"'Twas then great Marlbro's mighty soul was proved,That in the shock of charging hosts, unmovedAmidst confusion, horror, and despair,Examined all the dreadful scenes of war,In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.So, when an angel by divine commandWith rising tempest shakes a guilty land--Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed--Calm and serene he drives the furious blast,And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm."
"Excellent! excellent!" cried Lord Claud, when the poet at last flung himself into his chair, exhausted by his own flow of eloquence. "That will take them! That will hit them! My good friend, your fortune is made.
"Capital, was it not, Tom? Why, it has raised a sparkle in your calm bucolic eyes!
"'Tis a fine poem i' sooth, Master Addison; as fine a piece of work as any man of this day ever produced. You might have seen it all yourself. You have had information, one can see, from high quarters. Now tell me, I pray, something in detail of this great battle;" and forthwith poet and gallant fell to discussing the campaign in such a fashion as filled Tom with wonder at his companion, such as he was always feeling.
Lord Claud seemed to have such a masterly knowledge of military detail, that it was hard to believe he had not at some time been a soldier himself; and his knowledge of public affairs, and of the intricacies of foreign and home politics, struck the country-bred youth as something little short of marvellous.
For hard upon two hours did the two men sit talking, with papers and diagrams before them; and when at last Lord Claud rose, Addison gripped him hard by the hand, and declared he was the best company he had seen for many a long day.
"We are too late for the play, Tom, my lad," said Lord Claud, as they reached the street. "But, for my part, I have been better entertained; and if I have wearied you, I crave pardon."
"I am no whit wearied," answered Tom promptly; "but I marvel much at your knowledge of men and things."
Lord Claud laughed slightly and lightly.
"Keep open eyes and ears as you go along in life, Tom, and you will learn many things in your turn. And now, methinks, we will take horse to Earns, and lie there tonight. It will be better for us than the long ride in the cold of the early morning."
"You can ride, Tom?" Lord Claud had said, as they sauntered homewards from the poet's lodgings.
Tom replied that whatever else he was lacking in, he might certainly lay claim to horsemanship; and the pair walked on together, Lord Claud sunk in thoughtful silence, his companion always ready to give his attention to the sights of the streets, which had lost none of the attraction of novelty as yet.
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed a voice behind them; "Master Tom the greengoose has found fine company!"
"A fine comrade, truly, will he find he has got! What becomes of all the strapping young fellows whom my Lord Claud takes pains to notice and befriend?"
"They are like the butterflies--flutter for a season and are no more seen after!"
"Or like the buzzing fly who is lured within the spider's web! 'Tis easy fluttering in, but there is no getting out!"
"Ay, ay, the gallows noose must feel mightily like the strand of the spider's web to the silly fly. And as the spider pounces upon his victim ere it be dead, and sucks away its life blood, so does the hangman cut down his victim alive and cut out his living heart! Oh, 'tis a fine sight! a fine sight! Young Tom must e'en go and see the next execution at Tyburn!"
These words were spoken with caution, and yet every one of them fell full upon Tom's ears. These ears, be it noted, were very keen ones, as is often the case with those who have tracked game and hunted the fallow deer in the free forest. Moreover, Tom had not yet grown callous to the sounds of talk and laughter in the streets. He must needs listen to all he heard, and these phrases were plainly meant to meet his ear.
He glanced at Lord Claud to see if he had heard, but there was no change in the thoughtful face. His companion appeared lost in his own reflections, and Tom, dropping a pace behind, looked back to see who had spoken.
As he had surmised, it was the four bully beaux whom he had met at the Folly the previous day. So much had happened in the interim, that Tom could have believed it a week ago. At his look they all burst into jeering laughter, but it did not appear as though they desired speech of him, or any sort of encounter, for they plunged hastily down a side street, and Tom saw that Lord Claud had just turned his head to see what hindered his companion.
"Pay no heed to drunken roisterers i' the streets, Tom," advised his mentor; "a quarrel is quicker provoked than mended, except at the sword's point, and unseemly is brawling at street corners. Yon fellows bear you some ill will for my threat yesterday. They will do you a bad turn if the chance offers. They are an evil crew, and my Lord Mayor has been warned against them ere now; but it is difficult in these days to give every man his deserts. London would be depopulated if all who merited it were transported to the plantations of Virginia."
A little later they met Harry Gay sauntering from one playhouse to another. He looked with a sort of amused surprise at Tom, who paused to send a message to Master Cale, to tell him that he would not be at home that night, and was not to be troubled after in any wise.
"Do you lodge with Lord Claud?" asked Harry, with a curious glance towards the elegant figure sauntering on, and exchanging bows with the fine ladies in the coaches.
"I know not; but I ride forth with him ere long on some errand I wot not of. Have no fears for me, good Harry, I can take care of myself well enow."
"You have good confidence, my young friend. I trust it is not the pride which goes before a fall. It savours of peril to steer one's bark over unknown waters, or to follow a road which leads no man knows whither;" and Harry nodded his head in the direction of Lord Claud, with a gesture that was as eloquent as any words could be.
"Tush!" answered Tom, with something of the careless indifference he had caught from Lord Claud and his associates; "I have come to see the world, and see it I will. If there be peril, why, so much the better. I am sick to death of sitting at ease in the safe shelter of home. A man can die but once, and he had better live first."
"Just so, just so," answered Harry with some emphasis; "that is exactly the sentiment I would most impress upon your inexperience. A man should live to drink the cup of life, ere it be snatched from his grasp."
Tom nodded and passed on, not pausing to ponder upon the meaning of the words he had heard. Indeed, he had small time to ponder, for his comrade was quickening his steps, and he had to hasten to reach his side.
"My stables lie this way. We will go and look at the hackneys, and make choice of one fit to carry those great limbs of yours, my worthy friend. As for me, a light-made barb will suffice; but it takes bone and muscle to carry all that bone," and he clapped his hand upon Tom's shoulder with a little laugh.
The stables were neither very bright nor savoury according to modern ideas, but for the times they were thought a marvel of perfection. Tom's eyes soon got used to the dimness, and he was quickly in a high state of rapture at the evidences of breeding and pace in the horses stabled there.
That they knew their master well was plain, for all heads were turned at the sound of his voice, and each animal gave a low whinny of pleasure at the approach of Lord Claud. He took carrots from a basket and dispensed them with impartiality to his stud; and, meantime, he and his head groom talked together in low tones, and presently Tom was called to the conclave.
"Nell Gwynne will carry you best, Tom. But she may give you a little trouble. It is not every rider she will brook upon her back; yet if you can master her, she will bear you to the world's end faithfully."
Tom approached the mare indicated, who looked at him, laying back her ears and showing the whites of her eyes, sidling a little over in her stall with the evident intention of trying to get a kick at the stranger. But Tom coolly walked up to her head, and began caressing her with a perfect fearlessness which presently disarmed her suspicion. She was accustomed to see men flinch and quail before her, and despised the race accordingly. But the few who bad no fear of her she recognized as her masters, and she gave them the love of her heart and the best of her powers.
"That will do, Tom," said Lord Claud's voice from behind; "you have won my lady's capricious fancy.
"Bring up the mare and Lucifer in an hour's time, saddled and bridled, and fed for the evening," he added, speaking to the servant; "you will probably have them back some time tomorrow, but of that I cannot speak with certainty."
He took Tom's arm as he left the yard, saying in his nonchalant fashion:
"Sometimes after one of these affairs of honour it is well to take oneself off for a while. Her Majesty is as much against the settlement of private quarrels by the appeal to the sword as ever King William was. However, fashion is too strong even for good Queen Anne. But it is better not to do more than wing your man. If you kill him, you run a risk of getting into trouble. But I have no intention of doing so, unless he provokes me beyond endurance."
"Is he a man of note?" asked Tom, with pardonable curiosity.
"In his way he is; you probably would not know the name; but he has friends in high places: He and I have never loved each other. He has balked me more than once, and I have had my revenge at the gaming table and in other places, which he is not likely to forgive or forget. The other day he sought to provoke me by almost open insult. It was not a woman, Tom. I have enough on my hands without embroiling myself in affairs of gallantry. There are women, doubtless, who are worth the championship of honest men; but in our world of London town they are few and far between. Let them and their quarrels alone, Tom, if you would keep out of trouble."
Lord Claud was speaking now with a sarcastic intonation rather unusual with him. He was more thoughtful and grave than Tom had ever seen him, but the youth did not dare to ask the cause. Indeed, it seemed to him that a man who had a duel to fight upon the morrow with a dangerous adversary had reason enough for gravity and thought.
"Tom," said Lord Claud suddenly, breaking a rather long silence, "I feel sometimes that I have had enough for once of the trammels of town life. I am weary of the slavery of levee, and gaming table, and playhouse. There are better things in life than foppery and idle dissipation. What do you think of it all, my honest Tom?"
"I find it vastly entertaining," answered Tom truthfully; "but I feel me something out of place amongst all the fine fops I meet everywhere."
"You would like to travel and see the world? There is another world besides that of London town."
"I would see more of London town ere I leave it," answered Tom frankly; "but I would fain see other things and places, too."
"Wilt come farther afield with me, if I go?" asked Lord Claud, with a quick sidelong glance at the tall figure of his companion. "A man of thews and sinews, who knows not fear, is the comrade in whom my heart delights; but there be so few of them amid yon crowd of painted popinjays."
The compliment tickled Tom's vanity, just as the preference shown him from the first by so great a man as Lord Claud touched his naturally quick affections.
"Let me but see this wonderful city first, my lord, and I will follow you to the world's end!" he cried impulsively.
"You shall have your wish, trusty Tom," answered Lord Claud, his face clearing and his brilliant smile shining forth. "In sooth, I have no desire to quit it just yet. I would fain be one of those to welcome back the great Duke, who will be here ere the year closes; and you should not miss seeing the pageant which will greet the victor of Blenheim. It may even be that the Duke himself will find employment for his poor servants.
"Hast ever heard of the secret service, Tom? No? Well, there be openings enow for men of courage and resource. It may be that you and I may find work for us to do. When all Europe is at war, country with country, and kingdom with kingdom, there is work and to spare for trusty messengers, stout of heart and strong of arm. Who knows but that such luck as that may come in our way?"
Tom listened agape, feeling as though his horizon were growing wider every hour. He had been scarce more than a week in town, and, behold, all life seemed changed about him. Already he had been plunged into an adventure which would probably end in the spilling of blood; and now the prospect was opening out before him of travel and adventure of a kind of which he had never dreamed. It seemed impossible that he could be the same raw rustic youth who, a few short months ago, was accounted the greatest roisterer of his own county. His doings in the past seemed just the outcome of boyish spirits. He had been nothing but a great boy in those days; now he felt that his manhood was coming upon him by leaps and bounds.
At Lord Claud's lodging a repast was awaiting them which was in itself a further revelation to Tom. He was mightily hungry, too, and fell upon the good cheer with an appetite that entertained his host. The food he found most excellent, though seasoned something too strongly for his palate. But the wines were less to his taste, and he presently made bold to ask for a tankard of homely ale, which was brought to him from the servants' quarters; Lord Claud leaning back with his glass in his hand, and smiling to see the relish with which Tom enjoyed the simple beverage.
"Ah, the time was when I could quaff a tankard of ale with any man, and it may well be that I will do the same again in the future. But now, Tom, we must come and don riding gear, for the horses will be round ere long. Oh, have no concern as to that. My man will have ready all that you will need. But those silken hose and that broidered vest are little suited to the saddle."
And, in very sooth, Tom found himself quickly fitted with a pair of stout leathern breeches, a cloth waistcoat, and a pair of riding boots adorned with silver spurs. A riding switch was put in his hand, and he stood flicking his boots at the top of the staircase till Lord Claud joined him, dressed in a quiet and most irreproachable riding suit, which became the elegance of his figure almost better than the frippery of the first toilet.
The horses stood at the door. Tom walked up to the great mare and renewed acquaintance with her before swinging himself lightly to the saddle. She made an instinctive dart with her head, as though to seek to bite his foot; but he patted her neck, touched her lightly with the spur, and sat like a Centaur as she made a quick curvet that had unseated riders before now.
The next minute the pair had started forth in the murky twilight of the autumn evening; but the moon was rising and the mists were dispersing. Before they had left the houses behind they could see the road clear before them, and were able to give their impatient steeds their heads, and travel at a steady hand gallop.
Tom had approached London from the north, so that all this country was new to him. He delighted in the feel of a horse betwixt his knees again; and the vagaries of the high-bred mare, who shied and danced at every flickering shadow, kept his pulses tingling and his heart aglow during the whole of that moonlight ride.
Lord Claud said little. He too had need of some horsemanship, for the black barb he rode was full of fire and spirit. Both riders kept a sharp lookout as they rode along, for there was never any security from footpads and highway robbers once they were clear of the houses. However, there was no indication that any such light-heeled gentry were abroad that night, and the travellers reached the little hostelry whither they were bound without any adventure.
Here they were evidently expected. The host came out with an air of great respect, and took their horses. Within, a plentiful supper was prepared for them, to which Tom was ready to do justice after his ride, though Lord Claud ate little and drank less. Upstairs a commodious chamber with two beds had been prepared. A fire of logs burnt cheerily on the hearth; and it was plain that some valet had been there earlier in the day, for night clothes and toilet accessories lay about in profusion, to say nothing of a pair of shining rapiers carefully laid upon the mantel shelf.
Lord Claud took these down and examined them with care. Then he handed one to Tom.
"Just a few passes, trusty Tom, as is my habit ere sleeping the night before a duel. I like to make test of the weapon with which I shall meet my antagonist in the morning."
Tom was delighted to show off his newly-learned skill, and was complimented by Lord Claud on his progress.
"My adversary's second may desire to cross swords with you, Tom," remarked Lord Claud as he began to undress. "'Tis a foolish habit; but you must not seem to shrink. Show him that you care nothing for his sword, and I will then interpose to stop the second fight. It may not be offered; but, again, it may."
And, as the pair prepared for bed, the elder man instructed his companion in all the details of duelling, that he might be prepared to play his part on the morrow with confidence andaplomb.
"I have a few excellent rules of my own, Tom, and I have never been worsted once, and only once wounded. I neither drink, nor dice, nor dance, nor weary myself the previous day. I go overnight to the place of meeting, and I retire to bed early and sleep sound. I take a modest breakfast, without wine or spirit, an hour before the meeting; and I come to the ground with a head as cool and a hand as steady as though no such thing as danger or death existed in the world. Some men pride themselves on sitting up and dicing and drinking away the night, to show their own courage and their contempt for their adversary. I prefer to show mine by leaving him prostrate on the field!"
It certainly seemed as though Lord Claud's methods were good, for he slept like a child all night, better than Tom did, who had been greatly excited by the events of the day and the prospect of the morrow; and when he was dressed upon the following morning, still in his sober riding suit that became him so well, Tom thought he had never seen anybody looking so thoroughly master of himself and his circumstances. The very glance of the eye seemed to bespeak victory, as did the quiet resolution of the grave mouth.
Breakfast over--an early meal taken by the light of candles, yet excellent of its kind--and the pair went forth together, Tom carrying the two rapiers, as it was his duty to do.
The sun was just about to rise, and the mists lying over the river and fields were growing silver in the light, as they came in sight of the group of elms which had seen so many foolish and bloody contests between angry men, some of whom scarce knew why they fought at all, save that it was the fashion.
From the opposite direction three other figures were approaching--two tall men and one little one.
"They bring a surgeon," quoth Lord Claud, with a smile on his face; "perchance they are wise. For myself, I never trouble to do so. I count a leech a needless encumbrance."
Tom looked curiously at the two foremost men as they drew near. One of them struck him in particular. He was very tall and very strongly made, though clumsy in figure and swarthy in face. He had the look almost of a foreigner, Tom thought, with black eyes that twinkled with an evil and sinister expression, and never showed more than as a slit between half-shut lids. He was marked with smallpox, and had taken no pains, today at any rate, to disguise the ravages of that malady. He walked a little in advance of his companions, and when he got near to Lord Claud he stopped and made a sweeping bow, his eyes the while scanning Tom's face and figure most closely.
"This is not the gentleman who waited on me," he said in a rasping voice.
"No; that gentleman is laid up in his bed, and cannot keep his appointment; but this one will do the business equally well.
"Mr. Tufton of Gablehurst; let me present him to you, Sir James."
The swarthy man looked Tom over from head to foot with an insolent stare.
"A fine young cub," he said at length, "and well grown for his years. One of the gang, I suppose?" and there was an ugly sneer upon his thick lips.
Tom looked at Lord Claud, wondering what the meaning of those words could be; but the quiet face looked as if carved in marble, save only that the eyes glowed like fire in their sockets.
He signed to Tom to produce the rapiers; and the second man came forward and examined and tested them, selecting that which his principal should use. Then the ground was stepped, the most level place selected, and the two combatants stripped off coat and waistcoat, and prepared for the fray.
Tom drew his breath hard as he watched the commencement of the fight, and his face was full of anxiety, as he felt that the man addressed as Sir James had weight and length of reach beyond anything that Lord Claud could command. But for a while both the men fought warily and without attempting to get to close quarters, and Tom began to lose his first breathless excitement, and to watch the play of shining blades with more coolness and observation.
Two rounds had been fought, and neither man was wounded. But whilst Lord Claud looked just as cool and steady as at the start, the dark adversary was flushed and inclined to pant, and the beads of sweat stood upon his forehead notwithstanding the briskness of the morning air.
Then Tom began to understand where Lord Claud's advantage lay. If he could tire out his adversary by keeping on the defensive, then at the last he might get his chance, and lunge at him when he would scarce be able to parry the thrust.
It was easy to see that his weak point was slowness of recovery. His thrusts were quick and well planted, he had an excellent guard and mastery of the weapon; but he was slow in recovering after making a lunge, and the longer the fight continued the more evident did this defect become. And it was plain that he was aware of it, for though he pressed upon his antagonist with great determination and with much dexterity of sword play, he was afraid to take advantage of his longer reach and lunge at him boldly; for he knew that if Lord Claud avoided the thrust, he would almost certainly have at him with a counter lunge before he had time to parry.
And, in fact, that was what did at the last happen, after the fight had lasted so long that Tom thought half an hour must surely have gone by. Both antagonists showed signs of weariness. It had even been suggested that enough had been done to satisfy the claims of honour; but to that suggestion neither principal would listen.
Sir James was much distressed. Sweat poured from his brow, his breath came in deep gasps, his face was growing purple. Lord Claud looked white, but otherwise had not changed in aspect, and the deadly battle light in his eyes was growing brighter and keener.
His heavy antagonist now saw that nothing could serve his purpose but an exercise of sheer weight and brute force, and he pressed on and on with such fury that Tom almost cried aloud in his fear. But Lord Claud was wary and watchful; he gave way for a while, only parrying the thrusts, and that with not so much force as before; then suddenly Sir James made a furious lunge, and calling out in a strangled voice, "Have at you now!" he all but buried his rapier in his adversary's body.
All but--yet not quite; for just at the moment when it seemed impossible to parry the furious stroke, Lord Claud made a curious upward twist of the wrist, caught his adversary's blade and turned it so that it glanced aside and passed him, whilst he sprang towards him at the same instant, and saying quite coolly, "Sir, methinks your physician would recommend blood letting in your heated condition," he thrust straight and true at his burly adversary, running the shining blade into his shoulder in such a fashion that the tip of the rapier reappeared red with blood behind him, and he fell forwards with a smothered bellow like that of a bull who is ringed, so that Lord Claud had need of all his quickness to withdraw his rapier in time.
Second and surgeon sprang to the side of the wounded man; but Lord Claud said quite quietly:
"'Tis no mortal wound. He has not got his deserts this time. Are you satisfied, gentlemen, or do you want more with us?"
The second looked up at Tom's stalwart figure, hesitated a moment, and then professed that he desired to carry matters no further.
Lord Claud handed the rapiers to Tom, coolly resumed his discarded garments, took off his hat with a courtly bow, and walked off with his customary air of easy grace.
"Come, Tom," he said, "we have managed that well. The brute will not die, but will only keep his bed a while, and doubtless rise to trouble us again in days to come. They say he has never felt a wound before, and boasts himself invulnerable. He will little relish the lesson he has had today. But he will never forget or forgive; so have a caution when he is your neighbour in any company. He will rail at his second for not pinking you; but 'twas his own words that daunted the man. He thought he saw in you a veritable son of the forest, terrible in wrath, invincible in skill--" and Lord Claud suddenly threw back his head and began to laugh unrestrainedly.
"I did not understand him," quoth Tom.
"Marry, no--and no need you should! You had better not understand too much of the things you see and hear in the world, honest Tom. And now let us to a more hearty breakfast, and back again to town. I must show myself today with a lordly grace, and prove to all the world that I need shrink from no man's gaze. As for yon black bull, be sure he will breathe no word of this thing. It would ill mate with his pride for the world to know that he had been spitted like a capon by one whom he has dared to gibe at as the white hind of the forest!"
Lord Claud's mood had completely changed. He was gay and merry, and eager after pleasure. He took Tom hither and thither to half a dozen fine houses, where the ladies gazed with a certain awestruck admiration at this "untamed son of the woods," as it pleased Lord Claud to call him, whilst they loaded with favours the brilliant young spark, who seemed, when in the mood, to have power to win all hearts.
He was a "dear tormenting devil," or a "mad fellow, but withal a true Prince Charming;" and just as he talked sound sense and politics with the poet yesterday, so now he beat even the finest of the ladies and their beaux at high-flown nonsense about goddesses and heroes, and the Arcadian bowers where they made a pretence of living and moving.
At the play, to which they went later, he moved from box to box, from tier to tier, taking snuff with the men, saying charming nothings to the ladies; the centre always of a laughing throng, whose proximity must surely have been distressful to any persons so unfashionable as to desire to listen to what the actors were saying. He even went behind and upon the stage, as spectators were still permitted to do, although there was less of this confusion than a few years before; and he was eagerly welcomed wherever he appeared.
From the play they repaired to more gay houses, where Tom speedily lost his ten guineas at basset, but was too excited to care, and paid over his stakes with a lordly indifference that did credit to his powers of observation and imitation.
It was long past midnight ere they bent their steps homewards, and then, as it was far too late to seek the shelter of Master Cale's abode, Tom betook himself once more to Lord Claud's lodgings, and was speedily sound asleep in the most soft and sumptuous bed it had ever been his lot to lie upon.
It was Sunday morning, and Tom was making his way, towards the hour of noon, to the house of the perruquier, which he had quitted some four days past, with no intention of so long an absence.
The streets were unwontedly quiet, and the cries of the apprentices at the doors of the shops were pleasantly missed. The shops were most of them shuttered up, and the apprentices, clad in their best, were all away to some sport of their own selection in byways and alleys, or lingering about the parks with a knot of footmen and lackeys, watching the fine folk walk in and out. For the common sort were not admitted as yet within the precincts of the parks, and even the gentlefolks had to leave their servants behind; so that it may well be guessed there was plenty of gossiping and hustling to be had at the gates, if any had a taste for it.
Tom was a far finer figure coming home than he had been in going out. He wore a coat of azure velvet, and his vest was a perfect cataract of fine point de Venise. His shoes were of white leather with red heels, and his stockings of the finest white silk. He had felt ashamed of his plain claret cloth, which had seemed so fine at first, when taken to the houses of the fine hooped and powdered ladies; and Lord Claud had had him fitted with this suit at his own costumiers, bidding Tom regard it as a small token of friendship and gratitude.
Tom had delighted in his fine appearance as he was taken the round of the fashionable houses; but now, as he neared his former lodgings, he found himself wishing he had put on the more sober suit. He felt that Master Cale's eyes would rest upon him with a grave disapproval, and he had not yet grown indifferent to the opinion of the man who had so befriended him.
The perruquier's shop was close shut up, the sign swinging idly overhead. But the door in the rear stood ajar, and Tom softly pushed it open and entered.
He paused on the threshold, surprised by an unfamiliar sound--the sound of a fresh young voice singing a gay little snatch of song in some upper chamber. He mounted the stairs softly, the sound of the voice growing clearer, and at last he knew that the singer must be in the upper parlour, where, when the day's work was all finished, the perruquier and any lodger he might chance to have spent the evening hours if they did not go abroad.
This parlour was free to Tom, who, however, had not so far troubled it much with his presence; but now he pushed open the door with pardonable curiosity, and beheld at once the singer of the quaint little refrain.
A slim young maiden was standing at the window, looking down into the street below. She wore the simple dress of the citizen class, a rather full skirt of cloth--of a finer texture perhaps than some, and of a dark crimson colour which well became her--and the laced bodice and full sleeves of the day. Round her throat she had a fine white muslin kerchief edged with lace, and her apron was of the same. She had plainly been wearing a hood of cloth like her dress, but this was now lying on the table; and her pretty dark brown hair, rather ruffled, was bound by nothing save a snood of crimson riband. Her profile was turned to Tom, and he saw a sweet, little, merry face, with a nose a trifle tip-tilted, and a cheek the colour of a damask rose.
It seemed as though the opening of the door had been heard, for the maid exclaimed in a merry voice:
"O father dear, I do love your picture of Absalom and David! I think the king's great periwig is most beautifully depicted. But I would like a companion picture on the other side--the mule running away with Absalom, and the periwig left hanging on the tree!"
Then turning full round a laughing rosy face and a pair of roguish hazel eyes, the maid suddenly found herself face to face with this very fine young gentleman, and in a moment the smile died away, although there was no displeasure in the glance of curiosity and admiration which she bestowed upon him.
Tom made his best bow, and the maiden dropped him a pretty courtesy, saying with frank fearlessness:
"You are surely my father's lodger, of whom he spoke to me. I crave your pardon for not sooner seeing you. But I knew not that you were in the house, and thought it must needs be my father at the door."
Tom advanced and stood beside her in the window. The pair regarded each other with a frank and friendly curiosity.
"Are you Master Cale's daughter, pretty maiden?" asked Tom.
She nodded her head archly, whilst Tom hastened to ask:
"But how comes it then that I have never seen you before? I thought he lived alone, with only his housekeeper, shopman, and apprentice in the house."
"And so he does," answered the maid. "He will not have me to dwell here. As soon as my mother died, when I was but eight years old, he sent me away to my aunt in Highgate, with whom I have remained ever since. Fain would I come back and keep house for him, but he will none of it. He says that his house is no place for me, and he will never let me visit him even of a week day. But upon most Sundays he either comes forth to fetch me, or my aunt brings me hither to him. Last Sunday the rain poured down so lustily that we were e'en forced to bide at home; but whenever it is possible we spend the day together, and I love to come into the town and walk abroad with him there, and see such sights as may be seen upon the Sabbath day."
"And is your aunt with you today?" asked Tom.
"She brought me hither after we had attended service at St. Paul's, which I love to do. But now she has gone to visit some gossip of her own. Father and I will have the afternoon together and alone, and this we love best of all. He always gives holiday to apprentice and shopman, so that we can have the house to ourselves, and enjoy ourselves after our own fashion."
"I trust I shall not mar your happiness if I ask to share your noontide meal," said Tom humbly.
"Oh no, sir, we shall be proud of your company," answered the girl; "if you are not too fine a gentleman to sit at board with humble citizens.
"Ah, there is my father's step! Doubtless he comes to say that dinner is ready. He will not let me soil my fingers with cooking when I come; but I can cook right well for all that--" and there she stopped short, for Cale was already entering, and he gave quite a start as his glance fell upon the resplendent figure standing beside his daughter, though his face cleared and put on a slightly quizzical look as he recognized who the young spark was.
"Ho! ho! my young friend, so I see you back at last! It is plain that you have been with mighty fine company since you left my humble roof. I almost marvel that Curley Cale's lodging is accounted fine enough to hold your worshipful self longer!"
Tom suddenly felt a qualm of shame and disgust at his finery. It was all very well for men like Lord Claud, but he felt that it made him ridiculous to be tricked out like a peacock, in lieu of wearing the more sober and becoming raiment chosen for him with such care by Master Cale himself. His cheek glowed as he made reply:
"It is but a suit that was given me to appear at the house of some fine lady last evening. I would gladly be rid of it now, and, with your leave, will don more sober raiment. I love not to be pranked out like this; but what would you, when all the world does the like?"
Cale smiled his shrewd little smile, the maiden's eyes expressed open admiration for the costly frippery, but Tom hastened away and chose for himself one of the seemly but well-cut and fashionable suits that had been left for him since he quitted the house a few days before; and when he descended to join the party of two at the board, as he had been invited, he felt much more like himself, and looked much more suited to his surroundings, than he had done when he first appeared there.
Father and daughter received him kindly, and Rosamund's eyes were full of eagerness as she turned them upon him. He had learned by this time that her name was Rosamund, though her father generally called her Rosy.
"I pray you, fair sir," she said, with a pretty imperiousness of manner, "tell us some of the things that you have seen and heard these last days. My father says you have been keeping fine company, and I would learn what that is like; for I am but a humble citizen's daughter, and I live my life away in the country, so all I know of the gay doings in the town I must needs hear from my father, who tells me as little as ever he can!"
And she looked towards him with a charming pout upon her lips, though her eyes were full of love beneath their merry sparkle.
"I am but a country-bred youth myself, Mistress Rosamund," answered Tom, who had laid aside all his fine gentleman airs, and felt a deal more comfortable in consequence, "and this town and its gay doings are as strange to me as they can be to you. I am all agape at what I see and hear; but a man must needs keep his astonishment to himself, else he becomes the butt and the gibe of all the company."
And forthwith, by no means reluctantly, Master Tom began to give account of his doings of the past days, only keeping quite silent on the subject of the duel, for he had learned that that was a matter which Lord Claud wished to remain secret.
Rosamund listened as Desdemona might have done to Othello, and Cale himself was considerably interested, though he shook his head when he heard that already Tom had lost all the money he had about him, and was even in debt to Lord Claud for losses he had been unable to meet at the moment, and which his patron had settled for him.
"Keep away from the gaming tables, Tom; keep away from the gaming tables," he said. "Did I not warn you that you would be fleeced and rooked if you tried that sort of thing on?"
Tom laughed a little, and said he knew beforehand he should lose, as though that were an excuse. But Cale only shook his head; and Rosamund asked eagerly:
"But who is this great Lord Claud, fair sir? He seems a wonderful person, and fain would I see him with mine own eyes. He seems a kind and generous man, and wondrous clever and beautiful. Pray tell me who he is?"
Tom looked across at Cale, and made answer:
"I' sooth, Mistress Rosamund, I know not. Perchance your father may be better instructed."
Cale shook his head. His face was very grave.
"That is a question which I doubt if any man in London town can answer. Every man knows Lord Claud by name and fame, but none can tell who he is, nor whence come his wealth and power. Mark me, Tom, it behoves you to have a care how you fall beneath the spell of his beauty and his kindliness. He has made friends before this of handsome, powerful lads, not long from the country, and amongst these many have disappeared and never been heard of more, whilst others have fallen into crime, and have languished in Newgate, or paid the forfeit of their lives upon the gallows."
Rosamund shrank and grew pale; whilst Tom looked the perruquier full in the face, and said:
"Truly I can believe that many men who plunge into dissipation and vice may come in time to a bad end. But why charge that upon Lord Claud? He can only be held responsible for his own life, and he lives and thrives in favour with all."
"Like a green bay tree," answered the perruquier thoughtfully. "I have often seen the wicked in great prosperity; but their downfall comes at last."
"Do you call Lord Claud wicked?" asked Tom rather hotly.
"No," was the quiet reply; "I judge no man; but I do say that worldly prosperity is no test of true merit. The wicked may be fat and flourishing for long; but the Lord will avenge at the last."
"But, father," cried pretty Rosamund eagerly, "for what crimes were the poor young men hanged of whom you spoke just now?"
"Most of them suffered for the crime of robbery on the king's highway."
Tom again flushed rather deeply. He had heard hints and innuendoes before this, and his wits were beginning now to piece things together. He was angry, yet he scarce knew why.
"Do you mean to say, Master Cale," he asked, "that men accuse Lord Claud of being the accomplice of highwaymen and footpads?"
And then he himself remembered the words of the message with which Captain Jack had entrusted him, and a strange thrill seemed to run down his spine.
"Men say nought of him openly," answered Cale, "but they whisper among themselves. For my part, I know nothing of Lord Claud and his doings. But I know that there have been marvellous clever and daring deeds done upon the road; that the king's money chests have been rifled again and again of gold, transmitted by the Treasury for the pay of the soldiers in foreign lands, and that none of the gold has ever been recovered. Now and again an obscure person has been captured, and has suffered death for complicity in such a crime; and it has been told me that several of such have been stalwart and stanch youths, who had at one time been seen frequenting Lord Claud's lodgings, much noticed and petted by him. What truth there be in such talk I know not. Nor have I any desire to know. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing; and the voice of rumour is but little to be trusted."
"Very little, I should think," answered Tom quickly; for he had already conceived a great attachment towards Lord Claud, and it irked him to think that men should speak of him as one who was a false friend, and the accomplice in crimes for which others suffered whilst he reaped the spoil.
A man, especially in his hot-headed youth, seldom believes what he has no mind to; and Tom certainly had no disposition to believe any harm of Lord Claud.
So the talk drifted to other channels, and when presently Rosamund declared with pretty insistence that she must not be cheated of her walk abroad in the streets. Tom asked if he might make one of the party without intruding; and the bright eyes of the girl gave eloquent answer.
So they sallied forth together, and Master Cale played cicerone, and showed Tom many strange and wonderful things, telling him absorbing stories the while. He showed him the limits of the ravages of the Great Fire, which he could remember well, as he was ten years old at the time. He took them into many of the churches afterwards built by Wren, and Tom stood lost in amaze at the magnificent proportions of the great St. Paul's, the inside of which he had not seen till today. He was shown also the site of one of the Great Plague pits; and Rosamund clung trembling, yet fascinated, to her father's arm whilst he spoke of the things that had happened in those gruesome days.
He himself had been sent away into the country during the terrible visitation; but his father had remained and had survived, and from him he had learned all manner of strange tales, which Rosamund loved to hear him tell, though they always blanched her cheek, and brought a look of terror into her pretty eyes.
Tom thought this was a pleasanter way of spending the afternoon than listening to the braggings of the coffee house bullies, or watching the mummery of the play, when scarce a word could be heard from the actors, owing to the laughter and talk that buzzed all round the house. The clamour from the footmen's gallery alone almost sufficed to drown the sound from the stage; and, indeed, a short time later on, the disgraceful behaviour of the servants who attended their masters and mistresses to the play became so intolerable that the free gallery was closed to them, causing regular riots every night, till military aid had to be summoned.
But Rosamund thought it must be delightful to see a play, and wanted to hear all he could tell her about it; and so well pleased were the pair with their conversation, that Master Cale, bethinking him of an old friend hard by, with whom he liked to exchange a friendly word from time to time, bid them walk up and down the street together for a brief time, until he should pay his visit and join them again.
This suited the young people very well, and they exchanged a good many confidences together. Tom told her of his home at Gablehurst, and of his mother and sister, and the father who was gone; and she told him of her quiet life in her aunt's house, and how she would so greatly like to remain always with her father, and watch the life of this wonderful city.
But Tom could well understand how the perruquier would shrink from permitting his innocent and pretty daughter to dwell beneath his roof. His trade brought thither all manner of fine dandies and young bloods, and if it were known that there was a pretty maiden within doors, there would be no end to their attempts to get sight of or speech with her; and any girl's head might be turned by the flowery nonsense that would be spoken and written to her.
"Believe me, you are better where you are, Mistress Rosy," answered Tom. "I would not have my sister Rachel here, now that I have seen what London is like. It is a place for men to see at least once in their lives; but women are better away from it. I looked about at the painted faces, the towering heads, and the huge hoops the other night, and I said to myself, that if my mother or sister were to make of themselves such objects as that, I should be ready to sink into the ground for shame--to say nothing of the ogling, and fan tapping, and silly jargon of talk which would put a chattering monkey to shame!"
If Tom was quoting Lord Claud's moralizings, he quoted them in all good faith; for he had been honestly disgusted by the glimpses he had had of the goings on of fine ladies in their houses, and could better appreciate the simplicity and true affection of his own womankind than he had ever done before.
At this moment there smote upon his ears the unwelcome sound of mocking laughter that seemed familiar to him.
"Ho, ho, ho! So the country bumpkin has found a mistress already! So he has had to leave the fine ladies, and mate with one of his own sort after all! Ho, ho, ho! She has a neat foot and ankle, at any rate! Let us see what sort of a face there is under the crimson hood!"
Tom felt the girl's hand clutch fast hold of his arm, and his blood began to tingle in his veins. He was mightily glad that he had buckled on his sword before coming out; although, as he had put on a heavy cloak, it was possible the bullies were not aware of that.
"Which house did your father enter, Mistress Rosamund?" he asked quickly.
"I did not note," she answered, looking round with frightened eyes; "but methinks it was the one with the steps and the little recess."
Tom, making a few rapid strides, whisked her quickly within the shelter of the doorway, saying, as coolly as might be:
"Knock, and ask to join your father, if he be within. I will soon settle these impudent fellows behind."
Then he faced about quickly, just as the four bullies he had met before came swaggering up, ready for any mischief and fighting that might be afoot.
"Come, Master Greengoose, let's see what sort of taste you have in faces! You are a fine hand at making friends! Let's see how you fare with the ladies!
"Nay, mistress, do not turn so coyly away and draw your hood over those bright eyes--"
But the speaker got no further, for Tom's sword bad come flashing from its sheath, and with a quick turn of the wrist he hit the fellow full on the mouth with the hilt, so that he fell back spluttering and swearing, the blood starting from his lips.
"Is that enough," said Tom sternly, "or will you have more?"
It was Thirsty Thring who had received the buffet, and he was the least disposed of all that worthy quartette to show fight to a resolute adversary; but Bully Bullen came swaggering up, drawing his sword with a great air of assurance. He had been the hero of many a tavern brawl before, and reckoned his skill as something to be feared.
"So, young rooster! Wouldst crow so lustily on your dung heap? D'ye think you're to be cock o' the walk in all London town? Are honest citizens to be set upon, and their teeth knocked out, to please your lusty humours? Take that, you young cub, and learn manners to your betters!"
He made a fierce and sudden lunge at Tom as he spoke, expecting that he had an untrained and inexperienced adversary to deal with. But Tom had had three lessons already from Captain Raikes, as well as bouts with Lord Claud by way of amusement; and with hardly a perceptible effort he parried the thrust, and making his keen blade twine round the clumsier one of his opponent, he jerked the weapon clean out of his hand, and sent it flying half across the road.
"A fig for your boasting!" he cried contemptuously. "You had best get out of my sight, lest I run you through for your impudence!"
Slippery Seal, seeing how matters were going, now raised a cry for help.
"Help! help! Watchmen, to the rescue! Here is a desperate young ruffian seeking to murder the Queen's subjects in broad daylight! Help, I say, and take the young braggart before the magistrates! Cannot peaceable citizens walk the streets without being set upon by such bullies as that yonder?"
Two watchmen at that moment came hastening up, and looked at the combatants with questioning eyes. Tom was flushed, and his sword was still in his hand; but Rosamund had been admitted to the house, and was going hot-foot in search of her father, to come and put a stop to the fight; for she bad perfect faith in his power to do anything he had a mind to.
"We four can testify," said Slippery Seal, with a voice of great unction, "that as we were peaceably passing down the street, this young fellow, of whom we know no good, made a sudden and unprovoked attack upon honest Master Thring there, whose mouth is still bleeding from the blow. Thereupon Master Bullen drew his sword to protect him; but he was set upon so furiously, that had he not been a notable swordsman he must needs have been killed. As it was, his sword was dashed from his band, and there it lies in the roadway before your eyes. I say, how long are pious and peaceable citizens to be treated thus? Do your duty, my good fellows, and take this young man into custody. A taste of the stocks will do him a vast deal of good, and we will bear testimony against him with right good will. 'In the mouth of two or three witnesses--' you know what says the Scripture."
"Ay, you blasphemer and liar, we know well what says the Scripture: 'Thou shalt not bear false witness;' and again, 'The mouth that speaketh lies shall be stopped.'"
Looking round quickly, Tom saw Master Cale, with his daughter clinging to his arm, standing in the doorway of the house, and sternly regarding the scene.
"Watchmen," he said, "if you make any prisoners today, take you those four bullies, who are but too well known in these streets already. It is they who delight to set upon strangers, and insult and frighten innocent maidens. Take you them, and I will bear witness against them; for I saw the scene with my own eyes. Would to heaven that honest citizens could rid their streets of such spawn!
"But I tell you, you mischievous scum, the day will come when we will no longer stand this swaggering and bullying. We are a patient people; but you can provoke us too far. I know you four right well. I would sit you in the stocks in a row, or have you whipped at the cart's tail from Newgate to Tyburn; and perchance the day may come when--"
But the miscreants did not wait to hear the end of this harangue. They well knew that no tale of theirs could stand for a moment before the witness of a man respected as Master Cale the perruquier. Fearful lest the watch, who had let go their hold of Tom, should in turn lay hands on them, they fled helter-skelter, but as they went they breathed out threats of being even with Tom another time, and he knew well that this encounter had changed them from the merely jeering enemies they had shown themselves at first into real antagonists full of bitter animosity and hatred.
The watch were never too eager to take up evildoers who were possessed of swords and were strong of body. They were glad enough that Master Cale had vouched for Tom's honesty, and that the other four had betaken themselves away. Hard knocks and sometimes fatal injury were often the portion of these old men, so incapable of keeping order in the streets; and thankful were they when any fray ended in the manner of this one.
But Cale's face was rather grave as he turned homewards, his daughter clinging to his arm, and Tom marching upon her other side with his head high in the air.
"I thank you, my good lad, for being so stout a champion to my little girl," he said; "and yet I would it had not happened; for it is ill work making enemies in these days of lawlessness and duelling."
But Tom gave a little laugh. He had no desire to make boast of his prowess; yet he felt that he could settle a score of quarrels with such besotted creatures as the four he had put to rout so lately, and be no manner the worse for it himself. He was not at all sorry for the adventure. He felt a flutter of pride and pleasure in the shy glances shot at him from the dark eyes beneath the crimson hood. He had made of himself a hero in the eyes of pretty Rosamund, and he liked that experience well enough.
"Fear not for me, my good friend," he answered, in a tone that had caught a little of the lofty ring of Lord Claud's.
"A man cannot go through life without making enemies as well as friends. But as for such creatures as we have just quitted, why, they are not worth a thought! I heed them no more than the wasp that buzzes round my head. They are the scum and off scouring of the earth--all brag and boast, but ready to run at the first hint of danger!"
Rosamund's eyes shot forth another look of admiration; but Cale said quietly:
"Yet it is this very scum and off scouring of the earth who have before now kidnapped and shipped off to the plantations of Virginia honest men of stout heart and stalwart frame; for there is great demand for able-bodied men there, and good prices are paid for bone and muscle. So again I say, have a care, Tom, have a care. I would not have you entertain one coward fear, yet I would have you careful not to provoke needless animosity; for we live in perilous and evil days."
The colour had faded from Rosamund's cheeks at these words, and she timidly laid a hand upon Tom's arm as he marched beside her.
"Fair sir, you will be careful," she said, in a soft and pleading voice. "If hurt were to come to you for having so gallantly befriended me, I should know no peace or happiness again!"
Tom looked with a smile into the face of the speaker; and Cale heard the words, and saw the look. He gave a little sigh, and walked on in deep thought.
It was Tom and Rosamund who did the greater part of the talking, even after they got home and partook of the dish of tea. This then costly beverage was reckoned by Rosamund as a Sunday treat, and sipped with great relish; and Tom took it for the first time, saying he would e'en make shift to like it, since Mistress Rose vouched that it was good, although he had hitherto refused it when offered at the houses of the fine folks he had visited.
So in talk and tea drinking an hour slipped away; and then the perruquier rose and bid Rosamund get her hood and come; for it was high time to fetch her aunt, and go back to Highgate.
Tom would have liked to accompany them once more, but some instinct restrained him from making the offer. He bade adieu to Rosamund at her own door, and went back to sit by the fire and muse of all the things that had happened to him during this momentous week.
"Now, Tom, keep your eyes well open. He is about to appear!"
Tom was standing, tall and silent, feeling singularly out of place in that gorgeous company, in a magnificent reception room, brilliantly lighted, and crowded from one end to the other with a throng of highly-born and fashionable persons.
He had been introduced by Lord Claud into this gay assembly, and was already half disposed to wish himself away.
Tom had been several weeks in town now; and after his first encounter with Lord Claud, which had led to such close intimacy for a few days, he had seen nothing of that remarkable personage for the space of two or three weeks.
Although perhaps a little piqued that his patron had not sent him so much as a line of invitation, or seemed to remember his existence, Tom was not sure that he regretted his lack of memory. Lord Claud had certainly fascinated his imagination, and won his affections; but he seemed to be a mysterious character, whose friendship might not prove too desirable a possession. It was not his place, he thought, with the simple pride of the countryman, to seek to thrust himself upon a man so much greater than himself. So he had gone about seeing the sights of the town with Harry Gay, spending his money with some freedom, and indulging in a little play and dicing at various houses of entertainment. But he kept within moderate bounds in his pleasures, both because he desired to eke out his funds as far as possible, and because he did not wish to fall under the displeasure of his kind host, Master Cale, the father of pretty Rosamund.
Tom thought a good deal about Rosamund during the week, and regarded Sunday as the red-letter day of his calendar. Master Cale did not forbid him to be of their company upon the afternoons when they walked abroad, and he and the maid were excellent friends by this time, and exchanged many gay quips and sallies together. Rosamund always made him tell the story of his past week in some detail; and Tom had therefore another motive for keeping free from scenes and company which would have made his story unfit hearing for her pretty ears.
Already he had begun to think that when he had travelled and seen the world, and was ready to go home and take up the duties which at five and twenty would devolve upon him, he would return with far greater contentment and pleasure if he could take back Rosamund as his wife. He could not fancy that any life would be dull and monotonous shared with her, nor any home dreary that was lightened by the sunshine of her presence.
The image of Rosamund had begun almost to obliterate that of Lord Claud in his imagination, when suddenly one day he found himself again in company of that gentleman at the coffee house he generally frequented.
Lord Claud laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder, saying, with a light laugh:
"O Tom, Tom, whom I called so trusty, I fear me you are as fickle as any maid! But what does the prophet when the mountain will not come to him? He even puts his pride in his pocket and goes to the mountain. You are a solid mountain in your way, good Tom; and here is the prophet come after you!"
Tom looked up, half ashamed, half flattered, the charm of Lord Claud's presence beginning at once to make itself felt.
"My lord, I could not think you wanted such a humble person as myself! And you had but to send me a line to Master Cale's if you did," he stammered.
Lord Claud dropped into the seat next him, laughing a light, low-toned laugh.
"I like your simplicity, my honest Tom. Keep it as long as you can; for it is a quality rarely met with in these days, and smells as sweet as lavender in country gardens. I have not been wont to need to ask my friends to visit me. They swarm about my rooms like bees round honey, so long as there be honey to gather from my hive. How do you think you are going to live, my young friend, when your store of guineas is melted, if you have not learned that noble art of picking and stealing, which our young blades of fashion practise with such success and grace?"
So the acquaintance was renewed, Tom quickly falling again beneath the spell of the strong personality of Lord Claud. He had not entirely ceased his sword practice with Captain Raikes during the past weeks, and now was to be found at his hall almost every day. Lord Claud himself would sometimes come and watch and applaud; and more than once, as the two had walked away together, linked arm in arm, his patron had said:
"Good swordsmanship is an art to be greatly prized. It makes a man respected and feared. It gives him distinction with his fellows. Besides, one never knows when it may be useful for the saving of one's skin. A man who can wield the rapier with skill, master his horse as you can, honest Tom, and shoot fair and true with pistol and musket, may go through life to a merry tune, and even die at last in his bed, if he has a mind for so respectable an end!"
The days were shortening to their darkest by now. Snow fell in the streets, and made walking disagreeable. Tom found it pleasant to ride along beside Lord Claud, mounted upon the mettlesome mare, Nell Gwynne, who appeared kept just now for his especial use and behoof. He still spent his Sundays at his lodgings; but pretty Rosamund was not always able to come across when the snow lay deep along the country roads. Tom began to think less of her again, and more of his patron and friend; being, as may have already been gleaned, a youth of impressionable nature, easily moulded by the character of his associates, although not without a latent firmness of will which might develop into sterling metal in time, though, perhaps, not until the admixture of dross had been purged away by the action of the furnace of trial.
All London was now agog over the return of the victor of Blenheim. The great Duke of Marlborough had been upon his way home for some time. In the middle of December he reached London, and took his seat in the House of Lords; and it was said that early in the next year there would be a monstrous fine procession from the Tower to Westminster, in which all the trophies of war would be solemnly paraded.
Tom was as excited as anybody over all this, and as eager to obtain sight of the great Duke. Lord Claud had promised that he should not only see him, but be one of the same company at some fine house where he would show himself. Tom had often been to grand enough houses already with his friend; but it seemed to him overmuch to suppose that he could be introduced into any company of which the Duke of Marlborough was to be a member.
Lord Claud, however, was not given to vain boasting. The open-house festivities of Christmas were approaching. He himself had won the entree to an extraordinary number of fashionable houses; and this evening here was Tom, come with his patron to a nobleman's dwelling, standing in the crowd of fashionable grandees, all in a flutter of excitement to see the hero of the hour at close quarters.
"Keep your eyes open, Tom; you cannot fail to see him as he passes through the room. You are lucky in being able to look over the heads of all the crowd. No tiptoeing lady can intercept your view even with her towering headdress!"
This was hardly true; for there were ladies whose headdresses were of such monstrous proportions that the dame of five feet stood seven feet high, taking the heels of her shoes and the tower on her head into consideration! But luckily these extravagant follies were confined only to the few, the majority of the ladies being content with a headdress of more moderate dimensions.
There was a great buzz of talk going on as it became known that the Duke was approaching--some eager to know if the Duchess would be with him; others laughing at the name, and vowing that Mrs. Morley could never bear to part with her dear Mrs. Freeman even for an hour!
The doors at the end of the room were thrown suddenly open. The master of the house appeared, leading with great distinction of manner a little knot of guests, who passed through the crowded outer reception room at a slow pace, returning the many salutations of the company with great show of goodwill, disappearing presently behind the curtains which shut off the innermost room where the lady of the house was awaiting them, with some of the more select and high-born guests.
"That is the Duke," said Lord Claud to Tom, indicating a tall and elegant man, who looked to him hardly old enough for the general of so many victorious battles. He was singularly handsome, with a languid grace of bearing that seemed strange in a soldier. He spoke in a peculiarly modulated and refined voice, and plainly possessed the art of saying the right thing to the right person, and that at the right moment. His silver tongue had done as much good service in keeping the Allies in harmony, as his military genius in forming combinations and defeating the ends of the enemy.
At his side was the Duchess, a fine-looking woman of commanding presence, not beautiful, but with a very elegant figure and remarkably abundant hair, which she wore in a more tasteful way than most of the company. A few paces behind came another notable figure, that of Marshal Tallard, the French general whom Marlborough had taken prisoner at Blenheim, and whom he had brought with him to England; but whom he treated with every courtesy, and with whom he bad formed something very like a real friendship.
Lord Claud whispered to Tom that Marshal Tallard had been the one French general whose genius was in the least able to cope with that of Marlborough; and to have him in safe keeping in this country was a most excellent thing for the Grand Alliance.
As soon as the distinguished guests had disappeared, the buzz of talk rose louder than before. Tom asked, in puzzled tones, what all this chatter about Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman meant; and Lord Claud laughed, as he replied:
"Have you never heard of the whim of the Queen to call herself Mrs. Morley in her letters to the Duchess, who in her turn is Mrs. Freeman? And very well is she so named, for never was subject more free with sovereign than is Duchess Sarah with good Queen Anne. Indeed, there be not those lacking who say that such freedom cannot go on for ever. However fondly the Queen may love the Duchess now, she cannot for ever submit to be the subject of her subject. Some day there will be a storm, and then it will behove Mrs. Freeman to sing to a different tune! For the Queen has a will of her own when once it is roused, and can show a stubborn front when she chooses--as some of her ministers have already found to their discomfiture!"
Lord Claud strolled away presently, leaving Tom to look about him and listen to the idle chatter of the shifting throng. He made out that though the Duke of Marlborough was in great popular esteem, his Duchess was little liked; and spiteful things were circulated to her disfavour all round the room. It was plain that she had a very overbearing temper, and made many enemies; but her affection for her husband and children was never disputed, nor his for her, though there were many who marvelled what a man of his parts could see in such a shrew to be so devoted to her as had always been the case.
"For she belabours him sorely with her tongue times and again, and ofttimes writes him fiery letters, which discompose him more than a reverse in arms. When she smiles, he is filled with an extraordinary joy; and when she frowns, he knows no peace till he has conciliated her. 'Tis the strangest thing in a man such as he; and the Queen is just as bad. In old days the woman would have been burned as a witch, for she has certainly bewitched that pair, though no one else can see wherein her wondrous charm lies."
Later on in the evening, when the company had somewhat thinned, and when the card rooms had drawn off a number of those who yet remained, the Duke was seen strolling by himself through the suite of rooms, exchanging friendly nods and words with the many eager acquaintances he met there.
Marlborough had that recollection of faces which is so often the prerogative of royalty; and he had none of the pride which hinders a man from greeting an old friend, even though his station in life was humble. The Duke had been but the son of a country gentleman, when he came to court as plain John Churchill. He had climbed the ladder of fame and fortune fast; but he remembered his former friends, and never forgot to salute them in company. His charm of manner was felt by all who came in contact with him. However worried or hard pressed, he never let his irritation be seen, and he never appeared in haste. He was as suave and gentle in manner amongst the humbler sort of company as in the presence of royalty itself; and his clear glance passed quickly from face to face as he talked, as though he were secretly taking the measure of men, although his languor of manner never varied.
More than once, as he walked hither and thither through the rooms, had Tom's glance crossed his. Possibly it was the young man's great height which took the eye of the soldier in the midst of this crowd, where smirking fops and bending courtiers predominated. Tom could not be accused of bowing or smirking. He remained the whole time leaning back against the wall in the same place; his face grave; his eyes following the movements of this or that person; his lips silent, because he could not frame them to the jargon of tongues and the stilted phrases of the day, and besides he had no acquaintances in this gay throng, save only Lord Claud himself.
Tom was looking in some curiosity to see if Lord Claud was acquainted with the Duke. He had never said so; but then Lord Claud was not given to boasting, and had already surprised Tom by the number of his notable acquaintances. The Duke was walking along, skirting the wall of the room. Everybody gave way for him to pass. He was now very near to Lord Claud, and not far from Tom himself, for his patron had been strolling idly in his direction.
Tom saw the eyes of the two men cross, and Lord Claud make his courtly bow, to which the Duke responded gracefully. Lord Claud took one step forward, and said in a low tone, every syllable of which, however, was audible to Tom:
"I have never before had the honour of speaking with your Grace; but there is one word that I crave to speak in your ear. If there be some secret mission of danger which the Duke of Marlborough desires to intrust to two men, stout of heart, cool of head, and skilled in the use of the sword, then I can promise that the services of myself and my trusty comrade here are at your Grace's disposal; and I think I can promise that, whether we succeed or not, we can be true to the death."
And Lord Claud, as he spoke, laid a hand upon the arm of the astonished Tom, who had certainly not understood his words of former days to mean anything quite so definite as this.
At the same time the heart of the youth leaped within him as he heard, and he felt a thrill run through his veins. As the soft yet searching gaze of the Duke fell upon him, he felt himself flush to the temples like a girl; and yet at that moment he felt that he could willingly lay down his life to serve so great a man as this.
"And who may have told you, sir, that I have need of trusty men for the secret service?" asked Marlborough, in his even tone.