CHAPTER IX. THE CHAMPION
Mr. Caryll was well and handsomely housed, as became the man of fashion,in the lodging he had taken in Old Palace Yard. Knowing him from abroad,it was not impossible that the government--fearful of sedition sincethe disturbance caused by the South Sea distress, and aware of anundercurrent of Jacobitism--might for a time, at least, keep an eye uponhim. It behooved him, therefore, to appear neither more nor less thana lounger, a gentleman of pleasure who had come to London in quest ofdiversion. To support this appearance, Mr. Caryll had sought out somefriends of his in town. There were Stapleton and Collis, who had beenat Oxford with him, and with whom he had ever since maintained acorrespondence and a friendship. He sought them out on the very eveningof his arrival--after his interview with Lord Ostermore. He had thesatisfaction of being handsomely welcomed by them, and was plunged undertheir guidance into the gaieties that the town afforded liberally forpeople of quality.
Mr. Caryll was--as I hope you have gathered--an agreeable fellow, veryfree, moreover, with the contents of his well-equipped purse; and soyou may conceive that the town showed him a very friendly, cordialcountenance. He fell into the habits of the men whose company hefrequented; his days were as idle as theirs, and spent at the parade,the Ring, the play, the coffeehouse and the ordinary.
But under the gay exterior he affected he carried a spirit of most vileunrest. The anger which had prompted his impulse to execute, after all,the business on which he was come, and to deliver his father the letterthat was to work his ruin, was all spent. He had cooled, and cool itwas idle for him to tell himself that Lord Ostermore, by his heartlessallusion to the crime of his early years, had proved himself worthy ofnothing but the pit Mr. Caryll had been sent to dig for him. There weremoments when he sought to compel himself so to think, to steel himselfagainst all other considerations. But it was idle. The reflection thatthe task before him was unnatural came ever to revolt him. To gain ease,the most that he could do--and he had the faculty of it developed ina preternatural degree--was to put the business from him for the time,endeavor to forget it. And he had another matter to consider and toplague him--the matter of Hortensia Winthrop. He thought of her a greatdeal more than was good for his peace of mind, for all that he pretendedto a gladness that things were as they were. Each morning that helounged at the parade in St. James's Park, each evening that he visitedthe Ring, it was in the hope of catching some glimpse of her among thefashionable women that went abroad to see and to be seen. And on thethird morning after his arrival the thing he hoped for came to pass.
It had happened that my lady had ordered her carriage that morning,dressed herself with the habitual splendor, which but set off theshortcomings of her lean and angular person, egregiously coiffed,pulvilled and topknotted, and she had sent a message amounting to acommand to Mistress Winthrop that she should drive in the park with her.
Poor Hortensia, whose one desire was to hide her face from the town'suncharitable sight just then, fearing, indeed, that Rumor's unscrupuloustongue would be as busy about her reputation as her ladyship hadrepresented, attempted to assert herself by refusing to obey thecommand. It was in vain. Her ladyship dispensed with ambassadors,and went in person to convey her orders to her husband's ward, and toenforce them.
"What's this I am told?" quoth she, as she sailed into Hortensia's room."Do my wishes count for nothing, that you send me pert answers by mywoman?"
Hortensia rose. She had been sitting by the window, a book in her lap."Not so, indeed, madam. Not pert, I trust. I am none so well, and I fearthe sun."
"'Tis little wonder," laughed her ladyship; "and I'm glad on't, for itshows ye have a conscience somewhere. But 'tis no matter for that. Iam tender for your reputation, mistress, and I'll not have you shunningdaylight like the guilty thing ye know yourself to be."
"'Tis false, madam," said Hortensia, with indignation. "Your ladyshipknows it to be false."
"Harkee, ninny, if you'd have the town believe it false, you'll showyourself--show that ye have no cause for shame, no cause to hide youfrom the eyes of honest folk. Come, girl; bid your woman get your hoodand tippet. The carriage stays for us."
To Hortensia her ladyship's seemed, after all, a good argument. Did shehide, what must the town think but that it confirmed the talk that shemade no doubt was going round already. Better to go forth and brave it,and surely it should disarm the backbiters if she showed herself in thepark with Lord Rotherby's own mother.
It never occurred to her that this seeming tenderness for her reputationmight be but wanton cruelty on her ladyship's part; a gratifying of herspleen against the girl by setting her in the pillory of public sightto the end that she should experience the insult of supercilious glancesand lips that smile with an ostentation of furtiveness; a desire to putdown her pride and break the spirit which my lady accounted insolent andstubborn.
Suspecting naught of this, she consented, and drove out with herladyship as she was desired to do. But understanding of her ladyship'scruel motives, and repentance of her own acquiescence, were not long infollowing. Soon--very soon--she realized that anything would have beenbetter than the ordeal she was forced to undergo.
It was a warm, sunny morning, and the park was crowded with fashionableloungers. Lady Ostermore left her carriage at the gates, and entered theenclosure on foot, accompanied by Hortensia and followed at a respectfuldistance by a footman. Her arrival proved something of a sensation. Hatswere swept off to her ladyship, sly glances flashed at her companion,who went pale, but apparently serene, eyes looking straight before her;and there was an obvious concealing of smiles at first, which later grewto be all unconcealed, and, later still, became supplemented by remarksthat all might hear, remarks which did not escape--as they were meantnot to escape--her ladyship and Mistress Winthrop.
"Madam," murmured the girl, in her agony of shame, "we were notwell-advised to come. Will not your ladyship turn back?"
Her ladyship displayed a vinegary smile, and looked at her companionover the top of her slowly moving fan. "Why? Is't not pleasant here?"quoth she. "'Twill be more agreeable under the trees yonder. The sunwill not reach you there, child."
"'Tis not the sun I mind, madam," said Hortensia, but received noanswer. Perforce she must pace on beside her ladyship.
Lord Rotherby came by, arm in arm with his friend, the Duke of Wharton.It was a one-sided friendship. Lord Rotherby was but one of the manyof his type who furnished a court, a valetaille, to the gay, dissolute,handsome, witty duke, who might have been great had he not preferred hisvices to his worthier parts.
As they went by, Lord Rotherby bared his head and bowed, as did hiscompanion. Her ladyship smiled upon him, but Hortensia's eyes lookedrigidly ahead, her face a stone. She heard his grace's insolent laughas they passed on; she heard his voice--nowise subdued, for he was a manwho loved to let the world hear what he might have to say.
"Gad! Rotherby, the wind has changed! Your Dulcinea flies with you o'Wednesday, and has ne'er a glance for you o' Saturday! I' faith! yedeserve no better. Art a clumsy gallant to have been overtaken, and themaid's in the right on't to resent your clumsiness."
Rotherby's reply was lost in a splutter of laughter from a group ofsycophants who had overheard his grace's criticism and were but tooready to laugh at aught his grace might deign to utter. Her cheeksburned; it was by an effort that she suppressed the tears that anger wasforcing to her eyes.
The duke, 'twas plain, had set the fashion. Emulators were not wanting.Stray words she caught; by instinct was she conscious of the oglings,the fluttering of fans from the women, the flashing of quizzing-glassesfrom the men. And everywhere was there a suppressed laugh, a stifledexclamation of surprise at her appearance in public--yet not so stifledbut that it reached her, as it was intended that it should.
In the shadow of a great elm, around which there was a seat, a littlegroup had gathered, of which the centre was the sometime toast of thetown and queen of many Wells, the Lady Mary Deller, still beautiful andstill unwed--as is
so often the way of reigning toasts--but alreadypast her pristine freshness, already leaning upon the support of art tomaintain the endowments she had had from nature. She was accounted wittyby the witless, and by some others.
Of the group that paid its court to her and her companions--two gigglingcousins in their first season were Mr. Caryll and his friends, Sir HarryCollis and Mr. Edward Stapleton, the former of whom--he was the lady'sbrother-in-law--had just presented him. Mr. Caryll was dressed with evenmore than his ordinary magnificence. He was in dove-colored cloth, hiscoat very richly laced with gold, his waistcoat--of white brocadewith jeweled buttons, the flower-pattern outlined in finest goldthread--descended midway to his knees, whilst the ruffles at his wristsand the Steinkirk at his throat were of the finest point. He cut afigure of supremest elegance, as he stood there, his chestnut headslightly bowed in deference as my Lady Mary spoke, his hat tucked underhis arm, his right hand outstretched beside him to rest upon the goldhead of his clouded-amber cane.
To the general he was a stranger still in town, and of the sort thatdraws the eye and provokes inquiry. Lady Mary, the only goal of whoseshallow existence was the attention of the sterner sex, who loved tobreak hearts as a child breaks toys, for the fun of seeing how they lookwhen broken--and who, because of that, had succeeded in breaking farfewer than she fondly imagined--looked up into his face with the "mostperditiously alluring" eyes in England--so Mr. Craske, the poet, whostood at her elbow now, had described them in the dedicatory sonnet ofhis last book of poems. (Wherefore, in parenthesis be it observed, shehad rewarded him with twenty guineas, as he had calculated that shewould.)
There was a sudden stir in the group. Mr. Craske had caught sight ofLady Ostermore and Mistress Winthrop, and he fell to giggling, a flimsyhandkerchief to his painted lips. "Oh, 'Sbud!" he bleated. "Let me die!The audaciousness of the creature! And behold me the port and glance ofher! Cold as a vestal, let me perish!"
Lady Mary turned with the others to look in the direction he waspointing--pointing openly, with no thought of dissembling.
Mr. Caryll's eyes fell upon Mistress Winthrop, and his glance was oddlyperceptive. He observed those matters of which Mr. Craske had seemedto make sardonic comment: the erect stiffness of her carriage, the eyesthat looked neither to right nor left, and the pallor of her face.He observed, too, the complacent air with which her ladyship advancedbeside her husband's ward, her fan moving languidly, her head noddingto her acquaintance, as in supreme unconcern of the stir her coming hadeffected.
Mr. Caryll had been dull indeed, knowing what he knew, had he notunderstood to the full the humiliation to which Mistress Hortensia wasbeing of purpose set submitted.
And just then Rotherby, who had turned, with Wharton and another now,came by them again. This time he halted, and his companions with him,for just a moment, to address his mother. She turned; there was anexchange of greetings, in which Mistress Hortensia standing rigid asstone--took no part. A silence fell about; quizzing-glasses went up; alleyes were focussed upon the group. Then Rotherby and his friends resumedtheir way.
"The dog!" said Mr. Caryll, between his teeth, but went unheard byany, for in that moment Dorothy Deller--the younger of the Lady Mary'scousins--gave expression to the generous and as yet unsullied littleheart that was her own.
"Oh, 'tis shameful!" she cried. "Will you not go speak with her, Molly?"
The Lady Mary stiffened. She looked at the company about her with anapologetic smile. "I beg that ye'll not heed the child," said she."'Tis not that she is without morals--but without knowledge. An innocentlittle fool; no worse."
"'Tis bad enough, I vow," laughed an old beau, who sought fame as a manof a cynical turn of humor.
"But fortunately rare," said Mr. Caryll dryly. "Like charity, almostunknown in this Babylon."
His tone was not quite nice, although perhaps the Lady Mary was the onlyone to perceive the note of challenge in it. But Mr. Craske, thepoet, diverted attention to himself by a prolonged, malicious chuckle.Rotherby was just moving away from his mother at that moment.
"They've never a word for each other to-day!" he cried. "Oh, 'Sbud! notso much as the mercy of a glance will the lady afford him." And he burstinto the ballad of King Francis:
"Souvent femme varie, Bien, fol est qui s'y fie!"
and laughed his prodigious delight at the aptness of his quotation.
Mr. Caryll put up his gold-rimmed quizzing-glass, and directed throughthat powerful weapon of offence an eye of supreme displeasure upon thesinger. He could not contain his rage, yet from his languid tone nonewould have suspected it. "Sir," said he, "ye've a singular unpleasantvoice."
Mr. Craske, thrown out of countenance by so much directness, couldonly stare; the same did the others, though some few tittered, forMr. Craske, when all was said, was held in no great esteem by thediscriminant.
Mr. Caryll lowered his glass. "I've heard it said by the uncharitablethat ye were a lackey before ye became a plagiarist. 'Tis a rumor Ishall contradict in future; 'tis plainly a lie, for your voice betraysyou to have been a chairman."
"Sir--sir--" spluttered the poetaster, crimson with anger andmortification. "Is this--is this--seemly--between gentlemen?"
"Between gentlemen it would not be seemly," Mr. Caryll agreed.
Mr. Craske, quivering, yet controlling himself, bowed stiffly. "I havetoo much respect for myself--" he gasped.
"Ye'll be singular in that, no doubt," said Mr. Caryll, and turned hisshoulder upon him.
Again Mr. Craske appeared to make an effort at self-control; again hebowed. "I know--I hope--what is due to the Lady Mary Deller, to--toanswer you as--as befits. But you shall hear from me, sir. You shallhear from me."
He bowed a third time--a bow that took in the entire company--andwithdrew in high dudgeon and with a great show of dignity. A pauseensued, and then the Lady Mary reproved Mr. Caryll.
"Oh, 'twas cruel in you, sir," she cried. "Poor Mr. Craske! And to dubhim plagiarist! 'Twas the unkindest cut of all!"
"Truth, madam, is never kind."
"Oh, fie! You make bad worse!" she cried.
"He'll put you in the pillory of his verse for this," laughed Collis."Ye'll be most scurvily lampooned for't."
"Poor Mr. Craske!" sighed the Lady Mary again.
"Poor, indeed; but not in the sense to deserve pity. An upstart impostorsuch as that to soil a lady with his criticism!"
Lady Mary's brows went up. "You use a singular severity, sir," sheopined, "and I think it unwise in you to grow so hot in the defence of areputation whose owner has so little care for it herself."
Mr. Caryll looked at her out of his level gray-green eyes; a hot answerquivered on his tongue, an answer that had crushed her venom for sometime and had probably left him with a quarrel on his hands. Yet hissmile, as he considered her, was very sweet, so sweet that her ladyship,guessing nothing of the bitterness it was used to cover, went as near asmirk as it was possible for one so elegant. He was, she judged, anothervictim ripe for immolation on the altar of her goddessship. And Mr.Caryll, who had taken her measure very thoroughly, seeing something ofhow her thoughts were running, bethought him of a sweeter vengeance.
"Lady Mary," he cried, a soft reproach in his voice, "I have been soremistook in you if you are one to be guided by the rabble." And he waveda hand toward the modish throng.
She knit her fine brows, bewildered.
"Ah!" he cried, interpreting her glance to suit his ends, "perish thethought, indeed! I knew that I could not be wrong. I knew that one sopeerless in all else must be peerless, too, in her opinions; judgingfor herself, and standing firm upon her judgment in disdain of meanersouls--mere sheep to follow their bell-wether."
She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing, being too intriguedby this sudden and most sweet flattery. Her mere beauty had oft beenpraised, and in terms that glowed like fire. But what was that comparedwith this fine appreciation of her less obvious mental parts--and thatfrom one who had seen the world?
Mr. Caryll was bending over her. "What a chance is here," he wasmurmuring, "to mark your lofty detachment--to show how utter is yourindifference to what the common herd may think."
"As--as how?" she asked, blinking up at him.
The others stood at gaze, scarce yet suspecting the drift of so muchtalk.
"There is a poor lady yonder, of whose fair name a bubble is being blownand pricked. I dare swear there's not a woman here durst speak to her.Yet what a chance for one that dared! How fine a triumph would be hers!"He sighed. "Heigho! I almost wish I were a woman, that I might make thattriumph mine and mark my superiority to these painted dolls that haveneither wit nor courage."
The Lady Mary rose, a faint color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her fineeyes. A great joy flashed into Mr. Caryll's in quick response; a joy inher--she thought with ready vanity--and a heightening admiration.
"Will you make it yours, as it should be--as it must ever be--to leadand not to follow?" he cried, flattering incredibility trembling in hisvoice.
"And why not, sir?" she demanded, now thoroughly aroused.
"Why not, indeed--since you are you?" quoth he. "It is what I had hopedin you, and yet--and yet what I had almost feared to hope."
She frowned upon him now, so excellently had he done his work. "Whyshould you have feared that?"
"Alas! I am a man of little faith--unworthy, indeed, your good opinionsince I entertained a doubt. It was a blasphemy."
She smiled again. "You acknowledge your faults with such a grace," saidshe, "that we must needs forgive them. And now to show you how muchyou need forgiveness. Come, children," she bade her cousins--for whoseinnocence she had made apology but a moment back. "Your arm, Harry," shebegged her brother-in-law.
Sir Harry obeyed her readily, but without eagerness. In his heart hecursed his friend Caryll for having set her on to this.
Mr. Caryll himself hung upon her other side, his eyes toward LadyOstermore and Hortensia, who, whilst being observed by all, were beingapproached by few; and these few confined themselves to an exchangeof greetings with her ladyship, which constituted a worse offence toMistress Winthrop than had they stayed away.
Suddenly, as if drawn by his ardent gaze, Hortensia's eyes moved atlast from their forward fixity. Her glance met Mr. Caryll's across theintervening space. Instantly he swept off his hat, and bowed profoundly.The action drew attention to himself. All eyes were focussed upon him,and between many a pair there was a frown for one who should dare thusto run counter to the general attitude.
But there was more to follow. The Lady Mary accepted Mr. Caryll'ssalutation of Hortensia as a signal. She led the way promptly, and thelittle band swept forward, straight for its goal, raked by the volleysfrom a thousand eyes, under which the Lady Mary already began to giggleexcitedly.
Thus they reached the countess, the countess standing very rigid in heramazement, to receive them.
"I hope I see your ladyship well," said Lady Mary.
"I hope your ladyship does," answered the countess tartly.
Mistress Winthrop's eyes were lowered; her cheeks were scarlet. Herdistress was plain, born of her doubt of the Lady Mary's purpose, andsuspense as to what might follow.
"I have not the honor of your ward's acquaintance, Lady Ostermore," saidLady Mary, whilst the men were bowing, and her cousins curtseying to thecountess and her companion collectively.
The countess gasped, recovered, and eyed the speaker without any signof affection. "My husband's ward, ma'am," she corrected, in a voice thatseemed to discourage further mention of Hortensia.
"'Tis but a distinction," put in Mr. Caryll suggestively.
"Indeed, yes. Will not your ladyship present me?" The countess'malevolent eyes turned a moment upon Mr. Caryll, smiling demurely atLady Mary's elbow. In his face--as well as in the four words he haduttered--she saw that here was work of his, and he gained nothing in herfavor by it. Meanwhile there were no grounds--other than such as musthave been wantonly offensive to the Lady Mary, and so not to be dreamedof--upon which to refuse her request. The countess braced herself, andwith an ill grace performed the brief ceremony of presentation.
Mistress Winthrop looked up an instant, then down again; it was apiteous, almost a pleading glance.
Lady Mary, leaving the countess to Sir Harry Stapleton, Caryll and theothers, moved to Hortensia's side for a moment she was at loss what tosay, and took refuge in a commonplace.
"I have long desired the pleasure of your acquaintance," said she.
"I am honored, madam," replied Hortensia, with downcast eyes. Thenlifting them with almost disconcerting suddenness. "Your ladyship haschosen an odd season in which to gratify this desire with which youhonor me."
Lady Mary laughed, as much at the remark as for the benefit of thosewhose eyes were upon her. She knew there would not be wanting many whowould condemn her; but these should be far outnumbered by those whowould be lost in admiration of her daring, that she could so fly in theface of public opinion; and she was grateful to Mr. Caryll for havingsuggested to her a course of such distinction.
"I could have chosen no better season," she replied, "to mark my scornof evil tongues and backbiters."
Color stained Hortensia's cheek again; gratitude glowed in her eyes."You are very noble, madam," she answered with flattering earnestness.
"La!" said the Lady Mary. "Is nobility, then, so easily achieved?" Andthereafter they talked of inconsequent trifles, until Mr. Caryll movedtowards them, and Lady Mary turned aside to speak to the countess.
At Mr. Caryll's approach Hortensia's eyes had been lowered again, andshe made no offer to address him as he stood before her now, hat underarm, leaning easily upon his amber cane.
"Oh, heart of stone!" said he at last. "Am I not yet forgiven?"
She misread his meaning--perhaps already the suspicion she now voicedhad been in her mind. She looked up at him sharply. "Was it--was it youwho fetched the Lady Mary to me?" she inquired.
"Lo!" said he. "You have a voice! Now Heaven be praised! I was fearingit was lost for me--that you had made some awful vow never again torejoice my ears with the music of it."
"You have not answered my question," she reminded him.
"Nor you mine," said he. "I asked you am I not yet forgiven."
"Forgiven what?"
"For being born an impudent, fleering coxcomb--twas that you called me,I think."
She flushed deeply. "If you would win forgiveness, you should not remindme of the offence," she answered low.
"Nay," he rejoined, "that is to confound forgiveness with forgetfulness.I want you to forgive and yet to remember."
"That were to condone."
"What else? 'Tis nothing less will satisfy me."
"You expect too much," she answered, with a touch that was almost ofsternness.
He shrugged and smiled whimsically. "It is my way," he saidapologetically. "Nature has made me expectant, and life, whilst showingme the folly of it, has not yet cured me."
She looked at him, and repeated her earlier question. "Was it at yourbidding that Lady Mary came to speak with me?"
"Fie!" he cried. "What insinuations do you make against her?"
"Insinuations?"
"What else? That she should do things at my bidding!"
She smiled understanding. "You have a talent, sir, for crooked answers."
"'Tis to conceal the rectitude of my behavior."
"It fails of its object, then," said she, "for it deludes no one."She paused and laughed at his look of assumed blankness. "I am deeplybeholden to you," she whispered quickly, breathing at once gratitude andconfusion.
"Though I don't descry the cause," said he, "'twill be something tocomfort me."
More he might have added then, for the mad mood was upon him, awakenedby those soft brown eyes of hers. But in that moment the others of thatlittle party crowded upon them to take their leave of Mistress Winthrop.
Mr. Caryll felt satisfied that enough had been done to curb the slanderconcerni
ng Hortensia. But he was not long in learning how profound washis mistake. On every side he continued to hear her discussed, and insuch terms as made his ears tingle and his hands itch to be at work inher defence; for, with smirks and sneers and innuendoes, her escapadewith Lord Rotherby continued to furnish a topic for the town as herladyship had sworn it would. Yet by what right could he espouse hercause with any one of her defamers without bringing her fair name intostill more odious notoriety?
And meanwhile he knew that he was under strict surveillance from Mr.Green; knew that he was watched wherever he went; and nothing but hisconfidence that no evidence could be produced against him allowed him toremain, as he did, all unconcerned of this.
Leduc had more than once seen Mr. Green about Old Palace Yard, besides acouple of his underlings, one or the other of whom was never absentfrom the place, no doubt with intent to observe who came and went at Mr.Caryll's. Once, indeed, during the absence of master and servant, Mr.Caryll's lodging was broken into, and on Leduc's return he found aconfusion which told him how thoroughly the place had been ransacked.
If Mr. Caryll had had anything to hide, this would have given him thehint to take his precautions; but as he had nothing that was in theleast degree in incriminating, he went his ways in supremest unconcernof the vigilance exerted over him. He used, however, a greaterdiscretion in the resorts he frequented. And if upon occasion he visitedsuch Tory meeting-places as the Bell Tavern in King Street or theCocoa-Tree in Pall Mall, he was still more often to be found at White's,that ultra-Whig resort.
It was at this latter house, one evening three or four days after hismeeting with Hortensia in the park, that the chance was afforded himat last of vindicating her honor in a manner that need not add to thescandal that was already abroad, nor serve to couple his name withhers unduly. And it was Lord Rotherby himself who afforded him theopportunity.
The thing fell out in this wise: Mr. Caryll was at cards with HarryCollis and Stapleton and Major Gascoigne, in a room above-stairs. Therewere at least a dozen others present, some also at play, others merelylounging. Of the latter was his Grace of Wharton. He was a slender,graceful gentleman, whose face, if slightly effeminate and markedlydissipated, was nevertheless of considerable beauty. He was verysplendid in a suit of green camlett and silver lace, and he wore aflaxen periwig without powder.
He was awaiting Rotherby, with whom--as he told the company--he wasfor a frolic at Drury Lane, where a ridotto was following the play. Hespoke, as usual, in a loud voice that all might hear, and his talk wasloose and heavily salted as became the talk of a rake of his exaltedrank. It was chiefly concerned with airing his bitter grievance againstMrs. Girdlebank, of the Theatre Royal, of whom he announced himself"devilishly enamoured."
He inveighed against her that she should have the gross vulgarityto love her husband, and against her husband that he should have theaudacity to play the watchdog over her, and bark and growl at the duke'sapproach.
"A plague on all husbands, say I," ended the worthy president of theBold Bucks.
"Nay, now, but I'm a husband myself, gad!" protested Mr. Sidney, who wasquite the most delicate, mincing man of fashion about town, and one ofthat valetaille that hovered about his Grace of Wharton's heels.
"'Tis no matter in your case," said the duke, with that contempt he usedtowards his followers. "Your wife's too ugly to be looked at." And Mr.Sidney's fresh protest was drowned in the roar of laughter that wentup to applaud that brutal frankness. Mr. Caryll turned to the fop, whohappened to be standing at his elbow.
"Never repine, man," said he. "In the company you keep, such a wifemakes for peace of mind. To have that is to have much."
Wharton resumed his railings at the Girdlebanks, and was still at themwhen Rotherby came in.
"At last, Charles!" the duke hailed him, rising. "Another minute, and Ihad gone without you."
But Rotherby scarce looked at him, and answered with unwonted shortness.His eyes had discovered Mr. Caryll. It was the first time he had runagainst him since that day, over a week ago, at Stretton House, and atsight of him now all Rotherby's spleen was moved. He stood and stared,his dark eyes narrowing, his cheeks flushing slightly under their tan.Wharton, who had approached him, observing his sudden halt, his suddenlook of concentration, asked him shortly what might ail him.
"I have seen someone I did not expect to find in a resort of gentlemen,"said Rotherby, his eyes ever on Mr. Caryll, who--engrossed in hisgame--was all unconscious of his lordship's advent.
Wharton followed the direction of his companion's gaze, and givingnow attention himself to Mr. Caryll, he fell to appraising his genteelappearance, negligent of the insinuation in what Rotherby had said.
"'Sdeath!" swore the duke. "'Tis a man of taste--a travelled gentlemanby his air. Behold me the grace of that shoulder-knot, Charles, andthe set of that most admirable coat. Fifty guineas wouldn't buy hisSteinkirk. Who is this beau?"
"I'll present him to your grace," said Rotherby shortly. He hadpretentions at being a beau himself; but his grace--supreme arbiter insuch matters--had never yet remarked it.
They moved across the room, greetings passing as they went. At theirapproach, Mr. Caryll looked up. Rotherby made him a leg with anexcessive show of deference, arguing irony. "'Tis an unlooked-forpleasure to meet you here, sir," said he in a tone that drew theattention of all present.
"No pleasures are so sweet as the unexpected," answered Mr. Caryll, withcasual amiability, and since he perceived at once the errand upon whichLord Rotherby was come to him, he went half-way to meet him. "Has yourlordship been contracting any marriages of late?" he inquired.
The viscount smiled icily. "You have quick wits, sir," said he, "whichis as it should be in one who lives by them."
"Let your lordship be thankful that such is not your own case," returnedMr. Caryll, with imperturbable good humor, and sent a titter round theroom.
"A hit! A shrewd hit, 'pon honor!" cried Wharton, tapping his snuff-box."I vow to Gad, Ye're undone, Charles. Ye'd better play at repartee withGascoigne, there. Ye're more of a weight."
"Your grace," cried Rotherby, suppressing at great cost his passion,"'tis not to be borne that a fellow of this condition should sit amongmen of quality." And with that he swung round and addressed the companyin general. "Gentlemen, do you know who this fellow is? He has theeffrontery to take my name, and call himself Caryll."
Mr. Caryll looked a moment at his brother in the silence that followed.Then, as in a flash, he saw his chance of vindicating Mistress Winthrop,and he seized it.
"And do you know, gentlemen, who this fellow is?" he inquired, with anair of sly amusement. "He is--Nay, you shall judge for yourselves. Youshall hear the story of how we met; it is the story of his abductionof a lady whose name need not be mentioned; the story of his dastardlyattempt to cozen her into a mock-marriage."
"Mock--mock-marriage?" cried the duke and a dozen others with him, somein surprise, but most in an unbelief that was already faintly tingedwith horror--which argued ill for my Lord Rotherby when the story shouldbe told.
"You damned rogue--" began his lordship, and would have flung himselfupon Caryll, but that Collis and Stapleton, and Wharton himself, putforth hands to stay him by main force.
Others, too, had risen. But Mr. Caryll sat quietly in his chair, idlyfingering the cards before him, and smiling gently, between amusementand irony. He was much mistaken if he did not make Lord Rotherbybitterly regret the initiative he had taken in their quarrel.
"Gently, my lord," the duke admonished the viscount. "This--thisgentleman has said that which touches your honor. He shall say more.He shall make good his words, or eat them. But the matter cannot restthus."
"It shall not, by God!" swore Rotherby, purple now. "It shall not. I'llkill him like a dog for what he has said."
"But before I die, gentlemen," said Mr. Caryll, "it were well that youshould have the full story of that sorry adventure from an eye-witness."
"An eye-witness? Were ye present?" cried two or
three in a breath.
"I desire to lay before you all the story of how we met my lord thereand I. It is so closely enmeshed with the story of that abductionand mock-marriage that the one is scarce to be distinguished from theother."
Rotherby writhed to shake off those who held him.
"Will ye listen to this fellow?" he roared. "He's a spy, I tell you--aJacobite spy!" He was beside himself with anger and apprehension, and henever paused to weigh the words he uttered. It was with him a questionof stopping his accuser's mouth with whatever mud came under his hands."He has no right here. It is not to be borne. I know not by what meanshe has thrust himself among you, but--"
"That is a knowledge I can afford your lordship," came Stapleton'ssteady voice to interrupt the speaker. "Mr. Caryll is here by myinvitation."
"And by mine and Gascoigne's here," added Sir Harry Collis, "and I willanswer for his quality to any man who doubts it."
Rotherby glared at Mr. Caryll's sponsors, struck dumb by this sudden andunexpected refutation of the charge he had leveled.
Wharton, who had stepped aside, knit his brows and flashed hisquizzing-glass--through sheer force of habit--upon Lord Rotherby. Then:
"You'll pardon me, Harry," said he, "but you'll see, I hope, thatthe question is not impertinent; that I put it to the end that we mayclearly know with whom we have to deal and what consideration toextend him, what credit to attach to the communication he is to makeus touching my lord here. Under what circumstances did you becomeacquainted with Mr. Caryll?"
"I have known him these twelve years," answered Collis promptly; "so hasStapleton, so has Gascoigne, so have a dozen other gentlemen who couldbe produced, and who, like ourselves, were at Oxford with him. Formyself and Stapleton, I can say that our acquaintance--indeed, I shouldsay our friendship--with Mr. Caryll has been continuous since then, andthat we have visited him on several occasions at his estate of Malignyin Normandy. That he habitually inhabits the country of his birth is thereason why Mr. Caryll has not hitherto had the advantage of your grace'sacquaintance. Need I say more to efface the false statement made by myLord Rotherby?"
"False? Do you dare give me the lie, sir?" roared Rotherby.
But the duke soothed him. Under his profligate exterior his Grace ofWharton concealed--indeed, wasted--a deal of shrewdness, ability andinherent strength. "One thing at a time, my lord," said the president ofthe Bold Bucks. "Let us attend to the matter of Mr. Caryll."
"Dons and the devil! Does your grace take sides with him?"
"I take no sides. But I owe it to myself--we all owe it toourselves--that this matter should be cleared."
Rotherby leered at him, his lip trembling with anger. "Does thepresident of the Bold Bucks pretend to administrate a court of honor?"he sneered heavily.
"Your lordship will gain little by this," Wharton admonished him, socoldly that Rotherby belatedly came to some portion of his senses again.The duke turned to Caryll. "Mr. Caryll," said he, "Sir Harry has givenyou very handsome credentials, which would seem to prove you worthy thehospitality of White's. You have, however, permitted yourself certainexpressions concerning his lordship here, which we cannot allow toremain where you have left them. You must retract, sir, or make themgood." His gravity, and the preciseness of his diction now, sorted mostoddly with his foppish airs.
Mr. Caryll closed his snuff-box with a snap. A hush fell instantly uponthe company, which by now was all crowding about the little table atwhich sat Mr. Caryll and his three friends. A footman who entered atthe moment to snuff the candles and see what the gentlemen might berequiring, was dismissed the room. When the door had closed, Mr. Caryllbegan to speak.
One more attempt was made by Rotherby to interfere, but this attempt wasdisposed of by Wharton, who had constituted himself entirely master ofthe proceedings.
"If you will not allow Mr. Caryll to speak, we shall infer that you fearwhat he may have to say; you will compel us to hear him in your absence,and I cannot think that you would prefer that, my lord."
My lord fell silent. He was breathing heavily, and his face was pale,his eyes angry beyond words, what time Mr. Caryll, in amiable, musicalvoice, with its precise and at moments slightly foreign enunciation,unfolded the shameful story of the affair at the "Adam and Eve," atMaidstone. He told a plain, straightforward tale, making little attemptto reproduce any of its color, giving his audience purely and simply thefacts that had taken place. He told how he himself had been chosen as awitness when my lord had heard that there was a traveller from Francein the house, and showed how that slight circumstance had first awakenedhis suspicions of foul play. He provoked some amusement when he dealtwith his detection and exposure of the sham parson. But in the main hewas heard with a stern and ominous attention--ominous for Lord Rotherby.
Rakes these men admittedly were with but few exceptions. No ordinarytale of gallantry could have shocked them, or provoked them to aught buta contemptuous mirth at the expense of the victim, male or female. Theywould have thought little the worse of a man for running off with thewife, say, of one of his acquaintance; they would have thought nothingof his running off with a sister or a daughter--so long as it was notof their own. All these were fair game, and if the husband, father orbrother could not protect the wife, sister or daughter that was his, themore shame to him. But though they might be fair game, the game had itsrules--anomalous as it may seem. These rules Lord Rotherby--if the taleMr. Caryll told was true--had violated. He had practiced a cheat, themore dastardly because the poor lady who had so narrowly escaped beinghis victim had nether father nor brother to avenge her. And in every eyethat was upon him Lord Rotherby might have read, had he had the wit todo so, the very sternest condemnation.
"A pretty story, as I've a soul!" was his grace's comment, when Mr.Caryll had done. "A pretty story, my Lord Rotherby. I have a stomach forstrong meat myself. But--odds my life!--this is too nauseous!"
Rotherby glared at him. "'Slife! your grace is grown very nice on asudden!" he sneered. "The president of the Bold Bucks, the master of theHell Fire Club, is most oddly squeamish where the diversions of anotherare concerned."
"Diversions?" said his grace, his eyebrows raised until they all butvanished under the golden curls of his peruke. "Diversions? Ha! Iobserve that you make no attempt to deny the story. You admit it, then?"
There was a stir in the group, a drawing back from his lordship. Heobserved it, trembling between chagrin and rage. "What's here?" hecried, and laughed contemptuously. "Oh, ah! You'll follow where hisgrace leads you! Ye've followed him so long in lewdness that now yellfollow him in conversion! But as for you, sir," and he swung fiercelyupon Caryll, "you and your precious story--will you maintain it sword inhand?"
"I can do better," answered Mr. Caryll, "if any doubts my word."
"As how?"
"I can prove it categorically, by witnesses."
"Well said, Caryll," Stapleton approved him.
"And if I say that you lie--you and your witnesses?"
"'T is you will be liar," said Mr. Caryll.
"Besides, it is a little late for that," cut in the duke.
"Your grace," cried Rotherby, "is this affair yours?"
"No, I thank Heaven!" said his grace, and sat down.
Rotherby scowled at the man who until ten minutes ago had been hisfriend and boon companion, and there was more of contempt than angerin his eyes. He turned again to Mr. Caryll, who was watching him with agleam of amusement--that infernally irritating amusement of his--in hisgray-green eyes.
"Well?" he demanded foolishly, "have you naught to say?"
"I had thought," returned Mr. Caryll, "that I had said enough." And theduke laughed aloud.
Rotherby's lip was curled. "Ha! You don't think, now, that you may havesaid too much?"
Mr. Caryll stifled a yawn. "Do you?" he inquired blandly.
"Ay, by God! Too much for a gentleman to leave unpunished."
"Possibly. But what gentleman is concerned in this?"
"I am!" thundered Rotherb
y.
"I see. And how do you conceive that you answer the description?"
Rotherby swore at him with great choice and variety. "You shall learn,"he promised him. "My friends shall wait on you to-night."
"I wonder who will carry his message?" ventured Collis to the ceiling.Rotherby turned on him, fierce as a rat. "It is a matter you maydiscover to your cost, Sir Harry," he snarled.
"I think," put in his grace very languidly, "that you are troubling theharmony that is wont to reign here."
His lordship stood still a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he snatchedup a candlestick to hurl at Mr. Caryll. But he had it wrenched from hishands ere he could launch it.
He stood a moment, discomfited, glowering upon his brother. "My friendsshall wait on you to-night," he repeated.
"You said so before," Mr. Caryll replied wearily. "I shall endeavor tomake them welcome."
His lordship nodded stupidly, and strode to the door. His departurewas observed in silence. On every face he read his sentence. Thesemen--rakes though they were, professedly--would own him no more fortheir associate; and what these men thought to-night not a gentleman intown but would be thinking the same tomorrow. He had the stupidityto lay it all to the score of Mr. Caryll, not perceiving that he hadbrought it upon himself by his own aggressiveness. He paused, his handupon the doorknob, and turned to loose a last shaft at them.
"As for you others, that follow your bell-wether there," and heindicated his grace, whose shoulder was towards him, "this matter endsnot here."
And with that general threat he passed out, and that snug room atWhite's knew him no more.
Major Gascoigne was gathering up the cards that had been flung down whenfirst the storm arose. Mr. Caryll bent to assist him. And the last voiceLord Rotherby heard as he departed was Mr. Caryll's, and the words ituttered were: "Come, Ned; the deal is with you."
His lordship swore through his teeth, and went downstairs heavily.