Richard Carvel — Complete

  CHAPTER XLI. THE WILDERNESS

  My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and presently I made outa bench ahead, with two black figures starting from it. One I shouldhave known on the banks of the Styx. From each came a separate oath as Istopped abreast them, and called the duke by name.

  "Mr. Carvel!" he cried; "what the devil do you here, sir?"

  "I am come to keep an appointment for Mr. Manners," I said. "May I speakto your Grace alone?"

  He made a peculiar sound by sucking in his breath, meant for a sneeringlaugh.

  "No," says he, "damned if you shall! I have nothing in common with you,sir. So love for Miss Manners has driven you mad, my young upstart. Andhe is not the first, Lewis."

  "Nor the last, by G--," says the captain.

  "I have a score to settle with you, d--n you!" cried Chartersea.

  "That is why I am here, your Grace," I replied; "only you have twistedthe words. There has been foul play enough. I have come to tell you," Icried, boiling with anger, "I have come to tell you there has been foulplay enough with a weakling that cannot protect himself, and to put anend to your blackmail."

  In the place of an oath, a hoarse laugh of derision came out of him. ButI was too angry then to note its significance. I slapped his face--nay,boxed it so that my palm stung. I heard his sword scraping out of thescabbard, and drew mine, stepping back to distance at the same instant.Then, with something of a shudder, I remembered young Atwater, and a 380brace of other instances of his villany. I looked for the captain. Hewas gone.

  Our blades, the duke's and mine, came together with a ring, and I feltthe strength of his wrist behind his, and of his short, powerful arm.The steel sung with our quick changes from 'quarte' to 'tierce'. 'Twasall by the feeling, without light to go by, and hatred between us leftlittle space for skill. Our lunges were furious. 'Twas not long beforeI felt his point at my chest, but his reach was scant. All at oncethe music swelled up voices and laughter were wafted faintly fromthe pleasure world of lights beyond. But my head was filled, to theexclusion of all else, with a hatred and fury. And (God forgive me!)from between my teeth came a prayer that if I might kill this monster, Iwould die willingly.

  Suddenly, as I pressed him, he shifted ground, and there was Lewisstanding within range of my eye. His hands were nowhere--they werebehind his back! God alone knows why he had not murdered me. To keepChartersea between him and me I swung another quarter. The duke seemedto see my game, struggled against it, tried to rush in under my guard,made a vicious lunge that would have ended me then and there had he notslipped. We were both panting like wild beasts. When next I raised myeyes Lewis had faded into the darkness. Then I felt my head as wet asfrom a plunge, the water running on my brow, and my back twitching.Every second I thought the sting of his sword was between my ribs. Butto forsake the duke would have been the maddest of follies.

  In that moment of agony came footsteps beating on the path, and by tacitconsent our swords were still. We listened.

  "Richard! Richard Carvel!"

  For the second time in my life I thanked Heaven for that brave and loyalEnglish heart. I called back, but my throat was dry and choked.

  "So they are at their d--d assassins' tricks again! You need have nofear of one murderer."

  With that their steels rang out behind me, like broadswords, Lewiswasting his breath in curses and blasphemies. I began to push Charterseawith all my might, and the wonder of it was that we did not fight withour fingers on each other's necks. His attacks, too, redoubled. TwiceI felt the stings of his point, once in the hand, and once in the body,but I minded them as little as pinpricks. I was sure I had touched him,too. I heard him blowing distressedly. The casks of wine he had drunkin his short life were telling now, and his thrusts grew weaker. Thatfiercest of all joys--of killing an enemy--was in me, when I heard a crythat rang in my ears for many a year afterward, and the thud of a bodyon the ground.

  "I have done for him, your Grace," says Lewis, with an oath; and addedimmediately, "I think I hear people."

  Before I had reached my Lord the captain repeated this, and excitedlybegged the duke, I believe, to fly. Chartersea hissed out that he wouldnot move a step until he had finished me, and as I bent over the bodyhis point popped through my coat, and the pain shot under my shoulder. Istaggered, and fell. A second of silence ensued, when the duke said witha laugh that was a cackle:

  "He won't marry her, d--n him!" (panting). "He had me cursed nearkilled, Lewis. Best give him another for luck."

  I felt his heavy hand on the sword, and it tearing out of me. Next camethe single word "Dover," and they were gone. I had not lost my senses,and was on my knees again immediately, ripping open Comyn's waistcoatwith my left hand, and murmuring his name in an agony of sorrow. I wassearching under his shirt, wet with blood, when I became aware of voicesat my side. "A duel! A murder! Call the warders! Warders, ho!"

  "A surgeon!" I cried. "A surgeon first of all!"

  Some one had wrenched a lamp from the Grand Walk and held it, flickeringin the wind, before his Lordship's face. Guided by its light, morepeople came running through the wood, then the warders with lanthorns,headed by Mr. Tyers, and on top of him Mr. Fitzpatrick and my LordCarlisle. We carried poor Jack to the house at the gate, and closed thedoors against the crowd.

  By the grace of Heaven Sir Charles Blicke was walking in the gardensthat night, and, battering at the door, was admitted along with theconstable and the watch. Assisted by a young apothecary, Sir Charleswashed and dressed the wound, which was in the left groin, and to ouranxious questions replied that there was a chance of recovery.

  "But you, too, are hurt, sir," he said, turning his clear eyes uponme. Indeed, the blood had been dripping from my hand and arm during thewhole of the operation, and I began to be weak from the loss of it. Bygreat good fortune Chartersea's thrust, which he thought had ended mylife, passed under my armpit from behind and, stitching the skin, lodgeddeep in my right nipple. This wound the surgeon bound carefully, andlikewise two smaller ones.

  The constable was for carrying me to the Marshalsea. And so I was forcedto tell that I had quarrelled with Chartersea; and the watch, goingout to the scene of the fight, discovered the duke's sword which hehad pulled out of me, and Lewis's laced hat; and also a trail of bloodleading from the spot. Mr. Tyers testified that he had seen Charterseathat night, and Lord Carlisle and Fitzpatrick to the grudge the dukebore me. I was given my liberty.

  Comyn was taken to his house in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, in SirCharles's coach, whither I insisted upon preceding him. 'Twas on the waythere that Fitzpatrick told me Dorothy had fainted when she heard thealarm--a piece of news which added to my anxiety. We called up thedowager countess, Comyn's mother, and Carlisle broke the news to her,mercifully lightening me of a share of the blame. Her Ladyship receivedthe tidings with great fortitude; and instead of the torrent ofreproaches I looked for, and deserved, she implored me to go home andcare for my injuries lest I get the fever. I believe that I burst intotears.

  His Lordship was carried up the stairs with never a word or a groan fromhis lips, and his heart beating out slowly.

  We reached my lodgings as the watchman was crying: "Past two o'clock,and a windy morning!"

  Mr. Fitzpatrick stayed with me that night. And the next morning, savefor the soreness of the cuts I had got, I found myself well as ever. Iwas again to thank the robustness of my health. Despite the protestsof Banks and Fitzpatrick, and of Mr. Fox (who arrived early, not havingbeen to bed at all), I jumped into a chaise and drove to Brook Street.There I had the good fortune to get the greatest load from my mind.Comyn was resting so much easier that the surgeon had left, and herLadyship retired two hours since.

  The day was misting and dark, but so vast was my relief that I imaginedthe sun was out as I rattled toward Arlington Street. If only Dolly werenot ill again from the shock, I should be happy indeed. She must haveheard, ere then, that I was not killed; and I had still better news totell her than that of Lord Comyn's conditi
on. Mr. Fox, who got everyrumour that ran, had shouted after me that the duke and Lewis were setout for France. How he knew I had not waited to inquire. But the reporttallied with my own surmise, for they had used the word "Dover" whenthey left us for dead in the Wilderness.

  I dismissed my chaise at the door.

  "Mr. Manners waits on you, sir, in the drawing-room," said the footman."Your honour is here sooner than he looked for," he added gratuitously.

  "Sooner than he looked for?"

  "Yes, sir. James is gone to you but quarter of an hour since with amessage, sir."

  I was puzzled.

  "And Miss Manners? Is she well?"

  The man smiled.

  "Very well, sir, thank your honour."

  To add to my surprise, Mr. Marmaduke was pacing the drawing-room in ayellow night-gown. He met me with an expression I failed to fathom, andthen my eye was held by a letter in his hand. He cleared his throat.

  "Good morning, Richard," said he, very serious,--very pompous, Ithought. "I am pleased to see that you are so well out of the deplorableaffair of last night."

  I had not looked for gratitude. In truth, I had done nothing for him,and Chartersea might have exposed him a highwayman for all I cared,--Ihad fought for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about tomake a tart reply, and then thought better of it.

  "Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel," says he to the footman.Then to me: "I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger."

  I merely stared at him.

  "Will you sit?" he continued. "To speak truth, the Annapolis packet camein last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time tohear from Maryland, I sent for you."

  My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning fromthis introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him forsending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leavemy bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair.

  "You have heard from Maryland?" I cried. "Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tellme, is Mr. Carvel dead?" And I clutched his arm to make him wince.

  He nodded, and turned away. "My dear old friend is no more," he said."Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month."

  I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollectionsoverwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind.One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, Ihad missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton broughtthe tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive hislast words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow.Who had he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? Theimagination of that scene drove me mad.

  Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quicklythat I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I todie to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it thesmile which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, therewas in it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act.

  "There is more, Richard," he was saying; "there is worse to come. Canyou bear it?"

  His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short oftemper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And nowall my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined hismeaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father.

  "Worse?" I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. "Do you mean thatGrafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?"

  "Yes," he gasped, "yes. I pray you be calm."

  "And you call that worse than losing my dearest friend on earth?" Icried. There must have been an infinite scorn in my voice. "Then yourstandards and mine are different, Mr. Manners. Your ways and mine aredifferent, and I thank God for it. You have played more than one doublepart with me. You looked me in the face and denied me, and left me to goto a prison. I shall not repeat my grandfather's kindnesses to you, sir.Though you may not recall them, I do. And if your treatment of me wasknown in Maryland, you would be drummed out of the colony even as Mr.Hood was, and hung in effigy"

  "As God hears me, Richard--"

  "Do not add perjury to it," I said. "And have no uneasiness that I shallpublish you. Your wife and daughter have saved you before,--they willsave you now."

  I paused, struck speechless by a suspicion that suddenly flashed into myhead. A glance at the contemptible form cowering within the folds of theflowered gown clinched it to a conviction. In two strides I had seizedhim by the skin over his ribs, and he shrieked with pain and fright.

  "You--you snake!" I cried, in uncontrollable anger. "You well knewDorothy's spirit, which she has not got from you, and you lied to her.Yes, lied, I say. To force her to marry Chartersea you made her believethat your precious honour was in danger. And you lied to me last night,and sent me in the dark to fight two of the most treacherous villains inEngland. You wish they had killed me. The plot was between you and hisGrace. You, who have not a cat's courage, commit an indiscretion! Younever made one in your life, Tell me," I cried, shaking him until histeeth smote together, "was it not put up between you?"

  "Let me go! Let me go, and I will tell!" he wailed in the agony of mygrip. I tightened it the more.

  "You shall confess it first," I said, from between my teeth.

  Scarce had his lips formed the word yes, when I had flung him halfacross the room. He tripped on his gown, and fell sprawling on hishands. So the servant found us when he came back with the tray. Thelackey went out again hastily.

  "My God!" I exclaimed, in bitterness and disgust; "you are a father, andwould sell both your daughter and your honour for a title, and to thefilthiest wretch in the kingdom?"

  Without bestowing upon him another look, I turned on my heel and leftthe room. I had set my foot on the stair, when I heard the rustle of adress, and the low voice which I knew so well calling my name.

  "Richard."

  There at my side was Dorothy, even taller in her paleness, with sorrowand agitation in her blue eyes.

  "Richard, I have heard all.--I listened. Are you going away without aword for me?" Her breath came fast, and mine, as she laid a hand uponmy arm. "Richard, I do not care whether you are poor. What am I saying?"she cried wildly. "Am I false to my own father? Richard, what have youdone?"

  And then, while I stood dazed, she tore open her gown, and drawing fortha little gold locket, pressed it in my palm. "The flowers you gave meon your birthday,--the lilies of the valley, do you remember? They arehere, Richard. I have worn them upon my heart ever since."

  I raised the locket to my lips.

  "I shall treasure it for your sake, Dorothy," I said, "for the sake ofthe old days. God keep you!"

  For a moment I looked into the depths of her eyes. Then she was gone,and I went down the stairs alone. Outside, the rain fell unheeded onmy new coat. My steps bent southward, past Whitehall, where the martyrCharles had met death so nobly: past the stairs to the river, where shehad tripped with me so gayly not a month since. Death was in my soulthat day,--death and love, which is the mystery of life. God guided meinto the great Abbey near by, where I fell on my knees before Him andbefore England's dead. He had raised them and cast them down, even as Hewas casting me, that I might come to know the glory of His holy name.

  Volume 7.