* * * * *

HIS GRACE OF OSMONDE

[Illustration: "'From this night all men shall kneel--all men on whom Ideign to cast my eyes'"--_See p_ 187]

 HIS GRACE OF OSMONDE

 BEING THE PORTIONS OF THAT NOBLEMAN'S LIFE OMITTED IN THE RELATION OF HIS LADY'S STORY PRESENTED TO THE WORLD OF FASHION UNDER THE TITLE OF A LADY OF QUALITY

 BY

 FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

 ILLUSTRATED

 NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1914

 1897, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

 _Were Nature just to Man from his first hour, he need not ask for Mercy; then 'tis for us--the toys of Nature--to be both just and merciful, for so only can the wrongs she does be undone_. 

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. THE FIFTH DAY OF APRIL, 1676 1

 II. "HE IS THE KING" 13

 III. SIR JEOFFRY WILDAIRS 26

 IV. "GOD HAVE MERCY ON ITS EVIL FORTUNES" 35

 V. MY LORD MARQUESS PLUNGES INTO THE THAMES 55

 VI. "NO; SHE HAS NOT YET COME TO COURT" 65

 VII. "'TIS CLO WILDAIRS, MAN--ALL THE COUNTY KNOWS THE VIXEN" 77

 VIII. IN WHICH MY LADY BETTY TANTILLION WRITES OF A SCANDAL 92

 IX. SIR JOHN OXON LAYS A WAGER AT CRIBB'S COFFEE HOUSE 107

 X. MY LORD MARQUESS RIDES TO CAMYLOTT 119

 XI. "IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN--IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN!" 133

 XII. IN WHICH IS SOLD A PORTRAIT 141

 XIII. "YOUR--GRACE!" 158

 XIV. "FOR ALL HER YOUTH--THERE IS NO OTHER WOMAN LIKE HER" 179

 XV. "AND 'TWAS THE TOWN RAKE AND BEAUTY--SIR JOHN OXON" 190

 XVI. A RUMOUR 197

 XVII. AS HUGH DE MERTOUN RODE 217

 XVIII. A NIGHT IN WHICH MY LORD DUKE DID NOT SLEEP 235

 XIX. "THEN YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE--" 248

 XX. AT CAMYLOTT 261

 XXI. UPON THE MOOR 274

 XXII. MY LADY DUNSTANWOLDE IS WIDOWED 299

 XXIII. HER LADYSHIP RETURNS TO TOWN 319

 XXIV. SIR JOHN OXON RETURNS ALSO 337

 XXV. TO-MORROW 351

 XXVI. A DEAD ROSE 363

 XXVII. "'TWAS THE NIGHT THOU HIDST THE PACKAGE IN THE WALL" 381

 XXVIII. SIR JOHN RIDES OUT OF TOWN 394

 XXIX. AT THE COW AT WICKBEN 405

 XXX. ON TYBURN HILL 423

 XXXI. THEIR GRACES KEEP THEIR WEDDING DAY AT CAMYLOTT 440

 XXXII. IN THE TURRET CHAMBER--AND IN CAMYLOTT WOOD 457

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "'From this night all men shall kneel--all men on whom I deign to cast my eyes'" _Frontispiece_

 FACING PAGE "Your Grace, it is this lady who is to do me the great honour of becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde" 232

HIS GRACE OF OSMONDE

_CHAPTER I_

_The Fifth Day of April, 1676_

Upon the village of Camylott there had rested since the earliest peepof dawn a hush of affectionate and anxious expectancy, the veryplough-boys going about their labours without boisterous laughter, thechildren playing quietly, and the good wives in their kitchens anddairies bustling less than usual and modulating the sharpness of theirvoices, the most motherly among them in truth finding themselvesfalling into whispering as they gossiped of the great subject of thehour. 

"The swallows were but just beginning to stir and twitter in theirnests under the eaves when I heard the horses' hoofs a-clatter on thehigh road, " said Dame Watt to her neighbour as they stood in closeconfab in her small front garden. "Lord's mercy! though I have laindown expecting it every night for a week, the heart of me leapt up inmy throat and I jounced Gregory with a thump in his back to wake himfrom his snoring. 'Gregory, ' cries I, ''tis sure begun. God be kind toher young Grace this day. There goes a messenger clattering over theroad. Hearken to his horse's feet. '"

Dame Bush, her neighbour, being the good mother of fourteen stalwartboys and girls, heaved a lusty sigh, the sound of which was a thingsuggesting much experience and fellow-feeling even with noble ladies atsuch times. 

"There is not a woman's heart in Camylott village, " said she, "whichdoth not beat for her to-day--and for his Grace and the heir or heiressthat will come of these hours of hers. God bless all three!"

"Lord, how the tiny thing hath been loved and waited for!" said DameWatt. "'Tis somewhat to be born a great Duke's child! And how itsmother hath been cherished and kept like a young saint in a shrine!"

"If 'tis not a great child and a beauteous one 'twill be a wondrousthing, its parents being both beautiful and happy, and both deep inlove, " quoth motherly Bush. 

"Ay, it beginneth well; it beginneth well, " said Dame Watt--"a beingborn to wealth and state. What with chaplains and governors of virtueand learning, there seemeth no way for it to go astray in life or growto aught but holy greatness. It should be the finest duke or duchess inall England some day, surely. "

"Heaven ordains a fair life for some new-born things, 'twould seem, "said Bush, "and a black one for others; and the good can no more beescaped than the bad. There goes my Matthew in his ploughboy's smockacross the fields. 'Tis a good lad and a handsome. Why was he not agreat lord's son?"

Neighbour Watt laughed. 

"Because thou wert an honest woman and not a beauty, " quoth she. 

The small black eyes set deep in Bush's broad red face twinkledsomewhat at the rough jest, but not in hearty mirth. She rubbed herhand across her mouth with an awkward gesture. 

"Ay, " answered she, "but 'twas not that I meant. I thought of all thischild is born to--love and wealth and learning--and that others areborn to naught but ill. "

"Lawk! let us not even speak of ill on such a day, " said her neighbour. "Look at the sky's blueness and the spring bursting forth in everybranch and clod--and the very skylarks singing hard as if for joy. "

"Ay, " said Joan Bush, "and look up village street to the Plough Horse, and see thy Gregory and my Will and their mates pouring down ale todrink a health to it--and to her Grace and to my lord Duke, and to thefine Court doctors, and to the nurses, and to the Chaplain, and to oldRowe who waits about to be ready to ring a peal on the church bells. They'll find toasts enough, I warrant. "

"That will they, " said Dame Watt, but she chuckled good-naturedly, asif she held no grudge against ale drinking for this one day at least. 

'Twas true the men found toasts enough and were willing to drink themas they would have been to drink even such as were less popular. These, in sooth, were near their hearts; and there was reason they should be, no nobleman being more just and kindly to his tenants than his Grace ofOsmonde, and no lady more deservedly beloved and looked up to withadmiring awe than his young Duchess, now being tenderly watched over atCamylott Tower by one of Queen Catherine's own physicians and a scoreof assistants, nurses, and underlings. 

Even at this moment, William Bush was holding forth to the companygathered about the door of the Plough Horse, he having risen from theoaken bench at its threshold to have his pewter tankard filled again. 

"'Tis not alone Duke he will be, " quoth he, "but with titles andestates enough to make a man feel like King Charles himself. 'Tis thushe will be writ down in history, as his Grace his father hath beenbefore him: Duke of Osmonde--Marquess of Roxholm--Earl of Osmonde--Earlof Marlowell--Baron Dorlocke of Paulyn, and Baron Mertoun ofCharleroy. "

"Can a man then be six men at once?" said Gregory Watt. 

"Ay, and each of him be master of a great house and rich estate. 'Tisso with this one. 'Tis said the Court itself waits to hear the news. "

Stout Tom Comfort broke forth into a laugh. 

"'Tis not often the Court waits, " says he, "to hear news so honest. AtCamylott Tower lies one Duchess whom King Charles did not make, thankGod, but was made one by her husband. "

Will Bush set down his tankard with a smack upon the table before thesitting-bench. 

"She had but once appeared at Whitehall when his Grace met her and felldeep in love that hour, " he said. 

"Was't not rumoured, " said Tom Comfort, somewhat lowering his voice, "that _He_ cast glances her way as he casts them on every young beautybrought before him, and that his Grace could scarce hold histongue--King or no King?"

"Ay, " said Will Bush, sharply, "his royal glance fell on her, and hemade a jest on what a man's joy would be whose fortune it was to seeher violet eyes melt in love--and his Grace went to her mother, theLady Elspeth, and besought her to let him proffer his vows to the younglady; and she was his Duchess in ten months' time--and Madame Carwellhad come from France, and in a year was made Duchess of Portsmouth. "

"Heard you not that she too--some three weeks past--?" quoth Comfort, who was as fond of gossip as an old woman. 

"Seventeen days gone, " put in Bush; "and 'twas dead, by Heaven's mercy, poor brat. They say she loses her looks, and that his Majesty tires ofher, and looks already toward other quarters. " And so they sat overtheir ale and gossiped, they being supplied with anecdote by hisGrace's gentleman's gentleman, who was fond of Court life and found thecountry tiresome, and whose habit it was to spend an occasional eveningat the Plough Horse for the pleasure of having even an audience ofyokels; liking it the better since, being yokels, they would listenopen-mouthed and staring by the hour to his swagger and stories ofWhitehall and Hampton Court, and the many beauties who surrounded thesacred person of his most gracious Majesty, King Charles the Second. Every yokel in the country had heard rumours of these ladies, but Mr. Mount gave those at Camylott village details which were often true andalways picturesque. 

"What could be expected, " he would say, "of a man who had lived in gayexile through his first years, and then of a sudden was made a King, and had all the beauties of England kneeling before him--and he with asquat, black, long-toothed Portugee fastened to him for a wife? AndMistress Barbara Palmer at him from his first landing on English soilto be restored--she that was made my Lady Castlemaine. "

And then he would relate stories of this beauteous fury, and hertempestuous quarrels with the King, and of how 'twas known his ease andpleasure-loving nature stood in terror of her violence and gave waybefore it with bribes and promises through sheer weariness. 

"'Tis not that he loves her best, " said Mr. Mount, snuff-taking ingraceful Court fashion, "for he hath loved a dozen since; but she is ashrew, and can rave and bluster at him till he would hang her withjewels, and give her his crown itself to quieten her furies. 'Tis thepretty orange wench and actor woman Nell Gwynne who will please himlongest, for she is a good-humoured baggage and witty, and gives himrest. "

'Twas not alone Charles who was pleased with Nell Gwynne. All Englandliked her, and the lower orders best of all, because she was merry andkind of heart and her jokes and open-handedness pleased them. They weredeep in the midst of a story of a poor gentleman in orders whom shehad rescued from the debtors' prison, when old Rowe, who had beenwatching the road leading from the park gates, pricked up his ears andleft his seat, trembling with excitement. 

"'Tis a horse galloping, " he cried; and as they all turned to look heflung his cap in the air. "'Tis the messenger, " he burst forth, "and hewaves his hat in his hand as if he had gone mad with joy. Off go I tothe church tower as fast as legs will carry me. "

And off he hobbled, and the messenger galloped onward, flourishing hishat as he rode, and giving it no rest till he drew rein before thePlough Horse door, and all gathered about him to hear his news. 

"An heir--an heir!" he cried. "'Tis an heir, and as lusty as a younglion. Gerald Walter John Percy Mertoun, next Duke of Osmonde! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"

And at the words all the men shouted and flung up their hats, thelandlord with his wife and children ran forth, women rushed out oftheir cottages and cried for joy--and the bells in the old church'sgrey tower swung and rang such a peal of gladness as sounded as if theyhad gone wild in their ecstacy of welcome to the new-born thing. 

In all England there was no nobleman's estate adorned by a house morebeautiful than was the Tower of Camylott. Through the centuries inwhich it had stood upon the fair hill which was its site, there hadpassed no reign in which a king or queen had not been guest there, andno pair of royal eyes had looked from its window quite without envy, upon the richly timbered, far reaching park and the broad lovely landrolling away to the sea. There was no palace with such lands spreadbefore it, and there were few kings' houses as stately and beauteous intheir proportions as was this one. 

The fairest room in the fair house had ever been the one known as herGrace's White Chamber. 'Twas a spacious room with white panelled wallsand large mullioned windows looking forth over green hill and vale andpurple woodland melting into the blue horizon. The ivy grew thick aboutthe windows, and birds nested therein and twittered tenderly in theirlittle homes. The Duchess greatly loved the sound, as she did thefragrance of flowers with which the air of the White Chamber was eversweet, and which was wafted up to it by each wandering breeze from theflower-beds blooming on the terrace below. 

In this room--as the bells in the church tower rang their joyouspeal--her young Grace lay in her great bed, her new-born child on herarm and her lord seated close to her pillow, holding her little handto his lips, his lashes somewhat moist as he hung over his treasures. 

"You scarce can believe that he is here, " the Duchess whispered with atouching softness. "Indeed, I scarce believe it myself. 'Twas not fairof him to keep us waiting five years when we so greatly yearned for hiscoming. Perhaps he waited, knowing that we expected so much fromhim--such beauty and such wisdom and such strength. Let us look at himtogether, love. The physician will order you away from me soon, but letus see first how handsome he is. "

She thrust the covering aside and the two heads--one golden and onebrown--pressed closer together that they might the better behold theinfant charms which were such joy to them. 

"I would not let them bind his little limbs and head as is their way, "she said. "From the first hour I spoke with his chief nurse, I gave hermy command that he should be left free to grow and to kick his prettylegs as soon as he was strong enough. See, John, he stirs them a littlenow. They say he is of wondrous size and long and finely made, andindeed he seems so to me--and 'tis not only because I am so proud, isit?"

"I know but little of their looks when they are so young, sweet, " herlord answered, his voice and eyes as tender as her own; for in sooth hefelt himself moved as he had been at no other hour in his life before, though he was a man of a nature as gentle as 'twas strong. "I will ownthat I had ever thought of them as strange, unbeauteous red things aman almost held in fear, and whose ugliness a woman but loved becauseshe was near angel; but this one--" and he drew nearer still with agrave countenance--"surely it looks not like the rest. 'Tis not so redand crumple-visaged--its tiny face hath a sort of comeliness. It hath abroad brow, and its eyes will sure be large and well set. "

The Duchess slipped her fair arm about his neck--he was so near to her'twas easy done--and her smile trembled into sweet tears which werehalf laughter. 

"Ah, we love him so, " she cried, "how could we think him like anyother? We love him so and are so happy and so proud. "

And for a moment they remained silent, their cheeks pressed together, the scent of the spring flowers wafting up to them from the terrace, the church bells pealing out through the radiant air. 

"He was born of love, " his mother whispered at last. "He will live amidlove and see only honour and nobleness. "

"He will grow to be a noble gentleman, " said my lord Duke. "And someday he will love a noble lady, and they will be as we have been--as wehave been, beloved. "

And their faces turned towards each other as if some law of nature drewthem, and their lips met--and their child stirred softly in its firstsleep. 

_CHAPTER II_

"_He is the King_"

The bells pealed at intervals throughout the day in at least fivevillages over which his Grace of Osmonde was lord--at Roxholm theypealed, at Marlowell Dane, at Paulyn Dorlocke, at Mertounhurst, atCamylott--and in each place, when night fell, bonfires were lighted andoxen roasted whole, while there were dancing and fiddling and drinkingof ale on each village green. 

In truth, as Dame Watt had said, he had begun well--Gerald Walter JohnPercy Mertoun, Marquess of Roxholm; and well it seemed he would go on. He throve in such a way as was a wonder to his physicians and nurses, the first gentlemen finding themselves with no occasion for practisingtheir skill, since he suffered from no infant ailments whatsoever, butfed and slept and grew lustier and fairer every hour. He grew sofinely--perhaps because his young mother had defied ancient custom andforbidden his limbs and body to be bound--that at three months he wasas big and strong as an infant of half a year. 'Twas plain he was builtfor a tall man with broad shoulders and noble head. But a few monthshad passed before his baby features modelled themselves into promiseof marked beauty, and his brown eyes gazed back at human beings, notwith infant vagueness, but with a look which had in it somewhat ofquestion and reply. His retinue of serving-women were filled with suchardent pride in him that his chief nurse had much to do to keep thepeace among them, each wishing to be first with him, and being jealousof another who made him laugh and crow and stretch forth his arms thatshe might take him. The Commandress-in-Chief of the nurses was noordinary female. She was the widow of a poor chaplain--her nameMistress Rebecca Halsell--and she gratefully rejoiced to have had thehappiness to fall into a place of such honour and responsibility. Shewas of sober age, and being motherly as well as discreet, kept suchfaithful watch over him as few children begin life under. 

The figure of this good woman throughout his childhood stood out fromamong all others surrounding him, with singular distinctness. Sheseemed not like a servant, nor was she like any other in the household. As he ripened in years, he realised that in his earliest memories ofher there was a recollection of a certain grave respect she had seemedto pay him, and he saw it had been not mere deference but respect, asthough he had been a man in miniature, and one to whom, despite histender youth, dignity and reason should be qualities of nature, andtherefore might be demanded from him in all things. As early as thoughtbegan to form itself clearly in him, he singled out Mistress Halsell asa person to reflect upon. When he was too young to know wherefore, hecomprehended vaguely that she was of a world to which the rest of hisattendants did not belong. 'Twas not that she was of greatly superioreducation and manners, since all those who waited upon him had beencarefully chosen; 'twas that she seemed to love him more gravely thandid the others, and to mean a deeper thing when she called him "my lordMarquess. " She was a pock-marked woman (she having taken the diseasefrom her late husband the Chaplain, who had died of that scourge), andin her earliest bloom could have been but plainly favoured. She had alarge-boned frame, and but for a good and serious carriage would haveseemed awkward. She had, however, the good fortune to be the possessorof a mellow voice, and to have clear grey eyes, set well and deep inher head, and full of earnest meaning. 

"Her I shall always remember, " the young Marquess often said when hehad grown to be a man and was Duke, and had wife and children of hisown. "I loved to sit upon her knee, and lean against her breast, andgaze up into her eyes. 'Twas my child-fancy that there was deep withinthem something like a star, and when I gazed at it, I felt a kind ofloving awe such as grew within me when I lay and looked up at a star inthe sky. "

His mother's eyes were of so dark a violet that 'twas his fancy of themthat they looked like the velvet of a purple pansy. Her complexion wasof roses and lilies, and had in truth by nature that sweet bloom whichSir Peter Lely was kind enough to bestow upon every beauty of KingCharles's court his brush made to live on canvas. She was indeed alovely creature and a happy one, her life with her husband and child socontenting her that, young though she was, she cared as little forCourt life as my lord Duke, who, having lived longer in its midst thanshe, had no taste for its intrigues and the vices which so flourishedin its hot-bed. Though the noblest Duke in England, and of a familywhose whole history was enriched with services to the royal house, hishabits and likings were not such as made noblemen favourites at thecourt of Charles the Second. He was not given to loose adventure, andhad not won the heart of my Lady Castlemaine, since he had made no loveto her, which was not a thing to be lightly forgiven to any handsomeand stalwart gentleman. Besides this, he had been so moved by thepiteous case of the poor Queen, during her one hopeless battle for herrights when this termagant beauty was first thrust upon her as lady ofher bedchamber, that on those cruel days during the struggle when thepoor Catherine had found herself sitting alone, deserted, while herhusband and her courtiers gathered in laughing, worshipping groupsabout her triumphant rival, this one gentleman had sought by hiscourteous respect to support her in her humiliated desolation, thoughthe King himself had first looked black and then had privately mockedat him. 

"He hath fallen in love with her, " the Castlemaine had said afterwardsto a derisive group; "he hath fallen deep in love--with her long teethand her Portuguese farthingale. "

"She needs love, poor soul, Heaven knows, " the Duke returned, when thisspeech was repeated to him. "A poor girl taken from her own country, married to a King, and then insulted by his Court and his mistresses!Some man should remember her youth and desolateness, and not forgetthat another man has broke her heart and lets his women laugh at hermisfortunes. "

'Twould have been a dangerous speech perhaps had a man of the Court ofHenry the Eighth made it, even to a friend, but Charles was too lightlyvicious and too fond of gay scenes to be savage. His brutality was suchas was carelessly wreaked on hearts instead of heads--hearts hepolluted, made toys of, flung in the mire or broke; heads he left onthe shoulders they belonged to. But he did not love his Grace ofOsmonde, and though his rank and character were such that he could notwell treat him with indignity, he did not regret that after his Grace'smarriage with the Lady Rosalys Delile he appeared but seldom at Court. 

"He is a tiresome fellow, for one can find no fault with him, " hisMajesty said, fretfully. "Odd's fish! fortune is on his side where myhouse is concerned. His father fought at Edgehill and Marston Moor, andthey tell me died but two years after Naseby of a wound he had there. Let him go and bury himself on his great estates, play the benefactorto his tenantry, listen to his Chaplain's homilies, and pay statelyvisits to the manors of his neighbours. "

His Grace lived much in the country, not being fond of town, but he didnot bury himself and his fair spouse. Few men lived more active livesand found such joy in existence. He entertained at his country seatsmost brilliantly, since, though he went but seldom to London, he wasable to offer London such pleasures and allurements that it was glad tocome to him. There were those who were delighted to leave the Courtitself to visit Roxholm or Camylott or some other of his domains. Menwho loved hunting and out-of-door life found entertainment on theestates of a man who was the most splendid sportsman of his day, whosemoors and forests provided the finest game and his stables the finesthorses in England. Women who were beauties found that in his statelyrooms they might gather courts about them. Men of letters knew that inhis libraries they might delve deep into the richest mines. Those wholoved art found treasures in his galleries, and wide comprehension andfinished tastes in their master. 

And over the assemblies, banquets, and brilliant hunt balls therepresided the woman with the loveliest eyes, 'twas said, in England, Scotland, Ireland, or Wales--the violet eyes King Charles had beenstirred by and which had caused him a bitter scene with my LadyCastlemaine, whose eyes were neither violet nor depths of tenderpurity. The sweetest eyes in the world, all vowed them to be; and therewas no man or woman, gentle or simple, who was not rejoiced by theirsmiling. 

"In my book of pictures, " said the little Marquess to his mother once, "there is an angel. She looks as you do when you come in your whiterobe to kiss me before you go down to dine with the ladies andgentlemen who are our guests. Your little shining crown is made ofglittering stones, and hers is only gold. Angels wear only goldencrowns--but you are like her, mother, only more beautiful. "

The child from his first years was used to the passing and repassingacross his horizon of brilliant figures and interesting ones. From thebig mullioned window of his nursery he could see the visitors come andgo, he watched the beaux and beauties saunter in the park andpleasaunce in their brocades, laces, and plumed hats, he saw thescarlet coats ride forth to hunt, and at times fine chariots roll upthe avenue with great people in them come to make visits of state. Hislittle life was full of fair pictures and fair stories of them. Whenthe house was filled with brilliant company he liked nothing so much asto sit on Mistress Halsell's knee or in his chair by her side and askher questions about the guests he caught glimpses of as they passed toand fro. He was a child of strong imagination and with a great likingfor the romantic and poetic. He would have told to him again and againany rumour of adventure connected with those he had beheld. He wasgreatly pleased by the foreign ladies and gentlemen who were among theguests--he liked to hear of the Court of King Louis the Fourteenth, andto have pointed out to him those visitors who were personages connectedwith it. He was attracted by the sound of foreign tongues, and wouldinquire to which country a gentleman or lady belonged, and would thrusthis head out of the window when they sauntered on the terraces belowthat he might hear them speak their language. As was natural, he heardmuch interesting gossip from his attendants when they were not awarethat he was observing, they feeling secure in his extreme youth. Hecould not himself exactly have explained how his conception of thedifference between the French and English Courts arose, but at sevenyears old, he in some way knew that King Louis was a finer gentlemanthan King Charles, that his Court was more elegant, and that thebeauties who ruled it were not merry orange wenches, or romping cardhouse-building maids of honour, or splendid viragoes who raved andstamped and poured forth oaths as fishwives do. How did he know it--andmany other things also? He knew it as children always know things theirelders do not suspect them of remarking, but which, falling upon theirlittle ears sink deep into their tiny minds, and lying there like seedsin rich earth, put forth shoots and press upwards until they piercethrough the darkness and flower and bear fruit in the light of day. Heknew that a certain great Duchess of Portsmouth had been sent over fromFrance by King Louis to gain something from King Charles, who hadfallen in love with her. The meaning of "falling in love" he was yetvague in his understanding of, but he knew that the people hated herbecause they thought she played tricks and would make trouble forEngland if she led the King as she tried to do. The common peoplecalled her "Madame Carwell, " that being their pronunciation of theFrench name she had borne before she had been made a Duchess. He hadonce heard his nurses Alison and Grace gossiping together of a greatservice of gold the King had given her, and which, when it had been onexhibition, had made the people so angry that they had said they wouldlike to see it melted and poured down her throat. "If he must give it, "they had grumbled, "he had better have bestowed it upon Madame Ellen. "

Hearing this, my lord Marquess had left his playing and gone to thewomen, where they stood enjoying their gossip and not thinking of him. He stood and looked up at Alison in his grave little way. 

"Who is Madame Ellen, Alison?" he inquired. 

"Good Lord!" the woman exclaimed, aside to her companion. 

"Why do the people like her better than the other?" he persisted. 

At this moment Mistress Halsell entered the nursery, and her keen eyesaw at once that his young Lordship had put some question to hisattendants which they scarce knew how to answer. 

"What does my lord Marquess ask, Grace?" she said; and my lord Marquessturned and looked at herself. 

"I heard them speak of Madame Ellen, " he answered. "They said somethingabout some pretty things made of gold and that the people were angrythat they were for her Grace of Portsmouth instead of Madame Ellen. Whydo they like her better?"

Mistress Halsell took his hand and walked with him to their favouriteseat in the big window. 

"It is because she is the better woman of the two, my lord, " she said. 

"Is the other one bad, then?" he inquired. "And why does his Majestygive her things made of gold?"

"To pay her, " answered Mistress Rebecca, looking thoughtfully out ofthe window. 

"For what?" the young Marquess asked. 

"For--for that an honest woman should not take pay for. "

"Then why does he love her? Is he a bad King?" his voice lowering as hesaid it and his brown-eyed, ruddy little face grown solemn. 

"A quiet woman in a place like mine cannot judge of Kings, " sheanswered; "but to be King is a grave thing. "

"Grave!" cried he; "I thought it was very splendid. All England belongsto him; he wears a gold crown and people kneel to kiss his hand. Myfather and mother kneel to him when they go to the Court. "

"That is why it is grave, " said Mistress Rebecca. "All the people lookto him for their example. Because he is their head they follow him. Hecan lead them to good or evil. He can help England to be honest orbase. He is the KING. "

The little fellow looked out upon the fair scene spread before him. Many thoughts he could not yet have found words for welled up withinhim and moved him vaguely. 

"He is the King, " he repeated, softly; "he is the _King_!"

Mistress Rebecca looked at him with tender, searching eyes. She had, through her own thoughts, learned how much these smallcreatures--sometimes dealt with so carelessly--felt when they were tooyoung for phrases, and how much, also, they remembered their wholelives through. 

"He is the King, " she said, "and a King must think of his people. ADuke, too, must think of his--as his Grace, your father, thinks, neverdealing lightly with his great name or his great house, or those ofwhom he is governor. "

The boy climbed upon her knee and sat there, leaning against her as heloved to do. His eyes rested on the far edge of the farthest purplemoor, behind which the sun seemed to be slipping away into some otherworld he knew not of. The little clouds floating in the high blue skywere rosy where they were not golden; a flock of rooks was flyingslowly homeward over the tree-tops, cawing lazily as they came. A greatand beautiful stillness seemed to rest on all the earth, and his littlemind was full of strange ponderings, leading him through labyrinths ofdreams he would remember and comprehend the deep meaning of only whenhe was a man. Somehow all his thoughts were trooping round about a richand brilliant figure which was a sort of image standing to him for thepersonality of his Most Sacred Majesty King Charles the Second--theKing who was not quite a King, though all England looked to him, and hecould lead it to good or evil. 

_CHAPTER III_

_Sir Jeoffry Wildairs_

It was not common in those days for young gentlemen of quality to lovetheir books too dearly; in truth, men of all ranks and ages were givenrather to leaving learning and the effort to acquire it to those whodepended upon professions to gain their bread for them. Men of rank andfortune had too many amusements which required no aid from books, which, indeed, were not greatly the fashion. For country gentlementhere was hunting, coursing, cock-fights, the exhilarating watching ofcudgelling bouts between yokels, besides visiting, and much eating anddrinking and smoking of tobacco while jovial, and sometimes not toofastidious stories were told. When a man went up to town he had otherpleasures to fill his time, and whether he was a country gentlemanmaking his yearly visit or a fashionable rake and beau, hisentertainment was not usually derived from books, a man who spent muchtime with them being indeed generally regarded as a milksop. But fromthe time when he lay stretched upon his nursery floor and gazed atpictures and lettering he had not learned to read, the little Marquesshad a fondness for books. He learned to read early, and once havinglearned, was never so full of pleasure as when he had a volume to poreover. At first he revelled in stories of magicians, giants, afrits, andgnomes, but as soon as his tutors took him in hand he wakened every dayto some new interest. Languages ancient and modern he learned withgreat rapidity, having a special fondness for them, and at thirteencould speak French, high Dutch, and Italian excellently well for hisyears, besides having a scholarly knowledge of Latin and Greek. Histutor, Mr. Fox, an elderly scholar of honourable birth and manyattainments, was as proud of his talents and advancement as his femaleattendants had been of his strength and beauty in his infancy. Thisgentleman, whose income had been reduced by misfortune, who had losthis wife and children tragically by one illness, and who had come toundertake his pupil an almost brokenhearted man, found in the promiseof this young mind a solace he had never hoped to know again. 

"I have taught young gentlemen before, " he remarked privately toMistress Halsell--"one at least with royal blood in his veins, thoughhe was not called prince--but my lord Marquess has a fire I have seenin no other. To set him to work upon a new branch of study is likesetting a flame to brushwood. 'Tis as though he burned his way to thathe would reach. " The same fire expressed itself in all he did. He waspassionately fond of all boyish sports, and there was no bodily feat heundertook which he did not finally perform better than others of hisage performed it. He could leap, run, fence, shoot at a mark; there wasno horse he could not ride, and at ten he stood as tall as a boy offourteen, and was stalwart and graceful into the bargain. Of his beautythere could be no question, it being of an order which marked him inany assembly. 'Twas not only that his features were of so fine amoulding, that his thick hair curled about his brow in splendid rings, and that he had a large deep eye, tawny brown and fearless as a younglion's, but there was in the carriage of his head, the bearing of hisbody, the very movement of his limbs a thing which stamped him. Intruth, it was as if nature, in a lavish mood and having leisure, hadbuilt a human creature of her best and launched him furnished forthwith her fairest fortunes, that she might behold what he would do. Thefirst time he was taken by his parents to London, there was a day uponwhich, while walking in the garden of Hampton Court, accompanied by hisgovernor, he found himself stopped by a splendid haughty lady, whom Mr. Fox saluted with some fearfulness when she addressed him. She asked theboy's name, and, putting her hand on his shoulder, so held him thatshe might look at him well. 

"The little Roxholm, " she said. "Yes, his mother was the beauty who--"

'Twas as if she checked her speech. She made a quick, imperiousmovement with her head, and added: "He is all rumour said of him;" andshe turned away with such abruptness that the child asked himself howhe had vexed her, and wondered also at her manners, he being used onlyto grace and courtesy. 

They were near the end of the terrace which looked upon the RiverThames, and she went with her companion and leaned upon the stonebalustrades, looking out upon the water with fierce eyes. "The womanwho could give him a son like that, " she said, "could hold him againstall others, and demand what she chose. Squat Catherine herself could doit. "

Little Roxholm heard her. 

"She is a very handsome lady, " he said, innocently, "though she has astrange way. Is she of the Court, and do you know her name?"

"'Tis her Grace the Duchess of Cleveland, " answered Mr. Fox, gravely, as they walked away. 

He was seven years old at this time, and 'twas during this visit totown that he heard a conversation which made a great impression uponhim, opening up as it did new vistas of childish thinking. Havingknown but one phase of existence, he was not aware that he had livedthe life of a young prince in a fairy tale, and that there were otherchildren whose surroundings were as gloomy as his were fair and bright. 

He was one day comfortably ensconced in the deep embrasure of a window, a book upon his knee, when Mistress Halsell and one of the upperservants came into the room upon which his study opened, and presentlyhis ear was attracted by a thing they were speaking of with somefeeling. 

"As sweetly pretty a young lady as ever one beheld, " he heard. "Neversaw I a fairer skin or eyes more hyacinth-blue--and her hair trailingto the ground like a mantle, and as soft and fine as silk. "

'Twas this which made him stop in his reading. The description seemingso like that of a beauty in a story of chivalry in which knights foughtfor such loveliness. 

"And now, " the voice went on, "after but a few years of marriage allher beauty lost so that none would know her! Four poor, weak girlinfants she hath given birth to, and her husband, Sir Jeoffry, in afury at the coming of each, raging that it is not an heir. Before thefirst came he had begun to slight her, and when 'twas born a girl hewell-nigh broke her heart. He is a great, bold, handsome man, and she, poor little lady, hopeless in her worship of him. And the next yearthere was another girl, and each year since--and Sir Jeoffry spends histime in riot and drinking and ill-living--and she fades away in herwing of the house, scarce ever seen. "

"Poor, uncared-for thing, 'twould be happier if God took her, and herchildren, too, " said Mistress Halsell. 

"Three have been taken, " replied her companion, in a low voice. "Neither she nor they have strength. And ah! to see her in thesedays--her pretty face grown thin and haggard, the blue of her eyesdrenched out with weeping. 'Tis told he once said to her, 'When a womangrows thin and yellow, her husband will go in search of better looks, and none has right to blame him. ' 'Twas on a day when she had dressedherself in her best to please him, but a few weeks after her thirdinfant came into the world. And so weak was she, poor lady, and so hurtin spirit, that she gave a little sob and swooned. "

The young Marquess read his book no more. He drew down his handsomechildish brow and stared straight before him through the window. He wasa boy with a fiery spirit, despite his general amiability of demeanour, and, had he lived among tormentors and tyrants and been ill-treated, would have had an ungovernable temper. The thing he had heard filledhim with a kind of rage against this big handsome man who treated hislady cruelly and hated her infants. 'Twas all brutal and wicked andunfair, as if one should heartlessly beat a little dog that loved one. The picture brought before him was hideous and made him grow hot. Hisspirit had never been tamed, he had the blood of fighting men in hisveins, and he had read innumerable stories of chivalry. He wished hewere big enough to go forth in search of such men as this Sir Jeoffry, and strike them to the earth with his sword. 

On such evenings as their Graces did not entertain, he was taken by hisgovernour to spend an hour with his father and mother in thewithdrawing-room, where they sat, and on this evening, when he went tothem, each of them observed that he spoke less than usual and seemed ina new mood. He had always been filled with a passionate adoration ofhis mother, and was much given to following her with his eyes; but thisnight his gaze was fixed upon her in such earnest scrutiny that at lasther Grace asked him laughingly what he saw in her looks more thanordinary. He had kept very close to her, and had held her hand, andkissed it more than once since he had been in the room. He lifted it tohis lips again now, and pressed an impassioned kiss upon its fairness. 

"You were never treated cruelly, " he said. "No one would ever dare tospeak so to you that you would sob and swoon. If any dared!" and hislittle hand involuntarily went to his side with a fierce childishgesture which made my lord Duke laugh delightedly. 

"'Tis in his blood to draw, " he said. "Bravo! Roxholm; bravo!"

His mother looked at his beautiful little face and, seeing a thing inhis eyes which women who are mothers detect in the eyes of theiroffspring when others observe little, put a hand on each of hisshoulders and went upon one knee so that she could be on a level withhis face and see deeper. 

"What, " she said, with a tender comprehending warmth, "you have beenhearing of some poor lady who is hardly treated, and you cannot endureto think of it, because you are a man even though you are but sevenyears old;" and she bent forward and kissed him with a lovely passionand her violet eyes bedewed. "Yes, love, " she said, "you are a Man. AllOsmondes are when they are born, I think. Indeed, John"--with thesweetest laughing look at her lord, who stood worshipping her from hisplace at the opposite side of the hearth--"I am sure that when you wereseven years old, if you had had a little sword, you would have drawn itto defend a woman against a giant, though he had been big enough tohave eaten you at one mouthful--and Gerald is like you, " proudly. "Gerald is a Man, too. "

"'Tis not fair, " cried little Roxholm, passionately, "'tis not fairthat a big gentleman should be so harsh to a poor lady who loves him, that he should make her cry till the blue goes from her eyes and she isbeautiful no longer, and that he should hate her infants because theyare not boys. And when she tried to please him he made her sob andswoon away. He should be killed for it--he should be killed. "

His father and mother glanced at each other. "Surely, " her Grace said, "he must have heard of the wicked Gloucestershire baronet my LordDunstanwolde told us stories of--Sir Jeoffry. "

"Ay, his name was Sir Jeoffry, " cried Roxholm, eagerly. "Sir Jeoffry itwas they said. "

"Yes, " said my lord Duke, "Sir Jeoffry Wildairs, and a rank, heartlessbrute he is to be the father of helpless girl children. "

_CHAPTER IV_

"_God Have Mercy on its Evil Fortunes_"

In the constantly changing panorama which passes before the mind of achild, it is certain no picture dawns and fades without leaving sometrace behind. The exact images may not be recorded, but the effectproduced by their passing will remain and become part of the palimpsestof life and character. The panorama which passed before the mentalvision of the boy Marquess during the years of his early youth was notonly brilliant but full of great changes, being indeed such a panoramaas could not fail to produce strong and formative impressions upon agrowing mind. The doings of Charles Stuart's dissolute and brilliantCourt he began life hearing stories of; before he had reached ten yearsof age, King Charles had died and James the Second was ruler ofEngland; in three years more his Majesty had been deserted by all andhad fled to the protection of Louis of France, leaving his crown behindhim to be offered to and accepted by William of Orange and Mary, hiswell-beloved wife; but four years later Queen Mary had died ofsmall-pox and left her husband overwhelmed with grief, crying that hehad been the happiest of men and was now the most miserable. Kings arenot made and deposed, crowned and buried and mourned, without pomps, ceremonials, and the occurring of events which must move even thecommon mind to observation and reflection. This young mind was of nocommon mould, it having come into the world active and by nature readyto receive impressions, and from its earliest consciousness had beenwatched and cultured in such manner as must have enriched even thepoorest understanding. As children of ordinary rank are familiar withgames, and hear of simple every-day events that happen to theirneighbours, this heir to a dukedom was familiar with the game of Courtsand rulers and heard daily discussion of Kings and great statesmen--oftheir rights and wrongs, their triumphs and failures. The changingevents made such discussion inevitable, and the boy, being throughtheir wise affection treated almost as the companion of his parents, heard much important conversation which filled him with deep interestand led him into grave thinking which greatly developed his powers ofmind. Among the many memories which remained with him throughout hislife, and which in his later years he realised, had left a singularlydefinite image upon his mind, was this small incident of his firsthearing of the Gloucestershire baronet whose lady had wept the bluefrom her eyes in her wretchedness under his brutal neglect and cruelty. The impression doubtless owed much of its vividness to the fact that'twas made so early as to be the first realising of the existence of aworld where misery dwelt as a common thing, where men were coarse andcruel, where women were tyrannised over and treated roughly, and wherechildren were unloved and neglected. Into this world he had previouslyobtained no glimpse; but, once having realised its existence, he couldnot easily forget it. Often as time passed he found himself haunted bythoughts of the poor injured lady and her children, and being acreature of strong imagination, there would rise before him mentalpictures of what a household might be whose master was a coarse rioterbefore whom his wife and children cowered in fear. 

So it happened in his conversing with Mistress Halsell he broached thesubject of the Gloucestershire baronet, and the good woman, seeing thathis speech did not arise from idle curiosity, told him what she knew ofthis most unhappy family. 

'Twas an old family and a good one in the matter of lineage, butthrough the debaucheries of the last baronets its estates had becomeimpoverished and its reputation of an ill savour. It had ever beenknown as a family noted for the great physical strength and beauty ofits men and women. For centuries the men of the house of Wildairs hadbeen the biggest and the handsomest in England. They had massiveframes, black eyes, thick hair and beards, and feared neither man nordevil, but openly defied both. They were men who lived wildly, ate anddrank hugely, pursued women, were great at all deeds of prowess, andbursting with rough health and lawless high spirits. 'Twas a saying oftheir house that "a Wildairs who could not kill an ox with a blow andeat half of him when he was roasted, was a poor wight indeed. " Thepresent baronet, Sir Jeoffry, was of somewhat worse reputation than anySir Jeoffry before him. He lived a wild life in the country, rarelygoing up to town, as he was not fond of town manners and town customs, but liked better hunting, coursing, cock-fighting, bull-baiting, andengaging in intrigues with dairy maids and the poppy-cheeked daughtersof his cottagers. He had married a sweet creature of fifteen, whomafter their brief honeymoon he had neglected as such men neglect awoman, leaving her to break her heart and lose her bloom and beauty inher helpless mourning for his past passion for her. He was at drawnswords with his next of kin, who despised him and his evil, roughliving, and he had set his mind upon leaving sons enough to make surehis title should be borne only by his own offspring. He being of thismind, 'twas not to be wondered at that he had no welcome for thedaughters who should have pleased him by being sons. When the first wasborn he flouted its mother bitterly, the poor young lady, who was butsixteen and a delicate creature, falling into a fit of illness throughher grief and disappointment. The coming of the second threw him into arage, the third into a fury; and the birth of a fourth being announced, he stormed like a madman, would not look at it, and went upon a debauchso protracted and disgraceful as to be the scandal of the county andthe subject of gossip for many a day. 

From that hour the innocent Lady Wildairs did not raise her head. Herfamily had rejected her on account of her marriage with a rake sounfashionable and of reputation so coarse. Wildairs Hall, ill kept, andgoing to ruin through the wasteful living of its spendthrift master, was no place for such guests as were ladies and gentlemen. The onlyvisitors who frequented it were a dozen or so chosen spirits who sharedSir Jeoffry's tastes--hunted, drank, gambled with him, and were asloose livers as himself. My Lady Wildairs, grown thin, yellow, andhaggard, shrank into her own poor corner of the big house, a bare westwing where she bore her children in lonely suffering and saw them die, one after the other, two only having the strength to survive. She washer lord's hopeless slave, and at the same time the mere knowledge ofher existence was an irritation to him, she being indeed regarded byhim as a Sultan might regard the least fortunate of his harem. 

"Damn her, " he cried once to one of his cronies, a certain LordEldershaw, "in these days I hate the sight of her, with her skinnythroat and face. What's a woman for, after she looks like that? If shewere not hanging about my neck I could marry some fine strapping girlwho would give me an heir before a year was out. "

If young Roxholm did not hear this special anecdote, he heard othersfrom various sources which were productive in him of many puzzled andsomewhat anxious thoughts. "Why was it, " he pondered, "that women whohad not the happy fortune of his mother seemed at so cruel adisadvantage--that men who were big and handsome having won them, grewtired of them and cast them aside, with no care for their lonelinessand pain? Why had God so made them that they seemed as helpless as poordriven sheep? 'Twas not fair it should be so--he could not feel ithonest, though he was beset by grave fears at his own contumacy sincehe had been taught that God ordained all things. Had he ordained this, that men should be tyrants, and base, and cruel, and that women shouldbe feeble victims who had but the power to moan and die and beforgotten? There was my Lord Peterborough, who had fought againstAlgerine pirates, and at nineteen crowned his young brow with glory inaction at Tripoli. To the boyish mind he was a figure so brilliant andgallant and to be adored that it seemed impossible to allow that hisshining could be tarnished by a fault, yet 'twas but a year after hismarriage with the fair daughter of Fraser of Mearns that he had weariedof his love and gaily sailed for the Algerine coast again. Whether theyoung Countess had bewailed her lot or not, Roxholm had not chanced tohear, but having had for husband a young gentleman so dazzling and fullof fascination, how could she have found herself deserted and feel noheartache and shed no tears? My lord could sail away and fightcorsairs, but her poor ladyship must remain behind and do battle onlywith her heart, gaining no laurels thereby. 

The sentiment of the times was not one which rated women high or wasfraught with consideration for female weakness. Charles Stuart taughtmen how women should be regarded, and the beauties of his Court hadaided him in such manner as deepened the impression he had produced. Abeauty had her few years of triumph in which she was pursued, intriguedwith, worshipped, flattered, had madrigals sung in her honour; thoseyears over, no one cared to hear of the remainder of her life. If therewere dregs left in her cup, she drank them alone. A woman who had nobeauty was often a mere drudging or child-bearing wife, scapegoat forill-humour and morning headaches; victim, slave, or unnoticedappendage. This the whilom toast Lady Wildairs had become, and therewere many like her. 

The Earl of Dunstanwolde, who was the nobleman who had spoken to theDuke and Duchess of the Gloucestershire Baronet, was a distant kinsman, and a somewhat frequent visitor both at their Graces' country estatesand at their town establishment, Osmonde House. His own estate was nearGloucestershire, and he knew the stories of Wildairs Hall, as did somany others. 

This gentleman was somewhat past middle age, and was the owner of suchqualities of mind and heart as had won for him the friendship of allthinking persons who knew him. A man of kindly refinement and dignity, familiar with arts and letters, and generous in his actions both to hisequals and his inferiors, he was of ancient blood, and had largeestates in the country and a great house in town. 

But, notwithstanding the honourableness of his position, and the easeof his circumstances, he was not a happy gentleman, having made alove-match in his youth, and lost his passionately worshipped consortat the birth of her first child, who had lived but two hours. He hadbeen so happy in his union that, being of a constant nature, he couldnot console himself for his bereavement, and had remained a widower, content that his estates and titles should pass to a distant cousin whowas the next heir. He was a sad-faced gentleman with delicately cutfeatures, and eyes which looked as if they had beheld sorrow, therebeing deep lines about them, and also about his mouth. 

This nobleman had for Roxholm a great attraction--his voice, hisbearing, and his gentle gravity all seemed to convey a thing whichreached the boy's heart. On his own part the childless man had from thefirst felt for his little kinsman a pathetic affection. Had fate beenkind, instead of cruel, the son of his own Alice might have so bloomedand grown stalwart and fair. He liked to talk with the child even whenhe was but a few years old, and as time passed, and he shot up into ahandsome, tall lad, their friendship became a singularly close one. When my lord was at Camylott the country people became accustomed toseeing the two ride through the lanes together, the gamekeepers in thepark were familiar with the sight of the elder gentleman and the youngMarquess walking side by side down unfrequented woodland paths engagedin earnest conversation, his lordship's hand oftenest resting on theyoung shoulder as they went. 

There was a subject of which these two talked often, and with greatinterest, it being one for which Roxholm had always felt a love, sincethe days when he had walked through the picture gallery with his nurse, looking up with childish delight at the ladies and gentlemen in thefamily portraits, asking to be told stories of their doings, andrequiring that it be explained to him why they wore costumes whichseemed strange to him. Mistress Halsell had been able to tell him manystories of them, as also had his father and mother and Mr. Fox, hisgovernour, and these stories had so pleased him that he had ponderedupon them until their heroes and heroines seemed his familiar friends, and made of as firm flesh and real blood as the ladies and gentlemenwho were his kinswomen and kinsmen to-day. It had always been hispleasure to remember that the stories to be told of them were such fineones. There were Crusaders among them who had done splendid deeds;there were men who had fought by the side of their King in battle, andthere were those who had done high service for him with brain andspoken word when his power stood in danger of being overthrown. To theboy there seemed indeed to have been no battle either of Church orState, or with enemies in open field in which Mertouns had not fought. Long before the Conquest, Normandy had known their high-strung spiritand fiery valour. At Senlac, Guilbert de Mertoun had stood near Williamof Normandy when he gave his command to his archers that they shouldshoot into the air, whereby an arrow sought English Harold for its markand pierced him through eye and brain, leaving him slain, and Williamconqueror. This same Guilbert, William had loved for his fierce braveryand his splendid aim in their hunting the high deer, of whom 'twas saidthe monarch "loved them as if he had been their father;" and when theDomesday Book was made, rich lands were given to him that, as the Kingsaid--there should be somewhat worthy of his holding to be recordedtherein. It had been a Guilbert de Mertoun who rode with Rufus when hewould cross to Normandy to put down insurrection there. These two werealike in their spirit (therefore little Roxholm had ever worshippedboth), and when they reached the seashore in a raging storm, and thesailors, from fear, refused to put forth, and Rufus cried, "Heard yeever of a King who was drowned, " 'twas Guilbert who sprang forwardswearing he would set sail himself if others would not, and so stirredthe cowards with his fierce passionate courage that they obeyed theorders given them and crossed the raging sea's arm in the tempest, Guilbert standing in their midst spurring them with shouts, while thewind so raged that only a man of giant strength could have stoodupright, and his voice could scarce be heard above its fury. And 'twashe who was at the front when the insurgents were overpowered. Of thisone, of whom 'twas handed down that he was of huge build, and had beardand hair as flaming as Rufus's own, there were legends which made himthe idol of Roxholm's heart in his childhood. Again and again it hadbeen his custom to demand that they should be repeated to him--thestories of the stags he had pierced to the heart in one day's huntingin the New Forest--the story of how he was held in worship by hisvilleins, and of his mercifulness to them in days when nobles had thepower of life and death, and to do any cruelty to those in servitude tothem. 

In Edward the Third's time, when the Black Death swept England, therehad lived another Guilbert who, having for consort a lovely, noblelady, they two had hand in hand devoted themselves to battling thepestilence among their serfs and retainers, and with the aid of abrother of great learning (the first Gerald of the house) had soughtout and discovered such remedies as saved scores of lives and modifiedthe sufferings of all. At the end of their labours, when the violenceof the plague was assuaged, the lovely lady Aloys had died of thefatigues she had borne and her husband had devoted himself to a life ofmerciful deeds, the history of which was a wondrous thing for animpassioned and romance-loving boy to pore over. 

Upon the romances of these lives the imagination of the infant Roxholmhad nourished itself, and the boy Roxholm being so fed had builded hisyoung life and its ideals upon them. 

It was of these ancestors of his house and of their high deeds he foundpleasure and profit in talking to his kinsman and friend, and 'twas anincident which took place during one of my Lord Dunstanwolde's visitsto Camylott which led them to this manner of converse. 

Roxholm was but eleven years old when in taking a barred gate on a newhorse the animal leapt imperfectly and, falling upon his rider, broke aleg and two ribs for him. The injuries were such as all knew must givethe boy sharp anguish of body, when he was placed upon a hurdle andcarried home. His father galloped to the Tower to break the news to herGrace and prepare her for his coming. My Lord Dunstanwolde walked bythe hurdle side, and as he did so, watching the boy closely, he wastouched to see that though his beautiful young face was white as deathand he lay with closed eyes, he uttered no sound and his lips wore abrave smile. 

"Is your pain great, Roxholm?" my Lord asked with tender sympathy. 

Roxholm opened his eyes and, still smiling, blushed faintly. 

"I think of John Cuthbert de Mertoun, " he said in a low voice. "It aidsme to hold the torment at bay. "

He spoke the words with some shyness, as if feeling that one older thanhimself might smile at the romantic wildness of his fancy. But this myLord Dunstanwolde did not, understanding him full well, and lying ahand on his pressed it with warm affection. The story of John Cuthbertwas, that a hound suddenly going mad one day while he hunted deep inthe forest, it had attacked a poor follower and would have torn histhroat had his lord not come to his rescue, pulling the beast from himand drawing its fury upon himself, whereby in his battle with it he washorribly bitten; and when the animal lay dead upon the sward he drewhis hunting-knife and cut out the mangled flesh with his own hand, "andwinced not nor swouned, " as the chronicle recorded with open joy inhim. 

'Twas while Roxholm lay in bed recovering of his injuries that hiskinsman referred to this again, asking him what thoughts he had had ofthis hero and wherein he had felt them an aid, and the boy's answersand the talk which followed them had been the beginning of many suchconversations, his Lordship finding the young mind full of vigour andfine imagination. Often, as they conversed in after times, the olderman was moved by the courageous fancies and strong, high ideals hefound himself confronting. 'Twas all so brave and beautiful, and therewas such tragedy in the thought that life might hold clouds to dull thegold of it. 'Tis but human that those of maturer years who have knownsorrow should be reminded of it by the very faith and joyfulness ofyouth. One of the fine features of the Tower of Camylott was its LongGallery, which was of such length and breadth and so finely panelled asto be renowned through all the land. At each end the broad windowslooked out upon noble stretches of varying hill and tall and venerableforest, and in wet weather, when the house was full the ladies andgentlemen would promenade there, chatting or sometimes playing games toamuse themselves. 

In such weather my Lord Dunstanwolde and his young kinsman sometimespaced whole mornings away together, and 'twas on such an occasion thatthere first entered into Roxholm's life that which later filled andruled it and was its very self. But at this time he was scarcelyfourteen, and 'twas but the first strange chapter of a story he heard, in no way dreaming that 'twas one of which his own deepest pain andhighest raptures would be part. 

Often as the years passed, my Lord Dunstanwolde looked back upon thisDecember day and remembered how, as they walked to and fro, he hadmarked for the hundredth time how beautiful and picturesque a figurethe boy made in his suit of rich-coloured brocade, his curling, warmbrown hair falling on his shoulders in thick, natural curls such as noperruquier could imitate, the bloom of health and out-door life uponhis cheek, his handsome, well-opened eye sparkling or melting in kindlywarmth as he conversed. He was a tall, straight-limbed lad, and had bythis time attained such height and so bore himself that there were butfew inches between his noble kinsman and himself, though the yearsbetween them were so many, and my Lord Dunstanwolde was of no meanstature. 

Outside a heavy rain fell, deluging the earth and drenching such grassas the winter had left, covering with its faded tussocks the sweep ofthe park lands. The sky was heavy with leaden clouds from which thewater fell in sweeping dashes. Having walked for some time, the twostopped before the wide bay window at the east end of the Long Galleryand watched the deluge for a space, marking how the drops splashed uponthe terrace, how the birds flew before it, and how the deer huddledtogether under the stripped trees as if glad of the small shelter theirtrunks and bare branches could afford. 

"Such a day brings back to a man the gloomiest things he knows, " saidLord Dunstanwolde after a few moments' silent gazing upon the scene. "Ino sooner paused here to look forth at the greyness than there cameback to me a hard tale I heard before I left Gloucestershire. 'Twasanother tale of Wildairs, Gerald. "

"Of Sir Jeoffry?" said Roxholm, with interest. It had happened thatsome time before Lord Dunstanwolde had heard of the impression madeupon him by the story of the poor lady and her brutal lord and master. More than once they had spoken together of Wildairs Hall, and those whorioted, and those who suffered, in it, and Roxholm had learned that, year by year the Gloucestershire baronet's living had grown wilder andmore dissolute, until his mad follies had cut him off from thecompanionship of all reputable persons, and he spent his days in brutalsports, drink, and rough entertainment with a dozen men as littlerespected as himself. His money he had squandered and gambled away atdice, his estate fell to greater ruin every year, and no heir had cometo him, his poor helpmeet having at length given him eight daughters, but two of whom had lived. His rage at this had increased even beyondits first fury as he realised that each new blunder of her ladyship wasa new jest for the county. So it was that the boy turned towards hiskinsman with interest, for in some manner the mishaps of this wretchedfamily always moved him. 

"Of Sir Jeoffry?" he said. 

"Of Sir Jeoffry, " my Lord Dunstanwolde answered; "but not so much ofhimself as of his poor lady. At last she is dead. "

"Dead!" Roxholm exclaimed. "Dead!" and his voice fell, and he stood amoment and watched the driving rain, full of strange thoughts. 

"'Tis happier for her, surely, " he said. "I--one cannot feel sorrow forher. How did she die, my lord?"

"As woefully and as neglected as she lived, " his lordship answered. "She had given birth to another female infant, and 'twas plain the poorthing knew her last hour had come. She was alone with the one ignorantwoman who was all she had to aid her in her hour of trial. The nightbefore Sir Jeoffry had held a drinking bout with a party of his booncompanions, and in the morning, when they were gathered noisily in thecourtyard to go forth hunting, the old woman appeared in their midst toacquaint her master of the infant's birth and to bring a message fromher mistress, who begged her lord to come to her before he rode forth, saying that she felt strangely ill, and wished greatly to see him. " Hislordship paused a moment, and a shadow passed swiftly across hiscountenance, brought there by a sad memory. 

Young Roxholm turned towards him and waited with a speaking look forhis next words. 

"Then--my lord--?" he broke forth inquiringly. Lord Dunstanwolde passedhis hand over his forehead. 

"He would not go, " he answered; "he would not go. He sent a ribaldmessage to the poor soul--cursing the child she had brought into theworld, and then he rode away. The servants say that the old woman hadleft her mistress alone in her chamber and came down to eat and drink. When she went back to her charge the fire had gone out--the room wascold as the grave, and the poor lady lay stone dead, her head fallenupon her wailing infant's body in such manner that, had not the childbeen stronger than most new-born things and fought for its life, itwould have been smothered in its first hour. "

The boy Marquess turned suddenly away and took several hurried steps upthe Long Gallery. When he returned his forehead was flushed, his eyessparkled with an inward fire, and his breath came quickly--but he foundno words to utter. 

"Once, " said Lord Dunstanwolde, slowly, "I saw a tender creature dieafter her travail--but she was beloved to worship, and our hearts stoodstill in our bosoms as we waited. Mine has truly never seemed to beatsince then. Her child--who might, perchance, have aided me to liveagain, and who would have been my hope and joy and pride, died withher. This poor thing, unwanted, hated, and cast aside to live ordie--as if it were the young of some wild creature of the woods--thisone, they say, has the strength of ten, and will survive. God havemercy on its evil fortunes. "

Young Roxholm stood with folded arms gazing straight before him againinto the driving rain. His brow was knit, and he was biting his boyishred lip. 

"Is there mercy?" he said in a low voice, at length. "Is there justice, since a human thing can be so cast into the world--and left alone?"

Lord Dunstanwolde put his hand upon his shoulder. 

"All of us ask, " he said. "None of us knows. "

_CHAPTER V_

_My Lord Marquess Plunges into the Thames_

A rich young nobleman at the University of Oxford, who, having all theresources of wealth and rank at his disposal, chose in these times todevote himself to scholarly pursuits, made in the minds of hisfellow-collegians a singular and eccentric figure; but that one, moresplendidly endowed by fortune than any other, should so comporthimself, and yet no man find it possible to deride or make coarse jokeson him, was, indeed, unheard of. 

Yet, when the young heir of the house of Osmonde entered theUniversity, this was the position he held and which none disputed. There were gay young rakes and ardent young toadies who, hearing of hiscoming among them, fell into anticipation: the first, of more splendidfrolics, the second, of richer harvests; and though each party wasdisappointed in its expectation, neither found opportunity to displayits chagrin according to the customary methods. 

It is, indeed, a strange thing, how a man's physical body may be hisfortress or his enemy. All the world has at times beheld those whom aninsignificant figure and an ill-modelled face handicapped with aseverity cruel to the utmost. A great man but five feet high, andawkward of bearing, has always added to his efforts at accomplishinggreat deeds the weight of an obstacle which he must first remove fromabout his neck--the obstacle his own poor exterior creates. An eloquentman whose voice is cracked and harsh by nature must be fire itselfbefore he can burn away the barrier between himself and his hearers; aprophet with an ignobly featured countenance and a small, vague eyemust needs be a god of wisdom to persuade his disciples that highnobleness can dwell in a temple so mean and poor. The physical body ofthe young Marquess of Roxholm was a fortress well-nigh impregnable. 'Tis not well to take liberties with a creature who takes none himself, and can strike a blow which would fell an ox, if need be. Besides this, there was in this young man's look and temper a something which, whileit forbade idle familiarities, won to itself the pleasurable admirationand affection of all beholders. His eye was full of fire and meaning, of laughter and friendliness; his mouth curved into the finest sweetsmile in the world, as also it could curl into a look of scorn whichcould scathe as finely. He had a keen wit, and could be ironic andbiting when he chose, but 'twas not his habit to use his powermalevolently. Even those who envied his great fortunes, and whosespite would have maligned him had he been of different nature, were ina measure restrained from their bitterness by a certain powerfulcomposure, which all felt who looked on him and heard him speak. 

'Twas this composure and commandingness of bearing which were moremarked in him than all else. 'Twas not mere coolness, but a great powerover himself and all his weaknesses, which years of self-study hadbegot in him, the truth being indeed that he himself had early realisedin a measure a thing one of the gravest instructors at the Universityhad once said: "Were all the strength of his great body and his fervidmind, all the power of his wealth and rank, all the influence of hisbeauty and passion turned to evil and dishonourable courses, instead ofto more noble things, good God! what a devil he might be--devil enoughto ruin half England. What weak woman could resist him; what viciousman help following where he led!"

"'Tis not so easy for a man who will be Duke one day to keep straightcourses, " Roxholm had once said to Mr. Fox, "as 'tis for a man who mustlive a narrower life and work for his daily bread. And a man who is sixfeet three in height has six feet and three inches of evil to do battlewith, if he has not six feet three of strength and honesty to fight forhim. 'Tis Gerald Mertoun I may live in dread of, if Gerald Mertoun isnot my help and stay. "

This he said half laughing, half sober, after his first visit to theFrench Court, which he made with his parents and saw many strangethough brilliant things, giving him cause for reflection. Tender as hisyears were at the time, he was so big and finely built a fellow for hisage, and so beautiful to look upon, that there were ladies who eventried their bright eyes upon him as if he had been a man instead of ayouth; and he encountered many youngsters of his years who had alreadydone much more than dally on the brink of life, some, indeed, havingplunged deep into waters not overclean. 

Some of these last regarded him at least as one who neglected hisopportunities, but his great laugh at their callow jests and theiradvice to him was so frank and indifferent a thing that they found itsingularly baffling. 'Twas indeed as if a man of ripe years and wisdomhad laughed at them with good-nature, because he knew they could notunderstand the thing experience had taught him. 

"Why should I be pleased because a beauty older than my mother laughsand teases me, " he said. "I am but a boy, and she knows it full well, and would only play with me to see if I am a fool who can be made atoy. I am too big, " stretching his great arms, "to sit at ladies' feetand have my curls stroked as if I were a lap-dog. A fellow such as Ishould be exercising his body and putting somewhat in his brain. Whyshould I overdrink and overfeed myself and give my strength to follies?'Tis not my taste. On my life, I would rather get up at daybreak with aclean tongue and a clear head and go out to leap and ride and fence andtoss the bar with well-strung muscles. Some day I shall meet a beautywhom I would be ready for. " And he laughed his big, musical, boyishlaugh again and his tawny eye sparkled. 

At the University there were temptations enough to lead youth to folly, even when it was not such youth as his, and therefore a shining mark. The seed Charles Stuart had sown had flourished and grown rank andstrong, so that the great seat of learning was rich with dissoluteyoung fools and madcaps and their hangers-on. But even the most foolishswaggerer of them could not call milksop a man who could outride, outleap, outfence, outhunt him; who could drive the four horses of hiscoach to London and back at such a pace and in such a manner as madepurple-faced old stage-coach drivers shake their heads with glee, andwho, in a wrestling-match, could break a man's back at a throw if hechose to be unmerciful. Besides this, he was popular for a score ofreasons, being no sanctimonious preacher of his doctrines, but asjoyous a liver as any among them and as open-handed and high of spirit. 

"'Tis not for me to say how other men should live, " was his simple andstraightforward creed. "I live as I like best and find best pays me. 'Tis for others to seek out and follow what best pays themselves. "

Many a story was told of him which his fellows liked, youth alwaysbeing elated by any deed of prowess and daring in youth. One of thesestories, which was indeed no great one, but picturesque and pretty, took their fancy greatly, and was much related and laughed gaily over, and indeed beloved. 

He was a strong and wondrous swimmer, having learned the art in hischildhood on the seacoast, being taught by his Grace his father. Whenat Oxford it was his custom to rise before the rest of the world, andin any weather or season plunge into the river and swim and dive andplay in the water like a young river god. He had chosen a favouriteswimming-spot and would undress under cover of the trees and then dashout to his pastime, and it so chanced that going there one hotafternoon he fell upon an adventure. 

A party of jolly personages of the middle class, who had come up fromtown on pleasure and rollicking interest, were taking a jaunt upon theriver in a wherry. 'Twas a wedding-party, and both males and females, having dined at a tavern, were well filled with ale and in the mood fordisporting themselves. The groom and his men friends, being infrolicsome humour and knowing nothing whatever of oarsmanship, wereplaying great pranks to make the women scream at their daring. Thebride, a pretty thing in cherry ribbands, clung to the boat's side inamaze at the heroic swagger of her new lord, but her cheeks, which hadmatched her ribbands, grew paler at each rock and dip of the boat, andher fear forced little shrieks from her. Her companions shrieked too, but laughingly and in such manner as but spurred the men to greaterfollies. The sport was at its highest and noisiest when they neared thespot all Oxford knew by this time by the name of "my Lord Marquess'sdiving hole. " At this point the river was broad and deep, and not farbelow it the water washed over a weir near which was a post bearing aboard marked "Danger!" To those who knew the waters and had some skillwith their oars there was no peril, but to a crew of drink-filledjunketers it was an ill-omened place. The wedding-party was too wildand young and rollicking to observe the sign-board. The men rocked theboat, shouted and sang, the women squealed and laughed and shouted withthem; the little bride burst forth weeping, shrieking wildly the nextmoment as the wherry was overset, and the whole party struggled in thewater, the hat, with its cherry-ribbands, floating on the top. 

Some distance above there were people walking. Shrieks filled the airand roused all within sight to running and shouting. Poor gasping, choking, deadly faced heads bobbed up a moment on the river's surfaceand went under struggling. 

"Help! Help!" shouted the running people. "God save them all! GoodLord! Good Lord!" And in the midst of it out sprang from among thetrees and bushes the great white body of a man, who dashed into thestream and swam like a dolphin. 

If he had been clothed the drowning creatures would have had somewhatto drag upon--if he had not been as strong as a giant and cool enoughto control them, the poor strangling fools would have so hampered himin their frenzy that they might have dragged him under water with them. But there was a power in him and a freedom from all sense of perilwhich dominated them all. 

"Keep your senses and you are safe, " he shouted, swimming and pushingthe overturned boat within reach of the men, who struggled together. 

His voice rang like a clarion and held in it such encouragement thatthe poor little bride, who came up gasping near him at that moment, almost took him for a god as he shot to her rescue. 

"Your hand on my shoulder; be brave, my girl--be brave, " he cried outwith such good cheer as would have put heart in any woman and aided herto gather her poor frightened wits and obey him like a child, whileeven in the midst of her terror, as her little red hands clung to him, she marked, half unconsciously the beauty and vigour of him--his strongwhite neck like a column, the great corded muscles of his white arms ashe clove the water through. 

He bore her to the shore and left her safe there, and plunged in again, crying to her, over his shoulder: "I will bring back the others!" Andshe stood dripping, gazing after him, sobbing and wringing her hands, but filled with wild admiration and amaze. 

He shouted orders to the sobered men to hold steady to the wherry anddived to bring back one woman after another to firm land; a boat foundin the osiers was put forth above, and in time all were brought toshore, though the bridegroom, who had not come near enough to thewherry, was dragged in looking like a dead man. 

The bride flung herself upon his body, shrieking and kissing him. Thepeople who had run up crowded about in senseless excitement and wouldhave kept all air away. But there was one among them who had his witsclear and ordered them off, plainly remembering not for a moment thathis brocades and laces lay hid among the trees, and he stood among themas Apollo stands in marble. 

"Bring brandy, " he commanded the nearest. "Stand back; strip hisclothes from him and empty the water from his stomach. Here, " to amatron who had come up panting, "take his wife away. "

The good woman he addressed dropped a hurried curtsey and hustled offthe woman under her wing. She led them into the sun and wrung the waterfrom their garments, while they sobbed and choked and wept. 

"Hush thee, wench!" she said to the stricken bride. "Hush thee, littlefool; my lord Marquess will put life into him and set him on his feetbefore thy petticoats are dry, Lord! Lord! what a young man! When builtHeaven such another? And he a Duke's son!"

"A Marquess!" cried one of the bride's friends. "A Duke's son!" sobbedthe bride. 

"Ay, a Duke's son!" the good woman cried, exulting further. "And werehe a King's, the nation might be proud of him. 'Tis his young lordshipthe Marquess of Roxholm. "

_CHAPTER VI_

"_No; She has not yet Come to Court_"

'Tis but a small adventure for a youth who is a strong swimmer to savea party of cits from drowning in a river, but 'twas a story muchrepeated, having a picturesqueness and colour because its chief figureNature had fitted out with all the appointments which might be expectedto adorn a hero. 

"'Tis a pretty story, too, " said a laughing great lady when 'twastalked of in town. "My lord Marquess dashing in and out of the river, bearing in his big white arms soused little citizen beauties and theirhalf-drowned sweethearts, and towering in their midst givingorders--like a tall young god in marble come to life. The handsomestMarquess in Great Britain, and in France likewise, they tell me. "

"The handsomest man, " quoth the old Dowager Lady Storms, who had acountry seat in Oxfordshire and knew more of the tale than any oneelse. "The handsomest man, say I, for it chanced that I drove by theriver at that moment and saw him. "

And then--freedom of speech being the fashion in those days and she anold woman--she painted such a picture of his fine looks, his broadshoulders, and the markings of his muscles under his polished skin, as, being repeated and spread abroad, as gossip will spread itself, fixedhim in the minds of admirers of manly beauty and built him a reputationin the world of fashion before he had entered it or even left hisbooks. 

When he did leave them and quitted the University, it was with honourto himself and family, and also with joy to his Governour and ChaplainMr. Fox, who had attended him. At his coming of age there werefeastings and bonfires in five villages again, and Rowe rang the bellsat Camylott Church with an exultant ardour which came near to being hisfinal end, and though seventy years of age, he would give up his postto no younger man, and actually blubbered aloud when 'twas delicatelysuggested that his middle-aged son should take his place to save himfatigue. 

"Nay! nay!" he cried; "I rang their Graces' wedding peal--I rang mylord Marquess into the world, and will give him up to none until I am adead man. "

At the Tower there was high feasting, the apartments being filled withguests from foreign Courts as well as from the English one, and as theyoung hero of the day moved among them, and among the tenantryrejoicing with waving flags and rural games in the park, as he dancedwith lovely ladies in the ball-room, and as he made his maiden speechto the people, who went wild with joy over him, all agreed that a noblehouse having such an heir need not fear for its future renown, howsoever glorious its history might have been in the past. 

After he had been presented at Court there seemed nothing this youngman might not have asked for with the prospect of getting--a place nearthe King, a regiment to lead to glory, the hand of the fairest beautyof the greatest fortune and rank. But it seemed that he wanted nothing, for he made no request for any favour which might have brought himplace or power or love. The great events at that time disturbing thenation he observed with an interest grave and thoughtful beyond hisyears. Men who were deep in the problems of statesmanship were amazedto discover the seriousness of his views and the amount of reflectionhe had given to public questions. Beauties who paraded themselvesbefore him to attract his heart and eye--even sweetly tender ones whoblushed when he approached them and sighed when he made his obeisanceand retired--all were treated with a like courtesy and grace of manner, but he gave none more reason to sigh and blush, to ogle and languish, than another, the honest truth being that he did not fall in love, despite his youth and the warmth of his nature, not having yet beheldthe beauty who could blot out all others for him and reign alone. 

"I will not play with love, " he said to his mother once as they talkedintimately to each other. "I have thought of it--that which should cometo a man and be himself, not a part of his being but the very life ofhim. If it comes not, a man must go unsatisfied to his grave. If itcomes--You know, " he said, and turned and kissed her hand impulsively, "It came to my father and to you. "

"Pray Heaven it may come to you, dear one, " she said; "you would knowbliss then. "

"Yes, " he answered, "I should know rapture that would make life Heaven. I do not know what it is I wait for--but when I see it in some woman'seyes I shall know, and so will she. "

His mother kissed his ringed hair, smiling softly. 

"Till then you wait and think of other things. "

"There are so many things for a man to do, " he said, "if he would notsit idle. But when that comes it will be first and greatest of all. "

At this period all the world talked of the wondrous and splendidChurchill, who, having fought brilliantly for the Stuarts and been madeby them first Lord Churchill of Eyemouth, and next Baron Churchill ofSandridge, having, after receiving these advancements, the coldastuteness to see the royal fortunes waver perilously, deserted Jamesthe Second with stately readiness and transferred his services toWilliam of Orange. He was rewarded with an earldom and such favour asmade him the most shining figure both at the Court of England and inthe foreign countries which had learned to regard his almostsupernatural powers with somewhat approaching awe. 

This man inspired Roxholm with a singular feeling; he in fact exercisedover him the fascination he exercised over so many others, but in thecase of the young Marquess, wonder and admiration were mixed with otheremotions. There were stories so brilliant to be heard of him on allsides, stories of other actions so marvellously ruthless and of thingsso wondrously mean. Upon a bargain so shameless he had built sowondrous a career--a faithfulness of service so magnificent he hadclosed with a treachery so base. All greatness and all littleness, allheroism and all crimes, seemed to combine themselves in this onestrange being. Having shamelessly sold his youth to a King's mistress, he devoted his splendid maturity to a tender, faithful passion for abeauteous virago, whose displeasure was the sole thing on earth whichmoved him to pain or fear. In truth 'twas not his genius, his bravery, his victories, which held Roxholm's thought upon him most constantly;'twas two other things, the first being the marvel of his control overhimself, the power with which he held in subjection his passions, hisemotions, almost, it seemed, his very thoughts themselves--the powerwith which he had trained John Churchill to be John Churchill'sservant--in peril, in temptation from any weakness to which he did notchoose to succumb, in circumstances which, arising without warning, might have caused another man to start, to falter, to change colour, but which he encountered with indomitable calm. 

"Tis that I wish to learn, " said the young nobleman in his secretthoughts as he watched him at Court, in the world outside it, amongsoldiers, statesmen, women, in the society of those greater thanhimself, of those smaller, of those he would win and of those he wouldrepel. "'Tis that I would learn: to be stronger than my very self, sothat naught can betray me--no passion I am tormented by, no anger Iwould conceal, no lure I would resist. 'Tis a man's self who oftenestentraps him. The traitor once subject, life lies at one's feet. "

The second thing which stirred the young observer's interest was thegreat man's great love. The most parsimonious and mercantile ofbeings, he had married a poor beauty when fair creatures with fortunessmiled upon him on every side; the most indomitable of spirits, thewarrior of whom armies stood in awe, he was the willing subject of awoman whose fiery temper and tempestuous spirit the world knew as wellas it knew her beauty and her dominating charm. For some reason hecould scarcely have analyzed, it gave Roxholm a strange pleasure tohear anecdotes of the passionate love-letters scrawled on the field--onthe eve of battle, the hour after a great encounter and triumph; toknow that better than victory to the great conquerer, who could commandthe slaughter of thousands without the quiver of a muscle or a moment'squalm, were the few lines in a woman's hand which told him he wasforgiven for some fancied wrong or missed in some tender hour. 

"My Lady Sarah is a handsome creature, and ever was one, " 'twas said, "but there are those who are greater beauties, and who have lessbrimstone in the air about them and less lightning in their eyes. "

"But 'twas she who was his own, " Roxholm said to himself in ponderingit over, "and when their eyes met each knew--and when she is fierce andtorments him 'tis as if the fire in his own blood spoke, as if his ownvoice reproached him--and he remembers their dear hours together, andforgives, and woos her back to him. If she were not his own--if he werenot hers, neither could endure it. They would strike each other dead. 'Tis sure nature makes one man for one woman, one woman for one man--asit was in the garden where our first parents loved. Few creatures findtheir mates, alas; but when they do 'tis Eden over again, in spite ofall things--and all else is mean and incomplete. 

He did not know that, as he had observed and been attracted by thehero, so the hero had been attracted by himself, though 'twas in alesser degree, since one man was cold and mature and the other youngand warm. 

My Lord Churchill had been the most beautiful youth of his time, distinguished for the elegance of his bearing and the perfection of hiscountenance and form. When, at fifteen, the services of his father inthe royal cause had procured for him the place of page in the householdof the Duke of York, he had borne away the palm from all others of hisage. When, at sixteen, his martial instincts had led to the Prince'sobtaining for him a commission in a regiment of the guards, his firstappearance in his scarlet and gold lace had produced such commotionamong the court beauties as promised to lead to results almostdisastrous, since he attracted attention in places too high to reachwith safety. But even then his ambitions were stronger than histemptations, and he fled the latter to go to fight the Moors. On hisreturn, more beautiful than ever, the lustre of success in arms addedto his ripened charms, the handsomest and wickedest woman in Englandcast her eyes upon him, and he became the rival of royalty itself. AllEngland knew the story of the founding of his later fortunes, but if hehimself blushed for it, none but John Churchill knew--outwardly he wasthe being whose name was the synonym for success, the lover of thebrilliant Castlemaine, the hero of the auxiliary force sent to Louis, the "handsome Englishman" of the siege of Nimeguen for whom Turennepredicted the greatest future a man could dream of. 

When Roxholm first had the honour of being presented to this gentleman'twas at a time when, after a brief period during which the hero'sfortunes had been under a cloud, the tide had turned for him and thesun of royal favour shone forth again. Perhaps during certain perilousdark days in the Tower, my Lord Marlborough had passed through hourswhich had caused him to look back upon the past with some regret anddoubting, and when among those who crowded about him when fortunesmiled once more--friends, sycophants, place-hunters, and newadmirers--he beheld a figure whose youth and physical gifts broughtback old memories to him, 'tis possible they awakened in him curiousreflections. 

"You, " he said to Roxholm one day at St. James, "begin the game withall the cards in your hand. "

"The game, my lord?" said the youthful Marquess, bowing. 

"The game of life, " returned the Earl of Marlborough (for so William ofOrange had made him nine years before), and his eagle eye rested on theyoung man with a keen, strange look. "You need not plan and strive forrank and fortune. You were born to them--to those things which will aida man to gain what he desires, if he is not a flippant idler and hasbrain enough to create ambitions for him. Most men must spend theiryouth in building the bridge which is to carry their dreams across tothe shore which is their goal. Your bridge was built before you wereborn. You left Oxford with high honours, they tell me; you are not longof age, you come of a heroic race--what do you think to do, my lord?"

Roxholm met his scrutinizing gaze with that steadiness which evermarked his own. He knew that he reddened a little, but he did not lookaway. 

"I am young to know, my Lord Marlborough, " he returned, "but I think tolive--to live. "

His Lordship slightly narrowed his eyes, and nodded his head. 

"Ay, " he said, "you will live!"

"There have been soldiers of our house, " said Roxholm. "I may fight ifneed be, perhaps, " bowing, "following your lordship to some greatertriumph, if I have that fortune. There may be services to the countryat home I may be deemed worthy to devote my powers to when I have livedlonger. But, " reddening and bowing again, "before men of achievementand renown, I am yet a boy. "

"England wants such boys, " complimented his lordship, gracefully. "ThePartition Treaty and the needs of the Great Alliance call for thebreeding of them. You will marry?"

"My house is an old one, " replied Roxholm, "and if I live I shall beits chief. "

My lord cast a glance about the apartment. It was a gala day and therewere many lovely creatures near, laughing, conversing, coquetting, bearing themselves with dignity, airiness, or sweet grace. There werebeauties who were brown, and beauties who were fair; there were gaycharmers and grave ones, those who were tall and commanding, and thosewho were small and nymph-like. 

"There is none here to match you, " he said with an imperturbablegravity ('twas plain he was not trifling, but thinking some seriousand unusual thoughts). "A man of your build has needs out of thecommon. No pretty, idle young thing will do. She should have beauty, and that which is more. 'Tis a strange kinship--marriage. No; she hasnot yet come to court. "

"I will wait until she does, " Roxholm answered, and his youthful facewas as grave as the hero's own, though if triflers had heard theirwords, they would have taken their talk for idle persiflage and jest. 

_CHAPTER VII_

"_'Tis Clo Wildairs, Man--All the County Knows the Vixen_. "

A month later he went to Warwickshire at my Lord Dunstanwolde'sinvitation. In that part of the county which borders uponGloucestershire was his Lordship's seat, which was known as Dunstan'sWolde. 'Twas an ancient and beautiful estate, and his Lordship spenthis quiet and secluded life upon it, much beloved by his tenantry, andrespected by his neighbours. Since his young wife's death his manner ofliving had become more secluded year after year; his library, hismemories, and the administration of his estates filled his days withquiet occupation. 

"Perhaps I am a selfish fellow to ask a young gentleman who is afavourite at Court to come and bury himself with me, " he said toRoxholm the night of his arrival, "but you and I have spent many a goodquiet hour together, Gerald, " laying an affectionate hand upon hisbroad shoulder. "And if you were my son you would come, I know. "

"Think of me as your son, " said Roxholm with his fine smile. "A man isthe richer for the love of two fathers. "

"Oxford has not changed you, Roxholm, " said the Earl. "Nor have theCourt ladies' flatteries spoiled your kindly manners. We shall be happytogether, for awhile at least. "

They were indeed happy, spending their days much as they had spent themat Camylott--riding together, taking long sauntering walks, reading oldbooks and new ones, and in these days conversing on maturer subjects. There was indeed much to talk of at this closing of a reign which hadbeen full of struggles with problems affecting not only England but allthe European powers. What the Peace of Ryswick had effected, what thedeath of Charles of Spain would bring, whether Louis would play fairly, how long King William's broken frame would last, what the power of theMarlboroughs would be when the Princess Anne came to the throne--allthese things they discussed together, and in their arguments my LordDunstanwolde was often roused to the wonder other ripe minds had feltin coming in contact with the activity and daring of this younger one. 

"'Tis not possible to hide a handsome young nobleman under a bushel, "the Earl said after but a few days had passed. "The neighbours willhave you to dine, and dance, and hunt with them, whether it is yourwill or not. A strapping young fellow must do his duty by the world. "

Roxholm performed his duty with propriety and spirit when it was not tobe evaded gracefully. He dined with country gentlemen, and listened totheir songs and stories until most of them drank themselves under thetable, as was the spirited fashion of the time. He answered thequestionings of their wives on subjects pertaining to Court fashionsand behaviour and, --perhaps somewhat gravely, --danced attendance on thedaughters, who most of them, it is true, were used to less courtlymanners and voted him in private far too grave and majestic for such abeauty. 

"He hath a way of bowing that would give one a fright, were his eyesnot so handsome and his smile so sweet, " said one lovely ardent hoyden. "Lord! just to watch him standing near with that noble grave look onhis face, and not giving one a thought, makes one's heart go pit-a-pat. A man hath no right to be such a beauty--and to be so, and to be aDuke's son, too, is a burning shame. 'Tis wicked that one man shouldhave so much to give to one woman. "

'Twas but a week before Roxholm left his kinsman's house, that theyspent a day together hunting with a noted pack over the borders ofGloucestershire. The sport was in a neighbourhood where the gentry werehunting-mad, and chased foxes as many days of the week as fortune andweather favoured them. 

"'Tis a rough country, " said my Lord Dunstanwolde, as they rode forth, "and some of those who hunt are wild livers and no credit to theirrank, but there is fine old blood among them, and some of the hardestriders and boldest leapers England knows. " Suddenly he seemed toremember something and turned with an exclamation. "Upon my soul!" hesaid, "till this moment I had forgot. I am too sober an old fogy tohunt with them when I have no young blood near to spur me. Sir JeoffryWildairs will be with them--if he has not yet broke his neck. "

The country they hunted over proved indeed rough, and the sportexciting. Roxholm had never seen wilder riding and more daring leaps, and it had also happened that he had not yet gone a-hunting with soboisterous and rollicking a body of gentlemen. Their knowledge of dogs, foxes, and horseflesh was plainly absolute, but they had no Courtmanners, being of that clan of country gentry of which London saw butlittle. Nearly all the sportsmen were big men and fine ones, withdare-devil bearing, loud voices, and a tendency to loose and profanelanguage. They roared friendly oaths at each other, had brandy flaskson their persons on which they pulled freely, and, their spirits beingheightened thereby, exchanged jokes and allusions not too seemly. 

Before the fox was found, Roxholm had marked this and observed alsothat half a dozen more of the best mounted men were the roughest on thefield, being no young scapegraces and frolickers, but men past forty, who wore the aspect of reprobate livers and hard drinkers, and who wereplainly boon companions and more intimate with each other than withthose not of their party. 

They seemed to form a band of themselves, which those not of it had anair of avoiding, and 'twas to be seen that their company was looked ataskance, and that in the bearing of each member of the group there wasa defiance of the general opinion. Roxholm sat on his horse somewhatapart from this group watching it, his kinsman and a certain LordTwemlow, who was their host for the day, conversing near him. 

My Lord Twemlow, who took no note of them, but by the involuntarycasting on them of an occasional glance, when some wild outburstattracted his attention, wore a grave and almost affronted look. 

"'Tis the Wildairs cronies, " Roxholm heard him say to his Lordship ofDunstanwolde. "I hunt but seldom, purely through disgust of theirunseemliness. "

"Wildairs!" exclaimed my Lord Dunstanwolde. 

"Ay, " answered Twemlow, turning his horse slightly and averting hiseyes; "and there cometh my reputable kinsman, Sir Jeoffry, even as wespeak. "

Roxholm turned to look with some stir of feeling in his breast, sincethis was the man who had so early roused in him an emotion of anger andrebellion. Across the field came pounding a great black horse, a finebig-boned brute; on him rode a tall, heavy man who must once have beenof the handsomest, since even yet, in spite of years, bloated face, andcareless attire, he retained a sort of dissolute beauty. He was of hugeframe and had black eyes, a red mouth, and wore his own thick andcurling though grizzled black hair. 

He rode with a dare-devil grace, and his cronies greeted him with ashout. 

"He has the look of it, " thought Roxholm, remembering the old stories;but the next instant he gave a start. Across the field beyond, anotherrider followed galloping, and at this moment came over the high hedgelike a swallow, and, making the leap, gave forth a laughing shout. Roxholm sat and stared at the creature. 'Twas indeed a youthful figure, brilliant and curious to behold in this field of slovenly cladsportsmen. 'Twas a boy of twelve or thereabouts riding a splendid youngdevil of a hunter, with a skin like black satin and a lovely, dangerouseye. The lad was in scarlet, and no youngster of the Court was morefinely clad or fitted, and not one had Roxholm ever set eyes upon whoseyouthful body and limbs were as splendid in line and symmetry; intruth, the beauty and fire of him were things to make a man lose hisbreath. He rode as if he had been born upon his horse's back and hadnever sat elsewhere from his first hour, his flowing-black hair wasalmost too rich and long for a boy, he had a haughty mouth for a child, though it was a crimson bow and pouting, his complexion matched it, andhis black eyes, which were extraordinary big and flashing, had thedevil in them. 

"_Pardi!_" the young Marquess cried between his teeth. "What does sucha young one in such company?" Never had he beheld a thing which movedhim with such strange suddenness of emotion. He could not haveexplained the reason of his feeling, which was an actual excitement, and caused him to turn in his saddle to watch the boy's every movementas he galloped forward to join the reprobate group. 

As they had greeted Sir Jeoffry with a shout of welcome, so theygreeted the young newcomer, but in his reception there was moreenthusiasm and laughter, as if there were some special cause for gayetyin the mere sight of him. 

When he drew up in their midst their voices broke forth into a tumultof noisy, frolicsome greeting, to which the lad gave back impudent, laughing answer. In a moment's time he was the centre figure ofinterest among them, and seemed to dominate them all as if he had beensome young potentate instead of a mere handsome lad of twelve. 

"If they were a band of barbarians and he their boy chief they couldpay him no more court nor joy in him more, " Roxholm reflected. "Is ithis beauty or--what means it?"

He could not withdraw his eyes from the boy, who sat his frettinghunter among them, sometimes scarcely able to restrain the animal'sfiery temper or keep him from lashing out his heels orbiting at thebeasts nearest to him. Now he trotted from one man to the other as thegroup scattered somewhat; now he sat half turned back, his hand on hissteed's hind quarters, flinging words and laughter to the outside man. 

"Thou'lt have to use scissors again on thy periwig, ecod!" one mancried, banteringly. 

"Damme, yes, " the youngster rapped out, and he caught a rich lock ofhis hair and drew it forward to look at it, frowning. "What's a man todo when his hair grows like a girl's?"

The answer was greeted with a shout of laughter, and the boy burstforth with a laugh likewise, showing two rows of ivory teeth. Somehowthere was an imperial deviltry about him, an impudent wild spirit whichhad plainly made him conqueror, favourite, and plaything of the wholedisreputable crew. 

Men were not fastidious talkers in those times; the cleanest mouthed ofthem giving themselves plenty of license when they were in spirits. Roxholm had heard broad talk enough at the University, where the younggentlemen indulged in conversation no more restrained than was that oftheir elders and betters; he had heard the jokes and profanity of bothcamp and Court since he had left Oxford, and had learned thatsqueamishness was far from being the fashion. But never had he heardsuch oath-sprinkled talk or such open obscenity of joking as fell uponhis ears this morning in but a brief space. Hearing it in spite ofhimself, his blood grew hot and his horse began to paw the earth, he, in his irritation, having unknowingly fretted its mouth. And then oneof the company, an elderly sportsman with a watery eye, began a story. 

"Good God!" Roxholm broke forth to the man nearest to him, one not ofthe party, but evidently one who found it diverting; "good God! Canthey not restrain themselves before a child? Let them be decent for hismere youth's sake! The lad is not thirteen. "

The man started and stared at him a moment with open mouth, and thenburst into a loud guffaw of laughter. 

"The lad!" he cried, roaring and slapping his thigh in his mirth. "'Tisno lad. Didst take it for one? Lord! 'tis Jeoff Wildair's youngestwench. 'Tis Clo--'tis Clo, man. All the county knows the vixen!"

And at that very instant the hounds sprang forth, giving tongue, andthe field sprang forward with them, and all was wild excitement: criesof "Tally ho!" ringing, horses plunging, red coats seeming to flythrough the air; and my lord Marquess went with the field, his cheekhot, his heart suddenly thumping in his breast with a sense of he knewnot what, as his eye, following a slender, scarlet-coated figure, sawit lift its horse for a huge leap over a five-barred gate, take it likea bird, and lead the whole scurrying, galloping multitude. 

"Yes, " said my Lord Dunstanwolde, as they rode homeward slowly in theevening gray, "'tis the girl infant who was found struggling andshrieking beneath the dead body of her mother, and till to-day I neversaw her. Good Heavens! the beauty of the creature--the childishdeviltry and fire!"

Each turned and looked into the eyes of the other with a question inhis thought, and each man's was the same, though one had lived beyondsixty years and one but twenty-four. A female creature of such beauty, of such temper, bred in such manner, among such companions, by suchparents--what fate could be before her? Roxholm averted his eyes. 

"Tossed to the wolves, " he said; "tossed to the pack--to harry and toslaver over! God's mercy!"

As they rode he heard the story, Lord Twemlow having related suchincidents as he naturally knew to my Lord Dunstanwolde. 'Twas a bitterhistory to Twemlow, whose kinsman the late Lady Wildairs had been, andwho was a discreetly sober and God-fearing gentleman, to whom irregularhabits and the reckless squandering of fortune were loathly things. Andthis was the substance of the relation, which was so far out of thecommon as to be almost monstrous: His disgust at the birth of thisninth girl infant had so inflamed Sir Jeoffry that he had refused evento behold it and had left it to its fate as if it had been an ill-made, blind puppy. But two of her Ladyship's other children had survivedtheir infancy, and of these two their father knew nothing whatever butthat they had been called Barbara and Anne, that they showed no promiseof beauty, and lived their bare little lives in the Hall's otherwisedeserted west wing, having as their sole companion and instructress acertain Mistress Margery Wimpole--a timorous poor relation, who hadtaken the position in the wretched household to save herself fromstarvation, and because she was fitted for no other; her educationbeing so poor and her understanding so limited, that no reputable orcareful family would have accepted her as governess or companion. Hertwo poor little charges learned the few things she could teach them, and their meek spiritedness gave her but little trouble. Their deadmother's suffering and their father's rough contempt on the rareoccasions when he had chanced to behold them had chastened them tohumbleness from their babyhood. There was none who wanted them, nonewho served or noticed them, and there was no circumstance which couldnot restrain them, no person who was not their ruler if 'twas his will. 

"But the ninth one was not like them, " said my Lord. "The blood of thefierce devils who were the chiefs of her house centuries ago woke inher veins at her birth. 'Tis strange indeed, Gerald, how such thingsbreak forth--or slumber--in a race. Should you trace Wildairs, as youtrace Mertoun through the past, her nature would be made clear enough. They have been splendid devils, some of them--devils who fought, shrieking with ferocious laughter in the face of certain horribledeath; devils whose spirit no torture of rack or flame could conquer;beings who could endure in silence horrors almost supernatural; whocould bear more, revel more, suffer more, defy more than any otherhuman thing. "

"And this child is one of them!" said Roxholm. 

He said but little as they rode onward and he listened. There waswithin him a certain distaste for what seemed to him the unnaturaltumult of his feelings. A girl child of twelve rollicking in boys'clothes was not a pleasing picture, but in one sense a tragic one, andcertainly not such as should set a man's heart beating and his cheek toflame when he heard stories of her fantastic life and character. Onthis occasion he did not understand himself; if he had been asanctimonious youngster he would have reproved his own seeming levity, but he was not so, and frankly felt himself restless and ill at ease. 

The name given to her had been Clorinda, and from her babyhood she hadbeen as tempestuous as her sisters were mild. None could manage her. Her baby training left wholly to neglected and loose-living servants, she had spent her first years in kitchens, garrets, and stables. Thestables and the stable-boys, the kennels and their keepers, were lovedbetter than aught else. She learned to lisp the language of grooms' andhelpers, she cursed and swore as they did, she heard their songs andstories, and was as familiar with profanity and obscene language asother children are with nursery rhymes. Until she was five years oldSir Jeoffry never set eyes upon her. Then a strange chance threw her inhis way and sealed her fate. 

Straying through the house, having escaped from her woman, the childhad reached the big hall, and sate upon the floor playing with apowder-flask she had found. 'Twas Sir Jeoffry's, and he, coming uponher, not knowing her for his own offspring (not that such a knowledgewould have calmed his passion), he sprang upon her with curses andsoundly trounced her. Either of her sisters Anne or Barbara would havebeen convulsed with terror, but this one was only roused to a fury asmuch greater for her size than Sir Jeoffry was bigger than herself. Sheflew at him and poured forth oaths, she shrieked at him and beat hislegs with his own crop, which she caught up from the floor where it laywithin reach, she tore at him with tooth and nail, and with suchstrength and infant fearlessness as arrested him in his frenzy andcaused him to burst forth laughing as if he had gone mad. 

"From that hour she was a doomed creature, " my Lord ended. "What elsecan a man call the poor beauteous, helpless thing. She is his companionand playmate, and the toy and jest of his comrades. It is the scandalof the county. At twelve she is as near a woman as other girls offourteen. At fifteen--!" and he stopped speaking. 

"'Twould have been safer for her to have died beneath her dead mother'sbody, " said Roxholm, almost fiercely. 

"Yes, safer!" said his Lordship. "Yet what a woman!--What awoman!"--and here he broke off speech again. 

_CHAPTER VIII_

_In which my Lady Betty Tantillion writes of a Scandal_

Scarce two years later, King William riding in the park at HamptonCourt was thrown from his horse--the animal stumbling over amole-hill--and his collar-bone broken. A mole-hill seems but a smallheap of earth to send a King to moulder beneath a heap of earthhimself, but the fall proved fatal to a system which had long beenweakening, and a few days later his Majesty died, commending my LordMarlborough to the Princess Anne as the guide and counsellor on whosewisdom and power she might most safely rely. Three days after theaccession his Lordship was made Captain-General of the English army, and intrusted with power over all warlike matters both at home andabroad. 'Twas a moment of tremendous import--the Alliance shaken byKing William's death, Holland panic-stricken lest England shouldwithdraw her protection, King Louis boasting that "henceforth therewere no Pyrenees, " Whigs and Tories uncertain whether or not to sheathweapons in England, small sovereigns and great ones ready to spring ateach other's throats on the Continent. Boldness was demanded, and suchexecutive ability as only a brilliantly daring mind could supply. Without hesitation all power was given into the hands of the man whoseemed able to command the Fates themselves. My Lord Marlborough couldsoothe the fretted vanity of a petty German Prince, he could confrontwith composure the stupid rancour of those who could not comprehendhim, in the most wooden of heavy Dutchmen he could awaken a slowunderstanding, the most testy royal temper he knew how to appease, and, through all, wear an air of dignity and grace, sometimes even ofsweetness. 

"What matter the means if a man gains his end, " he said. "He can affordto appear worsted and poor spirited, if through all he sees that whichhe aims at placing itself within his reach. "

"The King of Prussia, " said Dunstanwolde as they talked of the heroonce, "has given more trouble than any of the allies. He is ever readyto contest a point, or to imagine some slight to his dignity and rank. It has been almost impossible to manage him. How think you my LordMarlborough won him over? By doing that which no other man--diplomat orsoldier--would have had the wit to see the implied flattery of, or thecomposure to perform without loss of dignity. At a state banquet histesty Majesty dropped his napkin and required another. No attendantwas immediately at hand. My Lord Marlborough--the most talked of man inEurope, and some say, at this juncture, as powerful as half a dozenKings--rose and handed his Majesty the piece of linen as simply as ifit were but becoming that he should serve as lackey a royalty soimportant--and with such repose of natural dignity that 'twas he whoseemed majestic, and not the man he waited on. Since then all goes withcomparative smoothness. If a Queen's favoured counsellor and greatestgeneral so serves him, the little potentate feels his importanceproperly valued. "

"But if one who knows his Lordship had looked straight in his eyes, "said Roxholm, "he could have seen the irony within them--held like aspark of light. I have seen it. "

When my Lord Marlborough went to the Hague to take command of the Dutchand English forces, and to draw the German power within theconfederacy, he took with him more than one young officer notable forhis rank and brilliant place in the world, it having become at thisperiod the fashion to go to the wars in the hope that a youngMarlborough might lurk beneath any smart brocade and pair of fineshoulders. Among others, his Lordship was attended on his triumphal wayby the already much remarked young Marquess of Roxholm, and it wasrealized that this fortunate young man went not quite as others did, but as one on whom the chief had fixed his attention, and for whom hehad a liking. 

In truth, he had marked in him certain powers and qualities, which wereboth agreeable to his tastes and promised usefulness. He had notemployed his own powers and charms, physical and mental, from hisfifteenth year upward, without having learned the actual weight andmeasure of their potency, as a man knows the weight and size of a thinghe can put into scales and measure with a yardstick. He remembered wellhours, when the fact that he was of a beauteous shape and height, andgazed at others with a superb appealing eye, had made that differencewhich lies between failure and success; he had never forgot one of theoccasions upon which the power of keeping silence under provocation ortemptation, the ability to control each feature and compel it to calmsweetness, had served him as well as a regiment of soldiers might haveserved him. Each such experience he had retained mentally for futurereference. Roxholm possessed this power to restrain himself, and tokeep silent, reflecting, and judging meanwhile, and was taller than he, of greater grace, and unconscious state of bearing; his beauty ofcountenance had but increased as he grew to manhood. 

"I was the handsomest lad at Court in the year '65, " his Grace ofMarlborough said once (he had been made Duke by this time). "The yearyou were born I was the handsomest man in the army, they used tosay--but I was no such beauty and giant as you, Marquess. The gods were_en veine_ when they planned you. "

"When I was younger, " said Roxholm, "it angered me to hear my lookspraised so much; I was boy enough to feel I must be unmanly. Butnow--'tis but as it should be, that a man should have straight limbsand a great body, and a clean-cut countenance. It should be nature--nota thing to be remarked; it should be mere nature--and the other anunnatural thing. 'Tis cruel that either man or woman should be weak oruncomely. All should be as perfect parts of the great universe as arethe mountains and the sun. "

"'Tis not so yet, " remarked my Lord Marlborough, with his inscrutablesmile. "'Tis not so yet. "

"Not yet, " said Roxholm. "But let each creature live to make it so--menthat they may be clean and joyous and strong; women that they may bemates for them. They should be as strong as we, and have as greatcourage. "

His Lordship smiled again. They were at the Hague at this time and inhis quarters, where he was pleased occasionally to receive the youngofficer with a gracious familiarity. For reasons of his own, he wishedto know him well and understand the strengths and weaknesses of hischaracter. Therefore he led him into talk, and was pleased to find thathe frequently said things worth hearing, though they were often new andsomewhat daring things to be said by one of his age at this period, when 'twas not the custom for a man to think for himself, but either tofollow the licentious follies of his fellows or accept without questionsuch statements as his Chaplain made concerning a somewhat unreasoningDeity, His inflexible laws, and man's duty towards Him. That a handsomeyouth, for example, should, in a serious voice and with a thoughtfulface, announce that beauty should be but nature, and ugliness regardedas a disease, instead of humbly submitted to as the will of God, was, indeed, a startling heresy and might have been regarded as impious, even though so gravely said. Therefore it was my Lord Marlboroughsmiled. 

"I spoke to you of marriage once before, " he remarked. "You bring itback to me. Do you care for women?" bluntly. 

Roxholm met his eye with his own straight, cool gaze. 

"Yes, my Lord, " he answered with some grimness, and said no more. 

"The one you wait for has not yet come to Court, as I said that day, "his Grace went on, and now he was grave again, and had even falleninto a speculative tone. "But it struck me once that I heard ofher--though she is no fit companion for you yet--and Heaven knows ifshe ever will be. The path before her is too full of traps for safety. "

Roxholm did not speak. Whether fond of women or not, he was not givento talking of them, and a certain reserve would have prevented hisentering upon any discussion of the future Lady Roxholm, whomsoever shemight in the future prove to be. He stood in an easy attitude, watchingwith some vague curiosity the expression of his chief's countenance. But suddenly he found himself checking a slight start, and this wasoccasioned by his Lordship's next words. 

"In the future I shall take pains to hear what befalls her, " the Dukesaid. "In two or three years' time we shall hear somewhat. She willmarry a duke--be a King's mistress, or go to ruin in some less splendidand more tragic way. No woman is born into the world with such beautyas they say is hers, and such wild fire in her veins, without settingthe world--or herself--in flames. A new Helen of Troy she may be, andyet she is but the ninth daughter of a drunken Gloucestershirebaronet. "

'Twas here that Roxholm found himself checking his start, but he hadnot checked it soon enough to escape the observance of the quickestsighted man in Europe. 

"What!" he said, "you have heard of her?"

"I have seen her, your Grace, " Roxholm answered, "on the hunting fieldin Gloucestershire. "

"Is she so splendid a young creature as they say? Was she in boy'sattire, as we hear her rascal father lets her ride with him?"

"I thought her a boy, and had never seen one like her, " said Roxholm, and he was amazed to feel himself disturbed as if he spoke not of achild, but of a beauty of ripe years. 

"Is she of such height and strength and wondrous development as rumourtells us?" his Grace continued, still observing him as if withinterest. "At twelve years old, 'tis told, she is tall enough foreighteen, and can fence and leap hedges and break horses, and that sheplays the tyrant over men four times her age. "

"I saw her but once, your Grace, " replied Roxholm. "She was tall andstrong and handsome. "

"Go and see her again, my lord Marquess, " said the Captain-General, turning to his papers. "But do not wait too long. Such beauties must becaught early. "

When he went back to his quarters, my lord Marquess strolled throughthe quaint streets of the town slowly, and looking upon the ground ashe walked. For some reason he felt vaguely depressed, and, searchingwithin himself for a reason, recognised that the slight cloud restingupon his spirits recalled to him a feeling of his early childhood--noother than the sense of restless unhappiness he had felt years ago whenhe had first overheard the story of the wretched Lady of Wildairs andher neglected children. 

"Yes, " he said, "'tis almost the same feeling, though then I was achild, and now I am a man. When I saw the girl at the hunt, and rodehome afterwards with Dunstanwolde, listening to her story, there wasgloom in the air. There is that in it to make a man's spirit heavy. Imust not think of her. "

But Fate herself was against him. For one thing, my Lord Marlboroughhad brought back to him, with a few words, with strange vividness thepicture of the brilliant young figure in its hunting scarlet, itsgallop across the field with head held high, its flying leap over thehedge, and the gay insolence and music of its laugh. 

"A child could not have made a man so remember her, " he said, impatiently. "She was half woman then--half lovely, youthful devil. There is an ill savour about it all. "

When he entered his rooms he found guests waiting him. Apleasure-loving young ensign, whom he had known at Oxford, and two ofthe lad's cronies. They were a trio of young scapegraces, delightedwith any prospect of adventure, and regarding their martial dutieschiefly as opportunities to shine in laced coats and cocked hats, andswagger with a warlike air and a military ogle when they passed apretty woman in the street. It was the pretty woman these young Englishsoldiers had come to do battle with, and hoped to take captive withflying colours and flourish of trumpets. 

They were in the midst of great laughter when Roxholm entered, andyoung Tantillion, the ensign, sprang up to meet him in the midst of agay roar. The lad had been one of his worshippers at the University, and loved him fondly, coming to him with all sorts of confidences, topour forth his love difficulties, to grumble at his military dutieswhen they interfered with his pleasures, to borrow money from him topay his gaming debts. 

"He has been with my Lord Marlborough, " he cried; "I know he has by hissober countenance! We are ready to cheer thee up, Roxholm, with thejolliest story. 'Tis of the new beauty, who is but twelve years old andhas set half the world talking. "

"Mistress Clorinda Wildairs of Wildairs Hall in Gloucestershire, " putin Bob Langford, one of the cronies, a black-eyed lad of twenty. "Perhaps your Lordship has heard of her, since she is so much gossipedof--Mistress Clorinda Wildairs, who has been brought up half boy by herfather and his cronies, and is already the strappingest beauty inEngland. "

"He is too great a gentleman to have heard of such an ill-manneredyoung hoyden, " said Tantillion, "but we will tell him. 'Twas my sisterBetty's letter--writ from Warwickshire--set us on, " and he pulled fortha scrawled girlish-looking epistle from his pocket and spread it on thetable. "Shalt hear it, Roxholm? Bet is a minx, and 'tis plain she isgreen with jealousy of the other girl--but 'tis the best joke I haveheard for many a day. "

And forthwith Roxholm must sit down and hear the letter read and listento their comments thereupon, and their shouts of boyish laughter. 

Little Lady Betty Tantillion, who was an embryo coquette of thirteen, had been to visit her relations in Warwickshire, and during her stayamong them had found the chief topic of conversation a certain madcreature over the borders of Gloucestershire--a Mistress ClorindaWildairs, who was the scandal of the county, and plainly the delight ofall the tongue-waggers. 

"And oh, Tom, she is a grate thing, almost as tall as a woman thoughshe is but twelve years of age, " wrote her young Ladyship, whosespelling, by the way, was by no means as correct as her sense of theproprieties. "Her father, Sir Jeoffry, allows her to ride in boys'clothes, which is indecent for a young lady even at her time of life. Brother Tom, how would you like to see your sister Betty astride ahunter, in breeches? Lady Maddon (she is the slender, graceful buty whois called the 'Willow Wand' by the gentlemen who are her servants)--shesaith that this girl is a coarse thing and has so little modisty thatshe is proud to show her legs, thinking men will admire them, but sheis mistaken, for gentlemen like a modist woman who is slight anddelicate. She (Mistress Clo--as they call her) has big, bold, blackeyes and holds her chin in the air and her mouth looks as red as if'twere painted every hour. Every genteel woman speaks ill of her and isashamed of her bold ways. And she is not even handsome, Tom, for alltheir talk, for I have seen her myself and _think nothing of herlooks_. Her breeding is said to be shameful and her langwidge adisgrace to her secks. The gentlemen are always telling tales of herways, and they laugh and make such a noise when they talk about herover their wine. At our Aunt Flixton's one day, my cousin Gill and mestood behind a tree to hear what was being said by some men who weretelling stories of her (which was no wrong because we wished to learn alesson so that we might not behave like her). Some of their words wedid not understand, but some we did and 'twas of a Chaplain (theycalled him a fat-chopped hipercrit) who went to counsel her to behayvemore decent, and she no doubt was impudent and tried to pleas him, forhe forgot his cloth and put his arms sudden about her and kist her. Andthe men roared shameful, for the one who told it said she knocked himdown on his knees and held him there with one hand on his shoulderwhile she boxed his face from side to side till his nose bled instreams, and cried she (Oh, Tom!) 'Damn thy fat head, ' each time shestruck him 'if that is thy way to convert women, this is my way toconvert men. ' And he could scarce crawl away weeping, his blood andtears streeming down his face, which shows she hath not a reverenceeven for the cloth itself. Dere brother Thomas, if you should meet herin England when you come back from the wars, and she is a woman, I dopray you will not be like the other gentlemen and be so silly as topraise her, for such creatures should not be encorragd. "

Throughout the reading of the letter uproarious shouts of laughter hadburst forth at almost every sentence, and when he had finished theepistle, little Tantillion fell forward, his face on his arms on thetable, his mirth almost choking him, while the others leaned back androared. 'Twas only Roxholm who was not overcome, the story not seemingso comical to him as to the others, and yet there were points at whichhe himself could not help but laugh. 

"'Damn thy fat head, '" shrieked Tom Tantillion, "'If that is thy way toconvert women, this is mine to convert men. ' Oh, Lord! I think I seethe parson!"

"With his fat, slapped face and his streaming eyes and bloody nose!"shouted Langford. 

"Serve him damn right!" said Tantillion, sobering and wiping his owneyes. "To put their heads into such hornets' nests would make a lot ofthem behave more decent. " And then he picked up the letter again andmade brotherly comments upon it. 

"'Tis just like a minx of a girl to think a man cannot see through herspite, " he said. "Bet is dying to be a woman and have the fellowsogling her. She is a pretty chit and will be the languishing kind, likethe die-away Maddon who is so 'modist. ' She is thin enough to be made'modist' by it. No breeches for her, but farthingales and 'modestypieces' high enough to graze her chin. 'Some of their words we did notunderstand'"--reading from the letter, and he looked at the companywith a large comprehensive wink. "'Her breeding is disgraceful and herlangwidge a disgrace to her secks'--Well, I'll be hanged if she isn't agirl after a man's own heart, if she's handsome enough to dress like alad, and has the spirit to ride and leap like one--and can slap aChaplain's face for him when he plays the impudent goat. Aren't you ofmy opinion, Roxholm, for all you don't laugh as loud as the rest of us?Aren't you of my mind?"

"Yes, " said Roxholm, who for a few moments had been gazing at the wallwith a somewhat fierce expression. 

"Hello!" exclaimed Tantillion, not knowing the meaning of it. "What areyou thinking of?"

Roxholm recovered himself, but his smile was rather a grim one. 

"I think of the Chaplain, " he said, "and how I should like to havedealt with him myself--after young Mistress Wildairs let him go. "

_CHAPTER IX_

_Sir John Oxon Lays a Wager at Cribb's Coffee House_. 

This is to be no story of wars and battles, of victories and historicevents, such great engines being but touched upon respectfully, astheir times and results formed part of the atmosphere of the life of agentleman of rank who moved in the world affected by them, and amongsuch personages as were most involved in the stirring incidents oftheir day. That which is to be told is but the story of a man's lifeand the love which was the greatest power in it--the thing whichbrought to him the fiercest struggles, the keenest torture, and themost perfect joy. 

During the next two years Gerald Mertoun saw some pretty service andmuch change of scene, making the "grand tour, " as it were, undercircumstances more exciting and of more moment to the world at largethan is usually the case when a gentleman makes it. He so acquittedhimself on several occasions that England heard of him and prophesiedthat if my Lord Marlborough's head were taken off in action there was ayounger hero who might fill his place. At the news of each battle, whether it ended in victory or not, old Rowe rang the bells atCamylott, rejoicing that even if the enemy was not routed with greatslaughter, my lord Marquess was still alive to fight another day. AtBlenheim he so bore himself that the Duke talked long and gravely withhim in private, laying before him all the triumphs a career of armswould bring to him. 

"Twenty years hence, Roxholm, " he said, watching him with his keenglance as he ever did, "you might take my place, had England suchquestions to settle as she has to-day. In twenty years I shall beseventy-four. You were hammered from the metal nature cast me in, andyou could take any man's place if 'twas your will. I could have takenany man's place I had chosen to take, by God, and so can you. If aman's brain and body are built in a certain way he can be soldier, bishop, physician, financier, statesman, King; and he will have likepower in whatsoever he chooses to be, or Fate chooses that he shall be. As statesman, King, or soldier, the world will think him greatestbecause such things glitter in the eye and make more sound; but thestrong man will be strong if Fortune makes him a huckster, and none canhide him. If Louis XV is as great a schemer as the fourteenth Louis hasbeen, you may lead armies if you choose; but you will not choose, Ithink. You do not love it, Roxholm--you do not love it. "

"No, " answered Roxholm; "I do not love it. I can fight--any man canfight who has not white blood--and ours has been a fighting house; butmowing men down by thousands, cutting their throats, burning towns, anddesolating villages filled with maddened men and shrieking women andchildren, does not set my blood in a flame as it does the blood of aman who is born for victorious slaughter. I loathe so the slaughterthat I hate the victory. No; there are other things I can do better forEngland, and be happier in doing them. "

"I have known that, " said the Captain-General, "even when I have seenyou sweep by, followed by your men, at your most splendid moment. Ihave known it most when we have sate together and talked--as 'tis notmy way to talk to much older men. "

They had so talked together, and upon matters much more important thanthe world knew. His Grace of Marlborough's years had been given toother things than letters. He could win a great victory with fargreater ease than he could pen the dispatch announcing it when 'twasgained. "Of all things, " he once said to his Duchess, "I do not lovewriting. " He possessed the faculty of using all men and things thatcame into his way, and there were times when he found of value theservices of a young nobleman whose education and abilities were of thehighest, and who felt deeply honoured by his unusual confidence, andwas also silent and discreet both through taste and by nature. Oldermen were oftenest privately envious and ambitious; and a man who hasdesires for place and power is not to be trusted by one who has gainedthe highest and is attacked by jealousy on all sides. This man wasrich, of high rank, and desired nothing his Grace wished to retain;besides this, his nature was large and so ruled by high honour that'twas not in him to scheme or parley with schemers. So it befel that, despite his youth, he enjoyed the privilege of being treated as if hisyears had been as ripe as his intellect. He knew and learned manythings. Less was hid from him than from any other man in the army, hadthe truth been known. When 'twas a burning necessity for the great manto cross to England to persuade her Majesty to change her ministers, Roxholm knew the processes by which the end was reached. He hadknowledge of all the feverish fits through which political Englandpassed, in greater measure than he himself was conscious of. Hisreflections upon the affairs of Portugal and their management, hisbelief in the importance of the Emperor's reconciliation with theProtestants of Hungary, and of many a serious matter, were taken intoconsideration and pondered over when he knew it not. In hasteningacross the Channel to the English Court, in journeying to Berlin toencounter great personages, in hearing of and beholding intrigue, triumphs, disappointments, pomps, and vanities, he studied in the bestpossible school the art and science of statesmanship, and won forhimself a place in men's minds and memories. 

When, after Blenheim, he returned to England with a slight wound, hisappearance at Court was regarded as an event of public interest, andcommented upon with flowery rhetoric in the journals. The ladies vowedhe had actually grown taller than before, that his deep eyes had apower no woman could resist, and that there was indeed no gentleman inEngland to compare with him either for intellect, beauty, or breeding. Her Majesty showed him a particular favour, and it was rumoured thatshe had remarked that, had one of her many dead infants lived and grownto such a manhood, she would have been a happy woman. Duchess Sarahmelted to him as none had ever seen her melt to man before. She hadheard many stories of him from her lord, and was prepared to begracious, but when she beheld him, she was won by another reason, forhe brought back to her the day when she had been haughty, pennilessSarah Jennings, and the man who seemed to her almost godlike in hisyouth and beauty had knelt at her feet. 

'Twas most natural that at this time there should be much speculationas to the beauty who might be chosen as his partner in life by a youngnobleman of such fortune, a young hero held in such esteem by hiscountry as well as by the world of fashion. Conversation was all themore rife upon the subject because his Lordship paid no special courtto any and seemed a heart-free man. 

Many suitable young ladies were indeed picked out for him, some bytheir own friends and families, some--who had not convenient relativesto act for them--by themselves, and each was delicately or withmatter-of-fact openness presented to his notice. There were brilliantCourt beauties--lovely country virgins of rank and fortune--charmingfemale wits, and fair and bold marauders who would carry on a siegewith skill and daring; but the party attacked seemed not so muchobdurate as unconscious, and neither succumbed nor ran away. When thelovely Lady Helen Loftus fell into a decline and perished a victim toit at the very opening of her eighteenth year, there was a whisperamong certain gossiping elderly matrons, which hinted that only afterher acquaintance with the splendid young Marquess had she begun to lookfrail and large-eyed, and gradually fallen into decay. 

"Never shall I forget, " said old Lady Storms, "seeing the pretty thinglook after him when he bowed and left her after they had danced aminuet together. Her look set me to watching her, and she gazed on himthrough every dance with her large heaven-blue eyes, and when at lastshe saw him turn and come towards her again her breast went up and downand her breath fluttered, and she turned from white to red and from redto white with joy. 'Tis not his fault, poor young man, that women willset their hearts on him; 'tis but nature. I should do it myself if Iwere not seventy-five and a hooked-nosed pock-marked creature. Upon mylife, it is not quite a fair thing that a man with all things which allwomen must want, should be sent forth among us. Usually when a man hathgood looks he hath bad manners or poor wit or mean birth, or a blacksoul like the new man beauty, Sir John Oxon, whom a woman must hatebefore she hath loved him three months. But this one--good Lord! Andwith the best will in life, he cannot take all of us. "

The new man beauty, Sir John Oxon, was indeed much talked of at thistime. Having lived a mad rake's life at the University, and theregained a reputation which had made him the fashionable leader of thewickedest youths of their time, he had fallen heir to his fortune andtitle just as he left Cambridge and was prepared to launch himself intotown life. He had appeared in the world preceded by stories ofsuccessful intrigues, daring indeed when connected with the name of amere youth; but as he was beautiful to behold, and had gayety and graceand a daring wit, such rumours but fixed public attention upon him andmade him the topic of the hour. He was not of the build or statelinessof Lord Roxholm, and much younger, but was as much older than his yearsin sin as the other was in unusual acquirement. He was a slender andexquisitely built youth, with perfect features, melting blue eyes, andrich fair hair which, being so beautiful, he disdained to conceal withany periwig, however elaborate and fashionable. When Roxholm returnedto England, this male beauty's star was in the ascendant. All the towntalked of him, his dress, his high play, the various intrigues he wasengaged in and was not reluctant that the world of fashion should hearof. The party of young gentlemen who had been led by him at theUniversity took him for their model in town, so that there were a setof beaux whose brocaded coats, lace steenkirks, sword-knots, andcarriage were as like Sir John's as their periwigs were like his fairlocks, they having been built as similar as possible by theirperuquiers. His coach and four were the finest upon the road, his chairand chariot, in the town; he had fought a duel about a woman, and therewere those who more than suspected that the wildest band of Mohockswho played pranks at night was formed of half a dozen pretty fellowswho were known as the "Jack Oxonites. "

He was not a young man whose acquirements were to be praised oremulated, but there were pretty women who flattered him and men offashion who found pleasure in his society, for a time at least, andmany a strange scandal connected itself with his name. 

He sang, he told wicked stories, he gambled, and at certaincoffee-houses shone with resplendent light as a successful beau andconqueror. 

'Twas at a club that Roxholm first beheld him. He had heard him spokenof but had not seen him, and going into the coffee-room one eveningwith a friend, a Captain Warbeck, found there a noisy party of beaux, all richly dressed, all full of wine, and all seeming to be the guestsof a handsome fellow more elegantly attired and wearing a more dashingair than any of them. He was in blue and silver and had fair goldenlove-locks which fell in rich profusion on his shoulders. 

He stood up among the company leaning against the table, taking snufffrom a jewelled gold snuff-box with an insolent, laughing grace. 

"A quaint jade she must be, damme, " he said. "I have heard of her thesethree years, and she is not yet fifteen. Never were told me suchstories of a young thing's beauty since I was man-born. Eyes likestars, flaming and black as jet, a carriage like a Juno, a shape--goodLord! like all the goddesses a man has heard of--and hair which is likea mantle and sweeps upon the ground. In less than a year's time I willgo to Gloucestershire and bring back a lock of it--for a trophy. " Andhe looked about him mockingly, as if in triumph. 

"She will clout thee blind, Jack, as she clouted the Chaplain, " criedone of the company. "No man that lives can tame her. She is thefiercest shrew in England, as she is the greatest beauty. "

"She will thrash thee, Jack, as she thrashed her own father with hishunting crop when she was but five years old, " another cried. 

The beau in blue and silver flicked the grains of snuff lightly fromthe lace of his steenkirk with a white jewelled hand and smiled, slowlynodding his fair curled head. 

"I know all that, " he said. "Every story have I heard, and, egad! theybut fire my blood. She is high mettled, but I have dealt withtermagants before--and brought them down, by God!--and brought themdown! There is a way to tame a woman--and I know it. Begin with a lightsoft hand and a melting eye--all's fair in love; and the spoils are tothe victor. When I come back from Gloucestershire with my lock of ravenhair"--he lifted a goblet of wine and tossed it off at a draught--"Ishall leave her as such beauties should be left--on her knees. " Andhis laugh rang forth like a chime of silver. Roxholm sprang up with asmothered oath. 

"Come!" he said to Warbeck. "Come away, in God's name. "

Warbeck had been his fellow-soldier abroad and knew well the dangerousspirit which hid itself beneath his calm. He had seen him roused tofury once before ('twas when in Flanders after a skirmish he found somedrunken soldiers stripping a poor struggling peasant woman of hergarments, while her husband shrieked curses at them from the tree wherehe was tied)--and on that occasion he had told himself 'twould be saferto trifle with a mine of powder than with this man's anger. He rosehurriedly and followed him outside. In the street he could scarce keeppace with his great stride, and the curses that broke from him broughtback hot days of battle. 

"I would not enter into a pot-house brawl with a braggart boy, " hecried. "The blackguard, dastard knave! Drag me away, Hal, lest I rushback like a fool and run him through! I have lost my wits. 'Tis thefashion for dandies to pour forth their bestial braggings, but neverhath a man made my blood so boil and me so mad to strike him. "

"'Tis not like thee so to lose thy wits, Roxholm, " Warbeck said, hishand on his arm, "but thou hast lost them this once surely. 'Tis nowork for the sword of a gentleman pinking foul-mouthed boasters in acoffee-house. Know you who he is?"

"Damnation, _No!_" thundered Roxholm, striding on more fiercely still. 

"'Tis the new dandy, Sir John Oxon, " said Warbeck. "And the beauty hemakes his boast on is the Gloucestershire Wildairs handsome madcap--theone they call Mistress Clo. "

_CHAPTER X_

_My Lord Marquess rides to Camylott_. 

When he went home my lord sate late over his books before he went tohis chamber, yet he read but little, finding his mood disturbed bythoughts which passed through it in his despite. His blood had grownhot at the coffee-house, and though 'twas by no means the first time ithad heated when he heard the heartless and coarse talk of woman whichit was the habit of most men of the day to indulge in, he realised thatit had never so boiled as when he listened to the brutal andsignificant swagger of Sir John Oxon. His youth and beauty and cruel, confident air had made it seem devilish in its suggestion of what hispast almost boyish years might have held of pitiless pleasures andpitiless indifference to the consequences, which, while they were addedtriumphs to him, were ruin and despair to their victims. 

"The laugh in his blue eye was damnable, " Roxholm murmured. "'Twas asif there was no help for her or any other poor creature whom he choseto pursue. The base unfairness of it! He is equipped with the wholearmament--of lures, of lies, of knowledge, and devilish skill. Thereare women, 'tis true, who are his equals; but those who are not--thosewho are ignorant and whose hearts he wins, as 'twould be easy for himto win any woman's who believed his wooing face and voice--Nay, 'twouldbe as dastardly as if an impregnable fortress should open all itsbatteries upon a little child who played before it. And he standslaughing among his mocking crew--triumphing, boasting--in coldblood--of what he plans to do months to come. Fate grant he may notcome near me often. Some day I should break his devil's neck. "

He found himself striding about the room. He was burning with rageagainst the unfairness of it all, as he had burned when, a mere child, he pondered on the story of Wildairs. To-day he was a man, yet hispassion of rebellion was curiously similar in its nature to his youngfury. Now, as then, there was naught to be done to help what seemedlike Fate. In a world made up of men all more or less hunters of theweak, ready to accept the theory that all things defenceless and lovelyare fair game for the stronger, a man whose view was fairer was anabnormality. 

"I do not belong to my time, " he said, flinging himself into his chairagain and speaking grimly. "I am too early--or too late--for it, andmust be content to seem a fool. "

"There is a Fate, " he said a little later, having sat a space gazing atthe floor and deep in thought--"there is a Fate which seems to link meto the fortunes of these people. My first knowledge of theirwretchedness was a thing which sank deep. There are things a humanbeing perhaps remembers his whole life through--and strangely enoughthey are often small incidents. I do not think there will ever passfrom me my memory of the way the rain swept over the park lands andbare trees the day I stood with my Lord Dunstanwolde at the LongGallery window, and he told me of the new-born child dragged shriekingfrom beneath its dead mother's body. "

Some days later he went to Camylott to pass a few weeks in the countrywith his parents, who were about to set forth upon a journey to Italy, where they were to visit in state a palace of a Roman noble who hadbeen a friend of his Grace's youth, they having met and becomecompanions when the Duke first visited Rome in making the grand tour. 'Twas a visit long promised to the Roman gentleman who had more thanonce been a guest of their household in England; and but for affairs ofhis Grace of Marlborough, which Roxholm had bound himself to keep eyeon, he also would have been of the party. As matters stood, honourheld him on English soil, for which reason he went to Camylott to spendthe last weeks with those he loved, amid the country loveliness. 

When my lord Marquess journeyed to the country he took no greatcavalcade with him, but only a couple of servants to attend him, whileMr. Fox rode at his side. The English June weather was heavenly fair, and the country a bower of green, the sun shining with soft warmth andthe birds singing in the hedgerows and upon the leafy boughs. To ride afine horse over country roads, by wood and moor and sea, is a pleasantthing when a man is young and hale and full of joy in Nature'sloveliness, and above all is riding to a home which seems morebeautiful to him than any place on earth. One who has livedtwenty-eight years, having no desire unfulfilled, and taking his partof every pleasure that wealth, high birth, and a splendid body can givehim, may well ride gaily over a good white road and have leisure tothrow back his head to hearken to a skylark soaring in the high blueheavens above him, to smile at a sitting bird's bright eyes peepingtimidly at him from under the thick leafage of a hazel hedge, or at thesight of a family of rabbits scurrying over the cropped woodland grassat the sound of his horse's feet, their short white tails marking theirleaps as they dart from one fern shelter to the other; and to slackenhis horse's pace as he rides past village greens, marking how thelittle children tumble and are merry there. 

So my lord Marquess rode and Mr. Fox with him, for two days at least. In the dewy morning they set forth and travelled between greenhedgerows and through pretty tiny villages, talking pleasantly, as oldfriends will talk, for to the day of his old preceptor's peaceful dyingyears later at Camylott, the Marquess (who was then a Duke) loved andtreated him as a companion and friend, not as a poor underling Chaplainwho must rise from table as if dismissed by the course of sweetmeatswhen it appeared. For refreshments they drew rein at noon before someroadside inn whose eager host spread before them his very best, andhimself waited upon them in awful joy. When the sun set, one manservantrode on before to prepare for their entertainment for the night, andwhen they cantered up to the hostelry, they found the wholeestablishment waiting to receive and do them honour, landlord andlandlady bowing and curtseying on the threshold, maidservants peepingfrom behind doors and through upper windows, and loiterers from thevillage hanging about ready to pull forelocks or bob curtseys, as theirsex demanded. 

"'Tis my lord Marquess of Roxholm, the great Duke of Osmonde's heir, "they would hear it whispered. "He has come back from the wars coveredwith wounds and now rides to pay his respects to their Graces, hisparents, at Camylott Tower. "

'Twas a pleasant journey; Roxholm always remembered and often spoke ofit in after years, for his thought was that in setting out upon it hehad begun to journey towards that which Fate, it seemed, had ordainedthat he should reach--though through dark nights and stormy days--atlast. 

'Twas on the morning of the fourth day there befel them a strangeadventure, and one which had near ended in dark tragedy for one humanbeing at least. 

The horse his lordship rode was a beautiful fiery creature, andsometimes from sheer pleasure in his spirit, his master would spur himto a wild gallop in which he went like the wind's self, showing a joyin the excitement of it which was beauteous to behold. When this fourthmorning they had been but about an hour upon the road, Roxholm gave tothe creature's glossy neck the touch which was the signal 'twas hisdelight to answer. 

"Watch him shoot forward like an arrow from a bow, " my lord said to Mr. Fox, and the next instant was yards away. 

He flew like the wind, his hoofs scarce seeming to touch the earth ashe sped forward, my lord sitting like a Centaur, his face aglow withpleasure, even Mr. Fox's soberer animal taking fire somewhat andputting himself at a gallop, his rider's elderly blood quickening withhis. 

One side of the road they were upon was higher than the other andcovered with a wood, and as Mr. Fox followed at some distance he behelda parlous sight. At a turn in the way, down the bank, there rushed awoman, a frantic figure, hair flying, garments disordered, and with ashriek flung herself full length upon the earth before my lordMarquess's horse, as if with the intent that the iron hoofs should dashout her brains as they struck ground again. Mr. Fox broke forth into acry of horror, but even as it left his lips he beheld a wondrous thing, indeed, though 'twas one which brought his heart into his throat. Theexcited beast's fore parts were jerked upward so high that he seemed torear till he stood almost straight upon his hind legs, his fore feetbeating the air; then, by some marvel of strength and skill, his bodywas wheeled round and his hoofs struck earth at safe distance from theprostrate woman's head. 

My lord sprang from his back and stood a moment soothing his trembling, the animal snorting and panting, the foam flying from his nostrils inhis terror at a thing which his friend and master had never done to himbefore. The two loved each other, and in Roxholm's heart there was asort of rage that he should have been forced to inflict upon him soharsh a shock. 

The woman dragged herself half up from the white dust on which she hadlain. She was shuddering convulsively, her long hair was hanging abouther, her eyes wild and anguished, and her lips shivering more thantrembling. 

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she wailed, and then let herself drop again andwrithed, clutching at the white dust with her hands. 

"Are you mad?" said Roxholm, sternly, "or only in some hysteric fury?Would you have your brains dashed out?"

She flung out her arms, tearing at the earth still and grinding herteeth. 

"Yes--dashed out!" she cried; "all likeness beaten from my face thatnone might know it again. For that I threw myself before you. "

The Marquess gave his horse to the servant, who had ridden to him, andmade a sign both to him and Mr. Fox that they ride a little forward. 

He bent over the girl (for she was more girl than woman, being scarceeighteen) and put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Get up, Mistress, " he said. "Rise and strive to calm yourself. "

Suddenly his voice had taken a tone which had that in its depths nocreature in pain would not understand and answer to. His keen eye hadseen a thing which wrung his heart, it seeming to tell so plainly allthe cruel story. 

"Come, poor creature, " he said, "let me help you to your feet. "

He put his strong arm about her body, and lifted her as if she had beena child, and finding she was so trembling that she had not strength tosupport herself, he even carried her to the grass and laid her downupon it. She had a lovely gipsy face which should have been brilliantwith beauty, but was wild and wan and dragged with horrid woe. Hergreat roe's eyes stared at him through big, welling tears of agony. 

"_You_ look like some young lord!" she cried. "_You_ have a beautifulface and a sweet voice. Any woman would believe you if you swore athing! What are women to do! Are you a villain, too--are you a villain, too?"

"No, " answered he, looking at her straight. "No, I am not. "

"All men are!" she broke forth, wildly. "They lie to us--they trickus--they swear to us--and kneel and pray--and then"--tossing up herarms with a cry that was a shriek--"they make _us_ kneel--andlaugh--laugh--and laugh at us!"

She threw herself upon the grass and rolled about, plucking at herflesh as if she had indeed gone mad. 

"But for you, " she sobbed, "it would be over now, and your horse'shoofs had stamped me out. And now 'tis to do again--for I will do ityet. "

"Nay, you will not, Mistress, " he said, in a still voice, "for yourchild's sake. "

He thought, indeed, she would go mad then: she so writhed and beatherself, that he blamed himself for his words, and knelt by her, restraining her hands. 

"'Tis for its sake I would kill myself, and have my face beaten intothe bloody dust. I would kill it--kill it--kill it--more than I wouldkill myself!"

"Nay, you would not, poor soul, " he said, "if you were not distraught. "

"But I am distraught, " she wailed; "and there is naught but death forboth of us. "

'Twas a strange situation for a young man to find himself in, watchingby the roadside the hysteric frenzy of a maddened girl; but as he hadbeen unconscious on the day he stood, an unclad man, giving the aidthat would save a life, so he thought now of naught but the agony hesaw in this poor creature's awful eyes and heard in her strangledcries. It mattered naught to him that any passing would have thoughtthemselves gazing upon a scene in a strange story. 

There was a little clear stream near, and he went and brought herwater, making her drink it and bathe the dust-stains from her face andhands, and the gentle authority with which he made her do these simplethings seemed somehow to somewhat calm her madness. She looked up athim staring, and with long, sobbing breaths. 

"Who--are you?" she asked, helplessly. 

"I am the Marquess of Roxholm, " he answered, "and I ride to my father'shouse at Camylott; but I cannot leave you until I know you are safe. "

"Safe!" she said. "I safe!" and she clasped her hands about her kneesas she sat, wringing her fingers together. "You do not ask me who Iam, " she added. 

"I need not know your name to do you service, " he answered. "But I mustask you where you would go--to rest. "

"To Death--from which you have plucked me!" was her reply, and shedropped her head against her held-up knees and broke forth sobbingagain. "I tell you there is naught else. If your horse had beat my faceinto the dust, none would have known where I lay at last. Five dayshave I walked and my very clothes I changed with a gipsy woman. Nonewould have known. " Suddenly she looked up with shame and terror in hereyes, the blood flaming in her face. She involuntarily clutched at hissleeve as if in her horror she must confide even to this stranger. "They had begun to look at me--and whisper, " she said. "And one day agirl who hated me laughed outright as I passed--though I strove to bearmyself so straightly--and I heard her mock me. 'Pride cometh first, 'she said, 'and then the fall. _She_ hath fallen far. '"

She looked so young and piteous that Roxholm felt a mist pass beforehis eyes. 

"Poor child!" he said; "poor child!"

"I was proud, " she cried. "It was my sin. They taunted me that he was agentleman and meant me ill, and it angered me--poor fool--and I held myhead higher. He told me he had writ for his Chaplain to come and wed usin secret. He called me 'my lady' and told me what his pride in mewould be when we went to the town. " She put her hands up to her workingthroat as if somewhat strangled her, and the awful look came back intoher widened eyes. "In but a little while he went away, " shegasped--"and when he came back, and I went to meet him in the dark andfell weeping upon his breast, he pushed me back and looked at me, andcurled his lip laughing, and turned away! Oh, John!--John Oxon!" shecried out, "God laughs at women--why shouldst not thou?" and herparoxysm began again. 

At high noon a wagoner whose cart was loaded with hay drove into therick yard of a decent farm-house some hours' journey from the turn inthe road where my lord Marquess had been so strangely checked in hisgallop. An elderly gentleman in Chaplain's garb and bands rode by therough conveyance, and on a bed made in the hay a woman lay and groanedin mortal anguish. 

The good woman of the house this reverend gentleman saw alone and haddiscourse with, paying her certain moneys for the trouble she would beput to by the charge he commanded to her, himself accompanying her whenshe went out to the wagon to care for its wretched burden. 

Throughout the night she watched by her patient's bedside, but as daydawned she left it for a moment to call the Chaplain to come quickly, he having remained in the house that he might be at hand if need shouldbe, in accordance with his patron's wishes. 

"'Tis over, and she is dying, " said the good woman. "I fear she hathnot her wits, poor soul. All night she hath cried one name, and liesand moans it still. "

Mr. Fox followed her into a little cleanly, raftered chamber. He kneltby the bedside and spoke gently to the girl who lay upon the whitepillows, her deathly face more white than the clean, coarse linen. 'Twas true she did not see him, but lay staring at the wall's bareness, her lips moving as she muttered the name she had shrieked and wailedat intervals throughout the hours. "John--Oh, John Oxon!" he couldbarely hear, "God laughs at us--why should not such as thou?"

And when the sun rose she lay stiff and dead, with a dead child in herrigid arm; and Mr. Fox rode slowly back with a grave countenance, tojoin his lord and patron at the village inn, and tell him all wasover. 

_CHAPTER XI_

"_It Might Have Been--It Might Have Been!_"

The heavenly summer weeks he passed with his beloved parents atCamylott before they set forth on their journey to the Continentremained a sweet memory in the mind of the young Marquess so long as helived, and was cherished by him most tenderly. In those lovely Junedays he spent his hours with his father and mother as he had spent themas a child, and in that greater intimacy and closer communion whichcomes to a son with riper years, if the situation is not reversed andhis maturity has not drifted away from such fondness. Both the Duke andDuchess were filled with such noble pride in him and he with such noblelove of them. All they had hoped for in him he had given them, all hismanly heart longed for they bestowed upon him--tenderness, companionship, sympathy in all he did or dreamed of doing. 

After his leave of absence it was his intention to rejoin his Grace ofMarlborough on the Continent for a period, since his great friend hadso desired, but later he would return and give up his career of arms todevote himself to the interests of his country in other ways, and ofthis his mother was particularly glad, feeling all a woman's fears forhis safety and all her soft dread of the horrors of war. 

"I would not have shown you my heart when you went away from England, Gerald, " she said. "'Twould not have been brave and just to do so since'twas your desire to go. But no woman's heart can lie light in herbreast when her son is in peril every hour--and I could not bear tothink, " her violet eyes growing softly dark, "that my son in winningglory might rob other mothers of their joy. "

In their rides and talks together he would relate to his father thestory of his campaign, describe to him the brilliant exploits of thegreat Duke, whom he had seen in his most magnificent hours, as onlythose who fought by his side had seen him; but with her Grace he didnot dwell upon such things, knowing she would not be the happier forhearing of them. With her he would walk through the park, saunteringdown the avenue beneath the oak-trees, or over the green sward to visitthe deer, who knew the sound of her sweet voice, it seemed, and hearingit as she approached would lift their delicate heads and come towardsher to be caressed and fed, welcoming her with the dewy lustrousness oftheir big timorous dark eyes, even the shyest does and little fawnsnibbling from her fair and gentle hand, and following her softly a fewpaces when she turned away. Together she and Roxholm would wanderthrough all the dear places he had loved in his childish years--intothe rose gardens, which were a riot of beauty and marvellous coloursand the pride and joy of the head gardener, who lived for and amongthem, as indeed they were the pride of those who worked under hiscommand, not a man or boy of them knowing any such pleasure as to seeher Grace walk through their labyrinths of bloom with my lord Marquess, each of them rejoicing in the loveliness on every side and gatheringthe fairest blossoms as they went, until sometimes they carried awaywith them rich sheaves of crimson and pink and white and yellow. Theyloved the high-walled kitchen garden, too, and often visited it, spreading delight there among its gardeners by praising its finegrowths, plucking the fruit and gathering nosegays of the old-fashionedflowers which bordered the beds of sober vegetables--sweet peas andCanterbury bells, wall-flowers, sweetwilliams, yellow musk, andpansies, making, her Grace said, the prettiest nosegay in the world. Then they would loiter through the village and make visits to old menand women sitting in the sun, to young mothers with babies in theirarms and little mites playing about their feet. 

"And you never enter a cottage door, mother, " said Roxholm in his youngmanhood's pride and joy in her, "but it seems that the sun begins toshine through the little window, and if there is a caged bird hangingthere it begins to twitter and sing. I cannot find a lady likeyou"--bending his knee and kissing her white fingers in gay caress. "Indeed, if I could I should bring her home to you to Camylott--and oldRowe might ring his bells until he lost his breath. "

"Do you know, " she answered, "what your father said to me the firstmorning I lay in my bed with you in my arm--old Rowe was ringing thebells as if he would go wild. I remember the joyful pealing of them asit floated across the park to come through my open window. We were soproud and full of happiness, and thought you so beautiful--and you are, Gerald, yet; so you are yet, " with the prettiest smile, "and yourfather said of you, 'He will grow to be a noble gentleman and wed anoble lady; and they will be as we have been--as we have been, beloved, ' and we kissed each other with blissful tears in our eyes, andyou moved in my arm, and there was a tiny, new-born smile on yourlittle face. "

"Dear one!" he said, kissing her hand more gravely; "dear one, Godgrant such sweetness may come to me--for indeed I want to love somewoman dearly, " and the warm blood mounted to his cheek. 

Often in their tender confidences they spoke of this fair one who wasto crown his happy life, and one day, having returned from a briefvisit in another county, as they sat together in the evening she brokeforth with a little sigh in her sweet voice. 

"Ah, Gerald, " she said, "I saw in Gloucestershire the loveliest strangecreature--so lovely and so strange that she gave me an ache in theheart. "

"And why, sweet one?" he asked. 

"Because I think she must be the most splendid beauteous thing in allthe world--and she has been so ill used by Fate. How could the poorchild save herself from ill? Her mother died when she was born; herfather is a wicked blasphemous rioter. He has so brought her up thatshe has known no woman all her life, but has been his pastime and toy. From her babyhood she has been taught naught but evil. She is so strongand beautiful and wild that she is the talk of all the country. But, ah, Gerald, the look in her great eyes--her red young mouth--herwonderfulness! My heart stood still to see her. She hurt me so. "

My lord Marquess looked down upon the floor and his brow knit itself. 

"'Twould hurt any tender soul to see her, " he said. "I am but aman--and I think 'twas rage I felt--that such a thing should be cast toravening wolves. "

"You, " she cried, as if half alarmed; "you have seen her?"

"'Tis the beauty of Wildairs you speak of surely, " he answered; "and Ihave seen her once--and heard of her often. "

"Oh, Gerald, " said her Grace, "'tis cruel. If she had had a mother--ifGod had but been good to her--" she put her hand up to her mouth tocheck herself, in innocent dread of that her words implied. "Nay, nay, "she said, "if I would be a pious woman I must not dare to say suchthings. But oh! dearest one--if life had been fair to her, she--_She_is the one you might have loved and who would have worshipped such aman. It might have been--it might have been. "

His colour died away and left him pale--he felt it with a sudden senseof shock. 

"It was not, " he said, hurriedly. "It was not--and she is butfourteen--and our lives lie far apart. I shall be in the field, or atthe French or Spanish Courts. And were I on English soil I--I wouldkeep away. "

His mother turned pale also. Being his mother she felt with him thebeating of his blood--and his face had a strange look which she hadnever seen before. She rose and went to him. 

"Yes, yes, you are right, " she exclaimed. "You could not--she couldnot--! And 'twould be best to keep away--to keep away. For if you lovedher, 'twould drive you mad, and make you forget what you must be. "

He tried to smile, succeeding but poorly. 

"She makes us say strange things--even so far distant, " he said. "Perhaps you are right. Yes, I will keep away. "

And even while he said it he was aware of a strange tumult in him, andknew that, senseless as it might appear, a new thing had sprung to lifein him as if a flame had been lighted. And even in its first smallleaping he feared it. 

'Twas a week later their Graces set forth upon their journey, andthough Roxholm rode with them to Dover, and saw them aboard the packet, he always felt in after years that 'twas in the Long Gallery his motherhad bidden him farewell. 

They stood at the deep window at the end which faced the west andwatched a glowing sunset of great splendour. Never had the earth spreadbefore them seemed more beautiful, or Heaven's self more near. All thewest was piled with heaps of stately golden cloud--great and highclouds, which were like the mountains of the Delectable Land, andfilled one with awe whose eyes were lifted to their glories. And allthe fair land was flooded with their gold. Her Grace looked out to theedge where moor and sky seemed one, and her violet eyes shone toradiance. 

"It is the loveliest place in all the world, " she said. "It has beenthe loveliest home--and I the happiest woman. There has not been anhour I would not live again. "

She turned and lifted her eyes to his face and put one hand on hisbroad breast. "And you, Gerald, " she said; "you have been happy. Tellme you have been happy, too. "

"For twenty-eight years, " he said, and folded his hand over hers. "Fortwenty-eight years. "

She bent her face against his breast and kissed the hand closed overher own. 

"Yes--yes; you have been happy, " she said. "You have said it often; butbefore I went away I wanted to hear you say it once again, " and as shegazed up smiling, a last ray from the sinking sun shot through thewindow and made a halo about her deep gold hair. 

_CHAPTER XII_

_In Which is Sold a Portrait_

There are sure more forces in this Universe than Man has so fardiscovered, and so, not dreaming of them, can neither protect himselfagainst, nor aid them in their workings if he would. Who has notsometimes fancied he saw their mysterious movings and--if of daringmind--been tempted to believe that in some future, even on this earth, the science of their laws might be sought for and explained? Who hasnot seen the time when his own life, or that of some other, seemed toflow, as a current flows, either towards or away from some end, plannedor unplanned by his own mind. At one time he may plan and struggle, and, in spite of all his efforts, the current sweeps him away from theobject he strives to attain--as though he were a mere feather floatingupon its stream; at another, the tide bears him onward as a boat isborne by the rapids, towards a thing he had not dreamed of, nor evenvaguely wished to reach. At such hours, resistance seems useless. Weseize an oar, it breaks in the flood; we snatch at an overhangingbough, it snaps or slips our grasp; we utter cries for help, those onthe bank pass by not hearing, or cast to us a rope the current bearsout of reach. Then we cry "Fate!" and either wring our hands, or curse, or sit and gaze straight before us, while we are swept on--either overthe cataract's edge and dashed to fragments, or out to the tracklessocean, to be tossed by wind and wave till some bark sees and savesus--or we sink. 

From the time of his mother's speech with him after her return fromGloucestershire, thoughts such as these passed often through Roxholm'smind. "It might have been; it might have been, " she had said, and thecurious leap of blood and pulse he had felt had vaguely shocked him. Itscarcely seemed becoming that so young a creature as this lovely hoydenshould so move a man. 'Twas the fashion that girl beauties should bewomen early, and at Court he had seen young things, wives and motherswhen they were scarce older; but this one seemed more than half a boyand--and--! Yet he knew that he had been in earnest when he had said, "I would keep away. "

"I _know_, " he had said to himself when he had been alone later; "I_know_ that if the creature were a woman, 'twould be best that I shouldkeep away--'twould be best for any man to keep away from her, who wasnot free to bear any suffering his passion for her might bring him. Theman who will be chief of a great house--whose actions affect the livesof hundreds--is not free, even to let himself be put to thetorture"--and he smiled unconsciously the smile which was a littlegrim. 

He had seen and studied many women, and in studying them had learned toknow much of himself. He had not been so unconscious of them as he hadseemed. Such a man must meet with adventures at any time, and at aperiod still tainted by the freedom of a dissolute reign, even though'tis near twenty years past, his life, in his own despite, must containincidents which would reveal much to the world, if related to it. Roxholm had met with such adventures, little as they were to his taste, and had found at both foreign and English Courts that all women werenot non-attacking creatures, and in discovering this had learned that aman must be a stone to resist the luring of some lovely eyes. 

"I need not think myself invulnerable, " he had thought often. "I canresist because I have loved none of them. Had it chanced otherwise--Godhave mercy on my soul!"

And now the current of his life for weeks seemed strangely set towardsone being. When he returned to London after seeing his parents departfor Italy, he met in his first walk in the city streets his erstfellow-collegian and officer, Lieutenant Thomas Tantillion, in Englandon leave, who almost hallooed with joy at sight of him, shaking him bythe hand as if his arm had been a pump-handle, and then thrusting hisown arm through it, and insisting affectionately on dragging him alongthe street that he might pour forth his renewed protestations ofaffection and the story of his adventures. 

"Never was I more glad to see a man, " he said. "I'm damned if wescapegraces have not missed thy good-looking face. Thou art a finefellow, Roxholm--and good-natured--ay, and modest, too--for all thybeauty and learning. Many a man, with half thou hast, would wear grandCourt airs to a rattle-pated rascal like Tom Tantillion. Wilford doesit--and he is but a Viscount, and for all his straight nose and fineeyes but five feet ten. Good Lord! he looks down on us who did not passwell at the University, like a cock on a dunghill. "

The Marquess laughed out heartily, having in his mind a lively pictureof my Lord Wilford, whose magnificence of bearing he knew well. 

"Art coming back, Roxholm?" asked Tom next. "When does thy leaveexpire?"

"I am coming back, " Roxholm answered, "but I shall not long live asoldier's life. 'Tis but part of what I wish to do. "

"His Grace of Marlborough misses thee, I warrant, " said Tom. "'Tisoften said he never loved a human thing on earth but John Churchilland his Duchess, but I swear he warmed to thee. "

"He did me honour, if 'tis true, " Roxholm said, "but I am not vainenough to believe it--gracious as he has been. "

At that moment his volatile companion gave his arm a clutch and stoppedtheir walk as if a sudden thought had seized him. 

"Where wert thou going, Roxholm?" he asked. "Lord, Lord, I was so gladto see thee, that I forgot. "

"What didst forget, Tom?"

Tom slapt his thigh hilariously. "That I had an errand on hand. A goodjoke, split me, Roxholm! Come with me; I go to see the picture of abeauty, stole by the painter, who is always drunk, and with his clothesin pawn, and lives in a garret in Rag Lane. "

He was in the highest spirits over the adventure, and would dragRoxholm with him, telling him the story as they went. The painter, whowas plainly enough a drunken rapscallion fellow, in strolling about thecountry, getting his lodging and skin full of ale, now here, now there, by daubing Turks' Heads, Foxes and Hounds, and Pigs and Whistles, assigns for rustic ale-houses, had seen ride by one day a young lady ofsuch beauty that he had made a sketch of her from memory, and findingwhere she lived, had hung about in the park to get a glimpse of heragain, and having succeeded, had made her portrait and brought it backto town, in the hope that some gentleman might be taken by its charmsand buy it. 

"He hath drunk himself down to his last groat, and will let it go for asong now, " said Tom. "I would get there before any other fellow does. Jack Wyse and Hal Langton both want it, but they have gamed theirpockets empty, and wait till necessity forces him to lower his price totheir means. But an hour since I heard that he had pawned his breechesand lay in bed writing begging letters. So now is the time to visithim. It was in Gloucestershire he found her--"

He stopped and turned round. 

"Hang me! 'Tis the very one Bet wrote of, and I read you the letter. Dost remember it? The vixen who clouted the Chaplain for kissing her. "

"Yes, " said Roxholm; "I remember. "

Tom rattled on in monstrous spirits. "I have had further letters fromBet, " he said, "and each is a sermon with the beauty's sins for a text. The women are so jealous of her that the men could not forget her ifthey would, they scold so everlastingly. Lord, what a stir the hoydenis making!"

They turned into Rag Lane presently, and 'twas dingy enough, being adirty, narrow place, with high black houses on either side, theirwindows broken and stuffed with bits of rag and paper, their doorwaysornamented with slatternly women or sodden-faced men, while up and downran squalid, noisy children under the flapping pieces of poor wearingapparel hung on lines to dry. 

After some questioning they found the house the man they were in searchof lived in, and 'twas a shade dingier than the rest. They mounted ablack broken-down stairway till they reached the garret, and thereknocked at the door. 

For a few moments there was no answer, but that they could hear loudand steady snores within. 

"He is sleeping it off!" said Tom, grinning, and whacked loudly on thedoor's cracked panels, by which, after two or three attacks, heevidently disturbed the sleeper, who was heard first to snort and thento begin to grumble forth drowsy profanities. 

"Let us in, " cried Tom. "I bring you a patron, sleepy fool. "

Then 'twas plain some one tumbled from his bed and shuffled forward tothe door, whose handle he had some difficulty in turning. But when hegot the door open, and caught sight of lace and velvet, plumed hats andshining swords, he was not so drunk but that which the sight suggestedenlivened and awaked him. He uttered an exclamation, threw the doorwide, and stood making unsteady but humbly propitiatory bows. 

"Your lordships' pardon, " he said. "I was asleep and knew not that suchhonour awaited me. Enter, your lordships; I pray you enter. "

'Twas a little mean place with no furnishings but a broken bedstead, arickety chair, and an uncleanly old table on which were huddledtogether a dry loaf, an empty bottle, and some poor daubs of pictures. The painter himself was an elderly man with a blotched face, a bibulouseye, and half unclothed, he having wrapped a dirty blanket about hisbody to conceal decently his lack of nether garments. 

"We come to look at your portrait of the Gloucestershire beauty, " saidTom. 

"All want to look at it, my Lord, " said the man, with a leer, halfservile, half cunning. "There came two young gentlemen of fashionyesterday morning, and almost lost their wits at sight of it. Eitherwould have bought it, but both had had ill luck at basset for a weekand so could do no more than look, and go forth with their mouthswatering. "

Tom grinned. 

"You painters are all rogues who would bleed every gentleman you see, "he said. 

"We are poor fellows who find it hard to sell our wares, " the artistanswered. "'Tis only such as the great Mr. Kneller who do not starve, and lie abed because their shirts and breeches are in pawn. When a manhas a picture like to take the fancy of every young nobleman in town, he may well ask its value. "

"Let us see it, " cried Tom. "To a gentleman it may seem a daub. "

The man looked at him slyly. 

"'Twould pay me to keep it hid here and exhibit it for a fee, " he said. "The gentlemen who were here yesterday will tell others, and they willcome and ask to look at it, and then--"

"Show it to us, sir, " said Roxholm, breaking in suddenly in his deepervoice and taking a step forward. 

He had stood somewhat behind, not being at first in the mood to takepart in the conversation, having no liking for the situation. That ayoung lady's portrait should be stolen from her, so to speak, and puton sale by a drunken painter without her knowledge, annoyed him--andthe man's leering hint of its future exhibition roused his blood. 

"Show it to us, sir, " he said, and in his voice there was thatsuggestion of command which is often in the voice of a man who has hadsoldiers under him. 

The but half-sober limner being addressed by him for the first time, and for the first time looking at him directly, gave way to a slighthiccoughing start and strove to stand more steady. 'Twas no gayyouthful rake who stood before him, but plainly a great gentleman, andmost amazing tall and stately. 'Twas not a boy come to look at apeep-show, but might be a possible patron. 

"Yes, your lordship, " he stammered, bowing shakily, "I--I will bring itforth. Your lordship will find the young lady a wonder. " He wentswaying across the room, and opened a cupboard in the wall. The canvasstood propped up within, and he took it out and brought it back tothem--keeping its face turned away. 

"Let me set it in as good a light as the poor place can give, " he said, and dragged forth the rickety-legged chair that he might prop itagainst its back, for the moment looking less drunk and less a vagabondin his eagerness to do his work justice; there lurking somewhere, perhaps, in his besotted being, that love which the artist soul feelsfor the labour of its dreams. 

"In sooth, my lord, 'tis a thing which should have been better done, "he said. "I could have done the young lady's loveliness more justice, had I but had the time. First I saw her for scarce more than a moment, and her face so haunted me that I sketched it for my own pleasure--andthen I hung about her father's park for days, until by great fortune Icame upon her one morning standing under a tree, her dogs at her feet, and she lost in thought--and with such eyes gazing before her--! Istood behind a tree and did my best, trembling lest she should turn. But no man could paint her eyes, my lord, " rubbing his head ruefully;"no man could paint them. Mr. Kneller will not--when she weds a Dukeand comes to queen it at the Court. "

He had managed to keep before the picture as he spoke, and now hestepped aside and let them behold it, glancing from one to the other. 

"Damn!" cried Tom Tantillion, and sprang forward from his chair atsight of it. 

My lord Marquess made no exclamation nor spoke one word. The paintermarked how tall he stood as he remained stationary, gazing. He hadfolded his arms across his big chest and seemed to have unconsciouslydrawn himself to his full height. Presently he spoke to the artist, though without withdrawing his eyes from the picture. 

"'Tis no daub, " he said. "For a thing done hastily 'tis done well. Youhave given it spirit. "

'Twas fairly said. Indeed, the poor fellow knew something of his trade, 'twas evident, and perhaps for once he had been sober, and inspired bythe fire of what he saw before him. 

She stood straight with her back against a tree's trunk, her handsbehind her, her eyes gazing before. She was tall and strong as youngDiana; under the shadow of her Cavalier hat, her rich-tinted face wasin splendid gloom, it seeming gloom, not only because her hair was likenight, and her long and wide eyes black, but because in her far-offlook there was gloom's self and somewhat like a hopeless rebelliousyearning. She seemed a storm embodied in the form of woman, and yet inher black eyes' depths--as if hid behind their darkest shadows andunknown of by her very self--there lay the possibility of a great andstrange melting--a melting which was all woman--and woman who wasqueen. 

"By the Lord!" cried Tom Tantillion again, and then flushed up boyishlyand broke forth into an awkward laugh. "She is too magnificent a beautyfor an empty-pocketed rascal like me to offer to buy her. I have notwhat would pay for her--and she knows it. She sets her own price uponherself, as she stands there curling her vermilion lip and daring a manto presume to buy her cheap. 'Tis only a great Duke's son who may makebold to bid. " And he turned and bowed, half laughing, half malicious, to Roxholm. "You, my lord Marquess; a purse as full as yours need notbargain for the thing it would have, but clap down guineas for it. "

"A great Duke's son!" "My lord Marquess!" The owner of the picturebegan to prick up his ears. Yes, the truth was what he had thought it. 

"The gentleman who owns this picture when the young lady comes up totown that the world may behold her, " he said, "will be a proud man. "

"No gentleman would have the right to keep it if he had not herpermission, " said Roxholm--and he said it without lightness. 

"Most gentlemen would keep it whether she would or no, " answered thepainter. 

"Catch Langdon or Wyse giving it up, " says Tom. "And Wyse said, thatblackguard Oxon was coming to see it because he hath made a bet on herin open club, and hearing of the picture, said he would come to see ifshe were worth his trouble--and buy her to hang in his chambers, if shewere--that he might tell her of it when he went to Gloucestershire tolay siege to her. He brags he will persuade her he has prayed to herimage for a year. "

"What is your price?" said my Lord Roxholm to the painter. 

The man set one and 'twas high though 'twould not have seemed so in anage when art was patronised and well paid for in a country where 'twasmore generously encouraged than in England in the days of good QueenAnne. In truth, the poor fellow did not expect to get half he asked, but hoped by beginning well to obtain from a Duke's son twice whatanother gentleman would give him--and he was prepared to haggle, ifneed be, for two hours. 

But my lord Marquess did not haggle. There had come into hiscountenance the look of a man who has made up his mind to take thething he wants. He drew forth his purse and paid down the sum in goldenguineas and bank-notes, the painter's eyes gloating as they werecounted on the table and his head growing giddy with his joy. He wouldhave enough to live drunk for a year, after his own economical methods. A garret--and drink enough--were all he required for bliss. The picturewas to be sent forthwith to Osmonde House, and these directions given, the two gentlemen turned to go. But at the door the Marquess paused andspoke again. 

"If any should come here before it is sent to me, " he said, "rememberthat 'tis already purchased and not on exhibition. "

The artist bowed low a dozen times. 

"On my sacred honour, your lordship, " he replied, "none shall see it. "

Roxholm regarded him for a moment as if a new thought had presenteditself to his mind. 

"And remember also, " he added, "if any should ask you to try to paint acopy from memory--or to lie in wait for the young lady again and makeanother--'tis better"--and his voice had in it both meaning andcommand--"'tis far better to please a patron, than a purchaser who hasa momentary caprice. Live soberly and do honest work--and bring to mewhat is worthy of inspection. You need not starve unless 'tis yourwish. "

"My lord Marquess, " cried the man; "your noble lordship, " and he madeas if he would fall upon his knees. 

Roxholm made a gesture towards the picture, still in its place upon thecrazy chair. 

"I told you that was no daub, " he said. "A man who can do that much cando more if he has the spirit. "

And his visitors went out and left the artist in his garret, the stormyhandsome creature gazing into space on one side, the guineas andbank-notes on the dusty table; and after having reflected upon both fora little space, he thrust his head out of the door and called for hislandlady, who having beheld two richly clad gentlemen come from theattic, was inclined to feel it safe to be civil, and answering hissummons went up to him, and being called in, was paid her long unpaiddues from the little heap on the table, the seeing of which richesalmost blinded her and sent her off willingly to the pawnbroker's tobring back the pledged breeches and coat and linen. 

"The tall gentleman with so superb an air, " the poor man said, proudly, trembling with triumphant joy, "is my lord Marquess of Roxholm, and heis the heir of the ducal house of Osmonde, and promises me patronage. "

When they passed out into the street and were on their way to St. James's Park, Tom Tantillion was in a state of much interestedexcitement. 

"What shall you do with it, Roxholm?" he asked. "Have it set in a richgold frame and hung up on the gallery at Osmonde House--or in thecountry? Good Lord! I dare not have carried her to my lodgings if Icould have bought her. She would be too high company for me and keep meon my best manners too steady. A man dare not play the fool with such acreature staring at him from the wall. 'Tis only a man who is a hero, and a stately mannered one, who could stay in the same room with herwithout being put out of countenance. Will she rule in the gallery intown or in the country?"

"She will not be framed or hung, but laid away, " answered Roxholm. "Ibought her that no ill-mannered rake or braggart should get her and beinsolent to her in her own despite when she could not strike him to hisknees and box his ears, as she did the Chaplain's--being only a womanpainted on canvas. " And he showed his white, strong teeth a little in astrange smile. 

"What!" cried Tom. "You did not buy her for your own pleasure----?"

The Marquess stopped with a sudden movement. 

"On my faith!" he exclaimed, "there is the Earl of Dunstanwolde. Hesees us and comes towards us. "

_CHAPTER XIII_

"_Your--Grace_!"

"Come with me, Gerald, to Dunstan's Wolde, " said my lord, as they sattogether that night in his town-house. "I would have your company ifyou will give it me until you rejoin Marlborough. I am lonely in thesedays. "

His lordship did not look his usual self, seeming, Roxholm thought, worn and sometimes abstracted. He was most kind and affectionate, andthere was in his manner a paternal tenderness and sympathy which theyoung man was deeply touched by. If it had been possible for him tohave spoken to any living being of the singular mental disturbance hehad felt beginning in him of late, he could have confessed it to LordDunstanwolde. But nature had created in him a tendency to silence andreserve where his own feelings were concerned. As to most human beingsthere is a consolation in pouring forth the innermost secret thoughtsat times, to him there was support in the knowledge that he held allwithin his own breast and could reflect upon his problems in sacredprivacy. At this period, indeed, his feelings were such as he couldscarcely have described to any one. He was merely conscious of a sortof unrest and of being far from comprehending his own emotions. Theywere, indeed, scarcely definite enough to be called emotions, but onlyseemed shadows hovering about him and causing him vaguely to wonder attheir existence. He was neither elated nor depressed, but found himselfconfronting fancies he had not confronted before, and at timesregarding the course of events with something of the feeling of afatalist. There was a thing it seemed from which he could not escape, yet in his deepest being was aware that he would have preferred toavoid it. No man wishes to encounter unhappiness; he was consciousremotely that this preference for avoidance arose from a vaguelydefined knowledge that in one direction there lay possibilities ofharsh suffering and pain. 

"'Tis a strange thing, " he said to himself, "how I seem forbid by Fateto avoid the path of this strange wild creature. My Lord Marlboroughbrings her up to me at his quarters, I leave them; and going to my own, meet with Tantillion and his letter; I enter a coffee-house and hearwild talk of her; I go to my own house and my mother paints a pictureof her which stirs my very depths; I walk in the streets of London andam dragged aside to find myself gazing at her portrait; I leave it, and meet my Lord Dunstanwolde, who prays me to go to Warwickshire, where I shall be within a few miles of her and may encounter her anyhour. What will come next?"

That which came next was not unlike what had gone before. On theirjourney to Warwickshire my Lord Dunstanwolde did not speak of thelovely hoyden, whereat Roxholm somewhat wondered, as his lordship hadbut lately left her neighbourhood and her doings seemed the county'sscandal; but 'tis true that on their journey he conversed little andseemed full of thought. 

"Do not think me dull, Gerald, " he said; "'tis only that of late I havebegun to feel that I am an older man than I thought--perhaps too old tobe a fit companion for youth. An old fellow should not give way tofancies. I--I have been giving way. "

"Nay, nay, my dear lord, " said Roxholm with warm feeling, "'tis tofancy you _should_ give way--and 'tis such as you who are youths' bestcompanions, since you bring to those of fewer years ripeness which isnot age, maturity which is not decay. What man is there of twenty-eightwith whom I could ride to the country with such pleasure as I feelto-day. You have lived too much alone of late. 'Tis well I came toWarwickshire. "

This same evening after they had reached their journey's end, ondescending to the saloon before dinner, his guest found my lordstanding before the portrait of his lost wife and gazing at it with astrange tender intentness, his hands behind his back. He turned atRoxholm's entrance, and there were shadows in his eyes. 

"Such an one as she, " he said, "would forgive a man--even if he seemedfalse--and would understand. But none could be false to her--orforget. " And so speaking walked away, the portrait seeming to followhim with its young flower-blue eyes. 

'Twas the same evening Lord Twemlow rode over from his estate to spendthe night with them, and they were no sooner left with their wine thanhe broke forth into confidence and fretting. 

"I wanted to talk to thee, Edward, " he said to Dunstanwolde (they hadbeen boys together). "I am so crossed these days that I can scarce bearmy own company. 'Tis that young jade again, and I would invent somemeasures to be taken. "

"Ay, 'tis she again, I swear, " had passed through Roxholm's mind as helooked at his wineglass, and that instant his lordship turned on himalmost testily to explain. 

"I speak of a kinswoman who is the bane and disgrace of my life, as shewould be the bane and disgrace of any gentleman who was of herfamily, " he said. "A pretty fool and baby who was my cousin married areprobate, Jeof Wildairs, and this is his daughter and is a shamelessbaggage. Egad! you must have seen her on the hunting-field when youwere with us--riding in coat and breeches and with her mane of hairlooped under her hat. "

"I saw her, " Roxholm answered--and it seemed to him that as he spoke hebeheld again the scarlet figure fly over the hedge on its young devilof a horse--and felt his heart leap as the horse did. 

My Lord Dunstanwolde looked grave and pushed his glass back and forthon the mahogany. Glancing at him Roxholm thought his cheek had flushed, as if he did not like the subject. But Twemlow went on, growing hotter. 

"One day in the field, " he said, "it broke from its loop--her hair--andfell about her like a black mantle, streaming over her horse's back, and a sight it was--and damn it, so was she; and every man in the fieldshouting with pleasure or laughter. And she snatched her hat off withan oath and sat there as straight as a dart, but in a fury and windingher coils up, with her cheeks as scarlet as her coat and cursing like ayoung vagabond stable-boy between her teeth. "

Dunstanwolde moved suddenly and almost overset his glass, but Roxholmtook his up and drained it with an unmoved countenance. 

But he could see her sitting in her black hair, and could see, too, thesplendid scarlet on her angry cheek, and her eyes flashing wickedly. 

"Tis not decent, " cried Lord Twemlow, striking the table with his hand. "If the baggage were not what she is, it would be bad enough, but thereis not a woman in England built so. 'Tis well Charles Stuart is not onthe throne, or she would outdo any Castlemaine that ever ruled him. And'tis well that Louis is in France and that Maintenon keeps him sober. She might retrieve her house's fortunes and rule at Court a Duchess;but what decent man will look at her with her Billingsgate and herbreeches? A nice lady she would make for a gentleman! Any modestsnub-nosed girl would be better. There is scarce a week passes she doesnot set the country by the ears with some fury or frolic. One time 'tisclouting a Chaplain till his nose bleeds; next 'tis frightening somevirtuous woman of fashion into hysteric swooning with her impudentflaming tongue. The women hate her, and she pays them out as _she_ onlycan. Lady Maddon had fits for an hour, after an encounter with her, intheir meeting by chance one day at a mercer's in the county town. Shehas the wit of a young she-devil and the temper of a tigress, and is sotall, and towers so that she frightens them out of their senses. "

My lord Marquess looked at him across the table. 

"She is young, " he said, "she is beautiful. Is there no man who lovesher who can win her from her mad ways?"

"Man!" cried Twemlow, raging, "every scoundrel and bumpkin in the shireis mad after her, but she knows none who are not as bad as she--andthey tell me she laughs her wild, scornful laugh at each of them andlooks at him--standing with her hands in her breeches pockets and herlegs astride, and mocks as if she were some goddess instead of a merestrapping, handsome vixen. 'There is not one of ye, ' she says, 'not oneamong ye who is man and big enough!' Such impudence was never yet inwoman born! And the worst on't is, she is right--damn her!--she'sright. "

"Yes, " said my Lord Dunstanwolde with a clouded face. "'Tis a Man whowould win her--young and beautiful and strong--strong!"

"She needs a master!" cried Twemlow. 

"Nay, " said Roxholm--"a mate. "

"Mate, good Lord!" cried Twemlow, again turning to stare at him. "Amaster, say I. "

"'Tis a barbaric fancy, " said Roxholm thoughtfully as he turned thestem of his glass, keeping his eyes fixed on it as though solving aproblem for himself. "A barbaric fancy that a woman needs a master. Shewho is strong enough is her own conqueror--as a man should be masterof himself. "

"No gentleman will take her if she does not mend her ways, " LordTwemlow said, hotly; "and with all these country rakes about her shewill slip--as more decently bred girls have. All eyes are set upon her, waiting for it. She has so drawn every gaze upon her, that her scandalwill set ablaze a light that will flame like a beacon-fire from ahill-top. She will repent her bitterly enough then. None will spareher. She will be like a hare let loose with every pack in the countyset upon her to hunt her to her death. "

"Ah!"--the exclamation broke forth as if involuntarily from my LordDunstanwolde, and Roxholm, turning with a start, saw that he hadsuddenly grown pale. 

"You are ill!" he cried. "You have lost colour!"

"No! No!" his lordship answered hurriedly, and faintly smiling. "'Tisover! 'Twas but a stab of pain. " And he refilled his glass with wineand drank it. 

"You live too studious a life, Ned, " said Twemlow. "You have looked butpoorly this month or two. "

"Do not let us speak of it, " Lord Dunstanwolde answered, a littlehurried, as before. "What--what is it you think to do--or have you yetno plan?"

"If she begins her fifteenth year as she has lived the one just past, "said my lord, ruffling his periwig in his annoyance, "I shall send myChaplain to her father to give him warning. We are at such odds that ifI went myself we should come to blows, and I have no mind either to berun through or to drive steel through his thick body. He would have hermarry, I would swear, and counts on her making as good a match as shecan make without going to Court, where he cannot afford to take her. Ishall lay command on Twichell to put the case clear before him--that nogentleman will pay her honourable court while he so plays the fool asto let her be the scandal of Gloucestershire--aye, and ofWorcestershire and Warwickshire to boot. That may stir hisliquor-sodden brain and set him thinking. "

"How--will _she_ bear it?" asked his Lordship of Dunstanwolde. "Willnot her spirit take fire that she should be so reproved?"

"'Twill take fire enough, doubtless--and be damned to it!" replied myLord Twemlow, hotly. "She will rage and rap out oaths like a trooper, but if Jeof Wildairs is the man he used to be, he will make her obeyhim, if he chooses--or he will break her back. "

"'Twould be an awful battle, " said Roxholm, "between a will like hersand such a brute as he, should her choice not be his. "

"Ay, he is a great blackguard, " commented Twemlow, coolly enough. "England scarcely holds a bigger than Jeoffry Wildairs, and he has hadthe building of her, body and soul. "

'Twas not alone my Lord Twemlow who talked of her, but almost everyother person, so it seemed. Oftenest she was railed at and condemned, the more especially if there were women in the party discussing her;but 'twas to be marked that at such times as men were congregated andtalked of her faults and beauties, more was said of her charms than hersins. They fell into relating their stories of her, even the soberestof them, as if with a sense of humour in them, as indeed the point ofsuch anecdotes was generally humorous because of a certain piquantboldness and lawless wild spirit shown in them. The story of theChaplain, Roxholm heard again, and many others as fantastic. Theretorts of this young female Ishmael upon her detractors and assailers, on such rare occasions as she encountered them, were full of a wit sobiting and so keen that they were more than any dared to face when itcould be avoided. But she was so bold and ingenious, and so ready withdevices, that few could escape her. Her companionship with her father'scronies had given her a curious knowledge of the adventures which tookplace in three counties, at least, and her brain was so alert and hermemory so unusual that she was enabled to confront an enemy with suchadroitly arranged circumstantial evidence that more than one poorbeauty would far rather have faced a loaded cannon than found herselfwithin the immediate neighbourhood of the mocking and flashing eyes. Her meeting in the mercer's shop with the fair "Willow Wand, " LadyMaddon, had been so full of spirited and pungent truth as to drive herladyship back to London after her two hours' fainting fits were over. 

"Look you, my lady, " she had ended, in her clear, rich girl-voice--andto every word she uttered the mercer and his shopmen and boys had stoodlistening behind their counters or hid round bales of goods, allgrinning as they listened--"I know all your secrets as I know thesecrets of other fine ladies. I know and laugh at them because theyshow you to be such fools. They are but fine jokes to me. My morals donot teach me to pray for you or blame you. Your tricks are your ownbusiness, not another woman's, and I would have told none of them--notone--if you had not lied about me. I am not a woman in two things: Iwear breeches and I know how to keep my mouth shut as well as if 'twerepadlocked; but you lied about me when you told the story of youngLockett and me. 'Twas a damned lie, my lady. Had it been true nonewould have known of it, and he must have been a finer man--with morebeauty and more wit. But as for the thing I tell you of Sir James--andyour meeting at----"

But here the fragile "Willow Wand" shrieked and fell into her firstfit, not having strength to support herself under the prospect ofhearing the story again with further and more special detail. 

"I hear too much of her, " Roxholm said to himself at last. "She is inthe air a man breathes, and seems to get into his veins and fly to hisbrain. " He suddenly laughed a short laugh, which even to himself had aharsh sound. "'Tis time I should go back to Flanders, " he said, "andrejoin his Grace of Marlborough. "

He had been striding over the hillsides all morning with his gun overhis shoulder, and had just before he spoke thrown himself down to rest. He had gone out alone, his mood pleasing itself best with solitude, andhad lost his way and found himself crossing strange land. Being weariedand somewhat out of sorts, he had flung himself down among the heatherand bracken, where he was well out of sight, and could lie and look upat the gray of the sky, his hands clasped beneath his head. 

"Yes, 'twill be as well that I go back to Flanders, " he said again, somewhat gloomily; and as he spoke he heard voices on the fall of thehill below him, and glancing down through the gorse bushes, sawapproaching his resting-place four sportsmen who looked as fatigued ashimself. 

He did not choose to move, thinking they would pass him, and as theycame nearer he recognised them one by one, having by this time beenlong enough in the neighbourhood to have learned both names and faces. They were of the Wildairs crew, and one man's face enlightened him asto whose estate he trespassed upon, the owner of the countenance beinga certain Sir Christopher Crowell, a jolly drunken dog whose land hehad heard was somewhere in the neighbourhood. The other two men were aLord Eldershawe and Sir Jeoffry Wildairs himself, while the tallstripling with them 'twas easy to give a name to, though she strodeover the heather with her gun on her shoulder and as full a game-bag asif she had been a man--it being Mistress Clorinda, in corduroy and withher looped hair threatening to break loose and hanging in disorderabout her glowing face. They were plainly in gay humour, thoughwearied, and talked and laughed noisily as they came. 

"We have tramped enough, " cried Sir Jeoffry, "and bagged birds enoughfor one morning. 'Tis time we rested our bones and put meat and drinkin our bellies. "

He flung himself down upon the heather and the other men followed hisexample. Mistress Clo, however, remaining standing, at first leaningupon her gun. 

My lord Marquess gazed down at her from his ledge and shut his teeth inanger at the mounting of the blood to his cheek and its unseemlyburning there. 

"I will stay where I am and look at her, at least, " he said. "To belooked at does no woman harm, and to look at one can harm no man--if hebe going to Flanders. "

That which disturbed him most was his realising that he always thoughtof her as a woman--and also that she _was_ a woman and no child. 'Twasalmost impossible to believe she was no older than was said, when onebeheld her height and youthful splendour of body and bearing. He knewno woman of twenty as tall as she and shaped with such strength andfineness. Her head was set so on her long throat and her eyes so lookedout from under her thick jet lashes, that in merely standing erect sheseemed to command and somewhat disdain; but when she laughed, her redlips curling, her little strong teeth gleaming, and her eyes openingand flashing mirth, she was the archest, most boldly joyous creature aman had ever beheld. Her morning's work on the moors had made her looklike young Nature's self, her cheek was burnt rich-brown and crimson, her disordered hair twined in big rough rings about her forehead, hermovements were as light, alert, and perfect as if she had been a deeror any wild thing of the woods or fields. There was that about her thatmade Roxholm feel that she must exhale in breath and hair and garmentsthe scent of gorse and heather and fern and summer rains. 

As one man gazed at her so did the others, though they were his eldersand saw her often, while he was but twenty-eight and had beheld her butonce before. 

Each man of the party took from his pouch a small but well-filledpacket of food and a flask, and fell to upon their contentsvoraciously, talking as they worked their jaws and joking with MistressClo. She also brought forth her own package, which held bread and meat, and a big russet apple, upon she set with a fine appetite. 'Twas goodeven to see her eat, she did it with such healthy pleasure, as a younghorse might have taken his oats or a young setter his supper after aday in the cover. 

"_Thou_'rt not tired, Clo!" cries Eldershawe, laughing, as she fellupon her russet apple, biting into it crisply, and plainly with thepleasure of a hungry child. 

"Not I, good Lord!" she answered. "Could shoot over as many milesagain. "

"When thou'rt fifty years old, wilt not be so limber and have suchmuscles, " said Sir Jeoffry. 

"She hath not so long to wait, " said the third man, grinning. "Wast notfourteen in November, Clo? Wilt soon be a woman. "

She bit deep into her fruit and stared out over the moors below. 

"Am not going to be a woman, " she said. "I hate them. "

"They hate thee, " said Eldershawe, with a chuckle, "and will hate theeworse when thou wearest brocades and a farthingale. "

"I have watched them, " proceeded Mistress Clo. "They cannot keep theirmouths shut. If they have a secret they must tell it, whether 'tistheir own or another's. They clack, they tell lies, they cry and screamout if they are hurt; but they will hurt anything which cannot hurtthem back. They run and weep to each other when they are in love and aman slights them. They have no spirit and no decency. " She said it withsuch an earnest solemness that her companions shouted with laughter. 

"She sits in her breeches--the unruliest baggage in Gloucestershire, "cried Eldershawe, "and complains that fine ladies are not decent. Whatwould they say if they heard thee?"

"They may hear me when they will, " said Mistress Clo, springing to herfeet with a light jump and sending the last of her apple whizzing intospace with a boyish throw. "'Tis I who am the modest woman--for all mybreeches and manners. I do not see indecency where there is none--forthe mere pleasure of ogling and bridling and calling attention to mysimpering. I should have seen no reason for airs and graces if I hadbeen among those on the bank when the fine young Marquess we heard ofsaved the boat-load on the river and gave orders for the reviving ofthe drowned man--in his wet skin. When 'tis spoke of--for 'tis afavourite story--that little beast Tantillion hides her face behind herfan and cries, 'Oh, Lud! thank Heaven I was not near. I should haveswooned away at the very sight. '"

She imitated the affected simper of a girl in such a manner that thethree sportsmen yelled with delight, and Roxholm himself gnawed his lipto check an involuntary break into laughter. 

"What didst say to her the day she bridled over it at Knepton, when theyoung heir was there?" said Crowell, grinning. "I was told thoudisgraced thyself, Clo. What saidst thou?"

She was standing her full straight height among them and turned, withher hands in her pockets and a grave face. 

"My blood was hot, " she answered. "I said, 'Damn thee for a lyinglittle fool!' _That_ thou wouldst not!"

And the men who lay on the ground roared till they rolled there, andRoxholm gnawed his lip again, though not all from mirth, for there wasin his mind another thing. She did not laugh but stood in the sameposition, but now looking out across the country spread below. 

"I shall love no man who will scorn me, " she continued in her mellowvoice; "but if I did I would be burned alive at the stake before Iwould open my lips about it. And I would be burned alive at the stakebefore I would play tricks with my word or break my promise when 'twasgiven. Women think they can swear a thing and unswear it, to save orplease themselves. They give themselves to a man and then repent it andare slippery. If I had given myself, and found I had been a fool, Iwould keep faith. I would play no tricks--even though I learned to hatehim. No, I will not be a woman. "

And she picked up her gun and strode away, and seeing this they roseall three by one accord, as if she were their chieftain, and followedher. 

After they were gone my lord Marquess did not move for some time, butlay still among the gorse and bracken at his full length, his handsclasped behind his head. He gazed up into the grey sky with the look ofa man whose thoughts are deep and strange. But at last he rose, andpicking up his gun, shouldered it and strode forth on his way back toDunstan's Wolde, which was miles away. 

"Yes, " he said, speaking aloud to himself, "I will go back and followhis Grace of Marlborough for a while on his campaign--but in two years'time I will come back--to Gloucestershire--and see what time haswrought. "

But to Flanders he did not go, nor did my Lord Duke of Marlborough seehim for many a day, for Fate, which had so long steadily driven him, had ordained it otherwise. When he reached Dunstan's Wolde, on crossingthe threshold, something in the faces of the lacqueys about theentrance curiously attracted his attention. He thought each man heglanced at or spoke to looked agitated and as if there were that on hismind which so scattered his wits that he scarce knew how to choose hisspeech. The younger ones stammered and, trying to avoid his eye, seemedto step out of his view as hastily as possible. Those of maturer yearswore grave and sorrowful faces, and when, on passing through the greathall upon which opened the library and drawing-rooms he encountered thehead butler, the man started back and actually turned pale. 

"What has happened?" his lordship demanded, his wonder verging inalarm. "Something has come about, surely. What is it, man? Tell me! MyLord Dunstanwolde--"

The man was not one whose brain worked quickly. 'Twas plain he losthis wits, being distressed for some reason beyond measure. He steppedto the door of the library and threw it open. 

"My--my lord awaits your--your lordship--Grace, " and then in anuncertain and low voice he announced him in the following strangemanner:

"His--lordship--his Grace--has returned, my lord, " he said. 

And Roxholm, suddenly turning cold and pale himself, and seized upon bya horror of he knew not what, saw as in a dream my lord Dunstanwoldeadvancing towards him, his face ashen with woe, tears on his cheeks, his shaking hands outstretched as if in awful pity. 

"My poor Gerald, " he broke forth, one hand grasping his, one laid onhis shoulder. "My poor lad--God help me--that I am no more fit to breakto you this awful news. "

"For God's sake!" cried Gerald, and sank into the chair my lord drewhim to, where he sat himself down beside him, the tears rolling downhis lined cheeks. 

"Both--_both_ your parents!" he cried. "God give me words! Both--both!At Pisa where they had stopped--a malignant fever. Your motherfirst--and within twelve hours your father! Praise Heaven they were notparted. Gerald, my boy!"

My lord Marquess leaned forward, his elbow sank on his knee, hisforehead fell heavily upon his palm and rested there. He felt as if ablow had been struck upon his head, which he moved slowly, seeingnothing before him. 

"Both! Both!" he murmured. "The happiest woman in England! Have youbeen happy? I would hear you say it again--before I leave you! Ay, "shaking his head, "_that_ was why the poor fool said, 'Your Grace. '"

_CHAPTER XIV_

"_For all her youth--there is no other woman like her_"

They were brought back in state from Italy and borne to their belovedCamylott, to sleep in peace there, side by side; and the bells in thechurch-tower tolled long and mournfully, and in the five villages indifferent shires there was not a heart which did not ache--nor onewhich having faith did not know that somewhere their happy love livedagain and was more full of joy than it had been before. And my lordMarquess was my lord Duke; but for many months none beheld him but LordDunstanwolde, who came to Camylott with many great people to attend thefuneral obsequies; but when all the rest went away he stayed, andthrough the first strange black weeks the two were nearly alwaystogether, and often, through hours, walked in company from one end ofthe Long Gallery to the other. 

Over such periods of sorrow and bereavement it is well to pass gently, since they must come to all, and have so come through all the agespast, to every human being who has lived to maturity; and yet, at thesame time, there is none can speak truly for another than himself ofwhat the suffering has been or how it has been borne. None but the onewho bears it can know what hours of anguish the endurance cost and how'twas reached. 

My lord Duke looked pale in his mourning garments, and for many monthshis countenance seemed sharper cut, his eyes looking deeper set andlarger, having faint shadows round them, but even Lord Dunstanwoldeknew but few of his inmost thoughts, and to others he never spoke ofhis bereavement. 

The taking possession of a great estate, and the first assuming of theresponsibilities attached to it, are no small events, and bring uponthe man left sole heir numberless new duties, therefore the new Dukehad many occupations to attend to--much counselling with his legaladvisers, many interviews with stewards, bailiffs, and holders of hislands, visits to one estate after another, and converse with thereverend gentlemen who were the spiritual directors of his people. Suchduties gave him less time for brooding than he would have had upon hishands had he been a man more thoughtless of what his responsibilitiesimplied, and, consequently, more willing to permit them to devolve uponthose in his employ. 

"A man should himself know all things pertaining to his belongings, "the new Duke said to Lord Dunstanwolde, "and all those who serve himshould be aware that he knows, and that he will no more allow hisdependents to cheat or slight him than he himself will stoop tocarelessness or dishonesty in his dealings with themselves. To governwell, a man must be ruler as well as friend. "

And this he was to every man in his five villages, and those who hadworshipped him as their master's heir loved and revered him as theirmaster. 

The great Marlborough wrote a friendly letter expressing his sympathyfor him in the calamity by which he had been overtaken, and also hisregret at the loss of his services and companionship, he having at onceresigned his commission in the army on the occurrence of hisbereavement, not only feeling desirous of remaining in England, butfinding it necessary to do so. 

He spent part of the year upon his various estates in the country, butquarrels of Whigs and Tories, changes in the Cabinet, and the bitterfeeling against the march into Germany and the struggles which promisedto result, gave him work to do in London and opportunities for thedevelopment of those abilities his Grace of Marlborough had marked inhim. The air on all sides was heavy with storm--at Court the enemies ofDuchess Sarah (and they were many, whether they confessed themselves ornot) were prognosticating her fall from her high post of ruler of theQueen of England, and her lord from his pinnacle of fame; there werehigh Tories and Jacobites who did not fear to speak of the scaffold asthe last stage likely to be reached by the greatest military commanderthe country had ever known in case his march into Germany ended indisaster. There were indeed questions so momentous to be pondered overthat for long months my lord Duke had but little time for reflectionupon those incidents which had disturbed him by appearing to resultfrom the workings of persistent Fate. 

But in a locked cabinet in his private closet there lay a picture whichsometimes, as it were, despite himself, he took from its hiding-placeto look upon; and when he found himself gazing at the wondrous face ofstorm, with its great stag's eyes, he knew that the mere sight waked inhim the old tumult and that it did not lose its first strange, unexplained power. And once sitting studying the picture, his thoughtuttered itself aloud, his voice curiously breaking upon the stillnessof the room. 

"It is, " he said, "as if that first hour a deep chord of music had beenstruck--a stormy minor chord--and each time I hear of her or see herthe same chord is struck loud again, and never varies by a note. Iswear there is a question in her eyes--and I--I could answer it. Yet, for my soul's sake, I must keep away. "

He knew honour itself demanded this of him, for the stories which cameto his ears were each wilder and more fantastic than the other, andsometimes spoke strange evil of her--of her violent temper, of herwicked tongue, of her outraging of all customs and decencies, but, almost incredible as it seemed, none had yet proved that her highspirit and proud heart had been subjugated and she made victim by aconqueror. 'Twas this which was talked of at the clubs andcoffee-houses, where her name was known by those frequenting them. 

"She would be like a hare let loose to be hounded to her death by everypack in the county, " my Lord Twemlow had said the night he talked ofher at Dunstan's Wolde, and every man agreed with him and waited forthe outburst of a scandal, and made bets as to when it would breakforth. There were those among the successful heart-breakers whosevanity was piqued by the existence of so invincible and fantastical afemale creature, and though my lord Duke did not hear of it, theirworlds being far apart, the male beauty and rake, Sir John Oxon, wasamong them, his fretted pride being so well known among hisfellow-beaux that 'twas their habit to make a joke of it and taunt himwith their witticisms. 

"She is too big a devil, " they said, "to care a fig for any man. Shewould laugh in the face of the mightiest lady-killer in London, andflout him as if he were a mercer's apprentice or a plough-boy. He doesnot live who could trap her. "

With most of them, the noble sport of chasing women was their mostexalted pastime. They were like hunters on the chase of birds, the manwho brought down the rarest creature of the wildest spirit and thebrightest plumage was the man who was a hero for a day at least. 

The winter my lord Duke of Marlborough spent at Hanover, Berlin, Vienna, and the Hague, engaged in negotiations and preparations for hiscampaign, and at Vienna his Grace of Osmonde joined him that they mighttalk face to face, even the great warrior's composure being shaken bythe disappointment of the year. But a fortnight before his leavingEngland there came to Osmonde's ear rumours of a story fromGloucestershire--'twas of a nature more fantastic than any other, andfar more unexpected. The story was imperfectly told and without detail, and detail no man or woman seemed able to acquire, and baffledcuriosity ran wild, no story having so whetted it as this last. 

"But we shall hear later, " said one, "for 'tis said Jack Oxon wasthere, being on a visit to his kinsman, Lord Eldershawe, who has beenthe young lady's playmate from her childhood. Jack will come backprimed and will strut about for a week and boast of his fortuneswhether he can prove them or not. "

But this Osmonde did not hear, having already left town for a few daysat Camylott, where my Lord Dunstanwolde accompanied him, and at theweek's end they went together to Warwickshire, and as on the occasionof Osmonde's other visit, the first evening they were at the Wolde camemy Lord Twemlow, more excited than ever before, and he knew and toldthe whole story. 

"Things have gone from bad to worse, " he said, "and at last I sent myChaplain as I had planned, and the man came back frightened out of hiswits, having reached the hall-door in a panic and there found himselfconfronted by what he took to be a fine lad in hunting-dress making hisdog practise jumping tricks. And 'twas no lad, of course, but my finemistress in her boy's clothes, and she takes him to her father andmakes a saucy jest of the whole matter, tossing off a tankard of ale asshe sits on the table laughing at him and keeping Sir Jeoffry frombreaking his head in a rage. And in the end she sends an impudentmessage to me--but says I am right, the shrewd young jade, and that shewill see that no disgrace befalls me. But for all that, the Chaplaincame home in a cold sweat, poor fool, and knows not what to say when hespeaks of her. "

"And then?" said my Lord Dunstanwolde, somewhat anxiously, "is ittrue--that which we heard rumoured in town----"

Lord Twemlow shook his head ruefully. "Heaven knows how it will end, "he said, "or if it is but a new impudent prank--or what she will donext--but the whole country is agog with the story. She bade her fatherinvite his rapscallion crew to her birthnight supper, and says 'tisthat they may see her in breeches for the last time, for she will wearthem no more, but begin to live a sober, godly, and virtuous life andkeep a Chaplain of her own. And on the twenty-fourth night of November, she turning fifteen, they gather prepared for sport, and find herattired like a young prince, in pink satin coat and lace ruffles anddiamond buckles and powder; more impudent and handsome than since shewas born. And when the drinking sets in heavily, upon her chair shesprings and stands laughing at the company of them. 

"'Look your last on my fine shape, ' she cries, 'for after to-nightyou'll see no more of it. From this I am a fine lady, ' and sings a songand drinks a toast and breaks her glass on the floor and runs away. "

At a certain period of my Lord Twemlow's first story, the night he toldit, both his Lordship of Dunstanwolde and the then Marquess of Roxholmhad made unconscious movements as they heard--this had happened whenhad been described the falling of the mantle of black hair and thelittle oaths with which Mistress Clorinda had sat on her hunter bindingit up--and at this point--at this other picture of the audacious beautyand her broken glass each man almost started again--my LordDunstanwolde indeed suddenly rising and taking a step across thehearth. 

"What a story, " he said. "On my soul!"

"And 'tis not the end!" cried Lord Twemlow. "An hour she leaves themtalking of her, wondering what she plans to do, and then the door isflung wide open and there she stands--splendid in crimson and silverand jewels, with a diadem on her head, and servants holding lightsflaming above her. "

My Lord Dunstanwolde turned about and looked at him as if the movementwas involuntary, and Lord Twemlow ended with a blow upon the table, hiselderly face aflame with appreciation of the dramatic thing he told. 

"And makes them a great Court courtesy, " he cried, his voice growingalmost shrill, "and calls on them all to fall upon their knees, by God!'for so, ' she says, 'from this night all men shall kneel--all men onwhom I deign to cast my eyes. '"

His Grace the Duke of Osmonde had listened silently, and throughoutwith an impenetrable face, but at this moment he put up his hand andslightly swept his brow with his fingers, as if he felt it damp. 

"And now what does it mean?" my Lord Twemlow asked them, with ananxious face. "And how will it end? A fortnight later she appeared atchurch dressed like a lady of the Court, and attended by her sistersand their governess, as if she had never appeared unattended in herlife, and prayed, good Lord, with such a majestic seriousness, andlistened to the sermon with such a face as made the parson forget histext and fumble about for his notes in dire confusion. 'Twas thoughtshe might be going to play some trick to cause him to break down in themidst of his discourse. But she did not, and sailed out of church as ifshe had never missed a sermon since she was born. "

"Perhaps, " said my Lord Dunstanwolde, "perhaps her mind has changed and'tis true she intends to live more gravely. "

"Nay, " answered Lord Twemlow, with a troubled countenance. "No suchgood fortune. She doth not intend to keep it up--and how could she ifshe would? A girl who hath lived as she hath, seeing no decent companyand with not a woman about her--though for that matter they say shehas the eye of a hawk and the wit of a dozen women, and the will to doaught she chooses. But surely she could not keep it up!"

"Another woman could not, " said Osmonde. "A woman who had not a clear, strong brain and a wondrous determination--a woman who was weak or afool, or even as other women, could not. But surely--for all heryouth--there is no other woman like her. "

_CHAPTER XV_

"_And 'twas the town rake and beauty--Sir John Oxon_"

That night he lay almost till 'twas morning, his eyes open upon thedarkness, since he could not sleep, finding it impossible to controlthe thoughts which filled his mind. 'Twas a night whose still longhours he never could forget in the years that followed, and 'twas not amemory which was a happy one. He passed through many a curious phase ofthought, and more than once felt a pang of sorrow that he was now aloneas he had never thought of being, and that if suffering came, hissilent endurance of it must be a new thing. To be silent because onedoes not wish to speak is a different matter from being silent becauseone knows no creature dear and near enough to hear the story of one'strouble. He realised now that the tender violet eyes which death hadclosed would have wooed from his reserve many a thing it might havebeen good to utter in words. 

"She would always have understood, " he thought. "She understood whenshe cried out, 'It might have been!'"

He clasped his hands behind his head and lay so, smiling with mingledbitterness and joy. 

"It has begun!" he said. "I have heard them tell of it--of how onewoman's face came back again and again, of how one pair of eyes wouldlook into a man's and would not leave him, nor let him rest. It hasbegun for me, too. For good or evil, it has begun. "

Until this night he had told himself, and believed himself in thetelling, that he had been strangely haunted by thoughts of a strangecreature, because the circumstances by which she was encompassed wereso unusual and romantic as would have lingered in the mind of any manwhether old or young; and this he had been led to feel the moreconfident of, since he was but one of a dozen men, and indeed each onewho knew of her existence appeared to regard her as the heroine of aplay, though so far it was to them but a rattling comedy. But from thisnight he knew a different thing, and realised that he was face to facewith that mystery which all men do not encounter, some only meetingwith the mere fleeting image of it and never knowing what the realityis--that mystery which may be man's damnation or his heaven, historture and heart-sickening, or his life and strength and bliss. Whathis would bring to him, or bring him to, he knew not in the least, andhad at times a pang at thought of it, but sometimes such a surge of joyas made him feel himself twice man instead of once. 

When he went forth to ride the next day it was with a purpose clear inhis mind. Hitherto all he had seen or heard had been by chance, but ifhe saw aught this morning 'twould be because he had hoped for and goneto meet it. 

"Before I cross the sea, " was his thought, "I would see her once againif chance so favors me. I would see if there seems any new thing in herface, and if there is--if this is no wild jest and comedy, but meansthat she has wakened to knowing herself a woman--I shall know when Isee her eyes and can carry my thought away with me. Then when I comeback--'twill be but a few months at the most--I will ride intoGloucestershire the first week I am on English soil, and I will go toher and ask that I may be her servant until she learns what manner ofman I am and can tell me to go--or stay. "

If Sir Jeoffry and his crew had dreamed that such a thought worked inthe mind of one of the richest young noblemen in England--he a Duke andhandsome enough to set any woman's heart beating--as he rode throughthe Gloucestershire lanes; if they had dreamed that such a thing waswithin the bounds of human possibility, what a tumult would have beenroused among them; how they would have stared at each other, withmouths open, uttering exclamatory oaths of wild amazement and ecstatictriumph; how they would have exulted and drunk each other's healthsand their wild playmate's and her splendid fortunes. But, in truth, that such a thing could be, would have seemed to them as likely as thatQueen Anne herself should cast a gracious eye upon a poor, fox-hunting, country baronet who was one of her rustic subjects. The riot ofWildairs and its company was a far cry indeed from Camylott and St. James. 

If my Lord Twemlow had guessed at the possibility of the strange thing, and had found himself confronting a solution of his carking problemwhich would flood its past with brilliance and illuminate all itsfuture with refulgent light, casting a glow of splendour even over hisown plain country gentleman's existence, how he would have started andflushed with bewildered pride and rubbed his periwig awry in hisdelighted excitement. If my Lord Dunstanwolde, sitting at that hour inhis silent library, a great book open before him, his forehead on hisslender veined hand, his thoughts wandering far away, if he had beengiven by Fate an inkling of the truth which none knew or suspected, orhad reason for suspecting, perhaps he would have been the most startledand struck dumb of all--the most troubled and amazed and shocked. 

But of such a thing no one dreamed, as, indeed, why should they, and mylord Duke of Osmonde rode over the border into Gloucestershire on hisfine beast, and, trotting-up the roads and down the lanes, wore a lookupon his face which showed him deep in thought. 

'Twas a grey day, unbrightened by any sun. For almost a week there hadbeen rain, and the roads were heavy and the lanes muddy and full ofpools of miry water. 

It was the intention of my lord Duke to let his horse carry him oversuch roads and lands as would be in the near neighbourhood of Wildairs, and while he recognised the similarity of his action to that of aschool-boy in love, who paces the street before his sweetheart'sdwelling, there was no smile at himself, either on his countenance orin his mind. 

"I may see her, " he said quietly to himself. "I am more like to catchsight of her on these roads than on any other, and, school-boy trick ornot, 'twill serve, and if she passes will have won me what I longfor--for it is _longing_, this. I know it now, and own it to myself. "

And see her he did, but as is ever the case when a man has planned athing, it befell as he had not thought of its happening--and 'twas overin a flash. 

Down one of the wet lanes he had turned and was riding slowly when heheard suddenly behind him a horse coming at such a sharp gallop thathe wheeled his own beast aside, the way being dangerously narrow, thatso tempestuous a rider might tear by in safety. And as he turned andwas half screened by the bushes, the rider swept past him splashingthrough the mire and rain-pools so that the muddy water flew up beneaththe horses' hoofs--and 'twas the object of his thoughts herself!

She rode her tall young horse and was not clad as he had before beheldher, but in rich riding-coat and hat and sweeping feather. No maid ofhonour of her Majesty Queen Anne's rode attired more fittingly, nonecertainly with such a seat and spirit, and none, Heaven knew, lookedlike her. 

These things he marked in a flash, not knowing he had marked them untilafterwards, so strong and moving was his sudden feeling that in hernature at that moment there worked some strange new thing--some moodnew to herself and angering her. Her brows were bent, her eyes were setand black with shadow. She bit her full lip as she rode, and her horsewent like the wind. For but a moment she was through the lane andclattering on the road. 

My lord Duke was breathing fast and bit his own lip, but the nextsecond broke into a laugh, turning his horse, whose bridle he hadcaught up with a sudden gesture. 

"Nay, " he said, "a man cannot gallop after a lady without ceremony, andcommand her to stand and deliver as if he were a highwayman. Yet I waswithin an ace of doing it--within an ace. I have beheld her! I had bestride back to Dunstan's Wolde. "

And so he did, at a hot pace; but if he had chanced to turn on the topof the hill he might have seen below him in a lane to the right thattwo rode together, and one was she whom he had but just seen, hercompanion a horseman who had leapt a gate in a field and joined her, with flushed cheeks and wooing eyes, though she had frowned--and 'twasthe town rake and beauty, Sir John Oxon. 

_CHAPTER XVI_

_A Rumour_

Through the passing of two years Osmonde's foot did not press Englishsoil again, and his existence during that period was more vivid andchangeful than it had ever been before. He saw Ramillies followBlenheim, great Marlborough attain the height of renown, and FrenchLouis's arrogant ambitions end in downfall and defeat. Life in bothcamp and Court he knew at its highest tension, brilliant scenes hebeheld, strange ones, wicked ones, and lived a life so eventful andfull of motion and excitement that there were few men who through itspicturesque adventures would have been like to hold in mind one imageand one thought. Yet this he did, telling himself that 'twas thethought which held him, not he the thought, it having been proven inthe past 'twas one which would not have released him from its dominioneven had he been inclined to withdraw himself from it. And this he wasnot. Nature had so built him, that on the day when he had found himselfsaying, "In two years' time I will come back to Gloucestershire and seewhat time has wrought, " he had reached a point from which there was noretreating. Through many an hour in time past there had been turmoil inhis mind, but in a measure, at least, this ended the uncertainties, andwas no rash outburst but a resolve. It had not been made lightly, buthad been like a plant which had grown from a seed, long hidden in darkearth and slowly fructifying till at last summer rain and warming sunhad caused it to burst forth from its prison, a thing promising fullfruit and flower. For long he had not even known the seed was in thesoil; he had felt its stirrings before he had believed in itsexistence, and then one day the earth had broke and he had seen itslife and known what its strength might be. 'Twould be of wondrousstrength, he knew, and of wondrous beauty if no frost should blight norstorm uproot it. 

In its freedom from all tendency to plaything-sentiments and trivialromances, his youth had been unlike the youth of other men. Being manand young, he had known temptation, but had disdained it; being alsoproud and perhaps haughty in his fastidiousness, and being strong, hehad thrust base and light things aside. He had held in his brain afancy from his boyhood, and singularly enough it had but grown strongerand become more fully formed with his own strength and increase ofyears. 'Twas a strange fancy indeed to fit the time he lived in, but'twas his choice. The woman whose eyes held the answer to the questionhis own soul asked, and whose being asked the question to which his ownreplied, would bring great and deep joy to him--others did not count inhis existence--and for her he had waited and longed, sometimes sofiercely, that he wondered if he was in the wrong and but following ahaunting, mocking dream. 

"You are an epicure, Osmonde, " his Grace of Marlborough said more thanonce, for he had watched and studied him closely. "Not an anchorite butan epicure. "

"Yes, " answered Osmonde, "perhaps 'tis that. Any man can love a scoreof women--most men do--but there are few who can love but one, as Ishall, if--" and the words came slowly--"if I ever find her. "

"You may not, " remarked his Grace. 

"I may not, " said Osmonde, and he smiled his faint, grim smile. 

He could not have sworn when he returned to the Continent that he hadfound her absolutely at last. Her body he had found, but herself he hadnot approached nearly enough to know. But this thing he realised, thateven in the mad stories he had heard, when they had been divested oftheir madness, the chief figure in them had always stood out an honest, strong, fair thing, dwarfed by no petty feminine weakness, nor follies, nor spites. Rules she broke, decorums she defied, but in such manneras hurt none but herself. She played no tricks and laid no plots forvengeance, as she might well have done; she but went her daring, lawless way, with her head up and her great eyes wide open; and 'twasher fearless frankness and just, clear wit which moved him more thanaught else, since 'twas they which made him feel that 'twas not aloneher splendid body commanded love, but a spirit which might mate with astrong man's and be companion to his own. His theories of womankind, which were indeed curiously in advance of his age, were such asdemanded great things, and not alone demanded, but also gave them. 

"A man and woman should not seem beings of a different race--the oneall strength, the other all weakness, " was his thought. "They shouldgaze into each other's eyes with honest, tender human passion, which issurely a great thing, as nature made it. Each should know the other'slove, and strength, and honour may be trusted through death--orlife--themselves. 'Tis not a woman's love is won by pretty gallantries, nor a man's by flattering weak surrender. Love grows from a greaterthing, and should be as compelling--even in the higher, finer thingwhich thinks--as is the roar of the lion in the jungle to his mate, andher glad cry which answers him. "

And therefore, at last he had said to himself that this beauteous, strong, wild thing surely might be she who would answer him one day, and he held his thoughts of her in check no more, nor avoided thespeech he heard of her, and indeed, with adroitness which neverbetrayed itself through his reserve of bearing, at times encouraged it;and in a locked drawer in his apartments, wheresoever he travelled, there lay always the picture with the stormy, yearning eyes. 

From young Tantillion he could, without any apparent approach atquestioning, hear such details of Gloucestershire life in theneighbourhood of Wildairs as made him feel that he was not farseparated from that which his mind dwelt on. Little Lady Betty, havingentered the world of fashion, was more voluminous in her correspondencethan ever, the more especially as young Langton appeared to her a verypretty fellow, and he being Tom's confidant, was likely to hear herletters read, or at least be given extracts from them. Her causticcondemnation of the fantastical Mistress Clo had gradually lapsed intoa doubtful wonder, which later became open amaze not untinged with apretty spitefulness and resentment. 

"'Tis indeed a strange thing, and one to make one suspicious of her, Thomas, " she wrote, "with all her bold ways, to suddenly put on suchdecorum. We are all sure 'tis from some cunning motive, and wait tofind out what she will be at next. At first none believed she wouldhold out or would know how to behave herself, but Lud! if you could seeher I am sure, Tom, both you and Mr. Langton would be disgusted by hermajestic airs. Being dressed in woman's clothing she is taller thanever, and so holds her chin and her eyes that it makes any modist womanmad. If she was a Duchess at Court she could not be more stately thanshe now pretends she is (for of course it is pretence, as anyoneknows). She has had the vile cunningness to stop her bad langwidg, asif she had never swore an oath in her life (such deseatfulness!). Andnone can tell where she hath learned her manners, for if you willbeleave the thing, 'tis said she never makes a blunder, but can sweep agreat curtsey and sail about a saloon full of company as if she wasbred to it, and can dance a minuet and bear herself at a feast in a wayto surprise you. Lady Maddon says that women who are very vile andundeserving are sometimes wickedly clever, and can pick up modistwomen's manners wondrously, but they always break out before long andare more indecent than ever; and you may mark my Lady Maddon's words, she says this one will do the same, but first she is playing a part andrestraining herself that she may deseave some poor gentleman and traphim into marrying her. It makes Lady Maddon fall into a passion totalk of her, and she will flush quite red and talk so fast, but indeedafter I see the creature or hear some new story of her impudentvictories, I fall into a passion myself--for, Tom, _no human being canput her in her place_. "

It must be confessed that the attitude of the recipient of theseletters was by no means a respectful one, they being read and re-readwith broad grins and frequent outbursts of roaring laughter, ending inderisive or admiring comments, even Bob Langton, who had no objectionto pretty Lady Betty's oglings and summing of him as a dangerous beau, breaking forth into gleeful grinning himself. 

"Hang me if some great nobleman won't marry her, " cried Tom, "and afine lady she'll make, too! Egad, it almost frightens one, for all thejoke of it, to think of a woman who can do such things--to be a madderromp than any and suddenly to will that she will change in such a way, and hold herself firm and be beat by naught. 'Tis scarce human. Betsays that her kinsman, my Lord Twemlow, has took her in hand and is asproud of her and as fidgety as some match-making mother. And the countypeople who would not have spoke to her a year ago, have begun to visitWildairs and invite her to their houses, for all the men are wildafter her, and the best way to make an entertainment a fine thing is tolet it be known that she will grace it. Even Sir Jeof and his croniesare taken in because they shine in her glory and are made decent byit. "

"They say, too, " cried Bob Langton, "that she makes them all behavethemselves, telling them that unless their manners are decent theycannot follow her to the fine houses she is bid to--and she puts themthrough a drill and cuts off their drink and their cursings and wickedstories. And Gloucestershire and Warwickshire and Worcestershire areall agog with it!"

"And they follow her like slaves, " added Tantillion, in an ecstacy, "and stand about with their mouths open to stare at her swimming thoughher minuets with bowing worshippers, and oh! Roxholm--nay, I should sayOsmonde; but how can a man remember you are Duke instead ofMarquis?--'tis told that in the field in her woman's hat andhunting-coat she is handsomer than ever. Even my Lord Dunstanwolde hasrode to the meet to behold her, and admires her as far as a soberelderly gentleman can. "

That my Lord Dunstanwolde admired her, Osmonde knew. His rare letterstold a grave and dignified gentleman's version of the story and spokeof it with kindly courtesy and pleasure in it. It had proved that thechange which had come over her had been the result of no caprice ormischievous spirit but of a reasonable intention, to which she had beenfaithful with such consistency of behaviour as filled the gossips andonlookers with amazement. 

"'Tis my belief, " said the kindly nobleman, "that being in truth anoble creature, though bred so wildly, the time came when she realisedherself a woman, and both wit and heart told her that 'twas morehonourable to live a woman's life and not a madcap boy's. And herintellect being of such vigour and fineness, she can execute what herthought conceives. "

Among the gentlemen who were her courtiers there was much talk of thefashionable rake Sir John Oxon, who, having appeared at her birthnightsupper, had become madly enamoured of her, and had stayed in thecountry at Eldershawe Park and laid siege to her with all his forcesand with much fervour of feeling besides. 'Twas a thing well known thatthis successful rake had never lost his heart to a woman in his lifebefore, and that his victims had all been snared by a part played tovillanous perfection; but 'twas plain enough that at last he had met awoman who had set that which he called his soul on fire. He could nottear himself away from the country, though the gayeties of the townwere at their highest. When in her presence his burning blue eyesfollowed her every movement, and when she treated him disdainfully heturned pale. 

"But she leaves him no room for boasting, " related young Tantillion. "He may worship as any man may, but she shows no mercy to any, and himshe treats with open scorn when he languishes. He grows thin and paleand is half-crazed with his passion for her. "

There is no man who has given himself up to a growing passion and hasnot yet revealed it, who does not pass through many an hour of unrest. How could it be otherwise? In his absence from the object of hisfeeling every man who lives is his possible rival, every woman hispossible enemy, every event a possible obstacle in the way to that heyearns for. And from this situation there is nothing which can save aman. He need not be a boy or a fool to be tormented despite himself;the wisest and gravest are victims to these fits of heat and cold ifthey have modesty and know somewhat of the game of chance called Life. What may not happen to a castle left undefended; what may not befilched from coffers left unlocked? This is the history of a man who, despite the lavishness of Fortune and the gifts she had poured forthbefore him, was of a stately humility. That he was a Duke and of greatestate, that he had already been caressed by the hand of Fame and hadbeen born more stalwart and beautiful than nine men of ten, did not, to his mind, make sure for him the love of any woman whom he had notserved and won. He was of no meek spirit, but he had too much wit andtoo great knowledge of the chances of warfare not to know that inlove's campaign, as in any other, a man must be on the field if hewould wield his sword. 

So my lord Duke had his days of fret and restlessness as less fortunatemen have them, and being held on the Continent by duties he hadundertaken in calmer moments, lay sometimes awake at night reproachinghimself that he had left England. Such hours do not make a man growcooler, and by the time the second year had ripened, the months werelong indeed. Well as he had thought he knew himself, there were timeswhen the growth of this passion which possessed him awaked in himsomewhat of wonder. 'Twas for one with whom he had yet never exchangedword or glance, a creature whose wild youth seemed sometimes a centuryaway from him. There had been so many others who had crossed hispath--great beauties and small ones--but only to this one had his beingcried out aloud. 

"It has begun, " he had said to himself. "I have heard them tell ofit--of how one woman's face came back to a man again and again, of howher eyes would look into his and would not leave him or let him rest. It has begun for me, too. "

He had grave duties to perform, affairs of serious import to arrange, interviews to hold with great personages and small, and though nonemight read it in his bearing he found himself ever beholding this face, ever followed by the eyes which would not leave him and which, had theydone so, would have left him to the dark. Yet this was hid within hisown breast and was his own strange secret which he gave himself up todwell upon but when he was alone. When he awakened in the morning helay and thought of it and counted that a day had passed and anotherbegun, and found himself pondering, as all those in his case do, on theevents of the future and the incidents which would lead him to them. Atnight, sometimes in long rides or walks he took alone, he lived theseincidents through and imagined he beheld her as she would look whenthey first met, as she would look when he told her his purpose incoming to her. If he pleased her, his fancy pictured him the warm flashof her large eye, the smile of her mouth, half-proud, half-tender, alook which even when but imagined made his pulses beat. 

"I do not know her face well enough, " he said, "to picture all thebeauteous changes of it, but there will sure be a thousand which a manmight spend a life of love in studying. "

Among the many who passed hours in his company at this time, there wasbut one who guessed, even distantly, at what lay at the root of hisbeing, and this was the man who, being in a measure of like nature withhis own, had been in the same way possessed when deep passion came tohim. 

At this period his Grace of Marlborough already felt the tossings ofthe rising storm in England, and the emotions which his Duchess'sletters aroused within him, her anger at the intrigues about her, hertigress love for and belief in him, her determination to defend anduphold him with all the powers of her life and strength and imperialspirit, were, it is probable, moving and stimulating things which puthim in the mood to be keen of sight and sympathy. 

"There dwells some constant thought in your mind, my lord Duke, " hesaid, on a night in which they sate together alone. "Is it a new one?"

"No, " Osmonde answered; "'twould perhaps not be so constant if it were. It is an old thought which has taken a new form. In times past"--hisvoice involuntarily falling a tone--"I did not realise its presence. "

The short silence which fell was broken by the Duke and with somesuddenness. 

"Is it one of which you would rid yourself?" he asked. 

"No, your Grace. "

"Tis well, " gravely, "You could not--if you would. "

He asked no further question, but went on as if in deep thought, ratherreflecting aloud. 

"There are times, " he said, "when to some it is easy and natural to saythat such fevers are folly and unreasonableness--but even to those soslightly built by nature, and of memories so poor, such times do notcome, nor can be dreamed of, when they are passing _through_ thefurnace fires. They come after--or before. "

Osmonde did not speak. He raised his eyes and met those of hisillustrious companion squarely, and for a short space each looked intothe soul of the other, it so seemed, though not a word was spoke. 

"You did not say the thing before, " the Duke commented at last. "Youwill not say it after. "

"No, I shall not, " answered Osmonde, and somewhat later he added, withflushed cheek, "I thank your Grace for your comprehension of anunspoken thing. "

Distant as he was from Gloucestershire there seemed a smiling fortunein the chances by which his thought was fed. What time had wrought heheard as time went on--that her graces but developed with opportunity, that her wit matched her beauty, that those who talked gossip askedeach other in these days, not what disgrace would be her downfall, butwhat gentleman of those who surrounded her, paying court, would be mostlikely to be smiled upon at last. From young Tantillion he heard suchthings, from talkative young officers back after leave of absence, andmore than once from ladies who, travelling from England to reachforeign gayeties, brought with them the latest talk of the country aswell as of the town. 

From the old Lady Storms, whom he encountered in Vienna, he heard morethan from any other. She had crossed the Channel with her Chaplain, herspaniel, her toady, and her parrot, in search of enlivenment for herdeclining years, and hearing that her Apollo Belvidere was withinreach, sent a message saying she would coax him to come and make loveto an old woman, who adored him as no young one could, and whose timehung heavy on her hands. 

He went to her because she was a kindly, witty old woman, and hadalways avowed an affection for him, and when he arrived at her lodgingshe found her ready to talk by the hour. All the gossip of the Court sheknew, all the marriages being made or broken off, all the publicstories of her Grace of Marlborough's bullyings of her Majesty andrevilings of Mrs. Masham, and many which were spiced by being privateand new. And as she chattered over her dish of chocolate and my lordDuke listened with the respect due her years, he knew full well thather stories would not be brought to a close without reachingGloucestershire at last--or Warwickshire or Worcester, or even Berks orWilts, where she would have heard some romance she would repeat to him;for in truth it ever seemed that it must befall so when he met andtalked with man or woman who had come lately from England, Ireland, orWales. 

And so it did befall, but this time 'twas neither Gloucestershire, Worcester, Warwick, nor Berks she had visited or entertained guestsfrom, but plain, lively town gossip she repeated apropos of Sir JohnOxon, whose fortunes seemed in evil case. In five years' time he hadsquandered all his inheritance, and now was in such straits through hiscreditors that it seemed plain his days of fashionable wild living andpopularity would soon be over, and his poor mother was using all herwits to find him a young lady with a fortune. 

"And in truth she found him one, two years ago, " her Ladyship added, "aWest Indian heiress, but at that time he was dangling after the wildGloucestershire beauty and was mad for her. What was her name? I forgetit, though I should not. But she was disdainful and treated him soscornfully that at last they quarrelled--or 'twas thought so--for heleft the country and hath not been near her for months. Good Lord!" ofa sudden; "is not my Lord Dunstanwolde your Grace's distant kinsman?"

"My father's cousin twice removed, your Ladyship, " answered Osmonde, wondering somewhat at the irrelevance of the question. 

"Then you will be related to the fantastic young lady too, " she said, "if his lordship is successful in his elderly suit. "

"His lordship?" queried Osmonde; "his lordship of Dunstanwolde?"

"Yes, " said the old woman, in great good humour, "for he is more inlove than all the rest. Faith, a man must be in love if he will hear'No' twice said to him when he is sixty-five and then go back to kneeland plead again. "

My lord Duke rose from his seat to set upon the table near by hischocolate-cup. Months later he remembered how mad the tale had seemedto him, and that there had been in his mind no shadow of belief in it;even that an hour after it had, in sooth, passed from his memory andbeen forgotten. 

"'Tis a strange rumour, your Ladyship, " he said. "For myself I do notcredit it, knowing of my lord's early loss and his years of mourningthrough it. "

"'Tis for that reason all the neighbourhood is agog, " answered my lady. "But 'tis for that reason I give it credit. These men who haveworshipped a woman once can do it again. And this one--Lud! they say, she is a witch and no man resists her. "

A few days later came a letter from my Lord Dunstanwolde himself, whohad not writ from England for some time, and in the midst of hisepistle, which treated with a lettered man's thoughtful interest of thenews of both town and country, of Court and State, playhouse and club, there was reference to Gloucestershire and Mistress Clorinda ofWildairs Hall. 

"In one of our past talks, Gerald, " he wrote, "you said you thoughtoften of the changes time might work in such a creature. You are givento speculative thought and spoke of the wrong the past had done her, and of your wonder if the strength of her character and the clearnessof her mind might not reveal to her what the untoward circumstances ofher life had hidden, and also lead her to make changes none hadbelieved possible. Your fancies were bolder than mine. You are astronger man than I, Gerald, though a so much younger one; you have agreater spirit and a far greater brain, and your reason led you to seepossibilities I could not picture. In truth, in those days I regardedthe young lady with some fear and distaste, being myself sober andelderly. But 'tis you who were right. The change in her is indeed awondrous one, but that I most marvel at is that I mark in her acurious gentleness, which grows. She hath taken under protection hersister Mistress Anne, a humble creature whose existence none haveseemed previously aware of. The poor gentlewoman is timid and uncomely, but Mistress Clorinda shows an affection for her she hath shown to noneother. But yesterday she said to me a novel thing in speaking ofher--and her deep eyes, which can flash forth such lightnings, weresoft as if dew were hid in them--'Why was all given to me, ' saith she, 'and naught to her? Since Nature was not fair, then let me try to beso. She is good, she is innocent, she is helpless. I would learn ofher. Innocence one cannot learn, and helpless I shall never be, yetwould I learn of her. ' She hath a great, strange spirit, Gerald, andstrange fearlessness of thought. What other woman dare arraign Nature'sself, and command mankind to retrieve her cruelties?"

Having finished his reading, my lord Duke turned to his window andlooked out upon the night, which was lit to silver by the moon, whichflooded the broad square before him and the park beyond it till 'twaslost in the darkness of the trees. 

"No other woman--none, " he said--and such a tumult shook his soul thatof a sudden he stretched forth his arms unknowing of the movement andspoke as though to one close at hand. "Great God!" he said, low andpassionate, "you call me, you call me! Let me but look into youreyes--but answer me with yours--and all of Life is ours!"

_CHAPTER XVII_

_As Hugh de Mertoun Rode_

When he rode back upon the road which led towards Gloucestershire, 'twas early June again, as it had been when he journeyed to Camylottwith Mr. Fox attending. The sky was blue once more, there was the scentof sweet wild things in the air, birds twittered in the hedgerows andskylarks sang on high; all was in full fair leafage and full fair life. This time Mr. Fox was not with him, he riding alone save for hisservants, following at some distance, for in truth 'twas his wish to besolitary, and he rode somewhat like a man in a dream. 

"There is no land like England, " he said, "there are no such meadowselsewhere, no such hedgerows, no such birds, and no such soft fleecedwhite clouds in the blue sky. " In truth, it seemed so to him, as itseems always to an Englishman returning from foreign lands. Thethatched cottages spoke of homely comfort, the sound of the villagechurch bells was like a prayer, the rustics, as they looked up fromwork in the fields to pull their forelocks as he rode by them, seemedto wear kindlier looks upon their sunburnt faces than he had seen inother countries. 

"But, " he said to himself, and smiled in saying it, "it is because I ama happy man, and am living like one who dreams. Men have ridden beforeon such errands. Hugh de Mertoun rode so four hundred years gone, to agrey castle in the far north of Scotland, to make his suit to a fairmaiden whose beauties he had but heard rumour of and whose face he hadnever seen. He rode through a savage country, and fought his way to heragainst axe and spear. But when he reached her she served him in herfather's banquet hall, and in years after used to kiss the scars leftby his wounds, and sing at her harp the song of his journey to woo her. But he had not known her since the time of her birth, and been hauntedby her until her womanhood. "

To Dunstan's Wolde in Warwickshire he rode, where he was to be a guest, and sometimes he reproached himself that he was by natural habit ofsuch reserve that in all their converse together he had never felt thathe could speak his thoughts to his kinsman on the one subject they haddwelt most upon. During the last two years he had realised how fewwords he had uttered on this subject even in the days before he hadknown the reason for his tendency to silence. At times whenDunstanwolde had spoken with freedom and at length of circumstanceswhich attracted the comments of all, he himself had been morefrequently listener than talker, and had been wont to sit in attentivesilence, making his reflections later to himself when he was alone. After the day on which he had lost himself upon Sir ChristopherCrowell's land and, lying among the bracken, had heard the talk of thesportsmen below, he had known why he had been so reticent, and duringhis last two years he had realised that this reticence had butincreased. Despite his warm love for my Lord Dunstanwolde there hadnever come an hour when he felt that he could have revealed even by themost distant allusion the tenor of his mind. In his replies to hislordship's occasional epistles he had touched more lightly upon hisreferences to the household of Wildairs than upon other things of lessmoment to him. Of Court stories he could speak openly, of country, town, and letters, with easy freedom, but when he must acknowledge newsfrom Gloucestershire, he sate grave before his paper, his pen idle inhis hand, and found but few sentences to indite. 

"But later, " he would reflect, "I shall surely feel myself moreopen--and his kind heart is so full of sympathy that he will understandmy silence and not feel it has been grudging or ungenerous to his noblefriendship. "

And even now as he rode to the home of this gentleman whose affectionhe had enjoyed with so much of appreciation and gratitude, he consoledhimself again with this thought, knowing that the time had not yet comewhen he could unbosom himself, nor would it come until all the worldmust be taken into his confidence, and he stand revealed an exultantman whose joy broke all bonds for him since that he had dreamed of hehad won. 

When he had made his last visit to Warwickshire he had thought my lordlooking worn and fatigued, and had fancied he saw some hint of newtrouble in his eyes. He had even spoke with him of his fancy, trustingthat he had no cause for anxiousness and was not in ill-health, and hadbeen answered with a kindly smile, my lord averring that he had no newthing to weary him, but only one which was old, with which he had bornemore than sixty years, and which was somewhat the worse for wear inthese days--being himself. 

He thought of this reply as he passed through the lovely village whereevery man, woman, and child knew him and greeted him with warmlywelcoming joy, and he was pondering on it as he rode through the parkgates and under the big beech-trees which formed the avenue. 

"Somewhat had saddened him, " he thought. "Pray God it has passed, " andwas aroused from his thinking by a sound of horses' feet, and lookingup saw my lord cantering towards him on his brown hackney, and withbrightly smiling face. 

They greeted each other with joyful affection, as they always did inmeeting, and my lord's welcome had a touch of even more loving warmththan usual. He had come out to meet his guest and kinsman on the road, and had thought to be in time to join him earlier and ride with himthrough the village. 

"On my soul, Gerald, " he said, gaily, "'tis useless that you shouldgrow handsomer and taller each time you leave us. Surely, there is atime for a man to be content. Or is it that when you are absent onesees gentlemen of proportions so much more modest that when you returnwe must get used to your looks again. Your sunburn is as becoming asyour laurels. "

His own worn look had passed. Osmonde had never seen him so well andvigorous, being indeed amazed by his air of freshness and renewedyouth. His finely cut, high bred countenance had gained a slightcolour, his sweet grey eyes were clear and full of light, and he borehimself more strongly and erect. For the first time within hisremembrance of him, my lord Duke observed that he wore another colourthan black, though it was of rich, dark shade, being warm, deep brown, and singularly becoming him, his still thick grey hair framing insilver his fine, gentle face. 

"And you, " Osmonde answered him, marking all these things withaffectionate pleasure, "your weariness has left you. I have never seenyou look so young and well. "

"Young!" said my lord, smiling, "at sixty-eight? Well, in truth, I feelso. Let us pray it may not pass. 'Tis hope--which makes new summer. "

They dined alone, and sitting over their wine had cheerful talk. A manis not absent from his native land for two good years, even when theyare spent in ordinary travel, without on his return having much torecount in answer to the questionings of his friends; but two yearsspent in camp and Court during a great campaign may furnish hours oftalk indeed. 

Yet though their conversation did not flag, and each found pleasure inthe other's company, Osmonde was conscious of a secret restlessness. Throughout the whole passing of the repast it chanced not once that thename was mentioned which had so often been spoke before when they hadbeen together; there had been a time when in no talk of theneighbourhood could it well have been avoided, but now, strangelyenough, no new incident was related, no reference to its bearer made. This might, perhaps, be because the heroine of that scandal, havingbegun to live the ordinary life of womankind, there were no fantasticstories to tell, the county having had time to become accustomed to thechange in her and comment on it no more. And still there was asingularity in the silence. Yet for my lord Duke himself it wasimpossible to broach the subject, he being aware that he was not calmenough in mind to open it with a composure which would not betray hisinterest. 

He had come from town under promise to attend that night a birthdayball in the neighbourhood, a young relative coming of age andcelebrating his majority. The kinship was not close, but greatly valuedby the family of the heir, and his Grace's presence had been soardently desired, that he, who honoured all claims of his house andname, had given his word. 

And 'twas at last through speech of this, and only as they parted toapparel themselves for this festivity, my Lord Dunstanwolde touchedupon the thing one man of them, at least, had not had power to banishfrom his mind throughout their mutual talk. 

"Young Colin is a nice, well-meaning lad, " said my lord as they passedthrough the hall to mount the staircase. "He is plain featured andawkward, but modest and of good humour. He will be greatly honouredthat the hero of his house should be present on the great night. You_are_ the hero, you know, having been with Marlborough, and bearingstill the scar of a wound got at Blenheim, though 'twas 'not as deep asa grave or as wide as a church door. ' And with orders on your broadchest and the scent of gunpowder in your splendid periwig you will makea fine figure. They will all prostrate themselves before you, and whenyou make your state bow to the beauty, Mistress Clorinda--for you willsee her--she will surely give you a dazzling smile. "

"That I will hope for, " answered my lord Duke, smiling himself; but hisheart leaped like a live thing in his breast and did not cease itsleaping as he mounted the stairway, though he bore himself with outwardcalm. 

When within his room he strode to and fro, his arms folded across hisbreast. For some time he could not have composed himself to sit down orgo to rest. This very night, then, he was to behold her face to face;in but a few hours he would stand before her bowing, and rise from hisobeisance to look into the great eyes which had followed him solong--ay, so much longer than he had truly understood. What should heread there--what thought which might answer to his own? It had been hisplan to go to my Lord Twemlow and ask that he might be formallypresented to his fair kinswoman and her parent. Knowing his mind, hewas no schoolboy who would trust to chance, but would move directly andwith dignity towards the object he desired. The representatives of herfamily would receive him, and 'twas for himself to do the rest. Butnow he need go to no man to ask to be led to her presence. The merechance of Fortune would lead him there. 'Twas strange how it had everbeen so--that Fate's self had seemed to work to this end. 

The chamber was a huge one and he had paced its length many timesbefore he stopped and stood in deep thought. 

"'Tis sure because of this, " he said, "that I have so little doubt. There lies scarce a shadow yet in my mind. 'Tis as if Nature had soordained it before I woke to life, and I but go to obey her law. "

His eye had fallen upon a long mirror standing near, but he did not seewhat was reflected there, and gazed through and beyond it as if atanother thing. And yet the image before him was one which might haveremoved doubt of himself from any man's heart, it being of suchgracious height and manly strength, and, with its beauteous leonine eyeand brow, its high bearing, and the richness of its apparel, so noble apicture. 

He turned away unseeing, with a smile and half a sigh of deep andtender passion. "May I ride home, " he said, "as Hugh de Mertoundid--four hundred years ago!"

When they arrived at their entertainer's house the festivities were atfull; brilliant light shone from every window and streamed from thewide entrance in a flood, coaches rolled up the avenue and waited forplace before the door, from within strains of music floated out to thedarkness of the night, and as the steps were mounted each arrivalcaught glimpses of the gay scene within: gentlemen in velvet andbrocade and ladies attired in all the rich hues of a bed offlowers--crimson, yellow, white and blue, purple and gold and rose. 

Their young host met them on the threshold and welcomed them withboyish pride and ardour. He could scarce contain himself for pleasureat being so honoured in his first hospitalities by the great kinsman ofhis house, who, though but arrived at early maturity, was alreadyspoken of as warrior, statesman, and honoured favourite at Court. 

"We are but country gentry, your Grace, " he said, reddening boyishly, when he had at length led them up the great stairway to the ball-room, "and most of us have seen little of the world. As for me, I have butjust come from Cambridge, where I fear I did myself small credit. In myfather's day we went but seldom to town, as he liked horses and dogsbetter than fine company. So I know nothing of Court beauties, butto-night--" and he reddened a little more and ended somewhatawkwardly--"to-night you will see here a beauty who surely cannot beoutshone at Court, and men tell me cannot be matched there. "

"'Tis Mistress Clorinda Wildairs he speaks of, " said Sir ChristopherCrowell, who stood near, rubicund in crimson, and he said it with anuncourtly wink; "and, ecod! he's right--though I am not 'a town man. '"

"He is enamoured of her, " he added in proud confidence later when hefound himself alone for a moment by his Grace. "The youngsters are allso--and men who are riper, too. Good Lord, look at me who have dandledher on my knee when she was but five years old--and am her slave, "chuckling. "She's late to-night. Mark the fellows loitering about thedoors and on the stairway. 'Tis that each hopes to be the first tocatch her eye. "

'Twas but a short time afterward my lord Duke had made his way to thegrand staircase himself, it being his intention to go to a lower room, and reaching the head of it he paused for a moment to gaze at thebrilliant scene. The house was great and old, and both halls andstairway of fine proportions, and now, brilliant with glow of light andthe moving colour of rich costumes, presented indeed a comely sight. And he had no sooner paused to look down than he heard near by a murmurof low exclamation, and close at his side a man broke forth in roughecstacy to his companion. 

"Clorinda, by Gad!" he said, "and crowned with roses! The vixen makesthem look as if they were built of rubies in every leaf. "

And from below she came--up the broad stairway, upon her father's arm. 

Well might their eyes follow her indeed, and well might his own lookdown upon her, burning. The strange compellingness of her power, whichwas a thing itself apart from beauty, and would have ruled for her hadshe not possessed a single charm, had so increased that he felt himselfchange colour at the mere sight of her. Oh! 'twas not the colour andheight and regal shape of her which were her splendour, but this oneHeaven-born, unconquerable thing. Her lip seemed of a deeper scarlet, the full roundness of her throat rose from among her laces, bound witha slender circlet of glittering stars, her eyes had grown deeper andmore melting, and yet held a great flame. Nay, she seemed a flameherself--of life, of love, of spirit which naught could daunt or quell, and on her high-held imperial head she wore a wreath of roses red asblood. 

"She will look up, " he thought, "she will look up at me. "

But she did not, though he could have sworn that which he felt shouldhave arrested her. Somewhat seemed to hold her oblivious of those whowere near her; she gazed straight before her as if expecting to seesomething, and as she passed my lord Duke on the landing, a heavyvelvet rose broke from her crown and fell at his very foot. 

He bent low to pick it up, the blood surging in his veins--and when heraised himself, holding it in his hand, she was moving onward throughthe crowd which closed behind to gaze and comment on her--and hiskinsman Dunstanwolde came forward from an antechamber, his gentle, highbred face and sweet grey eyes glowing with greeting. 

Those of reflective habit may indeed find cause for thought inrealising the power of small things over great, of rule over importantevents, of ordinary social observance over the most powerful emotion aman or woman may be torn or uplifted by. He whose greatest longing onearth is to speak face to face to the friend whom ill fortune hascaused to think him false, seeing this same friend in a crowded streeta hundred yards distant, cannot dash the passers-by aside and racethrough or leap over them to reach, before it is too late, the belovedobject he beholds about to disappear; he cannot arrest that object withloud outcries, such conduct being likely to cause him to be taken for amadman, and restrained by the other lookers-on; the tender woman whoseheart is breaking under the weight of misunderstanding between herselfand him she loves, is powerless to attract and detain him if he passesher, either unconscious of her nearness or of intention coldly avertinghis gaze from her pleading eyes. She may know that, once havingcrossed the room where she sits in anguish, all hope is lost that theymay meet again on this side of the grave. She may know that a dozenwords would fill his heart with joy, and that all life would smile toboth henceforth, but she cannot force her way to his side in public;she cannot desert without ceremony the stranger who is conversingcourteously; she cannot cry out, she may not even speak, it may be thatit is not possible that she should leave her place--and he who is herheart's blood approaches slowly--is near--has passed--is gone--and allhas come to bitter, cruel end. In my lord Duke of Osmonde's mind therewas no thought of anguish or the need for it; he but realised that hehad felt an unreasonable pang when she whom he had so desired to beholdhad passed him by unnoticed. 'Twas after all a mere trick of chance, and recalled to him the morning two years before, when he had heard herhorse's feet splashing through the mire of the narrow lane, and haddrawn his own beast aside while she galloped past unaware of hisnearness, and with the strange, absorbed, and almost fierce look in hereyes. He had involuntarily gathered his bridle to follow her and thenhad checked his impulse, realising its impetuousness, and had turned toride homeward with a half smile on his lips but with his heartthrobbing hard. But what perchance struck him most to-night, was thather eyes wore a look unlike, yet somehow akin, to that which he hadmarked and been moved by then--as if storm were hid within theirshadows and she herself was like some fine wild thing at bay. 

There would have been little becomingness in his hastening after herand his Lordship of Dunstanwolde; his court to her must be paid withgrace and considerateness. If there were men who in their eagernessforgot their wit and tact, he was not one of them. 

He turned to re-enter the ball-room and approach her there, and on thethreshold encountered young Colin, who looked for the moment pale. 

"Did you see her?" he asked. "She has but just passed through the roomwith my Lord Dunstanwolde--Mistress Clorinda, " he added, with a littlerueful laugh. "In Gloucestershire there is but one 'she. ' When we speakof the others we use their names and call them Mistress Margaret or myLady Betty--or Jane. "

"I stood at the head of the stairway as she passed, " answered Osmonde. 

"It cannot be true, " the lad broke forth; "it makes me mad even to hearit spoke--though he is a courtly gentleman and rich and of highstanding--but he is old enough to be her grandfather. Though she issuch a woman, she is but seventeen, and my lord is near seventy. "

Osmonde turned an inquiring gaze upon him, and the boy broke into hisconfused half-laugh again. 

"I speak of my Lord Dunstanwolde, " he said. "Twice he has asked her tobe his Countess, and all say that to-night she is to give him heranswer. Jack Oxon has heard it and is mad enough. Look at him as hestands by the archway there. His eyes are like blue steel and he canscarce hide his rage. But better she should take Dunstanwolde thanJack"--hotly. 

The musicians were playing a minuet in the gallery, there was dancing, slow, stately movements and deep obeisance going on in the room, couples were passing to and fro, and here and there groups stood andwatched. My lord Duke stood and watched also; a little court hadgathered about him and he must converse with those who formed it, orlisten with gracious attention to their remarks. But his grace andcomposure cost him an effort. There came back to him the story old LadyStorms had told in Vienna and which he had not believed and had evenforgot. The memory of it returned to him with singular force andclearness. He told himself that still it could not be true, that hisyoung host's repetition of it rose from the natural uneasy jealousy ofa boy--and yet the pageant of the brilliant figures moving before himseemed to withdraw themselves as things do in a dream. He rememberedmy Lord Dunstanwolde's years and his faithfulness to the love of hisyouth, and there arose before him the young look he had worn when theymet in the avenue, his words, "'Tis hope which makes new summer, " andthe music of the minuet sounded distant in his ears, while as it rangthere, he knew he should not forget it to his life's end. Yet no, itcould not be so. A gentleman near seventy and a girl of seventeen! Andstill, to follow the thought honestly, even at seven and sixty years myLord had greater grace and charm than many a man not half his age. Andwith that new youth and tenderness in his eyes no woman could shrinkfrom him, at least. And still it could not be true, for Fate herselfhad driven him to this place--Nature and Fate. 

[Illustration: "Your Grace, it is this lady who is to do me the greathonour of becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde"]

Sir John Oxon stood near the doorway, striving to smile, but biting hislip; here and there his Grace vaguely observed that there seemed newtalk among the moving couples and small gathered groups. About theentrance there was a stirring and looking out into the corridor, and ina moment or so more the company parted and gave way, and his Lordshipof Dunstanwolde entered, with Mistress Clorinda upon his arm; he, gracefully erect in bearing, as a conqueror returning from his victory. 

An exclamation broke from the young Colin which was like a low cry. 

"Tis true!" he said. "Yes, yes; 'tis in his eyes. 'Tis done--'tisdone!"

His Grace of Osmonde turned towards his kinsman, who he saw wasapproaching him, and greeted him with a welcoming smile; the red rosewas still held in his hand. He stood drawn to his full height, astately, brilliant figure, with his orders glittering on his breast, his fine eyes deeply shining--waiting. 

The company parted before the two advancing figures--his lordship'srich violet velvet, the splendid rose and silver making a wondrous waveof colour, the wreath of crimson flowers on the black hair seeming likea crown of triumph. 

Before my lord Duke they paused, and never had the old Earl's gentle, high bred face worn so tenderly affectionate a smile, or his grey eyesso sweet a light. 

"My honoured kinsman, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde, " he said to herwho glowed upon his arm. "Your Grace, it is this lady who is to do methe great honour of becoming my Lady Dunstanwolde. "

And they were face to face, her great orbs looking into his own, and hesaw a thing which lay hid in their very depths--and his own flasheddespite himself, and hers fell; and he bowed low, and she swept asplendid curtsey to the ground. 

So, for the first time in their lives, he looked into her eyes. 

_CHAPTER XVIII_

_A Night in which my Lord Duke Did Not Sleep_

As they rolled over the roads on their way homeward, in the darkness oftheir coach, my Lord Dunstanwolde spoke of his happiness and told itsstory. There was no approach to an old lover's exultant folly in histalk; his voice was full of noble feeling, and in his manner there wassomewhat like to awe of the great joy which had befallen him. To himwho listened to the telling 'twas a strange relation indeed, since eachincident seemed to reveal to him a blindness in himself. Why had he notread the significance of a score of things which he could now recall? Ascore of things?--a hundred! Because he had been in his early prime, and full of the visions and passions of youth, he had not for onemoment dreamed that a man who was so far his senior could be a manstill, his heart living enough to yearn and ache, his eyes clear to seethe radiance others saw, and appraise it as adoringly. 'Twas the commonfault of youth to think to lead the world and to sweep aside from itspath all less warm-blooded, strong-limbed creatures, feeling their daywas done for them, and that for them there was naught left but to waitquietly for the end. There was an ignobleness in it--a self-absorptionwhich was almost dishonour. And in this way he had erred as far as anystripling with blooming cheeks and girlish love-locks who thought thatnine and twenty struck the knell of love and life. 'Twas thoughts likethese that were passing through his mind as they were driven throughthe darkness--at least they were the thoughts upon the surface of hismind, while below them surged a torrent into whose darkness he darednot look. He was a man, and he had lost her--lost her! She had become apart of his being--and she had been torn from his side. "Let me butlook into your eyes, " he had said, and he had looked and read heranswering soul--too late!

"I have passed through dark days, Gerald, " my lord was saying. "Howshould I have dared to hope that she would give herself to me? I hadbeen mad to hope it. And yet a man in my case must plead, whether hedespairs or not. I think 'twas her gentleness to Mistress Anne whichhas sustained me. That poor gentlewoman and I have the happiness toknow her heart as others do not. Thank God, 'tis so! When to-night Isaid to her sadly, 'Madam, my youth is long past, ' she stopped me witha strange and tender little cry. She put her hand upon my shoulder. Ah, its soft touch, its white, kind caress! 'Youth is not all, ' she said. 'I have known younger men who could not bring a woman truth andhonourable love. 'Tis not I who give, 'tis not I, ' and the full sweetred of her mouth quivered. I--have not yet dared to touch it, Gerald. "And his voice was sad as well as reverent. "Youth would have been morebold. "

In his dark corner of the coach his Grace checked breath to control astart. In the past he had had visions such as all men have--and all waslost! And to-morrow his kinsman would have gained courage to look hisnew bliss in the face--the autumn of his days would be warmed by a lateglow of the sun, but that long summer which yet lay before himselfwould know no flame of gold. The years he had spent in training hiswhole being to outward self-control at least did service to him now, and aided him to calm, affectionate speech. 

"You will make her life a happy one, my Lord, " he said, "and you willbe a joyous man indeed. "

Together they conversed on this one subject until their journey wasover. When they had passed through the hall and stood at length in thelight of the apartment in which it was their custom to sit, Osmondebeheld in my lord's face the freshness and glow he had marked on hisarrival, increased tenfold, and now he well understood. In truth, therenewal of his life was a moving thing to see. He stood by the mantel, his arm resting upon it, his forehead in his hand, for a little spacein silence and as if lost in thought. 

"She is a goddess, " he said, "and because she is so, can be humble. Hadyou but seen her, Gerald, when she spoke. ''Tis not I who give, ' shesaith. 'You are a great Earl, I am a poor beauty--a shrew--a hoyden. Igive naught but this!' and flung her fair arms apart with a greatlovely gesture and stood before me stately, her beauty glowing like thesun. "

He drew a deep sigh of tenderness and looked up with a faint start. "'Tis not fair I should fatigue you with my ecstasy, " he said. "Youlook pale, Gerald. You are generous to listen with such patience. "

"I need no patience, " answered my lord Duke with noble warmth, "to aidme to listen to the kinsman I have loved from childhood when he speaksof his happiness with the fairest woman in the world. Having seen herto-night, I do not wonder she is called so by her worshippers. "

"The fairest and the noblest, " said my Lord. "Great Heaven, how oftenhave I sate alone in this very room calling myself a madman in mydespair! And now 'tis past! Sure it cannot be true?"

"'Tis true, my dear Lord, " said Osmonde, "for I beheld it. "

"Had you been in my place, " his lordship said with his grave, kindlylook, "you need not have wondered at your fortune. If you had lived inWarwickshire instead of winning laurels in campaign you might have beenmy rival if you would--and I a hopeless man--and she a Duchess. But youtwo never met. "

My lord Duke held out his hand and grasped his kinsman's with friendlysympathy. 

"Until to-night we never met, " he said. "'Twas Fate ordained it so--andI would not be your rival, for we have loved each other too long. Imust wait to find another lady, and she will be Countess ofDunstanwolde. "

He bore himself composedly until they had exchanged the finalcourtesies and parted for the night, and having mounted the stairs hadpassed through the long gallery which led him to his apartments. Whenhe opened the door it seemed to his fancy that the wax tapers burnedbut dimly amid the shadows of the great room, and that the picturedfaces hanging on the walls looked white and gazed as if aghast. 

The veins were swollen in his temples and throbbed hard, his bloodcoursed hot and cold alternately, there were drops starting out uponhis brow. He had not known his passions were so tempestuous and that hecould be prey to such pangs of anguish and of rage. Hitherto he hadheld himself in check, but now 'twas as if he had lost his hold on thereins which controlled galloping steeds. The blood of men who had beensplendid savages centuries ago ran wild within him. His life for thirtyyears had been noble and just and calm. Being endowed with all gifts byNature and his path made broad by Fortune, he had dealt in high honourwith all bestowed upon him. But now for this night he knew he was adifferent man, and that his hour had come. 

He stood in the centre of the chamber and tossed up his hands, laughinga mad, low, harsh laugh. 

"Not as Hugh de Mertoun came back, " he said. "Good God! no, no!"

The rage of him, body and soul, made him sick and suffocated him. 

"Could a man go mad in such case?" he cried. "I am not sane! I cannotreason! I would not have believed it. "

His arteries so throbbed that he tore open the lace at his throat andflung back his head. "I cannot reason!" he said. "I know now how men_kill_. And yet he is as sweet a soul as Heaven ever made. " He pacedthe great length of the chamber to and fro. 

"'Tis not Nature, " he said. "It cannot be borne--he to hold her to hisbreast, and _I--I_ to stand aside. Her eyes--her lovely, melting, woman's eyes!"

Men have been mad before for less of the same torment, and he whosenature was fire, and whose imagination had the power to torture him bypicturing all he had lost and all another man had won, was only savedbecause he knew his frenzy. 

"To this place itself she will be brought, " he thought. "In these roomsshe will move, wife and queen and mistress. He will so worship her thatshe cannot but melt to him. At the mere thought of it my brain reels. "

He knew that his thoughts were half delirium, his words half raving, yet he could not control them, and thanked chance that his apartmentwas near none other which was occupied, and that he could stride aboutand stamp his foot upon the floor, and yet no sound be heard beyond themassive walls and doors. Outside such walls, in the face of the world, he must utter no word, show no sign by any quiver of a muscle; and'twas the realisation of the silence he must keep, the poignard stabshe must endure without movement, which at this hour drove him tomadness. 

"This is but the beginning, " he groaned. "Since I am his kinsman and wehave been friends, I am bound as a man upon the rack is bound while heis torn limb from limb. I must see it all--there will be no escape. Attheir marriage I must attend them. God save me--taking my fit place asthe chief of my house at the nuptials of a well beloved kinsman, I mustshare in the rejoicings, and be taunted by his rapture and her eyes. Nay, nay, she cannot gaze at him as she would have gazed at me--shecannot! Yet how shall I endure!"

For hours he walked to and fro, the mere sense of restless movementbeing an aid to his mood. Sometimes again he flung himself into a seatand sat with hidden eyes. But he could not shut out the pictures hisfevered fancy painted for him. A man of strong imagination, and who ispossessed by a growing passion, cannot fail to depict to himself, andlive in, vivid dreams of that future of his hopes which is his chiefestjoy. So he had dreamed, sometimes almost with the wild fervour of aboy, smiling while he did it, at his own pleasure in the mere detailhis fancy presented to him. In these day-dreams his wealth, the beautyand dignity of his estates, the brilliant social atmosphere his rankassured him, had gained a value he had never recognised before. Heremembered now, with torturing distinctness, the happy day when it hadfirst entered his mind, that those things which had been his dailysurroundings from his childhood would all be new pleasures to her, allin strong contrast to the atmosphere of her past years. His heartactually leapt at the thought of the smilingness of fortune which hadlavished upon him so much, that 'twould be rapture to him to lay at herfeet. He had remembered tenderly the stately beauty of his belovedCamylott, the bosky dells at Marlowell Dane, the quaint dignity of theElizabethan manor at Paulyn Dorlocke, the soft hills near Mertounhurst, where myriads of harebells grew and swayed in the summer breeze as itswept them; and the clear lake in the park at Roxholm, where the deercame to drink, and as a boy he had lain in his boat and rocked amongthe lily-pads in the early morning, when the great white water-flowersspread their wax cups broad and seemed to hold the gold of the sun. Hislife had been so full of beauty and fair things; wheresoever his lothad fallen at any time he had had fair days, fair nights, and earth'sloveliness to behold. And all he had loved and joyed in, he had knownshe would love and joy in, too. What a chatelaine she would make, hehad thought; how the simple rustic folk would worship her! What a fitsetting for her beauty would seem the grand saloons of Osmonde House!What a fit and queen-like wearer she would be for the marvellous jewelswhich had crowned fair heads and clasped fair throats and arms forcenturies! There were diamonds all England had heard rumour of, and hehad even lost himself in a lover's fancy of an hour when he himselfwould clasp a certain dazzling collar round the column of her throat, and never yet had he given himself to the fancy but in his vision hehad laid his lips on the warm whiteness when 'twas done, and losthimself in a passionate kiss--and she had turned and smiled a heavenlyanswering bridal smile. 

This he remembered now, clinching his hands until he drove the nailsinto his palms. 

"I have been madder than I thought, " he said. "Yes, 'twas madness--but'twas Nature, too! Good God!" his forehead dropping in his hand and hepanting. "I feel as if she had been a year my wife, and another man hadtorn her from my breast. And yet she has not been mine an hour--norever will be--and she is Dunstanwolde's, who, while I wake in torment, dreams in bliss, as is his honest, heavenly right. " Even to the tormenthe had no claim, but in being torn by it seemed but robbing anotherman. What a night of impotent rage it was, of unreasoning, hopelesshatred of himself, of his fate, and even of the man who was his rival, though at his worst he reviled his frenzy, which could be so base as torend unjustly a being without blame. 

'Twas not himself who hated, but the madness in his blood which forthis space ran riot. 

At dawn, when the first glimmer of light began to pale the skies, hefound himself sitting by the wide-thrown casement still in the attirehe had worn the night before. For the first time since he had been bornhis splendid normal strength had failed him and he was heavy withunnatural fatigue. He sate looking out until the pale tint had deepenedto primrose and the primrose into sunrise gold; birds wakened in thetrees' broad branches and twittered and flew forth; the sward andflowers were drenched with summer dews, and as the sun changed thedrops to diamonds he gazed upon the lovely peace and breathed in thefresh fragrance of the early morn with a deep sigh, knowing his frenzypast but feeling that it had left him a changed man. 

"Yes, " he said, "I have been given too beauteous and smooth a life. Till now Fate has denied me nothing, and I have gone on my wayunknowing it has been so, and fancying that if misfortune came I shouldbear it better than another man. 'Twas but human vanity to believe inpowers which never had been tried. Self-command I have preached tomyself, calmness and courage; for years I have believed I possessedthem all and was Gerald Mertoun's master, and yet at the first blow Ispend hours of the night in madness and railing against Fate. But onething I can comfort myself with--that I wore a calm face and couldspeak like a man--until I was alone. Thank God for that. "

As he sate he laid his plans for the future, knowing that he must layout for himself such plans and be well aware of what he meant to do, that he might at no time betray himself to his kinsman and by so doingcast a shadow on his joy. 

"Should he guess that it has been paid for by my despair, " he said, "'twould be so marred for his kind heart that I know not how he wouldbear the thought. 'Twould be to him as if he had found himself therival of the son he loved. He has loved me, Heaven knows, and I haveloved him. Tis an affection which must last. "

My Lord Dunstanwolde had slept peacefully and risen early. He was fullof the reflections natural to a man to whom happiness has come and thewhole tenor of whose future life must be changed in its domesticaspect, whose very household must wear a brighter face, and whoseentire method of existence will wear new and more youthful form. Hewalked forth upon his domain, glad of its beauty and the heavenlybrightness of the day which showed it fair. He had spent an hour out ofdoors, and returning to the terrace fronting the house, where alreadythe peacocks had begun to walk daintily, spreading or trailing theirgorgeous iridescent plumes, he looked up at his kinsman's casement andgave a start. My lord Duke sate there still in his gala apparel ofwhite and gold brocade, his breast striped by the broad blue ribbon ofthe Garter, jewelled stars shining on his coat. 

"Gerald, " he called to him in alarm, "you are still dressed! Are youill, my dear boy!"

Osmonde rose to his feet with a quickness of movement which allayed hismomentary fear; he waved his hand with a greeting smile. 

"'Tis nothing, " he answered, "I was a little ailing, and after 'twaspast I fell asleep in my chair. The morning air has but just awakedme. "

_CHAPTER XIX_

"_Then you might have been one of those----_"

When the Earl and Countess of Dunstanwolde arrived in town and took uptheir abode at Dunstanwolde House, which being already one of thefinest mansions, was made still more stately by its happy owner'scommand, the world of fashion was filled with delighted furore. Thosewho had heard of the Gloucestershire beauty by report were stirred toopen excitement, and such as had not already heard rumours of her werespeedily informed of all her past by those previously enlightened. Theyoung lady who had so high a spirit as to have at times awakenedsomewhat of terror in those who were her adversaries; the young ladywho had made such a fine show in male attire, and of whom it had beensaid that she could outleap, outfence, and outswear any man her size, had made a fine match indeed, marrying an elderly nobleman and widower, who for years had lived the life of a recluse, at last becominghopelessly enamoured of one who might well be his youngest child. 

"What will she do with him?" said a flippant modish lady to his Graceof Osmonde one morning. "How will she know how to bear herself like awoman of quality?"

"Should you once behold her, madam, " said his Grace, "you will know howshe would bear herself were she made Queen. "

"Faith!" exclaimed the lady, "with what a grave, respectful air you sayit. I thought the young creature but a joke. "

"She is no joke, " Osmonde answered, with a faint, cold smile. 

"'Tis plain enough 'tis true what is said--the men all lose theirhearts to her. We thought your Grace was adamant"--with simperingroguishness. 

"The last two years I have spent with the army in Flanders, " said mylord Duke, "and her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde is the wife of myfavourite kinsman. "

'Twas this last fact which was the bitterest thing of all, and whichmade his fate most hard to bear with patience. What he had dreaded hadproven itself true, and more. Had my Lord Dunstanwolde been a strangerto him or a mere acquaintance he could have escaped all, or at leastthe greater part, of what he now must endure. As the chief of his househis share in the festivities attendant upon the nuptials had beengreater than that of any other man. As one who seemed through theirlong affection to occupy almost the place of a son to the bridegroom, it had been but natural that he should do him all affectionate service, show the tenderest courtesy to his bride, and behold all it mosttortured him to see. His gifts had been the most magnificent, his wordsof friendly gratulation the warmest. When they were for a few moments, on the wedding-day, alone, his Lordship had spoken to him of the joywhich made him pale. 

"Gerald, " he said, "I could speak to none other of it. Your great heartwill understand. 'Tis almost too sacred for words. Shall I waken from adream? Surely, 'tis too heavenly sweet to last. "

Would it last? his kinsman asked himself in secret, could it? Couldone, like her, and who had lived her life, feel an affection for aconsort so separated from her youth and bloom by years? She was soyoung, and all the dazzling of the world was new. What beauteous, high-spirited, country-bred creature of eighteen would not find itsdazzle blind her eyes so that she could scarce see aright? He askedhimself the questions with a pang. To expect that she should not evenswerve with the intoxication of it, was to expect that she should benigh superhuman, and yet if she should fail, and step down from thehigh shrine in which his passion had placed her, this would be thefiercest anguish of all. 

"Were she mine, " he cried, inwardly, "I could hold and guide her withlove's hand. We should be lost in love, and follies and Courts wouldhave no power. Love would be her shield and mine. Poor gentleman, "remembering the tender worship in my Lord's kind face; "how can shelove him as _he_ loves _her_? But oh, she should--she _should_!"

If in the arrogance of her youth and power she could deal with himlightly or unkindly, he knew that even his own passion could find nopardon for her--yet if he had but once beheld her eyes answer herlord's as a woman's eyes must answer those of him she loves, it wouldhave driven him mad. And so it came about that to see that she wastender and noble he watched her, and to be sure that she was no morethan this he knew he watched her too, calling himself ignoble thatNature so prompted him. 

There was a thing she had said to him but a week after the marriagewhich had sunk deep into his soul and given him comfort. 

"From my lord I shall learn new virtues, " she said, with a singularsmile, which somehow to his mind hid somewhat of pathos. "'Newvirtues, ' say I; all are new to me. At Wildairs we concerned ourselveslittle with such matters. " She lifted her eyes and let them rest uponhim with proud gravity. "He is the first good man, " she said, "whom Ihave ever known. "

'Twas not as this man observed her life that the world looked on at it, but in a different manner and with a different motive, and yet both theworld and his Grace of Osmonde beheld the same thing, which was that myLord Dunstanwolde's happiness was a thing which grew greater and deeperas time passed, instead of failing him. When she went to Court and setthe town on fire with her beauty and her bearing, had her lord been aman of youth and charm matching her own, the grace and sweetness of hermanner to him could not have made him a more envied man. The wit andspirit with which she had ruled her father and his cronies stood her inas good stead as ever in the great World of Fashion, as young beaux andold ones who paid court to her might have told; but of her pungency ofspeech and pride of bearing when she would punish or reprove, my lordknew nothing, he but knew tones of her voice which were tender, lookswhich were her loveliest, and most womanly, warm, and sweet. 

They were so sweet at times that Osmonde turned his gaze away that hemight not see them, and when his Lordship, as was natural, would havetalked of her dearness and beauties, he used all his powers to gentlydraw him from the subject without seeming to lack sympathy. But when aman is the idolatrous slave of happy love and, being of mature years, has few, nay, but one friend young enough to tell his joy to with thefeeling that he is within reach of the comprehension of it, 'tisinevitable that to this man he will speak often of that which fills hisbeing. 

His Lordship's revealings of himself and his tenderness wereinvoluntary things. There was no incident of his life of which onebeing was not the central figure, no emotion which had not its birth inher. He was not diffuse or fond to weakness, but full of faithful loveand noble carefulness. 

"I would not weary her with my worship, Gerald, " he said one day, having come to Osmonde House to spend an hour in talk with him. "Let meopen my heart to you, which is sometimes too full. "

On this morning he gave unconscious explanation of many an incident ofthe past few years. He spoke of the time when he had found himselfwakening to this dream of a new life, yet had not dared to let histhoughts dwell upon it. He had known suffering--remorse that he shouldbe faithless to the memory of his youth, in some hours almost horror ofhimself, and yet had struggled and approached himself in vain. Thenight of Lord Twemlow's first visit, when my lord Duke (then my lordMarquis) had been at Dunstanwolde, the occasion upon which Twemlow hadso fretted at his fair kinswoman and told the story of the falling ofher hair in the hunting-field, he had been disturbed indeed, fearingthat his countenance would betray him. 

"I was afraid, Gerald; afraid, " he said, "thinking it unseemly that aman of my years should be so shaken with love--while your strong youthhad gone unscathed. Did I not seem ill at ease?"

"I thought that your lordship disliked the subject, " Osmonde answered, remembering well. "Once I thought you pale. "

"Yes, yes, " said my lord. "I felt my colour change at the cruel picturemy Lord Twemlow painted--of her hunted helplessness if harm befellher. "

"She would not be helpless, " said Osmonde. "Nothing would make her so. "

Her lord looked up at him with brightened eye. 

"True--true!" he said. "At times, Gerald, I think perhaps you know herbetter than I. More than once your chance speech of her has shown soclear a knowledge. 'Tis because your spirit is like to her own. "

Osmonde arose and went to a cabinet, which he unlocked. 

"I have hid here, " he said, "somewhat which I must show you. It shouldbe yours--or hers--and has a story. "

As his eyes fell upon that his kinsman brought forth his lordshiputtered an exclamation. 'Twas the picture of his lady, stolen beforeher marriage by the drunken painter. 

"It is herself, " he exclaimed, "herself, though so roughly done. "

My lord Duke stood a little apart out of the range of his vision andrelated the history of the canvas. He had long planned that he would dothe thing, and therefore did it. All the plans he had made for hisfuture conduct he had carried out without flinching. There had beenhours when he had been like a man who held his hand in a brazier, buthe had shown no sign. The canvas had been his companion so long that tosend it from him would be almost as though he thrust forth herselfwhile she held her deep eyes fixed upon him. But he told the story ofthe garret and the drunken painter, in well-chosen words. 

"'Twas but like you, Gerald, " my lord said with gratitude. "Few othermen would have shown such noble carefulness for a wild beauty theyscarce knew. I--will leave it with you. "

"You--will leave it!" answered my lord Duke his pulse quickening. "Idid not hope for such generosity. "

His lordship smiled affectionately. "Yes, 'tis generous, " he returned. "I would be so generous with no other man. Kneller paints her for menow, full length, in her Court bravery and with all her diamondsblazing on her. 'Twill be a splendid canvas. And lest you should thinkme too ready to give this away, I will tell you that I feel the storyof the rascal painter would displease her. She hath too high a spiritnot to be fretted at the thought of being the unconscious tool of adrunken vagabond. "

"Yes, it will anger her, " Osmonde said, and ended with a suddensmiling. "Yet I could not keep hidden the beauties of my kinsman'slady, and must tell him. "

So the matter ended with friendly smiles and kindliness, and thepicture was laid back within the cabinet until such time as it shouldbe framed and hung. 

"Surely you have learned to love it somewhat in your wanderings?" saidthe older man with trusting nobleness, standing looking at it, his handon the other's arm. "You could not help it. "

"No, I could not help it, " answered Osmonde, and to himself he said, "He will drive me mad, generous soul; he will drive me mad. "

His one hope and effort was so to bear himself that the unhappy truthshould not be suspected, and so well he played his part that he made itharder for himself to endure. It was not only that he had not betrayedhimself either in the past or present by word or deed, but that he hadbeen able to so control himself at worst that he had met his kinsman'seye with a clear glance, and chosen such words of response andsympathy, when circumstances so demanded of him, as were generous andgracious and unconcerned. 

"There has risen no faintest shadow in his mind, " was his thought. "Heloves me, he trusts me, he believes I share his happiness. Heaven giveme strength. "

But there was a time when it was scarce to be avoided that they shouldbe bidden as guests to Camylott, inasmuch as at this splendid andrenowned house my Lord of Dunstanwolde had spent some of his happiesthours, and loved it dearly, never ceasing to speak of its statelinessand beauty to his lady. 

"It is the loveliest house in England, my lady, " he would say, "andGerald loves it with his whole soul. I think he loves it as well, andalmost in such manner as he will some day love her who is his Duchess. Know you that he and I walked together in the noted Long Gallery, onthe day I told him the story of your birth?"

My lady turned with sudden involuntary movement and met my lord Duke'seyes (curiously seldom their eyes met, as curiously seldom as if eachpair avoided the other). Some strange emotion was in her countenanceand rich colour mounted her cheek. 

"How was that, my lord?" she asked. "'Twas a strange story, as I haveheard it--and a sad one. "

"He was but fourteen, " said Dunstanwolde, "yet its cruelty set hisyouthful blood on fire. Never shall I forget how his eyes flashed andhe bit his boyish lip, crying out against the hardness of it. 'Is therejustice, ' he said, 'that a human thing can be cast into the world andso left alone?'"

"Your Grace spoke so, " said her ladyship to Osmonde, "while you wereyet so young?" and the velvet of her eyes seemed to grow darker. 

"It was a bitter thing, " said Osmonde. "There was no justice in it. "

"Nay, that there was not, " my lady said, very low. 

"'Twas ordained that you two should be kinsman and kinswoman, " saidDunstanwolde. "He was moved by stories of your house when he was yet achild, and he was ever anxious to hear of your ladyship's first years, and later, when I longed for a confidant, though he knew it not, Italked to him often, feeling that he alone of all I knew couldunderstand you. "

Her ladyship stood erect and still, her eyes downcast, as she slowlystripped a flower of its petals one by one. My lord Duke watched heruntil the last flame-coloured fragment fell, when she looked up andgazed into his face with a strange, tragic searching. 

"Then you have known me long, your Grace?" she said. 

He bowed his head, not wishing that his voice should at that moment beheard. 

"Since your ladyship was born, " said her lord, happy that these two heloved so well should feel they were not strangers. "Together we bothsaw you in the hunting-field--when you were but ten years old. "

Her eyes were still upon his--he felt that his own gazed into strangedepths of her. The crimson had fallen away from her beauteous cheeksand she faintly, faintly smiled--almost, he thought, as if she mockedat somewhat, woefully. 

"Then--then you might have been one of those, " she said, slow and soft, "who came to the birthnight feast and--and saw my life begin. "

And she bent down as if she scarce knew what she did, and slowlygathered up one by one the torn petals she had broken from her flower. 

"Then you will ask us to come to visit you at Camylott, Gerald?" saidmy lord later after they had talked further, he speaking of thebeauties of the place and the loveliness of the country about it. 

"It will be my joy and honour to be your host, " Osmonde answered. "Since my parents' death I have not entertained guests, but hadalready thought of doing so this year, and could have no better reasonfor hospitality than my wish to place my house at your ladyship'sservice, " with a bow, "and make you free of it--as of every other roofof mine. "

_CHAPTER XX_

_At Camylott_

A month later the flag floated from Camylott Tower and the village wasall alive with rustic excitement, much ale being drunk at the PloughHorse and much eager gossip going on between the women, who had beenrunning in and out of each other's cottages for three days to talk overeach item of news as it reached them. Since the new Duke had takenpossession of his inheritance there had been no rejoicing or company atthe Tower, all the entertaining rooms having been kept closed, and thegreat house seeming grievously quiet even when his Grace came down tospend a few weeks in it. To himself the silence had been a sorrowfulthing, but he had no desire to break it by filling the room withguests, and had indeed resolved in private thought not to throw openits doors until he brought to it a mistress. The lovely presence of thelast mistress it had known had been so brightly illuminating a thing, filling its rooms and galleries and the very park and terraces andgardens themselves with sunshine and joyousness. In those happy days noapartment had seemed huge and empty, no space too great to warm andlight with homely pleasure. But this fair torch extinguished, apartments large enough for royal banquets, labyrinths of corridors andgalleries leading to chambers enough to serve a garrison, seemed allthe more desolate for their size and splendour, and in them their ownerhad suffered a sort of homesickness. 'Twas a strange thing to passthrough the beautiful familiar places now that they were all thrownopen and adorned for the coming guests, reflecting that the gala airwas worn for her who should, Fate willing, have made her first visit asmistress, and realising that Fate had not been willing and that shecame but as a guest and Countess of Dunstanwolde. Oh, it was a bitter, relentless thing; and why should it have been--for what wise purpose orwhat cruel one? And with a maddening clutch about his heart he sawagain the tragic searching in her eyes when she had said, "Then youhave known me long, your Grace, " and afterwards, so soft and strangelyslow, "Then you might have been one of those who came to my birthnightfeast, and saw my life begin. "

He might have been, Heaven knew. Good God, why had he not? Why had hegone back to Flanders? Now it seemed to his mind the folly of a madman, and yet at the time he had felt his duty to his house commanded that heshould not give way to the rising tempest of his passion, but shouldat least wait a space that time might prove that he could justly trustthe honour of his name and the fortune of his peoples into this wild, lovely being's hands. Had he been free from all responsibilities, freeenough to feel that he risked no happiness but his own, and by his actcould wrong none other than himself, he would not have waited to seewhat time wrought but have staked his future life upon this die. He haddenied himself and waited, and here he stood in the Long Gallery, and'twas thrown open and adorned for the coming of my Lady Dunstanwolde. 

"I meant an honest thing, " he said, gazing out over his fair domainthrough a dark mist, it seemed to him. "All my life I have meanthonestly. Why should a man's life go wrong because he himself would actright?"

The flag fluttered and floated from the battlements of the tower, thehouse was beautiful in its air of decorated order and stateliness, glowing masses of flowers lighted every corner, and tall exotic plantsstood guard about; the faces of lord and lady, dame and knight, in thepictures seemed to look downward with a waiting gaze. Outside, terracesand parterres were wonders of late summer brilliancy of bloom, and thesunshine glowed over all. On the high road from town at this hour thecavalcades of approaching guests must ride in coach or chariot or onhorseback. When the equipage of the Earl and his Countess passedthrough Camylott village, old Rowe would ring a welcoming peal. But mylord Duke stood still at the window of the Long Gallery where he hadsaid his tender farewell to his beloved mother before she had left herhome. He was thinking of a grave thing and feeling that the violet eyesrested upon him again in a soft passion of pity. The thing he thoughtof was that which, when his eyes met my Lady Dunstanwolde's, made theblood pulse through his veins; 'twas that he had known he should someday see in some woman's eyes, and had told himself would be answer tothe question his being asked; 'twas that he had prayed God he mightsee, ay, and had believed and sworn to himself he should see--in thiswoman's when he came back to stand face to face with her as lover, ifshe would. Well, he had come and seen it, and 'twas in the eyes andsoul of her who was to be his kinsman's wife. And never since he hadbeen man born had he beheld the faintest glimmering of its glow in anywoman's eyes, though they had been like pools of love or stars ofHeaven, never yet! Moreover, he knew well that he never should againbehold it in any hour to come. Before its fire his soul shook and hisbody trembled; 'twas a thing which drew him with a power no human beingcould explain the strength of or describe; had he been weak or evil, and she evil, too, it would have dragged him to her side through crimeand hell; he could not have withstood it. 

He saw again the sudden pallor of his mother's sweet face, the suddenforeboding in her eyes. 

"If you loved her 'twould drive you mad and make you forget what youmust be. "

"Yes, " he cried, putting his hand suddenly to his brow, feeling itdamp, "it has driven me mad, I think--mad. I am not the same man! Thetorture is too great. I could--I could--nay! nay!" with half a shudder. "Let me not forget, mother; let me not forget. "

Through this visit he must be a gracious host; a score of other guestswould aid him by sharing his attentions; her ladyship, as new weddedbride, would be the central figure of the company. Her lord's love forhim and unconsciousness of any suspicion of the truth would put him tothe test many a time, but he would keep his word to himself, the vow hemade to avoid nearness to her when 'twas to be done with anygraciousness, and her eyes he would not meet in more than passing gazeif he could be master of his own. 

"If I look straightly at her my own gaze will speak, and she, who is soshrewd of wit and has seen such worship in men's faces, will read andunderstand, and disdain me, or--disdain me not. God knows which wouldbe worse. "

The visit over, he would visit other of his estates, engage himselfwith friends to be their guests in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, attheir châteaux in France or Spain--everywhere. When he was not thusabsorbed he would give himself to a statesman's work at the settling ofgreat questions--the more involved and difficult the better; partyenmity would be good for him, the unravelling of webs of intrigue, thebaffling of cabals would keep his thoughts in action, and leave him notime for dreams. Yes, to mark out his days thus clearly would help himto stand steady upon his feet--in time might aid in deadening theburning of the wound which would not close. Above all, to Warwickshirehe would not go--Dunstan's Wolde must see him no more, and DunstanwoldeHouse in town he would gradually visit less and less often, until hiskinsman ceased to expect the old familiarity, believing his many dutieskept him away. In his happiness he would have but little time to misshim seriously, perhaps even to remember that his presence had been onceso much less rare a thing. 

"'Son, ' he once loved to call me, " he thought, with a sharp pang. "Heis an old man, 'tis true, but Heaven may give him a son of his own. "

Even as the thought crossed his mind--as a flame of lightning crosses ablack sky--he heard old Rowe begin to ring his peal, and soon--or itseemed soon to him--the first party of arrivals wound through the park, now and then its colours gleaming through an opening in the trees. There were mounted and safely armed servitors riding in attendance toguard the big travelling-coach with its six strong, finely bred horses. In this the Earl and his Countess sate, the lady a little pale, fromthe fatigue of her journey, perhaps; following them came anothervehicle, substantial but less splendid than their own equipage, in it, my lady's two Abigails and the gentleman of his lordship carrying theiron jewel-box secreted in a special hiding-place beneath the seat, forthe baffling of highwaymen, if any such were bold enough to attack aparty so well attended by sturdy strength and shining arms. When shehad stepped forth across the threshold of her town house, attended bysubservient lacqueys bowing in line on either side, the Countess hadfaintly smiled, and when they had entered their coach and the door beenclosed upon them, she had turned this smile with a sweet archness uponher lord. 

"I smile, my Lord, " she said, "to think what a great lady your goodnesshas made of me, and how in these days I ride forth, and how in thepast, when I was but Clo Wildairs our old chariot lumbered like a houseon wheels, and its leather hung in flaps, and the farm horses pulled itlurching from side to side, and old Bartlemy had grown too portly forhis livery and cursed when it split as he rolled in his seat. " And herlaugh rang out as if it were a chime of bells, and her lord, laughingwith her--but for joy in her arch gayety--adored her. 

"If any had told the county then that I would one day ride forth likethis, " says she, "from Dunstanwolde House to pay visit to a Duke atCamylott, who could have believed it? I would not myself. And 'tis youwho have given me all, my dear lord, " laying her soft hand in his. "You, Edward, and I am full of gratefulness. "

What wonder that he was a happy man, he who had hoped for so little andhad found so much, since she did not think--as a slighter womanmight--that her youth and beauty paid for and outweighed his richestgifts, but was heavenly kind and dutiful and tender, giving him of herbrightest humours and prettiest playfulness and gentlest womanlythought, and receiving his offerings, not as her mere right, but assignals of his generousness and tender love for her. 

"Look, my lady!" he cried, as they drove up the avenue, "see what anoble house it is; there is no other, in all England, of its size andbeauty. And Gerald waits to receive us with no Duchess at his side. "

Her ladyship leaned forward to look, and gazed a moment in silence. 

"There should be one, " she cried, "to reign over such a place, and tobe happy in it. "

The village saw gayety enough to turn its head in the two weeks thatfollowed. The flag floated from the tower every day, coaches rolledpast the village green laden with the county gentry who came to paytheir respects, gay cavalcades rode down the avenue and through the biggates to gallop over the country with joyous laughter and talk; at thePlough Horse, Mr. Mount, who had grown too old for service, but hadbeen pensioned and was more fond of fine stories than ever, added tohis importance as a gentleman of quality by describing the banquets atthe Towers, the richness of the food, the endless courses, themassiveness of the gold plate, the rareness of the wines, and themagnificence of the costumes of the guests. 

"There are fine women there, " he would say, removing his longchurchwarden's pipe from his mouth and waving it to give emphasis. "Inmy day I have seen King Charles at Hampton Court--my Lady Castlemaine, and Mistress Frances Stewart, who married a Duke and had her eyes putout by smallpox and her face spoiled forever, poor soul; and DeQuerouaille--the one you will call Carwell, which is not her name, buta French one--and Mazarin--and all could see Nell Gwynne who could payfor a seat in the play-house--so I may well be a judge of women--andhave lived gayly myself about the Court. But there is _one_--thismoment at Camylott Towers--there is one, " describing a great circlewith his pipe as if he writ her name, "and may the devil seize andsmite me, if there was ever a lady with such a body and face on earthbefore. "

"Tis the tall one with the flashing black eyes, " cried out Will Bushthe first night that he said it. "Me and my dame saw her through theglass of the coach the day they drove over the green with all theirservants come to follow them from Lunnon town with pistols and hangers. And what think you? says I to Joan, 'Ecod, ' says I, 'there's the womanfor our own Duke, and matches him for size and beauty!' And says Joan, staring: 'Lord a mercy, so she is and does!'"

"Village folk, " said Mr. Mount with decorum, "are not the ones to takeupon themselves the liberty to say who will suit a Duke or who will notsuit him. But this I will say to you, that for once you were not so farwrong; I having said the same thing myself. And his Grace is a singleman, whom they say loves no woman--and my lady has a husband nearseventy years of age. So things go!"

To her husband and lord, this lady seemed for all her powers, thesweetest, frank creature in the world, and indeed in all matters whichconcerned their united life she was candour itself. But there was athing in her mind--and 'twas in her thought every day--of which, thoughshe was within his sight almost every waking hour and her head lay uponthe pillow by his own, when she slept, he knew nothing. In gaininggrace of manner and bearing she had not lost her old quickness of sightand alertness of mind; if any felt that her eyes were less keen, herperception less acute, their error was a grave one. Beneath the majestyof her Ladyship of Dunstanwolde lay all the fire and flaming spirit, the swiftness to deduce and act, which had set Clo Wildairs apart fromlesser women. So it was that she had not been three hours at Camylottbefore she knew that, with regard to herself, my Lord Duke of Osmondehad made some strong resolve. No other than herself could havedetected, she knew, but on her first glance at his face she beheld itwritten there. There are human beings, it is sure, whose natures are soattuned that the thoughts, the griefs, the passions of each arereflected upon the brain of the other; and 'twas thus with these twowhom life thrust so far apart from one another and yet forced so near. At their first meeting on the threshold and in the midst of his warmand gracious welcome she read what none other could read, and felt apang which yet was gladness. 'Twas better so--her strength should aidhis own, his greatness should support her. There was no question inher mind, no argument, only a sudden recognition of the truth that upto this time she had scarcely allowed herself mere thought inconnection with him, that--after the first hour--when thought had risenshe had thrust it back, forbidden its being, denied its presence. 

"Thought will not help, " she had said once, when, as she had satealone, she had felt hot, passionate tears start to her eyes, and shehad flung down her book, risen from her chair, and left the room tenminutes later, riding forth from the court followed by her groom andmaking for the country roads. 

From the earliest days of her marriage she had herself avoided oftenmeeting his gaze. Glances would not help either, but would do harm andbetray--between those who are drawn together as by some force ofNature, glances are mad things. They may begin calmly, they may swearthat they will so continue, but looks entangle one day and catch fire, and, once alight, the flame cannot extinguish itself, even when itwould. 

At Camylott each was gracious to the other, he gracious host, shegracious guest and kinswoman, and those who looked on praised each oneand honoured, speaking often of their charm and courtly friendliness, which indeed made them seem almost like brother and sister. 

"They are a strange pair, those two fine creatures, " said the oldDowager Storms one day to her favourite crony, an elderly matron towhom she could safely talk gossip. "But look at them. " (They were withthe whole party at racquets in the court, and my lord Duke, having madea splendid stroke, glowing and laughing bowed in response to a round ofapplause. ) "Is there a husband at Court--though he were notthirty-five--who has reason to feel as safe as the old EarlDunstanwolde may--when his wife is guest to such a pretty fellow ashe?" nodding her head towards his Grace. "Never in my days saw I athing so out of nature! 'Tis as though they were not flesh and blood, but--but of some stuff _we_ are not made of. 'Tis but human he shouldmake sly love to her, and her eyes wander after him despite herselfwheresoever he goes. All know how a woman's eyes will follow a man, andhis hers, but when these look at each other 'tis steadfast honesty thatlooks out of them--and 'tis scarce to be understood. "

_CHAPTER XXI_

_Upon the Moor_

Throughout the festivities which followed each other, day by day, myLady Dunstanwolde was queen of every revel. 'Twas she who led theadventurous party who visited the gipsy encampment in the glen bymoonlight, and so won the heart of the old gipsy queen that she tookher to her tent and instructed her in the mysteries of spells andpotions. She walked among them as though she had been bred and born oneof their tribe, and came forth from one tent carrying in her arms abrown infant, and showed it to the company, laughing like a girl andmaking pretty sounds at the child when it stared at her with greatblack eyes like her own, and shook at it all her rings, which shestripped from her fingers, holding them in the closed palm of her handto make a rattle of. She stirred the stew hanging to cook over thecamp-fire, and begged a plate of it for each of the company, and ateher own with such gay appetite as recalled to Osmonde the day he hadwatched her on the moor; and the gipsy women stood by showing theirwhite teeth in their pleasure, and the gipsy men hung about with blackshining eyes fixed on her in stealthy admiration. She stood by the firein the light of the flame, having fantastically wound a scarlet scarfabout her head, and 'twas as though she might have been a gipsy queenherself. 

"And indeed, " she said, as they rode home, "I have often enough thoughtI should like to be one of them; and when I was a child, and was in apassion, more than once planned to stain my face and run away to thenearest camp I could come upon. Indeed, I think I was always a rebeland loved wild, lawless ways. "

When she said it my lord Duke, who was riding near, looked straightbefore him, with face which had belied his laugh, had any seen it. Hewas thinking that he could well imagine what a life a man might leadwith her, wandering about the thick green woods and white roads andpurple moors, tramping, side by side, in the sweet wind and brightsunshine, and even the soft falling rain, each owner of a splendid bodywhich defied the weather and laughed at fatigue. To carry their simplemeal with them and stop to eat it joyously together under a hedge, tolie under the shade of a broad branched tree to rest when the sun washot and hear the skylarks singing in the blue sky, and then atnight-time to sit at the door of a tent and watch the stars and telleach other fanciful stories of them, while the red camp-fire dancedand glowed in the dark. Of no other woman could he have had such a wildfancy--the others were too frail and delicate to be a man's comradesout of doors; but she, who stood so straight and strong, who moved likea young deer, who could swing along across the moors for a day withoutfatigue, who had the eye of a hawk and a spirit so gay and untiring--aman might range the world with her and know joy every moment. 'Twasordained that all she did or said should seem a call to him and shouldbring visions to him, and there was many an hour when he thanked Heavenshe seemed so free from fault, since if she had had one he could nothave seen it, or if he had seen, might have loved it for her sake. Butshe had none, it seemed, and despite all her strange past was surelymore noble than any other woman. She was so true--he told himself--soloyal and so high in her honour of the old man who loved her. Had sheeven been innocently light in her bearing among the men who flockedabout her, she might have given her lord many a bitter hour, and seemedregardless of his dignity; but she could rule and restrain all, howsoever near they were to the brink of folly. As for himself, Osmondethought, all his days he had striven to be master of himself, and felthe must remain so or die; but he could have worshipped her upon hisknees in gratitude that no woman's vanity tempted her to use herpowers and loveliness to shake him in his hard won calmness and lurehim to her feet. He was but man and human, and vaunted himself uponbeing no more. 

There had been for some months much talk in town of the rapid downfallof the whilom favourite of Fashion, Sir John Oxon. But a few weeksbefore the coming happiness of the old Earl of Dunstanwolde was madeknown to the world, there had been a flurry of gossip over a rumourthat Sir John, whose fortunes were in a precarious condition, was aboutto retrieve them by a rich marriage. A certain Mistress Isabel Beaton, a young Scotch lady, had been for a year counted the greatest fortunein the market, and besieged by every spendthrift or money-seeker thetown knew. Not only was she heiress to fine estates in Scotland, but towealth-yielding sugar plantations in the West Indies. She was buttwenty and had some good looks and an amiable temper, though with herfortune, had she been ugly as Hecate, she would have had more suitorsthan she could manage with ease. But she was not easily pleased, or ofa susceptible nature, and 'twas known she had refused suitor aftersuitor, among them men of quality and rank, the elegant and decorousViscount Wilford, among others, having knelt at her feet, and--havingproffered her the boon of his lofty manner and high accomplishments--having been obliged to rise a discarded man, to his amazement anddiscomfort. The world she lived in was of the better and morerespectable order, and Jack Oxon had seen little of it, finding it notgay and loose enough for his tastes, but suddenly, for reasons bestknown to himself and to his anxious mother, he began to appear at itsdecorous feasts. 'Twas said of him he "had a way" with women and couldmake them believe anything until they found him out, either throughlucky chance or because he had done with them. He could act the part oftender, honest worshipper, of engaging penitent, of impassioned andromantic lover until a woman old and wise enough to be his mother mightbe entrapped by him, aided as he was by his beauty, his large blueeyes, his merry wit, and the sweetest voice in the world. So it seemedthat Mistress Beaton, who was young and had lived among better men, took him for one and found her fancy touched by him. His finestallurements he used, verses he writ, songs he made and sang, poetichomilies on disinterested passion he preached, while the world lookedon and his boon companions laid wagers. At last those who had wageredon him won their money, those who had laid against him lost, for 'twasmade known publicly that he had won the young lady's heart, and herhand and fortune were to be given to him. 

This had happened but a week or two before he had appeared at the ballwhich celebrated young Colin's coming of age, and also by chance theannouncement of the fine match to be made of Mistress ClorindaWildairs. 'Twas but like him, those who knew him said, that though hehimself was on the point of making a marriage, he should burn with furyand jealous rage, because the beauty he had dangled about had found ahusband and a fortune. Some said he had loved Mistress Clorinda withsuch passion that he would have wed her penniless if she would havetaken him, others were sure he would have married no woman withoutfortune, whatsoever his love for her, and that he had but laiddishonest siege to Mistress Clo and been played with and flouted byher. But howsoever this might have been, he watched her that night, black with rage, and went back to town in an evil temper. Perhaps 'twasthis temper undid him, and being in such mood he showed the clovenfoot, for two weeks later all knew the match was broken off, MistressBeaton went back to her estates in Scotland, his creditors descendedupon him in hordes, such of his properties as could be seized weresold, and in a month his poor, distraught mother died of a feverbrought on by her disappointment and shame. 

Another story was told in solution of the sudden breaking off thematch, and 'twas an ugly one and much believed. 

A wild young cousin of the lady's, one given to all the adventures of aman about town, had gone to Tyburn, as was much the elegant fashion, tosee a hanging. The victim was a girl of sixteen, to suffer for themurder of her infant, and as she went to the gallows she screamed aloudin frenzy the name of the child's father. The young scapegrace lookingon, 'twas said, turned pale on hearing her and went into the crowd, asking questions. Two hours later he appeared at his cousin's houseand, calling for her guardian, held excited speech with him. 

"Mistress Isabel fell like a stone after ten minutes' talk with them, "'twas told, "and looked like one when she got into her travelling-coachto drive away next day. Sir John and his mother had both raged and weptat her door to be let in, but she would see or speak to neither ofthem. "

From that time it seemed that all was over for Sir John. He was farworse than poor and in debt, he was _out of fashion_, and for a manlike himself this meant not only humiliation, but impotent rage. Ladiesno longer ogled him and commanded the stopping of their chairs thatthey might call him to them with coquettish reproaches that he neithercame to their assemblies nor bowed and waved hands to them as he sateon the stage at the playhouse; beaux no longer joined him in thecoffee-house or on the Mall to ask his opinion of this new beauty orthat, and admire the cut of his coat, or the lace on his steenkirk; thenew beauty's successes would not be advanced by his opinion--a man whomtradespeople dun from morn till night has few additions to his wardrobeand wears few novelties in lace. Profligacy and defiance of all rulesof healthful living had marred his beauty and degraded his youth; hisgay wit and spirit had deserted him and left him suspicious and bitter. He had been forced to put down his equipages and change his fashionablelodgings for cheaper ones; when he lounged in the park his oldacquaintances failed to see him; when he gambled he lost. Downhill hewas going, and there was naught to stop him. For one man in England hehad, even in his most flourishing days, cherished a distaste--the manwho was five inches taller than himself, who was incomparablyhandsomer, and whose rank was such, that to approach him as an equalwould have savoured of presumption. This man, who was indeed my LordDuke of Osmonde, had irked him from the first, and all the more when hebegan to realise that for some reason, howsoever often they chanced tobe in the same place, it invariably happened that they did not come incontact with each other, Sir John on no occasion being presented to mylord Duke, his Grace on no occasion seeming to observe his presencenear him. At the outset this appeared mere accident, but after a fewsuch encounters ending in nothing, Sir John began to guess that 'twasthe result of more than mere chancing, and in time to mark that, thoughhe was not clumsily avoided, or in such manner as would leave any roomfor complaint, my lord Duke forebore to enter into any conversation inwhich he took part, or to approach any quarter where he was stationed. Once Sir John had even tried the experiment of addressing anacquaintance who stood near his Grace, meaning to lead up to a meeting, but though the Duke did not move from the place where he stood, in afew moments he had, with ease and naturalness, gathered about him acircle which 'twould have been difficult indeed to enter. Sir John wentaway livid, and hated and sneered at him from that hour, all the morebitterly, because no hatred was a weapon against him, no sneer could domore than glance from him, leaving no scratch. 'Twas plain enough, thegossips said, that Sir John's passion for her ladyship of Dunstanwoldehad not been a dead thing when he paid his court to the heiress; if fora little space he had smothered it from necessity's sake, it had begunto glow again as soon as he had been left a free man, and when my ladycame to town and Court, surrounded by the halo of rank and wealth andbeauty, the glow had become a flame he could not hide, for 'twasburning in his eyes and his every look spoke of it as if withbitterness. 

It scarcely seemed a flame of love; 'twas to be seen so often when helooked fierce and resentful. 

"'Tis more than half envy of her, " said one wise lady, who had passedthrough a long life of varied experiences. "'Tis more hate than love. His star having set, it galls him that hers so rises. And as for her, she scarce will deign to see him. "

And this was very true, for she had a way of passing him by as if hedid not live. And none but herself knew that sometimes, when he stoodnear, he spoke low to her words she disdained to answer. There weremany bitter things she held in mind which were secret from all othersupon earth, she thought, but from himself and her who had been CloWildairs in days gone by, when, as it now seemed to her, she had beenanother woman living in another world. There were things she understoodwhich the world did not, and she understood full well the meaning ofhis presence when she, with the ducal party, came face to face with himat the great ball given in the county town when the guests weregathered at Camylott. 

The night was a festal one for the county, the ball being given inhonour of a great party movement, his Grace and his visitors drivingfrom Camylott to add to the brilliance of the festivities. The Mayorand his party received them with ceremony, the smaller gentry, who hadcome attired in their richest, gathered in groups gazing, halfadmiring, half envious of the more stately splendour of the Courtmantua-makers and jewellers. The officers from the garrison assumed amartial air of ease as the _cortége_ advanced up the ballroom, andevery man's eyes were drawn towards one tall goddess with a shiningcirclet set on raven-black braids of hair coiled high, yet twistedtight, as if their length and thickness could only be massed closeenough by deftest skill. 

"'Tis said 'tis near six feet long, " whispered one matron to another;"and a rake at Court wagered he would show a lock of it in town someday, but he came back without it. "

Sir John Oxon had come with a young officer, and stood near him as theducal party approached. The Countess of Dunstanwolde was on his Grace'sarm, and Sir John made a step forward. Her ladyship turned her eyesslowly, attracted by the movement of a figure so near her; she did notstart nor smile, but let her glance rest quiet on his face and curtsiedcalmly; my lord Duke bowed low with courtly gravity, and they passedon. 

When the ball was at an end, and the party set out on its return toCamylott, the Duke did not set out with the rest, he being at the lastmoment unexpectedly detained. This he explained with courtly excuses, saying that he would not be long held, and would mount and follow in anhour. 

He stood upon the threshold to watch the last chariot leave thecourtyard, and then he made his way to a certain supper-room, where alingering party of officers and guests were drinking. These being ofthe young and riotous sort, there was much loud talk and laughter andtoasting of ladies, sometimes far from respectfully, and Sir John Oxon, who was flushed with wine, was the central figure, and toasted herladyship of Dunstanwolde with an impudent air. 

"'Tis not my lady I drink to, " he cried, "but Clo Wildairs--Clo astridea hunter and with her black hair looped under her hat. Clo! Clo!" Andwith a shout the company drank to the toast. 

"There was a lock of that black hair clipt from her head once when sheknew it not, " Sir John cried next. "'Twas lost, by God, but 'twill befound again. Drink to its finding. "

Then my lord Duke stepped forward and, passing the open door, wentthrough the house and out beyond the entrance of the court and waitedin a place where any who came forth must pass. He had but gone withinto see that Sir John had not yet taken his departure. 

There be deeps in the nature of human beings which in some are neverstirred, possibilities of heroism, savagery, passion, or crime, andwhen the hour comes which searches these far secret caverns and bringstheir best and worst to light, strange things may be seen. On thenight, at Dunstanwolde, when he had fought his battle alone, my lordDuke had realised the upheaval in his being of frenzies and lawlessnesswhich were strange indeed to him, and which he had afterwards pondereddeeply upon, tracing the germs of them to men whose blood had come downto him through centuries, and who had been untamed, ruthless savages inthe days when a man carried his life in his hand and staked itrecklessly for any fury or desire. 

Now as he stood and waited, his face was white except that on one cheekwas a spot almost like a scarlet stain of blood; his eyes seemedchanged to blue-black, and in each there was a light which flickeredlike a point of flame and made him seem not himself, but some newrelentless being, for far deeps of him had been shaken and searchedonce more. 

"I wait here like a brigand, " he said to himself with a harsh laugh, "or a highwayman--but he shall not pass. "

Then Sir John crossed the courtyard and came forward humming, and hisGrace of Osmonde advanced and met him. 

"Sir John Oxon, " he said, and stood still and made a grave bow. 

John Oxon started and then stood still also, staring at him, his faceflushed and malignant. His Grace of Osmonde was it who had gazed abovehis head throughout the evening, when all the country world might see!

"Your Grace deigns to address me at last, " he said. 

"Hitherto there has been no need that either should address the other, "answers my lord Duke in a steady voice. "At this moment the necessityarises. Within there"--with a gesture--"I heard you use a lady's nameimpudently. Earlier in the evening I also chanced to hear you so useit; I was in the ball-room. So I remained behind and waited to havespeech with you. Do not speak it again in like manner. "

"Must I not!" said Sir John, his blue eyes glaring. "On Clo Wildairs'sname was set no embargo, God knows. Is there a reason why a man shouldbe squeamish of a sudden over my Lady Dunstanwolde's? 'Tis but thedifference of a title and an old husband. "

"And of a man made her kinsman by marriage, " said my lord Duke, "whocan use a sword. "

"Let him use it, by God!" cried Sir John, and insensate with rage helaid his hand upon his own as if he would draw it. 

"He will use it and is prepared to do so, or he would not be here, " theDuke answered. "We are not two Mohocks brawling in the streets, but twogentlemen, one of whom must give a lesson to the other. Would you havewitnesses?"

"Curse it, I care for none!" flamed Sir John. "Let the best man givehis lesson now. 'Tis not this night alone I would be even for. "

The Duke measured him from head to foot, in every inch of sinew. 

"I am the better man, " he said; "I tell you beforehand. "

Sir John flung out a jeering laugh. 

"Prove it, " he cried. "_Prove_ it. Now is your time. "

"There is open moor a short distance away, " says his Grace. "Shall wego there?"

So they set out, walking side by side, neither speaking a word. Thenight was still and splendid, and just upon its turn; the richdark-blue of the Heavens was still hung with the spangles of the stars, but soon they would begin to dim, and the deepness of the blue to palefor dawn. A scented freshness was in the air, and was just stirringwith that light faint wind which so often first foretells the coming ofthe morning. When, in but a few minutes, the two men stood stript oftheir upper garments to their shirts, the open purple heath about them, the jewelled sky above, this first fresh scent of day was in theirlungs and nostrils. That which stirred John Oxon to fury and at thesame time shook his nerve, though he owned it not to himself, and wouldhave died rather, was the singular composure of the man who was hisopponent. Every feature, every muscle, every fibre of him seemedembodied stillness, and 'twas not that the mere physical members of himwere still, but that the power which was himself, his will, histhought, his motion was in utter quiet, and of a quiet which was deadlyin its significance and purpose. 'Twas that still strength which_knows_ its power and will use it, and ever by its presence fills itsenemy with impotent rage. 

With such rage it filled John Oxon as he beheld it, and sneered. He hadheard rumours of the wonders of his Grace's sword-play, that fromboyhood he had excelled and delighted in it, that in the army he hadwon renown, through mere experiments of his skill, that he was ascertain of his weapon as an acrobat of his least feat--but 'twas notthis which maddened the other man but the look in his steady eye. 

"You are the bigger man of the two, " he jeered, impudently, "but giveme your lesson and shut my mouth on Clo Wildairs--if you can. "

"I am the better man, " says my lord Duke, "and I will shut it. But Iwill not kill you. "

Then they engaged, and such a fight began as has not been often seen, for such a battle is more of spirit than body, and is more like to befought alone between two enemies whose antagonism is part of beingitself, than to be fought in the presence of others whose nearnesswould but serve to disturb it. 

John Oxon had fought duels before, through women who were but hisdespised playthings, through braggadocio, through drunken folly, through vanity and spite--but never as he fought this night on thebroad heath, below the paling stars. This man he hated, this man hewould have killed by any thrust he knew, if the devil had helped him. There is no hatred, to a mind like his, such as is wakened by the sightof another's gifts and triumphs--all the more horrible is it if theyare borne with nobleness. To have lost all--to see another possess withdignity that thing one has squandered! And for this frenzy there wasmore than one cause. Clo Wildairs! He could have cursed aloud. My LadyDunstanwolde! He could have raved like a madman. She! And a Dukehere--this Duke would shut his mouth and give him a lesson. He lungedforward and struck wildly; my lord Duke parried his point as if heplayed with the toy of a child, and in the clear starlight his facelooked a beautiful mask, and did not change howsoever furious hisopponent's onslaught, or howsoever wondrous his own play. For wondrousit was, and before they had been engaged five minutes John Oxon was amaddened creature, driven so, not only by his own fury, but by seeing acertain thing--which was that this man could kill him if he would, butwould not. When he had lost his wits and made his senseless lunge, hisGrace had but parried when he might have driven his point home; he didthis again and again while their swords clashed and darted. The stampof their feet sounded dull and heavy on the moor, and John Oxon'sbreath came short and hissing. As he grew more wild the other grew morecool and steady, and made a play which Sir John could have shrieked outat seeing. What was the man doing? 'Twas as if he would show him wherehe could strike and did not deign to. He felt his devil's touch in adozen places, and not one scratch. There he might have laid open hisface from brow to chin! Why did he touch him here, there, at one pointand another, and deal no wound? Gods! 'twas fighting not with a humanthing but with a devil! 'Twas like fighting in a Roman arena, to beplayed with as a sport until human strength could bear no more; 'twasas men used to fight together hundreds of years ago. His breath grewshort, his panting fiercer, the sweat poured down him, his throat wasdry, and he could feel no more the fresh stirring of the air of thedawning. He would not stop to breathe, he had reached the point in hisinsensate fury when he could have flung himself upon the rapier's pointand felt it cleave his breastbone and start through his back with thejoy of hell, if he could have struck the other man deep but once. Thethought made him start afresh; he fought like a thousand devils, hispoint leaping and flashing, and coming down with a crash; he stampedand gasped and shouted. 

"Curse you, " he cried; "come on!"

"Do I stand back?" said my lord Duke, and gave him such play as madehim see the air red as blood, and think he tasted the salt of blood inhis dry mouth; his muscles were wrenched with his violence, and thisgiant devil moved as swift as if he had but just begun. Good God! hewas beaten! Good God! by this enemy who would not kill him or bekilled. He uttered a sound which was a choking shriek and hurledhimself forward. 'Twas his last stroke and he knew it, and my lord Dukestruck his point aside and it flew in the air, and Sir John fellbackwards broken, conquered, exhausted, but an unwounded man. And hefell full length and lay upon the heather, its purple blooms crushedagainst his cheek; and the sky was of a sweet pallor just about toglow, and the first bird of morning sprang up in it to sing. 

"Damn you!" he gasped. "Damn you, " and lay there, his blue eyesglaring, his chest heaving as though 'twould burst, his nostrilsdilated with his laboured, tortured puffs of breath. Thereupon, as helay prostrate, for he was too undone a man to rise, he saw in his Graceof Osmonde's eyes the two points of light which were like ruthlessflames and yet burned so still. 

And his Grace, standing near him, leaned upon his sword, looking down. 

"Do you understand?" he said. 

"That you are the better sword--Yes!" shrieked Sir John, and addedcurses it were useless to repeat. 

"That I will have you refrain from speaking that lady's name?"

"Force me to it, if you can, " Sir John raved at him. "You can but killme!"

"I will not kill you, " said the Duke, leaning a little nearer and theawful light in his eyes growing intenser--for awful it was and made hispale face deadly. "How I can force you to it I have shown you--andbrought you here to prove. For that, I meant that we should fightalone. Myself, I knew, I could hold from killing you, howsoever myblood might tempt me. You, I knew, I could keep from killing me, whichI knew you would have done if you could, by foul means if not fair. Iwould not have it said I was forced to fight to shield that lady'sname--so I would have no witness if it could be helped. And you willkeep the encounter secret, for I command you. "

Sir John started up, leaning upon his elbow, catching his breath, andhis wicked face a white flame. 

"Curse you!" he shrieked again, blaspheming at a thing he had notdreamed of, and which came upon him like a thunderbolt. "Curse yoursoul--you love her!"

The deadly light danced--he saw it--in his Grace's eyes, but hiscountenance was a marble mask with no human quiver of flesh in anymuscle of it. 

"I command you, " he went on; "having proved I can enforce. I have theblood of savage devils in me, come down to me through many hundredyears. All my life I have kept them at bay. Until late I did not knowhow savage they were and what they could make me feel. I could do toyou, as you lie there, things a man who is of this century, and sane, cannot do. You know I can strike where I will. If you slight thatlady's name again I will not kill"--he raised himself from his swordand stood his full height, the earliest gold of the sun shining abouthim--"I will not kill you, but--so help me God!--I will fight with youonce more, and I will leave you so maimed and so disfigured that youcan woo no woman to ruin again and jest at her shame and agony with noman--for none can bear to look at you without a shudder--and you willlie and writhe to be given the _coup de grace_. " He lifted the hilt ofhis sword and kissed it. "That I swear, " he said, "by this firstdawning of God's sun. "

When later my lord Duke returned to the town and got his horse and rodeacross the moors the shortest road to Camylott, he felt suddenly thathis body was slightly trembling. He looked down at his hands and sawthey were unsteady, and a strange look--as of a man slowly awakeningfrom a dream--- came over his face. 'Twas this he felt--as if the lasttwo hours he had lived in a dream or had been another man than himself, perhaps some bloody de Mertoun, who had for ages been dry, light dust. The devils which had been awake in him had been devils so awful as hewell knew--not devils to possess and tear a man in the days of goodQueen Anne, but such as, in times long past, possessed those who slew, and hacked, and tortured, and felt an enemy a prey to be put to _peineforte et dure_. He drew his glove across his brow and found it damp. This dream had taken hold upon him three hours before, when, standingby chance near a group about John Oxon, he had heard him sneer as theold Earl went by with his lady upon his arm. From that moment his brainhad held but one thought--this man should not go away until he hadtaught him a thing. He would teach him, proving to him that there was apower which he might well fear, and which would show no mercy, not eventhe mercy mere death would show, but would hold over his vile soul agreater awfulness. But he had danced his minuets and gavottes with myLady Dunstanwolde as well as with other fair ones, and the countrygentry had looked on and applauded him in their talk, telling eachother of his fortunes, and of how he had had a wound at Blenheim, distinguished himself elsewhere, and set the world wondering becauseafter his home-coming he took no Duchess instead of choosing one, asall expected. While they had so talked and he had danced he had madehis plan, and his devils had roused themselves and risen. And then hehad made his excuses to his party and watched the coaches drive away, and had gone back to seek John Oxon. Now he rode back over themoorland, and the day was awake and he was awake too. He rode swiftlythrough the gorse and heather, scattering the dewdrops as he went, thousands of dewdrops there were, myriads of pinkish purpleheath-bells, and some pure white ones, and yellow gorse blossoms whichsmelt of honey, and birds that trilled, and such a morning fragrance inthe air as made his heart ache for vague longing. Ah, if all had beenbut as it might have been, for there were the fair grey towers ofCamylott rising before him, and he was riding homeward--and, oh, God, if he had been riding home to the arms of the most heaven-sweet womanin the world--heaven-sweet not for her mere loveliness' sake, butbecause she was to him as Eve had been to Adam--the one woman God hadmade. 

His heart swelled and throbbed with thinking it as he rode up theavenue, and its throbbing almost stopped when he approached the gardenand saw a tall white figure standing alone by a fountain and lookingdown. He sprang from his horse and turned it loose to reach its stable, and went forward feeling as if a dream had begun again, but this time astrange, sweet one. 

Her long white draperies hung loose about her, so that she looked likesome statue; her hands were crossed on her chest and her chin fell uponthem, while her eyes looked straight before into the water. She waspale as he had never seen her look before, her lip had a weary curveand droop, and under her eyes were shadows. How young she was--what agirl, for all her height and bearing! and though he knew her years sowell he had never thought on her youth before. Would God he might haveswept her to his breast, crushing her in his arms and plunging into hereyes, for as she turned and raised them to him he saw tears. 

"Your ladyship, " he exclaimed. 

"My lord has been ill, " she said. "He asked for you, and when he fellasleep I came to get the morning air, hoping your Grace might come. Imust go back to him. Come, your Grace, with me. "

_CHAPTER XXII_

_My Lady Dunstanwolde is Widowed_

There was a lady came back to town with the Earl and Countess, on theirreturn from Dunstan's Wolde, to which place they had gone after hislordship's illness at Camylott. This lady was one of the two eldersisters of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde, and 'twas said was herfavourite and treated with great tenderness by her. She was but a thin, humble little woman--Mistress Anne Wildairs--and singularly plain andtimid to be the sister and chosen companion of one so brilliant andfull of fire. She was a pale creature with dull-hued heavy hair andsoft dull eyes, which followed her ladyship adoringly whensoever itchanced they were in a room together. 

"How can two beings so unlike be of the same blood?" people said; "andwhat finds my lady in her that she does not lose patience at herplainness and poor spirit?"

What she discovered in her, none knew as she herself did; but my LordDunstanwolde understood the tie between them, and so his Grace ofOsmonde did, since an occasion when he had had speech with her ladyshipupon the subject. 

"I love her, " she said, with one of her strange, almost passionate, looks. "'Tis thought I can love neither man nor woman. But that I cando, and without change; but I must love a thing not slight nor common. Anne was the first creature to teach me what love meant. Before, I hadnever seen it. She was afraid of me and often thought I mocked at her, but I was learning from her pureness--from her pureness, " she added, saying the words the second time in a lower voice and almost as if toherself. And then the splendid sweet of her smile shone forth. "She isso white--good Anne, " she said. "She is a saint and does not know Ipray to her to intercede for me, and that I live my life hoping thatsome day I may make it as fair as hers. She does not know, and I darenot tell her, for she would be made afraid. "

To Mistress Anne she seemed in truth a goddess. Until taken under herprotection, the poor woman had lived a lonely life, starved of allpleasures and affections. At first--'twas in the days when she had beenbut Clo Wildairs--her ladyship had begun to befriend her through a merefanciful caprice, being half-amused, half-touched, to find her, bysheer chance, one day, stolen into her chambers to gaze in delightedterror at some ball finery spread upon a bed. To Mistress Clorinda thefrightened creature had seemed a strange thing in her shy fearfulness, and she had for an hour amused herself and then suddenly been vaguelymoved, and from that time had been friends with her. 

"Perhaps I had no heart then, or 'twas not awake, " said her ladyship. "I was but a fierce, selfish thing, like a young she-wolf. Is a youngshe-wolf honest?" with a half-laugh. "I was that, and feared nothing. Iate and drank and sang and hunted poor beasts for my pleasure, and wasas wild as one of them myself. When I look back!"--she flung up a whitehand in a strange gesture--"When I look back!"

"Look forward!" said my lord Duke; "'tis the nobler thing. "

"Yes, " she repeated after him, fixing her great eyes gravely on hisface and speaking slowly. "'Tis sure the nobler thing. "

And then he heard from her how, day by day, poor Anne had revealed toher things strange--unselfishness, humble and tender love, and sweetpatience. 

"At first I but wondered, " she said, "and sate and would stare at herwhile she talked. And then I pitied her who was so meek, and then I wasangered at Fortune, which had been so careless of her, and being arebel I began to defy Fate for her and swear I would set its cruelty atnaught and make her happy. Always, " with quick leap of light in hereyes, "I have hated that they call Fate, and defied it. There is athing in me, " her closed hand on her breast, "which will not be beatdown! It _will_ not. If 'tis evil, Heaven help me--for it will not. ButAnne"--and she smiled again, her face changing as it always did whenshe spoke her sister's name--"Anne I began to love and could not helpit, and she was the first. "

This gentlewoman my lord Duke did not for some time see but on rareoccasions, at a distance. In her ladyship's great gilt coach he saw heronce or twice--a small, shrinking figure seated by her sister's side, the modest pale brown of her lutestring robe a curious contrast to mylady's velvets and brocades; at the play-house he saw her seated in theCountess' box, at which a score of glasses were levelled, her facelighted with wonder and pleasure at the brighter moments of thetragedy, her soft eyes full of tears when the curtain fell upon thecorpse-strewn stage. If Mistress Anne had known that so great agentleman looked at her gentle face and with an actual tenderness nearto love itself, she would indeed have been a startled woman, yet 'twaswith a feeling like to this his Grace regarded her, thinking of her intime as a sort of guardian angel. The sweetest words he had ever heardfrom the lips of her he worshipped with such sad and hopeless passion, were words spoken of Mistress Anne; the sweetest strange smile he hadever seen her wear was worn when she spoke of this meek sister; thesweetest womanly deeds he knew of her performing were thoughtfulgentlenesses done for the cherishing and protection of Anne. "Anne wasthe first creature to teach me what love meant, " she said. 

"I could have taught you, Heart, " was his secret thought; "I could havetaught you, but since I might not, God's blessing on this dear soulwhose tender humbleness was your first lesson. " Yet Mistress Anne hedid not encounter in person until the occurring of the sad event whichchanged for him the whole face of the universe itself, and which tookplace a year or more after his kinsman's marriage. The resolution hisGrace had made the day he waited at Camylott for his guests' arrival, he had kept to the letter, and this often to the wonder of his lordshipof Dunstanwolde, who found cause for regret at the rareness of hisvisits to his lady and himself under their own roof. Other visits mylord Duke had made, as he had planned, passing from one great house toanother in Great Britain, or making stay at the estates of his friendsupon the continent of Europe. Sometimes he was in Scotland, sometimesin Ireland or Wales, hunting, salmon-fishing, the chief guest at greatreunions, everywhere discussed and envied his freedom from any loveaffair, entanglement, or connection with scandal, always a thing whichawakened curiosity. 

"The world will have you married, Gerald, " said Dunstanwolde. "And 'tisno wonder! My lady and I would find you a Duchess. I think she looksfor one for you, but finds none to please her taste. She would have awondrous consort for you. You do wrong to roam so. You should come toDunstan's Wolde that she may have you beneath her eye. "

But to Dunstan's Wolde he did not go--not even when, in obedience toher lord's commands, the Countess herself besought him with gracioushospitality. 

To their town house he went but seldom, pleading as reason, affairswhich occupied his time, journeys which removed him to other parts. Butto refuse to cross the threshold was impossible; accordingly there weretimes when he must make visits of ceremony, and on one such occasion hefound her ladyship alone, and she conveyed to him her husband's messageand his desire that she herself should press his invitation. 

'Twas upon a winter afternoon, and when my lord Duke was announced heentered the saloon, to behold my lady sitting by the firelight in acarven gilded chair, her eyes upon the glowing coals, her thoughtsplainly preoccupied. On hearing his name she slightly started, and onhis entry rose and gave him her soft warm hand, which he did not kissbecause its velvet so wooed him that he feared to touch it with hislips. 'Twas not a hand which he could touch with simple courtesy, butmust long to kiss passionately, and over and over again, and hold closewith whispered words. 

"My lord has but just left me, " she said. "He will be almost angry atthe chance which led him to go before your coming. The last hour of ourtalk was all of your Grace;" and she sat upright against the high backof her chair. And why was it that, while she sat so straight and still, he felt that she held herself as one who needs support? "The last hourof our talk was all of you, " she said again, and oh, the velvet of hereyes was asking him for some aid, some mercy; and his soul leaped inanguish as he saw it. "He says I must beguile you to be less formalwith us. Before our marriage, he tells me, your Grace came often toDunstan's Wolde, and now you seem to desert us. "

"No, no!" exclaimed my lord Duke, as if involuntarily, and rose fromhis seat and stood looking down into the fire. 

"I told him you would exclaim so!" said my lady, and her low-pitchedvoice was a thing to make a man tremble. "I know your Grace loveshim--I think any heart must love him----"

My lord Duke turned and looked at her. Their eyes rested on each otherand spoke. 

"I thank your Ladyship, " he said, "that you so understood. I pray youlet him not think I could at any time feel less tender of hisgoodness. "

But what his whole being impelled him to, was to throw himself upon hisknees before her like a boy, to lay his face upon her little handswhich rested open upon her lap, and to cry to her that there were hourswhen he could bear no more. And could it have been that if he had sodone she would have bent her dear head and wept--for her voice, whenshe answered him, had surely tears in it. 

"I will not let him think so, " she said. "A heart as full of gentlenessand warmth as his must not be chilled. I will use all my power. YourGrace has much to do about the Queen at this time of disturbance andcabal. Her Grace of Marlborough's angers, the intrigues of Harley andSt. John, the quarrels of Mrs. Masham, make such a turmoil that you, whom her Majesty loves, must be preoccupied. " She laid a hand softlyupon her breast. "He will believe all that I say, " she said. "Hiskindness is so great to me. "

"He loves you, " said my lord Duke, his voice low and grave. "You are sogenerous and noble a lady to him. "

"He is so generous and noble a husband, " my Lady Dunstanwoldeanswered. "He thinks I need but ask a favour to find it granted. 'Twasbecause he thinks so that he begged me to myself speak with you, to askyou to come to Warwickshire next week when we go there. I--have askedyou. "

"With most sweet graciousness, " my lord Duke answered her. "That Imyself will tell him. " And then he stepped to her side and lifted thefair hand and kissed it very reverently, and without either speakinganother word he turned and went away. 

"But I do no wrong, " he groaned to himself as he walked in a privateroom of his own house afterwards. "I do no wrong if I go not nearher--if I have no speech with her that is not formal courtesy--if Ionly look on her when she does not know that I am near. And in seeingher, in the mere beholding of her dear face, there is a poor comfortwhich may hold a man from madness--as a prisoner shut in a dungeon toperish of thirst, might save himself from death if he found somewherein the blackness a rare falling drop and could catch it as it fell. "

So it befel that many a time he saw her when she was in nowise aware ofhis nearness. All her incomings and outgoings he found a way to learn, when she left town for the country, and when she returned, what fêtesand assemblies she would attend, at what Court gathering she wouldshine, at which places it would be possible that he might mingle withthe crowd and seem to be but where 'twas natural he should appear, ifhis presence was observed. To behold her sweep by in her chariot, tofeel the heart leap which announced her coming, to catch a view of hercrimson cheek, a fleeting glance and bow as she passed by, was at leastto feel her in the same world with himself, to know that her pulse wasbeating still, her deep eyes still alight, her voice still music, andshe a creature of love, though not for himself. 

His Grace of Marlborough, returning to England after Malplaquet, himself worn with the fierce strain of war, tossed on the changingwaves of public feeling, one hour the people's idol the next doubtedand reproached, was in such mood as made him keen of perception and offeeling. 

"Years mark changes in a man, my lord Duke, " he said when first theytalked alone, "even before they line his face or pale his bloom ofhealth. Since we met you have seen some hours you had not seen when Ibeheld you last. And yet"--with ironic bitterness--"you are notbattling with intrigues of Court and State, with the ingratitude of anation and the malice of ladies of the royal bedchamber. 'Tis only theman who has won England's greatest victories for her who must contendwith such things as these. "

"Mrs. Masham has no enmity against me, " said Osmonde. "I have no powershe would take from me. "

"And no wife she would displace about the throne, " his Grace added. "Theworld waits to behold your Duchess still?"

"'Tis I who wait, " said Osmonde, gravely. 

There was a pause, and while it lasted, Marlborough gazed at him with athought dawning in his eye. 

"You have seen her, " he said at last, in a low voice. 

Osmonde remained silent. A moment before he had risen, and so stood. The man who regarded him experienced at the moment a singular thing, feeling that it was singular, and vaguely asking himself why. It was asudden new realisation of his physical perfection. His tall, great bodywas so complete in grace and strength, each line and muscle of it sofine a thing. In the workings of such a physical being there could beno flaw. There was such beauty in his countenance, such strength andfaithful sweetness in his firm, full mouth, such pure, strong passionin the deeps of his large, kind, human eye. The handsomest and thetallest man in England he might be, but he was something more--acomplete noble human thing, to whom it surely seemed that nature shouldbe kind, since he had so honoured and done reverence to the gifts shehad bestowed upon him. 'Twas this his illustrious companion saw and wasmoved by. 

"You have seen her, " he said, "but--since you wear that look which Ican read--something has come between. Had you two bared hearts to eachother for but one hour, as 'twas ordained you should, you would standbefore me so happy a man that none could pass you by and not turn tobehold again the glow of the flame of joy burning within your soul. "

My Lord Duke of Osmonde drew a long, deep breath as he listened, looking down upon the ground. 

"Yes, " he said, "'twould have been so. "

But he spoke no further on the subject, nor did his Grace ofMarlborough, for suddenly there came to him a certain memory--which wasthat he had heard that the beautiful wild creature who had setGloucestershire on fire had made a great marriage, her bridegroom beingthe Earl of Dunstanwolde, who was the Duke of Osmonde's kinsman. And itwas she he himself had felt was born to mate with this man, and hadspoke of it in Flanders, finding my lord Duke had seen her at adistance but had not encountered her in any company. And at last itseemed that they had met, but not until she had given herself toanother. 

That night as he drove homeward after an interview with the Queen atKensington his coach rolled through a street where was a great housestanding alone in a square garden. 'Twas a house well known for itssize and massive beauty, and he leaned forward to glance at it, for noother reason than his remembrance that it was the home of his lordshipof Dunstanwolde, that fact, in connection with the incident of themorning, wakening in him a vague interest. 

"'Tis there she reigns Queen, " he said, "with her old lord worshippingat her feet as old lords will at the feet of young wives and beauties. Poor gentleman--though she is kind to him, they say. But if 'twere theother man--Good God!" As he uttered the exclamation he drew back withinthe coach. 'Twas long past midnight and the lights of DunstanwoldeHouse were extinguished, but in the dark on the opposite side of thestreet there walked a tall figure wrapped in a long cloak. 

"There is no other gentleman of such inches and so straight, " his Gracesaid. "Good Lord! how a man can suffer in such case, and how we are allalike--schoolboys, scullions, or Dukes--and must writhe and yearn andfeel we are driven mad, and can find no help but only to follow andlook at her, yards away, or crush to one's lips a rag of ribband or aflower, or pace the night away before her darkened house while she liesasleep. He is the finest man-thing I have ever known--and yet there isno other way for him--and he will walk there half the night, his throatfull of mad sobs, which he does not know for sobs, because he is notwoman but tortured man. "

Many a night the same figure had walked there in the darkness. As hisgreat friend had said, there was no other way. His pain had grown noless, but only more as the months passed by, for it was not the commonpain of a man like others. As he was taller, stronger, and had morebrain and heart than most, he had greater and keener pangs to do battlewith, and in the world he must at intervals be thrown across her pathand she across his, and as he had been haunted by talk and rumours ofher in the years before he was haunted now. 'Twas but natural allshould praise to him his kinsman's wife, sure that he would feelpleasure when he heard her lauded. 

Women, especially such as are great ladies, have not at their command, if they hide pain in secret, even the refuges and poor comfortspossessed by men. They may not feed their hungry souls by gazing at adistance upon the beloved object of their heavy thoughts; they cannotpace the night through before a dwelling, looking up as they pass atthe darkened windows behind which sleeps--or wakes--the creature theirhearts cry to in their pain; tears leave traces; faces from whichsmiles are absent, eyes from which light has fled, arouse query andcomment. My lord has a certain privacy and license to be dull orgloomy, but my lady cannot well be either without explaining herself, either by calling in a physician or wearing mourning, or allowing theworld to gain some hint of domestic trouble or misfortune. 

Her ladyship of Dunstanwolde was surely a happy woman. Having knownneither gayety nor luxury in her girlhood, it seemed now that she couldgive her lord no greater pleasure than to allow him to surround herwith both. 

"She is more dazzling than they said, " my Lord Marlborough thought, watching her at the tragedy one night, "but she carries with her athought of something she would forget in the gayeties of the world. "

The Duke of Osmonde sate in his own box that night and in the course ofthe play went to his kinsman's for a few moments and paid his respectsto her ladyship, who received him graciously. This his Grace ofMarlborough beheld but did not mark her soft quick aside to him. 

"May I ask your Grace's aid?" she said. "Look at my lord. His kindnessto me will not let him own that he is ailing. He will not remain athome from these festivities because he knows I would remain with him. Ibeg you persuade him that he is wrong and but makes me unhappy. YourGrace will do this?"

"Your Ladyship may trust me, " was his answer. 'Twas then that his Graceof Marlborough saw him turn from her with a bow and go to sit by herhusband, who, 'twas indeed true, looked this night older than hisyears, and was of an ivory pallor and worn. 'Twas at this time the Dukemarked that there stood upon the stage among the company of men offashion, idlers, and young fops sitting and lounging there, a manattired in peach-coloured velvet, whose delicacy of bloom, combiningitself with the fair curls which fell upon his shoulders, made him lookpale and haggard. He was a young man and a handsome one, but had thelook of an ill liver, and as he stood in a careless, insolent attitudehe gazed steadfastly and with burning eyes at my Lady Dunstanwolde. 

"There is somewhat devilish in his air, " his Grace thought. "It is somedissolute dandy in love with her and raging against her in his soul. Heaven's grace! how she sits and gazes past his impudent face with hergreat eyes as if he were not a living thing! She will not see him, andhe cannot force her to it, she so holds herself in hand. "

My Lord Dunstanwolde gave heed to his kinsman's affectionate appealsand counsellings with the look of a man tenderly moved. 

"Has my dear lady asked you to talk with me?" he said. "'Tis but likeher generous observance of me. She has cautioned me most tenderlyherself, and begs me to leave the gayeties of town and go with her tothe country, where she says we will be happy together and she will bemy nurse. "

"She will be happier with you at Dunstan's Wolde than she can be here, where she is concerned about your health, " returned Osmonde. "That Ican see plainly. The whirl of town festivities but torments her whenshe sees you worn and pale. "

"Yes, " answered my lord with a very tender smile, "I am sure it istrue, and there is one lovely young lady with the world at her feet whois heavenly sweet enough to give her youth and bloom willingly to thecare of an old husband. "

"'Tis to the care of noble tenderness and love she is willing to giveherself, " said Osmonde. "She is a Woman--a Woman!"

His lordship of Dunstanwolde turned and looked at him with a curiousinterest. 

"Gerald, " he said, "'tis singular that you should speak so, though yousay so true a thing. Only a few weeks since he and I spoke of yourself, and her own words of you were those: 'He is a Man--he is a Man. Nay, heis as God meant Man should be. ' And she added that if men were so, there would be women great enough to be their mates and give the worldmen like them. And now--you are both right, Gerald; both right. Sometimes I think--" He broke his sentence with a sigh and began quickagain. "I will obey you, " he said; "after the assembly we hold nextweek we will go to Dunstan's Wolde. You will be with us that lastnight, Gerald?"

Osmonde bowed, smiling. 'Twas to be a great assembly, at which Royaltywould be entertained, and of such stateliness and ceremony that hisabsence would have been a thing to be marked. 

"Her ladyship has chided me for giving so great an entertainment, " saidthe Earl. "She is very quaint in her play at wifely scolding. Truth is, I am an uxorious husband, and before we leave town would see her a lasttime all regal and blazing with her newest jewels; reigning over myhospitalities like a Queen. 'Tis a childish thing, no doubt, butperhaps--perhaps--" he broke his sentence again with a sigh which hechanged to a smile. "You will be there, " he said, "and you willunderstand the meaning of my weakness. "

On the night of this great assembly at Dunstanwolde House, Mr. Hammond, my lord Duke's confidential secretary, and the Comptroller of hishousehold, sate late over his accounts. He was his Grace's attachedservant, and having been in his service since he had left theUniversity had had time and opportunity to develop a strong affectionfor him, and a deep and even intimate interest in his concerns. 'Twasnot alone an interest in the affairs of his estate, but in himself andall that touched or moved him. This being the case he also, as well asa greater man, had marked a subtle change in his patron, though whereinits nature lay he could scarcely have described even to himself. 

"He is not so calm a creature, " he had said to himself, striving tomake analysis of what he thought he saw. "He is not so happy. At timeswhen he sits in silence he looks like a man doing battle with himself. Yet what could there be for such as he to combat with?"

He had thought of this very thing when he had seen his Grace pass tohis coach which was to bear him to the entertainment at his kinsman'shouse. The man, who had grown used to silent observance of him, hadseen in his face the thing he deplored, while he did not comprehend it. 

At midnight he sate in his room, which adjoined his Grace's study, andin which he was ever within call. 

"'Tis a thing perhaps none but a woman could understand, " he said tohimself in quiet thought. 

The clock began to strike twelve. One--two--three--four--five--six--

But the rest he did not hear. The coach-wheels were to be heard rollinginto the courtyard. His Grace was returning. Mr. Hammond rose from hiswork, prepared to answer a summons should he hear one. In but a fewminutes he was called and entered the adjoining room. 

My lord Duke was standing in the centre of the apartment. He lookedlike a man who had met with a shock. The colour had fled from hiscountenance, and his eyes were full of pain. 

"Hammond, " he said, "a great and sudden calamity has taken place. Anhour ago my Lord Dunstanwolde was struck down--in the midst of hiscompany--by a fatal seizure of the heart. "

"Fatal, your Grace?" Mr. Hammond ejaculated. 

"He did not breathe after he fell, " was my lord Duke's answer, and hispallor became even more marble-like than before, as if an addedcoldness had struck him. "He was a dead man when I laid my hand uponhis heart. "

_CHAPTER XXIII_

_Her Ladyship Returns to Town_

Upon the awful occasion of his kinsman's sudden death in the midst ofthe glittering throng of his guests, my lord Duke had spoken for thefirst time to her ladyship of Dunstanwolde's sister, the gentleMistress Anne. His Grace had chanced to encounter this lady under suchcircumstances as naturally led them to address each other, and he beingglad to have speech with her on whom his thoughts had dwelt so kindly, had remained in attendance upon her, escorting her through the crowd ofcelebrities and leading her to the supper-room for refreshment. Had shebeen wholly a stranger to him, she was one who would have appealed tohis heart and touched it, she was so slight and modest a creature, hereyes so soft and loving and her low voice so timid. Such women alwaysmoved him and awakened in him that tenderness the weak should alwayswaken in the strong. But Mistress Anne did more; seeming to him, whenshe spoke of her sister or looked at her, surely the fondest creatureNature had ever made. 

"I understand now, " his Grace had said to her as they talked, "why herladyship says that 'twas you who first taught her what love meant. "

A soft colour flooded Mistress Anne's whole face as she lifted it tolook at him who stood so tall above her smallness. 

"Did she so?" she exclaimed. "Did she so?" And her soft dull eyesseemed about to fill with tears. 

"Truly she did, madam, " he answered with warm feeling, "and added, too, that until you taught her she had never before beheld it. "

"I--oh, I am grateful!" said Mistress Anne. "I never dreamed thatI--But in these days, she hath a way of always saying that which makesone happy. "

"She loves and leans on you, " my lord Duke said, and there was suddenemotion in his voice. 

"Leans!" cried Mistress Anne with a kind of loving fright; "Anne--onAnne!"

"Yes, yes, " he answered. "I have seen it--felt it! Your pardon for myboldness. You will never forget!"

And at that very moment his attention had been caught by the look onhis kinsman's face--they chancing to be near his lordship; and he hadseen him sway and fall in the midst of a terrified group, which uttereda low simultaneous cry. 

After his attendance at the funeral ceremonies, which took place inWarwickshire, his Grace of Osmonde did not return at once to town, butwent to Camylott that in the midst of the quiet loveliness he might bealone. 

"I must have time to think, " he said; "to still my brain whichwhirls--to teach it to understand. "

Oh! the heavenly stillness and beauty of the afternoon when he rode upthe avenue on his home-coming! His home-coming! Yes, 'twas that hecalled it in his thought, and for the first time since his parents'death it seemed so. In the tenderness of his heart and for the sake ofhis long and true love for his dead kinsman, he scarce dared explain tohimself why he now could use this word and could not before--and yet, he felt that in the depths of his being the thought lay that at last hewas coming home. 

"God forgive me if there is lack of kindness in it, " he cried tohimself. "Kinsman, forgive me! Nay, you know now and will have pity. Iam but man and young, and have so madly loved and been so tortured. NowI may look into her eyes and do no wrong, but only great Love'sbidding. My blood beats in my veins--my heart leaps up so and will_not_ be still. "

'Twas deep autumn and a day of gold--the sunset burned and flamed andpiled the sky with golden mountains such as had heaped upon each otheron the evening he had stood with his mother at the Long Gallery windowbefore their last parting; the trees' branches were orange and amberand russet brown, the moors had gold hues on them, and on the terracesthe late flowers blooming blazed crimson and yellow as if the summerhad burned all paler and less sumptuous colour away. The gables andturrets of the tower rose clear soft grey, or dark with ivy, against asky of deepest blue, the broad tree-studded acres of the park rolledyellowing green to Camylott village, where white cottages nestled amongorchards and fields of corn and were enfolded by wooded hills andrising moorland. Occasional farm-yard sounds were to be heard minglednow and then with voices and laughter of children, rooks cawed in thehigh tree-tops with a lazy irregularity, and there was an autumnfreshness in the ambient air. In the courtyard the fountain played witha soft plashing, and as he rode in some little birds were chirping andfluttering as they drank and flirted the water with their wings. Thewide doors were thrown open, showing the beauteous huge hall with itspictures and warm colours, its armour and trophies of the chase; theservants stood waiting to receive him, and as the groom took his horse, Mr. Fox approached to greet him on the threshold. Every face had kindlywelcome in it, every object seemed to recall some memory whichbelonged to his happiest youth--to those years when all had been sowarm and fair. 

"Yes, " he said later, as he stood at the window in the Long Gallery andlooked forth. "God grant I have come home. "

What hours, what days and nights he spent in the weeks that followed. In truth they were too full of intense feeling to be wholly happy. Manya night he woke trembling from dreams of anguish. There were threedreams which came again and again--one was of the morning when shegalloped past him in the narrow lane with the strange look in her eyes, and he never dreamed it without a nightmare sense of mad despair andloss from which his own wild cry to her would wake him; another was ofthe night she passed him on the stair, and did not see him. Oh, God(for 'twas in this wise the dream always came), she did not see him. She passed him by again. And there was left only the rose lying at hisfeet. And he should never see her face again! And one was of the nighthe spent in his room alone at Dunstan's Wolde--the night when he hadtorn the laces from his throat that he might breathe, and had knownhimself a frenzied man--while her happy bridegroom to be had slept anddreamed of her. 

From such dreams he would waken with an unreasoning terror--anightmare in itself--a sense that even now, even when both were freeand he had seen that in her eyes his soul sought for and cried outto--even now some Fate might come between and tear them apart, thattheir hearts should never beat against each other--never! And, intruth, cold sweat would break forth on his body and he would springfrom his bed and pace to and fro, lighting the tapers that he mightdrive the darkness from him. 

"Naught shall come between!" he would cry. "Naught under God'sHeaven--naught on Gods' earth! No man, nor fate, nor devil!"

For he had borne his burden too long, and even for his strength andendurance its heaviness had been too great. 

In these weeks of solitude at Camylott he thought much of him who hadpassed from earth, of the years they had been friends, of the days theyhad ridden through the green lanes together or walked in the LongGallery, he himself but a child, the other his mature and affectionatecompanion. He had loved and been beloved, and now he was gone, leavingbehind him no memory which was not tender and full of affectionatereverence. 

"Never, " was Osmonde's thought, "in all the years we knew each otherdid I hear him utter a thought which was ungenerous or unjust. You, mylord, " he found himself saying aloud one day, "have sure left earth'sregrets behind and see with clearer eyes than ours. A man--loving asyou yourself loved, yearning as you yourself yearned--you will but pitywith a tender soul. "

And he could but remember his last interview with Mistress Anne on hisbidding farewell to Dunstan's Wolde after the funeral obsequies. 

"'Tis a farewell I bid the place, " he had said, "though I may see itagain. I came here as a boy, and in the first years of my youngmanhood, and he was always here to bid me welcome. One of my earliestmemories"--they stood in the large saloon together, and he raised hiseyes to a picture near them--"one of my first recollections here is ofthis young face with its blushing cheeks, and of my lord's sorrowfultenderness as he told me that she had died and that his littleson--who, had he lived, might have been as myself--had died with her. "

Whereupon Mistress Anne, with innocent tears and lowered voice, toldhim a story of how the night before her lord had been laid to rest, hiswidow had sat by his side through the slow hours, and had stroked hiscold hands and spoken softly to him as if he could feel her lovingness, and on the morning before he left her, she had folded in his clasp aminiature of his young dead wife and a lock of her soft hair and herchild's. 

"And 'twas, indeed, a tender, strange thing to see and hear, " saidAnne, "for she said with such noble gentleness, that 'twas the firstsweet lady who had been his wife--not herself--and that when she andher child should run to meet him in heaven he would forget that theyhad ever parted--and all would be well. Think you it will be so, yourGrace?" her simple, filled eyes lifted to him appealingly. 

"There is no marrying or giving in marriage, 'tis said, " answered hisGrace, "and she whom he loved first--in his youth--surely----"

Mistress Anne's eyes dwelt upon him in quiet wondering. 

"'Tis strange how your Grace and her ladyship sometimes utter the samethoughts, as if you were but one mind, " she said. "'No marrying orgiving in marriage, ' 'twas that she herself said. "

Dunstan's Wolde passed into the hands of the next heir, and thecountess and her sister went to their father's estate of Wildairs inGloucestershire, where, during the mourning, they lived in deepseclusion. 'Twas a long mourning, to the wonder of the neighbourhood, who, being accustomed to look upon this young lady as likely to furnishthem forth with excitement, had begun at once to make plans for herfuture and decide what she would do next. Having been rid of her oldhusband and left an earl's widow with a fine fortune, a town house, andsome of the most magnificent jewels in England, 'twas not likely shewould long bury herself in an old country house, hiding her beauty inweeds and sad-coloured draperies. She would make her period ofseclusion as brief as decency would permit, and after it reappear in ablaze of brilliancy. 

But she remained at Wildairs with her sister, Mistress Anne, only beingseen on occasions at church, in her long and heavy draperies of black. 

"But she is a strange mixture, " said my Lord Twemlow's Chaplain, inspeaking of her, "and though she hath so changed, hath scarce changedat all. Her black eye can flame as bright as ever under her longwidow's veil. She visits the poor with her sister, and gives charities, but she will have no beggarly tricks, and can pick out a hypocrite athis first whining, howsoever clever he may be. One came to her lastweek with a lying tale of having loved the old Earl Dunstanwolde, andbeen his pensioner for years. And to see her mark the weak points ofhis story, and to hear the wit with which she questioned him until hebroke down affrighted, was a thing to marvel at. 

"'Think you, ' she said, 'that I will let knaves trade on my lord'sgoodness, and play tricks in his name? You shall all see. In thestocks you shall sit and repent it--a warning to other rascals. '"

But in the miserable, long-neglected village of Wildairs she did suchdeeds as made her remembered to the end of many lives. No village wasin worse case than this had been for years, as might well be expected. Falling walls, rotting thatches, dirt and wretchedness were to be seenon all sides; cottages were broken-paned and noisome, men and women whoshould have been hale were drawn with rheumatism from moulderingdampness, or sodden with drink and idleness; children who should havebeen rosy and clean and studying their horn books, at the dame school, were little, dirty, evil, brutal things. 

"And no blame of theirs, but yours, " said my lady to her father. 

"Thou didst not complain in days gone by, Clo, " said Sir Jeoffry, "butswore at them roundly when they ran in thy horse's way as thou went atgallop through the village, and called the men and women lousy pigs whoshould be whipt. "

"Did I?" said her ladyship, looking at him with large eyes. "Ay, that Idid. In those days surely I was mad and blind. "

"Wildairs village is no credit to its owner, " grumbled Sir Jeoffry. "Wherefore should it be? I am a poor man--I can do naught for it. "

"I can, " said my Lady Dunstanwolde. 

And so she did, but at first when she entered the tumbledown cottages, looking so tall, a black figure in her sweeping draperies and widow'sveil, the people were more than half affrighted. But soon she won themfrom their terror with her own strange power, and they found that shewas no longer the wild young lady who had dashed through their hamletin hunting garb, her dogs following her, and the glance of her blackeyes and the sound of her mocking laugh things to flee before. Her eyeshad grown kind, and she had a way none could resist, and showed asingular knowledge of poor folks' wants and likings. Her goodness tothem was not that of the ordinary lady who felt that flannel petticoatsand soup and scriptural readings made up the sum of all requirements. There were other things she knew and talked to them of, as if they werehuman creatures like herself. 

"I can carry to them food and raiment, " said Mistress Anne, wonderingat her, "but when I try to talk with them I am afraid and have nowords. But you, sister--when you sate by that poor distraught youngwoman yesterday and talked to her of her husband who had met suchsudden death--you knew what to say, and in the midst of her agony sheturned in her bed and lay and stared at you and listened. "

"Yes, I knew, " said my lady--her eyes shining. "She is passing throughwhat I might pass through if----! Those two poor souls--rustics, andignorant, who to greater people seem like cattle--they were man andwoman who had loved and mated. They could not have told their joy orthe meaning of it. I could--I could! And now her mate is gone--and theworld is empty, and she is driven mad. I know, I know! Only anotherwoman who _knew_ could have uttered words she would have listened to. "

"What--what did you say?" said Mistress Anne--and almost gasped, for mylady looked so full of tragic truth and passion, and how could sheknow? being only the widow of an old man whom she had but loved withkindness, as if she had been his daughter? 'Twas not through her lossof my Lord Dunstanwolde she knew. And yet, know she did, 'twas plain. 

And her answer was the strangest, daring proof. 

"I said to her--almost fiercely, though I spoke beneath my breath, 'Hehath not left thee: Thou wouldst not have left him. Thou couldst not. Remember! Think! Thou canst not see him, but thee he sees, andloves--_loves_, I tell thee, as he did two weeks since. Perhaps heholds thee in his arms and cries to thee to hear him. Perhaps 'tis hewho speaks in these words of mine. When we have loved them and they us, death is not strong enough to part us. Love holds too close. Listen?He is here!'"

"Heaven's mercy!" cried gentle Mistress Anne, the tears running downher cheeks. "There seems no Death, when you talk thus, sister--noDeath. "

"There is none, " said my lady, "when Love comes. When Love has come, there is naught else in Nature's universe, for it is stronger thanall. "

And 'twas as if she were some prophetess who spoke, her face and eyesglowed with such fire and solemness. But Mistress Anne, gazing at her, thrilled to her heart's core, had a strange sense of fear, wonderingwhence this mood had come, how it had grown, and what it might bringforth in the unknown future. 

The custom of the time held that a widowed lady should mourn retired ayear, but 'twas near two before her ladyship of Dunstanwolde came forthfrom her seclusion, and casting her weeds returned to town. And my LordDuke of Osmonde had come again to Camylott when the news was spread. 

He had been engaged in grave business, and having been abroad upon ithad, on his return, travelled at once to the country. To Camylott hecame because it was his refuge in all unrestful hours or deeply graveones--the broad, heavenly scene spread out before it soothed him whenhe gazed through its windows, the waving and rustle of the many hugetrees on every side never ceased to bring back to him something of thefeeling he had had in his childhood, that they were mighty andmysterious friends who hushed him as a child is hushed to sleep; and sohe came to Camylott for a few days' repose before re-entering Courtlife with its tumults and broils and scheming. 

In a certain comfortable suite of rooms which had once been a part ofthe nurseries there lived at peaceful ease an aged woman who loved hisGrace well and faithfully, and had so loved him from his childhood, knowing indeed more of the intimate details of his life and career thanhe himself imagined. This old gentlewoman was Mistress Rebecca Halsell, the whilom chieftainess of the nursery department, and having failed inhealth as age drew near her, she had been generously installed a quietpensioner in her old domain. When the Marquess of Roxholm had returnedfrom his first campaign he had found her living in these apartments--awoman nearing seventy, somewhat bent with rheumatism, and white-haired, but with the grave, clear eyes he remembered, still undimmed. 

"I hope to be here still, my lord Marquess, " she had said, "when youbring your lady home to us--even perhaps when the nurseries are thrownopen again. I have been a happy woman in these rooms since the firsthour I entered them and took your lordship from Nurse Alison's arms. "

She had led a happy life, being surrounded by every comfort, all theservants being her friends, and she spending her days with books andsimple work, sitting chiefly at the large window from whence she couldsee the park, and the avenue where the company came and went, and ondays when there was naught else stirring, watch the rookery with itscolony of rooks flying to and fro quarrelling or sitting in judgment onaffairs of state, settling their big nests, and marrying and giving inmarriage. 

When his Grace was at the tower he paid her often a friendly visit, andentertained her bravely with stories of camp and Court until, indeed, she had become a wondrous stateswoman, and knew quite well the meritsof Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and had her own views of the changingfavourites and their bitter struggles to attain their ends. On thisoccasion of his return, my lord Duke going to give her greeting, foundher parting with a friend, a comely country woman who left themcourtesying, and Mistress Halsell sate in her armchair with somewhat ofa glow in her grave eyes. And after their first exchange of words theroom was for a few moments very quiet. 

"Your Grace, " she said, "before she, who has just left us, came, Isate here and thought of a day many a year ago when you and I satetogether, and your Grace climbed on my knee. "

"I have climbed there many a time, Nurse Halsell, " he said, his browneye opening, laughing, as it had a trick of doing. 

"But this time was a grave one, " Mistress Halsell answered. "We talkedof grave things, and in my humble way I strove to play Chaplain andpreach a sermon. You had heard Grace and Alison gossip of King Charlesand Madam Carwell and Nell Gwynne--and would ask questions it was hardto answer. "

"I remember well, " said my lord Duke, the light of memory in his eye, and he added, as one who reflects, "He is the King--he is the King!"

"You remember!" said Nurse Halsell, her old eyes glowing. "I have neverforgot, and your Grace's little face so lost in thought, as you lookedout at the sky. "

"I have remembered it, " said his Grace, "in many a hard hour such ascomes in all men's lives. "

"You have known some such?" said the old woman, and of a sudden, as shegazed at him, it seemed as if such feeling overswept her as made herforget he was a great Duke and remember only her beauteous nurseling. "Yes, you have known them, for I have sate here at the window andwatched, and there have been days when my heart was like to break. "

He started and turned towards her. Her deep eyes were full of tearswhich brimmed over and ran down her furrowed cheeks, and in them he sawa tender and wise knowledge of his nature's self and all its pains--athing of which, before, he had never dreamed, for how could he haveimagined that an old woman living alone could have so followed him withher heart that she had guessed his deepest secret; but this indeed shehad, and her next words most touchingly revealed it. 

"Being widowed and childless when I came to you, " she said, her emotionrising to a passion, "'twas as if you grew to be my own--and in thosesummer days three years gone, life and love were strong in you--lifeand love and youth. And _her_ eyes dared not turn to you, nor yours toher--and I am a woman and was afraid--for my man who died and left mewidowed was my lover as well as my husband, and soul and body we hadbeen one--so I _knew!_ But as I sate here and saw you as you passedbelow with your company, I said it to myself again and again, 'He isthe King--he is the King!'" And as his Grace rose from his seat, notangered, indeed, gazing at her tenderly, though growing pale, sheseized his hand and kissed it, her tears falling. 

"If 'tis unseemly, " she said, "forgive me, your Grace, forgive me; butI had sate here so long this very morning, and thought but of thisthing--and in the midst of my thinking came this woman, and she is fromGloucestershire, and told me of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde--whosechariot passed her on the road, and she goes up to town, and roderadiant and blooming in rich colours, having cast her weeds aside andlooking, so the woman said, like a beauteous creature new born, withall of life to come. "

_CHAPTER XXIV_

_Sir John Oxon Returns Also_

When his Grace of Osmonde returned to town he found but one topic ofconversation, and this was of such interest and gave such a fillip togossip and chatter that fierce Sarah of Marlborough's encounters withMrs. Masham, and her quarrels with Majesty itself, were for the timeactually neglected. Her Grace had engaged in battles royal for so longa time and with such activity that the Court and the world were alittle wearied and glad of something new. And here was a most promisingevent which might be discussed from a thousand points and bring forthpretty stories of past and present, as well as prophecies for thefuture. 

The incomparable and amazing Clorinda, Countess of Dunstanwolde, havingmourned in stately retirement for near upon two years (when Fashiondemanded but one) and having paid such reverence to her old lord'smemory as had seemed almost the building of a monument to his virtues, had cast her sables, left the country, and come up to town to reignagain at Dunstanwolde House, which had been swept and garnished. 

At Court, and in all the modish houses in the town, one may be surethat the whole story of her strange life was told and retold with ascore of imaginative touches. Her baby oaths were resworn, her childishwickedness depicted in colours which glowed, the biographies of therough old country rakes who had trained her were related, in freetranslation, so to speak, over many a dish of chocolate and tea, and, these points dwelt on, what more dramatic than to turn upon thesingular fortune of her marriage, the wealth, rank, and reputation ofthe man who had so worshipped her, and the unexpectedness of her graceand decorum the while she bore his name and shared his home with him. 

"Had she come up to town, " 'twas remarked, "and once having caught him, played the vixen and the shrew, turned his house into a bear-garden, behaved unseemly and put him to shame, none would have beensurprised----"

"Many would have been all agog with joy, " interrupted old Lady Stormswho heard. "She was a woeful disappointment to many a gossiping woman, and a lesson to all the shifty fools who sell themselves to a man, andthen trick him out of the price he paid. "

At the clubs and coffee-houses the men talked also, though men'stongues do not run as fast as the tongues of womenkind, and theirgossip was of a masculine order. She was a finer creature than ever, and at present was the richest widow in England. A man might well losehis wits over her mere self if she had naught but the gown she stoodin, but he who got her would get all else beside. The new beaux and theold ones began to buy modish habits and periwigs, adorn themselves withnew sword and shoulder knots, and trifle over the latest essencesoffered in the toyshops. 

"Split me, " said one splendid fop, "but since my lady returned to townthe price of ambergris and bergamot and civet powders has mountedperilously, and the mercers are all too busy to be civil. When I sentmy rascal this morning to buy the Secret White Water to CurlGentlemen's Hair, on my life he was told he must wait for it, since newmust be made, as all had been engaged. "

One man at that time appeared at the Cocoa Tree and Cribb's with a newrichness of garb and a look in his face such as had not been seen therefor many a day. In truth, for some time the coffee-houses had seen butlittle of him, and it had sometimes been said that he had fled thecountry to escape his creditors, or might be spending his days in adebtors' prison, since he had no acquaintances who would care to lookfor him if he were missing, and he might escape to France, or be seizedand rot in gaol, and none be the wiser. 

But on a night even a little before the throwing open of DunstanwoldeHouse, he sauntered into the Cocoa Tree and, having become so uncommona sight, several turned to glance at him. 

"Egad!" one cried low to another, "'tis Jack Oxon back again. Wheredoth the fellow spring from?"

His good looks it had been hard for him to lose, they being such aswere built of delicately cut features, graceful limbs, and an elegantair, but during the past year he had often enough looked haggard, vicious, and of desperate ill-humour, besides out of fashion, if notout at elbow. Now his look had singularly changed, his face wasfresher, his eye brighter, though a little feverish in its light, andhe wore a new sword and velvet scabbard, a rich lace steenkirk, and amodish coat of pale violet brocade. 

"Where hast come from, Jack?" someone asked him. "Hast been into anunnery?"

"Yes, " he answered, "doing penance for _thy_ sins, having none of myown. "

"Hast got credit again, I swear, " cried the other, "or thou wouldst notlook such a dandy. "

Sir John sate down and called for refreshment, which a drawer broughthim. 

"A man can always get credit, " he said, with an ironic, cool littlesmile, "when his fortunes take a turn. "

"Thou look'st as if thine had turned, " said his companion. "Purple andsilver, and thy ringlets brushed and perfumed like a girl's. In thyeyes 'tis a finer mop than any other man's French periwig, all know. "

Sir John looked down on his shoulders at his soft rich fall of curlsand smiled. "'Tis finer, " he said. "'Tis as fine for a man as a certainbeauty's, we once talked of, was for a woman. "

The man who talked with him laughed with a half-sneer. 

"Thou canst not forget her hair, Jack, " he said, "but the lock stayedon her head despite thee. Art going to try again, now she is a widow?"

Sir John looked up from his drink and in his eye there leapt up a devilin spite of himself, for he had meant--if he could--to keep cool. 

"Ay, " he said, "by God! I am. "

So when men talked of Lady Dunstanwolde 'twas not unnatural that, thisstory having been bruited about, they should talk also of Jack Oxon, and since they talked to each other, the rumour reached feminine earswhich pricked themselves at once; and when my lord Duke of Osmonde cameto town and went into the world, he also heard discussions of Sir JohnOxon. This gentleman who had been missing in the World of Fashion hadreappeared, and 'twas believed had returned to life to try his fortuneswith my Lady Dunstanwolde. And 'twas well known indeed that he hadbeen the first lover she had known, for the elderly country roisterershad been naught but her playmates and her father's boon companions, andSir John had appeared at the famous birthnight supper and had been theonly town man who had ever seen her in her male attire, and was amongthose who toasted her when she returned to the banquet-room splendid incrimson and gold, and ordered all to fall upon their knees before her;and Sir John--(he was then in the heyday of his beauty and success) hadgone mad with love for her, and 'twas believed that she had returnedhis passion, as any girl well might, though she was so proud-spirited acreature that none could be quite sure. At least 'twas known that hehad laid seige to her, and for near two years had gone often to thecountry, and many had seen him gaze at her in company when his passionwas writ plain in his blue eyes. Suddenly, on his reappearance, sincehe for some unknown reason wore the look of a man whose fortunes mighthave changed for the better, there were those among whom the tide tooka turn somewhat in Sir John's favour. 'Twas even suggested by a womanof fashion, given somewhat to romance, that perhaps the poor man hadfallen into evil ways and lost his good looks and elegant air throughthwarted passion, and 'twas thought indeed a touching thing that atthe first gleam of hope he should emerge from his retirement almostrestored in spirit and bloom. 

The occupants of coaches and chairs passing before the entrance toOsmonde House, which was a great mansion situated in a garden, notedbut a few days after the world had heard her ladyship was in town, thathis Grace had returned also. Lacqueys stood about the entrance, and theOsmonde liveries were to be seen going to and fro in the streets, theDuke was observed to drive to Kensington and back, and to St. James's, and the House of Parliament, and it was known was given audience by theQueen upon certain secret matters of State. 'Twas indeed at this timethat the changes were taking place in her Majesty's councils, and hisanticipation of a ministerial revolution had so emboldened King Louisthat he had ventured to make private overtures to the royal lady'sconfidential advisers. "What we lose in Flanders we shall gain inEngland, " Marlborough's French enemy, Torcy, had said. And between theanger and murmurs of a people who had turned to rend a whilom idol, theintrigues and cabals about the throne, the quarrels of her counsellorsand ladies of the bedchamber, and the passionate reproaches of thestrongest and most indomitable of female tyrants, 'twas small wonder adull, ease-loving woman, feeling the burden of her royalty all toowearisome and heavy, should turn with almost pathetic insistence to aman young enough to be her son, attractive enough to be a favourite, high enough to be impeccable, and of such clear wit, strength of willand resource, and power over herself and others as seemed to set himapart from all the rest of those who gathered to clamour about her. Intruth, my lord Duke's value to her Majesty was founded greatly uponthat which had drawn his Grace of Marlborough to him. He wantednothing; all the others had some desire to gain, secret or avowed. Thewoman who had so longed for unregal feminine intimacy and companionshipthat with her favoured attendant she had played a comedy of privatelife--doffing her queenship and becoming simple "Mrs. Morley, " thatwith "Mrs. Freeman, " at least, she might forget she was a Queen--wasnot formed by Nature to combat with State intrigues and Courtduplicities. 

"I am given no quiet, " the poor august lady said. "These people whoresign places and demand them, who call meetings and create a ferment, these ladies who vituperate and clamour like deserted lovers, weary me. Your Grace's strength brings me repose!"

And as the father had felt sympathy and pity for poor Catherine ofBraganza in Charles the Second's day, so the son felt pity and gavewhat support he could to poor bullied and bewildered Queen Anne. Tohim her queenship was truly the lesser thing, her helpless, somewhatheavy-witted and easily wavering womanhood the greater; and there werethose who feared him, for such reasons as few men in his position hadbeen feared before. 

His Grace had been but two days in town, and on the morning of thesecond had driven in his chariot to Kensington, and had an audienceupon the private matter already spoken of, and which would in alllikelihood take him, despite his wishes, across the Channel and to theFrench Court. He might be commanded away at the very moment that hewished most to be on English soil, in London itself. For howsoeverardent and long hidden a man's passion, he must, if he be delicate offeeling, await that moment which is ripe for him to speak. And this hepondered on as his chariot rolled through the streets to bear him tomake his first visit to her ladyship of Dunstanwolde. 

"I have known and dreamed of her almost all her life, " he thought. "'Tis but three years since she first saw my face; through the firstyear she was another man's wife, and these two last his mourning widow. When I behold her to day I shall learn much. "

The sun was shining gloriously, and the skies' blue was deep and clear. He looked up at it as he drove, and at the fresh early summer greennessof the huge trees and thick grass in the parks and gardens; and whenhis equipage rolled into the court at Dunstanwolde House, he smiled tohimself for pleasure to see its summer air, with the lacqueys makingexcuse to stand outside in the brightness of the day, little Nero, theblack negro page, sunning himself and his pugs and spaniels on the plotof grass at the front, and the windows thrown open to let in the softfresh air, while the balconies before the drawing-room casements werefilled with masses of flowers--yellow and white perfumed things, sentup fresh from the country and set in such abundance that the balconiesbloomed like gardens. The last time he had beheld her, she had stood byher husband's coffin, swathed in long, heavy draperies of black, looking indeed a wonderful tragic figure; and this was in his mind ashe walked up the broad staircase, followed by the lacquey, who a momentlater flung open the door of the saloon and announced him with solemnmajesty. 

But oh! the threshold once crossed, the great white-and-gold decoratedapartment seemed flooded with sunlight and filled with the fragrance ofdaffodils and jonquils and narcissus blown in through the open window, and Mistress Anne sate sweet and modest in a fine chair too big for herdear small body; but my lord Duke scarce could see her, for 'twas as ifthe sun shone in his eyes when there rose from a divan to meet him atall goddess clad in white and with a gold ribband confining her blackhair and her waist, and a branch of yellow-gold flowers in her hand, which looked as if surely she might just have gathered them on theterrace at Camylott. 

And she had surely by some magic blotted out the past and had awakenedto a present which was like new birth and had no past, for she blushedthe loveliest, radiant blush--at sight of him--as if she had been nogreat lady, but a sweet, glowing girl. 

What he said to her, or she to him, he knew no more than any lesser manin his case knows, for he was in a whirl of wonder and strange delight, and could scarce hold in his mind that there was need that he should besober, this being his first visit to her since she had cast the weedsworn for his own kinsman; and there sate Mistress Anne, changing fromred to white, as if through some great secret emotion--though he didnot know 'twas at the sight of them standing together, and the suddenknowledge and joy it brought to her, which made her very heart to quakein its tenderness. This--_this_ was the meaning of what she had sowondered at in her sister's mood when they spoke of the poor girl leftwidowed; this was how she had known, and if so, she must have learnedit in her own despite at first, in that year when she had been a boundwoman, when they two had been forced to encounter each other, holdingtheir hearts in gyves of iron and making no sound or sign. And the fondcreature remembered the night before the marriage when she had passedthrough a strange scene in her sister's chamber, and one thing she hadsaid came back to her, and now she understood its meaning. 

"I love my Lord Dunstanwolde as well as any other man, and better thansome, for I do not hate him. Since I have been promised to him"--('twasthis which now came back to her)--"I own I have for a moment metanother gentleman who _might_--'twas but for a moment, and 'tis donewith. "

And this--this had been he, his Grace the Duke of Osmonde--who was sofit a mate for her, and whose brown eyes so burned with love. And shewas a free woman, and there they stood at the open window among theflowers--both bound, both free!

Free! She started a little as she said the word in thought again, forshe knew a strange wild story none other than herself knew, and hersister, and Sir John Oxon, and they did not suspect she shared theirsecret. And for long it had seemed to her only some cruel thing she haddreamed; and the wild lovely creature she had watched and stood guardover with such trembling, during a brief season of bewildered anguish, seemed to be a sort of vision also. At the end of but a few shortmonths Mistress Anne had felt this lawless, beauteous being had leftthe splendid body she had inhabited, and another woman's life had begunin it--another woman's. That woman it was who had wed Lord Dunstanwoldeand made him a blissful man, that woman had been since then her sister, her protector, and her friend; 'twas she who had watched by my lord'sbody, and spoke low words to him, and stroked his poor dead hand; 'twasshe who laid his wife's hair and her child's, and the little picture, on his still breast; 'twas she who sate by the widowed girl atWildairs--and 'twas she, she made glorious by love, who stood andsmiled among the window's daffodils. 

His Grace and her ladyship were speaking softly together of theflowers, the sunshine, of the town and Court, and of beauteousCamylott. Once my lord Duke's laugh rang out, rich and gay like aboy's, and there was such youth and fire and happiness in his handsomeface as made Mistress Anne remember that, as it was with my lady, so itwas with him--that because he was so tall and great and stately, theworld forgot that he was young. 

"But, " said the loving woman to herself with a sudden fear, "if _he_should come back. Nothing so cruel could happen--'tis past and dead andforgiven. He could not--could not come. "

Then his Grace went away. My lady spoke sweet and gracious words to himwith the laughing, shining eyes of Clo Wildairs at her most wondroushours, and the Duke holding her hand, bent and kissed it with thetender passion of a hungered man, as he had not dared to dream ofkissing it before. 

And he went down the staircase a new man, carrying his head as though acrown had been set on it and he would bear it nobly. In his tawny eyethere was a smile which was yet solemn though it was deeply bright. 

"'Tis the beginning of the world, " he said inwardly--"'And the eveningand the morning were the first day. ' I have looked into her eyes. "

And as his chariot rolled through the entrance into the street, anotherpassed it and entered the court, and through the glass he saw a fairman, richly dressed, his bright curls falling soft and thick on hisshoulders; and he was arranging the ribband of his sword-knot, andsmiling a little with downcast eyes--and it was Sir John Oxon. 

_CHAPTER XXV_

_To-morrow_

A dozen gentlemen at least, rumour said, would have rejoiced to end forher, by marriage, this lovely lady's widowhood; but there were but twoshe would be like to choose between, and they were different menindeed. One of them, both her heart and her ambition might have causedher to make choice of, for he combined such qualities and fortunes asmight well satisfy either. 

"Zounds, " said an old beau, "the woman who wants more than his Grace ofOsmonde can give--more money, greater estates, and more good looks--islike to go unsatisfied to her grave. She will take him, I swear, andsmile like Heaven in doing it. "

"But there was a time, " said Sir Chris Crowell, who had come to town(to behold his beauty's conquests, as he said) and who spent much timeat the coffee-houses and taverns telling garrulous stories of the daysof Mistress Clo of Wildairs, "there was a time when I would have tookoath that Jack Oxon was the man who would have her. Lord! he was thefirst young handsome thing she had ever met--and she was but fifteenfor all her impudence, and had lived in the country and seen naughtbut a handful of thick-bodied, red-faced old rakes. And Jack was butfour and twenty and fresh from town, and such a beauty that there wasnot a dairymaid in the country but was heartbroke by him--though he mayhave done no more than cast his devilish blue eye on her. For he had away, I tell ye, that lad, he had a way with him that would have tookany woman in. A dozen parts he could play and be a wonder in every oneof them--and languish, and swear oaths, and repent his sins, and pleadfor mercy, with the look of an angel come to earth, and bring a womanto tears--and sometimes ruin, God knows!--by his very playing of themountebank. Good Lord! to see those two at the birthnight supper was asight indeed. My Lady Oxon she would have been, if either of them hadbeen a fortune. But 'twas Fate--and which jilted the other, Heavenknows. And if 'twas _he_ who played false, and he would come back now, he will find he hath fire to deal with--for my Lady Dunstanwolde is afierce creature yet, though her eye shines so soft in these days. " Andhe puffed at his churchwarden's pipe and grinned. 

Among the men who had been her playmates it would seem that perhapsthis old fellow had loved her best of all, or was more given to beingdemonstrative, or more full of a good-natured vanity which exulted inher as being a sort of personal property to vaunt and delight in; atall events Sir Chris had come to the town, where he had scarce evervisited in all his life before, and had in a way constituted himself asort of henchman or courtier of her ladyship of Dunstanwolde. 

At her house he presented himself when first he came up--short, burly, red-faced, and in his best Gloucestershire clothes, which indeed wore arustic air when borne to London on the broad back of a countrygentleman in a somewhat rusty periwig. 

When he beheld the outside stateliness of the big town mansion hegrinned with delight; when he entered its doors and saw its interiorsplendours he stared about him with wondering eyes; and when he waspassed from point to point by one tall and gorgeously liveried lacqueyafter another, he grew sober. When her ladyship came to him shortlyafter, she found him standing in the middle of the magnificent saloon(which had been rearranged and adorned for her by her late lord inwhite and golden panels, with decoration of garlands and Cupids andbrocades after the manner of the French King Louis Fourteenth), and hewas gazing about him still, and now scratching his periwig absently. 

"Eh, my lady, " he said, making an awkward bow, as if he did not knowhow to bear himself in the midst of such surroundings; "thy father wasright. "

Never had he seen a lady clad in such rich stuffs and looking so grandand like a young queen, but her red lips parted, showing her whiteteeth, and her big black eyes laughed as merrily as ever he had seenthem when Clo Wildairs tramped across the moors with him, her gun overher fustian shoulder. 

"Was he so?" she cried, taking hold of his thick hand and drawing himtowards a huge gold carved sofa. "Come and tell me then when he wasright, and if 'twas thou wast wrong. "

Sir Chris stared at her a minute, straight at her arch, brilliant face, and then his rueful countenance relaxed itself into a grin. 

"Ecod!" he said, still staring hard, "thou art not changed a whit. "

"Ecod!" she said, mocking him, "but I am that. Shame on thee to denyit. I am a Countess and have been presented to the Queen, and cast myill manners, and can make a Court obeisance. " And she made him a great, splendid courtesy, sweeping down amidst her rich brocades as if shewould touch the floor. 

"Lord! Lord!" he said, and scratched his periwig again. "Thou look'stlike a Queen thyself. But 'tis thy big eyes are not changed, Clo, thatlaughed so through the black fringes of them, like stars shiningthrough a bush, and--and thy saucy way that makes a man want to seizehold on thee and hug thee--though--though--" He checked himself, half-frightened, but she laughed out at him with that bell-likeclearness he remembered so well, and which he swore afterwards wouldput heart into any man. 

"'Tis no harm that a man should want to seize hold upon a woman, " shesaid; "'tis a thing men are given to, poor souls, and 'tis said Heavenmade them so; but let him not be unwary and strive to do it. Towngentlemen know 'tis not the fashion. "

Sir Chris chuckled and looked about him again. 

"Clo, " he said, "since thou hast laughed at me and I am not frightenedby thy grandness, as I was at first, I will tell thee. I am going tostay in Lunnon for awhile, and look on at thee, and be a town manmyself. Canst make a town man of me, Clo?"--grinning. 

"Yes, " answered her ladyship, holding her head on one side to look himover, "with a velvet coat and some gold lace, and a fine new periwigscented with orris or jessamine, and a silver-gilt sword and a hatcocked smartly, and a snuff-box, with a lady's picture in it. I willgive thee mine, and thou shalt boast of it in company. "

He slapped his thigh and laughed till his red face grew purple. 

"Nay, " he said, "thy father was wrong. He said I was a fool to come, for such as me and him was out of place in town, and fine ladies'drawing-rooms would make us feel like stable-boys. He said I would beheart-sick and shame-faced in twelve hours, and turn tail and come backto Gloucestershire like a whipt dog--but I shall not, I swear, butshall be merrier and in better heart than I have been since I wasyoung. It gets dull in the country, Clo, " shaking his head, "when a mangets old and heavy, and 'tis worst when he has no children left to keephim stirring. I have took a good lodging in the town, and I will dressmyself like a Court gentleman and go to the coffee-houses and the play, and hear the wits. And I shall watch thy coach-and-six drive by andtell the company I was thy playmate when thou wert Clo Wildairs; andthou art not too fine a lady, even now thou art a Court beauty and aCountess, to be kind to an old fellow from the country. "

He strutted away from the mansion, the proudest and happiest man inLondon, giving his hat a jaunty cock and walking with an air, his oldheart beating high with joy to feel that this beautiful creature hadnot forgot old days and did not disdain him. He went to tailors andmercers and wig-makers and furnished himself forth with finebelongings, and looked a town gentleman indeed when he came to exhibithimself to my lady; and before long the Mall and the park becamefamiliar with his sturdy old figure and beaming country face, and thebeauties and beaux and wits began to know him, and that he had been oneof Mistress Clorinda Wildairs's companions in her Gloucestershire days, and had now come to town, drawn simply by his worship of her, that hemight delight himself by looking on at her triumphs. 

There were many who honestly liked his countrified, talkative goodnature, and inviting him to their houses made a favourite of him; andthere were others who encouraged him, to hear him tell his stories; andseveral modish beauties amused themselves by coquetting with him, oneof these being my Lady Betty Tantillion, who would tease and ogle himuntil he was ready to lose his wits in his elderly delight. One of herfavourite tricks was to pout at him and twit him on his adoration of myLady Dunstanwolde, of whom she was in truth not too fond; though shehad learned to keep a civil tongue in her head, since her ladyship wasa match for half a dozen such as she, and, when she chose to use hercutting wit, proved an antagonist as greatly to be feared as in thedays when Lady Maddon, the fair and frail "Willow Wand, " had falleninto hysteric fits in the country mercer's shop. 

"You men always lose your wits when you see her, " she would say. "'Tissaid Sir John Oxon"--with a malicious little glance at that gentleman, who stood near her ladyship across the room--"'tis said Sir John Oxonlost more, and broke a fine match, and squandered his fortune, and sankinto the evilest reputation--all for love of her. "

She turned to his Grace of Osmonde, who was near, waving her fanlanguishing. "Has your Grace heard that story?" she asked. His Graceapproached smiling--he never could converse with this young ladywithout smiling a little--she so bore out all the promise of herschool-girl letters and reminded him of the night when he had found herbrother, Ensign Tom, and Bob Langley grinning and shouting over herhomilies on the Gloucestershire beauty. 

"Which one is it?" he said. "Your ladyship has been kind enough to tellme so many. "

"'Tis the one about Sir John Oxon and her ladyship of Dunstanwolde, "she answered, with a pretty simper. "All Gloucestershire knew how theywere in love with each other when she was Mistress Wildairs--until shecast him off for my Lord Dunstanwolde. 'Tis said she drove him toruin--but now he has come back to her, and all think she will rememberher first love and yield to him at last. And surely it would be apretty romance. "

"Jack Oxon was not drove to ruin by her ladyship, " cried Sir Chris;"not he. But deep in love with her he was, 'tis sure, and had she beenany other woman she must have been melted by him. Ecod!" looking acrossthe room at the two, with a reflective air, "I wonder if she was!"

"But look at his eyes now, " said my Lady Betty, giving a side glance athis Grace. "They glow like fire, and wheresoever she moves he keepsthem glued on her. "

"She doth not keep hers glued on him, " said Sir Chris, "but looks awayand holds her head up as if she would not see him. "

"That is her way to draw him to her, " cried Lady Betty. "It drives aman wild with love to be so treated--and she is a shrewd beauty; butwhen he can get near enough he stands and speaks into her ear--low, that none may listen. I have seen him do it more than once, and shepretends not to hearken, but hears it all, and murmurs back, no doubt, while she seems to gaze straight before her, and waves her fan. I heardhim speak once when he did not think me close to him, and he said, 'Have you forgot--have you forgot, Clorinda?' and she answered then, but her words I did not hear. " She waved her painted fan with acoquettish flourish. "'Tis not a new way of making love, " she said witharch knowingness. "It hath been done before. "

"He hath drawn near and is speaking to her now, " said Sir Chris, staring wonderingly, "but I swear it does not look like love-making. He looks like a man who threatens. "

"He threatens he will fall on his sword if she will not yield, " laughedLady Betty. "They all swear the same thing. "

My lord Duke moved forward. He had heard this talk often before duringthe past weeks, and he had seen this man haunting her presence, andalways when he was near or spoke to her a strange look on her face, alook as if she made some struggle with herself or him--and strangest ofall, though she was so gracious to himself, something in her eyes hadseemed to hold him back from speaking, as if she said, "Not yet--notyet! Soon--but not yet!" and though he had not understood, it hadbewildered him, and brought back a memory of the day she had sate inthe carven gilded chair and delivered her lord's message to him, andher eyes had pleadingly forbade him to come to Dunstan's Wolde whileher words expressed her husband's hospitable desire. His passion forher was so great and deep, 'twas a fathomless pool whose depths werestirred by every breath of her, and so he had even waited till her eyesshould say--"Now!"

He had moved towards her this moment, because she had looked up at him, as if she needed he should come nearer. She rose from her seat, leavingSir John Oxon where he stood. His Grace moved quicker and they met inthe crowd, and as she looked up at him, he saw that she had lost alittle of her radiant bloom, and she spoke in a low voice like a girl. 

"Will your Grace take me to my coach?" she said. "I am not well. "

And he led her, leaning on his arm, through the crowd to Mistress Anne, who was always glad to leave any assembly--the more brilliant they, thereadier she to desert their throngs--and he escorted them to theircoach, and before he left them asked a question gravely. 

"Will your ladyship permit me, " he said, "to wait on you to-morrow? Iwould know that your indisposition has passed. "

My lady answered him in a low voice from the coach; her colour had comeback, and she gave him her hand which he kissed. Then the equipagerolled away and he entered his own, and being driven back to OsmondeHouse said to himself gravely, over and over again, oneword--"To-morrow!"

But within two hours a messenger in the royal liveries came fromKensington and as quickly as horses could carry him my lord Duke waswith her Majesty, whom he found agitated and pale, important news fromFrance having but just reached her. Immediate action was necessary, and there was none who could so well bear her private messages to theFrench Court as could the man who had no interest of his own to serve, whom Nature and experience peculiarly fitted for the direction ofaffairs requiring discretion, swiftness of perception, self-control, and dignity of bearing. 'Twas his royal Mistress herself who said thesethings to his Grace, and added to her gracious commands manycondescending words and proofs of confidence, which he received withcourtly obeisance but with a galled and burning heart. 

And on the coming of the morrow he was on his way to Versailles, and myLady Dunstanwolde, having received news of the sudden exigency and hisdeparture, sate in her chamber alone gazing as into vacancy, with ahunted look in her wide eyes. 

_CHAPTER XXVI_

_A Dead Rose_

Sovereigns and their thrones, statesmen and their intrigues, favouritesand their quarrels--of what moment are they to a man whose heart is onfire and whose whole being resolves itself into but one thought of butone creature? My lord Duke went to France as he was commanded; he hadbeen before at Versailles and Fontainebleau and Saint Germain, andthere were eyes which brightened at the sight of his tall form, andthere were men who while they greeted him with courteous bows andprofessions of flattering welcome exchanged side glances and asked eachother momentous questions in private. He went about his business withdiscretion and diplomatic skill and found that he had no reason todespair of its accomplishment, but all his thoughts of his errand, though he held his mind steady and could reason clearly on them, seemedto him like the thoughts of a man in a dream who only in his privatemoments awakened to the reality of existence. 

"'Twas Fate again, " he said, "Fate! who has always seemed to stalk inbetween! If I had gone to her on that 'to-morrow, ' I should havepoured forth my soul and hers would have answered me. But there shallbe another to-morrow, and I swear it shall come soon. "

There was but a few hours' journey by land, and the English Channel, between himself and London, and there was much passing to and fro; andthough the French Court had stories enough of its own, new ones werealways welcome, English gossip being thought to have a special heavyquaintness, droll indeed. The Court of Louis found much entertainmentin the Court of Anne, and the frivolities or romances of beauties whoate beef and drank beer and wore, 'twas said, the coquettish commodefounded on lovely Fontange's lace handkerchief, as if it were anightcap. 

"But they have a handsome big creature there now, who is amazing, " theysaid with interest at this time. "She was brought up as a boy at the_château_ of her father, and can fight with swords like a man, but isas beautiful as the day and seven feet tall. It would be a pleasure tosee her. She is at present a widow with an immense fortune, and all thegentlemen fight duels over her. "

Both masculine and feminine members of the Court were much pleased withthis lady and found her more interesting and exciting than any of hersister beauties. Naturally many unfounded anecdotes of her werecurrent, and it was said that she fought duels herself. It was notlong before it was whispered that the handsome Englishman Monsieur leDuc d'Osmonde, the red blonde giant with the great calm eyes, was oneof the two chief pretendants to this picturesque lady's favour. Thus, as was inevitable, my lord Duke heard all the rumours from the Englishcapital in one form or another. Some of them were bitter things for himto hear, for all of them more or less touched upon Sir John Oxon, whoseemed to follow her from playhouse to assembly and to dog her veryfootsteps, while all the world looked on wondering, since her ladyshiptreated him with such unrelenting coldness and disdain. 

His Grace had much to do at this time and did it well, but the daysseemed long, and each piece of English gossip he heard recounted addedto the length of the twenty-four hours. Then there came a story whichcreated an excitement greater than any other, and was chattered overwith a vivacity which made him turn pale. 

In London the wonderful Amazon Milady Dunstanwolde had provided thetown with a new example of her courage and daring spirit. 

"There was a man who owned the most dangerous horse in the country--amonster, a devil. " So his Grace heard the history related for the firsttime in a great lady's _salon_ to breathlessly delighted listeners. "The animal was a horror of vice and temper, but beautiful, beautiful. A skin of black satin, a form incomparable! He has three grooms whotake care of him, and all of them are afraid; he bites, he kicks, herises on his hind legs and falls on those who ride him. None but thosethree men dare try to manage him. Each one is a wonderful rider andhopes to win or subdue him. It is no use. One morning the first of thethree enters his stable and does not come out. He is called and doesnot answer. Someone goes to look. He is there, but he lies in a heap, kicked to death. A few days later the second one manages to mount thehorse, taking him by surprise. At first the animal seems frightenedinto quietness. Suddenly he begins to run; he goes faster and faster, and all at once stops, and his rider flies over his head and is takenup with a broken neck. His owner, who is a horse dealer, orders him tobe shot, but keeps him for a few days because he is so handsome. Who, think you, hears of him and comes to buy him? It is a lady. 'He is thevery beast I want, ' she says. 'It will please me to teach him there issomeone stronger than himself. ' Who is it?" asked the narrator, striking her fair hands together in a sort of exultation. 

"The Countess of Dunstanwolde!" broke in a voice, and all turnedquickly to look at the speaker. It was the Duke of Osmonde. 

How did Monsieur le Duc know at once, they asked laughing, and heanswered them with a slight smile, though someone remarked later thathe had looked pale. He had known that she was a marvellous horsewoman, he had seen her in the hunting-field when she had been a child, he hadheard of her riding dangerous animals before. Everyone knew that shewas without fear. There was no other woman in England who would dare somuch. 

He spoke to them in almost ordinary tones, and heard their exclamationsof admiration or prophetic fright to the end, but when he had drivenhomeward and was alone in his own apartment he felt himself cold withdread. 

"And I wait here at the command of a Queen, " he said, "and cannot beloosed from my duty. And Fate may come between again--again!"--and healmost shuddered the next instant as he heard the sound which brokefrom his lips, 'twas so like a short, harsh laugh which mocked at hisown sharp horror. "'Tis not right that a woman should so play with aman's soul, " he cried fiercely; "'tis not fair she should so lay him onthe rack!"

But next, manlike, his own anguish melted him. 

"She does not know, " he said. "If she _knew_ she would be more gentle. She is very noble. Had I spoke with her on that to-morrow, she wouldhave obeyed the commands my love would lay upon her. "

"My Lady Dunstanwolde, " he heard a day later, "has vowed to conquer hergreat horse or be killed by it. Each day she fights a battle with it inthe park, and all the people crowd to look on. Some say it will killher, and some she will kill it. She is so strong and without fear. "

"To one of her adorers she laughed and said that if the animal brokeher neck, she need battle with neither men nor horses again. The nameof her horse is Devil, and he is said to look like one. _Magnifique!_"laughed the man who spoke. 

By the third day, his Grace of Osmonde's valet began to look anxious. He had attended his master ten years and had never seen him look as hedid in these days. His impression was that his Grace did not sleep, that he had not slept for several nights. Lexton had heard him walkingin his room when he ought to have been in bed; one thing was certain, he did not eat his meals, and one thing Lexton had always affirmed wasthat he had never known a gentleman as fine and regular in his habitsas his Grace, and had always said that 'twas because he was so regularthat he was such a man as he was--so noble in his build and so clear inhis eye, and with such a grand bearing. 

At last, turns up in the street young Langton, who had run over toParis, as he had a habit of doing when he was out of humour with hisnative land, either because his creditors pressed him, or because somelady was unkind. And he stopped my lord Duke in the Rue Royale, filledto the brim with the excitement of the news he brought fresh fromLondon. 

"Has your Grace heard of my Lady Dunstanwolde's breaking of the horseDevil?" he cried. "The story has reached Paris, I know, for I heard itspoke of scarce an hour after my arrival. On Tuesday I stood in HydePark and watched the fight between them, and I think, God knows! thatsurely no woman ever mounted such a beast and ran such danger before. 'Tis the fashion to go out each morning and stand looking on and layingwagers. The stakes run high. At first the odds were all against mylady, but on Tuesday they veered and were against the horse. How theycan stand and laugh, and lay bets, Heaven knows!" He was a good-naturedyoung fellow and gave a little shudder. "I could not do it. For all herspirit and her wrists of steel, she is but a woman and a lovelycreature, and the horse is so great a demon that if he gets her fromhis back and beneath his feet--good Lord! it makes me sick to think ofit. " He shook his shoulders with a shudder again. "What think you, " hecried, "I heard Jack Oxon wager? He hath been watching her day afterday more fierce and eager than the rest. He turned round one momentwhen the beast was doing his worst and 'twas life and death betweenthem. And she could hear his words, too, mark you. 'A thousand poundsagainst fifty, ' he says with his sneering laugh; 'a thousand poundsthat she is off his back in five minutes and that when she is draggedaway, what his heels have left of her will bear no semblance to awoman!"

"Good God!" broke from the Duke. "This within her hearing! Good God!"

"In my belief 'twas a planned thing to make her lose her nerve, " saidthe young fellow. "'Tis my belief he would gloat over the killing ofher, because she has disdained him. Why is there not some man who haththe right to stop her--I--" his honest face reddened--"what am I todare to speak to such a lady in advice. I know it was an impudence, andfelt it one, your Grace, but I plucked up courage to--to--follow herhome, and says I, bowing and as red as a turkey-cock, 'My lady, for theLord's sake give up this awfulness. Think of them that love you. Surethere must be some heart you would tear in two. For God's sake havepity on it wheresoever it be, though I beg your ladyship's pardon, and'tis impudence, I know. '"

My lord Duke caught his hand and in the passionate gratitude of thegrasp he gave it forgot his own strength and that Bob was not a giantalso. 

"God bless you!" he cried. "God bless you! You are a brave fellow! I--Iam her kinsman and am grateful. God bless you, man, and call on GeraldMertoun for a friend's service when you need it. "

And he strode away, leaving Bob Langton staring after him and holdinghis crushed hand tenderly, but feeling a glow at his heart, for 'tisnot every day a careless, empty-pocketed young ensign is disabled bythe grasp of a Duke's hand, and given his friendship as the result of amere artless impulse of boyish good-nature. 

His Grace strode homeward and called Lexton to him. 

"We go to England within an hour, " he said. "We may remain there but aday. Not a moment is to be lost. 'Tis of most serious import. "

When he entered Osmonde House, on reaching the end of his journey, thefirst person he encountered was Mr. Fox, who had just come in from HydePark, where he had spent the morning. 

"I have been there each day this week, your Grace, " he said, and hislips trembled somewhat as he wiped his brow. "It hath seemed to me allthe town hath been there. I--your Grace's pardon--but I could not stayaway; it seemed almost a duty. But I would gladly have been spared it. The worst is over. " And he wiped his brow again, his thin, clericalcountenance pale. "They say the horse is beat; but who knows when sucha beast is safe, and at this moment she puts him through his paces, andthey all look on applauding. "

His Grace had rung the bell. "Bring Rupert, " he commanded. "Rupert. "

And the beast was brought without delay--as fiery a creature as thehorse Devil himself, yet no demon but a spirited brute, knowing hismaster as his master knew himself; and my lord Duke came forth andflung himself upon him, and the creature sprang forward as if they hadbeen one, and he felt in every nerve that his rider rode with heartbeating with passion which was resolute to overleap every obstacle inits way, which had reached the hour when it would see none, hear ofnone, submit to none, but sweep forward to its goal as though 'twerewind or flame. 

A short hour later all the town knew that my Lady Dunstanwolde hadsealed her brilliant fate. And 'twas not Sir John Oxon who wasconqueror, but his Grace of Osmonde, who, it seemed, had swept downupon her and taken possession of his place by her side as a King mighthave descended on some citadel and claimed it for his own. GreatHeaven! what a thing it had been to behold, and how those congratulatedthemselves who had indeed beheld it--my lord Duke appearing upon thescene as if by magic, he who had been known to be in France, and whocame almost at full gallop beneath the trees, plainly scarce seeing thestartled faces turned at the sound of his horse's hoofs, the hats whichwere doffed at sight of him, the fair faces which lighted, the lovely, hurried courtesies made, his own eyes being fixed upon a certain pointon the riding-road where groups stood about and her ladyship ofDunstanwolde sat erect and glowing upon the back of her conqueredbeast, the black horse Devil!

"Zounds, 'twas like a play!" cried Sir Christopher, gloating over itwhen 'twas past. "There rides my lady like an empress, Devil going asdainty as a dancing-master, and all the grandees doffing hats to herdown the line. And of a sudden one man hears hoofs pounding and turns, and there he comes, my lord Duke of Osmonde, and he sees but onecreature and makes straight for her--and she doth not even hear himtill he is close upon her, and then she turns--blushing, good Lord! theloveliest crimson woman ever wore. And in each other's eyes they gazeas if Heaven's gate had opened, and 'twas not earth that was beneaththeir horses' feet, and both forgot that poor plain flesh and bloodstood looking on!"

"Lud!" minced Lady Betty, applauding with her fan. "We must have itmade into a play and Mrs. Bracegirdle shall perform it. "

"My old heart thumped to see it!" said Sir Chris; "it thumped, Iswear!" and he gave his stout side a feeling blow. "All her days I haveknown her, and it came back to me how, when she was but a vixen oftwelve we dubbed her Duchess, and, ecod! the water came into my eyes!"

"Because she was a vixen, or because you called her Duchess?" said myLady Betty, with her malicious little air. 

Sir Christopher stared at her; there was a touch of moisture in his oldeyes, 'twas true!

"Nay, " he said, bluntly, "because she is such a damned fine woman, and'tis all come true!"

The words these two had exchanged before the eyes of the world onlythemselves could know--they had been but few, surely, and yet in tenminutes after their first speech all those who gazed knew that the talewas told. And as they rode homeward together beneath the arching treesand through the crowded streets, their faces wore such looks as dreweach passer-by to turn and gaze after them, and to themselves the wholegreat world had changed; and of a surety, nowhere, nowhere, two heartsbeat to such music, or two souls swayed together in such unison. 

When they rode into the court at Dunstanwolde House, the lacqueys, seeing them, drew up in state about the entrance. 

"Look you, " said, in an undertone to his fellow, one of the biggest andsauciest of them, "'tis her Grace of Osmonde who returns, and we may bea great Duke's servants if we carry ourselves with dignity. "

They bowed their lowest as the two passed between them, but neither theone nor the other beheld them, scarce knowing that they were present. My lady's sweet, tall body trembled, and her mouth's crimson trembledalso, almost as if she had been a child. She could not speak, butlooked up, softly smiling, as she led him to a panelled parlour, whichwas her own chosen and beloved room. And when they entered it, and thedoor closed, my lord Duke, having no words either, put forth his armsand took her to his heart, folding her close so that she felt hispulsing breast shake. And then he drew her to the gilded chair and madeher sit, and knelt down before her, and laid his face upon her lap. 

"Let it stay there, " he cried, low and even wildly. "Let it staythere--Heart. If you could know--if you could know!"

And then in broken words he told her of how, when she had sate in thissame chair before and given him her dead lord's message, he had somadly yearned to throw himself at her feet upon his knees, and hide hisanguished face where now it lay, while her sweet hand touched hischeek. 

"I love you, " she whispered, very low and with a soft, helpless sob inher voice. "I love you, " for she could think of no other words to say, and could say no more. And with tears in his lion's eyes he kissed herhands a thousand times as if he had been a boy. 

"When I was in France, " he said, "and heard of the danger that you ran, my heart rebelled against you. I cried that 'twas not just to so put aman to torture and bind him to the rack. And then I repented and saidyou did not know or you would be more gentle. "

"I will be gentle now, " she said, "always, your Grace, always. "

"When the sun rose each day, " he said, "I could not know it did notrise upon your beauty, lying cold and still, lost--lost to me--thistime, forever. "

Her fair hand covered her eyes, she shuddering a little. 

"Nay, nay, " she cried. "I--nay, I could not be lost to you--again. Letus--let us pray God, your Grace, let us pray God!"

And to his heavenly rapture she put forth her arms and laid them roundhis neck, her face held back that she might gaze at him with her greatbrimming eyes. Indeed 'twas a wonder to a man to behold how herstateliness had melted and she was like a yearning, clinging girl. 

He gazed at her a moment, kneeling so, and all the long years rolledaway and he scarce dared to breathe lest he should waken from hisdream. 

"Ah, Heaven!" he sighed, "there is so much to tell--years, years ofpain which your sweet soul will pity. "

Ah, how she gazed on him, what longing question there was in her eyes!

He took from his breast a velvet case which might have held aminiature, but did not. 

"Look--look, " he prayed, "at this. Tis a dead rose. "

"A rose!" says she, and then starts and looks up from it to him, adawning of some thought--or hope--in her face. "A rose!" she uttered, scarcely breathing it, as if half afraid to speak. 

"Ah!" he cried, "I pray God you remember. When it fell from your breastthat night----"

She broke in, breathless, "The night you came----"

"Too late--too late, " he answered; "and this fell at my feet, and youpassed by. No night since then I have not pressed it to my lips. No dayit has not lain upon my heart through all its darkest hours. "

She took it from him--gazed down at it with stormy, filling eyes, andpressing it to her lips, broke into tender, passionate sobbing. 

"No night, no day!" she cried. "Poor rose! dear rose!"

"Beloved!" he cried, and would have folded her to his breast, kissingher tears away which were so womanly. But she withdrew herself alittle--holding up her hand. 

"Wait, your Grace; wait!" she said, as if she would say more, almost asif she was shaken by some strange trouble and knew not how to bear itspresence. And, of a sudden, seeing this, a vague fear struck him and heturned a little pale. 

But the next moment he controlled himself; 'twas indeed as if hehimself called the receding blood back to his heart, and he took herhand and held it in both his own, smiling. 

"I have waited so long, " he pleaded, caressingly. "I pray you--inLove's name. "

And it was but like her, he thought, that she should rise at this andstand before him, her hand laid upon her breast, her great eyes openingupon him in appeal, as if she were some tender culprit standing atjudgment bar. 

"In Love's name!" she cried, in a low, panting voice. "Oh, Love should_give_ so much. A woman's treasury should be so filled with rich jewelsof fair deeds that when Love comes she may pour them at his feet. Andwhat have I--oh, what have I?"

He moved towards her with a noble gesture, and she came nearer andlaid one hand upon his breast and one upon his shoulder, her upliftedface white as a lily from some wild emotion, and imploring him--thethought coming to him made him tremble--as some lost, helpless childmight implore. 

"Is there aught, " she panted, "_aught_ that could come between yoursoul and mine?" And she was trembling, and her voice trembled and herlips, and crystal drops on her lashes which, in quivering, fell. "Think, " she whispered; "your Grace, _think_. "

And then a storm swept over him, a storm of love as great as that firststorm of frenzy and despair. And he cried out in terror at the thoughtthat Fate might plan some trick to cheat him yet, after the years--theyears of lost, lost life, spent as in gyves of iron. 

"Great God! No! No!" he cried; "I am a man and you are the life of me!I come to you not as other men, who love and speak their passion. Minehas been a burden hidden and borne so long. It woke at sight of achild, it fed on visions of a girl; before I knew its power it hadbecome my life. The portals of my prison are open and I see the sun. Think you I will let them be closed--be _closed_ again?"

And he would not be withheld and swept her to his breast, and she, lying there, clung to him with a little sobbing cry of joy andgratefulness, uttering wild, sweet, low, broken words. 

"I am so young, " she said. "Life is so strong; the world seems _full_of flowers. Sure some of them are mine. My heart beats so--it so beats. Forgive! forgive!"

"Tis from to-day our life begins, " he whispered, solemnly. "And God sodeal with me, Heart, as I shall deal with you. "

_CHAPTER XXVII_

"_'Twas the night thou hidst the package in the wall_"

"So, " said the fashionable triflers, "'twas the Duke after all, and hisGrace flies to France to draw his errand to a close, and when he fliesback again, upon the wings of love, five villages will roast oxen wholeand drink ale to the chiming of wedding-bells. "

"Lud!" said my Lady Betty, this time with her pettish air, this matternot being to her liking, for why should a Duke fall in love with widowswhen there were exquisite languishing unmarried ladies near at hand. "'Tis a wise beauty who sets bells ringing in five villages by marryinga duke, instead of taking a spendthrift rake who is but a baronet andhas no estate at all. I could have told you whom her ladyship would wedif she were asked. "

"If she were asked! good Lord!" cried Sir Chris Crowell, as red as aturkey-cock. "And this I can tell you, 'tis not the five villages shemarries, nor the Duke, but the man. And 'tis not the fine lady he takesto his heart, but our Clo, and none other, and would have taken her inher smock had she been a beggar wench. 'Tis an honest love-match, thatI swear!"

Thereupon my Lady Betty laughed. 

"Those who see Sir John Oxon's face now, " she said, "do not behold apretty thing. And my lady sees it at every turn. She can go nowhere butshe finds him at her elbow glaring. "

"He would play some evil trick on her for revenge, I vow, " said anotherlady. "She hath Mistress Anne with her nearly always in these days, asif she would keep him off by having a companion; but 'tis no use, follow and badger her he will. "

"Badger her!" blustered Sir Chris. "He durst not, the jackanapes! He isnot so fond of drawing point as he was a few years ago. "

"'Tis badgering and naught else, " said Mistress Lovely. "I have watchedhim standing by and pouring words like poison in her ear, and shedisdaining to reply or look as though she heard. "

My Lady Betty laughed again with a prettier venom still. 

"He hath gone mad, " she said. "And no wonder! My woman, who knows amercer's wife at whose husband's shop he bought his finery, told me astory of him. He was so deep in debt that none would give him creditfor an hour, until the old Earl of Dunstanwolde died, when he persuadedthem that he was on the point of marrying her ladyship. These peopleare so simple they will believe anything, and they watched him go toher house and knew he had been her worshipper before her marriage. Andso they gave him credit again. Thence his fine new wardrobe came. Andnow they have heard the news and have all run mad in rage at their ownfoolishness, and are hounding him out of his life. "

The two ladies made heartless game enough of the anecdote. Perhaps bothhad little spites of their own against Sir John, who in his heyday hadnever spoke with a woman without laying siege to her heart and vanity, though he might have but five minutes to do it in. Lady Betty, atleast, 'twas known had once had coquettish and sentimental passageswith him, if no more; and whether 'twas her vanity or her heart whichhad been wounded, some sting rankled, leaving her with a malice againsthim which never failed to show itself when she spoke or heard his name. 

A curious passage took place between them but a short time after shehad told her story of his tricking of his creditors. 'Twas at a Courtball and was a whimsical affray indeed, though chiefly rememberedafterwards because of the events which followed it--one of themoccurring upon the spot, another a day later, this second incidentbeing a mystery never after unravelled. At this ball was my LadyDunstanwolde in white and silver, and looking, some said, like a spiritin the radiance of her happiness. 

"For 'tis pure happiness that makes her shine so, " said her faithfulhenchman, old Sir Christopher. "Surely she hath never been a happywoman before, for never hath she smiled so since I knew her first, achild. She looks like a creature born again. "

Lady Betty Tantillion engaged in her encounter in an antechamber nearthe great saloon. Her ladyship had a pretty way of withdrawing from themoving throng at times to seek comparative seclusion and greater ease. There was more freedom where there would be exchange of wits andglances, not overheard and beheld by the whole world; so her ladyshiphad a neat taste in nooks and corners, where a select little court ofher own could be held by a charming fair one. Thus it fell that afterdancing in the ball-room with one admirer and another, she made herway, followed by two of the most attentive, to a pretty retiring-roomquite near. 

'Twas for the moment, it seemed, deserted, but when she entered withher courtiers, the exquisite Lord Charles Lovelace and his friend SirHarry Granville, a gentleman turned from a window where he seemed tohave been taking the air alone, and seeing them uttered under hisbreath a malediction. 

"To the devil with them!" he said, but the next moment advanced with asomewhat mocking smile, which was scarce hidden by his elaborate bowof ceremony to her ladyship. 

"My Lady Betty Tantillion!" he exclaimed, "I did not look for suchfortune. 'Tis not necessary to hope your ladyship blooms in health. 'Tis an age since we met. "

Since their rupture they had not spoken with each other, but my LadyBetty had used her eyes well when she had beheld him even at adistance, and his life she knew almost as well as if they had beenmarried and she a jealous consort. 

But she stood a moment regarding him with an impertinent questioninglittle stare, and then held up her quizzing-glass and uttered anexclamation of sad surprise. 

"Sir John Oxon!" she said. "How changed! how changed! Sure you havebeen ill, Sir John, or have met with misfortunes. "

To the vainest of men and the most galled--he who had been but a fewyears gone the most lauded man beauty in the town, who had been sought, flattered, adored--'twas a bitter little stab, though he knew well thegiver of the thrust. Yet he steeled himself to bow again, though hiseyes flashed. 

"I have indeed been ill and in misfortune, " he answered, sardonically. "Can a man be in health and fortunate when your ladyship has ceased tosmile upon him?"

My Lady Betty courtesied with a languid air. 

"Lord Charles, " she said, with indifferent condescension, "Sir Harry, you have _heard_ of this gentleman, though he was before your day. In_his_--" (as though she recalled the past glories of some antiquatedbeau) "you were still at the University. "

Then as she passed to a divan to seat herself she whispered an aside toLord Charles, holding up her fan. 

"The ruined dandy, " she said, "who is mad for my Lady Dunstanwolde. Askhim some question of his wife?"

Whereupon Lord Charles, who was willing enough to join in badgering aman who had still good looks enough to prove a rival had he the humour, turned with a patronising air of civility. 

"My Lady Oxon is not with you?" he observed. 

"There is none, your lordship, " Sir John answered, and almost groundhis teeth, seeing the courteous insolence of the joke. "I am a singleman. "

"Lud!" cried my Lady Betty, fanning with graceful indifference. "'Twassaid you were to marry a great fortune, and all were filled with envy. What become, then, of the fair Mistress Isabel Beaton?"

"She returned to Scotland, your ladyship, " replied Sir John, his eyestransfixing her. "Ere now 'tis ancient history. "

"Fie, Sir John, " said Lady Betty, laughing wickedly, "to desert sosweet a creature. So lovely--and so _rich_! Men are not wise as theyonce were. "

Sir John drew nearer to her and spoke low. "Your ladyship makes a buttof me, " he said. And 'twas so ordained by Fate, at this moment when theworst of him seethed within his breast, and was ripest for mad evil, Sir Christopher Crowell came bustling into the apartment, full ofexultant hilarity and good wine which he had been partaking of in thebanqueting-hall with friends. 

"Good Lord!" he cried, having spoke with Lady Betty; "what ails thee, Jack? Thy very face is a killjoy. "

"'Tis repentance, perhaps, " said Lady Betty. "We are reproaching himwith deserting Mistress Beaton--who had even a fortune. "

Sir Christopher glanced from Sir John to her ladyship and burst forthinto a big guffaw, his convivialities having indeed robbed him ofdiscretion. 

"He desert her!" said he. "She jilted him and took her fortune to aMarquis! 'Twas thine own fault, too, Jack. Hadst thou been even adecent rake she would have had thee. "

"By God!" cried Sir John, starting and turning livid; and then catchinga sight of the delight in my Lady Betty's face, who had set out toenrage him before her company, he checked himself and broke into acontemptuous, short laugh. 

"These be country manners, Sir Christopher, " he said. "InGloucestershire bumpers are tossed off early, and a banquet added turnsa man's head and makes him garrulous. "

"Ecod!" said Sir Christopher, grinning. "A nice fellow he is to twit aman with the bottle. Myself, I've seen him drunk for three days. "

Whereupon there took place a singular change in Sir John Oxon's look. His face had been so full of rage but a moment ago that, at Sir Chris'ssecond sally, Lady Betty had moved slightly in some alarm. Town mannerswere free, but not quite so free as those of the country, and Sir Johnwas known to be an ill-tempered man. If the two gentlemen hadquarrelled about her ladyship's own charms 'twould have been adifferent matter, but to come to an encounter over a mere drinking-boutwould be a vulgar, ignominious thing in which she had no mind to bemixed up. 

"Lord, Sir Christopher, " she exclaimed, tapping him with her fan. "Three days! For shame!"

But though Sir John had started 'twas not in rage. Three dayscarousing with this old blockhead! When had he so caroused? He couldhave laughed aloud. Never since that time he had left Wildairs, bearingwith him the lock of raven hair--his triumph and his proof. No, 'twasnot in anger he started but through a sudden shock of recollection, offierce, eager hope, that at last, in the moment of his impotenthumiliation, he had by chance--by a very miracle of chance--come againupon what he had so long searched for in helpless rage--that whichwould give power into his hand and vengeance of the bitterest. 

And he had come upon it among chatterers in a ball-room through thevinous babbling of a garrulous fool. 

"Three days!" he said, and took out his snuff-box and tapped it, laughing jeeringly. And this strange thing my Lady Betty marked, thathis white hand shook a little as if from hidden excitement. "Threedays!" he mocked. 

"No man of fashion now, " said Lord Charles, and tapped his snuff-boxalso, "is drunk for more than two. "

But Sir Christopher felt he was gaining a victory before her ladyship'svery eyes, which always so mocked and teased him for his clumsiness inany encounter of words, wherefore he pressed his point gleefully. 

"Three days!" cries he. "'Twas nearer four. "

Sir John turned on him, laughing still, seeming in very truth as if thething amused him. 

"When, when?" he said. "Never, I swear!" and held a pinch of snuff inhis fingers daintily, his eyes gleaming blue as sapphires through thenew light in them. 

"Swear away!" cried Sir Christopher; "thou wast too drunk to remember. 'Twas the night thou hidst the package in the wall. "

Then he burst forth again in laughter, for Sir John had so started thathe forgot his pinch of snuff and scattered it. 

"Canst see 'tis no slander, my lady, " he cried, pointing at Sir John, who stood like a man who wakes from long sleep and is bewildered by thethoughts which rush through his brain. "I laughed till I was like tocrack my sides. " Then to Sir John, "Thou hadst but just left CloWildairs and I rode with thee to Essex. Lord, how I laughed to watchthee groping to find a place safe enough to put it in. 'I'm drunk, 'says thou, 'and I would have it safe till I am sober. 'Twill be safehere, ' and stuffed it in the broken plaster 'neath the window-sill. Andsafe it was, for I'll warrant thou hast not thought of it since, andsafe thou'lt find it at the Cow at Wickben still. "

Sir John struck one closed hand sudden on the palm of the other. 

"It comes back to thee, " cried Sir Christopher, with a grimace aside athis audience. 

"Ay, it comes back, " answers Sir John; "it comes back. " And he brokeforth into a short, excited laugh, there being in its sound a note oftriumph almost hysteric; and hearing this they stared, for why in suchcase he should be triumphant, Heaven knew. 

"'Twas a love-token!" said Lady Betty, simpering, for of a sudden hehad become another man--no longer black-visaged, but gallant, andsmiling with his old charming, impudent, irresistible air. He bent andtook her hand and kissed her finger-tips with this same old enchantinginsolence. 

"Had your ladyship given it to me, " he said, "I had not hid it in awall, but in my heart. " And with a soft glance and a smiling bow heleft their circle and sauntered towards the ball-room. 

"'Twas the last time I spoke with him, " said my Lady Betty, when he wastalked of later. "I wonder if 'twas in his head when he kissed myhand--if indeed 'twas a matter he himself planned or had aught to dowith. Faith! though he was a villain he had a killing air when hechose. "

When her ladyship had played off all her airs and graces upon herservitors she led them again to the ball-room that she might vary hertriumphs and fascinations. A minuet was being played, and my LadyDunstanwolde was among the dancers, moving stately and slow in herwhite and silver, while the crowd looked on, telling each other of thepreparations being made for her marriage, and that my lord Duke ofOsmonde was said to worship her, and could scarce live through thehours he was held from her in France. 

Among the watchers, and listening to the group as he watched, stood SirJohn Oxon. He stood with a graceful air and watched her steadily, andthere was a gleam of pleasure in his glance. 

"He has followed and gazed at her so for the last half-hour, " saidMistress Lovely. "Were I the Duke of Osmonde I would command him tochoose some other lady to dog with his eyes. Now the minuet is ending Iwould wager he will follow her to her seat and hang about her. "

And this indeed he did when the music ceased, but 'twas done with amore easy, confident air than had been observed in him for some timepast. He did not merely loiter in her vicinity, but when the circlethinned about her he made his way through it and calmly joined her. 

"Does he pay her compliments?" said Lord Charles, who looked on at adistance. "Faith, if he does, she does not greatly condescend to him. Ishould be frozen by a beauty who, while I strove to melt her, did notdeign to turn her eyes. Ah, she has turned them now. What has he said?It must have been fire and flame to move her. What's this--what'sthis?"

He started forward, as all the company did--for her ladyship ofDunstanwolde had risen to her full height with a strange movement and, standing a moment swaying, had fallen at Sir John Oxon's feet, white ina death-like swoon. 

_CHAPTER XXVIII_

_Sir John Rides out of Town_

Tom Tantillion had not appeared at the ball, having otherwiseentertained himself for the evening, but at an hour when mostfestivities were at an end and people were returning from them, rollingthrough the streets in their coaches, the young man was sitting at acorner table in Cribb's Coffee-House surrounded by glasses and jollycompanions and clouds of tobacco-smoke. 

One of these companions had been to the ball and left it early, and hadfallen to talking of great personages he had seen there, and describingthe beauties who had shone the brightest, among them speaking of myLady Dunstanwolde and the swoon which had so amazed those who had seenit. 

"I was within ten feet of her, " says he, "and watching her as a manalways does when he is near enough. Jack Oxon stood behind her, and wasspeaking low over her shoulder, but she seeming to take little note ofhim and looking straight before her. And of a sudden she standsupright, her black eyes wide open as if some sound had startled her, and the next minute falls like a woman dropping dead, and lies amongher white and silver like one carven out of stone. One who knows herwell--old Sir Chris Crowell--says she hath never fallen in a swoonbefore since she was born. Gad! 'twas a strange sight--'twas sosudden. " He had just finished speaking, and was filling his glassagain, when a man strode into the room in such haste that all turned toglance at him. 

He was in riding-dress, and was flushed and excited, and smiling as ifto himself. 

"Drawer!" he called, "bring me coffee and brandy, and, damme! be inhaste. "

Young Tantillion nudged his nearest companion with his elbow. 

"Jack Oxon, " he said. "Where rides the fellow at this time of night?"

"Eh, Jack!" he said, aloud, "art on a journey already, after shining atthe Court ball?"

Sir John started, and seeing who spoke, answered with an ugly laugh. 

"Ay, " said he, "I ride to the country in hot haste. I go to Wickben inEssex, to bring back a thing I once left there. "

"'Twas a queer place to leave valuables, " said Tom--"a village oftumble-down thatched cottages. Was't a love-token or a purse of gold?"

Sir John gave his knee a sudden joyous slap, and laughed aloud. 

"'Twas a little thing, " he replied, "but 'twill bring back fortune--ifI find it--and help me to pay back old scores, which is a thing I likebetter. " And his grin was so ugly that Tom and his companions glancedaside at each other, believing that he was full of liquor already, andready to pick a quarrel if they continued their talk. This they werenot particularly inclined to, however, and began a game of cards, leaving him to himself to finish his drink. This he did, quicklytossing down both brandy and coffee the instant they were brought tohim, and then striding swaggering from the room and mounting his horse, which waited in the street, and riding clattering off over the stonesat a fierce pace. 

"Does he ride for a wager?" said Will Lovell, dealing the cards. 

"He rides for some ill purpose, I swear, " said Tom Tantillion. "JackOxon never went in haste towards an honest deed; but to play somedevil's trick 'tis but nature to him to go full speed. "

But what he rode for they never heard, neither they nor anyone else whotold the story, though 'twas sure that if he went to Wickben he cameback to town for a few hours at least, for there were those who saw himthe next day, but only one there was who spoke with him, and that onemy Lady Dunstanwolde herself. 

Her ladyship rode out in the morning hoping, 'twas said, that thefresh air and exercise would restore her strength and spirits. She rodewithout attendant, and towards the country, and in the high road SirJohn Oxon joined her. 

"I did not know he had been out of town, " she said, when the mysterywas discussed. "He did not say so. He returned to Dunstanwolde Housewith me, and we had talk together. He had scarce left me when Iremembered that I had forgot to say a thing to him I had wished to say. So I sent Jenfry forth quickly to call him back. He had scarce had timeto turn the street's corner, but Jenfry returned, saying he was notwithin sight. "

"Whereupon you sent a note to his lodgings, was't not so?" asked SirChristopher. 

"Yes, " answered her ladyship, "but he had not returned there. "

"Nor ever did, " said Sir Christopher, whenever the mystery was referredto afterwards; "nor ever did, and where he went to from that hour onlythe devil knows, for no man or woman that one has heard of has everclapt eyes on him since. "

This was, indeed, the mysterious truth. After he entered the PanelledParlour at Dunstanwolde House it seemed that none had seen him, for thefact was that by a strange chance even the lacquey who should have beenat his place in the entrance hall had allowed himself to be ensnaredfrom his duty by a pretty serving-wench, and had left his post for afew minutes to make love to her in the servants' hall, during whichtime 'twas plain Sir John must have left the house, opening theentrance-door for himself unattended. 

"Lord, " said the lacquey in secret to his mates, "my gizzard was in mythroat when her ladyship began to question me. 'Did you see the gentle, man depart, Martin?' says she. ''Twas you who attended him to the door, of a surety. ' 'Yes, your ladyship, ' stammers I. ''Twas I--and I markedhe seemed in haste. ' 'Did you not observe him as he walked away?' saysmy lady. 'Did you not see which way he went?' 'To the left he turned, my lady, ' says I, cold sweat breaking out on me, for had I faltered inan answer she would have known I was lying and guessed I had broke herorders by leaving my place by the door--and Lord have mercy on a manwhen she finds he has tricked her. There is a flash in her eye likelightning, and woe betide him it falls on. But truth was that from themoment the door of the Panelled Parlour closed behind him thegentleman's days were ended, for all I saw of him, for I saw him nomore. "

And there was none who saw him, for from that time he disappeared fromhis lodgings, from the town, from England, from the surface of theearth, as far as any ever heard or discovered, none knowing where hewent, or how, or wherefore. 

Had he been a man of greater worth or importance, or one who had madefriends, his so disappearing would have aroused a curiosity andexcitement not easily allayed; but a vicious wastrel who has lost holdeven on his whilom companions in evil-doing, and has no friends morefaithful, is like, indeed, on dropping out of the world's sight, todrop easily and lightly from its mind, his loss being a nine days'wonder and nothing more. 

So it was with this one, who had had his day of being the fashion andhad broken many a fine lady's brittle heart, and, living to be nolonger the mode, had seen the fragile trifles cemented together again, to be almost as good as new. When he was gone he was forgot quicklyand, indeed, but talked about because her ladyship of Dunstanwolde hadlast beheld him, and on the afternoon had been entertaining company inthe Panelled Parlour when the lacquey had brought back the undeliverednote with which Jenfry had waited three hours at the lost man'slodgings in the hope that he would return to them, which he did nomore. 

"'Tis a good riddance to all, my lady, wheresoever he be gone, " saidSir Christopher, sitting nursing his stout knee in the blue parlour aweek later (for her ladyship had had a sudden fancy to have thepanelled room made wholly new and decorated before the return of hisGrace from France). "Tis a good riddance to all. "

Then he fell to telling stories of the man, of the creditors he hadleft in the lurch, having swindled them of their very hearts' blood, and that every day there was heard of some poor tradesman he hadruined, till 'twas a shame to hear it told; and there were worsethings--worse things yet!

"By the Lord!" he said, "the ruin one man's life can bring about, theheartbreak, and the shame! 'Tis enough to make even a sinner as old asI, repent, to come upon them face to face. Eh, my lady?" looking at hersuddenly, "thou must get back the roses thou hast lost these three daysnursing Mistress Anne, or his Grace will be at odds with us every one. "

For Mistress Anne had been ailing, and her sister being anxious andwatching over her had lost some of her glorious bloom, which was indeeda new thing to see. At this moment the roses had dropped from hercheeks and she smiled strangely. 

"They will return, " she said, "when his Grace does. "

She asked questions of the stories Sir Christopher had told and showedanxiousness concerning the poor people who had been so hardly treated. 

"I have often thought, " she said, "that so rich a woman as I should setherself some task of good deeds to do. 'Twould be a good work to takein hand the undoing of the wrongs a man who is lost has left behindhim. Why should not I, Clo Wildairs, take in hand the undoing of thisman's?" And she rose up suddenly and stood before him, straight andtall, the colour coming out on her cheeks as if life flooded backthere. 

"Thou!" he cried, gazing at her in loving wonder. "Why shouldst _thou_, Clo?" None among them had ever understood her and her moods, and hesurely did not understand this one--for it seemed as if a fire leapedup within her, and she spoke almost wildly. 

"Because I would atone for all my past, " she said, "and cleanse myselfwith unceasing mercies, and what I cannot undo, do penance for--that Imay be worthy--worthy. "

She broke off and drew her hand across her eyes, and ended with astrange little sound, half laugh. 

"Perhaps all men and women have been evil, " she said, "and someare--some seem fated! And when my lord Duke comes back, I shall behappy--happy--in spite of all; and I scarce dare to think my joy maynot be taken from me. Is joy _always_ torn away after it has beengiven to a human thing--given for just so long, as will make loss, madness?"

"Eh, my lady!" he said, blundering, "thou art fearful, just as anotherwoman might be. 'Tis not like Clo Wildairs. Such thoughts will not makethee a happy woman. "

She ended with a laugh stranger than her first one, and her great blackeyes were fixed on him as he had remembered seeing her fix them whenshe was a child and full of some wild fancy or weird sadness. 

"'Tis not Clo Wildairs who thinks them, " says she; "'tis another woman. 'Twas Clo who knew John Oxon who is gone--and was as big a sinner ashe, though she did harm to none but herself. And 'tis for thosetwo--for both--I would have mercy. But I am a strong thing, and wasborn so, and my happiness will not die, despite--despite whatsoevercomes. And I _am_ happy, and know I shall be more; and 'tis for that Iam afraid--afraid. "

"Good Lord!" cried Sir Chris, swallowing a lump which rose, he knew notwhy, in his throat. "What a strange creature thou art!"

His Grace's couriers went back and forth to France, and upon hisestates the people prepared their rejoicings for the marriage-day, andnever had Camylott been so heavenly fair as on the day when the bellsrang out once more, and the villagers stood along the roadside and attheir cottage doors, courtesying and throwing up hats and calling downGod's blessings on the new-wed pair, as the coach passed by, and hisGrace, holding his lady's hand, showed her to his people, seeming togive her and her loveliness to them as they bowed and smiledtogether--she almost with joyful tears in her sweet eyes. 

In her room near the nurseries, at the window which looked out amongthe ivy, Nurse Halsell sat, watching the equipage as it made its way upthe long avenue, and might be seen now and then between the trees, andher old hands trembled in her lap, for very joy. And before the day wasdone his Grace, knocking on the door gently, brought his Duchess toher. 

"And 'twas you, " said her Grace, standing close by her chair, andholding the old hand between her own two, which were so white andvelvet warm, "and 'twas you who held him in your arms when he was but alittle new-born thing, and often sang him to sleep, and were so lovedby him. And he played here--" and she looked about the apartment with atremulous smile. 

"Yes, " said his Grace, with a low laugh of joyful love, "and now Ibring you to her, and 'tis my marriage-day. "

Nurse Halsell gazed up at the eyes which glowed above her. 

"'Tis what his Grace hath waited long for, " she said, "and he wouldhave died an unwedded man had he not reached it at last. 'Tis sure whatGod ordained. " And for a minute she looked straight and steady into theDuchess's face. "A man must come to his own, " she said, and bent andkissed the fair hand with passionate love, but her Grace lifted the oldface with her palm, and stooped and kissed it fondly--gratefully. 

Then the Duke took his wife to the Long Gallery and they stood there, he holding her close against his side, while the golden sun went down. 

"Here I stood and heard that you were born, " he said, and kissed herred, tender mouth. "Here I stood in agony and fought my battle with mysoul the first sad day you came to Camylott. " And he kissed her slowand tenderly again, in memory of the grief of that past time. "And hereI stand and feel your dear heart beat against my side, and look intoyour eyes--and look into your eyes--and they are the eyes of her who ismine own--and Death himself cannot take her from me. "

_CHAPTER XXIX_

_At the Cow at Wichben_

The happiness he had dreamed of was given to him; nay, he knew joy andtenderness even more high and sweet than his fancy had painted. AsCamylott had been in his childhood so he saw it again--the mostbeauteous home in England and the happiest, its mistress the fairestwoman and the most nobly loving. As his own father and mother had foundlife a joyful thing and their world full of warm hearts and faithfulfriends, so he and she he loved, found it together. The great house wasfilled once more with guests and pleasures as in the olden time, thestately apartments were thrown open for entertainment, gay cavalcadescame and went from town, the forests were hunted, the moors shot overby sportsmen, and the lady who was hostess and chatelaine won renown aswell as hearts, since each party of guests she entertained went back tothe homes they came from, proclaiming to all her wit and graciouscharm. 

She rode to hunt and leapt hedges as she had done when she had been CloWildairs; she walked the moors with the sportsmen, her gun over hershoulder, she sparkling and showing her white teeth like a laughinggipsy; and when she so walked, the black rings of her hair blown looseabout her brow, her cheeks kissed fresh crimson by the wet wind, andturned her eyes upon my lord Duke near her and their looks met, the manwho beheld saw lovers who set his own heart beating. 

"But is it true, " asked once the great French lady who had related thehistory of the breaking of the horse, Devil, "is it true that a poorman killed himself in despair on her last marriage, and that she livesa secret life of penance to atone--and wears a hair shirt, and peas inher beautiful satin shoes, and does deeds of mercy in the dark placesof the big black English city?"

"A man, mad with jealous rage of her, disappeared from sight, " said anEnglish lady present. "And he might well have drowned himself fromdisappointment that she would not wed him and pay his debts; but 'twasmore like he fled England to escape his creditors. And 'tis true shedoes many noble deeds in secret; but if they be done in penance for SirJohn Oxon, she is a lady with a conscience that is tender indeed. "

That her conscience was a strangely tender thing was a thought whichmoved one man's heart strongly many a time. Scarce a day passed inwhich her husband did not mark some evidence of this--hear some wordspoken, see some deed done, almost, it seemed, as if in atonement forimagined faults hid in her heart. He did not remark this because he wasunused to womanly mercifulness; his own mother's life had been full ofgentle kindness to all about her, of acts of charity and goodness, butin the good deeds of this woman, whom he so loved, he observed aneagerness which was almost a passion. She had changed no whit in thebrilliance of her spirit; in the world she reigned a queen as she hadever done; wheresoever she moved, life and gayety seemed to follow, whether it was at the Court, in the town, or the country; but in bothtown and country he found she did strange charities, and seemed tosearch for creatures she might aid in such places as other women hadnot courage to dive into. 

This he discovered through encountering her one day as she re-enteredOsmonde House, returning from some such errand, clad in dark, plaingarments, her black hood drawn over her face, being thereby sodisguised that but for her height and bearing he should not haverecognised her--indeed, he thought, she had not seen and would havepassed him in silence. 

He put forth his hand and stayed her, smiling. 

"Your Grace!" he said, "or some vision!"

She threw the black hood back and her fair face and large black eyesshone out from beneath its shadows. She drew his hand up and kissed it, and held it against her cheek in a dear way which was among thesweetest of her wifely caresses. 

"It is like Heaven, Gerald, " she said, "to see your face, afterbeholding such miseries. "

And when he took her in his arm and led her to the room in which theyloved best to sit in converse together, she told him of a poor creatureshe had been to visit, and when she named the place where she had foundher, 'twas a haunt so dark and wicked that he started in alarm andwonder at her. 

"Nay, dear one, " he said, "such dens are not for you to visit. You mustnot go to them again. "

She was sitting on a low seat before him, and she leaned forward, theblack hood falling back, framing her face and making it look white. 

"None else dare go, " she said; "none else dare go, Gerald. Such placesare so hideous and so noisome, and yet there are those who are born anddie there, bound hand and foot when they are born, that they may bebound hand and foot to die!" She rose as if she did not know she moved, and stood up before him, her hand upon her breast. 

"'Tis such as I should go, " she said, "I who am happy andbeloved--after all--after all! 'Tis such as I who should go, and carrylove and pity--love and pity!" And she seemed Love's self and Pity'sself, and stood transfigured. 

"You are a saint, " he cried; "and yet I am afraid. Ah! how could anyharm you?"

"I am so great and strong, " she said, in a still voice, "none couldharm me if they would. I am not as other women. And I do not know fear. See!" and she held out her arm. "I am a Wildairs--built of iron andsteel. If in a struggle I held aught in my hand and struck at a man--"her arm fell at her side suddenly as if some horrid thought had sweptacross her soul, like a blighting blast. She turned white and sank uponher low seat, covering her face with her hands. Then she looked up withawed eyes. "If one who was so strong, " she said, "should strike at aman in anger, he might strike him dead--unknowing--dead!"

"'Tis not a thing to think of, " said his Grace, and shuddered a little. 

"But he would think of it, " she said, "all his life through and bear iton his soul. " And she shuddered, too, and in her eyes was the old lookwhich sometimes haunted them. Surely, he thought, Nature had neverbefore made a woman's eyes so to answer to her lover's and her lord's. They were so warm and full of all a man's soul most craved for. He hadseen them flash fire like Juno's, he had seen tears well up into themas if she had been a tender girl, he had seen them laugh like achild's, he had seen them brood over him as a young dove's might broodover her mate, but this look was unlike any other, and was as if shethought on some dark thing in another world--so far away that hermind's vision could scarce reach it, and yet could not refrain fromturning towards its shadow. 

But this was but a cloud which his love-words and nearness coulddispel. This she herself told him on a time when he spoke to her of it. 

"When you see it, " she said, "come and tell me that you love me, andthat there is naught can come between our souls. As you said the dayyou showed me the dear rose, 'Naught can come between'--and love ismore than all. "

"But that you know, " he answered. 

Life is so full of joys for those who love and, being mated, are givenby their good fortunes the power to live as their hearts lead them. These two were given all things, it seemed to the world which lookedon. From one of their estates to the other they went with the changingseasons, and with them carried happiness and peace. Her Grace, of whomthe villagers had heard such tales as made them feel that they shouldtremble before the proud glance of her dark eyes, found that their lastDuchess, whose eyes had been like violets, could smile no more sweetly. This one was somehow the more majestic lady of the two, being tallerand having a higher bearing by Nature, but none among them had everbeheld one who was more a woman and seemed so well to understand awoman's heart and ways. Where had she learned it, they wondered amongthemselves, as others had wondered the year when, as my LadyDunstanwolde, she had been guest at Camylott, and in the gipsy'sencampment had carried, so soft and tenderly, the little gipsy child inher arms. Where had she learned it?

"Gerald, " she said once to her husband, and pressed her hand againsther heart, "'twas always here--_here_, lying hid, when none knewit--when I did not know it myself. When I seemed but a hard, wildcreature, having only men for friends--I was a woman then, and usedsometimes to sit and stare at the red coals of the fire, or the red sungoing down on the moors, and feel longings and pities and sadness Iknew not the meaning of. And often, suddenly, I was made angry by themand would spring up and walk away that I might be troubled no more. But'twas Nature crying out in me that I was a woman and could be naughtelse. "

Her love and tenderness for her sister, Mistress Anne, increased, itseemed, hour by hour. 

"At Camylott, at Marlowell, at Roxholm, at Paulyn, and at Mertoun, " shehad said when she was married, "we must have an apartment which isAnne's. She is my saint and I must keep a niche for her in every houseand set her in it to be worshipped. "

And so it was, to whichsoever of their homes they went, Mistress Annewent with them and found always her own nest warm to receive her. 

"It makes me feel audacious, sister, " she used to say at first, "to gofrom one grand house to the other and be led to Mistress Anne'sapartments, in each, and they always prepared and waiting as if 'twereI who were a Duchess. "

"You are Anne! You are Anne!" said her Grace, and kissed her fondly. 

Sometimes she was like a gay and laughing girl, and set all the placealight with her witcheries; she invented entertainments for theirguests, games and revels for the villagers, and was the spirit of all. In one of their retrospective hours, Osmonde had told her of thethoughts he had dreamed on, as they had ridden homeward from theencampment of the gipsies--of his fancies of the comrade she would makefor a man who lived a roving life. She had both laughed and wept overthe story, clinging to his breast as she had told her own, and of herfear of his mere glance at her in those dark days, and that she had notdared to sit alone but kept near her lord's side lest she shouldponder and remember what 'twas honest she should forget. 

But afterwards she planned, for their fanciful pleasure, rambling longjaunts when they rode or walked unattended, and romanced like children, eating their simple food under broad greenwood trees or on the widemoors with a whole world of heather, as it seemed, rolled out beforethem. 

On such a journey, setting out from London one bright morning, theyrode through Essex and stopped by chance at a little village inn. 'Twasthe village of Wickben, and on the signboard which hung swinging on apost before the small thatched house of entertainment was painted abrown cow. 

None knew 'twas a Duke and his Duchess who dismounted and entered theplace. They had made sure that by their attire none could suspect themof being more than ordinary travellers, modest enough to patronise ahumble place. 

"But Lord, what a fine pair!" said the old fellow who was the landlord. "Adam and Eve may have been such when God first made man and woman, andhad stuff in plenty to build them. "

He was an aged man and talkative, and being eager for a chance to waghis tongue and hear travellers' adventures, attended them closely. Hegave them their simple repast himself in small room, and as he movedto and fro fell to gossiping, emboldened by their friendly gayety ofspeech and by her Grace's smiling eyes. 

"Your ladyship, " he began at first, in somewhat awkward, involuntaryhomage. 

"Nay, gaffer, I am no ladyship, " she answered, with Clo Wildairs'sunceremonious air. "I am but a gipsy woman in good luck for a day, andmy man is a gipsy, too, though his skin is fairer than mine. We aregoing to join our camp near Camylott village. These horses are not oursbut borrowed--honestly. Is't not so, John Merton?" And she so laughedat his Grace with her big, saucy eyes, that he wished he had beenindeed a gipsy man and could have kissed her openly. 

"Art the Gipsies' queen?" asked the old man, bewitched by her. 

"Not she, " answered his Grace, "but a plain gipsy wench who makesbaskets and tells fortunes--for all her good looks. Thou'rt flatteringher, old fellow. All the men flatter her. "

"'Tis well there are some to flatter me, " said her Grace, showing herwhite teeth. "Thou dost not. But 'tis always so when a poor woman wedsa man and tramps by the side of him instead of keeping him at herfeet. "

And then they led their old host on to talk, and told him stories ofwhat gipsies did, and of their living in tents and sleeping in theopen, and of the ill-luck which sometimes befel them when the lord ofthe manor they camped on was a hard man and evil tempered. 

"'Tis a Duke who rules over Camylott, is't not?" the old fellow asked. 

"Ay, " was her Grace's answer, nodding her head. "He is well enough, buthis lady--Lord! but they tell that she was a vixen before her marriagea few years gone!"

"I have seen her, " said his Grace. "She is not ill to look at, and hasdone us no harm yet. "

"Ay, but she may, " says her Grace, nodding wisely again. "Who knowswhat such a woman may turn out. I have seen _him_!" She stopped, herelbows on the little round wooden table, her chin on her hands, andgave her saucy stare again. "I'll pay thee a compliment, " she said. "Heis a big fellow, and not unlike thee--though he be Duke and thou naughtbut a vagabond gipsy. "

Their host had hearkened to them eagerly, and now he put in a question. "Was not she the beauty that was married to an old Earl who left herwidow?" he said. "Was not she Countess Dunstanwolde?"

"Ay, " answered her Grace, quietly. 

"Ecod!" cried the old fellow, "that minds me of a story, and 'twas athing happened in this very house and room. Look there!"

He pointed with something like excitement to the window. 'Twas butseldom he had chance to tell his story, and 'twas a thing he dearlyloved to do, life being but a dull thing at the Cow at Wickben, and fewtravellers passing that way. A pair so friendly and gay and ready tohearken to his chatter as these two he had not seen for years. 

"Look there!" he said. "At that big hole in the wall. "

They turned together and looked at it in some wonder that her ladyshipof Dunstanwolde should have any connection with it. 'Twas indeed a bighole, and looked as if the plaster of the wall under the sill had beenroughly broken and hacked. 

"Ay, " said the host, "'tis a queer thing and came here in a strangeway, being made by a gentleman's sword, and he either wild with liquoror with rage. Never shall I forget hearing his horse's hoofs cometearing over the road, as if some man was riding for his life. I wasabed, and started out of my sleep at the sound of it. 'Who's chased bythe devil at this time o' night through Wickben village?' says I, andscarce were the words out of my mouth before the horse clatters up tothe house and stops. I could hear him panting and heaving as his ridergets off and strides up to bang on the door. 'What dost thou want?'says I, putting my head out of the window. 'Come down and let me in, 'answers he; 'I have no time to spare. You have a thing in your house Iwould find. ' 'Twas a gentleman's voice, and I saw 'twas a gentleman'sdress he wore, for 'twas fine cloth, and his sword had a silveredscabbard, and his hat rich plumes. 'Come down, ' says he, and bangs thedoor again, so down I went. "

"Who was he?" asked her Grace slowly, for he had stopped for breath. She sat quite still as before, her round chin held in her hands, hereyes fixed on him, but there was no longer any laughter in theirblackness. "Did he tell his name?"

"Not then, " was the answer; "nor did he know I heard when he spoke it, breaking forth in anger. But that is to come later"--with the air ofone who would have his tale heard to the most dramatic advantage. "Intothis room he strides and to the window straight and looks below thesill. 'Four years ago, ' says he, 'there was a hole here in the wall. Was't so or was't not?' and he looks at me sharp and fierce as if hewould take me by the throat if I said there had been none. 'Ay, therewas a hole there long enough, ' I answers him, 'but 'twas mended withnew plaster at last. Your lordship can see the patch, for 'twas butroughly done. ' Then he goes close to it and stares. 'Ay, ' says he, 'there has been a hole mended. Old Chris did not lie. ' And on that heturns to me. 'Get out of the room, ' he says, 'I have a search to makehere. Your wall will want another patch when I am done, ' he says. 'But'twill be made good. Go thy ways. ' And he draws out his hanger, andthere was sweat on his brow and he breathed fast, as if he was wildwith his anxiousness to find what he sought. "

"And didst leave him?" asked her Grace, as quiet as before. "For howlong?"

The old man grinned. 

"Not for long, " said he, "nor did I go far. I stood outside, where Icould see through the crack o' the door. "

The Duchess nodded with an unmoved face. 

"He was like a man in a frenzy, " the host went on. "He dug at theplaster till I thought his sword would break; he dug as if he were paidfor it by the minute. He made a hole bigger than had been there before, and when 'twas made he thrusts his hand in and fumbles about, cursingunder his breath. And of a sudden he gives a start and stops and pantsfor breath, and then draws his hand back, and it was bloody, beingscratched by the stone and plaster, but he held somewhat in it, alittle dusty package, and he clutches it to his breast and laughsoutright. Good Lord, 'twas like a devil's laugh, 'twas so wild andjoyful. 'Ha, ha!' cries he, shaking the thing in the air and stampinghis foot, 'Jack Oxon comes to his own again, to his own!'"

"Then, " says her Grace, more slowly still, "that was his name? I haveheard it before. "

"I heard it again, " said the old story-teller, eager to reach hisclimax. "And 'tis that ends the story so finely. 'Twas by chance talkof travellers I heard it nigh six months later. The very day after hestood here and searched for his package he disappeared from sight andhas not been heard of since. And the last who set eyes on him was myLady Dunstanwolde, who is now a Duchess at Camylott, where your campis. 'Twas her name brought the story back to me. "

Her Grace rose, catching her breath with a laugh. She turned her facetowards the window, as if, of a sudden, attracted by somewhat to beseen outside. 

"'Tis a good story, " she said, but for a moment the crimson roses onher cheeks had shuddered to whiteness. Why, no man could tell. Her hostdid not see her countenance--perhaps my lord Duke did not. 

"'Tis a good story!" she laughed again. 

"And well told, " added my lord Duke. 

Her Grace turned to them both once more. Through some wondrous exerciseof her will she looked herself again. 

"As we are in luck to-day, " she said, "and it has passed the time, letus count it in the reckoning. "

A new, almost wild, fantastic gayety seized her. She flung herself intoher playing of the part of a gipsy woman with a spirit which was amarvel to behold. She searched his Grace's pockets and her own forpence, and counted up the reckoning on the table, saying that theycould but afford this or that much, that they must save this coin for ameal, that for a bed, this to pay toll on the road. She used suchphrases of the gipsy jargon as she had picked up, and made jokes andbantering speeches which set their host cackling with laughter. Osmondehad seen her play a fantastic part before on their whimsical holidays, but never one which suited her so well, and in which she seemed so fullof fire and daring wit. She was no Duchess, a man might have sworn, buta tall, splendid, black-eyed laughing gipsy woman, who, to the man whowas her partner, would be a fortune every day, and a fortune not ofluck alone, but of gay spirit and bravery and light-hearted love. 

That night the moon shone white and clear, and in the mid hours my lordDuke waked from his sleep suddenly, and saw the brightness streamingfull through the oriel window, and in the fair flood of it his love'swhite figure kneeling. 

"Gerald, " she cried, clinging to him when he went to her. "'Twas Iawaked you. I called, though I did not speak. "

"I heard, as I should hear if I lay dead, " he answered low. 

Her hair was all unbound for the night--her black, wondrous hair whichhe so loved--and from its billowy cloud her face looked at him wild andwhite, her mouth quivering. 

"Gerald, " she said, "look out with me. "

Together they looked forth from the wide window into the beauty of thenight, up into the great vault of Heaven, where the large silver moonsailed in the blue, the stars shining faintly before her softbrilliance. 

"We are Pagans, " she said, "poor Pagans who oftenest seem to pray to acruel thing we do not know but only crouch before in terror, lest itcrush us. But when we look up into such a Heaven as this, its majestyand stillness seem a presence, and we dare to utter what our hearts cryout, and know we shall be heard. " She caught his hand and held it toher heart, which he felt leap beneath it. "There is no power would harma woman's child, " she cried--"a little unborn thing which has notbreathed--because it would wreak vengeance on herself! There is none, Gerald, is there?" And she clung to him, her uplifted face filled withsuch lovely, passionate, woman's fear and pleading as made him sweepher to his breast and hold her silently--because he could not speak. 

"For I have learned to be afraid, " she murmured brokenly, against hisbreast. "And I was kneeling here to pray--to pray with all mysoul--that if there were so cruel a thing 'twould _kill_ menow--blight me--take me from you--that I might die in torture--but notbring suffering on my love, and on an innocent thing. "

And her heart beat like some terrified caged eaglet against his own, and her eyes were wild with woe. But the wondrous stillness of the deepnight enfolded them, as if Nature held them in her great arms whichcomfort so. And her stars gazed calmly down, even as though theircalmness were answering speech. 

_CHAPTER XXX_

_On Tyburn Hill_

There was none knew her as her husband did--none in the world--thoughso many were her friends and worshippers. As he loved her he knew her, the passion of his noble heart giving him clearer and more watchfuleyes than any other. Truth was, indeed, that she herself did not knowhow much he saw and pondered on and how tender his watch upon her was. 

The dark shadow in her eyes he had first noted, the look which wouldpass over her face sometimes at a moment when 'twas brightest, when itglowed with tenderest love for himself or with deepest yearning overthe children who were given to them as time passed, for there were bornto fill their home four sons who were like young gods for strength andbeauty, and two daughters as fair things as Nature ever made to promiseperfect womanhood. 

And how she loved and tended them, and how they joyed in their younglives and worshipped and revered her!

"When I was a child, Gerald, " she said to their father, "I wasunhappy--and 'tis a hideous thing that a child should be so. I lovednone and none loved me, and though all feared my rage and gave me mywill, I was restless and savage and a rebel, though I knew not why. There were hours--I did not know their meaning, and hated them--when Iwas seized with fits of horrid loneliness and would hide myself in thewoods, and roll in the dead leaves, and curse myself and all thingsbecause I was wretched. I used to think that I was angered at my dogs, or my horse, or some servant, or my father, and would pour forth oathsat them--but 'twas not they. Our children must be happy--they must behappy, Gerald. I will have them happy!"

What a mother they had in her!--a creature who could be wild with playand laughter with them, who was so beauteous that even in mere babyhoodthey would sit upon her knee and stare at her for sheer infant pleasurein her rich bloom and great, sweet eyes; who could lift and toss androck them in her strong, soft arms as if they were but flowers and shea summer wind; whose voice was music, and whose black hair was a greatsoft mantle 'twas their childish delight to coax her to loosen that itmight flow about her, billowing, she standing laughing beneath andtossing it over them to hide their smallness under it as beneath aveil. She was their heroine and their young pride, and among themselvesthey made joyful little boasts that there was no other such lady inall England. To behold her mount her tall horse and gallop and leaphedges and gates, to hear her tell stories of the moorlands and woods, and the game hiding in nests and warrens, of the ways of dogs and hawksand horses, and soldiers and Kings and Queens, and of how their fatherhad fought in battles, and of how big the world was and how full ofwonders and of joys! What other children had such pleasures in theirlives?

But a few months after their Graces' visit to the Cow at Wickben, youngJohn, who was heir and Marquess of Roxholm, had been born; followingeach other his two brothers, and later the child Daphne and her sisterAnne; last, the little Lord Cuthbert, who was told as he grew olderthat he was to be the hero of his house in memory of Cuthbert deMertoun, who had lived centuries ago; and in the five villages 'twassworn that each son her Grace bore her husband was a finer creaturethan the last, and that her girl children outbloomed their brothersall. 

Among these young human flowers Mistress Anne reigned gentle queen andsaint, but softly faded day by day, having been a fragile creature allher life, but growing more so as time passed, despite the peace shelived in and the happiness surrounding her. 

In her eyes, too, his Grace had seen a look which held its mystery. They were such soft eyes and so kind and timid he had always lovedthem. In days gone by he had often observed them as they followed hersister, and had been touched by the faithful tenderness of their look;but after her marriage they seemed to follow her more tenderly still, and sometimes with a vague, piteous wonder, as if the fond creatureasked herself in secret a question she knew not how to answer. More andmore devout she had grown, and, above all things, craved to aid herGrace in the doing of her good deeds. To such work she gave herselfwith the devotion of one who would strive to work out a penance. 

Her own attendant was one of those whom her sister had aided, and was ayoung creature with a piteous little story indeed--a pretty, rosy, country child of but seventeen when, after her Grace's marriage, shecame to Camylott to serve Mistress Anne. 

On her first coming my lord Duke had marked her and the sadness of herinnocent, childish face and blue eyes, and had spoken of her to Anne, asking if she had met with some misfortune. 

"A pretty, curly-headed creature such as she should be a village beautyand dimpling with smiles, " he said, "but the little thing lookssometimes as if she had wept a year. Who has done her a wrong?"

Mistress Anne gave a little start and bent lower over her embroideryframe, but her Grace, who was in the apartment, answered for her. 

"'Twas Sir John Oxon, " she answered, "who has wronged so many. "

"What!" Osmonde cried, "wrought he the poor thing's ruin?"

"No, " the Duchess replied; "but would have done it, and she, poorchild, all innocent, believing herself an honest wife. He had soplanned it, but Fate saved her!"

"A mock marriage, " says the Duke, "and she saved from it! How?"

"Because the day she went to him to be married, as he had told her, hewas not at his lodgings, and did not return. "

"'Twas the very day he disappeared--the day you saw him?" Osmondeexclaimed. 

"Yes, " was the answer given, as her Grace crossed the room. "And 'twasbecause I had seen him that the poor thing came to me with herstory--and I cared for her. "

She, too, had been sitting at her embroidery frame, and had crossed theroom for silks, which lay upon the table near to Mistress Anne. As shelaid her hand upon them she looked down and uttered a low exclamation, springing to her sister's side. 

"Anne, love!" she cried. "Nay, Anne!"

Mistress Anne's small, worn face had dropped so low over her frame thatit at last lay upon it, showing white against the silken roses so gailybroidered there. She was in a dead swoon. 

Later Osmonde heard further details of this story--of how the poorchild, having no refuge in the great city, had dared at last to go toDunstanwolde House in the wild hope that her ladyship, who had lastseen Sir John, might tell her if he had let drop any word concerninghis journey--if he had made one. She had at first hung long about theservants' entrance, watching the workmen who were that day walling inthe wing of black cellars my lady had wished to close before she leftthe place, and at length, in desperation, had appealed to a youngstone-mason, with a good-humoured countenance, and he had intercededfor her with a lacquey passing by. 

"But had I not spoke Sir John's name, " the girl said when my lord Dukespoke kindly to her of her story and her Grace's goodness; "had I notspoke his name, the man would not have carried my message. But he saidshe would see me if I had news of Sir John Oxon. He blundered, yourGrace, thinking I came from Sir John himself, and told her Grace 'twasso. And she bade him bring me to her. "

Her Grace she worshipped, and would break here into sobs each time shetold the story, describing her fright when she had been led to theapartment where sate the great lady, who had spoke to her in a voicelike music and with such strange, deep pity of her grief, and in apassion of tenderness had told the truth to her, taking her, after herswoon, in her own strong, lovely arms, as if she had been no richCountess but a poor woman, such as she who wept, and one whose heart, too, might have been broke by a cruel, deadly blow. 

This poor simple child (who was in time cured of her wound and marriedan honest fellow who loved her) was not the only one of Sir John Oxon'svictims whom her Grace protected. There were, indeed, many of them, and'twas as though she had made it her curious duty to search them out. When she and her lord lived sumptuously at Osmonde House in town, shining at Court, entertaining Royalty itself at their home, envied andcourted by all as the happiest married lovers and the favourites ofFortune, my lord Duke knew that many a day she cast her rich robes and, clad in the dark garments and black hood, went forth to visit strange, squalid places. Since the hour of his first meeting her on her returnfrom such an errand, when they had spoken together, he had never againforbade her to follow the path 'twas plain she had chosen. 

"Were I going forth to battle, " he had said, "you would not seek tohold me back; and in your battle, for it seems one to me, though I knownot what 'tis fought for, I will not restrain you. "

"Ay, 'tis a battle, " she had said, and seized his hands and kissed themas if in passionate gratitude. "And 'tis a debt--a debt I swore topay--if that we call God would let me. Perhaps He will not, but were Heyou--who know my soul--He would. "

Yet but a few hours later, when he joined her in the Mall, where shehad descended from her coach to walk with the world of fashion andmoved among the wits and beaux and leaders of the mode, drawing allround her by the marvel of her spirit and the brilliancy of her gayetyand bearing, he hearing her rich laughter and meeting the bright lookof her lovely, flashing eyes, wondered if she was the woman whose voicestill lingered in his ears and the memory of whose words would notleave his fervent heart. 

Their love was so perfect a thing that they had never denied each otheraught. Why should they; indeed, how could they? Each so understood andtrusted the other that they scarce had need for words in the decidingof such questions as other pairs must reason gravely over. There was noquestion, only one thought between them, and in his life a thing whichgrew each hour as he had long since known it would. 'Twas this womanwhom he loved--this _one_--her looks, her ways, her laughter and hertears, her very faults, if she should have them, her past, her present, and her future which seemed all himself. 

That--Duchess of Osmonde though she might be--she was known in darkplaces and moved among the foul evil there, like the sun which stroveat rare hours to cleanse and dispel it; that she had in kennels andnoisome dens strange friends, was a thing at first vaguely rumouredbecause the world had ever loved its stories of her, and been ready tobelieve any it heard and invent new ones when it had tired of the old. But there came a time when through a strange occurrence the rumour wasproved, most singularly, to be a truth. 

Two gilt coaches, full of chattering fine ladies and gentlemen, werebeing driven on a certain day through a part of the town not ordinarilyfrequented by fashion, but the occupants of the coaches had beenentertaining themselves with a great and curious sight it had beentheir delicate fancy to desire to behold as an exciting novelty. Thishad been no less an exhibition than the hanging of two malefactors onTyburn Hill--the one a handsome young highwayman, the other a poorwoman executed for larceny. 

The highwayman had been a favourite and had died gaily, and that heshould have been cut off in his prime had put the crowd (among whichwere several of his yet uncaught companions) in an ill-humour; the poorwoman had wept and made a poor end, which had added to the anger of thebeholders. 

'Twas an evil, squalid, malodorous mob, not of the better class ofthieves and tatterdemalions, but of the worst, being made up ofcutthroats out of luck, pickpockets, and poor wretches who were thescourings of the town and the refuse of the kennel. 'Twas just thecrowd to be roused to some insensate frenzy, being hungry, bitter, andvicious; and when, making ready to slouch back to its dens, itsattention was attracted by the gay coaches, with their liveries andhigh-fed horses, and their burden of silks and velvets, and plumesnodding over laughing, carefree, selfish faces, it fell into a suddenfit of animal rage. 

'Twas a woman who began it. (She had been a neighbour of the one whohad just met punishment, and in her own hovel at that moment lay hidstolen goods. ) She was a wild thing, with a battered face and unkempthair; her rags hung about her waving, and she had a bloodshot, fierceeye. 

"Look!" she screamed out suddenly, high and shrill; "look at them intheir goold coaches riding home from Tyburn, where they've seen theirbetters swing!"

The ladies in the chariots, pretty, heartless fools, started affrightedin their seats, and strove to draw back; their male companions, whowere as pretty, effeminate fools themselves and of as little spirit, started also, and began to look pale about the gills. 

"Look at them!" shrieked the virago, "shivering like rabbits. A prettyend they would make if they were called to dance at a rope's end. Lookye at them, with their white faces and their swords and periwigs!"

And she stood still, waving her arms, and poured forth a torrent ofcurses. 

'Twas enough. The woman beside her looked and began to shake her fist, seized by the same frenzy; her neighbour caught up her cry, herneighbour hers; a sodden-faced thief broke into a howling laugh, another followed him, the madness spread from side to side, and in amoment the big foul crowd surged about the coaches, shriekingblasphemies and obscenities, shaking fists, howling cries of "Shame!"and threats of vengeance. 

"Turn over the coaches! Drag them out! Tear their finery from them!Stuff their mincing mouths with mud!" rose all about them. 

The servants were dragged from their seats and hauled from side toside, their liveries were in ribbands, their terrified faces, ghastlywith terror and streaming with blood, might be seen one moment in oneplace, the next in another, sometimes they seemed down on the ground. The crowd roared with rage and laughter at their cries. One ladyswooned with terror, one or two crouched on the floor of the coach; thedandies gesticulated and called for help. 

"They will kill us! they will kill us!" screamed the finest beau amongthem. "The watch! the watch! The constables!"

"'Tis worse than the Mohocks, " cried another, but his hand so shook hecould not have drawn his sword if he had dared. 

The next instant the glass of the first coach was smashed and its doorbeaten open. A burly fellow seized upon a shrieking beauty and draggedher forth laughing, dealing her gallant a mighty clout on the face ashe caught her. Blood spouted from the poor gentleman's delicateaquiline nose, and the mob danced and yelled. 

"Drag 'em all out!" was roared by the sodden-faced thief. "The women tothe women and the men to the men, and then change about. " The creatureswere like wild beasts, and their prey would have been torn to pieces, but at that moment, from a fellow at the edge of the crowd broke astartled oath. 

Someone had made way to him and laid a strong hand on his shoulder, andthere was that in his cry which made those nearest turn. 

A tall figure in black draperies stood towering above him, and in truthabove all the rest of the crowd. 'Twas a woman, and she called out tothe mad creatures about her in command. 

"Fools!" she cried; "have a care. Do you want to swing at a rope's endyourselves?" 'Twas a fierce voice, the voice of a brave creature whofeared none of them; though 'twas a rich voice and a woman's, and sorang with authority that it actually checked the tempest for a momentand made the leaders turn to look. 

She made her way nearer and threw back her hood from her face. 

"I am Clorinda Mertoun, who is Duchess of Osmonde, " she cried to them. "There are many of you know me. Call back your senses, and hearken towhat I say. "

The ladies afterwards in describing the scene used to quake as theytried to paint this moment. 

"There was a cry that was like a low howl, " they said, "as if beastswere baffled and robbed of their prey. Some of them knew her and somedid not, but they all stood and stared. Good Lord! 'twas her greatblack eyes that held them; but I shall be affrighted when I think ofher, till my dying day. "

'Twas her big black eyes and the steady flame in them that held thepoor frenzied fools, perchance as wolves are said to be held by the eyeof man sometimes; but 'twas another thing, and on that she counted. She looked round from one face to the other. 

"You know me, " she said to one; "and you, and you, and you, " nodding ateach. "I can pick out a dozen of you who know me, and should find moreif I marked you all. How many here are my friends and servants?"

There was a strange hoarse chorus of sounds; they were the voices ofwomen who were poor bedraggled drabs, men who were thieves andcutthroats, a few shrill voices of lads who were pickpockets and ripefor the gallows already. 

"Ay, we know thee! Ay, your Grace! Ay!" they cried, some in half-sullengrunts, some as if half-affrighted, but all in the tones of creatureswho suddenly began to submit to a thing they wondered at. 

Then the woman who had begun the turmoil suddenly fell down on herknees and began to kiss her Grace's garments with hysteric, chokingsobs. 

"She said thou wert the only creature had ever spoke her fair, " shecried. "She said thou hadst saved her from going distraught when shelay in the gaol. Just before the cart was driven away she cried outsobbing, 'Oh, Lord! Oh, your Grace!' and they thought her praying, but_I_ knew she prayed to thee. "

The Duchess put her hand on the woman's greasy, foul shoulder andanswered in a strange voice, nodding her head, her black brows knit, her red mouth drawn in. 

"'Tis over now!" she said. "'Tis over and she quiet, and perchance erethis she has seen a fair thing. Poor soul! poor soul!"

By this time the attacked party had gained strength to dare to move. The pretty creature who had been first dragged forth from the coachuttered a shriek and fell on her knees, clutching at her rescuer'srobe. 

"Oh, your Grace! your Grace!" she wept; "have mercy! have mercy!"

"Mercy!" said her Grace, looking down at the tower of powdered hairdecked with gewgaws. "Mercy! Sure we all need it. Your ladyshipcame--for sport--to see a woman hang? I saw her in the gaol last nightwaiting her doom, which would come with the day's dawning. 'Twas notsport. Had you been there with us, you would not have come here to-day. Get up, my lady, and return to your coach. Make way, there!" raisingher voice. "Let that poor fellow, " pointing to the ashen-facedcoachman, "mount to his place. Be less disturbed, Sir Charles, " to thetrembling fop, "my friends will let you go free. "

And that they did, strangely enough, though 'twas not willingly, thevictims knew, as they huddled into their places, shuddering, and weredriven away, the crowd standing glaring after them, a man or somuttering blasphemies, though none made any movement to follow, butloitered about and cast glances at her Grace of Osmonde, who waitedtill the equipages were well out of sight and danger. 

"'Twas wasted rage, " she said to those about her. "The poor light foolswere not worth ill-usage. "

The next day the Duke heard the tale, which had flown abroad over thetown. His very soul was thrilled by it and that it told him, and hewent to her Grace and poured forth to her a passion of love that wastouched with awe. 

"I could see you!" he cried, "when they told the story to me. I couldsee you as you stood there and held the wild beasts at bay. 'Twas thatI saw in your child-eyes when you rode past me in the hunting-field;'twas that fire which held them back, and the great sweet soul of youwhich has reached them in their dens and made you worshipped of them. "

"Twas that they _know_ me, " she answered; "'twas that I have stood bytheir sides in their blackest hours. I have seen their children born. Ihave helped their old ones and their young through death. Some I havesaved from the gallows. Some I have--" she stopped and hung her head asif black memories overpowered her. 

He knew what she had left unfinished. 

"You have been--to comfort those who lie in Newgate--at their lastextremity?" he ended for her. 

"Ay, " she answered. "The one who will show kindness to them in thoseawful hours they worship as God's self. There was a poor fellow I oncebefriended there"--she spoke slowly and her voice shook. "He wascondemned--for taking a man's life. The last night--before I lefthim--he knelt to me and swore--he had meant not murder. He had struckin rage--one who had tortured him with taunts till he went raving. Hestruck, and the man fell--and _he_ had killed him! And now must hang. "

"Good God!" cried my lord Duke. "By chance! In frenzy! Not knowing! Andhe died for it?"

"Ay, " she answered, her great eyes on his and wide with horror, "onTyburn Tree!"

_CHAPTER XXXI_

_Their Graces Keep their Wedding Day at Camylott_

"She came to Court at last, my Lord Duke, " said his Grace ofMarlborough. "She came at last--as I felt sure 'twas Fate she should. "

'Twas at Camylott he said this, where he had come in those days whichdarkened about him when, royal favour lost, the acclamations of afickle public stilled, its clamour of applause almost forgot and deniedby itself, his glory as statesman, commander, warrior seemed to sinkbeneath the horizon like a sunset in a winter sky. His splendid frameshattered by the stroke of illness, his heart bereaved, his great minddulled and saddened, there were few friends faithful to him, but myLord Duke of Osmonde, who had never sought his favour or required hisprotection, who had often held views differing from his own and hiddennone of them, was among the few in whose company he found solace andpleasure. 

"I see you as I was, " he would say. "Nay, rather as I might have beenhad Nature given me a thing she gave to you and withheld from JohnChurchill. You were the finer creature and less disturbed by poorworldly dreams. "

So more than once he came to be guest at Camylott, and would be movedto pleasure by the happiness and fulness of life in the very air of theplace, by the joyousness of the tall, handsome children, by the spiritand sweet majesty of the tall beauty their mother, by the loveliness ofthe country and the cheerful air of well-being among the villagers andtenantry. But most of all he gave thought to the look which dwelt inthe eyes of my Lord Duke and the woman who was so surely mate andcompanion as well as wife to him. When, though 'twas even at thesimplest moment, each looked at the other, 'twas a heavenly thing plainto see. 

Upon one of their wedding-days he was at Camylott with them. 'Twas buta short time before the quiet death of Mistress Anne, and was the tenthanniversary of their Graces' union. 

At Camylott they always spent their anniversary, though upon theirother domains the rejoicings which made Camylott happy were also held. These festivities were gay and rustic, including the pealing of churchbells, the lighting of bonfires, rural games, and feastings; but theywere most noted for a feature her Grace herself had invented before shehad yet been twelve months a wife, and 'twas a pretty fancy, too, aswell as a kind thought. 

She had talked of it first to her husband one summer afternoon as theywalked together in the gold glow of sunset through Camylott Woods. 'Twas one of many happy hours shared with her which he remembered tohis life's end, and could always call up in his mind the deep amberlight filtering through the trees, the thick green growth of the fernsand the scent of them, the moss under foot and on the huge fallen trunkthey at last sate down upon. 

"To every man, woman, and child we rule over, " she said, "on that daywe will give a wedding gift. As the year passes we will discover whateach longs for most, and that thing we will give. So on that heavenlyday each one shall have his heart's desire--in memory, " she added, withsoft solemnity. 

And he echoed her. 

"In memory!" For neither at that time nor at any other did either ofthem forget those hours they had lived apart and how Fate had seemed towork them ill, and how they had been desolate and hungered. 

So on each morning of the wedding-day, while the bells were ringing apeal, the flag flying from the Tower, the park prepared for games andfeasting, a crowd of ruddy countenances, clean smocks, petticoats, andred cloaks flocked on the terrace from which the gifts were given. 

'Twas from his invalid-chair within the library window that the oncegreat Commander sate and saw this sight; her Grace standing by herhusband at a long table, giving each gift with her own hand and sayinga few words to each recipient with a bright freedom 'twas worth anyman's while to see. 

The looker-on remembered the histories he had heard of the handsomehoyden whose male attire had been the Gloucestershire scandal, theCourt beauty who in the midst of her triumphs had chosen to play gentleconsort to an old husband, the Duchess who shone in the great worldlike the sun and who yet doffed her brocades and jewels to don sergeand canvas and labour in Rag Yard and Slaughter Alley to rescue thievesand beggars and watch the mothers of their hapless children in theirthroes. Ay, and more yet, to sit in the black condemned-cell at Newgateand hold the hand and pour courage into the soul of a shuddering wretchwho in the cold grey of morning would dangle from a gallows tree. 

"'Tis a strange nature, " he thought, "and has ever been so. It haspassed through some strange hours and some dark ones. Yet to beholdher----"

There had come to her side a young couple, the woman with a child inher arms courtesying blushingly, her youthful husband grinning andpulling his forelock. 

Her Grace took the infant and cuddled and kissed it, while its fatherand mother glowed with delight. 

"Tis a fine boy, Betty, " she said. "'Tis bigger than the last one, Tom. His christening finery is in the package here, and I will stand sponsoras before. "

"Mother, " said young John at her elbow, "may I not stand sponsor, too?"

She laughed and pulled his long love-locks. 

"Ay, my lord Marquess, " she answered, "if his parents are willing totake such a young one. "

Mistress Anne sate by their guest, he holding her in great favour. Asthe people came for their gifts she told him their names and stories. Through weakness she walked about but little in these days, and thefailing soldier liked her company, so she often sate near him in herlounging-chair and with gentle artfulness lured him into reminiscencesof his past campaigns. She was very frail to-day, and in her whiterobe, and with her large eyes which seemed to have outgrown her face, she looked like the wraith of a woman rather than a creature of fleshand blood. 

"Those two her Grace rescued, " she said, as Betty and Tom Beck retired;"the one from woe, the other from cruel wickedness. He had betrayed thepoor child and deserted her, and 'twas her Grace who touched his heartand woke manhood in it, and made them happy man and wife. "

Then came an old woman leading a girl and boy, both fair and bloomingand with blue eyes and fair curling locks. 

"Are they both well and both happy, dame?" the Duchess asked. "Yes, that they are, I see. And I know they are both good. "

She took the girl's face in both hands and smiled into it as she mighthave smiled at a flower, and then kissed her tenderly. She gave her alittle new gown and a pretty huswife stocked with implements to makeit. She put her hand on the boy's shoulder and looked at him as hismother would have looked had she been tender of him. 

"For you, Robin, " she said, "there are books. I know 'tis books andlearning you long for, and you shall have them. His Grace's Chaplainhas promised me to teach you. "

The boy clasped the books under his arm, hugging them against hisbreast, and when her Grace turned to the next newcomer he seized a foldof her robe and kissed it. 

"Who are those children?" the Captain-General asked. "They do not looklike rustics. "

"Those two she rescued also, " answered Mistress Anne in a low voice. "She found them in a thieves' haunt being trained as pickpockets. Theyare the cast-off offspring of a gentleman who lived an evil life. "

"Was she told his name?"

"Yes, " Mistress Anne said, lower still; "'twas a gentleman whowas--lost. Sir John Oxon. "

The mystery of this gentleman's disappearance was a thing forgotten, but Mistress Anne's hearer recalled it, and that the man had left anevil reputation, and that 'twas said that in the first bloom of hisyouth he had been among the worshippers of the Gloucestershire beauty, and there passed through the old Duke's mind a vague wonder as towhether the Duchess remembered girlish sentiments the hoyden had livedthrough and forgot. 

It seemed the man's name being once drawn from the past was not to beallowed to rest, for later in the day he heard of him again, andcuriously indeed. 

There came in the afternoon from town a sturdy, loud-voiced countrygentleman, with a red, honest face and a good-humoured eye, and he wasso received by the family--by his Grace, who shook him warmly by thehand, by the Duchess, who gave him both hers to kiss, and by the youngones, who cried out in rejoicing over him--that their distinguishedguest perceived him to be an old friend who was, as it were, an oldcomrade. 

And so it proved, for 'twas soon revealed to him by the gentlemanhimself (whose name was Sir Christopher Crowell, and whose estate layon the borders of Warwickshire and Gloucestershire) that he had beenone of the boon companions of her Grace's father, Sir Jeoffry Wildairs, and he had known her from the time she was five years old, and had beenfirst made the comrade and plaything of a band of the worst rioters inthree counties. 

"Ay!" he cried, exultantly, for he seemed always exultant when he spokeof her Grace, who was plainly his idol. "At seven she would toss offher ale, and sing and swear as wickedly as any man among us, and hadgreat black eyes that flashed fire when we crossed her, and her hairhung below her waist, and she was the most beauteous child-devil andthe most lawless, that man or woman ever clapt eyes on. And to beholdher now! to behold her now!" And then he motioned towards the littleAnne, who was flashing-eyed, and long-limbed, and a brown beauty. "'Tismy Lady Anne who is most like her, " he said; "but Lord! she hath beentreated fair by Fortune, and loved and cherished, and is a young queenalready. "

Later, when the night had fallen and was thick with stars, and thefestal lights were twinkling like other stars among the trees of thepark, and from the happy crowds at play there floated the sounds oflaughter and joyful voices, their Graces and their guests sate orwalked upon the terrace amid the night-scents of flowers and watchedthe merriment going on below them and talked together. 

"Ay, " broke forth old Sir Christopher, "you two happy folk light joyfulfires, and make joyful hearts wheresoever you go. "

'Twas at this moment two of the other country guests--they being oldGloucestershire comrades also--stayed their sauntering before her Graceto speak to her. 

"Eldershawe and me have just been saying, " broke forth one of them, chuckling, "how this bringeth back old times, though 'tis little likethem. We three were of the birthnight party--Eldershawe, Chris, and me. Thou dost not forget old friends, Clo, and would not, wert thou tentimes a Duchess. "

"Nay, not I, " answered her Grace. "Not I. "

"There be not many of us left, " said Sir Christopher, ruefully. "Thypoor old Dad is under sod, and others with him. Two necks were broke inhunting, the others died of years or drink. "

"But one we know naught of, egad!" said my Lord Eldershawe, "and he wasmy kinsman. "

"Lord, yes, " cried out the other; "Jack Oxon! Jack, who came among usall curls and essences and brocades and lace. Thou'st not forgot JackOxon, Clo, for the fellow was wild in love with thee. "

"No, I have not forgotten Sir John, " she answered, and turned aside alittle to break a rose from a bush near her and hold it to her face. 

"Nay, that she hath not, " cried Sir Christopher, "that I can swear to. I saw the boy and girl to-day, Clo, and, Lord! how they are like tohim. "

"Yes, they are like him, " she answered, gravely. 

"The two thou show'dst me playing 'neath the trees?" said Eldershawe. "Ay, they are like enough. "

"And but for her Grace would have been brought up a hang-dog thief anda poor drab, with all their beauty, " went on Sir Christopher. "Ecod, thou hast done well, Clo, the task 'twas thy whim to take uponthyself. "

"What generous deed was that?" asked my lord Duke of Osmonde, drawingnear. 

"The task of undoing the wrongs a villain had done, if 'twere so therecould be undoing of them, " answered the old fellow. "A woman rich asI, " said she, "should set herself some good work to do. This shall bemine--to live John Oxon's life again and make it bring forth goodinstead of evil. "

Her Grace sate motionless and so did Mistress Anne, who had sunk backin her chair, and in the starlit darkness had grown more white, and wasbreathing faint and quickly. In the park below the people laughed asmerry-makers will, in gay bursts, and half a dozen voices broke forthinto a snatch of song. 'Twas a good background for Sir Christopher, whowas well launched upon a subject that he loved and had not often chanceto hold forth upon, as her Grace was not fond of touching upon it. 

"Ten years hath she followed his wicked footsteps and I have followedwith her, " he rambled on. "I am not squeamish, Lord knoweth! and haveno reason to be; but had I known, when I began to aid in the searching, what mire I should have to wade through, ecod! I think I should havesaid, 'Let ill alone. '"

"But you did not, old friend, " said the Duchess's rich, low voice; "youdid not. "

Lady Betty and her swains had sauntered near and joined the circle, attracted by the subject which waked in them a new interest in an oldmystery. 

"You have been her Grace's almoner, Sir Christopher, " said herladyship. "That accounts for the stories I have heard of yourcharities. They were her Grace's good deeds, not your own. "

"She knew I would sweep the kennel for her on hands and knees if shewould have me, " said Sir Chris, "and at the first of it she knew notthe ill quarters of the town as I did, and bade me make search for herand ask questions. But 'twas not long before she found her way herselfand learned that a tall, strong beauty can do more to reach hearts thana red-faced old man can. Lord, how they love and fear her! And amongthe honest folk Jack Oxon wronged--poor tradesmen he ruined by histrickery, and simple working-folk who lost their all through him--theywould kiss the dust her shoe hath trod. His debts she hath paid, hisvictims she hath rescued, the wounds he dealt she hath healed and madesound flesh, and for ten years she hath done it!"

Her Grace rose to her feet, the rose uplifted in a listening gesture. From the park below there floated up the lilting music of a dance, alight, unrustic measure played by their own musicians. 

"The dancing begins, " she said. "Hark! the dancing begins. "

Mistress Anne put out her hand and caught at her sister's dress andheld a fold of its richness in her trembling hand, though her Grace wasnot aware of what she did. 

"How sweet the music sounds, " the poor gentlewoman said, nervously. "How sweet it sounds. "

My Lady Betty Tantillion held up her hand as the Duchess, a momentsince, had held the rose. 

"I have heard that tune before, " she cried. 

"And I, " said Lord Charles. 

"And I, " Sir Harry Granville echoed. 

Lady Betty broke into a shiver. 

"Why, " she cried, "how strange--at just this moment. We danced to it atthe ball at Dunstanwolde House the very night 'twas made known Sir JohnOxon had disappeared. "

The Duchess held the rose poised in her hand and slowly bent her head. 

"Yes, " she said, "'tis the very tune. "

She stood among them--my lord Duke remembered it later--the centrefigure of a sort of circle, some sitting, some standing--his Grace ofMarlborough, Mistress Anne, Osmonde himself, the country gentlemen, myLady Betty and her swains, and others who drew near. She was thecentre, standing in the starlight, her rose held in her hand. 

"Lord, 'twas a strange thing, " said Sir Christopher, thoughtfully, "that a man could disappear like that and leave no trace--no trace. "

"Has--all enquiry--ceased?" her Grace asked, quietly. 

"There was not much even at first, save from his creditors, " said LordCharles, with a laugh. 

"Ay, but 'twas strange, " said old Sir Christopher. "I've thought andthought what could have come of him. Why, Clo, _thou_ wast the one whosaw him last. What dost _thou_ think?"

In the park below there was a sudden sweet swelling of the music: thedancers had joined in with their voices. 

"Yes, " said the Duchess, "'twas I who saw him last. " And for a fewseconds all paused to listen to the melody in the air. But SirChristopher came back to his theme. 

"What sort of humour was the man in?" he asked. "Did he complain of 'slot?"

Her Grace hesitated a second, as one who thought, and then shook herhead. 

"No, " she answered, and no other word. 

"Did he speak of taking a journey?" said Lady Betty. 

And the Duchess shook her head slow again, and answered as before, "No. "

And the music swelled with fresh added voices, and floated up gayer andmore sweet. 

"Was he dressed for travel?" asked Lord Charles, he being likely tothink first of the meaning of a man's dress. 

"No, " said her Grace. 

And then my lord Duke drew near behind her, and spoke over hershoulder. 

"Did he bid you any farewell?" he said. 

She had not known he was so close, and gave a great start and droppedher rose upon the terrace. Before she answered, she stooped herself andpicked it up. 

"No, " she said, very low. "No; none. "

"Then, " his Grace said, "I will tell you what _I_ think. "

"You!" said my Lady Betty. "Has your Grace thought?"

"Often, " he answered. "Who has not, at some time? I--knew more of theman than many. More than once his life touched mine. "

"Yours!" they cried. 

He waved his hand with the gesture of a man who would sweep away somememory. 

"Yes, " he said; "once I saw the end of a poor soul he had maddened, and'twas a cruel thing. " He turned his face towards his wife. 

"The morning that he left your Grace, " he said, "'tis my thought _hewent not far_. "

"Not far?" the party exclaimed, but the Duchess joined not in thechorus. 

"Between Dunstanwolde House and his lodgings, " he went on, "lie some ofthe worst haunts in London. He was well known there, and not by friendsbut by enemies. Perchance some tortured creature who owed him a bitterdebt may have lain in wait and paid it. "

The Duchess turned and gazed at him with large eyes. 

"What--" she said, almost hoarsely, "what do you mean?"

"There were men, " he answered, gravely--"husbands, fathers, andbrothers--there were women he had driven to despair and madness, whomight well have struck him down. "

"You mean, " said her Grace, almost in a whisper, "you mean that he--wasmurdered?"

"Nay, " he replied, "not murdered--struck a frenzied blow and killed, and it might have been by one driven mad with anguish and unknowingwhat he did. "

Her Grace caught her breath. 

"As 'twas with the poor man I told you of, " she broke forth as if ineagerness, "the one who died on Tyburn Tree?"

"Yes, " was his answer. 

"Perhaps--you are right, " she said, and passed her hand across herbrow; "perhaps--you--are right. "

"But there was found no trace, " Sir Christopher cried out; "no trace. "

"Ah!" said my lord Duke, slowly, "that is the mystery. A dead man'sbody is not easy hid. "

The Duchess broke forth laughing--almost wildly. The whole groupstarted at the sound. 

"Nay, nay!" she cried. "What dark things do we talk of! SirChristopher, Sir Christopher, 'twas you who set us on. A dead man'sbody is not easy hid!"

"'Tis enough to make a woman shudder, " cried Lady Betty, hysterically. 

"Yes, " said her Grace. "See, I am shuddering--I, who am built ofWildairs iron and steel. " And she held out her hands to them--her whitehands--and indeed they were trembling like leaves. 

The evil thing they had spoke of had surely sunk deep into her soul andtroubled it, though she had so laughed and lightly changed the subjectof their talk, for in the night she had an awful dream, and her lord, wakened from deep slumber--as he had been once before--started up tobehold her standing in the middle of the chamber--a tall white figurewith its arms outflung as if in wild despair, while she cried out infrenzy to the darkness. 

"I have _killed_ thee--I have _killed_ thee, " she wailed, "though Imeant it not--even hell itself doth know. Thou art a dead man--and_this_ is the worst of all!"

"'Tis a dream, " he cried aloud to her and clutched her in his warm, strong arms. "'Tis a dream--a dream! Awake!--Awake!--Awake!"

And she awoke and fell upon her knees, sobbing as those sob who areroused from such a horror. 

"A dream!--a dream!--a dream!" she cried. "And 'tis _you_ awake me!You--Gerald--Gerald!--And I have been ten years--ten years your wife!"

_CHAPTER XXXII_

_In the Turret Chamber--and in Camylott Wood_

When the great soldier returned to Blenheim Castle, his Grace ofOsmonde bore him company and having spent a few days in his society atthat great house returned to town, from whence he came again toCamylott. 

He reached there on a heavenly day, which seemed to him more peacefuland more sweet than any day the summer had so far brought, though ithad been a fair one. Many days had been bright and full of flower-scentand rustling of green leaves, and overarched by tender blueness withwhite clouds softly floating therein, but this one, as he rode, hethought held something in its beauty which seemed to make the earthseem nearer Heaven and Heaven more fair to lifted mortal eyes. Hethought this as his horse bore him over the white road, he thought itas he rode across the moor, 'twas in his mind as he passed through thevillage and saw the white cottages standing warm and peaceful in thesunshine, with good wives at the doors or at their windows, andchildren playing on the green, who stopped and bobbed courtesies to himor pulled their forelocks, grinning. 

Joan Bush was at her gate and stepped out and dipped a courtesy withappealing civility. 

"Your Grace, " she said, "if I might make so bold--poor Mistress Anne--"And having said so much checked herself in much confusion. "I lose mywits, " she said; "your Grace's pardon. Your Grace has been, to town andbut now comes back, and will not know. But we so love the kindgentlewoman--" and she mopped her eyes. 

"You mean that Mistress Anne is worse?" he said. 

"The poor lady fell into a sudden strange swoon but an hour ago, " sheanswered. "My Matthew, who was at the Tower of an errand said she camein from the flower-garden and sank lifeless. And the servants whocarried her to her chamber say 'twas like death. And she hath been solong fading. And we know full well the end must come soon. "

My lord Duke rode on. A fulness tightened his throat and he looked upat the blue sky. 

"Poor Anne! Kind Anne!" he said. "Pure heart! I could think 'twas forthe passing of her soul the day was made so fair. "

At the park gates the woman from the lodge stood at her door and madeher obeisance tearfully. She was an honest soul to whom her Grace'ssister seemed a saint from Heaven. 

"What is the last news?" said my lord Duke, speaking more from kindnessthan aught else. 

"That the dear lady lies in her bed in the Turret chamber and her Gracewatches with her alone. Oh, my lord Duke, God calls another angel toHimself this day!"

The very air was still with a strange stillness. The Tower itself rosewhite and clear against the blue as though its battlements and fairturrets might be part of the Eternal City. This strange fancy passedthrough his Grace's mind as he rode towards it. The ivy hung thickabout the window of Anne's chamber in the South Tower. 'Twas a room sheloved and had spent long, peaceful days in, and had fitted as a littleshrine. Her lovingness had taught her to feed the doves from it, andthey had grown to be her friends and companions, and now a little cloudof them flew about and lighted on the turrets and clung to the festoonsof ivy, and flew softly about as if they were drawn to the place bysome strange knowledge and waited for that which was to come to pass. Two or three sate upon the deep window-ledge and cooed as if they toldthose not so near what they could see inside the quiet room. 

On the terrace below the elder children stood John and Gerald andDaphne and Anne. They waited too, as the doves did, and their youngfaces were lifted that they might watch the window, and they were verysweet and gravely tender and unafraid and fair. 

When their father drew near them 'twas the child Daphne who spoke, putting her hand in his and meeting his eyes with a lovely look. 

"Father, " she said, "we think that Mother Anne lies dying in her room. We are not afraid; mother has told us that to die is only as if a birdwas let to fly out into the blue sky. And mother is with her, and weare waiting because we think--perhaps--we are not sure--but perhaps wemight see her soul fly out of the window like a white bird. It seems asif the doves were waiting too. "

My lord Duke kissed her and passed on. 

"You may see it, " he said, gently. "Who knows--and if you see it, sureit will be white. "

And he went quietly through the house and up the staircase leading toAnne's tower-chamber, and the pretty apartment her Grace had preparedfor her so lovingly to spend quiet hours in when she would be alone. This apartment led into the chamber, but now it was quite empty, forthe Duchess was with her sister, who lay on the bed in the room within, where the ivy hung in festoons about the high window, which seemed tolook up into the blue sky itself and shut out all the earth below andonly look on Heaven. 

To enter seemed like entering some sacred shrine where a pure saintlay, and upon the threshold his Grace lingered, almost fearing to goin and break upon the awful tenderness of this last hour, and the lastwords he heard the loving creature murmuring, while the being she hadso worshipped knelt beside her. 

"'Twas love, " he heard, "'twas love. What matter if I gave my soul foryou?"

He drew back with a quick sad beat of the heart. Poor, tendersoul--poor woman who had loved and given no sign--and only in her dyingdared to speak. 

And then there came a cry--and 'twas the voice of her he loved--and hestood spellbound. 'Twas a cry of anguish--of fear--of horror anddismay. 'Twas her voice as he had heard it ring out in the blackness ofher dream--her dear voice harsh with woe and broken into moaning--herdear voice which he had heard murmuring love to him--crooning over herchildren--laughing like music! And the torrent of words which shepoured forth made his blood cold, and yet as they fell upon his ear heknew--yes, now he _knew_--revealed no new story to him, even though ithad been until that hour untold. No, 'twas not new, for through many anhour when he had marked the shadow in her eyes he had vaguely guessedsome fatal burden lay upon her soul--and had striven to understand. 

"And then I struck him with my whip, " he heard, "knowing nothing, notseeing, only striking like a goaded, dying thing. And he fell--hefell--and all was done. "

None heard or saw my lord Duke when, later, he passed out from theempty room. He went forth into the fair day again, and through the Parkand into Camylott Wood. The deep amber light was there, and thegold-green stillness, and he passed onward till he reached the greatwood's depths, and stood beneath an oak-tree's broad-spread branches, leaning his back against the huge rough trunk, his arms folded. 

This was her secret burden--this. And Nature had so moulded him that hecould look upon it with just, unflinching eyes, his soul filled with agod-like, awful pity. 

In a walled-in cellar in the deserted Dunstanwolde House lay, waitingfor the call of Judgment Day, a handful of evil dust which once hadbeen a man--one whose each day of life from his youth upward hadseemed, as it had passed, to leave black dregs in some poorfellow-creature's cup. One frantic, unthinking blow struck in terrorand madness had ended him and all his evil doing, but left her standingfrenzied at the awfulness of the thing which had fallen upon her soulin her first hour of Heaven. And all her being had risen in revolt atthis most monstrous woe of chance, and in her torture she had criedout that in that hour she would not be struck down. 

"Of ending his base life I had never thought, " he had heard her wail, "though I had thought to end my own. But when Fate struck the blow forme, I swore that carrion should not taint my whole life through. "

To atone for this she had lived her life of passionate penance. Remembering this, she had prayed Heaven strike and blight her, in fearthat she herself should blight the noble and the innocent things sheloved. And while she had thought she bore the burden all alone, thegentle sister, who had so worshipped her, had known her secret andborne it with her silently. In dying she had revealed it, withtrembling and piteous love, and this my lord Duke had heard, and herpure words as she had died. 

"Anne! Anne!" the anguished voice had cried. "Must he know--my Gerald?Must I tell him all? If so I must, I will--upon my knees!"

"Nay, tell him not, " was faintly breathed in answer. "Let God tellhim--who understands. "

"'Tis in myself, " my lord Duke said at last, through his shut teeth, "'tis in _myself_ to have struck the blow, and had I done it and foundhim lie dead before me--in her dear name I swear, and in a new shrivensoul's presence, for sure the pure thing is near--I would have hid itas she has done; for _naught_ should have torn her from me! And for hersin, if sin it is counted, I will atone with her; and as she does herpenance, will do mine. And if, at the end of all things, she be calledto Judgment Bar, I will go with her and stand by her side. For her lifeis my life, and her soul my soul, her sentence my sentence; and beingher love I will bear it with her, and pray Him who judges to lay theburden heavier upon me than upon her. "

And he went back to the Tower and up the stairway to theturret-chamber, and there Mistress Anne lay still and calm and sweet asa child asleep, and flowers and fair chaplets lay all about her whitebed and on her breast and in her small, worn hands, and garlanded herpillow. And the setting sun had sent a shaft of golden glory throughthe window to touch her hair and the blossoms lying on it. 

And her sister stood beside her and looked down. And a new peace was onher face when she laid her cheek upon her husband's breast as heenfolded her. 

"She is my saint, " she said. "To-day she has taken my sins in her purehands to God and has asked mercy on them. "

"And so having done, dear Heart, " he answered her, "she lies amid herflowers, and smiles. "

But of that he had overheard he said no word. And if as time passedthere came some sacred hour when, their souls being one, there could beno veil not rent away by Love and Nature, and the secret each had keptwas revealed to the other, 'twas surely so revealed as but to draw themcloser and fill them with higher nobleness, for no other human creatureheard of it or guessed. 

So it befel that one man met his deserts by chance, and none werepunished, and only good grew out of his evil grave. And should there bea Power who for strange, high reasons calls forth helpless souls frompeaceful Nothingness to relentless Life, and judges all Life does andleaves undone, 'tis surely sate to trust its honesty and justice.