CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR

  The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still uponmy back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seenhim again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who drifttogether to part. And he left me that sword with the jewelled hilt, thathangs above my study fire, which he had bought in Toledo. He told methat he was heartily sick of the navy; that he had entered only inrespect for a wish of his father's, the late Admiral Lord Comyn, andthat the Thunderer was to sail for New York, where he looked for arelease from his commission, and whence he would return to England. Hewould carry any messages to Miss Manners that I chose to send. ButI could think of none, save to beg him to remind her that she wasconstantly in my thoughts. He promised me, roguishly enough, that hewould have thought of a better than that by the time he sighted CapeClear. And were I ever to come to London he would put me up at Brooks'sClub, and warrant me a better time and more friends than ever had aCaribbee who came home on a visit.

  My grandfather kept his word in regard to Mr. Allen, and on Sundaycommanded the coach at eight. We drove over bad roads to the church atSouth River. And he afterwards declined the voluntary aid he hithertohad been used to give to St. Anne's. In the meantime, good Mr. Swain hadcalled again, bringing some jelly and cake of Patty's own making; anda letter writ out of the sincerity of her heart, full of tender concernand of penitence. She would never cease to blame herself for the wrongshe now knew she had done me.

  Though still somewhat weak from my wound and confinement, after dinnerthat Sunday I repaired to Gloucester Street. From the window she sawme coming, and, bare-headed, ran out in the cold to meet me. Her eyesrested first on the linen around my throat, and she seemed all in a fireof anxiety.

  "I had thought you would come to-day, when I heard you had been to SouthRiver," she said.

  I was struck all of a sudden with her looks. Her face was pale, and Isaw that she had suffered as much again as I. Troubled, I followed herinto the little library. The day was fading fast, and the leaping flamesbehind the andirons threw fantastic shadows across the beams of theceiling. We sat together in the deep window.

  "And you have forgiven me, Richard?" she asked.

  "An hundred times," I replied. "I deserved all I got, and more."

  "If I had not wronged and insulted you--"

  "You did neither, Patty," I broke in; "I have played a double part forthe first and last time in my life, and I have been justly punished forit."

  "'Twas I sent you to the Coffee House," she cried, "where you might havebeen killed. How I despise myself for listening to Mr. Allen's tales!"

  "Then it was Mr. Allen!" I exclaimed, fetching a long breath.

  "Yes, yes; I will tell you all."

  "No," said I, alarmed at her agitation; "another time."

  "I must," she answered more calmly; "it has burned me enough. You recallthat we were at supper together, with Betty Tayloe and Lord Comyn,and how merry we were, altho' 'twas nothing but 'Dorothy' with yougentlemen. Then you left me. Afterwards, as I was talking with Mr.Singleton, the rector came up. I never have liked the man, Richard, butI little knew his character. He began by twitting me for a Whig, andpresently he said: 'But we have gained one convert, Miss Swain, who seesthe error of his ways. Scarce a year since young Richard Carvel promisedto be one of those with whom his Majesty will have to reckon. And heis now become,'--laughing,--'the King's most loyal and devoted.' I wasbeside myself. 'That is no subject for jest, Mr. Allen,' I cried; Iwill never believe it of him!' 'Jest!' said he; I give you my word I wasnever soberer in my life.' Then it all came to me of a sudden that yousat no longer by the hour with my father, as you used, and you denouncedthe King's measures and ministers no more. My father had spoken of it.'Tell me why he has changed?' I asked, faltering with doubt of you,which I never before had felt. 'Indeed, I know not,' replied the rector,with his most cynical smile; unless it is because old Mr. Carvel mightdisinherit a Whig. But I see you doubt my word, Miss Swain. Here is Mr.Carroll, and you may ask him.' God forgive me, Richard! I stopped Mr.Carroll, who seemed mightily surprised. And he told me yes, that yourgrandfather had said but a few days before, and with joy, that you werenow of his Majesty's party."

  "Alas! I might have foreseen this consequence," I exclaimed. "Nor do Iblame you, Patty."

  "But my father has explained all," Patty continued, brightening. "Hisadmiration for you is increased tenfold, Richard. Your grandfather toldhim of the rector's treachery, which he says is sufficient to make himturn Methodist or Lutheran. We went to the curate's service to-day.And--will you hear more, sir? Or do your ears burn? That patriots andloyalists are singing your praises from Town Gate to the dock, andregretting that you did not kill that detestable Captain Collinson--butI have something else, and of more importance, to tell you, Richard,"she continued, lowering her voice.

  "What Mr. Carroll had told me stunned me like a blow, such had been myfaith in you. And when Mr. Allen moved off, I stood talking toPercy Singleton and his Lordship without understanding a word of theconversation. I could scarce have been in my right mind. It was not yourgoing over to the other side that pained me so, for all your people areTories. But I had rather seen you dead than a pretender and a hypocrite,selling yourself for an inheritance. Then you came. My natural impulseshould have been to draw you aside and there accuse you. But this wasbeyond my strength. And when I saw you go away without a word I knewthat I had been unjust. I could have wept before them all. Mr. Carrollwent for his coach, and was a full half an hour in getting it. But thisis what I would tell you in particular, Richard. I have not spoken of itto a soul, and it troubles me above all else: While Maria was getting mycardinal I heard voices on the other side of the dressing-room door. Thesupper-room is next, you know. I listened, and recognized the rector'sdeep tones: 'He has gone to the Coffee House,' he was saying; Collinsondeclares that his Lordship is our man, if we can but contrive it. He isthe best foil in the service, and was taught by--there! I have forgotthe name."

  "Angelo!" I cried.

  "Yes, yes, Angelo it was. How did you know?" she demanded, rising in herexcitement.

  "Angelo is the great fencing-master of London," I replied.

  "When I heard that," she said, "I had no doubt of your innocence. I ranout into the assembly room as I was, in my hood, and tried to find Tom.But he--" She paused, ashamed.

  "Yes, I know," I said hurriedly; "you could not find him."

  She glanced at me in gratitude.

  "How everybody stared at me! But little I cared! 'Twas that gave rise toMr. Green's report. I thought of Percy Singleton, and stopped him in themidst of a dance to bid him run as fast as his legs would carry him tothe Coffee House, and to see that no harm befell you. 'I shall hold youresponsible for Richard,' I whispered. 'You must get him away from Mr.Claude's, or I shall never speak to you again.' He did not wait to askquestions, but went at once, like the good fellow he is. Then I rodehome with Maria. I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though hebegged hard. Father was in here, writing his brief. But I was all inpieces, Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him nomore than that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant todraw you into a duel. He took me up to my own room, and I heard himgoing out to wake Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving awayin our coach. I hope I may never in my life spend such another hour as Ipassed then."

  The light in the sky had gone out. I looked up at the girl before me asshe stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, herlips parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her figuresoftened. I wondered why I had never before known her beauty. Perchanceit was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart.

  I leaped to my feet and seized her hands. For a second she looked at me,startled. Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair inthe corner.

  "Richard, Richard!" she exclaimed. "Did Dorothy but know!"

  "Dorothy is occupied with titles," I said.

/>   Patty's lip quivered. And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I hadhurt her.

  "Oh, you wrong her!" she cried; "believe me when I say that she lovesyou, and you only, Richard."

  "Loves me!" I retorted bitterly,--brutally, I fear. "No. She may haveonce, long ago. But now her head is turned."

  "She loves you now," answered Patty, earnestly; "and I think ever will,if you but deserve her."

  And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexityand consternation.