If my lady Betty was of a determined temper, my lord of Medhurst was no less so; being set on ridding his sister of his dangerous presence he contrived, so soon as her back was turned, to effect his exit through the window by means of his bed-clothes and sundry odds and ends of rope and cord he had found in the attics.
Darkness having fallen, the frantic search for him being over and the coast at last clear, the earl proceeded to squirm and clamber out of the disused water-butt that had been his hiding-place, knocked the dust and cobwebs from his person (dressed somewhat roomily in a suit of Viscount Merivale's clothes) and glided away into the shadows of the garden swift and silent as any ghost. Reaching the wall he scaled it lightly, paused to sweep off his hat and to blow a kiss towards his sister's window, then dropped into the lane; followed it a little way and, turning aside into the fields set off at a smart pace. Very soon he reached a small wood and had advanced but a little way in among the trees when his quick ears warned him that others were here before him; a bush rustled at no great distance and he caught the sound of a voice hoarse and subdued:
"... heard someone behind us I say!"
"'Twere a bird Joe, wood be full of 'em. 'Taren't our man, he'll come by th' field-path—hist! What's yon?" My lord's eyes sparkled as, settling his hat more firmly, he loosened sword in scabbard and stepped daintily into the open. Then came a sudden rustling of leaves, the muffled thud of hasty feet, and, by light of the rising moon, his lordship saw a tangle of vague forms, that twisted and writhed, and arms that rose and fell viciously; out came his steel and with the long, narrow blade a-glitter he leapt forward shouting blithely as he ran. He was close upon the combatants when one staggered and fell, another was beaten to his knees and then the earl was upon them. Now a light small-sword is an awkward weapon to meet the swashing blows of heavy bludgeons; therefore his lordship kept away, avoiding their rushes and fierce strokes by quickness of foot and dexterity of body; twice his twinkling point had darted vainly but his third thrust was answered by a snarling cry of pain and incontinent his two assailants took to their heels, whereupon his lordship uttered a joyous shout and leapt in pursuit but was staggered by a blow from behind and, reeling aside, saw his third assailant make off after the others. My lord feeling suddenly faint and sick, cursed feebly and dropped his sword then, hearing a groan near by, staggered across to the fallen man.
Thus Sergeant Zebedee presently opening his eyes looked up into the face above him, a face pallid in the moonlight and with a dark smear of blood on the cheek. Hereupon the Sergeant blinked, sat up and stared.
"Zounds!" he exclaimed. "If you ain't the poacher as vanished into air all I say is—Zooks!" His lordship nodded and smiled faintly.
"How goes it, Sergeant?" he questioned, swaying strangely from side to side as he knelt.
"A woundy rap o' the nob d'ye see lad, and more o' the same front and rear, but no worse thanks t'you and now—Gog and Magog, hold up lad! What, ha' they got you too?" His lordship tried to laugh but failing, smiled instead:
"Got me—aye!" he mumbled, "I—almost think—I'm going——" The words ended in a sigh and my lord Medhurst slipped limply to the ground and lay there. Muttering oaths in English, French and Dutch the Sergeant set hands to throbbing head and staring blankly about spied the sword near by; took it up, examined the point instinctively and nodding grimly contrived to set it back in scabbard. Then taking the inert figure in practised hold lifted him to broad shoulder and trudged sturdily off; but as he went the throbbing in his head seemed like hammer-strokes that deafened, that blinded him; yet on he strode nor paused nor stayed until the welcome lights of the Manor gleamed before him. As he plodded heavily on, he became aware of a voice hailing him above the thunderous hammer-strokes and he paused, reeling:
"Zeb, Sergeant Zebedee!"
"Here, sir!" he gasped hoarsely. Next moment the Major was beside him:
"Suffer me, Zebedee," said he, and taking the insensible form in his powerful arms, led the way into the house and so to the library, the Sergeant plodding doggedly in his rear. Laying his inert lordship upon a settee, the Major summoned Mrs. Agatha, who, seeing the Sergeant bruised and bloody screamed once, below her breath, and immediately became all womanly dexterity. Softly, swiftly she bustled to and fro; first came cordials and glasses, thereafter a bowl of water, sponges and soft linen and very soon beneath her able and gentle ministrations the earl sighed, opened languid eyes and sitting up, stared about him while Mrs. Agatha promptly turned her attention to the battered Sergeant.
"Faith, sir," said my lord apologetically, "I—I fear I was so foolish as to swoon——"
"But saved my life first, your honour," added the Sergeant, dodging Mrs. Agatha's sponge to say so, "and winged one o' the rogues into the bargain."
"Then sir," said the Major, "my deepest gratitude is yours. Sergeant Zebedee is—is an old comrade of mine a—a comrade and—and so forth as 'twere, my lord Medhurst."
Here the Sergeant blinked and opened his mouth so wide that Mrs. Agatha felt impelled to promptly fill it with the sponge.
"I trust sir," continued the Major, "you feel yourself a little recovered of your hurts?"
"O infinitely sir—quite, quite!" answered the earl and getting to his feet, staggered and sat down again. "A small vertigo sir, a trifling dizziness," he explained, more apologetically than ever, "but 'twill soon pass."
"Meantime," suggested the Major, viewing his pallor with sharp eyes, "I will, with your permission, send and notify my lady Carlyon of her brother's welfare."
Here, by reason of astonishment and Mrs. Agatha's sponge the Sergeant spluttered and choked:
"As to that sir," answered the earl, fidgeting, "I—faith! I had rather you didn't. And indeed, since you know who I am, 'twill be immediately apparent to you that the farther I am from Betty and the sooner I quit your roof, the better for all concerned——"
"On the contrary, sir," said the Major, "'tis for that very reason I offer you the shelter of my roof until——"
A rush of flying feet along the passage without, a fumbling knock and the door flying open discovered one of the maids her eyes round and staring in fearful excitement:
"Soldiers!" she cried, "O sir—O Mrs. Agatha—'tis the soldiers—all round the house—lanthorns and guns—I do be frighted to death!"
Mrs. Agatha dropped the sponge and uttering no word, pointed one plump finger at the frightened girl and stamped her foot; and before that ominous finger the trembling maid shrank and turning about incontinent fled, slamming the door behind her. For a breathless moment none moved. Then Medhurst rose a little unsteadily, glancing round rueful and helpless.
"So then—'tis ended!" he sighed. "My poor, sweet Bet! And you sir—you—my God, I must not be taken here for your sake!" and he sprang towards the window.
"Stay sir," said the Major gently, "'tis no use, the house is surrounded of course. Aye, I thought so——!" He nodded as in the dark beyond the curtained windows came the measured tramp of feet, a hoarse command and the ring of grounded muskets.
"Sir—sir," exclaimed Lord Medhurst, "God forgive me that I all unwitting as I was, should bring you to this black hazard."
"Nay, my lord," answered the Major, smiling into the earl's troubled face, "grieve not yourself on my account, 'twas I brought you hither knowing who you were, so do not reproach yourself, 'tis but the fortune of war. Hark, they are here, I think——"
"Then I'll go meet 'em!" said his lordship, "I'll give myself up—they shall never—take me!"
"Well said, sir," nodded the Major, his brow unruffled and serene, "we'll go together! Pray, Sergeant, open the door!"
"Don't, Sergeant, don't!" panted Mrs. Agatha, "wait—O—wait!" Thus, speaking, she sped across the room and, kneeling before the great fireplace, seemed to feel along the carved foliage of the mantel with frenzied fingers, then uttered a gasp of satisfaction: "Quick—quick my lord!" she panted. And even as she spoke the great hearthstone sank down endwise turning upon itself and disclosing a narrow flight of steps. The earl uttered a sound between a laugh and a sob, turned aside to take up hat and sword and, descending into the gloomy depths, glanced up blithe of eye and waved his hand as the stone swung back into place above him.
Then Mrs. Agatha rose, dusted her silken gown with her pretty white hands and curtseyed:
"Your honour," said she, "with your leave, I'll run out to my poor, silly, frighted maids!" and taking up bowl and sponges while the Sergeant opened the door, she rustled away. With the door still in his hand, Sergeant Zebedee turned to stare at the Major and found the Major staring at him.
"Sir," said he at last, "sir, she's—a——" here he paused to shake solemn head, "sir, she's the—sir—she—is—a—woman!"
"Zeb," answered the Major, sinking into a chair, "she—most—undoubtedly—is!"
But now the house was full of strange stir and hubbub, the tread and tramp of heavy feet, the clatter of accoutrements, and the ring of iron-shod muskets on stone-flagged hall.
"Sir," questioned the Sergeant, putting on his wig and re-settling his rumpled garments, "shall I go out to 'em?"
"Do so, Zeb, and bring the officer to me—here, in the library."
The officer in question, a tall and languid exquisite, found the Major at his desk, who, setting aside his papers, rose to give him courteous greeting.
"Ged, sir," he exclaimed returning the Major's stately bow, "you'll f'give this dem'd intrusion I trust—I'm Prothero, Captain o' Cleeve's, your very dutiful humble. You are Major d'Arcy, I think?"
"The same, sir, and yours to command."
"Let me perish, sir, 'tis an honour to meet you I vow and protest. Colonel Cleeve hath spoke of you—I've heard of you in Flanders also. All o' which doth but make an unpleasant duty—dem'd unpleasant. Regarding the which I may tell you that my lord Colonel is so put out over the business that he hath absented himself until our search here shall be over. But this Jacobite f'low is known to be i' these parts and my orders are to search every house——"
"And orders are to be obeyed!" smiled the Major. "Let your men search, sir, and meantime a glass or so of Oporto perhaps——?"
"Ged sir, your kindness smites me t' the heart I vow."
The bottle having duly been brought and the glasses filled the Captain rose and proposed:
"Sir, I give you 'Our Admirable Betty!' 'Tis a health much discussed in these parts o' late I believe, sir," said he, "aye and in London too. And the dem'dest strangest part on't is the man we hunt is her own brother—no less, sir! And since he is so here's wings to his heels say I, curst Jacobite though he be. But when a man is blessed with such a sister damn his politics, say I. And O Cupid, sir, what a crayture! Her shape! Her air! Her pretty, little, dem'd demure foot! I give you her foot, sir. And the pride of her! The grace of her! The dem'd bewitching enchanting entirety of her. I vow 'tis the dem'dest, charmingest piece o' feminine loveliness that ever lured mankind t' demnition. Demme sir, she's the sort o' goddess-crayture that gets into a f'low's blood—goes t' f'low's head like wine sir, makes a f'low forget duty, kindred, country, honour and even himself."
"You have searched my lady's house, I take it?" enquired the Major.
"Faith we have so, sir,—and herself to light us up-stairs and down. So gracious sir!So très debonnaire! So smiling and altogether dem'd sedoocing—O Lard!"
On this wise the Captain held forth until the wine was all gone, and his corporal came to announce that the house had been duly and thoroughly searched from cellar to attic, without success: whereupon the Captain rose, shook the Major's hand—babbled forth more apologies in melting, mellifluous accents, roared at his men and finally marched them out of the house and away.
The Major, leaning back somnolent in his great elbow-chair, fingers joined and head bowed, listened lethargically to the Sergeant who, sitting bolt upright, read aloud from the manuscript he held.
"'Vauban, in his instructions on the siege of Aeth, giveth notice of sundry salient angles all fortified, the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi-bastions——'"
Here the Major snored but so gently that the Sergeant, whose whole attention was centred on the written words, was proceeding all unaware when a small, roundish object hurtled across the room, smote the Major softly upon the cheek and fell to the floor; hereupon the Major opened sleepy eyes.
"Certainly, Zeb!" said he. "Egad you're in the right on't—er—I fear my attention was wandering as 'twere—though I listen very well with my eyes shut!"
The Sergeant lowered the manuscript to stare, round-eyed:
"Anan, sir?" he enquired.
"Go on again, Zeb—this chapter on Salient Angles must be clear and concise as possible. Proceed, Zebedee—we'd got as far as the siege of Aeth, I think." Saying which, the Major closed his eyes again and Sergeant Zebedee, nothing loth, went on:
"'—the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi——'"
Once again a small missile flew with unerring aim, struck the Major on the chin and rebounded on to the desk.
The Major started, rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"What now, Zeb?" he enquired. The Sergeant, lowering the manuscript again, stared harder than ever.
"Sir?" he enquired.
"Something—er—touched me I think Zeb!"
"Touched you, sir! Zounds, here's but you and me, your honour!"
"Strange!" mused the Major, rubbing his chin, "very strange, Zeb, I must ha' dreamed it, though I distinctly felt——" He leaned forward suddenly and picked up from the desk before him a half-opened moss rosebud. With this in his fingers he turned towards the open casement behind the Sergeant's chair and beheld a face, all roguish witchery and laughter, and two white hands held out to him.
"Help me in, John—help me in!" she commanded. In an instant the Major was across the room, had clasped those slender hands and my lady, mounting the low sill, stood a moment framed in the heavy moulding of the long window, a very picture of vigorous young womanhood; then leaping lightly down with flashing vision of dainty feet and ankles, she crossed to where the Sergeant stood, very erect and upright, and setting her two hands upon his broad shoulders, smiled up at him radiant-eyed.
"Sergeant Zebedee," said she, "dear Sergeant Zebedee you must be vastly strong to have carried my brother so far. Stoop down!"
Wondering, the Sergeant obeyed and immediately felt the pressure of two warm, soft lips on his smooth-shaven cheek; whereupon he flushed, blinked and stood at attention. "Did you like it, Sergeant?" she enquired.
"My lady, all I can say is—mam I—I did, your ladyship."
"Then stoop again, Sergeant!" With an apologetic glance towards the Major he obeyed and my lady kissed his other cheek. Then she turned and looked at the Major with glistening eyes. "O!" she cried, "I am come overflowing with gratitude to you all for my dear brother's sake. I owe you his life—but for you he—he would be——" Her deep bosom swelled and she bowed her head. "Charles is very—very dear to me and—you saved him to me. O pray, John, may I see Mrs. Agatha?"
Here, at a sign from the Major, Sergeant Zebedee strode from the room shutting the door carefully behind him: and as it closed they were in each other's arms.
"Jack!" she murmured. "My noble John!"
"Nay, beloved," he sighed, "dream not 'twas I. Sergeant Zebedee found him and but for Mrs. Agatha——"
"O my scrupulous man, art afraid lest I do think too well of thee? Art frighted lest I give thee more gratitude than thy just due? Indeed but Charles hath told me all and I do know 'twas these arms bore him 'neath thy roof, 'twas thy brave heart sheltered him and was ready to face ignominy with him. But indeed if you have no—no will to—kiss me——" The Major kissed her until she sued for mercy. Thereafter, throned in his great chair, she surveyed the bare chamber with gentle eyes: "'Tis a great house, John," she nodded, "and this, a barren corner—and yet, meseemeth, 'tis not so—so outrageously desolate as it was."
"My Betty," he answered, "I do but live for the time when it shall be brightened by thy sweet presence, its floors know the light tread of these dear feet, its walls the music of thy voice and—thy love make it 'home' for me at last."
"'Deed John but you do grow poetical—though perchance thy style might not please Sir Benjamin or Sir Jasper or—O John how I have laughed and laughed——"
Here came a gentle rapping on the door and being bidden enter, Mrs. Agatha appeared demure and smiling, dropped a curtsey to the Major, another to my lady and then she was caught in gentle embrace and kissed.
"Why Mrs. Agatha!" exclaimed my lady, "dear Mrs. Agatha, how pretty you are! 'Tis seldom wit and beauty go together! Thank you, my dear, for a brother's life. For service so great there are no words—nought to repay. But take this and wear it in memory of a sister's gratitude!" And speaking, my lady took a necklet from her own white throat and clasped it about Mrs. Agatha's neck. "But for you," she sighed, "but for you I should have lost my only brother and—" my lady faltered, then, meeting Mrs. Agatha's gentle glance, threw up proud head, "and one I love—beyond all!"
"My lady—O my lady!" cried Mrs. Agatha, "Heaven send you happiness now and ever—both!" Then stooping, she kissed my lady's hand and was gone.
My lady crossed the room and seated herself in the Major's great elbow-chair while he, sitting on a corner of the desk gazed down at her with eyes of rapture.
"Well, Major John?"
"How—beautiful you are!" he sighed and she actually blushed and bowed her head.
"O—John!" she whispered.
"Surely many have told you so before?"
"Hosts, of course, dear Major!" she nodded.
"Aye, I fear I'm not very original," he sighed, "I'm awkward, I know, tongue-tied and mute when I would speak; but dear, my love doth 'whelm me so—poor, futile words are lost——"
"'Deed, sir," she answered demurely, "I find no fault with your powers of converse more especially when you grow personal. That remark, now, 'beautiful' was the word I think, being a woman such will never tire me—as you say them."
"Yet I do but echo what others have said before me."
"Aye, but you say it as no other man ever did—you speak it so sincerely and reverently as it had been a prayer, John."
"God knoweth I'm sincere, Betty."
"So do I, John," and taking the rosebud from the desk she began to open its petals with gentle fingers. So the Major sat gazing at her, wishing that she would lift her eyes and she, knowing this, kept them lowered of course.
"John," said she at last.
"Betty?"
"Sometimes you do seem almost—afraid to—touch me."
"I am."
"And wherefore?"
"Because even now there are times when I scarce can credit my wondrous happiness, scarce believe you can really love—such as I——"
"None the less I shall convince you once and for all—one day, Master Humility!"
And now she lifted her head at last and looked at him, and, thrilling to the revelation of that look, he leaned swiftly down to her, but then she put up gentle hand and stayed him.
"John," she murmured, "dear, when you look at me so you are not a bit humble, I know not if I fear you or—love you most. Stay, John, if my hair should come down and anyone see I—O then quick, John—there's aunt calling! Let us join the company ere we are fetched like truants. She is out on the terrace with Pancras and Mr. Marchdale who is a trifle trying at times being over-youthful and very soberly adoring. 'Chaste hour, soft hour, O hour when first we met!'" she quoted. "Indeed," she laughed, "'tis a very worshipful, humble youth so very unlike——"
"Mr. Dalroyd!" said the Major thoughtfully.
My lady started, the rosebud fell from relaxed fingers and she glanced up with a look in her eyes that might have been mistaken for sudden fear.
"Why—why do you name—him?" she questioned dully; but before he could answer came a knock at the door and Mrs. Agatha appeared to say that "tea was a-drinking on the terrace!"
They found Lady Belinda seated on the terrace before a tea equipage with Mrs. Agatha and a footman in attendance while beside her sat the Viscount, one arm in a sling, dutifully sipping a dish of tea and making wry faces over it.
"Gad love me, 'tis the washiest stuff!" he sighed.
"O dear Major, hark to the naughty wanton!" cried Lady Belinda as the Major bowed over her hand, "First he nigh breaks his neck knocking at fences and now miscalleth tea!"
"Knocks at fences, aunt?"
"Truly, he tells me his horse budged, took off something or other, was very short about it, knocked at a fence and fell—which is not to be wondered at."
"Faith, Viscount," said Mr. Marchdale looking puzzled "'tis a fierce and dangerous beast that grey o' yours but I don't quite see——"
"Nay," smiled the Viscount, "'twas that stiffish fence beyond Meadowbrook Bottom—the Colonel put his Arab at it and cleared but my grey balked, took off short, rapped, came down on his head and I came by a sprained arm and shoulder."
"'Twas all that Colonel Cleeve's fault, I dare swear," cried Lady Belinda, "he's a wild soul, I fear!"
"On the contrary, Aunt Belinda, he's a very noble fellow. And he bade me be sure carry you his humble duty." Here Lady Belinda blushed quite becomingly and perceiving the Viscount had contrived to swallow his tea, forthwith filled him more despite his expostulations.
"Drink it, Pancras," she commanded, "'tis soothing and sedative and good for everything—see how healthy the Chinamen are—so polite too and placid, I vow!"
"I'd no idea, mam," said the Major, "no idea that you and my old friend George were acquaint."
"It happened yesterday sir, in Sevenoaks, Sir Benjamin made us known."
"Talking of the Colonel," said Mr. Marchdale, "the village is all agog over the soldiers—they searched your house as well as my lady's I understand, sir?"
"They did!" nodded the Major.
"Consequently everybody is wondering what i' the world they wanted."
"Why Charles for sure!" answered Lady Betty, "they seemed to think we had him in hiding."
"Charles!" exclaimed Mr. Marchdale opening his mouth and staring, "O—Egad they—they didn't find him, of course!"
"No, and I pray God they never will, wherever he may be."
"Have you seen or heard from him since he rode for Scotland?" enquired Mr. Marchdale. "Because I——"
"More tea, Mr. Marchdale?" demanded Lady Belinda. Mr. Marchdale's feeble refusals were overruled and he was treated beside to a long exordium on the beneficent qualities of the herb, the while he gulped down the beverage to the Viscount's no small satisfaction. As for the Major, he was looking at Betty and she at him, and the Viscount's quick glance happening to rove their way and noting the look in the Major's eyes and the answering flush on her smooth cheek the Viscount's own eyes opened very wide, he pursed his lips in a soundless whistle and thereafter studiously glanced another way.
"Major d'Arcy sir," said Mr. Marchdale, gulping his tea and blinking, "I am come with an embassage to you, Tripp and the rest of us present their service and beg you'll join us at cards this evening—nothing big, a guinea or so——"
"Aye, go, nunky," nodded the Viscount, "I'm going over to try some new songs with Betty." Here Mr. Marchdale sighed heavily.
All too soon for the Major the ladies arose to take their departure.
"We are hoping, dear Major," said Lady Belinda, "that you will come in to supper one evening soon, you and Pancras——"
"With Colonel Cleeve, if he chance to be here still," added Betty.
The gentlemen bowed, the ladies curtseyed, and descended the terrace steps all stately dignity and gracious ease.
Left alone the Major stood awhile to enjoy the beauty of the sunset-sky and to sigh over the past hour; then slowly went into the house.
In the study he found Sergeant Zebedee who stood tentatively beside the desk.
"I was thinking, sir," said he, "that seeing the company is gone we might contrive to get through your chapter on Salient Angles at last!"
"A happy thought, Zeb—by all means."
So they sat down together then and there and the Sergeant took up the manuscript. It was then that the Major spied the fallen rosebud and glancing at the Sergeant stooped and picked it up almost furtively though all the Sergeant's attention was focussed, like his eyes, upon the foolscap in his hand; so, leaning back in his chair the Major raised the bud to reverent lips watching Sergeant Zebedee the while, who, clearing his throat with a loud "Hem!" began to read forthwith:
"'Vauban, in his instructions on the siege of Aeth, giveth notice of sundry salient angles all fortified, the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi-bastions...'"
The Major, puffing thoughtfully at his pipe and hearkening to Sir Benjamin's ponderous witticisms, kept his sharp eyes on the card-players opposite, Mr. Marchdale flushed and eager, the Marquis smiling and good-humoured, Lord Alvaston sleepy as usual and Mr. Dalroyd blandly imperturbable.
"Then, my dear sir, I gather you judge well o' that little flight o' mine t'other night?" enquired Sir Benjamin, "I mean the acrostic alliterative, how did it go——"
'Bewitching Bet, by bounteous beauty blessed'—
you think well on't, Major, eh?"
"Indeed sir, 'twas very ingenious."
"Od's body, sir, I think you've a judgment to be commended, I venture to opine it was ingenious—and therewith not lacking in wit, sir?"
"By no means, Sir Benjamin."
"To be sure the last line might be bettered, though it cost me a world o' thought. 'Twas if I remember:
'Yea you, yourself to yearn as beauty ought.'
Yet od's my life sir! I fail to see how it should be bettered. Y is an awkward, stubborn, damned implacable letter at best, sir."
"Truly a most awkward letter, Sir Benjamin."
Here Mr. Marchdale slammed down his cards petulantly.
"So!" he exclaimed, "that makes another fifteen guineas!"
"Twenty-five, my dear Marchdale!" smiled Mr. Dalroyd, taking up a new pack.
"How much ha' you lost, Alton?"
"Nothing much Tony, only ten or so."
"And you, Alvaston?"
"Nay I'm 'n odd guinea or so t' th' good, s' far," yawned his lordship.
"May I perish," exclaimed Mr. Marchdale, "but you and Dalroyd have all the luck, as usual!"
"I—I in luck?" exclaimed Alvaston, his sleepy eyes wider than usual, "stint y'r dreams and babble not, Tony! Whoe'er saw me win? Never had any measure o' luck since I was breeched, or before. And talking o' luck, Major, how goeth Merivale, how's poor Tom since his spill yesterday?"
"Bruised and sore, sir, but no worse, thank God. He'll be about again in a day or so."
"Tom rides like—like the devil, strike me blue if he don't!" said the Marquis.
"And just as reckless!" added Dalroyd.
"Aye, but here was none o' that. His horse balked a fence, rapped and went down with him. Brute'll kill him yet, damme if he don't!"
"Talking o' luck," pursued Alvaston, sorting his cards lazily, "never had any measure of it yet, either with cards, dice, horses or the sex. An' talkin' o' the sex, Tony my lad, what of its brightest and most particular, what of Bet, how speeds th' wooing?" Mr. Marchdale swore earnestly. "Oho!" murmured Alvaston, "doth she prove so cold and indifferent——"
"Neither one nor t'other, but I must ha' more time."
"Three days must suffice, Tony, 'twas so agreed. After you comes Ben and after Ben, Jasper and then after Jasper, West, with poor Ned and me left nowhere."
"Aye, but damme," quoth the Marquis, "what o' Dalroyd here?"
"Aye, where d'you come, Dalroyd?" queried Alvaston.
Mr. Dalroyd's nostrils worked and his white teeth gleamed. "I come nowhere, anywhere or everywhere," he answered, surveying his hearers beneath lowered eyelids. "A free-lance in love, I—to woo precisely how and where and—when, I choose." Here for an infinitesimal space of time his keen eye rested on the Major.
"You always were such a dem'd dumb dog!" quoth the Marquis.
"Close as 'n oyster!" murmured Alvaston.
"And he's lucky in cards and love, which ain't fair," grumbled Mr. Marchdale. "I've heard whispers of a handsome farmer's daughter not a hundred miles hence—eh, Dalroyd?"
"'Tis your turn to lead, Marchdale!" said Mr. Dalroyd, his lips a little grim.
"My fellow swears he saw you only t'other night—dev'lish late—with an armful o' loveliness——"
"You should kick your fellow for impertinence, Marchdale, and 'tis your turn to lead!"
"I'll be curst if I know what, then!" he exclaimed, slapping down a card at random. "There's Bet, now—and but one more day to win her! Who might win such a goddess in a day, 'tis preposterous——"
"I've heard," smiled Mr. Dalroyd, "yes, I've heard of women being won in less. And as to goddesses, Endymion sighed not vainly nor over long."
"Why as to that I progress—O I progress!" nodded Mr. Marchdale with youthful assertiveness, "she's all witching laughter and affection——"
"Unhappy wight!" exclaimed Mr. Dalroyd.
"Eh?" exclaimed Mr. Marchdale, wine-glass at lip, "How so?"
"Kind Venus save me from affection feminine!" smiled Dalroyd, "Where affection is passion is not. So give me burning love or passionate hate and she is mine."
"Od Dalroyd," interposed Sir Benjamin indignantly, "I say od's my life, sir, here's wooing most unorthodox, most unseemly i' faith!"
"But natural, Ben," retorted Dalroyd, "women love or hate as the wind bloweth. Your loving woman is very well though apt to cloy, but your hater—O Ben! Besides, all women love a little force—to force 'em willing is child's play, to force 'em hating—ah Ben, that methinks is man's play."
"Out on you, sir!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin. "Is it thus you'd win our incomparable, Our Admirable Betty?" Mr. Dalroyd threw down his cards and leaning back in his chair surveyed the indignant Sir Benjamin with his fleeting smile.
"She is a woman, Ben, and therefore to be won one way or t'other." And here once again his keen gaze rested momentarily on the Major's passive figure. As for Sir Benjamin, his face grew purple, his great peruke seemed to bristle again.
"Enough sir!" he cried, "Are we satyrs, hairy and unpolished, to creep, to crouch, to win by forceful fury what trembling beauty would deny? I say no sir—I say the day of such is long gone by I—I appeal to Major d'Arcy!"
The Major, being thus addressed, blew forth a cloud of smoke, fanned it away with his hand and spoke in his measured, placid tones:
"I fear sir, even in these days satyrs walk among us now and then though indeed they have covered their hairy and unpolished hides 'neath velvets and fine linen and go a-satyrizing delicately pulvilled. Yet woman, I take it, hath been granted eyes to see the brute 'neath all his dainty trappings."
Here there fell a moment's silence, for the company, quick to sense the sudden tenseness in the air, sat in rapt expectation of what was to be; perceiving which Mr. Dalroyd smiled again and the Major went on smoking. At last, when he judged the silence had endured long enough, Mr. Dalroyd spoke:
"Major d'Arcy, Ben's simile is perchance a little harsh, for he would have us all satyrs, in that at some time or other, every man doth seek, pursue and hunt the lovely sex to his own selfish end. Even you yourself, I dare swear, have dreamed dreams, have beheld a vision of some dainty beauty you would fain possess. I have, I do confess. Now, doth she yield—well and good! Doth she fly us, we pursue. And do we catch her—well, hate and love are kindred passions, nay indeed, hate is love's refinement, though both are passing moods. Indeed some women are preferable in the hating moods—to know the woman in one's arms hates one, there, sir, so 'tis said, is the very refinement of pleasure."
"Sir," said the Major gently, "I heard one say as much in Flanders years agone and I did my best to kill him and thought I had succeeded, but of late I have begun to entertain grave doubts and never more so than at this minute." Here fell a silence absolute.
Mr. Dalroyd's white lids flickered and into his eyes came a bodeful glare as he met the Major's placid but unswerving gaze and as they fronted each other thus, there fell a silence so absolute that the tick of a clock in distant corner sounded uncannily loud—a chair creaked, a foot scraped the floor, but save for this was silence, threatening and ominous, while Mr. Dalroyd glared at the Major and the Major, leaning back in his chair, stared at Mr. Dalroyd as if he would read the very soul of him. All at once came a whirr of springs and the clock began to chime midnight whereupon was sudden relaxation, chairs were moved, arms and legs stretched themselves.
"Od's my life—midnight already!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin in very apparent relief.
"Aye, faith!" yawned Alvaston, "Now is the witching hour when graveyards yawn——"
"No, no, Bob!" laughed Dalroyd, "Now is the witching hour when beauty coy doth flush and furtive steal to raptures dreamed by day. Now is the witching hour when satyrs in compelling arms——" he yawned, smiled and rose. "Howbeit sirs, I am summoned hence——"
"Ah—ah!" nodded Marchdale, "The farmer's daughter—the beauty o' the blue cloak—ha, lucky dog!"
"A blue cloak!" repeated Mr. Dalroyd, "Egad, your fellow's too infernally observant, Marchdale, you should really kick him a little." So saying, Mr. Dalroyd crossed to the corner and took up his sword, "Adieu gentlemen," said he, "I go, shall we say, a-satyrizing—no, 'twould shock our Ben, none the less I—go. Gentlemen, I salute you!" And bowing to the room Mr. Dalroyd sauntered away.
"Burn me!" exclaimed Alvaston, "the wine's near out, let's order up 'nother dozen or so an' make a night on't." This being agreed, the bottles presently made their appearance, glasses clinked and the company began to grow merry. But after two or three toasts had been called and honoured, the Major arose, made his excuses, and calling for his hat, sword and cane, presently took his departure.
It was a glorious summer night, the moon riding high in a cloudless heaven, a night full of a tranquil quietude and filled with the thousand scents of dewy earth. Before him stretched the wide road, a silver causeway fretted with shadows, a silent road where nothing moved save himself.
Thus, joying in the beauty of the night, Major d'Arcy walked slowly and took a roundabout course, and a distant clock chimed the hour of one as he found himself traversing a small copse that abutted on his own property.
In this place of light and shadow a nightingale poured forth his liquid notes rilling the leafy mysteries with ecstatic song; here the Major paused and setting his back to a tree, stood awhile to hearken, lost in a profound reverie.
And into this little wood came two who walked very close together and spoke in rapt murmurs; near they came and nearer until the Major started and looking up beheld a woman who wore a blue cloak and whose face, hidden beneath her hood, was turned up to the eager face of him who went beside her. The Major, scowling and disgusted thus to have stumbled upon a vulgar amour and fearing to be seen, waited impatiently for them to be gone. But they stopped within a few yards of him, half screened from view behind a tangle of bushes. Hot with his disgust, the Major turned to steal away, heard a cry of passionate protest, and glancing back, saw the woman caught in sudden fierce arms, viciously purposeful, and drawn swiftly out of sight.
"Mr. Dalroyd," said my lady gently, lying passive in his embrace, "pray turn your head." Wondering, he obeyed and stared into the muzzle of a small pocket pistol. "Dear Mr. Dalroyd—must I kill you?" she smiled; and he, beholding the indomitable purpose in that lovely, smiling face, gnashed white teeth and loosing her, stood back as the Major appeared.
For a tense moment no one moved, then with an inarticulate sound Mr. Dalroyd took a swift backward step, his hand grasping the hilt of his small-sword; but the Major had drawn as quick as he and the air seemed full of the blue flash and glitter of eager steel. Then, even as the swift blades rang together, my lady had slipped off her cloak and next moment the murderous points were entangled, caught, and held in the heavy folds.
"Shame sirs, O shame!" she cried. "Will you do murder in my very sight? Loose—loose your hold, both of you—loose, I say!" Here my lady, shaking the entangled blades in passionate hands, stamped her foot in fury. The Major, relinquishing his weapon, stepped back and bowed like the grand gentleman he was; then Mr. Dalroyd did the same and so they stood facing each other, my lady between them, the bundled cloak and weapons clasped to her swelling bosom; and it was to be remarked that while Mr. Dalroyd kept his ardent gaze bent upon her proud loveliness, the Major, tall and stately, never so much as glanced at her.
"Sir," said he, "our quarrel will keep awhile, I think?"
"Keep—aye sir!" nodded the other carelessly, "you'll remark the farmers in these parts beget goddesses for daughters, sir."
"Major d'Arcy," said my lady, "take your sword, sir."
The Major, keeping his eyes averted, sheathed the weapon and forthwith turned his back; and as he limped heavily away was aware of Dalroyd's amused laughter. He walked slowly and more than once blundered into a tree or tripped over manifest obstacles like one whose eyesight is denied him, and ever as he went Mr. Dalroyd's triumphant laughter seemed to ring in his ears.
Thus at last he came out of the shadow of the little wood, but now was aware of the tread of quick, light feet behind him, felt a hand upon his arm and found my lady at his side. Then he stopped and drawing from her contact glanced back and saw Mr. Dalroyd watching them from the edge of the coppice, his arms folded and the smile still curling his lips; my lady saw him also and with a passionate gesture bade him begone, whereupon he flourished off his hat, laughed again, and bowing profoundly, vanished amid the trees. Then they went on side by side, my lady quick-breathing, the Major grim and stately—a very grand gentleman indeed.
At last they reached a lane whose high banks sheltered them from all chance of observation; here my lady paused.
"O John," she murmured, "I'm so—so weary, prithee don't hurry me so!" The Major, mute and grim, stared straight before him. "John?" said she tenderly. At this he turned and looked at her and before that look my lady cried out and cowered away. "John!" she cried in frightened wonderment.
"Madam," said he, "why are you here, I sought you not? If you are for dallying, go back—back to your——" He clenched his teeth on the word and turned away. "If mam, if you are—for home to-night I'll see you so far. Pray let us go." And he strode impatiently forward, but presently, seeing her stand where he had left her, pale and forlorn, frowned and stood hesitating.
Here my lady, feeling the situation called for tears, sank down upon the grassy bank beside the way and forthwith wept distractingly; though had any been there to notice, it might have been remarked that her eyes did not swell and her delicate nose did not turn red—yet she wept with whole-hearted perseverance.
The Major grew restless, he looked up the lane and he looked down the lane, he turned scowling eyes aloft to radiant moon and down to shadowy earth; finally he took one long pace back towards her.
"Madam!" said he.
My lady sobbed and bowed her lovely head. The Major approached another step.
"My lady!" he remonstrated.
My lady gasped and crouched lower. The Major approached nearer yet.
"Mam!"
My lady choked and sank full length upon the mossy turf. The Major stooped above her.
"Betty!" said he anxiously. "You—you're never swooning?"
"O John!" she said in strangled voice.
"Great heavens!" he exclaimed. "Art ill—sick——?"
"At—at heart, John!" she murmured, stealing a look at his anxious face. The Major stood suddenly erect, frowning a little.
"Madam!" said he. A deep sigh. "My lady—mam——"
"Do not—call me so!"
"You'll take a rheum—a cold, lying there—'tis a heavy dew!"
"Why then I will—let me, John."
"Pray get up, mam—my lady."
"Never, John!"
"Why then——" said he and paused to look up the lane once more.
"What, John?"
"You force me to——" He paused and glanced down the lane.
"To—what, John!"
"To carry you!"
"Never, John! For shame! Besides you couldn't. I'm a vast weight and——"
The Major picked her up, then and there, and began to carry her down the lane. And after they had gone some distance she sighed and with a little wriggle disposed herself more comfortably; and after they had gone further still he found two smooth, round arms about his neck and thereafter a soft breath at his ear.
"Pray don't be angry with your Betty, John dear." The Major stopped and stared down at her in the brilliant moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her rosy lips just apart, curving to a smile; he drew a sudden deep breath, and stooping his head, kissed her. For a long moment he held her thus, lip to lip, then all at once he set her down on her feet.
"Gad!" he cried, "what kind of woman are you to lure and mad me with your kisses——"
"Your woman, John."
"And yet—for aught I know——" the Major clenched his fists and pressed them on his eyes as if to shut out some hateful vision—"ah God, for aught I can be sure——"
"What, John?"
"He—he hath kissed you too, this night——"
"But he hath not, John—nor ever shall."
"Yet I saw you in his arms——" My lady sighed and bowed her head.
"The beast is always and ever the beast!" she said.
"How came you with him in a wood—after midnight?"
"For sufficient reasons, John."
"There never was reason sufficient—nay, not even your brother——"
"Nay dear John, I think different——"
"To peril that sweet body——" The Major choked.
"Nay, I'm very strong—and—and I have this!"
The Major scowled at the small, silver-mounted weapon and turned away.
"There is your maiden reputation——"
"That is indeed mine own, and in good keeping. Grieve not your woeful head on that score."
"Ah Betty, why will you run such hazard——"
"Because 'tis so my will, sir." The Major bowed.
"'Tis long past midnight, madam."
"Aye, 'tis a sweet hour—so still and solitary."
"Shall we proceed, madam?"
"At your pleasure, sir." So they went on side by side silently awhile, the Major a little grim and very stately.
"I do think John thou'rt very mannish at times."
"Mannish, madam?"
"Blind, overbearing and apt to be a little muddled."
The Major bowed. "For instance, John, methinks you do muddle a woman of will with a wilful woman." The Major bowed. "Now if, John, if in cause so just I should risk—not my body but my name—my fame, who shall stay me seeing I'm unwed and slave to no man yet—God be thanked." The Major bowed lower than ever and went beside her with his grandest air. "'Deed John," she sighed, "if you do grow any more dignified I fear you'll expire and perish o' pride and high-breeding."
The distant clock struck two as, turning down a certain bye-lane, the Major paused at a rustic door that gave into my lady's herb-garden. But when he would have opened it she stayed him.
"'Tis so late, John——"
"Indeed 'tis very late, madam!"
"Too late to sleep this night. And such a night, John—the moon, O the moon!"
"What o' the moon, madam?"
"John d'Arcy I do protest if you bow or say 'madam' again I—I'll bite you! And the moon is—is—the moon and looks vastly romantic and infinite appealing. So will I walk and gaze upon her pale loveliness and sigh and sigh and—sigh again, sir."
"But indeed you cannot walk abroad—at this hour——"
"Having the wherewithal I can sir, and I will, sir."
"But 'tis after two——"
"Then sir, in but a little while it will be three, heigho, so wags the world—your arm pray, your arm."
"But my lady pray consider—your health—your——"
"Fie sir and fiddlededee!"
"But the—the dew, 'tis very——"
"Excellent for the complexion!" and she trilled the line of a song:
'O 'tis dabbling in the dew that makes the milkmaids fair.'