CHAPTER X
X
It was early morning of the next day and Debora Thornbury was in theupper room at Mistress Blossom's house. She folded one garment afteranother and laid them away in the little trunk that had come with herfrom home.
Darby entered the room before she had finished, and threw himselfwearily into a chair.
"Thou hast brought news," she said, eagerly; "he is better--or----"
"Nay, there is no great change. The Leech is still with him and makesno sign; yet I fancy he hath a shade of hope, for no further hemorrhagehath occurred. Nick sent me back to thee; he would not be denied."
"Ah!" she cried, "I am afraid to take heart. I dare not hope." Then,after a moment's pause, "Tell me, Darby; I must know. Who was it thatstruck him?"
"'Twas a player I know by reputation," replied Darby, "yet, as I toldthee, never met till yesternight. He is one Dorien North, and hath thevery name that Sherwood discarded--with ample reason, if what reportsays of this man be true. It seems they be first cousins, but whileSherwood is a most rarely good fellow, this other, albeit with the samegrace o' manner and a handsome enough face, is by odds the mostnotorious scamp out of Newgate to-day. He hath a polish an' wit thatstands him in place o' morals. Of late he hath been with the Lord HighAdmiral's men at 'The Rose'; but they were ever a scratch company, anda motley lot."
The girl moved unsteadily across to her brother. She grasped thevelvet sleeve of his tabard and gazed into his face with eyes great anddarkening.
"One thing follows on another o'er fast. I am bewildered. Is't truewhat thou hast just said, Darby?"
"Egad, yes!" he replied, wonderingly. "I would have told thee of Norththe day thou swooned, but 't went out o' my mind. Dost not rememberasking me why Sherwood had changed his name on the bills o' the play?Yet, what odds can it make?"
"Only this," she cried, "that this Dorien North, who has so painted thename black, and who but last night struck Nicholas Berwick, is in verytruth _little Dorien's father_. So goes the man's name the Puritanmaid told me. Moreover, he was a _player_ also. Oh! Darby, dost notsee? I thought 'twas the other--Don Sherwood."
"'Twas like a woman to hit so wide o' the mark," answered Darby."Did'st not think there might chance be two of the name? In any casewhat is't to thee, Deb?"
"Oh!" she said, laying her face against his arm, "I cannot tell thee;ask no more, but go thou and find him and tell him the story of NellQuinten, and how I thought that Dorien North she told me of was he; andafterwards if he wilt come with thee, bring him here to me. Perchancehe may be at Blackfriars, or--or 'The Tabard Inn,' or even abroad uponthe streets. In any case, find him quickly, dear heart, for the timeis short and I must away to Shottery, as I promised Nick,--poorNick,--poor Nick." So she fell to sobbing and crying.
The young fellow gazed at her in that distress which overtakes a manwhen a woman weeps.
"Marry," he said, "I wish thou would'st give over thy tears. I wearyof them and they will mend naught. There, cheer up, sweet. I willsurely find Sherwood, and at once, as 'tis thy wish."
It was high noon when Darby Thornbury returned. With him came theplayer Sherwood and another. The three entered Master Blossom's house,and Darby sought his sister.
"Don Sherwood waits below," he said, simply. "I met him on LondonBridge. He hath brought his cousin Dorien North with him."
"I thank thee," the girl answered. "I will go to them."
Presently she entered Dame Blossom's little parlour where the two menawaited her.
She stood a moment, looking from one to the other. Neither spoke norstirred.
Then Debora turned to Don Sherwood; her lips trembled a little.
"I wronged thee," she said, softly. "I wronged thee greatly. I askthy pardon."
"Nay," he said, going to her. "Ask it not, 'twas but a mistake. Iblame thee not for it. This," motioning to the other, "this is mykinsman, Dorien North. He is my father's brother's son, and we bearthe same name, or rather did so in the past."
The girl looked at the man before her coldly, yet half-curiously.
"I would," went on Sherwood, steadily, "that he might hear the taleDarby told me. To-morrow he sails for the Indies, as I have takenpassage for him on an outward-bound ship. He came to me for money toescape last night, after having stabbed one Master Berwick in a brawlat 'The Mermaid.' It may be thou hast already heard of this?"
"Ay!" she answered, whitening, "I have heard."
"I gave him the passage money," continued Sherwood, "for I would noteither have him swing on Tyburn or rot in Newgate. Yet I will even nowtell the Captain under whom he was to sail that he is an escapingfelon--a possible murderer--if he lies to thee in aught--and I shallknow if he lies."
The man they both watched threw back his handsome, blond head at thisand laughed a short, hard laugh. His dazzling white teeth glittered,and in the depths of his blue eyes was a smouldering fire.
"By St. George!" he broke out, "you have me this time, Don. Hang me!If I'm not betwixt the devil and the deep sea." Then, with a low bowto Debora, raising his hand against his heart in courtly fashion, "I amthy servant, fair lady," he said. "Ask me what thou dost desire. Iwill answer."
"I would have asked thee--Art thou that Dorien North who deceived andbetrayed one Nell Quinten, daughter of Makepeace Quinten, the Puritan,who lives near Kenilworth," said Debora, gravely; "but indeed I neednot to ask thee. The child who was in her arms when we found her--haththy face."
"Doth not like it?" he questioned, with bold effrontery, raising hissmiling, dare-devil eyes to hers.
"Ay!" she said, gently, "I love little Dorien's face, and 'tis trulythine in miniature--thine when it was small and fair and innocent. Oh!I am sorry for thee, Master Dorien North, more sorry than I was for thychild's mother, for she had done no evil, save it be evil to love."
A change went over the man's face, and for a moment it softened.
"Waste not thy pity," he said; "I am not worth it. I confess to all mysins. I wronged Nell Quinten, and the child is mine. Yet I would bealtogether graceless did I not thank thee for giving him shelter,Mistress Thornbury."
Sherwood, who had been listening in silence, suddenly spoke.
"That is all I needed of thee, Dorien," he said. "You may go. I donot think from here to the docks there will be danger of arrest; theheavy cloak and drooping hat so far disguise thee; while once onship-board thou art safe."
"I am in danger enough," said the other, with a shrug, "but it troublesme little. I bid thee farewell, Mistress Thornbury." And so saying heturned to go.
"Wait," she cried, impulsively, touching his arm. "I would not havethee depart so; thou art going into a far country, Master North, andsurely need some fair wishes to take with thee. Oh! I know thou hastbeen i' the wrong, many, many times over. Perchance, hitherto thouhast feared neither God nor the law. But last night--Nicholas Berwickwas sorely wounded by thee, and this because he defended my name."
"Yet 'twas thou who played at Blackfriars?" he questioned,hesitatingly. "I saw thee; it could have been no other."
"'Twas I," she answered. "I played in my brother's place--ofnecessity--but speak no more of that, 'tis over, and as that is pastfor me, so would I have thee leave all thy unhappy past. Take not thysins with thee into the new country. Ah! no. Neither go withbitterness in thy heart towards any, but live through the days thatcome as any gentleman should who bears thy name. Thy path and minehave crossed," she ended, the pink deepening in her face, "an' so Iwould bid thee godspeed for the sake of thy little son."
The man stood irresolute a moment, then stooped, lifted Debora's handto his lips and kissed it.
"Thou hast preached me a homily," he said, in low voice; "yet, 'foreHeaven, from such a priest I mind it not." And, opening the door, hewent swiftly away.
Then Don Sherwood drew Debora to him. "Nothing shall ever take theefrom me," he said, passionately. "I would not live, sweetheart, tosuffer what I suffered yesternight."
"Nor I," she answered.
"When may I to Shottery to wed thee?" he asked.
"Oh! I will not leave my father for many a day," she said, smilingtremulously. "Yet I would have thee come to Shotteryby-and-bye--peradventure, when the summer comes, and the great rosebushbeneath the south window is ablow."
"Beshrew me! 'tis ages away, the summer," he returned, with impatience.
"The days till then will be as long for me as for thee," she said,tenderly; and with this assurance, and because he would fain bepleasing her in all things, he tried to make himself content.