*CHAPTER XVII.*
*IN THE HOUSE OF THE DUKE.*
When Grey became next aware of any sensation, it was of a throbbing painin his head, which gradually asserted itself and dissipated the blackcloud of unconsciousness which had blotted out for the moment time andspace and memory itself. He had no desire to open his eyes; but in afaint and feeble fashion he began to wonder what it was that hadhappened, and what was the cause of this pain. Gradually he felt also astrange powerless numbness in one of his arms, which he was unable tomove. Also he felt that he was reposing on something very soft, with ascent of lavender in his nostrils, and a warmth and comfort to his bodythat went far to atone for pain in some of his members.
He heard the fall of coals in the grate; he knew that he was lyingbetween smooth linen sheets; his soothed senses seemed to take in anatmosphere other than that of the attic which had so long been his home.He thought of Hartsbourne; it almost seemed as though he were back thereonce more. He decided that either this was a dream, or else that allwhich had gone before was one. Perhaps he was, in truth, a boy, and hadbeen dreaming of manhood's struggles, manhood's crosses. Perhaps whenhe awoke, it would be to find his mother bending over him, and to hearof some boyish escapade in which he had hurt himself. Such things hadbeen in the past, and might be again; but sleep overtook his drowsybrain ere he had reasoned matters out.
How long he slept he knew not; but suddenly he woke with a mind moreclear. The events of the previous evening came back to him sharplydefined--the emptiness of their treasury; the urgent need upon him toobtain food and money; the shifts to which he had been reduced in sodoing; and last of all, that race towards some lady's chair, attacked bystreet ruffians; the short, sharp tussle round it, and the rain of blowswhich had stretched him senseless in the gutter.
Yes, he remembered it all now, and could account for the pain in hishead and arm. But what had befallen him since, and where was he now?As these questions asserted themselves, Grey opened his eyes; and whatdid he see?
He was lying in one of those huge canopied beds in which our ancestorsdelighted. He lay deep in a nest of down, fair linen sheets and silkencoverlets were spread over him, and crimson curtains were drawn roundthree sides of the bed. He saw lace ruffles upon the night-robe inwhich he lay, and the air was charged with an aromatic fragrance whichmight haply proceed from a mixture of drugs and perfumes. But it wasnot upon these matters that Grey's attention was concentrated, but upona quiet figure seated at a small table beside a brightly-blazing fire,his eyes bent fixedly upon the pages of a roll of manuscript spread openbefore him, and illumined by the soft radiance of a cluster of waxtapers set in a rich silver candlestick of many branches. This man wasattired in a flowing dressing-gown (as we now call such a garment) ofrichly-embroidered silk, fastened at the throat with a jewelled clasp,and bound at the waist by a girdle of golden cord. The falling hairfrom the ponderous wig served in part to veil the face, which was turnedslightly away from the bed; but as the reader moved to turn the page,and to trim one of the candles with the silver snuffers, his face wasfully revealed to Grey, and the young man uttered an exclamation ofastonishment, striving to start up in bed as he did so.
"The Duke himself!"
The words were scarcely articulate, for his tongue was dry and his voicesounded hoarse and strange in his own ears; but at the sound of it theDuke rose quickly from his seat, and came forward towards the bed with apleasant smile upon his face.
"Ah, my young friend, so you have come to your senses. That iswell--that is very well. Nay, nay; seek not to move. You must needsremain quiet awhile, to mend you of your hurts; but I trust they are ofno very serious nature, and that you will soon be sound and whole."
"But, your Grace, how come I here? What means it that I find myself insuch a place as this? I surely am not dreaming. It can be none otherbut the great Duke of Marlborough himself!"
"And wherefore not," questioned the Duke, smiling, "since it was hard bymy house that you were felled by ruffians, and in defence of a lady whohad but lately left my doors? So now the mystery is explained; and wemeet again, Grey Dumaresq, not on the field of battle this time, albeityou, who escaped without a scar or scratch at Ramillies, lie woundedhere at Marlborough House. And right glad am I to welcome you within mydoors; for it was but a few hours earlier that I was speaking of youwith my wife, and wishing that I might meet you once more."
"Your Grace does me too much honour," spoke Grey in bewildered accents,"to bring me to your house, to sit up by my side--"
"Tush! That is but the habit of an old campaigner. My couch wooes menot as it does other men. I am used to little sleep and hard days. Ilive something too soft when I reach this land. Besides, yonder scrollabsorbed me. For that you are responsible, my friend. Did I not tellyou when first we met that you had the face of a poet? And for me thereis stronger attraction in the poetry of prose than in that whichexpresses itself in rhyme and metre, which has a fashion of halting,like a horse whose legs begin to fail him, and who changes his feet orstumbles ever and anon."
The colour swept over Grey's pale face. He remembered now that thepacket containing his romance was buttoned up tightly in the breastpocket of the outer coat which he wore that day. Doubtless, it hadfallen out when they took off his clothes, and there it lay spread outupon, the table, more than three parts read by the Duke himself.
"I ask no pardon for my boldness in thus scanning your romance,"proceeded the great man kindly, "albeit I did open the packet withintent to discover if it might contain your place of abode, so that Imight send word to your friend where you were and what had befallen you.Now wherefore this start and upraising? Did I not tell you it behovedyou to lie still? Must I call the physician from his slumbers to repeathis orders himself?"
"I crave your Grace's pardon," answered Grey, sinking back upon hispillows; "but your words did bring back to me the remembrance of a sickold man, dependent upon me for tendance and care. When I left him, Iknew that for many hours he had all that he did need beside him. But ifI am long detained from his side, he must needs suffer lack and hurt."
"Nay; but I will see that he does neither. Tell me only where he may befound, and I will send a trusty messenger to do all that is needful, andmake arrangements for his comfort during the time which may elapsebefore you can return."
So Grey gave the needful information, and the Duke issued some orders tohis servants in the outer room, returning to the bedside with a faceexpressive of a kindly curiosity and wonder.
Sitting down at the bedside, and entering into friendly talk with theyoung man, it was not difficult to draw from him a full and detailedaccount of all that had betided since they first met upon the field ofRamillies, and Grey had gone back to his native land to see what fortunehad in store for him there.
The Duke made an excellent and sympathetic listener. He was sincerelyinterested in this young man. He owed him a personal debt of gratitude.Both he and his wife suspected that Lady Geraldine Adair, her favourite,was more than a little attracted by young Sir Grey Dumaresq, whom shehad admitted to have met more than once during his brief career as agentleman of fashion and the friend of Lord Sandford. They had seenself-betrayal in her face last night when he was carried in senseless,and she knew that he was her unknown preserver, who had diverted theattack of the young street ruffians from her chair, and had thus giventime for the Duke's carriage to come up; and it had recalled to theirminds and hearts the memory of their own young courting days, when JohnChurchill was paying his addresses to Sarah Jennings, and they could seeand think of nothing but each other and their love. That Grey Dumaresqhad fallen upon evil times there could be no manner of doubt, and thathis fortunes were at the lowest ebb was manifest; yet the Duke, as helistened to the tale, was revolving many matters in his mind, and onlyspoke to lead the young man on by some well-timed question to expresshimself with more freedom and detail.
As for Grey, when once the ice had
been broken, he had no desire forreserve. There was a strange sense of comfort and relief in pouring outhis tale into sympathetic ears. The only matters he held back were hissuspicions of others--firstly, those respecting his kinsman, and anypossible hand he might have had in hastening his father's death; andsecondly, those concerning Lord Sandford and his possible treacherytowards himself. It seemed to him unfair to speak of unprovensuspicions of crime or evil plotting to one so high in station as theDuke of Marlborough, whose smile or frown might mean so much to thosewho merited it. But of all else he spoke with frank freedom andunreserve; and at the last, when his tale was told, he saw the kindlygaze of the Duke bent upon him with shrewd searching inquiry.
"And so, Grey Dumaresq, you came actually to know the lack of food; andyet you bore upon your person all the while the token I had given you,telling you that you had but to show the same to my wife, and she wouldfind means of rewarding you for the service done to her husband."
"I had had my reward in your Grace's favour and kindness," answered Greywith quiet dignity; "I prized that token as a thing most precious. YetI never desired to use it as a means of gain. I will not say I neverthought of it," he added, after a moment's pause, his colour slightlyrising as he spoke; "and perchance had matters gone so with my oldfriend Jonathan Wylde that privation or starvation nearly threatenedhim, I might e'en have swallowed my pride, and become a suppliant forfavour. But I should have fallen in my own esteem had I been forced tosuch a step. It may be pride--false pride--haughtiness of spirit--Iknow not; but in the days of my prosperity I would not seek to curryfavour by making capital out of something which I desired to retain as apleasant memory. And when poverty had fallen upon me, and I had droppedmy name and my title, and was known only as a poor actor, living inobscurity and poverty, how could I hope to be admitted to the presenceof the Duchess? How could I desire to parade my fallen fortunes beforethe eyes of her train of servants? Your Grace had called mefriend--that was my reward."
With a smile the great man slowly shook his head. Although a love formoney amounting to greed was his own besetting sin, he could admiredisinterestedness and honourable pride in others. He knew that had Greyplayed his cards well, seeking only personal advancement and place, hemight by this time have risen, through the influence of the Duchess,into some position which would have secured him ease and affluence. Heknew that in his place he would not have scrupled to do this, nor wouldnine-tenths of the men of the day. Although he smiled at the romanticfolly and chivalrous scruples of the youth of poetical temperament, hecould yet admire those highly unpractical qualities which had gone nearto bring him to ruin.
"Well, my young friend," he said at last, "there must be an end of thismasquerading in rags and tatters. I shall make it my business to bringyour case before the Queen herself. I trow that you have been scurvilytreated by your kinsman, and that that matter requires investigation.In addition to this, no man with that book in his hands," and he pointedto the roll upon the table, "should lack for daily bread. There shouldbe a fortune in it, or in the hands of the man who owns the brain thatconceived and the hand that penned it. See here, Sir Grey. The Queenis not exactly a critic of literature or a patron of all genius, but shehas a love for what is pure and beautiful and simply true. I warrantthat yonder romance will go home to her heart. My wife shall take itand read it to her this very afternoon, when she is to be in attendanceupon her Majesty. When that has been done, take my word for it, youwill have half the publishers of the town crowding cap in hand to cravethe favour of bringing it out for the world to read. Oh, you need notblush, like a young mother when her firstborn babe is praised! I trow Iknow a good book when I see it; and that is one which will mightilyplease her Majesty, since it sings the praise of pure love andchivalrous fidelity, and all those virtues which seem well-nigh out ofdate, but which the Queen would fain see restored as in the bygone daysof knights-errant and King Arthur's Round Table."
"I was told that there was no sale nowadays for aught but scurrilouslibels and bitter lampoons, or at best for political pamphlets treatingof subjects of which I know naught."
"Ay, men love garbage, when they can get it; and the strife of bittertongues is entertaining to those who would fain believe all that is badof their fellows. Yet are there enough pure and loving souls left inthis great Babylon to appreciate such work as yonder; and when once herMajesty's favour has been shown to it and its writer, you will see howthese same publishers will change their tone. Every aspirant toliterary fame needs a patron, and your patron shall be the Queen."
It was almost too wonderful for belief. Grey was not sure still that hedid not dream. And after he had swallowed the draught which his hostmixed and held to his lips, he quickly fell into a sound slumber fromwhich even dreams were banished. But when he woke again the sun mustlong have been up, and surely he was again dreaming; for here was Dickhimself, clad once more in the livery of a well-to-do servant, standingat his bedside with a tray containing a light but savoury breakfast.
"Dicon! Why, will wonders never cease? Man alive, how came you here?"
"Why, if you will but sit up, and let me give you of this broth whichhas been specially prepared for you, I will gladly tell you all.Master, my dear master, I trow that all our troubles are ended now!"
"If I could be sure I were not dreaming, good Dicon, belike I might saythe same; but my head is so bewildered, I know not what to believe. Yetit is good to see your honest face again, even in a dream."
"Faith, I am no dream, master, and my tale can soon be told. I cameinto the town soon after dawn, to tell you I had discovered Don Carlosin Lord Sandford's stables at St. Albans, where he keeps the beasts heuses for racing and such like. And no sooner had I stepped into atavern not so far from here for a pot of ale and crust of bread, when Idid hear that all the town was ringing with the tale of how young SirGrey Dumaresq, who had disappeared mysteriously not long since hadrisked his life not far from Marlborough House in beating off a gang ofMohawks from besetting and perhaps injuring the Lady Geraldine Adair,who was returning homewards after an evening spent with the Duchess.Nay, master, what ails you? You are white as a ghost. Lie down again,and let me fetch the leech."
"Nay, nay, good Dicon; 'tis but a passing qualm. Heed it not. So it wasthe Lady Geraldine who was in that chair?"
"Yes; and there is no knowing what might have befallen her, but for thetimely arrival of Sir Grey. That is what all the town is buzzing about.Well, when I heard that, I thought I would make bold to present myselfhere, and lay claim to be your servant. And who should come to speakwith me but the Duke himself, who even remembered having seen my facethat day at Ramillies! I vow he did talk with me for hard upon an hour;and I did tell him--oh, I told him everything that I could thinkof--things I have not yet dared to speak to you, my master. I have toldhim what Jock Jarvis and I do think of old Barty at Hartsbourne, andwhat I think of my Lord Sandford, and how he did first seek to cause youto break your neck, and then robbed you by foul means of your horse--thehorse that carried his Grace so bravely through the battle of Ramillies.Oh, I saw how his eyes flashed. I trow he will have a rod in pickle formy Lord Sandford yet! He is a noble and knightly gentleman; and when hehad heard all I had to say, he did call me an honest fellow; and he gaveme some gold pieces, and sent me out with one of his servants to get mea livery such as it became Sir Grey's servant to wear. And he told meto come back to wait upon you, my master, for that he and her Grace wereabout to go to Whitehall to attend upon the Queen this afternoon andevening; and I warrant they will tell a tale to her Majesty which willput a spoke in some fine gentleman's wheel."
Grey lay back upon his pillows breathless with wonder and excitement;but it was excitement of that joyful kind which acts rather as a tonicupon the system than as a deterrent to recovery. He sent Dick away tomake inquiries about the Old Lion; and as the man went out, the Duke'sphysician entered and examined the wound upon Grey's head and thecondition of the broken arm, which he had skilfully set, and
ended bypermitting his patient, after other two hours of quiet rest, to leavehis bed for a few hours to sit in the adjoining room for a while underthe care of his servant.
"Had you been like too many of our young gallants, full-blooded, heatedwith wine, softened by gluttony and rich living, these injuries mighthave involved blood-letting and other severe remedies. But yourtemperate life and meagre living of late tell in your favour now. Youneed heartening up and strengthening by good food and a little old winecarefully administered, and you will soon cease to feel any ill effects.I congratulate you heartily on the occasion which has brought you onceagain into the notice of the Duke, who can be a stanch and true friend,as I have reason to know."
When Dick returned to him he was laden with fine clothing, such as Greyhad been wont to wear, and which the man spread out with an air of prideand delight that was good to see.
"See there! The Duke's own clothes--those he wore some few years since,when he was something slimmer than now. He bade his man look them outfor you, seeing that your own garments were all torn andmud-bespattered--"
"Ay, and of fustian, in lieu of cloth, and silk, and velvet," addedGrey, as he looked smilingly at the rich clothing before him. "Well,well, Dicon, when one comes suddenly into the midst of an enchantedpalace, one must take the good the gods provide. But tell me of Mr.Wylde. Have you learned aught concerning him?"
"Why, truly yes. I saw the messenger who had been to him; and at thesight of the Duke's livery the whole house was astir, and not a creaturethere but will wait hand and foot upon the old man till otherarrangements for him can be made. The fellow saw him and gave him newsof you, and he was right well content. He said he should lack fornothing; and the man did leave with the host two gold pieces sent by hisGrace, and told him that he would have to answer to the Duke if aughtwent amiss with him. After that you need have no fear."
Grey's last anxiety thus set at rest, he seemed to have nothing left towish for. He drowsed away another hour in peaceful dreamy fashion, andfelt fully equal to the fatigue of being dressed by Dick, and walkingwith the help of his arm into the adjoining room--a pleasant sunnyapartment, on the table of which stood a great bowl of pure whitesnowdrops, at which Grey gazed with an infinite delight; for the sightof white flowers always brought back to his mind one particular face andform, and the very thought of his nearness to her last night set hisheart beating tumultuously within him.
He was lying back luxuriously in a deep armchair, beside the glowingheat of the fire. The sunlight filtered in through the great mullionsof the window, and the light seemed to concentrate itself upon thewhiteness of the flowers near at hand. Dick had retired into the innerroom to set his master's things in order there. Grey was alone--alonewith his bewildering thoughts of happiness to come, scarce knowing howmuch of all he had heard could be true, or what would be the outcome.
Had he slept as he sat there musing? What was that sound somewhere inthe room? He lifted his head and looked round. A tall, slender,white-robed figure was standing outlined against the rich tapestry ofthe wall behind. He had not heard the door open or the arras lifted.But she was there; and somehow he was not astonished. It seemed onlynatural to see her, the golden shafts of sunlight seeming to cling toher, and to follow her as she came slowly forward with that inimitablegrace of movement he knew so well.
For one moment he sat spellbound, and then struggled to his feet,holding out his hands.
In a moment she was beside him, holding them--holding them fast; for hewas weaker than he knew, and he swayed a little, a mist before his eyes.Then he was back in his chair, and she was standing over him. She washolding something to his lips. He drank, and his senses cleared.
"Forgive me," she said; "I should not have come yet; but I so longed tothank you myself, and to be assured that you had not suffered too muchin my service."
"I could not suffer too much in such service," he answered. "And frommy heart I thank you for coming. I have been so hungry for the sight ofyou, Geraldine."
"And I too," she answered in the lowest whisper, as she just touched hishair lightly with her hand.