Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  CHARLES'S RETREAT UPON LONDON.

  Passing out of the park, Charles set down his burden at the door of asmall farm-house at the further end of the village, and knocked. Forsome time he stood waiting for an answer, and heard no sound save thecows and horses moving about in the warm straw-yard. The beasts were intheir home. No terrible new morrow for them. He was without in thestreet; his home irrevocable miles behind him; still not a thought offlinching or turning back. He knocked again.

  The door was unbarred. An old man looked out, and recognised him withwild astonishment.

  "Mr. Charles! Good lord-a-mercy! My dear tender heart, what be doing outat this time a-night? With his portmantle, too, and his carpet-bag! Comein, my dear soul, come in. An' so pale and wild! Why, you'm overlooked,Master Charles."

  "No, Master Lee, I ain't overlooked. At least not that I know of----"

  The old man shook his head, and reserved his opinion.

  "----But I want your gig to go to Stonnington."

  "To-night?"

  "Ay, to-night. The coach goes at eight in the morning; I want to bethere before that."

  "Why do'ee start so soon? They'll be all abed in the Chichester Arms."

  "I know. I shall get into the stable. I don't know where I shall get. Imust go. There is trouble at the Hall."

  "Ay! ay! I thought as much, and you'm going away into the world?"

  "Yes."

  The old man said, "Ay! ay!" again, and turned to go upstairs. Then heheld his candle over his head, and looked at Charles; and then wentupstairs muttering to himself.

  Presently was aroused from sleep a young Devonshire giant, halfHercules, half Antinous, who lumbered down the stairs, and into theroom, and made his obeisance to Charles with an air of wonder in hisgreat sleepy black eyes, and departed to get the gig.

  Of course his first point was Ranford. He got there in the afternoon. Hehad in his mind at this time, he thinks (for he does not remember it allvery distinctly), the idea of going to Australia. He had an idea, too,of being eminently practical and business-like; and so he did a thingwhich may appear to be trifling, but which was important--one cannot sayhow much so. He asked for Lord Ascot instead of Lady Ascot.

  Lord Ascot was in the library. Charles was shown in to him. He wassitting before the fire, reading a novel. He looked very worn andanxious, and jumped up nervously when Charles was announced. He droppedhis book on the floor, and came forward to him, holding out his righthand.

  "Charles," he said, "you will forgive me any participation in this. Iswear to you----"

  Charles thought that by some means the news of what had happened atRavenshoe had come before him, and that Lord Ascot knew all about FatherMackworth's discovery. Lord Ascot was thinking about Adelaide's flight;so they were at cross purposes.

  "Dear Lord Ascot," said Charles, "how could I think of blaming you, mykind old friend?"

  "It is devilish gentlemanly of you to speak so, Charles," said LordAscot. "I am worn to death about that horse, Haphazard, and otherthings; and this has finished me. I have been reading a novel todistract my mind. I must win the Derby, you know; by Gad, I must."

  "Whom have you got, Lord Ascot?"

  "Wells."

  "You couldn't do better, I suppose?"

  "I suppose not. You don't know--I'd rather not talk any more about it,Charles."

  "Lord Ascot, this is, as you may well guess, the last time I shall eversee you. I want you to do me a favour."

  "I will do it, my dear Charles, with the greatest pleasure. Anyreparation----"

  "Hush, my lord! I only want a certificate. Will you read this which Ihave written in pencil, and, if you conscientiously can, copy in yourown hand, and sign it. Also, if I send to you a reference, will youconfirm it?"

  Lord Ascot read what Charles had written, and said--

  "Yes, certainly. You are going to change your name then?"

  "I must bear that name, now; I am going abroad."

  Lord Ascot wrote--

  "The undermentioned Charles Horton I have known ever since he was a boy. His character is beyond praise in every way. He is a singularly bold and dexterous rider, and is thoroughly up to the management of horses.

  "ASCOT."

  "You have improved upon my text, Lord Ascot," said Charles. "It is likeyour kindheartedness. The mouse may offer to help the lion, my lord;and, although the lion may know how little likely it is that he shouldrequire help, yet he may take it as a sign of goodwill on the part ofthe poor mouse. Now good-bye, my lord; I must see Lady Ascot, and thenbe off."

  Lord Ascot wished him kindly good-bye, and took up his novel again.Charles went alone up to Lady Ascot's room.

  He knocked at the door, and received no answer; so he went in. LadyAscot was there, although she had not answered him. She was sittingupright by the fire, staring at the door, with her hands folded on herlap. A fine brave-looking old lady at all times, but just now, Charlesthought, with that sweet look of pity showing itself principally aboutthe corners of the gentle old mouth, more noble-looking than ever!

  "May I come in, Lady Ascot?" said Charles.

  "My dearest own boy! You must come in and sit down. You must be veryquiet over it. Try not to make a scene, my dear. I am not strong enough.It has shaken me so terribly. I heard you had come, and were with Ascot.And I have been trembling in every limb. Not from terror so much of youin your anger, as because my conscience is not clear. I may have hiddenthings from you, Charles, which you ought to have known." And Lady Ascotbegan crying silently.

  Charles felt the blood going from his cheeks to his heart. His interviewwith Lord Ascot had made him suspect something further was wrong thanwhat he knew of, and his suspicions were getting stronger every moment.He sat down quite quietly, looking at Lady Ascot, and spoke not oneword. Lady Ascot, wiping her eyes, went on; and Charles's heart began tobeat with a dull heavy pulsation, like the feet of those who carry acoffin.

  "I ought to have told you what was going on between them before she wentto old Lady Hainault. I ought to have told you of what went on beforeLord Hainault was married. I can never forgive myself, Charles. You mayupbraid me, and I will sit here and make not one excuse. But I must saythat I never for one moment thought that she was anything more thanlight-headed. I,--oh Lord! I never dreamt it would have come to this."

  "Are you speaking of Adelaide, Lady Ascot?" said Charles.

  "Of course I am," she said, almost peevishly. "If I had ever----"

  "Lady Ascot," said Charles, quietly, "you are evidently speaking ofsomething of which I have not heard. What has Adelaide done?"

  The old lady clasped her hands above her head. "Oh, weary, weary day!And I thought that he had heard it all, and that the blow was broken.The cowards! they have left it to a poor old woman to tell him at last."

  "Dear Lady Ascot, you evidently have not heard of what a terrible fatehas befallen me. I am a ruined man, and I am very patient. I had onehope left in the world, and I fear that you are going to cut it awayfrom me. I am very quiet, and will make no scene; only tell me what hashappened."

  "Adelaide!--be proud, Charles, be angry, furious--you Ravenshoescan!--be a man, but don't look like that. Adelaide, dead to honour andgood fame, has gone off with Welter!"

  Charles walked towards the door.

  "That is enough. Please let me go. I can't stand any more at present.You have been very kind to me and to her, and I thank you and bless youfor it. The son of a bastard blesses you for it. Let me go--let me go!"

  Lady Ascot had stepped actively to the door, and had laid one hand onthe door, and one on his breast. "You shall not go," she said, "till youhave told me what you mean!"

  "How? I cannot stand any more at present."

  "What do you mean by being the son of a bastard?"

  "I am the son of James, Mr. Ravenshoe's keeper. He was the illegitimateson of Mr. Petre Ravenshoe."

  "Who told you this?" said Lady Ascot.

  "Cuthbert."
br />   "How did he know it!"

  Charles told her all.

  "So the priest has found that out, eh?" said Lady Ascot. "It seemstrue;" and, as she said so, she moved back from the door. "Go to yourold bedroom, Charles. It will always be ready for you while this houseis a house. And come down to me presently. Where is Lord Saltire?"

  "At Lord Segur's."

  Charles went out of the room, and out of the house, and was seen nomore. Lady Ascot sat down by the fire again.

  "The one blow has softened the other," she said. "I will never keepanother secret after this. It was for Alicia's sake and for Petre's thatI did it, and now see what has become of it. I shall send for LordSaltire. The boy must have his rights, and shall, too."

  So the brave old woman sat down and wrote to Lord Saltire. We shall seewhat she wrote to him in the proper place--not now. She sat calmly andmethodically writing, with her kind old face wreathing into a smile asshe went on. And Charles, the madman, left the house, and posted off toLondon, only intent on seeking to lose himself among the sordid crowd,so that no man he had ever called a friend should set eyes on himagain.