowly to munch the biscuit, which he -kept shut in the palm of his hand, as though someone was about to take -it from him. - -"Do you ever," asked Bertie, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if he -might thereby make him understand what he was saying, "do you ever -think of those who--who were once dear to you? If--if--it should -please God in His infinite mercy that, some day, perhaps in some -far-off, remote day, I may depart from here, and you--may not--not -accompany me, is there any word, any message, you would wish to send?" - -Still Fordingbridge shrank from him, creeping, edging farther away -from where he had sat down by his side, but he uttered no word. Only, -still his eyes roamed restlessly over Bertie's form, and still his -mouth worked convulsively as ever, and his hands twitched. - -"Think. Reflect, I beseech you," the man whom he had wronged so much -continued, "you are not well--you may--at any moment--be worse. And I, -forgetful of the past, would, if it ever comes into my power, very -willingly do this for you. Fordingbridge, you may trust me. As I sit -by you to-night, I cast away for ever from my memory the evil you have -wrought me; I desire only that, if I can, I may serve you. Can I do -nothing?" - -And still the other shrank from him, understanding, perhaps, not one -word that he said. Once more, however, Bertie continued: - -"If you can comprehend me, I pray you do so. Think, remember. -You had a wife once; before God I believe she is your wife now, and -always has been; I do not believe that you deceived her. Have you no -word for her, no plea for pardon, no request that, as time goes on, -she may come to think of you without bitterness? Also there are -others--Archibald Sholto and Douglas----" - -A cry from the maniacal lips interrupted him--a hoarse cry such as an -Animal in pain, an animal that had been struck suddenly and unawares, -might utter. - -"Douglas! Douglas! Douglas!" he shrieked. "Douglas! Douglas!" and so -continued muttering that name again and again. Then, with another -sound, half wail, half sigh, he flung himself back on his bed, and -thus spent his last night on earth. Yet, even on that night, through -the whole of which he chattered unintelligible words to himself, he -laughed once or twice convulsively, and as though suffocating with -suppressed mirth. - - - * * * * * * * - - -As the shadows of the night departed and the morning gave signs of -breaking, with still the snow-flakes mingling with the rain that beat -against the windows of the towers, they came for him--the King's -Lieutenant, accompanied by four of the _corps de garde_. - -"Put on your cloak, if you have one," that officer said to the -miserable creature shrinking back to the wall, while he shivered all -over and uttered his broken cries--"put on your cloak, and come." - -"In pity leave him!" exclaimed Bertie; "in the name of Christianity, -of humanity, refrain from taking so miserable a life as this! Vile as -he has been, see, see what he is now! It is as though you took the -life of a helpless child, of a dumb brute. As you hope for mercy, show -some." - -"I am but an instrument," said the Lieutenant; "I have my orders; -willingly or unwillingly I must obey them. And if I would spare him, -nay, if my master the King would spare him, the Church would not. He -is in their grip; it will be unfastened an hour hence, when he is -dead." Then, turning to the soldiers, he said, "Bring him away." - -They took the shaking wretch--no longer a man but only a living -thing--by the arms and led him moaning to the door; yet, when he had -arrived there, he had the strength to wrench one of them free; and -looking round at Bertie for the last time in the world, and with his -starting, scintillating eyes fixed on him, he raised that arm, the -hand clenched as though grasping a weapon, and--once--twice--struck -downward fiercely with it. - -Then he was gone for ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. - - -A great masked ball was over at the opera house; the candles were -burning down into their sockets in the girandoles and lustres; the May -morning, which under ordinary circumstances should have broken so soft -and bright, had dawned foul, rainy, and snowy; and carriages, hackney -coaches, and sedan chairs were pushing their way up to the doors of -the theatre and carrying off their employers to their houses and beds. - -But all were not yet departed; some still sat drinking or chatting at -the supper tables; some danced in groups without any music to -accompany them except the airs which they hummed or whistled -themselves, for the orchestra had put up its instruments and gone also -to its bed; and some, principally men, struggled and pushed in the -_vestiaires_ to obtain cloaks, roquelaures, hats and riding hoods, and -swords--which latter could not by law be worn in the ball-room. Mock -harlequins jostled imitation Henrys of Navarre; mock monks swore at -supposed Crusaders; minotaurs and cavaliers and priests all contended -against one another for their and their female companions' wraps, and -at the same time laughed and jested and proposed breakfasts at -neighbouring taverns, or a visit to the gambling hells, which on such -nights as these kept their doors perpetually open. - -Amidst all this confusion there ran through the whole place a -rumour--a whisper, which reached first those in the _vestiaires_, and -next the people at the supper tables--that those who so chose might -yet finish their night's enjoyment with another spectacle--a grim and -dismal but still enjoyable one--which was far better than any tavern -breakfast or punting at the gaming table. - -"_Figurez-vous!_" screamed one reveller, a deformed creature by -nature, who had, with true Parisian appreciation of ludicrousness, -arrayed himself consequently as Venus--"_figurez-vous, mes enfants_, -there are two for execution, although, _malheureusement_, but only one -is to be broken. The other, they say--because, _peste!_ he is a _sal -Anglais_ and also of high rank--escapes the wheel and is only to be -decapitated. A curse upon the law, say I, that treats an Englishman -better than us!" - -"_Ma petite Vénus de poche_," remarked another to him, clad as an -arquebusier, "have a care how you curse the law; otherwise you may get -broken yourself. There are plenty of police here in disguise, and if -they hear you, that goodly hump of yours will stand a fine chance of -being smashed by the executioner's bar. _Ma foi!_ the _coup de grâce_ -is generally administered to the chest bone; with you, I presume, it -will be administered on the _bosse_." - -"I spoke only in jest," exclaimed the deformed one, glancing round -apprehensively; "I meant no harm. A good subject, I, of the King of -France and all his ministers. But come, let us away. Who's for the -Grève? _Mon Dieu!_ we must not miss the show!" - -"I am for it, for one!" screamed a girl not over twenty, whose golden -hair hung down over her back, and whose tones and glances proclaimed -her to be already far sunken in dissipation. "I have never yet seen a -man done to death; and as for the wheel, why, I have prayed often for -a chance of seeing it. They say the _coup de grâce_ is magnificent if -the--the patient--is still sensible. Now, in our old village, before -the young lord brought me to town, we never saw anything but a beggar -in the stocks. And, _dame! les ceps_ cease to be interesting after one -has pelted the occupiers for half an hour." - -"Pretty things," said the arquebusier, looking down sardonically on -her, "have a care, _ma chère_, that you never come to worse than _les -ceps_ yourself. I have known many country girls brought to town by -their young lords, and--hem!--who got worse shift than the stocks when -they were discarded." - -"_Ah! voyons!_" exclaimed the girl, "_avec ça!_ Look you, my figure of -fun, you are insolent. Get you home to your wife and family, and earn -bread for them. We of the fashion desire none of your _banalités_." - -Yet, as she spoke, she was being inducted into her long cloak by some -of her would-be admirers, and also many others were getting ready. For -Paris had not had an execution for some two months now, and the -"half-tiger, half-monkey nature" which Voltaire attributed to his -countrymen was thirsty for its favourite form of entertainment. - -In the ball-room itself there sat, however, a group very different -from those in the vestibule, who, since the masquerades were open to -all who could pay for admission, had attended the ball. This group -consisted of Sir Charles and Lady Ames--once Lady Belrose--and Kate, -who, in spite of her melancholy and her ill-health, had been persuaded -to accompany them. Heaven knows such diversions were little enough in -her way now! yet Lady Ames had been kind to her when she needed -kindness, and, at the express desire of Sir Charles and his wife, she -had consented to go with them. - -In one way she was not unhappy: she knew, she felt certain, that this -second disappearance of Bertie Elphinston from the knowledge of the -world was not of his own accord. That something terrible had happened -she could not doubt; yet she knew also that, whatever that something -might be, it was not due to any desire to hide himself from her--that -was, if he was still alive. But was he? - -Douglas's awful death by an unknown hand might also have been -Elphinston's lot: who could tell? And then her own husband's -disappearance! Did not that point to some catastrophe? Over and over -again she had meditated on all these things, lying awake for nights -together, pondering over them, wondering, wondering always. For even -now she was in total ignorance of who the murderer of Douglas had -been, of what Archibald had discovered. He had written to her at -intervals, it was true, but he had either avoided all reference to the -tragedy, or had said that, if the murderer was ever brought to -justice, she would doubtless know all. Her husband he never mentioned. - -Yet, those who are aware of what she could not guess can understand -how difficult a task it would have been for the Jesuit to tell her -that he had discovered the assassin, and that Fordingbridge, her -husband, was the man. It may be that, after he had handed him over to -the proper authorities, he hoped, nay, endeavoured so to arrange that -she should never discover that her husband was the criminal. Better -that he should disappear from her knowledge forever, go to his doom -without her dreaming that he had paid for the crime with his life, -than that she should know to what a foul thing she had been united. - -The candles guttered lower in their sockets, the attendants were -putting out even the few lights that still burned; it was time to go. -The opera house was emptying fast of all who had danced the night away -there; amidst shrieks and whoops and yells the lower class of visitors -were departing in coaches and chairs or on foot--some to their homes, -but many to the Place de Grève. The spectacle of one man being broken -to death and another decapitated was not to be missed. - -"They say," exclaimed Sir Charles, as he returned with the cloaks and -hoods of the two ladies, "that an execution takes place this morning -on the Place de Grève. Hark! you may hear the creatures chattering -over it as they go forth. Well, our coachman need not go through the -_Place_, though it is on our road. Surely he can skirt round it. At -least, I will bid him do so," and he escorted his wife and Kate to -their carriage. - -Outside, the crowd that was making its way to the place of execution -was stamping down the now fast-falling snow as it fell, and hurrying -forward for fear it should be too late for the show. With renewed -shrieks and yells it went onward, singing songs and choruses, roaring -out ballads that perhaps it deemed suitable to the occasion, beating -on _tambours-de-basque_ and little tabours which formed the -accompaniments of many of the masquers' costumes, and hammering on -doors that were as yet unopened, with their shepherds' crooks and -wooden swords (which were allowed to form part of their dress) and -canes, and howling at the inhabitants to arise and come forth to _le -spectacle_. They halted very little on their short way, sometimes only -to shake the falling snow off their clothes, sometimes to wipe the -paint and raddle from their faces which the wet snow had turned into -sticky filth, and sometimes to kick over the braziers of the early -morning chestnut-sellers, or to run into an early-opened wineshop, -hastily gulp down a drink, and then go on again. - -"Heavens!" exclaimed Sir Charles, as the slow-progressing coach kept -pace with the creatures that passed along the miserable three-foot -sideways or crunched along the road--"heavens! what a crowd is a -Parisian one! Their laughter is as ferocious in its way as the -roughness of our English rabble--nay, I believe, far more deadly. How -they revel in what they are going to see!" - -"I tell you, my friends," screamed one painted harridan from the sedan -chair she was being carried in, to a number of her friends who walked -beside it, "that it is a great, a magnificent spectacle. I have seen -it, _voyez-vous_, at Lyons, on the Place Bellecour, often--once, -twice, thrice. _Ma foi!_ the shriek at the first blow as the man lies -back, his body tied to the wheel, is _pénétrant écrasant!_ And so on, -the cries becoming lower, till they are no better than sobs or groans, -until the _coup de grâce_. Then, sometimes, but alas! not always, -there will be one more wild shriek, and _voilà! c'est fini_. After -that it is always time for breakfast." - -One or two girls in the crowd making its way onward glanced at the -ogress in the sedan chair and turned white; and Kate, who had heard -all her words, grasped Lady Belrose's hand; while a man, walking -steadily along through the snow, answered the woman, saying: - -"_Peste!_ 'tis not always as good as that. I waited once all -through a summer night at Caen to see a man broken--I remember we -played cards, I and the others, in the moonlight, and I lost four gold -pistoles--and, _dame!_ the fellow was a favoured one. Favoured, you -understand. A vile aristocrat. So, as we thought, they strangled him -as they bound him, and, _malediction!_ he suffered not at all. Never -screamed once--not once. 'Twas a cruel wrong to the spectators." - -"'Tis an aristocrat who suffers to-day, they say," another man -exclaimed. - -"Nay," screamed still another, "not so. The aristocrat will suffer -not; they will but slice his head off with the axe. There is no -suffering in that; 'tis done and over in a moment. Yet I would see him -die, too. He is an English aristocrat, and I hate all English; one -beat me the other day for regarding his flaxen-haired wife too -admiringly! I have never seen an Englishman die. They are brutes, yet -they have the courage of devils." - -"An English aristocrat!" said Sir Charles to his companions. "I do not -understand this. There have been no Englishmen arrested in Paris for a -longtime; otherwise I must have heard of it among our friends here. -What does he mean?" - -"My dear Charles," replied his wife, "you do not know the Parisians -very well. An English aristocrat to them is any Englishman who is -outside his own country for pleasure and with his pocket well lined -with guineas. Doubtless, however, this is some needy ragamuffin or -copper captain, who has come to the scaffold for his sins, and they -suppose him an aristocrat." - -Whatever Sir Charles may have replied was drowned now by an increase -of the howls and yells of the crowd, by fiercer beatings on the -_tambours-de-basque_ and tabours, by snatches of wild, frenzied songs, -and by bursts of hysterical laughter. - -The Place de Grève was in sight. - -"Turn off!" said Sir Charles, putting his head out of the window and -addressing the coachman--"turn off, I say! I told you to leave the -route to that infernal _Place_ and avoid it. Why have you disobeyed -me?" - -The man shrugged his shoulders as he looked round from his -seat--doubtless, in spite of the orders he had received, he meant to -see _le spectacle_ himself if possible--then he said: - -"Monsieur, it is impossible to turn off, or scarcely now to proceed. -The crowd encompasses us. Yet the _Place_ is not so full but we may -pass through it. _Mon Dieu!_ if it had been a fine May morning, a fly -could not have passed." - -"Is--is there anything--dreadful--taking place yet? If so, we will not -proceed." - -The driver stood up on his box and gazed forward; then he shook his -head and said: - -"_Non_, monsieur, there is nothing. Only the erection itself, and the -soldiers and people; not many of the latter, either. _Nous autres_," -pointing to the howling crowd from the Bal Masqué seething around -them, "will double the sightseers." But he muttered to himself, "Ere we -get into the middle of the _Place_ we shall see something, or I'm a -stupid _escargot_." - -"Go on, then," said Sir Charles, "as quickly as you can, since you -cannot now turn round. Lose no time." And he spoke to his companions, -saying, "Best put on your masks. This is no place for ladies to be -seen in. But we shall be through it all in five minutes." - -Lady Belrose and Kate did as he bade them, and then the coach went on, -slowly following all those in the road before them. Unfortunately, it -had no curtains to the windows, which shut from within as was the -custom of the day, otherwise the baronet would have closed out the -whole of their surroundings. But this was impossible. - -And still the crowd accompanying them shrieked and howled more and -more--fighting and struggling to pass each other; thrusting those in -front of them away, elbowing and pushing--the man who had waited all -night at Caen playing at cards, throwing another almost under the -wheels of Sir Charles's coach, while a girl was borne down in the -crush and dragged aside fainting--stamping with glee and excitement, -almost dancing in frenzy. - -For the bell of the neighbouring church was tolling now, and, through -the flakes of snow as they fell, the wheel and the block for the two -condemned men were visible on the scaffold. - -That scaffold itself was a platform some seven feet high, around which -stood a company of the grenadiers, with, on either side of it, a guard -of the musketeers. On the left of it was the wheel itself, fixed -horizontally between stout wooden supports let into the platform, it -being a large cannon-wheel. On the right side was a headsman's block, -with, beneath it, a basket filled with sawdust, now half covered by -snow. By the wheel and leaning against it was a huge club, iron-bound -at the head, and at this sight the crowd became still more excited, if -possible, pointing it out to each other and saying, "Behold, _la -massue_. She will do her work well, _Ça pese bien_," and laughing and -screaming once more, and rubbing their hands. - -Next came a roar, with shrieks from women and more faintings among -them, while, by some impulse unrecognised perhaps by themselves, all -of the latter produced their masks and put them on. It may be that -something feminine, some feeling of womanly shame, prompted them to -hide their features, to disguise their presence there. As for the men, -the excitability of their natures affected them in a different way, -for at what was happening now some of them, even strangers to each -other, shook hands effusively, and some clapped others on the back. - -For the condemned ones were in sight. - -They came forth together from a small door in the wall of the _Hôtel -de Ville_, side by side, these two who were to suffer; one--he who was -to perish on the wheel--being nearly naked, and having on him nothing -but a short pair of breeches reaching to his knees and a sleeveless -singlet. He was a great, bull-chested man, with massive limbs that -would have become a gladiator, and, as he strode along attended by a -confessor with a crucifix in his hand, he seemed to the mob to appear -like one who would suffer severely. Therefore they roared and shrieked -at him, and some waved handkerchiefs and clapped and cried, while he -regarded them almost with contempt. Yet there was a glance in his eyes -as if he could not comprehend why all these people, whom he saw -through the falling flakes, should be thus fantastically dressed and -should also be masked. - -In truth it was a weird scene in the Place de Grève that morning, with -the condemned men approaching the scaffold through the snow, and with, -for the greater part of the spectators, these women, through the holes -of whose masks their eyes glittered, and whose grotesque costumes were -but little suited either to the occasion or the wintry morning. - -Yet still there was the other doomed one. He, however, approached the -platform very differently from the manner in which the man whose -portion was the wheel came forward. He, too, had by his side a -confessor with a crucifix--after each there walked the executioners, -and also the officials--and it seemed as if he would shelter himself -behind the robes of the priest. Yet sometimes, too, he smiled and -gibbered at the crowd as though it was composed of his friends, and -only when he saw the masked faces of the women and all the quaint -garbs of the onlookers did he seem astonished. - -At his appearance the crowd appeared startled, the shouts died down; -instead of them a whisper ran through their ranks. "He is mad! _Il est -fou!_" they cried, and again some women fainted. - -"Great God!" muttered Sir Charles Ames hoarsely, catching sight of -him. Then, suddenly, he said: "Kate--Lady Fordingbridge--do not look -out; for pity's sake do not!" And to his wife he made signs that she -should prevent her friend from glancing at the scaffold. - -But he was too late! Already she had done so; already she, peering -from the window of the coach, her own face masked, had seen the face -of the trembling, grinning wretch; and, since gradually the coachman -had edged the carriage through the crowd until it was not now ten -paces from the platform, he, too, saw her--the woman with her face -disguised--glaring at him. - -She herself was nearly fainting at this time, yet she could see the -headsman grasp his axe and motion to the victim to kneel down and -place his head upon the block, and in her agony she raised her hand to -her brow. In doing so it struck and loosened the mask, so that it fell -off, leaving her face exposed. - -And then the crowd's enjoyment culminated! - -For he saw the mask fall away from her--he saw her face. - -And with a wild scream--a scream that penetrated to the hearts of all -in the Place de Grève--he shrieked: - -"Kate! Kate! I have seen him! He forgives! He is a prisoner in----" -and fell back, dying, into the executioner's arms. - -The frenzied brain had failed at last. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -AFAR OFF STILL. - - -Kate had been, as already stated, far from well of late; the horrible -revelation of that snowy morning brought her near to death's door; -and, after she had been taken back to the Prince's house in a -prostrate condition and put at once to bed, her life was for some -weeks despaired of. - -Meanwhile she was carefully ministered to by all the Scotch ladies who -formed a part of the establishment, and also by Lady Ames, who refused -under any circumstances to quit Paris; though, indeed, her indulgent -husband did not press her to do so. - -"The King," she said, "may call me a Jacobite, may even prosecute me -for one when I return to London, yet I shall not leave Lady -Fordingbridge now--no, not even if I have to become an inmate of -Charles Edward's house. Oh, the horror of seeing one's husband brought -out to such a doom, villain though he was; the horror of it! How shall -she ever recover from such a catastrophe?" - -"How, indeed?" replied Sir Charles, who, worldling though he was, had -been as terribly shocked as she at the end of Fordingbridge's career. -"Yet it might have been worse. It was a merciful providence that saw -fit to end his life at the moment it did. Think, only think, if, added -to all else, she had seen his head fall, as she would have done had he -not died at the instant!" - -Lady Ames nodded her head reflectively as she agreed with him; then a -few moments later she said, speaking from the deep _fauteuil_ in which -she was sitting in their lodgings, which they had now taken on the -Quai des Théatins so as to be near her: - -"You heard his last words?--'I have seen him. He forgives. He is a -prisoner in----' and then died before he could conclude. What, -Charles, do you think they pointed to?" - -Sir Charles shrugged his shoulders; then he asked significantly, "What -does _she_ think they pointed to?" - -"Alas!" his wife replied, "she does not refer to them; seems scarcely -to have heard them uttered, or, if she did, not to have understood them. -Remember, she is but a woman, and, although it is impossible she should -regret his death, the horror, the shame of it, has broken her down -completely. She longed--any woman would long--to be free of a man who -had deceived her from the first as he had done, yet no woman could -desire her freedom should come in such an awful form. They say," she -continued, sinking her voice to an awestruck whisper, "that he died of -fright upon that scaffold." - -"Possibly," replied Sir Charles, "possibly. He was a cowardly fellow, -as it seemed to me, when Sholto and I had that interview with him in -your morning-room. I should not be surprised; other men have died on -the scaffold, at the foot of the gallows, before now. Why not he? -But," he said, changing the subject, "since we can do nothing, we must -be what assistance we can to her. Now, I propose to set about -discovering what he was led out to execution for; what his crime was. -It must have been something horribly grave to lead to a man of his -position being executed in France; for, although no treaty of peace -has as yet been signed between them and us, we are no longer at open -strife. And if," he added, "France would but send this Stuart packing, -and harbour him no longer, a lasting peace might be secured."[8] - -"What could it have been, think you?" his wife asked. "Something -terrible, to lead to such a conclusion." - -"Yes," he replied, "yes. Something terrible." - -Then he devoted himself to the task of discovering what that something -terrible could have been. - -Meanwhile, Kate, after being utterly broken down and lying between -life and death for something short of a month, began to mend at last, -her naturally fine though delicate constitution enabling her to -triumph over the blow she had received. Then she, too, told Lady Ames -that she must discover for her own future ease, if not peace of mind, -the reason why her wretched husband, after having disappeared for so -many months, had met his end in such a way. Also she undeceived her -friend in the belief that she had not heard that wretched husband's -last words. - -"For," she said, "I heard them all, clearly and distinctly. Heard -them! I hear them now--at night; all day; as I lie here. 'I have seen -him. He forgives. He is a prisoner in----.' And," she continued, -laying a white, wan hand on that of the other who sat by her bedside, -"I know well enough to whom he referred. It was to Bertie, to Mr. -Elphinston." - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed Lady Ames, who, in the excitement of all -that had happened since that terrible morning, had absolutely -forgotten that this other one was also as mysteriously missing as Lord -Fordingbridge had been--"great heavens! to Mr. Elphinston. Yes, it -must be. Each word would apply to him. O Kate! what does it all mean?" - -"God knows what it means; what it points to none can doubt--to the -fact that in the prison from which they brought him the other one is -incarcerated; though on what charge I cannot dream. Oh, my dear," she -exclaimed to her friend, "beg Sir Charles to find out that--those two -things, above all: the prison, and the reason why he is detained. -Then, when that is discovered, we may do something to obtain his -release, since I am known to so many who have influence." - -"Yes," Lady Ames acquiesced, "yes; Charles must do that. Yet there -are many prisons in Paris where men are kept unknown to the outer -world--La Force, Bicêtre, Vincennes, the Bastille. And what can he -have done to be sent to any one of them?" - -"Heaven alone knows. Yet, in France, men are sent on the most trivial -charges, on suspicion alone, sometimes. Oh, I beseech you, ask your -husband to discover first where he is, and then we may learn of what -he is accused, and do our best to free him." - -Sir Charles, with now a clue as to whom the miserable man had -referred, prosecuted his researches with great ardour, keeping ever -two points before him for elucidation: the first being the reason for -which Fordingbridge had been brought to execution, and the second the -prison from which he had been conducted to the Hôtel de Ville; for, -when he had discovered the latter, he would know almost of a surety -where Elphinston was. Yet almost as well might he have demanded -information of the stones in the streets and have expected to receive -an answer, as from those whom, with infinite trouble, he sought out. - -Commencing with the English ambassador--who professed himself -profoundly ignorant of the execution of Lord Fordingbridge, as well as -extremely shocked that such an outrage should have been committed upon -a nobleman of our country, no matter what his fault was--he next -managed to procure an interview with the Mayor of Paris and with the -Prefect of Police, the former a more important functionary then than -now. Yet all was useless; he got no further. After many visits to the -ambassador, the latter told him plainly that Lord Fordingbridge's -death would lead to very little discussion between the two countries; -moreover, any discussion was just now to be avoided. France and -England were by this time sick of warfare and wanted peace, and the -only thing that stood in the way of that peace was the espousal of the -Stuart cause by France. - -"And," remarked the ambassador quietly to Sir Charles, in a private -interview they had together, "the peace will come, and, if I am not -deceived, the Stuarts will go. The Chevalier de St. George at Rome -knows such to be the case; so does the Prince here; only they do not -run away from the storm. Time enough for that when it breaks; anyhow, -it won't be particularly hurtful--will only, indeed, lead to a -residence in Paris being exchanged for the capital of some other -country. Yes, everything points to peace--has begun, indeed, to do so -for some time back. Now," and his Excellency leaned forward and spoke -very gravely, "this Fordingbridge episode must not disturb that -impending peace." - -"No one wishes that it should do so," Sir Charles exclaimed; "we only -desire a little information. He had a wife, and, although he had -behaved as a thorough scoundrel to her, is it not natural that she -should wish to know what his crime was, and what prison he was -confined in before the morning when he was taken to what was intended -for his execution?" - -"Perfectly natural," replied the ambassador, with easy grace, -"perfectly natural on her part. Only, how is the information to be -obtained? I tell you frankly I cannot procure it for you. Lord -Fordingbridge was, in London, what they term here 'a suspect'; he was -under Government surveillance there; known to be a late Jacobite -avowing Hanoverian principles--yet known also, of late, to have been -one of the prime movers, if not _the_ prime mover, in the attempted -assassination of his Majesty before the invasion. Also he was known--I -assure you," the ambassador interjected still more gravely, as he bent -forward, "everything was known about him--to be the friend of Charles -Edward's followers, yet to be, also, their denouncer. He disappeared -from England, no one knew why, closed up his house, wrote to his -attorney to say he should probably not return for many years, and also -that the lady who had passed as the viscountess was not so in actual -fact." - -"It was a lie!" exclaimed Sir Charles. - -"Without doubt," the diplomatist continued suavely. "I only -mention all these things to show you that we need not trouble our -soon-to-be-beloved French neighbours about the Viscount Fordingbridge, -especially as, after all, it was a higher power than they who slew -him. Remember, he plotted to kill the King; he was Hanoverian or -Jacobite as it suited him; in fact, Sir Charles, he was contemptible. -Let us forget him." - -"Everyone is perfectly willing to do so, I assure your Excellency," -the baronet replied, in quite as easy a manner as the other was -capable of assuming; "he is quite done with on all sides. Only someone -else has to be remembered who is supposed to be in the prison he was -led out from--someone whose freedom many of us desire to procure." - -"An Englishman, of course?" - -"Yes. Not precisely so, though. A Scotchman, and----" - -"A Jacobite, perhaps?" the ambassador asked with a sweet smile. - -"There have been tendencies----" - -"Precisely. Good-morning. You can hardly----I protest, Sir Charles, -you can hardly expect King George's representative to interest himself -in that quarter. _Good_-morning." - -As regards the mayor and the _préfet_, he arrived no nearer. The -former, a rabid hater of all things British, told him that, although -he had no knowledge of what persons might be in the various prisons of -Paris, he was quite sure that, if any Englishmen were incarcerated, -they deserved to be. The _préfet_, more politely but with equal -firmness, said he also was not aware of what English people might be -detained in the prisons, but that, even if he possessed the knowledge, -he should not consider it his duty to give any information on the -subject. - -Then Kate, by this time recovered somewhat from the shock of her -husband's death, and, although she knew it not, rapidly mending in -health through the knowledge of the freedom that was now hers -undoubtedly, determined that she would lose no opportunity of herself -discovering where Bertie Elphinston was incarcerated; for that -Fordingbridge had spoken the truth in his last moments, half mad -though he seemed, she never had the faintest shadow of a doubt. - -First she wrote, as was natural, to Archibald Sholto, telling him -everything exactly as it occurred from the ending of the ball at the -opera house to Fordingbridge's last words. Also she asked him to -discover, if possible, for what crime her husband had been condemned -to death. Above all, she begged him to find out from what prison he -had been led to the Hôtel de Ville on the morning of his execution. -"Because," she wrote, "in that prison Bertie Elphinston, your friend, -your murdered brother's friend, will be found." - -Her letter reached Father Sholto at St. Omer, to which he had removed -from Amiens, and for some weeks he did not answer it; while, when he -did so, he simply wrote to say that he would endeavour to find out the -reason why Bertie should be incarcerated in the prison from which -Fordingbridge had been brought forth. - -"'Tis a cold answer at best," he muttered to himself one evening, as -he paced along the marshy swamps around St. Omer, unobservant of the -ripening fruit in the rich orchards all about, and even of the -glorious sunset behind him--"a cold answer, yet what else to make? I -cannot tell her that it must be the Bastille in which Bertie is -confined. Merciful Father in heaven!" he broke off, "what can he have -done to be there? Because it was to the Bastille that I, determined -never to loose my hold on Douglas's murderer, procured he should be -sent. Also I dread to tell her what Fordingbridge's crime was, who the -avenger of that crime is. I dread! I dread! It is more than I have -strength to dare." - -Still pacing the marshes, he turned over and over again in his mind -all that he had pondered on for so long, with--now added to all -that--the fresh knowledge derived through Kate that Elphinston was in -the Bastille. - -"In the Bastille! the Bastille! So that is where he disappeared to -without leaving a trace, a sign behind him. To the Bastille! It seems -incredible. What could he have done? A good officer, a favourite with -all. It is indeed incredible." - -Still musing, he approached the town, to be aroused from his -meditations, in spite of himself, by the clash of arms from the guard -being relieved at the gates, and by the blare of some trumpets from -the walls. They seemed to chide him, he thought, for being so -inactive; they seemed to reproach him for meditating so much and for -doing so little. - -"Only," he murmured as he almost wrung his hands, "what--what shall I -do? He is in the Bastille, and, though I could send that other one to -the same fortress, I have no power to obtain this one's release. Who -can help me? To whom shall I apply?" - -At last, tossing on his bed as he had so often wearily tossed before, -he thought of Tencin. The cardinal, he knew, was no longer in the -greatest favour, and had been sent back to his archbishopric as a -punishment; yet he could not be the Primate of France and still be -without some influence. If he could do nothing else, he could at least -find out on what charge Elphinston, an officer of the King's army, had -thus been thrown into prison. So he sat down and wrote to monseigneur. - -Of course more weeks passed thus--long ones to the poor prisoner in -the _calotte_, and almost as long to the woman outside who loved him -so, and to the man at St. Omer who was doing his best for him; then, -at last, the archbishop wrote, but could tell nothing. He was, he -said, astonished that such a thing could be. The Scotch officers had -served the King faithfully without exception; it was incredible that -one could be thus incarcerated. The only thing his Eminence could -suppose was that Elphinston must have mortally wounded or angered -someone of high position at court--someone much in favour with the -King himself, and able to procure a lettre de cachet from him without -any questions whatever being asked. He could imagine nothing else but -that. Then, having given vent to his surmise, he proceeded to suggest -to Sholto the very best steps he could take. - -"Of all men," his Eminence wrote, "there is none for your purpose -like D'Argenson. As you know, all the family are of the same -trade--lieutenants of police, Presidents of Parliament, judges; and -the present one, like his father before him, is not only one of his -Majesty's chief judges, but also the chief Examiner of the _internes_ -of the Bastille. The family is high in the world now, but some -generations back were low--forget not that. Yet, neither will your -remembrance of it have weight with D'Argenson. He has a heart of -marble if he has any heart at all, but with it a sense of justice that -it is impossible to excel. If Captain Elphinston is falsely detained, -or detained in error, D'Argenson will set the matter right, though he -may take months to do it." - -"Though he may take months to do it." Alas! it soon seemed to -Archibald Sholto that he was more like to take years. He had got into -communication with this important personage through the influence of -the cardinal, but once in communication had advanced, or seemed to -advance, no further. The judge wrote in his tablets, it is true, the -name of Elphinston, and said that if he were in any prison in France -he would take care that his case was inquired into sooner or later. -Beyond that he refused to say another word. - -And with this Sholto had to be content, and to try and persuade -himself that it was at least something toward the desired end. Also he -wrote to Kate, saying that it was from the Bastille that Fordingbridge -had been brought to execution, and that therefore doubtless it was the -Bastille in which Bertie was. And he bade her be of good heart and -hope for the best, since one of the principal examiners of prisoners -detained in the prisons had promised that his case should be inquired -into. - -"Though he may take months to do it!" the cardinal had said. Verily it -seemed as if he had indeed known the man of whom he wrote. - -For the months passed away outside the Bastille as they were passing -away inside, and to those without there came no news of him within; so -that, at last, Kate was led almost to believe that, as her husband had -lied to her from the very beginning, so he had lied to her at the end. -For it seemed to her that if Bertie had ever been in the gloomy -fortress, by which she now so often walked and to which she went and -stood before and gazed upon, he must have been released ere this, or -in some way have found an opportunity of communicating with her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -"A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." - - -It was in the early part of May, 1747, that Fordingbridge had been led -out to his doom, and month after month had passed, another May had -come and gone, and, at last, another December--the December of -1748--had come round. Then even the hopeless state into which Bertie -had been so long plunged was quickened back to life by the behaviour -of two people with whom he held some intercourse. - -Although Falmy and he had almost ceased now, from very weariness -during the passage of time--perhaps from heartbrokenness--to -communicate much, they did occasionally do so when either considered -that he had anything to tell the other that might cause him some faint -stir of interest; and one morning the former, appearing at his window, -made signs to Bertie that he was about to signal. Then when the other -nodded to show that he was attending to him, the Genevese traced on -his board the sentence, "Have you heard anything unusual?" To this -Bertie, with a bound of his heart--for, in spite of his long -incarceration and his growing hopelessness, he still had, although he -knew it not, a ray of courage, of presentiment, left in him--shook his -head, and by eager facial signs asked Falmy to explain his meaning. -But he, whether it might be that he was afraid of communicating too -swiftly anything he had gathered, only signalled back, "Say nothing to -De Chevagny as yet. It is rumoured that they have remembered him." - -"Remembered him," thought Bertie, "at last!" and as he so reflected he -looked round upon the poor old man sitting with his white head bent -over his knees, and wondered if, should this be true, it would be for -his good to go forth. - -"'Tis now forty-five years," he said to himself, "since he came here. -A lifetime! Of what use for him to regain his liberty? He said once to -me, when first I was brought to this room, that this awful place was -his only home. Heaven grant, if they release him, that he may not find -it to be so!" - -He watched Bluet's manner when he removed the remains of their next -meal--which meals had gradually, as month followed month, become more -sparse and meagre, possibly because De Launey had now come to suppose -that neither of them would ever be able to publish to anyone outside -those gloomy walls the story of his neglect and parsimony, to call it -by no other name--and as he did so he noticed that this good-natured -fellow seemed even kinder to the old man than ever. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" he began now, with his usual exclamation, varied only -occasionally with his _ma foi_--"_mon Dieu_, 'tis cold, Monsieur le -Marquis. Yet, I'll warrant me, there are blazing fires in many a happy -home in France. _Par exemple_, now, in the Château de Chevagny I will -dare to say they keep good fires for monsieur." - -The old man looked up at him with a startled, hurt look; then he said -softly: - -"Bluet, you have always been good and kind to me. In the ten years you -have been here I have come to look on you as a friend. Yet, when you -recall needlessly to me my--my long-vanished home--that I shall never -see more--you hurt, you wound me." - -"Ah! _avec ça!_" said Bluet, "I'll wager you see that home again yet. -Or, perhaps--_mon Dieu!_ why not?--the Hôtel de Chevagny in Paris -itself. Monsieur le Marquis is not to suppose we shall entertain him -for ever; no, no! Neither is he to imagine that because he has dwelt -with us so long--it is a little long, I concede--he shall never leave -us." - -The old man regarded him fixedly for a moment, then he sighed and gave -a true French shrug to his shoulders. "If," he exclaimed, in his -gentle, well-bred voice, the aristocratic tones of which he had never -lost--"if it pleases you to wound me, Bluet, you must do so. Yet I -know not why. We have always been such good friends." - -"Cease," said Bertie to the turnkey in a whisper. "Why play with an -old man thus?" - -"It is no play," Bluet replied in the same whisper, only that his was -a husky, vinous one. "He is remembered. D'Argenson comes to-morrow -night. He will go before him. It may be that on the next day he will -be free. Break it to him if you can." - -"You are certain of this?" Bertie asked, intensely startled and -interested now. "Certain? I thought you told me long ago that no one -knew who the judges would call before them." - -"_Ordinairement_," replied Bluet, while he glanced at the marquis, who -was again warming himself at the fire, "no one does. But this is -different. The minister sent a day or so ago asking if there was one -incarcerated here of his name. They say the primate, Tencin, stirred -him to it. Then--then--_voyez-vous_--D'Argenson's secretary came -and--poof!--we hear many things, we jailors! D'Argenson will come -himself to-morrow night, and, _mort de ma vie!_ we shall lose the -prison flower! Where--where will he go to? May the good God protect -him!" - -The name of Tencin roused many bitter reflections in Bertie's -heart, many recollections of how it was this cardinal and archbishop -who had been the mainspring, the prime mover, in the Scots' invasion -of--of--was it a year ago, or two years ago? He had to pause and count -over to himself the time ere he could recollect, for he seemed to have -lost all power now of reckoning the period that he had been in the -Bastille. Then, when he had arrived at the remembrance that he had -absolutely been here for two winters and was in the third December of -his detention, his mind went back to the name of Tencin again. Tencin, -he repeated--Tencin, the minister who brought about the invasion of -England, who was the friend, almost, indeed, the patron, of his own -master, Charles Edward. Yet he, a devoted follower and adherent of -that Prince, a man who had followed him until the last, had had to -suffer so cruel an imprisonment as this which he had undergone! -Tencin! Would he allow that if he knew of it? Would he let one who had -served the Prince so well be incarcerated there? It might be not, if -he but knew that such was the case. Only, how could the fact be -brought to the powerful cardinal's knowledge? That was the question. - -He glanced at the marquis, who was still sitting gazing into the -embers, and he remembered that Bluet had said again, before he left -the _calotte_ with the remains of the supper, "Break it to him if you -can." Well, he would try and break it to him; only, he prayed Heaven -that in the breaking he might not kill the old man with the shock. -And, if that did not happen, then--why, then, perhaps, through him the -cardinal might be apprised of how a faithful adherent of the cause he -had championed was wrongfully immured in the Bastille--immured, -neglected, and forgotten. - -"Monsieur de Chevagny," he said, drawing up another chair by the side -of the old man, "are you fatigued to-night? You seem so--seem more -weary than usual. You are not ill?" In truth, the old marquis had been -presenting signs of late that his strength was failing rapidly, and -that he was fast nearing the only escape from the Bastille that had -for forty-five years seemed likely to come to him; and to-night he -appeared even more feeble, as well as more absent-minded and -lethargic, than ever; also he was more dazed than was his wont. But he -replied: - -"No, no, not ill--or only so from having lived for seventy years; and -also from having passed forty-five of those years in prison. A long -while! A long while! A lifetime! My father's whole life was not so -long." - -"Yet," said Bertie soothingly, "it may still be prolonged; it may----" - -"Would you desire for me that it should be prolonged?" the other -asked, lifting his eyes to Bertie's. "Is that to be wished, think -you?" - -For a moment the younger man hesitated, then he said, speaking very -gently: - -"Yes, if--if you could find happiness thereby. For suppose--only -suppose--that some great chance should come to you; some undreamed of, -unsuspected chance, by which you might be enabled to see once more the -wife you so tenderly loved, the little child you left sleeping on her -bosom----" - -"Stop! For God's sake, stop!" De Chevagny exclaimed. "You torture me; -you wring my heart worse, far worse, than ever Bluet did. You conjure -up hopes that my senses tell me can never be realized; you bring -before me thoughts and ideas that I have been trying to bury and put -away for many, many years now." - -And, as he spoke, Bertie saw his old eyes fill with tears; again saw -those tears drop from his eyelids to his snowy beard. - -"Oh, my friend, my fellow-prisoner," he said, "believe me, I would not -torture you unnecessarily. Think you that I, before whom this living -tomb yawns as it yawned before you years ago--that I, who, Great -Powers! may be here, in this very room, forty years hence--would say -one word to distress you? No, no. Never, never! But, listen to me, I -beseech you; and, above all, listen to me calmly. I have something to -tell you, something that I pray earnestly may make you very, very -happy." - -As he spoke he dropped on one knee by the old man's side, while, -taking one of his hands in his, he passed his arm round the other's -waist, and, drawing him to him, supported his now trembling form as a -son might have done. And as he did so he felt how worn and thin his -poor old body was. - -"What is it?" whispered the marquis. "What is it? You--you frighten -me! I--I cannot bear a shock." - -"Pray, pray," continued Bertie, "do not be frightened nor alarmed. -Indeed, you have no cause. But, oh, my dear and honoured friend and -companion, there has come strange news into this place, strange news -for you--nay, start not! Strange news! It is said--strive to be calm, -I beseech you--that, that--be brave! as you have been so long--your -release is at hand. It may come soon, at any moment now." - -He felt the old man's feeble frame quiver in his grasp; he felt him -draw a long breath, and saw him close his eyes. Then for a long while -he was silent, sitting enfolded in the other's arms as though he were -asleep or dead. But at last he spoke: - -"If it should be so, if this is true, what will become of me? Can I -hope to find my wife alive? And for my little child that was--she is -almost old now, if she still lives. She will not know me; will not, -perhaps, believe I am her father." - -"Oh, how can she doubt it? And for your wife--she need not be dead; -how many women live far beyond your own age--why, my mother is near -it. Look hopefully forward, therefore, I beg of you, to your release; -think of what happiness may be yours still." - -But, although Bertie used every argument to prove to De Chevagny that -there must be still some period of such happiness before him, however -short that period might be, he could not bring him to so regard his -forthcoming release. Above all, he could not make him believe for one -instant that he would ever meet his wife or child upon earth; and he -reiterated again and again that, if he could not have them with him, -he would almost prefer to remain a prisoner. - -"I have grown used to the filth and squalor of this place," he said, -"to my wretched rags. My hotel across the river, even if it has not -been long since confiscated, would be no fit abode for me. Better -remain here without hope, better forget that I was ever a free man, -loving others and beloved myself, than go forth into the world where I -am unknown. And," he said tenderly, "I have at least one friend -here--I have you." - -On the next day, however, when Bluet had told him that beyond all -doubt he was to be taken before D'Argenson that night, he began to -show a little more interest in what was occurring, and, at last, to -look forward eagerly to the hour when the Examiner should arrive. - -"For," he said, "I shall have a piteous tale to tell him; perhaps when -he hears it he may be disposed to look into the cases of some others -who are here. There is that poor man Falmy, over the way; he, too, -should be released." - -At six o'clock the King's Lieutenant paid a visit to the _calotte_--De -Launey had never been known to visit a "guest" from the time he was -first received by him--and asked the marquis whether he would choose -to have a change of linen and some fresher clothes in which to appear -before the judges; but this offer he firmly refused. - -"As I am," he said, "as I have been for so many years," and he held up -his arm, from which his sleeve hung in a hundred tatters; "so I will -go before him, and, if he releases me, so I will go forth into the -world again." - -"That," said the King's Lieutenant, politely and with a slight smile, -"Monsieur le Marquis must know will not be permitted. No guest leaves -us who does not sign a paper in which he undertakes most solemnly to -divulge nothing of what has occurred within. He would scarcely, -therefore, be allowed to depart in such a garb as that in which -Monsieur le Marquis is now unhappily clad. Besides, the illustrious -family of De Chevagny is rich; the head of the house will scarcely -adorn himself with such raiment when he goes back to his proper -position." - -"Rich!" the old man echoed with bitter scorn--"rich! What have I to do -with riches now? If I find not my wife or child, I shall not live a -week in my unaccustomed lot. A garret such as this will do well enough -for me." - -The Lieutenant departed after this, saying that the marquis--as he was -scrupulous now to call him on every occasion--might expect to be sent -for early in the evening; and those two, who had grown to be such -friends, sat down to pass what, with the exception of the night, would -probably be their last hours together. All was arranged between them -as to what was to be done on Elphinston's behalf when once De Chevagny -was free--he was first to seek out his mother and Kate, being careful -to say nothing to the latter about her husband and his end until he -discovered what she knew about him, and in any circumstances to be -very discreet in what he revealed. Then he was to strive in every way -to bring Elphinston's case before Tencin, so that something might be -done as soon as possible. - -"For," said Bertie, "never will I believe that when once his Eminence -knows that I have been thrust in here under what must be, cannot help -but be, a false charge, a mistake, he will allow me to remain. Oh, my -friend, my friend, lose no time, I beseech you, in releasing me from -this death in life!" - -"Have no fear," replied De Chevagny, "I shall remember. First your -mother, Madame Elphinston, at Passy; then to her who was that -creature's wife; then--then to the King or to--what is his -name?--Tencin! Tencin! I shall not forget. Yet, oh, my friend, how -shall I leave you here--alone! And you so young--so young! Not yet in -your prime." - -"Fear not for me," replied Elphinston, assuming a hopefulness he by no -means felt; for he doubted if, even with the Marquis de Chevagny at -liberty and free to plead his cause, his release was likely to be -obtained. If there was, indeed, as the King's Lieutenant had hinted, -some terrible and powerful enemy in the background whom he had injured -without knowing it, it was possible that even Tencin's exertions and -influence might be of no avail. Yet still he sought to cheer the -other. - -"Fear not for me. Once you are free to bring my case before the King I -have no fear myself"--then he started, for he heard the clanging of -the doors. "Hark!" he said, "hark! They are coming for you. Oh, I pray -God that when you return from your examination you may do so with your -liberty assured--as it must be! As it must be! Otherwise they would -not send for you at all," and he kissed the old man's hand as he -spoke, and whispered to him to be calm. - -"God bless you!" the marquis replied--"God bless you! I will be -brave." - -As he did so the door was unlocked, and once more the King's -Lieutenant came in, accompanied by four turnkeys, one of whom was -Bluet, who behind the officer's back kept gesticulating and nodding -his head and winking at Bertie--who stood a little behind De -Chevagny--in an extraordinary manner. - -"The fellow had indeed a good heart," he thought to himself, "which -even the miseries he is witness of in this living hell are unable to -suppress. One would think that De Chevagny was his dearest friend, so -overjoyed is he." And still, as he reflected thus, Bluet's grimaces -and becks and nods continued. - -"Réné Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de Chevagny," read out the King's -Lieutenant from a paper in his hand, "the Viscomte d'Argenson, Judge -and Examiner of his Majesty's fortresses, desires your presence." - -"I--I have waited the summons long," the marquis said, with quiet -dignity; "I am ready to obey it." - -And he turned round to touch Bertie's hand in a temporary farewell, -when again the voice of the King's Lieutenant was heard reading from -the paper: - -"Elphinston--baptismal name uncertain--captain of the Regiment of -Picardy, formerly of the Regiment of Scots Dutch----" - -"What!" exclaimed Elphinston, dazed by being summoned at last so -unexpectedly, and also at the last description--"what!" - ---"the Vicomte d'Argenson, Judge and Examiner of his Majesty's -fortresses, desires your presence." - -"I, too, am ready," he replied in a low voice. - -"_Avancez!_" said the Lieutenant, and at the word the party left the -_calotte_ and descended the massive stairs, the officer with two -turnkeys leading the way, while Bluet and another followed. - -And as they went to the Hall of Judgment, Bertie whispered to the -marquis: - -"I begin to understand. I know now why I have been here so long. It -was another Elphinston, not I, who served in the Scots Dutch--the -Elphinston who eloped with the daughter of the Duc de Baufremont!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -FREE. - - -When the stairs had been descended, at the foot of which were several -soldiers who, as ever, removed their hats and placed them before their -faces so as not to observe the prisoners, they passed through a little -door into a great court and, traversing this, entered what was known -and served as the arsenal or armoury. There Bertie observed a number -of gorgeously dressed footmen and coachmen seated about, whom he -supposed to belong to the judges, as well as a number of exempts and -several messengers of the Bastille, known to all Paris by the badge -they wore--a brass plate, having on it an engraved club full of points -and spikes, with round it the motto "_Monstrorum Terror_"--most of -whom, perhaps from long habit, regarded the party very indifferently. -Leaving this place behind, they traversed another court, and then, -after the King's Lieutenant had struck three times on an iron-studded -door, they were admitted to a large, stately hall well warmed and -lighted. It was the hall known as the _Salle de Justice_. - -At one end of the hall, seated in great padded chairs let into niches, -were four judges clad in scarlet robes, with huge wigs upon their -heads, while one, who was undoubtedly D'Argenson, wore above his wig a -richly laced three-cornered hat, as a symbol that he represented the -sovereign. At his feet sat his registrar, or secretary, with a long -table before him covered with a great crimson cloth that hung down to -the ground, and also with innumerable papers, while at either end of -the table stood sergeants-at-arms with maces. In the midst of the -court, or hall, near to these, was a railed-in space, within it two -small wooden stools, and to these the sergeants motioned that both De -Chevagny and Bertie should approach, while, as they did so, the -registrar handed up to each of the judges papers which were copies of -the interrogatories about to be administered. At another table, with -some papers also before him, sat De Launey, shivering and shaking and -smiling in exactly the same way that Bertie had seen him do more than -two years ago. Poor wretch! smiles and shivers were alike to be soon -over for him now; in another few months the worst form of paralysis -was to end his life. - -As De Chevagny and Bertie took their seats upon the stools in the -inclosure, the judges half rose and bowed to them (a ceremony always -observed, except when the worst class of _détenus_ were brought before -them), and, on their salutation being returned, D'Argenson, glancing -down his paper of interrogatories, prepared to address De Chevagny, -the first on his list. This judge, who sat as president, and was -reported to work harder than any other twenty men in the French King's -service, sitting, indeed, in the law courts during the whole of each -day, and being able, consequently, to only make his examinations of -the prisons at night, was a strange man to observe. His complexion was -as swarthy as a mulatto's, his eyes enormously large and black, his -eyebrows each as big as an ordinary man's moustache, while his -reputation for austerity had spread through the whole kingdom. Yet he -possessed also, in contradistinction to his appearance, a voice as -soft and sweet as a girl's, or De Launey's own, and hands--one of -which, covered with brilliants, generally lay extended on the desk -before him--as white as marble. - -"Monsieur the Marquis de Chevagny," he began now--while as he did so -the old man rose from the stool and faced him as he leaned upon the -rail--"Monsieur de Chevagny, you have been a resident in this fortress -for a long period. I perceive you came here on the 30th of January, -1704," and the silvery tones ceased for a moment as though awaiting an -answer. - -"It is true," De Chevagny replied, "true." And he bent his head. - -"The charge against you was the writing of a contumelious lampoon upon -the then Marquise de la Vallière and holding her up to contempt and -derision. For that the lettre de cachet concerning you was signed -by--by a then illustrious personage. That letter was an open one, -unlimited as to the continuance of its effect----" - -"The charge was true," murmured the marquis, "the punishment cruel -beyond all thought." - -"Monsieur le Marquis," interposed the judge, while his voice sounded -even sweeter, more silvery than before, "I must remind you of what -doubtless in the passage of years you have forgotten: There must be no -criticism here, no discussion of those who are, or once were, -all-powerful. Monsieur, I represent the King's Majesty; let me beg of -you to offend--unintentionally, no doubt--no more." - -He paused a moment, and it seemed as if some bird had ceased to warble -its innocent notes; then he continued: - -"The family of La Vallière is now practically extinct. The King, in -his sublime goodness, is therefore pleased to ordain that you shall no -longer be asked to remain here. Monsieur le Marquis de Chevagny, -permit me to congratulate you. You may depart at any time most -convenient to you." - -The old man raised his hand to his long white beard and stroked it -thoughtfully for a moment; then he, in his clear aristocratic tones, -replied: - -"You congratulate me, monsieur, on what? On a wasted, ruined life, -perhaps; a prison for forty-five years; an existence given me by God -and taken away by man; a home desolated; a broken heart--nay, two, if -not three, broken hearts; and all for what? A youthful folly, a joke -made in the exuberance of a young man's spirit. Oh, monsieur, spare me -your congratulations! If you were even born when I first came here, -think, think of the passage of those years, think of what lives you -have known, think of the use they have been put to, and then reflect -on mine. Surely your congratulations are the last bitter drop." - -"Monsieur de Chevagny," replied the judge, "I must not argue with you. -Yet one word I will say: I had no part in sending you here; my share -is only to tell you that you are free." And he took up in his jewelled -hand a fresh batch of papers, and, stooping forward, whispered -something to the registrar. - -As the old man tottered back to the stool he had risen from, that -functionary said: - -"Elphinston, captain of the Regiment of Picardy, formerly of the -Regiment of Scots Dutch, answer to your name." - -"My name," said Bertie, advancing to the rail and standing as the -marquis had previously stood, "is Elphinston, and I am of the Regiment -of Picardy. I never served in the Scots Dutch Regiment." - -With an almost imperceptible start D'Argenson bent his dark, luminous -eyes on him, as did all the other judges, who had sat like dead men in -their seats, while De Launey, with the King's Lieutenant and the -registrar, also cast surprised looks on him. - -"You say that you were never in the regiment of Scots Dutch, -monsieur?" asked D'Argenson, still holding the papers in his hand and -glancing at them; "what, then, is your _nom de baptême?_" - -"Bertie." - -The judge glanced again at the papers, then he conferred for a moment -with the other judges, and then spoke again: - -"Pardon us our ignorance of your Scotch name, monsieur; but this name -'Bertie' we do not know it. Albert we know, but not Bertie. Is that -the whole name, or a part of one--an abbreviation?" - -"My name is Bertie, _tout court_." - -The white hand of the judge rubbed his chin softly, and he said: - -"You were never in the Scots Dutch Regiment? And, _par exemple_, you -will perhaps also tell us if you are the husband of Mademoiselle de -Baufremont, daughter of the duke of that name." - -"I am not. I am the husband of no woman." - -A visible stir went through the others in the _Salle de Justice_ at -these words, while D'Argenson shrugged his shoulders. Then, sweetly as -ever, he continued: - -"There are many noble Scotch gentlemen serving his Majesty. Would it -be known to you if there were any others of your name--your family -name--in the army?" - -"I know of one other," Bertie replied. "_He_ was in the Scots Dutch." - -"Ha!" exclaimed D'Argenson. "And his first name, what is that?" - -"Basil." - -D'Argenson threw down his papers and for several minutes conferred -again with the other judges; and during the time he did so Bertie -could not but muse on how the Bastille and its accursed uses had been -lent to one more crime, one more mistake that was in itself a crime. -For that he had suffered for the man who was his namesake there could -now be no doubt; the only wonder in his mind was that it had never -occurred to him before, never dawned upon him that such was the case. -And now he only prayed that the judges might never have it come to -their knowledge that, innocently enough, he had rendered assistance to -that other Elphinston. - -"God knows," he mused, "that I have suffered sufficiently already by -doing so; 'twas through that assistance that I lost my love; surely I -shall not also have to suffer further; surely the Duke de Baufremont's -vengeance will not be permitted to still fall heavily on me." And once -more he prayed that his share in the transaction might not be known. - -Then D'Argenson spoke again: - -"_Monsieur le Capitaine_," he said, "your answers to my -interrogatories appear to show that, by grave misfortune, you have -been confused with another man. Such errors are always to be -regretted; nay, more, when they have been made, it is always the -custom of his Majesty--a most gracious sovereign!--to make atonement -for them and to nobly recompense those who have been injured. I shall -to-morrow take steps to ratify your statement: if I find it accurate, -you may expect to go away from here in a very short time. His Majesty -will sign your acquittance at once. You will be free." - -"Sir," replied Bertie, "I might have been free two years and a half -ago, might never have suffered this long misery--while much other -misery might have also been spared to those whom I love and who love -me--had this examination taken place when I was first brought here." - -"Doubtless," D'Argenson replied coldly. "But the laws of France have -their mode of procedure and cannot be altered for any case in -particular. _Monsieur le Capitaine_, your examination is concluded," -and turning to his brother judges, he said, as he rose: - -"_Mes frères, la séance est terminée_." - -Of what use was it, Bertie asked himself as he and De Chevagny were -conducted back to the _calotte_, to rage or fret against this legal -wall of adamant? As well hurl one's self against a rock and hope to -make an impression on it. For a fault not his own, he had been forced -to endure two years and more of miserable imprisonment, and now, by -chance alone, he was likely to be set free. - -Yet the very word "free" sent his blood dancing and tingling in his -veins once more; it brought to him the happy hope of seeing his -mother, his beloved Kate again. And when he saw her, there would be no -further barrier between them; she, too, was free--free to become his -wife. Then, at last, their long vexations would be over--at last--at -last! - -"Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, _mes enfants_," said Bluet -to them when once more they were back in the _calotte_, "it will not -be for long now. Meanwhile, to-morrow, I will see if I cannot snatch -from that villainous cellarer a bottle of the best _vin de Brecquiny_ -wherewith to celebrate your sortie. And I--though I am but a poor -drinker at best--will drink to your happy restoration to your friends -and families." - -As the turnkey had said, so it happened. From the next morning their -meals were improved; the best wine was served to them; everything gave -promise that their imprisonment was at an end. One morning--which was -the third day from their examination by D'Argenson--Bluet, accompanied -by another turnkey, came in, bearing a large basket, in which was a -quantity of new linen, with some ruffles and lace for both of them. -Then, next, the tailor was brought in to prepare a plain but -serviceable suit for the marquis, and also to repair Bertie's clothes, -his suit being, though much used, still wearable. And, to complete -all, Bluet arrived on another morning with the necessary implements -for cutting and trimming their hair and beards, which, with the -exception of the attentions they had been able to render each other -with a rusty pair of scissors they had discovered imbedded in the -filth of the floor, had not been done at all since the younger -prisoner had been there. - -"_Avec ça!_" exclaimed their cheerful janitor, "messieurs will go -forth into the world again as though to a _fête_ or a wedding. _Ma -foi!_ Monsieur le Marquis, you look not fifty years of age. You will -both do very well. Ah, but the brave day is at hand!" - -And at last it came. One evening, a week now after the judge had -pronounced that the Marquis de Chevagny might go back to life, and had -said that the Captain Elphinston might cherish hopes of doing so, the -King's Lieutenant again made his appearance in the _calotte_, -unaccompanied this time by anyone but Bluet, for the purpose of -unbarring the doors. - -"Messieurs," he said, "have the goodness to accompany me to the _Salle -de Justice_. The commissary attends you to hand to you your -_permission de sortie_. You will depart to-morrow, if it so pleases -you." - -Rising, they followed him through all the passages and courts as -before, and arrived at the great hall. Here they observed that the -judges were not again present, but in their place, and seated at the -scarlet-draped table of the judges' registrar was the commissary, a -little, old, wizened man, who bowed to them as they entered. - -"Be seated, I beg," he said, motioning them to two chairs placed in -front of him--two _fauteuils_ very different in appearance and comfort -from the stools that had previously been accorded them; and when they -had done so, he instantly read from two papers before him: - -"Réné Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de Chevagny," he began; "his -Majesty, King Louis XV, graciously accords you this his permission to -depart out of this fortress, the Bastille, from this present moment. -This permission I now hand to you as a certificate of his Majesty's -gracious goodness." Here he held the paper out over the table to the -old man, who took it from him without uttering one word. Then the -commissary continued: "And in consideration of your having been unable -to attend to your own interests, properties, and estates of late, his -Majesty ordains that you may draw upon the captain of this his -fortress, Monsieur Jourdan de Launey, for a sum not exceeding fifty -_Louis d'ors_, for your present expenses, to be by you recouped later -on." - -"I--I want nothing," De Chevagny began, when, as he did so, his eye -fell upon Bluet standing near and behind the King's Lieutenant, and -remembering all the fellow's kindness to him--kindness which he had -never been under any obligation to show he ceased what he was saying; -while the commissary continued: - -"From this moment you are at liberty to depart. Monsieur le Marquis -you will consult your own pleasure as to when you do so." - -Then turning to Bertie and addressing him, he again read out the -rigmarole about "his Majesty's gracious goodness," and handed to him -his certificate of freedom. And also he informed him that he, too, -could draw on De Launey for fifty _Louis d'ors_, to be recorded later -on. - -"If, monsieur," Bertie exclaimed, however, at this, "I draw them, I -know not how they are ever to be refunded. I was an officer in the -French King's army when I was brought here. I can scarcely suppose I -am one now. When I quit this prison I am as like as not to be a beggar -in the streets. This incarceration has stolen my life from me for two -years; now I am free, its effect will be to deprive me of the means -whereby to live in the future." - -"_Monsieur le Capitaine_, I think not. I am authorized to tell you -that a commission in his Majesty's service will still be provided for -you, in consequence of your residence here being due to a slight -mistake." - -"So be it," said Bertie; "I rejoice to hear that so much justice will -be done to me." Yet, as he spoke, he took a vow that never more would -he serve the French King, never more draw sword for a country in which -such errors could happen as that which had imprisoned him for those -two years. - -"Now," said the commissary, "you must please to sign these papers, and -to swear upon your honours that you will neither reveal, when outside -this fortress, any of the situations of the various chambers, -apartments, towers, halls, or courts of which you have obtained any -knowledge, nor the names of any other persons here with which you have -become acquainted in any way. Also you must, upon your honours, state -that you carry no messages from anyone within this fortress to anyone -whatsoever outside of it, either written or verbal. And when you do go -forth at the time it shall please you, you will also sign another -paper stating that you have been deprived of nothing, neither money, -clothes, jewellery, nor trinkets of which you were in possession when -you arrived." - -De Chevagny shrugged his shoulders as he answered: - -"I may sign with safety. I have no recollection of anything I had -about me when I came here in the year 1704. I know not what I had. And -what matters it? What matters it?" - -"As for me," said Elphinston, "I had but a few gold pieces in my purse -when I came here, and they have been exhausted long ago in payment for -my bed. There can be nothing left; and if there is, I want it not." - -That night, however, both he and De Chevagny decided to draw each upon -De Launey for ten _Louis d'ors_, with which to reward the faithful -Bluet, and also--for such was the custom even in this hateful place-to -give a treat to the turnkeys. So, ere they slept for the last time in -their miserable chamber, these men were called in, and, bringing with -them various sorts of wine, chocolate, pasties, and ratafias, were -rewarded also with pieces of money, while they drank to the health of -those whom they termed the "parting guests." - -One other had, however, to be taken a sad farewell of--one whom there -was no likelihood of their ever meeting again in this world--the -unhappy Genevese, Falmy. At daybreak Bertie was at the window looking -for him, and a few moments later he appeared at his; and the tears -streamed down the former's eyes so as almost to blind him as for the -last time he sent his message across to the opposite tower. "Farewell! -I leave with De Chevagny," he signalled. "God ever bless you, and may -He at last release you! Is there no message for anyone outside?" For, -in spite of the promise he had given to take none from any prisoner, -he felt absolved from it when he thought of the bitter agony of those -incarcerated still. Indeed, such was the feeling of all who went forth -from that living death. - -But Falmy shook his head sadly; then, listlessly, as though hopeless -and heartbroken, he signalled back, "None; I have no friends. If I -ever had any, they are dead or have forgotten me. Farewell!" and, with -a look upon his face that Bertie never forgot, he left the window. - -Down through the corridors and passages they passed, away through the -_corps de garde_, with, for the last time, their laced hats held -before their faces, until they reached the wicket and so to the great -gates which opened to admit their exit. And a moment later, as the -great clock struck nine above their heads, they stood outside the -prison walls.[Note D] They were free! - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. - - -The turnkey had provided a _fiacre_ for them, and into this they -stepped from the outside of the great gate, while Bluet; looking as -sad as though he were parting for ever from his dearest friends, asked -where the man should be instructed to drive them to? Strange to say, -neither had given any thought to this matter, though, had Bertie been -alone, no consideration would have been necessary on the subject. His -mother's house would have been his destination; for, although often -and often in his misery he had mused on whether she was still alive, -and on whether she would ever fold him in her arms again, nothing -would have kept him from going straight to Passy and at once resolving -his doubts. - -But now, with De Chevagny by his side--a poor old man cast back into -an unknown world after nearly half a century's exclusion from it--he -could not leave him; he must be his first consideration. - -"Dear friend," he said, while still Bluet stood by the coach door, -"have you thought of where we shall proceed to? Will you go to your -own home first, or come to mine--if--if--God! if I have any left -there. At least we will not part--or not now, not now." - -The poor, old marquis wrapped the dark blue cloak they had provided -him with around him as the other spoke, for the December morning, -although bright and sunny, was cold and crisp, then he said, "Home! to -my home? What home have I?" - -"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Bluet, consoling to the last, "_sans doute_, a -beautiful home. Monsieur must well remember--even I, a prison -watch-dog, have heard of it--the Hôtel de Chevagny. Monsieur will -doubtless go there. And, _parbleu!_ when I have a day's release from -my labours, I shall make a little visit to the marquis. He will be -glad to see his old friend and servant, Bluet _N'est ce pas?_" - -"Yes," the marquis whispered, dazed, as it seemed to the others, by -his freedom--"yes, I shall always be glad to see you, Bluet. Let us -go--let us go," and he held out his hand to the turnkey, as did -Bertie. - -"Hôtel de Chevagny," said Bluet to the driver; "you know it without -doubt. Away with you to the house of the noble marquis!" - -"De Chevagny!" said the man from his box--"De Chevagny! No, I know it -not. What is the quarter?" - -"St. Germain, naturally. Monsieur," looking in again at the window, -"the name of the street--of the street, monsieur?" he repeated, seeing -that the marquis appeared to scarcely understand him. But a moment -later he muttered: - -"The Rue Charles Martel. That is it." - -"Bon!" said the coachman, he having caught the words--"_bon!_ Rue -Charles Martel," and as once more Bluet exchanged farewells with them, -he lashed his horse and drove off, while De Chevagny cast one last -look on the Bastille and shuddered. - -"Forty-five years," he murmured, "forty-five years. A young man when I -entered there, an old man now--worn out and near his end." - -"Nay, nay," said Bertie, "do not think so. Remember, you may find many -alive who are still dear to you. Let us pray so at least." - -But the marquis, burying his head in the collar of his cloak, spoke no -more, though Bertie, regarding him from time to time, saw that he was -gazing out and observing the places they passed by; and as they -traversed the Pont Neuf, he observed a brighter look in his face than -he had hitherto seen. "This, at least, has not changed," he muttered. -"It is the same as when I was young--as when I passed over it to go to -the Bastille. Forty-five years ago!--forty-five years ago!" - -Presently--for it was no great distance from the Quartier St. Antoine -to that of St. Germain--the hackney coach arrived at the end of the -Rue Charles Martel; a long, sad-looking street, having high walls all -along it into which were set great wooden gates, and behind which were -large courtyards belonging to the various mansions or hotels of the -nobility. Yet, as they entered this street and observed a large, -modern, and very gaunt-looking house, De Chevagny seemed more -bewildered than ever, and raised his finger to his forehead as though -confused. - -"I--I--do not understand," he said. "Has the man mistaken the way? -Bellancourt's house stood here--years ago--when I was a lad. I have -played in the gardens often--oh, so often, with his children! It was -an old, old house, built in the days of Henri of Navarre. Where is it? -That is not it." - -"This is a new building," replied Bertie; "is it not possible the -present owner may have removed the old one to make way for this?" - -"Yes, yes," De Chevagny whispered--"yes, it is forty-five years ago. I -should have remembered. Forty-five years ago. And sixty since I played -under the cedars in the garden. My God!" - -The hackney carriage rolled along slowly, for in this old-fashioned -street the road, like so many in Paris in those days, was far from -good, and a slight thaw had now set in which rendered it particularly -heavy. Then, looking out, the marquis pointed to an antique mansion -the roofs of which could be seen behind the walls. - -"See," he said excitedly, "see, it is the house of De Montpouillan, -the man whom the King delighted to honour! I was at a ball there three -nights before I was taken, and he--Louis, the Grand Monarque--was -there too. He danced in the ballet[9] with the daughter of St. -Hillaire, a blonde whose hair shone like the gold of a new _Louis -d'or_. _Mon Dieu!_ observe--there is a hatchment over the house. -Someone is dead." - -Again Bertie tried to soothe him by reminding him that, whomsoever it -might be, he could scarcely have known them after his long and -terrible absence; yet this consolation, unhappy as it was, only served -to remind him of his own sad fate and to set him once more murmuring, -"Forty-five years!" - -But a moment afterwards he gave a gasp--a cry, indeed--and exclaimed: - -"My house! my house! See, see, it is there!" and called feebly to the -driver to stop. - -Above the walls Bertie could perceive the red tiles of a long, low -hotel; could observe also that in many places some of those tiles had -fallen away and left great gaps yawning; and also that the whole gave -signs of being in a ruinous condition. The huge, double wooden gates -hung loosely on their hinges, while one or two beams in them bulged -inward from rottenness and the lock, once large and handsome and a -triumph of the smith's art, was rusted and almost fallen from its -wooden socket. - -"Alas! alas!" thought Elphinston to himself, "it is not here that he -will find his wife or child. He must look farther for them--perhaps in -heaven!--who knows? Poor De Chevagny--poor, unhappy man!" - -There hung a great iron bell-handle on the side of the vast door, and -the marquis, grasping it, rang a peal that could be heard echoing in -the house itself across the courtyard--a peal that met with no -response. Then they waited for a minute or two, the marquis leaning on -Bertie's arm and gazing up wistfully into his face, as though seeking -to read therein what his thoughts might be, and the driver staring -over the wall at the unshuttered and uncurtained windows. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" the man muttered to himself so that they could not hear -him, "after having dwelt in the _palais des grenouilles_[10] so long, -it is not strange if the master is no more expected," and he cracked -his whip vigorously as though hoping, perhaps, to thereby attract some -attention from within. - -Still the old man looked up sadly at his companion's face, and -muttered, "My home, my home!" so ruefully that the other had to turn -away from him so that he should not see his eyes; and then Bertie, -seizing the bell handle, rang a strong, lusty peal upon it. - -"If there is anyone here," he said, "that should arouse them. The bell -has a tongue that might wake the dead!" - -He could have bitten his own tongue out a moment later, for at his -words, especially the last one, De Chevagny started, and then -muttered, "The dead--the dead. Ah! it is the dead who never come back -to us. They are gone. All are gone! When shall we meet again? Never, -never, never!" - -As though in answer to that question which his own weary heart had -answered for itself, a door was heard to open in the front of the -house--it creaked wofully on its hinges--and then steps were also -heard upon the stones of the courtyard, the steps of someone in -sabots, and next the key was turned in the rusty lock and one half of -the great gate pulled back; following upon which, a woman of about -forty years of age appeared at the doorway, and, after regarding the -_fiacre_ and the young man with the old one now leaning so heavily on -his arm, asked them what they desired. - -"To come into my own house," said the latter, looking at her, though -he could see at once that she had been born since he last stood upon -that spot. "I am the Marquis de Chevagny." - -She was not an uncomely-looking woman, neither did she appear hard nor -severe; still she answered, with a look of suspicion in her face: - -"There is no Marquis de Chevagny. The title exists no longer." - -"Yet," said the old man feebly, "I am he. This is my house. Woman, I -have but left the Bastille an hour ago. I have been a prisoner there -for forty-five years." - -She took a step backward, as though to regard him more particularly, -while her brow wrinkled a little and her colour came and went, as she -exclaimed, "My God, it is not possible!" - -"It is true," he said. "I pray you let me enter. I am very old and -feeble--older than even I should be by my years--and--and this _is_ my -house. Do not refuse me!" - -"Enter," the woman said, pulling wider open the door. "And -this--monsieur," glancing at Bertie, "who is he?" - -"I also have been a prisoner in the Bastille, though for only a short -space of time in comparison with his. I beseech you," he said, sinking -his voice to a whisper, "answer him very gently--especially when he -asks you of--of his family." - -"I understand," the woman said in return as she walked by their -side across the courtyard, in which one or two fowls were strutting -about--"I understand. Is he truly the marquis?" - -"He is, indeed." - -"God help him!" and as she spoke, they reached the door of the house. - -They entered a great hall with a tiled floor and, above it at the -back, a window of stained glass, some panes of which were broken--a -hall in which there was no furniture except a plain oaken bench, that -looked as though it had been used to chop wood upon; and on to this -the Marquis de Chevagny sank, exhausted already, while Bertie, -saddened at such a home-coming as this, stood by to cheer and comfort -him if possible. - -"This is not as I left it," the old man said as his glance roved round -the spacious but empty hall. "Has there been no one to guard it?" -Then, as though such trifles were unworthy of consideration, he asked -eagerly, while a strange light shone from his eyes: "I had a wife, a -child, when they took me from here. Are they--they--still alive?" - -"Is it possible monsieur does not know?" - -"Know! What should I know? Woman, I tell you I have been dead to the -world for forty-five years--buried alive in a place to which no news -ever comes. Where," he continued, "where are my wife and child?" - -"Alas! monsieur," she said, seeming while she spoke as though -endeavouring to avoid answering him, "I have heard of you from my -father; he was _garde chasse_ at the Château de Chevagny many years -ago." - -"Lenoir! Was he your father?" - -"Yes, monsieur, but he has been dead these twenty years; and then----" - -"My wife and child!" he interrupted--"my wife and child! Are they -dead, too?" - -"Alas! monsieur, I never saw Madame la Marquise. She--she--died the -year I was born." - -De Chevagny straightened himself upon the bench--as he did so there -came to Bertie's recollection how his own father had so straightened -himself as he died in his arms a few years before, and he wondered why -he recalled that incident at this moment--then the marquis said: - -"The year you were born? How old are you?" - -"Forty-one, monsieur." - -"Forty-one!" he whispered, "forty-one! So! she lived four years. -Four years. And I--I--have been hoping, praying--O God! how I have -prayed!--to see her again--to see her again, while for forty-one years -she has been lying in her grave--in her grave!" - -He paused awhile, perhaps because he heard the sobs of Bertie and the -woman mingling with his own; then he said: - -"And the little child--my dear, dear little babe! Is--is she dead, -too?" - -"_Non_, monsieur--at least I think not. She----" - -"Thank God!" - -"She married, very young, the Vicomte de Brunet," the woman answered -through her tears, "and went with him to Guadeloupe; and sometimes, at -intervals, she writes to her friends in Paris, and they send me news -of her. Also, she has once written to me." - -"And she is well? Has she children of her own, perhaps?" - -"No, monsieur. Her marriage has not been so blessed by the _bon -Dieu!_" - -He sat thinking awhile, meditating deeply ere he spoke again; then he -said: - -"But this house and the château--they were good properties; we have -drawn large sums from them for generations. Who takes the rents, the -produce, now--to whom do they belong?" - -"To the state, I have heard, monsieur; to the King; though, it is -said, in trust only. Yet, I know not. I cannot say. But I suppose so. -Twice annually a monsieur comes from the minister of the King to visit -us, and twice, also, I hear, one visits the château. If all has been -saved for you, monsieur, during your long absence, you should be very -rich." - -"Rich," he repeated--"rich! very rich! Yes, yes, very rich." Then, -turning on the woman suddenly, almost fiercely for him, he asked: - -"Where--where, do you know--did my wife die? Where did my little child -live until she married? If the state, the King, took possession of my -property, they would not let them stay here nor at the château." - -"Madame la Marquise went back to stay with her father after monsieur -had gone away. Mademoiselle de Chevagny lived with him also until she -married." Then, observing that the old man looked even more feeble and -drawn than she had at first noticed, she said: "But, monsieur, do not -stay here in this cold hall. Come into the saloon, I beg of you. There -is no fire, but I can soon make one. Come, monsieur, come." - -Slowly leaning on Bertie's arm, he rose at her behest--and now the -latter perceived that he weighed more heavily on him than before--and, -all together, they went into a fair-sized _salon_, or morning-room, to -the left of the corridor; while the woman, preceding them, made haste -to open the window shutters and to let a flood of light from the -wintry sun pour into the room. - -It seemed to have been left much as it must have been in those -long-past years, when so dreadful a doom had fallen upon that unhappy -family--perhaps had scarcely undergone any alteration since those -days. Upon the walls there hung several pictures: one, of a man in -half armour, bearing a strong resemblance to him who now tottered on -Bertie's arm; another, of an elderly woman, of a long anterior date; a -third, of a young man in all the bravery of the rich apparel of Louis -XIV's date, a young man with bright blue eyes and a joyous smile--De -Chevagny himself. Also, there were many chairs, none very comfortable, -since, fifty years before this time, comfortable chairs were almost -unknown articles; a table or so and a tabouret; also a woman's -worktable in a corner by the fireplace with, above it, a painting of a -fair young girl with a soft, gentle expression, done in what was, at -the period in which it was painted, quite a new style--the style of -Antoine Watteau--and much embellished with a rural landscape behind -the portrait. - -With a gasp, a cry of recognition, De Chevagny regarded this portrait -in the light of the thin December sun, and then, leaning now so -heavily on Bertie's arm as to be almost entirely held up and supported -by him, he exclaimed: - -"See! see! She has come back to me; we have met again! Again, Jeanne, -my love, my wife, my dear! O Jeanne, Jeanne, we shall be so happy -now!" - -The woman and Bertie regarded each other significantly, though neither -could speak from emotion, while De Chevagny addressed the latter, -saying: - -"See! there is the table where nightly she sits and works, making -little things for the child that is to come--the babe that shall make -us so happy. Here," and he put his finger on a gilt nail by the -chimney-piece, "where she hangs her workbasket at night; here," and he -pointed to a low stool, "where I sit by her side and tell her all I -have done at the court." - -He broke off, and appeared to be listening. - -"Hark!" he said, "hark! It is striking eleven--we are going to -bed--the great _cloche_ is ringing; there is a noise in the courtyard. -God!" he screamed, "it is full of torches; the exempts are there; they -have come to seize me--to drag me to the Bastille--to part us! Hide! -oh, hide me!" - -"Courage, courage, dear friend," said Bertie, soothingly, as he held -him in his arms, and noticed once again how heavy and inert his poor -form was--"courage, courage! They will never come for you again. You -are free forever now. Dispel these illusions. Be brave." - -"Free," he repeated, "free!" and his wandering blue eyes sought -Bertie's once more, while in them there was again that wistful look -which so wrung his heart. "Free! yes, I am free!" and as he spoke he -released himself from Elphinston's grasp and flung himself upon his -knees before his wife's picture. - -"My darling," he murmured, gazing up at it, "_ma mignonne_, we shall -never part more. I am free! free! free! And so happy! oh, so happy!" -and he clasped his hands together and bent over the low chair before -the picture. And once again he looked up and murmured, "So--so happy -now!" - -When at last they ventured to speak to him, and, getting no answer, to -raise his head, they saw upon his face so sweet and placid a smile -that, remembering all, Bertie would not have wished to call him back -to the world in which he had suffered so much. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -"AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." - - -It was the night of Monday, the 10th of December, 1748, and once again -all Paris lay under the snow--snow that hung in great masses over the -eaves of the houses, threatening, when the next thaw should come, to -fall and envelop the passers-by; that was caked and hardened on the -_chaussées_ of all the streets by the recent hard frost; that, out on -the quays, was of the consistency of iron almost from the same cause; -while, so severe had that frost been, that on the river the snow had -been frozen into huge solid blocks, which swirled round and round in -vast masses as, under the stars, they floated slowly down towards the -open country and the sea. - -There were but few abroad on this cold night, certainly few -pedestrians; yet, as the clocks from Nôtre Dame and all the other -churches round struck eleven, there was one who, swiftly making his -way along the Quai des Théatins, directly opposite the Louvre, seemed -neither to heed the cold nor the snow beneath his feet. Wrapped in a -long cloak, or roquelaure, held up sufficiently, however, not to -impede his limbs in their stride, and with his three-cornered hat -pressed down closely over his head, this man, without turning round to -regard even the few casual passers-by, went onward until, as he neared -the edge of the quay, on which stood a large, imposing hotel, from the -windows of which issued a blaze of lights, he suddenly stopped in -amazement; for outside this great mansion there was what he least -would have expected to see--a large concourse of people assembled -together, indiscriminately mixed with whom were exempts, other -officers of police, and a considerable body of soldiers, as well as -several sergeants of the grenadiers clad in their cuirasses and -skullcaps. Also he saw a number of musketeers (or horse guards) -standing by their horses ready to mount them, as well as several of -the _guets_, or street watchmen, near them; while, to make this -concourse more astonishing to those who did not know what might be its -object, in the road were half a dozen scaling ladders, with, by them, -several of the _guets_, with axes and hammers in their hands. - -But that which was more astonishing for him to behold than aught else -was that between the ordinary people or onlookers in the streets and -the officials, civil and military, who stood in front of the mansion, -was stretched as a barrier a thick, handsome, crimson silk cord -fringed with gold. This cord, attached to gilt poles or staves about -four feet high, served with the hotel itself to form an exact square, -the house making the fourth side; and inside that square itself it was -that the musketeers, sergeants of the grenadiers, and superior -officers of the police were standing, as well as several other -officers of high rank, as testified by their gorgeous uniforms and -trappings. - -"It is the Prince's house," Bertie whispered to himself, for he was -the man who had been making his way swiftly along the Quai des -Théatins but a few moments ago--"the Prince's house! What can be -intended towards him? He should be safe here in Paris, if anywhere. -And Kate is within--a lady of his suite--ill, and, my mother said, -sick almost to death. Heaven! I may not be able to see her even now, -after so long! What a fate is mine! On the first night that I am able -to approach her after so long and cruel a separation, to find the way -barred thus!" - -He was about to ask a man in the crowd which he had now joined what -the strange scene meant, when a murmur arose amongst those collected -there, and at the same moment the order was given to the musketeers to -mount their horses and the sergeants of grenadiers to form their men -into double line. And at that instant the tramp of other animals' -hoofs was heard and the roll of wheels. Then, a moment later, a -handsome and much-gilded coach drawn by four horses came swiftly along -the quay until it reached the crowd, and the astonished coachman, -seeing the gilt-embroidered crimson cord with the military behind it, -pulled his animals up sharply. - -From the interior of the coach a voice, clear, crisp, and distinct, -was heard exclaiming in French: - -"What is the meaning of this assembly? Why am I prevented from -entering my house?" and directly afterwards a gloved hand was put out -from the open window, while a tall young man of about thirty years of -age stepped from the coach. - -He was clad, perhaps because of the wintry weather, in a thick -rose-coloured velvet suit embroidered with silver and lined with -peach-coloured satin and silver tissue, and his waistcoat was a rich -gold brocade with a spangled fringe set on in scallops; his silk -stockings were also peach-coloured; in his lace cravat there sparkled -a magnificent diamond solitaire. Over his shoulders he wore the -insignia of the Garter of England and the order of St. Andrew, and on -his breast there hung a gold medal by a blue satin ribbon, on which, -if it could have been inspected, would have been seen the words, -"Carolus, Walliæ Princeps, Amor et Spes Britanniæ." As to his -appearance, his face was oval and of a good complexion, though now he -seemed somewhat pallid in the torchlight, and his eyes, which were -very prominent and full, were blue. - -"God bless your Royal Highness!" cried Bertie loudly, in which he was -imitated by many, while all the officers and soldiers saluted him, and -the richly clad civilians in the inclosure uncovered their hats. - -The Prince glanced at the spot where Elphinston's voice came from, and -gave a look of recognition at his tall, stalwart form; then, turning -to two of the gentlemen who surrounded him, he said, while he threw -over his shoulders a small fleecy cape of ermine he had brought in his -hand from the carriage: "Monseigneur le Duc de Biron, and you, -Monsieur de Vaudreville, you are friends of mine--friends ever, as I -have thought--explain to me, therefore, I beg you, why my way is -barred to my abode, and why I see you amongst those who so bar it? -And, Monsieur le Duc and gentlemen, the night is more than cold; be -covered, I beseech you," and he put on his own hat, in the lace of -which there sparkled another superb diamond as an aigrette, while the -white cockade was visible. - -But the others remained uncovered, while the Duc de Biron said: - -"May it please you, monseigneur----" - -"Monseigneur!" interrupted Charles Edward. "I am the Prince of Wales! -Either that, or nothing! Now, if you please, the reason of this -_guet-apens_. Do I owe it to my cousin Louis?" - -The duke shrugged his shoulders, as though deprecating the Prince's -wrath, then he said: - -"His Majesty regrets that your Highness would not conform to his -desire that you should leave France, according to the terms of the -recent peace made at Aix-la-Chapelle, as conveyed to you by the Duc de -Gesvres----" - -"Neither my royal father nor I had part in that peace," again -interrupted the Prince. - -"Therefore," went on the Duc de Biron, "his Majesty has thought it -well that you shall be conducted, with all respect and reverence, to -the frontier. Yet some forms must be observed, which I pray your -Highness to pardon." Then, turning to Monsieur de Vaudreville, he -said: - -"Your duty." - -"Monseigneur," said De Vaudreville, "I arrest you in the name of the -King, my master." - -"Then," exclaimed Bertie, as with a bound he rushed under the crimson -cord, "arrest me also! This is the Prince of Wales, my master; we -fought near to one another in the Scotch campaign; where he goes I go -too!" - -"Captain Elphinston," said Charles Edward, who had recognised him when -first he spoke, "I am, indeed, rejoiced to see you by my side again. -There could be no truer friend. Yet it must not be. Your services have -already been too many; I can never requite them. Henceforth live for -yourself and those who love you." And turning to the duke and De -Vaudreville, who with the soldiers and the crowd had been -astounded--indeed, touched--with this proof of devotion to the -unfortunate Prince, he said: "I shall not dispute his Majesty's -orders. Yet, I think the manner is a little too violent." - -"I hope not, monseigneur," De Biron said. "I should be _au desespoir_ -if such were the case. But since there are other formalities to be -gone through and your Highness does not contest his Majesty's decree, -will you please to enter your house, and to permit of our accompanying -you?" - -"As you please," replied the Prince. "But," he said, pointing to -Bertie, "here is a gallant gentleman of the family of my Lord -Balmerino, who was done to death on Tower Hill in my cause. He is a -devoted adherent of our house, though I have lost sight of him for -some time. Gentlemen, I am alone, save for my grooms. I beg of you to -allow him to enter also." - -The Duc de Biron and De Vaudreville bowed at his words, and bowed -again to Elphinston, after which the order was given for the soldiers -to stand out of the way while his Highness entered the house. Then, -with another bow, the duke begged the Prince to precede them, -motioning also to Bertie to accompany them. - -"I am glad to see you, Captain Elphinston," Charles Edward said as -they approached the hall. "I have thought often of you and of your -poor friend, and mine, Mr. Sholto. And--you will find in my house one -to whom your coming may be a new life. You understand?" - -"I understand, your Royal Highness. I should have been here long -before, but that I have been a prisoner in the Bastille." - -"In the Bastille! You! So that is where you have been hidden from all -human knowledge. But stay--we cannot talk now. What do they intend to -me? Do you know? I do not, though I have long known that my presence -in Paris is unwelcome." - -Bertie shook his head mournfully, and then they entered the hall of -the mansion which the Prince had hired from a French nobleman. A huge -fire burned in the grate at one end of it, and to this Charles Edward -advanced, and, holding out his hands to the blaze, warmed them. - -"Your Highness," said the Duc de Biron, who by no means appeared to -relish the task before him, "again I beg you to believe that in what -we have now to do no disrespect is intended. Yet, it must be done. I -have to ask you for your sword and any other weapons you may have -about you." - -The Prince started and coloured at these words, then, with a calmness -which he never lost until the end of his life--when despair and, alas! -drink had done their worst with him--he said: - -"I shall never deliver my sword to you, nor any man. But, since I am -helpless---- No, Captain Elphinston," seeing a movement on the -latter's part, "do not interfere, I beg you. Since I am helpless, you -may take them, and what else I have of arms." - -At a sign from the duke, De Vaudreville undid the sash of his dress -sword--he had been that night to a gala performance at the opera in -the Palais Royal--and took the weapon from him, and then, seeing a -melancholy smile upon his face, the other, with many profusions of -apology and regret, gently felt in his pockets and removed from them -two small ivory-handled and silver-inlaid pistols and a little knife -with two blades. - -"Do not be surprised," the Prince said, "at seeing the pistols. Since -I was hunted like a wild beast in Scotland--ay, hunted even by -dogs--I, a king's son--I have carried them ever. And here in Paris -also my life has been sought." - -"I have to ask your Highness to give a promise that you will make no -attempt on your own life nor that of any other person," De Vaudreville -said. - -The Prince shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the pistols and knife -in the other's hands; then he said, "I promise. What more?" - -"Your Highness," said the duke, "will be conducted to Vincennes -to-night. De Chatelet has received orders to prepare a room for you. -To-morrow you will set out upon your journey. But, for the present, -again I ask your Highness to pardon me," and he faltered as he -continued, "it is necessary for the greater security that you should -be bound." - -"Bound!" the Prince exclaimed, and now he turned white as death. -"Bound! I! The Prince of Wales!" - -"Alas! sire," said the duke, "it is the King's orders. Yet, I pledge -you my word as a peer of France, such orders are issued solely out of -regard to your Highness's person, and to prevent you making any -attempt on that person." - -"I shall make no attempt," Charles Edward replied. "But I am unused to -such proceedings as these. And I do not even say whether they are -justifiable or not; the disgrace does not affect me, but your master -alone." - -While he was speaking, De Vaudreville continued to bind him, using -crimson cord of a similar nature to that which formed the barrier -outside, and at last both his legs and arms were securely tied, when -the unhappy Prince lost his calmness, and, looking down on De -Vaudreville with a glance that has been described as "menacing and -terrible," exclaimed: - -"Have you not enough now?" - -"Not yet," replied the other, "though it is nearly ended." - -It was, indeed, nearly ended, since the Prince's body was now so -swathed with the cords that it would have been impossible for more to -be placed round it or his limbs, and, looking at the duke with still -his sad smile upon his face, he said: - -"I hope, monsieur, no other Englishman will ever be treated thus. They -are not made for such a purpose;" after which he asked what was to be -done next. - -"To Vincennes next," replied De Biron, with a low bow. - -"My horses are fatigued," the Prince said; "they cannot travel so far -and back to-night." - -"Have no fear," the duke answered. "A coach has been secured." - -And now they prepared to lift the unhappy descendant of a family of -kings, the last descendant who ever made a bid or struck a blow for -all that his ancestors had lost--since his brother the cardinal, -Henry, Duke of York, was a mere shadow of a Stuart--and to carry him -to the hired coach that waited without. But Bertie, who had been a -furious witness of this insult to him whom, rightly or wrongly, he -deemed--in agreement with three fourths of his country people and -perhaps one half of the English--to be the rightful heir to the -English throne, could not part thus from him. As he saw him tied and -bound, there arose before him once more the memory of the bright young -chieftain with whom he had embarked at Port St. Lazare, with whom he -had landed in Lochaber, and before whom the old Marquis of -Tullibardine had unfurled at Glenfinnan his white, blue, and red silk -standard, with, on it, the proud and happy motto, "_Tandem -Triumphans_." - -Also before his eyes there rose the progress through Scotland, the -joyous welcome at Edinburgh, the victory at Prestonpans, the surrender -at Carlisle, the glorious march to and arrival at Derby, with the news -which succeeded that arrival, to the effect that the German King was -trembling for fear at St. James's, and all London mad with terror. And -then Culloden!--that bitter day, when, as Cumberland's butchers hacked -and shot the wounded and the dying, Charles urged on the living to -avenge their comrades, and was at last forced off the field against -his will, his face bespattered with the dirt thrown up by the cannon -balls that fell around him. - -And now to see him thus! - -"Oh, sir," he cried, flinging himself at the Prince's feet, "let me go -with you wherever the King of France may see fit to send you. Give me -but leave to see her I love, to tell her that once more I have -returned to her, and then let me follow you, as is my duty and desire, -wherever you go!" - -It was not only Charles Edward who was affected by this manly speech; -even De Biron, who understood English well, and De Vaudreville, who -did not, but evidently guessed accurately what he had said, were -touched by it. - -"No, Elphinston, no," the Prince replied. "As I said but now, the day -is past for services to be rendered to me or my cause. That cause is -lost; this is the last blow. When France joins hands with England, how -can a Stuart hope? Farewell, Captain Elphinston; she whom you love--I -know all!--will recover yet, ill as she is, I hope. I pray to God that -He may bless you both. Farewell! we shall never meet again--never -again! Yet, remember, I beseech you, when you hear my name mentioned, -that we fought side by side once--that we were comrades--and--and--so, -try to think well of me." - -They bore him away after this, scarce giving Bertie time to kiss his -hand, and from that night they never did meet again. To the Prince -there were still to be forty years of life accorded; what that life -became, with every hope shattered and every desire unaccomplished, the -world well knows. - -Between them the grenadiers and De Vaudreville carried him to the hired -coach--for owing to his silken fetters he was unable to walk--and put -him into it at the spot where it waited, behind the kitchens. And -Bertie, following like a faithful dog who perceives its master -departing, thus saw the last of him and received his last look. De -Vaudreville, he observed, sat by him; two captains of the musketeers -entered the coach and sat opposite to him; two other officers rode on -each side of the vehicle, with a hand upon the door; six grenadiers -with fixed bayonets mounted behind like footmen, and the rest of the -soldiers accompanied them on foot.[Note E] - -Thus the last but one of the Stuarts left Paris; thus the last -hospitality and favour of France were withdrawn from the -representative of the unhappy family whose cause France had so long -espoused. - -"And now," said Bertie to himself, as with a final courteous bow the -Duc de Biron entered his own gorgeous carriage and departed to give an -account of the proceedings to Louis--"and now for her whom I have -pined for so long! God grant that the report of her ill-health may be -exaggerated! If I lose her, I have nothing more to live for!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -"LOVE STRONG AS DEATH!" - - -Neither the Duc de Biron nor De Vaudreville had thought it necessary -to place any of their soldiery or police within the mansion--perhaps -because the person they required was himself outside it--and, -consequently, there was nothing to prevent Bertie from making his way -from the hall to the upper regions where he naturally supposed Kate -would be--nothing, that is to say, beyond a few terrified-looking -menservants, who, on perceiving him mount the stairs, retreated before -him, probably imagining that he had been left in possession of the -place by those who had taken away their master. They were quickly, -however, undeceived by the stranger calling to them to ask who was now -in charge of the establishment, and to whom he should address himself -with a view to finding Lady Fordingbridge. - -"Lady Fordingbridge," one of the footmen replied, answering him in -French, as he had spoken, though his accent showed plainly enough that -he was a Scotchman--"Lady Fordingbridge! She sees no one; she is very -ill. She is, indeed----" - -"What!" interrupted Bertie, in so sad a voice that even the man -refrained from concluding his speech, which he had intended to do with -the words, "dying, they say." - -But here a lady who had been descending the stairs from above, and now -reached the corridor on the first floor at the same time that -Elphinston did, came forward and said, as she motioned the servants -back: - -"It is indeed Captain Elphinston! Oh, why not have come sooner, and -why, of all nights, be so unhappy as to select this one? Captain -Elphinston, your disappearance has very nearly brought Lady -Fordingbridge to her grave--that, and the tragic death of her -husband." - -"She knows that, then?" he asked, as he recognised the lady who spoke -to him, she being the wife of Lord Ogilvie, whose title at that time -was forfeited in England, though afterward restored--"she knows that, -then?" - -"Yes, she knows it," Lady Ogilvie replied. - -"Does she also know the reason of it--of why he was led forth to -execution on the Place de Grève?" Bertie next demanded. He himself -knew it now; his mother, whom he found still alive and well, though -terribly prostrated by the two years and more of anxiety which she had -endured since his disappearance, having told him all. - -"No," her ladyship replied, "that she does not know. We have never -told her. Rather we have let her suppose that he was about to be -executed for some political crime. We could not tell her how base he -was. Yet," she went on, "it seems that you and he met in prison--that -you forgave him. Did you forgive him _that?_" - -"Nay," replied Bertie, "I knew not what he had done, and only saw that -his mind was gone. And, not knowing, I forgave. Now, Lady Ogilvie, I -beseech you let me go to her!" - -"First," she replied, "I must warn her that you are here. She is very -ill; she cannot bear a shock." - -"Is she as ill as that?" - -"She is very weak and feeble. Perhaps now you have appeared again, -come back almost from the very jaws of death, she may recover. Let us -pray she will!" - -Then she left him alone, saying she would soon return. - -Agonizing as had been the long hours, weeks, months that he had spent -alone in the chapel-room of the Bastille, and nearly as much alone in -the _calotte_ with De Chevagny, when, both heartbroken, they had -sometimes scarcely exchanged a word for days, none had seemed more -bitter, more unendurable, than the few minutes during which Lady -Ogilvie was absent. For everything that he had gathered as to the -state of Kate's health, since he had emerged into the world once more, -pointed only too plainly to the fact that he had but found her again -to again lose her, and to lose her this time beyond all hopes of -recovery. - -"Come," said Lady Ogilvie, returning to him--"come; she is now -expecting you. I have prepared her. Come." - -He followed her up the great stairs to the second floor, and there his -companion opened the door and ushered him into a large, well-warmed -and lighted room, and then left them. - -Seated before the great fire, yet with her face turned eagerly towards -the door as though watching for him, he saw her once again--saw the -woman he had loved so long, the woman whom Fate had parted him from. -She was thin, now, almost to attenuation--she, whose supple, graceful -figure had once been one of her greatest charms--so thin that she -looked more like a child that was unwell than a grown woman, and on -her face there were no roses now. - -"Kate," he exclaimed, advancing swiftly to her as she held out her -thin worn arms to him, and falling on his knee beside her--"Kate, my -darling, I have come back at last; am free once more! Kate, nothing -can part us now." - -For answer she let her head droop to his shoulder and lie there. It -seemed to her that at last perfect peace had come, that all the black -and dreadful past was gone and done with for ever; then she whispered: -"Nothing part us! Oh, my dear, my love, there is one parting more only -to be made; then--then--we shall meet to never part again. Bertie, you -have come in time, yet too late--too late for this world." - -"No, no," he said, "it shall not be! Kate, do not leave me now. Think, -think, my darling, of how long we have waited, of all that has -separated us so long, and that now there is no longer any barrier -between us. Think of the dreary months in prison, months that I -counted day by day, hoping, praying ever to get free and come back to -you; think how brave you have been, always waiting for me. O Kate, my -sweet, do not go and leave me now alone!" and as he spoke he wept, and -buried his head upon her lap. - -"Nay," she said, stroking his head and noticing how grey and grizzled -it was now, though he was still so young a man--"nay, do not weep, -Bertie. You are too strong to shed tears, too strong and brave. It was -your strength and manhood I loved so much, was so proud of. Do not -weep now; for it is best, Bertie, best so." - -"Best!" he answered almost fiercely, and raising his head as he did -so, while she with one wan hand put back softly from his forehead the -brown locks flecked with grey. "Best! How can it be best; how, how? O -Kate, think, think of all our hopes formed so long ago, the hopes of -happy years to come to be passed together!--the hopes that we should -grow old together, and then, together at the end, share one calm and -peaceful grave. My darling, those years are still before us; I cannot -lose you now. Stay, stay with me! Remember all our plans formed in the -days of the Rue Trousse Vache, the days when we wandered forth hand in -hand together. Oh, stay with me, my darling, stay!" - -It appeared as if the rose-blush came back into her cheeks at his -whispered prayer, as if a new life was dawning for her again. Then she -murmured: - -"Oh, my dear, it seems as though I must not leave you now. Bertie, I -will stay with you, if I may--if God will let me!" - - - - -APPENDIX. - - -NOTE A. _The Reward offered by Charles Edward_. - -"Whereas we have seen a certain scandalous and malicious paper, -published in the stile and form of a proclamation, bearing date the -1st instant, wherein, under pretence of bringing us to justice, like -our royal ancestor King Charles I of blessed memory, there is a reward -of thirty thousand pounds sterling, promised to those who shall -deliver us into the hands of our enemies, we could not but be moved -with a just indignation at so insolent an attempt. And though from our -nature and principles we abhor and detest a practice so unusual among -Christian princes, we cannot but out of a just regard to the dignity -of our person, promise the like reward of thirty thousand pounds -sterling, to him or those who shall seize and secure, till our further -orders, the person of the Elector of Hanover, whether landed, or -attempting to land, in any part of his Majesty's dominions. Should any -fatal accident happen from hence, let the blame lie entirely at the -door of those who first set the infamous example. CHARLES, P. R. - -"Given in our camp at Kinlocheill, August the 22nd, 1745. - -"By His Highness's command. Jo MURRAY." - -_Headed_.--Charles, Prince of Wales, etc., Regent of the Kingdom of -Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, and the dominions thereunto -belonging. - - - -NOTE B. _Jesuit Priests in England_. - -A long proclamation was issued, headed "George R.," and dated December -6, 1745, which, after threatening all kinds of penalties against those -who knew of Jesuit priests being in England, or those who harboured -them, continued: - -"We, for the better discovering and apprehending of such Jesuit and -Popish priests, do by this our royal proclamation, by and with the -advice of our Privy Council, strictly charge and command all our -judges, justices of the peace, magistrates, officers, and other our -loyal subjects, that they do use their utmost care and endeavour to -discover, apprehend, and bring to trial, all Jesuit and Popish -priests, except such Popish priests, not being our natural born -subjects, as, by the law of this our realm, are permitted to attend -foreign ministers." A reward of one hundred pounds for every such -priest was offered. - - - -NOTE C. _The Duke of Cumberland's Vengeance after Culloden_. - -Extract from a letter written by an officer in the King's army: - -"The moor was covered with blood, and our men, what with killing the -enemy, dabbling their feet in the blood, and splashing it about one -another, looked like so many butchers." - -A gentleman named George Charles, who wrote an accurate history of the -rebellion, also says: "Vast numbers of the common people's houses or -huts were likewise laid in ashes; all the cattle, sheep, and goats -were carried off; and several poor people, especially women and -children, were found dead on the hills, supposed to be starved. Even -places of worship were not exempt from the ravages of the unprincipled -soldiery; several mass-houses about Strathbogie were pulled down by -them; some non-jurant Episcopal meetinghouses were likewise burnt and -destroyed, and they were generally shut up all over the kingdom. The -commander-in-chief was at this time amusing himself and his staff with -foot and horse races." - - - -NOTE D. _The Bastille_. - -In presenting the Bastille to the readers of these pages exactly as it -was according to every authority on the subject--although in -considerable opposition to the usually accepted and melodramatic and -transpontine ideas on the fortress--I do not feel that I have robbed -Romance of any of her charms. The true Bastille offers the fictionist -quite as much opportunity for his powers as the fusty, tawdry thing -which, under its name, has heretofore done duty in its place. - -The Bastille was never the place of indescribable horrors which -fictionists and dramatists have contrived--"out of their own heads," -as the children say--to represent it; indeed, I may truthfully assert -that I have never read a description yet of the place in fiction, nor -seen a representation of the place in drama, which could by any -possibility have approached very near accuracy. And this is the more -extraordinary, because there are something like forty authorities who -may be referred to on the subject, including among them such men as -the Duc de Richelieu and Voltaire, both of whom had in their time been -prisoners in it. - -In truth, the Bastille was more a house of detention than anything -else, and in many cases was regarded as a shelter or harbour of refuge -from outside storms. Instances are frequent of men petitioning to be -sent there to escape their enemies, and of others refusing to come out -and be forced to meet their enemies. Moreover, if a young man of -fashion contracted debts or low amours, or gambled, or was too -intimate with undesirable women--as was the case with the Duc -d'Estrées, the Duc de Mortemart, the Comte d'Harcourt, and -others--nothing was more common than for his father to pack him off to -the Bastille, accompanied by his tutor and his valet. Also, the -Bastille was often regarded by the Parisians as a suitable object for -poking fun at. Voltaire, after having been incarcerated there for -objecting to being thrashed by the Chevalier de Rohan for being a -poet, told Louis XV, when he promised to provide for him, that "he -trusted his Majesty's provision would not again include board and -lodging." Another poet, referring to the moat round the fortress, -delivered himself of the lines: - - - Que vois-je dans ce marécage - Digne de curiosité, - Se tenir sur sa gravité - En citadel de village? - A quoi sert ce vieux mur dans l'eau? - Est-ce un aqueduc, un caveau? - Est-ce un reservoir de grenouilles? - - -And Langlet du Frosnoy (an abbé and a most prolific writer, who passed -half his life in various prisons, and died at eighty by tumbling into -the fire while reading a book) used to take his papers, his snuff, and -his nightgown off to the Bastille when rearrested, and calmly go on -with his work there on being once more locked up. As regards the -surrender of the Bastille (for, as Marmontel truthfully says, it was -only threatened with siege and never really besieged) in 1789, and the -release of the "unhappy prisoners," it may be mentioned that there -were but seven of them there, and that one was an imbecile Englishman -named Whyte, whose friends had had him shut up to keep him out of -harm's way. Four of the others were common forgers awaiting trial; -the sixth was the Comte de Solages, detained at the request of his -family and on their paying his expenses; and the seventh was -Tavernier, a man who had conspired against the late King. No record of -torture being practised in the Bastille--after the middle ages--can be -found; while, as for food, the Kings allowed so fair a sum to each -prisoner--generally one hundred sols, or five francs, a day--that -often the latter petitioned that, instead of so many meals, they might -be allowed some of the money for other things. In the case of a prince -of the blood, fifty livres a day were allowed; for the Cardinal de -Rohan one hundred and twenty were granted. Discipline had, however, to -be maintained, and where the "guests" were too obstreperous they were -sometimes confined alone in dark, solitary cells, instead of being in -rooms with others for companions. Latude, who has been regarded as a -martyr, was frequently punished for swearing, roaring so that people -outside could hear him, and "playing the devil," to use the words of -the officials; yet he was allowed tobacco, seeds for the birds he was -permitted to keep, new clothes when he asked for them, fur gloves to -keep his hands warm, and almost whatever food he desired. Allègre, who -escaped from the Bastille with him and was retaken, was also a -troublesome man; he broke all the windows, china, and pottery in his -room daily, and tore up his mattresses and shirts, "which cost the -King twenty francs each," and his pocket-handkerchiefs. He died mad at -last at Charenton, did not know Latude, who went to see him, and told -everyone that he was God. - -The instrument of torture found in the Bastille on its fall turned -out, when regarded by intelligent people, to be a small printing press -left behind by one François Lenormand, who had been permitted to have -it in his room for occupation; also a billiard table was discovered -which was provided, the year before the Bastille surrendered, for the -amusement of the "prisoners"! The "awful cells" which have furnished -so much matter for powerful writing, were "the ice houses" in which -wine, meat, and fish were stored. In truth, the "King's furnished -apartments" seem to have been far from unpleasant abode to many, as -the Abbé de Mehégan acknowledged when his mother implored the King to -keep him there as long as possible, because he was so dissolute and -extravagant and such a terror to all the girls in his parish. - -Of course, in the days of Louis XIV and Louis XV some prisoners were -detained for long periods, and one there was who was detained the same -length of time--forty-four years--as I have accorded to De Chevagny. -Falmy's case was also possible in Louis XV's reign. But in Louis XVI's -first year the Bastille was cleared of all but Tavernier and some -others whose trial was close at hand, and even the revolutionists -acknowledged that no "court" victim had been incarcerated during that -unhappy King's reign. The last man to enter the Bastille was one -Reveillon, a furniture dealer, and he did so at his own request, and -with a demand for the rights of "sanctuary," as his fellow-workmen -were destroying his house in the Faubourg St. Antoine because he had -used defamatory language against _them!_ and he was afraid for his -life. - -Terrible, therefore, as the Bastille was, as a place in which one -might be detained for an indefinite period, it was not what it has -hitherto been represented; yet, as I have said, it formed a -sufficiently gloomy abode in which to secrete such characters as -Bertie Elphinston and Fordingbridge when such secretion was rendered -necessary in the interests of my narrative. - -The descriptions of the Bastille have been gathered by me from the -accounts of the spy, Constantin de Renneville, who was a prisoner for -eleven years, and who, when released, went to London, and was there -assassinated by an unknown hand; of the adventurer, Jean Louis Carra, -who, after writing odes of praise upon the fall of the Bastille, -perished at the hands of the republicans; of the Duc de Richelieu, -who, when a very old man of ninety, could not resist visiting the -place where he had been three times confined when a very young one; -and of Voltaire, who had had considerable experience of its -hospitality, having been sent there twice; and of many other authors -of the past and present. - - - -NOTE E. _Arrest of Charles Edward_. - -The arrest of Charles Edward took place under precisely similar -circumstances to those which I have described, with one exception, -namely, that it was carried out on his quitting the opera house in the -Palais Royal instead of outside his own house on the Quai des -Théatins, and it was from behind the _kitchen_ of the Palais Royal -that he was taken away in a hired cab. I have transposed the arrest to -the latter spot to suit the requirements of the story. The Duc de -Biron took part in it, against his will, in the capacity of -colonel-in-chief of the guards. He was the least celebrated of the -many Ducs de Biron, of whom a French writer said "all were celebrated -and some notorious." - - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: "_Tandem triumphans_" was the motto emblazoned on Charles -Edward's banner during the march into England. "_Nunquam triumphans_" -was afterwards a password between Jacobites.] - -[Footnote 2: The remarkable name of one of the royal yachts of George -II.] - -[Footnote 3: Inaugurated 1724.] - -[Footnote 4: At this period most of the houses in Kensington-square -had large gardens at the back. Those on the west side, where I -Fordingbridge's is supposed to be situated, covered what known as -Scarsdale-place.] - -[Footnote 5: A tipstaff, or executor of warrants for the Government.] - -[Footnote 6: Governor of the Bastille from 1718 to 1749, and father of -the last governor of that prison, Le Marquis Bernard Réné Jourdan de -Launey, who was brutally murdered by the populace on the fall of the -Bastille in 1789.] - -[Footnote 7: Latude's successful escape was made some years after the -date of this narrative--viz., in 1750.] - -[Footnote 8: As happened the next year, by the Treaty of -Aix-la-Chapelle.] - -[Footnote 9: The ballets in which the French kings, and Louis XIV in -particular, frequently danced, were more in the style of a minuet than -anything else. There is a picture in the Luxembourg of one being -performed, with Louis taking part in it and representing _Le -Printemps_.] - -[Footnote 10: A derisive name sometimes applied to the Bastille, -especially by the lower classes in Paris.] - - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Denounced, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DENOUNCED *** - -***** This file should be named 52733-8.txt or 52733-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/7/3/52733/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52733-8.zip b/old/52733-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3d349b2..0000000 --- a/old/52733-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52733-h.zip b/old/52733-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d384c1b..0000000 --- a/old/52733-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52733-h/52733-h.htm b/old/52733-h/52733-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f670293..0000000 --- a/old/52733-h/52733-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11791 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>Denounced: A Romance</title> -<meta name="Author" content="John Bloundelle-Burton"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="D. Appleton and Company"> -<meta name="Date" content="1896"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:10%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - - - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Denounced, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Denounced - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: August 6, 2016 [EBook #52733] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DENOUNCED *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -http://www.archive.org/details/denouncedromance00blouiala<br> -(University of California Libraries)</p> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:50%"> -<h4>Appleton's<br> -Town and Country<br> -Library<br> -<br> -No. 200</h4> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>DENOUNCED</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p> </p> -<div style="margin-left:15%;margin-right:15%"> -<h5>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</h5> - -<h4>IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY.</h4> -<h5><span class="sc">A Romance</span>. 12mo. Paper, 50 -cents; cloth, $1.00.</h5> - -<p class="normal">"We do not hesitate to declare that Mr. Bloundelle-Burton's -new romance will be very hard to beat in its own particular line. In his -previous works Mr. Burton gave evidence which entitled him to a very prominent -place among the writers of his class; and now, at another bound, he has leaped -into the foremost rank. If he only keeps up to the level of 'In the Day of -Adversity,' he must continue to rank as one of the most interesting and popular -writers of the day. . . . Mr. Burton's creative skill is of the kind which must -fascinate those who revel in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and -Stanley Weyman. Even the author of 'A Gentleman of France' has not surpassed the -writer of 'In the Day of Adversity' in the moving interest of his tale."--<i>St. -James's Gazette</i>.</p> -<br> -<h5><span class="sc">New York: D. Appleton & Co.</span>, 72 Fifth Avenue.</h5> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>DENOUNCED</h3> -<br> -<h4><i>A ROMANCE</i></h4> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON</h4> - -<h5>AUTHOR OF<br> -IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY, THE HISPANIOLA PLATE, ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p style="text-align:center">"The adder lies i' the corbie's nest."</p> -<p style="text-indent:60%"><span class="sc">Jacobite Ballad</span></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>NEW YORK<br> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br> -1896</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1896, -BY <span style="font-size:larger">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.</span></h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CONTENTS.</h4> - -<p><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I</a>. <span class="sc">A home coming</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II</a>. <span class="sc">A subject of King -George</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III</a>. <span class="sc">A woman's letter</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV</a>. <span class="sc">The subjects of -King James</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V</a>. <span class="sc">My lord goes out of -town</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI</a>. <span class="sc">Kate makes an -appointment</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII</a>. <span class="sc">"The bird that -danced the rigadoon"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII</a>. <span class="sc">"Fortune! An -unrelenting foe to love"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX</a>. <span class="sc">Denounced</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X</a>. <span class="sc">How my lord -returned home</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI</a>. <span class="sc">Archibald's escape</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII</a>. <span class="sc">Hey! for France</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII</a>. <span class="sc">Man and wife</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV</a>. <span class="sc">Flight</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV</a>. <span class="sc">United</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI</a>. <span class="sc">"Treason has done -his worst"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII</a>. <span class="sc">Gasconism</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII</a>. <span class="sc">"What face that -haunts me?"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX</a>. <span class="sc">"Which way I fly -is hell--myself am hell!"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX</a>. <span class="sc">Avenged</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI</a>. <span class="sc">The Bastille</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII</a>. <span class="sc">Despair!</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII</a>. <span class="sc">At last</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV</a>. <span class="sc">Broken hearts</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV</a>. <span class="sc">"His hours to -their last minute mounted"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI</a>. <span class="sc">Kate learns she -is free</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII</a>. <span class="sc">Afar off still</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII</a>. <span class="sc">"A kind of -change came in my fate"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX</a>. <span class="sc">Free</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX</a>. <span class="sc">The marquis goes -home</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI</a>. <span class="sc">"An outstayed -welcome"</span><br> -<a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII</a>. <span class="sc">"Love strong as -death!"</span><br> -<br> -<a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33"><span class="sc">Appendix</span></a><p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>DENOUNCED.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> - -<h5>A HOME COMING.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was a wild and stormy sea through which the bluff-bowed Galliot -laboured, as, tossed first from one wave to another, she, with -the best part of her gear stowed away and no sail on her but a -close-reefed main-topsail and a spanker, endeavoured to make her way -towards the Suffolk coast. On the poop, the captain--a young man of -not more than thirty--hurled orders and oaths indiscriminately at his -crew, every man of which was a good deal older than himself, while the -crew themselves worked hard at hauling up the brails, going out on the -gaff to pass the gaskets, and stowing the mainsail-yard. But still she -laboured and rolled and yawed, her forefoot pointing at one moment -almost to the Dutch coast and at another to the English--she had left -Calais thirty hours before, intending to fetch Dover, and had been -blown thus far out of her course--and it seemed as though she would -never get any nearer to the land she wished to reach. And, to make -matters worse, lying some distance off on her starboard beam--though -too far to be distinguished through the haze in the air and the spume -of the waves--was a large vessel about which those on board could not -decide as to whether she was one of King George's sloops or--a -privateer. The young captain trusted it was the first, since he had no -quarrel with either his Majesty or his navy, and had no men who could -be pressed, while the passengers in the cabin--but this you shall -read.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that cabin there sat four persons, three men and a woman--the last -of whom shall be first described. A woman young--of not more than -twenty-four years of age--fair and well-favoured, her wheat-coloured -hair brought back in a knot behind her head, above which, as was still -the custom of the time for ladies when travelling, she wore a -three-cornered hat. Wrapped in a long, collarless coat, square cut and -possessing no pockets--also the custom of the time--it was still easy -to perceive that, underneath, was a supple, graceful figure, and, -when--as was occasionally the case--this long coat was thrown open so -that the wearer might get a little relief from the stuffiness of the -cabin, the beauty of that figure might plainly be perceived beneath -the full scarlet waistcoat embroidered with gold lace, which, by its -plenitude of pockets, atoned for the absence of any in the coat. Her -face was, as has been said, a well-favoured one, oval, and possessing -large blue eyes and delicate, thin lips, and with upon it even here, -on this tossing sea, a fair rose and milk complexion, while in those -large eyes the observer might have well imagined he saw a look of -unhappiness. Also, too, a look of contempt whenever they rested on the -man who, as she leant an elbow on one side of the table between them, -leant one of his on the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">They rested on him now with much that look as, pushing over to her a -glass of burnt wine which the cabin-boy has just brought in at his -orders, as well as some ratafia biscuits, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would counsel you, my lady, to partake of a little more -refreshment. I have spoken with the master outside who says that by no -chance can we make Harwich ere nightfall. Your ladyship, excellent -sailor as you are, must have a care to your health."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My health," she replied, "needs no care, either from myself or you. -And when I am athirst I will drink, as when I am hungry I will eat. -You had best offer your refreshments to our fellow-passengers."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man to whom she spake was but two or three years older than -herself--and was her husband, Simeon Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge. -He, too, was well dressed in the travelling costume of the day, -wearing a black frock with a gold button, a black waistcoat trimmed -with gold, black velvet breeches, and a gold-laced three-cornered hat, -while on the table lay a silver-hilted hanger that slid about with -every motion of the vessel. In looks he was her equal, being, however, -as dark as she was fair, but of well-cut, even features and of a clear -complexion. He wore, too, his natural hair, cropped somewhat short as -though a wig might in other circumstances be easily assumed, but the -absence of this article of dress in no way detracted from his -appearance.</p> - -<p class="normal">As her ladyship spoke he darted one swift glance at her from under his -eyelids--a glance that seemed to embody in it a full return of all the -coldness and contempt with which she had addressed him; and then, -acting on her suggestion, he turned to the two other inhabitants of -the cabin and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, Father Sholto, and you, Fane, come and take a sup of the -liquor. 'Twill do you both good. Come and drink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, the drink, the drink," exclaimed the latter, "well, give me a -sup. Maybe 'twill appease a qualm. Kitty, me child," turning to Lady -Fordingbridge, "why do ye not do as your husband asks? 'Tis a good -stomachic--by the powers! how the barky rolls."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want nothing," her ladyship replied, lifting her eyes to him with -almost as contemptuous a glance as when she had previously raised them -to her husband, and then relapsing again into silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, too," said the other man, who had been addressed as "Father -Sholto," "will take a sup, she does roll badly. Yet, my lord," he -said, as he poured some out into a mug that stood by the liquor, "let -me persuade you to be more guarded in your expressions. To forget, -indeed," he went on, while his cold grey eyes were fixed on the other, -"that there is such a person as 'Father Sholto' in existence for the -present; that such a well-known ecclesiastic is travelling in your -Lordship's esteemed company. For," he continued, after swallowing the -liquor at a gulp, "I do assure you--Fane, see that the door of the -cabin is fast! and that none of the crew are about!--you could not -make your entry into your own country, could not return to make your -peace with King George, the Elector of Hanover--with a worse companion -in your train than the man who is known as 'Father Sholto.' -Therefore----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," interrupted Lord Fordingbridge impatiently, "I will not -forget again, Mr. Archibald. Enough!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," continued the other, as though no interruption had -occurred, still in the cold, low voice and still with the cold grey -eyes fixed on his lordship, "it is best you do not forget, at least, -at present. Later, if your memory fails you--I have known it -treacherous ere now--it will be of little importance. Charles Edward, -the Prince of Wales, is at Edinburgh, soon he will be at St. James'; -but until he is, remember what we are. You are the Viscount -Fordingbridge, but lately succeeded to your father's title, and a -convert from his Jacobitism to Hanoverian principles; her ladyship -here, who is ever to be depended upon, follows your estimable -political principles; her respected father, Mr. Doyle Fane, has, he -avers, no politics at all; and I am Mr. Archibald, a Scotch merchant. -You will remember?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste!</i> Yes. I will remember. Tutor me no more. Now, Fane, the sea -abates somewhat--go and discover if we are near the English coast. -And, Mr. Archibald, I have a word to say to my lady here, with your -permission. As I am at the expense of this passage, may I ask for a -moment's privacy with her? Doubtless the air on the deck will refresh -you both."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely," replied the other. "We will not intrude unless it grows -again so rough that we cannot remain on deck. Come, Fane."</p> - -<p class="normal">When both had left the cabin Lord Fordingbridge turned to his wife who -still sat, as she had done from the beginning of Mr. Archibald's -remarks, indifferent and motionless as though in no way interested in -what had passed, and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear, madam, the circumstances in which I return to my own. 'Tis -not too agreeable, I protest. We are Roman Catholics, yet we come as -Protestants, Jacobites, yet under the garb and mask of Hanoverians. -And in our train a Jesuit priest, arch-plotter, and schemer, who -passes as a respectable Scotch merchant. A sorry home coming, indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If such duplicity is painful to your lordship's mind," his wife -remarked, "'twould almost have been best to have remained in exile. -Then you would have been safe, at least, and have done no outrage to -your--conscience. And, later, when those who are fighting for Prince -Charles have re-established him upon his grandfather's throne--if they -ever do!--you could have declared yourself without fear of -consequences."</p> - -<p class="normal">No word, nor tone of her sneer was lost upon Lord Fordingbridge, and -he turned savagely upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have a care, my lady," he exclaimed, "have a care. There are ways in -my power you little dream of by which if your defiance----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Defiance!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Defiance! You dare to use that -term to me. You!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! Defiance. What! Shall the daughter of Doyle Fane, the broken-down -Irish adventurer, the master of the fence school in the Rue Trousse -Vache, flout and gibe me--the man who took her from a garret and made -her a lady--a peeress. I--I--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes!" she replied. "You! You--who have earned for ever her undying -hatred by doing so; by making her a lady by lies, by intriguing, by -duplicity. A lady! Yet your wife! Had you left me in the Rue Trousse -Vache--in the garret over the fence school--whose wife should I have -been now? Answer that, Simeon Larpent, answer that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The wife of a man," he said, quietly and calm again in a moment, for -he had the power to allay the tempestuous gusts that overtook him -occasionally almost as quickly as they arose, "who, if the fates are -not more propitious than I deem they will be, rides at the present -moment to his doom, to a halter that awaits him. A man who rides on a -fruitless journey to England as volunteer with his cousin Balmerino in -the train of Charles Edward; a man----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whom," she interrupted again, "I loved with my whole heart and soul; -whom I loved from the first hour my eyes ever gazed on him. A man whom -you separated me from with your Jesuitical lies--they did well to -educate you at Lisbon and St. Omer--a man who, if God is just, as I do -believe, shall yet live to take a desperate vengeance on you. And for -the reason that he may do so, I pray night and day that Charles Edward -will fight his way to London. Then you must meet--unless you flee back -to France again--then, Lord Fordingbridge, you must stand face to face -with him at last. Then----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you trust to be a widow. Is it not so, my lady? You will be free -then, and Bertie Elphinston may have the bride I stole from him. Is -that your devout aspiration?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, no!" she replied. "Or, if it is, it can never come to pass. If -Bertie Elphinston saw me now he would shrink from me. He would not -touch my hand. He would pass across the street to avoid me."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she uttered the last words there came from over the swirling, -troubled sea the boom of a cannon, accompanied a moment afterwards by -harsh cries and orders from the deck of the Galliot, and by the -rattling of cordage and a sudden cessation of the slight way that was -still on the vessel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What does that gun mean?" asked Lord Fordingbridge as he started to -his feet, while Fane and Mr. Archibald re-entered the cabin hastily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It means," said the disguised Jesuit, who spoke as coolly and calmly -as ever, "that the vessel which has been following us since dawn is -King George's--he forgot on this occasion to term the English king -'the Elector of Hanover'--Bomb-ketch the 'Furnace.' She has fired the -gun to bring us to. Doubtless they wish to inspect our papers and to -see there are no malignant priests or Jacobites on board. We are now -in English waters and within two miles of Harwich, therefore they are -quite within their rights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" exclaimed his lordship. "Let them come. What have we to fear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing whatever," replied Mr. Archibald. "The Viscount Fordingbridge -is an accession to the usurper's Whig peers; a harmless Irish -gentleman, such as Mr. Doyle Fane, and a simple Scotch merchant, such -as I, can do no harm. While for her ladyship here----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come on deck," said his lordship, "and let us see what is -doing. Will it please you to remain here, my lady?" he asked, turning -to his wife with an evil glance in his eye.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she replied, "if they wish to see me I shall be found here."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sea had abated considerably by now, so that already a boat had -been lowered from the ketch, which was not more than five cables -length from the Galliot by the time they reached the deck. It was -manned by a dozen sailors while an officer sat in the stern sheets, -and the brawny arms of the men soon brought it alongside. Then, while -the seamen kept the boat off the Galliot with their hands and oars, -the officer seized the man-ropes thrown over to him, and easily sprang -up the accommodation ladder on to the deck.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What vessel is this?" he asked fiercely of the captain, "and what -passengers do you carry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the Bravermann, of Rotterdam, sir," the young captain replied, -"chartered at Calais to bring his lordship and wife with two other -passengers to Dover. We are blown off our course, however, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are these passengers?" asked the officer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here is one," said Lord Fordingbridge, coming forward, "and here two -others whom I have accommodated with a passage. Her ladyship is in the -cabin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your papers, if you please."</p> - -<p class="normal">His lordship produced from his pocket two large documents, duly signed -by the English ambassador and countersigned by the first secretary of -the Legation, while to them was also affixed a stamp of the Mairie; -and the lieutenant, for such he was, glanced over them, compared the -description of the viscount with that of the person before him, and -then said he must see her ladyship.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come this way then," the other replied, and led him into the cabin. -"My lady," he said to his wife, "this gentleman wishes to compare you -with your description on our passports."</p> - -<p class="normal">Very calmly Lady Fordingbridge turned her eyes on the lieutenant as -he, touching his hat to her, glanced at the paper and retired saying -he was satisfied. Then, turning to the others, he said, "Now your -passports, quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fane and Mr. Archibald also passed his scrutiny, though once he looked -under his eyelids at the latter as if to make sure he was the man -whose description he held in his hand, and then their passports were -also returned to them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me see over the ship and also her papers," he said to the -captain, and when this was done he seemed satisfied that his duty had -been performed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may proceed," he said. "Call the boat away," and with such scant -ceremony he went to the ship's side and prepared to re-embark in his -own cutter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon me," exclaimed the viscount, stopping him, "but we have heard -strange rumours in Paris of a landing effected in Scotland by the -Prince of--the person known as the Young Pretender. Also we have heard -he has reached Edinburgh and been joined by many persons of position -in Scotland, and that an English army has set forth to oppose his -further march. Can you tell me, sir, if this is true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know nothing whatever on the subject," replied the lieutenant, -curtly as usual. "His Majesty's land forces concern us not; our -account is on the sea. And our duty is to search all unknown vessels -proceeding to England to see that they bear neither Jacobites, -pestilential priests, arms, nor money with them. Is the boat there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Hearing that she had again come alongside, having kept off the Galliot -to prevent her being stowed in, he descended swiftly to her without -deigning to award the slightest salute to anyone on board. But as his -men pulled off he saw the face of Lady Fordingbridge gazing out from -the cabin porthole, and raised his hat to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Mr. Archibald to the viscount, as they sat once more in -the cabin while the vessel now entered smooth water and drew close in -to Harwich, "whatever his duty may be he has not been wondrous happy -in carrying it out. For there are Jacobites, a pestilential priest, -and money for the cause all in this ship together, arms alone being -wanting. Faugh! he was a rough sea-dog, yet none too good a setter. -Well, well. Perhaps in this town we may glean some news."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> - -<h5>A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The month of May, 1746, was drawing to a close, and June was already -giving signs of its approach, as my Lord Viscount Fordingbridge sat in -the library of his house in Kensington-square and warmed his feet at -the fire which, in spite of the genial spring weather, burned -pleasantly on the hearth. By his side, on a table, lay the morning -papers of the day to which he constantly referred, and which, after -each occasion of doing so, he threw down with a very palpable -expression of satisfaction.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth," he muttered to himself, "nought could have gone much -better. I am safe and--and the necks of all the rest are jeopardised. -Jeopardised! Nay! 'tis much worse than that. Those who are caught must -surely die, those who are not caught must be so ere long. As for -Charles Edward himself he hath escaped. Well, let him go; I have no -quarrel with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again he took up one of the journals and read:</p> - -<p class="normal">"This morning his Majesty's ship of war, Exeter, arrived from -Scotland, having on board the Earls of Cromartie and Kilmarnock, and -the Lord Balmerino. They have been committed prisoners to the Tower on -a charge of high treason." "Ah," he mused, "that's well, so far as it -goes, though for myself I care not whether their lordships finish on -Tower Hill or are set free. Fools all! Yet they were near winning, the -devil seize them! had they but pushed on from Derby they must have -won, and the German who now sits secure would never have had my -allegiance. Charles Edward would have transformed my title into that -of a marquis, I doubt me if George will do as much in reward for my -change of politics. But what I would fain know is, where is the -wolf Elphinston, Balmerino's cousin? He fought at Culloden, I know -well--recklessly, like a man sick of life. Perhaps 'twas for his lost -love, Kitty! At least in Hawley's despatch he is mentioned as having -killed four men of Barrell's regiment with his own blade. May Fate -confound him! if taken his life is forfeit, but where is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A knock came at the library door as he mused, and in reply to his -answer Mr. Archibald entered. As usual, certainly since he left -France, he was clothed as became the part he had now assumed, of a -well-to-do Scotch merchant, there being only one new addition to any -portion of his dress. His hat, which he threw carelessly upon the -table, on the top of his lordship's journals, bore in it the <i>black</i> -cockade!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha! my worthy merchant," exclaimed Lord Fordingbridge, as his -quick eye perceived this, "my worthy dealer in brocades, broadcloth, -and Colchester baize, so already thou trimmest the sails to catch the -favouring German breezes. 'Tis well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop this fooling," said the Jesuit, looking angrily at him; "is this -the time for you to be joking and jeering when everything is lost? You -have the journals there, you know well what has happened. The -principals of the noblest cause, of the most sublime restoration that -would have ever taken place, are prisoners with their lives in -forfeit, some in London, some in Carlisle gaol, and some at Inverness, -and you sit gibing there. <i>Pardieu!</i> sometimes I think you are a fool -instead of the knave I once deemed you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," said the viscount, scowling at the other as he spoke, "you deem -yourself called upon to address me in such a manner, I shall be -forced, Mr. Archibald, to also alter my style of address to you, and -to speak both to and of you as the Reverend Archibald Sholto, priest -of the Society of Jesus, and an avowed Jacobite. And you will remember -that here, in England, at such a moment as this, to be so proclaimed -could not be otherwise than fraught with unpleasant consequences to -you. Moreover, you will have the goodness to remember that now--since -the disastrous events, to your side, of Culloden, the Viscount -Fordingbridge is a fervent Hanoverian."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will remember," said the priest, "that however desirous the -Viscount Fordingbridge may be to espouse the cause of the House of -Hanover, it is not in his power to do so, so long as there remains one -Stuart to assert a claim to the throne of his ancestors. When that -race ceases to exist, when no living Stuart is left to call for aid, -then perhaps, you may be permitted to become Hanoverian, not before. -Now, my Lord Fordingbridge, listen to me, while I go over the cards I -hold in my hand against Simeon Larpent, my whilom scholar at St. Omer, -who----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" exclaimed the other, "do nothing of the sort. I retract, I had -forgotten. Recall nothing. Yet, for my safety, I must appear an -adherent of King George. Indeed, to-morrow I attend his levée."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the good of the Stuart cause," the other said, "you will continue -as you have begun since your return to this country, to appear an -adherent of this King George; for the good of the cause that is not -yet lost. There will be another rising ere long, be sure of that; if -it comes not before, it will do so at the death of the present -usurper. Now, listen to the news I bring you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" the other asked, while he paled as he did so. "What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The worst that you can hear. Elphinston is in London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Elphinston here! Is he mad? His life is not worth an hour's -purchase."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He knows that," replied the Jesuit coolly, "as well as you or I do. -Yet he heeds it not. Why should he? Are not other men's lives doomed -who are now in London? Men who," he went on, speaking coldly and with -great distinctness, "brought money into England to aid the cause; -men," still his voice fell more and more crisp upon the other's ear, -"who did endeavour to compass the death of George as he returned from -his last visit to Herrenhausen; men who----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence, you Jesuit devil," interrupted the other. "Sometimes I -wonder that you do not fear to speak as you do; that you do not dread -that your own death may be compassed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no fear," replied the priest, taking snuff as he spoke, "so -long as the walls of St. Omer contain my papers. Rather should I fear -for those whose secrets would be divulged if I were to die. To die -even suddenly, without being assassinated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well! to your news," exclaimed the other. "What of Elphinston! Where -does he hide himself away?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the moment," answered the priest, "he--and my brother -Douglas----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So he is here, too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is here, too. They dwell together in lodgings at the village of -Wandsworth. Perhaps later, if it goes ill with Balmerino, they may -remove into the City."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To make some mad attempt to save him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly. Meanwhile, do you not dread to meet the man yourself! You -stole his bride from him, you will remember, and now he suspects how -you brought it about. How will you answer to him for the falsehoods by -which you persuaded her that he was already the husband of another -woman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my sword," Lord Fordingbridge replied--though at the moment he was -thinking of a far different manner in which Bertie Elphinstone should -be answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be your only plan," Sholto said. "For by treachery you can -accomplish nothing. If Elphinston is blown upon he will know well who -is his informer and will, in his turn, inform. Inform upon the man who -plotted to have George's person seized by French pirates as he -returned to England from France, the man who spread broadcast through -England the reward offered by Prince Charles of £30,000 to whomsoever -should seize and secure George----"<a name="div4Ref_A" href="#div4_A"><sup>[Note A]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," exclaimed Fordingbridge, maddened by the other's taunts, "why -do you persecute me like this? What have I ever done to you that you -threaten me thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Recall," replied the Jesuit, "your vows at St. Omer, your sins since, -your broken pledges, your cancelled oaths. Then answer to yourself why -I do these things. Moreover, remember I love my brother--he has been -my charge since his boyhood--and if Elphinston is betrayed Douglas -must fall too. Also remember, Elphinston has been ever beloved by me. -You have inflicted one deadly wound on him, you have wrecked his life -by striking him through his love--think you that I will ever permit -you to injure him again? Man!" the Jesuit said, advancing nearer to -Fordingbridge as he spoke, and standing before him in so threatening a -manner that the other shrank back from him, "if evil comes to -Elphinston through you, such evil shall in turn come to you through me -that I will rend your life for ever and always. Remember, I say again, -remember."</p> - -<p class="normal">He took his hat from off the table as he finished, and left the room -addressing no further remark to the other. And, quietly as he ever -moved, he was about to descend the stairs when Lady Fordingbridge -coming from out an open door, stopped him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish to speak to you," she said, in a soft, low voice, "come within -a moment," and, followed by Sholto, she led him back into the room she -had just quitted. Here, too, a warm pleasant fire burned in the grate, -while an agreeable aroma of violets stole through the apartment; and -motioning her visitor to a seat her ladyship said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the news true? Are they--is Mr. Elphinston in London?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true, Kitty," he said. "Yet I know not how you heard it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"From my father who dreads as much to meet him as the craven in his -library must do." She paused a moment, then she continued, "Have you -seen him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "I have seen him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," she asked, wistfully, "did he send no word of pardon--to me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Jesuit shook his head, though in a gentle kindly manner, ere he -replied. "No, child. He spoke not of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">She sat gazing into the embers for a few moments more; then she went -on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet he must know, he cannot but know how basely I was deceived. You -told me months ago that he had learnt some of the story from your -brother's lips, who learnt it from you. Is there no room for pity in -his heart? Will he never forgive?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he thinks aught," said the Jesuit, still very gently, to her, "it -is that you should never have believed so base a tale. So at least he -tells Douglas. To me he has never spoken of the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" she said. "How could I doubt? Lord Fordingbridge I might have -disbelieved, but my father!" and here she shuddered. "How could I -think that he would stoop to practise such lies, such duplicity, on -his own child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Father Sholto made no answer to this remark, contenting himself with -lifting his hands from his knees and warming the palms at the fire. -And so they sat, neither speaking for two or three moments. Then she -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father, will you take a letter to him from me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">This time he lifted his bushy eyebrows instead of his hands, and -looked at her from underneath them. Next he shrugged his shoulders, -and then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kitty, for you I will do anything, for you who have ever been a -dutiful daughter of the Church, ay! and a loyal adherent to a now -sadly broken cause. Yet, child, what use to write? Nothing can undo -what is done; you must make the best of matters. Solace your wounded -heart with the rank you have gained, with your husband's now -comfortable means, your reception at the Court of the Hanoverian king, -for king he is, and, I fear, must be. However great the evil that was -done, it must be borne. You and Bertie Elphinston are sundered for -ever in this world, unless----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unless?" she repeated, with a swift glance from her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You both survive him. Yet, how shall such a thing be! He is no older -than Elphinston himself, and, much as he has wronged that other, no -reparation, not even his life, would set things right. If Bertie slew -him he could not marry his victim's widow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! alas!" said Lady Fordingbridge, "the last thing he would wish -to do now, even were I free, would be to have me for his wife. Me whom -once he loved so tenderly."</p> - -<p class="normal">Once more the Jesuit twitched up his great eyebrows and muttered -something to himself, and then seemed bent in thought. And as Kitty -sat watching him she caught disconnected whispers from his lips. -"Douglas might do it," she heard him say; "that way the gate would be -open. Yet he cannot be spared, not yet," until at last he ceased, -after which, looking up from his reverie, he said to her:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you wish to write to him, child? You, the Viscountess -Fordingbridge, must have a care as to your epistles to unmarried men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be under no apprehension," she replied. "Yet, if--if--he would pardon -me, would send me one little line to say--God!--that he does not hate -me--oh! that he who once loved me so should come to hate me--then, -then I might again be happy, a little happy. Father, I must write to -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," he answered. "Write if you must. I will convey the -letter."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> - -<h5>A WOMAN'S LETTER.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The next night Father Sholto, who was lodged in Lord Fordingbridge's -house, took a hackney coach through the fields to Chelsea Church, and -so was ferried across to Battersea. Then, because the evening was soft -and mild and there was a young moon, he decided to walk on by the road -to the next village, namely Wandsworth, which lay half an hour further -on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor Kitty," he thought to himself, as he felt the packet she had -confided to him press against his breast, "poor Kitty! Why could she -not have believed in Bertie's truth? Surely anything might have been -set against the word of such a creature as Simeon Larpent, pupil of -mine though he be. <i>Peste!</i> why was not I in Paris when all was -happening? By now they would have been happy. They could have lived in -France or Italy. We, the Society," and he crossed himself as he went -on, "would have found the wherewithal; or even in America they might -have, perhaps, been safe. Yet now! Now! Elphinston is a heartbroken -man; Kitty, a heartbroken woman. Alas! alas!"</p> - -<p class="normal">With meditations such as these, for political Scotch Jesuit as -Archibald Sholto was, and fierce partisan of his countrymen, Charles -Stuart and his father James, there beat a kindly heart within him, he -reached the long, straggling village street of Wandsworth. Then, -turning off somewhat sharply to the right, he emerged after another -five minutes upon a road above the strand of the river, on which, set -back in shady gardens, in which grew firs, cedars, and chestnut trees, -were some antique and picturesque houses built a hundred years before.</p> - -<p class="normal">At one of these, the first he came to, he knocked three times on the -garden gate and rang a bell, the handle of which was set high in the -door frame; and then in a moment a strong, heavy tread was heard -coming from the house to the gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it?" a man's voice asked from within.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Nunquam triumphans</i>,"<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> -was the priest's answer, softly given, and -as he spoke the postern door was opened, and a tall man stood before -Sholto. In a moment their hands were clasped in each other's and their -greetings exchanged.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis good of you, Archie, to come again to-night," his younger -brother said to him; "have you brought more news? How fares it with -those in the Tower?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ill," replied the other. "As ill as may be. The trials are -fixed, 'tis said, for July at latest. One will, however, escape. -Tullibardine----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Marquis of Tullibardine escape! Why, then, there is hope for the -others!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay!" replied the elder brother, "there is, by the same way. -Tullibardine is dying in the Tower. His life draws to a close."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pish! What use such an escape? But come in, Archie. Bertie looks ever -for you." Then he stopped on the gravel path and, gazing into the -other's face as it shone in the moonlight, he said, "What of Kitty? -Have you told her he is in London?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," replied the Jesuit, "and have on me now a letter to him from -her, suing, I believe, for forgiveness. Douglas!" he exclaimed, -seizing the other by the arm, "Bertie must pardon her. You must make -him. Otherwise----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear I know not what. Her love for him is what it ever was, -stronger, fiercer, may be, because of the treachery that tore them -asunder; she thinks of him alone. And if she grows desperate Heaven -knows what may be the outcome of it. Murder of Simeon! betrayal of -him! Self-slaughter! She is capable of all or any, if goaded too far. -He must forgive her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive her!" exclaimed his younger brother. "Forgive her! Why, who -shall doubt it; what possesses your mind? There is no fear of that. -No, that is not what there is to fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then?" asked Archibald, bewildered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That if they should once again meet no power on earth could ever part -them more. Even now he broods all day, and night too, on finding her, -on carrying her off by force. There are scores of our countrymen in -London in disguise who would do it for him at his bidding or help him -to do it as well as to slay Fordingbridge. I tell you, Archie, he -would stand at nothing. Nothing! Why, man, as we fought side by side -at Prestonpans he muttered a score of times, 'Kate, Kate, Kate.' And -once, as he cut down an officer of Fowke's dragoons, he exclaimed, -'Each Hanoverian dog who falls brings us so much the nearer to London -and me to Kate.' Faith! though the battle lasted but four minutes, he -muttered her name ten times as often."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," said the other, "let us go in to him. I would I knew what is -best to do. Ah, well! most affairs settle themselves. Pray Heaven this -one may."</p> - -<p class="normal">Over a fire, burning in an ancient grate constructed for the -consumption of wood alone, they found Bertie Elphinston brooding, as -his friend had described. And as all the Scotch had done who had -sought a hiding-place in London after the defeat of the Stuart army in -Scotland, any marks that might proclaim their nationality had been -carefully exchanged--where the purse allowed--for more English traits -and characteristics. Therefore Elphinston was now clad as any other -gentleman of the time might be, plainly but well--a branched velvet -coat with a satin lining, a black silk embroidered waistcoat, and -breeches of velvet in keeping with the coat constituting his dress, -while he wore his own hair, of a dark-brown colour and slightly curly. -Against the side of the large open-mouthed grate and near to his hand -there reclined an ordinary plate-handled sword, with the belt hanging -to it as when unbuckled from the body; deeper in a recess might be -seen two claymores, with which weapons the Scotch had recently -inflicted such deadly slaughter on the Duke of Cumberland's troops.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, Archie!" exclaimed the young man, springing up from his chair and -grasping the Jesuit's hand, "welcome, old friend. So you have found -your way here once more. <i>A la bonne chance!</i> Yet," he went on, while -his handsome face clouded again with the gloomy look that it had borne -before lighting up at the entrance of their friend, "why say so! You -can bring us no good news now--you can," he said in a lower voice, -"bring me none. Yet speak, Archie, how is it with our poor friends?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As before. There is no news, except that their trials are fixed. -Yet all bear up well, the head of your house especially so. He jests -ever--p'raps 'tis to cheer his wife more than for aught else. She is -admitted to see him, and brings and takes our news, and he sends -always, through her, his love to you. Also he bids you begone from out -of England, you and Douglas both, since there can be no safety for you -in it. The king is implacable, he will spare none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the Prince, our Prince," asked Elphinston, "what of him; is he -safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not taken," replied the other. "We know nought else. But in -truth, it is partly to endorse Lord Balmerino's injunction that I am -here to-night. Both of you must begone. London is no place for -Jacobites of any degree; for those who have recently fought the peril -is deadly. Already the whole town is searched from end to end. The -Tower is full of prisoners. From noble lords down to the meanest, it -is crammed with them. Gallows are already being put up on Kennington -Common; soon the slaughter will begin. My boys, you must back to -France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Douglas may go if he will," replied Elphinston, looking at his -comrade. "I remain here. I have something to do." Then he said -quietly, "Where is Lord Fordingbridge?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At present in London, but he leaves for his seat in Cheshire -to-morrow. Bertie," the Jesuit exclaimed, "if what you have to do is -with him it must be postponed. To seek out Fordingbridge now would be -your undoing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And his wife--does--does she go too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the other replied, "she stays in London. Bertie, I have brought -you a letter from her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A letter from Kate--Lady Fordingbridge--to me! To me! What does it -mean? What can have caused her to write to me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Best read the letter," replied the other. "And as you read it -think--try to think--kindly of her. Remember, too, that whatever she -was to you once, she is now another man's wife. However great a -villain he may be, remember that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me the letter," Elphinston said briefly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sholto took from his pocket the little packet; then, as he gave it to -the other, he said, "Douglas and I will leave you to its perusal. The -night is fine, he can walk with me to Battersea. Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell," returned Elphinston. "And--and--tell her ladyship if there -is aught to answer such answer will be sent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be careful of your messengers. Remember. Danger surrounds you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall remember."</p> - -<p class="normal">When they were gone, his friend saying he would be back in an hour's -time, the young man turned the letter over more than once ere he broke -the seal--it bore no address upon it, perhaps for safety's sake--and -then, at last, he opened it and commenced its perusal. And as he did -so and saw the once familiar handwriting, he sighed profoundly more -than once. Yet soon he was engrossed in the contents. They ran as -follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear you are in London and that at last is it possible for me -to do what I have long desired--though hitherto no opportunity has -arisen--namely, to explain that which in your eyes may seem to be my -treachery to you.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Elphinston, when you and I last parted, I was your affianced -wife; I write to you now as the wife of another man to ask you for -your pardon. If I set down all as it came to pass it may be that, at -least, you will cease to hate my memory--the memory of my name. -Nightly I pray that such may some day be the case. Thereby at last I -may know ease, though never again happiness in this world.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you quitted Paris a year ago you went, as you said you were -going, to Rome on a message to the Pope connected with the Cause. -Alas! you and Father Sholto had not been sped a week ere very -different tidings reached me. My father--God forgive him!--first -poisoned my ears with rumours--which he said were spread not only over -all Paris but also at St. Germains, Vincennes, and Marly--that it was -on no political matter that you had departed. It was known--even I -knew so much, I had jested with you about it, had even been sore on -the subject--that Madeleine Baufremont, of the Queen's Chamber, -admired you. Now, so said my unhappy father, with well-acted misery, -it was whispered that she and you had gone away together. Moreover, he -said there was no doubt that you and she were married. He even named -the church at which the marriage had taken place at Moret, beyond -Fontainebleau."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so," muttered Bertie Elphinston, as he read. "I see. I begin to -see. 'Tis as I thought, though I did not know this. Well, a better lie -than one might have hoped."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next," the letter continued, "there came to me the man who is now my -husband--then, as you know, the Honourable Simeon Larpent, his father -being still alive. Needless to tell you, Mr. Elphinston, of how this -man had ever sought my love; first, because of our poverty, in a -manner alike disgraceful to both, and next, when that design failed, -in a more honourable fashion. Yet, of no avail when you---- But -enough. You also know well how every plea of his was rejected by me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He, too, told the same tale. He protested to me that on the morning -you left St. Germains Madeleine Baufremont set out on the same -southern road, that your carriages met and joined at Étampes, and that -thence you travelled together to Moret."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The devil can indeed speak the truth," muttered Bertie, as he read -thus far.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still, I would not--I could not--believe. Our last parting was -fresh in my mind, ay! in my heart; our last vows and last farewells, -our projects for the future, our hopes of days of happiness to -come--forgive me if I remind you of them--they are wrecked now! I say -I could not believe. Yet, wherever I looked, wherever I made -inquiries, there was but one answer. The English, Scotch, and Irish -gentlemen who frequented my father's house all gave the same answer, -though none spake the words I feared. Some, I observed, regarded me -with glances that were full of pity--for which I hated them--others -preserved a silence that was worse tenfold than speech, some smiled in -their sleeves. And Larpent was ever there--always, always, always. And -one day he came to where I was sitting and said to me, 'Kitty, if you -will indeed know the truth, there is a witness below who can give it -to you. The <i>curé</i> of Moret has come to Paris with a petition to the -king against the exactions of the Seigneur. Kitty, he it was who made -Bertie Elphinston and Madeleine Baufremont man and wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'So be it,' I replied. 'Yet, remember their marriage makes ours no -nearer.' 'It will come,' he replied. 'I can not believe that my reward -will never come.' Whereon he left the room and came back with the -<i>curé</i>. Alas! he told so plain a tale, describing you with such -precision and Madeleine Baufremont also, that there was, indeed, no -room left for doubt. Yet still I could scarce believe; for even though -you had not loved me, even though your burning words, your whispers of -love had all been false, why, why, I asked again and again, should you -have stooped to such duplicity? If you had tired of me, if that other -had turned your heart from me to her, one word would have been enough; -I must have let you go when you no longer desired to stay by my side. -Mr. Elphinston, I wrote to you at Rome, to the address you had given -me and to the English College there; I wrote to Father Sholto--alas! I -so much forgot my pride, that I wrote to Douglas, who had then joined -the squadron commanded by Monsieur de Roquefeuille for the invasion of -England. I could not part from you yet"--these words were scored out -by the writer, and, in their place, the sentence began--"I could not -yet believe in your deceit, in your cold, cruel betrayal of a woman -who had trusted in you as in a god; it seemed all too base and -heartless. Yet neither from you nor the Sholtos came one line in -answer to my prayer."</p> - -<p class="normal">Elphinston groaned bitterly as he read the words. He knew now how -easily the trap had been laid.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, at last, I did believe. Then, at last, I renounced you and your -love. I denied to my own heart that I had ever known a man named -Bertie Elphinston, that I had ever been that man's promised wife. I -tore you from my heart for ever. It was hard, yet I did it. Time -passed, no intelligence came of you or Madeleine Baufremont. I even -heard that the Duc de Baufremont had petitioned the king that, if you -again entered French territory, you should be punished for abducting -his daughter. Yet, as the days went on, I allowed Simeon Larpent to -approach me no nearer on the subject. So he and my father concocted a -fresh scheme by which I was at last led to consent to become his wife. -We were, as you know, poor, horribly poor; the <i>Cours d'Escrime</i> -hardly provided for our needs. Often, indeed, I had wondered how we -managed to subsist so well on what seemed to me to be nothing. My -father talked vaguely of an allowance to him, in common with other -refugees from England, from the French king or from the Chevalier St. -George, or the Scotch Fund. Now--for at this period the old Lord -Fordingbridge died--he said we had been subsisting for some time on -money lent, or we could, if we chose, consider it given to us, by the -present lord. He would never, my father said, demand repayment; -indeed, such was his lordship's respect for him and his admiration for -me, that he would cheerfully continue his allowance, or, since he was -now very well-to-do, increase it. So I learnt that I had been -dependent for the bread I ate, the dress I wore, to this man. Need I -say more! You know that I became the wife of Lord Fordingbridge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A month had not passed ere I knew the truth as to how I had been -duped and deceived--as to how I had been false to you. De -Roquefeuille's squadron was driven back by Sir John Norris, and -Douglas Sholto returned to Paris. He told me all; that it was your -kinsman and namesake of Glenbervie who had left Paris with you to -espouse Madeleine Baufremont, and that you--tied under a solemn -promise to in no way let his approaching marriage with her be -known--had kept the secret even from me. Alas! had you given me one -hint, spoken one word, how different all would have been! Yet, I do -not reproach you for fidelity to your friend; I only ask that when you -think of me--if you ever think at all--as not trusting you, you will -recollect that your own silence made it possible for me to doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One word more, and I shall not trouble you further. It is to beseech -you to quit London at once, to put yourself in safety, with the seas -between you and the English Government. For, even though you might lie -hid from the vengeance that will fall on all followers of the prince -who may be caught, I fear that private malice, aided by personal fear -of you, may lead to your betrayal. Be warned, I beseech you. Farewell -and forgive.</p> - -<p style="text-indent:40%">"<span class="sc">Catherine Fordingbridge</span>."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The letter written by Lady Fordingbridge, read in conjunction with -some other remarks made by other persons who have been introduced to -the reader's notice, may serve to inform him of the state of affairs -that led to the position in which things were at the period when this -narrative commences, namely, the month of May, 1746. A few other words -of additional explanation alone are necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the time when Cardinal Tencin (who looked forward to becoming the -successor of Fleury as Prime Minister of France, and who owed his -elevation to the purple as well as to the Primacy of France to the -influence of the old Pretender) persuaded Louis XV. to support the -claims of the Stuarts as his great-grandfather and predecessor had -done, Paris was, as is well known to all readers of history, full of -English, Scotch, and Irish Jacobites. These refugees from their own -countries were to be found in all capacities in that city, some -serving as the agents of the exiled Chevalier de St. George, who was -now resident at Rome, and others as correspondents between the -followers of the Stuarts in London, Rome, and Paris; also, some -resided there either from the fact that their presence would not be -tolerated in England or its dependencies, and some because, in their -staunch loyalty to the fallen House, they were not disposed to dwell -in a country which they considered was ruled over by usurpers. To this -class belonged the late Viscount Fordingbridge, a staunch Cheshire -nobleman, who had been out in the '15, had afterwards escaped from the -Isle of Skye, and had also had the good fortune to escape forfeiture -of his estates, owing to the fact that, though he had been out -himself, he had neither furnished men, arms, nor money, so far as was -known.</p> - -<p class="normal">But also in Paris were still others who, loyal Jacobites as they were, -and followers of a ruined party, were yet obliged to earn their bread -in the best way they were able. Thus Doyle Fane, Kitty's father, an -Irish gentleman of good family who had himself seen service under -France and Austria, eked out a slender allowance--paid irregularly by -James Stuart--by lessons in swordsmanship, of which art he was an -expert master. Some, again, obtained commissions in French regiments, -many, indeed, being glad to serve as simple privates; while several -who were more fortunate--and among whom were Douglas Sholto and Bertie -Elphinston--obtained positions in the Garde du Roi or the -Mousquetaires, or other corps, and so waited in the hopes of a descent -on England in which they would be allowed to take part by resigning -temporarily their French commissions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of priests affecting Stuart principles there were also several, some, -as was the case with Archibald Sholto, being temporarily attached to -St. Omer, at which there was a large English seminary for the -education of young Catholics, but all of whom were frequently in -London and Paris, plotting always restlessly for the overthrow of the -present reigning House in England, and for the restoration of the -discarded one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fane's residence at this period, which was shortly before the -expedition of Charles Edward to recover, if possible, the throne of -England for his father, was a popular resort of many of the exiled -English, Scotch, and Irish, principally because, in the better classes -of men who were still young, the practice of the sword was unceasing, -and also, perhaps, because in the next house to his was a well-known -tavern, "Le Phœbus Anglais," kept by a Jacobite, and a great place -of assembly for all the fraternity. But for the younger men there was -an even greater attraction than either the advantages of continued -practice in swordsmanship or a cheap but good tavern--the attraction -of Kitty Fane's beauty.</p> - -<p class="normal">Kitty kept her father's house for him, kept also his accounts, made -his fees go as long a way as possible, and his bottle last out as well -as could be the case when submitted so often to the constant demands -on it, and was admired and respected by all who came to the little -house in the Rue Trouse Vache. Besides her beauty, she was known to be -a girl who respected herself, and was consequently respected; and as -Doyle Fane was also known to be a gentleman by birth, and Kitty's -mother to have been a daughter of one of the oldest families in -Ireland, none ever dreamed of treating her in a manner other than -became a lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of declared lovers she had two, one whom she disliked for reasons she -knew not why--at first; the other whom she adored. Simeon Larpent, -heir to the then dying Lord Fordingbridge, was one; Bertie Elphinston, -of the Regiment of Picardy, the other. With Larpent, however, the -reasons why she disliked him soon made themselves apparent. He was -crafty by nature, with a craft that had been much fostered at St. Omer -and Lisbon, where he was educated, and he was, she thought, lacking in -bravery. When other men were planning and devising as to how they -could find a place in that army which--under Count Saxe, to be -convoyed to England by De Roquefeuille--was then forming, he made no -attempt to become one of its number, giving as his reasons his -father's ill-health and his opinion that he could better serve the -Cause by remaining in France. Yet Bertie Elphinston had at the same -time a delicate mother residing at Passy, and Douglas Sholto was in -poor health at the moment; and still they were both going.</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreover, Simeon Larpent's admiration was distasteful to her. He had -then but recently come back to Paris from Lisbon, from which he -brought no particular good character, while he appeared by his -conversation and mode of life to have contracted many extremely bad -habits. In the Paris of those days the practice and admiration of -morality stood at a terribly low point, yet Simeon Larpent seemed more -depraved than most young men were in that city even. In a morose and -sullen fashion he revelled in all the iniquities that prevailed during -the middle of Louis XV's reign, and his name became noted in English -circles as that of a man unscrupulous and abandoned, as well as shifty -and cunning. Moreover, even his Jacobitism was looked upon with -doubtful eyes, and not a few were heard to say that the hour which -witnessed his father's death would also see him an avowed Hanoverian. -That such would have been the case was certain, had not, however, the -old lord's death taken place at the very moment when Charles Edward -made the last Stuart bid for restoration in England. But at such a -time it was impossible that the new peer could approach the English -king. Had he done so it would have been more than his life was worth. -At the best, he would have been forced into a duel with some -infuriated Jacobite; at the worst, his body would have been found in -the Seine, stabbed to the heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile those events which Lady Fordingbridge had spoken of in her -letter to Bertie Elphinston had taken place; nothing was heard by her -either of her lover or the Sholtos, and she became the wife of -Fordingbridge. For a month he revelled in the possession of the -beautiful woman he had coveted since first he set eyes on her; then -she found out the truth and his lordship had no longer a wife except -in name. She had one interview with him--alone--and after that had -taken place she never willingly spoke to him again. Her pride forbade -her to separate from him, but with the exception that the same roof -sheltered and the same walls enclosed them, they might as well have -dwelt in different streets. Against all his protestations, his vows, -his declarations that love, and love alone, had forced him to play the -part he had, she turned a deaf ear; she would not even open her lips -if possible, to show that she had heard his words. She had come to -hate and despise him--as she told him in that one interview--and her -every action afterwards testified that she had spoken the truth.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, when the married life of Lord and Lady Fordingbridge had -arrived at this pass, the time was also come when scores of Jacobites, -militant, priestly, or passive as they might be, poured into England. -For Charles Edward had landed at Moidart, Tullibardine had displayed -at Glenfinnen the white, blue, and red silk standard of the prince, -the march southward had begun. Following on this news--all of which -reached Paris with extraordinary rapidity--came the intelligence of -the Battle of Preston, the capture of Edinburgh, Charles's -installation at Holyrood, the rout of Cope's army, the march into -England, and the determination of George II. to take the field in -person against the invader. And among those who received their orders -to at once proceed to England was Lord Fordingbridge, such orders -coming from out the mouth of the restless Father Sholto.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," exclaimed his lordship, "I have no desire to proceed to -England. My unhappy married life--for such it has become--will be no -better there than here. And in France, at least, matrimonial disputes -are not regarded."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your desire," said the priest, "is of no concern. I tell you what is -required of you--there is nothing left for you but to conform. We wish -a goodly number of adherents to the Stuart cause--indeed, all whom it -is possible to obtain--to be in London when the prince and his army -arrive, as it is now an almost foregone conclusion they will do. You -must, therefore, be there. Only, since you are of a calculating--not -to say timorous--nature, and as no Jacobite nobleman will be permitted -to enter England until the prince is in London, you will travel with -papers describing you as a nobleman who has given in his adherence to -the House of Hanover. I shall go with you--it is necessary that I keep -you under my eyes as much as possible; also it is fitting that I -should be in London. In either case my services will be required, -whether we are successful or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">In this way, therefore, his lordship returned to England in company -with his wife and his wife's father as well as the Jesuit. Only, he -made several reservations in his own mind as to how he would manage -his own political affairs, as to how, indeed, he would trim his sails.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said he to himself, "whether I become Hanoverian or remain -Jacobite will depend vastly on which side wins. Once in England I -shake off this accursed hold which Sholto and all the other priests of -St. Omer have on me; nay, if Hanover comes up uppermost, Sholto -himself shall be laid by the heels. There will be a pretty sweep made -of the Jesuits if Charles gets beaten. If he drives out George, why, -then--ah! well, time enough to ponder."</p> - -<p class="normal">The events of three months soon showed to which side victory was -ultimately to belong. Cumberland destroyed the Scotch army, Charles -Edward was in hiding in the land he had entered attended by such -bright hopes and prospects; all who had fought on his side were either -dead, in prison, or fled. And Simeon Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge, -was--quite with the consent for the time being of Archibald Sholto--an -avowed Hanoverian and received into favour by the Hanoverian king, -though with a strong watch kept on all his actions by that king's -Ministers.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> - -<h5>MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On the day after Bertie Elphinston received the letter from his lost -love, Lady Fordingbridge, his lordship himself set out from London to -journey into Cheshire, there to visit his estate in that county. He -had previously intimated to his wife--who had told Father Sholto of -the fact--that he intended being absent from London for some weeks; -indeed, had asked her whether it was her desire to accompany him. To -this question or invitation her ladyship had, however, returned the -usual monosyllabic answer which she generally accorded him, and had -briefly replied "No." Then being pressed by him to give some reason -for her refusal to so accompany him, she had turned round with that -bright blaze in her blue eyes which he had learnt to dread, and had -exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why pester me--especially when we are alone--with these useless -questions and formalities? We have arranged, decided the mode in which -our existences are to be passed, if passed together--it is enough. We -remain together ostensibly on the condition that I share this house -with you--I will have no other part in your false life. And if you -cannot conform to this arrangement, then even this appearance of union -can--had best be--severed."</p> - -<p class="normal">The viscount bit his lips after her cold contemptuous tones, yet, with -that strange power which he possessed, he overmastered the burning -rage that rose up in his heart against her. Only he asked himself now, -as often before he had asked himself, would he always be able to -exercise such control--able to refrain from bursting forth against -her, and by so doing put an end to the artificial existence they were -living?</p> - -<p class="normal">But now the morning had come for him to depart for the country; -outside in the square he could hear the horses shaking their harness -while his carriage waited for him; it was time for him to go. -Therefore he went to his wife's morning-room and found her ladyship -taking her chocolate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come, madam," he said, with that usual assumption of courtliness -which he always treated her to since they had become estranged, "to -bid you farewell for some few weeks. I will notify you by the post of -my proposed return. Meanwhile your ladyship need not be dull. You have -the entry now to the Court circles, you have also your respected -father with you in this house. And there are many friends of your -younger days in London"--he shot an evil, oblique glance at her out of -the corner of his eye as he said this, which was not lost on her--"to -wit, Mr. Archibald and--and--others. Doubtless ere I return you may -have renewed some of your earlier acquaintanceships. They should be -agreeable."</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer she gave him never a word, but, stirring her cup of -chocolate leisurely, looked him straight in the face; then she let her -eyes fall on the journal she had been perusing and again commenced to -do so as though he were not in the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse her," muttered her husband to himself as her indifference stung -him to the quick, "curse her, ere long the bolt shall be sped." After -which he exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lady, as is ever the case, I perceive my presence is unwelcome. -Once more I bid you adieu," and took himself out of the room and also -out of the house. And so he set forth upon his journey.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a young man on the road to his old family seat, Lord Fordingbridge -was that morning strangely preoccupied and indifferent to the events -around him, and sat in his carriage huddled up in one corner of it -more like an elderly sick man than aught else. The cheerful bustle of -the village of Islington, the pretty country villas at Highgate, the -larks singing over Finchley Common and Hadley Green, had no power to -rouse him from his stupor--if stupor it was--nor either had the bright -sun and the warm balmy spring air that came in at the open windows. A -strange way for an English nobleman to set out upon his journey to the -place where his forefathers had dwelt for ages! A strange way, indeed, -considering that he might be regarded as an extremely fortunate man. -The head of a family with strong Stuart tendencies, and suspected of -himself participating in those tendencies, he had yet been at once -received into favour by the King on returning to London. This alone -should have made his heart light within him, for he had but now to -conform to that King's demands to pass the rest of his existence in -peace and full enjoyment of his comfortable means--to feel that his -father's and his family's Jacobitism was forgotten, that all was well -with him. George was now welcoming to his fold every exiled Jacobite -who had not openly fought or plotted and schemed against him in the -recent invasion, and many peers and gentlemen who had long lived -abroad in exile were hastening to tender their adherence to the German -king, feeling perfectly sure that, after the events of the past three -months, the day of the Stuarts was past and gone for ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">Why, therefore, could not Simeon Larpent look forward as hopefully to -the future as all his brother exiles who had returned were doing? Why! -Was it because of the enmity of his wife to him, an enmity which he -knew could never slacken; or was it because of his fear of that other -man whom he had so deeply wronged; or because of what his scheming -mind was now fashioning? This we shall see.</p> - -<p class="normal">The roads were heavy with the recent spring showers so that the four -horses of his coach could drag it but tediously along them, and it was -nightfall ere South Mimms was reached, and night itself ere they -arrived at St. Albans, and Lord Fordingbridge descended at the Angel. -To the bowing landlord he gave his name, and stated that he wished a -bedroom and a parlour for himself, and a room for his men; and then, -as he was about to follow his obsequious host up the broad staircase, -he said, pulling out his watch:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is now after seven. At nine I expect to be visited by a gentleman -whom I have appointed to meet me here. His name is Captain Morris. You -will please entertain him at my cost to-night, and do so at your best. -On his arrival, if he hath not supped, ask him to do so; if he hath, -show him in at once to me. Now I will prepare for my own meal."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Boniface bowed low--lower even than before, after he had become -acquainted with his visitor's rank and position--and escorted him to a -large, comfortable bedroom on the first floor, in which a cheerful -fire burnt in the grate. And throwing open two heavy folding-doors, he -showed next a bright sitting-room, also with a fire, and well lit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This will do very well," said his lordship. "Now send my servant to -me with my valise. And let him wait on me at table."</p> - -<p class="normal">All through the repast he partook of the viscount meditated gloomily -and gravely, eating but little of the substantial meal provided by the -landlord, drinking sparingly, and addressing no remark to his servant. -Then when he had finished, he had his chair drawn up before the fire, -a bottle of wine and another of brandy placed on the table, and, -bidding the servant withdraw and bring Captain Morris to him when he -should arrive, he again fell to meditating and musing, speaking -sometimes aloud to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the only way," he muttered, in disconnected sentences, -"the only way. And it must be done at one swoop; otherwise it is -useless. So long as one of them is free I am fettered. The only way! -And--then--when that is accomplished--to deal with you, my lady. Let -me see." He began counting on his fingers and tapping the tips as -still he pondered, touching first his forefinger, then the second and -third, and once or twice nodding his head as though well satisfied -with himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for Fane," he muttered next, "he scarce counts. Yet he, too, must -be taken care of. But of that later. Doubtless when I begin with my -lady--Vengeance confound her!--he will become revengeful, but before -he can do so--well, he will be harmless. So, so. It should work."</p> - -<p class="normal">The clock struck nine as he spoke, and he compared it with his great -tortoiseshell watch, and then sat listening. The inn was very quiet, -he doubted if any other travellers were staying in it, especially as -the coach from London passed through early in the day, but outside in -the street there were signs of life. The rustics bade each other -good-night as they passed; a woman's laugh broke the air now and -again; sometimes a dog barked. And at last, above these sounds, he -heard a horse's hoofs clattering along the street as though ridden -fast.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," said his lordship, "may be he. 'Tis very possible. For one of -his Majesty's servants, he is none too punctual."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke the horse drew up with still more clatter at the porch -below his window, and he heard a clear, firm voice ask if Lord -Fordingbridge had that day arrived from London. And two or three -moments later his servant knocked at the door, and, entering, said -that Captain Morris was come.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has he supped?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He says he requires nothing, my lord, but desires to see you at once. -He rides to Hertford to-night, he bid the landlord say, and has but -little time at his disposal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. Show him in," and a moment later Captain Morris entered the -room.</p> - -<p class="normal">A man of something more than middle age, this gentleman's features, -aquiline and clear cut, presented the appearance of belonging to one -in whom great ability as well as shrewdness and common sense were -combined. Tall and extremely thin, his undress riding-habit of dark -blue embroidered with gold lace set off his figure to extreme -advantage, while the light sword he carried by his side, his -gold-trimmed three-cornered hat with its black cockade, and his long -riding boots all served to give him the appearance of an extremely -gentlemanly and elegant man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, sir," said Lord Fordingbridge, advancing to meet him with -extended hand, while at the same time he noticed--and took account -of--the clear grey eyes, the thin lips, and aquiline nose of his -visitor. "Welcome, sir. I am glad you have been able to reach here -to-night. To-morrow I must resume my journey. Be seated, I beg."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The orders which I received from London," replied Captain Morris, in -a clear, refined voice that corresponded perfectly with his -appearance, "made it imperative that I should call on you to-night. As -your lordship may be aware, in this locality I have certain duties to -perform which can be entrusted to no one else."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am aware of it," Fordingbridge replied. Then he said, "Before we -commence our conversation, let me offer you a glass of wine or brandy. -The night is raw, and you have doubtless ridden long."</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Morris bowed, said he would drink a glass of wine, and, when -he had poured it out of the decanter, let it stand by his side -untouched for the moment. After which he remarked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand, my lord, that I am to receive from your lips to-night -some information of considerable importance to his Majesty, touching -those who have been engaged in plotting against his security. May I -ask you to proceed at once with what you have to tell me? I have still -some distance to ride to-night, and also other work to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered Fordingbridge, "you have been exactly informed. -Yet--how to tell--how to begin, I scarcely know. My object is to put -in the King's hands--without, of course, letting it be known that the -information comes from me--some facts relating to several notorious -Jacobites now sheltering in London. Men who are," he continued, -speaking rapidly, "inimical to his Majesty's peace and security, -hostile to his rule, and, if I mistake not, bent at the present moment -in endeavouring in some way to effect a rescue of the Scotch lords now -in confinement at the Tower."</p> - -<p class="normal">A slight smile rose upon his visitor's face as he uttered these last -words; then Captain Morris said quietly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is hardly likely to come to pass, I should imagine. The Tower -does not disgorge its victims freely, certainly not by force. As for -the Scotch lords, I am afraid they will only quit the place for their -trials and afterwards for Tower Hill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," remarked Lord Fordingbridge, "the attempt may be made. Of the -men I speak of, two are desperate, and both fought at Culloden and the -battles that took place during the Pretender's march into England. -They will stop at nothing if," with a quick glance at the other, "they -are not themselves first stopped."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me their names, if you please," said Morris, with military -precision, as he produced from his pocket a notebook, "and where they -are to be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Their names are Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto--the former a -kinsman of the Lord Balmarino. Both have lived in exile in France, -serving in the French King's army, one in the <i>Garde du Roi</i> at first, -and then in the Regiment of Picardy. The other, Sholto, has served in -the Mousquetaires."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Their names," said Captain Morris, "are not in the list," and he -turned over the leaves of his notebook carefully as he spoke. "But for -you, my lord, these men might have escaped justice. 'Tis strange -nothing was known of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They crossed from France with Charles Edward. Many names of those who -accompanied him are probably not known. You may rely on my -information. I myself returned but from France some weeks ago. I know -them well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Captain Morris. "Indeed! Your lordship doubtless -came to support his Majesty shortly after so many of his enemies -crossed over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely. But I will be frank. I should tell you I am myself a -converted--perverted, some would say--Jacobite. My father, the late -lord, died one, I do not espouse his political faith."</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Morris bowed gravely; then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you know, therefore, these gentlemen--these Scotch rebels."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know them very well. Shall I furnish you with a description of -their persons?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you please;" and as the captain replied to the question, -he--perhaps unwittingly--pushed the untasted glass of wine farther -away from him into the middle of the large table, where it remained -undrunk.</p> - -<p class="normal">After the appearance of Elphinston and Sholto had been fully given and -noted in the captain's book, he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And where are these men to be found, Lord Fordingbridge?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They shelter themselves in the village of Wandsworth, near London, in -an old house on the Waterside, as the strand there is called. It is -the first reached from the village."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again this was written down, after which Captain Morris rose to take -his departure, but my lord's tale was not yet told. Pointing to the -chair the other had risen from, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg you to be seated a moment longer. There is still another--the -worst rebel of all--of whom I wish to apprise you. A priest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A priest! You speak truly; they are, indeed, his Majesty's worst -enemies. A Jesuit, of course?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course. With him it will be necessary to use the most astute means -in the Government's power to first entrap him, and then to deal with -him afterwards. He should, indeed, be confined in total solitude, -forbidden, above all things else, to hold any communication with other -rebels."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may depend, Lord Fordingbridge, on all being done that is -necessary, short of execution."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Short of execution!" interrupted the other. "Short of execution! Why -do not the scheming Jesuits--the mainspring of all, the cause of the -very rebellion but now crushed out--merit execution as well as those -who routed Cope's forces and hewed down Cumberland's men? <i>Grand -Dieu!</i> I should have thought they would have been the first to taste -the halter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly," replied the captain in passionless tones, and with an -almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, "but at present no Jesuit -priests have been executed. I doubt if any will be. The Government -have other punishments for them--exile to the American colonies, and -so forth. Now, my lord, this priest's name and abode."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is brother to Douglas Sholto, an elder brother by another mother, -yet they have ever gone hand in hand together. Named Archibald, of -from thirty-eight to forty years of age. Crafty, dissimulating, -and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is of course," said Captain Morris. "Now, tell me, if you -please, where this man is to be found. Is he also in hiding at -Wandsworth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied the other--and for the first time the informer seemed -to hesitate in his answer. Yet for a moment only, since again he -proceeded with his story. "He is disguised, of course; passes as a -Scotch merchant having business between London and Paris, and is known -as Mr. Archibald." He paused again, and Captain Morris's clear eyes -rested on him as, interrogatively, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes? And his abode?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is my own house. In Kensington-square."</p> - -<p class="normal">This time the officer started perceptibly, and fixed an even more -penetrating glance upon the other than before. Indeed, so apparent -were both the start and look of surprise on his face that the traitor -before him deemed it necessary to offer some excuse for his strange -revelation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "in my own house. It has been necessary for me to let -him hide there awhile the better to--to entrap--to deliver him to -justice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your lordship is indeed an ardent partisan," coldly replied Captain -Morris; "the King is much to be congratulated on so good a convert."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The King will, I trust, reward my devotion. The Stuarts have never -shown any gratitude for all that has been done for them--by my family -as much as any. Now, Captain Morris," he went on, "I have told you all -that I have to tell. I have simply to ask that in no way shall it be -divulged--as, indeed, I have the promise of his Majesty's Ministers -that nothing shall be divulged--as to the source whence this -information is derived. It is absolutely necessary that I appear not -at all in the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is understood. The Secretary of State for Scotch affairs, from -whom I receive my instructions, knows your lordship's desire, without -a doubt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely. It is with him I have been in communication. Yet, still, I -would make one other request. It is that Father Sholto may not be -arrested in my house. That would be painful to--to--Lady -Fordingbridge, a young and delicate woman. He can easily be taken -outside, since he quits the house fearlessly each day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That too," replied Morris, "I will make a note of for the Secretary's -consideration. I wish you now, my lord, good evening," saying which he -bowed and went toward the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I could possibly prevail on you to refresh yourself," said -Fordingbridge, as he followed him to it, "I should be happy," and he -held out his hand as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the captain, who seemed busy with his sash, or sword belt, did not -perhaps see the extended hand, and muttering that he required no -refreshment, withdrew from the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, when he reached the bar in the passage below he asked -the smiling landlady if she could give him a glass of cordial to keep -out the rawness of the night air, and to fortify him for his ride. -Also he asked, in so polite a manner as to gratify the good woman's -heart, if he might scrawl a line at her table whereat she sat sewing -and surrounded by her bottles and glasses. Buxom landladies rarely -refuse politenesses to persons of Captain Morris's position, -especially when so captivatingly arrayed as he was in his undress -bravery, and as he wrote his message and sealed it she thought how -gallant a gentleman he was.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he looked up and enquired if there was any ostler or idle postboy -about the place who could ride for him with a letter to-morrow morning -to Dunstable, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, paid for his -cordial, the hire of the next morning messenger and his horse's feed, -and so bade her a cheerful good-night.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the yard, while his animal was being brought out, he looked with -some little interest at his lordship's travelling carriage, inspected -the crest upon its panels and the motto, and, tossing the fellow who -brought the nag a shilling, and seeing carefully to his holsters, rode -away into the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upstairs, my lord, standing before the fire, noticed the unemptied -glass of wine, and, remembering that the captain had not chosen to see -his outstretched hand, cursed him for an ill-conditioned Hanoverian -cur. Downstairs, the hostess, being a daughter of Eve, turned over the -captain's letter addressed to "Josias Brandon, Esq., Justice of the -Peace," and would have given her ears, or at least a set of earrings, -to know what its contents were. Had she been able to see them they -probably would have given her food for gossip for a twelvemonth, brief -as they were. They ran:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Viscount Fordingbridge passes through Dunstable to-morrow in his -coach on his road to Cheshire. From the time he does so until he -returns through your town to London, he is to be followed and watched -and never lost sight of. Let me be kept acquainted with all his -movements--by special courier, if needful.--Noel Morris, Captain."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> - -<h5>KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Between Lady Fordingbridge and her father a better state of things -existed than that which prevailed between her and her husband. Indeed, -Kitty, who could not forgive the treachery of the man who was now her -husband, could not, at the same time, bring herself to regard her -father's share in that treachery in as equally black a light. She knew -that it was the actual truth that he had been much in debt to Simeon -Larpent (as he was then), and she had persuaded herself also to -believe that which he constantly assured her was the truth--and, -perhaps, might have been--that Larpent would have proceeded against -him for his debt, in spite of the story Fane had been instructed to -tell to the effect that the other was very willing to continue their -creditor. Moreover, old and feeble as her father was now--broken down -and unable any longer to earn bread to put in their mouths, she did -not forget that, until the events of the last few unhappy months, he -had been an excellent parent to her. For, hardly and roughly, by long -days of weary work, the bread had been earned somehow, the roof kept -over their heads, the clothes found for their backs. Hour after hour, -as she remembered, the worn-out old Irish gentleman--once the -brilliant young military adventurer had stood in the room set apart -for the fencing school, giving his lessons to men young enough to be -his sons; and also she recalled how every night, it seemed to her, he -was more fatigued than before, his back a little more bowed, his -weariness greater. And as--even after the marriage had taken place -into which she had been hoodwinked--she thought of all this, and of -how he had grown older and more feeble in his fight to keep the wolf -from the door, she almost brought herself to forgive him entirely for -the great wrong he had done her.</p> - -<p class="normal">She sat thinking over all this on the morning after her lord's -departure for the country, while opposite to her, toasting his feet in -front of the fire, her father sat. The old man was well dressed now; -he was comfortable and without care--an astute Irish attorney settled -in Paris had tied the viscount up as tightly as possible in the matter -of jointure, settlements and dowry for Kitty, not without remonstrance -from Fordingbridge, which was, however, unavailing; and out of her own -money she had provided for her father. And as her eyes rested on him -she felt that, badly as he had behaved to her, she was still glad to -know that his laborious days were past. At this time Kitty was very -near to forgiving him altogether; her strong, loving heart remembering -so much of all he had done for her in the past, and forgetting almost -all of his wrongdoing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do your letters say to ye, Kitty, this morning?" asked Doyle -Fane, who, after more than forty years' absence from his native land, -still retained some of its rich raciness of tone and accent. "Ye've a -big post there before ye, me child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very little of any importance," she replied. "The night coach through -St. Albans brings me a letter from his lordship trusting I shall be -happy during his enforced absence. Faugh! Also there is one by the -French packet from Kathleen Muskerry. Her uncle, the priest at Marly, -is removed to St. Roch. Lady Belrose, whose acquaintance I made a -month ago at Leicester House, writes desiring me to accompany her to -the masquerade at Vauxhall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good, me child, good. And what for not? 'Twill do ye good to see some -life, to----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To see some life!" she repeated, "see some life! In the midst of -death all around us!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Death!" the old man repeated. "Death! Faith, I did not know it. What -death is there around us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father!" she exclaimed, looking at him, "is there not death all -around--threatening those whom we love--whom we loved once? Do you not -know that London is at the present moment full of followers of the -unhappy prince, who, if they are caught, must be doomed? Do you not -know that the Tower, Newgate, the New Gaol over the water in -Southwark, is crowded with such men, all of whom have soon to stand -their trial for high treason--men of whom we have known many, some of -whom were your pupils? Father, this is no time for masquerades."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the old man gazed at her with solemn eyes, as though -endeavouring to penetrate her mind, to discover if behind her words -there lay any hidden meaning; then he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are there any--any whom--we know particularly well among these -threatened men? You may tell me, Kitty. You may trust me--now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is not Father Sholto in jeopardy?" she asked, while her eyes also -rested on him much as his had dwelt on her. Perhaps she, too, was -wondering if he guessed to whom, more than all others, her remarks -applied. "If he were discovered would he not share the gaol, if not -the scaffold? He told us yesterday that there was a newly-made law -against any Jesuit priests from France who should be found in -England."<a name="div4Ref_B" href="#div4_B"><sup>[Note B]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"Are there any--any others?" he almost whispered. But still her clear -blue eyes regarded him, and she spoke no word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," he said a moment after. "Perhaps it may be, even after -so many years, that I do not deserve your confidence. Yet, Kitty, I -was nigh as much deceived in some things as you were. Child," he said, -leaning across the table as he spoke, "I swear to you I thought that -man who came to us was, in truth, the priest, the <i>curé</i> of Moret. How -could I know he was a paid creature of Larpent's, a vile cheat, -instead of the man who, as I supposed, had tied the hands of Bertie -El----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop," said his daughter, "stop! Don't mention that again. Let it be -done with, forgotten; dead and buried. It is past! Over! I--I--am Lord -Fordingbridge's wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet I must ask. I must know. Nay, I do know. Fordingbridge hinted as -much to me ere he set out. Kitty," and now his voice sank to a whisper -that none but she could have heard, even though in the room, "is he in -London?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she whispered also, softly as a woman's whisper ever is. "Yes. -He is here. Oh, father! for the love of God, betray us--him--no more. -For if you do, it will not end this time with broken hearts, but with -death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Betray you," he said, "betray you again! Why will you not believe me -once more? See, Kitty, see here," and as he spoke he rose from his -chair and stood before her. "I swear to you that I am true in -spite--in spite of what I once did, partly in ignorance--unwittingly. -I myself loved Elphinston and always despised Larpent. And I -did--honestly, I did--believe that he had married Mademoiselle -Baufremont."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," she said, "well, he had not. Enough of that. And, since -you ask me to trust you once again as I trusted you before, I answer -you--remember his life, as well as Douglas Sholto's, are in your -hands--he is in London. Both are here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis madness," he murmured, "madness. For, Kitty, as sure as he is -here he will be betrayed. Fordingbridge will denounce him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" she replied, almost wringing her hands, "alas! I fear as much -myself. Yet Father Sholto says not--that it is impossible. For, he -declares, should harm come to either of them through him, he will -cause him also to be denounced. He knows some secret as to -Fordingbridge's doings that, he says, would bring him to the block for -a surety, which secret, if he turns traitor, he will use most -remorselessly. And, do what he may, at least he is harmless now. He -will be in Cheshire for a month. By that time I pray that both the -others may be beyond the seas."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you seen him?" he asked, still in a low voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">He knew that in London at this time walls almost had ears, -and that every footman or waiting-maid might be a spy of the -Government--especially in a house but recently re-opened after many -years of disuse, and, consequently, possessing a staff of servants new -to their employers and taking neither interest nor sympathy in their -affairs. Also he knew that, in the garb of servants, many a Government -agent was carefully watching every action of his or her temporary -employers. London especially had but recently recovered from too great -a fright to cease as yet to fear for its safety, and saw a bugbear in -many harmless strangers now in its midst; the house of a nobleman -returned recently from France--the birthplace of the late -invasion--and known to be a Catholic, would, therefore, be a -particularly likely object to be subjected to supervision, quiet yet -effectual.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she replied; "no, I have not seen him. God forbid I should. And -if I did, the only words I could, I think, find heart to utter would -be to beseech him to fly at once. Oh! father, father, I dread some -awful calamity, though I know not in what form or shape it may come."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke, a tap was heard at the door, and, a second afterwards, -Father Sholto entered the room, while so much had her ladyship's fears -and tremors overcome her and her father that both exclaimed at once, -in the same words, "Is all well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In so far as I know," he replied, after having exchanged morning -greetings with them. "As well as all will ever be. Why do you ask? -Have you reason to dread aught?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," Kitty replied. "Still, I know not why, I am strangely -uneasy, strangely nervous to-day. Some feeling of impending ills seems -to hang over me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Sholto, "if omens are to be supposed to have any power, no -such feeling should trouble you to-day. Kitty, I bear good news----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good news!" she exclaimed. "From----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From an acquaintance of mine--one who is in the office of the Scotch -Secretary of State. Nay," he went on, seeing the look of -disappointment on her face, and knowing she had expected matter of a -different kind, "'tis worth hearing. Among the names of those now in -London for whom diligent search is being made--the names of those who, -if found, are doomed--three do not appear--three in whom we are -concerned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!" exclaimed Lady Fordingbridge and her father together. -"They are----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our two friends across the river and--and--myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore you may escape at once?" she asked. "All of you? There is -nothing to keep you here in England--the Cause is broken, it can never -be regained now--you can all depart in peace?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "we can." But letting his eye fall on Fane, he took -her a little apart and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kitty, we have the chance of getting across the water; at least, we -are safe at present. I, you know, can go at any moment; there is -nothing to detain me. The glorious work, the accomplishment of which I -crossed over to see, will never be done now--I may as well go. -But--shall the others go too? It rests with you to say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With me," she said, looking up at him; "with me? Why, how should I -prevent them going? Oh Archibald, if I could see them I would beg them -on my knees to go while there is yet time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One will not leave England without the other; Douglas would never go -without Bertie. And, Kitty, Elphinston will not go yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet! Why not? What does he tarry for? Is it to take vengeance on -my husband, to--to----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To see you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To see me," she said, clasping her hands convulsively together, while -from her soft blue eyes there shone so bright a light that Father -Sholto knew how deeply the love still dwelt in her heart for the poor -wanderer and outcast; "to see me. Oh! say, does he forgive--has he -sent me one word of pardon, of pity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, child, he forgives, if he has aught to forgive. Those are his -words. Yet, he bids me say, he must see you, speak with you; -then--then he will go away for ever. Now," Sholto went on, "'tis for -you to decide. If you see him, there is naught to prevent his going; -only--I must tell you, it is my duty as a priest, though you need but -little caution from me--remember this man loves you now as much as he -ever loved you, and--you are another man's wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fane had left the room when the others drew apart--perhaps he -guessed that Sholto had some message for his daughter--so that now -they could speak at ease. For a moment Lady Fordingbridge seemed lost -in thought--as though struggling between conflicting desires, the one -to see again the man she loved, the other to know that he was safe, a -third to remember that, however hateful to her Lord Fordingbridge was, -she was still his wife. Then suddenly she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are right. 'Tis best we should not meet. Yet--yet--you say he -will not quit England without our doing so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear not. And time is precious. Remember, though the names are not -in the list, they may be at any moment. Or he, or both of them, may be -denounced. Many of Cumberland's and Cope's regiments are back in -London; they may be recognised by some against whom they fought, and, -if that were the case, their chance of existence would be small. -Kitty, if you are strong enough, as you should be, 'tis almost best -that you should see him. Then he can go in peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am strong enough," she replied. "Have no fear of me; I have none of -myself. Yet, how can it be? He cannot come here--I cannot go to him. -But oh! to hear from his own lips that he forgave me, that he would -think of me sometimes without bitterness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What answer shall I give him, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does he await one?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Eagerly. If you bade him meet you in George's Throne-room he would -contrive to be there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When do you see him again?" she asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-night, after dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. To-night you shall bear him a message from me. Now, leave -me a little while. At dinner we will meet again. Then, then, I will -ask you to carry a note to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">When she was alone she went to the standish and, taking pens and -paper, wrote two notes. The first was easily despatched; it simply -told Lady Belrose she would accompany her and her party to Vauxhall on -the following night. The next took longer, caused her much -deliberation.</p> - -<p class="normal">She pined to see the man whom in her own heart she accused herself of -having deceived; yet she dreaded the hour when she should stand face -to face with him. Alas! how could she look into his eyes--eyes that -she feared would look back but sternly upon her--and plead for -forgiveness, remembering that, had she but trusted and believed in -him, they who now met as strangers would by this time have been man -and wife a twelvemonth. Yet, it was not only to gratify her own desire -to once more touch his hand and hear his voice, even though that voice -should reproach her, that she desired to see him. It was also to save -him, since he would leave the country, he had said, after they had -once met.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, at last, she decided it should be so. She would see him once, -would take his pardon from his own lips--Sholto had said that he -forgave her--and then she would bid him go and consult nothing but his -own safety and that of his true and tried friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">She took the pen in her hand again and drew the paper towards her, -but, at first, she knew not what to say. In the previous letter she -had sent him the words and ideas had come easily enough, for then she -was writing a straightforward narrative with, in it, a sad plea for -forgiveness. But now it was different. She was making an assignation -with a man she had once loved--once!--she was deceiving her husband.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" she said, as this thought rose to her mind. "If 'tis deception -let it be so. Out of his deceit to me is borne mine to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon once more she pondered a moment on what she should say, and -then wrote:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Fordingbridge will be at the masquerade at Vauxhall to-morrow -night. May she hope she will hear none but gentle words there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">That was all.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The rejoicings into which London broke out when, at last, the Scottish -rebellion was decisively crushed caused Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens -to be, perhaps, more frequented in the warm spring and summer of 1746 -than they had ever been previously. Indeed, after the fright which had -fallen upon the capital when the news came that the Highland troops -were at Derby and within four days' march of London, it was not very -astonishing that the inhabitants should, on the removal of that -terror, give themselves up to wholesale amusement. Six months before, -imminent ruin stared them in the face; the Bank of England, by that -time regarded as being almost as stable an institution as it is now -considered, had only escaped closing its doors by the oft-quoted -artifice of paying the demands made on it in sixpences. Regiments -engaged in foreign campaigns--Ligonier's Horse and Hawley's and Rich's -Dragoons--had been hurried home from Williamstadt; Admiral Vernon and -Commodores Boscawen and Smith were each at sea with a squadron looking -for ships carrying the invaders; while fifty merchantmen, styled -"armed cruisers," were patrolling the Channels round our shores. Also, -as an outcome of the panic, the inhabitants of London had purchased -for the army about to take the field against the Pretender, 12,000 -pairs of breeches and the same number of pairs of woollen gloves, -12,000 shirts, 10,000 woollen caps and pairs of stockings, and 9,000 -pairs of woollen spatterdashes; while, not to be outdone by the other -citizens, the managers of the then existing London theatres offered to -form the members of their various companies into volunteers attached -to the City regiment.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, ere the springtime had come, the invasion was over, the danger -past. The young Duke of Cumberland, fresh from his triumphs in -Flanders, had not only destroyed the rebel army, but had taken -terrible and bloody vengeance upon all who had opposed him.<a name="div4Ref_C" href="#div4_C"><sup>[Note C]</sup></a> Therefore -London--indeed, all England--slept again in safety at night, and with -the arrival of summer had plunged with greater fervour than ever into -all its usual enjoyments. Amongst the enjoyments of the former none -were more popular than those of Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens, the -latter being more generally known and spoken of at that period as the -Spring Gardens. Here, on the warm evenings which May brought with it, -until the fashionable world departed for its country seats, or for -Bath, Epsom, or Tunbridge, went on one continual round of pleasures -and festivities--one night a masquerade, another a concert, vocal and -instrumental, where, among others, the mysterious Tenducci--whose sex -was always matter of discussion--sang and warbled, sometimes in a -man's voice, sometimes in a woman's; illuminations took place every -evening, and, as they died out and the company departed, the -nightingales might be heard singing in the neighbouring fields and -groves.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was on one of these warm May nights that the wherry which brought -Lady Belrose's party from Pimlico Fields to the Spring Gardens arrived -at the latter place, while, as the boat touched the shore, from the -gardens might already be heard the orchestra playing. In the wherry -sat, of course, Lady Belrose herself, a still young and still -good-looking woman, who, being a widow, thought herself entitled to -always have in attendance upon her some beau or other, and who, -to-night, had brought two, one a young lad from Oxford, the other -almost as young a man, Sir Charles Ames. By her side sat Lady -Fordingbridge, whose plain evening frock contrasted somewhat strongly -with that of her friend, who was arrayed in a gorgeous brocade silk, -while one of her cavaliers carried over his arm a green velvet mantle -laced with gold, in case the evening turned cold and she should have -occasion for it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I protest," said her ladyship, as stepping ashore she put on her -mask, in which she was copied by the others--"I protest the very sound -of the fiddles squeaking makes me long for a dance. Mr. Fane," she -said, turning to that gentleman, who formed the last member of the -party, "am I to have you for a partner to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Fane bowed and responded politely that he only trusted his old age and -stiff joints would not prevent him from making himself acceptable, on -at least one occasion, to her ladyship; while Sir Charles Ames, -turning to Kitty, desired to know if she would so far favour him as to -give him a dance.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Lady Belrose, who had already gathered from her friend that she -only made one of the party because of a serious and grave interview -which she anticipated having with a gentleman whom she might meet at -the <i>fête</i>, here interposed and, in a few well-chosen words, gave the -baronet to understand that to dance was not Lady Fordingbridge's -desire that evening. "She is not well," she said, "and will simply be -an onlooker. Meanwhile, doubtless I can find you a sufficiency of -partners among other friends." To this the young man protested that -there was no need for Lady Belrose to endeavour to find him partners -among her friends, since, if she would but condescend to be his -partner, he could not possibly desire any other, and so, with these -interchanges of politeness, they entered the gardens.</p> - -<p class="normal">On this particular night at Vauxhall--the opening masquerade of the -season--the fashionable world, as well as those who, though not in -that world themselves, loved to gaze on the happier beings who were of -it, assembled in large numbers and in a variety of costumes. -Scaramouches in their black dresses, toques and masks, with rush -lances in their hands, mingled with dancing girls clad in the Turkish -costumes still known in these days as "Roxanas," in memory of the -infamous woman who had first worn this garb; shepherdesses walked -arm-in-arm with men dressed as grave and reverend clergymen; assumed -victims of the Inquisition, invested in the San Benito, pirouetted and -twirled with brazen-faced and under-clad Iphigenias and Phrynes--for -the world was none too modest in those days!--mock soldiers, knights -and satyrs, harlequins, and men in wizard's garments danced and drank, -laughed and shouted with milkmaids, nuns, and Joans of Arc. And to -testify, perhaps, the fact that they had not forgotten the dangers -through which the country had recently passed, and also, perhaps, to -hurl one last taunt at their crushed and broken foes, many of the -maskers had arrayed themselves in the garbs of their late enemies--for -some strutted round and round the orchestra pavilion and banqueting -room dressed as Highlanders or French officers, others as miserable -Scotch peasants having in their hands flails and reaping hooks. -Others, again, had even attempted to portray the character of the -unhappy Charles Edward, now in hiding in the Scotch wilds, and, as -they danced and sang or drank their glasses of ale and ate their -twopenny slices of hung-beef, and endeavoured even by their -conversation to ape what they imagined to be the Scotch dialect. At -the same time, outside all this seething, painted, and bedizened crowd -were many others of the better classes, such as those who formed Lady -Belrose's party, or visitors of a similar degree, who contented -themselves by concealing their identity with masks, vizards, and -dominos, or with hoods and laces.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a somewhat retired spot beneath where stood a noble statue of -Handel, now nearing his last days, executed by Roubiliac, and at the -back of which were a small wooded green and bosquet in which were many -arbours, Lady Belrose and her friends sat down to watch the -kaleidoscopic crowd. Here, Sir Charles Ames, summoning a waiter, bade -him bring refreshments for the party--viz., some iced fruits and a -flask of champagne--and they being partaken of, he invited her -ladyship to honour him by becoming his partner in a <i>quadrille de -contredanse</i>, a new style of dancing introduced into the French -ballets a year or so before, and but just come over to London. This -the sprightly lady accepted at once, having already perfected herself -in the new divertissement under Duharnel's tuition; but, on her other -cavalier desiring also the honour of Lady Fordingbridge's hand, Kitty -refused, on the ground that she knew not the dance, and neither was -she very well.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I' faith, Kate," said Lady Belrose, as she shook her sack over her -great balloon-shaped hoop and fastened her mask more tightly under her -hood, "yet have you lost but little to-night. The quadrille is well -enough in our own houses or on our country lawns; here, I protest, the -noise, the dust, and the stench of the oil lamps, to say nothing of -the unknown and, doubtless, unclean creatures with whom we rub -shoulders and touch hands, do not recommend it overmuch. However, lead -me to it, Sir Charles, since you will have it so," and in another -moment she, with her partner and the others who formed the sets, were -bowing and curtseying to each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile Mr. Wynn, Lady Belrose's second string, having begged that -he might be allowed to find a partner and himself join in a set, since -Lady Fordingbridge was so obdurate (he, too, had been learning the new -dance from Monsieur Duharnel), took himself off, so that Kitty and her -father were left alone together. And now it was that she, after -scanning each male figure that was "more than common tall," began to -tremble a little in her limbs and to feel as though she were about to -faint. For in that portion of the crowd which was not dancing and -which still followed its leaders round and round the orchestra -pavilion, thereby illustrating the words of Bloomfield, a poet of the -period, who wrote:</p> - -<div style="margin-left:15%"> -<p>First we traced the gay circle all round,<br> -Ay--and then we went round it again--</p> -</div> - -<p class="continue">she saw two forms that, she doubted not, were those for whom she -looked--partly in eagerness, partly with nervousness.</p> - -<p class="normal">These maskers did not walk side by side, but one behind the other, -and, possibly, to ordinary onlookers would not have appeared to have -any connection with each other. Yet Kitty knew very well that, -inseparable in almost all else, they were now equally so. The first, -who was the tallest, was clad in a costume, perhaps unique that night -in the Spring Gardens, perhaps almost unique among the many costumes -that have ever been assumed since first masquerades were invented. It -was that of the headsman. Arrayed in the garb of that dismal -functionary, a rusty black velvet suit, with the breeches and black -woollen stockings to match, the masker might yet have failed to inform -those who saw him of the character he wished to portray, had it not -been for at least one other accessory. On his back, strapped across -it, he carried the long, narrow-bladed axe used for decapitation, its -handle fringed and tasselled with leathern thongs. Yet there were -other tokens also of the part he represented. In a girdle round his -waistcoat he bore a formidable knife having a blade a foot long and an -inch and a half deep--the knife with which the doomsman finished his -ghastly task if the axe failed to do its duty, as had too often -happened. His mask, too, was not that of the ordinary reveller at such -places as this, not a mask made ostensibly to conceal the features, -yet, as often as not, revealing them almost as clearly as though it -had not been assumed; instead, it was long and full, covering not only -the eyes and the bridge of the nose, but also the whole of the upper -part of the face, and leaving only visible the lower jaw and the two -ends of a thick brown moustache that hung below it. Alone by that -moustache would Kitty have known the wearer, if by no other sign. It -had been pressed too often against her own lips for her to forget it! -Yet, also, would she have known him without it. His companion, the man -who followed after him, was not so conspicuous by his appearance. He, -indeed, wrapped in a long brown woollen cloak which descended to his -shoes and must have been more than warm on such an evening as this, -with at his side a Scotch claymore, or broadsword, and on his head a -Scotch bonnet--the mask, of course, being worn--passed among the crowd -as an excellent representative of their now despised and fallen -enemies. Yet, had that crowd known that amongst them stalked in -reality one whose prowess had been terribly conspicuous when exhibited -against their own soldiers, they might not have gazed as approvingly -as they now did on Douglas Sholto.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Kitty regarded these two figures--still trembling and feeling as -though she were about to faint--she saw the eyes of the former one fix -themselves upon her, and observed him hesitate for a moment ere -continuing his course, then, in an instant, he went on again in the -stream that continued to revolve round the orchestra pavilion. And she -knew that a few moments would bring him again before her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father," she said, nerving herself to that interview which she so -ardently desired, yet which, womanlike, she almost feared now, "the -green behind looks cool and inviting, especially now that the sun is -gone and the lamps are lit. I will stroll down there awhile and take -the air. Meanwhile, rest you here--there is some more champagne in the -flask--and keep these seats until the others come back. The -<i>contredanse</i> will be finished just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind no gallant treats ye rudely, child. The crowd is none too -orderly as regards some of its members. Ladies alone, and without a -cavalier, may be roughly accosted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," she said, "I can protect myself. I shall be back ere -Lady Belrose takes part in the next dance," saying which she turned -and went down the walk that led between the grassy lawn and the -arbours, in each of which now twinkled the many-coloured oil lamps. -And, as she so turned, that portion of the maskers in which was the -man dressed as the headsman passed by the chair she had just vacated, -and she knew that he must have seen her rise and move away.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few moments later she was aware that such was the case. A heavy -tread sounded behind her--she had now advanced considerably down the -path and had almost reached a rustic copse, in which were two or three -small arbours--another instant, and the voice she longed yet feared to -hear, the voice that she thought trembled a little as it spoke, -addressed her:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is Lady Fordingbridge not afraid to separate herself from her party -thus?" she heard Bertie Elphinston say--surely his voice quivered as -he spoke. "Or does pity prompt her to do so; pity for another?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Fordingbridge," she replied, knowing that her own voice was not -well under control, "has no fear of anyone, unless it be of those -whom, all unwittingly, she has injured." Then, scarcely knowing what -she said, or whether her words were intelligible, and feeling at a -loss what else to say, she gazed up at him and exclaimed, "You come to -these festivities in a strange garb, sir. Surely the executioner's is -scarcely a suitable one for a night of rejoicing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet suitable to him who wears it. Perhaps 'tis best that I who may -apprehend----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Mr. Elphinston!" she exclaimed suddenly, interrupting him, "it -was not to hear such words as these that I came here to-night. You -know why I have sought this meeting; have you nought to say to me but -this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he replied, "yes. But let us not stand here upon the path -exposed to the gaze of all the crowd. Come, let us enter this arbour. -We shall be unobserved there."</p> - -<p class="normal">She followed him into the one by which they were standing, and--for -she felt her limbs were trembling beneath her--sank on to a rustic -bench. And he, standing above her, went on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The letter that you sent to me asked that I should pity and forgive -you. Kate, we meet again, perhaps for the last time on earth; let me -say at once, there is nothing for me to forgive. If fault there was, -then it was mine. Let mine, too, be the blame. I should have told you -that Elphinston of Glenbervy was about to marry Mademoiselle -Baufremont. Yet, he had sworn me to silence, had bidden me, upon our -distant kinsmanship, to hold my peace, had sought my assistance to -enable him to wed the woman whom he loved. How could I disclose his -secret even to you? How could I foresee that a scheming devil would -turn so small a thing to so great an account?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," she said, gazing up at him and noticing--for both had -instinctively unmasked at the same time--how worn his face was, how, -alas! in his brown hair there ran grey threads though he was still so -young; "but why, to all those letters I sent, was no answer -vouchsafed? I thought from one or from the other some reply must -surely come. Have you forgotten how, for many years now, we -four--Douglas and Archibald, you and I--had all been as brothers and -sister--until--until," she broke off, and then continued: "how we had -vowed that between us all there should be a link and bond of -friendship that should be incessable?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have forgotten nothing," he replied, "nothing. No word that was -ever spoken between us, no vow, nor promise ever made."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the soft blue eyes were turned to him, imploringly it seemed; -begging by their glance that he should spare her. And, ceasing to -speak of his remembrance of the past, he continued: "Circumstances, -strange though they were, prevented any one of us from receiving your -letters--or from answering them in time. I was lying ill of Roman -fever at the English College; Archibald Sholto was in Tuscany in the -train of Charles Edward, Cardinal Aquaviva having provided their -passports; Douglas was with De Roquefeuille, and received your letter -only on his return to Paris, where it had been sent back to him. Kate, -in that stirring time, when the prince was passing from Rome to -Picardy, was it strange no answer should come?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," she replied. "No," and as she spoke she clasped both of her -hands in her lap, and bent her head to hide her tears. Then she -muttered, yet not so low but that he could hear her: "Had I but -waited! but trusted!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would have been best," he said very gently. And as he spoke, as -though in mockery of their sad hearts, many of the maskers went by -laughing and jesting, and the quadrille being finished the band was -playing the merry old tune of "The Bird that danced the Rigadoon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear the air?" she said, looking up suddenly again. "You hear? -Oh! my heart will break."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he answered, "I hear."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">That song in the old days in the Rue Trousse-Vache had been the air -which Bertie Elphinston had whistled many a time to Kate to let her -know that he was about to enter the "<i>salle d'escrime</i>," or to make -her look out of the window and see the flowers he had brought her from -his mother's garden in the suburbs. Also, on a Sunday morning early, -he had often stood beneath the window of her room and had piped the -"Rigadoon" to remind her that it was time for them to be away for -their day's outing. For in those happy times--alas! but a year -ago--these two fond, happy lovers had spent every Sabbath together and -alone. Arm in arm the whole day; or, when the soft summer nights fell -over the Bois de Boulogne, or the woods of St. Germain or the Forest -of Fontainebleau, his arm round her waist and her soft fair head upon -his shoulder, they had wandered together, taking a light meal here and -there at any roadside <i>auberge</i> they happened on, and then both going -back to supper, at her father's little house, where, as they had done -all day, they talked of the future that was before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the future had come and they were parted for ever! No wonder -that the old French song which had found its way to England grated -harshly on their ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God, 'tis finished," he said, as the orchestra struck up a -dance tune next. "For us, to our hearts, it awakens memories best left -to slumber for ever." Then sitting down by her side on the rustic -bench, he continued: "Kate, you wrote in your letter to me," and he -touched his breast involuntarily as he spoke, so that she knew he bore -it about him, "that there was private treachery to be feared. Is it to -be feared from him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" she whispered, "I almost dread 'tis so. He is not satisfied -yet; he----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He should be! He has all I wanted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To injure you," she continued, "would be, as he knows, the best way -to strike at me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To strike at you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, to repay me for my scorn and contempt--my hate of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hate him!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"From the depths of my heart. How can it be otherwise? His -treachery--when I learnt it--made me despise him; his conduct since -has turned my contempt to hatred. Oh," she exclaimed, "it is awful, -terrible for a woman to hate her husband! Yet what cause have I to do -aught else? When he speaks--though I have long since ceased to reply -to anything he says--his words are nothing but sneers and scorn; -sometimes of you, sometimes of me. And he gloats over having separated -us, of having taken your place, while at the same time he is so bitter -against me that, if he dared, I believe he would kill me. Moreover, he -fears your vengeance. That is another reason why, if he could betray -you to the Government, he would."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis by betrayal alone that we can be injured," Bertie said, -thoughtfully. "None of our names are known, nor in the proscribed -list. Yet how can he do it? He it was who planned the attack upon the -Fubbs<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a> to be made when the -Elector crossed from Holland; he who -disseminated the tracts, nay, had them printed, counselling his taking -off. He was worse than any--no honest Jacobite ever stooped to -assassination!--and many of us know it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be sure," she replied, "that what he could do would be done in -secret; Bert--Mr. Elphinston, who is that man who has passed the -arbour twice or more, and looks always so fixedly at you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," he replied, "yet he has been ever near Douglas and -me--he and another man--since we entered the gardens. Perhaps a -Government spy. Well, he can know nought of me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man she had mentioned was a tall, stoutly-built individual, -plainly enough clad in an old rusty black suit of broadcloth, patched -black stockings and thick-soled shoes with rusty iron buckles upon -them, and bore at his side a stout hanger. He might be a spy, it was -true, but he might also have been anything else, a low follower of the -worst creatures who infested the gardens, a gambling-hell tout, or a -bagnio pimp. Yet his glance from under his vizard was keen and -penetrating as it was fixed on them, but especially on Elphinston, -each time he passed the summer house wherein they sat.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now their conversation, which to both seemed all too short and to -have left so much unsaid, was interrupted by the advent of Douglas -Sholto, who came swiftly down the shell-strewn path, and, seeing them -in the arbour, paused and entered at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kitty," he said, grasping her hand, "this is not the greeting I had -intended to give you, though it's good to look upon your bonnie face -again. But, Bertie, listen. We are watched, followed, perhaps known; -indeed, I am sure of it. One of those fellows who have kept near to -us, and whom we saw at Wandsworth as we set forth--I see the other -down the path--spoke but now to three soldiers of the Coldstreams. -Perhaps 'twas to identify us; you remember the First Battalion at -Culloden," he added grimly; "perhaps to call on them for help. -Bertie, we must be away at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis as I suspected," said Lady Fordingbridge, now pale as ashes and -trembling from head to foot. "My words have too soon come true. How, -how has he done it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, Kate," said Bertie Elphinston, "we must, indeed, hasten if -this is true. Yet first let me take you to your father and friends. -Then," with a firm set look on his face, he said, "Douglas and I must -see our way through this, if 'tis as he suspects. Come, Kate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," she said, imploringly. "Wait not to think of me. Begone -while there is yet time. Lose no moment. Farewell, farewell. We may -meet again yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">But ere another word could be said a fresh interruption occurred. From -either end of the path that ran between the arbour and the lawn, both -spies--for such they soon proclaimed themselves--advanced to where the -others were; the first, the one of whom Kate had spoken, coming back -from the end by the bosquet, the other from the platform where the -orchestra and dancing were. And in the deepening twilight, for it was -now almost dark, the three soldiers of the Coldstreams came too, -followed by two others belonging to the "Old Buffs," a regiment also -just brought back to London after Falkirk and Culloden. And behind -these followed a small knot of visitors to the gardens who had gleaned -that there was something unusual taking place, or about to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your names," said the first man, who had kept watch over the -movements of Elphinston, as he came close to the two comrades, while -his own companion and the soldiers also drew very near, "are, if I -mistake riot, Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto. Is that the case?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My friend," said the former, "I would bid you have a care how you ask -persons unknown to you, and to whom you are unknown, what their names -are. It is a somewhat perilous proceeding to take liberties with -strangers thus."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not persons unknown to me. I can give a full description of -your actions during the last year, which would cause you to be torn -limb from limb by the people in this garden. As it is, I require you -to go with us to the nearest magistrate, where I shall swear an -information against you, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By what process," asked Douglas Sholto, "do you propose to carry out -your requirements? By your own efforts, perhaps?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By our own efforts, aided by those of five soldiers here, of several -others now in the Spring Gardens, and by the general company herein -assembled, if necessary. But come, sirs, we trifle time away. Will you -come, or won't you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer Douglas Sholto dealt the man such a blow with his fist that -he fell back shrieking that his jaw was broken; while his comrade, -calling on the soldiers for aid in the name of the King against rebels -who had fought at Culloden, hurled himself on Elphinston, with his -sword drawn and in his hand. But the latter, drawing from his back the -long lean-bladed axe, presented so formidable an appearance, that the -other shrank back appalled, though he called on the soldiers still for -assistance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beware," said Elphinston, as he ranged himself by the side of his -friend, "beware! We are not men to be played with, and, as sure as -there's a heaven above, if any of you come within swing of my arm, -I'll lop your heads off!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The hound fought at Culloden; I saw him there," said one of the -Coldstreams. "By heavens, I'll attempt it on him if he had fifty -axes," and so saying he sprang full at the young Scotchman. As he -came, the latter might have cleft his head open from scalp to chin, -but he was a soldier himself; and the other had not drawn the short -sword he wore at his side ere he flew at him. Therefore, he only -seized him by the throat as he would have seized a mad bull-dog that -attacked him, and in a minute had hurled the fellow back among the -others. But now all the soldiers as well as the two police agents had -had time to draw their weapons, and seven gleaming blades were -presented at the breasts of the two young men when a timely assistance -arrived.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Charles Ames burst through the crowd on the outskirts of the -antagonists, his own bright court rapier flashing in the air, and -following him came Mr. Wynn and Doyle Fane, also with their weapons -drawn.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For shame! For shame!" said Sir Charles. "Five great hulking soldiers -and two others against two men. Put up your weapons, or we'll make -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Put up your own," said one of the Old Buffs; "they are rebels. Curse -them! We have met before," and as he spoke he lunged full at the -breast of Elphinston.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoot!" said Fane, the spirit of the old swordsman, the old Irishman, -aroused at this, "if it's for tilting, my boys, come along. It's a -pretty dance I'll teach ye. There, now, look to that." And with the -easiest twist of his wrist he parried the soldier's thrust at -Elphinston, with another he had slit the sleeve of the man's uniform -to the elbow, while a thin line of blood ran quickly out from his arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My word," he continued, "I've always said the worst hands in the -world with a sword were soldiers--of these present days. Your mother's -broom handles would suit ye better," whereon he turned his point -towards another.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile Sir Charles Ames had placed himself by Bertie and Douglas, -and had already exchanged several passes with the others, when, -stepping back a moment into the arbour, he saw to his intense -astonishment the figure of Kitty, she being in a swoon, and -consequently unconscious.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Fordingbridge," he murmured, "Lady Fordingbridge. So, so! A -little assignation with our rebel friends. Humph! I'd scarce have -thought it of her. However, 'tis no affair of mine, and as she's Molly -Belrose's friend, why, I must be the same to her friends." Whereon he -again took his place alongside the two Jacobites and assisted at -keeping the others at bay.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the crowd still augmented in their neighbourhood, and while the -soldiers--all of whom had of late fought in Flanders as well as -Scotland, and were as fierce as their chief, Cumberland--were pressing -the others hardly, some of the livelier masqueraders began to feel -disposed to assist one side or another. Therefore, 'twas almost a riot -that now prevailed in the Spring Gardens; and as among the company -there were numerous other Jacobites, who, although they had probably -not been out with Charles Stuart, were very keen in their sympathies -with his cause, they took the opportunity of joining the fracas on -their own account and of breaking the heads of several Hanoverian -supporters. And also, gathering that the scene arose from the -attempted apprehension of two of their own leaning, they gradually -directed their way towards the arbour where the affray had -begun--summarily knocking down or tripping up all who opposed them, so -that the next morning many shopboys, city clerks, and respectable city -puts themselves appeared at their places of business with broken -crowns, bruised faces, and black eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">At present nothing serious had occurred beyond a few surface wounds -given on either side; the soldiers and police agents were no match for -the five skilful swordsmen to whom they were opposed, and the latter -refrained from shedding the blood of men beneath them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Sir Charles Ames to Mr. Wynn, while he wiped his face with -his lace-embroidered handkerchief, "if the canaille do not desist soon -I must pink one for the sake of my gentility. Wynn, where is Lady -Belrose during this pleasing interlude?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Safe in the supper room," replied the young beau. "She is very well. -I saw to that. Ames, who are these stalwart Highlanders whose cause we -espouse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The devil himself only knows," replied the worldly exquisite. "Ha! -would you?" to one of the Coldstreams as he tried a pass at him. "Go -home, my man, go home. I know your colonel; you shall be whipped for -this. Yet," he whispered to his friend, "I do think these knocks are -<i>pour les beaux yeux de madame</i>. What's that shout?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The constables, I imagine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The more the merrier! Ha! Wynn, we are borne along the path. The -deuce take it, we have lost the shelter of the arbour!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For Heaven's sake," whispered Elphinston to the baronet, "as I see -you are a gentleman, go back and look to Lady Fordingbridge. I cannot -see her after to-night--sir, on your honour, tell her 'All is well.' -She will understand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my honour, I will," the baronet replied. "London will be too hot -for you--perhaps for me, too. I do fear I'm a little of a Stuart -myself; but listen, my aunt, Lady Ames, lives at Kensington, by the -Gravel Pits; direct a letter to--to the fair one, under cover to my -respected relative, and she shall get it. Oh, no thanks, I beg; I have -my own <i>affaires de cœur</i>. I know, I know----"</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the <i>mêlée</i> became more general, and gradually the partisans -of both sides were borne asunder, two only keeping together, Bertie -and Douglas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is Fane?" whispered the former.</p> - -<p class="normal">"With Kate. I saw him in the bower with her. Heaven grant----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was interrupted by a man who at this moment ranged himself -alongside them both, and who muttered, "Follow me, through the copse -here. There is an exit by which you can escape from the gardens. Back -yourselves to the copse as easily as you can, then watch my -movements."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To leave her thus is impossible!" exclaimed Elphinston. "I cannot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush, nonsense!" replied Sholto, "her father is with her and our -dandy friends by now. Come, come, we can do better for her and all of -us by escaping than by being taken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But Fane; they will arrest him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If they do he has his answer. He was protecting his daughter. And her -position will assure his. Come, Bertie, come. Once outside, we can -seek new lodgings in another part of the town; put on new disguises. -Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">All the time this colloquy had taken place they had still been -struggling with others, though by now the affray had lost the -sanguinary character it once threatened to possess. The soldiers and -the agents were separated from them by a mass of people, among whom -were many of their sympathisers; but none were using deadly weapons, -rather preferring buffeting and hustling than aught else. So that, as -the tall man entered another summer house and, dragging Sholto and -Elphinston after him, shut a door which guarded its entrance, the -thing was done so quickly that the two originals of the disturbance -had disappeared in the darkness ere they were missed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This," said the man, "is a private entrance and exit, reserved for -some very high and mighty personages whom I need not mention. They are -good patrons of ours--I am the proprietor's, Mr. Jonathan Tyers, chief -subordinate. Also a Scotchman like yourselves, or by now you would -probably have been taken. Hark to them!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The people were howling outside, "Down with the rebels!" "Find the -Culloden dogs and cut them to pieces!" etc., the soldiers' voices -being heard the loudest of all, while in response many shouted, -"Charlie Stuart for aye!" and some bolder spirits shrieked a then -well-known song, "The Restoration," which had been originally composed -in honour of the return of Charles II.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," said the tall man, "come, your safety is here." Wherewith he -opened another door in the back of the arbour and showed them a quiet -leafy lane which was entirely deserted. "There," he continued, "is your -way. Follow the grove in this direction, and 'twill bring you to -Kennington," and he pointed south; "the other leads to the river. Fare -ye well, and if you are both wise, quit London as soon as you have -changed your garments. For myself I must go round to the front -entrance; if I go back through the gardens I may be called to account -by the mob for your escape."</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon which, and not waiting for his countrymen's thanks, he took -himself off quickly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which way now, Bertie?" asked Douglas. "Wandsworth is done with. -Where to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Kensington. I, at least, must watch the square to see if Kate gets -safe back to her home."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we go together. Only, what of these accursed clothes? We must -make shift to get rid of them."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> - -<h5>DENOUNCED.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">To put the river between them and their late antagonists and would-be -captors naturally occurred to the young men as their wisest plan, -although as, urged by Douglas, the other strode towards it, he more -than once reproached himself for coming away and leaving Lady -Fordingbridge behind. Nor could any words uttered by his friend -persuade him to regard his departure as anything else than -pusillanimous.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She went there to meet me; to see me once again," he repeated, "and I -have left her to Heaven knows what peril. These men know me--know -us--well enough for what we are. 'Tis not difficult to guess whence -comes their knowledge! They may accuse her of being a rebel, too. Oh! -Kate, Kate! what will be the end of it all; what the finish of our -wrecked and ruined lives?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No harm can come to her, I tell you," replied his comrade. "Why, man, -heart up! Has not the fox, Fordingbridge, made his peace with George; -how shall they arrest his wife or her father as rebels? Tush! 'tis not -to be thought on. Come, fling away as much of this disguise as -possible. We near the end of the lane, and I can hear the shouts of -the watermen to their fares; and still we must go a mile or two higher -up and take boat ourselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he discarded his own woollen cloak, and tossed it over a -high fence into the grounds of a country house by which they were now -passing, while, slowly enough, for his heart was sore within him, -Bertie imitated his actions. The axe (which, like the principal part -of his dress, had been hired from a costumer or fashioner--a class of -tradesmen more common even in those days than these, since fancy -dresses were greatly in demand for the masques, <i>ridottos al fresco</i>, -and fancy dress balls which took place so frequently) had been lost in -the latter part of the riot, and now he discarded also the peculiar -mask he had worn, producing from his pocket the ordinary vizard used -at such entertainments, and which the forethought of Douglas had -induced him to bring. For the rest, his clothes would attract no -attention. They were suitable either to a man whose circumstances did -not permit of his wearing velvet, silk, or fine broadcloth, or to one -who had assumed the simple disguise of a superior workingman. The -headsman's knife, however, he did not discard, but slipped up his -sleeve, and Douglas retained his sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now they drew near to the end of the lane, when, to their -satisfaction, they perceived an alley running out of it and parallel -to the course of the river, as they supposed, by the aid of which they -might be enabled to follow its course for some distance without coming -out on to the bank where, at this moment, there would be many persons -from the garden taking boat to the other side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fortune favours us up to now," exclaimed Sholto to his moody -companion, as they turned into this smaller lane; "Heaven grant it may -continue to do so!" Then, changing the subject, he said, "Bertie, lad, -who do you think set those bloodhounds on us? 'Twas some one who knew -of our hiding-hole. As we remarked, we were followed from Wandsworth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who!" said Elphinston, stopping to look in his friend's face and -peering at him under the light of the stars, "who, but one? The man -whom I have to kill; whom I am ordained to kill sooner or later."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will kill him?" the other asked, stopping also.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As a dog, when next I see him--or, no, not as a dog, for that is a -creature faithful and true, and cannot conceive treachery--but as some -poisonous, devilish thing, adder or snake, that stings us to the death -when least we expect the blow. Why," he asked, pausing, "do you -shudder?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," replied Douglas; "yet I have done so more than once when -his name has been mentioned. I know not why," he repeated, "unless I -am fey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fey! fey!" echoed Elphinston. "Let him be fey! He should be! It is -predestined; his fate at my hands is near. He cannot avoid it."</p> - -<p class="normal">As they ceased speaking they continued on their way until, at last, -the lane opened on to a dreary waste of fields and marshes which -stretched towards the very places which they most desired to avoid, -Battersea and Wandsworth; while opposite to them, on the other side of -the river, were the equally dreary marshes known as Tothill and -Pimlico Fields.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I' faith," said Douglas, as his eye roamed over all this extent of -barrenness, which was more apparent than it would otherwise have been -owing to the late rising of the moon, now near its full, "I' faith, -we're atwixt the devil and the deep sea--or, so to speak, the river. -How are we to cross; or shall we go back and over the bridge at -Westminster?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied Bertie; "as we came down the lane I saw a house to the -right of us; doubtless 'tis to that the lane belongs. Now, 'tis -certain there must be boats somewhere. Let us down to the shore and -see. Hark! there is the clock of Chelsea Church striking. The west -wind brings the sound across the marshes. Ha! 'tis eleven of the -clock. Come, let us waste no time."</p> - -<p class="normal">They turned therefore down to the river's bank, walking as quietly as -possible so that their feet should make no more noise than necessary -on the stones and shingle, for it was now low tide; and then, to their -great joy, they saw drawn up by the water's edge a small wherry in -which sat a man, and by his side he had a lantern that glimmered -brightly in the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friend," said Elphinston, "we have missed our way after leaving the -Spring Gardens; can you put across the river? We will pay you for your -trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">The fellow looked at them civilly enough, then he said, "Yes, so that -you waste no time. I have business here which I may not leave for more -than a quarter of an hour. Wilt give me a crown to ferry you across?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The price is somewhat high," said Douglas. "Yet, since we would not -sleep in these marshes all night, nor retrace our steps to Westminster -Bridge, we'll do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In with you, then," replied the man, "yet, first give me the crown; I -have been deceived by dissolute maskers ere now." Then, when he had -received the money, he said he supposed Ranelagh or the New Chelsea -Waterworks<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a> would do very -well. "Aye," said Douglas, "they will do," -whereupon, having taken their seats, the man briskly ferried them -across.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, as they traversed the river, the fear sprang into their hearts -that they had been tracked from Vauxhall, that even yet they were not -safe from pursuit. For scarcely were they half way across the stream -when the man's lantern, which he had left on the bank--perhaps as a -signal--was violently waved about in the air by some hand, while a -couple of torches were also seen flickering near it and voices were -heard calling to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! ay!" the man bellowed back; "ay! ay! What! may I not earn a crown -while you do your dirty work? In good time. In good time," he roared -still louder, in response to further calls from the bank, while he -pulled more lustily than before towards the north shore.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" asked Elphinston. "Who are they who seem so impatient -for your services?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pack of fools," the man replied. "Young sprigs of fashion who have -been quarrelling there," nodding towards Ranelagh Gardens, to which -they were now close, "quarrelling over their wine and their women, I -do guess, and two of them have crossed over to measure the length of -their swords. Well, well; if one's left on the grass I'll be there -pretty soon to see what pickings there are in his pockets. 'Tis the -fools that provide the wise men's feasts," whereon this philosopher -pulled his boat to the bank, set the young men ashore, and, a moment -later, was quickly pulling away back to the duelling party.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ranelagh itself was shut up as they stepped ashore, all its lights -were out and the hackney coachmen and chairmen gone with their last -fares; and of that night's entertainment--which was sure to have -been a great one in rivalry to its neighbour and opponent at -Vauxhall--nothing was left but the shouting figures of those on the -other bank, and, perhaps, a dead man on the grass of the marshes, with -a sword-thrust through his lungs and his wide-staring eyes gazing up -at the moon. It seemed, therefore, that they must walk to Kensington, -since no conveyance was to be found here.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not that the distance is much," said Bertie Elphinston, who had -before now walked at nights from Wandsworth and Chelsea to the Square, -simply to gaze on the house that enshrined the woman he had loved so -much; perhaps also to see the place where the man dwelt whom he meant -to kill when the opportunity should arise--"but 'tis the hour that -grows so late. If they have gone home at once from the gardens without -being disturbed by any of the police agents, she must be housed by -now--and--and--I cannot see her again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least you can wait. If not to-day, then to-morrow you can meet, -surely. All trace of us is lost now, we shall never go back to -Wandsworth--we must send the landlady our debt by some sure hand--a -change of clothes and hiding place will put us in safety again. And as -for messages, why, Archibald will convey them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Archibald!" exclaimed the other with a start. "Archibald! Heavens! we -had forgotten!--what have we been thinking of? He may be taken too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Taken! Archibald taken! Oh, Bertie, why should that be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why should it be! Rather ask, why should it not be? Do you think that -tiger's whelp who has set the law on us will spare him? No, Simeon -Larpent means to make a clean sweep of all at once; his wife's old -lover, that lover's friend, and the priest who knows so much of his -early life and all his secrets, plots and intrigues against first one -and then the other, Jacobite and Hanoverian alike. I tell you, -Archibald is in as great a danger as we are!" and he strode on -determinately as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">Their way lay now towards Knightsbridge by a fair, broad road through -the fields, and between some isolated houses and villas that were -dotted about; and as by this time the moon was well up, everything -they passed could be seen distinctly. Of people, they met or passed -scarcely any; the road that, an hour or so before, had been covered -with revellers of all degrees wending their way back from Ranelagh to -the suburbs of Chelsea, Kensington, and Knightsbridge, or to what had, -even in those days, been already called "The Great City," was now, -with midnight at hand, as deserted as a country lane. Yet one sign -they did see of the debaucheries that took place in Ranelagh as well -as in the Spring Gardens; a sign of the drunkenness and depravities -that prevailed terribly in those days among almost all classes. Lying -at the side of the road, where, doubtless, they had fallen together as -they reeled away from the night's orgie, they perceived two young men -and a young woman--masked, and presenting a weird appearance as they -lay on their backs, their flushed faces turned up to the moon, yet -with the upper part hidden by the black vizard. It was easy to -perceive that all had fallen together and been afterwards unable to -rise--as they lay side by side they were still arm in arm, and, -doubtless, the first who had fallen had dragged the others after him. -The two young men seemed from their apparel to be of a respectable -class, perhaps clerks or scriveners, their clothes being of good -cloth, though not at all belaced; as for their companion, the -bacchante by their sides, she might have been anything from shopgirl -or boothdancer down to demirep.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said Douglas, "here is our chance for disguise. These fellows -have good enough coats and hats--see, too, they sport the black -cockade. Well, 'twill not hurt them to sell us some apparel." -Wherewith he proceeded to lift the nearest sot up and relieve him of -his coat, waistcoat, and hat. Apparently the fellow thought he was -being put to bed by some one, as he muttered indistinctly, "Hang coat -over chair--shan't wear it 'gain till Sunday"--but as Douglas slipped -a couple of guineas into his breeches pocket he went to sleep -peacefully enough once more. As for the other young man, he never -stirred at all while Bertie removed his garments, nor when he put into -his pocket a similar sum of two guineas, and also his copper-cased -watch, which had slipped from out his fob.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are somewhat tight and pinching," remarked Douglas as he and his -friend donned their new disguise, "even though we are now as lean as -rats after our Scotch campaign."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, tight as their new clothes were, they answered, at least, a good -purpose. It would have taken a shrewd eye to recognise in these two -respectably clad men--in spite of their coats being somewhat dusty -from having lain in the road while on the backs of their late masters, -the headsman and the Highlander who, a few hours before, had walked -round and round the orchestra pavilion at Vauxhall.</p> - -<p class="normal">After this they went forward briskly towards Kensington-square, -attracting no attention from anyone indeed meeting few people, for at -this distance from the heart of the town there was scarcely anyone -ever stirring after midnight, and it was somewhat past that time now. -As they neared Kensington, it is true, they were passed by a troop of -the Queen's Guards (as the 2nd Life Guards were then called) -returning, probably, from some duty at St. James's Palace, but -otherwise they encountered none whom they need consider hostile to -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the square there was, when they reached it at last, no sign of -life. The watchman in his box slumbered peacefully, his dog at his -feet, and in the windows of the houses scarcely a light was to be -seen. Nor was there any appearance of activity in the house belonging -to Fordingbridge, though Bertie thought he should have at least seen -some light in the room which he knew, from enquiry of Sholto, to be -Kate's.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis strange," he said, "strange. Surely they must have returned -from the masquerade by now. After crossing the water a coach would -have brought them here in less than an hour. 'Tis passing strange!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may have got back so early," hazarded Douglas, "that already -all are abed. Or they may have gone on to Lady Belrose's, in -Hanover-square. A hundred things may have happened. And where, I -wonder, is Archie? He surely will be in bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can he be arrested? It may be so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God forbid! Yet this darkness and silence seem to me ominous. What -shall we do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven knows. Hist! Who comes here?" and as he spoke, from out -of one of the doorways over which was, as may still be seen, a huge -scallop-shell, there stepped forth a man. Enveloped in one of the long -cloaks, or roquelaures, still worn at the period, and with the tip of -a sword's scabbard sticking out beneath it, the man sauntered -leisurely away from where they were standing, yet as he went they -could hear him humming to himself an air they both knew well. It was -that old tune "The Restoration"--which they had heard once before this -evening!--to which the Highland army marched after it had crossed the -border.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently the man turned and came towards them slowly, then as he -passed by he looked straight in their faces, and, seeming satisfied by -what he saw, he muttered, "A fine spring night, gentlemen. Ay, and so -it is. A fine night for the young lambs outside the town and for the -hawks within--though the hawks get not always their beaks into the -lambs too easily; in fact, I may give myself classical license and say -they are <i>non semper triumphans</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In very truth," replied Bertie, "some--though 'tis not always the -hawks--are <i>nunquam triumphans</i>. That is, if I apprehend your -meaning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, sir," said the man, dropping his classics and changing his manner -instantly. "You apprehend me very well. Sir, I am here with a message -for you from a certain Scotch trader, one Mr. Archibald; also from a -certain fair lady----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or rather, let me say, without beating about the bush, I brought to a -certain fair lady, to-night, a message from Mr. Archibald, while she, -considering it possible that a certain, or two certain brave gentlemen -might appear in this square to-night, did beg me to remain in this sad -square to deliver the message."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," said Elphinston, teased by the man's quaint phraseology, yet -anxious to know what the message really was that had been sent from -Father Sholto to Kate, and on from her to him, "sir, we thank you very -much. Will you now please to deliver to us that message?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, I will. It is for that I am here." Then without more ado he said -hastily, "The worthy trader has been warned from a friend, a -countryman of ours, who is connected, or attached, so to speak, to the -Scotch Secretary of State's Orifice, that he may very possibly be cast -into durance should he remain there," and he jerked his thumb at Lord -Fordingbridge's house as he spoke; "whereon, seeing that precaution is -the better part of valour, the worthy trader has removed himself from -the hospitable roof there," upon which he this time jerked his head -instead of his thumb towards the house, "and has sought another -shelter which, so to speak as it were, is not in this part of the -town, but more removed. But, being a man of foresight and precaution, -also hath he gone to warn two gallant gentlemen residing at a sweet -and secluded village on the river to be careful to themselves -remove----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," said Douglas, "we have already done. Yet his warning must have -got there too late."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," continued their garrulous and perspicacious friend, "also did -he request and desire me to attend here in the square until a certain -fair lady should return from the gallimanteries and <i>ridottos al -fresco</i> to which she had that evening been."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did the certain fair lady return?" asked Elphinston, unable to -repress a smile at his stilted verbiage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Return she did. In gay company! Two sparks with her, dressed in the -best, though somewhat dishevelled as though with profane dancings and -junketings--one had his coat ripped from lapel to skirt--and an -elderly man--I fear me also a wassailer!--with a fierce eye. Then I up -and delivered the worthy--hem!--trader's message, when, lo! as flame -to torch-wood, there burst forth from all a tremendous clamjamfry such -as might have been heard up there," and this time he jerked his head -towards where Kensington Palace lay.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As how?" asked the young men together. "Why should they make a -clamjamfry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hech!" answered their eccentric countryman, "'tis very plain ye ken -not women--nor, for that matter, the young sparks of London! This is -how it went. One certain fair lady--from whom I bring you a wee bit -message--wrung her hands and wept, saying, 'Betrayed, betrayed again! -The veellain! the veellain!' whereby I think she meant not you; the -other fair lady, who is maybe an hour or so older, stormed and scolded -and screeched about unutterable scoundrels, yet bade the other cease -weeping and seek her house, to which she was very welcome; while the -two young men uttered words more befitting their braw though unholy -dishevelled apparel, and spake of him," and here the nodding head was -wagged over to Fordingbridge's house again, "as though he were Lucifer -incarnate--though that was not the name, so to speak as it were. And -for the old man with the fierce eye, hech! mon, his language was -unbefitting a Christian."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the message the lady scrawled. What is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis here," the other replied. "You must just excuse the hasty -writing--" but ere he could finish his remark Bertie had taken a piece -of paper from his hand which he brought out from under his cloak, and, -striding to where an oil lamp glimmered over a doorway, read what it -contained. The few lines ran as follows:</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"We are once more betrayed. He has, I know, done this. I leave his -house and him for ever from to-night. I pray God you may yet escape. -If you ever loved me, fly--fly at once. Lose no moment.--Katherine."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> - -<h5>HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was on a bright afternoon, a week after the events which have been -described, that Lord Fordingbridge's travelling carriage drew up in -front of his house, and my lord descended in an extremely bad humour. -There was, perhaps, more than one reason why he was not in the most -amiable of tempers, the principal one being that the news which he had -hoped to receive ere he again made his entrance into London had not -come to hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the time that he had been on his Cheshire property--which he had -found to be considerably neglected since his father's departure for -France--he had been expecting to receive, from one source or another, -the information of the arrest of those three enemies of his, about -whom he had given information sufficient to bring them to justice. Yet -none had come. Daily he had sent to the coach office at Chester for -the journals from London, but, when he had perused them, he still -failed to find that any of the three had been haled to justice. Nor -was there even a description in any of them of the scene at -Vauxhall--which, had he found such description, might have been -exceedingly pleasant reading. But, in truth, nothing was more unlikely -than that he should find it. A fracas at either Ranelagh or the Spring -Gardens was by no means likely to be chronicled in either the "London -Journal" or the "Craftsman," or any other news-sheet of the period, -since in those days the ubiquitous reporter was unknown, or, when he -existed, did not consider anything beneath a murder, a state trial, or -an execution worthy of his pen. Also the proprietors of Ranelagh and -Vauxhall, and similar places of entertainment, took very good care to -keep anything unpleasant that happened out of the papers. Nothing -short, therefore, of Mr. Jonathan Tyers sending an account of what had -occurred in his grounds to the papers of the day with the request that -it might be inserted--accompanied, perhaps, by a payment for such -insertion--would have led to the publication of the matter, and that -the worthy proprietor of the Spring Gardens would do such a thing as -this was not to be supposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also, my lord had received no news from his wife, nor her father, -which astonished him considerably. For he had supposed that, in about -a week's time, the post would bring him a letter full of accusations, -reproaches, and injurious epithets from her ladyship, who, he felt -sure, would at once connect him with the arrest of the three men--yet, -no more from her than from the public prints did he gather one word. -So that at last he began to have the worst fears that, after all, the -Government had bungled in some way and that the victims had escaped. -It was, therefore, in a very ill humour that he again returned to -London, cursing inwardly and vehemently at any delay necessitated by -the changing of horses, by nights spent at inns on the road, and by -the heavy roads themselves; and at St. Albans, where he once more -slept, by receiving no visit at all from Captain Morris, to whom he -had written saying that he would be there on a certain evening and -would be pleased to see him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Instead, however, he received a visit from another person who had -troubled his mind a great deal during the past week or so; a somewhat -rough, uncouth-looking fellow, who seemed to have dogged his footsteps -perpetually--who had passed him soon after he left Dunstable on his -journey down, whom he saw again at Coventry and at Stafford, and who, -to his amazement, now strode into the apartment he occupied as -hitherto, and stated that he brought a message from the Captain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hand it to me, then," said his lordship, regarding the man as he -stood before him in his rough riding cloak and great boots, and -recognising him as the fellow who had appeared so often on his -journey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is nothing to hand," the other replied. "Only a word-of-mouth -message."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A word-of-mouth message! Indeed! Captain Morris spares me but scant -courtesy. Well, what is the message?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only this. The work has failed, and the birds have escaped from the -net. That's all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Escaped from the net!" his lordship said, sinking back into the deep -chair he sat in, and staring at the uncouth messenger. "Escaped from -the net! But the particulars, man, the particulars! How has it come -about? Are the Government and their underlings a pack of fools and -idiots that they let malignant traitors escape thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very like, for all I know, or, for the matter of that, care. The -captain's one of their underlings, as you call them, and I'm another. -Perhaps we're fools and idiots."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are another, are you?" said his lordship, looking at him, -"another, eh? Pray, sir, is that why you have dogged me into Cheshire -and back again as you have done, for I have seen you often? Am I a -suspected person that I am followed about thus? Am I, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very like," again replied this stolid individual. "Very like, though -I know not. I received my orders at Dunstable to keep you in sight, -and I kept you, that's----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave the room. Go out of my sight at once!" exclaimed Lord -Fordingbridge, springing from his seat and advancing toward the man. -"Go at once, or the ostler shall be sent for to throw you out. Go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">When the man had departed, muttering that "fool, or idiot, or both, -he'd done his duty, and he didn't care for any nobleman in England, -Jacobite or Hanoverian, so long as he done that," the viscount gave -himself up to the indulgence of one of those fits, or rather tempests, -of passion, which, as a rule, he rarely allowed himself to indulge in, -and cursed and swore heartily as he stamped up and down the room for -half an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everything goes wrong with me," he muttered, as he shook his fist in -impotent rage at his own reflection in the great mirrors over the -fireplace, "everything, everything! If that infernal captain had only -gone to work as he should have done on the information I gave him, -they would all have been lodged in gaol by now--two of them doomed to -a certain death and the other to a long imprisonment or banishment to -the colonies. And now they are fled--are free--safe, while I am far -from safe since Elphinston is at large; and am suspected, too, it -seems, since, forsooth, that chuckle-headed boor is set to follow me."</p> - -<p class="normal">This latter thought was, perhaps, as unpleasant a one as any which -rose to his mind, since if he were also suspected it might be the case -that, while he had denounced the others, they--or probably Archibald -Sholto alone--might have denounced him. And at this terrible thought -he quaked with fear, for he knew what an array of charges might be -brought. Nay, it was the very fear of those charges being brought, -combined with his other fear of Elphinston wreaking vengeance on him -for having deceived and stolen his promised wife, that had led to his -betraying the three men who alone could denounce him. And now they -were all free, instead of being in Newgate or the Tower, and he, it -seemed, was as much suspected as they!</p> - -<p class="normal">He tossed about his bed all night, made a wretched breakfast, and then -set out for London, determined at all hazards to discover exactly what -had happened, or perhaps to find out that nothing had happened. Yet as -he went he mused on what his future course should be, and came to at -least one determination.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will send her ladyship packing," he said, with a sardonic grin. "I -have had enough of her and her airs and graces, and she may go to -Elphinston or to the devil for aught I care. I have a surprise to -spring upon her, a trump card, or, as the late Louis was said to call -that card, '<i>La dernière piece d'or</i>,' because it always won. And, by -Heaven, I'll spring it without mercy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">In which frame of mind his lordship arrived in front of his town -house. But now a new matter of astonishment arose, also a new fuel for -his humours; for the house appeared deserted, the blinds were drawn -down in all the windows. He could perceive no smoke arising from any -chimney, there was no sign of life at all about the place. He bade his -manservant get down from beside the coachman and tug lustily at the -bell, while all the time that the man was doing so he was fretting and -fuming inwardly, and at last was meditating sending for the watch and -having the door forced, when it was opened from the inside, and the -oldest servant in his establishment, a decrepit, deaf old man, who had -acted as caretaker for many years during his and his father's absence -abroad, appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come here, Luke, come here," his lordship called loudly to him; "come -here, I say," and he motioned that he should descend the steps and -approach the travelling carriage, from the door of which he was now -glaring at him. But, whether from fright or senility, or both -combined, the other did not obey him, and only stood shivering and -shaking and feebly bowing upon the threshold.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What devil's game is this?" Fordingbridge muttered to himself as he -now sprang out and ran up the steps, after which he grasped the old -man by the collar and, dragging him toward him, bawled in his ear -question after question as to what cause the present state of the -house was owing. But the old fellow only shivered and shook the more, -and seemed too paralyzed by his master's violence to do anything but -wag his jaws helplessly. Hurling him away, therefore, with no -consideration at all for either his age or feebleness, Fordingbridge -rushed through the hall ringing a bell that communicated with the -kitchens and another with the garrets, calling out the names of male -and female servants, and receiving no answer to any of his summons. -Then, tired of this at last, he bade his manservant bring in his -valises and ordered the travelling carriage off to the stables. But by -now the old servitor seemed to have recovered either his breath or his -senses somewhat, and coming up to his lordship in a sidling fashion, -such as a dog assumes when fearful of a blow if it approaches its -master too near, he mumbled that there was no one else in the house -but himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I should suppose," Lord Fordingbridge replied, endeavouring to -calm himself and to overcome the gust of passion with which he had -once more been seized, "so I should suppose; I have called enough to -have waked the dead had there been any here." Then once more regarding -the old man with one of his fierce glances, he shouted at him in a -voice that penetrated even to his ears, "Where are they all? Where is -her ladyship?" in a lower voice. "Where are the servants?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gone, all gone," Luke replied, "all gone. None left but me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are they gone to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man flapped his hands up and down once or twice--perhaps -he performed the action with a desire to deprecate his master's -anger--and looked up beseechingly into his face as though asking -pardon for what was no fault of his, then replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her ladyship has gone away--for good and all, I hear, my lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Where is she gone to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Lady Belrose's. I am told. She--she--they--the servants say she -will never come back."</p> - -<p class="normal">The viscount paused a moment--this news had startled even him!--then -he muttered, "No, I'll warrant she never shall. This justifies me." -And again he continued, still shouting at the old man, so that his -valet upstairs must have heard every word he uttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the servants, where are they?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All gone too. They were frightened by the police and the soldiers--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The soldiers! What soldiers?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They ransacked the house to find Mr. Archibald. But he, too, was -gone. That terrified all but me--me it did not frighten. No, no," he -went on, assuming a ludicrous appearance of bravery that was almost -weird to behold, "me it did not frighten. I remember when, also, the -soldiers searched the house for your father, his late lordship -with--he! he!--the same re----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence!" roared Fordingbridge. "How dare you couple my father's name -with that fellow? So Mr. Archibald is also gone! But what about the -soldiers? The soldiers, I say," raising his voice again to a shriek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, the soldiers," Luke repeated. "Yes, yes. The soldiers. Brave -soldiers. I had a son once in their regiment, long ago, when Dunmore -commanded them; he was wounded at--um----um" and he stopped, terrified -by the scowl on Lord Fordingbridge's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What," bawled the latter, "did they do here--in this house? Curse -your son and your recollections, too. What did they do here--in my -house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They sought for Mr. Archibald--her ladyship being gone forth. But he, -too, was out--ho! ho--and--and he never came back. Then the captain--a -brave, young lord, they say--said you were known to be fostering a -rebel--they called him a rebel Jesuit priest!--that you were denounced -from Dunstable, and that you must make your own account with the -Government. Then the maids fled, and next the men--they said they -owed you no service. Ah! there are no old faithful servants now--or -few--very few."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go!" said Fordingbridge, briefly--and again his look terrified the -poor old creature so, that he slunk off shivering and shaking as -before.</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly the viscount mounted the stairs to his saloon, or withdrawing -room, and when there he cast himself into a chair and brooded on what -he had heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Harbouring a rebel--a rebel Jesuit priest," he muttered. "So! so! am -I caught in the toils that I myself set? Pardieu, 'twould seem so. I -denounce a rebel, and, unfortunately, that rebel lives on me--is -housed with me. I never thought of that! It may tell badly for me; -worse, too, because I brought him to England in my train. How shall I -escape it?" And he sat long in his chair meditating.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The captain said," he went on, "that I must make my own account with -the Government. Ah, yes, yes; why! so indeed I must. And 'tis not -hard. Make my account! Why, yes, to be sure. Easy enough. I, having -embraced the principles of Hanover, and being now firm in my loyalty -to George, do, the better to confound his enemies, shelter in my house -one whom I intend to yield up to him. Well! there's no harm in that, -but rather loyalty. Otherwise," and he laughed to himself as he spoke, -"I might lay myself open to the reproach of being a bad host; of not -respecting the sacredness of the guest."</p> - -<p class="normal">Eased in his mind by this reflection and by the excuse which he had -found, as he considered, for appeasing the Government and satisfying -it as to his reasons for sheltering a Jesuit plotter, he rose from his -seat and wandered into the other rooms of his house, viewing with -particular interest and complaisance the one which had been her -ladyship's boudoir, or morning-room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pretty nest for so fair a bird," he muttered, as he regarded the -Mortlake hangings and lace curtains, the deep roomy lounge, the bright -silver tea service, and--as blots upon the other things--bunches of -now withered flowers in the vases. "A pretty nest. Yet, forsooth, the -silly thing must fall out of it; wander forth to freedom and misery. -For they say, who study such frivolities, that caged birds, once -released, pine and die even in their freedom. <i>Soit!</i> 'tis better that -the bird should escape and die of its own accord than be thrust into -the cold open by its master's hand. And that would have happened to -your ladyship," and he laughed as he spoke of her, "had you not taken -the initiative. My Lady Fordingbridge," uttering the words with -emphasis, nay, with unction, "I had done with you. It was time for you -to go."</p> - -<p class="normal">A little clock on the mantelpiece, a masterpiece of Tompion's, chimed -forth the hour musically as he spoke; he remembered his father buying -it as a present for his mother the year before they fled to France; -and turning round to look at it he saw, standing against its face, -where it could not fail to be observed, a letter addressed to him. -Opening it, he found written the words, "I have left the house and -you. I know everything now." That was all; there was no form of -address, no superscription. Nothing could be more disdainful, nor, by -its brevity, more convincing. And, whatever the schemes the man might -have been maturing in his evil mind against the writer, yet that -brief, contemptuous note stung him more than a longer, more -explanatory one could have done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," he said again, "so be it." Then he bade his man come and -dress him anew, and afterwards call a hackney coach. And on entering -the latter when ready, he ordered the driver to convey him first to -the Duke of Newcastle's (the Secretary of State), and later to Lady -Belrose's in Hanover-square.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For, to commence," he muttered, as he drove off, "I must square his -grace, and then have one final interview with my dearly beloved -Katherine. Newcastle has the reputation of being the biggest fool -in England--he should not be difficult to deal with; while as to -her--well, she is no fool but yet she shall find her master."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> - -<h5>ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Fortune had, indeed, stood the friend of those three denounced men, -otherwise they must by now have been lying--as Fordingbridge had -said--in one of the many prisons of London awaiting their trial; -trials which--in the case of two at least--would have preceded by a -short time only their executions and deaths; deaths made doubly -horrible by that which accompanied them, by the cutting out and -casting into the fire of the still beating hearts of the victims, the -disembowelling and quartering and mangling.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, if such was ever to be their fate--and they tempted such fate -terribly by their continued presence in London, or, indeed, in -England--it had not yet overtaken them; until now they were free. How -Douglas Sholto and Bertie Elphinston had escaped the snare you have -seen; how Archibald Sholto eluded those who sought him has now to be -told.</p> - -<p class="normal">Kate had no sooner departed in a chariot, sent for her by Lady -Belrose, to take a dish of tea in company with the other members of -the proposed party before going on to Vauxhall, than Mr. Archibald, -who had a large room at the top of the house, was apprised by the -servant that a Scotch gentleman awaited him in the garden.<a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a> -On -desiring to be informed what the gentleman's name and errand were--for -those engaged as the Jesuit now was omitted no precautions for their -safety--a message was brought back that the visitor was an old friend -of Mr. Archibald's, whom he would recognise on descending to the -garden, and that his business was very pressing. Now Archibald was a -man of great forethought--necessity had made him such--and therefore, -ere he descended to the garden, he thought it well to take an -observation of this mysterious caller, who might be, as he said, a -friend or, on the other hand, a representative of the law endeavouring -to take advantage of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The opportunity for this observation presented itself, however, -without any difficulty. On the backstairs of each flight in the houses -of Kensington-square there existed precisely what exists in the -present day in most houses, namely, windows half-way up each flight, -and, gazing out into the garden--up and down the gravel walks of which -the visitor was walking, sometimes stopping to inspect or to smell -some of the roses already in bloom, and sometimes casting glances of -impatience at the house--Archibald saw the man who, later on, was to -deliver Kate's message to Bertie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why!" he exclaimed to himself, "as I live 'tis James McGlowrie. -Honest Jemmy! Indeed, he can come on no evil intent to me or to those -dear to me. Yet--yet--I fear. Even though he means no harm he may be -the bearer of bad news," and so saying he passed down the stairs and -to the man awaiting him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"James," he said, addressing the other in their native brogue, "this -is a sight for sair een. Yet," he went on, "what brings you here? -First, how did you know I dwelt here, and next, what brings -you?--though right glad I am to see you once again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a wee bit message for ye, Archibald," said the other, shaking -him warmly by the hand, "that it behoves you vary weel to hear. And," -dropping at once into the verbosity that was to so tease, while at the -same time it amused, Elphinston some hours later, "not only to hear, -but, so to speak, as it were, to ponder on, yet also to decide quickly -over and thereby to arrive at a good determination. D'ye take, -Archibald Sh----, I mean, so to speak, Mr. Archibald?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, no," said the other, with a faint smile, "I cannot in truth say -that I do. James McGlowrie, you can speak to the point when you -choose. Choose to do so now, I beg you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the point is very well. And so I will speak. Now, Archie, old -friend, listen. Ye ken and weel remember, I doubt not, Geordie McNab, -erstwhile of Edinburgh."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So--so. Vary weel. Now Geordie McNab is come south and has gotten -himself into the Scotch Secretary of State's office, for Geordie is no -Jacobite!--and there he draws £200 a year sterling--not Scotch. Oh, -no. Geordie is now vary weel to do, and what with the little estate -his poor auld mother left him, which, so to speak, yields him thirty -bolls and firlots of barley, some peats at twopence per load, and many -pecks of mustard seed at a shilling, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jemmy, Jemmy," said the other, reproachfully, "was this the important -errand you came here upon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay. My tongue runs away with me as ever. Yet, listen still. -Geordie is no Jacobite, yet, i'faith, there's a many he's overweel -disposed to, among others an old schoolfellow o' his, one Archibald."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One Archibald! Ha! I take you. And, Jemmy, is he threatened; has he -aught to fear from the Scotch Secretary's office?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The warst that can befall. Ay, man, the very warst. So are also two -friends of his, late of--hem--a certain army that has of late made -excursions and alarums, as the bard hath it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So! I understand! We have been informed against, blown upon. Alas! -alas! We were free but for this--our names not even upon the list."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet now," said McGlowrie, "are they there. Likewise also your -addresses and habitments--all are vary weel known. My laddie, ye must -flee out o' the land and awa' back to France, and go ye must at once. -There's no time to be lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot go without warning the others--without knowing they are -safe." Then, while a terribly stern look came into his face, he said, -"Who has done this thing, McGlowrie, who has done it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can ye not vary weel guess? 'Tis not far to seek."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," the Jesuit answered, "it needs no question. Oh! Simeon Larpent, -Simeon Larpent, if ever I have you to my hand again, beware. Oh! to -have you but for one hour in Paris and with the Holy Church to avenge -me, a priest, against you!" Then changing this tone to another more -suitable, perhaps, to the occasion and the danger in which he stood, -he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do they mean to do? When will they proceed to the work, think -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At once; to-night, perhaps; to-morrow for certain. Go, Archie, go, -pack up your duds and flee, I say. Even now the Government may have -put the officers upon your hiding-place; have told the soldiers at -Kensington to surround the house. Lose no time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the boys--the boys at Wandsworth. What of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They shall be warned, even though I do it myself. But now, Archie, up -to your room, bring with you--in a small compass, so to speak--your -necessaries, and come with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where to? Where to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hech! with me. I have a bit lodgment, as you will know vary weel -soon, in the Minories; 'tis near there poor Lady Balmerino -lodges--though they promise her that after her lord is condemned, as -he must be--as he must be!--she shall be lodged with him in the Tower -to the last; come with me, I say. For the love o' God, Archie, -hesitate no longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then indeed, Archibald Sholto knew that, if he would save himself and -help the others, and--as he hoped--wreak his vengeance on the -treacherous adder that had stung them, he must follow honest James -McGlowrie's counsel. So, very swiftly he passed up to his room, -collected every paper he possessed, and carried away with him a small -valise, in which were a change of clothes, several bank bills and a -bag of guineas, Louis d'ors, and gold crowns. Then he returned to the -garden where McGlowrie was still walking up and down as before, and -announced that he was ready to follow him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only," he said, "we will go as quietly as may be, and without a word. -I will not even tell the servants I am going, Heaven knows if they are -not spies themselves. I will just vanish away, and, as I hope, leave -no trace. Come, Jemmy, there is a door behind the herb-garden that -gives into the lane, and the lane itself leads to the West-road. If we -can cross that in safety we can pass by Lord Holland's--he is -Secretary of War now, and of the Privy Council--yet that matters not -to us; behind his leafy woods we shall come to the other road. Then -for a hackney or a passing coach to the city. Only, the boys, Jemmy, -the boys! What of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear. If they are not warned already by Geordie McNab 'twill -surprise me very much, and once I have seen ye off to the Minories -I'll be away to Wandsworth myself. Thereby I'll make sure. Come, -Archie, come. The evening draws in. Come, mon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will. Only, Jemmy, stick your honest nose outside the garden gate -and see that neither soldiers, spies, nor men of the law are there. If -it is as you say, the house may even now be surrounded."</p> - -<p class="normal">McGlowrie did as the other requested, going out and sauntering up and -down the lane, but seeing no signs of anyone about who might threaten -danger. To a maid-servant, drawing water from a well which served for -many of the gardens of the houses, he gave in his pleasant Scotch way -the "good e'en," and remarked that "the flowers were thirsty these -warm May nights, and required, so to speak as it were, a draught to -refresh 'em "; and to a boy birdnesting up tree he observed that it -was a cruel sport which would wring a poor mither's heart, even as his -own mither's would full surely be wrung should he be torn away from -her grasp, even as he was tearing the young from the nest. But, all -the time he was delivering these apothegms, his eye was glancing up -and down the lane, and searching for any sign of danger. And, seeing -none, he went back to Archibald Sholto and bade him follow since all -was clear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," said he, as they passed to the left of Holland House and so -reached Kensington Gravel Pits, "let us form our plans. First, there -are the two young men, who must of a surety have been warned by -Geordie, yet, supposing he should have failed, must yet be warned, so -to speak. Now, shall I get me away----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" said Sholto, "I have just recalled to mind that, if they are -not already on their guard, 'tis now too late. They were to go to the -masquerade at Vauxhall; are there by now. 'Tis certain. One of them -had an appointment with--with the wife of the double-dyed scoundrel -who owns the house we have but just now quitted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoot! Ma conscience! With his enemy's wife. Vary good! Vary good! -Perhaps 'tis not so strange the man is his enemy. Weel, weel, 'tis no -affair of mine, yet I like not this trafficking wi' other men's goods. -But since they are away on this quest they need no warning. Now for -yourself, Archie. Get you away to the Minories--here is the precise -address," and he slipped a piece of paper into his hand, "go there, -lie perdu, and await my return."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But Kate! Lady Fordingbridge! I must let her know of my absence; what -will she think when she returns home and finds me gone? And the -others--they may be taken when they also return to their homes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave't to me. I will await my lady's return from these worldly -doings--ma word! a married woman and meeting other men in such sinfu' -places!--even though she comes not till the break o' day--as is very -likely, I fear, under the circumstances! And, meanwhile, for the -others we must trust to Geordie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Archibald Sholto, "we will not trust to Geordie, true as I -believe him to be. This is the best plan. If you will wait--as I know -you will--until her ladyship returns, though it will not be for some -hours yet, I apprehend, I will make my way to Wandsworth, find out if -they are warned, and, if not, will myself wait their return. Then I -will accept your shelter in the Minories for a time until we can all -three get safe back to France. For France is now our only refuge -again, as it has so often and so long been before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said McGlowrie, "perhaps so 'tis best. None know you at -Wandsworth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None. No living soul except the woman of the house--a true one. Her -father fell in the Cause in the '15' at Sherriffmuir. She is safe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. Then away with you to yon village, and trust me to manage -things in this one. Now, off wi' you, Archie, but first make some -change in your clothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how? I have no other clothes but those I wear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoot! a small changement is easy, and sometimes, so to speak as it -were, effectual. Off with that hat and wig." And as he spoke he took -off each of his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will lose by the exchange, Jemmy," said Archibald. "Mine is but a -rusty bob and a poor hat; both yours are very good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No matter. To-morrow at the lodgment we will change again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore, with his appearance considerably altered, Archibald Sholto -prepared now to set out for Wandsworth. But ere he did so he said one -word to honest James McGlowrie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jemmy," he remarked, "make no mistake about Ka--Lady Fordingbridge -and this meeting with Bertie Elphinston to which she has gone. She is -as good and pure a woman as ever lived and suffered. I have known her -from a child, gave her her first communion; there is no speck of ill -in her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lived and suffered, eh?" repeated the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, lived and suffered! The man she has gone to meet was to have been -her husband; they loved each other with all their hearts and souls; -and by foul treachery she was stolen from him by that most -unparalleled scoundrel, Fordingbridge. Remember that, Jemmy, when you -see her to-night; remember she is as pure a woman as your mother was, -and respect her for all that she has endured."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," said Jemmy, manfully, "have no fear. Although ye are a -Papist, Archie, and a priest at that, I'll e'en take your word for -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">So, with a light laugh from the Jesuit at the rigid and plain-spoken -Presbyterianism of his old schoolfellow and whilom fag, they parted -with a grasp of the hand, each to what he had to do. That James -McGlowrie carried out his portion of the undertaking has been already -told, as well as how, after the information he gave Lady -Fordingbridge, she decided to accept Lady Belrose's offer of her house -as a refuge, if only temporarily; and how he afterwards became a -messenger from her to Bertie Elphinston.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for Archibald Sholto, he, too, did that which he had said would be -best. He made his way from Kensington to Chelsea and so to Wandsworth, -only to find when he had arrived there that his brother and friend had -long since--for it was by then nine o'clock--departed for Vauxhall. -Therefore he said a few words to the landlady--herself an adherent of -the Stuarts, as she, whose father had fallen at Sherriffmuir, was -certain to be--telling her that it was doubtful if they would ever -return to their lodgings, but that, if they did, she must manage to -send them off at once. He told her, too, the address of the Minories -where he could be communicated with, under cover to McGlowrie, and, -since he it was who had sent them as lodgers to her house, he gave her -some money on their account. Then he left her and, thorough and -indomitable in all he did, made his way to the Spring Gardens.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If they are there," he thought, as he waited outside the inn in -Wandsworth--an old one, known then, as now, as the Spread Eagle, while -the horse was being put into the shafts of the hackney coach he had -hired, "I may see them in time to warn them. Dressed as the -executioner, the woman said of Bertie and Douglas, without any -disguise, though in a garb that will be supposed to be one in that -place; there should be no difficulty in finding them if they are still -there. Thank God, they were not caught in their lodgings."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not know, nor could the landlady have told him--not knowing -herself--of how they had been watched and followed from the village to -Vauxhall; so he passed his time on the lonely drive through the -Battersea marshes in meditating how this last act of treachery of Lord -Fordingbridge was to be repaid. For that it should be so repaid, and -with interest, Archibald Sholto had already determined. "Though not -for his baseness to me so much," he muttered, "as to those whom I -love. For since to me, a priest, there can be no home, no wife, no -children, I have centred all my heart upon those three--my brother, -our friend Bertie, and poor, bonnie Kate. And those it is against whom -he has struck. May God forget me if I strike not equally, ay! and with -more certainty than he has done, when my hour comes."</p> - -<p class="normal">A good friend was Archibald Sholto, Jesuit though he was, but a -terrible foe. As you shall see.</p> - -<p class="normal">On his way to the garden he passed half a dozen young men of fashion -who, from their talk and actions, he knew to be about to assist at a -duel, and, forgetting that he was in secular garb, he could not -forbear from addressing them in his priestly character and begging -them to desist from the sin they contemplated. But they bade him pass -on and not interfere in what concerned him not, while one, striking at -the horse with his clouded cane, caused the animal to dash off upon -the uneven road or track. These, doubtless, were the men for whom the -boatmen who ferried Bertie and Douglas across later on were waiting.</p> - -<p class="normal">So he reached the gardens, but only to find that most of the company -was already gone, and that, with the exception of a few revellers who -would keep the night up so long as it were possible, none of the -masqueraders remained. Yet, even from these he gathered enough to set -his mind fairly at rest; for, happening to hear one of them speak of -the "merry disturbance" which had taken place that night, and also -boast somewhat loudly of how he had assisted the Jacobites in -resisting the limbs of the law, he, by great suavity and apparent -admiration of the speaker's prowess, managed to extract from him a -more or less accurate account of what had taken place.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus he learned that, in some way, his brother and friend had made -their escape--aided, of course, by the pot-valiant hero to whom he was -listening--and also that the "ladies of fashion" and the gentlemen by -whom they were accompanied had also departed without molestation. -"Though," continued the narrator, as he swallowed the last drop of -brandy in his glass and then looked ruefully at the empty vessel, "I -know not if they would have been allowed to go so freely had not I and -my friend assisted in protecting them."</p> - -<p class="normal">After that Archibald withdrew, and, on foot, made his way to the City, -while as he crossed London Bridge nearly two hours later--for he was -weary with all that had happened that day--the sun came up and lighted -with a rosy hue the Tower lying on his right hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," he muttered. "Ay, many's the poor aching heart within your -walls this morning besides the doomed Balmerino, Cromartie, and -Kilmarnock--for nought can save them; thank God that some at least are -free at present. But how long will they be so? How long? How long?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> - -<h5>HEY! FOR FRANCE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">During the time which elapsed between the eventful proceedings of that -day and the time when my Lord Fordingbridge--agitated by receiving no -news in Cheshire from his wife--returned to London, all those whom -this history has principally to deal with met together with -considerable frequency.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, whether the clue was lost to the whereabouts of Elphinston and -the Sholtos, or whether the Government was growing sick of the -wholesale butchery of Jacobites which was going on in Scotland and -England--though it would scarce seem so, since two of the lords in the -Tower and some score of other victims were yet to be executed and -their remains to be brutally used--at least those three friends were -still at large. Archibald Sholto was in hiding at James McGlowrie's -lodgings in the Minories, in the neighbourhood of which that honest -gentleman was much engaged in the grain and cattle trade between -London and Scotland and also Holland and France. Farther east still -was Bertie Elphinston, he being close to the spot where the unhappy -Lady Balmerino, his kinswoman, was lodged; while in the West End, or -rather the west of London, at the Kensington Gravel Pits, and under -the roof of no less a person than Sir Charles Ames, Douglas had found -a home and hiding place.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for Kate and her father, they were in Hanover-square, the guests of -Lady Belrose, and were to remain as such until the former had had an -interview with Fordingbridge. "For," said Kate to her friend who, -although a comparatively new one, was proving herself to be very -staunch, "then I shall know, then I shall be able to decide; though -even now my decision is taken, my mind made up. Who can doubt that it -is he who has done this? He and no other. No other!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, dear," replied her hostess, as she bade her black boy--a -present from her devoted admirer, Sir Charles--go get the urn filled, -for they were drinking tea after dinner, "indeed, dear, no one, I -think, from all that you have told me. Yet if you leave him, what is -to become of you and Mr. Fane? You have, you say--pardon me for even -referring to such a thing--no very good means of subsistence. I," went -on her ladyship, speaking emphatically, "should at least take my -settlement. I would not, positively I would not, allow the wretch to -benefit by keeping that. No, indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," replied Kate, "'tis as I fear--nay, as I know it is, I will not -touch one farthing of his. Not one farthing. I will go forth, and he -Shall be as though I had never seen or spoken to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," asked the more practical woman of the world, "what will you do, -dear? You cannot live on air, and--which is almost worse--you cannot -marry someone who will give you a good home. And you so pretty, too!" -she added.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry again!" exclaimed Kate, her eyes glistening as she spoke. -"Heaven forbid! Have I not had enough of marriage? One experience -should suffice, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has indeed been a sad one," answered Lady Belrose, who had herself -no intention of continuing her widowhood much longer, and was indeed -at that moment privately affianced to Sir Charles Ames. "But, Kate, if -your monster were dead you might be happy yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," the other replied, "never. And he is not dead, nor like to -die. I am, indeed, far more likely to die than he--since the doctors -all say I am far from strong, though I do not perceive it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what will you do?" again asked the practical hostess. "How live? -Mr. Fane has, you say, no longer sufficient youth or activity to earn -a living for you at the fence school--can you, dear, earn enough for -both?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think so," Kate replied, "by returning to Paris. That we must -do--there is nothing to be earned here. But, in Paris, Archibald -Sholto has much influence in the court circles; he knows even the King -and--and--the new favourite, La Pompadour, who has deposed Madame de -Chateauroux. Also he is a friend of Cardinal Tencin, who owes much to -the exiled Stuarts. It is, he thinks, certain that some place either -at the court, or in the prince's household--if he has escaped from -Scotland, which God grant!--or in the Chevalier St. George's, at Rome, -might be found for me--a place which would enable me to keep my old -father from want for the rest of his life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kate, you are a brave woman, and a good one, too, for from what you -have told me your father himself has behaved none too well to you, -and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must forget that," the other replied, "and remember only how for -years he struggled hard to keep a home for us, to bring me up as a -lady. I must put away every thought of his one wrong to me and -remember only all that he has done for my good."</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile Kate's determination to part from her husband--if, as no one -doubted, he it was who had endeavoured to betray the others to the -Government--was well known to her three friends; and therefore, with -them as with her and her father, preparations were being hurried on by -which they also might return to France. For them there was, as there -had been before the invasion of Scotland and England, the means -whereby to exist; Douglas and Bertie had not sacrificed their -commissions in the French regiments to which they belonged, and -Archibald was employed by the Stuart cause as an agent, was also a -member of the College of St. Omer, and was a priest of St. Eustache. -That Bertie Elphinston would ever have left London while his kinsman -and the head of his house, Arthur, Lord Balmerino, lay in the Tower -awaiting his trial and certain death was not to be supposed, had not a -message come from that unhappy nobleman ordering him to go. Also, he -bade him waste no time in remaining where he was hourly in danger and -could, at the same time, be of no earthly good.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He bids me tell you, Bertie," said Lady Balmerino, in a meeting which -she contrived to have with the young man on one of those evenings when -both were lodged in the Eastend, and while she wept piteously as she -spoke, "he bids me tell you that it is his last commandment to you, as -still the head of your house and the name you bear, to flee from -England. The rank and title of Balmerino must die with him, but he -lays upon you the task of bearing and, he hopes, perpetuating the name -of Elphinston honourably. Also he sends you his blessing as from a -dying old man to a young one, bids you trust in God and also serve the -House of Stuart while there is any member of it left. And if more be -needed to make you fly, he orders you to do it for your mother's -sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">After that Elphinston knew where his duty lay--knew that he must -return to France. It was hard, he swore, to leave England and also, -thereby, to leave the scoundrel Fordingbridge behind and alive, still -he felt that it must be so. Fordingbridge merited death--yet he must -escape it!</p> - -<p class="normal">But he had one consolation, too. Ere long Kate would be -back in Paris--it was not possible that her husband could be -innocent--therefore he would sometimes see her. A poor consolation, -indeed, he told himself, to simply be able to see the woman who was to -have been his wife yet was now another man's--no power on earth, no -determination on her part to sever her existence from Fordingbridge -could alter that!--yet it was something. Consequently, he with the -others set about the plans for their departure.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, to so arrange and manage for this departure, they looked to James -McGlowrie, who had both the will and the power to help them.</p> - -<p class="normal">An old acquaintance of his in Scotland, when both were boys who had -not then gone forth into the world, McGlowrie had kept up an -occasional correspondence with Archibald Sholto until the present -time, and thereby had been able to afford him assistance and had -proved himself invaluable when Fordingbridge informed against them. -Indeed, had McGlowrie not known where Archibald Sholto was living when -in London, Geordie McNab's information derived from the Scotch -Secretary's Office could never have been utilized, and Archibald -Sholto must at least have been taken. And now he was to be even more -practically useful than before--it was in his cattle-trading boats -that all were, one by one, to be conveyed to the continent. "Though," -said Jemmy, as he arranged plans with them one night in a little inn -at Limehouse where they were in the habit of meeting, and where there -was little danger of their being discovered, "I can give none of ye -any certain guarantee, so to speak as it were, of ye getting over in -safety. Infernal sloops o' war and bomb-ketches, and the devil knows -what else, are prowling about the waters looking for rebels, and as -like as not may light upon the one or other of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must risk that," said Bertie. "Great heavens! what have we not -risked far worse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Vary weel," replied McGlowrie; "then let one of you begin the risk -to-morrow night. And you it had best be, Mr. Elphinston. My little -barky drops down the river then, and once you're round the North -Foreland you will be safe, or nearly so, to reach Calais. Be ready by -seven to-morrow night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you select me to go first, Mr. McGlowrie? I have quite as -many, if not more, interests in England than either Douglas or -Archie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Um!" muttered honest Jemmy, who did not care to say that he thought a -man who was philandering about after a married woman was best got out -of the way as soon as possible, though such was, indeed, his opinion, -he being a strict moralist. "Um! I thought the noble lord had laid his -commands on ye to be off and awa' at anst. The head of the family must -be obeyed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also," said Archibald Sholto, "you have your mother to think of. We -have no mother. Bertie, you had best go to-morrow night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you have seen Kate," whispered gentle Douglas Sholto, who took, -perhaps, a more romantic view of things--for he had known of their -love from the first and, from almost envying them at its commencement, -had now come to pity them, "have made your farewells. If you get safe -to France you must of a surety meet again--for Fordingbridge is a -villain, and she will keep her word and part from him--is it not best -you go at once?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You and I have always gone together, Douglas, hand in hand in all -things," his friend replied; "I like not parting from you now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still let it be so, I beg you. Remember, once we are back in Paris -all will be as happy as it has been before, or nearly so, and there -will be no Fordingbridge there. He, at least, will not be by us to set -the blood tingling in our veins with the desire to slay him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," said Bertie, "I will go."</p> - -<p class="normal">This being therefore decided, McGlowrie gave his counsel as to what -was to be done. The "little barky" of which he had spoken was in the -habit of taking over to Calais good black cattle in exchange for -French wines (what did it matter if sometimes the bottles were stuffed -full of lace instead of Bordeaux?), silks, and ribbons, and it was as -a drover he proposed Elphinston should go. The duties would be -nothing, and the assumption of them would be a sufficient explanation -of his being on board.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And then," said he, "when once you set your foot on Calais sands you -can again become Captain Elphinston of the regiment of Picardy, and -defy King Geo--hoot! what treason am I talking?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the truth that he had seen Kate again since the night of the -conflict at Vauxhall, and then, stung to madness by the renewed -villainy and treachery of her husband, he had pleaded to her to let -him seek out Fordingbridge and slay him with his own hands. But, -bitterly as she despised and hated the man who had brought them such -grief and sorrow, she refused to even listen to so much as a -suggestion of his doing this.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, shuddering at the very idea of such a -tragedy. "No, no. What benefit would it be to you or to me to have the -stain of his blood on our hands?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would remove for ever the obstacle between us," he said; "would -set you free; would place us where we were before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never, never," she replied. "I have been his wife--though such by -fraud and trickery--and if he were dead, God knows I could not mourn -him; yet I will not be his murderess, his executioner, as I shall be -if I let you slay him. If he fell by your hand, I could never look -upon your face again. Moreover, even were I hardened enough to do -so--which I am not--do you not know that the French law permits no man -to become the husband of a woman whose first husband he has slain? We -should be as far apart then as ever--nay, farther, with his death -between us always."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, I know," he said, recognising, however, as he did so that -there was no possibility of his taking vengeance on Fordingbridge, -since by doing so he would thus place such a barrier between them. -"Yet there are other lands where one may live besides France and -England. There is Sweden, where every soldier is welcome; there -is----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cease, I beseech you, cease! It can never be. If in God's good time -He sees fit to punish him, he will do so. If not, I must bear the lot -that has fallen to me. Meanwhile be assured that once I find he has -done this act of treachery, I shall never return to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we shall meet in Paris--that is, if ever I can get back there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she answered. "We shall meet in Paris; for it is there I must -go. There, at least, I must find a means of existence; though, since -now we understand, since we have forgiven each other--is it not -so?--'twould perhaps be best that we should not meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," he protested. "No, no. For even though this snake has -crept in between us--so that never more can we be to each other -what--what--my God!--what we once were; so that there must be no love, -no passing of our days, our lives, together side by side--yet, Kate, -we can at least know that the other is well if not happy; we can meet -sometimes. Can we not? answer me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, go!" she exclaimed, breaking down at his words and weeping -piteously, as she sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. -"Go! In mercy, go! I cannot bear your words; they break my heart. -Leave me, I beseech you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">So--because he, too, could bear the interview no longer, and could not -endure to see her misery--he left her, taking her hand and kissing it -ere he departed, and whispering in her ear that soon they would meet -again.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>MAN AND WIFE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The hackney coach drew up at Lady Belrose's house in Hanover-square a -couple of hours after it had left Kensington-square, and Lord -Fordingbridge, descending from it, rang a loud peal upon the bell.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some reason--the whereof was perhaps not known to him, or could -not have been explained by even his peculiarly constituted mind--he -had attired himself for the two interviews with great care. His black -velvet suit, trimmed with silver lace--for he wore mourning for the -late viscount--was of the richest; his thick hair was now confined -beneath a handsome tye-wig, and his ruffles and breast lace were the -finest in his possession. Yet he, knowing himself to be the -unutterable scoundrel he was, could scarcely suppose that this -sumptuousness of attire was likely to have much effect upon the woman -who had deserted him for a cause which he had not the slightest -difficulty in imagining. Perhaps, however, it was assumed for the -benefit of the Duke of Newcastle, with whom he had had a satisfactory -interview.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Fordingbridge is living here," he said quietly, but with a -sternness he considered fitting to the occasion, to the grave elderly -man who opened the door to him--a man whose appearance, Lady Belrose -frequently observed, would have added respectability to the household -of a bishop--"show me to her."</p> - -<p class="normal">The footman looked inquiringly at him for a moment; he was not -accustomed to such imperious orders from any of her ladyship's -visitors, however handsome an appearance they might present. Then he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Belrose lives here. Lady Fordingbridge is her guest. And if you -wish to see her, sir, I must know whose name to announce."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am her husband, Lord Fordingbridge. Be good enough to announce -that, and at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">The staid manservant gave him a swift glance--it was not to be -doubted that many a gossip had been held below stairs as to the reason -why Lady Fordingbridge had quitted and caused to be shut up her own -house, only to come and dwell at his mistress's--then he invited his -lordship to follow him into the morning room on the right of the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell her ladyship," he said, and so left him.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he was alone, Lord Fordingbridge, after a hasty glance round -the room, and a sneer at the portraits of a vast number of simpering -young men which hung on the walls--her admirers, he considered, no -doubt--took a seat upon the couch and pondered over the coming -interview with his wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is time," he thought, "that things should draw to a conclusion. -For," he said, as though addressing Kate herself, "I have had enough -of you, my lady. You have long ceased to be a wife to me--never were -one, indeed, but for a month, and then but a very indifferent spouse, -a cold-hearted, cold-blooded jade; now it is time you should cease to -be so much in even name. So, so. You shall be stripped of your -borrowed plumage; we will see then how you like the position of -affairs. I myself am heartily sick of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had no premonition of what Kate might be about to say to him when -she should enter the room in which he now sat; yet he had a very -strong suspicion that her remarks would consist of accusations against -him of having betrayed the Sholtos and Elphinston.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," he said,-"let her accuse. I have the last card. It is a -strong one. It should win the trick."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet at the same time, strong as any card might be which he held in his -hand, he would have given a good deal to have known where at the -present moment those three men might be harbouring whom he had -endeavoured so strongly to give to the hangman's hands. And once, as a -sudden thought came to his mind--a thought that almost made the -perspiration burst out upon him--a thought that they might all be in -this very house and appear suddenly to take vengeance on him for his -treachery!--he nearly rose from his seat as though to fly while there -was yet time. But, coward though he was, both physically and morally, -he had strength to master his impulse, and, in spite of his fears that -at any moment Elphinston, whom he had wronged the worst of all, might -enter the room, to remain seated where he was.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still his eyes sought ever the hands of the clock as moment after -moment went by and his wife failed to come, until at last he was -wrought to so high a pitch of nervousness that he started at any sound -inside and outside of the house. A man bawling the news in the street -or blowing the horn, which at that time the newsboys carried to -proclaim their approach, set his nerves and fibres tingling; the -laughter of some of the domestics in the kitchens below him had an -equally jarring effect, and when aloud knock came at the street door -he quivered as though the avenging Elphinston was indeed there. Then, -at last, the door opened suddenly, and his wife stood before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He saw in one swift glance that she was very pale--she, whose -complexion had once been as the rose-blush--and this he could -understand. It was not strange she should be so. What he could not -understand was the habit in which she appeared, the manner in which -she was attired. Ever since she had become his wife he had caused her -to be arrayed in the richest, most costly dresses he could afford; had -desired, nay, had commanded, that in all outward things she should -carry out the character of Lady Fordingbridge; that her gowns, her -laces, her wigs, should all be suitable to his position.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now she appeared shorn of all those adornments which his common, -pitiful mind regarded as part and parcel of his dignity. The dress she -wore was a simple black one, made of a material which the humblest -lady in the land might have had on, without lace or trimmings or any -adornment whatsoever. Also on her head there was no towering wig, nor -powder, nor false curls; instead, her own sweet golden hair was neatly -brushed back into a great knot behind. Nor on her hands, nor on her -neck, was any jewellery, save only the one ring which, from the day he -had put it on her finger, she had ever regarded as a badge of slavery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam," he said, rising and advancing towards her, while as he did so -she retreated back towards the door, "Madam, I have come here to -desire an explanation from you as to why I find you gone from my house -and living under the shelter of another person's roof. And also, I -have to ask," he continued, letting his eye fall upon the plainness of -her attire, "why you present yourself before me in such a garb as you -now wear? I must crave an immediate answer, madam."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am here to give it," she replied. "And since I do not doubt that it -is the last time you and I will ever exchange words again in the -world, that answer shall be full and complete. But, first, do you -answer me this, Lord Fordingbridge. Was it by your craft that Mr. -Elphinston and Douglas and Archibald Sholto were denounced?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke very calmly; in her voice there was no tremor; also he could -see that her hands, in one of which she held a small packet, did not -quiver.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madam," he replied, endeavouring to also assume a similar calmness, -but not succeeding particularly well, while at the same time one of -those strong waves of passion rose in his breast which he had hitherto -always mastered when engaged in discussion with her, "madam, by what -right do you ask me such a question as this? What does it concern you -if I choose to denounce Jacobite plotters to the Government? Nothing! -And again I ask why you have left my roof for that of the worldling -with whom you have taken refuge, and why you appear before me in a -garb more befitting a mercer's apprentice than my wife?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your equivocation condemns you. Simeon Larpent, it was you who played -the spy, you who were the denouncer of those three men. I knew that -there could be no doubt on that score."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And again I say, what if I did? What then? What does it concern you? -What have you to do with it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have this to do," she replied; "but that which is to be done shall -be done before witnesses," and stepping to the bell rope, she pulled -it strongly, so that the peal rang through the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Witnesses!" he exclaimed. "Witnesses! None are required. Yet, be -careful; I warn you ere it is too late. If you summon witnesses to -this interview, they may chance to hear that which, to prevent their -hearing, you would rather have died. Be careful what you do, madam."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he finished, the footman opened the door, and, without hesitating -one moment, she said to the man:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ask the two gentlemen to step this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Two gentlemen!" he repeated; "two gentlemen! So, this is a trap! Who -are the two gentlemen, pray?" and as he spoke he drew his sword. "If, -as I suspect, they are the two bullies--your lover, whom you meet at -masquerades, whom you give assignations to, and his friend--they shall -at least find that I can defend myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, bold as he seemed, he was now in great fear. He expected -nothing else but that, when the door again opened, Sholto and -Elphinston would appear before him, and he began to quake and to think -his last hour was come. His treachery was, he feared, soon to be -repaid.</p> - -<p class="normal">She made no answer to his vile taunt about her lover, nor did she take -any heed of the drawn sword that shook in his hand; had she been a -statue she could not have stood more still as she regarded him with -contempt and scorn.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the door did open, and Sir Charles Ames and Douglas Sholto -entered the room. The first he did not know; had, indeed, never seen -him before; but at the sight of the other he grasped his weapon more -firmly, expecting that ere another moment had passed the hands of the -young Highlander would be at his throat, and that he would have to -defend his life against him. To his intense surprise Sholto treated -him with as much indifference as if he too had been a statue; after -one glance--which, if disdain could have the power to slay, would have -withered him as he stood--he took no further heed of him. As for Sir -Charles Ames, he, observing the drawn weapon in the other's hand, -smiled contemptuously, shrugged his shoulders, and then took his place -behind Lady Fordingbridge and by the side of Douglas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Charles and you, Douglas," she said, "forgive me for asking you -to be present at this interview, yet I do so because I desire that in -after days there shall be one or two men, at least, to testify to that -which I now do." Then, turning towards her husband, who still stood -where he had risen on her entrance, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simeon Larpent, since first I met you--to my eternal -unhappiness--your life has been one long lie, one base deceit. The -first proposals ever made to me by you were degrading to an honest -woman, were infamy to listen to. Next, you obtained me for your wife -by more lies, by more duplicity, by more deceit. Also, from the time I -have been your wife, you, yourself a follower of the unhappy house of -Stuart by birth and bringing up, have endeavoured in every way to -encompass the death of three followers of the same cause, because one -of those men was to have been my husband had not you foully wronged -him to me; because the other two were his and my friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused a moment as though to gather fresh energy for her -denunciation of him; and he, craven as he was, stood there before her, -white to the very lips, and with his eyes wandering from one to the -other of the two listeners. Then she continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"For all this, Simeon Larpent, but especially for that which you have -last done, for this your last piece of cruel, wicked treachery, for -this your last bitter, tigerish endeavour to destroy three men who had -otherwise been safe, I renounce and deny you for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">All started as she uttered these words, but without heeding them she -continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"For ever. I disavow you, I forswear you as my husband. I have long -ceased to be aught to you but a wife in name; henceforth I will not be -so much as that. I have quitted your house. I quit now and part with -for so long as I shall live your name, the share in the rank that you -smirch and befoul. From to-day I will never willingly set eyes on you -again, never speak one word to you, though you lay dying at my feet, -never answer to the name of Fordingbridge. I return to what I was; I -become once more Katherine Fane."</p> - -<p class="normal">He, standing before her, moistened his lips as though about to speak, -but again she went on, taking now from off her finger the one ring -that alone she wore. Placing it on the table, she continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thus I discard you, thus I sever to all eternity the bond that binds -me to you; a bond that no priest, no Church, shall ever persuade or -force me into again recognising." And with these words she placed also -on the table the package she had brought into the room with her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There," she said, "is every trinket you have given me, except the -jewellery of your family, which you have possession of. At your own -house is every dress and robe, every garment I own that has been -bought with your money. So the severance is made. Again I say that I -renounce you and deny you. From to-day, Lord Fordingbridge, your -existence ceases for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed that she had spoken her last word. With an inclination of -her head towards those two witnesses whom she had summoned to hear her -denunciation, she moved towards the door, while they, after casting -one glance at him, the Denounced, standing there--Sir Charles Ames, -conveying in his looks all the ineffable disdain which a polished -gentleman of the world might be supposed to feel towards another who -had fallen so low, and Douglas regarding him as a man regards some -savage, ignoble beast--prepared to follow her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, at last, he found his voice--a harsh and raucous one, as though -emotion, or hate, or rage were stifling its natural tones--and -exclaimed ere they could quit the room:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay. The last word is not yet said. You, Katherine Fane, as you -elect, wisely, to call yourself henceforth, and you, her witnesses, -listen to what I have now to say. This parley, this conference, call -it what you will, may justly be completed."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused and looked at him--disdainfully, and careless as to what he -might have to say in this her final interview with him--and they, -doing as she did, paused also.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he continued, still speaking hoarsely but clearly enough:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have said, madam, that you renounce and deny me for ever; that -you are resolved never more to share my rank or title, nor again to -bear my name. Are you so certain that 'tis yours to so refuse or so -renounce at your good will and pleasure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, sir, do you mean by such questions?" asked Sir Charles Ames, -speaking now for the first time. But Lord Fordingbridge, heeding him -not, continued to address her, and now, as he spoke, he raised his -hand and pointed his finger at her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have been very scornful, very cold and disdainful since first we -came together, madam, treating me ever to your most bitter dislike, -while all the time every thought and idea of yours was given to -another man--all the time, I say, while you continued to bear the -title of the Viscountess Fordingbridge. Once more, I ask, are you so -sure that this title was yours to fling away, the husband yours to -renounce and deny in your own good pleasure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And his eyes glared at her now as he spoke, and she knew that the -devil which dwelt in him had got possession.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be more explicit," she said, "or cease to speak at all. If I could -think, if I could awake as from an evil dream and learn that I had -never been your wife, never plighted troth with you, I would upon my -knees thank God for such a mercy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Those thanks may be more due than you dream of. How if I were to tell -you----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?" fell from the lips of all, while Douglas took a step nearer to -him, and Sir Charles felt sure that in another moment they would be -told of some earlier marriage. "What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer he went on, one finger raised and pointing at her as though -to emphasize his remarks:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have taunted me often with the Jesuit education I received at St. -Omer--at Lisbon. Well, it was true: such an education I did receive at -both places. Only, madam--my Lady Fordingbridge!--Miss Fane!--have you -never heard that one so educated may, at such places, receive other -things? may become acolytes, priests? What if <i>I</i> became such? what -would you then be--a priest----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a lie!" she exclaimed, "and you know it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you so sure? Can you prove--or, rather, <i>disprove</i> it? Answer me -that--answer, if you are sure that you share my name and rank--have -power to renounce them."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he finished, Douglas sprang at him and, in spite of his drawn -sword, would have choked the life out of him on the spot had not Sir -Charles interceded, while at the same moment Kitty's voice was heard -bidding him desist.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even so," she said, "true or untrue, it is best. The infamy, if -infamy there is, must be borne. At least, I am free. Free! Am -justified after these hints!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," Lord Fordingbridge said, "you may be free. To do what, however? -To fling yourself into your lover's arms to-night--only, where will -you find him? Newgate, the Tower, the New Gaol in Southwark are full -of such as he; 'tis there, Mistress Fane, that doubtless you must seek -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And 'tis there," said Douglas Sholto, an inspiration occurring -suddenly to his mind, "that you shall join him. The King has issued -orders for every Jesuit priest to be arrested who shall be found, or -denounced, in these dominions, and, Jacobite though I am, with my life -at stake, I will drag you there with my own hands ere you shall be -suffered to escape. You have proclaimed yourself, shown us the way; by -your own lips shall you be judged."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> - -<h5>FLIGHT.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">That Douglas had spoken out of the fury of his heart and, -consequently, without thought, was, however, very apparent at once; -for when Kate had quitted the room, leaving Fordingbridge free from -the grasp of the former--since Douglas, a second after he had seized -him, flung him trembling and shivering on the couch--Sir Charles Ames -spoke and said, as he drew Sholto aside to where the other would not -hear them:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would indeed serve the scoundrel right if he were treated as you -suggest. Only, unfortunately, it is not possible. First of all, I -believe this insinuation is a lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sure of it. If he had ever been admitted a priest my brother -must have known of it, and, in any circumstances, the truth can soon -be proved by him. A letter to the head of the Jesuit College at Lisbon -from another Jesuit such as Archibald is will prove his statement to -be false."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet even," said Sir Charles, "were he a Jesuit priest and so subject -to arrest and imprisonment in this country, you would stand in far too -much danger to bring it about. Also, he can tell too much, as he would -undoubtedly do if he was himself given up. Let us consider what is -best."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I," replied Douglas, speaking in an even lower whisper, so that the -villain could not possibly hear him, "go to-night, as you know. Archie -probably to-morrow, or the next night, and Bertie is already gone. -Surely it might somehow be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impossible," replied Sir Charles, "impossible. Remember, we are in -Lady Belrose's house; we must bring no scandal upon her. No, that way -will not do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then?" asked Douglas. "What then? For I am determined that his -power of doing any harm shall be forever quenched now. We have him in -our hands, and we will hold him fast."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he glanced where the traitor sat glowering at them from -the sofa. He seemed now to be thoroughly cowed, thoroughly alarmed -also for his own safety, and his piercing black eyes scintillated and -twinkled more like the eyes of a hunted, timorous creature than those -of a man. Indeed, as Douglas looked at him, it seemed as though -Fordingbridge were really mad with terror. Yet, abject as he now was, -the other shuddered again, as he had more than once shuddered before -when speaking of or looking at the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must get him away from this house," said Sir Charles. "I will have -no disturbance here. Come, let us take him to the park. There we can -talk at freedom, and, I think, so persuade his lordship of our -intentions that henceforth he will be harmless. Do you agree?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Douglas nodded, whereon Sir Charles, advancing into the room again, -addressed Lord Fordingbridge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," he said, in his coldest, most freezing manner, "it were -best you sheathed that sword," and he pointed to it as it lay beside -him on the sofa. "Such weapons are unfitted to a lady's house, and you -may be at ease--no injury is intended you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fordingbridge gazed at him--still with the terror-stricken look in his -eyes, the glance almost of madness or, at best, of imbecility; yet he -did as the baronet bade him, and replaced his weapon. But he uttered -no word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall be obliged," continued Sir Charles, "if you will accompany -us to St. James's Park. We have something to say to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," said Fordingbridge, finding his voice at last, "you intend to -make me fight a duel with that man, I will not do it. He----</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," interrupted Douglas, "no thought of such a thing. My sword -is not made to cross one borne by you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well," replied the other meekly, "I will come." But, a moment -later, he burst out into one of his more natural methods of speaking, -and cried, "You have the whip hand of me for the moment, but we shall -see. We shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall," replied Sir Charles, calmly; "but if your lordship is now -ready we may as well depart. We have already encroached somewhat on -Lady Belrose's hospitality."</p> - -<p class="normal">The grave manservant seemed somewhat astonished, when he opened the -street door at a summons from the bell, to observe the three gentlemen -go down the steps together and enter the hackney coach which was still -waiting for the viscount. Also he was surprised--since he and all the -other servants in the house had gathered a very accurate knowledge of -what had transpired in the small saloon--to witness the courteous -manner in which Sir Charles motioned to his lordship to enter the -vehicle before him, and then entered it himself, followed by Douglas. -Next, he heard the direction given to the man to drive to St. James's -Park, and retired, wondering what it all meant. After the words he -had--by chance, of course--overheard in the room, he, too, naturally -supposed that a duel was about to be fought; but being a discreet man, -he only mentioned this surmise to his fellow-servants, and took care -not to alarm his mistress.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arrived in the park and the coach discharged by Sir Charles, who even -took so much of the ordering of these proceedings upon himself as to -pay the man the hire demanded, the former, still with exquisite -politeness, requested Fordingbridge to avail himself of a vacant bench -close by, since he and his friend, Mr. Sholto, had a few words to say -to each other before they laid their deliberations before him. And -Fordingbridge, still with the terror-stricken look upon his face and -the vacillating glance in his eyes, obeyed without a word.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the others paced up and down the path at a short distance from -him, but always keeping him well in their view, and the deliberations -mentioned by Sir Charles took some time in arriving at. But they came -to an end at last, and the baronet, drawing near to the bench where -Fordingbridge was seated, proceeded to unfold them to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," he said, speaking with great clearness and cold -distinctness, "you may perhaps think that I should have no part in -whatever has transpired between you and others. Yet I think I have. It -fell to my lot--to my extreme good fortune--to be of assistance to the -Viscountess Fordingbridge, for so I shall continue to call her in -spite of your observations and disclosures this morning, which I do -not believe. It fell to my lot, I repeat, to be of some service to her -ladyship on a certain night a week or two ago. That service was -rendered necessary by your betrayal of a cause which you had once -espoused, of a man whom you had previously injured cruelly, and of -another man, Mr. Douglas, who had never injured you. Therefore, I was -of assistance to her ladyship, who was more or less under my charge -and protection that evening, and I am glad to have been able to do -so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish," muttered Fordingbridge hoarsely, glaring at him, "that you -had been at the devil before you did so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless. But I was not. That service, however, and your visit -to-day to the house of a lady who is shortly about to honour me by -becoming my wife, justifies me, I think, in taking some part in these -proceedings, though only as spokesman. In that character I now propose -to tell you what Mr. Sholto intends to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?" gasped Fordingbridge, moistening his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," said Sir Charles, unsparingly, "when he has left the country, -which he will do almost immediately, to denounce you to His Majesty's -Government. You are pledged by every oath that can be regarded as -sacred in any cause to the House of Stuart----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No!" exclaimed Fordingbridge. "No. I am now an adherent of the House -of Hanover."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid even that will be of little avail to you. For, if you -are, you are a double traitor. It was you who planned the attack on -the 'Fubbs,' which brought the King from Herrenhausen at the outbreak -of the Scotch Invasion; you who circulated the papers offering a large -reward for his assassination; you who, but a month or so ago, brought -over with you Father Sholto, the most notorious plotter among the -Jesuits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I denounced him," whined Fordingbridge. "I denounced him. That alone -will save me from the King's anger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," replied Sir Charles, "is possible. I am willing to allow it. -But you are by your own confession a Jesuit priest, therefore you will -be subject to all the punishments and penalties now in force against -such persons. Also, you will have let loose against you the whole of -the anger of the Jesuits--should His Majesty be inclined to spare -you--when Mr. Sholto has informed them of your treachery. You, as one -yourself, can best imagine what form that anger is likely to take."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fordingbridge gasped as he stared at the baronet; and now, indeed, it -seemed as if the light of idiocy alone shone in his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," went on Sir Charles, "you have also something else to reckon -with, namely, the punishment which your brother religionists may see -fit to accord to you for having, as a priest--as you suggest -yourself--gone through the form of matrimony. I have not the honour to -be of the Romanist religion myself, therefore I do not know what shape -that punishment may take, but, from what Mr. Sholto tells me, it is -for your own sake to be hoped that you have hinted a lie and are, -indeed, no priest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me go," said Fordingbridge, "let me go." Then he muttered, -"Curses on you all. If I could kill you both as you stand there, blast -you both to death before me, I would do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without doubt," replied Sir Charles; "but if you will pardon my -saying it, your schemes for injuring others seem to fall most -extraordinarily harmless. And I trust your aspirations for our ill -will not take effect until, at least, we have had time to put some -leading Jesuits in France--if not here--in possession of your true -character."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse you both, curse you all," again muttered Fordingbridge -impotently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," continued Sir Charles, "I propose to accompany your lordship as -far as the door of your own house. Once I have seen you safe there, -care will be taken that you shall find no means of communicating in -any way with those who have it in their power to injure our friends. -When, however, they are beyond your reach you will be free from -observation, and will be quite at liberty to devote yourself to making -another peace with the Government and with the--Order of the Jesuits. -My lord, shall we now proceed to Kensington-square?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have a care," said Fordingbridge, with an evil droop of his eye at -him, "have a care, however, for yourself. If they escape me, you may -not. A harbourer of Jacobites, an abettor in their escape from England -and from justice, I may yet do you an evil turn, Sir Charles Ames."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not doubt it if you have the power. But, Lord Fordingbridge, you -have so much to think of on your own behalf, you will be so very much -occupied in you own affairs shortly--what with the State on one side -and the Church (your Church) on the other--that I am afraid you will -have but little time to devote to me. And I think, my lord, I can hold -my own against you. Now, come."</p> - -<p class="normal">Douglas shook hands with Sir Charles as they stood apart once more -from the wretched man, and after one hearty grasp strode away through -the park, leaving the other two alone. Yet he did not hesitate to -acknowledge the truth of the baronet's last whispered words to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lose no time," that gentleman said as they parted, "in putting the -sea between you and England. Also induce your brother to go at once. I -have frightened the craven cur sufficiently to keep him quiet for a -day or so--alas! mine are but idle threats. The Government must find -out his villainies for themselves, while for his Church you must put -them on the scent, but afterwards I cannot answer for what he may do. -Once he finds that they are but idle threats he may go to work again. -Begone, therefore, both of you, and let me hear when you are safe in -France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," Douglas replied; "by to-morrow, if all is well, we may -be in Calais. McGlowrie sends another vessel to-night. If possible, -Archie and I, Kate and her father, may be in it. But the day grows -late, there is much to do. Again farewell, and thanks, thanks, thanks -for all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is safe from you," said the baronet, turning, after Douglas was -gone, to Fordingbridge. "Now, my lord, I am ready."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not go with you," replied the other, some spark of manliness, -or perhaps shame, rising in his breast at the manner in which he was -dominated by this man whom, until to-day, he had never seen nor heard -of. "I will not go with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">And he drew back from him and laid his hand upon the hilt of his -sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No?" inquired Sir Charles, with his most polished air. Then he -continued: "I am sorry my enforced society should be so unwelcome." As -he spoke he glanced his eye round the grassy slopes of the park and -across the low brick wall which at that time separated it from -Piccadilly. "I regret it very much. But, my lord, I must not force -myself where I am disliked. Therefore, since I see a watchman outside -who appears to have little to occupy him, I will, with your lordship's -permission, ask him to accompany you and see you safely home. Or, -stay," and again his eye roved over the grass, "there is a sergeant's -guard passing towards Buckingham House--your lordship can see their -conical caps over the bushes--I will summon them and relieve you of my -presence, since it is so distasteful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" exclaimed Fordingbridge, "if ever the time should come--if ever -the chance is mine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not at present," replied the baronet. Then, with an air of -determination which until now he had not assumed, he stamped his foot -angrily and exclaimed: "Come, sir, I will be trifled with no longer. -Either with me, or the watch, or the soldiers. But at once. At once, I -say!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And Fordingbridge, knowing he was beaten, went with him.</p> - -<p class="normal">A coach was found at the park wicket, into which they entered and -proceeded to Kensington, no word being uttered by either during the -drive. Then, when they had arrived outside Fordingbridge's house, Sir -Charles, with a relaxation of the courteous manner that he had -previously treated the other to, said, coldly and briefly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember, for two days you will have no opportunity of injuring -anyone. That I shall take steps to prevent. Afterwards, you will have -sufficient occupation in consulting your own welfare," and, raising -his three-cornered hat an inch, he entered the coach again. Only, he -thought it well to say to the driver in a clear, audible voice which -the other could not fail to hear:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Drive to Kensington Palace now; I have business with the officer of -the guard."</p> - -<p class="normal">With those terrifying words ringing in his ears--for Fordingbridge -knew how, at that time, soldiers quartered in the neighbourhood of -suspected persons acted as police act in these days, and were employed -often to make arrests of persons implicated with the State--he entered -his house, locking himself in with a key he carried. Then he proceeded -at once to ring the bells and shout for the deaf old servitor, Luke, -but without effect. There was no response to the noise he made, no -sound of the old man's heavy, shuffling feet, and he began to wonder -if he, too, had taken flight like the rest of the servants. Yet, even -if he had, his master meditated, it would matter very little now. He -was himself about to take flight. London was too hot to hold him.</p> - -<p class="normal">A coward ever from his infancy, there could have been no better plan -devised to frighten this man from doing more harm to those whom he -wished to injure than the one adopted by Sir Charles Ames; while the -latter's statement that he had business with the officer of the guard -at Kensington Palace was the culminating point to the other's fears. -Moreover--although his mind appeared to him to be strangely hazy and -distraught now, and unable to retain the sequence of that day's -events--he recognised the fearful weapon he had drawn against himself -in suggesting that he was a Jesuit priest. Upon that statement, -testified to by Sir Charles, a man of responsible position, he would -certainly be arrested at once; while, if proof could be obtained that -he was in truth a priest, or had ever been trained to be one, the most -terrible future would lie before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he thought of all this in a wandering, semi-vacant manner, he set -about doing that which, since the interview in the park, he had made -up his mind to do. He would fly from England, he would return to -France. Yet, he reflected, if in France, Paris would still be closed -to him. There the Jesuits were in possession of terrible authority, -although an authority not recognised by the Government; if they knew -what he had done, even in only betraying Archibald Sholto to the -English authorities, their vengeance on him would be sharp, swift, -terrible. And in Paris also--he could not doubt it--would soon be -Bertie Elphinston and Douglas, even Archibald himself. No, it must not -be Paris. Not yet at least!</p> - -<p class="normal">But he must be somewhere out of London, out of England, and he set to -work--still in a dazed, stupefied manner--to make his plans.</p> - -<p class="normal">He went first to his own bedroom, to which was attached a small toilet -or dressing-room, and, unlocking an iron-bound strong box, took from -it some money--a small casket of Louis d'ors and English guineas, a -leather case stuffed full of bills of exchange and several notes, -among them a large one drawn by a Parisian money-lender on a London -goldsmith. Then, next, he opened a false tray, or bottom, in the -strong box, and from it took out several shagreen cases which he -slipped into his pocket. These contained all his family jewels.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet the man's fear was so great that he might even by now have been -denounced by Sir Charles Ames to the officer of the guard at -Kensington Palace, that more than once he rose from the box and, on -hearing any slight noise in the square, ran to the window and peered -out of it and down into the road, and then came back to his task of -packing up his valuables. And all the while as he did so he muttered -to himself continually:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The notary must see to all--I will write to him from France. He had -best sell all and remit the money. England is done with! Neither -Hanoverian nor Jacobite now. Curse them both and all." Then he -laughed, a little sniggering, feeble laugh--it was wondrous that, in -the state his mind was and with the ruin which was upon him, he could -have been moved by such a trifle!--and chuckled to himself and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If Luke comes back now he will find the door barred forever. A -faithful servant! A faithful servant! Well, his home is gone. Let him -go drown himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">He fetched next all the silver which he could find about the house, -and which had been brought forth on his return from the coffers -where it had lain since his father's flight into France years -ago--candelabras, old dishes and baskets and a coffee pot, with a -tankard or so--and hurled them into the strong box and locked it -securely.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after once more peering into the square and seeing that all was -clear, he descended to the hall, opened the door an inch or two and -again glanced his eye round, and, a moment later, drew the door to and -went forth into the night.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> - -<h5>UNITED.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">All through Picardy, from Artois to the Ile de France, from Normandy -to Champagne, the wheat was a-ripening early that year, the trees in -the orchards and gardens of the rich, fruitful province had their -boughs bent to the earth with their loads, and, so great was the -summer heat, the cattle stood in the rivers and pools for coolness, or -sought shelter under the elms and poplars dotted about by the river's -banks.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, heat notwithstanding, the great bare road that runs from Calais -through Boulogne, Abbeville, and Amiens, as well as through Clermont -and Chantilly and St. Denis to Paris, had still its continuous traffic -to which neither summer nor winter made much difference, except when -the snows of the latter belated many diligences and waggons--for it -was the high road between the coast and the capital. And thus it was -now, in this hot, broiling June of 1746. Along that road, passing each -other sometimes, sometimes breaking down, sometimes, by the -carelessness of drunken drivers or postillions, getting their wheels -into ditches and sticking there for hours, went almost every vehicle -that was known in the France of those days. Monseigneur's carriage, -drawn by four or six stout travelling roadsters--wrenched for the -occasion from the service of Monseigneur's starving tenants--and -with Monseigneur within it looking ineffably bored at the heat and -the dust and the inferior <i>canaille</i> who obtruded themselves on his -vision--would lumber by the diligence, or Royal Post, farmed from -Louis the well-beloved--so, loved, perhaps, because he despised his -people and said France would last his time, which was long enough!--or -be passed by a <i>desobligéant</i>, or chaise for one person, or by a fat -priest on a post-horse, or by a travelling carriage full of -provincials <i>en route</i> for Paris. Also, to add to the continuous -traffic on this road in that period, were <i>berlins à quatre chevaux</i>, -carriers' waggons loaded with merchandise either from or to England, -countless horsemen civil and military, and innumerable pedestrians, -since the accomplishment of long journeys on foot, with a wallet slung -on the back, was then one of the most ordinary methods of travelling -amongst the humbler classes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Seated in the <i>banquette</i>, or hooded seat, attached to the back of the -diligence from Calais to Amiens, on one of these broiling days in June -of 1746, were Kate Fane--as now she alone would describe herself or -allow herself to be styled--and her father. They had crossed from -England in the ordinary packet-boat a day or two before, and were at -this moment between Abbeville and Amiens, at which latter place they -proposed to remain for the present at least. To look at her none -would have supposed that, not more than a week or two before, this -golden-haired girl, now dressed in a plain-checked chintz, with, to -protect her head from the heat, a large flapping straw hat, had been -discarded by the man whom she had imagined to be her husband; had been -told that she was, possibly, no lawful wife. For she looked happier, -brighter at this time than she had ever done since she went through -a form of marriage with the Viscount Fordingbridge, because--though -not in the way that he had falsely insinuated--she was free of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What was it Archie said to ye?" asked her father as the diligence -toiled up a small hill, the road of which was shaded by trees from the -burning sun. "What was it he said to ye in the letter you got at -Calais? Tell me again; I like not to think that my daughter has been -flouted and smirched by such a scoundrel as that. Lawfully married, -humph! Lawfully married, he said, eh?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lawfully married enough, father," Kate replied. "Lawfully enough to -tie me to him for ever as his wife. But," she went on, "lawful or not -lawful, nothing shall ever induce me to see him, to speak with him -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Read me the letter," said Fane; "let me hear all about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," answered his daughter, "time enough when we get to Amiens, -when we shall all meet again. Oh, the joyful day! The blessed chance! -To think that to-night we shall all of us be together once more! All! -all! Just as we used to be in the happy old times in the Trousse -Vache," and she busied herself with taking a little wine and water -from a basket she had with her, and a bunch of grapes and some chipped -bread, and ministering to the old man.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, as you may gather from her words, those who had been in such peril -in England were back safe in France. Bertie Elphinston had crossed, -disguised, of course, as a drover, unmolested by "infernal sloops o' -war and bomb-ketches"--to use honest McGlowrie's words--or anything -else. And, also, the Sholtos had come in the same way, finding, -indeed, so little let or hindrance in either the river or on the sea, -that they began to think the English King's rage and hate against all -who had taken part in the late rebellion were slacked at last. They -were, in truth, not nearly glutted yet, and the safe, undisturbed -passage which they had been fortunate enough to make was due to that -strange chance which so often preserves those who are in greatest -danger.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, they were over, no matter how or by what good fortune, and that -night--that afternoon, in another hour's time--all would meet at the -Inn, <i>La Croix Blanche</i>, in Amiens.</p> - -<p class="normal">At Calais Kate had learned the welcome tidings; a letter had been -given into her hands by no less a person than the great Dessein -himself--hotel-keeper, <i>marchand-de-vin</i>, job-master, and letter of -coaches, chaises, and post-horses, and plunderer of travellers -generally!--and in it was news from Father Sholto, as he might safely -be called here in France, and from Bertie and Douglas.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sholto's letter told her all she desired to know, viz., that -Fordingbridge's suggestion of his being a priest was a lie, "the -particulars of which," the Jesuit wrote, "I will give you at Amiens -when we meet." Bertie's, on the other hand, told her--manfully and, of -course, as a woman would think, selfishly--that he regretted that it -was an implied lie. "Because," wrote he, "had it been the truth, we -might have become man and wife within twenty-four hours of meeting, -and now we are as far apart as ever." Some other details were also -given, such as that Father Sholto was in residence for the time being -at the Jesuit College, and that Bertie had rejoined his regiment and -was now on duty at the Citadel. Douglas was at the <i>Croix Blanche</i>, -and would take care that suitable rooms were kept for them, though, -since it happened to be the great summer fair-time, the city was full -of all kinds of people, and rooms in fierce demand at every hostelry.</p> - -<p class="normal">These letters, received by Kate as they landed from the packet-boat in -the canal at Calais, were sufficient to prompt her to lose no time in -hastening onward--north. The diligence, she found, left the hospitable -doors of Monsieur Dessein at five o'clock on summer mornings, and did -the distance of sixty miles to Amiens in eleven hours, which Dessein -spoke of approvingly--and falsely--as being the fastest possible. -Still they could not afford anything that was faster--for they had -little money in their purse these days. Therefore, at dawn, they -clambered into the <i>banquette</i>, which happened to be vacant, and set -out upon their road.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, as the diligence skirted the river Somme, and drew near to -Picquigny, the towers of the cathedral <i>Nôtre Dame d'Amiens</i> came into -sight, and the ramparts of the city. And, because it was fair-time, -the roads were full of people of all kinds streaming towards it; of -market people, with their wares, and waggons of fruit and vegetables, -and poultry, of saltimbanques and strolling actors, strong men, fat -women, dwarfs, and giants--since in those days fairs were not much -different from what they are now, only the play was a little rougher -and the speech a little coarser even among the lowest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, amidst the ringing of the cathedral bells, as well as -those of the Collegiate Church and Amiens' fourteen parish churches, -the diligence arrived at last, and only one hour late, at the office -of the <i>Poste du Roi</i>, and there, walking up and down in front of it, -were Bertie and Douglas, both in their uniforms, and waiting for them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How did you know, Mr. Elphinston," Kate asked, glad of the bustle and -confusion in the streets caused by the fair and by the arrival of the -diligence, "that we should come to-day? We might not have crossed from -England for another week--nay, another month, for the matter of that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We should have been here all the same," Bertie replied. "I am not on -duty at this time in the day, and Douglas would have come every -afternoon. We have watched the arrival of the diligence, Kate, for the -last week--since--ever since you wrote to say you were about to set -out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not know I told Archie that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, but you told me. Have you forgotten all you wrote to me, Kate?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, in a low voice, and with her soft blush. "Yet, -remember, Ber----Mr. Elphinston--we are as far apart as ever. Archie -says I am, in truth, that man's wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I remember," he replied; "I must remember," and he led the way into -the inn, which was close by the <i>Poste du Roi</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young men had been fortunate enough to secure a room for -themselves and the new arrivals, where they could sit as well as take -their meals apart, in spite of the inn being crowded. Nay, those who -crowded it now were scarcely of the class who require sitting-rooms, -nor, in some cases, bedrooms even; many of them being very well -satisfied to lie down and take their rest in the straw of the stables. -For among the customers of <i>La Croix Blanche</i> were horse-dealers from -Normandy and from Flanders; the performers at the booths, the -strolling actors, mendicant friars--if friars they were!--vendors of -quack medicines, and all the <i>olla-podrida</i> that went to make up a -French fair. These cared not where they slept, while of those who -sought bedrooms there were <i>commis voyageurs</i>, ruffling gentlemen of -the road, bedizened with tawdry lace, and with red, inflamed faces -beneath their bag-wigs <i>à la pigeon</i>--on whom the local watch kept -wary eyes--large purchasers of woollen ribbons and ferrets, serges, -stuffs, and black and green soap for the Paris market, in the -production of all of which things Amiens has ever been famous, as well -as for its <i>pâti de canard</i>. Nor did any of these people require -private rooms for the consumption of their food, but, instead, ate -together at the ordinary, or fed in the kitchen among the scullions -and their pots and pans.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore, undisturbed, or disturbed only by the cries that arose from -below, as evening came on and the guests' table became crowded, -Douglas and Bertie ministered to the wants of Kate and her father, and -compared notes of the passages they had made across from England. Also -they spoke of their future, Kate's being that which needed the most -discussion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Prince Edward is safe," said Bertie, "of this there is no doubt. He -is known by those of this country, though by none in England, to be -secure with Cluny in the mountain of Letternilichk, near Moidart. Off -Moidart is the 'Bellona,' a Nantes privateer, with three hundred and -forty men on board, and well armed. She will get him away, in spite of -Lestock's squadron, which is hovering about between Scotland and -Brittany. Now, Kate, when he arrives in Paris, as he will do shortly, -his household will be a pleasant one. Your place must be there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the household of the prince!" exclaimed Kate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! in the household of the prince. Nay, never fear. You will not be -the only woman. The Ladies Elcho and Ogilvie will be with you; also -old Lady Lochiel. Oh, you will be a bonnie party! While, as for Mr. -Fane, some place must also be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who is to find these places?" she asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Archie," replied Douglas. "He has interest enough with Tencin to do -anything. Indeed, from finding a post at court to obtaining a <i>lettre -de cachet</i>, he can do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," said Bertie to him aside, noticing that he turned pale as he -spoke, "did you shiver then, Douglas, as I have seen you do before -now? You do not fear a <i>lettre de cachet</i> for Vincennes or the -Bastille--and--and--we are not talking of the man at whose name I have -seen you shiver before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I do not know," his companion replied. "It must be that I am fey, -or a fool, or both. Yet, last night I dreamt that Archie was asking -the minister for a <i>lettre de cachet</i> to consign someone--I know not -whom--to the Bastille, and--and--I woke up shivering as I did just -now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It could not be for you, at least," answered the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," replied Douglas, moodily, "for someone who had injured me. -Who knows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever reply his stronger-minded friend might have made to this -gloomy supposition, which was by no means the first he had known -Douglas to be subjected to, was not uttered since at that moment -Archibald Sholto himself entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">His greetings to Kate were warm and, at the same time, brotherly. He, -too, remembered how for years the little party assembled now in <i>La -Croix Blanche</i> had all been as though one family; he remembered the -black spot that had come amongst them; that to Fordingbridge, whom he -himself had introduced into Fane's house, was owing most, if not all, -of the evil that had befallen them. Also he recalled that, but for -Fordingbridge's treachery, neither he, nor Bertie, nor Douglas would -have been forced to flee out of England for their lives; that Kate -would never have forfeited her position nor have had the foul yet -guarded suggestion hurled against her that she was no wife, but only a -priest's mistress. Then, when their first welcomes and salutations -were over, he spoke aloud to her on the subject that, above all, -engrossed their minds.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kitty," he said, "is Fordingbridge gone mad? For to madness alone can -such conduct as his be attributed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not know," she replied. "I cannot say. All I know is that he is -a villain and a traitor--that I have done with him for ever. Yet he -must be mad when he throws out so extraordinary a hint as that he is a -priest. He could not have been a priest, and you not know it--could -he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Up from the guests' room below there came the hubbub of those at -supper, the shouts of the copper captains for more petits pigolets of -wine, mixed with the clattering of plates and dishes, the calls of -other travellers for food, and the general disturbance that -accompanies a French inn full of visitors, as Father Sholto answered -gravely:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My child, he might have been a priest and I not know it; God might -even have allowed so wicked a scheme to enter his heart as that, being -one, he should go through a form of marriage with an innocent woman. -But, my dear, one thing is still certain, he was not, is not, a -priest--I know it now beyond all doubt; you are as lawfully his wife -as it is possible for you to be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What--what, then, was the use of such a statement, such a lie, added -to all the others which--God forgive him!--he has already told since -first he darkened our door?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The gratification of his hate, his revenge against you and all of us. -He hated you because you had never loved him, and had at last come to -despise him; he hated Bertie because you had always loved him" (as he -spoke, the eyes of those two met in one swift glance, and then were -quickly lowered to the table at which they sat); "he hated me because -I knew him. And, remember, until he had put himself in the power of -Douglas and Sir Charles Ames by insinuating himself to be what he was -not--a priest--he thought that I should soon be removed from his path -for ever. Once in the power of the English Government, my tongue would -have been silenced; it would have been hard to prove, perhaps, that he -was not a priest; that you were a lawful married woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, surely, it could have been proved in some way. And--and--of what -avail such a lie to him? Knowing he is not a priest, he would not have -dared to take another wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," replied Sholto, "he had no desire to take another. If he is -not mad, he had but one wish, to outrage and insult you, and thereby -avenge himself upon you. Moreover, he must have some feelings still -left in him--your very renunciation of him may have led to his denial -of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How have you found for certain that he is no priest?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the easiest manner. A letter to the 'General' at Rome, another to -the 'Provincial' at Lisbon, and, lo! a reply from each to the effect -that neither under the name of Simeon Larpent nor the title of -Viscount Fordingbridge had anyone been ever admitted to the Society of -Jesus. At St. Omer, I knew, of course, such a thing could not have -happened; nay, I knew more: I knew that neither as novice nor acolyte, -even, had Fordingbridge ever been admitted, nor had he submitted to -any of those severe examinations which all must pass through ere they -can become these alone. As for priest--well, it was impossible, -impossible that he could be one and I not know it, never have heard of -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Kate," whispered Bertie to her, "you are still Lady -Fordingbridge. As far apart as ever--as far apart as ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely," said she to him, as now they talked alone and outside the -general conversation that was going on, "surely it is better so. I -have renounced him, it is true; willingly I will never see nor speak -to him again; he and I are sundered for ever. Yet--yet--Bertie," and -for the first time now, after so long, she called him frankly by the -old, familiar name, "I could never have come to you had I been that -other thing. You could not have taken such as I should have been for -your wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked at her, but answered no word. Then he sighed and turned -away.</p> - -<p class="normal">They sat far into the evening talking and making plans, while still, -through the warm summer night, the noise of the crowded city came in -at their windows and nearly deafened them. And this is what they -decided upon for the future.</p> - -<p class="normal">The troop to which Bertie Elphinston belonged in the Regiment of -Picardy would be removed, later on, to quarters at St. Denis, and at -about the same time Douglas would rejoin his regiment in Paris, while -his brother Archibald was about to depart for St. Omer, where he -should remain for some time. He had, he said, nothing more to do now -in the world, since the restoration he had hoped so much from had -failed altogether. Therefore, because at present there was no need for -Kate to go to Paris, and because, also, her father became more and -more ailing every day, they decided to remain at Amiens, to live -quietly there in lodgings, and to have at least the friendship of the -two young men to cheer them. There was still a little money left from -the sale of Doyle Fane's fencing school in Paris--indeed, it had never -been touched since Kate's marriage--which would suffice for their -wants, especially since Amiens was cheaper than Paris to reside in. -Then, when the time came, they would all move on to the capital, and -there, as they told each other, try to forget the black, bitter year -which had come and separated them all from the happy life they had -once led together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only," said Bertie once again that night to her, ere he went back to -the Citadel, "only, still we are parted; the gulf is ever between us. -O Kate, Kate! if it were not for that."</p> - -<p class="normal">And once more for reply she whispered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis better so, better than if it had been as he, that other, said. -At least I am honest; if--if freedom ever comes, no need for you to -blush for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," he said, "none could do that, knowing all. For myself, Kate, I -would it had been as the wretch said. Then the bar would not be -there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the blot would."</p> - -<p class="normal">With which words she left him and the others, going with her father to -the rooms prepared for them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile, as now the full night was upon them, the hubbub and the -uproar grew greater in the inn. Back from the booths and open-air -theatres came the mummers and the mountebanks, the mendicant friars -with their pills and potions, balsams, styptics, and ointments, the -Norman and Flemish horse dealers--the latter drunk and shouting for -more drink--and all the rest. And they distributed themselves about -the <i>Croix Blanche</i>, as, indeed, they were doing in every other -hostelry in Amiens, and laughed and shrieked and howled and cursed as -they sought their beds in the straw or the garrets, and turned the -ancient city into a veritable pandemonium.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will walk with you a part of the way," said Douglas to his brother -and Bertie as they rose to depart. "This narrow street is hot and -stuffy, especially with the fumes that arise from the revellers below. -The night air will be cool and refreshing before sleep."</p> - -<p class="normal">And buckling on his sword he went down with them, and out through the -still crowded inn yard.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the Jesuit College he parted with Archibald, and went on a little -farther with Bertie, and then, saying that he was refreshed with the -coolness, bade him also good-night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is good for us all to be together again, Bertie, boy, is it not?" -he exclaimed as they shook each other by the hand; "good to think -that, with but a few intervals of separation when on service, we shall -scarcely ever be parted more. Nothing is wanting now but that you and -Kate could come together lawfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," replied the other, "seems never likely to be permitted to us. -Well, we must bear it, hard as it is. Yet, Douglas, I am as honestly -glad as you can be that we are safe back in France with all our -troubles over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied Douglas, "with our troubles over. Yet I wonder where -that rogue ingrain, Fordingbridge, is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was soon to know.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> - -<h5>"TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Some of those who came to Amiens as attendants upon the fair had not -yet sought their beds, whether in the straw of the stables, on the -brick floors of the kitchens, or in the sweltering garrets under the -red-tiled roofs. Night birds, however, were most of these, creatures -who found their account in roaming the streets, seeking whom they -might devour. Night birds, such as the bellowing, red-faced bullies -who had been shouting all day for drink and food in the <i>Croix -Blanche</i>, and who, managing to keep sober in spite of all their -potations, sallied forth at midnight. For it was then their work -began. Then horse dealers, merchants, buyers, dissolute members of the -local <i>bourgeoisie</i> and the <i>petite noblesse</i>, making their way to -their lodgings or houses, found themselves suddenly seized by the -throat or from behind, and their watches, trinkets and rings taken -from them and their purses cut--nay, might deem themselves fortunate -if their throats were not cut too.</p> - -<p class="normal">Once or twice men of this stamp passed Douglas after he had quitted -his friend--fellows in soiled finery with great swords by their sides, -and with their huge hats drawn down over their faces--who looked at -him askance, seeing his sword also by his side and noting his -well-knit form and military bearing. But, as they observed his glance -fixed keenly on them and his hand ready enough to his weapon, they -passed on with a surly "Good-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">Making his way back to the inn, Douglas came to a sudden halt as he -arrived under the <i>Beau Dieu</i> on the pillar of the great west doorway -of <i>Nôtre Dame d'Amiens</i>, for, in the open space in front of that -entrance he saw two of these very night birds standing, evidently, as -he supposed at first, planning and concocting some villainy. Regarding -them from behind a buttress of that old cathedral of Robert de -Luzarches, he could observe them and all their movements plainly -enough, since the full moon was high in the heavens by now; and, -although the towers obscured somewhat the light, a great stream of it -poured down into the place before the west doorway and with its rays -illuminated the space.</p> - -<p class="normal">Great brawny fellows they were, he could see; good types of the half -swashbuckler, half highwayman, of the period--the class of men who -would be found one day fighting as mercenaries at Placentia or -Raucoux, another robbing a church or some lonely grange, another hung -or broken on the wheel, or swinging in chains on a gibbet on some -heath or by the seashore.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Firmin!" he heard one say to the other, while he balanced -something in his hand which sparkled in the moonlight as he gazed down -at it, "who would have thought the scarecrow had such valuables upon -him? <i>Regardez moi ça!</i>" and again he moved what he had in his hand, -so that it glittered as though on fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis enough," replied the other, "we have done well this fairing. Now -for Paris and <i>vogue la galère!</i> We have the wherewithal to amuse -ourselves for a year. Come, let us ride to-night; to-morrow he may -raise a hue and cry. Come, the horses are outside; the gates do not -shut till midnight. Hark! it wants but a quarter," he broke off as the -big clock above them boomed out that hour. "Come," and clasping his -companion's arm they disappeared round the other side of the -cathedral.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first impulse of Douglas was to seize these men, if possible; -the next, since they were two to one, to follow them to the gate and -there to call on the watchman to prevent their exit. And knowing that -some robbery had been committed, perhaps some murder--as was very -likely--he was about to put this idea in practice when his action was -arrested by what startled him far more than the sight of the two -scoundrels regarding their stolen wealth had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">That which so startled him was a man's form creeping up behind him in -the shadow of the cathedral, a man who had come so near to him without -his knowing it that, as Douglas turned and faced him, he sprang out at -him and endeavoured to seize him by the throat. And as he did so he -shrieked out, "Villain, thief, give me back my property! Give it back, -I say, or," and he hissed the words out, "I will kill you! See, I am -armed: you have left me this," and he brandished a long knife that -shone in the moonlight--into which Douglas had now dragged him--as the -jewels had heretofore shone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of the man himself, nor of his dagger, Douglas had no fear; he was -stronger than his antagonist, and his hand held the other's, which -grasped the weapon, as in a vice. But what appalled, almost unnerved -him, was that he knew the voice--and he knew the man. It was -Fordingbridge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You fool!" he cried, "do you not know me? I am Douglas Sholto," and -as he said the words he felt the other's hold relax, felt him -disengage himself and stagger back against the wall of the cathedral, -where, the moon lighting up his pale, cadaverous face, he stood -gasping and glaring at him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Douglas Sholto!" he muttered, whispering to himself, "Douglas Sholto -here? So, you herd with thieves and robbers, do you? Where are they -gone, those others? Where, where, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the gates, I imagine. Beyond them by now," for as he spoke the -hour boomed forth from the clock in the tower above, and was repeated -by all the other clocks in the city. "Your property, Lord -Fordingbridge, is gone. I cannot say that I am sorry for it, though, -had you not come when you did, I was about to follow the men who -robbed you and have them stopped at the gate. Now, knowing whom they -have despoiled, I can only say I rejoice that for once you have met -with scoundrels as great as yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Glowering, staring at him intently, the other leaned back against the -cathedral, while from his eyes there shone a light which looked like -the light of madness. Nay, in that moment Douglas decided in his own -mind that he was mad. Still, so great a villain did he know -Fordingbridge to be, that, gentle as he was to all others, he could -feel no pity towards him. Instead, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, my lord, not content with having nearly sacrificed our lives in -England, you have tracked us all to this place, doubtless in -furtherance of some scheme of your own, though what it is I cannot -even guess. You can harm no one here. Your spite----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is false," said Fordingbridge; "I have done no such thing. I am -myself on the road to Paris"--he did not say that he was a fugitive -from England--"and I have been robbed of all--jewels, money, bills."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Paris!" echoed Douglas. "I am afraid you will scarcely be welcome -there. The base hint you gave about being a priest will surely lead -you into trouble--for it is a lie, as my brother has discovered," and -he saw the other start at his words. But he went on: "Moreover, there -are many ardent adherents of the Stuart cause in Paris. How do you -imagine they will receive the intelligence that you, a supposed -adherent yourself, endeavoured to betray three others to their doom in -London? Lord Fordingbridge, take my advice, do not go to Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, he had no intention of going to Paris, as has been already -told. After much deliberation, when he stole away from his house at -Kensington, and during the time occupied in escaping to France, he had -been meditating much upon where he should live, where go to until the -trouble he had brought upon himself by his own evil actions should -have blown over. Money he did not want, having a large sum in France -that had been invested by his father, as well as that which he could -procure from his property in England, and so, at last, he decided that -he would for some time at least take up his abode at Amiens. There he -was comparatively near Paris if he wished at any time to visit the -capital, and at the same time he was but a day's journey to the -seaports of Calais and Boulogne, should he find it necessary at any -time to quit France suddenly. Full of these ideas, and certain that it -would not be long before he could either return to England or take up -his position in Paris, he had come on to Amiens and was now staying -at a larger inn than the <i>Croix Blanche</i> under the name of Mr. -Chester--which had been his mother's.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had come out that night, partly driven forth by the shouts and -carousings that were going on in his own hostelry in the same manner -that they were in all the others in the city, and which, with his -brain in the state it had been for some time now, were maddening to -him. And partly, also, he had been driven forth by discovering that a -large group of English visitors had arrived during the afternoon, the -very sight of whom was terrifying to him, since amongst them were one -or two young men of fashion whom he had more than once met at King -George's levees. Therefore, he had determined to wander about the city -until it was time to go to bed, and then to return and keep his room -until the English party had gone on to Paris the next morning and the -hubbub of the fair was over. But near the cathedral he had been -attacked and robbed of his money and trinkets--which, for precaution, -as he imagined, he had kept on his person--and in endeavouring to -follow the thieves he had stumbled on Douglas Sholto.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one would know that I was in Paris," he said, with a cunning leer -in his eyes, as he answered the other's remark. "No one, no one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On the contrary," replied Douglas, "everyone would know--Bertie, my -brother, your wife, all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the other leered at him with so sidelong a glance, with such a -snake-like look, that Douglas, remembering how Archibald had said that -night that he must be mad, began to feel sure that he was, indeed, in -the presence of a demoniac--a creature whose pursuit of evil had -turned his brain. And again, for some reason, the young man shuddered -violently as he looked at him, as he had shuddered more than once -before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," hissed Fordingbridge, glinting his eyes round the open space in -front of the great cathedral, which, with the exception of the spot -where they stood, close up by the door, was now bathed in moonlight. -"No; they do not know, they will never know. They think I am still in -England; that I shall not leave it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed! Will they think so to-morrow when I tell them I have met you -to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell them to-morrow! To-morrow?" he whispered. "How can you do that, -Douglas Sholto?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very easily. They are all here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here!" He almost screamed the word "here," and his eyes roved round -the place as though he thought they might be hiding behind some -buttress, or pillar, ready to spring out on him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, here. One, who seeks for you ever, at the Citadel, another at the -Jesuits' College, and your wife at an inn in the town."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fordingbridge reeled back against the cathedral walls once more as he -heard this unexpected disclosure--he had until now imagined that -Douglas was alone in Amiens; and there he stood absolutely paralysed -with apprehension. In Amiens! The very place he had selected for a -refuge. In Amiens. They would know all to-morrow, all. And he would be -brought face to face with Elphinston, who would slay him, he never -doubted; with Archibald Sholto, who would denounce him to the -Jacobites, of whom there were many in this city as well as Paris; to -the Church, which he had slandered by falsely stating himself to be -one of its priests. A Church which, he knew--had reason enough to -know--was sufficiently powerful to resent any affront to it; a Church -which--though the Inquisition had no foothold in France--could make -its vengeance felt. And he remembered he had bound himself to that -Church by many oaths to further the Stuart cause in England, and had -ended by denouncing three of its most active partisans! No need for -Elphinston to force him to fight; no need for the Jacobites to take -vengeance on him for his treachery; Archibald Sholto would see that -the punishment was accorded.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he stood there, while Douglas remained regarding him, he thought it -all out as well as his disordered mind would permit; remembered that -but for the hated form of the man before him they would never know he -was in France. And if they never knew, then he might remain in peace -until things could be smoothed over in England. But could they be so -smoothed? He must know that first.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You drove me out of England," he said, or rather whined; "now you -would drive me out of France"; and he folded his hands across his -breast as he spoke, and stood shaking before the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your own cowardice, your own wickedness, drove you out," replied -Douglas. "Nought else. And, Lord Fordingbridge, because I would not -have you regard us upon the same bad level as yourself, let me tell -you this: None of us are spies, denouncers, informers. None. We do not -shift from white to black cockade to save our necks nor to gratify a -base hatred. You were not denounced by us to the English Government -even after your execrable lies at Lady Belrose's; we but frightened -you into silence till we had time to quit England ourselves. You have -been terrified by a bugbear--by your own evil nature."</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas! poor Douglas. He was no match for this crafty, frenzied villain. -He told more than he should. He showed Fordingbridge that England was -still open to him; he presented him with the knowledge that, besides -himself, there was no one knew of his presence in France.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment the wretch had grasped this fact; in another he had -resolved on what he would do. His glittering eye still upon Douglas, -who stood there calmly contemptuous, his left hand idly resting on his -sword hilt, and his right in the lace of his ruffles, he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is this true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer Douglas shrugged his shoulders and replied, "All men are -not born liars."</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas! poor Douglas. Unready as he was, he had no time to save himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a harsh, raucous cry the other sprang at him; the knife, which he -had held hidden in his sleeve so long, gleamed in the moonlight; a -moment later and it was buried in Douglas's bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," said the assassin, "in this way I am free of France too."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he struck the unhappy man the latter reeled back three paces and -then fell prone in the full blaze of the moonlight, while the -murderer, with a hurried glance round, prepared to skulk away in the -deep shadow thrown by the cathedral walls on a side street. Yet, as -though the horror of the deed he had done were not enough for him to -carry away, he knew that it had been observed.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he turned to fly, he saw looking at him from a window in a darkened -room the white face of a woman distorted with terror; a face from -which the eyes seemed starting. And, as he crept by the buttress in -the shadow, he also saw her raise her finger and point as though -denouncing him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> - -<h5>GASCONISM.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The summer waned, the autumn came, and poor, gentle Douglas lay in his -grave, but still his murderer had never been discovered.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet in connection with that murderer, or rather in connection with the -murder itself, some extraordinary facts had been forthcoming which, -after all, but served to surround it more and more with mystery. These -you shall hear.</p> - -<p class="normal">When that white-faced woman, whose threatening finger had pointed at -the assassin as he fled, recovered from her horror--she was but a poor -concierge who had happened to be seeking her bed--she rushed forth -into the open place where Douglas's body lay, and there, with wild and -piercing shrieks, awakened all who dwelt round the cathedral. At first -she conveyed to those who hurried to the spot the idea that it was she -who was the shedder of blood, for, as she threw herself down by the -victim's side to see if any spark of life remained, her own white -night garments became stained with the dreadful fluid, so that those -hurrying to the scene imagined that they saw a guilty woman screaming -over her own evil deed.</p> - -<p class="normal">But as she grew more composed she was able to tell her tale -coherently; to relate how, in curiosity, she had stood watching those -two conversing there; how she had seen the blow struck, and the -murderer flee into the darkness. She was very poor, she said, every -sou was worth taking account of; therefore, on moonlight nights, she -sought her bed without candlelight. Yet now she bemoaned her thrift, -for had she but burnt a light it might have alarmed the assassin--have -saved the unhappy victim.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But <i>mort de ma vie!</i>" exclaimed the chief of the watch, who by this -time had arrived with two or three of his subordinates, "why not rush -out and follow the man; why not at least open the window and scream? -<i>Peste!</i> you women can do that if a mouse scampers across the floor or -your husband reproves you, yet, behold! when a man is done to death -you hold your tongue."</p> - -<p class="normal">The poor affrighted creature, still whimpering and shivering, -explained that she had no thought of murder being about to be done; -she had supposed they were two friends parting for the night; there -was no sign of argument or quarrel, and, when the deed was done, she -thought she had swooned for a moment or so. She could say no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste!</i>" again exclaimed the chief of the watch--a tetchy man given -to examining all kinds of characters from midnight revellers and -wassailers to housebreakers and worse, "why not do something better -than swoon? And I'll be sworn, too, that you would not know the fellow -again even though he came back this instant itself."</p> - -<p class="normal">But to this the woman protested her dissent. She would know him again -anywhere, at once or at a long interval, adding with a shudder that -"for ever and as long as she should live, his features were stamped -into her memory."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What was he like, then?" asked the chief, "how clad?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fairly tall," she replied, "though not so tall, I think, as <i>that</i>," -and she glanced at poor Douglas's body lying in the centre of the -crowd that surrounded it. The chief of the watch, and a doctor who had -come from out a house near, had examined it at once on their arrival, -and, alas! there was no life left in it. The gentle spirit had flown.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also," she went on, "the assassin was very dark, his eyes of a -piercing nature, his face white as a corpse--as <i>that</i>," and again she -glanced at the dead man; "but the whiteness might be from horror, <i>mon -Dieu!</i> it was a terrible face, the face of a devil, terror-stricken; -the face of a fiend. But no remorse, oh, no! only fear--it might be of -himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And his clothes?" asked the chief. "What of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sombre, dark. All dark. Scarce any lace at sleeves or breast, neither -aigrette nor cockade, nor galloon to his hat; no sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a bully, then, nor <i>filou?</i> No appearance of a knight of the -road? Hein?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the woman replied, "no." Then, reflectively, she said, "It was, -I think, no murder for gain nor greed. Nay, could not have been. He -stooped not, went not near the--the body after it fell. More like, I -think, a deed of hate, of bitter, hot rage. Who knows? Perhaps a wife -stolen, a daughter wronged. All is possible. For see, <i>it</i>," and again -she glanced down, "was young, and--and, <i>mon Dieu, il était beau!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">So they all said who gazed upon the handsome features now setting -rigidly in the blaze of the moon. "<i>Il était beau!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said the chief, "we must not stay here. He must be removed. -Meanwhile, I must to the officers of the guard; none must pass the -gates at daybreak except under strict scrutiny. And the body must be -searched to see if we can gather who and what he is. Alas! alas! The -woman speaks well. He was handsome."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now an exclamation arose from the crowd, while one or two stooped -hurriedly to the earth, and the first picked up something that, as he -held it out, glistened in his hand. It was an unset stone, a ruby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Tiens</i>," said the chief, turning it over in his hand, "what's this? -A ruby, and unset," he repeated. Then meditatively, "It may have -fallen from a setting worn by one or other, victim or murderer--from, -say, a ring, a collar, a brooch for cravat, or ruffle. Has he upon his -body," he said to his attendant, "any setting to which it might by -chance belong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man bent down and inspected poor Douglas's form, then he rose and -shook his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither ring nor chain that I can see. Nought that is likely to have -held such as that stone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" mused the chief, "humph!" Then he whispered to himself, "If -anyone pass the gate to-morrow with an unfilled setting--bah! <i>Non! -non! non!</i> He that has the setting belonging to the ruby will scarcely -show it. Yet, that the murderer owns it is most likely. If it had been -lost by anyone who has lately worshipped here," and he glanced up at -the cathedral over which the daffodil dawn was coming now from the -east, "there would have been hue and cry enough. <i>Allons</i>," he said -aloud. "To the watch house. And, <i>bonne femme</i>, come you with us to -testify." Then, turning to his underlings, he said, "Bring him with -you--find a plank or door. And--and--be gentle with him. <i>Pauvre -garçon!</i> Has he a mother, I wonder?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For three or four days the search went on, those whom he had loved so -aiding it in every way. Archibald, stern, silent, inwardly crushed; -Bertie mad with grief and despair; Kate broken-hearted. The lower -parts of the city were ransacked and received visits from the watch -and the exempts, but nothing came of it except great discomfort to the -denizens thereof. Nothing! And--which perhaps was not strange--never -to one of those who had so loved him came the veriest shadow of a -thought as to who the murderer was. It was not possible, indeed, that -such a thought should come. He, they imagined--if ever in their sorrow -they let his foul memory enter their mind--was in England. No, they -never dreamt of him. They began, therefore, at last to think, as all -the world which went to make up Amiens thought, that some of the -outcasts, the thieves and scoundrels who had visited the city at -fair-time, had taken his bright young life. Yet, strange to say, if -such were the case, he had not been robbed. His pocketbook was on him, -his purse untouched. There was little enough in either, it was true, -yet, the night-birds would have had them had they been his slayers!</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, at last, it seemed that the murderers were caught.</p> - -<p class="normal">There rode up to the south gate, on the fifth day, a sergeant and -three troopers of the Regiment Picardy, and with them they had--bound -with rope;--two villainous-looking scoundrels, fellows in stained and -tawdry riding coats, with brandy-inflamed faces, one having a broken -leg, so that as he sat on his horse he groaned with every movement it -made.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sergeant's story was brief and soon told to the captain of the -guard, while Bertie Elphinston, summoned to hear it, stood by -hollow-eyed and sad, wondering if he was to learn that in these -swashbucklers he saw the assassins of his poor friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Monsieur le capitaine</i>," said the sergeant, "by orders received from -you we have scoured the roads for the last few days. Then, last night, -we put up at the <i>Dragon Volant</i>, outside of Poix, and here we found -these two <i>larrons</i>. This one--this creature here--who calls himself -Jacques Potin, was abed with his broken leg, his horse having thrown -him; the other one, who names himself Adolphe d'Aunay, was nursing -him. <i>Ma foi!</i> a strange patient and a strange nursing. From the room -they occupied came forth howlings and singings and songs of the -vilest, mixed with oaths and laughter sufficient to have awakened -their grandfathers in their prison graves. 'Twas this drew my -attention to them, <i>Monsieur le capitaine</i>. Passing their door, -attracted by their roars and singings, I was also led to stop and -listen, because, the uproar over, I next heard this conversation: -'Curse you and your leg too!' said he who calls himself D'Aunay; 'if -'twere not for your accident we should have been in Paris now, safe -and free with our prize disposed of. Your drunkenness, whereby you got -your fall, has ruined all.' '<i>Mon petit choux</i>,' said the other, -'bemoan not; here we are snug and comfortable. Our <i>logement</i> is good, -the food of the best, the wine of the most superior. What would you -more? And we have the jewels, which are a small fortune, and the -money--<i>bonnes pieces fortes et trebuchantes</i>--for our immediate -wherewithal. As for the bills and bonds--well, we have destroyed them, -so they can tell no tales. <i>Mon enfant</i>, be gay.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon this," went on the sergeant, "I arrested them and found these."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereupon the man produced from his pockets numerous gold coins, -French and English, Louis d'ors and double Louis d'ors, some gold -quadruple pistoles, and a handful of English guineas. And also he -brought forth, wrapped in a filthy handkerchief, a considerable -quantity of pieces of jewellery containing superb precious stones. -There were two necklaces, innumerable rings and bracelets, and a -woman's tiara of rubies and diamonds. And from this latter--the rubies -and diamonds being set alternately--one of the former was missing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" said Bertie aside to his brother captain, "that proves nothing -as regards my poor friend. He possessed no jewels, nor, in the world, -one-half of that money. He had nought but his pay and a little allowed -him by the Scot's Fund. These men may be his murderers, but all this -is the result of another robbery--perhaps another murder."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless," said the captain of the guard, "we will hear their -story. Observe, a stone is missing from the tiara, and such a stone -was found where your friend was slain." Then turning to the two -fellows before them, he said curtly, "Now, your account of yourselves. -And explain your possession of all this," and he swept his hand over -the plain guardroom table, whereupon the money and the jewellery had -been temporarily placed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Explain!" exclaimed the man who was called D'Aunay and who appeared -to be the boldest of the two--while he regarded the captain with an -assumed air of fierceness and disdain. "Explain! What shall I explain? -That we are two gentlemen of Gascony."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Sans doute</i>," the captain muttered under his teeth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Oui, monsieur, sans doute</i>," repeated the fellow, who had overheard -his whisper. "Of Gascony, I repeat. From Tarbes, and resident at -Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Amiens scarcely lies on the route between those places," the captain -remarked quietly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Permit that I make myself clear. We had been to your great fair in -this fine city, and, by St. Firmin, had much enjoyed ourselves and -were riding back to Paris when, by great misfortune, my friend, who -suffers much from a painful and distracting vertigo, fell from his -horse. Naturally, I remained to solace and console him, and 'twas -there that your sergeant--who, you will pardon me for saying, -possesses not manners of the highest refinement and appears to combine -the calling of a <i>mouchard</i> with that of a soldier--burst in upon our -privacy, and has added to his insults by dragging us back here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have your papers, doubtless?" the captain asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless--at Paris. They are there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it usual for gentlemen of--of Gascony to travel with such -jewellery and gems as these?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Monsieur le capitaine</i>," said the man named D'Aunay, "you will -pardon me if I say that it is usual for gentlemen of Gascony to do -precisely whatever it seems best to them. At the same time they are -respecters most profound of the law. Therefore, monsieur, if you have -had any complaint of jewellery stolen, I am willing to give a more -full account of that which is in our possession."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was a bold villain--yet, perhaps, more of a crafty one. On the road -from Paris to Amiens his sharpness had gathered something from the -troopers, chatting among themselves, of what they were being brought -back for, and he knew that it was for murder, and not robbery, that -they were wanted. Therefore, being innocent of the former, he brazened -it out as regards the latter, though all the while thinking that there -was, probably, as great a hue and cry after those who had robbed the -man near the cathedral as those who had murdered the other one.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the captain of the guard was nonplussed his equally sharp eyes -saw at once; and he drew himself up a little more to his full height -and regarded the other with a still more assured air of haughty -disdain. However, the captain went on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was a murder committed five nights ago in the Place de la -Cathédrale----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Nom d'un chien!</i>" interrupted D'Aunay, "is it murder we are accused -of next? Excellent! Go on, monsieur. There are still other crimes in -the decalogue."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, you are not accused of it. But circumstances require explanation. -First to me, afterwards, perhaps, to the law. One circumstance is that -in your jewellery," and he emphasised the "your" very strongly, "there -is a stone, a ruby, missing from the tiara. Now----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is found?" exclaimed the cunning vagabond, with an admirable -assumption of gladness. "Ha! that is well, monsieur; these are joyous -tidings. That tiara was my mother's, La Marquise d'Aunay. I am indeed -thankful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was found on the spot where the murder took place--the spot where -the victim's body was also found."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Vraiment!</i> And that spot was----?" he asked, with still greater -coolness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall not tell you. Indeed, it would be best for you to say what -spots you were in on that night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On that night; monsieur speaks of which night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The 28th. The last night of the fair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The 28th! Jacques, <i>mon ami</i>," to his friend, "correct me if I forget -to mention any place we visited. <i>Vonons</i>. We supped at nine--<i>tiens</i>, -the <i>paté de canard</i> was excellent; we must instruct our cook in Paris -to attempt one. Then we visited the theatre, a vile representation of -'<i>Les Précieuses</i>,' I assure you, monsieur. Next, because in Gascony we -never forget, amidst all our troubles of after years, our early -religious instruction, we decided to attend the evening service at La -Cathédrale; there was a large and reverent crowd, monsieur----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Dame!</i>" exclaimed the captain, turning to Bertie; "I can do nothing -with the fellow." Then, re-addressing D'Aunay, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have finished with you, sir. Your next examination will be before -the Procureur du Roi," and he ordered the two "gentlemen of Gascony" -to be confined in the guardhouse until that official should -interrogate them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet they were too much even for this astute old lawyer, who had -learned his craft in Paris in the Law Courts of the Grand Monarch, as -they had learned theirs in half the gaols of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aunay insisted first on knowing who charged them with having stolen -the jewellery; where the person was who had lost it or had it stolen; -and if the unhappy young man who had been so monstrously and cruelly -done to death was known, or even supposed, to have been possessed of -any similar jewellery? Having achieved victory over the Procureur in -this respect, in the doing of which he exhibited such virtuous -indignation, accompanied by strange exclamations and shrugs and -hangings of the bench in front of him, as to nearly terrify the -representative of the law into releasing him, he began on a new tack.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Summon the good woman," he exclaimed, "who saw the murder done. By -St. Firmin, if she says one of us is the man, then to the wheel with -us! Also call the watch at the southern gate; if he in turn says that -we did not pass through ere midnight--I hear the excellent female -places the assassination after the first quarter past the hour had -struck--then, I say, to the wheel with us! <i>Sacré nom d'un chien!</i> -were ever gentlemen treated thus before? <i>Sacré mille tonnerres</i>, is -this France in which we are?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman was summoned, and instantly replied, "No, neither of the -messieurs before her was the man. No resemblance whatever. She was -certain. That face she could never forget. It was a devil's. On her -most sacred oath, neither were concerned in the awful scene."</p> - -<p class="normal">The watchmen at the gate affirmed that both men passed out before -midnight struck--the hour for the gate to close on <i>fête</i>-days. There -was no possibility of his being mistaken--one, the big man, swore at -him for having half closed the gate, thinking the last person had gone -through for that night; the other insulted him and jeered at him, and -flung a sou at his feet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," said the old Procureur du Roi, "you seem free of this crime. -Yet, I misdoubt me but you are the lawful prey of the gibbet. The -sergeant heard you speaking of your plunder. That you have stolen the -jewellery no one can doubt----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Produce the owner," interrupted D'Aunay, on whom a clear light had -now dawned. "We ask nothing but that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also you swear by St. Firmin. He is a saint of Picardy, not of the -south of France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be strange if I did not swear by him. In the few hours we -were here we heard everyone we met swear terribly by him. He must, -indeed, be a saint of Picardy--<i>surtôut</i> of Amiens."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also," went on the judge, "you spoke truth when you said you had been -to the theatre and to the Cathedral----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Naturally, monsieur. It is ever my habit. To shun the truth is -impossible to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your actions were suspicious. Both at the theatre and the -cathedral you were observed to place yourselves, to force yourselves, -nearest to those who presented the appearance of greatest wealth----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Finissons!</i>" roared D'Aunay now in virtuous indignation. "Enough. -Produce more tangible reasons for this detention, these insults, or -release us. Your charges have all fallen to the ground; you now begin -a fresh one equally baseless. Yet, because I love justice and respect -the law--its administrators I cannot always respect--if anyone has -been robbed at either theatre or church, bring them forward, and we -will meet that charge too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will be released," said the Procureur; "you are now free. But the -jewellery will be retained for the present. Later on it may be -returned to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">So, not without many protestations, the fellows went away from Amiens, -D'Aunay breathing maledictions against the barbarous laws which -permitted honest gentlemen to be arrested and their property -confiscated. Yet, he swore, the end was not yet arrived at; when they -reached Paris they would soon set the highest legal authorities at -work. Also he edified the good people of Amiens by the tenderness and -care with which he assisted his suffering friend to mount his horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Later in that day they halted for an evening meal on the cool grass at -the wayside, and, as D'Aunay helped his comrade from his wallet, he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jacques, <i>mon ami</i>, observe always the advantage of truth. Had I not -mentioned our visit to the cathedral in the earlier part of the -evening that cursed ruby would almost have sunk us." Then he wagged -his head and took a drink of wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," he continued, "I understand it not. Let us consider. We took -the plunder close by the cathedral. In front of the cathedral that -other one was slain. None claim the jewels---<i>peste!</i> 'tis hard to -lose them. What do you make of it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A fool can see," replied Jacques, as he shifted his wounded leg into -an easier position. "Any fool can see that. It was our friend who----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely," said D'Aunay. "Precisely. <i>Allons!</i> To Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the ruby fell out when we were examining the spoil!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Again, precisely. And remember, Jacques, that if we ever meet our -friend who once owned the jewels it would be worth while attacking -him. Also, above all, Jacques, remember the truth is best. <i>Allons!</i> -To Paris!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">After that all hope was given up of discovering who had murdered -Douglas. From the first, from the moment Bertie saw the jewels taken -from the two vagabonds by the sergeant, he felt that neither of them -were the culprits. Yet, all asked each other whenever they met, "If -not these scoundrels, who then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He had no enemy in France, in the world," said Bertie, as they sat -one night in the lodgings which Kate had hired for her father and -herself. "Why, why should any creature have taken his life? In his -regiment he was most popular--nay, beloved. Oh! oh! I cannot -understand it."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, since, as has been said, the summer was waning--for Douglas -had been dead three months when they talked thus--their little circle -was about to be broken up once more. One was gone for ever, they said -in whispered tones, he could never come back; could those who still -remained be once more united after they separated at Amiens?</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie, with his troop and one other of the Regiment of Picardy, was -to proceed to St. Denis; Kate and her father were to go to Paris; -Archibald was to remain behind at Amiens.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over the latter a great change had come since his brother's death. He -had always been a quiet and reserved man--perhaps from the very nature -of his calling--one who never said more than was absolutely necessary -to any person on any subject; now he seemed to have retired entirely -within himself and to have but two things in this world to which his -life was devoted: his Faith, and his determination to find the -murderer of Douglas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," he said to Bertie, "I shall do it. Have no fear of that. I -shall do it. I have now an idea--though an idea of so strange, so -extraordinary a nature, that I hardly dare to let myself believe that -it can ever take a tangible shape."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And may I, may Kate, know nothing of that idea? Remember how we both -loved him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Sholto replied. "No. It may come to nothing--must, it almost -seems certain, come to nothing. Yet, if the secret can be unravelled, -I will find the way to do it. Then, when I am sure, if ever I am, you -shall know all. Nay, you will most assuredly know all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you tell us--tell me--no more than this?" asked Bertie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you nothing. It is possible I may be mistaken; more than -possible. If I am not, then you will know."</p> - -<p class="normal">And with this the other had to be content, and to prepare to proceed -to his new quarters outside Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Jesuit's idea was, indeed, one about which he might well -say that he could not believe it should ever assume a tangible -shape. It was nothing else than that he believed he had seen those -jewels--especially that tiara--before.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had examined them many times since they had been taken away from -D'Aunay and his companion and kept in the custody of the Mayor of -Amiens--had turned them over and over in his hands; scrutinised the -settings to see if he could observe any mark or inscription upon them. -But there was nothing--no coronet engraved inside the tiara with a -name, or initials, such as might well have been looked for in such -costly gewgaws--nothing! Yet the tiara forced itself upon his memory, -seemed to be a thing he had seen before--worn upon a woman's head at -some great ceremony. Especially he seemed to remember one diamond to -the extreme left of the diadem, a yellow, light brown stone that had -flashed out a different light from its fellows beneath the gleams of -many-lustred candelabras. But where? Where? Where?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Almost," he whispered to himself, "I seem to see, as through a mist, -the head, the face that was beneath it. Dark hair, grizzled grey; pale -olive complexion; lines of care. Who was it? Who? If I could remember -that."</p> - -<p class="normal">At night as he lay upon his truckle bed, or as he walked by the banks -of the Somme, or held the jewels in his hands--for more than once he -went to see them--he mused on all this. Nay, when the memory of his -beloved brother and his cruel death was more than usually strong upon -him, he would ponder upon the idea that was ever in his mind as he -stood at night, solitary and alone, in the Place de la Cathédrale -before the great west door, and on the very spot where his loved one -had fallen. But still memory failed him, or, as he came near believing -now, he was the sport of a delusion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Practised by long training in every mental art, he took next to -recalling each scene of splendour--for in some such scene it was, he -felt sure, that he had seen that gleaming hoop worn, if he had ever -seen it at all--in which he had ever taken part from the time he had -been ordained a priest, from the time when, an ardent enthusiast of -the Stuart cause, he had mixed in the great court circles. Scenes at -Versailles, at Marly and Vincennes, St. Germain and Fontainebleau--for -he had been amidst them all--were recalled carefully, yet still the -phantom of the dark-haired woman with the threads of grey running -through that hair evaded him. He had known so many such, he told -himself, wearily; had seen so many women to whom jewels and adornments -were the natural accompaniments, that, perhaps, it was not strange he -should forget. Also, he reflected, how easy for him, who had seen -countless jewelled head-dresses worn, to imagine that he remembered -this particular one!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he could swear he remembered that yellow, brown diamond!</p> - -<p class="normal">Tortured thus by his struggles with the dim shadows of his memory, he -bade farewell to the others as they departed, and left him alone in -the city so bitterly dear to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, Kate," he said, "farewell. God bless you! You are -separated, as I think, for ever from a man utterly unworthy of you; -yet you have still the consolation of being without dishonour--ay, -without speck or blemish. He will never trouble you again, I do -believe. Let him, therefore, go his evil way, and go you yours in -peace and happiness. I would that I could see a way to your obtaining -the one happiness that should belong to you; wish it for your sake and -Bertie's. But it cannot be. Not yet, at least. Therefore bear up. -Heaven in its mercy will, I know, protect and prosper you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-bye, good-bye, Archie," Kate replied, as she sobbed -unrestrainedly. "Oh, how unhappy we are! We looked forward to so much -in this meeting here, and see--see how it has ended! Shall we ever be -happy again?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In Heaven's mercy," he said, "in Heaven's mercy." Then he kissed her -on the brow, shook hands with her father, and went his way back to his -gloomy life, and now still more gloomy thoughts. Yet never in those -thoughts--no, not even though they had sometimes spoken of the man -himself--did it dawn upon him that here was the one who might be the -murderer of Douglas.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie was already gone, the two troops of the Regiment of Picardy -having marched out a day or so before, the blare of their trumpets and -the clatter of the horses' hoofs having awakened the city early. And -he had seen Kate--dawn though it was--glancing from her window to look -at him, to wave him her farewell.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," he had said to her overnight, "it must not be for long, Kitty. -It seems to me that we grow nearer to one another as trouble falls--at -least, there can be no assassin's knife to come between us. Kate, I -shall come and see you as often as I can get leave to visit Paris; -even though you are in a King's--a future King's--house, as I still -hope--I may come. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she said, "you may come always. Oh, Bertie, we are parted for -ever--our lives, our hopes, all--yet if I could not sometimes see you, -know that you are well, happy--you will be happy, will you not, when -this great sorrow is eased by time?--I think I should die. Surely it -cannot be wrong, remembering what we once were to each other, what we -once were to have been, to wish to know and hear of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What we once were to have been!" he repeated, in almost a whisper. -"To have been. O Kate! O Kate! Those plans, those projects for the -future!" His voice broke and failed him as he continued: "You have not -forgotten them! Kate, do you remember how once we pictured ourselves -growing old together, how we meditated on the time that should come -when, our lives done with, we should rest together in some calm and -peaceful grave?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, "no," and sprang to her feet excitedly. "No! -no! no! I will not remember--will recall nothing, for if I do -I shall go mad. Remember nothing--'tis best so. Go, Bertie -Elphinston, go to your duties, as I will go to mine. Let us forget -everything--except--except----" she faltered, changing in a moment -womanlike--"that it was I who ruined and cursed both our lives."</p> - -<p class="normal">He soothed her as best he could, reproaching himself for having -revived such memories; reproaching himself, too, for the silence that -had led to her believing him false. And once he said, as he had said -in England when first they met again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mine was the fault, let mine be the blame. Yet, unhappily, both have -had to suffer. Surely something must arise to end that suffering ere -long."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not know it, could not, indeed, know it; yet the end was far -off still. There were more vigils of sorrow to be kept by both, more -grief and pain to be endured.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor when she said between her tears, "If we were to be parted again -now, if I should never see your face more, my heart would break," -could she know what lay in front of them--black, dark, and lowering.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her future was in a way provided for. The Cardinal Tencin, in spite of -being somewhat out of favour now and retired to his archbishopric of -Lyons--for when a French prelate was in disgrace his punishment was -that he should attend to his diocese instead of being in Paris!--had -still entire influence over the exiled Stuarts. Therefore it was to -him that Archibald Sholto applied on behalf of Kate, and through him -that she was to be appointed to the small court now being formed round -Charles Edward in Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">That unhappy prince--though fortunate in some things, especially in -his escape from Scotland after the rebellion--had now landed at -Roscort, three leagues west of Morlaix, from the "Bellona," of St. -Malo, and was safe once more in Paris. His adventures since the defeat -of Culloden had been truly marvellous, and his escapes not less so; -twice he was in danger of being shot, five times in danger of being -drowned, nine times he was pursued by men of war and armed vessels of -King George, and six times he escaped being captured by what seemed to -be miracles. Also he had been almost famished for want of food and -drink, and had had to lie out on the bare heaths or wild mountains and -to shelter in caves.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now he had entered Paris again, had been graciously welcomed by -the French King and Queen, and was in treaty for a fine house in the -Quartier St. Germain. It was to that house that Kate, with her father, -was to go, there to form two of his small court.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first when she took up her residence in it she was happy. She was -among friends she had known in Paris, many of them also comrades of -Bertie who had fought in the last invasion and themselves escaped. The -Lords Ogilvie and Elcho were there with the ladies of their family; -there, too, were old Lochiel and young Lord Lewis Gordon; the young -Lochiel also, and Captain Stafford, who had lain long in Newgate in -irons, yet was now escaped and free.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also she was happy because Bertie was able to come and see her, and on -one occasion, with all the others, including herself, accompanied the -prince when he went to pay his respects to Louis at Versailles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, Kate," he whispered to her on that evening, when, Charles -Edward being at supper with the royal family, they strolled together -up and down the mirrored galleries of the palace, "'tis even better -than the old days, were it not that dear Douglas has left us," and he -sighed. "But," he went on, "you are provided for--that, at least, is -well, or as well as things are ever likely to be."</p> - -<p class="normal">She said, "Yes, it is well, so far." Then she continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still, Bertie, I am unhappy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unhappy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Unhappy because I never know when that man--my husband--may -cross my path again. Oh, if I could be sure I should never see him -more!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least he can never harm or annoy you. Have no fear of that. -Remember, he knows that Archibald and I are in Paris, and, of course, -believes that Douglas is here also. His dread of us will keep him -away. He will trouble you no more. And if he should come--which is of -all things most unlikely--why, I shall be near at hand to shield and -protect you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will always be near me?" she asked. "Always now? Oh, promise, -Bertie; promise me that you will never disappear again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course, I promise. Why, where should I go to?" and he laughed as -he asked. "My life is now bound up with the regiment. Short of -campaigns nothing can take me far from you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," she replied, "I fear--fear always. It is only when you are near -that I feel safe--feel that I have one who is a brother to stand -between me and harm."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "as a brother. It can never be anything else than that -now--yet, as a brother, I will not fail you."</p> - -<p class="normal">So they went back to Paris as they had come, the royal visit being -over.</p> - -<p class="normal">And then it seemed at last as if, with some few changes, things were -to be almost as they had once been, though it is true that, instead of -the old house in the Rue Trousse Vache, she and her father were lodged -in a mansion which was in fact a palace, that Douglas was gone out of -their life forever, and that she was a wife in name, though nothing -else.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie came at least once a week to Paris from St. Denis, both to pay -his respects to his prince--as he regarded always Charles Edward--and -also to see her, and brought her flowers from the gardens round that -old town. But he brought no news from Archibald as to his having been -successful in discovering who the murderer of Douglas was. The priest -had, indeed, written to them once or twice from Amiens, but he either -refrained from mentioning the subject at all, or, if he did so, said -that he could discover nothing, and that any idea he might have had on -the matter was, he now feared, a futile one.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I began to also fear," Bertie said, as he talked it over with Kate, -"that it was indeed a futile one--that never now will he be avenged. -Poor Douglas! Who could have desired his life--who have struck so foul -a blow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must have been," she answered, "as we at first thought, a murder -in the hope of robbery afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or," said Bertie, "as sometimes I think now, the offshoot of -another--an undiscovered murder. What if those vagabonds who called -themselves Gascon gentlemen had previously slain someone else who was -possessed of all that jewellery, and Douglas had come across them at -the time, and, in endeavouring to save that other, was slain himself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, "no. That is impossible. No other victim's body was -found, and there was no place where they could have hidden it away, -or, having hidden it, could not also have disposed of his. Besides, -remember: The woman--the concierge--saw only one other slay him, and -that other was neither of the Gascons. Nor was his sword drawn. No, we -must seek elsewhere for the solution of that crime."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus they talked it over and over whenever they met. Surely it was -natural that they should do so, seeing how much he had been to them, -and how awful a blow his assassination was, but never did they arrive -at any thought or idea of who was the actual murderer.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as they so discussed it day by day, the autumn departed as the -summer had done, and the winter was almost upon them. Already the -leaves lay in heaps at the roots of the trees, the swallows were all -gone, the nights were long and dark, and Douglas slept unavenged in -his grave. And still the troubles, the griefs and sorrows of this -luckless man and woman were not yet at an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another blow was still to fall upon them--it was close at hand now, -though they knew it not.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> - -<h5>"WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL--MYSELF AM HELL!"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was the feast of St. Denys, the patron saint of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over all the land, from north to south and east to west, the churches -and cathedrals were crowded on that day with worshippers bringing -offerings and gifts to the altars, praying for the saint's aid to be -still continued to them, asking for pardon for past sins, for -prosperity in the future. On that day the King himself went in state -to Nôtre Dame, accompanied by his brilliant court. In the provinces, -governors of fortresses and of departments did the same thing at the -local cathedrals; prisoners were released because of the anniversary -of St. Denys, while some of the worst among them were executed--both -as an example, and because it was the great <i>fête</i>-day and a holiday -when other people required to be amused.</p> - -<p class="normal">In Amiens, as in all the other cities boasting a beautiful cathedral -and possessed of a strong religious element, it was the same as -elsewhere. From morning until night the bells clanged at intervals -from the towers of Nôtre Dame and the fourteen parish churches; -processions innumerable took place, masses of all kinds--Capitular, -Conventual, Missa Cantata, Missa Fidelium, Mass High and Low--were -said and sung, accompanied by Kyrie, Gloria, and Credo, by Sanctus, -Benedictus, and Agnus Dei.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at last all was over--of a religious nature. The crowds that had -filled Nôtre Dame d'Amiens were streaming out to other forms of -celebration of the <i>jour de Patron</i>. It was the turn of the theatres -now and the family gatherings, of the dance and song and jest among -the better classes; the turn of the supper party and the wineshop and -the <i>courtesan</i> for the remainder of the day--or rather night.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, for those who still were willing to continue their religious -devotions, still to regard the occasion more as a fast than a feast, -the opportunity presented itself and was availed of by many. In every -church in the city, in the cathedral above all, worshippers still -knelt in prayer, though the hour grew late; at the confessionals -hidden priests still listened to the sins--real or imaginary--of those -who knelt before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that cathedral with, still lingering about it, the odour of the -incense that had been used that day, with the organ still pealing -gently through the aisles, while at intervals the <i>voix celeste</i>, in -flute-like tones, seemed almost to utter the soul's cry, "Oh, Agnus -Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere mihi!"--those confessors sat -there, and would sit until midnight struck, to listen to and absolve -all those who sought for pardon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My son," came forth the muffled voice of one, his face being hidden -in the impenetrable darkness in which he sat--a darkness still more -profound since many of the lights in the great edifice had either been -extinguished or had burnt themselves out, "the confession is not yet -all made. Therefore, as yet there can be no absolution. Confess thy -sins! Continue!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Kneeling outside, the stricken creature thus addressed, its wild hair -streaming down its back and meeting with the other unkempt hair on -cheek and chin, its eyes gleaming, like a hunted animal's, around and -up and down the dusky aisles, and glancing at pillars as though -fearing listeners behind each, went on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My life, oh, holy father, was in his hands. He knew all; knew I was -in France, and that he could give me up to justice to those whom I had -wronged. Oh, father, <i>mea culpa, mea culpa!</i> Absolve me! absolve me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell first thy sin," the muffled voice said again. "Thou hast not yet -told all. Deceive not the Church. Confession first, then absolution."</p> - -<p class="normal">The penitent groaned and wrung his hands, threw back the locks from -his face, and then, with that face pressed close to the confessional, -hissed in a whisper:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father, I was mad--am mad, I think. I was sore wrought; but half an -hour before I had been assaulted and robbed by two villains of much -wealth in jewels--and--and--I feared he would denounce me for my -crimes, make my presence known. So, holy father--in my frenzy, in my -fear--I struck him dead. I slew him. Have mercy on me, God!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where slew you him?" the priest's stifled voice continued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, father--without, by the west door. Oh, pardon, pardon, that -here, on holy ground that should be sanctuary, I took his life!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed almost to the wretch outside the confessional that the -priest had uttered a gasp, had started in his seat, as he heard these -words; yet presently he spoke again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The victim being the young Scots officer found murdered more than -three months past?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis so, holy father. 'Tis so. Oh, pardon! Pardon me! <i>Mea culpa, mea -culpa!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What restitution have you made?" the voice was heard to ask. "What -restitution propose to make?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not what to make, father. I cannot call him back to life. What -can I, must I do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you wronged others--man, woman, or child? Think! trifle not with -the Church. There are, doubtless, others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, father, I have been an evil liver--a bad husband; bad friend. Set -my feet but in the right way! show me the path. And oh! father, -absolve me of this sin of blood. Above all, that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Confess all," the priest said, "confess all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, still shivering there, while more and more the shadows grew -within the great temple and it became more and more empty, the -wretched assassin went on, though ever and again glancing behind the -stately column and pillars as though fearing that unseen listener. He -told how, determined to gain possession of a woman whose beauty -maddened him--the more so because she despised him, or, at least, -regarded him not--he had tricked her into the belief that the man she -really loved had jilted her. Also how, when even that brought them no -nearer, he had married her. How, later on, when wearied and -exasperated by her hate and scorn, he had denied her as his wife, -hinting that he was himself a priest; yet it was a lie, for he was no -priest, having never been more that a lector.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Almost," came forth the confessor's voice again, "art thou beyond -absolution--beyond pardon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No! no! no!" wailed the wretch.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Twice hast thou used our holy Church to aid in thy deceit. First, -when thou suborned a villain and caused him to pretend he had -performed the holy office of marriage; next, when thou falsely -claimedst the office of priest to disavow thy lawful wife. Man, how -shall I absolve thee? Yet, be more careful, or thy soul is lost for -ever. Hast thou done more evil than this, committed more outrages -against the Church?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Because, perhaps, the wretched creature was half mad with terror now, -with a new terror for his soul--whereas before he had but feared for -his body--he told all that he had done; how, indeed, he had still -further sinned against the Church in that he had set on foot a plot -having for part of its intent the ruin of a priest of that Church, a -Jesuit, one Sholto. It was all told at last.</p> - -<p class="normal">For so long did the confessor sit silent in his unseen place that the -miserable penitent, thinking no absolution would come forth to him, -began to tremble, even to weep, and to call on him again for pardon -and for pity. But at last the other spoke:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Art thou well-to-do in the world?" he asked. "What are thy means?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yes, he said he was well-to-do; he had large means in both England and -France. What portion should he set aside to appease both God and the -Church?</p> - -<p class="normal">"All," answered the priest. "All."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All!" he gasped. "Go forth a beggar!</p> - -<p class="normal">"All. Ay, all. Better go forth a beggar, stand naked in the -market-place, than strip thy soul of its last chance of salvation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the last sol, the last dénier--excepting a provision for thy -unhappy wife. Thou art the shedder of blood, the blasphemer of the -Church and its holy offices, thy soul is clogged with guilt. I know -not, even then, and with all else that thou must do, if it can ever -find expiation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Say not so, father; absolve me, pardon me! See! see! I will do it. -Before God I swear, in this His house, that I will do it! I will -become a beggar, part with all. Only, father, give me His pardon. -Pardon, and set me free!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, still more," said that voice, "must thou do. Listen!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And from his lips there fell so deep a charge that the murderer, -kneeling there, knew that to save his soul in heaven he must forego -all hopes of future peace on earth. Nevermore was he to touch meat nor -aught but the coarsest black bread, never drink but water, never sleep -soft, nor lie warm again. And there was worse even than that. He was -to go forth to wild, savage parts of the world, there to pass the rest -of his existence in trying to preach God's goodness and mercy to the -heathen who knew Him not. On the promise that he would do this the -priest would give him absolution; otherwise he would refuse it, and -his soul must go to everlasting perdition.</p> - -<p class="normal">He promised, and he was absolved!</p> - -<p class="normal">Still sitting there, the last in the cathedral that night--for all -were gone now except those who were to guard it until midnight had -struck--he became the prey of even worse horrors than he had been -before; he was absolved as regards his soul, yet into his mind a new -fear had arisen for his body--a fear that became a spectre. He had -thought that once or twice he had recognised in the tones of the -priest's voice some that were familiar to him; now he felt sure that -they were. He had confessed to his bitterest enemy on earth--to -Archibald Sholto! to the brother of the man whom he had murdered!</p> - -<p class="normal">This was the meaning of the awful doom passed on him--the doom of -ruin, beggary, and starvation, of expatriation to wild and savage -lands. To him! He had confessed to him of all others! Yet, was it so, -or was he, in truth, mad? He had heard of madmen who knew that they -were mad and who could yet be so cunning as to contend with that -madness, wrestle with it, subdue it--for a time. Let him do so now. -Let him think it all out. Was it, in truth, Archibald Sholto?</p> - -<p class="normal">It might well be.</p> - -<p class="normal">For three months he had been in hiding in a small village near Amiens, -watching over the course of events connected with his assassination of -Douglas, avoiding, above all others, yet keeping them ever under his -own view, two persons. One was Archibald, the other the woman who had -seen his face on that night--the white-faced woman in the darkened -room who had raised her finger and pointed as he did the deed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Avoided them," he muttered now, as he sat there in the dark, watching -the sacred lamp that burned unceasingly above the high altar, but -still engaged always in peering into the deep shadows and blackness in -which the huge pile was now enveloped--"avoided them. O God, how have -I avoided them! Yet, drawn irresistibly to where they were. Little -does he know how I have seen him officiating at his own church, or she -how I have passed her close, though unseen; even peered into her room -at night from the street, when, dragged here by--by--the fierce desire -to stand again upon the spot where--where he fell. Once, too, she -felt, unwittingly, my presence. As I brushed against her in the street -she shuddered and drew back from me. Something revealed that one -accursed had touched her."</p> - -<p class="normal">He moaned aloud as he sat there, his head buried in his hands; then, -because his mind was now disordered and he was half mad, half sane, a -smile came on the evil face that he turned up as the moon's rays came -through the great rose window and lighted all the nave. "Yet," he -murmured, "it was in the confessional under the seal of confession. If -it was Douglas's brother, he can do naught. Naught! Confession is -sacred. That seal cannot be broken. But was it he? Was it? Was it?</p> - -<p class="normal">"His face I could not see, but the tones were like unto his," he -continued. "And once he started--I am certain of it. O God, have I -told his brother all? His brother! His brother!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Above, from the great tower, there boomed the striking of the -hour--midnight. And again he shuddered and moaned and whispered with -white lips:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The very hour, the hour that I cannot hear, can never hear again, -without agony and horror unspeakable. The hour told by the same clock -that told it on that night of blood. I must go," he wailed in low, -broken tones, "must go there. He draws me to the spot; I see his -finger beckoning me nightly. His eyes met mine once, a month ago, as I -reached Paris. I thought I was free and had escaped, yet they dragged -me back to this accursed spot. I must go. I must go. He waits for me. -Ever--ever when the moon is near her full. I am absolved by him, his -brother, yet he is always beckoning me and makes me go."</p> - -<p class="normal">A hand fell on his shoulder as he sat there, and he started up with -almost a shriek, and with his own hand thrust in his breast--perhaps -to draw some hidden knife, perhaps to still the leap his heart gave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur," a voice said, the voice of the old sacristan, "permit that -I disturb your pious meditations. But all are gone now, including the -priests. The cathedral is about to close."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes," he muttered low, "I will go. I will go. I have stayed too -long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the west door, if it pleases monsieur. It is the only one open."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The west door," the terrified creature muttered as he left the old -man putting out the last remaining lights, and so made his way towards -the exit indicated. "By the west door. It must needs be that. It is -the nearest to the spot, and he will be there waiting for me, the -moonlight shining in his glittering eyes as he beckons me to him, the -glare of reproach in them. I must go. I must go."</p> - -<p class="normal">Down the long aisle he crept, shaking as with a palsy as he went, -starting and almost crying out again as a bat flew by and brushed his -hair with its wings, going onward to what he dreaded to see, the -phantom of the murdered man which his distracted brain conjured up -nightly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will be there," he muttered again. "He will be there."</p> - -<p class="normal">He reached the great west door--striking against the bell ropes -hanging in the tower, and gasping at the contact--and then paused at -the wicket let into the door, dreading to go out through it to meet -the ghostly figure that he knew awaited him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, it must be done, and with another gasp, a smothered groan, he -stepped out through the wicket into the shadow thrown by the cathedral -wall, and gazed upon the moon-illuminated spot where Douglas had -fallen dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">And once more he smothered a shriek that rose to his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">Standing above that spot, its back to him, but as he could tell by the -bent head, gazing down upon it, there was the figure of a man--a man -still as death itself; a man bare-headed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have come again," he hissed in terror. "Again! Again! Mercy! -Mercy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Swiftly the figure turned and faced him--its eyes glistening in the -moonlight as he had said--and advanced towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Douglas!" he screamed. "Douglas! Mercy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the figure said. "No. Not Douglas. Archibald."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> - -<h5>AVENGED.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">He had fallen grovelling to the earth as that figure turned its face -towards him, and now he remained in the same position.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did so Archibald Sholto knew for certain that he had found his -brother's murderer. In the moment of witnessing that frenzied terror -there had flashed into his mind the knowledge of who had been the -wearer of the tiara with the one yellow-brown diamond in it; the -recognition of the dark head streaked with grey with which his -thoughts had been filled for weeks, yet without certainty--the head of -the murderer's late mother! He knew all now. She it was who had worn -the diadem in the great ceremonies he had taken part in; the -rejoicings at the peace of '38, the almost equally great rejoicings at -the death of the Emperor Charles, and many others. She, Lady -Fordingbridge, his mother, had worn it often; often had he observed -the strange light emitted by that blemished jewel; and now, from the -tiara in which it still remained, a ruby was missing, and had been -found on the spot where his brother had been done to death. Therefore -he knew that that brother's assassin was before him. God had given him -into his hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">He bent forward over the crouching creature at his feet; in a low -voice he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, I have found you, Simeon Larpent. Even though you are armed -to-night as you were on that other night; even though you bear about -you the weapon with which you slew him, you cannot escape me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can do nothing," the other said, turning up an evil eye at him -and then rising to his feet--"nothing! Your tongue is sealed. What I -confessed was under the sanctity of the confessional; you dare tell -naught."</p> - -<p class="normal">At once the Jesuit's clear mind grasped the facts--at once he -perceived that the murderer had been cleansing his soul before a -confessor--and thought that he was that confessor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I told you all," Fordingbridge went on, "all, all. And you absolved -me, pardoned me, though the punishment you meted out to me was hard. -Have you not vengeance enough? To go forth a beggar and an outcast--to -wander in savage lands until I die--surely, surely, that is enough. -Let me go in peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," Archibald Sholto answered; "not yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet!" the other repeated. "Not yet! What more would you have? All -is told--you know all now. Shall I repeat what I said in there? I slew -him here upon this spot because he would have warned you and -Elphinston that I was in France, and--you absolved me. It is enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You slew him here upon this spot," the Jesuit said, and he pointed -with his finger to the place, "upon this spot. You acknowledge it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have I not said? You have absolved me." It was strange how, from the -repetition of this phrase, he seemed to take comfort. "You have -absolved me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are mistaken," the other said, while as he spoke he drew nearer -to the murderer, though keeping ever a wary eye upon him. "Mistaken! I -have heard no confession for a week."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" exclaimed Fordingbridge, springing back a step or so, while -now his eyes glared round the deserted cathedral place--again like the -eyes of some hunted or trapped wild beast. "What! It was not you in -there? Not you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. Not I. Simeon Larpent, you are doomed. You divulged your crime -under the seal of the confessional in the cathedral; you have divulged -it openly here with no such seal to protect you. Murderer! You are in -my power!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he saw the other do that which he had been anticipating. -He saw his hand steal to his breast; he knew that he was searching for -some weapon concealed there. But he feared him not; he, too, was -armed. Ever since he had sought for the assassin he had carried about -with him a small pistol, knowing that if, by any strange chance, -fortune should throw him across the villain's path, such weapon might -be needed. To-night he had come out to gaze again on the place where -the deed had been done, never thinking, never dreaming, that there of -all places on the earth that murderer should be found, yet not -neglecting the precaution of being armed. Now that precaution stood -him in good stead.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Draw no hidden weapon from your breast," he said, as he saw the hand -go to it; "remember, I am not as Douglas was, but am forewarned; and -if you bring forth one, I will slay you here on the spot as you slew -him, and save the hangman his office," and as he spoke he showed the -other the little inlaid pistol, its barrel glistening in the moon's -rays.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know nothing," the other hissed at him now, "nothing. I have told -you nothing--you have no witnesses. My word is as good as yours, even -if I let you take me--which I will not," he continued, "which I will -not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No witnesses?" said Archibald; "no witnesses? Nay, look behind you. -Look! I say. No other witness is required."</p> - -<p class="normal">Affrighted at his words--thinking, perhaps, that the terrible spectre -that haunted him always now might be standing menacingly behind -him--he glanced round, and what he saw struck nearly as much horror to -his crime-laden brain as could have done the ghost of his victim.</p> - -<p class="normal">Advancing from an open door by the side of the cathedral there came a -woman, her face white as any ghost's or leper's, her eyes distended, -her hand uplifted and pointing at him. Indeed, so appalling was her -ghastliness, the whiteness of her face being made doubly so by the -rays of the moon falling upon it, that the dazed, stricken creature -hid his own face in his hands and recoiled as she advanced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is he," she said. "It is he. Nightly almost he comes when the moon -is up. Seize on him, seize him! Let him never escape again," and still -she pointed at the man shivering between them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not," Archibald said. "Fear not." Then turning to Fordingbridge, -while he held the pistol pointed at him, he continued: "Come! -Resistance is useless. I have sworn here, upon this spot, to avenge -Douglas; I will keep my oath. Till you stand upon the scaffold you are -mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has a weapon to his hand," the woman said, still with her own -pointing at him as if it were the hand of Fate. "See!" Then, as though -she were one inspired, she said, as she turned to him, "Give me the -knife."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether his mind was gone at last, or whether fear had so overcome -Fordingbridge that he was no longer master of his actions, Sholto was -never able to decide. Yet, from whichever cause it was, he obeyed his -ghastly denouncer in so far that, as she spoke to him, the dagger -dropped to the earth. And she, picking it up, placed it in the -priest's hands, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is borne in on me that with this he slew that other one. I feel -it--know it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will testify that he is the murderer?" Sholto said. "You do not -doubt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubt!" she exclaimed, turning her wan, white face on him. "Doubt! -How should I doubt? He has haunted me since that awful night--haunted -me, almost driven me to my death. Oh, you know not! I have risen at -night from my bed to see him standing there, muttering, grimacing over -that very spot, so that, as I gazed on him from out the darkness of my -room, I have swooned again as on that night I swooned. Had I been a -man, nay, had I had a man to call on, I would have gone forth and -seized him. Yet, when I have told others that nightly, almost, the -murderer came and gloated over the space where he slew the other, they -derided me, said I was mad, would not even watch themselves. Oh, the -horror of it! the horror of it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The horror is ended for you now, poor woman," the priest said. "Never -more will he affright your sight when you rise from your bed. Yet do -me one service, I beg you. Put on some clothes, for the night air gets -cold"--she had, indeed, come forth from her room--where she had again -been watching in terror, fearing to see another murder--in little else -than her night raiment--"and go fetch the watch. I will see that he -escapes not."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman went away at his request, and coming out from the house, at -which she was the concierge, with a cloak thrown over her shoulders, -sped down the darkened streets, while once more the avenger and his -prey were left alone. But they spoke no more to one another now; only -stood there silent, facing each other. Yet once, after a few moments' -pause, Fordingbridge chuckled audibly and whispered to himself. God -only knows what was in the wretched man's mind as he did so; -Archibald, at least, made no attempt to discover.</p> - -<p class="normal">For himself he was contented. Fate had thrown into his hands the -assassin of his beloved brother--that was enough.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently the woman came back, and with her three of the watch, armed -and with a lantern borne in the hands of one, and into their custody -the Jesuit gave Fordingbridge. Yet, since he could not feel at ease -until he had seen the other safe under lock and key, he accompanied -them to the prison--to which the guardhouse was attached--and handed -him over to the officials there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-morrow," he said, "I will formally lay my charge against him -before the Procureur du Roi; till then, I pray you, keep him safe. He -is the murderer of the young Scotch officer who was slain outside the -cathedral, and was my brother, as all Amiens knows."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never fear, monsieur," said the chief of the watch; "we will keep him -safe enough. Our cage is strong."</p> -<br> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A few nights later than the one on which the murderer, Fordingbridge, -had been taken to the prison, Bertie Elphinston, riding up to the -northern gate of Paris, demanded admission. It was a cold, raw night -this--one of those October evenings common enough to the north of -France, when the moisture hangs like rain-drops on every bush and -bramble, and when the rawness penetrates to the inside of man, making -him think of drams of brandy and Nantz as the best preventive of chill -and cold.</p> - -<p class="normal">He would not have ridden in to-night, would not have left the -comfortable fire in the officers' quarters of the St. Denis Caserne to -splash through six miles of wet roads, only it was Thursday, the day -on which he invariably went to Paris, partly to pay his respects to -Charles Edward, partly to see his mother and Kate. Also, if he did not -come on Thursday there was no other opportunity for him to do so for a -week; there were only the officers of two troops quartered in the old -town, and but one night a week granted to each for leave. Therefore he -was loath to lose his turn, and to go a whole fortnight without seeing -the two creatures dearest to him in the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A rough, raw night," he said to the man at the gate as he passed in, -"a night better for indoor pleasures than the streets. You have the -best of it," glancing in at the bright fire in the man's room, "much -the best of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mais out, Monsieur le Capitaine</i>," said the custodian--who knew him -very well--following his glance as it rested on the blazing hearth and -his little girl playing with a pup before it. "<i>Mais oui</i>." Then he -said, as Bertie stooped down to tighten the buckle of his stirrup -leather, "Was monsieur expecting, <i>par hazard</i>, to meet anyone -hereabouts to-night? Any friend or person with a message?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Elphinston, partly in answer to his question, partly in -surprise. "No one. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man shrugged his shoulders in the true French manner, then he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, for no serious reason--but," and he paused and then went on -again: "There came yesterday an unknown one to me who asked how often -Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston rode into Paris. I knew not your name -then, monsieur, but his description was graphic, very graphic, so that -at once I knew he meant you. Moreover, the other officers of -monsieur's regiment come not so regularly on any day, some come not at -all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis strange," Bertie said; "I know no one who need ask for me in -this mysterious manner, especially as there is no mystery about me. My -life is simple and open enough, I should suppose. Six days a week in -garrison at St. Denis, one night a week in Paris; there is not much to -hide."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I told the man, Monsieur le Capitaine; not much to hide. -<i>Voyez-vous</i>, I said, here is the captain's life so far as I know it. -He rides in every Thursday evening about six of the clock, leaves his -horse, as I have heard him say, at an inn in the Rue St. Louis, sees -his friends, sleeps at the inn, and rides out of Paris again at six in -the morning to his duties. Not much mystery in that, <i>mon ami?</i> I said -to him. Not much mystery in that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what did he say to you in return?" asked Bertie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Little enough. Remarked that he had made no suggestion of mystery; -indeed, was not aware of any reason for such; only he desired to see -you. Asked if you wore your military dress, to which I answered <i>ma -foi!</i> no. The uniform of the Regiment of Picardy was too handsome, the -cuirass too heavy for ordinary wear, the gold lace too costly; and -that monsieur was always well but soberly attired. Also that his -horse, a bright bay, was a pretty creature, as she is, as she is," -whereon he stroked the mare's muzzle affectionately, for he himself -was an old cavalryman and knew a good horse when he saw one.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said Bertie with a laugh, "you have described me accurately, -so that my friend should know me when he sees me. However, I must not -linger here. Good-night. Good-night, <i>Bébé</i>," to the child playing -with the dog, both of whom he, who loved children and animals, had -long since made acquaintance with.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he rode through the narrow streets towards the inn where he always -put up for the night, he reflected that it might have been wise to ask -the gate-keeper for a description of the man who had been anxious to -obtain that of him; but since he had not done so there was no help for -it. Yet he could not dismiss from his mind the fact of the unknown -having inquired for him--and by name, too--nor help wondering who on -earth he could be. He pondered over every friend he could call to -mind, old comrades in the French King's service by whose side he had -fought, or comrades in the late English invasion; yet his meditations -naturally amounted to nothing. The man might have been one of them or -none of them, and, whoever he was, no amount of cogitation would -reveal him. He must wait and see what the mysterious inquirer might -turn out to be.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode into the inn he used in the Rue St. Louis, put up his horse, -and after personally seeing it attended to--for it had done duty -before starting for Paris--went into the guests' room and made a -slight meal, after which he ordered a coach to be called to take him -to Passy, where his mother lived.</p> - -<p class="normal">Later, when Bertie Elphinston had disappeared from all human knowledge -from that night, the search that was made for him elucidated what had -been his movements and actions up to a certain point, after which all -clue was lost. What those movements were have now to be told.</p> - -<p class="normal">Quitting his mother after an hour's visit, he found the same coach -standing outside the <i>auberge</i> in the street of the little suburb, -and, again hiring it, proceeded to the mansion of Charles Edward, on -the Quai de Théatin--to which he had removed from the Château de St. -Antoine, where he had resided for a short time as the guest of Louis -XV--and here he spent two more hours with his countrymen in attendance -on the prince, and with Kate. At this place he had finally dismissed -the coach, and as he left the house an episode arose which recalled to -his mind the unknown person who had inquired for him at the north -gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he descended the steps of the mansion he saw, to his surprise, -that, lurking opposite by the parapet which separated the Quai from -the river, was a man who had been standing near him when he hired the -coach outside his inn on the other side of the Seine, and who, still -more strangely, had been standing outside the inn at Passy when he -quitted his mother's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">That this man was following him was therefore scarcely to be doubted, -and, determined to see whether such was the case, he crossed the road, -stared under his hat, which was drawn well down over his features, and -then walked slowly on towards the Pont Neuf. Also, he took the -precaution of loosening his sword in its sheath.</p> - -<p class="normal">If he had had any doubts--which was not the case--they would soon have -been resolved, since, as he proceeded along the narrow footway by the -parapet, the man followed him at the same pace. Then, instantly, -Bertie stopped, faced around, and, walking back half-a-dozen paces, -said to him:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur has business with me without doubt. Be good enough to -explain it," and now he lifted his sword in its scabbard so that, -while he held the sheath in the left hand, his right grasped the -handle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I----" the man stammered. "Yes, Monsieur Elphinston----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur Elphinston! so you know me?" and a light flashed on his -mind. "Monsieur Elphinston. Ha! Perhaps it was you who inquired for me -at the north gate yesterday?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, monsieur," the man replied respectfully; "it was I who did so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you, then? What is your affair with me that you track me -thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am servant to Carvel, the exempt. I have orders to keep you in -view."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Servant to an exempt!<a name="div4Ref_05" href="#div4_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a> -What, pray, has an exempt to do with me?" -Bertie asked in astonishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That, monsieur," the man said, still very respectfully, "I cannot -say. I but obey my orders, do my duty. I received instructions that -you were to be kept under watch from the time you entered Paris, and I -am carrying them out--must carry them out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is this exempt to be found, this man Carvel? We will have the -matter regulated at once. Where is he, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If monsieur would be so complaisant as to follow me--it is but across -the Pont Neuf--doubtless monsieur will make everything clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lead on," Bertie said, "I will follow you, or, since you may doubt -me, will go first."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If monsieur pleases."</p> - -<p class="normal">At this period, and indeed for long afterwards, Paris was too often -the scene of terrible outrages committed on unprotected persons. -Men--sometimes even women--were inveigled into houses under one -pretence or another and robbed, oftentimes murdered for whatever they -might chance to have about them, and, frequently, were never heard of -again. That this was the case Bertie knew perfectly well, yet--even -after the mysterious murder of his friend at Amiens--he had not the -slightest belief that anything of a similar nature was intended -towards him. First, he was a soldier and known by the man behind him -to be one; he was armed, although now dressed as a civilian, and -therefore a dangerous man to attack. And, next, none who knew aught of -him could suppose that it would be worth while to endeavour to rob -him. The Scots officers serving in France were no fit game for such as -got their living by preying on their fellow-creatures.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still he could not but muse deeply on what could possibly be the -object of any exempt in subjecting him to such espionage, while at the -same time he hastened his footsteps over the bridge so as at once to -arrive at a solution of the matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here is the bureau of Monsieur Carvel," said the spy, as on reaching -the northern side of the river he directed his companion to a house -almost facing the approach to the bridge; "doubtless he will explain -all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless," replied Elphinston. "Summon him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The door was opened an instant after the man had rapped on it, and -another man, plainly dressed and evidently of the inferior orders, -though of a respectable type, admitted them to a room on the left-hand -side of the passage; a room on the walls of which hung several -weapons--a blunderbuss, a musquetoon or so, some swords--which Bertie -noticed were mostly of fashionable make with parchment labels attached -to them--and one or two pairs of gyves, or fetters. Also, on the walls -were some roughly-printed descriptions of persons, in some cases -illustrated with equally rough wood-cuts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So!" said the man, looking first at the spy and then at Elphinston. -"So! Whom have we here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston," the other replied. "Learning, -Monsieur Carvel, your desire to meet with him from me, he elected to -visit you at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Tiens!</i> It will save much trouble. Monsieur le Capitaine is -extremely obliging."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," said Bertie sternly, "I am not here with the intention of -conferring any obligation upon you. I wish to know why I, an officer -of the King, serving in the Regiment of Picardy, am tracked and spied -upon by your follower, or servant. I wish a full explanation of why I -am subjected to this indignity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur, the explanation is very simple. An order signed by the -Vicomte d'Argenson has been forwarded to me for your arrest, and with -it a lettre de cachet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A lettre de cachet!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, monsieur. A lettre de cachet, ordering me to convey you to the -Bastille."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE BASTILLE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal" style="font-size:smaller">"La Bastille! où toute personne, quels que soient son rang, son âge, -son sexe, peut entrer sans savoir pourquoi, rester sans savoir -combien, en attendant d'en sortir sans savoir comment."--<span class="sc">Servan.</span></p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"On what charge is that letter issued?" asked Elphinston a moment -later, when he had recovered somewhat from the stupefaction into which -the exempt's last words had thrown him. "On what charge?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur," the man replied, "how can I answer you? Nay! who could do -so? Not even De Launey, the Governor, could tell you that. These -<i>billets-doux</i> are none too explicit. They order us, the exempts, in -one letter to arrest; the Governor, in another, to receive. But that -is all. It is from the examiners, the judges, from D'Argenson himself, -wise child of a wise father! that you must seek an explanation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But there is no possible reason for it, no earthly charge that can be -brought against me. It must be a mistake!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So all say," the exempt exclaimed, repressing a faint smile that rose -to his features. "Yet, here is the name, very clearly written," and he -took from his pocket the lettre de cachet, impressed with a great -stamp, and read from it:--"'Elphinston. Scotch. Capitaine du Regiment -de Picardy. Troop Fifth, at St. Denis.' That is you, monsieur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Bertie said with a gasp. "It is I. No doubt about that."</p> - -<p class="normal">There rose before his mind, as he spoke, every story, every legend he -had ever heard in connection with the Bastille. And although it is -true that, in the days when that fortress existed, it was not regarded -in so terrible a light as time and fiction have since cast upon its -memory, it still presented itself in a sufficiently appalling aspect. -Men undoubtedly went in and came out after very short intervals of -incarceration--some doing so two or three times a year--yet, if all -reports were true, there were some sent there who never came out -again. Moreover, few who were committed could ever learn the reason -whereof until they were ultimately released, and no communication -whatever, except by stealth and great good fortune could be made with -the outer world. From the time the gates closed on them they were lost -to that outer world for the period--long or short--which they passed -there. This knowledge alone, without the aid of time and fiction, was, -indeed, sufficient to make Elphinston gasp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When," he asked, after another pause for reflection on the state in -which he now found himself, "does that lettre de cachet come into -operation--when do you propose to put it into force?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur," replied Carvel, with a swift glance at him and another at -the man standing behind, "it <i>has</i> come into operation; it is already -in force."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mean----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean that you have surrendered yourself without having to be sought -for--without having to be arrested. Please to consider it in that -light, monsieur."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To consider it in the light that I am to be conveyed to the Bastille -from here--at once?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If monsieur pleases. Though not at once--not this immediate instant. -Monsieur de Launey prefers to receive those who are sent to him at -eight o'clock in the morning. That is his hour of reception."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Bertie paused an instant, then said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"In such case I may advise my friends of this detention. It will ease -their minds--and it can be done before eight o'clock. It is now -scarcely midnight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I regret to have to say No, monsieur," and Bertie started at his -reply. "Such would be against all order, all rule. From the moment the -persons named in the lettres de cachet are in our hands they can have -no further communication with their friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What if I refuse to comply with your demands--with the demands of -that lettre de cachet? What then, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur is here," the exempt replied, "that is sufficient. It is too -late for him now to retreat. We are furnished with attendants for -escorting to the Bastille those who are arrested; monsieur will -perceive it would be vain for him to contend against us. There are at -the present moment half-a-dozen such attendants in this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," said Bertie, "I will not contend. Some absurd mistake has -been made that will be rectified as soon as I have seen the Governor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Sans doute</i>," replied the exempt; "meanwhile let me suggest to -monsieur that he should rest until it is necessary to set out. He may -yet have some hours of refreshing sleep."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not desire to sleep," Bertie said, "only to be left alone. Is -that impossible, too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By no means. We have a room here in which monsieur may remain at his -ease. But," and he pointed to the labelled swords hanging on the -walls, "it is our habit to disembarrass all who are brought here of -their weapons. Those who are arrested at their own houses or lodgings -leave them in custody there. But monsieur may rest assured of his -weapon being quite safe. If he comes out to-morrow or--or--or--a month -later, say, it will be at his service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," replied Bertie, taking off his diamond-cut civilian sword, "it -had been the weapon of my profession, you should never have had it. As -it is--take it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep it carefully," said Carvel to his men, "until Monsieur le -Capitaine returns. I guarantee you 'twill not be long ere he does so. -I myself believe, monsieur, a mistake has been made. 'Tis not with -such metal as you that Madame la Bastille is ordinarily stuffed."</p> - -<p class="normal">After this, and on receiving Bertie's word of honour that he had no -other weapon of any kind, knife nor pistol, about him, he was shown -into a room at the back of the house, where the exempt told him he -would be quite undisturbed--a room the window of which, he noticed, -was cross-barred, and with, outside the window, a high blank wall. -Here he passed the night in reflections of the most melancholy nature, -wondering and wondering again and again on what unknown possibility -could have led to this new phase in his existence. At one moment--so -far afield did he have to go to seek for some cause for his arrest--he -mused, if by any chance Fordingbridge could have come to Paris and, -exercising some to him unknown influence, have procured the lettre de -cachet. Yet he was obliged to discard this idea from his mind as he -had discarded others, when he reflected that nothing was more unlikely -than that the minister of the King would have signed an order for the -incarceration of one Englishman at the request of another. But, with -this conjecture dismissed, he had to content himself and remain as -much in the dark as before.</p> - -<p class="normal">At seven o'clock the exempt came to him and told him that it was time -to set out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A coach is ready, monsieur," he said, "all is now prepared. Would you -desire to make any toilette before your departure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie said he would, and when he had done this, laving his face and -washing his hands in a basin brought him by two of Carvel's -attendants, he announced that he was prepared to accompany him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps when I have seen the Governor of the Bastille," he said, "I -shall better understand why I am confided to his keeping."</p> - -<p class="normal">To which once more the other replied, "<i>Sans doute</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Everything being therefore ready, Carvel and Elphinston entered the -coach, while, of four men who had appeared on the scene that morning, -two went inside with them, and the others, mounting horses, rode on -either side of the vehicle. In this way they progressed through the -small portion of the city necessary to be traversed, arriving at the -fortress exactly as the great clock over the doorway--decorated with a -bas relief representing two slaves manacled together--struck eight. -That their destination was apparent to those members of the populace -by whom they passed it was easy to perceive. Women and men, hurrying -to their shops and places of business, regarded the party with glances -which plainly showed that they knew whither they were going, the -former doing so with terrified and uneasy looks, the latter according -to their disposition. Of these, some laughed and made jeering -allusions to the morning ride which the gentleman was taking; some -frowned with disapproval; and some there were who muttered to one -another, "How long? How long shall we groan under the tyranny of our -masters?" while others answered, "Not for ever! It cannot be for ever, -though the good God alone knows when the end will come. Perhaps not -even in our day!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Descend, monsieur," said the exempt, as the coach drew up; then, -turning to some sentinels within the gate which opened to receive -them, he remarked, "<i>Couvrez-vous, messieurs</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Surprised at this order, which Bertie did not understand, he glanced -at the soldiers standing about and observed that, as he approached -them, they removed their hats from their heads and placed them before -their faces until he had passed by, so that they could by no means -have seen what his appearance was like. And to the inquiring look -which he directed to his captain, the exempt replied, with a slight -laugh:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame la Bastille endeavours ever to be a polite hostess. She thinks -it not well that these fellows, who are not always in her service, -should be able afterwards to recognise her guests when they have -quitted her hospitable roof. <i>Vraiment!</i> her manners are of the most -finished. Come, Monsieur Elphinston, Jourdan de Launey attends us.<a name="div4Ref_06" href="#div4_06"><sup>[6]</sup></a> -He rises ever at seven, so as to welcome those who arrive early. Come, -I beg."</p> - -<p class="normal">Following, therefore, his guide, and followed by the men who had -escorted them, Bertie crossed a drawbridge and a courtyard, and then -arrived at a flight of stone stairs let into the wall, at which was -stationed an officer handsomely dressed, who, on seeing Elphinston, -bowed politely to him and requested that he would do him the honour to -accompany him to the Governor. Then, turning round on the exempt's -followers who came behind them, he said in a very different tone:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay where you are. Do you suppose we require your services to -welcome the arrivals? And for you, Monsieur l'Exempt, we will rejoin -you later." Whereon he opened a small door off the staircase and led -Bertie into a room.</p> - -<p class="normal">A room which astonished the young man as he stepped into it; for, -although he had often talked with people in Paris who had been -imprisoned in the Bastille, and had heard that some parts of it were -sumptuously furnished, he had not imagined that even the Governor -possessed such an apartment as this. It was, indeed, so large as to be -almost a hall, though the gorgeous hangings of yellow damask fringed -with silver and with lace made it look smaller, while at the same time -they imparted a brilliancy to the vastness of the room; and some -cabinets, bureaux, and couches distributed about also served to give -it a comfortable appearance. In front of a blazing fire--so great, -indeed, that the wonder was that any mortal could approach near -it--there stood, warming his hands, the Governor, De Launey himself, -while seated close by at a table covered with papers was a -miserable-looking person who was engaged in writing.</p> - -<p class="normal">No man, possibly, ever presented a greater contrast between his own -appearance and the dreaded position which he occupied than did Jourdan -de Launey, then an old man approaching his end. He was very thin and -very bald, with beady black eyes and a rosy face which gave him the -appearance of extreme good humour, while that which rivetted the -attention of everyone who saw him for the first time was the -extraordinary shaking, or palsy, that possessed him always. Even now, -as he stood before the huge, roaring fire, holding out the palms of -his hands to it and lifting first one foot and then another to its -warmth, he shook and shivered so that he seemed as though dying of -cold.</p> - -<p class="normal">To him the handsomely apparelled officer--whom Bertie soon learned -bore the rank of the "King's Lieutenant of his Majesty's fortress of -the Bastille"--addressed himself, saying that the Captain Elphinston -had arrived; whereon De Launey turned his back to the fire, regarded -Bertie for a moment, and then held out a long, white, shivering hand, -which the other, as he took it, thought might well have belonged to a -corpse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," he said, in a voice of extreme sweetness, though somewhat -shaken by his tremblings, "you are very welcome, though I fear this -abode may scarcely be so to you. Yet I beg of you to believe that what -can be done to put you at your ease and make you comfortable shall be -done. Moreover, permit me to tell you that which I tell all my -visitors who are not of the lower classes, nor murderers and ruffians, -who need not to be considered, that your visit here by no means brings -with it a loss of self-respect or of social position. The Bastille is -not a prison, as the <i>canaille</i> think; is not Bicêtre nor even -Vincennes; it is a place where gentlemen are simply detained at the -pleasure of his Majesty, and when they go forth they go unstained. If -you will remember that, Monsieur le Capitaine," he continued with -increased sweetness of voice, "you will, I think, repine less at our -hospitality."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie bowed, as, indeed, he could not but do to such extreme -politeness, no matter how much he resented his incarceration, then he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, I am obliged to you for your civility. Yet, monsieur, if you -would add to it by telling me with what I am charged and why I am -brought here at all, you would greatly increase my obligation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur le Capitaine," replied the Governor, "I regret to -refuse--but it is impossible. That you cannot know until you appear -before the Lieutenant of the Civil Government, or Examiner, who comes -here at periods to examine our visitors. Then, by the questions he -will ask, you will undoubtedly be able to surmise with what you are -charged."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And when will he come, monsieur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know," he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders which so blended -into one of his shivers that it was almost imperceptible, "no more -than you do. He comes when it pleases him, or, perhaps, I might more -truthfully say, when he has time, and then he interrogates those whom, -also, it pleases him. Sometimes it is our latest guest"--De Launey -never by any chance used the word "prisoner"--"sometimes those who -have been here for years. And some there are who have been here for -many--but no matter!" Then, turning to the King's Lieutenant, he bade -that officer give him Captain Elphinston's <i>mittimus</i>, or the stamped -letter containing the order for his reception and security.</p> - -<p class="normal">This letter he read carefully, during which time it shook so in his -palsied hands that Bertie could not but wonder how he could -distinguish the characters in it; after which he looked up with his -good-humoured smile and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, I felicitate you. You are of the first class of guests; beyond -restriction you will have little to complain of. The King"--and he -raised his tottering white hand to his forehead as though saluting -that monarch in person--"is, you know, your host; your pension will be -of the best. Secretary," he said, turning round sharply to the man at -the table, "read to the captain the bill of fare for the principal -guests."</p> - -<p class="normal">This man, who seemed, at least, to derive no great good from his -position, seeing that he was miserably clad in an old suit of ragged -Nismes serge, a pair of old blue breeches loose at the knees, and a -wig which had scarcely any hair left on it, began to read from a -paper, when, to Bertie's astonishment, a very different voice from the -soft tones he had recently been listening to issued from the -Governor's lips; and in a harsh, commanding way De Launey exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fellow, stand up before gentlemen! <i>Mort de ma vie!</i> do you dare to -sit and read before us?" Whereon the wretched creature sprang up as -though under the lash, and began hastily to gabble out:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Dejeuner à lafourchette</i>. Potage. A quarter of a fowl or a slice of -ox beef. A pie, a sheep's tongue or a ragout, biscuits, and rennets. A -quarter septier of wine, to suffice also for dinner and supper. -Dinner: A loaf, soup, petite pâté's, roast veal or mutton, pigeon or -pullet, or beef and toasted bread. Supper: A fish of the season, or a -bird and a chipped loaf. By order of the King, to the extent of 150 -sols a day."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he read from his paper--to which the visitor paid but little -attention, since he cared nothing about the meals he might receive--De -Launey nodded and wagged his head with approbation, and, when he -finished, exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"A noble King! Fellow," to the secretary, "begone! Go seek the -turnkey, Bluet, and bid him prepare for Monsieur le Capitaine the -second chamber of the chapel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The second chamber of the chapel! The best apartment!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" exclaimed De Launey, while he shook terribly, "do my -infirmities render me unintelligible? Ay, the second chamber; and for -you, if ever you misunderstand me again, the vault under the ditch -where the malefactors lie!" Then, putting out his long, white, -trembling hand--while all the time he smiled blandly--he nipped the -man's arm between two fingers and repeated, "Where the malefactors -lie! Where the man was eaten alive by rats! <i>Tu comprends, cher -ami?</i> Go. The second chamber in the chapel for Monsieur le Capitaine. -<i>Va!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man left the room quickly, casting a glance, half of terror and -half of hate, on De Launey, who, after regarding him till he was gone, -turned round to Elphinston with his pleasant smile, and said, "A vile -wretch that. Yet a useful one, and bound to me by the deepest ties of -gratitude. Sent here by the Jesuits some years ago. Ha! ha! The holy -fathers know how to obtain the lettres de cachet! for an unspeakable -crime--the corruption of a nun to Protestantism, saved his life by -telling them that he was the man who had been eaten by the rats, -though 'twas another. Thus I bound him to me for ever. He writes a -most beautiful hand, knows the history of every man in the Bastille, -and--ha! ha!--draws no recompense. The Inquisition injured my family -once--they burnt an aunt of mine in Seville--therefore I love to -thwart them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie inclined his head to show that he heard the Governor's words; -then the latter continued in his mellifluous strains:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Captain Elphinston, I must tell you that you should try and make -yourself as comfortable as possible here. Above all, do not dream of -an escape. Many have done so; few have succeeded--the Abbé du -Bacquoy alone of late years.<a name="div4Ref_07" href="#div4_07"><sup>[7]</sup></a> -For the walls are thick--oh, so -thick!--between each room there is a space of many feet--the windows -are barred; so, too, are the fireplaces; the ceilings cannot be -reached by two men standing one on the other's shoulders. Moreover, a -visitor seen outside his window, or on the roofs or walls, could not -escape the eyes of the sentries, and would be shot--poof!--like a -sparrow. Monsieur, let me beg you, therefore, to content yourself with -our hospitality. Later on--if you are not recalled--we will perhaps -give you some companions; we wish our guests to have the enjoyment of -society. Monsieur le Capitaine, here is Bluet, who will conduct you to -your apartment. <i>Au revoir</i>. I trust sincerely you will be at your -ease."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the ice-cold, shivering hand clasped that of Elphinston, De -Launey bowed to him with as much grace as though he were taking part -in a minuet, and, following the turnkey, who had come in with the -secretary, the prisoner went forth to his chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">Descending the stairs and out by the small door in the wall, he passed -again through the Corps de Garde, all the members of which once more -instantly took off their hats and held them before their faces. Then -he was led across a great court and in at a square door painted green, -and so up three small steps on to a great staircase, at the bottom of -which were two huge iron doors that clanged with an ominous sound -behind him. At the head of this staircase were three more gates, one -after the other--wooden gates covered with iron plates--and when these -were locked behind Elphinston also, another iron-bound door was -opened, and he stood within a great vaulted room, some sixty feet long -and about fifteen in breadth, and the same in height.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Voilà!</i>" exclaimed the secretary, "behold the second room of the -chapel. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> a fine apartment for an untitled guest! But the -old animal will have his way. Yet, why this room of princes? 'Twas -here the man with the iron mask died, they say; here that the Duke of -Luxembourg and the Marshals de Biron and Bassompiere once reposed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least," said Bertie, casting his eyes round the vault--for such it -was--"I trust there was more accommodation for those illustrious -personages than there appears for me. Am I to sleep on the floor, and -lie on it also in the day? There is neither bed nor chair here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All in good time, brave captain," replied Bluet, the turnkey, who -even at this early period of the morning appeared to be half -drunk--"all in good time, noble captain. I shall make your room a -fitting boudoir for a duchess ere night. Have no fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said the secretary, "give up all you have about you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All, everything," replied the other. "Oh, be under no apprehension; -we do not rob the King's guests; oh, no! Every visitor to this -delectable castle has to do the same, even though he be a prince of -the blood. I shall give you a note for what you hand me, and on your -sortie you will see all is as you handed to me. Yet the old <i>cochon</i>, -De Launey, loveth trinkets for his wife--young enough to be his -daughter; if you have a ring or a jewel, you can part with it; it will -be to your advantage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friend," said Elphinston, "I am a soldier who has fought in hard -wars, sometimes without even receiving a sol of any pay--as in the -last campaign in Scotland--what should I have? See, I have no rings on -my fingers, no watch to my pocket, no solitaire to my cravat. Yet, -here is my purse with a few Louis d'ors and one gold quadruple -pistole; count those, if you will," and he pitched it into the -secretary's ragged hat as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man told over the coins, muttering that the large piece was <i>bien -forte et trébuchante</i>, then made an accurate note of them and gave the -list to Bertie. "All," he said again, "will be returned you on your -exit, unless you choose to give them to Bluet and me. We get little -enough, though God knows we have also little enough--at least, I -have--of opportunities for spending. Yet even here one may have his -little pleasures," and he winked at Bertie, who turned from him in -disgust.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No trinkets on the bosom," he went on questioningly, "no lockets, nor -crosses, nor reliquaries of saints? Humph!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," replied Elphinston, "on my breast a bag of satin, in which -is a lock of hair--the hair of the woman whom I love. Fellow, do you -think I will let you take that, or even fasten your foul eyes on it! -Ask me no more; otherwise I will speak to the Governor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is against the rules," said the other, "quite against the rules, -yet----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse the rules!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," he said, "so that when you leave us you will give me one, only -one of those pieces, I will not insist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave me," said Bertie, and his voice was so stern that, followed by -the turnkey, the man slunk out of the room, and a moment afterwards -the heavy door was locked and barred on him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> - -<h5>DESPAIR!</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Left alone at last, he walked up and down the huge chamber, or vault, -his mind full of melancholy, heartbroken reflections.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God, my God!" he muttered, "what have I done that thus Thou -lettest Thy hand fall so heavily on me? What fresh sin committed, that -this fresh punishment should be mine! I have lost the one thing I -cared for in this life, lost her; now I am incarcerated here in this -place of horror, this place where men's existences, even their very -names, are forgotten as much as though they had lain for years in -their graves; this place which may be my grave." Then, a few moments -later, his heart and courage returned to him, and he murmured to -himself again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, I will not repine. That abject creature spoke of others who had -been here and yet escaped, obtained their liberty, all but him, the -hapless Masque de Fer, who drew his last breath in this gloomy -dungeon. Bassompiere, Luxembourg, De Biron, all went forth to the -world again. How many men have I not known myself who have been here? -There was one, the old Comte de Tilly, who told me he had been -incarcerated thirteen times, and that, whenever he saw the exempts in -the street, he took off his hat to them, and asked if by any chance -they happened to be seeking for him. And these walls," he exclaimed, -looking up at the blackened sides of the room, "seem to bear testimony -to many who have inhabited the place."</p> - -<p class="normal">They did, indeed; for, written all over the grimy and smoky sides of -the vault, were records left by those who had been incarcerated. In -one part of the room near the barred fireplace, through which a child -could not have crept, were the words: "The widow Lailly and her -daughter were brought into this hell on the 27th September, 1701"; in -another place was the name of a Neapolitan prince, one De Riccia, with -his remarkable motto beneath it, "Empoisona ove Strangola." And there -were scores of other names, of all countries: one, that of the -Chevalier Lynch, gentleman, of Sligo in Ireland; another, Jean -Cronier, <i>redacteur</i>, "Du Burlesk Gazette," Holland; a third, Magdalen -de St. Michel, while in a different hand underneath was written, "who -slew her husband, a King's sailor;" yet another, "the <i>Curé</i> de Méry, -falsely accused of rioting and drunkenness"; and many more. And, still -continuing his sad patrol of the room, he saw that at each corner of -it were statues of the four Evangelists, so that he understood now why -it should be called the "Room of the Chapel," though why the "second -room" he never learned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he said, as he mused in his misery, "so this place has been holy -ground, consecrated. Heavens! was ever a place of prayer turned to -such vile use since the Temple became a den of thieves?"</p> - -<p class="normal">As thus he pondered he heard the doors outside clanging, and a moment -afterwards, the unbarring of the chapel door and the harsh grating of -the key in the lock, a sound which was followed by the entrance of the -turnkey, Bluet--who appeared now more drunk than before--and another -man, also a turnkey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said the former with a hiccough, "now to arrange the boudoir. -Georges, disgorge thy burden and be gone. I have alone to do with -Monsieur le Capitaine," and, as he spoke, he reeled across the room -with a small folding table he had brought with him and placed it under -the barred and latticed window, where the light streamed on it. -Meanwhile, the other turnkey, Georges, had thrown down a huge bundle -of what was evidently bedding, and departed, to return again a few -moments later, with a tray, on which were several dishes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Voilà!</i>" Bluet muttered as he arranged the table, "behold your first -meal as guest of Madame la Bastille. A soup--of lentils--<i>bon! bon!</i> -some cockscombs in vinegar--<i>pas mal ça!</i> some chip bread, beef full -of gravy, with a garniture of parsley. Also the quarter septier of -wine--and good, too, you see, of Bourgogne. Now for more furniture to -accommodate our new guest." Whereon he reeled off to the passage and -brought back a sound wooden chair, which he placed by the table, -exclaiming, "<i>Voilà! monsieur est server</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Seeing that the fellow, in spite of his drunkenness, was doing his -best to treat him well, and reflecting also that much of any comfort -he was likely to obtain might depend on him, Bertie resolved to make a -friend of Bluet if possible; so, sitting down to the meal, he made a -semblance of eating it; and as he did so he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I did not perceive that already you have been making free enough -with the drink, I would ask you to join me. This great jar," touching -the quarter septier, which contained half a gallon at least, "is more -than I can consume in a week, yet you, I judge, could drink it all at -a sitting."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Facilement</i>. I often do. And the wine is of the best. When St. Mars -was governor here, he robbed the visitors, they say; took the King's -money for the best and gave the worst. De Launey, now, is different."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is more generous, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, more timorous. For, observe, he fears the King should find out -he is being hoodwinked. Yet, all do not drink nor eat alike here. Some -get only a <i>chopine</i> of the thinnest, one <i>plat</i> to each meal, coarse -bread, and no fruit. It depends on the degree of the personage, also -the probability of the length of his visit. Because, you see, Monsieur -le Capitaine, some seem never likely to depart--and there are many -such, I assure you, who become forgotten; there is no hope they will -ever go forth; they have no money to give away in fees--for if a -visitor wishes to reward us for our little cares, he may make an order -on De Launey to distribute some of the money he holds; they become the -guest who has outstayed his welcome. You understand, monsieur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke with an air of drunken gravity, and, although in drink, -showed so much intelligence that Bertie guessed this was the man's -normal condition. Also, the latter observed that the state he was in -by no means prevented him from being able to fulfil any duty he had to -perform. Indeed, during the time he had been enlightening Bertie as to -the customs of the Bastille, he had been arranging in a corner of the -room some furniture the other man had come back with, as well as that -which he had originally brought. Thus he had fitted up a little -truckle bedstead in one of the corners near the fireplace and under -the statue of St. Matthew which stood in the wall above, a bedstead -which had some curtains of dirty flowered stuff, with a bag of straw -for a mattress, and also a blanket as dirty as the curtains, and full -of holes, and a quilt of flock. Likewise he had brought in a great -pitcher of water, a ewer and mug, all of which were of pewter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Avec ça</i>," he said, regarding these things with a look of -satisfaction, "monsieur is well provided. Oh, well provided! Now for -this you must pay six livres a month--none of which comes to me, -alas!--and if you wish more it can be hired. Yet, faith! it is a -chamber for a King. Shall I send for a fagot and make a fire to purge -the air of the room?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said poor Bertie, "it is very well. Yet I would that the -chamber was not so vast; it is large, and draughty, and dark. Can I -not be removed into a better one--at least, a smaller one?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will come if you remain with us. Lengthened sojourns are not -made in this one. So you may content yourself with this, namely, while -you are here--in this apartment--you may go out at any moment. Now, I -have other guests to see to; I will return later with the dinner. -Adieu, monsieur," and he went away, banging, and locking, and barring -the heavy door behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the glazed window above, which had two great shutters to it -that were always closed, but had an iron gate or smaller window within -them, while outside was a green wooden lattice, Bertie could see that -the sun was shining; nay, a ray or so even forced its way through the -iron gate and illuminated a foot's breadth all along the dungeon, or -room. In one way it was, perhaps, not very welcome, for it showed -plainly the filthy condition of the floor, all incrusted with dirt as -it was, and with other refuse, such as small meat-bones, fish-bones, -egg-shells, and pieces of bread-crust trodden into it. Yet, also, to -his sad heart it brought some comfort; it spoke to him of the world -without, of the gay streets and gardens of Paris; of her, his love. -What was she doing now, he pondered; would she soon be wondering what -had become of him, and why, as once before--so long, so long ago, as -now it seemed--he had again disappeared from her and made no sign? Or -would he be free before Thursday came again?</p> - -<p class="normal">He thought, looking round the gloomy chapel, while he considered and -mused on these things, that his head might reach that little iron -gate, or <i>grille</i>, in the shutters if he placed upon the table the -chair and then stood on that, and thus he would be able to obtain a -sight of what was outside. So he set to work to place them in -position, and then, on clambering up, found that he could obtain a -view of the garden of the Bastille, and, owing to a low-roofed portion -of the fortress almost immediately in front of him, of away beyond -into the city.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the garden he perceived a lady walking, accompanied by a dog that -seemed from its action to be very old, for it moved slowly and feebly -without any gambols; and he wondered who she was, and if she might be -De Launey's wife, who was "young enough to be his daughter." The -garden itself, he could also perceive, since the chapel was no higher -than the first floor, formed the interior, or courtyard, of all towers -of the prison, and he saw that, by glancing upwards, the windows of -other rooms, or cells, were visible to him. Indeed, not only were they -visible, but so also was one of the inmates, who, as Bertie observed -him, was leaning against his little window frame with his face at the -bars as though to catch the air. He was a man somewhat over middle -age, with scowling features and long, unkempt hair, and as Bertie -regarded him he saw his lips moving as though either he was talking -to some fellow-prisoner within the room or muttering to himself. -This man fascinated Elphinston so that he could not remove his eyes -from off him--for in those other eyes there seemed to be a hell of -despair--and, as he thus looked, the man, shifting his gaze, glanced -down and across, and so saw him at his lattice. For a moment he stared -at Bertie and then made a motion to him with his finger--it seemed as -though to bid him stay where he was--and then disappeared from the -window to return a moment later with a little piece of light board in -one hand to which he pointed with the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Made more curious than ever by this, Elphinston continued to regard -him and his actions fixedly, which were as follows: First the man held -up in his right hand--his left still grasping the board--something -that appeared like a piece of burnt wood, and then, applying it to the -board, drew on it the letter N. Pointing to it, he next drew the -letters O, U, and V, then E, then A, then another U, until at last he -had spelt out the whole of the word <i>Nouveau</i>. Next, after a glance -across at Bertie, as though to ask if he understood, and seeing that -he did, he again went on with four more letters, making the word -<i>Venu</i>, and carefully finishing the sentence by drawing, last of all, -a solitary note of interrogation, and looking over to Bertie as though -awaiting his reply to the question. Receiving from him two or three -emphatic nods of the head, he began again, and this time produced a -longer sentence, which, by recollecting each word as it had been -found, Bertie made out to be (in French, of course), "I have been here -twenty-one years."</p> - -<p class="normal">At this melancholy information he tried to throw into his -features--for no action of his body could be at all apparent to the -man--as much sympathy as was possible, whereon the other again pointed -to his board and continued with his letters until he had formed the -sentence, "Have you been before the Judges?" and receiving a negative -shake from Bertie's head, again worked out, "<i>Nor I, yet</i>," and waited -as though to see what effect this stupendous piece of information -might have on a newly-arrived prisoner.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the unhappy man desired to see horror depicted on that newcomer's -face--if such a sight could be gratifying to him who had lived -forgotten there so long, without, perhaps, even knowing why he was so -detained, he must indeed have been gratified. For as that terrible -sentence came out letter by letter on the board, Bertie shrank back -from the lattice, while his countenance must plainly have shown to the -other the emotions of pity mixed with dread and dismay with which the -communication had filled him. "Twenty-one years," he muttered to -himself, forgetting even for the moment his new-found acquaintance -opposite, "twenty-one years without knowing what he is charged with; -without hope. My God! what has his life been during that time; -waiting, waiting always! And it may be so with me," he thought, -shuddering as he did so, "it may be my case. I am twenty-six years old -now; at forty-seven I may still be in this prison, untried, -uncondemned, yet unreleased--no nearer to my freedom than now." And -again he shuddered.</p> - -<p class="normal">He glanced over to the unhappy prisoner in the opposite tower as he -finished these reflections, and saw that he was waiting for his -attention to begin his letters again. And, once more fascinated by -their terrible revelations, he watched eagerly as the next sentence -was formed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly the words were composed, letter by letter; slowly they met his -eyes, and seemed to numb his brain and strike a chill to his heart. "I -am not the worst case," the prisoner spelt out. "Above you in the Tour -de la Bertaudière is one who has been here for forty-two years. -Untried still!" Then, with a wave of his hand, the man vanished from -his window--perhaps because he heard the gaoler coming into his -room--and Bertie saw him no more that day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet that which he had gleaned from his opposite neighbour was enough -to furnish him with sufficient food for miserable reflections all -through the remainder of the day, and far into the night when he lay -sleepless on his unclean bed. Bluet had visited him twice during that -period, bringing him two more meals--each good enough in its way, and -with different meats at each, but badly cooked; and on the second -occasion, and when he could perceive through the lattice that night -was coming on, the turnkey had offered to let him have some light if -he wished it. High up above the latticed window there was an iron -socket into which a candle could be fitted, or on to which a lamp -might be swung, and Bluet had volunteered to bring in a ladder and -place the light there if Elphinston desired it. But he replied, "No, -he wanted nothing. He would try to sleep till daybreak, try to rest. -The day had been long enough for him already."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ma foi! sans doute!</i>" the fellow replied, he seeming neither more -nor less drunk than he had been at nine o'clock in the morning. "<i>Sans -doute</i>, monsieur is fatigued, yet he must not lose heart. If the -judges do not release him ere long, he shall be moved to another -chamber where, perhaps, he will have some society. There is plenty -here. Of all sorts. Then monsieur will be gay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gay!" exclaimed Bertie. "Gay! In this place?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why not? Oh, figure to yourself, there is gaiety here and to -suffice. Hark now to that! Hark, I say!" and at the moment he spoke -Bertie heard a voice in his own tongue trolling forth a drinking song.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! ha! <i>Mon Dieu!</i>" exclaimed the turnkey, "it is the gallant -captain. Also a captain like monsieur, but of the road. They say he -stopped the Cardinal's carriage at Fontainebleau not so long ago, yet -this he denies. And a spy, too, of England, they say. He plays the big -game. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> listen! he sings well, though I understand no word -of your somewhat severe and sombre tongue."</p> - -<p class="normal">Severe and sombre though it might be, it did not sound so as the -gallant captain shouted forth his drinking song.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He's gay," said Bluet; "he has found a new companion--one, however, -who will scarce join in his mirth. A miserable creature sent in by the -priests, a murderer, they hint. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> either he will desolate -the captain or the captain will drive him mad with his carousings."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which, and having wished Bertie "a good-night and good repose," -he took himself off, and, ere the latter slept, he could have sworn he -heard Bluet's harsh voice joining in a song with the captain, though -this time in the French language.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he thought to himself as, after having knelt by his wretched bed -and prayed for mercy from his God, he flung himself upon it, "so 'tis -to this pass I am brought--I, who have served the French King -faithfully for years, who have committed no crime against him. And am -I doomed to remain here forgotten? Perhaps be like that other one with -whom I communicated to-day, or that still more unhappy man whose life -has been spent in these awful walls. Forty-two years, he said of -him--forty-two years!" And again he applied that second case to -himself as he had done the first. "Forty-two years! I shall be then -sixty-six. All, all will be dead and gone. My mother long since, Kate -almost of a certainty; Douglas, too; even the scoundrel Fordingbridge! -O God!" he cried, wrought up by these reflections, "release me from -this place, I beseech Thee, release me; even though it be only by -death. Let me not linger on here untried for a fault I know not of, -uncondemned and forgotten. Take my life, but not my freedom while I -live. What have I done? What have I done?" And with such a heartbroken -prayer as this on his lips Bertie Elphinston fell asleep at last, if -that can be termed sleep which was no more than a disturbed -forgetfulness--a broken slumber from which he would wake with a start -as some sound from other parts of the prison penetrated his chamber, -or a rat would scamper across his bed and touch his hand with its -foul, dank coat.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>AT LAST.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The days went on slowly and without anything to distinguish them from -one another, until, at last, it seemed to Bertie in his dungeon that -he would soon lose count of them, would forget how many had passed -since first he entered the prison, and would become confused as to the -days of the week. Every night he heard the roaring of the English -"captain"--if such he was--and every day he communicated with the -prisoner in the tower opposite to him, but these alone were the -incidents of his life, for beyond the visits of Bluet with his meals, -no one came near him. And he thought ever of what those outside would -imagine had become of him. With that opposite prisoner, for whose -appearance at his window he looked eagerly every morning, he had now -established an almost perfect system of corresponding, so that, -although their intercourse was naturally very slow, it was at least -something with which to beguile many weary hours. He had been unable -to discover any board which would answer to the one on which his -strangely made friend wrote and rubbed out letter after letter and -formed his words, but as he had found several large pieces of paper in -a corner of the chapel, he had managed to shape a number of large -letters--indeed, all of the alphabet--which, by holding each up -successively, answered the purpose equally well. And thus they -corresponded slowly and wearily, but still intelligibly, and in that -way the monotony of their lives was relieved. Yet even this was not -always practicable, and sometimes they had to desist from -communicating with each other at all since, on certain days the -sentries were set on the tower in which the man was, and would have -discovered their correspondence had they not discontinued it. But at -other times the men's duty took them to other parts of the prison -roof--for the <i>corps de garde</i> was not strong, the walls, locks, and -bars being alone considered sufficient to prevent any attempt at -escape--and then they were uninterrupted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am alone in my cell," the other had communicated to Bertie, "and my -name is Falmy. I am of Geneva. Of the Reformed faith. I know of no -other reason why I am here so long. Fleury sent me here the year -before he was Cardinal."</p> - -<p class="normal">Every morning, however, he prefaced any other message to Bertie by the -question, "Have you been examined yet?" and as each day the other -shook his head he seemed by his expression to show that he regretted -such was the case.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you are not examined soon, your stay may be long. But take heart," -he signalled, "the principal examiner is extremely irregular, yet he -comes at last in most cases."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has not done so in yours, poor friend," returned Bertie, "nor in -the case of him who has been here forty-two years! Who is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Le Marquis de Chevagny, of near Chartres. It was the Grand Monarque -who sent him here. He is forgotten. In December he will have been here -forty-three years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What was his fault?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He wrote a <i>pasquinade</i> on Madame La Vallière. She obtained the -lettre de cachet from the King."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," signalled back Bertie, "for that he has suffered forty-three -years!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will suffer till he dies. Louis and La Vallière have been long -dead, so have all of their time. He is forgotten. He will never go -forth. Nor shall I. Those who are forgotten are lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">With such recitals as these it was not surprising that Bertie's heart -should sink ever lower; that as days followed days and grew at last -into weeks, he began to feel sure that for him the gates of his prison -would never open. He, too, would be forgotten by those who had sent -him there; would he, he asked himself, be forgotten by those who loved -him? No one knew that he was incarcerated in those dreadful walls, -that fortress in which one was as much shut off from the world as in a -tomb. No one would ever know!</p> - -<p class="normal">He consulted Falmy one day as to whether there was no possibility of -communicating with that outer world, no chance of letting some friend -who could interest himself in his behalf know where he was, but in -reply the other only shook his head moodily. Then, after staring out -of his window for some moments, with always in his face that look of -despair which Bertie had observed from the first and had been so -fascinated by, Falmy made a sign to him to attend, and began his -letters again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," he signalled, "one chance alone, be confined with some -prisoner whose release may come while you are together. Then to send a -message to your friends. By word of mouth alone. No written line can -go forth. All are searched for letters ere they are let go."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie thought a moment, then he asked: "Can I get changed to another -room?" Again Falmy shook his head gloomily and pondered. But another -thought appeared to come to his mind, and he signalled:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will be changed ere long if you are not released or examined. -None remain in the chapel who are to stay in this devil's den. I have -made many friends at your window, and lost them all. Soon I shall lose -you," and as he finished the last word Bertie saw Falmy's face working -piteously and knew that he wept. And he, his heart torn with both -their griefs, wept too, and left his window suddenly to throw himself -on his bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the days went on, and the weeks, and he knew, by the notches -he made on the wall as each fresh dawn broke, as well as by the -increased cold, that the depth of winter had come. On the roof of the -Tour de la Bertaudière he could see the snow lying now, or heard it -fall into the garden with a thud when a slight thaw happened, while -the cold became so intense that neither he nor Falmy could stay long -at the window to communicate with each other. He had given various -little orders to Bluet for payment out of his stock of Louis d'ors -during this time, so that the man still looked after him well, and he -had a few fagots of wood allowed him, or rather found him, in -consequence, over which he would sit and shiver, though the large -bulging bars in front of the grate prevented him from getting near -enough to the sticks to derive much warmth from them. And often he was -driven to seek his pallet and lie huddled up in the foul bedding to -keep himself from perishing.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the weeks went on now, and he was there, though he had -begged the turnkey to ask the Governor to remove him to a warmer and -smaller room, and also to some place where he might have company. But -Bluet had only shrugged his shoulders and said that such a request was -useless, adding that De Launey was a brigand who would do nothing -until it pleased him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," replied Bertie, "he said he would do his best for me and make -me comfortable. Comfortable! comfortable! My God!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poof! poof?" exclaimed Bluet. "You must not believe in him. He is -full of words to those who come in--<i>le sal Gascon!</i>--because he knows -not how soon they may go out again, nor whether they may not have come -in by mistake--as <i>mon Dieu!</i> many have--nor what trouble those who go -out may plunge him into. But once he finds they are not going--that is -to say, not going just at once--why, then he possesses the Bastille -memory which, <i>ma foi!</i> means an agreeable forgetfulness. <i>Tenez!</i> -have no hopes from that shivering <i>escargot!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am doomed, then, to die in this vault--to be killed by the cold and -the draughts!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Non, non</i>, be calm. You will go forth. None but princes and marshals -stay long here. And there has been a clearing from above; many have -departed; there is room for you now. Soon I shall remove monsieur."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are gone? Any who have been here long?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. Many new ones, and one who was here eight years--by a mistake. He -was a Hollander, a doctor, and--<i>mort de ma vie!</i>--they thought he was -Schwab, the Alsatian poisoner. He now is gone, and the pig, De Launey, -entertained him to breakfast ere he went, though he would allow him -only <i>la petite bouteille</i> while he remained. And the captain of the -road, the sweet singer of songs, he is gone too, only 'tis to the -Place de Grève, for a certain purpose," and he motioned to his throat -as he spoke and winked at the other, who shuddered. Vile and dissolute -as the man's roarings and carousals had been, they had served to cheer -him up in his loneliness and desolation, and he regretted his fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another week passed, and Bertie, who had now contracted a terrible -cold and cough that plagued him at nights, began to believe that he -would never leave the chapel alive, when Bluet, coming with his -breakfast one morning, told him that he was to be moved.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!" exclaimed the poor prisoner, "thank God! it cannot be -worse than this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said the turnkey, "because where you are going to you will find -<i>la société</i>. Though, <i>par hazard</i>, I know not if it will enchant you -much. There is the oldest pensioner of Madame La Bastille, the Marquis -de Chevagny--a sad man, taking little enjoyment of his life--though he -should be used to it by now! and another, a fool, a madman, they say a -murderer. But I know not. However, he is a compatriot of Monsieur le -Capitaine, an Englishman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is his name?" asked Bertie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur, to many there are no names in the Bastille. Only numbers, -with few exceptions, such as that of De Chevagny, of whom we are -justly proud. He is a credit to us and to our care. Still, I doubt not -you will soon find out the idiot's name. He has his sane moments, -though they are few. But his principal remark is that he trusts the -wheel is not too painful. 'Tis to that he is bound to go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An idiot! And sent to the wheel, even though a murderer! Will they do -that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, they will. For, <i>tenez</i>, monsieur"--and he laid a dirty finger -along his nose and looked slyly at Bertie--"he is a prisoner of the -Church, of the priests. He has outraged them. Do you think he will -escape their claws if he were forty thousand times as mad?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"When shall I join this company?" asked Bertie. "I shall be glad to -go. At least, the Marquis de Chevagny should be an interesting -companion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At once. I will go fetch Pierre to assist in carrying up your baggage -and furniture, and then the King's Lieutenant will escort you to the -<i>calotte</i>. And, cheer up, 'tis high, but pleasant; you can see <i>tout -Paris</i>, and the top windows of the Rue St. Antoine. <i>Ma foi!</i> a gay -view, a fine retreat."</p> - -<p class="normal">While the man was gone, Bertie placed the table and chair against the -wall and sprang on top of them, and since it was Falmy's usual time -for being at the window, was happy in finding him there. "Adieu," he -signalled as rapidly as he possibly could, "I go to one of the -<i>calottes</i>. I pray we may be able to correspond as before." Then in an -instant he knew by the light in Falmy's face that such was the case, -for he nodded and himself began to signal back: "If not the one above -me, we can. I----" but at this moment Bertie heard Bluet coming back -to the door, and, hurriedly jumping down, replaced the chair and table -in their accustomed position. He had never been able to judge whether -the turnkey would have remonstrated at this correspondence with -another prisoner, and perhaps have caused it to be stopped. He did -not, indeed, think he would do so, but he had always taken precautions -to prevent him knowing what they did, and he took them now on this the -last occasion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bluet was attended by the other turnkey, Pierre, and accompanied by -the King's Lieutenant, who was second in command in the prison; and -while the two former busied themselves in getting together his bed and -linen, as well as his furniture, the latter addressed him with that -French etiquette and politeness which so often does duty for -kind-heartedness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur has, I trust, found himself as comfortable as circumstances -will permit," he said, "and has wanted for nothing. The food served in -this chapel is always of the first order."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have nothing to complain of," replied Elphinston; "since I am here, -I must take what comes. Yet, I wish you would answer me a question or -so, monsieur. You are, or have been, a soldier, like myself. May not -that ancient comradeship of arms make you gracious enough to do so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not the graciousness I lack," replied the officer, "it is the -power. For, Monsieur Elphinston, you must surely know we are vowed to -silence and secrecy within these walls. It is more than our posts, -nay, our heads, are worth to answer questions or divulge secrets."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I could know," said Bertie, "when I shall be interrogated it would -be much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No mortal man in the Bastille can tell you that," the King's -Lieutenant interrupted, "not even De Launey himself. The examiner, or -judge, comes at fitful times and without warning. He came a week ago; -he may come again next week; he may not come again for a year, or for -two years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it because he did not concern himself with my case a week ago that -I am now moved?" Bertie asked wistfully; "is it because I am passed -over and may have to wait a long time now that this change takes -place?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The officer shrugged his shoulders and turned his face away. He was a -soldier and had a heart within him, in spite of being the Lieutenant -of the Bastille, and he could not reply that Bertie had guessed -accurately, that it was because he had been passed over, and might, in -consequence, be passed over for years, that he was now removed from -the chapel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see. I understand," Bertie said. "I understand very well. I may -linger on here till I am old; I may become, if I live long enough, the -oldest prisoner!" Then, once more addressing the Lieutenant, he said, -though without any hope of receiving an answer:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I could only know to whom or what I owe this incarceration it -might ease my mind; might, perhaps, enable me to confute the charge -that in years to come may be brought against me. Can you not help -me!--me, a brother soldier?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Bluet and Pierre had left the chapel with the furniture and bedding, -so that they were alone now, and the Lieutenant, glancing round the -place, said softly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you no suspicion? Can you not guess? Does not your memory point -to one whom you have injured?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My memory," replied Bertie, "points to one who has injured me and -those I love so deeply that, if had the power, he would have caused me -to be sent here. But even his devilish malignity could not procure him -that. He cannot have the power."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had thought of Fordingbridge over and over again as the man whose -hand might have inflicted this last deadly blow, yet he could never -convince himself that it could indeed be he. He would be almost as -much an outcast now, if in the city, as he would have been in London -with a price upon his head. How, he had asked himself, could it be -Fordingbridge?</p> - -<p class="normal">And the Lieutenant's next words, uttered in almost a whisper, in spite -of their being still alone, seemed to confirm his doubts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Think again," he said; "reflect on some other than this one you -mention; on one whom you injured, whose ambition you thwarted in its -dearest design; on one who is powerful, has the ear of the King, who -could send you here, and did so. Reflect!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie drew back in amazement and stared at the Lieutenant, unable to -believe his own ears. Then he repeated:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whose ambition I thwarted! One who is powerful--the friend of the -King! Oh, 'tis impossible, impossible! Some awful mistake has been -made. I know no one such as that. No one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, clasping his hands together, while his voice rang out clear and -distinct in that vaulted chapel, he exclaimed, "For God's sake, help -me in this! For God's sake, tell me to whom you refer!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush!" said the other. "Hush! They are coming back. And as for the -name, it must never pass my lips. If the recollection of your own -actions cannot help you now, I can do no more;" and, seeing the -turnkeys at the door, he said in his usual tones, "Monsieur, follow me -to your new apartment."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dazed with what he had heard, Elphinston obeyed him, and slowly -they went through the gloomy passages and up more stairs through -iron-plated doors, until they stood at the one which opened into the -<i>calotte</i> of the tower above the chapel--so called because, being the -topmost chamber in the roof, it resembled a <i>calotte</i>, or fool's cap, -or extinguisher.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Messieurs," said the Lieutenant to the inmates of the room when the -door had been unlocked and unbarred, "allow me to present to you a -comrade. Let me trust you will be agreeable to each other. Monsieur de -Chevagny, you are the father of the house; I commit him to you." Then, -glancing over to a bed in the corner, on which a dark-haired man lay -sleeping with his face turned to the wall, the Lieutenant shrugged his -shoulders and said, "<i>Mon Dieu! le fou</i> sleeps heavily. Well, we need -not disturb him. No presentations are necessary with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man addressed as Chevagny--whom Bertie could not but regard with -interest, despite the whirl in which his brain was at the strange, -inexplicable revelations of the Lieutenant--rose with courtesy from a -chair as his name was mentioned, and, coming towards Bertie, held out -a thin hand. His hair was snow-white and of great length, while his -face, partly from age and partly, perhaps, from long confinement, was -shrivelled and wan. What his clothes might have originally been it was -impossible to guess; now they were a mass of rags and tatters, patched -in some places, in others hanging in shreds. Round his neck he wore -for a cravat the sleeve of an old shirt; while the soles of his shoes, -which were full of holes, were joined to the upper parts by pieces of -pack thread. All over his face there grew a great beard as white as -the hair on his head, and this may have helped to keep him warm, -especially as over his breast it was tucked inside a shirt that was -almost black from long wear. Yet, with all this ragged misery, those -features of his face which his hair and beard allowed to be seen were -refined and elegant, were the features of a well-born man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," he said to Bertie as he held out his hand, "what there is here -I welcome you to, and I can only pray that it may not be your lot to -grow as familiar with this place as I have become. For now--now--" and -Bertie could see his old lips tremble as he spoke, "this place has -grown through my unhappiness to be the only spot on earth that I know -of--my only home."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur le Marquis," said Bertie, "for your greeting, sad as it is -and sad as is the spot where we meet, I thank you. So long as I am -here--so long!--I shall respect and pity you."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had taken no heed of the figure on the bed while he was speaking, -having, indeed, his back turned to it, but now it forced him to -observe it.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, as he spoke for the first time, that figure--its wild eyes -staring as though about to start from its head, and its hands opening -and shutting convulsively--was kneeling on the bed, muttering, -whining, gasping behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, turning round suddenly and seeing its contortions and its awful -maniacal fear, Bertie reeled back across the <i>calotte</i>, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God! Fordingbridge! Face to face at last!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> - -<h5>BROKEN HEARTS.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Yet in that very moment he knew that once more Fordingbridge had -escaped his vengeance. He recognised in the creature which had flung -itself at his feet and was moving, grimacing, and chattering there, -that he was mad--that he could no longer right his wrongs by choking -the life out of it. Those wild, misty eyes, extended to their utmost -with fear and maniacal frenzy, told only too plainly that the brain -behind them was gone for ever, that henceforward he had to do with a -thing that lived, it was true, but had no sense nor reason. Yet the -maniac recognised him, he observed, was striving in his way to sue for -mercy--could he be so mad as to be safe from his revenge?</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know him?" asked the marquis, in his sad, weak voice, he having -witnessed the scene with astonishment. "You know him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To my bitter cost. Until to-day I thought--so much has he wronged -me--that to him also I owed my detention here. Yet that, it seems now, -can hardly be. Monsieur, how long has he been your companion?"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Chevagny paused a moment as though endeavouring to count the time -since first his companion had been there--his blue eyes gazing out -wistfully to the Rue St. Antoine, the roofs of which could plainly be -seen from this room--then he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I -cannot tell. I do not know. I have lost the power of keeping count. -Yet--yet--it must be many weeks. We had no fire when first he came, -and--and--the swallows were---- No," he broke off, "I cannot -remember."</p> - -<p class="normal">That told Bertie much; told him that it could scarcely have been -Fordingbridge who had been the cause, even though indirect, of his -being seized and sent here. They must have come in almost at the same -time. Who, then, was the strange, mysterious man of power--the friend -of the King, of whom the Lieutenant had spoken, the man whose deadly -vengeance he had incurred?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Begone!" he said to his old enemy, still grovelling at his feet; -"away from me, I say. Heavens!" he exclaimed, "must this companionship -be added to my other sufferings? Is the Bastille so small, or are its -chambers so crowded, that this wretch and I could not be kept apart? -Oh, what an irony of Fate that I who have sought him so long must meet -him thus!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur," said De Chevagny, while still Fordingbridge knelt at -Bertie's feet, wringing his hands and muttering, "monsieur, if his -wrongs to you, his evil doings, are not beyond all forgiveness, you -may pardon him now, almost pity him. He is doomed to death, I hear; -nothing, not even his madness, can save him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pity him!" exclaimed Bertie, "pity him! He has ruined, broken my life -for ever; how can I pity him? And, even though he be not the cause of -my presence here, I curse the hour that he was born, the day that -threw him across my path!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say," repeated the wretched maniac, his eyes glinting about the -room in his frenzy, "they say nothing can save me. The priests will -have my blood, will have me broken upon the wheel, will even refuse me -absolution at the last. Yet I confessed to one of them--I confessed--I -should be spared."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What fresh crime have you committed that brings you here?" asked -Elphinston sternly of him. "What deed of treachery--or worse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I slew him," said Fordingbridge, still shaking all over, "because I -hated him, because he wrought my downfall. I came behind him -on--on--the <i>place</i>, I had the knife up my sleeve thus," and he bent -his hand as though to illustrate the holding of a concealed dagger's -hilt in it, "and when he turned from me I drove it home. He was dead a -moment afterwards. Dead! Dead at my feet!" and he leered hideously as -he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who was it you assassinated thus, in a manner so well becoming all -your actions? Some poor, feeble creature unable to protect himself; -some old man or stripling, perhaps, and unarmed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Was it well that Bertie did not suspect? If he had known, if he could -but have known or guessed that, so far from being such as he imagined, -the victim had been his own stalwart friend and comrade who had fallen -beneath the foul assassin's knife, could he have restrained himself -enough not to have dashed his brains out against the prison walls?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! ha!" laughed Fordingbridge, while at the same time there came -into his eyes the awful look of cunning so peculiar to maniacs--"ha! -ha! I know. But the secret's mine--mine--and the priests'. Yet, though -I confided in them--confessed to them--they still denounced me, will -now slay me. They say," he went on, putting out a long, shaking finger -and endeavouring to touch the arm of the poor old marquis, who shrank -back from him as from some foul creature, "they say that not even my -English peerage can save me, since the priests are determined to have -vengeance. Do you think that is so? Will they kill an English peer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," said De Chevagny coldly--for now he knew that the creature -he had pitied when first he came to this room was a cold-blooded -assassin who had probably gone mad from terror afterwards--"there is -no reason why they should not. The priests have slain many French -peers who were not murderers--Son Eminence Grise more than a hundred, -they say. Why should they not slay an English peer who is such as you -are?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not by the wheel," Fordingbridge moaned, "not by the wheel. Oh, -to think of it!" and again he mowed and mouthed as he spoke. "I have -seen men killed thus--there was one at--at--I forget the place--my -memory is gone--but I saw him. They broke his bones with iron bars, -and finished by beating in his chest-bone, and----" breaking off -inconsequently, "I want my dinner; I am hungry."</p> - -<p class="normal">In disgust the others turned away from him, while he threw himself on -his bed in the corner and moaned again that he was hungry.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have had many strange companions in this cell in my time," said -Chevagny, in his quiet, sad tones, "but never one like this. It is an -insult to put such as he is in with us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will they execute him as he fears?" asked Bertie. "I had always -thought that the Bastille detained its prisoners or sent them forth -free. I knew not that condemned men went from it to meet their death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Many have so gone forth," the other replied, "though generally only -traitors. Yet this man stands in evil case, too; he has murdered, I -judge from what he has now said, a priest--a Jesuit; if so, he must -die, for the Jesuits are powerful in the Bastille--Gerville, the -chaplain, is himself one. And, if he is a murderer, he should die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth he should," replied Bertie, "nor would I lift a finger to -save him. For he is a murderer in more senses than one: he has slain -two lives already--my own and another. I had sworn to myself to kill -him if we ever met; we have done so, and lo! I cannot slay him. No -matter, let the Place de Grève do its work!"</p> - -<p class="normal">That he should feel no pity for the wretch lying there on his bed was -not strange; he had wrought far too much bitter woe to Elphinston for -such a sentiment to rise into his heart. Indeed, instead of pity, -there had come into his mind now a great desire to discover, if -possible, who the victim could be whom Fordingbridge had slain. He had -not actually said it was a priest, though the Marquis de Chevagny had -suggested that it was one, and as Bertie pondered on all this a -terrible idea flashed into his mind--was the victim Archibald Sholto? -He knew that Fordingbridge hated him, he knew that Archibald possessed -many secrets of his; could it be that he had come upon him unawares -and slain him? If so, if such was the case, then it was not strange -that the Jesuits had determined upon his execution. And as he -reflected on all this he determined that, if Fordingbridge were not -taken away to his doom at once, he would find out who it was that had -fallen victim to his treachery.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bluet came in as he made these resolutions, and began busying himself -with preparing their midday meal, laying three covers at the table in -the middle of the room. As, usual the fellow was in his accustomed -semi-drunken condition, which Bertie had long since discovered was -owing to his habit of abstracting some or all of the prisoners' wine -ere he brought it to them--a pleasing custom none complained of, since -he was, otherwise, an obliging rascal; and, as usual, he began to -chatter in his familiar manner to those in the <i>calotte</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ma foi!</i>" he exclaimed, "if things go on as they now are, we shall -soon have no guests at all. The examiners come again to-night; we are -informed they will dine with <i>le vieux singe</i> De Launey; there will be -some clearances to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was natural that at these words hope should spring into the breast -of Elphinston; that he should be excited with the thought that now his -case might be considered. Also, perhaps, it was natural that to De -Chevagny they caused not the slightest emotion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is--is there any possibility, any chance of knowing who will be -called before them?" asked the former. "Can you, Bluet, give any -guess?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu! non</i>," replied the other, "not the least. When D'Argenson, -who is the presiding Examiner, has supped--and, Heavens! he will -punish old De Launey's <i>vin de Brequiny</i>, which is a wine to make the -goats dance--then he will call for the list of our visitors, and will -go over it from the first here to the last; and from that list he will -select the names of some, but who they will be D'Argenson and his -friend, the devil, alone can tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There will be one," said the marquis softly, "whose name at least he -will not select--one who is forgotten by all outside these walls. Yet, -how well he was known and loved once by many--by many!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Monsieur le Marquis," said the good-natured vagabond, trying to -cheer him, "what should we within the walls do if he did not forget -you? <i>Mon Dieu!</i> I would disband myself, would go forth also if you, -the father of our company, our Bastille flower, left us. <i>Non, non</i>, -marquis, we cannot part with you. You are our father, our pride."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was here," said the poor old prisoner, shaking his head--and -as he did so he shook a drop from each of his eyes on to his long -beard--"when Bernaville was Governor. He put me first in the Tour de -la Comte, where Lauzun had been, and where, when he tried to escape, -they hanged his servant outside his door as a warning; him they dared -not hang; and then I thought always that the Examiner--it was -D'Argenson's father in those far-off days--might send for me. But he -never did, he never did. And none have sent for me yet, and never -will. You will go," he said, looking at Elphinston, "as the others -have gone, and he," looking at the maniac on the bed, "will go to his -doom, but I shall remain until I go, too--unto my grave. Ah, my grave, -my grave! And then--I may see again the young wife they took me -from--'tis almost forty-three years ago--and the little babe I left -slumbering on her breast; the little child that we were going to make -so brave a feast over and christen Brigide because it was my mother's -name, because it had blue eyes like hers."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie had turned his face away from the old man to hide his tears, -and now he took him by the hand and wrung it softly, while Bluet, who, -for a turnkey of the Bastille, seemed also much affected, exclaimed -boisterously:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Courage, courage, monsieur! We may lose you yet to our desolation. -And Madame la Marquise may welcome you still--without doubt she lives -for you--and <i>la petite mademoiselle</i>, now surely a great lady, as a -De Chevagny must be. Heart of grace, monsieur, heart of grace, and see -the fine dinner I have brought you! <i>Regardez moi ça</i>. Here is a -fish--<i>ombre chevalier</i>, of the best--and two pigeons, some beef with -the gravy in it, and a salad, some rennets and biscuits, and, for the -wine, two little bottles. Because, you see, monsieur," turning to -Bertie with a husky whisper, "here in the <i>calottes</i> the visitors -drink not with such abundance as in the chapel rooms. 'Tis not my -fault."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," exclaimed the marquis, in a stern voice very different from -that in which he had just spoken, and regarding the table fiercely, -"have you placed three covers? Who are the three?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> you are three, monsieur. <i>Le fou</i>--the English lord--must -eat too, is it not so? The portion is for three, and a good one at -that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is a villain!" exclaimed the old marquis, his eyes flashing. "He -shall not sit at the table. I thought his drivellings of murder were -not true, until this gentleman came, and that he was a harmless idiot. -Now, I know he is a villain. And--and--I am a gentleman--a peer of -France--he shall not sit at meat with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith! then he must eat on his bed. Here, fool," Bluet exclaimed, -going up to Fordingbridge, who seemed more dazed than ever, though he -had been regarding the food eagerly; "the marquis will not have you at -the table; eat there!" and he flung a platter down before him, on -which there was some of the beef and salad, and an apple, or rennet, -all mixed together.</p> - -<p class="normal">The miserable wretch sprang at the portion like a wild beast that was -famished, and devoured it in a few moments, and then threw himself on -the bed again and either slept or pretended to do so, while the -marquis and Bertie, taking no notice of him, discussed their meal, -which, in spite of Bluet's eulogies, was not a very solid one. And -during its progress they took the opportunity of telling each other a -good deal of their various affairs and history, though, since the poor -marquis had been immured so many years, his did not take long in the -recital. Yet it was pitiful to hear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had been married but a year," he said. "I was young--but -twenty-five--well to do; nay, rich and happy. Then I wrote a little -<i>ballade</i>, a harmless one, upon La Vallière; it was sung about the -streets, it reached Marly and Versailles, and--and--that was all! A -week later I was here--and it is forty-three years ago. O Jeanne, my -wife! O Brigide, my little child, my babe! where are you both now? -Forty-three years! Forty-three years! Forty-three years! If they -should see me they would not know me. Jeanne could not recognize in me -the young husband who was torn from her side; my little girl never -knew me, will never know me now."</p> - -<p class="normal">That Bertie's expressions of pity and sympathy with the poor old -prisoner eased his grief he could not flatter himself, nothing could -bring comfort, he knew, to that broken heart and wasted life. -Moreover, he was himself too appalled, too overshadowed, by the dread -of what might be his own fate to give much consolation to the other. -He was young, almost as young as the marquis had been when he was -brought here; he might be here, in this very <i>calotte</i>, forty-three -years hence. Could there be any horror greater than this to look -forward to? Anything more dreadful than such as this, to freeze the -very life out of him!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, he hoped that it was not possible; he even hoped that to-night, -when the judges came, might see his liberty announced. For he knew now -that he must be the victim of some awful error; there was no man in -France whom he had injured, no man whom he knew who held the rank and -power which the King's Lieutenant said his enemy held. How, then, -could he have come here except by a mistake?</p> - -<p class="normal">Bluet brought their supper at eight o'clock and announced to them that -D'Argenson had arrived with two other examiners, or judges, as they -were termed indifferently; that they were supping with De Launey, and -that, when this was finished, they would proceed to the great hall, -where those who were to be examined would be summoned one by one -before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And when--when," asked Bertie, "shall I know if--if--I am passed -over?" while it seemed to him as he spoke as though his tongue cleaved -to the roof of his mouth so that he was scarcely intelligible.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bluet shrugged his shoulders ere he answered, then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis scarce possible to say. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> in this place day and night -scarce know distinction. They may sit till daybreak--I have known them -do it when making a great clearance, and we have had to rouse our -guests from their beds to go before them. Yet, 'tis not always so; -ordinarily, by midnight, the affair is finished."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So that," said Bertie, "I can know nothing for certain until the -morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Bluet shrugged his shoulders, again he answered dubiously that, -"<i>en vêrité</i>, that might be so;" and then, saying that "Monsieur le -Capitaine must hope for the best," he took himself off.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, in this hapless frame of mind, Bertie sat down to pass the first -night in his new lodging. That he should sleep was impossible, and -therefore bidding the marquis, who had already got into his bed, -"Good-night," he dragged a chair in front of the barred fireplace and -sat there brooding through the hours. Of Fordingbridge, who was lying -outside his bed, neither of the others had taken any heed, and even -when he muttered incoherently Bertie regarded him not.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he sat there watching the fire die, he heard the great clock over -the gateway strike eleven; as he still sat on, listening for any sound -which might announce the coming of those who would be sent to fetch -him, he heard it strike twelve. Yet still no one came. By this time -the candle in the socket high up out of reach was flickering and -flaring at its last ebb and throwing great shadows on the walls; and -once, as he looked round the room, disturbed by some movement of -Fordingbridge's, he saw that the latter was sitting up on his bed -peering at him with his great hollow vacant eyes, in which the glare -of madness was almost intensified by the unsteady waverings of the -candle's flame. Then, as the great clock tolled one, the light went -out, and he heard Fordingbridge throw himself back on his bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still the time went on--once Fordingbridge laughed in the dark, an -imbecile, vacant laugh; once, he could have sworn, he heard him mutter -"Sholto!" and once he moved uneasily on his pallet and groaned--and -then the clock struck two. But still he sat on in the darkness before -the dead fire, waiting, waiting. And, at last, he heard a sound of a -door opening in a distant corridor, then another, and then footsteps -approaching. And a moment later Bluet's voice was speaking outside.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur," he heard him say, "<i>Je regrette beau-coup</i>, but the judges -have departed; monsieur's chance is not yet arrived."</p> - -<p class="normal">And with a heartbroken groan Bertie groped his way to where his bed -had been placed and flung himself upon it, while, as he did so, he -heard his maniacal foe at the other end of the <i>calotte</i> muttering to -himself and laughing once more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4> - -<h5>"HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST MINUTE MOUNTED."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">After that night Bertie ceased to believe that he would ever go forth -from the Bastille; a lethargy, which was partly despair and partly a -fierce, bitter repining at the inexplicable, unmerited cruelty which -had consigned him to such a place, took possession of his spirits, and -he came to regard himself as one who was dead to the world for ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet from the other--to whose long sufferings his own could at present -form no comparison--he received consolation in many forms; from De -Chevagny, continual exhortations were made that he should never lose -heart, while even Bluet would tell him, in his own familiar, -good-natured manner, that he was far too young a visitor to consider -himself a permanency as yet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There have been men here," said the marquis, repeating the same -stories over and over again to him for his comfort, "who have not -given up hope for years, who have then done so and become despairing, -and have then, after still more years, gone out free." After which he -would tell of the Dutch doctor who had been mistaken for the Alsatian -poisoner; of others who had been there ten, fifteen, twenty years, and -had at last got away; indeed, to solace poor Bertie, the marquis more -than once said that even he himself, after forty-three years, had not -lost all courage, and hoped to spend some few of those remaining to -him in freedom. Yet, as the other looked in his face and heard his -sad, trembling tones, he knew that it was but pity that inspired the -words; that, in his heart, De Chevagny knew he would never be -released.</p> - -<p class="normal">From Falmy--by use of their letters which, in spite of the change in -lodging, they could still make visible to one another--he received -also many sentences of encouragement and counsel, while one day there -came from that unhappy man a piece of information which once more set -his heart beating with hope, and raised great expectations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been joined by another prisoner," he signalled across to the -window of the <i>calotte</i>. "He is, however, about to obtain his -liberty--awaits only his signed acquittal from D'Argenson. If you have -messages to send, he will deliver them if possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">In an instant Bertie had snatched from an old trunk that had been -brought by De Chevagny the letters which he used, and a few moments -later he had begun to signal a message to his mother, which he -intended to augment by another to Kate. His heart beat high as he did -so; he knew that, if this prisoner who was to be released was only -faithful, in a few days at most the two women who loved him so would -know of his whereabouts, though they were powerless to obtain his -freedom. Yet, could even that be possible? Who could say? His mother -might represent to the King his long and faithful services in the -regiment; Kate might have powerful friends at court who could do -something.</p> - -<p class="normal">With trembling hands he formed the words, letter by letter. "Tell him -my name is Elphinston. Bid him seek out my mother. She lives at the -Rue----" Alas! as he finished the last letter of the word "Rue," upon -the <i>calotte</i> about the tower in which Falmy was there appeared the -cone-shaped shako, or cap, worn by the <i>corps de garde</i> of the -Bastille, followed by the body of a sentry, and, hastily leaving the -window, he desisted from his work. He was foiled for the day at least; -the sentry he knew, was set on that particular tower, and either he or -those who relieved him would be there for twenty-four hours. And as he -reflected that in those twenty-four hours the <i>acquit</i> from D'Argenson -might come for the prisoner who was about to be released, he felt as -if he would go mad.</p> - -<p class="normal">Falmy appeared at his window often during the day, looking wistfully -up to the <i>calotte</i>, though Bertie, who could still observe him when -standing back from the window, dared make no sign. It would matter -nothing for the soldiers to see him at the opening--the prisoners were -allowed the privilege of looking out if the windows were low enough to -permit of their doing so--but the slightest communication that should -be observed to pass between them would be visited with the most severe -punishment, even to confinement in the dungeons beneath the ditch. He -perceived, therefore, all the signs of distress on Falmy's face; he -even observed him turn round, and saw his lips move as he gesticulated -to his new companion within the room; he could guess, as plainly as -though he had heard him, what the Genevese was saying. He felt sure -that he was explaining that there must be a sentry above them, and -that therefore Elphinston dared not signal across.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" exclaimed poor Bertie, "oh, if I had but acquainted them with my -mother's address at once before the guard was set! that would have -been enough. Fool! fool that I am to lose so fair a chance! The very -visit of a man set free from this place to my mother's house would -have alarmed her suspicions, would have told her all. And now, now, he -knows not where to go. God help me! it was my only hope, and I have -lost it."</p> - -<p class="normal">All day he watched the roof of the opposite tower, hoping against -hope, for he <i>knew</i> the guard would only be changed, and not removed. -He watched still as the shadows of the winter evening deepened into -night, and still also he watched until the night itself had come and -both tower and sentry were obscured in darkness. And as he kept his -dreary vigil all through the day, he saw Falmy's face at his own -window, staring at him with sad and melancholy glances, but without -any sign being made by him, so that he knew that a guard had been -placed above the roof of his tower as well.</p> - -<p class="normal">"On any other day it would have mattered nothing," he moaned to -himself. "Oh, why to-day of all days should these towers have been -selected!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was so absolute a chance, such a coincidence, that the guard should -happen to have been placed at this part of the Bastille on this -particular occasion that his misery and mental anxiety were not -strange. Of all the days he had been in the <i>calotte</i>, there was -scarce one that could have been worse for him and his prospects.</p> - -<p class="normal">The restless night passed, the dawn broke, cold, grey, and miserable, -and springing from his bed he rushed to the window--only to see above -the opposite tower a sentry still there. The twenty-four hours' guard -was not yet finished, would not be until the great clock over the gate -should clang out nine. And it was not yet eight o'clock on this dreary -February morning! But at last the hour arrived. The sentry presented -arms to the King's Lieutenant who came to dismiss him from his post. -As the clock struck, the roof was deserted, and a few minutes later -Falmy's face appeared at the window. But he shook his head mournfully, -and then, with his board and piece of charcoal, he communicated the -melancholy words, "The prisoner went forth at eight o'clock."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, indeed, Bertie gave himself up to despair--black despair that -grew deeper and deeper as the weeks crept by one after the other; as -slowly the cruel, griping Paris winter passed, and gradually they knew -that spring was coming. Yet to him who had once welcomed the birth of -new summers with such eagerness, the one now on its way to gladden the -earth brought no comfort. The swallows came back and circled round and -round the towers of the prison, and began, with countless chirps and -squeaks, to build their nests below the gloomy eaves, yet he only -found himself wondering vaguely why, when they were free, they should -choose so foul a place. Also, over in the garret windows of the Rue -St. Antoine he saw daily a girl tending some flowers in a box, even -saw the tint of the flowers themselves as they burst into bloom, and -wondered, too, if she, who had her liberty, ever cast one thought to -the poor prisoners confined so near to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for his companions, De Chevagny and Fordingbridge, they seemed, -from opposite reasons, to be indifferent to any changes that the -season might bring, though sometimes the former would stand at the -window and hold out his hands and let the warm May sun--for May had -come--stream down upon them and his face, and whisper sadly that for -those who could be out in the woods and fields it was good, very good. -Then, when he was tired of standing or sitting thus, he would cast -himself on his bed and sigh, and so sleep away the hours.</p> - -<p class="normal">With Fordingbridge, both he and Elphinston had ceased to hold any -converse at all; nor, indeed, had they been willing to talk with him, -was it possible that he could either have understood or replied to -them. His madness seemed to grow upon him daily, and, while he became -more taciturn, also he became more imbecile. Once he woke Bertie in -the early morning by crawling to his bedside, and, holding out a piece -of string which he had found imbedded in the filth of the floor, asked -him to hang him ere they could lead him to the wheel; and one night he -raved and moaned so through the dark hours--and on this occasion the -other heard him beyond all doubt mutter the name of Archibald--that -the prison doctor was sent for the next day.</p> - -<p class="normal">This official, who was addressed diversely by Bluet as <i>Monsieur le -Docteur</i> Herment and <i>Monsieur l'Abbé</i> Herment when he brought him in, -seemed to be in about the same state of semi-drunkenness as the -turnkey generally was, and to be also an inordinately vain creature. -He had on his head a golden-haired wig which, while he was examining -the unhappy wretch Fordingbridge, he was engaged in telling Bertie had -been made from the hair of one of his <i>chères amies</i> who loved him -truly; and he also remarked that some silver buckles on his shoes had -been given him by a <i>grande dame</i> who had recently been released from -the Bastille.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What of the patient?" asked the latter sternly, such observations -being unwelcome to him. "Will his lunacy increase, think you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ma foi!</i>" exclaimed the <i>abbé</i>, or doctor, "so much so that it is my -duty to warn the Society of Jesuits to be expeditious with what they -have to do. Otherwise they will miss their victim, and our good -Parisians will lose a spectacle. The wheel furnishes many a <i>fête</i> in -the Place de Grève."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will they do that?" asked Bertie. "Will they execute so miserable a -wretch as this?"</p> - -<p class="normal"><i>"Bien sûr</i>, they will. Was there ever a Jesuit who forgave?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has he done? They say he has slain a priest."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the other was not to be entrapped like this, so, with a wink, he -replied: "Monsieur, you should know by now that Madame La Bastille -keeps her secrets well. But this I will tell you," and he pointed as -he spoke to Fordingbridge, who was writhing on his bed, though none in -the room could guess whether he understood what was being said or not, -"he is doomed. And since he appears likely to escape the examiners if -there is much more delay, his time will not be long now. Not long. Not -very long! Oh, no! <i>Bon jour, messieurs</i>, I have my report to make to -the Governor. Yet, since we must not lose our friend, I will send him -a draught."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether the creature' really made his report as he said he should, and -thereby hastened Fordingbridge's end, Bertie Elphinston never knew, -but at any rate it came soon afterwards.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was on one night, one 14th of May, when the weather had taken an -extraordinary change, and all the warmth of the coming summer seemed -to have disappeared and winter to have returned, and when from their -window they could see slight flakes of snow mingled with the falling -rain, that Bluet, bringing in the supper, appeared to be especially -solicitous that Fordingbridge should make a good meal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mangez, mon ami</i>," he said, as the other crouched on his bed, -staring round the room with the hunted expression that was always now -in his eyes--"<i>mangez bien</i>. Make a good supper. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> you eat -nothing of late," and he came over to the table where the others sat -and asked their permission to tempt the idiot with some meat and -biscuits. Then, as he bent over to take them from the dish, he -whispered significantly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He goes to-morrow. Before daybreak."</p> - -<p class="normal">If Bertie had known that the doomed man had, to his other crimes, -added that of cowardly slaying his bosom friend Douglas, could it -have been possible that into his heart there could have come the -feeling--was it pity--that now arose? At last, then, Fordingbridge's -end had come; he was to pay for all! And--and--for of such complex -emotions are we formed--as Bertie heard that his doom was sealed, he -forgot the wrongs he had suffered at this man's hands; he forgot the -wreck of his and of Kate's life; if he did not forgive him, he -compassionated him. Rising from his chair he went over to the bed -where Fordingbridge was seated, and on which he shrank from him as he -approached, and, pointing to the biscuit he held in his trembling -hands, he said, very gently, "Eat, Fordingbridge, eat. It will do you -good. And, see, you have nothing to drink," and going back to the -table he poured out a cup of wine and brought it to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">With still trembling hands the madman took it from him, glinting at -him over the cup as though afraid, and watching him as though fearful -that at any moment a blow might be dealt; and then, when he had -drained the last drop, he began slowly to munch the biscuit, which he -kept shut in the palm of his hand, as though someone was about to take -it from him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you ever," asked Bertie, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if he -might thereby make him understand what he was saying, "do you ever -think of those who--who were once dear to you? If--if--it should -please God in His infinite mercy that, some day, perhaps in some -far-off, remote day, I may depart from here, and you--may not--not -accompany me, is there any word, any message, you would wish to send?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Still Fordingbridge shrank from him, creeping, edging farther away -from where he had sat down by his side, but he uttered no word. Only, -still his eyes roamed restlessly over Bertie's form, and still his -mouth worked convulsively as ever, and his hands twitched.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Think. Reflect, I beseech you," the man whom he had wronged so much -continued, "you are not well--you may--at any moment--be worse. And I, -forgetful of the past, would, if it ever comes into my power, very -willingly do this for you. Fordingbridge, you may trust me. As I sit -by you to-night, I cast away for ever from my memory the evil you have -wrought me; I desire only that, if I can, I may serve you. Can I do -nothing?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the other shrank from him, understanding, perhaps, not one -word that he said. Once more, however, Bertie continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you can comprehend me, I pray you do so. Think, remember. -You had a wife once; before God I believe she is your wife now, and -always has been; I do not believe that you deceived her. Have you no -word for her, no plea for pardon, no request that, as time goes on, -she may come to think of you without bitterness? Also there are -others--Archibald Sholto and Douglas----"</p> - -<p class="normal">A cry from the maniacal lips interrupted him--a hoarse cry such as an -Animal in pain, an animal that had been struck suddenly and unawares, -might utter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Douglas! Douglas! Douglas!" he shrieked. "Douglas! Douglas!" and so -continued muttering that name again and again. Then, with another -sound, half wail, half sigh, he flung himself back on his bed, and -thus spent his last night on earth. Yet, even on that night, through -the whole of which he chattered unintelligible words to himself, he -laughed once or twice convulsively, and as though suffocating with -suppressed mirth.</p> -<br> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">As the shadows of the night departed and the morning gave signs of -breaking, with still the snow-flakes mingling with the rain that beat -against the windows of the towers, they came for him--the King's -Lieutenant, accompanied by four of the <i>corps de garde</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Put on your cloak, if you have one," that officer said to the -miserable creature shrinking back to the wall, while he shivered all -over and uttered his broken cries--"put on your cloak, and come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In pity leave him!" exclaimed Bertie; "in the name of Christianity, -of humanity, refrain from taking so miserable a life as this! Vile as -he has been, see, see what he is now! It is as though you took the -life of a helpless child, of a dumb brute. As you hope for mercy, show -some."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am but an instrument," said the Lieutenant; "I have my orders; -willingly or unwillingly I must obey them. And if I would spare him, -nay, if my master the King would spare him, the Church would not. He -is in their grip; it will be unfastened an hour hence, when he is -dead." Then, turning to the soldiers, he said, "Bring him away."</p> - -<p class="normal">They took the shaking wretch--no longer a man but only a living -thing--by the arms and led him moaning to the door; yet, when he had -arrived there, he had the strength to wrench one of them free; and -looking round at Bertie for the last time in the world, and with his -starting, scintillating eyes fixed on him, he raised that arm, the -hand clenched as though grasping a weapon, and--once--twice--struck -downward fiercely with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he was gone for ever.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> - -<h5>KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A great masked ball was over at the opera house; the candles were -burning down into their sockets in the girandoles and lustres; the May -morning, which under ordinary circumstances should have broken so soft -and bright, had dawned foul, rainy, and snowy; and carriages, hackney -coaches, and sedan chairs were pushing their way up to the doors of -the theatre and carrying off their employers to their houses and beds.</p> - -<p class="normal">But all were not yet departed; some still sat drinking or chatting at -the supper tables; some danced in groups without any music to -accompany them except the airs which they hummed or whistled -themselves, for the orchestra had put up its instruments and gone also -to its bed; and some, principally men, struggled and pushed in the -<i>vestiaires</i> to obtain cloaks, roquelaures, hats and riding hoods, and -swords--which latter could not by law be worn in the ball-room. Mock -harlequins jostled imitation Henrys of Navarre; mock monks swore at -supposed Crusaders; minotaurs and cavaliers and priests all contended -against one another for their and their female companions' wraps, and -at the same time laughed and jested and proposed breakfasts at -neighbouring taverns, or a visit to the gambling hells, which on such -nights as these kept their doors perpetually open.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amidst all this confusion there ran through the whole place a -rumour--a whisper, which reached first those in the <i>vestiaires</i>, and -next the people at the supper tables--that those who so chose might -yet finish their night's enjoyment with another spectacle--a grim and -dismal but still enjoyable one--which was far better than any tavern -breakfast or punting at the gaming table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Figurez-vous!</i>" screamed one reveller, a deformed creature by -nature, who had, with true Parisian appreciation of ludicrousness, -arrayed himself consequently as Venus--"<i>figurez-vous, mes enfants</i>, -there are two for execution, although, <i>malheureusement</i>, but only one -is to be broken. The other, they say--because, <i>peste!</i> he is a <i>sal -Anglais</i> and also of high rank--escapes the wheel and is only to be -decapitated. A curse upon the law, say I, that treats an Englishman -better than us!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ma petite Vénus de poche</i>," remarked another to him, clad as an -arquebusier, "have a care how you curse the law; otherwise you may get -broken yourself. There are plenty of police here in disguise, and if -they hear you, that goodly hump of yours will stand a fine chance of -being smashed by the executioner's bar. <i>Ma foi!</i> the <i>coup de grâce</i> -is generally administered to the chest bone; with you, I presume, it -will be administered on the <i>bosse</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I spoke only in jest," exclaimed the deformed one, glancing round -apprehensively; "I meant no harm. A good subject, I, of the King of -France and all his ministers. But come, let us away. Who's for the -Grève? <i>Mon Dieu!</i> we must not miss the show!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am for it, for one!" screamed a girl not over twenty, whose golden -hair hung down over her back, and whose tones and glances proclaimed -her to be already far sunken in dissipation. "I have never yet seen a -man done to death; and as for the wheel, why, I have prayed often for -a chance of seeing it. They say the <i>coup de grâce</i> is magnificent if -the--the patient--is still sensible. Now, in our old village, before -the young lord brought me to town, we never saw anything but a beggar -in the stocks. And, <i>dame! les ceps</i> cease to be interesting after one -has pelted the occupiers for half an hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pretty things," said the arquebusier, looking down sardonically on -her, "have a care, <i>ma chère</i>, that you never come to worse than <i>les -ceps</i> yourself. I have known many country girls brought to town by -their young lords, and--hem!--who got worse shift than the stocks when -they were discarded."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ah! voyons!</i>" exclaimed the girl, "<i>avec ça!</i> Look you, my figure of -fun, you are insolent. Get you home to your wife and family, and earn -bread for them. We of the fashion desire none of your <i>banalités</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, as she spoke, she was being inducted into her long cloak by some -of her would-be admirers, and also many others were getting ready. For -Paris had not had an execution for some two months now, and the -"half-tiger, half-monkey nature" which Voltaire attributed to his -countrymen was thirsty for its favourite form of entertainment.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the ball-room itself there sat, however, a group very different -from those in the vestibule, who, since the masquerades were open to -all who could pay for admission, had attended the ball. This group -consisted of Sir Charles and Lady Ames--once Lady Belrose--and Kate, -who, in spite of her melancholy and her ill-health, had been persuaded -to accompany them. Heaven knows such diversions were little enough in -her way now! yet Lady Ames had been kind to her when she needed -kindness, and, at the express desire of Sir Charles and his wife, she -had consented to go with them.</p> - -<p class="normal">In one way she was not unhappy: she knew, she felt certain, that this -second disappearance of Bertie Elphinston from the knowledge of the -world was not of his own accord. That something terrible had happened -she could not doubt; yet she knew also that, whatever that something -might be, it was not due to any desire to hide himself from her--that -was, if he was still alive. But was he?</p> - -<p class="normal">Douglas's awful death by an unknown hand might also have been -Elphinston's lot: who could tell? And then her own husband's -disappearance! Did not that point to some catastrophe? Over and over -again she had meditated on all these things, lying awake for nights -together, pondering over them, wondering, wondering always. For even -now she was in total ignorance of who the murderer of Douglas had -been, of what Archibald had discovered. He had written to her at -intervals, it was true, but he had either avoided all reference to the -tragedy, or had said that, if the murderer was ever brought to -justice, she would doubtless know all. Her husband he never mentioned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, those who are aware of what she could not guess can understand -how difficult a task it would have been for the Jesuit to tell her -that he had discovered the assassin, and that Fordingbridge, her -husband, was the man. It may be that, after he had handed him over to -the proper authorities, he hoped, nay, endeavoured so to arrange that -she should never discover that her husband was the criminal. Better -that he should disappear from her knowledge forever, go to his doom -without her dreaming that he had paid for the crime with his life, -than that she should know to what a foul thing she had been united.</p> - -<p class="normal">The candles guttered lower in their sockets, the attendants were -putting out even the few lights that still burned; it was time to go. -The opera house was emptying fast of all who had danced the night away -there; amidst shrieks and whoops and yells the lower class of visitors -were departing in coaches and chairs or on foot--some to their homes, -but many to the Place de Grève. The spectacle of one man being broken -to death and another decapitated was not to be missed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say," exclaimed Sir Charles, as he returned with the cloaks and -hoods of the two ladies, "that an execution takes place this morning -on the Place de Grève. Hark! you may hear the creatures chattering -over it as they go forth. Well, our coachman need not go through the -<i>Place</i>, though it is on our road. Surely he can skirt round it. At -least, I will bid him do so," and he escorted his wife and Kate to -their carriage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Outside, the crowd that was making its way to the place of execution -was stamping down the now fast-falling snow as it fell, and hurrying -forward for fear it should be too late for the show. With renewed -shrieks and yells it went onward, singing songs and choruses, roaring -out ballads that perhaps it deemed suitable to the occasion, beating -on <i>tambours-de-basque</i> and little tabours which formed the -accompaniments of many of the masquers' costumes, and hammering on -doors that were as yet unopened, with their shepherds' crooks and -wooden swords (which were allowed to form part of their dress) and -canes, and howling at the inhabitants to arise and come forth to <i>le -spectacle</i>. They halted very little on their short way, sometimes only -to shake the falling snow off their clothes, sometimes to wipe the -paint and raddle from their faces which the wet snow had turned into -sticky filth, and sometimes to kick over the braziers of the early -morning chestnut-sellers, or to run into an early-opened wineshop, -hastily gulp down a drink, and then go on again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heavens!" exclaimed Sir Charles, as the slow-progressing coach kept -pace with the creatures that passed along the miserable three-foot -sideways or crunched along the road--"heavens! what a crowd is a -Parisian one! Their laughter is as ferocious in its way as the -roughness of our English rabble--nay, I believe, far more deadly. How -they revel in what they are going to see!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I tell you, my friends," screamed one painted harridan from the sedan -chair she was being carried in, to a number of her friends who walked -beside it, "that it is a great, a magnificent spectacle. I have seen -it, <i>voyez-vous</i>, at Lyons, on the Place Bellecour, often--once, -twice, thrice. <i>Ma foi!</i> the shriek at the first blow as the man lies -back, his body tied to the wheel, is <i>pénétrant écrasant!</i> And so on, -the cries becoming lower, till they are no better than sobs or groans, -until the <i>coup de grâce</i>. Then, sometimes, but alas! not always, -there will be one more wild shriek, and <i>voilà! c'est fini</i>. After -that it is always time for breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">One or two girls in the crowd making its way onward glanced at the -ogress in the sedan chair and turned white; and Kate, who had heard -all her words, grasped Lady Belrose's hand; while a man, walking -steadily along through the snow, answered the woman, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste!</i> 'tis not always as good as that. I waited once all -through a summer night at Caen to see a man broken--I remember we -played cards, I and the others, in the moonlight, and I lost four gold -pistoles--and, <i>dame!</i> the fellow was a favoured one. Favoured, you -understand. A vile aristocrat. So, as we thought, they strangled him -as they bound him, and, <i>malediction!</i> he suffered not at all. Never -screamed once--not once. 'Twas a cruel wrong to the spectators."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis an aristocrat who suffers to-day, they say," another man -exclaimed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," screamed still another, "not so. The aristocrat will suffer -not; they will but slice his head off with the axe. There is no -suffering in that; 'tis done and over in a moment. Yet I would see him -die, too. He is an English aristocrat, and I hate all English; one -beat me the other day for regarding his flaxen-haired wife too -admiringly! I have never seen an Englishman die. They are brutes, yet -they have the courage of devils."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An English aristocrat!" said Sir Charles to his companions. "I do not -understand this. There have been no Englishmen arrested in Paris for a -longtime; otherwise I must have heard of it among our friends here. -What does he mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear Charles," replied his wife, "you do not know the Parisians -very well. An English aristocrat to them is any Englishman who is -outside his own country for pleasure and with his pocket well lined -with guineas. Doubtless, however, this is some needy ragamuffin or -copper captain, who has come to the scaffold for his sins, and they -suppose him an aristocrat."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever Sir Charles may have replied was drowned now by an increase -of the howls and yells of the crowd, by fiercer beatings on the -<i>tambours-de-basque</i> and tabours, by snatches of wild, frenzied songs, -and by bursts of hysterical laughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Place de Grève was in sight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Turn off!" said Sir Charles, putting his head out of the window and -addressing the coachman--"turn off, I say! I told you to leave the -route to that infernal <i>Place</i> and avoid it. Why have you disobeyed -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man shrugged his shoulders as he looked round from his -seat--doubtless, in spite of the orders he had received, he meant to -see <i>le spectacle</i> himself if possible--then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur, it is impossible to turn off, or scarcely now to proceed. -The crowd encompasses us. Yet the <i>Place</i> is not so full but we may -pass through it. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> if it had been a fine May morning, a fly -could not have passed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is--is there anything--dreadful--taking place yet? If so, we will not -proceed."</p> - -<p class="normal">The driver stood up on his box and gazed forward; then he shook his -head and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Non</i>, monsieur, there is nothing. Only the erection itself, and the -soldiers and people; not many of the latter, either. <i>Nous autres</i>," -pointing to the howling crowd from the Bal Masqué seething around -them, "will double the sightseers." But he muttered to himself, "Ere we -get into the middle of the <i>Place</i> we shall see something, or I'm a -stupid <i>escargot</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on, then," said Sir Charles, "as quickly as you can, since you -cannot now turn round. Lose no time." And he spoke to his companions, -saying, "Best put on your masks. This is no place for ladies to be -seen in. But we shall be through it all in five minutes."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Belrose and Kate did as he bade them, and then the coach went on, -slowly following all those in the road before them. Unfortunately, it -had no curtains to the windows, which shut from within as was the -custom of the day, otherwise the baronet would have closed out the -whole of their surroundings. But this was impossible.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the crowd accompanying them shrieked and howled more and -more--fighting and struggling to pass each other; thrusting those in -front of them away, elbowing and pushing--the man who had waited all -night at Caen playing at cards, throwing another almost under the -wheels of Sir Charles's coach, while a girl was borne down in the -crush and dragged aside fainting--stamping with glee and excitement, -almost dancing in frenzy.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the bell of the neighbouring church was tolling now, and, through -the flakes of snow as they fell, the wheel and the block for the two -condemned men were visible on the scaffold.</p> - -<p class="normal">That scaffold itself was a platform some seven feet high, around which -stood a company of the grenadiers, with, on either side of it, a guard -of the musketeers. On the left of it was the wheel itself, fixed -horizontally between stout wooden supports let into the platform, it -being a large cannon-wheel. On the right side was a headsman's block, -with, beneath it, a basket filled with sawdust, now half covered by -snow. By the wheel and leaning against it was a huge club, iron-bound -at the head, and at this sight the crowd became still more excited, if -possible, pointing it out to each other and saying, "Behold, <i>la -massue</i>. She will do her work well, <i>Ça pese bien</i>," and laughing and -screaming once more, and rubbing their hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next came a roar, with shrieks from women and more faintings among -them, while, by some impulse unrecognised perhaps by themselves, all -of the latter produced their masks and put them on. It may be that -something feminine, some feeling of womanly shame, prompted them to -hide their features, to disguise their presence there. As for the men, -the excitability of their natures affected them in a different way, -for at what was happening now some of them, even strangers to each -other, shook hands effusively, and some clapped others on the back.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the condemned ones were in sight.</p> - -<p class="normal">They came forth together from a small door in the wall of the <i>Hôtel -de Ville</i>, side by side, these two who were to suffer; one--he who was -to perish on the wheel--being nearly naked, and having on him nothing -but a short pair of breeches reaching to his knees and a sleeveless -singlet. He was a great, bull-chested man, with massive limbs that -would have become a gladiator, and, as he strode along attended by a -confessor with a crucifix in his hand, he seemed to the mob to appear -like one who would suffer severely. Therefore they roared and shrieked -at him, and some waved handkerchiefs and clapped and cried, while he -regarded them almost with contempt. Yet there was a glance in his eyes -as if he could not comprehend why all these people, whom he saw -through the falling flakes, should be thus fantastically dressed and -should also be masked.</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth it was a weird scene in the Place de Grève that morning, with -the condemned men approaching the scaffold through the snow, and with, -for the greater part of the spectators, these women, through the holes -of whose masks their eyes glittered, and whose grotesque costumes were -but little suited either to the occasion or the wintry morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet still there was the other doomed one. He, however, approached the -platform very differently from the manner in which the man whose -portion was the wheel came forward. He, too, had by his side a -confessor with a crucifix--after each there walked the executioners, -and also the officials--and it seemed as if he would shelter himself -behind the robes of the priest. Yet sometimes, too, he smiled and -gibbered at the crowd as though it was composed of his friends, and -only when he saw the masked faces of the women and all the quaint -garbs of the onlookers did he seem astonished.</p> - -<p class="normal">At his appearance the crowd appeared startled, the shouts died down; -instead of them a whisper ran through their ranks. "He is mad! <i>Il est -fou!</i>" they cried, and again some women fainted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Great God!" muttered Sir Charles Ames hoarsely, catching sight of -him. Then, suddenly, he said: "Kate--Lady Fordingbridge--do not look -out; for pity's sake do not!" And to his wife he made signs that she -should prevent her friend from glancing at the scaffold.</p> - -<p class="normal">But he was too late! Already she had done so; already she, peering -from the window of the coach, her own face masked, had seen the face -of the trembling, grinning wretch; and, since gradually the coachman -had edged the carriage through the crowd until it was not now ten -paces from the platform, he, too, saw her--the woman with her face -disguised--glaring at him.</p> - -<p class="normal">She herself was nearly fainting at this time, yet she could see the -headsman grasp his axe and motion to the victim to kneel down and -place his head upon the block, and in her agony she raised her hand to -her brow. In doing so it struck and loosened the mask, so that it fell -off, leaving her face exposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">And then the crowd's enjoyment culminated!</p> - -<p class="normal">For he saw the mask fall away from her--he saw her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">And with a wild scream--a scream that penetrated to the hearts of all -in the Place de Grève--he shrieked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kate! Kate! I have seen him! He forgives! He is a prisoner in----" -and fell back, dying, into the executioner's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">The frenzied brain had failed at last.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> - -<h5>AFAR OFF STILL.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Kate had been, as already stated, far from well of late; the horrible -revelation of that snowy morning brought her near to death's door; -and, after she had been taken back to the Prince's house in a -prostrate condition and put at once to bed, her life was for some -weeks despaired of.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile she was carefully ministered to by all the Scotch ladies who -formed a part of the establishment, and also by Lady Ames, who refused -under any circumstances to quit Paris; though, indeed, her indulgent -husband did not press her to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The King," she said, "may call me a Jacobite, may even prosecute me -for one when I return to London, yet I shall not leave Lady -Fordingbridge now--no, not even if I have to become an inmate of -Charles Edward's house. Oh, the horror of seeing one's husband brought -out to such a doom, villain though he was; the horror of it! How shall -she ever recover from such a catastrophe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How, indeed?" replied Sir Charles, who, worldling though he was, had -been as terribly shocked as she at the end of Fordingbridge's career. -"Yet it might have been worse. It was a merciful providence that saw -fit to end his life at the moment it did. Think, only think, if, added -to all else, she had seen his head fall, as she would have done had he -not died at the instant!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Ames nodded her head reflectively as she agreed with him; then a -few moments later she said, speaking from the deep <i>fauteuil</i> in which -she was sitting in their lodgings, which they had now taken on the -Quai des Théatins so as to be near her:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You heard his last words?--'I have seen him. He forgives. He is a -prisoner in----' and then died before he could conclude. What, -Charles, do you think they pointed to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Charles shrugged his shoulders; then he asked significantly, "What -does <i>she</i> think they pointed to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" his wife replied, "she does not refer to them; seems scarcely -to have heard them uttered, or, if she did, not to have understood them. -Remember, she is but a woman, and, although it is impossible she should -regret his death, the horror, the shame of it, has broken her down -completely. She longed--any woman would long--to be free of a man who -had deceived her from the first as he had done, yet no woman could -desire her freedom should come in such an awful form. They say," she -continued, sinking her voice to an awestruck whisper, "that he died of -fright upon that scaffold."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly," replied Sir Charles, "possibly. He was a cowardly fellow, -as it seemed to me, when Sholto and I had that interview with him in -your morning-room. I should not be surprised; other men have died on -the scaffold, at the foot of the gallows, before now. Why not he? -But," he said, changing the subject, "since we can do nothing, we must -be what assistance we can to her. Now, I propose to set about -discovering what he was led out to execution for; what his crime was. -It must have been something horribly grave to lead to a man of his -position being executed in France; for, although no treaty of peace -has as yet been signed between them and us, we are no longer at open -strife. And if," he added, "France would but send this Stuart packing, -and harbour him no longer, a lasting peace might be secured."<a name="div4Ref_08" href="#div4_08"><sup>[8]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"What could it have been, think you?" his wife asked. "Something -terrible, to lead to such a conclusion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he replied, "yes. Something terrible."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he devoted himself to the task of discovering what that something -terrible could have been.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile, Kate, after being utterly broken down and lying between -life and death for something short of a month, began to mend at last, -her naturally fine though delicate constitution enabling her to -triumph over the blow she had received. Then she, too, told Lady Ames -that she must discover for her own future ease, if not peace of mind, -the reason why her wretched husband, after having disappeared for so -many months, had met his end in such a way. Also she undeceived her -friend in the belief that she had not heard that wretched husband's -last words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," she said, "I heard them all, clearly and distinctly. Heard -them! I hear them now--at night; all day; as I lie here. 'I have seen -him. He forgives. He is a prisoner in----.' And," she continued, -laying a white, wan hand on that of the other who sat by her bedside, -"I know well enough to whom he referred. It was to Bertie, to Mr. -Elphinston."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Great heavens!" exclaimed Lady Ames, who, in the excitement of all -that had happened since that terrible morning, had absolutely -forgotten that this other one was also as mysteriously missing as Lord -Fordingbridge had been--"great heavens! to Mr. Elphinston. Yes, it -must be. Each word would apply to him. O Kate! what does it all mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God knows what it means; what it points to none can doubt--to the -fact that in the prison from which they brought him the other one is -incarcerated; though on what charge I cannot dream. Oh, my dear," she -exclaimed to her friend, "beg Sir Charles to find out that--those two -things, above all: the prison, and the reason why he is detained. -Then, when that is discovered, we may do something to obtain his -release, since I am known to so many who have influence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Lady Ames acquiesced, "yes; Charles must do that. Yet there -are many prisons in Paris where men are kept unknown to the outer -world--La Force, Bicêtre, Vincennes, the Bastille. And what can he -have done to be sent to any one of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven alone knows. Yet, in France, men are sent on the most trivial -charges, on suspicion alone, sometimes. Oh, I beseech you, ask your -husband to discover first where he is, and then we may learn of what -he is accused, and do our best to free him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Charles, with now a clue as to whom the miserable man had -referred, prosecuted his researches with great ardour, keeping ever -two points before him for elucidation: the first being the reason for -which Fordingbridge had been brought to execution, and the second the -prison from which he had been conducted to the Hôtel de Ville; for, -when he had discovered the latter, he would know almost of a surety -where Elphinston was. Yet almost as well might he have demanded -information of the stones in the streets and have expected to receive -an answer, as from those whom, with infinite trouble, he sought out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Commencing with the English ambassador--who professed himself -profoundly ignorant of the execution of Lord Fordingbridge, as well as -extremely shocked that such an outrage should have been committed upon -a nobleman of our country, no matter what his fault was--he next -managed to procure an interview with the Mayor of Paris and with the -Prefect of Police, the former a more important functionary then than -now. Yet all was useless; he got no further. After many visits to the -ambassador, the latter told him plainly that Lord Fordingbridge's -death would lead to very little discussion between the two countries; -moreover, any discussion was just now to be avoided. France and -England were by this time sick of warfare and wanted peace, and the -only thing that stood in the way of that peace was the espousal of the -Stuart cause by France.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," remarked the ambassador quietly to Sir Charles, in a private -interview they had together, "the peace will come, and, if I am not -deceived, the Stuarts will go. The Chevalier de St. George at Rome -knows such to be the case; so does the Prince here; only they do not -run away from the storm. Time enough for that when it breaks; anyhow, -it won't be particularly hurtful--will only, indeed, lead to a -residence in Paris being exchanged for the capital of some other -country. Yes, everything points to peace--has begun, indeed, to do so -for some time back. Now," and his Excellency leaned forward and spoke -very gravely, "this Fordingbridge episode must not disturb that -impending peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one wishes that it should do so," Sir Charles exclaimed; "we only -desire a little information. He had a wife, and, although he had -behaved as a thorough scoundrel to her, is it not natural that she -should wish to know what his crime was, and what prison he was -confined in before the morning when he was taken to what was intended -for his execution?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly natural," replied the ambassador, with easy grace, -"perfectly natural on her part. Only, how is the information to be -obtained? I tell you frankly I cannot procure it for you. Lord -Fordingbridge was, in London, what they term here 'a suspect'; he was -under Government surveillance there; known to be a late Jacobite -avowing Hanoverian principles--yet known also, of late, to have been -one of the prime movers, if not <i>the</i> prime mover, in the attempted -assassination of his Majesty before the invasion. Also he was known--I -assure you," the ambassador interjected still more gravely, as he bent -forward, "everything was known about him--to be the friend of Charles -Edward's followers, yet to be, also, their denouncer. He disappeared -from England, no one knew why, closed up his house, wrote to his -attorney to say he should probably not return for many years, and also -that the lady who had passed as the viscountess was not so in actual -fact."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was a lie!" exclaimed Sir Charles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without doubt," the diplomatist continued suavely. "I only -mention all these things to show you that we need not trouble our -soon-to-be-beloved French neighbours about the Viscount Fordingbridge, -especially as, after all, it was a higher power than they who slew -him. Remember, he plotted to kill the King; he was Hanoverian or -Jacobite as it suited him; in fact, Sir Charles, he was contemptible. -Let us forget him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everyone is perfectly willing to do so, I assure your Excellency," -the baronet replied, in quite as easy a manner as the other was -capable of assuming; "he is quite done with on all sides. Only someone -else has to be remembered who is supposed to be in the prison he was -led out from--someone whose freedom many of us desire to procure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An Englishman, of course?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Not precisely so, though. A Scotchman, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A Jacobite, perhaps?" the ambassador asked with a sweet smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There have been tendencies----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely. Good-morning. You can hardly----I protest, Sir Charles, -you can hardly expect King George's representative to interest himself -in that quarter. <i>Good</i>-morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">As regards the mayor and the <i>préfet</i>, he arrived no nearer. The -former, a rabid hater of all things British, told him that, although -he had no knowledge of what persons might be in the various prisons of -Paris, he was quite sure that, if any Englishmen were incarcerated, -they deserved to be. The <i>préfet</i>, more politely but with equal -firmness, said he also was not aware of what English people might be -detained in the prisons, but that, even if he possessed the knowledge, -he should not consider it his duty to give any information on the -subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Kate, by this time recovered somewhat from the shock of her -husband's death, and, although she knew it not, rapidly mending in -health through the knowledge of the freedom that was now hers -undoubtedly, determined that she would lose no opportunity of herself -discovering where Bertie Elphinston was incarcerated; for that -Fordingbridge had spoken the truth in his last moments, half mad -though he seemed, she never had the faintest shadow of a doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">First she wrote, as was natural, to Archibald Sholto, telling him -everything exactly as it occurred from the ending of the ball at the -opera house to Fordingbridge's last words. Also she asked him to -discover, if possible, for what crime her husband had been condemned -to death. Above all, she begged him to find out from what prison he -had been led to the Hôtel de Ville on the morning of his execution. -"Because," she wrote, "in that prison Bertie Elphinston, your friend, -your murdered brother's friend, will be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her letter reached Father Sholto at St. Omer, to which he had removed -from Amiens, and for some weeks he did not answer it; while, when he -did so, he simply wrote to say that he would endeavour to find out the -reason why Bertie should be incarcerated in the prison from which -Fordingbridge had been brought forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a cold answer at best," he muttered to himself one evening, as -he paced along the marshy swamps around St. Omer, unobservant of the -ripening fruit in the rich orchards all about, and even of the -glorious sunset behind him--"a cold answer, yet what else to make? I -cannot tell her that it must be the Bastille in which Bertie is -confined. Merciful Father in heaven!" he broke off, "what can he have -done to be there? Because it was to the Bastille that I, determined -never to loose my hold on Douglas's murderer, procured he should be -sent. Also I dread to tell her what Fordingbridge's crime was, who the -avenger of that crime is. I dread! I dread! It is more than I have -strength to dare."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still pacing the marshes, he turned over and over again in his mind -all that he had pondered on for so long, with--now added to all -that--the fresh knowledge derived through Kate that Elphinston was in -the Bastille.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the Bastille! the Bastille! So that is where he disappeared to -without leaving a trace, a sign behind him. To the Bastille! It seems -incredible. What could he have done? A good officer, a favourite with -all. It is indeed incredible."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still musing, he approached the town, to be aroused from his -meditations, in spite of himself, by the clash of arms from the guard -being relieved at the gates, and by the blare of some trumpets from -the walls. They seemed to chide him, he thought, for being so -inactive; they seemed to reproach him for meditating so much and for -doing so little.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only," he murmured as he almost wrung his hands, "what--what shall I -do? He is in the Bastille, and, though I could send that other one to -the same fortress, I have no power to obtain this one's release. Who -can help me? To whom shall I apply?"</p> - -<p class="normal">At last, tossing on his bed as he had so often wearily tossed before, -he thought of Tencin. The cardinal, he knew, was no longer in the -greatest favour, and had been sent back to his archbishopric as a -punishment; yet he could not be the Primate of France and still be -without some influence. If he could do nothing else, he could at least -find out on what charge Elphinston, an officer of the King's army, had -thus been thrown into prison. So he sat down and wrote to monseigneur.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of course more weeks passed thus--long ones to the poor prisoner in -the <i>calotte</i>, and almost as long to the woman outside who loved him -so, and to the man at St. Omer who was doing his best for him; then, -at last, the archbishop wrote, but could tell nothing. He was, he -said, astonished that such a thing could be. The Scotch officers had -served the King faithfully without exception; it was incredible that -one could be thus incarcerated. The only thing his Eminence could -suppose was that Elphinston must have mortally wounded or angered -someone of high position at court--someone much in favour with the -King himself, and able to procure a lettre de cachet from him without -any questions whatever being asked. He could imagine nothing else but -that. Then, having given vent to his surmise, he proceeded to suggest -to Sholto the very best steps he could take.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of all men," his Eminence wrote, "there is none for your purpose -like D'Argenson. As you know, all the family are of the same -trade--lieutenants of police, Presidents of Parliament, judges; and -the present one, like his father before him, is not only one of his -Majesty's chief judges, but also the chief Examiner of the <i>internes</i> -of the Bastille. The family is high in the world now, but some -generations back were low--forget not that. Yet, neither will your -remembrance of it have weight with D'Argenson. He has a heart of -marble if he has any heart at all, but with it a sense of justice that -it is impossible to excel. If Captain Elphinston is falsely detained, -or detained in error, D'Argenson will set the matter right, though he -may take months to do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though he may take months to do it." Alas! it soon seemed to -Archibald Sholto that he was more like to take years. He had got into -communication with this important personage through the influence of -the cardinal, but once in communication had advanced, or seemed to -advance, no further. The judge wrote in his tablets, it is true, the -name of Elphinston, and said that if he were in any prison in France -he would take care that his case was inquired into sooner or later. -Beyond that he refused to say another word.</p> - -<p class="normal">And with this Sholto had to be content, and to try and persuade -himself that it was at least something toward the desired end. Also he -wrote to Kate, saying that it was from the Bastille that Fordingbridge -had been brought to execution, and that therefore doubtless it was the -Bastille in which Bertie was. And he bade her be of good heart and -hope for the best, since one of the principal examiners of prisoners -detained in the prisons had promised that his case should be inquired -into.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though he may take months to do it!" the cardinal had said. Verily it -seemed as if he had indeed known the man of whom he wrote.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the months passed away outside the Bastille as they were passing -away inside, and to those without there came no news of him within; so -that, at last, Kate was led almost to believe that, as her husband had -lied to her from the very beginning, so he had lied to her at the end. -For it seemed to her that if Bertie had ever been in the gloomy -fortress, by which she now so often walked and to which she went and -stood before and gazed upon, he must have been released ere this, or -in some way have found an opportunity of communicating with her.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was in the early part of May, 1747, that Fordingbridge had been led -out to his doom, and month after month had passed, another May had -come and gone, and, at last, another December--the December of -1748--had come round. Then even the hopeless state into which Bertie -had been so long plunged was quickened back to life by the behaviour -of two people with whom he held some intercourse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although Falmy and he had almost ceased now, from very weariness -during the passage of time--perhaps from heartbrokenness--to -communicate much, they did occasionally do so when either considered -that he had anything to tell the other that might cause him some faint -stir of interest; and one morning the former, appearing at his window, -made signs to Bertie that he was about to signal. Then when the other -nodded to show that he was attending to him, the Genevese traced on -his board the sentence, "Have you heard anything unusual?" To this -Bertie, with a bound of his heart--for, in spite of his long -incarceration and his growing hopelessness, he still had, although he -knew it not, a ray of courage, of presentiment, left in him--shook his -head, and by eager facial signs asked Falmy to explain his meaning. -But he, whether it might be that he was afraid of communicating too -swiftly anything he had gathered, only signalled back, "Say nothing to -De Chevagny as yet. It is rumoured that they have remembered him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remembered him," thought Bertie, "at last!" and as he so reflected he -looked round upon the poor old man sitting with his white head bent -over his knees, and wondered if, should this be true, it would be for -his good to go forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis now forty-five years," he said to himself, "since he came here. -A lifetime! Of what use for him to regain his liberty? He said once to -me, when first I was brought to this room, that this awful place was -his only home. Heaven grant, if they release him, that he may not find -it to be so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He watched Bluet's manner when he removed the remains of their next -meal--which meals had gradually, as month followed month, become more -sparse and meagre, possibly because De Launey had now come to suppose -that neither of them would ever be able to publish to anyone outside -those gloomy walls the story of his neglect and parsimony, to call it -by no other name--and as he did so he noticed that this good-natured -fellow seemed even kinder to the old man than ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" he began now, with his usual exclamation, varied only -occasionally with his <i>ma foi</i>--"<i>mon Dieu</i>, 'tis cold, Monsieur le -Marquis. Yet, I'll warrant me, there are blazing fires in many a happy -home in France. <i>Par exemple</i>, now, in the Château de Chevagny I will -dare to say they keep good fires for monsieur."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man looked up at him with a startled, hurt look; then he said -softly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bluet, you have always been good and kind to me. In the ten years you -have been here I have come to look on you as a friend. Yet, when you -recall needlessly to me my--my long-vanished home--that I shall never -see more--you hurt, you wound me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! <i>avec ça!</i>" said Bluet, "I'll wager you see that home again yet. -Or, perhaps--<i>mon Dieu!</i> why not?--the Hôtel de Chevagny in Paris -itself. Monsieur le Marquis is not to suppose we shall entertain him -for ever; no, no! Neither is he to imagine that because he has dwelt -with us so long--it is a little long, I concede--he shall never leave -us."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man regarded him fixedly for a moment, then he sighed and gave -a true French shrug to his shoulders. "If," he exclaimed, in his -gentle, well-bred voice, the aristocratic tones of which he had never -lost--"if it pleases you to wound me, Bluet, you must do so. Yet I -know not why. We have always been such good friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cease," said Bertie to the turnkey in a whisper. "Why play with an -old man thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is no play," Bluet replied in the same whisper, only that his was -a husky, vinous one. "He is remembered. D'Argenson comes to-morrow -night. He will go before him. It may be that on the next day he will -be free. Break it to him if you can."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are certain of this?" Bertie asked, intensely startled and -interested now. "Certain? I thought you told me long ago that no one -knew who the judges would call before them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ordinairement</i>," replied Bluet, while he glanced at the marquis, who -was again warming himself at the fire, "no one does. But this is -different. The minister sent a day or so ago asking if there was one -incarcerated here of his name. They say the primate, Tencin, stirred -him to it. Then--then--<i>voyez-vous</i>--D'Argenson's secretary came -and--poof!--we hear many things, we jailors! D'Argenson will come -himself to-morrow night, and, <i>mort de ma vie!</i> we shall lose the -prison flower! Where--where will he go to? May the good God protect -him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The name of Tencin roused many bitter reflections in Bertie's -heart, many recollections of how it was this cardinal and archbishop -who had been the mainspring, the prime mover, in the Scots' invasion -of--of--was it a year ago, or two years ago? He had to pause and count -over to himself the time ere he could recollect, for he seemed to have -lost all power now of reckoning the period that he had been in the -Bastille. Then, when he had arrived at the remembrance that he had -absolutely been here for two winters and was in the third December of -his detention, his mind went back to the name of Tencin again. Tencin, -he repeated--Tencin, the minister who brought about the invasion of -England, who was the friend, almost, indeed, the patron, of his own -master, Charles Edward. Yet he, a devoted follower and adherent of -that Prince, a man who had followed him until the last, had had to -suffer so cruel an imprisonment as this which he had undergone! -Tencin! Would he allow that if he knew of it? Would he let one who had -served the Prince so well be incarcerated there? It might be not, if -he but knew that such was the case. Only, how could the fact be -brought to the powerful cardinal's knowledge? That was the question.</p> - -<p class="normal">He glanced at the marquis, who was still sitting gazing into the -embers, and he remembered that Bluet had said again, before he left -the <i>calotte</i> with the remains of the supper, "Break it to him if you -can." Well, he would try and break it to him; only, he prayed Heaven -that in the breaking he might not kill the old man with the shock. -And, if that did not happen, then--why, then, perhaps, through him the -cardinal might be apprised of how a faithful adherent of the cause he -had championed was wrongfully immured in the Bastille--immured, -neglected, and forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur de Chevagny," he said, drawing up another chair by the side -of the old man, "are you fatigued to-night? You seem so--seem more -weary than usual. You are not ill?" In truth, the old marquis had been -presenting signs of late that his strength was failing rapidly, and -that he was fast nearing the only escape from the Bastille that had -for forty-five years seemed likely to come to him; and to-night he -appeared even more feeble, as well as more absent-minded and -lethargic, than ever; also he was more dazed than was his wont. But he -replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, not ill--or only so from having lived for seventy years; and -also from having passed forty-five of those years in prison. A long -while! A long while! A lifetime! My father's whole life was not so -long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Bertie soothingly, "it may still be prolonged; it may----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you desire for me that it should be prolonged?" the other -asked, lifting his eyes to Bertie's. "Is that to be wished, think -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the younger man hesitated, then he said, speaking very -gently:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, if--if you could find happiness thereby. For suppose--only -suppose--that some great chance should come to you; some undreamed of, -unsuspected chance, by which you might be enabled to see once more the -wife you so tenderly loved, the little child you left sleeping on her -bosom----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop! For God's sake, stop!" De Chevagny exclaimed. "You torture me; -you wring my heart worse, far worse, than ever Bluet did. You conjure -up hopes that my senses tell me can never be realized; you bring -before me thoughts and ideas that I have been trying to bury and put -away for many, many years now."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as he spoke, Bertie saw his old eyes fill with tears; again saw -those tears drop from his eyelids to his snowy beard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my friend, my fellow-prisoner," he said, "believe me, I would not -torture you unnecessarily. Think you that I, before whom this living -tomb yawns as it yawned before you years ago--that I, who, Great -Powers! may be here, in this very room, forty years hence--would say -one word to distress you? No, no. Never, never! But, listen to me, I -beseech you; and, above all, listen to me calmly. I have something to -tell you, something that I pray earnestly may make you very, very -happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he dropped on one knee by the old man's side, while, -taking one of his hands in his, he passed his arm round the other's -waist, and, drawing him to him, supported his now trembling form as a -son might have done. And as he did so he felt how worn and thin his -poor old body was.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" whispered the marquis. "What is it? You--you frighten -me! I--I cannot bear a shock."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray, pray," continued Bertie, "do not be frightened nor alarmed. -Indeed, you have no cause. But, oh, my dear and honoured friend and -companion, there has come strange news into this place, strange news -for you--nay, start not! Strange news! It is said--strive to be calm, -I beseech you--that, that--be brave! as you have been so long--your -release is at hand. It may come soon, at any moment now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He felt the old man's feeble frame quiver in his grasp; he felt him -draw a long breath, and saw him close his eyes. Then for a long while -he was silent, sitting enfolded in the other's arms as though he were -asleep or dead. But at last he spoke:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it should be so, if this is true, what will become of me? Can I -hope to find my wife alive? And for my little child that was--she is -almost old now, if she still lives. She will not know me; will not, -perhaps, believe I am her father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, how can she doubt it? And for your wife--she need not be dead; -how many women live far beyond your own age--why, my mother is near -it. Look hopefully forward, therefore, I beg of you, to your release; -think of what happiness may be yours still."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, although Bertie used every argument to prove to De Chevagny that -there must be still some period of such happiness before him, however -short that period might be, he could not bring him to so regard his -forthcoming release. Above all, he could not make him believe for one -instant that he would ever meet his wife or child upon earth; and he -reiterated again and again that, if he could not have them with him, -he would almost prefer to remain a prisoner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have grown used to the filth and squalor of this place," he said, -"to my wretched rags. My hotel across the river, even if it has not -been long since confiscated, would be no fit abode for me. Better -remain here without hope, better forget that I was ever a free man, -loving others and beloved myself, than go forth into the world where I -am unknown. And," he said tenderly, "I have at least one friend -here--I have you."</p> - -<p class="normal">On the next day, however, when Bluet had told him that beyond all -doubt he was to be taken before D'Argenson that night, he began to -show a little more interest in what was occurring, and, at last, to -look forward eagerly to the hour when the Examiner should arrive.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he said, "I shall have a piteous tale to tell him; perhaps when -he hears it he may be disposed to look into the cases of some others -who are here. There is that poor man Falmy, over the way; he, too, -should be released."</p> - -<p class="normal">At six o'clock the King's Lieutenant paid a visit to the <i>calotte</i>--De -Launey had never been known to visit a "guest" from the time he was -first received by him--and asked the marquis whether he would choose -to have a change of linen and some fresher clothes in which to appear -before the judges; but this offer he firmly refused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I am," he said, "as I have been for so many years," and he held up -his arm, from which his sleeve hung in a hundred tatters; "so I will -go before him, and, if he releases me, so I will go forth into the -world again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," said the King's Lieutenant, politely and with a slight smile, -"Monsieur le Marquis must know will not be permitted. No guest leaves -us who does not sign a paper in which he undertakes most solemnly to -divulge nothing of what has occurred within. He would scarcely, -therefore, be allowed to depart in such a garb as that in which -Monsieur le Marquis is now unhappily clad. Besides, the illustrious -family of De Chevagny is rich; the head of the house will scarcely -adorn himself with such raiment when he goes back to his proper -position."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rich!" the old man echoed with bitter scorn--"rich! What have I to do -with riches now? If I find not my wife or child, I shall not live a -week in my unaccustomed lot. A garret such as this will do well enough -for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Lieutenant departed after this, saying that the marquis--as he was -scrupulous now to call him on every occasion--might expect to be sent -for early in the evening; and those two, who had grown to be such -friends, sat down to pass what, with the exception of the night, would -probably be their last hours together. All was arranged between them -as to what was to be done on Elphinston's behalf when once De Chevagny -was free--he was first to seek out his mother and Kate, being careful -to say nothing to the latter about her husband and his end until he -discovered what she knew about him, and in any circumstances to be -very discreet in what he revealed. Then he was to strive in every way -to bring Elphinston's case before Tencin, so that something might be -done as soon as possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said Bertie, "never will I believe that when once his Eminence -knows that I have been thrust in here under what must be, cannot help -but be, a false charge, a mistake, he will allow me to remain. Oh, my -friend, my friend, lose no time, I beseech you, in releasing me from -this death in life!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," replied De Chevagny, "I shall remember. First your -mother, Madame Elphinston, at Passy; then to her who was that -creature's wife; then--then to the King or to--what is his -name?--Tencin! Tencin! I shall not forget. Yet, oh, my friend, how -shall I leave you here--alone! And you so young--so young! Not yet in -your prime."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not for me," replied Elphinston, assuming a hopefulness he by no -means felt; for he doubted if, even with the Marquis de Chevagny at -liberty and free to plead his cause, his release was likely to be -obtained. If there was, indeed, as the King's Lieutenant had hinted, -some terrible and powerful enemy in the background whom he had injured -without knowing it, it was possible that even Tencin's exertions and -influence might be of no avail. Yet still he sought to cheer the -other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not for me. Once you are free to bring my case before the King I -have no fear myself"--then he started, for he heard the clanging of -the doors. "Hark!" he said, "hark! They are coming for you. Oh, I pray -God that when you return from your examination you may do so with your -liberty assured--as it must be! As it must be! Otherwise they would -not send for you at all," and he kissed the old man's hand as he -spoke, and whispered to him to be calm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless you!" the marquis replied--"God bless you! I will be -brave."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did so the door was unlocked, and once more the King's -Lieutenant came in, accompanied by four turnkeys, one of whom was -Bluet, who behind the officer's back kept gesticulating and nodding -his head and winking at Bertie--who stood a little behind De -Chevagny--in an extraordinary manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fellow had indeed a good heart," he thought to himself, "which -even the miseries he is witness of in this living hell are unable to -suppress. One would think that De Chevagny was his dearest friend, so -overjoyed is he." And still, as he reflected thus, Bluet's grimaces -and becks and nods continued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Réné Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de Chevagny," read out the King's -Lieutenant from a paper in his hand, "the Viscomte d'Argenson, Judge -and Examiner of his Majesty's fortresses, desires your presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I have waited the summons long," the marquis said, with quiet -dignity; "I am ready to obey it."</p> - -<p class="normal">And he turned round to touch Bertie's hand in a temporary farewell, -when again the voice of the King's Lieutenant was heard reading from -the paper:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Elphinston--baptismal name uncertain--captain of the Regiment of -Picardy, formerly of the Regiment of Scots Dutch----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" exclaimed Elphinston, dazed by being summoned at last so -unexpectedly, and also at the last description--"what!"</p> - -<p class="normal">--"the Vicomte d'Argenson, Judge and Examiner of his Majesty's -fortresses, desires your presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, too, am ready," he replied in a low voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Avancez!</i>" said the Lieutenant, and at the word the party left the -<i>calotte</i> and descended the massive stairs, the officer with two -turnkeys leading the way, while Bluet and another followed.</p> - -<p class="normal">And as they went to the Hall of Judgment, Bertie whispered to the -marquis:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I begin to understand. I know now why I have been here so long. It -was another Elphinston, not I, who served in the Scots Dutch--the -Elphinston who eloped with the daughter of the Duc de Baufremont!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> - -<h5>FREE.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When the stairs had been descended, at the foot of which were several -soldiers who, as ever, removed their hats and placed them before their -faces so as not to observe the prisoners, they passed through a little -door into a great court and, traversing this, entered what was known -and served as the arsenal or armoury. There Bertie observed a number -of gorgeously dressed footmen and coachmen seated about, whom he -supposed to belong to the judges, as well as a number of exempts and -several messengers of the Bastille, known to all Paris by the badge -they wore--a brass plate, having on it an engraved club full of points -and spikes, with round it the motto "<i>Monstrorum Terror</i>"--most of -whom, perhaps from long habit, regarded the party very indifferently. -Leaving this place behind, they traversed another court, and then, -after the King's Lieutenant had struck three times on an iron-studded -door, they were admitted to a large, stately hall well warmed and -lighted. It was the hall known as the <i>Salle de Justice</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">At one end of the hall, seated in great padded chairs let into niches, -were four judges clad in scarlet robes, with huge wigs upon their -heads, while one, who was undoubtedly D'Argenson, wore above his wig a -richly laced three-cornered hat, as a symbol that he represented the -sovereign. At his feet sat his registrar, or secretary, with a long -table before him covered with a great crimson cloth that hung down to -the ground, and also with innumerable papers, while at either end of -the table stood sergeants-at-arms with maces. In the midst of the -court, or hall, near to these, was a railed-in space, within it two -small wooden stools, and to these the sergeants motioned that both De -Chevagny and Bertie should approach, while, as they did so, the -registrar handed up to each of the judges papers which were copies of -the interrogatories about to be administered. At another table, with -some papers also before him, sat De Launey, shivering and shaking and -smiling in exactly the same way that Bertie had seen him do more than -two years ago. Poor wretch! smiles and shivers were alike to be soon -over for him now; in another few months the worst form of paralysis -was to end his life.</p> - -<p class="normal">As De Chevagny and Bertie took their seats upon the stools in the -inclosure, the judges half rose and bowed to them (a ceremony always -observed, except when the worst class of <i>détenus</i> were brought before -them), and, on their salutation being returned, D'Argenson, glancing -down his paper of interrogatories, prepared to address De Chevagny, -the first on his list. This judge, who sat as president, and was -reported to work harder than any other twenty men in the French King's -service, sitting, indeed, in the law courts during the whole of each -day, and being able, consequently, to only make his examinations of -the prisons at night, was a strange man to observe. His complexion was -as swarthy as a mulatto's, his eyes enormously large and black, his -eyebrows each as big as an ordinary man's moustache, while his -reputation for austerity had spread through the whole kingdom. Yet he -possessed also, in contradistinction to his appearance, a voice as -soft and sweet as a girl's, or De Launey's own, and hands--one of -which, covered with brilliants, generally lay extended on the desk -before him--as white as marble.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur the Marquis de Chevagny," he began now--while as he did so -the old man rose from the stool and faced him as he leaned upon the -rail--"Monsieur de Chevagny, you have been a resident in this fortress -for a long period. I perceive you came here on the 30th of January, -1704," and the silvery tones ceased for a moment as though awaiting an -answer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true," De Chevagny replied, "true." And he bent his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The charge against you was the writing of a contumelious lampoon upon -the then Marquise de la Vallière and holding her up to contempt and -derision. For that the lettre de cachet concerning you was signed -by--by a then illustrious personage. That letter was an open one, -unlimited as to the continuance of its effect----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The charge was true," murmured the marquis, "the punishment cruel -beyond all thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur le Marquis," interposed the judge, while his voice sounded -even sweeter, more silvery than before, "I must remind you of what -doubtless in the passage of years you have forgotten: There must be no -criticism here, no discussion of those who are, or once were, -all-powerful. Monsieur, I represent the King's Majesty; let me beg of -you to offend--unintentionally, no doubt--no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment, and it seemed as if some bird had ceased to warble -its innocent notes; then he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The family of La Vallière is now practically extinct. The King, in -his sublime goodness, is therefore pleased to ordain that you shall no -longer be asked to remain here. Monsieur le Marquis de Chevagny, -permit me to congratulate you. You may depart at any time most -convenient to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man raised his hand to his long white beard and stroked it -thoughtfully for a moment; then he, in his clear aristocratic tones, -replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You congratulate me, monsieur, on what? On a wasted, ruined life, -perhaps; a prison for forty-five years; an existence given me by God -and taken away by man; a home desolated; a broken heart--nay, two, if -not three, broken hearts; and all for what? A youthful folly, a joke -made in the exuberance of a young man's spirit. Oh, monsieur, spare me -your congratulations! If you were even born when I first came here, -think, think of the passage of those years, think of what lives you -have known, think of the use they have been put to, and then reflect -on mine. Surely your congratulations are the last bitter drop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur de Chevagny," replied the judge, "I must not argue with you. -Yet one word I will say: I had no part in sending you here; my share -is only to tell you that you are free." And he took up in his jewelled -hand a fresh batch of papers, and, stooping forward, whispered -something to the registrar.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the old man tottered back to the stool he had risen from, that -functionary said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Elphinston, captain of the Regiment of Picardy, formerly of the -Regiment of Scots Dutch, answer to your name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name," said Bertie, advancing to the rail and standing as the -marquis had previously stood, "is Elphinston, and I am of the Regiment -of Picardy. I never served in the Scots Dutch Regiment."</p> - -<p class="normal">With an almost imperceptible start D'Argenson bent his dark, luminous -eyes on him, as did all the other judges, who had sat like dead men in -their seats, while De Launey, with the King's Lieutenant and the -registrar, also cast surprised looks on him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You say that you were never in the regiment of Scots Dutch, -monsieur?" asked D'Argenson, still holding the papers in his hand and -glancing at them; "what, then, is your <i>nom de baptême?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bertie."</p> - -<p class="normal">The judge glanced again at the papers, then he conferred for a moment -with the other judges, and then spoke again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon us our ignorance of your Scotch name, monsieur; but this name -'Bertie' we do not know it. Albert we know, but not Bertie. Is that -the whole name, or a part of one--an abbreviation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Bertie, <i>tout court</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">The white hand of the judge rubbed his chin softly, and he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You were never in the Scots Dutch Regiment? And, <i>par exemple</i>, you -will perhaps also tell us if you are the husband of Mademoiselle de -Baufremont, daughter of the duke of that name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not. I am the husband of no woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">A visible stir went through the others in the <i>Salle de Justice</i> at -these words, while D'Argenson shrugged his shoulders. Then, sweetly as -ever, he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are many noble Scotch gentlemen serving his Majesty. Would it -be known to you if there were any others of your name--your family -name--in the army?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know of one other," Bertie replied. "<i>He</i> was in the Scots Dutch."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed D'Argenson. "And his first name, what is that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Basil."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Argenson threw down his papers and for several minutes conferred -again with the other judges; and during the time he did so Bertie -could not but muse on how the Bastille and its accursed uses had been -lent to one more crime, one more mistake that was in itself a crime. -For that he had suffered for the man who was his namesake there could -now be no doubt; the only wonder in his mind was that it had never -occurred to him before, never dawned upon him that such was the case. -And now he only prayed that the judges might never have it come to -their knowledge that, innocently enough, he had rendered assistance to -that other Elphinston.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God knows," he mused, "that I have suffered sufficiently already by -doing so; 'twas through that assistance that I lost my love; surely I -shall not also have to suffer further; surely the Duke de Baufremont's -vengeance will not be permitted to still fall heavily on me." And once -more he prayed that his share in the transaction might not be known.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then D'Argenson spoke again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Monsieur le Capitaine</i>," he said, "your answers to my -interrogatories appear to show that, by grave misfortune, you have -been confused with another man. Such errors are always to be -regretted; nay, more, when they have been made, it is always the -custom of his Majesty--a most gracious sovereign!--to make atonement -for them and to nobly recompense those who have been injured. I shall -to-morrow take steps to ratify your statement: if I find it accurate, -you may expect to go away from here in a very short time. His Majesty -will sign your acquittance at once. You will be free."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," replied Bertie, "I might have been free two years and a half -ago, might never have suffered this long misery--while much other -misery might have also been spared to those whom I love and who love -me--had this examination taken place when I was first brought here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless," D'Argenson replied coldly. "But the laws of France have -their mode of procedure and cannot be altered for any case in -particular. <i>Monsieur le Capitaine</i>, your examination is concluded," -and turning to his brother judges, he said, as he rose:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mes frères, la séance est terminée</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Of what use was it, Bertie asked himself as he and De Chevagny were -conducted back to the <i>calotte</i>, to rage or fret against this legal -wall of adamant? As well hurl one's self against a rock and hope to -make an impression on it. For a fault not his own, he had been forced -to endure two years and more of miserable imprisonment, and now, by -chance alone, he was likely to be set free.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet the very word "free" sent his blood dancing and tingling in his -veins once more; it brought to him the happy hope of seeing his -mother, his beloved Kate again. And when he saw her, there would be no -further barrier between them; she, too, was free--free to become his -wife. Then, at last, their long vexations would be over--at last--at -last!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, <i>mes enfants</i>," said Bluet -to them when once more they were back in the <i>calotte</i>, "it will not -be for long now. Meanwhile, to-morrow, I will see if I cannot snatch -from that villainous cellarer a bottle of the best <i>vin de Brecquiny</i> -wherewith to celebrate your sortie. And I--though I am but a poor -drinker at best--will drink to your happy restoration to your friends -and families."</p> - -<p class="normal">As the turnkey had said, so it happened. From the next morning their -meals were improved; the best wine was served to them; everything gave -promise that their imprisonment was at an end. One morning--which was -the third day from their examination by D'Argenson--Bluet, accompanied -by another turnkey, came in, bearing a large basket, in which was a -quantity of new linen, with some ruffles and lace for both of them. -Then, next, the tailor was brought in to prepare a plain but -serviceable suit for the marquis, and also to repair Bertie's clothes, -his suit being, though much used, still wearable. And, to complete -all, Bluet arrived on another morning with the necessary implements -for cutting and trimming their hair and beards, which, with the -exception of the attentions they had been able to render each other -with a rusty pair of scissors they had discovered imbedded in the -filth of the floor, had not been done at all since the younger -prisoner had been there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Avec ça!</i>" exclaimed their cheerful janitor, "messieurs will go -forth into the world again as though to a <i>fête</i> or a wedding. <i>Ma -foi!</i> Monsieur le Marquis, you look not fifty years of age. You will -both do very well. Ah, but the brave day is at hand!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And at last it came. One evening, a week now after the judge had -pronounced that the Marquis de Chevagny might go back to life, and had -said that the Captain Elphinston might cherish hopes of doing so, the -King's Lieutenant again made his appearance in the <i>calotte</i>, -unaccompanied this time by anyone but Bluet, for the purpose of -unbarring the doors.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Messieurs," he said, "have the goodness to accompany me to the <i>Salle -de Justice</i>. The commissary attends you to hand to you your -<i>permission de sortie</i>. You will depart to-morrow, if it so pleases -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Rising, they followed him through all the passages and courts as -before, and arrived at the great hall. Here they observed that the -judges were not again present, but in their place, and seated at the -scarlet-draped table of the judges' registrar was the commissary, a -little, old, wizened man, who bowed to them as they entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be seated, I beg," he said, motioning them to two chairs placed in -front of him--two <i>fauteuils</i> very different in appearance and comfort -from the stools that had previously been accorded them; and when they -had done so, he instantly read from two papers before him:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Réné Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de Chevagny," he began; "his -Majesty, King Louis XV, graciously accords you this his permission to -depart out of this fortress, the Bastille, from this present moment. -This permission I now hand to you as a certificate of his Majesty's -gracious goodness." Here he held the paper out over the table to the -old man, who took it from him without uttering one word. Then the -commissary continued: "And in consideration of your having been unable -to attend to your own interests, properties, and estates of late, his -Majesty ordains that you may draw upon the captain of this his -fortress, Monsieur Jourdan de Launey, for a sum not exceeding fifty -<i>Louis d'ors</i>, for your present expenses, to be by you recouped later -on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I want nothing," De Chevagny began, when, as he did so, his eye -fell upon Bluet standing near and behind the King's Lieutenant, and -remembering all the fellow's kindness to him--kindness which he had -never been under any obligation to show he ceased what he was saying; -while the commissary continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"From this moment you are at liberty to depart. Monsieur le Marquis -you will consult your own pleasure as to when you do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then turning to Bertie and addressing him, he again read out the -rigmarole about "his Majesty's gracious goodness," and handed to him -his certificate of freedom. And also he informed him that he, too, -could draw on De Launey for fifty <i>Louis d'ors</i>, to be recorded later -on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If, monsieur," Bertie exclaimed, however, at this, "I draw them, I -know not how they are ever to be refunded. I was an officer in the -French King's army when I was brought here. I can scarcely suppose I -am one now. When I quit this prison I am as like as not to be a beggar -in the streets. This incarceration has stolen my life from me for two -years; now I am free, its effect will be to deprive me of the means -whereby to live in the future."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Monsieur le Capitaine</i>, I think not. I am authorized to tell you -that a commission in his Majesty's service will still be provided for -you, in consequence of your residence here being due to a slight -mistake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," said Bertie; "I rejoice to hear that so much justice will -be done to me." Yet, as he spoke, he took a vow that never more would -he serve the French King, never more draw sword for a country in which -such errors could happen as that which had imprisoned him for those -two years.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said the commissary, "you must please to sign these papers, and -to swear upon your honours that you will neither reveal, when outside -this fortress, any of the situations of the various chambers, -apartments, towers, halls, or courts of which you have obtained any -knowledge, nor the names of any other persons here with which you have -become acquainted in any way. Also you must, upon your honours, state -that you carry no messages from anyone within this fortress to anyone -whatsoever outside of it, either written or verbal. And when you do go -forth at the time it shall please you, you will also sign another -paper stating that you have been deprived of nothing, neither money, -clothes, jewellery, nor trinkets of which you were in possession when -you arrived."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Chevagny shrugged his shoulders as he answered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may sign with safety. I have no recollection of anything I had -about me when I came here in the year 1704. I know not what I had. And -what matters it? What matters it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for me," said Elphinston, "I had but a few gold pieces in my purse -when I came here, and they have been exhausted long ago in payment for -my bed. There can be nothing left; and if there is, I want it not."</p> - -<p class="normal">That night, however, both he and De Chevagny decided to draw each upon -De Launey for ten <i>Louis d'ors</i>, with which to reward the faithful -Bluet, and also--for such was the custom even in this hateful place-to -give a treat to the turnkeys. So, ere they slept for the last time in -their miserable chamber, these men were called in, and, bringing with -them various sorts of wine, chocolate, pasties, and ratafias, were -rewarded also with pieces of money, while they drank to the health of -those whom they termed the "parting guests."</p> - -<p class="normal">One other had, however, to be taken a sad farewell of--one whom there -was no likelihood of their ever meeting again in this world--the -unhappy Genevese, Falmy. At daybreak Bertie was at the window looking -for him, and a few moments later he appeared at his; and the tears -streamed down the former's eyes so as almost to blind him as for the -last time he sent his message across to the opposite tower. "Farewell! -I leave with De Chevagny," he signalled. "God ever bless you, and may -He at last release you! Is there no message for anyone outside?" For, -in spite of the promise he had given to take none from any prisoner, -he felt absolved from it when he thought of the bitter agony of those -incarcerated still. Indeed, such was the feeling of all who went forth -from that living death.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Falmy shook his head sadly; then, listlessly, as though hopeless -and heartbroken, he signalled back, "None; I have no friends. If I -ever had any, they are dead or have forgotten me. Farewell!" and, with -a look upon his face that Bertie never forgot, he left the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">Down through the corridors and passages they passed, away through the -<i>corps de garde</i>, with, for the last time, their laced hats held -before their faces, until they reached the wicket and so to the great -gates which opened to admit their exit. And a moment later, as the -great clock struck nine above their heads, they stood outside the -prison walls.<a name="div4Ref_D" href="#div4_D"><sup>[Note D]</sup></a> They were -free!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE MARQUIS GOES HOME.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The turnkey had provided a <i>fiacre</i> for them, and into this they -stepped from the outside of the great gate, while Bluet; looking as -sad as though he were parting for ever from his dearest friends, asked -where the man should be instructed to drive them to? Strange to say, -neither had given any thought to this matter, though, had Bertie been -alone, no consideration would have been necessary on the subject. His -mother's house would have been his destination; for, although often -and often in his misery he had mused on whether she was still alive, -and on whether she would ever fold him in her arms again, nothing -would have kept him from going straight to Passy and at once resolving -his doubts.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, with De Chevagny by his side--a poor old man cast back into -an unknown world after nearly half a century's exclusion from it--he -could not leave him; he must be his first consideration.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear friend," he said, while still Bluet stood by the coach door, -"have you thought of where we shall proceed to? Will you go to your -own home first, or come to mine--if--if--God! if I have any left -there. At least we will not part--or not now, not now."</p> - -<p class="normal">The poor, old marquis wrapped the dark blue cloak they had provided -him with around him as the other spoke, for the December morning, -although bright and sunny, was cold and crisp, then he said, "Home! to -my home? What home have I?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" exclaimed Bluet, consoling to the last, "<i>sans doute</i>, a -beautiful home. Monsieur must well remember--even I, a prison -watch-dog, have heard of it--the Hôtel de Chevagny. Monsieur will -doubtless go there. And, <i>parbleu!</i> when I have a day's release from -my labours, I shall make a little visit to the marquis. He will be -glad to see his old friend and servant, Bluet <i>N'est ce pas?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the marquis whispered, dazed, as it seemed to the others, by -his freedom--"yes, I shall always be glad to see you, Bluet. Let us -go--let us go," and he held out his hand to the turnkey, as did -Bertie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hôtel de Chevagny," said Bluet to the driver; "you know it without -doubt. Away with you to the house of the noble marquis!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Chevagny!" said the man from his box--"De Chevagny! No, I know it -not. What is the quarter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"St. Germain, naturally. Monsieur," looking in again at the window, -"the name of the street--of the street, monsieur?" he repeated, seeing -that the marquis appeared to scarcely understand him. But a moment -later he muttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Rue Charles Martel. That is it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bon!" said the coachman, he having caught the words--"<i>bon!</i> Rue -Charles Martel," and as once more Bluet exchanged farewells with them, -he lashed his horse and drove off, while De Chevagny cast one last -look on the Bastille and shuddered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forty-five years," he murmured, "forty-five years. A young man when I -entered there, an old man now--worn out and near his end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," said Bertie, "do not think so. Remember, you may find many -alive who are still dear to you. Let us pray so at least."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the marquis, burying his head in the collar of his cloak, spoke no -more, though Bertie, regarding him from time to time, saw that he was -gazing out and observing the places they passed by; and as they -traversed the Pont Neuf, he observed a brighter look in his face than -he had hitherto seen. "This, at least, has not changed," he muttered. -"It is the same as when I was young--as when I passed over it to go to -the Bastille. Forty-five years ago!--forty-five years ago!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently--for it was no great distance from the Quartier St. Antoine -to that of St. Germain--the hackney coach arrived at the end of the -Rue Charles Martel; a long, sad-looking street, having high walls all -along it into which were set great wooden gates, and behind which were -large courtyards belonging to the various mansions or hotels of the -nobility. Yet, as they entered this street and observed a large, -modern, and very gaunt-looking house, De Chevagny seemed more -bewildered than ever, and raised his finger to his forehead as though -confused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I--do not understand," he said. "Has the man mistaken the way? -Bellancourt's house stood here--years ago--when I was a lad. I have -played in the gardens often--oh, so often, with his children! It was -an old, old house, built in the days of Henri of Navarre. Where is it? -That is not it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is a new building," replied Bertie; "is it not possible the -present owner may have removed the old one to make way for this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes," De Chevagny whispered--"yes, it is forty-five years ago. I -should have remembered. Forty-five years ago. And sixty since I played -under the cedars in the garden. My God!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The hackney carriage rolled along slowly, for in this old-fashioned -street the road, like so many in Paris in those days, was far from -good, and a slight thaw had now set in which rendered it particularly -heavy. Then, looking out, the marquis pointed to an antique mansion -the roofs of which could be seen behind the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">"See," he said excitedly, "see, it is the house of De Montpouillan, -the man whom the King delighted to honour! I was at a ball there three -nights before I was taken, and he--Louis, the Grand Monarque--was -there too. He danced in the ballet<a name="div4Ref_09" href="#div4_09"><sup>[9]</sup></a> -with the daughter of St. -Hillaire, a blonde whose hair shone like the gold of a new <i>Louis -d'or</i>. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> observe--there is a hatchment over the house. -Someone is dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Bertie tried to soothe him by reminding him that, whomsoever it -might be, he could scarcely have known them after his long and -terrible absence; yet this consolation, unhappy as it was, only served -to remind him of his own sad fate and to set him once more murmuring, -"Forty-five years!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But a moment afterwards he gave a gasp--a cry, indeed--and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My house! my house! See, see, it is there!" and called feebly to the -driver to stop.</p> - -<p class="normal">Above the walls Bertie could perceive the red tiles of a long, low -hotel; could observe also that in many places some of those tiles had -fallen away and left great gaps yawning; and also that the whole gave -signs of being in a ruinous condition. The huge, double wooden gates -hung loosely on their hinges, while one or two beams in them bulged -inward from rottenness and the lock, once large and handsome and a -triumph of the smith's art, was rusted and almost fallen from its -wooden socket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! alas!" thought Elphinston to himself, "it is not here that he -will find his wife or child. He must look farther for them--perhaps in -heaven!--who knows? Poor De Chevagny--poor, unhappy man!"</p> - -<p class="normal">There hung a great iron bell-handle on the side of the vast door, and -the marquis, grasping it, rang a peal that could be heard echoing in -the house itself across the courtyard--a peal that met with no -response. Then they waited for a minute or two, the marquis leaning on -Bertie's arm and gazing up wistfully into his face, as though seeking -to read therein what his thoughts might be, and the driver staring -over the wall at the unshuttered and uncurtained windows.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" the man muttered to himself so that they could not hear -him, "after having dwelt in the <i>palais des grenouilles</i><a name="div4Ref_10" href="#div4_10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> -so long, -it is not strange if the master is no more expected," and he cracked -his whip vigorously as though hoping, perhaps, to thereby attract some -attention from within.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still the old man looked up sadly at his companion's face, and -muttered, "My home, my home!" so ruefully that the other had to turn -away from him so that he should not see his eyes; and then Bertie, -seizing the bell handle, rang a strong, lusty peal upon it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If there is anyone here," he said, "that should arouse them. The bell -has a tongue that might wake the dead!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He could have bitten his own tongue out a moment later, for at his -words, especially the last one, De Chevagny started, and then -muttered, "The dead--the dead. Ah! it is the dead who never come back -to us. They are gone. All are gone! When shall we meet again? Never, -never, never!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As though in answer to that question which his own weary heart had -answered for itself, a door was heard to open in the front of the -house--it creaked wofully on its hinges--and then steps were also -heard upon the stones of the courtyard, the steps of someone in -sabots, and next the key was turned in the rusty lock and one half of -the great gate pulled back; following upon which, a woman of about -forty years of age appeared at the doorway, and, after regarding the -<i>fiacre</i> and the young man with the old one now leaning so heavily on -his arm, asked them what they desired.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To come into my own house," said the latter, looking at her, though -he could see at once that she had been born since he last stood upon -that spot. "I am the Marquis de Chevagny."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was not an uncomely-looking woman, neither did she appear hard nor -severe; still she answered, with a look of suspicion in her face:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no Marquis de Chevagny. The title exists no longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said the old man feebly, "I am he. This is my house. Woman, I -have but left the Bastille an hour ago. I have been a prisoner there -for forty-five years."</p> - -<p class="normal">She took a step backward, as though to regard him more particularly, -while her brow wrinkled a little and her colour came and went, as she -exclaimed, "My God, it is not possible!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true," he said. "I pray you let me enter. I am very old and -feeble--older than even I should be by my years--and--and this <i>is</i> my -house. Do not refuse me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enter," the woman said, pulling wider open the door. "And -this--monsieur," glancing at Bertie, "who is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I also have been a prisoner in the Bastille, though for only a short -space of time in comparison with his. I beseech you," he said, sinking -his voice to a whisper, "answer him very gently--especially when he -asks you of--of his family."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand," the woman said in return as she walked by their -side across the courtyard, in which one or two fowls were strutting -about--"I understand. Is he truly the marquis?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is, indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God help him!" and as she spoke, they reached the door of the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">They entered a great hall with a tiled floor and, above it at the -back, a window of stained glass, some panes of which were broken--a -hall in which there was no furniture except a plain oaken bench, that -looked as though it had been used to chop wood upon; and on to this -the Marquis de Chevagny sank, exhausted already, while Bertie, -saddened at such a home-coming as this, stood by to cheer and comfort -him if possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is not as I left it," the old man said as his glance roved round -the spacious but empty hall. "Has there been no one to guard it?" -Then, as though such trifles were unworthy of consideration, he asked -eagerly, while a strange light shone from his eyes: "I had a wife, a -child, when they took me from here. Are they--they--still alive?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it possible monsieur does not know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know! What should I know? Woman, I tell you I have been dead to the -world for forty-five years--buried alive in a place to which no news -ever comes. Where," he continued, "where are my wife and child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! monsieur," she said, seeming while she spoke as though -endeavouring to avoid answering him, "I have heard of you from my -father; he was <i>garde chasse</i> at the Château de Chevagny many years -ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lenoir! Was he your father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, monsieur, but he has been dead these twenty years; and then----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My wife and child!" he interrupted--"my wife and child! Are they -dead, too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! monsieur, I never saw Madame la Marquise. She--she--died the -year I was born."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Chevagny straightened himself upon the bench--as he did so there -came to Bertie's recollection how his own father had so straightened -himself as he died in his arms a few years before, and he wondered why -he recalled that incident at this moment--then the marquis said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The year you were born? How old are you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forty-one, monsieur."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forty-one!" he whispered, "forty-one! So! she lived four years. -Four years. And I--I--have been hoping, praying--O God! how I have -prayed!--to see her again--to see her again, while for forty-one years -she has been lying in her grave--in her grave!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused awhile, perhaps because he heard the sobs of Bertie and the -woman mingling with his own; then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the little child--my dear, dear little babe! Is--is she dead, -too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Non</i>, monsieur--at least I think not. She----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She married, very young, the Vicomte de Brunet," the woman answered -through her tears, "and went with him to Guadeloupe; and sometimes, at -intervals, she writes to her friends in Paris, and they send me news -of her. Also, she has once written to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And she is well? Has she children of her own, perhaps?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, monsieur. Her marriage has not been so blessed by the <i>bon -Dieu!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">He sat thinking awhile, meditating deeply ere he spoke again; then he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"But this house and the château--they were good properties; we have -drawn large sums from them for generations. Who takes the rents, the -produce, now--to whom do they belong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the state, I have heard, monsieur; to the King; though, it is -said, in trust only. Yet, I know not. I cannot say. But I suppose so. -Twice annually a monsieur comes from the minister of the King to visit -us, and twice, also, I hear, one visits the château. If all has been -saved for you, monsieur, during your long absence, you should be very -rich."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rich," he repeated--"rich! very rich! Yes, yes, very rich." Then, -turning on the woman suddenly, almost fiercely for him, he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where--where, do you know--did my wife die? Where did my little child -live until she married? If the state, the King, took possession of my -property, they would not let them stay here nor at the château."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame la Marquise went back to stay with her father after monsieur -had gone away. Mademoiselle de Chevagny lived with him also until she -married." Then, observing that the old man looked even more feeble and -drawn than she had at first noticed, she said: "But, monsieur, do not -stay here in this cold hall. Come into the saloon, I beg of you. There -is no fire, but I can soon make one. Come, monsieur, come."</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly leaning on Bertie's arm, he rose at her behest--and now the -latter perceived that he weighed more heavily on him than before--and, -all together, they went into a fair-sized <i>salon</i>, or morning-room, to -the left of the corridor; while the woman, preceding them, made haste -to open the window shutters and to let a flood of light from the -wintry sun pour into the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed to have been left much as it must have been in those -long-past years, when so dreadful a doom had fallen upon that unhappy -family--perhaps had scarcely undergone any alteration since those -days. Upon the walls there hung several pictures: one, of a man in -half armour, bearing a strong resemblance to him who now tottered on -Bertie's arm; another, of an elderly woman, of a long anterior date; a -third, of a young man in all the bravery of the rich apparel of Louis -XIV's date, a young man with bright blue eyes and a joyous smile--De -Chevagny himself. Also, there were many chairs, none very comfortable, -since, fifty years before this time, comfortable chairs were almost -unknown articles; a table or so and a tabouret; also a woman's -worktable in a corner by the fireplace with, above it, a painting of a -fair young girl with a soft, gentle expression, done in what was, at -the period in which it was painted, quite a new style--the style of -Antoine Watteau--and much embellished with a rural landscape behind -the portrait.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a gasp, a cry of recognition, De Chevagny regarded this portrait -in the light of the thin December sun, and then, leaning now so -heavily on Bertie's arm as to be almost entirely held up and supported -by him, he exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"See! see! She has come back to me; we have met again! Again, Jeanne, -my love, my wife, my dear! O Jeanne, Jeanne, we shall be so happy -now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman and Bertie regarded each other significantly, though neither -could speak from emotion, while De Chevagny addressed the latter, -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"See! there is the table where nightly she sits and works, making -little things for the child that is to come--the babe that shall make -us so happy. Here," and he put his finger on a gilt nail by the -chimney-piece, "where she hangs her workbasket at night; here," and he -pointed to a low stool, "where I sit by her side and tell her all I -have done at the court."</p> - -<p class="normal">He broke off, and appeared to be listening.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark!" he said, "hark! It is striking eleven--we are going to -bed--the great <i>cloche</i> is ringing; there is a noise in the courtyard. -God!" he screamed, "it is full of torches; the exempts are there; they -have come to seize me--to drag me to the Bastille--to part us! Hide! -oh, hide me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Courage, courage, dear friend," said Bertie, soothingly, as he held -him in his arms, and noticed once again how heavy and inert his poor -form was--"courage, courage! They will never come for you again. You -are free forever now. Dispel these illusions. Be brave."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Free," he repeated, "free!" and his wandering blue eyes sought -Bertie's once more, while in them there was again that wistful look -which so wrung his heart. "Free! yes, I am free!" and as he spoke he -released himself from Elphinston's grasp and flung himself upon his -knees before his wife's picture.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My darling," he murmured, gazing up at it, "<i>ma mignonne</i>, we shall -never part more. I am free! free! free! And so happy! oh, so happy!" -and he clasped his hands together and bent over the low chair before -the picture. And once again he looked up and murmured, "So--so happy -now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">When at last they ventured to speak to him, and, getting no answer, to -raise his head, they saw upon his face so sweet and placid a smile -that, remembering all, Bertie would not have wished to call him back -to the world in which he had suffered so much.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4> - -<h5>"AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was the night of Monday, the 10th of December, 1748, and once again -all Paris lay under the snow--snow that hung in great masses over the -eaves of the houses, threatening, when the next thaw should come, to -fall and envelop the passers-by; that was caked and hardened on the -<i>chaussées</i> of all the streets by the recent hard frost; that, out on -the quays, was of the consistency of iron almost from the same cause; -while, so severe had that frost been, that on the river the snow had -been frozen into huge solid blocks, which swirled round and round in -vast masses as, under the stars, they floated slowly down towards the -open country and the sea.</p> - -<p class="normal">There were but few abroad on this cold night, certainly few -pedestrians; yet, as the clocks from Nôtre Dame and all the other -churches round struck eleven, there was one who, swiftly making his -way along the Quai des Théatins, directly opposite the Louvre, seemed -neither to heed the cold nor the snow beneath his feet. Wrapped in a -long cloak, or roquelaure, held up sufficiently, however, not to -impede his limbs in their stride, and with his three-cornered hat -pressed down closely over his head, this man, without turning round to -regard even the few casual passers-by, went onward until, as he neared -the edge of the quay, on which stood a large, imposing hotel, from the -windows of which issued a blaze of lights, he suddenly stopped in -amazement; for outside this great mansion there was what he least -would have expected to see--a large concourse of people assembled -together, indiscriminately mixed with whom were exempts, other -officers of police, and a considerable body of soldiers, as well as -several sergeants of the grenadiers clad in their cuirasses and -skullcaps. Also he saw a number of musketeers (or horse guards) -standing by their horses ready to mount them, as well as several of -the <i>guets</i>, or street watchmen, near them; while, to make this -concourse more astonishing to those who did not know what might be its -object, in the road were half a dozen scaling ladders, with, by them, -several of the <i>guets</i>, with axes and hammers in their hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that which was more astonishing for him to behold than aught else -was that between the ordinary people or onlookers in the streets and -the officials, civil and military, who stood in front of the mansion, -was stretched as a barrier a thick, handsome, crimson silk cord -fringed with gold. This cord, attached to gilt poles or staves about -four feet high, served with the hotel itself to form an exact square, -the house making the fourth side; and inside that square itself it was -that the musketeers, sergeants of the grenadiers, and superior -officers of the police were standing, as well as several other -officers of high rank, as testified by their gorgeous uniforms and -trappings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the Prince's house," Bertie whispered to himself, for he was -the man who had been making his way swiftly along the Quai des -Théatins but a few moments ago--"the Prince's house! What can be -intended towards him? He should be safe here in Paris, if anywhere. -And Kate is within--a lady of his suite--ill, and, my mother said, -sick almost to death. Heaven! I may not be able to see her even now, -after so long! What a fate is mine! On the first night that I am able -to approach her after so long and cruel a separation, to find the way -barred thus!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was about to ask a man in the crowd which he had now joined what -the strange scene meant, when a murmur arose amongst those collected -there, and at the same moment the order was given to the musketeers to -mount their horses and the sergeants of grenadiers to form their men -into double line. And at that instant the tramp of other animals' -hoofs was heard and the roll of wheels. Then, a moment later, a -handsome and much-gilded coach drawn by four horses came swiftly along -the quay until it reached the crowd, and the astonished coachman, -seeing the gilt-embroidered crimson cord with the military behind it, -pulled his animals up sharply.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the interior of the coach a voice, clear, crisp, and distinct, -was heard exclaiming in French:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the meaning of this assembly? Why am I prevented from -entering my house?" and directly afterwards a gloved hand was put out -from the open window, while a tall young man of about thirty years of -age stepped from the coach.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was clad, perhaps because of the wintry weather, in a thick -rose-coloured velvet suit embroidered with silver and lined with -peach-coloured satin and silver tissue, and his waistcoat was a rich -gold brocade with a spangled fringe set on in scallops; his silk -stockings were also peach-coloured; in his lace cravat there sparkled -a magnificent diamond solitaire. Over his shoulders he wore the -insignia of the Garter of England and the order of St. Andrew, and on -his breast there hung a gold medal by a blue satin ribbon, on which, -if it could have been inspected, would have been seen the words, -"Carolus, Walliæ Princeps, Amor et Spes Britanniæ." As to his -appearance, his face was oval and of a good complexion, though now he -seemed somewhat pallid in the torchlight, and his eyes, which were -very prominent and full, were blue.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless your Royal Highness!" cried Bertie loudly, in which he was -imitated by many, while all the officers and soldiers saluted him, and -the richly clad civilians in the inclosure uncovered their hats.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prince glanced at the spot where Elphinston's voice came from, and -gave a look of recognition at his tall, stalwart form; then, turning -to two of the gentlemen who surrounded him, he said, while he threw -over his shoulders a small fleecy cape of ermine he had brought in his -hand from the carriage: "Monseigneur le Duc de Biron, and you, -Monsieur de Vaudreville, you are friends of mine--friends ever, as I -have thought--explain to me, therefore, I beg you, why my way is -barred to my abode, and why I see you amongst those who so bar it? -And, Monsieur le Duc and gentlemen, the night is more than cold; be -covered, I beseech you," and he put on his own hat, in the lace of -which there sparkled another superb diamond as an aigrette, while the -white cockade was visible.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the others remained uncovered, while the Duc de Biron said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"May it please you, monseigneur----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monseigneur!" interrupted Charles Edward. "I am the Prince of Wales! -Either that, or nothing! Now, if you please, the reason of this -<i>guet-apens</i>. Do I owe it to my cousin Louis?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The duke shrugged his shoulders, as though deprecating the Prince's -wrath, then he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"His Majesty regrets that your Highness would not conform to his -desire that you should leave France, according to the terms of the -recent peace made at Aix-la-Chapelle, as conveyed to you by the Duc de -Gesvres----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither my royal father nor I had part in that peace," again -interrupted the Prince.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," went on the Duc de Biron, "his Majesty has thought it -well that you shall be conducted, with all respect and reverence, to -the frontier. Yet some forms must be observed, which I pray your -Highness to pardon." Then, turning to Monsieur de Vaudreville, he -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your duty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monseigneur," said De Vaudreville, "I arrest you in the name of the -King, my master."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," exclaimed Bertie, as with a bound he rushed under the crimson -cord, "arrest me also! This is the Prince of Wales, my master; we -fought near to one another in the Scotch campaign; where he goes I go -too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Captain Elphinston," said Charles Edward, who had recognised him when -first he spoke, "I am, indeed, rejoiced to see you by my side again. -There could be no truer friend. Yet it must not be. Your services have -already been too many; I can never requite them. Henceforth live for -yourself and those who love you." And turning to the duke and De -Vaudreville, who with the soldiers and the crowd had been -astounded--indeed, touched--with this proof of devotion to the -unfortunate Prince, he said: "I shall not dispute his Majesty's -orders. Yet, I think the manner is a little too violent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope not, monseigneur," De Biron said. "I should be <i>au desespoir</i> -if such were the case. But since there are other formalities to be -gone through and your Highness does not contest his Majesty's decree, -will you please to enter your house, and to permit of our accompanying -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you please," replied the Prince. "But," he said, pointing to -Bertie, "here is a gallant gentleman of the family of my Lord -Balmerino, who was done to death on Tower Hill in my cause. He is a -devoted adherent of our house, though I have lost sight of him for -some time. Gentlemen, I am alone, save for my grooms. I beg of you to -allow him to enter also."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duc de Biron and De Vaudreville bowed at his words, and bowed -again to Elphinston, after which the order was given for the soldiers -to stand out of the way while his Highness entered the house. Then, -with another bow, the duke begged the Prince to precede them, -motioning also to Bertie to accompany them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to see you, Captain Elphinston," Charles Edward said as -they approached the hall. "I have thought often of you and of your -poor friend, and mine, Mr. Sholto. And--you will find in my house one -to whom your coming may be a new life. You understand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand, your Royal Highness. I should have been here long -before, but that I have been a prisoner in the Bastille."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the Bastille! You! So that is where you have been hidden from all -human knowledge. But stay--we cannot talk now. What do they intend to -me? Do you know? I do not, though I have long known that my presence -in Paris is unwelcome."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bertie shook his head mournfully, and then they entered the hall of -the mansion which the Prince had hired from a French nobleman. A huge -fire burned in the grate at one end of it, and to this Charles Edward -advanced, and, holding out his hands to the blaze, warmed them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your Highness," said the Duc de Biron, who by no means appeared to -relish the task before him, "again I beg you to believe that in what -we have now to do no disrespect is intended. Yet, it must be done. I -have to ask you for your sword and any other weapons you may have -about you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prince started and coloured at these words, then, with a calmness -which he never lost until the end of his life--when despair and, alas! -drink had done their worst with him--he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall never deliver my sword to you, nor any man. But, since I am -helpless---- No, Captain Elphinston," seeing a movement on the -latter's part, "do not interfere, I beg you. Since I am helpless, you -may take them, and what else I have of arms."</p> - -<p class="normal">At a sign from the duke, De Vaudreville undid the sash of his dress -sword--he had been that night to a gala performance at the opera in -the Palais Royal--and took the weapon from him, and then, seeing a -melancholy smile upon his face, the other, with many profusions of -apology and regret, gently felt in his pockets and removed from them -two small ivory-handled and silver-inlaid pistols and a little knife -with two blades.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not be surprised," the Prince said, "at seeing the pistols. Since -I was hunted like a wild beast in Scotland--ay, hunted even by -dogs--I, a king's son--I have carried them ever. And here in Paris -also my life has been sought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have to ask your Highness to give a promise that you will make no -attempt on your own life nor that of any other person," De Vaudreville -said.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prince shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the pistols and knife -in the other's hands; then he said, "I promise. What more?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your Highness," said the duke, "will be conducted to Vincennes -to-night. De Chatelet has received orders to prepare a room for you. -To-morrow you will set out upon your journey. But, for the present, -again I ask your Highness to pardon me," and he faltered as he -continued, "it is necessary for the greater security that you should -be bound."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bound!" the Prince exclaimed, and now he turned white as death. -"Bound! I! The Prince of Wales!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! sire," said the duke, "it is the King's orders. Yet, I pledge -you my word as a peer of France, such orders are issued solely out of -regard to your Highness's person, and to prevent you making any -attempt on that person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall make no attempt," Charles Edward replied. "But I am unused to -such proceedings as these. And I do not even say whether they are -justifiable or not; the disgrace does not affect me, but your master -alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he was speaking, De Vaudreville continued to bind him, using -crimson cord of a similar nature to that which formed the barrier -outside, and at last both his legs and arms were securely tied, when -the unhappy Prince lost his calmness, and, looking down on De -Vaudreville with a glance that has been described as "menacing and -terrible," exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you not enough now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," replied the other, "though it is nearly ended."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, indeed, nearly ended, since the Prince's body was now so -swathed with the cords that it would have been impossible for more to -be placed round it or his limbs, and, looking at the duke with still -his sad smile upon his face, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope, monsieur, no other Englishman will ever be treated thus. They -are not made for such a purpose;" after which he asked what was to be -done next.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Vincennes next," replied De Biron, with a low bow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My horses are fatigued," the Prince said; "they cannot travel so far -and back to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," the duke answered. "A coach has been secured."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now they prepared to lift the unhappy descendant of a family of -kings, the last descendant who ever made a bid or struck a blow for -all that his ancestors had lost--since his brother the cardinal, -Henry, Duke of York, was a mere shadow of a Stuart--and to carry him -to the hired coach that waited without. But Bertie, who had been a -furious witness of this insult to him whom, rightly or wrongly, he -deemed--in agreement with three fourths of his country people and -perhaps one half of the English--to be the rightful heir to the -English throne, could not part thus from him. As he saw him tied and -bound, there arose before him once more the memory of the bright young -chieftain with whom he had embarked at Port St. Lazare, with whom he -had landed in Lochaber, and before whom the old Marquis of -Tullibardine had unfurled at Glenfinnan his white, blue, and red silk -standard, with, on it, the proud and happy motto, "<i>Tandem -Triumphans</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">Also before his eyes there rose the progress through Scotland, the -joyous welcome at Edinburgh, the victory at Prestonpans, the surrender -at Carlisle, the glorious march to and arrival at Derby, with the news -which succeeded that arrival, to the effect that the German King was -trembling for fear at St. James's, and all London mad with terror. And -then Culloden!--that bitter day, when, as Cumberland's butchers hacked -and shot the wounded and the dying, Charles urged on the living to -avenge their comrades, and was at last forced off the field against -his will, his face bespattered with the dirt thrown up by the cannon -balls that fell around him.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now to see him thus!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, sir," he cried, flinging himself at the Prince's feet, "let me go -with you wherever the King of France may see fit to send you. Give me -but leave to see her I love, to tell her that once more I have -returned to her, and then let me follow you, as is my duty and desire, -wherever you go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not only Charles Edward who was affected by this manly speech; -even De Biron, who understood English well, and De Vaudreville, who -did not, but evidently guessed accurately what he had said, were -touched by it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Elphinston, no," the Prince replied. "As I said but now, the day -is past for services to be rendered to me or my cause. That cause is -lost; this is the last blow. When France joins hands with England, how -can a Stuart hope? Farewell, Captain Elphinston; she whom you love--I -know all!--will recover yet, ill as she is, I hope. I pray to God that -He may bless you both. Farewell! we shall never meet again--never -again! Yet, remember, I beseech you, when you hear my name mentioned, -that we fought side by side once--that we were comrades--and--and--so, -try to think well of me."</p> - -<p class="normal">They bore him away after this, scarce giving Bertie time to kiss his -hand, and from that night they never did meet again. To the Prince -there were still to be forty years of life accorded; what that life -became, with every hope shattered and every desire unaccomplished, the -world well knows.</p> - -<p class="normal">Between them the grenadiers and De Vaudreville carried him to the hired -coach--for owing to his silken fetters he was unable to walk--and put -him into it at the spot where it waited, behind the kitchens. And -Bertie, following like a faithful dog who perceives its master -departing, thus saw the last of him and received his last look. De -Vaudreville, he observed, sat by him; two captains of the musketeers -entered the coach and sat opposite to him; two other officers rode on -each side of the vehicle, with a hand upon the door; six grenadiers -with fixed bayonets mounted behind like footmen, and the rest of the -soldiers accompanied them on foot.<a name="div4Ref_E" href="#div4_E"><sup>[Note E]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">Thus the last but one of the Stuarts left Paris; thus the last -hospitality and favour of France were withdrawn from the -representative of the unhappy family whose cause France had so long -espoused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," said Bertie to himself, as with a final courteous bow the -Duc de Biron entered his own gorgeous carriage and departed to give an -account of the proceedings to Louis--"and now for her whom I have -pined for so long! God grant that the report of her ill-health may be -exaggerated! If I lose her, I have nothing more to live for!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"LOVE STRONG AS DEATH!"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Neither the Duc de Biron nor De Vaudreville had thought it necessary -to place any of their soldiery or police within the mansion--perhaps -because the person they required was himself outside it--and, -consequently, there was nothing to prevent Bertie from making his way -from the hall to the upper regions where he naturally supposed Kate -would be--nothing, that is to say, beyond a few terrified-looking -menservants, who, on perceiving him mount the stairs, retreated before -him, probably imagining that he had been left in possession of the -place by those who had taken away their master. They were quickly, -however, undeceived by the stranger calling to them to ask who was now -in charge of the establishment, and to whom he should address himself -with a view to finding Lady Fordingbridge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Fordingbridge," one of the footmen replied, answering him in -French, as he had spoken, though his accent showed plainly enough that -he was a Scotchman--"Lady Fordingbridge! She sees no one; she is very -ill. She is, indeed----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" interrupted Bertie, in so sad a voice that even the man -refrained from concluding his speech, which he had intended to do with -the words, "dying, they say."</p> - -<p class="normal">But here a lady who had been descending the stairs from above, and now -reached the corridor on the first floor at the same time that -Elphinston did, came forward and said, as she motioned the servants -back:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed Captain Elphinston! Oh, why not have come sooner, and -why, of all nights, be so unhappy as to select this one? Captain -Elphinston, your disappearance has very nearly brought Lady -Fordingbridge to her grave--that, and the tragic death of her -husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She knows that, then?" he asked, as he recognised the lady who spoke -to him, she being the wife of Lord Ogilvie, whose title at that time -was forfeited in England, though afterward restored--"she knows that, -then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, she knows it," Lady Ogilvie replied.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does she also know the reason of it--of why he was led forth to -execution on the Place de Grève?" Bertie next demanded. He himself -knew it now; his mother, whom he found still alive and well, though -terribly prostrated by the two years and more of anxiety which she had -endured since his disappearance, having told him all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," her ladyship replied, "that she does not know. We have never -told her. Rather we have let her suppose that he was about to be -executed for some political crime. We could not tell her how base he -was. Yet," she went on, "it seems that you and he met in prison--that -you forgave him. Did you forgive him <i>that?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied Bertie, "I knew not what he had done, and only saw that -his mind was gone. And, not knowing, I forgave. Now, Lady Ogilvie, I -beseech you let me go to her!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," she replied, "I must warn her that you are here. She is very -ill; she cannot bear a shock."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she as ill as that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is very weak and feeble. Perhaps now you have appeared again, -come back almost from the very jaws of death, she may recover. Let us -pray she will!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then she left him alone, saying she would soon return.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agonizing as had been the long hours, weeks, months that he had spent -alone in the chapel-room of the Bastille, and nearly as much alone in -the <i>calotte</i> with De Chevagny, when, both heartbroken, they had -sometimes scarcely exchanged a word for days, none had seemed more -bitter, more unendurable, than the few minutes during which Lady -Ogilvie was absent. For everything that he had gathered as to the -state of Kate's health, since he had emerged into the world once more, -pointed only too plainly to the fact that he had but found her again -to again lose her, and to lose her this time beyond all hopes of -recovery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," said Lady Ogilvie, returning to him--"come; she is now -expecting you. I have prepared her. Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">He followed her up the great stairs to the second floor, and there his -companion opened the door and ushered him into a large, well-warmed -and lighted room, and then left them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Seated before the great fire, yet with her face turned eagerly towards -the door as though watching for him, he saw her once again--saw the -woman he had loved so long, the woman whom Fate had parted him from. -She was thin, now, almost to attenuation--she, whose supple, graceful -figure had once been one of her greatest charms--so thin that she -looked more like a child that was unwell than a grown woman, and on -her face there were no roses now.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kate," he exclaimed, advancing swiftly to her as she held out her -thin worn arms to him, and falling on his knee beside her--"Kate, my -darling, I have come back at last; am free once more! Kate, nothing -can part us now."</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer she let her head droop to his shoulder and lie there. It -seemed to her that at last perfect peace had come, that all the black -and dreadful past was gone and done with for ever; then she whispered: -"Nothing part us! Oh, my dear, my love, there is one parting more only -to be made; then--then--we shall meet to never part again. Bertie, you -have come in time, yet too late--too late for this world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," he said, "it shall not be! Kate, do not leave me now. Think, -think, my darling, of how long we have waited, of all that has -separated us so long, and that now there is no longer any barrier -between us. Think of the dreary months in prison, months that I -counted day by day, hoping, praying ever to get free and come back to -you; think how brave you have been, always waiting for me. O Kate, my -sweet, do not go and leave me now alone!" and as he spoke he wept, and -buried his head upon her lap.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," she said, stroking his head and noticing how grey and grizzled -it was now, though he was still so young a man--"nay, do not weep, -Bertie. You are too strong to shed tears, too strong and brave. It was -your strength and manhood I loved so much, was so proud of. Do not -weep now; for it is best, Bertie, best so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Best!" he answered almost fiercely, and raising his head as he did -so, while she with one wan hand put back softly from his forehead the -brown locks flecked with grey. "Best! How can it be best; how, how? O -Kate, think, think of all our hopes formed so long ago, the hopes of -happy years to come to be passed together!--the hopes that we should -grow old together, and then, together at the end, share one calm and -peaceful grave. My darling, those years are still before us; I cannot -lose you now. Stay, stay with me! Remember all our plans formed in the -days of the Rue Trousse Vache, the days when we wandered forth hand in -hand together. Oh, stay with me, my darling, stay!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It appeared as if the rose-blush came back into her cheeks at his -whispered prayer, as if a new life was dawning for her again. Then she -murmured:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear, it seems as though I must not leave you now. Bertie, I -will stay with you, if I may--if God will let me!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">APPENDIX.</a></h4> -<br> - -<h4><a name="div4_A" href="#div4Ref_A">NOTE A</a>. <i>The Reward offered by Charles Edward</i>.</h4> - -<p class="normal">"Whereas we have seen a certain scandalous and malicious paper, -published in the stile and form of a proclamation, bearing date the -1st instant, wherein, under pretence of bringing us to justice, like -our royal ancestor King Charles I of blessed memory, there is a reward -of thirty thousand pounds sterling, promised to those who shall -deliver us into the hands of our enemies, we could not but be moved -with a just indignation at so insolent an attempt. And though from our -nature and principles we abhor and detest a practice so unusual among -Christian princes, we cannot but out of a just regard to the dignity -of our person, promise the like reward of thirty thousand pounds -sterling, to him or those who shall seize and secure, till our further -orders, the person of the Elector of Hanover, whether landed, or -attempting to land, in any part of his Majesty's dominions. Should any -fatal accident happen from hence, let the blame lie entirely at the -door of those who first set the infamous example.</p> -<p class="right" style="margin-top:-15pt"><span class="sc">Charles, P. R.</span></p> - -<p class="normal">"Given in our camp at Kinlocheill, August the 22nd, 1745.</p> - -<p style="text-indent:20%"> -"By His Highness's command. <span class="sc">Jo Murray</span>."</p> - -<p class="normal"><i>Headed</i>.--Charles, Prince of Wales, etc., Regent of the Kingdom of -Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, and the dominions thereunto -belonging.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div4_B" href="#div4Ref_B">NOTE B</a>. <i>Jesuit Priests in England</i>.</h4> - -<p class="normal">A long proclamation was issued, headed "George R.," and dated December -6, 1745, which, after threatening all kinds of penalties against those -who knew of Jesuit priests being in England, or those who harboured -them, continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"We, for the better discovering and apprehending of such Jesuit and -Popish priests, do by this our royal proclamation, by and with the -advice of our Privy Council, strictly charge and command all our -judges, justices of the peace, magistrates, officers, and other our -loyal subjects, that they do use their utmost care and endeavour to -discover, apprehend, and bring to trial, all Jesuit and Popish -priests, except such Popish priests, not being our natural born -subjects, as, by the law of this our realm, are permitted to attend -foreign ministers." A reward of one hundred pounds for every such -priest was offered.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div4_C" href="#div4Ref_C">NOTE C</a>. <i>The Duke of Cumberland's Vengeance after Culloden</i>.</h4> - -<p class="normal">Extract from a letter written by an officer in the King's army:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The moor was covered with blood, and our men, what with killing the -enemy, dabbling their feet in the blood, and splashing it about one -another, looked like so many butchers."</p> - -<p class="normal">A gentleman named George Charles, who wrote an accurate history of the -rebellion, also says: "Vast numbers of the common people's houses or -huts were likewise laid in ashes; all the cattle, sheep, and goats -were carried off; and several poor people, especially women and -children, were found dead on the hills, supposed to be starved. Even -places of worship were not exempt from the ravages of the unprincipled -soldiery; several mass-houses about Strathbogie were pulled down by -them; some non-jurant Episcopal meetinghouses were likewise burnt and -destroyed, and they were generally shut up all over the kingdom. The -commander-in-chief was at this time amusing himself and his staff with -foot and horse races."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div4_D" href="#div4Ref_D">NOTE D</a>. <i>The Bastille</i>.</h4> - -<p class="normal">In presenting the Bastille to the readers of these pages exactly as it -was according to every authority on the subject--although in -considerable opposition to the usually accepted and melodramatic and -transpontine ideas on the fortress--I do not feel that I have robbed -Romance of any of her charms. The true Bastille offers the fictionist -quite as much opportunity for his powers as the fusty, tawdry thing -which, under its name, has heretofore done duty in its place.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Bastille was never the place of indescribable horrors which -fictionists and dramatists have contrived--"out of their own heads," -as the children say--to represent it; indeed, I may truthfully assert -that I have never read a description yet of the place in fiction, nor -seen a representation of the place in drama, which could by any -possibility have approached very near accuracy. And this is the more -extraordinary, because there are something like forty authorities who -may be referred to on the subject, including among them such men as -the Duc de Richelieu and Voltaire, both of whom had in their time been -prisoners in it.</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, the Bastille was more a house of detention than anything -else, and in many cases was regarded as a shelter or harbour of refuge -from outside storms. Instances are frequent of men petitioning to be -sent there to escape their enemies, and of others refusing to come out -and be forced to meet their enemies. Moreover, if a young man of -fashion contracted debts or low amours, or gambled, or was too -intimate with undesirable women--as was the case with the Duc -d'Estrées, the Duc de Mortemart, the Comte d'Harcourt, and -others--nothing was more common than for his father to pack him off to -the Bastille, accompanied by his tutor and his valet. Also, the -Bastille was often regarded by the Parisians as a suitable object for -poking fun at. Voltaire, after having been incarcerated there for -objecting to being thrashed by the Chevalier de Rohan for being a -poet, told Louis XV, when he promised to provide for him, that "he -trusted his Majesty's provision would not again include board and -lodging." Another poet, referring to the moat round the fortress, -delivered himself of the lines:</p> -<div style="margin-left:15%"> - -<p>Que vois-je dans ce marécage<br> - Digne de curiosité,<br> - Se tenir sur sa gravité<br> -En citadel de village?<br> -A quoi sert ce vieux mur dans l'eau?<br> -Est-ce un aqueduc, un caveau?<br> -Est-ce un reservoir de grenouilles?</p> - -</div> -<p class="continue">And Langlet du Frosnoy (an abbé and a most prolific writer, who passed -half his life in various prisons, and died at eighty by tumbling into -the fire while reading a book) used to take his papers, his snuff, and -his nightgown off to the Bastille when rearrested, and calmly go on -with his work there on being once more locked up. As regards the -surrender of the Bastille (for, as Marmontel truthfully says, it was -only threatened with siege and never really besieged) in 1789, and the -release of the "unhappy prisoners," it may be mentioned that there -were but seven of them there, and that one was an imbecile Englishman -named Whyte, whose friends had had him shut up to keep him out of -harm's way. Four of the others were common forgers awaiting trial; -the sixth was the Comte de Solages, detained at the request of his -family and on their paying his expenses; and the seventh was -Tavernier, a man who had conspired against the late King. No record of -torture being practised in the Bastille--after the middle ages--can be -found; while, as for food, the Kings allowed so fair a sum to each -prisoner--generally one hundred sols, or five francs, a day--that -often the latter petitioned that, instead of so many meals, they might -be allowed some of the money for other things. In the case of a prince -of the blood, fifty livres a day were allowed; for the Cardinal de -Rohan one hundred and twenty were granted. Discipline had, however, to -be maintained, and where the "guests" were too obstreperous they were -sometimes confined alone in dark, solitary cells, instead of being in -rooms with others for companions. Latude, who has been regarded as a -martyr, was frequently punished for swearing, roaring so that people -outside could hear him, and "playing the devil," to use the words of -the officials; yet he was allowed tobacco, seeds for the birds he was -permitted to keep, new clothes when he asked for them, fur gloves to -keep his hands warm, and almost whatever food he desired. Allègre, who -escaped from the Bastille with him and was retaken, was also a -troublesome man; he broke all the windows, china, and pottery in his -room daily, and tore up his mattresses and shirts, "which cost the -King twenty francs each," and his pocket-handkerchiefs. He died mad at -last at Charenton, did not know Latude, who went to see him, and told -everyone that he was God.</p> - -<p class="normal">The instrument of torture found in the Bastille on its fall turned -out, when regarded by intelligent people, to be a small printing press -left behind by one François Lenormand, who had been permitted to have -it in his room for occupation; also a billiard table was discovered -which was provided, the year before the Bastille surrendered, for the -amusement of the "prisoners"! The "awful cells" which have furnished -so much matter for powerful writing, were "the ice houses" in which -wine, meat, and fish were stored. In truth, the "King's furnished -apartments" seem to have been far from unpleasant abode to many, as -the Abbé de Mehégan acknowledged when his mother implored the King to -keep him there as long as possible, because he was so dissolute and -extravagant and such a terror to all the girls in his parish.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of course, in the days of Louis XIV and Louis XV some prisoners were -detained for long periods, and one there was who was detained the same -length of time--forty-four years--as I have accorded to De Chevagny. -Falmy's case was also possible in Louis XV's reign. But in Louis XVI's -first year the Bastille was cleared of all but Tavernier and some -others whose trial was close at hand, and even the revolutionists -acknowledged that no "court" victim had been incarcerated during that -unhappy King's reign. The last man to enter the Bastille was one -Reveillon, a furniture dealer, and he did so at his own request, and -with a demand for the rights of "sanctuary," as his fellow-workmen -were destroying his house in the Faubourg St. Antoine because he had -used defamatory language against <i>them!</i> and he was afraid for his -life.</p> - -<p class="normal">Terrible, therefore, as the Bastille was, as a place in which one -might be detained for an indefinite period, it was not what it has -hitherto been represented; yet, as I have said, it formed a -sufficiently gloomy abode in which to secrete such characters as -Bertie Elphinston and Fordingbridge when such secretion was rendered -necessary in the interests of my narrative.</p> - -<p class="normal">The descriptions of the Bastille have been gathered by me from the -accounts of the spy, Constantin de Renneville, who was a prisoner for -eleven years, and who, when released, went to London, and was there -assassinated by an unknown hand; of the adventurer, Jean Louis Carra, -who, after writing odes of praise upon the fall of the Bastille, -perished at the hands of the republicans; of the Duc de Richelieu, -who, when a very old man of ninety, could not resist visiting the -place where he had been three times confined when a very young one; -and of Voltaire, who had had considerable experience of its -hospitality, having been sent there twice; and of many other authors -of the past and present.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div4_E" href="#div4Ref_E">NOTE E</a>. <i>Arrest of Charles Edward</i>.</h4> - -<p class="normal">The arrest of Charles Edward took place under precisely similar -circumstances to those which I have described, with one exception, -namely, that it was carried out on his quitting the opera house in the -Palais Royal instead of outside his own house on the Quai des -Théatins, and it was from behind the <i>kitchen</i> of the Palais Royal -that he was taken away in a hired cab. I have transposed the arrest to -the latter spot to suit the requirements of the story. The Duc de -Biron took part in it, against his will, in the capacity of -colonel-in-chief of the guards. He was the least celebrated of the -many Ducs de Biron, of whom a French writer said "all were celebrated -and some notorious."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: "<i>Tandem -triumphans</i>" was the motto emblazoned on Charles -Edward's banner during the march into England. "<i>Nunquam triumphans</i>" -was afterwards a password between Jacobites.</p> - - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: The -remarkable name of one of the royal yachts of George -II.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: -Inaugurated 1724.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: At this -period most of the houses in Kensington-square -had large gardens at the back. Those on the west side, where I -Fordingbridge's is supposed to be situated, covered what known as -Scarsdale-place.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_05" href="#div4Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: A -tipstaff, or executor of warrants for the Government.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_06" href="#div4Ref_06">Footnote 6</a>: Governor -of the Bastille from 1718 to 1749, and father of -the last governor of that prison, Le Marquis Bernard Réné Jourdan de -Launey, who was brutally murdered by the populace on the fall of the -Bastille in 1789.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_07" href="#div4Ref_07">Footnote 7</a>: Latude's -successful escape was made some years after the -date of this narrative--viz., in 1750.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_08" href="#div4Ref_08">Footnote 8</a>: As -happened the next year, by the Treaty of -Aix-la-Chapelle.</p> - - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_09" href="#div4Ref_09">Footnote 9</a>: The -ballets in which the French kings, and Louis XIV in -particular, frequently danced, were more in the style of a minuet than -anything else. There is a picture in the Luxembourg of one being -performed, with Louis taking part in it and representing <i>Le -Printemps</i>.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_10" href="#div4Ref_10">Footnote 10</a>: A -derisive name sometimes applied to the Bastille, -especially by the lower classes in Paris.</p> - -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Denounced, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DENOUNCED *** - -***** This file should be named 52733-h.htm or 52733-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/7/3/52733/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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