diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/60253-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60253-8.txt | 14637 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 14637 deletions
diff --git a/old/60253-8.txt b/old/60253-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8e3ef46..0000000 --- a/old/60253-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14637 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Noble Rogue, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy - -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: The Noble Rogue - -Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy - -Release Date: September 7, 2019 [EBook #60253] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NOBLE ROGUE *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, the Harvard University and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by - =equal signs=. - - Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase. - - Blank pages have been eliminated. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the - original. - - - - -BY BARONESS ORCZY - - -"UNTO CAESAR" - -EL DORADO - -THE HEART OF A WOMAN - -MEADOWSWEET - -THE NOBLE ROGUE - -PETTICOAT RULE - - -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - -NEW YORK - - - - - THE POCKET BOOKS - - - THE NOBLE ROGUE - - - _By_ BARONESS ORCZY - - Author of "The Scarlet Pimpernel," - "The Noble Rogue," "Petticoat Rule" - - - GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - NEW YORK - - - Copyright, 1912, - By George H. Doran Company - - - - - THE NOBLE ROGUE - - - - - PART I - - - - - CHAPTER I - - - This act is an ancient tale new told. - --SHAKESPEARE. - - -M. Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty Louis XIV and to the Court -of Paris and Versailles, bowed himself out of the room; with back bent -nearly double, and knees trembling in the effort, he receded towards -the door even whilst Monseigneur the Archbishop spoke a final and -encouraging benediction. - -"Have no fear, my good Monsieur Legros," pronounced Monseigneur with -urbane kindness; "your affairs shall come under the special notice of -the Holy Father. Be of good cheer, right and justice are on your side. -Solemn vows cannot be flouted even in these days of godlessness. Go in -peace, my son; you are dismissed." - -"And if the Holy Father--hem--I mean if Monseigneur would take -cognizance of the fact--hem--that I will place--" stammered M. Legros -with some confusion. "I mean, Monseigneur--that is--I am a man of -substance--and if the sum of fifty thousand francs--or--or a hundred -thousand--" - -"Nay, my son, what would you suggest?" quoth Monseigneur with a slight -lifting of elegantly-arched brows. "The thought of money doth not enter -into the decrees of the Holy Father." - -"I know--I know, Monseigneur," said M. Legros with ever-growing -confusion. "I only thought--" - -"An you thought, my son, of pleasing God by the bestowal of alms in -these days of licentiousness and of evil luxury, then by all means -do so in accordance with your substance--I will see to the proper -distribution of those alms, good Master Legros--the two hundred -thousand francs you speak of shall be worthily bestowed, our promise -thereon." - -M. Legros did not think of protesting. The sum mentioned by Monseigneur -was a heavy one in these days, when the working and trading classes -had but little left for their own pleasures once the tax collector had -passed their way. But the worthy tailor had made no idle boast when he -said that he was a man of substance; he was well able to pay a goodly -sum for the gratification of his most cherished desire. - -He received his final congé almost on his knees, then he disappeared -through the doorway. Lacqueys to the right of him, lacqueys to the -left of him, lacqueys all the way along the carpeted stairs down to -the massive front door, formed a living avenue through which M. Legros -now passed with his back not yet fully straightened out after its many -humble curvatures. - -Soon he reached the narrow, ill-ventilated street on which gave the -great gates of Monseigneur the Archbishop's palace. Instinctively M. -Legros gave a deep sigh of content and relief, inhaling the fresh -autumnal air which could not altogether be excluded even from these -close purlieus where roof almost met roof overhead, and evil-smelling -gutters overflowed along the roughly-constructed pavements. - -The good master tailor had succeeded passing well in his momentous -errand. Monseigneur had been overgracious, and two hundred thousand -francs was after all only a small sum to come out of Rose Marie's ample -marriage portion. M. Legros now walked with a brisk step along the -right bank of the Seine, then crossing the Pont Neuf he found himself -near the Châtelet prison, and thence by narrow by-paths at his own -front door in the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie. - -Here he gave a sharp rap with the polished brass knocker, and within -a very few seconds the door was opened and an anxious feminine voice -hailed him from out the darkness of the narrow passage. - -"Eh bien?--Monseigneur?--What did he say?" - -M. Legros closed the door behind him with great deliberation, then he -turned, stretched out both arms and, catching the speaker round the -shoulders, imprinted two well-sounding kisses on a pair of fresh young -cheeks. - -"He says," said the worthy bonhomme gaily, "that Rose Marie, the -fairest maid in France, shall be called Countess of Stowmaries before -the year is out, for right and justice and indissoluble marriage vows -are all on her side." - -A little gasp--which sounded almost like a hysterical sob--broke from -the woman's throat. It seemed as if the news--evidently very anxiously -expected--was overwhelmingly good. There was silence in the little -passage for a moment, then the fresh voice, now quite cheerful and -steady, said lightly: - -"Let us go and tell maman!" - -Together father and daughter went up the steep, slightly-winding stair -which led to an upper story. Rose Marie, silent once more, felt as if -her young heart would presently burst through her corselet, so rapidly -did it beat with excitement and anticipation. - -She followed her father into the large, cheerful-looking room which -gave on the first landing. Here a bright fire blazed in an open hearth; -blue cotton curtains hung on each side of the single, narrow window, -through which the last rays of this October day struggled faintly. - -A large iron stewpot, from which escaped a jet of savoury-smelling -steam, stood invitingly upon the hob, and beside the hearth, wooden -spoon in hand, her ample proportions carefully draped in a thick -brown linen apron, stood Mme. Legros herself, the wife of one of the -wealthiest men in the whole of Paris. - -"Eh bien! Legros, 'tis good news then?" she asked with cheerful -optimism, whilst a benevolent smile shone all over her round face, red -as an Eydam cheese and quite as shiny and greasy, for Madame had been -cooking and she was mightily hot. - -"The best, Maman," came in hilarious accents from her husband; "our -daughter shall be installed in her English castle before many moons are -over. The Holy Father himself will interfere, and this--this--milor -Stowmaries will have to obey at once--failing which 'twill be -excommunication and nothing less than that." - -M. Legros had thrown himself into the tall-backed chair, black with age -and the smoke from many a previous stewpot, and had stretched out his -legs before him, in order that his dutiful daughter Rose Marie might -the more easily divest him of his high out-door boots. - -Kneeling before her father, she performed this little service for -him with all the grace of loving girlhood, and he cocked his cropped -head on one side and looked down at her with eyes in which merriment -struggled with happy tears. - -She was so good to look at as she knelt thus on one knee, her fair -hair--touched with the gold of the sun of her native Provence--falling -in thick ringlets round her young face. She was so girlish and so pure, -fresh as the hawthorn in May, and withal luscious to behold like a -ripening fruit in June. - -"Nay! nay!" said M. Legros with mock gravity, as he put his now -stockinged feet to the ground and rose with a great show of ceremony; -"this is no place for Madame la Comtesse of Stowmaries. She must not -kneel at any man's feet, not even at those of her fond old father. Come -to my arms, my girl," he added, once more resuming his seat, his voice -breaking in the vain endeavour to seem flippant; "sit here on my knee. -Maman, for the Lord's sake put down that spoon, and sit down like a -Christian and I'll tell you both all that Monseigneur said to me." - -With a happy little sigh Rose Marie jumped to her feet. Obviously -her young heart was still too full for speech. She had said nothing, -practically, since her first greeting to her father, since she had -heard from him the good news--the confirmation of her hopes. - -Her cheeks were glowing until they quite ached with the throbbing of -the veins beneath the delicate skin, and the palms of her hands felt -cold and damp with suppressed nervousness and excitement. - -Obedient to her father's call, she came close to him and perched -herself on his knee, whilst his arm sought her slender waist and clung -to it with all the gentle firmness born of his fond paternal love, of -his pride in the beauty and grace of his child. - -Mme. Legros--somewhat reluctantly--had pulled the stewpot further -away from the fire, and put her wooden spoon aside. Then she sat down -opposite her lord and her daughter and said blandly: - -"I am listening." - -"Monseigneur was most affable," now began M. Legros, speaking with some -pride at the recollection of his late reception in the Archbishop's -palace, "but from the first he bade me to be brief, so as I had -rehearsed the whole scene in my mind over and over again, and knew -exactly what I wished to say to His Greatness, I was able to put our -case before him in the most direct, most straightforward way possible. -Now if you will listen very attentively and not interrupt me I will -tell you word for word just what passed between Monseigneur and myself." - -"Go on, Armand," said Madame; "I am burning with impatience and I'll -promise not to interrupt." - -As for Rose Marie, she said nothing, but from the expression in her -eyes, it was obvious that she would listen attentively. - -"Monseigneur sat at his desk and he was pleased to tell me to be -seated. Then he said: 'Commence, my son; I am all attention.' He fixed -his eyes upon me and I then began my narrative. 'My wife had a distant -relative,' I said, 'married to an officer in the army of the English -king. At a time of great pecuniary distress this fashionable lady -bethought herself of her connection with the humble tailor of Paris and -wrote to him an amiable letter suggesting a visit to his modest home.' -That was so, was it not, Maman?" he asked, turning for confirmation to -his buxom wife. - -"Exactly so, Armand," she replied in assent; "except that the -fashionable lady was at pains not to tell us that her husband was -in prison for debt over in England and that she herself was almost -destitute--and to think that I was such a simpleton as not to guess at -the truth when she arrived with her little boy, and he with his shoes -all in holes and--" - -"Easy--easy, Mélanie," rejoined M. Legros tartly. "Am I telling you my -adventures of this afternoon, or am I not?" - -"But of a truth thou art telling us, Armand," replied fat Mme. Legros -blandly. - -"Then I pray you to remember that I said I would not be interrupted, -else I shall lose the thread of my narration." - -"But thou didst ask me a question, Armand, and I did answer." - -"Then do not answer at such lengths, Mélanie," quoth the tailor -sententiously, "or I shall be an hour getting through my tale, and that -savoury stew yonder will be completely spoilt." - -Harmony being thus restored under threat of so terrible a contingency, -M. Legros now resumed his narrative. - -"I did tell Monseigneur," he said with reproachful emphasis, "that -at the time that Mistress Angélique Kestyon came on a visit to us in -company with her small son, then aged six and a half years, but without -nurse, serving or tiring woman of any kind, we were quite unaware of -the distressful position in which she was, and in which she had left -her lord and master over in England. I then explained to Monseigneur -how Mistress Kestyon seemed over-pleased with the grace and beauty -of our own child Rose Marie, who had just passed through her first -birthday. She would insist on calling the wench Rosemary, pronouncing -the name in an outlandish fashion, and saying that in England it stood -for remembrance. A pretty conceit enough, seeing that our Rose Marie -once seen would surely never be forgotten." - -And a vigorous pressure on Rose Marie's waist brought an additional -glow to the girl's bright eyes. - -"At this point," continued M. Legros, "it pleased Monseigneur to show -such marked interest in my story, that he appeared quite impatient -and said with a show of irritation--which could but be flattering to -me:--'Yes! yes! my son, but there is no need to give me all these -trifling details. I understand that you are rich, are of somewhat -humble calling, and have a daughter, and that the English lady was -poor, if high-born, and had a son. Ergo! the children were betrothed.' -Which, methinks showed vast penetration on the part of Monseigneur," -added the worthy bonhomme naïvely, "and gracious interest in my -affairs. Whereupon, warming to my narrative, I exclaimed: 'Not only -betrothed, Monseigneur, but married with the full rites and ceremonials -of our Holy Church as by law prescribed. My wife and I--so please -Your Greatness--thought of the child's future. It has pleased God to -bless my work and to endow me with vast wealth which in the course of -time will all pass to our Rose Marie. But here in France, the great -gentlemen would always look askance at the daughter of the man who made -their coats and breeches; not so in England where trade, they say, is -held in high esteem, and in order that our child should one day be as -great a lady as any one in the land and as noble as she is beautiful, -we wedded her to a high and mighty well-born English gentleman, who -was own great nephew to one of the most illustrious noblemen in that -fog-ridden country--the Earl of Stowmaries, so he is called over there, -Monseigneur!' and you may be sure," continued M. Legros, "that I -mentioned this fact with no small measure of pride." - -"Well, and what did His Greatness say to that?" queried Mme. Legros, -who would not curb her impatience, even for those few seconds whilst -her man paused in order to take breath. - -"Monseigneur did not seem over-pleased at seeing me display quite so -much pride in empty titles and meaningless earthly dignities," rejoined -M. Legros lightly. "His Greatness was pleased to rebuke me and to -inform me that he himself was well acquainted with the distinguished -English family who bears the name of Kestyon of Stowmaries. The -Kestyons are all good Catholics and Monseigneur thought that this fact -was of far greater importance than their worldly honours and their -ancient lineage, and should have weighed much more heavily with us, -Maman, when we chose a husband for our daughter." - -"We should not have given Rose Marie to a Protestant, Armand; you -should have told that to Monseigneur. No, not if he had been the King -of England himself," retorted Mme. Legros indignantly. - -"The King of England is as good a Catholic as any of us, so 'tis -said," commented M. Legros, "but this is a digression, and I pray -you, Mélanie, not to interrupt me again. I felt that His Greatness -had lapsed into a somewhat irritable mood against me, which no -doubt I fully deserved, more especially as Monseigneur did not then -know--but 'tis I am digressing now," resumed the good man after a -slight hesitation. "In less time than I can repeat it all, I had -told Monseigneur how directly after the marriage ceremony had been -performed, we found out how grossly we had been deceived, that le -Capitaine Kestyon, the husband of Mistress Angélique, had been in a -debtor's prison in London all the time that his wife was bragging to us -about his high position and his aristocratic connections; we heard that -the great Earl of Stowmaries not only refused to have anything to do -with his nephew, who was a noted rogue and evil-doer, but that he had a -son and three grandsons of his own, so that there were a goodly number -of direct inheritors to his great title and vast estates. All this and -more we heard after our darling child had been indissolubly tied to -the son of the best-known scoundrel in the whole of England, and who -moreover was penniless, deeply in debt, and spent the next ten years in -extracting our hard-earned money from out our pockets." - -The recollection of those same ten years seemed to have even now a -terrible effect on the temper of M. Legros. Indignation at the memories -his own last words evoked seemed momentarily to choke him. He pulled -a voluminous and highly-coloured handkerchief from the pocket of his -surcoat and moped his perspiring forehead, for choler had made him warm. - -Mme. Legros--equally indignant in retrospect but impatient to hear -Monseigneur's final pronouncement on the great subject--was nervously -rapping a devil's tattoo on the table. Rose Marie's fair head had -fallen forward on her breast. She had said nothing all along, but -sat on her father's knee, listening with all her ears, for was not -he talking about the people who would be her people henceforth, the -land which would be her land, the man who of a truth was her lord and -husband? But when Legros, with just indignation, recalled the deceits, -the shifts, the mean, mercenary actions of those whose name she would -bear through life, then the blush of excitement seemed to turn into -one of shame, and two heavy tears fell from her eyes onto her tightly -clasped hands. - -"Father, Father!" cried fat Mme. Legros in horror, "cannot you see that -you have made the child cry?" - -"Then heaven punish me for a blundering ass," exclaimed Legros, with -renewed cheerfulness. "Nay! nay! my little cabbage, there's naught -to cry for now; have I not said that all is well? Those ten years -are past and done with and eight more lie on the top of them--and -if Monseigneur showed some impatience both at my pride and at my -subsequent indignation, he was vastly interested, I can tell you that, -when he heard that the son and three grandsons of the great English -nobleman were by the will of God wrecked while pleasure-cruising -together off the coast of Spain and all four of them drowned, and that -the old lord himself did not long survive the terrible catastrophe, -which had swept four direct inheritors of his vast wealth and ancient -name off the face of the earth and into the sea. His Greatness -became quite excited--and vastly amiable to me: 'Ah!' he said, 'then -surely--you cannot mean--?' You see Monseigneur was so interested he -scarce could find his words. 'Yes, so please Your Greatness,' quoth -I with becoming dignity, 'the husband of our Rose Marie, the son of -the capitaine who in life had been nought but a rogue, has inherited -the title and the wealth of his great-uncle. He is now styled by the -English the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, Baron of Edbrooke and of -Saumaresque, and he has many other titles besides, and one of the -richest men in the whole of England!' 'Mais, comment donc!' exclaims -Monseigneur, most affably, and you'll both believe me, an you will, -but I give you my word that His Greatness took my hand and shook it, -so pleased did he seem with what I had told him. 'We must see the -lovely Comtesse of Stowmaries!--Eighteen years ago, did you say, my -son? and she was a baby then! The decrees of God are marvellous, of -a truth!--And your Rose Marie a great English lady now, eh?--with a -quantity of money and a great love for the Church!--By the Mass, my -son, we must arrange for a solemn Te Deum to be sung at St. Etienne, -before the beautiful comtesse leaves the sunny shores of France for -her fog-wrapped home across the sea!' Nay! but His Greatness said much -more than that. He spoke of the various forms which our thank-offering -might take, the donations which would be most acceptable to God on this -occasion; he mentioned the amount of money which would most adequately -express the full meed of our gratitude to Providence, by being given -to the Church, and I most solemnly assure you that he simply laughed -at the very thought of the Earl of Stowmaries contemplating the -non-fulfilment of his marriage vows. I pointed out to His Greatness -that the young man seemed inclined to repudiate the sacred bond. We -had not seen him since the ceremony eighteen years ago, and after our -final refusal to further help his parents with money or substance, we -had even ceased to correspond. His parents had gone to live in some -far, very far-off land across the ocean, where I believe cannibals and -such like folk do dwell. They had taken the boy with them, of course. -We thought the young man dead, or if alive then as great a rogue as his -father, and mourned that our only child was either a girl-widow, or -the wife of a reprobate. ''Tis eighteen years,' I said, 'since those -marriage vows were spoken.' 'Were they fifty,' retorted His Greatness, -'they would still be sacred. The Catholic Church would scorn to tie a -tie which caprice of man could tear asunder. Nay! nay!' he added with -sublime eloquence, 'have no fear on this matter, my son. Unless the -Earl of Stowmaries chooses to abjure the faith of his fathers, and -thereby cause his own eternal damnation, he cannot undo the knot which -by the will of his parents--he being a minor at the time--tied him -indissolubly to your daughter.' Thus spoke His Greatness, Monseigneur -the Archbishop of Paris," concluded M. Legros, with becoming solemnity, -"and in such words will the message be conveyed to the man who by all -laws human and divine is the husband of Rose Marie Dieudonnée Legros, -our only and dearly loved child." - -There was silence in the small room now. The fast-gathering twilight -had gradually softened all sharp outlines, covering every nook and -cranny with a mantle of gloom and leaving the dying embers of the fire -to throw a warm glow over the group of these homely folk: fat Mme. -Legros in cooking apron of coarse linen, her round, moist face pale -with excitement, the sleeves of her worsted gown rolled back over her -shapely arms; the kindly tailor with rubicund face gleaming with pride -and paternal love, one arm still encircling the cherished daughter -whose future had been mapped out by him on such glorious lines, and -she, the girl--a mere child, fair and slender, with great, innocent -eyes which mirrored the pure, naïve soul within, eyes which still -looked the outer world boldly in the face, which had learned neither -to shrink in terror, nor yet to waver in deceit, a child with rosy, -moist lips which had not yet tasted the sweet and bitter savour of a -passionate kiss. - -The silence became almost oppressive, for Mme. Legros dared not speak -again, lest she irritate the mightily clever man whom God had pleased -to give her as husband, and Rose Marie was silent because, unknown even -to herself, in the far-off land of Shadows, the Fates who sit and spin -the threads of life had taken in their grim and relentless hands the -first ravellings of her own. - -Vaguely now, for her ears were buzzing, she heard her father speak -again, talking of Monseigneur's graciousness, of the intervention of -the French ambassador at the Court of the King of England, of an appeal -to the Holy Father who would command that the great English milor -shall acknowledge as his sole and lawful wife, Rose Marie Legros, the -daughter of the Court tailor of Paris. - -It was so strange--almost uncanny, this intervention of great and -clever gentlemen, of Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris, whom hitherto -she had only seen at a great distance passing through the streets in -his glass coach or celebrating High Mass at the great altar in Notre -Dame, of the King of England, whom she had once seen at a pageant in -Versailles, actually talking to young King Louis himself, the greatest -man in the whole world and most wonderful of all, of the Holy Father, -second only on earth to le bon Dieu Himself--all, all of these great -and marvellous people troubling about her, Rose Marie. - -For the moment she could not bear to think of it all, and she supposed -that she must outwardly have looked as strange as she felt herself to -be from within, for maman suggested that the child was overwrought and -must go to her room, where presently she should partake of fricassée of -chicken and a glass of good red wine with a little clove and cinnamon -in it, the panacea, in good Mme. Legros' estimation, for every ailment -of body, mind or heart. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - True hope is swift, and flies with swallows' wings; - Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. - --RICHARD III. V. 2. - - -Rose Marie hardly knew how she reached the tiny room up under the -sloping roof, which room was her very own. - -She only realised that she longed to be alone to think matters out all -by herself, and then to indulge in a long and happy cry. - -Oh, yes! she was quite, quite sure that she was very happy, and that it -was because of this great happiness which filled her heart to bursting, -that she felt so very much inclined to cry. - -Presently maman came in with the red wine and the fricassée and was -horrified to find the child in tears. - -"My pigeon, my little cabbage, but what ails thee, my jewel?" -ejaculated the good old soul, as she hastily put down the platter and -bottle which she was carrying and went to kneel beside the narrow bed -in the wall, from the depths of which came ominous sounds of a girl -sobbing. - -"Nothing, Maman, nothing!" said Rose Marie, smiling at her mother's -anxiety and hastily endeavouring to dry her tears. - -"Nothing--nothing--" grumbled Mme. Legros, "one does not cry for -nothing, my child--" - -"And I am vastly silly, Maman, for doing it--but I assure you that it -is nothing--and--and--" - -The young voice broke in renewed sobs, and two arms were stretched -forth from out the bed and sought the mother's kindly shoulder, whereon -a strangely overburdened childish heart could sob itself out in perfect -peace. - -"There! there! my little cabbage," said Mme. Legros, trying with tender -pattings of the soft fair hair to soothe this well-nigh hysterical -outburst, "of a truth, thou hast been overwrought, and it was not right -for father to speak of all this before thee. Thou didst not know that -the young English lord had endeavoured to break his marriage vows, -and that thy father and I have been working hard in order to bring -influence to bear upon the rogue. Fortunately now we have succeeded, -with the help of Monseigneur, so there is no need to cry, my cabbage, -is there?" - -"No, no, Maman, it is not that," said the girl more quietly; "I cannot -quite explain to you what it is that made me cry--for I have known all -along that milor--now that he is a milor and passing rich--was anxious -to forget us humble folk, who helped his parents in their need--I -have felt the shame of that before now, and it never made me cry. But -to-day--somehow--Maman, darling," she added, sitting up quite straight -in bed and looking at her mother with enquiring eyes, whilst her fine -brow was puckered in a deep frown of thought, "somehow I feel--I cannot -quite explain how it is--I feel as if my old life was finished--quite, -quite finished--as if nothing would ever be quite the same again--my -little room here, the pink curtains, that chair over there--they do not -seem the same--not quite, quite the same--Maman, cherie, I suppose you -don't understand?" - -And the great childish eyes sought anxiously the mother's face, longing -for comprehension, for the explanation of an unaccountable mystery. - -"No, my pigeon, I confess I do not understand," quoth worthy Mme. -Legros drily, "for I do not see--nor would any sensible person -admit--that a great English milor just because he is thy husband--can -from all that distance, from the other side of the sea, change thy room -and thy chair, nor yet thy curtains, though the latter, I will say, -sorely need washing at the present moment," she added with sublime -irrelevance. - -The girl sighed. Maman for once did not understand. Nor of a truth -did she understand herself. She had tried to explain it all but had -signally failed--had only succeeded in suggesting something which of -course was supremely silly. - -"I'll tell thee how it is, Rose Marie," resumed Mme. Legros with firm -decision, "thy stomach is in a disturbed condition, and a cup of cold -camomile tea thou shalt drink to-morrow before rising. I'll see to the -making of it at once,--for it must be brewed over-night to be truly -efficacious,--and come back and give thee thy supper a little later on." - -Mme. Legros struggled back to her feet, happy to have found in a -prospective cup of camomile tea a happy solution for Rose Marie's -curious mood. She took up the platter again, for the fricassée must -be kept hot, and the child must eat some supper a little later on. -The good woman's heart was filled with that cheerful optimism which -persistently seeks the good side of every eventuality and nearly -always finds it. In this case Mme. Legros failed to see that anything -but good could come out of the present position. That same wonderful -optimism of hers had not been altogether proof against the events of -the past years, when she first began to realise that the marriage -which she--more so than her husband--had planned in conjunction -with Mistress Angélique Kestyon, was destined to prove a bar to her -daughter's happiness. - -In those far-off days eighteen years ago, Mme. Legros had still -fostered in her homely bosom the--since then--aborted seeds of social -ambition. Well-connected on her mother's side, with a good English -family, she had wedded the Paris tailor for pecuniary rather than -for sentimental reasons, and she had a sufficiency of sound common -sense to understand that as a tradesman's wife she could not in these -days of arbitrary class distinction aspire to remain within that same -social circle to which her connections and parentage would otherwise -have entitled her. But though the seeds of ambition lay dormant in the -homely soil of her husband's back shop, they were not then altogether -destroyed. - -Mélanie de Boutillier had been well past her youth when she married -Armand Legros; when her baby girl was born, and the mother with -justifiable pride realised that the child was passing fair, those -same seeds once more began to germinate. The visit of the English -relative--high-born, well-connected and accompanied by a boy not yet -seven years of age, brought them to final perfection. What Mélanie -de Boutillier had failed to obtain, Rose Marie Legros should possess -in measureless plenty, and little Rupert Kestyon, great nephew of an -English milor, should be the one to shower the golden gifts on her. - -All these schemes seemed at first so easy of accomplishment. It had -been useless afterwards to cry over undue haste; at the time it seemed -right, fitting and proper. Times then were troublous in England; -Mistress Angélique Kestyon feared the democratic spirit there. It -seems that the English were actually fighting against their king, and -that the fate of the great noblemen in the country was in consequence -somewhat uncertain; but only temporarily, of course, for King Charles -Stuart would soon overcome his enemies and duly crush the rebellious -traitors who had taken up arms against him. In the meanwhile the -children would grow up, and anon when the Court of England had resumed -its former splendour, Rupert Kestyon, the dearly-loved relative of the -powerful Earl of Stowmaries, would introduce his beautiful bride to the -charmed inner circle of English aristocracy. - -It all seemed so clear--so simple--as if, of a truth, the match and its -glorious consequences had been specially designed by Providence for the -glorification and social exaltation of Rose Marie Legros. Surely no -one in those days would have thought that any blame could be attached -to the parents for hurrying on the marriage ceremony between the two -children, whose united ages fell short of a decade. - -The catastrophe came afterwards when the tale of deceit and of fraud -was gradually unfolded. Then came the requests for money, the long -voyage to America, the knowledge that milor Stowmaries not only had -no love for these relatives of his, but had finally and irrevocably -refused to help them in their distress, unless they took ship for a far -distant colony and never troubled him with sight of their faces again. - -Good Armand Legros, who adored his daughter, was quite broken-hearted. -Madame tried to remain hopeful against these overwhelming odds--always -thinking that--though it had certainly pleased God to try the Legros -family very severely for the moment--something would inevitably turn up -which would be for the best. - -The immediate result of that unvarying optimism was that she continued -Rose Marie's education on the same lines as she had originally -intended, as if the girl-wife was indeed destined anon to grace the -Court of the King of England. The child was taught the English language -by one of the many impoverished English gentlemen who had settled in -France after the murder of their king. She learned to write and to -read, to spell and to dance. She was taught to play on the virginals -and to sing whilst playing a thorough-bass on the harpsichord. Nay! her -knowledge, so 'twas said, extended even as far as geography and the -Copernican system. - -Her mother kept her apart from girls of her own age, unless these -belonged to one of those few families where learning was esteemed. She -was never allowed to forget that some day she would leave her father's -shop and be a great lady in England. - -Whilst Mme. Legros and the kindly bonhomme Armand gradually drifted in -their middle age to the bourgeois manners and customs of their time -and station, they jealously fostered in their only child that sense of -elegance and refinement which mayhap she had inherited from one of her -remote ancestors, or mayhap had received as a special gift from the -fairy godmother who presided at her birth. - -Mme. Legros cooked and scoured, Master Armand made surcoats and -breeches, but Rose Marie was never allowed to spoil her hands with -scrubbing, or to waste her time presiding over the stewpot. Her father -had bought her a pair of gloves; these she always wore when she went -out, and she always had stockings and leather shoes on her feet. As -the girl grew up, she gradually assimilated to herself more and more -this idea that she was to be a great lady. She never doubted her future -for a moment. Her father from sheer fondness, her mother from positive -conviction, kept the certitude alive within her. - -But it became quite impossible to keep from the girl's growing -intelligence all knowledge of the Kestyon's misdeeds. The worthy -tailor who was passing rich kept but a very small house, in which the -one living room, situate just above the shop, was the family meeting -ground. Rose Marie could not be kept out of the room every time her -father and mother talked over the freshly-discovered deceits and frauds -practised by their new relations. - -We must suppose that the subject thus became such a familiar one with -the child-wife from the moment when she first began to comprehend it, -that it never acquired any horror or even shame for her. Mistress -Angélique Kestyon had grossly deceived papa and maman; they were not so -rich or so grand just now as they had represented themselves to be, but -it would all come right in the end--maman at least was quite sure of -that. - -If--as time went on and Rose Marie from a child became a girl--that -pleasing optimism somewhat gave way, this was no doubt due to too much -book learning. Rose Marie was very fond of books, and books we all know -have a tendency to destroy the innocent belief in the goodness of this -world. This at least was Papa Legros' opinion. - -Mme. Legros spoke less and less on the subject. She hoped. - -She hoped resolutely and persistently, whilst the Kestyons from distant -Virginia begged repeatedly for money. She went on hoping even whilst -urging her husband to cut off further supplies, after ten years of this -perpetual sponging. She still hoped whilst no news whatever came from -the emigrants and when the rumour reached her that young Rupert Kestyon -had died out there. - -At this point, however, her optimism took a fresh turn. She hoped that -the rumour was true, and that Rose Marie was now free to wed some -other equally high-born but more reliable gentleman. She continued to -hope despite the difficulty of proving that the young man had really -died, and Monseigneur the Archbishop's refusal to grant permission for -a second marriage. - -Then when the news filtered through from England as far as the back -shop in the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie that Rupert Kestyon was not -only alive but had--by a wonderful, almost miraculous series of -events--inherited the title and estates of his deceased kinsman and was -now of a truth by the will of God and the law of his country milor of -Stowmaries, and one of the greatest gentleman in the whole of England, -Mme. Legros' optimism found its crowning glory in its justification. - -That the young milor seemed disinclined to acknowledge the daughter of -the Paris tailor as his wife and that he seemed to be taking serious -steps to have the marriage annulled, were but trifling matters which -never upset Mme. Legros' equanimity. - -She was quite sure that the marriage could not be annulled without -special dispensation from the Holy Father himself, and equally sure -that that dispensation would never be granted. She had perfect faith -not only in the sacred indissolubility of the marriage tie, but in the -happy future of Rose Marie. - -When Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris granted her Armand a special -audience, whereat the tailor had begged permission to lay the family -case before His Greatness, Mme. Legros never for a moment doubted the -happy issue of that interview: and when her man came home and told his -satisfactory tale, maman was in no way astonished. - -Her optimism had been justified: that was all. - -But what did astonish the good soul was the fact that the child--Rose -Marie--sat crying in her bed, whereas she should have been singing and -laughing all about the place. - -Therefore, maman, with commendable forethought, prescribed cold -camomile tea as a remedy against what was obviously but a sharp attack -of megrims. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - Come Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain - And bring the fated Fairy Prince. - --TENNYSON. - - -And in the narrow bed built within the wall in the tiny room, wherein -a tallow candle placed on a central table threw only very feeble rays, -the girl Rose Marie lay dreaming. - -She--Rose Marie--the daughter of Papa Legros--as he was uniformly -called in the neighbourhood--she was now a great lady, by the will of -God and the decree of the Holy Father himself. She would have a glass -coach like the ladies whom she had so often seen driving about in -Versailles, and sit in it, dressed in the latest fashion and holding a -fan in her hand, which would be encased in a lace mitten. - -At this point in her dreams Rose Marie sat up in bed, very straight -and dignified, with her little hands folded over the cotton coverlet, -and she bent her young head to right and to left, like one saluting -a number of passers-by. A nod accompanied by an encouraging smile -indicated the greeting to a supposed friend, whilst a condescending -nod and a haughty stare suggested the presence of an acquaintance of -somewhat low degree. - -Thus Rose Marie had seen the ladies behave in their coaches in -Versailles. She had seen Maria Mancini bow serenely to her admirers, -and the Queen Mother bestow the stony stare on her detractors. She -had watched, wondered and admired, but never had she tried to imitate -until now--now that her smile would be appreciated by many, her frown -be of consequence to others. - -Up to now it had not mattered. Though her father was reputed to be -wealthy, he was only a tailor, who had to bow and scrape and wallow -before the great gentlemen of the Court. Aye! and had more than once -been soundly thrashed because of the misfit of a pair of Court breeches. - -And Rose Marie had oft sighed for greatness, for the gilded coach and -a seat at the opera, for silken dresses, flowers, patches and rouge. -She was only a child with an acutely developed sense of sympathy for -everything that was dainty and refined, everything that smelt sweetly -and was soft and tender to the touch. - -Thus she went on dreaming her dream in content, never doubting for a -moment that happiness lay closely linked with this sudden accession -to grandeur. The fact that her lawful lord and husband had shown a -desire to break his marriage vows, and to take unto himself some other -wife more equal to him in rank and breeding than the humble tailor's -daughter, troubled Rose Marie not at all. With sublime faith in the -workings of Providence, she put her husband's reluctance to acknowledge -her down to his ignorance of herself. - -He had never seen her since the day of the ceremony, eighteen years -ago. She was a baby in arms then, whilst now-- - -Rose Marie drew in her breath and listened. Maman was evidently not -yet coming up. All was still on this upper floor of the house. Rose -Marie put her feet to the ground and rose from her bed. She picked up -the candle from the table and tripped across the room to where--on the -whitewashed wall opposite--there hung a small gilt-framed mirror. - -Into this she peeped, holding the candle well above her head. Her face -wore neither the look of vanity, nor even that of satisfaction: rather -was it a look of the closest possible scrutiny. Rose Marie turned her -head to right and left again, but not--this time--in order to enact a -private comedy, but in order to convince herself in her own mind that -her cheeks had indeed that peach-like bloom, which her overfond father -had so oft proclaimed, and that her hair was sufficiently brilliant in -colour to be called golden, and yet not too vivid to be called "roux." - -We may take it that this scrutiny, which lasted nearly twenty minutes, -was of a satisfactory character, for presently, with a happy little -sigh, and heaving breast, Rose Marie tripped lightly back to her narrow -bed in the wall, and squeezed herself well within the further dark -angle, to which the flickering light of the tallow candle had no access. - -This she did because she had heard maman's step on the stairs, and -because her own cheeks now were of a flaming red. - - - - - PART II - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - For what is wedlock forced but a hell. - --1 HENRY VI. V. 5. - - -"My Lord is sad." - -"Oh!--" - -"My Lord is weary!" - -"!!--" - -A pause. Mistress Julia Peyton, you understand, was waxing impatient. -Can you wonder? She was not accustomed to moodiness on the part -of her courtiers; to a certain becoming diffidence mayhap, to -tongue-tiedness--if we may be allowed so to call it--on the part of her -young adorers fresh from their country homes, fledglings scarce free -from the gentle trammels of their mother's apron strings, to humility -in the presence of so much beauty, grace and wit as she was wont to -display when taken with the desire to please, to all that yes, yes and -a thousand times yes, the adorable Julia was fully accustomed. But to -silence on the part of the wittiest gentleman about town, to moodiness -akin to ill-humour on the part of the most gallant young rake this side -of Westminster--no! no! and a thousand times no! Mistress Julia would -have none of it. - -Her daintily-shod foot beat a quick measure against the carpets, her -fingers delicately tipped with rouge played a devil's tattoo on the -polished top of the tiny marqueterie table beside her, and her small -teeth, white and even as those of a kitten, tore impatiently at her -under lip. - -Still Lord Stowmaries paid no heed to these obvious signs of a coming -storm. He lolled in an armchair opposite the imperious beauty, his chin -was resting in his hand, his brow was puckered, and oh! most portentous -outward indication of troubles within! his cravat looked soiled and -crumpled, as if an angry hand had fidgeted its immaculate whiteness -away. - -At last Mistress Julia found herself quite unable to control her -annoyance any longer. Granted that Lord Stowmaries was the richest, -most promising "parti" that had ever come her way; that he was young, -good-looking, owned half the county of Hertford, and one of the oldest -names in England, and that, moreover, he was of sufficiently amiable -disposition to be fashioned into a model husband by and by! granted -all that, say I! Had not all these advantages, I pray you to admit, -caused the fair Julia to hide her ill-humour for close on half an hour, -whilst the young man frowned and sighed, gave curt answers to her most -charming sallies, and had failed to notice that a filmy handkerchief, -lace-edged and delicately perfumed, had been dropped on that veriest -exact spot of the carpet which was most conveniently situated for -sinking on one knee within a few inches of the most adorable foot in -London? - -But now the irascible beauty was at the end of her tether. She -rose--wrathfully kicking aside that same handkerchief which her surly -visitor had failed to notice--and took three quick steps in the -direction of the bell-pull. - -"And now, my lord," she said, "I pray you to excuse me." - -And she stretched out her hand in a gesture intended to express the -full measure of her wrath. - -Lord Stowmaries roused himself from his unpleasant torpor. - -"To excuse you, fair one?" he murmured in the tone of a man who has -just wakened from slumber, and is still unaware of what has been going -on around him whilst he slept. - -"Ay, my good lord," she replied with a shrill note of sarcasm very -apparent in the voice which so many men had compared to that of a -nightingale. "I fain must tear myself away from the delights of your -delectable company--though I confess 'twere passing easy to find more -entertaining talk than yours has been this last half-hour." - -"Would you be cruel to me now, Mistress?" he said with a deep and -mournful sigh, "now, when--" - -"Now, when what?" she retorted still pettishly, though a little -mollified by his obvious distress. - -She turned back towards him, and presently placed a hand on his -shoulder. - -"My lord," she said resolutely, "either you tell me now and at once -what ails you this afternoon, or I pray you leave me, for in your -present mood, by my faith, your room were more enjoyable than your -company." - -He took that pretty hand which still lingered on his shoulder, and -pressing it for a few lingering seconds between both his, he finally -conveyed its perfumed whiteness to his lips. - -"Don't send me away," he pleaded pathetically; "I am the most miserable -of mortals, and if you closed your doors against me now, you would be -sending your most faithful adorer straight to perdition." - -"Tut, man!" she rejoined impatiently, "you talk like a gaby. In the -name of Heaven, tell me what ails you, or I vow you'll send me into my -grave with choler." - -"I have been trying to tell you, Mistress, this past half-hour." - -"Well?" - -"But Lud help me, I cannot." - -"Then it's about a woman," she concluded with firm decision. - -He gave no reply. The conclusion was obvious. - -The fair Julia frowned. This was threatening to become serious. It was -no mere question of moodiness then, of ill-humour anon to be forgiven -and dissipated with a smile. - -There was a woman at the bottom of my lord Stowmaries' ill-humour. A -woman who had the power to obtrude her personality between his mental -vision and the daintiest apparition that had ever turned a man's brain -dizzy with delight. A woman in fact who might prove to be an obstacle -to the realisation of Mistress Julia Peyton's most cherished dreams. - -All thoughts of anger, of petulance, of bell-pulls and peremptory -congés fled from the beauty's mind. She sat down again opposite the -young man; she rested her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands; -she looked serious, sympathetic, interested, anything you like. A -sufficiency of moisture rose to her eyes to render them soft and -lustrous, appealing and irresistible. Her lips parted and quivered just -sufficiently to express deep emotion held courageously in check, whilst -from beneath the little lace cap one or two rebellious curls free from -powder, golden in colour, and silky in texture, were unaccountably -allowed to escape. - -Thus equipped for the coming struggle, she repeated her question, -not peremptorily this time, but gently and in a voice that trembled -slightly with the intensity of sympathy. - -"What ails my lord?" - -"Nothing short of despair," he replied, whilst his eyes rested with a -kind of mournful abnegation on the enchanting picture so tantalisingly -near to him. - -"Is it quite hopeless, then?" she asked. - -"Quite." - -"An entanglement?" - -"No. A marriage." - -Outwardly she made no sign. Mistress Julia was not one of those -simpering women who faint, or scream, or gasp at moments of mental -or moral crises. I will grant you that the colour left her cheek, -and that her fingers for one brief instant were tightly clutched--no -longer gracefully interlaced--under her chin. But this was in order to -suppress emotion, not to make a show of it. - -There was only a very momentary pause, the while she now, with -deliberate carelessness, brushed a rebellious curl back into its place. - -"A marriage, my good lord," she said lightly; "nay! you must be -jesting--or else mayhap I have misunderstood.--A marriage to render you -moody?--Whose marriage could that be?--" - -"Mine, Mistress--my marriage," exclaimed Lord Stowmaries, now in tones -of truly tragical despair; "curse the fate that brought it about, the -parents who willed it, the necessity which forced them to it, and which -hath wrecked my life." - -Mistress Julia now made no further attempt to hide her fears. Obviously -the young man was not jesting. The tone of true misery in his voice was -quite unmistakable. It was the suddenness of the blow which hurt her -so. This fall from the pinnacle of her golden dreams. For weeks and -months now she had never thought of herself in the future as other than -the Countess of Stowmaries, chatelaine of Maries Castle, the leader of -society both in London and in Newmarket, by virtue of her husband's -wealth and position, of her own beauty, tact and grace. - -She had even with meticulous care so reorganised her mind and memory, -that she could now eliminate from them all recollections of the more -humble past--the home at Norwich, the yeoman father, kindly but -absorbed in the daily struggle for existence, the busy, somewhat vulgar -mother, the sordid existence peculiar to impoverished smaller gentry; -then the early marriage with Squire Peyton. It had seemed brilliant -then, for the Squire, though past his youth, had a fine house, and -quite a few serving men--but no position--he never came to London and -Mistress Julia's knowledge of Court and society was akin to that which -children possess of fairies or of sprites. - -But Squire Peyton it appears had more money than he had owned to in -his lifetime. He had been something of a miser apparently, for even -his young widow was surprised when at his death--which occurred if you -remember some twenty-four months ago--she found herself possessed of -quite a pleasing fortune. - -This was the beginning of Mistress Julia's golden dreams, of her -longings towards a more brilliant future, which a lucky second marriage -could easily now secure for her. The thousand pounds a year which she -possessed enabled her to take a small house in Holborn Row, and to lay -herself out to cut a passable figure in London society. Not among the -Court set, of course, but there were all the young idlers about town, -glad enough to be presented to a young and attractive widow, endowed -with some wealth of her own, and an inordinate desire to please. - -The first few idlers soon attracted others, and gradually the pretty -widow's circle of acquaintances widened. If that circle was chiefly -composed of men, who shall blame the pretty widow? - -It was a husband she wanted, and not female companionship. Lord -Swannes, if you remember, paid her his court, also Sir Jeremiah -Harfleet, and it was well known that my lord of Craye--like the true -poet that he was--was consumed with love of her. But as soon as -Mistress Julia realised that richly-feathered birds were only too -willing to fly into her snares, she aimed for higher game. A golden -eagle was what she wanted to bring down. - -And was not the young Earl of Stowmaries the veritable prince of golden -eagles? - -He came and saw and she conquered in a trice. Her beauty, which was -unquestionable, and an inexhaustible fund of _verve_ and high-spirited -chatter which easily passed for wit were attractive to most men, and -Lord Stowmaries, somewhat blasé already by the more simpering advances -of the Court damsels, found a certain freshness in this young widow who -had not yet shaken off the breezy vulgarity of her East Anglian home, -and whose artless conversation, wholly innocent of elegance, was more -amusing than the stilted "Ohs!" and "Luds!" of the high-born ladies of -his own rank. - -The golden eagle seemed overwilling to allow the matrimonial snare set -by the fair Julia to close in around him: she was already over-sure of -him, and though she did not frequent the assemblies and salons where -congregated his lordship's many friends, she was fully aware that her -name was being constantly coupled with that of the Earl of Stowmaries. - -But now she saw that she had missed her aim, that the glorious bird no -longer flew within her reach, but was a prisoner in some one else's -cage, fettered beyond her powers of liberation. - -But still Mistress Julia with persistence worthy a better cause refused -to give up all hope. - -"Tell me all about it, my lord," she said as quietly as she could. "It -had been better had you spoken before." - -"I have been a fool, Mistress," he replied dully, "yet more sinned -against than sinning." - -"You'll not tell me that you are actually married?" she insisted. - -"Alas!" - -"And did not tell me so," she retorted hotly, "but came here, courting -me, speaking of love to me--of marriage--God help you! when the very -word was a sacrilege since you were not free--Oh! the perfidy of it -all!--and you speak of being more sinned against than sinning. 'Tis the -pillory you deserve, my lord, for thus shaming a woman first and then -breaking her heart." - -She was quite sincere in her vehemence, for self-control had now quite -deserted her, and the wrong and humiliation which she had been made to -endure, rose up before her like cruel monsters that mocked and jeered -at her annihilated hopes and her vanished dreams. Her voice rose in a -crescendo of shrill tones, only to sink again under the strength of -choking sobs. Despair, shame and bitter reproach rang through every -word which she uttered. - -"As you rightly say, Mistress," murmured the young man, "God help me!" - -"But the details, man--the details--" she rejoined impatiently; "cannot -you see that I am consumed with anxiety--the woman?--who is she?--" - -"Her name is Rose Marie," he replied in the same dull, even tones, -like a schoolboy reciting a lesson which he hath learned, but does not -understand; "she is the daughter of a certain M. Legros, who is tailor -to His Majesty the King of France." - -"A tailor!" she gasped, incredulous now, hopeful once more that the -young man was mayhap suffering from megrims and had seen unpleasant -visions, which had no life or reality in them. - -"A tailor's daughter?" she repeated. "Impossible!" - -"Only too true," he rejoined. "I had no choice in the matter." - -"Who had?" - -"My parents." - -"Tush!" she retorted scornfully, "and you a man!" - -"Nay! I was not a man then." - -"Evidently." - -"I was in my seventh year!" he exclaimed pathetically. - -There was a slight pause, during which the swiftly-risen hope a few -moments ago once more died away. Then she said drily: - -"And she?--this--this Rose or Mary--daughter of a tailor--how old was -she when you married her?" - -"In her second year, I think," he replied meekly. "I just remember -quite vaguely that after the ceremony she was carried screaming and -kicking out of the church. That was the last I saw of my wife from that -day to this--" - -"Bah!" - -"My great-uncle, the late Lord Stowmaries, shipped my father, mother -and myself off to Virginia soon after that. My father had been -something of a wastrel all his life and a thorn in the flesh of the -old miser. The second time that he was locked up in a debtor's prison, -Lord Stowmaries paid up for him on the condition that he went off to -Virginia at once with my mother and myself, and never showed his face -in England again." - -"Hm! I remember hearing something of this when you, my lord, came into -your title. But these--these--tailor people--who were they?" - -"Madame Legros was a distant connection of my mother's who, I suppose, -married the tailor for the same reason that I--an unfortunate lad -without a will of my own--was made to marry the tailor's daughter." - -"She is rich--of course?" - -"Legros, the tailor, owns millions, I believe, and Rose Marie is his -only child. It was the first time that my poor father, Captain Kestyon, -found himself actually in prison and unable to pay his debts. The Earl -of Stowmaries--a wicked old miser, if ever there was one--refused to -come to his rescue. My mother was practically penniless then; she had -no one to whom she could turn for succour except the cousin over in -Paris, who had always been kind to her, who was passing rich, burning -with social ambition, and glad enough to have the high-born English -lady beneath her bourgeois roof." - -"And that same burning social ambition caused the worthy tailor to -consent to a marriage between his baby daughter and the scion of one of -the grandest families in England," commented Mistress Julia calmly. "It -were all so simple--if only you had had the manhood to tell me all this -ere now." - -"I thought that miserable marriage forever forgotten." - -"Pshaw!" she retorted, "was it likely?" - -"I had heard nothing of the Legros for many years," he said dejectedly. -"My father had died out in the Colony: my mother and I continued to -live there on a meagre pittance which that miserly old reprobate--my -great-uncle--grudgingly bestowed upon us. This was scarce sufficient -for our wants, let alone for enabling us to save enough money to pay -our passage home. At first my mother was in the habit of asking for -and obtaining help from the Legros!--you understand? she never would -have consented to the connection," added the young man with naïve -cynicism, "had she not intended to derive profit therefrom, so whenever -an English or a French ship touched the coast my poor mother would -contrive to send a pathetic letter to be delivered in Paris, at the -house of the king's tailor. But after a while answers to these missives -became more and more rare, soon they ceased altogether, and it is now -eight years since the last remittance came--" - -"The worthy tailor and his wife were getting tired of the aristocratic -connection," commented Mistress Julia drily; "no doubt they too had -intended to derive profit therefrom and none came." - -"Was I not right, Mistress, in thinking that ill-considered marriage -forgotten?" quoth Lord Stowmaries with more vehemence than he had -displayed in the actual recital of the sordid tale; "was I not -justified in thinking that the Legros had by now bitterly regretted the -union of their only child to the penniless son of a spendthrift father? -Tell me," he reiterated hotly, "was I not justified?--I thought that -they had forgotten--that they had regretted--that Rose Marie had found -a husband more fitted to her lowly station and to her upbringing--and -that her parents would only be too glad to think that I too had -forgotten--or that I was dead." - -There was a slight pause. Mistress Julia's white brow was puckered into -a deep frown of thought. - -"Well, my lord," she said at last, "ye've told me the past--and though -the history be not pretty, it is past and done with, and I take it that -your concern now is rather with the present." - -"Alas!" - -"Nay! sigh me not such doleful sighs, man!" she exclaimed with angry -impatience, "but in the name of all the saints get on with your tale. -What has happened? The Legros have found out that little Rupert Kestyon -hath now become Earl of Stowmaries and one of the richest peers in the -kingdom--that's it--is it not?" - -"Briefly, that is it, Mistress. They demand that their daughter be -instated in her position and the full dignities and rights to which her -marriage entitle her." - -"Failing which?" she asked curtly. - -"Oh! scandal! disgrace! they will apply to the Holy Father--the orders -would then come direct from Rome--I could not disobey under pain of -excommunication--" - -"Such tyranny!" - -"The Kestyons have been Catholics for five hundred years," said the -young man simply, whilst a touch of dignity--the first since he began -to relate his miserable tale--now crept into his attitude. "We do not -call the dictates of the Holy Father in question, nor do we name them -tyranny. They are irrevocable in matters such as these--" - -"Surely--a sum of money--" she hazarded. - -"The Legros have more of that commodity than I have. But it is not a -question of money. Believe me, fair Mistress," he said in tones which -once more revealed the sorrow of his heart, "I have thought on the -matter in all its bearings--I have even broached the subject to the -Duke of York," he added after an imperceptible moment of hesitation. - -"Ah? and what said His Highness?" asked Mistress Julia with that -quick inward catching of her breath which the mentioning of exalted -personages was ever wont to call forth in her. - -"Oh! His Highness only spoke of the sanctity of the marriage tie--" - -"'Twas not likely he would talk otherwise. 'Tis said that his bigotry -grows daily upon him--and that he only awaits a favourable moment to -embrace openly the Catholic Faith--" - -"His Majesty was of the same opinion, too." - -"Ah? You spoke to His Majesty?" - -"Was it not my duty?" - -"Mayhap--mayhap--and what did His Majesty say?" - -"Oh! he was pleased to take the matter more lightly--but then there is -the Queen Mother--and--" - -"Who else? I pray you, who else?" said Mistress Julia now with renewed -acerbity. "His Majesty, His Royal Highness, the Queen--half London, to -boot--to know of my discomfiture and shame--" - -Her voice again broke in a sob, she buried her face in her hands, and -tears which mayhap had more affinity to anger than to sorrow escaped -freely from between her fingers. In a moment the young man was at her -feet. Gone was his apathy, his sullenness now. He was on one knee and -his two arms encircled the quivering shoulders of the fair, enraged one. - -"Mistress, Mistress," he entreated, whilst his eager lips sought the -close proximity of her shell-like ear; "Julia, my beloved, in the name -of the Holy Virgin, I pray you dry your tears. You break my heart, fair -one. You--O God!" he added vehemently, "am I not the most miserable -of men? What sin have I committed that such a wretched fate should -overwhelm me? I love you and I have made you cry--" - -"Nay, my lord," whispered Julia through her tears, "an you loved me--" - -She paused with well-calculated artfulness, whilst he murmured with -pathetic and tender reproach: - -"An I loved you! Is not my heart bound to your dainty feet? my soul -fettered by the glance of your eyes? Do you think, Mistress, that I can -ever bear to contemplate the future now, when for days, nay! weeks and -months, ever since I first beheld your exquisite loveliness, I have -ever pictured myself only as your slave, ever thought of you only as my -wife? That old castle over in Hertfordshire, once so inimical to me, -I have learnt to love it of late because I thought you would be its -mistress; I treasured every tree because your eyes would behold their -beauty; I guarded with jealous care every footpath in the park because -I hoped that some day soon your fairy feet would wander there." - -Mistress Julia seemed inclined to weep yet more copiously. No doubt the -ardently-whispered words of my lord Stowmaries caused her to realise -more vividly all that she had hoped for, all that was lost to her now. - -Oh! was it not maddening? Had ever woman been called upon to endure -quite so bitter a disappointment? - -"It's the shame of it all, my lord," she said brokenly, "and--" -she whispered with tenderness, "I too had thought of a future -beside a man whom I had learned to--to love. I suffer as you do, my -lord--and--besides that, the awful shame. Your favours to me, my -lord, have caused much bitter gall in the hearts of the envious--my -humiliation will enable them to exult--to jeer at my discomfiture--to -throw scandalous aspersions at my conduct--I shall of a truth be -disgraced, sneered at--ruined--" - -"Let any one dare--" muttered the young man fiercely. - -"Nay! how will you stop them? 'Tis the women who will dare the most. -Oh! if you loved me, my lord, as you say you do, if your protestations -are not mere empty words, you would not allow this unmerited disgrace -to fall upon me thus." - -Who shall say what tortuous thoughts rose in Mistress Peyton's mind -at this moment? Is there aught in the world quite so cruel as a woman -baffled? Think on it, how she had been fooled. The very intensity of -the young man's passion, which had been revealed to her in its fulness -now that he knew that an insuperable barrier stood between him and the -fulfilment of his desires, showed her but too plainly how near she had -been to her goal. - -At times--ere this--she had dreaded and doubted. The brilliancy of his -position, his wealth and high dignity had caused her sometimes a pang -of fear lest he did not think her sufficiently his equal to raise her -to his own high rank. At such moments she had redoubled her efforts, -had schemed and had striven, despite the fact that her efforts in -that direction had--as she well knew--not escaped the prying eyes of -the malevolent. What cared she then for their sneers so long as she -succeeded? - -And now with success fully in sight, she had failed--hopelessly, -ridiculously--ignominiously failed. - -Oh! how she hated that unknown woman, that low-born bourgeoise, who had -robbed her of her prize! She hated the woman, she hated the family, the -Parisian tailor and his scheming wife. God help her, she even hated the -unfortunate young deceiver who was clinging passionately to her knees. - -She pushed him roughly aside, springing to her feet, unable to sit -still, and began pacing up and down the small room, the tiny dainty -cage wherein she had hoped to complete the work of ensnaring the golden -bird. - -"Julia!" - -He too jumped to his feet. Once more he tried to embrace the quivering -shoulders, to imprison the nervous, restless fingers, to capture -the trembling lips. But she would no longer yield. Of what use were -yielding now? - -"Nay! nay! I pray you, leave me," she said petulantly. "Of what purpose -are your protestations, my lord--they are but a further outrage. -Indeed, I pray you, go." - -Once more she turned to the bell-pull, and took the heavy silken -cord in her hand, the outward sign of his dismissal. Some chivalrous -instinct in him made him loth to force his company on her any longer. -But his glowering eyes, fierce and sullen, sought to read her face. - -"When may I come back?" he asked. - -"Never," she replied. - -But we may be allowed to suppose that something in her accent, in her -attitude of hesitancy, gave the lie to the cruel word, for he rejoined -immediately: - -"To-morrow?" - -"Never," she repeated. - -"To-morrow?" he insisted. - -"What were the use?" - -"I vow," he said with grim earnestness, "that if you dismiss me now, -without the hope of seeing you again, I'll straight to the river, and -seek oblivion in death." - -"'Twere the act of a coward!" she retorted. - -"Mayhap. But Fate has dealt overharshly with me. I cannot face life -if you turn in bitterness from me. Heaven only knows how I can face -it at all without you--but your forgiveness may help me to live; it -would keep me back from the lasting disgrace of a suicide's grave, from -eternal damnation. Will you let me come to-morrow? Will you give me -your forgiveness then?" - -He tried to draw near her again, but she put out her hand and drew -resolutely back. - -"Mayhap--mayhap," she said hurriedly. "I know not--but not now, my -lord--I entreat you to go." - -She rang the bell quickly, as if half afraid of herself, lest she might -yield, after all. Mistress Julia knew but little of love--perhaps until -this moment she had never realised that she cared for this young man, -quite apart from the position and wealth which he would be able to give -her. But now, somehow, she felt intensely sorry for him, and there was -quite a small measure of unselfishness in her grief at this irrevocable -turn of events. The glance which she finally turned upon him softened -the cruelty of his dismissal. - -"Come and say good-bye to-morrow," she murmured. Then she raised a -finger to her lips. "Sh!--sh!--sh!" she whispered scarce above her -breath; "say nothing more now--I could not bear it. But come and say -good-bye to-morrow." - -The serving man's steps were heard the other side of the door. He was -coming in answer to the bell. - -Lord Stowmaries dropped on one knee. He contrived to capture -a feebly-resisting little hand and to impress a kiss upon the -rouge-tipped fingers. - -Then after a final low bow, he turned and walked out of the room. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man. - --I HENRY IV. II. 4. - - -Mistress Julia Peyton waited for a few moments until the opening -and shutting of the outer door proclaimed the fact that young Lord -Stowmaries had really and definitely gone. - -Then she went to the little _secrétaire_ which stood in an angle of the -room, drew forth a sheet of paper, took a heavy quill pen in her hand, -and feverishly--though very laboriously--began to write. - -It was a difficult task which the fair lady had set herself to do, for -neither writing nor spelling were among her accomplishments, being -deemed unnecessary and not pertaining to the arts of pleasing. But -still she worked away, with hand cramped round the rebellious quill, -dainty fingers stained with the evil-smelling black liquid, and her -brow puckered with the intensity of mental effort, until she had -succeeded in putting on paper just what she wished to say: - - "_To siR john Ayloff at His resedence in lincoln's inn - Filds._ - - "HONORD SIR COSIN: This to Tell yo That i wish to speke with - yo This da and At ons opon a Matter of life and Deth. - - "yr obedt Servt - "JULIA PEYTON." - -A goodly number of blots appeared upon this missive as well as upon -Mistress Julia's brocaded kirtle, before she had finished. But once -the letter duly signed, she folded and sealed it, then once more rang -the bell. - -"Take this to the house of Sir John Ayloffe at once," she said -peremptorily to her serving man who appeared at the door, "and if he be -within bring him hither without delay. If he be from home, seek him at -the Coffee Tavern in Holborn Bars, or at the sign of the Three Bears in -the Strand. But do not come back until you've found Sir John." - -She gave the letter to the man, and, as the latter with a brief word -indicative of obedience and understanding prepared to go, she added -curtly: - -"And if you do not find Sir John and bring him hither within half an -hour, you may leave my service without notice or character, but with -twenty blows of the stick across your back. You understand? Now you may -go." - -Then--as the man finally retired--Mistress Julia was left alone to face -the problem as to how best she could curb her impatience until the -arrival of Sir John. - -Her threat would lend wings to her messenger's feet, for her -service was reckoned a good one, owing to the many lavish gifts and -unconsidered trifles which fell from the liberal hands of Mistress -Julia's courtiers, whilst her old henchman--a burly East Anglian relict -of former days in Norfolk--loved to wield a heavy stick over the backs -of his younger subordinates. - -If Sir John Ayloffe was at home, he could be here in ten minutes; if -he had gone to the Coffee Tavern in Holborn Bars, then in twenty; but -if the messenger had to push on as far as the Strand, then the full -half-hour must elapse ere the arrival of Sir John. - -And if he came, what should she say to him? Of all her many adorers, -Sir John was the only one who had never spoken of matrimony. A distant -connection of the late Squire Peyton's, he it was who had launched the -young widow on her social career in London and thus enabled her to -enter on her great matrimonial venture. - -Sir John Ayloffe, who in his early youth had been vastly busy in -dissipating the fortune left to him by a thrifty father, was chiefly -occupied now that he had reached middle age in finding the means to -live with outward decency, if not always with strict honesty. Among -these means gambling and betting were of course in the forefront. -These vices were not only avowable, they were thought gentlemanly and -altogether elegant. - -But how to gamble and bet without cheating is a difficult problem which -Sir John Ayloffe never really succeeded in solving. So far chance had -favoured him. His various little transactions at the hazard tables or -betting rings had gone off with a certain amount of luck and not too -much publicity. - -He had managed to keep up his membership at Culpeper's and other -fashionable clubs, and had not up to the present been threatened with -expulsion from Newmarket. He was still a welcome guest at the Coffee -Taverns where the young bloods congregated, and at the Three Bears in -the Strand, the resort of the most fashionable young rakes of the day. - -But one or two dark, ugly-looking clouds began to hover on his -financial horizon, and there was a time--some eighteen months ago--when -Sir John Ayloffe had serious thoughts of a long voyage abroad for the -benefit of his health. - -This was just before he received the intimation that his cousin--old -Squire Peyton--had left a young and pretty widow, who was burning with -the desire not to allow her many charms to be buried in oblivion in a -tumble-down Norfolk manor. - -Although Mistress Julia Peyton knew little if anything of spelling and -other book lore, her knowledge of human--or rather masculine--nature -was vast and accurate. After half an hour's conversation with her -newly-found kinsman, she had gauged the use which she could make of him -and of his impecuniousness to a nicety. - -He was over-ready, on the other hand, to respond to her wishes. The -bargain was quickly struck, with cards on the table, and the calling of -a spade by its own proper appellation. - -Mistress Julia Peyton was calculated to do credit to any London -kinsman who chose to introduce his most aristocratic friends into her -house. And remember, Sir John Ayloffe had plenty of these, and was to -receive a goodly sum from the young widow for every such introduction. -Such matters were not difficult to arrange at a time when money was -scarce and love of display great. The fair Julia lost nothing by the -business. Her house, thanks to Sir John, was well frequented by the -pleasure-loving set of London. - -Then there loomed ahead the final and great project: the marriage of -Mistress Julia! and herein Sir John's cooperation was indeed to be well -paid. From one thousand pounds, up to five, was to be his guerdon, -according as his fair kinswoman's second husband was a wealthy baronet, -a newly-created peer, or the bearer of one of those ancient names and -high dignities or titles which gave him entrées at Court, privileges of -every sort and kind, which his wife would naturally share with him. - -When the brigantine _Speedwell_ went down off the Spanish coast with -all on board, the late Earl of Stowmaries lost at one fell swoop his -only son and heir, and the latter's three young boys, who were all on -a pleasure cruise on the ill-fated vessel. The old man did not survive -the terrible shock of that appalling catastrophe. He died within six -months of the memorable tragedy, and Rupert Kestyon--the son of the -impecunious spendthrift who was lying forgotten in a far-off grave in a -distant colony--became Earl of Stowmaries, one of the wealthiest peers -in England. - -In a moment he became the most noted young buck of the Court of the -Restoration, the cynosure of every feminine eye. He was young, well -looking, and his romantic upbringing in the far-off colony founded by -his co-religionists, made him a vastly interesting personality. - -Mistress Julia, as soon as she heard his name, his prestige, and -his history, began to dream of him--and of herself as Countess of -Stowmaries. Once more Cousin John was appealed to. - -"Six thousand pounds for you, Cousin, the day on which I become -Countess of Stowmaries." - -Only the introduction was needed. Mistress Julia, past-mistress by now -in the art of pleasing, would undertake to do the rest. - -Young Lord Stowmaries was a member of Culpeper's. Sir John Ayloffe -contrived to attract his attention, and one day to bring him to the -house of the fascinating widow. - -Sir John had done his work. So had the beautiful Julia. It was Chance -who had played an uneven game, wherein the two gamblers, handicapped by -their ignorance of past events, had lost the winning hand. - -And it was because she felt that Cousin John had almost as much at -stake in the game as she had, that Mistress Julia Peyton sent for her -partner, when Chance dealt what seemed a mortal blow to her dearest -hope and scheme. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes - Between the pass and fell incenséd points of mighty opposites. - --HAMLET V. 2. - - -Less than twenty minutes after the despatch of her missive--twenty -minutes which seemed to Julia more like twenty cycles of immeasurable -time--Sir John Ayloffe was announced. - -He entered very composedly. Having been formally announced by the -servant, he waited with easy patience that the man should close the -doors and leave him alone with his fair cousin. - -He scarcely touched her fingers with his lips and she said quickly: - -"'Twas kind to come at once. You were at home?" - -"Waiting for this summons," he replied. - -"Then you knew?" she asked. - -"Since last evening!" he said simply. - -He was of a tall, somewhat fleshy build, the face--good-looking -enough--rendered heavy by many dissipations and nights of vigil and -pleasure. His eyes were very prominent, surrounded by thick lids, -furtive and quick in expression like those of a fox on the alert. -The heavy features--nose, chin and lips--were, so 'twas said, an -inheritance from a Jewish ancestress, the daughter of a rich Levantine -merchant, brought into England by one of the Ayloffes who graced this -country in the days of Richard III. - -It was the money of this same ancestress which had enriched the -impoverished family, and had at the same time sown the seeds of that -love of luxury and display which had ruined the present bearer of the -ancient name. From that same Oriental ancestress Sir John Ayloffe had -no doubt inherited his cleverness at striking a bargain as well as his -taste for showy apparel. He was always dressed in the latest fashion, -and had already adopted the new modes lately imported from France, the -long vest tied in with a gaily coloured sash, the shorter surcoat with -its rows of gilded buttons, and oh! wonder of wonders, the huge French -periwig, with its many curls which none knew better than did Sir John -how to toss and to wallow when he bowed. - -His fat fingers were covered with rings, and the buckles on his shoes -glittered with shiny stones. - -Julia, quivering with eagerness and excitement which she took no pains -to conceal, now dragged Sir John down to a settee beside her. - -"You knew that my lord of Stowmaries was a married man, and that I have -been fooled beyond the powers of belief!" she ejaculated, whilst her -angry eyes searched his furtive ones, in a vain endeavour to read his -thoughts. - -"I heard my lord's miserable story from his own lips last night," -reiterated Sir John. - -"Ah! He told it then over the supper table, between two bumpers of -wine, to a set of boon companions as drunken, as dissolute as himself? -Man! man! why don't you speak?" she cried almost hysterically, for -she had suffered a great deal to-day, her nerves were overwrought and -threatening to give way in the face of this new and horrible vision -conjured up by her own excited imagination. "Why don't you describe -the whole scene to me--the laughter which the tale evoked, the sneers -directed against the unfortunate woman who has been so hideously -fooled?" - -Ayloffe listened to the tirade with the patience of a man who has had -many dealings with the gentle if somewhat highly-strung sex. He patted -her twitching fingers with his own soft, pulpy palm, and waited until -her paroxysm of weeping had calmed down, then he said quietly: - -"Nay, dear coz, the scene as it occurred round the most exclusive table -at the Three Bears, in no way bears resemblance to the horrible picture -which your fevered fancy has conjured up. My lord of Stowmaries told -his pitiable tale in the midst of awed and sympathetic silence, broken -only by brief exclamations of friendship and pity." - -"And my name was not mentioned?" she asked, mollified but still -incredulous. - -"Not save in the deepest respect," he replied, whilst a line of sarcasm -quickly repressed rose to his fleshy lips. "How could you suppose the -reverse?" - -"Ah, well, mayhap, since women were not present. But they will hear -of it, too, to-day or to-morrow. The story is bound to leak out. My -lord of Stowmaries' attentions to me were known all over the town--and -to-day or to-morrow people will talk, will laugh and jeer. Oh! I cannot -bear it," she added with renewed vehemence; "I cannot--I cannot--I -verily believe 'twill drive me mad." - -She rose and resumed her agitated walk up and down the small room, -her clenched fists beating one against the other, her trembling lips -murmuring with irritating persistency. - -"I cannot bear it--I cannot bear it. The ridicule--the ridicule will -kill me--" - -Suddenly she paused in her restlessness, stood in front of Sir John and -let her tear-dimmed eyes rest on his thick-set face. - -"Cousin," she said deliberately, "you must find a way out of this -impasse." - -"You must find a way out of it," she reiterated firmly. - -He shrugged his shoulders, and said drily: - -"Fair Mistress, you may as well ask me to reconcile the Pope of Rome -and all the hierarchy of the Catholic Church to the idea of flouting -the sacrament of marriage, by declaring that its bonds are no longer -indissoluble. The past few centuries have taught us that in Rome they -are none too ready to do that." - -"I was not thinking of such vast schemes," said Julia in tones as dry -as his had been. "I was not thinking either of corrupting the Roman -Church, or of persuading one of her adherents to rebel against her. -My lord of Stowmaries has already explained to me," she continued -with bitter sarcasm, "that against the Pope's decision there would be -no appeal--he himself would not wish to appeal against it. His love -for me is apparently not so boundless as I had fondly imagined, its -limits meseems are traced in Rome. He has given me to understand that -his wife's people--those--those tailors of Paris--actually hold a -promise from the Pope that a command will be issued ordering that their -daughter be installed and acknowledged as Countess of Stowmaries and -that without any undue delay. Failing which, excommunication for my -lord, scandal, disgrace. Bah! I know not!--these Romanists are servile -under such tyranny--and we know that not only the Duke of York, but the -king himself is at one with the Catholics just now. No--no--no--that -sort of thing is not to be thought on, Cousin, but there are other -ways--" - -Her eyes, restless, searching, half-fearful, tried to fix the glance of -his own. But his shifted uneasily, now responding to her questioning -look, anon trying to avoid it, as if dreading to comprehend. - -"Other ways, other ways!" he muttered; "of a truth there are many -such--but none of which you, fair Cousin, would care to take the risk." - -"How do you know that?" she retorted. "There are no risks which I -would not run, in order to free the man I love from the trammels of an -undesired marriage." - -Cousin John said nothing in reply. His eyes, still furtive in -expression, were no longer restless. They were fixed upon the beautiful -face before him, the luminous eyes, the daintily-curved mouth, the -rounded chin--a transparent and exquisite mask which scarcely concealed -now the strange and tortuous thoughts which chased one another behind -that white brow, smooth as that of a child. - -She held his gaze, willing that he should read those thoughts, wishing -him to divine them; in fact, to save her the humiliation of framing -them into words. But as he seemed disinclined to speak, she reiterated -with slow and deliberate emphasis: - -"There are no risks, Cousin, which I would not run." - -"'Tis nobly said," he remarked, without attempting this time to conceal -the sarcastic smile which played round his sensuous lips. "Odd's fish! -the man whom you have honoured with such sublime devotion is lucky -beyond compare." - -"A truce on your sneers, Sir John," she retorted imperiously; "you said -that there were several ways whereby that hateful marriage could be -annulled. What are they?" - -Sir John Ayloffe glanced down the length of his elegant surcoat; with -careful hand he smoothed out a wrinkle which had appeared in the -well-fitting breeches just above his knee, he readjusted the set of -his fringed scarf, and of his lace-edged cravat. All this took time -and kept Mistress Julia on tenter hooks, the while she felt as if her -temples would burst from their throbbing. - -Then, at last, Cousin John looked up at her again. - -"Poison," he said drily; "an Italian stiletto an you prefer that -method. An hired assassin in any event--" - -A shudder ran down her spine. Had she really harboured these thoughts -herself, and had Cousin John merely put her wild imaginings into -words? Thus crudely put they horrified her--for the moment--and she -looked down almost with loathing on the man who accompanied each grim -suggestion with a leer, which caused his thick lips to part and to -disclose a row of large, uneven teeth stained with tobacco juice and -giving his face a cruel expression like that of a hyena. - -"You see, there are always means, fair Cousin," continued Sir John -with pleasing urbanity; "it is only a question of money--and of the -risks which one is prepared to run. Beyond that, I believe, that the -task, though difficult, can be accomplished in Paris. There are some -amiable gentry there ever ready to do your bidding, whatever it may be, -provided you are generous--" - -She passed the gossamer handkerchief over her dry lips. - -"I had not thought of crime," she murmured. - -"Had you not?" he said blandly. "Yet 'tis the most easy solution of the -difficulty." - -"But there are others," she insisted. - -"I fear not." - -Again she paused, then continued, speaking very low, scarce above a -whisper. - -"You would help me, of course?" - -"I could certainly go over to Paris," he said with marked hesitation, -"always providing I were plentifully supplied with money--a voyage of -reconnaissance, you understand--nothing more--" - -"Which means that you will not help me." - -"The risks are too great, Cousin--I--" - -"You would not care to run them, in order to be of service to me?" - -"Frankly--no!" - -"And suppose, Cousin John," she now said more quietly, once more -sitting down beside him, "supposing, I say for the sake of argument, -that I were to come to you and tell you that I will give half of my -fortune to the man who will at this juncture so ordinate matters that -my marriage with the Earl of Stowmaries once more becomes not only -feasible, but inevitable. What then?" - -"Then--also for the sake of argument," he rejoined blandly, "I would -ask you, fair Cousin, of what your fortune consists." - -"Squire Peyton left me £20,000 and the principal is still intact." - -"Deposited--where?" - -"The bulk of it with Mr. Brooke the goldsmith. He pays me six per cent. -per year thereon. It hath sufficed for my needs. No one--except you, -Cousin, now--knows the extent of this fortune. Half of it will suffice -me for pin money, once I am Countess of Stowmaries. My lord would marry -me--if he were free--an I had not a groat to my name, nor more than one -gown to my back. Ten thousand pounds shall be yours, Cousin, if you can -bring this about." - -"Call it £12,000, Mistress, and it shall be done," he said cynically. - -"How will you do it?" - -"Let that be my secret for the nonce." - -"I'll give you no advance, remember," she said quickly, for she had -seen the swift glitter of joy in his eyes, at the first mention of -money, and she knew full well that she could not count on the most -elementary feelings of honesty on the part of this unscrupulous gambler. - -"Then I can do nothing," he concluded decisively. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Only this, fair Cousin, that putting aside the question--a somewhat -humiliating one for me, you must admit--that your refusal to place -certain funds in advance in my hands, implies a singular and--if I may -say so--an ill-considered want of trust on your part; putting this -question aside, I say, you must understand that nothing in this present -world can be accomplished without money, and I am reduced to my last -shilling." - -"Have I not said that £10,000 shall be yours the day that my marriage -with Lord Stowmaries is irrevocably settled?" - -"£12,000," he corrected suavely. - -"Very well, then, £12,000. We'll have the bond duly writ out and -signed." - -"And you, fair Cousin, will immediately place in my hands a first -instalment of £2,000." - -"Failing which?" - -"As I have had the honour to tell you, I can do nothing. This is my -last word, fair Cousin," he added, seeing that Mistress Julia still -seemed inclined to hesitate. - -There was silence in the little room for a few seconds, a silence all -complete save for the solemn ticking of a little French clock over -the hearth. Sir John Ayloffe lounging on the settee with one firm leg -clad in the new-fashioned tight breeches stretched out at full length, -the other doubled inwards, so that the satin shimmered and crackled -over his knee, his jewelled hands toying with the lace cravat, or -with the dark curls of his periwig, looked now the picture of supreme -indifference. - -It almost seemed as if £12,000 more or less in his vest pocket would -affect him not at all. But the fleshy lids had half-closed over the -prominent eyes, and from beneath their folds he was watching the -fair young widow, who made no attempt to hide her hesitancy and her -perturbation. - -He knew quite well that his personality, the weight of his whole -individuality, would win against her prudence in the end. He was fully -aware that among the crowd of her several adorers, she had no one to -whom she could confide her present troubles, no one whose aid she could -with so much surety invoke. Few were so resourceful, none quite so -unscrupulous, as Sir John Ayloffe where his own interests were at stake. - -That £12,000 which was to be his price would mean the final ending of -his shiftless career. He felt himself getting older every day, and -the thought of what the morrow might bring--a morrow when he would no -longer be active and alert, neither amusing nor interesting to those -whose company was a necessity to his livelihood--that thought was -embittering his present life, until at times he wondered whether a -self-inflicted sword thrust to end a miserable existence were not the -most desirable contingency after all. - -How he would earn that £12,000 he did not know as yet. His secret was -that he did not know. But he had lived for the past twenty years in -sublime ignorance of the various shifts which he might be put to from -day to day, and he knew that he could trust to his imagination to find -a means now, when the result would mean security in old age, peace from -that eternal war against chance--almost a fortune in these days when -money was scarce after the great turmoil of civil war. - -Therefore, though he said no more, though he assumed an indifference -which he was very far from feeling, he not only watched Mistress Julia, -but with every nerve within him, with all the magnetism of his powerful -personality, he willed her to accede to his wishes. - -She, feeling this subtle influence in the same manner as in ages to -come mediums were destined to feel the influence of hypnotic power, -she gradually yielded to his unspoken desire--yielded to him whilst -believing that she held the threads of her own destiny, and that the -final decision only rested with her. - -Then she rose and went to that same little bureau in the angle of the -room, at which just an hour ago she had penned so laboriously the -missive which had summoned Sir John Ayloffe hither. This time, as she -sat down to it, she took from beneath her kerchief a small key which -was fastened round her neck by a silk ribbon. With this she opened -one of the drawers of the bureau, and after another moment of final -hesitation she deliberately took a packet from the drawer. - -The packet was tied up with green cord; this she untied with a hand -that trembled somewhat with feverish excitement. Having selected a -paper from among a number of others, she once more fastened the green -cord, replaced the packet in the drawer, locked the latter and replaced -the key in the folds of her gown. - -Then paper in hand she turned back to the settee whereon lolled Sir -John Ayloffe, and holding the paper out to him, she said: - -"This is an order requesting Master Brooke, goldsmith, of Minchin Lane, -to hand over to you on my behalf the sum of £2,000." - -Sir John roused himself from his well-studied apathy. He took the paper -from Mistress Julia's hand, looked at it very carefully, then folded -it and prepared to slip it in his breast pocket. - -"Remember, Cousin," she said calmly, "that if I find that you have -deceived me in this, that you have deliberately robbed me of this -£2,000 without having any intention or power to help me in my need, -that, in such a case you will lose the only friend you have in the -world. I will turn my back on you for ever; you shall never darken the -threshold of my door, and if I saw you in want or in a debtor's prison, -I would not pay one farthing to help you in your need. You believe -that, do you not?" - -"I believe that a woman thwarted is capable of anything," he retorted -with a sneer. - -"There I think you are right, Cousin," she assented, whilst a look of -determination which assorted strangely with her otherwise impulsive -ways marred for a moment the childlike prettiness of her face. "You -would find me very hard and unforgiving, if you cheated me of my hopes." - -"Very hard, I doubt not," he said blandly. "Did I not see a while ago, -fair Cousin, your gentle soul taking in with scarce a thought of horror -my first suggestion of poison or hired assassin?" - -"Tush, man! prate not so lightly of these things. Bah!" she added with -some of her former vehemence, "there are other things that kill besides -poison or stilettos--things that hurt worse than death--things that no -Countess of Stowmaries could endure and live. You have your £2,000, -man--go--go and think--a fortune an you succeed." - -Sir John Ayloffe smiled. The lady had at last shown to him--mayhap -without meaning to do so--the real desire of her heart. She had also -set his active brain athinking. As she said, it would be a fortune if -he succeeded. - -He had placed the valuable paper carefully away in his breast pocket; -he tapped this pocket gently to feel that it was secure. Then--as -obviously the interview must now come to an end--he rose to go. - -Vague thoughts were already floating in his mind, and when she too rose -to bid him farewell, and her fevered eyes found his and held them, he -responded with a look of distinct encouragement. - -Long after Cousin John's footsteps had ceased to echo along the short -flagged corridor, Mistress Julia Peyton sat musing, whilst a sigh of -content and of hope ever and anon escaped her lips. Her face was quite -serene, her expression one of anticipation rather than of trouble. -Never for a moment did a pang of conscience trouble her. Remember, -that the unknown Countess of Stowmaries--the daughter of the Paris -tailor--was but a shadowy personality to her. Less than two hours ago, -Mistress Julia was not aware of her existence. - -Was it wrong then to wish her out of the way? With commendable -satisfaction, the outraged beauty realised that she felt no direct -wish for any bodily harm to come to her successful rival. And pray, -how many women would have had such scruples? A certain feeling of -self-righteousness eased Mistress Julia's soul at the thought. - -No. She wished the real and only Countess of Stowmaries no bodily harm. -She had made Cousin John understand that, she hoped. Crime might mean -remorse, which would be unpleasant, also fear of discovery. Mistress -Julia hoped now that she had made Cousin John understand quite clearly -that she wanted neither poison nor hired assassin for the end which -she had in view--not at first at any rate--later on, mayhap--if other -schemes had failed-- - -There are things which hurt worse than death--and Mistress Julia had -placed in the hands of an unscrupulous gambler the means whereby such -things could easily be brought about. - -If such things be crimes, they certainly were not of the kind which -troubled Mistress Julia's conscience. - -Having settled these abstract points to her own satisfaction, she -adjourned to her tiring-room and rang for her maid. She told the wench -to prepare that new butter-coloured satin gown with the pink rosebuds -broidered thereon--a vastly becoming gown for setting off the fair -Julia's style of beauty--and also the colverteen pinner which had the -advantage of making any woman look demure. She had her hair redressed -in the newest fashion with immense taure and puffs which made her small -head look wide and her tiny face more childlike and innocent than ever. - -She meant to finish the day at the King's Playhouse, there to witness -a vastly diverting comedy by the late Master Shakespeare. She wished -to see and to be seen by His Majesty, by the Duke of York, and all -London society. Knowing that her name would be in everybody's mouth, -she wished to appear radiant with beauty and good spirits, and in -no way concerned with the ugly rumours anent the tailor's daughter -over in Paris, and the ridiculous cock and bull story that my lord of -Stowmaries was other than engaged to wed Mistress Julia Peyton ere the -London season had fully run its course. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - Enquire at London 'mongst the taverns there. - --RICHARD II. V. 3. - - -You know the place well enough, or failing yourself--if so be that -you are less than three-score years and ten--then your father would -remember it well. - -It was situate in the Strand until that time, close to its junction -with Fleet Street and within a pebble's throw from St. Clements. A -tall narrow building, raftered and gabled, the timbers painted a dark -chocolate colour, with alternate lines of a luscious creamy tint -rendered mellow with the dirt and smoke of London. It stood on that -selfsame spot two hundred and more years ago, when it was the favourite -resort of that band of young rakes who adorned the Court of the Merry -Monarch. - -It were somewhat difficult to say why my lord of Craye, or Sir Anthony -Wykeham, or the Earl of Stowmaries had chosen this very unprepossessing -tavern for their evening assemblies. The exterior, as your father could -tell you, was certainly not inviting, for the gables were all askew, -the stories low and widening one over another, all awry as if ready to -fall, the front door, too, was cracked from corner to corner, nor were -the public rooms much more alluring. In the coffee room the window with -its small panes of bottle glass hardly allowed any daylight to filter -in; the floor had once been neatly covered in bricks, but now most -of these were broken in half, with pieces of them missing, showing -little three-cornered holes which suggested dirt-grubbing insects and -storehouses of dust. - -There were other disadvantages, too, about the place, which should -have scared off any fastidious young man however bent on pleasure he -might be, but we have it on M. Misson's own authority--and he was no -great admirer of things English and speaks somewhat ill-naturedly of -everything he saw during his voyage--that the cellars at the sign -of the Three Bears were exceedingly well stocked with Spanish and -Rhenish wines and even with French brandies which were heady and vastly -pleasing to the palate first and to the temper afterwards. - -We are also told by that same highly-critical French traveller that -Mistress Janet Foorde, wife of the landlord of the Three Bears, could -turn out a better supper than any other cook in London, and fashioned -a lamprey pie, or a _fricassée_ of rabbits and chickens, in such a -delicious manner that once eaten it could never be forgotten. - -Be that as it may, we know it for a fact that in this year of grace -1678 the Tavern in the Strand at the sign of the Three Bears was, every -evening after the hour of eight, frequented by the very élite of London -society. Supper was served in one of the smaller rooms at a table -around which sat those same gentlemen who in the earlier part of the -day had graced His Majesty's levee, or the Court of the unhappy Queen, -or that narrow circle which stood as a phalanx round the person of the -unpopular Duke of York. - -The assembly purported to be political. There was more than a mere -suggestion of Roman Catholic discontent freely expressed around that -congenial board, and it was well known that on more than one occasion -the King himself had been present at these gatherings--incognito, of -course--his identity known only to his own intimate friends. - -But the discussion of the political and social position of Roman -Catholics in England, was, we must admit, not the primary object of the -nightly reunions in the private room at the Three Bears. Supper after -the play in the King's House came first, then dice, hazard or the more -fashionable game of Spanish ombre, all well interlarded with the chief -gossip and scandals of the day. - -Reputations for beauty, wit or morals were made or marred around that -table in the small room; the latest fashions were discussed, which -to adopt and which to reject. The young fops fresh from the Grand -Tour here recounted their impressions, displayed--for approval or -disfavour--the latest modes from Paris, the new surcoats, the monstrous -periwigs, the very latest notion in lace cravats. - -Here, too, the young rakes aired their--oft scandalous--literary -efforts, bonsmots unfit for ladies' ears were invented and retailed, -and we all know that my lord of Rochester never thought of publishing -verse or prose without first submitting it to the censorship of the -select party at the Three Bears. - -We may take it that Sir John Ayloffe--despite the vicissitudes of -fortune which had brought him to the pass of empty pockets and -of unavowable shifts--was still a _persona grata_ at the nightly -assemblies of the distinguished tavern, for some few hours after his -interview with his beautiful kinswoman on this memorable evening of -February 8th, 1678, we see him turning his footsteps unhesitatingly in -the direction of the "Three Bears" in the Strand. - -Closely wrapped in his cloak, for the wind blew bitter gusts, he bent -his head against the driving rain as he walked. The rickety door of the -tavern stood invitingly open and as one accustomed to the place Sir -John with quickened steps entered the narrow passage. - -Immediately his nostrils were greeted with the pungent odour of onions -and of boiling fat, and his ears with loud shouts of merriment, which -raised a boisterous echo in the tumble-down building and seemed to make -the walls totter on their insecure foundation. - -This hilarious noise, wherein songs, sung in hoarse voices very much -out of tune, mingled with violent outbursts of prolonged laughter and -with volleys of full-toned oaths, proceeded from behind a door on the -cracked panels of which the ten letters of the word Coffee Room tumbled -one against the other, like a row of drunken men. - -For a moment Sir John paused just outside that door, bending his ear to -listen in an attitude of deep attention, like one trying to catch one -special sound from out that confused babel which went on within. - -The passage in which he stood had been wholly dark but for the dim, -uncertain light which came from a brass lanthorn suspended from the -blackened ceiling just above his head. Sir John waited a second or two, -until a loud and merry shout of laughter rose above the bibulous din. -It was the laughter which comes from a young and lusty throat, the -laughter of careless irresponsibility and of thoughtless debauchery. - -It seemed to be also the sound for which Sir John had been waiting in -the ill-lighted passage outside, for now he threw up his head and flung -his cloak back with a gesture of satisfaction, whilst a strange laugh, -which had but little of merriment in it and a great deal of contempt, -broke from his lips as an echo to the light-hearted gaiety beyond. - -Sir John now continued his way, past the Coffee Room to a door beyond -the stairway at the extreme end of the passage. This he threw open -without further ceremony and found himself in that small room of the -tavern, wherein Master Foorde--the host--served his more distinguished -guests. As a rule merriment and noise, equal at least to that which -obtained in the public coffee room, reigned in this private sanctum: -many would have said that the great and courtly gentlemen who -foregathered here indulged usually in carouses and drunken orgies which -would have put the more plebeian merrimakers to shame. - -But to-night, at the moment that Ayloffe entered the room, a kind of -sullen silence reigned therein. Through the thick haze of tobacco -smoke which hung like a grey pall above the feebly flickering light -of some half dozen tallow candles, the newcomer could perceive four -faces--flushed with wine and heavy meats, dimly outlined against the -full greyness of drab-coloured walls, and dark oak wainscotting. - -The candles themselves guttering in their sockets threw forth fillets -of thick grimy smoke which mingled with the fumes of tobacco, and -helped to cast fantastic and trembling shadows on fine cloth surcoats -and vests of broidered silk. From the coffee room immediately adjoining -the parlour came--echoing faintly through the thick timbered walls--the -shouts of laughter, the loudly-uttered oaths, the ribald songs of the -merry company, and at intervals, against the tiny panes of the small -casement window the dull patter of the rain or the occasional distant -call of the watchman challenging an evening prowler. - -In the furthest angle of the room, my lord Rochester seated in the -chair of honour had apparently been reading aloud to this moody -company, the expressions of his latest poetic fancy. He was in the -act of rolling up his manuscript and tying it up with a length of -rose-coloured ribbon, but his face usually so self-satisfied and so gay -bore an expression of keen discontent. - -As a rule his poems--highly prized by the king and the ladies--were -listened to here among the circle of his intimates with the greatest -delight and oft with noisy appreciation. But on this occasion he had -been quite unable to hold the attention of his audience, and even -whilst he read his most impassioned verses he could not help but notice -that all eyes were fixed on the young Earl of Stowmaries, who sat with -his head resting in his hand, leaning forward half across the table in -an attitude of the deepest dejection. - -The young man had arrived late, only joining the convivial party when -supper was already at an end, and Mistress Foorde had removed the -remains of the finest venison pie which she had ever concocted. - -He had taken his place at the table after a curt and sullen nod to -the company who had greeted him most sympathetically. He had declared -himself unable to eat, but had ordered a bottle of strong sherry -and also a bottle of brandy, which expensive liquid--so 'twas said -afterwards by some of the company present--he freely mixed with sherry -and drank very plentifully. - -The story of his unfortunate early marriage and of his hopeless passion -for Mistress Julia Peyton had somehow or other leaked out, and before -his arrival had been freely discussed in a facetious and irresponsible -spirit. - -"Old Rowley liked the tale, and was vastly amused thereby," Lord -Rochester had said, thus unceremoniously referring to the merry -King of England. "I told it him in all its bearings, and he laughed -immoderately at thought of a tailor's wench being actually married -to my lord of Stowmaries, and expecting to be presented at Court. But -after that first outburst of hilarity he looked very grave and said -that the matter must presently be arranged to the satisfaction of all -those concerned." - -"But how can that be done?" queried Sir Anthony Wykeham, who was a -strict Catholic and liked not this light talk of breaking marriage vows. - -"Bah! money will do a great deal nowadays," sighed Sir Knaith Bullock, -a young Irishman but scantily blessed with the commodity. - -"As for me," quoth my lord Rochester with easy bonhomme, "I am on -the side of the angels. Mistress Julia Peyton is the most beautiful -woman in London. She at any rate would be worthy to become chatelaine -of Maries Castle and to be our hostess in the many feasts to be -given there to my lord of Stowmaries' friends. As for a tailor's -daughter!--Bah!--gentlemen, I ask you, can we see ourselves being -entertained by a tailor's daughter? She would feed us on pottage and -small beer--" - -A roar of laughter greeted this exposé of the situation. Lord Rochester -had of a truth voiced the opinion of the majority. - -"But--" protested Sir Anthony Wykeham. - -"Tush man," interrupted my lord with scant ceremony. "I know what you -would say. The marriage sacrament and all that--Odd's fish! we are none -of us heathens, and ye Papists are not the only ones, by my faith! -who know how to keep vows. But there are other ways of unravelling -an undesired tangle--and old Rowley had no thought of suggesting -irreligious measures--" - -"Hush!" said one of the others suddenly, "I hear Stowmaries' voice -outside. I fancy he'll not be in a mood for jesting over the matter." - -It was at this point that Stowmaries had entered the room. There was -no doubt that he looked excessively glum, and the first attempts at -treating his disappointed love in a hilarious manner were met with such -obvious moodiness, that gradually the subject was dropped, and the -company, who at supper had been fairly numerous, soon began to dwindle -away, each seeking in turn more cheerful society than that of this -sober young man who seemed determined to look at his own future life in -its very blackest aspect. - -Only Lord Rochester remained awhile longer for he wanted an audience -for his latest poem, also Sir Anthony Wykeham--an intimate friend of -my lord Stowmaries--and Sir Knaith Bullock, an irresponsible youth -who seemed to scent an adventure in the romantic child-marriage, and -vaguely hoped to find sport therein. - -These three gentlemen with Lord Stowmaries himself formed the little -group around the table of the private parlour at the "Three Bears" at -the moment that Sir John Ayloffe entered it. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - I was a nameless man; you needed me: - Why did I proffer you my aid? there stood - A certain pretty cousin at your side. - --BROWNING. - - -With a quick glance thrown on each of the four faces, shrewd Sir John -had quickly appraised the mood of this small clique. Stowmaries in -sullen rage against the whole world because of this thwarting of his -most cherished desire, Rochester and the Irishman, flippant and eager -for sport, with Wykeham as the sobering influence, the self-constituted -guardian of religious obligations. - -It was also obvious to this keen observer of other people's moods that -there would be no need for circumlocution. Though silence reigned in -the room, the subject of Stowmaries' marriage was uppermost in the -minds of his friends. - -Sir John therefore, having thrown aside his hat and cloak, went boldly -up to the table and greeting the others with easy familiarity, he -placed one fleshy hand on Stowmaries' shoulder and said abruptly: - -"Tush man! be not so downhearted. My faith on it! have I not seen worse -plights even than yours? Yet from which a man of daring and resource -soon found a means of extricating himself." - -The interruption was a welcome one, for though Sir John Ayloffe was no -longer very popular with the gilded clique of young and noble rakes, -since he was known to be at his last resources and was oft in sore -straits to pay his gaming debts, nevertheless at this moment his lusty, -cheery voice helped to dissipate the gloom which was such an unusual -atmosphere for these ribald pleasure-seekers to breathe, and one or two -voices with obvious signs of relief cordially invited the newcomer to -sit. - -"Then you, too, know our friend's melancholy story?" queried Lord -Rochester as he pushed with hospitable intent a mug of wine in the -direction of Ayloffe. - -"Yes," replied the latter. "Mistress Julia Peyton is my kinswoman. 'Tis -from her I heard the tale." - -Stowmaries' frown grew even darker than before. He liked not the -suggestion thus implied, the more than obvious hint of this second -sentimental complication in his life. - -Sir John, in the meanwhile, had selected a chair, which was less -rickety than most, and sat down deliberately in such a position that -not one of the flickering and uncertain rays of candle light touched -his face or illumined its expression. - -He took the cup of wine offered him by my lord Rochester and drank it -down slowly and at one draught, the while a few ribald remarks flew -across the table. Ayloffe's advent seemed certainly to have brought a -new atmosphere into the room. Despite Stowmaries' frown and Wykeham's -protests, Rochester and Sir Knaith took up the lighter side of the past -events; they refused to appreciate the solemnity of the subject or the -serious obligations resulting from that solemn sacrament of matrimony -performed between children over eighteen years ago. - -Sir John waited patiently whilst a volley of somewhat coarse jests was -fired at the gloomy hero of the romantic adventure, and until he saw -that Stowmaries was on the verge of losing his temper, and Wykeham on -the point of quarrelling with Bullock. - -Then he pushed the empty cup away from him and leaning forward across -the table, he broke in quietly: "Nay Sir Anthony," he said with -pleasing urbanity, "we all know what you would say. 'Sdeath! an I -mistake not you have harped on that string passing often in the last -hour or so, and we all know too that Lord Stowmaries is not desirous -of seeing it snap. But I maintain that if a gentleman is placed in so -terrible a predicament as is my lord, then it is the duty of all his -friends to try and effect an honourable rescue." - -The earnestness with which he spoke had silenced the jocose as well as -the moody tongues. But Sir Anthony Wykeham now protested hotly. - -"That is impossible," he said. "The sacrament of marriage cannot be set -aside." - -"Only under certain conditions," corrected Sir John. - -"Methinks this is braggart's talk," muttered young Bullock who had no -love for the older man. - -"How will you do it?" queried Stowmaries with moody hopelessness. - -"With his tongue chiefly," sneered the Irishman. - -But Ayloffe seemed in no way abashed by the hostility, which his -statement had evoked; he returned the sarcastic or angry glances -levelled at him with a stare of assurance. - -Leaning heavily upon the table, his prominent eyes fixed boldly on -the over-excited faces before him, he looked a strange contrast to -the small, chattering crowd which was grouped around him. Unlike the -others, he had supped soberly at home and drunk little or no wine; his -head was clear, his tongue glib, and the only uncertainty apparent in -his demeanour was that with which from time to time he seemed to be -listening to the noise in the next room; then a look of vague doubt -would suddenly overshadow his steady gaze and cause a more furtive, -more anxious look to creep into his eyes. - -"Nay, gentlemen," he resumed after a slight pause vaguely smiling in -a condescending manner like one who tells an obvious fact to a child, -"'tis no braggart's talk to speak of saving a friend from the most dire -calamity that can befall any man. I repeat most emphatically that this -can be done, effectually and easily and without interfering with any of -those religious scruples which do my lord of Stowmaries and his friend -here so much honour." - -He spoke so quietly, so confidently and with such an air of certitude -that instinctively the sneering tongues ceased to aim their shafts at -him and four pairs of eyes were now fixed upon the speaker, who with a -calm gesture of indifference was readjusting the lace of his cravat. - -He waited thus for awhile like the true entertainer who husbands his -effects; he waited until the circle round him drew closer and closer, -until four pairs of elbows rested on the table and flagons and mugs -were impatiently pushed aside. - -Sir Anthony Wykeham was the last to hold aloof, but even he said at -last with a distinct ring of excitement in his voice: - -"Tell us more fully what you mean, man! Cannot you see that Stowmaries -is devoured with impatience?" - -"An impatience which I am over-anxious to relieve," rejoined Ayloffe -imperturbably, "but firstly let me ask Lord Stowmaries himself--who I -assert is a wealthy man--whether he would not give a good tenth of his -fortune to be conveniently rid of an unwelcome wife, without hindrance -to his belief or conscience." - -"I would give half my fortune, good Sir John," sighed Stowmaries -dolefully. - -"Half is too much, good my lord," responded Sir John blandly. "Popular -rumour deems your lordship worth some four hundred thousand pounds in -solid cash, besides the rent rolls of half Hertfordshire. Methinks one -fourth of that should purchase the freedom which you seek." - -"Are you minded to earn that fortune, Sir John?" asked the other not -without a sneer. - -"Nay, my lord, I am neither young enough, nor sufficiently -well-favoured for that desirable task," retorted Sir John imperturbably. - -"What have looks or favours to do with it all? Odd's fish!" growled -Stowmaries more vehemently, and bringing a clenched fist crashing down -upon the table so that mugs and bottles rattled, "meseems that you, -Sir John, are trying to fool me, God help me! are even trying to bring -ridicule upon my sorrow! By the Mass, sir, if that be so, you'll not -find me in a mood to be trifled with." - -"Good my lord, I pray you to calm your temper. Am I a man to trifle -with your feelings? Have I not professed myself to be your friend? am I -not the kinsman of the lady whom you have honoured with your addresses? -On mine honour I have her welfare at heart even more so than yours. Can -you wonder that I should wish to see you wed her?" - -Shrewd Sir John had played a trump card. There was no denying the logic -of his statement. He had owned to having much at stake, yet had done -so with no lack of dignity. With a certain graciousness not altogether -free as yet from his original surliness, Lord Stowmaries owned himself -in the wrong. - -"You must pardon my evil temper, Sir John," he said with a -self-deprecating sigh, "for I am vastly troubled." - -This brief interlude had but whetted the curiosity of the others. From -Sir John's manner and mode of speech it was fully evident now that his -was no empty talk, but that he had assuredly come here this night, with -some definite plan for what he termed the welfare of his kinswoman, -which no doubt he had much at heart. - -The idea pleased these young pleasure-seekers more and more; they cared -of a truth but little for the troubles of their friends, but there -was now a twinkle in Ayloffe's eyes which vaguely suggested to them -the thought of intrigue, mayhap of some adventure, quite unavowable, -possibly highly scandalous, which would have that unknown tailor's -daughter for its victim. - -Such adventures were the delight of the merry monarch who now sat upon -the English throne, whose advent had been so earnestly desired, whose -personality had been so ardently worshipped. He it was who set the -fashion for those gallant episodes which were the boast and delectation -of men and the shame and the sorrow of women. But for him and the -example set by him I doubt if Sir John Ayloffe would ever have thought -of formulating proposals which should have put his present companions -to the blush, and which carried subsequently in their train agonies of -remorse and of disgrace, wounded honour and more than one broken heart. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - Strictly, 'tis what good people style untruth - But yet, so far, not quite the full-grown thing! - --BROWNING. - - -Sir John Ayloffe leaned back in his chair, and satisfied that he once -more held the close attention of the company, he resumed pleasantly: - -"Will you, good my lord, and all of you gallant gentlemen grant me five -minutes wherein to place before you the situation as it at present -stands? Here is my lord of Stowmaries tied by so-called indissoluble -marriage vows to a bride whom he doth not desire for wife, and whom -he last saw borne away kicking and screaming in the arms of a waiting -wench. And there over in Paris is the daughter of a worthy tailor, -a girl born in a back shop, presumably ill-favoured and certainly -vulgar, but who has pretensions of being Countess of Stowmaries _de -facto_ as well as _de jure_. She it was who eighteen years ago was as -aforesaid borne away kicking and screaming in the arms of a waiting -wench. She was then not much more than twelve months of age, and has -not since that moment seen my lord of Stowmaries here, our gracious, -if--momentarily--somewhat troubled friend." - -A sneering grunt from Sir Knaith Bullock, a groan from Stowmaries and -a murmur of assent from the others were audible whilst Sir John paused -for breath. - -"The Catholic Church for which we all have deep respect," continued -Ayloffe, "doth not allow that the bonds of matrimony thus contracted -eighteen years ago shall be severed just because my lord of Stowmaries -doth not happen for the moment to have a desire for the tailor's -daughter; she having done naught to merit repudiation, since her being -carried away kicking and screaming from the presence of her lord when -her age had not reached fifteen months, doth not constitute a serious -offence in the eyes of the law." - -"We know all that, man, we know all that," quoth Stowmaries moodily, -"and by the Mass you repeat yourself like a country parson in the -pulpit." - -"Gently, good my lord," rejoined Ayloffe imperturbably. "What I have -to say is a somewhat delicate matter. I am dealing with a Countess of -Stowmaries--and if you did not accept my scheme--" - -He paused and shrugged his shoulders in token of self-deprecation. - -"It may not after all meet with your favour." - -"Out with it, man--out with it," came, partly gaily, wholly impatiently -from every side. - -"'Tis simple enough," said Sir John, "but were easier to say an you, -gentlemen, would help me by guessing--My lord of Stowmaries hath not -seen his bride, nor was he seen by her, since she was little more than -a year old--that is so, my lord, is it not?" - -"It is," assented Stowmaries curtly. - -"Impressions at that age are not lasting. Infantile memory doth not -hold an image. We may assume that if the tailor's daughter were placed -in the presence of--er--of any gentleman of noble bearing, she would -not know if he were her lord--or not." - -There was silence around the table now. Neither assent nor dissent -followed Ayloffe's last words. On the face of the young Irishman -curiosity still remained impressed. The suggestion so slightly hinted -at had not yet reached his inner consciousness; on that of Lord -Rochester comprehension had just begun to dawn, a sense of astonishment -plainly struggled with one of doubt. But Sir Anthony Wykeham almost -imperceptibly drew his chair somewhat away from the table. - -Lord Stowmaries in the meanwhile kept his eyes steadily fixed on those -of Sir John. They expressed neither doubt nor astonishment, only -intense excitement, an obvious desire to hear that hint more fully -explained. It was his hoarse mutter "Go on! curse you--why don't you go -on?" that first broke the momentary silence which had fallen over the -small assembly. - -"Nay!" rejoined Ayloffe blandly, "I see that you, at least, my lord, -have already taken me. Is not my scheme vastly simple? The tailor's -daughter awaits her lord. He comes. She falls into his arms, and after -the usual festivities in the back shop of her estimable parents, the -bridegroom takes his bride home to far-off England. But mark what hath -occurred--it was not my lord of Stowmaries who had gone to claim his -bride, but some other man who prompted by his passion for the tailor's -beautiful daughter, a passion--we might even suppose--encouraged by -the lady herself, had impersonated the bridegroom and snatched the -golden prize despite my lord of Stowmaries and the most solemn vows -of matrimony contracted eighteen years ago. Imagine the result: the -shame, the crying scandal! My lord of Stowmaries is of a surety no -longer bound to acknowledge a wife whose very name will have become a -byword for every gossip to peck at, and whose virtue hath already been -the toy of an adventurer as unscrupulous as he was daring. Not the -Catholic Church, not the law of England, nor the decree of the Pope -would enforce the original marriage vows after that. I give you my -word, gentlemen, that my lord of Stowmaries will be granted leave by -every high tribunal, spiritual or temporal, to repudiate the wench who -had thus disgraced his name." - -Sir John Ayloffe had long finished speaking and silence still reigned -all around him. Even the noise in the next room seemed for the moment -unaccountably to have ceased. Folk say that when such silences occur -in merry company, angels fly across the room, and the flutter of their -wings can distinctly be heard. What angels then were these who haunted -the private room of the "Three Bears" now? What record of ignominy and -dishonour did they mark upon the tablets of infinity when with gentle -flutter of wings they passed silently by? To the credit of all these -gentlemen here present be it said, that their first feeling was one -of shame, when they fully understood the dastardly suggestion which -Sir John was making to one of themselves; but the shame was not acute -enough to produce horrified repudiation. - -Sir Anthony Wykeham certainly still held aloof, but Stowmaries had not -winced. That he understood the suggestion to the full, there could be -no doubt. His face had flushed to the roots of his hair, his fingers -were fidgeting nervously against one another and excitement verging on -intoxication caused his eyes to glow with an unnatural inward fire. His -thoughts had flown straight back to the prettily furnished parlour in -Holborn Row, to Mistress Julia Peyton's violet eyes and the exquisite -scent of her white hands when he had pressed them to his lips. His love -for her--call it passion or desire an you will--had grown in intensity -as the obstacle which separated him from her had seemed more and more -insurmountable. In the past few hours that same passion had reached a -stage of fever heat, impatient at control, chafing at impotence and -longing for satisfaction with all the strength of thwarted desire. - -Rupert Kestyon, Earl of Stowmaries and Riveaulx, had been brought -up in the hard school of colonial life; in his boyhood he had been -denied every kind of pleasure and luxury in which the sense of youth -revels, through what he called an unjust Fate; then suddenly he had -seen himself thrown in the very lap of Fortune, his every desire -satisfied and his every whim made law. The change was sudden enough to -throw off its balance a more firm character than that of the son of -Captain Kestyon--spendthrift, profligate, a rogue from temperament. -Like his father's, Rupert's was essentially a weak nature. He had -never attempted to fight Fate, when Fate was against him. When -Fortune smiled, he took everything she offered him without attempt at -restraint;--and the jade had become very lavish with her gifts to the -young outcast who awhile ago had often enough been obliged to tighten -his belt against the gnawing pangs of hunger. - -He had found friends, followers, sycophants; had been favoured by -royalty and smiled on by beauty, but Mistress Peyton was the first -passion in his life. He had flirted with her for months, made easy -love to her for weeks, but he had not realised that he loved her until -twenty-four hours ago when he knew that she was lost to him. - -The knowledge that here was the chief desire of his heart, and that -this desire he could not gratify, despite his position, his personality -and his wealth, almost unhinged his mind. It was two years now since he -had exercised any self-denial. He had lost all knowledge of that useful -art, and was determined not to learn it again. - -The day on which he heard that through an appalling catastrophe, which -had swept his kindred into the sea and broken the heart of an old man, -he, Rupert Kestyon, the penniless son of a spendthrift father, had -become rich, influential, one of the greatest gentlemen in the kingdom, -he had said with a sigh of genuine satisfaction: "Now I mean to live!" -and with him living meant solely the gratification of his every wish. -Now he saw his greatest wish in all the world born only to be thwarted. - -It was monstrous, unthinkable! But from that wholesome fear of -ecclesiastical authority peculiar in those days to men of his creed, he -would have rebelled. Respect for the Church to which he belonged, dread -of a scandal which might tarnish the great name he bore, and undermine -his pleasant position alone caused him to be submissive. - -He was not clever enough to find out a means of freeing himself from -irksome bonds, and had drained the cup of despair to its bitter dregs -without thinking or even hoping for an issue out of his misery. - -But now a man spoke--a man whom in his saner moments he heartily -despised, whom he knew to be shiftless, unscrupulous, a born -gambler--but yet a man who showed him a way out of the quagmire of -despair into a possible haven of hope. - -He had not been long in catching Ayloffe's meaning. Whilst the others -doubted he had already seen the possibilities of success. His bride had -never seen him since consciousness grew into her brain; her parents' -only recollections of himself dated back eighteen years! Why indeed -should not some other man impersonate the bridegroom, carry the bride -away and thus forever after leave on her fair maiden name a stain which -would render her unfit to be acknowledged as the wife of any honourable -gentleman? - -How simple it all seemed! - -Unlike his friends here present, Stowmaries saw no shame in the -scheme--no shame, let us say to himself! Disgrace to the woman--yes! -but he did not know her, and he hated the very thought of her! Disgrace -perhaps to the scoundrel who would undertake the ignoble treachery! -but to the Earl of Stowmaries who would sit quietly at home whilst the -roguery was being carried on by others?--'Sblood! who would suggest -such a ridiculous idea? - -His eyes wandered round the table. Sir Anthony Wykeham was no -longer frowning and Lord Rochester had laughed--a little nervously -perhaps--but no one had actually protested. - -There was no gainsaying the fact that Ayloffe was a rogue to suggest -so profligate a scheme, but profligacy was all the rage now and vastly -pleased the King. - -"By Gad, a mad notion!--But a right merry one!" quoth Sir Knaith -Bullock, himself a rogue and as full of dare-devil schemes as an egg is -full of meat. - -The remark loudly spoken and accompanied by a blasphemous oath and -the loud banging of a clenched fist against the table, eased the -tension finally. Even Wykeham began to laugh. Not one of these young -men here had wanted to feel ashamed, rather did each one desire to -seem a vast deal worse than his neighbour. It was no good allowing the -recollections of early lessons in chivalry to mar the enjoyment of the -present merry life; not even if those lessons had been taught by a -father who had died fighting for King and cause. - -Let the ball of pleasure be set rolling; that ball partly made up of -love of devilry, partly of ennui seeking for amusement and of contempt -for woman's virtue. - -"'Twere rare sport!" said Rochester. - -Sport! The word acted like magic and shame was completely vanquished by -the pleasing sense of excitement. - -Bah! what was the virtue, the fair name, the happiness of a tailor's -daughter worth, in the face of the vastly pleasing entertainment she -herself would provide for her betters. - -"An ignoble trick to play on a woman," murmured Wykeham. - -But his protest had become very feeble. He saw nothing in the -suggestion that shocked his religious scruples, for the rest he cared -but little. The victim was only a tailor's daughter after all, and -Stowmaries--his friend--would not be the one to repudiate his marriage -vows. - -"Bah! a tailor's daughter!" was the gist of the argument in favour of -the scheme. - -"She shall have full compensation," quoth my lord Stowmaries somewhat -tonelessly, for his throat felt parched and his tongue seemed to be -several sizes too large for his mouth. - -He drank down a large bumper full of sherry into which Ayloffe had -unobtrusively thrown a dash of raw brandy. - -"Have you forgotten, gentlemen," now said gallant Sir John lustily, -"that my lord of Stowmaries will give seventy thousand pounds to the -friend who will help him in his need. A fortune methinks, which should -tempt any young gallant in search of romantic adventure and a pretty -wife." - -"But the details, man! the details!" came from every side, "surely you -have thought of them!" - -"And of the risks!" suggested Lord Rochester, who was practical, and -who had oft suffered because of his gallant adventures. - -"There are no risks, gentlemen," quoth Sir John Ayloffe, "not to us -at any rate, nor yet to my lord Stowmaries. As for the tailor and -his family, believe me they will be so covered with ridicule, that -they will not cause his lordship a moment's anxiety. Just think on -it! To give away one's daughter to a man who is not her husband! to -greet him with festivities and merrimaking, to kill the fatted calf -in honour of the man who brings dishonour into one's home! Nay! Nay! -The breeches-maker of Paris will have cause to keep silent after the -adventure. The maid perchance will retire into a convent, and the -gallant adventurer can brave the world in comfort with seventy thousand -pounds in his pocket." - -"Bravo! Well said!--But the details?--how will you work, it, Ayloffe?" - -Obviously the scheme was commending itself more and more to these -over-heated brains. There were no shame-faced looks round the table -now. Stowmaries did not speak; his excitement was too keen to find vent -in words, and he was shrewd enough to realise at once that Ayloffe did -not mean to give away the details of his plans to this trio of young -addle-pated rakes. - -But cries of "The details, man, the details!" became more and more -insistent. Sir John, glass in hand, at last rose in response. - -"The details are simple enough, gentlemen, and now that I have your -approbation, I will be quick enough in working them out. In the -meanwhile let us drink to the gallant adventurer who must help us in -our scheme. We do not yet know his name, who he is or whence he comes; -the fairy Prince who will free my lord Stowmaries from irksome bondage -and the tailor's daughter from the fetters of a respectable home. What -we do know is that this Prince must be young, else he could not pass -for milor of Stowmaries, he must be well-favoured, else the lady might -fight shy of him; but he may be as poor as the proverbial church -mouse, since seventy thousand pounds, and the fortune of the richest -tailor in Paris are jointly to be his. Come, gentlemen, will you take -my toast?" - -Loud banging of pewter mugs against the deal table greeted this merry -sally. The young men jumped to their feet. - -"To him! To the unknown!" they shouted laughing with one accord. There -were loud calls for Master Foorde, and confused orders for more Spanish -wine. Sir John called for brandy, and anon when the worthy hosteler -filled the bumpers all round the table, Ayloffe followed him adding -brandy here and there to the wine, laughingly insistent, praising -the quality of the liquor for inducing to gaiety and all the elegant -qualities of amiable drunkenness so fashionable in a gentleman of the -period. - -He was quite clever enough not to make any further direct allusions to -the scheme, the realisation of which meant the transference of twelve -thousand pounds from Mistress Julia Peyton's pocket into his own. So -far he had gained the first stake in the game which he had set himself -to play, and was content for the moment merely to addle still further -the heads of these young reprobates by wild talks of adventure, and -sly allusions to the delights of coming scandal, mixed with sweeping -sarcasm directed at feminine virtue in general and the morals of the -Paris bourgeoisie in particular. - -He knew well enough that Stowmaries was at one with him by now, but -that he never would have succeeded in persuading the young man to enter -into such villainous schemes, if he had been alone with him. - -Away from the glamour of his rakish friends, of the atmosphere of the -tavern, of the smell of wine and tobacco, Stowmaries' better nature -and the inherited instincts of honour would have rebelled against -the roguery. Any of these young men here present would individually -have repudiated the monstrous proposal whilst collectively they were -over-ready to trample on any nascent idea of chivalry, each one ashamed -to be called squeamish or Puritanical by the other. There was nothing -really depraved in these young men, only a desire to outdo each other -in profligacy, in a show of anti-Puritanism, the immediate outcome of -the enforced restraint of the past generation. - -Ayloffe knew this, and, therefore, he had chosen the supper hour, and -the presence of a select number of the worst rakes in London--Rochester -and Bullock--for testing Stowmaries' willingness to enter into his own -villainous scheme. He wanted the support of confused brains, of rowdy -excitement, of shouts and of laughter to drown the preliminary call of -conscience. This once smothered, would probably never lift a warning -voice again, and details could be comfortably settled in private later -on. - -"Believe me, gentlemen," he said gaily, "that that tailor's minx will -thank us all on her knees for the entertainment which we will provide -for her. Odd's fish and I mistake not she hath but little stomach for -becoming an honourable British matron, and you may be sure that 'tis -only her parents who force her into an unwelcome marriage. We shall be -the rescuers of beauty in distress, and will provide the wench with -such an adventure as will draw the eyes of half Europe upon her and -give her that notoriety which all women prize far beyond those virtues -which are only vaunted by the old and ugly ones of their own sex. A -bumper on it, gentlemen! I pledge the tailor's minx, ill-favoured -though she be--my word on that! she'll become the talk of London--I -drink to her adventure--and to the bold man who will share in it--By -my halidame, were I but twenty years younger, I'd apply for the post -myself." - -Ayloffe's irresponsible talk, and the heady wines mixed with alcohol -completed the work of destruction. Lord Stowmaries and his friends -contrived within the next hour or so to lose more self-respect than -their fathers had gained in a lifetime through sublime adherence to a -forlorn cause. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - But indeed words are very rascals since bonds disgrace them. - --TWELFTH NIGHT III. 1. - - -I think that we shall have to accept Sir Anthony Wykeham's account of -how the proceedings finally terminated. He avers that by the time the -church clock of St. Clement's had struck the hour of ten, Sir John -Ayloffe was the only man present in that small private room who could -at all be called sober. - -At that hour my lord of Rochester it seems lay right across the table -with flushed face hidden in the bend of the elbow, snoring lustily -at intervals and at others lifting a heavy head in order to hurl a -bibulous remark at impassive Sir John or over-excited Stowmaries: Sir -Knaith Bullock had quite frankly exchanged the rickety incertitude of -Master Foorde's chairs for the more solid level of the floor, where -after sundry struggles with a tiresome cravat and a persistently wry -perruque he lay amidst the straw and the unsavoury postprandial debris -that littered it, in comfort and security. - -Wykeham, according to his own account, had lapsed into somnolent -sulkiness, vaguely listening to the ribald jests and coarse oaths -uttered by the others, and to the monotonous murmur of Sir John's voice -as he explained the details of his scheme to Stowmaries. - -The latter had certainly drunk more brandy than was good for the -clearness of his brain. Excitement, too, had wrought upon his blood, -with the result that the events of this night took on the garb of some -over-vivid dream: but, as soon as he realised that his perceptions -were becoming too confused to take in Ayloffe's varied suggestions, he -made a vigorous effort to regain possession of himself. He called for -a bowl of iced water, and dashed its contents into his face and across -his eyes. After that he steadily refused to drink any more, nor did Sir -John press him any further. - -The insinuating poison had done its work: there was no fear now that -Stowmaries would wish to draw back. - -"I pray you draw your chair nearer, my lord," said Ayloffe after awhile -when of a truth he saw that the rest of the company was quite helpless, -"these gentlemen are not like to disturb us now." - -With unaccountable reluctance Stowmaries did as the older man bade him, -and presently the two men withdrew altogether from out the circle of -dim light thrown by the guttering tallow candles. - -"Your lordship, I take it then, agrees with the broad basis of my -scheme," said Ayloffe, speaking quite low, only just above a whisper. -"You are anxious to free yourself from this undesired marriage, and -you think that my suggestion is one which will most easily help you to -accomplish this purpose?" - -"That is so," assented Stowmaries readily. - -"On the other hand," continued Ayloffe, "your lordship is prepared to -pay the sum of seventy thousand pounds to the man who will impersonate -your lordship in the house of M. Legros, merchant tailor of Paris, -who will--in your name and person--claim the Legros girl as his wife, -and go through the necessary civil and religious ceremonies that will -ratify the original marriage; and, finally, who will undertake not to -reveal his own identity to the tailor's daughter until you, my lord, -will grant him leave. For these services," concluded Sir John with -emphasis, "is your lordship prepared to pay the vast sum of seventy -thousand pounds?" - -"More than that," replied Stowmaries in an excited whisper, which -rendered his voice hoarse and his tongue stiff and parched. "More than -that and money down: fifty thousand pounds on that day that he signs -and seals the bargain with me, and starts on his errand for Paris, and -a further seventy thousand on the day that the tailor's daughter leaves -her parents' home in his company. A hundred and twenty thousand pounds! -mine honour! my life upon it. But where in the name of Hell will you -find the man to take it?" - -By way of an immediate reply, Sir John placed a warning finger to his -mouth, then rose and beckoning to the other to follow him, he went to -the door which divided the private parlour from the public Coffee Room, -and throwing it open he pointed to the rowdy company who sat assembled -each side of the oblong trestle table. - -"Amongst that crowd," he whispered with an insinuating smile. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - Good-night, good sleep, good rest from sorrow - To these that shall not have good morrow. - --SWINBURNE. - - -At first when Sir John Ayloffe threw open the door of the public room, -Stowmaries was only conscious of an almost Satanic din; he certainly -could see nothing through the dense cloud of smoke which filled every -corner of the long, narrow hall. - -Gradually, however, his eyes, still dimmed from recent libations and -acute excitement, became accustomed to this haze-covered gloom, whilst -his ears distinguished isolated sounds, drunken songs, loud oaths or -hoarse laughter from out the deafening roar which surged towards him -like the noise of breakers against a rock. - -A narrow deal table ran from end to end of the room, from the main -door at the top to the small latticed window at the bottom. The floor -was strewn with rushes on which sprawled recumbent figures in various -stages of drunken sleep, in the very midst of a litter of debris, -broken glasses, overthrown mugs, patches of spilt wine or ale, bones -and remnants of pastry and of bread--all evil-smelling and unspeakably -dirty. On the table itself the remnants of pies and cooked meats, and a -forest of empty mugs and bottles. One by one the tallow candles which -had been placed at intervals throughout the whole length of the table -had thrown up their last flicker of feeble light, had spluttered their -last with a hissing sound and finally died out in a column of grimy -smoke. - -There were but some half dozen or so left now, which threw uncertain -yellow gleams through the thick veil of tobacco fumes, on the prostrate -figures that sprawled across the table, on overthrown goblets and jugs, -on all the unsavoury debris--remnants of the past orgy. - -The rest of the room was in darkness, and through the gloom the figure -of a young man, with flushed face and dark brown hair innocent of -perruque, moved backwards and forwards to the rhythmic cadence of a -boisterous chorus of song. - -The draught from the badly-fastened window wafted the strips of -cotton which hung in lieu of curtains, straight into the room, with -a swishing, moaning sound around which--soft though it was--could -be heard like a long drawn-out sigh of pain, in the pauses of lusty -laughter and of ribald song. - -The storm outside seemed to have ceased, for, as the curtains blew away -from the window the pale, ghost-like streaks of moonbeams searched -the darkness of that end of the room and found here a fold of satin -tattered and frayed, there a broken paste buckle, or rusty sword hilt -on which to play its weird gamut of faint and ghoulish rays. - -The noise was incessant, merriment mixed with quarrelsome oaths, lively -songs alternating with hoarse shouts. All those who were not snoring -babbled incoherently, swore or sang; Irish brogue mingling with broad -Yorkshire tones, round Scotch oaths striking against Gaelic ones, -whilst from time to time, a noisome word loudly flung from end to end -of the table like a filthy rag would rouse one of the sleepers and -spur him to respond to the challenge with vile blasphemy. - -At times the clink of a sword would cut sharply through the buzzing -air, the beginnings of a quarrel, a volley of vituperations, a pewter -mug or half-empty bottle thrown right across the table scattering its -contents over tattered coats and already much-stained vests: then the -hoarse admonitions of the peacemakers, the first refrain of a song by -way of a diversion, more lively, more out of tune than before, and -laughter and jests once more reigned supreme. - -Stowmaries gazed on this scene, the while he still felt that somnolent -feeling of being in a dream, enveloping his senses. He heard the noise -and saw the figures swaying to and fro, moving on unsteady legs, in -and out of the narrow circles of yellow light like gnomes dancing the -figures of a saraband, in the anteroom of Hell. - -The figure of the young man at the extreme end of the room fascinated -him. He could not discern the face clearly, only as a flushed mask with -the pale moonbeams touching the dark hair with their ghostly rays. - -"'Tis your cousin Michael," whispered Ayloffe close to his ear. - -Stowmaries gave a sudden start. He understood now why Sir John had -shown him this scene, the picture of this rowdy crowd composed of the -ne'er-do-well, unclassed profligates who had flooded the country ever -since the Restoration, hurrying back to England from Flanders or from -Spain, under the guise of Royalist loyalty which had suffered exile for -the great cause, and was now eager and ready for reward. - -Boisterous, unscrupulous, disrespecters of persons and of dignity, they -traded on the people's avowed dislike of the canting Puritans who -had ruled in England for so long. Jeering, mocking and carousing they -filled London with their noise, the open scandal of their lives, the -disgrace of their conduct. - -By day they paraded the streets loudly singing licentious songs, -dressed in the rags and tatters of cavalier accoutrements long since -thrown away, seeking the peaceful citizen with the Puritan leanings, -who chanced to find himself in their way and holding him up to -ridicule, the butt of their uncontrolled merriment. - -By night they filled the taverns and coffee houses of the city and -only the small hours of the morning witnessed their final retirement -into the small brothels of evil repute where alone they could obtain -lodgings. - -There were hundreds of these men about the London streets during -the few years which followed the Restoration. The great plague had -decimated them somewhat, the fire of 1666 had scattered some of them -broadcast, but in this present year there were still a goodly number of -them about. They were the terror of the night watchmen and the despair -of the ill-organised and inefficient police-patrols, and rendered the -lesser streets of the city well-nigh impassable to quiet citizens and -to decent women. - -And it was amongst these men that Michael Kestyon was most often to be -found; shouting with them by day, drinking and gambling with them by -night. Michael Kestyon, cousin to my lord of Stowmaries and like him -descended from those who in mediæval days had writ their name largely -on the pages of history: Michael, the ne'er-do-well, the wastrel, the -profligate: Michael the idler who strove in such company to forget that -he had been born a gentleman, and that he held a claim to the title and -estates of Stowmaries which many thought was passing just. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - Oh, the strife - Of waves at the stone, some devil threw - In my life's mid-current thwarting God. - --BROWNING. - - -For Michael Kestyon was a man with a grievance. A just grievance enough -since many held that he and not his cousin Rupert should have been the -present Earl of Stowmaries. - -But possession in those far-off days was even more absolutely an -integral part of the law than it is now. Rupert Kestyon was _de facto_ -established at Maries Castle, whilst Michael had to begin life by -selling his sword or his skin to the highest bidder, and all because -his father and grandfather before him had been either very supine or -hideously neglectful of their own respective son's interests to enforce -the decree of King Edward III anent the family succession. - -That the decree existed no one attempted to deny; it was embodied -in a document which with other family archives was actually in the -possession of Michael Kestyon the pretender. These papers in fact were -the only inheritance bequeathed to him by his father, besides a legacy -of hatred and covetousness against the usurpers of the name and fortune -of Stowmaries. But ye shall judge if the reigning earls were usurpers -or not. - -It seems that in those distant days when Edward III reigned over -England and France, the then Lady of Stowmaries presented her lord -with twin boys, born within an hour of another. Fine boys they were, so -tradition hath it, well grown and sturdy and as like to one another as -two peas lying in the same pod. - -The fond mother as she gazed proudly upon these children--who of a -truth were each endowed with a powerful pair of lungs--little guessed -the mischief which their joint arrival would cause in the ancient and -noble family of Kestyon. - -According to the laws of military tenure, the eldest of these two -boys--older remember than his own brother only by a short hour or -so--should have been held to be the heir to the titles, dignities, -lands and appurtenances held in fief direct by the Lord of Stowmaries -from his suzerain liege Lord Edward III by the Grace of God King of -England and of France. - -But as evil chance--presided over by some imp of mischief--would have -it, the twins--when scarce a few hours old--being placed by my lady's -tiring-woman side by side in the bed, presently took to vigorous -quarrelling. My lady thereupon was much perturbed and her women were -all hastily summoned to her bedside, so that they might administer such -soothing draughts as were usual under the circumstances. - -When my lady was once more restored to her former quietude she asked -for her boys, requesting that the eldest be first placed in her arms. - -Alas! the mischief was done! The tiring-woman could not remember which -child she had lain on the right side of the bed, and which on the left, -nor could her astuteness combined with the adoring mother's searching -eyes state positively afterwards which boy was heir to the barony of -Stowmaries, and which the mere younger son. - -Imagine the confusion which ensued. Stories of innumerable quarrels -between the brothers as they grew up to boyhood's estate have been -handed down to their posterity. The father himself was at a loss what -to do. He had a great love for both his boys, and not knowing which was -the elder and which the younger son, he had a vast fear of doing an -injustice either to the one or to the other. - -What could he do but ask the advice and ascertain the wishes of his -suzerain liege? This we are told he did as soon as the children had -reached the mature age of ten and owed military service to their lord. - -King Edward III we all know was a model of justice and of sound common -sense. He declared it impossible that either of the boys should be -deprived of what might be his lawful inheritance. Therefore, by a -special decree signed by his own hand manual, he declared that on the -death of his faithful cousin, the Baron of Stowmaries, the title, -estates in fief or military tenure and other lands and appurtenances -thereof should devolve jointly on the twin sons of the said lord, and -that the first born child in the next generation should then once more -reunite in his own person the titles and estates of Stowmaries. - -Moreover the King decreed that if at any future time, a Lady of -Stowmaries should take it into her gracious head to present her lord -with twins, this same rule of succession should apply. - -Thus said His Majesty King Edward III, and my lord of Stowmaries was -thereby satisfied. The brothers were henceforth brought up as joint -heirs of one of the finest baronies in the Kingdom and we hear nothing -more of family feuds or dissensions. - -That the twins eventually did jointly succeed to their father's -title and estates we know from the records anent the twin Barons of -Stowmaries who fought under the banner of John of Gaunt in the days of -Richard II; and from the fact that King Henry IV in 1410 created the -then Baron of Stowmaries, Earl of Stowmaries and Riveaulx we may infer -that one of those turbulent twins did have a son who succeeded alone -to his father and uncle, and once more united in his own person all -dignities and lands belonging to the ancient family. - -Thus the carelessness of a tiring-wench had for the time being no -further serious consequences on the fortunes of the Kestyons. For some -generations to come it seemed that the ladies of Stowmaries had no -predilection for twins. But in the year 1552, so the family archives -tell us, the wife of John, Earl of Stowmaries--Grand Master of the -Ceremonies to King Edward VI--presented her lord with a sturdy pair of -boys. - -As like to one another as the proverbial peas were these two new scions -of the ancient family of Kestyon, and mightily proud of them was their -fond mother, but there never was any confusion as to their identity. -One of them--Rupert--was born fully two hours before his brother -Michael, and was ever after looked upon as his father's heir. Nor, on -the death of the Earl, did any one seem to have thought of disputing -his sole right to the title and estates of Stowmaries. - -Rupert succeeded his father and in his turn was succeeded by his son. -But what we do know as a certain fact is that Michael, the younger -twin, had a son born to him a full year before his elder brother took -unto himself a wife, and that if the decree of King Edward III had been -duly enforced by law, Rupert and Michael should have been joint Earls -of Stowmaries and it should have been Michael's son--the first born in -the next generation--who should have united the title and estates in -his own person. - -Why Michael did not endeavour to enforce the ancient decree of Edward -III we shall never know: there are neither letters nor other documents -to explain this supineness, which is all the more inexplicable since it -affected the future of his own son even more than his own. - -We are concerned with the present generation. With Rupert, Earl of -Stowmaries, the direct descendant of the older twin, and with Michael -Kestyon, the grandson of the younger. - -Such as I have related is the true history of the grievance which this -Michael nurtured against his cousin whom he deemed an usurper, and -against all his peers, kinsmen and fellow gentlemen for the injustice -which they abetted by admitting that usurper as one of themselves. - -But unlike his father and grandfather before him Michael was not -content to see any one else in possession of the family title and -estates, which of a truth should have been his. From his father he had -inherited among other family archives the mediæval document embodying -the decree of Edward III and bearing that monarch's signature. How -and wherefore this had remained as an heirloom in this branch of the -family, tradition does not tell us. The fact seems to suggest that the -younger twin--Michael--may have had some intention of enforcing his -son's claim at a future time--an intention, mayhap, frustrated by death. - -The man whom Lord Stowmaries saw at this moment, with flushed face and -unsteady voice singing ribald songs to the accompaniment of boisterous -laughter, chink of dice and sword, and blasphemous oaths, had at one -time taken up his own cause with ardent and heart-whole enthusiasm. - -At the age when boyhood first yields to maturity, Michael had lost his -father and thereupon had begun to fight for his rights, with all the -strength of a turbulent nature, full of instincts of luxury and driven -to penury through flagrant injustice. He had spent some of the best -years of his life, in a perpetual appeal to the King and to his peers -to try his cause and if necessary to find it just. But the King was -not fond of settling important questions himself and the Lords' House -of Parliament was overbusy re-establishing a number of its own lapsed -privileges to bother about a claimant with empty pockets. - -Driven from pillar to post, Michael appealed to Common Law, to Chancery -and to equity, setting up divers pleas in order to bring his case -within the jurisdiction of these respective Courts. He spent all his -substance in lawyer's fees, in sworn documents, in meeting constant -demands for bribery, the while his kinsman sat comfortably enthroned -at Maries Castle paying no heed to a claim, the justice of which one -attempted to deny yet which no one was able legally to enforce. - -Gradually as his pockets grew more and more empty, as constant rebuffs -took the edge off his optimism, Michael carried on the fight with less -and less hope if with unabated doggedness. - -In the intervals he had sold his sword and his skin to the highest -bidder, to Italy or Flanders, to the Emperor or to the King of France. -He had led the life of the adventurer, who knows not from day to day -whence will come the rations for the morrow, of the soldier of fortune -who has neither kindred nor home. - -His mother whom he adored--in his own turbulent passionate way--spent -a life of humble penury in a remote Kentish village. To this lowly -abode of peace Michael returned from time to time from his far-off -wanderings in Sicily or Spain; here he would spend some few days in -worshipping his mother, until the agony of seeing her patient and -serene within measurable sight of starvation drove him frantic from out -her doors. - -Then he would rush back to London and once more haunt the Courts and -the purlieus of Whitehall, swallowing his outbursts of pride in vain -supplications for a fresh hearing, in a mad desire to see the King, in -licking the dust before the feet of those who might help him to further -his cause. - -At those times self-deprecation would render him moody; his -pleasure-loving nature was swamped beneath the heavy pall of a mother's -want, a mother's sorrow and misery. He despised himself for being -unable to lift her out of such humiliating penury. She who should -be Countess of Stowmaries, one of the greatest ladies in the land, -scrubbed her own floors and oft lacked a meal, the while her son, the -able-bodied and reckless adventurer, was eating out his heart with the -shame of his own impotence. - -But what he could not accomplish whilst the scanty means left to him by -his father were still at his command, he was totally unable to obtain -now that he had not one stiver to offer to those who might have helped -him but whose palms seemed forever to be in want of grease. - -Blood-money abroad had also become more meagre. The King of France and -the Emperor had their own standing armies now, and had less need of -mercenary troops than of yore. Michael who in battle sought wounds as -another would seek cheap glory, was given but twenty crowns for a sword -thrust which he received at Fehrbellin whilst fighting for the Elector -of Brandenburg. - -He nearly died of the thrust, and afterwards of starvation, for -he sent the twenty crowns to his mother, and being considered too -enfeebled for active service, he could not immediately obtain further -enlistment. - -This was but one of the many episodes which had helped to make Michael -Kestyon what he now was. A bitter sense of wrong gnawed at his -heartstrings, the while he strove to hide his better nature beneath the -mask of boisterous gaiety, of a licentious life and reckless gambling. - -The buffetings of law officials, the corrupt practises of second rate -attorneys, the constant demands on his scanty purse now made up the sum -total of his dealings with humanity, when he was not actually in the -company of adventurers more profligate, more dissolute than himself. - -He saw the better world--that world which was composed of his own -kindred--turned, as if in arms against him. Not a friend to give him -help save at a price which he could not afford to pay. It was money and -always money: money which he could not get, and without which he saw -the last chance of getting a hearing for his case vanishing beyond his -reach. - -The descent from those early boyish days full of idealism and of hope, -down to the lowest rung of the social ladder, to the companionship of -gamesters and of drunkards, had been overcertain and none too slow. -Accustomed to the revelries of camp life, to that light-hearted gaiety -so full of exuberance to-day and oft the precursor of a bloody death on -the morrow, Michael found the England of the Restoration a mercenary -and inhospitable spot. - -Among his own kind, mockery of his vain endeavours; among the -others--the wastrels--a life of boisterous merrimaking which at any -rate made for forgetfulness. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues - And every tongue brings in a several tale, - And every tale condemns me for a villain. - --RICHARD III. V. 3. - - -In response to Ayloffe's whisper, Stowmaries had asked hurriedly: - -"Is this the man?" - -The older man nodded, and Stowmaries gazed long and searchingly upon -his cousin, vaguely wondering if Sir John's astuteness had pointed in -the right direction, if indeed this were the man most likely to lend -himself for a large sum of money to the furtherance of an ignoble -scheme. - -Stowmaries saw before him a man--still in the prime of life but on -whom dissipation, sleeplessness by night and starvation by day had -already boldly writ their impress; a man like unto himself in feature, -a distinct family resemblance being noticeable between the two cousins, -but in Michael Kestyon--the reckless adventurer--the evenly placid -expression born of a contented life had long ago yielded to the wild, -hunted look, the mirror of a turbulent soul. He wore a surcoat which -was obviously of rich cloth though the many vicissitudes of camp life -had left severe imprints upon its once immaculate surface: beneath this -coat there peeped out innocent of vest, the shirt, which once had been -wrought by loving fingers, of fine linen and delicate stitchery, but -now presented the appearance of a miscellaneous collection of tatters -and darns with here and there a dark stain on it, which spoke of more -than one sword thrust in the breast, of the miseries of that life of -fighting and of toil, of aches and pains and of ill-tended wounds. - -The rest of Michael's attire was in keeping with the surcoat and the -shirt: the faded silk sash long since deprived of tassels, the collar -free from starch, the breeches a veritable motley of patchwork, and -the high boots of untanned leather, stained a dark greenish brown from -exposure to constant damp. - -This then was the man who was most like to sell himself for so much -money, and Stowmaries noting the squalor of Michael's attire, the -dissipated yet wearied look in his face, ceased to wonder how it came -that Sir John had thought of this wastrel, and in his mind fully -approved of the choice. - -Suddenly Michael Kestyon caught sight of the two men standing under the -lintel of the door. He greeted them at once with a shout of welcome. - -"My worthy coz!" he said gaily, "and if I mistake not 'tis gallant Sir -John Ayloffe, the finest rogue that ever graced a court. Gentlemen!" -he continued mocking, and advancing with mincing and unsteady steps -towards the two men, "pray tell us--though by the Mass I call you -right welcome--what procures this humble abode the honour of such -distinguished company?" - -Whilst the young man spoke, most of his companions had ceased both song -and laughter; several faces--all flushed with heady liquor--were turned -towards the door, whilst glances wherein suspicion fought with the -confusing fumes of alcohol, were directed on the newcomers. - -But Sir John Ayloffe with determined good humour had returned Michael's -greeting with easy bonhomie. - -"Nay, friend Michael," he said, the while he prudently closed the door -behind him and Stowmaries, lest the noise in the coffee room awaken his -sleeping friends, "your amiable cousin and I myself were tired of the -sober assembly in the parlour and had desire for more merry company. I -hope your call of welcome was no mere empty word, and that of a truth -we may join your hospitable board." - -With much gravity Michael surveyed Ayloffe and Stowmaries up and down, -from the diamond buckles on their shoes to the elaborate curls of their -gigantic perruques; then he turned to his friends, who had followed his -every movement with that solemn attention peculiar to the drunkard, -which tries yet fails to comprehend what is going on before him. - -"What say you, gentlemen?" he said, "shall we admit these noble rogues -to our table? My cousin here, as you see, has but lately emerged from -the surveillance of his keeper, he inhabited a monkey garden for a -considerable time, and hath collected a vast amount of hair on his head -from the shavings of his many companions." - -A terrific and prolonged shout of laughter shook the very walls of the -room, the while Stowmaries, who suddenly had became pale with rage, -placed a quivering hand on the hilt of his sword. - -"Insolent beggar!--" he murmured in a hoarse voice, which, however, was -completely drowned in the bibulous noise which had greeted Michael's -impertinent sally and which rose and fell in a continuous roar for some -considerable time, the while Michael himself, satisfied at the effect -which he had produced, struck up the refrain of a drinking song. - -"In the name of the lady whom you honour with your love, good my -lord," whispered Ayloffe close to Stowmaries' ear and with impressive -earnestness, "I entreat you to keep your temper. We have need of this -wastrel for the success of our scheme, and a quarrel would of a surety -ruin it completely." - -Michael Kestyon now turned to his cousin once more. - -"I pray you take your seats, gentlemen," he said pointing with unsteady -gesture to a couple of empty chairs placed at the head of the table, -"though you may not be aware of it, my friends here have shown a -desire for the continuance of your presence amongst us. Had they not -desired it they would have shown their disapproval by various hints -more or less gentle, such as the throwing of a pewter mug at you or the -elevation of their toe to the level of your majestic persons. But as it -is ye may rest assured, ye are welcome here." - -"I thank you, good Michael," said Ayloffe pleasantly, as in response to -Michael's invitation he now advanced further into the room and took his -seat at the head of the board, followed by Stowmaries who was making -vain attempts to conceal his contempt of the proceedings, and to master -his ill-humour. - -"Indeed," continued Sir John addressing with gracious familiarity the -united company present, "I know not what we have done to deserve your -favours. Believe me, we came as suppliants desiring to be entertained -by the most noted merrimakers in London." - -Michael with the same mock gravity once more resumed his place at the -table close beside Sir John Ayloffe. He drew two mugs towards him and -from a gigantic pewter jug, he poured out full measures of a thick red -liquid, which had the appearance of spiced wine. - -The beverage certainly exhaled a remarkable methylic odour, which from -the nostrils seemed to strike straight into the brain making the blood -seethe in the head and the eyes glow as with the heat of running fire. -Moreover the mugs which Michael had filled, and then pushed towards the -newcomers were not over clean. Even Sir John had much ado to keep his -outward show of geniality and to mask his friend's more and more marked -impatience and disgust. - -"By the Mass, merry sirs," quoth Michael with boisterous hilarity, "an -you really desire to be of our company we will grant you admittance. -But first must ye pledge us in a full bumper of this nectar, concocted -by good Master Foorde for the complete undoing of his most favoured -guests. We drink to you, gentlemen, brother rogues an you please. If -you are saints do not drink. The liquid will poison you." - -"To you all, brother rogues," came in lusty accents from Sir John -Ayloffe as he jumped to his feet, bumper in hand, "and may you accept -us as two of the worst rogues that ever graced your hospitable board." - -He quaffed the sickly, very heady liquid at one draught. He had kept -himself uncommonly sober throughout the evening and the potion he knew -could not do him a great deal of harm. He had a solid head and was not -unused to the rough concoctions made up of cheap wines, of alcohol and -sundry spices wherewith these noisy louts were wont still further to -addle their over-confused pates. - -Stowmaries would have demurred, despite the warning look thrown at him -from beneath Sir John's heavy lids, but, looking up, he saw Michael's -deep-set eyes fixed upon him with a measure of amusement not altogether -free from sarcasm which vastly irritated him and without attempting to -hide his disgust he raised the heavy mug with a gesture of recklessness -and contempt and he too drank it down at one draught. - -There were loud shouts of approval at this, and the occasion was -further improved by more drinking and the singing of various snatches -culled from the most noted and most licentious songs. - -But Michael was now examining Sir John Ayloffe very attentively. The -latter having drunk expressed distinct appreciation of the beverage, -and even made pretence, as he once more resumed his seat, of asking for -more. - -"You are looking at me with strange persistence, good Michael," he said -at last with unalterable blandness, as he returned the younger man's -questioning gaze. - -"May not a cat look at a king," retorted the other lightly, "or a -beggar gaze on the exalted personality of Sir John Ayloffe?" - -"By all means, and welcome. But, on my faith, my personality is in no -wise exalted, therefore, I may be permitted to ask again what is the -cause of your flattering attention?" - -"Curiosity," replied Michael curtly. - -"Curiosity?" - -"Yes. I was wondering in my mind why you are here to-night, and why you -have brought mine estimable if somewhat weak-minded cousin with you -here, in the very midst of the most evil-reputed crowd in London?" - -"Oh!" protested Sir John gallantly, "'tis not the most evil-reputed -crowd by any means. We, who are accustomed to the profligate life of -a gentleman, look over leniently on the innocent if somewhat flashy -debaucheries of these pleasure-lovers here." - -"Yet are we no mere pleasure lovers, Sir John," said Michael with -a sudden air of seriousness which contrasted strangely with his -flushed face and his slovenly and ragged attire. "You see here before -you the very scum of humanity, the bits of flotsam and jetsam which -the tide of fortune throws upon the shores of life; tattered rags -of manhood, shattered lives, disappointed hopes! This room is full -of these wreckages, like morsels of poisonous seaweed or of empty -shells that litter the earth and make it foul with their noisome -putrefaction. Elegant gentlemen like you and my fair cousin here -should not join in this mêlée wherein crime falls against crime, and -moral foulness pollutes the air. We are rogues here, sir, all of us," -he added bringing his hand open-palmed crashing down upon the table, -"rogues that have long ago ceased to blush, rogues that shrink neither -before crime nor before shame. Rogues! rogues! all of us--not born so -remember, but made rogues because of some one else's crime, some one -else's shame!--but damned rogues for all that!" - -He drank another bumper full of spiced wine! He had spoken loudly and -hoarsely with wrathful eyes gazing straight ahead before him, as if -striving through the foul smoke and vitiated air of this den of thieves -to perceive that nook in a Kentish village, where in a tumble-down, -miserable cottage, a woman who should have been Countess of Stowmaries -was often on her knees scrubbing the tiled floors. - -But Stowmaries's laugh, loud and almost malignant, broke the trend of -Michael's thoughts. - -"Ay, ay! Well said!" he shouted as loudly, as hilariously as had done -the others. "Well said, Michael, for you at least, an rumour doth not -lie, are a damned rogue for all that!" - -"Nay! Nay!" interposed Ayloffe with mild amiability, "you do your -cousin Michael a grave injustice. I know that my lord of Rochester -would back me up in what I say. All these gentlemen here are rogues but -in name. They shout and they sing, they parade the streets and make -merry, but they are, of a truth, of a right good sort, and if only a -pleasing turn of fortune came their way, they would all become peaceful -citizens in a trice and forswear all their deeds of profligacy, of -which they are often cordially ashamed." - -'Twas Michael's turn to laugh. He threw back his head so that the -muscles of his neck stood out like cords, and he laughed loudly and -immoderately, with a laugh that had absolutely no mirth in it. - -"Ashamed of our roguery," he said at last, when that outburst had -ceased and he was once more learning forward across the table with -dark, glowing eyes wandering from one flushed face to another. "Hark at -him, gentlemen! Sir John Ayloffe here would make saints of us! Hark ye, -sir," he continued bringing his excited face close to that of Sir John, -"I for one delight in mine own roguery. I am what I am, do you hear? -what the buffetings of Fate and the injustice of man have made me. The -more my mealy-mouthed cousin here exults in his courtliness and in his -honour, the more do I glory in mine own disgrace. If _that_ is honour," -he said pointing with a trembling hand at Stowmaries who despite his -brave attire cut but a sorry figure at the present moment, for he felt -supremely ill at ease, "then am I content to be a rogue. The greater -the villainy, the prouder am I to accomplish it, and if I am to go to -Hell for it, then let my damnation be on the head of those who have -driven me thither." - -Stowmaries shrugged his shoulders in moody contempt. Sir John looked -like one profoundly impressed at an unforeseen aspect of affairs. - -"As for me," growled one of the men sulkily, "pay me for it and I'll -stick a knife into any person you list." - -He was an elderly man with a red face and straggly white hair. He had -been a scholar once, drunkenness and an inordinate love of gambling had -made him what he now was. - -"For ten golden sovereigns I'd poison the King!" quoth another thickly. - -"For less than that I'd sell my soul!" added another. - -"Thou canst not sell what thou hast not got," comes in a quick reply -from the further end of the table. - -"And you, friend Michael, what would you do for a fortune?" asked Sir -John returning Michael's gaze with a firm, earnest look. - -"I'd ask the devil to spare my cousin here!" replied Michael flippantly. - -"You would not play the part of an hired assassin, I am sure." - -"If I hated any one well enough, I'd kill him without pay," retorted -the other. - -"Or abduct a woman?" - -"An she pleased me, I'd not want money to tell her so." - -"Then meseems," sighed Sir John with a deprecating shrug of the -shoulders, "that I have come to the wrong man with mine offer." - -"There was no offer," quoth Michael curtly. - -"Ay! of a fortune," rejoined the other calmly. - -"Not a serious one." - -"As serious as mine own presence here." - -"You have come here prepared to make me an offer?" reiterated the -young man now, with contemptuous incredulity. - -"The offer of a fortune," reiterated Ayloffe quietly. - -"How much?" - -"One hundred and twenty thousand pounds." - -"One hundred--" - -"And twenty thousand pounds," repeated Sir John with slow emphasis. - -"Bah!--'tis a stupid and a purposeless lie!" - -And Michael striving to look indifferent leaned back in his chair, then -fell forward again with elbows resting heavily on the table the while -his eyes glowing with the excitement of heady liquor and the vague -suggestion only half expressed searched the face of the older man. - -"Who would give a ne'er-do-well one hundred and twenty thousand -pounds?" he reiterated in an unsteady voice, "and for what purpose? Are -you fooling me, Sir John?" - -"On my solemn word of honour, no!" asserted the latter calmly. - -"Then for what purpose?" repeated Michael, whilst a sneer which looked -almost evil for a moment quite distorted his face. "Am I to murder some -offending stranger in the dark? bribe the King's physician to poison -him, or turn informant against my cousin's co-religionists in England -as is the fashion nowadays? Well! tell me what it is? Have I not told -you that I am rogue enough to accomplish mine own damnation--at a -price." - -"My good Michael, you mistake my meaning. I propose no roguery unworthy -a gentleman. An you'll accept my offer you'd have no cause to regret -it, for you'd be a rich, happy and contented man to the last day of -your life." - -"An it were so simple as that, man," quoth Michael drily, "you'd have -no need to offer a fortune to a rogue in order to get what you want. As -for the rest, methinks that most rogueries are unworthy a gentleman. -But then you see I am no gentleman, else I were not here now, and -probably had long ere this flung my glove in your face. So out with -it--you offer me one hundred and twenty thousand pounds--for what?" - -Instinctively for the last five minutes or so as their conversation -drew into more serious channels, the two men had gradually dropped -their voices, speaking almost in a whisper. They had drawn their chairs -closely together to the corner of the table, with Lord Stowmaries -between them, silent and attentive. - -Sir John at this stage was sitting close to the end of the table, the -full length of which stretched out on his right. He raised his head now -and gave a quick glance at the rest of the assembly. - -Those of the revellers who were not wholly incapable, either sprawling -across the table, or lying prone upon the floor, had drawn up their -chairs in groups. The rattle of dice in boxes was distinctly audible -above the snoring of the sleepers, also muttered curses from the -gamblers who were losing and the clink of brass money passing from hand -to hand. Satisfied that the attention of the company had long since -wandered away from himself and Michael, he once more turned to the -young man and said quietly in response to that impatient: "For what?" - -"For marrying the pretty daughter of an amiable Paris bourgeois, the -wench being over-ready to fall into your arms." - -Michael made no movement but he studied Sir John's face, as if he -thought that the man was not completely sane, or had succumbed to the -fumes of spiced wine. - -"I do not understand," he murmured quite bewildered. - -"Must I repeat my words?" said Sir John imperturbably. "There is a -wench over in Paris, as pure and good as the day on which she lisped -her first Ave Maria at her mother's knee. For certain simple reasons -which you will hear anon, a husband must be found for her within the -next fourteen days. An you'll be that happy man there will be fifty -thousand pounds for you as soon as you agree to the bargain, and -seventy more on the day that you bring home the bride." - -"Yes! that sounds simple enough. But now tell me the hitch." - -"The hitch?" - -"Yes. The hitch which forces you to ask a blackguard like myself to -do the work for you. Why do you not become the happy man yourself for -instance?" - -"Oh! I am not young enough, nor yet well-favoured. The first fifty -thousand pounds will help to make of you the most dashing gallant in -the two kingdoms." - -"But why a blackguard?" persisted Michael with cutting sarcasm. He felt -agitated, even strangely excited. He was shrewd enough to see that Sir -John was not fooling him, that there was more than a mere undercurrent -of seriousness in this extraordinary offer made across this common -supper table. His fingers were beating an incessant tattoo upon the -boards, and his eyes restless, keen as those of a wild beast scenting a -trap, searched the face of his interlocutor. - -"Why a blackguard if the wench is a saint as you say, why a -blackguard?" he insisted. - -"A blackguard? Perish the thought!" said Sir John lightly. "Nay! -the reason why your personality commended itself to me and to my -lord of Stowmaries was because you are a gentleman, despite the many -vicissitudes of an adverse Fate, and that you would render the girl -happy and proud to be your wife." - -"Ah! my worthy cousin is a party to this game?" queried Michael with a -sneer. - -"In Heaven's name, man," he added with almost savage impatience, "why -cannot you speak up like a man? Cards on the table, by the Mass, or my -hand will come in contact with your mealy mouth--" - -He checked himself, angry at his own outburst of rage which he had been -unable to control. - -"Have I not said that I am on my way to Hell," he added more quietly, -"why should you hesitate to show me a short cut?" - -"Cards on the table, friend Michael, since you'll have it so," now -said Ayloffe in a quiet impressive whisper, "bear that one hundred and -twenty thousand pounds in your mind all the while you listen to me. -The wench over in Paris was made to go through a marriage ceremony -with your cousin here, eighteen years ago, when she was a babe in arms -and he a mere lad, unable to defend himself against this encroachment -on his future liberty. Since then my lord of Stowmaries has never met -his bride, nor did her parents--worthy yet mercenary tradespeople of -Paris--desire him to see their daughter. He was poor Rupert Kestyon -then, an undesirable son-in-law if ever there was one: they would -have broken the marriage then, only the Church would not allow it. -Then my lord became what he now is, rich, influential, desirable, and -promptly the Paris shopkeepers changed their tactics. They demanded -that your cousin shall acknowledge and take to his heart and home a -woman whom he has never seen, whom he can never love; for the affection -of his heart, of his whole manhood is pledged to another whom he -adores. In his despair my lord hath come to me and I am proud to be -his friend. I would help him to regain that liberty which an untoward -Fate hath fettered. Is not my lord a wholly innocent victim? He did -not ask to wed--for long he was spurned as one unworthy. Now because -he is rich, he is to be made the tool of rapacious bourgeois, who -would see their daughter Countess of Stowmaries. They have invoked -the aid of the Church who spurred by their gold hath threatened -anathema and excommunication on my lord. The King--sorely inclined to -Catholicism--will not hear of breaking marriage vows which he calls -solemn, and which under such circumstances sensible men cannot fail to -call a farce. My lord hath come to me and I have thought of a scheme--" - -So far Michael had listened with unswerving attention to this long -exposé delivered by Sir John in clear, even voice that was hardly -raised above a whisper. He had listened, his head resting in his right -hand, his left lying clenched and motionless on the table. But now he -interrupted Ayloffe's placid flow of eloquence. - -"You need not tell me your scheme, man," he said, "I have guessed it -already. I know now why you had need of a rogue for the furtherance -of your project. I, Michael Kestyon, am to go to Paris and there -impersonate my love-sick cousin, carry away the bride by that -trick, and thus forever so shame her, that a dissolution of that -child-marriage will readily be granted by Church and State." - -"And that for the sum of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds, friend -Michael! one hundred and twenty thousand pounds--a fortune that would -tempt a King!" added Sir John earnestly. - -Michael made no comment, and there was thus an instant's silence at -this end of the table where sat the three men: only a second or two -mayhap during which a blasphemous oath uttered at the further end of -the room seemed in some strange and occult way to mark the descent of a -soul one step further down on its way to Hell. One instant during which -the tempter watched the tempted, and from the giddy heights of future -satisfied ambition showed him the world conquered at the paltry price -of momentary dishonour. - -One fitful ray of a ghoulish moon searched, through a narrow slit -between swishing curtains, the fleshy face of Ayloffe, the descendant -of the Hebrew bondswoman; the thickly-lidded eyes fixed like those of -some poison-giving reptile upon the trapped victim. It played weird and -ghost-like upon the dull scarlet of his cloak, and made strange shadows -beneath his heavy brows, giving him an eerie, satanic expression, which -Stowmaries--whose brain was on fire--was quick to note. - -He shuddered and instinctively drew away. But Michael Keyston who had -not stirred a muscle, who had scarce breathed during that moment's -solemn pause, now leaned forward and said quietly: - -"For the sum of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds, I will do what -you wish." - -Then noting that the look of satisfaction on Stowmaries' face was not -wholly unmixed with contempt, he added with a quick return to his -flippant mood: - -"Nay, Cousin, look not so loftily from adown the giddy heights of -supposed integrity. 'Tis useless at this stage to despise the hand -that will help you in your need. Methinks that my share in the intrigue -is no more unavowable than your own. 'Tis you are married to the lady -and owe her protection, yet you offer money to further treachery -against her. Now I have never seen the wench and am no traitor to -her since I do not know her. I owe her no allegiance; she is but one -woman out of a million to me. Have you never tried to win a woman by -trickery, good Coz?" - -He spoke lightly, even gaily, only Sir John--the keen observer of his -fellowmen--noted that the laugh which accompanied this tirade had a -hollow ring in it, also that Michael after he had spoken drank down one -after another two large goblets full of wine. - -"Do not let us split hairs, gentlemen, over the meaning of a word," -said Ayloffe pleasantly. "Friend Michael, my hand on it. I devised -the scheme, and confess that my thoughts flew to you for its -accomplishment." He put out his hand, but Michael seemed to ignore -the gesture. With a shrug of the shoulders indicating good-tempered -toleration, the other continued glibly, "Let us own to it, gentlemen, -we are all rogues, every one of us here present; I, who made the -proposal, my lord of Stowmaries who pays the piper, and Michael who -takes a fortune in exchange for a trick. Bah, gentlemen, 'tis but a -merry jest, and, on my honour, no harm can come to any one. Is not -Michael Kestyon henceforth rich, as well as highly-connected and -amiable of mien. By Gad the practised hand of his future father-in-law -together with that of a court barber, would soon turn him into the most -gallant gentleman in the two kingdoms." - -"A truce on this nonsense," interposed Michael with a quick return to -his impatient mood. "Tell me what you expect me to do, and I'll do it; -but there's no cause for such empty talk. I am being paid to act and -not to listen." - -"We'll be serious, old sobersides," quoth Sir John with imperturbable -good humour, "and think of the best schemes to bring our scheme to a -successful issue. My lord of Stowmaries, have I your leave to place the -details of our plan before our friend here?" - -Scarce waiting for the impatient assent of the other, Ayloffe -continued, speaking directly to Michael: - -"Firstly, then: to-morrow as soon as the shopkeepers have taken down -their shutters you shall go to the King's tailor in Holborn and there -order yourself various suits of clothes, befitting the many occasions -when you shall have need of them in Paris and on your honeymoon. Once -the bargain sealed between us, by word of honour as between gentlemen, -your gracious cousin will place fifty thousand pounds in your hands. -You will be a rich man to-morrow, friend Michael, and can attire -yourself in accordance with your whim. From the tailor's in Holborn you -had best proceed to the barber's in Fleet Street, who will provide you -with the most fashionable perruques--" - -"I know all that, man," interrupted Michael with ever-growing -impatience. "I know that the monkey hath to be tricked out for parade. -When I have been made to look like a fool in motley garb, what further -shall I do?" - -"You'll hie over to France as soon as may be; for already at break of -day to-morrow you--in your temporary name of Earl of Stowmaries--will -write a letter to M. Legros, merchant tailor of Paris apprising him of -your intentions no longer to disobey the decrees of the Church, or the -dictates of your own heart, which of a truth has ever been true to your -baby bride; also you will tell him of your desire to proceed forthwith -to Paris in order to claim your wife, to have the marriage ceremony of -eighteen years ago formally ratified and finally to bring her back in -state and solemnity to her new home in England." - -"Am I to write all these lies myself?" asked Michael. - -"Nay! I'll constitute myself your secretary," replied Ayloffe, "you -need only to sign 'Stowmaries.' As I mistake not, 'tis a name you would -gladly sign always, 'twill not come amiss for once. You may have to -sign papers over there, 'twere better that your handwriting be known at -once." - -"When do I start for Paris?" - -"What say you to a fortnight's hence from this day? 'Twill give you -ample time for the completion of your toilet. An you will allow me -I will provide you with a retinue worthy of your rank. It must be -composed of men whom we can trust, and men who do not know my lord of -Stowmaries by sight and are not like to guess that something is amiss. -Three will be sufficient. I will engage them at the last, so that there -may be no fear of our secret reaching their knowledge." - -"Clothes, men, money," quoth Michael, "methinks, Sir John, you have -thought of everything. Once I am in Paris?" - -"You will act as judgment guides you." - -"And no doubt seventy thousand pounds is a good guide to judgment." - -Michael's somewhat defiant manner seemed completely to have vanished. -He appeared to be yielding himself quite freely to the delights of -the promised adventure; at least this was what good Sir John hoped -whilst congratulating himself on the remarkable attainment of his -fondly-cherished desire. - -But remember that this same good Sir John was no superficial observer -of human nature. He was not altogether deceived by Michael's outward -show of flippancy. That excitement had got hold of the adventurer's -imagination was undoubted and probably the obstinacy of an untamed -nature would prevent his drawing back from a promise once given. - -At the same time the glint of excitement in Michael's eyes had but -little genuine merriment in it. It was more like the unnatural fire -produced by fever-heated blood. - -It was the money which had tempted Michael--so concluded Ayloffe in -his own mind. The money which mayhap would help the claimant to bring -forward his cause once again into the light of day. Money which would -mean bribes, high enough to tempt corrupt judges or even--who knows--a -pleasure-loving King. - -What Michael thought of the adventure itself, what it cost him to -acquiesce in it with an outward show of careless gaiety even the astute -Sir John could not have said: he himself had achieved his own ends and -personally he cared little what Michael felt so long as the young man -fulfilled his share of the ignoble contract. - -Was it so ignoble after all? Sir John with a smile of self-contempt -found himself wondering in his mind whether any one would indeed be -the loser by it. Stowmaries? certainly not!--he could well afford -to pay twice a hundred thousand pounds for the gratification of his -most ardent desire: his freedom to marry the woman whom he loved. -Michael?--of a truth Michael would lose a little more self-respect than -he had already done, but then he must have so little left--and he would -become passing rich. - -As for the tailor's wench, bah!--one husband was as good as another, -concluded Sir John with a splendid cynicism, and if Michael Kestyon -was not actually Earl of Stowmaries, by Gad he was mighty near to it, -and--who knows?--with one hundred and twenty thousand pounds in his -pocket might yet oust his cousin from that enviable state. - -And he--Sir John Ayloffe--gambler on his beam ends, would henceforth -look forward to a comfortable old age with Mistress Julia Peyton's -twelve thousand pounds carefully placed at interest so that there might -be no temptation to dribble it away. - -All was for the best in the best possible world! - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. - --MACBETH IV. 1. - - -But there was one more card which Ayloffe, the gambler, desired to play -ere he lost sight momentarily of the man who was to be his tool in the -carving of their respective fortunes. - -He now rose from the table and went up to the door which gave on -the private parlour. This he opened and looked in. Just as he had -anticipated, there was but little change in the attitude of the three -gentlemen whom he had left in the room. - -Sir Anthony Wykeham still sat moodily leaning back in his chair, a -shade more confused in his brain than he had been before, his eyes -more shifty and uncertain in expression. A couple of empty bottles in -front of him mutely explained the reason for this gradual change in the -emphatic moraliser of a while ago. - -Sir Knaith Bullock was still lying on the floor, in the midst of the -straw which with idle hands he had gradually heaped up all round him, -so that he seemed reclining in a nest. But he was not asleep now; he -was singing chorus to the songs of my lord Rochester, who--frankly -tipsy--made as much noise and sang as thoroughly out of tune as any of -the plebeian revellers in the coffee room. - -"Hello, Sir John!" he shouted lustily, "where in the devil's name have -you and Stowmaries been hiding yourselves?" - -His tongue was thick and the words fell inarticulately from his -quivering lips. Sir Knaith Bullock rolled over in the straw in order to -have a good view of the intruder. - -"Where the devil--sh--sh--Stowmaries?" he babbled as incoherently as -his friend. - -"We have been busy finding an alternative husband for the tailor's -daughter," said Sir John gaily. - -"And have you found one?" queried Wykeham with vague, somnolent eyes -fixed upon the speaker. - -"Ay! that we have! And I pray you gentlemen to join the merry company -in the coffee room and to pledge the bold adventurer in a monster -goblet of wine." - -"Egad!--you--you don't mean--that--hic!--" hiccupped Bullock who had -rolled right over in the straw and now looked like a giant and frowzy -dog with prickly wisps standing out of his perruque and sticking to his -surcoat and velvet breeches. He contrived to work himself about until -he got onto his feet, whereupon he stood there tottering and swaying -the while his bleary eyes tried to take in what was going on around him. - -A great shout issuing from the coffee room, great banging of mugs -against the boards, loud laughter and the first verse of a song, roused -Rochester from his apathy and Wykeham from his moodiness. - -"They are passing roisterous over there!" remarked the latter, gazing -covetously toward the open door. - -"They are toasting the gallant adventurer," said Sir John; "I pray -you, gentlemen, come and join us. Let us drink to the future husband -of the tailor's daughter, the future possessor of one hundred and -twenty thousand pounds in solid cash and of my lord Stowmaries' eternal -gratitude. Let us drink to Michael Kestyon." - -"Michael--Kesh--Keshtyon is it?" babbled Sir Knaith. - -"The damned blackguard--" murmured Wykeham. - -"I say hurrah for Michael Kestyon!" roared my lord Rochester lustily, -"the beggar hath pluck. By Gad! won't old Rowley laugh at the -adventure? Would I'd had the impudence to go through with it myself!--I -say hurrah for Michael Kestyon!" - -He lurched forward in the wake of Sir John who had once more turned -towards the coffee room, and closely followed by the others, all four -men shouting: "Hurrah for Michael Kestyon! Hurrah for the tailor's -daughter!" - -Their advent was greeted by more vigorous shouting, more singing and -cries of: "Hurrah!" which issued from out the darkness. For by now only -one last tallow candle was left spluttering and dripping, its feeble -yellow rays illumining but one narrow circle of light wherein the -remnant of a pie, an overturned bottle and a pool of red wine, stood -out as the sole objects actually visible in the room. - -In this total darkness, the noise of hoarse shouts, of cries for -"Michael Kestyon!" of blasphemies and of oaths sounded weird and -satanic, like a babel of ghouls exulting in the realms of the night. - -Sir John paused at the door. He had wished to see Michael Kestyon -commit himself finally before these other three gentlemen, who were -almost partners in the conspiracy. He wanted to see the bond sealed -with the word of honour of the rogue who--as Ayloffe well knew--would -never break a pledge once given. - -Therefore, he called loudly to Michael, and listened for the cheery -tones of his voice. But no response came, only from out the gloom a -curt answer from Stowmaries: - -"Oh! 'tis no use calling for Michael! He hath gone!" - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - Still his soul fed upon the sovereign hour - That had been or that should be: - --SWINBURNE. - - -Michael in the meanwhile was running through the deserted streets like -a man possessed. Cloakless and hatless he ran, bending his head to the -gusts of wind which tore down the narrow byways in the neighbourhood of -the Strand. - -Fitful clouds chased one another over his head, obscuring the moon, and -from time to time descending in sharp showers of icy rain. - -But Michael loved the wind and cared naught for the wet. The rags he -wore were soon soaked through, but he did not attempt to take shelter -beneath the various yawning archways which he passed from time to time; -on the contrary he liked the cold douches of these winter showers which -seemed to cool his head, burning with inward fever. - -Michael Kestyon, the gambler, the adventurer, the wastrel, had begun -the fight against his own soul. - -For the space of a few seconds, there in the over-heated tavern room -in the midst of all those drunkards, those profligates--scums of -humanity--dying honour had called out in its agony: "Wilt sell me for -gold?" but Michael had laughed out loud and long, and smothered those -warning cries with the recklessness of the soldier of fortune who -stakes his all on the winning card. - -His claim, his rights! His and those of that patient old soul dying of -want in a lonely cottage, the while she should be living in the lap of -luxury and of ease. - -She was dying of want, of actual hard, bitter starvation. Michael knew -it and could do naught to help, and in the midst of the dissolute life -of the town had vainly striven to forget that even at the cost of his -life's blood, which he would have given gladly drop by drop, he could -not purchase for her a soft bed on which she would finally go to her -eternal sleep. - -His claim! His rights! Her happiness! The happiness of the one being -in the whole wide world who had clung to him, who loved him for what -he was and did not despise him for what he had become: this he could -purchase for one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. - -Had not Sir John Ayloffe himself said that 'twas a fortune which would -tempt a king. - -The lawyers had told Michael that only money was wanted to bring his -claim before the Lords' House of Parliament now, and once publicly -debated, justice could not stand against it. - -Michael had oft laughed at those two words, "Only money!" - -Only money! and when he sought and got a sword thrust that nearly -killed him, he was given twenty crowns as blood-money. He reckoned at -this rate that his miserable body would have to be as full of holes as -a sieve, before he obtained enough money wherewith to satisfy the first -lawyer who would condescend once more to take up his case. - -But now all that--lawyers' fees, fees for a first hearing, for a -second and for a third, for pleadings, interrogatories and affidavits, -for petitions to the King and for briberies to obtain a private -audience--all that would be within his reach. - -The price? A woman's honour and his own self-respect. - -Once--very long ago, these would have mattered to him a great deal; in -those days he had believed in men's honour and in women's virtue. - -But now? He had lost so much self-respect already--what mattered if a -few more shreds of it went the way of all his other ideals. - -He had once boldly said that he would give his life's blood drop by -drop, endure every agony, undergo every torture to see his mother -installed at Maries Castle, her rightful and proper place. - -Well, that had been easy to say! These things were not asked of him, -and he had gone through so much, suffered often so terribly from -hunger, wounds and fatigue that the sacrifice of his life or the -endurance of most bitter tortures would have been an easy sacrifice. -He was hard and tough--what nerves he had had been jarred beyond all -sensibility long ago. - -But now something was asked of him. Fate had spoken in no uncertain -accents. She had said: "Make a sacrifice of thine honour, and thy most -cherished wish will be gratified!" - -If those former bold words--offers of blood and life--were not the talk -of a weak-kneed braggart, then, Michael Kestyon, thou shouldst not -hesitate! - -Dost prize those paltry remnants of self-respect so highly that thou -wouldst see thy mother starve ere thou sell them? - -Starve, remember, starve!--in the direct, absolute, unmitigated sense -of the word. If thou canst not provide her with the necessities of -life, she must starve sooner or later, in a month, in a year, in two -mayhap, that would depend how charitably inclined the neighbours -happened to be. But starve she must, if thou, her son, dost naught for -her. - -And Fate had whispered: "Money, power, justice await thee, at the price -of thy self-respect and the honour of a woman who is a stranger to -thee." - -The subtle temptation had entered into Michael's heart like an -insinuating poison which killed every objection, every argument, every -moral rebellion in his soul. And the temptation assailed him just at -this time when his whole being ached with the constant buffetings -of life, when he longed with all the maddening strength of defiant -impotence to hit right and left at the world which had derided him, to -begin again a new life of action, of combat, of lofty aspirations. - -Try and pity him, for the temptation was over-great; pity him -because Fate had struck him one blow after another, each more and -more difficult to bear since his soul, his mind, his entire self had -scarcely time to recover from one before the next came crashing down, -leaving him with one hope the less, one more ideal shattered, one more -misery to bear. - -One hundred and twenty thousand pounds!--Michael kept repeating the -half dozen wonderful words to himself over and over again as he walked. - -Thus tottering, buffeted by the wind, drunk with the magic of the -thought which the words evoked, he reached his lodgings at last. - -He rapped loudly at a low door with his knuckles, but had to wait some -time before it was opened. A gnome-like figure wrapped in a tattered -dressing gown and wearing a cotton night-cap appeared in the doorway. -It was difficult to distinguish if the figure was that of man or woman. -In brown and wrinkled hands it held a guttering tallow dip which threw -a trembling light on the dank walls of the narrow passage and feebly -illumined the approach to the rickety stairs beyond. - -Michael paid no heed to the muttered grumblings of the creature, but -walked straight past it along the passage, and then up the creaky -stairs which led to the garret above. As he reached the several -landings he nearly fell over various prostrate bundles made up of human -rags from out of which issued sleepy oaths, as Michael's foot stumbled -against them. - -His own garret was not much better than those open landings across -which he had tottered and fumbled in the dark. Here the roof sloped -down to the tiny dormer window, innocent of curtains, and made up of -some half dozen tiny panes, mostly cracked and covered with thick -coatings of grime. - -Along the low wall opposite the window a row of ragged bundles--human -only in shape--and similar to those which encumbered the landings, told -their tale of misery and of degradation. There were some half dozen of -these bundles lying all of a row against the wall. They were Michael's -room companions, the wreckages of man and womankind, with whom he had -lived now for close on eighteen months. - -Snores and drunken oaths, blasphemy too and noisome words spoken in -sleep came from these bundles, greeting Michael's somewhat stormy -entrance into this den. - -He shut the rickety door behind him, and made his way to the little -window, through which the light of some street lanthorn opposite came -shyly peeping through. - -Michael threw the casement open, allowing that feeble light to enter -more fully, then he turned and surveyed his surroundings,--those -bundles along the floor, the wooden boards across which a crowd of -vermin were scrampering out of sight, the two chairs, innocent of -seats, the wooden packing case in lieu of table, the walls dank and -grey, covered with obscene writing scribbled with shaky fingers dipped -in grime! - -Michael looked at it all, as if he had never seen it before. In an -angle of the room was the straw paillasse still empty which awaited -him, and around which the dying instincts of gentle birth had caused -him to erect a kind of unseen barrier between that corner and the rest -of the room. Here the floor was clean, the straw was fresh; above the -paillasse the wall had been carefully wiped clean and rubbed over with -lime, and on an overturned wooden case beside the miserable bed there -were one or two books, and a small metal crucifix which profane fingers -had apparently never dared to touch. - -But these very trifling attempts at cleanliness were the only luxury -which had come within Michael's reach, ever since he came home from -that last campaign in Brandenburg and sent his last crown to his mother -in Kent. And remember that such garrets, such degrading propinquity, -such misery and such dirt represented the only kind of life which -London offered in those days to the poor, to the outcast and the -homeless. There was nothing else except the gutter itself. - -Michael stood in the centre of this garret and looked upon the -picture--his life! His life such as it had been for the past eighteen -months, such as it would continue to be until he became too old and -too feeble to drag himself up from that straw paillasse in the corner. -Then he would lie there sick and starving until he was taken away feet -foremost down the rickety stairway to the paupers' graveyard out beyond -St. Paul's. - -With arms akimbo, hands resting on his hips and feet firmly planted -on the dust-covered floor, Michael looked and laughed; not bitterly -or mirthlessly. Bitterness had gone--strangely enough--at sight of -the picture. He laughed, mocking himself for the few scruples which -had assailed him awhile ago, for having conjured up--yes! conjured up -himself--those phantoms of honour which accused him of selling his -self-respect. - -Was this self-respect, this den of rogues, this herd of miserable -ne'er-do-wells, these filthy walls, this life of misery, of -wretchedness, of shifts--growing day by day more unavowable for -obtaining bread for the morrow? Was this manhood to stand against such -odds? Was this honour to endure such a life? - -Bah! if it was, then far better sell it for the price of oak boards -sufficient to make two coffins: one for the man, the other for the old -woman living the same life and enduring the same misery. - -Michael turned back to the window and with a brusque, impatient gesture -tore open the second casement. A gust of wind found its way into the -musty corners of the garret and scattered the vitiated air, the while -the moon emerging triumphantly from her long imprisonment behind the -clouds searched with bluish and ghostly rays the grey walls opposite, -the drunken sleepers on the floor, the vermin scuttling between those -litters of straw more fit for cattle than for human beings. - -The blustering wind, as it tore at the rickety casements roused some of -the sleepers from their dreams. Volleys of oaths were flung at Michael, -but he heard nothing now. He leaned out of the narrow window--as far -out as he could--and looked on the forest of chimney stacks, the -irregular roofs and tall spires of this great and heartless city. - -How peacefully she lay beneath the cool kiss of the moon! Invisible -arms seemed to be stretched out toward the lonely watcher bidding him -to come and conquer. - -There was no longer any compunction in Michael's heart, and certainly -no shame. - -"I am a man," he said speaking to those unseen shadows, "and what I do, -I do!" - -The freshness of the air came as a bath of moral cleanliness to his -soul; he felt an excitement, too, akin to that of a war horse when -scenting the coming battle. To Michael now the whole transaction--to -which on the morrow he would affix the seal of his pledged word--was -but a mighty combat wherein a powerful weapon would be placed in his -hand. - -He would at last be able to hit right and left, to be even with that -world which had buffeted him, which had scorned his efforts, but -allowed his mother to starve. - -Aye! He was a turbulent soul; a soul created to fight and not to endure. - -And if at moments during that lonely watch above the chimney stacks and -roofs of London there came floating to his mind the thought of the girl -who was nothing to him, the stranger whom he would so bitterly wrong, -then with a proud toss of the head, a joy which literally lighted -up his whole being, he would send an unspoken challenge up to those -swiftly-flying clouds which tended southwards, towards Paris. - -"Go tell her!" he murmured, "that whoever she may be Michael Kestyon -will serve her with gratitude and love all the days of his life. On -his knees will he worship her, and devote his life to her happiness. -And," he added mentally, whilst a quiver of excitement shook his broad -shoulders, "tell her that an she desires to be Countess of Stowmaries, -even that desire Michael Kestyon will gratify, for he will make her -that--tell her--tell her that before next December's snows cover the -earth there will be two Countesses of Stowmaries in England: Michael -Kestyon's mother and Michael Kestyon's wife." - -He did not attempt to go and rest on his miserable couch, but leant -for hours up against the window watching the moon slowly drawing its -peaceful course along the dark firmament, seeing the fleecy, silvered -clouds fly madly across the sky, lashed by the wind into fantastic -shapes of witches' heads and of lurid beasts. He watched the roofs -and towers of many churches as gradually they were wrapped in the -mist-laden mantle of approaching dawn. - -He watched until far away above chimney stacks and pointed steeples -a feeble rosy glow precursed the rising sun. He was too weary now to -think any more, too weary to dream, too weary he thought even to live. - -And through the gathering mist it seemed to him that the ghostly -spectres of his tumultuous past came to him enwrapped in white palls, -monstrous and majestic, towering above mighty London, and that walking -slowly in their wake, tottering and shy was his mother, enfeebled by -starvation and the wretchedness of her life. She held out emaciated -arms to him in a mute appeal for help, whilst the ghosts of the past -spoke with unseen lips of all that he had suffered, of the great -sorrows and the tiny pin-pricks. - -And with every word they uttered his soul sank more and more to rest, -and even as his aching head sank down upon his outstretched arms, and -his eyes closed in a dreamless sleep, his lips murmured with final -defiance: - -"I am a man! and what I do, I do." - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - Now mark! To be precise--Though - I say "lies," all these, at this first stage - 'Tis but for science' sake. - --BROWNING. - - -In the meanwhile my lord of Stowmaries had been allowed to spend a -happy hour in the tiny withdrawing room at Holborn Row, kneeling at -Mistress Julia Peyton's feet. - -He had been so excited, so full of Sir John's proposals and their -more than probable success that like Michael Kestyon he had no desire -for rest. He had soon wearied of the crowd in the coffee room, and -presently had allowed Ayloffe to lead him out into the streets. - -Instinctively his footsteps turned in the direction of Holborn Row, the -while he lent a somewhat inattentive ear to what Sir John was saying to -him. Ayloffe was talking of the details of his scheme; of the payment -of the money to Michael on the morrow, if the latter finally pledged -himself to the bargain; fifty thousand pounds then, and a further -seventy on the day that the tailor's daughter left her home in her -husband's company. - -"We must be as good as our word, my lord," said the astute Sir John. -"A word misplaced, the faintest suggestion of withdrawal on any point -might upset Michael's curious temper and turn his acquiescence into -obstinate refusal." - -Ayloffe had no doubt of Stowmaries' integrity, only the sum was such a -vast one--and the worthy baronet was so unaccustomed to the handling -of thousands--that he could not help dreading the fact that the young -man had mayhap overestimated his power of paying away such large sums -at such short intervals, and that, when the time came for disbursement, -a hitch might occur which would rouse Michael's antagonism and upset -the perfectly-laid scheme once and for all. - -Stowmaries, however, seemed to attach very slight importance to this -question of money. - -"I am a man of my word," he said curtly. "I have no wish to draw back. -What I've said, I've said." - -What cared he if it cost him twice one hundred thousand pounds, if -indeed he were free to wed the beautiful Julia? - -He was over-eager to be at her feet now and showed marked impatience to -rid himself of Ayloffe's company. - -"My hand on it, Sir John," he said, halting at the corner of Holborn -Row, for he did not want the older man to see whither he was going, the -while the latter was well aware that my lord was on his way to Mistress -Peyton's house. "My hand on it; and to-morrow Michael Kestyon shall -have his fifty thousand pounds, if he finally agrees to do what we -want." - -"This he must do in the presence of witnesses--my lord of Rochester or -Sir Knaith Bullock would favour us as much. Yet have I no fear that the -rogue will play us false, 'tis the money he wants, and fifty thousand -were not enough to tempt him; 'tis that further seventy that he'll -crave for most." - -"I know, I know," said Stowmaries, impatiently anxious to get away, now -that he had perceived--as he thought--a light in one of the windows -of his fair Julia's house. "He shall have that, too. The money is at -interest with Master Vivish the diamond merchant. I can get it at any -time." - -"We promised it to Michael on the day that the tailor's daughter leaves -her father's home," urged the over-prudent Sir John. - -"On that day he shall have it," rejoined the other. - -"Then your lordship would have to journey to France in order to fulfil -that promise." - -"I'll to France then," retorted the young man who had come to the end -of his tether, "an you'll go to Hell now and leave me in peace." - -Ayloffe laughed good-humouredly. Usually prone to quarrel he was -determined to keep his temper to-night; and as he felt that nothing -further would be gained now by talking whilst Stowmaries was so -obviously waiting to be rid of him, he said nothing more, but gave his -friend a cordial Good-night and turned on his heel in the direction of -Lincoln's Inn Fields. - -Stowmaries--as soon as the other was out of sight--walked down Holborn -Row, and had soon reached the familiar door. - -In response to his loud knocking the East Anglian serving-man came to -open it. With the stolidity peculiar to his race, he showed no surprise -at the untimely visitor, and with solemn imperturbability held out his -furrowed hand even before Stowmaries had produced the small piece of -silver which alone would induce the old man to permit that visitor to -enter. - -The piece of silver being deemed sufficient to overcome the man's -scruples, he shuffled along the flagged passage without uttering a -word, leaving Stowmaries to follow as he liked, and presently he threw -open the door which gave on the small parlour. - -Though it was close on midnight, Mistress Peyton was not abed. She -had been to the Playhouse, and was still attired in that beautiful -cream-coloured brocade which had been the envy of the feminine portion -of the audience there; but though she was tired after the many and -varied emotions of that eventful day, yet she felt that she could -not have slept. Her proposals to Sir John Ayloffe, the schemes which -she well knew that the gambler would concoct, the possibility or -probability of ultimate success, harassed her nerves and fired her -brain. - -She had spent the last two hours in that narrow room, now pacing up and -down like a caged rodent, now throwing herself down in a chair in an -agony of restlessness. - -The advent of my lord Stowmaries occurred in the nick of time, for she -was on the verge of hysterics. - -He knelt at her feet, adoring and excited. He told her all that had -occurred during that momentous evening, humbly begging her pardon for -having betrayed the secret of their mutual love, his own passion and -his despair, to some of his most intimate friends. - -Mistress Julia whose flushed face when my lord entered might have -been caused by shyness at his stormy entrance, or by anger at the -untimeliness of his visit, looked adorable in her obvious agitation. -She chided him gently for his impetuosity, and for disclosing her -tender secret to those who mayhap would sneer at her hopeless love. - -Then my lord told her of Sir John Ayloffe's scheme, the proposed public -disgrace of the tailor's daughter which would render the dissolution of -the child-marriage not only probable but certain. Mistress Julia looked -quite sad and shed sympathetic tears; she was so sorry, so very sorry -for the poor dear child. - -But when she heard that my lord had actually promised one hundred and -twenty thousand pounds to his cousin Michael Kestyon for rendering him -this service, the fair Julia frowned and checked an angry exclamation -which had risen to her lips. - -"The sum seems overvast," she remarked with affected indifference. - -"The bribe had to be heavy, Mistress," replied my lord. "Michael was -the only man who could help us. He might have refused for less. It -had to be a fortune worth a gentleman's while to accept. Michael is a -gentleman despite his roguery, and we were asking him to do a mighty -villainous action. He had to be well paid for it," repeated the young -man decisively, "methinks that for less he would have refused." - -Mistress Peyton allowed the subject to drop for the moment and her -lover to wander back into the realms of dithyrambic utterances, of -vows and of sighs. But anon she recurred to the question of the money, -showing a desire to know how and when it would be paid over. - -"To-morrow when we have Michael's final acquiescence," said Stowmaries, -eager to dismiss this question, "I will hand over fifty thousand pounds -to him, and another seventy thousand the day on which Rose Marie Legros -leaves her father's shop in company with mine adventurous cousin." - -"You talk lightly of such vast sums, my lord," said Julia. - -"Would I not give my fortune to win you?" he rejoined. - -She continued for a long time afterwards to listen shyly and adorably -to my lord's continued protestations, and when these became too -violent, she rang for her tiring-wench and with many charmingly-timid -blushes dismissed her adorer, promising to receive him again on the -morrow. - -He went away quite happy, vowing that he would gladly have given not -only his entire fortune, but also his family estates and titles to -Michael for enabling him to regain his freedom and to marry the most -adorable woman in the whole world. - -But Mistress Julia Peyton was not quite so content as all that. After -my lord's departure, she went up to her sleeping room and exchanging -her stiff brocade for a loose and easy wrap, she sat down in order to -think various matters out. - -Agitation and restlessness had gone from her, but not the frown of -disapproval. - -Her impetuous lover had been a fool, and Sir John a traitor to have -allowed such monstrous promises to be made to Michael Kestyon. Surely -her own kinsman should have known that her ardent love for my lord -of Stowmaries consisted in the main of an overmastering desire to -become a countess. Now with one hundred and twenty thousand pounds in -Michael's hands and given that claimant's obstinate temperament and -determination to carry his cause through, was there not a grave danger -that the wretch would win his case after all and that my lord would -presently have to yield his title and estates to the cousin whom he had -so needlessly rendered rich? - -It was monstrous, silly and childish! Sir John of course must have -been well under the influence of liquor ere he allowed such a bargain, -without realising the danger which threatened his kinswoman's ambitious -desires. - -She was mightily angry with Sir John, who should have been more shrewd, -and could not understand how it was that so astute and so unscrupulous -a schemer had overlooked the eventuality which she herself had foreseen -in a flash. - -The first fifty thousand, well and good!--Julia supposed that so vast -a sum would certainly be required to bribe even a broken-down gentleman -to enter into Ayloffe's dishonourable schemes. - -But the further seventy thousand, was unnecessary, she felt sure of -that and moreover it was dangerous. - -Would it not be the most bitter irony of which Fate was capable if the -tailor's daughter became Countess of Stowmaries after all? - -Such a thing had become possible now, nay, probable, thanks to the -blunder made by Sir John. As for my lord, he seemed unaware of the -danger--he was too fond of laughing at Michael Kestyon's pretensions, -and was ever inclined to dismiss them as puerile and beneath contempt; -mayhap, too, that he was fatuous enough to think that even without -wealth or title his adored one would become his. - -But the adored one had no such intention. - -Like unto the adventurer himself up in that squalid garret above the -roofs of London, Mistress Peyton could not rest that night. Her active -mind was troubled with plans of how to undo the blunders of the past -hour. - -And whilst Michael dreamed of future glory, of power and of wealth, -Julia racked her woman's brain to find a means to bring him back to the -dust. - - - - - PART III - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - Her eyes were deeper than the depth - Of waters still at even: - She had three lilies in her hand, - And the stars in her hair were seven. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -"No, no, my cabbage, I do not find that plain gown becoming, of a -verity thou must remember that thou art an English Countess and must -henceforth adorn thy person with proper grandeur." - -And worthy Mme. Legros, whilst vainly trying to express disapproval, -gazed with obvious admiration at the dainty apparition before her. - -"Let be, Maman, let be!" interposed Papa Legros soothingly, "the chit -is well enough as she is. When she is over there in England, she may -well look grand and stately; for the present she is still a tailor's -daughter and I'll challenge the world to produce a daintier bale of -goods. _Par ma foi!_ were I not thy father, my pigeon, I were tempted -to envy that profligate young scoundrel, thy noble lord and husband. -'Tis a mightily succulent morsel he will bite into the nonce." - -Rose Marie striving to hide the confusion, which her kind father's -broad allusion caused in her sensitive young heart, buried her face in -the bouquet of snowdrops which she held in her hand. - -No wonder that her adoring parents were proud of her. She looked a -picture on this cold winter's morning, standing there in her little -room beneath the eaves, clad in pure white like the snow which lay -thick on the narrow window sill and along the streets of Paris. - -She had fashioned her gown herself, of white grogram with a beautiful -openwork lace pinner and delicate kerchief demurely folded across her -young bosom. Her fair hair was dressed in small curls all over her -small head, her neck was bare, as were her arms and hands, and in -colour as delicate as the snowdrops which she carried. - -The spring was still in its infancy and snowdrops were very scarce; -worthy M. Legros had paid a vast sum of money in order that Rose Marie -should carry a bouquet when first she met her lord. - -All white she looked--almost like a little snow image, only that her -cheeks glowed with the excitement in her blood, and her bosom rose -and fell with unwonted rapidity beneath the filmy folds of her muslin -kerchief. - -My lord of Stowmaries had arrived in Paris the evening before, and had -sent one of his serving-men round to say that he would come and pay his -respects before midday. - -Oh! there seemed no laggardness about him now. The influence of -Monseigneur the Archbishop and no doubt his own better nature had -prevailed at last, and since a fortnight ago when his letter arrived -announcing his coming, he seemed to have lost no time in useless -preparations. - -Now he was here in Paris and Rose Marie had put on her pretty gown -in order to receive him. She did so mightily desire to please him, -for she on her side was quite ready to give him that respectful love -which husbands demand of their wives. Mme. Legros had fussed round -the child all the morning, and though she grumbled at the simplicity -of the gown, she could not help but admire the exquisite picture of -innocent girlhood which her daughter presented with such charming -unconsciousness. - -Rose Marie had been singularly silent all the while that she dressed. -She was very anxious to be beautiful, and thought that this could -not be accomplished without much care and trouble. This she bestowed -ungrudgingly on every curl as she twisted and pinned it up, on every -fold of her kerchief, on the tying of her shoe. - -She had taken over two hours in completing her toilet, selecting with -scrupulous care each article of dainty underlinen, which her own -fingers had embroidered months ago, in anticipation of this great day: -the white stockings, the silken garters, the beribboned shift and -petticoat. - -When she was ready, she called to maman to come and inspect, and oh! -to criticise if there were any fault to find, which maman of a surety -would detect. Mme. Legros determined not to let affection blind her, -had turned the snow-white apparition round and round, seeking for -defects, where none existed, readjusting a curl here, a ribbon there, -and finally calling to good M. Legros to come and give his verdict on -the picture. - -But good M. Legros was far too adoring to do aught but admire. So now -Rose Marie, if not quite free from doubt, was at any rate satisfied -that everything which could be done to render her beautiful and -desirable, had of a truth been done. - -"We had best go down, Maman," said Legros at last, when he had finished -feasting his eyes on the beauty of his daughter, "and make ready to -receive milor. The child had best remain up here, and not enter the -parlour until her lord is there, ready to greet her as she advances." - -The worthy tailor was more agitated than he cared to own. He felt -fussy and could not manage to sit still. It still lacked nearly an hour -to midday, and he was ready and over-ready to receive milor. He bustled -maman out of the room, then ran back to have a final look at Rose Marie. - -"Keep calm, my treasure," he said agitatedly, "_par Dieu_! There's no -need for excitement. Thou art not the first and only bride who has ever -been claimed by an unknown husband. 'Tis milor, no doubt, who feels -flustered. He has been in the wrong and comes to make amends. Not a -very pleasant position for a proud English lord, eh, my pigeon? But -thou art within thy rights, and wilt receive him with becoming dignity." - -With gentle, insinuating gestures Rose Marie contrived to lead her -father out of the room, and finally to close the door behind him. - -Time was hurrying on and she did so want to be alone and to think. This -was the end of the old life, the beginning of the new: the new with all -its hopes, its fears, its mysteries. She had put it very pertinently to -her mother when she said that nothing, nothing would ever be quite the -same again. - -Now that dear Papa Legros' heavy footsteps had died down the steep -staircase, Rose Marie could sit by the open window and just think of -it all, for the last time, before these mysteries of the new life were -revealed to her. - -I think that what struck her as most curious in the future was the idea -that she would never be quite alone again. For she had--despite the -loving care of adoring parents--been very much alone. We must remember -that there is never complete harmony between the young and the old. -The former live for the future, the latter for the present, oft times -only for the past. Papa and Maman Legros found their joy in seeing Rose -Marie grow up and live, like some beautiful flower, carefully tended, -guarded against the tearing winds of life, nourished, fed and caressed. -But Rose Marie thought she cherished her parents, dreamed of the time -when she would be a woman with another home, with other affections, -with other kindred. Therefore she was lonely even in the midst of her -happy home. There was a great deal that Rose Marie did not understand -in life, but there was an infinity which maman would never comprehend. - -Would this newcomer, this stranger understand better than maman, she -wondered. Would he know what ailed her when in the very midst of joy -she suddenly felt inclined to cry? Would he then know just the right -word to say, the right word to soothe her, and to fit in with her mood? - -There were other thoughts that flew through Rose Marie's mind during -this, the last lonely hour of her girlhood, but these she would not -allow to linger in her mind, for they caused her cheeks to blush, and -her heart to beat with sudden, nameless fear. She had seen the girls -and boys of Paris wandering arm in arm in the woods of Fontainebleau, -she had seen a fair head leaning against a dark head, and lips meeting -lips in a furtive kiss, and now in her innocent heart she wondered what -it felt like thus to be kissed. - -Hush!--sh!--sh!--No, no! Maman was not there to see the quick blush -which at the thought rose to the girlish cheek. Maman would not -understand. She would say gaily: "_Pardi_ my cabbage! but thy husband -shall kiss thee of a truth and right lustily on thy fresh cheeks or thy -budding mouth. A good, round, sounding kiss an he loves thee, which of -course he will!" And the girls, too, in the woods at Fontainebleau, -they usually laughed after that furtive kiss snatched behind some -tree, when they thought that no one was looking. - -But Rose Marie did not think that she would laugh when my lord kissed -her. It seemed to her so strange that girls should make light of such -wondrous moments in their lives. Rose Marie thought that when my lord -kissed her she would probably cry, not in grief, oh, no! but with a -strange exultant joy because of his love for her. - -And that was what she hoped that he would understand. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - And a bird overhead sang "Follow"! - And a bird to the right sang "Here"; - And the arch of the leaves was hollow - And the meaning of May was clear. - --SWINBURNE. - - -But good M. Legros could not contrive to sit still. - -He had gone down into the parlour and worried maman, until, poor soul, -she had put milk into the metheglin, in mistake for ale, and had to -brew the mixture all over again, quite a quantity of good Spanish wine -having been completely spoilt, owing to the fidgety temper of her lord. - -He hung round her whilst she evolved the fresh bowl of posset, and -made her so nervous that in desperation, fearing that more waste of -expensive liquid would ensue, she ran upstairs loudly calling to Rose -Marie to come down and help keep papa quiet by engaging him in a game -of cribbage. - -Therefore it was that when with loud clatter of hoofs on the rough -pavement of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie, my lord and his retinue drew -rein outside the tailor's shop, Rose Marie was sitting in the room -above playing cribbage with her father. - -She heard the noise of the horses, the brief word of command as the -small party halted, but not for all the treasures of this world could -she at this moment have risen in order to peep out of the window and -thus get a glimpse of her future husband. - -Papa rose in great agitation. Maman ceased fussing round the room and -there was silence for a time, the while no doubt my lord dismounted. -Then M. and Mme. Legros went out of the room in order to welcome the -distinguished guest. But Rose Marie sat quite still, with her trembling -fingers clasped tightly round the tiny bouquet of snowdrops. Through -the window behind her the spring sun peeped in, pale and tender, and -searching the remote corner of the homely parlour found the dainty, -white-clad figure of the girl and touching her fair hair with the magic -of its kiss turned it into an aureole of gold. - -The door opened and Michael entered. Thus he saw her for the first -time--she, the woman whom he had been paid to wrong. - -He realised this the moment he saw her. In all the whirl of riotous -thought which had assailed him during the past three weeks since that -night which he had spent in self-communion, the impression of the -woman had never been a lasting one. He had never thought of her as a -distinct personality, as a creature of flesh and blood with thoughts -and feelings mayhap as deep as his own. - -To his mind so far she had only been a tool, a sexless means to his -ends: and this man who had such a passionate attachment for his mother, -such a sense of her worth and importance, had given but a very cursory -thought to her who was to become his wife by a trick. - -In this we must do him justice, that he did not dream of wronging the -woman, who was the channel which Fortune had selected for her welcome -course towards him. His cousin Stowmaries would of course repudiate -her, that was understood. Undoubtedly he would be allowed to do this: -but he--Michael Kestyon--would atone for his kinsman's villainy, he -would keep, honour and respect her as his wife and the future mother -of his children, and make her--by the will of God, the King and the -Lords' House of Parliament, and by the power of his newly acquired -wealth--Countess of Stowmaries despite the rogues who had planned to -oust her from that place. - -Because of all these good resolutions, Michael had therefore -anticipated his meeting with his future wife with perfect equanimity. I -do not think that during the many preparations for his journey which he -had to see to in the past three weeks, he ever tried even for a moment -to picture to himself what she would be like. - -Now she stood before him, in the full charm of her innocent girlhood, -clad all in white, with her little hands clasping that bunch of -flowers, the pale rays of an April sun touching her fair hair with -gold. Her blue eyes were raised shyly to him just for an instant as she -rose to meet him. He thought her elegant and pretty, stately, too, in -her prim white gown. - -"She was born to be a great lady," he thought to himself with an inward -chuckle, "and by Gad I'll make her one." - -In his mind--which seemed all in a whirl now--he compared her to -Mistress Julia Peyton, and thought his cousin a mighty fool for -preferring the latter. - -He bowed very low as Rose Marie advanced and at an encouraging word -from maman, she placed her hand on his, and he kissed the tips of her -ice-cold fingers. - -"A snow-maiden, by my faith!" he thought to himself. "Michael, thou -rogue! Thou'lt of a surety have to infuse warmth into those pale -cheeks." - -She felt almost paralyzed with shyness, and very angry with herself -for seeming so gauche and stupid. The while she curtsied to my lord -in the most approved and primmest of fashions, the little bouquet of -snowdrops escaped her trembling fingers. My lord stooped and picked it -up, and she held out her hand for it, but he met her swift and timid -glance with a bold challenge, and raised the bouquet to his lips before -he hid it in the folds of his surcoat. - -Rose Marie thought her future lord picturesque in his elegant -accoutrements; the fine cloth of his coat, of a dull shade of red, -the cut of his garments, the delicate bit of lace at throat and wrist -set off the massive strength of his figure: she was not quite sure if -he were really handsome, for there was a curious look in his eyes, -especially when they met hers which she had never seen in any man -before, and a strange setting of mouth and jaw which did I not suggest -the love-sick husband. - -But she liked his easy bearing as he talked to maman with an easy -familiarity that proclaimed high birth and, gentle breeding. He had -declined for himself Mme. Legros' offers of refreshment in the shape -of mead or aromatic wines, but accepted gratefully when she offered to -take mugs of steaming ale out to his men. - -Rose Marie felt as if this were all a dream, and as if she would wake -anon in her narrow bed behind the cotton curtains in her room under -the eaves. She took several furtive glances at her future lord, and -felt not a little piqued that he took so little heed of her. After -that first hand kiss, and that quick flash of his deep-set eyes, when -he hid her bouquet in his coat, she had not caught him once looking at -her--was it because he did not think her fair? - -Papa talked incessantly, and presently maman came back, and in that -same vague dream-like way Rose Marie seemed to hear them talking about -the wedding ceremony. My lord seemed impatient and anxious to get -through the necessary formalities prescribed by the Church, and then -to take his bride away with him to England as quickly as possible. -Obviously she was not to be left alone with her future husband just -now; and though in her young heart, she had looked forward to the -moment when she would be alone with my lord, she now felt relieved at -the thought that it was not to be. - -Poor Rose Marie was bitterly disappointed. It had all been so very, -very different--this first meeting--to what she had anticipated. She -felt very angry with herself indeed for being so childish and so -timid--no doubt by now my lord had set her down as a silly goose quite -unfit to be a great English lady. At this thought she felt tears of -shame welling to her eyes, and was infinitely relieved when maman took -hold of her hand and led her out of the room. - -She bowed to my lord, and then held her head very erect as she walked -past him to the door; she wanted to look proud and defiant now, for -she had felt those strange deep-set eyes of his fixed upon her with an -expression she could not define. - -And when she was alone in her room, she went straight to the image of -the Virgin Mary which hung against the wall close to her narrow bed. -She knelt on the prie-dieu beneath it, and she begged the Holy Mother -of God to teach her not to be rebellious, and to be ready to obey her -lord in all things, to give him love and respect, "And O holy Mary, -Mother of God!" she added with a pitiful little sigh, "if it be in your -power to make my lord love me, then I humbly pray you tell him so to -do; and whisper to me from on high what I must do to please him and to -find favour in his sight." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - Smiling, frowning, evermore - Thou art perfect in love-lore. - --TENNYSON. - - -"My cabbage," said Maman Legros in that decisive tone, which she -only assumed on great occasions, and which then no one dreamed of -contradicting, "what thou dost ask is entirely out of the question. -It is not seemly for a maiden to be left alone in company with her -lord. Why! every one down the street would know of it--thy father's -'prentices would make mock of thee--and thy reputation would be as -surely gone as is thistle-down after a gale." - -"But, Maman," hazarded Rose Marie, bold for the first time in her -life, in the face of maman's stern refusal, "my lord is not my future -husband. He _is_ my husband, and surely I have the right to talk to him -alone sometimes." - -"Rose Marie, thou talkest like a goose, that cackles without -understanding," replied maman sternly, "though my lord is thy husband -by law and by the will of the Church, he will not be thy true lord -until the day after to-morrow, when thou wilt ratify thy vows to love, -honour and humbly obey him, which vows I, thy mother, took in thy name -eighteen years ago. Before thou hast spoken them with thine own lips, -after High Mass on Wednesday, thou dost an unseemly and unmaiden-like -act in wishing to be alone in his company. Truly thy guardian angel -must be veiling his face with the shame of thee at the present moment." - -But Rose Marie refused to look upon the troubles of her guardian angel -with proper compunction. She still felt rebellious and argumentative; -but she changed her tactics. The sly young damsel realised that she -had taken maman the wrong way and that she would gain nothing by -controversy. She, therefore, brought forth her other weapons of attack, -certain methods of pressure on the parental will which hitherto she had -never known to fail. - -She commenced proceedings by allowing her blue eyes to be veiled in -tears, then seeing that maman turned her face away so as not to be -forced to look on those pathetic dewdrops the rogue went close up to -her mother and kneeling beside her put two loving arms round the old -woman's shoulders. - -"Maman!" she whispered with quivering lips. - -"'Tis no use," retorted maman obdurately. - -"Only one very tiny, short quarter of an hour, Maman _chérie_--after -dinner--when papa goes downstairs to set the afternoon work to the -'prentices--you could be busy in the kitchen--accidentally--just for -one quarter of an hour--Maman _chérie_!" - -The pleading voice was hard to resist. Maman tried to steel her heart -and obstinately turned away from those liquid eyes, drowned in tears. - -"But in the name of the Holy Virgin, child," she said gruffly, "what is -there that thou wouldst say to my lord, that thou canst not do in thy -mother's presence?" - -"'Tis not what I would say, Maman--" rejoined Rose Marie in a soft -murmur quite close to maman's ear. - -"Then what?" - -"I want to hear him speak to me, Maman _chérie_--oh, I am sure that he -will say naught that is unseemly--he is too proud and too rigid for -that--but, when you and papa are in the room he never, never speaks to -me at all--I have oft wondered if he thought me a goose. When he comes, -he greets me of a truth as if I were a queen, he kisses my hand--and -bows in the most correct manner--then, when I sing to him and play on -the harpsichord, he praises my voice, and coldly thanks me for the -entertainment--" - -"And 'tis right and proper conduct on the part of a great gentleman," -retorted maman hotly, "thou wouldst not have him kiss thee, as if thou -wert a kitchen wench." - -But Rose Marie did not commit herself into saying what she did wish in -this matter, but continued with seeming irrelevance. - -"When I go out of the room, after the frigid and stately adieux which -my lord bestows upon me, I oft hear his ringing, merry voice echoing -up the stairs, right through the walls to my room. I hear papa and -you laughing, in obvious response to his sallies--and once--it was -yesterday--I stayed peeping over the bannister until my lord departed--" - -"Very unseemly behaviour," growled maman whilst an obvious blush rose -to her fat cheeks, and her little, beady eyes seemed to twinkle at a -certain recollection. - -"I saw my lord take thee in his arms, Maman," continued Rose Marie with -stern reproach, "and he imprinted two such kisses on thy cheeks that -literally raised the echoes in the house and must have been heard in -the 'prentices' shop." - -Maman made great efforts to preserve her gravity. - -"Well!" she said, "and if he did--I am old enough to be his mother--and -would it had pleased God to give me a son like him! Those merry eyes -give joy to my heart when I look into them, and he has such funny ways -with him--such amusing sallies--why not later than yesterday, he said, -speaking of Mme. Renaud, the cobbler's wife down the street, that--" - -Maman caught Rose Marie's blue eyes fixed eagerly upon her--there were -no tears in them now--only excitement and curiosity--Maman promptly -checked her own flow of eloquence and suddenly resumed her gruff, stern -voice. - -"But that is naught for thee, my pigeon--and now, enough of this -talk--the _pot-au-feu_ will be boiling over." - -She wore a great air of finality now and would have risen but for Rose -Marie's clinging arms. - -"Maman darling," pleaded the girl. - -"Nonsense!" retorted Mme. Legros decisively. - -"One little, tiny, very, very short quarter of an hour." - -"Nonsense." - -"I want so to know what he would say when we are alone--he could not -sit before me mute as a carp, and stiff as papa's wooden measure. I -want to hear his merry voice myself. I want to see--what he looks -like--when he laughs." - -"Nonsense," reiterated maman for the third time. - -But even as she spoke the word, she looked down upon the beautiful -upturned head, the glowing eyes, the quivering lips parted in earnest -pleading, and like the thistle-down in a gale, which she herself had -quoted, the worthy old woman's resistance fell away. - -"Of a truth thou'rt a rogue," she said more gently. - -"Fifteen minutes, Maman." - -"Thy father would not hear of it." - -"He need not know. When he goes down after dinner--to set the work for -the 'prentices." - -Maman hesitated one moment longer, but that final hesitation was -useless by now. The fortress had yielded to the powerful weapons of the -loved one in tears. - -"Very well," she said. And Rose Marie jumped to her feet with a little -cry of triumph. "But remember," continued maman with stern, upraised -finger, "it shall be ten minutes and no more." - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - --So that hour died - Like odour rapt into the winged wind - Borne into alien lands and far away. - --TENNYSON. - - -Thus it was that this day, after maman had cleared the debris of -dinner, and papa went downstairs to set the 'prentices to their -afternoon's work, that no sooner had Rose Marie sat down to her -harpsichord and begun to sing: - - "La nuit écoute et se penche sur l'onde - Pour y cueillir rien qu'un souffle d'amour," - -then maman gave a slight cry of surprise, and jumped to her feet -exclaiming: - -"Oh, _mon Dieu_! I had forgot the pot-au-feu--it must be boiling over," -and incontinently ran out of the room. - -Rose Marie continued her song. She was sitting with her back to the -light, and my lord straight in front of her: and as her young voice -rose and fell to the simple cadence of the old song, she was able to -throw many a veiled look in his direction. - -At first when maman ran away, he had made a movement as if he would -follow her, then seeing that Rose Marie remained at the harpsichord, he -seemed to think that mayhap courtesy compelled him to remain with her. -He sat down again in the high-backed arm chair and rested his head in -his hand. Every time that Rose Marie looked up she caught his deep-set -eyes fixed upon her. Strangely enough the look in them seemed quite -sad--indeed if it were possible in one so rich and in so high-born a -gentleman--Rose Marie would almost have imagined that my lord's whole -attitude was one which made appeal to her tenderness and even to her -pity. - -Then when the last note of her song died away in a soft murmur, my lord -rose and came up to her. - -"What a sweet voice you have, Rose Marie," he said in that even, gentle -voice with which he usually addressed her and which seemed to her -veiled with studied coldness, "and 'tis a tender song which you sang." - -"It pleases me, my lord, that it should find favour with you," she -replied demurely, the while she allowed her long lashes to veil the -light of excitement which danced in her eyes. - -"Nay! who am I that you should try to please me, dear heart?" he said -a trifle sadly, "rather is it I who with my whole mind and soul and -strength should strive to make you happy." - -"That were not very difficult, my lord." - -She would then and there have liked to give her excitement fuller rein, -to jump up, to clasp her hands together and to look up into his grave -face and say: "Only, only be kind and gentle to me, give me as much -love as ever you can--I am prepared to be the truest, most devoted, -most loving wife that e'er strove to be a joy to her lord. Give me -sunshine, and gaiety and laughter, and what meed of love you are able -to give." - -But she did not quite dare to say and do all that, for maman's -admonitions were still fresh in her mind, and her guardian angel would -of a surety have had to veil his face again before this unseemly -behaviour on the part of his turbulent charge. - -Therefore she added somewhat tamely: - -"I have been taught to be easily contented, and meseems that by -honouring me with your love, you, my lord, would be doing all that God -doth ask of you." - -Though she had spoken lightly, almost flippantly, for her heart was -glad, and her mind free from any presage of sorrow, his face, which all -along had been passing grave now looked deeply troubled at her words. - -"Doing all that God doth ask of me," he exclaimed with sudden -vehemence, whilst a tone of bitterness, which she could not understand, -rang through his usually clear and fresh voice. "Nay, little snowdrop, -therein you wrong divine justice--if indeed there be one. Dear heart, -were I from this time forth to shed drop by drop all the blood of my -veins, were I to give my life inch by inch, my flesh piece by piece -to secure your happiness, even then I would not be doing all that God -would ask of me." - -He had turned from her and while he spoke he paced up and down the -narrow room like some untamed creature fretful of its cage; then he -broke into a laugh--not the merry laugh which she had so oft heard -ringing through the house, but a harsh outburst of passionate sarcasm, -which had an undercurrent in it of deep and hidden sorrow. Rose Marie -felt a wealth of pity surging in her heart, when she heard that -mirthless laugh. Yet was it not passing strange that she, an humble -tradesman's daughter, with no knowledge of that great world in which -lived my lord, that she should thus dare to pity this noble, high-born -and rich English gentleman? But she could not combat the feeling and -her innocent blue eyes watching his restless movements, and that -troubled look on his face, were filled with the tears of womanly -compassion. - -She looked divinely pretty thus, sitting at the harpsichord, one -delicate hand idly resting on the ivory keys, from which almost -unconsciously she had just evoked one sweet and melancholy chord from -out the soul of the old instrument, like a long-drawn-out sigh of -unspoken sorrow. Her young bosom rose and fell beneath the folds of -the primly folded kerchief, and her upturned face showed the white -column of her throat round which nestled a string of pearls, large and -translucent--his bridal gift to her. - -He paused beside her, and in his expressive face the signs of a great -inward combat became strangely visible. Then he knelt down, close to -her, and with a curious gesture half masterful and half appealing he -took both her hands and imprisoned them in his own. He looked straight -into those tear-dimmed eyes, with a questioning look that seemed to -probe the very depths of her soul. - -"My lord you are troubled," she said gently. - -"Ay, little snowdrop," he replied, "deeply troubled at sight of the -exquisite purity which speaks to me with such mute eloquence from out -the depths of your blue eyes. How dare I, miserable wretch, drag you -from out that secluded garden of innocence wherein you have grown to -such perfect beauty. How dare I with impious hand guide you toward -that great outer world which lies so far beyond the glorious land of -your girlish dreams? It is a world, dear heart, wherein great monsters -dwell, pollution, sin and evil and that canker of corruption which will -inevitably mar the calyx of the snowdrop and cause her white petals to -droop at its touch." - -"I have no fear of that great world, my lord," she rejoined simply, -"since I will enter it in your company." - -"No, no, you must not talk like that, dear heart," he said with strange -persistence, "you must not trust me so. What do you know of me or of -my life? You so young, so pure, so exquisite, and I--" - -He paused and pushing her hands away with a rough, impetuous movement -he jumped to his feet and once more resumed his restless wanderings up -and down the room. - -"Have you ever wandered, little one, in the forests round Cluny," he -asked with one of those sudden transitions in voice and manner which -puzzled her so, "and paused beside that pool which the country folk -about there call the Lake of Sighs? Yes, I see from your telltale eyes -that you do remember it. Well then, you must oft have seen it lying -silent and stagnant beneath the shades of the overhanging willows, -whilst on its smooth, dark surface water lilies as white as snowdrops -rear their stately heads in June. You should see these in the spring -tall and majestic, with graceful upright stems and fragrant, wide-open -buds, which seem to invite with a kind of cold aloofness the rough -caresses and kisses of the bee. Tall and majestic like you, dear heart, -pure and coldly innocent like your soul--the spring, coy and cool, -smiles and passes by, leaving those lilies to face the scorching breath -of awakened summer. Have you stood beside the Lake of Sighs, little -one, when dying a summer draws out her last sigh of agony? When rank -weeds and poisonous plants begin to grow apace from out the slimy ooze -which encircles the pool, and throw out sinewy, death-dealing arms -along its peaceful surface? Then noisome trails of slugs and grime -skim the once pure waters of the pond and rank growths of coarse weeds -cover the slender stems of the lilies, and drag them down, down until -the stately flowers, weighted with mud-scattering rain bend their proud -heads to the mire, the while in their slimy hovels, loathsome toads -croak their chorus in unison. The world to which I must take you, -little snowdrop, is just such another pool, you the lily and I the -weed--and men and women the loud-voiced croakers who are always ready -to proclaim triumphantly the pollution of a work of God." - -Whilst he spoke he halted opposite to her and looking down into her -face he studied every line of it, watching for the first look of horror -which would mar its perfect peace. He was conscious of a strange desire -to see her afraid of him, to feel that at his words her innocence would -rebel, that if after what he had said he attempted to touch her, she -would shrink away in unexplainable horror. - -Now that he was alone with her for the first time, and could study -at leisure every line of her graceful form, the perfect shell which -contained a perfect soul, the first poisoned fangs of remorse fastened -themselves into his heart, and impatient of the monster's attack, he -strove to smother it, and thus longed to see her less trustful, less -innocent, even--God help him--less pure! - -Already he was searching for justification for that great wrong which -he was about to commit, nay which he did commit with every word of -gentleness which he spoke to her, with every moment that he spent in -her company. Therefore he tried to make his voice harsh and rough, he -did not want the child's regard, her trust, her allegiance. He would -have had her ambitious, sordid and grasping for in this he could -satisfy her by and bye, when he had all the promised riches in his -hands, and had made her Countess of Stowmaries. He would have had her -look on him as a necessary means to her own ends, as a man who would at -best be wholly indifferent to her, or if that could not be, then as a -man whom she would hate. - -But in spite of all he said, in spite of his harsh words, and strange -imageries, the meaning of which she scarce understood, yet almost -feared to guess, her face remained perfectly calm, and her eyes--still -tender and compassionate--met his in absolute, childlike serenity. - -"I am not afraid of entering that world, my lord," she said, "with you -to guide me." - -"What a brave snowdrop," he said, "nay, you foolish little daughter of -the frosts, you'll want an angel to guard you and to stand 'twixt you -and me. I begin to think that cold ice-maiden though you be, you must -at some time of your brief terrestrial existence have offended the -God who made you, since He has thought fit to punish you so severely -by giving you for husband the most abandoned sinner that ever defiled -His earth. Or was it in a former existence, dear heart, when you dwelt -amidst the snows that you roused the ire of devils to such an extent -that they swore to be revenged on you, once you were a woman and could -understand and feel. 'Twas a cowardly revenge of a surety, for there -were other men--less vile, less corrupt, less contemptible than he in -whose hand you so trustfully place yours. God forgive me, but meseems -that I do feel tempted to draw aside the veil of ignorance which -lies before your blue eyes, and to show you pictures of evil and of -wretchedness from which your calm soul would shrink in horror, and even -your serene virginity would recoil in fear. See the abandoned wretch -that I am! I would rouse terror in those eyes--which hitherto have been -the blue and opaque windows through which a placid soul hath gazed -upon the devilries of mankind--and gazing hath not seen. Dear heart, -how will you bear it, this first contact with pollution, and with sin; -my hand to guide you, my finger to be the one to point the hideous -way?--Broad the priests call it, and an easy descent to Hell, lined -with the grinning faces of monstrous ghouls, one of which is called -drunkenness, the other licentiousness, whilst blasphemy is the constant -companion of both--and right and left from the road itself stand those -hideous booths where poverty and degradation shrink out of sight in the -dark hours of the evening gloom, and where hovers--like a gigantic bat -with black and loathsome wings outspread and claw-like feet that grip -and tear--that cruel Titan, called Remorse. Little snowdrop, snow-white -and so pure, how will you trust after that, the hand that would guide -you still further on the way, the voice that in its agony of shame -would yet murmur in your ears promises of a turning out of the hideous -road, a turning which leads to happiness and peace?" - -His voice broke in a sigh which was almost a sob. Gradually as he spoke -he had drawn nearer to her, until his knee touched the ground, and his -head was bowed in his hands. But had he looked at her face even now -he would not on any line of it have seen the slightest sign of the -fear which he wished to evoke, nor of the loathing which he would have -conjured up, yet would dread to see. - -Only her eyes as pure, as childlike as before, were veiled in the tears -of infinite pity. There was silence for awhile in the little parlour, -her hands had fallen away from the keys of the harpsichord. Only the -old clock ticked solemnly on, marking the brief minutes wherein these -two souls met each other in this their first communion. Then as she -did not speak, his whole soul recoiled at thought of losing her and -a great dread seized him, lest after all she had understood, and in -understanding, turned away from him in fear. - -And humbly, gently, not daring to look up, and murmuring scarce above a -whisper, he said: - -"Little snowdrop, would you trust me still?" - -And whilst despite iron will, obstinacy and pride hot tears would surge -to his eyes and sear his aching lids, he suddenly felt a light touch, -soft and cool as a snowflake, a tiny hand resting upon his shoulder. - -"I trusted you ere this, my lord," she said simply, "trusted and -honoured you, mayhap a little feared you as my lord and master. But -now, methinks that a great sorrow lies buried in your heart--you choose -to call it sin--mayhap it is--that I do not know--I am a woman--soon to -be your wife, but never your judge, my lord. And if you have sinned, -then you stand nearer to me, who am so far from that perfection which, -alas! you see in me. If I feared you before, my lord--meseems that I -could love you now." - -To Michael Kestyon, with a life of insubordination behind him, a life -of debauchery, of loneliness and lovelessness, it seemed as if some -unknown Heaven had opened and he had his first vision of what paradise -might be. A paradise wherein voices of angels spoke to him of love, and -cool white hands, cold as snowflakes yet infinitely gentle, led him -towards that open door. That tiny snowflake fell from his shoulder onto -his own burning hands, and to his vague astonishment it did not melt at -the contact, but lay there cool and soft, mayhap a little trembling, -having suddenly changed into some fairy bird. - -Michael pressed his hot forehead against it, his eyes and then his -lips. His whole soul cried out mutely now in a passionate longing -for happiness. Womanly tenderness, womanly pity awaited him in that -paradise, the door of which stood open, and if honour long since -dormant called out loudly against treachery and against a trick, who -shall pronounce judgment on this man, if he had not the strength at -this moment to respond to that call? - -With his own hands now, with one word spoken by his own lips, he could -shut against himself those glorious gates of Heaven, and deliberately -turn his back on that brief vision of paradise, and walk once more down -that hideous path which leads straight to Hell. - -There were but the two courses open to him. The one was to take this -trusting, loving woman to his heart, to guard and keep her in happiness -and peace, whilst showering on her all the gifts which her weaker -nature might desire. He was rich now, would be richer still, he could -satisfy her ambition, and by constant love and tender care, he could -win her heart and her inner self in time, even though he had won her -person by a trick. - -The other course was the rugged path to which the inexorable hand of -almost barbaric honour pointed relentlessly, to tell her all and to -lose her forever. To throw back in his kinsman's face the price of -this girl's innocence, and then to go back to that life in London, the -drinking booths, the degrading hovels, the propinquity of abandoned -reprobates as despicable as he had been himself before he met her. - -Pity him if you can!--judge him not if you've never been tempted to -chose 'twixt life and living death, 'twixt happiness and degradation, -'twixt the hand of an angel and the gripping tentacles of devils. - -Pity him for he was only a man, with a burning thirst for happiness, a -mad longing for love and for peace. - -Michael Kestyon kissed the little hand which had confirmed the promise -of love spoken by the girl's pure lips. He looked up then and met her -eyes. Heaven alone knows what he would have said or done the next -moment. The Fates who in their distant, rock-bound cavern spin the -threads of destiny decreed that these two people should --ere another -word was spoken between them--be incontinently hurled from out the -realms of romance wherein they had wandered hand in hand for over ten -minutes. - -For that--as we know--was the time limit set by maman, for allowing her -daughter to be alone in the company of my lord. And Michael had only -just time to free the small imprisoned hand so that it might wander -back to the keys of the harpsichord ere Mme. Legros--rubicund, fussy -and prosy--made irruption into the room. - -Thus it was that for Michael Kestyon the gates of paradise remained for -the nonce invitingly open, nor did the Fates give him another chance to -close them against his own happiness. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - Love took up the Harp of Life and smote on all the chords with might; - Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. - --TENNYSON. - - -The old, majestic Church of St. Gervais had been made quite gay with -flowers. Good M. Legros was passing rich, thank God! He could gratify -his only child's every whim--however trivial--on this her wedding day. - -She had expressed a great desire to see the church quite full of -flowers--as many flowers as it could hold, and Papa Legros had -spent--so the gossips said--enough money in indulging this wish as -would have kept a dozen poor families in comfort for a dozen years. - -'Twas mid April and there were white roses from the King's -conservatories in Versailles, white hyacinths from Fontainebleau and -white violas from the walled-in gardens at Blois, there were white -violets and snowdrops and sweet-scented narcissi. They lay everywhere -in heavy fragrant bunches and wreaths fashioned by loving hands, -untutored in the art of decoration. The high altar groaned beneath the -weight of huge brass pots wherein old-fashioned stocks reared their -sweet-scented heads. The Virgin in her niche, the saints upon their -altars almost disappeared beneath their monster crowns of violets and -of roses. - -The central nave was filled with a motley crowd, attired in holiday -clothes, come to see the tailor's daughter wedded to the English milor. -A few simple folk there were--gaffers and cronies who had watched Rose -Marie as she grew up in her father's back shop, and who came with -shaking heads and ominous murmurs to see the last of the poor child, -who of a surety would be drowned when she sailed upon the sea or if she -did survive that calamity, would certainly be most unhappy in a land -of evil-doers, and of cruel, red-haired, large-toothed men. But there -were others, too, mere idlers these, who had never before set eyes on -an English milor, and were curious to know if what was said of these -English were true, namely that they were big as giants and like them -ferocious, with fangs instead of teeth, and fists as heavy as bullocks. - -Under one of the arches, quite close to the chancel, special places had -been reserved and chairs covered with red cloth. Here a small group of -gaily-dressed ladies and gentlemen had assembled, gilded butterflies -flown from out their silken nets over in the St. Germain quarter and -even from the Louvre and Versailles; gentlemen of the court and of His -Majesty's bedchamber with their ladies in stiff brocaded paniers and -silken skirts which made a soft swishing sound as the wearers turned -to right or left to lend an ear to the whisperings of a gallant or to -murmur a word of scandal in that of a friend. - -They had crossed the river and wandered into this abandoned quarter of -the city from idle curiosity. Rumours had reached the Court that the -Earl of Stowmaries, one of the richest young gallants of London, had -come to wed the daughter of the Paris breeches-maker, a man well-known -to all. His Majesty had deigned to seem interested, Mme. de Montespan -expressed a desire to see this milor, whom gossip had reported as -handsome and had endowed with the romantic history of early life -spent in distant lands, where he was kept in poverty and exiled by a -rapacious kinsman, who robbed him of his inheritance. - -Gossip as a rule had mingled truth with fiction, but the marquise was -interested and brought her brilliantly decked-out sycophants in her -train--gentlemen and ladies who sunned themselves in the sunshine of -her graces,--to witness the ceremony of St. Gervais. From this group -beneath the archway came the constant murmur of fluttering fans, the -rustle of silks, the creaking of chairs on the flag-stones of the -floor--also at times a giggle quickly suppressed, a cry of astonishment -or amusement held in check only by the solemnity of the surroundings. - -The atmosphere was waxing oppressive, despite the cold April breeze -which found its way into the edifice through the chinks of many -cracked window panes. The scent of the poet's narcissus, heavy and -intoxicating, filled nostrils and brain with its overpowering savour; -the roses already inclined to droop added their faded fragrance to the -air, mingling, too, with the penetrating odour of white Roman hyacinths -and the pungent smell of primroses and of violas, whilst through it -all the heavy fumes of incense rose upwards to the high-vaulted roof -and wrapped the statues of saints, the small side altars and tall -embroidered banners in their mystery-creating clouds. - -Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris had just entered, robed in gorgeous -cope and mitre and followed by the clergy of St. Gervais and the band -of acolytes clad in scarlet and white. Behind heavy curtains, a band of -skilled musicians from His Majesty's own opera house were playing an -Introit from one of M. Lulli's most exquisite scores. - -All necks were craned to catch sight of the man and woman who were -kneeling on crimson cushions at the foot of the chancel steps. - -The bride could scarce be seen though her figure looked dainty in her -simple white gown; but her golden head was hidden beneath a filmy veil -of delicate Mechlin lace, which fell right over her face and far back -to the edge of her gown. - -But every one could see milor well, for his dark head towered above -those of the spectators. And he held his head very erect, some folk -thinking that on this occasion a man should look less proud and -certainly less defiant. He was gorgeously clad in surcoat and vest of -delicate ivory-tinted silk, with exquisite embroideries of gold and -silver which the gaffers thought must have cost a mint of money. But -then English milors were all so rich, and this one--so 'twas said--was -one of the richest amongst all; he certainly was one of the most -handsome. Goodly to look at was the verdict of the women, with his dark -hair innocent of those monstrous perruques which the _jeunesse dorée_ -of Paris and Versailles had lately affected. He wore neither beard nor -moustache and every one could see what a firm, strong mouth and jaw he -had--an obstinate one murmured some of the ladies, a masterful one, -sighed the others. - -Mme. de Montespan enthroned on a velvet-covered armchair made vain -attempts to draw his dark, deep-set eyes to hers. - -But milor looked straight before him, and his arms were crossed over -his broad chest. When Monseigneur kneeled at the foot of the altar -and began to recite the first verse of the Introibe, milor knelt too, -beside his bride, and buried his face in his hands. - -M. and Mme. Legros clad in their Sunday best, knelt quite close to the -bridal pair. Maman in rich puce-coloured brocade, her scanty locks -hidden beneath a remarkable confection of lace was frequently mopping -her eyes, the while M. Legros, master tailor to the Court of Paris, -tried to conceal the inordinate pride which he felt at seeing his only -child wedded to so great a lord. - -Now Monseigneur bent his broad shoulders and sotto voce murmured the -Confiteor. Rose Marie in the innocence of her heart prayed to the -Virgin to make her quite, quite perfect, as good as my lord thought her -to be, lest he be deceived and disappointed in her. She had not spoken -to him alone again after that happy yet sad quarter of an hour when she -had seen his proud head bent before her, and felt that unutterable pity -for him, which so quickly then became unutterable love. - -That his self-accusations were only the result of an over-sensitive -conscience she firmly believed, and if in his early youth my lord -had sinned as other young men sin from thoughtlessness and want of a -guiding hand, who was she that she should judge him, now that he had -honoured her with his love? - -And as Monseigneur at the altar read the Holy Gospel wherein the Good -God himself enjoins man and woman to cleave to one another, Rose -Marie's whole heart went out to the man by her side, and the magnetism -of her enthusiastic sacrifice of her whole self to him drew his dark -eyes down to hers. - -Michael, as in a dream, saw the exquisite white-clad figure close to -him; never--he thought--had he beheld aught so lovely, so pure, so -worthy of love. Then looking from her to the great altar before him, he -saw through the moving clouds of incense phantom figures and objects -from out his past. - -There in that dark recess, beside the niche of that mitred saint, -faces of men who had sneered at his misfortunes, the men of law who -had plundered him, and a forest of outstretched palms, oily and -smooth awaiting the bribes. There again high up in the groined roof, -his companions in those far-off days in Flanders, faces red with the -excesses of the day, hands soiled with the evil deeds of night; the -miserable camp followers in the wake of a starving mercenary army, -dissolute men and intemperate women; and all around him the poor, -miserable scum of London, the men with whom he had herded, beasts like -himself, no more human since wretchedness had killed all manhood in -that perpetual, that degrading search after forgetfulness. - -All these monsters and ghoulish phantoms grinned at Michael now, -polluting the sacred edifice with their imaginary presence. They -floated corpse-like on the shifting clouds of the ever-rising incense -and taunted Michael with their grinning faces, daring him now to turn -from the broad path of happiness whither the snow-white hand of an -ignorant girl was so trustingly leading him. - -"Follow the path of honour, follow truth and loyalty now, Michael, -and to-morrow thou'lt be one of us again: one with the grinning -and dishonest sceptics, one with the profligate crowd of mercenary -soldiers, one with the flotsam and jetsam of criminal London, the -drunkards, the roisterers, God's damned upon earth. Truth leads the way -to perdition, follow truth now, Michael, an you can." - -And as, up high on the altar steps, Monseigneur now held up for the -adoration of the multitude the sacred mysteries which no brain of man -can understand, Michael bowing his head and looking within himself with -searching, conscience-stricken eyes, saw nothing but loyalty to the -girl who was thus unwittingly snatching him from out the yawning abyss -of misery and degradation, of humiliation for himself and starvation -for his mother. - -Anon Monseigneur whispered the Pater Noster, and after that he -turned and with hand upheld, three fingers pointing upwards to the -mystery-hidden vault, he pronounced the solemn benediction on Michael -Kestyon and Rose Marie his wife. Not a sound stirred in the vast and -ancient church, save the voice of the Archbishop as it rose high above -the chancel, and the blessing spoken by him seemed to descend with -unseen wings on the bowed heads of the two young people whom so strange -a fate was linking together. - -To her--the girl--it was a Sacrament--this confirmation of the vows -spoken in her name when she was too young even to lisp them; for him it -was the word of honour of a man who throughout a rough life had never -succeeded in burying honour out of sight. - -Both pronounced their vows without thought of ever rebelling against -them. Both pronounced the solemn "I will" with fervour as well as -gladness. The assistants almost held their breath. Instinctive awe had -silenced every chattering tongue, stilled every careless laugh. - -My lord's voice rang out clear and distinct in the midst of that hushed -reverence, and more than one fair dame accustomed to the insipid -gallantries of the Court of Versailles sighed for the latent and rugged -passion which rang out through that firm "I will." - -Rose Marie's young heart gave a great leap for joy. - -"He loves me," she whispered exultantly to herself, despite the -solemnity of the moment, the sacredness of her surroundings, "he loves -me, he loves me. I can tell it by the sound of his voice." - -And she had to press her bouquet of roses to her lips to suppress -the little cry of joy which almost escaped her throat. Perhaps she -did not altogether understand at this moment what she herself meant -when she thought "he loves me!" Mayhap some of those ladies in the -stiff brocades, who cast admiring glances at my lord knew and guessed -much more of what went on in his mind than did the simple tradesman's -daughter with the innocent mind and the pure heart of childhood still -undefiled within her. - -And now Monseigneur came right down the altar steps and my lord and -Rose Marie had to rise, and to pass through the wrought-iron gates of -the rood screen, then pause, standing just below the communion rail. -Monseigneur stood there awaiting them, and the good curé of St. Gervais -was near him holding a jewelled salver whereon rested two circlets -of gold. My lord took one of these between his fingers and some one -whispered in Rose Marie's ear to hold out her hand. - -From far away came in sweet muffled sounds the opening bars of Lulli's -Beati Omnes exquisitely played on the string instruments. All round -Rose Marie's feet lay a carpet of white roses which sent their last -dying fragrance into the air. She felt my lord's strong hand grasping -her own and the tiny band of gold being slipped on her finger--the sign -of her bondage to her lord; she was so happy that she could have cried -for joy, so happy that she longed to kiss that cold little circlet -which now irrevocably bound her to him. - -She raised her eyes and saw his dark head bent just over her hand, and -it seemed as if a magnetic fluid ran from his veins into hers, for she -felt the passion which quivered in his pulse, and though she might not -wholly understand it as yet, she nevertheless responded to it with all -the strength of her young nature full of the joy of love and of life. - -"May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob be with you -and remain with you always." - -Monseigneur had begun to speak the final prayer. Bride and bridegroom -had partaken of the Sacrament together, and Monseigneur had declared -that the other sacrament, that of matrimony, had indissolubly now -renewed the ties which already bound them to one another since -childhood. This was not a marriage, he said, but the repetition of -solemn vows made in their name when they were too young to understand, -the consecration by the Church of those bonds which she forged for them -eighteen years ago. - -The solemn Amen was pronounced and sung; the King's musicians played -the first bars of a stirring wedding march specially composed for this -great occasion by Maître Colasse of His Majesty's orchestra. There was -a general movement amongst the spectators, a great sigh of excited -satisfaction as Monseigneur having stood for a few moments whispering -final admonitions to milor, now turned and walked with slow steps out -through the chancel door. - -One by one the glittering group of gorgeously-clad priests and acolytes -disappeared out through the narrow opening. The strains of the hidden -orchestra swelled in glorious volume until they filled every corner -of the vast building, like a pæan of triumph and of joy. There was a -general frou-frou of silken skirts, a clink of swords, a scraping of -chairs against the flagged floor, as my lord now led his young bride -down the nave. He pressed her trembling hand against his side, the -while he frowned--despite himself--at this crowd of peering faces, -this sea of importunate looks which made him restive and impatient. -He longed to take his snowdrop away with him, out of this indifferent -throng, far, far away to some hidden nook among the Kentish hills, -there where the lime trees were just beginning to unfold their -delicate leaves of emerald tinged with gold, where lying on a carpet -of primroses and violets, beneath a cool, grey sky, his burning head -fanned by the cold, spring breezes, he could kneel at her feet and tell -her that with her small icy tendrils she had already twined herself -around his heart; that her blue eyes, cold and pure as those of a -forget-me-not beside a brook, had taught the miserable reprobate his -first lesson of love. - -Then when the pale tints of the limes turned to a more vivid green, -when primroses had paled beneath the shadows of brilliant Lent lilies, -then he would try his hand at the great miracle of which he dreamed, -the transmutation of the white snowdrop into a glowing, crimson rose. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - Sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl. - --A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. - - -"By the Mass, but the blackguard bears himself bravely! And you, my -lord, have no cause to be ashamed of your substitute." - -It was Lord Rochester who spoke. He, together with Lord Stowmaries -and Sir John Ayloffe, was standing on the top of the steps beneath -the ancient stone portcullis which surmounts the porch. They formed a -compact little group, which gained distinction from the rest of the -motley throng, by the sober cut of the English-made clothes, and by the -drooping plumes of the hats--a fashion long since discarded in France. - -Michael Kestyon with his bride on his arm had just come out of the -church. She, wrapped in cloak and hood--for the spring day was chilly -and the east wind keen--looked little more for the moment than a small -bundle of humanity desirous above all of escaping observation. - -But Michael for all the world looked the picture of the soldier of -fortune, defiant and conscious of danger, ready to walk straight into -that yawning abyss, at the bottom of which lurks a mysterious death, -yet disdainful to evade it, too proud to halt, too obstinate to turn -back. - -As he came out of the porch, a violent gust of wind caught the folds of -his cloak, and lashed him in the face, whipping up the swiftly-coursing -blood which the solemnity of the religious service, the drowsy -influence of faded roses had lulled into temporary somnolence. The -glare of the young April sun dazzled him, after the sombre, grey tones -of the majestic chancel; the pupils of his eyes contracted to a pin's -point, making the eyes themselves seem pale in colour, and tawny as -those of a wild beast sweeping the desert with great savage orbs. There -was altogether for the moment in the man's expression a strange look of -dreamy aloofness. His eyes wandered over the crowd but obviously they -recognised no individual face. - -No wonder that Lord Rochester--essentially a man himself and a despiser -of the other sex--gazed with ungrudging admiration at this splendid -blackguard, who bore the stamp of virility on every line of his massive -frame, and who seemed to defy contempt and dare contumely to reach him. -Looking at Michael now it seemed impossible to think that he could ever -regret any action which he had set his mind to do. Compunction is for -the weak who is led astray, who fears gibes and dreads humiliation, but -this man had donned an armour of pride and of ruthless ambition which -neither sneers nor contempt could ever penetrate. - -He might be a blackguard--he was one by every code of moral or -religious civilisation, but in his most evil moments he was never -paltry and never vile. - -"I feel no longer any sorrow for the girl," continued Lord Rochester -after awhile. "Odd's fish! Were I a woman I would not complain at the -bridegroom. And withal she looked vastly pleasing as a bride, and -methinks Michael Kestyon, too, is overmuch in luck's way. What say you, -Ayloffe? are you not grieved that you did not take the entire business -on your own shoulders, rather than depute that good-looking young -reprobate to earn a fortune and an exquisite bride to boot?" - -Sir John frowned. Some thought, such as the one expressed by Rochester, -had mayhap crossed his own mind during the past three weeks--but this -was not for other people to see. He, too, watched Michael's tall -retreating figure, as he led Rose Marie down the stone steps, giving -it ungrudging admiration and also the tribute of secret envy, until a -crowd of friends and servants closed in round the bridal pair and hid -them both from view. - -Then Sir John turned to his friends and said drily: - -"My lord of Rochester is ever ready for a joke. I desired this scheme -to succeed, and obviously the worthy tailor yonder would never have -mistaken me for a man who was seven years old eighteen years ago. -But I'll confess, an it'll please you, my lord and also my lord of -Stowmaries, that I do deem Michael Kestyon a lucky dog. One hundred and -twenty thousand pounds and such a bride! By Gad, had I been able to put -back the hand of time some twenty years--" - -"The bride would have loathed you," retorted Stowmaries with an -unpleasant snarl. "She'll fall in love with Michael and clear me of -remorse." - -"Surely my lord of Stowmaries is not troubled with any such -unpleasantness?" said Ayloffe imperturbably. "'Tis too late now to give -way to remorse. By to-morrow's dawn, my lord, you'll be as free as -air to wed whom you please. That simpering tailor's daughter will not -have a rag of reputation left to her name, and you can repudiate her -whenever you feel so inclined." - -"And that will be at once," replied Stowmaries, who, of a truth, was -not experiencing the slightest pricks of conscience. The thought of -this mock wedding which he had actually witnessed to-day had been -dwelling in his mind for close upon a month. He had envisaged it from -every point of view and had completely exonerated himself from blame -in the matter. The image of his fair Julia had quite succeeded in -screening from his mental vision all thought of the unfortunate girl -whom he was thus condemning to disgrace and to shame, and whilst he -steadily looked on Michael as a miserable blackguard he firmly believed -that when once he had paid over the price of an innocent girl's -betrayal he himself would remain absolutely free from blame. - -"I have made all enquiries," now continued Sir John drawing his two -friends out of earshot of the crowd. "I understand that there are to -be rare doings to-day in Master the tailor's back shop--a banquet, -dancing and I imagine a good deal of wine drinking and licentious -entertainment. These French bourgeois have no knowledge of decency and -Michael Kestyon, methinks, did not learn to be squeamish whilst herding -with the scum of mercenary armies in Flanders and Brandenburg. At -five o'clock however a coach is to take the bridal pair as far as St. -Denis--" - -He paused a moment, then added with a cynical smile, almost cruel in -its callousness: - -"The first stage of their journey to Havre." - -Lord Rochester laughed loudly. He had all along only seen the humour of -the adventure. A woman's reputation destroyed, a woman won by a trick, -by Gad! these were of every-day occurrence in the life of a fashionable -gentleman. Indeed he thought that both Stowmaries and Ayloffe were -making far too much of the whole business, and though he, too, called -Michael Kestyon a rogue, yet he admired him for his pluck and envied -him for his good fortune. - -In his heart of hearts he much regretted that on the memorable night -when the adventure was proposed, he had been too drunk to accept its -terms or to enter the lists for it himself. - -"Nay then!" he said lustily, "we'll all call on the turtle doves at St. -Denis to-night, and whilst my lord of Stowmaries pays up like a man for -all that he gains by Michael's roguery, Sir John Ayloffe and I will -entertain the bride by hoodwinking her still further into the belief -that she is of a truth Countess of Stowmaries forever and ever Amen, as -the Archbishop told her this day." - -"I should be glad to get to St. Denis to-night," rejoined Stowmaries. -"I owe Michael seventy thousand pounds, which according to promise I -should pay him to-day. The draft for it on Master Vivish the goldsmith -is in my pocket now. The sooner I am rid of it the more pleased will I -be." - -"Then will I at once and see about a coach," said Sir John. "We can -make a start at about six o'clock, one hour after the dove hath flown -out of the paternal cote." - -"Nay, old Daniel Pye will see about the coach," rejoined Stowmaries. -"He hath met a crony who speaks English and knows his way about Paris -better than we do. He'll get us what we want." - -"Daniel Pye!" exclaimed Sir John in astonishment. "What doth my -kinswoman's faithful henchman in this depraved city?" - -"Mistress Julia Peyton desired him to do certain commissions for -her here in Paris. When she heard that I was making the journey she -requested that I should allow her servant to travel in the company of -my men, since he was unversed in foreign ways, and knew nothing of the -French language." - -Sir John made no further comment, but he wondered vaguely in his mind -as to why the fair Julia had sent old Pye over to Paris. The question -of commissions was of course nonsense. Daniel could no more choose a -length of silk or even of grogram, than he could trim a lace coif or -fashion a pinner. - -"Mayhap my fair coz is jealous," was Sir John's mental comment and the -conclusion to which he arrived with that convenient cynicism of his, -with which he usually disposed of any problem wherein feminine motives -or feminine actions played an important part. "She hath mayhap deputed -that old sinner, Daniel Pye, to watch over young Stowmaries and to make -report in case the wiles of this wicked city make my lord forget his -allegiance to herself." - -Thus content with his own explanation of the circumstance, Sir John -dismissed the old serving-man from his mind, but not without deciding -to question Pye closely as soon as he had an opportunity so to do. - -Most of the crowd had dispersed by now. The bridal pair with good M. -and Mme. Legros were being escorted by a merry crowd of 'prentices, -servants and friends as far as the worthy tailor's house in the Rue -de l'Ancienne Comédie. This cortège had already turned the angle -of the street, and the noise of laughter and of songs sung to the -accompaniment of flute and _hautbois_ was gradually dying away in the -distance. - -The few laggards who remained behind were discussing the chief actors -in the pageant which they had witnessed. Mme. de Montespan and her -gaily chattering court were gossiping whilst waiting for their chaises. - -"Ah!" sighed Madame provokingly, "are all these English milors as -handsome as that? I vow our gallants of Versailles have much to learn -from them, if indeed they all look like milor of Stowmaries." - -And while the gallants there present protested in dismay an -ill-concealed jealousy, Madame's roving eyes had discovered the small -group of Englishmen close by, and amongst them had recognised Lord -Rochester. - -"Ah, milor," she exclaimed, "I pray you approach. I did not know you -were in Paris! What brings you hither, I pray?" - -Lord Rochester, obedient to the call, had already advanced, and was -duly allowed to kiss those finger tips whereon royal lips were ever -wont to linger. Englishmen were in high favour with Madame for the next -half hour at least. - -"Why are you in Paris?" she repeated. - -"To catch a glimpse of the most beautiful woman in Europe," replied my -lord of Rochester with bold gallantry. - -"Then you'll come see her in Versailles," she replied, drinking in the -full measure of his flattering speech, the obvious falseness of which -would not have deceived a child. - -"Nay, now that I have seen her!" he retorted, "I must hie me home to -England again." - -"So soon! Then why did you come? Nay!" she added with mock severity, -"Do not repeat your pretty lie again. You could not imagine to see -me in this old church to-day. I came out of curiosity, to see this -strange, ill-assorted marriage. Tell me what makes the rich Earl of -Stowmaries wed a tailor's daughter?" - -"He was not always rich, nor always Earl of Stowmaries. The ceremony -was not a marriage. It was a confirmation." - -"And you came to witness it?" - -"And to take part in an adventure." - -"I might have guessed. Who is the lady?" - -"The bride of half an hour ago." - -"I do not understand," said Mme. de Montespan with a frown. "Pray -explain." - -"I'll do even more than that, Madame la Marquise," retorted Lord -Rochester as he stepped a little to one side and disclosed the person -of my lord of Stowmaries. "I will with your permission present to -you my friend the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, the _only_ Earl -of Stowmaries whom I or His Majesty the King of England would ever -acknowledge as such." - -The Marquise looked very bewildered, her great violet-hued eyes opened -wide and wandered in puzzlement from the face of Lord Rochester to that -of his friend. - -"The only Earl of Stowmaries!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I vow -milor that you have vastly puzzled me. Then who was that handsome young -milor who just now swore to love the tailor's daughter, the while the -hearts of two Duchesses, and one other Marquise besides myself were -pining for his glance." - -My lord of Rochester, however, kept Madame on the tenter-hooks of -expectation, whilst he affected the elaborate presentation of his -friend which the etiquette of the time demanded. He introduced my lord -of Stowmaries to Madame la Marquise de Montespan, and performed a like -service for Sir John Ayloffe. Then only did he partly satisfy Madame's -curiosity. - -"The young reprobate," he said airily, "whom the most beautiful -Marquise in Christendom has honoured with a glance of her Myosotis eyes -is--well! just a young reprobate, whom my lord of Stowmaries here is -paying handsomely to take an unwelcome bride from off his shoulders. -My lord of Stowmaries was seven years old when he wedded the tailor's -daughter--now he has other matrimonial views--also a handsome cousin -who was not averse to stepping into his shoes for this occasion which -we have all witnessed to-day. He'll be well paid--neither bride nor -bridegroom will have much to complain of--the bridegroom was a wastrel -ere my lord of Stowmaries proposed this adventure--and the bride is -only a tailor's daughter. She will have a handsome husband, if Michael -Kestyon chooses to acknowledge her--if not there is always the nunnery -handy for those saintly women like herself who have made a temporary -if not wholly voluntary diversion from the strict paths of decorum and -virtue. Et puis voila!" - -Mme. de Montespan had listened attentively to this tale so cynically -told; her friends, too, had closed in round her. Every one was vastly -interested and I assure you not the least in the world shocked. The -Court of le Roi Soleil abounded in such adventures, the convents of -France were filled with the grief-stricken victims of the dissolute -idlers of the day. Lord Rochester's story evoked nothing but amusement, -and Lord Stowmaries at once became the centre of an admiring little -crowd. - -"But par ma foi!" commented Madame with a sigh not altogether free from -envy, "you English gentlemen are mighty blackguards!" - -"We do our best, Madame," rejoined Rochester lightly, "to emulate our -confrères in France." - -"His Majesty shall hear of your gallantries this very night. I -pray you, Lord Rochester, do not leave us yet, nor you, my lord of -Stowmaries, nor you, Sir Ayloffe. His Majesty would delight in your -company. He so loves a bold adventure. And I am much mistaken he'll -wish to see our handsome young reprobate, too--Michael Kestyon, did you -say?" she added, prettily mispronouncing the English vowels, "'tis an -ugly name--but oh! he hath fine eyes and a manly bearing--and did he -really do it for money?" - -She called Lord Stowmaries to her side and closely questioned him, -until she knew the entire discreditable story from beginning to -end. Her amusement in the recital of the tale, her appreciation of -the adorable wickedness which had prompted the scheme for the cruel -hoodwinking of another woman, did much to dissipate once and for all -any lingering thoughts of remorse which Stowmaries may still have been -troubled with. - -Nothing would do but the imperious beauty's decree that after the call -at St. Denis--which was the call of honour since it meant the paying -of money for services rendered--the three English gentlemen must -straightway back to Versailles, where they would be sure of a cordial -welcome from His Majesty and from every lady and gentleman at his Court. - -"And," urged Madame, when at last she was installed in her chaise and -was bidding farewell to her array of courtiers, "if you can bring that -adorable young blackguard with you, you'll earn a gratified smile from -the lips of King Louis, and I'll promise not to do more than turn his -head and make him forget that he was paid in order to wed the daughter -of a tailor--brrr--the thought makes me shudder. The rogue is an -Apollo, milors, else a Hercules--and has just that wicked look which -makes us poor women tremble and which we adore." - -And with this parting shot levelled at those who would have fought to -the death for praise such as this, Madame ordered her serving-men to -bear her away. - -Rochester, satisfied that he had sown the seeds of the most amusing -and most comprehensive piece of scandal that had ever amused the -jaded monarchs of two rival kingdoms, turned to his friends for final -approval. Ayloffe was distinctly appreciative of the new move, but -Stowmaries with that shiftiness peculiar to weak characters was not -quite sure if it had been premature. - -Anyhow the draft for seventy thousand pounds on Master Vivish seemed -to burn a hole in the pocket of his elegant surcoat. He was longing to -be rid of all obligations in the matter, firmly convinced as he was -when he had made Michael richer by one hundred and twenty thousand -pounds and himself poorer by that vast sum, this tiresome feeling of -uncertainty would leave him, and he could once more enjoy life in its -full--life with the prospect of adorable Mistress Julia as a constant -companion by his side. - -He and his friends walked back to the hostelry where they had put up -for the night. There Stowmaries called for Daniel Pye in order to give -him instructions about getting a coach ready for the trip to St. Denis. - -But it seems that Daniel had gone out earlier in the day and no one -knew whither he had gone. But there was no difficulty about the coach. -The amiable host of the uncomfortable little inn assured MM. les milors -that one would be ready by half-past five of the clock and that the -journey to St. Denis could be accomplished in something less than three -hours. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - The man was my whole world all the same - With his flowers to praise or his weeds to blame - And either or both to love. - --BROWNING. - - -The workshop of Master Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty the King -of France, had been transformed into a vast assembly-room. The big -central tables whereon usually sat cross-legged the 'prentices and -stitchers, had been pushed to one side, right along the wall where -it now groaned beneath the weight of pasties, and of pies, of a lamb -roasted whole, of dishes of marrow bones, of prawns and of cheese, -amongst which dishes and platters, the bottles of good Burgundy and of -wine of Navarre, and the jugs of metheglin and hypocras reared their -enticing heads. - -The centre of the room was given over to dancing. The wooden floor had -been greased and polished until it had become slippery to the feet, -whilst in a corner raised upon a wooden platform covered with crimson -cloth a band of musicians were playing good lilting, swinging measures -for a dance. None of your simpering minuets or slow-going pavanes for -these young people; but something with a good lively tune in it, and -plenty of noise and banging of the small drum and cymbal, so that -a youngster could have a chance of gripping a wench well round the -waist and of turning her round and round until she became so giddy, so -breathless and so hot that she had to cry for mercy even at the price -of a sounding kiss. - -For close upon an hour now the musicians had played the same rousing -tune, and for close upon an hour indefatigable feet--some clad in shoe -leather, others with hard bare soles beating the polished floor--had -been raising up a mighty cloud of dust which settled on pasties and on -cheese, on the big drum and on perspiring faces. Cheeks were crimson -from the exertion, short hair and long hair, curly and straight hung -limply over sweating, greasy foreheads. Pinners were getting awry, -displaying more bosom than prudery would otherwise allow. To right and -left surcoats and vests were being cast aside and flung across the room -leaving bare arms and chests to view, or else a shirt more full of -tatters than of stitches. - -Daylight still came streaming in for it was only four o'clock and -_les mariés_ would not be leaving for at least another hour. In the -meanwhile M. Legros had much ado to keep the curious, the idle, the -impertinent from his doorstep, for, look you! though the hospitable -abode of the goodly tailor was open on this great occasion to all and -sundry friends and acquaintances who wished to eat and drink and to -make merry, yet there was no intention of permitting every shiftless -vagabond to come and partake of the cheer. - -Good Papa Legros had planted two of his most stalwart assistants at the -door, with orders to admit no one who did not bear a familiar face, and -if any one prove importunate, why then the end of a whip-lash or even a -stout stick should drive impudence away. - -Thus it was that when Master Daniel Pye--the faithful henchman of fair -Mistress Peyton--presented himself at the tailor's shop in the Rue de -l'Ancienne Comédie, he was incontinently refused admittance. - -"I desire to speak with M. Legros, tailor to His Majesty the King of -France," growled Daniel Pye in excessively bad French, for he knew -nothing of the gibberish and had only learnt this phrase off by heart -like a parrot that jabbers without understanding. - -"Then thou silly lout of a buffle-headed Englishman, thou'lt have to -wait with thy desire until to-morrow." - -"I desire to speak with M. Legros, tailor to His Majesty the King of -France," repeated Pye mechanically. It was the only sentence which he -knew, and he had been assured by his crony that the magic phrase would -ope the doors for him without any difficulty. - -"Get thee gone, and come back to-morrow," retorted the stalwart -sentinel. - -"I desire to speak with--" - -"An thou'lt not go at once," shouted the tailor's irascible cutter, -"I'll give thee a taste of a French stick across thy English shoulders." - -"I desire--" - -Bang! came the stout stick crashing down on worthy Pye's broad back, -quickly bent in order to check the strength of the blow. - -But he held his ground. - -"Thou'lt go to Paris in company with my lord," the mistress had said -to him peremptorily, "and on the day on which the daughter of Master -Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty the King of France weds an -English gentleman, thou'lt to the house of that same Master Legros, and -thou'lt deliver him this letter--to him and to no one else--and without -saying whence thou comest, nor who it was that sent thee. Thou'lt go to -him one hour after the religious ceremony of matrimony shall have been -performed in the church and before the newly-wedded pair have quitted -the bride's parental home." - -Daniel Pye had presented himself according to instructions. He had -safely hidden in his breast pocket the letter which he was to deliver -to the tailor of his Majesty the King of France, and to no one else. If -he failed in the discharge of his duty, he knew that his fair mistress -would punish him mercilessly, probably dismiss him from her service -altogether and send him--old and unfit for other work--to starve in his -remote East Anglian village. - -At best there were plenty of subordinates in Mistress Peyton's -household who would only too gladly wield the lash on him who never -spared it to others. Therefore Daniel Pye held his ground. The more -blows he received, the more sure would he be of the indulgence of his -own mistress. He had a tough hide, and after all is said and done, one -does not die of a beating. So he bore the blows of the stick on his -back, and the stinging swish of whipcord round his legs. He knew quite -well that on occasions such as marriage-feasts or other merrimaking -days, 'prentices and young assistants would have their bit of fun. - -He had had his own many a time. So when his back ached overmuch, and -his legs were more sore than he could stand, he gave up all further -attempts to force his way into the house and beat a retreat in the rear -of the good-natured crowd. - -He would, he thought, find a means to speak to Master Legros a little -later on, when every one's attention would be more fully concentrated -on merrimaking, and the door was not so closely guarded. - -When Papa Legros heard of the incident he was vastly amused, then he -bethought himself that mayhap the persistent English lout had some -command for him for some rich clothes on behalf of one or other of the -elegant milors who were in Paris at this moment--friends of my Lord -Stowmaries, mayhap. Master Legros was vastly perturbed, and sent one -of his 'prentices to search for the Englishman in the crowd, and to -bring him hither forthwith. But Master Daniel Pye with that stolidity -peculiar to his race had gone very quietly off to a neighbouring coffee -house to nurse his sores, to drink mulled ale and to await events. - -In the meanwhile within the house itself much time had been spent in -eating and drinking, as the debris which at this hour littered Mme. -Legros' kitchen could well testify. The banquet had lasted for nearly -two hours and had gone on at intervals ever since. M. Legros had made -a speech which had caused his fair young daughter to blush and made -every one there clap mugs against the table and shout: "Long live! long -live!" until the old rafters and beams shook with the mighty echo. - -One or two buxom maids of all work, with muscular, bare arms and -streaming, red faces had since then brought in fresh relays of -victuals, and any number of bottles of wine--quite enough for every -'prentice in the shop to get as drunk as any lord. - -The noise in the back shop was now incessant and the shouting of -the dancers, the screams of the girls, the laughing and hooting -of the boys, almost drowned the cymbal, _hautbois_ and big drum. -The intoxication of pleasure had whipped up the blood of all these -youngsters. Ay! and of the sober folk, too, for behold Mme. Legros in -her beautiful puce silk footing it with good M. Dumas, the shoesmith, -and displaying a length of stockinged leg such as no decent matron -should show except to her husband. - -But what would you? This is an occasion such as only occurs once -in a lifetime: the marriage of an only daughter, and that to the -handsomest, richest, most noble seigneur that ever dwelt at the Court -of the King of England. - -Then _vogue la galère_! Let us dance and make merry! Dance until every -sinew in the body aches and clothes slip off dripping shoulders. - -"_Mais va donc! vieille tortue!_" shouted some of the young 'prentices -to the musicians as these poor wretches, perspiring profusely, -straining their arms and puffing out their cheeks tried to keep up the -measure to the required rapidity. - -"_C'est un enterrement par Dieu!_" yelled another, as he whirled his -partner round until both her little feet gave way and she and the -indefatigable youth collapsed with a violent thud upon the hard floor. - -A terrific shout of laughter greeted the catastrophe. The musicians, -in response to vigorous shouts, struck up the measure with renewed -quickness. They blew and puffed at such a rate now that no foot of man -could have kept up with the tune, at least not after an hour of this -same exertion. - -"Assez! assez! not so fast morbleu!" - -But the players evidently had resented the previous comments anent -their slowness, and now would listen to no admonition in the contrary -direction. Faster and faster they played, the exhausted, sweating -'prentices tripped it with frantic efforts; the girls loudly clamoured -for the music to stop. They were giddy, they were toweringly hot, the -young men's breath almost burned their cheeks. - -"Enough! enough! _par tous les diables!_ These musicians have the devil -in them!" - -The couples fell back one by one panting against the wall, only one -pair remained in the centre now twirling and twisting in a cloud of -dust. The girl's white skirts flew out all round her like a thousand -wings which seemed to lift her off her feet. The man held her tightly, -his strong arms twined round her as if he never would let her go -again, but meant to dance and turn, to whirl her through space even to -eternity. - -His head was bent for he was over-tall and towered above every one else -in the room. He was a head taller than she was, but he looked straight -down at her as he held her, straight into her eyes, those beautiful -blue eyes of hers which he had thought so cold. They were dark now, -almost as dark as his own, and flashed with curious purple lights, -and deep velvety shadows; her lips were parted with the effort of -breathing, they were red and full, and showed glimpses of small pearly -teeth, and the red moist tongue between them. - -The man's heart gave a great bound of joy. This was no ice-maiden -wrapped in a mantle of snow, the tips of whose chaste fingers he had -hitherto hardly dared to touch with his lips. No! this was a living, -breathing woman full of passion, full of the joy of life, a woman -moreover who was ready to love him, to return passion for passion, and -kiss for kiss. - -Ye gods! Michael, but thou'rt a happy man! - -He held her close in his arms, for is not God's most glorious, most -perfect creation upon earth a woman who is pure the while she burns -with passion? And that priceless treasure was his. Fate had given her -to him, Fate and his own damnable action. - -Nay, Michael, thou blackguard, if thine action be damnable, then by all -the Saints in Heaven and by all the devils in Hell, do thou go and be -damned, but hold this woman first. - -And wild, mad thoughts went coursing through his brain, thoughts of -himself and of her: - -"I am a man, and what I do, I do. With mine honour did I buy thee, with -mine own humiliation and shame have I conquered thee. Thou who art no -snow-maiden but living lava melting at my touch, thou whom I adore, -for whom were it to be done again, I would lie and I would cheat, I -would descend to Hell or conquer paradise. I am a man and what I do, I -do! Perish honour, perish life itself and eternal salvation if to gain -honour mean to forsake thee." - -These were the tumultuous coursings of his excited brain the while he -held her thus, swirling and whirling in his arms, swaying as a reed in -the embrace of a blasting wind. - -The cloud of dust enveloped them, as, on the Brocken, the steam from -unseen cauldrons envelops the witches in their revels. Through this -haze Rose Marie saw nothing but his face and in it she read mayhap -something that was passing in his mind, something of that passion which -her mind as yet could not understand, even though her blood and heart -were so ready to respond. - -But strangely enough she was not afraid. The child whose life boundary -did not extend far beyond the walls of the parental home looked out on -a limitless horizon of men's passions and men's sins, but even beyond -that horizon the personality of the man to whom she had given her -innocent love stood out clear and pure: the master to obey, the hero to -worship. That she had roused a great love in him, she could not fail -to see; of that she was proud, for her feminine instinct whispered -that the greatness of his love transcended any sin which he ever might -commit. - - * * * * * - -How it all happened she never afterwards could say; but it was all so -different to what had been prearranged by mother and father, and by -all the friends. Rose Marie had not heard the pawing of horse's hoofs -outside, nor yet the rumble of the coach. Truth to tell she was so lost -in the wild dream of the moment that she had forgotten all about what -was to come: the farewell to maman and papa, the noisy "good-bye" to -friends, the conventional departure accompanied by shouts and cheers -and showers of rose leaves which all richly-dowered brides have to -experience. - -In her case, too, it had all been duly planned, but it happened so -differently! - -She had been dancing with her lord, looking up like a fascinated bird -into his face glowing with ardent love. Then the room began to spin -round and round, she could see nothing very clearly, yet a delicious -languor stole into her every limb, she closed her eyes, and gave -herself over limp and motionless into his embrace. Suddenly she felt -herself lifted off her feet and carried by strong protecting arms -through door and passage, until the cold April wind struck her cheeks -and forced her with the power of his frolicsome will to open her eyes -once more. She saw as in a quick vision a rearing horse, two or three -men in sad-coloured surcoats, one of whom clung to the horse's bridle, -whilst the other held the stirrup, and then as a background of curious -faces the crowd of street gaffers standing gaping round. Behind her the -dense throng of 'prentices and wenches, of friends and serving-maids -pressed forward down the narrow passage, shouting, clamouring cheering -to the echoes; in the forefront of these papa and maman half laughing, -half crying, waving hands and mopping tears. - -But it was only a vision swift and sudden, for everything happened -so quickly--and she was still so dizzy with the frantic whirl of the -dance that she hardly remembered being lifted up on to the saddle and -landed safely in the strong arms of her lord. The words of command -had been so quickly spoken, my lord had jumped with such rapidity into -the saddle, no wonder that she did not know exactly how she came to be -where she was, clinging to him with all her might, and making herself -very, very small lest she hindered him in the guiding of his horse. - -She knew exactly how to hold on, and how to sit, for she had oft sat -thus ere now, on her father's saddle when he took her with him for a -ride--he bent on some business errand, she enjoying the movement, and -the fresh air as soon as the grime and smoke of Paris had been left -behind. - -But no other ride had ever been quite like this one, for soon the horse -settled down to an easy, swinging canter in the soft mud of the road, -and there was an infinite sense of security in the clasp of the sinewy -arm which held her so deliciously close. - -Just one slight shifting of her lissome body to settle herself more -comfortably, one little movement which seemed to bring her yet a little -nearer to him. - -"Is it well with you, my snowdrop?" he asked, bending his head in a -vain endeavour to catch sight of her face. - -He only could see the top of a small, fair head, from which the hood -had slipped off, disclosing the wealth of quaint curls and puffs, the -formal bridal coiffure since then somewhat disarranged. - -The wealth of curls shook in obvious assent, and presently a shy voice -murmured: - -"Why do you call me snowdrop?" - -"Because I was an ignorant fool," he replied, "when I first beheld you, -a blind and senseless lout who did not distinguish the lovely crimson -rose that hid so shyly within a borrowed mantle of ice." - -"They call me Rose Marie," she whispered. - -"Rosemary to me," he said fervently, "which is for remembrance." - -"Tu m'aimes?" she asked, but so softly that whilst she wondered if he -would hear she almost hoped that the April breeze would fail to carry -her words to his ear. - -Of course he did not reply. There is no answer to that exquisite -question when it is asked by the loved one's lips, but his right arm -tightened round her, until she felt almost crushed in the passionate -embrace. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - Love that keeps all the choir of lives in chime - Love that is blood within the veins of time. - --SWINBURNE. - - -You all know that funny little inn at St. Denis, on what was then the -main road between Paris and Havre; it stands sheltered against north -and east winds by a towering bouquet of mighty oaks, which were there, -believe me--though mayhap not quite so gnarled and so battered by -storms of wind and thunder as they are now--in the April of that year -1678. - -The upper story gabled and raftered hung then as now quite askew above -its lower companion, and the door even in those days was in perpetual -warfare with its own arched lintel, and refused to meet it in a spirit -of friendly propinquity. The Seine winds its turgid curves in the rear -of the building with nothing between it and the outer walls only the -tow path always ankle deep in mud. - -The view out and across the winding river is only interesting to the -lover of colour and of space, for there are no romantic hills, no -rugged crags or fir-crowned plateaus to delight the eye. Only a few -melancholy acacias sigh and crackle in the wind and tall poplars rear -their majestic heads up to the vast expanse of sky. - -Now elegant villas and well-trimmed gardens fill the space over which -two hundred and forty years ago the eye wandered seeking in vain for -signs of human habitation. Rank grass covered the earth, and close to -the water's edge clumps of reeds gave shelter to water rats and birds. - -Through the small dormer window just beneath the gable, Michael Kestyon -looked out upon the melancholy landscape and found it exquisitely fair. - -The wind howled down the wide chimney and sighed drearily through the -reeds, whereon the spring had not yet thrown her delicate tints of -green; but Michael thought the sound divine, for it mingled in his ear -with the tones of a fresh, young voice which had prattled gaily on -throughout supper-time, of past and of future--not of the present, for -that was sacred, too sacred even for her words. - -She was a little tired at first, when he lifted her off the saddle, -and the amiable hostess of the ramshackle inn took charge of her and -saw to her comforts. But after a little rest in her room, she came and -joined him in the stuffy parlour, the window of which gave on that far -horizon, beyond which lay the sea, England and home. - -She seemed a little scared when she found herself quite alone with him, -without maman or papa to interrupt the tête-à-tête. She was so young, -and oh! how tender and fragile she appeared to him, as she came forward -a little timidly, with great, blue eyes opened wide, wherein her pure -love fought with her timidity. - -Her whole appearance, her expression of face as she yielded her hand to -him, and allowed him to draw her closer ever closer to his heart, made -appeal to all that was best, most humbly reverent within him. - -Rose Marie was home to him, she was joy and she was peace, and he, -the homeless, the joyless, the insubordinate wastrel, felt a wave of -infinite tenderness, a tenderness which purified his love, and laid -ardent passion to rest. - -He led her to the window, and throwing it wide open, he knelt down -beside her there in the embrasure. She sat on the narrow window seat, -looking out on that vast expanse of sky and land whereon the shadows -of evening had thrown a veil of exquisite sadness and peace. The bare -branches of the acacias as yet only tipped with tiny flecks of green -moaned softly beneath the kiss of the breezes. Banks of clouds lashed -into activity by the wind hurried swiftly past, out towards the unseen -ocean, now obscuring the moon, now revealing her magic beauty, more -transcendent and glorious after those brief spells of mystery conquered -and of darkness subdued. Michael said very little. There was so little -that he could say, which was not now a lie. He could not speak to her -of his home, for home to him had been a miserable garret under the -grimy roof of a house of disrepute, shared with others as miserable, as -homeless as himself. He could not speak to her of friends, for of these -he had none, only the depraved companions of a dissolute past, nor -could he speak of kindred, unless he told her that it was because his -mother was dying of hunger in a wretched hovel that he had spoken the -mighty lie and taken payment for speaking it. - -I would not have you think that even now Michael felt any remorse for -what he had done. He was not a man to act first and blush for his -actions afterwards. He knew his action to be vile, but then he had -known that ere he committed it, and knowing it had deliberately taken -his course. Were it to be done all over again, he would do it; since -she never could be his save by the great lie and the monstrous trick, -then the lie must be spoken and the trick accomplished. For she meant -love and purification; she meant the re-awakening of all that was holy -in him and which the Creator infuses in every man be he cast into this -world in a gutter or upon a throne. - -And he would make her happy, for he had gained her love, and a woman -such as she hath but one love to give. She would never have loved -Stowmaries, and not loving, she would have been unhappy. He had taken -upon himself the outer shell of another man, and that was all; just -another man's name, title and past history, nothing more. But it was -his personality which had conquered her, his love which had roused -hers. She loved--not an Earl of Stowmaries, the plighted husband of her -babyhood. No! she loved him, Michael, the blackguard, the liar, the -cheat an you will call him so; but she loved him, the man for all that. - -Therefore he felt no remorse, when he knelt beside her and during that -exquisite hour of evening, when shadows flew across the moon, and the -acacias whispered fairy tales of love and of brave deeds, he listened -to her innocent prattle with a clear mind and a determined conscience, -and the while she spoke to him of her simple past life, of her books -and of her music, his ambition went galloping on into the land of -romance. - -The title of Earl of Stowmaries which he had assumed, he could easily -win now; the riches, the position, everything that could satisfy a -woman's innocent vanity he would shower upon his snowdrop. She would -have all that her parents wished for her, all and more, for she would -have a husband who worshipped her, whose boundless love was built on -the secure foundation of a great and lasting gratitude. - -It was in this same boundless gratitude that he kissed her hands now; -those little hands which had been the exquisite channels through which -had flown to him the pure waters of love and of happiness. - -How quaint she looked, with her fair hair almost wild round her little -head. The dance first, then the ride through wind and space had -loosened most of the puffs and curls from their prearranged places. -That tired look round the eyes, the ring of dark tone which set off the -pearly whiteness of her skin, the beads of moisture on her forehead, -these gave her a strangely-pathetic air of frailty, which most -specially appealed to Michael's rugged strength. - -Her white gown was torn here and there--Michael remembered catching -his foot in it in the mazes of the dance--it was crumpled, too, and -hung limply round her young figure, showing every delicate curve of the -childlike form, every rounded outline of budding womanhood. - -Think you it was an easy task for Michael to keep his tempestuous -passion in check, he who throughout his life had known no control save -that of cruel necessity? Think you he did not long to take her in his -arms, to cover those sweet lips with kisses, to frighten her with -the overwhelming strength of his love and then to see fright slowly -changing to trust and the scared look give way beneath the hot wave of -passion. - -But with all that mad desire coursing through brain and blood, Michael -knelt there at her feet, holding her hands, and listening to the flow -of talk which like a cooling stream rippled in his ear. She asked him -about England and about his home, and wanted to know if in springtime -the white acacias were in bloom in Sussex, and if rosemary--her -namesake--grew wild in the meadows. - -In the woods round Fontainebleau the ground was carpeted with anemones; -were there such sweet white carpets in the English woods? Then she -looked about her in the ugly, uninteresting little room and saw a -broken-down harpsichord standing in a corner. - -She jumped up gay as a bird and ran to open it. There were several -broken keys, and those that still were whole gave forth quaint, -plaintive little sounds but she sang: - - "Si tu m'aimais, tu serais roi de la terre!" - -and he remained beside the window, with the cold breeze fanning his -cheek, his head resting in his hand, and his eye piercing the gloomy -corner of the room from whence came the heavenly song. - -Indeed! was he not king of all the world? - -Thus passed a delicious hour. Anon the coach--which originally should -have brought the bridal pair hither, had not milor carried off the -bride in such high-handed fashion--came lumbering up to the door. - -Prudent maman had despatched it off in the wake of the impetuous rider. -It contained a bundle of clothes and change of linen for Rose Marie and -had my lord's effects, too, in the boot. - -Rose Marie gave a little cry of delight when she realised maman's -forethought, and then one of dismay for she suddenly became conscious -of her disordered dress. - -The worthy hostess--fat, greasy and motherly, had entered, candle in -hand, to announce the arrival of the coach. - -"Me and my man expected Monsieur and Madame to arrive in it," she -explained volubly. "Monsieur's servant came yesterday to bespeak -the rooms and to arrange for the stabling. I was so surprised when -Monsieur arrived on horseback, so much earlier, too, than we had -anticipated--else I had had supper ready ere this, for Monsieur and -Madame must surely be hungry." - -"But supper must be ready by now, good Madame Blond," said Rose Marie -blushing to hear herself called "Madame," "and I pray you have my -effects taken to my room." - -"They are there already, so please you, my pigeon," said the amiable -old soul, "and there is some water for washing your pretty face." - -"And will supper be ready soon?" she reiterated insistently for she was -young and healthy, and had eaten very little for sheer excitement all -day. - -"While you smooth out your golden curls, _ma mignonne_, I'll dish -up the soup. Nay! but Monsieur is in luck's way!" she said, shaking -her large round head. "Madame is the comeliest bride we have seen -at St. Denis for a long time past. And they all come this way, you -know--away from the prying eyes of kindly friends. Me and my man are so -discreet!--especially if the bride be so pretty and the bridegroom so -good to look at." - -She would have babbled on a long time, despite Monsieur's look of -fretful impatience, but fortunately just then the hissing sound of an -overflowing soup-pot came ominously through the open door. - -"Holy Joseph, patron of good housewives, defend us!" exclaimed Mme. -Blond, making a dash for the door, "the croûte-au-pot is boiling over." - -Rose Marie made to follow her. - -"Need you go, my snowdrop?" he asked, loth to let her go. - -"Just to change my crumpled gown, and smooth my hair," she replied -demurely. - -"You are so beautiful like this, I would not wish to see one single -curl altered upon your head, or one fold changed upon your gown." - -She was standing against the table, the fingers of one hand resting -lightly upon the blackened oak, her head bent slightly forward the -while her blue eyes half sought, half shrank from his gaze. - -He went up to her, and drew her to him. The desire was irresistible and -she almost called for that first kiss by her beauty, her innocence, her -perfect girlishness which was so ready to give all bliss and to taste -all happiness. - -He kissed her fair hair, her eyes, her delicate cheeks now suffused -with blushes. Then with a look he asked for her lips and she understood -and yielded them to him with a glad little sigh of infinite trust. - -The hand of time marked these heavenly minutes; surely the angels -looked down from their paradise in envy at this earthly heaven. Outside -the wind sighed amid the branches of the acacias, wafting into the room -something of the pungent odour of this spring air, of the opening buds -of poplars and of beeches and the languorous odour of newly-awakened -life. - -Gently she tried to disengage herself from his arms. - -"I must go now," she whispered. - -"Not yet." - -"For a moment and I'll come back." - -"Not yet." - -"Let go, dear lord, for I would go." - -"Not till I've had another kiss." - -Happiness and the springtime of the earth, joy and life and love -dancing hand in hand with youth! O Time, why dost not stop at moments -such as this? - -The sighing of the reeds on the river bank came as the sound of a -fairy lullaby, the scent of the spring reached the girl's nostrils -like an intoxicant vapour, which clouded her brain. The room was quite -dark, and she could scarcely see his face, yet she felt that his eyes -perpetually asked a question, to which she could only respond by -closing her own: - -"Tu m'aimes?" he whispered, and the heavy lids falling over ardent eyes -made mute response to him. - -A confused sound of horses' hoofs outside, of shouts and calls -from within roused them both from their dream. She succeeded now in -disengaging herself from his arms, and still whispering: - -"I'll come back!" she retreated toward the door. - -Just as she reached it, the moon so long obscured burst forth in full -glory from behind a bank of clouds, her rays came straight into the -narrow room and lighted on the dainty figure of the girl standing with -crumpled white dress and hair disarranged, cheeks rosy red and eyes -full of promise and love against the dark background of the heavy oaken -door. - -Michael looked upon her with longing, hungry eyes, drinking in every -line of that delicately-moulded form, the graceful neck, the slender -hands, the firm girlish shoulders on which the prim kerchief had become -slightly disarranged. Then as she retreated further into the next room, -she vanished from his sight; the door fell to behind her with a heavy, -ominous sound, shutting out the radiant vision of Michael's cherished -dream, leaving him on the other side of the heavenly portals, alone and -desolate. - -Thus he saw her in full light, and lost her in the shadows. Something -of the premonition of what was to come already held his heart as in -a cold and cruel vice. When the door closed upon his dream, upon his -Rose Marie, he knew by an unerring and torturing instinct that he would -never, never see her quite as she had been just now. The Rose Marie who -had left him was for remembrance. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - Though doom keep always heaven and hell - Irreconcilable, infinitely apart; - Keep not in twain for ever heart and heart - That once, albeit by not thy law, were one. - --SWINBURNE. - - -The next moment the door which gave on the landing was thrown open, and -Michael stood face to face with M. Legros. - -Thus premonition had come true. Thus would nothing remain of the past -delicious hour only remembrance and bitter, bitter longing for what -could never be. - -The light of the one candle fell full upon the unromantic figure of -the good tailor, on his pallid face whereon beads of perspiration told -their mute tale of anxiety and of fulsome wrath. His eyes, dilated and -tawny in colour were fastened full upon the reprobate, demanding above -all things to know if the outraged father had perchance arrived too -late. - -The man's gay wedding clothes were torn and awry; mud covered his shoes -and stockings for he had not even stopped to be booted and spurred. The -old English serving-man who had vainly tried earlier in the day to gain -speech with the master tailor, had reached the august presence at last, -and had handed to M. Legros the letter which was to be given to him and -to no one else. It was written in a bold, clear hand and in scholarly -French for the better understanding of Monsieur the tailor to the king. -Mistress Peyton having penned a few ill-scrawled, ill-spelt words had -bethought herself of a young Huguenot clerk of French parentage who -earned his living in London by the work of his pen; and being desirous -above all that M. Legros should fully comprehend her letter, she caused -it to be translated and writ clearly by that same young clerk, ere she -finally entrusted it to Daniel Pye for delivery. - -Thus it was that that which was written in the letter did not fail to -reach the understanding of good Papa Legros. It was a full and detailed -account of the treachery which had been perpetrated on the tailor's -daughter by one Michael Kestyon, who was naught but a dissolute -profligate, a liar and a cheat, since his own cousin was Earl of -Stowmaries, and no one else had any right to such title but he. - -Papa Legros did not trouble to ask many questions, and since the -English lout knew not a word of French, the good tailor took no further -heed of him. He spoke to no one, not even to his wife. The letter said -something which must be verified at once--at once--before it was too -late. He gave orders that no one--least of all Mme. Legros--was to be -disturbed, the merrimaking was to go on, the dancing, the eating and -drinking, the speech making and all. - -Then he slipped out by the back door and reached the small outbuilding -where he kept a horse, which served him on occasions when he had to go -to Versailles to try on a pair of breeches for His Majesty the King. -It took good M. Legros no time to saddle his horse, and a ride of over -three hours had no terrors for him beside the awful fear which gripped -his paternal heart. - -Before he left his home he detached from a nail on the wall of the shed -an enormous stick with heavy leather thong, with which he at times -administered castigation to refractory or evil-minded 'prentices. - -Then he mounted his horse and rode away in the fast-gathering twilight. - -He knew his way to St. Denis and to the inn whither he wished to go. He -put his horse to a gentle canter and it was just past nine o'clock when -he saw the light in the old tower of the Church of St. Denis. - -He was tired and stiff from riding, but he had sufficient control of -himself to speak quietly to the host of the little inn, and to ask -cheerfully of good Mme. Blond which room his daughter was occupying. - -The amiable old soul pointed the way up the stairs, then returned to -her stock-pot with the cheerful comment that she would serve the soup -in a few moments. - -Then Papa Legros went upstairs and pushing open the door stood face -to face with Michael. With one hand he gripped the heavy stick with -the stout leather thong on it, with the other he fumbled in the pocket -of his surcoat until he found the letter again--the letter which was -penned in such scholarly French by the Huguenot clerk, and which -revealed such damnable treachery. - -But Papa Legros wanted above all to be fair. During the long, -monotonous ride in the silence and darkness of this spring evening he -had had time to collect his thoughts somewhat, to weigh the value of -the anonymous writing, to think of milor as he had known him these -past three weeks: gallant and plucky to a fault, proud, generous and -brave; and now that he stood before the man, saw the noble bearing of -the head, the fine dark eyes, the mouth that was so ready to smile or -to speak gentle words, his terror fled from him, and though his voice -still shook a little from the intensity of his emotion, he contrived to -say quite quietly, as he held the crumpled letter out toward Michael: - -"My lord--you will forgive me--I know you will understand--but it is -the child's happiness--and--and--my lord, will you read this letter and -tell me if its contents are true?" - -Michael took the paper from him quite mechanically, for of course he -had guessed its contents, but mayhap he had a vague desire to know who -it was that had so wantonly destroyed his happiness. He went to the -table and drew the flickering candle a little nearer, then bent his -tall figure to read that cruel letter. - -The handwriting told him nothing, but the tale was plainly told. The -avenging angel of God was already standing with flaming sword at the -gate of his paradise, forbidding him ever to enter. He looked up from -the letter to that black door behind which she was; it almost seemed as -if his aching eyes could pierce the solid oak. She was there behind the -door and he could never, never again go to her, he could never, never -again hold her in his arms. - -Heaven had vanished and at his feet now yawned merciless, illimitable -Hell. - -"My lord," and the trembling voice of the outraged father broke in upon -his thoughts, "my lord, I still await your answer--I'll not believe -that nameless scrawl--I ask your word--only your solemn word, my lord, -and all my fears will vanish. Swear to me, my lord, on the innocent -head of my darling child that this letter holds nothing but calumnies -and I'll believe you, my lord--if you'll swear it on her golden head." - -Do you know that hush that to the imagination seems to fall upon the -whole world just when a human heart is about to break? Michael felt -that hush all around him now; the April wind ceased its moaning in the -boughs of the young acacia trees, the reeds by the river bank sighed -no longer in the breeze, awakened nature just for one moment fell -back into winter-like sleep, and a shadow--blacker and more dense than -any that can fall from an angry heaven over the earth--descended on -Michael's soul. - -To swear--as he had sworn this morning at the foot of the altar? To -swear by that most sacred thing upon God's earth, her sweet head?--no! - -"Will you swear, my lord, that this letter is but vile calumny?" - -And Michael gave answer loudly and firmly: - -"It is the truth!" - -Less like a man than like an infuriated beast, the meek man--now an -outraged father--literally sprang forward with upraised arm wielding -the heavy dog-whip, ready to strike the miscreant in the face. - -The proud, defiant head, noble even now in its humiliation, was bent -without a murmur. Michael made no movement to avert the blow. - -"Will you not kill me instead?" was all the protest which he made. - -Legros' upraised hand fell nerveless by his side. He threw the stick -away from him. He, poor soul, had never learned to control emotion, -he had gone through no hard school wherein tears are jeered at, and -sorrows unshared. He had never learned to be ashamed either of joy or -of grief, and now, face to face with this man who had so deeply wronged -him, and whom, despite his wrath, he was powerless to strike, he sank -into a chair, and buried his face in his hands whilst a pitiful moan -escaped his lips. - -"The child--the poor child--how shall I ever tell her? The shame of it -all--the cruelty--the shame--how shall I tell her?" - -And Time's callous hand marked these minutes of terrible soul-agony, -just as awhile ago it had marked the fleeting moments of -celestial joy. Michael was silent, the while he wondered almost -senselessly--stupidly--if Hell could hold more awful agony than he was -enduring now. - -Yet through it all his turbulent soul rebelled at the situation, -the sentimental parleyings, the pitiful grief of the father and the -enforced humility of his own attitude. He knew that he had lost his -Rose Marie, that the parents would never give her to him now; the solid -and indestructible wall of bourgeois integrity stood between him and -those mad, glad dreams of triumph and of happiness. - -It was characteristic of the man that he never for a moment attempted -to guess or to find out the channel through which his own misery had -come to him. He certainly never suspected his cousin of treachery. -Fate had dealt the blow cruelly and remorselessly and sent him back -to a worse hell than he had ever known; a hell which Satan reserves -for those he hates the most--the way to it leads past the entrance to -heaven. - -"Good M. Legros," said Michael at last, striving to curb his impatience -and to speak with gentleness, "will you try and listen to me? Nay, -you need not fear, 'tis not my purpose to plead justification, nor -yet leniency--I wish that you could bring yourself to believe that -though I wooed and won your daughter by what you think is naught but -an abominable trick, I had one great thought above all others and that -was that I would make her happy. This I do swear by the living God, and -by what I hold dearer still, by the love which I bear to Rose Marie. -And as there is a heaven above me, I would have made her happy, for I -had gained her heart, and anon when the bonds of mine own boundless -love had rivetted her still more closely to me, I should have taught -her to forgive my venial sin of having entered heaven by a tortuous -way. The name which I bear is mine own, the title which I have assumed -is mine by right, I would have conquered it for myself and for her. -You say that it is not to be--yet I swear to you that she will not be -happy if you take her from me. This I know; if I did not I would go to -her myself and tell her that I have lied to her. If despite what you -know you will still confide her to me, you will never regret it to your -dying day, for apart from the life of love and happiness which will be -hers, I will lavish upon her all the treasures of satisfied ambition, -far surpassing anything which you--her father--have ever wished for -her." - -M. Legros despite his grief which had completely overmastered him for -awhile, raised his head in absolute astonishment. Surely these English -were the most astounding people in all the world! Here was this man -who of a truth had committed the most flagrant, most impudent act -of trickery, that had ever been perpetrated within memory of living -man--he had done this thing and been ignominiously found out. By all -the laws of decent and seemly behaviour he should now be standing -humble and ashamed before the man whom he had tried to injure. And yet -what happened? Here he stood, in perfect calm and undisguised pride, -not a muscle of his face twitched with emotion, and his neck was as -stiff as if he were exulting in some noble deed. - -Had these English no sense of what was fitting? had they no heart? no -feelings? no blood within their veins? The man--so help us the living -God!--was actually suggesting that his trickery be condoned, that an -innocent child be entrusted to him, who stood convicted of falsehood -and of treachery! Good M. Legros' Gallic blood boiled within him, -overwhelming grief gave place to uncontrollable wrath. He rose to his -feet, and pulled up his small stature to its uttermost height. - -"You will make her happy!" he thundered, throwing an infinity of -withering scorn into every word. "You--who like a prying jackal came to -steal the fledgling from its nest? You who took money with one hand, -the while you snatched a girl's honour with the other? With lying lips -and soft, false words you stole our child's heart--even until father -and mother were forgotten for the sake of the liar and the cheat who--" - -Michael held up a quick warning hand, and instinctively the insults -died on the other man's lips. Rose Marie--white as the clinging, -crumpled gown which she had hastily refastened when anon she heard her -father's voice raised in angered scorn--Rose Marie silent and still, -and with great eyes fixed on Michael Kestyon, was standing in the -doorway. - -At sight of her good M. Legros' grief swept over him with renewed -force. Once more he sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands -whilst a moan of painful soul-agony escaped his lips. - -"The child!--the child! My God how to tell her!" - -But Rose Marie's voice came quite clear and distinct, there was no -catch in her throat, nor tremor in the gentle tones as she said quietly: - -"Nay! my dear father, an there is aught to tell--milor will best know -how to say it to me." - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - As the dawn loves the sunlight, I love thee. - --SWINBURNE. - - -Papa Legros at first had been too dazed to protest. Truly his loving -heart had been for hours on the rack at thought of the awful task which -lay before him--the opening of his child's eyes to the monstrous trick -played upon her by the man to whom her innocent heart had turned in -perfect love and in perfect trust. He, the father, who worshipped this -dainty, delicately-nurtured daughter, who had spent the past twenty -years of an arduous life in trying to smooth away every unevenness -from the child's pathway of life, now suddenly saw himself like unto -the scarlet-clad executioner, rope and branding irons in hand, forced -to bind his beloved one on the rack, and himself to apply the searing -torture of sorrow and of shame to her soul. - -The child's calm words as she stood confronting the miscreant had -almost brought relief. Why indeed should not the villain accomplish -his own unmasking? Papa Legros hating the man who had done him and his -child an infinite wrong, had a sufficiency of perception in him to -realise, with that subtle cruelty of which the meek are alone capable, -that he could not inflict more exquisite torture on his enemy than by -forcing him to stand self-convicted before the child. - -Just for the moment--and truly he may be forgiven for it--all that was -good and kind in the gentle nature of the tailor had been ousted by his -wrath as a father and as a man. He had found himself unable to strike -the liar just now; but he longed for the power to torture his very -soul, to bring him to the dust in sorrow and humiliation, to see the -proud head down in the mud of abject shame. Great God! did you not know -that Papa Legros had learned to love this man like he would his own -son, and that the grief which he felt was in part for Rose Marie and in -part for the miscreant who had twined himself around his heartstrings, -and whom he cherished the while he longed to chastise him with infinite -cruelty? - -"Father dear," said Rose Marie after a slight pause, "will you not -allow me to speak with milor alone?" - -"I would not trust thee one second in his keeping, child, now I know -him for what he is." - -"You need have no fear, dear," she rejoined calmly, "and 'twere best -methinks for us all if milor were to tell me himself all that I ought -to know." - -The candle flickered low, and Michael stood back amidst the shadow; -thus the good tailor failed to see if his own shaft had gone home--if -it had pierced that armour of stolid English indifference which the -descendant of Gallic forebears found so difficult to comprehend. - -Certain it is that Michael raised no protest, and that not even a sigh -escaped him as this final insult was hurled at him with the utmost -refinement of vengeful cruelty. - -Rose Marie went up to her father and placed her small cool hands on -his. Then with gentle persuasion she drew him up. He yielded to her, -for vaguely at the bottom of his heart, he knew that he could trust the -man whom he loved and hated, yet even now could not wholly despise. -For one moment as father and daughter stood side by side, he took -her in his arms and kissed her forehead. She rested against him cold -and placid, and when he released her from his embrace she took his -rough toil-worn hand and kissed it tenderly. Then with supreme yet -irresistible gentleness she led him out of the room. - -As he passed close to Michael he held out the fateful letter to him. - -"You will show her that," he almost commanded. - -"An you wish it," replied the other, as he took the letter from him. - -A curious instinct prompted Michael to blow out the flickering light, -just as Rose Marie, having closed the door behind her father, turned -back into the room. He went up to her, but she retreated a step or two -at his approach, and of her own accord went to the window seat, there -where a brief hour ago she had sat with him in perfect communion and -perfect happiness. - -The casement was still open, and the moon which had been so fitful -throughout the evening poured her cold radiance straight on the dainty -silhouette of the girl, just as she had done awhile ago, ere the gates -of paradise were closed and the angels had ceased to sing their glad -hosannas! Outside, the sighing of the reeds and the moaning of the wind -in the young acacias made a sound as of innumerable feet of restless -spirits stirring the dead leaves of an unforgettable past. - -"That letter, milor," said Rose Marie, "will you give it me--since my -father hath so commanded." - -Without a word he handed the paper to her, and when he saw that she -could not read it--for the room was dark and the rays of the moon not -sufficiently bright--he took out his tinder-box and relighted the -guttering candle. Then as the wind blew the feeble flame hither and -thither he shielded it with his hand, and held the candle so that she -might read and yet not move from that window seat. - -She read the letter through to the end, and while she read he could see -the top of her head bent down to the paper, and the wealth of those -fair curls which he would never again be allowed to kiss. - -When she had finished reading, she looked up and he threw the candle -far away out through the window. - -"Then you had lied to me," was all that she said; and she said it so -calmly, so quietly, like the true snow maiden which she had once more -become, now that he who alone had the power to turn the snow to living -fire, was proved to be treacherous and false. Then she folded up the -letter and slipped it under her kerchief. - -Stately and tall as the water lilies on the pond which he had once -described to her--she drew up her slender figure and held her little -head erect. She did not look in his direction but rose slowly and -turned to go out of the room. - -"Rose Marie," he called out to her in an involuntary moan of agony. - -Instinctively his hand went out to her as she passed, and clutched the -crumpled wedding dress which seemed to wrap her in, now like a shroud. -She tried to disengage her gown, but as he held it tight she desisted, -standing there cold and impassive, a woman turned to ice. - -"Rose Marie!" he whispered, "my own little snowdrop, will you be -so unyielding now? Awhile ago do you remember, you yielded to the -sweetness of a first kiss?" - -"And yet you lied to me," she said slowly, tonelessly, the while her -eyes sought the distant horizon far away, where astride on the cold -grey mists unreached by the tender light of the moon, her dreams of -happiness were fleeting quickly away. - -He drew himself up and caught her to him with a masterful gesture -of possession. He felt her body rigid and impassive at his touch, -stiffening in a backward motion away from him behind that massive stone -wall of awful finality which had so mercilessly risen between her and -him. He felt that he was losing her, that she was slipping away from -him--slipping--up, up to some cold and unresponsive heaven, peopled -with stern angels, whose great white wings would soon enclose her and -hide her from him forever. He felt that he was losing her, not with -that same bitter-sweet sense of sadness as he did just now when the -savour of her exquisite lips still clung to his own, and she retreated -out of his sight like a perfect vision of beauty. - -Now an almost savage longing was in him not to let her go, to keep her -to him at any cost, any sacrifice, even that of his own self-control. -There was enough power in his own ardent love for her so to bind her to -him that she could never, never leave him. - -"My beautiful crimson rose," he murmured, drawing her closer, closer, -even while he felt that with her whole gentle strength she opposed an -icy calm to the warm glow of his passion, "turn your dear eyes to me, -just for one brief moment. Oh! think, think of the past few days when -first our hearts, our souls, our entire beings met in perfect accord. -Look at me, my dear, sweet soul, am I not the man to whom you have -listened so oft, sitting at your harpsichord, the while he whispered -to you the first words of love? Look, look, my dear, mine eyes, are -they not the same?--my lips have they not met yours in one sublime, -unforgettable kiss? You were a child, ere your soul met mine--now you -are a woman, 'tis I who applied the magic fire to your heart, 'tis I -who kindled the flame of your pure love; you are no longer a child now, -Rose Marie, you are an exquisitely beautiful woman, and I love you with -every fibre of my body, with every aspiration of my soul--" - -"And yet you lied to me." - -"And would lie again, would sin again a thousand times, since my sin -gave you to me. Sweetheart, if I have sinned, yet have I expiated -already--one cold look from your dear eyes hath caused me more acute -agony than the damned can ever suffer in Hell. My love--my love--do -you understand what you mean to me? Have you realised the exquisite -gift--your perfect womanhood--which you would snatch from me? I was a -wastrel, a thief, a miserable degraded wretch--awhile ago when I held -you in my arms I was king of all the world. By my sin I won you! Great -God, then is not my sin the greatest, grandest and most glorious deed -ever accomplished by man--in order to gain a heaven?" - -But with all his ardour, all his savage strength of will and of -purpose, Michael was but bruising his heart against a solid stone -wall. Perhaps if Rose Marie had been a little older, a little more -sophisticated, a little more wearied in the ways of men, she might have -yielded to the love of the man, and closed her eyes to the deeds of the -sinner. Whatever else he had done, she would easily have forgiven--nay! -she would never have judged--but it was the betrayal of her trust which -turned her heart to stone. Of course she had not had time as yet to -think. In the letter which he had given her she had read the awful -account of that transaction wherein she appeared as a mere chattel -tossed from one hand to another, paid for with money like a bale of -goods. - -Oh! the shame of it! And he, to whom she had given her entire heart and -soul, to whom she was ready to yield herself absolutely and completely -had bought her at a price. Love? She no longer believed in it. If he -had lied to her, then neither love nor purity nor manhood existed on -God's earth--and this was no vale of tears but one of infinite shame. - -She looked down on him with just such a cold look in her eyes as he had -compared to the infliction of the tortures of the damned. She knew that -physically she would be too weak to resist him, and she would scorn to -call out to her father. This she tried to convey to him by that cold -look and by the perfect placidity of her demeanour. - -For one moment he was conscious of the wild desire to snatch his -happiness from out the burning brand even now, and to take her in his -arms and ride away with her into the land of forgetfulness. The wind -in the trees seemed to call out to him not to let her go, and the -reeds murmured as they bent their heavy heads that she would forgive -everything after another kiss. - -"Rose Marie!" - -Something of what was passing in his mind must have reached her inner -consciousness. She was quite woman enough to know that here was no -ephemeral passion, no flame of desire extinguished as soon as born. -He loved her and she loved him, that was as true, as incontestable as -that--in her understanding--the treacherous act which he had committed -now stood irremediably between them, whilst to his wild and rugged -sense of the overwhelming grandeur of love, nothing could or should -ever part him from her. - -In her eyes the betrayal was greater than the love which--in his--had -by its very existence atoned for everything. But throughout her deeply -resentful feeling of wrong done to her and hers there was mayhap an -unconscious sense of weakness, a desire to bring forth a greater array -of will power and set it up against the insinuating persuasion of his -voice, the insidious magic of his touch. Certain it is that she felt -suddenly compelled to break the rigid silence which throughout his -impassioned pleading she had so deliberately imposed upon herself. - -Held in his nervy grip, she could not altogether withdraw from him, but -her eyes, cold and calm sought his in the gloom. - -"My lord," she said quietly and firmly, "since I know you by no other -name, therefore still my lord to me, I would have you recall the day -when sitting in my father's house, you whiled away an idle afternoon -by telling a foolish maid the pretty allegory of water lilies growing -on the weedy pond at Cluny, and of the slime which oozes from unclean -things and pollutes the white petals of the flowers. 'Twas a pretty -tale and no doubt it afforded you much amusement to see the look of -puzzledom in the eyes of an ignorant tailor's wench. Well, my lord! -the wench is no longer ignorant now--she understands the rude imagery, -her eyes have seen such pollution, such miserable corruption as will -forever leave them tainted with the villainy which they have seen. -Whoever you are, sir, I know not--what other deeds of evil and disgrace -you may have committed I care not--I only pray God that we may never -meet again. You no doubt will find pleasures elsewhere, some other -flower to pollute with your touch, some other heart to break. That you -brought shame upon me, mayhap God will one day forgive you, I could -perchance have forgiven you that had your sin rested there, but you -tried to bring dishonour on my father's house. You did succeed in -bringing sorrow and shame into it. My father and mother, who loved you -almost as a son, will never again hold their heads high among their -kind; a dishonoured daughter--for I am that now, for my true husband -will cast me off as a woman unfit to be his mate--a dishonoured -daughter is a lasting curse upon a house. That is your work, stranger, -whoever you are; and this deed like unto the treachery which by a kiss -brought the beloved Master to death upon the Cross, cries out to heaven -for punishment; it is writ on the very front page in the book of the -recording angel, and all the tears which you may shed, all the blood -and all the atonement could not now wipe that front page clean. All -this I do know, and yet one thing more: and that is that you do err -when you speak of my love for you. To you who have lied, who with soft -words and false pretences did enter my father's house and stole that -which is most precious to us humble folk, our honour and the integrity -of our name, to such as that, I gave no love. 'Tis true that I did love -a man once--for one brief hour he lived in my heart but nowhere else. -He was true and loyal, too proud to lie, too noble to steal. He has -vanished like the mist, leaving no trace of his passage, for my heart -wherein he dwelt is broken, and even his memory hath faded from my -ken--" - -Her voice died away like a long-drawn-out sigh, mingling with the -murmur of the reeds and the moaning as of lost souls gliding through -the branches of the acacias in their restless wandering through -infinite space. - -The next moment she was gone, leaving in Michael's trembling hands a -scrap of torn lace, a tiny shred of her gown. - -All that was left of her--and the savour of a bitter memory--rosemary -for remembrance! - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour - That ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. - --A WINTER'S TALE V. 2. - - -It was about an hour later that a hired coach brought three English -gentlemen to the small inn at St. Denis. - -M. Blond was much perturbed. He was not accustomed to foreigners at any -time and he held the English theoretically in abhorrence, and now here -were four of these milors actually under his roof at one and the same -time. - -The three who had last arrived in the coach from Paris carried matters -off in a very high-handed fashion and seemed ready to throw money about -in a manner which was highly satisfactory to the bedraggled and seedy -married couple who--besides the landlord and his spouse--formed the sum -total of the personnel at the Sign of "Three Archangels" in St. Denis. - -Sir John Ayloffe had assumed the leadership of the small party. He gave -his own name to the landlord, and added that he and his two friends had -come to pay their respects to my lord of Stowmaries, but lately arrived -with his young bride. - -Now can you wonder at good M. Blond's perturbation? The incidents which -had crowded in at the Sign of the "Three Archangels" in the past half -hour were enough to furnish food for gossip for many a long evening -to come. In point of fact M. and Mme. Blond had just started talking -the whole sequence of events over from the beginning when the coach -arrived with the three English milors, nor had the worthy couple had -any chance of comparing impressions on these same mysterious events. - -Firstly there had been the extraordinary arrival of the bride and -bridegroom, who of a truth had been expected, since relays for the -next day's journey had been sent to the "Three Archangels" the day -before, but they certainly had not been expected under such amazing -circumstances, the English milor's horse covered with lather, and -the bride in her wedding gown all crumpled and soiled, clinging to -her newly-wedded husband in front of his saddle, and in a vastly -uncomfortable position. - -This astonishing arrival of a bride and bridegroom who were reputed to -be passing wealthy had of course vastly upset mine good host and his -amiable wife. But then English milors were known to be eccentric, in -fact most folk who had travelled in the fog-ridden country vowed that -all the people there were more or less mad. 'Twas but lately that they -had cut off the head of their king and set up a low-born soldier to -rule them. No wonder that King Louis--whom _le bon Dieu_ preserve!--was -greatly angered with these English, and only forgave them when they -returned to their senses and once more acknowledged the authority of -him who was their king by right divine. - -Worthy Monsieur Blond had explained all these matters to his buxom wife -in an off-hand yet comprehensive manner, the while the latter made -haste to hurry on the preparations for supper, for the pretty bride and -the English milor--deeply in love with one another though they were, as -any one who looked could see--had shown a very sensible and laudable -desire to have some of Mme. Blond's excellent croûte-au-pot to warm the -cockles of their young hearts. - -The second incident on this eventful evening was of minor importance, -and tended greatly to minimise the eccentricity of that romantic -arrival. The coach which should have brought the bridal pair to the -"Three Archangels" did come in due time--even whilst Mme. Blond was -preparing her bit of fricandeau garnished with fresh winter cabbage, -which was to be the second course at the bridal supper. - -The thoughtful mother of the love-sick bride had had the good sense to -send her daughter's effects along, and all recollection of the curious -arrival on horseback was forgotten before the prosy advent of boxes and -bundles of clothes. - -Mme. Blond, moreover, became fully satisfied that everything was right -as right could be, when she went upstairs to announce the arrival -of the coach. The bride's pretty face was as pink as the eglantine -in June, and her eyes brighter than the full moon outside, whilst -milor--ah, well, Mme. Blond had seen many a man in love in her day, -Blond himself had not been backward when he was courting her--but -never, never, had she seen a man so gloating on the sight of his young -wife, as that eccentric mad milor had done, the while the pretty dear -was prosily asking for supper. - -All then had been for the best at nine of the clock that evening, -but mark ye, what happened after that. Less than ten minutes later a -rider--obviously half exhausted from a long and wearying journey--drew -rein outside the "Three Archangels." M. Blond who more than once -had been in Paris, had no difficulty in recognising in the belated -traveller Master Legros, tailor in chief to His Majesty the King, and -the father of the pretty bride upstairs. - -Master Legros undoubtedly did not look like himself, though he did try -to assume a jaunty air as he asked to be shown the room wherein his -daughter and milor would presently be supping. - -It seemed a fairly simple incident at the time, this late arrival here -of the bride's father, though Mme. Blond in thinking over the matter -afterwards distinctly remembered that the fact did strike her as odd. -What should good M. Legros be doing at St. Denis at this tardy hour, -when most good citizens should be in bed, and when he had given his -paternal blessing to the young couple fully four hours ago? - -"Milor's best suit of clothes had not been finished in time for the -departure, and Maitre Legros brought it along himself," suggested M. -Blond placidly. - -But he scratched his dark poll while he made this suggestion knowing it -to be nonsense. - -Mme. Blond's premonitions proved to be correct. Half an hour elapsed, -the while she and Blond took turns on the upstairs landing to try and -hear something of what was going on inside that room, wherein awhile -ago the turtle doves had been cooing so prettily. The croûte-au-pot had -been ready ages ago but no one had asked for it. No sound penetrated -through the heavy oaken doors; only once had Mme. Blond heard a voice -raised in what seemed most terrible anger. She then fled incontinently -back to her kitchen. - -A quarter of an hour later M. Legros gave orders that the coach which -had brought his daughter's effects an hour previously, be got ready -at once, and that those horses be put to it that had been sent down -the day before with a view to the continuance of the journey to Havre. -He gave no explanation, of course, nor answered any of the discreet -questions put to him by Mme. Blond. He tried to swallow some hot soup, -but gave up the attempt after the third spoonful; he looked as white as -a sheet, and trembled like a poplar leaf in the breeze. Presently the -young bride came down the stairs. She still wore her wedding gown under -her thick dark cloak. Mme. Blond noticed how crumpled it looked and -that a great piece of the beautiful lace was torn off. - -But she wore her hood closely wrapped round her head, so neither -Monsieur nor Madame could see anything of her face; nor did she speak -any words, save a short "Thank you!" to Mme. Blond, and this she said -in a curious, husky voice as if her throat were choked. - -Maitre Legros paid lavishly for everything. The bride's boxes and -bundles were once more stowed away in the boot of the coach; then she -and her father stepped into the vehicle, the postillion cracked his -whip, there was a scraping of iron hoofs on the rough paving stones, a -clanking of chains, a shout or two and the lumbering coach turned out -toward the highroad and was quickly lost to sight in the gloom. - -After that nothing! - -Not a sound came from the room where the English milor had remained -alone. Mme. Blond at her wits' ends what to do or how to interpret the -remarkable series of incidents which had occurred beneath her roof, had -thought of knocking at milor's door and asking him if he would have -some supper. - -Her mind--which as her good man was wont to say--was ever inclined to -romance, had seen horrible visions of a bleeding corpse lying prone -upon the parlour floor. Suicide must have followed this forcible -abduction by an infuriated father, of the ardently worshipped bride. - -Great was her astonishment, perhaps also her disappointment, when -in answer to a peremptory "Come in" she went into the room and saw -milor standing there by the open window looking out upon the moonlit -landscape for all the world as if nothing had happened. - -"There he was," she explained somewhat irately to her man, for she felt -almost as if she had been cheated out of the most thrilling chapter of -her romance, "dressed in his beautiful bridal clothes, with arms folded -across his chest, and not a hair on his head the least bit ruffled. Ah! -these English! they have no heart. I thought to find him either with a -sword thrust through his heart, else a man mad and raving with grief. -Holy Virgin! Had my father taken me away from thee, my Blond, on the -very night of our wedding day, wouldst thou not have been crazy with -rage, even if thou hadst not actually committed suicide? There's heart -for thee! There's love! But not in these English! And wilt believe me -that when I said something to milor about supper, he did not even curse -me, but said quite quietly that he had no hunger." - -Well now! does not all that give furiously to think? - -Milor had no hunger, the bride had gone and the supper was ready. What -could Mme. Blond do better than to dish up the croûte-au-pot and the -fricandeau with the winter cabbage and to serve it to her man? - -Monsieur Blond took off his heavy boots and donned a pair of cloth -slippers, he covered his dark hair with a warmly-fitting cap and drew -the most comfortable chair to the table, preparatory to enjoying a -supper fit for an English milor. - -But he was not destined to enjoy more than a preliminary sniff at the -succulent croûte-au-pot. Mme. Blond had been very talkative and the -dishing-up process consequently slow, and at the very moment when good -M. Blond was conveying the first spoonful of soup to his mouth there -was a loud noise of wheels grating against the slipper, the cracking -of a whip and a good deal of shouting; all of which were unmistakable -signs that more mysterious travellers had chosen this eventful night -for their arrival at the "Three Archangels." - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - What whisperest thou? Nay, why - Name the dead hours? I mind them well: - Their ghosts in many darkened doorways dwell - With desolate eyes to know them by. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -Michael Kestyon had paid no heed to the noise of this last arrival. -Indeed he had heard nothing since that one awful noise, the departure -of the coach which bore her away from him. How long ago that was he -could not say. It might have been a moment or a cycle of years. Just -before it he had had his last glimpse of her. She crossed the room in -company with her father, who had come up to fetch her. She was wrapped -from head to foot in cloak and hood; all that he could see of her was -her torn wedding gown. - -He made no movement as she walked past him, and though his whole soul -called out her name, his lips uttered no sound. What were the use? If -she did not hear the silent call of love, no words could move her. - -"Even his memory hath faded from my ken." - -Michael vaguely remembering the sacred tale told him in his childhood -by his mother of how God had hurled His sinful angels from Heaven down -to Hell, could not recall that in His anger He had used words that were -quite so cruel. - -Well, that page in life had been written, the book was closed. One -brief glimpse at possible happiness, one tiny chink open in the gates -of paradise, and then once more the weary tramp along the road which -leads to misery on this earth, to perdition hereafter. - -The gambler had staked his all upon one venture and had lost. But -Michael Kestyon was not made of the mould which rots in a suicide's -grave or harbours a brain which goes crazy with grief. - -A weaker man would have felt regrets, a better man would have been -racked with remorse. Michael with her words ringing in his ears thought -only of redemption. - -"My father and mother, who loved you as their son, will never again -hold their heads high among their kind--for a dishonoured daughter is -a lasting curse upon a house. That is your work, stranger--it is writ -on the front page in the book of the recording angel, and all the tears -which you may shed, all the blood and all the atonement could not now -wipe that front page clean." - -The gambler in losing all had, it seems, involved others in his ruin; -innocent people who had loved and trusted him. The debt which he had -thus contracted would have to be paid to them, not in the coin which -Michael had tendered--since it had been dross in their sight--but in -coin which would compensate them for all that they had lost. - -And it was because of the future redemption of that great debt, because -of all that there was yet to do, that Michael held such a tight rein -over his reason, the while it almost tottered beneath the crushing -blow. Nor did he allow the thought of suicide to dwell in his mind. Yet -madness and death--the twin phantoms born of cowardice--lurked within -the dark shadows of the low-raftered room, after Rose Marie's last -passage along the uneven floor when her torn wedding gown swept over -the boards with a sighing and swishing sound, which would reverberate -in Michael's heart throughout eternity. - -From beneath the lintel of that oaken door which had clanged to behind -her, the spectre of madness grinned into the deserted room, and -beckoned to the man who stood there in utter loneliness; and on the -window-sill whereat she had sat awhile ago the gaunt shadow of suicide -whispered the alluring words: Rest! Forgetfulness! Rest! Forgetfulness! - -Michael did not flee from the twin demons. He called them to his side -and looked fully and squarely at their hideous, alluring forms. - -Madness and Death! Destruction of the mind or of the body. Both would -blot her image from his soul. Madness enticed by drink would mean the -bestial forgetfulness of heavy sleep and addled intellect. Death would -mean infinite peace. - -The struggle 'twixt devils and the man was fierce and short. Anon the -crouching spectres vanished into the night; and the man stood there -in splendid isolation with the memory of a great crime and of a brief -joy for sole companion of his loneliness. But the man was a man for -all that; body and mind were still the slaves of his will, not for the -carving of his own fortune now, not for the spinning of the web of -Fate, but bound and fettered under the heel of an iron determination to -wipe out the writing on that front page in the book of the recording -angel; not by tears, not by blood and cringing atonement, but by deeds -and acts dark if necessary, heroic always, by vanquishing the wrongs of -the past with the triumphant redemption to come. - -In this mood the good landlady of the "Three Archangels" found him and -marvelled at British indifference in the face of a love tragedy. And he -was still in this selfsame mood half an hour or so later when my lord -of Stowmaries and his friends came upon the solitary watcher in the -night. - -Michael had not eaten, nor had he relinquished his place by the open -window, for it seemed to his over-sensitive mind as if the sound of -those wheels which bore his snowdrop further and further away from him -echoed against the distant bank of storm-portending clouds, and though -the heartrending sound reverberated within him like unto the grinding -of the rack which tears the limbs and martyrizes the body, yet it still -seemed something of her, the last memory, the final farewell. - -It was past ten o'clock now, and of a surety Michael thought that he -must have fallen asleep, dreaming by that open window, when the sudden -noise of several familiar voices, a loud if somewhat forced laugh, and -the peremptory throwing open of the door brought the dreamer back to -the exigencies of the moment. - -The aspect of the room was almost weird, dark and gloomy with only the -slanting moonbeams to touch with pale and capricious light the tall, -solitary figure in the window embrasure. - -For a moment the three men paused beneath the lintel, their volatile -imagination strangely gripped by the picture before them, that dark -silhouette against the moonlit landscape beyond, the total air of -desolation and loneliness which seemed to hang like a pall even in the -gloom. - -Sir John Ayloffe was the first to shake himself free from this unwonted -feeling of superstitious awe: - -"Friend Michael, by the Mass!" he shouted with somewhat forced -jocoseness. "Still astir, and like the love-sick poet contemplating the -moon." - -The loud words broke the spell of subtle and weird magic which seemed -to pervade the place. Michael Kestyon gave a start and turned abruptly -away from the window. - -"Are we welcome, Michael?" added Lord Rochester pleasantly. "Or do we -intrude?" - -Michael whose surprise at seeing the three men had been quite -momentary, now came forward with outstretched hands. - -"Not in the least," he said cordially, "and ye are right welcome. I had -thoughts of going to bed and yet was longing for merry company, little -guessing that it would thus unexpectedly fall from heaven. And may I -ask what procures St. Denis the honour of this tardy visit from so -distinguished a company?" - -"The desire to see you, Cousin," here interposed Lord Stowmaries, "and -if you'll allow us, to sup with you, for we were not invited to your -wedding feast, remember, and have not enjoyed the worthy tailor's good -cheer." - -"We have not tasted food since the middle of the day," added Ayloffe, -"and that was none of the best." - -"But mayhap Michael hath supped," suggested Lord Rochester, who -contrary to his usual freedom of manner and speech seemed unaccountably -reticent for the nonce. - -"Nay, nay! And if I had I could sup again in such elegant company," -rejoined Michael. "But I was dreaming indeed since I was forgetting -that we were still in the dark. Our amiable host must bring us light as -well as food. It will give me much pleasure to see your amiable faces -more clearly." - -Even as he spoke he went to the door, and soon his calls to Mme. Blond -for lights and supper echoed pleasantly through the house. - -The three others were left staring at one another in blank surprise. -They had not thought of putting questions to mine host on their -arrival, but had merely and somewhat peremptorily ordered M. Blond to -show them up to the room occupied by their friend, the English milor. -They, therefore, knew nothing of what had happened, but all three of -them vaguely felt--by a curious, unexplainable instinct--that something -was amiss, and knew that Michael's attitude of serene indifference was -only an assumed rôle. - -"Strike me dead but there's something almost uncanny about the man," -said Lord Rochester, forcing a laugh. - -"Something has happened of course," rejoined Ayloffe, "but nothing to -concern us. Mayhap an early quarrel with the bride." - -"'Tis strange, forsooth, to find the bridegroom alone at this hour," -added Stowmaries, whilst the refrain of a ribald song rose somewhat -affectedly to his lips. - -But Rochester quickly checked him, for Michael's footstep was heard on -the landing. The latter now entered, closely followed by M. Blond who -carried a couple of candelabra of heavy metal and fitted with tallow -candles. - -These he soon lighted and the flickering yellow flames quickly -dispersed the gloom which lingered in the corners of the room. They -threw into full relief the faces of the four men, three of whom -retained an expression of great bewilderment, whilst the fourth looked -serene and placid, as if the entertaining of his friends was for nonce -the most momentous thing in his existence. - -Michael went to the window and with a quick, impatient gesture he -pulled the curtains together, shutting out the moonlit landscape -and the silhouette of the trees, whose soft sighs had been the -accompaniment to the murmur of her voice; mayhap he had a thought of -shutting out at the same time the very remembrance of the past. - -Then he turned once more to the others and his face now was a perfect -mirror of jovial good-humour as he said gaily: - -"I hope, gentlemen, that you are anhungered. As for me I could devour -a wilderness of frogs, so be it that it is the only food of which -this remarkable country can boast. I pray you sit. Supper will not be -long--and in the meanwhile tell me, pray, the latest gossip in London." - -The company settled itself around the table. Every one was glad enough -to be rid of the uncanny sensation of awhile ago. M. Blond in the -meanwhile had bustled out of the room but he soon reappeared bearing -platters and spoons, and, what was more to the purpose, pewter mugs and -huge tankards of good red wine. Close behind him came his portly spouse -holding aloft with massive, outstretched arms, the monumental tureen -whence escaped the savoury fumes of her famous croûte-au-pot. - -Loud cheers greeted the arrival of the worthy pair. Mme. Blond quickly -fell to, distributing the soup with no niggardly hand, the while her -man made the round, filling the mugs with excellent wine. - -Gossip became general. Rochester as usual was full of anecdotes, bits -of scandal and gossip, retailed with a free tongue and an inexhaustible -fund of somewhat boisterous humour. The soup was beyond reproach and -the wine more than drinkable. - -"Gad's 'ounds," he cried presently when Blond and his wife had retired, -leaving the English company to itself, "this is a feast fit for the -gods! Michael Kestyon, our amiable host, I raise my glass to thee! -Gentlemen, our host!" - -He raised his glass, Stowmaries following suit; but Ayloffe checked -them both with a peremptory lifting of his hand. - -"Nay, nay!" he said, "my lord Rochester you do forget--and you, too, -gentlemen! Fie on you, fie, I say! Not a drop shall pass your lips -until you have pledged me as you should. 'Tis I will give you the first -toast of the evening. Gentlemen, the bride!" - -There was loud clapping of mugs against the table, then lusty shouts of -"The bride! the bride!" The three men raised their bumpers and drained -them to the last drop, honouring the toast to the full. Sir John looked -keenly at Michael, but even his sharp, observant eyes could not detect -the slightest change in the calm and serene face. Michael, too, had -raised his mug, but Ayloffe noted that he did not touch the wine with -his lips. - -Shrewd Sir John ever alive to his own interests fell to speculating as -to what had gone amiss, and whether any event had been likely to occur -which would affect his own prospects in any way. Mistress Peyton's -twelve thousand pounds had not yet--remember,--been transferred to -Cousin John's pocket, and no one was more profoundly aware of the -truth of the old dictum that "there's many a slip--" than was Sir John -Ayloffe himself. But there was naught to read on Michael Kestyon's -placid face, only the vague suspicion of carefully concealed weariness; -and in Ayloffe's practical mind there was something distinctly -unnatural in the serene calm of a man who was richer to-day by one -hundred and twenty thousand pounds, not even to mention an excessively -pretty and well-dowered bride. - -Sir John, relying on his own powers of observation, had every intention -of probing this matter to the bottom, but in the meanwhile he thought -it best not to let the others see, too clearly, what he himself had -only vaguely guessed, therefore it was he again who shouted more -lustily even than before: - -"Now the bridegroom, gentlemen! I give you the bridegroom! Long live! -Long live I say!" - -He was on his feet waving his mug with every lusty shout. Then he -drained it once more to the last drop, Stowmaries and Rochester doing -likewise, for time-honoured custom demanded that such toasts must be -responded to right heartily. Michael however made no acknowledgment as -he should have done. He sat quite still with slender, nervy fingers -idly toying with the crumbs on the table. - -"Respond, Michael, respond," cried Lord Rochester who seemed to -have quite shaken off his former diffidence. "Man, are you in the -clouds?--Of a surety," he continued with a knowing wink directed at his -friends, "'twere no marvel on this eventful night, and with a pretty -bride awaiting her lord not thirty paces away on the other side of that -door. We saw her in church, Michael, and by Gad, man, you are a lucky -dog! But we did drink to the bridegroom and--" - -"And I, too, drink to him," interposed Michael loudly, as he rose to -his feet, bumper in hand and turned directly to his Cousin Stowmaries, -"to you, my lord and cousin do I drink--the only bridegroom worthy of -such a bride." - -To say the least of it, this speech was vastly astonishing. No one -quite knew how to take it, and as Michael drained his cup Stowmaries -broke into a forced laugh. - -"You do flatter me, Coz," he said, feeling strangely uncomfortable -under the other's steady gaze, and realising that some sort of reply -was expected of him, "but of a truth the flattery is misplaced. The -bride is yours and you have won her by fair means; and I, in my turn, -will add something to my lord Rochester's toast--something which, an -I mistake not, will be vastly acceptable to you--a draft for seventy -thousand pounds on my banker, Master Vivish of Fleet Street. The final -payment of my debt to you." - -And Stowmaries took a paper from the pocket of his surcoat and handed -it to Michael, who made no movement to take it. - -"Cousin," he said, "when I accepted the bargain which you offered me, -I was more deeply in my cups than I myself had any idea of. Let us -admit that 'twas an ignoble bargain, shameful alike to me and to you. -Now I would pray you to return that draft to your pocket; 'tis but -little I have spent of that first fifty thousand pounds, the balance -of what remains you shall have on my return to London, as for the -rest--that which I have so foolishly spent--I pray you to grant me a -few months delay and I will repay you to the full. Thus we two who made -the bargain, and these two gentlemen who witnessed it, will cease to -have aught but a dim recollection of the shameful doings of a mad and -roisterous night." - -Silence greeted this strange speech. The beginning of it had at once -awakened surprise, the end left the three men there present in a -state of complete puzzlement. Stowmaries frankly gazed at Michael -with wide-open eyes wherein good-humoured contempt fought with utter -amazement. - -Then as no one spoke, Michael added quietly: - -"I await your answer, Cousin." - -"Tush, man, you are joking," retorted Stowmaries with a shrug of the -shoulders. - -"I never was more serious in my life," rejoined the other with deep -earnestness, "and 'tis a serious answer that I ask of you." - -"But I know not to what your lengthy speech did tend, how can I give it -answer?" - -"I asked you to put that draft for money yet unpaid into your pocket; I -propose to repay you in full every penny of that which this folly hath -already cost you, and you on the other hand can fulfil your obligations -to the lady who, of a truth, is still legally your wife." - -"Hold on, man, hold on!" cried Stowmaries almost in dismay, for it -seemed to him that his cousin was bereft of his senses. "Odd's fish! -But you talk like a madman--and a dangerous one, too, for you use words -which, were I not your guest, I could not help but resent." - -"There is naught to resent, Cousin, in what I say, nor is it the act or -speech of a madman to ask you to rescind a bargain which tended neither -to your honour nor to mine own." - -"But, by the Mass, Cousin, the bargain good or bad, righteous or -shameful, is no longer in the making. Even were I so minded--which -by our Lady I vow that I am not--I could not now release you of your -pledged word to me. What is done, is done, and you have fulfilled your -share of the bargain. Now 'tis my turn as an honourable gentlemen to -acquit myself of my debt to you. So I pray you take the money--it is -justly yours--but do not prate any further nonsense." - -"Ay! ay! friend Kestyon," added Ayloffe with his habitual bonhomme, -through which nevertheless the cloven hoof of sarcasm was quite -perceptible, "do not allow your over-sensitive conscience to persuade -you into refusing what is justly your due." - -"Odd's fish, man, you have won the bride and thereby rendered -Stowmaries an incomparable service," quoth Lord Rochester decisively, -"and--" - -He was about to say more but Michael interrupted him. - -"I pray you, gentlemen," he said, "grant me patience for awhile; I -fear me that my gentle cousin did not altogether grasp my meaning. -Cousin," he added, turning once more fully to Stowmaries, "will you -put your money back into your pocket and instead of fulfilling your -engagements to me, fulfil them toward the lady who hath first claims on -your loyalty?" - -"Tush, man!" retorted Stowmaries, who was waxing wrathful, "cannot you -cease that senseless talk? The thing is done, man, the thing is done. -Gad! We none of us want it undone, nor could we an we would." - -"My lord of Stowmaries is right," concluded Lord Rochester decisively, -"and you, Kestyon, do but run your head against a stone wall. An you -feel remorse, I for one am sorry for you--but what has been, has been. -You no more can withdraw from your present position than you could -erase from the Book of Life all that has passed to-day. So take your -money, man, you have the right to it. Odd's fish! A hundred and twenty -thousand pounds, and you talk of flinging it as a sop to your perturbed -conscience." - -"Who talked of conscience, my lord?" rejoined Michael haughtily, "or -yet of remorse? Surely not I. We have all been gambling on an issue, -and I now offer my cousin of Stowmaries his own stakes back again an -he'll pay his just debt to his wife rather than to me." - -"My wife, man, are you joking!" retorted Stowmaries hotly. "After what -has occurred, think you I would take for my countess--" - -"The purest, most exquisite woman, Cousin, that ever graced a man's -ancestral home," interposed Michael earnestly. "To say less of her were -blasphemy." - -"Pshaw!" ejaculated Stowmaries with ill-concealed contempt. - -"Cousin, I swear to you," reiterated Michael with solemn emphasis, -"by all that men hold most sacred, by all that I hold most holy, that -the lady is as pure to-day as when her baby hand was placed in yours -eighteen years ago, in token that she was to be your wife. She is as -worthy to be the wife of a good man, the mother of loyal children, as I -am unfit to tie the laces of her shoe. An you'll do your duty by her, -you'll never regret it--all that you will regret will be the memory of -that turbulent night when in your madness you thought of wronging her!" - -"By God, man, I swear that you are crazy!" cried Stowmaries whose -impatience had been visibly growing and who now gave full rein to his -exasperation. "Are you a damned, canting Puritan that you talk to me -like that? Nay, an you wish to be rid of yon baggage, send her back -to the tailor's back shop whence she came,--throw her out into the -streets,--I care not what you do with her, but in G--d's name I tell -you that you shall not palm off on to my mother's son a cast-off troll -whom you no longer want." - -But even before the words had fully escaped the young man's lips -Michael had lifted his glass and thrown its full contents in the face -of the blasphemer. - -Sickened and blinded with his own fury and the pungent odour of the -wine which poured down his face into his eyes and mouth, Stowmaries -uttered a violent oath and the next instant had sprung upon his kinsman -like an infuriated and raging beast, and had him by the throat even -before Ayloffe and Rochester who had quickly jumped to their feet were -able to interfere. - -The onslaught was vigorous and sudden and Stowmaries' fury hot and -uncontrolled. But Michael who throughout the wordy warfare had kept his -own temper in check, who had foreseen the attack even when he threw the -wine in the younger man's face, had already grasped Stowmaries' wrists -with a steel-like pressure of his own nervy hands, causing the other -to relax his grip and forcing an involuntary cry of pain to escape his -throat. - -"Nay, Cousin," he said, still speaking quite quietly, but with a slight -tone of contempt now, "in a hand-to-hand struggle you would fare worse -than I. Have I hurt your wrist? Then am I deeply grieved--but 'tis not -broken I assure you--and you know, dear Coz, that since you are still -my debtor, you could not in honour kill me until you had acquitted -yourself of your debt to me. I have offered you a fair way of paying -that debt, not to me but to her to whom you really owe it. An you'll -keep your money now, and take back all you've given me, an you'll -fulfil your sacred promise to take Rose Marie for wife, you'll be the -happiest man on God's earth. This I swear to you, and also that I'll -serve you humbly and devotedly as servant or as slave to the last day -of my life and with the last drop of blood in my veins. After that an -you wish to kill me--why, my life is at your service. Will you do it, -Cousin? God and his army of saints and of angels will give you rich -reward." - -But Stowmaries who with a sulky look on his face was readjusting the -lace ruffles at his wrist whilst glowering at the man whose physical -strength he had just been made to feel, turned on him now with an evil -sneer. - -"You seem to be intimately acquainted with the heavenly hierarchy, -Cousin," he said, "but, believe me, I have no intention of entering -those celestial spheres which are of your own imagining and of which -you seem to be the self-constituted guardian." - -"Sneer at me as much as you will, Cousin, but give me answer," urged -Michael and for the first time his voice shook as he uttered this -final, desperate appeal, "'Twere best for you--this I entreat you to -believe. Best for you and right for her. As for me, I no longer exist; -the ignoble bargain has never been; wipe it out, Cousin, even from your -memory. Take back your money and with it your honour. She is worthy of -your love, of your faith and of your trust; take her to your heart, -Cousin, take her for she is as pure as the Madonna and you will be -richer by all that she can give, the priceless guerdon of her exquisite -womanhood." - -The other two men were silent. They had taken no part in the discussion -and had listened to it each with vastly divers emotions. Rochester, -a noble gentleman despite his many extravagances, could not help but -admire the man who thus stood up boldly to right a wrong, fearless -of consequences, fearless of ridicule. But Ayloffe merely hoped that -Michael's rugged eloquence, his earnest, passionate appeal would -fail to reach the armour of selfishness and vanity which effectually -enveloped Stowmaries' better nature. - -Now after this last appeal there was a pause. The storm of turbulent -passions was lulled to momentary rest, the better to gather strength -for the final conflict. - -"Take her to your heart, Cousin," Michael had urged, and no one there -could guess the infinity of renunciation which lay in this appeal. -Stowmaries was silent for awhile. His glowering eyes expressed nothing -but unyielding obstinacy. Otherwise he was totally unmoved. - -Then, keeping his gaze rivetted on Michael, he pointed with -outstretched finger to the paper which lay on the table--the draft for -seventy thousand pounds on Master Vivish of Fleet Street. - -"That is my answer, Cousin," he said loudly and firmly. "You have -rendered me a service; for this now I pay you to the full as agreed. -Let there be no more of this crazy talk, for what is done is done, and -you above all should be satisfied." - -Once more there was silence in the low-raftered room. A gust of wind -blew the thin curtains way from the open window and caused the scrap of -paper to stir with a soft sound as of a spirit voice that murmured a -warning "Hush!" - -Michael had neither moved nor spoken, not a line of his face betrayed -the conflict in his soul. But three pairs of eyes were fixed upon him. -He did not seem to see them, for his own were fixed on the fluttering -curtain which had whispered spectral words to him; between the gently -swaying folds there peeped cold gleams of moonbeam radiance, and from -far away the sighing of the young acacia boughs which had mingled with -her voice awhile ago. - -Then he turned his gaze back to the paper which lay before him, still -gently stirring under the soft breath of the evening air. Deliberately -and with a firm hand he took it up, folded it across and across and -slipped it in the inner pocket of his coat. - -"You know best, Cousin," he said in a quiet, unmodulated voice. "As you -say, I have rendered you a service. You have paid me in full according -to our bond. We should both be satisfied. And now, gentlemen, shall we -proceed with supper?" - - - - - PART IV - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - And do you ask what game she plays? - With me 'tis lost or won; - With thee it is playing still; with him - It is not well begun; - But 'tis a game she plays with all - Beneath the sway o' the sun. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -Mistress Julia Peyton felt a trifle worried. Matters had not turned out -exactly as she had anticipated; it is a way peculiar to matters over -which we have no control. - -She had been quite aware of the fact that my lord of Stowmaries, with -Sir John Ayloffe and Lord Rochester, had made the journey over to Paris -in order to be present at the marriage of Michael Kestyon with the -tailor's daughter, and it had been with the intention of frustrating -my lord's desire to pay his final debt of seventy thousand pounds -to Michael that she had sent old Daniel Pye over in the gentlemen's -company, armed with the letters writ in scholarly French by the exiled -Huguenot clerk and intended for good M. Legros' personal perusal. - -Mistress Peyton had no special wish to save the susceptibilities of a -tailor's wench, and cared little whether the fraud was discovered by -her before she had left her father's home or afterwards, but--she had -argued this out in her own mind over and over again--if the girl never -actually left her father's house, my lord would not in honour be bound -to pay Michael the additional seventy thousand pounds, since the latter -would not have accomplished his own share of the bargain to the full. -On the other hand there would be quite enough public scandal and gossip -round the girl, as it was, to enable my lord of Stowmaries to justify -his repudiation of the matrimonial bonds, contracted eighteen years -ago, on the grounds that the future Countess of Stowmaries no longer -bore a spotless reputation. - -That had been Mistress Peyton's subtle argument, and on the basis of -this unanswerable logic she had laid her plans. Caring nothing for the -girl, she cared everything for the money, and above all for the power -that so vast a sum would place in Michael's hand for the furtherance of -his own case. - -Daniel Pye had returned to England about a week after the wedding -at St. Gervais. He was an unblushing liar, both by habit and by -temperament. Therefore, when he presented himself before his mistress, -he assured her that he had handed her letter over to the master tailor -even while the wedding festivities were in progress in the back shop, -and long before the coach bore the bridal pair away. - -When Mistress Peyton heard the circumstantial narrative of how her -faithful henchman had fought his way into the tailor's house at peril -of his life, and had given the letter into M. Legros' own hands, the -while his own poor shoulders were bruised and well-nigh broken with -the blows dealt to him by cruel miscreants who strove to hinder him -from performing his duty--when the fair Julia heard all this, I say, -she was vastly pleased and commended Master Pye very highly for his -faithfulness, and I believe even rewarded him by giving him five -shillings. - -The wedding it seems had been the talk of Paris, ladies and gentlemen -from the Court had been present thereat, and Mme. de Montespan had -loudly praised the handsome presence of the bridegroom. All this was -passing satisfactory, and Mistress Julia was quite content to think -that the tailor and his family would--after such an esclandre--be -only too willing to hide their humble heads out of the ken of society -wherein they had become a laughing stock. - -On legal grounds my lord of Stowmaries could readily command the -nullity of the child-marriage now; as for the religious grounds -which had been the chief stumbling-block hitherto--"Bah!" argued the -fair Julia naïvely to herself, "His Holiness the Pope of Rome is a -gentleman; he will not expect an English grand seigneur to acknowledge -as his countess the cast-off plaything of an adventurer." - -The disappointment came some three or four days later when Cousin -John in his turn presented himself at the little house in Holborn -Row. Of course he had known nothing of his fair cousin's treacherous -little scheme, and although he had greatly wondered at Master Pye's -presence in Paris at the time of the wedding, yet he had been far from -suspecting the truth with regard to its purport. All that good Sir John -knew was that the bridal pair did leave the house of M. Legros in a -somewhat unconventional style, for this he had been told by the gaffers -of the neighbourhood. - -He had not seen the departure, but had heard glowing accounts of it all -from one or two of the spectators whom he had closely questioned. - -There was no doubt that it had been a fine departure: romantic and -epoch-making. No fear now of the scandal being in any way hushed up. -"Milor the Englishman," as that rascal Michael had been universally -called in that quarter of Paris wherein his prowess had been -witnessed, was a magnificent horseman, so the gossips declared with -one accord. The way he had jumped on his horse, using neither stirrup -nor bridle, was a sight good for sore eyes, then two of his English -serving-men had raised the bride to his saddle bow, and after a lusty -shout of farewell milor had ridden away with her, and soon his horse -was head galloping at maddening speed. Never had such a spectacle been -witnessed in the streets of Paris before; the gaffers were still agape -at the remembrance of it, and it had all seemed more like a vivid and -exciting dream than like sober reality. - -But no sooner had milor and the bride disappeared round the bend of the -narrow street than the first breath of gossip rose--apparently from -nothingness--in their wake. Whence it originated nobody knew, but sure -it is that within an hour the whole of the quarter was agog with the -scandal. Cousin John prided himself on the fact that he had contributed -more than his share in spreading the report from one end of Paris to -the other that the daughter of the mightily rich and highly-respectable -tailor-in-chief of His Majesty the King of France had eloped with -an adventurer, who was even kinsman to her own husband, my lord of -Stowmaries and Rivaulx. - -"The scandal is quite immense, fair Cousin," quoth Cousin John -lustily, and with a merry guffaw the while he sat sipping sack-posset -in Mistress Peyton's elegantly furnished boudoir. "Personally I see -naught for the tailor's wench but the inevitable nunnery, although -Michael--but of this more anon. In the meanwhile Mme. de Montespan -dotes on the adventure. Lord Rochester retailed it all to her outside -the church porch, and you may well believe that it hath lost naught in -the telling. She quite fell in love with Michael's handsome presence, -and His Majesty the King of France vows that English gentlemen are the -primest rogues on this earth; and even sober diplomatists aver that -Michael's prowess and Michael's romantic personality have done more to -cement international friendship than a whole host of secret treaties. -From the Court the scandal hath reached the lower classes of Paris, all -thanks to your humble servant, so I flatter myself; the tailor and his -family are the butt of every quip-maker in the city. There is a rhyme -that goes the round which--nay, your pardon, fair Cousin, I could not -repeat it for fear of offending your ears, but let me assure you that -the heroine thereof is not like to petition Monseigneur the Archbishop -of Paris or His Holiness the Pope to assert her rights to be Countess -of Stowmaries--Countess of Stowmaries," added Sir John with another -prolonged guffaw, "Countess of Stowmaries! Odd's fish! In Paris they -sing of her: '_Une vertu ingulière_--' your pardon--your pardon again, -dear Coz, I was forgetting--" - -And Cousin John had indeed to stop in his narration, for he was choking -for very laughter and the tears were streaming down his ruddy cheeks. - -Mistress Peyton had listened to the cheerful tale with but -ill-repressed impatience, and had not Sir John been so absorbed in -what was his favourite topic of conversation--the tearing to shreds -of a woman's reputation--he would not have failed to notice that his -kinswoman was far from sharing his own hilarity. - -Of a truth, the fair Julia's impatience soon gave place to great anger, -for it was by now quite clear to her that Daniel Pye had failed in -his trust, that he had not only lied like a consummate rogue, but had -actually by his unforgivable delinquency caused his mistress' most -cherished and carefully-conceived counter-intrigue to come absolutely -to naught. - -Michael Kestyon had carried off the bride and Lord Stowmaries could not -now as a man of honour refuse to pay him that final seventy thousand -pounds; a fortune, forsooth, wherewith the adventurer, the wastrel, the -haunter of brothels and booths could now make good his claim to the -title and peerage of Stowmaries and Rivaulx. - -Given a dissolute, money-grabbing king on whose decision the claim -for the peerage rested, given this adventure which rendered Michael -interesting to those who had the ear of Charles Stuart, and what more -likely than that the present lord of Stowmaries should find himself in -the terrible position of having paid for his own undoing? - -And all because a fool of a serving-man had failed in doing what he -had been ordered to do, and this in despite of the most carefully -thought-out plans, most ardent wishes and most subtle schemes. We may -take it that visions of a terrible retribution to be wreaked on that -rascally Daniel Pye already found birth in his mistress' inventive -brain; and whilst good Cousin John was wiping the tears of laughter -which his own narrative had called to his bulgy eyes, his fair cousin -was meditating on the best pretext she could employ for ordering Pye to -be lawfully and publicly flogged. - -At last Mistress Peyton's sullen silence brought Cousin John back from -the pleasing realms of gossip and scandal. Looking into her face he saw -anger, where he had expected to witness a smile of triumph; he also saw -two perfect lips closed tightly in obvious moodiness, the while he had -looked forward to unstinted praise for his own share in the furtherance -of her desires. - -Cousin John, therefore, was vastly astonished. Puzzlement in its turn -yielded to speculation. Mistress Julia was angered--why? She had -desired the scandal; now she seemed to resent it. Something had gone -amiss then--or had she veered round in her intentions? - -Women were strange cattle in Sir John Ayloffe's estimation. Had his -ambitious cousin perchance nurtured some counter-scheme of her own, -which had come to naught through the success of the original intrigue? -It almost seemed like it from the wrathful expression of her face. - -The presence of Daniel Pye in Paris came back to Sir John as a swift -memory. There had been a counter-intrigue then? - -Of a truth this would trouble him but little, provided that such -intrigue did not affect the due payment to himself of the twelve -thousand pounds promised by the capricious lady. But of this guerdon he -felt fully assured. Which is another proof of the truth of the ancient -adage which says that there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip, and also -of the fact that women are far keener diviners of such untoward slips -than are those who belong to the sterner and less intuitive sex. - -Even while the prospect of those pleasing thousands was flitting--all -unbeknown to him--further and further from his future grasp, Sir John, -studying his cousin's unaccountable mood tried to make some of his -wonted cynical maxims anent the motives and emotions of the other sex -fit the present situation. - -Mistress Peyton was angered when she should have been pleased. Had she -perchance conceived an attachment for the romantic blackguard? Such -things were possible--women's tastes ever erred on the queer side--and -this would certainly account for Julia's impatient anger when she -heard of Michael's interesting departure with the beautiful bride in -his arms. - -Nay then! if this was the case, good Cousin John had still the cream -of his narrative in reserve, and the final episode which he had to -relate would of a surety satisfy the most rancorous feelings of revenge -harboured against a hated rival by any fair monster that wore petticoat. - -And at the moment that Mistress Peyton finally decided in her own mind -that an accusation of theft preferred by herself against Daniel Pye -would bring that elderly reprobate to the whipping post and the stocks, -Cousin John's mellifluent voice broke in upon these pleasant dreams. - -"Odd's fish, fair Coz," he said loudly and emphatically, for he desired -his words to rouse her from her absorption, "imagine our surprise, -nay, our consternation when on our arrival at St. Denis we found one -solitary turtledove mourning over the absence of the other--" - -The effect of these words was instantaneous. The fair Julia's thoughts -suddenly flew from prospective vengeance to present interests, and -though the frown did not disappear from her brow, her eyes flashed -eagerness now rather than anger. - -"What nonsense is this?" she queried with a show of petulance. "I pray -you, Cousin, speak with less imagery. The matter is of serious portent -to me as you know--and also to yourself," she added significantly, "and -I fear me that my poor wits are too dull to follow the circumlocutions -of your flowery speech." - -Sir John smiled complacently; he was quite satisfied that he once more -held his cousin's undivided attention, and resumed his narrative with -imperturbable good-humour. - -"I crave your pardon, fair lady," he said, "but on my honour 'tis -just as I have told you. My lord of Stowmaries, Lord Rochester and -your humble servant did journey by coach to St. Denis, for we knew -that thither was the bridal couple bound. We drove in the lumbering -vehicle on God-forsaken roads all the way from Paris, and never in -all my life did I experience such uncomfortable journeying. 'Milor -the Englishman,' quoth Rochester as soon as his feet had touched the -ground, 'is he abed?' For you must know that it was then nigh on ten of -the clock and the hostelry of the Three Archangels looked as dark as -pitch from within and without. 'Milor is upstairs,' exclaimed mine host -who, of a surety, looked vastly bewildered at our arrival. He seemed -like a man bursting with news, and as if eager to explain something, -but we were too impatient to pay any heed to him at the time and ran -helter-skelter upstairs in the wake of Lord Rochester who, as you -know, is ever in the forefront in a spicy adventure, and who moreover -was eager for another peep at the bride, whom he had greatly admired -during the religious ceremony in the church. We none of us had any idea -that anything could be amiss, and as I have had the honour of assuring -you, our consternation was great when on entering the parlour we found -Michael standing by the open window, staring moodily out into the -dreary landscape, the room itself in total darkness, and--as we learnt -afterwards--the bride gone back to Paris by coach in company with her -father." - -"Impossible," ejaculated Mistress Peyton, feigning surprise which of a -truth she did not feel. What had been and still was a mystery to Sir -John was clear enough to his fair cousin, and there was, it seems, some -slight attenuation to Daniel Pye's monstrous delinquency. The letter, -by some idiotic blunder on the part of old Pye, had reached Master -Legros just a trifle too late, but it had reached him at last, and the -infuriated father had contrived to reach St. Denis in time to snatch -his daughter away from the arms of the adventurer--who thus stood -prematurely unmasked. - -"Impossible!" she reiterated the while Sir John like a true raconteur, -having succeeded in capturing her interest, made an effective pause -in his narration. He could not complain of her moodiness now, for she -seemed all eagerness and agitation. - -"True, nevertheless," he asserted quietly, "the bride was gone and -Michael--left desolate--seemed inclined to act like a man bereft of his -senses." - -"How mean you that?" she asked. - -"He had, it seems, fallen madly in love with the tailor's daughter, and -had no doubt during his hours of loneliness been assailed with remorse -at what he chose to call a shameful bargain." - -Again Cousin John paused; his large, prominent eyes were fixed once -more upon his cousin. Clearly there was an undercurrent of intrigue -going on here of which he did not as yet possess the entire secret, -for he had distinctly noted that at his last words the deep frown -which had still lingered on Julia's snow-white brow now vanished -completely, giving place to an excited look of hope. Something of the -inner workings of her mind began to dawn on him, however, a vague, -indefinable sense of what had gone before, what she had feared, and -what she now hoped. Therefore he waited awhile, watching her eager, -impatient face, the play of her delicate features, the nervous -movements of her hands, ere he resumed with well-simulated carelessness. - -"Ay! my dear Coz, the more I think on it, the more am I convinced that -Michael in his love-sickness became bereft of reason, for you'll scarce -believe it when I tell you that when my lord of Stowmaries desired to -acquit himself like an honourable gentleman of his debt to his kinsman, -and held out to him the draft for seventy thousand pounds, Michael -refused to take it." - -This time there was no mistaking the look of pleasure which lit up -the fair Julia's face. A less acute observer than was Sir John would -have realised at once that this last item of news was essentially -pleasant to the hearer. Mistress Peyton of a truth, found her anxieties -vanishing away, and was at no pains to hide the pleasure which she -felt. Hope was returning to her heart, also gratitude towards Fate who, -it seems, had been kind enough after all to play into her hands. - -Psychologically the situation was interesting, and we may assume that -Cousin John was no longer at sea now. He might not yet possess the key -which opened the magic gate into his fair cousin's secret orchard, but -he was essentially a gambler, an unscrupulous schemer himself; money, -to him, was the all-powerful solution of many an obscure puzzle. - -The mention of money had brought on the beautiful face before him the -first smile of satisfaction since the beginning of his narrative; -ergo, argued Cousin John, the fair mistress entered into a private, -villainous little scheme of her own, of calling the tune without paying -the piper. Women have no sense of honour, where debts between gentlemen -are concerned. - -Once on a track, Sir John was quick enough to follow the puzzle to its -satisfactory solution. But he was not pleased that his cousin, and -partner in the whole enterprise, should thus have intrigued without -his knowledge or counsel. Heavens above, if conspirators did not work -together, every plot, however well laid, would speedily abort. Women -were ever ready for these petty infamies; they seemed to revel in them, -to plan and scheme them even if--as in this case--they were wholly -superfluous. - -He was angry with his pretty cousin, and showed it by keeping her on -tenter-hooks, dropping his narrative and ostentatiously draining a mug -of posset to its last drop. He would force her, he thought, to disclose -her treacherous little hand to the full. - -And he succeeded, for as he did not speak she was quite unable to curb -her impatience. - -"Then--the money--" she asked with obviously affected indifference, -"what became of it?" - -"The money?" he asked blandly "What money?" - -"The seventy thousand pounds," she said, "which Michael Kestyon was to -receive and which he refused to take." - -Cousin John looked at her over the top of his goblet, his round, bulgy -eyes told her quite plainly that he had read her through and through, -and that he for one was not sorry that her little counter-scheme had -failed, since she had not thought fit to ask his advice. But he said -quite lightly, as one who speaks of a trifle too mean to dwell in the -memory: - -"Oh! the seventy thousand pounds! They are where they should be, dear -Cousin, in Michael Kestyon's pocket. The just reward for his services -rendered to his kinsman, your future lord, fair Coz!" - -"But you said just now--" she stammered on the verge of tears, for the -sudden sense of disappointment had been very bitter to bear. - -"I said that Michael had been smitten with remorse, and had at first -refused to take the money, but Lord Stowmaries soon overcame his -scruples and--" - -"Lord Stowmaries is a fool!" she interrupted hotly. - -Sir John feigned great astonishment. - -"A fool? For acquitting himself of a debt of honour?" he asked in tones -of mild reproof. - -"Ay! a fool, and thrice a fool," she reiterated with increased -vehemence, for she was no gaby and was not taken in now by Cousin -John's blandness. He had divined her thoughts, and guessed something -of her aborted plans; there was no occasion therefore to subdue her -annoyance any longer. "An Michael Kestyon was such a dotard as to -refuse a fortune," she continued, "why should my lord Stowmaries be -the one to force it upon him. Nay! The whole bargain was iniquitous or -worse. Ridiculous it was of a truth--one hundred and twenty thousand -pounds to a man who would have done the trick for so many pence. I -marvelled at you, Cousin, for lending a hand to such wanton waste and -did my best to circumvent your folly, but thanks to that dolt Daniel -Pye, and apparently to my lord Stowmaries' idiocy, Michael Kestyon -is now in possession of the means whereby he can divest the cousin -who paid him so well not only of his title but of all his wealth. A -blunder, Cousin, an idiotic, silly blunder," she added as she jumped -to her feet, unable to sit still, tramping up and down the room like a -raging wildcat, lashing herself into worse fury by picturing all the -evils which the unfortunate business would bring in its train, chief -amongst these being my lord Stowmaries' undoing, for which she really -cared naught only in so long as it affected her own prospects. - -"The silly adventure is already the talk of the town; the king has -asked to see Michael Kestyon. Bah! The man sold his kingdom, the -liberty and dignity of England for a sum not much larger than what -Michael can now offer him for a favourable decision in a peerage claim. -Ye saints above! what fools men are! what blind, blundering, silly -fools, the moment they begin to prate of honour!" - -Cousin John had allowed his fair cousin's vehement vituperations -to pass unchallenged over his humbled head. That there was some -truth in her argument he himself could not deny, and it was a fact -that fears very akin to her own in the matter of the money had more -than once crossed his mind. Feeling, therefore, that the reproof, -though exceptionally violent, was not undeserved, he dropped his -bland, cynical manner, and when at last the fair Julia paused in her -invectives, chiefly for lack of breath, and also because tears of -anger were choking her voice, he spoke to her quite quietly and almost -apologetically. - -"Indeed, Coz," he said, "I would have you believe that I am deeply -touched by your reproaches, which, alas, I may have merited to a -certain extent. Zeal in your cause may have rendered me less far-seeing -than I really should have been, considering what we both have at stake. -But let me tell you also that I have not been quite such a dolt as you -seem to think. You are quite wrong in supposing that Michael Kestyon -would have acted the part which he did for a less sum than we have -given him. Nothing but a real substantial fortune would have tempted -Michael. Nothing," reiterated Sir John emphatically, seeing that Julia -made a contemptuous gesture of incredulity. "He is a curious mixture -of the wastrel and the gentleman; if we could not satisfy his ambition, -we could not attack his sense of honour. Where we made the mistake was -in thinking that a substantial sum would satisfy him in itself. No one -guessed that his dormant claim to the peerage of Stowmaries was still -of such vital importance to him. He had ceased to move actively in the -matter partly through the lack of money, but also in part through the -moral collapse which he has undergone in the past two years. I confess -that I did think that when he was possessed of his newly-acquired -fortune, he would continue the life of dissolute vagabondage which we -all believed had become his second--nay, his only nature. It seems that -we were all mistaken--" - -"What do you mean? Has anything occurred already?" asked Julia, who -found all her fears increased tenfold at Cousin John's seriously-spoken -words. - -"No! No! No!" he said reassuringly, "nothing at present, save that -Michael Kestyon has made no attempt to return to his boon companions in -the various brothels which were wont to be his haunts. Rumour hath it -that he is oft seen in the company of my lord Shaftesbury, and there -is no doubt that the king was vastly amused by the adventure. Some say -that royal smiles are the sure precursors to royal favours. But between -entertaining Charles II with tales of spicy adventures and obtaining -actual decisions from him in important matters lie vast gulfs of kingly -indifference and of kindly indolence. There is nothing that the king -hates worse than the giving of a decision, and, believe me, that he -will dilly-dally with Michael until that young reprobate will have -spent every penny of his new fortune, and will have none left to offer -as a bribe to our merry monarch. It is not cheap, believe me, to be a -temporary boon companion to Charles Stuart, and a great deal more than -a hundred thousand pounds would have to pass through Michael's fingers -in keeping up a certain gentlemanly state, in tailor's accounts, in -bets and in losses at hazard, before the king would think of rewarding -him in the only manner which would compensate him for all the money -expended in obtaining the royal smiles." - -"You may be right, Cousin," said Mistress Peyton, somewhat reassured, -"at the same time a great deal of anxiety would have been saved me, if -that old liar Daniel Pye had done as he was bid. But he shall rue his -prevarications, and bitterly, too." - -"You may wreak what vengeance you will, fair Cousin, on the varlet who -hath disobeyed you. But I entreat you to keep your favours for those -who have tried to serve you to the best of their poor abilities. As -for the rest, let me assure you now that Michael Kestyon refused the -seventy thousand pounds and even offered to repay the first instalment -of fifty thousand on terms which were wholly unacceptable to Lord -Stowmaries. The chief condition being that my lord should rescind the -whole of the bargain, and take the tailor's wench back into his heart -and marital bosom. You see, fair Coz, how impossible it was to treat -with Michael at all, and we certainly were not to blame. My lord of -Stowmaries is still the happiest man on earth; glad enough to have -purchased his happiness for one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. An -I mistake not he is in Rome now, awaiting the Pope's decision--but that -is a foregone conclusion. Monseigneur the Archbishop hath assured him -of his cooperation. Soon my lord will receive that for which he craves: -religious dispensation to avail himself of the civil law of England -which will readily grant him nullity of marriage, and the blessing -of the Pope himself on his remarriage with the fairest beauty that -e'er hath graced an ancestral home. Until then I entreat you, Cousin," -added Sir John with elaborate gallantry, "to smooth away those frowns -of anxiety which ill become the future Countess of Stowmaries. Let me -see you smile, dear Coz, ere I take my leave, having, I trust, assured -you that you have no truer servant than your faithful kinsman, the -recipient of your favours, and, I trust, of many more in the not very -distant future." - -There was no resisting Cousin John's assurance and his smile of -confident encouragement. Mistress Peyton did allow the wrinkles of -anger to fade from her smooth brow. But complete peace of mind was not -restored to her in full; she was almost glad that "the happiest man on -earth" was away from her just now. She wanted to think matters over -in absolute quietude, away from her good cousin's bland platitudes. -It almost seemed as if Fate had reshuffled all her cards; she and -her partners in the great life-gamble, Lord Stowmaries, Sir John and -Michael Kestyon, too, had had fresh hands dealt to them. They needed -sorting and the game mayhap reconsidering. - -It was even doubtful at the present moment what was the chief trump -card. Daniel Pye with his clumsy fingers had abstracted one out of -his mistress' hand. At thought of that the frown returned and the -"fairest beauty that e'er graced an ancestral home" looked not unlike -a vengeful termagant gloating over the petty revenge which--in a small -measure--would compensate her for all anxieties past, present and to -come. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - - How! Old thief thy wits are lame; - To clip such it is no shame; - I rede you in the devil's name, - Ye come not here to make men game. - --SWINBURNE. - - -Daniel Pye, having arrived at that corner stone in Holborn Row -which afforded him a full view of the house whence he had just been -ignominiously dismissed, turned and shook a menacing fist in its -direction. His body ached, he was smarting in every limb, and he had a -grievance which clamoured loudly for revenge. - -In Paris he had endured, whilst executing his duty, the buffetings and -blows of a crowd of rowdy apprentices; this he had done not from any -deep-rooted attachment to a capricious and exacting mistress, nor from -any very exalted notions of abstract duty, but chiefly for the sake of -the commendations and the rewards which the due fulfilment to Mistress -Peyton's commands would naturally bring in its train. - -The fact that, in order to allay the futile anxieties of a pretty -woman, good Daniel Pye subsequently went in for a somewhat -highly-coloured tale of his adventures was, after all, a venial sin, -and surely the minor transgression which he had committed in delivering -the letter, half an hour later than he should have done, did not call -for such malignant and cruel treatment as his ungrateful mistress had -thought fit to impose upon him. Under a paltry accusation of theft, -which the lady herself must have known was totally unfounded, she had -handed him over to the magistrate for punishment. Convicted of the -charge on the most flimsy evidence, he had been made to stand in the -pillory two hours, and been publicly flogged like some recalcitrant -'prentice, or immoral wench. - -Nay, worse! For Mistress Peyton herself, accompanied by Sir John -Ayloffe, had gone down to Bridewell to see her serving-man whipped, -under the pretence that she wished to see justice properly tempered -with mercy, since she only desired merited chastisement for him and not -wanton cruelty. - -And yet when he, Daniel Pye, was howling at the whipping post like one -possessed, the while a crowd of young jackanapes--among whom were some -of Pye's fellow servants--stood hooting and jeering, Sir John Ayloffe -at Mistress Peyton's special command had ordered that an additional -ten strokes with the lash be dealt him with no lenient hand. And when -Daniel anon stood in the pillory, bruised, sore, every limb in his body -aching with the heavy blows, Sir John had caused baskets full of rotten -eggs and scraps of tainted fish and meat and decayed vegetable to be -distributed among the spectators so that the ribald youngsters might -throw this evil-smelling refuse at the unfortunate man whose sole crime -had been a tiny lie spoken in order to reassure an ungrateful mistress. - -Finally Pye was dismissed from Mistress Peyton's service, despite his -abject entreaties. He was kicked out of the street door by a young -lacquey whom he himself had oft flogged for impertinence and who now -had already assumed the comfortable shoes of office which Daniel had -worn for so long. - -To the last the mistress had persisted in her unfounded and cruel -accusations. To the last she coldly asserted that Daniel had robbed her -of seventy thousand pounds. - -Seventy thousand pounds! By Heaven! Daniel was not aware that such a -vast sum existed in the world, nor if he had stolen it--which of course -he had not--would he have known what to do with all that money! - -No wonder, therefore, that the man felt mentally as well as bodily -sore--nay, that he swore to be revenged on the cruel lady who had so -wantonly wronged him. What form his revenge would take he could not at -first determine, but these were days when it was not over-difficult for -a man to make his petty spite be very uncomfortably felt, provided he -had nothing more to lose and possessed neither conscience nor fear of -ulterior punishment. - -Now Daniel Pye, we know, had no overwhelming regard for truth; as to -punishment, by the Lord, he had had all the punishment that any menial -could possibly receive. He could sink no lower in the hierarchy of -respectable domesticity; he had nothing more to lose, nothing more to -gain. A serving-man who had been publicly flogged for theft was an -outcast as far as gentlemen's houses were concerned. All the service -that a branded thief might obtain in future would be in mean taverns or -places of doubtful reputation where the master could not afford to be -over-particular in the choice of his henchmen. - -Pye had indeed shaken a menacing fist at the house in Holborn Row. -Though he had not thought out the exact form which his revenge might -take, he knew by instinct in what quarter to seek for guidance in this -desire. - -His steps led him almost mechanically in the direction of Whitefriars. -When he himself was still a respectable lacquey; he would have scorned -to set foot in this unhallowed spot where cheats, liars and other -reprobates rubbed shoulders with the wastrels of aristocratic descent -who had sought sanctuary here against their creditors. - -In a corner of the narrow street, and in what had once been the -refectory of white-robed monks, there now stood a tavern of evil -fame--one or two low-raftered rooms, wherein light and air penetrated -in such minute particles that these had not the power to drive away the -heavy fumes of alcohol, of rank tobacco, of vice and of licentiousness -which filled every corner of this dark and squalid spot. - -Here the informer, the perjurer, the cheat, held his court unmolested, -here the debtor was free from pursuit, and the highway robber safe from -the arm of the law. - -Whitefriars was sanctuary! Oh, the mockery of the word! For it was the -brawlers and the bullies, the termagants and hags that inhabited these -once holy and consecrated precincts, who enforced this self-ordained -law of sanctuary. Neither townguard nor soldiery would dare to enter -the unhallowed neighbourhood save in great numerical strength, and -even then the flails of the lawless fraternity, the bludgeons of the -men and stew-pans and spits of the women oft gained a victory over the -musketeers. - -To this spot now Daniel Pye unhesitatingly turned his footsteps. The -servant kicked out of house for theft, the henchman who had been -flogged and had stood in the pillory, naturally drifted towards those -who like himself were at war with law and order, who had quarrelled -with justice or were nursing a grievance. - -It was then late in the afternoon. Outside the beautiful May sun was -trying to smile on the grimy city, on all that man had put up in order -to pollute God's pure earth: the evil-smelling, narrow streets, the -pavements oozing with slimy, slippery mud, the rickety, tumble-down -houses covered with dirt and stains. All this the sun had kissed and -touched gently with warmth and promise of spring, but into that corner -of Whitefriars where Daniel Pye now stood, it had not attempted to -penetrate. - -Overhead the protruding gables right and left of the street almost met, -obscuring all save a very narrow strip of sky. Underfoot the slimy mud, -fed by innumerable overflowing gutters, hardly gave a foothold to the -passerby. - -But the door of the brothel stood invitingly open. Daniel Pye walked in -unchallenged; scarce a head was turned or a glance raised to appraise -the newcomer. He looked sulky and unkempt, his clothes were soiled and -tattered after the painful halt in the pillory. In fact he looked what -he was--a rebel against society like unto themselves. - -Men sat in groups conversing in whispers and drinking deeply out -of pewter mugs. One of these groups, more compact than the others, -occupied the centre of the room. In the midst of it a man with thin, -long, yellow hair straggling round a high forehead, his thin shanks -encased in undarned worsted stockings, his stooping shoulders covered -by a surcoat of sad-coloured grogram, seemed to hold a kind of court. - -Daniel slouched toward that group; the man in the sad-coloured coat -raised a pair of pale, watery eyes to him, and no doubt recognising by -that subtle instinct peculiar to the great army of blackguards, that -here was a kindred spirit, he made way for the stranger so that the -latter might sit on the bench beside him. - -After a very little while Pye found himself quite at home in that -low-raftered room, wherein the air surfeited with evil-smelling fumes -was less foul than the sentiments, the lies, the blasphemies that were -freely emitted here. - -The group of whom Mistress Peyton's ex-henchman had now become a -unit, and over which presided the lanky-haired, pale-eyed youth, -consisted of men who had neither the enthusiasm of their own villainy -nor the courage of their own crimes; they were the spies that worked -in the dark, the informers who struck unseen. False oaths, perjured -information, lying accusations were their special trade. It did not -take Daniel Pye very long to learn its secrets. - -The man with the yellow hair was called Oates. He had once been a -priest, now he was a renegade, a sacrilegious liar, and maker of false -oaths. Close to him sat another man, outwardly very different to look -at, for he was stout and florid, and his eyes were bleary, but the -perversion of the soul within was equal in these two men. Oates and -Tongue! What a world of infamy do their very names evoke! They were the -leaders of this band of false informers who lived and throve by this -infamous trade. Oates soon made a fortune by those very schemes which -he propounded to his henchmen on this memorable day when Daniel Pye -drifted into their midst. - -The East Anglian peasant torn from his primitive home amongst the -wheatfields of Norfolk, transplanted into the vitiated atmosphere of -the great city, there to learn the abject lessons which the service -of a capricious woman and the bribes of her courtiers do so readily -teach to a grasping nature, now fell a ready slave to the insidious -suggestions of these perjurers. Pye at first had listened with half an -ear. His thoughts were still centred on vengeance and on his own aches -and pains, and the denunciations against Papists which was the chief -subject of discussion between Oates and his audience seemed to him of -puerile significance. - -But the eye of the other, of him with the florid complexion, was -constantly fixed on Daniel Pye. Gradually he drew the latter into -conversation. A vague question here, a suggestion there, and the whole -history of that day's bitter wrongs was soon poured into overwilling -ears: the accusation of theft, the whipping post, the pillory. - -Pye felt no shame in retailing these humiliating woes to a stranger. -Ever since he had been kicked out of the house by that insolent -subordinate he had longed to tell the tale to some one. Truly he would -have gone raving mad with compressed rage if he had had to go silently -to bed. The stranger was a sympathetic listener: - -"Strike me! but 'tis a damnable tale," he said, "misdeeds that cry -loudly for revenge. Cannot you, friend, be even with a woman who hath -treated you so ill?" - -"How can I?" growled Pye, moodily. "A woman! She is rich, too, and hath -many friends--" - -"Well-favoured, too, mayhap," suggested the other. - -"Ay, she's counted pretty--" - -"And her friends are mostly gentlemen, I imagine." - -"Mostly," replied Daniel impatiently, for he liked not this digression -from the all-absorbing topic of his own woes. - -Tongue said nothing more for the present, but anon he called for mulled -ale, and made Pye draw nearer to the table and partake largely of his -lavishness. - -The ale had been strengthened with raw alcohol, and made heady with -steaming and the admixture of spices. It had special properties--as -all blackguards in search of victims or confederates well knew--of -loosening tongues and addling feeble minds. - -Daniel Pye had had no desire to be reticent. He was already over-ready -to talk. But the spirituous ale which soon got into his head killed -that instinctive native suspicion in him, which in more sober moments -would have caused him to look askance at the easy familiarity of his -newly-found friend. - -Pye was quite unaware of the fact that Tongue was really questioning -him very closely, and that he himself gave ready answer to every -question. Within half an hour, he had told the other all that there -was to know about Mistress Peyton and her household, but still Master -Tongue was disappointing in his offers of advice. Daniel was under -the impression that the man with the florid face would help him to be -revenged on his spiteful mistress, and yet time went on and Daniel had -told his story over and over again in every detail and yet nothing had -been suggested that sounded satisfactory. - -He wanted to dwell on his troubles, those final ten lashes specially -ordered, the rotten eggs thrown at him one by one by that damnable -little scullion whom he himself had so often thrashed. Yet Master -Tongue would no longer dwell on these interesting facts, but always -dragged the conversation back to Mistress Peyton's household, or to the -gentlemen who formed her court. - -"Surely, friend," he said somewhat impatiently at last, "you must have -known some of these gentlemen quite intimately. If as you say your -mistress was a noted beauty, she must have had many admirers, some more -favoured than others--some of these must have been Papists. The Duke of -Norfolk now--did he come to see your lady?" - -"No," replied Daniel Pye, sulkily. "But just as that rascally scullion -hit me in the eye--" - -"Never mind about that now," interrupted the other. "Try and tell me -the names of those gentlemen who most often visited this Mistress Julia -Peyton." - -"There was Sir John Ayloffe--" - -"He is no Papist--who else?" - -"Sir Anthony Wykeham--" - -"Oh!" said Tongue eagerly. "Did he come often?" - -"No. Only once. But as I was telling you, there was a youngster in that -crowd--" - -But the other again broke in impatiently: - -"You only saw Sir Anthony Wykeham once? When was that?" - -"He came with my lord of Stowmaries." - -"My lord Stowmaries? You know my lord Stowmaries? Did he come often?" - -"Every day nearly. Mistress Peyton is like to marry him, now that he's -rid of his first wife." - -To Daniel Pye's utter astonishment, this simple fact--which he himself -considered of very minor interest in comparison with the story of his -own troubles--seemed to delight his newly-found friend. - -Master Tongue jumped up with every sign of eager excitement. - -"You knew my lord Stowmaries?" he reiterated insistently. "You knew him -well?" - -Then as Pye, somewhat bewildered, assented, he ejaculated: - -"By G--d! the best man we could ever have hit upon, under the -circumstances." - -He now slipped his hand confidentially under Pye's arm, forcing him -to rise, then he dragged him away from the group, and into a distant -corner of the room. - -"Friend," he whispered eagerly, "let me tell you that you are in luck -to-day. You want your revenge; you shall have it, and much more yet -to boot, and your spiteful mistress will yet have cause to rue the day -when she turned you out of doors. Listen to me, man! Are you desirous -of securing a good competence as well as of being even with her who had -you whipped and pilloried?" - -"Ay!" replied Daniel Pye with a fervour which was too deep for a longer -flow of words. - -"Then do you go out of here now and find means to kill time in some -other tavern close by. But at ten of the clock this night return here. -You will find me and my friend Oates, and one or two more of these -gentlemen who have a vast scheme in hand for our own good fortune, -wherein we will ask you to participate. Nay, ask me no more now!" added -the man with the bleary eyes. "It were too long to explain, and there -are several pairs of ears present in this room at this moment who are -not meant to hear all that I say. But I tell you, friend, that if you -be willing, my friend Oates will help you to your revenge, and in -addition there will be at least £30 in your pocket, and the chance of -earning more. Well, what say you?" - -"That I'll come," said Daniel Pye simply. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - Love's wings are overfleet - And like the panther's feet - The feet of Love. - --SWINBURNE. - - -When Mistress Peyton had finally dismissed Daniel Pye from her service, -after having seen him flogged and pilloried, she felt somewhat more at -ease. - -She did not see his gesture of menace, nor would it have perturbed her -much if she had. Her spite against the man had been cruel and petty; -she knew that well enough, yet did not strive to curb it. Daniel Pye's -howls at the whipping post had momentarily served to alleviate the -anxieties which as day succeeded day grew in intensity. - -The recollection of what she had made the man suffer was a solace, even -now when the awful truth had begun to dawn upon her that in striving to -gain too much, she had very likely lost all. - -Rumour was overbusy with Michael Kestyon; his popularity with the -king, my lord Shaftesbury's interest in the long-forgotten peerage -claim, Michael's long conferences with Sir William Jones, the -Attorney-General, who was said to know more about peerages, genealogies -and legitimacies than did His Majesty's heralds and poursuivants -themselves. - -On Sir William's report would the king ultimately base his decision -as to Michael Kestyon's claim to the title and estates of Stowmaries -and Rivaulx. The matter would not be referred to the Lord's House of -Parliament. It was absolutely one for the Crown to decide, nor were -the noble lords like to go against the king's mandate. - -Already gossips averred that Michael had paid the Attorney-General one -hundred thousand pounds for the report which was ready to be submitted -to the king, and which, needless to say, was entirely in favour of -the claim. It was also said that my lord Stowmaries--financially -somewhat straitened for the moment, through a recent highly-interesting -adventure--was unable to cap his cousin's munificent gift to Sir -William Jones by one more magnificent still. - -All these rumours were quite sufficient forsooth to cause the fair -Julia many an anxious hour and many a sleepless night. Small wonder -that when she thought of Daniel Pye and of that hundred thousand pounds -paid to the Attorney-General, which could not have been forthcoming -if the miserable reprobate had delivered his mistress' letter to M. -Legros in good time, no wonder, then, I say, that her small teeth, -sharp as those of a wildcat, set against each other in an agony of -impotent rage. She would have liked to have got hold of her serving-man -again, to have had him flogged again and again, ay, and to have had him -deprived of his right hand for his disobedience and his lies. - -The "might-have-beens" were becoming positive torture to the beautiful -Julia; and my lord Stowmaries had not yet come home. He had gone -to Rome for the dispensation, which he told her in an ardent and -passionate missive, he had at last obtained. Julia laughed, a cruel, -callous, bitter laugh when she read that letter. Of a truth the man -must be mad who could for a moment think that she would wed him in -poverty and obscurity, just as readily as she would in riches. - -Cousin John did his best to console her. He vowed that rumour lied, -that Michael was spending his money in a vain endeavour to retain his -popularity with the king, in which he was rapidly failing, and that -no sensible-minded person did believe that His Majesty would uphold -the preposterous claims of a sworn adventurer, wastrel and soldier of -fortune, against so elegant a gentleman as was my lord of Stowmaries. - -After one of these visits from Cousin John, Mistress Julia always felt -temporarily relieved of her anxiety. She had thought it best for the -moment to keep aloof from the society of London; she was nowhere to -be seen in public, not even at the playhouses where she had once been -the cynosure of all eyes. She wanted to see her future fully assured -before she again encountered the admiring glances of the men, or the -oft ill-natured comments of the women. - -When at last Lord Stowmaries, back from his journey to Rome, was -once more at her feet, glowing with loving ardour, triumphant in his -success, Mistress Peyton remained cold and unresponsive. He did not -notice this, for he was full of projects and happy that the path which -led him to her arms had at last been made quite clear. - -"Madly as I longed for your sweet presence, my best beloved," he said -whilst he covered her little hands with kisses, "I would not return -until I knew that I was free--quite free to place mine all, my name, -my fortune at your feet. I journeyed to Rome, dear heart, immediately -after the esclandre in Paris. I paid Michael his due, then flew to His -Holiness. When I returned homewards I was eager to know how the scandal -had spread. Nay, there is no fear now that the tailor will strive to -interfere with me. There are various rumours current about the wench, -one of them being that she will go to a nunnery, the other, which -gains far more credence, being that King Louis, vastly interested -in her adventure hath cast eyes of admiration on her and that Mme. -de Montespan is deadly jealous. Be that as it may, Monseigneur the -Archbishop of Paris is now wholly on my side. He gave me letters to His -Holiness, whom I saw in Rome." - -"And what said His Holiness, the Pope?" queried Julia, feigning -eagerness which she was far from feeling. - -"He has granted me religious dispensation to contract a fresh marriage, -provided the courts of England do dissolve my present bonds, which is a -foregone conclusion," said the young man triumphantly. "My man of law -tells me that it will be but a matter of a few weeks, and that the case -will be decided as soon as heard, provided the tailor's wench doth not -defend it, which under the circumstances she is not like to do. I am -free, dear heart, free to marry you as soon as you will consent." - -Then, as she did not reply, he added reproachfully: - -"You are silent, my Julia; will you not tell me that you are glad?" - -She made no effort to smile. - -"Indeed, my lord, I am glad," she said calmly, "but I would not have -you hasten matters too much." - -"Why not? To me every day, every hour that separates me from you, seems -like weary cycles of dull and deadly years. Methinks that if you would -but allow me to proclaim you to the whole world as my future countess, -I could wait more patiently then." - -"Not yet, my lord, not yet," she said with a slight show of petulance. - -"Why not?" he urged. - -"The times are troublous for your co-religionists, my lord," she said -vaguely. - -"Bah! the troubles will not last, and they do not affect me." - -"Are you quite sure of that, my lord? One by one the Papists in the -kingdom fall under the ban of public hatred." - -"We are much maligned, but the king is on our side," interposed -Stowmaries with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. - -"Mayhap, mayhap," she rejoined impatiently. "But nevertheless, the -Papists are in bad odour. There is talk that the Duke of York will soon -be sent abroad. The outcry in London is loud against what is called a -Papist intrigue to sell England to France and to place her people under -the yoke of Rome." - -"What hath all that to do with our love, dear heart?" - -"Everything," she said, angry with him for being so obtuse, not liking -yet to show him her hand, the cruel hand which would dismiss him -without compunction, were his fortunes on the wane. "You forget that -by disgracing the tailor's wench, you have made Michael Kestyon, the -claimant to your title, passing rich." - -"Bah! He hath spent half that substance already, so 'tis said. The king -soon tires of his friends, and his affections are an expensive luxury -to keep." - -"Rumour goes on to say that Michael Kestyon hath paid the -Attorney-General one hundred thousand pounds that he may send a -favourable report of his case to the king," asserted Mistress Peyton, -relentlessly, almost spitefully. - -Lord Stowmaries made no direct reply. Truth to tell, he thought his -fair Julia's anxieties futile, but at the same time, with unvarying -optimism and self-sufficiency, he had attributed these anxieties on his -behalf to her great love for him. Everything so far had gone well with -him; for years now his every wish in life had been gratified; even the -child-marriage, that great obstacle to the desires of his heart, had -been swept away from before his path, leaving it clear and broad, to -lead him straight to gratification and to happiness. - -With characteristic vanity he would not see that Julia, who had been -all eagerness and ardour awhile ago, had suddenly become cold and -well-nigh hostile. In every word which she uttered, in every inflection -of her voice--even when it became petulant and spiteful--he heard but -the echo of the overmastering emotions of a tender heart, whose sole -object, himself, was in imaginary peril. - -He loved her all the better for her fears, though he felt none himself. -He knew quite well that a wave of fanatical hatred against the Roman -Catholics was passing over Puritan England; that the nation tired of a -king's treachery had turned in deadly bitterness against those whom it -held responsible for the constitutional faithlessness of a Stuart. - -But Titus Oates had not yet come forward with his lies, and Lord -Stowmaries and his co-religionists were the last to foresee that -the abject terror and malignant intolerance of the whole nation -were already being directed against them, and that these would anon -culminate in those shameful accusations, mock trials and scandalous -verdicts which have remained to this day a dark and ineradicable blot -on England's integrity and on her sense of justice. - -We must not suppose for a moment that Mistress Peyton foresaw the ugly -black cloud which was looming on the not very distant horizon. Her -intuition in political matters only went so far as these affected her -own prospects. But no one who lived in London in this year of grace -could help but see that Papists were held in abhorrence and in fear. -The terms of the treaty of Dover had, despite strenuous efforts on -the part of my lords Clifford and Arlington, become public property. -England, with eyes rendered unseeing by abject fear, saw herself the -minion of France, the slave of the Papacy. It only needed the tiny -spark to kindle these smouldering ashes into raging flames. - -Mistress Peyton, keenly alive to her own interests, did not wish to tie -her future irrevocably to a man who within the next few months might -find himself divested of title and wealth and mayhap in the dock for -treason. Therefore, all Stowmaries' ardent entreaties received but -little response. - -"There is time and to spare," was all the hope which the fair beauty -chose to give to her adorer; "as you say, this wave of anti-Romanism -will pass away; Michael Kestyon will dissipate his newly-acquired -wealth in riotous living; then you, my lord, will be free to think -once more of marriage. I' faith the bonds are scarce broken yet; your -nullity suit, my lord, hath not even been tried; the tailor may prove -more obstinate than you think, and give you trouble yet. On my soul, -'twill be better to wait till all anxiety is removed from you, until -Michael Kestyon is sunk back in obscurity and the tailor's baggage hid -in a nunnery. Then, my lord, you may claim my promise--but not before." - -My lord of Stowmaries had perforce to be satisfied for the present, -though he chafed under this further period of incertitude. But the -fair Julia would grant him no more for the present, although after her -cold declaration that she herself would not be tied by a promise, she -did exact from him a holy and solemn pledge that he considered himself -bound to her irrevocably and whatever might betide, so help him God. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - - They said that love would die when Hope was gone - And Love mourned long, and sorrowed after Hope; - At last she sought out Memory and they trod - The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope, - And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears. - --TENNYSON. - - -M. Legros walked out backwards from the august presence of Monseigneur -the Archbishop of Paris with head reverently bent to receive the -benediction not altogether ungraciously given. - -Through the close ranks of gorgeously attired, liveried servants he -passed, then across the courtyard and through the gilded gates out into -the street. - -Then only would his sense of what was due to Monseigneur allow him to -give vent to his feelings. He sighed and shook his head and muttered -vague words of despondency. - -Of a truth how different had been this interview to-day to that other -one a brief while ago, when with light elastic step, good M. Legros had -left Monseigneur's presence with his heart full of elation, of triumph -and of hope. - -It had been November then; the kindly tailor remembered how cold had -been the night, with that penetrating drizzle which sought out the very -marrow of the unfortunate pedestrian who happened to be abroad. But M. -Legros had not heeded the cold or the wet then, his heart had been warm -with the joyful news which he was about to bring into his home. Now -the warm glow of a late September sun was in the air; not far away in -the gardens of the Queen Mother's palace the last roses of summer were -throwing their dying fragrance into the air even as far as the dismal -streets which Legros traversed, oh, with such a heavy heart! - -Indeed, he paid no heed to the scent of the flowers, the last tender -calls of thrush and blackbird which came from the heavy bouquets of -the Luxembourg, and he almost shivered despite the warmth of this late -summer's afternoon. Monseigneur had not been encouraging; and even the -tailor's philosophical temperament had shown signs of inward rebellion -at the cold manner in which the Archbishop had received his just -plaint. Wherein had he sinned, either he or his wife? They had been -deceived, nothing more. Would not any one else have been deceived in -just the same way, by the soft words and grand manner of that splendid -blackguard? - -And Rose Marie, the innocent lamb? Was it not a sin in itself even to -suggest that she had been to blame? Yet Monseigneur would not listen, -despite good M. Legros' entreaties. "You should have guarded your -daughter's honour more carefully," His Greatness had said very severely. - -Prayers for help had been of no avail. - -"I cannot help you now," Monseigneur had reiterated with marked -impatience; "the matter rests with your daughter's husband. My lord of -Stowmaries is the gravely-injured husband; he may choose to forgive -and forget, he may take his erring wife back to his heart and home, -but I cannot interfere; the Holy Church would not enforce her decree -under such circumstances. It would be cruel and unjust. If the law of -England will grant the suit of nullity, the Holy Father will not--nay, -he cannot, object. My lord of Stowmaries hath the right to his freedom -now, an he choose." - -"But my child is as pure and as innocent as the Holy Virgin herself," -M. Legros had protested with all the strength of his poor broken heart; -"will not the Church protect the innocent, rather than the guilty? My -lord of Stowmaries himself was a party to the infamous trick which--" - -"Into this discussion I cannot enter with you, sirrah!" His Greatness -had interrupted with overwhelming severity. "The matter is one which -doth not concern the Church. What doth concern her is that my lord of -Stowmaries, who is a devout Catholic, hath asked for leave to appeal to -the civil courts of his country for a dissolution of his marriage with -a woman who no longer bears a spotless reputation. This leave under the -unfortunate circumstances and the undoubted publicity of the scandal -around your daughter's fame, the Holy Father hath decided to grant. I -can do nothing in the matter." - -"Your Greatness, knowing the real facts of the case--" hazarded the -timid man rendered bold by the excess of his sorrow. - -"I only know the facts of the case, such as I see them," interrupted -the Archbishop haughtily, "but since you are so sure of your daughter's -innocence, go and persuade my lord of Stowmaries to view it in the -same light as you do. Transcendent virtue," added Monseigneur, with a -scarce perceptible curl of his thin lips, "is sure to triumph over base -calumny. I promise you that I will do nothing to fan the flames of my -lord's wrath. My attitude will be strictly neutral. Go, seek out Lord -Stowmaries. Let your daughter make a personal appeal. My blessing go -with you." - -M. Legros was dismissed. It had been worse than useless now to try and -force a prolongation of the interview. Monseigneur's indifference might -turn at any moment to active opposition. The tailor had made discreet -if lavish offers of money--alms or endowments; he would have given -his entire fortune to see Rose Marie righted. But either my lord of -Stowmaries had forestalled him, or the matter had become one of graver -moment beyond the powers of bribery; certain it is that Monseigneur had -paid no heed to vague suggestions and had severely repressed any more -decided offers. - -No wonder, therefore, that despair lay like a heavy weight on the -worthy tailor's heart, as he made his way slowly along the muddy bank -of the river, crossed the Pont Neuf and finally turned in the direction -of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie. - -Now as then, a girlish hand opened the door for him, in response to -his knock; now as then a pair of confiding arms were thrown around his -neck. But it was a sigh which escaped his throat, and to the sigh there -was no response from those girlish lips turned grave in sorrow. - -Maman, with unvarying optimism, insisted on hearing a full account of -the interview with Monseigneur; she weighed every sentence which was -faithfully reported to her, queried indefatigably and commented with -somewhat forced cheerfulness on what she heard. - -Rose Marie sat--silent and absorbed--at her father's knee. She had -never harboured any hopes from this long-projected audience; the result -therefore in no way disappointed her. - -Not even maman knew what went on in the girl's thoughts, nor how -complete and sudden had been the transformation from the child into -the woman. Rose Marie, when she returned home with her father on -that never-to-be-forgotten night in April, had gone to bed tired and -submissive. When she rose the next morning at her accustomed hour she -took up the threads of her former uneventful life, just as if they had -never been snapped by that strong and treacherous hand. - -She studied her music, and delved deeply into her books, she read aloud -to her father out of holy books, and oft sang to him whilst playing -on the harpsichord. M. and Mme. Legros oft wondered exactly how much -she felt; for they loved her far too dearly to be deceived by these -attempts at indifference. - -Something of Rose Marie's girlishness had gone from her, never again to -return, something of the bird-like quality of her voice, something of -the deer-like spring of her step. The blue eyes were as clear as ever, -the mouth as perfectly curved, but across the brow lay--all unseen save -to doting eyes--the ineradicable impress of a bitter sorrow. - -But the child never spoke of those three weeks that were past, nor was -Michael's name ever mentioned within the walls of the old house in the -Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie. "Milor" had come and stolen the girl's heart -and happiness, wrecked the brightness of a home, and sown disgrace and -shame. And yet to all these three people who should so ardently have -hated him, his name seemed to have become through the intensity of that -grief which he had caused, almost sacred in the magnitude of his sin. - -It was as, when to a fanatic, the name of Lucifer becomes as -unspeakable as that of God. - -The news that the real lord of Stowmaries had appealed to His -Holiness for leave to contract a fresh marriage had not been long in -reaching the tailor's house. For the past five months now M. Legros -had exhausted every means of persuasion and of bribery to obtain an -audience of Monseigneur. - -The Archbishop had been overbusy with grave affairs of state, -so the wretched man was invariably told whenever he tried--most -respectfully--to press his claim for an early audience. It was only -after the terrible news which came direct from Rome that at last -Monseigneur consented to see the stricken father. - -Now that interview was over--on which so many feeble hopes had of a -truth been built--His Greatness had been haughty and severe, and the -only consolation which he had deigned to offer was advice which was -indeed very hard to follow. - -At the first suggestion, somewhat hesitatingly put forward by Papa -Legros to his daughter, she rose up in revolt. - -"Make appeal to my lord Stowmaries?" she said indignantly. "Never. How -could Monseigneur suggest such a course?" - -Papa was silent, and even maman sighed and shook her head. Rose Marie -had gone to the window, and her cheeks aflame now, she was staring out -into the street. - -"Are we beggars," she murmured, proudly defiant, "that we should be -bidden to sue for grace?" - -From where she sat, could her vision but have pierced through the -forest of houses, and thence through the sunlit distance, she might -have beheld the forest of Cluny, and that silent pool whereon the water -lilies reared their stately heads. Here she had sat, just by this same -window, when with bitter words--cruel in that irresistible appeal which -they made to her heart--he had told her about that pool, the lilies -stained with mud, the slimy weeds that spread and girt the graceful -stems, the ineradicable smirch of contact with the infamies of this -world. - -Even now his captivating voice seemed to ring in her ears. The blaze of -wrath fled from her cheeks, and the terrible, awful pain gripped her -heart which she knew would never find solace whilst she lived. - -At the other end of the room her parents were conversing on the -ever-present topic. - -Maman's hitherto indomitable optimism was at last giving way. She -had held up bravely throughout these five weary months of waiting, -hoping--almost against hope, sometimes--that everything would come -right in one audience with Monseigneur. - -With unvarying confidence she waited for the summons for Papa Legros -to appear before His Greatness; once the Archbishop heard the truth he -would soon put the matter to rights, and His Holiness himself would see -that the child was righted in the end. - -But now the long-looked-for audience had taken place, and it was no -longer any use to disguise the fact that the last glimmer of hope had -flickered out behind the gilded gates of Monseigneur's palace. - -Maman, too, had felt indignant when first she heard the Archbishop's -callous advice to Papa Legros. Her mother's heart rebelled at the very -thought of seeing her child a suppliant; she would not add fuel to the -flames of outraged pride by showing what she thought on the matter, but -when Rose Marie rose in revolt with the indignant outcry of "Are we -beggars?" she, the mother, quietly went up to her stewpot and kept her -own counsels to herself, the while she stirred the soup. - -Anon when the first wave of angry rebellion had subsided, when Rose -Marie sat quiescent by the open window, Maman Legros put down her -wooden spoon and went up to her husband, putting her heavy, rough hand -on his shoulder, with a motherly gesture of supreme consolation. - -"Perhaps Monseigneur is right, Armand," she said with her own -indomitable philosophy; "why not make appeal to Lord Stowmaries, he may -not be a bad man after all." - -"You have heard what the child said, Mélanie," replied M. Legros sadly. -"Are we beggars that we should be bidden to sue?" - -A great sob rose in Rose Marie's throat. It was the sorrow, the -humiliation of these two dearly-loved folk that was so terrible to -bear. They had been stricken in what they held most dear, in their -integrity and in their child. Self-reproach, too, played no small part -in their grief, and they had not even a memory on which to dwell. - -She--Rose Marie--had had her glorious three weeks of perfect happiness, -before she had known that the man she loved was a liar and a cheat. - -For the sake of those few brief days of unalloyed joy, because of the -memory of that unclouded happiness, she had endured such an intensity -of pain, that at times she felt--nay! hoped that death or madness -would end the agony. But she had been happy! Remembrance brought an -overwhelming shame, but she had been happy! - -Sometimes she thought that her whole soul must have become perverted, -her sense of virtue warped, for bitter as was the pain of it all, she -dwelt oft and oft in her mind on those three exquisite weeks of perfect -happiness. - -Her heart, starved and aching, now lived on that memory. Her ears -seemed to catch again the timbre of his voice vibrating with passion, -her eyes rendered dull and heavy with all the unshed tears, seemed, in -closing, to see him there, standing near her with his arms held ready -to enfold her, and that burning, ardent look in his dark eyes which -had shown her visions of an earthly heaven, such as she had never -dreamed before. - -Was it wicked to dwell on it all? Sinful, mayhap!--and surely not -chaste, for he had lied to her when he said-- - -And then an insidious spirit voice would interrupt this train of -thought and whisper in her ear: "No, he did not lie when he said that -he loved thee, Rose Marie!" and the girl--just a suffering woman -now--would in response feel such an agonizing sense of pain that she -cried to God--to the blessed, suffering Lord--to take her away out of -this unbearable misery. - -But they--the dear old folk--had no such bitter-sweet memories on -which to dwell, nothing but blank, dull sorrow, with no longer now any -hope of seeing the load lifted. It would grow heavier and heavier as -the years went by. Rose Marie had noticed that the streaks of grey on -maman's smooth hair had become more marked of late, and Papa Legros -seldom rose from a chair now without leaning heavily on his stick, with -one hand, and on the arm of the chair with the other. - -Yet maman still strove to be cheerful, even now she said with that new -touch of philosophy in her which seemed to have taken the place of her -former optimism: - -"Ah, well, Armand! if the child will not go, we cannot force her, -poor lamb! but 'tis not saying that we are beggars and I cannot help -thinking that Monseigneur may be right in his advice after all." - -Then as Papa Legros sighed and shook his head, staring in mute -depression straight out before him, Rose Marie rose from the window -seat and came close to where her parents sat. Kneeling beside the kind -father, whose every sigh cut into her heart, looking up at those -streaks of grey in her mother's smooth hair, she said simply: - -"We are beggars, Father, Mother dear, beggared of happiness, of joy, of -pride. Father, we'll to England when you will. We'll seek out my lord -of Stowmaries and make appeal to him, that he may restore to us that -which in wantonness he hath taken away." - -"The child is right, Armand," said maman, and like a true phoenix from -out the flames, her optimism rose triumphant: - -"I do verily believe," she said cheerfully, the while she -surreptitiously wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, "I do -verily believe that the young man when he sees our Rose Marie will -repent him of his folly and will be joyful to take her to his heart." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - - Brute worshippers or wielders of the rod - Most murderous even of all that call thee God! - Most treacherous even of all that called thee Lord! - --SWINBURNE. - - -No one--not even her parents--knew what the proposed journey cost -the girl in bitter sense of shame. She had, in order to consent to -this pilgrimage of humiliation, to put aside all thoughts of her -own feelings in the matter. She as a sentient, thinking, suffering -woman must for awhile cease to be; her individuality must sink into -nothingness, her pride, alas, must be broken on the wheel of her filial -affection, crushed out of all desire for rebellion. - -If the dear folk thought that a personal appeal to Lord Stowmaries was -a possible loophole out of the present abyss of sorrow and disgrace, -then she--Rose Marie--would lend herself to that appeal: and that not -as a martyr, a saint going to the rack, but as readily, as cheerfully, -as if the meeting with the man who had despised and discarded her, who -had sold her to another man, as if seeing him face to face was at least -a matter of indifference to her. - -Once having made up her mind to the sacrifice, Rose Marie would not -allow herself to think of it. She set to her little preparations for -the journey with well-feigned eagerness. Even maman was at times -deceived, for the child would sing whilst she put a few stitches to the -clothes which she was to take away. - -Only when she was quite alone, or lying awake in the narrow little bed -in the wall, would that sinful and rebellious pride rise up in arms, -and Rose Marie would almost have to cling to the woodwork of her bed -lest she found herself jumping up and rushing to her parents with a -frantic cry of revolt: "I cannot go! I cannot do it!" - -One word of protest from her even at this eleventh hour, and the -journey would have been abandoned. But she made no protest, and the day -for the voyage was fixed. - -It was some two or three days before the projected departure that M. -Legros, going down at his accustomed hour, to see the last of his -'prentices and cutters ere they left the workshop, found that two -strangers were waiting to speak with him. - -One of them was not altogether a stranger, for Papa Legros -looking--with the keen eyes of a successful business man--on the -unkempt and slouchy figure that stood expectantly in the doorway soon -made up his mind that he had seen the face before. A second look -decided the point, and brought back with a sharp pang the bitter memory -of that gay wedding festivity which the advent of this same stranger, -then the bearer of a fateful letter, had so rudely interrupted. - -Daniel Pye and his companion, a meek-faced young man who looked like -a scholar very much out at elbows, were kept humbly standing in the -doorway, the while the 'prentices filed out past them, on the close of -the working-day. We may assume that these rowdy youngsters did not make -the two men's halt there any too pleasant for them. But Pye had learnt -patience in the past two months, ever since he had ceased to be the -dreaded majordomo in a pretty woman's household. He did not understand -the gibes aimed at him by the impertinent crowd, and the pin-pricks, -covert pinches and other physical inconveniences to which he was -subjected left him passably indifferent. - -As for the young student who accompanied him, he certainly looked well -accustomed to buffetings from whatever quarter these might descend upon -him. - -The two men stood stolidly still, twirling their soft felt hats in -their hands, never moving from the spot where they had been told to -wait until such time as Maitre Legros might condescend to speak with -them. Maitre Legros for the nonce was engaged in counting out his -'prentices as they filed past him and then out by the door, lest one -of them bent on nocturnal mischief remained behind in safe concealment -until time was ripe for pranks. After the 'prentices, the cutters and -fitters filed out--more soberly for they were older men, but every man -as he passed threw a curious look at the visitors, more especially at -the shaggy, grimy face of Daniel Pye. - -When the last of the crowd of workers had passed out into the street, -Papa Legros turned to his foreman cutter, who had introduced the -strangers into the shop. - -"What do these men want?" he asked. "Have they told you their business, -Master Duval?" - -"No, M'sieu," replied the foreman, "one of them does not understand -French, the other one only seems to be here as interpreter. The one -with the shaggy beard is the principal, he asked for M. Legros with -great insistence and as he has been here before--" - -"Ah!--You do recognize him then?" - -"I have seen his face before, M'sieu--I'd take my oath on that--though -when that was I could not say." - -"Bien, my good Duval, I'll speak to the stranger anon," rejoined M. -Legros. "I shall not require you any more to-day. You may go now. I'll -lock the back doors." - -Whilst Duval obeyed, Legros studied the face of his visitor very -attentively. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the same man who -had brought him that fateful letter on Rose Marie's wedding day, just -an hour after the child had gone away with that cruel and treacherous -blackguard. Undoubtedly the face was very much altered; it had been -trim and clean-shaved before, now an unkempt beard hid the mouth -and jaw. The eyes, too, looked more sunken, the nose and forehead -more pinched, and a shifty, furtive expression replaced the former -obsequious manner peculiar to the well-drilled lacquey. - -Obviously this man was the principal in this new affair, and at a curt -word from M. Legros he came forward into the room with a certain air of -sulky defiance, the while his companion followed meekly in the rear. - -Papa Legros would have not owned to it for worlds, but as a matter of -fact his heart was throbbing with anxiety. Instinctively he looked -on the shaggy figure of Daniel Pye as on a bird of ill-omen. It was -through the agency of those same grimy hands that the first terrible -blow of a crushing misfortune had fallen on the tailor and his family. -What other misery would this unwelcome visitor bring in his train? - -"You have business with me, my masters?" asked M. Legros at last. He -settled himself down resolutely in the high-backed chair, which he -always used when talking to his inferiors--but he left the two men -standing before him; there were no other chairs in the room. - -Daniel Pye had grunted a surly assent. - -"And of what nature is that business?" continued M. Legros, keeping up -an air of haughty indifference. - -"It is of a private nature, Master," here interposed the younger of -the two men. He was evidently impressed by the great tailor's august -condescension and spoke timidly with a slight impediment in his speech. - -"Then you may speak of it freely," said M. Legros. "No one can overhear -you. All my men have gone. So I pray you be brief. My time is much -occupied, and I have none to waste." - -The young student no doubt would have hemmed and hawed very -hesitatingly for some little while to come. But Daniel Pye, moody and -impatient, gave him a vigorous nudge in the ribs. - -"Go it, Master Clerk," he said gruffly in English. "By G--d, man, I -am not paying you to toady to this old fool, but to state my business -clearly before him. Let me tell you that that business will be highly -welcomed in this house, so there is no cause for this damnable shaking -of your body, as if you were afraid." - -"What does your friend say to you, sirrah?" asked the tailor -peremptorily, for he did not like this conversation carried on in a -language which he did not understand. - -"He says, my Master," replied the clerk, "that I must speak up boldly, -for his business will be pleasing to your graciousness. I am but the -poor, ill-paid interpreter, who--" - -"Then I pray you interpret both boldly and briefly," interposed M. -Legros impatiently. "What is your friend's business? Out with it, -quick, before I have you both kicked out of this door." - -The clerk did not think it necessary to translate the tailor's last -words into English. - -"The business concerns my lord the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx," he -began. - -"Then 'tis none of mine," retorted the tailor coldly. - -"Ay, but of a truth it is, good Master," rejoined the other more -boldly, "and my friend here, Master Daniel Pye, by name, a worthy and -independent Englishman, hath journeyed all the way from London to speak -with you on this business. The noble Earl of Stowmaries hath greatly -wronged you, sir, and your family. You have suffered great humiliation -at his hands. Your daughter through his neglect is neither wife nor -maid--" - -"And you, sirrah, will be neither alive nor dead, but near to both -estates, an you do not hold your tongue," said M. Legros bringing an -angry fist crashing down on the arm of his chair. "Out of my house this -instant!--How dare you speak my daughter's name without my leave, you -dirty paper-scraper, you bundle of quill feathers, you--" - -Good M. Legros was choking with wrath but he did fully intend to put -his threat into execution and to kick these two impertinent rascals out -of his house. Ere he could recover himself, however, the clerk forcibly -egged on by Daniel Pye had interposed quietly but firmly: - -"Nevertheless, sir, it is my duty to be the mouthpiece of my friend who -hath come all this way to tell you that God himself hath taken up your -cause against the great and noble Earl of Stowmaries, whose pride will -soon be laid in the dust, who will become an abject, cringing creature, -dependent mayhap on your bounty for subsistence, dispossessed, -disinherited, nay worse, tried for treason, and hanged, sir, hanged as -a traitor! Is not that a glorious revenge, sir, for the wrongs which he -has done to you?" - -"Nay, and by the Mass, sirrah," said M. Legros who had recovered -sufficiently from his blind wrath to be justly indignant at this -mealy-mouthed harangue, "if you do, value your shoulders and if your -friend cares for his skin, you can have thirty seconds wherein to reach -that door, after which the toe of my boot and the stout stick in -yonder corner shall accelerate your footsteps." - -"Sir," protested the clerk, prompted thereto by Daniel Pye, "my friend -here desires to remind you that he was driven away by blows from your -doors in this like manner just five months ago. Had you given him -more ready access to your august person, the letter which he bore and -which was written by my hand at a kind lady's bidding, would have been -delivered into your hands one hour the earlier, and thus would have -averted a misery which you yourself would now give your life's blood to -undo." - -The words were well chosen. The Huguenot clerk had interpreted Daniel -Pye's promptings in a manner which could not fail to bear impress on -Master Legros' mind. The shaft had been well aimed. It had struck a -vital nerve centre. The tailor, feeling the justice of the reproof, -curbed his wrath. He was silent for a moment or two, while the two men -watched and waited. - -Suddenly the touch of a hand which he loved, roused Master Legros from -his moody incertitude and a girl's voice said with firm decision: - -"These men are right in what they say, Father. There is no harm in -hearing what they have to say. If they bring lying news or empty -scandal 'twill be ample time then to turn them out of doors." - -"You have not heard all their impertinent canting harangues, my jewel." - -"I heard enough to understand that these men have come here to tell you -of some evil which is about to descend on my lord of Stowmaries, my -husband before God. That is so, is it not?" - -And she turned great inquiring eyes on Daniel Pye and on the clerk. - -"That is so, Mademoiselle." - -"My mother and I heard my father's voice raised in anger against you. -She bade me come down to see what was amiss. The matter which concerns -my lord of Stowmaries also concerns me, so I pray you tell my father -all about it in my presence, and have no fear of his wrath, for he will -listen to you for my sake." - -"Then, sirrah, an my daughter desires it, I pray you tell your story!" -rejoined Legros. "But do so briefly; I'll patiently hear of the evil -which hath befallen my lord Stowmaries, but will not listen to any -impertinent comments on his actions past or in the present." - -"Tell them the whole tale just as you did write it out," whispered -Daniel Pye to his interpreter. "Damn you, sir, how much longer will you -be about it!" - -"Then hear me, master tailor, for it began this wise," now said the -clerk with a great effort at composure. "My lord of Stowmaries hath a -kinsman, one named Michael Kestyon, whom you know, and on whose conduct -I am not permitted to make comment. Michael hath for years held--on -grounds which it would take too long now to explain--that he and not -his cousin should own the titles and estates of Stowmaries and Rivaulx. -But hitherto he hath had no money wherewith to press his claim. The law -as administered in England is a vastly expensive affair, my master, and -Michael Kestyon was a poor man, poorer even than I; he was a wastrel -and many called him a dissolute reprobate." - -"Enough of Michael Kestyon," interrupted Legros gruffly. "Have I not -told you to be brief." - -"Michael Kestyon's affairs form part of my tale, Master. You must know -that he is now passing rich. Many and varied are the rumours as to -the provenance of his wealth, and many the comments as to the change -in the man himself. Armed with money Michael Kestyon hath obtained the -ear and attention of the high dignitaries of the law and the favour of -the King himself. The fact hath become of public knowledge that only -His Majesty's signature to a document is needed now to instate Michael -Kestyon in the title and dignities which are declared to be legally -his. My lord of Stowmaries, therefore, is, as you see, no longer -secure in his position and his wealth, and though you may not permit -the humble clerk to make comment on the doings of his betters, yet -Master Daniel Pye hath come all the way from England to bring you this -news, which must be vastly gratifying to you, whom that same lord of -Stowmaries had so wantonly injured." - -Daniel Pye and his mouthpiece both looked at the tailor with marked -assurance now. Of a truth they were quite confident that the Legros -thirsting for revenge would receive the news with every sign of -exultation. But the master tailor was silent and moody, and it was -Mademoiselle who spoke. - -"And is this all the news which you, sir, came all the way from England -to impart to my father?" she asked, addressing Daniel Pye in his mother -tongue. - -"No, not altogether all, Mistress," he replied; "I have better news for -you yet." - -"Anent my lord Stowmaries' troubles?" - -"Ay, something you will be still more glad to hear." - -"What is it?" - -"My lord of Stowmaries is a Papist--or--saving your presence he is a -Catholic, and Catholics are in bad odour in England just now--they are -said to be conspiring to murder the King, and to place the Duke of -York on the throne--to sell England to France, and to place the English -people under the yoke of the Pope of Rome." - -"Hath my lord of Stowmaries thus conspired?" she asked coldly. - -"I think so," replied Daniel Pye. - -"How do you mean? That you think so is no proof that he hath done it." - -"I can soon bring forward the proofs," said Pye with a knowing leer -directed at her from under his shaggy brows, "if you, Mistress, will -help me." - -Rose Marie felt a shudder which was almost one of loathing creeping up -her spine, at sight of the expression in the man's face. - -It told such an infamous tale of base thoughts and desires, of cupidity -and of triumphant revenge, that her every nerve rebelled against -further parleyings with such a villain. - -But there was something more than mere feminine curiosity in her wish -to know something definite of what was really passing in the mind of -Daniel Pye. That shrewd instinct and sound common sense--which is the -inalienable birthright of the French bourgeoisie--told her that the man -would not have undertaken the arduous and costly journey from England -to France unless he had some powerful motive to prompt him thereunto, -or--what was more likely still--some reward to gain. - -The desire to learn the truth of this motive or of this hoped-for gain -remained therefore paramount in her mind, and she did her best not to -give outward expression to her sense of repulsion when Daniel Pye drew -nearer to her in an attempt at confidential familiarity. - -He was far from guessing that his last words had done aught but please -this wench and her father, both of whom had as serious a grievance -against Lord Stowmaries as he himself had against Mistress Peyton. - -It had not taken the dismissed serving-man very long to learn the -lesson of how he could best be revenged on his past mistress. The -easiest way to hit at the ambitious lady was undoubtedly--as Master -Tongue had pointed out to him--by bringing the man she desired to marry -to humiliation and ruin. Michael Kestyon's successful claim to the -peerage of Stowmaries had paved the way for the more complete undoing -of my lord, and Daniel Pye soon knew the lesson by heart which the -informers of Whitefriars had taught him. - -Oates was ready with his lies; he and his confederates had soon -mustered up a goodly array of names of Papist gentlemen against whom -these lies could most easily be proved. The first spark had been set -to the tinder which presently would set the whole of England ablaze -with the hideous flame of persecution. But to make their villainous -perjuries more startling, and at the same time to obtain better -pay for uttering them, they wanted to add to their list a few more -high-sounding names which would have the additional advantage of -proving the far-reaching dimensions of the supposed Popish plot. -Amongst these names that of Stowmaries would be of great moment. Daniel -Pye with his intimate acquaintance with my lord became a valuable -addition to the band. - -Soon he was taught to concoct a plausible story; information against -Papists was being richly rewarded already by the terrorised Ministry -and Parliament. But Pye, grafting his own wits onto the lesson given, -bethought himself of the rich tailor over in Paris who surely would -not only help him actively in the telling of his lies, but also pay -him passing well for bringing Lord Stowmaries to humiliation and -disgrace--if not to the gallows. - -Tongue--who had remained Daniel Pye's guide and leader in all his -villainies--fully approved of the plan; we may take it that he intended -to levy a percentage on what the more ignorant peasant would obtain -from Master Legros. - -It was felt among that vile band of informers that foreign witnesses, -especially those of French nationality, would be a valuable help to the -success of the accusations, and to all these men of low and debased -mind, it seemed quite natural that the tailor--whose daughter had been -the heroine of a public scandal brought about by Lord Stowmaries' -repudiation of her--would out of vengeful malice be only too ready to -swear to any falsehood against the young man. - -Thus Daniel Pye went over to France, accompanied by the good wishes of -an infamous crowd. The few pounds which he had saved whilst he was in -Mistress Peyton's service were rapidly dwindling away. The journey to -Paris had been expensive, too, and he had therefore much at stake in -this interview with the tailor, and watched with greedy eyes the face -both of Legros and of his daughter, now that the latter was silent and -that the old man resolutely took no part in the conversation. - -Of a truth Legros had been listening moodily to what this uncouth -stranger was saying, trying to comprehend the drift of all his talk. -But the worthy tailor had only a very scanty knowledge of the English -tongue, only so much in fact as enabled him in his business to make -himself understood by the cloth manufacturers and button makers of -England with whom he came in contact. Therefore he had only made vague -guesses as to what Pye was saying to Rose Marie. Once or twice he -tried to interpose, but every time his daughter checked him with a -gesture of firm entreaty, and then a whispered: "_Chéri_, allow me to -speak with him!" - -Now after that first instinctive movement of recoil quickly suppressed, -Rose Marie, keen to know what ugly schemes were being nurtured in the -man's brain, feeling, too, that to know might mean the power to avert -or to help, turned with well-assumed cordiality once more to Daniel Pye. - -"Meseems, sir," she said, "that you have more to tell me. In what way -can I help to prove that my lord of Stowmaries hath conspired against -the King of England?" - -"You need not do much, Mistress," rejoined Pye confidentially. "I will -do most of the work for you. But I am a poor man and--" - -"I understand. You want some money. You wish to be paid. For what?" - -That sense of repulsion almost overmastered her again. Was she not -lending herself--if only with words and with seeming acquiescence--to -some abominable infamy? Swiftly her thoughts flew back to the pool of -Cluny, the water lilies smirched with the slime. How true had been -those words he spoke: contact with what is depraved, what is mean and -base, soils and humiliates ineradicably very soon. - -"You have come to my father to sell him some information against Lord -Stowmaries. Is that it?" she reiterated impatiently as Daniel Pye was -somewhat slow in replying. - -"I can bring Lord Stowmaries to the gallows, by just saying the word," -replied the man. "I thought Master Legros would wish me to say the -word--that he would help a poor man who tried to do him service." - -"My lord of Stowmaries is not at the mercy of false accusers," she said -almost involuntarily. - -"Papists in England do conspire," retorted Pye phlegmatically, "and I -and my friends know a vast deal of their doings--Hark 'ee, Mistress," -he added, drawing nearer to her, "and you too, my master, for methinks -you understand something of what I say. It is all as simple and as -clear as daylight. Papists are in very bad odour in England, and the -Ministry and Parliament are all in blue terror lest the country be sold -to France or to Rome. Now my friend Titus Oates and some other equally -honourable gentlemen bethought themselves of a splendid plan whereby -we can all render our own country a great service by exposing these -Papist conspiracies. We are being well paid already for any information -we get, and information is quite easy to obtain. Look at Master Oates! -He hath invented a splendid tale whereby the Duke of York himself and -certainly his secretary--one Coleman--and a number of others do find -themselves in dire trouble. Lord Stowmaries is a Papist, too. I know -him well. You know him passing well. We can readily concoct a famous -story between us, which will vastly please the Privy Council and -Parliament. Lord Stowmaries, I feel sure, would wish to see England -Catholic like himself. He wishes to see the King put away, and the Duke -of York reigning in his stead. Well! all that we need do, good Master -and Mistress, is to write out a statement wherein we all swear that we -overheard my lord of Stowmaries express a desire to that effect, and -the man who did you both so great a wrong, the man, Master, who first -married your daughter and then cast her away from him as if she were -of evil fame, will dangle on the gallows to your satisfaction and to -mine." - -Daniel Pye paused, viewing his two interlocutors with a glance of -triumph. He had absolutely no doubt in his mind that the rich tailor -would within the next second or two--as soon, in fact, as he had -recovered from the first shock of pleasant surprise, jump up from his -chair, and with the impetuous fervour peculiar to Frenchmen, throw -himself on the breast of his benefactor. The transference of a bag full -of gold from the pocket of the grateful and rich tailor to that of good -Master Pye would then be but a matter of time. - -But no such manifestations of joyful excitement occurred, and the -expression of triumph in the informer's face soon gave place to one of -anxiety. - -M. Legros had looked up at his daughter, who stood beside him, pale and -thoughtful. - -"I have not understood all that this man hath said, my jewel." - -"'Tis as well, Father dear," she replied, "for methinks you would have -thrashed him to within an inch of his life. Nay!" she added coldly -as the Huguenot clerk--suddenly realising that matters were taking -a dangerous turn all unbeknown as yet to his companion--gripped the -latter's arm and began to talk to him volubly in English, "you, sir, -need not warn your friend. I will tell him, myself, all that he need -know." - -"Miserable perjurer," she continued, now speaking directly to Pye, "go -out of my father's house forthwith, ere he understands more of your -villainies and breaks his stick across your back, as he would over -that of a mad and vicious cur. I have listened to your lies, your evil -projects, your schemes of villainies only because I wished to know the -extent of your infamy and gauge the harm which your perjuries might -cause. Now, with the help of God, I can yet warn him, who though he may -have injured me, is nevertheless my husband in the sight of Heaven. -Your perjuries will do you no good--they will mayhap lead you and your -friends to the gallows. If there is justice in England your lies will -lead you thither. Now you can go, ere I myself beg my father to lay his -dog-whip across your back." - -Daniel Pye's surprise was quite boundless. It had never for a moment -entered his head that the tailor and his family would not join readily -in any project for the undoing of my lord Stowmaries. He blamed -himself for having been too precipitate; he would have liked to argue -and mayhap to persuade, but though he did not understand the French -language, he guessed by the expression in the master tailor's eyes, as -his daughter now spoke with cold decision to him, that the moment was -not propitious for a prolonged stay in this inhospitable house. - -The look of terror on his interpreter's face also warned him that a -hasty retreat would be the most prudent course; already M. Legros was -gripping his stick very ominously. - -But by the time the old man had struggled to his feet, Daniel Pye and -his companion had incontinently fled. They had reached the door, torn -it open and were out in the street even before M. Legros had time to -throw his stick after them. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - - A saint whose perfect soul - With perfect love for goal - Faith hardly might control, - Creeds might not harden. - --SWINBURNE. - - -When Legros was alone once more with his daughter he asked for a fuller -explanation. - -"I wish, my jewel, that you had not interfered," he said reproachfully, -"when first I desired to kick those rascals out of doors. My first -instinct was right, you see." - -"Nay, but, Father dear," she said gently, "I am glad that you yielded -to me in this. If we had not listened to what these men said, we should -know nothing of the villainies which they are concocting, and could not -warn those whom they attack." - -"Methinks that were no concern of ours," retorted her father gruffly. - -"They are proposing to bring false accusations of treason against Lord -Stowmaries," urged Rose Marie, almost reproachfully. - -"And what is that to us, my child?" - -"Lord Stowmaries is my husband, Father; to-morrow we set out on a -journey in order to ask him to render me justice--and this we do on -Monseigneur's advice." - -"There is no obligation on our part to undertake the journey." - -"There was none yesterday, Father dear, but there is to-day." - -"To-day? Why?" - -"Because to-day we know that Lord Stowmaries--my husband--is in danger -of his life, and that we can, mayhap, give him timely warning." - -"Lord Stowmaries is so little thy husband, child, that even to-day -when thou thinkest of saving him from these perjurers, he goes about -carrying in the pocket of his coat the dispensation to repudiate thee, -which he hath obtained from His Holiness by a misrepresentation of -facts." - -Even as he spoke these harsh words--and he spoke them roughly, too--the -good tailor took his daughter's hand tenderly in his, and stroked it, -as if to mitigate by this loving touch the cruelty of the words. But -the child who had been once so yielding and submissive was now an -obstinate woman. - -"All the more reason, Father dear," she said, "for proving to my Lord -Stowmaries that he hath deeply wronged me, and that I am worthy to be -his wife." - -He was wholly unaccustomed to this new phase in his daughter's -character. She had always been of a meek, gentle disposition, still a -child in her expressions of loving obedience, in her tender, clinging -ways. Now, suddenly she seemed to have a will of her own. She it was -who had decreed that Monseigneur's advice should be followed, she it -was now who refused to give up all thoughts of the journey. - -Let us confess that worthy M. Legros was now for awaiting events. If -the rascals spoke true, God Himself had provided a glorious vengeance -against the dastardly young reprobate who had so ill-used Rose Marie. -Papa Legros of a truth did not see that she--the injured wife--was -called upon to move a finger in the cause of a man who had paid another -to dishonour her. There are times and circumstances in life when the -meekest of men become as ravenous tigers. The kindly tailor had a heart -of gold, a simple mind and an adoring fondness for his child. He would -never have done the meanest man any hurt. Yet in this case, and because -of the terrible wrong done to his Rose Marie, he almost gloated on the -thought of the troubles which were about to descend on Stowmaries. -Vaguely the hope wormed itself into his heart that my lord would cease -to exist--painlessly if possible--still that he would cease to be, -and then Rose Marie would be free, a child-widow, who might yet find -happiness in the arms of a good man. - -But not one thought of Michael in all this! Legros himself would not -let his mind dwell on that reprobate whom he had loved as a son. And -Rose Marie? Did she perchance, when thinking of her journey to England, -feel a vague thrill of hope that she might see him there? - -Who shall pry into the secret orchard, the key of which lies hid in a -young girl's heart. Those who knew Rose Marie both before and after -the tragic episode of the mock marriage, declared that she had a great -desire to see Michael Kestyon again. - -If only to tell him that she had not forgiven him--that she would never -forgive--and never, never forget. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - - Steep and deep and sterile, under fields no plough can tame, - Dip the cliffs full-fledged with poppies red as love or shame. - --SWINBURNE. - - -And it was in consequence of Monseigneur the Archbishop's advice, and -of maman's desire that this advice be acted upon, that anon we see -Master Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty, the King of France, -journeying with his daughter to England. - -But this was chiefly, too, because of what Daniel Pye, the informer, -had gone over to Paris to say. Nothing would take it out of Rose -Marie's head that it was her duty now, if ever, to be loyal to the -man who was still her husband in the sight of God. He could repudiate -her--if His Holiness gave him leave--but two great wrongs could never -make one simple right. - -She, Rose Marie, had no dispensation to break the marriage vows of -eighteen years ago. She had done no wrong to justify a dissolution of -that marriage. Her husband was her husband; he was in danger of losing -his honour and his life. She could at least give him timely warning. - -If she failed in this, her duty, then indeed would she deserve the -scorn of the world, the repudiation and the disgrace which pertains to -the unfaithful wife. - -On a beautiful sunny day early in October, Master Legros and his -daughter first caught sight of the white cliffs of England gleaming -beneath the kiss of the radiant sun. Rose Marie had sat silently, -meditatively, in the prow of the boat; she had gazed during the past -few hours into that distant horizon whereon trembled a heat-laden mist. -The titanic band of gilded atoms had long hidden from her view the -shores of that mysterious country wherein he dwelt. - -England to her meant the land where Michael Kestyon lived, and with -aching eyes and throbbing heart she watched and watched, waiting for -that first view when the mist would part and reveal to her the soil on -which his foot was wont to tread. How starved was her heart that even -that thought was a solace; the sensation of putting her foot down on -the selfsame land whereon he dwelt was almost a consolation. - -She gazed at the white cliffs like one anhungered, and as the -slowly-moving boat drew nearer to this new land of promise, the sun -slowly setting in the west changed with a touch of the fairy wand the -white cliffs into gold. - -She thought England beautiful both in the long twilight when mysterious -veils of grey and mauve soften the outlines of the distant landscape, -and in the glory of noon when tiny clouds chase one another across a -sky of tender sapphire blue. She loved the early morning when every -blade of grass on the crest of the cliffs at Dover was adorned by a -tiny brilliant diamond, and she loved the midday sun which had drawn -the breath of the dew until its soul had passed into delicate golden -vapours. - -She loved the quaintly-arrayed army of fruit trees in the orchards, -the tender green of the lawns, the ruddy tints of early autumn which -clothed the hillside with a brilliant mantle of gold. No! She could not -believe that in this land of beauty, of peace and of plenty, all men -were born traitors, all men were liars and thieves of honour. - -Some subtle change came over them, no doubt, and their bravery, their -loyalty, passed away from them, revealing the devil which had taken -possession of their soul. She would persist in thinking that Michael, -whom she had loved, was a different man to the one who stood before -her, accused and self-convicted--more shamed than she whom he had -wronged. - -Thus her thoughts kept her body alert and she scarcely felt the fatigue -of that long, lumbering drive on the stage-coach between Dover and -London. There was so much to see and so much to think on and to plan. -The very next day her father should seek out my lord of Stowmaries and -tell him all that was brewing against him. It was surely more than -likely that my lord would be grateful and in his gratitude strive to -undo the mischief which his own wantonness had created. - -What this would mean to Rose Marie she had not even dared to ask -herself. A strong sense of right and of justice and an overwhelming -love for her parents had prompted her to offer herself a willing -sacrifice for their happiness. Her own poor heart was already so -bruised, so battered, almost broken in its agony of sorrow, what -mattered a little more humiliation, a few more tears, another pang? - -Rose Marie sighed with regret when in the gloaming the stage-coach -finally left behind it the orchards and green pastures of Kent and -rattled over the cobblestones of the big city. At seven o'clock, with -much rattle of chains and billets, many shouts from driver and ostler -and much champing of bits, the big vehicle swung through the gates of -the yard at Savage's Bell Inn near Lud Gate. Here the tailor and his -daughter meant to put up, the hostelry having been warmly recommended -to him by several business friends who travelled to and fro from London -to Paris. - -As Rose Marie climbed down from the top of the coach, it seemed to her -that despite the fast-gathering gloom within the enclosed yard, she -could recognise the face of Master Daniel Pye among the crowd who were -assembled to witness the arrival of the coach. - -The face disappeared in the crowd almost as soon as she had recognised -it, but the brief vision left her with a great sense of satisfaction -that obviously the journey had not been undertaken in vain. The man -had taken the trouble to watch and to wait, obviously fearing that -his nefarious plans might be frustrated by those whom he had hoped to -enlist on his side. - -Neither Rose Marie nor good M. Legros slept much that night. The -fatigue of the journey, the sound of many voices jabbering in a tongue -unfamiliar to their ear, chased sleep resolutely away. Only toward -early morning did father and daughter, each in their respective very -uncomfortable beds, fall into troubled slumber. - -Master Legros dreamt of the morrow's meeting with his lordly -son-in-law, and Rose Marie fell asleep wondering in what quarter of the -great city dwelt the man whose very image she would wish to blot out of -her memory. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - - These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, - One time or other, break some gallows back. - --2 HENRY IV. IV. 3. - - -Master Daniel Pye had certainly thought it wiser--after that -precipitous exit from the master tailor's house--to watch and to await -events. He had been wholly taken by surprise at M. Legros' reception -of his news, and staggered at the thought that where he had sought a -patron, or at least an ally, he had found an active enemy. - -He soon learned that preparations were being actively pushed forward -in the house of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie for the journey of the -master and his daughter to England. Pye and his interpreter, therefore, -well-disguised and travelling as the poorest of men in the wake of -their betters, reached Dover by the same packet boat that had brought -the Legros hither. While the latter took rest at a small hostelry -in the town, awaiting the day when a stage-coach would take them to -London, Pye made his way straight to the great city, using what humble -conveyances he contrived to hire for some portions of the road. - -The yard of Savage's Bell Inn near Lud Gate was the halting place -of the stage-coach from Dover, and thither Pye repaired on those -afternoons--three days in the week--when a complement of voyagers from -France were expected. It was quite simple, and within forty-eight hours -Pye found his patience rewarded and his worst fears justified. The good -tailor had obviously come to London in order to warn Lord Stowmaries -of the mischief that was brewing against him. - -Fortunately Pye had his false information against my lord ready, even -before he had set out for Paris. His friend, the Huguenot clerk, had -writ out the deposition in a good round hand, and Daniel Pye had -sworn to it before a commissioner. All he had to do now was to lodge -it with Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey, who had already received the sworn -depositions of Titus Oates and of Tongue. - -Lord Stowmaries' name also figured on the Oates indictment as one -of those who were said to have been present at the famous "consult" -whereat the Duke of York was offered the crown of England by the -Catholic peers of this realm at the express desire of the Pope of Rome. - -Daniel Pye had incontinently sworn to everything that had been asked of -him. He pretended a close intimacy with my lord of Stowmaries, and was -prepared to take all the solemn oaths that were required to the effect -that he had overheard my lord express loudly every kind of treasonable -wish--notably that of seeing the king duly poisoned by his physician. - -But for all these false accusations, Pye presently discovered that he -could only get about £20 as a reward, and that only if the indictment -was proved on evidence. The commissioners had already told him that in -order to bring his accusations home it were better that another witness -came forward to swear to the same story. This is where the help of the -French tailor or of the wench would have been so useful for--as luck -and his own eagerness would have it--Pye had declared in his original -affidavit that he had overheard my lord Stowmaries' treasonable -conversations at a hostelry in Paris. - -Pye had thought thereby to give more verisimilitude to his story, and -even Master Tongue had approved of this plan, when he heard the man -declaring emphatically that the tailor's daughter would only be too -ready to swear away the life of the man whom she must hate with all the -bitter sense of an overwhelming wrong. - -Thus therefore did the accusation stand. Master Daniel Pye had sworn -that when he was at the hostelry of the "Rat Mort," in Paris, on April -19th of this same year of grace, he had overheard my lord of Stowmaries -talking--with one of the ministers of the King of France--of the terms -of a treaty whereby the Papist peers of England would acclaim the -Duke of York as King of England and vassal of the Pope, and receive a -subsidy of five million livres from King Louis for their pains. - -It was indeed a splendid story. No wonder that Master Pye was -over-pleased with it; he had added the final touch of apparent truth to -it by stating that M. Legros--a French subject--and his daughter--the -reputed and repudiated wife of the accused--were also present at the -"Rat Mort" on that occasion and had also overheard this conversation, -and would testify as to the verity thereof. - -Imagine the disappointment, the vexation, nay, the grave fears now -engendered in Master Pye's mind at thought that the tailor and his -wench meant to frustrate his schemes completely, and not only to throw -discredit on the elaborate accusation, but even mayhap to prejudice the -payment of that meagre reward of £20. - -When Master Legros, accompanied by his daughter arrived at the Bell -Inn, Daniel Pye was at first seized with a mad desire to try and -influence them yet once again in his own favour. Remember that Pye was -little more than an uncouth peasant, with just as much knowledge of -other people's natures as he had gleaned through daily contact with his -own underlings. - -He could not get it into his head that the Legros really meant to -forego the happy sensation of a complete revenge, and half thought -that, mayhap, they had misunderstood the whole scheme during that -stormy interview in the back shop, when there was so much talk of stick -and of dog-whip, and not nearly enough of just reward for a great -service rendered. - -At the last moment, however, when Legros had alighted from the coach -and had somewhat impatiently ordered beds and board, Daniel Pye's heart -misgave him, and he felt afraid to encounter the irascible little -tailor's wrath. - -Once more he sought out his friend, the needy and out-at-elbows -Huguenot clerk, and offered him a shilling to go the next morning to -the Bell Inn and to watch the Legros' movements. Quite a goodly amount -of Master Pye's savings were now dwindling away in this direction. - -"Do you try and get speech with the tailor," he said to the young -scribe, "and try by your great skill to make him believe that you would -wish to serve him, seeing that you have quarrelled with me and are now -penniless. These people must of a truth be friendless and lonely in -London; who knows but that they may take you as their guide, in which -case all you need do is to try and prevent by every means in your power -that they have speech with Lord Stowmaries for the next few days. Once -my lord is duly arrested on our information, strangers will, of course, -have no access to him; the trials we know are to be hurried through -very quickly and there would then be no fear of our losing our just -rewards." - -Well schooled in the part which he had to play, the Huguenot clerk duly -installed himself just outside the gates of the yard of the Bell Inn -on the following morning, and by ten o'clock he had the satisfaction -of seeing Master Legros obviously bent on obtaining information, and -wandering for that purpose somewhat disconsolately about the yard, -seeing that no one there was able to converse with him in his own -tongue. - -This was the clerk's opportunity. He slipped through the gate, and -doffing his soft cap, humbly accosted the foreign gentleman. - -"Can I be of service, Master?" he said in French. "I am an interpreter -by trade." - -"And if I mistake not," replied the tailor suspiciously, "you are one -of two damned blackguards who came to my house in Paris with some lying -tale of Papist conspiracy against my lord Stowmaries, some few days -ago." - -"Hush, hush, good Master, I entreat you," quoth the clerk with -well-feigned alarm, and throwing quick, furtive glances around him; -"the subject is not one which must be discussed aloud just now." - -"And why, sirrah, must it not be discussed aloud?" - -"Because to call yourself a Papist just now, my Master, is synonymous -to proclaiming yourself a traitor. Your very life would not be safe -in this yard. A reign of terror hath set in in England. The peaceful -citizens themselves go about the streets carrying flails hidden in the -pockets of their breeches to defend themselves against the Jesuits. -Nay, Master, an your business is not urgent, I entreat you to return to -France, ere you or your daughter come to any harm." - -"My business with my lord Stowmaries is urgent," said Legros with -characteristic hot-headed impulsiveness; "an you'll direct me to his -house, there'll be a shilling or mayhap two for you." - -"In the name of Heaven, good Master," ejaculated the clerk in an -agonised whisper, "do not speak that name aloud. My lord is in very bad -odour. His arrest is imminent and all his friends are like to fare as -badly as himself." - -"All the more reason why I should speak with him at once. So now, -sirrah! Wilt earn that shilling and direct me to his house, or wilt -thou not?" - -"Alas, kind sir, I am a poor man, a starving man since that traitor, -Daniel Pye, hath turned against me, seeing that I would not aid him in -his conspiracies. And I'll gladly earn a shilling, kind sir, and direct -you to the house of my lord Stowmaries, an you will deign to place -yourself under my protection." - -Truly Master Legros had no cause not to accept the clerk's offer. -However villainous the man's conduct might or might not be, there could -be no harm in accepting his escort in broad daylight as far as the -house of my lord of Stowmaries. - -Legros was a complete stranger in the English city, which he thought -overwhelmingly vast and terribly dirty. He had heard many tales of the -plague in London, and though this had occurred thirteen years ago, he -still thought the place infected and mistrusted the hackney coaches and -carrying chairs which were plying the streets for hire. - -After hurried consultation with his daughter, he decided that no harm -could come of being escorted by the clerk through the streets of -London. The latter spoke French and would be vastly useful, and he -could easily be dismissed, once my Lord Stowmaries' house had been -reached. - -Good M. Legros was suffering from an unusually severe attack of chronic -fussiness. He could not have sat still another hour, and was for -starting immediately for my lord's house. Rose Marie had no reason for -wishing to put off that interview, the thought of which she abhorred -more and more strongly as the time for its occurrence drew nigh. - -She was conscious of a desire to get it over, to put finality between -the inevitable and her own ever-rebellious hopes. For her parents' -sake she wanted to see Lord Stowmaries grateful and yielding; for her -own she almost wished that he remained obdurate. She would gladly have -purchased her freedom at the price of more bitter humiliation than -she had yet endured, yet she had set herself the task of purchasing -the content and happiness of those she cared for at the price of her -freedom and the most bitter of all humiliation. - -These contradictory thoughts and wishes fretted her and rendered her -nervous and agitated. But at her father's bidding, she was ready to -make a start. - -When Legros once more came down into the courtyard, dressed for the -momentous visit, and with his daughter on his arm, the Huguenot clerk -was nowhere to be seen. He soon reappeared, however, almost breathless -from fast running, but seemingly ready to accompany the distinguished -foreign visitors withersoever they wished to go. - -He had just had time in the interim to consult with Master Daniel Pye -as to what had best be done. - -"If I do not take that accursed tailor over to my lord Stowmaries, some -one else will for sure," he said disconsolately. - -"Let me think for a moment," quoth Pye, with an anxious frown on his -lowering brow. "I understand that the arrest of my lord is imminent--if -only we can put off this meddlesome Frenchman for to-day, I do verily -believe that all will be well. For the nonce you had best tell him -that my lord Stowmaries is from home, but is expected daily, hourly, -to return. Thus we might gain twenty-four hours, for you would tell the -same tale again in the afternoon--after that your wits should give you -counsel. Am I not paying you that they should be of service to me?" - -Thus it was that when the clerk arrived breathless in the yard of -the Bell Inn, where Master Legros was impatiently awaiting him, he -excused himself for his absence on the grounds that he had--surely with -commendable forethought--taken the precaution to make enquiries as to -whether my lord of Stowmaries was at home. - -"My lord's house is some distance from here," he explained, "and I -thought to save you and the fair mistress a fruitless walk through the -city." - -"Then 'twas mightily officious of you, sirrah?" quoth the irascible -tailor, "to meddle with what doth not concern you." - -"Zeal in your service prompted me, good master, and as my lord of -Stowmaries is from home, I have the honour of saving you much fatigue." - -"My lord is from home, did you say?" queried Legros in a tone of -obvious disappointment. - -"Ay, good master; but his servants expect to see him back to-morrow." - -"We will find out for ourselves, Father dear, when my lord is -expected home," here interposed Rose Marie, with her usual quiet air -of decision; "no doubt there are others in London besides this same -officious clerk who will guide us to his house." - -We may imagine that at this point the pious young Huguenot formulated -an inward but very emphatic "Damn!" cursing the interference of young -damsels and their impatient ways. - -Not having his principal to consult with, he was momentarily thrown -on his own resources of wit and of readiness. This was certainly an -occasion when the devil should aid those who serve him well. The clerk -had only a very slight moment of hesitation, then a brilliant idea -seemed to strike him, for his wizened face brightened up visibly. - -"Fair Mistress," he said in tones of respectful reproach, "far be it -from me to shirk my duty toward you. An you'll permit me I'll escort -you to the house of my lord of Stowmaries forthwith." - -"Then, why so much talking, sirrah," rejoined Papa Legros. "March, and -briskly, too. I have a convenient stick which oft works wonders in -making laggards walk briskly. Go ahead; my daughter and I will follow." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - - "I will hold your hand but as long as all may, - Or so very little longer." - --BROWNING. - - -After half an hour's continuous walking--for the roads out of London -were over-bad after the heavy rains during the past week--the Huguenot -clerk, closely followed by Master Legros, who had his daughter on his -arm, turned into the new parish of Soho, where a number of fine houses -had been recently erected, and a few more were even now in process of -construction. - -The clerk had at first seemed desirous of imparting various scraps of -topographical information to his compatriots, but to his interesting -conversation the tailor only responded in curt monosyllables. He -still harboured a vague mistrust against his guide. The latter part -of the walk through the ill-paved, muddy and evil-smelling streets of -London was therefore accomplished in silence. Rose Marie's nerves were -tingling with excitement, and she shivered beneath her cloak and hood, -despite the warmth of this fine summer afternoon. - -Soon the little party came to a halt before a newly-built house, -fashioned of red brick with a fine portico of stone, richly carved and -tall, arched windows set in flush with the outside walls and painted in -creamy white. - -"Here lives my lord of Stowmaries," said the clerk, as without waiting -for further permission he plied the brass knocker vigorously. "Shall I -ask if he hath come home?" - -The tailor nodded in assent. He, too, was now getting too excited to -speak. The next moment a serving-man, dressed in clothes of sober grey, -opened the front door, and to the clerk's query whether my lord was at -home, he replied in the affirmative. - -Master Legros and Rose Marie were far too troubled in their minds to -notice the furnishings and appointments of the house. Rose Marie threw -the hood back from her face, and asked whether they could speak with my -lord forthwith. - -"Will you tell him, I pray you," she added, "that Monsieur Legros from -Paris desires speech with him." - -Legros dismissed the clerk--who was eager enough to get away--by -bestowing a shilling upon him, and after that he and his daughter -followed the serving-man through the hall into a small withdrawing room -where they were bidden to wait. - -A few moments of suspense--terrible alike to the girl and to the -father--then a firm tread on the flagged floor outside; a step that -to Rose Marie's supersensitive ear sounded strangely, almost weirdly -familiar. - -The next moment Michael Kestyon had entered the room. - -"You have come to speak with me, good M. Legros--" he said even as he -entered. Then he caught sight of Rose Marie and the words died on his -lips. - -They looked at one another--these two who once had been all in all one -to the other--parted now by the shadow of that unforgettable wrong. - -Instinctively--with eye fixed to eye--each asked the other the mute -question: "Didst suffer as I did?" and in the heart of each--of the -defiant adventurer, and the unsophisticated girl--there rose the wild, -mad thrill, the triumphant, exulting hosanna, at sight of the lines of -sorrow, so unmistakable, so eloquent on the face so dearly loved. - -Rose Marie saw at once how much Michael had altered--that tender, -motherly instinct inseparable from perfect womanhood told her even -more than that which the sunken eyes and the drawn look in the face so -pathetically expressed. - -Yet outwardly he had changed but little; the step--as he rapidly -crossed the room--had been as firm, as elastic as of old; he still -carried his head high, and his manner--as of yore--was easy and -gracious. When he had first entered, there was even an eager, joyful -expression in his face. He did not know, you see, that M. Legros' -visit to him was the result of a mistake, the freak of a mischievous -clerk. He really thought that the good tailor had come here to see -him, Michael, and the news had brought almost joy to his heart and had -accelerated his footsteps as he flew down to greet his visitor. - -No, the change was in none of these outward signs. It was the spirit -in him which had changed. The dark eyes once so full of tenderness had -a cold, steely look in them now, which was apparent even through the -first pleasurable greeting. The mouth, too, looked set in its lines; -the lips, which ere this were ever wont to smile, were now tightly -pressed as if for ever controlling a sigh or trying to suppress a cry -of pain. - -Michael--with the eyes of a man hungering for love--gazed on his -snowdrop and saw the change which the past dark months had wrought on -the former serenity of her face. And if he had suffered during that -time the exquisite pangs of mad and hopeless longing, how much more -acute did that pain seem now that he saw her, looking pale and fragile, -almost frightened, too, in his presence, cold as she had been ere that -mad glad moment when he had held her--a living, loving woman--in his -arms, with the hot blood rushing to her cheeks at his whispered words -of passion, and the light of love kindled in her eyes. - -Can brain of man or of torturing devils conceive aught so cruel as this -living, breathing embodiment of the might-have-been; this tearing of -every heart-string in the maddening desire for one more embrace, one -last lingering kiss, one touch only of hand against hand, one final -breath of life--after which, death and peace? - -As in a dream, good Master Legros' diffident voice struck on Michael's -ear: - -"It was with my lord of Stowmaries that we wished to speak." - -And directly after that, Rose Marie's trembling tones, half-choked with -sobs resolutely suppressed: - -"Let us go, Father--we--we must not stay here--let us go--" - -She had drawn close to her father, and was twining her hands round his -arm trying to drag him away. - -The sad pathos of this appeal--this clinging to another as if for -protection and help, whilst he--Michael--stood by--nothing to her, -less than nothing, a thing to fear, to hate, mayhap, certainly to -despise--struck him as with a whip-lash across his aching breast. But -it woke him from his dream. It brought him back to earth, with senses -bruised and temples throbbing, his pride of manhood brought down to the -dust of a childish desire to keep her here in his presence if only for -a moment, a second; to hear her speak, to look on her, to endure her -scorn if need be, only to have her there. - -Therefore, he turned to Papa Legros and almost humbly said: - -"Will you at least tell me, good Master, if I cannot serve you in any -way?" - -"No, sir, you cannot," replied Papa Legros gruffly. "I would have you -believe and know that we came here under a misapprehension. A miscreant -interpreter brought us hither, though he was bidden to take us to the -house of Lord Stowmaries. We did not know that this was your house, -sir, or believe me, we had never entered it." - -"This is not my house," rejoined Michael gravely. "It is that of my -mother, who hath left her Kentish village in order to dwell with me. -For the rest, the misapprehension is most easy of explanation; nor is -your interpreter so very much to blame." - -He paused for the space of a second or two, then fixing steady eyes on -the face of Rose Marie and throwing his head back with an air that was -almost defiant in its pride, he said: - -"You asked to speak with my lord of Stowmaries--'tis I who am the lord -of Stowmaries now." - -Then, as Legros, somewhat bewildered, stared at him in blank surprise, -he added more quietly: - -"You did not know this, mayhap?" - -"No--no--my lord," stammered the tailor, who of a truth felt strangely -perturbed, "we--that is, I and my daughter did not know that--" - -"His Majesty gave his decision late last night." - -There was a moment's silence in the room. It seemed as if Michael was -anticipating something, waiting for a word from Rose Marie. His very -attitude was an expectant one; he was leaning forward, and his eyes had -sought her lips, as if trying to guess what they would utter. - -"Then the title which you borrowed from your cousin awhile ago, and to -some purpose, you have now succeeded in filching from him altogether?" -said the girl coldly. - -If she had the desire to hurt him, she certainly did succeed. Michael -did not move, but his cheeks, already pale, turned to ashy grey; the -eyes sank still deeper within their sockets, and in a moment the face -looked worn and haggard as that of a man with one foot in the grave. - -Then he said slowly: - -"Your pardon, Mistress; I have filched naught which was not already -mine, mine and my father's before me. That which I took was my right; -it is also my mother's, who for years had been left to starve whilst -another filched from her that which was hers. For her sake did I claim -that which was mine, because during all those years of starvation, -misery and degradation--her misery and mine own degradation--she kept -up her faith in me. And also for mine own sake did I claim my right, -and in order to mend a wrong which, it seems, I had committed. Good -Master Legros," he added, turning to the vastly bewildered tailor, "as -Lord of Stowmaries I entered your house and, methinks, your heart. Of -this I am not ashamed; the wrong that I did you is past; the righting -thereof will last my lifetime and yours. I was Lord Stowmaries then by -the word of God--I am that now by the word of the King and Parliament. -That which seemed a lie I have proved to be true. Will you give me -back your daughter, whom the caprice of a wanton reprobate would have -cast from him, and whom I have justly won, by my deeds, by my will, by -my crime if you call it so, but whom I have won rightfully and whom I -would wish to render happy even at the cost of my life." - -Gradually, as he spoke, the tone of defiance died out of his voice -and only pride remained expressed therein--pride and an infinity of -tenderness. There was no attempt at mitigating the fault that was -past, no desire to excuse or to palliate. The man and his sin were -inseparable; obviously had the sin to be again committed, Michael would -have committed it again, with the same determination and the same -defiance. - -"I am a man, and what I do, I do. I won you by a trick. I fought for -your love and won it. Mine enemy put a weapon in my hand. With it I -conquered him; I conquered Fate and you. Had I been ashamed of the act, -I had never committed it. I looked sin squarely in the face and took it -by its grim hand and allowed it to lead me to your feet. To you I never -lied; you I do not cheat." - -These thoughts and more were fully expressed in his eyes as they -rested on Rose Marie, and so subtle is the wave of sympathy that she -understood every word which he did not utter; she understood them, even -though she steeled her heart against the insidious whisperings of a -drowsy conscience. - -We may well imagine that on the other hand, good M. Legros, though -he did not altogether grasp the proud sophistries of such a splendid -blackguard, nevertheless quickly ranged himself against the whole array -of all the grim virtues. Would you blame him very much if you knew that -within the innermost recesses of his kindly and simple heart he no -longer greatly desired to speak with the man whom he had come all the -way from Paris to supplicate and to warn? - -Was it very wrong, think you, very self-interested on the part of -this amiable little tailor to be now cursing those very necessities -engendered by an ultrasensitive sense of loyalty which imposed on him -the task of cleaving to that man who was now dispossessed, beggared, a -most undesirable husband for his beautiful daughter? - -Truly the situation, from the point of view of conscience and of -decency, was a very difficult one. Is it a wonder that the doting -father was quite unable to grapple with it? - -Here was a man who was a terrible scoundrel, yet a mightily pleasing -one for all that. He was now rich, of high consideration and power; -he professed and undoubtedly felt a great and genuine love for Rose -Marie. On the other hand, the other--his daughter's rightful lord--only -too ready, nay, anxious, to repudiate her--who truly was a far greater -blackguard and not nearly such an attractive one--he was now poor and -insignificant--always providing that Michael Kestyon's story was true -and--and-- - -Good M. Legros' conscience was having such a tough fight inside him -that he had to take out his vast, coloured handkerchief and to mop his -forehead well, for he was literally in a sweat of intense perturbation. -He would not meet Michael's enquiring eyes, lest the latter should -read in his own the ready assent which they proclaimed. The worst of -the situation was that good M. Legros was bound to leave the ultimate -decision to his daughter, and alas, he knew quite well what that -decision would be. And God help them all, but he was bound to admit -that that decision was the only right one, in the sight of the Lord and -of all His self-denying and uncomfortably rigid saints. - -Even now Rose Marie's clear voice, which had lost all its childlike -ring of old and all its light tones of joy, broke in on her father's -meditation. - -"Sir, or my lord," she said coldly, "for of a truth I know not which -you are, meseems you do a cowardly thing by appealing to my father. -He would only have my earthly welfare in view, and even in this he -might be mistaken if he thought that my earthly welfare could lie -there, where there is disloyalty and shameless betrayal. For all your -pride, good sir, and for all your defiance, you cannot e'en persuade -yourself that what you do is right. As for me, I am a wife--not yours, -my lord--despite the trick wherewith you drew from me an oath at the -altar. I swore no love, no allegiance to any man save to him whom -you have now wholly despoiled and beggared--nay," she added with a -look of pride at least as great as his own, "I need no reminder, sir, -that I stand here, a cast-out wife, repudiated for no fault of mine -own, but through an infamy in which _you_ bore the leading hand. But, -nevertheless, I am a wife, and as such God hath enjoined me to cleave -to my husband. Since you have beggared him, I, thank God, can still -enrich him. Never have I blest my father's wealth so sincerely as now, -when it can go to proving to a scoffer that there is truth and loyalty -in women, even when sordid self-interest fights against truth and -justice. And if all the world, his king and country, turned against -my lord, I, his wife, good sir, his wife in the sight of God, despite -dispensations, despite courts of law and decrees of popes or kings, I, -his wife, for all that would still be ready to serve him." - -Gradually her voice as she spoke had become more steady and also -less trenchant; there was a quiver of passion in it, the passion of -self-sacrifice. And he--poor man--mistook that warm, vibrating ring -in the sweet, tender voice for the expression of true love felt for -another. - -"I did not know that you loved him, Rose Marie," he said simply. - -She bent her head in order to hide the blush which rose to her cheeks -at his words. Was she thankful that he had misunderstood? Perhaps! For -of a truth it would make the battle less hard to fight, and would guard -against defeat. But, nevertheless, two heavy tears rose to her eyes, -and strive as she might she could not prevent their falling down onto -her hands which were clasped before her. - -He saw the tears, and heard her murmur: - -"He who was my lord of Stowmaries is a beggar now." - -"No, not a beggar," he rejoined quietly, "for he is rich beyond the -dreams of men." - -"Good sir--or--or my lord," here interposed Papa Legros, who was still -in a grave state of mental perturbation, "you see that the decision -doth not rest with me--Heaven help me, but with all your fault I -would--somehow--somehow have entrusted my child in your keeping with an -easy heart." - -"And may God bless you for these words, good Master," said Michael -fervently. - -"But you see, kind sir--I mean my lord--that this cannot be. My -lord of Stowmaries--if so be that he is that no longer--yet as lord -of Stowmaries he did wed my daughter. She feels--and rightly, too, -no doubt--that she owes fealty to him. God knows but 'tis all very -puzzling and I never was a casuist, but she says this is right and no -doubt it is. It had all been much easier but for this additional grave -trouble which threatens my lord." - -"What additional grave trouble? I know of none such," queried Michael. - -"A scoundrel, liar and perjurer hath laid information against my lord, -that he did conspire against the King of England." - -"Impossible." - -"Ay! 'tis true, good my lord. The damned ruffian came to Paris -to inform me of all the lies which he meant to tell against Lord -Stowmaries, hoping that I would be pleased thereat and would reward him -for his perjuries. I kicked him out of my house, and my daughter and I -came to warn my lord of the mischief that was brewing against him." - -A frown of deep perplexity darkened Michael's brow. - -"Good master tailor, I pray you leave me to see my cousin forthwith. -The trouble, alas, if your information be correct, is graver than even -you have any idea of. England is mad just now! Terror hath chased away -all her reason, and, God help her, all her sense of justice. It may -be that I shall have to arrange that my cousin leave the country as -soon as may be. An you return to France soon he could travel in your -company." - -"I would wish to see my lord myself," said Rose Marie. - -"Because you do not trust me?" he asked. - -She would not reply to his look of reproach. How strange it is when -a wave of cruelty sweeps over a woman, who otherwise is tender and -kind and gentle. Rose Marie felt herself quite unable to stifle this -longing to wound and to hurt, even though her heart ached at sight of -the hopeless misery which was expressed in Michael's every movement, -in the tonelessness of his voice, and the drawn look in his face. Who -shall probe the secrets of a woman's heart, of a woman who has been -cheated of a great love even at its birth, of a woman who thought that -she had reached the utmost pinnacle of happiness only to find herself -hurled from those giddy heights down, down to an abyss of loneliness, -of lovelessness, and of bitter, undying memories. - -"The child is unstrung, good my lord," here interposed Papa Legros -gently. "I pray, do not think that we do not trust in you. It were -better mayhaps that you did see Lord Stowmaries--er--your cousin--alas! -I know not how to call him now--and we'll to him this afternoon. He can -then best tell us what he desires to do." - -"Come, Rose Marie, we had best go now," he added with a pathetic sigh, -which expressed all the disappointment of his kindly heart. - -He picked up his soft felt hat and with gentle, trembling movement -twirled it round and round in his hand. Rose Marie drew the hood over -her hair and prepared to follow him. - -It was all over then! The seconds had flown. She had come and would now -go again, leaving him mayhap a shade more desolate even than before. - -It was all over, and the darkness of the past months would descend -on him once more, only that the darkness would be more dense, more -unbearable, because of this one ray of light--caused by her presence -here for these few brief moments. - -Of a truth he had not known until now quite how much he had hoped, -during these past months whilst he fought his battle with grim and -steady vigour, winning step by step, until that last final decision of -the king, which gave him all that he wanted, all that he desired to -offer her. - -Now she was going out of his life--for the second time--and it seemed -more irrevocable than that other parting at St. Denis. She was going -and there would not remain one single tiny spark of hope to light the -darkness of his despair. - -Nothing would remain, only memory! Memory, on which the tears of Love -would henceforth for ever be fed. Her words might ring in his ears, her -image dwell in his mind, but his heart would go on starving, starving, -athirst for just one tiny remembrance on which to dwell until -mercifully it would break at last. - -"May I not kiss your finger tips once more, Rose Marie?" he pleaded. - -The words had escaped his lips almost involuntarily. The longing for -the tiny remembrance had been too strong to be stilled. - -A kiss on her finger tips, one crumb of bread to a man dying of hunger, -the sponge steeped in water to slake a raging thirst. - -She turned to him. The tears had dried on her cheeks by now, and her -eyes were seared and aching. She looked on his face, but did not lift -her hand. Papa Legros, who felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat, -busied himself with a careful examination of the door handle. - -"It will probably be a long farewell," said Michael gently. "Will you -not let me hold your hand just once again, my snowdrop? Nay, not mine, -but another's--a king now amongst men." - -Then, as very slowly, and with eyes fixed straight into his own, she -raised her hand up to his, he took it, and looked long at each finger -tip, tapering and delicately tipped with rose. - -"See the epicure I am," he said, whilst a quaint smile played round -the corners of his lips; "your little hand rests now in mine. I know -that I may kiss it, that my lips may linger on each exquisite finger -tip, until my poor brain, dizzy with joy, will mayhap totter into the -land of madness. I know that I may kiss this cold little hand--so cold! -I know that it will chill my lips--and still I wait--for my last joy -now is anticipation. Nay, do not draw your hand away, my beautiful -ice-maid. Let me hold it just one little brief while longer. Are we not -to be friends in the future? Then as a friend may I not hold and kiss -your hand?" - -She could not speak, for sobs which she resolutely suppressed would -rise in her throat, but she allowed her hand to rest in his; there was -some solace even in this slight touch. - -"Is it not strange," he said, "that life will go on just the same? The -birds will sing, the leaves in autumn will wither and will fall. Your -dear eyes will greet the first swallow when it circles over the towers -of St. Gervais. Nature will not wear mourning because a miserable -reprobate is eating out his heart in an agony of the might-have-been." - -"I pray you, milor, release my hand," she murmured, for of a truth she -no longer could bear the strain. "My father waits--" - -"And the husband whom you love--nay, he must be a good man since God -hath loved him so--" - -"Farewell, my lord." - -"Farewell, Rose Marie--my rosemary--'tis for remembrance, you know." - -He tasted the supreme joy to the full--all the joy that was left to him -now--five finger tips, cold against his burning lips, and they trembled -beneath each kiss. Then she turned and followed her father out of the -room. - -For a moment he remained alone, standing there like one drunken or -dazed. Mechanically his hand went to the inner pocket of his coat and -anon he pulled out a withered, crumbling bunch of snowdrops, the tiny -bouquet which she had dropped at his feet that day in Paris, when -first he saw her, and her blue eyes kindled the flame of a great and -overwhelming passion. - -Nay! thou art a man, and of what thou doest, thou art not ashamed; -but, proud man that thou art, there is thy Master, Love; he rules thee -with his rod of steel, and if thou sin, beware! for that rod will smite -thee 'til thou kneel humbly in the dust, with the weakness of unshed -tears shaming thy manhood, and with a faded bunch of snowdrops pressed -against thy lips, to smother a miserable, intensely human cry of awful -agony. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - What be her cards you ask? Even these:-- - The heart, that doth but crave - More, having fed; the diamond, - Skilled to make base seem brave; - The club, for smiting in the dark - The spade, to dig a grave. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -The one supreme moment of complete and abject weakness was soon -past; it had gone by in solitude. No one saw the fall of the defiant -reprobate brought to the dust by the intensity of his grief. No one but -God and triumphant Love. - -Within a few minutes Michael had gathered together his scattered -senses. What avail were tears and the bitter joys of lingering memories -when there was still so much to do? Of a truth, Rose Marie's firm -attitude of loyalty towards her rightful husband had not so much -astonished Michael, for to a man who loves, the adored one necessarily -possesses every virtue that ever adorned the halo of a saint; but he -did not know that she loved her husband, and the warmth of her defence -of the absent one had, in Michael's ears, sounded like the expression -of her love. He did not stop to reason, to visualize the fact that Rose -Marie did not know Stowmaries, that the passion in her voice had the -ring of tragic despair in it, coupled with the sublime ardour of heroic -self-sacrifice. - -A man in love never stops to reason. Passion and the dormant seeds of -ever-present jealousy still the powers of common sense. - -The thought that Rose Marie loved him, the remembrance of that day when -he had held her in his arms, feeling her young body quivering at his -touch, seeing her eyes glowing in response to his ardour, her exquisite -lips moist with the promise of a kiss, these had been his life during -the past few months; they had been the very breath of his body, the -blood in his veins, the strength which bore him through all that he had -set himself to do. - -The winning of name and estate, and then a reconquering of his -snowdrop, with a foregone certainty of victory ahead, that had been his -existence. - -A foregone certainty of victory! How oft had he exulted at the thought, -drugging his despair with the intoxicating potion of hope, and now one -brief word from her and defeat had been more hopeless, more complete -than before. - -"I am his wife," she said; "his wife in the sight of God; his wife -despite the infamy in which you bore the leading hand!" - -Michael had thought of everything, had envisaged everything save -this: that Rose Marie would turn from him, because she loved the -other. Loyalty and love, love and passion, were all synonymous -to the impatient ardour, the proud defiance of this splendid -blackguard--splendid in this, that he never swerved from the path -into which he had once engaged his footsteps, never looked back with -purposeless longing, and neither cursed Fate nor ever gave way to -despair. - -Even now, he pulled himself together, and within half an hour of the -Legros' departure from his house he was on his way to see his friend -Sir William Jones, the Attorney-General, first, and thence to his -cousin's house on the outskirts of Piccadilly. - -Rupert Kestyon--by the king's mandate no longer Lord of Stowmaries -now--still occupied the same house into which he had made triumphant -entry some two years ago on the death of the old earl. It was an -ancient family mansion built a century and a half back, with gigantic -and elaborate coat of arms carved in stone above the majestic porch. -The serving-man who in response to Michael's peremptory knocking opened -the massive door to him, gave no outward sign that so great a change -had come, and with appalling suddenness, in the fortunes of his master. - -He even addressed Michael as "sir" and spoke of "his lordship" being -still in his room upstairs. - -Impatiently waving the man aside, Michael threw hat and cloak down in -the hall, and not waiting to be formally announced he ran quickly up -the broad staircase. He knew the house well, for in childhood he had -oft been in it, when his mother, holding him by the hand, came to ask -for pecuniary assistance from the wealthy kinsman. - -Without hesitation, therefore, Michael went up to the door of the -principal bedroom and gave an impatient rap with his knuckles on the -solid panel. - -A fretful "Come in!" from within invited him to enter. - -Rupert Kestyon was lying on the monumental four-post bedstead stretched -out flat on his back and staring moodily into the glowing embers of the -wood-fire which was burning in the wide-open grate. - -At sight of his cousin he jumped up to a sitting posture; a deep frown -of anger puckered his brow, and lent to the face a look of savagery. He -stared at Michael for awhile, more than astonished at this unlooked-for -appearance of his triumphant enemy; then he blurted out in his -overwhelming wrath: - -"Out of my house! Out of my house, you thief--you--out of here, I -say--the men are still my servants--and I am still master here." - -He put his feet to the ground, and made straightway for the door, but -Michael intercepted him, and gripping the young man's wrists with his -own strong fingers, he pushed him gently but firmly back. - -"Easy, easy, Coz!" he said with kindly firmness; "by our Lady, but 'tis -poor policy to harass the harbinger of good news." - -"Good news," quoth Rupert, who was boiling over with rage, "good news -from you, who have just robbed me of my inheritance!" - -"'Twas an even game, good Coz," retorted Michael good-naturedly. "My -father, my mother and I had all been robbed in the past, and left in -a more pitiable plight, believe me, than it was ever my intention to -leave you." - -"Prate not of your intentions, man. You used my money, the money I -myself did give you, in order to wage war against me, and press a claim -which you never would have made good but for that money which I gave -you." - -"Let us be fair, good Coz. I offered you the whole of that money back -on that memorable night in April at the inn of St. Denis." - -"Ay, on a ridiculous condition to which I cared not to agree." - -"The ridiculous condition," said Michael gravely, "consisted in your -acknowledging as your lawful wife, an exquisitely beautiful and -virtuous lady who already had claim on your loyalty." - -"The exquisitely beautiful lady," retorted Rupert with an ugly sneer, -"had, an I mistake not, already dragged her virtue in the wake of your -chariot, my friend." - -"Silence, man," said Michael sternly, "for you know that you lie." - -"Will you attempt to deny that your magnanimous offer at St. Denis was -made because you were in love with my wife?" - -"I'll not deny it, but what my feelings were in the matter concerned no -one but myself." - -"Mayhap, mayhap, but e'en you admit, good Coz," quoth Rupert with -obvious spite, "that a wife's conduct--" - -"Your wife's conduct, Cousin, is beyond reproach," broke in Michael -calmly, "as you know right full well." - -"Pardi! Since she is in love with you--" - -"That, too, is a lie--She loves no one but you." - -"Mayhaps she told you so?" queried the young man, as with a yawn of -ostentatious indifference he stretched himself out again--on a couch -this time, with one booted leg resting on the ground and tapping -it impatiently, whilst the other kicked savagely at an unoffensive -sofa-cushion, tearing its silk cover to shreds. - -"Yes!" replied Michael calmly, "she hath told me so." Then as the other -broke into a loud, sarcastic laugh, he continued earnestly: - -"Listen, Cousin, for what I am about to tell you concerns the whole -of your future. You are a penniless beggar now--nay, do not interrupt -me--I have well weighed every word which I speak, and have an answer -for each of your sneers--you are a penniless beggar--through no fault -of your own, mayhap, but I was a beggar, too, through none of mine. My -mother was left--almost to starve--alone in a God-forsaken village. For -years I kept actual starvation from her by courting wounds in order to -get blood-money. That has been your fault ever since the old uncle's -death, Cousin, for you knew that your kinswoman starved, and did -naught to help her. But that is over, let it pass! I was a wastrel, a -reprobate, a dissolute blackguard an you will! Had I been a better man -than I was, you had never dared to offer me money to dishonour a woman. -Let that pass too. But this I swear before God that I never meant to -dishonour the girl. I was ready to take her to my heart, to give her -all that she asked and more, the moment you in your wantonness had -cast her off. But she is too proud to take anything from me, and wants -nothing but her rights. Nay, you must listen to me patiently, till I -have told you all--She is loyal to you, with heart and soul and body, -and hath come to England to beg of you to render her justice." - -"Have I not told you, man," here broke in Rupert Kestyon, with a -blasphemous oath which momentarily drowned the quieter tones of the -other man, "have I not told you that were that accursed tailor and his -miserable wench to go on their knees to me, I would not have her--no, -a thousand times no--with the last penny left in my pocket I'll obtain -the decree of nullity, and marry the woman whom I love--" - -"If she'll have you, Cousin," quoth Michael drily, "now that you are a -beggar." - -In a moment Rupert was on his feet again, burning with rage, swearing -mad oaths in his wrath, and clenching his fists with a wild desire to -rush at Michael and grip him by the throat. - -"Nay, Coz," said the latter with a smile, "let us not fight like two -brawling villains. My fist is heavier than yours: and if you attack me, -I should have in defending mine own throat to punish you severely. But -why should you rage at me; I have come to you with good intent. Think -you, I would have left you to shift for yourself in this inhospitable -world? Great God, do I not know what it means to shift for oneself--the -misery, the wretchedness, the slow but certain degradation of mind and -of body? By all the saints, man, I would not condemn mine enemy to such -a life as I have led these past ten years." - -"You do the tailor's wench no good anyhow by preaching to me," growled -Rupert sulkily, feeling somewhat shamed. - -He sat down once more, in an attitude of dejection, resting his elbows -on his knees and burying his head in his hands. - -"I did not come to preach," rejoined Michael quietly. "A blackguard -like me hath no right to preach, and a blackguard like you, Cousin, is -not like to listen. Nay, man, we are quits; we have both of us a pretty -black mark against us in the book of records up there. 'Tis nigh on a -year ago now that you came to me with your proposals. They have had far -wider reaching consequences than any of us had dreamed of at the time. -When I made a proposal to you at the inn at St. Denis, you refused my -terms peremptorily--they were not sufficiently munificent, it seems, -to tempt you to right a great wrong. I felt my weakness, then. I had -no more to offer than just the return of your own money. You were a -rich man still and could afford to pay largely for the satisfaction of -a wanton caprice. But now matters stand differently; the money which -you so contemptuously flung away at St. Denis hath borne royal fruit. I -made that money work; I forced it to toil and slave to gain my purpose. -I have beggared you, Cousin, and made myself powerful and strong, -not because I hated you, not because I any longer desire dignity and -riches, but because I wanted to hold in my hand a bribe that would be -regal enough to tempt you." - -He paused awhile, with stern dark eyes fixed on the weak, somewhat -feminine face before him. Rupert Kestyon's vacillating pupils searched -his cousin's face, trying to divine his thoughts. He raised his head, -and rubbed his eyes, like a man wakened from sleep, and stared at -Michael as on a man bereft of his senses. - -"I do not understand," he stammered in his bewilderment. - -"Yet, 'tis simple enough," resumed Michael calmly. "The good tailor -whom you despise hath come over from France because he had heard -rumours that a charge of conspiracy against the king was being brought -against you by false informers." - -"Great God!" murmured Rupert, who at these words had suddenly become -pale, whilst great beads of perspiration rose upon his forehead. - -"Ay," said the other, "we know what that means, Cousin. Your name -amongst those implicated in this so-called Popish plot--think you -you'll escape the block? Hath any one escaped it hitherto who hath come -within the compass of the lies told by that scoundrel Oates?" - -"It's not true," murmured Rupert Kestyon. - -"What is not true? That the information hath been laid against you? -That, alas, is only too true. A man named Daniel Pye is the informant. -It seems that his former mistress--your own liege lady, Coz--had him -flogged for theft awhile ago. This has been his idea of revenge on -her--to bring you to disgrace or death, he cares not which, so long -as the desires of her life--which, it seems, are that she be wedded -to you--are frustrated. I have all this from the Attorney-General -whom I saw a quarter of an hour ago. Nay, there is no doubt that the -blackguard hath informed against you, and in a vastly circumstantial -manner. Come, you are a man, Coz," added Michael not unkindly, seeing -that Rupert was on the point of losing his wits in the face of the -awful prospect of this accusation, knowing full well its probable -terrible consequences, "and men in these troublous times must know how -to look on death in whatever grim guise it may appear." - -"But not that," murmured the younger man involuntarily, "surely not -that--" - -"I trust not," rejoined the other. "Have I not told you that I was the -bearer of good news?" - -"Good news!" - -"I own it sounds like irony, but, nevertheless, Coz, you'll presently -see that it is better than it seems. Let me resume, and tell you all -I know. Daniel Pye hath lodged his information against you. I have it -directly from Sir William Jones, who in his turn had it from Sir Edmund -Berry Godfrey. The villainous rogue says that on a certain day in April -he was at the hostelry of the 'Rat Mort' in Paris, in the company of -one Legros--tailor of Paris--and that there he overheard you talking -over with one of the ministers of the King of France, a plan whereby -Charles Rex is to be murdered, the Duke of York to be placed on the -English throne, and the whole of England sold to France and to Rome. -It is one of those impudent and dastardly lies which, alas, find ready -credence in our poor country just now. You remember Stailey's trial -on the information of that scoundrel Oates, who in spite of his own -obvious blunderings and contradictions was absolutely believed." - -"I know, I know," said Rupert Kestyon with a groan, "I am undone, -I know. Cousin, I must fly the country at once--I can reach Dover -to-night." - -"Nay, that you cannot, Cousin; your arrest is imminent. The warrant is -out and would take effect the moment you attempted to leave your house." - -"But in the name of God, is there no way out?" came in tones of tragic -despair from the unfortunate man. - -"Ay, that there is and a right simple one. The regal bribe, Cousin," -said Michael with a grim smile, "which I promised to offer you." - -"My life--do you mean my life? You have not the power to save my head -from the block. If I am arrested and brought to trial on one of these -infamous charges, the king himself could not save me." - -"No; the king could not--but I can." - -"How?" - -"On one condition." - -"I can guess it." - -"The same I put before you at St. Denis." - -Rupert Kestyon broke out into a laugh, a harsh, disagreeable laugh of -irony and of despair. - -"Man, the wench would not have me now. Am I not beggared and a fugitive -from justice? Her father would now be the first to take her from me. -She married the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx--" - -But Michael interrupted him, saying: - -"And after a brief sojourn with her in her old home in Paris you, as -Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, will bring your wife back as chatelaine -of Maries Castle, even before the last leaf has fallen from the oak." - -"But you--'tis you who--" - -"I stay here to meet the charge of high treason and conspiracy -preferred against the Earl of Stowmaries," said Michael very quietly. - -Like one in a dream, Rupert Kestyon passed a trembling hand over his -damp forehead. - -"You--you would--" he stammered. - -"Am I not the Earl of Stowmaries?" queried the other simply. "Was I -not actually in Paris on that memorable day in April? True, I am not -a Romanist by religion, but the travesty of justice which, alas, now -goes on under the guidance of Chief Justice Scroggs, will not ask too -many questions and will be satisfied as long as it has one more prey to -throw to the hungering intolerance of the mob. When I am gone, Cousin, -you are the rightful heir to the title and estates which the king's -mandate hath just conferred on me. You see how simple it is. It but -rests with you to accept or refuse." - -"But why--why should you do this?" murmured the other, whose brain -seemed almost reeling with this sudden transition from tragic despair -to the first glimmer of hope. "Why should you give your life--and--and -mayhap die such an awful death?" - -"Not for love of you, Coz; you may take an oath on that," said Michael -with a humorous twinkle in his eye and a quick smile which softened the -former stern expression of his face. - -"No, I know that," retorted the other, "'tis because you love her--my -wife." - -"My head will no longer grace my shoulders when you return with your -bride to England, Cousin; you have therefore no cause for jealousy." - -There was silence between the two men now. Rupert was of a truth too -dazed to understand fully all that his cousin's proposal would mean to -him. - -"But, by the Mass, man!" he said, "I cannot accept such a sacrifice." - -"'Twill not be the first act of cowardice that you'll have committed, -Cousin. This one will atone for the graver sin of a year ago. Take -what I offer you. Now that we are both face to face with the problem -of life or death, we can look back more soberly on the past. We have -both done an innocent woman an infinite wrong. Fate hath so shuffled -the cards that we can both atone; after all, methinks that mine is the -easier rôle. It is ofttimes so much simpler to die than to live. Nay, -Cousin, your part will not be altogether that of a coward, not even -though your path in life will henceforth be strewn with roses. She -loves you purely, loyally, good Coz. 'Tis your duty as a man to render -her happy. Above all, think not of me. Odd's fish, man, death and I -have looked at one another very straight many a time before--we are -friends, he and I." - -"But not such a death, Cousin--and the disgrace--" - -"Bah, even disgrace and I have held one another by the hand ere this. -And now before I leave you, Coz, your solemn word of honour that you -will make her happy, for by God!" he added more lightly, "methinks my -ghost would haunt you, if ever it saw her in tears." - -"Will you take my hand, Cousin?" asked Rupert in simple response, as he -somewhat timidly held his hand out to the other man. - -Michael took it without a word and thus at last were the hands of these -two men clasped for the first time in friendship. Kinsmen by blood, -Fate and human passions had estranged them from one another; yet it was -blood that told, else Rupert could not even for a moment--and despite -his love of life and joy in living--have accepted the sacrifice. - -Even now he hesitated. This taking of his cousin's hand, this tacit -acceptance of another man's life to save his own, wore an ugly look of -cowardice and of dishonour. Yet the young man was no coward. In open -fight in a good cause, his valour would have been equal to that of any -man, and he would on the field of honour have met death, no doubt, with -fortitude. But what loomed ahead was far different to the glamour, the -enthusiasm of courting death for honour. It meant disgrace and shame, -the trial, the ignominy: death dealt by the hand of the executioner in -sight of a jeering mob. It meant the torture of long imprisonment in a -gloomy, filthy prison; it meant the ill-usage of warders and menials, -insults from the judge, rough handling by the crowd. It meant, above -all, the supreme disgrace of desecration after death, the traitor's -head on Tyburn gates, the body thrown to the carrion, an ignominy from -which even the least superstitious shrank in overwhelming horror. -Ay, and there was worse shame, more supreme degradation still--for a -traitor's death was rendered hideous by every means that the cruelty of -man could invent. - -This picture stood on one side of Rupert Kestyon's vision, on the other -was only a hated marriage and the somewhat cowardly acceptance of -another man's sacrifice. - -Rupert Kestyon did hesitate, the while the insidious voice of Luxury -and of Ease whispered sophistries in his ear: - -"He does not do this for thee, man, but for the woman whom he loves. -Why shouldst thou stand in the way of thine own future comfort and -peace?" - -The battle was a trying one and whilst it lasted Rupert Kestyon felt -unwilling to meet his cousin's eyes. Yet had he done so, he would have -seen nothing in them save expectancy, and from time to time that same -humorous twinkle, as if the man derived amusement from the conflict -which was raging within the other's heart. - -As usual under these circumstances, Fate put her lean, sharp-pointed -finger into this grim pie, and it was the small incident which settled -the big issue in the end, for even as Rupert stood there, shamed, -hesitating, fighting the inward battle, there came a timid rap at the -door, and a serving-man entered, bearing a missive which was tied down -with green cord but otherwise left unsealed. - -"What is this?" asked Rupert Kestyon, who seemed to be descending from -the stars, in so dazed a manner did he gaze at the man who was handing -him the letter. - -"A man hath just brought it, my lord; he said that the message was -urgent but would not say from whence he came--he went away down the -street very quickly as soon as I had taken the letter from him." - -"Good; you may go." - -With hands still trembling from recent emotion, Rupert Kestyon, as -soon as the servant had gone, tore open the missive, on the outside -cover of which he had at once recognised the ill-formed scrawls which -emanated from the untutored pen of Mistress Peyton. It was addressed in -that same illiterate but deeply loved hand to Mister Rupert Kestyon, -erstwhile my lord of Stowmaries, and began: - - "_Honord Sir._ - - "This is to warn you that the villan Daniel Pye hath - informed against you, he did make brag of it befor my - servants to-day saying that you will be arrested for treson - and he be thus revenged upon me. i think it were best you - did not com to my house until this clowd has clered away. - But i am yr frend always." - -The lady had signed the missive with her name in full. The hot blood -rushed to Rupert Kestyon's face, for despite his own natural vanity -he could not help but see the callous indifference as to his own fate -which pierced through the fair Julia's carefully-worded warning. - -Without a word, however, he folded the letter and slipped it into the -inner pocket of his coat. Then he turned once more to his cousin. - -"Is there no other way?" he asked, whilst the weakness of his nature, -the vacillation peculiar to his character, was very apparent now, in -the ever-shifting expression of his face, the pains he took to avoid -looking Michael quite square in the face. - -"I see none now," rejoined the other. "Methinks, Coz, that you have -received confirmation of what I told you." - -"Yes. I have. Unless I leave the country to-day I shall be a prisoner -ere nightfall." - -"And Rose Marie, beyond all that we have made her suffer already, will -be left to mourn for you. To torture a woman then leave her desolate! -Nay, man, the shame of that were worse than a traitor's death." - -"When shall I see her?" - -"Anon, I think. Master Legros is on his way to you." - -"Then I'll to France to-day, taking my wife with me," said Rupert -resolutely, "and may God guard you, Cousin." - -"Nay, we'll not ask Him to do that just now," rejoined the other -with the same quaint smile; "rather may He protect her, and give her -happiness. We both owe her that, methinks." - -Thus was the compact sealed. It had of course been a foregone -conclusion all along, and Michael had never for a moment anticipated -that his cousin would refuse the sacrifice. - -The great game begun a year ago across the supper table of a tavern and -in the midst of a drunken orgy, ended here and now. Both the gamblers -lost all that they had staked. One was losing his self-respect, the -woman he loved with a capricious passion, the freedom which he had -coveted; the other was throwing away his all so that a fair-haired -girl, the cold ice-maid who had no love for him, should still be the -only winner in the end. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - - Are the skies wet because we weep, - Or fair because of any mirth? - Cry out; they are gods; perchance they sleep! - --SWINBURNE. - - -Rupert Kestyon--erstwhile styled my lord of Stowmaries and -Rivaulx--turned away from his house in Piccadilly with a comparatively -light heart. - -Comparatively only, because strive as he might he could not altogether -banish from his mind the last picture he had of his cousin, standing -all alone in the gloomy withdrawing room, tall, erect, perfectly -cheerful and placid, just as if he were awaiting a summons to some -festivity rather than to disgrace and to death. - -"It is best that I should remain here pending the execution of the -magistrate's warrant," Michael had explained simply. "It will then -be done without confusion of identity or difficulties of any kind. -The informer will probably not see me until I am on my trial, and, in -any case, I imagine that he will be just as content to tell his lies -against me as he would against you." - -Rupert, of a truth, did marvel not a little at his cousin's coolness -at such a moment; he himself felt a tingling of all his nerves and his -faculties seemed all numb in face of this terrible crisis through which -he was passing. He could not really imagine that any man could thus -calmly discuss the details of his own coming dishonour, of the awful -public disgrace, the physical and mental agony of a coming trial and -of ignominious death. Yet Michael was quite serene, even cheerful, and -ever and anon a whimsical smile played round the corners of his lips -when he caught the look of shame, of perturbation and renewed hesitancy -in the younger man's face. - -He himself was ever wont to decide quickly for good or ill, to map his -course of action and never to deviate from it. Many there were who knew -Michael Kestyon well, and who declared that he had no conscience, no -real sense of what was right or wrong. That may be so. Certain it is -that whatever part in life he chose to play, he never paused to think -whether morally it was right or wrong that he should play it. - -Even now he did not pause to think whether what he was doing was -sublime or infamous. He gave his honour, his name and his life not -in order to right a wrong, not in order to atone for a sin which he -himself had committed, but because his love for Rose Marie transcended -every other feeling within him, overshadowed every thought. She had -told him that her happiness lay there where duty and loyalty called. -He--poor fool!--imagined that she loved Rupert, her husband, from a -sense of duty mayhap, but loved him nevertheless. - -With an accusation of conspiracy threatening that man, an accusation -which could only find its complement in a traitor's death, Rose -Marie could not be aught but unhappy. So thought Michael to himself, -whereupon the giving of name, of honour and of life to the man whom -Rose Marie loved, was as natural to Michael as to draw his breath. - -The fact that this sacrifice meant dishonour and shame was no pang. -Michael cared less than naught for public opinion. To himself he -would not stand disgraced. He had weighed his action, looked at it -from every point; had in his mind's eye seen the public trial, the -ignominious condemnation, all the disgrace which pertains to such a -death. He had seen it, and decided without the slightest hesitation. - -All this Rupert could not of course understand. In this he was -different to Michael, that he felt poignant remorse for his own action, -the while he had really not the moral power to reverse his decision. -Had the acceptance of another man's heroic sacrifice to be done again, -he again would have accepted it, and again have bitterly repented, -hesitated, repented and accepted again. He would have understood -Michael's attitude better if there were any prospect of an admiring -world knowing subsequently the truth of the sacrifice, of there being a -chance of the public recognition of the heroism, even after death. But -here there was no such prospect. For Michael it would be humiliation, -and nothing but humiliation, shame and disgrace even beyond the grave. - -Therefore, the young man was over-glad when--the preparations for his -journey being all complete--he at last turned his back on the old house -in Piccadilly. All the servants had been enjoined that if any one came -thither and asked for my lord of Stowmaries the new and only real lord -of Stowmaries would receive the visitor, whatever his errand might be. -Then Rupert took his leave of his cousin; not a word more was said on -the subject of the future, nor did the young man attempt to express any -gratitude. I do not think that he felt any in the true sense of the -word, and Michael's attitude was not one that called forth any outward -show of sentiment. An hour later Rupert Kestyon had finally turned his -steps in the direction of Fleet Street; soon he found himself inside -the yard of the Bell Inn, asking if he might have speech with Master -Legros of Paris, lately come to the hostelry. - -There was something almost comical in good Papa Legros' expression -of surprise when he realised who his visitor was. Rupert's face was -of course unfamiliar to him, and it took him quite a little time -to collect his thoughts, in view of the happy prospect which this -unexpected visit had called forth before him. - -His kindly heart, ever prone to see good, even where none existed, -quickly attributed to this erring sinner the saving clause of loyal -repentance. Knowing nothing of what had occurred between the cousins, -Papa Legros naturally sprang to the conclusion that the young man, -tardily smitten with remorse, had come of his own accord to make -reparation, and the worthy tailor was only too ready to smooth the path -of atonement for him as much as lay in his power. - -"Milor," he began, as soon as he understood who Rupert was, and -stretching out a cordial hand to him. - -"Nay! I am no longer milor now," broke in Rupert Kestyon with a slight -show of petulance. "My Cousin Michael is Lord of Stowmaries now. I am -only a poor suppliant of high birth and low fortunes who would humbly -ask if your daughter--my wife before God--is still prepared to link her -fate to mine." - -"My daughter, milor--sir--will answer herself," rejoined the tailor -with at least as much dignity as a high-born gentleman would have -displayed under the like circumstances; then he went to the door, and -opening it called to Rose Marie. - -Rupert Kestyon, despite the deep-rooted antagonism which he felt -against this woman to whom now his future was irrevocably bound, was -forced to own to himself that Fate tempered her stern decrees with a -goodly amount of compensation. - -Rose Marie's beauty was one which sorrow doth not mar; in her case -it had even enhanced it, by etherealising the childlike contour of -the face, and giving the liquid blue eyes an expression such as the -mediæval artists of old lent to the saints whom they portrayed. She -came forward with quiet self-possession, through which shone an air -of simple confidence and of sublime forgiveness. Though she had not -expected Rupert's coming, yet she showed no surprise, only pleasure -that he had so nobly forestalled her, and saved her the humiliation of -coming to him as a suppliant. - -Rupert Kestyon was young, and his senses were quickly enflamed at sight -of so much loveliness, and though inwardly he railed at chance, that -had not made of this exquisite woman a great lady, yet when she so -graciously extended her hand to him, he kissed it as deferentially as -he would that of a duchess. - -"Madam," he said, as soon as she was seated, and he standing before -her, "we are told in the Scriptures that there is more joy in Heaven -for the conversion of one sinner than for the continued goodness of one -hundred holy men. It had always struck me ere this that this dictum was -somewhat unfair on the holy men, but now I have come to be thankful for -this disposition of Heaven's rejoicings, since you--who no doubt have -come straight from there--will mayhap show some consideration to the -repentant sinner who hath so miserably wronged you, and who now craves -humbly for pardon at your feet." - -He was very much pleased with himself for this speech, accompanied as -it was with pretence of bending the knee. He felt sure that Michael -would be pleased with him for it, nor did it cost him much to make it, -for of a truth Rose Marie was exquisitely beautiful. - -"By Gad," he murmured to himself, "meseems that I am ready to fall in -love with the wench." - -"My lord," she said quietly, meeting with perfect impassiveness the -sudden gleam of admiration which lit up his eyes, "'tis not for -me--your wife--to judge you or your conduct. The wrong which you did to -me, I do readily forgive, so be it that my father and mother, whom you -have wronged as deeply as you did mine own self, are equally ready to -forget all that is past." - -"An my lord is willing to make amends," said Papa Legros with an -involuntary sigh. He thought of Michael and how different he had looked -when first he had wooed Rose Marie; Michael with the handsome proud -head, the merry smile, the twinkling dark eyes so full of fun at times, -at others so earnest and so infinitely tender. Papa Legros sighed, even -as he felt that rectitude was a hard taskmistress, and that 'twas a -vast pity Rose Marie was quite such an angel of goodness. But Rupert's -impatient voice broke in on these thoughts. - -"I pray you," he said, "do not persist in calling me my lord. My -Cousin Michael is and has always been, it seems, the rightful Lord of -Stowmaries. I am a poor man, now--" - -"And my father, sir, is rich enough that your poverty need not fret -you," said Rose Marie quietly. "An you'll have me as your wife--" - -"It is my duty as well as my pleasure, Madam," he broke in decisively, -"to ask you if you'll permit me to lay my submission at your feet." - -"You have but to command me, sir," she rejoined coldly. - -"An unfortunate incident, of which I understand you have some inkling, -will force me to leave England for a time." - -"We know that a false charge has been preferred against you, sir, and -we came to England--I trust not too late--to warn you of your danger." - -"Nay, not too late, Madam; as you see I am still free. I had warnings -from other quarters yet am equally grateful for your pains." - -"The cloud will blow over," she said stiffly. "When do you propose to -go to France?" - -"To-night an it please you, Madam," he replied. "Will you journey in my -company?" - -"If you so desire it, sir." - -She rose, and with the same calm dignity prepared to go. Rupert's -glowing eyes followed her graceful movements and dwelt with unconcealed -pleasure on every line of her young figure, which the somewhat stiff -mode of the day could not altogether disguise. A warm tinge of colour -flew to her cheeks when, raising her eyes to his for a moment, she -encountered his bold look; then when the colour flew as swiftly as it -came she looked pale and frail as the snowdrops to which Michael had -ever loved to compare her. - -But beyond that quick blush, she showed no sign of emotion. Her -almost mediæval sense of duty to her husband caused her to accept his -every word, his every look, without a thought of censure or even of -rebellion. She had so schooled her sensibilities that they were her -slaves, she their absolute mistress--the rigid and mechanical being -come into existence from out the ashes of her past happy self in order -to right the great wrong committed by another. - -Obedient to her lord's mute but peremptory request, she gave him her -hand, and accepted his kiss as she would have done his scorn, coldly -and humbly, for her father stood there and watched her, and she would -not let him see what this interview was costing her in agony of mind, -in humiliation of her entire soul. For, look you, when she left Paris -in order to offer herself a willing sacrifice on the altar of filial -love, she had steeled her pride against her husband's scorn, but not -against his capricious passion, and now that his boldly admiring glance -swept over her face and form, she felt a wild, mad longing to flee--to -hide her sorrow which had suddenly turned to shame, and to put the -whole world between herself and the pollution of her husband's kiss. - -Her father's voice recalled her to herself, and even Rupert Kestyon -had not noted the swiftly-flying look of agony which had momentarily -darkened her eyes. - -"Sir," said Papa Legros now, with firmer decision than he had hitherto -displayed, "you see that both my daughter and myself are over-ready -to forget the past. You are young, sir, and methinks sinned more from -thoughtlessness than from any love of evil. Rose Marie is ready to -follow you, withersoever you may command. She is your wife before God, -and directly we are in Paris we will ask His blessing in confirmation -of your union. Monseigneur will not refuse to perform the ceremony--the -other, alas, whereat a miscreant held my daughter's hand, was but a -mockery--Monseigneur will pass it over. 'Twas he advised me to make a -final appeal to your honour, and I thank God on my knees, sir, that -with you rests the glory of having made such noble amends entirely -of your own accord. I pray you only--and herein you must forgive a -father's anxiety--I pray you to place in my hands the final pledge of -your good faith towards my daughter." - -"What may that be, sirrah?" quoth Rupert, whilst the first show of -arrogance suddenly pierced through his borrowed armour of outward -deference. - -"The decree of His Holiness the Pope," rejoined the tailor quietly, -"annulling your marriage with my daughter. An you mean loyally by her -you will place the mandate in my hands." - -For a second or two only Rupert seemed to hesitate. This simple giving -over of a paper meant the final surrender of his will, the giving up -of all for which he had planned and intrigued; the acknowledgment -that Fate was stronger than his desire, God's decree greater than the -schemes of men. That mandate once out of his hands, he could never get -it back again, nor ever obtain another. It was real, tangible finality; -therefore did he hesitate, but the next moment he had looked once -more on Rose Marie, and the natural primitive man in him, the shallow -nature, the masterful senses, caused him to shrug his shoulders in -indifference. Bah, one woman after all was as good as another; this one -loved him in her curious, cold way, and---by Gad!--she was d--d pretty. -So Rupert Kestyon delved in the deep pocket of his surcoat and drew out -therefrom a parchment to which was appended an enormous seal that bore -the arms and triple crown of His Holiness the Pope. - -This he handed to Papa Legros. - -The latter took it and glanced at its contents; one phrase therein -caused a dark frown to appear on his brow, and a flash of anger to -rush to his cheeks. It related to the misconduct of Rose Marie, the -daughter of one Armand Legros, master tailor of Paris, in consequence -of which His Holiness did grant dispensation to Rupert Kestyon, Earl -of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, to contract a marriage with another woman, -his former marriage being null and void. - -For a brief moment good Papa Legros hated the young reprobate before -him with all the strength of which his kind heart was capable; for a -moment he longed to throw that lying parchment back into the teeth of -the miscreant who had dared to put an insult on record against the -purest saint that had ever adorned her sex. The good man's hands shook -as they held the paper, and during that brief moment Rupert experienced -a hideous sensation of fear. If Rose Marie rejected him now, would -Michael withdraw from the sacrifice which he was prepared to make? - -But that anxiety was short-lived. With a deep sigh of resignation, and -a firm compression of the lips, Master Legros looked the young man -straight in the face. - -"What is past, is past," he said, as if in answer to the other's -thought, "and I am satisfied." - -But he did not tear the parchment up, as Rupert had at first thought -that he meant to do. He folded it up with hands still slightly shaking -from the inward struggle which had just taken place within his simple -soul, and then slipped it into the breast pocket of his coat. - - - - - CHAPTER XL - - So many worlds, so much to do, - So little done, such things to be, - How know I what had need of thee, - For thou wert strong as thou wert true? - --TENNYSON. - - -It was later in the afternoon and Master Legros and his daughter had -finished their preparations for the return journey. Strangely enough, -papa's heart was not as glad as it should have been, considering that -the object of his visit to England had been attained, and that he -had reached the pinnacle of his desire much more easily than he had -ever dared to contemplate, for he had reached it without the cost of -humiliation to his child or rebuff to himself. - -Nevertheless, the kindly heart was like a dead weight in the good man's -breast, even though Rose Marie did her best to seem cheerful, talking -ever of the joy of seeing maman again, and at times quite serenely of -her own future. - -"Thy husband looks kind, Rose Marie," said papa tentatively, whilst his -eyes, rendered keen through the intensity of his affection, strove to -pierce through the mask of impassiveness wherewith his child tried to -hide her thoughts. - -"He also seems greatly to admire thee," he added with an involuntary -display of paternal pride. - -But has any man--has even the most devoted of fathers--ever succeeded -in reading a woman's thoughts on the subject of another man. - -All that Papa Legros thought at this moment was that Rose Marie looked -very pale and that a shiver seemed to go through her as if she had the -ague. Mayhap she was over-tired, certainly she was unstrung. He himself -felt uncommonly as if he would like to cry. - -In the early part of the afternoon he persuaded Rose Marie to lie -awhile on her bed and rest. "Milor"--for so he still persisted in -calling Rupert Kestyon in his mind--would be here at six o'clock; his -coach would then be ready for the journey to Dover. It was now little -more than three. - -Rose Marie obeyed willingly. She was very tired and she longed to be -all alone. Papa declared his intention of going out for a walk and of -returning within an hour. - -A great longing had seized him to see Michael once again. The worthy -man cursed himself for his folly and for his weakness but he felt -that he could not go away from England without grasping once more -that slender, kindly hand, which he once used to look on as that of a -dearly-loved son. - -Papa Legros did not see the reason why--now that all difficulties had -been duly planed--he and Michael should not remain friends. He had more -than a vague suspicion, too, that "milor's" repentant attitude was due -to Michael's persuasion. - -Asking his way from the passers-by as he went, he soon found himself -once again before the house in Soho. But his disappointment was bitter -when he heard that my lord was from home, and no one knew when he would -return. - -Sadder of heart then, Master Legros retraced his steps towards the -Bell Inn. On the way he had wiped many a tear which had fallen down -his cheeks, blaming himself severely the while for this display of -weakness. But--strange though it may seem--this failure in seeing -Michael and in hearing his cheery voice speak the "God-speed" had -weighed the good tailor's spirits down with an oppressive weight which -seemed almost like a foreboding. - -In the yard of the inn, Master Legros encountered quite a crowd of -gaffers. Some great excitement seemed to be in the air; they talked -volubly to one another, with that stolid absence of gesture, that -burying of hands in breeches pockets which always makes an Englishman's -excitement seem so unconvincing to the foreign observer. In the centre -of the yard, a heavy coach--a note of bright canary yellow in the midst -of all the sober greys and drabs around--stood ready, with ostlers at -the leaders' heads, the horses champing their bits and impatiently -pawing the cobblestones. The driver, with thick coat unbuttoned -displaying an expanse of grey woolen shirt, was quenching his thirst -inside the vehicle; obviously it was not his intention to join actively -in the babel of voices which went on all round him, although the coach -itself and the horses seemed special objects of curiosity, since a -crowd of gaffers surrounded it as closely as the impatient horses -themselves would allow. - -Master Legros made his way through the crowd, trying to catch a chance -phrase or so, which might give him the keynote to all this unwonted -bustle. The words "Papist" and "arrest," which he understood, caught -his ear repeatedly, also the name "Stowmaries," invariably accompanied -with a loud imprecation. - -Feeling naturally diffident through his want of knowledge of the -language, he was somewhat timorous of asking questions, but hurried up -to his room, having bidden the barman downstairs take a bottle of wine -and two glasses up to his room. - -He found Rose Marie sitting quietly in the armchair, pensive but -otherwise serene. To the father's anxious eyes it seemed as if she -had been crying, but she returned his kiss of greeting with clinging -fondness, and assured him that she felt quite rested and ready for the -journey. - -"My lord" had arranged that his coach should take them by night journey -to Dover, and thence immediately to Calais if the packet-boat was -plying; for "my lord" seemed in a vast hurry to get across to France as -soon as may be, and Rose Marie herself was conscious of a great longing -to put the sea between herself and this land which called forth so many -bitter memories. - -When the serving-man brought the wine, Legros asked his daughter to -question him as to the excitement which reigned in the yard. - -"Oh!" explained the man, who was eager enough to talk, "'tis only -the news of the arrest of another of these d--d Papists. They do -conspire, you know, to murder the king, and it seems that this time -they've arrested another noble lord, no less a person than my lord of -Stowmaries." - -"My lord of Stowmaries!" ejaculated Legros in utter dismay, for he had -partly guessed, partly understood, what the man was saying; "surely it -cannot be--" - -"When and where did this occur?" queried Rose Marie peremptorily. - -"About an hour ago, at his lordship's house in Piccadilly," replied the -man. "They do say that the miscreant hath confessed, directly he saw -the musketeers. He was scared, no doubt, and blurted out the truth. -By the Lord! If the people of England had their way, a man like that -should be broken on the wheel and the fires of Smithfield should be -revived to rid the country of such pestilential vermin." - -Fortunately Master Legros did not understand all that the man said, -else his wrath had known no bounds. As it was he had only a vague idea -that the man was being insolent, and he shouted an angry command of: - -"Enough of this! Get out, sirrah!" which the man readily obeyed, being -over-satisfied that he had annoyed and even frightened these foreign -Papists, who, no doubt, had come to England only to brew mischief. - -Directly the door had closed behind the serving-man, Rose Marie said -decisively: - -"Father dear, we must to my husband's house at once, and find out what -has happened." - -"He seemed to make so light of the danger which threatened him, when -he was here just now, that I had begun to think that blackguard Daniel -Pye was naught but a clumsy blackmailer. And yet, milor--I--I mean our -milor--he thought the matter grave, and went forth very hurriedly to -warn his kinsman." - -"Father dear, I would give anything to have further news," said Rose -Marie, who was trembling with agitation. "Do, I pray you, let us go -forth and try and find out something more." - -But even as with feverish movements, she began putting on a cloak and -hood, the door opened and Rupert Kestyon entered. Rose Marie stared at -him as if she had seen a ghost, and Master Legros murmured in complete -bewilderment: - -"You--you, my lord--then, thank God!--it is not true." - -"What is not true?" queried the young man, who also seemed labouring -under grave agitation, for his cheeks were almost grey in colour, and -his lips twitched painfully as he tried to control the tremor of his -voice. - -"That you have been arrested, my lord!" said Legros. "They told us that -you had been arrested for treason and--" - -"They told you lies, no doubt," broke in Rupert roughly, "as you see I -am safe and sound. The horses are put to," he added with obvious want -of control over his own impatience. "I pray you, Madam, to descend as -soon as you are ready, and you, too, good Master, and to enter the -coach without parleying with the crowd. You need have no fear; they -will not molest you." - -"We are ready, milor--I mean sir," said Papa Legros, who was taken with -an exceptionally severe attack of his usual fussiness. "I pray you give -your arm to my daughter--I will follow close on your heels." - -"My lord," it seems, was so agitated that he even forgot his good -manners, and curtly bidding the others not to linger, he darted out of -the room, and had even disappeared down the corridor before Rose Marie -had had time to collect her little bits of hand luggage. - -She went back to the window which gave on the covered balcony that -on this floor ran all round the house, overlooking the yard. The -excitement down below was evidently reaching fever pitch; every one was -rushing toward the gate and the yard itself was for the moment left -deserted. Only one ostler remained at the horses' heads, and his head, -too, was turned in the direction of the gates. The driver had emerged -from the depths of the vehicle and together with his mate was hoisting -the Legros' luggage into the boot. He, too, however, craned his neck -from time to time, trying to see beyond the dense knot of human heads -which totally obstructed both the view and the passage out into Fleet -Street. - -Rose Marie, feeling still strangely perturbed, her heart beating -with a nameless fear, which she could not herself understand, threw -open the window and stepped out onto the balcony. Rupert Kestyon was -standing just below, giving impatient directions to his men anent the -disposition of the luggage. The sound of the opening window and of Rose -Marie's footsteps above, caused him to look up and at sight of her he -uttered a loud oath. It was evident that he had completely lost all -control over himself. - -"You have run it too late, d--n you!" he shouted roughly. "Now we -cannot get through Fleet Street till after that accursed mob hath -dispersed." - -Rose Marie with lips compressed and brows closely puckered withdrew -out of his sight, blushing with shame at the thought that a group of -serving-girls who stood also on the balcony not far from her, giggling -and chattering, should have heard her husband's rough words. - -But the wenches were evidently too much engrossed with their desire to -see something of what was going on beyond the hostelry gates to pay -much heed to the pale, foreign miss and to her doings, and even as Rose -Marie prepared once more to join her father, she heard one girl say -excitedly: - -"He won't be passing by for another few minutes--we'll have time to run -to the gates--" - -"No! no! Cannot you hear the shouts? They are bringing him along now," -cried another, holding with both hands to the iron railing, the while -her companion tried to drag her away. - -"I can just see over the heads of the crowd," said another. "Here they -come! Here they come! Can you hear them all hooting?" - -And she herself indulged in a vicious "Boo! Down with the traitor! Down -with the Papists!" - -Beyond the gates, the crowd, invisible to Rose Marie, was evidently -giving vent to its excitement. As the wench had said, they were hooting -lustily. Shouts of "Death to the traitors!" mingled with obvious cries -of terror and of pain following immediately on the clatter of horses' -hoofs on the mud-covered street. - -"It's a closed vehicle!" said one of the girls on the balcony in -obvious disappointment. - -"And you can't see even that with all that pack of soldiery." - -"Boo! Boo! Death to the Papist!" screamed the other girls in unison. - -Just for a moment then in the small space between the top of the -archway, and above the heads of the crowd, Rose Marie caught sight of -a closed hackney coach, being driven at slow pace and surrounded by -an escort of musketeers. The hooting, hissing, and other expressions -of hatred and opprobrium became almost deafening for the moment, and -through the shouts of "The rope, the rack, the stake for the Papists!" -could distinctly be heard the name, "Stowmaries!" accompanied by loud -imprecations, whilst a shower of evil-smelling refuse was hurled at the -vehicle by the enthusiastic staff of the Bell Inn, congregated at its -gates. - -Rose Marie felt sick with horror. Gradually that fear which had -hitherto been nameless, gained more tangible shape. She peeped down -again and saw that her husband had taken refuge inside his coach. - -Then she understood. - -It was Michael who had been arrested--the only Lord of Stowmaries, as -he himself had proudly said awhile ago. - -Did some inkling of the real truth of the case rise in her heart then -and there, it were difficult to say. There is a strange telepathy -which exists in nature and which warns the sensitive mind of the -danger, the misfortune of another being. It was only a purely natural, -human instinct which prompted her to ask the serving-wenches a final -question, the answer to which she knew already. - -"What is all the excitement about?" she asked, turning to the group of -girls and steadying her voice as much as she could. "Who is it they are -taking past in that closed carriage?" - -"My lord of Stowmaries, Mistress," said one of the girls. "He is one of -the Papists that do conspire against the king. He'll hang for sure--I -wish they'd burn the lot as they did in the olden days." - -"But 'tis my lord Stowmaries' coach that is standing here below," said -Rose Marie; "he is safe and sound within." - -"Nay! I know naught about that," quoth the girl decisively; "'tis my -lord Stowmaries they are taking to prison sure enough, and 'twill be my -lord of Stowmaries' head that'll be on Tyburn gate before many days are -over, and I for one'll go to see him beheaded, if I can get a holiday -on that day." - - - - - CHAPTER XLI - - In the silence of the night, - How we shiver with affright - At the melancholy menace of their tone! - For every sound that floats - From the rust within their throats - Is a groan. - --EDGAR ALLAN POE. - - -Rose Marie had told her father all that she feared, all that she, alas, -knew to be true. - -"We cannot go now, Father dear," she said with quivering voice, whilst -her eyes burning with hot tears, looked down appealingly at her father, -"we must surely hear what becomes of him." - -"Nay, my child," said Papa Legros with a heavy sigh, "what can we do by -remaining here? Your duty is to your husband. No doubt he, too, fears -for his life, and would wish to leave this country ere suspicion fall -upon him." - -"But Father, methinks you do not understand. I know not if there -hath been conspiracy or not, but this I do know, that the charge was -preferred against my husband. Then why is my lord arrested?" - -"I know not, my jewel," replied Papa Legros, deeply perplexed and -miserable. "England seems to be a queer country just now. Mayhap all -these gentlemen do conspire. God knows there always have been many -conspiracies against our own most high and most Catholic King Louis, -the ever victorious." - -And Master Legros doffed his felt hat in token of deep respect. - -"Thy husband waits, child," added the worthy man resignedly; "'tis him -thou must obey." - -Even as he spoke, Rupert's steps were heard once more along the -corridor. He entered, still looking miserably anxious, but at sight of -Rose Marie a blush of shame-facedness overspread his pale cheeks. - -"Your pardon, Mistress," he said, striving to speak quietly, "methinks -the coast is clear now. Will you deign to descend?" - -He offered Rose Marie his arm. She felt like some wild creature -trapped, looking round her with wild, terrified eyes as if for a means -of escape. Her father gave her an appealing look, and Rupert reiterated -his request with more distinct command in his tone. His eyes, wherein -wrath, fear, and a certain look of shame were obviously fighting for -mastery, seemed to dare her to disobey. He was her master after all, -and a master of her own choosing. The bars of that cage against which -she would henceforth for ever bruise her heart were fashioned by her -own hands. - -"Come, Mistress, I wait," said Rupert, and with a gesture which was -almost rough in its peremptoriness, he took her hand and slipped it -under his arm. - -Papa Legros gathered the sundry small bags and parcels which formed his -own and his daughter's hand luggage, and then he followed the young -couple out of the room. - -But Rose Marie once across the threshold and in the corridor soon -disengaged her arm. This masterful appropriation of her person and -of her will caused her an instinctive pang of fear. Good God! Was -she going to hate this man whom through an impulse of loyalty and -righteousness she had openly acknowledged as her lord, and to whom -she almost wilfully had surrendered her whole young life, her hopes -of happiness, her every thought and wish? Now with every look of -unfettered admiration, with every word of command, he roused her numbed -spirits into rebellion. Even now she could not bear to take his arm, -she could not bear the touch of his hand on hers as he began to lead -her along the corridor, as if already she were part of his goods and -chattels, the obedient servant of his caprice. - -When she withdrew her hand from his, he looked inquiringly on her -face, then realising her motive, guessing her repugnance, he laughed a -forced, ironical laugh and said with obvious intent to wound: - -"Nay, Madam! I'm vastly sorry that even in this dark passage you cannot -fancy that I am my cousin Michael. But you made your choice yourself -'twixt him and me, and therefore pray understand that 'tis too late to -repent." - -He walked, however, on ahead, keeping a little in front of her, and -soon reached the door which gave on the yard. - -His coach stood there all in readiness, the driver on the box holding -the ribbons, the groom standing by the carriage holding open the door. -But between the coach and the door through which Rupert with Rose Marie -and Papa Legros had just stepped forth into the yard, there stood a -group composed of three musketeers, one of whom was a little in advance -of the others, and apparently in command. - -Master Savage, landlord of the Bell Inn, was in close and voluble -converse with the soldier, as Rupert with a peremptory voice called to -his own driver to pull up a little closer. - -At the sound, Master Savage turned, and the musketeer now came up to -the little party in the door. - -"Which of you two gentlemen," he said, looking from Rupert Kestyon to -Master Legros, "is Master Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty the -King of France?" - -Papa Legros, hearing his name thus mentioned, instinctively stepped -forward, more fussy than ever, poor man, wondering indeed if some fresh -misfortune was not coming his way. Rupert, pale to the lips, stood -mutely staring at the musketeer. - -"By order of His Majesty the King!" resumed the soldier now addressing -Legros, and presenting a paper to him, which the worthy tailor, -hopelessly bewildered and not a little frightened, now took from him. - -"My orders are to intimate to Master Legros, tailor-in-chief to His -Majesty the King of France, that he is not to leave his present place -of abode without express permission from the Lord Chief Justice of -England." - -"Qu'est ce qu'il dit?" queried Papa Legros, turning helplessly toward -his daughter. - -"That we may not leave England just now," she said, feeling not a -little bewildered, too, for this was so unexpected. "Let me see that -paper, Father dear." - -Rupert, whom this incident had thrown into a well-nigh unbearable state -of fear, had kept silent all this while, longing yet not daring to -question the officer closer. But the latter seemed in no way concerned -with him, his errand was apparently solely confined to these peremptory -orders to Master Legros. - -Rose Marie read the paper through, then she looked inquiringly on -Rupert. - -"What are we to do, sir," she asked coldly. - -"You have no option," he said, as he took hold of her wrist and quietly -drew her back under the shadow of the doorway. - -"There is no doubt," he continued in an agitated whisper, "that if -your father attempts to disobey the order, he would be stopped more -forcibly, and his situation would then become more uncomfortable. Does -this paper state on what grounds your father is thus forbidden to go -away?" - -"Yes," she replied calmly; "it says that by order of the king, Master -Legros, tailor of Paris, is required to give evidence on behalf of the -Crown in the forthcoming trial of the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, -for conspiracy and treason." - -"He is summoned as a witness. He has no option--he must stay--they -would stop him if he attempted to go," reiterated Rupert Kestyon, whose -trembling voice scarce contrived to pass from his dry throat through -his parched lips. - -"Then with your permission," she rejoined, "I will stay with my father." - -"As you please," he said hurriedly. - -Rose Marie bent her head in token of farewell. She felt more like a -puppet moving and acting mechanically than like a sentient woman. -She suffered such an agony of mind and heart at thought of what had -occurred, what she visualized and what she guessed, that the mere act -of speaking and of moving seemed no part of her present existence. -She was called upon to act and to decide for herself and for her -father--but as Rupert Kestyon very properly said, there was no option. -Nor had Rose Marie anything to fear for her father; it was difficult -for her to imagine how the present situation had come about, and why -the King of England should desire Master Legros to be a witness for the -Crown against the Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, accused of conspiracy -and treason, nor did she quite understand what being a witness -for the Crown really meant, but for her own part she was conscious -of an intense sense of relief when she saw Rupert Kestyon--her -husband--turning on his heel, and without looking either to right or -left, making his way somewhat hurriedly to his coach. - -She went back to her father's side, and taking his arm in order to -assure him that all was well, she turned to the musketeer. - -"Sir," she said to him, "are there any further orders which you have to -transmit to my father?" - -"No, Mistress, none," replied the soldier. "Your father must understand -that he is free to come and go as he pleases, so long as he remains in -the city. Strong measures would only be taken if he attempted to go." - -"My father understands all that, sir," she said with a haughty little -toss of the head; "though we are strangers, we respect the laws of -your country just as we in France would expect you to respect ours. -My father understands the order as set forth in this paper, and he -will not leave this city until His Majesty the King of England hath no -longer any need of his services. Come, Father dear," she whispered, in -her own mother tongue and with gentle pressure trying to lead the good -man away, "I will explain everything to you when we are alone." - -"But thy husband, child!" urged Papa Legros, whose bewilderment had -reached its veriest climax. "Thy husband!" - -Without giving direct reply, Rose Marie pointed to the coach, just -ahead of them both, in the middle of the yard. Papa Legros, following -his daughter's glance, saw Rupert Kestyon in the act of stepping into -the carriage, and the groom closing the door in after him. - -"He goes to France without us, Father dear," she said simply. - -And for the first time for many days now, a real smile lit up the -girl's eyes, and chased away the miserable, haggard look from her young -face. - -She bowed graciously to the musketeer officer, who saluted her with -utmost deference. Then she led her father away. The soldier's eyes -followed her graceful form with undisguised admiration. At the door she -turned back and gave him a final little bow of farewell. - -For Rose Marie in the midst of her great sorrow and of her agonizing -fear, looked on that young musketeer as a deliverer and was grateful to -him, too, for the good news which he had brought. - - - - - CHAPTER XLII - - This year knows nothing of last year - To-morrow has no more to say - To yesterday. - --SWINBURNE. - - -That same afternoon, and at about the same time as Rupert Kestyon's -coach swung out of the gates of the Bell yard, Sir John Ayloffe -presented himself at his kinswoman's house in Holborn Row. - -He had come in answer to an urgent and peremptory summons, and had made -all haste, seeing that he had just heard the news that it was Michael -Kestyon who had been arrested for treason, and not the fair Julia's -erstwhile faithful adorer, Rupert. Visions of that exceedingly pleasant -£12,000 which he had thought were lost to him for ever when Michael -obtained the peerage of Stowmaries, once more rose before his mind's -eye, surrounded with the golden halo of anticipatory hope. - -Of a truth, if Michael was condemned and executed for treason--and -there was but little doubt of that, taking the temper of Parliament and -people on the subject of the hellish Popish plots--then young Rupert -would come into his own again very quickly and there was no reason why -the pleasing scheme of the fair Julia's marriage with her faithful -admirer should not reach success after all. - -To Cousin John's supreme astonishment, however, instead of finding -his beautiful cousin in gleeful excitement at the good news, he saw -her lying on a sofa in her tiny boudoir with her fair head buried in -billows of lace cushions, and on the verge of hysterics. - -She was clutching a letter in her hand, and when Cousin John approached -her, with that diffidence peculiar to the male creature in face of -feminine tears, she held out the paper mutely towards him. - -It was a letter signed Rupert Kestyon. Cousin John quickly ran his -eye over its contents. In flowery and elegant language and with many -reproaches directed at the cruel beauty who that very morning had -struck him to the heart at a moment when she believed him to be in the -most dire distress, the writer explained that Fate would now part him -from his beautiful Julia for ever: - -"I go to France this night," he added, "with the wife whom God gave me -eighteen years ago, and to whom I now see that 'tis my duty to cleave. -You, I feel, did never love me, else you had not sent me that cruel -message this morning." - -He was his Julia's adoring and ever-faithful servant, but there was no -mistaking the tone of the letter: he was leaving her for good and all. - -Silently Cousin John folded up the letter and handed it back to his -cousin. There was nothing more to be said. He could only console and -even in this he was unsuccessful, for his own heart was heavy at -thought of that £12,000 which now could never be his. - -Mistress Peyton had by the selfishness of her own ambition allowed -the trump card in the great gamble of life to slip through her dainty -fingers. The incident was closed; the tailor's wench had won the stakes -in the end. - -No wonder that Julia fell into hysterics; indeed, indeed, Fate's irony -had been over-cruel. It seemed as if every one of her schemes turned -wantonly to a weapon against her most cherished desires. - -Cousin John was vastly puzzled. He could not understand what had -induced Rupert to make amends to the wife in order to repudiate whom he -had spent a fortune, and lost his all. But when, anon, he heard through -public news-criers that Michael had confessed to the charge preferred -against him, and when his keen mind began to think over in detail the -various events in connection with the arrest, he arrived at a pretty -shrewd guess as to what had occurred between the cousins. Remembering -the incidents of that memorable evening at St. Denis and Michael's -offer to Stowmaries then, he bethought himself that men who are great -blackguards are capable of strange things when they love a woman. -Whereupon good Sir John shook his head and ceased his wanderings in the -realms of conjecture, for he had come across a psychological problem -which passed his understanding. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII - - Certes his mouth is wried and black - Full little pence be in his sack, - This devil hath him by the back - It is no boot to lie. - --SWINBURNE. - - -Daniel Pye on that selfsame memorable day was literally floating in a -blissful atmosphere of delight. - -My lord of Stowmaries had not only been arrested but he had confessed -to his guilt; a matter which at first had greatly surprised Master Pye, -who had been at great pains to concoct an elaborate lie, only to find -through some mysterious accident of Fortune, he must have hit upon the -truth. - -Of course he did not realise as yet that the man who had been arrested -and who had confessed was not the former suitor for Mistress Peyton's -hand. He had only heard some pleasant rumours anent the reward which he -would get as soon as conviction was obtained against the accused. Many -spoke of fifty pounds, others that his reward would be as great as that -given to Master Oates: a substantial pension and comfortable lodgings -in one of the king's houses. - -But the thought of Mistress Peyton's miserable condition of vain -regrets and bitter disappointment the while her lover lingered in the -Tower, pleased Master Pye as much as that of his own good fortune, nor -could he resist the desire to brag of his prowess to those very menials -who had witnessed his downfall. There would be no great pleasure in -the discomfiture of Mistress Peyton, unless she knew whose was the hand -that had dealt the death blow to all her cherished schemes. - -Of a truth the lady was staggered when she heard of Daniel Pye's -boasts. He had been sitting in the kitchen for the past hour surrounded -by a crowd of gaping listeners, and enjoying one of the many fruits -of notoriety. The cook had placed a large venison pasty before him, -together with a tankard of ale, and lacqueys and wenches were hearing -open-mouthed the account of how Master Pye had brought my lord of -Stowmaries to disgrace, and that the life of more than one great -nobleman lay in the palm of that same Pye's very grimy hand. - -Mistress Peyton, when she heard of the man's boasts and of his -popularity among her servants, had him incontinently kicked out of the -house again, but not before he had told her with insolent spite that -she was now paying for the injustice she had perpetrated on a faithful -servant close on half a year ago. - -To Daniel Pye the awakening from these pleasing dreams came all too -soon. That same evening at the tavern in Whitefriars, he gathered the -truth from out the conflicting rumours which he heard. It was the new -Earl of Stowmaries who had taken upon himself the charge of conspiracy -preferred by Master Pye, and 'twas he who had confessed his guilt. What -could this mean, and what would be the consequences which would accrue -to the informant, to his future reward and future safety through this -unexpected turn of affairs? - -Master Oates, consulted on the point, was for sticking to the lie on -every point. The actual personality of the man could not matter in the -least, and since this Earl of Stowmaries actually pleaded guilty to the -charge, why then, all was for the best and it was not for Daniel Pye -to worry about it all. - -Master Tongue--more wary--feared a trap, but his objections were -overruled, and on the whole the infamous fraternity decided that -confrère Pye must uphold his perjuries to the end, since he would -obtain the reward whoever was condemned on his information. - -"You need have no fear, good Master," concluded Oates reassuringly; -"you'll be believed in any event. Master Bedloe and myself never had -any difficulty hitherto, even though at the Stayley trial we got in -vast confusion, seeing that we made several slips which could easily -have been proved against us, had the judge and jury been so minded. -Nay! nay! Do you stick to your story. Since one Lord Stowmaries desires -to hang instead of the other, why, let him, so say I." - -This cynical speech was, alas, an only too true exposé of the -situation. Daniel Pye was almost reassured, and fell to applying -himself to making his story more circumstantial. On consultation with -his friends it was decided that the recent murder of Sir Edmund Berry -Godfrey would be dragged into the indictment. That mysterious crime was -indeed a trump card in the hands of the informants. It seemed a pity -not to play it when the stakes were as high as they were just now. - -Pye therefore prepared himself to state on oath that the murder was -freely projected by my lord Stowmaries with the minister of the King of -France, in the course of the treasonable interview in Paris. - -But even then did the course of this true liar not run altogether -smooth, for anon it became generally known that Master Legros, tailor -of Paris, and his daughter who was none other than the wife of the -dispossessed Lord of Stowmaries, had been compelled to give evidence -for the Crown in corroboration of Master Pye's story. - -Whereupon the latter fell into a state of agitation worse than before. -He stared dry-lipped and wide-eyed at the man who had come in with this -news. This was the first intimation which he had that one of his lies -at least would find him out. When he had vowed that Master Legros had -overheard the treasonable conversation between the Earl of Stowmaries -and the minister of the King of France, he had no thought that the -tailor would actually be compelled to give testimony, whether he would -or no. - -Pye turned well-nigh sick at the thought. Dotard though he was, he had -no hopes that Master Legros would endorse his lies. Once more he turned -to his friends for counsel, and briefly explained to them the terrible -plight in which he now found himself. - -"Mayhap I'd better disappear," he suggested timorously, "before I am -caught for perjury. It means the loss of my right hand and years of -imprisonment; mayhap in this case the rope." - -"Bah, man, be not such a coward," admonished Oates boldly. He had gone -through all the anxieties himself and knew how to make light of them. -"'Twas a pity you did drag an alien's name into the case, of course, -but--" - -"'Twas the magistrate suggested it to me," broke in Pye, who was on the -verge of tears; "he said that it would be better if another witness -were forthcoming, who also had heard the conversation at the hostelry -in Paris. It would strengthen my evidence, so he said." - -"But why this French papist?" queried Bedloe with an oath. - -"Because the tailor was in deadly enmity with my lord of -Stowmaries--with the other one, I mean--and I thought he would help me -and gladly too." - -"And think you he'll turn against you?" - -"I fear me that he will," quoth Pye, who truly was in a pitiable -condition. - -"Then, man, you must change your tactics," now said Oates decisively. -"Nay! I repeat, do not be afraid. 'Tis you they will believe, and not -the papist tailor or his daughter. What can they say? That they did not -hear the treasonable conversation between the accused and the minister -of the King of France. Well, what of that? 'Tis but a negation, and no -evidence. The Attorney-General will soon upset such feeble testimony. -But do you swear that on thinking the matter over you now remember that -the tailor and his daughter had already left the hostelry of the 'Rat -Mort' when that treasonable consult took place and that you were in -my company and not in theirs. Then with one fell swoop do you destroy -the whole value of the Legros' evidence, and place yourself once more -in an unassailable position, for I too can swear then that I was with -you at the time, and heard the whole conversation--so be that you are -prepared to share the reward which you will get with me," concluded the -scoundrel with earnest emphasis. - -Daniel Pye had no option. Of a truth he was not quite such a hardened -sinner as these professional liars who had thriven and prospered under -their organized perjuries for close on half a year. - -The whole of the information against Lord Stowmaries was therefore gone -through all over again, nor was there any fear that this change of -front would in any way prejudice the noble jury against the informant. -In Coleman's case and in that of Stailey, and alas, in that of many -others, the infamous witnesses contradicted themselves and one another -to an extent which makes the modern historian gasp, when he has to put -it on record that men in England were condemned to death wholesale, on -evidence that was as flimsy as it was false. - -Master Pye, once more at peace, therefore, with his prospects and with -himself, learned his new lesson with diligence. But Master Oates was -firm on one point, and that was on his share in the coming reward. -Pye demurred for a long time. Emboldened by the encouragement of his -friends, he now thought that he could carry the whole business through -alone. - -Ultimately it was decided that Master Oates was to receive £5 of the -reward, provided he swore that on a certain day in April he too was -present at the tavern of the "Rat Mort" in Paris when my lord of -Stowmaries discussed with the minister of the King of France the terms -of the shameful treaty whereby King Charles was to be murdered, the -Duke of York be placed on the throne of England and the latter country -sold to the French and to the Pope of Rome. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV - - For Death is of an hour, and after death - Peace! - --SWINBURNE. - - -The news that Michael Kestyon--the hero of one of the most exciting -adventures in the history of gallantry, the man who less than -twenty-four hours ago had by the king's mandate obtained the titles and -estates for which he had fought for over ten years--the news that he -had been arrested for treason connected with the hellish Popish plot, -horrified and astonished all London. - -It seemed incredible that a man whose romantic personality had charmed -all the women and even fascinated the king, could lend himself to such -base treachery as to sell his country to the foreigners, and to incite -others to poison the merry monarch who even at that moment had with one -stroke of the pen seen that justice was done to the miserable reprobate. - -Such is popularity! Michael, who a couple of days ago was the idol of -society, the cynosure of all eyes at assemblies or in the playhouse, -on whom the women smiled, and whom the men were proud to know, Michael -now was naught but an abominable traitor, for whom hanging and the rack -were more suitable than the block to which he was entitled by virtue of -his newly acquired dignities. - -And there was no doubt as to his villainies: the infamous blackguard -had confessed, even at the time of his arrest, which no doubt had taken -him wholly by surprise, and thus forced on an avowal which would -expedite the trial and give every one a chance of seeing the traitor's -head on Tyburn gate before many days were over. - -Excitement and terror had by this time so taken hold of the people -of England that all sense of justice had gone hopelessly astray, and -there was but little chance of any man--however high placed he might -be, however upright and loyal had been his conduct throughout his -life--escaping condemnation and death, once the army of false informers -and perjurers had singled him out for attack. - -As for Michael, everything was against him from the first. His former -dissolute life, his long wanderings abroad, where he was supposed -to have imbibed all the imaginary desires of the foreigners to turn -England into an obedient vassal of France and Rome, also his sudden -accession to wealth and the rumours anent that certain adventure, the -details of which grew both in confusion, in mystery and even in horror -as they were passed from mouth to mouth. - -When the fact that the young girl-wife of the dispossessed Earl -of Stowmaries would be one of the witnesses for the Crown became -known, gossip became still more wild. Interest in that former -adventure increased an hundred fold, and the news did of a truth give -verisimilitude to the most weird conjecture. The words black magic -and witchcraft were soon freely bandied about. Michael Kestyon was no -longer an ordinary plotter, but the veriest anti-Christ himself, who -was in league with the Pope of Rome to ruin England and to bring forth -her submission by such means even as the Lord employed against the -Egyptians in favour of the Israelites. Only in this case, the devil was -to be the instrument whereby the ten plagues were to be hurled on this -defenceless isle. - -There was to be a plague of locusts and one of rats, the waters of -the Thames would turn to corroding acid and the miscreant Earl of -Stowmaries had promised to give the devil the blood of every noble -virgin in England as payment for his satanic help. - -Had we not the testimony of sane-minded men and women who lived at the -time, and who witnessed every phase of that amazing frenzy which swept -over England during these awful years, we could not believe that the -people of this country, usually so gifted with sound minds and above -all with a sense of justice and of tolerance, could thus have rushed -headlong into an abyss of maniacal fanaticism which hath for ever -remained a blot upon the history of the seventeenth century. - -There is a curious letter extant written by Mistress Julia Peyton in -her usual almost illegible scrawl and embellished by her more than -quaint spelling; it was addressed to her cousin, Sir John Ayloffe, a -week or so before the trial, and in it she says: - - "I wod Like to know the truth about this Story wich sayth - that my lord Stowmaries wil be acused of witchcraft. They - do sa he praktised Black Magic, and tried to kil the - talor's daughter, so to use her blood for his Arts and his - Inkantations. She being a Virgin. They do sa also that her - Evidens against Him wil vastly startle Every one. As for me - I tak vast Interest in the reprobate and do wish him well at - his Trial. The husband of the talor's wench is naut to me. - I do not desire to see him become Earl of Stowmaries, but - rather that Michael be suksesful." - -What other schemes the fair lady now nurtured in her heart we know from -the fact that she made several attempts to have access to the prisoner, -all of which were unsuccessful, despite the fact that she used the -influence of her other admirers to effect her ends, whilst on one -occasion she wrote to Cousin John: - - "An Michael doth sukseed in getting an acquittal, I pra you - bring him to my house forthwith afterwards. Remember good - coz that I promisd you twelve thousand pounds if I do marry - the Earl of Stowmaries." - -But beyond these secret wishes of the fair beauty, and mayhap a sigh -of regret or so from pretty lips for the handsome adventurer, popular -feeling was raging highly against the accused, and many chroniclers -aver that among the many conspirators who were brought to these -shameful trials during this time, against none was there so much -venomous hatred as there was against Michael Kestyon. - -There is this to be remembered--though truly 'tis but weak palliation -for the disgraceful antagonism displayed against the accused--that this -was the first instance where a man so highly placed as was the Earl of -Stowmaries was directly implicated in the plot; he was a sop thrown -to the rampant radicalism of the anti-Church party as well as to its -intolerant fanaticism. - -Public sympathy on the other hand had at once gone out to the -dispossessed Earl of Stowmaries, whom the traitor had tried to rob of -his wife and had effectually succeeded in robbing of his inheritance. - -But retribution for the guilty and compensation for the innocent had -come together hand in hand. Michael Kestyon would hang, of course, -whereupon the only rightful Lord of Stowmaries would once more come -back into his own. The latter with commendable delicacy had left London -directly his cousin's arrest became known; he would not stay to gloat -over his enemy's downfall. - -In fact, for the moment everything that Rupert did was right and proper -and worthy of sympathy, and everything that Michael had ever said and -done and all that he had never said or done was held up against him by -all those who awhile ago were ready to acclaim him as a friend. - -Of all these rumours Michael himself knew nothing. On his arrest he had -at once pleaded guilty, hoping thereby to expedite his trial, and to -curtail the time during which he would have to linger in prison. Echoes -of the turmoil which was raging in the capital did reach him from -time to time. The murder of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey had sent raging -fanaticism to boiling point. Needless to say that here was another -crime to fasten on the already overburdened shoulders of the accused. - -All these fresh outbursts of hatred and injustice, however, left -Michael cold and indifferent, even when through a subordinate he heard -the amazing story of how he was supposed to have tried to murder his -cousin's wife by means of black magic, he had nothing but an almost -humorous smile for the quaint monstrosity of the suggestion. - -He quickly tired of prison life and though there was no pang of -suspense connected with it, for the issue was of course a foregone -conclusion, yet he fretted at the delay which the importance of his -case had brought about in the otherwise simple machinery of summary -justice. - - - - - CHAPTER XLV - - Her game in thy tongue is called Life - As ebbs thy daily breath; - When she shall speak, thou'lt learn her tongue - And know she calls it death. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -For the rest, 'tis in the domain of history. Michael could have been -tried by his peers had he so desired it. The few friends who rallied -round him urged him to demand the right, but when we remember that in -pledging his life to his cousin, his one wish was speedy condemnation -and summary death, we cannot be astonished that he refused to be tried -by those who might have been lenient toward one of themselves. - -Among his peers, too, the fact would of a surety have come to light -that he did not belong to the Catholic branch of the Kestyons, that he -himself was a member of the Established Church, which--as all these -trials, alas, really amounted to religious persecution--would almost -certainly have obtained an acquittal. - -Parliament--still suffering severely of its no-Popery fit--demanded -that the traitor be tried as a common criminal before the King's Bench -and required the king to issue a special commission that the day might -be fixed as soon as may be. - -The accused was of course allowed no counsel, and no defence save what -he could say on his own behalf. Nor did he know the precise words of -the indictment, or what special form the informant's lies had taken. - -He did not know exactly what he was supposed to have said or done, he -could only vaguely guess from what he knew of similar trials that had -gone before. - -The trial of Michael Kestyon, Earl of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, did, -we know, take place before the King's Bench on the twenty-first day -of November, 1678. Lord Chief Justice Scroggs presided, and the -Attorney-General, Sir William Jones, once the friend of Michael, -addressed the jury for the Crown. - -We also know that the court sat in Westminster Hall for the occasion, -as it was expected that a very large concourse of ladies and gentlemen -would desire to be present. As a matter of fact, the élite of London -society did forego on that occasion the pleasures of The Mall, and -of the playhouse in order to witness a spectacle which would rouse -the jaded senses of these votaries of fashion and whip up their -blasé emotions more than any comedy of Mr. Dryden or the late Master -Shakespeare could do. - -This would be a tragedy far more moving, far more emotional than that -of Hamlet or of Romeo and Juliet, for the element of romance mingled -agreeably with that of crime, and the personality of the accused was -one that aroused the most eager interest. - -Outside, a gloomy November drizzle enveloped London with its clammy -shroud. Ladies and gentlemen arrived in their chairs or their glass -coaches, wrapped to the eyes in mantles and hoods of fur. There was -a goodly array of musketeers guarding the approach to the Hall, and -a small company of the trained bands of London lined the way from -Whitehall to Westminster, for it was pretty well known that His Majesty -would come--in strict incognito--to see the last of his nine days' -favourite, who during the last few months had made Mistress Gwynne -sigh very significantly, and caused Lady Castlemaine to make invidious -comparisons between the gallant bearing of the romantic adventurer and -the mincing manners of the gentlemen of the Court. - -The less exalted spectators of to-day's pageant were being kept outside -and pushed well out of the way by the soldiery; nevertheless, they -stood about patiently--ankle deep in the mud of the roadway, their -sad-coloured doublets getting soaked beneath the persistent drizzle and -exhaling a fetid odour which made the street and the open place seem -more dismal and humid than usual. - -The men pressed to the front, leaving the women to shift for -themselves, to see as best they could. It was pre-eminently a spectacle -for men, since it carried with it its own element of danger. For, -look you, the Papists would be mightily rampant on this occasion, -and who knows but that a gigantic conspiracy was afoot to blow up -the Lord's House of Parliament, which would sit this day to try the -arch-conspirator. - -Recollections of the Gunpowder Plot caused men to curse loudly, and to -grasp with firm hand the useful flail safely hid inside the doublet: a -good protection against personal attack, but alas, useless if the whole -of Westminster was really undermined with powder. - -The 'prentices, ever to the fore, had taken French leave to-day. At -certain risk of castigation to-morrow they deserted work with one -accord and were at the best posts of observation, long before the more -sober folk had thought to leave their beds. They wriggled their meagre -bodies between the very legs of the soldiery, like so many lizards in -search of sunshine, until they had conquered their places of vantage -in the foreground whence they would presently see the prisoner when he -stepped out of the vehicle which would bring him from the Tower. - -In the meanwhile the crowd wiled away the time by watching the arrival -of the grand folk, and noting their names and quality as they descended -from coach and chaise. - -"That's my lord of Rochester." - -"And this my lady Evelyn." - -"I vow 'tis Master Pepys himself." - -"And his lady, too." - -"'Tis His Grace of Norfolk!" - -Whereupon since the duke was a well-known Papist, there were hoots -and hisses and cries of "The stake for heretics!" in which even the -musketeers joined. - -The informers came together and were vigorously cheered and loudly -acclaimed. - -"An Oates! An Oates! A Bedloe! Hurrah for the saviours of the nation!" - -Daniel Pye, a little anxious, was being upheld by his friend Tongue, -who kept up a running flow of encouraging words which he poured forth -into the other man's ear. He not being known to the mob remained -unnoticed. As the time drew nigh for making his lying statements more -public, the East Anglian peasant felt his courage oozing down into -his boots. Bedloe and Oates, who had gone through similar experiences -several times now, added their own encouragement to that expressed by -Tongue. - -"No one will worry you," said Bedloe loftily; "they'll believe every -word you say. Only stick to your story, man, and never hesitate. They -can't contradict you: no one else was there to see." - -Although the gloom outside had almost changed day into evening, yet -on entering the great hall wherein a very few lamps flickered near the -centre dais, Daniel Pye could see nothing of his surroundings. He was -glad that Oates himself took him by the arm, and piloted him through -the great hall toward a side door immediately behind the bench and -which gave on the room that had been assigned to the witnesses. - -A goodly number of ladies and gentlemen wore masks when they arrived, -and among these was a man obviously young and of assured position, -for his step was firm and his movements like those of one accustomed -to have his own way in the world. He was dressed in rough clothes of -sad-coloured material, but there was nothing of the menial about his -person as he presented his paper of admission to the most exclusive -corner of the hall. - -Here he sat himself down in a dark recess beneath the sill of the great -mullioned window, nor did he remove his mask as almost every one else -had done. Had not the crowd all round him been deeply engrossed in its -own excitement no doubt that some one would have challenged and mayhap -recognised the solitary figure. - -But as it was, no one took notice of him. Rupert Kestyon--like the -criminal who cannot resist the impulse of once more revisiting the -scene of his crime--had returned to London to see the final act of the -great tragedy, wherein he himself was playing such a sorry part. - -Not that Rupert had any fear that matters would not turn out just -as Michael had mapped them out. He knew his kinsman far too well to -imagine for a moment that he would lift a finger to save the life which -he had bartered for his cousin's loyalty to the tailor's daughter. - -But in Paris, whilst waiting in seclusion and inactivity, the moment -when--the tragedy being over--he could once more resume the more -pleasing comedy of life, he felt an irresistible longing to see the -fall of that curtain, to be present when Fate dealt him his last -trump-card, the final sacrifice of the man who stood in the way of his -own advancement. - -Therefore he sat there in the corner, solitary and watchful, noting the -arrival of the spectators, the appearance of the men of law, the whole -paraphernalia of justice which was about to crush an innocent man. - -The hall by now was packed to overflowing; to right and left temporary -seats had been erected and covered with crimson cloth, forming an -amphitheatre which accommodated over a thousand people, amongst whom -were many that bore historic names, as well as the gayer crowd that -formed the Court set. - -Vast as was the room, it had already become insufferably hot; ladies -plied their fans vigorously, whilst the men, worried with their heavy -perruques, became restless and morose. On the right hand side, and -somewhat in advance of the rest of the seats, a few more comfortable -chairs had been disposed. Here sat a man dressed in sober black, with -dark perruque pushed impatiently off his high forehead, and shifty, -mistrustful-looking eyes wandering over the sea of faces all around -him. To right and left of him ladies whispered and chatted, trying -to bring a smile to the pinched lips, and not succeeding, for the -man in the black surcoat was moody to-day, anxious, too, and vastly -dissatisfied with himself, which is ever an uncomfortable state of -mind. He had entered the Hall almost unobserved by the crowd outside, -stepping out of a closed coach in no ways different to others that had -driven up before. He had worn a mask when he arrived and only removed -it when he was already seated. Several people recognised him then, -but what cheering there came from the more brilliant members of this -promiscuous throng was quickly repressed. - -Despite the many supposed attempts on the life of the king, he was far -from popular just now. Conscious of this, he frowned when he realised -that--though he was recognised by many--yet he was acclaimed only by a -very few. - -Already the jury were seated and Sir Cresswell Levins was sorting his -papers, and incidentally chatting with the Attorney-General. And now -from outside came a muffled sound, like unto great breakers rolling -into shore; distant at first, it gradually drew nearer, drawing -strength as it approached. Soon through it there came, striking sharply -on the ear, the stamping of horses' hoofs on the cobblestones of the -road, and the creaking of heavy wheels through the mud. The sound -of rolling waves turned to one which came from hundreds of human -lips--hisses and groans were distinctly heard; shouts of execration, -with here and there a blasphemous oath loudly uttered against the -cursed Papists. - -The prisoner had arrived. - -Inside the Hall all necks were craned to catch the first glimpse of the -man who was destined mayhap not to leave this place save with the axe -suspended over his head. - -The romantic tales which had clustered around the personality of -Michael Kestyon, the horrible suggestions of unavowable deeds, of -black magic and devilish incantations, had borne fruit. Though eyes -were fixed with eager curiosity on the man as he entered, though many -a pleasing shudder ran along white plump shoulders as this confederate -of Satan passed so closely by, there was not a single demonstration of -sympathy on his behalf. - -The women whispered: - -"He is goodly to look on!" and took stock of the prisoner's bearing, -the upright carriage of his handsome head, the quiet look of splendid -aloofness with which he regarded his surroundings. - -Whereupon the men retorted gruffly: - -"The emissaries of the devil are always made handsome in the eyes of -others. Satan arranges it so, else they would have no power." - -Following on the prisoner's entrance, the great doors of the Hall had -been closed, whereupon the noise outside became quite deafening. The -hoots and hisses, the shouts of execration, were still apparent but -they mingled now with the clash of arms, the tramping of many feet, and -loudly repeated groans of agony. The mob, robbed of its spectacle, had -turned restive, the men broke through the lines of the soldiery and -made an effort to rush the gates of the Hall. From the officers came -quick words of command, rallying their lines from where they stretched -toward White Hall. - -A few heavy blows, well aimed and vigorously dealt, with the butt end -of the muskets, a few bodies trampled beneath horses' hoofs, some -broken heads and shattered limbs, and the mob sobered down, withdrew -grumbling and cursing, but understanding that the great pageant within -was for their betters and not for them. - -During the turmoil the Lord Chief Justice had entered and the prisoner -had been led to the bar; he had been made to hold up his right hand -whilst he was told why he had been brought here, and why he was made -to stand his trial. Being a peer, the Chamberlain of the Tower stood -beside him holding the axe. - -Michael silently did all that he was bidden to do. The proceedings had -no interest for him. Of a truth he had been more than satisfied if the -more barbarous justice of two centuries ago had been meted out to him. -An accusation, a brief interrogation, mayhap an unpleasant quarter of -an hour in the torture chamber, then the block! How much more simple, -how much more easy to endure than this sea of curious faces, this -paraphernalia of gorgeously-clad judge and of lawyers assembled there -with the pre-conceived and firm determination to condemn the accused -whatever might betide. - -The while Sir Cresswell Levins opened the case, admonishing the jury -to do their duty by the prisoner at the bar, Michael with indifferent -eyes scanned the faces all around him. He saw Mistress Julia Peyton in -the front rank of the spectators clad in exquisite pearl grey silk, -her beautiful shoulders but thinly veiled beneath filmy folds of -delicate lace. He saw the piquant face of Mistress Gwynne, the haughty -figure of Lady Castlemaine. Most of the women as they encountered his -look blushed to meet those dark eyes, which looked almost unnaturally -large in the face rendered thin and pale through the nerve-racking -experiences of the past few weeks. - -Anon Michael's eyes met the restless ones of the king. He bent his head -with deep respect, for he had not yet learned to despise the man to -whom he owed all that he had, all that he was now sacrificing in order -that his snowdrop might find happiness again. - -Charles Stuart turned his head away with a sigh. All that was good -and noble and kind in him went out to that man, in whose innocence he -firmly believed but whom he found was well-nigh intolerable. - -But Michael now was obliged to pull his senses back to the exigencies -of the moment and he pleaded "Guilty!" in a calm and steady voice. -He had not even grasped the full meaning of the indictment read out -at full length by the Attorney-General. All he knew was that he was -accused of having plotted to murder the king, whom he revered, and of -having sold his country to the head of a Church to which he did not -happen to belong. - -Michael desired his own condemnation. He was here solely for that, -in order that the man whom his ice maiden loved with that cold, -passionless heart of hers might give her all that she wanted, all that -was her due. But the inactivity of the moment was so terrible to bear. -To a man accustomed to rule his own destiny, to choose his own path, -and to say to Fate: "This will I do, and thou art my slave!" to a man -of that stamp the present situation was well-nigh intolerable. - -The long-drawn-out speech of the Attorney-General, the platitudes -addressed to the accused by the Lord Chief Justice, his own answers -mechanically given soon left him wandering into the realms of unreality. - -The heat in the room pressed upon his temples like a monster weight -of lead. Michael, gazing with eyes that saw not on the solemn scene -in which he was the chief personage, soon fell into a kind of torpor -akin to a trance. Ghost-like forms clad in crimson robes, grinning -faces with perruques awry, began to dance before his fevered fancy. -They twirled and turned, round and round the flickering flames of -the lamps, until these were magnified an hundredfold and multiplied -innumerably. Now faces and forms disappeared: there were only a -thousand millions of eyes that blinked and blinked, the while the lamps -were will-o'-the-wisps, glowworms with monstrous shining horns that -stood upright on iron tails and joined in the wild saraband which had -transformed the solemn Hall of Westminster into the precincts of Hell. - -Then gradually all the grinning faces, all the glowing monstrosities -and witch-like forms became a gigantic circle of ruddy light wherein -flames flickered at intervals like unto a burning halo which seared the -eyes of the beholder. And right in the very centre of that transcendent -glow two faces appeared, white and ghost-like, spirits surely from a -world beyond. - -Michael knew that he was dreaming, his temples and pulses were -throbbing. He had lost count of space and of time. He just breathed and -held himself upright and no more; living had become an unknown thing to -him. But the faces were there still, in the centre of the glowing halo, -and they were those of his beautiful snowdrop and of Master Legros, -tailor to the King of France. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI - - And now she spoke as when - The stars sang in their spheres. - --DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. - - -His snowdrop was gazing straight at him from out great, wide eyes, her -lips were parted as if she meant to speak, and her hand lay on the arm -of her father, good Papa Legros, dressed all in black, and above whose -sombre surcoat shone a kindly face almost distorted by its expression -of anxiety and from which ran streams of perspiration which the poor -man wiped off ever and anon with a bright-coloured handkerchief. - -With a mechanical movement Michael passed his hand across his eyes. His -brain returned from its long wandering in the realm of dreamland; the -light ceased to flicker, the sea of grinning faces receded into the -darkness. Michael now only saw Rose Marie. The devilish visions had -been transformed into peaceful dreams of Heaven. - -Though his mind--still feverish and numb--refused to believe that she -was really there, yet his eyes took in every tiny detail of the golden -picture which they saw. - -There were the tiny curls that, ever rebellious, would break through -the confines of the lace cap and flutter tantalisingly round her ear; -there was the little mole just above the lip, which gave the perfect -mouth, that otherwise had been accounted too serious, an exquisite air -of piquancy; there was the delicate rise of the throat, peeping above -the lace kerchief, a god-like snare wherein he had once dared to hope -that his lips would be entrapped. - -And all the while that Michael looked on his beloved, Daniel Pye was -busy with his perjuries, and Master Oates stood up to corroborate -these. Once or twice the Lord Chief Justice had turned to the accused, -expecting a contradiction of such obvious lies. But the only word that -ever escaped the latter's lips came mechanically as from one who had -learned a lesson by heart. - -"I am guilty--what these men say is true." - -Once the Attorney-General had spoken quite irritably: - -"The prisoner's attitude, my lord," he said, "is one of contempt for -this Court. He must be made to answer more fully the charges that are -preferred against him." - -"Then 'tis for you to question him," retorted the Lord Chief Justice -drily. - -Emboldened by Michael's attitude of passive acquiescence, Pye and Oates -surpassed themselves. Their story gained in detail, in circumstantial -broiderings under cross-examination. Once or twice their imagination -and impudence carrying them too far, they palpably contradicted one -another. A man's voice then rose from the midst of the spectators: -"These men are accursed liars!" - -The voice was authoritative and loud, as of a man accustomed to be -obeyed. And no one cried "Hush!" to the remark, since it came from -royal lips. - -After an examination which we know lasted nearly an hour, the two -witnesses were dismissed. They left the great hall together and walked -with an assured air of satisfaction across to the small room beyond -the bench, where they were bidden to wait in case they were required -again. To a sanely judicial mind the only point which would present -itself in the evidence of these miscreants as being uncontradicted and -unquestionably established by them, was that the treasonable converse -between the accused and a minister of the King of France did take -place at the tavern of the "Rat Mort" in Paris in the evening of the -nineteenth day of April of this same year. - -Beyond that it was a tangle which Michael, had he chosen, could easily -have unravelled in his own favour. But this he did not mean to do; he -was only anxious for the end. - -While the lying informer spoke of that same nineteenth day of April -his thoughts flew back on the sable wings of a dead past to all the -memories that clung to that day. - -The religious ceremony at St. Gervais, the dance on the dusty floor of -the tailor's back shop, the ride through the darkness along the lonely -road with his beloved clinging to him, the while his arm ached with an -exquisite sense of numbness under the delicious burden which it bore. - -These men spoke of the evening of that nineteenth day of April! Oh, the -remembrance of every hour, every minute which the date recalled! - -The darkened room in the old inn, the streaks of moonbeam which kissed -the gold of her hair, the April breeze which caused her curls to -flutter, and the sighing of the reeds and young acacia boughs like -spirit whisperings that presaged impending doom! - -Her voice, her eyes, so tender, for that one brief day! Would not the -remembrance of it be graven on his heart when after so much joy, such -hopeless abnegation, it would cease to beat at last. - -Of a truth can you wonder that Michael was impatient for the end? He -had seen his snowdrop through the gossamer veil of a day-dream across -the crowded court and the vision had caused him to realise more fully -than he had ever done before how impossible life would be without her. - -Thank God, that he had pledged his life to his cousin! Thank God, that -Rupert had accepted the pledge, and gave in exchange for the worthless -trifle, his own loyalty to Rose Marie. - -Then why so many parleyings, such long, empty talk, such tortuous -questionings? Michael had pleaded guilty and almost asked for death. - -Even as with an impatient sigh of intense weariness he had for the -twentieth time that day spoken his mechanical "Guilty!" there was -general movement amongst the spectators. Imagine a hive of bees -swarming round their queen: the women leaned forward clutching their -fans, forgetting the heat and the discomfort of those long hours. The -men put up spy-glasses the better to see what went on in the centre -of the stage, the while a murmur of excitement ran right through the -assembly. - -Papa Legros was being led by a gorgeously-clad usher in the direction -of the bar, opposite to the prisoner, whilst his daughter walked by his -side. - -Dormant attention had indeed been roused, necks were craned to get a -better view of the interesting witnesses. - -"She is the wife of my lord of Stowmaries," came in whispers all round -the hall, like the swish of the wind through poplar trees. - -"What--of the prisoner?" - -"No! No! Of the man whom he dispossessed and who will be Lord of -Stowmaries again, once this man is hanged." - -"She is very young." - -"Ay--a girl-wife. 'Tis her whom the accused tried to murder, so that -he might offer her blood in sacrifice to the devil." - -But this statement obtained little credence now. - -"The accused does not look like a wizard, or an emissary of the devil," -commented the ladies. - -"Yet the girl is there to testify against him." - -"That is because she must hate him so. She is the wife of the man whom -the accused hath dispossessed. They say she dearly loves her husband, -yet did the accused try and steal her from him." - -"She will make a handsome Countess of Stowmaries anon," quoth Lord -Rochester with his wonted cynicism, and speaking in the ear of his -royal master, "What think you, sire?" - -"Odd's fish!" retorted Charles Stuart. "If she proved as big a liar as -these damnable informers then is there no virtue writ plainly on any -woman's face." - -There certainly was something infinitely pathetic in the appearance -of father and daughter: he in his clothes of deep black, and with the -tears of anxiety and perturbation rolling slowly down his cheeks. She -fragile and slender, with pale, delicate face and eyes wherein girlish -timidity still fought against a woman's resolve. - -No wonder that for the moment every unkind comment was hushed. The -Countess of Stowmaries--as she was already universally called--seemed -to command respect as well as sympathy. With a great show of kindness, -the Lord Chief Justice himself spoke directly to the two witnesses, -asking their names and quality, as was required for form's sake. - -Rose Marie now no longer looked at the accused. She stood beside her -father, tall and stately as the water-lilies to which the man who loved -her so ardently had once compared her. The mud of the world had left -her unsmirched; she carried her head high, for the slimy tendrils of -men's unavowable passions, of trickery, of lies and deceit had not -reached the high altitude whereon her purity sat enthroned. - -Her father was the witness called on behalf of the Crown; he had made -his statement on oath, and stood here now to repeat it before all the -world. His daughter was his interpreter, since he was unacquainted with -the English language. - -Her voice was clear and firm as in answer to the questions put to her -by the Lord Chief Justice she gave her father's humble name and quality -and then her own as Mistress Kestyon, wife of Rupert Kestyon, erstwhile -known as my Lord of Stowmaries and Rivaulx. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVII - - Love that is root and fruit of terrene things, - Love that the whole world's waters shall not drown - The whole world's fiery forces not burn down. - --SWINBURNE. - - -Michael could scarce believe his own eyes. The reality had brought -him back with irresistible force from his day-dream to the tangible -situation of the moment. - -Papa Legros was here with Rose Marie. So much was true; that was no -longer in the domain of dreams. They had been brought here to add their -testimony to the lies spoken by the informers. - -Torturing devils, whispering in Michael's ears, made this hellish -suggestion. With it came an intensity of bitterness. He had thought -that the old man loved him, yet his appearance here and now seemed like -petty vengeance wreaked on a fallen enemy. - -Michael ground his teeth, trying to drive these whispering devils -away. He would not--even at a moment such as this--lose if only for an -instant his perfect faith in the purity of the woman he loved. If she -stood here, it was for a noble purpose. What that purpose could be, -not even the mad conjectures of his own fevered fancy could contrive -to imagine; his veins were throbbing and he could not think. Only the -puzzle confronted him now, mocking his own obtuseness; the laggard -brain, that had suffered so long, and was now dormant, unable to guess -the riddle which could not be aught save one of life or death. - -All he did know was that Rose Marie was standing there before all these -people, she the very essence of purity and of truth, and that she was -being made to swear that she would speak the truth. Was this not a vile -mockery, masters, seeing that naught but what was true could ever fall -from her lips? - -Now the Attorney-General was questioning her father, with thin, -sarcastic lips curled in a smile. Rose Marie replied calmly and firmly, -interpreting her father's answers, not looking once on the accused, -but almost always straight before her, save when she threw a look of -encouragement on good Papa Legros, who then would pat her hand with -unaffected tenderness. - -"And you were present, so the other witness swore in his original -information, on the 19th day of April, with him at the tavern of the -'Rat Mort' in Paris, and you did on that same evening hear the accused -hold converse with one who was minister to His Majesty the King of -France?" - -The Attorney-General's voice was metallic, trenchant, like a knife; -it reached the furthermost distance of the great hall and grated -unpleasantly on Michael's ear. He hated to see his beloved standing -there before that gaping crowd. He cursed the enforced inactivity which -made of him a helpless log when with every fibre within him he longed -to take her in his arms and carry her away to a secluded spot where -impious eyes were not raised to her snow-white robes. - -"My lord," he interposed loudly, "I have confessed to my guilt. What -this witness may have to say can have naught to do with the plain fact. -I am guilty. I have confessed. Cannot your lordship have mercy and pass -sentence as soon as may be?" - -"Prisoner at the bar," rejoined the Lord Chief Justice, "'tis not for -you to dictate the procedure of justice. 'Tis my duty to hear every -witness who hath testimony to lay before this court. You have confessed -your guilt, 'tis true, but on such confession the law will not hold -you guilty, until you have so been proved; and for the sake of the -witnesses who have testified against you, as well as for the sake of -justice, we must obtain corroboration of their statements." - -Then he turned once more to Papa Legros and graciously bade him to make -answer to the questions put by the Attorney-General. - -Rose Marie, before she spoke, turned and looked on Michael. Their eyes -met across that vast assembly and as in one great vivid flash, each -read in those of the other the sublime desire for complete sacrifice. - -In a moment Michael understood; in that one brief flash and through the -unexplainable telepathy which flew from her soul to his, the truth had -burst upon him with the appalling force of absolute conviction. - -She, the woman whom he adored, who was a saint exalted in his mind -above every other woman on earth, she was about to throw her fair fame, -her honour, her purity as a plaything to this crowd of hyena-like -creatures, who would fall on the tattered remnants of her reputation -and tear its last fragments to shreds. - -This she meant to do. This was the grim and sublime answer to the -riddle which had so puzzled Michael when first he saw his Rose Marie in -this court. She meant to give her honour for his life. She loved him -and came here to offer her all--her own, her father's good name, so -that he--Michael--should be saved. - -The terrible, awful agony of this thought, the mad, tumultuous joy! -Here was the moment at last--the one second in the illimitable cycle -of time--when if there be mercy in Heaven or on earth, the kiss of -Death should bring peace to the miserable wastrel who had in this brief -flash of understanding tasted an eternity of happiness. - -She loved him and was here to save him! But Heavens above, at what a -cost! - -He looked round him like some caged beast, determined at all hazards to -make a mad dash for liberty. - -It could not be! No, no; it should not be! Surely God in Heaven could -not allow this monstrous sacrifice; surely the thunderbolts from above -would come down crashing in the midst of this mocking, jeering assembly -before his exquisite snowdrop dragged her immaculate white skirts in -the mire. - -What he did or how he fought, Michael himself scarcely knew. What was -he but one small, helpless atom in this avalanche of callous lawmakers? -All that he did know was that with all the strength at his command he -protested his guilt again and again, imploring judgment, uttering wild -words of treason that might secure his own immediate condemnation. - -"My lord, my lord," he cried loudly, "in the name of Heaven as you -yourself hope for justice hereafter, listen not to these witnesses. -I swear to you that they will only confirm what the others have -said. I am guilty--thrice guilty, I say--yes, I plotted to murder -the king. I plotted to sell England to France and to Rome. I admit -the truth of every word the informers have uttered. I am guilty, my -lord--guilty--judgment, in Heaven's name--I ask for judgment." - -"Prisoner at the bar, I command you to be silent." - -Silent, silent when so monstrous a thing was about to happen! As well -command the giant waves lashed into madness by the fury of the wind -to be silent when they break upon the rocks. The Lord Chief Justice -commanded the musketeers to restrain this madman, to force him to hold -his tongue, to drown his voice with the clatter of their arms. - -The spectators stared aghast, women gasped with fear, the men were awed -despite themselves in the presence of this raging torrent of a man's -unbridled passion. - -The general impression which this scene had created was of course -that the prisoner was dreading some awful revelation which these two -witnesses might make. He was avowing his guilt, therefore he did not -hope to escape death; once more the superstitious dread of witchcraft -rose in the minds of all. Was the accused--already practically -condemned for treason--in fear that his death would mean the stake -rather than the block? - -A close phalanx gathered round the person of the king, who with a -cynical smile was watching the confusion which occurred round the -august majesty of this court. But he waved aside those who would have -stood between him and Michael. - -"He'll quieten down anon," he said simply, "and if I mistake not, -gentlemen, we shall then learn a lesson which throughout our lives we -are not like to forget." - -Was it accident or design? Had Michael fought like a madman, or had -his brain merely given way under an agonizing moral blow. Certain it -is that suddenly he felt a terrible pain in his head, his senses were -reeling, his tongue, parched and dry, refused to obey the dictates of -his will that bade it protest again and again, until his heart could no -longer beat, until his last breath had left his body. - -He tottered and would have fallen but for strong arms that held him -up. He felt that irons were being placed on his wrists, that four pairs -of hands gripped his arms and shoulders so that he could no longer -move. The pain in his head was well-nigh intolerable; he closed his -eyes in the vain effort not to swoon. - -It was the butt end of a musket that had rendered him helpless. From -the lips of many spectators came loud invectives against the miscreant -who had dared to strike a peer; vaguely reaching the half-unconscious -brain came the sound of voices, also the cry from a woman's throat, -heard above all the others, uttered with an intensity of agony even as -he fell. - -With Michael's half-swoon the turmoil had somewhat subsided. The -musketeers round him, terrified at their comrade's act, were bathing -the prisoner's head with water hastily obtained. The spectators, deeply -moved--unable to understand the inner meaning of the strange scene -which they had just witnessed--were talking excitedly to one another. - -Conjectures, wild guesses, flew from mouth to mouth. - -And in the midst of all this noise, and of all the confusion, Rose -Marie had remained calm, holding her father by the hand. Only when the -dastardly blow felled the fighting lion down, then only did a cry of -pain escape her trembling lips. Now when comparative stillness reigned -around her, she once more faced the judges. Michael was now helpless, -she could offer up her sacrifice in peace. - -The Lord Chief Justice repeated his question and even as he began -speaking complete silence fell upon all. - -"Will you swear before this court that on the evening of the nineteenth -day of April you were present with Master Pye and Doctor Oates at the -hostelry of the 'Rat Mort' in Paris and there on that same evening -did hear the accused holding converse with a minister of the King of -France?" - -"No, milor," replied Rose Marie firmly; "my father was not present on -the evening of the nineteenth day of April in the tavern of the 'Rat -Mort' in Paris, nor in any other tavern, nor did the accused hold -converse on that same evening with a minister of the King of France. -And this do I swear in my father's name and mine own." - -"But," interposed the Attorney-General in his dry, sarcastic tone, "the -former witnesses have sworn that you were there present together with -them, when the converse did take place." - -"Those witnesses have lied, my lord," spoke Rose Marie. - -"Take care, Mistress," admonished the Lord Chief Justice, "you do bring -a grave charge against those witnesses." - -"A grave charge yet a true one, my lord. Yet what they have sworn to is -both false and grave." - -"Yet are you sworn in as a witness for the Crown." - -"And as a witness for the Crown do I speak," rejoined Rose Marie -simply, "for the Crown of England is the crown of truth, and my father -and I are here for the truth." - -"Which mayhap will bear fuller investigation," quoth Sir William Jones -with a sneer. - -"As full an one as you desire, my lords." - -"Then pray, Mistress, since you and your father do swear that you were -not at the hostelry of the 'Rat Mort' in Paris on the evening of the -nineteenth of April, how comes it that you can state so positively that -the accused did not then and at that place hold treasonable converse -with the minister of the King of France, as the other witnesses have -testified?" - -Rose Marie paused before she answered; it almost seemed as if she -wished to wait until all disturbing sounds had died down in the vast -hall, so that her fresh and firm voice should ring clearly from end to -end. - -Then she spoke, looking straight at the judge: - -"Because of the truth of the statement, my lord," she said, "to which -my father hath already sworn before the magistrate, and to which he -must, it seems, now swear openly before this court, according to the -laws of your country. The accused, my lord, could not have been present -at a hostelry in Paris, or held converse with a minister of the King -of France on the evening of the nineteenth day of April, for on that -day did I plight my troth to him at the Church of St. Gervais, and he -did spend the full day in my father's house. At five o'clock in the -afternoon he did journey with me to St. Denis and there remained with -me at the hostelry of the 'Three Archangels,' when my father came and -fetched me away." - -"It is false," came faintly whispered from the lips of the prisoner, -whose consciousness only seemed to return for this brief while, that he -might register a last protest against the desecration of his saint. - -Rose Marie's words had rung clearly and distinctly from end to end of -the hall. After she spoke, after that protest from the accused, dead -silence fell on all. Only the fluttering of the fans came as a strange -moaning sound, hovering in the over-heated air. - -Excitement like the embodiment of a thousand spirits flew across and -across on wings widely outstretched--unseen yet tangible. Soon a -half-audible curse spoken from beneath the mullioned windows broke the -spell of awed silence. - -Rupert Kestyon, with rage and shame surging in his heart, fear, too, at -the possible consequences of this unexpected interference, muttered -angry oaths beneath his breath. Then like the ripple of innumerable -waves, an hundred exclamations rose from every corner of the court. -Lord Rochester was seen to whisper animatedly to the king. Mistress -Peyton turned and held hurried converse with Sir John Ayloffe, who -sat at her elbow. A few women tried to titter; the lowering cloud of -scandal made vain endeavour to spread itself over the head of that -slender girl who stood there before the judge, fearless and impassive -beneath this gathering tempest of sneers and evil words. - -She had heard the muttered oath, spoken by lips that she had already -learned to dread, and her calm, blue eyes, serene as the skies of her -native Provence, sought the lonely figure beneath the mullion, and -rested on it with a look of challenge and of defiance. She had meant -and desired to be loyal to him, she would have clung to him through -sorrow and loneliness, humiliation and derision, if need be, but Fate -had been too strong for her. The man she loved was in peril of his life -and could only be saved at the sacrifice of her own loyalty and of her -honour. - -There had never been any conflict within her. The moment she knew how -the accusation stood against her beloved, she mapped out her course and -never swerved. - -Come contumely and disgrace, public scandal and her own undoing, she -was ready for it all. It had been over-easy to guess what had occurred: -how Michael had come to be accused of that which was threatening his -cousin. Rose Marie understood it, even as if she had been present at -the interview between the two kinsmen, when one man sold his life for -the other's loyalty and for her happiness. - -All this and more her glance across the court told to Rupert Kestyon. -It told him that ready as she had been to follow him even at the cost -of her own misery, she was not ready to pay for his safety with the -life of the man whom alone she loved. - -Michael may have sinned. He did sin, no doubt, against God and -against her, but God of a truth had made him suffer enough. It was -Rupert's turn now to pay, and pay he must. Small coin it was, for his -child-wife's disgrace, his own humiliation at the inevitable scandal -and consequent gossip was but small money indeed beside the boundless -wealth of self-sacrifice which Michael had been ready to throw in his -cousin's lap. - -Perhaps that something of the magnetism which emanated from her -personality, perhaps the subtle and mysterious magic which Love -exercises over all who think and who feel, affected these people who -were present at this memorable scene. Certain it is that there were -but very few men and women in this stately hall who did not feel an -undefinable sense of sympathy for the three chief actors of the drama -which they were witnessing. - -The Lord Chief Justice--at best a hard and cynical man of the world, -a man on whom history hath cast a mantle of opprobrium--was strangely -impressed. He had watched the girl very closely whilst she spoke, had -noted the looks which passed between father and daughter and thence -across to the prisoner at the bar, and something of the truth of the -soulful sacrifice which all three were prepared to make dawned upon his -alert brain. - -His words were the first clear tones that rose above the babel of -whisperings and titters; he turned directly to Master Legros and -addressed him personally, speaking in fluent French. - -"Your daughter, Master," he said, "hath made a strange statement. Do -you endorse its purport?" - -"My daughter spoke the truth, milor," replied Papa Legros quietly, -"and I endorse every word which she hath said." - -"Upon your oath?" - -"On mine oath." - -"It is false, my lord," murmured Michael still feebly, but making -frantic efforts to keep his wandering spirits in bondage. "It is false, -on my soul--I was in Paris--not at St. Denis--the lady is unknown to -me--I am guilty." - -"You hear the prisoner's protest, Master?" queried the judge, once more -speaking directly to Legros. "If your statement be true, he is your -bitter enemy." - -"He did my daughter a great wrong, my lord, but he is an innocent man, -unjustly accused of a grave crime. I cannot let him die for that which -he hath not done." - -"Yet doth he protest his guilt." - -"'Tis natural that he should thus protest, my lord. He hath taken on -his own shoulders the burden of another. Yet I would have you believe -that I would not stand by now, and see my daughter sacrificing her good -name for any cause save that of truth." - -Papa Legros spoke with so much simplicity, such perfect dignity, and -withal had made so logical a statement, that it seems impossible to -imagine that it should not carry at least as much conviction to the -minds of judge and jury and of all the assembly as the obviously lying -statements of the informers had done. Yet such was the temper of the -times, such the wave of intolerant fanaticism which had passed over -the country, that even whilst good Master Legros was stating so noble -and simple a point of truth, the first murmurs of dissent against him -and his daughter rose throughout the hall: whispered words of "foreign -papist," of "prejudiced witnesses," of "a wench and her lover," flew -from mouth to mouth. - -Rose Marie, whose sensibilities were attuned to their highest pitch, -felt this wave of antipathy, even before its first faint echo had -actually reached her ears. - -She was quite clever enough to know that the simple mention of an -actual fact by herself and her father would not be sufficient to turn -the tide of judicial sympathy back toward Michael, after the perjuries -of men who had for some time now been exalted into popular heroes; she -had, alas, known only too well that she had not yet reached the summit -of that Calvary which she had set herself to climb for the loved one's -sake. - -There were yet many cups of bitter humiliation which she and her kind -father would have to drain ere an innocent man was forbidden to give -his life for another, and the first of these was being held to her lips -even now by the Attorney-General, as he said, turning once more to her: - -"You are aware, Mistress, of these statements to which your father hath -sworn in open court. Do you on your own account and independently of -your father, add your sworn testimony to his?" - -"I do, sir," she replied; "I swear, quite independently of what my -father hath said, that on the evening of the 19th day of April, when -the false witnesses aver that my lord of Stowmaries was in Paris, he -was at St. Denis with me." - -"You are quite sure of the date?" - -"Am I like to forget?" - -"Odd's fish!" he retorted, with a sarcastic curl of the lips, "when a -pretty wench is in love." - -"I am the wife of Rupert Kestyon, formerly styled my lord of -Stowmaries," she rejoined with calm emphasis. "Had my father kept -silent, had he not endeavoured to clear an innocent man of an unjust -charge by giving up that which he holds most dear--his daughter's -honour and his own good name--had he remained silent, I say, then would -the accused have suffered death, my husband would have succeeded to -his title and estates, and I would have duly become the Countess of -Stowmaries and Rivaulx, the richest, mayhap the most honoured lady in -this beautiful land. Think you, then, that 'tis the caprice of wanton -love that would make me swear what I did? Think you that--unless truth -and honour itself compelled him--my father would lend a hand to the -degradation of his own child?" - -What Michael endured in agony of mind throughout this time, it -were almost impossible to conceive. Imagine that type of man--the -adventurer, the soldier of fortune, the carver of his own destiny, good -or bad, the dictator of his own fate! Imagine that man for the first -time in his life rendered absolutely helpless the while his fate, his -life, was being decided on by others. After those first mad and useless -protests, after that wild struggle for freedom of speech, for the right -to refuse this whole-hearted sacrifice, this offering of the lily on -the altar of love, he had remained silent, with his head buried in his -hands, driving his finger nails into his own flesh, longing with a mad -longing of pain to find a means of ending his own existence here and -now, before his snowdrop had suffered the full consequences of her own -heaven-born impulse. - -Ye gods above! And he--Michael--had doubted her love for him! Fool, -fool that he had been, even for a moment, even in thought to give -her up to another. He who had ever been ready to account for his own -actions, who with the arrogant pride of fallen angels had always looked -his own sins in the face, grinning, hideous monsters though they may -have been--how came it that when first she spoke cold words to him he -did not then silence them with a kiss, how came it that he did not then -and there take her in his arms, defying the laws of men, for the sake -of the first, the greatest of God's laws which gives the woman to the -man? - -Fool that he had been to think of aught save love, and of love alone. - -And all the while, Rose Marie, calm and still as the very statue of -abnegation, was completing her work of self-immolation. When the -Attorney-General-with sneering lips and mocking eyes threw discredit on -those statements which she and her dear father were making at the cost -of their own honour, she felt the first terrible pang of fear. Not for -herself or her future, but for him whom she longed to save and lest -her sacrifice be made and yet remain useless. Just for that moment, -her serenity gave way. She looked all round her on that sea of jeering -faces, longing to cry for help, just as with her whole attitude she had -until this moment only called for justice. - -Once more her eyes lighted on Rupert Kestyon, her husband, throwing him -a challenge, which now had almost become a prayer. He could if he would -help her even now. She had become naught to him, of course. Whatever he -said could not add to her disgrace; but he could help to save Michael -if he would. - -She met his lowering glance, the look of hatred and wrath which -embraced her and her father, and the obstinate set of jaw and lips -which spoke of the determination to win his own safety, his own -advancement and the furtherance of his own ambition now and at any cost. - -But when the iron determination of a woman who loves, and who fights -for the safety of the man she loves, comes in contact with the cold -obstinacy of a man's ambition, then must the latter yield to the -overwhelming strength of the other. - -Rupert Kestyon could have saved Michael at cost of his own immediate -exaltation, and thus saved Rose Marie a final and complete humiliation, -but this, his every look told her that he would not do. Therefore after -that quick glance, her eyes no longer challenged him; she feared that -if she dragged him forcibly into this conflict with perjury, his own -self-interest would make a stand against justice. Heaven alone knew to -what evil promptings his ambition would listen at the moment, when the -one life--already so splendidly jeopardised--stood between him and the -title and wealth which he coveted. - -She did not know that any one save her father and herself could speak -with certainty as to that memorable evening of April nineteenth when -she went forth--cruel, cold and resentful--leaving Michael alone and -desolate at the inn of St. Denis. - -Even now the Attorney-General, fresh to the charge, pressed her with -his sarcastic comments. - -"You speak well, fair Mistress," he said blandly, "but you know no -doubt that your story needs corroboration. Two witnesses who are -Englishmen and members of our National Church have sworn that the -prisoner spent the evening of April the nineteenth in treasonable -converse with an enemy of this country and in their presence; mark -you that the accused himself hath confessed to his guilt. Yet do you -swear that he spent that day and evening in your company, until so -late that a cruel father came and dragged you away from the delectable -privacy. But with all due acknowledgment to the charm of your presence, -Mistress," added Sir William Jones, suddenly dropping his bland manner -and speaking with almost studied insolence, "you must see for yourself -that if a wench desires that she be credited, she must above all bear a -spotless reputation, and this on your own acknowledgment you flung to -the winds, the day that you--avowedly married to Mr. Rupert Kestyon, -formerly styled Earl of Stowmaries--did publicly flout your marriage -vows by leaving your father's house in company with the accused. Now -justice, though blind, my wench, doth wish to see farther than a minx's -tale which mayhap hath been concocted to save her gallant from the -block." - -The girl had not winced at the insults. Happily her father had not -understood them, and the issue at stake was far too great to leave room -for vain indignation or even for outraged pride. What bitter resentment -she felt was for Michael's sake. She knew how every insolent word -uttered by that bland cynic in the name of the law and of justice, -would strike against the already-overburdened heart of the man who -loved her with such passionate adoration. The impotence that weighed on -Michael now was of a truth the most bitter wrong to bear in the midst -of all this misery. Samson bound and fettered was helpless in the hands -of the Philistines. Prometheus chained to the rock saw the vultures -hovering over him and the eagles pecking at his heart. - -"As to that, sir," replied Rose Marie quietly, after a brief pause, -"these honourable gentlemen here whom you call the jury will have to -judge for themselves as to who hath lied: those other witnesses or -I--they who have everything to gain, or I and my father, who have -everything to lose. But you say that the justice of this land will need -corroboration of our statements ere she turns to right an innocent -man. This corroboration, sir, you shall have, an you will tell me what -form it shall take." - -"Some other witness of the prisoner's presence in your company at the -inn of St. Denis during the day and evening of April nineteenth," -retorted Sir William Jones brusquely. - -"I know only of the innkeeper himself and his wife," she rejoined. -"Simple folk to whose testimony--seeing the temper of the people of -England just now--you would scarce give credence, mayhap." - -"Mayhap not," quoth the Attorney-General mockingly. - -"Yet think again, Mistress," interposed the Lord Chief Justice not -unkindly, "corroboration the law must have--if not to right the -innocent then to punish the guilty." - -The young girl's eyes closed for a moment. She clung to her father in -pathetic abandonment; beads of perspiration stood on her forehead; her -eyes were dry and hot and her throat parched. But for Papa Legros' -presence mayhap her magnificent calm would have deserted her then. She -drew herself together, however, and a look of understanding passed -between father and daughter. Then the tailor drew a paper from his -pocket. - -It was a large and heavy document and it bore two huge seals engraved -with the arms of the Holy See. This Papa Legros gave into an usher's -hand, who in his turn handed it up to the Lord Chief Justice. - -"What is this paper?" queried His Lordship. - -"It is a dispensation, my lord," replied Rose Marie firmly, "signed by -His Holiness the Pope, as you will see. It was granted to my husband, -Rupert Kestyon, then styled my Lord of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, giving -him leave to avail himself of the laws of England, which would, on his -request, annul his marriage with one Rose Marie Legros, who did on -the nineteenth day of April, 1678, break her sworn marriage vows by -contracting with Michael Kestyon a--" - -But even as the awful words trembled on the girl's lips, Michael's -restraint completely gave way. Despite the soldiers around him--who -of a truth were taken by surprise--despite the hopeless futility of -his former attempt--he broke through the rank of musketeers who were -surrounding him, and with a cry as that of a wild animal wounded unto -death, he bounded forward to where his snowdrop stood, and with one arm -round her, pressing her to him with all the strength of passion held in -check so long, he, with the other hand placed upon her mouth, smothered -the word which would have escaped her lips. - -"My lord, my lord," he cried, "is this justice? Sire, you are here -present! Where is your kingly power? Will you not stop this desecration -of the purest, holiest thing on earth? Are we in the torture chambers -of our forefathers that men in England will listen unmoved to this?" - -He had taken the guard so completely by surprise that the men were -still standing mute and irresolute, the while the prisoner with defiant -head erect challenged the king himself to intervene. He had sunk on one -knee, his arm still round the form of his beloved. No one would have -dared to touch him then, for he was like a wild beast defending its -mate. - -Rose Marie's strength had indeed failed her at last; when she felt -herself falling against the breast of the man whom she so ardently -loved, all her calm, all her resolution suddenly gave way. Once more -she was the woman, the pure, tender-hearted, gentle-nurtured child, -content to rest in the protecting arms of her lord, content to live for -his happiness, or to share his disgrace. - -"If I feared you before, my lord--meseems that I could love you now," -her cold lips seemed to murmur the echo of the very first words of love -which they had ever uttered. - -And a groan of agony escaped the poor blackguard's overburdened heart. -No longer splendid now, no longer defiant or proud--but humbled from -his self-exalted state of arrogant manhood. And she, the slender -water-lily, had of her own free will allowed the mud of a polluted -world to soil the exquisite whiteness of her gown. She had descended -from her lofty pedestal of saint-like aloofness, in order to link her -fate to his--her sins to his--her life and love to his own. Fate and -the overwhelming love of a woman had conquered his will. - -"I am a man and what I do, I do!" - -"No!" love triumphant had retorted, "for what _I_ command that must -thou do. I am the ruler, thou my slave! Whoever thou art, I am thy -master and the arbiter of thy destiny!" - - - - - CHAPTER XLVIII - - And not ever - The justice and the truth o' the question carries - The due o' the verdict with it. - --HENRY VIII. V. 1. - - -At Michael's call, at his sudden rush for the protection of his -beloved, general confusion prevailed such as had never before been -witnessed in the sober halls of Westminster. - -Gorgeously-clad gentlemen of high degree, ladies in silks and brocades, -elbowed and pushed one another, climbing on their chairs, in order -to have a clear view of the small group on the floor of the hall at -the foot of the judge's bench--Michael kneeling on one knee, Rose -Marie half prostrate on the ground, Papa Legros with large coloured -handkerchief mopping his streaming forehead. - -These were times when men gave freer rein to their emotions than they -do now; they were not ashamed of them, and modern civilisation had not -yet begun to propagate its false doctrine that only what is ugly and -sordid is real, and what is fine and noble--and therefore mayhap a -trifle unbridled and primitive--is false and must be suppressed. - -That public feeling had--with characteristic irresponsibility--veered -round to the accused and to these two witnesses was undoubted. The -poignancy of the situation had told on every one's nerves. It had been -a moving and palpitating drama, vivid, real and pulsating with love, -the noble passion that makes the whole world kin. - -The same men and women who awhile ago had clamoured for the traitor's -head, who had heaped opprobrium, invectives and curses upon him, were -now quite prepared to demand his acquittal, with as little logic in -their sympathy as they had shown in their unreasoning vituperations. -The same primeval vices of bigotry and intolerance that had presided -at the trials of Stailey and Coleman and sent them to the gallows, sat -here in judgment, too, equally intolerant of contradiction, equally -bigoted and peremptory. - -In the midst of this unprecedented turmoil which had turned stately -Westminster Hall into an arena filled with wildly-excited spectators, -the ushers' loud calls for silence were absolutely drowned. Nor could -the Attorney-General and the Lord Chief Justice make themselves heard -by the jury, even though his lordship did his best to admonish these -twelve honourable gentlemen not to allow their sentiment to run away -with their conscience. - -"Justice, good Masters, justice above all! Remember these people are -all Papists. They will help one another through thick and thin. What is -a papal dispensation, good Masters? It can be bought and bartered. 'Tis -a true witness we want, an honourable witness to prove the truth of -what may be but a fabulous concoction, devised to cheat the gallows of -a traitor." - -"Nay, then odd's fish!" here interposed a loud voice from out the -crowd; "since it must be, it shall be, and here, my Lord Justice, is a -witness to your hand whose honourability I'll challenge you to doubt." - -The tones rang clear and loud; they were those of a man accustomed to -be heard in large or small assemblies, of a man who knew how to make -his presence felt and his word obeyed. - -Instantly the waves of murmurs, of cries, of excited whispers were -stilled. Eyes so long fixed on the moving spectacle at the foot of the -bench were turned in the direction of the speaker. - -It was my Lord of Rochester, standing beside the king. He waited a -moment, then taking the judge's silence for assent, and obviously -encouraged by a nod from His Majesty himself, he made his way to the -witness bar. - -"My Lord of Rochester," protested the Attorney-General sternly, "by -what right do you come forward at this hour?" - -"By the right that every man hath in England, to bear testimony for or -against a man or woman accused of crime," replied my Lord of Rochester. -"I stand here as a witness on behalf of the prisoner, and called by the -other witness--Rose Marie Legros--to corroborate what she already hath -said." - -"Do you swear?" - -"I'll swear to tell all the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me -God." - -"All on behalf of the accused?" sneered Sir William Jones. - -"Every word which I must utter will be in his favour, sir, seeing -that on the nineteenth day of April, I too, in company with Mister -Rupert Kestyon, then styled my Lord of Stowmaries and Rivaulx, and -with Sir John Ayloffe, were present at the Church of St. Gervais -where Mistress Rose Marie Legros did plight her troth to the accused. -We witnessed their departure from the church to the house of Master -Legros, tailor-in-chief to His Majesty the King of France, where -great festivities were then the order of the day. The accused and -Mistress Rose Marie Legros did start for St. Denis on that selfsame -afternoon in the presence of a vast number of spectators, from whom I -had detailed account of the event. We--that is Mister Rupert Kestyon, -Sir John Ayloffe and myself--did make for St. Denis less than an hour -after the accused and the lady had left the tailor's house. We arrived -at the inn of the 'Three Archangels' at ten of the clock and there -found the accused all alone, and we did stay with him, and supped with -him until far into the night. This do I swear on my most solemn oath, -and, therefore, any one who says that the accused was in Paris on the -evening of that nineteenth day of April is a liar and a perjurer--so -help me God!" - -My Lord of Rochester's lengthy speech was listened to in silent -attention. Michael, kneeling beside Rose Marie, scarcely heeded it. -What happened to him now or hereafter mattered so little, now that he -knew that she loved him with that strength which moveth mountains. - -But to the vast company assembled here, all that my Lord of Rochester -said mattered a great deal, for it was a confirmation of inward -convictions. It gave sympathy free rein, having crowned it with -justification. - -Even Sir William Jones felt that the prosecution had completely broken -down beneath the weight of my Lord of Rochester's evidence. He meant -to demand further corroboration, seeing that Sir John Ayloffe was -in court; but it would be an uphill fight now, against what was too -obvious justice to be wilfully set aside. - -But he did ask my Lord of Rochester why he had delayed in coming -forward until well-nigh it had been too late. - -"I was ready to come forward at any time," was Rochester's simple -reply; "had the prisoner called me, I would have told the truth at -once. But among gentlemen, sir, there is an unspoken compact, guessed -at by those who understand one another as gentlemen should. That the -accused did not desire mine evidence I readily saw. Only when a noble -lady came forward in sublime sacrifice and I feared that this--great -as it was--might prove purposeless, then did I feel in honour bound to -corroborate her testimony and to prove her true, whilst placing at her -feet the expression of my most humble respect." - -To have doubted my Lord of Rochester's testimony had been madness in -the face of public feeling as well as of justice. No one would ever -attempt to suggest that his lordship was either a Papist or biassed -in favour of Roman Catholicism. Moreover, Sir John Ayloffe, also an -unimpeachably honourable gentleman, was there to add his word to that -of his friend. Sir William Jones having called him, asked him but a few -questions. - -What could Cousin John do, but swear to the truth? Believe me that had -he found the slightest loophole whereby he could even now arrange a -happy marriage between his fair cousin and any earl of Stowmaries who -happened to be bearing the title at the time, he would have done it, -and earned that £12,000 which now certainly seemed hopelessly beyond -his grasp. - -But he could find no loophole, nor could he attempt to deny the truth -of what Lord Rochester had said. - -By the time Sir John Ayloffe had given what evidence was asked of him, -the spectators were loudly clamouring for the verdict. - -"Not guilty! Not guilty!" came in excited shouts from the furthermost -corners of the great hall. - -Of a truth had the informers been recalled they could not have escaped -with their lives, and as a measure of precaution the Lord Chief -Justice, before he began his summing up, did, we know, order the -removal of Pye and Oates through a back door and unbeknown to the -crowd. Oates' villainies did, unfortunately, rise triumphant from out -the ashes of this his first signal defeat in his campaign of perjuries. -As for Pye, he passed through that back door out of ken. I believe that -his name doth occur on several of the lists of witnesses brought up -against the unfortunate Papists during the whole feverish period of the -Popish plots, so we may assume that he continued his career of informer -with some benefit to himself. - -But in Westminster Hall to-day the verdict was a foregone conclusion. -Even whilst the Lord Chief Justice summed up--as he did, we are -told, most eloquently and entirely in favour of the accused--he was -frequently interrupted by cries of: "Not guilty! Not guilty! The -verdict!" - -When the verdict was pronounced, with absolute unanimity by the jury -in whose hands lay the life that had been so nobly fought for, it was -received with acclamation. - -Men and women cheered to the echoes, whilst many voices shouted: "God -save Your Majesty!" There was a general rush for the centre of the -Hall, there where that small group of three still stood isolated. The -musketeers had grave difficulty in keeping any order. - -In the midst of all this turmoil no one noticed that from the dark -corner beneath the mullioned window there rose the figure of a young -man dressed in rough clothes of sad-coloured cloth, whose pale face was -almost distorted by lines of passionate anger. - -He drew a mask over his face and made his way through the excited -crowd. Under cover of the confusion, the rushing to and fro, the -cheering for the acquitted and the king, he quietly passed out of -sight. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIX - - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, - Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, - A great-sized monster of ingratitudes. - --TROILUS & CRESSIDA III. 3. - - -That same evening in the small house in the parish of Soho, Michael sat -beside an old woman whose wrinkled, toil-worn hand he held tenderly in -his own. - -Life had dealt hardly with her, unaccustomed toil and a rough life had -done their work. Her sensibilities were blunted, almost extinct save -one--her love for her son. - -Obediently she had left her Kentish village, her miserable cottage, and -ungrateful garden, to come to London when first he bade her so to do. -She had exchanged her rough worsted kirtle for a gown of black silk, -soft and pliable to the touch. This she had done to please Michael, not -because she cared. It was many, many years since last she had cared. - -Humbly acceding to his wish she had lived in the house in Soho Square, -allowing herself to be tended by servants, she who awhile ago had -been scrubbing her own floors. To please him she had accepted all the -comforts, all the luxuries which he gave her. As for herself she had no -need of them. - -Then when he went away and she was all alone in the big house, save -for the army of mute and obedient servants round her, she had wept not -a little because she did not see her son. She knew not whither he had -gone, and when she asked any of the servants they gave no definite -answer, only seemed more mute, more obedient than before. - -But she did not complain. Michael was oft wont to go away like this, to -the wars mayhap; soon he would return all in good time and she would -see him again. Not the faintest echo from the great world outside -reached the lonely house in Soho Square; but then it had not reached -the Kentish village either, so old Mistress Kestyon was quite satisfied. - -To-night Michael had returned. She was over-glad to see him. It seems -he had not been wounded in the wars, for which she was over-glad. He -would not let her out of his sight, even when a visitor came desiring -speech with him. - -The visitor was Rupert Kestyon; the name hardly reached the feeble -intelligence, and the face conveyed no meaning. The old dame was quite -happy, however, for Michael sat beside her, holding her hand in his. -She did not understand much of what went on between the two men. They -were cousins, so Michael had said when first the young man entered and -he himself went forward to greet him and warmly took his hand. - -"You see me shamed before you, Coz," he said gravely. "You know that -had I had the control of my fate, I should be watching you now from the -height or depth of another world--" - -"You sent for me," said Rupert, in no way responding to the other's -cordiality. "I presume 'tis because you have something to say to me of -more importance than excuses for your happening to be alive." - -"Nay! There is nothing more important than that just now, Coz," -retorted the other quietly. "I sent for you because a chance of word -from your servant to mine revealed to me the fact that you were in -London. You came, no doubt, to see me hanged. A beautiful woman of whom -you, Coz, were never worthy, hath decided that I shall live." - -The word that Rupert uttered in response brought an ugly frown on -Michael's brow. - -"Cousin," he said sternly, "in your own interest I pray you cease this -wanton talk. I would have you know that I mean well by you." - -He drew from out his pocket the paper that had the seal of His Holiness -the Pope attached to it and handed it to Rupert, who with a savage oath -took it from him. - -"Here, Coz," he said, "is the papal dispensation which good M. Legros -gave into my hands when I parted from him at Westminster Hall. The -civil law of England will not take long in setting you free. What money -can accomplish, that it shall do to expedite your case. My word on it! -The lady will not defend it and the nullity of your marriage shall be -pronounced ere the first bud appears on the chestnut trees." - -"A free man and yet a beggar," murmured Rupert moodily. - -"Nay, nay, Cousin, why should you look on me as your enemy? Have I ever -acted as such? My mother, alas, is here as a proof that you and yours -were enemies to me, but I, not to you, 'pon my honour. I have no need -of great riches. The hundred and twenty thousand pounds with which you -gambled a year ago are yours, Cousin. Let us call them a loan which you -made me, and wherewith Fate hath worked its will for us. I give them -to you freely and with all my heart. You are not a beggar, you see, -and are free to marry whom you choose. You are still the cousin of, if -not the actual Earl of Stowmaries; many a pretty woman with taste and -ambition will--an I mistake not--smile on you. Life is full of joys yet -for you, Cousin, and Mistress Peyton will relent." - -While he thus spoke lightly, almost gaily, the frown of moodiness fled -from Rupert Kestyon's brow. He could not help but be gratified at his -cousin's generosity, even though his heart no longer turned toward the -faithless beauty whose callousness had killed in him all love for her. -But there were plenty of pretty women yet in England, thank God, and a -man well-born and well-connected could cut a very fine figure in London -society these days on one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. In the -far-off days in old Virginia he had been quite glad of as many pence. - -He was quite manly enough to thank his cousin warmly. But before he -went, he told Michael the news that had been all over London for some -day before the trial, namely, that beautiful Mistress Peyton had -finally decided to bestow her hand and fortune and her heart--on John -Ayloffe. - -Good Cousin John! Confronted with beggary and the irretrievable loss -of that £12,000, he had bethought himself of the only plan whereby the -latter goodly sum could, after all, find its way into his own pocket. - -The money with the lady was his only chance, and we are told that he -took it boldly, even contriving not to make too wry a face when the -capricious beauty--realising that Cousin John was her only hope of -matrimony now that her name had been so plentifully bespattered with -ridicule--decided to bestow her £20,000, her house and her person, on -the one man who would accept. - -Cousin John became exceedingly fat after his marriage, for he led a -life of ease and comfort even though his former merry haunts knew him -no more. - - - - - CHAPTER L - - And o'er the hills and far away, - Beyond their utmost purple rim, - Beyond the night, across the day, - Thro' all the world she followed him. - --TENNYSON. - - -Michael did not see Rose Marie in England, for her father had taken her -away that same evening, after the acquittal, and journeyed with her -forthwith to Paris. - -And it was in the little room of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie that -Michael once more beheld his snowdrop. It was December now and the room -was filled with Christmas roses. Outside, the snow lay heavy on the -ground. Maman Legros, with sleeves well rolled up over her sturdy arms, -was stirring the contents of her stock-pot. Papa--a little more grey, -a little more bent, mayhap, than he had been a year ago--was staring -silently into the fire. - -Rose Marie sat at her harpsichord in the window embrasure, and sang -to her own accompaniment. Through the panes of the leaded window the -pale rays of a December sun lit up the golden radiance of her hair, and -rested on her hands as they wandered over the ivory keys. - -Thus Michael saw her again after all these months of suffering. He -stood for a moment in the doorway, for happiness at times is more -difficult to bear than grief. But Love was triumphant at last. The -splendid blackguard, the reckless adventurer, was only an humble lover -now. He gazed on his snowdrop with eyes wherein ardent passion mingled -with deep reverence. - -Let the veil of oblivion be drawn across those leaded windows; let it -shut out all light which comes from the outer world. Michael at Rose -Marie's feet forgot all save that he had won her--the pure, stainless -girl--even through the infinity of her pity which had first called into -being her infinite love. - -Papa and Maman Legros, looking on their child's exquisite face, -suffused now with the glow of perfect love and perfect trust, exchanged -a knowing look. - -Then they very softly tiptoed out of the room. - - - THE END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Noble Rogue, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NOBLE ROGUE *** - -***** This file should be named 60253-8.txt or 60253-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/5/60253/ - -Produced by Carlos Colon, the Harvard University and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. 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. - |