*CHAPTER XII.*
*TRIUMPH.*
Grey gazed at himself in astonishment. His fear of the eyes of quondamfriends vanished into thin air. Scarce would he have known himself.That others would know him, he could not believe. He had had no idea ofthe transforming properties of one of the great flowing wigs of theperiod; but when his own brown curls were covered and hidden beneaththis mass of perfumed hair, his brows darkened and the skin of his faceolive-tinted, his figure padded and arrayed in full military finery suchas the Duke of Marlborough was wont to wear, he could almost believethat he saw that great warrior before his eyes, so cunningly had theartificers wrought. He looked younger than the General, but that wasintended--an impersonation of youth and manly beauty and war-likeprowess. This was what the author of the interlude aimed at, and thisGrey looked to perfection, as he stood habited in the garments in whichhe was to appear before the public.
The Old Lion, himself transformed into an excellent presentment ofFather Time, stood gazing at the young man with glowing eyes, directingthe attendants to give a touch here or there to accentuate any point hewished brought out. Satisfaction beamed from every feature of his face.He seemed to see the town at his feet. In a week's time all Londonwould be ringing with the fame of Jonathan Wylde.
It was just the sort of artificial scene likely to catch the populartaste. There was a rage for semi-mythological representations--dryadsand nymphs and mermaids at the water theatre, Cupids and Psyches andheathen or classical deities at other places, whilst stilted and absurdallusions to Arcadian joys, nectar and ambrosia, spicy breezes ofPaphos, or Hymen's seductive temples, fell trippingly from the tonguesof every dandy with any claim to be a man of fashion, and were echoed insimpering accents by the ladies to whom this flowery nonsense wasaddressed.
The setting of the dramatic interlude had been carefully arranged.Father Time, with his flowing white beard, his scythe leaning againsthim, and his hour-glass at his feet, was seated aloft at one side of thestage overlooking a dim and vague expanse, which was supposed torepresent the earth. There was something very majestic in the aspect ofthe old actor, whose name many still remembered, and a burst of applausefollowed the rise of the curtain. Curiosity was raised to a high pitchby the gossip already excited in dramatic circles, and the house wascrowded to the ceiling with breathless and eager spectators.
The Old Lion delivered his harangue with all the fire and dignity forwhich his acting had been celebrated in past years. Seated upon histhrone, surveying, as it were, the world, the crippled limbs no longerhampered him. A few telling gestures of the brown and skinny hand, theplay of facial expression, the thunder or the melting pathos of his richvoice--these were all the aids he needed, and he used them withexcellent effect. The audience sat spellbound. The young bloods evenshrank and quailed and exchanged shamefaced glances as Father Timelaunched his thunders of scorn at the decadence of manhood, the decay ofall true chivalry, the gilded luxury, the senseless folly, the grossextravagance he beheld on all hands. Where were the men? he asked,pointing a long and skinny finger straight at the house filled tooverflowing with the fashion and wealth of the town. How did the youthof the great cities show their valour now? Why, by scouring the streetsat night, setting upon helpless citizens, using them shamefully, even toleaving them half dead, with eyes gouged out, in emulation of thebarbarous fashion of the Indian tribes, after which these gallants werenot ashamed to call themselves. In the past men had laid down theirlives to defend their country and the liberties of the subject; now theybanded together to maltreat the very men who were set to maintain lawand order. Of old, womanhood was sacred, and knights went forth to dodoughty deeds for the honour of their ladies, and for the upholding ofall the laws of chivalry, which they held dearer than life itself. Nowyoung gallants delighted to show their reverence for womanhood byrolling some hapless citizen's wife or daughter down a sloping street ina barrel, laughing the louder if she screamed piteously, or even swoonedwith fright.
Was there a man yet left in the land? Where was such to be found? Andtears streamed down the face of Father Time, as he made his moan,lamenting the days which had gone by, and fearing he would never see thelike again.
Then came a telling pause of deep silence. The applause, which hadbroken out once and again during the monologue, had been hushed intoshamed stillness at the last. Murmurs of sympathy and approval rosefrom the many present who hated and lamented the folly and extravagancesof the day, and delighted to hear them so tellingly and scathinglyreproved. Even the young bloods themselves could not but admire theskill and power of the speaker. They recognized the truth of theindictment, and felt a sense of shame and uneasiness which no preacherin the pulpit had ever aroused--perhaps because they so seldom went tolisten, and only stayed to mock.
And then the silence was as suddenly broken by a tumultuous burst ofamazed applause. A second figure had stepped upon the stage--tall,graceful, alert, instinct with strength and manly beauty; and athundering shout went up from all the house,--
"The Duke! The Duke!"
Paying no heed to the tumult of applause, the Youth went slowly forwardtowards the throne upon which sat Father Time, and to him he made a deepobeisance. Then amid the breathless hush of the house began theanimated dialogue betwixt the twain, wherein the Youth did strive toshow that manhood was not yet dead, and to call to the notice of FatherTime the things which he had seen, and which were yet taking place uponthe face of the globe.
Then after a good deal of discussion, in which telling phrases weredropped on both sides, which evoked roars of applause and approval, theyoung man was called upon to tell of those great acts of which he spoke.Whereupon came Grey's great speech, descriptive of the battle ofRamillies, and the superb generalship and dauntless personal courage ofEngland's great General.
The audience hung spellbound upon the words and gestures of the speaker.A breathless hush told of the effect produced. To those who had knownthe Duke, it seemed as though he himself were recounting the story ofhis victory. To those who had not, it was still a marvellous andsoul-stirring oration, as though the strictures lately passed uponmanhood by Father Time were in some sort swept away, and England'shonour vindicated by this young champion, who represented the nation'sidol.
The thing was an unqualified success. Behind the scenes the two actorswere received with warm congratulation scarcely tinged by jealousy. OldWylde was greeted by many a friend who had not troubled to recognize himduring his days of eclipse; and in addition to the ovations frommanagers and actors, scores of men, and even of fine ladies, crowdedround behind the scenes to shake hands with the heroes of the night, andsatisfy their curiosity by gazing at them at close quarters.
This part of the business was little to the taste of Grey, who desirednothing so little as any recognition by former acquaintances. He sawone or two faces that he knew, but no one came near him to whom heremembered having spoken in his past life. He retained his heavy wigand military dress as he talked with those pressing round him. But assoon as he was able he disengaged himself from the crowd, and ordering acoach to be called, he and his comrade drove home together, weary butexultant.
"I told you how it would be!" spoke the Old Lion, as they stood togetherin their upper chamber, smiling at the remembrance of the scene justpassed through. "I knew I had but to find the right man, and our fortunewould be made! You were fine, boy; you were fine! I had reckoned uponyou; yet one never knows how it will be till the moment comes. Some arestruck with stage-fright, and blunder and trip, till all illusionvanishes. Others mouth and strut through pure terror of the myriad eyesbent upon them, and bring down ridicule and contempt upon their heads.But I had confidence in you, and my confidence was not misplaced. Wehave taken the town by storm this night; and as we have begun, so shallit be to the end."
Certainly it seemed as though this prediction were to be fulfilled, forevery performance was crowded to the utmost limit of the tw
o theatres;and the extraordinary resemblance of the young actor--whose name wasquite unknown to the world--to the great Duke of Marlborough was thetalk of the whole town, and raised an immense curiosity, which spreadthrough all classes.
Grey called himself Edward White upon the playbills, and was thus knownto the theatre managers, who could give no information about the youngman save that he was a pupil of the old actor Wylde, who had written thepiece, and cast it especially for himself and his _protege_. When itwas urged that the young man must have known the Duke, else how could heso accurately reproduce his tricks of voice and speech and manner, theydrily shook their heads, saying that of his past history they wereignorant, but that as an actor they were satisfied with his capacity,and were struck by his similarity in figure and bearing to the greatGeneral.
The talk spread through the town, the theatres filled to overflowing,and crowds flocked behind the scenes nightly to get speech with thesuccessful actors.
It was perhaps a week after the first performance, and Grey was justmeditating the possibility of escape from the attentions of thefashionable mob, when a loud and resonant laugh broke upon his ear, andhis face flushed deeply beneath its olive tinting.
Lord Sandford made his way through the crowd about him, and in a momentthe two were face to face.
Grey had of set purpose taken up a station, according to his custom, ina place where the light was sufficiently bad. The passages and roomsbehind the scenes were never brilliantly illuminated, and the shadowsfell somewhat deeply upon his face; yet it seemed to him well-nighimpossible, as he looked full into the eyes of the man he had trusted,and who had failed him, that he should not at once be discovered.
But there was no trace of recognition in Lord Sandford's bold glance,though it rested upon his face with a shrewd curiosity.
"Good-even, sir. I have desired to see your performance ere this, buthave always been hindered. A fine piece of acting as ever I saw. Andyet your name is unknown to me, and I thought I knew every actor in thetown and in the country."
"It is my first appearance, your lordship," answered Grey in his stagevoice. "I owe my success to the kindliness of Mr. Wylde. I have had noprevious training. I have to thank the public for a very kindreception."
"No previous training for the boards? I can believe that, my friend.But I warrant me you have had previous acquaintance with the greatworld. You are no stranger to my lord of Marlborough--that I willwarrant."
"I did see him once, my lord; and there are some persons whom once tosee and hear is always to remember. The impression of a greatpersonality is not easily effaced."
Lord Sandford's bold eyes were roving over Grey's face and figure in away that was disconcerting, but he would not flinch or abase his gaze.He, at least had nothing of which to be ashamed.
"I have seen you before, Mr. White," he remarked suddenly; "I cannot yetsay where or when. But you have been in my company ere this. Say, isnot that true?"
"To have been in your lordship's company is surely no greatdistinction," answered Grey, with slightly veiled irony. "Is it notwell known that Lord Sandford goes everywhere, is seen everywhere, andkeeps company with all sorts and conditions of men?"
The young peer threw back his head and broke into a great laugh.
"Gadzooks, you have a ready tongue, my friend, and are not afraid to useit. Well, well, if you desire to tell me nothing, I will ask no more.Every man has a right to his own secret, though I make no pledge that Iwill not discover yours ere long. I have a mighty curiosity about somemen's affairs, which I will gratify at my pleasure."
"Was it a threat?" asked Grey of himself, "and had he any suspicion?"He scarce thought so. He would have seen a glint of recognition in hiseyes had he been known beneath his disguise. But he was glad when LordSandford turned away with another loud laugh, though his heart seemed tothrob with a painful intensity as he heard his loud voice speaking tohis companions,--
"Well, I must away to my Lord Romaine's house. My lady holds a routto-night, and will be ill pleased if I present not myself. The LadyGeraldine will expect to see me. We must not disappoint the prettybirds. Who is for the rout, and who to stay for what fare they give ushere?"
Grey turned away with his heart on fire. What meant that jestingallusion to the Lady Geraldine? Could it be that she had plighted hertroth to him? What else could he expect to hear than that she would obeythe wishes of her parents? If Lord Sandford were the husband chosen forher, how could she escape the fate of becoming his wife? Would she evendesire to escape it? How could a pure and innocent maiden know the sortof life which he had hitherto led?
Lady Romaine's rooms were full of gay company, and a clamour of laughterand chatter rose up in a never-ceasing hum. The card-tables werecrowded, and little piles of gold coins were constantly changing hands.Gay gallants fluttered hither and thither like great paintedbutterflies, first stopping before one fair lady and then hovering roundanother; taking snuff with one another; bandying jest or anecdote, quipor crank; putting their heads eagerly together over some bit of newscandal, and then going off in high glee to tell the news elsewhere.
There were a few grave politicians gathered together in one cornerdiscussing the affairs of the day--the successful campaign on theContinent, and the possibilities of an honourable peace. There werenone of the high Tories to be seen at Lord Romaine's house. He belongedto the Whig faction, and pinned his faith to Godolphin, whom he thoughtthe finest statesman of the day. He was on friendly terms with all themen of the so-called Whig junto, and Lord Halifax and Lord Sunderlandwere to be seen at his house to-night, foremost amongst those whopreferred quiet converse on weighty matters to the laughter and giddytalk in the larger rooms.
The Lady Geraldine had betaken herself to the inner apartment, where herfather was to be found in converse with his friends. It interested herfar more to listen to the topics of the day discussed by them than toreceive the vapourings of the gilded dandies, or to hear the chatter ofpainted dames. To her great relief Lord Sandford had not appeared atthe rout, and sincerely did she hope he would continue to absenthimself. Of late his attentions had become more pressing, and every dayshe feared to hear from her father that he had made formal applicationfor her hand, and had been accepted.
Geraldine did not want to marry him. From the first she had shrunk fromhis admiration, but had not been able to satisfy herself as to whethersuch shrinking were just or right. She knew her mother favoured him,and that her father thought he would rise to eminence if once he couldshake off the follies and extravagances of youth, and settle down towedded life with the woman of his choice. There was somethingattractive in his great strength, and in the manhood which was nevereclipsed even when he followed the fashion of the day in dress and talk.But whilst she was hesitating, something had come into her life whichseemed quite to have changed its current; and from that time forward shehad resolutely set herself against Lord Sandford's suit, and receivedhis attentions with a coldness and aloofness which whetted his desireand piqued his vanity as nothing else could have done.
There was one face for which Geraldine looked in vain, and had lookedfor many long weary weeks. Why she so desired to see that face, shecould scarce have told; yet thus it was. But it never came. She askedquestions now and again of some young beau who had lived in LordSandford's world; but it was little she could learn of what she so muchwished.
"Oh, Sir Grey and my Lord Sandford had a quarrel. None know the cause,but they say 'twas about a woman. I know naught of it. But they partedcompany; and belike he has gone off to the wars, for none of us have seteyes upon him since the day when he lost the race, and went near to losehis life."
"How was that?" Geraldine had asked with whitening lips.
Then she had heard, with sundry embellishments, the story of the race,and the suspicions which had been aroused as to whether or not a traphad been laid for the young baronet, into which he had fallen, and hadonly escaped severe injury by a happy chance.
Geraldi
ne's heart had been filled with horror.
"Think you that Lord Sandford had a hand in it?" had been her whisperedquestion, to which a careless laugh was the answer. She gathered frommore than one source that his companions believed Lord Sandford quitecapable of such a deed; for he had the reputation of being a man good asa friend, but bad to quarrel with, and absolutely unscrupulous when hispassions were roused. None would ever answer for what he might do.
A great horror had fallen upon Geraldine at hearing this tale--a horrorwhich haunted her still after all these weeks. She could not forget howLord Sandford had come upon her and Grey in the gardens of Vauxhall, andhow he had spoken in a stern voice, and had carried her off with an airof mastery that she had been unable to resist. And almost immediatelyafter this had come the quarrel--which men said was about a woman--andthe disappearance of Sir Grey Dumaresq from the world which had knownhim. Her heart often beat fast and painfully as she mused on thesethings. Had he not promised her to give up that idle life, that gamingand dissipation which in their hearts they both despised? And he hadkept his promise. He had broken loose from his fetters. He might nowbe living a life of honourable purpose elsewhere. But she had hoped tosee and know more of him. She had not thought of his exiling himselfaltogether. True, if Lord Sandford were his foe, and such a dangerousone to boot, it were better he should be far away. And yet she longedto see him again, to hear his voice, to know how it went with him.Oft-times in the midst of such gay scenes as the one before her eyes herthoughts would go roving back to that golden summer morning when he hadcome to her upon the shining river; and she would rehearse in her memoryevery word that had passed, whilst her eyes would grow dreamy, and herlips curve softly, and her whole face take an expression which wasexquisite in its tenderness and purity.
"Good-even, Lady Geraldine! I trust that your thoughts are with yourpoor servant now before you, who has been chafing in sore impatience atthe delay in presenting himself here."
She raised her eyes, and there was Lord Sandford standing before her;and they seemed almost alone, for no one was near, the group ofpoliticians having moved farther away towards the doorway commanding thelarger suite.
She rose and made him the sweeping curtsy of the day; but he possessedhimself of her hand, and carried it to his lips.
"I pray you treat me with none such ceremony, sweet lady. We may surelycall ourselves something more than acquaintances, after all that haspassed betwixt us. I may safely style myself your friend, I trow. Isit not so, Lady Geraldine?"
There was something almost compelling in the glance he bent upon her.There was a ring of mastery in his words, despite the gentleness hestrove to assume. She felt it, and she inwardly rebelled, although shegave no sign.
"Friendship, I trow, my lord, doth mean something very near and intimateand sacred. I scarce know myself at what point an acquaintance dothbecome a friend. I would that all true and noble-hearted men and womenwould honour me by their friendship, for I prize not any other."
He looked at her searchingly, wondering what she meant, and if she werelevelling any taunt at himself. The thought was like the sting of alash upon his skin, and a flush rose slowly to his brow, out his voicewas steady as he answered,--
"I care not how intimate and near and sacred such friendship be,provided it be vouchsafed to me, madam. I have not been thought bythose who know me to be a bad friend; but it would ill become me to singmine own praises to win the regard of the woman who is queen of myheart."
It was the first time he had spoken quite so openly, and Geraldine'sfair, pale face flushed beneath his ardent gaze. What she would haveanswered she never knew; he held her gaze almost as the snake holds thatof the bird it has in thrall. Yet, all the while, her heart wasrebelling fiercely, and her vague doubts and misgivings were changingrapidly into a very pronounced fear and distrust and loathing.
But ere she had time to think what she should say, or he to make furtherprotestations, a great rustling of silken skirts was heard, and inrushed Lady Romaine in a state of her usual artificial excitement andanimation.
"Ah, my lord, there you are! They did tell me you had come. And it issaid that you have been to see the representation of which all men aretalking--the dreadful old Father Time, who says such horrid things, butis put to shame by a wonderful youth who is as like the Duke ofMarlborough as though they were cast in the same mould. Tell me, isthis so? What is it like, this performance? I have been dying to seeit, yet never have done so. Tickets are scarce to be had--and such aprice! All the town is flocking. Tell us truly, is it such a wonderfulthing, or is it just something for empty heads to cackle over?"
"It is well enough," answered Lord Sandford carelessly, wishing theogling lady farther at this moment. "The acting is good, and the piecenot bad; there is power and wit in it, as all may hear, and it lacks notfor boldness neither. But 'tis the resemblance of the young actor tothe great Duke which is the attraction to the populace. I went to speakwith him after all was over, to see if the likeness was as great closeat hand as it seems on the stage."
"And is it so?" asked the lady breathlessly.
"No; the features in no way favour the Duke's, save that both arehandsome and regular. But the carriage, the action, the voice--theseare excellent. The fellow must have known his Grace in days gone by.But no man knows who he is nor whence he comes. He calls himself EdwardWhite; but none know if that be his name or not."
A sudden flush mounted to Geraldine's face, and faded, leaving hersnow-white. A thought had flashed into her mind; it set her heartbeating violently. White! How often had he said to her, "Would I werewhite as thou!" He had gifts; she had told him of them. He had seenand known the Duke, and was tall and comely to look upon; and she hadheard him speak with his voice and manner as he told her of theirmeeting. Everything seemed whirling in a mist about her. She wasrecalled to herself by hearing her mother exclaim, in her shrill, eagertones,--
"Then, by my troth, we will have them here, and see for ourselves whatthey can do, without the crowding we should suffer at the theatre. Wewill engage them for the first night they can come."