*CHAPTER XV.*
*DARK DAYS.*
For above a fortnight things went very strangely for Grey in that upperroom which had been for so long his home. The Old Lion was veryill--dangerously ill for many days; and though the leech was called inseveral times, and sometimes gave a medicine which brought relief, itwas little his skill availed, and the tender nursing of the young manwas undoubtedly the means under Providence whereby the sick man's lifewas saved.
But Grey himself was suffering from severe prostration, from anintermittent fever, and from much pain from his burns, which were slowto heal and made his task of nursing very difficult.
Nevertheless he would let no one else rob him of this labour of love;for none could soothe the sick man as he could, and if left to othercare, he always became restless and feverish.
As for the world without, that was altogether blotted out from Grey'sthoughts. He never even heard of the return of the Duke of Marlboroughfrom his glorious campaign of victory; he never knew of the grandprocession through the streets from Whitehall to Guildhall, and thenceto the Vintners' Hall, where the victor of Ramillies was feasted by thecivic authorities, after the standards taken at the great battle hadbeen flaunted through the streets and acclaimed by a huge andenthusiastic crowd.
All this, if he heard rumour of it, passed through his brain unheeded.He did not even know that the Duke attended a performance at Drury Laneof "Time and the Youth," and laughed and applauded the representation,in which so much subtle flattery had been introduced. Always eager forpopular applause, the Duke was not a little delighted by the ovation hereceived in his own person, and in the words of the interlude itself,which were cheered to the echo by a house crowded to suffocation.Afterwards the actors were summoned before him, and each received apurse of gold from the hands of the Duchess. And she told the Duke howthat the young actor had been so brave and prompt in the saving of thelife of her favourite, Lady Geraldine, at the private performance of thepiece a short while back. So great a lady as the Duchess could not beexpected to note any difference in the actors of the interlude, and noneexplained her error, for what did it matter? Anthony Frewen and LionelField were drawing just as well as the original pair had done, since theenthusiasm for the Duke was increasing with his presence in England.They asked lower terms for their services, and they gave none of thetrouble that the Old Lion had done by his autocratic demands and hishasty temper. The managers of both theatres were well content withmatters as they were, and congratulated themselves that nothing more hadbeen heard of their former employes. Wylde's uncertain health wouldrender his re-engagement a matter of some difficulty, if not ofimpossibility; and Anthony Frewen had openly declared that he would actonly with Field. They had studied together. They understood eachother, and they wanted no "interloper" coming between them.
This was in substance what Grey heard when, after three weeks of anxietyand watching, he found that their exchequer was almost empty, andrealized that he must bestir himself again to earn the needful weeklysum to enable them to live comfortably, and provide the wherewithal forthe sick man's needs. His hands were now almost well. He had discardedhis sling and could use his arm freely. The fever had left him somewhatweak, but he believed he had power to take his part without any fear offailure, and he sought out the friendly stage-manager, Mr. Butler, totell him as much. Little did he anticipate the answer he received.
The matter was fully and kindly explained; but there seemed nohesitation about the decision.
"I am sorry--very sorry--Mr. White. But what are we to do? Frewen andField are both old stage favourites. Their return has been hailed withapproval in many quarters. They have acted all this time together, andFrewen declines to act with any other. It is possible that he fears inyou a rival; for there is a dash and a divine afflatus (if I may use thephrase) in your acting which is lacking in that of Field. Talent isalways ready to be jealous of genius. It may be that the matter lies inthat nutshell. However this may be, these are the facts. These two meanto do well; they refuse to be separated, and therefore--"
"I understand," answered Grey quietly. "It is quite right, I suppose.For myself I care little, but for Mr. Wylde I have my regrets. Afterall, it is his piece that is filling your pockets. Has he no claim uponyou for that? I know not what the law may be; but can you suffer him tobe in want whilst his genius is bringing you such success?"
"Well, well, well, we will see what we can do. I am sorry, very sorry,that you ever gave up your part. Oh, I know it was inevitable. Youwere not able for it; and you showed magnanimity in your instruction ofanother. But it was a mistake on your own part--the countryman and theviper--did I not warn you? A man of more worldly wisdom would have donedifferently."
"If you will only see that Mr. Wylde lacks not for the necessaries oflife, I care nothing for my own loss," answered Grey with perfecttruthfulness. "I am young and strong; I have the world before me. Butwhilst he is ill I cannot leave him; and if I lose my post here, how canI hope to support him through the bitter winter now upon us? I can facedestitution for myself, but it were shame to let him suffer."
"Well, well, he shall not starve; we will do something for him. Ipromise you that. But it was a thousand pities that you did not receivethe purse of gold from the hands of the Duchess last week. That wouldhave set you on your feet for some time to come; and, after all, it wasfor you it was really meant. Field should be made to divide it."
"No, no," answered Grey, with sudden haste and imperiousness; "I touchno gold that I do not earn." And when he heard the story of theperformance at which the Duke had been present, he rejoiced greatly thathe had not played the "Youth" that night. He felt as though the eagleeyes of the Duke would have penetrated his disguise; and how could hehave met the victor of Ramillies again in the garb of an actor, winninghis bread on the London boards?
There was a curious strain of pride in the young man's nature. Althoughhis short dramatic career had been so successful, he shrank with thedeepest distaste from recognition by any of his former friends. He hatedthe very thought that the name of Grey Dumaresq should be linked withthat of the actor of the "Youth."
In the same way he had always abstained from making any use of the tokenof favour bestowed upon him by the Duke of Marlborough as a pledge offriendship. He always carried the ring about his person, hung round hisneck by a silken cord. But although he knew it would win for him thepatronage of the great Duchess, whose influence with the Queen, if notthe paramount power it once was, was still very great, he had never beenable to make up his mind to use it. He had not learned how to presenthimself as a suppliant for favour. He felt that he had talent. Hedesired to see that talent recognized and rewarded. But to go aboutseeking for a patron to push him into notice was a thing he had neverbrought himself to do. Whilst living with the Old Lion he had rewrittenhis romance, and had made of it a very delicate piece of workmanship,which might well win him fame if he could but get it taken up. Buthitherto he had been too busy to think much about the matter. Theromance must wait his greater leisure. Now, however, turning away fromthe theatre feeling very certain that his dramatic career had closed assuddenly as it had opened, he began to realize that something must bedone to keep the wolf from the door; and his thoughts instinctivelyturned to his pen with a certain joy and pride. For therein lay morereal delight to him than in the plaudits of assembled crowds. If hecould win fame in the realms of literature, he would with joy sayfarewell to his brief career as actor.
Walking thoughtfully along, he almost ran into two men who werestrolling arm in arm along the pavement. Stopping short from the recoil,he looked at them, and saw that they were Anthony Frewen and LionelField--the very two whose amicable partnership had ousted him from hishoped-for employment. But there was no rancour in Grey's heart. Alreadyhis facile and eager mind had turned to other themes. He would have heldout his hand in fellowship to his quondam pupil; but the young actor'sface had
suddenly flushed a deep crimson, and he pulled his companiondown a side alley, laughing loudly, and affecting not to have seen theother. Plainly, he feared reproaches and recriminations, and was stungby the goad of an uneasy conscience.
Grey smiled a little as he pursued his way.
"It is something strange," he mused, "how that a man can never forgiveone whom he has injured! Had I supplanted him, he might have swaggeredup to demand explanation or redress, and we might even have made it upagain; but since he has injured me, he will have none of it. I amhenceforth to him an outcast."
Grey was not disposed at once to return home, to encounter the keen eyesand perhaps the burst of righteous indignation which no doubt his newswould awaken within the breast of the Old Lion. That Wylde had had somefears of what the event had justified, Grey was aware. He knew theemulations, jealousies, and small cabals of the theatre, and how a youngactor, raised by lucky chance to a post of eminence, is suspected andplotted against by others as an interloper. His own reputation andGrey's brilliant success had served them in good stead so long as he wasable to retain his own place; but now that his influence was withdrawn,and Grey had shown himself not indispensable, the thing which he foresawhad come to pass; and the young man regretted it more for his master'ssake than for his own, save for the immediate difficulty of seeing wherethe daily necessities of life were to come from.
But at least he had obtained a promise that something should be done forthe old man, and he could surely fend for himself.
He was walking northward along the frost-bound road. A spell of bitterweather had succeeded the torrents of rain which had characterized theearlier part of the winter. Icicles hung from the eaves, and the waterwas frozen in the gutters and puddles. The sun hung like a red ball inthe clear frosty sky, and there was a biting keenness in the air whichmade rapid motion a necessity.
Grey was not depressed, though he was grave and thoughtful. He walkedon rapidly, one thought chasing another through his brain. Had it notbeen for the necessity of taking care of his old friend, he would haveliked well enough to walk all the way to Hartsbourne, to see old Jockand faithful Dick, from whom the recent almost impassable state of theroads had sundered him. During the days of his extreme poverty Grey hadhidden himself even from Dick. But with brighter times he had written tohis faithful henchman; and once the latter had visited him at his newabode, and had accompanied him to the theatre to watch the performancethere, which had filled him with pride and joy at his master's triumph,albeit he felt a pang of pain to see him reduced to such a method ofearning his bread.
That was the last time they had met, for the constant rains had made theroads well-nigh impassable. But the frost had come as a friend totravellers, and Grey felt sure that Dick would not be long in availinghimself of the changed conditions for a visit to town. It might beindeed that they would meet one another, if only he persevered in hiswalk. He wanted news of Don Carlos--now his one valuable asset. Muchas it went against him to sell his beautiful horse, he brought himselfto contemplate it as a possibility. As a poor man in London, thecreature was of little use to him, and there were a score of wealthyyoung bloods who had offered again and again to purchase the horse athis own price. The strained shoulder had entirely recovered. Thecreature was as sound as ever. Perhaps--perhaps--Grey had got as far asthat, when he suddenly heard himself hailed in rapturous tones as"Master! master!" and there was Dick racing to meet him at the top ofhis speed.
But the honest fellow's face was troubled; and scarce had Grey time togreet him ere the evil news was out.
"He is stolen, master--he is stolen! Don Carlos is gone! Oh, it hasbeen foul play from first to last! We had kept him so safely, Jock andI. The old skinflint had no notion of his being there. He grazed outof sight of the house, and at night was never brought in till afterdark. But that one-eyed Judas must have discovered the secret at last,and told his master. We never suspected it; but I will wager it was so.Then they played this scurvy trick on me. They said the old man wasdying. The doctor must be fetched at all cost. I and my nag, who paidour board, were known to be living with old Jock. I galloped off toEdgeware for the leech, and Jock was kept within doors, making hot largequantities of water, never allowed for a moment outside the brew-house,where stood the great copper filled with water. I rode away gleefullyenough, for I had no fears for the old man's life, though of course Iwould not have him die for lack of succour. I found the leech, and badehim ride back with me full speed; but we had both been long making thejourney, for the roads were like troughs of mire, and the beasts flaggedsorely when urged. We were forced to let them pick their way as theycould, and so it was well-nigh dusk ere we arrived. He went up to thesick-room, and I to groom down my jaded horse and fetch in Don Carlos.When I went for him to the far paddock, he was gone! The rails weredown. There was abundant trace of trampling hoofs and footprints ofmen. He had given them trouble; but they had him at last. The horsewas stolen!"
Grey listened in silence. He felt somewhat as did the patriarch Jobwhen one after another the messengers of evil tidings came with theirwords of woe. He scarce heard all that Dick was saying now--whom hesuspected of being in complicity with his unscrupulous kinsman in thismatter. But one name arrested his attention, and he stopped to ask aquick question.
"Lord Sandford! What said you of him?"
"Why, master, as I was telling you, when I began to make inquiry here,there, and everywhere, I heard that my Lord Sandford had been seen asnear as Edgeware, and that he had been asking something about a horse.More I cannot find out; but it is enough for me. There is devilry inthe matter, and Barty Dumaresq and Lord Sandford are both mixed up init. I have come to town to see you first, and then to get someknowledge of his lordship's stables, and I'll wager I'll find out beforevery long where the Don is hidden away."
Grey's eyes flashed with anger. Was it possible that this man shouldsink to plotting a common theft? Or was it his kinsman who had stolenthe horse, and sold him for a great sum to the young nobleman, who hadalways coveted the creature? This was most probably the truth, for therecluse of Hartsbourne had plainly feigned illness to get Dick and Jockout of the way. The whole thing was a dishonourable conspiracy, and hecould only hope that Lord Sandford's part in it had been merely that ofpurchaser. If he had stooped to plot a theft with the old miser, hewould be a worse and a meaner villain than Grey would willingly believe,since it was already the talk of the town that he would wed with theLady Geraldine Adair so soon as the spring-tide should come.
Master and man discussed the matter for some time, and Grey agreed thatDick should carry out his plans, and report to him of the result atintervals. It was above a week since the horse had vanished; but thestate of the roads had prevented the man from attempting the walk toLondon before, and he did not desire to be burdened with his own horse,as he knew not where he might have to lodge, or what was likely to turnup.
"Our fortunes are at a low ebb just now, good Dicon," said Grey as theyparted. "You have but a few gold pieces left, and our exchequer isalmost bare. But we must hope that Dame Fortune, who has shown afrowning face of late, will treat us to some of her smiles again. Forthe world is a harder place than once I thought it, and life a sorerstruggle."
"But you have the Duke's token still, sir?" spoke Dick eagerly. "Youneed not despair whilst that remains. They say he is in London now.Why not take it boldly to him, and remind him of yourself and hispromise? They say he has a kindly heart, as well as a gracious manner."
"I believe that is true," answered Grey with a smile. "Yes, why not goto him? Why not? Ah, Dicon, I would that life looked as simple to meas it does to you. But perhaps--perhaps-- Who knows what may nextbetide? At least, so long as the token remains, I have still a card toplay; and who can tell but that the last card shall take the trick andwin the game?"
The sunlight had faded by the time Grey reached the attic, and the firehad burnt itself out to a handful of ashes. Wylde was turningrestlessly upon his bed, cough
ing more than he had done of late; andGrey reproached himself with his long absence, though he quickly hadthings comfortable and bright again. But the old man must needs hear ofhis journey to the theatre; and though he professed himself in no wiseastonished, it was plain that the blow struck home.
His _protege_ had been set aside for another. They ceased to regard himas a power. He was laid upon the shelf, and another had stepped intohis place. His word carried no weight. No one cared whether he lived ordied. He had brought success and prosperity by his talents to others,but he was to be left to die in obscurity and want. Ah well, better menthan he had been treated just so. He desired of Grey to leave him todie alone, and to go forth and make his own way in the world that had noroom for a feeble and broken man whose work was done.
Grey soothed him as well as he was able, but he could not find much tosay that was hopeful or encouraging. He dared not speak of any promiseof help from the theatres, lest the old man should wrathfully refuse toreceive alms, where justice was denied. So he represented that there wasstill money left in their purse, which was in a measure true; but thefunds were so excessively scanty that in a few days they would be quiteexhausted. And when the old man at last passed into slumber, Grey wentcarefully over all his possessions, which had increased somewhat oflate, and carefully detached from his clothing any ornaments which mightbe sold for small sums to eke out their subsistence till somethingshould turn up. For it was evident that Wylde must not be left long byhimself, as this day's experiment had proved. And how was Grey to obtainany sort of paid work, were he to be tied to this attic and to almostconstant attendance upon his old friend and master?
How the next days passed by Grey scarcely knew, for the Old Lion had arelapse, medicines had to be obtained, together with food such as hiscondition required; and although a small sum of money had been sent byMr. Butler, with an intimation that the same amount should be paidweekly for the present, it had soon melted away, and there came a nightwhen Grey had not so much as a penny left in the purse, and he himselfwas almost faint for want of food.
But the old man lay sleeping peacefully; the fire burned clear andbright. The night was fine and cold, and Grey slipped forth into thestreets, wrapping himself well up in a voluminous cloak belonging to hisfriend, which completely disguised him.
A strange desperation seized him, and he cared not what he did. Heentered tavern after tavern, singing a roundelay in one, telling a storyin another, reciting a speech or a part of a dramatic scene in another,and once going through the whole dialogue of "Time and the Youth,"taking both parts himself, but so changing his aspect from moment tomoment that his audience was electrified, and silver coins as well ascoppers were his portion on this occasion.
He had now enough for two days' needs. He had supped well, and now mustreturn home. He felt as though he had passed through a strange blackdream; but he had learned how at a pinch the next day's wants might besupplied--at least until he had been the round of all the taverns andcoffee-houses, and men were tired of him. But he would not think ofthat yet.
He, Sir Grey Dumaresq, had sunk to playing the buffoon in pot-houses, toearn coppers from the idle sots who frequented such places. He laughedaloud as the thought presented itself to him thus. Dame Fortune hadproved a sorry shrew so far as he was concerned. Was there any lowerturn in her wheel that he must presently experience?
He had wandered some distance from home, since after having supped hehad been fired to try his luck at some of the more fashionable resortsof the day; and his last performance had been given at a coffee-house inone of the better localities, though for the life of him he could notexactly tell where he was.
It was long since he had walked in these wider streets, and the night,though starlight, was very dark. Suddenly a sound as of blows and crieswakened him from his reverie. Instinctively he started to run in thedirection whence they came, and almost directly he met some fellowswearing livery fleeing helter-skelter, as for dear life, from a band ofyoung Mohawks or Scourers, as they termed themselves, who made theterror of the town at night. In the distance there was still sometumult going on, and Grey, half guessing the cause, rushed onward, notheeding the pursuit he passed. A lamp dimly burning over a house showedhim the outline of one of those chairs in which ladies of fashion werecarried to and fro from house to house. Plainly the liveried servantsin charge of the chair had been chased away, and its occupant was now atthe mercy of the half-drunken young bloods against whom Father Time hadinveighed so eloquently.
Grey understood in a moment, and with a cry of rage and scorn he flunghimself into the heart of the fray, intent upon the rescue of the ladyin the chair, whoever she might be.