Beau Brocade: A Romance

  CHAPTER XI

  THE STRANGER'S NAME

  Mistress Betty was the first to recover from terror and surprise. Shetoo had fixed a pair of large and wondering eyes upon the stranger.

  "'Tis the gentleman who brought the letter from his lordship lastnight," she whispered to her mistress.

  Patience closed her eyes for a moment: her spirit, which had gonea-roaming into the land of dreams, where dwell heroes and proud knightsof old, came back to earth once more.

  "Then he must have guessed my brother was here," she murmured, "and didit to save him."

  But the tension being relaxed, already the bright and sunny nature,which appeared to be the chief characteristic of the stranger, quicklyre-asserted itself, and soon he was laughing merrily.

  "Oh! ho! gone, by my faith!" he said to John. "Odd's life! but heswallowed that, clean as a mullet after bait, eh, friend Stich?"

  It seemed as if he purposely avoided looking at Patience: perhaps, withthe innate delicacy of a kindly nature, he wished to give her time torecover her composure. But now she came forward, turning to him with agentle smile that had an infinity of pathos in it.

  "Sir," she said, "I would wish to thank you..."

  He put up his hand, with a gesture of self-deprecation.

  "To thank me, madam?" he said, with profound deference. "Nay! you dobut jest. I have done nothing to deserve so great a favour."

  He bowed to her with perfect courtly grace, but she would not begainsaid. She wished to think that he had acted thus for her.

  "Sir, you wrong your own most noble deed," she said. "Will you notallow me to keep the sweet illusion, that what you did just now, you didfrom the kindness of your heart, and because you saw that we were allanxious ... and that ... I was unhappy..."

  She looked divinely fair as she stood there beside him, with the rays ofthe slanting September sun touching the halo of her hair with a wand ofgold. Her voice was musical and low, and there was a catch in her throatas she held out one tiny, trembling hand to him.

  He took it in his own strong grasp, and kept it a prisoner therein forawhile, then he bent his slim young figure and touched her finger-tipswith his lips.

  "Faith, madam!" he said, "by that sweet illusion, an it dwell awhile inyour memory, I am more than repaid."

  In the meanwhile John had pushed open the small door which led to theinner shed.

  "Quite safe, my lord!" he shouted gaily, "only friends present."

  Brother and sister, regardless of all save their own joy in this avertedperil, were soon locked in each other's arms. Captain Bathurst hadheard her happy cry: "Philip!" had seen the look of gladness brightenher tear-dimmed eyes, and a curious feeling of wrath, which he could notexplain, caused him to turn away with a frown and a sigh.

  Patience was clinging to her brother, half hysterical, nervous, excited.

  "You are safe, dear," she murmured, touching with trembling motherlyhands the dear head so lately in peril, "quite safe ... let me feel yourprecious hands ... oh! it was so horrible! ... another moment and youwere discovered! ... Sir!" she added once more, turning to the strangerwith the sweet impulse of her gratitude, "my thanks just now must haveseemed so poor ... I was nervous and excited ... but see! here is onewho owes you his life, and who, I know, would wish to join his thanks tomine."

  But there was a change in his manner now. He bowed slightly before herand said very coldly,--

  "Nay, madam! let me assure you once again that I have done naught todeserve your thanks. John Stich is my friend, and he seemed in trouble... if I have had the honour to serve you at the same time, 'tis I whoshould render thanks."

  She sighed, somewhat disappointed at his coldness. But Philip, withboyish impulse, held out both hands to him.

  "Nay, sir," he said, "I know not who you are, but I heard everythingfrom behind that door, and I know that I owe you my life..."

  "I beg you, sir..."

  "Another moment and I had rushed out and sold my life dearly. Yournoble effort, sir, did more than save that life," he added, takingPatience's hand in his, "it spared a deep sorrow to one who isinfinitely dear to me ... my only sister."

  "Your ... your sister?"

  "Aye! my sister, Lady Patience Gascoyne, I am the Earl of Stretton,unjustly attainted by Act of Parliament. The life you have just saved,sir, is henceforth at your command."

  "Indeed, Philip," added Patience, gently, "we already are deeply in thisgentleman's debt. Betty, who saw him, tells me that it was he whobrought me your letter yester night."

  "You, sir!" exclaimed Stretton in profound astonishment, "then youare..."

  He paused instinctively, for he had remembered his conversation withJohn Stich earlier in the day; he remembered the anger, the wonder,which he had felt when the smith told him that he had entrusted theprecious letter for Lady Patience to Beau Brocade, the highwayman ...

  "Then you are...?" repeated Philip, mechanically.

  Patience was clinging to her brother, with her back towards thestranger, so she did not see the swift look of appeal the slender fingerput up in a mute, earnest prayer for silence. But now she turned andlooked inquiringly at him, her eyes asking for a name by which she couldremember him.

  "Captain Jack Bathurst," he said, bowing low, "at your command."