diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547-8.txt | 9600 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 180240 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 189392 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547-h/18547-h.htm | 9668 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547.txt | 9600 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18547.zip | bin | 0 -> 180207 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
9 files changed, 28884 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18547-8.txt b/18547-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d6a33d --- /dev/null +++ b/18547-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9600 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Madame Flirt + A Romance of 'The Beggar's Opera' + +Author: Charles E. Pearce + +Release Date: June 10, 2006 [EBook #18547] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + MADAME FLIRT + + + A ROMANCE OF + "THE BEGGAR'S OPERA" + + BY + + CHARLES E. PEARCE + + _"Why how now Madam Flirt"--Lucy._ + + + AUTHOR OF + + "STIRRING DEEDS IN THE GREAT WAR," "A QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK," + "CORINTHIAN JACK," ETC. + + LONDON + STANLEY PAUL & CO. + 31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.2. + +_Printed in Great Britain at the Athenæum Printing Works, Redhill_ + + FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1922. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"IF YOUR NAME ISN'T POLLY IT OUGHT TO BE" + + +"As pretty a wench as man ever clapped eyes on. Wake up, Lance, and look +at her." + +The portly man of genial aspect sitting in the corner of the bow window +of the Maiden Head Inn at the High Street end of Dyott Street in the +very heart of St. Giles, clapped his sleeping friend on the shoulder and +shook him. The sleeper, a young man whose finely drawn features were +clouded with the dregs of wine, muttered something incoherently, and +with an impatient twist shifted his body in the capacious arm-chair. + +"Let him alone, Mr. Gay. When a man's in his cups he's best by himself. +'Twill take him a day's snoring to get rid of his bout. The landlord +here tells me he walked with the mob from Newgate to Tyburn and back and +refreshed himself at every tavern on the way, not forgetting, I warrant +you, to fling away a guinea at the Bowl, the Lamb, and the 'Black Jack' +over yonder, and drink to the long life of the daring rogue in the cart +and the health of the hangman to boot." + +"Long life indeed, my lord. A couple of hours at most. Not that the +length of life is to be measured by years. I don't know but what it's +possible to cram one's whole existence into a few hours, thanks to that +thief of time," rejoined John Gay pointing to the bottle on the table. + +The poet's placid face saddened. John Gay had always taken life as a +pleasure, but there is no pleasure without pain as he had come to +discover. Maybe at that moment a recollection of his follies gave his +conscience a tinge. Of Gay it might be said that he had no enemies other +than himself. + +"Oh, the passing hour is the best doubtless, since we never know whether +the next may not be the worst," laughed Henry St. John, Lord +Bolingbroke. "I'll wager Jack Sheppard's best was when the noose was +round his neck. The rascal will trouble nervous folks no more. After all +he was of some use. See that drunken rabble. But for the brave show he +made at Tyburn yesterday, would those ladies and gentlemen be merry +making, think you, and would the tavern keepers and the gin sellers be +putting money in their pockets?" + +Gay turned his eyes to the open window. + +"I don't want to think of the rascally knave or the rabble either. My +thoughts are on yonder pretty little jade. Look for yourself, +Bolingbroke. You're not so insensible to beauty as Lance Vane is at this +moment." + +"Faith, I hope not. Where's the charmer?" said Bolingbroke walking to +the window. + +"Stay. She's going to sing. She has the voice of a nightingale. I've +heard her before. Lord! to think she has to do it for a living!" + +"Humph. She has courage. Most girls would die rather than rub shoulders +with that frousy, bestial, drunken mob." + +"Aye, but that little witch subdues them all with her voice. What says +Will Congreve? Music has charms to soothe a savage breast? Listen." + +A girl slight in figure but harmoniously proportioned had placed herself +about two yards from the bow window. She fixed her eyes on Gay and her +pretty mouth curved into a smile. Then she sang. The ditty was "Cold and +Raw," a ballad that two hundred years ago or so, never failed to delight +everybody from the highest to the lowest. She gave it with natural +feeling and without any attempt at display. The voice was untrained but +this did not matter. It was like the trill of a bird, sweet, flexible +and pure toned. + +"A voice like that ought not to be battered about. It's meant for +something better than bawling to a mob. What says your lordship?" + +Bolingbroke's face had become grave, almost stern. His high, somewhat +narrow, slightly retreating forehead, long nose and piercing eyes lent +themselves readily to severity. Twenty-five years before it was not so. +He was then the gayest of the gay and in the heyday of his career. Much +had happened since then. Disappointed political ambitions and political +flirtations with the Jacobite party had ended in exile in France, from +which, having been pardoned, he had not long returned. + +Meeting Gay, the latter suggested a prowl in St. Giles, where life was +in more than its usual turmoil consequent upon the execution of Jack +Sheppard; so Viscount Bolingbroke revisited the slums of St. Giles, +which had been the scene of many an orgy in his hot youth. + +The nobleman returned no answer to Gay's question. His thoughts had gone +back to his early manhood when he took his pleasure wherever he found +it. In some of his mad moods St. Giles was more to his taste than St. +James's. So long as the face was beautiful, and the tongue given to +piquant raillery, any girl was good enough for him. He was of the time +when a love intrigue was a necessary part of a man's life, and not +infrequently of a woman's too. + +Successful lover though he had been he was not all conquering. The +ballad singer's tender liquid tones carried his memory back to the +low-born girl with the laughing eyes who had captured his heart. She +sold oranges about the door of the Court of Requests, she sang ballads +in the street, she was a little better than a light of love, yet +Bolingbroke could never claim her as his own. It angered him sorely +that she had a smile for others. But he bore her no malice, or he would +hardly have written his poetical tribute commencing:-- + + + "Dear, thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend, + Believe for once the lover and the friend." + + +So Gay's words were unheeded. A heavy step sounded on the sanded floor. +A big man with features formed on an ample mould had entered. Gay was +entranced by the singer and did not hear him. The newcomer stood +silently behind the poet. He too, was listening intently. + +The girl's voice died into a cadence. Gay beckoned to her and she came +up to the window. + +"Finely sung, Polly," cried Gay. "Who taught thee, child?" + +"I taught myself, sir," said she dropping a curtsey. + +"Then you had a good teacher. There's a crown for you." + +"Oh sir ... it's too much." + +"Nay, Polly--if your name isn't Polly it ought to be. What does your +mother call you?" + +"Mostly an idle slut, sir." + +Her face remained unmoved save her eyes, which danced with sly +merriment. + + +The men at the window burst into a roar of laughter. He who had entered +last laughed the loudest and deepest, and loud and deep as was that +laugh it was full of music. At its sound Gay turned sharply. + +"What? Dick Leveridge? You've come at the right moment. We need someone +who knows good music when he hears it. What of this pretty child's +voice. Is it good?" + +"Is it good? I'll answer your question, Mr. Gay, by asking you another. +Are you good at verses?" + +"'Tis said my 'Fables' will be pretty well. The young Prince William +will have the dedication of it and if his mother, the Princess of Wales +approves, methinks my fortune's made," cried Gay buoyantly. + +"Glad to hear it," replied Leveridge, dryly. "If I know anything about +His Royal Highness you'll gain a fortune sooner by writing a ballad or +two for this pretty songster. Make her famous as you made me with 'All +in the Downs' and 'T'was when the seas were roaring.'" + +Gay's face brightened. + +"Faith, Dick, you've set my brain working. I'll think on't, but that +means I must keep my eye on the wench." + +"Oh, I'll trust you for that," rejoined Leveridge, the ghost of a smile +flitting across his solemn visage. + +Meanwhile the girl had retreated a yard or two from the window, her gaze +fixed wistfully on Gay and Leveridge. She knew from their looks that she +was the subject of their talk. + +Gay turned from his friend Richard Leveridge, the great bass singer of +the day, and rested his hands on the window sill. Bolingbroke had sunk +into his chair, and buried in his thoughts, was slowly sipping his wine. +Lancelot Vane continued to breathe heavily. + +"Come here, child," said Gay through the open window and sinking his +voice. The crowd had pressed round her and were clamourous for her to +sing again. Some had thrown her a few pence for which a couple of +urchins were groping on the ground. + +The girl approached. + +"Now Polly----" + +"My name's Lavinia--Lavinia Fenton, sir," she interrupted. + +"Too fine--too fine. I like Polly better. Never mind. If it's Lavinia, +Lavinia it must be. What's your mother? Where does she live?" + +"At the coffee house in Bedfordbury." + +"Does she keep it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And what do _you_ do?" + +"Wait on the customers--sometimes." + +"And sometimes you sing in the streets--round the taverns, eh?" + +"Only when mother drives me out." + +"Oh. She ill treats you, does she? That bruise on your shoulder--was it +her work?" + +The girl nodded. + +"You wouldn't mind if you left your mother and did nothing but sing?" + +"Oh, that would be joy," cried the girl squeezing her hands tightly +together to stifle her emotions. "But how can I?" + +"It may be managed, perhaps. I must see your mother----" + +He was interrupted by a deafening roar--hoarse, shrill, raucous, +unmistakably drunken. A huge, ragged multitude had poured into the High +Street from St. Martin's Lane, jostling, fighting, cursing, eager for +devilment, no matter what. They rushed to the hostelries, they +surrounded the street sellers of gin, demanding the fiery poisonous +stuff for which they had no intention of paying. + +The landlord of the "Maiden Head" hurried into the room somewhat +perturbed. + +"Best shut the window, gentlemen," said he. "This vile scum's none too +nice. Anything it wants it'll take without so much as by your leave, or +with your leave." + +"What does it mean, landlord?" asked Bolingbroke. + +"Oh's all over Jack Sheppard. The people are mad about the rascal just +because the turnkeys couldn't hold him, nor prison walls for the matter +o' that. He was clever in slipping out o' prison I grant ye. Well, sirs, +his body was to be handed over to the surgeons like the rest o' the +Tyburn gentry, but his friends would have none of it. A bailiff somehow +got hold of the corpse to make money out of it--trust them sharks for +_that_ when they see a chance--an' smuggled it to his house in Long +Acre. It got wind afore many hours was past and the mob broke into the +place, the Foot Guards was called out an' there's been no end of a +rumpus." + +"Faith, my poor Gay," said Bolingbroke with a sardonic smile, "the +people make more fuss over a burglar than over a ballad maker. And +what's become of the noble Sheppard's body, landlord?" + +"It's hidden somewhere. They say as it'll be buried to-night in St. +Martin's Churchyard. So the people'll get their way after all." + +"As they mostly do if they make noise enough," rejoined Bolingbroke +refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff. + +"Yes, your honour, and----" + +The sound of a loud high pitched, strident voice floated into the room +through the open window. Gay, whose eyes had never shifted from the girl +outside, saw her cheeks suddenly blanch. She looked round hurriedly like +a frightened rabbit seeking a way of escape. + +"Bring the girl in, landlord," exclaimed the poet hastily. "She'll come +to harm else. Lord! Look at those drunken beasts. No--no"--the landlord +was about to shut the latticed windows--"run to the door, child. Quick." + +A howling sottish mob mad with drink, clamouring, gesticulating, men and +women jostling each other, embracing vulgarly, their eyes glassy, their +faces flushed, was approaching the inn. + +The mob was headed by a handsome woman. She was in the plenitude of +fleshly charms. Her dress, disordered, showed her round solidly built +shoulders, her ample bust. Some day unless her tastes and her manner of +life altered she would end in a bloway drab, every vestige of beauty +gone in masses of fat. But at that moment she was the model of a +reckless Bacchante, born for the amusement and aggravation of man. + +Her maddening eyes were directed on the Maiden Head inn. Her full lips +were parted in a harsh boisterous laugh; her white teeth gleamed; the +blood ran riot in her veins; she was the embodiment of exuberant, +semi-savage, animal life. She danced up to the open window. The sight of +the sleeping Lance Vane had drawn her thither. + +Up to that moment Lavinia Fenton's back was towards the woman. Lavinia +tried to get away without notice, but the Bacchante's escort was too +numerous, too aggressive, too closely packed. They hoped for some fun +after their own tastes. + +"Mercy on me," muttered Gay apprehensively, "that impudent hussy, Sally +Salisbury. And drunk too. This means trouble. Dick," he whispered +hurriedly to Leveridge, "you can use your fists if need be. I've seen +you have a set-to in Figg's boxing shed. That girl's in danger. Sally's +bent on mischief. There's murder in her eyes. Come with me." + +Leveridge nodded and followed his friend out of the room. + +Gay's action was none too prompt. No sooner had Sally +Salisbury--destined to be, a few years later, the most notorious woman +of her class--set eyes on the girl than her brows were knitted and her +lips and nostrils went white. Her cheeks on the other hand blazed with +fury. She gripped the shrinking girl and twisted her round. Then she +thrust her face within a few inches of Lavinia's. + +"What do you mean by coming here, you squalling trollop?" she screamed. +"How dare you poach on my ground, you----" + +How Sally finished the sentence can be very well left to take care of +itself. + +Lavinia despite her terror of the beautiful virago never lost her +self-control. + +"You're welcome to this ground every inch of it, but I suppose I've as +much right to walk on it as you have," said she. + +"Don't talk to me, you little trull, or you'll drive me to tear your +eyes out. Take that." + +With the back of her disengaged hand she struck the girl's cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +"GO YOUR OWN WAY YOU UNGRATEFUL MINX" + + +The mob roared approval at the prospect of a fight, and though the +combatants were unfairly matched some of the ruffians urged the girl to +retaliate. + +"Go for her hair, little un," one shouted. "There's plenty of it. Once +you get a fair hold and tear out a handful she'll squeak, I'll warrant." + +The advice was not taken and maybe nobody expected it would be. Anyway, +before Sally could renew the attack her arm was seized by a man, slight +in stature and with a naturally humorous expression on his lean narrow +face and in his bright twinkling eyes. + +"Enough of this brawling, mistress. If you _must_ fight choose someone +as big and as strong as yourself, not a lambkin." + +The crowd knew him and whispers went round. "That's Spiller--Jemmy +Spiller the famous play actor." "No, is it though. Lord, he can make +folks laugh--ah, split their sides a'most. I see him last Saturday at +Master Rich's theayter in the Fields, and I thought I should ha' died." + +Spiller was better at making people laugh than at holding an infuriated +woman. But he had two friends with him, stalwart butchers from Clare +Market, and he turned the task over to them with the remark that they +were used to handling mad cattle. + +At this point Gay and Leveridge forced their way through the crowd. Gay +saw the red angry mark on the girl's pallid face and guessed the cause. +He drew her gently to him. + +"Run inside the house. I'll join you presently," he whispered. + +She thanked him with her eyes and vanished. Gay turned to Spiller. + +"You deserve a double benefit at Drury Lane, Jemmy, for what you did +just now. That wild cat was about to use her claws," said he. + +"Aye, and her teeth too, Mr. Gay." + +"You'll need a mouthful of mountain port after that tussle. And your +friends as well, when they've disposed of Mistress Salisbury." + +The butchers had removed her out of harm's way. Some of her lady friends +and sympathisers had joined her; and a couple of young "bloods" who had +come to see the fun of an execution, with money burning holes in their +pockets, being captured, the party subsided into the "Bowl" where a +bottle of wine washed away the remembrance of Sally Salisbury's +grievance. But she vowed vengeance on the "squalling chit" sooner or +later. + +Meanwhile the object of Sally Salisbury's hoped for revenge was sitting +in a dark corner of the coffee room of the Maiden Head tavern. She felt +terribly embarrassed and answered Bolingbroke's compliments in +monosyllables. He pressed her to take some wine but she refused. To her +great relief he did not trouble her with attentions. + +Then Gay entering with Spiller and his butcher friends, and Leveridge, +as soon as he could, approached her. + +"Tell me, Polly,--my tongue refuses to say Lavinia--how you have +offended that vulgar passionate woman?" + +"I don't know. Jealousy, I suppose. She's burning to sing but she can't. +Sing, why she sets one's teeth on edge! It might be the sharpening of a +knife on a grindstone. She would be a play actress, and Mrs. Barry at +Drury Lane promised to help her, but they quarrelled. Sally wanted to be +a great actress all at once, but you can't be, can you, sir?" + +She looked at the poet earnestly. Her large grey eyes were wonderfully +expressive, and Gay did not at once answer. He was thinking how sweet +was the face, and how musical and appealing the voice. + +"True, child, and that you should say it shows your good sense. Wait +here a few minutes and then you shall take me to your mother." + +Gay crossed the room to his friends, and they talked together in low +voices. Spiller and Leveridge had much to say--indeed it was to these +two, who had practical knowledge of the theatre, to whom he appealed. +Bolingbroke sat silently listening. + +Gay's project concerning his new found protégée was such as would only +have entered into the brain of a dreamy and impecunious poet. He saw in +Lavinia Fenton the making of a fine actress--not in tragedy but in +comedy--and of an enchanting singer. But to be proficient she must be +taught not only music, but how to pronounce the English language +properly. She had to a certain extent picked up the accent of the +vulgar. It was impossible, considering her surroundings and +associations, to be otherwise. But proper treatment and proper +companions would soon rid her of this defect. + +Both Spiller and Leveridge agreed she was fitted for the stage. But how +was she to be educated? And what was the use of education while she was +living in a Bedfordbury coffee house! + +"She must be sent to a boarding school and be among gentlefolk," +declared Gay energetically. + +"Excellent," said Bolingbroke, speaking for the first time, "and may I +ask who will pay for the inestimable privilege of placing her among the +quality?" + +The irony in St. John's voice did not go unnoticed by Gay, but he +continued bravely. + +"I will, if her mother won't." + +"You? My good friend, you can scarce keep yourself. But 'tis like you to +add to the burden of debt round your neck rather than reduce it. Have +you been left a fortune? Have your dead South Sea Shares come back to +life?" + +"Nay, Bolingbroke, don't remind me of my folly," rejoined Gay, a little +piqued. "We can't always be wise. Thou thyself--but let that pass, the +future is the foundation of hope. Before long I shall be in funds. The +'Fables' will be in the booksellers' hands ere the month is out." + +"Oh, that's well. But the booksellers, though eager enough to sell their +wares, are not so ready to pay the writer his due. Moreover if I know +anything of John Gay, of a certainty all the money he puts in his pocket +will go out of the hole at the other end." + +"I know--I know," rejoined the poet hastily. "But I'm not thinking alone +of the booksellers. It is a 'place' I shall have and an annual income +that will sweep away all my anxieties." + +"Then you're in favour with the Princess and her obedient servant Sir +Robert--or is Walpole her master? What will the Dean of St. Patrick and +Mr. Pope say to your surrender?" + +"No, no. I will never write a word in praise of either. There's not a +word in the 'Fables' that can be twisted into bolstering up the +Government." + +"And you think to receive your comfortable 'place' out of pure +admiration of your poetical gifts? My poor Gay!" + +"No. Friendship." + +"Well, well, you must go your own way or you wouldn't be a poet. I leave +you to your commendable work of rescuing damsels in distress." + +And after refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff Bolingbroke with a +wave of the hand to Gay and his friends strode from the room leaving the +poet with his pleasant face somewhat overcast. + +But his chagrin did not last long. His natural buoyancy asserted itself +and he beckoned to Lavinia who was sitting primly on the edge of the +hard chair, her folded hands resting on her lap. Before she could cross +the room Spiller and Leveridge took up Bolingbroke's argument, and urged +Gay not to meddle further in the matter. + +"Nay, why should I not? It would be a shame and a pity that so much good +talent should be wasted on the groundlings of St. Giles. Besides, there +is the girl herself," Gay lowered his voice. "You wouldn't have her be +like Sally Salisbury, Jemmy, would you? She has a good and innocent +nature. It will be torn to tatters if she be not looked after now. No. +Neither you nor Dick Leveridge will talk me out of my intent. Do you see +what misguided youth may easily come to? Look at your friend Vane." + +Gay pointed to the sleeping young man. + +"I know--I know. The young fool," returned Spiller a little angrily. +"Wine is Lancelot Vane's only weakness--well, not the only one, any +pretty face turns his head." + +"He's not the worse for that provided a good heart goes with the pretty +face." + +"Aye, _if_." + +"Look after him then. When he awakens from his drunken fit he'll be like +clay in the hands of the potters." + +"Faith, you're right, Mr. Gay, but there's one thing that'll protect +him--his empty purse. I doubt if he has a stiver left. I know he drew +some money from the _Craftsman_ yesterday." + +"What, does he write for that scurrilous, venomous print?" cried Gay, +visibly disturbed. + +"Not of his own will. He hates the paper and he hates Amherst, who owns +it. But what is a man to do when poverty knocks at the door?" + +"That may be. Still--I wish he had nothing to do with that abusive +fellow, Nicholas Amherst, who calls himself 'Caleb D'Anvers,' why I know +not, unless he's ashamed of the name his father gave him. Do you know +that the _Craftsman_ is always attacking my friends, Mr. Pope, Dr. +Swift, Dr. Arbuthnot? As for myself--but that's no matter." + +"Oh, Amherst's a gadfly, no doubt. But your friends can take care of +themselves. For every blow they get they can if it so pleases them, give +two in return." + +"That's true, and I'll say nothing more. I wish your friend well rid of +the rascally D'Anvers. Look after him, Jemmy. Come Polly--let us to your +mother." + +Both Spiller and Leveridge saw that Gay was not to be turned from his +resolution to help the girl, and presently she and her new found friend +were threading their way through a network of courts and alleys finally +emerging into the squalid thoroughfare between New Street and Chandos +Street. + +The dirt and the poverty-stricken aspect of the locality did not deter +the poet from his intention. Bedfordbury was not worse than St. Giles. +The girl led him to a shabby coffee shop from the interior of which +issued a hot and sickly air. + +"That's mother," she whispered when they were in the doorway. + +A buxom woman not too neatly dressed, whose apron bore traces of +miscellaneous kitchen work, scowled when her eyes lighted on her +daughter. + +"So you've come home, you lazy good-for-nothing hussy," she screamed. +"Where have you been? You don't care how hard I have to work so long as +you can go a pleasuring. There's plenty for you to do here. Set about +washing these plates if you don't want a trouncing." + +Mrs. Fenton was in a vile temper and Gay's heart somewhat failed at the +sight of her. Then he glanced at the girl and her frightened face gave +him courage. + +"Madame," said he advancing with a polite bow, "I should like with your +permission to have a few words with you in private. My business here +concerns your daughter in whom I take an interest." + +"Oh, and who may you be?" asked the woman ungraciously. + +"My name is Gay--John Gay--but I'll tell you more when we're alone." + +He cast a look around at the rough Covent Garden porters with which the +place was fairly full. One of the boxes was empty and Mrs. Fenton +pointed to it, at the same time ordering her daughter to go into the +kitchen and make herself useful. Then she flopped down opposite Gay, +separated from him by a table marked by innumerable rings left by coffee +mugs. + +Gay put forward his ideas and painted a glorious future for Lavinia. Her +mother did not seem particularly impressed. It was doubtful indeed if +she believed him. + +"You'll find the wench a handful. She's been no good to me. I'd as lieve +let her go her own way as keep her. A young 'oman with a pretty face +hasn't got no need to trouble about getting a living. Sooner or later +she'll give me the slip--but--well--if you takes her and makes a lady of +her what do I get out of it?" + +This was a view of the matter which had not occurred to the poet. He +felt decidedly embarrassed. His project appeared to be more costly than +he had at first imagined. + +"It is for the benefit of your daughter," he stammered. + +"Her benefit, indeed. Fiddle-de-dee! Your own you mean. I know what men +are. If she was an ugly slut you wouldn't take no notice of her. Don't +talk rubbish. What are you a going to give me for saying, yes. That's +business, mister. Come, how much?" + +The poet saw there was no other way but talking business. This +embarrassed him still more for he was the last man qualified to act in +such a capacity. + +"I'll see what I can do," said he nervously, "but you mustn't forget +that Lavinia will have to be quite two years at school, and there is her +music master----" + +"Oh I dare say," rejoined the lady scoffingly, "and the mantle maker, +and the milliner, and the glover, and the hairdresser. That's your +affair, not mine. Name a round sum and I'll try to meet you. What d'ye +say?" + +"Would five guineas----?" + +"What!" shrieked Lavinia's mother. "And you call yourself a gentleman?" + +"The sum I admit is a small one, but as you seemed anxious to get your +daughter off your hands I thought I was doing you a service by putting +the girl in a way to earn a good living." + +"I dare say. I'm not to be taken in like that. Fine words butter no +parsnips. While Lavinia's in the house I'll go bail I'll make her work. +If she goes away I've got to pay someone in her place, haven't I? Twenty +guineas is the very lowest I'll take, and if you was anything like the +gentleman you look you'd make it double." + +The haggling over such a matter and the coarse mercenary nature of the +woman jarred upon the poet's sensitive soul. The plain fact that he +hadn't got twenty guineas in the world could not be gainsaid. But he had +rich friends. If he could only interest them in this protégée of his +something might be done. And there were the "Fables." + +"Twenty guineas," he repeated. "Well, I'll do my best. In two days' +time, Mrs. Fenton, I will come and see you and most likely all will be +settled to your satisfaction." + +"Two days. Aye. No longer or maybe my price'll go up." + +"I shall not fail. Now, Mrs. Fenton, before I go I'd like to see Lavinia +once more." + +"No, this business is between you an' me, mister. The hussy's naught to +do with it. She'll have to behave herself while she's with me. That's +all I have to say about _her_." + +So Gay rose and walked out of the box feeling as though he'd been +through a severe drubbing. He might have been sufficiently disheartened +to shatter his castle in the air had he not seen Lavinia's big sorrowful +eyes fixed upon him from the kitchen. He dared not disobey her mother's +behest not to speak to her so he tried to smile encouragingly, and to +intimate by his expression that all was going well. Whether he succeeded +in so doing he was by no means sure. + +On leaving the coffee house Gay walked towards Charing Cross and thence +along the Haymarket to Piccadilly. His destination was Queensberry House +to the north of Burlington Gardens. Here lived Gay's good friends the +Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, and indeed Gay himself, save when he +was at Twickenham with Pope. + +At dinner that evening Gay broached the subject of the phenomenal singer +whom he had discovered in the streets of St. Giles and his scheme +concerning her. The duke laughed at the poet's visions, but the duchess +was fascinated. Anything of the unusual at once appealed to the +warmhearted, impulsive, somewhat eccentric, lady. Her enthusiasm where +she was interested always carried her away, and her impatience and +energy would not let her rest until her object was accomplished. + +"I would vastly like to hear Mr. Gay's pretty nightingale. You must +bring her to-morrow. I am dying to see if she is really the wonder you +pretend she is. You know that the best judge of a woman is another +woman. A man is apt to be partial." + +"And a woman to be prejudiced," said Gay smilingly. + +"Faith, Kitty," laughed the duke, "our poet has thee there." + +"I deny it. But we will discuss the question after we've seen the +paragon. When shall she come?" + +Gay for once was shrewd. + +"Not until we've settled with the mother. She's a harpy. If she knows +that your grace has anything to do with the affair she'll double her +price." + +"Why, our Gay is teaching us something," said the Duke banteringly. "He +is giving us a lesson in financial economy. Duchess, you must keep your +eye on the next post vacant in the Exchequer." + +"Pish!" retorted her grace. "Mr. Gay is only exercising commonsense. We +all of us have a little of that commodity. If we could only have it +handy when it's wanted how much better the world would be." + +Neither of the men disputed the lady's proposition, and the duchess +rising, left them to their wine. + +Armed with the twenty guineas, Gay presented himself the following day +at the Bedfordbury coffee house. Mrs. Fenton was still ungracious, but +the sight of the little pile of gold and the chink of the coins +mollified her humour. + +"Where and when are you going to take her?" she demanded. + +Gay had arranged a plan with the duchess and he replied promptly. + +"She will stay here for a few days while her wardrobe is being got +ready, then she is to go to Miss Pinwell's boarding school in Queen +Square." + +"Carry me out and bury me decent," ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "Then I'm to +be the mother of a fine lady, am I?" + +"I don't say that, but a clever one if I'm not mistaken." + +"Clever! Oh la! Much good will her cleverness do her. Clever! Aye in +always having a crowd o' sparks a dangling after her. That Miss +What's-her-name in Queen Square'll have to get up early to best Lavinia +when there's a man about." + +"A mother shouldn't say such ill-natured things of her own child," said +Gay reprovingly. "She's hardly a woman yet." + +"But she knows as much. Well, you've got your bargain. Make your best of +it. What about her clothes? She's but a rag-bag though it's no fault o' +mine. Pray who's going to buy her gowns, her hats, her petticoats, her +laces and frills. You?" + +"I? Bless me! no, woman. I know nothing about such things," rejoined Gay +colouring slightly. "I will send a woman who understands the business." + +"It's all one to me. Maybe you'd better tell your tale to Lavinia with +your own lips. I've done with her." + +"By all means. I should like to see her." + +Mrs. Fenton, whose eyes all the while had been gloating over the gold on +the table now swept it into her pocket. It was a windfall which had come +at the right moment. She was tired of Bedfordbury. She aimed at a step +higher. There was a coffee house business in the Old Bailey going cheap, +the twenty pounds would enable her to buy it. + +As for her daughter, she had no scruple about letting her go with a man +who was quite a stranger. The girl's future didn't trouble her. Since +Lavinia had entered her teens, mother and daughter had wrangled +incessantly. Lavinia was amiable enough, but constant snubbing had +roused a spirit which guided her according to her moods. Sometimes she +was full of defiance, at others she would run out of the house, and +ramble about the streets until she was dead tired. + +Lavinia was shrewd enough to discover why her mother did not want her at +home. Mrs. Fenton, still good-looking, was not averse to flirting with +the more presentable of her customers, and as Lavinia developed into +womanhood she became a serious rival to her mother, so on the whole, +Gay's proposition suited Mrs. Fenton admirably, and she certainly never +bothered to find out if he spoke the truth. She was not inclined to +accept his story of the boarding school as a stepping-stone to the +stage, but to pretend to believe it in a way quieted what little +conscience she possessed. If the scheme turned out badly, why, no one +could say _she_ was to blame. + +Lavinia, tremulous with excitement and looking prettier than ever, came +into the room where the poet was awaiting her. Her face fell when Gay +talked about the boarding school and of the possibility of her having to +remain there a long time, but she brightened up on his going on to say +that the period might be considerably shortened if she made a rapid +improvement. + +"And do you really think, sir, I shall ever be good enough to act in a +theatre like Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Oldfield, and--oh, and Mrs. +Bracegurdle?" cried the girl, her eyes blazing with anxious ambition. + +"I don't say you'll act like them. You'll act in your own way, and if +you work hard your own way will be good enough. If you succeed the +friends who are now helping you will be more than rewarded." + +"Ah, I will do anything to please you, sir." + +She caught his hand and impulsively raised it to her lips. + +Gay was a little embarrassed at this outburst. Did it mean that the girl +had fallen in love with him? He checked the rising thought. Yet there +was nothing outrageous in such a possibility. Lavinia was only sixteen, +it is true, and romantic sixteen might see nothing incongruous in +thirty-seven, which was Gay's age. + +"What pleases me, child, doesn't matter," he returned hastily. "I want +to see you please others--in the play house I mean." + +She looked at him wistfully. + +"But," he continued, "it will be time enough to talk of that when I see +how you get on. Now is it all settled? You're leaving this place and +your mother of your own free will--isn't that so?" + +Lavinia said nothing, but pinched her lips and nodded her head +vigorously. The action was sufficiently expressive and Gay was +satisfied. + +Three days went by. Her Grace of Queensberry's maid, a hard-faced +Scotswoman who was not to be intimidated nor betrayed into confidences, +superintended Lavinia's shopping and turned a deaf ear to Mrs. Fenton's +scoffs and innuendoes. + +The girl was transformed. Her new gowns, hats, aprons, and what not sent +her into high spirits and she bade her mother adieu with a light heart. + +"Go your own way, you ungrateful minx," was Mrs. Fenton's parting shot, +"and when you're tired of your fine gentleman or he's tired of you, +don't think you're coming back here 'cause I won't have you." + +Lavinia smiled triumphantly and tripped into the hackney coach that was +awaiting her. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"OH, MISTRESS MINE, WHERE ART THOU ROAMING?" + + +"Lavina! Have done!" + +It was a whispered entreaty. The victim of the feather of a quill pen +tickling her neck dared not raise her voice. Miss Pinwell, the +proprietress of the extremely genteel seminary for young ladies, Queen +Square--quite an aristocratic retreat some two hundred years ago--was +pacing the school-room. Her cold, sharp eyes roamed over the shapely +heads--black, golden, brown, auburn, flaxen--of some thirty girls--eager +to detect any sign of levity and prompt to inflict summary punishment. + +"Miss Fenton, why are you not working?" came the inquiry sharply from +Miss Pinwell's thin lips. + +Lavinia Fenton withdrew the instrument of torture and Priscilla +Coupland's neck was left in peace. It was done so swiftly that Miss +Pinwell's glance, keen as it was, never detected the movement. But the +lady had her suspicions nevertheless, and she marched with the erectness +of a grenadier to where Lavinia Fenton sat with her eyes fixed upon her +copy book, apparently absorbed in inscribing over and over again the +moral maxim at the top of the page, and, it may be hoped, engrafting it +on her mind. + +The young lady's industry did not deceive Miss Pinwell. Lavinia Fenton +was the black sheep--lamb perhaps is a more fitting word, she was but +seventeen--of the school. But somehow her peccadilloes were always +forgiven. She had a smile against which severity--even Miss +Pinwell's--was powerless. + +"What were you doing just now when you were not writing?" + +The head was slowly raised. The wealth of wavy brown hair fell back from +the broad smooth brow. The large limpid imploring eyes looked straight, +without a trace of guilt in them, at the thin-faced schoolmistress. The +beautiful mouth, the upper lip of which with its corners slightly +upturned was delightfully suggestive of a smile, quivered slightly but +not with fear, rather with suppressed amusement. + +"Nothing madam," was the demure reply. + +"Nothing? I don't believe you. Your hand was not on your book. Where was +it?" + +"Oh, _that_. Yes, a wasp was flying near us. I thought it was going to +settle on Priscilla Coupland's neck and I brushed it away with my pen." + +Miss Pinwell could say nothing to this, especially as she distinctly +heard at that moment the hum of some winged insect. It _was_ a wasp, a +real one, not the insect of Lavinia's fervid imagination. The windows +were open and it had found its way in from Lamb's Conduit Fields, at a +happy moment allying itself with Lavinia. + +Others heard it as well and sprang to their feet shrieking. The chance +of escaping from tiresome moral maxims was too good to be lost. + +"Young ladies----" commanded Miss Pinwell, but she could get no further. +Her voice was lost in the din. The lady no more loved wasps than did her +pupils. She retreated as the wasp advanced. The intruder ranged itself +on the side of the girls and circled towards their instructress with +malevolence in every turn and vicious intent in its buzz. + +The only one not afraid was Lavinia Fenton who, waving a pocket +handkerchief met the foe bravely but without success. The enemy refused +to turn tail. Other girls plucking up courage joined the champion and +soon the school-room was in a hubbub. Probably the army of hoydenish +maidens were not anxious the conflict should cease--it was far more +entertaining than maxims, arithmetic and working texts on samples--and +Miss Pinwell seeing this, summoned Bridget, the brawny housemaid, who +with a canvas apron finally caught and squashed the rash intruder. + +It was sometime before the excitement died down, and meanwhile Lavinia +Fenton's remissness of conduct was forgotten--indeed her intrepidity +singled her out for praise, which she received with becoming +graciousness. + +But before the day was out she relapsed into her bad ways. She could or +would do nothing right. Miss Pinwell chided her for carelessness, she +retorted saucily. As discipline had to be maintained she was at last +condemned to an hour with the backboard and there she sat in a corner of +the room on a high legged chair with a small and extremely uncomfortable +oval seat made still more uncomfortable by it sloping slightly forward. +As for the back, it was high and narrow. It afforded no rest for the +spine. The delinquent was compelled to sit perfectly upright. Thus it +was at the same time an instrument of correction and of deportment. + +Whatever bodily defects the early Georgian damsels possessed they +certainly had straight backs and level shoulders. The backboard was +admirable training for the carriage of the stately sacque, the graceful +flirting of the fan and for the dancing of the grave and dignified +minuet. + +The day was nearing its end. The hour for retiring was early, and at +dusk the head of each bedroom took her candle from the hall table and +after a low curtsy to the mistress of the establishment preceded those +who slept in the same room up the broad staircase. The maidens' +behaviour was highly decorous until they were safe in their respective +bed-chambers, when their tongues were unloosed. + +Oddly enough Lavinia, who was usually full of chatter, had to-night +little to say. Her schoolmates rallied her on her silent tongue. + +"Oh, don't bother me, Priscilla," she exclaimed pettishly. "I suppose I +can do as I like when Miss Pinwell isn't looking." + +"My dear, you generally do that when she _is_. I never saw such +favouritism. I declare it's not fair. You were terribly tormenting all +day. Anybody but you would have been sent to bed and kept on bread and +water. What's the matter with you, miss?" + +"Nothing. I'm tired, that's all." + +"First time in your life then. You were lively enough this afternoon +when you nearly got me into a scrape trying to make me laugh with your +tickling. It was as much as I could do to keep from screaming," +exclaimed Priscilla angrily. + +"Well, you can do your screaming now if it pleases you, so long as it +doesn't bring Miss Pinwell upstairs. Let me alone. I'm thinking about +something." + +"Some _one_, my dear, you mean," put in a tall fair girl, Grace Armitage +by name. "Confess now, isn't it the new curate at St. George's? He +seemed to have no eyes for any one but you last Sunday evening. How +cruel to disturb the poor man's thoughts." + +"Console yourself, Grace dear--_you're_ never likely to do that." + +The girls tittered at Lavinia's repartee. All knew that Grace Armitage +was the vainest of the vain and believed every man who cast his eyes in +her direction was in love with her. She went white with anger. But she +was slow witted. She had no sarcastic rejoinder ready and if she had it +was doubtful if she would have uttered it. Lavinia Fenton, the soul of +sweetness and amiability, could show resolute fight when roused. Miss +Armitage turned away with a disdainful toss of her head. + +The others knew this too, for they ceased to irritate Lavinia and +continued their talk among themselves. All the same, the principal +topic was Lavinia Fenton. She was so strangely unlike herself to-night. + +Half an hour later the room was in silence save for the whispering +between the occupants of those beds sufficiently close to each other to +permit this luxury. When the neighbouring clock of St. George's, +Bloomsbury, chimed half-past nine even these subdued sounds had ceased. + +At half-past ten the moon was at the full. The pale light streamed +through the small window panes and threw the shadows of the broad +framework lattice-wise on Lavinia's bed which was next the window. In +daylight she had but to lie on her right side and she could see across +the fields and the rising ground each side of the Fleet river to the +villages of Islington and Hornsey. + +Gradually the latticed shadow crept upwards. It at last reached +Lavinia's face. She was not asleep. Her eyes very wide open were staring +at the ceiling with a vague, wistful expression. She gave a long sigh, +her body twisted, and leaning on her right elbow, her left hand +insinuated itself beneath the pillow and drew forth a letter which she +held in the moonlight and read. Her forehead puckered as though she were +in doubt. Her steadfast eyes seemed to contradict the smile curving her +upper lip. The paper slipped from her limp fingers and she pondered, her +colour deepening the while. Nothing short of a love letter could have +caused that delightful blush. What she read was this:-- + + + "MY DEAREST LITTLE CHARMER,-- + + "My soul is full of expectancy. I can think of nothing but you--the + divinest being that ever tortured the heart of man. But the torture + is exquisite because I know when I fold you in my arms it will + change to bliss. You will keep your promise and meet me at the + 'Conduit Head' to-morrow midnight, will you not? I can scarce + contain myself with thinking of it. If you come not what remains + for me but death? Without you life is worthless. Come. My coach + will be in readiness and the parson waiting for us at the Fleet. + + "When we are married, as I've told you, my family cannot refuse to + receive my wife, but until we are made one they will do all they + can to keep us apart. My father insists upon my marrying a rich + city madam, but I'll none of her. I will only have you, my + beauteous Lavinia. I swear to you by all the gods that you shall be + back at school before dawn, as on the night of the dance when I + first saw my adorable divinity. No one will know but us two. It + will be a delicious secret. After I have seen you safely to Queen + Square and have parted from my dearest--it will be misery to bid + thee adieu--I shall ride post haste to my father and tell him + everything. He will at first be angry, but he will relent when he + sees your loveliness. We shall be forgiven and Heaven will be ours. + + "Panting with impatience, ever your most devoted humble servant, + + ARCHIBALD DORRIMORE." + + +Present taste would pronounce this effusion to be extravagant, +rhapsodical, high-flown, super-sentimental, but it did not read so to +Lavinia. It was in the fashion of the times--indeed it approached nearer +modern ideas than the majority of love letters of that day which +generally began with "Madam" without any endearing prefix. Lavinia liked +it none the less because it was not so formal as the letters which some +girls had shown her in all pride and secrecy. + +But it troubled her all the same. + +"I wonder if I really--really love him," she mused. "I suppose I do or I +shouldn't be continually thinking about him. But to be married--oh, +that's a different thing. Perhaps he'd want to live in the country. +That would be horribly dull, especially if he had to come to London +often. He hopes to be a great lawyer some day he says. I don't think I'd +like him in a wig and gown and white bands. He would look so horribly +old. Oh, but I wouldn't let him have his rooms in the Temple after we're +married. He'll have to burn his musty old books. He won't need them. His +father's very rich. He's told me so hundreds of times." + +A half dozen times would have been nearer the mark and this would +probably represent the number of their meetings, once at a ball at +Sadler's Wells Gardens and afterwards at stolen opportunities which the +ingenious Lavinia contrived to bring about. + +To tell the honest truth, Lavinia's gallant Archibald Dorrimore, the +young Templar, served only to amuse the young lady. She was not blind to +the fact that he was a fop and not blessed with too much brain. She had +seen many of his sort before and did not trust them. But Dorrimore +struck her as more sincere than the rest. Besides, he was very good +looking. + +Lavinia couldn't help having admirers. Nature should not have endowed +her with such alluring, innocent looking eyes, with so sweet a mouth. +She had always had some infatuated young man hovering about her even +when she was her mother's drudge at the coffee house in Bedfordbury. +Perhaps she inherited flirting from that buxom, good-looking mother who +had the reputation of knowing her way quite well where a man was +concerned. + +"Archibald Dorrimore will be _Sir_ Archibald some day," she mused. "It +would be rare to be called her ladyship. I can hear the footman saying: +'Your coach is waiting, my lady.' Lady Dorrimore--how well it sounds! +Archibald loves me...." + +May be this conviction settled the matter. The girl slid out of bed and +dressed herself hurriedly, though eleven o'clock had only just struck +and she had plenty of time. Perhaps she thought that if she hesitated +any longer she might alter her mind and not be married after all. + +Despite her haste she was not neglectful of herself. Now and again she +glanced at the little mirror over which the girls squabbled daily, +smoothed her rebellious hair and settled the Nithsdale hood of her cloak +coquettishly. Then she noiselessly crept from the room, flitted down the +staircase and was at the hall door shooting back its heavy +bolts--fortunately always kept well greased--and lifting the massive +chain which stretched across the centre. Street doors were well guarded +and ground floor windows barred in those days, and not without reason. + +The moon was still shining brightly and Lavinia drew her hood closer +over her face, though there was little need, for the fields were +deserted. She turned to the east, keeping in the shadow, slight as it +was, of the school garden wall. When the "Conduit Head" at the top of +Red Lion Street (the northern end now known as Lamb's Conduit Street) +was reached she paused and her heart went pit-a-pat. If Dorrimore should +not be there! + +She stopped, overcome by sudden scruples. In a flash her life at the +school, its monotony and discipline, the irksomeness of regular work, +rose before her! She had been some months at Miss Pinwell's +establishment and her restless soul pined for a change. Though she +looked back to her vagabond life in the streets with a shudder, she +yearned for its freedom, but without its degradations. + +The step she was about to take, so she persuaded herself, meant freedom, +but it also meant ingratitude towards Gay and the duchess. For the +latter's opinion she did not care much. The imperious manner of her +grace was not to her taste. But Mr. Gay--that was a different thing. She +looked upon Gay as a father--of her own father she had but a shadowy +recollection--though sometimes she thought she detected in him signs of +a warmer affection than that which a father usually bestows on a +daughter. She did not want this. She liked his visits. She was glad to +have his praise. She laughed when he persisted in calling her Polly--why +she knew not--but she was sure she could never endure his making love to +her. + +In her heart of hearts she was afraid of this. The dread had much to do +with her encouragement of Dorrimore. Of course if she married it would +mean an estrangement between her and Gay and his powerful friends, and +most likely the end of her ambition to be a great actress. Her mind had +long been torn, and at the eleventh hour when she was on her way to meet +her fate in Dorrimore she still hesitated. If she really loved Dorrimore +there would have been no hesitation. But she had never met any man who +did more than flatter her and gratify the pleasure she felt at being +admired. + +Her decision was in the balance. The weight of a feather would turn the +scale one way or another. The feather came in the shape of Dorrimore +himself. There he was in three cornered hat and cloak, his powdered wig +white in the moonlight, pacing up and down, his hand resting on his +sword hilt. He caught sight of the shrinking figure in the shadow and +the hat was doffed in a profound bow. Undoubtedly a good looking young +man, but as undoubtedly a fop of the first water with his ruffles and +bosom of Mechlin lace, red heels to his shoes, gold clocks on his silk +stockings and the whiff of scent which heralded his coming. + +When near enough his arm went round her and he drew back her hood. He +kissed her closely, so closely indeed that his ardour almost frightened +her, though she knew not why. He withdrew his lips and gazed into her +face, his own paling under the violence of his passion. + +"Dearest Lavinia," he murmured. "You are the loveliest creature in the +world and I protest I am the luckiest of men. Have you no words of love +for me? Why so silent?" + +She had not uttered a word. The rise and fall of her bosom showed her +agitation. + +"I'm here. I'm here. Isn't that enough?" she faltered. + +"Faith you're right, sweetheart. Then let us waste no time. My coach is +yonder." + +He slid her arm within his and drew her forward. He was not unconscious +of a certain reluctance in her movements and a shyness in her manner, +but he put both down to maiden modesty. Her restraint made her all the +more enchanting and he quickened his pace. She was compelled to +accommodate her steps to his, but she did so unwillingly. A sudden +distrust whether of him or of herself she could not quite determine--had +seized her. She was repenting her rashness. She would have run from him +back to the school but that he held her too tightly. Within another +minute they had reached the heavy lumbering coach. + +The coachman had seen them coming and descended from his box to open the +door. He was a big fellow who held himself erect like a soldier. His +swarthy complexion had a patch of purplish bloom spreading itself over +the cheek bones which told of constant tavern lounging. A pair of hawk's +eyes gleamed from under bushy beetling brows; wide loose lips and a +truculent, pugnacious lower jaw completed the picture of a ruffian. + +Lavinia glanced at him and that glance was enough, it deepened her +distrust into repugnance. But she had no time to protest. She was +hurried into the coach, Dorrimore in fact lifting her inside bodily with +unnecessary violence for she was almost thrown into a corner of the back +seat. Dorrimore followed, turned, shut the door and almost immediately +the carriage moved. The coachman must have sprung to his box with the +quickness of a harlequin. The whip cracked and the horses broke into a +gallop. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"IF WE'RE NOT TO BE MARRIED TELL ME" + + +The rattle of the wheels over the loose, roughly laid cobble stones, and +the swaying carriage hung on leathers, forbade talking. Lavinia heard +her companion's voice but she did not know what he was saying. Not that +it mattered for she was in too much of a flutter to heed anything but +her own emotions, and these were so confused that they told her little. + +Then Dorrimore's arm stole round her waist. Well, this was not +unnatural. Would they not be soon man and wife? The puzzle was that she +had no feeling of response. She would rather that he did not embrace +her. She did not want to be noticed. Yet she could not find it in her +heart to be unkind, so she allowed him to draw her nearer, to let her +head droop on his shoulder. She tried to think it was pleasant to be so +loved and she lowered her eyelashes when he kissed her again and again. + +Two or three minutes of oblivion. The coach had raced down Red Lion +Street. It was in Holborn going eastwards and here the din and clatter +were heightened by the shouts of drunken roisterers. The overhanging +houses cast deep shadows and the coach was travelling in the gloom. It +was past midnight and the lamps hung at every tenth house were +extinguished. This was the rule. + +Then Lavinia became conscious that the carriage was going down hill. It +had passed Fetter Lane into which it should have turned and was +proceeding towards Holborn Bridge. Why was this? Fetter Lane led into +Fleet Street and so to the Fleet. Had the coachman misunderstood his +instructions? She wrenched herself free and looked out of the window. +She recognised St. Andrew's Church in Holborn Valley. She turned +swiftly and faced Dorrimore. The coach had crossed the bridge and had +commenced the steep ascent of Holborn Hill on the other side. The horses +had slackened their pace. The noise was less loud. + +"You said we were going to the Fleet, but we're not. Where are you +taking me?" + +"Don't trouble about such a trifle, darling little one," he cried gaily. +"Aren't you with me? What more do you want? Come, kiss me. Let us forget +everything but our two selves." + +He would have embraced her but she repulsed him angrily. + +"No. If you've altered your mind--if we're not to be married tell me so, +and I'll leave you to yourself," she cried agitatedly. + +"Leave me? And d'you think I'll let you go when you're looking handsomer +than ever? Faith, what d'you take me for? You dear fluttering little +Venus. Why, you're trembling? But hang me, it must be with joy as I am." + +Both his arms were round her. She struggled to free herself; pushed his +face away and panting, strove to reach the window, but he was strong and +prevented her. + +"I'll go no further with you," she cried. "Set me down at once or I'll +scream for help." + +"You pretty little fool. Much help you'll get here. Oh, you shall look +if you want to, but your wings must be clipped first." + +He gripped both her wrists and held them fast. Her frightened eyes +glanced through the window. She heard a confused thud of hoofs, now and +again the deep bellowing of cattle, in the distance dogs barking, +drivers yelling. She could see horned heads moving up and down. The +coach was now moving very slowly. It was surrounded by a drove of +bullocks from the Essex marshes going to Smithfield. + +"You see?" laughed Dorrimore. "D'you suppose I would set you down to be +tossed and gored by vulgar cattle. Why the sight of your red ribands +would send them mad, as it's nearly sent me." + +"I don't care. I'd rather be with them than with you. I hate you," she +screamed with tears in her voice. + +"Really? I'll warrant your hate'll turn to love before we part," he +jeered. "I'm not going to see you come to harm, so I shall hold your +pretty wrists tightly. How round and slender they are! So, you're my +prisoner." + +"I'm not and I won't be." + +Somehow she dragged her right wrist away and dealt him a smart blow on +his cheek. + +"You would fight, would you? What a little spitfire it is! No matter. I +love you all the better. For every smart you give me you shall be repaid +with a dozen kisses. If that isn't returning good for evil may I never +handle a dice box again. There, do as you like. Lay your white hand +again on my face. The bigger debt you run up the better." + +Despite his banter he was very savage and he flung her hands from him. +She at once laid hold of the strap to open the window. He burst into a +loud laugh. + +"So the bird would escape," said he mockingly. "I thought as much." + +She tugged at the strap but tugged in vain. The window refused to budge. +Then it flashed across her mind that it was all part of a plan. She was +to be trapped. The story of a Fleet marriage was a concoction to bait +the trap. She flung herself in the corner, turned her back upon her +captor and pulled her hood over her face. + +She knew that for the time being she was helpless. What was the good of +wasting her strength in struggles, her spirit in remonstrance and be +laughed at for her pains? So she sat sullenly and turned a deaf ear to +Dorrimore's triumphant endearments. + +That wrestle with the window strap had done one thing. It had told her +where she was. Lavinia knew her London well. Her rambles as a child had +not been confined to Charing Cross and St. Giles. She had often wandered +down to London Bridge. She loved the bustling life on the river; she +delighted in gazing into the shop windows of the quaint houses on the +bridge which to her youthful imagination seemed to be nodding at each +other, for so close were some that their projecting upper storeys nearly +touched. + +She decided in that confused glance of hers through the window that the +coach was nearing the extreme end of the Poultry. She recognised the +Poultry Compter with its grim entrance and wondered whether the coach +would go straight on to Cornhill and then turn northward towards +Finsbury Fields, or southward to London Bridge. + +For the moment all she thought of was her destination, and when she was +able without attracting her companion's, attention again to peep out of +the window she saw the coach was at the foot of London Bridge. The +driver had been compelled to walk his horses, so narrow and so dark was +the passage way. + +The nightbirds of London were on their rambles looking out for prey; the +bridge was thronged. The people for the most part were half drunk--they +were the scourings from the low taverns in the Southwark Mint. Lavinia +had been revolving a plan of escape, but to launch herself among an +unruly mob ready for any devilry might be worse than remaining where she +was. But in spite of all that she did not cease to think about her plan +and watched for an opportunity when the worst of the rabble should have +passed. + +Suddenly the coach came to a standstill. Shouts and oaths--more of the +latter than the former--were heard, and Dorrimore after fretting and +fuming lowered the window on his side and put out his head. + +"What the devil's hindering you?" he demanded angrily, of the coachman. + +"That monstrously clumsy waggon; the stubborn knave of a waggoner has +gotten the middle of the road and there he sticks. He'll draw neither to +the left or the right. I've a mind to get down and baste the surly +bumpkin's hide." + +"Don't be a fool. Keep where you are. We must wait. Speak him fair." + +Two things struck Lavinia. One was the open window. Evidently Dorrimore +had thought it only necessary to secure one window--that on the side +where she was sitting. If she were on the opposite side how easy to slip +her hand through the opening and turn the handle of the door. But this +was impossible. She could not hope to succeed. + +The other thing which fixed itself in her mind was the familiar tone of +the coachman towards Dorrimore. It was more that of an equal than of a +menial. This impression confirmed her suspicion that she was trapped. +Dorrimore had doubtless enlisted the services of a confidential friend +rather than trust to a servant whose blabbing tongue might serve to +betray him. + +Meanwhile Dorrimore's head was still out of the window. He was calling +to the waggoner and offering him a crown to pull his horses and load to +one side, but it was no easy task to move the gigantic lumbering wain +with its tilt as big as a haystack and its wheels a foot thick. Lavinia +had her eyes fixed at the window on her side, intent on watching a +little group of persons who were curious to see the result of the +deadlock. They were quietly disposed apparently. + +Swiftly she bent down, slipped off one of her high heeled shoes and +straightened her body. The next moment there was the crash of broken +glass. She had struck the window with the heel of her shoe and had +thrust her hand through the jagged hole, turned the handle, opened the +door and had jumped out. Dorrimore, intent upon parleying with the +waggoner, had either not heard the smash or had attributed the cause to +anything but the real one. + +The group were startled by the flying figure. In her haste and agitation +she had stumbled on alighting and would have fallen but for a man who +caught her. + +"S'death madam, are you hurt?" she heard him say. + +"No, no. For Heaven's sake don't stay me. I'm in great danger. I'm +running from an enemy. Oh, let me go--let me go!" + +"But you're wounded. See." + +Blood was on her arm. A drop or two had fallen on the man's ruffles. She +had cut herself in her wild thrust through the jagged hole in the door. + +"It's nothing," she breathed. "Oh, if you've any pity don't keep me." + +The man made no reply. He whipped out his handkerchief, tied it round +the cut and holding her arm tightly, forced a way through the crowd +towards the Southwark side of the bridge. + +He might have got her away unobserved had it not been for Dorrimore's +coachman. The fellow uttered a yell and leaving his horses to take care +of themselves leaped from the box. + +"A guinea to any one who stops that woman," he shouted. + +Lavinia and her companion had nearly reached the obstructive waggon. A +dozen persons or so were between them and the yelling coachman. If they +succeeded in passing the waggon there might be a chance of escaping in +the darkness. But the onlookers crowding between the obstruction and the +shops--there were in those days no pavements--were too much interested +in what was going on to move, and the two found themselves wedged in a +greasy, ragged mob. + +Then came a rush from behind by those eager to earn a guinea and things +became worse. The girl, helped by the young man--she had seen enough of +him to know that he was both young and good-looking--urged her way +through the crowd, and those in front, seeing she looked like a +gentlewoman and knowing nothing of the guinea offered for her capture +stood back and she passed through. At that moment she felt her +companion's grasp relax. Then his fingers slipped from her arm. Some one +had struck him. + +"Run to the stairs and take a boat," he whispered. "Perhaps you haven't +any money. Here's my purse," and he pushed it into her hand. + +"No, I won't have it," she faltered. + +"You must. Quick! Fly!" + +"But what of you?" + +"I shall stay here, face the mob and give you time to get away." + +She would have refused. She would have remained with her champion, but +the swaying mob ordered otherwise. She found herself separated from him +and carried onward whether she would or not. She was terribly frightened +and knew not what to do. Hoarse shouts pursued her; she heard the sound +of blows. Somehow no one seemed to notice her. Probably the fighting was +more to their taste. Suddenly she found herself alone. The archway +called the Traitors' Gate which then formed the entrance to the bridge +from the Surrey side was behind her. Crowds were pouring through the +Gate eager to see what the rumpus was about or to take part in it on the +chance of plunder, and they did not heed the shrinking figure in the +deep doorway of a house close to the bridge. + +Lavinia was torn with anxiety. The young man whose purse she was holding +tightly--how was he faring? She could not help him by staying. Dorrimore +and Dorrimore's coachman with the guinea he had offered for her capture +had to be thought of. Her danger was by no means over. The roadway was +comparatively clear. Now was her chance if she was ever to have one. +She stole from the doorway; the stairs leading to the river were close +at hand and down these she sped. + +The tide was at low ebb. She was standing on the shingle. But she looked +in vain for a waterman. There were plenty of boats on the river, most of +them loaded with merry parties returning from Spring Gardens, Vauxhall, +and no boats were plying for hire. She dared not ascend to the Borough. +Bullies and thieves abounded in the southern approaches to the bridge. +She crept down to one of the abutments of the bridge and tremulously +listened to the turmoil going on above. + +Meanwhile the man who had come to her rescue was being hardly pressed. +He was surrounded by a mob led by Dorrimore's coachman. It was not the +leader who had struck the blow which made him lose his hold of Lavinia's +arm, but one of the mob for no motive other than a love for brutality. +The coachman had forced his way to the front a minute or so afterwards. +Almost at the same time a stone hit Lavinia's champion in the cheek, +cutting it and drawing blood. + +"Cowards!" he shouted. "If you're for fighting at least fight fair. Who +did that?" and he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. + +"At your service, sir. Give me the credit of it. Captain Jeremy Rofflash +isn't the man to let the chance of a little pretty sword play go by." + +The speaker was the man who acted as Dorrimore's coachman. He was every +inch a braggadocio. There were many such who had been with Marlborough +and had returned to their native country to earn their living by their +wits and by hiring out their swords. + +The fellow who called himself Jeremy Rofflash had not time to draw his +sword; the fist of the man he had thought to frighten had shot out swift +as an arrow, catching him between the eyes and tumbling him backwards. + +At the sight of the young gallant's spirit a number of the mob +instantly ranged themselves on his side. Others came on like infuriated +animals on the off chance of Captain Jeremy Rofflash rewarding them for +their services. + +"You'd better show these ruffians a clean pair of heels," whispered a +friendly voice in the young man's ear. "To Winchester Stairs--now's your +chance before yonder bully's on his feet." + +It was good advice and Lancelot Vane, the young man, budding poet and +playwright, who had found himself involved in a dangerous squabble, +which might mean his death, over a girl whom he had only seen for a few +minutes, had the sense to take it. But it was no easy task to extricate +himself. A burly ruffian was approaching him with arm uplifted and +whirling a bludgeon. Vane caught the fellow a blow in the waist and he +immediately collapsed. Before the prostrate man could get his wind, Vane +darted through the Traitors' Gate and racing towards the Borough with a +score or so of the rabble after him, darted into the first opening he +came to. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"MANY A MAN WOULD GIVE A HANDFUL OF GUINEAS FOR A KISS FROM SALLY +SALISBURY" + + +The fugitive found himself in a narrow ill-smelling, vilely paved alley +to the east of the Borough. Tall, ugly, dirty houses bordered it on each +side, a thick greasy mud covered the uneven stones. Dimly he was +conscious of the sound of a window being opened here and there, of +hoarse shouts and shrill screams, of shadowy beings who doubtless were +men and women but who were more like ghosts than creatures of flesh and +blood. + +But no one molested him. This might be explained by the fact that those +who saw him running took him to be some criminal fleeing from justice to +take sanctuary in the Southwark slums, an impression quite sufficient to +ensure their sympathy. At least, this was what at first happened. +Afterwards the mob took it into their heads to pursue him and for no +particular reason save devilry. + +The seething crowd poured into the narrow alley. Like a hunted deer the +young man ran up one court and down another, stumbling now and again +half from exhaustion and half from the greasy mud covered stones. He +could hear his pursuers coming nearer and nearer, but his strength was +gone. He dragged himself a few steps further and staggered into a +doorway, sinking on the steps in an almost fainting condition. + +The next moment the door behind him opened, a hand gripped his shoulder +and a woman's voice whispered:-- + +"Come inside. Make haste before you're seen." + +The young man raised his head. He was dimly conscious of a handsome +face, of a pair of bold eyes staring into his. + +"Come. Why are you waiting? Do you want to be murdered?" she cried +imperiously. + +He struggled to his feet and she dragged him into the passage and closed +the door. Scarcely had she done so when the clatter of feet and a +confused sound of voices told that his pursuers were approaching. Had +they tracked him to the house? The point was at once settled by a loud +hammering at the door. + +The woman half turned her head and cast a scornful look over her +shoulder. + +"Knock away, you devils. You won't break those panels in a hurry. For +all that, the place isn't safe for you, Mr. Vane." + +"What, you know me?" + +She laughed. Her laughter was loud rather than musical. + +"Haven't I seen you with many a merry party at Spring Gardens? Don't you +remember that mad night when one of your friends was full of wine? +Didn't I cut off the end of his periwig and throw it to the mob to be +scrambled for?" + +Lancelot Vane's pale face flushed slightly. He hadn't a very precise +recollection of what had happened on that night of frolic and revelry. +Like the rest he had had his bottle or two. The full blooded handsome +woman whom nothing abashed, who could take her liquor like a man, whose +beauty fired the souls of the gallants hovering about her wrangling for +her smiles, was part of the confused picture that had remained in his +memory. He had some vague remembrance of having kissed her or that she +had kissed him--it didn't matter which it was, nothing mattered very +much when the wine was in and the wit was out. + +Yet now when both were sober and her round, plump arm was round his +shoulders on the plea of supporting him he felt embarrassed, ashamed. + +"I thank you, madam, for your help," he said hurriedly. "But I won't +bring trouble upon you. Those rascals are still clamouring for my +blood--why I know not--and if they once burst into the house you'll +suffer." + +"They won't frighten me, but I wouldn't have you come to harm. There's a +way of escape. I'll show it you." + +With her arm still round him though there was no necessity for his +strength was gradually returning, she led him up the first flight--some +half dozen steps--of a narrow staircase to a small window which she +threw open. + +"That's the Black Ditch. It leads to the river and is fairly dry now +that the tide is out. You can easily find your way to Tooley Street." + +"Thanks--thanks," he murmured. + +He clambered on to the window sill and gradually lowered himself. While +his head, slightly thrown back, was above the sill she bent down swiftly +and kissed him full on the lips. + +"Many a man would give a handful of guineas for a kiss from Sally +Salisbury. You shall have one for nothing. It mayn't bring you luck, but +what of that?" + +He let go his hold, alighted safely on his feet and ran along the ditch, +every nerve quivering in a tumult of emotion, and with Sally Salisbury's +strident, reckless laugh ringing in his ears. + +Sally leaned her elbows on the sill and craning her head watched the +receding figure of the young man. Then she straightened her body and +walked leisurely from the room into one at the front of the house on the +first floor. The hammering at the entrance door had never ceased. She +threw open the window and looked down upon the swaying crowd. + +"What do you want?" she called out. + +"The man you're hiding," was the reply in a hoarse voice. + +"You lie. There's no man here." + +"No man where Mistress Sally Salisbury is? Ho-ho!" + +She knew the voice. It was that of Captain Jeremy Rofflash. + +Seizing a lamp Sally Salisbury ran down the stairs and opened the door. +Holding the lamp high over her head the light fell with striking effect +upon her luxuriant yellow hair clustering down upon a neck and shoulders +that Juno might have envied. The resemblance did not stop here. Juno in +anger could have found her double in Sally Salisbury at that moment. +Evidently the visitor was unwelcome. + +"What does this silly masquerade mean?" she demanded, her eyes roaming +over the coachman's livery in high displeasure. "Have you turned over a +new leaf and gone into honest service?" + +"Honest service be damned! Honesty doesn't belong to me or to you +either, Sally. Where's the man I'm looking for? I twigged the fellow +just as you shut the door upon him." + +"Did you? Then you're welcome to go on looking." + +He strode in, muttering oaths. When the door was closed he turned upon +her. + +"Hang me, Sally, if I know what your game is in sheltering this spark. +Anyhow you wouldn't do it if you didn't see your way to some coin out of +him." + +"I don't, so shut up your sauce." + +"More fool you then. Look here, Sal. I've got hold of a cull or I +shouldn't be in this lackey's coat. The fool's bursting with gold and he +wants someone to help him to spend it. I'll be hanged if there's another +woman in London like you for that fun. Now's your chance. He's sweet on +a wench--a raw boarding school miss--he ran off with her an hour or so +ago. The little fool thought she was going to be married by a Fleet +parson, but somehow she took fright and jumped out of the coach on +London Bridge. How the devil she did it beats me, though to be sure when +one of your sex makes up her mind to anything she'll do it and damme, I +believe Beelzebub helps her. Now then----" + +"What's this gabble to do with me?" broke in Sally, disdainfully. + +"Wait a minute. The wench had a friend in the crowd--a man who got her +away--damn him. I jumped from the coach and we had a set to. See this?" + +Scowling ferociously Rofflash pointed to a lump beneath his eye which +promised to become a beautiful mouse on the morrow. + +"The jackanapes got me on the hop; my foot slipped and s'life, I was +down. But for that I'd ha' spitted him like a partridge. By the time I +was on my legs the mob were after him. I joined in the hue and cry and +we ran him down to your house. Now then, where's his hiding hole? It'll +mean a matter o' twenty guineas in your pocket to give him up." + +"Blood money! I don't earn my living that way. You could have spared +your breath, Rofflash. The man's not here. I'll show you how he escaped. +Come this way." + +Sally led the fellow to the window overlooking the Black Ditch and told +him the story. + +"Are you bamboozling me, you jade?" growled Rofflash. "It would be like +you." + +"I daresay it would if it were worth my while but it isn't. Look for +yourself. Can't you see the deep foot-prints in the mud?" + +The waning moon gave sufficient light to show the black slimy surface of +the ditch. An irregularly shaped hole immediately below the window +showed where Vane had alighted. Footprints distinct enough indicated the +direction taken. + +"If you're not satisfied search the house." + +"I'll take your word. Who's your friend? You wouldn't lift your little +finger to save a stranger." + +"Who's the girl?" Sally parried in a flash. "What's she like?" + +Rofflash had sharp wits. Cunning was part of his trade. + +"Ho ho," he thought. "Sits the wind in that quarter? I'll steer +accordingly." + +"The girl? As tempting as Venus and a good deal livelier, I'll swear. +'Faith, she's one worth fighting for. I'll do her gallant justice. If +he's as handy with his blade as he is with his fists he'll be a pretty +swordsman. He'll need all he knows, though," added Rofflash darkly, +"when I meet him." + +"Yes, when!" echoed Sally sarcastically. "You'll get no help from me." + +"What! Sally Salisbury handing over the man she fancies to another +woman? Is the world coming to an end?" + +Rofflash burst into a jeering laugh. It irritated Sally beyond endurance +as he intended it should. But it did not provoke the reply he hoped for. + +"Mind your own business," she snapped. + +"Why, that's what I'm doing and _my_ business is _yours_. But if you're +fool enough to chuck away a handful of guineas, why do it. All I can say +is that _my_ man would give you anything you like to ask if you'd open +your mouth and tell him where _your_ man is." + +"Then I won't. That's my answer, Jeremy Rofflash. Put it in your pipe +and smoke it." + +Rofflash made her a profound bow and smiled mockingly. + +"Have your own way, mistress. What about this? Something more in your +line, I'll warrant." + +He thrust his hand beneath the upper part of his long flapped waistcoat +and drew out a necklace. The pearls of which it was composed were +suffused with a pinkish tinge, the massive gold clasp gleamed in the +lamplight. Sally's eyes flashed momentarily and then became scornful. + +"I'm not going to be bribed by _that_ either," she cried. + +"Wait till you're asked, my dear. This is my business alone. It has +nought to do with t'other. A week ago these pearls were round the fair +neck of my Lady Wendover. I encountered her in her coach on the Bath +Road near Maidenhead Thicket--my favourite trysting place with foolish +dames who travel with their trinkets and fal-lals. At the sight of my +barkers her ladyship screamed and fainted. This made things as easy as +an old glove. Click! and the necklace was in my pocket and I was +galloping back to Hounslow as if Old Nick himself was behind me." + +"Well, and what have your highway robberies to do with me?" + +"Just this, pretty one. My Lord Wendover's offered £1,000 reward for the +return of her Ladyship's jewels. I dursn't hand 'em about. I've no fancy +for the hangman's rope. But _you_ can get rid of them and no one be the +wiser." + +It was true. Sally had been very useful to Rofflash in disposing of some +of the trophies of his exploits on the Bath Road. The highwayman never +grumbled at whatever commission she chose to take and the arrangement +was to their mutual advantage. + +Sally took the pearls and stroked their smooth surfaces lovingly. + +"It's a shame to part with 'em." + +"Aye, they'd look brave on your neck, sweetheart." + +"No. I'm as loth to travel to Tyburn as you. Every fine woman of quality +knows the Wendover pearls. I'd be marked at the first ridotto or +masquerade I showed my face in. I'll do my best to turn 'em into money." + +"You're a jewel yourself, Sally. That's all I want. Adieu, mistress, and +good luck go with you." + +Rofflash swaggered out and as he made his way to the bridge he pondered +deeply over the mystery of woman. Here was Sally Salisbury, a "flaunting +extravagant quean," always over head and ears in debt, refusing a chance +to put money in her purse just because she had a fancy for a man who +maybe was as poor as a church mouse. Yet, as regarded men generally, +Sally was a daughter of the horseleech! + +"Humph," muttered Rofflash, "so much the better. The end on't is I +pocket Dorrimore's gold and no sharing out. If Sally likes to be a fool +'tis her affair and not mine. I've only got to keep my eye on her. What +a woman like her wants she'll get, even if it costs her her life. Sooner +or later, madam, you'll find your way to the fellow's lodgings, and +it'll go hard if I'm not on the spot too." + +By the time Rofflash was at the bridge the obstructing waggon had been +got out of the way. Dorrimore's coach was drawn to one side and +Dorrimore himself was striding impatiently up and down, occasionally +refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff and indulging in oaths more or +less elegant. + +"Where the devil have you been, Rofflash?" he cried, testily. "And where +the devil's the girl?" + +"She'll be safe in your hands shortly, Mr. Archibald, never fear." + +"What, have you got her?" + +"Not quite, but almost as good. The spark whose arms she jumped into is +her gallant, you may lay your life, and----" + +"By thunder, if that's so I'll--I'll run him through, I will, by God!" + +"Softly--softly. All in good time. By a bit of luck I came across a +friend who knows him and has engaged to run him to earth. It only means +a few guineas and I made free to promise him a purse. Within a week +you'll be face to face with your rival and you'll have your revenge." + +"To the devil with my revenge. It's the girl I want, you blundering +idiot." + +"And it's the girl you shall have, by gad. Can't you see, my good sir, +that when you clap your hands on the fellow you clap your hands on the +girl too?" + +"S'life! Do you mean to say she's with him?" + +"I'd go to a thousand deaths on that." + +"I'll not believe it. The girl's a pretty fool or I shouldn't have made +her sweet on me with so little trouble, but she's not that sort." + +"If she isn't, all I can say is that St. Giles and Drury Lane are the +places where innocent and unsuspecting maids are to be found. Ask Sally +Salisbury." + +"Damn Sally Salisbury," cried the fine gentleman in a fury. "D'ye think +I don't know gold from dross? I'll take my oath no man had touched the +lips of that coy little wench before mine did." + +"By all means keep to that belief, sir. It won't do you no harm. Now if +you'll take my advice you'll let me drive you to Moll King's and you'll +finish the night like a man of mettle and a gentleman." + +Dorrimore was in a morose and sullen mood. He wanted bracing up and he +adopted Rofflash's suggestion. The coach rattled to Mrs. King's +notorious tavern in Covent Garden, where thieves and scoundrels, the +very dregs of London, mingled with their betters; and amid a bestial +uproar, with the assistance of claret and Burgundy, to say nothing of +port "laced" with brandy on the one hand, and gin and porter on the +other, all differences in stations were forgotten and gentlemen and +footpads were on a level--dead drunk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER + + +A London night in the first quarter of the eighteenth century had very +little rest. Until long past midnight a noisy, lawless, drunken rabble +made the streets hideous. It was quite three o'clock, when as +physiologists tell us the vital forces are at their lowest, before it +could be said that the city was asleep. And that sleep did not last +long. Soon the creaking of market cart and waggon wheels, the shouts of +drovers and waggoners, tramping horses, bellowing cattle and bleating +sheep would dispel the stillness and proclaim the beginning of another +day. + +Business in the approaches to the markets was in full swing before four +o'clock. Carters and waggoners were thirsty and hungry souls and the +eating houses and saloop stalls were thronged. The Old Bailey, from its +nearness to Smithfield was crowded, and the buxom proprietress of +Fenton's coffee house was hard put to it to serve her clamorous +customers and to see that she wasn't cheated or robbed. + +Mrs. Fenton had improved in appearance as well as in circumstances since +she had come from Bedfordbury to the Old Bailey. She was a good-looking +woman of the fleshly type, with a bosom such as Rowlandson loved to +depict. She was high coloured, her eyes were deep blue, full and without +a trace of softness. Her lips were red and well shaped, her teeth white +and even. She was on the shady side of forty, but looked ten years +younger. Her customers admired her and loved to exchange a little coarse +badinage in which the good woman more than held her own. + +There was a Mr. Fenton somewhere in the world, but his wife was quite +indifferent to his existence. He might be in the West Indian plantations +or the hulks for what she cared. She had always gone her own way and +meant to do so to the end of her days. + +Apparently she was not in the best of tempers this morning. A drover who +attempted to jest with her was unmercifully snubbed, and so also was a +master butcher from Marylebone, who as a rule was received with favour. +But the lady was not in an ill temper with everybody--certainly not with +the stolid farmer-like man who was plodding his way through a rumpsteak +washed down by small beer. + +The coffee shop was divided into boxes and the farmer-like man was +seated in one near the door which opened into the kitchen. Mrs. Fenton +had constantly to pass in and out and his seat was conveniently placed +so as to permit her to bestow a smile upon him as she went by or to +exchange a hurried word. + +"The mistress is a bit sweet in that quarter, eh?" whispered a customer +with a jerk of the head and a wink to Hannah the waitress, whom Mrs. +Fenton had brought with her from Bedfordbury. + +"I should just think she was," returned the girl contemptuously. "It +makes one sick. She ought to be a done with sweetheartin'." + +"A woman's never too old for that, my girl, as you'll find when you're +her age. She might do worse. Dobson's got a tidy little purse put by. +There aren't many in the market as does better than him. He's brought up +twenty head o' cattle from his farm at Romford an' he'll sell 'em all +afore night--money down on the nail, mind ye. That'll buy Mistress +Fenton a few fallals if she's a mind for 'em." + +"An' if she's fool enough. Why, he isn't much more than half her years +and she with a grown up daughter too." + +"Aye. May be the gal 'ud be more a match for Dobson than her mother." + +"Don't you let my mistress hear you say that. Why she's that jealous of +Lavinia she could bite the girl's head off. My! Well I never!" + +Hannah started visibly and fixed her eyes on the entrance. + +"What's the matter, wench?" growled the man. + +"I don't believe in ghosts," returned the girl, paling a little and her +hands trembling in a fashion which rather belied her words, "or I'd say +as I'd just seen Miss Lavinia's sperrit look in at the door. If it isn't +her ghost it's her double." + +"Why don't you run outside and settle your mind?" + +"'Cause it's impossible it could be her. The girl's at boarding school." + +"What's that got to do with it? You go and see." + +Hannah hesitated, but at last plucked up her courage and went to the +door. She saw close to the wall some few yards away a somewhat +draggle-tail figure in cloak and hood. Within the hood was Lavinia's +face, though one would hardly recognise it as hers, so white, so drawn, +were the cheeks. + +"Saints alive, surely it isn't you, Miss Lavvy?" cried Hannah, clasping +her hands as she ran to the fugitive. + +"Indeed it is, worse luck. I'm in sad straits, Hannah. I wouldn't have +come here--I know what mother is--but I couldn't think what to do." + +"But good lord--the school--mercy on us child, they haven't turned you +out, have they?" + +"No, but they will if I go back. I dursn't do that. I couldn't get in. +I've been robbed of the key. It was inside my reticule that a rogue +snatched from my wrist on London Bridge." + +"London Bridge! Gracious! What mischief took 'ee there and at this time +o' the mornin'?" + +"I don't know," sighed the girl, half wearily, half pettishly. "I can't +tell you. Don't bother me any more. I'm tired to death. Take me inside +Hannah, or I'll drop. I suppose mother'll be in a fury when she sees me, +but it can't be helped. I don't think I care. It's nothing to do with +her." + +Hannah forebore pestering the girl with more questions and led her to +the open door. The waitress had been with Mrs. Fenton in the squalid +days of six months before at the Bedfordbury coffee shop and she well +knew how Lavinia was constantly getting into a scrape, not from +viciousness, but from pure recklessness and love of excitement. Her +mother's treatment of her "to cure her of her ways," as the lady put it, +was simply brutal. + +Hannah was not a little afraid of what would happen when Mrs. Fenton set +eyes on her wilful daughter. At the same time, Lavinia was not the same +girl who at Bedfordbury used to run wild, half clad and half starved, +and yet never looked like a beggar, so pretty and so attractive was she. +Six months had developed her into a woman and the training of Miss +Pinwell, the pink of gentility, had given her the modish airs of a lady +of quality. True, her appearance just now had little of this "quality," +her walk being in fact somewhat limping and one-sided. But there was +good reason for this defect. She had lost one of her high-heeled shoes, +that with which she had battered the coach window. + +In spite of her protest of not caring, Lavinia's heart went pit-a-pat +when she entered the hot, frowsy, greasy air of the coffee house. +Customers were clamouring to be served and there was no Hannah to wait +upon them. Mrs. Fenton, her eyes flashing fire, was bustling up and down +between the rows of boxes and denouncing the truant waitress in vigorous +Billingsgate. + +Mrs. Fenton had her back turned to the door when Hannah entered with +Lavinia and the two were half way down the gangway before the lady +noticed them. At the sight of her daughter she dropped the dish of eggs +and bacon she was about to deposit in front of a customer and stared +aghast. + +Every eye was turned upon Lavinia who, shaking herself free from +Hannah's friendly support, hastened towards her astonished mother, +anxious to avoid a scene under which in her shattered nerves she might +break down. + +"Devil fetch me," Mrs. Fenton ejaculated before she had recovered from +the shock. "Why, you hussy----" + +Lavinia did not wait to hear more. She brushed past her mother and then +her strength failing her for a moment, she clutched the back of the last +box to steady herself. + +This box was that in which Dobson, the young cattle dealer was seated. +Dobson was human. He fell instantly under the spell of those limpid, +imploring eyes, the tremulous lips, and he rose and proffered his seat. + +The act of courtesy was unfortunate. It accentuated Mrs. Fenton's rage. +Her heart was torn by jealousy. That Lavinia had shaken her head and +refused the seat made not the slightest difference. The girl had become +surpassingly handsome. Despite her fury Mrs. Fenton had eyes for this. +Her own daughter had attracted the notice of _her_ man! The offence was +unpardonable. + +Lavinia knew nothing about this. All she wanted was to escape +observation and she darted into the kitchen, Betty the cook receiving +her with open mouth. + +A narrow, ricketty staircase in a corner of the kitchen shut in by a +door which a stranger would take for that of a cupboard led to the upper +part of the house. Lavinia guessed as much. She darted to this door, +flung it open and ran up the creaking stairs just as her mother, shaking +with passion, entered and caught sight of her flying skirt. + +"Good laux, mistress," Betty was beginning, but she could get no +further. Mrs. Fenton jumped down her throat. + +"Hold your silly tongue. Don't talk to me. I--the smelling salts! Quick, +you slut, or I'll faint," screamed the lady. + +No one could look less like fainting than did Mrs. Fenton, and so Betty +thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself and fetched the restorer +at which her mistress vigorously sniffed, after sinking, seemingly +prostrate, into a chair. Then she fell to fanning her hot face with her +apron, now and again relieving her feelings with language quite +appropriate to the neighbourhood of the Old Bailey. + +Meanwhile Hannah wisely kept aloof and only went to the kitchen when +necessary to execute her customers' orders. Directly the fainting lady +inside saw the waitress she revived. + +"What's this about Lavinia? Tell me. Everything mind," she cried. + +"What I don't know I can't tell, mistress. Ask her yourself," returned +Hannah. + +"Don't try to bamboozle me. You _do_ know." + +"I say I don't. I found her outside more dead than alive, and I brought +her in. I wasn't going to let her be and all the scum of Newgate about." + +"Oh, that was it. And pray how did you come to learn she was outside?" + +"Because she'd looked in at the door a minute afore and was afeared to +come in 'cause of you, mistress. Give me that dish o' bacon, Betty. The +man who saw his breakfast tumbling on the floor is in a sad pother." + +This was a shot for Mrs. Fenton. Hannah rarely sought to have words with +her mistress, but when she did she stood up to her boldly. Mrs. Fenton +was discomfited and Hannah, snatching the dish Betty handed to her, +vanished to appease the hungry customer, leaving the angry woman to chew +over her wrath as best she might. + +Mrs. Fenton gradually cooled down. In half an hour's time the market +would be in full swing and most of her customers would be gone. Though +she was dying to know what had brought her daughter home, the story +would not spoil by keeping. Besides, though she was in a pet with +Dobson, she did not want to give him offence and she tried to make +amends for her angry outburst by bestowing upon him extra graciousness. + +Before long Hannah was quite able to attend single-handed to the few +lingerers, and Mrs. Fenton went upstairs, eager to empty her vial of +suppressed temper on "that chit," as she generally called Lavinia. + +She entered her own bedroom expecting to find the girl there, but +Lavinia had no fancy for invading her mother's domains and had gone into +the garret where Hannah slept. Dead with fatigue, mentally and bodily, +she had thrown herself dressed as she was on Hannah's bed and in a few +minutes was in a heavy sleep. But before doing so she slipped under the +bolster something she was holding in her left hand. It was the purse +forced upon her by Lancelot Vane. + +Mrs. Fenton stood for a minute or so looking at her daughter. She could +not deny that the girl was very pretty, but that prettiness gave her no +satisfaction. She felt instinctively that Lavinia was her rival. + +"The baggage is handsomer than I was at her age, and I wasn't a fright +either or the men wouldn't ha' been always dangling after me. With that +face she ought to get a rich husband, but I'll warrant she's a silly +little fool and doesn't know her value," muttered the lady, her hands on +her hips. + +Then her eyes travelled over the picturesque figure on the bed, noting +everything--the shoeless foot, the stockings wet to some inches above +the small ankles, the mud-stained skirt, the bedraggled cloak saturated +for quite a foot of its length. Her hair had lost its comb and had +fallen about her shoulders. Mrs. Fenton frowned as she saw these signs +of disorder. + +Then she caught sight of a piece of paper peeping from the bosom of the +girl's dress. The next instant she had gently drawn it out and was +reading it. The paper was Dorrimore's letter. + +"Of course, I knew there was a man at the bottom of the business. And a +marriage too. Hoity toity, that's another pair of shoes." + +She threw back a fold of the cloak, and scrutinised Lavinia's left hand. + +"No wedding ring!" she gasped. "I might ha' guessed as much. Oh, the +little fool! Why, she's worse than I was. _I_ wasn't to be taken in by +soft whispers and kisses--well--well--_well_!" + +The lady bumped herself into the nearest chair, breathed heavily and +smoothed her apron distractedly. Then she looked at the letter again. +Her glance went to the top of the sheet. + +"So, no address. That looks bad. Who's Archibald Dorrimore? May be that +isn't his right name. He's some worthless spark who's got hold of her +for his own amusement. Oh, the silly hussy! What could that prim +Mistress Pinwell have been about? A fine boarding school indeed! She +can't go back. But I won't have her here turning the heads of the men. +That dull lout, Bob Dobson, 'ud as lieve throw his money into her lap as +he'd swallow a mug of ale. What'll her fine friends do for her now? +Nothing. She's ruined herself. Well, I won't have her ruin me." + +Mrs. Fenton worked her fury to such a height that she could no longer +contain herself, and seizing her daughter's shoulder she shook her +violently. The girl's tired eyelids slowly lifted and she looked +vaguely into the angry face bending over her. + +"Tell me what all this means, you jade. What have you been up to? How is +it you're in such a state? Who's been making a fool of you? Who's this +Dorrimore? Are you married to him or not?" + +The good lady might have spared herself the trouble of pouring out this +torrent of questions. The last was really the only one that mattered. + +"Married? No, I'm not," said Lavinia drowsily. "Don't bother me, mother. +Let me sleep. I'll tell you everything, but not--not now. I'm too +tired." + +"Tell me everything? I should think you will or I'll know the reason +why. And it'll have to be the truth or I'll beat it out of you. Get up." + +There was no help for it. Lavinia knew her mother's temper when it was +roused. Slowly rubbing her eyes she sat up, a rueful and repentant +little beauty, but having withal an expression in her eyes which seemed +to suggest that she wasn't going to be brow-beaten without a struggle. + +"I ran away from school to be married," said she with a little pause +between each word. "I thought I was being taken to the Fleet, but when I +saw the coach wasn't going the right way I knew I was being tricked. On +London Bridge I broke the coach window, opened the door and escaped." + +"A parcel of lies! I don't believe one of 'em," interjected the irate +dame. + +"I can't help that. It's the truth all the same. I cut my arm with the +broken glass. Perhaps that'll convince you." + +Lavinia held out her bandaged arm. + +"No, it won't. What's become of your shoe?" + +"I took it off to break the window with the heel and afterwards lost +it." + +Mrs. Fenton was silent. If Lavinia were telling false-hoods she told +them remarkably well. She spoke without the slightest hesitation and the +story certainly hung together. + +"After I jumped from the coach I ran to the river, down the stairs at +the foot of the bridge. The water was low and I stood under the bridge +afraid to move. A terrible fight was going on above me. I don't know +what it was about. The shooting and yelling went on for a long time and +I dursn't stir. I would have taken a wherry but no waterman came near. +Then the tide turned; the water came about my feet and I crept up the +stairs. I was in the Borough, but I dursn't go far. The street was full +of drunken people and I crept into a doorway and hid there. I suppose I +looked like a beggar, for no one noticed me. Then when the streets were +quieter I came here." + +It will be noticed that Lavinia did not think it necessary to mention +the handsome young man who had rescued her. + +While she was recounting her adventures her mother, though listening +attentively, was also pondering over the possible consequences. The +story might be true or it might not, whichever it was did not matter. It +was good enough for the purpose she had in her mind. + +"Why didn't you go back to Miss Pinwell's?" Mrs. Fenton demanded +sharply. "I see by this scrawl that it isn't the first time you've +stolen out to meet this precious gallant of yours." + +And Mrs. Fenton, suddenly producing the letter which she had hitherto +concealed, waved it in her daughter's face. Lavinia flushed angrily and +burst out:-- + +"You'd no right to read that letter any more than you had to steal it." + +"Steal it? Tillyvalley! It's my duty to look after you and I'm going to +do it. Why didn't you go back to the school as you seem to have done +before?" + +"Because the key of the front door was in my reticule, and that was +snatched from me or it slipped from my wrist in the scuffle on the +bridge." + +"A pretty how de do, my young madam, upon my word. Miss Pinwell'll +never take you back. Goodness knows what may happen. What'll Mr. Gay, +who's been so good to you, think of your base ingratitude?" + +Lavinia's eyes filled with tears. She broke down when she thought of the +gentle, good-natured poet. She could only weep silently. + +Mrs. Fenton saw the sign of penitence with much satisfaction and while +twirling her wedding ring to assist her thoughts, suddenly said:-- + +"You haven't told me a word about this spark of yours. Who is he? What +is he? Some draper's 'prentice, I suppose, or footman, may be out of a +place for robbing his master and thinking of turning highwayman." + +"Nothing of the kind," cried Lavinia, furious that her mother should +think she would so bemean herself. "I hate him for his falseness, but +he's a born gentleman all the same." + +"Oh, is he? Let's hear all about him. There's no address on his letter. +Where does he live?" + +"I shan't tell you." + +"Because you're ashamed. I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't a trull's bully +from Lewknor's Lane or Whetstone Park. The rascals pass themselves off +as sparks of fashion at ridottos, masquerades and what not and live by +robbery and blood money. I warrant I'll soon run your fine gentleman to +earth. He talks about telling his father. Pooh! That was but to bait the +trap and you walked into it nicely." + +Her mother's insinuations maddened poor Lavinia. The mention of +Lewknor's Lane and Whetstone Park, two of the most infamous places in +London, was amply sufficient to break her spirit, which indeed was Mrs. +Fenton's intention. The worst of it was that after what had happened she +had in her secret heart come round to the same opinion so far as the +baiting of the trap was concerned. She was far too cast down to make +any reply and wept copiously, purely through injured pride and +humiliation. + +"You must leave me to deal with this business, child," said Mrs. Fenton +loftily. "If the young man really belongs to the quality and what he +writes about his father is true, then his father must be made to pay for +the injury his son's done you. I suppose he's told you who his father is +and where he lives, and _I_ want to know too. If I'm to get you out of +the mess you're in you must help me." + +"I won't," gasped Lavinia between her sobs. "I don't want to hear +anything more about him or his father either. I wish to forget both of +them." + +"Humph! That won't be so easy as you'll find, you stubborn little fool. +Keep your mouth shut if you like. I'll ferret out the truth without +you." + +And stuffing the letter into her capacious pocket, Mrs. Fenton stalked +out of the room and directly she was outside she turned the key in the +lock. Lavinia, too exhausted in body and too depressed in mind to think, +sobbed herself to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"I WISH I WERE A RICH LADY FOR YOUR SAKE" + + +Lavina awoke to find Hannah in the room. The maid had brought in a cup +of chocolate and something to eat. + +"I'm a dreadful sight, Hannah," said she dolefully. + +"You'll be better when you've had a wash and done your hair. Your +cloak's spoilt. What a pity! Take it off and let me brush away the mud +and see if I can smooth out the creases." + +Lavinia stretched herself, yawned and slowly pulled herself up, sitting +on the side of the bed for a minute or two before she commenced her +toilette. Hannah helped her to dress to the accompaniment of a running +commentary on the state of her clothing. + +"What am I to do about shoes?" asked Lavinia, when this part of her +wearing apparel was reached. + +"You won't be wanting any for a time I'm thinking, Miss Lavvy." + +"Not wanting any shoes? Whatever do you mean?" + +"Your mother means to lock you in this room for a while. She was for +keeping you for a day or two on bread and water, but I talked her out of +it." + +Lavinia started in dismay. Then she burst out:-- + +"I won't endure such treatment. I won't, Hannah! You'll help me to run +away, won't you?" + +"Not till I know what's going to become of you." + +"But if I'm a prisoner you're my gaoler and you can let me out whenever +you choose." + +"No I can't. I've to hand over the key to your mother." + +"So you can after I'm gone." + +"And what do you suppose I'm to say to her when that happens?" + +"Oh, what you like, Hannah. I don't believe you're afraid of anybody. +You're so brave," said Lavinia, coaxingly. + +"Well, well, we'll see. But I warn you, child, I'm not going to let you +come to harm." + +Lavinia laughed and shrugged her plump shoulders. After what she had +gone through the night before she felt she could face anything. She knew +she could talk over the good-natured Hannah and she heard the latter +lock the door without feeling much troubled. + +For all that Lavinia had a good deal to worry about, and she sat sipping +the chocolate while she pondered over what she should do. She could +think of no one she could go to besides Mr. Gay. How would he receive +her after her escapade? + +"He knows so many play actors," she murmured,--"didn't he say I had a +stage face? I wonder--I wonder." + +And still wondering she rose and straightened the bed. Shifting the +pillow she found beneath it the purse she had placed there before going +to sleep. Excitement and exhaustion had driven it out of her head. She +felt quite remorseful when the remembrance of the chivalrous young man +came into her mind. + +"Ah me," she sighed. "I'll warrant I'll never set eyes on him again. I +do hope he wasn't hurt." + +Lavinia looked at the purse wistfully. She had not had the opportunity +of seeing what it contained. It was of silk with a silver ring at each +end to keep the contents safe, and an opening between the rings. One end +had money in it, in the other a piece of paper crackled. She slipped the +ring at the money end over the opening and took out the coins--a guinea, +a crown and a shilling. + +"I don't like taking it. He gave it me to pay the waterman and I hadn't +the chance. It isn't mine. I ought to return it to him. But how can I? I +don't know where he lives. I don't even know his name." + +Then she fingered the other end. She slid the ring but hesitated to do +more. To look at the paper seemed like prying into the owner's affairs. +It must be something precious for him to carry it about with him. +Suppose it was a love letter from his sweetheart? She blushed at the +idea. Then curiosity was roused. Her fingers crept towards the papers, +for there were two. One ran thus:-- + + + "The Duke's Theatre, + "Lincoln's Inn Fields. + "SIR,-- + + "I have read your play and herewith return it. I doubt not it has + merit but it will not suit me. + + "I am your obedient humble servant, + + Lancelot Vane, Esq. "JOHN RICH." + + +"Poor fellow--so he writes plays. How aggravating to have such a rude +letter. 'Obedient--humble--servant,' forsooth! I hate that John Rich. +He's a bear." + +Then Lavinia unfolded the second letter. It was more depressing than the +first. + +"Lancelot Vane, 3, Fletcher's Court, Grub Street," Lavinia read; +"Sir,--I give you notiss that if you do nott pay me my nine weeks' rent +you owe me by twelve o'clock to-morrer I shall at wunce take possesshun +and have innstruckted the sheriff's offiser in ackordance therewith. +Yours respeckfully, Solomon Moggs." + +"Oh, a precious lot of respect indeed," cried Lavinia angrily. + +The date of the letter was that of the day before. The money had +consequently to be paid that very day and it was already past twelve +o'clock. If the poor young man could not pay he would at that moment be +homeless in the street and maybe arrested for debt and taken to the +Fleet or even Newgate. Hadn't she seen the poor starving debtors stretch +their hands through the "Debtors' door" in the Old Bailey and beg for +alms from the passers-by with which to purchase food? She pictured the +poor young man going through this humiliation and it made her shudder. +He was so handsome! + +And all for the want of a paltry twenty-seven shillings! Twenty-seven +shillings? Was not that the exact sum of money in the purse? + +"Oh, that must have been for his rent," cried Lavinia, clasping her +hands in great distress. "And he gave it to me!" + +She was overwhelmed. She must return the money at once. But how? She ran +to the door. It was locked sure enough. The window? Absurd. It looked +out upon a broad gutter and was three storeys from the street. If it +were possible to lower herself she certainly could not do so in the +daytime. And by nightfall it would be too late. She sat down on the +side of the bed, buried her face in her hands and abandoned herself to +despair. + +But this feeling did not last long. Lavinia sprang to her feet, flung +back her hair and secured it. Then she went once more to the window and +clambered out into the broad gutter. She hadn't any clear idea what to +do beyond taking stock of her surroundings. She looked over the parapet. +It seemed a fearful depth down to the roadway. Even if she had a rope it +was doubtful if she could lower herself. Besides, rarely at any hour +even at night was the Old Bailey free from traffic. She would have to +think of some other way. + +She crept along the gutter in front of the next house. Dirty curtains +hung at windows. There was no danger of her being seen even if the room +had any occupants. She crawled onward, feeling she was a sort of Jack +Sheppard whose daring escapes were still being talked about. + +At the next window Lavinia hesitated and stopped. This window had no +curtains. The grime of many months, maybe of years, obscured the glass. +One of the small panes was broken. Gathering courage she craned her head +and looked through the opening. The room was empty. The paper on the +walls hung in strips. There was a little hole in the ceiling through +which the daylight streamed. + +If the house should, like the room, be empty! The possibility opened up +all kinds of speculation in Lavinia's active brain. Why not explore the +premises? Up till now she had forgotten her lost shoe. To pursue her +investigations unsuitably dressed as she was would be absurd. Supposing +she had a chance of escaping into the street she must be properly +garbed. + +She did not give herself time to think but hastened back to Hannah's +room. She tried on all the shoes she could find. One pair was smaller +than the rest. She put on that for the left foot. It was a little too +large but near enough. Then she hurried on her hooded cloak and once +more tackled the gutter. She was able to reach the window catch by +putting her hand through the aperture in the broken pane. In a minute or +so she was in the room, flushed, panting, hopeful. + +A long, long time must have passed since that room had been swept. Flue +and dust had accumulated till they formed a soft covering of nearly a +quarter of an inch thick. A fusty, musty smell was in the room, in the +air of the staircase, everywhere. + +She feared that only the upper part of the house was uninhabited but it +was not so. The place was terribly neglected and dilapidated. Holes were +in the walls, some of the twisted oak stair-rails had been torn away, +patches of the ceiling had fallen. But Lavinia hardly noticed anything +as she flew down the stairs. The lock could not be opened from the +outside without the key, but inside the handle had but to be pushed back +and she was in the street. She pulled her hood well over her head and +hastened towards Ludgate Hill. It was not the nearest route to Grub +Street which she knew was somewhere near Moorfields, but she dared not +pass her mother's house. + +Lavinia knew more about London west of St. Paul's than she did east of +it, and she had to ask her way. Grub Street she found was outside the +city wall, many fragments of which were then standing, and she had to +pass through the Cripples Gate before she reached the squalid quarter +bordering Moor Fields westward, where distressed poets, scurrilous +pamphleteers, booksellers' hacks and literary ne'er-do-wells dragged out +an uncertain existence. + +Lavinia found Fletcher's Court to be a narrow passage with old houses +dating from Elizabethan times, whose projecting storeys were so close +together that at the top floor one could jump across to the opposite +side without much difficulty. With beating heart she entered the house, +the door of which was open. She met an old woman descending a rickety +tortuous staircase and stopped her. + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Vane lives here?" said she. + +"Well, he do an' he don't," squeaked the old dame. "Leastways he won't +be here much longer. He's a bein' turned out 'cause he can't pay his +rent, pore young gentleman. We're all sorry for him, so civil spoken and +nice to everybody, not a bit like some o' them scribblers as do nothing +but drink gin day an' night. Street's full of 'em. I can't make out what +they does for a livin'! Scholards they be most of 'em I'm told. Mr. +Vane's lodgin's on the top floor. You goes right up. That's old Sol +Moggs' squeak as you can hear. Don't 'ee be afeared of 'im, dearie." + +The old woman, who was laden with a big basket and a bundle, went out +and Lavinia with much misgiving ascended the stairs. She remembered the +name, Solomon Moggs. He was the landlord. If his nature was as harsh and +discordant as his voice poor Lancelot Vane was having an unpleasant +time. + +"Ill, are ye?" she heard Moggs shrieking. "I can't help that. I didn't +make you ill, did I? Maybe you was in a drunken brawl last night. It +looks like it with that bandage round your head. You scribbling gentry, +the whole bunch of ye, aren't much good. I don't see the use of you. Why +don't ye do some honest work and pay what you owes? I can't afford to +keep you for nothing. Stump up or out ye go neck and crop." + +Lavinia ran up the next flight. The landing at the top was low pitched +and dark. The only light was that which came from the open door of a +front room. In the doorway was a little man in a shabby coat which +reached down to his heels. His wig was frowsy, his three-cornered hat +was out of shape and he held a big stick with which he every now and +then thumped the floor to emphasise his words. + +Beyond this unpleasant figure she could see a small untidy room with a +sloping roof. The floor, the chairs--not common ones but of the early +Queen Anne fashion with leathern seats--an old escritoire, were strewn +with papers. The occupant and owner was invisible. But she could hear +his voice. He was remonstrating with the little man in the doorway. + +Lavinia touched the man on the shoulder. He turned, stared and seeing +only a pretty girl favoured her with a leer. + +"How much does Mr. Vane owe you?" said Lavinia, chinking the coins. + +"Eh, my dear? Are you going to pay his debt? Lucky young man. Nine weeks +at three shillings a week comes to twenty-seven shillings. There ought +to be a bit for the lawyer who wrote the notice to quit. But I'll let +you off that because of your pretty face." + +Lavinia counted the money into the grimy outstretched paw. Moggs' face +wrinkled into a smirk. + +"Much obleeged, my young madam. I'll wager as the spark you've saved +from being turned into the street'll thank you more to your liking than +an old fellow like me could." + +Solomon Moggs made a low bow and was turning away when Lancelot Vane +suddenly appeared. His face was very pallid and he clutched the door to +steady himself. What with his evident weakness and his bandaged head he +presented rather a pitiable picture. + +"What's all this?" he demanded. "I'm not going to take your money, +madam." + +"It's not mine," cried Lavinia in a rather disappointed tone. She could +see he did not remember her. + +"Faith an' that's gospel truth," chuckled Moggs. "It's mine and it's not +going into anybody else's pocket." And he hastily shuffled down the +staircase. + +Lavinia turned to Vane a little ruffled. + +"You don't recollect me," she said. "The money's ours. I didn't want it +but you did and so I brought it back. I'm so glad I was in time and +that you're rid of that horrid man." + +Lancelot Vane stared fixedly at her. The events of the night before were +mixed up in his mind and he had but a dim remembrance of the girl's +face. Indeed he had caught only a momentary glimpse of it. + +"Was it you, madam, who were pursued by those ruffians?" he stammered. +"I'm grateful that you've come to no harm." + +"Oh, it was all your doing," cried Lavinia, eagerly, "you were so brave +and kind. I was too frightened last night to think of anything but +getting away and I didn't thank you. I want to do so now." + +"No, no. It's you who should be thanked. Don't stand there, pray. Do +come inside. It's a frightfully dirty room but it's the best I have." + +"But I--I must get back." + +"You're in no hurry, I hope. I've so much I would like to say to you." + +"What can you have? We're such strangers," she protested. + +"Just now we are perhaps, but every minute we talk together makes us +less so. Please enter." + +His voice was so entreating, his manner so deferential, she could not +resist. She ventured within a few steps and while he cleared a chair +from its books and papers her eyes wandered round. One end of the room +was curtained off and the opening between the curtains revealed a bed. +The furniture was not what one would expect to find in a garret. It was +good and solid but undusted and the upholstery was faded. The general +appearance was higgledy-piggledy--hand to mouth domesticity mixed up +with the work by which the young man earned, or tried to earn, his +living. No signs of a woman's neatness and touches of decoration could +be seen. + +Lavinia's glances went to the owner of the garret. After all it was only +he who was of real interest. She noticed the difficulty he had in +lifting a big folio from the chair. He could hardly use his right arm. +She saw his hollow cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. She +hadn't spent years in the streets amongst the poorest not to know that +his wistful look meant want of food--starvation may be. + +"Won't you sit down?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"This belongs to you," she said, holding out his purse. "I'm so sorry +it's empty." + +"I'm sorry too. You haven't spent a farthing on yourself and I meant it +all for you." + +"It was very foolish when you wanted money so badly." + +"That doesn't matter. You wouldn't have been here now if I hadn't given +it you." + +Her eyes lighted up. The same thought had crossed her mind. + +"How did you know I lived here?" he went on. + +"Well I--I opened the other end of the purse and read what was on the +papers inside. It was very wrong. You'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"I'd forgive you anything. You descended upon me like an angel. Not many +young ladies of your station would have had the courage to set foot in +Grub Street." + +A smile trembled on Lavinia's tempting lips. + +"My station? What then do you think is my station?" + +"How can I tell? I take you to be a lady, madam. I don't want to know +any more." + +At this Lavinia laughed outright. Her clothes were of good quality and +of fashionable cut--the Duchess of Queensberry's maid had seen to +that--her manner and air were those of a lady of quality--thanks to Miss +Pinwell--but apart from these externals what was she? A coffee shop +waitress--a strolling singer--a waif and stray whose mother would not +break her heart if she got her living on the streets! + +When she thought of the bitter truth the laughing face was clouded. + +"I wish I were a lady--a rich one, I mean--for your sake," said she +softly. "You look so ill. You ought to have a doctor." + +"I ought to have a good many things, I daresay, that I haven't got. I +have to do without." + +Her eyes drooped. They remained fixed on a little gold brooch fastening +her cloak. The brooch was the gift of Dorrimore. The wonder was her +mother had not discovered it. + +"I must go. I--I've forgotten something." + +"But you'll come again, wont you?" said he imploringly. "Though to be +sure there's nothing in this hovel to tempt you? Besides, the difference +between us----" + +"Please don't talk nonsense," she broke in. "Yes, I'll come again soon. +I don't know how long I shall be--a couple of hours perhaps." + +"Do you really mean that?" he cried, joyfully. + +"Yes, if nothing happens to prevent me. Good-bye for a while." + +She waved her hand. He caught the tips of her fingers and kissed them. +One bright smile in response and she was gone. + +With her heart fluttering strangely--a fluttering that Dorrimore had +never been able to inspire--Lavinia flew down the staircase and sped +through the streets in the direction of London Bridge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"YOU'VE A MIGHTY COAXING TONGUE" + + +The shop on London Bridge of Dr. Mountchance, apothecary, astrologer, +dealer in curios and sometimes money lender and usurer, was in its way +picturesque and quaint, but to most tastes would scarcely be called +inviting. Bottles of all shapes and sizes loaded the shelves, mingled +with jars and vases from China, Delft ware from Holland and plates and +dishes from France, which Dr. Mountchance swore were the handiwork of +Palissy, the famous artist-potter. Everything had a thick coating of +dust. Dried skins of birds, animals and hideous reptiles hung from the +walls and ceiling; a couple of skulls grinned mockingly above a doorway +leading into a little room at the rear, and it was difficult to steer +one's way between the old furniture, the iron bound coffers and +miscellaneous articles which crowded the shop. + +In the room behind, chemical apparatus of strange construction was on +one table; packets of herbs were on another; a huge tome lay opened on +the floor, and books were piled on the chairs. The apartment was a +mixture of a laboratory and lumber room. A furnace was in one corner, +retorts, test tubes, crucibles, a huge pestle and mortar, jars, bottles +were on a bench close handy. + +The room was lighted by a window projecting over the Thames, and the +roar of the river rushing through the narrow arches and swirling and +dashing against the stone work never ceased, though it varied in +violence according to wind and tide. The house was a portion of the old +chapel of St. Thomas, long since converted from ecclesiastical +observances to commercial uses. + +Dr. Mountchance, who at this moment was at a table in the centre +examining a silver flagon and muttering comments upon it, was a little +man about seventy, with an enormous head and a spare body and short +legs. His face was wrinkled like a piece of wet shrivelled silk and his +skin was the colour of parchment. His eyes, very small and deep-set, +were surmounted by heavy brows once black, now of an iron grey. His +mouth was of prodigious width, the lips thin and straight and his nose +long, narrow and pointed. He wore a dirty wig which was always awry, a +faded mulberry coloured coat, and a frayed velvet waistcoat reaching +halfway down his thighs. His stockings were dirty and hung in bags about +his ankles, his feet were cased in yellow slippers more than half worn +out. + +Dr. Mountchance's hearing was keen. A footfall in the shop, soft as it +was, caused him to look up. He saw a slight girlish figure, her cloak +pulled tightly about her, a pair of bright eyes peering from beneath the +hood. + +The old man gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. Many of his customers were +women but he liked them none the more because of their sex. They +generally came to sell, not to buy, and most of them knew how to drive a +hard bargain. He shuffled into the shop with a scowl on his lined yellow +face. + +"What d'ye want?" he growled. + +Most girls would have been nervous at such a reception. Not so this one. + +"I want to sell this brooch. How much will you give me for it?" said +she, undauntedly. + +"Don't want to buy it. Go somewhere else." + +"I shan't. Too much trouble. Besides, you're going to buy it, dear Dr. +Mountchance." + +The imploring eyes, the beseeching voice, soft and musical, the modest +yet assured manner, were too much for the old man. Unconscious of the +destiny awaiting her, Lavinia was employing the same tenderness of look, +the same captivating pathos of tone as when two years later she, as +Polly Peachum, sang "Oh ponder well," and won the heart of the Duke of +Bolton. + +"H'm, h'm," grunted Mountchance, "you pretty witch. Must I humour ye?" + +"Of course you must. You're so kind and always ready to help others." + +The doctor showed his yellow fangs in a ghastly grin that gave a +skull-like look to his dried face. + +"Hold thy wheedling tongue, hussy. This trinket--gold you say?" + +"Try it, you know better than I." + +Dr. Mountchance took the brooch into the inner room, weighed it, tested +the metal and returned to the shop. + +"I can give you no more than the simple value of the gold. 'Tis not +pure--a crown should content ye." + +"Well, it doesn't. Do you take me for a cutpurse? I'm not that sort." + +"How do I know? You use thieves' jargon. Where did you pick it up?" + +Lavinia gave one of her rippling laughs. + +"That's my business and not yours. I tell you it's honestly come by and +I want a guinea for it. You know it's worth five and maybe more. The man +who gave it me--I don't care for him you may like to know--isn't mean. +He'd spend a fortune on me if I'd care to take it but I don't." She +tossed her head disdainfully. + +"Oh, 'tis from your gallant. Aye, men are easily fooled by bright eyes. +Well--well----" + +Lavinia's ingenuous story had its effect. Not a few of Dr. Mountchance's +lady customers preferred money to trinkets and he did a profitable trade +in buying these presents at his own price. Some of these flighty damsels +were haughty and patronising and others were familiar and impudent. The +old man disliked both varieties. Lavinia belonged to neither the first +nor the second. She was thoroughly natural and the humour lurking in her +sparkling eyes was a weapon which few could resist. Dr. Mountchance +unclasped a leather pouch and extracted a guinea. + +"You've a mighty coaxing tongue, you baggage. Keep it to yourself that I +gave you what you asked, lest my reputation as a fair dealing man be +gone for ever." + +"Oh, you may trust me to keep my mouth shut," said Lavinia with mock +gravity. + +A sweeping curtsey and she turned towards the door. At the same moment a +lady cloaked and hooded like herself entered. They stared at each other +as they passed. + +Lavinia recognised Sally Salisbury, though the latter was much more +finely dressed than when they encountered each other outside the +Maidenhead Tavern in St. Giles. Sally was not so sure about Lavinia. The +slim girl was now a woman. She carried herself with an air. She had +exchanged her shabby garments for clothes of a fashionable cut which she +knew how to wear. Still, some chord in Sally's memory was stirred and +she advanced into the shop with a puzzled look on her face. + +Mountchance received his fresh customer obsequiously. He had made a good +deal of money out of Sally; she never brought him anything which was not +valuable and worth buying. Sometimes her treasures were presents from +admirers, sometimes they were the proceeds of highway robberies. The +latter yielded the most profit. The would-be sellers dared not haggle. +They were only too anxious to get rid of their ill-gotten gains. + +The old man bowed Sally Salisbury into his inner room. He knew that the +business which had brought her to him was one that meant privacy. He +ceremoniously placed a chair for her and awaited her pleasure. + +The lady was in no hurry. She caught sight of the gold brooch lying on +the table, took it up and examined it. On the back was graven "A.D. to +Lavinia." Sally's dark arched eyebrows contracted. + +"Lavinia," she thought. "So it _was_ that little squalling cat. I hate +her. She's tumbled on her feet--like all cats. But for the letters I'd +say she'd flung herself at the head of _my_ man." + +Sally was thinking of her encounter with Lavinia outside the Maiden Head +tavern. Lancelot Vane was then sitting in the bow window of the +coffee-room. True he was in a drunken sleep but this would make no +difference. Lavinia, Sally decided, was in a fair way to earn her +living, much as Sally herself did--the toy of the bloods of fashion one +day, the companions of highwaymen and bullies the next. + +"Where did the impertinent young madam get her fine clothes and her +quality air if not?" Sally asked herself, and the question was a +reasonable one. + +"Have you brought me ought that I care to look at, Mistress Salisbury?" +broke in the old man impatiently. "You haven't come to buy that paltry +trinket, I'll swear." + +"How do you knew? It takes my fancy. Where did you get it?" + +"I've had it but five minutes. You passed the girl who sold it me as you +came in. A pretty coaxing wench. She'd make a man pour out his gold at +her feet if she cared to try." + +Sally's lips went pallid with passion and her white nostrils quivered. + +"A common little trull," she burst out. "She should be sent to Bridewell +and soundly whipped. 'Tis little more than six months she was a street +squaller cadging for pence round the boozing kens of St. Giles and Clare +Market. And now--pah! it makes me sick." + +Sally flung the brooch upon the table with such violence it bounced a +foot in the air. + +"Gently--gently, my good Sally," remonstrated Mountchance, "if you must +vent your fury upon anything choose your own property, not mine." + +It was doubtful if the virago heard the request. She was not given to +curbing her temper, and leaning back in the chair, her body rigid, she +beat a tattoo with her high-heeled shoes and clenched her fists till +the knuckles whitened. + +Mountchance had seen hysterical women oft times and was not troubled. He +opened a stoppered bottle and held its rim to the lady's nose. The +moment was well chosen, Sally was in the act of drawing a deep breath, +probably with the intention of relieving her feelings by shrieking +aloud. The ammonia was strong and she inhaled a full dose. She gasped, +she coughed, her eyes streamed, the current of her thoughts changed, she +poured a torrent of unadulterated Billingsgate upon the imperturbable +doctor who busied himself about other matters until Sally should think +fit to regain her senses. + +That time came when after a brief interval of sullenness, accompanied by +much heaving of the bosom and biting of lips she deigned to produce the +pearl necklace, the spoil of Rofflash's highway robbery on the Bath +Road. + +Mountchance looked at the pearls closely and his face became very +serious. + +"The High Toby game I'll take my oath," said he in a low voice. "Such a +bit of plunder as this must be sent abroad. I dursn't attempt to get rid +of it here." + +"That's _your_ business. My business is how much'll you give." + +Dr. Mountchance named a sum ridiculously low so Sally thought. Then +ensued a long haggle which was settled at last by a compromise and Sally +departed. + +As she hurried back to her lodgings in the Borough, Sally was quite +unaware that Rofflash, disguised as a beggar with a black patch over his +eye and a dirty red handkerchief tied over his head in place of his wig, +was stealthily shadowing her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"YOU WERE BRAVE AND FOUGHT FOR ME" + + +Meanwhile Lavinia was hastening to Grub Street. On her way she bought a +pair of shoes which if not quite in the _mode_ were at least fellows. +She also cleverly talked the shopkeeper into allowing her something on +the discarded odd ones and thereby saved a shilling. + +The girl's old life in roaming about the streets had sharpened her wits. +Adversity had taught her much. It had given her a knowledge of persons +and things denied to those to whom life had always been made easy. She +had had sundry acquaintances among the pretty orange girls who plied +their trade at Drury Lane and the Duke's theatres and had got to know +how useful Dr. Mountchance was in buying presents bestowed upon them by +young bloods flushed with wine, and in other ways. Hence when in want of +money she looked upon her brooch she at once thought of the old man's +shop on London Bridge. + +The taverns in those days were real houses of refreshment. Food could be +had at most of them as well as drink. Still a girl needed some courage +to enter. The men she might meet were ready to make free in far too +familiar a fashion. Lavinia stopped in front of the "Green Dragon" near +the Cripples Gate, but hesitated. Many months had passed since the time +when she would have boldly walked into the galleried inn-yard and asked +for what she wanted. The refining influence of Miss Pinwell's genteel +establishment had made her loathe the low life in which her early years +had been passed. + +"They can't eat me," she thought. "Besides, the poor fellow is +starving." + +The place was fairly quiet. One or two men of a group drinking and +gossipping winked at each other when they caught sight of her pretty +face, but they said nothing and she got what she asked for, a cold +chicken, bread and a bottle of wine. + +Lavinia hastened to Grub Street. She ran up the dirty narrow ricketty +stairs, her heart palpitating with excitement, and she knocked at the +garret door. It was opened immediately, Lancelot Vane stood in the +doorway, his fine eyes beaming. He looked very handsome, Lavinia +thought, and she blushed under his ardent gaze. + +He had washed, he had shaved, he had put on his best suit and his wig +concealed the cut on his forehead. He was altogether a different +Lancelot from the bedraggled, woe-begone, haggard young man whom she had +found in the last stage of misery two hours ago. He had moreover, +enlisted the help of the old woman whom Lavinia had met on the stairs at +her first visit and the place was swept and tidied. The room as well as +its occupant was now quite presentable. + +"I've brought you something to eat," stammered Lavinia quite shyly to +her own surprise. "You don't mind, do you?" + +"Not if you'll do me the honour to share it with me." + +"Oh, but it will give you so much trouble. And I'm not hungry. I bought +it all for you." + +Lavinia was busy emptying the contents of a rush basket which the +good-natured landlord of the "Green Dragon" had given her. + +"Have you a plate and a knife and fork? You can't eat with your fingers, +you know." + +"I've two plates and two knives and forks, but the knives are not pairs. +I apologise humbly for my poverty stricken household." + +"That doesn't matter. I'm not going to touch a morsel." + +"Neither am I then. And it isn't my hospitality, remember, but yours. +Why are you such a good Samaritan?" + +"You were brave and fought for me. I shall never forget last +night--never." + +"It will always be in my memory too, and I want our first meal together +to be in my memory also. Alas! I have no tablecloth." + +"But you have plenty of paper," Lavinia laughingly said. "That will do +as well." + +Lancelot laughed in unison and seizing a couple of sheets of foolscap he +opened and spread them on the table. + +"One for you and one for me, but you see I've put them together," said +he with a roguish gleam in his eye. + +"No, they must be separate." + +But he had his way. + +Soon the banquet was ready and it delighted Lavinia to see how +ravenously the young man ate. At the same time it pained her for it told +of days of privation. Before long they were perfectly at ease and +merrily chatting about nothing in particular, under some circumstances +the best kind of talk. Suddenly he said: + +"I'm wondering where my next meal is to come from. I can't expect an +angel to visit me every day." + +"Perhaps it will be a raven. Didn't ravens feed Elijah?" said Lavinia +mockingly. + +"I believe so, but I'm not Elijah. I'm not even a prophet. I'm only a +poor scribbler." + +"You write plays, don't you?" + +"I've written one but I'm afraid it's poor stuff. I meant to show it to +Mr. Gay the great poet. I was told he was often to be found at the +Maiden Head in St. Giles, but unluckily I was persuaded by some friends +to see Jack Sheppard's last exploit at Tyburn. I drank too much--I own +it to my shame--and when I reached the inn where I hoped to see Mr. Gay +I fell dead asleep and never saw him. He had gone when I awoke." + +Lavinia clasped her hands. A shadow passed over her bright face leaving +it sad and pensive. The red mobile lips were tremulous and the eyes +moist and shining. She now knew why Lancelot Vane's features had seemed +so familiar to her. But not for worlds would she let him know she had +seen him in his degradation. + +Besides she too had memories of that day she would like to forget--save +the remembrance of her meeting with Gay and his kindness to her, a +kindness which she felt she had repaid with folly and ingratitude. + +"Then you know Mr. Gay?" said she presently. + +"I was introduced to him by Spiller the actor one night at the Lamb and +Flag, Clare Market--I'll warrant you don't know Clare Market; 'tis a +dirty greasy ill-smelling place where everyone seems to be a +butcher----" + +Lavinia said nothing. She knew Clare Market perfectly well. + +"Mr. Gay was good enough to look at some poems I had with me. He praised +them and I told him I'd written a play and he said he would like to see +it. And then--but you know what happened. I feel I daren't face him +again after disgracing myself so. What must he think of me?" + +"He'll forgive you," cried Lavinia enthusiastically. "He's the dearest, +the kindest, the most generous hearted man in the world. He is my best +friend and----" + +She stopped. She was on the point of plunging into her history and there +was no necessity for doing this. She had not said a word to Lancelot +Vane about herself and she did not intend to do so. He must think what +he pleased about the adventure which had brought them together. He must +have seen her leap from Dorrimore's carriage--nay, he may have caught +sight of Dorrimore himself. Then there was the ruffian of a coachman who +had pursued her. The reason of the fellow's anxiety to capture her must +have puzzled Vane. Well, it must continue to puzzle him. + +"Mr. Gay your friend?" returned Vane with a pang of envy. "Ah, then, +you're indeed fortunate. I--you've been such a benefactor to me, madam, +that I hesitate to ask another favour of you." + +All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an +equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was +a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest +work, "The Fables," was being talked about at Button's, at Wills', at +every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the +world of fashion and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the +assured manner of one, he thought. + +"What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help +you," said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young +man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her. + +"Thank you," he exclaimed eagerly. "I would ask you if you have +sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse +you nothing. Nobody could." + +"Oh, this is very sad," said Lavinia shaking her head. "I'm afraid, Mr. +Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of +no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to +trust it to me." + +"Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything." + +"You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of. +But--where's this play of yours? May I look at it?" + +"It would be the greatest honour you could confer upon me. I would +dearly love to have your opinion," he cried, his face flushing. + +"My opinion isn't worth a button, but all the same the play would +interest me I'm sure." + +He went to a bureau and took from one of the drawers a manuscript neatly +stitched together. + +"I've copied it out fairly and I don't think you'll have much difficulty +in deciphering the writing." + +Lavinia took the manuscript and glanced at the inscription on the first +page. It ran "Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot +Vane." + +"Oh, it's a tragedy," she exclaimed. + +He read the look of dismay that crept over her face and his heart fell. + +"Yes. But the real tragic part doesn't come until the very last part of +the fifth act." + +"And what happens then?" + +"The lovers both die. They do not find out how much they love each other +until it is too late for them to be united, so Stephen kills Amanda and +then kills himself." + +"How terribly sad. But wasn't there any other way? Why couldn't you have +made them happy?" + +"Then it wouldn't have been a tragedy." + +"Perhaps not. But what prevented them marrying?" + +"Amanda, not knowing Stephen loved her, had married another man whom she +didn't care for." + +"I see. There was a husband in the way. Still it would have been wiser +for her to have left him and run away with Stephen. It certainly would +have been more in the mode." + +"Not on the stage. People like to see a play that makes them cry. How +they weep over the sorrows of Almeria in Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning +Bride!'" + +"Yes, so I've heard. I've never seen the play. The title frightens me. I +don't like the notion of a mourning bride." + +"Not in real life I grant you. But on the stage it's different. I'm +sorry you don't care for my tragedy," he went on disappointedly. + +"I never said that. How could I when I haven't read a line? That's very +unjust of you." + +"I humbly crave forgiveness. Nothing was further from my thoughts than +to accuse you of being unjust. I ought to have said that you didn't care +for tragedies, and if so mine would be included. Pray pardon me." + +"How serious! You haven't offended me a bit. After all it isn't what I +think of your play that's of any consequence. It's what Mr. Gay thinks +and I'll do my best to take it to him." + +"You will? Madam, you've made me the happiest of mortals. Let me wrap up +my poor attempt at play writing." + +"Why do you call it poor? And am I not to read it?" + +"No, no. Not a line. You would think it tedious. I'll wait for Mr. Gay's +opinion, and if that's favourable I would like with your permission to +introduce a part for you." + +"What, in a tragedy? I can't see myself trying to make people weep." + +"But it wouldn't be a tragic part. While we've been talking it has +occurred to me that the play would be improved by a little comedy." + +"Yes," rejoined Lavinia eagerly, "by a character something like Cherry +in the 'Beaux Stratagem?'" + +"H'm," rejoined Vane. "Not quite so broad and vivacious as Cherry. That +would be out of keeping." + +"I'd dearly love to play Cherry," said Lavinia meditatively. + +"You'd be admirable I doubt not, but----" + +"Would the part you'd introduce have a song in it?" + +"H'm," coughed the dramatist again. "Hardly. There are no songs in +tragedies." + +"I don't see why there shouldn't be. I love singing. When I'm an actress +I must have songs. Mr. Gay says so." + +"Then you've not been on the stage?" + +"No, but I hope I shall be soon. I dream of nothing else." + +Vane looked at her inquiringly. To his mind the girl seemed made for +love. Surely a love affair must have been the cause of the escapade on +London Bridge. How came she to be alone with a gallant in his carriage +at that time of night? But he dared not put any questions to her. Her +love affairs were nothing to him--so he tried to persuade himself. + +He was now busy in tying up the manuscript in a sheet of paper and +Lavinia was thinking hard. + +The question was, what was to become of her? She had no home, for she +had made up her mind she would not go back to her mother and Miss +Pinwell was equally impossible. This impeccable spinster would never +condone such an offence as that of which she had been guilty. Neither +did Lavinia wish the compromising affair to be known in the school and +talked about. She felt she had left conventional schooling for ever and +she yearned to go back to life--but not the same life in which her early +years had been passed. + +Another worry was her shortness of money. She had but a trifle left out +of the guinea her brooch had fetched. In the old days she could have +soon earned a shilling or two by singing outside and inside taverns. But +what she had done as a beggar maid could not be thought of in her fine +clothes. And during the last six months, with good food, regular hours +and systematic drilling, she had shot up half a head. She was a grown +woman, and she felt instinctively that as such and with the winsome face +Nature had bestowed upon her, singing outside taverns would be +considered by men as a blind for something else. In addition she looked +back upon her former occupation with loathing. It could not be denied +that she was in an awkward plight. + +She was so absorbed that she did not hear Vane who finished tieing up +the packet speaking to her. Suddenly she became aware of his voice and +she turned to him in some confusion. + +"I beg your pardon. You were saying----" + +"Pardon my presumption, I was asking whether I might have the privilege +of knowing your name." + +"Oh yes. Lavinia Fenton. But that's all I can tell you. You mustn't ask +where I live." + +"I'm not curious. I'm quite contented with what you choose to let me +know." + +"And with that little are you quite sure you'll trust me with your play? +Suppose I lose it or am robbed?" + +"I must take my chance. I've a rough draft of the whole and also all the +parts written out separately. I wouldn't think of doubting you. But do +you know where to find Mr. Gay?" + +"Oh yes. He lives at the house of his friend, Her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry." + +"That is so," rejoined Vane in a tone of evident relief. Her answer +convinced him that what she said about knowing Gay was true. + +"I can only promise to deliver it to him and if possible place it in his +own hands. Do you believe me?" + +"Indeed I do. And will you see me again and bring me an answer?" + +"Why, of course," said she smilingly. + +He insisted upon attending her down the staircase and when they were in +the dark passage down below they bade each other adieu, he kissing her +extended hand with a courteous bow which became him well. + +Vane watched her thread her way along poverty-stricken Grub Street, and +slowly ascended the staircase to his garret sighing deeply. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +IN THE CHAPTER COFFEE HOUSE + + +It was nearly six o'clock when Lavinia stood on the broad steps of +Queensberry House behind Burlington Gardens. Now that she was staring at +the big door between the high railings with their funnel shaped link +extinguishers pointing downward at her on either side her courage +seemed to be slipping from her. The grotesque faces supporting the +triangular portico seemed to be mocking her, the enormous knocker +transformed itself into a formidable obstacle. + +The adventures of the last forty-eight hours had suddenly presented +themselves to the girl's mind in all their enormity. It occurred to her +for the first time that she had not only thrown away the chance of her +life, but that she had been guilty of black ingratitude to her +benefactors. And her folly in permitting the fancy to rove towards +Archibald Dorrimore, for whose foppishness she had a contempt, simply +because he was rich! The recollection of this caused her the bitterest +pang of all. + +How could she justify her conduct to Mr. Gay! Would he not look upon her +as a light o' love ready to bestow smiles upon any man who flattered +her? Well, she wouldn't attempt to justify herself. Mr. Gay was a poet. +He would understand. But the terrible duchess--Kitty of Queensberry who +feared nothing and in the plainest of terms, if she was so minded, +expressed her opinion on everything! Lavinia quaked in her shoes at the +thought of meeting the high-born uncompromising dame. + +"But I've promised the poor fellow. I _must_ keep my word. I don't care +a bit about myself if I can do that," she murmured. + +Lavinia had a sudden heartening, and lest the feeling should slacken she +seized the heavy bell-pull and gave it a violent tug. + +The door was opened almost immediately by a fat hall porter who scowled +when he saw a girl instead of the footman of a fine lady in her chair. + +"What d'ye want? A-ringing the bell like that one would think you was my +Lord Mayor." + +"I'm neither the Lord Mayor nor the Lady Mayoress, as your own eyes +ought to tell you. I wish to see Mr. Gay." + +"Well, you can't," said the porter gruffly. "He's not here. He's staying +with Mr. Pope at Twitnam." + +"Twitnam? Where is Twitnam?" + +"Up the river." + +"How far? Can I walk there?" + +"May be, but you hadn't better go on foot. It's a goodish step--ten or a +dozen miles. You might go by waggon, there isn't no other way save toe +and heel. An' let me give you warning, young 'oman, the roads aren't +safe after dark. D'rectly you get to Knightsbridge footpads is ten a +penny, let alone 'ighwaymen. Not that you're _their_ game--leastways by +the looks o' you." + +"Thank you. I'm not afraid, but you mean your advice kindly and I'll not +forget it. Mr. Gay's at Mr. Pope's house you say?" + +"Mr. Pope's villa--he calls it. Mr. Pope's the great writer." + +"I've heard of him. Which is the way after I've left Knightsbridge?" + +"Why, straight along. Don't 'ee turn nayther to the right or the left, +Kensington--'Ammersmith--Turn'am Green--Brentford--you goes through 'em +all, if you don't get a knock on the 'ead on the way or a bullet through +ye. One's as likely to 'appen as the other. I wouldn't answer fer your +getting safe and sound to Twitnam unless you goes by daylight." + +"That's what I must do then," said Lavinia resignedly. "Thank you +kindly." + +"You're welcome, I hope as how that pretty face o' yours won't get ye +into trouble. It's mighty temptin'. I'd like a kiss myself." + +"Would you? Then you won't have one. As for my face, I haven't any other +so I must put up with it." + +Dropping a curtsey of mock politeness Lavinia hastened away and did not +slacken her pace till she reached Piccadilly and was facing the large +open space now known as the Green Park. + +It was a lovely evening and the western sun though beginning to descend, +still shone brightly. The long grass invited repose and Lavinia sat down +on a gentle hillock to think what her next step must be. + +She was greatly disappointed at not finding Mr. Gay. She was sure he +would have forgiven her escapade; he would have helped her over the two +difficulties facing her--very little money and no shelter for the night. +Of the two the latter was most to be dreaded. + +"A year ago," she thought, "it wouldn't have mattered very much. The +Covent Garden women and men from the country are kind-hearted. I'd have +had a corner in a waggon and some hay to lie upon without any bother, +and breakfast the next morning into the bargain. But now--in these +clothes--what would they take me for?" + +These reflections, all the same, wouldn't solve the problem which was +troubling her and it _had_ to be solved. She must either walk about the +streets or brave the tempest of her mother's wrath. This wrath, however, +didn't frighten her so much as the prospect of being again made a +prisoner. Her mother, she felt sure, had some deep design concerning +her, though what it was she could not conceive. + +Tired of pondering over herself and her embarrassing situation Lavinia +turned her mind to something far more agreeable--her promise to Lancelot +Vane which of course meant thinking about Vane himself. + +She couldn't help contrasting Vane with Dorrimore. She hated to remember +having listened seriously to the latter's flatteries. By the light of +what had happened it seemed now to her perfectly monstrous that she +could ever have consented to marry him. It angered her when she thought +of it--but her anger was directed more against herself than against +Dorrimore. + +"I suppose I ought to go back to Mr. Vane. He'll be waiting anxiously to +know how I've fared, but no--I'll go to Twitenham first." + +She sat for some time watching the sunset. She wove fanciful dreams in +which the pallid face and large gleaming eyes of the young poet were +strangely involved. With what courtly grace and reverence he had kissed +her hand! Vane was a gentleman by nature; Dorrimore merely called +himself one and what was more boasted of it. + +But what did it matter to her? Vane had done her a service and it was +only right she should repay him in some sort. This was how she tried to +sum up the position. Whether Mr. Gay befriended him or not, their +acquaintance would have to cease. He was penniless and so was she. If +she confessed as much as this to him he would be embarrassed and +distressed because he could not help her. + +"I dursn't tell him," she sighed. "I'll have to do something for myself. +Oh, if I could only earn some money by singing! I would love it. Not in +the streets though. No, I could never do that again. Never!" + +She clasped her hands tightly and her face became sad. Then her thoughts +went back to Vane and she pictured him in his lonely garret perhaps +dreaming of the glorious future awaiting him if his tragedy was a +success, or perhaps he was dejected. After so many disappointments what +ground had he for hope? Lavinia longed to whisper in his ear words of +encouragement. She had treasured that look when his face lighted up at +something she had said that had pleased him. And his sadness she +remembered too. She was really inclined to think she liked him better +when he was sad than when he was joyful. But this was because she +gloried in chasing that sadness away. It was a tribute to her power of +witchery. + +Dusk was creeping on. She must not remain longer in that solitary +expanse. She rose and sped towards Charing Cross. In the Strand citizens +and their wives, apprentices and their lasses were taking the air. The +scraps of talk, the laughter, gave her a sense of security. But the +problem of how to pass the night was still before her. She dared not +linger to think it out. She must go on. Young gallants gorgeously +arrayed were swaggering arm in arm in pursuit of adventure, in plain +words in pursuit of women, the prettier the better. Lavinia had +scornfully repelled the advances of more than one and to loiter would +but invite further unwelcome attention. + +The night was come but fortunately the sky was clear, for the Strand was +ill lighted. St. Mary's Church, not long since consecrated, St. +Clement's Church, loomed large and shadowy in the narrow roadway, +narrowing still more towards Temple Bar past the ill-favoured and +unsavoury Butcher's Row on the north side of the street, where the +houses of rotting plaster and timber with overhanging storeys frowned +upon the passer-by and suggested deeds of violence and robbery. + +Butcher's Row and its evil reputation, even the ruffians and dissolute +men lurking in the deep doorways did not frighten Lavinia so much as the +silk-coated and bewigged cavaliers. The days of the Mohocks were gone it +was true, but lawlessness still remained. + +Lavinia was perfectly conscious that she was being followed by a spark +of this class. She did not dare look round lest he should think she +encouraged him, but she knew all the same that he was keeping on her +heels. Along Fleet Street he kept close to her and on Ludgate Bridge +where the traffic was blocked by the crowd gazing into the Fleet river +at some urchin's paddling in the muddy stream he spoke to her. She +hadn't the least idea what he said, she was too terrified. + +In the darkness of St. Paul's Churchyard she had the good luck to avoid +him and she darted into Paternoster Row, and took shelter in a deep +doorway. Either he had not noticed the way she went or he had given up +the chase, for she saw no more of him. + +The doorway in which she had sought refuge was a kind of lobby with an +inner door covered with green baize. From the other side came the sound +of loud talking and laughter, and the clinking of glasses. It was the +Chapter Coffee House, the meeting place of booksellers, authors who had +made their names, and struggling scribblers hanging on to the skirts of +the muses. + +The air was close. Inside the revellers may have found it insufferable. +The door was suddenly opened and fastened back by one of the servants. +The man looked inquiringly at the shrinking figure in the lobby. +Evidently she was not a beggar and he said nothing. + +Lavinia glanced inside from no feeling other than that of curiosity. At +the same time she was reluctant to leave the protection of the house +until she was sure her persecutor was not lurking near. + +The candles cast a lurid yellowish light; the shadows were deep; only +the faces of those nearest the flame could be clearly distinguished. One +table was surrounded by a boisterous group in the centre of which was a +fat man in a frowsy wig. He had a malicious glint in his squinting eyes +and was evidently of some importance. When he spoke the others listened +with respect. + +This pompous personage was Edmund Curll, bookseller, whose coarse and +infamous publications once brought him within the law. Curll, we are +told, possessed himself of a command over all authors whatever; he +caused them to write what he pleased; they could not call their very +names their own. Curll was the deadly enemy of Pope and his friends, and +his unlimited scurrility drew from the poet of Twickenham a retaliation +every whit as coarse and as biting as anything the bookseller's warped +mind ever conceived. + +Had Lavinia been told this was the notorious Curll, the name would have +conveyed nothing. The quarrels of poets and publishers were to her a +sealed book. All that she knew was that she disliked the man at first +sight, while his vile speech made her ears tingle with shame. Despite +the danger possibly awaiting her in the gloom of Paternoster Row she +would have fled had not the sight of one of the group at the table +rooted her to the spot. + +This was Lancelot Vane whom her maiden fancy had elevated into a god +endowed with all the virtues and laden with misfortunes which had so +drawn him towards her. Vane--alas that it should have to be written--had +taken much wine--far too much! + +Lavinia knew the signs. Often in the old days in St. Giles had she seen +them--the eyes unnaturally bright, the face unnaturally flushed, the +laugh unnaturally empty. And she had pictured Vane so sad, so depressed! +The sight of him thus came upon her as a shock. + +At first she was angry and then full of excuses for him. It was not his +fault, she argued, but that of his companions and especially of the +squint-eyed, foul-tongued man who no sooner saw that the bottle was +getting low than he ordered another one. + +What could she do to help him? Nothing. He was out of her reach. She +remembered how he looked when she first saw him at the Maiden Head inn. +He would probably look like that again before the night was ended. She +could not bear to gaze upon him as he was now and she crept away with +the old wives' words in her mind--Providence looks after drunken men and +babes. + +She stole from the lobby sad at heart. She had no longer the courage to +face the dangers of the street. The deep shadow of great St. Paul's, +sacred building though it was, afforded her no protection; it spoke +rather of cut-throats, footpads, ruffians ready for any outrage. The din +of voices, the sounds of brawling reached her from Cheapside. The London +'prentices let loose from toil and routine were out for boisterous +enjoyment and may be devilry. She dared not go further eastward. + +The only goal of safety she could think of was the coffee house in the +Old Bailey. Why should she be afraid of her mother? + +"She won't lock me up again. I'll take good care of that. I suppose she +thinks I'm still a child. Mother's mistaken as she'll find out." + +So she wheeled round and went back to Ludgate Hill, keeping close to the +houses so that she should not attract attention. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LAVINIA'S PILGRIMAGE + + +It was past nine when Lavinia turned into the Old Bailey. The chief +trade done by the coffee house was in the early morning. After market +hours there were few customers save when there was to be an execution at +Tyburn the next morning, and those eager to secure a good sight of the +ghastly procession and perhaps take part in it, assembled opposite the +prison door over night. Mrs. Fenton in the evenings thought no more of +business, but betook herself to the theatre or one of the pleasure +gardens in the outskirts of London. + +Lavinia remembered this and hoped for the best. At such a time Mrs. +Fenton with her love of pleasure would hardly stay at home. + +Lavinia hurried past grim Newgate and crossed the road. The coffee house +was on the other side. Hannah was standing in the doorway in a cruciform +attitude, her arms stretched out, each hand grasping the frame on either +side. She was gossipping with a man and laughing heartily. Lavinia +decided that her mother must be out. If at home she would never allow +Hannah this liberty. Lavinia glided to the woman and touched one of the +outstretched hands. Hannah gave a little "squark" when she felt the +girl's cold fingers. + +"It's only me Hannah," whispered Lavinia. + +"Only me--an' who's me?... Bless us an' save us child, what do you go +about like a churchyard ghost for? Where in 'eaven's name have ye sprung +from? I never come across anybody like you, Miss Lavvy, for a worryin' +other people. I've been a-crying my eyes out over ye." + +"And mother, has she been crying too?" + +"Your mother? Not she," returned Hannah with a sniff of contempt. "Catch +her a-cryin' over anything 'cept when she hasn't won a prize in a +lottery. But come you in. I've ever so much to tell you. You'd best be +off Reuben. I'll see you later." + +Reuben who was one of the men employed at Coupland's soap works in the +Old Bailey, looked a little disappointed, but he obeyed nevertheless. + +"You've given us a pretty fright and your lady mother's been in a mighty +tantrum. I tell you it's a wonder as she didn't tear my eyes out. She +swore as it was all my fault a lettin' you go. But what have you come +back for?" + +"I had to. But don't bother, it's only for a few hours. Mother's out I +know." + +"Course she is. Simpson the cattle dealer's a-beauing her to Marybone +Gardens. They won't be back this side o' midnight. Now just tell me what +you been a-doin' of. You're a pretty bag o' mischief if ever there was +one. Who's the man this time? T'aint the one as you runned away with, is +it?" + +"No, indeed," cried Lavinia, indignantly. "I don't want ever to see him +again." + +"Well, your mother does," returned Hannah with an odd kind of laugh. + +"Whatever for?" + +"I'll let you have the story d'rectly, but you tell me your tale first." + +By this time they were in the shop and Hannah caught sight of Lavinia's +white, drawn face and her tear-swollen eyes. + +"You poor baby. What's your fresh troubles?" + +"Nothing--that is, not much. I'm tired. I'm faint. Give me some +coffee--cocoa--anything." + +Faint indeed she was. At that meal with Lancelot Vane she had eaten very +sparingly. She was too excited, too much absorbed and interested in +seeing him so ravenous to think of herself. In addition she had gone +through much fatigue. + +"Coffee--cocoa--to be sure," cried the kindly Hannah, "an' a hot +buttered cake besides. You shan't say a word till I've gotten them +ready." + +The cook had gone. There was no one in the house save Hannah. The two +went into the kitchen where the fire was burning low--with the aid of +the bellows Hannah soon fanned the embers into a flame and she was not +happy until Lavinia had eaten and drank. + +Then Lavinia told the story of her adventures, hesitatingly at first and +afterwards with more confidence seeing that Hannah sympathised and did +not chide or ridicule. + +"An' do 'ee mean to tell me you're going to Twitenham to-morrow?" + +Lavinia nodded. + +"What, over a worthless young man who gets drunk at the first chance he +has?" + +Lavinia fired up. + +"He's not worthless and he wasn't drunk." + +"Hoity-toity. What a pother to be sure. Well, I'll warrant he is by this +time." + +"How do you know? If he is it won't be his fault. The others were +drinking and filling his glass. I saw them, the wretches," cried Lavinia +with heightened colour. "But it is nothing to me," she went on tossing +her head. "Why should I bother if a man drinks or doesn't drink?" + +"Why indeed," said Hannah ironically. "Since you don't care we needn't +talk about him." + +"No, we won't, if you've only unkind things to say." + +"Eh, would you have me tell you how well you've behaved and how good you +are? First you run away to be married to a man you don't care for, and +in the next breath you take no end of trouble and tire yourself to death +over another man you say you don't care for either. Are you going +through your life like that--men loving you and you leaving them?" + +"You're talking nonsense, Hannah. You know nothing about it," cried +Lavinia angrily. "Let me manage my own affairs my own way and tell me +what mother's doing. You read me a riddle about her just now." + +"'Tisn't much of a riddle. It's just what one might guess she'd do when +she's on the scent for money. You've become mighty valuable to her all +of a sudden." + +"I! Valuable? Oh la! That's too funny." + +"You think so, do you child? Wait till you hear. _I_ call it a monstrous +shame an' downright wicked. A mother sell her own child! It's +horrible--horrible." + +"What are you talking about, you tiresome Hannah?" cried the girl +opening her eyes very wide. + +"Ah, you may well ask. After you was locked up she pocketted that letter +from your spark and off she went to his lodgings in the Temple. She well +plied herself with cordials an' a drop o' gin or two afore she started, +an' my name's not Hannah if she didn't repeat the dose as she came back. +I knowed it at once by her red face an' her tongue a-wagging nineteen to +the dozen. She can't keep her mouth shut when she's like that. It all +comed out. She'd been to that Mr. Der--Dor--what's his name?" + +"Dorrimore. Yes--yes. Go on. I want to hear," exclaimed Lavinia +breathlessly. + +"I wouldn't ha' said a word agen her if she'd insisted upon the fine +young gentleman paying for his frolic a trying to fool you--which he +didn't do an' you may thank yourself for your sperrit Miss Lavvy--that +was only what a mother ought to do, but to sell her own child to make +money out of her own flesh an' blood--well I up an' told her to her face +what I thought of her." + +"Make money out of _me_, good gracious Hannah, how?" + +"The fellow offered her fifty guineas if she'd hand you over to him. He +swore he'd make a lady of you." + +"What! Marry me?" + +"Marry you! Tilly vally, no such thing. He'd spend money on you--fine +dresses, trinkets, fallals and all that, but a wedding ring, the +parson--not a bit of it. An' when he tired of you he'd fling you away +like an old glove." + +"Would he?" cried Lavinia indignantly. "Then he won't." + +"No, but it means a tussle with your mother. What a tantrum she went in +to be sure when she found you was gone. She fell upon poor me an' called +me all the foul names she could lay her tongue to. Look at these." + +Hannah pushed back her cap and her hair and showed four angry red +streaks down the side of her face. Mrs. Fenton had long nails and knew +how to use them. + +Lavinia was horrified. Throwing her arms round the honest creature's +neck she kissed her again and again. Then she exclaimed despairingly:-- + +"What am I do to do to-night? I dursn't stay here." + +"I'm not so sure about that. I'm thinking it can be managed. Your +mother's gone to Marybone Gardens with Dawson, the Romford cattle +dealer. They won't be home till latish an' I'll go bail as full o' +strong waters as they can carry. It's not market day to-morrow and your +mother'll lie in bed till noon. You can share my bed an' I'll let 'ee +out long afore the mistress wakes." + +"Oh thank you--thank you Hannah. How clever you are to think of all +this." + +"Not much cleverness either. Trust a woman for finding out a way when +love's hanging on it." + +"Love?" rapped out Lavinia sharply. + +"Aye, it's love as is taking you to Twitenham with the young man's +rubbishy play." + +"You've not read it, Hannah. It's not fair to call it rubbishy." + +"Not read it, no, nor never shall, and may be I'll never see it acted +either. But I hope it will be, Lavinia, for your sake. But take care, +it's ill falling in love with a man who's fond of his cups." + +Lavinia made no reply. Her face had suddenly gone grave. + +Hannah ceased to tease her and bustled about to get supper--something +warm and comforting, stewed rabbit and toasted cheese to follow. + +The bedroom shared by Lavinia and Hannah was in the front of the house. +About two o'clock both were awakened by the champing of a horse and the +squeaking and scraping of wheels followed by a loud wrangling in a deep +bass growl and a shrill treble. + +"That's the mistress--drat her," grumbled Hannah from under the +coverlet. "She's a-beatin' down the coachman. She always does it." + +The hubbub was ended, and not altogether to the satisfaction of the +hackney coachman judging by the way he banged his door. Mrs. Fenton +stumbled up the stairs to her room rating the extortion of drivers, and +after a time all was silence. + +Daylight was in the room when Lavinia awoke. She slipped quietly out of +bed not wanting to disturb Hannah, but the latter was a light sleeper. + +"Don't you get up," said Lavinia. "I can dress and let myself out +without bothering you." + +"What, an' go into the early morning air wi'out a bite or sup inside +you? I'm not brute beast enough to let you do that." + +And Hannah bounced out of bed bringing her feet down with a thump which +must have awakened Mrs. Fenton in the room below had the lady been in a +normal condition, which fortunately was not the case. + +Within half an hour the two stole out of the house, and on reaching the +Ludgate Hill end of the Old Bailey turned eastwards. Their destination +was the Stocks Market occupying the site where the present Mansion House +stands. The Stocks Market was the principal market in London at that +time, Fleet Market was not in existence and Covent Garden, then mainly a +fashionable residential quarter, was only in its infancy as to the sale +of fruit and vegetables. + +But the Stocks Market eastwards of St. Paul's was not in the direction +of Twickenham, or Twitenham as it was then called. Why then were Lavinia +and Hannah wending their way thither? + +It was in this wise. Hannah was quick witted and fertile in resources. +Moreover she was a native of Mortlake, then surrounded by fruit growing +market gardens and especially celebrated for its plums, the fame of +which for flavour and colour and size has not quite died out in the +present day. Hannah had had her sweethearting days along by the +riverside and in pleasant strolls on Sheen Common, and not a few of her +swains cherished tender recollections of her fascinating coquetry. She +knew very well she would find some old admirer at the Stocks Market who +for auld lang syne would willingly give Lavinia a seat in his covered +cart returning to Mortlake with empty baskets. And Mortlake of course, +is no very long distance from Twickenham. + +So it came about. The clock of St. Christopher le Stocks struck five as +the two young women entered the market. The Bank of England as we now +know it did not then exist. St. Christopher's, hemmed in by houses, +occupied the site of the future edifice, as much in appearance like a +prison as a bank. Sir Thomas Gresham's Exchange then alone dominated the +open space at the entrance of the Poultry. + +The market was in full swing. Shopkeepers, hucksters and early risen +housewives keen on buying first hand and so saving pennies were +bargaining at the various stalls. Hannah went about those set apart for +fruit and soon spotted some one she knew--a waggoner of honest simple +looks. His mouth expanded into the broadest of grins and he coloured to +his ears when he caught sight of Hannah. + +"Ecod Hannah, my gal, if the sight o' 'ee baint good fur sore eyes. I'm +in luck sure-ly. Fi' minutes more an' 'ee'd ha' found me gone. Dang me +if 'ee baint bonnier than ever." + +"Don't 'ee talk silly, Giles Topham. Keep your nonsense for Hester +Roberts." + +"Hester Roberts! What be that flirty hussy to I?" retorted Giles +indignantly. + +"You know best about that, Giles. What be 'ee to me? That's more to the +purpose I'm thinking." + +"I be a lot to 'ee Hannah. Out wi' the truth now, an' tell me if I +baint." + +Lavinia was beginning to feel herself superfluous in the midst of this +rustic billing and cooing, and was moving a few steps off when Hannah +having whispered a few words to Giles which might have been a reproof or +the reverse beckoned to her, and without further ado told her old +sweetheart what she wanted. + +"I'd a sight sooner take 'ee Hannah--meanin' no offence to 'ee miss--but +if it can't be, why----" + +"Of course it can't, you booby. You know that as well as I do." + +"Aye. Some other time may be," rejoined Giles grinning afresh. "So 'ee +be a-goin' to see the great Mr. Pope? 'Ee'll have to cross by the ferry +and 'tis a bit of a walk there from Mortlake but I'll see 'ee safe." + +"I should think you would or I'll never speak to you again." + +Giles gave another of his grins and set to work arranging the baskets +in his cart so as to form a seat for Lavinia, and having helped the girl +to mount, bade Hannah adieu, a matter which took some few minutes and +was only terminated by a hearty kiss which Hannah received very +demurely. Then Giles after a crack of his whip started his horse, at the +head of which he marched, and with waving handkerchiefs by Hannah and +Lavinia the cart took the road to London Bridge. + +The nearest way to Mortlake would have been the Middlesex side, crossing +the river at Hammersmith, but Hammersmith Bridge had not been thought of +and the cart had to plod through Lambeth, Vauxhall, Wandsworth, Putney +and Barnes. + +At intervals Giles climbed into the cart and entertained Lavinia with +guileless talk, mainly relating to Hannah and her transcendent virtues. +Nor did he stop at Hannah herself but passed on to her relatives, her +mother who was dead and her grandmother who was ninety and "as hale an' +hearty as you please." + +"A wonnerful old dame she be an' mighty handy with her needle, a'most as +she used to be when she was a girl a-working at the tapestry fact'ry by +the riverside. It were a thunderin' shame as ever the tapestry makin' +was done away with at Mortlake an' taken to Windsor. It was the King's +doin's that was. Not his Majesty King George, but King Charles--long +afore my time, fifty years an' more agone. Lords an' ladies used to come +to Mortlake then I'm told an' buy the wool picture stuff, all hand sewn, +mind ye, to hang on the walls o' their great rooms. Some of it be at +'Ampton Palace this very day." + +Thus and much more Giles went on and Lavinia listened attentively. The +cart rumbled through the narrow main street of Mortlake and reached +Worple way where Giles and his mother lived in a cottage in the midst of +a big plum orchard. + +The old woman was astonished to see a pretty girl seated in her son's +cart but the matter was soon explained, and she insisted upon Lavinia +having a meal before going on to Twickenham. + +Then Giles volunteered to show Lavinia the way to the ferry, the +starting point of which on the Surrey side was near Petersham Meadows, +and in due time she was landed at Twickenham. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"ARE WORDS THE ONLY SIGNS OF LOVE?" + + +Lavinia easily found her way to Pope's villa. The first man of whom she +inquired knew the house well and guided her to it. + +The house was somewhat squat and what we should now call double fronted. +The back looked on to a garden bordering the river, the front faced a +road on the other side of which was a high wall with a wooded garden +beyond. + +"That be Mr. Pope's house, young madam, an' that be his garden too, +t'other side o' that wall. He be but a feeble shrivelled up whey-faced +little gentleman, thin as a thread paper an' not much taller than you +yourself. I'm told as he baint forty, but lor, he might be ninety by his +looks. We folk in the village don't see much of him an' I doubt if he +wants to see us." + +"Gracious! Why is that? What makes him so unsociable?" + +"He's always ailing, poor gentleman. Why, if ye went by his face he +might have one foot in the grave. When he fust comed to live here he +hated to have to cross the road to get to that there garden t'other +side, so what do'e do but have a way dug under the road. It be a sort +o' grotto, they say, with all kinds o' coloured stones and glasses +stuck about an' must ha' cost a pile o' money. I s'pose rich folk must +have their whims and vapours an' must gratify 'em too, or what be the +good o' being rich, eh? Thank 'ee kindly young madam." + +Lavinia, upon whom the good Hannah had pressed all the coins that were +in her pocket, gave the man a few coppers and summoning her courage she +grasped the bell-pull hanging by the door in the wall fronting the +house. Her nerves were somewhat scattered and she could not say whether +the clang encouraged or depressed her. May be the latter, for a sudden +desire seized her to run away. + +But before desire had become decision the door in the wall had opened +and a soberly attired man-servant was staring at her inquiringly. +Lavinia regained her courage. + +"I want to see Mr. Gay please. I'm told he's staying with Mr. Pope." + +"Aye. What's your business?" + +"That's with Mr. Gay, not with you," rejoined Lavinia sharply. + +The man either disdained to bandy words or had no retort ready. He +admitted the visitor and conducted her into the house. Lavinia found +herself in a small hall, stone paved, with a door on either side. The +hall ran from the front to the back of the house and at the end a door +opened into a wooden latticed porch. Beyond was a picturesque garden and +further still the river shining in the sun. She heard men talking and +apparently disputing. The shrill tones of one voice dominated the rest. + +The servant bade her wait in the hall while he went to Mr. Gay. He did +not trouble to ask her name. + +While he was gone Lavinia advanced to the open door, drawn thither by +curiosity. A garden grateful to the eye was before her. It had not the +grotesque formality of the Dutch style which came over with William of +Orange--the prim beds with here and there patches and narrow walks of +red, flat bricks, the box trees cut and trimmed in the form of peacocks +with outstretched tails, animals, anything absurd that the designer +fancied. Close to the river bank drooped a willow, and a wide spreading +cedar overspread a portion of the lawn. + +Underneath the cedar four men were sitting round a table strewn with +papers. Lavinia easily recognised the portly form of her patron, Gay. +Next to him was a diminutive man, his face overspread by the pallor of +ill-health. He was sitting stiff and bolt upright and upon his head in +place of a fashionable flowing wig was a sort of loose cap. + +"That must be Mr. Pope, the queer little gentleman the countryman told +me of," thought Lavinia. + +She saw the servant in a deferential attitude standing for some time +between Mr. Pope and Mr. Gay waiting for an opportunity to announce his +errand. For the moment the discussion was too absorbing for anyone of +the four to pay attention to the man. + +"Mr. Rich no high opinion has of either music or musicians," said one of +the disputants, a lean, dried-up looking man who spoke with a strong +guttural accent. This was Dr. Pepusch, musical director at John Rich's +theatre, the "Duke's," Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields. + +"Dr. Pepusch is right," rejoined Gay. "That is why I favoured Cibber. +But from his reception of me I doubt if he'll take the risk of staging +the play." + +"Cibber likes not you, Mr. Gay, and he hates me," said Pope with his +acid smile. "He's a poet--or thinks he's one--and poets love not one +another. Nothing is so blinding to the merits of others as one's own +vanity." + +"Nay, Mr. Pope, is not that assumption too sweeping?" put in the fourth +man, of cheerful, rubicund countenance and, like Gay, inclined to +corpulency. "What about yourself and Mr. Gay? Is there anyone more +conscious of his talents and has done more to foster and encourage them +than you? Who spoke and wrote in higher praise of Will Congreve than +John Dryden?" + +"Your argument's just, Arbuthnot," rejoined Pope. "And that's why I +rejoice that the King, his Consort and the Statesman who panders to her +spite and lives only for his own ambition have insulted our friend. +Their taste and their appreciation of letters found their level when +they considered the author of the 'Trivia' and the 'Fables' was +fittingly rewarded by the appointment of 'gentleman usher' to a +princess--a footman's place, forsooth!" + +It was too true. George the First was dead, George the Second had +succeeded and with the change of government Gay hoped to obtain the +"sinecure" which would have kept him in comfort to the end of his days. +He was bitterly disappointed. The post bestowed upon him was a +degradation. + +"Say no more on that head," exclaimed Gay hastily, "I would forget that +affront." + +"But not forgive. We're all of us free to carry the battle into the +enemy's camp and with the more vigour since you are fighting with us, +John Gay. The 'Beggar's Opera'--'tis mainly the Dean's idea--the title +alone is vastly fine--will give you all the chance in the world. Pray do +not forget the Dean's verses he sent you 't'other day. They must be set +to good music, though for my own part I know not one tune from another." + +Snatching a sheet of paper from the table Pope, in his thin, piping +voice, read with much gusto:-- + + + "Through all the employments of life + Each neighbour abuses his brother, + Trull and rogue they call husband and wife, + All professions be-rogue one another. + + "The priest calls the lawyer a cheat, + The lawyer be-knaves the divine, + And the statesman because he's so great + Thinks his trade as honest as mine." + + +"Aye; that should go home. Faith, I'd give my gold headed cane to see +Sir Robert's face when he hears those lines," laughed the cheery +physician. "Who will sing them, Mr. Gay?" + +"I know not yet; we've settled upon very few things. Our good musician, +Dr. Pepusch, is ready whenever I hand him the verses and the tunes to +set them to. Why, I've not decided the names of the characters, and that +let me tell you, doctor, is no easy matter. I call the first wench Peggy +Peachum, but it doesn't please me. I----" + +At that moment Pope caught sight of his man fidgetting first on one foot +and then on the other. + +"What d'ye want sirrah?" demanded the poet irritably. + +"A young girl, sir, desires to see Mr. Gay. She couldn't tell me her +business with him." + +A roar of laughter was heard, in the midst of which Gay looked puzzled +and a trifle foolish. + +"Oh poor Gay, to think thy light damsels cannot let thee alone but must +follow thee to my pure Eve-less abode," said Pope mockingly. + +"Nay, 'tis nothing of the kind. You accuse me unjustly. I know no light +o' love. To prove it your servant shall bring the girl here and you may +see her for yourself. I've no love secrets." + +"What if you had, man? No one would blame you. Not I for one. Get as +much enjoyment as you can out of life, but not in excess. 'Tis excess +that kills," said Arbuthnot laying his hand on Gay's. + +There was a meaning in the contact which emphasised the doctor's words. +Self indulgence was Gay's failing as all his friends knew. + +"Well--well," rejoined Gay somewhat embarrassed. "Be it so, I--conduct +the girl hither--have I your permission, Mr. Pope?" + +"With all my heart--provided she's worth looking at." + +"I know nothing of her looks. Quick, Stephen, your master and these +gentlemen are impatient." + +The man hastened away to the house and presently was seen crossing the +lawn with Lavinia by his side. + +"'Faith, you've good taste, Mr. Gay," said Arbuthnot with a chuckle. "A +trim built wench, upon my word. And she knows how to walk. She hasn't +the mincing gait of the city madams of the Exchange nor the flaunting +strut of the dames of the Mall or the Piazza." + +Gay made no reply. The girl's carriage and walk were indeed natural and +there was something in both which was familiar to him. But he could not +fix them. He would have to wait until the sheltering hood was raised and +the face revealed. + +This came about when Lavinia was a couple of yards or so from the man. +Gay bent forward and rose slightly from his chair. An expression half +startled, half puzzled stole over his face. + +"Gad! Polly--or am I dreaming?" + +"Lavinia sir," came the demure answer accompanied by a drooping of the +long lashes and a low curtsey. + +"Lavinia of course, but to me always Polly. Gentlemen, this is Miss +Lavinia Fenton, the nightingale I once told you of." + +"Aye," rejoined Pope, "I remember. She was flying wild in the fragrant +groves of St. Giles and you limed her. Good. Now that she's here she +must give us a sample of her powers. I pray that your nightingale, Mr. +Gay, be not really a guinea fowl. Your good nature might easily make you +imagine one to be the other." + +"I protest. You are thinking of yourself. I'll swear you cannot tell the +difference. You put all the music you have into your verse. I doubt if +you could even whistle 'Lillibulero,' though there's not a snub nosed +urchin in his Majesty's kingdom who can't bawl it." + +"That may be, but I can neither whistle nor am I a snub-nosed urchin. I +apologise for my defects," retorted the poet. + +A general laugh followed at this and Gay, somewhat discomfited, turned +to Lavinia. + +"Now, Polly, what has brought you here, child? But looking at you I +doubt if I ought to call you child. 'Tis months since I saw thee and I +vow in that time you've become a young woman." + +"I'm very sorry, sir. I could not help it," said Lavinia meekly. + +"Help it! Faith, no! 'Tis very meritorious of you. But tell me. Has the +admirable Miss Pinwell granted you a holiday, or is it your birthday and +you've come for a present, or what?" + +"Neither the one nor the other, sir. I--I rather think I've left +school." + +"Left school! And without apprising me who am, you know, in a way +sponsor for you? But may be you've written the duchess?" + +Lavinia shook her head and cast down her eyes. + +"Left school," repeated Gay lifting his wig slightly and rubbing his +temple. "Surely--surely you haven't misbehaved and have been expelled. +Miss Pinwell I know is the perfection of prim propriety, but----" + +"Quite true, sir, so she is," burst out Lavinia impetuously, "and I've +done nothing wicked--not really wicked--only silly, but I'm sure Miss +Pinwell wouldn't take me back. You see, sir, I--oh well, I suppose I +must confess I ran away--I meant to return and nobody would have been +the wiser--but things happened that I didn't expect and--and oh, I do +hope you'll forgive me." + +Lavinia's pleading voice quivered. Her eyes were fixed imploringly on +Gay. Tears were glistening in them, the pose of her figure suggested a +delightful penitence. The susceptible poet felt his emotions stirred. + +"Forgive you? But you haven't told me what I am to forgive. You ran +away from school you say. What made you? Had you quarrelled with +anyone?" + +"Oh no--not then--the quarrel was after I left the school." + +"After--hang me if I understand. Whom did you quarrel with?" + +"The--the person I--I ran away with." + +Lavinia's confession was uttered in the softest of whispers. It was +inaudible to anyone save Gay. Her face had suddenly become scarlet. + +"The per--oh, there's a mystery here. Mr. Pope--gentlemen," Gay went on +turning to the others, "will you excuse me if I draw apart with our +young madam. She has propounded to me an enigma which must be solved." + +"And if you fail--as you will if the enigma is a woman's--call us to +thine aid," said Arbuthnot laughingly. + +Gay shook his head and he and Lavinia paced the lawn. + +"It's no use asking you to tell me everything, Polly, because you can't +do it. Your sex never do. You're like spendthrifts who are asked to +disclose all their debts. They always keep the heaviest one back. Tell +me as much or as little as you please or nothing at all, if it likes you +better." + +Lavinia hesitated, and at first her tale was a halting one enough, but +seeing no sign of anger in Gay's amiable countenance, she became more +courageous, and substantially she said all that was necessary to make +her companion acquainted with her list of peccadilloes. + +"Zooks, my young miss," quoth Gay after the solace of a pinch of snuff. +"It seemeth to me that you've begun to flutter your pinions sufficiently +early. Two love affairs on your hands within twenty-four hours. Mighty +fine, upon my word." + +"Oh, but they are _not_ love affairs," protested Lavinia. "I didn't love +Mr. Dorrimore a bit. I never want to see him again. And as for Mr. +Vane, never a word of love has passed between us." + +"Bless your innocence. Are words the only signs of love? Permit me to +inform you, Polly, that I look upon your love adventure with Lancelot +Vane as a much more serious business than your elopement with a +profligate fop." + +"Indeed, it is serious, Mr. Gay. It's worse than serious--it's tragic. +If you could see the wretched place poor Mr. Vane lives in, if you knew +how he is wanting for food----" + +"And drink--is he wanting for that too?" interposed Gay sarcastically. + +Lavinia made no answer. She thought of Lancelot at the Chapter Coffee +House the night before and her face clouded. + +"I'll give you a word of advice, Polly. If you're going to be a nice +woman and want to keep your peace of mind, never fall in love with a +poet, a playwright or indeed any man who takes his pen in hand for a +living." + +"But, sir--aren't you a poet and don't you write plays?" + +"Exactly, and that's why I'm warning you. _Ex uno disce omnes_, which +you may like to know means, we're all tarred with the same brush." + +"And do you drink too much, sir?" inquired Lavinia with an engaging +simplicity. + +"Gad, not oftener than I can help. But we were talking about falling in +love and that has nothing to do with my drinking habits. About Mr. +Vane's--well, that's a different matter. You haven't fallen in love with +me and you have with a clever young man who's going as fast as he can to +the deuce." + +"I don't know, sir, whether you're laughing at me or telling me the +truth, but--Mr. Vane risked his life for me." + +"And to reward him you're thinking of trusting him with yours. A pretty +guardian--a man who can't take care of his own!" + +"Oh, you're wrong, Mr. Gay--indeed, you are. Mr. Vane is nothing to me. +I'm only sorry for him." + +"Of course--of course. That's the first step. You begin by being sorry +for your sweetheart and you end by being sorry for yourself. Well--well, +a woman must go her own way or she wouldn't be a woman. What have you +there?" + +Lavinia was holding out a parcel. + +"'Tis a play, sir, that Mr. Vane has written." + +"And why did he write it? Who asked him? Who wants plays?" + +"I--I don't know," Lavinia stammered dismally. She felt her ardour was +being damped. "Mr. Vane begged me to bring it to you, sir, and I +couldn't refuse, could I? It was this way. I told him you were my +friend--and you are, aren't you?--and he was overjoyed." + +"Overjoyed? What in the name of Heaven about?" + +"Mr. Vane thought that if I took the play to you and asked you to read +it you would be sure to say you would." + +"Mr. Vane had no business to think anything of the kind. Doesn't he know +that nothing in this world can be taken for granted? I've committed the +folly myself too often not to know that placing faith in other people is +vanity and vexation." + +"Yes, sir. But you'll read Mr. Vane's play all the same, won't you?" + +"What a wheedling baggage it is," muttered Gay. + +And he held the parcel and resisted the impulse to give it back to +Lavinia and to tell her that he had neither time nor inclination to read +other men's plays. His own play was sufficient for him at that moment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"I'M FIXED ON POLLY PEACHUM" + + +Lavinia saw she had nearly conquered and cried:--"Let me untie the knot. +I was sure you would not say no." + +Gay was like wax in her hands. He permitted her to snatch the parcel and +attack the knot. Between her deft fingers and pearly teeth she had the +string off and the parcel open in a trice. She held the manuscript under +Gay's nose. He could not help seeing the title, writ large as it was. + +"Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot Vane," he read +with a rueful look. "Mercy on me, Polly, you never told me it was a +tragedy. Oh, this is very--very sad." + +"But Mr. Gay, aren't all tragedies sad?" + +"Oh, I confess some are comic enough in all conscience. But that was not +in my mind. It was that any sane man should waste time in writing a +tragedy. The worst thing about a tragedy is that the playwright's +friends are pestered to read it and audiences tired by sitting it out. +Aren't there tragedies enough in real life without men inventing 'em?" + +"Indeed, I can't say, sir." + +"I suppose not. You're not old enough. Tragedy doesn't come to the young +and when it does they don't understand and perhaps 'tis as well. But +I'll have to humour you or I shall never hear the last of it. Put the +parcel up again and I'll look at the contents at my leisure. Now to a +much more entertaining matter--yourself. Have you practised your +singing? Have you attended to the instructions of your music master? I +doubt it. I'll vow you've often driven the poor man half frantic with +your airs and graces and teasing and that he hasn't had the heart to +chide you." + +"Oh, indeed he has," cried Lavinia, pouting, "though really I haven't +given him cause and yet he was tiresome enough." + +"I dare say. But you must let me hear. I want to be sure the good +duchess hasn't thrown her money away. My friends, too, are curious to +have a taste of your quality. I've told them much about thee. You +mustn't put discredit upon me." + +"No sir, I wouldn't be so ungrateful. What would you have me do?" + +"I want to hear one of your old ballads such as showered pennies and +shillings in your pocket when I've heard you sing in Clare Market and +St. Giles High Street. But first let us go back to Mr. Pope and the +others." + +Lavinia looked a little frightened at the idea of singing before musical +judges who doubtless were accustomed to listen to the great singers at +the King's Theatre--Signor Senesino, Signor Farinalli, Signora Cuzzoni, +Signora Faustina, and may be the accomplished English singer Anastasia +Robinson, albeit she rarely sang in the theatre but mainly in the houses +of her father's noble friends among whom was the Earl of Peterborough, +her future husband. + +Perhaps Gay saw her trepidation, for, said he laughingly: + +"You needn't fear Mr. Pope. He hasn't the least idea what a tune is and +won't know whether you sing well or ill. Dr. Arbuthnot sitting next him +is the kindliest soul in the world, and will make excuses for you if you +squawl as vilely as a cat on the tiles. As for Dr. Pepusch--ah, that's a +different matter. Pepusch is an ugly man and you must do your best to +lessen his ugliness. He's all in all to Mr. Rich when Rich condescends +to let the fiddles and the flutes give the audience a little music. If +you capture Pepusch you may help me." + +"Oh, I'd do that gladly Mr. Gay. Tell me how," cried Lavinia eagerly. + +"Softly--softly, 'tis all in the clouds at present. Pepusch must hear +you sing. Then--but I dare not say more." + +Lavinia surveyed the hard face and the double chin of the musical +director disapprovingly. + +"I don't take to him," said she. "Is he an Englishman?" + +"No--he comes from Germany. Like King George and Queen Caroline." + +Lavinia frowned. + +"Some of the people in St. Giles I've heard call the Royal Family +Hanoverian rats," she exclaimed indignantly, "and those German women who +pocketted everything they could lay their hands upon--the 'Maypole' and +the 'Elephant,' the one because she's so lean and the other because +she's so fat--they're rats too. Fancy the King making them into an +English duchess and countess. 'Tis monstrous. Why----" + +"Hush--hush," interrupted Gay with mock solemnity and placing his finger +on her lips. "You're talking treason within earshot of the 'Maypole,' +otherwise her Grace the Duchess of Kendal. Don't you know that she is a +neighbour of Mr. Pope? Kendal House on the road to Isleworth is but an +easy walk from here." + +"Then I'm sorry for Mr. Pope. I hate the Germans." + +"Oh, then you're a Jacobite and a rebel. If you would retain your pretty +head on your shoulders keep your treason to yourself," laughed Gay. "But +I confess I like the Germans no more than you do. Yet there are +exceptions. Pepusch has made his home here--his country turned him +out--and there's clever Mr. Handel. The English know more about his +music than do his countrymen. I would love to see you, Polly, applauded +in the Duke's Theatre as heartily as was Mr. Handel's opera 'Rinaldo' at +the King's." + +Something significant in Gay's voice and face sent the blood rushing to +Lavinia's cheeks. + +"I applauded!--I at the Duke's! Oh, that will never be." + +"May be not--may be not. But one never knows. A pretty face--a pretty +voice--an air--faith, such gifts may work wonders. But let us keep Mr. +Pope waiting no longer." + +They approached the table beneath the cedar tree. + +"Sir," said Gay with a bow to Pope, "I've prevailed upon my young madam +here to give us a taste of her quality. I trust your twittering birds +won't be provoked to rivalry. Happily their season of song is past." + +"I warn you Mr. Gay, the age of miracles is _not_ past. What if the work +you're toiling at sends the present taste of the town into a +summersault? Would not that be a miracle?" + +"You think then that my 'Beggar's Opera' won't do," broke in Gay, his +face losing a little of its colour. + +"You know my views. It is something unlike anything ever written +before--a leap in the dark. But for Miss's ditty. We're all attention." + +"What shall I sing, sir?" Lavinia whispered to Gay. + +"Anything you like, my child, so long as you acquit yourself to Dr. +Pepusch's satisfaction." + +"But I would love to have your choice too. What of 'My Lodging is on the +Cold Ground?' My music master told me this was the song that made King +Charles fall in love with Mistress Moll Davies. So I learned it." + +"Odso. Of course you did. Then let old Pepusch look out. Nothing could +be better. Aye, it is indeed a sweet tune." + +Lavinia retired a few paces on to the lawn, dropped naturally into a +simple pose and for a minute or two imagined herself back in the streets +where she sang without effort and without any desire to create effect. +She sang the pathetic old air--much better fitted to the words than the +so-called Irish melody of a later date--with delightful artlessness. + +"What think you, doctor?" whispered Gay to Pepusch. "Can you see her as +Polly--not Peggy mind ye--I'm fixed on Polly Peachum." + +"De girl ver goot voice has. But dat one song--it tell me noting. Can +she Haendel sing?" + +"That I know not, but I'll warrant she'll not be a dunce with Purcell. +And you must admit, doctor, that your George Frederick Handel is much +beholden to our Henry Purcell." + +"Vat?" cried Pepusch a little angrily. "Nein--nein. Haendel the greatest +composer of music in de vorld is." + +"I grant you his genius but he comes after Purcell. Have you heard +Purcell's setting of 'Arise, ye subterranean winds?' If not, I'll get +Leveridge to sing it. Has not your Handel helped himself to that? Not +note for note, but in style, in dignity, in expression? Ah, I have you +there. But we mustn't quarrel. You must hear the girl again. Look 'ee +here. Have we not agreed that 'Virgins are like the Fair Flower' in the +first act shall be set to Purcell's 'What shall I do to show how much I +love her?' I would have you play the air and Polly shall sing it." + +"Sing dat air? But it most difficult is. It haf de trills--de +appogiaturas. Has she dem been taught?" + +"You will soon see. For myself I hold not with the Italian style and its +eternal ornament and repetitions." + +"Aha--ha Mistare Gay, I haf _you_ now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell +Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den." + +"Oh, may be--may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here +is my verse. Oblige me with the music." + +During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on +the table. This manuscript was a rough draft of the "Beggar's Opera." +Pepusch had before him the music of a number of tunes, most of them +well known, selected by Gay and himself as suitable for the songs in the +opera. Poet and musician had had repeated differences as to the choice +of melodies but things had now fairly settled down. + +Lavinia meanwhile was watching the proceedings with no little interest +and with not less nervousness. She had heard the talk and saw quite well +that she was about to be put to a severe test. She was to sing something +she had never sung before and possibly written in a style with which she +was unfamiliar. Gay approached her with a sheet of manuscript which he +put into her hand. + +"You did very well, child," said he encouragingly. "But I want you to do +better. Dr. Pepusch will play the music for these verses on the +harpsichord. You must listen closely to the melody and take particular +note of the way he plays it. Then you will sing it. Here are the words +and the music. Study them while the doctor plays." + +Lavinia looked at both in something like dismay. The music being +engraved was plainer than Gay's cramped handwriting. She knew she had +imitative gifts and that most tunes she heard for the first time she +could reproduce exactly. But that was for her own pleasure. She at such +times abandoned herself to the power of music. But for the pleasure of +others and to know that she was being criticised was a different matter. +Already she felt distracted. Could she fix her attention on the music +and think of nothing else? + +There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house +and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the +open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in +an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song. + +The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's +fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot her audience. She saw how +the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and +graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or +so and recommenced. + +Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones +gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with +the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which +Purcell had introduced after the fashion of the day were given with +perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly +applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he +crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to +Lavinia and patted her shoulder. + +"Dat vas goot, young laty--ver goot," he growled. + +"What did I tell you doctor?" cried Gay exultantly. "Why, she can sing +everything set down for Polly--I pray you don't forget it is to be +Polly--Peachum. She _is_ Polly Peachum. What do you think, Mr. Pope?" + +"Polly Peachum by all means since you will have it so. If an author has +a right to anything it is surely the right to name his offspring as he +will. He need not even consult his wife--if he have one. But though you +call your work an opera Mr. Gay, it is also a play. The songs are not +everything--indeed, Mr. Rich would say they're nothing. Can the girl +act?" + +"She can be taught and I'll swear she'll prove an apt pupil. 'Twill, I +fear, be many months before it is staged. Rich has not made up his mind. +I hear Mr. Huddy who was dispossessed of the Duke's Theatre contemplates +the New Theatre in the Haymarket. I must talk to him. He hasn't yet +found his new company. An indifferent lot of strolling players I'm told +was his old one. Polly probably won't have a singing part but that's of +no great matter just now." + +"You're bound to build castles in the air Mr. Gay," said Dr. Arbuthnot, +taking his churchwarden from his lips. "Suppose you come down to _terra +firma_ for a brief space. The girl is a singer--that cannot be gainsaid. +She may become an actress--good. But now--who is she? Her father--her +mother----" + +"They can hardly be said to exist," broke in Gay. "I will tell you the +story later on. 'Twould but embarrass her to relate it now. The duchess +has been good enough to charge herself with the cost of her keeping--her +schooling and the rest." + +"Oh, that alters the case. If she is a protégée of her grace I need not +say more. Her future is provided for." + +"Why, yes," but Gay spoke in anything but a confident tone. Inwardly he +was troubled at what view Mat Prior's "Kitty" might take of Polly's +escapade. The Duchess might be as wayward as she pleased, but it did not +follow that she would excuse waywardness in another woman. + +Gay turned to Pepusch and the two conversed for some little time, the +upshot of the talk being that Pepusch promised, when the proper time +came, to say to John Rich all he could in favour of Lavinia, always +supposing she had acquired sufficient stage experience. + +This settled, the poet drew near Lavinia who all this time was waiting +and wondering what this new adventure of hers would end in. + +"Now Polly, my dear," said Gay, "if you behave yourself and don't have +any more love affairs----" + +"But did I not tell you, sir, I'd had none," interrupted Lavinia. + +"Yes--yes, I remember quite well. We won't go into the subject again or +we shall never finish. The varieties and nice distinctions of love are +endless. A much more pressing question is nearer to hand--where are you +going to live?" + +"Hannah, my mother's servant--a dear good kind creature--it was through +her I was able to come here--will find me a lodging. I can trust her +but--but----" + +She stopped and much embarrassed, twisted her fingers nervously. + +"I understand. You've but little money." + +"I have none, sir, unfortunately." + +"Well--well--never mind. Here's a guinea." + +"Oh, you're too generous, sir. But I shall pay you back." + +"Don't worry about that. Now go into the house. I will ask Mr. Pope to +tell his housekeeper to give you a dish of tea or a cup of cocoa. +Good-bye. You must let me know where you are living. I may have good +news for you within a few days." + +Lavinia between smiles and tears hurried off after curtseying to the +gentlemen under the cedar tree and on her way across the lawn was met by +the man-servant who took her to the housekeeper's room. The woman had +heard the singing and was full of admiration. She wanted to hear more, +she said, so while the tea was being got ready Lavinia sent her into +thrills of delight by warbling the universal favourite "Cold and Raw." + +After a time came the question of returning to London and how. Lavinia +could have crossed the ferry and so to Richmond and Mortlake, but that +would not help her on the journey unless Giles was going to market, +which was hardly likely. Besides she did not wish to burden him. And +then--there was Lancelot Vane. + +Lancelot, she thought, must be anxious to know the result of her +mission. That result was not so encouraging as she had hoped. True, Mr. +Gay had the precious tragedy in his pocket and had promised to read it, +but his opinion of dramatists generally and his hints concerning +Lancelot Vane's weakness had considerably damped her ardour. In spite of +this, she determined to get to London as quickly as possible and to +hasten to Grub Street that same night. + +"You can catch the Bath coach at Hounslow," said the housekeeper. "It's +but just gone five and the coach be timed to stop at the 'George' at +six, but it's late more often than not." + +"And how far is it to Hounslow?" + +"May be a couple o' miles or so, but it's a bit of a cross road--say two +mile an' a half. Stephen'll put you in the right way." + +"Oh thank you--thank you kindly," cried Lavinia. "But it will be giving +Stephen a deal of trouble. I dare say I can find my way by myself." + +"Oh, you may do that. I should think you were sharp enough, but there +are no end of beggars and rapscallions of all sorts on the Bath road and +some of 'em are bound to wander into the by-ways on the look out for +what they can steal. No, Stephen must see you through the lonely parts." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"I WISH YOU GOOD NIGHT AND MORE SENSE" + + +Lavinia and her protector set out. Stephen was inclined to be garrulous +and Lavinia had not much occasion to put in a word. He entertained her +with choice bits of information, such as how he remembered when the +coach ran between Bath and London only three times a week. + +"But that was nigh twenty years ago. It were Mr. Baldwin as keeps a inn +at Salthill as started to run 'em daily. The coach stops at the Belle +Savage, Ludgate. Be that near where you want to go, miss?" + +"Ludgate Hill? Oh, yes." + +Hounslow in Stephen's opinion was getting to be quite a big place. + +"When I was a boy it hadn't more'n a hundred houses--it's double or +treble that now, but they're pretty well all inns an' ale houses an' +mighty queer ones, some of em are. Hand in glove with highway robbers +an' footpads. Not much good a-tryin' to catch a highwayman if he once +gets to Hounslow. He's only got to run in one of the houses where's he +known an' you might as well try to foller a fox as has darted into a +drain. Some o' them ale houses an' boozin' kens has got passages +a-runnin' one into the other." + +"That's very terrible Mr. Stephen. You quite alarm me," cried Lavinia. + +But she was not so alarmed as she would have been had she been brought +up a fine lady. She had had highwaymen pointed out to her in Drury Lane +and Dyott Street and knew that the majority were boasting, bragging +fellows and cowards at heart. But there were others of a different +quality who did their robberies with quite a gentlemanly air. + +They took the way through Whitton Park. As the housekeeper said, the +journey was cross-country so far as roads were concerned, but Stephen +knew the short cuts and they reached the long, straggling, mean-looking +Hounslow High Street--the future town was at that time little more than +a street--at about a quarter to six. + +They entered the "George"--a house of greater pretensions than the +rest--and Lavinia found she was in plenty of time for the London coach. + +"She'll be late," said the landlord. "A chap as just come in says he +rode past her t'other side o' the heath an' she was stuck fast on a +nasty bit o' boggy road and one o' the leaders--a jibber--wouldn't stir +a step for whip or curses." + +"That's bad," said Stephen. "Still it would ha' been far worse if some +o' them High Toby gentry had stopped the coach." + +"Aye," rejoined the landlord dropping his voice. "We had a fellow o' +that sort in about half an hour ago. He was on a mare as wiry an' +springy as could be, could clear a pike gate like a wild cat I'll bet. I +didn't like the scoundrel's phizog and I'll swear he didn't want to know +for naught what time the London coach passed the George. I wouldn't +wonder if he was hanging about Smallbury Green at this 'ere very minute. +But don't 'ee let the young leddy know this. She might be afeared, an' +after all I may be wrong." + +Stephen nodded. + +"The High Toby gen'elmen are gettin' monstrous darin'. I'm told as +they've been stickin' up bills on the park gates of the Quality +a-warnin' their lordships not to travel with less than ten guineas in +their pocket an' a gold watch an' chain, on pain o' death. What think +'ee o' that for downright brazenness?" + +Stephen could only raise his hands deprecatingly, but as Lavinia was +drawing near him he made no reply. + +"I've booked my seat," said she, "so please don't stay any longer. I'm +quite safe now and all I have to do is to wait for the coach. Thank you +kindly for coming with me." + +"Ye're quite welcome, miss. I don't know as I can be of more sarvice, so +I'll get back to Twitenham. I wish 'ee a pleasant journey to London." + +Lavinia again thanked him, Stephen departed and Lavinia prepared herself +to exercise what patience she possessed. And well she needed patience +for it was past eight and quite dark before the coach appeared at little +more than a walking pace. Then the horses had to be changed, the +coachman roundly anathematising the sinning jibber as the brute was led +in disgrace to the stables; the passengers descended to refresh +themselves and so nearly another hour was wasted. + +At last all was ready. Lavinia had booked an inside place and found that +her only fellow passenger was a gouty old gentleman who had been taking +the waters at Bath. The outside passengers were but few, a woman and a +couple of men. + +Hounslow was left behind and in due time they entered the road across +Smallbury Green, beyond which was Brentford. The travelling was very bad +and the coach on its leather hangings swung about in all directions. The +conversation--if conversation it could be called--consisted of +fragmentary ejaculations of mingled pain and annoyance from the old +gentleman when his gouty foot was jerked against some part of the coach. + +They had not passed over the Green when the clatter of a galloping horse +was heard and almost immediately the coach was pulled up. + +"Body o' me," cried the old gentleman in dismay. "What's happened?" + +He had an answer in a very few seconds. A big pistol, its barrel +gleaming in the moonlight, was thrust through the coach window and +behind the pistol was a masked horseman. + +"A thousand apologies for putting your lordship to such inconvenience," +growled the highwayman with affected humility. "I'm sure your lordship +has too much sense not to perceive the force of an argument which you +will own is entirely on my side." + +And he advanced the muzzle of the pistol a little nearer the head of the +old gentleman and then came an unpleasant click. + +"What d'ye want, you scoundrel?" stammered the victim. + +"Nay, a little more politeness, if you please. I simply want your watch +and chain, the rings on your fingers and any money you may chance to +have about you--gold in preference. Permit me to add that if you don't +turn out your pockets before I count ten I shall put a bullet in your +skull first and do the searching myself afterwards." + +This command, uttered in fierce threatening tones, brought the unlucky +gentleman from Bath to book at once. Trembling, he turned out his +pockets and a number of guineas fell beside him on the seat. The +highwayman grabbed them at once. + +"Your lordship is most generous and complaisant. Now for your trinkets. +Quick! Time is of great importance." + +All the valuables the old gentleman possessed were yielded and pocketted +rapidly by the highwayman. + +"Thanks, my lord, for a most agreeable interview. I trust your lordship +will reach your journey's end without further mishap." + +Then to Lavinia's terror the highwayman turned towards her. She shrank +into her corner of the coach. + +"Pray don't be alarmed, madam. I never rob women unless they tempt me +very much. Some are so foolish as to wear all the gewgaws they possess. +But you have more sense I see. Yet a diamond would vastly set off the +whiteness of that pretty little hand. Your gallant must be very dull not +to have ornamented your charming fingers." + +In spite of the man's fair words Lavinia's terror was not diminished. +His eyes glinted savagely through the holes of his mask and a mocking +note in his raucous voice plainly sounded an insincerity. Apart from +this there was something in his voice which was strangely, disagreeably +familiar, but she was too agitated just then to try to trace the +association. + +The highwayman stared at her for some few seconds without speaking, then +his coarse, wide lips, which the mask did not come low enough to +conceal, parted in a grin showing big yellow, uneven teeth and an ugly +gap in the lower jaw where two of the front teeth had once been. + +"Adieu, madam. Let us hope we shall meet again under happier +circumstances." + +And wheeling round his horse he took off his hat with a sweeping bow. +Then he set out at a gallop and did not draw rein until he reached the +"Red Cow" at Hammersmith. Apparently he was well-known, for in response +to his shout an ostler ran from the yard and at his imperious order took +his horse to the stables. Then the highwayman strode into the bar +parlour. + +His mask, of course, was now removed, and the features were revealed of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash. + +Here he sat drinking until the rumble of the London coach was heard. +Then he quitted the bar and went to the stable, where he remained during +the stay of the coach which occupied some little time, for the story of +the highway robbery had to be told. + +No one about the inn was in the least surprised. Highwaymen haunted +Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and had the landlord of the "Red Cow" +chosen to open his mouth he might have thrown a little light upon the +man who had stopped the Bath coach. + +Once more the coach was on its way and following it went Captain +Rofflash, dogging it to its destination at the Belle Savage. He watched +Lavinia alight and wherever she went he went too. Could she have +listened to what he was saying she would have heard the words:-- + +"By gad, it's the very wench. I'll swear 'tis. Perish me if this isn't +the best day's work I've done for many a day. If I don't make Mr. +Archibald Dorrimore fork out fifty guineas my name isn't Jeremy +Rofflash." + +Shortly after Lavinia set out on her way to Grub Street. Lancelot Vane +was pacing Moor Fields--a depressing tract of land, the grass trodden +down here and there into bare patches, thanks to the games of the London +'prentices and gambols of children--in company with Edmund Curll, the +most scurrilous and audacious of writers and booksellers who looked upon +standing on the pillory, which he had had to do more than once, more as +a splendid form of advertisement than as a degradation. + +"You can write what I want if you chose--no man better," he was saying. +Vane was listening not altogether attentively. His thoughts were +elsewhere. + +"And supposing I don't choose." + +"Then you'll be an arrant fool," sneered Curll angrily. "You're out at +elbows. You haven't a penny to bless yourself with. You don't eat, but +you can always drink provided you run across a friend who by chance has +some money in his pocket. What'll be the end of it all? You'll go +down--down among the dregs of Grub Street and you'll never rise again." + +"Not so, Mr. Curll," cried Vane hotly. "I've great hopes. I've a +tragedy----" + +"A tragedy! _That_ for your tragedy." + +Curll snapped his fingers scornfully. + +"Why, my young friend, supposing you get your tragedy staged, it will be +played one night--if extraordinarily successful two nights, or three at +the most. What do you think you will get out of it? Nothing. But perhaps +you fancy yourself a Congreve or a Farquhar?" + +"Neither Congreve nor Farquhar wrote tragedies, sir," retorted Vane +stiffly. + +"Indeed! What about Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning Bride?'" + +"I prefer his comedies, sir." + +"And so do I, but that's nothing to the point. May be you consider that +you're equal to Mr. Otway or even Mr. Cibber, I leave Mr. Gay out of the +count. He's written nothing that's likely to live and never will. He's +too lazy." + +"You dislike Mr. Gay, 'tis well known, because he's Mr. Pope's friend. I +do not and that's my objection to writing for you. I doubt not you would +ask me to attack the most talented men of the age simply because you +hate them or you want to air some grievance." + +"You're wrong. I do it to sell my books and put money in my pocket. If +you write for me you won't be called upon to express your own opinions. +All you have to do is to express mine and keep your body and soul +together comfortably. You can't do that now and the two'll part company +before long unless you alter. You were not so squeamish last night at +the Chapter Coffee House." + +"There was a reason for that. I was full of wine and hardly knew what I +was saying." + +"I'll warrant you didn't. That same wine, let me tell you, will be your +undoing. Now that your head is clear you'd better think over my offer. +It will at least provide you with a more decent coat and wig than those +you're wearing. A young man should dress smartly. What's his life worth +to him unless women look kindly upon him? Do you expect they care for a +shabby gallant?" + +Vane was silent. Some of Curll's words had gone home. + +"I'll think it over," said he at last. + +"That's right. Think over it and if you're in love, as you ought to be, +ask your girl if I'm not right. Have a night's consideration and come +and see me to-morrow. I wish you good-night and--more sense." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"A MAN SHOULD FIGHT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD" + + +Vane left alone, strolled onward moodily, his eyes bent on the ground. + +"In love, as I ought to be, said that scoundrel," he was muttering. "How +does he know I'm not? But what's the good? Faith, I believe I'm the +poorest devil in London and the unluckiest. Some people would say that +it is my own fault and that I've no need to be. Anyhow, my worthy father +would hold that view. I doubt if he'd kill the fatted calf if I went +back to him.... Go back! I'd rather go to the devil to whose tender +mercies he consigned me. Well, let it be so.... I've had some of the +joys of life--though maybe I've also had a good slice of its +disappointments.... It was worth being poor to have the pity of that +dear delightful girl.... God, what eyes! How sweet the tones of her +voice! I feel I love every hair of her pretty head. But to what purpose? +She's not for me. She never could be. Yet--well I shall see her again. +That's a joy to live for ... anyway. But it's too late to expect her +now. There's nothing left but to dream of her." + +While thus soliloquising, kicking the pebbles as an accompaniment to his +thoughts, Vane neared the corner of Moor Fields leading to Cripples Gate +and was pounced upon by a couple of noisy fellows, friends of his, who, +newly sprung with wine, would have him go with them to the "Bear and +Staff" close to the Gate. + +"No--no," protested Vane, "I'm not in the mood." + +"The very reason why you should drink," quoth one. + +"But I've sworn not to touch a drop of anything stronger than coffee or +chocolate for a week. I had too much port last night." + +"Worse and worse. Hang it man, whatever you may have been at Oxford +University you are no disputant now. Your resolution to be virtuous for +a week won't last a day unless you strengthen it. And what strengthens +the wit more than wine?" + +"Get thee gone Satan. I'm not to be tempted by a paradox." + +Vane did not speak with conviction. His spirits were low. Curll's offer +was worrying him. To be in the service of such a man, whose personal +character was as infamous as some of the books he published, was a +humiliation. It meant the prostitution of his faculties. He shuddered at +the prospect of becoming one of Curll's slaves to some of whom he paid a +mere pittance and who were sunk so low they had no alternative but to do +his bidding. + +Meanwhile the second man had thrust his arm within Vane's and had led +him along a few paces, when suddenly the imprisoned arm was withdrawn +and Vane pulled himself up. He had caught sight of a Nithsdale cloak +with the face he had been dreaming about all day peeping from beneath +the hood. + +"Jarvis--Compton--let me go," he exclaimed, "another time." + +He violently wrenched himself free. They followed his eyes and +instinctively guessed the reason of his objection. The figure in the +cloak had turned but there was an unmistakeable suggestion of lingering +in her attitude. + +"Man alive," laughed Jarvis, "your argument's unanswerable. We give you +best. Woman has conquered as she always does. Good luck." + +Vane did not stay to listen to the banter of his friends but hastened +towards the cloak. + +"You're my good angel," he whispered holding out both his hands. + +"I'm afraid I've come at a wrong moment. I'm taking you from your +friends," said the girl in the cloak a little coldly. + +"You're offended. Pray forgive me if I've done anything wrong." + +"Not to me. Perhaps to yourself. But I ought not to say ... no, what you +do is nothing to me." + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"Why not? You know it as well as I do--may be better." + +"Indeed, I don't. Forgive me if I've allowed myself to think that I was +of some interest to you. Of course I was foolish to have such fancies. +Still, you've been so kind.... I hardly like to ask you if you have seen +Mr. Gay ... and ... and ... my tragedy...." + +Vane could not conceal his agitation. Lavinia took pity on him and her +manner softened in that subtle inexplicable way which women have. + +"Yes, I've seen him and I gave him your play." + +"Ah, I can never thank you sufficiently. And what did he say?" + +"He put the play in his pocket and promised to read it. He could not do +any more, could he?" Lavinia quickly added seeing disappointment written +in the young dramatist's face. + +"No, indeed. But did he give hopes that he would speak to Mr. Rich at +the Duke's Theatre or to Mr. Cibber at Drury Lane?" + +"I don't think he did. I can't remember. He told me he was himself +writing a play--an opera--but he was not sanguine he should get it +performed." + +"An opera? It is a waste of time. Operas are written by foreigners and +the music and the singers are foreign too. What do the English care +about operas written in their own tongue? It's not wonderful that Mr. +Gay should be doubtful. Now a tragedy is a different thing. That's +something everybody understands!" + +"Do they? I fear then I'm very stupid. I saw a tragedy once and I'm not +sure I knew what it was about. The people on the stage made such long +speeches to each other they tired me to death. But I'm sure yours would +not be like that." + +"Ah, you say that because you want to put me in good heart. We'll talk +no more about it, nor about myself either." + +"Oh, but I do want to talk about you. I've something to say and I don't +know how to say it without hurting you," said Lavinia, hesitatingly. + +"You don't mean you're going to bid me good-bye?" he burst out. "I won't +say _that_. You're the only one I've ever met who's encouraged me out of +pure good nature. When I've had money to spend on them, friends have +sought me out fawning and flattering. After they'd emptied my purse they +vanished." + +"Yes, yes, and that's why I want to talk to you. Aren't you easily led +to take too much wine?" + +"Perhaps--perhaps, but no more than other men." + +"I hope so, at least not more than the men I saw you with last night." + +"You saw me! Where?" + +"In a coffee house near St. Paul's. The man who left you a few minutes +ago was making you drink and the others were helping him. Your glass was +never empty save when you yourself had emptied it. I don't like that +white-faced squinting man. His voice is horrid. His vulgar talk--oh, it +made me put my fingers to my ears and run out of the house. He doesn't +mean you well." + +"I--I like him no more than you," stammered Vane. "But he wants me to +write for him. It would put money in my pocket. How could I refuse to +drink with him?" + +"Why not? He would not employ you if he did not think it was to his own +good. And have you promised?" + +"No--not yet. He was persuading me just now but I've not consented." + +"Then don't. He's a bad, a wicked man I feel sure. Have nothing to do +with him." + +"I swear to you I've no desire. But a penniless scribbler has no choice +if he has to live--that is if life be worth living, which I sometimes +doubt." + +"You shouldn't think like that. It's cowardly. A man should fight his +way through the world. Now a woman...." + +"She's armed better than a man. Her charm--her beauty--her wit. Nature +bestows on her all conquering weapons." + +"Which she as often as not misuses and turns against herself. But Mr. +Vane," the note of bitterness had vanished; her voice was now earnest, +almost grave, "you weren't despondent when you were facing an angry mob +after doing me a service I shall never forget. You underrate yourself." + +"Oh, I admit that when alone I'm like a boat at the mercy of wind and +wave, but with some one to inspire--to guide--bah, 'tis useless talking +of the unattainable." + +Vane uttered the last words in a reckless tone and with a shrug of the +shoulders. His eyes gazed yearningly, despairingly into hers, and there +had never been a time in Lavinia's life when she was less able to +withstand a wave of heartfelt emotion. + +Her nerves at that moment were terribly unstrung. She had had a most +exhausting day lasting from early dawn. The strain of the trying +interview at Twickenham; the anxious ordeal of singing before such +supreme judges as she deemed them; the jubilation of success and the +praise they had bestowed upon her, and Gay's promises as to her future +had turned her brain for the time being. Then the episode of the +highwayman--that in itself was sufficiently disturbing. + +As a matter of fact the girl's strength was ebbing fast when she reached +Moor Fields, but she nerved herself to go on, confident of her reward in +relieving the young author's anxiety and his joy at the success--up to a +point--of her errand. Things had not quite turned out as she had +pictured them. The sight of the coarse speeched, malevolent-looking man +with his squinting eye and unhealthy complexion, brought back the scene +of the night before which she would willingly have forgotten, and down +went her spirits to zero. + +While she had been talking with Vane her heart was fluttering strangely. +She had eaten nothing since she had left Twickenham and she was +conscious of a weakness, of a trembling of the limbs. That passionate, +yearning look in Vane's eyes had aroused an excess of tenderness towards +him which overwhelmed her. She suddenly turned dizzy. She swooned. + +When consciousness came back she was in his arms. He was as tremulous as +she and was looking at her pallid face with eyes of terror--a terror +which disappeared instantly when he saw life returning. + +"My God," he cried, "I thought you were dead. I'd have killed myself had +it been so." + +Lavinia gazed at him mutely. It was pleasant to have his arms round her, +and the feel of them gave her a sense of peace and rest. In her fancy +she had gone through an interminable period of oblivion--in reality it +was but a few seconds--and the struggle into life was painful. But she +was strengthened by his vitality and she gently withdrew herself from +his embrace, smoothed her hair and drew forward her hood which had +fallen back. Despite her pallor, or may be because of it, she never +looked more fascinating than at that moment with her hair tumbled, her +large dreamy eyes, and the delicious languor so charmingly suggestive of +helplessness, and of an appeal to him for protection. + +"Are you better?" he whispered anxiously. + +"Yes, thank you. It was very silly to faint. I don't know what made me." + +"Take my arm; do, please. Why, you can hardly stand." + +It was true, and the arm which went round her waist was not wholly +unnecessary. She submitted without protest and they slowly walked a few +paces. + +"Though it's hard to part from you 'tis best you should get home +quickly. Have you far to go? Shall I call a coach?" + +These pertinent questions threw the girl into a sudden state of +confusion. She had no home. She had but little money, for Gay's guinea +was nearly gone after she had paid her fare from Hounslow and the +incidental expenses of the journey. But she dared not say as much to her +companion. He thought her a fine lady. It might be wise to keep him in +this mind. If he knew she was as poor as he, there would be an end to +the pleasure of helping him. She felt sure he would accept nothing more +from her. + +What was she to say? She could think of nothing. She felt bewildered. +At the same time the effort to face the difficulty did her good. It +revived her energy. + +"Indeed there's no necessity for me to ride. I can walk quite well and +it is but a little distance to my home. You may see me across the fields +if you will and then we will say good-night." + +"I'd better walk with you beyond the fields," he urged. "The streets are +just as dangerous for you as this desolate place." + +"Oh no. There are sure to be plenty of people about! You shall go as far +as Cheapside, but not a step further." + +Vane accepted the compromise, but when Cheapside was reached it was full +of a noisy throng and most of the crowd, both men and women, were the +worse for drink. He easily overcame her protest that she could proceed +alone and they went on to St. Paul's. Here it was comparatively quiet, +and she flatly refused to permit him to accompany her beyond the +Cathedral. + +They passed the Chapter coffee house. Lavinia's thoughts reverted to her +warning to Vane on Moor Fields. + +"You've not given me your promise to have nothing to do with that man--I +don't know his name and I don't want to--who made you drink too much +last night in there." + +"I'll promise you anything," he cried pressing the arm which was within +his. + +"Thank you, but that's not all. Swear that you will never drink too much +again. It makes me sad." + +"On my honour I never will. I'd rather die than hurt you by word or +deed." + +"Are you sure?" she returned with more concern in her voice than she +suspected. + +"Sure? If I don't keep my word I should fear to face your anger." + +"I shouldn't be angry, only sorry." + +"I'd rather have your anger than your pity. I might pacify the first but +the second--while you are pitying me you might also despise me. I could +never endure that." + +His voice trembled with genuine emotion. Lavinia put out her hand and he +caught it eagerly and raised it to his lips. + +"You've made me happy," he cried, "you've given me fresh hope. I'll +promise you all you've asked. You must promise me one thing in return. I +can't lose sight of you. It would be eternal torment. When and where +shall we meet?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps not at all," said Lavinia slowly and lowering her +eyes. + +"Don't say that. I've told you why. Not at my miserable lodgings, I +grant you, but at some other place. What say you to Rosamond's Pond?" + +Lavinia darted him a swift glance. The ghost of a smile played about her +lips. + +"The Lovers' Walk of London! Oh, no." + +"But indeed yes. What have you to say against Rosamond's Pond? Its +reputation justifies its romance." + +"Neither its reputation nor its romance has anything to do with us." + +"That is as it may be," he rejoined with an ardent glance. "But you +haven't said no. Rosamond's Pond then to-morrow at sunset--seven +o'clock?" + +Lavinia was too exhausted in mind and body either to refuse or even to +argue. She felt as she had felt many a time in her childhood that she +was simply a waif and stray. Nothing mattered very much. It was easier +to consent than to object. + +"To-morrow at sunset," she faltered. + +"It's a bargain," he whispered. "You won't disappoint me?" + +"Haven't I given you my word? What more do you want?" + +She held out her hand and he pressed it between both his, his eyes fixed +earnestly on her face. + +"I don't like leaving you," he pleaded. "You're pale. Your hand's cold. +You look as if you might faint again. Please ..." + +"No--no--no," exclaimed Lavinia vehemently. "We must part here. +Good-night." + +Vane was loth to let her hand go but she snatched it away and ran off, +turning her head and throwing him a smile over her shoulder--a picture +of natural grace and charming womanly wile and tenderness which dwelt in +his memory for many a long day. + +Vane stood watching the fleeting figure until it vanished in the +obscurity of Ludgate Hill and then with a deep sigh turned towards +Cheapside. + +"That settles it. I won't write a line for that rascal Curll. I've +promised my divinity and by God, I'll keep my promise." + +But the next instant came the dismal reflection that apart from Curll he +hadn't the slightest notion where his next shilling was to come from. + +"Tush! I won't think of the dolefuls," he muttered. "'Tis an insult to +the loveliest--the kindest--the warmest hearted--the ..." + +He suddenly ceased his panegyric and wheeled round swiftly, his hand on +the hilt of his sword. + +Absorbed though he had been in his thoughts of Lavinia, in some +sub-conscious way the sound of footsteps behind him keeping pace with +his own reached his ear. It was no unusual thing for foot passengers to +be set upon and Vane was on the alert. His suspicions were confirmed by +the sight of a man cloaked and with his slouch hat pulled over his +forehead gliding into a narrow passage leading into Paternoster Row. + +"Just as well, my friend, you've taken to your heels. I've nothing to +lose and you'd have nothing to gain, save may be a sword thrust." + +Congratulating himself on his escape from what might have been an ugly +encounter, Vane plodded back to Grub Street. He lingered in front of a +Cripples' Gate tavern where he knew he should find some of his friends, +but he thought of Lavinia's words and he resisted temptation. That night +he did that which with him was a rarity--he went to bed sober. + +He had forgotten the cloaked man whom he had taken for an ordinary +footpad. The fellow must have altered his mind if his intention was to +follow Vane. No sooner was the latter past the passage than he darted +back into St. Paul's Churchyard and hastened westward. He overtook +Lavinia just as she was turning into the Old Bailey and cautiously +followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"THEY'RE TO MEET AT ROSAMOND'S POND" + + +A masquerade was in full swing at a mansion in Leicester Square. The air +of the ball-room was hot and stuffy. Ventilation was a thing of little +account. The light, albeit there were a hundred candles or so in the +sconces, on the panelled walls, and in the chandelier hanging from the +decorated ceiling, and despite the assiduous snuffing by the servants, +was dim. The subdued illumination was not without its advantage. It was +merciful to the painted faces and softened the crudity of their raw +colouring. A mixture of odours offended the nostrils. Powder came off in +clouds, not only from the hair of the belles but also from the wigs of +the beaux. Its peculiar scent mingled with a dozen varieties of the +strong perfumes in vogue, and the combination was punctuated by a dash +of oil from a smoky lamp or two in the vestibule and an occasional waft +of burnt tallow and pitch from the torches of the link boys outside. + +The masquerade was public and the company was mixed. The establishment +provided punch, strong waters and cordials and some of the visitors had +indulged themselves without scruple. The effect was seen in the cheeks +of matrons and damsels where they were not daubed. It added brilliancy +to many an eye--it gave a piquancy and freedom to talk, greatly +appreciated by the gallants. As for the dancing, in that crowded room +owing to the space monopolised by the prodigious hoops and the general +exhilaration, the stately minuet and sarabande were out of the question, +and the jig and country dance were much more in favour. + +In a side room cards and dicing were going on and the gamblers were not +to be drawn from the tables while they had money in their pockets. Most +of them were women, and when the grey dawn came stealing between the +curtains of the long narrow windows, overpowering the candlelight and +turning it of a pale sickly yellow, the players were still seated, with +feverish hands, haggard faces and hawk-like eyes, pursuing their race +after excitement. A silence had come over the party. The play was high +and the gamesters too absorbed to note anything but the game. From the +ball-room came the sound of violin, flute and harpsichord, shrieks of +shrill laughter, oaths from drunken wranglers and the continual thump of +feet. + +Then the servants brought in coffee, extinguished the candles and drew +back the curtains. + +"Good lord, we're more like a party of painted corpses than creatures of +flesh and blood," cried a lady with excessively rouged cheeks, bright +bird-like eyes and a long, thin hooked nose. "I declare positively I'll +play no more. Besides the luck's all one way, but 'tis not my fault. I +don't want to win every time." + +"How generous--how thoughtful of your ladyship," sarcastically remarked +a handsome woman on the other side of the table. + +"What do you mean, madam?" fiercely inquired the first speaker who was +now standing. + +"Oh, nothing madam," was the retort accompanied by a curtsey of mock +humility. "Everybody knows Lady Anastasia's pleasant way of drawing off +when she has won and the luck's beginning to turn against her." + +"I despise your insinuations madam," loftily replied Lady Anastasia, her +face where it was not rouged turning the colour of putty. "So common a +creature as Mistress Salisbury--I prefer not to soil my lips by +addressing you as _Sally_ Salisbury--I think that is the name by which +you are best known among the Cheapside 'prentices and my lord's +lackeys--ought to feel vastly honoured by being permitted to sit at the +same table with a woman of my rank." + +"Your _rank_? Indeed, you're quite right. It _is_ rank. Foh!" + +The handsome face was expressive of contemptuous abhorrence and her +gesture emphasised the expression. Lady Anastasia was goaded to fury. + +"Why, you impudent, brazen-faced Drury Lane trull! A month at Bridewell +would do you good, you----" + +Her ladyship's vocabulary of abuse was pretty extensive but it was cut +short. A dice box with the ivories inside flew across the table hurled +with the full strength of a vigorous shapely arm. This was Sally +Salisbury's retort. A corner of a dice cut the lady's lip and a drop of +blood trickled on to her chin. + +Beyond herself with rage, Lady Anastasia seized a wine glass--a somewhat +dangerous projectile, for the wine glasses of the time were large and +thick and heavy--and would have dashed it at her antagonist but one of +the players, a man, grasped her wrist and held it. + +"Let her ladyship have her chance. She's entitled to it. A duel at a +masquerade between two women of fashion! Why, it'll be the talk of the +town for a whole week," and Sally Salisbury laughed derisively. + +But so vulgar a _fracas_ was not to the taste of Lady Anastasia's +friends, besides which the attendants were alarmed and ran to prevent +further disturbance. They abstained, however, from interfering with +Sally Salisbury. Her ungovernable temper and her fear of nothing were +well known. If she once let herself go there was no telling where she +would stop. At this moment, however, her temper was under perfect +control and indeed she was rather enjoying herself. + +She rose, pushed away her chair with a backward kick to give room for +her ample hoops, and curtseying low to the company marched out of the +room without so much as a glance at her rival who was on the verge of +hysterics. + +Mistress Salisbury entered the ball-room, now tenanted by the dregs of +the company most of them more or less stupefied or excited, according to +their temperaments, by drink. In one corner was a young man whose richly +embroidered silk coat of a pale lavender was streaked with wine, whose +ruffles were torn and whose wig was awry. To him was talking in a thick +growling bass a man arrayed in a costume hardly befitting a ball-room, +unless indeed he wore it as a fancy dress. But his evil face, dark, +dirty, and inflamed by deep potations, the line of an old scar extending +from the corner of his mouth almost to his ear showing white against the +purple of his bloated cheek forbade this supposition. + +Captain Jeremy Rofflash in point of fact was very drunk. He had for the +last three or four hours been industriously engaged in getting rid of +some of the guineas of the old gentleman from Bath, in a boozing ken in +Whitefriars. Seasoned toper as he was he could carry his liquor without +it interfering with his head. About the effect on his legs he was not +quite so sure and at that moment his body was swaying ominously, but +thanks to his clutching a high backed chair he maintained his +equilibrium fairly well. + +"Idiot," snarled the young gentleman whose temper inebriation had +soured, "why the devil didn't you come here earlier? The coup might have +been brought off to-night. Gad, I want rousing. I'm just in the mood, +and the sight of that pretty, saucy, baggage--oh, you're a damned fool, +Rofflash!" + +"If Mr. Dorrimore will condescend to await my explanation," swaggered +Rofflash with drunken dignity, "he will admit that I've done nothing +foolish--nothing not permissible to a man of honour." + +"Devil take your honour." + +"Granted sir. The subject is not under discussion at the present moment. +Now, sir, what happened? As I've already informed you, I came across the +young poppinjay and the girl sweethearting on Moor Fields. She was in +his arms...." + +"In his arms! S'death! I'll run the impudent upstart through for that. +The girl's mine, by God. Where's the fellow to be found?" + +"All in good time, sir. Have a little patience. Aye, she was in his arms +but it's only fair to say that she had gone into a swoon." + +"A swoon? What the devil made her swoon? She's never swooned in _my_ +arms and I've clipped her close enough. She giggled and tittered I grant +you, but never the ghost of a swoon." + +"There's no rule for the mad humour of a woman, as you must know, Mr. +Dorrimore." + +"But swooning--that's a sign she was in earnest. She was never in +earnest with me--just a hoyden asking to be won." + +"I crave your honour's pardon. The girl was in earnest enough when she +smashed your carriage window with the heel of her shoe and leaped out +like a young filly clearing a five barred gate." + +"Pest! Don't remind me of that. It makes me sick when I think how I was +fooled and that you were such an ass as to let her slip." + +"Sir, I did my best and but for the spark who had the impudence to +thrust his nose into what didn't concern him, I'd have had her safe. But +I've made amends. I've run her to earth." + +"Satan's helped you then. Where is she?" + +"At her mother's house in the Old Bailey." + +"That's a lie." + +"Sir!" + +"I tell you it's a lie. Her mother visited me at my chambers yesterday. +She'd got the story pat of Lavinia's running away with me from school +and all the rest of it. The old woman's not much better than Mother +Needham. Faith, she's a shade worse. She agreed to let me have the girl +for fifty guineas. She'd got the chit locked up she said. I went to her +Old Bailey hovel to-day--gad, I've got the smell of the cooked meats and +boiled greens in my nostrils at this minute--and damn it, she said the +girl had run away. And now you tell me she's there." + +"I do, sir. With these eyes which I flatter myself don't often mistake +when they rest on a well turned ankle, a trim waist and a pretty face. I +swear I saw her go into the house." + +"Ecod, I suppose I must believe you," rejoined Dorrimore sullenly. "But +what do you make of it all? Did the old woman lie?" + +"Without a doubt she did. If she's of Mother Needham's tribe she can lie +like truth. Lies are half of the trade and the other half is to squeeze +the cull of as much gold as he can be fooled out of. Can't you see sir, +that her trick is to spring her price? I'll wager her fifty guineas has +swollen to a hundred when next you see her. With traffickers in virgins +the price grows as rapidly as Jonah's gourd." + +"Aye, it may be so. Well, what then? Have you got a plan?" + +Captain Jeremy Rofflash placed a dirty forefinger by the side of his +nose, slowly closed one eye and a greasy smile widened his thick, red +moist lips. + +"Have I a plan, sir? Trust Jeremy Rofflash for that. By God, sir, I'll +swear there's no man in the world readier with a plan when its wanted. +Look ye here, Mr. Dorrimore, I've the whole thing cut and dried in the +hollow of my hand. To come to the point. The old harridan means to +fleece you. _I_ don't. Damme sir, I'm a man of my word. For a hundred +guineas I'll let you into a secret and if I fail I won't ask you for a +stiver. Is that fair or isn't it?" + +"I'll swear you're no better than Mother Fenton, but I'd rather deal +with a man than a woman. Done with you for a hundred. Say on." + +"It's just this. I was within earshot when the loving pair were in +Paul's Churchyard. They're to meet at Rosamond's Pond to-morrow evening +at seven. Now what's to prevent you being beforehand with the spark? The +park's lonely enough for our purpose and you have but to have your coach +ready and a man or two. A gag whipped over her mouth and we'll have her +inside the coach within a second and not a soul be the wiser." + +"Sounds mighty well, faith. But will she come? What of her mother? Will +the woman trust her out of sight?" + +"I'll back a wench against her dam for a thousand guineas if she's set +her heart on a man. Odds bodikins, if she comes not you won't lose. _I_ +shall and it'll be the devil's own bad luck. No have, no pay. D'ye see +that my young squire?" + +Dorrimore could offer no contradiction. All that remained to be +discussed was what would follow supposing fortune favoured them, and +they subsided into a whispered conference which was after a time +interrupted by some of Dorrimore's boon companions, who carried him off +to a wild revelry in the Covent Garden taverns with the last hour at the +"Finish," the tavern of ill-repute on the south side of the market. + +Rofflash would have accompanied the party but that a hand was laid on +his arm and a masked lady whispered:-- + +"One moment, captain, I want you." + +He turned. He recognised the speaker by the lower part of her face, the +round, somewhat prominent chin, the imperious mouth with its sensual +lower lip, the bold sweeping contour from the chin to the ear. + +"Sally Salisbury--the devil!" he ejaculated. + +"Not quite, but a near relative may be," rejoined Sally with a sarcastic +laugh. "Who's the spark you're so thick with?" + +"The fool who's mad to get hold of the prettiest wench in town--Lavinia +Fenton." + +"That little trollop! I hate the creature. But there's no need to talk +of her. What of the man I paid you to track? Have you found him?" + +Rofflash watched her face, what he could see of it, for she had not +unmasked, and noted the slight quiver of the lips and the rise and fall +of her bosom. + +"Faith mistress," he chuckled with a drunken leer, "if you're not as +crazy over the beggarly scribbler as my young gallant is over the Fenton +girl who lives in the Old Bailey--at a coffee house, forsooth! Why, to +see the pother you're in one would think the hussy had put your nose out +of joint. Perhaps she has. She's fetching enough." + +Sally seized the captain's arm with a vigorous grip that showed the +intensity of her feelings. He winced and muttered an oath. + +"S'life," he burst out, "save your nails for the girl who's cut you out +with the scribbler." + +"She? You lie. What has he to do with the minx?" + +"As much as he need have to start with. Didn't he help her to escape +from Dorrimore's arms when the fool thought he had her safe?" + +"What!" screamed Sally, "Was _he_ the man?" + +"Aye. I've not yet plucked the crow between him and me for that, but by +gad, I mean to pluck it." + +"It won't be by fair means then. You're too much of a coward. See here, +you devil. Lance Vane's mine, and if you dare so much as to lay a finger +on him you will know what _I_ can do. There's but one road for gentry of +your profession--the road to Tyburn--and you'll take it if you cross me. +It'll be as easy as _that_." + +She dealt the braggart a blow across the nose and eyes with her closed +fan. The sticks snapped and in a white heat of passion she broke them +again and again and flung the fragments in the discomfited captain's +face. + +Her fury and his smarting nose somewhat sobered Rofflash. He knew well +enough that when Sally was in her cups she was capable of any deed of +violence. Years after, indeed, her temper led to her undoing when +inflamed by drink and jealousy she stabbed the Honourable John Finch at +"The Three Tuns" in Chandos Street. + +Rofflash hastened to mollify the enraged beauty, and did so effectually +when he suggested a plan by which she could mortify her rival. + +Sally heard him almost silently. Jeremy's plan was so much to her taste +that in a measure she was able to control herself, though her arms, +rigid by her sides, and her tightly clenched hands showed that her +nerves were still unstrung. + +"You see, mistress, you did me an injustice," growled Rofflash. "I have +worked for you, aye and right well. What do _I_ get for doing it?" + +"You shall have all the coin that old miser Mountchance gives me for +your next haul of trinkets. I won't touch a farthing for my trouble." + +Rofflash stipulated for money down. + +"You won't get a stiver," retorted Sally. "I'm as cleaned out as a +gutted herring. That cheating cat Anastasia bagged every shilling I +had." + +Rofflash had no reason to doubt Sally's word. He knew the phenomenal +luck which attended Lady Anastasia's play and he had to be contented +with promises. + +Thus they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF MAKING LOVE" + + +Rofflash was right. He _had_ seen Lavinia enter the Old Bailey coffee +house. Hannah was sitting up expecting her--she had arranged as much +with Lavinia--and she became terribly uneasy when midnight sounded from +half a dozen church clocks and the girl still absent. + +Hannah's bedroom overlooked the Old Bailey and now and again she leaned +out of the window, her eyes towards Ludgate Hill. Lavinia was bound to +come in this direction. Sure enough about half-past twelve Hannah caught +sight of a cloaked figure stealing along in the centre of the roadway. +It was the safest way; the overhanging storeys and the sunk doorways +offered lurking places for ill-conditioned fellows on the scent for +mischief. Hannah indeed caught sight of a man in the deep shadow of the +houses who looked very much as if he were following Lavinia, and she +raced softly down to the shop, opened the door and beckoned the girl to +hasten. + +"Merciful Heaven, what a fright you've put me in to be sure," she +whispered, throwing her arms about Lavinia. "Come in you truant. Lord, I +do believe you was born to plague me out of my seven senses. You look +tired to death. What have you been a-doing of? But don't worry to tell +me now. You must eat something first. Why, you're all of a tremble. Was +you frightened of that rascal as was dogging you?" + +"Was there one? I didn't know it." + +"One? I wonder there wasn't a dozen. A pretty young thing like you to be +in the streets at this ungodly hour. There he is a stopping now and +looking this way. Let him look. He won't see nought." + +And Hannah shut to the door with more noise than she intended, much to +Lavinia's alarm lest her mother should be aroused. + +"No fear o' that, child. Your mother's had as much gin an' beer as she +can carry. It was as good as I could do to get her up the stairs to her +bedroom. Sure she's mad about your running away out of reach. I've had a +nice time with her. But it 'ud take all the trumpets as blowed down the +walls of Jericho to wake her now." + +When the door was securely locked and bolted there was more hugging, and +Hannah's strong arms half led, half carried the girl into the kitchen +where a fire was smouldering which a bellows soon fanned into a blaze. +Eggs and bacon were put on to cook and Lavinia, curled in a roomy chair, +watched the kindly young woman's proceedings with great contentment. + +Lavinia told Hannah her story in fragments, saying nothing about +Lancelot Vane. Hannah's mind was a blank as to Pope and Gay and she was +more interested in the encounter with the highwayman. She did not ask +much about Giles, but Lavinia guessed it was a subject dear to her heart +and she did not forget to describe his mother, his cottage, and +everything about them very minutely. Nor did she omit to praise his +respectful civility and his good heart. + +"And now all's said and done, Hannah," she cried, "what's to become of +me?" + +"Aye, bless your heart, that's the trouble. This morning I put on my +considering cap an' was a-thinking and a-thinking when who should pop +her face in but my cousin Betty Higgins as lives at Hampstead. 'La, +Betty,' I says, 'where have you dropped from?' 'Ah,' says she, 'you may +well say that. I've been a-comin' for goodness knows how long knowin' as +my clothes line was a-gettin' as rotten as rotten could be. Yesterday +the wind caught the sheets and blankets as I'd just hung out an' down +they all plumped on a muddy patch an' had to be dropped in the tub +again. I wasn't a-goin' to have that happen a second time so I've come +up to buy a new line in Long Lane an' some soap at Couplands an' here I +be as large as life.' That put a notion in my head, Lavvy, my dear. I +told her about you and she's promised me a little room as she don't use +much, an' that's where you're going when you've had a sleep." + +"Oh, Hannah, how good you are," cried Lavinia between her kisses. "But +Hampstead! Why, that's where all the fashion goes! The Hampstead water +cures everything they say." + +"May be," rejoined Hannah dryly. "But there's other things besides as +I'll warrant the quality like better than the well water--nasty stuff it +is. I once drank a glass at Sam's coffee house at Ludgate where it's +brought fresh every morning and it nearly turned my stomach. There's +music an' dancing in the Pump Room and dicing and cards at Mother Huff's +near the Spaniards, aye an' lovemaking in the summer time by moonlight. +I dunno if it's a safe place for a mad young thing like you to be living +at when the sparks are roaming about." + +"Pooh!" retorted Lavinia tossing her head. "I ought to know how to take +care of myself." + +"Yes, you ought. But can you?" + +"You silly old Hannah. Hampstead can't be worse for me than London." + +"Perhaps not. If you couldn't be guarded at the Queen Square boarding +school with a female dragon as can use her eyes, why there's no place in +the world where the men won't chase you." + +"Well, it's not my fault. _I_ don't chase _them_." + +"There's no need for you to do that, you baggage. You've only got to +give any one of them a glance and he gallops after you." + +"What am I to do if I can't alter myself?" + +"Goodness knows. Things must go their own way I suppose. You can't stop +here, that's sure. It'll have to be Hampstead. But don't forget I've +warned you." + +Then they both crept up to Hannah's room, and at six o'clock the next +morning they were astir, Lavinia making a hurried breakfast and +preparing to set out on her long walk. There was no conveyance as the +stage coach on the Great North Road through Highgate and Finchley did +not start until later in the day, and Hannah, a good hearted soul never +so happy as when helping others, gave Lavinia all the money she could +spare with which to pay her sister-in-law a small sum every week. + +"I don't know what I should do but for you, Hannah dear," said Lavinia +gratefully. "It's shameful to take your money, but I swear I'll pay back +every penny, and before long too." + +"Yes, when you've married a rich man." + +"No, no. I'm not thinking of being married. I shall be earning money +soon." + +"Tilly vally! How, miss, may I ask?" + +"Ah, that's a secret. Mr. Gay says so and he ought to know." + +"It's well if he does. Your Mr. Gay seems to be taking a mighty deal of +notice of you. I only hope it'll all end well," said Hannah with a +solemn shake of the head. + +"End well? Indeed it will. Why shouldn't it?" + +Lavinia laughed confidently, and her joyful tone and her face so bright +with its contrast with her desolate condition brought a furtive tear to +Hannah's eye, but she took care not to let the girl see it. + +The morning had broken fair and by seven o'clock Lavinia was trudging +along Holborn on her way to Hampstead through what is known now as +Tottenham Court Road, then little more than a wide country lane. + +At Great Turnstile she lingered and her eyes wandered down the narrow +passage. Great Turnstile led to Lincoln's Inn Fields, and in Portugal +Row on the south side of the "Fields" was the Duke's Theatre. +Association of ideas was too strong to be resisted. Thinking of the +theatre, how could she help also thinking of Gay's encouragement as to +herself--of Lancelot Vane and his tragedy? + +Another thought was lurking at the back of her mind. She had gone to +sleep dwelling upon her promise to meet Vane at Rosamond's Pond. Did she +mean to keep that promise? She could not decide. She had given her +consent under a sort of compulsion. Was it therefore binding? At any +rate if she went to Hampstead the meeting was impossible. + +It was this last reflection which made her linger. Reasons for altering +her plans chased each other through her brain. The poor fellow would be +so disappointed if he did not see her. How long would he wait? How +wretched his garret would appear when he returned disconsolate! His +despondency might drive him to break _his_ promise to her. Where was the +harm in keeping her appointment instead of going to Hampstead? No harm +at all save that she would be behaving ungratefully to Hannah. But +Hannah would understand. Hannah was never without a sweetheart of a +sort. + +A sweetheart? That was the important point for Lavinia. Was Lancelot her +sweetheart? She wondered. She blushed at the idea. It agitated her. She +had not felt agitated when she ran away with Dorrimore--just a pleasant +thrill of excitement, a sense of adventure; that was all. Dorrimore had +made downright love to her; he had called her all the pet names in +fashion. His admiration flattered and amused her, nothing more. Vane +hadn't made love--at least it didn't seem to her that he had. But there +are so many ways of making love! + +"Hampstead's miles away," she mused. "If I go there we shall hardly ever +see each other. At all events I ought to tell him where I shall be +living. It won't be a surprise. He thinks I'm a fine lady and it's the +fashion for fine ladies to go to Hampstead at this time of the year. It +might make him jealous though," she added thoughtfully, "if he knows of +the lovemaking by moonlight Hannah talked about." + +She could decide upon nothing, and rather than loiter in Holborn while +trying to solve the problem she entered Great Turnstile passage and +presently was in the quietude of Lincoln's Inn Fields. At night she +would not have ventured to cross this big open space haunted as it was +after dark by footpads and pickpockets, but at that early hour of the +morning there was nothing to fear. Only a few people were about and in +the enclosure railed off from the roadway by posts was a horse being +broken in. The theatre was a link between her and Lancelot Vane and +thinking of him she walked towards it. + +The Fields were crossed by two roads running diagonally from opposite +corners and intersecting each other at the centre. Lavinia took the road +which led to the southwestern angle. Close by this angle was the Duke's +Theatre. + +Lavinia reached the plain unpretending structure which looked at from +the outside might be mistaken for a warehouse, and she gazed at its +blank front wondering if fate meant to be kind and give her the chance +her soul longed for. But in spite of Mr. Gay's encouraging hints it +seemed impossible that she would ever sing within its walls. + +She turned away sorrowfully and came cheek by jowl with a slenderly +built thin-faced man whose eyes twinkled humorously, and with mobile +lips that somehow suggested comicality. He stopped and stared; +apparently trying to recall some remembrance of her. She recognised him +at once. He was Jemmy Spiller the most popular comedian of the day. +Everybody who had any acquaintance with Clare Market knew Jem Spiller. +So much so that a tavern there was called after him. + +"Faith, young madam, I've seen you before," said he. "Where, pray, was +it?" + +"I've sung inside the 'Spiller's Head' more than once a year and more +ago," returned Lavinia with the demure look which was so characteristic +and at the same time so engaging. + +"What, are you that saucy little baggage? By the Lord, let me look at +you again." + +Spiller's laughing eyes roamed over her from head to foot and his shrewd +face wrinkled into the quizzical expression which had often times sent +his audience into a roar. Lavinia laughed too. + +"Aye, you haven't lost the trick of sending a look that goes straight as +an arrow to a man's heart. Tell me, was it not you that Mr. Gay took +under his wing? At the 'Maiden Head,' wasn't it?" + +"Yes. I've much to thank Mr. Gay for and you as well, Mr. Spiller. You +and your friends from the market saved me from a clawed face." + +"Why to be sure. That fury Sal Salisbury had her spurs on. She'd have +half killed you but for us coming to the spot at the right time. But, +child, what have you been doing? Hang me if you haven't sprung into a +woman in a few months." + +It was true. When Spiller last saw her she was hardly better than a waif +and stray. She was thin and bony, her growth impeded by insufficient +food, irregular hours and not a little ill usage. At Miss Pinwell's she +had lived well, she was happy, she had had love illusions and Nature had +asserted its sway. + +Lavinia coloured with pleasure. To be complimented by Spiller, the idol +of the public--an actor--and she adored actors--was like the +condescension of a god. She dropped him a low curtsey. + +"Oh, and you're in the fashion too. How long have you been a fine lady?" + +Spiller's voice and manner had become slightly serious. Lavinia was too +familiar with London life not to understand the inference. + +"I owe it all to Mr. Gay," she answered quickly. "He is the kindest +hearted man in the world. You see he spoke to her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry about me and she sent me to school in Queen Square." + +"What, you've rubbed shoulders with the quality, have you? How comes it +then that you talk to me--a rogue and a vagabond?" + +"You a rogue and a vagabond! Indeed you're not. I--I'm afraid, though, +I'm one. I doubt if her grace would notice me now." + +"The devil she wouldn't! What's happened then?" + +"Oh, it's a long story. I should tire you if I were to tell you." + +"A pretty girl tire me? What do you take me for, Polly? It is Polly, +isn't it?" + +"Mr. Gay called me Polly, but it isn't my right name." + +"Good enough for me, my dear. But what have you done? A harmless bit of +mischief when all's said, I'll swear." + +"I don't know," rejoined Lavinia slowly. "I didn't mean any harm but I +suppose I was very silly." + +"Well, let me have the catalogue of your sins and I'll be judge." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"SOME DAY YOU'LL BE THE TALK OF THE TOWN" + + +As the two paced up and down in front of the playhouse Lavinia told the +actor the whole story. Spiller smiled indulgently at the love portion of +the narrative, but was impressed by the test Lavinia had gone through at +Pope's Villa and by Gay's belief in her future. + +In Spiller's opinion there was no reason why Lavinia should not succeed +as a comedy actress. Her want of experience was nothing. Her natural +vivacity and intelligence were everything. Experience would soon come. +What actress who in those days became celebrated had had much training +before she went on the boards? Where was the opportunity with but four +theatres in London and one of them devoted to opera? + +People were still living who could remember Kynaston the beautiful youth +as the sole representative of women's parts before actresses were known +on the stage. Nell Gwynne came from the gutter, and Nance Oldfield from +a public house in St. James's Market. Mrs. Barry had possibly had some +training under Davenant, who secured her an engagement, and she was at +first a failure. She was destined for tragedy and tragic actresses are +not made in five minutes, but comedy demanded little more than inborn +sprightliness and high spirits. Lavinia had both, and she could sing. + +Spiller, comedian as he was, possessed what we now call the artistic +temperament. He was not contented with the mannerisms which provoke a +laugh and because they never vary--the characteristic of many comedians +who like to be recognised and applauded directly they step upon the +stage. Spiller bestowed the greatest pains upon his "make up", and so +identified himself with the part he was playing as completely to lose +his own personality, and bewildered his audience as to whether he was +their favourite they were applauding. He had the art of acting at his +fingers' ends. + +"Child," said he when Lavinia had finished, "Mr. Gay and Dr. Pepusch did +not mistake. You've but to observe and work and some day you'll be the +talk of the town." + +"Do you really mean that, Mr. Spiller?" + +The girl's voice was tremulous with delight. Spiller's praise was of +greater value than Gay's. He was an actor and knew. + +"I shouldn't say so if I didn't. I mustn't lose sight of you. A pity +you'll be staying at Hampstead. I'd like to take you to Mr. Rich. You +ought to be near at hand." + +"But I don't want to go to Hampstead. I hate the very notion," cried +Lavinia breathlessly. "If I could only find a lodging in town!" + +"That might be managed. There are lodgings to be had in the house in +Little Queen Street where Mrs. Egleton lives. But have you any money?" + +"Enough to keep me for a week. Maybe Mr. Rich would find something for +me to do. I can dance as well as sing." + +"I'll warrant you, but John Rich does all the dancing himself, and as +for singing--he doesn't think much of it. But we'll see. Wouldn't your +friend the duchess help you?" + +"I don't know. I'm afraid I'm out of her grace's favour," said Lavinia +dolefully. "Besides, she might want to send me back to Queen Square. +Lud, I couldn't bear that. Miss Pinwell wouldn't have me, though," she +added in a tone of relief. + +"I'll wager she wouldn't," said Spiller dryly. "She'd be in mortal fear +of the whole of her young ladies following your example and running away +with the town sparks. Well, we'll see what can be done for you, Polly, +though I fear me I'm going to have a sad pickle on my hands." + +"Oh, pray don't say that, Mr. Spiller. What's happened was not my +doing." + +"Of course not. But let us to Little Queen Street. If Mrs. Egleton is in +the mood she may be of use to you. But take care not to ruffle her +plumes. You've heard of her I doubt not?" + +"Oh, yes. I saw her once at Drury Lane. She sings does she not, sir?" + +"Aye, so mind and not outsing her." + +They walked along the western side of the Fields to Little Queen Street, +where the houses were substantial enough, though not nearly so imposing +as those in Great Queen Street where many noblemen and rich people +lived. + +Spiller was well known to the proprietor of the house, where Mrs. +Egleton lodged and was received with effusion. Mrs. Egleton was not up, +as indeed Spiller expected, nor would she be until past mid-day. But +this did not matter. The landlady had a front attic vacant which she was +willing to let to anyone recommended by Mr. Spiller for a very small +sum, and here Lavinia installed herself. + +"Have a rest, Polly, and something to eat," said Spiller. "I shall call +for you about eleven o'clock. I want you to look your best. We're going +to see Mr. Rich. Heaven give us luck that we may find him in good +humour." + +"Do you mean this morning?" cried Lavinia, in dismay. + +"Well, I don't mean this evening. You're not afraid, are you?" + +"No, I don't think I am, but--but I would that I had a new gown and +cloak. See how frightfully draggled they are." + +"Odds bodikins, Mr. Rich doesn't want to see how you're gowned. Mrs. +Sanders will lend you a needle and thread and help you patch yourself." + +Lavinia would have protested but Spiller laughed away her objections, +and departed with a final injunction to be in readiness when he called. + +When the girl was alone she looked around her new abode with interest +and curiosity. The room was small; it had a sloping roof coming so low +at one end where the bed was that she would have to take care not to +strike her head against the ceiling when she sat up. The furniture was +scanty and plain but the place was clean. For the first time in her life +she was completely her own mistress. She sank into a roomy arm-chair, +and surveyed her domain with much satisfaction; then she half closed her +eyes and indulged in a day dream. + +Everything in the most wonderful way had turned out for the best. She +dreaded being banished to Hampstead. It had threatened insuperable +obstacles in the way of her love and her ambition. She had felt that she +was going into exile. But all was now smooth. Her scruples about keeping +her promise to Vane vanished. If only her visit to Mr. Rich proved +successful, her happiness would be complete. + +The time sped in her roseate musings. She had had a rest as Spiller +advised and springing up she attacked her ragged attire with renewed +energy. When Spiller called, she looked so fresh and animated the +comedian laughed and complimented her. + +"Gadsooks," he exclaimed, "you clever hussy! It's well our plans are +altered. If Rich not only offered thee an engagement but made love into +the bargain then the fat would be in the fire. He hath a termagant of a +wife. She'd as lief scratch your face as look at you. But thank the Lord +you're safe." + +"Safe? I don't understand," cried Lavinia a little flustered. "Am I not +to see Mr. Rich then?" + +"Not yet. Didn't I say our plans are altered? The Duke's is in turmoil. +Rich let the theatre to Huddy and his company of strolling players--at +least Huddy says he did--and has now cried off the bargain and Huddy is +turned out. Rich hasn't any play ready so it's no use taking you to +him." + +"Oh, how unlucky! I shan't have any chance after all." + +Poor Lavinia almost broke down. The shattering of her castle in the air +was more than she could endure. + +"Not with Rich just yet. But don't despair. Huddy has taken his company +to the New Theatre and it'll go hard if I don't talk him into putting +you into a part. It may be all for the best. You'd only get a promise +out of Rich whereas Huddy might be glad to get you. He's in a mighty +hurry to open the theatre. We'll go at once to the Haymarket." + +Lavinia was a little disappointed, but not dismayed. After all an +immediate entrance into the magical stage world was the important point. +She had to begin somewhere, and to play at the New Theatre was not like +playing in an inn yard or mumming booth. + +They reached the stage door of the New Theatre, afterwards called the +Little Theatre in the Haymarket, which it may be said in passing was not +quite on the site of the present Haymarket Theatre. The entrance was +small, the passage beyond was dark and they had to grope their way to +the stage, which lighted as it was by half a dozen candles or so was +gloomy enough. The daylight struggled into the audience part through a +few small windows above the gallery. A rehearsal was going on, and a red +faced man with a hoarse voice was stamping about and shouting at the +performers. When he saw Spiller he stopped and came towards the +comedian. Compared with Huddy, Spiller was a great man. + +Spiller stated his business and introduced Lavinia. The manager stared +at her, shifted his wig, scratched his head and grunted something to the +effect that he couldn't afford to pay anybody making a first appearance. + +"Look 'ee here, Mr. Spiller. It's my benefit and my company don't expect +a penny. D'ye see! I've been used in a rascally fashion by that +scoundrel Rich, and I'll have to raise a few guineas afore I can start +in the country." + +Spiller saw the position and said that the young lady who he was careful +to point out was a "gentlewoman" was quite willing to appear on these +terms and so the matter was settled. + +"She won't have much of a part. We're playing 'The Orphan' and all I can +give her is Serina. I've had to make shift with the young 'oman as +carries the drum and looks after the wardrobe. It's likely as the young +gentlewoman'll do as well as her, a careless, idle slut as don't know +how to speak her words decently." + +Nor did Mr. Huddy, Lavinia thought. But this was nothing. The owner of a +travelling play acting booth was as a rule an illiterate showman. + +"When do you rehearse 'The Orphan?'" asked Spiller. + +"We're a-doing of it now. It's just over or the young gentlewoman--you +haven't told me her name----" + +"Fenton--Lavinia Fenton." + +"Oh, aye. I was a-going to say that if we hadn't finished Miss Fenton +might stay and get some notion of the play. Let her come +to-morrow--half-past ten, sharp, mind." + +"Do you hear that, Polly?" said Spiller in an undertone. + +"I shan't fail, sir, you may be sure," replied Lavinia joyfully. + +Spiller knew some of the company and he introduced Lavinia to the +leading lady, Mrs. Haughton, who was to play the mournful, weeping +Monimia in Otway's dismal tragedy. But for Spiller the "star" actress +would hardly have deigned to notice the girl; as it was she received +Lavinia with affability marked by condescension. Mrs. Haughton was a +"star," who did not care to associate with strolling players. + +Lavinia left the theatre in the seventh heaven of delight. Everything +she had wished for was coming to pass. She longed for the evening. She +saw herself telling the wonderful tale of her good luck to Lancelot. She +was sure of his warm sympathy and she pictured to herself his smile and +the ardent look in his eyes. + +Spiller suggested a walk in the Mall so that he might give the novice a +few practical hints. Huddy had handed Lavinia her part written out, but +it did not tell her much, as everything the other characters in the play +had to say was omitted and only the cues for Serina left. + +"Just sixteen lines you've got to learn. That won't give you much +trouble. I'll show you how to say them. Don't forget to listen for the +cues and come in at the proper place." + +The lesson did not take long. Lavinia soon had a grasp of the character +(Serina figures in the play as a bit of padding and has very little to +do); her articulation was clear and she could modulate her voice +prettily. Spiller said she would do very well, and wishing her good +luck, took his departure and left her in St. James's Park. + +He could not have done Lavinia a better turn. Rosamond's Pond was at the +south-west corner of the Park and Rosamond's Pond was in Lavinia's mind. +It had occurred to her that Lancelot had not fixed any particular spot +as the place of meeting. The pond was of a fair size, it would be dark +and it might so happen that while he was waiting for her on one side she +might be on the other. Still, this was scarcely likely, for they would +both approach the Pond from the east. + +However, there would be no harm in fixing the bearings of the pond in +her mind and so she crossed the park and skirting the formal canal now +transformed into the ornamental water, reached the pond which was at the +end of Birdcage Walk near Buckingham House, an enlarged version of which +is known to us to-day as Buckingham Palace. + +The pond was amidst picturesque surroundings. There was nothing of the +primness which William III. had brought with him from Holland. The +trees had been allowed to grow as they pleased, the shrubs were +untrimmed, the grass uncut. The banks of the pond were steep in places, +shelving in others. Here and there were muddy patches left by the water +receding after heavy rains. But the wildness and the seclusion had their +attractions, and little wonder was it that love had marked Rosamond's +Pond as its own. + +There was something like a promenade on the higher ground to the east. +Here it was dry and Lavinia decided that this was the most likely spot +which Lancelot would select. Moreover, a path from the Mall near St. +James's Palace led direct to the Pond and by this path Vane would be +sure to come. + +The crisp air was exhilarating and the young grass gave it sweetness. +The twittering of the birds suggested a passage of love. The mid-day sun +shone upon the distant Abbey and very romantic did its towers look +against the blue sky. + +Lavinia's spirits rose. She felt very happy. Her real life was +beginning. All that had happened, her mad escapade with Dorrimore, the +baseness of her mother, her escape from the house in the Old Bailey, her +many trials and tribulations were mere trifles to be forgotten as soon +as possible. But her thoughts of Lancelot Vane--oh, they were serious +enough. There was no pretence about them. And to fill her cup of joy +would be her first appearance on the stage! + +For a brief space this overpowered everything. Coming to a bench she sat +down, drew out the manuscript of the play and read over her part and +recalled everything Spiller had said about the various points. When she +rose she knew the lines and the cues by heart. Then it occurred to her +that she was hungry and she pursued her way back to her lodgings in +Little Queen Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AT ROSAMUND'S POND + + +In the course of the day Lavinia made the acquaintance of Mrs. Egleton. +The landlady had told the actress how Spiller had brought Lavinia and +how the latter was to appear at the New Theatre. Mrs. Egleton, a dark +young woman somewhat pallid and with eyes which suggested that she had a +temper which she would be ready to show if put out, was languid and +patronising. Though it was past noon the lady had not long got out of +bed, and her dress was careless, her hair straggling, her complexion +sallow and the dark half circles beneath her eyes were significant of +nerve exhaustion. She had in fact the night before sat up late gaming, +dancing, eating, drinking--especially drinking--with a party of friends. +The time was to come when she and Lavinia would be closely associated, +but at that moment it was the last thing that entered into the heads of +either. + +Mindful of her appointment Lavinia set out early. She had taken great +pains over her toilet and she looked very attractive. She had no need of +paint and powder. Excitement had brought a flush to her cheek. The +fluttering of her heart, the impatience at the lagging time were new +sensations. She had experienced nothing like this disturbing emotion +when she set out on a much more hazardous enterprise to meet Archibald +Dorrimore. The difference puzzled her but she did not trouble to seek +the reason. It did not occur to her that she was really and truly in +love with Lancelot Vane. + +She had plenty of time to reach the trysting place, but to walk slowly +was impossible. Her nerves were in too much of a quiver. It hardly +wanted a half hour of seven o'clock when she entered upon the path, +leading from St. James's Palace to the pond. + +Vane was not less desirous of being punctual than Lavinia, and he had +indeed arrived at Rosamond's Pond some five minutes before her. While he +was impatiently pacing by the side of the water and anxiously looking +along the path by which he expected she would come, a lady whose dress +was in the height of the mode and masked approached him. In those days a +mask did not necessarily imply mystery. A mask was worn to serve as a +veil and a woman with her features thus hidden did not excite more +attention than that of mere curiosity. Vane had noticed her turning her +face towards him as she passed, but thought nothing of it. + +Suddenly she stopped, stepped back a pace and whispered softly:-- + +"Mr. Vane, is it not?" + +"That is my name, madam." + +"Ah, I hoped I was not mistaken. You don't remember me?" + +"I beg your forgiveness if I say I do not." + +"Nor a certain night not long ago when you were flying from a ruffianly +mob and you sought the shelter of my house? But may be you've a short +memory. Mine isn't so fleeting. Men's kisses are lightly bestowed. Women +are different. I shall never forget the tender touch of your lips." + +She sighed, lifted her mask for a moment and replaced it. To Vane's +infinite confusion he recognised Sally Salisbury. + +"Madam," he faltered, "I--I venture to suggest that you're under a +misapprehension. It was not I who kissed." + +Sally drew herself up with a disdainful air. She had a fine figure and +she knew how to display it. + +"What?" she cried. "Do you dare to deny your farewell embrace?" + +"Madam--really I----" + +He was more embarrassed than ever. It was untrue to say that he had +kissed her. The kisses were hers and hers alone, but it would be +ungallant to tell her so. He cursed the evil star which had chanced to +throw her against him at such a crisis. Lavinia might make her +appearance at any moment and what would she think? + +But the stars had nothing to do with the matter, nor chance either. It +was a ruse, a worked out design between Sally and Rofflash to secure +Vane and spite Lavinia whom she hated more than enough. + +Meanwhile Lavinia was drawing near. Mistress Salisbury had shifted her +position and had manoeuvred so as she could glance down the path to St. +James's Palace and perforce Vane had his back towards it. Sally's sharp +eyes caught sight of a figure which she shrewdly guessed was Lavinia's. + +Preparing herself for a crowning piece of craft, Sally suddenly relaxed +her rigidity and inclined langorously towards Vane who had no +alternative save catching her. No sooner did she feel his arms than she +sank gracefully into them, her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"Madam," stammered the troubled young man, "pray recollect yourself. I +protest----" + +"Protest! Oh, how cruel--how hard hearted! I love you. Can you hear me +make such a confession and be unmoved? I throw myself at your feet." + +"For God's sake, madam, don't do anything so foolish." + +He could feel her slipping gradually to the ground and he could not but +hold her tighter, and so did exactly what she was angling for. + +"It's Heaven to feel your embrace," she murmured. "Dear--dearest +Lancelot. Oh, if you only knew how I've longed and prayed we might meet! +I never thought to see you again, and here, without a moment's warning, +I'm face to face with you. Can you wonder I'm unable to control myself? +I know it's folly--weakness--anything you like to call it. I don't care. +I love you and that's all I know. Kiss me, Lancelot!" + +The unhappy Vane was at his wits' end. The more he tried to release +himself the closer she clung to him. Who seeing them could doubt that +they were ardent lovers? Sally's last words were uttered in a tone of +reckless passion, partly stimulated, partly real. She had raised her +voice purposely. She knew its penetrating accents would reach the ears +for which the loving words were really intended. She saw Lavinia who was +hastening towards them stop suddenly, then her figure swayed slightly, +her head bent forward, and in a few moments there was hesitation. +Finally she wheeled round and fled. + +Sally Salisbury had secured a complete victory so far as her rival was +concerned, but she had not won Lancelot Vane. She did not delude herself +into the belief that she had, but her triumph would come. + +Vane succeeded in wrenching himself free, but not for some minutes. On +one excuse or another she detained him and it was only on his promising +to meet her the following night at Spring Gardens that he managed to +make his escape. It was too late. In vain he waited for Lavinia, but she +came not. He was plunged in the depths of disappointment. + +"She never meant to keep her word," he muttered savagely and strode +along the path towards St. James's Palace, hoping against hope that he +might chance to meet her. + +Lancelot Vane was not the only man in the park at that moment who was +angered at Lavinia's non-appearance. When Vane was trying to repel +Sally's embarrassing caresses a coach stopped on the western side of the +Park at the point nearest to Rosamond's Pond. The coach could have been +driven into the Park itself, but this could not be done without the +King's permission. Two men got out and walked rapidly to the pond. + +"A quarter past seven," said one drawing his watch from his fob. "The +time of meeting, Rofflash, you say was seven." + +"Aye, and they'll be punctual to the minute, I'll swear." + +"Then we ought to find the turtle doves billing and cooing. A thousand +pities we couldn't get the coach nearer. Damn His Majesty King George, +say I." + +"Talk under your breath, Mr. Dorrimore, if you must air your traitorous +speeches," whispered Rofflash. "You don't seem to know that what you've +been saying is little short of 'God save King James,' which is treason +in any case and doubly dyed treason when uttered in the Royal Park." + +"Treason or not, I vow that if my coach were more handy it would help us +vastly. Carrying the girl a few yards were an easy matter and a squeal +or two of no consequence, but five hundred yards--pest take it." + +"S'blood, sir, she's no great weight and with so precious a burden in +your arms 't'would be but a whet to appetite. Still, if you're unequal +to the task, pray command me. I'd take her and willing." + +"That I'll swear you would. Wait till I call on you. What of that pair +by the pond? Curse it, but I believe they're our quarries. She has two +arms round his neck. The wanton baggage! And she once protested she +loved me! On to 'em, Rofflash. Engage the fellow while I handle the +wench. Eh?--Why--look ye there, captain. He's thrown her off. He's +going. A tiff I'll swear. What a piece of luck! She's by herself. Now's +our time. Bustle, damn you." + +Rofflash made a show of bustling, but it was nothing but show. The +mature damsel from whom Vane had hurried was half a head taller than +Lavinia. He knew who she was perfectly well, for had he not plotted with +Sally Salisbury to meet Lancelot Vane, to the discomfiture of Lavinia +Fenton? + +The crafty Rofflash had contrived to have two strings to his bow. +Dorrimore would pay him to help abduct Lavinia, and Sally would do the +same for his good offices concerning Vane. He had certainly succeeded in +the latter case, but as to Lavinia, the certainty was not so evident. +She was nowhere to be seen. Dorrimore, however, for the moment was under +the impression that the woman who was standing gazing at Vane's +retreating figure was Lavinia and it was not Rofflash's game to +undeceive him. + +Dorrimore soon discovered his mistake. + +"Sally Salisbury! The devil!" + +Of course he recognised her. What fashionable profligate young or old +would not? + +"Why Archie," rejoined the lady laughingly and making him a mocking +curtsey, "were you looking for me? Faith, I'm glad of it. A bottle of +Mountain port would be exactly to my taste." + +"Was that your gallant who left you just now?" + +"One of them," said Sally coolly. + +Dorrimore turned angrily to Rofflash. + +"What the devil does this mean? Have you tricked me?" + +"I'll swear I haven't. If anybody's been playing tricks it's that crazy +cat Sally," returned Rofflash in a low voice. "Your bird can't have +flown very far. Her man was here, you see. Let's follow him. We're bound +to light upon them together." + +The suggestion was as good as any other. Dorrimore refreshed himself +with a string of the latest oaths in fashion and set off with the +scheming captain, leaving Sally somewhat provoked. She had had many a +guinea from Dorrimore, and was in the mood to get more now that her +spite against Lavinia was gratified. + +The two men raced off at the double, Dorrimore's rage increasing the +further he went. It looked as if his plan to kidnap Lavinia had broken +down. The idea had been to waylay her before she joined Vane. As the +thing was turning out, she promised, when found, to be at so great a +distance from the coach that to convey her there would be difficult. + +Before long they hove in sight of Lancelot Vane. He too was hurrying +and looking right and left as he went. And he was alone. + +"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That +wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash, +I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him." + +"And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against +the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll +say good evening. I'll have nought to do with such folly. We'll find +some other way to lay the spark by the heels and have the girl as well. +My advice is not to show yourself or you'll put him on his guard." + +Dorrimore, whose head was not particularly strong, had had a couple of +bottles with his dinner to give him spirit for the enterprise, and he +allowed himself to be persuaded. He and Rofflash betook themselves to +the coach which landed them at a tavern in St. James's Street, where +Dorrimore drank and drank until he fell under the table and was carried +out by a couple of waiters, put in a hackney coach and conveyed to his +chambers in the Temple. + +Rofflash left his patron at the tavern long before this period arrived. +He was on the search for Mistress Salisbury and knowing her haunts +pretty well, he ran her to earth at a house of questionable repute in +the neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Sally had had more to drink than the +bottle of Mountain port her soul had craved for and was inclined to be +boisterous, but her temper was apt to be uncertain. It was a toss up +whether she laughed, cried or flew into a passion. She was inclined to +the first if she thought of her triumph over Lavinia and to the last +when Lancelot Vane and her failure to seduce him from his allegiance +came into her mind. + +Sally often boasted she could win any man if she gave her mind to the +task, but Vane had escaped her toils. Perhaps it was that she had a +genuine passion for him and so had not used her powers of fascination. +The more she drank, the more she cursed herself for having allowed Vane +to slip through her fingers, and being in a reckless mood, she said as +much to Rofflash. Otherwise she would hardly have made a confidant of a +fellow who combined swash-buckling with highway robbery. + +"What!" jeered Captain Jeremy, "Sally Salisbury own herself beaten over +a man. I'd as lief believe my old commander the great Duke Marlborough +crying he couldn't thrash the mounseers. I'll swear you didn't let him +go without getting the promise of an assignation out of him." + +"A promise? Don't talk of promises. It's easier to get a promise out of +a man than his purse." + +"Lord, madam, if it's the purse of that vapouring young spark you're +after, you'll be wasting your labour. You'll find it as empty as yonder +bottle. I'll swear now that you set greater store by his heart." + +Rofflash glanced shrewdly at Sally's face. Her lips were working +convulsively. He knew he was right. + +"You're a cunning devil, captain. You've the wheedling tongue of Satan +himself and his black soul, too, I doubt not. You're all ears and eyes +when money's to be picked up. Take that for what you did for me +to-night." + +Sally drew five guineas from her pocket and flung them on the table. A +couple would have rolled on to the floor, but Rofflash grabbed them in +time. Sally burst into one of her hard, mirthless laughs. + +"Trust you for looking after coin. See here, you Judas. Vane promised to +meet me at Spring Gardens to-morrow night. When I see him I shall +believe him, not before. You must work it so that he comes." + +"Hang me, Sally, but that's a hard nut to crack." + +"Not too hard for your tiger's teeth. I'll double those five guineas if +you bring it off." + +Rofflash relished the proposition, but he pretended to find difficulties +and held out for higher pay. To Sally money was as water. She agreed to +make the ten into fifteen. Rofflash swearing that he'd do his best, took +his departure and left the lady, like Archibald Dorrimore, to drink +herself into insensibility. + +"The devil looks after his own," chuckled Rofflash as he swaggered down +the Strand. "It'll go hard if I don't squeeze fifty guineas out of that +idiot Dorrimore over to-morrow night's work! He'd give that to have the +pleasure of running the scribbler through the body. Lord, if I'd +breathed a word of _that_ to Sally! No fool like an old fool, they say. +Bah! The foolishest thing in Christendom is a woman when she's in love." + +And Captain Jeremy Rofflash plodded on, well pleased with himself. He +took the road which would lead him to Moorfields and Grub Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"WHAT DID I TELL THEE, POLLY?" + + +Lavinia went to her first rehearsal in a strange confusion of spirits, +but came through the ordeal successfully. She was letter perfect, and +she remembered all Spiller's instructions. Mr. Huddy was pleased to say +that he thought she would do. + +She left the theatre for her lodgings in Little Queen Street in a +flutter of excitement. Otway's "Orphan" might be dull and lachrymose, +the part of Serina might be insignificant, but to Lavinia the play was +the most wonderful thing. It meant a beginning. She had got the chance +she had longed for. She saw herself in imagination a leading lady. + +But when she returned to her lodgings a reaction set in. She was +depressed. Life had suddenly become drab and dull. She was thinking of +Lancelot Vane, but not angrily, as was the case the previous night when +she walked away her head high in the air after seeing Sally +Salisbury--of all women in the world!--in his arms. She was in a tumult +of passion, and when that subsided tears of indignation rushed to her +eyes. She made no excuses for her recreant lover, no allowances for +accidents and misadventures. She did not, indeed, think he had set out +to insult her, but the unhappy fact was patent that he knew the wanton +Sally, and that he had a tender regard for her. Lavinia's reading of the +thing was that in her anxiety she had arrived at the trysting place too +soon. Ten minutes later and Vane would have got rid of his old love and +taken on with his new one. Oh, it was humiliating to think of! + +Lavinia walked away in her rage. By the time she reached Little Queen +Street, the storm had passed. She had arrived at the conclusion that all +men were faithless, selfish, dishonourable. For the future she would +have naught to do with them. + +The excitement of the rehearsal, the sense of independence she felt when +all was got through with credit, lent her buoyancy, but it did not last. +The dream she had once had of playing to an audience and seeing only +Lancelot Vane in the first row of the pit applauding and eager to +congratulate her, was gone. She was done with him for ever. So she told +herself. And to strengthen this resolve she recalled his weaknesses, his +vacillation, his distrust in himself, his lapses into inebriety. Yet no +sooner had she gone over his sins than she felt pity and inclined to +forgiveness. But not forgiveness for his faithlessness. That was +unpardonable. + +Mrs. Egleton, her fellow lodger, had the night before gone to bed sober +and was inclined to be complaisant and to interest herself in Lavinia. +She was pleased to hear that Huddy had praised her. + +"If he asks you to join his company, don't you refuse," said Mrs. +Egleton. "He's got a rough tongue when he's put out, but he knows his +business. Three months' experience will do wonders. I must come and see +you on _the_ night. When is it to be?" + +Lavinia said she hadn't the least idea. + +"Oh, well, you'll soon know." + +Mrs. Egleton was right. In the next issue of the _Daily Post_ appeared +this advertisement:-- + + + "At the desire of several persons of quality for the benefit of Mr. + Huddy, at the New Theatre in the Haymarket. To-morrow being + Thursday, the 24th day of February, will be presented a tragedy + called 'The Orphan; or, the Unhappy Marriage,' written by the late + Mr. Otway, with a new prologue to be spoken by Mr. Roger, who plays + the part of Chamont. The part of Acasto by Mr. Huddy; Monimia, Mrs. + Haughton; the page, Miss Tollet; and the part of Serina by a + gentlewoman who never appear'd on any stage before. With singing in + Italian and English by Mrs. Fitzgerald. And the original trumpet + song of sound fame, as set to musick by Mr. Henry Purcel, to be + performed by Mr. Amesbury." + + +Lavinia read this over twice and thrilled with delight. She ran with the +paper to Mrs. Egleton. + +"Mercy on me, child!" cried the actress. "So you're a gentlewoman, are +you?" + +"The paper says I am, so I suppose it's true," said Lavinia, casting +down her eyes demurely. + +"If you are, it'll be a wonder. Not many women players are, I may tell +you for your satisfaction. Who was your father?" + +"I don't know. I can't remember him." + +"Well, you're in the fashion there. Few of us are better off than you. +But what matters father or mother? You're in the world, and after all +that's as much as you need trouble about. As for your mother--but I +won't bother you about _her_. A mother's not much good to her daughter. +She mostly looks to make money out of her by a rich marriage, not that +she's over particular about the marriage so long as there's plenty of +coin." + +Lavinia did not contradict Mrs. Egleton's cynical views. From her own +experience she knew it was very often true. + +The 24th was a fortnight ahead--plenty of time for the play to be in +readiness. Huddy had no fear about the performance. What concerned him +more nearly was his "benefit" money. He busied himself in canvassing his +patrons and the disposal of tickets. + +The night came. Lavinia was wrought to a high pitch of excitement, but +her excitement was pleasurable. The scenery, albeit it would be scoffed +at nowadays, was to her magnificent. The costumes were gorgeous. It was +nothing that they smelt musty from having laid long in the theatre +wardrobe. The incongruity of many of the garments gave her no pang of +uneasiness. "The Orphan" was of no particular period. Dresses which had +done duty in Shakespearean tragedies, in classical plays of the Cato +type, in the comedies of the Restoration dramatists, were equally +admissible. The circumscribed space afforded the players by the +intrusion on the stage of the seats for the "quality" did not embarrass +her. The combined odours of oranges and candle snuff had their charm. + +The house was full, but in the dim and smoky candlelight the faces of +the audience were little better than rows of shadowy masks. The pit +occupied the entire floor of the house right up to the orchestra. Here +the critics were to be found. The pit could make or mar the destiny of +plays, and the reputation of players. Dozens of regular playgoers knew +the traditions of the theatre better than many actors and actresses. +They were sticklers for the preservation of the stage "business" to +which they had been accustomed. They knew certain lines of their +favourite plays by heart, and how those lines ought to be delivered. + +The curtain rose. Acasto, Monimia, Chamont mouthed their various parts, +and did exactly what was expected from them. Curiosity was excited only +when Serina, the daughter of Acasto, in love with Chamont, made her +appearance. Lavinia's winsome face, her eyes half tender, half alluring, +her pretty mouth with not an atom of ill nature in its curves, her +sympathetic voice, at once attracted the audience. It was a pity, +everyone felt, she had so little to say and do. Her few lines expressed +but one sentiment--her love for Chamont. + +Lavinia played the part as if she felt it, which was indeed the fact, +for she was thinking of Lancelot Vane all the time. When she came to her +final words in the fifth act-- + + + "If any of my family have done thee injury, + I'll be revenged and love thee better for it" + + +the house thundered its applause, so naturally and with such genuine +pathos were they delivered. + +The curtain fell. The gallants who had seats on the stage crowded round +the "young gentlewoman" and showered compliments. A few privileged +people from the front of the house who found their way behind were +equally enthusiastic. Even Mrs. Haughton--the Monimia of the +play--deigned to smile approvingly. + +"What did I tell thee, Polly?" she heard a pleasant if somewhat husky +voice whisper in her ear. + +She knew the tones and turned quickly. John Gay's kindly eyes were +beaming upon her. He had come with Jemmy Spiller, and with a stout man +from whose broad red face a look of drollery was rarely absent. This was +Hippisley, a comedian with a natural humour which was wont to set an +audience in a roar. + +Lavinia blushed with pleasure and cast a grateful look at Spiller, whose +hints had proved so valuable. + +"Was I not right, Spiller?" went on Gay. "You've read my opera, what +there is of it that's finished. Won't Polly Peachum fit her like a +glove?" + +"Aye, if she can sing as prettily as she acted to-night," said Spiller, +with a quizzical glance at the girl. + +"Sing? My lad, she has the voice of a nightingale. Pepusch agrees with +me. I'll swear there's no singing woman outside the King's Theatre--or +inside, for the matter of that--who can hold a candle by the side of +her. Have you forgotten the pretty baggage who so charmed us at the +Maiden Head?" + +"Not I, faith. I was but jesting. And so you've fixed upon her. But I +hear that Mr. Rich has set his face against so many songs. He won't take +your Polly merely because she can sing." + +"Mr. Rich is a fool--in some things," rejoined Gay hastily. "He can +dance, I grant you, and posture as no other man can, and he thinks he +can act! I heard him once at a party of friends. My good Spiller, if his +vanity ever prompted him to air his voice on the stage, the people would +think he was mocking them, and one half would laugh and the other half +boo and hiss." + +"I know--I know. Still, he holds command, and he likes his own way, no +man better." + +"No doubt, but whatever a man wills he has to give up when a woman says +yea or nay. My good duchess means to have a word with him over the +songs." + +"If that's so John Rich had better capitulate at once. He's as good as +beaten." + +Lavinia could only catch a word of this talk here and there. She was +being pestered by half a dozen sparkish admirers who were somewhat taken +aback when they discovered that the "gentlewoman who had never appear'd +on any stage before" could more than hold her own in repartee and give +the fops of fashion as good as or better than they gave. How could they +tell that the sprightly young budding actress had graduated in the wit +and slang of the streets? + +But she was pestered and peeved all the same, for she dearly wanted to +talk to Gay and Spiller. At last the modish gadflies got tired of having +their smart talk turned against them, and one by one fell off, +especially as Huddy, whose blunt speech was not much to their taste, +came up and intruded without apology into their vapid banter. + +"The gal's done well, Spiller," said Huddy, "and I'm obleeged to ye. Now +I want to get on the road and waste no time about it. I ought to be at +Woolwich afore a fortnight's over, then Dartford, Gravesend, Rochester, +Maidstone, and so away on to Dover. What d'ye say, miss? I can give ye a +good engagement--no fixed salary in course--sharing out, that's the rule +with travelling companies--Mr. Spiller knows what I'm a'telling you is +right." + +Lavinia hardly knew what to say to this, and she turned to Spiller for +advice. Huddy saw the look of doubt on her face, and went on with his +argument. + +"It's this way, miss. I don't say as you didn't play to-night to my +satisfaction--thanks to my rehearsing of you--but you've got a lot to +learn, and, by God, you won't learn it better anywhere in the world than +with me. Ask Mr. Spiller--ask Mr. Hippisley. They know what's what, and +they'll tell you the same." + +Spiller nodded. + +"You've made a good beginning, but the more practice you have the +better. Isn't that so, Mr. Gay? Mr. Gay has great hopes of you, my dear +and--but you'd better hear what he has to say." + +"Oh, I should dearly love to," murmured Lavinia. + +They were now in the green room. Mrs. Fitzgerald was on the stage +singing "in English and French," and her shrill tones penetrated the +thin walls greatly to Gay's discomfort. The lady's voice was not +particularly sweet. + +"Let us walk apart, Polly," said he. "We shan't hear that noise so +keenly." + +He took her arm and placed it beneath his. + +"Spiller's right, my dear. I have great hopes of you, but your chance +won't come for months. The time won't be lost if you work hard at +everything Huddy puts in your way. You'll have plenty of variety, but +you won't earn much money. The sharing out system puts the lion's +portion into the manager's pocket. But that can't be helped. Still, if +you want money--the duchess----" + +"Oh, Mr. Gay," broke in Lavinia anxiously, "I've been sorely worried +thinking of her grace. Have you told her?--I mean about me running away +from school and--and----" + +Gay laughed and playfully pinched her cheek. + +"The love story, eh? Yes, I told the duchess, and she was vastly +entertained. She's a woman of infinite spirit and she likes other women +to have spirit too. She's not without romance--and I wouldn't give a +thank-you for her if she were. If you'd run off out of restlessness or a +mere whim or fit of temper, I doubt if she'd troubled about you further; +but love--that was another thing altogether. Oh, and your courage in +escaping from that dissolute rascal--that captured her. My dear, +Queensberry's Duchess is your friend. She's as desirous as I am that you +should be Polly Peachum in my 'Beggar's Opera,' and when I tell her +about to-night she'll be overjoyed. You need not fear about the future +save that it depends upon yourself. But Polly, what of the young +playwright, Lancelot Vane?" + +"I don't want to hear anything about him!" + +"What! Have you and he tiffed? Well, 'tis a way that true love works. +But let me tell you I've handed his play to Mr. Cibber, though much I +doubt its good fortune. Honestly, my child, though some of the lines are +good, others are sad stuff." + +"I don't wish Mr. Vane any ill will, but it is no affair of mine whether +his play be good or bad." + +"Mercy on me! But you told me he wanted to write in a part for you." + +"If he does I won't play it. Mr. Vane is nothing to me." + +"Oh, so _that_ love's flown away, has it? Was there anybody in this +world or any other so full of vagaries and vapours as Master Cupid?" + +Lavinia was in a tumult of doubt and contrary inclinations. She hated to +discuss Lancelot Vane! She wanted to talk about him! She was suffering +from the most puzzling of emotions--the mingled pain and pleasure of +self-torture. + +Gay neither gratified nor disappointed her. He simply remarked that it +was well she now had nothing to distract her mind and that she would be +able to devote herself entirely to her new life, and after counselling +her not to argue about terms with Huddy, he led her back to the manager, +and it was settled that she should join his travelling company. + +Lavinia was overwrought, and that night slept but little. It was hard to +say whether the thoughts of her future on the stage, her dreams of +distinction with Gay's opera, or her wounded love and pride occupied the +foremost place in her mind. She resolved over and over again that she +would forget Lancelot Vane. She meant to steel herself against every +kind of tender recollection. She was certain she hated him and dropped +off to sleep thinking of the one kiss they had exchanged. + +The next morning she was fairly tranquil. She had not, it is true, +dismissed Vane entirely from her thoughts, but she had arrived at the +conclusion that as it was all over between them it really was of no +consequence whether he had jilted her for Sally Salisbury. That he +should bestow even a look on so common a creature was a proof of his +vulgar tastes. Oh, he was quite welcome to Sally if his fancy roamed in +so low a direction. She felt she was able to regard the whole business +with perfect equanimity. + +Her landlady that day bought a copy of the _Daily Post_ and she sent it +upstairs to Lavinia. Newspaper notices of theatrical performances were +rarities in those days. Lavinia did not expect to see any reference to +Mr. Huddy's benefit, and her expectations were realised. What she _did_ +see sent the blood rushing to her face and her hands fumbled so that she +could hardly hold the paper. Then she went deadly pale, she tore the +paper in half and--a rare thing for Lavinia to do--she burst into tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"IF WE FIGHT.... WHAT SAY YOU TO LAVINIA FENTON?" + + +The big room of the "Angel and Sun" hard by Cripples Gate was the scene +of loud talk, louder laughter and the clank of pewter mugs on the solid +oaken table. The fat landlord, divested of his wig, which he only wore +on high days and holidays, was rubbing his shiny pate with satisfaction. +The Grub Street writers were his best customers, and when they had money +in their pockets they were uneasy until it was gone. + +The room was low pitched; its big chimney beams projected so much that +it behoved a tall man to be careful of his movements; it was full of +dark shadows thrown by the two candles in iron sconces on the walls; a +high settle was on either side of the fire in front of which stood the +bow-legged host, his eyes beaming on the rapidly emptying bottles. + +A slight sound, a movement, caused the landlord to glance towards the +door. A stranger had entered. He was not of the Grub Street fraternity. +He had too much swagger. His clothes were too fine, despite their +tawdriness, his sword hilt too much in evidence. What could be seen of +his dark face, the upper half of which his slouched hat concealed, was +rather that of a fighter than of a writer. The landlord summed up the +signs of a swashbuckler and approached him deferentially. + +"Good evenin', sir. What's your pleasure?" + +The stranger cast a rapid glance over the revellers sitting round the +long, narrow table before he replied. + +"Half a pint of gin, landlord," said he, in the deep, husky voice of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash, and he strode towards the chimney corner of one +of the settles, whence he could see the noisy party of drinkers and not +be seen himself very well. + +The landlord brought the gin in a pewter pot and set it down on a ledge +fixed to the chimney jamb. + +"See here, landlord," growled Rofflash, "d'ye know Mr. Jarvis?" + +"Sure, sir; 'tis he yonder with the lantern-jawed phizog." + +"Aye. Watch your chance when he's not talking to the rest and bid him +look where I'm sitting. There's a shilling ready for you if you don't +blunder." + +The landlord nodded and waddled towards the man he had pointed out. + +Jeremy Rofflash, it may be remarked, was a born spy and informer. His +blood was tainted with treachery. Ten years before he had been employed +by the Whig Government of George of Hanover to ferret out +evidence--which not infrequently meant manufacturing it--against the +Jacobites. Posing as a Jacobite, Rofflash wormed himself into the +secrets of the conspirators, and he figured as an important witness +against the rebel lords Derwentwater, Nithsdale, Carnwath and Wintoun. + +It was nothing for him to serve two masters and to play false to both, +according as it best suited his own pocket. Sally Salisbury and +Archibald Dorrimore were working in two different directions, and the +ingenious Jeremy accommodated both. His scheming in Sally's interest had +turned out to his and to her satisfaction, but not so that on behalf of +Dorrimore. The captain had not reckoned upon Lavinia taking flight +before he and his employer arrived on the scene. + +The plot of which she was the objective was common enough in those days +of free and easy lovemaking. Merely an abduction. Rofflash had an +intimate knowledge of Whitefriars, not then, perhaps, so lawless a place +as in the times of the Stuarts, but sufficiently lawless for his +purpose. Its ancient privileges which made it a sanctuary for all that +was vile and criminal had not been entirely swept away. Rofflash knew of +more than one infamous den to which Lavinia could be conveyed, and +nobody be the wiser. + +The abduction plot had failed--for the present--and Rofflash, to pacify +Dorrimore, went on another tack. In this he was personally interested. +He saw his way to make use of Dorrimore to punish Vane for the +humiliation Vane had cast upon him when they encountered each other on +London Bridge. This humiliation was a double one. Vane had not merely +knocked him down, but had rescued Lavinia under his very nose. + +The insult could only be washed out in blood, and the captain had been +nursing his wrath ever since. But he was as great a coward as he was a +braggart, and a fair fight was not to his taste. He was more at home in +a stealthy approach under the cover of night, and a swift plunge of his +sword before the enemy could turn and defend himself. + +With Dorrimore it was different. To do him justice, fop as he was, he +did not want for courage, and, moreover, he was a good swordsman. So +when Rofflash made out that he could bring Vane to Spring Gardens, +where Dorrimore could easily find an excuse for provoking his rival to a +duel, the Templar eagerly approved the idea. + +It was to carry out this plan practically that Rofflash, after quitting +his patron in St. James's Park, made his way to Moorfields. Though he +knew that Sally had extracted a promise from Vane to meet her in Spring +Gardens, he was by no means certain that Vane would keep his word. But +Rofflash was never without resources, and he thought he could devise a +plan to bring the meeting about. His scheme proved easier to execute +than he expected. Vane unconsciously played into his hands. + +After his bitter disappointment through not meeting Lavinia at +Rosamond's Pond, Vane walked back to his Grub Street lodgings plunged in +fits of melancholy, alternated with moralisings on the faithlessness of +women. He did not believe Lavinia had kept the appointment. As for Sally +Salisbury, well, it was unfortunate that he should run across her at a +wrong moment, but he never imagined that the meeting with her was one of +design and not of accident. + +Vane had the poetic temperament. He was human and emotional and--he was +weak. Had he lived two centuries later he might have fancied, and may be +with truth, that he suffered from neurasthenia. In the full-blooded days +of the early Georges the complaint was "vapours," otherwise liver, but +no one troubled about nerves. The ghastly heads of Jacobite rebels stuck +on Temple Bar were looked upon with indifference by the passers-by. The +crowds which thronged to Tyburn to witness the half hangings and the +hideous disembowelling which followed, while the poor wretches, found +guilty of treason, were yet alive, had pretty much the sensation with +which a gathering nowadays sees a dangerous acrobatic performance. + +Vane had none of this brutish callousness. He was more susceptible to +sex influences. Despite his worship of Lavinia, whom he elevated into a +sort of divinity, and who satisfied the more refined part of his nature +and his love of romance, he was not insensible to the animal charms of +Sally Salisbury. The cunning jade was familiar with all the arts of her +profession. She knew how to kiss, and the kiss she bestowed upon him in +the park haunted him just as did the kiss he had received whether he +would or not on the night when she sheltered him in her house. + +Thus it came about that the despondent young man was torn between +varying emotions, and by the time he was within hail of Grub Street he +was without will of his own and at the mercy of any who chose to +exercise influence over him. + +Chance led him to encounter a party of boon companions whose company he +had vowed to relinquish. One of these was in funds, having abandoned +political pamphleteering for the writing of biographies of notorious +personages, both men and women--the latter preferably--in which truth +and fiction were audaciously blended, and the whole dashed with +scandalous anecdotes which found for such stuff a ready sale. + +Jarvis and his friends having had their fill of liquor at one tavern, +were proceeding to another when they met Lancelot Vane, and they bore +him away without much protest. It was by no means the first time that +Vane had drowned his sorrows in drink. + +Meanwhile Rofflash was on the prowl. He was not unacquainted with some +of the Grub Street scribblers. One man he had employed three or four +years before, when Jacobitism was rampant, in running to earth the +writers of seditious pamphlets and broad sheets. The man was Tom Jarvis. +Rofflash knew Tom's favourite haunts, and after looking in at various +taverns, lighted upon him at the "Angel and Sun." He also lighted upon +Vane. Vane he could see was well on the way towards forgetfulness, but +Captain Jeremy wasn't one to run any risks, so he held aloof from the +party, and waited while the landlord went about his errand. + +Presently Jarvis looked in the direction of the fireplace, and Rofflash +beckoned him and laid his fingers on his lip in token of silence. Jarvis +quietly slipped away and joined Rofflash. + +"Devil take it, my gallant captain!" growled Jarvis, "but you look in +fine feather. Hang me if you haven't tumbled on your feet, and that's +more than Tom Jarvis can say. Since the Jacks have swallowed King George +and his Hanoverian progeny things have been precious dull for the likes +o' me." + +"Aye, though it mayn't be for long. Meanwhile, I can put you in the way +of a guinea. Are you friendly with that young fool, Lancelot Vane?" + +"Friendly? Why, to be sure. He's always good for a bottle if he chance +to have the wherewithal about him. And he's the best company in the +world when that comes about. A couple o' glasses knocks him over, and +you can finish the rest of the bottle at your ease." + +"Gad! He's one of your feather-brained, lily-livered fellows, is he? So +much the better for my purpose. Look you here, Tom; bring Vane to-morrow +evening to Spring Gardens, and there's a guinea ready for you." + +Jarvis looked down his long nose and frowned. + +"Not so easy as you think, captain. I know Vane. To-morrow he'll be +chock full of repentance. He'll be calling himself all the fools he can +lay his tongue to. How am I to get him to Spring Gardens in that mood?" + +"'Tis as easy as lying, Tom. When a man's down as Peter Grievous, he's +ready to get up if he have but a couple of hairs of the dog that bit +him." + +"I grant you that, bully captain. But Vane's pocket's as empty as mine. +Where's the coin to come from?" + +"You're a damned liar and an ingrained rogue by nature, Tom Jarvis, but +I'll have to trust you for once. Here's half a guinea. It should more +than pay for the wine and the wherry to Spring Gardens. Keep faith with +me, you rascal, or I'll half wring your head from your shoulders and +give you a free taste of what's bound to come to you some day--the rope +at Tyburn." + +Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to +carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away. + +How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much +consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner. +Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after +a drinking bout was verified to the letter. + +The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The +wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens, +though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their +passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers +more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined +were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats. +Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as +they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked +by plenty of liveliness. + +Well did Spring Gardens--afterwards known as Vauxhall, or Fauxhall, +years later--deserve the patronage bestowed upon them. Delightful +groves, cosy little arbours, lawns like velvet, rippling fountains were +among its attractions, music albeit it was confined to the limited +instruments of the day--singing came about afterwards--aided the +enchantment. + +A dose of hot brandy and water before starting had renewed Vane's +drooping spirits and had dissipated his headache and nausea. A glass of +punch prescribed by Jarvis when inside the Gardens sent him into a mood +of recklessness which made him ready for any adventure amorous or +otherwise. He looked upon Lavinia as lost to him. He would like to kill +his remembrance of her. What better way than by thoughts of some other +woman? His brain had become so bemused by his potations of the previous +night that he had at first only vague recollections of Sally Salisbury +and how he had engaged to meet her. But now that he was in the Gardens +association of ideas brought her handsome, enticing face to his mind. +She would do as well as another to entertain him for the moment, and his +eyes roved restlessly towards every woman he passed. + +The orchestra was playing a dance tune, and Vane eagerly scanned the +dancers, but saw no woman resembling Sally Salisbury. Meanwhile Jarvis +had left him with a parting drink, which by no means helped to clear his +muddled brain. Then suddenly Sally stood before him, unmasked and +looking more fascinating than ever. + +"You wicked man," said she with reproachful eyes, the dark silky lashes +drooping momentarily on her painted cheeks. "I've been searching for you +everywhere. But my heart told me you would come, and my heart rarely +deceives me." + +Sally spoke in a tone of sincerity, and maybe for once she was sincere. +Vane did not trouble one way or the other. He was in that condition of +nervous excitement to be strongly affected by her sensuous beauty. He +was stammering something in reply when a man in a puce satin coat and a +flowered brocaded waistcoat thrust himself rudely between them. + +"I fear, sir, you don't know all the transcendent virtues of this +_lady_. Permit me to enlighten you." + +He spoke in an insolent tone, and Sally turned upon him in fury and bade +him begone. + +"Mind your own business, Mr. Dorrimore, and don't thrust your nose into +what doesn't concern you," she cried, her eyes blazing with wrath. + +"Oh, I've no quarrel with you, madam. I only wish to warn your poor +dupe----" + +He wasn't able to finish the sentence. Vane had struck him a violent +blow in the face. + +Vane's sudden attack fairly took Dorrimore by surprise. He stared +blankly at Vane, and then apparently seized by some ludicrous idea, he +burst into a sarcastic laugh. + +"Faith, sir--you must excuse me--you really must. Ha--ha--ha! The idea +of your championing this wanton jade! It's too good a joke--'pon honour, +it is--but since you will have it so--why----" + +His hand went to his side, and the next moment his sword flashed in the +crimson light of the coloured lamps. Just then Jarvis and another man +interposed, and the latter caught Dorrimore's sword arm. + +"Forbear, gentlemen!" cried Jarvis. "If you must fight, don't let it be +here. In public 'twould be little better than a vulgar brawl." + +"Let me alone," shouted Dorrimore. "He struck me and in the devil's name +he shall answer it." + +"Whenever you please. I did but defend the lady whom this coward +insulted," said Vane, pale, and speaking in a voice low and vibrating +with passion. + +He felt a pressure on his arm and heard in soft tones: + +"Thank you, but you mustn't risk your life for me. Come away." + +"What, and leave the fellow's challenge unanswered. Never! Sir, I am at +your command. When and where you please." + +"Don't be a fool, Vane--Sally's not worth it," whispered Jarvis. "Don't +you know she's any man's money?" + +For a moment Vane wavered as though Jarvis had convinced him. In the +meantime Dorrimore had sheathed his sword and stepping close to Vane in +front of Sally Salisbury, he said, dropping his voice so that Sally +should not hear: + +"Your friend's right. If we fight it should be over somebody better than +a common trull. What say you to Lavinia Fenton?" + +Vane staggered as though Dorrimore had struck him. + +"Lavinia Fenton?" he faltered. "What--what do you know--about her? What +is she to you?" + +"Simply this--she's mine, and I'll have the blood of any man who +attempts to rob me of her. You tried once, and this follows." + +Dorrimore tapped the hilt of his sword. + +"I never saw you before, sir, but I take you at your word. I can see now +you've forced this quarrel on me, and for aught I know Mistress +Salisbury may be in the plot. But that doesn't matter. If Miss Fenton is +the cause, I shall fight with a better heart. Jarvis--please arrange +this affair for me. You've a friend at hand, sir, I presume." + +Dorrimore dropped his insolent, foppish air. He recognised that Vane, +poverty stricken scribbler though he might be, was a gentleman. He bowed +and turned towards the man who, with Jarvis, had interposed in the early +stages of the altercation. This man was Rofflash. He had dragged Sally +Salisbury some three or four yards away probably to prevent her +interfering and persuading Vane not to fight. Whatever their talk might +have been about, just as Dorrimore turned Vane saw Sally tear herself +from Captain Jeremy's grasp and hurry away, and he became more than ever +persuaded that she had betrayed him. What did it matter? One woman or +another--they were all the same. + +He walked apart while Jarvis and Rofflash arranged the preliminaries. +His brain was numbed. He did not care whether he lived or died. Five +minutes later Vane was joined by Jarvis. + +"We've settled the business very comfortably," said Jarvis. "Seven +o'clock at Battersea Fields. It's now nearly midnight. We'll get a rest +at the nearest tavern; have a few hours sleep, and you'll wake as fresh +as a lark." + +Vane made no reply, and Jarvis sliding his arm within that of his +companion, led him out of the gardens. They took the direction of +Wandsworth, keeping by the river bank, and Jarvis made a halt at a +tumbledown rookery of a waterside tavern--the "Feathers." Vane was so +overwhelmed by the prospect of a possible tragedy that he scarcely +noticed the dirt, the squalidness, the hot and foetid air and the +evil-looking fellows who stared at them when he and Jarvis entered. + +On the strength of the order of a bottle of wine the landlord gave them +the use of his own room, and Vane threw himself on a hard settee, but +not to sleep. He was worn and haggard when it was time to rise, and +Jarvis called for brandy. It was vile stuff, and Vane swallowed scarcely +a mouthful. + +The bill paid, they got into a boat moored off the bank opposite the +tavern. + +It was only just daylight. A slight mist hung upon the river, and the +marshy land on the south side and the scattered houses leading to +Chelsea on the north side looked dreary enough. The only sound was the +plash of the waterman's sculls and the grinding of the rowlocks. At last +they came upon Battersea Fields. + +"The pollard oaks, waterman," said Jarvis. "Do you know 'em?" + +"Right well, your honour. You're not the first gentlemen I've took +there. More'n than have come back, I'll swear." + +The fellow's words weren't encouraging, but Vane did not seem affected +by them. He felt strangely calm. Before he started his head was hot; now +it was as cold as ice. Jarvis asked him how he was. + +"Feel my pulse and tell me," said he. + +"Steady as a rock, but devilish cold. A little thrust and parry'll warm +you. Here we are, and there's your man and his second waiting." + +The boat scraped the rushes and the waterman held it while the two men +scrambled on to the bank. + +The ground was fairly well chosen for the purpose. It was a tolerably +firm piece of turf about a hundred yards long by some twenty broad and +almost as smooth as a bowling green. It was the only solid piece of +earth for some distance, all around being at a lower level and boggy. + +Not forgetful of the usual courtesies, the combatants bowed and took off +their coats and vests. It was then that Vane caught sight of Rofflash. + +"You're the fellow whom I knocked down on London Bridge on a certain +night some little time ago," said he. + +"The very same," rejoined Rofflash with a grin which made his ugly face +still uglier. "You took me unawares. If you've the mind to try +conclusions a second time, fair and square and no surprises, by God, +sir, I'll be pleased to oblige you when you've despatched Mr. +Dorrimore." + +The bully's braggart manner and sneering voice made no impression on +Vane. The suspicion that he was the victim of a plot was strengthened by +the presence of Rofflash and his words. For ought he could tell Jarvis +might be in the conspiracy too. But there was no way out of the trap, +and turning on his heel, he walked to his ground. + +The duel began. The combatants were about equal in youth, height and +build; in skill they were unfairly matched. Vane was comparatively a +novice in the use of the "white arm." Dorrimore, on the other hand, was +a practised swordsman, though he was not so accomplished as he fancied +he was. + +The two, after the preliminary salute, advanced to the attack. Dorrimore +handled his weapon with a slightly contemptuous air, as if he did not +think it worth while to take much trouble over so inferior an opponent. + +To a certain extent he was right. Vane, however, was shrewd enough to +see that this carelessness was but assumed, and he did not take +advantage of one or two opportunities of thrusting given him by +Dorrimore, evidently with the intention of leading him into a trap. + +So they went on cautiously, their blades rasping against each other, and +neither man gaining any advantage, although once or twice Vane found his +antagonist's weapon perilously near his body. Then all at once Dorrimore +changed his methods. He began fencing in earnest, and so rapid was the +play of his sword that the eye could scarcely follow it. Suddenly he +muttered an oath as a red stain appeared on his arm. Vane had been lucky +enough to scratch him, probably more by accident than dexterity. + +Dorrimore roused himself and his fencing became more vigorous. Vane was +being pressed very closely, and Dorrimore's thrusts were becoming more +and more difficult to parry. Moreover, Vane's nerves were unsteady and +his movements were flustered. The gleaming steel danced, he grew +confused, faltered, and then came a cold biting sensation in his chest, +he fell and knew no more. + +"An ugly thrust, Mr. Dorrimore," growled Rofflash five minutes +afterwards. "What's to be done?" + +"Is he dead?" asked Dorrimore anxiously. "I'd no intention of going as +far as that, but it was the fool's own fault. He was rushing upon me +when my point touched him. I couldn't withdraw it in time." + +Rofflash, while with Marlborough's army, had acquired some rough +knowledge of surgery. His hands had gone over Vane's chest in the region +of the heart. The wound was on the right side. + +"There's life left," said the captain, "but he won't last long without a +surgeon. The blade's touched the lungs, I'll swear. Look ye here, sir. +If the man dies it'll be awkward for us all round. The fight was fair +enough, but the devil only knows what a dozen fools in a jury box may +think. Besides, there's Sally--she'll have something to say, I'll +swear." + +"Sally? What the deuce has she to do with us?" + +"More than you think, Mr. Dorrimore. She's as like as not to make out +that the quarrel was forced upon the fellow to get him out of the way. +You see, she's set her heart on him." + +"Sally Salisbury's heart? What, has the saucy jade got one?" demanded +Dorrimore derisively. + +"She thinks so, and with Sally that's as good as having one. You might +find it prudent to take refuge in France for a while till the affair +blows over. It would be bad enough to kill the man right out, but a +thousand times worse to leave him to bleed to death. I'm not so sure +what Jarvis might say to save his skin. You see, he was paid to bring +his man to Spring Gardens, so that you might affront him and get him to +fight you," added Rofflash dropping his voice significantly. + +"Devil take it! Where's a surgeon to be got?" returned Dorrimore in +alarm. + +"Leave it to me, sir. I can take him to a doctor who'll attend him and +who'll hold his tongue, which is more to the purpose. It'll mean a few +guineas, but 'twill be money well spent." + +"See to it, then, Rofflash. Where's the man to be found?" + +"His house is on London Bridge. The tide's running down fairly, and the +waterman ought to get us to the bridge in half an hour." + +Dorrimore assented gloomily. He was thinking that the gratification of +his spite would cost him a pretty penny. Not only would the doctor, +Rofflash and Jarvis have to be paid for their silence, but the waterman +also. + +Vane's wound was roughly bandaged, and he was taken to the boat still +unconscious. The journey by water was made, and he was landed safely at +the foot of London Bridge and consigned to the care of Dr. Mountchance, +whose scruples at taking charge of a wounded man who might probably die +in his house were easily overcome. + +A few days later the following paragraph appeared in the _Daily Post_: + + + "We learn that an affair of honour has taken place between A----d + D----e, Esqr., of the Temple, and Mr. L----t V----e, a young + gentleman lately come from Cambridge University, in which the said + young gentleman made the acquaintance of the Templar's sword, + causing him temporary inconvenience. The cause of the difference + was the fair S----y S----y, well known to many men of fashion." + + +It was this paragraph which sent Lavinia into a paroxysm of emotion and +made her tear the newspaper in twain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"MOLL'S SINGIN' BROUGHT HER LUCK AND MAY BE YOURS WILL TOO" + + +The months went over. Huddy's "travelling" theatrical troupe had been +paying a round of visits to various towns in the home counties, +performing in innyards, barns, any place suitable for the purpose and +where no objections were raised by the justices. Actors and actresses +were "rogues and vagabonds" when it suited prim puritans to call them +so, and more than once Huddy and his company had to take a hurried +departure from some town where play-acting was looked upon as ungodly +and a device of Satan to ensnare the unsuspecting. + +All this was in the day's work. Lavinia thought nothing of it. She had +been in her youthful days harried from pillar to post and knew what it +meant. The important thing to her was that she was getting a vast amount +of stage experience, and as she was a quick "study" she had no +difficulty in taking on a new role at a day's notice. + +Lavinia remained with Huddy's until she had all the devices of the stage +at her finger's ends. In a way theatrical training was easier then than +now. Acting was largely a question of tradition. What Betterton, Wilks, +Barton Booth, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Oldfield did others had +to do. Audiences expected certain characters to be represented in a +certain way and were slow to accept "new readings." Comedy, however, had +more latitude than tragedy, and as comedy was Lavinia's line her winsome +face and pleasing smile and her melodious voice were always welcome, and +when she had a "singing" part she brought down the house. + +Of course the life was hard--especially when the share of the receipts +which fell to the minor members was small--but it was full of variety +and sometimes of excitement. If the work did not entirely drive away the +remembrance of Lancelot Vane it enabled her to look upon the romance of +her early maidenhood with equanimity. Her love affair had become a +regret tinged with a pleasureable sadness. + +She was beginning to be known in the profession. Now and again she wrote +to her old friend Gay and he replied with encouraging letters. His opera +was finished, he told her, Colley Cibber had refused to have anything +to do with it and it was now in the hands of John Rich. + +"I can see thee, my dear, in Polly Peachum. I've had you in mind in the +songs. You're doing well, I hear, but I'd have you do better. The +duchess has forgiven you. She is on your side against Rich, who does not +care a farthing for the music. He would alter his mind could he but hear +you. Huddy must let you go. The Duke's Theatre is waiting for you." + +In all Gay's letters there was not a word about Lancelot Vane. Lavinia +would like to have known the fate of his play and the next instant was +angry with herself for still feeling an interest in her faithless swain. + +"Let him waste himself on Sally Salisbury if he likes," she cried +scornfully. "He's nothing to me." + +Gay's assertion that Rich's theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields waited for +her was soon verified. One of Rich's staff waited upon her when Huddy's +company was playing at Woolwich, and she went off with him in high +spirits and amid much growling from Huddy. Rich was pleased to express +his approval of her appearance. + +"I'll put on a play for you and that'll tell me if you knows your +business," grunted the ungrammatical Rich. + +The play was a poor thing--"The Wits," one of D'Avenant's comedies. The +best part about it to Lavinia's fancy was the advertisement in the +_Daily Post_ where she read "Ginnet by Miss Fenton." Ginnet was but a +stage waiting maid and Lavinia had little to do and less to say. "The +Wits" ran but one night, quite as long as it was worth. + +"You'll do pretty well," said Rich, "but I can't say more'n that. My +theatre shuts for the next three months. When the season starts I'll +find you summat else." + +"Three months!" exclaimed Lavinia ruefully. "And what am I to do all +that time, Mr. Rich?" + +"That's your business, miss. If I was you I'd try one of the summer +theatres. There's the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. May be you might +get a part. But mind this, you're to come back here in October. I'll put +you into something as'll soot you." + +What could Lavinia say to this? It was at once sweet and bitter. She had +made good her footing at Rich's theatre and could she only tide over the +summer months she would be on the stepping stones of success. But +meanwhile? She took Rich's advice and went to the Little Theatre. She +found she had not the ghost of a chance of an engagement. Drury Lane and +the Duke's Theatres were closed (Covent Garden Theatre was not then +built), and actors and actresses of established reputation were +clamorous for something to do. Lavinia retired discomfited. + +She had to go back to Huddy's, to the mumming booth and the innyard. +There was no help for it. The summer passed, Rich opened the Lincoln's +Inn Fields playhouse and sent for Lavinia. He gave her quite an +important part and Lavinia was elated, albeit the play was one of +Wycherley's most repulsive productions, "The Country Wife." But all +through the winter season this part was her only opportunity for +distinction. John Rich, like most actor managers, had but an eye for +himself as the central figure and in his own special province--dancing +and posturing. His "Harlequin" entertainment "The Rape of Proserpine" +proved to be one of his biggest successes and ran uninterruptedly for +three months. + +Lavinia's line in the piece was simply to "walk on" among the "lasses" +but she had the gratification of seeing her name announced in the +advertisements--a sufficient proof that she was rising in Rich's +estimation. She had at last a chance of showing what she could do. Her +old acquaintance, Mrs. Egleton, took her benefit along with Hippisley, +one of the best low comedians of the day, and selected Farquhar's "The +Beaux' Stratagem"--partly so she said, for Lavinia's sake. + +"You were made for Cherry, my dear," said she. "The part'll fit you as +easily as an old glove." + +And so it did, but the next night Rich went back to "The Rape of +Proserpine" and the piece continued to run until the summer, and then +the theatre closed as usual for three months. + +"Whatever am I to do Mrs. Egleton?" she cried despairingly. "I suppose I +could join Huddy's company again. Huddy I know would be glad enough to +have me but----" + +"Pray don't be silly," put in the experienced Mrs. Egleton. "It would be +lowering yourself. Rich would think you're not worth more than he's been +paying you and that's little enough--fifteen shillings a week. Good +Lord, how does he imagine a woman of our profession can live on that?" + +"It's because of our profession that he parts with so little. He has a +notion that we can make it up," rejoined Lavinia sarcastically. + +"You never said a truer word than that, my dear. Thank God I've my +husband, but _you_--well you'd better take a husband too or as nearly as +you can get to one." + +Lavinia shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. + +"Why not go to Hampstead? Heaps of money there and plenty of life. Bless +my heart alive, with that taking face of yours the men would be after +you like flies round a honey-pot." + +"I've no fancy for figuring as a honey-pot, thank you." + +"Well, I can think of nothing else." + +The mention of Hampstead was suggestive, but not in the way insinuated +by Mrs. Egleton. Half fashionable London flocked to Hampstead in the +summer, ostensibly to drink the water of the medicinal spring, but +really to gamble, to dance and to flirt outrageously. There was plenty +of entertainment too, of various sorts. + +Then she thought of Hannah's cousin, Betty Higgins at Hampstead. Lavinia +had saved a little money while with Rich and Huddy and she could afford +a small rent for lodgings while she was seeking how to maintain herself. +Concerts were given at the Great Room, Hampstead Wells. She might appear +there too. She would love it. She had seldom had an opportunity of +singing in any of the parts she had played, and singing was what her +soul delighted in. + +She made her way to Hampstead. The heath was wild enough in those +days--clumps of woodland, straggling bushes, wide expanses of turf, vast +pits made by the gravel and sand diggers, the slopes scored by water +courses with here and there a foot path--all was picturesque. The ponds +were very much as they are now, save that their boundaries were not +restrained and after heavy rains the water spread at its own free will. + +The village itself on the slopes overlooking the heath was cramped, the +houses squeezed together in narrow passages with openings here and there +where glorious views of the Highgate Woods and the country beyond +delighted the eye. + +Lavinia inquired for Betty Higgins in the village, but without success. +Indeed, the houses were not such as washerwomen could afford to live in. +Then she went into the quaint tavern known as the Upper Flask and here +she was told that a Mrs. Higgins who did laundry work was to be found in +a cottage not far from Jack Straw's Castle on the Spaniards' road and +thither Lavinia tramped, footsore and tired, for she had walked all the +way from London. + +Betty, a stout, sturdy woman was at her clothes lines stretched from +posts on a patch of drying ground in front of her cottage. She opened +wide her round blue eyes as Lavinia approached her. + +"Are you Betty Higgins?" asked Lavinia. + +"Aye, that's me sure enough; an' who may you be, young woman?" + +"I'm Lavinia Fenton, a friend of your Cousin Hannah, who works for my +mother at the coffee house in the Old Bailey." + +"So you're the young miss as she told me of! Why, that be months an' +months agone. An' you never comed. It put me about, it did." + +"I'm very sorry. I never thought of that. But so many things I didn't +expect prevented me coming." + +"Have you seen Hannah? She's been a-grievin' about you, thinkin' as you +might ha' come to harm." + +"No, I haven't been near the Old Bailey," said Lavinia hesitatingly. +"Perhaps you'll guess why. I dare say Hannah's told you about me and my +mother." + +"Oh, to be sure she has. May be you don't know then that your mother's +got another husband?" + +"I'm glad of it. She won't bother any more about me now." + +"May be not. But what d'ye want?" + +"I'd like to know if you can let me have a lodging. It'll suit me to +live at Hampstead for a while." + +"But s'posing as it don't suit me to have you?" + +"Then I must go somewhere else. I think Hannah would be glad if I was +with you." + +"Aye, but you've been away from her goodness knows how long. What have +you been a-doin' of all that while?" + +"Play-acting. I had a part last week in a play at the Lincoln's Inn +Theatre and Mr. Rich has promised me an engagement when the theatre +opens for the winter season." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Higgins with a sniff which might have signified pity or +contempt, or both. "I dunno as I hold with play-actin'. Brazen painted +women some o' them actresses is and the words as is put in their mouths +to say--well--there----" + +"I know--I know," returned Lavinia hurriedly and with heightened colour. +"But that isn't their fault, and after all, it's not so bad as what one +hears in front--in the gallery----" + +"What, the trulls and the trapes and the saucy footmen! It made my ears +tingle when Hannah took me to Drury Lane. I longed to take a stick in my +hand an' lay it about 'em. So you're a play-actin' miss are ye? I'm +sorry for it." + +"I can't help that, Mrs. Higgins. One must do something--besides there's +good and bad folk wherever you go." + +"Aye, an' ye haven't got to go from here neither. A pack o' bad 'uns, +men and women, come to Hampstead. They swarm like rats at Mother Ruff's, +dancin' an' dicin, an' drinkin', an' wuss. I won't say as you don't see +the quality at the concerts in the Great Room, but the low rabble--well, +thank the Lord they don't come _my_ way." + +Then Betty Higgins, who all this time had been eyeing the girl and +apparently taking stock of her, suddenly harked back to the all +important business which had brought Lavinia to her cottage. + +"If I let ye a lodging what are ye a-goin' to do till October?" + +"You spoke about the concerts at the Great Room just now," said Lavinia +meditatively. "Do they have singing?" + +"Singin'? Ah, an' such singin' as I never heard afore. I've never been +inside, it's far too fine fur the likes o' me, but the windows are +sometimes open an' I've listened an' paid nothin' fur it neither." + +"I want to sing in that room, Mrs. Higgins. If I had a chance I believe +I could please the fine gentlemen and their ladies and earn some +money." + +Betty Higgins stared aghast. + +"What are ye a-talkin' about, child? _You_ sing? Where's your silk gown, +your lace, your furbelows to come from?" + +"I don't know, but I think something might be contrived." + +Lavinia had Mrs. Houghton, who had been the leading lady in "The Orphan" +and in "The Wits," in her mind. Mrs. Houghton was very friendly towards +her and had no end of fine dresses. + +"Oh, but singin'. Goodness me, child, you haven't heard 'em in the Great +Room, all tralalas and twists and turns up and down, sometimes soft as a +mouse and sometimes so loud as 'ud a'most wake the dead. I'd like to +hear ye do all that, not mind ye, as I understand what it means, but its +pure grand." + +"I'll sing something to you Betty that you _can_ understand. What of 'My +lodging, it is on the Cold Ground.' Would you like to hear that?" + +"Wouldn't I! My mother was maid to Mistress Moll Davies, as King Charles +was mad over, though for the matter o' that he was always a runnin' +after the women. Anyway, it was that song and the way Moll sung it as +won his heart. Ah, them days is past an' I'm afeared as I mustn't speak +well of 'em or I'd be called a 'Jack,' clapped into Newgate or sent to +Bridewell and lashed. But give me 'Lodging on the Cold Ground' an' I'll +tell ye what I think. But I warn ye, mother copied Mrs. Davies an' 'll +know how it ought to be sung." + +Lavinia laughed to herself. She was quite sure if she could satisfy Mr. +Gay and Dr. Pepusch she could please Betty Higgins. + +"Them old songs," went on Betty, warming to her subject, "touches the +'eart and makes the tears come. But you don't hear 'em at the fine +concerts. I'll go bail as there beant a woman now-a-days as can make a +man fall in love with her 'cause of her singin'." + +"I wonder," said Lavinia musingly. + +"Well now, let me take in the clothes an' we'll have a dish o' tea an' a +bite and then you shall sing your song." + +"Yes, and I'll help you with the clothes." + +Lavinia's offer pleased Betty, and the two were soon busy pulling the +various garments and bits of drapery from the lines and gathering from +the grass others that had been set to bleach in the wind and sun. This +done they entered the cottage. The window was small and the light dim. A +white-haired old woman was warming her hands and crooning over a wood +fire. + +"Eh, mother," cried Betty, "I've brought someone to sing to ye. 'Lodgin' +on the Cold Ground,' do ye remember that old ditty?" + +"Do I mind it? Why, to be sure. But who sings it now-a-days? Nobody." + +"Well, ye're going to hear it, and ye'll have to say if this young miss +here trolls it as well as Moll Davies used to." + +"What stuff ye be talkin', Betty," retorted the old woman. "Nobody can. +I can remember my mistress a-singin' it as well as if it was only +yesterday." + +"Do ye hear that--I've forgotten what name Hannah told me yours was?" + +"Lavinia Fenton. But please call me Lavinia." + +"So I will. Now sit ye down, Lavinia, and talk to mother while I brew +the tea." + +Lavinia was rather dismayed at finding she was to pit herself against +the fascinating Moll whose charms had conquered the Merry +Monarch--possibly no very arduous task. + +The old lady was past eighty, but in possession of all her faculties. +When she said she remembered Moll Davies' singing perfectly well she +probably spoke the truth. + +Tea was over. Betty cleared away and Lavinia at her request--to be +correct--at her command, sang, keeping her eyes fixed on the old lady +and so to speak singing _at_ her. + +Before long the aged dame was mopping her eyes, and when Lavinia had +finished the pathetic ballad she stretched out both her wrinkled hands +towards the girl and in a quivering voice said:-- + +"Thank you, my dear. Lor' ha' mercy, it takes me back sixty year. I +haven't heard that song since Mistress Davies sung it, an' lor' bless +me, it might be her voice as I were a-listin' to. Aye, an' you're like +her in face, though not in body. She was short an' a bit too plump, but +she was the prettiest of wenches. Moll's singin' brought her luck and +maybe yours will too." + +Lavinia heard the old lady's praise with delight. Betty could say +nothing. She was gazing spellbound at the nightingale. The charm of the +girl's melodious and expressive voice had swept away all her prejudices. +Lavinia should have a lodging and welcome. Betty went further. She did +the laundry of Mrs. Palmer, the wife of the director of the concerts at +the Great Room, and she undertook to tell the lady of the musical +prodigy living in her cottage, and promised Lavinia to beg her ask her +husband to hear the girl sing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"HALF LONDON WILL BE CALLING YOU POLLY" + + +And so it came about. Lavinia was sent for by Mr. Palmer, and she sang +to him. He was highly pleased with her voice, but he was afraid her +songs would not be to the fancy of his fashionable patrons. + +"One half are mad to have nothing but Mr. Handel's music and t'other +half cry out for Signor Buononcini's. Your songs are like neither. +There's no taste for English ballads. They're out of fashion. Scales, +ornaments, shakes and flourishes are now the mode. For all that, I'd +like to make the venture with you just for once." + +"Thank you, sir. If the people don't care for my songs, there's an end +on it. I'll have to wait as best I can till Mr. Rich opens his theatre. +I may have a singing part in Mr. Gay's opera. Mr. Gay has promised me. +Have you heard about his opera?" cried Lavinia eagerly. + +"Oh, it's being talked of in the coffee houses, I'm told. But if Mr. +Rich has his way, it won't do. Maybe he'll cut out the songs. Mr. Rich +knows nothing about music. He can't tell 'Lilibullero' from 'Lumps of +pudding.' Still, it's something to be taken notice of by Mr. Gay." + +Palmer was evidently impressed by Lavinia's talk, especially after she +had mentioned that she had sung to Dr. Pepusch at Mr. Pope's Villa. It +occurred to him that though Lavinia Fenton might be unknown now, a day +might come when she would be famous, and he could then take credit for +having recognised her talents. + +Besides, the manager happened to know that Gay and Arbuthnot were at +that moment staying at Hampstead to drink the waters--the first to cure +his dyspepsia, and the second to ease his gout. Palmer decided to send +word to the poet-dramatist intimating that a young lady in whom he had +heard Mr. Gay was interested was about to sing at one of the Great Room +concerts and begging for the honour of his patronage. But he said +nothing to Lavinia about this. All he remarked was that she should sing +at his concert on the following Wednesday, and Lavinia went away in a +dream of pleasurable anticipation. + +The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly +nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of +music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she +well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes--and +especially their dislikes--in the most unmistakeable fashion. + +The difficulty of her dress had been overcome. Palmer was shrewd. He had +an eye for contrast. He would have no finery and fallals, he said. + +"Your songs are simple, so must your gown be. If the people take to you +in the one they will in t'other." + +So Lavinia made her appearance in a plain dress, apron, mob cap, and of +course prodigious hoops. Her hair was arrayed neatly and not powdered. +There was powder enough and to spare on the wigs of the beaux in front, +and on the elaborate head-dresses of the belles. + +Lavinia's unadorned dress suited her natural and easy carriage and made +her doubly attractive. Not a hand was raised when she bowed, but she +could see that every eye was turned upon her with expectancy and +curiosity. But there was also a certain amount of indifference which +provoked her. It could hardly be supposed that anything out of fashion +would be of interest to such modish folk. + +Lavinia chose her favourite--"My lodging it is on the cold ground." + +There were not a few aged bucks, painted and powdered and patched, aping +the airs and graces of younger gallants, who could remember Charles II. +and Moll Davies. They were startled when they heard Lavinia's liquid +notes in the old ballad--they felt that for a brief space they were +recovering their youth. + +As for the rest, they were conscious of a pleasant surprise. Against the +simplicity and pathos of the old ballad Buononcini's stilted +artificialities sounded tame and monotonous. When Lavinia finished +applause filled the room. She had to sing again. + +"You've caught 'em, my dear," said Palmer enthusiastically. "Before a +week's over you'll be the talk of Hampstead. You must stay here and sing +whenever I want you. Not every night--that would make you common. Only +now and again, just as a novelty. Do you understand?" + +Lavinia knew the ways of showmen quite well. She smiled and nodded, and +her eyes wandering towards the door of the ante-room in which she and +Palmer had been talking, whom should her gaze light upon but Mr. Gay! +Palmer was very well acquainted with Gay by sight, and hastening towards +the visitor made him a low bow. + +"I am highly honoured, sir, by your presence here to-night," said +Palmer, "I hope you did not think my sending you a ticket was taking a +liberty." + +"Tut, tut, man! 'Twas very polite of you," returned Gay good-humouredly. +"I'm glad to be able to congratulate you on the success of your new +acquisition, especially as the little lady interests me greatly--as, +indeed, you mentioned in your note, though how you came to know of that +interest I'm at a loss to conceive, unless she told you so herself." + +"Not directly, sir, I confess. But she chanced to remark that she had +sung to you and to Dr. Pepusch, whom I am fortunate in numbering among +my friends." + +"Aye, aye. Well, she _can_ sing, eh? What d'ye think?" + +"Admirable, sir, admirable. She has been gifted both by nature and art." + +"And those gifts should put money in her pocket and yours too, Mr. +Palmer. I hope you'll reward her on a liberal scale." + +"Why, certainly, sir. I shall be happy to oblige you." + +"Oh, obliging me has nothing to do with the matter. But we will talk of +that later on. Pray pardon me." + +With a slight bow Gay turned away and walked to where Lavinia was +standing, her cheeks glowing and her eyes glistening with pleasure at +the sight of the genial poet who had done so much to encourage her. + +"Why, Polly," said Gay, extending his hand, "how came you here? I left +you making your way on the stage, and now I find you a songstress. +Faith, my dear, are you thinking of going back to your early days when +you did nothing but sing songs?" he added laughingly. + +"Not quite that, sir, but I always did love singing, as you know. And so +do you, sir, or you would never have persuaded the good duchess to spend +so much money on me." + +"Oh, maybe I was thinking of myself all the while," rejoined Gay. "I +admit I saw in you the very young woman I'd had in my mind for a long +time, for Polly Peachum in my opera. Did I not call thee Polly from the +very first?" + +"Yes, indeed, sir. I've never forgotten it. I hope you'll always call me +Polly." + +"Make your mind easy as to that. Why, if my dreams come true, half +London will some day be calling you Polly, too." + +"I don't know what you mean, sir." + +"Of course you don't. I'm not always sure that I know what I _do_ mean. +But never mind. Let us take a stroll on the heath. On such a summer +night as this it is a shame to be cooped up betwixt four walls. Besides, +I want to talk with you." + +Manager Palmer bade Lavinia good-night with an air very different from +that with which he met her earlier in the evening. Her success and Gay's +evident friendship had worked wonders. He was quite deferential. + +As Lavinia and Gay passed through the dimly lighted vestibule to the +entrance a man from among the audience stole after them. He was very +pale and his pallor accentuated his projecting cheek bones and the +hollows above, from the depths of which his large eyes gleamed with a +glassy light. Evidently in ill health, he could hardly have kept pace +with the couple he was shadowing had they not been walking very slowly. + +"Everything is in our favour," Gay was saying. "Fortune has sent you +here at the right moment. You can act and you can sing. _I_ know it, but +John Rich and the Duchess of Queensberry must know it as well. Both your +acting and singing must be put to the proof, and you must show her grace +that she hasn't wasted her money." + +"That's what I'm most anxious to do, sir." + +"Aye, aye. Well, to-morrow I shall bring you some of the songs you'll +have to sing in my 'Beggar's Opera'--that is if we can talk that +curmudgeon Rich into the ideas that I and my friends have in our minds. +Are you lodging in Hampstead?" + +"Oh, yes. I'm staying with Hannah's cousin. You remember Hannah, don't +you, Mr. Gay? I told you what a good friend she was to me and how she +saved me from my wicked mother and the designing fellow I was so silly +as to run away with. I shall never forget my mad fancies--never!" + +"Best forget them, my dear, though I fear you'll be apt to drive out one +fit of madness by taking on another. 'Tis the way love has, and----" + +"Oh," interrupted Lavinia hastily, "I don't believe it. I'm not going to +bother about love any more." + +"Every woman has uttered those words, and has had to eat them. How many +times have you eaten yours, my pretty Polly, since last you resolved to +forswear love?" + +"Not once. I've learned my lesson. I know it now by heart." + +"So it doesn't interest you now to know anything about poor Lance Vane?" + +It was not the pale moonlight that made Lavinia's cheeks at that moment +look so white. Gay, who was gazing fixedly at her, saw her lips quiver. + +"Poor Lance Vane? Why do you speak of him like that? Has he had his play +accepted and has it made his fortune?" she exclaimed ironically. + +"Neither the one nor the other. Ill luck's dogged him. I fear he wasn't +born under a prosperous star." + +"I'm sorry if he's been unfortunate. Perhaps though it was his own +fault." + +A note of sadness had crept into her voice as Gay did not fail to note. + +"Well, it's hard to say. To be sure, his tragedy would not have taken +the town--neither Rich nor Cibber would have aught to do with it, but he +had worse misfortunes than that. He was denounced as a traitorous +Jacobite and thrown into Newgate." + +"That horrible place! Oh, I can't believe it," cried Lavinia, clasping +her hands. "Mr. Vane was no traitor, I'm sure--although----" + +She paused. Politically Lancelot Vane might be incapable of treason, but +where love was concerned--well, had he not acted traitorously towards +her? + +"That's true. Vane was no traitor. He was accused out of spite. I went +to see him in Newgate. They had thrust him in the 'lion's den,' the most +filthy and abominable of infernos, and he was loaded with fetters. That +was because he hadn't a penny to 'garnish' his sharks of gaolers. You +know what 'garnish' means, child?" + +"Yes, indeed--money to bribe the gaolers with." + +"Aye, from the Governor downward, and not forgetting the chaplain. I was +able by flinging about a few guineas to better his condition, and as the +gaol fever was creeping upon the poor fellow, they were glad enough to +get rid of him. While I was there, he told me the whole story. It began +like most other stories with a woman." + +"Oh, I know," burst out Lavinia, "you needn't tell me. The woman was +that worthless creature, Sally Salisbury." + +"You're wrong there," returned Gay gravely, "the woman's name was +Lavinia Fenton." + +"That's not so. It couldn't be so. The newspaper said that Vane fought +with Archibald Dorrimore, and that the quarrel was about Sally +Salisbury." + +"The quarrel was part of the plot. It was concocted to hold up Vane to +your scorn. Dorrimore wanted revenge because he thought Vane had +succeeded where he had failed. True, Sally was present when the quarrel +began, but that might have been an accident. Indeed, it's possible she +was in the plot. Vane doesn't know one way or t'other." + +Lavinia was silent for a few moments. Then she said: + +"And is Mr. Vane in Newgate now?" + +"No. He was brought to trial after innumerable delays. The evidence +against him amounted to nothing. The witnesses--one of them a lying +wretch who ought to be whipped at the cart's tail from Newgate to +Charing Cross, by name Jeremy Rofflash--were scoundrelly common +informers of the lowest type. Lancelot's father, a Whig clergyman and +strong supporter of King George, appeared in court to speak on behalf of +his son's character, and the lad was acquitted. But I fear he's broken +in health, and I doubt if he'll be the man he was before." + +Again Lavinia was silent. It was all very sad, and she felt full of pity +for Lance. But at the back of her thoughts lurked the remembrance of +Sally Salisbury's mocking face, of her vulgar spite. She was not +altogether convinced that Lancelot Vane was insensible to Sally's +undoubted attractions. She sighed. + +"To-morrow, then," went on Gay, "I shall bring you the songs I want you +to learn." + +They had now come in sight of Betty's cottage. Lavinia pointed it out to +her companion, and Gay, bidding her adieu, turned in the direction of +Hampstead village. + +Pensively Lavinia walked towards the cottage. She had told herself over +and over again that she cared no more for Lancelot--that she had blotted +him out of her life--that she wanted neither to see him nor to hear of +him. Yet now that he had gone through so terrible an ordeal she had a +yearning to offer him her sympathy, if not to forgive him. + +"No, I can't do that," she murmured. "Accident or not, that vile woman +was with him--his arms were round her. I'll swear my eyes didn't play me +false." + +Suddenly she heard a halting step behind her. The heath at night was a +favourite haunt of questionable characters from dissolute men of fashion +to footpads, and a lone woman had need to dread one as much as the +other. Betty's cottage was but a few yards away, and Lavinia quickened +her pace. + +"Miss Fenton--one moment, I entreat," came in a panting whisper. "I--I +am Lancelot Vane. I must speak with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"FOR THE SECOND TIME VANE HAD RISKED HIS LIFE FOR HER" + + +Lavinia stopped and turned, not completely round but half way. She was +in a flutter, though outwardly calm. She made no attempt to recognise +Vane, and indeed had Lancelot not announced himself, recognition would +have been difficult, so greatly had he changed. + +"You've forgotten me. You're right," he went on agitatedly. "I deserve +to be forgotten, though if you knew of the dastardly plot to crush me I +believe even _you_ would forgive me." + +"Even _I_? Am I, then, so hard-hearted?" + +"No, I don't believe you are, but everything looked so black against me +I could scarce hope that you would listen to what I have to say. And +there's so great a difference between our fortunes. Mine's blighted. +Yours--I heard you sing to-night. 'Twas ravishing. You're destined to be +famous. Mr. Gay confided to me his hopes about you. Did he say how good +he was to visit me in Newgate--that hell upon earth?" + +"Yes, Mr. Gay is the best man living. I owe everything to him." + +"I know--I know. He went over your story. You're wonderful. But I always +thought that, though I knew so little about you." + +He paused. His glistening eyes scanned her face eagerly. He would have +given worlds to know what was in her mind and heart. But she gave him no +chance. She remained impassive. + +"You've been very unfortunate, Mr. Vane. I'm truly sorry for you." + +"That's something," said he gratefully. "It consoles me for what I've +gone through. The lies told by Rofflash and Jarvis, who I thought was my +friend, nearly sent me to Tyburn." + +"And Mistress Salisbury?" + +Lavinia's manner was as cold as ice. It was only by a great effort that +she forced her lips to utter Sally's name. She knew it meant a deadly +thrust for Vane, but a woman has no mercy where another woman is +concerned. + +Vane hung his head. + +"I don't know what to think about her," said he huskily. "I can hardly +believe she was in the conspiracy to consign me to the gallows." + +"Why not? Is she in love with you?" + +"How can I tell? I--I--well, I suppose I may say in justice to her that +she did her best to nurse me through the fever that followed my wound." + +"Then she does love you," cried Lavinia roused out of her coldness. "I +can't imagine the creature doing a good action without a strong motive." + +"I've heard say she's generous and is always ready to put her hand in +her pocket to help anybody in distress." + +"Very likely. It's easy to be generous with money that comes so lightly. +Every guinea she spends is tainted," exclaimed Lavinia passionately. +"And so you accepted her help?" + +"Not in money. She found me grievously ill at Dr. Mountchance's on +London Bridge. Mountchance is a quack and a charlatan, and she had me +carried to her own lodgings else I must have died. I'd scarce recovered +from my wound when I was arrested at Rofflash's instigation and thrown +into Newgate." + +"I suppose she did right and you, too, Mr. Vane," rejoined Lavinia with +a toss of her head. "It is naught to do with me. Let us talk of other +matters. Mr. Gay tells me your father's a clergyman." + +"Yes. He would have had me be one too, but I hated everything to do with +the Church. We parted in anger, and I went my own way. Ill luck followed +me. I've made a mess of my life. Everything went wrong. I thought +Fortune was coming my way when I met you, but she turned her back." + +"That wasn't my fault, Mr. Vane." + +"Great heaven, no! 'Twas entirely my own folly and accursed fate. I've +no one to blame but myself. Wine was an easy way of drowning my +troubles." + +"You've no need to remind me of that, Mr. Vane," put in Lavinia hastily. + +"I beg your pardon for going over my sins, but open confession's good +for the soul, they say." + +"I'd rather not hear about your sins, Mr. Vane. I don't want to listen +when you talk like that. Tell me something of the other side." + +"I doubt if there is another side," he rejoined in deep dejection. "I've +had to come back to my father. He's vicar of a parish not far from here. +You see my stay in Newgate and my trial ruined me. The publishers +refused me employment and even my old companions turned their backs upon +me." + +"That was no loss." + +"Perhaps not, but it convinced me I was done for in London." + +"What do you intend to do, then?" + +"I can't tell. Nothing, I suppose. I had my tragedy returned, and I've +no heart to write another--except, maybe, my own, and that will have to +be the task of somebody else." + +"What do you mean? You're talking in riddles. How can anybody else write +your tragedy?" + +"Anybody who knew the facts could do it. You could. No one better. The +end's the difficulty--for you, not for me. But sooner or later you'd +hear what the end was." + +Lavinia grasped his wrist tightly, and looking into his face, saw his +lips twitching convulsively. + +"I understand," she burst out, "you mean to take your own life. Oh...." + +"A tragedy must have a tragic finish or it isn't a tragedy. What have I +left but for the curtain to come down?" + +"You're talking nonsense. Think of your father--your mother, if you have +one." + +"The best in the world, poor soul." + +"Very well, that settles it. You're more fortunate than I am. My +mother's about the worst." + +"Anyhow, one must die sooner or later. I was within an ace of death two +months ago. The gallows wouldn't have been worse than a Hampstead pond." + +"You're more foolish than ever. I won't listen to you. Swear to be +sensible and think no longer of the miserables. I don't believe you're +much more than a year older than me. Life's all before you." + +"Life? A very little bit of it, and what a life! Waiting for death. +Shall I tell you what Dr. Mead, the great physician, told my father who +asked him to see me? 'That young man hasn't long to live. I give him a +year. Killed by the Newgate pestilence.' Now, what do you say, Miss +Fenton?" + +"Don't call me Miss Fenton," cried Lavinia, her voice quivering. "It +makes us seem miles apart. You poor fellow! But doctors aren't always +right." + +"This one is. I feel it. But I don't care so long as you forgive me and +make me believe I'm no longer a stranger. You do pardon me, don't you, +Lavinia?" + +"Oh, yes--yes--let us forget everything but our two selves," she cried +impulsively. Her heart was overflowing with pity. She held out both her +hands. He seized them and raised them to his lips. + +"May I meet you to-morrow?" he whispered. "The only thing I would live +for is the joy of seeing you, of hearing your voice. It will be but for +a short time." + +"Oh, you mustn't say that. You don't know," she cried tremulously. + +A wistful smile stole over his wan face. Silently he held her hands for +a few seconds, pressed them spasmodically and the next moment they were +free. He had crept away. + +A wave of emotion swept over Lavinia. Her temples throbbed. A lump rose +in her throat. Her eyes were streaming. She was inexpressibly sad. +Jealousy, resentment, every harsh feeling had disappeared. Though she +had tried to combat Vane's dismal forebodings a conviction was gradually +forcing itself upon her that he was right. He was a doomed man. + +It was quite ten minutes before she was composed enough to enter the +cottage. Betty and her mother were tiptoe with excitement. The old woman +was too feeble to walk as far as the concert room, but her daughter had +gone and listened outside, and as it was a hot night and the windows +were open, she heard Lavinia's song perfectly. + +"Mercy on me, child, why, an angel couldn't ha' sung more beautiful. La, +if it only be like that in Heaven! I'd ha' given anything for mother to +ha' been there. I see you come out with a gentleman, but I know manners +better than to stare at others as is above me." + +"That was Mr. Gay, the poet. It was he who took me to the Duchess of +Queensberry. I told you how kind she was to me, didn't I?" + +"Aye, so you did. Well, but sure how the folk did clap their hands and +roar for you to sing again. They loved to hear you purely an' no wonder. +I never heard anything like it. But bless me, Lavinia--beggin' your +pardon, which I ought to say Miss Fenton--you don't seem overjoyed." + +"The girl's a-tired out," put in the old lady. "I mind it was just the +same with my poor mistress Molly. She sometimes couldn't move one foot +in front o' t'other when she comed off the stage." + +"That's true enough," said Lavinia wearily. "It's the excitement. I +shall be myself again after a night's rest." + +"Aye, to be sure. Some supper, as is all ready, and then to bed," cried +Betty. + +The prescription was good enough, but so far as the supper was concerned +Lavinia could not, to use Betty's words, "make much of a fist of it." +She was glad enough to escape the clack of tongues and the fire of +questions and crawl to her room. + +Slowly the hours crept by, and when the early summer dawn broke Lavinia +was still awake watching the faint streaks of pale gold through the +little latticed window. + +The rest in bed had not brought repose. Her mind was troubled. Lancelot +Vane's unexpected appearance and the story of his persecution strove for +mastery with the recollection of her triumph at the concert and had +overpowered it. All the old tenderness, the joy of being near him +revived. It was useless to ask why, useless to call herself weak and +silly to be drawn towards a man who had no force of character, whose +prospects were remote, whose health was undermined. The impression she +once had that he was faithless had not wholly disappeared, and she tried +to banish it. Her imagination found for him all manner of excuses. Yet +she could not decide that she wanted to see him again. One moment it +seemed as though the blank which had come into her life since their +rupture had been filled up now that he had come back, the next that it +would have been better if he had not. She had gradually come to regard +her profession and all it meant to her in the future as the only thing +that mattered, and now in a flash at the sight of him all was +uncertainty and distraction. + +But for the second time Vane had risked his life for her! Mr. Gay said +it was on her account that he had fought with Dorrimore, and Mr. Gay +would not tell an untruth. After all, this was everything. How could she +think otherwise than kindly of a man in spite of his faults, who was +ever ready to champion her? And she dropped off to sleep no longer +saying that she would not meet him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +"MR. RICH HAS GIVEN ME AN ENGAGEMENT" + + +Lavinia slept late and was only aroused by Betty hammering at her door. + +"Get up--get up, Miss Lavvy. A fine gentleman's a-waiting to see 'ee. +'Tis him as I see go out with 'ee last night from the concert." + +"Mr. Gay," said Lavinia to herself. Then aloud: "I won't be long. What's +the time?" + +"Pretty nigh mid-day. I didn't wake 'ee afore 'cause I knowed you was +tired. He's a nice pleasant gentleman, sure. I wanted to hurry granny +out o' the room, but he wouldn't hear of it. I left 'em a-talking about +play matters. Once get mother on to _that_ she'll go on fur ever." + +Lavinia sprang out of bed and hurried over her toilet. She presented +herself quite flushed and flustered. Gay received her with a smile and +noted her animation with pleasure. He unrolled a number of sheets of +music. The paper was rough and the notes, engraved and not printed as +to-day, were cramped and scratchy. + +"You know some of these tunes may be, Polly; those you don't know you'll +soon learn. I'm going to speak to Mr. Palmer about your singing two or +three just to see how the people take 'em. The words will be the old +ones, not my new verse. You won't have to trouble about my words yet +awhile." + +Gay ran over the titles of the old ballads--Purcell's "What shall I do +to show how much I love her?" "Grim King of the Ghosts," "Thomas I +cannot," "Now ponder well ye parents dear," "Pretty parrot say," "Over +the hills and far away," "Gin thou wert my ain thing," "Cease your +funning," "All in the Downs." + +"Those are the principal songs," went on Gay. + +"Yes, I know a few, but I've never heard of the others," cried Lavinia a +little dismayed. "How shall I learn the tunes?" + +"You must come to my lodgings in the village and I'll play them over to +you on the flute. My friend, Dr. Arbuthnot, will be pleased to hear you +sing 'em. It will do him good--perhaps charm away his gout. The doctor +knows you." + +"Does he, sir? I don't remember him." + +"He was at Mr. Pope's villa the day you sang to us. I must have a +harpsichord and we must have Dr. Pepusch to tell us what he thinks." + +Lavinia heard all this with great delight. She felt she was really not +only on the ladder of success but was climbing upwards safely. + +Gay then fell to talking of other matters, and incidentally mentioned +that John Rich was back from Bath where he had been taking the waters, +and that he must be talked into engaging Lavinia permanently when the +season opened in October. + +"It won't be singing yet awhile Polly, so don't be disappointed if you +have to continue to walk on the stage and come off again. I'm told his +'Harlequin' hasn't finished its run so he'll open with that and go on +till my opera's ready. I'm all impatience to see you in it." + +Then patting her cheek and chucking her under the chin Gay took his +leave. + +It would have been hard for Lavinia to say how the day passed. She +walked on the heath for no other purpose, so she said, save to revel in +the sunshine and pure air. She had a secret hope that she might +encounter Lancelot Vane, but embarrassment was mingled with that hope. +It would be better not, she felt, yet she was disappointed all the same +when after strolling about for half an hour she saw nothing of him, and +banishing her vain thoughts she went on to the concert room to inquire +if she were wanted to sing that night. + +"Yes, to be sure," said Palmer. "You're all the talk. I've seen Mr. Gay, +and he tells me he's given you some songs he would like you to sing. +Suppose you go over a couple now for me?" + +A harpsichord was in the room and Palmer asked her to sing what she +liked and he would fill in an accompaniment as best he could as she had +not brought the music. She selected "Now ponder well ye parents dear," +the tender pathos of which had always appealed to her, and "Thomas I +cannot," a merry ditty which she knew from her old experience as a +street singer would be sure to please. Palmer was delighted with both. +The first he said brought tears to his eyes and the second put him in +good humour. + +"My dear, you could not have made a better choice. I expect a crowded +room and you'll conquer 'em all." + +And so she did. There was no longer coldness--no longer indifference. +Everybody was agog with expectation, everybody was pleased. Lavinia's +triumph was complete. Night after night it was the same. Palmer had +never had so successful a season. He put money in his pocket and he paid +his new star fairly well. + +Two or three times a week for over a month Lavinia went to Gay's +lodgings and rehearsed the songs she did not know and those also with +which she was already acquainted. The words Gay gave her to sing were +not those to which she was accustomed and she found the change +confusing. Moreover, at each rehearsal some alterations in the words +were made, occasionally by Gay, occasionally at the suggestion of Dr. +Arbuthnot. But she never wearied, and so she was sufficiently rewarded +for her trouble when Gay bestowed upon her a word of praise. + +But Lancelot Vane? + +He came not in spite of his earnest entreaty that she would meet him. At +first she was wounded, then she was indignant. She remembered how +faithless he had proved, and all her bitterness against him and Sally +Salisbury revived. Then came a revulsion of feeling. Why should he not +be ill? Nay, he might even be dead. Perhaps worse. If he had carried out +his despairing threat? She pictured him floating on the surface of a +Hampstead pond and a shudder went over her at the gruesome thought. +Finally she subsided into dull resignation and strove to think no more +about him. + +It was September; with the colder weather came the waning of the +Hampstead season, the fashionable folk were returning to London and +preparing for masquerades, ridottos, the theatres and the opera. The +Great Room concerts were but thinly attended and for a whole fortnight +Lavinia had not sung twice. But this did not matter to her. She had been +written to by John Rich, and he had engaged her at a little higher +salary than he had hitherto paid. + +Lavinia sang for the last time at Hampstead and quitted the Great Room +not without regrets and doubts. Would she be as successful at the Duke's +Theatre? Would she have her chance? She well knew the rivalries a +rising actress would have to encounter. But what disturbed her most was +that Gay's enthusiasm over his opera did not seem so keen as it had +been. She dared not ask him the cause of his depression. She could only +watch his varying moods and hope the melancholy ones would pass. + +Hitherto Betty had always been waiting for her to accompany her across +the heath, but this last night she was not in her usual place at the +door. Lavinia was not surprised as Betty had a bad cold. She hurried +out, anxious to get home. Some one a yard or so from the entrance shrank +into the darkness as she passed out but not so rapidly that he was not +noticed and recognised. + +Lavinia was full of generous impulses that evening. Everything had gone +so well with her, and the future in spite of her doubts was so bright. + +"Mr. Vane," she cried and moved a step towards him. "Do I frighten you +that you don't want to see me?" + +"No," she heard him say, but it was with difficulty for his voice was so +low. "I'm not frightened but I'm afraid of what you might say or think." + +"You don't give me a chance of the one or the other," she retorted. "You +don't keep your own appointments. 'Tis a bad habit of forgetfulness with +women, it's worse with men." + +"You're right, but in my case 'tis not forgetfulness. I've seen you +every time you've sung. I've not missed once." + +"And you've never acknowledged my presence! Thank you." + +"I was at fault there, I suppose. I kept my happiness to myself. I ought +to have thanked you for the joy of seeing and hearing you but I was +doubtful whether I should not be intruding." + +"It would have been no intrusion," rejoined Lavinia her tone softening. + +"Then I hope my admiration is not an impertinence." + +"Oh, you're too modest, Mr. Vane. You've no confidence in yourself--save +when you've need to strike a blow." + +"I've no confidence that I'm acceptable to you and--but may I accompany +you across the heath? I notice that your usual bodyguard is absent +to-night." + +"Oh, you've noticed _that_. May be that bodyguard prevented what you're +pleased to call your intrusion." + +"It made no difference. Had you been alone I should have taken care that +you reached home safely but you would not have known that I was within +call. May I?" + +He had offered his arm. She accepted it. Now that he was close to her +she could see that he had vastly improved. His unhealthy pallor was +gone, his eyes had lost their glassiness, his step was firm, his body +more elastic. + +They set out. For a few yards not a word was said. Lavinia was the first +to speak. + +"I hope the Hampstead ponds have lost their attraction," said she +lightly. + +"Indeed yes--thanks to you. My mother says it is due to the Hampstead +air, but I know better. Is it true that I'm no longer to drink of the +elixir that is restoring me to health and sanity? Are you going to leave +Hampstead?" + +"Yes, I'm returning to London. Mr. Rich has given me an engagement." + +"I congratulate you. You're fortunate, but your fortune's not more than +you deserve. You're going to be famous. I'm sure of it." + +"Well--and you? You'll be writing something soon, won't you?" + +"I think not. I've no mind to court failure a second time. My father has +secured me a post at a mercers in Ludgate Hill. I'm still to mingle with +books but they're not of the sort which used to interest me. They have +to do with figures. I've undertaken to keep the accounts." + +"I wish you success. Mind you keep 'em correctly. I've my doubts about +that," rejoined Lavinia with a little laugh. "But I mustn't discourage +you." + +"You'll never do that. I love even your chiding." + +"That's nonsense." + +"It's true. I swear it." + +The talk was drifting into a personal channel and Lavinia swiftly +changed the subject. The rest of the way was occupied in friendly chat. +At parting Lancelot would have kissed her hand but she adroitly avoided +his homage. Not because she was averse but because she thought it +discreet. + +Lavinia went to bed that night content with the world and with herself. +She felt a secret pleasure that she had in a way brought Vane back to +life though how she had done it she could not explain. At any rate, +there was no magic about it. It was a very ordinary thing--no +romance--and certainly no love. So at least she argued and ended by +thinking she had convinced herself. + +In London Lavinia went back to her old lodgings in Little Queen Street, +and revived her acquaintance with Mrs. Egleton. The latter received her +with much effusion, which puzzled Lavinia not a little. The cause, +however, was revealed when the lady explained how she had heard from +John Rich that when "The Beggar's Opera" was put into rehearsal he was +going to give her the part of Lucy. + +"And you, my dear, are to play Polly." + +"So Mr. Gay says, but I don't know for certain." + +"Have you read the play?" + +"No, I've only learned my songs." + +"And the duet with me?"--"I'm bubbled." + +"No. I know nothing about that." + +"It's terribly hard, but there's plenty of time to get it by heart. I'm +dreadfully nervous though. We have to sing it without any instruments, +not even a harpsichord. All the songs are to be like that." + +"Oh.... Won't it all sound very poor?" + +"Of course it will. You see that mean hunks Rich won't go to the expense +of a band. He doesn't know how the opera will take the people. It may be +hissed off the stage the first night. I don't trouble my head about +politics--I can't say I know what the rubbish means--but I'm told +there's a good deal in the opera that's likely to give offence." + +"I can't think Mr. Gay would write anything likely to offend anybody." + +"Can't you? Well, if the Church can easily give offence, much more +likely a playwriter. Why, wasn't the Bishop of Rochester sent to the +Tower for what he said, and isn't he at this very moment in Paris and +afraid to show his nose in England? Oh, you can't call your soul your +own now-a-days. We poor playfolk may bless our lucky stars that we've +only got to say the words set down for us and not our own. Mr. Gay who +writes 'em for us'll have the worry and he's got it too, what with +Rich's scraping and saving and his insisting upon Mr. Quin playing in +the opera." + +Lavinia now saw why Gay had been depressed. But Mr. Quin the surly, who +only played in tragedies, what had he to do with Gay's opera? She put +the question to Mrs. Egleton. + +"Nothing at all. He hasn't any more idea of singing than an old crow. +It's ridiculous, but Rich will have his way. I tell you flatly, Lavinia, +if Quin plays the part of Captain Macheath he'll be laughed at and so +shall we, and the piece will be damned." + +Lavinia thought so too. She had, as Mrs. Squeamish in Wycherley's play, +once acted with Quin on the occasion of his benefit and she well +remembered his stiff, stilted style and how he domineered over +everybody. She felt rather dismayed but she could only resign herself to +the situation. There was the consolation that the opera was not likely +to be staged for some time and things might alter. In the theatre any +sudden change was possible. + +For weeks, indeed to Christmas, Lavinia remained one of the "lasses" in +"The Rape of Proserpine," but she was quite contented, for Lancelot Vane +was permanently in London in his new post and they were constantly +together. Every night he was waiting for her outside the stage door and +saw her across the Fields to Little Queen Street. It was not safe, he +protested, for her to be in that dark dreary waste alone at night and he +was right. Lincoln's Inn Fields was one of the worst places in London. +The most daring robberies even in daylight were of common occurrence. + +Despite the short days of winter they took long walks together. On the +day "betwixt Saturday and Monday," like the lad and the lass of Carey's +famous ballad at that time all the rage, to them Sunday was the day of +days. Sometimes they strolled to the pleasant fields of Islington and +Hornsey; sometimes they revisited Hampstead, and occasionally by way of +the Westminster and Lambeth ferry to the leafy groves of Camberwell, and +the Dulwich Woods. They never talked of love; they were contented and +happy, may be because both were conscious they _were_ in love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"POLLY IS TO BE MY NAME FOR EVER AFTER" + + +The new year brought the first rehearsal of "The Beggar's Opera." +Hippisley with his rich, unctuous humour was Peachum, and not less well +suited to Lockit was Jack Hall's quaint face and naive manner. James +Spiller, the favourite of the gods, was Mat o' the Mint, and the solemn +visaged Quin essayed Macheath. Lavinia as Polly was both excited and +nervous, and Lucy (Mrs. Egleton) not less so. The rest of the cast +comprised actors and actresses of experience, and they went through +their parts philosophically and without enthusiasm. The motive and the +plot and the many songs made up a play which was to them quite novel, +and they were somewhat bewildered to know what to do with it. Gay +hovered about unable to decide whether his opera was going to be a +thumping success or a dismal failure. The general impression was in the +direction of the latter, but no one save Quin gave vent to his or her +sentiments. + +"Well, what d'ye think, Mr. Quin?" asked Gay anxiously when the +rehearsal was over. + +Quin refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff before he answered. + +"Humph--can't say--can't say. It'll be a riddle to the audience. Bad +thing to puzzle 'em, eh?" + +"Surely it's plain enough. But if it's amusing, what else matters?" + +"I won't put my opinion against yours, Mr. Gay and Mr. Pope's, but----" + +Quin shrugged his shoulders and stalked away, and Lavinia, who was +watching the two from a distance, ran across the stage, her face a +little troubled. She had interpreted Quin's gesture correctly. + +"Oh, Mr. Gay----" she stopped. Gay was looking so sad. + +"Mr. Quin doesn't like the opera, Polly. What do you say?" + +"Mr. Quin doesn't like it because he can't act the part," cried Lavinia +indignantly. "None of us like him in it any more than he does himself. +He's not my idea of a highwayman." + +"Why, what do you know about highwaymen? But I forgot, of course. Wasn't +the coach that brought you to London from Mr. Pope's villa stopped by +one?" + +"Yes," rejoined Lavinia hastily, "but he was a brutal ruffian. Not your +Captain Macheath at all. Mr. Quin chills me. I can't fancy myself in +love with him. Nor can Mrs. Egleton. She says she could no more quarrel +over him than she could over a stick. His singing and his voice give us +the 'creeps.'" + +"Faith, both are bad enough, but Mr. Rich seems bound to him." + +"Why doesn't he try Tom Walker? When Tom isn't drunk, he sings like an +angel." + +"I know--I know. Well, we'll see." + +But nothing was done, and at the second rehearsal Quin's Captain +Macheath was more droningly dismal than ever. A dead silence followed +the dance with which the last act concludes, and amid the stillness came +from somewhere behind the scenes the sound of a mellow tenor voice +trolling Macheath's lively melody, "When the heart of a man's depressed +with care." + +"By the lord," quoth Quin, "that's the voice of Tom Walker. He's the man +for Macheath. Mr. Rich, I resign the part. It was never meant for me. +Give it to Walker." + +John Rich grunted, but he made no objection. It so happened that Walker +could act as well as sing, and that made all the difference in Rich's +estimation. So one great obstacle to success was removed. But there were +others. The duets and the choruses sounded terribly thin without an +instrument to support them. The "tricky" duet between Polly and Lucy, +"I'm bubbled," broke down constantly, and both declared they would never +sing it properly. But Rich was not to be talked out of his whim to have +no accompaniments. + +One morning in the midst of the rehearsal, who should walk on the stage +but the stately Duchess of Queensberry. Lavinia, in quite a flutter, +whispered to Walker the name of the distinguished visitor. John Rich +received her with great deference and conducted her to a seat. + +"Go on, please, Mr. Rich, don't let me interrupt your business," said +the great lady affably. + +The rehearsal went on and eyes of the company furtively wandered to the +face of the duchess, anxious to know what so powerful a personage and so +keen and outspoken a critic thought of the performance. But the serene +face of her grace never changed. + +The rehearsing of one act was over, and there was an interval before +commencing the next one. The duchess turned to Gay. + +"How is this, Mr. Gay? Where are the instruments? Don't you have them at +rehearsals?" + +"Mr. Rich means to do without a band for the singing. He says it isn't +necessary." + +"Rich is a fool," retorted her grace with much emphasis. "He knows +nothing about it. Send him to me." + +Gay went about his errand half pleased, for he quite agreed with the +duchess, and half in trepidation. A quarrel between Rich and the lady +autocrat might cause the opera to end in disaster. + +Rich dared not offend Queensberry's duchess whose opinion went for so +much among the aristocracy. The stage was practically dependent on its +noble patrons. Without them a "benefit," which every notable member of a +theatrical company looked forward to as making good the insufficiency of +their salaries, would be nothing without the support of the nobility, +who, when in the mood, would readily unloose their purse strings. Rich +therefore made but feeble resistance and the impetuous Kitty had her +way. + +The band, small as it was, just half-a-dozen instruments, could not be +called together at a moment's notice. Rich accordingly invited his +visitor to come the following day, when all would be in readiness. He +was as good as his word, and the duchess was graciously pleased to +express her satisfaction. Polly and Lucy went back to their lodgings in +high spirits. + +January 29th was fixed for the production of the opera, and the days +sped rapidly. Everybody concerned was on tenterhooks. Who could say how +the audience would take a play the like of which they had never seen? +There was also danger in the political allusions contained in many of +the verses. Sir Robert Walpole, England's most powerful minister of +state, had taken a box and would be present with a party of his friends. +What would _he_ think? A riot was not beyond the bounds of possibility. +The play might be suppressed. A prosecution for seditious proceedings +might follow. Anything might happen. + +Meanwhile the house was packed. Every seat on each side of the stage +reserved for the "quality" was occupied. There was just room for the +actors and no more. The gallery was crammed with a mob--a host of +footmen prone to unruly behaviour, butchers from Clare Market ready to +applaud their favourite Jemmy Spiller, Covent Garden salesmen and +porters--a miscellaneous rabble that might easily become turbulent. + +In the pit were well to do tradesmen and their wives cheek by jowl with +well seasoned playgoers who had seen every stage celebrity and every +famous tragedy and comedy for the past quarter of a century, who were +well versed in all the traditional "business" of the boards, who in fact +were the real critics to be pleased--or offended. Into the second row +Lancelot Vane had squeezed himself all expectation, with eyes and ears +for no one but Polly Peachum. + +Gay's friends filled a box next to that occupied by the Duke of Argyll, +an enthusiastic patron of the stage. Gay himself was there supported on +either side by Pope, Dr. Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke and others. Dean Swift, +who had had so much to do with the inception of the opera and who had +contributed to it some of the most stinging verse, would have been +present had he not been in Ireland at the death-bed of his beloved +Stella, and so also would have been Congreve but that he was blind and +in feeble health. + +It was seen at the very commencement that the audience was not disposed +to accept the innovations of the "Beggar's Opera" without protest. To +begin with there was no time-honoured prologue, and worse, there was no +preliminary overture. They could not understand the dialogue between a +player and the beggar, introduced as the author, with which the opera +opens. They grumbled loudly. They thought they were to be defrauded of +their usual music and they wouldn't allow the dialogue to proceed. Jack +Hall who as a comedian was acceptable all round was sent on by the +troubled manager to explain. + +Hall advanced to the edge of the stage. There were no footlights in +those days. Favourite though Jack Hall was not a hand nor a voice was +raised to greet him. Jack Hall lost his nerve--which, however, as it +turned out was the most fortunate thing which could have happened--and +this is what he stammered out: + +"Ladies and gentlemen, we--we--beg you'll not call for first and second +music because you all know there is never any music at all at an opera!" + +A roar of laughter followed this unique apology accentuated by the +unconsciously comical twist of Hall's face with which the audience were +so familiar; good humour was restored, the dialogue was permitted to be +finished and the grumblers were further appeased by the playing of Dr. +Pepusch's overture. + +More pitfalls had to be got over safely. Every eye was turned on Sir +Robert's heavy rubicund, impassive face when Peachum sang the verse: + + + "The priest calls the lawyer a cheat, + The lawyer be-knaves the divine, + And the statesman because he's so great, + Thinks his trade as honest as mine!" + + +The statesman in the box, whatever he might have felt, was far too +astute to show any sign of ill temper. His eternal smile was as smug as +ever and so also was it over the duet in the second act: + + + "When you censure the age + Be cautious and sage + Lest the courtiers offended should be; + If you mention vice or bribe, + 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, + Each cries 'That was levelled at me.'" + + +The audience were somewhat timid in applauding this, though all felt how +apt it was, until they saw Walpole actually clapping his hands, and then +they followed suit right heartily. + +Still success was not assured. True Polly captivated her hearers with +her sweet natural delivery of "Can love be controlled by advice?" and +afterwards with the tender pathos of "Oh ponder well," and there were +roars of laughter and half suppressed chuckles from the men and titters +from the women at the witty talk and the cynical hits at love and +matrimonial felicity, but it was not until Spiller led the rousing +choruses, "Fill every glass," and "Let us take the road," the latter +adapted to the march from Handel's opera of "Rinaldo," then all the +rage, that they were won over. The experienced Duke of Argyll cried out +aloud enough for Pope in the next box to hear him, "It'll do--it must +do--I see it in the eyes of 'em." And the duke was right. + +When all was said and done pretty Polly Peachum was the pivot around +which success revolved. Within twenty-four hours all the town was +talking of her bewitching face, her artless manner, her sweet voice. The +sordid surroundings of Newgate, its thieves, male and female, its thieve +takers, gave zest to her naturalness and simplicity. Moreover she was +not in a fashionable dress, she wore no hoops (and neither did Lucy) and +this in itself was a novelty and a contrast. + +It was some time after the performance that Lavinia--whom everyone now +called Polly--left the theatre. The noblemen who had seats on the stage +crowded round her overwhelming her with compliments and looks of +admiration. One of their number, a man of portly presence at least twice +her age, whose face suggested good nature but little else, was assiduous +in his attentions. Lavinia accepted his flattery as a matter of course, +and thought nothing more about him. She was told he was the Duke of +Bolton, but duke or earl made no difference to her. Some of her titled +admirers offered to escort her home but she shook her head laughingly +and refused everyone. She knew very well that Lancelot Vane would be +waiting for her as usual at the stage door, and she did not intend +either to disappoint him or make him jealous. + +She joined him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with excitement. +Vane looked eagerly and anxiously into her face and gave a little sigh. + +"Well," said she, "are you disappointed with me?" + +"Disappointed! Good heavens, no. Why Lavinia--" + +"Lavinia," she cried tossing her head coquettishly. "Polly if you +please. Polly is to be my name for ever after. Everybody knows me now as +Polly, though dear Mr. Gay called me so long and long ago. Isn't it +wonderful how his words have come true?" + +"Mr. Gay is a clever man--a great man. I wish--" + +"Yes, and what do you wish? Something nice I hope." + +"I don't know about that. My wish was that I had been born a real poet +and dramatist and had written 'The Beggar's Opera' for you. But my wits +are dull--like myself." + +"Please don't be foolish. I want you to tell me how I sang--how I acted. +You didn't mind Tom Walker making love to me?" + +"No, I wished my arm had been round you instead of his, that was all." + +"Wishing again! Can't you do something beyond wishing?" + +She flashed a swift look at him and then the dark silky lashes drooped. +He must have been dull indeed not to have understood. His arm was about +her. He drew her closer to him passionately. It was the first time, +though he had over and over again longed to do so. + +"I love you--don't you know I do?" he whispered. + +"I've sometimes thought as much but you've been very slow in telling +me," she murmured lightly. + +"Ah, I was afraid what your answer might be. Ridicule and a reproof for +my impertinence. Even now I don't realise my happiness." + +"Then you _must_," she cried imperiously. "How do you know I shan't be +whirled away from you unless you hold me very tight? Oh, Lance, I've a +misgiving--" + +She stopped. She shivered slightly and he drew her cloak tightly about +her and kissed the cherry lips within the hood. + +"You're cold, dearest. Let us hurry. I ought not to have lingered," said +he. + +"No, no. I'm not a bit cold. I only had a sort of feeling that--kiss me +again." + +He was quick to obey and her kisses were as fervent as his. + +"See me to my door and go quickly," she murmured. + +"To-morrow, dear love, we shall meet each other again," was his reply. + +"Why yes--yes." + +"Many times more." + +She nodded. Something seemed to choke her utterance. One more kiss and +she vanished into the house. + +Vane remained for a minute or two gazing at the dwelling that enshrined +his divinity and lost in rapture. Then he slowly wandered to his +lodgings marvelling at the glimpse of heaven which to his imagination +had been revealed to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + +Before the week was out the only topic in which the town took any +interest was "The Beggar's Opera," and the "all Conquering Polly," as an +advertisement setting forth the attractions of a miniature screen +designed as a memento of the opera, had it. In a score of ways +enterprising tradesmen adapted the scenes and the songs to their wares +and in all Polly was the principal feature. Polly became the fashion +everywhere. Amateur flautists played her songs, amateur vocalists +warbled them. Hardly a week passed without one daily journal or the +other burst into verse in her praise. + +As for Polly herself she was inundated with love letters, some written +seriously, others purely out of admiration. Offers of marriage came both +personally and through the post. The world of gallants was at her feet. +She laughed at most of her would-be lovers and listened to none. The +good natured Duke of Bolton approached her constantly and was never +tired of going to the opera. Seated as he was on the stage it was easy +enough for him to express his adoration. He was also ever ready with +presents which he proffered with so respectful an air that she could +hardly refuse them. But what did the duke mean? Had he not a duchess +already? True, he was not on the best of terms with her. He had been +forced into marriage by his father and he and his wife had been +separated some six years. But this made no difference. The duchess was +still in the world. + +Polly--henceforth she dropped the Lavinia--heard what his grace had to +say but gave him no encouragement beyond smiling bewitchingly now and +again. She did not dislike him, but she did not care for him. Lancelot +Vane was still the hero of her romance and that romance would never die. +Sometimes she amused herself and Lancelot too by telling him of the +offers of marriage she had received and how she had refused them, but +she never mentioned the Duke of Bolton. + +One night--it was the twenty-second performance of the opera--Lancelot +Vane was in his accustomed place at the end of the second row in the +pit. There was a vacant seat on the other side of his, and half way +through the third act a late comer was heard growling and without saying +by your leave or with your leave attempted to force himself past Vane +into the empty seat. + +Lance looked up angry at the rudeness of the fellow. He started. He +recognised Jeremy Rofflash-Rofflash very much the worse for the drink, +very much the worse in every way since Vane had last set eyes upon him. + +Things had gone very badly with the swashbuckler. Archibald Dorrimore, +his old patron, was dead, killed by dicing, drinking and other vices. +Rofflash had had to take to the "road" more than ever and he'd had very +bad luck. A bullet from a coach passenger's pistol had struck his knee +and he now limped. He was nearly always drunk and when drunk all his old +hatreds were uppermost. Directly he saw Vane, his bleary eyes glistened +and his lips tightened over his uneven teeth and the ugly gaps between. + +"Devil take me, if it isn't the cockerel whose feathers I've sworn to +pluck. Come to ogle the young trollop on the stage, I'll swear. If I +know anything about the hussy, she'll turn you down for the first spark +who flings a handful of guineas in her lap." + +Jeremy's gruff rasping tones were heard all over the house. Polly and +Lucy were singing their duet "Would I might be hanged," and both cast +indignant looks at the side of the pit whence the interruption came. But +they could only hear, not see, so dimly was the theatre lighted. +Meanwhile Vane had sprung to his feet. + +"You lie you ruffian," he shouted and his hand went to his sword. + +The people in the front and back benches rose; the women screamed; one +of the theatre attendants who chanced to be near seized Rofflash who +struggled violently and swore loudly. Some of the audience came to the +attendant's assistance and the fellow was flung out. The uproar soon +subsided--it had not lasted more than a couple of minutes, the music +went on and Polly thought no more about it. She had not the slightest +idea that the chief actors in it so nearly concerned herself. + +The sequel to the discomposing interruption was totally unpremeditated. +Polly was the "toast of the town," the idol of the sparks of fashion. +Their applause was uproarious when she and Lucy recommenced the duet, +but this sympathetic encouragement was not enough for the more ardent +spirits. When she issued from the stage door she found awaiting her a +bodyguard of young aristocrats dressed in the height of the mode and in +the gayest of colours. At her appearance every man's sword flashed from +its scabbard and was uplifted to do her honour. + +Never was such a triumph. No wonder her heart bounded and her cheeks +flushed with pleasure. She smiled right and left and bowed; the rapiers +on either side crossed each other over her head and formed a canopy +under which she walked with a dainty grace. She was not permitted to +pass from beneath its shelter. The canopy kept pace with her, closing +behind. And in this way the procession set out to cross Lincoln's Inn +Fields amid cheers and shouts of "Pretty Polly Peachum!" + +It would seem as though the services of Polly's protectors were not +wholly unneeded. As she emerged from the door and the gallants closed +round her there was a sudden movement in the mob, a fellow forced his +way through, hurling curses at anyone who tried to stop him. Apparently +his object was to get to a man standing close to the bodyguard. Anyway, +when the intruder was behind this man a woman's scream pierced the din +of voices, then came the report of a pistol and the man staggered. Those +nearest him, seized with panic, fell back and he sank to the ground. + +A woman was seen to fling herself on her knees, bend over the body and +gaze into the face already becoming ashen. The next instant she sprang +to her feet, her features drawn, her eyes blazing. Pointing to the +assassin who was rushing through the crowd she begged someone to stop +him, but the big pistol he was flourishing deterred them. + +"Cowards!" she screamed in fury. "Will no one seize a murderer? If +you're men you'll help me." + +She made a wild rush in the direction the ruffian had taken and a score +or so of apprentices and a handful of Clare Market butchers recovering +from their surprise joined her. + +Meanwhile Polly and her escort gaily went on their way. They were dimly +conscious of the affray but such occurrences at night and especially in +Lincoln's Inn Fields were frequent, and not one of the party heeded. How +indeed could Polly imagine that her romance had ended in a tragedy, that +the man lying so still, his white face upturned to the moonlit sky, was +her lover, Lancelot Vane--that the man who had done him to death was +Jeremy Rofflash--that the woman in hot chase of his murderer was Sally +Salisbury? + +Rofflash had made for the network of courts and allies of Clare Market +hoping to double upon his pursuers and gain the Strand, and then hurry +to the Alsatia of Whitefriars. But some of those following knew the +intricacies of Clare Market better than Rofflash, and he twisted and +turned like a hunted hare, his difficulties momentarily increasing, for +as the excited mob fought their way through the narrow lanes their +numbers swelled. True, Jeremy Rofflash made his way to the Strand +without being captured, but he failed to reach Whitefriars. The Strand +and Fleet Street gave his pursuers a better chance. But because of his +pistol none dared touch him. + +Despite his limp he could run. Along Ludgate skirting St. Paul's, he was +soon in Cheapside. By this time Sally Salisbury was nearly exhausted, +and in St. Paul's Churchyard she jumped into a hackney coach and shaking +her purse at the driver bade him join in the pursuit. The Poultry, the +Royal Exchange were left behind, but the coach--with Sally inside +continually calling upon the driver to go faster, at the same time +promising him any reward he liked to ask--gradually drew upon the +fugitive. The latter was close to the road leading to London Bridge, and +turning, he fired his second barrel at the horse and the animal stumbled +and fell. + +Rofflash thought he was safe, but he was not aware that the leader of +his pursuers was Sally Salisbury and that she knew perfectly well why he +was running towards the bridge. She sprang from the now useless coach +and called upon the crowd to follow her. Meanwhile Rofflash had +distanced his pursuers. + +"The apothecary's shop on London Bridge," she screamed. + +Dr. Mountchance at that moment was engaged in what to him was his +greatest pleasure in life--counting his gold. He was in the midst of +this absorbing occupation when he heard three separate knocks at his +outside door given in a peculiarly distinctive way. He knew Jeremy's +signal and he hurried his gold into an iron bound coffer which he +locked. + +"If the captain's made a good haul so much the better," he muttered. +"It's time he did. He's had the devil's bad luck of late." + +The old man shuffled to the door and shot back the bolts. Rofflash +precipitated himself inside with such haste and violence that he nearly +upset Mountchance. + +"Lock the door," he gasped. "Quick. I've a pack of hungry wolves at my +heels." + +He leaned against a heavy piece of furniture hardly able to speak while +the apothecary hastily fastened the door. Scarcely had he finished than +yells and heavy footsteps were heard; there came heavy thuds and fierce +kicks followed by repeated hammering. The door was well protected by +iron panels and besides its bolts a stout iron bar from post to post +helped to make it secure. + +The two men looked at each other and Mountchance trembled. The crowd +outside were not officers of the law, neither were they soldiery. What +had caused them to hunt down Rofflash? Not because he had committed a +robbery on the King's highway. The rabble had a secret sympathy with +highwaymen. + +"What have you done?" whispered the old man through his white lips. + +"Shot a man. It was a fair fight--or might have been had it come to a +tussle." + +Mountchance knew Rofflash to be a hardened liar. The truth probably was +that he had committed a murder. But there was no time to argue the +point. To judge by the terrific blows which came at regular intervals +something much more formidable than an ordinary hammer was being used. +Then there was the sound of splintering wood. The door sturdy as it was +would not stand much more. As a matter of fact the mob had procured a +stout wooden beam from somewhere, twelve or fourteen feet long and were +making it serve as a battering-ram. + +"Damnation! I'm not going to be trapped," roared Rofflash, "I know the +secret way to the chapel. You stay here and face 'em." + +"No. If that murderous mob doesn't find you they'll turn upon me. I'm an +old man but they'll have no mercy," whined Mountchance. + +"You fool. Can't you see that some one _inside_ the house must have +bolted and barred the door? If they don't find you they'll search until +they do. You must tell them that I'm not in the place--that you haven't +seen me. That'll satisfy 'em and they'll go away quickly." + +"It's you that's the fool. Somebody must have seen you enter--how else +did they know you were here?" + +Another ominous splintering noise, then the sharp crack of ripping wood. + +"No more of this damned nonsense," muttered Rofflash, and swinging his +arm he gave Mountchance a blow with the flat of his hand, toppling him +over. Without waiting to see what injury he had inflicted Rofflash +rushed to a tall cabinet, entered it and closed the doors after him just +as a yell of savage joy was raised outside. The iron bar was still +across the entrance but there was a jagged aperture above and below. A +couple of seconds more and the cabinet was empty. Rofflash had +disappeared through a secret door at the back. + +Mountchance's house, as already mentioned, was really an adjunct of St. +Thomas's chapel, so far at least as the foundation was concerned. This +foundation had once formed the lower chapel or crypt and was then the +only distinctive relic of the bridge built by Peter of Colechurch, in +the thirteenth century. Rofflash descended the uneven loose bricks of +the narrow winding staircase into the dungeon-like apartment. The stone +floor was not much above the level of the river at high tide and a +lancet window on each side of the bridge admitted a glimmer of light in +the day time. It was now pitch dark. + +Rofflash groped his way over the slimy floor to a small door which he +knew opened on to an abutment between two arches. He only did this by +feeling the wall as he went. He hoped when outside to hail a passing +wherry. At any rate it was unlikely his hiding place would be discovered +by any of the mob. + +In the meantime the shop and room above were filled with a rabble more +than half of which was out for plunder. Mountchance was lying on the +floor unconscious, but no one bothered about him. In the opinion of some +it was perhaps as well, as he would be unable to prevent them doing as +they liked. This opinion was not held by Sally Salisbury. She was +convinced Rofflash was in the house though she had not seen him actually +enter. It angered her to think that Mountchance who could have told her +anything was as good as dead. She called upon the crowd to search for +the murderer but they turned a deaf ear to her entreaties. They were +much more interested in looting the place; and finding the iron bound +coffer and hearing the chink of coin within, they attacked it savagely +and succeeded in smashing the lock. + +The sight of gold was too much for them. They scrambled, they fought, +they trampled upon each other. The yellow metal acted upon them like +strong drink. In the midst of the pandemonium came a deafening +explosion, a vivid flash of red, a volume of acrid suffocating vapour. +Another explosion and men came rushing from Mountchance's +laboratory--terror written in their faces. Helter-skelter the crowd +darted from the house forcing Sally Salisbury with them whether she +would or not. In the mad fight for gold large glass bottles filled with +acids, alcohol and other inflammable liquids had been upset and smashed, +and the smouldering fire in the furnace did the rest. What with the +bundles of dried herbs which burnt like so much tinder and the woodwork, +the panelled walls and furniture, nothing could save the house. + +In the hurry and scramble Sally had been wedged against the wall +surmounting the central and largest arch. Upon this arch no house had +been built. Below the spot where she was held a prisoner the river was +rushing with its monotonous roar as if rejoicing at or indifferent to +the terrible tragedy above. At first she saw nothing but clouds of +suffocating smoke pouring from the windows, then showers of sparks +floating downwards and vanishing in the water, and finally tongues of +fire hissing and roaring from within the house and mingling in one huge +flaring flame. + +Looking over the parapet she caught sight of a gaunt figure on the +abutment now strongly illuminated, now in deep shadow according to the +height and strength of the flames and the wayward wind. So fantastic, so +grotesque was this figure, his gesticulations, his waving hands, he +suggested a demon rather than a human being. Now and again he put a +curved hand to his mouth. Doubtless he was shouting but the roar of the +fire and the howling of the mob smothered every sound. + +It was Rofflash--his true character revealed, nerve stricken, a coward +at heart. Yet he was in no immediate danger. The fire could not reach +him. The only thing he had to fear was the rising tide should it chance +to wash over the abutment and sweep him off his feet. + +But it is always the unexpected that happens. Some receptacle with +inflammable contents which the fire had overlooked--probably it was +stored in one of the upper rooms--exploded with terrific violence. Roof, +rafters, tiles, brickwork, shot into the air and fell in every +direction. Sally with many others was sent prostrate by the shock, but +was uninjured. When she was able to rise and look over the parapet no +one was on the abutment. Jeremy Rofflash had met his fate. + + +"The Beggar's Opera" continued on its triumphant way. Night after night +the theatre was packed. Night after night Polly was listened to with +increasing delight. She had never sung her plaintive ditties with such +pathos. No one suspected the reason. No one knew that she had given her +heart to the poor young man killed in a brawl--so the newspapers +described it--in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Polly's love for Lancelot Vane +was a secret sacred to herself. She gave her confidence to nobody--not +even to Gay. She had been happy in her love dreams, happier perhaps than +if they had become realities. Her roaming life had not brought romance +to her until she met Lancelot Vane. The sweetheartings of others had +always seemed sordid and commonplace. Had Vane been presumptuous she +would have had nothing to say to him, but she was drawn towards him +because he was drifting to his ruin and she yearned to save him. That +she should see him no more deadened her heart and numbed her brain. So +she made no effort to find out the why and wherefore of his death and +the story never reached her. + +Sally Salisbury could have told her, but Sally, to her credit, be it +said, did not seek to inflict a wound for the mere satisfaction of +witnessing the agony of her rival. Vane was dead and retribution had +swiftly overtaken his assassin. What was left? Nothing. Sally had also +found romance, and some tender womanly instinct--an instinct too often +blunted by her life and temptations--sealed her lips. She had avenged +the death of the only man she ever loved with anything like purity. Let +that suffice. + +The opera had an unprecedented run of sixty-two nights. Every one +marvelled. Such a thing had never happened before and when the next +season the run was continued its attractions were undimmed, save in one +particular--the original Polly Peachum was no longer to be seen or +heard. Gradually it became gossipped about that the Duke of Bolton's +suit had succeeded. The Polly over whom everybody, rich and poor, high +and low, for nearly five months had lost their heads and their hearts, +had quitted the stage for ever. Twenty-three years later the duke was +able to prove his devotion by making her his duchess. Even then she +rarely took part in fashionable functions. Her simple tastes and dislike +of display never deserted her. Yet she was not and is not forgotten, +though nearly two hundred years have passed away since she burst into +the full flush of fame. Her memory is preserved in every one of her +innumerable successors who have succeeded in reproducing in any degree +her charm and artlessness. This memory is not attached to Lavinia +Duchess of Bolton, but to "Pretty Polly Peachum." + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + +***** This file should be named 18547-8.txt or 18547-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/4/18547/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18547-8.zip b/18547-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70aab75 --- /dev/null +++ b/18547-8.zip diff --git a/18547-h.zip b/18547-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b3b428 --- /dev/null +++ b/18547-h.zip diff --git a/18547-h/18547-h.htm b/18547-h/18547-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8b4b4e --- /dev/null +++ b/18547-h/18547-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9668 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .left {text-align: left;} + .tbrk { margin-top: 2.75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem div {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem div.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em;} + + + /* index */ + + div.index ul li { padding-top: 1em ;text-align: left; } + + div.index ul ul ul, div.index ul li ul li { padding: 0; text-align: left; } + + div.index ul { list-style: none; margin: 0; } + + div.index ul, div.index ul ul ul li { display: inline; } + + div.index .subitem { display: block; padding-left: 2em; } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Madame Flirt + A Romance of 'The Beggar's Opera' + +Author: Charles E. Pearce + +Release Date: June 10, 2006 [EBook #18547] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>MADAME FLIRT</h1> + +<h3>A ROMANCE OF<br /> "THE BEGGAR'S OPERA"</h3> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>CHARLES E. PEARCE</h2> + +<h4><i>"Why how now Madam Flirt"—Lucy.</i></h4> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF<br />"STIRRING DEEDS IN THE GREAT WAR," "A QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK,"<br />"CORINTHIAN JACK," ETC.</h4> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h4>LONDON<br />STANLEY PAUL & CO.<br />31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.2.</h4> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h4><i>Printed in Great Britain at the Athenæum Printing Works, Redhill</i></h4> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">First Published in 1922.</span></h4> +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a> "IF YOUR NAME ISN'T POLLY IT OUGHT TO BE"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a> "GO YOUR OWN WAY YOU UNGRATEFUL MINX"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a> "OH, MISTRESS MINE, WHERE ART THOU ROAMING?"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a> "IF WE'RE NOT TO BE MARRIED TELL ME"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a> "MANY A MAN WOULD GIVE A HANDFUL OF GUINEAS FOR A KISS FROM SALLY SALISBURY"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a> MOTHER AND DAUGHTER</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a> "I WISH I WERE A RICH LADY FOR YOUR SAKE"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a> "YOU'VE A MIGHTY COAXING TONGUE"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a> "YOU WERE BRAVE AND FOUGHT FOR ME"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a> IN THE CHAPTER COFFEE HOUSE</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a> LAVINIA'S PILGRIMAGE</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a> "ARE WORDS THE ONLY SIGNS OF LOVE?"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a> "I'M FIXED ON POLLY PEACHUM"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a> "I WISH YOU GOOD NIGHT AND MORE SENSE"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a> "A MAN SHOULD FIGHT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a> "THEY'RE TO MEET AT ROSAMOND'S POND"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a> "THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF MAKING LOVE"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a> "SOME DAY YOU'LL BE THE TALK OF THE TOWN"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a> AT ROSAMUND'S POND</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a> "WHAT DID I TELL THEE, POLLY?"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a> "IF WE FIGHT.... WHAT SAY YOU TO LAVINIA FENTON?"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a> "MOLL'S SINGIN' BROUGHT HER LUCK AND MAY BE YOURS WILL TOO"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a> "HALF LONDON WILL BE CALLING YOU POLLY"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a> "FOR THE SECOND TIME VANE HAD RISKED HIS LIFE FOR HER"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a> "MR. RICH HAS GIVEN ME AN ENGAGEMENT"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a> "POLLY IS TO BE MY NAME FOR EVER AFTER"</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a> THE CURTAIN FALLS</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h1>MADAME FLIRT</h1> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h4>"IF YOUR NAME ISN'T POLLY IT OUGHT TO BE"</h4> + +<p>"As pretty a wench as man ever clapped eyes on. Wake up, Lance, and look +at her."</p> + +<p>The portly man of genial aspect sitting in the corner of the bow window +of the Maiden Head Inn at the High Street end of Dyott Street in the +very heart of St. Giles, clapped his sleeping friend on the shoulder and +shook him. The sleeper, a young man whose finely drawn features were +clouded with the dregs of wine, muttered something incoherently, and +with an impatient twist shifted his body in the capacious arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"Let him alone, Mr. Gay. When a man's in his cups he's best by himself. +'Twill take him a day's snoring to get rid of his bout. The landlord +here tells me he walked with the mob from Newgate to Tyburn and back and +refreshed himself at every tavern on the way, not forgetting, I warrant +you, to fling away a guinea at the Bowl, the Lamb, and the 'Black Jack' +over yonder, and drink to the long life of the daring rogue in the cart +and the health of the hangman to boot."</p> + +<p>"Long life indeed, my lord. A couple of hours at most. Not that the +length of life is to be measured by years. I don't know but what it's +possible to cram one's whole existence into a few hours, thanks to that +thief of time," rejoined John Gay pointing to the bottle on the table.</p> + +<p>The poet's placid face saddened. John Gay had always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> taken life as a +pleasure, but there is no pleasure without pain as he had come to +discover. Maybe at that moment a recollection of his follies gave his +conscience a tinge. Of Gay it might be said that he had no enemies other +than himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the passing hour is the best doubtless, since we never know whether +the next may not be the worst," laughed Henry St. John, Lord +Bolingbroke. "I'll wager Jack Sheppard's best was when the noose was +round his neck. The rascal will trouble nervous folks no more. After all +he was of some use. See that drunken rabble. But for the brave show he +made at Tyburn yesterday, would those ladies and gentlemen be merry +making, think you, and would the tavern keepers and the gin sellers be +putting money in their pockets?"</p> + +<p>Gay turned his eyes to the open window.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to think of the rascally knave or the rabble either. My +thoughts are on yonder pretty little jade. Look for yourself, +Bolingbroke. You're not so insensible to beauty as Lance Vane is at this +moment."</p> + +<p>"Faith, I hope not. Where's the charmer?" said Bolingbroke walking to +the window.</p> + +<p>"Stay. She's going to sing. She has the voice of a nightingale. I've +heard her before. Lord! to think she has to do it for a living!"</p> + +<p>"Humph. She has courage. Most girls would die rather than rub shoulders +with that frousy, bestial, drunken mob."</p> + +<p>"Aye, but that little witch subdues them all with her voice. What says +Will Congreve? Music has charms to soothe a savage breast? Listen."</p> + +<p>A girl slight in figure but harmoniously proportioned had placed herself +about two yards from the bow window. She fixed her eyes on Gay and her +pretty mouth curved into a smile. Then she sang. The ditty was "Cold and +Raw," a ballad that two hundred years ago or so, never failed to delight +everybody from the highest to the lowest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> She gave it with natural +feeling and without any attempt at display. The voice was untrained but +this did not matter. It was like the trill of a bird, sweet, flexible +and pure toned.</p> + +<p>"A voice like that ought not to be battered about. It's meant for +something better than bawling to a mob. What says your lordship?"</p> + +<p>Bolingbroke's face had become grave, almost stern. His high, somewhat +narrow, slightly retreating forehead, long nose and piercing eyes lent +themselves readily to severity. Twenty-five years before it was not so. +He was then the gayest of the gay and in the heyday of his career. Much +had happened since then. Disappointed political ambitions and political +flirtations with the Jacobite party had ended in exile in France, from +which, having been pardoned, he had not long returned.</p> + +<p>Meeting Gay, the latter suggested a prowl in St. Giles, where life was +in more than its usual turmoil consequent upon the execution of Jack +Sheppard; so Viscount Bolingbroke revisited the slums of St. Giles, +which had been the scene of many an orgy in his hot youth.</p> + +<p>The nobleman returned no answer to Gay's question. His thoughts had gone +back to his early manhood when he took his pleasure wherever he found +it. In some of his mad moods St. Giles was more to his taste than St. +James's. So long as the face was beautiful, and the tongue given to +piquant raillery, any girl was good enough for him. He was of the time +when a love intrigue was a necessary part of a man's life, and not +infrequently of a woman's too.</p> + +<p>Successful lover though he had been he was not all conquering. The +ballad singer's tender liquid tones carried his memory back to the +low-born girl with the laughing eyes who had captured his heart. She +sold oranges about the door of the Court of Requests, she sang ballads +in the street, she was a little better than a light of love, yet +Bolingbroke could never claim her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> as his own. It angered him sorely +that she had a smile for others. But he bore her no malice, or he would +hardly have written his poetical tribute commencing:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"Dear, thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend,</div> +<div>Believe for once the lover and the friend."</div> +</div></div> + +<p>So Gay's words were unheeded. A heavy step sounded on the sanded floor. +A big man with features formed on an ample mould had entered. Gay was +entranced by the singer and did not hear him. The newcomer stood +silently behind the poet. He too, was listening intently.</p> + +<p>The girl's voice died into a cadence. Gay beckoned to her and she came +up to the window.</p> + +<p>"Finely sung, Polly," cried Gay. "Who taught thee, child?"</p> + +<p>"I taught myself, sir," said she dropping a curtsey.</p> + +<p>"Then you had a good teacher. There's a crown for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh sir ... it's too much."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Polly—if your name isn't Polly it ought to be. What does your +mother call you?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly an idle slut, sir."</p> + +<p>Her face remained unmoved save her eyes, which danced with sly +merriment.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<p>The men at the window burst into a roar of laughter. He who had entered +last laughed the loudest and deepest, and loud and deep as was that +laugh it was full of music. At its sound Gay turned sharply.</p> + +<p>"What? Dick Leveridge? You've come at the right moment. We need someone +who knows good music when he hears it. What of this pretty child's +voice. Is it good?"</p> + +<p>"Is it good? I'll answer your question, Mr. Gay, by asking you another. +Are you good at verses?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Tis said my 'Fables' will be pretty well. The young Prince William +will have the dedication of it and if his mother, the Princess of Wales +approves, methinks my fortune's made," cried Gay buoyantly.</p> + +<p>"Glad to hear it," replied Leveridge, dryly. "If I know anything about +His Royal Highness you'll gain a fortune sooner by writing a ballad or +two for this pretty songster. Make her famous as you made me with 'All +in the Downs' and 'T'was when the seas were roaring.'"</p> + +<p>Gay's face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Faith, Dick, you've set my brain working. I'll think on't, but that +means I must keep my eye on the wench."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll trust you for that," rejoined Leveridge, the ghost of a smile +flitting across his solemn visage.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the girl had retreated a yard or two from the window, her gaze +fixed wistfully on Gay and Leveridge. She knew from their looks that she +was the subject of their talk.</p> + +<p>Gay turned from his friend Richard Leveridge, the great bass singer of +the day, and rested his hands on the window sill. Bolingbroke had sunk +into his chair, and buried in his thoughts, was slowly sipping his wine. +Lancelot Vane continued to breathe heavily.</p> + +<p>"Come here, child," said Gay through the open window and sinking his +voice. The crowd had pressed round her and were clamourous for her to +sing again. Some had thrown her a few pence for which a couple of +urchins were groping on the ground.</p> + +<p>The girl approached.</p> + +<p>"Now Polly——"</p> + +<p>"My name's Lavinia—Lavinia Fenton, sir," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Too fine—too fine. I like Polly better. Never mind. If it's Lavinia, +Lavinia it must be. What's your mother? Where does she live?"</p> + +<p>"At the coffee house in Bedfordbury."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Does she keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And what do <i>you</i> do?"</p> + +<p>"Wait on the customers—sometimes."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes you sing in the streets—round the taverns, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Only when mother drives me out."</p> + +<p>"Oh. She ill treats you, does she? That bruise on your shoulder—was it +her work?"</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't mind if you left your mother and did nothing but sing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that would be joy," cried the girl squeezing her hands tightly +together to stifle her emotions. "But how can I?"</p> + +<p>"It may be managed, perhaps. I must see your mother——"</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by a deafening roar—hoarse, shrill, raucous, +unmistakably drunken. A huge, ragged multitude had poured into the High +Street from St. Martin's Lane, jostling, fighting, cursing, eager for +devilment, no matter what. They rushed to the hostelries, they +surrounded the street sellers of gin, demanding the fiery poisonous +stuff for which they had no intention of paying.</p> + +<p>The landlord of the "Maiden Head" hurried into the room somewhat +perturbed.</p> + +<p>"Best shut the window, gentlemen," said he. "This vile scum's none too +nice. Anything it wants it'll take without so much as by your leave, or +with your leave."</p> + +<p>"What does it mean, landlord?" asked Bolingbroke.</p> + +<p>"Oh's all over Jack Sheppard. The people are mad about the rascal just +because the turnkeys couldn't hold him, nor prison walls for the matter +o' that. He was clever in slipping out o' prison I grant ye. Well, sirs, +his body was to be handed over to the surgeons like the rest o' the +Tyburn gentry, but his friends would have none of it. A bailiff somehow +got hold of the corpse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> to make money out of it—trust them sharks for +<i>that</i> when they see a chance—an' smuggled it to his house in Long +Acre. It got wind afore many hours was past and the mob broke into the +place, the Foot Guards was called out an' there's been no end of a +rumpus."</p> + +<p>"Faith, my poor Gay," said Bolingbroke with a sardonic smile, "the +people make more fuss over a burglar than over a ballad maker. And +what's become of the noble Sheppard's body, landlord?"</p> + +<p>"It's hidden somewhere. They say as it'll be buried to-night in St. +Martin's Churchyard. So the people'll get their way after all."</p> + +<p>"As they mostly do if they make noise enough," rejoined Bolingbroke +refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your honour, and——"</p> + +<p>The sound of a loud high pitched, strident voice floated into the room +through the open window. Gay, whose eyes had never shifted from the girl +outside, saw her cheeks suddenly blanch. She looked round hurriedly like +a frightened rabbit seeking a way of escape.</p> + +<p>"Bring the girl in, landlord," exclaimed the poet hastily. "She'll come +to harm else. Lord! Look at those drunken beasts. No—no"—the landlord +was about to shut the latticed windows—"run to the door, child. Quick."</p> + +<p>A howling sottish mob mad with drink, clamouring, gesticulating, men and +women jostling each other, embracing vulgarly, their eyes glassy, their +faces flushed, was approaching the inn.</p> + +<p>The mob was headed by a handsome woman. She was in the plenitude of +fleshly charms. Her dress, disordered, showed her round solidly built +shoulders, her ample bust. Some day unless her tastes and her manner of +life altered she would end in a bloway drab, every vestige of beauty +gone in masses of fat. But at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> moment she was the model of a +reckless Bacchante, born for the amusement and aggravation of man.</p> + +<p>Her maddening eyes were directed on the Maiden Head inn. Her full lips +were parted in a harsh boisterous laugh; her white teeth gleamed; the +blood ran riot in her veins; she was the embodiment of exuberant, +semi-savage, animal life. She danced up to the open window. The sight of +the sleeping Lance Vane had drawn her thither.</p> + +<p>Up to that moment Lavinia Fenton's back was towards the woman. Lavinia +tried to get away without notice, but the Bacchante's escort was too +numerous, too aggressive, too closely packed. They hoped for some fun +after their own tastes.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me," muttered Gay apprehensively, "that impudent hussy, Sally +Salisbury. And drunk too. This means trouble. Dick," he whispered +hurriedly to Leveridge, "you can use your fists if need be. I've seen +you have a set-to in Figg's boxing shed. That girl's in danger. Sally's +bent on mischief. There's murder in her eyes. Come with me."</p> + +<p>Leveridge nodded and followed his friend out of the room.</p> + +<p>Gay's action was none too prompt. No sooner had Sally +Salisbury—destined to be, a few years later, the most notorious woman +of her class—set eyes on the girl than her brows were knitted and her +lips and nostrils went white. Her cheeks on the other hand blazed with +fury. She gripped the shrinking girl and twisted her round. Then she +thrust her face within a few inches of Lavinia's.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by coming here, you squalling trollop?" she screamed. +"How dare you poach on my ground, you——"</p> + +<p>How Sally finished the sentence can be very well left to take care of +itself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lavinia despite her terror of the beautiful virago never lost her +self-control.</p> + +<p>"You're welcome to this ground every inch of it, but I suppose I've as +much right to walk on it as you have," said she.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me, you little trull, or you'll drive me to tear your +eyes out. Take that."</p> + +<p>With the back of her disengaged hand she struck the girl's cheek.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h4>"GO YOUR OWN WAY YOU UNGRATEFUL MINX"</h4> + + +<p>The mob roared approval at the prospect of a fight, and though the +combatants were unfairly matched some of the ruffians urged the girl to +retaliate.</p> + +<p>"Go for her hair, little un," one shouted. "There's plenty of it. Once +you get a fair hold and tear out a handful she'll squeak, I'll warrant."</p> + +<p>The advice was not taken and maybe nobody expected it would be. Anyway, +before Sally could renew the attack her arm was seized by a man, slight +in stature and with a naturally humorous expression on his lean narrow +face and in his bright twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Enough of this brawling, mistress. If you <i>must</i> fight choose someone +as big and as strong as yourself, not a lambkin."</p> + +<p>The crowd knew him and whispers went round. "That's Spiller—Jemmy +Spiller the famous play actor." "No, is it though. Lord, he can make +folks laugh—ah, split their sides a'most. I see him last Saturday at +Master<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Rich's theayter in the Fields, and I thought I should ha' died."</p> + +<p>Spiller was better at making people laugh than at holding an infuriated +woman. But he had two friends with him, stalwart butchers from Clare +Market, and he turned the task over to them with the remark that they +were used to handling mad cattle.</p> + +<p>At this point Gay and Leveridge forced their way through the crowd. Gay +saw the red angry mark on the girl's pallid face and guessed the cause. +He drew her gently to him.</p> + +<p>"Run inside the house. I'll join you presently," he whispered.</p> + +<p>She thanked him with her eyes and vanished. Gay turned to Spiller.</p> + +<p>"You deserve a double benefit at Drury Lane, Jemmy, for what you did +just now. That wild cat was about to use her claws," said he.</p> + +<p>"Aye, and her teeth too, Mr. Gay."</p> + +<p>"You'll need a mouthful of mountain port after that tussle. And your +friends as well, when they've disposed of Mistress Salisbury."</p> + +<p>The butchers had removed her out of harm's way. Some of her lady friends +and sympathisers had joined her; and a couple of young "bloods" who had +come to see the fun of an execution, with money burning holes in their +pockets, being captured, the party subsided into the "Bowl" where a +bottle of wine washed away the remembrance of Sally Salisbury's +grievance. But she vowed vengeance on the "squalling chit" sooner or +later.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the object of Sally Salisbury's hoped for revenge was sitting +in a dark corner of the coffee room of the Maiden Head tavern. She felt +terribly embarrassed and answered Bolingbroke's compliments in +monosyllables. He pressed her to take some wine but she refused. To her +great relief he did not trouble her with attentions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Gay entering with Spiller and his butcher friends, and Leveridge, +as soon as he could, approached her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Polly,—my tongue refuses to say Lavinia—how you have +offended that vulgar passionate woman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Jealousy, I suppose. She's burning to sing but she can't. +Sing, why she sets one's teeth on edge! It might be the sharpening of a +knife on a grindstone. She would be a play actress, and Mrs. Barry at +Drury Lane promised to help her, but they quarrelled. Sally wanted to be +a great actress all at once, but you can't be, can you, sir?"</p> + +<p>She looked at the poet earnestly. Her large grey eyes were wonderfully +expressive, and Gay did not at once answer. He was thinking how sweet +was the face, and how musical and appealing the voice.</p> + +<p>"True, child, and that you should say it shows your good sense. Wait +here a few minutes and then you shall take me to your mother."</p> + +<p>Gay crossed the room to his friends, and they talked together in low +voices. Spiller and Leveridge had much to say—indeed it was to these +two, who had practical knowledge of the theatre, to whom he appealed. +Bolingbroke sat silently listening.</p> + +<p>Gay's project concerning his new found protégée was such as would only +have entered into the brain of a dreamy and impecunious poet. He saw in +Lavinia Fenton the making of a fine actress—not in tragedy but in +comedy—and of an enchanting singer. But to be proficient she must be +taught not only music, but how to pronounce the English language +properly. She had to a certain extent picked up the accent of the +vulgar. It was impossible, considering her surroundings and +associations, to be otherwise. But proper treatment and proper +companions would soon rid her of this defect.</p> + +<p>Both Spiller and Leveridge agreed she was fitted for the stage. But how +was she to be educated? And what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> was the use of education while she was +living in a Bedfordbury coffee house!</p> + +<p>"She must be sent to a boarding school and be among gentlefolk," +declared Gay energetically.</p> + +<p>"Excellent," said Bolingbroke, speaking for the first time, "and may I +ask who will pay for the inestimable privilege of placing her among the +quality?"</p> + +<p>The irony in St. John's voice did not go unnoticed by Gay, but he +continued bravely.</p> + +<p>"I will, if her mother won't."</p> + +<p>"You? My good friend, you can scarce keep yourself. But 'tis like you to +add to the burden of debt round your neck rather than reduce it. Have +you been left a fortune? Have your dead South Sea Shares come back to +life?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Bolingbroke, don't remind me of my folly," rejoined Gay, a little +piqued. "We can't always be wise. Thou thyself—but let that pass, the +future is the foundation of hope. Before long I shall be in funds. The +'Fables' will be in the booksellers' hands ere the month is out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's well. But the booksellers, though eager enough to sell their +wares, are not so ready to pay the writer his due. Moreover if I know +anything of John Gay, of a certainty all the money he puts in his pocket +will go out of the hole at the other end."</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," rejoined the poet hastily. "But I'm not thinking alone +of the booksellers. It is a 'place' I shall have and an annual income +that will sweep away all my anxieties."</p> + +<p>"Then you're in favour with the Princess and her obedient servant Sir +Robert—or is Walpole her master? What will the Dean of St. Patrick and +Mr. Pope say to your surrender?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I will never write a word in praise of either. There's not a +word in the 'Fables' that can be twisted into bolstering up the +Government."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you think to receive your comfortable 'place' out of pure +admiration of your poetical gifts? My poor Gay!"</p> + +<p>"No. Friendship."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, you must go your own way or you wouldn't be a poet. I leave +you to your commendable work of rescuing damsels in distress."</p> + +<p>And after refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff Bolingbroke with a +wave of the hand to Gay and his friends strode from the room leaving the +poet with his pleasant face somewhat overcast.</p> + +<p>But his chagrin did not last long. His natural buoyancy asserted itself +and he beckoned to Lavinia who was sitting primly on the edge of the +hard chair, her folded hands resting on her lap. Before she could cross +the room Spiller and Leveridge took up Bolingbroke's argument, and urged +Gay not to meddle further in the matter.</p> + +<p>"Nay, why should I not? It would be a shame and a pity that so much good +talent should be wasted on the groundlings of St. Giles. Besides, there +is the girl herself," Gay lowered his voice. "You wouldn't have her be +like Sally Salisbury, Jemmy, would you? She has a good and innocent +nature. It will be torn to tatters if she be not looked after now. No. +Neither you nor Dick Leveridge will talk me out of my intent. Do you see +what misguided youth may easily come to? Look at your friend Vane."</p> + +<p>Gay pointed to the sleeping young man.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know. The young fool," returned Spiller a little angrily. +"Wine is Lancelot Vane's only weakness—well, not the only one, any +pretty face turns his head."</p> + +<p>"He's not the worse for that provided a good heart goes with the pretty +face."</p> + +<p>"Aye, <i>if</i>."</p> + +<p>"Look after him then. When he awakens from his drunken fit he'll be like +clay in the hands of the potters."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Faith, you're right, Mr. Gay, but there's one thing that'll protect +him—his empty purse. I doubt if he has a stiver left. I know he drew +some money from the <i>Craftsman</i> yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What, does he write for that scurrilous, venomous print?" cried Gay, +visibly disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Not of his own will. He hates the paper and he hates Amherst, who owns +it. But what is a man to do when poverty knocks at the door?"</p> + +<p>"That may be. Still—I wish he had nothing to do with that abusive +fellow, Nicholas Amherst, who calls himself 'Caleb D'Anvers,' why I know +not, unless he's ashamed of the name his father gave him. Do you know +that the <i>Craftsman</i> is always attacking my friends, Mr. Pope, Dr. +Swift, Dr. Arbuthnot? As for myself—but that's no matter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Amherst's a gadfly, no doubt. But your friends can take care of +themselves. For every blow they get they can if it so pleases them, give +two in return."</p> + +<p>"That's true, and I'll say nothing more. I wish your friend well rid of +the rascally D'Anvers. Look after him, Jemmy. Come Polly—let us to your +mother."</p> + +<p>Both Spiller and Leveridge saw that Gay was not to be turned from his +resolution to help the girl, and presently she and her new found friend +were threading their way through a network of courts and alleys finally +emerging into the squalid thoroughfare between New Street and Chandos +Street.</p> + +<p>The dirt and the poverty-stricken aspect of the locality did not deter +the poet from his intention. Bedfordbury was not worse than St. Giles. +The girl led him to a shabby coffee shop from the interior of which +issued a hot and sickly air.</p> + +<p>"That's mother," she whispered when they were in the doorway.</p> + +<p>A buxom woman not too neatly dressed, whose apron<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> bore traces of +miscellaneous kitchen work, scowled when her eyes lighted on her +daughter.</p> + +<p>"So you've come home, you lazy good-for-nothing hussy," she screamed. +"Where have you been? You don't care how hard I have to work so long as +you can go a pleasuring. There's plenty for you to do here. Set about +washing these plates if you don't want a trouncing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton was in a vile temper and Gay's heart somewhat failed at the +sight of her. Then he glanced at the girl and her frightened face gave +him courage.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said he advancing with a polite bow, "I should like with your +permission to have a few words with you in private. My business here +concerns your daughter in whom I take an interest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and who may you be?" asked the woman ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"My name is Gay—John Gay—but I'll tell you more when we're alone."</p> + +<p>He cast a look around at the rough Covent Garden porters with which the +place was fairly full. One of the boxes was empty and Mrs. Fenton +pointed to it, at the same time ordering her daughter to go into the +kitchen and make herself useful. Then she flopped down opposite Gay, +separated from him by a table marked by innumerable rings left by coffee +mugs.</p> + +<p>Gay put forward his ideas and painted a glorious future for Lavinia. Her +mother did not seem particularly impressed. It was doubtful indeed if +she believed him.</p> + +<p>"You'll find the wench a handful. She's been no good to me. I'd as lieve +let her go her own way as keep her. A young 'oman with a pretty face +hasn't got no need to trouble about getting a living. Sooner or later +she'll give me the slip—but—well—if you takes her and makes a lady of +her what do I get out of it?"</p> + +<p>This was a view of the matter which had not occurred to the poet. He +felt decidedly embarrassed. His pro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>ject appeared to be more costly than +he had at first imagined.</p> + +<p>"It is for the benefit of your daughter," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Her benefit, indeed. Fiddle-de-dee! Your own you mean. I know what men +are. If she was an ugly slut you wouldn't take no notice of her. Don't +talk rubbish. What are you a going to give me for saying, yes. That's +business, mister. Come, how much?"</p> + +<p>The poet saw there was no other way but talking business. This +embarrassed him still more for he was the last man qualified to act in +such a capacity.</p> + +<p>"I'll see what I can do," said he nervously, "but you mustn't forget +that Lavinia will have to be quite two years at school, and there is her +music master——"</p> + +<p>"Oh I dare say," rejoined the lady scoffingly, "and the mantle maker, +and the milliner, and the glover, and the hairdresser. That's your +affair, not mine. Name a round sum and I'll try to meet you. What d'ye +say?"</p> + +<p>"Would five guineas——?"</p> + +<p>"What!" shrieked Lavinia's mother. "And you call yourself a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"The sum I admit is a small one, but as you seemed anxious to get your +daughter off your hands I thought I was doing you a service by putting +the girl in a way to earn a good living."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. I'm not to be taken in like that. Fine words butter no +parsnips. While Lavinia's in the house I'll go bail I'll make her work. +If she goes away I've got to pay someone in her place, haven't I? Twenty +guineas is the very lowest I'll take, and if you was anything like the +gentleman you look you'd make it double."</p> + +<p>The haggling over such a matter and the coarse mercenary nature of the +woman jarred upon the poet's sensitive soul. The plain fact that he +hadn't got twenty guineas in the world could not be gainsaid. But he had +rich friends. If he could only interest them in this protégée<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> of his +something might be done. And there were the "Fables."</p> + +<p>"Twenty guineas," he repeated. "Well, I'll do my best. In two days' +time, Mrs. Fenton, I will come and see you and most likely all will be +settled to your satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"Two days. Aye. No longer or maybe my price'll go up."</p> + +<p>"I shall not fail. Now, Mrs. Fenton, before I go I'd like to see Lavinia +once more."</p> + +<p>"No, this business is between you an' me, mister. The hussy's naught to +do with it. She'll have to behave herself while she's with me. That's +all I have to say about <i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>So Gay rose and walked out of the box feeling as though he'd been +through a severe drubbing. He might have been sufficiently disheartened +to shatter his castle in the air had he not seen Lavinia's big sorrowful +eyes fixed upon him from the kitchen. He dared not disobey her mother's +behest not to speak to her so he tried to smile encouragingly, and to +intimate by his expression that all was going well. Whether he succeeded +in so doing he was by no means sure.</p> + +<p>On leaving the coffee house Gay walked towards Charing Cross and thence +along the Haymarket to Piccadilly. His destination was Queensberry House +to the north of Burlington Gardens. Here lived Gay's good friends the +Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, and indeed Gay himself, save when he +was at Twickenham with Pope.</p> + +<p>At dinner that evening Gay broached the subject of the phenomenal singer +whom he had discovered in the streets of St. Giles and his scheme +concerning her. The duke laughed at the poet's visions, but the duchess +was fascinated. Anything of the unusual at once appealed to the +warmhearted, impulsive, somewhat eccentric, lady. Her enthusiasm where +she was interested always carried her away, and her impatience and +energy would not let her rest until her object was accomplished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would vastly like to hear Mr. Gay's pretty nightingale. You must +bring her to-morrow. I am dying to see if she is really the wonder you +pretend she is. You know that the best judge of a woman is another +woman. A man is apt to be partial."</p> + +<p>"And a woman to be prejudiced," said Gay smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Faith, Kitty," laughed the duke, "our poet has thee there."</p> + +<p>"I deny it. But we will discuss the question after we've seen the +paragon. When shall she come?"</p> + +<p>Gay for once was shrewd.</p> + +<p>"Not until we've settled with the mother. She's a harpy. If she knows +that your grace has anything to do with the affair she'll double her +price."</p> + +<p>"Why, our Gay is teaching us something," said the Duke banteringly. "He +is giving us a lesson in financial economy. Duchess, you must keep your +eye on the next post vacant in the Exchequer."</p> + +<p>"Pish!" retorted her grace. "Mr. Gay is only exercising commonsense. We +all of us have a little of that commodity. If we could only have it +handy when it's wanted how much better the world would be."</p> + +<p>Neither of the men disputed the lady's proposition, and the duchess +rising, left them to their wine.</p> + +<p>Armed with the twenty guineas, Gay presented himself the following day +at the Bedfordbury coffee house. Mrs. Fenton was still ungracious, but +the sight of the little pile of gold and the chink of the coins +mollified her humour.</p> + +<p>"Where and when are you going to take her?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Gay had arranged a plan with the duchess and he replied promptly.</p> + +<p>"She will stay here for a few days while her wardrobe is being got +ready, then she is to go to Miss Pinwell's boarding school in Queen +Square."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Carry me out and bury me decent," ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "Then I'm to +be the mother of a fine lady, am I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that, but a clever one if I'm not mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Clever! Oh la! Much good will her cleverness do her. Clever! Aye in +always having a crowd o' sparks a dangling after her. That Miss +What's-her-name in Queen Square'll have to get up early to best Lavinia +when there's a man about."</p> + +<p>"A mother shouldn't say such ill-natured things of her own child," said +Gay reprovingly. "She's hardly a woman yet."</p> + +<p>"But she knows as much. Well, you've got your bargain. Make your best of +it. What about her clothes? She's but a rag-bag though it's no fault o' +mine. Pray who's going to buy her gowns, her hats, her petticoats, her +laces and frills. You?"</p> + +<p>"I? Bless me! no, woman. I know nothing about such things," rejoined Gay +colouring slightly. "I will send a woman who understands the business."</p> + +<p>"It's all one to me. Maybe you'd better tell your tale to Lavinia with +your own lips. I've done with her."</p> + +<p>"By all means. I should like to see her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton, whose eyes all the while had been gloating over the gold on +the table now swept it into her pocket. It was a windfall which had come +at the right moment. She was tired of Bedfordbury. She aimed at a step +higher. There was a coffee house business in the Old Bailey going cheap, +the twenty pounds would enable her to buy it.</p> + +<p>As for her daughter, she had no scruple about letting her go with a man +who was quite a stranger. The girl's future didn't trouble her. Since +Lavinia had entered her teens, mother and daughter had wrangled +incessantly. Lavinia was amiable enough, but constant snubbing had +roused a spirit which guided her according to her moods. Sometimes she +was full of defiance, at others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> she would run out of the house, and +ramble about the streets until she was dead tired.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was shrewd enough to discover why her mother did not want her at +home. Mrs. Fenton, still good-looking, was not averse to flirting with +the more presentable of her customers, and as Lavinia developed into +womanhood she became a serious rival to her mother, so on the whole, +Gay's proposition suited Mrs. Fenton admirably, and she certainly never +bothered to find out if he spoke the truth. She was not inclined to +accept his story of the boarding school as a stepping-stone to the +stage, but to pretend to believe it in a way quieted what little +conscience she possessed. If the scheme turned out badly, why, no one +could say <i>she</i> was to blame.</p> + +<p>Lavinia, tremulous with excitement and looking prettier than ever, came +into the room where the poet was awaiting her. Her face fell when Gay +talked about the boarding school and of the possibility of her having to +remain there a long time, but she brightened up on his going on to say +that the period might be considerably shortened if she made a rapid +improvement.</p> + +<p>"And do you really think, sir, I shall ever be good enough to act in a +theatre like Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Oldfield, and—oh, and Mrs. +Bracegurdle?" cried the girl, her eyes blazing with anxious ambition.</p> + +<p>"I don't say you'll act like them. You'll act in your own way, and if +you work hard your own way will be good enough. If you succeed the +friends who are now helping you will be more than rewarded."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I will do anything to please you, sir."</p> + +<p>She caught his hand and impulsively raised it to her lips.</p> + +<p>Gay was a little embarrassed at this outburst. Did it mean that the girl +had fallen in love with him? He checked the rising thought. Yet there +was nothing outrageous in such a possibility. Lavinia was only six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>teen, +it is true, and romantic sixteen might see nothing incongruous in +thirty-seven, which was Gay's age.</p> + +<p>"What pleases me, child, doesn't matter," he returned hastily. "I want +to see you please others—in the play house I mean."</p> + +<p>She looked at him wistfully.</p> + +<p>"But," he continued, "it will be time enough to talk of that when I see +how you get on. Now is it all settled? You're leaving this place and +your mother of your own free will—isn't that so?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia said nothing, but pinched her lips and nodded her head +vigorously. The action was sufficiently expressive and Gay was +satisfied.</p> + +<p>Three days went by. Her Grace of Queensberry's maid, a hard-faced +Scotswoman who was not to be intimidated nor betrayed into confidences, +superintended Lavinia's shopping and turned a deaf ear to Mrs. Fenton's +scoffs and innuendoes.</p> + +<p>The girl was transformed. Her new gowns, hats, aprons, and what not sent +her into high spirits and she bade her mother adieu with a light heart.</p> + +<p>"Go your own way, you ungrateful minx," was Mrs. Fenton's parting shot, +"and when you're tired of your fine gentleman or he's tired of you, +don't think you're coming back here 'cause I won't have you."</p> + +<p>Lavinia smiled triumphantly and tripped into the hackney coach that was +awaiting her.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h4>"OH, MISTRESS MINE, WHERE ART THOU ROAMING?"</h4> + +<p>"Lavina! Have done!"</p> + +<p>It was a whispered entreaty. The victim of the feather of a quill pen +tickling her neck dared not raise her voice. Miss Pinwell, the +proprietress of the extremely genteel seminary for young ladies, Queen +Square—quite an aristocratic retreat some two hundred years ago—was +pacing the school-room. Her cold, sharp eyes roamed over the shapely +heads—black, golden, brown, auburn, flaxen—of some thirty girls—eager +to detect any sign of levity and prompt to inflict summary punishment.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fenton, why are you not working?" came the inquiry sharply from +Miss Pinwell's thin lips.</p> + +<p>Lavinia Fenton withdrew the instrument of torture and Priscilla +Coupland's neck was left in peace. It was done so swiftly that Miss +Pinwell's glance, keen as it was, never detected the movement. But the +lady had her suspicions nevertheless, and she marched with the erectness +of a grenadier to where Lavinia Fenton sat with her eyes fixed upon her +copy book, apparently absorbed in inscribing over and over again the +moral maxim at the top of the page, and, it may be hoped, engrafting it +on her mind.</p> + +<p>The young lady's industry did not deceive Miss Pinwell. Lavinia Fenton +was the black sheep—lamb perhaps is a more fitting word, she was but +seventeen—of the school. But somehow her peccadilloes were always +forgiven. She had a smile against which severity—even Miss +Pinwell's—was powerless.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What were you doing just now when you were not writing?"</p> + +<p>The head was slowly raised. The wealth of wavy brown hair fell back from +the broad smooth brow. The large limpid imploring eyes looked straight, +without a trace of guilt in them, at the thin-faced schoolmistress. The +beautiful mouth, the upper lip of which with its corners slightly +upturned was delightfully suggestive of a smile, quivered slightly but +not with fear, rather with suppressed amusement.</p> + +<p>"Nothing madam," was the demure reply.</p> + +<p>"Nothing? I don't believe you. Your hand was not on your book. Where was +it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that</i>. Yes, a wasp was flying near us. I thought it was going to +settle on Priscilla Coupland's neck and I brushed it away with my pen."</p> + +<p>Miss Pinwell could say nothing to this, especially as she distinctly +heard at that moment the hum of some winged insect. It <i>was</i> a wasp, a +real one, not the insect of Lavinia's fervid imagination. The windows +were open and it had found its way in from Lamb's Conduit Fields, at a +happy moment allying itself with Lavinia.</p> + +<p>Others heard it as well and sprang to their feet shrieking. The chance +of escaping from tiresome moral maxims was too good to be lost.</p> + +<p>"Young ladies——" commanded Miss Pinwell, but she could get no further. +Her voice was lost in the din. The lady no more loved wasps than did her +pupils. She retreated as the wasp advanced. The intruder ranged itself +on the side of the girls and circled towards their instructress with +malevolence in every turn and vicious intent in its buzz.</p> + +<p>The only one not afraid was Lavinia Fenton who, waving a pocket +handkerchief met the foe bravely but without success. The enemy refused +to turn tail. Other girls plucking up courage joined the champion and +soon the school-room was in a hubbub. Probably the army of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> hoydenish +maidens were not anxious the conflict should cease—it was far more +entertaining than maxims, arithmetic and working texts on samples—and +Miss Pinwell seeing this, summoned Bridget, the brawny housemaid, who +with a canvas apron finally caught and squashed the rash intruder.</p> + +<p>It was sometime before the excitement died down, and meanwhile Lavinia +Fenton's remissness of conduct was forgotten—indeed her intrepidity +singled her out for praise, which she received with becoming +graciousness.</p> + +<p>But before the day was out she relapsed into her bad ways. She could or +would do nothing right. Miss Pinwell chided her for carelessness, she +retorted saucily. As discipline had to be maintained she was at last +condemned to an hour with the backboard and there she sat in a corner of +the room on a high legged chair with a small and extremely uncomfortable +oval seat made still more uncomfortable by it sloping slightly forward. +As for the back, it was high and narrow. It afforded no rest for the +spine. The delinquent was compelled to sit perfectly upright. Thus it +was at the same time an instrument of correction and of deportment.</p> + +<p>Whatever bodily defects the early Georgian damsels possessed they +certainly had straight backs and level shoulders. The backboard was +admirable training for the carriage of the stately sacque, the graceful +flirting of the fan and for the dancing of the grave and dignified +minuet.</p> + +<p>The day was nearing its end. The hour for retiring was early, and at +dusk the head of each bedroom took her candle from the hall table and +after a low curtsy to the mistress of the establishment preceded those +who slept in the same room up the broad staircase. The maidens' +behaviour was highly decorous until they were safe in their respective +bed-chambers, when their tongues were unloosed.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough Lavinia, who was usually full of chatter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> had to-night +little to say. Her schoolmates rallied her on her silent tongue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't bother me, Priscilla," she exclaimed pettishly. "I suppose I +can do as I like when Miss Pinwell isn't looking."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you generally do that when she <i>is</i>. I never saw such +favouritism. I declare it's not fair. You were terribly tormenting all +day. Anybody but you would have been sent to bed and kept on bread and +water. What's the matter with you, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I'm tired, that's all."</p> + +<p>"First time in your life then. You were lively enough this afternoon +when you nearly got me into a scrape trying to make me laugh with your +tickling. It was as much as I could do to keep from screaming," +exclaimed Priscilla angrily.</p> + +<p>"Well, you can do your screaming now if it pleases you, so long as it +doesn't bring Miss Pinwell upstairs. Let me alone. I'm thinking about +something."</p> + +<p>"Some <i>one</i>, my dear, you mean," put in a tall fair girl, Grace Armitage +by name. "Confess now, isn't it the new curate at St. George's? He +seemed to have no eyes for any one but you last Sunday evening. How +cruel to disturb the poor man's thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Console yourself, Grace dear—<i>you're</i> never likely to do that."</p> + +<p>The girls tittered at Lavinia's repartee. All knew that Grace Armitage +was the vainest of the vain and believed every man who cast his eyes in +her direction was in love with her. She went white with anger. But she +was slow witted. She had no sarcastic rejoinder ready and if she had it +was doubtful if she would have uttered it. Lavinia Fenton, the soul of +sweetness and amiability, could show resolute fight when roused. Miss +Armitage turned away with a disdainful toss of her head.</p> + +<p>The others knew this too, for they ceased to irritate Lavinia and +continued their talk among themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> All the same, the principal +topic was Lavinia Fenton. She was so strangely unlike herself to-night.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the room was in silence save for the whispering +between the occupants of those beds sufficiently close to each other to +permit this luxury. When the neighbouring clock of St. George's, +Bloomsbury, chimed half-past nine even these subdued sounds had ceased.</p> + +<p>At half-past ten the moon was at the full. The pale light streamed +through the small window panes and threw the shadows of the broad +framework lattice-wise on Lavinia's bed which was next the window. In +daylight she had but to lie on her right side and she could see across +the fields and the rising ground each side of the Fleet river to the +villages of Islington and Hornsey.</p> + +<p>Gradually the latticed shadow crept upwards. It at last reached +Lavinia's face. She was not asleep. Her eyes very wide open were staring +at the ceiling with a vague, wistful expression. She gave a long sigh, +her body twisted, and leaning on her right elbow, her left hand +insinuated itself beneath the pillow and drew forth a letter which she +held in the moonlight and read. Her forehead puckered as though she were +in doubt. Her steadfast eyes seemed to contradict the smile curving her +upper lip. The paper slipped from her limp fingers and she pondered, her +colour deepening the while. Nothing short of a love letter could have +caused that delightful blush. What she read was this:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dearest Little Charmer</span>,—</p> + +<p>"My soul is full of expectancy. I can think of nothing but you—the +divinest being that ever tortured the heart of man. But the torture +is exquisite because I know when I fold you in my arms it will +change to bliss. You will keep your promise and meet me at the +'Conduit Head' to-morrow midnight, will you not? I can scarce +contain myself with thinking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> of it. If you come not what remains +for me but death? Without you life is worthless. Come. My coach +will be in readiness and the parson waiting for us at the Fleet.</p> + +<p>"When we are married, as I've told you, my family cannot refuse to +receive my wife, but until we are made one they will do all they +can to keep us apart. My father insists upon my marrying a rich +city madam, but I'll none of her. I will only have you, my +beauteous Lavinia. I swear to you by all the gods that you shall be +back at school before dawn, as on the night of the dance when I +first saw my adorable divinity. No one will know but us two. It +will be a delicious secret. After I have seen you safely to Queen +Square and have parted from my dearest—it will be misery to bid +thee adieu—I shall ride post haste to my father and tell him +everything. He will at first be angry, but he will relent when he +sees your loveliness. We shall be forgiven and Heaven will be ours.</p> + +<p>"Panting with impatience, ever your most devoted humble servant,</p> + +<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Archibald Dorrimore</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Present taste would pronounce this effusion to be extravagant, +rhapsodical, high-flown, super-sentimental, but it did not read so to +Lavinia. It was in the fashion of the times—indeed it approached nearer +modern ideas than the majority of love letters of that day which +generally began with "Madam" without any endearing prefix. Lavinia liked +it none the less because it was not so formal as the letters which some +girls had shown her in all pride and secrecy.</p> + +<p>But it troubled her all the same.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I really—really love him," she mused. "I suppose I do or I +shouldn't be continually thinking about him. But to be married—oh, +that's a different thing. Perhaps he'd want to live in the country. +That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> would be horribly dull, especially if he had to come to London +often. He hopes to be a great lawyer some day he says. I don't think I'd +like him in a wig and gown and white bands. He would look so horribly +old. Oh, but I wouldn't let him have his rooms in the Temple after we're +married. He'll have to burn his musty old books. He won't need them. His +father's very rich. He's told me so hundreds of times."</p> + +<p>A half dozen times would have been nearer the mark and this would +probably represent the number of their meetings, once at a ball at +Sadler's Wells Gardens and afterwards at stolen opportunities which the +ingenious Lavinia contrived to bring about.</p> + +<p>To tell the honest truth, Lavinia's gallant Archibald Dorrimore, the +young Templar, served only to amuse the young lady. She was not blind to +the fact that he was a fop and not blessed with too much brain. She had +seen many of his sort before and did not trust them. But Dorrimore +struck her as more sincere than the rest. Besides, he was very good +looking.</p> + +<p>Lavinia couldn't help having admirers. Nature should not have endowed +her with such alluring, innocent looking eyes, with so sweet a mouth. +She had always had some infatuated young man hovering about her even +when she was her mother's drudge at the coffee house in Bedfordbury. +Perhaps she inherited flirting from that buxom, good-looking mother who +had the reputation of knowing her way quite well where a man was +concerned.</p> + +<p>"Archibald Dorrimore will be <i>Sir</i> Archibald some day," she mused. "It +would be rare to be called her ladyship. I can hear the footman saying: +'Your coach is waiting, my lady.' Lady Dorrimore—how well it sounds! +Archibald loves me...."</p> + +<p>May be this conviction settled the matter. The girl slid out of bed and +dressed herself hurriedly, though eleven o'clock had only just struck +and she had plenty of time. Perhaps she thought that if she hesitated +any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> longer she might alter her mind and not be married after all.</p> + +<p>Despite her haste she was not neglectful of herself. Now and again she +glanced at the little mirror over which the girls squabbled daily, +smoothed her rebellious hair and settled the Nithsdale hood of her cloak +coquettishly. Then she noiselessly crept from the room, flitted down the +staircase and was at the hall door shooting back its heavy +bolts—fortunately always kept well greased—and lifting the massive +chain which stretched across the centre. Street doors were well guarded +and ground floor windows barred in those days, and not without reason.</p> + +<p>The moon was still shining brightly and Lavinia drew her hood closer +over her face, though there was little need, for the fields were +deserted. She turned to the east, keeping in the shadow, slight as it +was, of the school garden wall. When the "Conduit Head" at the top of +Red Lion Street (the northern end now known as Lamb's Conduit Street) +was reached she paused and her heart went pit-a-pat. If Dorrimore should +not be there!</p> + +<p>She stopped, overcome by sudden scruples. In a flash her life at the +school, its monotony and discipline, the irksomeness of regular work, +rose before her! She had been some months at Miss Pinwell's +establishment and her restless soul pined for a change. Though she +looked back to her vagabond life in the streets with a shudder, she +yearned for its freedom, but without its degradations.</p> + +<p>The step she was about to take, so she persuaded herself, meant freedom, +but it also meant ingratitude towards Gay and the duchess. For the +latter's opinion she did not care much. The imperious manner of her +grace was not to her taste. But Mr. Gay—that was a different thing. She +looked upon Gay as a father—of her own father she had but a shadowy +recollection—though sometimes she thought she detected in him signs of +a warmer affection than that which a father usually bestows on a +daughter. She did not want this. She liked his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> visits. She was glad to +have his praise. She laughed when he persisted in calling her Polly—why +she knew not—but she was sure she could never endure his making love to +her.</p> + +<p>In her heart of hearts she was afraid of this. The dread had much to do +with her encouragement of Dorrimore. Of course if she married it would +mean an estrangement between her and Gay and his powerful friends, and +most likely the end of her ambition to be a great actress. Her mind had +long been torn, and at the eleventh hour when she was on her way to meet +her fate in Dorrimore she still hesitated. If she really loved Dorrimore +there would have been no hesitation. But she had never met any man who +did more than flatter her and gratify the pleasure she felt at being +admired.</p> + +<p>Her decision was in the balance. The weight of a feather would turn the +scale one way or another. The feather came in the shape of Dorrimore +himself. There he was in three cornered hat and cloak, his powdered wig +white in the moonlight, pacing up and down, his hand resting on his +sword hilt. He caught sight of the shrinking figure in the shadow and +the hat was doffed in a profound bow. Undoubtedly a good looking young +man, but as undoubtedly a fop of the first water with his ruffles and +bosom of Mechlin lace, red heels to his shoes, gold clocks on his silk +stockings and the whiff of scent which heralded his coming.</p> + +<p>When near enough his arm went round her and he drew back her hood. He +kissed her closely, so closely indeed that his ardour almost frightened +her, though she knew not why. He withdrew his lips and gazed into her +face, his own paling under the violence of his passion.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Lavinia," he murmured. "You are the loveliest creature in the +world and I protest I am the luckiest of men. Have you no words of love +for me? Why so silent?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had not uttered a word. The rise and fall of her bosom showed her +agitation.</p> + +<p>"I'm here. I'm here. Isn't that enough?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Faith you're right, sweetheart. Then let us waste no time. My coach is +yonder."</p> + +<p>He slid her arm within his and drew her forward. He was not unconscious +of a certain reluctance in her movements and a shyness in her manner, +but he put both down to maiden modesty. Her restraint made her all the +more enchanting and he quickened his pace. She was compelled to +accommodate her steps to his, but she did so unwillingly. A sudden +distrust whether of him or of herself she could not quite determine—had +seized her. She was repenting her rashness. She would have run from him +back to the school but that he held her too tightly. Within another +minute they had reached the heavy lumbering coach.</p> + +<p>The coachman had seen them coming and descended from his box to open the +door. He was a big fellow who held himself erect like a soldier. His +swarthy complexion had a patch of purplish bloom spreading itself over +the cheek bones which told of constant tavern lounging. A pair of hawk's +eyes gleamed from under bushy beetling brows; wide loose lips and a +truculent, pugnacious lower jaw completed the picture of a ruffian.</p> + +<p>Lavinia glanced at him and that glance was enough, it deepened her +distrust into repugnance. But she had no time to protest. She was +hurried into the coach, Dorrimore in fact lifting her inside bodily with +unnecessary violence for she was almost thrown into a corner of the back +seat. Dorrimore followed, turned, shut the door and almost immediately +the carriage moved. The coachman must have sprung to his box with the +quickness of a harlequin. The whip cracked and the horses broke into a +gallop.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h4>"IF WE'RE NOT TO BE MARRIED TELL ME"</h4> + +<p>The rattle of the wheels over the loose, roughly laid cobble stones, and +the swaying carriage hung on leathers, forbade talking. Lavinia heard +her companion's voice but she did not know what he was saying. Not that +it mattered for she was in too much of a flutter to heed anything but +her own emotions, and these were so confused that they told her little.</p> + +<p>Then Dorrimore's arm stole round her waist. Well, this was not +unnatural. Would they not be soon man and wife? The puzzle was that she +had no feeling of response. She would rather that he did not embrace +her. She did not want to be noticed. Yet she could not find it in her +heart to be unkind, so she allowed him to draw her nearer, to let her +head droop on his shoulder. She tried to think it was pleasant to be so +loved and she lowered her eyelashes when he kissed her again and again.</p> + +<p>Two or three minutes of oblivion. The coach had raced down Red Lion +Street. It was in Holborn going eastwards and here the din and clatter +were heightened by the shouts of drunken roisterers. The overhanging +houses cast deep shadows and the coach was travelling in the gloom. It +was past midnight and the lamps hung at every tenth house were +extinguished. This was the rule.</p> + +<p>Then Lavinia became conscious that the carriage was going down hill. It +had passed Fetter Lane into which it should have turned and was +proceeding towards Holborn Bridge. Why was this? Fetter Lane led into +Fleet Street and so to the Fleet. Had the coachman misunderstood his +instructions? She wrenched herself free and looked out of the window. +She recognised St.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> Andrew's Church in Holborn Valley. She turned +swiftly and faced Dorrimore. The coach had crossed the bridge and had +commenced the steep ascent of Holborn Hill on the other side. The horses +had slackened their pace. The noise was less loud.</p> + +<p>"You said we were going to the Fleet, but we're not. Where are you +taking me?"</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about such a trifle, darling little one," he cried gaily. +"Aren't you with me? What more do you want? Come, kiss me. Let us forget +everything but our two selves."</p> + +<p>He would have embraced her but she repulsed him angrily.</p> + +<p>"No. If you've altered your mind—if we're not to be married tell me so, +and I'll leave you to yourself," she cried agitatedly.</p> + +<p>"Leave me? And d'you think I'll let you go when you're looking handsomer +than ever? Faith, what d'you take me for? You dear fluttering little +Venus. Why, you're trembling? But hang me, it must be with joy as I am."</p> + +<p>Both his arms were round her. She struggled to free herself; pushed his +face away and panting, strove to reach the window, but he was strong and +prevented her.</p> + +<p>"I'll go no further with you," she cried. "Set me down at once or I'll +scream for help."</p> + +<p>"You pretty little fool. Much help you'll get here. Oh, you shall look +if you want to, but your wings must be clipped first."</p> + +<p>He gripped both her wrists and held them fast. Her frightened eyes +glanced through the window. She heard a confused thud of hoofs, now and +again the deep bellowing of cattle, in the distance dogs barking, +drivers yelling. She could see horned heads moving up and down. The +coach was now moving very slowly. It was surrounded by a drove of +bullocks from the Essex marshes going to Smithfield.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You see?" laughed Dorrimore. "D'you suppose I would set you down to be +tossed and gored by vulgar cattle. Why the sight of your red ribands +would send them mad, as it's nearly sent me."</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I'd rather be with them than with you. I hate you," she +screamed with tears in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Really? I'll warrant your hate'll turn to love before we part," he +jeered. "I'm not going to see you come to harm, so I shall hold your +pretty wrists tightly. How round and slender they are! So, you're my +prisoner."</p> + +<p>"I'm not and I won't be."</p> + +<p>Somehow she dragged her right wrist away and dealt him a smart blow on +his cheek.</p> + +<p>"You would fight, would you? What a little spitfire it is! No matter. I +love you all the better. For every smart you give me you shall be repaid +with a dozen kisses. If that isn't returning good for evil may I never +handle a dice box again. There, do as you like. Lay your white hand +again on my face. The bigger debt you run up the better."</p> + +<p>Despite his banter he was very savage and he flung her hands from him. +She at once laid hold of the strap to open the window. He burst into a +loud laugh.</p> + +<p>"So the bird would escape," said he mockingly. "I thought as much."</p> + +<p>She tugged at the strap but tugged in vain. The window refused to budge. +Then it flashed across her mind that it was all part of a plan. She was +to be trapped. The story of a Fleet marriage was a concoction to bait +the trap. She flung herself in the corner, turned her back upon her +captor and pulled her hood over her face.</p> + +<p>She knew that for the time being she was helpless. What was the good of +wasting her strength in struggles, her spirit in remonstrance and be +laughed at for her pains? So she sat sullenly and turned a deaf ear to +Dorrimore's triumphant endearments.</p> + +<p>That wrestle with the window strap had done one thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> It had told her +where she was. Lavinia knew her London well. Her rambles as a child had +not been confined to Charing Cross and St. Giles. She had often wandered +down to London Bridge. She loved the bustling life on the river; she +delighted in gazing into the shop windows of the quaint houses on the +bridge which to her youthful imagination seemed to be nodding at each +other, for so close were some that their projecting upper storeys nearly +touched.</p> + +<p>She decided in that confused glance of hers through the window that the +coach was nearing the extreme end of the Poultry. She recognised the +Poultry Compter with its grim entrance and wondered whether the coach +would go straight on to Cornhill and then turn northward towards +Finsbury Fields, or southward to London Bridge.</p> + +<p>For the moment all she thought of was her destination, and when she was +able without attracting her companion's, attention again to peep out of +the window she saw the coach was at the foot of London Bridge. The +driver had been compelled to walk his horses, so narrow and so dark was +the passage way.</p> + +<p>The nightbirds of London were on their rambles looking out for prey; the +bridge was thronged. The people for the most part were half drunk—they +were the scourings from the low taverns in the Southwark Mint. Lavinia +had been revolving a plan of escape, but to launch herself among an +unruly mob ready for any devilry might be worse than remaining where she +was. But in spite of all that she did not cease to think about her plan +and watched for an opportunity when the worst of the rabble should have +passed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the coach came to a standstill. Shouts and oaths—more of the +latter than the former—were heard, and Dorrimore after fretting and +fuming lowered the window on his side and put out his head.</p> + +<p>"What the devil's hindering you?" he demanded angrily, of the coachman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That monstrously clumsy waggon; the stubborn knave of a waggoner has +gotten the middle of the road and there he sticks. He'll draw neither to +the left or the right. I've a mind to get down and baste the surly +bumpkin's hide."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool. Keep where you are. We must wait. Speak him fair."</p> + +<p>Two things struck Lavinia. One was the open window. Evidently Dorrimore +had thought it only necessary to secure one window—that on the side +where she was sitting. If she were on the opposite side how easy to slip +her hand through the opening and turn the handle of the door. But this +was impossible. She could not hope to succeed.</p> + +<p>The other thing which fixed itself in her mind was the familiar tone of +the coachman towards Dorrimore. It was more that of an equal than of a +menial. This impression confirmed her suspicion that she was trapped. +Dorrimore had doubtless enlisted the services of a confidential friend +rather than trust to a servant whose blabbing tongue might serve to +betray him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Dorrimore's head was still out of the window. He was calling +to the waggoner and offering him a crown to pull his horses and load to +one side, but it was no easy task to move the gigantic lumbering wain +with its tilt as big as a haystack and its wheels a foot thick. Lavinia +had her eyes fixed at the window on her side, intent on watching a +little group of persons who were curious to see the result of the +deadlock. They were quietly disposed apparently.</p> + +<p>Swiftly she bent down, slipped off one of her high heeled shoes and +straightened her body. The next moment there was the crash of broken +glass. She had struck the window with the heel of her shoe and had +thrust her hand through the jagged hole, turned the handle, opened the +door and had jumped out. Dorrimore, intent upon parleying with the +waggoner, had either not heard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> smash or had attributed the cause to +anything but the real one.</p> + +<p>The group were startled by the flying figure. In her haste and agitation +she had stumbled on alighting and would have fallen but for a man who +caught her.</p> + +<p>"S'death madam, are you hurt?" she heard him say.</p> + +<p>"No, no. For Heaven's sake don't stay me. I'm in great danger. I'm +running from an enemy. Oh, let me go—let me go!"</p> + +<p>"But you're wounded. See."</p> + +<p>Blood was on her arm. A drop or two had fallen on the man's ruffles. She +had cut herself in her wild thrust through the jagged hole in the door.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing," she breathed. "Oh, if you've any pity don't keep me."</p> + +<p>The man made no reply. He whipped out his handkerchief, tied it round +the cut and holding her arm tightly, forced a way through the crowd +towards the Southwark side of the bridge.</p> + +<p>He might have got her away unobserved had it not been for Dorrimore's +coachman. The fellow uttered a yell and leaving his horses to take care +of themselves leaped from the box.</p> + +<p>"A guinea to any one who stops that woman," he shouted.</p> + +<p>Lavinia and her companion had nearly reached the obstructive waggon. A +dozen persons or so were between them and the yelling coachman. If they +succeeded in passing the waggon there might be a chance of escaping in +the darkness. But the onlookers crowding between the obstruction and the +shops—there were in those days no pavements—were too much interested +in what was going on to move, and the two found themselves wedged in a +greasy, ragged mob.</p> + +<p>Then came a rush from behind by those eager to earn a guinea and things +became worse. The girl, helped by the young man—she had seen enough of +him to know that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> he was both young and good-looking—urged her way +through the crowd, and those in front, seeing she looked like a +gentlewoman and knowing nothing of the guinea offered for her capture +stood back and she passed through. At that moment she felt her +companion's grasp relax. Then his fingers slipped from her arm. Some one +had struck him.</p> + +<p>"Run to the stairs and take a boat," he whispered. "Perhaps you haven't +any money. Here's my purse," and he pushed it into her hand.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't have it," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"You must. Quick! Fly!"</p> + +<p>"But what of you?"</p> + +<p>"I shall stay here, face the mob and give you time to get away."</p> + +<p>She would have refused. She would have remained with her champion, but +the swaying mob ordered otherwise. She found herself separated from him +and carried onward whether she would or not. She was terribly frightened +and knew not what to do. Hoarse shouts pursued her; she heard the sound +of blows. Somehow no one seemed to notice her. Probably the fighting was +more to their taste. Suddenly she found herself alone. The archway +called the Traitors' Gate which then formed the entrance to the bridge +from the Surrey side was behind her. Crowds were pouring through the +Gate eager to see what the rumpus was about or to take part in it on the +chance of plunder, and they did not heed the shrinking figure in the +deep doorway of a house close to the bridge.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was torn with anxiety. The young man whose purse she was holding +tightly—how was he faring? She could not help him by staying. Dorrimore +and Dorrimore's coachman with the guinea he had offered for her capture +had to be thought of. Her danger was by no means over. The roadway was +comparatively clear. Now was her chance if she was ever to have one. +She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> stole from the doorway; the stairs leading to the river were close +at hand and down these she sped.</p> + +<p>The tide was at low ebb. She was standing on the shingle. But she looked +in vain for a waterman. There were plenty of boats on the river, most of +them loaded with merry parties returning from Spring Gardens, Vauxhall, +and no boats were plying for hire. She dared not ascend to the Borough. +Bullies and thieves abounded in the southern approaches to the bridge. +She crept down to one of the abutments of the bridge and tremulously +listened to the turmoil going on above.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the man who had come to her rescue was being hardly pressed. +He was surrounded by a mob led by Dorrimore's coachman. It was not the +leader who had struck the blow which made him lose his hold of Lavinia's +arm, but one of the mob for no motive other than a love for brutality. +The coachman had forced his way to the front a minute or so afterwards. +Almost at the same time a stone hit Lavinia's champion in the cheek, +cutting it and drawing blood.</p> + +<p>"Cowards!" he shouted. "If you're for fighting at least fight fair. Who +did that?" and he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.</p> + +<p>"At your service, sir. Give me the credit of it. Captain Jeremy Rofflash +isn't the man to let the chance of a little pretty sword play go by."</p> + +<p>The speaker was the man who acted as Dorrimore's coachman. He was every +inch a braggadocio. There were many such who had been with Marlborough +and had returned to their native country to earn their living by their +wits and by hiring out their swords.</p> + +<p>The fellow who called himself Jeremy Rofflash had not time to draw his +sword; the fist of the man he had thought to frighten had shot out swift +as an arrow, catching him between the eyes and tumbling him backwards.</p> + +<p>At the sight of the young gallant's spirit a number of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> the mob +instantly ranged themselves on his side. Others came on like infuriated +animals on the off chance of Captain Jeremy Rofflash rewarding them for +their services.</p> + +<p>"You'd better show these ruffians a clean pair of heels," whispered a +friendly voice in the young man's ear. "To Winchester Stairs—now's your +chance before yonder bully's on his feet."</p> + +<p>It was good advice and Lancelot Vane, the young man, budding poet and +playwright, who had found himself involved in a dangerous squabble, +which might mean his death, over a girl whom he had only seen for a few +minutes, had the sense to take it. But it was no easy task to extricate +himself. A burly ruffian was approaching him with arm uplifted and +whirling a bludgeon. Vane caught the fellow a blow in the waist and he +immediately collapsed. Before the prostrate man could get his wind, Vane +darted through the Traitors' Gate and racing towards the Borough with a +score or so of the rabble after him, darted into the first opening he +came to.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h4>"MANY A MAN WOULD GIVE A HANDFUL OF GUINEAS FOR A KISS FROM SALLY +SALISBURY"</h4> + +<p>The fugitive found himself in a narrow ill-smelling, vilely paved alley +to the east of the Borough. Tall, ugly, dirty houses bordered it on each +side, a thick greasy mud covered the uneven stones. Dimly he was +conscious of the sound of a window being opened here and there, of +hoarse shouts and shrill screams, of shadowy beings who doubtless were +men and women but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> who were more like ghosts than creatures of flesh and +blood.</p> + +<p>But no one molested him. This might be explained by the fact that those +who saw him running took him to be some criminal fleeing from justice to +take sanctuary in the Southwark slums, an impression quite sufficient to +ensure their sympathy. At least, this was what at first happened. +Afterwards the mob took it into their heads to pursue him and for no +particular reason save devilry.</p> + +<p>The seething crowd poured into the narrow alley. Like a hunted deer the +young man ran up one court and down another, stumbling now and again +half from exhaustion and half from the greasy mud covered stones. He +could hear his pursuers coming nearer and nearer, but his strength was +gone. He dragged himself a few steps further and staggered into a +doorway, sinking on the steps in an almost fainting condition.</p> + +<p>The next moment the door behind him opened, a hand gripped his shoulder +and a woman's voice whispered:—</p> + +<p>"Come inside. Make haste before you're seen."</p> + +<p>The young man raised his head. He was dimly conscious of a handsome +face, of a pair of bold eyes staring into his.</p> + +<p>"Come. Why are you waiting? Do you want to be murdered?" she cried +imperiously.</p> + +<p>He struggled to his feet and she dragged him into the passage and closed +the door. Scarcely had she done so when the clatter of feet and a +confused sound of voices told that his pursuers were approaching. Had +they tracked him to the house? The point was at once settled by a loud +hammering at the door.</p> + +<p>The woman half turned her head and cast a scornful look over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Knock away, you devils. You won't break those panels in a hurry. For +all that, the place isn't safe for you, Mr. Vane."</p> + +<p>"What, you know me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>She laughed. Her laughter was loud rather than musical.</p> + +<p>"Haven't I seen you with many a merry party at Spring Gardens? Don't you +remember that mad night when one of your friends was full of wine? +Didn't I cut off the end of his periwig and throw it to the mob to be +scrambled for?"</p> + +<p>Lancelot Vane's pale face flushed slightly. He hadn't a very precise +recollection of what had happened on that night of frolic and revelry. +Like the rest he had had his bottle or two. The full blooded handsome +woman whom nothing abashed, who could take her liquor like a man, whose +beauty fired the souls of the gallants hovering about her wrangling for +her smiles, was part of the confused picture that had remained in his +memory. He had some vague remembrance of having kissed her or that she +had kissed him—it didn't matter which it was, nothing mattered very +much when the wine was in and the wit was out.</p> + +<p>Yet now when both were sober and her round, plump arm was round his +shoulders on the plea of supporting him he felt embarrassed, ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, madam, for your help," he said hurriedly. "But I won't +bring trouble upon you. Those rascals are still clamouring for my +blood—why I know not—and if they once burst into the house you'll +suffer."</p> + +<p>"They won't frighten me, but I wouldn't have you come to harm. There's a +way of escape. I'll show it you."</p> + +<p>With her arm still round him though there was no necessity for his +strength was gradually returning, she led him up the first flight—some +half dozen steps—of a narrow staircase to a small window which she +threw open.</p> + +<p>"That's the Black Ditch. It leads to the river and is fairly dry now +that the tide is out. You can easily find your way to Tooley Street."</p> + +<p>"Thanks—thanks," he murmured.</p> + +<p>He clambered on to the window sill and gradually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> lowered himself. While +his head, slightly thrown back, was above the sill she bent down swiftly +and kissed him full on the lips.</p> + +<p>"Many a man would give a handful of guineas for a kiss from Sally +Salisbury. You shall have one for nothing. It mayn't bring you luck, but +what of that?"</p> + +<p>He let go his hold, alighted safely on his feet and ran along the ditch, +every nerve quivering in a tumult of emotion, and with Sally Salisbury's +strident, reckless laugh ringing in his ears.</p> + +<p>Sally leaned her elbows on the sill and craning her head watched the +receding figure of the young man. Then she straightened her body and +walked leisurely from the room into one at the front of the house on the +first floor. The hammering at the entrance door had never ceased. She +threw open the window and looked down upon the swaying crowd.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she called out.</p> + +<p>"The man you're hiding," was the reply in a hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>"You lie. There's no man here."</p> + +<p>"No man where Mistress Sally Salisbury is? Ho-ho!"</p> + +<p>She knew the voice. It was that of Captain Jeremy Rofflash.</p> + +<p>Seizing a lamp Sally Salisbury ran down the stairs and opened the door. +Holding the lamp high over her head the light fell with striking effect +upon her luxuriant yellow hair clustering down upon a neck and shoulders +that Juno might have envied. The resemblance did not stop here. Juno in +anger could have found her double in Sally Salisbury at that moment. +Evidently the visitor was unwelcome.</p> + +<p>"What does this silly masquerade mean?" she demanded, her eyes roaming +over the coachman's livery in high displeasure. "Have you turned over a +new leaf and gone into honest service?"</p> + +<p>"Honest service be damned! Honesty doesn't belong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> to me or to you +either, Sally. Where's the man I'm looking for? I twigged the fellow +just as you shut the door upon him."</p> + +<p>"Did you? Then you're welcome to go on looking."</p> + +<p>He strode in, muttering oaths. When the door was closed he turned upon +her.</p> + +<p>"Hang me, Sally, if I know what your game is in sheltering this spark. +Anyhow you wouldn't do it if you didn't see your way to some coin out of +him."</p> + +<p>"I don't, so shut up your sauce."</p> + +<p>"More fool you then. Look here, Sal. I've got hold of a cull or I +shouldn't be in this lackey's coat. The fool's bursting with gold and he +wants someone to help him to spend it. I'll be hanged if there's another +woman in London like you for that fun. Now's your chance. He's sweet on +a wench—a raw boarding school miss—he ran off with her an hour or so +ago. The little fool thought she was going to be married by a Fleet +parson, but somehow she took fright and jumped out of the coach on +London Bridge. How the devil she did it beats me, though to be sure when +one of your sex makes up her mind to anything she'll do it and damme, I +believe Beelzebub helps her. Now then——"</p> + +<p>"What's this gabble to do with me?" broke in Sally, disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. The wench had a friend in the crowd—a man who got her +away—damn him. I jumped from the coach and we had a set to. See this?"</p> + +<p>Scowling ferociously Rofflash pointed to a lump beneath his eye which +promised to become a beautiful mouse on the morrow.</p> + +<p>"The jackanapes got me on the hop; my foot slipped and s'life, I was +down. But for that I'd ha' spitted him like a partridge. By the time I +was on my legs the mob were after him. I joined in the hue and cry and +we ran him down to your house. Now then, where's his hiding hole?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> It'll +mean a matter o' twenty guineas in your pocket to give him up."</p> + +<p>"Blood money! I don't earn my living that way. You could have spared +your breath, Rofflash. The man's not here. I'll show you how he escaped. +Come this way."</p> + +<p>Sally led the fellow to the window overlooking the Black Ditch and told +him the story.</p> + +<p>"Are you bamboozling me, you jade?" growled Rofflash. "It would be like +you."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it would if it were worth my while but it isn't. Look for +yourself. Can't you see the deep foot-prints in the mud?"</p> + +<p>The waning moon gave sufficient light to show the black slimy surface of +the ditch. An irregularly shaped hole immediately below the window +showed where Vane had alighted. Footprints distinct enough indicated the +direction taken.</p> + +<p>"If you're not satisfied search the house."</p> + +<p>"I'll take your word. Who's your friend? You wouldn't lift your little +finger to save a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Who's the girl?" Sally parried in a flash. "What's she like?"</p> + +<p>Rofflash had sharp wits. Cunning was part of his trade.</p> + +<p>"Ho ho," he thought. "Sits the wind in that quarter? I'll steer +accordingly."</p> + +<p>"The girl? As tempting as Venus and a good deal livelier, I'll swear. +'Faith, she's one worth fighting for. I'll do her gallant justice. If +he's as handy with his blade as he is with his fists he'll be a pretty +swordsman. He'll need all he knows, though," added Rofflash darkly, +"when I meet him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, when!" echoed Sally sarcastically. "You'll get no help from me."</p> + +<p>"What! Sally Salisbury handing over the man she fancies to another +woman? Is the world coming to an end?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rofflash burst into a jeering laugh. It irritated Sally beyond endurance +as he intended it should. But it did not provoke the reply he hoped for.</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business," she snapped.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's what I'm doing and <i>my</i> business is <i>yours</i>. But if you're +fool enough to chuck away a handful of guineas, why do it. All I can say +is that <i>my</i> man would give you anything you like to ask if you'd open +your mouth and tell him where <i>your</i> man is."</p> + +<p>"Then I won't. That's my answer, Jeremy Rofflash. Put it in your pipe +and smoke it."</p> + +<p>Rofflash made her a profound bow and smiled mockingly.</p> + +<p>"Have your own way, mistress. What about this? Something more in your +line, I'll warrant."</p> + +<p>He thrust his hand beneath the upper part of his long flapped waistcoat +and drew out a necklace. The pearls of which it was composed were +suffused with a pinkish tinge, the massive gold clasp gleamed in the +lamplight. Sally's eyes flashed momentarily and then became scornful.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to be bribed by <i>that</i> either," she cried.</p> + +<p>"Wait till you're asked, my dear. This is my business alone. It has +nought to do with t'other. A week ago these pearls were round the fair +neck of my Lady Wendover. I encountered her in her coach on the Bath +Road near Maidenhead Thicket—my favourite trysting place with foolish +dames who travel with their trinkets and fal-lals. At the sight of my +barkers her ladyship screamed and fainted. This made things as easy as +an old glove. Click! and the necklace was in my pocket and I was +galloping back to Hounslow as if Old Nick himself was behind me."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what have your highway robberies to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Just this, pretty one. My Lord Wendover's offered £1,000 reward for the +return of her Ladyship's jewels. I dursn't hand 'em about. I've no fancy +for the hang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>man's rope. But <i>you</i> can get rid of them and no one be the +wiser."</p> + +<p>It was true. Sally had been very useful to Rofflash in disposing of some +of the trophies of his exploits on the Bath Road. The highwayman never +grumbled at whatever commission she chose to take and the arrangement +was to their mutual advantage.</p> + +<p>Sally took the pearls and stroked their smooth surfaces lovingly.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame to part with 'em."</p> + +<p>"Aye, they'd look brave on your neck, sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"No. I'm as loth to travel to Tyburn as you. Every fine woman of quality +knows the Wendover pearls. I'd be marked at the first ridotto or +masquerade I showed my face in. I'll do my best to turn 'em into money."</p> + +<p>"You're a jewel yourself, Sally. That's all I want. Adieu, mistress, and +good luck go with you."</p> + +<p>Rofflash swaggered out and as he made his way to the bridge he pondered +deeply over the mystery of woman. Here was Sally Salisbury, a "flaunting +extravagant quean," always over head and ears in debt, refusing a chance +to put money in her purse just because she had a fancy for a man who +maybe was as poor as a church mouse. Yet, as regarded men generally, +Sally was a daughter of the horseleech!</p> + +<p>"Humph," muttered Rofflash, "so much the better. The end on't is I +pocket Dorrimore's gold and no sharing out. If Sally likes to be a fool +'tis her affair and not mine. I've only got to keep my eye on her. What +a woman like her wants she'll get, even if it costs her her life. Sooner +or later, madam, you'll find your way to the fellow's lodgings, and +it'll go hard if I'm not on the spot too."</p> + +<p>By the time Rofflash was at the bridge the obstructing waggon had been +got out of the way. Dorrimore's coach was drawn to one side and +Dorrimore himself was striding impatiently up and down, occasionally +refreshing himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> with a pinch of snuff and indulging in oaths more or +less elegant.</p> + +<p>"Where the devil have you been, Rofflash?" he cried, testily. "And where +the devil's the girl?"</p> + +<p>"She'll be safe in your hands shortly, Mr. Archibald, never fear."</p> + +<p>"What, have you got her?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite, but almost as good. The spark whose arms she jumped into is +her gallant, you may lay your life, and——"</p> + +<p>"By thunder, if that's so I'll—I'll run him through, I will, by God!"</p> + +<p>"Softly—softly. All in good time. By a bit of luck I came across a +friend who knows him and has engaged to run him to earth. It only means +a few guineas and I made free to promise him a purse. Within a week +you'll be face to face with your rival and you'll have your revenge."</p> + +<p>"To the devil with my revenge. It's the girl I want, you blundering +idiot."</p> + +<p>"And it's the girl you shall have, by gad. Can't you see, my good sir, +that when you clap your hands on the fellow you clap your hands on the +girl too?"</p> + +<p>"S'life! Do you mean to say she's with him?"</p> + +<p>"I'd go to a thousand deaths on that."</p> + +<p>"I'll not believe it. The girl's a pretty fool or I shouldn't have made +her sweet on me with so little trouble, but she's not that sort."</p> + +<p>"If she isn't, all I can say is that St. Giles and Drury Lane are the +places where innocent and unsuspecting maids are to be found. Ask Sally +Salisbury."</p> + +<p>"Damn Sally Salisbury," cried the fine gentleman in a fury. "D'ye think +I don't know gold from dross? I'll take my oath no man had touched the +lips of that coy little wench before mine did."</p> + +<p>"By all means keep to that belief, sir. It won't do you no harm. Now if +you'll take my advice you'll let me drive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> you to Moll King's and you'll +finish the night like a man of mettle and a gentleman."</p> + +<p>Dorrimore was in a morose and sullen mood. He wanted bracing up and he +adopted Rofflash's suggestion. The coach rattled to Mrs. King's +notorious tavern in Covent Garden, where thieves and scoundrels, the +very dregs of London, mingled with their betters; and amid a bestial +uproar, with the assistance of claret and Burgundy, to say nothing of +port "laced" with brandy on the one hand, and gin and porter on the +other, all differences in stations were forgotten and gentlemen and +footpads were on a level—dead drunk.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h4>MOTHER AND DAUGHTER</h4> + +<p>A London night in the first quarter of the eighteenth century had very +little rest. Until long past midnight a noisy, lawless, drunken rabble +made the streets hideous. It was quite three o'clock, when as +physiologists tell us the vital forces are at their lowest, before it +could be said that the city was asleep. And that sleep did not last +long. Soon the creaking of market cart and waggon wheels, the shouts of +drovers and waggoners, tramping horses, bellowing cattle and bleating +sheep would dispel the stillness and proclaim the beginning of another +day.</p> + +<p>Business in the approaches to the markets was in full swing before four +o'clock. Carters and waggoners were thirsty and hungry souls and the +eating houses and saloop stalls were thronged. The Old Bailey, from its +nearness to Smithfield was crowded, and the buxom proprietress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> of +Fenton's coffee house was hard put to it to serve her clamorous +customers and to see that she wasn't cheated or robbed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton had improved in appearance as well as in circumstances since +she had come from Bedfordbury to the Old Bailey. She was a good-looking +woman of the fleshly type, with a bosom such as Rowlandson loved to +depict. She was high coloured, her eyes were deep blue, full and without +a trace of softness. Her lips were red and well shaped, her teeth white +and even. She was on the shady side of forty, but looked ten years +younger. Her customers admired her and loved to exchange a little coarse +badinage in which the good woman more than held her own.</p> + +<p>There was a Mr. Fenton somewhere in the world, but his wife was quite +indifferent to his existence. He might be in the West Indian plantations +or the hulks for what she cared. She had always gone her own way and +meant to do so to the end of her days.</p> + +<p>Apparently she was not in the best of tempers this morning. A drover who +attempted to jest with her was unmercifully snubbed, and so also was a +master butcher from Marylebone, who as a rule was received with favour. +But the lady was not in an ill temper with everybody—certainly not with +the stolid farmer-like man who was plodding his way through a rumpsteak +washed down by small beer.</p> + +<p>The coffee shop was divided into boxes and the farmer-like man was +seated in one near the door which opened into the kitchen. Mrs. Fenton +had constantly to pass in and out and his seat was conveniently placed +so as to permit her to bestow a smile upon him as she went by or to +exchange a hurried word.</p> + +<p>"The mistress is a bit sweet in that quarter, eh?" whispered a customer +with a jerk of the head and a wink to Hannah the waitress, whom Mrs. +Fenton had brought with her from Bedfordbury.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should just think she was," returned the girl contemptuously. "It +makes one sick. She ought to be a done with sweetheartin'."</p> + +<p>"A woman's never too old for that, my girl, as you'll find when you're +her age. She might do worse. Dobson's got a tidy little purse put by. +There aren't many in the market as does better than him. He's brought up +twenty head o' cattle from his farm at Romford an' he'll sell 'em all +afore night—money down on the nail, mind ye. That'll buy Mistress +Fenton a few fallals if she's a mind for 'em."</p> + +<p>"An' if she's fool enough. Why, he isn't much more than half her years +and she with a grown up daughter too."</p> + +<p>"Aye. May be the gal 'ud be more a match for Dobson than her mother."</p> + +<p>"Don't you let my mistress hear you say that. Why she's that jealous of +Lavinia she could bite the girl's head off. My! Well I never!"</p> + +<p>Hannah started visibly and fixed her eyes on the entrance.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, wench?" growled the man.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in ghosts," returned the girl, paling a little and her +hands trembling in a fashion which rather belied her words, "or I'd say +as I'd just seen Miss Lavinia's sperrit look in at the door. If it isn't +her ghost it's her double."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you run outside and settle your mind?"</p> + +<p>"'Cause it's impossible it could be her. The girl's at boarding school."</p> + +<p>"What's that got to do with it? You go and see."</p> + +<p>Hannah hesitated, but at last plucked up her courage and went to the +door. She saw close to the wall some few yards away a somewhat +draggle-tail figure in cloak and hood. Within the hood was Lavinia's +face, though one would hardly recognise it as hers, so white, so drawn, +were the cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Saints alive, surely it isn't you, Miss Lavvy?" cried Hannah, clasping +her hands as she ran to the fugitive.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is, worse luck. I'm in sad straits, Hannah.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> I wouldn't have +come here—I know what mother is—but I couldn't think what to do."</p> + +<p>"But good lord—the school—mercy on us child, they haven't turned you +out, have they?"</p> + +<p>"No, but they will if I go back. I dursn't do that. I couldn't get in. +I've been robbed of the key. It was inside my reticule that a rogue +snatched from my wrist on London Bridge."</p> + +<p>"London Bridge! Gracious! What mischief took 'ee there and at this time +o' the mornin'?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," sighed the girl, half wearily, half pettishly. "I can't +tell you. Don't bother me any more. I'm tired to death. Take me inside +Hannah, or I'll drop. I suppose mother'll be in a fury when she sees me, +but it can't be helped. I don't think I care. It's nothing to do with +her."</p> + +<p>Hannah forebore pestering the girl with more questions and led her to +the open door. The waitress had been with Mrs. Fenton in the squalid +days of six months before at the Bedfordbury coffee shop and she well +knew how Lavinia was constantly getting into a scrape, not from +viciousness, but from pure recklessness and love of excitement. Her +mother's treatment of her "to cure her of her ways," as the lady put it, +was simply brutal.</p> + +<p>Hannah was not a little afraid of what would happen when Mrs. Fenton set +eyes on her wilful daughter. At the same time, Lavinia was not the same +girl who at Bedfordbury used to run wild, half clad and half starved, +and yet never looked like a beggar, so pretty and so attractive was she. +Six months had developed her into a woman and the training of Miss +Pinwell, the pink of gentility, had given her the modish airs of a lady +of quality. True, her appearance just now had little of this "quality," +her walk being in fact somewhat limping and one-sided. But there was +good reason for this defect. She had lost one of her high-heeled shoes, +that with which she had battered the coach window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of her protest of not caring, Lavinia's heart went pit-a-pat +when she entered the hot, frowsy, greasy air of the coffee house. +Customers were clamouring to be served and there was no Hannah to wait +upon them. Mrs. Fenton, her eyes flashing fire, was bustling up and down +between the rows of boxes and denouncing the truant waitress in vigorous +Billingsgate.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton had her back turned to the door when Hannah entered with +Lavinia and the two were half way down the gangway before the lady +noticed them. At the sight of her daughter she dropped the dish of eggs +and bacon she was about to deposit in front of a customer and stared +aghast.</p> + +<p>Every eye was turned upon Lavinia who, shaking herself free from +Hannah's friendly support, hastened towards her astonished mother, +anxious to avoid a scene under which in her shattered nerves she might +break down.</p> + +<p>"Devil fetch me," Mrs. Fenton ejaculated before she had recovered from +the shock. "Why, you hussy——"</p> + +<p>Lavinia did not wait to hear more. She brushed past her mother and then +her strength failing her for a moment, she clutched the back of the last +box to steady herself.</p> + +<p>This box was that in which Dobson, the young cattle dealer was seated. +Dobson was human. He fell instantly under the spell of those limpid, +imploring eyes, the tremulous lips, and he rose and proffered his seat.</p> + +<p>The act of courtesy was unfortunate. It accentuated Mrs. Fenton's rage. +Her heart was torn by jealousy. That Lavinia had shaken her head and +refused the seat made not the slightest difference. The girl had become +surpassingly handsome. Despite her fury Mrs. Fenton had eyes for this. +Her own daughter had attracted the notice of <i>her</i> man! The offence was +unpardonable.</p> + +<p>Lavinia knew nothing about this. All she wanted was to escape +observation and she darted into the kitchen, Betty the cook receiving +her with open mouth.</p> + +<p>A narrow, ricketty staircase in a corner of the kitchen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> shut in by a +door which a stranger would take for that of a cupboard led to the upper +part of the house. Lavinia guessed as much. She darted to this door, +flung it open and ran up the creaking stairs just as her mother, shaking +with passion, entered and caught sight of her flying skirt.</p> + +<p>"Good laux, mistress," Betty was beginning, but she could get no +further. Mrs. Fenton jumped down her throat.</p> + +<p>"Hold your silly tongue. Don't talk to me. I—the smelling salts! Quick, +you slut, or I'll faint," screamed the lady.</p> + +<p>No one could look less like fainting than did Mrs. Fenton, and so Betty +thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself and fetched the restorer +at which her mistress vigorously sniffed, after sinking, seemingly +prostrate, into a chair. Then she fell to fanning her hot face with her +apron, now and again relieving her feelings with language quite +appropriate to the neighbourhood of the Old Bailey.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Hannah wisely kept aloof and only went to the kitchen when +necessary to execute her customers' orders. Directly the fainting lady +inside saw the waitress she revived.</p> + +<p>"What's this about Lavinia? Tell me. Everything mind," she cried.</p> + +<p>"What I don't know I can't tell, mistress. Ask her yourself," returned +Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to bamboozle me. You <i>do</i> know."</p> + +<p>"I say I don't. I found her outside more dead than alive, and I brought +her in. I wasn't going to let her be and all the scum of Newgate about."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was it. And pray how did you come to learn she was outside?"</p> + +<p>"Because she'd looked in at the door a minute afore and was afeared to +come in 'cause of you, mistress. Give me that dish o' bacon, Betty. The +man who saw his breakfast tumbling on the floor is in a sad pother."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was a shot for Mrs. Fenton. Hannah rarely sought to have words with +her mistress, but when she did she stood up to her boldly. Mrs. Fenton +was discomfited and Hannah, snatching the dish Betty handed to her, +vanished to appease the hungry customer, leaving the angry woman to chew +over her wrath as best she might.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton gradually cooled down. In half an hour's time the market +would be in full swing and most of her customers would be gone. Though +she was dying to know what had brought her daughter home, the story +would not spoil by keeping. Besides, though she was in a pet with +Dobson, she did not want to give him offence and she tried to make +amends for her angry outburst by bestowing upon him extra graciousness.</p> + +<p>Before long Hannah was quite able to attend single-handed to the few +lingerers, and Mrs. Fenton went upstairs, eager to empty her vial of +suppressed temper on "that chit," as she generally called Lavinia.</p> + +<p>She entered her own bedroom expecting to find the girl there, but +Lavinia had no fancy for invading her mother's domains and had gone into +the garret where Hannah slept. Dead with fatigue, mentally and bodily, +she had thrown herself dressed as she was on Hannah's bed and in a few +minutes was in a heavy sleep. But before doing so she slipped under the +bolster something she was holding in her left hand. It was the purse +forced upon her by Lancelot Vane.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton stood for a minute or so looking at her daughter. She could +not deny that the girl was very pretty, but that prettiness gave her no +satisfaction. She felt instinctively that Lavinia was her rival.</p> + +<p>"The baggage is handsomer than I was at her age, and I wasn't a fright +either or the men wouldn't ha' been always dangling after me. With that +face she ought to get a rich husband, but I'll warrant she's a silly +little fool and doesn't know her value," muttered the lady, her hands on +her hips.</p> + +<p>Then her eyes travelled over the picturesque figure on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> the bed, noting +everything—the shoeless foot, the stockings wet to some inches above +the small ankles, the mud-stained skirt, the bedraggled cloak saturated +for quite a foot of its length. Her hair had lost its comb and had +fallen about her shoulders. Mrs. Fenton frowned as she saw these signs +of disorder.</p> + +<p>Then she caught sight of a piece of paper peeping from the bosom of the +girl's dress. The next instant she had gently drawn it out and was +reading it. The paper was Dorrimore's letter.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I knew there was a man at the bottom of the business. And a +marriage too. Hoity toity, that's another pair of shoes."</p> + +<p>She threw back a fold of the cloak, and scrutinised Lavinia's left hand.</p> + +<p>"No wedding ring!" she gasped. "I might ha' guessed as much. Oh, the +little fool! Why, she's worse than I was. <i>I</i> wasn't to be taken in by +soft whispers and kisses—well—well—<i>well</i>!"</p> + +<p>The lady bumped herself into the nearest chair, breathed heavily and +smoothed her apron distractedly. Then she looked at the letter again. +Her glance went to the top of the sheet.</p> + +<p>"So, no address. That looks bad. Who's Archibald Dorrimore? May be that +isn't his right name. He's some worthless spark who's got hold of her +for his own amusement. Oh, the silly hussy! What could that prim +Mistress Pinwell have been about? A fine boarding school indeed! She +can't go back. But I won't have her here turning the heads of the men. +That dull lout, Bob Dobson, 'ud as lieve throw his money into her lap as +he'd swallow a mug of ale. What'll her fine friends do for her now? +Nothing. She's ruined herself. Well, I won't have her ruin me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton worked her fury to such a height that she could no longer +contain herself, and seizing her daughter's shoulder she shook her +violently. The girl's tired eyelids<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> slowly lifted and she looked +vaguely into the angry face bending over her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what all this means, you jade. What have you been up to? How is +it you're in such a state? Who's been making a fool of you? Who's this +Dorrimore? Are you married to him or not?"</p> + +<p>The good lady might have spared herself the trouble of pouring out this +torrent of questions. The last was really the only one that mattered.</p> + +<p>"Married? No, I'm not," said Lavinia drowsily. "Don't bother me, mother. +Let me sleep. I'll tell you everything, but not—not now. I'm too +tired."</p> + +<p>"Tell me everything? I should think you will or I'll know the reason +why. And it'll have to be the truth or I'll beat it out of you. Get up."</p> + +<p>There was no help for it. Lavinia knew her mother's temper when it was +roused. Slowly rubbing her eyes she sat up, a rueful and repentant +little beauty, but having withal an expression in her eyes which seemed +to suggest that she wasn't going to be brow-beaten without a struggle.</p> + +<p>"I ran away from school to be married," said she with a little pause +between each word. "I thought I was being taken to the Fleet, but when I +saw the coach wasn't going the right way I knew I was being tricked. On +London Bridge I broke the coach window, opened the door and escaped."</p> + +<p>"A parcel of lies! I don't believe one of 'em," interjected the irate +dame.</p> + +<p>"I can't help that. It's the truth all the same. I cut my arm with the +broken glass. Perhaps that'll convince you."</p> + +<p>Lavinia held out her bandaged arm.</p> + +<p>"No, it won't. What's become of your shoe?"</p> + +<p>"I took it off to break the window with the heel and afterwards lost +it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton was silent. If Lavinia were telling false-hoods she told +them remarkably well. She spoke without the slightest hesitation and the +story certainly hung together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"After I jumped from the coach I ran to the river, down the stairs at +the foot of the bridge. The water was low and I stood under the bridge +afraid to move. A terrible fight was going on above me. I don't know +what it was about. The shooting and yelling went on for a long time and +I dursn't stir. I would have taken a wherry but no waterman came near. +Then the tide turned; the water came about my feet and I crept up the +stairs. I was in the Borough, but I dursn't go far. The street was full +of drunken people and I crept into a doorway and hid there. I suppose I +looked like a beggar, for no one noticed me. Then when the streets were +quieter I came here."</p> + +<p>It will be noticed that Lavinia did not think it necessary to mention +the handsome young man who had rescued her.</p> + +<p>While she was recounting her adventures her mother, though listening +attentively, was also pondering over the possible consequences. The +story might be true or it might not, whichever it was did not matter. It +was good enough for the purpose she had in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you go back to Miss Pinwell's?" Mrs. Fenton demanded +sharply. "I see by this scrawl that it isn't the first time you've +stolen out to meet this precious gallant of yours."</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Fenton, suddenly producing the letter which she had hitherto +concealed, waved it in her daughter's face. Lavinia flushed angrily and +burst out:—</p> + +<p>"You'd no right to read that letter any more than you had to steal it."</p> + +<p>"Steal it? Tillyvalley! It's my duty to look after you and I'm going to +do it. Why didn't you go back to the school as you seem to have done +before?"</p> + +<p>"Because the key of the front door was in my reticule, and that was +snatched from me or it slipped from my wrist in the scuffle on the +bridge."</p> + +<p>"A pretty how de do, my young madam, upon my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> word. Miss Pinwell'll +never take you back. Goodness knows what may happen. What'll Mr. Gay, +who's been so good to you, think of your base ingratitude?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia's eyes filled with tears. She broke down when she thought of the +gentle, good-natured poet. She could only weep silently.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fenton saw the sign of penitence with much satisfaction and while +twirling her wedding ring to assist her thoughts, suddenly said:—</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me a word about this spark of yours. Who is he? What +is he? Some draper's 'prentice, I suppose, or footman, may be out of a +place for robbing his master and thinking of turning highwayman."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind," cried Lavinia, furious that her mother should +think she would so bemean herself. "I hate him for his falseness, but +he's a born gentleman all the same."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is he? Let's hear all about him. There's no address on his letter. +Where does he live?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't tell you."</p> + +<p>"Because you're ashamed. I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't a trull's bully +from Lewknor's Lane or Whetstone Park. The rascals pass themselves off +as sparks of fashion at ridottos, masquerades and what not and live by +robbery and blood money. I warrant I'll soon run your fine gentleman to +earth. He talks about telling his father. Pooh! That was but to bait the +trap and you walked into it nicely."</p> + +<p>Her mother's insinuations maddened poor Lavinia. The mention of +Lewknor's Lane and Whetstone Park, two of the most infamous places in +London, was amply sufficient to break her spirit, which indeed was Mrs. +Fenton's intention. The worst of it was that after what had happened she +had in her secret heart come round to the same opinion so far as the +baiting of the trap was concerned. She was far too cast down to make +any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> reply and wept copiously, purely through injured pride and +humiliation.</p> + +<p>"You must leave me to deal with this business, child," said Mrs. Fenton +loftily. "If the young man really belongs to the quality and what he +writes about his father is true, then his father must be made to pay for +the injury his son's done you. I suppose he's told you who his father is +and where he lives, and <i>I</i> want to know too. If I'm to get you out of +the mess you're in you must help me."</p> + +<p>"I won't," gasped Lavinia between her sobs. "I don't want to hear +anything more about him or his father either. I wish to forget both of +them."</p> + +<p>"Humph! That won't be so easy as you'll find, you stubborn little fool. +Keep your mouth shut if you like. I'll ferret out the truth without +you."</p> + +<p>And stuffing the letter into her capacious pocket, Mrs. Fenton stalked +out of the room and directly she was outside she turned the key in the +lock. Lavinia, too exhausted in body and too depressed in mind to think, +sobbed herself to sleep.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h4>"I WISH I WERE A RICH LADY FOR YOUR SAKE"</h4> + +<p>Lavina awoke to find Hannah in the room. The maid had brought in a cup +of chocolate and something to eat.</p> + +<p>"I'm a dreadful sight, Hannah," said she dolefully.</p> + +<p>"You'll be better when you've had a wash and done your hair. Your +cloak's spoilt. What a pity! Take it off and let me brush away the mud +and see if I can smooth out the creases."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lavinia stretched herself, yawned and slowly pulled herself up, sitting +on the side of the bed for a minute or two before she commenced her +toilette. Hannah helped her to dress to the accompaniment of a running +commentary on the state of her clothing.</p> + +<p>"What am I to do about shoes?" asked Lavinia, when this part of her +wearing apparel was reached.</p> + +<p>"You won't be wanting any for a time I'm thinking, Miss Lavvy."</p> + +<p>"Not wanting any shoes? Whatever do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother means to lock you in this room for a while. She was for +keeping you for a day or two on bread and water, but I talked her out of +it."</p> + +<p>Lavinia started in dismay. Then she burst out:—</p> + +<p>"I won't endure such treatment. I won't, Hannah! You'll help me to run +away, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Not till I know what's going to become of you."</p> + +<p>"But if I'm a prisoner you're my gaoler and you can let me out whenever +you choose."</p> + +<p>"No I can't. I've to hand over the key to your mother."</p> + +<p>"So you can after I'm gone."</p> + +<p>"And what do you suppose I'm to say to her when that happens?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what you like, Hannah. I don't believe you're afraid of anybody. +You're so brave," said Lavinia, coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, we'll see. But I warn you, child, I'm not going to let you +come to harm."</p> + +<p>Lavinia laughed and shrugged her plump shoulders. After what she had +gone through the night before she felt she could face anything. She knew +she could talk over the good-natured Hannah and she heard the latter +lock the door without feeling much troubled.</p> + +<p>For all that Lavinia had a good deal to worry about, and she sat sipping +the chocolate while she pondered over what she should do. She could +think of no one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> she could go to besides Mr. Gay. How would he receive +her after her escapade?</p> + +<p>"He knows so many play actors," she murmured,—"didn't he say I had a +stage face? I wonder—I wonder."</p> + +<p>And still wondering she rose and straightened the bed. Shifting the +pillow she found beneath it the purse she had placed there before going +to sleep. Excitement and exhaustion had driven it out of her head. She +felt quite remorseful when the remembrance of the chivalrous young man +came into her mind.</p> + +<p>"Ah me," she sighed. "I'll warrant I'll never set eyes on him again. I +do hope he wasn't hurt."</p> + +<p>Lavinia looked at the purse wistfully. She had not had the opportunity +of seeing what it contained. It was of silk with a silver ring at each +end to keep the contents safe, and an opening between the rings. One end +had money in it, in the other a piece of paper crackled. She slipped the +ring at the money end over the opening and took out the coins—a guinea, +a crown and a shilling.</p> + +<p>"I don't like taking it. He gave it me to pay the waterman and I hadn't +the chance. It isn't mine. I ought to return it to him. But how can I? I +don't know where he lives. I don't even know his name."</p> + +<p>Then she fingered the other end. She slid the ring but hesitated to do +more. To look at the paper seemed like prying into the owner's affairs. +It must be something precious for him to carry it about with him. +Suppose it was a love letter from his sweetheart? She blushed at the +idea. Then curiosity was roused. Her fingers crept towards the papers, +for there were two. One ran thus:—</p> + +<blockquote><p class='right'>"The Duke's Theatre, <br /> +"Lincoln's Inn Fields.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—</p> + +<p>"I have read your play and herewith return it. I doubt not it has +merit but it will not suit me.</p> + +<p class='center'>"I am your obedient humble servant,</p> + +<p class='right'>"<span class="smcap">John Rich.</span>"</p> + +<p>Lancelot Vane, Esq.</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>"Poor fellow—so he writes plays. How aggravating to have such a rude +letter. 'Obedient—humble—servant,' forsooth! I hate that John Rich. +He's a bear."</p> + +<p>Then Lavinia unfolded the second letter. It was more depressing than the +first.</p> + +<p>"Lancelot Vane, 3, Fletcher's Court, Grub Street," Lavinia read; +"Sir,—I give you notiss that if you do nott pay me my nine weeks' rent +you owe me by twelve o'clock to-morrer I shall at wunce take possesshun +and have innstruckted the sheriff's offiser in ackordance therewith. +Yours respeckfully, Solomon Moggs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, a precious lot of respect indeed," cried Lavinia angrily.</p> + +<p>The date of the letter was that of the day before. The money had +consequently to be paid that very day and it was already past twelve +o'clock. If the poor young man could not pay he would at that moment be +homeless in the street and maybe arrested for debt and taken to the +Fleet or even Newgate. Hadn't she seen the poor starving debtors stretch +their hands through the "Debtors' door" in the Old Bailey and beg for +alms from the passers-by with which to purchase food? She pictured the +poor young man going through this humiliation and it made her shudder. +He was so handsome!</p> + +<p>And all for the want of a paltry twenty-seven shillings! Twenty-seven +shillings? Was not that the exact sum of money in the purse?</p> + +<p>"Oh, that must have been for his rent," cried Lavinia, clasping her +hands in great distress. "And he gave it to me!"</p> + +<p>She was overwhelmed. She must return the money at once. But how? She ran +to the door. It was locked sure enough. The window? Absurd. It looked +out upon a broad gutter and was three storeys from the street. If it +were possible to lower herself she certainly could not do so in the +daytime. And by nightfall it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> would be too late. She sat down on the +side of the bed, buried her face in her hands and abandoned herself to +despair.</p> + +<p>But this feeling did not last long. Lavinia sprang to her feet, flung +back her hair and secured it. Then she went once more to the window and +clambered out into the broad gutter. She hadn't any clear idea what to +do beyond taking stock of her surroundings. She looked over the parapet. +It seemed a fearful depth down to the roadway. Even if she had a rope it +was doubtful if she could lower herself. Besides, rarely at any hour +even at night was the Old Bailey free from traffic. She would have to +think of some other way.</p> + +<p>She crept along the gutter in front of the next house. Dirty curtains +hung at windows. There was no danger of her being seen even if the room +had any occupants. She crawled onward, feeling she was a sort of Jack +Sheppard whose daring escapes were still being talked about.</p> + +<p>At the next window Lavinia hesitated and stopped. This window had no +curtains. The grime of many months, maybe of years, obscured the glass. +One of the small panes was broken. Gathering courage she craned her head +and looked through the opening. The room was empty. The paper on the +walls hung in strips. There was a little hole in the ceiling through +which the daylight streamed.</p> + +<p>If the house should, like the room, be empty! The possibility opened up +all kinds of speculation in Lavinia's active brain. Why not explore the +premises? Up till now she had forgotten her lost shoe. To pursue her +investigations unsuitably dressed as she was would be absurd. Supposing +she had a chance of escaping into the street she must be properly +garbed.</p> + +<p>She did not give herself time to think but hastened back to Hannah's +room. She tried on all the shoes she could find. One pair was smaller +than the rest. She put on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> that for the left foot. It was a little too +large but near enough. Then she hurried on her hooded cloak and once +more tackled the gutter. She was able to reach the window catch by +putting her hand through the aperture in the broken pane. In a minute or +so she was in the room, flushed, panting, hopeful.</p> + +<p>A long, long time must have passed since that room had been swept. Flue +and dust had accumulated till they formed a soft covering of nearly a +quarter of an inch thick. A fusty, musty smell was in the room, in the +air of the staircase, everywhere.</p> + +<p>She feared that only the upper part of the house was uninhabited but it +was not so. The place was terribly neglected and dilapidated. Holes were +in the walls, some of the twisted oak stair-rails had been torn away, +patches of the ceiling had fallen. But Lavinia hardly noticed anything +as she flew down the stairs. The lock could not be opened from the +outside without the key, but inside the handle had but to be pushed back +and she was in the street. She pulled her hood well over her head and +hastened towards Ludgate Hill. It was not the nearest route to Grub +Street which she knew was somewhere near Moorfields, but she dared not +pass her mother's house.</p> + +<p>Lavinia knew more about London west of St. Paul's than she did east of +it, and she had to ask her way. Grub Street she found was outside the +city wall, many fragments of which were then standing, and she had to +pass through the Cripples Gate before she reached the squalid quarter +bordering Moor Fields westward, where distressed poets, scurrilous +pamphleteers, booksellers' hacks and literary ne'er-do-wells dragged out +an uncertain existence.</p> + +<p>Lavinia found Fletcher's Court to be a narrow passage with old houses +dating from Elizabethan times, whose projecting storeys were so close +together that at the top floor one could jump across to the opposite +side without much difficulty. With beating heart she entered the house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +the door of which was open. She met an old woman descending a rickety +tortuous staircase and stopped her.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me if Mr. Vane lives here?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Well, he do an' he don't," squeaked the old dame. "Leastways he won't +be here much longer. He's a bein' turned out 'cause he can't pay his +rent, pore young gentleman. We're all sorry for him, so civil spoken and +nice to everybody, not a bit like some o' them scribblers as do nothing +but drink gin day an' night. Street's full of 'em. I can't make out what +they does for a livin'! Scholards they be most of 'em I'm told. Mr. +Vane's lodgin's on the top floor. You goes right up. That's old Sol +Moggs' squeak as you can hear. Don't 'ee be afeared of 'im, dearie."</p> + +<p>The old woman, who was laden with a big basket and a bundle, went out +and Lavinia with much misgiving ascended the stairs. She remembered the +name, Solomon Moggs. He was the landlord. If his nature was as harsh and +discordant as his voice poor Lancelot Vane was having an unpleasant +time.</p> + +<p>"Ill, are ye?" she heard Moggs shrieking. "I can't help that. I didn't +make you ill, did I? Maybe you was in a drunken brawl last night. It +looks like it with that bandage round your head. You scribbling gentry, +the whole bunch of ye, aren't much good. I don't see the use of you. Why +don't ye do some honest work and pay what you owes? I can't afford to +keep you for nothing. Stump up or out ye go neck and crop."</p> + +<p>Lavinia ran up the next flight. The landing at the top was low pitched +and dark. The only light was that which came from the open door of a +front room. In the doorway was a little man in a shabby coat which +reached down to his heels. His wig was frowsy, his three-cornered hat +was out of shape and he held a big stick with which he every now and +then thumped the floor to emphasise his words.</p> + +<p>Beyond this unpleasant figure she could see a small<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> untidy room with a +sloping roof. The floor, the chairs—not common ones but of the early +Queen Anne fashion with leathern seats—an old escritoire, were strewn +with papers. The occupant and owner was invisible. But she could hear +his voice. He was remonstrating with the little man in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Lavinia touched the man on the shoulder. He turned, stared and seeing +only a pretty girl favoured her with a leer.</p> + +<p>"How much does Mr. Vane owe you?" said Lavinia, chinking the coins.</p> + +<p>"Eh, my dear? Are you going to pay his debt? Lucky young man. Nine weeks +at three shillings a week comes to twenty-seven shillings. There ought +to be a bit for the lawyer who wrote the notice to quit. But I'll let +you off that because of your pretty face."</p> + +<p>Lavinia counted the money into the grimy outstretched paw. Moggs' face +wrinkled into a smirk.</p> + +<p>"Much obleeged, my young madam. I'll wager as the spark you've saved +from being turned into the street'll thank you more to your liking than +an old fellow like me could."</p> + +<p>Solomon Moggs made a low bow and was turning away when Lancelot Vane +suddenly appeared. His face was very pallid and he clutched the door to +steady himself. What with his evident weakness and his bandaged head he +presented rather a pitiable picture.</p> + +<p>"What's all this?" he demanded. "I'm not going to take your money, +madam."</p> + +<p>"It's not mine," cried Lavinia in a rather disappointed tone. She could +see he did not remember her.</p> + +<p>"Faith an' that's gospel truth," chuckled Moggs. "It's mine and it's not +going into anybody else's pocket." And he hastily shuffled down the +staircase.</p> + +<p>Lavinia turned to Vane a little ruffled.</p> + +<p>"You don't recollect me," she said. "The money's ours. I didn't want it +but you did and so I brought it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> back. I'm so glad I was in time and +that you're rid of that horrid man."</p> + +<p>Lancelot Vane stared fixedly at her. The events of the night before were +mixed up in his mind and he had but a dim remembrance of the girl's +face. Indeed he had caught only a momentary glimpse of it.</p> + +<p>"Was it you, madam, who were pursued by those ruffians?" he stammered. +"I'm grateful that you've come to no harm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was all your doing," cried Lavinia, eagerly, "you were so brave +and kind. I was too frightened last night to think of anything but +getting away and I didn't thank you. I want to do so now."</p> + +<p>"No, no. It's you who should be thanked. Don't stand there, pray. Do +come inside. It's a frightfully dirty room but it's the best I have."</p> + +<p>"But I—I must get back."</p> + +<p>"You're in no hurry, I hope. I've so much I would like to say to you."</p> + +<p>"What can you have? We're such strangers," she protested.</p> + +<p>"Just now we are perhaps, but every minute we talk together makes us +less so. Please enter."</p> + +<p>His voice was so entreating, his manner so deferential, she could not +resist. She ventured within a few steps and while he cleared a chair +from its books and papers her eyes wandered round. One end of the room +was curtained off and the opening between the curtains revealed a bed. +The furniture was not what one would expect to find in a garret. It was +good and solid but undusted and the upholstery was faded. The general +appearance was higgledy-piggledy—hand to mouth domesticity mixed up +with the work by which the young man earned, or tried to earn, his +living. No signs of a woman's neatness and touches of decoration could +be seen.</p> + +<p>Lavinia's glances went to the owner of the garret. After all it was only +he who was of real interest. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> noticed the difficulty he had in +lifting a big folio from the chair. He could hardly use his right arm. +She saw his hollow cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. She +hadn't spent years in the streets amongst the poorest not to know that +his wistful look meant want of food—starvation may be.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down?" he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"This belongs to you," she said, holding out his purse. "I'm so sorry +it's empty."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry too. You haven't spent a farthing on yourself and I meant it +all for you."</p> + +<p>"It was very foolish when you wanted money so badly."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. You wouldn't have been here now if I hadn't given +it you."</p> + +<p>Her eyes lighted up. The same thought had crossed her mind.</p> + +<p>"How did you know I lived here?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"Well I—I opened the other end of the purse and read what was on the +papers inside. It was very wrong. You'll forgive me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'd forgive you anything. You descended upon me like an angel. Not many +young ladies of your station would have had the courage to set foot in +Grub Street."</p> + +<p>A smile trembled on Lavinia's tempting lips.</p> + +<p>"My station? What then do you think is my station?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? I take you to be a lady, madam. I don't want to know +any more."</p> + +<p>At this Lavinia laughed outright. Her clothes were of good quality and +of fashionable cut—the Duchess of Queensberry's maid had seen to +that—her manner and air were those of a lady of quality—thanks to Miss +Pinwell—but apart from these externals what was she? A coffee shop +waitress—a strolling singer—a waif and stray whose mother would not +break her heart if she got her living on the streets!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>When she thought of the bitter truth the laughing face was clouded.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were a lady—a rich one, I mean—for your sake," said she +softly. "You look so ill. You ought to have a doctor."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have a good many things, I daresay, that I haven't got. I +have to do without."</p> + +<p>Her eyes drooped. They remained fixed on a little gold brooch fastening +her cloak. The brooch was the gift of Dorrimore. The wonder was her +mother had not discovered it.</p> + +<p>"I must go. I—I've forgotten something."</p> + +<p>"But you'll come again, wont you?" said he imploringly. "Though to be +sure there's nothing in this hovel to tempt you? Besides, the difference +between us——"</p> + +<p>"Please don't talk nonsense," she broke in. "Yes, I'll come again soon. +I don't know how long I shall be—a couple of hours perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean that?" he cried, joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if nothing happens to prevent me. Good-bye for a while."</p> + +<p>She waved her hand. He caught the tips of her fingers and kissed them. +One bright smile in response and she was gone.</p> + +<p>With her heart fluttering strangely—a fluttering that Dorrimore had +never been able to inspire—Lavinia flew down the staircase and sped +through the streets in the direction of London Bridge.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h4>"YOU'VE A MIGHTY COAXING TONGUE"</h4> + +<p>The shop on London Bridge of Dr. Mountchance, apothecary, astrologer, +dealer in curios and sometimes money lender and usurer, was in its way +picturesque and quaint, but to most tastes would scarcely be called +inviting. Bottles of all shapes and sizes loaded the shelves, mingled +with jars and vases from China, Delft ware from Holland and plates and +dishes from France, which Dr. Mountchance swore were the handiwork of +Palissy, the famous artist-potter. Everything had a thick coating of +dust. Dried skins of birds, animals and hideous reptiles hung from the +walls and ceiling; a couple of skulls grinned mockingly above a doorway +leading into a little room at the rear, and it was difficult to steer +one's way between the old furniture, the iron bound coffers and +miscellaneous articles which crowded the shop.</p> + +<p>In the room behind, chemical apparatus of strange construction was on +one table; packets of herbs were on another; a huge tome lay opened on +the floor, and books were piled on the chairs. The apartment was a +mixture of a laboratory and lumber room. A furnace was in one corner, +retorts, test tubes, crucibles, a huge pestle and mortar, jars, bottles +were on a bench close handy.</p> + +<p>The room was lighted by a window projecting over the Thames, and the +roar of the river rushing through the narrow arches and swirling and +dashing against the stone work never ceased, though it varied in +violence according to wind and tide. The house was a portion of the old +chapel of St. Thomas, long since converted from ecclesiastical +observances to commercial uses.</p> + +<p>Dr. Mountchance, who at this moment was at a table in the centre +examining a silver flagon and muttering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> comments upon it, was a little +man about seventy, with an enormous head and a spare body and short +legs. His face was wrinkled like a piece of wet shrivelled silk and his +skin was the colour of parchment. His eyes, very small and deep-set, +were surmounted by heavy brows once black, now of an iron grey. His +mouth was of prodigious width, the lips thin and straight and his nose +long, narrow and pointed. He wore a dirty wig which was always awry, a +faded mulberry coloured coat, and a frayed velvet waistcoat reaching +halfway down his thighs. His stockings were dirty and hung in bags about +his ankles, his feet were cased in yellow slippers more than half worn +out.</p> + +<p>Dr. Mountchance's hearing was keen. A footfall in the shop, soft as it +was, caused him to look up. He saw a slight girlish figure, her cloak +pulled tightly about her, a pair of bright eyes peering from beneath the +hood.</p> + +<p>The old man gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. Many of his customers were +women but he liked them none the more because of their sex. They +generally came to sell, not to buy, and most of them knew how to drive a +hard bargain. He shuffled into the shop with a scowl on his lined yellow +face.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye want?" he growled.</p> + +<p>Most girls would have been nervous at such a reception. Not so this one.</p> + +<p>"I want to sell this brooch. How much will you give me for it?" said +she, undauntedly.</p> + +<p>"Don't want to buy it. Go somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"I shan't. Too much trouble. Besides, you're going to buy it, dear Dr. +Mountchance."</p> + +<p>The imploring eyes, the beseeching voice, soft and musical, the modest +yet assured manner, were too much for the old man. Unconscious of the +destiny awaiting her, Lavinia was employing the same tenderness of look, +the same captivating pathos of tone as when two years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> later she, as +Polly Peachum, sang "Oh ponder well," and won the heart of the Duke of +Bolton.</p> + +<p>"H'm, h'm," grunted Mountchance, "you pretty witch. Must I humour ye?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you must. You're so kind and always ready to help others."</p> + +<p>The doctor showed his yellow fangs in a ghastly grin that gave a +skull-like look to his dried face.</p> + +<p>"Hold thy wheedling tongue, hussy. This trinket—gold you say?"</p> + +<p>"Try it, you know better than I."</p> + +<p>Dr. Mountchance took the brooch into the inner room, weighed it, tested +the metal and returned to the shop.</p> + +<p>"I can give you no more than the simple value of the gold. 'Tis not +pure—a crown should content ye."</p> + +<p>"Well, it doesn't. Do you take me for a cutpurse? I'm not that sort."</p> + +<p>"How do I know? You use thieves' jargon. Where did you pick it up?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia gave one of her rippling laughs.</p> + +<p>"That's my business and not yours. I tell you it's honestly come by and +I want a guinea for it. You know it's worth five and maybe more. The man +who gave it me—I don't care for him you may like to know—isn't mean. +He'd spend a fortune on me if I'd care to take it but I don't." She +tossed her head disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'tis from your gallant. Aye, men are easily fooled by bright eyes. +Well—well——"</p> + +<p>Lavinia's ingenuous story had its effect. Not a few of Dr. Mountchance's +lady customers preferred money to trinkets and he did a profitable trade +in buying these presents at his own price. Some of these flighty damsels +were haughty and patronising and others were familiar and impudent. The +old man disliked both varieties. Lavinia belonged to neither the first +nor the second. She was thoroughly natural and the humour lurking in her +sparkling eyes was a weapon which few could resist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> Dr. Mountchance +unclasped a leather pouch and extracted a guinea.</p> + +<p>"You've a mighty coaxing tongue, you baggage. Keep it to yourself that I +gave you what you asked, lest my reputation as a fair dealing man be +gone for ever."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may trust me to keep my mouth shut," said Lavinia with mock +gravity.</p> + +<p>A sweeping curtsey and she turned towards the door. At the same moment a +lady cloaked and hooded like herself entered. They stared at each other +as they passed.</p> + +<p>Lavinia recognised Sally Salisbury, though the latter was much more +finely dressed than when they encountered each other outside the +Maidenhead Tavern in St. Giles. Sally was not so sure about Lavinia. The +slim girl was now a woman. She carried herself with an air. She had +exchanged her shabby garments for clothes of a fashionable cut which she +knew how to wear. Still, some chord in Sally's memory was stirred and +she advanced into the shop with a puzzled look on her face.</p> + +<p>Mountchance received his fresh customer obsequiously. He had made a good +deal of money out of Sally; she never brought him anything which was not +valuable and worth buying. Sometimes her treasures were presents from +admirers, sometimes they were the proceeds of highway robberies. The +latter yielded the most profit. The would-be sellers dared not haggle. +They were only too anxious to get rid of their ill-gotten gains.</p> + +<p>The old man bowed Sally Salisbury into his inner room. He knew that the +business which had brought her to him was one that meant privacy. He +ceremoniously placed a chair for her and awaited her pleasure.</p> + +<p>The lady was in no hurry. She caught sight of the gold brooch lying on +the table, took it up and examined it. On the back was graven "A.D. to +Lavinia." Sally's dark arched eyebrows contracted.</p> + +<p>"Lavinia," she thought. "So it <i>was</i> that little squalling cat. I hate +her. She's tumbled on her feet—like all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> cats. But for the letters I'd +say she'd flung herself at the head of <i>my</i> man."</p> + +<p>Sally was thinking of her encounter with Lavinia outside the Maiden Head +tavern. Lancelot Vane was then sitting in the bow window of the +coffee-room. True he was in a drunken sleep but this would make no +difference. Lavinia, Sally decided, was in a fair way to earn her +living, much as Sally herself did—the toy of the bloods of fashion one +day, the companions of highwaymen and bullies the next.</p> + +<p>"Where did the impertinent young madam get her fine clothes and her +quality air if not?" Sally asked herself, and the question was a +reasonable one.</p> + +<p>"Have you brought me ought that I care to look at, Mistress Salisbury?" +broke in the old man impatiently. "You haven't come to buy that paltry +trinket, I'll swear."</p> + +<p>"How do you knew? It takes my fancy. Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"I've had it but five minutes. You passed the girl who sold it me as you +came in. A pretty coaxing wench. She'd make a man pour out his gold at +her feet if she cared to try."</p> + +<p>Sally's lips went pallid with passion and her white nostrils quivered.</p> + +<p>"A common little trull," she burst out. "She should be sent to Bridewell +and soundly whipped. 'Tis little more than six months she was a street +squaller cadging for pence round the boozing kens of St. Giles and Clare +Market. And now—pah! it makes me sick."</p> + +<p>Sally flung the brooch upon the table with such violence it bounced a +foot in the air.</p> + +<p>"Gently—gently, my good Sally," remonstrated Mountchance, "if you must +vent your fury upon anything choose your own property, not mine."</p> + +<p>It was doubtful if the virago heard the request. She was not given to +curbing her temper, and leaning back in the chair, her body rigid, she +beat a tattoo with her high<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>-heeled shoes and clenched her fists till +the knuckles whitened.</p> + +<p>Mountchance had seen hysterical women oft times and was not troubled. He +opened a stoppered bottle and held its rim to the lady's nose. The +moment was well chosen, Sally was in the act of drawing a deep breath, +probably with the intention of relieving her feelings by shrieking +aloud. The ammonia was strong and she inhaled a full dose. She gasped, +she coughed, her eyes streamed, the current of her thoughts changed, she +poured a torrent of unadulterated Billingsgate upon the imperturbable +doctor who busied himself about other matters until Sally should think +fit to regain her senses.</p> + +<p>That time came when after a brief interval of sullenness, accompanied by +much heaving of the bosom and biting of lips she deigned to produce the +pearl necklace, the spoil of Rofflash's highway robbery on the Bath +Road.</p> + +<p>Mountchance looked at the pearls closely and his face became very +serious.</p> + +<p>"The High Toby game I'll take my oath," said he in a low voice. "Such a +bit of plunder as this must be sent abroad. I dursn't attempt to get rid +of it here."</p> + +<p>"That's <i>your</i> business. My business is how much'll you give."</p> + +<p>Dr. Mountchance named a sum ridiculously low so Sally thought. Then +ensued a long haggle which was settled at last by a compromise and Sally +departed.</p> + +<p>As she hurried back to her lodgings in the Borough, Sally was quite +unaware that Rofflash, disguised as a beggar with a black patch over his +eye and a dirty red handkerchief tied over his head in place of his wig, +was stealthily shadowing her.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h4>"YOU WERE BRAVE AND FOUGHT FOR ME"</h4> + +<p>Meanwhile Lavinia was hastening to Grub Street. On her way she bought a +pair of shoes which if not quite in the <i>mode</i> were at least fellows. +She also cleverly talked the shopkeeper into allowing her something on +the discarded odd ones and thereby saved a shilling.</p> + +<p>The girl's old life in roaming about the streets had sharpened her wits. +Adversity had taught her much. It had given her a knowledge of persons +and things denied to those to whom life had always been made easy. She +had had sundry acquaintances among the pretty orange girls who plied +their trade at Drury Lane and the Duke's theatres and had got to know +how useful Dr. Mountchance was in buying presents bestowed upon them by +young bloods flushed with wine, and in other ways. Hence when in want of +money she looked upon her brooch she at once thought of the old man's +shop on London Bridge.</p> + +<p>The taverns in those days were real houses of refreshment. Food could be +had at most of them as well as drink. Still a girl needed some courage +to enter. The men she might meet were ready to make free in far too +familiar a fashion. Lavinia stopped in front of the "Green Dragon" near +the Cripples Gate, but hesitated. Many months had passed since the time +when she would have boldly walked into the galleried inn-yard and asked +for what she wanted. The refining influence of Miss Pinwell's genteel +establishment had made her loathe the low life in which her early years +had been passed.</p> + +<p>"They can't eat me," she thought. "Besides, the poor fellow is +starving."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>The place was fairly quiet. One or two men of a group drinking and +gossipping winked at each other when they caught sight of her pretty +face, but they said nothing and she got what she asked for, a cold +chicken, bread and a bottle of wine.</p> + +<p>Lavinia hastened to Grub Street. She ran up the dirty narrow ricketty +stairs, her heart palpitating with excitement, and she knocked at the +garret door. It was opened immediately, Lancelot Vane stood in the +doorway, his fine eyes beaming. He looked very handsome, Lavinia +thought, and she blushed under his ardent gaze.</p> + +<p>He had washed, he had shaved, he had put on his best suit and his wig +concealed the cut on his forehead. He was altogether a different +Lancelot from the bedraggled, woe-begone, haggard young man whom she had +found in the last stage of misery two hours ago. He had moreover, +enlisted the help of the old woman whom Lavinia had met on the stairs at +her first visit and the place was swept and tidied. The room as well as +its occupant was now quite presentable.</p> + +<p>"I've brought you something to eat," stammered Lavinia quite shyly to +her own surprise. "You don't mind, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you'll do me the honour to share it with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it will give you so much trouble. And I'm not hungry. I bought +it all for you."</p> + +<p>Lavinia was busy emptying the contents of a rush basket which the +good-natured landlord of the "Green Dragon" had given her.</p> + +<p>"Have you a plate and a knife and fork? You can't eat with your fingers, +you know."</p> + +<p>"I've two plates and two knives and forks, but the knives are not pairs. +I apologise humbly for my poverty stricken household."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. I'm not going to touch a morsel."</p> + +<p>"Neither am I then. And it isn't my hospitality,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> remember, but yours. +Why are you such a good Samaritan?"</p> + +<p>"You were brave and fought for me. I shall never forget last +night—never."</p> + +<p>"It will always be in my memory too, and I want our first meal together +to be in my memory also. Alas! I have no tablecloth."</p> + +<p>"But you have plenty of paper," Lavinia laughingly said. "That will do +as well."</p> + +<p>Lancelot laughed in unison and seizing a couple of sheets of foolscap he +opened and spread them on the table.</p> + +<p>"One for you and one for me, but you see I've put them together," said +he with a roguish gleam in his eye.</p> + +<p>"No, they must be separate."</p> + +<p>But he had his way.</p> + +<p>Soon the banquet was ready and it delighted Lavinia to see how +ravenously the young man ate. At the same time it pained her for it told +of days of privation. Before long they were perfectly at ease and +merrily chatting about nothing in particular, under some circumstances +the best kind of talk. Suddenly he said:</p> + +<p>"I'm wondering where my next meal is to come from. I can't expect an +angel to visit me every day."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will be a raven. Didn't ravens feed Elijah?" said Lavinia +mockingly.</p> + +<p>"I believe so, but I'm not Elijah. I'm not even a prophet. I'm only a +poor scribbler."</p> + +<p>"You write plays, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I've written one but I'm afraid it's poor stuff. I meant to show it to +Mr. Gay the great poet. I was told he was often to be found at the +Maiden Head in St. Giles, but unluckily I was persuaded by some friends +to see Jack Sheppard's last exploit at Tyburn. I drank too much—I own +it to my shame—and when I reached the inn where I hoped to see Mr. Gay +I fell dead asleep and never saw him. He had gone when I awoke."</p> + +<p>Lavinia clasped her hands. A shadow passed over her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> bright face leaving +it sad and pensive. The red mobile lips were tremulous and the eyes +moist and shining. She now knew why Lancelot Vane's features had seemed +so familiar to her. But not for worlds would she let him know she had +seen him in his degradation.</p> + +<p>Besides she too had memories of that day she would like to forget—save +the remembrance of her meeting with Gay and his kindness to her, a +kindness which she felt she had repaid with folly and ingratitude.</p> + +<p>"Then you know Mr. Gay?" said she presently.</p> + +<p>"I was introduced to him by Spiller the actor one night at the Lamb and +Flag, Clare Market—I'll warrant you don't know Clare Market; 'tis a +dirty greasy ill-smelling place where everyone seems to be a +butcher——"</p> + +<p>Lavinia said nothing. She knew Clare Market perfectly well.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gay was good enough to look at some poems I had with me. He praised +them and I told him I'd written a play and he said he would like to see +it. And then—but you know what happened. I feel I daren't face him +again after disgracing myself so. What must he think of me?"</p> + +<p>"He'll forgive you," cried Lavinia enthusiastically. "He's the dearest, +the kindest, the most generous hearted man in the world. He is my best +friend and——"</p> + +<p>She stopped. She was on the point of plunging into her history and there +was no necessity for doing this. She had not said a word to Lancelot +Vane about herself and she did not intend to do so. He must think what +he pleased about the adventure which had brought them together. He must +have seen her leap from Dorrimore's carriage—nay, he may have caught +sight of Dorrimore himself. Then there was the ruffian of a coachman who +had pursued her. The reason of the fellow's anxiety to capture her must +have puzzled Vane. Well, it must continue to puzzle him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gay your friend?" returned Vane with a pang of envy. "Ah, then, +you're indeed fortunate. I—you've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> been such a benefactor to me, madam, +that I hesitate to ask another favour of you."</p> + +<p>All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an +equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was +a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest +work, "The Fables," was being talked about at Button's, at Wills', at +every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the +world of fashion and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the +assured manner of one, he thought.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help +you," said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young +man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he exclaimed eagerly. "I would ask you if you have +sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse +you nothing. Nobody could."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is very sad," said Lavinia shaking her head. "I'm afraid, Mr. +Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of +no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to +trust it to me."</p> + +<p>"Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of. +But—where's this play of yours? May I look at it?"</p> + +<p>"It would be the greatest honour you could confer upon me. I would +dearly love to have your opinion," he cried, his face flushing.</p> + +<p>"My opinion isn't worth a button, but all the same the play would +interest me I'm sure."</p> + +<p>He went to a bureau and took from one of the drawers a manuscript neatly +stitched together.</p> + +<p>"I've copied it out fairly and I don't think you'll have much difficulty +in deciphering the writing."</p> + +<p>Lavinia took the manuscript and glanced at the inscrip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>tion on the first +page. It ran "Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot +Vane."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a tragedy," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He read the look of dismay that crept over her face and his heart fell.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But the real tragic part doesn't come until the very last part of +the fifth act."</p> + +<p>"And what happens then?"</p> + +<p>"The lovers both die. They do not find out how much they love each other +until it is too late for them to be united, so Stephen kills Amanda and +then kills himself."</p> + +<p>"How terribly sad. But wasn't there any other way? Why couldn't you have +made them happy?"</p> + +<p>"Then it wouldn't have been a tragedy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But what prevented them marrying?"</p> + +<p>"Amanda, not knowing Stephen loved her, had married another man whom she +didn't care for."</p> + +<p>"I see. There was a husband in the way. Still it would have been wiser +for her to have left him and run away with Stephen. It certainly would +have been more in the mode."</p> + +<p>"Not on the stage. People like to see a play that makes them cry. How +they weep over the sorrows of Almeria in Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning +Bride!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, so I've heard. I've never seen the play. The title frightens me. I +don't like the notion of a mourning bride."</p> + +<p>"Not in real life I grant you. But on the stage it's different. I'm +sorry you don't care for my tragedy," he went on disappointedly.</p> + +<p>"I never said that. How could I when I haven't read a line? That's very +unjust of you."</p> + +<p>"I humbly crave forgiveness. Nothing was further from my thoughts than +to accuse you of being unjust. I ought to have said that you didn't care +for tragedies, and if so mine would be included. Pray pardon me."</p> + +<p>"How serious! You haven't offended me a bit. After<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> all it isn't what I +think of your play that's of any consequence. It's what Mr. Gay thinks +and I'll do my best to take it to him."</p> + +<p>"You will? Madam, you've made me the happiest of mortals. Let me wrap up +my poor attempt at play writing."</p> + +<p>"Why do you call it poor? And am I not to read it?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Not a line. You would think it tedious. I'll wait for Mr. Gay's +opinion, and if that's favourable I would like with your permission to +introduce a part for you."</p> + +<p>"What, in a tragedy? I can't see myself trying to make people weep."</p> + +<p>"But it wouldn't be a tragic part. While we've been talking it has +occurred to me that the play would be improved by a little comedy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," rejoined Lavinia eagerly, "by a character something like Cherry +in the 'Beaux Stratagem?'"</p> + +<p>"H'm," rejoined Vane. "Not quite so broad and vivacious as Cherry. That +would be out of keeping."</p> + +<p>"I'd dearly love to play Cherry," said Lavinia meditatively.</p> + +<p>"You'd be admirable I doubt not, but——"</p> + +<p>"Would the part you'd introduce have a song in it?"</p> + +<p>"H'm," coughed the dramatist again. "Hardly. There are no songs in +tragedies."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why there shouldn't be. I love singing. When I'm an actress +I must have songs. Mr. Gay says so."</p> + +<p>"Then you've not been on the stage?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I hope I shall be soon. I dream of nothing else."</p> + +<p>Vane looked at her inquiringly. To his mind the girl seemed made for +love. Surely a love affair must have been the cause of the escapade on +London Bridge. How came she to be alone with a gallant in his carriage +at that time of night? But he dared not put any questions to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> Her +love affairs were nothing to him—so he tried to persuade himself.</p> + +<p>He was now busy in tying up the manuscript in a sheet of paper and +Lavinia was thinking hard.</p> + +<p>The question was, what was to become of her? She had no home, for she +had made up her mind she would not go back to her mother and Miss +Pinwell was equally impossible. This impeccable spinster would never +condone such an offence as that of which she had been guilty. Neither +did Lavinia wish the compromising affair to be known in the school and +talked about. She felt she had left conventional schooling for ever and +she yearned to go back to life—but not the same life in which her early +years had been passed.</p> + +<p>Another worry was her shortness of money. She had but a trifle left out +of the guinea her brooch had fetched. In the old days she could have +soon earned a shilling or two by singing outside and inside taverns. But +what she had done as a beggar maid could not be thought of in her fine +clothes. And during the last six months, with good food, regular hours +and systematic drilling, she had shot up half a head. She was a grown +woman, and she felt instinctively that as such and with the winsome face +Nature had bestowed upon her, singing outside taverns would be +considered by men as a blind for something else. In addition she looked +back upon her former occupation with loathing. It could not be denied +that she was in an awkward plight.</p> + +<p>She was so absorbed that she did not hear Vane who finished tieing up +the packet speaking to her. Suddenly she became aware of his voice and +she turned to him in some confusion.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. You were saying——"</p> + +<p>"Pardon my presumption, I was asking whether I might have the privilege +of knowing your name."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Lavinia Fenton. But that's all I can tell you. You mustn't ask +where I live."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm not curious. I'm quite contented with what you choose to let me +know."</p> + +<p>"And with that little are you quite sure you'll trust me with your play? +Suppose I lose it or am robbed?"</p> + +<p>"I must take my chance. I've a rough draft of the whole and also all the +parts written out separately. I wouldn't think of doubting you. But do +you know where to find Mr. Gay?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. He lives at the house of his friend, Her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry."</p> + +<p>"That is so," rejoined Vane in a tone of evident relief. Her answer +convinced him that what she said about knowing Gay was true.</p> + +<p>"I can only promise to deliver it to him and if possible place it in his +own hands. Do you believe me?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do. And will you see me again and bring me an answer?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said she smilingly.</p> + +<p>He insisted upon attending her down the staircase and when they were in +the dark passage down below they bade each other adieu, he kissing her +extended hand with a courteous bow which became him well.</p> + +<p>Vane watched her thread her way along poverty-stricken Grub Street, and +slowly ascended the staircase to his garret sighing deeply.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h4>IN THE CHAPTER COFFEE HOUSE</h4> + +<p>It was nearly six o'clock when Lavinia stood on the broad steps of +Queensberry House behind Burlington Gardens. Now that she was staring at +the big door between the high railings with their funnel shaped link +extinguishers pointing downward at her on either side her courage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +seemed to be slipping from her. The grotesque faces supporting the +triangular portico seemed to be mocking her, the enormous knocker +transformed itself into a formidable obstacle.</p> + +<p>The adventures of the last forty-eight hours had suddenly presented +themselves to the girl's mind in all their enormity. It occurred to her +for the first time that she had not only thrown away the chance of her +life, but that she had been guilty of black ingratitude to her +benefactors. And her folly in permitting the fancy to rove towards +Archibald Dorrimore, for whose foppishness she had a contempt, simply +because he was rich! The recollection of this caused her the bitterest +pang of all.</p> + +<p>How could she justify her conduct to Mr. Gay! Would he not look upon her +as a light o' love ready to bestow smiles upon any man who flattered +her? Well, she wouldn't attempt to justify herself. Mr. Gay was a poet. +He would understand. But the terrible duchess—Kitty of Queensberry who +feared nothing and in the plainest of terms, if she was so minded, +expressed her opinion on everything! Lavinia quaked in her shoes at the +thought of meeting the high-born uncompromising dame.</p> + +<p>"But I've promised the poor fellow. I <i>must</i> keep my word. I don't care +a bit about myself if I can do that," she murmured.</p> + +<p>Lavinia had a sudden heartening, and lest the feeling should slacken she +seized the heavy bell-pull and gave it a violent tug.</p> + +<p>The door was opened almost immediately by a fat hall porter who scowled +when he saw a girl instead of the footman of a fine lady in her chair.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye want? A-ringing the bell like that one would think you was my +Lord Mayor."</p> + +<p>"I'm neither the Lord Mayor nor the Lady Mayoress, as your own eyes +ought to tell you. I wish to see Mr. Gay."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, you can't," said the porter gruffly. "He's not here. He's staying +with Mr. Pope at Twitnam."</p> + +<p>"Twitnam? Where is Twitnam?"</p> + +<p>"Up the river."</p> + +<p>"How far? Can I walk there?"</p> + +<p>"May be, but you hadn't better go on foot. It's a goodish step—ten or a +dozen miles. You might go by waggon, there isn't no other way save toe +and heel. An' let me give you warning, young 'oman, the roads aren't +safe after dark. D'rectly you get to Knightsbridge footpads is ten a +penny, let alone 'ighwaymen. Not that you're <i>their</i> game—leastways by +the looks o' you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I'm not afraid, but you mean your advice kindly and I'll not +forget it. Mr. Gay's at Mr. Pope's house you say?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pope's villa—he calls it. Mr. Pope's the great writer."</p> + +<p>"I've heard of him. Which is the way after I've left Knightsbridge?"</p> + +<p>"Why, straight along. Don't 'ee turn nayther to the right or the left, +Kensington—'Ammersmith—Turn'am Green—Brentford—you goes through 'em +all, if you don't get a knock on the 'ead on the way or a bullet through +ye. One's as likely to 'appen as the other. I wouldn't answer fer your +getting safe and sound to Twitnam unless you goes by daylight."</p> + +<p>"That's what I must do then," said Lavinia resignedly. "Thank you +kindly."</p> + +<p>"You're welcome, I hope as how that pretty face o' yours won't get ye +into trouble. It's mighty temptin'. I'd like a kiss myself."</p> + +<p>"Would you? Then you won't have one. As for my face, I haven't any other +so I must put up with it."</p> + +<p>Dropping a curtsey of mock politeness Lavinia hastened away and did not +slacken her pace till she reached Piccadilly and was facing the large +open space now known as the Green Park.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a lovely evening and the western sun though beginning to descend, +still shone brightly. The long grass invited repose and Lavinia sat down +on a gentle hillock to think what her next step must be.</p> + +<p>She was greatly disappointed at not finding Mr. Gay. She was sure he +would have forgiven her escapade; he would have helped her over the two +difficulties facing her—very little money and no shelter for the night. +Of the two the latter was most to be dreaded.</p> + +<p>"A year ago," she thought, "it wouldn't have mattered very much. The +Covent Garden women and men from the country are kind-hearted. I'd have +had a corner in a waggon and some hay to lie upon without any bother, +and breakfast the next morning into the bargain. But now—in these +clothes—what would they take me for?"</p> + +<p>These reflections, all the same, wouldn't solve the problem which was +troubling her and it <i>had</i> to be solved. She must either walk about the +streets or brave the tempest of her mother's wrath. This wrath, however, +didn't frighten her so much as the prospect of being again made a +prisoner. Her mother, she felt sure, had some deep design concerning +her, though what it was she could not conceive.</p> + +<p>Tired of pondering over herself and her embarrassing situation Lavinia +turned her mind to something far more agreeable—her promise to Lancelot +Vane which of course meant thinking about Vane himself.</p> + +<p>She couldn't help contrasting Vane with Dorrimore. She hated to remember +having listened seriously to the latter's flatteries. By the light of +what had happened it seemed now to her perfectly monstrous that she +could ever have consented to marry him. It angered her when she thought +of it—but her anger was directed more against herself than against +Dorrimore.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to go back to Mr. Vane. He'll be waiting anxiously to +know how I've fared, but no—I'll go to Twitenham first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>She sat for some time watching the sunset. She wove fanciful dreams in +which the pallid face and large gleaming eyes of the young poet were +strangely involved. With what courtly grace and reverence he had kissed +her hand! Vane was a gentleman by nature; Dorrimore merely called +himself one and what was more boasted of it.</p> + +<p>But what did it matter to her? Vane had done her a service and it was +only right she should repay him in some sort. This was how she tried to +sum up the position. Whether Mr. Gay befriended him or not, their +acquaintance would have to cease. He was penniless and so was she. If +she confessed as much as this to him he would be embarrassed and +distressed because he could not help her.</p> + +<p>"I dursn't tell him," she sighed. "I'll have to do something for myself. +Oh, if I could only earn some money by singing! I would love it. Not in +the streets though. No, I could never do that again. Never!"</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands tightly and her face became sad. Then her thoughts +went back to Vane and she pictured him in his lonely garret perhaps +dreaming of the glorious future awaiting him if his tragedy was a +success, or perhaps he was dejected. After so many disappointments what +ground had he for hope? Lavinia longed to whisper in his ear words of +encouragement. She had treasured that look when his face lighted up at +something she had said that had pleased him. And his sadness she +remembered too. She was really inclined to think she liked him better +when he was sad than when he was joyful. But this was because she +gloried in chasing that sadness away. It was a tribute to her power of +witchery.</p> + +<p>Dusk was creeping on. She must not remain longer in that solitary +expanse. She rose and sped towards Charing Cross. In the Strand citizens +and their wives, apprentices and their lasses were taking the air. The +scraps of talk, the laughter, gave her a sense of security. But the +problem of how to pass the night was still before her. She dared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> not +linger to think it out. She must go on. Young gallants gorgeously +arrayed were swaggering arm in arm in pursuit of adventure, in plain +words in pursuit of women, the prettier the better. Lavinia had +scornfully repelled the advances of more than one and to loiter would +but invite further unwelcome attention.</p> + +<p>The night was come but fortunately the sky was clear, for the Strand was +ill lighted. St. Mary's Church, not long since consecrated, St. +Clement's Church, loomed large and shadowy in the narrow roadway, +narrowing still more towards Temple Bar past the ill-favoured and +unsavoury Butcher's Row on the north side of the street, where the +houses of rotting plaster and timber with overhanging storeys frowned +upon the passer-by and suggested deeds of violence and robbery.</p> + +<p>Butcher's Row and its evil reputation, even the ruffians and dissolute +men lurking in the deep doorways did not frighten Lavinia so much as the +silk-coated and bewigged cavaliers. The days of the Mohocks were gone it +was true, but lawlessness still remained.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was perfectly conscious that she was being followed by a spark +of this class. She did not dare look round lest he should think she +encouraged him, but she knew all the same that he was keeping on her +heels. Along Fleet Street he kept close to her and on Ludgate Bridge +where the traffic was blocked by the crowd gazing into the Fleet river +at some urchin's paddling in the muddy stream he spoke to her. She +hadn't the least idea what he said, she was too terrified.</p> + +<p>In the darkness of St. Paul's Churchyard she had the good luck to avoid +him and she darted into Paternoster Row, and took shelter in a deep +doorway. Either he had not noticed the way she went or he had given up +the chase, for she saw no more of him.</p> + +<p>The doorway in which she had sought refuge was a kind of lobby with an +inner door covered with green baize. From the other side came the sound +of loud talking and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> laughter, and the clinking of glasses. It was the +Chapter Coffee House, the meeting place of booksellers, authors who had +made their names, and struggling scribblers hanging on to the skirts of +the muses.</p> + +<p>The air was close. Inside the revellers may have found it insufferable. +The door was suddenly opened and fastened back by one of the servants. +The man looked inquiringly at the shrinking figure in the lobby. +Evidently she was not a beggar and he said nothing.</p> + +<p>Lavinia glanced inside from no feeling other than that of curiosity. At +the same time she was reluctant to leave the protection of the house +until she was sure her persecutor was not lurking near.</p> + +<p>The candles cast a lurid yellowish light; the shadows were deep; only +the faces of those nearest the flame could be clearly distinguished. One +table was surrounded by a boisterous group in the centre of which was a +fat man in a frowsy wig. He had a malicious glint in his squinting eyes +and was evidently of some importance. When he spoke the others listened +with respect.</p> + +<p>This pompous personage was Edmund Curll, bookseller, whose coarse and +infamous publications once brought him within the law. Curll, we are +told, possessed himself of a command over all authors whatever; he +caused them to write what he pleased; they could not call their very +names their own. Curll was the deadly enemy of Pope and his friends, and +his unlimited scurrility drew from the poet of Twickenham a retaliation +every whit as coarse and as biting as anything the bookseller's warped +mind ever conceived.</p> + +<p>Had Lavinia been told this was the notorious Curll, the name would have +conveyed nothing. The quarrels of poets and publishers were to her a +sealed book. All that she knew was that she disliked the man at first +sight, while his vile speech made her ears tingle with shame. Despite +the danger possibly awaiting her in the gloom of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> Paternoster Row she +would have fled had not the sight of one of the group at the table +rooted her to the spot.</p> + +<p>This was Lancelot Vane whom her maiden fancy had elevated into a god +endowed with all the virtues and laden with misfortunes which had so +drawn him towards her. Vane—alas that it should have to be written—had +taken much wine—far too much!</p> + +<p>Lavinia knew the signs. Often in the old days in St. Giles had she seen +them—the eyes unnaturally bright, the face unnaturally flushed, the +laugh unnaturally empty. And she had pictured Vane so sad, so depressed! +The sight of him thus came upon her as a shock.</p> + +<p>At first she was angry and then full of excuses for him. It was not his +fault, she argued, but that of his companions and especially of the +squint-eyed, foul-tongued man who no sooner saw that the bottle was +getting low than he ordered another one.</p> + +<p>What could she do to help him? Nothing. He was out of her reach. She +remembered how he looked when she first saw him at the Maiden Head inn. +He would probably look like that again before the night was ended. She +could not bear to gaze upon him as he was now and she crept away with +the old wives' words in her mind—Providence looks after drunken men and +babes.</p> + +<p>She stole from the lobby sad at heart. She had no longer the courage to +face the dangers of the street. The deep shadow of great St. Paul's, +sacred building though it was, afforded her no protection; it spoke +rather of cut-throats, footpads, ruffians ready for any outrage. The din +of voices, the sounds of brawling reached her from Cheapside. The London +'prentices let loose from toil and routine were out for boisterous +enjoyment and may be devilry. She dared not go further eastward.</p> + +<p>The only goal of safety she could think of was the coffee house in the +Old Bailey. Why should she be afraid of her mother?</p> + +<p>"She won't lock me up again. I'll take good care of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> that. I suppose she +thinks I'm still a child. Mother's mistaken as she'll find out."</p> + +<p>So she wheeled round and went back to Ludgate Hill, keeping close to the +houses so that she should not attract attention.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h4>LAVINIA'S PILGRIMAGE</h4> + +<p>It was past nine when Lavinia turned into the Old Bailey. The chief +trade done by the coffee house was in the early morning. After market +hours there were few customers save when there was to be an execution at +Tyburn the next morning, and those eager to secure a good sight of the +ghastly procession and perhaps take part in it, assembled opposite the +prison door over night. Mrs. Fenton in the evenings thought no more of +business, but betook herself to the theatre or one of the pleasure +gardens in the outskirts of London.</p> + +<p>Lavinia remembered this and hoped for the best. At such a time Mrs. +Fenton with her love of pleasure would hardly stay at home.</p> + +<p>Lavinia hurried past grim Newgate and crossed the road. The coffee house +was on the other side. Hannah was standing in the doorway in a cruciform +attitude, her arms stretched out, each hand grasping the frame on either +side. She was gossipping with a man and laughing heartily. Lavinia +decided that her mother must be out. If at home she would never allow +Hannah this liberty. Lavinia glided to the woman and touched one of the +outstretched hands. Hannah gave a little "squark" when she felt the +girl's cold fingers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's only me Hannah," whispered Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"Only me—an' who's me?... Bless us an' save us child, what do you go +about like a churchyard ghost for? Where in 'eaven's name have ye sprung +from? I never come across anybody like you, Miss Lavvy, for a worryin' +other people. I've been a-crying my eyes out over ye."</p> + +<p>"And mother, has she been crying too?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother? Not she," returned Hannah with a sniff of contempt. "Catch +her a-cryin' over anything 'cept when she hasn't won a prize in a +lottery. But come you in. I've ever so much to tell you. You'd best be +off Reuben. I'll see you later."</p> + +<p>Reuben who was one of the men employed at Coupland's soap works in the +Old Bailey, looked a little disappointed, but he obeyed nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"You've given us a pretty fright and your lady mother's been in a mighty +tantrum. I tell you it's a wonder as she didn't tear my eyes out. She +swore as it was all my fault a lettin' you go. But what have you come +back for?"</p> + +<p>"I had to. But don't bother, it's only for a few hours. Mother's out I +know."</p> + +<p>"Course she is. Simpson the cattle dealer's a-beauing her to Marybone +Gardens. They won't be back this side o' midnight. Now just tell me what +you been a-doin' of. You're a pretty bag o' mischief if ever there was +one. Who's the man this time? T'aint the one as you runned away with, is +it?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," cried Lavinia, indignantly. "I don't want ever to see him +again."</p> + +<p>"Well, your mother does," returned Hannah with an odd kind of laugh.</p> + +<p>"Whatever for?"</p> + +<p>"I'll let you have the story d'rectly, but you tell me your tale first."</p> + +<p>By this time they were in the shop and Hannah caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> sight of Lavinia's +white, drawn face and her tear-swollen eyes.</p> + +<p>"You poor baby. What's your fresh troubles?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—that is, not much. I'm tired. I'm faint. Give me some +coffee—cocoa—anything."</p> + +<p>Faint indeed she was. At that meal with Lancelot Vane she had eaten very +sparingly. She was too excited, too much absorbed and interested in +seeing him so ravenous to think of herself. In addition she had gone +through much fatigue.</p> + +<p>"Coffee—cocoa—to be sure," cried the kindly Hannah, "an' a hot +buttered cake besides. You shan't say a word till I've gotten them +ready."</p> + +<p>The cook had gone. There was no one in the house save Hannah. The two +went into the kitchen where the fire was burning low—with the aid of +the bellows Hannah soon fanned the embers into a flame and she was not +happy until Lavinia had eaten and drank.</p> + +<p>Then Lavinia told the story of her adventures, hesitatingly at first and +afterwards with more confidence seeing that Hannah sympathised and did +not chide or ridicule.</p> + +<p>"An' do 'ee mean to tell me you're going to Twitenham to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia nodded.</p> + +<p>"What, over a worthless young man who gets drunk at the first chance he +has?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia fired up.</p> + +<p>"He's not worthless and he wasn't drunk."</p> + +<p>"Hoity-toity. What a pother to be sure. Well, I'll warrant he is by this +time."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? If he is it won't be his fault. The others were +drinking and filling his glass. I saw them, the wretches," cried Lavinia +with heightened colour. "But it is nothing to me," she went on tossing +her head. "Why should I bother if a man drinks or doesn't drink?"</p> + +<p>"Why indeed," said Hannah ironically. "Since you don't care we needn't +talk about him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, we won't, if you've only unkind things to say."</p> + +<p>"Eh, would you have me tell you how well you've behaved and how good you +are? First you run away to be married to a man you don't care for, and +in the next breath you take no end of trouble and tire yourself to death +over another man you say you don't care for either. Are you going +through your life like that—men loving you and you leaving them?"</p> + +<p>"You're talking nonsense, Hannah. You know nothing about it," cried +Lavinia angrily. "Let me manage my own affairs my own way and tell me +what mother's doing. You read me a riddle about her just now."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't much of a riddle. It's just what one might guess she'd do when +she's on the scent for money. You've become mighty valuable to her all +of a sudden."</p> + +<p>"I! Valuable? Oh la! That's too funny."</p> + +<p>"You think so, do you child? Wait till you hear. <i>I</i> call it a monstrous +shame an' downright wicked. A mother sell her own child! It's +horrible—horrible."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, you tiresome Hannah?" cried the girl +opening her eyes very wide.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you may well ask. After you was locked up she pocketted that letter +from your spark and off she went to his lodgings in the Temple. She well +plied herself with cordials an' a drop o' gin or two afore she started, +an' my name's not Hannah if she didn't repeat the dose as she came back. +I knowed it at once by her red face an' her tongue a-wagging nineteen to +the dozen. She can't keep her mouth shut when she's like that. It all +comed out. She'd been to that Mr. Der—Dor—what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Dorrimore. Yes—yes. Go on. I want to hear," exclaimed Lavinia +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ha' said a word agen her if she'd insisted upon the fine +young gentleman paying for his frolic a trying to fool you—which he +didn't do an' you may thank yourself for your sperrit Miss Lavvy—that +was only what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> a mother ought to do, but to sell her own child to make +money out of her own flesh an' blood—well I up an' told her to her face +what I thought of her."</p> + +<p>"Make money out of <i>me</i>, good gracious Hannah, how?"</p> + +<p>"The fellow offered her fifty guineas if she'd hand you over to him. He +swore he'd make a lady of you."</p> + +<p>"What! Marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Marry you! Tilly vally, no such thing. He'd spend money on you—fine +dresses, trinkets, fallals and all that, but a wedding ring, the +parson—not a bit of it. An' when he tired of you he'd fling you away +like an old glove."</p> + +<p>"Would he?" cried Lavinia indignantly. "Then he won't."</p> + +<p>"No, but it means a tussle with your mother. What a tantrum she went in +to be sure when she found you was gone. She fell upon poor me an' called +me all the foul names she could lay her tongue to. Look at these."</p> + +<p>Hannah pushed back her cap and her hair and showed four angry red +streaks down the side of her face. Mrs. Fenton had long nails and knew +how to use them.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was horrified. Throwing her arms round the honest creature's +neck she kissed her again and again. Then she exclaimed despairingly:—</p> + +<p>"What am I do to do to-night? I dursn't stay here."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure about that. I'm thinking it can be managed. Your +mother's gone to Marybone Gardens with Dawson, the Romford cattle +dealer. They won't be home till latish an' I'll go bail as full o' +strong waters as they can carry. It's not market day to-morrow and your +mother'll lie in bed till noon. You can share my bed an' I'll let 'ee +out long afore the mistress wakes."</p> + +<p>"Oh thank you—thank you Hannah. How clever you are to think of all +this."</p> + +<p>"Not much cleverness either. Trust a woman for finding out a way when +love's hanging on it."</p> + +<p>"Love?" rapped out Lavinia sharply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aye, it's love as is taking you to Twitenham with the young man's +rubbishy play."</p> + +<p>"You've not read it, Hannah. It's not fair to call it rubbishy."</p> + +<p>"Not read it, no, nor never shall, and may be I'll never see it acted +either. But I hope it will be, Lavinia, for your sake. But take care, +it's ill falling in love with a man who's fond of his cups."</p> + +<p>Lavinia made no reply. Her face had suddenly gone grave.</p> + +<p>Hannah ceased to tease her and bustled about to get supper—something +warm and comforting, stewed rabbit and toasted cheese to follow.</p> + +<p>The bedroom shared by Lavinia and Hannah was in the front of the house. +About two o'clock both were awakened by the champing of a horse and the +squeaking and scraping of wheels followed by a loud wrangling in a deep +bass growl and a shrill treble.</p> + +<p>"That's the mistress—drat her," grumbled Hannah from under the +coverlet. "She's a-beatin' down the coachman. She always does it."</p> + +<p>The hubbub was ended, and not altogether to the satisfaction of the +hackney coachman judging by the way he banged his door. Mrs. Fenton +stumbled up the stairs to her room rating the extortion of drivers, and +after a time all was silence.</p> + +<p>Daylight was in the room when Lavinia awoke. She slipped quietly out of +bed not wanting to disturb Hannah, but the latter was a light sleeper.</p> + +<p>"Don't you get up," said Lavinia. "I can dress and let myself out +without bothering you."</p> + +<p>"What, an' go into the early morning air wi'out a bite or sup inside +you? I'm not brute beast enough to let you do that."</p> + +<p>And Hannah bounced out of bed bringing her feet down with a thump which +must have awakened Mrs. Fenton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> in the room below had the lady been in a +normal condition, which fortunately was not the case.</p> + +<p>Within half an hour the two stole out of the house, and on reaching the +Ludgate Hill end of the Old Bailey turned eastwards. Their destination +was the Stocks Market occupying the site where the present Mansion House +stands. The Stocks Market was the principal market in London at that +time, Fleet Market was not in existence and Covent Garden, then mainly a +fashionable residential quarter, was only in its infancy as to the sale +of fruit and vegetables.</p> + +<p>But the Stocks Market eastwards of St. Paul's was not in the direction +of Twickenham, or Twitenham as it was then called. Why then were Lavinia +and Hannah wending their way thither?</p> + +<p>It was in this wise. Hannah was quick witted and fertile in resources. +Moreover she was a native of Mortlake, then surrounded by fruit growing +market gardens and especially celebrated for its plums, the fame of +which for flavour and colour and size has not quite died out in the +present day. Hannah had had her sweethearting days along by the +riverside and in pleasant strolls on Sheen Common, and not a few of her +swains cherished tender recollections of her fascinating coquetry. She +knew very well she would find some old admirer at the Stocks Market who +for auld lang syne would willingly give Lavinia a seat in his covered +cart returning to Mortlake with empty baskets. And Mortlake of course, +is no very long distance from Twickenham.</p> + +<p>So it came about. The clock of St. Christopher le Stocks struck five as +the two young women entered the market. The Bank of England as we now +know it did not then exist. St. Christopher's, hemmed in by houses, +occupied the site of the future edifice, as much in appearance like a +prison as a bank. Sir Thomas Gresham's Exchange then alone dominated the +open space at the entrance of the Poultry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>The market was in full swing. Shopkeepers, hucksters and early risen +housewives keen on buying first hand and so saving pennies were +bargaining at the various stalls. Hannah went about those set apart for +fruit and soon spotted some one she knew—a waggoner of honest simple +looks. His mouth expanded into the broadest of grins and he coloured to +his ears when he caught sight of Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Ecod Hannah, my gal, if the sight o' 'ee baint good fur sore eyes. I'm +in luck sure-ly. Fi' minutes more an' 'ee'd ha' found me gone. Dang me +if 'ee baint bonnier than ever."</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee talk silly, Giles Topham. Keep your nonsense for Hester +Roberts."</p> + +<p>"Hester Roberts! What be that flirty hussy to I?" retorted Giles +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"You know best about that, Giles. What be 'ee to me? That's more to the +purpose I'm thinking."</p> + +<p>"I be a lot to 'ee Hannah. Out wi' the truth now, an' tell me if I +baint."</p> + +<p>Lavinia was beginning to feel herself superfluous in the midst of this +rustic billing and cooing, and was moving a few steps off when Hannah +having whispered a few words to Giles which might have been a reproof or +the reverse beckoned to her, and without further ado told her old +sweetheart what she wanted.</p> + +<p>"I'd a sight sooner take 'ee Hannah—meanin' no offence to 'ee miss—but +if it can't be, why——"</p> + +<p>"Of course it can't, you booby. You know that as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"Aye. Some other time may be," rejoined Giles grinning afresh. "So 'ee +be a-goin' to see the great Mr. Pope? 'Ee'll have to cross by the ferry +and 'tis a bit of a walk there from Mortlake but I'll see 'ee safe."</p> + +<p>"I should think you would or I'll never speak to you again."</p> + +<p>Giles gave another of his grins and set to work arranging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> the baskets +in his cart so as to form a seat for Lavinia, and having helped the girl +to mount, bade Hannah adieu, a matter which took some few minutes and +was only terminated by a hearty kiss which Hannah received very +demurely. Then Giles after a crack of his whip started his horse, at the +head of which he marched, and with waving handkerchiefs by Hannah and +Lavinia the cart took the road to London Bridge.</p> + +<p>The nearest way to Mortlake would have been the Middlesex side, crossing +the river at Hammersmith, but Hammersmith Bridge had not been thought of +and the cart had to plod through Lambeth, Vauxhall, Wandsworth, Putney +and Barnes.</p> + +<p>At intervals Giles climbed into the cart and entertained Lavinia with +guileless talk, mainly relating to Hannah and her transcendent virtues. +Nor did he stop at Hannah herself but passed on to her relatives, her +mother who was dead and her grandmother who was ninety and "as hale an' +hearty as you please."</p> + +<p>"A wonnerful old dame she be an' mighty handy with her needle, a'most as +she used to be when she was a girl a-working at the tapestry fact'ry by +the riverside. It were a thunderin' shame as ever the tapestry makin' +was done away with at Mortlake an' taken to Windsor. It was the King's +doin's that was. Not his Majesty King George, but King Charles—long +afore my time, fifty years an' more agone. Lords an' ladies used to come +to Mortlake then I'm told an' buy the wool picture stuff, all hand sewn, +mind ye, to hang on the walls o' their great rooms. Some of it be at +'Ampton Palace this very day."</p> + +<p>Thus and much more Giles went on and Lavinia listened attentively. The +cart rumbled through the narrow main street of Mortlake and reached +Worple way where Giles and his mother lived in a cottage in the midst of +a big plum orchard.</p> + +<p>The old woman was astonished to see a pretty girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> seated in her son's +cart but the matter was soon explained, and she insisted upon Lavinia +having a meal before going on to Twickenham.</p> + +<p>Then Giles volunteered to show Lavinia the way to the ferry, the +starting point of which on the Surrey side was near Petersham Meadows, +and in due time she was landed at Twickenham.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h4>"ARE WORDS THE ONLY SIGNS OF LOVE?"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia easily found her way to Pope's villa. The first man of whom she +inquired knew the house well and guided her to it.</p> + +<p>The house was somewhat squat and what we should now call double fronted. +The back looked on to a garden bordering the river, the front faced a +road on the other side of which was a high wall with a wooded garden +beyond.</p> + +<p>"That be Mr. Pope's house, young madam, an' that be his garden too, +t'other side o' that wall. He be but a feeble shrivelled up whey-faced +little gentleman, thin as a thread paper an' not much taller than you +yourself. I'm told as he baint forty, but lor, he might be ninety by his +looks. We folk in the village don't see much of him an' I doubt if he +wants to see us."</p> + +<p>"Gracious! Why is that? What makes him so unsociable?"</p> + +<p>"He's always ailing, poor gentleman. Why, if ye went by his face he +might have one foot in the grave. When he fust comed to live here he +hated to have to cross the road to get to that there garden t'other +side, so what do'e do but have a way dug under the road. It be a sort +o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> grotto, they say, with all kinds o' coloured stones and glasses +stuck about an' must ha' cost a pile o' money. I s'pose rich folk must +have their whims and vapours an' must gratify 'em too, or what be the +good o' being rich, eh? Thank 'ee kindly young madam."</p> + +<p>Lavinia, upon whom the good Hannah had pressed all the coins that were +in her pocket, gave the man a few coppers and summoning her courage she +grasped the bell-pull hanging by the door in the wall fronting the +house. Her nerves were somewhat scattered and she could not say whether +the clang encouraged or depressed her. May be the latter, for a sudden +desire seized her to run away.</p> + +<p>But before desire had become decision the door in the wall had opened +and a soberly attired man-servant was staring at her inquiringly. +Lavinia regained her courage.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mr. Gay please. I'm told he's staying with Mr. Pope."</p> + +<p>"Aye. What's your business?"</p> + +<p>"That's with Mr. Gay, not with you," rejoined Lavinia sharply.</p> + +<p>The man either disdained to bandy words or had no retort ready. He +admitted the visitor and conducted her into the house. Lavinia found +herself in a small hall, stone paved, with a door on either side. The +hall ran from the front to the back of the house and at the end a door +opened into a wooden latticed porch. Beyond was a picturesque garden and +further still the river shining in the sun. She heard men talking and +apparently disputing. The shrill tones of one voice dominated the rest.</p> + +<p>The servant bade her wait in the hall while he went to Mr. Gay. He did +not trouble to ask her name.</p> + +<p>While he was gone Lavinia advanced to the open door, drawn thither by +curiosity. A garden grateful to the eye was before her. It had not the +grotesque formality of the Dutch style which came over with William of +Orange—the prim beds with here and there patches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> and narrow walks of +red, flat bricks, the box trees cut and trimmed in the form of peacocks +with outstretched tails, animals, anything absurd that the designer +fancied. Close to the river bank drooped a willow, and a wide spreading +cedar overspread a portion of the lawn.</p> + +<p>Underneath the cedar four men were sitting round a table strewn with +papers. Lavinia easily recognised the portly form of her patron, Gay. +Next to him was a diminutive man, his face overspread by the pallor of +ill-health. He was sitting stiff and bolt upright and upon his head in +place of a fashionable flowing wig was a sort of loose cap.</p> + +<p>"That must be Mr. Pope, the queer little gentleman the countryman told +me of," thought Lavinia.</p> + +<p>She saw the servant in a deferential attitude standing for some time +between Mr. Pope and Mr. Gay waiting for an opportunity to announce his +errand. For the moment the discussion was too absorbing for anyone of +the four to pay attention to the man.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rich no high opinion has of either music or musicians," said one of +the disputants, a lean, dried-up looking man who spoke with a strong +guttural accent. This was Dr. Pepusch, musical director at John Rich's +theatre, the "Duke's," Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Pepusch is right," rejoined Gay. "That is why I favoured Cibber. +But from his reception of me I doubt if he'll take the risk of staging +the play."</p> + +<p>"Cibber likes not you, Mr. Gay, and he hates me," said Pope with his +acid smile. "He's a poet—or thinks he's one—and poets love not one +another. Nothing is so blinding to the merits of others as one's own +vanity."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Mr. Pope, is not that assumption too sweeping?" put in the fourth +man, of cheerful, rubicund countenance and, like Gay, inclined to +corpulency. "What about yourself and Mr. Gay? Is there anyone more +conscious of his talents and has done more to foster and encourage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> them +than you? Who spoke and wrote in higher praise of Will Congreve than +John Dryden?"</p> + +<p>"Your argument's just, Arbuthnot," rejoined Pope. "And that's why I +rejoice that the King, his Consort and the Statesman who panders to her +spite and lives only for his own ambition have insulted our friend. +Their taste and their appreciation of letters found their level when +they considered the author of the 'Trivia' and the 'Fables' was +fittingly rewarded by the appointment of 'gentleman usher' to a +princess—a footman's place, forsooth!"</p> + +<p>It was too true. George the First was dead, George the Second had +succeeded and with the change of government Gay hoped to obtain the +"sinecure" which would have kept him in comfort to the end of his days. +He was bitterly disappointed. The post bestowed upon him was a +degradation.</p> + +<p>"Say no more on that head," exclaimed Gay hastily, "I would forget that +affront."</p> + +<p>"But not forgive. We're all of us free to carry the battle into the +enemy's camp and with the more vigour since you are fighting with us, +John Gay. The 'Beggar's Opera'—'tis mainly the Dean's idea—the title +alone is vastly fine—will give you all the chance in the world. Pray do +not forget the Dean's verses he sent you 't'other day. They must be set +to good music, though for my own part I know not one tune from another."</p> + +<p>Snatching a sheet of paper from the table Pope, in his thin, piping +voice, read with much gusto:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"Through all the employments of life</div> +<div class='i1'>Each neighbour abuses his brother,</div> +<div>Trull and rogue they call husband and wife,</div> +<div class='i1'>All professions be-rogue one another.</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div>"The priest calls the lawyer a cheat,</div> +<div class='i1'>The lawyer be-knaves the divine,</div> +<div>And the statesman because he's so great</div> +<div class='i1'>Thinks his trade as honest as mine."</div> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>"Aye; that should go home. Faith, I'd give my gold headed cane to see +Sir Robert's face when he hears those lines," laughed the cheery +physician. "Who will sing them, Mr. Gay?"</p> + +<p>"I know not yet; we've settled upon very few things. Our good musician, +Dr. Pepusch, is ready whenever I hand him the verses and the tunes to +set them to. Why, I've not decided the names of the characters, and that +let me tell you, doctor, is no easy matter. I call the first wench Peggy +Peachum, but it doesn't please me. I——"</p> + +<p>At that moment Pope caught sight of his man fidgetting first on one foot +and then on the other.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye want sirrah?" demanded the poet irritably.</p> + +<p>"A young girl, sir, desires to see Mr. Gay. She couldn't tell me her +business with him."</p> + +<p>A roar of laughter was heard, in the midst of which Gay looked puzzled +and a trifle foolish.</p> + +<p>"Oh poor Gay, to think thy light damsels cannot let thee alone but must +follow thee to my pure Eve-less abode," said Pope mockingly.</p> + +<p>"Nay, 'tis nothing of the kind. You accuse me unjustly. I know no light +o' love. To prove it your servant shall bring the girl here and you may +see her for yourself. I've no love secrets."</p> + +<p>"What if you had, man? No one would blame you. Not I for one. Get as +much enjoyment as you can out of life, but not in excess. 'Tis excess +that kills," said Arbuthnot laying his hand on Gay's.</p> + +<p>There was a meaning in the contact which emphasised the doctor's words. +Self indulgence was Gay's failing as all his friends knew.</p> + +<p>"Well—well," rejoined Gay somewhat embarrassed. "Be it so, I—conduct +the girl hither—have I your permission, Mr. Pope?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart—provided she's worth looking at."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know nothing of her looks. Quick, Stephen, your master and these +gentlemen are impatient."</p> + +<p>The man hastened away to the house and presently was seen crossing the +lawn with Lavinia by his side.</p> + +<p>"'Faith, you've good taste, Mr. Gay," said Arbuthnot with a chuckle. "A +trim built wench, upon my word. And she knows how to walk. She hasn't +the mincing gait of the city madams of the Exchange nor the flaunting +strut of the dames of the Mall or the Piazza."</p> + +<p>Gay made no reply. The girl's carriage and walk were indeed natural and +there was something in both which was familiar to him. But he could not +fix them. He would have to wait until the sheltering hood was raised and +the face revealed.</p> + +<p>This came about when Lavinia was a couple of yards or so from the man. +Gay bent forward and rose slightly from his chair. An expression half +startled, half puzzled stole over his face.</p> + +<p>"Gad! Polly—or am I dreaming?"</p> + +<p>"Lavinia sir," came the demure answer accompanied by a drooping of the +long lashes and a low curtsey.</p> + +<p>"Lavinia of course, but to me always Polly. Gentlemen, this is Miss +Lavinia Fenton, the nightingale I once told you of."</p> + +<p>"Aye," rejoined Pope, "I remember. She was flying wild in the fragrant +groves of St. Giles and you limed her. Good. Now that she's here she +must give us a sample of her powers. I pray that your nightingale, Mr. +Gay, be not really a guinea fowl. Your good nature might easily make you +imagine one to be the other."</p> + +<p>"I protest. You are thinking of yourself. I'll swear you cannot tell the +difference. You put all the music you have into your verse. I doubt if +you could even whistle 'Lillibulero,' though there's not a snub nosed +urchin in his Majesty's kingdom who can't bawl it."</p> + +<p>"That may be, but I can neither whistle nor am I a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> snub-nosed urchin. I +apologise for my defects," retorted the poet.</p> + +<p>A general laugh followed at this and Gay, somewhat discomfited, turned +to Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"Now, Polly, what has brought you here, child? But looking at you I +doubt if I ought to call you child. 'Tis months since I saw thee and I +vow in that time you've become a young woman."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry, sir. I could not help it," said Lavinia meekly.</p> + +<p>"Help it! Faith, no! 'Tis very meritorious of you. But tell me. Has the +admirable Miss Pinwell granted you a holiday, or is it your birthday and +you've come for a present, or what?"</p> + +<p>"Neither the one nor the other, sir. I—I rather think I've left +school."</p> + +<p>"Left school! And without apprising me who am, you know, in a way +sponsor for you? But may be you've written the duchess?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia shook her head and cast down her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Left school," repeated Gay lifting his wig slightly and rubbing his +temple. "Surely—surely you haven't misbehaved and have been expelled. +Miss Pinwell I know is the perfection of prim propriety, but——"</p> + +<p>"Quite true, sir, so she is," burst out Lavinia impetuously, "and I've +done nothing wicked—not really wicked—only silly, but I'm sure Miss +Pinwell wouldn't take me back. You see, sir, I—oh well, I suppose I +must confess I ran away—I meant to return and nobody would have been +the wiser—but things happened that I didn't expect and—and oh, I do +hope you'll forgive me."</p> + +<p>Lavinia's pleading voice quivered. Her eyes were fixed imploringly on +Gay. Tears were glistening in them, the pose of her figure suggested a +delightful penitence. The susceptible poet felt his emotions stirred.</p> + +<p>"Forgive you? But you haven't told me what I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to forgive. You ran +away from school you say. What made you? Had you quarrelled with +anyone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no—not then—the quarrel was after I left the school."</p> + +<p>"After—hang me if I understand. Whom did you quarrel with?"</p> + +<p>"The—the person I—I ran away with."</p> + +<p>Lavinia's confession was uttered in the softest of whispers. It was +inaudible to anyone save Gay. Her face had suddenly become scarlet.</p> + +<p>"The per—oh, there's a mystery here. Mr. Pope—gentlemen," Gay went on +turning to the others, "will you excuse me if I draw apart with our +young madam. She has propounded to me an enigma which must be solved."</p> + +<p>"And if you fail—as you will if the enigma is a woman's—call us to +thine aid," said Arbuthnot laughingly.</p> + +<p>Gay shook his head and he and Lavinia paced the lawn.</p> + +<p>"It's no use asking you to tell me everything, Polly, because you can't +do it. Your sex never do. You're like spendthrifts who are asked to +disclose all their debts. They always keep the heaviest one back. Tell +me as much or as little as you please or nothing at all, if it likes you +better."</p> + +<p>Lavinia hesitated, and at first her tale was a halting one enough, but +seeing no sign of anger in Gay's amiable countenance, she became more +courageous, and substantially she said all that was necessary to make +her companion acquainted with her list of peccadilloes.</p> + +<p>"Zooks, my young miss," quoth Gay after the solace of a pinch of snuff. +"It seemeth to me that you've begun to flutter your pinions sufficiently +early. Two love affairs on your hands within twenty-four hours. Mighty +fine, upon my word."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but they are <i>not</i> love affairs," protested Lavinia. "I didn't love +Mr. Dorrimore a bit. I never want to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> him again. And as for Mr. +Vane, never a word of love has passed between us."</p> + +<p>"Bless your innocence. Are words the only signs of love? Permit me to +inform you, Polly, that I look upon your love adventure with Lancelot +Vane as a much more serious business than your elopement with a +profligate fop."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is serious, Mr. Gay. It's worse than serious—it's tragic. +If you could see the wretched place poor Mr. Vane lives in, if you knew +how he is wanting for food——"</p> + +<p>"And drink—is he wanting for that too?" interposed Gay sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Lavinia made no answer. She thought of Lancelot at the Chapter Coffee +House the night before and her face clouded.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a word of advice, Polly. If you're going to be a nice +woman and want to keep your peace of mind, never fall in love with a +poet, a playwright or indeed any man who takes his pen in hand for a +living."</p> + +<p>"But, sir—aren't you a poet and don't you write plays?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, and that's why I'm warning you. <i>Ex uno disce omnes</i>, which +you may like to know means, we're all tarred with the same brush."</p> + +<p>"And do you drink too much, sir?" inquired Lavinia with an engaging +simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Gad, not oftener than I can help. But we were talking about falling in +love and that has nothing to do with my drinking habits. About Mr. +Vane's—well, that's a different matter. You haven't fallen in love with +me and you have with a clever young man who's going as fast as he can to +the deuce."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir, whether you're laughing at me or telling me the +truth, but—Mr. Vane risked his life for me."</p> + +<p>"And to reward him you're thinking of trusting him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> with yours. A pretty +guardian—a man who can't take care of his own!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're wrong, Mr. Gay—indeed, you are. Mr. Vane is nothing to me. +I'm only sorry for him."</p> + +<p>"Of course—of course. That's the first step. You begin by being sorry +for your sweetheart and you end by being sorry for yourself. Well—well, +a woman must go her own way or she wouldn't be a woman. What have you +there?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia was holding out a parcel.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a play, sir, that Mr. Vane has written."</p> + +<p>"And why did he write it? Who asked him? Who wants plays?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," Lavinia stammered dismally. She felt her ardour was +being damped. "Mr. Vane begged me to bring it to you, sir, and I +couldn't refuse, could I? It was this way. I told him you were my +friend—and you are, aren't you?—and he was overjoyed."</p> + +<p>"Overjoyed? What in the name of Heaven about?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vane thought that if I took the play to you and asked you to read +it you would be sure to say you would."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vane had no business to think anything of the kind. Doesn't he know +that nothing in this world can be taken for granted? I've committed the +folly myself too often not to know that placing faith in other people is +vanity and vexation."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. But you'll read Mr. Vane's play all the same, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"What a wheedling baggage it is," muttered Gay.</p> + +<p>And he held the parcel and resisted the impulse to give it back to +Lavinia and to tell her that he had neither time nor inclination to read +other men's plays. His own play was sufficient for him at that moment.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h4>"I'M FIXED ON POLLY PEACHUM"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia saw she had nearly conquered and cried:—"Let me untie the knot. +I was sure you would not say no."</p> + +<p>Gay was like wax in her hands. He permitted her to snatch the parcel and +attack the knot. Between her deft fingers and pearly teeth she had the +string off and the parcel open in a trice. She held the manuscript under +Gay's nose. He could not help seeing the title, writ large as it was.</p> + +<p>"Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot Vane," he read +with a rueful look. "Mercy on me, Polly, you never told me it was a +tragedy. Oh, this is very—very sad."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Gay, aren't all tragedies sad?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I confess some are comic enough in all conscience. But that was not +in my mind. It was that any sane man should waste time in writing a +tragedy. The worst thing about a tragedy is that the playwright's +friends are pestered to read it and audiences tired by sitting it out. +Aren't there tragedies enough in real life without men inventing 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I can't say, sir."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. You're not old enough. Tragedy doesn't come to the young +and when it does they don't understand and perhaps 'tis as well. But +I'll have to humour you or I shall never hear the last of it. Put the +parcel up again and I'll look at the contents at my leisure. Now to a +much more entertaining matter—yourself. Have you practised your +singing? Have you attended to the instructions of your music master?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> I +doubt it. I'll vow you've often driven the poor man half frantic with +your airs and graces and teasing and that he hasn't had the heart to +chide you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed he has," cried Lavinia, pouting, "though really I haven't +given him cause and yet he was tiresome enough."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. But you must let me hear. I want to be sure the good +duchess hasn't thrown her money away. My friends, too, are curious to +have a taste of your quality. I've told them much about thee. You +mustn't put discredit upon me."</p> + +<p>"No sir, I wouldn't be so ungrateful. What would you have me do?"</p> + +<p>"I want to hear one of your old ballads such as showered pennies and +shillings in your pocket when I've heard you sing in Clare Market and +St. Giles High Street. But first let us go back to Mr. Pope and the +others."</p> + +<p>Lavinia looked a little frightened at the idea of singing before musical +judges who doubtless were accustomed to listen to the great singers at +the King's Theatre—Signor Senesino, Signor Farinalli, Signora Cuzzoni, +Signora Faustina, and may be the accomplished English singer Anastasia +Robinson, albeit she rarely sang in the theatre but mainly in the houses +of her father's noble friends among whom was the Earl of Peterborough, +her future husband.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Gay saw her trepidation, for, said he laughingly:</p> + +<p>"You needn't fear Mr. Pope. He hasn't the least idea what a tune is and +won't know whether you sing well or ill. Dr. Arbuthnot sitting next him +is the kindliest soul in the world, and will make excuses for you if you +squawl as vilely as a cat on the tiles. As for Dr. Pepusch—ah, that's a +different matter. Pepusch is an ugly man and you must do your best to +lessen his ugliness. He's all in all to Mr. Rich when Rich condescends +to let the fiddles and the flutes give the audience a little music. If +you capture Pepusch you may help me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd do that gladly Mr. Gay. Tell me how," cried Lavinia eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Softly—softly, 'tis all in the clouds at present. Pepusch must hear +you sing. Then—but I dare not say more."</p> + +<p>Lavinia surveyed the hard face and the double chin of the musical +director disapprovingly.</p> + +<p>"I don't take to him," said she. "Is he an Englishman?"</p> + +<p>"No—he comes from Germany. Like King George and Queen Caroline."</p> + +<p>Lavinia frowned.</p> + +<p>"Some of the people in St. Giles I've heard call the Royal Family +Hanoverian rats," she exclaimed indignantly, "and those German women who +pocketted everything they could lay their hands upon—the 'Maypole' and +the 'Elephant,' the one because she's so lean and the other because +she's so fat—they're rats too. Fancy the King making them into an +English duchess and countess. 'Tis monstrous. Why——"</p> + +<p>"Hush—hush," interrupted Gay with mock solemnity and placing his finger +on her lips. "You're talking treason within earshot of the 'Maypole,' +otherwise her Grace the Duchess of Kendal. Don't you know that she is a +neighbour of Mr. Pope? Kendal House on the road to Isleworth is but an +easy walk from here."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm sorry for Mr. Pope. I hate the Germans."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then you're a Jacobite and a rebel. If you would retain your pretty +head on your shoulders keep your treason to yourself," laughed Gay. "But +I confess I like the Germans no more than you do. Yet there are +exceptions. Pepusch has made his home here—his country turned him +out—and there's clever Mr. Handel. The English know more about his +music than do his countrymen. I would love to see you, Polly, applauded +in the Duke's Theatre as heartily as was Mr. Handel's opera 'Rinaldo' at +the King's."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>Something significant in Gay's voice and face sent the blood rushing to +Lavinia's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I applauded!—I at the Duke's! Oh, that will never be."</p> + +<p>"May be not—may be not. But one never knows. A pretty face—a pretty +voice—an air—faith, such gifts may work wonders. But let us keep Mr. +Pope waiting no longer."</p> + +<p>They approached the table beneath the cedar tree.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Gay with a bow to Pope, "I've prevailed upon my young madam +here to give us a taste of her quality. I trust your twittering birds +won't be provoked to rivalry. Happily their season of song is past."</p> + +<p>"I warn you Mr. Gay, the age of miracles is <i>not</i> past. What if the work +you're toiling at sends the present taste of the town into a +summersault? Would not that be a miracle?"</p> + +<p>"You think then that my 'Beggar's Opera' won't do," broke in Gay, his +face losing a little of its colour.</p> + +<p>"You know my views. It is something unlike anything ever written +before—a leap in the dark. But for Miss's ditty. We're all attention."</p> + +<p>"What shall I sing, sir?" Lavinia whispered to Gay.</p> + +<p>"Anything you like, my child, so long as you acquit yourself to Dr. +Pepusch's satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"But I would love to have your choice too. What of 'My Lodging is on the +Cold Ground?' My music master told me this was the song that made King +Charles fall in love with Mistress Moll Davies. So I learned it."</p> + +<p>"Odso. Of course you did. Then let old Pepusch look out. Nothing could +be better. Aye, it is indeed a sweet tune."</p> + +<p>Lavinia retired a few paces on to the lawn, dropped naturally into a +simple pose and for a minute or two imagined herself back in the streets +where she sang without effort and without any desire to create effect. +She sang the pathetic old air—much better fitted to the words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> than the +so-called Irish melody of a later date—with delightful artlessness.</p> + +<p>"What think you, doctor?" whispered Gay to Pepusch. "Can you see her as +Polly—not Peggy mind ye—I'm fixed on Polly Peachum."</p> + +<p>"De girl ver goot voice has. But dat one song—it tell me noting. Can +she Haendel sing?"</p> + +<p>"That I know not, but I'll warrant she'll not be a dunce with Purcell. +And you must admit, doctor, that your George Frederick Handel is much +beholden to our Henry Purcell."</p> + +<p>"Vat?" cried Pepusch a little angrily. "Nein—nein. Haendel the greatest +composer of music in de vorld is."</p> + +<p>"I grant you his genius but he comes after Purcell. Have you heard +Purcell's setting of 'Arise, ye subterranean winds?' If not, I'll get +Leveridge to sing it. Has not your Handel helped himself to that? Not +note for note, but in style, in dignity, in expression? Ah, I have you +there. But we mustn't quarrel. You must hear the girl again. Look 'ee +here. Have we not agreed that 'Virgins are like the Fair Flower' in the +first act shall be set to Purcell's 'What shall I do to show how much I +love her?' I would have you play the air and Polly shall sing it."</p> + +<p>"Sing dat air? But it most difficult is. It haf de trills—de +appogiaturas. Has she dem been taught?"</p> + +<p>"You will soon see. For myself I hold not with the Italian style and its +eternal ornament and repetitions."</p> + +<p>"Aha—ha Mistare Gay, I haf <i>you</i> now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell +Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den."</p> + +<p>"Oh, may be—may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here +is my verse. Oblige me with the music."</p> + +<p>During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on +the table. This manuscript was a rough draft of the "Beggar's Opera." +Pepusch had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> before him the music of a number of tunes, most of them +well known, selected by Gay and himself as suitable for the songs in the +opera. Poet and musician had had repeated differences as to the choice +of melodies but things had now fairly settled down.</p> + +<p>Lavinia meanwhile was watching the proceedings with no little interest +and with not less nervousness. She had heard the talk and saw quite well +that she was about to be put to a severe test. She was to sing something +she had never sung before and possibly written in a style with which she +was unfamiliar. Gay approached her with a sheet of manuscript which he +put into her hand.</p> + +<p>"You did very well, child," said he encouragingly. "But I want you to do +better. Dr. Pepusch will play the music for these verses on the +harpsichord. You must listen closely to the melody and take particular +note of the way he plays it. Then you will sing it. Here are the words +and the music. Study them while the doctor plays."</p> + +<p>Lavinia looked at both in something like dismay. The music being +engraved was plainer than Gay's cramped handwriting. She knew she had +imitative gifts and that most tunes she heard for the first time she +could reproduce exactly. But that was for her own pleasure. She at such +times abandoned herself to the power of music. But for the pleasure of +others and to know that she was being criticised was a different matter. +Already she felt distracted. Could she fix her attention on the music +and think of nothing else?</p> + +<p>There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house +and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the +open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in +an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song.</p> + +<p>The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's +fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> her audience. She saw how +the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and +graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or +so and recommenced.</p> + +<p>Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones +gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with +the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which +Purcell had introduced after the fashion of the day were given with +perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly +applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he +crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to +Lavinia and patted her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Dat vas goot, young laty—ver goot," he growled.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you doctor?" cried Gay exultantly. "Why, she can sing +everything set down for Polly—I pray you don't forget it is to be +Polly—Peachum. She <i>is</i> Polly Peachum. What do you think, Mr. Pope?"</p> + +<p>"Polly Peachum by all means since you will have it so. If an author has +a right to anything it is surely the right to name his offspring as he +will. He need not even consult his wife—if he have one. But though you +call your work an opera Mr. Gay, it is also a play. The songs are not +everything—indeed, Mr. Rich would say they're nothing. Can the girl +act?"</p> + +<p>"She can be taught and I'll swear she'll prove an apt pupil. 'Twill, I +fear, be many months before it is staged. Rich has not made up his mind. +I hear Mr. Huddy who was dispossessed of the Duke's Theatre contemplates +the New Theatre in the Haymarket. I must talk to him. He hasn't yet +found his new company. An indifferent lot of strolling players I'm told +was his old one. Polly probably won't have a singing part but that's of +no great matter just now."</p> + +<p>"You're bound to build castles in the air Mr. Gay," said Dr. Arbuthnot, +taking his churchwarden from his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> lips. "Suppose you come down to <i>terra +firma</i> for a brief space. The girl is a singer—that cannot be gainsaid. +She may become an actress—good. But now—who is she? Her father—her +mother——"</p> + +<p>"They can hardly be said to exist," broke in Gay. "I will tell you the +story later on. 'Twould but embarrass her to relate it now. The duchess +has been good enough to charge herself with the cost of her keeping—her +schooling and the rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that alters the case. If she is a protégé of her grace I need not +say more. Her future is provided for."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," but Gay spoke in anything but a confident tone. Inwardly he +was troubled at what view Mat Prior's "Kitty" might take of Polly's +escapade. The Duchess might be as wayward as she pleased, but it did not +follow that she would excuse waywardness in another woman.</p> + +<p>Gay turned to Pepusch and the two conversed for some little time, the +upshot of the talk being that Pepusch promised, when the proper time +came, to say to John Rich all he could in favour of Lavinia, always +supposing she had acquired sufficient stage experience.</p> + +<p>This settled, the poet drew near Lavinia who all this time was waiting +and wondering what this new adventure of hers would end in.</p> + +<p>"Now Polly, my dear," said Gay, "if you behave yourself and don't have +any more love affairs——"</p> + +<p>"But did I not tell you, sir, I'd had none," interrupted Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, I remember quite well. We won't go into the subject again or +we shall never finish. The varieties and nice distinctions of love are +endless. A much more pressing question is nearer to hand—where are you +going to live?"</p> + +<p>"Hannah, my mother's servant—a dear good kind creature—it was through +her I was able to come here—will find me a lodging. I can trust her +but—but——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stopped and much embarrassed, twisted her fingers nervously.</p> + +<p>"I understand. You've but little money."</p> + +<p>"I have none, sir, unfortunately."</p> + +<p>"Well—well—never mind. Here's a guinea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're too generous, sir. But I shall pay you back."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that. Now go into the house. I will ask Mr. Pope to +tell his housekeeper to give you a dish of tea or a cup of cocoa. +Good-bye. You must let me know where you are living. I may have good +news for you within a few days."</p> + +<p>Lavinia between smiles and tears hurried off after curtseying to the +gentlemen under the cedar tree and on her way across the lawn was met by +the man-servant who took her to the housekeeper's room. The woman had +heard the singing and was full of admiration. She wanted to hear more, +she said, so while the tea was being got ready Lavinia sent her into +thrills of delight by warbling the universal favourite "Cold and Raw."</p> + +<p>After a time came the question of returning to London and how. Lavinia +could have crossed the ferry and so to Richmond and Mortlake, but that +would not help her on the journey unless Giles was going to market, +which was hardly likely. Besides she did not wish to burden him. And +then—there was Lancelot Vane.</p> + +<p>Lancelot, she thought, must be anxious to know the result of her +mission. That result was not so encouraging as she had hoped. True, Mr. +Gay had the precious tragedy in his pocket and had promised to read it, +but his opinion of dramatists generally and his hints concerning +Lancelot Vane's weakness had considerably damped her ardour. In spite of +this, she determined to get to London as quickly as possible and to +hasten to Grub Street that same night.</p> + +<p>"You can catch the Bath coach at Hounslow," said the housekeeper. "It's +but just gone five and the coach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> be timed to stop at the 'George' at +six, but it's late more often than not."</p> + +<p>"And how far is it to Hounslow?"</p> + +<p>"May be a couple o' miles or so, but it's a bit of a cross road—say two +mile an' a half. Stephen'll put you in the right way."</p> + +<p>"Oh thank you—thank you kindly," cried Lavinia. "But it will be giving +Stephen a deal of trouble. I dare say I can find my way by myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may do that. I should think you were sharp enough, but there +are no end of beggars and rapscallions of all sorts on the Bath road and +some of 'em are bound to wander into the by-ways on the look out for +what they can steal. No, Stephen must see you through the lonely parts."</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h4>"I WISH YOU GOOD NIGHT AND MORE SENSE"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia and her protector set out. Stephen was inclined to be garrulous +and Lavinia had not much occasion to put in a word. He entertained her +with choice bits of information, such as how he remembered when the +coach ran between Bath and London only three times a week.</p> + +<p>"But that was nigh twenty years ago. It were Mr. Baldwin as keeps a inn +at Salthill as started to run 'em daily. The coach stops at the Belle +Savage, Ludgate. Be that near where you want to go, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Ludgate Hill? Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>Hounslow in Stephen's opinion was getting to be quite a big place.</p> + +<p>"When I was a boy it hadn't more'n a hundred houses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>—it's double or +treble that now, but they're pretty well all inns an' ale houses an' +mighty queer ones, some of em are. Hand in glove with highway robbers +an' footpads. Not much good a-tryin' to catch a highwayman if he once +gets to Hounslow. He's only got to run in one of the houses where's he +known an' you might as well try to foller a fox as has darted into a +drain. Some o' them ale houses an' boozin' kens has got passages +a-runnin' one into the other."</p> + +<p>"That's very terrible Mr. Stephen. You quite alarm me," cried Lavinia.</p> + +<p>But she was not so alarmed as she would have been had she been brought +up a fine lady. She had had highwaymen pointed out to her in Drury Lane +and Dyott Street and knew that the majority were boasting, bragging +fellows and cowards at heart. But there were others of a different +quality who did their robberies with quite a gentlemanly air.</p> + +<p>They took the way through Whitton Park. As the housekeeper said, the +journey was cross-country so far as roads were concerned, but Stephen +knew the short cuts and they reached the long, straggling, mean-looking +Hounslow High Street—the future town was at that time little more than +a street—at about a quarter to six.</p> + +<p>They entered the "George"—a house of greater pretensions than the +rest—and Lavinia found she was in plenty of time for the London coach.</p> + +<p>"She'll be late," said the landlord. "A chap as just come in says he +rode past her t'other side o' the heath an' she was stuck fast on a +nasty bit o' boggy road and one o' the leaders—a jibber—wouldn't stir +a step for whip or curses."</p> + +<p>"That's bad," said Stephen. "Still it would ha' been far worse if some +o' them High Toby gentry had stopped the coach."</p> + +<p>"Aye," rejoined the landlord dropping his voice. "We had a fellow o' +that sort in about half an hour ago. He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> on a mare as wiry an' +springy as could be, could clear a pike gate like a wild cat I'll bet. I +didn't like the scoundrel's phizog and I'll swear he didn't want to know +for naught what time the London coach passed the George. I wouldn't +wonder if he was hanging about Smallbury Green at this 'ere very minute. +But don't 'ee let the young leddy know this. She might be afeared, an' +after all I may be wrong."</p> + +<p>Stephen nodded.</p> + +<p>"The High Toby gen'elmen are gettin' monstrous darin'. I'm told as +they've been stickin' up bills on the park gates of the Quality +a-warnin' their lordships not to travel with less than ten guineas in +their pocket an' a gold watch an' chain, on pain o' death. What think +'ee o' that for downright brazenness?"</p> + +<p>Stephen could only raise his hands deprecatingly, but as Lavinia was +drawing near him he made no reply.</p> + +<p>"I've booked my seat," said she, "so please don't stay any longer. I'm +quite safe now and all I have to do is to wait for the coach. Thank you +kindly for coming with me."</p> + +<p>"Ye're quite welcome, miss. I don't know as I can be of more sarvice, so +I'll get back to Twitenham. I wish 'ee a pleasant journey to London."</p> + +<p>Lavinia again thanked him, Stephen departed and Lavinia prepared herself +to exercise what patience she possessed. And well she needed patience +for it was past eight and quite dark before the coach appeared at little +more than a walking pace. Then the horses had to be changed, the +coachman roundly anathematising the sinning jibber as the brute was led +in disgrace to the stables; the passengers descended to refresh +themselves and so nearly another hour was wasted.</p> + +<p>At last all was ready. Lavinia had booked an inside place and found that +her only fellow passenger was a gouty old gentleman who had been taking +the waters at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> Bath. The outside passengers were but few, a woman and a +couple of men.</p> + +<p>Hounslow was left behind and in due time they entered the road across +Smallbury Green, beyond which was Brentford. The travelling was very bad +and the coach on its leather hangings swung about in all directions. The +conversation—if conversation it could be called—consisted of +fragmentary ejaculations of mingled pain and annoyance from the old +gentleman when his gouty foot was jerked against some part of the coach.</p> + +<p>They had not passed over the Green when the clatter of a galloping horse +was heard and almost immediately the coach was pulled up.</p> + +<p>"Body o' me," cried the old gentleman in dismay. "What's happened?"</p> + +<p>He had an answer in a very few seconds. A big pistol, its barrel +gleaming in the moonlight, was thrust through the coach window and +behind the pistol was a masked horseman.</p> + +<p>"A thousand apologies for putting your lordship to such inconvenience," +growled the highwayman with affected humility. "I'm sure your lordship +has too much sense not to perceive the force of an argument which you +will own is entirely on my side."</p> + +<p>And he advanced the muzzle of the pistol a little nearer the head of the +old gentleman and then came an unpleasant click.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye want, you scoundrel?" stammered the victim.</p> + +<p>"Nay, a little more politeness, if you please. I simply want your watch +and chain, the rings on your fingers and any money you may chance to +have about you—gold in preference. Permit me to add that if you don't +turn out your pockets before I count ten I shall put a bullet in your +skull first and do the searching myself afterwards."</p> + +<p>This command, uttered in fierce threatening tones, brought the unlucky +gentleman from Bath to book at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> once. Trembling, he turned out his +pockets and a number of guineas fell beside him on the seat. The +highwayman grabbed them at once.</p> + +<p>"Your lordship is most generous and complaisant. Now for your trinkets. +Quick! Time is of great importance."</p> + +<p>All the valuables the old gentleman possessed were yielded and pocketted +rapidly by the highwayman.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my lord, for a most agreeable interview. I trust your lordship +will reach your journey's end without further mishap."</p> + +<p>Then to Lavinia's terror the highwayman turned towards her. She shrank +into her corner of the coach.</p> + +<p>"Pray don't be alarmed, madam. I never rob women unless they tempt me +very much. Some are so foolish as to wear all the gewgaws they possess. +But you have more sense I see. Yet a diamond would vastly set off the +whiteness of that pretty little hand. Your gallant must be very dull not +to have ornamented your charming fingers."</p> + +<p>In spite of the man's fair words Lavinia's terror was not diminished. +His eyes glinted savagely through the holes of his mask and a mocking +note in his raucous voice plainly sounded an insincerity. Apart from +this there was something in his voice which was strangely, disagreeably +familiar, but she was too agitated just then to try to trace the +association.</p> + +<p>The highwayman stared at her for some few seconds without speaking, then +his coarse, wide lips, which the mask did not come low enough to +conceal, parted in a grin showing big yellow, uneven teeth and an ugly +gap in the lower jaw where two of the front teeth had once been.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, madam. Let us hope we shall meet again under happier +circumstances."</p> + +<p>And wheeling round his horse he took off his hat with a sweeping bow. +Then he set out at a gallop and did not draw rein until he reached the +"Red Cow" at Hammer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>smith. Apparently he was well-known, for in response +to his shout an ostler ran from the yard and at his imperious order took +his horse to the stables. Then the highwayman strode into the bar +parlour.</p> + +<p>His mask, of course, was now removed, and the features were revealed of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash.</p> + +<p>Here he sat drinking until the rumble of the London coach was heard. +Then he quitted the bar and went to the stable, where he remained during +the stay of the coach which occupied some little time, for the story of +the highway robbery had to be told.</p> + +<p>No one about the inn was in the least surprised. Highwaymen haunted +Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and had the landlord of the "Red Cow" +chosen to open his mouth he might have thrown a little light upon the +man who had stopped the Bath coach.</p> + +<p>Once more the coach was on its way and following it went Captain +Rofflash, dogging it to its destination at the Belle Savage. He watched +Lavinia alight and wherever she went he went too. Could she have +listened to what he was saying she would have heard the words:—</p> + +<p>"By gad, it's the very wench. I'll swear 'tis. Perish me if this isn't +the best day's work I've done for many a day. If I don't make Mr. +Archibald Dorrimore fork out fifty guineas my name isn't Jeremy +Rofflash."</p> + +<p>Shortly after Lavinia set out on her way to Grub Street. Lancelot Vane +was pacing Moor Fields—a depressing tract of land, the grass trodden +down here and there into bare patches, thanks to the games of the London +'prentices and gambols of children—in company with Edmund Curll, the +most scurrilous and audacious of writers and booksellers who looked upon +standing on the pillory, which he had had to do more than once, more as +a splendid form of advertisement than as a degradation.</p> + +<p>"You can write what I want if you chose—no man better," he was saying. +Vane was listening not altogether attentively. His thoughts were +elsewhere.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And supposing I don't choose."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be an arrant fool," sneered Curll angrily. "You're out at +elbows. You haven't a penny to bless yourself with. You don't eat, but +you can always drink provided you run across a friend who by chance has +some money in his pocket. What'll be the end of it all? You'll go +down—down among the dregs of Grub Street and you'll never rise again."</p> + +<p>"Not so, Mr. Curll," cried Vane hotly. "I've great hopes. I've a +tragedy——"</p> + +<p>"A tragedy! <i>That</i> for your tragedy."</p> + +<p>Curll snapped his fingers scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Why, my young friend, supposing you get your tragedy staged, it will be +played one night—if extraordinarily successful two nights, or three at +the most. What do you think you will get out of it? Nothing. But perhaps +you fancy yourself a Congreve or a Farquhar?"</p> + +<p>"Neither Congreve nor Farquhar wrote tragedies, sir," retorted Vane +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! What about Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning Bride?'"</p> + +<p>"I prefer his comedies, sir."</p> + +<p>"And so do I, but that's nothing to the point. May be you consider that +you're equal to Mr. Otway or even Mr. Cibber, I leave Mr. Gay out of the +count. He's written nothing that's likely to live and never will. He's +too lazy."</p> + +<p>"You dislike Mr. Gay, 'tis well known, because he's Mr. Pope's friend. I +do not and that's my objection to writing for you. I doubt not you would +ask me to attack the most talented men of the age simply because you +hate them or you want to air some grievance."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong. I do it to sell my books and put money in my pocket. If +you write for me you won't be called upon to express your own opinions. +All you have to do is to express mine and keep your body and soul +together comfortably. You can't do that now and the two'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> part company +before long unless you alter. You were not so squeamish last night at +the Chapter Coffee House."</p> + +<p>"There was a reason for that. I was full of wine and hardly knew what I +was saying."</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant you didn't. That same wine, let me tell you, will be your +undoing. Now that your head is clear you'd better think over my offer. +It will at least provide you with a more decent coat and wig than those +you're wearing. A young man should dress smartly. What's his life worth +to him unless women look kindly upon him? Do you expect they care for a +shabby gallant?"</p> + +<p>Vane was silent. Some of Curll's words had gone home.</p> + +<p>"I'll think it over," said he at last.</p> + +<p>"That's right. Think over it and if you're in love, as you ought to be, +ask your girl if I'm not right. Have a night's consideration and come +and see me to-morrow. I wish you good-night and—more sense."</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h4>"A MAN SHOULD FIGHT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD"</h4> + +<p>Vane left alone, strolled onward moodily, his eyes bent on the ground.</p> + +<p>"In love, as I ought to be, said that scoundrel," he was muttering. "How +does he know I'm not? But what's the good? Faith, I believe I'm the +poorest devil in London and the unluckiest. Some people would say that +it is my own fault and that I've no need to be. Anyhow, my worthy father +would hold that view. I doubt if he'd kill the fatted calf if I went +back to him.... Go back! I'd rather go to the devil to whose tender +mercies he consigned me. Well, let it be so.... I've had some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> of the +joys of life—though maybe I've also had a good slice of its +disappointments.... It was worth being poor to have the pity of that +dear delightful girl.... God, what eyes! How sweet the tones of her +voice! I feel I love every hair of her pretty head. But to what purpose? +She's not for me. She never could be. Yet—well I shall see her again. +That's a joy to live for ... anyway. But it's too late to expect her +now. There's nothing left but to dream of her."</p> + +<p>While thus soliloquising, kicking the pebbles as an accompaniment to his +thoughts, Vane neared the corner of Moor Fields leading to Cripples Gate +and was pounced upon by a couple of noisy fellows, friends of his, who, +newly sprung with wine, would have him go with them to the "Bear and +Staff" close to the Gate.</p> + +<p>"No—no," protested Vane, "I'm not in the mood."</p> + +<p>"The very reason why you should drink," quoth one.</p> + +<p>"But I've sworn not to touch a drop of anything stronger than coffee or +chocolate for a week. I had too much port last night."</p> + +<p>"Worse and worse. Hang it man, whatever you may have been at Oxford +University you are no disputant now. Your resolution to be virtuous for +a week won't last a day unless you strengthen it. And what strengthens +the wit more than wine?"</p> + +<p>"Get thee gone Satan. I'm not to be tempted by a paradox."</p> + +<p>Vane did not speak with conviction. His spirits were low. Curll's offer +was worrying him. To be in the service of such a man, whose personal +character was as infamous as some of the books he published, was a +humiliation. It meant the prostitution of his faculties. He shuddered at +the prospect of becoming one of Curll's slaves to some of whom he paid a +mere pittance and who were sunk so low they had no alternative but to do +his bidding.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the second man had thrust his arm within Vane's and had led +him along a few paces, when sud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>denly the imprisoned arm was withdrawn +and Vane pulled himself up. He had caught sight of a Nithsdale cloak +with the face he had been dreaming about all day peeping from beneath +the hood.</p> + +<p>"Jarvis—Compton—let me go," he exclaimed, "another time."</p> + +<p>He violently wrenched himself free. They followed his eyes and +instinctively guessed the reason of his objection. The figure in the +cloak had turned but there was an unmistakeable suggestion of lingering +in her attitude.</p> + +<p>"Man alive," laughed Jarvis, "your argument's unanswerable. We give you +best. Woman has conquered as she always does. Good luck."</p> + +<p>Vane did not stay to listen to the banter of his friends but hastened +towards the cloak.</p> + +<p>"You're my good angel," he whispered holding out both his hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I've come at a wrong moment. I'm taking you from your +friends," said the girl in the cloak a little coldly.</p> + +<p>"You're offended. Pray forgive me if I've done anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"Not to me. Perhaps to yourself. But I ought not to say ... no, what you +do is nothing to me."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean that?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? You know it as well as I do—may be better."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't. Forgive me if I've allowed myself to think that I was +of some interest to you. Of course I was foolish to have such fancies. +Still, you've been so kind.... I hardly like to ask you if you have seen +Mr. Gay ... and ... and ... my tragedy...."</p> + +<p>Vane could not conceal his agitation. Lavinia took pity on him and her +manner softened in that subtle inexplicable way which women have.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've seen him and I gave him your play."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, I can never thank you sufficiently. And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He put the play in his pocket and promised to read it. He could not do +any more, could he?" Lavinia quickly added seeing disappointment written +in the young dramatist's face.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. But did he give hopes that he would speak to Mr. Rich at +the Duke's Theatre or to Mr. Cibber at Drury Lane?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he did. I can't remember. He told me he was himself +writing a play—an opera—but he was not sanguine he should get it +performed."</p> + +<p>"An opera? It is a waste of time. Operas are written by foreigners and +the music and the singers are foreign too. What do the English care +about operas written in their own tongue? It's not wonderful that Mr. +Gay should be doubtful. Now a tragedy is a different thing. That's +something everybody understands!"</p> + +<p>"Do they? I fear then I'm very stupid. I saw a tragedy once and I'm not +sure I knew what it was about. The people on the stage made such long +speeches to each other they tired me to death. But I'm sure yours would +not be like that."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you say that because you want to put me in good heart. We'll talk +no more about it, nor about myself either."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I do want to talk about you. I've something to say and I don't +know how to say it without hurting you," said Lavinia, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean you're going to bid me good-bye?" he burst out. "I won't +say <i>that</i>. You're the only one I've ever met who's encouraged me out of +pure good nature. When I've had money to spend on them, friends have +sought me out fawning and flattering. After they'd emptied my purse they +vanished."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, and that's why I want to talk to you. Aren't you easily led +to take too much wine?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps—perhaps, but no more than other men."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, at least not more than the men I saw you with last night."</p> + +<p>"You saw me! Where?"</p> + +<p>"In a coffee house near St. Paul's. The man who left you a few minutes +ago was making you drink and the others were helping him. Your glass was +never empty save when you yourself had emptied it. I don't like that +white-faced squinting man. His voice is horrid. His vulgar talk—oh, it +made me put my fingers to my ears and run out of the house. He doesn't +mean you well."</p> + +<p>"I—I like him no more than you," stammered Vane. "But he wants me to +write for him. It would put money in my pocket. How could I refuse to +drink with him?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? He would not employ you if he did not think it was to his own +good. And have you promised?"</p> + +<p>"No—not yet. He was persuading me just now but I've not consented."</p> + +<p>"Then don't. He's a bad, a wicked man I feel sure. Have nothing to do +with him."</p> + +<p>"I swear to you I've no desire. But a penniless scribbler has no choice +if he has to live—that is if life be worth living, which I sometimes +doubt."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't think like that. It's cowardly. A man should fight his +way through the world. Now a woman...."</p> + +<p>"She's armed better than a man. Her charm—her beauty—her wit. Nature +bestows on her all conquering weapons."</p> + +<p>"Which she as often as not misuses and turns against herself. But Mr. +Vane," the note of bitterness had vanished; her voice was now earnest, +almost grave, "you weren't despondent when you were facing an angry mob +after doing me a service I shall never forget. You underrate yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I admit that when alone I'm like a boat at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> mercy of wind and +wave, but with some one to inspire—to guide—bah, 'tis useless talking +of the unattainable."</p> + +<p>Vane uttered the last words in a reckless tone and with a shrug of the +shoulders. His eyes gazed yearningly, despairingly into hers, and there +had never been a time in Lavinia's life when she was less able to +withstand a wave of heartfelt emotion.</p> + +<p>Her nerves at that moment were terribly unstrung. She had had a most +exhausting day lasting from early dawn. The strain of the trying +interview at Twickenham; the anxious ordeal of singing before such +supreme judges as she deemed them; the jubilation of success and the +praise they had bestowed upon her, and Gay's promises as to her future +had turned her brain for the time being. Then the episode of the +highwayman—that in itself was sufficiently disturbing.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact the girl's strength was ebbing fast when she reached +Moor Fields, but she nerved herself to go on, confident of her reward in +relieving the young author's anxiety and his joy at the success—up to a +point—of her errand. Things had not quite turned out as she had +pictured them. The sight of the coarse speeched, malevolent-looking man +with his squinting eye and unhealthy complexion, brought back the scene +of the night before which she would willingly have forgotten, and down +went her spirits to zero.</p> + +<p>While she had been talking with Vane her heart was fluttering strangely. +She had eaten nothing since she had left Twickenham and she was +conscious of a weakness, of a trembling of the limbs. That passionate, +yearning look in Vane's eyes had aroused an excess of tenderness towards +him which overwhelmed her. She suddenly turned dizzy. She swooned.</p> + +<p>When consciousness came back she was in his arms. He was as tremulous as +she and was looking at her pallid face with eyes of terror—a terror +which disappeared instantly when he saw life returning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My God," he cried, "I thought you were dead. I'd have killed myself had +it been so."</p> + +<p>Lavinia gazed at him mutely. It was pleasant to have his arms round her, +and the feel of them gave her a sense of peace and rest. In her fancy +she had gone through an interminable period of oblivion—in reality it +was but a few seconds—and the struggle into life was painful. But she +was strengthened by his vitality and she gently withdrew herself from +his embrace, smoothed her hair and drew forward her hood which had +fallen back. Despite her pallor, or may be because of it, she never +looked more fascinating than at that moment with her hair tumbled, her +large dreamy eyes, and the delicious languor so charmingly suggestive of +helplessness, and of an appeal to him for protection.</p> + +<p>"Are you better?" he whispered anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you. It was very silly to faint. I don't know what made me."</p> + +<p>"Take my arm; do, please. Why, you can hardly stand."</p> + +<p>It was true, and the arm which went round her waist was not wholly +unnecessary. She submitted without protest and they slowly walked a few +paces.</p> + +<p>"Though it's hard to part from you 'tis best you should get home +quickly. Have you far to go? Shall I call a coach?"</p> + +<p>These pertinent questions threw the girl into a sudden state of +confusion. She had no home. She had but little money, for Gay's guinea +was nearly gone after she had paid her fare from Hounslow and the +incidental expenses of the journey. But she dared not say as much to her +companion. He thought her a fine lady. It might be wise to keep him in +this mind. If he knew she was as poor as he, there would be an end to +the pleasure of helping him. She felt sure he would accept nothing more +from her.</p> + +<p>What was she to say? She could think of nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> She felt bewildered. +At the same time the effort to face the difficulty did her good. It +revived her energy.</p> + +<p>"Indeed there's no necessity for me to ride. I can walk quite well and +it is but a little distance to my home. You may see me across the fields +if you will and then we will say good-night."</p> + +<p>"I'd better walk with you beyond the fields," he urged. "The streets are +just as dangerous for you as this desolate place."</p> + +<p>"Oh no. There are sure to be plenty of people about! You shall go as far +as Cheapside, but not a step further."</p> + +<p>Vane accepted the compromise, but when Cheapside was reached it was full +of a noisy throng and most of the crowd, both men and women, were the +worse for drink. He easily overcame her protest that she could proceed +alone and they went on to St. Paul's. Here it was comparatively quiet, +and she flatly refused to permit him to accompany her beyond the +Cathedral.</p> + +<p>They passed the Chapter coffee house. Lavinia's thoughts reverted to her +warning to Vane on Moor Fields.</p> + +<p>"You've not given me your promise to have nothing to do with that man—I +don't know his name and I don't want to—who made you drink too much +last night in there."</p> + +<p>"I'll promise you anything," he cried pressing the arm which was within +his.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but that's not all. Swear that you will never drink too much +again. It makes me sad."</p> + +<p>"On my honour I never will. I'd rather die than hurt you by word or +deed."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" she returned with more concern in her voice than she +suspected.</p> + +<p>"Sure? If I don't keep my word I should fear to face your anger."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be angry, only sorry."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have your anger than your pity. I might pacify the first but +the second—while you are pitying me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> you might also despise me. I could +never endure that."</p> + +<p>His voice trembled with genuine emotion. Lavinia put out her hand and he +caught it eagerly and raised it to his lips.</p> + +<p>"You've made me happy," he cried, "you've given me fresh hope. I'll +promise you all you've asked. You must promise me one thing in return. I +can't lose sight of you. It would be eternal torment. When and where +shall we meet?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps not at all," said Lavinia slowly and lowering her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that. I've told you why. Not at my miserable lodgings, I +grant you, but at some other place. What say you to Rosamond's Pond?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia darted him a swift glance. The ghost of a smile played about her +lips.</p> + +<p>"The Lovers' Walk of London! Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"But indeed yes. What have you to say against Rosamond's Pond? Its +reputation justifies its romance."</p> + +<p>"Neither its reputation nor its romance has anything to do with us."</p> + +<p>"That is as it may be," he rejoined with an ardent glance. "But you +haven't said no. Rosamond's Pond then to-morrow at sunset—seven +o'clock?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia was too exhausted in mind and body either to refuse or even to +argue. She felt as she had felt many a time in her childhood that she +was simply a waif and stray. Nothing mattered very much. It was easier +to consent than to object.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow at sunset," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"It's a bargain," he whispered. "You won't disappoint me?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't I given you my word? What more do you want?"</p> + +<p>She held out her hand and he pressed it between both his, his eyes fixed +earnestly on her face.</p> + +<p>"I don't like leaving you," he pleaded. "You're pale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> Your hand's cold. +You look as if you might faint again. Please ..."</p> + +<p>"No—no—no," exclaimed Lavinia vehemently. "We must part here. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>Vane was loth to let her hand go but she snatched it away and ran off, +turning her head and throwing him a smile over her shoulder—a picture +of natural grace and charming womanly wile and tenderness which dwelt in +his memory for many a long day.</p> + +<p>Vane stood watching the fleeting figure until it vanished in the +obscurity of Ludgate Hill and then with a deep sigh turned towards +Cheapside.</p> + +<p>"That settles it. I won't write a line for that rascal Curll. I've +promised my divinity and by God, I'll keep my promise."</p> + +<p>But the next instant came the dismal reflection that apart from Curll he +hadn't the slightest notion where his next shilling was to come from.</p> + +<p>"Tush! I won't think of the dolefuls," he muttered. "'Tis an insult to +the loveliest—the kindest—the warmest hearted—the ..."</p> + +<p>He suddenly ceased his panegyric and wheeled round swiftly, his hand on +the hilt of his sword.</p> + +<p>Absorbed though he had been in his thoughts of Lavinia, in some +sub-conscious way the sound of footsteps behind him keeping pace with +his own reached his ear. It was no unusual thing for foot passengers to +be set upon and Vane was on the alert. His suspicions were confirmed by +the sight of a man cloaked and with his slouch hat pulled over his +forehead gliding into a narrow passage leading into Paternoster Row.</p> + +<p>"Just as well, my friend, you've taken to your heels. I've nothing to +lose and you'd have nothing to gain, save may be a sword thrust."</p> + +<p>Congratulating himself on his escape from what might have been an ugly +encounter, Vane plodded back to Grub Street. He lingered in front of a +Cripples' Gate tavern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> where he knew he should find some of his friends, +but he thought of Lavinia's words and he resisted temptation. That night +he did that which with him was a rarity—he went to bed sober.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten the cloaked man whom he had taken for an ordinary +footpad. The fellow must have altered his mind if his intention was to +follow Vane. No sooner was the latter past the passage than he darted +back into St. Paul's Churchyard and hastened westward. He overtook +Lavinia just as she was turning into the Old Bailey and cautiously +followed her.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h4>"THEY'RE TO MEET AT ROSAMOND'S POND"</h4> + +<p>A masquerade was in full swing at a mansion in Leicester Square. The air +of the ball-room was hot and stuffy. Ventilation was a thing of little +account. The light, albeit there were a hundred candles or so in the +sconces, on the panelled walls, and in the chandelier hanging from the +decorated ceiling, and despite the assiduous snuffing by the servants, +was dim. The subdued illumination was not without its advantage. It was +merciful to the painted faces and softened the crudity of their raw +colouring. A mixture of odours offended the nostrils. Powder came off in +clouds, not only from the hair of the belles but also from the wigs of +the beaux. Its peculiar scent mingled with a dozen varieties of the +strong perfumes in vogue, and the combination was punctuated by a dash +of oil from a smoky lamp or two in the vestibule and an occasional waft +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> burnt tallow and pitch from the torches of the link boys outside.</p> + +<p>The masquerade was public and the company was mixed. The establishment +provided punch, strong waters and cordials and some of the visitors had +indulged themselves without scruple. The effect was seen in the cheeks +of matrons and damsels where they were not daubed. It added brilliancy +to many an eye—it gave a piquancy and freedom to talk, greatly +appreciated by the gallants. As for the dancing, in that crowded room +owing to the space monopolised by the prodigious hoops and the general +exhilaration, the stately minuet and sarabande were out of the question, +and the jig and country dance were much more in favour.</p> + +<p>In a side room cards and dicing were going on and the gamblers were not +to be drawn from the tables while they had money in their pockets. Most +of them were women, and when the grey dawn came stealing between the +curtains of the long narrow windows, overpowering the candlelight and +turning it of a pale sickly yellow, the players were still seated, with +feverish hands, haggard faces and hawk-like eyes, pursuing their race +after excitement. A silence had come over the party. The play was high +and the gamesters too absorbed to note anything but the game. From the +ball-room came the sound of violin, flute and harpsichord, shrieks of +shrill laughter, oaths from drunken wranglers and the continual thump of +feet.</p> + +<p>Then the servants brought in coffee, extinguished the candles and drew +back the curtains.</p> + +<p>"Good lord, we're more like a party of painted corpses than creatures of +flesh and blood," cried a lady with excessively rouged cheeks, bright +bird-like eyes and a long, thin hooked nose. "I declare positively I'll +play no more. Besides the luck's all one way, but 'tis not my fault. I +don't want to win every time."</p> + +<p>"How generous—how thoughtful of your ladyship,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> sarcastically remarked +a handsome woman on the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, madam?" fiercely inquired the first speaker who was +now standing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing madam," was the retort accompanied by a curtsey of mock +humility. "Everybody knows Lady Anastasia's pleasant way of drawing off +when she has won and the luck's beginning to turn against her."</p> + +<p>"I despise your insinuations madam," loftily replied Lady Anastasia, her +face where it was not rouged turning the colour of putty. "So common a +creature as Mistress Salisbury—I prefer not to soil my lips by +addressing you as <i>Sally</i> Salisbury—I think that is the name by which +you are best known among the Cheapside 'prentices and my lord's +lackeys—ought to feel vastly honoured by being permitted to sit at the +same table with a woman of my rank."</p> + +<p>"Your <i>rank</i>? Indeed, you're quite right. It <i>is</i> rank. Foh!"</p> + +<p>The handsome face was expressive of contemptuous abhorrence and her +gesture emphasised the expression. Lady Anastasia was goaded to fury.</p> + +<p>"Why, you impudent, brazen-faced Drury Lane trull! A month at Bridewell +would do you good, you——"</p> + +<p>Her ladyship's vocabulary of abuse was pretty extensive but it was cut +short. A dice box with the ivories inside flew across the table hurled +with the full strength of a vigorous shapely arm. This was Sally +Salisbury's retort. A corner of a dice cut the lady's lip and a drop of +blood trickled on to her chin.</p> + +<p>Beyond herself with rage, Lady Anastasia seized a wine glass—a somewhat +dangerous projectile, for the wine glasses of the time were large and +thick and heavy—and would have dashed it at her antagonist but one of +the players, a man, grasped her wrist and held it.</p> + +<p>"Let her ladyship have her chance. She's entitled to it. A duel at a +masquerade between two women of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> fashion! Why, it'll be the talk of the +town for a whole week," and Sally Salisbury laughed derisively.</p> + +<p>But so vulgar a <i>fracas</i> was not to the taste of Lady Anastasia's +friends, besides which the attendants were alarmed and ran to prevent +further disturbance. They abstained, however, from interfering with +Sally Salisbury. Her ungovernable temper and her fear of nothing were +well known. If she once let herself go there was no telling where she +would stop. At this moment, however, her temper was under perfect +control and indeed she was rather enjoying herself.</p> + +<p>She rose, pushed away her chair with a backward kick to give room for +her ample hoops, and curtseying low to the company marched out of the +room without so much as a glance at her rival who was on the verge of +hysterics.</p> + +<p>Mistress Salisbury entered the ball-room, now tenanted by the dregs of +the company most of them more or less stupefied or excited, according to +their temperaments, by drink. In one corner was a young man whose richly +embroidered silk coat of a pale lavender was streaked with wine, whose +ruffles were torn and whose wig was awry. To him was talking in a thick +growling bass a man arrayed in a costume hardly befitting a ball-room, +unless indeed he wore it as a fancy dress. But his evil face, dark, +dirty, and inflamed by deep potations, the line of an old scar extending +from the corner of his mouth almost to his ear showing white against the +purple of his bloated cheek forbade this supposition.</p> + +<p>Captain Jeremy Rofflash in point of fact was very drunk. He had for the +last three or four hours been industriously engaged in getting rid of +some of the guineas of the old gentleman from Bath, in a boozing ken in +Whitefriars. Seasoned toper as he was he could carry his liquor without +it interfering with his head. About the effect on his legs he was not +quite so sure and at that moment his body was swaying ominously, but +thanks to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> his clutching a high backed chair he maintained his +equilibrium fairly well.</p> + +<p>"Idiot," snarled the young gentleman whose temper inebriation had +soured, "why the devil didn't you come here earlier? The coup might have +been brought off to-night. Gad, I want rousing. I'm just in the mood, +and the sight of that pretty, saucy, baggage—oh, you're a damned fool, +Rofflash!"</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Dorrimore will condescend to await my explanation," swaggered +Rofflash with drunken dignity, "he will admit that I've done nothing +foolish—nothing not permissible to a man of honour."</p> + +<p>"Devil take your honour."</p> + +<p>"Granted sir. The subject is not under discussion at the present moment. +Now, sir, what happened? As I've already informed you, I came across the +young poppinjay and the girl sweethearting on Moor Fields. She was in +his arms...."</p> + +<p>"In his arms! S'death! I'll run the impudent upstart through for that. +The girl's mine, by God. Where's the fellow to be found?"</p> + +<p>"All in good time, sir. Have a little patience. Aye, she was in his arms +but it's only fair to say that she had gone into a swoon."</p> + +<p>"A swoon? What the devil made her swoon? She's never swooned in <i>my</i> +arms and I've clipped her close enough. She giggled and tittered I grant +you, but never the ghost of a swoon."</p> + +<p>"There's no rule for the mad humour of a woman, as you must know, Mr. +Dorrimore."</p> + +<p>"But swooning—that's a sign she was in earnest. She was never in +earnest with me—just a hoyden asking to be won."</p> + +<p>"I crave your honour's pardon. The girl was in earnest enough when she +smashed your carriage window with the heel of her shoe and leaped out +like a young filly clearing a five barred gate."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pest! Don't remind me of that. It makes me sick when I think how I was +fooled and that you were such an ass as to let her slip."</p> + +<p>"Sir, I did my best and but for the spark who had the impudence to +thrust his nose into what didn't concern him, I'd have had her safe. But +I've made amends. I've run her to earth."</p> + +<p>"Satan's helped you then. Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"At her mother's house in the Old Bailey."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie."</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it's a lie. Her mother visited me at my chambers yesterday. +She'd got the story pat of Lavinia's running away with me from school +and all the rest of it. The old woman's not much better than Mother +Needham. Faith, she's a shade worse. She agreed to let me have the girl +for fifty guineas. She'd got the chit locked up she said. I went to her +Old Bailey hovel to-day—gad, I've got the smell of the cooked meats and +boiled greens in my nostrils at this minute—and damn it, she said the +girl had run away. And now you tell me she's there."</p> + +<p>"I do, sir. With these eyes which I flatter myself don't often mistake +when they rest on a well turned ankle, a trim waist and a pretty face. I +swear I saw her go into the house."</p> + +<p>"Ecod, I suppose I must believe you," rejoined Dorrimore sullenly. "But +what do you make of it all? Did the old woman lie?"</p> + +<p>"Without a doubt she did. If she's of Mother Needham's tribe she can lie +like truth. Lies are half of the trade and the other half is to squeeze +the cull of as much gold as he can be fooled out of. Can't you see sir, +that her trick is to spring her price? I'll wager her fifty guineas has +swollen to a hundred when next you see her. With traffickers in virgins +the price grows as rapidly as Jonah's gourd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aye, it may be so. Well, what then? Have you got a plan?"</p> + +<p>Captain Jeremy Rofflash placed a dirty forefinger by the side of his +nose, slowly closed one eye and a greasy smile widened his thick, red +moist lips.</p> + +<p>"Have I a plan, sir? Trust Jeremy Rofflash for that. By God, sir, I'll +swear there's no man in the world readier with a plan when its wanted. +Look ye here, Mr. Dorrimore, I've the whole thing cut and dried in the +hollow of my hand. To come to the point. The old harridan means to +fleece you. <i>I</i> don't. Damme sir, I'm a man of my word. For a hundred +guineas I'll let you into a secret and if I fail I won't ask you for a +stiver. Is that fair or isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll swear you're no better than Mother Fenton, but I'd rather deal +with a man than a woman. Done with you for a hundred. Say on."</p> + +<p>"It's just this. I was within earshot when the loving pair were in +Paul's Churchyard. They're to meet at Rosamond's Pond to-morrow evening +at seven. Now what's to prevent you being beforehand with the spark? The +park's lonely enough for our purpose and you have but to have your coach +ready and a man or two. A gag whipped over her mouth and we'll have her +inside the coach within a second and not a soul be the wiser."</p> + +<p>"Sounds mighty well, faith. But will she come? What of her mother? Will +the woman trust her out of sight?"</p> + +<p>"I'll back a wench against her dam for a thousand guineas if she's set +her heart on a man. Odds bodikins, if she comes not you won't lose. <i>I</i> +shall and it'll be the devil's own bad luck. No have, no pay. D'ye see +that my young squire?"</p> + +<p>Dorrimore could offer no contradiction. All that remained to be +discussed was what would follow supposing fortune favoured them, and +they subsided into a whispered conference which was after a time +interrupted by some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> Dorrimore's boon companions, who carried him off +to a wild revelry in the Covent Garden taverns with the last hour at the +"Finish," the tavern of ill-repute on the south side of the market.</p> + +<p>Rofflash would have accompanied the party but that a hand was laid on +his arm and a masked lady whispered:—</p> + +<p>"One moment, captain, I want you."</p> + +<p>He turned. He recognised the speaker by the lower part of her face, the +round, somewhat prominent chin, the imperious mouth with its sensual +lower lip, the bold sweeping contour from the chin to the ear.</p> + +<p>"Sally Salisbury—the devil!" he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Not quite, but a near relative may be," rejoined Sally with a sarcastic +laugh. "Who's the spark you're so thick with?"</p> + +<p>"The fool who's mad to get hold of the prettiest wench in town—Lavinia +Fenton."</p> + +<p>"That little trollop! I hate the creature. But there's no need to talk +of her. What of the man I paid you to track? Have you found him?"</p> + +<p>Rofflash watched her face, what he could see of it, for she had not +unmasked, and noted the slight quiver of the lips and the rise and fall +of her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Faith mistress," he chuckled with a drunken leer, "if you're not as +crazy over the beggarly scribbler as my young gallant is over the Fenton +girl who lives in the Old Bailey—at a coffee house, forsooth! Why, to +see the pother you're in one would think the hussy had put your nose out +of joint. Perhaps she has. She's fetching enough."</p> + +<p>Sally seized the captain's arm with a vigorous grip that showed the +intensity of her feelings. He winced and muttered an oath.</p> + +<p>"S'life," he burst out, "save your nails for the girl who's cut you out +with the scribbler."</p> + +<p>"She? You lie. What has he to do with the minx?"</p> + +<p>"As much as he need have to start with. Didn't he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> help her to escape +from Dorrimore's arms when the fool thought he had her safe?"</p> + +<p>"What!" screamed Sally, "Was <i>he</i> the man?"</p> + +<p>"Aye. I've not yet plucked the crow between him and me for that, but by +gad, I mean to pluck it."</p> + +<p>"It won't be by fair means then. You're too much of a coward. See here, +you devil. Lance Vane's mine, and if you dare so much as to lay a finger +on him you will know what <i>I</i> can do. There's but one road for gentry of +your profession—the road to Tyburn—and you'll take it if you cross me. +It'll be as easy as <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>She dealt the braggart a blow across the nose and eyes with her closed +fan. The sticks snapped and in a white heat of passion she broke them +again and again and flung the fragments in the discomfited captain's +face.</p> + +<p>Her fury and his smarting nose somewhat sobered Rofflash. He knew well +enough that when Sally was in her cups she was capable of any deed of +violence. Years after, indeed, her temper led to her undoing when +inflamed by drink and jealousy she stabbed the Honourable John Finch at +"The Three Tuns" in Chandos Street.</p> + +<p>Rofflash hastened to mollify the enraged beauty, and did so effectually +when he suggested a plan by which she could mortify her rival.</p> + +<p>Sally heard him almost silently. Jeremy's plan was so much to her taste +that in a measure she was able to control herself, though her arms, +rigid by her sides, and her tightly clenched hands showed that her +nerves were still unstrung.</p> + +<p>"You see, mistress, you did me an injustice," growled Rofflash. "I have +worked for you, aye and right well. What do <i>I</i> get for doing it?"</p> + +<p>"You shall have all the coin that old miser Mountchance gives me for +your next haul of trinkets. I won't touch a farthing for my trouble."</p> + +<p>Rofflash stipulated for money down.</p> + +<p>"You won't get a stiver," retorted Sally. "I'm as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> cleaned out as a +gutted herring. That cheating cat Anastasia bagged every shilling I +had."</p> + +<p>Rofflash had no reason to doubt Sally's word. He knew the phenomenal +luck which attended Lady Anastasia's play and he had to be contented +with promises.</p> + +<p>Thus they parted.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h4>"THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF MAKING LOVE"</h4> + +<p>Rofflash was right. He <i>had</i> seen Lavinia enter the Old Bailey coffee +house. Hannah was sitting up expecting her—she had arranged as much +with Lavinia—and she became terribly uneasy when midnight sounded from +half a dozen church clocks and the girl still absent.</p> + +<p>Hannah's bedroom overlooked the Old Bailey and now and again she leaned +out of the window, her eyes towards Ludgate Hill. Lavinia was bound to +come in this direction. Sure enough about half-past twelve Hannah caught +sight of a cloaked figure stealing along in the centre of the roadway. +It was the safest way; the overhanging storeys and the sunk doorways +offered lurking places for ill-conditioned fellows on the scent for +mischief. Hannah indeed caught sight of a man in the deep shadow of the +houses who looked very much as if he were following Lavinia, and she +raced softly down to the shop, opened the door and beckoned the girl to +hasten.</p> + +<p>"Merciful Heaven, what a fright you've put me in to be sure," she +whispered, throwing her arms about Lavinia. "Come in you truant. Lord, I +do believe you was born<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> to plague me out of my seven senses. You look +tired to death. What have you been a-doing of? But don't worry to tell +me now. You must eat something first. Why, you're all of a tremble. Was +you frightened of that rascal as was dogging you?"</p> + +<p>"Was there one? I didn't know it."</p> + +<p>"One? I wonder there wasn't a dozen. A pretty young thing like you to be +in the streets at this ungodly hour. There he is a stopping now and +looking this way. Let him look. He won't see nought."</p> + +<p>And Hannah shut to the door with more noise than she intended, much to +Lavinia's alarm lest her mother should be aroused.</p> + +<p>"No fear o' that, child. Your mother's had as much gin an' beer as she +can carry. It was as good as I could do to get her up the stairs to her +bedroom. Sure she's mad about your running away out of reach. I've had a +nice time with her. But it 'ud take all the trumpets as blowed down the +walls of Jericho to wake her now."</p> + +<p>When the door was securely locked and bolted there was more hugging, and +Hannah's strong arms half led, half carried the girl into the kitchen +where a fire was smouldering which a bellows soon fanned into a blaze. +Eggs and bacon were put on to cook and Lavinia, curled in a roomy chair, +watched the kindly young woman's proceedings with great contentment.</p> + +<p>Lavinia told Hannah her story in fragments, saying nothing about +Lancelot Vane. Hannah's mind was a blank as to Pope and Gay and she was +more interested in the encounter with the highwayman. She did not ask +much about Giles, but Lavinia guessed it was a subject dear to her heart +and she did not forget to describe his mother, his cottage, and +everything about them very minutely. Nor did she omit to praise his +respectful civility and his good heart.</p> + +<p>"And now all's said and done, Hannah," she cried, "what's to become of +me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aye, bless your heart, that's the trouble. This morning I put on my +considering cap an' was a-thinking and a-thinking when who should pop +her face in but my cousin Betty Higgins as lives at Hampstead. 'La, +Betty,' I says, 'where have you dropped from?' 'Ah,' says she, 'you may +well say that. I've been a-comin' for goodness knows how long knowin' as +my clothes line was a-gettin' as rotten as rotten could be. Yesterday +the wind caught the sheets and blankets as I'd just hung out an' down +they all plumped on a muddy patch an' had to be dropped in the tub +again. I wasn't a-goin' to have that happen a second time so I've come +up to buy a new line in Long Lane an' some soap at Couplands an' here I +be as large as life.' That put a notion in my head, Lavvy, my dear. I +told her about you and she's promised me a little room as she don't use +much, an' that's where you're going when you've had a sleep."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hannah, how good you are," cried Lavinia between her kisses. "But +Hampstead! Why, that's where all the fashion goes! The Hampstead water +cures everything they say."</p> + +<p>"May be," rejoined Hannah dryly. "But there's other things besides as +I'll warrant the quality like better than the well water—nasty stuff it +is. I once drank a glass at Sam's coffee house at Ludgate where it's +brought fresh every morning and it nearly turned my stomach. There's +music an' dancing in the Pump Room and dicing and cards at Mother Huff's +near the Spaniards, aye an' lovemaking in the summer time by moonlight. +I dunno if it's a safe place for a mad young thing like you to be living +at when the sparks are roaming about."</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" retorted Lavinia tossing her head. "I ought to know how to take +care of myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you ought. But can you?"</p> + +<p>"You silly old Hannah. Hampstead can't be worse for me than London."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. If you couldn't be guarded at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> Queen Square boarding +school with a female dragon as can use her eyes, why there's no place in +the world where the men won't chase you."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's not my fault. <i>I</i> don't chase <i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>"There's no need for you to do that, you baggage. You've only got to +give any one of them a glance and he gallops after you."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do if I can't alter myself?"</p> + +<p>"Goodness knows. Things must go their own way I suppose. You can't stop +here, that's sure. It'll have to be Hampstead. But don't forget I've +warned you."</p> + +<p>Then they both crept up to Hannah's room, and at six o'clock the next +morning they were astir, Lavinia making a hurried breakfast and +preparing to set out on her long walk. There was no conveyance as the +stage coach on the Great North Road through Highgate and Finchley did +not start until later in the day, and Hannah, a good hearted soul never +so happy as when helping others, gave Lavinia all the money she could +spare with which to pay her sister-in-law a small sum every week.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I should do but for you, Hannah dear," said Lavinia +gratefully. "It's shameful to take your money, but I swear I'll pay back +every penny, and before long too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, when you've married a rich man."</p> + +<p>"No, no. I'm not thinking of being married. I shall be earning money +soon."</p> + +<p>"Tilly vally! How, miss, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's a secret. Mr. Gay says so and he ought to know."</p> + +<p>"It's well if he does. Your Mr. Gay seems to be taking a mighty deal of +notice of you. I only hope it'll all end well," said Hannah with a +solemn shake of the head.</p> + +<p>"End well? Indeed it will. Why shouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia laughed confidently, and her joyful tone and her face so bright +with its contrast with her desolate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> condition brought a furtive tear to +Hannah's eye, but she took care not to let the girl see it.</p> + +<p>The morning had broken fair and by seven o'clock Lavinia was trudging +along Holborn on her way to Hampstead through what is known now as +Tottenham Court Road, then little more than a wide country lane.</p> + +<p>At Great Turnstile she lingered and her eyes wandered down the narrow +passage. Great Turnstile led to Lincoln's Inn Fields, and in Portugal +Row on the south side of the "Fields" was the Duke's Theatre. +Association of ideas was too strong to be resisted. Thinking of the +theatre, how could she help also thinking of Gay's encouragement as to +herself—of Lancelot Vane and his tragedy?</p> + +<p>Another thought was lurking at the back of her mind. She had gone to +sleep dwelling upon her promise to meet Vane at Rosamond's Pond. Did she +mean to keep that promise? She could not decide. She had given her +consent under a sort of compulsion. Was it therefore binding? At any +rate if she went to Hampstead the meeting was impossible.</p> + +<p>It was this last reflection which made her linger. Reasons for altering +her plans chased each other through her brain. The poor fellow would be +so disappointed if he did not see her. How long would he wait? How +wretched his garret would appear when he returned disconsolate! His +despondency might drive him to break <i>his</i> promise to her. Where was the +harm in keeping her appointment instead of going to Hampstead? No harm +at all save that she would be behaving ungratefully to Hannah. But +Hannah would understand. Hannah was never without a sweetheart of a +sort.</p> + +<p>A sweetheart? That was the important point for Lavinia. Was Lancelot her +sweetheart? She wondered. She blushed at the idea. It agitated her. She +had not felt agitated when she ran away with Dorrimore—just a pleasant +thrill of excitement, a sense of adventure; that was all. Dorrimore had +made downright love to her;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> he had called her all the pet names in +fashion. His admiration flattered and amused her, nothing more. Vane +hadn't made love—at least it didn't seem to her that he had. But there +are so many ways of making love!</p> + +<p>"Hampstead's miles away," she mused. "If I go there we shall hardly ever +see each other. At all events I ought to tell him where I shall be +living. It won't be a surprise. He thinks I'm a fine lady and it's the +fashion for fine ladies to go to Hampstead at this time of the year. It +might make him jealous though," she added thoughtfully, "if he knows of +the lovemaking by moonlight Hannah talked about."</p> + +<p>She could decide upon nothing, and rather than loiter in Holborn while +trying to solve the problem she entered Great Turnstile passage and +presently was in the quietude of Lincoln's Inn Fields. At night she +would not have ventured to cross this big open space haunted as it was +after dark by footpads and pickpockets, but at that early hour of the +morning there was nothing to fear. Only a few people were about and in +the enclosure railed off from the roadway by posts was a horse being +broken in. The theatre was a link between her and Lancelot Vane and +thinking of him she walked towards it.</p> + +<p>The Fields were crossed by two roads running diagonally from opposite +corners and intersecting each other at the centre. Lavinia took the road +which led to the southwestern angle. Close by this angle was the Duke's +Theatre.</p> + +<p>Lavinia reached the plain unpretending structure which looked at from +the outside might be mistaken for a warehouse, and she gazed at its +blank front wondering if fate meant to be kind and give her the chance +her soul longed for. But in spite of Mr. Gay's encouraging hints it +seemed impossible that she would ever sing within its walls.</p> + +<p>She turned away sorrowfully and came cheek by jowl with a slenderly +built thin-faced man whose eyes twinkled humorously, and with mobile +lips that somehow suggested comicality. He stopped and stared; +apparently trying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> to recall some remembrance of her. She recognised him +at once. He was Jemmy Spiller the most popular comedian of the day. +Everybody who had any acquaintance with Clare Market knew Jem Spiller. +So much so that a tavern there was called after him.</p> + +<p>"Faith, young madam, I've seen you before," said he. "Where, pray, was +it?"</p> + +<p>"I've sung inside the 'Spiller's Head' more than once a year and more +ago," returned Lavinia with the demure look which was so characteristic +and at the same time so engaging.</p> + +<p>"What, are you that saucy little baggage? By the Lord, let me look at +you again."</p> + +<p>Spiller's laughing eyes roamed over her from head to foot and his shrewd +face wrinkled into the quizzical expression which had often times sent +his audience into a roar. Lavinia laughed too.</p> + +<p>"Aye, you haven't lost the trick of sending a look that goes straight as +an arrow to a man's heart. Tell me, was it not you that Mr. Gay took +under his wing? At the 'Maiden Head,' wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I've much to thank Mr. Gay for and you as well, Mr. Spiller. You +and your friends from the market saved me from a clawed face."</p> + +<p>"Why to be sure. That fury Sal Salisbury had her spurs on. She'd have +half killed you but for us coming to the spot at the right time. But, +child, what have you been doing? Hang me if you haven't sprung into a +woman in a few months."</p> + +<p>It was true. When Spiller last saw her she was hardly better than a waif +and stray. She was thin and bony, her growth impeded by insufficient +food, irregular hours and not a little ill usage. At Miss Pinwell's she +had lived well, she was happy, she had had love illusions and Nature had +asserted its sway.</p> + +<p>Lavinia coloured with pleasure. To be complimented by Spiller, the idol +of the public—an actor—and she adored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> actors—was like the +condescension of a god. She dropped him a low curtsey.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and you're in the fashion too. How long have you been a fine lady?"</p> + +<p>Spiller's voice and manner had become slightly serious. Lavinia was too +familiar with London life not to understand the inference.</p> + +<p>"I owe it all to Mr. Gay," she answered quickly. "He is the kindest +hearted man in the world. You see he spoke to her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry about me and she sent me to school in Queen Square."</p> + +<p>"What, you've rubbed shoulders with the quality, have you? How comes it +then that you talk to me—a rogue and a vagabond?"</p> + +<p>"You a rogue and a vagabond! Indeed you're not. I—I'm afraid, though, +I'm one. I doubt if her grace would notice me now."</p> + +<p>"The devil she wouldn't! What's happened then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a long story. I should tire you if I were to tell you."</p> + +<p>"A pretty girl tire me? What do you take me for, Polly? It is Polly, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gay called me Polly, but it isn't my right name."</p> + +<p>"Good enough for me, my dear. But what have you done? A harmless bit of +mischief when all's said, I'll swear."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," rejoined Lavinia slowly. "I didn't mean any harm but I +suppose I was very silly."</p> + +<p>"Well, let me have the catalogue of your sins and I'll be judge."</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h4>"SOME DAY YOU'LL BE THE TALK OF THE TOWN"</h4> + +<p>As the two paced up and down in front of the playhouse Lavinia told the +actor the whole story. Spiller smiled indulgently at the love portion of +the narrative, but was impressed by the test Lavinia had gone through at +Pope's Villa and by Gay's belief in her future.</p> + +<p>In Spiller's opinion there was no reason why Lavinia should not succeed +as a comedy actress. Her want of experience was nothing. Her natural +vivacity and intelligence were everything. Experience would soon come. +What actress who in those days became celebrated had had much training +before she went on the boards? Where was the opportunity with but four +theatres in London and one of them devoted to opera?</p> + +<p>People were still living who could remember Kynaston the beautiful youth +as the sole representative of women's parts before actresses were known +on the stage. Nell Gwynne came from the gutter, and Nance Oldfield from +a public house in St. James's Market. Mrs. Barry had possibly had some +training under Davenant, who secured her an engagement, and she was at +first a failure. She was destined for tragedy and tragic actresses are +not made in five minutes, but comedy demanded little more than inborn +sprightliness and high spirits. Lavinia had both, and she could sing.</p> + +<p>Spiller, comedian as he was, possessed what we now call the artistic +temperament. He was not contented with the mannerisms which provoke a +laugh and because they never vary—the characteristic of many comedians +who like to be recognised and applauded directly they step upon the +stage. Spiller bestowed the greatest pains upon his "make up", and so +identified himself with the part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> he was playing as completely to lose +his own personality, and bewildered his audience as to whether he was +their favourite they were applauding. He had the art of acting at his +fingers' ends.</p> + +<p>"Child," said he when Lavinia had finished, "Mr. Gay and Dr. Pepusch did +not mistake. You've but to observe and work and some day you'll be the +talk of the town."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean that, Mr. Spiller?"</p> + +<p>The girl's voice was tremulous with delight. Spiller's praise was of +greater value than Gay's. He was an actor and knew.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't say so if I didn't. I mustn't lose sight of you. A pity +you'll be staying at Hampstead. I'd like to take you to Mr. Rich. You +ought to be near at hand."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to go to Hampstead. I hate the very notion," cried +Lavinia breathlessly. "If I could only find a lodging in town!"</p> + +<p>"That might be managed. There are lodgings to be had in the house in +Little Queen Street where Mrs. Egleton lives. But have you any money?"</p> + +<p>"Enough to keep me for a week. Maybe Mr. Rich would find something for +me to do. I can dance as well as sing."</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant you, but John Rich does all the dancing himself, and as +for singing—he doesn't think much of it. But we'll see. Wouldn't your +friend the duchess help you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'm afraid I'm out of her grace's favour," said Lavinia +dolefully. "Besides, she might want to send me back to Queen Square. +Lud, I couldn't bear that. Miss Pinwell wouldn't have me, though," she +added in a tone of relief.</p> + +<p>"I'll wager she wouldn't," said Spiller dryly. "She'd be in mortal fear +of the whole of her young ladies following your example and running away +with the town sparks. Well, we'll see what can be done for you, Polly, +though I fear me I'm going to have a sad pickle on my hands."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, pray don't say that, Mr. Spiller. What's happened was not my +doing."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But let us to Little Queen Street. If Mrs. Egleton is in +the mood she may be of use to you. But take care not to ruffle her +plumes. You've heard of her I doubt not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I saw her once at Drury Lane. She sings does she not, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, so mind and not outsing her."</p> + +<p>They walked along the western side of the Fields to Little Queen Street, +where the houses were substantial enough, though not nearly so imposing +as those in Great Queen Street where many noblemen and rich people +lived.</p> + +<p>Spiller was well known to the proprietor of the house, where Mrs. +Egleton lodged and was received with effusion. Mrs. Egleton was not up, +as indeed Spiller expected, nor would she be until past mid-day. But +this did not matter. The landlady had a front attic vacant which she was +willing to let to anyone recommended by Mr. Spiller for a very small +sum, and here Lavinia installed herself.</p> + +<p>"Have a rest, Polly, and something to eat," said Spiller. "I shall call +for you about eleven o'clock. I want you to look your best. We're going +to see Mr. Rich. Heaven give us luck that we may find him in good +humour."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean this morning?" cried Lavinia, in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't mean this evening. You're not afraid, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think I am, but—but I would that I had a new gown and +cloak. See how frightfully draggled they are."</p> + +<p>"Odds bodikins, Mr. Rich doesn't want to see how you're gowned. Mrs. +Sanders will lend you a needle and thread and help you patch yourself."</p> + +<p>Lavinia would have protested but Spiller laughed away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> her objections, +and departed with a final injunction to be in readiness when he called.</p> + +<p>When the girl was alone she looked around her new abode with interest +and curiosity. The room was small; it had a sloping roof coming so low +at one end where the bed was that she would have to take care not to +strike her head against the ceiling when she sat up. The furniture was +scanty and plain but the place was clean. For the first time in her life +she was completely her own mistress. She sank into a roomy arm-chair, +and surveyed her domain with much satisfaction; then she half closed her +eyes and indulged in a day dream.</p> + +<p>Everything in the most wonderful way had turned out for the best. She +dreaded being banished to Hampstead. It had threatened insuperable +obstacles in the way of her love and her ambition. She had felt that she +was going into exile. But all was now smooth. Her scruples about keeping +her promise to Vane vanished. If only her visit to Mr. Rich proved +successful, her happiness would be complete.</p> + +<p>The time sped in her roseate musings. She had had a rest as Spiller +advised and springing up she attacked her ragged attire with renewed +energy. When Spiller called, she looked so fresh and animated the +comedian laughed and complimented her.</p> + +<p>"Gadsooks," he exclaimed, "you clever hussy! It's well our plans are +altered. If Rich not only offered thee an engagement but made love into +the bargain then the fat would be in the fire. He hath a termagant of a +wife. She'd as lief scratch your face as look at you. But thank the Lord +you're safe."</p> + +<p>"Safe? I don't understand," cried Lavinia a little flustered. "Am I not +to see Mr. Rich then?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Didn't I say our plans are altered? The Duke's is in turmoil. +Rich let the theatre to Huddy and his company of strolling players—at +least Huddy says he did—and has now cried off the bargain and Huddy is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +turned out. Rich hasn't any play ready so it's no use taking you to +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how unlucky! I shan't have any chance after all."</p> + +<p>Poor Lavinia almost broke down. The shattering of her castle in the air +was more than she could endure.</p> + +<p>"Not with Rich just yet. But don't despair. Huddy has taken his company +to the New Theatre and it'll go hard if I don't talk him into putting +you into a part. It may be all for the best. You'd only get a promise +out of Rich whereas Huddy might be glad to get you. He's in a mighty +hurry to open the theatre. We'll go at once to the Haymarket."</p> + +<p>Lavinia was a little disappointed, but not dismayed. After all an +immediate entrance into the magical stage world was the important point. +She had to begin somewhere, and to play at the New Theatre was not like +playing in an inn yard or mumming booth.</p> + +<p>They reached the stage door of the New Theatre, afterwards called the +Little Theatre in the Haymarket, which it may be said in passing was not +quite on the site of the present Haymarket Theatre. The entrance was +small, the passage beyond was dark and they had to grope their way to +the stage, which lighted as it was by half a dozen candles or so was +gloomy enough. The daylight struggled into the audience part through a +few small windows above the gallery. A rehearsal was going on, and a red +faced man with a hoarse voice was stamping about and shouting at the +performers. When he saw Spiller he stopped and came towards the +comedian. Compared with Huddy, Spiller was a great man.</p> + +<p>Spiller stated his business and introduced Lavinia. The manager stared +at her, shifted his wig, scratched his head and grunted something to the +effect that he couldn't afford to pay anybody making a first appearance.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ee here, Mr. Spiller. It's my benefit and my company don't expect +a penny. D'ye see! I've been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> used in a rascally fashion by that +scoundrel Rich, and I'll have to raise a few guineas afore I can start +in the country."</p> + +<p>Spiller saw the position and said that the young lady who he was careful +to point out was a "gentlewoman" was quite willing to appear on these +terms and so the matter was settled.</p> + +<p>"She won't have much of a part. We're playing 'The Orphan' and all I can +give her is Serina. I've had to make shift with the young 'oman as +carries the drum and looks after the wardrobe. It's likely as the young +gentlewoman'll do as well as her, a careless, idle slut as don't know +how to speak her words decently."</p> + +<p>Nor did Mr. Huddy, Lavinia thought. But this was nothing. The owner of a +travelling play acting booth was as a rule an illiterate showman.</p> + +<p>"When do you rehearse 'The Orphan?'" asked Spiller.</p> + +<p>"We're a-doing of it now. It's just over or the young gentlewoman—you +haven't told me her name——"</p> + +<p>"Fenton—Lavinia Fenton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aye. I was a-going to say that if we hadn't finished Miss Fenton +might stay and get some notion of the play. Let her come +to-morrow—half-past ten, sharp, mind."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, Polly?" said Spiller in an undertone.</p> + +<p>"I shan't fail, sir, you may be sure," replied Lavinia joyfully.</p> + +<p>Spiller knew some of the company and he introduced Lavinia to the +leading lady, Mrs. Haughton, who was to play the mournful, weeping +Monimia in Otway's dismal tragedy. But for Spiller the "star" actress +would hardly have deigned to notice the girl; as it was she received +Lavinia with affability marked by condescension. Mrs. Haughton was a +"star," who did not care to associate with strolling players.</p> + +<p>Lavinia left the theatre in the seventh heaven of delight. Everything +she had wished for was coming to pass. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> longed for the evening. She +saw herself telling the wonderful tale of her good luck to Lancelot. She +was sure of his warm sympathy and she pictured to herself his smile and +the ardent look in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Spiller suggested a walk in the Mall so that he might give the novice a +few practical hints. Huddy had handed Lavinia her part written out, but +it did not tell her much, as everything the other characters in the play +had to say was omitted and only the cues for Serina left.</p> + +<p>"Just sixteen lines you've got to learn. That won't give you much +trouble. I'll show you how to say them. Don't forget to listen for the +cues and come in at the proper place."</p> + +<p>The lesson did not take long. Lavinia soon had a grasp of the character +(Serina figures in the play as a bit of padding and has very little to +do); her articulation was clear and she could modulate her voice +prettily. Spiller said she would do very well, and wishing her good +luck, took his departure and left her in St. James's Park.</p> + +<p>He could not have done Lavinia a better turn. Rosamond's Pond was at the +south-west corner of the Park and Rosamond's Pond was in Lavinia's mind. +It had occurred to her that Lancelot had not fixed any particular spot +as the place of meeting. The pond was of a fair size, it would be dark +and it might so happen that while he was waiting for her on one side she +might be on the other. Still, this was scarcely likely, for they would +both approach the Pond from the east.</p> + +<p>However, there would be no harm in fixing the bearings of the pond in +her mind and so she crossed the park and skirting the formal canal now +transformed into the ornamental water, reached the pond which was at the +end of Birdcage Walk near Buckingham House, an enlarged version of which +is known to us to-day as Buckingham Palace.</p> + +<p>The pond was amidst picturesque surroundings. There was nothing of the +primness which William III. had brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> with him from Holland. The +trees had been allowed to grow as they pleased, the shrubs were +untrimmed, the grass uncut. The banks of the pond were steep in places, +shelving in others. Here and there were muddy patches left by the water +receding after heavy rains. But the wildness and the seclusion had their +attractions, and little wonder was it that love had marked Rosamond's +Pond as its own.</p> + +<p>There was something like a promenade on the higher ground to the east. +Here it was dry and Lavinia decided that this was the most likely spot +which Lancelot would select. Moreover, a path from the Mall near St. +James's Palace led direct to the Pond and by this path Vane would be +sure to come.</p> + +<p>The crisp air was exhilarating and the young grass gave it sweetness. +The twittering of the birds suggested a passage of love. The mid-day sun +shone upon the distant Abbey and very romantic did its towers look +against the blue sky.</p> + +<p>Lavinia's spirits rose. She felt very happy. Her real life was +beginning. All that had happened, her mad escapade with Dorrimore, the +baseness of her mother, her escape from the house in the Old Bailey, her +many trials and tribulations were mere trifles to be forgotten as soon +as possible. But her thoughts of Lancelot Vane—oh, they were serious +enough. There was no pretence about them. And to fill her cup of joy +would be her first appearance on the stage!</p> + +<p>For a brief space this overpowered everything. Coming to a bench she sat +down, drew out the manuscript of the play and read over her part and +recalled everything Spiller had said about the various points. When she +rose she knew the lines and the cues by heart. Then it occurred to her +that she was hungry and she pursued her way back to her lodgings in +Little Queen Street.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h4>AT ROSAMUND'S POND</h4> + +<p>In the course of the day Lavinia made the acquaintance of Mrs. Egleton. +The landlady had told the actress how Spiller had brought Lavinia and +how the latter was to appear at the New Theatre. Mrs. Egleton, a dark +young woman somewhat pallid and with eyes which suggested that she had a +temper which she would be ready to show if put out, was languid and +patronising. Though it was past noon the lady had not long got out of +bed, and her dress was careless, her hair straggling, her complexion +sallow and the dark half circles beneath her eyes were significant of +nerve exhaustion. She had in fact the night before sat up late gaming, +dancing, eating, drinking—especially drinking—with a party of friends. +The time was to come when she and Lavinia would be closely associated, +but at that moment it was the last thing that entered into the heads of +either.</p> + +<p>Mindful of her appointment Lavinia set out early. She had taken great +pains over her toilet and she looked very attractive. She had no need of +paint and powder. Excitement had brought a flush to her cheek. The +fluttering of her heart, the impatience at the lagging time were new +sensations. She had experienced nothing like this disturbing emotion +when she set out on a much more hazardous enterprise to meet Archibald +Dorrimore. The difference puzzled her but she did not trouble to seek +the reason. It did not occur to her that she was really and truly in +love with Lancelot Vane.</p> + +<p>She had plenty of time to reach the trysting place, but to walk slowly +was impossible. Her nerves were in too much of a quiver. It hardly +wanted a half hour of seven o'clock when she entered upon the path, +leading from St. James's Palace to the pond.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>Vane was not less desirous of being punctual than Lavinia, and he had +indeed arrived at Rosamond's Pond some five minutes before her. While he +was impatiently pacing by the side of the water and anxiously looking +along the path by which he expected she would come, a lady whose dress +was in the height of the mode and masked approached him. In those days a +mask did not necessarily imply mystery. A mask was worn to serve as a +veil and a woman with her features thus hidden did not excite more +attention than that of mere curiosity. Vane had noticed her turning her +face towards him as she passed, but thought nothing of it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she stopped, stepped back a pace and whispered softly:—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vane, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"That is my name, madam."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I hoped I was not mistaken. You don't remember me?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your forgiveness if I say I do not."</p> + +<p>"Nor a certain night not long ago when you were flying from a ruffianly +mob and you sought the shelter of my house? But may be you've a short +memory. Mine isn't so fleeting. Men's kisses are lightly bestowed. Women +are different. I shall never forget the tender touch of your lips."</p> + +<p>She sighed, lifted her mask for a moment and replaced it. To Vane's +infinite confusion he recognised Sally Salisbury.</p> + +<p>"Madam," he faltered, "I—I venture to suggest that you're under a +misapprehension. It was not I who kissed."</p> + +<p>Sally drew herself up with a disdainful air. She had a fine figure and +she knew how to display it.</p> + +<p>"What?" she cried. "Do you dare to deny your farewell embrace?"</p> + +<p>"Madam—really I——"</p> + +<p>He was more embarrassed than ever. It was untrue to say that he had +kissed her. The kisses were hers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> hers alone, but it would be +ungallant to tell her so. He cursed the evil star which had chanced to +throw her against him at such a crisis. Lavinia might make her +appearance at any moment and what would she think?</p> + +<p>But the stars had nothing to do with the matter, nor chance either. It +was a ruse, a worked out design between Sally and Rofflash to secure +Vane and spite Lavinia whom she hated more than enough.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lavinia was drawing near. Mistress Salisbury had shifted her +position and had manoeuvred so as she could glance down the path to St. +James's Palace and perforce Vane had his back towards it. Sally's sharp +eyes caught sight of a figure which she shrewdly guessed was Lavinia's.</p> + +<p>Preparing herself for a crowning piece of craft, Sally suddenly relaxed +her rigidity and inclined langorously towards Vane who had no +alternative save catching her. No sooner did she feel his arms than she +sank gracefully into them, her handkerchief to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Madam," stammered the troubled young man, "pray recollect yourself. I +protest——"</p> + +<p>"Protest! Oh, how cruel—how hard hearted! I love you. Can you hear me +make such a confession and be unmoved? I throw myself at your feet."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, madam, don't do anything so foolish."</p> + +<p>He could feel her slipping gradually to the ground and he could not but +hold her tighter, and so did exactly what she was angling for.</p> + +<p>"It's Heaven to feel your embrace," she murmured. "Dear—dearest +Lancelot. Oh, if you only knew how I've longed and prayed we might meet! +I never thought to see you again, and here, without a moment's warning, +I'm face to face with you. Can you wonder I'm unable to control myself? +I know it's folly—weakness—anything you like to call it. I don't care. +I love you and that's all I know. Kiss me, Lancelot!"</p> + +<p>The unhappy Vane was at his wits' end. The more he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> tried to release +himself the closer she clung to him. Who seeing them could doubt that +they were ardent lovers? Sally's last words were uttered in a tone of +reckless passion, partly stimulated, partly real. She had raised her +voice purposely. She knew its penetrating accents would reach the ears +for which the loving words were really intended. She saw Lavinia who was +hastening towards them stop suddenly, then her figure swayed slightly, +her head bent forward, and in a few moments there was hesitation. +Finally she wheeled round and fled.</p> + +<p>Sally Salisbury had secured a complete victory so far as her rival was +concerned, but she had not won Lancelot Vane. She did not delude herself +into the belief that she had, but her triumph would come.</p> + +<p>Vane succeeded in wrenching himself free, but not for some minutes. On +one excuse or another she detained him and it was only on his promising +to meet her the following night at Spring Gardens that he managed to +make his escape. It was too late. In vain he waited for Lavinia, but she +came not. He was plunged in the depths of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"She never meant to keep her word," he muttered savagely and strode +along the path towards St. James's Palace, hoping against hope that he +might chance to meet her.</p> + +<p>Lancelot Vane was not the only man in the park at that moment who was +angered at Lavinia's non-appearance. When Vane was trying to repel +Sally's embarrassing caresses a coach stopped on the western side of the +Park at the point nearest to Rosamond's Pond. The coach could have been +driven into the Park itself, but this could not be done without the +King's permission. Two men got out and walked rapidly to the pond.</p> + +<p>"A quarter past seven," said one drawing his watch from his fob. "The +time of meeting, Rofflash, you say was seven."</p> + +<p>"Aye, and they'll be punctual to the minute, I'll swear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then we ought to find the turtle doves billing and cooing. A thousand +pities we couldn't get the coach nearer. Damn His Majesty King George, +say I."</p> + +<p>"Talk under your breath, Mr. Dorrimore, if you must air your traitorous +speeches," whispered Rofflash. "You don't seem to know that what you've +been saying is little short of 'God save King James,' which is treason +in any case and doubly dyed treason when uttered in the Royal Park."</p> + +<p>"Treason or not, I vow that if my coach were more handy it would help us +vastly. Carrying the girl a few yards were an easy matter and a squeal +or two of no consequence, but five hundred yards—pest take it."</p> + +<p>"S'blood, sir, she's no great weight and with so precious a burden in +your arms 't'would be but a whet to appetite. Still, if you're unequal +to the task, pray command me. I'd take her and willing."</p> + +<p>"That I'll swear you would. Wait till I call on you. What of that pair +by the pond? Curse it, but I believe they're our quarries. She has two +arms round his neck. The wanton baggage! And she once protested she +loved me! On to 'em, Rofflash. Engage the fellow while I handle the +wench. Eh?—Why—look ye there, captain. He's thrown her off. He's +going. A tiff I'll swear. What a piece of luck! She's by herself. Now's +our time. Bustle, damn you."</p> + +<p>Rofflash made a show of bustling, but it was nothing but show. The +mature damsel from whom Vane had hurried was half a head taller than +Lavinia. He knew who she was perfectly well, for had he not plotted with +Sally Salisbury to meet Lancelot Vane, to the discomfiture of Lavinia +Fenton?</p> + +<p>The crafty Rofflash had contrived to have two strings to his bow. +Dorrimore would pay him to help abduct Lavinia, and Sally would do the +same for his good offices concerning Vane. He had certainly succeeded in +the latter case, but as to Lavinia, the certainty was not so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> evident. +She was nowhere to be seen. Dorrimore, however, for the moment was under +the impression that the woman who was standing gazing at Vane's +retreating figure was Lavinia and it was not Rofflash's game to +undeceive him.</p> + +<p>Dorrimore soon discovered his mistake.</p> + +<p>"Sally Salisbury! The devil!"</p> + +<p>Of course he recognised her. What fashionable profligate young or old +would not?</p> + +<p>"Why Archie," rejoined the lady laughingly and making him a mocking +curtsey, "were you looking for me? Faith, I'm glad of it. A bottle of +Mountain port would be exactly to my taste."</p> + +<p>"Was that your gallant who left you just now?"</p> + +<p>"One of them," said Sally coolly.</p> + +<p>Dorrimore turned angrily to Rofflash.</p> + +<p>"What the devil does this mean? Have you tricked me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll swear I haven't. If anybody's been playing tricks it's that crazy +cat Sally," returned Rofflash in a low voice. "Your bird can't have +flown very far. Her man was here, you see. Let's follow him. We're bound +to light upon them together."</p> + +<p>The suggestion was as good as any other. Dorrimore refreshed himself +with a string of the latest oaths in fashion and set off with the +scheming captain, leaving Sally somewhat provoked. She had had many a +guinea from Dorrimore, and was in the mood to get more now that her +spite against Lavinia was gratified.</p> + +<p>The two men raced off at the double, Dorrimore's rage increasing the +further he went. It looked as if his plan to kidnap Lavinia had broken +down. The idea had been to waylay her before she joined Vane. As the +thing was turning out, she promised, when found, to be at so great a +distance from the coach that to convey her there would be difficult.</p> + +<p>Before long they hove in sight of Lancelot Vane. He too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> was hurrying +and looking right and left as he went. And he was alone.</p> + +<p>"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That +wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash, +I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him."</p> + +<p>"And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against +the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll +say good evening. I'll have nought to do with such folly. We'll find +some other way to lay the spark by the heels and have the girl as well. +My advice is not to show yourself or you'll put him on his guard."</p> + +<p>Dorrimore, whose head was not particularly strong, had had a couple of +bottles with his dinner to give him spirit for the enterprise, and he +allowed himself to be persuaded. He and Rofflash betook themselves to +the coach which landed them at a tavern in St. James's Street, where +Dorrimore drank and drank until he fell under the table and was carried +out by a couple of waiters, put in a hackney coach and conveyed to his +chambers in the Temple.</p> + +<p>Rofflash left his patron at the tavern long before this period arrived. +He was on the search for Mistress Salisbury and knowing her haunts +pretty well, he ran her to earth at a house of questionable repute in +the neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Sally had had more to drink than the +bottle of Mountain port her soul had craved for and was inclined to be +boisterous, but her temper was apt to be uncertain. It was a toss up +whether she laughed, cried or flew into a passion. She was inclined to +the first if she thought of her triumph over Lavinia and to the last +when Lancelot Vane and her failure to seduce him from his allegiance +came into her mind.</p> + +<p>Sally often boasted she could win any man if she gave her mind to the +task, but Vane had escaped her toils. Perhaps it was that she had a +genuine passion for him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> and so had not used her powers of fascination. +The more she drank, the more she cursed herself for having allowed Vane +to slip through her fingers, and being in a reckless mood, she said as +much to Rofflash. Otherwise she would hardly have made a confidant of a +fellow who combined swash-buckling with highway robbery.</p> + +<p>"What!" jeered Captain Jeremy, "Sally Salisbury own herself beaten over +a man. I'd as lief believe my old commander the great Duke Marlborough +crying he couldn't thrash the mounseers. I'll swear you didn't let him +go without getting the promise of an assignation out of him."</p> + +<p>"A promise? Don't talk of promises. It's easier to get a promise out of +a man than his purse."</p> + +<p>"Lord, madam, if it's the purse of that vapouring young spark you're +after, you'll be wasting your labour. You'll find it as empty as yonder +bottle. I'll swear now that you set greater store by his heart."</p> + +<p>Rofflash glanced shrewdly at Sally's face. Her lips were working +convulsively. He knew he was right.</p> + +<p>"You're a cunning devil, captain. You've the wheedling tongue of Satan +himself and his black soul, too, I doubt not. You're all ears and eyes +when money's to be picked up. Take that for what you did for me +to-night."</p> + +<p>Sally drew five guineas from her pocket and flung them on the table. A +couple would have rolled on to the floor, but Rofflash grabbed them in +time. Sally burst into one of her hard, mirthless laughs.</p> + +<p>"Trust you for looking after coin. See here, you Judas. Vane promised to +meet me at Spring Gardens to-morrow night. When I see him I shall +believe him, not before. You must work it so that he comes."</p> + +<p>"Hang me, Sally, but that's a hard nut to crack."</p> + +<p>"Not too hard for your tiger's teeth. I'll double those five guineas if +you bring it off."</p> + +<p>Rofflash relished the proposition, but he pretended to find difficulties +and held out for higher pay. To Sally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> money was as water. She agreed to +make the ten into fifteen. Rofflash swearing that he'd do his best, took +his departure and left the lady, like Archibald Dorrimore, to drink +herself into insensibility.</p> + +<p>"The devil looks after his own," chuckled Rofflash as he swaggered down +the Strand. "It'll go hard if I don't squeeze fifty guineas out of that +idiot Dorrimore over to-morrow night's work! He'd give that to have the +pleasure of running the scribbler through the body. Lord, if I'd +breathed a word of <i>that</i> to Sally! No fool like an old fool, they say. +Bah! The foolishest thing in Christendom is a woman when she's in love."</p> + +<p>And Captain Jeremy Rofflash plodded on, well pleased with himself. He +took the road which would lead him to Moorfields and Grub Street.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h4>"WHAT DID I TELL THEE, POLLY?"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia went to her first rehearsal in a strange confusion of spirits, +but came through the ordeal successfully. She was letter perfect, and +she remembered all Spiller's instructions. Mr. Huddy was pleased to say +that he thought she would do.</p> + +<p>She left the theatre for her lodgings in Little Queen Street in a +flutter of excitement. Otway's "Orphan" might be dull and lachrymose, +the part of Serina might be insignificant, but to Lavinia the play was +the most wonderful thing. It meant a beginning. She had got the chance +she had longed for. She saw herself in imagination a leading lady.</p> + +<p>But when she returned to her lodgings a reaction set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> in. She was +depressed. Life had suddenly become drab and dull. She was thinking of +Lancelot Vane, but not angrily, as was the case the previous night when +she walked away her head high in the air after seeing Sally +Salisbury—of all women in the world!—in his arms. She was in a tumult +of passion, and when that subsided tears of indignation rushed to her +eyes. She made no excuses for her recreant lover, no allowances for +accidents and misadventures. She did not, indeed, think he had set out +to insult her, but the unhappy fact was patent that he knew the wanton +Sally, and that he had a tender regard for her. Lavinia's reading of the +thing was that in her anxiety she had arrived at the trysting place too +soon. Ten minutes later and Vane would have got rid of his old love and +taken on with his new one. Oh, it was humiliating to think of!</p> + +<p>Lavinia walked away in her rage. By the time she reached Little Queen +Street, the storm had passed. She had arrived at the conclusion that all +men were faithless, selfish, dishonourable. For the future she would +have naught to do with them.</p> + +<p>The excitement of the rehearsal, the sense of independence she felt when +all was got through with credit, lent her buoyancy, but it did not last. +The dream she had once had of playing to an audience and seeing only +Lancelot Vane in the first row of the pit applauding and eager to +congratulate her, was gone. She was done with him for ever. So she told +herself. And to strengthen this resolve she recalled his weaknesses, his +vacillation, his distrust in himself, his lapses into inebriety. Yet no +sooner had she gone over his sins than she felt pity and inclined to +forgiveness. But not forgiveness for his faithlessness. That was +unpardonable.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Egleton, her fellow lodger, had the night before gone to bed sober +and was inclined to be complaisant and to interest herself in Lavinia. +She was pleased to hear that Huddy had praised her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If he asks you to join his company, don't you refuse," said Mrs. +Egleton. "He's got a rough tongue when he's put out, but he knows his +business. Three months' experience will do wonders. I must come and see +you on <i>the</i> night. When is it to be?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia said she hadn't the least idea.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you'll soon know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Egleton was right. In the next issue of the <i>Daily Post</i> appeared +this advertisement:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"At the desire of several persons of quality for the benefit of Mr. +Huddy, at the New Theatre in the Haymarket. To-morrow being +Thursday, the 24th day of February, will be presented a tragedy +called 'The Orphan; or, the Unhappy Marriage,' written by the late +Mr. Otway, with a new prologue to be spoken by Mr. Roger, who plays +the part of Chamont. The part of Acasto by Mr. Huddy; Monimia, Mrs. +Haughton; the page, Miss Tollet; and the part of Serina by a +gentlewoman who never appear'd on any stage before. With singing in +Italian and English by Mrs. Fitzgerald. And the original trumpet +song of sound fame, as set to musick by Mr. Henry Purcel, to be +performed by Mr. Amesbury."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Lavinia read this over twice and thrilled with delight. She ran with the +paper to Mrs. Egleton.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me, child!" cried the actress. "So you're a gentlewoman, are +you?"</p> + +<p>"The paper says I am, so I suppose it's true," said Lavinia, casting +down her eyes demurely.</p> + +<p>"If you are, it'll be a wonder. Not many women players are, I may tell +you for your satisfaction. Who was your father?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I can't remember him."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're in the fashion there. Few of us are better off than you. +But what matters father or mother? You're in the world, and after all +that's as much as you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> need trouble about. As for your mother—but I +won't bother you about <i>her</i>. A mother's not much good to her daughter. +She mostly looks to make money out of her by a rich marriage, not that +she's over particular about the marriage so long as there's plenty of +coin."</p> + +<p>Lavinia did not contradict Mrs. Egleton's cynical views. From her own +experience she knew it was very often true.</p> + +<p>The 24th was a fortnight ahead—plenty of time for the play to be in +readiness. Huddy had no fear about the performance. What concerned him +more nearly was his "benefit" money. He busied himself in canvassing his +patrons and the disposal of tickets.</p> + +<p>The night came. Lavinia was wrought to a high pitch of excitement, but +her excitement was pleasurable. The scenery, albeit it would be scoffed +at nowadays, was to her magnificent. The costumes were gorgeous. It was +nothing that they smelt musty from having laid long in the theatre +wardrobe. The incongruity of many of the garments gave her no pang of +uneasiness. "The Orphan" was of no particular period. Dresses which had +done duty in Shakespearean tragedies, in classical plays of the Cato +type, in the comedies of the Restoration dramatists, were equally +admissible. The circumscribed space afforded the players by the +intrusion on the stage of the seats for the "quality" did not embarrass +her. The combined odours of oranges and candle snuff had their charm.</p> + +<p>The house was full, but in the dim and smoky candlelight the faces of +the audience were little better than rows of shadowy masks. The pit +occupied the entire floor of the house right up to the orchestra. Here +the critics were to be found. The pit could make or mar the destiny of +plays, and the reputation of players. Dozens of regular playgoers knew +the traditions of the theatre better than many actors and actresses. +They were sticklers for the preservation of the stage "business" to +which they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> had been accustomed. They knew certain lines of their +favourite plays by heart, and how those lines ought to be delivered.</p> + +<p>The curtain rose. Acasto, Monimia, Chamont mouthed their various parts, +and did exactly what was expected from them. Curiosity was excited only +when Serina, the daughter of Acasto, in love with Chamont, made her +appearance. Lavinia's winsome face, her eyes half tender, half alluring, +her pretty mouth with not an atom of ill nature in its curves, her +sympathetic voice, at once attracted the audience. It was a pity, +everyone felt, she had so little to say and do. Her few lines expressed +but one sentiment—her love for Chamont.</p> + +<p>Lavinia played the part as if she felt it, which was indeed the fact, +for she was thinking of Lancelot Vane all the time. When she came to her +final words in the fifth act—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"If any of my family have done thee injury,</div> +<div>I'll be revenged and love thee better for it"</div> +</div></div> + +<p>the house thundered its applause, so naturally and with such genuine +pathos were they delivered.</p> + +<p>The curtain fell. The gallants who had seats on the stage crowded round +the "young gentlewoman" and showered compliments. A few privileged +people from the front of the house who found their way behind were +equally enthusiastic. Even Mrs. Haughton—the Monimia of the +play—deigned to smile approvingly.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell thee, Polly?" she heard a pleasant if somewhat husky +voice whisper in her ear.</p> + +<p>She knew the tones and turned quickly. John Gay's kindly eyes were +beaming upon her. He had come with Jemmy Spiller, and with a stout man +from whose broad red face a look of drollery was rarely absent. This was +Hippisley, a comedian with a natural humour which was wont to set an +audience in a roar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lavinia blushed with pleasure and cast a grateful look at Spiller, whose +hints had proved so valuable.</p> + +<p>"Was I not right, Spiller?" went on Gay. "You've read my opera, what +there is of it that's finished. Won't Polly Peachum fit her like a +glove?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, if she can sing as prettily as she acted to-night," said Spiller, +with a quizzical glance at the girl.</p> + +<p>"Sing? My lad, she has the voice of a nightingale. Pepusch agrees with +me. I'll swear there's no singing woman outside the King's Theatre—or +inside, for the matter of that—who can hold a candle by the side of +her. Have you forgotten the pretty baggage who so charmed us at the +Maiden Head?"</p> + +<p>"Not I, faith. I was but jesting. And so you've fixed upon her. But I +hear that Mr. Rich has set his face against so many songs. He won't take +your Polly merely because she can sing."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rich is a fool—in some things," rejoined Gay hastily. "He can +dance, I grant you, and posture as no other man can, and he thinks he +can act! I heard him once at a party of friends. My good Spiller, if his +vanity ever prompted him to air his voice on the stage, the people would +think he was mocking them, and one half would laugh and the other half +boo and hiss."</p> + +<p>"I know—I know. Still, he holds command, and he likes his own way, no +man better."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, but whatever a man wills he has to give up when a woman says +yea or nay. My good duchess means to have a word with him over the +songs."</p> + +<p>"If that's so John Rich had better capitulate at once. He's as good as +beaten."</p> + +<p>Lavinia could only catch a word of this talk here and there. She was +being pestered by half a dozen sparkish admirers who were somewhat taken +aback when they discovered that the "gentlewoman who had never appear'd +on any stage before" could more than hold her own in repartee and give +the fops of fashion as good as or better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> than they gave. How could they +tell that the sprightly young budding actress had graduated in the wit +and slang of the streets?</p> + +<p>But she was pestered and peeved all the same, for she dearly wanted to +talk to Gay and Spiller. At last the modish gadflies got tired of having +their smart talk turned against them, and one by one fell off, +especially as Huddy, whose blunt speech was not much to their taste, +came up and intruded without apology into their vapid banter.</p> + +<p>"The gal's done well, Spiller," said Huddy, "and I'm obleeged to ye. Now +I want to get on the road and waste no time about it. I ought to be at +Woolwich afore a fortnight's over, then Dartford, Gravesend, Rochester, +Maidstone, and so away on to Dover. What d'ye say, miss? I can give ye a +good engagement—no fixed salary in course—sharing out, that's the rule +with travelling companies—Mr. Spiller knows what I'm a'telling you is +right."</p> + +<p>Lavinia hardly knew what to say to this, and she turned to Spiller for +advice. Huddy saw the look of doubt on her face, and went on with his +argument.</p> + +<p>"It's this way, miss. I don't say as you didn't play to-night to my +satisfaction—thanks to my rehearsing of you—but you've got a lot to +learn, and, by God, you won't learn it better anywhere in the world than +with me. Ask Mr. Spiller—ask Mr. Hippisley. They know what's what, and +they'll tell you the same."</p> + +<p>Spiller nodded.</p> + +<p>"You've made a good beginning, but the more practice you have the +better. Isn't that so, Mr. Gay? Mr. Gay has great hopes of you, my dear +and—but you'd better hear what he has to say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should dearly love to," murmured Lavinia.</p> + +<p>They were now in the green room. Mrs. Fitzgerald was on the stage +singing "in English and French," and her shrill tones penetrated the +thin walls greatly to Gay's discomfort. The lady's voice was not +particularly sweet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let us walk apart, Polly," said he. "We shan't hear that noise so +keenly."</p> + +<p>He took her arm and placed it beneath his.</p> + +<p>"Spiller's right, my dear. I have great hopes of you, but your chance +won't come for months. The time won't be lost if you work hard at +everything Huddy puts in your way. You'll have plenty of variety, but +you won't earn much money. The sharing out system puts the lion's +portion into the manager's pocket. But that can't be helped. Still, if +you want money—the duchess——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Gay," broke in Lavinia anxiously, "I've been sorely worried +thinking of her grace. Have you told her?—I mean about me running away +from school and—and——"</p> + +<p>Gay laughed and playfully pinched her cheek.</p> + +<p>"The love story, eh? Yes, I told the duchess, and she was vastly +entertained. She's a woman of infinite spirit and she likes other women +to have spirit too. She's not without romance—and I wouldn't give a +thank-you for her if she were. If you'd run off out of restlessness or a +mere whim or fit of temper, I doubt if she'd troubled about you further; +but love—that was another thing altogether. Oh, and your courage in +escaping from that dissolute rascal—that captured her. My dear, +Queensberry's Duchess is your friend. She's as desirous as I am that you +should be Polly Peachum in my 'Beggar's Opera,' and when I tell her +about to-night she'll be overjoyed. You need not fear about the future +save that it depends upon yourself. But Polly, what of the young +playwright, Lancelot Vane?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear anything about him!"</p> + +<p>"What! Have you and he tiffed? Well, 'tis a way that true love works. +But let me tell you I've handed his play to Mr. Cibber, though much I +doubt its good fortune. Honestly, my child, though some of the lines are +good, others are sad stuff."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't wish Mr. Vane any ill will, but it is no affair of mine whether +his play be good or bad."</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me! But you told me he wanted to write in a part for you."</p> + +<p>"If he does I won't play it. Mr. Vane is nothing to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so <i>that</i> love's flown away, has it? Was there anybody in this +world or any other so full of vagaries and vapours as Master Cupid?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia was in a tumult of doubt and contrary inclinations. She hated to +discuss Lancelot Vane! She wanted to talk about him! She was suffering +from the most puzzling of emotions—the mingled pain and pleasure of +self-torture.</p> + +<p>Gay neither gratified nor disappointed her. He simply remarked that it +was well she now had nothing to distract her mind and that she would be +able to devote herself entirely to her new life, and after counselling +her not to argue about terms with Huddy, he led her back to the manager, +and it was settled that she should join his travelling company.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was overwrought, and that night slept but little. It was hard to +say whether the thoughts of her future on the stage, her dreams of +distinction with Gay's opera, or her wounded love and pride occupied the +foremost place in her mind. She resolved over and over again that she +would forget Lancelot Vane. She meant to steel herself against every +kind of tender recollection. She was certain she hated him and dropped +off to sleep thinking of the one kiss they had exchanged.</p> + +<p>The next morning she was fairly tranquil. She had not, it is true, +dismissed Vane entirely from her thoughts, but she had arrived at the +conclusion that as it was all over between them it really was of no +consequence whether he had jilted her for Sally Salisbury. That he +should bestow even a look on so common a creature was a proof of his +vulgar tastes. Oh, he was quite welcome to Sally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> if his fancy roamed in +so low a direction. She felt she was able to regard the whole business +with perfect equanimity.</p> + +<p>Her landlady that day bought a copy of the <i>Daily Post</i> and she sent it +upstairs to Lavinia. Newspaper notices of theatrical performances were +rarities in those days. Lavinia did not expect to see any reference to +Mr. Huddy's benefit, and her expectations were realised. What she <i>did</i> +see sent the blood rushing to her face and her hands fumbled so that she +could hardly hold the paper. Then she went deadly pale, she tore the +paper in half and—a rare thing for Lavinia to do—she burst into tears.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h4>"IF WE FIGHT.... WHAT SAY YOU TO LAVINIA FENTON?"</h4> + +<p>The big room of the "Angel and Sun" hard by Cripples Gate was the scene +of loud talk, louder laughter and the clank of pewter mugs on the solid +oaken table. The fat landlord, divested of his wig, which he only wore +on high days and holidays, was rubbing his shiny pate with satisfaction. +The Grub Street writers were his best customers, and when they had money +in their pockets they were uneasy until it was gone.</p> + +<p>The room was low pitched; its big chimney beams projected so much that +it behoved a tall man to be careful of his movements; it was full of +dark shadows thrown by the two candles in iron sconces on the walls; a +high settle was on either side of the fire in front of which stood the +bow-legged host, his eyes beaming on the rapidly emptying bottles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>A slight sound, a movement, caused the landlord to glance towards the +door. A stranger had entered. He was not of the Grub Street fraternity. +He had too much swagger. His clothes were too fine, despite their +tawdriness, his sword hilt too much in evidence. What could be seen of +his dark face, the upper half of which his slouched hat concealed, was +rather that of a fighter than of a writer. The landlord summed up the +signs of a swashbuckler and approached him deferentially.</p> + +<p>"Good evenin', sir. What's your pleasure?"</p> + +<p>The stranger cast a rapid glance over the revellers sitting round the +long, narrow table before he replied.</p> + +<p>"Half a pint of gin, landlord," said he, in the deep, husky voice of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash, and he strode towards the chimney corner of one +of the settles, whence he could see the noisy party of drinkers and not +be seen himself very well.</p> + +<p>The landlord brought the gin in a pewter pot and set it down on a ledge +fixed to the chimney jamb.</p> + +<p>"See here, landlord," growled Rofflash, "d'ye know Mr. Jarvis?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, sir; 'tis he yonder with the lantern-jawed phizog."</p> + +<p>"Aye. Watch your chance when he's not talking to the rest and bid him +look where I'm sitting. There's a shilling ready for you if you don't +blunder."</p> + +<p>The landlord nodded and waddled towards the man he had pointed out.</p> + +<p>Jeremy Rofflash, it may be remarked, was a born spy and informer. His +blood was tainted with treachery. Ten years before he had been employed +by the Whig Government of George of Hanover to ferret out +evidence—which not infrequently meant manufacturing it—against the +Jacobites. Posing as a Jacobite, Rofflash wormed himself into the +secrets of the conspirators, and he figured as an important witness +against the rebel lords Derwentwater, Nithsdale, Carnwath and Wintoun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was nothing for him to serve two masters and to play false to both, +according as it best suited his own pocket. Sally Salisbury and +Archibald Dorrimore were working in two different directions, and the +ingenious Jeremy accommodated both. His scheming in Sally's interest had +turned out to his and to her satisfaction, but not so that on behalf of +Dorrimore. The captain had not reckoned upon Lavinia taking flight +before he and his employer arrived on the scene.</p> + +<p>The plot of which she was the objective was common enough in those days +of free and easy lovemaking. Merely an abduction. Rofflash had an +intimate knowledge of Whitefriars, not then, perhaps, so lawless a place +as in the times of the Stuarts, but sufficiently lawless for his +purpose. Its ancient privileges which made it a sanctuary for all that +was vile and criminal had not been entirely swept away. Rofflash knew of +more than one infamous den to which Lavinia could be conveyed, and +nobody be the wiser.</p> + +<p>The abduction plot had failed—for the present—and Rofflash, to pacify +Dorrimore, went on another tack. In this he was personally interested. +He saw his way to make use of Dorrimore to punish Vane for the +humiliation Vane had cast upon him when they encountered each other on +London Bridge. This humiliation was a double one. Vane had not merely +knocked him down, but had rescued Lavinia under his very nose.</p> + +<p>The insult could only be washed out in blood, and the captain had been +nursing his wrath ever since. But he was as great a coward as he was a +braggart, and a fair fight was not to his taste. He was more at home in +a stealthy approach under the cover of night, and a swift plunge of his +sword before the enemy could turn and defend himself.</p> + +<p>With Dorrimore it was different. To do him justice, fop as he was, he +did not want for courage, and, moreover, he was a good swordsman. So +when Rofflash made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> out that he could bring Vane to Spring Gardens, +where Dorrimore could easily find an excuse for provoking his rival to a +duel, the Templar eagerly approved the idea.</p> + +<p>It was to carry out this plan practically that Rofflash, after quitting +his patron in St. James's Park, made his way to Moorfields. Though he +knew that Sally had extracted a promise from Vane to meet her in Spring +Gardens, he was by no means certain that Vane would keep his word. But +Rofflash was never without resources, and he thought he could devise a +plan to bring the meeting about. His scheme proved easier to execute +than he expected. Vane unconsciously played into his hands.</p> + +<p>After his bitter disappointment through not meeting Lavinia at +Rosamond's Pond, Vane walked back to his Grub Street lodgings plunged in +fits of melancholy, alternated with moralisings on the faithlessness of +women. He did not believe Lavinia had kept the appointment. As for Sally +Salisbury, well, it was unfortunate that he should run across her at a +wrong moment, but he never imagined that the meeting with her was one of +design and not of accident.</p> + +<p>Vane had the poetic temperament. He was human and emotional and—he was +weak. Had he lived two centuries later he might have fancied, and may be +with truth, that he suffered from neurasthenia. In the full-blooded days +of the early Georges the complaint was "vapours," otherwise liver, but +no one troubled about nerves. The ghastly heads of Jacobite rebels stuck +on Temple Bar were looked upon with indifference by the passers-by. The +crowds which thronged to Tyburn to witness the half hangings and the +hideous disembowelling which followed, while the poor wretches, found +guilty of treason, were yet alive, had pretty much the sensation with +which a gathering nowadays sees a dangerous acrobatic performance.</p> + +<p>Vane had none of this brutish callousness. He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> more susceptible to +sex influences. Despite his worship of Lavinia, whom he elevated into a +sort of divinity, and who satisfied the more refined part of his nature +and his love of romance, he was not insensible to the animal charms of +Sally Salisbury. The cunning jade was familiar with all the arts of her +profession. She knew how to kiss, and the kiss she bestowed upon him in +the park haunted him just as did the kiss he had received whether he +would or not on the night when she sheltered him in her house.</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that the despondent young man was torn between +varying emotions, and by the time he was within hail of Grub Street he +was without will of his own and at the mercy of any who chose to +exercise influence over him.</p> + +<p>Chance led him to encounter a party of boon companions whose company he +had vowed to relinquish. One of these was in funds, having abandoned +political pamphleteering for the writing of biographies of notorious +personages, both men and women—the latter preferably—in which truth +and fiction were audaciously blended, and the whole dashed with +scandalous anecdotes which found for such stuff a ready sale.</p> + +<p>Jarvis and his friends having had their fill of liquor at one tavern, +were proceeding to another when they met Lancelot Vane, and they bore +him away without much protest. It was by no means the first time that +Vane had drowned his sorrows in drink.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Rofflash was on the prowl. He was not unacquainted with some +of the Grub Street scribblers. One man he had employed three or four +years before, when Jacobitism was rampant, in running to earth the +writers of seditious pamphlets and broad sheets. The man was Tom Jarvis. +Rofflash knew Tom's favourite haunts, and after looking in at various +taverns, lighted upon him at the "Angel and Sun." He also lighted upon +Vane. Vane he could see was well on the way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> towards forgetfulness, but +Captain Jeremy wasn't one to run any risks, so he held aloof from the +party, and waited while the landlord went about his errand.</p> + +<p>Presently Jarvis looked in the direction of the fireplace, and Rofflash +beckoned him and laid his fingers on his lip in token of silence. Jarvis +quietly slipped away and joined Rofflash.</p> + +<p>"Devil take it, my gallant captain!" growled Jarvis, "but you look in +fine feather. Hang me if you haven't tumbled on your feet, and that's +more than Tom Jarvis can say. Since the Jacks have swallowed King George +and his Hanoverian progeny things have been precious dull for the likes +o' me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, though it mayn't be for long. Meanwhile, I can put you in the way +of a guinea. Are you friendly with that young fool, Lancelot Vane?"</p> + +<p>"Friendly? Why, to be sure. He's always good for a bottle if he chance +to have the wherewithal about him. And he's the best company in the +world when that comes about. A couple o' glasses knocks him over, and +you can finish the rest of the bottle at your ease."</p> + +<p>"Gad! He's one of your feather-brained, lily-livered fellows, is he? So +much the better for my purpose. Look you here, Tom; bring Vane to-morrow +evening to Spring Gardens, and there's a guinea ready for you."</p> + +<p>Jarvis looked down his long nose and frowned.</p> + +<p>"Not so easy as you think, captain. I know Vane. To-morrow he'll be +chock full of repentance. He'll be calling himself all the fools he can +lay his tongue to. How am I to get him to Spring Gardens in that mood?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis as easy as lying, Tom. When a man's down as Peter Grievous, he's +ready to get up if he have but a couple of hairs of the dog that bit +him."</p> + +<p>"I grant you that, bully captain. But Vane's pocket's as empty as mine. +Where's the coin to come from?"</p> + +<p>"You're a damned liar and an ingrained rogue by nature, Tom Jarvis, but +I'll have to trust you for once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> Here's half a guinea. It should more +than pay for the wine and the wherry to Spring Gardens. Keep faith with +me, you rascal, or I'll half wring your head from your shoulders and +give you a free taste of what's bound to come to you some day—the rope +at Tyburn."</p> + +<p>Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to +carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away.</p> + +<p>How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much +consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner. +Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after +a drinking bout was verified to the letter.</p> + +<p>The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The +wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens, +though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their +passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers +more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined +were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats. +Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as +they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked +by plenty of liveliness.</p> + +<p>Well did Spring Gardens—afterwards known as Vauxhall, or Fauxhall, +years later—deserve the patronage bestowed upon them. Delightful +groves, cosy little arbours, lawns like velvet, rippling fountains were +among its attractions, music albeit it was confined to the limited +instruments of the day—singing came about afterwards—aided the +enchantment.</p> + +<p>A dose of hot brandy and water before starting had renewed Vane's +drooping spirits and had dissipated his headache and nausea. A glass of +punch prescribed by Jarvis when inside the Gardens sent him into a mood +of recklessness which made him ready for any adventure amorous or +otherwise. He looked upon Lavinia as lost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> to him. He would like to kill +his remembrance of her. What better way than by thoughts of some other +woman? His brain had become so bemused by his potations of the previous +night that he had at first only vague recollections of Sally Salisbury +and how he had engaged to meet her. But now that he was in the Gardens +association of ideas brought her handsome, enticing face to his mind. +She would do as well as another to entertain him for the moment, and his +eyes roved restlessly towards every woman he passed.</p> + +<p>The orchestra was playing a dance tune, and Vane eagerly scanned the +dancers, but saw no woman resembling Sally Salisbury. Meanwhile Jarvis +had left him with a parting drink, which by no means helped to clear his +muddled brain. Then suddenly Sally stood before him, unmasked and +looking more fascinating than ever.</p> + +<p>"You wicked man," said she with reproachful eyes, the dark silky lashes +drooping momentarily on her painted cheeks. "I've been searching for you +everywhere. But my heart told me you would come, and my heart rarely +deceives me."</p> + +<p>Sally spoke in a tone of sincerity, and maybe for once she was sincere. +Vane did not trouble one way or the other. He was in that condition of +nervous excitement to be strongly affected by her sensuous beauty. He +was stammering something in reply when a man in a puce satin coat and a +flowered brocaded waistcoat thrust himself rudely between them.</p> + +<p>"I fear, sir, you don't know all the transcendent virtues of this +<i>lady</i>. Permit me to enlighten you."</p> + +<p>He spoke in an insolent tone, and Sally turned upon him in fury and bade +him begone.</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business, Mr. Dorrimore, and don't thrust your nose into +what doesn't concern you," she cried, her eyes blazing with wrath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've no quarrel with you, madam. I only wish to warn your poor +dupe——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>He wasn't able to finish the sentence. Vane had struck him a violent +blow in the face.</p> + +<p>Vane's sudden attack fairly took Dorrimore by surprise. He stared +blankly at Vane, and then apparently seized by some ludicrous idea, he +burst into a sarcastic laugh.</p> + +<p>"Faith, sir—you must excuse me—you really must. Ha—ha—ha! The idea +of your championing this wanton jade! It's too good a joke—'pon honour, +it is—but since you will have it so—why——"</p> + +<p>His hand went to his side, and the next moment his sword flashed in the +crimson light of the coloured lamps. Just then Jarvis and another man +interposed, and the latter caught Dorrimore's sword arm.</p> + +<p>"Forbear, gentlemen!" cried Jarvis. "If you must fight, don't let it be +here. In public 'twould be little better than a vulgar brawl."</p> + +<p>"Let me alone," shouted Dorrimore. "He struck me and in the devil's name +he shall answer it."</p> + +<p>"Whenever you please. I did but defend the lady whom this coward +insulted," said Vane, pale, and speaking in a voice low and vibrating +with passion.</p> + +<p>He felt a pressure on his arm and heard in soft tones:</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but you mustn't risk your life for me. Come away."</p> + +<p>"What, and leave the fellow's challenge unanswered. Never! Sir, I am at +your command. When and where you please."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Vane—Sally's not worth it," whispered Jarvis. "Don't +you know she's any man's money?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Vane wavered as though Jarvis had convinced him. In the +meantime Dorrimore had sheathed his sword and stepping close to Vane in +front of Sally Salisbury, he said, dropping his voice so that Sally +should not hear:</p> + +<p>"Your friend's right. If we fight it should be over somebody better than +a common trull. What say you to Lavinia Fenton?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>Vane staggered as though Dorrimore had struck him.</p> + +<p>"Lavinia Fenton?" he faltered. "What—what do you know—about her? What +is she to you?"</p> + +<p>"Simply this—she's mine, and I'll have the blood of any man who +attempts to rob me of her. You tried once, and this follows."</p> + +<p>Dorrimore tapped the hilt of his sword.</p> + +<p>"I never saw you before, sir, but I take you at your word. I can see now +you've forced this quarrel on me, and for aught I know Mistress +Salisbury may be in the plot. But that doesn't matter. If Miss Fenton is +the cause, I shall fight with a better heart. Jarvis—please arrange +this affair for me. You've a friend at hand, sir, I presume."</p> + +<p>Dorrimore dropped his insolent, foppish air. He recognised that Vane, +poverty stricken scribbler though he might be, was a gentleman. He bowed +and turned towards the man who, with Jarvis, had interposed in the early +stages of the altercation. This man was Rofflash. He had dragged Sally +Salisbury some three or four yards away probably to prevent her +interfering and persuading Vane not to fight. Whatever their talk might +have been about, just as Dorrimore turned Vane saw Sally tear herself +from Captain Jeremy's grasp and hurry away, and he became more than ever +persuaded that she had betrayed him. What did it matter? One woman or +another—they were all the same.</p> + +<p>He walked apart while Jarvis and Rofflash arranged the preliminaries. +His brain was numbed. He did not care whether he lived or died. Five +minutes later Vane was joined by Jarvis.</p> + +<p>"We've settled the business very comfortably," said Jarvis. "Seven +o'clock at Battersea Fields. It's now nearly midnight. We'll get a rest +at the nearest tavern; have a few hours sleep, and you'll wake as fresh +as a lark."</p> + +<p>Vane made no reply, and Jarvis sliding his arm within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> that of his +companion, led him out of the gardens. They took the direction of +Wandsworth, keeping by the river bank, and Jarvis made a halt at a +tumbledown rookery of a waterside tavern—the "Feathers." Vane was so +overwhelmed by the prospect of a possible tragedy that he scarcely +noticed the dirt, the squalidness, the hot and fœtid air and the +evil-looking fellows who stared at them when he and Jarvis entered.</p> + +<p>On the strength of the order of a bottle of wine the landlord gave them +the use of his own room, and Vane threw himself on a hard settee, but +not to sleep. He was worn and haggard when it was time to rise, and +Jarvis called for brandy. It was vile stuff, and Vane swallowed scarcely +a mouthful.</p> + +<p>The bill paid, they got into a boat moored off the bank opposite the +tavern.</p> + +<p>It was only just daylight. A slight mist hung upon the river, and the +marshy land on the south side and the scattered houses leading to +Chelsea on the north side looked dreary enough. The only sound was the +plash of the waterman's sculls and the grinding of the rowlocks. At last +they came upon Battersea Fields.</p> + +<p>"The pollard oaks, waterman," said Jarvis. "Do you know 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Right well, your honour. You're not the first gentlemen I've took +there. More'n than have come back, I'll swear."</p> + +<p>The fellow's words weren't encouraging, but Vane did not seem affected +by them. He felt strangely calm. Before he started his head was hot; now +it was as cold as ice. Jarvis asked him how he was.</p> + +<p>"Feel my pulse and tell me," said he.</p> + +<p>"Steady as a rock, but devilish cold. A little thrust and parry'll warm +you. Here we are, and there's your man and his second waiting."</p> + +<p>The boat scraped the rushes and the waterman held it while the two men +scrambled on to the bank.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ground was fairly well chosen for the purpose. It was a tolerably +firm piece of turf about a hundred yards long by some twenty broad and +almost as smooth as a bowling green. It was the only solid piece of +earth for some distance, all around being at a lower level and boggy.</p> + +<p>Not forgetful of the usual courtesies, the combatants bowed and took off +their coats and vests. It was then that Vane caught sight of Rofflash.</p> + +<p>"You're the fellow whom I knocked down on London Bridge on a certain +night some little time ago," said he.</p> + +<p>"The very same," rejoined Rofflash with a grin which made his ugly face +still uglier. "You took me unawares. If you've the mind to try +conclusions a second time, fair and square and no surprises, by God, +sir, I'll be pleased to oblige you when you've despatched Mr. +Dorrimore."</p> + +<p>The bully's braggart manner and sneering voice made no impression on +Vane. The suspicion that he was the victim of a plot was strengthened by +the presence of Rofflash and his words. For ought he could tell Jarvis +might be in the conspiracy too. But there was no way out of the trap, +and turning on his heel, he walked to his ground.</p> + +<p>The duel began. The combatants were about equal in youth, height and +build; in skill they were unfairly matched. Vane was comparatively a +novice in the use of the "white arm." Dorrimore, on the other hand, was +a practised swordsman, though he was not so accomplished as he fancied +he was.</p> + +<p>The two, after the preliminary salute, advanced to the attack. Dorrimore +handled his weapon with a slightly contemptuous air, as if he did not +think it worth while to take much trouble over so inferior an opponent.</p> + +<p>To a certain extent he was right. Vane, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> was shrewd enough to +see that this carelessness was but assumed, and he did not take +advantage of one or two opportunities of thrusting given him by +Dorrimore, evidently with the intention of leading him into a trap.</p> + +<p>So they went on cautiously, their blades rasping against each other, and +neither man gaining any advantage, although once or twice Vane found his +antagonist's weapon perilously near his body. Then all at once Dorrimore +changed his methods. He began fencing in earnest, and so rapid was the +play of his sword that the eye could scarcely follow it. Suddenly he +muttered an oath as a red stain appeared on his arm. Vane had been lucky +enough to scratch him, probably more by accident than dexterity.</p> + +<p>Dorrimore roused himself and his fencing became more vigorous. Vane was +being pressed very closely, and Dorrimore's thrusts were becoming more +and more difficult to parry. Moreover, Vane's nerves were unsteady and +his movements were flustered. The gleaming steel danced, he grew +confused, faltered, and then came a cold biting sensation in his chest, +he fell and knew no more.</p> + +<p>"An ugly thrust, Mr. Dorrimore," growled Rofflash five minutes +afterwards. "What's to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Is he dead?" asked Dorrimore anxiously. "I'd no intention of going as +far as that, but it was the fool's own fault. He was rushing upon me +when my point touched him. I couldn't withdraw it in time."</p> + +<p>Rofflash, while with Marlborough's army, had acquired some rough +knowledge of surgery. His hands had gone over Vane's chest in the region +of the heart. The wound was on the right side.</p> + +<p>"There's life left," said the captain, "but he won't last long without a +surgeon. The blade's touched the lungs, I'll swear. Look ye here, sir. +If the man dies it'll be awkward for us all round. The fight was fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +enough, but the devil only knows what a dozen fools in a jury box may +think. Besides, there's Sally—she'll have something to say, I'll +swear."</p> + +<p>"Sally? What the deuce has she to do with us?"</p> + +<p>"More than you think, Mr. Dorrimore. She's as like as not to make out +that the quarrel was forced upon the fellow to get him out of the way. +You see, she's set her heart on him."</p> + +<p>"Sally Salisbury's heart? What, has the saucy jade got one?" demanded +Dorrimore derisively.</p> + +<p>"She thinks so, and with Sally that's as good as having one. You might +find it prudent to take refuge in France for a while till the affair +blows over. It would be bad enough to kill the man right out, but a +thousand times worse to leave him to bleed to death. I'm not so sure +what Jarvis might say to save his skin. You see, he was paid to bring +his man to Spring Gardens, so that you might affront him and get him to +fight you," added Rofflash dropping his voice significantly.</p> + +<p>"Devil take it! Where's a surgeon to be got?" returned Dorrimore in +alarm.</p> + +<p>"Leave it to me, sir. I can take him to a doctor who'll attend him and +who'll hold his tongue, which is more to the purpose. It'll mean a few +guineas, but 'twill be money well spent."</p> + +<p>"See to it, then, Rofflash. Where's the man to be found?"</p> + +<p>"His house is on London Bridge. The tide's running down fairly, and the +waterman ought to get us to the bridge in half an hour."</p> + +<p>Dorrimore assented gloomily. He was thinking that the gratification of +his spite would cost him a pretty penny. Not only would the doctor, +Rofflash and Jarvis have to be paid for their silence, but the waterman +also.</p> + +<p>Vane's wound was roughly bandaged, and he was taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> to the boat still +unconscious. The journey by water was made, and he was landed safely at +the foot of London Bridge and consigned to the care of Dr. Mountchance, +whose scruples at taking charge of a wounded man who might probably die +in his house were easily overcome.</p> + +<p>A few days later the following paragraph appeared in the <i>Daily Post</i>:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We learn that an affair of honour has taken place between A——d +D——e, Esqr., of the Temple, and Mr. L——t V——e, a young +gentleman lately come from Cambridge University, in which the said +young gentleman made the acquaintance of the Templar's sword, +causing him temporary inconvenience. The cause of the difference +was the fair S——y S——y, well known to many men of fashion."</p></blockquote> + +<p>It was this paragraph which sent Lavinia into a paroxysm of emotion and +made her tear the newspaper in twain.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h4>"MOLL'S SINGIN' BROUGHT HER LUCK AND MAY BE YOURS WILL TOO"</h4> + +<p>The months went over. Huddy's "travelling" theatrical troupe had been +paying a round of visits to various towns in the home counties, +performing in innyards, barns, any place suitable for the purpose and +where no objections<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> were raised by the justices. Actors and actresses +were "rogues and vagabonds" when it suited prim puritans to call them +so, and more than once Huddy and his company had to take a hurried +departure from some town where play-acting was looked upon as ungodly +and a device of Satan to ensnare the unsuspecting.</p> + +<p>All this was in the day's work. Lavinia thought nothing of it. She had +been in her youthful days harried from pillar to post and knew what it +meant. The important thing to her was that she was getting a vast amount +of stage experience, and as she was a quick "study" she had no +difficulty in taking on a new role at a day's notice.</p> + +<p>Lavinia remained with Huddy's until she had all the devices of the stage +at her finger's ends. In a way theatrical training was easier then than +now. Acting was largely a question of tradition. What Betterton, Wilks, +Barton Booth, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Oldfield did others had +to do. Audiences expected certain characters to be represented in a +certain way and were slow to accept "new readings." Comedy, however, had +more latitude than tragedy, and as comedy was Lavinia's line her winsome +face and pleasing smile and her melodious voice were always welcome, and +when she had a "singing" part she brought down the house.</p> + +<p>Of course the life was hard—especially when the share of the receipts +which fell to the minor members was small—but it was full of variety +and sometimes of excitement. If the work did not entirely drive away the +remembrance of Lancelot Vane it enabled her to look upon the romance of +her early maidenhood with equanimity. Her love affair had become a +regret tinged with a pleasureable sadness.</p> + +<p>She was beginning to be known in the profession. Now and again she wrote +to her old friend Gay and he replied with encouraging letters. His opera +was finished, he told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> her, Colley Cibber had refused to have anything +to do with it and it was now in the hands of John Rich.</p> + +<p>"I can see thee, my dear, in Polly Peachum. I've had you in mind in the +songs. You're doing well, I hear, but I'd have you do better. The +duchess has forgiven you. She is on your side against Rich, who does not +care a farthing for the music. He would alter his mind could he but hear +you. Huddy must let you go. The Duke's Theatre is waiting for you."</p> + +<p>In all Gay's letters there was not a word about Lancelot Vane. Lavinia +would like to have known the fate of his play and the next instant was +angry with herself for still feeling an interest in her faithless swain.</p> + +<p>"Let him waste himself on Sally Salisbury if he likes," she cried +scornfully. "He's nothing to me."</p> + +<p>Gay's assertion that Rich's theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields waited for +her was soon verified. One of Rich's staff waited upon her when Huddy's +company was playing at Woolwich, and she went off with him in high +spirits and amid much growling from Huddy. Rich was pleased to express +his approval of her appearance.</p> + +<p>"I'll put on a play for you and that'll tell me if you knows your +business," grunted the ungrammatical Rich.</p> + +<p>The play was a poor thing—"The Wits," one of D'Avenant's comedies. The +best part about it to Lavinia's fancy was the advertisement in the +<i>Daily Post</i> where she read "Ginnet by Miss Fenton." Ginnet was but a +stage waiting maid and Lavinia had little to do and less to say. "The +Wits" ran but one night, quite as long as it was worth.</p> + +<p>"You'll do pretty well," said Rich, "but I can't say more'n that. My +theatre shuts for the next three months. When the season starts I'll +find you summat else."</p> + +<p>"Three months!" exclaimed Lavinia ruefully. "And what am I to do all +that time, Mr. Rich?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's your business, miss. If I was you I'd try one of the summer +theatres. There's the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. May be you might +get a part. But mind this, you're to come back here in October. I'll put +you into something as'll soot you."</p> + +<p>What could Lavinia say to this? It was at once sweet and bitter. She had +made good her footing at Rich's theatre and could she only tide over the +summer months she would be on the stepping stones of success. But +meanwhile? She took Rich's advice and went to the Little Theatre. She +found she had not the ghost of a chance of an engagement. Drury Lane and +the Duke's Theatres were closed (Covent Garden Theatre was not then +built), and actors and actresses of established reputation were +clamorous for something to do. Lavinia retired discomfited.</p> + +<p>She had to go back to Huddy's, to the mumming booth and the innyard. +There was no help for it. The summer passed, Rich opened the Lincoln's +Inn Fields playhouse and sent for Lavinia. He gave her quite an +important part and Lavinia was elated, albeit the play was one of +Wycherley's most repulsive productions, "The Country Wife." But all +through the winter season this part was her only opportunity for +distinction. John Rich, like most actor managers, had but an eye for +himself as the central figure and in his own special province—dancing +and posturing. His "Harlequin" entertainment "The Rape of Proserpine" +proved to be one of his biggest successes and ran uninterruptedly for +three months.</p> + +<p>Lavinia's line in the piece was simply to "walk on" among the "lasses" +but she had the gratification of seeing her name announced in the +advertisements—a sufficient proof that she was rising in Rich's +estimation. She had at last a chance of showing what she could do. Her +old acquaintance, Mrs. Egleton, took her benefit along with Hippisley, +one of the best low comedians of the day, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> selected Farquhar's "The +Beaux' Stratagem"—partly so she said, for Lavinia's sake.</p> + +<p>"You were made for Cherry, my dear," said she. "The part'll fit you as +easily as an old glove."</p> + +<p>And so it did, but the next night Rich went back to "The Rape of +Proserpine" and the piece continued to run until the summer, and then +the theatre closed as usual for three months.</p> + +<p>"Whatever am I to do Mrs. Egleton?" she cried despairingly. "I suppose I +could join Huddy's company again. Huddy I know would be glad enough to +have me but——"</p> + +<p>"Pray don't be silly," put in the experienced Mrs. Egleton. "It would be +lowering yourself. Rich would think you're not worth more than he's been +paying you and that's little enough—fifteen shillings a week. Good +Lord, how does he imagine a woman of our profession can live on that?"</p> + +<p>"It's because of our profession that he parts with so little. He has a +notion that we can make it up," rejoined Lavinia sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"You never said a truer word than that, my dear. Thank God I've my +husband, but <i>you</i>—well you'd better take a husband too or as nearly as +you can get to one."</p> + +<p>Lavinia shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Why not go to Hampstead? Heaps of money there and plenty of life. Bless +my heart alive, with that taking face of yours the men would be after +you like flies round a honey-pot."</p> + +<p>"I've no fancy for figuring as a honey-pot, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can think of nothing else."</p> + +<p>The mention of Hampstead was suggestive, but not in the way insinuated +by Mrs. Egleton. Half fashionable London flocked to Hampstead in the +summer, ostensibly to drink the water of the medicinal spring, but +really to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> gamble, to dance and to flirt outrageously. There was plenty +of entertainment too, of various sorts.</p> + +<p>Then she thought of Hannah's cousin, Betty Higgins at Hampstead. Lavinia +had saved a little money while with Rich and Huddy and she could afford +a small rent for lodgings while she was seeking how to maintain herself. +Concerts were given at the Great Room, Hampstead Wells. She might appear +there too. She would love it. She had seldom had an opportunity of +singing in any of the parts she had played, and singing was what her +soul delighted in.</p> + +<p>She made her way to Hampstead. The heath was wild enough in those +days—clumps of woodland, straggling bushes, wide expanses of turf, vast +pits made by the gravel and sand diggers, the slopes scored by water +courses with here and there a foot path—all was picturesque. The ponds +were very much as they are now, save that their boundaries were not +restrained and after heavy rains the water spread at its own free will.</p> + +<p>The village itself on the slopes overlooking the heath was cramped, the +houses squeezed together in narrow passages with openings here and there +where glorious views of the Highgate Woods and the country beyond +delighted the eye.</p> + +<p>Lavinia inquired for Betty Higgins in the village, but without success. +Indeed, the houses were not such as washerwomen could afford to live in. +Then she went into the quaint tavern known as the Upper Flask and here +she was told that a Mrs. Higgins who did laundry work was to be found in +a cottage not far from Jack Straw's Castle on the Spaniards' road and +thither Lavinia tramped, footsore and tired, for she had walked all the +way from London.</p> + +<p>Betty, a stout, sturdy woman was at her clothes lines stretched from +posts on a patch of drying ground in front of her cottage. She opened +wide her round blue eyes as Lavinia approached her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you Betty Higgins?" asked Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"Aye, that's me sure enough; an' who may you be, young woman?"</p> + +<p>"I'm Lavinia Fenton, a friend of your Cousin Hannah, who works for my +mother at the coffee house in the Old Bailey."</p> + +<p>"So you're the young miss as she told me of! Why, that be months an' +months agone. An' you never comed. It put me about, it did."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry. I never thought of that. But so many things I didn't +expect prevented me coming."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Hannah? She's been a-grievin' about you, thinkin' as you +might ha' come to harm."</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't been near the Old Bailey," said Lavinia hesitatingly. +"Perhaps you'll guess why. I dare say Hannah's told you about me and my +mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure she has. May be you don't know then that your mother's +got another husband?"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of it. She won't bother any more about me now."</p> + +<p>"May be not. But what d'ye want?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know if you can let me have a lodging. It'll suit me to +live at Hampstead for a while."</p> + +<p>"But s'posing as it don't suit me to have you?"</p> + +<p>"Then I must go somewhere else. I think Hannah would be glad if I was +with you."</p> + +<p>"Aye, but you've been away from her goodness knows how long. What have +you been a-doin' of all that while?"</p> + +<p>"Play-acting. I had a part last week in a play at the Lincoln's Inn +Theatre and Mr. Rich has promised me an engagement when the theatre +opens for the winter season."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Higgins with a sniff which might have signified pity or +contempt, or both. "I dunno as I hold with play-actin'. Brazen painted +women some o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> them actresses is and the words as is put in their mouths +to say—well—there——"</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," returned Lavinia hurriedly and with heightened colour. +"But that isn't their fault, and after all, it's not so bad as what one +hears in front—in the gallery——"</p> + +<p>"What, the trulls and the trapes and the saucy footmen! It made my ears +tingle when Hannah took me to Drury Lane. I longed to take a stick in my +hand an' lay it about 'em. So you're a play-actin' miss are ye? I'm +sorry for it."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that, Mrs. Higgins. One must do something—besides there's +good and bad folk wherever you go."</p> + +<p>"Aye, an' ye haven't got to go from here neither. A pack o' bad 'uns, +men and women, come to Hampstead. They swarm like rats at Mother Ruff's, +dancin' an' dicin, an' drinkin', an' wuss. I won't say as you don't see +the quality at the concerts in the Great Room, but the low rabble—well, +thank the Lord they don't come <i>my</i> way."</p> + +<p>Then Betty Higgins, who all this time had been eyeing the girl and +apparently taking stock of her, suddenly harked back to the all +important business which had brought Lavinia to her cottage.</p> + +<p>"If I let ye a lodging what are ye a-goin' to do till October?"</p> + +<p>"You spoke about the concerts at the Great Room just now," said Lavinia +meditatively. "Do they have singing?"</p> + +<p>"Singin'? Ah, an' such singin' as I never heard afore. I've never been +inside, it's far too fine fur the likes o' me, but the windows are +sometimes open an' I've listened an' paid nothin' fur it neither."</p> + +<p>"I want to sing in that room, Mrs. Higgins. If I had a chance I believe +I could please the fine gentlemen and their ladies and earn some +money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Betty Higgins stared aghast.</p> + +<p>"What are ye a-talkin' about, child? <i>You</i> sing? Where's your silk gown, +your lace, your furbelows to come from?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but I think something might be contrived."</p> + +<p>Lavinia had Mrs. Houghton, who had been the leading lady in "The Orphan" +and in "The Wits," in her mind. Mrs. Houghton was very friendly towards +her and had no end of fine dresses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but singin'. Goodness me, child, you haven't heard 'em in the Great +Room, all tralalas and twists and turns up and down, sometimes soft as a +mouse and sometimes so loud as 'ud a'most wake the dead. I'd like to +hear ye do all that, not mind ye, as I understand what it means, but its +pure grand."</p> + +<p>"I'll sing something to you Betty that you <i>can</i> understand. What of 'My +lodging, it is on the Cold Ground.' Would you like to hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't I! My mother was maid to Mistress Moll Davies, as King Charles +was mad over, though for the matter o' that he was always a runnin' +after the women. Anyway, it was that song and the way Moll sung it as +won his heart. Ah, them days is past an' I'm afeared as I mustn't speak +well of 'em or I'd be called a 'Jack,' clapped into Newgate or sent to +Bridewell and lashed. But give me 'Lodging on the Cold Ground' an' I'll +tell ye what I think. But I warn ye, mother copied Mrs. Davies an' 'll +know how it ought to be sung."</p> + +<p>Lavinia laughed to herself. She was quite sure if she could satisfy Mr. +Gay and Dr. Pepusch she could please Betty Higgins.</p> + +<p>"Them old songs," went on Betty, warming to her subject, "touches the +'eart and makes the tears come. But you don't hear 'em at the fine +concerts. I'll go bail as there beant a woman now-a-days as can make a +man fall in love with her 'cause of her singin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Lavinia musingly.</p> + +<p>"Well now, let me take in the clothes an' we'll have a dish o' tea an' a +bite and then you shall sing your song."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I'll help you with the clothes."</p> + +<p>Lavinia's offer pleased Betty, and the two were soon busy pulling the +various garments and bits of drapery from the lines and gathering from +the grass others that had been set to bleach in the wind and sun. This +done they entered the cottage. The window was small and the light dim. A +white-haired old woman was warming her hands and crooning over a wood +fire.</p> + +<p>"Eh, mother," cried Betty, "I've brought someone to sing to ye. 'Lodgin' +on the Cold Ground,' do ye remember that old ditty?"</p> + +<p>"Do I mind it? Why, to be sure. But who sings it now-a-days? Nobody."</p> + +<p>"Well, ye're going to hear it, and ye'll have to say if this young miss +here trolls it as well as Moll Davies used to."</p> + +<p>"What stuff ye be talkin', Betty," retorted the old woman. "Nobody can. +I can remember my mistress a-singin' it as well as if it was only +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Do ye hear that—I've forgotten what name Hannah told me yours was?"</p> + +<p>"Lavinia Fenton. But please call me Lavinia."</p> + +<p>"So I will. Now sit ye down, Lavinia, and talk to mother while I brew +the tea."</p> + +<p>Lavinia was rather dismayed at finding she was to pit herself against +the fascinating Moll whose charms had conquered the Merry +Monarch—possibly no very arduous task.</p> + +<p>The old lady was past eighty, but in possession of all her faculties. +When she said she remembered Moll Davies' singing perfectly well she +probably spoke the truth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tea was over. Betty cleared away and Lavinia at her request—to be +correct—at her command, sang, keeping her eyes fixed on the old lady +and so to speak singing <i>at</i> her.</p> + +<p>Before long the aged dame was mopping her eyes, and when Lavinia had +finished the pathetic ballad she stretched out both her wrinkled hands +towards the girl and in a quivering voice said:—</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear. Lor' ha' mercy, it takes me back sixty year. I +haven't heard that song since Mistress Davies sung it, an' lor' bless +me, it might be her voice as I were a-listin' to. Aye, an' you're like +her in face, though not in body. She was short an' a bit too plump, but +she was the prettiest of wenches. Moll's singin' brought her luck and +maybe yours will too."</p> + +<p>Lavinia heard the old lady's praise with delight. Betty could say +nothing. She was gazing spellbound at the nightingale. The charm of the +girl's melodious and expressive voice had swept away all her prejudices. +Lavinia should have a lodging and welcome. Betty went further. She did +the laundry of Mrs. Palmer, the wife of the director of the concerts at +the Great Room, and she undertook to tell the lady of the musical +prodigy living in her cottage, and promised Lavinia to beg her ask her +husband to hear the girl sing.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h4>"HALF LONDON WILL BE CALLING YOU POLLY"</h4> + +<p>And so it came about. Lavinia was sent for by Mr. Palmer, and she sang +to him. He was highly pleased with her voice, but he was afraid her +songs would not be to the fancy of his fashionable patrons.</p> + +<p>"One half are mad to have nothing but Mr. Handel's music and t'other +half cry out for Signor Buononcini's. Your songs are like neither. +There's no taste for English ballads. They're out of fashion. Scales, +ornaments, shakes and flourishes are now the mode. For all that, I'd +like to make the venture with you just for once."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. If the people don't care for my songs, there's an end +on it. I'll have to wait as best I can till Mr. Rich opens his theatre. +I may have a singing part in Mr. Gay's opera. Mr. Gay has promised me. +Have you heard about his opera?" cried Lavinia eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's being talked of in the coffee houses, I'm told. But if Mr. +Rich has his way, it won't do. Maybe he'll cut out the songs. Mr. Rich +knows nothing about music. He can't tell 'Lilibullero' from 'Lumps of +pudding.' Still, it's something to be taken notice of by Mr. Gay."</p> + +<p>Palmer was evidently impressed by Lavinia's talk, especially after she +had mentioned that she had sung to Dr. Pepusch at Mr. Pope's Villa. It +occurred to him that though Lavinia Fenton might be unknown now, a day +might come when she would be famous, and he could then take credit for +having recognised her talents.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>Besides, the manager happened to know that Gay and Arbuthnot were at +that moment staying at Hampstead to drink the waters—the first to cure +his dyspepsia, and the second to ease his gout. Palmer decided to send +word to the poet-dramatist intimating that a young lady in whom he had +heard Mr. Gay was interested was about to sing at one of the Great Room +concerts and begging for the honour of his patronage. But he said +nothing to Lavinia about this. All he remarked was that she should sing +at his concert on the following Wednesday, and Lavinia went away in a +dream of pleasurable anticipation.</p> + +<p>The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly +nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of +music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she +well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes—and +especially their dislikes—in the most unmistakeable fashion.</p> + +<p>The difficulty of her dress had been overcome. Palmer was shrewd. He had +an eye for contrast. He would have no finery and fallals, he said.</p> + +<p>"Your songs are simple, so must your gown be. If the people take to you +in the one they will in t'other."</p> + +<p>So Lavinia made her appearance in a plain dress, apron, mob cap, and of +course prodigious hoops. Her hair was arrayed neatly and not powdered. +There was powder enough and to spare on the wigs of the beaux in front, +and on the elaborate head-dresses of the belles.</p> + +<p>Lavinia's unadorned dress suited her natural and easy carriage and made +her doubly attractive. Not a hand was raised when she bowed, but she +could see that every eye was turned upon her with expectancy and +curiosity. But there was also a certain amount of indifference which +provoked her. It could hardly be supposed that any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>thing out of fashion +would be of interest to such modish folk.</p> + +<p>Lavinia chose her favourite—"My lodging it is on the cold ground."</p> + +<p>There were not a few aged bucks, painted and powdered and patched, aping +the airs and graces of younger gallants, who could remember Charles II. +and Moll Davies. They were startled when they heard Lavinia's liquid +notes in the old ballad—they felt that for a brief space they were +recovering their youth.</p> + +<p>As for the rest, they were conscious of a pleasant surprise. Against the +simplicity and pathos of the old ballad Buononcini's stilted +artificialities sounded tame and monotonous. When Lavinia finished +applause filled the room. She had to sing again.</p> + +<p>"You've caught 'em, my dear," said Palmer enthusiastically. "Before a +week's over you'll be the talk of Hampstead. You must stay here and sing +whenever I want you. Not every night—that would make you common. Only +now and again, just as a novelty. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia knew the ways of showmen quite well. She smiled and nodded, and +her eyes wandering towards the door of the ante-room in which she and +Palmer had been talking, whom should her gaze light upon but Mr. Gay! +Palmer was very well acquainted with Gay by sight, and hastening towards +the visitor made him a low bow.</p> + +<p>"I am highly honoured, sir, by your presence here to-night," said +Palmer, "I hope you did not think my sending you a ticket was taking a +liberty."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man! 'Twas very polite of you," returned Gay good-humouredly. +"I'm glad to be able to congratulate you on the success of your new +acquisition, especially as the little lady interests me greatly—as, +indeed, you mentioned in your note, though how you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> came to know of that +interest I'm at a loss to conceive, unless she told you so herself."</p> + +<p>"Not directly, sir, I confess. But she chanced to remark that she had +sung to you and to Dr. Pepusch, whom I am fortunate in numbering among +my friends."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye. Well, she <i>can</i> sing, eh? What d'ye think?"</p> + +<p>"Admirable, sir, admirable. She has been gifted both by nature and art."</p> + +<p>"And those gifts should put money in her pocket and yours too, Mr. +Palmer. I hope you'll reward her on a liberal scale."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, sir. I shall be happy to oblige you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, obliging me has nothing to do with the matter. But we will talk of +that later on. Pray pardon me."</p> + +<p>With a slight bow Gay turned away and walked to where Lavinia was +standing, her cheeks glowing and her eyes glistening with pleasure at +the sight of the genial poet who had done so much to encourage her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Polly," said Gay, extending his hand, "how came you here? I left +you making your way on the stage, and now I find you a songstress. +Faith, my dear, are you thinking of going back to your early days when +you did nothing but sing songs?" he added laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Not quite that, sir, but I always did love singing, as you know. And so +do you, sir, or you would never have persuaded the good duchess to spend +so much money on me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, maybe I was thinking of myself all the while," rejoined Gay. "I +admit I saw in you the very young woman I'd had in my mind for a long +time, for Polly Peachum in my opera. Did I not call thee Polly from the +very first?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, sir. I've never forgotten it. I hope you'll always call me +Polly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Make your mind easy as to that. Why, if my dreams come true, half +London will some day be calling you Polly, too."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean, sir."</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't. I'm not always sure that I know what I <i>do</i> mean. +But never mind. Let us take a stroll on the heath. On such a summer +night as this it is a shame to be cooped up betwixt four walls. Besides, +I want to talk with you."</p> + +<p>Manager Palmer bade Lavinia good-night with an air very different from +that with which he met her earlier in the evening. Her success and Gay's +evident friendship had worked wonders. He was quite deferential.</p> + +<p>As Lavinia and Gay passed through the dimly lighted vestibule to the +entrance a man from among the audience stole after them. He was very +pale and his pallor accentuated his projecting cheek bones and the +hollows above, from the depths of which his large eyes gleamed with a +glassy light. Evidently in ill health, he could hardly have kept pace +with the couple he was shadowing had they not been walking very slowly.</p> + +<p>"Everything is in our favour," Gay was saying. "Fortune has sent you +here at the right moment. You can act and you can sing. <i>I</i> know it, but +John Rich and the Duchess of Queensberry must know it as well. Both your +acting and singing must be put to the proof, and you must show her grace +that she hasn't wasted her money."</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm most anxious to do, sir."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye. Well, to-morrow I shall bring you some of the songs you'll +have to sing in my 'Beggar's Opera'—that is if we can talk that +curmudgeon Rich into the ideas that I and my friends have in our minds. +Are you lodging in Hampstead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I'm staying with Hannah's cousin. You remember Hannah, don't +you, Mr. Gay? I told you what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> a good friend she was to me and how she +saved me from my wicked mother and the designing fellow I was so silly +as to run away with. I shall never forget my mad fancies—never!"</p> + +<p>"Best forget them, my dear, though I fear you'll be apt to drive out one +fit of madness by taking on another. 'Tis the way love has, and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh," interrupted Lavinia hastily, "I don't believe it. I'm not going to +bother about love any more."</p> + +<p>"Every woman has uttered those words, and has had to eat them. How many +times have you eaten yours, my pretty Polly, since last you resolved to +forswear love?"</p> + +<p>"Not once. I've learned my lesson. I know it now by heart."</p> + +<p>"So it doesn't interest you now to know anything about poor Lance Vane?"</p> + +<p>It was not the pale moonlight that made Lavinia's cheeks at that moment +look so white. Gay, who was gazing fixedly at her, saw her lips quiver.</p> + +<p>"Poor Lance Vane? Why do you speak of him like that? Has he had his play +accepted and has it made his fortune?" she exclaimed ironically.</p> + +<p>"Neither the one nor the other. Ill luck's dogged him. I fear he wasn't +born under a prosperous star."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry if he's been unfortunate. Perhaps though it was his own +fault."</p> + +<p>A note of sadness had crept into her voice as Gay did not fail to note.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's hard to say. To be sure, his tragedy would not have taken +the town—neither Rich nor Cibber would have aught to do with it, but he +had worse misfortunes than that. He was denounced as a traitorous +Jacobite and thrown into Newgate."</p> + +<p>"That horrible place! Oh, I can't believe it," cried Lavinia, clasping +her hands. "Mr. Vane was no traitor, I'm sure—although——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>She paused. Politically Lancelot Vane might be incapable of treason, but +where love was concerned—well, had he not acted traitorously towards +her?</p> + +<p>"That's true. Vane was no traitor. He was accused out of spite. I went +to see him in Newgate. They had thrust him in the 'lion's den,' the most +filthy and abominable of infernos, and he was loaded with fetters. That +was because he hadn't a penny to 'garnish' his sharks of gaolers. You +know what 'garnish' means, child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed—money to bribe the gaolers with."</p> + +<p>"Aye, from the Governor downward, and not forgetting the chaplain. I was +able by flinging about a few guineas to better his condition, and as the +gaol fever was creeping upon the poor fellow, they were glad enough to +get rid of him. While I was there, he told me the whole story. It began +like most other stories with a woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," burst out Lavinia, "you needn't tell me. The woman was +that worthless creature, Sally Salisbury."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong there," returned Gay gravely, "the woman's name was +Lavinia Fenton."</p> + +<p>"That's not so. It couldn't be so. The newspaper said that Vane fought +with Archibald Dorrimore, and that the quarrel was about Sally +Salisbury."</p> + +<p>"The quarrel was part of the plot. It was concocted to hold up Vane to +your scorn. Dorrimore wanted revenge because he thought Vane had +succeeded where he had failed. True, Sally was present when the quarrel +began, but that might have been an accident. Indeed, it's possible she +was in the plot. Vane doesn't know one way or t'other."</p> + +<p>Lavinia was silent for a few moments. Then she said:</p> + +<p>"And is Mr. Vane in Newgate now?"</p> + +<p>"No. He was brought to trial after innumerable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> delays. The evidence +against him amounted to nothing. The witnesses—one of them a lying +wretch who ought to be whipped at the cart's tail from Newgate to +Charing Cross, by name Jeremy Rofflash—were scoundrelly common +informers of the lowest type. Lancelot's father, a Whig clergyman and +strong supporter of King George, appeared in court to speak on behalf of +his son's character, and the lad was acquitted. But I fear he's broken +in health, and I doubt if he'll be the man he was before."</p> + +<p>Again Lavinia was silent. It was all very sad, and she felt full of pity +for Lance. But at the back of her thoughts lurked the remembrance of +Sally Salisbury's mocking face, of her vulgar spite. She was not +altogether convinced that Lancelot Vane was insensible to Sally's +undoubted attractions. She sighed.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then," went on Gay, "I shall bring you the songs I want you +to learn."</p> + +<p>They had now come in sight of Betty's cottage. Lavinia pointed it out to +her companion, and Gay, bidding her adieu, turned in the direction of +Hampstead village.</p> + +<p>Pensively Lavinia walked towards the cottage. She had told herself over +and over again that she cared no more for Lancelot—that she had blotted +him out of her life—that she wanted neither to see him nor to hear of +him. Yet now that he had gone through so terrible an ordeal she had a +yearning to offer him her sympathy, if not to forgive him.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't do that," she murmured. "Accident or not, that vile woman +was with him—his arms were round her. I'll swear my eyes didn't play me +false."</p> + +<p>Suddenly she heard a halting step behind her. The heath at night was a +favourite haunt of questionable characters from dissolute men of fashion +to footpads, and a lone woman had need to dread one as much as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> the +other. Betty's cottage was but a few yards away, and Lavinia quickened +her pace.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fenton—one moment, I entreat," came in a panting whisper. "I—I +am Lancelot Vane. I must speak with you."</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h4>"FOR THE SECOND TIME VANE HAD RISKED HIS LIFE FOR HER"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia stopped and turned, not completely round but half way. She was +in a flutter, though outwardly calm. She made no attempt to recognise +Vane, and indeed had Lancelot not announced himself, recognition would +have been difficult, so greatly had he changed.</p> + +<p>"You've forgotten me. You're right," he went on agitatedly. "I deserve +to be forgotten, though if you knew of the dastardly plot to crush me I +believe even <i>you</i> would forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Even <i>I</i>? Am I, then, so hard-hearted?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't believe you are, but everything looked so black against me +I could scarce hope that you would listen to what I have to say. And +there's so great a difference between our fortunes. Mine's blighted. +Yours—I heard you sing to-night. 'Twas ravishing. You're destined to be +famous. Mr. Gay confided to me his hopes about you. Did he say how good +he was to visit me in Newgate—that hell upon earth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Gay is the best man living. I owe everything to him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know—I know. He went over your story. You're wonderful. But I always +thought that, though I knew so little about you."</p> + +<p>He paused. His glistening eyes scanned her face eagerly. He would have +given worlds to know what was in her mind and heart. But she gave him no +chance. She remained impassive.</p> + +<p>"You've been very unfortunate, Mr. Vane. I'm truly sorry for you."</p> + +<p>"That's something," said he gratefully. "It consoles me for what I've +gone through. The lies told by Rofflash and Jarvis, who I thought was my +friend, nearly sent me to Tyburn."</p> + +<p>"And Mistress Salisbury?"</p> + +<p>Lavinia's manner was as cold as ice. It was only by a great effort that +she forced her lips to utter Sally's name. She knew it meant a deadly +thrust for Vane, but a woman has no mercy where another woman is +concerned.</p> + +<p>Vane hung his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think about her," said he huskily. "I can hardly +believe she was in the conspiracy to consign me to the gallows."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Is she in love with you?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? I—I—well, I suppose I may say in justice to her that +she did her best to nurse me through the fever that followed my wound."</p> + +<p>"Then she does love you," cried Lavinia roused out of her coldness. "I +can't imagine the creature doing a good action without a strong motive."</p> + +<p>"I've heard say she's generous and is always ready to put her hand in +her pocket to help anybody in distress."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. It's easy to be generous with money that comes so lightly. +Every guinea she spends is tainted," exclaimed Lavinia passionately. +"And so you accepted her help?"</p> + +<p>"Not in money. She found me grievously ill at Dr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> Mountchance's on +London Bridge. Mountchance is a quack and a charlatan, and she had me +carried to her own lodgings else I must have died. I'd scarce recovered +from my wound when I was arrested at Rofflash's instigation and thrown +into Newgate."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she did right and you, too, Mr. Vane," rejoined Lavinia with +a toss of her head. "It is naught to do with me. Let us talk of other +matters. Mr. Gay tells me your father's a clergyman."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He would have had me be one too, but I hated everything to do with +the Church. We parted in anger, and I went my own way. Ill luck followed +me. I've made a mess of my life. Everything went wrong. I thought +Fortune was coming my way when I met you, but she turned her back."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't my fault, Mr. Vane."</p> + +<p>"Great heaven, no! 'Twas entirely my own folly and accursed fate. I've +no one to blame but myself. Wine was an easy way of drowning my +troubles."</p> + +<p>"You've no need to remind me of that, Mr. Vane," put in Lavinia hastily.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for going over my sins, but open confession's good +for the soul, they say."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not hear about your sins, Mr. Vane. I don't want to listen +when you talk like that. Tell me something of the other side."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if there is another side," he rejoined in deep dejection. "I've +had to come back to my father. He's vicar of a parish not far from here. +You see my stay in Newgate and my trial ruined me. The publishers +refused me employment and even my old companions turned their backs upon +me."</p> + +<p>"That was no loss."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, but it convinced me I was done for in London."</p> + +<p>"What do you intend to do, then?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell. Nothing, I suppose. I had my tragedy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> returned, and I've +no heart to write another—except, maybe, my own, and that will have to +be the task of somebody else."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? You're talking in riddles. How can anybody else write +your tragedy?"</p> + +<p>"Anybody who knew the facts could do it. You could. No one better. The +end's the difficulty—for you, not for me. But sooner or later you'd +hear what the end was."</p> + +<p>Lavinia grasped his wrist tightly, and looking into his face, saw his +lips twitching convulsively.</p> + +<p>"I understand," she burst out, "you mean to take your own life. Oh...."</p> + +<p>"A tragedy must have a tragic finish or it isn't a tragedy. What have I +left but for the curtain to come down?"</p> + +<p>"You're talking nonsense. Think of your father—your mother, if you have +one."</p> + +<p>"The best in the world, poor soul."</p> + +<p>"Very well, that settles it. You're more fortunate than I am. My +mother's about the worst."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, one must die sooner or later. I was within an ace of death two +months ago. The gallows wouldn't have been worse than a Hampstead pond."</p> + +<p>"You're more foolish than ever. I won't listen to you. Swear to be +sensible and think no longer of the miserables. I don't believe you're +much more than a year older than me. Life's all before you."</p> + +<p>"Life? A very little bit of it, and what a life! Waiting for death. +Shall I tell you what Dr. Mead, the great physician, told my father who +asked him to see me? 'That young man hasn't long to live. I give him a +year. Killed by the Newgate pestilence.' Now, what do you say, Miss +Fenton?"</p> + +<p>"Don't call me Miss Fenton," cried Lavinia, her voice quivering. "It +makes us seem miles apart. You poor fellow! But doctors aren't always +right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This one is. I feel it. But I don't care so long as you forgive me and +make me believe I'm no longer a stranger. You do pardon me, don't you, +Lavinia?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—yes—let us forget everything but our two selves," she cried +impulsively. Her heart was overflowing with pity. She held out both her +hands. He seized them and raised them to his lips.</p> + +<p>"May I meet you to-morrow?" he whispered. "The only thing I would live +for is the joy of seeing you, of hearing your voice. It will be but for +a short time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't say that. You don't know," she cried tremulously.</p> + +<p>A wistful smile stole over his wan face. Silently he held her hands for +a few seconds, pressed them spasmodically and the next moment they were +free. He had crept away.</p> + +<p>A wave of emotion swept over Lavinia. Her temples throbbed. A lump rose +in her throat. Her eyes were streaming. She was inexpressibly sad. +Jealousy, resentment, every harsh feeling had disappeared. Though she +had tried to combat Vane's dismal forebodings a conviction was gradually +forcing itself upon her that he was right. He was a doomed man.</p> + +<p>It was quite ten minutes before she was composed enough to enter the +cottage. Betty and her mother were tiptoe with excitement. The old woman +was too feeble to walk as far as the concert room, but her daughter had +gone and listened outside, and as it was a hot night and the windows +were open, she heard Lavinia's song perfectly.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me, child, why, an angel couldn't ha' sung more beautiful. La, +if it only be like that in Heaven! I'd ha' given anything for mother to +ha' been there. I see you come out with a gentleman, but I know manners +better than to stare at others as is above me."</p> + +<p>"That was Mr. Gay, the poet. It was he who took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> me to the Duchess of +Queensberry. I told you how kind she was to me, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, so you did. Well, but sure how the folk did clap their hands and +roar for you to sing again. They loved to hear you purely an' no wonder. +I never heard anything like it. But bless me, Lavinia—beggin' your +pardon, which I ought to say Miss Fenton—you don't seem overjoyed."</p> + +<p>"The girl's a-tired out," put in the old lady. "I mind it was just the +same with my poor mistress Molly. She sometimes couldn't move one foot +in front o' t'other when she comed off the stage."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough," said Lavinia wearily. "It's the excitement. I +shall be myself again after a night's rest."</p> + +<p>"Aye, to be sure. Some supper, as is all ready, and then to bed," cried +Betty.</p> + +<p>The prescription was good enough, but so far as the supper was concerned +Lavinia could not, to use Betty's words, "make much of a fist of it." +She was glad enough to escape the clack of tongues and the fire of +questions and crawl to her room.</p> + +<p>Slowly the hours crept by, and when the early summer dawn broke Lavinia +was still awake watching the faint streaks of pale gold through the +little latticed window.</p> + +<p>The rest in bed had not brought repose. Her mind was troubled. Lancelot +Vane's unexpected appearance and the story of his persecution strove for +mastery with the recollection of her triumph at the concert and had +overpowered it. All the old tenderness, the joy of being near him +revived. It was useless to ask why, useless to call herself weak and +silly to be drawn towards a man who had no force of character, whose +prospects were remote, whose health was undermined. The impression she +once had that he was faithless had not wholly disappeared, and she tried +to banish it. Her imagination found for him all manner of excuses. Yet +she could not decide that she wanted to see him again. One moment it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +seemed as though the blank which had come into her life since their +rupture had been filled up now that he had come back, the next that it +would have been better if he had not. She had gradually come to regard +her profession and all it meant to her in the future as the only thing +that mattered, and now in a flash at the sight of him all was +uncertainty and distraction.</p> + +<p>But for the second time Vane had risked his life for her! Mr. Gay said +it was on her account that he had fought with Dorrimore, and Mr. Gay +would not tell an untruth. After all, this was everything. How could she +think otherwise than kindly of a man in spite of his faults, who was +ever ready to champion her? And she dropped off to sleep no longer +saying that she would not meet him.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h4>"MR. RICH HAS GIVEN ME AN ENGAGEMENT"</h4> + +<p>Lavinia slept late and was only aroused by Betty hammering at her door.</p> + +<p>"Get up—get up, Miss Lavvy. A fine gentleman's a-waiting to see 'ee. +'Tis him as I see go out with 'ee last night from the concert."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gay," said Lavinia to herself. Then aloud: "I won't be long. What's +the time?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty nigh mid-day. I didn't wake 'ee afore 'cause I knowed you was +tired. He's a nice pleasant gentleman, sure. I wanted to hurry granny +out o' the room, but he wouldn't hear of it. I left 'em a-talking about +play matters. Once get mother on to <i>that</i> she'll go on fur ever."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lavinia sprang out of bed and hurried over her toilet. She presented +herself quite flushed and flustered. Gay received her with a smile and +noted her animation with pleasure. He unrolled a number of sheets of +music. The paper was rough and the notes, engraved and not printed as +to-day, were cramped and scratchy.</p> + +<p>"You know some of these tunes may be, Polly; those you don't know you'll +soon learn. I'm going to speak to Mr. Palmer about your singing two or +three just to see how the people take 'em. The words will be the old +ones, not my new verse. You won't have to trouble about my words yet +awhile."</p> + +<p>Gay ran over the titles of the old ballads—Purcell's "What shall I do +to show how much I love her?" "Grim King of the Ghosts," "Thomas I +cannot," "Now ponder well ye parents dear," "Pretty parrot say," "Over +the hills and far away," "Gin thou wert my ain thing," "Cease your +funning," "All in the Downs."</p> + +<p>"Those are the principal songs," went on Gay.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know a few, but I've never heard of the others," cried Lavinia a +little dismayed. "How shall I learn the tunes?"</p> + +<p>"You must come to my lodgings in the village and I'll play them over to +you on the flute. My friend, Dr. Arbuthnot, will be pleased to hear you +sing 'em. It will do him good—perhaps charm away his gout. The doctor +knows you."</p> + +<p>"Does he, sir? I don't remember him."</p> + +<p>"He was at Mr. Pope's villa the day you sang to us. I must have a +harpsichord and we must have Dr. Pepusch to tell us what he thinks."</p> + +<p>Lavinia heard all this with great delight. She felt she was really not +only on the ladder of success but was climbing upwards safely.</p> + +<p>Gay then fell to talking of other matters, and incidentally mentioned +that John Rich was back from Bath where he had been taking the waters, +and that he must be talked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> into engaging Lavinia permanently when the +season opened in October.</p> + +<p>"It won't be singing yet awhile Polly, so don't be disappointed if you +have to continue to walk on the stage and come off again. I'm told his +'Harlequin' hasn't finished its run so he'll open with that and go on +till my opera's ready. I'm all impatience to see you in it."</p> + +<p>Then patting her cheek and chucking her under the chin Gay took his +leave.</p> + +<p>It would have been hard for Lavinia to say how the day passed. She +walked on the heath for no other purpose, so she said, save to revel in +the sunshine and pure air. She had a secret hope that she might +encounter Lancelot Vane, but embarrassment was mingled with that hope. +It would be better not, she felt, yet she was disappointed all the same +when after strolling about for half an hour she saw nothing of him, and +banishing her vain thoughts she went on to the concert room to inquire +if she were wanted to sing that night.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure," said Palmer. "You're all the talk. I've seen Mr. Gay, +and he tells me he's given you some songs he would like you to sing. +Suppose you go over a couple now for me?"</p> + +<p>A harpsichord was in the room and Palmer asked her to sing what she +liked and he would fill in an accompaniment as best he could as she had +not brought the music. She selected "Now ponder well ye parents dear," +the tender pathos of which had always appealed to her, and "Thomas I +cannot," a merry ditty which she knew from her old experience as a +street singer would be sure to please. Palmer was delighted with both. +The first he said brought tears to his eyes and the second put him in +good humour.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you could not have made a better choice. I expect a crowded +room and you'll conquer 'em all."</p> + +<p>And so she did. There was no longer coldness—no longer indifference. +Everybody was agog with expectation, everybody was pleased. Lavinia's +triumph was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> complete. Night after night it was the same. Palmer had +never had so successful a season. He put money in his pocket and he paid +his new star fairly well.</p> + +<p>Two or three times a week for over a month Lavinia went to Gay's +lodgings and rehearsed the songs she did not know and those also with +which she was already acquainted. The words Gay gave her to sing were +not those to which she was accustomed and she found the change +confusing. Moreover, at each rehearsal some alterations in the words +were made, occasionally by Gay, occasionally at the suggestion of Dr. +Arbuthnot. But she never wearied, and so she was sufficiently rewarded +for her trouble when Gay bestowed upon her a word of praise.</p> + +<p>But Lancelot Vane?</p> + +<p>He came not in spite of his earnest entreaty that she would meet him. At +first she was wounded, then she was indignant. She remembered how +faithless he had proved, and all her bitterness against him and Sally +Salisbury revived. Then came a revulsion of feeling. Why should he not +be ill? Nay, he might even be dead. Perhaps worse. If he had carried out +his despairing threat? She pictured him floating on the surface of a +Hampstead pond and a shudder went over her at the gruesome thought. +Finally she subsided into dull resignation and strove to think no more +about him.</p> + +<p>It was September; with the colder weather came the waning of the +Hampstead season, the fashionable folk were returning to London and +preparing for masquerades, ridottos, the theatres and the opera. The +Great Room concerts were but thinly attended and for a whole fortnight +Lavinia had not sung twice. But this did not matter to her. She had been +written to by John Rich, and he had engaged her at a little higher +salary than he had hitherto paid.</p> + +<p>Lavinia sang for the last time at Hampstead and quitted the Great Room +not without regrets and doubts. Would she be as successful at the Duke's +Theatre? Would she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> have her chance? She well knew the rivalries a +rising actress would have to encounter. But what disturbed her most was +that Gay's enthusiasm over his opera did not seem so keen as it had +been. She dared not ask him the cause of his depression. She could only +watch his varying moods and hope the melancholy ones would pass.</p> + +<p>Hitherto Betty had always been waiting for her to accompany her across +the heath, but this last night she was not in her usual place at the +door. Lavinia was not surprised as Betty had a bad cold. She hurried +out, anxious to get home. Some one a yard or so from the entrance shrank +into the darkness as she passed out but not so rapidly that he was not +noticed and recognised.</p> + +<p>Lavinia was full of generous impulses that evening. Everything had gone +so well with her, and the future in spite of her doubts was so bright.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vane," she cried and moved a step towards him. "Do I frighten you +that you don't want to see me?"</p> + +<p>"No," she heard him say, but it was with difficulty for his voice was so +low. "I'm not frightened but I'm afraid of what you might say or think."</p> + +<p>"You don't give me a chance of the one or the other," she retorted. "You +don't keep your own appointments. 'Tis a bad habit of forgetfulness with +women, it's worse with men."</p> + +<p>"You're right, but in my case 'tis not forgetfulness. I've seen you +every time you've sung. I've not missed once."</p> + +<p>"And you've never acknowledged my presence! Thank you."</p> + +<p>"I was at fault there, I suppose. I kept my happiness to myself. I ought +to have thanked you for the joy of seeing and hearing you but I was +doubtful whether I should not be intruding."</p> + +<p>"It would have been no intrusion," rejoined Lavinia her tone softening.</p> + +<p>"Then I hope my admiration is not an impertinence."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, you're too modest, Mr. Vane. You've no confidence in yourself—save +when you've need to strike a blow."</p> + +<p>"I've no confidence that I'm acceptable to you and—but may I accompany +you across the heath? I notice that your usual bodyguard is absent +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've noticed <i>that</i>. May be that bodyguard prevented what you're +pleased to call your intrusion."</p> + +<p>"It made no difference. Had you been alone I should have taken care that +you reached home safely but you would not have known that I was within +call. May I?"</p> + +<p>He had offered his arm. She accepted it. Now that he was close to her +she could see that he had vastly improved. His unhealthy pallor was +gone, his eyes had lost their glassiness, his step was firm, his body +more elastic.</p> + +<p>They set out. For a few yards not a word was said. Lavinia was the first +to speak.</p> + +<p>"I hope the Hampstead ponds have lost their attraction," said she +lightly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed yes—thanks to you. My mother says it is due to the Hampstead +air, but I know better. Is it true that I'm no longer to drink of the +elixir that is restoring me to health and sanity? Are you going to leave +Hampstead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm returning to London. Mr. Rich has given me an engagement."</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you. You're fortunate, but your fortune's not more than +you deserve. You're going to be famous. I'm sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Well—and you? You'll be writing something soon, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I've no mind to court failure a second time. My father has +secured me a post at a mercers in Ludgate Hill. I'm still to mingle with +books but they're not of the sort which used to interest me. They have +to do with figures. I've undertaken to keep the accounts."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish you success. Mind you keep 'em correctly. I've my doubts about +that," rejoined Lavinia with a little laugh. "But I mustn't discourage +you."</p> + +<p>"You'll never do that. I love even your chiding."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense."</p> + +<p>"It's true. I swear it."</p> + +<p>The talk was drifting into a personal channel and Lavinia swiftly +changed the subject. The rest of the way was occupied in friendly chat. +At parting Lancelot would have kissed her hand but she adroitly avoided +his homage. Not because she was averse but because she thought it +discreet.</p> + +<p>Lavinia went to bed that night content with the world and with herself. +She felt a secret pleasure that she had in a way brought Vane back to +life though how she had done it she could not explain. At any rate, +there was no magic about it. It was a very ordinary thing—no +romance—and certainly no love. So at least she argued and ended by +thinking she had convinced herself.</p> + +<p>In London Lavinia went back to her old lodgings in Little Queen Street, +and revived her acquaintance with Mrs. Egleton. The latter received her +with much effusion, which puzzled Lavinia not a little. The cause, +however, was revealed when the lady explained how she had heard from +John Rich that when "The Beggar's Opera" was put into rehearsal he was +going to give her the part of Lucy.</p> + +<p>"And you, my dear, are to play Polly."</p> + +<p>"So Mr. Gay says, but I don't know for certain."</p> + +<p>"Have you read the play?"</p> + +<p>"No, I've only learned my songs."</p> + +<p>"And the duet with me?"—"I'm bubbled."</p> + +<p>"No. I know nothing about that."</p> + +<p>"It's terribly hard, but there's plenty of time to get it by heart. I'm +dreadfully nervous though. We have to sing it without any instruments, +not even a harpsichord. All the songs are to be like that."</p> + +<p>"Oh.... Won't it all sound very poor?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course it will. You see that mean hunks Rich won't go to the expense +of a band. He doesn't know how the opera will take the people. It may be +hissed off the stage the first night. I don't trouble my head about +politics—I can't say I know what the rubbish means—but I'm told +there's a good deal in the opera that's likely to give offence."</p> + +<p>"I can't think Mr. Gay would write anything likely to offend anybody."</p> + +<p>"Can't you? Well, if the Church can easily give offence, much more +likely a playwriter. Why, wasn't the Bishop of Rochester sent to the +Tower for what he said, and isn't he at this very moment in Paris and +afraid to show his nose in England? Oh, you can't call your soul your +own now-a-days. We poor playfolk may bless our lucky stars that we've +only got to say the words set down for us and not our own. Mr. Gay who +writes 'em for us'll have the worry and he's got it too, what with +Rich's scraping and saving and his insisting upon Mr. Quin playing in +the opera."</p> + +<p>Lavinia now saw why Gay had been depressed. But Mr. Quin the surly, who +only played in tragedies, what had he to do with Gay's opera? She put +the question to Mrs. Egleton.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all. He hasn't any more idea of singing than an old crow. +It's ridiculous, but Rich will have his way. I tell you flatly, Lavinia, +if Quin plays the part of Captain Macheath he'll be laughed at and so +shall we, and the piece will be damned."</p> + +<p>Lavinia thought so too. She had, as Mrs. Squeamish in Wycherley's play, +once acted with Quin on the occasion of his benefit and she well +remembered his stiff, stilted style and how he domineered over +everybody. She felt rather dismayed but she could only resign herself to +the situation. There was the consolation that the opera was not likely +to be staged for some time and things might alter. In the theatre any +sudden change was possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>For weeks, indeed to Christmas, Lavinia remained one of the "lasses" in +"The Rape of Proserpine," but she was quite contented, for Lancelot Vane +was permanently in London in his new post and they were constantly +together. Every night he was waiting for her outside the stage door and +saw her across the Fields to Little Queen Street. It was not safe, he +protested, for her to be in that dark dreary waste alone at night and he +was right. Lincoln's Inn Fields was one of the worst places in London. +The most daring robberies even in daylight were of common occurrence.</p> + +<p>Despite the short days of winter they took long walks together. On the +day "betwixt Saturday and Monday," like the lad and the lass of Carey's +famous ballad at that time all the rage, to them Sunday was the day of +days. Sometimes they strolled to the pleasant fields of Islington and +Hornsey; sometimes they revisited Hampstead, and occasionally by way of +the Westminster and Lambeth ferry to the leafy groves of Camberwell, and +the Dulwich Woods. They never talked of love; they were contented and +happy, may be because both were conscious they <i>were</i> in love.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h4>"POLLY IS TO BE MY NAME FOR EVER AFTER"</h4> + +<p>The new year brought the first rehearsal of "The Beggar's Opera." +Hippisley with his rich, unctuous humour was Peachum, and not less well +suited to Lockit was Jack Hall's quaint face and naive manner. James +Spiller, the favourite of the gods, was Mat o' the Mint, and the solemn +visaged Quin essayed Macheath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> Lavinia as Polly was both excited and +nervous, and Lucy (Mrs. Egleton) not less so. The rest of the cast +comprised actors and actresses of experience, and they went through +their parts philosophically and without enthusiasm. The motive and the +plot and the many songs made up a play which was to them quite novel, +and they were somewhat bewildered to know what to do with it. Gay +hovered about unable to decide whether his opera was going to be a +thumping success or a dismal failure. The general impression was in the +direction of the latter, but no one save Quin gave vent to his or her +sentiments.</p> + +<p>"Well, what d'ye think, Mr. Quin?" asked Gay anxiously when the +rehearsal was over.</p> + +<p>Quin refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff before he answered.</p> + +<p>"Humph—can't say—can't say. It'll be a riddle to the audience. Bad +thing to puzzle 'em, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Surely it's plain enough. But if it's amusing, what else matters?"</p> + +<p>"I won't put my opinion against yours, Mr. Gay and Mr. Pope's, but——"</p> + +<p>Quin shrugged his shoulders and stalked away, and Lavinia, who was +watching the two from a distance, ran across the stage, her face a +little troubled. She had interpreted Quin's gesture correctly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Gay——" she stopped. Gay was looking so sad.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quin doesn't like the opera, Polly. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quin doesn't like it because he can't act the part," cried Lavinia +indignantly. "None of us like him in it any more than he does himself. +He's not my idea of a highwayman."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you know about highwaymen? But I forgot, of course. Wasn't +the coach that brought you to London from Mr. Pope's villa stopped by +one?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," rejoined Lavinia hastily, "but he was a brutal ruffian. Not your +Captain Macheath at all. Mr. Quin chills me. I can't fancy myself in +love with him. Nor can Mrs. Egleton. She says she could no more quarrel +over him than she could over a stick. His singing and his voice give us +the 'creeps.'"</p> + +<p>"Faith, both are bad enough, but Mr. Rich seems bound to him."</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he try Tom Walker? When Tom isn't drunk, he sings like an +angel."</p> + +<p>"I know—I know. Well, we'll see."</p> + +<p>But nothing was done, and at the second rehearsal Quin's Captain +Macheath was more droningly dismal than ever. A dead silence followed +the dance with which the last act concludes, and amid the stillness came +from somewhere behind the scenes the sound of a mellow tenor voice +trolling Macheath's lively melody, "When the heart of a man's depressed +with care."</p> + +<p>"By the lord," quoth Quin, "that's the voice of Tom Walker. He's the man +for Macheath. Mr. Rich, I resign the part. It was never meant for me. +Give it to Walker."</p> + +<p>John Rich grunted, but he made no objection. It so happened that Walker +could act as well as sing, and that made all the difference in Rich's +estimation. So one great obstacle to success was removed. But there were +others. The duets and the choruses sounded terribly thin without an +instrument to support them. The "tricky" duet between Polly and Lucy, +"I'm bubbled," broke down constantly, and both declared they would never +sing it properly. But Rich was not to be talked out of his whim to have +no accompaniments.</p> + +<p>One morning in the midst of the rehearsal, who should walk on the stage +but the stately Duchess of Queensberry. Lavinia, in quite a flutter, +whispered to Walker the name of the distinguished visitor. John Rich +received her with great deference and conducted her to a seat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go on, please, Mr. Rich, don't let me interrupt your business," said +the great lady affably.</p> + +<p>The rehearsal went on and eyes of the company furtively wandered to the +face of the duchess, anxious to know what so powerful a personage and so +keen and outspoken a critic thought of the performance. But the serene +face of her grace never changed.</p> + +<p>The rehearsing of one act was over, and there was an interval before +commencing the next one. The duchess turned to Gay.</p> + +<p>"How is this, Mr. Gay? Where are the instruments? Don't you have them at +rehearsals?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rich means to do without a band for the singing. He says it isn't +necessary."</p> + +<p>"Rich is a fool," retorted her grace with much emphasis. "He knows +nothing about it. Send him to me."</p> + +<p>Gay went about his errand half pleased, for he quite agreed with the +duchess, and half in trepidation. A quarrel between Rich and the lady +autocrat might cause the opera to end in disaster.</p> + +<p>Rich dared not offend Queensberry's duchess whose opinion went for so +much among the aristocracy. The stage was practically dependent on its +noble patrons. Without them a "benefit," which every notable member of a +theatrical company looked forward to as making good the insufficiency of +their salaries, would be nothing without the support of the nobility, +who, when in the mood, would readily unloose their purse strings. Rich +therefore made but feeble resistance and the impetuous Kitty had her +way.</p> + +<p>The band, small as it was, just half-a-dozen instruments, could not be +called together at a moment's notice. Rich accordingly invited his +visitor to come the following day, when all would be in readiness. He +was as good as his word, and the duchess was graciously pleased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> to +express her satisfaction. Polly and Lucy went back to their lodgings in +high spirits.</p> + +<p>January 29th was fixed for the production of the opera, and the days +sped rapidly. Everybody concerned was on tenterhooks. Who could say how +the audience would take a play the like of which they had never seen? +There was also danger in the political allusions contained in many of +the verses. Sir Robert Walpole, England's most powerful minister of +state, had taken a box and would be present with a party of his friends. +What would <i>he</i> think? A riot was not beyond the bounds of possibility. +The play might be suppressed. A prosecution for seditious proceedings +might follow. Anything might happen.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the house was packed. Every seat on each side of the stage +reserved for the "quality" was occupied. There was just room for the +actors and no more. The gallery was crammed with a mob—a host of +footmen prone to unruly behaviour, butchers from Clare Market ready to +applaud their favourite Jemmy Spiller, Covent Garden salesmen and +porters—a miscellaneous rabble that might easily become turbulent.</p> + +<p>In the pit were well to do tradesmen and their wives cheek by jowl with +well seasoned playgoers who had seen every stage celebrity and every +famous tragedy and comedy for the past quarter of a century, who were +well versed in all the traditional "business" of the boards, who in fact +were the real critics to be pleased—or offended. Into the second row +Lancelot Vane had squeezed himself all expectation, with eyes and ears +for no one but Polly Peachum.</p> + +<p>Gay's friends filled a box next to that occupied by the Duke of Argyll, +an enthusiastic patron of the stage. Gay himself was there supported on +either side by Pope, Dr. Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke and others. Dean Swift, +who had had so much to do with the inception of the opera and who had +contributed to it some of the most stinging verse,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> would have been +present had he not been in Ireland at the death-bed of his beloved +Stella, and so also would have been Congreve but that he was blind and +in feeble health.</p> + +<p>It was seen at the very commencement that the audience was not disposed +to accept the innovations of the "Beggar's Opera" without protest. To +begin with there was no time-honoured prologue, and worse, there was no +preliminary overture. They could not understand the dialogue between a +player and the beggar, introduced as the author, with which the opera +opens. They grumbled loudly. They thought they were to be defrauded of +their usual music and they wouldn't allow the dialogue to proceed. Jack +Hall who as a comedian was acceptable all round was sent on by the +troubled manager to explain.</p> + +<p>Hall advanced to the edge of the stage. There were no footlights in +those days. Favourite though Jack Hall was not a hand nor a voice was +raised to greet him. Jack Hall lost his nerve—which, however, as it +turned out was the most fortunate thing which could have happened—and +this is what he stammered out:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen, we—we—beg you'll not call for first and second +music because you all know there is never any music at all at an opera!"</p> + +<p>A roar of laughter followed this unique apology accentuated by the +unconsciously comical twist of Hall's face with which the audience were +so familiar; good humour was restored, the dialogue was permitted to be +finished and the grumblers were further appeased by the playing of Dr. +Pepusch's overture.</p> + +<p>More pitfalls had to be got over safely. Every eye was turned on Sir +Robert's heavy rubicund, impassive face when Peachum sang the verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"The priest calls the lawyer a cheat,</div> +<div class='i1'>The lawyer be-knaves the divine,</div> +<div>And the statesman because he's so great,</div> +<div class='i1'>Thinks his trade as honest as mine!"</div> +</div></div> + +<p>The statesman in the box, whatever he might have felt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> was far too +astute to show any sign of ill temper. His eternal smile was as smug as +ever and so also was it over the duet in the second act:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"When you censure the age</div> +<div>Be cautious and sage</div> +<div>Lest the courtiers offended should be;</div> +<div>If you mention vice or bribe,</div> +<div>'Tis so pat to all the tribe,</div> +<div>Each cries 'That was levelled at me.'"</div> +</div></div> + +<p>The audience were somewhat timid in applauding this, though all felt how +apt it was, until they saw Walpole actually clapping his hands, and then +they followed suit right heartily.</p> + +<p>Still success was not assured. True Polly captivated her hearers with +her sweet natural delivery of "Can love be controlled by advice?" and +afterwards with the tender pathos of "Oh ponder well," and there were +roars of laughter and half suppressed chuckles from the men and titters +from the women at the witty talk and the cynical hits at love and +matrimonial felicity, but it was not until Spiller led the rousing +choruses, "Fill every glass," and "Let us take the road," the latter +adapted to the march from Handel's opera of "Rinaldo," then all the +rage, that they were won over. The experienced Duke of Argyll cried out +aloud enough for Pope in the next box to hear him, "It'll do—it must +do—I see it in the eyes of 'em." And the duke was right.</p> + +<p>When all was said and done pretty Polly Peachum was the pivot around +which success revolved. Within twenty-four hours all the town was +talking of her bewitching face, her artless manner, her sweet voice. The +sordid surroundings of Newgate, its thieves, male and female, its thieve +takers, gave zest to her naturalness and simplicity. Moreover she was +not in a fashionable dress, she wore no hoops (and neither did Lucy) and +this in itself was a novelty and a contrast.</p> + +<p>It was some time after the performance that Lavinia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>—whom everyone now +called Polly—left the theatre. The noblemen who had seats on the stage +crowded round her overwhelming her with compliments and looks of +admiration. One of their number, a man of portly presence at least twice +her age, whose face suggested good nature but little else, was assiduous +in his attentions. Lavinia accepted his flattery as a matter of course, +and thought nothing more about him. She was told he was the Duke of +Bolton, but duke or earl made no difference to her. Some of her titled +admirers offered to escort her home but she shook her head laughingly +and refused everyone. She knew very well that Lancelot Vane would be +waiting for her as usual at the stage door, and she did not intend +either to disappoint him or make him jealous.</p> + +<p>She joined him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with excitement. +Vane looked eagerly and anxiously into her face and gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well," said she, "are you disappointed with me?"</p> + +<p>"Disappointed! Good heavens, no. Why Lavinia—"</p> + +<p>"Lavinia," she cried tossing her head coquettishly. "Polly if you +please. Polly is to be my name for ever after. Everybody knows me now as +Polly, though dear Mr. Gay called me so long and long ago. Isn't it +wonderful how his words have come true?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gay is a clever man—a great man. I wish—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and what do you wish? Something nice I hope."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. My wish was that I had been born a real poet +and dramatist and had written 'The Beggar's Opera' for you. But my wits +are dull—like myself."</p> + +<p>"Please don't be foolish. I want you to tell me how I sang—how I acted. +You didn't mind Tom Walker making love to me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I wished my arm had been round you instead of his, that was all."</p> + +<p>"Wishing again! Can't you do something beyond wishing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>She flashed a swift look at him and then the dark silky lashes drooped. +He must have been dull indeed not to have understood. His arm was about +her. He drew her closer to him passionately. It was the first time, +though he had over and over again longed to do so.</p> + +<p>"I love you—don't you know I do?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"I've sometimes thought as much but you've been very slow in telling +me," she murmured lightly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I was afraid what your answer might be. Ridicule and a reproof for +my impertinence. Even now I don't realise my happiness."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>must</i>," she cried imperiously. "How do you know I shan't be +whirled away from you unless you hold me very tight? Oh, Lance, I've a +misgiving—"</p> + +<p>She stopped. She shivered slightly and he drew her cloak tightly about +her and kissed the cherry lips within the hood.</p> + +<p>"You're cold, dearest. Let us hurry. I ought not to have lingered," said +he.</p> + +<p>"No, no. I'm not a bit cold. I only had a sort of feeling that—kiss me +again."</p> + +<p>He was quick to obey and her kisses were as fervent as his.</p> + +<p>"See me to my door and go quickly," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, dear love, we shall meet each other again," was his reply.</p> + +<p>"Why yes—yes."</p> + +<p>"Many times more."</p> + +<p>She nodded. Something seemed to choke her utterance. One more kiss and +she vanished into the house.</p> + +<p>Vane remained for a minute or two gazing at the dwelling that enshrined +his divinity and lost in rapture. Then he slowly wandered to his +lodgings marvelling at the glimpse of heaven which to his imagination +had been revealed to him.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h4>THE CURTAIN FALLS</h4> + +<p>Before the week was out the only topic in which the town took any +interest was "The Beggar's Opera," and the "all Conquering Polly," as an +advertisement setting forth the attractions of a miniature screen +designed as a memento of the opera, had it. In a score of ways +enterprising tradesmen adapted the scenes and the songs to their wares +and in all Polly was the principal feature. Polly became the fashion +everywhere. Amateur flautists played her songs, amateur vocalists +warbled them. Hardly a week passed without one daily journal or the +other burst into verse in her praise.</p> + +<p>As for Polly herself she was inundated with love letters, some written +seriously, others purely out of admiration. Offers of marriage came both +personally and through the post. The world of gallants was at her feet. +She laughed at most of her would-be lovers and listened to none. The +good natured Duke of Bolton approached her constantly and was never +tired of going to the opera. Seated as he was on the stage it was easy +enough for him to express his adoration. He was also ever ready with +presents which he proffered with so respectful an air that she could +hardly refuse them. But what did the duke mean? Had he not a duchess +already? True, he was not on the best of terms with her. He had been +forced into marriage by his father and he and his wife had been +separated some six years. But this made no difference. The duchess was +still in the world.</p> + +<p>Polly—henceforth she dropped the Lavinia—heard what his grace had to +say but gave him no encouragement beyond smiling bewitchingly now and +again. She did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> dislike him, but she did not care for him. Lancelot +Vane was still the hero of her romance and that romance would never die. +Sometimes she amused herself and Lancelot too by telling him of the +offers of marriage she had received and how she had refused them, but +she never mentioned the Duke of Bolton.</p> + +<p>One night—it was the twenty-second performance of the opera—Lancelot +Vane was in his accustomed place at the end of the second row in the +pit. There was a vacant seat on the other side of his, and half way +through the third act a late comer was heard growling and without saying +by your leave or with your leave attempted to force himself past Vane +into the empty seat.</p> + +<p>Lance looked up angry at the rudeness of the fellow. He started. He +recognised Jeremy Rofflash-Rofflash very much the worse for the drink, +very much the worse in every way since Vane had last set eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>Things had gone very badly with the swashbuckler. Archibald Dorrimore, +his old patron, was dead, killed by dicing, drinking and other vices. +Rofflash had had to take to the "road" more than ever and he'd had very +bad luck. A bullet from a coach passenger's pistol had struck his knee +and he now limped. He was nearly always drunk and when drunk all his old +hatreds were uppermost. Directly he saw Vane, his bleary eyes glistened +and his lips tightened over his uneven teeth and the ugly gaps between.</p> + +<p>"Devil take me, if it isn't the cockerel whose feathers I've sworn to +pluck. Come to ogle the young trollop on the stage, I'll swear. If I +know anything about the hussy, she'll turn you down for the first spark +who flings a handful of guineas in her lap."</p> + +<p>Jeremy's gruff rasping tones were heard all over the house. Polly and +Lucy were singing their duet "Would I might be hanged," and both cast +indignant looks at the side of the pit whence the interruption came. But +they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> could only hear, not see, so dimly was the theatre lighted. +Meanwhile Vane had sprung to his feet.</p> + +<p>"You lie you ruffian," he shouted and his hand went to his sword.</p> + +<p>The people in the front and back benches rose; the women screamed; one +of the theatre attendants who chanced to be near seized Rofflash who +struggled violently and swore loudly. Some of the audience came to the +attendant's assistance and the fellow was flung out. The uproar soon +subsided—it had not lasted more than a couple of minutes, the music +went on and Polly thought no more about it. She had not the slightest +idea that the chief actors in it so nearly concerned herself.</p> + +<p>The sequel to the discomposing interruption was totally unpremeditated. +Polly was the "toast of the town," the idol of the sparks of fashion. +Their applause was uproarious when she and Lucy recommenced the duet, +but this sympathetic encouragement was not enough for the more ardent +spirits. When she issued from the stage door she found awaiting her a +bodyguard of young aristocrats dressed in the height of the mode and in +the gayest of colours. At her appearance every man's sword flashed from +its scabbard and was uplifted to do her honour.</p> + +<p>Never was such a triumph. No wonder her heart bounded and her cheeks +flushed with pleasure. She smiled right and left and bowed; the rapiers +on either side crossed each other over her head and formed a canopy +under which she walked with a dainty grace. She was not permitted to +pass from beneath its shelter. The canopy kept pace with her, closing +behind. And in this way the procession set out to cross Lincoln's Inn +Fields amid cheers and shouts of "Pretty Polly Peachum!"</p> + +<p>It would seem as though the services of Polly's protectors were not +wholly unneeded. As she emerged from the door and the gallants closed +round her there was a sudden movement in the mob, a fellow forced his +way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> through, hurling curses at anyone who tried to stop him. Apparently +his object was to get to a man standing close to the bodyguard. Anyway, +when the intruder was behind this man a woman's scream pierced the din +of voices, then came the report of a pistol and the man staggered. Those +nearest him, seized with panic, fell back and he sank to the ground.</p> + +<p>A woman was seen to fling herself on her knees, bend over the body and +gaze into the face already becoming ashen. The next instant she sprang +to her feet, her features drawn, her eyes blazing. Pointing to the +assassin who was rushing through the crowd she begged someone to stop +him, but the big pistol he was flourishing deterred them.</p> + +<p>"Cowards!" she screamed in fury. "Will no one seize a murderer? If +you're men you'll help me."</p> + +<p>She made a wild rush in the direction the ruffian had taken and a score +or so of apprentices and a handful of Clare Market butchers recovering +from their surprise joined her.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Polly and her escort gaily went on their way. They were dimly +conscious of the affray but such occurrences at night and especially in +Lincoln's Inn Fields were frequent, and not one of the party heeded. How +indeed could Polly imagine that her romance had ended in a tragedy, that +the man lying so still, his white face upturned to the moonlit sky, was +her lover, Lancelot Vane—that the man who had done him to death was +Jeremy Rofflash—that the woman in hot chase of his murderer was Sally +Salisbury?</p> + +<p>Rofflash had made for the network of courts and allies of Clare Market +hoping to double upon his pursuers and gain the Strand, and then hurry +to the Alsatia of Whitefriars. But some of those following knew the +intricacies of Clare Market better than Rofflash, and he twisted and +turned like a hunted hare, his difficulties momentarily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> increasing, for +as the excited mob fought their way through the narrow lanes their +numbers swelled. True, Jeremy Rofflash made his way to the Strand +without being captured, but he failed to reach Whitefriars. The Strand +and Fleet Street gave his pursuers a better chance. But because of his +pistol none dared touch him.</p> + +<p>Despite his limp he could run. Along Ludgate skirting St. Paul's, he was +soon in Cheapside. By this time Sally Salisbury was nearly exhausted, +and in St. Paul's Churchyard she jumped into a hackney coach and shaking +her purse at the driver bade him join in the pursuit. The Poultry, the +Royal Exchange were left behind, but the coach—with Sally inside +continually calling upon the driver to go faster, at the same time +promising him any reward he liked to ask—gradually drew upon the +fugitive. The latter was close to the road leading to London Bridge, and +turning, he fired his second barrel at the horse and the animal stumbled +and fell.</p> + +<p>Rofflash thought he was safe, but he was not aware that the leader of +his pursuers was Sally Salisbury and that she knew perfectly well why he +was running towards the bridge. She sprang from the now useless coach +and called upon the crowd to follow her. Meanwhile Rofflash had +distanced his pursuers.</p> + +<p>"The apothecary's shop on London Bridge," she screamed.</p> + +<p>Dr. Mountchance at that moment was engaged in what to him was his +greatest pleasure in life—counting his gold. He was in the midst of +this absorbing occupation when he heard three separate knocks at his +outside door given in a peculiarly distinctive way. He knew Jeremy's +signal and he hurried his gold into an iron bound coffer which he +locked.</p> + +<p>"If the captain's made a good haul so much the better," he muttered. +"It's time he did. He's had the devil's bad luck of late."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old man shuffled to the door and shot back the bolts. Rofflash +precipitated himself inside with such haste and violence that he nearly +upset Mountchance.</p> + +<p>"Lock the door," he gasped. "Quick. I've a pack of hungry wolves at my +heels."</p> + +<p>He leaned against a heavy piece of furniture hardly able to speak while +the apothecary hastily fastened the door. Scarcely had he finished than +yells and heavy footsteps were heard; there came heavy thuds and fierce +kicks followed by repeated hammering. The door was well protected by +iron panels and besides its bolts a stout iron bar from post to post +helped to make it secure.</p> + +<p>The two men looked at each other and Mountchance trembled. The crowd +outside were not officers of the law, neither were they soldiery. What +had caused them to hunt down Rofflash? Not because he had committed a +robbery on the King's highway. The rabble had a secret sympathy with +highwaymen.</p> + +<p>"What have you done?" whispered the old man through his white lips.</p> + +<p>"Shot a man. It was a fair fight—or might have been had it come to a +tussle."</p> + +<p>Mountchance knew Rofflash to be a hardened liar. The truth probably was +that he had committed a murder. But there was no time to argue the +point. To judge by the terrific blows which came at regular intervals +something much more formidable than an ordinary hammer was being used. +Then there was the sound of splintering wood. The door sturdy as it was +would not stand much more. As a matter of fact the mob had procured a +stout wooden beam from somewhere, twelve or fourteen feet long and were +making it serve as a battering-ram.</p> + +<p>"Damnation! I'm not going to be trapped," roared Rofflash, "I know the +secret way to the chapel. You stay here and face 'em."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. If that murderous mob doesn't find you they'll turn upon me. I'm an +old man but they'll have no mercy," whined Mountchance.</p> + +<p>"You fool. Can't you see that some one <i>inside</i> the house must have +bolted and barred the door? If they don't find you they'll search until +they do. You must tell them that I'm not in the place—that you haven't +seen me. That'll satisfy 'em and they'll go away quickly."</p> + +<p>"It's you that's the fool. Somebody must have seen you enter—how else +did they know you were here?"</p> + +<p>Another ominous splintering noise, then the sharp crack of ripping wood.</p> + +<p>"No more of this damned nonsense," muttered Rofflash, and swinging his +arm he gave Mountchance a blow with the flat of his hand, toppling him +over. Without waiting to see what injury he had inflicted Rofflash +rushed to a tall cabinet, entered it and closed the doors after him just +as a yell of savage joy was raised outside. The iron bar was still +across the entrance but there was a jagged aperture above and below. A +couple of seconds more and the cabinet was empty. Rofflash had +disappeared through a secret door at the back.</p> + +<p>Mountchance's house, as already mentioned, was really an adjunct of St. +Thomas's chapel, so far at least as the foundation was concerned. This +foundation had once formed the lower chapel or crypt and was then the +only distinctive relic of the bridge built by Peter of Colechurch, in +the thirteenth century. Rofflash descended the uneven loose bricks of +the narrow winding staircase into the dungeon-like apartment. The stone +floor was not much above the level of the river at high tide and a +lancet window on each side of the bridge admitted a glimmer of light in +the day time. It was now pitch dark.</p> + +<p>Rofflash groped his way over the slimy floor to a small door which he +knew opened on to an abutment between two arches. He only did this by +feeling the wall as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> went. He hoped when outside to hail a passing +wherry. At any rate it was unlikely his hiding place would be discovered +by any of the mob.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the shop and room above were filled with a rabble more +than half of which was out for plunder. Mountchance was lying on the +floor unconscious, but no one bothered about him. In the opinion of some +it was perhaps as well, as he would be unable to prevent them doing as +they liked. This opinion was not held by Sally Salisbury. She was +convinced Rofflash was in the house though she had not seen him actually +enter. It angered her to think that Mountchance who could have told her +anything was as good as dead. She called upon the crowd to search for +the murderer but they turned a deaf ear to her entreaties. They were +much more interested in looting the place; and finding the iron bound +coffer and hearing the chink of coin within, they attacked it savagely +and succeeded in smashing the lock.</p> + +<p>The sight of gold was too much for them. They scrambled, they fought, +they trampled upon each other. The yellow metal acted upon them like +strong drink. In the midst of the pandemonium came a deafening +explosion, a vivid flash of red, a volume of acrid suffocating vapour. +Another explosion and men came rushing from Mountchance's +laboratory—terror written in their faces. Helter-skelter the crowd +darted from the house forcing Sally Salisbury with them whether she +would or not. In the mad fight for gold large glass bottles filled with +acids, alcohol and other inflammable liquids had been upset and smashed, +and the smouldering fire in the furnace did the rest. What with the +bundles of dried herbs which burnt like so much tinder and the woodwork, +the panelled walls and furniture, nothing could save the house.</p> + +<p>In the hurry and scramble Sally had been wedged against the wall +surmounting the central and largest arch. Upon this arch no house had +been built. Below the spot where she was held a prisoner the river was +rushing with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> its monotonous roar as if rejoicing at or indifferent to +the terrible tragedy above. At first she saw nothing but clouds of +suffocating smoke pouring from the windows, then showers of sparks +floating downwards and vanishing in the water, and finally tongues of +fire hissing and roaring from within the house and mingling in one huge +flaring flame.</p> + +<p>Looking over the parapet she caught sight of a gaunt figure on the +abutment now strongly illuminated, now in deep shadow according to the +height and strength of the flames and the wayward wind. So fantastic, so +grotesque was this figure, his gesticulations, his waving hands, he +suggested a demon rather than a human being. Now and again he put a +curved hand to his mouth. Doubtless he was shouting but the roar of the +fire and the howling of the mob smothered every sound.</p> + +<p>It was Rofflash—his true character revealed, nerve stricken, a coward +at heart. Yet he was in no immediate danger. The fire could not reach +him. The only thing he had to fear was the rising tide should it chance +to wash over the abutment and sweep him off his feet.</p> + +<p>But it is always the unexpected that happens. Some receptacle with +inflammable contents which the fire had overlooked—probably it was +stored in one of the upper rooms—exploded with terrific violence. Roof, +rafters, tiles, brickwork, shot into the air and fell in every +direction. Sally with many others was sent prostrate by the shock, but +was uninjured. When she was able to rise and look over the parapet no +one was on the abutment. Jeremy Rofflash had met his fate.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<p>"The Beggar's Opera" continued on its triumphant way. Night after night +the theatre was packed. Night after night Polly was listened to with +increasing delight. She had never sung her plaintive ditties with such +pathos. No one suspected the reason. No one knew that she had given her +heart to the poor young man killed in a brawl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>—so the newspapers +described it—in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Polly's love for Lancelot Vane +was a secret sacred to herself. She gave her confidence to nobody—not +even to Gay. She had been happy in her love dreams, happier perhaps than +if they had become realities. Her roaming life had not brought romance +to her until she met Lancelot Vane. The sweetheartings of others had +always seemed sordid and commonplace. Had Vane been presumptuous she +would have had nothing to say to him, but she was drawn towards him +because he was drifting to his ruin and she yearned to save him. That +she should see him no more deadened her heart and numbed her brain. So +she made no effort to find out the why and wherefore of his death and +the story never reached her.</p> + +<p>Sally Salisbury could have told her, but Sally, to her credit, be it +said, did not seek to inflict a wound for the mere satisfaction of +witnessing the agony of her rival. Vane was dead and retribution had +swiftly overtaken his assassin. What was left? Nothing. Sally had also +found romance, and some tender womanly instinct—an instinct too often +blunted by her life and temptations—sealed her lips. She had avenged +the death of the only man she ever loved with anything like purity. Let +that suffice.</p> + +<p>The opera had an unprecedented run of sixty-two nights. Every one +marvelled. Such a thing had never happened before and when the next +season the run was continued its attractions were undimmed, save in one +particular—the original Polly Peachum was no longer to be seen or +heard. Gradually it became gossipped about that the Duke of Bolton's +suit had succeeded. The Polly over whom everybody, rich and poor, high +and low, for nearly five months had lost their heads and their hearts, +had quitted the stage for ever. Twenty-three years later the duke was +able to prove his devotion by making her his duchess. Even then she +rarely took part in fashionable functions. Her simple tastes and dislike +of display never deserted her. Yet she was not and is not forgotten, +though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> nearly two hundred years have passed away since she burst into +the full flush of fame. Her memory is preserved in every one of her +innumerable successors who have succeeded in reproducing in any degree +her charm and artlessness. This memory is not attached to Lavinia +Duchess of Bolton, but to "Pretty Polly Peachum."</p> + +<p class='tbrk'> </p> + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + +***** This file should be named 18547-h.htm or 18547-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/4/18547/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/18547.txt b/18547.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d9d25c --- /dev/null +++ b/18547.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9600 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Madame Flirt + A Romance of 'The Beggar's Opera' + +Author: Charles E. Pearce + +Release Date: June 10, 2006 [EBook #18547] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + MADAME FLIRT + + + A ROMANCE OF + "THE BEGGAR'S OPERA" + + BY + + CHARLES E. PEARCE + + _"Why how now Madam Flirt"--Lucy._ + + + AUTHOR OF + + "STIRRING DEEDS IN THE GREAT WAR," "A QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK," + "CORINTHIAN JACK," ETC. + + LONDON + STANLEY PAUL & CO. + 31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.2. + +_Printed in Great Britain at the Athenaeum Printing Works, Redhill_ + + FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1922. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"IF YOUR NAME ISN'T POLLY IT OUGHT TO BE" + + +"As pretty a wench as man ever clapped eyes on. Wake up, Lance, and look +at her." + +The portly man of genial aspect sitting in the corner of the bow window +of the Maiden Head Inn at the High Street end of Dyott Street in the +very heart of St. Giles, clapped his sleeping friend on the shoulder and +shook him. The sleeper, a young man whose finely drawn features were +clouded with the dregs of wine, muttered something incoherently, and +with an impatient twist shifted his body in the capacious arm-chair. + +"Let him alone, Mr. Gay. When a man's in his cups he's best by himself. +'Twill take him a day's snoring to get rid of his bout. The landlord +here tells me he walked with the mob from Newgate to Tyburn and back and +refreshed himself at every tavern on the way, not forgetting, I warrant +you, to fling away a guinea at the Bowl, the Lamb, and the 'Black Jack' +over yonder, and drink to the long life of the daring rogue in the cart +and the health of the hangman to boot." + +"Long life indeed, my lord. A couple of hours at most. Not that the +length of life is to be measured by years. I don't know but what it's +possible to cram one's whole existence into a few hours, thanks to that +thief of time," rejoined John Gay pointing to the bottle on the table. + +The poet's placid face saddened. John Gay had always taken life as a +pleasure, but there is no pleasure without pain as he had come to +discover. Maybe at that moment a recollection of his follies gave his +conscience a tinge. Of Gay it might be said that he had no enemies other +than himself. + +"Oh, the passing hour is the best doubtless, since we never know whether +the next may not be the worst," laughed Henry St. John, Lord +Bolingbroke. "I'll wager Jack Sheppard's best was when the noose was +round his neck. The rascal will trouble nervous folks no more. After all +he was of some use. See that drunken rabble. But for the brave show he +made at Tyburn yesterday, would those ladies and gentlemen be merry +making, think you, and would the tavern keepers and the gin sellers be +putting money in their pockets?" + +Gay turned his eyes to the open window. + +"I don't want to think of the rascally knave or the rabble either. My +thoughts are on yonder pretty little jade. Look for yourself, +Bolingbroke. You're not so insensible to beauty as Lance Vane is at this +moment." + +"Faith, I hope not. Where's the charmer?" said Bolingbroke walking to +the window. + +"Stay. She's going to sing. She has the voice of a nightingale. I've +heard her before. Lord! to think she has to do it for a living!" + +"Humph. She has courage. Most girls would die rather than rub shoulders +with that frousy, bestial, drunken mob." + +"Aye, but that little witch subdues them all with her voice. What says +Will Congreve? Music has charms to soothe a savage breast? Listen." + +A girl slight in figure but harmoniously proportioned had placed herself +about two yards from the bow window. She fixed her eyes on Gay and her +pretty mouth curved into a smile. Then she sang. The ditty was "Cold and +Raw," a ballad that two hundred years ago or so, never failed to delight +everybody from the highest to the lowest. She gave it with natural +feeling and without any attempt at display. The voice was untrained but +this did not matter. It was like the trill of a bird, sweet, flexible +and pure toned. + +"A voice like that ought not to be battered about. It's meant for +something better than bawling to a mob. What says your lordship?" + +Bolingbroke's face had become grave, almost stern. His high, somewhat +narrow, slightly retreating forehead, long nose and piercing eyes lent +themselves readily to severity. Twenty-five years before it was not so. +He was then the gayest of the gay and in the heyday of his career. Much +had happened since then. Disappointed political ambitions and political +flirtations with the Jacobite party had ended in exile in France, from +which, having been pardoned, he had not long returned. + +Meeting Gay, the latter suggested a prowl in St. Giles, where life was +in more than its usual turmoil consequent upon the execution of Jack +Sheppard; so Viscount Bolingbroke revisited the slums of St. Giles, +which had been the scene of many an orgy in his hot youth. + +The nobleman returned no answer to Gay's question. His thoughts had gone +back to his early manhood when he took his pleasure wherever he found +it. In some of his mad moods St. Giles was more to his taste than St. +James's. So long as the face was beautiful, and the tongue given to +piquant raillery, any girl was good enough for him. He was of the time +when a love intrigue was a necessary part of a man's life, and not +infrequently of a woman's too. + +Successful lover though he had been he was not all conquering. The +ballad singer's tender liquid tones carried his memory back to the +low-born girl with the laughing eyes who had captured his heart. She +sold oranges about the door of the Court of Requests, she sang ballads +in the street, she was a little better than a light of love, yet +Bolingbroke could never claim her as his own. It angered him sorely +that she had a smile for others. But he bore her no malice, or he would +hardly have written his poetical tribute commencing:-- + + + "Dear, thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend, + Believe for once the lover and the friend." + + +So Gay's words were unheeded. A heavy step sounded on the sanded floor. +A big man with features formed on an ample mould had entered. Gay was +entranced by the singer and did not hear him. The newcomer stood +silently behind the poet. He too, was listening intently. + +The girl's voice died into a cadence. Gay beckoned to her and she came +up to the window. + +"Finely sung, Polly," cried Gay. "Who taught thee, child?" + +"I taught myself, sir," said she dropping a curtsey. + +"Then you had a good teacher. There's a crown for you." + +"Oh sir ... it's too much." + +"Nay, Polly--if your name isn't Polly it ought to be. What does your +mother call you?" + +"Mostly an idle slut, sir." + +Her face remained unmoved save her eyes, which danced with sly +merriment. + + +The men at the window burst into a roar of laughter. He who had entered +last laughed the loudest and deepest, and loud and deep as was that +laugh it was full of music. At its sound Gay turned sharply. + +"What? Dick Leveridge? You've come at the right moment. We need someone +who knows good music when he hears it. What of this pretty child's +voice. Is it good?" + +"Is it good? I'll answer your question, Mr. Gay, by asking you another. +Are you good at verses?" + +"'Tis said my 'Fables' will be pretty well. The young Prince William +will have the dedication of it and if his mother, the Princess of Wales +approves, methinks my fortune's made," cried Gay buoyantly. + +"Glad to hear it," replied Leveridge, dryly. "If I know anything about +His Royal Highness you'll gain a fortune sooner by writing a ballad or +two for this pretty songster. Make her famous as you made me with 'All +in the Downs' and 'T'was when the seas were roaring.'" + +Gay's face brightened. + +"Faith, Dick, you've set my brain working. I'll think on't, but that +means I must keep my eye on the wench." + +"Oh, I'll trust you for that," rejoined Leveridge, the ghost of a smile +flitting across his solemn visage. + +Meanwhile the girl had retreated a yard or two from the window, her gaze +fixed wistfully on Gay and Leveridge. She knew from their looks that she +was the subject of their talk. + +Gay turned from his friend Richard Leveridge, the great bass singer of +the day, and rested his hands on the window sill. Bolingbroke had sunk +into his chair, and buried in his thoughts, was slowly sipping his wine. +Lancelot Vane continued to breathe heavily. + +"Come here, child," said Gay through the open window and sinking his +voice. The crowd had pressed round her and were clamourous for her to +sing again. Some had thrown her a few pence for which a couple of +urchins were groping on the ground. + +The girl approached. + +"Now Polly----" + +"My name's Lavinia--Lavinia Fenton, sir," she interrupted. + +"Too fine--too fine. I like Polly better. Never mind. If it's Lavinia, +Lavinia it must be. What's your mother? Where does she live?" + +"At the coffee house in Bedfordbury." + +"Does she keep it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And what do _you_ do?" + +"Wait on the customers--sometimes." + +"And sometimes you sing in the streets--round the taverns, eh?" + +"Only when mother drives me out." + +"Oh. She ill treats you, does she? That bruise on your shoulder--was it +her work?" + +The girl nodded. + +"You wouldn't mind if you left your mother and did nothing but sing?" + +"Oh, that would be joy," cried the girl squeezing her hands tightly +together to stifle her emotions. "But how can I?" + +"It may be managed, perhaps. I must see your mother----" + +He was interrupted by a deafening roar--hoarse, shrill, raucous, +unmistakably drunken. A huge, ragged multitude had poured into the High +Street from St. Martin's Lane, jostling, fighting, cursing, eager for +devilment, no matter what. They rushed to the hostelries, they +surrounded the street sellers of gin, demanding the fiery poisonous +stuff for which they had no intention of paying. + +The landlord of the "Maiden Head" hurried into the room somewhat +perturbed. + +"Best shut the window, gentlemen," said he. "This vile scum's none too +nice. Anything it wants it'll take without so much as by your leave, or +with your leave." + +"What does it mean, landlord?" asked Bolingbroke. + +"Oh's all over Jack Sheppard. The people are mad about the rascal just +because the turnkeys couldn't hold him, nor prison walls for the matter +o' that. He was clever in slipping out o' prison I grant ye. Well, sirs, +his body was to be handed over to the surgeons like the rest o' the +Tyburn gentry, but his friends would have none of it. A bailiff somehow +got hold of the corpse to make money out of it--trust them sharks for +_that_ when they see a chance--an' smuggled it to his house in Long +Acre. It got wind afore many hours was past and the mob broke into the +place, the Foot Guards was called out an' there's been no end of a +rumpus." + +"Faith, my poor Gay," said Bolingbroke with a sardonic smile, "the +people make more fuss over a burglar than over a ballad maker. And +what's become of the noble Sheppard's body, landlord?" + +"It's hidden somewhere. They say as it'll be buried to-night in St. +Martin's Churchyard. So the people'll get their way after all." + +"As they mostly do if they make noise enough," rejoined Bolingbroke +refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff. + +"Yes, your honour, and----" + +The sound of a loud high pitched, strident voice floated into the room +through the open window. Gay, whose eyes had never shifted from the girl +outside, saw her cheeks suddenly blanch. She looked round hurriedly like +a frightened rabbit seeking a way of escape. + +"Bring the girl in, landlord," exclaimed the poet hastily. "She'll come +to harm else. Lord! Look at those drunken beasts. No--no"--the landlord +was about to shut the latticed windows--"run to the door, child. Quick." + +A howling sottish mob mad with drink, clamouring, gesticulating, men and +women jostling each other, embracing vulgarly, their eyes glassy, their +faces flushed, was approaching the inn. + +The mob was headed by a handsome woman. She was in the plenitude of +fleshly charms. Her dress, disordered, showed her round solidly built +shoulders, her ample bust. Some day unless her tastes and her manner of +life altered she would end in a bloway drab, every vestige of beauty +gone in masses of fat. But at that moment she was the model of a +reckless Bacchante, born for the amusement and aggravation of man. + +Her maddening eyes were directed on the Maiden Head inn. Her full lips +were parted in a harsh boisterous laugh; her white teeth gleamed; the +blood ran riot in her veins; she was the embodiment of exuberant, +semi-savage, animal life. She danced up to the open window. The sight of +the sleeping Lance Vane had drawn her thither. + +Up to that moment Lavinia Fenton's back was towards the woman. Lavinia +tried to get away without notice, but the Bacchante's escort was too +numerous, too aggressive, too closely packed. They hoped for some fun +after their own tastes. + +"Mercy on me," muttered Gay apprehensively, "that impudent hussy, Sally +Salisbury. And drunk too. This means trouble. Dick," he whispered +hurriedly to Leveridge, "you can use your fists if need be. I've seen +you have a set-to in Figg's boxing shed. That girl's in danger. Sally's +bent on mischief. There's murder in her eyes. Come with me." + +Leveridge nodded and followed his friend out of the room. + +Gay's action was none too prompt. No sooner had Sally +Salisbury--destined to be, a few years later, the most notorious woman +of her class--set eyes on the girl than her brows were knitted and her +lips and nostrils went white. Her cheeks on the other hand blazed with +fury. She gripped the shrinking girl and twisted her round. Then she +thrust her face within a few inches of Lavinia's. + +"What do you mean by coming here, you squalling trollop?" she screamed. +"How dare you poach on my ground, you----" + +How Sally finished the sentence can be very well left to take care of +itself. + +Lavinia despite her terror of the beautiful virago never lost her +self-control. + +"You're welcome to this ground every inch of it, but I suppose I've as +much right to walk on it as you have," said she. + +"Don't talk to me, you little trull, or you'll drive me to tear your +eyes out. Take that." + +With the back of her disengaged hand she struck the girl's cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +"GO YOUR OWN WAY YOU UNGRATEFUL MINX" + + +The mob roared approval at the prospect of a fight, and though the +combatants were unfairly matched some of the ruffians urged the girl to +retaliate. + +"Go for her hair, little un," one shouted. "There's plenty of it. Once +you get a fair hold and tear out a handful she'll squeak, I'll warrant." + +The advice was not taken and maybe nobody expected it would be. Anyway, +before Sally could renew the attack her arm was seized by a man, slight +in stature and with a naturally humorous expression on his lean narrow +face and in his bright twinkling eyes. + +"Enough of this brawling, mistress. If you _must_ fight choose someone +as big and as strong as yourself, not a lambkin." + +The crowd knew him and whispers went round. "That's Spiller--Jemmy +Spiller the famous play actor." "No, is it though. Lord, he can make +folks laugh--ah, split their sides a'most. I see him last Saturday at +Master Rich's theayter in the Fields, and I thought I should ha' died." + +Spiller was better at making people laugh than at holding an infuriated +woman. But he had two friends with him, stalwart butchers from Clare +Market, and he turned the task over to them with the remark that they +were used to handling mad cattle. + +At this point Gay and Leveridge forced their way through the crowd. Gay +saw the red angry mark on the girl's pallid face and guessed the cause. +He drew her gently to him. + +"Run inside the house. I'll join you presently," he whispered. + +She thanked him with her eyes and vanished. Gay turned to Spiller. + +"You deserve a double benefit at Drury Lane, Jemmy, for what you did +just now. That wild cat was about to use her claws," said he. + +"Aye, and her teeth too, Mr. Gay." + +"You'll need a mouthful of mountain port after that tussle. And your +friends as well, when they've disposed of Mistress Salisbury." + +The butchers had removed her out of harm's way. Some of her lady friends +and sympathisers had joined her; and a couple of young "bloods" who had +come to see the fun of an execution, with money burning holes in their +pockets, being captured, the party subsided into the "Bowl" where a +bottle of wine washed away the remembrance of Sally Salisbury's +grievance. But she vowed vengeance on the "squalling chit" sooner or +later. + +Meanwhile the object of Sally Salisbury's hoped for revenge was sitting +in a dark corner of the coffee room of the Maiden Head tavern. She felt +terribly embarrassed and answered Bolingbroke's compliments in +monosyllables. He pressed her to take some wine but she refused. To her +great relief he did not trouble her with attentions. + +Then Gay entering with Spiller and his butcher friends, and Leveridge, +as soon as he could, approached her. + +"Tell me, Polly,--my tongue refuses to say Lavinia--how you have +offended that vulgar passionate woman?" + +"I don't know. Jealousy, I suppose. She's burning to sing but she can't. +Sing, why she sets one's teeth on edge! It might be the sharpening of a +knife on a grindstone. She would be a play actress, and Mrs. Barry at +Drury Lane promised to help her, but they quarrelled. Sally wanted to be +a great actress all at once, but you can't be, can you, sir?" + +She looked at the poet earnestly. Her large grey eyes were wonderfully +expressive, and Gay did not at once answer. He was thinking how sweet +was the face, and how musical and appealing the voice. + +"True, child, and that you should say it shows your good sense. Wait +here a few minutes and then you shall take me to your mother." + +Gay crossed the room to his friends, and they talked together in low +voices. Spiller and Leveridge had much to say--indeed it was to these +two, who had practical knowledge of the theatre, to whom he appealed. +Bolingbroke sat silently listening. + +Gay's project concerning his new found protegee was such as would only +have entered into the brain of a dreamy and impecunious poet. He saw in +Lavinia Fenton the making of a fine actress--not in tragedy but in +comedy--and of an enchanting singer. But to be proficient she must be +taught not only music, but how to pronounce the English language +properly. She had to a certain extent picked up the accent of the +vulgar. It was impossible, considering her surroundings and +associations, to be otherwise. But proper treatment and proper +companions would soon rid her of this defect. + +Both Spiller and Leveridge agreed she was fitted for the stage. But how +was she to be educated? And what was the use of education while she was +living in a Bedfordbury coffee house! + +"She must be sent to a boarding school and be among gentlefolk," +declared Gay energetically. + +"Excellent," said Bolingbroke, speaking for the first time, "and may I +ask who will pay for the inestimable privilege of placing her among the +quality?" + +The irony in St. John's voice did not go unnoticed by Gay, but he +continued bravely. + +"I will, if her mother won't." + +"You? My good friend, you can scarce keep yourself. But 'tis like you to +add to the burden of debt round your neck rather than reduce it. Have +you been left a fortune? Have your dead South Sea Shares come back to +life?" + +"Nay, Bolingbroke, don't remind me of my folly," rejoined Gay, a little +piqued. "We can't always be wise. Thou thyself--but let that pass, the +future is the foundation of hope. Before long I shall be in funds. The +'Fables' will be in the booksellers' hands ere the month is out." + +"Oh, that's well. But the booksellers, though eager enough to sell their +wares, are not so ready to pay the writer his due. Moreover if I know +anything of John Gay, of a certainty all the money he puts in his pocket +will go out of the hole at the other end." + +"I know--I know," rejoined the poet hastily. "But I'm not thinking alone +of the booksellers. It is a 'place' I shall have and an annual income +that will sweep away all my anxieties." + +"Then you're in favour with the Princess and her obedient servant Sir +Robert--or is Walpole her master? What will the Dean of St. Patrick and +Mr. Pope say to your surrender?" + +"No, no. I will never write a word in praise of either. There's not a +word in the 'Fables' that can be twisted into bolstering up the +Government." + +"And you think to receive your comfortable 'place' out of pure +admiration of your poetical gifts? My poor Gay!" + +"No. Friendship." + +"Well, well, you must go your own way or you wouldn't be a poet. I leave +you to your commendable work of rescuing damsels in distress." + +And after refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff Bolingbroke with a +wave of the hand to Gay and his friends strode from the room leaving the +poet with his pleasant face somewhat overcast. + +But his chagrin did not last long. His natural buoyancy asserted itself +and he beckoned to Lavinia who was sitting primly on the edge of the +hard chair, her folded hands resting on her lap. Before she could cross +the room Spiller and Leveridge took up Bolingbroke's argument, and urged +Gay not to meddle further in the matter. + +"Nay, why should I not? It would be a shame and a pity that so much good +talent should be wasted on the groundlings of St. Giles. Besides, there +is the girl herself," Gay lowered his voice. "You wouldn't have her be +like Sally Salisbury, Jemmy, would you? She has a good and innocent +nature. It will be torn to tatters if she be not looked after now. No. +Neither you nor Dick Leveridge will talk me out of my intent. Do you see +what misguided youth may easily come to? Look at your friend Vane." + +Gay pointed to the sleeping young man. + +"I know--I know. The young fool," returned Spiller a little angrily. +"Wine is Lancelot Vane's only weakness--well, not the only one, any +pretty face turns his head." + +"He's not the worse for that provided a good heart goes with the pretty +face." + +"Aye, _if_." + +"Look after him then. When he awakens from his drunken fit he'll be like +clay in the hands of the potters." + +"Faith, you're right, Mr. Gay, but there's one thing that'll protect +him--his empty purse. I doubt if he has a stiver left. I know he drew +some money from the _Craftsman_ yesterday." + +"What, does he write for that scurrilous, venomous print?" cried Gay, +visibly disturbed. + +"Not of his own will. He hates the paper and he hates Amherst, who owns +it. But what is a man to do when poverty knocks at the door?" + +"That may be. Still--I wish he had nothing to do with that abusive +fellow, Nicholas Amherst, who calls himself 'Caleb D'Anvers,' why I know +not, unless he's ashamed of the name his father gave him. Do you know +that the _Craftsman_ is always attacking my friends, Mr. Pope, Dr. +Swift, Dr. Arbuthnot? As for myself--but that's no matter." + +"Oh, Amherst's a gadfly, no doubt. But your friends can take care of +themselves. For every blow they get they can if it so pleases them, give +two in return." + +"That's true, and I'll say nothing more. I wish your friend well rid of +the rascally D'Anvers. Look after him, Jemmy. Come Polly--let us to your +mother." + +Both Spiller and Leveridge saw that Gay was not to be turned from his +resolution to help the girl, and presently she and her new found friend +were threading their way through a network of courts and alleys finally +emerging into the squalid thoroughfare between New Street and Chandos +Street. + +The dirt and the poverty-stricken aspect of the locality did not deter +the poet from his intention. Bedfordbury was not worse than St. Giles. +The girl led him to a shabby coffee shop from the interior of which +issued a hot and sickly air. + +"That's mother," she whispered when they were in the doorway. + +A buxom woman not too neatly dressed, whose apron bore traces of +miscellaneous kitchen work, scowled when her eyes lighted on her +daughter. + +"So you've come home, you lazy good-for-nothing hussy," she screamed. +"Where have you been? You don't care how hard I have to work so long as +you can go a pleasuring. There's plenty for you to do here. Set about +washing these plates if you don't want a trouncing." + +Mrs. Fenton was in a vile temper and Gay's heart somewhat failed at the +sight of her. Then he glanced at the girl and her frightened face gave +him courage. + +"Madame," said he advancing with a polite bow, "I should like with your +permission to have a few words with you in private. My business here +concerns your daughter in whom I take an interest." + +"Oh, and who may you be?" asked the woman ungraciously. + +"My name is Gay--John Gay--but I'll tell you more when we're alone." + +He cast a look around at the rough Covent Garden porters with which the +place was fairly full. One of the boxes was empty and Mrs. Fenton +pointed to it, at the same time ordering her daughter to go into the +kitchen and make herself useful. Then she flopped down opposite Gay, +separated from him by a table marked by innumerable rings left by coffee +mugs. + +Gay put forward his ideas and painted a glorious future for Lavinia. Her +mother did not seem particularly impressed. It was doubtful indeed if +she believed him. + +"You'll find the wench a handful. She's been no good to me. I'd as lieve +let her go her own way as keep her. A young 'oman with a pretty face +hasn't got no need to trouble about getting a living. Sooner or later +she'll give me the slip--but--well--if you takes her and makes a lady of +her what do I get out of it?" + +This was a view of the matter which had not occurred to the poet. He +felt decidedly embarrassed. His project appeared to be more costly than +he had at first imagined. + +"It is for the benefit of your daughter," he stammered. + +"Her benefit, indeed. Fiddle-de-dee! Your own you mean. I know what men +are. If she was an ugly slut you wouldn't take no notice of her. Don't +talk rubbish. What are you a going to give me for saying, yes. That's +business, mister. Come, how much?" + +The poet saw there was no other way but talking business. This +embarrassed him still more for he was the last man qualified to act in +such a capacity. + +"I'll see what I can do," said he nervously, "but you mustn't forget +that Lavinia will have to be quite two years at school, and there is her +music master----" + +"Oh I dare say," rejoined the lady scoffingly, "and the mantle maker, +and the milliner, and the glover, and the hairdresser. That's your +affair, not mine. Name a round sum and I'll try to meet you. What d'ye +say?" + +"Would five guineas----?" + +"What!" shrieked Lavinia's mother. "And you call yourself a gentleman?" + +"The sum I admit is a small one, but as you seemed anxious to get your +daughter off your hands I thought I was doing you a service by putting +the girl in a way to earn a good living." + +"I dare say. I'm not to be taken in like that. Fine words butter no +parsnips. While Lavinia's in the house I'll go bail I'll make her work. +If she goes away I've got to pay someone in her place, haven't I? Twenty +guineas is the very lowest I'll take, and if you was anything like the +gentleman you look you'd make it double." + +The haggling over such a matter and the coarse mercenary nature of the +woman jarred upon the poet's sensitive soul. The plain fact that he +hadn't got twenty guineas in the world could not be gainsaid. But he had +rich friends. If he could only interest them in this protegee of his +something might be done. And there were the "Fables." + +"Twenty guineas," he repeated. "Well, I'll do my best. In two days' +time, Mrs. Fenton, I will come and see you and most likely all will be +settled to your satisfaction." + +"Two days. Aye. No longer or maybe my price'll go up." + +"I shall not fail. Now, Mrs. Fenton, before I go I'd like to see Lavinia +once more." + +"No, this business is between you an' me, mister. The hussy's naught to +do with it. She'll have to behave herself while she's with me. That's +all I have to say about _her_." + +So Gay rose and walked out of the box feeling as though he'd been +through a severe drubbing. He might have been sufficiently disheartened +to shatter his castle in the air had he not seen Lavinia's big sorrowful +eyes fixed upon him from the kitchen. He dared not disobey her mother's +behest not to speak to her so he tried to smile encouragingly, and to +intimate by his expression that all was going well. Whether he succeeded +in so doing he was by no means sure. + +On leaving the coffee house Gay walked towards Charing Cross and thence +along the Haymarket to Piccadilly. His destination was Queensberry House +to the north of Burlington Gardens. Here lived Gay's good friends the +Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, and indeed Gay himself, save when he +was at Twickenham with Pope. + +At dinner that evening Gay broached the subject of the phenomenal singer +whom he had discovered in the streets of St. Giles and his scheme +concerning her. The duke laughed at the poet's visions, but the duchess +was fascinated. Anything of the unusual at once appealed to the +warmhearted, impulsive, somewhat eccentric, lady. Her enthusiasm where +she was interested always carried her away, and her impatience and +energy would not let her rest until her object was accomplished. + +"I would vastly like to hear Mr. Gay's pretty nightingale. You must +bring her to-morrow. I am dying to see if she is really the wonder you +pretend she is. You know that the best judge of a woman is another +woman. A man is apt to be partial." + +"And a woman to be prejudiced," said Gay smilingly. + +"Faith, Kitty," laughed the duke, "our poet has thee there." + +"I deny it. But we will discuss the question after we've seen the +paragon. When shall she come?" + +Gay for once was shrewd. + +"Not until we've settled with the mother. She's a harpy. If she knows +that your grace has anything to do with the affair she'll double her +price." + +"Why, our Gay is teaching us something," said the Duke banteringly. "He +is giving us a lesson in financial economy. Duchess, you must keep your +eye on the next post vacant in the Exchequer." + +"Pish!" retorted her grace. "Mr. Gay is only exercising commonsense. We +all of us have a little of that commodity. If we could only have it +handy when it's wanted how much better the world would be." + +Neither of the men disputed the lady's proposition, and the duchess +rising, left them to their wine. + +Armed with the twenty guineas, Gay presented himself the following day +at the Bedfordbury coffee house. Mrs. Fenton was still ungracious, but +the sight of the little pile of gold and the chink of the coins +mollified her humour. + +"Where and when are you going to take her?" she demanded. + +Gay had arranged a plan with the duchess and he replied promptly. + +"She will stay here for a few days while her wardrobe is being got +ready, then she is to go to Miss Pinwell's boarding school in Queen +Square." + +"Carry me out and bury me decent," ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "Then I'm to +be the mother of a fine lady, am I?" + +"I don't say that, but a clever one if I'm not mistaken." + +"Clever! Oh la! Much good will her cleverness do her. Clever! Aye in +always having a crowd o' sparks a dangling after her. That Miss +What's-her-name in Queen Square'll have to get up early to best Lavinia +when there's a man about." + +"A mother shouldn't say such ill-natured things of her own child," said +Gay reprovingly. "She's hardly a woman yet." + +"But she knows as much. Well, you've got your bargain. Make your best of +it. What about her clothes? She's but a rag-bag though it's no fault o' +mine. Pray who's going to buy her gowns, her hats, her petticoats, her +laces and frills. You?" + +"I? Bless me! no, woman. I know nothing about such things," rejoined Gay +colouring slightly. "I will send a woman who understands the business." + +"It's all one to me. Maybe you'd better tell your tale to Lavinia with +your own lips. I've done with her." + +"By all means. I should like to see her." + +Mrs. Fenton, whose eyes all the while had been gloating over the gold on +the table now swept it into her pocket. It was a windfall which had come +at the right moment. She was tired of Bedfordbury. She aimed at a step +higher. There was a coffee house business in the Old Bailey going cheap, +the twenty pounds would enable her to buy it. + +As for her daughter, she had no scruple about letting her go with a man +who was quite a stranger. The girl's future didn't trouble her. Since +Lavinia had entered her teens, mother and daughter had wrangled +incessantly. Lavinia was amiable enough, but constant snubbing had +roused a spirit which guided her according to her moods. Sometimes she +was full of defiance, at others she would run out of the house, and +ramble about the streets until she was dead tired. + +Lavinia was shrewd enough to discover why her mother did not want her at +home. Mrs. Fenton, still good-looking, was not averse to flirting with +the more presentable of her customers, and as Lavinia developed into +womanhood she became a serious rival to her mother, so on the whole, +Gay's proposition suited Mrs. Fenton admirably, and she certainly never +bothered to find out if he spoke the truth. She was not inclined to +accept his story of the boarding school as a stepping-stone to the +stage, but to pretend to believe it in a way quieted what little +conscience she possessed. If the scheme turned out badly, why, no one +could say _she_ was to blame. + +Lavinia, tremulous with excitement and looking prettier than ever, came +into the room where the poet was awaiting her. Her face fell when Gay +talked about the boarding school and of the possibility of her having to +remain there a long time, but she brightened up on his going on to say +that the period might be considerably shortened if she made a rapid +improvement. + +"And do you really think, sir, I shall ever be good enough to act in a +theatre like Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Oldfield, and--oh, and Mrs. +Bracegurdle?" cried the girl, her eyes blazing with anxious ambition. + +"I don't say you'll act like them. You'll act in your own way, and if +you work hard your own way will be good enough. If you succeed the +friends who are now helping you will be more than rewarded." + +"Ah, I will do anything to please you, sir." + +She caught his hand and impulsively raised it to her lips. + +Gay was a little embarrassed at this outburst. Did it mean that the girl +had fallen in love with him? He checked the rising thought. Yet there +was nothing outrageous in such a possibility. Lavinia was only sixteen, +it is true, and romantic sixteen might see nothing incongruous in +thirty-seven, which was Gay's age. + +"What pleases me, child, doesn't matter," he returned hastily. "I want +to see you please others--in the play house I mean." + +She looked at him wistfully. + +"But," he continued, "it will be time enough to talk of that when I see +how you get on. Now is it all settled? You're leaving this place and +your mother of your own free will--isn't that so?" + +Lavinia said nothing, but pinched her lips and nodded her head +vigorously. The action was sufficiently expressive and Gay was +satisfied. + +Three days went by. Her Grace of Queensberry's maid, a hard-faced +Scotswoman who was not to be intimidated nor betrayed into confidences, +superintended Lavinia's shopping and turned a deaf ear to Mrs. Fenton's +scoffs and innuendoes. + +The girl was transformed. Her new gowns, hats, aprons, and what not sent +her into high spirits and she bade her mother adieu with a light heart. + +"Go your own way, you ungrateful minx," was Mrs. Fenton's parting shot, +"and when you're tired of your fine gentleman or he's tired of you, +don't think you're coming back here 'cause I won't have you." + +Lavinia smiled triumphantly and tripped into the hackney coach that was +awaiting her. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"OH, MISTRESS MINE, WHERE ART THOU ROAMING?" + + +"Lavina! Have done!" + +It was a whispered entreaty. The victim of the feather of a quill pen +tickling her neck dared not raise her voice. Miss Pinwell, the +proprietress of the extremely genteel seminary for young ladies, Queen +Square--quite an aristocratic retreat some two hundred years ago--was +pacing the school-room. Her cold, sharp eyes roamed over the shapely +heads--black, golden, brown, auburn, flaxen--of some thirty girls--eager +to detect any sign of levity and prompt to inflict summary punishment. + +"Miss Fenton, why are you not working?" came the inquiry sharply from +Miss Pinwell's thin lips. + +Lavinia Fenton withdrew the instrument of torture and Priscilla +Coupland's neck was left in peace. It was done so swiftly that Miss +Pinwell's glance, keen as it was, never detected the movement. But the +lady had her suspicions nevertheless, and she marched with the erectness +of a grenadier to where Lavinia Fenton sat with her eyes fixed upon her +copy book, apparently absorbed in inscribing over and over again the +moral maxim at the top of the page, and, it may be hoped, engrafting it +on her mind. + +The young lady's industry did not deceive Miss Pinwell. Lavinia Fenton +was the black sheep--lamb perhaps is a more fitting word, she was but +seventeen--of the school. But somehow her peccadilloes were always +forgiven. She had a smile against which severity--even Miss +Pinwell's--was powerless. + +"What were you doing just now when you were not writing?" + +The head was slowly raised. The wealth of wavy brown hair fell back from +the broad smooth brow. The large limpid imploring eyes looked straight, +without a trace of guilt in them, at the thin-faced schoolmistress. The +beautiful mouth, the upper lip of which with its corners slightly +upturned was delightfully suggestive of a smile, quivered slightly but +not with fear, rather with suppressed amusement. + +"Nothing madam," was the demure reply. + +"Nothing? I don't believe you. Your hand was not on your book. Where was +it?" + +"Oh, _that_. Yes, a wasp was flying near us. I thought it was going to +settle on Priscilla Coupland's neck and I brushed it away with my pen." + +Miss Pinwell could say nothing to this, especially as she distinctly +heard at that moment the hum of some winged insect. It _was_ a wasp, a +real one, not the insect of Lavinia's fervid imagination. The windows +were open and it had found its way in from Lamb's Conduit Fields, at a +happy moment allying itself with Lavinia. + +Others heard it as well and sprang to their feet shrieking. The chance +of escaping from tiresome moral maxims was too good to be lost. + +"Young ladies----" commanded Miss Pinwell, but she could get no further. +Her voice was lost in the din. The lady no more loved wasps than did her +pupils. She retreated as the wasp advanced. The intruder ranged itself +on the side of the girls and circled towards their instructress with +malevolence in every turn and vicious intent in its buzz. + +The only one not afraid was Lavinia Fenton who, waving a pocket +handkerchief met the foe bravely but without success. The enemy refused +to turn tail. Other girls plucking up courage joined the champion and +soon the school-room was in a hubbub. Probably the army of hoydenish +maidens were not anxious the conflict should cease--it was far more +entertaining than maxims, arithmetic and working texts on samples--and +Miss Pinwell seeing this, summoned Bridget, the brawny housemaid, who +with a canvas apron finally caught and squashed the rash intruder. + +It was sometime before the excitement died down, and meanwhile Lavinia +Fenton's remissness of conduct was forgotten--indeed her intrepidity +singled her out for praise, which she received with becoming +graciousness. + +But before the day was out she relapsed into her bad ways. She could or +would do nothing right. Miss Pinwell chided her for carelessness, she +retorted saucily. As discipline had to be maintained she was at last +condemned to an hour with the backboard and there she sat in a corner of +the room on a high legged chair with a small and extremely uncomfortable +oval seat made still more uncomfortable by it sloping slightly forward. +As for the back, it was high and narrow. It afforded no rest for the +spine. The delinquent was compelled to sit perfectly upright. Thus it +was at the same time an instrument of correction and of deportment. + +Whatever bodily defects the early Georgian damsels possessed they +certainly had straight backs and level shoulders. The backboard was +admirable training for the carriage of the stately sacque, the graceful +flirting of the fan and for the dancing of the grave and dignified +minuet. + +The day was nearing its end. The hour for retiring was early, and at +dusk the head of each bedroom took her candle from the hall table and +after a low curtsy to the mistress of the establishment preceded those +who slept in the same room up the broad staircase. The maidens' +behaviour was highly decorous until they were safe in their respective +bed-chambers, when their tongues were unloosed. + +Oddly enough Lavinia, who was usually full of chatter, had to-night +little to say. Her schoolmates rallied her on her silent tongue. + +"Oh, don't bother me, Priscilla," she exclaimed pettishly. "I suppose I +can do as I like when Miss Pinwell isn't looking." + +"My dear, you generally do that when she _is_. I never saw such +favouritism. I declare it's not fair. You were terribly tormenting all +day. Anybody but you would have been sent to bed and kept on bread and +water. What's the matter with you, miss?" + +"Nothing. I'm tired, that's all." + +"First time in your life then. You were lively enough this afternoon +when you nearly got me into a scrape trying to make me laugh with your +tickling. It was as much as I could do to keep from screaming," +exclaimed Priscilla angrily. + +"Well, you can do your screaming now if it pleases you, so long as it +doesn't bring Miss Pinwell upstairs. Let me alone. I'm thinking about +something." + +"Some _one_, my dear, you mean," put in a tall fair girl, Grace Armitage +by name. "Confess now, isn't it the new curate at St. George's? He +seemed to have no eyes for any one but you last Sunday evening. How +cruel to disturb the poor man's thoughts." + +"Console yourself, Grace dear--_you're_ never likely to do that." + +The girls tittered at Lavinia's repartee. All knew that Grace Armitage +was the vainest of the vain and believed every man who cast his eyes in +her direction was in love with her. She went white with anger. But she +was slow witted. She had no sarcastic rejoinder ready and if she had it +was doubtful if she would have uttered it. Lavinia Fenton, the soul of +sweetness and amiability, could show resolute fight when roused. Miss +Armitage turned away with a disdainful toss of her head. + +The others knew this too, for they ceased to irritate Lavinia and +continued their talk among themselves. All the same, the principal +topic was Lavinia Fenton. She was so strangely unlike herself to-night. + +Half an hour later the room was in silence save for the whispering +between the occupants of those beds sufficiently close to each other to +permit this luxury. When the neighbouring clock of St. George's, +Bloomsbury, chimed half-past nine even these subdued sounds had ceased. + +At half-past ten the moon was at the full. The pale light streamed +through the small window panes and threw the shadows of the broad +framework lattice-wise on Lavinia's bed which was next the window. In +daylight she had but to lie on her right side and she could see across +the fields and the rising ground each side of the Fleet river to the +villages of Islington and Hornsey. + +Gradually the latticed shadow crept upwards. It at last reached +Lavinia's face. She was not asleep. Her eyes very wide open were staring +at the ceiling with a vague, wistful expression. She gave a long sigh, +her body twisted, and leaning on her right elbow, her left hand +insinuated itself beneath the pillow and drew forth a letter which she +held in the moonlight and read. Her forehead puckered as though she were +in doubt. Her steadfast eyes seemed to contradict the smile curving her +upper lip. The paper slipped from her limp fingers and she pondered, her +colour deepening the while. Nothing short of a love letter could have +caused that delightful blush. What she read was this:-- + + + "MY DEAREST LITTLE CHARMER,-- + + "My soul is full of expectancy. I can think of nothing but you--the + divinest being that ever tortured the heart of man. But the torture + is exquisite because I know when I fold you in my arms it will + change to bliss. You will keep your promise and meet me at the + 'Conduit Head' to-morrow midnight, will you not? I can scarce + contain myself with thinking of it. If you come not what remains + for me but death? Without you life is worthless. Come. My coach + will be in readiness and the parson waiting for us at the Fleet. + + "When we are married, as I've told you, my family cannot refuse to + receive my wife, but until we are made one they will do all they + can to keep us apart. My father insists upon my marrying a rich + city madam, but I'll none of her. I will only have you, my + beauteous Lavinia. I swear to you by all the gods that you shall be + back at school before dawn, as on the night of the dance when I + first saw my adorable divinity. No one will know but us two. It + will be a delicious secret. After I have seen you safely to Queen + Square and have parted from my dearest--it will be misery to bid + thee adieu--I shall ride post haste to my father and tell him + everything. He will at first be angry, but he will relent when he + sees your loveliness. We shall be forgiven and Heaven will be ours. + + "Panting with impatience, ever your most devoted humble servant, + + ARCHIBALD DORRIMORE." + + +Present taste would pronounce this effusion to be extravagant, +rhapsodical, high-flown, super-sentimental, but it did not read so to +Lavinia. It was in the fashion of the times--indeed it approached nearer +modern ideas than the majority of love letters of that day which +generally began with "Madam" without any endearing prefix. Lavinia liked +it none the less because it was not so formal as the letters which some +girls had shown her in all pride and secrecy. + +But it troubled her all the same. + +"I wonder if I really--really love him," she mused. "I suppose I do or I +shouldn't be continually thinking about him. But to be married--oh, +that's a different thing. Perhaps he'd want to live in the country. +That would be horribly dull, especially if he had to come to London +often. He hopes to be a great lawyer some day he says. I don't think I'd +like him in a wig and gown and white bands. He would look so horribly +old. Oh, but I wouldn't let him have his rooms in the Temple after we're +married. He'll have to burn his musty old books. He won't need them. His +father's very rich. He's told me so hundreds of times." + +A half dozen times would have been nearer the mark and this would +probably represent the number of their meetings, once at a ball at +Sadler's Wells Gardens and afterwards at stolen opportunities which the +ingenious Lavinia contrived to bring about. + +To tell the honest truth, Lavinia's gallant Archibald Dorrimore, the +young Templar, served only to amuse the young lady. She was not blind to +the fact that he was a fop and not blessed with too much brain. She had +seen many of his sort before and did not trust them. But Dorrimore +struck her as more sincere than the rest. Besides, he was very good +looking. + +Lavinia couldn't help having admirers. Nature should not have endowed +her with such alluring, innocent looking eyes, with so sweet a mouth. +She had always had some infatuated young man hovering about her even +when she was her mother's drudge at the coffee house in Bedfordbury. +Perhaps she inherited flirting from that buxom, good-looking mother who +had the reputation of knowing her way quite well where a man was +concerned. + +"Archibald Dorrimore will be _Sir_ Archibald some day," she mused. "It +would be rare to be called her ladyship. I can hear the footman saying: +'Your coach is waiting, my lady.' Lady Dorrimore--how well it sounds! +Archibald loves me...." + +May be this conviction settled the matter. The girl slid out of bed and +dressed herself hurriedly, though eleven o'clock had only just struck +and she had plenty of time. Perhaps she thought that if she hesitated +any longer she might alter her mind and not be married after all. + +Despite her haste she was not neglectful of herself. Now and again she +glanced at the little mirror over which the girls squabbled daily, +smoothed her rebellious hair and settled the Nithsdale hood of her cloak +coquettishly. Then she noiselessly crept from the room, flitted down the +staircase and was at the hall door shooting back its heavy +bolts--fortunately always kept well greased--and lifting the massive +chain which stretched across the centre. Street doors were well guarded +and ground floor windows barred in those days, and not without reason. + +The moon was still shining brightly and Lavinia drew her hood closer +over her face, though there was little need, for the fields were +deserted. She turned to the east, keeping in the shadow, slight as it +was, of the school garden wall. When the "Conduit Head" at the top of +Red Lion Street (the northern end now known as Lamb's Conduit Street) +was reached she paused and her heart went pit-a-pat. If Dorrimore should +not be there! + +She stopped, overcome by sudden scruples. In a flash her life at the +school, its monotony and discipline, the irksomeness of regular work, +rose before her! She had been some months at Miss Pinwell's +establishment and her restless soul pined for a change. Though she +looked back to her vagabond life in the streets with a shudder, she +yearned for its freedom, but without its degradations. + +The step she was about to take, so she persuaded herself, meant freedom, +but it also meant ingratitude towards Gay and the duchess. For the +latter's opinion she did not care much. The imperious manner of her +grace was not to her taste. But Mr. Gay--that was a different thing. She +looked upon Gay as a father--of her own father she had but a shadowy +recollection--though sometimes she thought she detected in him signs of +a warmer affection than that which a father usually bestows on a +daughter. She did not want this. She liked his visits. She was glad to +have his praise. She laughed when he persisted in calling her Polly--why +she knew not--but she was sure she could never endure his making love to +her. + +In her heart of hearts she was afraid of this. The dread had much to do +with her encouragement of Dorrimore. Of course if she married it would +mean an estrangement between her and Gay and his powerful friends, and +most likely the end of her ambition to be a great actress. Her mind had +long been torn, and at the eleventh hour when she was on her way to meet +her fate in Dorrimore she still hesitated. If she really loved Dorrimore +there would have been no hesitation. But she had never met any man who +did more than flatter her and gratify the pleasure she felt at being +admired. + +Her decision was in the balance. The weight of a feather would turn the +scale one way or another. The feather came in the shape of Dorrimore +himself. There he was in three cornered hat and cloak, his powdered wig +white in the moonlight, pacing up and down, his hand resting on his +sword hilt. He caught sight of the shrinking figure in the shadow and +the hat was doffed in a profound bow. Undoubtedly a good looking young +man, but as undoubtedly a fop of the first water with his ruffles and +bosom of Mechlin lace, red heels to his shoes, gold clocks on his silk +stockings and the whiff of scent which heralded his coming. + +When near enough his arm went round her and he drew back her hood. He +kissed her closely, so closely indeed that his ardour almost frightened +her, though she knew not why. He withdrew his lips and gazed into her +face, his own paling under the violence of his passion. + +"Dearest Lavinia," he murmured. "You are the loveliest creature in the +world and I protest I am the luckiest of men. Have you no words of love +for me? Why so silent?" + +She had not uttered a word. The rise and fall of her bosom showed her +agitation. + +"I'm here. I'm here. Isn't that enough?" she faltered. + +"Faith you're right, sweetheart. Then let us waste no time. My coach is +yonder." + +He slid her arm within his and drew her forward. He was not unconscious +of a certain reluctance in her movements and a shyness in her manner, +but he put both down to maiden modesty. Her restraint made her all the +more enchanting and he quickened his pace. She was compelled to +accommodate her steps to his, but she did so unwillingly. A sudden +distrust whether of him or of herself she could not quite determine--had +seized her. She was repenting her rashness. She would have run from him +back to the school but that he held her too tightly. Within another +minute they had reached the heavy lumbering coach. + +The coachman had seen them coming and descended from his box to open the +door. He was a big fellow who held himself erect like a soldier. His +swarthy complexion had a patch of purplish bloom spreading itself over +the cheek bones which told of constant tavern lounging. A pair of hawk's +eyes gleamed from under bushy beetling brows; wide loose lips and a +truculent, pugnacious lower jaw completed the picture of a ruffian. + +Lavinia glanced at him and that glance was enough, it deepened her +distrust into repugnance. But she had no time to protest. She was +hurried into the coach, Dorrimore in fact lifting her inside bodily with +unnecessary violence for she was almost thrown into a corner of the back +seat. Dorrimore followed, turned, shut the door and almost immediately +the carriage moved. The coachman must have sprung to his box with the +quickness of a harlequin. The whip cracked and the horses broke into a +gallop. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"IF WE'RE NOT TO BE MARRIED TELL ME" + + +The rattle of the wheels over the loose, roughly laid cobble stones, and +the swaying carriage hung on leathers, forbade talking. Lavinia heard +her companion's voice but she did not know what he was saying. Not that +it mattered for she was in too much of a flutter to heed anything but +her own emotions, and these were so confused that they told her little. + +Then Dorrimore's arm stole round her waist. Well, this was not +unnatural. Would they not be soon man and wife? The puzzle was that she +had no feeling of response. She would rather that he did not embrace +her. She did not want to be noticed. Yet she could not find it in her +heart to be unkind, so she allowed him to draw her nearer, to let her +head droop on his shoulder. She tried to think it was pleasant to be so +loved and she lowered her eyelashes when he kissed her again and again. + +Two or three minutes of oblivion. The coach had raced down Red Lion +Street. It was in Holborn going eastwards and here the din and clatter +were heightened by the shouts of drunken roisterers. The overhanging +houses cast deep shadows and the coach was travelling in the gloom. It +was past midnight and the lamps hung at every tenth house were +extinguished. This was the rule. + +Then Lavinia became conscious that the carriage was going down hill. It +had passed Fetter Lane into which it should have turned and was +proceeding towards Holborn Bridge. Why was this? Fetter Lane led into +Fleet Street and so to the Fleet. Had the coachman misunderstood his +instructions? She wrenched herself free and looked out of the window. +She recognised St. Andrew's Church in Holborn Valley. She turned +swiftly and faced Dorrimore. The coach had crossed the bridge and had +commenced the steep ascent of Holborn Hill on the other side. The horses +had slackened their pace. The noise was less loud. + +"You said we were going to the Fleet, but we're not. Where are you +taking me?" + +"Don't trouble about such a trifle, darling little one," he cried gaily. +"Aren't you with me? What more do you want? Come, kiss me. Let us forget +everything but our two selves." + +He would have embraced her but she repulsed him angrily. + +"No. If you've altered your mind--if we're not to be married tell me so, +and I'll leave you to yourself," she cried agitatedly. + +"Leave me? And d'you think I'll let you go when you're looking handsomer +than ever? Faith, what d'you take me for? You dear fluttering little +Venus. Why, you're trembling? But hang me, it must be with joy as I am." + +Both his arms were round her. She struggled to free herself; pushed his +face away and panting, strove to reach the window, but he was strong and +prevented her. + +"I'll go no further with you," she cried. "Set me down at once or I'll +scream for help." + +"You pretty little fool. Much help you'll get here. Oh, you shall look +if you want to, but your wings must be clipped first." + +He gripped both her wrists and held them fast. Her frightened eyes +glanced through the window. She heard a confused thud of hoofs, now and +again the deep bellowing of cattle, in the distance dogs barking, +drivers yelling. She could see horned heads moving up and down. The +coach was now moving very slowly. It was surrounded by a drove of +bullocks from the Essex marshes going to Smithfield. + +"You see?" laughed Dorrimore. "D'you suppose I would set you down to be +tossed and gored by vulgar cattle. Why the sight of your red ribands +would send them mad, as it's nearly sent me." + +"I don't care. I'd rather be with them than with you. I hate you," she +screamed with tears in her voice. + +"Really? I'll warrant your hate'll turn to love before we part," he +jeered. "I'm not going to see you come to harm, so I shall hold your +pretty wrists tightly. How round and slender they are! So, you're my +prisoner." + +"I'm not and I won't be." + +Somehow she dragged her right wrist away and dealt him a smart blow on +his cheek. + +"You would fight, would you? What a little spitfire it is! No matter. I +love you all the better. For every smart you give me you shall be repaid +with a dozen kisses. If that isn't returning good for evil may I never +handle a dice box again. There, do as you like. Lay your white hand +again on my face. The bigger debt you run up the better." + +Despite his banter he was very savage and he flung her hands from him. +She at once laid hold of the strap to open the window. He burst into a +loud laugh. + +"So the bird would escape," said he mockingly. "I thought as much." + +She tugged at the strap but tugged in vain. The window refused to budge. +Then it flashed across her mind that it was all part of a plan. She was +to be trapped. The story of a Fleet marriage was a concoction to bait +the trap. She flung herself in the corner, turned her back upon her +captor and pulled her hood over her face. + +She knew that for the time being she was helpless. What was the good of +wasting her strength in struggles, her spirit in remonstrance and be +laughed at for her pains? So she sat sullenly and turned a deaf ear to +Dorrimore's triumphant endearments. + +That wrestle with the window strap had done one thing. It had told her +where she was. Lavinia knew her London well. Her rambles as a child had +not been confined to Charing Cross and St. Giles. She had often wandered +down to London Bridge. She loved the bustling life on the river; she +delighted in gazing into the shop windows of the quaint houses on the +bridge which to her youthful imagination seemed to be nodding at each +other, for so close were some that their projecting upper storeys nearly +touched. + +She decided in that confused glance of hers through the window that the +coach was nearing the extreme end of the Poultry. She recognised the +Poultry Compter with its grim entrance and wondered whether the coach +would go straight on to Cornhill and then turn northward towards +Finsbury Fields, or southward to London Bridge. + +For the moment all she thought of was her destination, and when she was +able without attracting her companion's, attention again to peep out of +the window she saw the coach was at the foot of London Bridge. The +driver had been compelled to walk his horses, so narrow and so dark was +the passage way. + +The nightbirds of London were on their rambles looking out for prey; the +bridge was thronged. The people for the most part were half drunk--they +were the scourings from the low taverns in the Southwark Mint. Lavinia +had been revolving a plan of escape, but to launch herself among an +unruly mob ready for any devilry might be worse than remaining where she +was. But in spite of all that she did not cease to think about her plan +and watched for an opportunity when the worst of the rabble should have +passed. + +Suddenly the coach came to a standstill. Shouts and oaths--more of the +latter than the former--were heard, and Dorrimore after fretting and +fuming lowered the window on his side and put out his head. + +"What the devil's hindering you?" he demanded angrily, of the coachman. + +"That monstrously clumsy waggon; the stubborn knave of a waggoner has +gotten the middle of the road and there he sticks. He'll draw neither to +the left or the right. I've a mind to get down and baste the surly +bumpkin's hide." + +"Don't be a fool. Keep where you are. We must wait. Speak him fair." + +Two things struck Lavinia. One was the open window. Evidently Dorrimore +had thought it only necessary to secure one window--that on the side +where she was sitting. If she were on the opposite side how easy to slip +her hand through the opening and turn the handle of the door. But this +was impossible. She could not hope to succeed. + +The other thing which fixed itself in her mind was the familiar tone of +the coachman towards Dorrimore. It was more that of an equal than of a +menial. This impression confirmed her suspicion that she was trapped. +Dorrimore had doubtless enlisted the services of a confidential friend +rather than trust to a servant whose blabbing tongue might serve to +betray him. + +Meanwhile Dorrimore's head was still out of the window. He was calling +to the waggoner and offering him a crown to pull his horses and load to +one side, but it was no easy task to move the gigantic lumbering wain +with its tilt as big as a haystack and its wheels a foot thick. Lavinia +had her eyes fixed at the window on her side, intent on watching a +little group of persons who were curious to see the result of the +deadlock. They were quietly disposed apparently. + +Swiftly she bent down, slipped off one of her high heeled shoes and +straightened her body. The next moment there was the crash of broken +glass. She had struck the window with the heel of her shoe and had +thrust her hand through the jagged hole, turned the handle, opened the +door and had jumped out. Dorrimore, intent upon parleying with the +waggoner, had either not heard the smash or had attributed the cause to +anything but the real one. + +The group were startled by the flying figure. In her haste and agitation +she had stumbled on alighting and would have fallen but for a man who +caught her. + +"S'death madam, are you hurt?" she heard him say. + +"No, no. For Heaven's sake don't stay me. I'm in great danger. I'm +running from an enemy. Oh, let me go--let me go!" + +"But you're wounded. See." + +Blood was on her arm. A drop or two had fallen on the man's ruffles. She +had cut herself in her wild thrust through the jagged hole in the door. + +"It's nothing," she breathed. "Oh, if you've any pity don't keep me." + +The man made no reply. He whipped out his handkerchief, tied it round +the cut and holding her arm tightly, forced a way through the crowd +towards the Southwark side of the bridge. + +He might have got her away unobserved had it not been for Dorrimore's +coachman. The fellow uttered a yell and leaving his horses to take care +of themselves leaped from the box. + +"A guinea to any one who stops that woman," he shouted. + +Lavinia and her companion had nearly reached the obstructive waggon. A +dozen persons or so were between them and the yelling coachman. If they +succeeded in passing the waggon there might be a chance of escaping in +the darkness. But the onlookers crowding between the obstruction and the +shops--there were in those days no pavements--were too much interested +in what was going on to move, and the two found themselves wedged in a +greasy, ragged mob. + +Then came a rush from behind by those eager to earn a guinea and things +became worse. The girl, helped by the young man--she had seen enough of +him to know that he was both young and good-looking--urged her way +through the crowd, and those in front, seeing she looked like a +gentlewoman and knowing nothing of the guinea offered for her capture +stood back and she passed through. At that moment she felt her +companion's grasp relax. Then his fingers slipped from her arm. Some one +had struck him. + +"Run to the stairs and take a boat," he whispered. "Perhaps you haven't +any money. Here's my purse," and he pushed it into her hand. + +"No, I won't have it," she faltered. + +"You must. Quick! Fly!" + +"But what of you?" + +"I shall stay here, face the mob and give you time to get away." + +She would have refused. She would have remained with her champion, but +the swaying mob ordered otherwise. She found herself separated from him +and carried onward whether she would or not. She was terribly frightened +and knew not what to do. Hoarse shouts pursued her; she heard the sound +of blows. Somehow no one seemed to notice her. Probably the fighting was +more to their taste. Suddenly she found herself alone. The archway +called the Traitors' Gate which then formed the entrance to the bridge +from the Surrey side was behind her. Crowds were pouring through the +Gate eager to see what the rumpus was about or to take part in it on the +chance of plunder, and they did not heed the shrinking figure in the +deep doorway of a house close to the bridge. + +Lavinia was torn with anxiety. The young man whose purse she was holding +tightly--how was he faring? She could not help him by staying. Dorrimore +and Dorrimore's coachman with the guinea he had offered for her capture +had to be thought of. Her danger was by no means over. The roadway was +comparatively clear. Now was her chance if she was ever to have one. +She stole from the doorway; the stairs leading to the river were close +at hand and down these she sped. + +The tide was at low ebb. She was standing on the shingle. But she looked +in vain for a waterman. There were plenty of boats on the river, most of +them loaded with merry parties returning from Spring Gardens, Vauxhall, +and no boats were plying for hire. She dared not ascend to the Borough. +Bullies and thieves abounded in the southern approaches to the bridge. +She crept down to one of the abutments of the bridge and tremulously +listened to the turmoil going on above. + +Meanwhile the man who had come to her rescue was being hardly pressed. +He was surrounded by a mob led by Dorrimore's coachman. It was not the +leader who had struck the blow which made him lose his hold of Lavinia's +arm, but one of the mob for no motive other than a love for brutality. +The coachman had forced his way to the front a minute or so afterwards. +Almost at the same time a stone hit Lavinia's champion in the cheek, +cutting it and drawing blood. + +"Cowards!" he shouted. "If you're for fighting at least fight fair. Who +did that?" and he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. + +"At your service, sir. Give me the credit of it. Captain Jeremy Rofflash +isn't the man to let the chance of a little pretty sword play go by." + +The speaker was the man who acted as Dorrimore's coachman. He was every +inch a braggadocio. There were many such who had been with Marlborough +and had returned to their native country to earn their living by their +wits and by hiring out their swords. + +The fellow who called himself Jeremy Rofflash had not time to draw his +sword; the fist of the man he had thought to frighten had shot out swift +as an arrow, catching him between the eyes and tumbling him backwards. + +At the sight of the young gallant's spirit a number of the mob +instantly ranged themselves on his side. Others came on like infuriated +animals on the off chance of Captain Jeremy Rofflash rewarding them for +their services. + +"You'd better show these ruffians a clean pair of heels," whispered a +friendly voice in the young man's ear. "To Winchester Stairs--now's your +chance before yonder bully's on his feet." + +It was good advice and Lancelot Vane, the young man, budding poet and +playwright, who had found himself involved in a dangerous squabble, +which might mean his death, over a girl whom he had only seen for a few +minutes, had the sense to take it. But it was no easy task to extricate +himself. A burly ruffian was approaching him with arm uplifted and +whirling a bludgeon. Vane caught the fellow a blow in the waist and he +immediately collapsed. Before the prostrate man could get his wind, Vane +darted through the Traitors' Gate and racing towards the Borough with a +score or so of the rabble after him, darted into the first opening he +came to. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"MANY A MAN WOULD GIVE A HANDFUL OF GUINEAS FOR A KISS FROM SALLY +SALISBURY" + + +The fugitive found himself in a narrow ill-smelling, vilely paved alley +to the east of the Borough. Tall, ugly, dirty houses bordered it on each +side, a thick greasy mud covered the uneven stones. Dimly he was +conscious of the sound of a window being opened here and there, of +hoarse shouts and shrill screams, of shadowy beings who doubtless were +men and women but who were more like ghosts than creatures of flesh and +blood. + +But no one molested him. This might be explained by the fact that those +who saw him running took him to be some criminal fleeing from justice to +take sanctuary in the Southwark slums, an impression quite sufficient to +ensure their sympathy. At least, this was what at first happened. +Afterwards the mob took it into their heads to pursue him and for no +particular reason save devilry. + +The seething crowd poured into the narrow alley. Like a hunted deer the +young man ran up one court and down another, stumbling now and again +half from exhaustion and half from the greasy mud covered stones. He +could hear his pursuers coming nearer and nearer, but his strength was +gone. He dragged himself a few steps further and staggered into a +doorway, sinking on the steps in an almost fainting condition. + +The next moment the door behind him opened, a hand gripped his shoulder +and a woman's voice whispered:-- + +"Come inside. Make haste before you're seen." + +The young man raised his head. He was dimly conscious of a handsome +face, of a pair of bold eyes staring into his. + +"Come. Why are you waiting? Do you want to be murdered?" she cried +imperiously. + +He struggled to his feet and she dragged him into the passage and closed +the door. Scarcely had she done so when the clatter of feet and a +confused sound of voices told that his pursuers were approaching. Had +they tracked him to the house? The point was at once settled by a loud +hammering at the door. + +The woman half turned her head and cast a scornful look over her +shoulder. + +"Knock away, you devils. You won't break those panels in a hurry. For +all that, the place isn't safe for you, Mr. Vane." + +"What, you know me?" + +She laughed. Her laughter was loud rather than musical. + +"Haven't I seen you with many a merry party at Spring Gardens? Don't you +remember that mad night when one of your friends was full of wine? +Didn't I cut off the end of his periwig and throw it to the mob to be +scrambled for?" + +Lancelot Vane's pale face flushed slightly. He hadn't a very precise +recollection of what had happened on that night of frolic and revelry. +Like the rest he had had his bottle or two. The full blooded handsome +woman whom nothing abashed, who could take her liquor like a man, whose +beauty fired the souls of the gallants hovering about her wrangling for +her smiles, was part of the confused picture that had remained in his +memory. He had some vague remembrance of having kissed her or that she +had kissed him--it didn't matter which it was, nothing mattered very +much when the wine was in and the wit was out. + +Yet now when both were sober and her round, plump arm was round his +shoulders on the plea of supporting him he felt embarrassed, ashamed. + +"I thank you, madam, for your help," he said hurriedly. "But I won't +bring trouble upon you. Those rascals are still clamouring for my +blood--why I know not--and if they once burst into the house you'll +suffer." + +"They won't frighten me, but I wouldn't have you come to harm. There's a +way of escape. I'll show it you." + +With her arm still round him though there was no necessity for his +strength was gradually returning, she led him up the first flight--some +half dozen steps--of a narrow staircase to a small window which she +threw open. + +"That's the Black Ditch. It leads to the river and is fairly dry now +that the tide is out. You can easily find your way to Tooley Street." + +"Thanks--thanks," he murmured. + +He clambered on to the window sill and gradually lowered himself. While +his head, slightly thrown back, was above the sill she bent down swiftly +and kissed him full on the lips. + +"Many a man would give a handful of guineas for a kiss from Sally +Salisbury. You shall have one for nothing. It mayn't bring you luck, but +what of that?" + +He let go his hold, alighted safely on his feet and ran along the ditch, +every nerve quivering in a tumult of emotion, and with Sally Salisbury's +strident, reckless laugh ringing in his ears. + +Sally leaned her elbows on the sill and craning her head watched the +receding figure of the young man. Then she straightened her body and +walked leisurely from the room into one at the front of the house on the +first floor. The hammering at the entrance door had never ceased. She +threw open the window and looked down upon the swaying crowd. + +"What do you want?" she called out. + +"The man you're hiding," was the reply in a hoarse voice. + +"You lie. There's no man here." + +"No man where Mistress Sally Salisbury is? Ho-ho!" + +She knew the voice. It was that of Captain Jeremy Rofflash. + +Seizing a lamp Sally Salisbury ran down the stairs and opened the door. +Holding the lamp high over her head the light fell with striking effect +upon her luxuriant yellow hair clustering down upon a neck and shoulders +that Juno might have envied. The resemblance did not stop here. Juno in +anger could have found her double in Sally Salisbury at that moment. +Evidently the visitor was unwelcome. + +"What does this silly masquerade mean?" she demanded, her eyes roaming +over the coachman's livery in high displeasure. "Have you turned over a +new leaf and gone into honest service?" + +"Honest service be damned! Honesty doesn't belong to me or to you +either, Sally. Where's the man I'm looking for? I twigged the fellow +just as you shut the door upon him." + +"Did you? Then you're welcome to go on looking." + +He strode in, muttering oaths. When the door was closed he turned upon +her. + +"Hang me, Sally, if I know what your game is in sheltering this spark. +Anyhow you wouldn't do it if you didn't see your way to some coin out of +him." + +"I don't, so shut up your sauce." + +"More fool you then. Look here, Sal. I've got hold of a cull or I +shouldn't be in this lackey's coat. The fool's bursting with gold and he +wants someone to help him to spend it. I'll be hanged if there's another +woman in London like you for that fun. Now's your chance. He's sweet on +a wench--a raw boarding school miss--he ran off with her an hour or so +ago. The little fool thought she was going to be married by a Fleet +parson, but somehow she took fright and jumped out of the coach on +London Bridge. How the devil she did it beats me, though to be sure when +one of your sex makes up her mind to anything she'll do it and damme, I +believe Beelzebub helps her. Now then----" + +"What's this gabble to do with me?" broke in Sally, disdainfully. + +"Wait a minute. The wench had a friend in the crowd--a man who got her +away--damn him. I jumped from the coach and we had a set to. See this?" + +Scowling ferociously Rofflash pointed to a lump beneath his eye which +promised to become a beautiful mouse on the morrow. + +"The jackanapes got me on the hop; my foot slipped and s'life, I was +down. But for that I'd ha' spitted him like a partridge. By the time I +was on my legs the mob were after him. I joined in the hue and cry and +we ran him down to your house. Now then, where's his hiding hole? It'll +mean a matter o' twenty guineas in your pocket to give him up." + +"Blood money! I don't earn my living that way. You could have spared +your breath, Rofflash. The man's not here. I'll show you how he escaped. +Come this way." + +Sally led the fellow to the window overlooking the Black Ditch and told +him the story. + +"Are you bamboozling me, you jade?" growled Rofflash. "It would be like +you." + +"I daresay it would if it were worth my while but it isn't. Look for +yourself. Can't you see the deep foot-prints in the mud?" + +The waning moon gave sufficient light to show the black slimy surface of +the ditch. An irregularly shaped hole immediately below the window +showed where Vane had alighted. Footprints distinct enough indicated the +direction taken. + +"If you're not satisfied search the house." + +"I'll take your word. Who's your friend? You wouldn't lift your little +finger to save a stranger." + +"Who's the girl?" Sally parried in a flash. "What's she like?" + +Rofflash had sharp wits. Cunning was part of his trade. + +"Ho ho," he thought. "Sits the wind in that quarter? I'll steer +accordingly." + +"The girl? As tempting as Venus and a good deal livelier, I'll swear. +'Faith, she's one worth fighting for. I'll do her gallant justice. If +he's as handy with his blade as he is with his fists he'll be a pretty +swordsman. He'll need all he knows, though," added Rofflash darkly, +"when I meet him." + +"Yes, when!" echoed Sally sarcastically. "You'll get no help from me." + +"What! Sally Salisbury handing over the man she fancies to another +woman? Is the world coming to an end?" + +Rofflash burst into a jeering laugh. It irritated Sally beyond endurance +as he intended it should. But it did not provoke the reply he hoped for. + +"Mind your own business," she snapped. + +"Why, that's what I'm doing and _my_ business is _yours_. But if you're +fool enough to chuck away a handful of guineas, why do it. All I can say +is that _my_ man would give you anything you like to ask if you'd open +your mouth and tell him where _your_ man is." + +"Then I won't. That's my answer, Jeremy Rofflash. Put it in your pipe +and smoke it." + +Rofflash made her a profound bow and smiled mockingly. + +"Have your own way, mistress. What about this? Something more in your +line, I'll warrant." + +He thrust his hand beneath the upper part of his long flapped waistcoat +and drew out a necklace. The pearls of which it was composed were +suffused with a pinkish tinge, the massive gold clasp gleamed in the +lamplight. Sally's eyes flashed momentarily and then became scornful. + +"I'm not going to be bribed by _that_ either," she cried. + +"Wait till you're asked, my dear. This is my business alone. It has +nought to do with t'other. A week ago these pearls were round the fair +neck of my Lady Wendover. I encountered her in her coach on the Bath +Road near Maidenhead Thicket--my favourite trysting place with foolish +dames who travel with their trinkets and fal-lals. At the sight of my +barkers her ladyship screamed and fainted. This made things as easy as +an old glove. Click! and the necklace was in my pocket and I was +galloping back to Hounslow as if Old Nick himself was behind me." + +"Well, and what have your highway robberies to do with me?" + +"Just this, pretty one. My Lord Wendover's offered L1,000 reward for the +return of her Ladyship's jewels. I dursn't hand 'em about. I've no fancy +for the hangman's rope. But _you_ can get rid of them and no one be the +wiser." + +It was true. Sally had been very useful to Rofflash in disposing of some +of the trophies of his exploits on the Bath Road. The highwayman never +grumbled at whatever commission she chose to take and the arrangement +was to their mutual advantage. + +Sally took the pearls and stroked their smooth surfaces lovingly. + +"It's a shame to part with 'em." + +"Aye, they'd look brave on your neck, sweetheart." + +"No. I'm as loth to travel to Tyburn as you. Every fine woman of quality +knows the Wendover pearls. I'd be marked at the first ridotto or +masquerade I showed my face in. I'll do my best to turn 'em into money." + +"You're a jewel yourself, Sally. That's all I want. Adieu, mistress, and +good luck go with you." + +Rofflash swaggered out and as he made his way to the bridge he pondered +deeply over the mystery of woman. Here was Sally Salisbury, a "flaunting +extravagant quean," always over head and ears in debt, refusing a chance +to put money in her purse just because she had a fancy for a man who +maybe was as poor as a church mouse. Yet, as regarded men generally, +Sally was a daughter of the horseleech! + +"Humph," muttered Rofflash, "so much the better. The end on't is I +pocket Dorrimore's gold and no sharing out. If Sally likes to be a fool +'tis her affair and not mine. I've only got to keep my eye on her. What +a woman like her wants she'll get, even if it costs her her life. Sooner +or later, madam, you'll find your way to the fellow's lodgings, and +it'll go hard if I'm not on the spot too." + +By the time Rofflash was at the bridge the obstructing waggon had been +got out of the way. Dorrimore's coach was drawn to one side and +Dorrimore himself was striding impatiently up and down, occasionally +refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff and indulging in oaths more or +less elegant. + +"Where the devil have you been, Rofflash?" he cried, testily. "And where +the devil's the girl?" + +"She'll be safe in your hands shortly, Mr. Archibald, never fear." + +"What, have you got her?" + +"Not quite, but almost as good. The spark whose arms she jumped into is +her gallant, you may lay your life, and----" + +"By thunder, if that's so I'll--I'll run him through, I will, by God!" + +"Softly--softly. All in good time. By a bit of luck I came across a +friend who knows him and has engaged to run him to earth. It only means +a few guineas and I made free to promise him a purse. Within a week +you'll be face to face with your rival and you'll have your revenge." + +"To the devil with my revenge. It's the girl I want, you blundering +idiot." + +"And it's the girl you shall have, by gad. Can't you see, my good sir, +that when you clap your hands on the fellow you clap your hands on the +girl too?" + +"S'life! Do you mean to say she's with him?" + +"I'd go to a thousand deaths on that." + +"I'll not believe it. The girl's a pretty fool or I shouldn't have made +her sweet on me with so little trouble, but she's not that sort." + +"If she isn't, all I can say is that St. Giles and Drury Lane are the +places where innocent and unsuspecting maids are to be found. Ask Sally +Salisbury." + +"Damn Sally Salisbury," cried the fine gentleman in a fury. "D'ye think +I don't know gold from dross? I'll take my oath no man had touched the +lips of that coy little wench before mine did." + +"By all means keep to that belief, sir. It won't do you no harm. Now if +you'll take my advice you'll let me drive you to Moll King's and you'll +finish the night like a man of mettle and a gentleman." + +Dorrimore was in a morose and sullen mood. He wanted bracing up and he +adopted Rofflash's suggestion. The coach rattled to Mrs. King's +notorious tavern in Covent Garden, where thieves and scoundrels, the +very dregs of London, mingled with their betters; and amid a bestial +uproar, with the assistance of claret and Burgundy, to say nothing of +port "laced" with brandy on the one hand, and gin and porter on the +other, all differences in stations were forgotten and gentlemen and +footpads were on a level--dead drunk. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER + + +A London night in the first quarter of the eighteenth century had very +little rest. Until long past midnight a noisy, lawless, drunken rabble +made the streets hideous. It was quite three o'clock, when as +physiologists tell us the vital forces are at their lowest, before it +could be said that the city was asleep. And that sleep did not last +long. Soon the creaking of market cart and waggon wheels, the shouts of +drovers and waggoners, tramping horses, bellowing cattle and bleating +sheep would dispel the stillness and proclaim the beginning of another +day. + +Business in the approaches to the markets was in full swing before four +o'clock. Carters and waggoners were thirsty and hungry souls and the +eating houses and saloop stalls were thronged. The Old Bailey, from its +nearness to Smithfield was crowded, and the buxom proprietress of +Fenton's coffee house was hard put to it to serve her clamorous +customers and to see that she wasn't cheated or robbed. + +Mrs. Fenton had improved in appearance as well as in circumstances since +she had come from Bedfordbury to the Old Bailey. She was a good-looking +woman of the fleshly type, with a bosom such as Rowlandson loved to +depict. She was high coloured, her eyes were deep blue, full and without +a trace of softness. Her lips were red and well shaped, her teeth white +and even. She was on the shady side of forty, but looked ten years +younger. Her customers admired her and loved to exchange a little coarse +badinage in which the good woman more than held her own. + +There was a Mr. Fenton somewhere in the world, but his wife was quite +indifferent to his existence. He might be in the West Indian plantations +or the hulks for what she cared. She had always gone her own way and +meant to do so to the end of her days. + +Apparently she was not in the best of tempers this morning. A drover who +attempted to jest with her was unmercifully snubbed, and so also was a +master butcher from Marylebone, who as a rule was received with favour. +But the lady was not in an ill temper with everybody--certainly not with +the stolid farmer-like man who was plodding his way through a rumpsteak +washed down by small beer. + +The coffee shop was divided into boxes and the farmer-like man was +seated in one near the door which opened into the kitchen. Mrs. Fenton +had constantly to pass in and out and his seat was conveniently placed +so as to permit her to bestow a smile upon him as she went by or to +exchange a hurried word. + +"The mistress is a bit sweet in that quarter, eh?" whispered a customer +with a jerk of the head and a wink to Hannah the waitress, whom Mrs. +Fenton had brought with her from Bedfordbury. + +"I should just think she was," returned the girl contemptuously. "It +makes one sick. She ought to be a done with sweetheartin'." + +"A woman's never too old for that, my girl, as you'll find when you're +her age. She might do worse. Dobson's got a tidy little purse put by. +There aren't many in the market as does better than him. He's brought up +twenty head o' cattle from his farm at Romford an' he'll sell 'em all +afore night--money down on the nail, mind ye. That'll buy Mistress +Fenton a few fallals if she's a mind for 'em." + +"An' if she's fool enough. Why, he isn't much more than half her years +and she with a grown up daughter too." + +"Aye. May be the gal 'ud be more a match for Dobson than her mother." + +"Don't you let my mistress hear you say that. Why she's that jealous of +Lavinia she could bite the girl's head off. My! Well I never!" + +Hannah started visibly and fixed her eyes on the entrance. + +"What's the matter, wench?" growled the man. + +"I don't believe in ghosts," returned the girl, paling a little and her +hands trembling in a fashion which rather belied her words, "or I'd say +as I'd just seen Miss Lavinia's sperrit look in at the door. If it isn't +her ghost it's her double." + +"Why don't you run outside and settle your mind?" + +"'Cause it's impossible it could be her. The girl's at boarding school." + +"What's that got to do with it? You go and see." + +Hannah hesitated, but at last plucked up her courage and went to the +door. She saw close to the wall some few yards away a somewhat +draggle-tail figure in cloak and hood. Within the hood was Lavinia's +face, though one would hardly recognise it as hers, so white, so drawn, +were the cheeks. + +"Saints alive, surely it isn't you, Miss Lavvy?" cried Hannah, clasping +her hands as she ran to the fugitive. + +"Indeed it is, worse luck. I'm in sad straits, Hannah. I wouldn't have +come here--I know what mother is--but I couldn't think what to do." + +"But good lord--the school--mercy on us child, they haven't turned you +out, have they?" + +"No, but they will if I go back. I dursn't do that. I couldn't get in. +I've been robbed of the key. It was inside my reticule that a rogue +snatched from my wrist on London Bridge." + +"London Bridge! Gracious! What mischief took 'ee there and at this time +o' the mornin'?" + +"I don't know," sighed the girl, half wearily, half pettishly. "I can't +tell you. Don't bother me any more. I'm tired to death. Take me inside +Hannah, or I'll drop. I suppose mother'll be in a fury when she sees me, +but it can't be helped. I don't think I care. It's nothing to do with +her." + +Hannah forebore pestering the girl with more questions and led her to +the open door. The waitress had been with Mrs. Fenton in the squalid +days of six months before at the Bedfordbury coffee shop and she well +knew how Lavinia was constantly getting into a scrape, not from +viciousness, but from pure recklessness and love of excitement. Her +mother's treatment of her "to cure her of her ways," as the lady put it, +was simply brutal. + +Hannah was not a little afraid of what would happen when Mrs. Fenton set +eyes on her wilful daughter. At the same time, Lavinia was not the same +girl who at Bedfordbury used to run wild, half clad and half starved, +and yet never looked like a beggar, so pretty and so attractive was she. +Six months had developed her into a woman and the training of Miss +Pinwell, the pink of gentility, had given her the modish airs of a lady +of quality. True, her appearance just now had little of this "quality," +her walk being in fact somewhat limping and one-sided. But there was +good reason for this defect. She had lost one of her high-heeled shoes, +that with which she had battered the coach window. + +In spite of her protest of not caring, Lavinia's heart went pit-a-pat +when she entered the hot, frowsy, greasy air of the coffee house. +Customers were clamouring to be served and there was no Hannah to wait +upon them. Mrs. Fenton, her eyes flashing fire, was bustling up and down +between the rows of boxes and denouncing the truant waitress in vigorous +Billingsgate. + +Mrs. Fenton had her back turned to the door when Hannah entered with +Lavinia and the two were half way down the gangway before the lady +noticed them. At the sight of her daughter she dropped the dish of eggs +and bacon she was about to deposit in front of a customer and stared +aghast. + +Every eye was turned upon Lavinia who, shaking herself free from +Hannah's friendly support, hastened towards her astonished mother, +anxious to avoid a scene under which in her shattered nerves she might +break down. + +"Devil fetch me," Mrs. Fenton ejaculated before she had recovered from +the shock. "Why, you hussy----" + +Lavinia did not wait to hear more. She brushed past her mother and then +her strength failing her for a moment, she clutched the back of the last +box to steady herself. + +This box was that in which Dobson, the young cattle dealer was seated. +Dobson was human. He fell instantly under the spell of those limpid, +imploring eyes, the tremulous lips, and he rose and proffered his seat. + +The act of courtesy was unfortunate. It accentuated Mrs. Fenton's rage. +Her heart was torn by jealousy. That Lavinia had shaken her head and +refused the seat made not the slightest difference. The girl had become +surpassingly handsome. Despite her fury Mrs. Fenton had eyes for this. +Her own daughter had attracted the notice of _her_ man! The offence was +unpardonable. + +Lavinia knew nothing about this. All she wanted was to escape +observation and she darted into the kitchen, Betty the cook receiving +her with open mouth. + +A narrow, ricketty staircase in a corner of the kitchen shut in by a +door which a stranger would take for that of a cupboard led to the upper +part of the house. Lavinia guessed as much. She darted to this door, +flung it open and ran up the creaking stairs just as her mother, shaking +with passion, entered and caught sight of her flying skirt. + +"Good laux, mistress," Betty was beginning, but she could get no +further. Mrs. Fenton jumped down her throat. + +"Hold your silly tongue. Don't talk to me. I--the smelling salts! Quick, +you slut, or I'll faint," screamed the lady. + +No one could look less like fainting than did Mrs. Fenton, and so Betty +thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself and fetched the restorer +at which her mistress vigorously sniffed, after sinking, seemingly +prostrate, into a chair. Then she fell to fanning her hot face with her +apron, now and again relieving her feelings with language quite +appropriate to the neighbourhood of the Old Bailey. + +Meanwhile Hannah wisely kept aloof and only went to the kitchen when +necessary to execute her customers' orders. Directly the fainting lady +inside saw the waitress she revived. + +"What's this about Lavinia? Tell me. Everything mind," she cried. + +"What I don't know I can't tell, mistress. Ask her yourself," returned +Hannah. + +"Don't try to bamboozle me. You _do_ know." + +"I say I don't. I found her outside more dead than alive, and I brought +her in. I wasn't going to let her be and all the scum of Newgate about." + +"Oh, that was it. And pray how did you come to learn she was outside?" + +"Because she'd looked in at the door a minute afore and was afeared to +come in 'cause of you, mistress. Give me that dish o' bacon, Betty. The +man who saw his breakfast tumbling on the floor is in a sad pother." + +This was a shot for Mrs. Fenton. Hannah rarely sought to have words with +her mistress, but when she did she stood up to her boldly. Mrs. Fenton +was discomfited and Hannah, snatching the dish Betty handed to her, +vanished to appease the hungry customer, leaving the angry woman to chew +over her wrath as best she might. + +Mrs. Fenton gradually cooled down. In half an hour's time the market +would be in full swing and most of her customers would be gone. Though +she was dying to know what had brought her daughter home, the story +would not spoil by keeping. Besides, though she was in a pet with +Dobson, she did not want to give him offence and she tried to make +amends for her angry outburst by bestowing upon him extra graciousness. + +Before long Hannah was quite able to attend single-handed to the few +lingerers, and Mrs. Fenton went upstairs, eager to empty her vial of +suppressed temper on "that chit," as she generally called Lavinia. + +She entered her own bedroom expecting to find the girl there, but +Lavinia had no fancy for invading her mother's domains and had gone into +the garret where Hannah slept. Dead with fatigue, mentally and bodily, +she had thrown herself dressed as she was on Hannah's bed and in a few +minutes was in a heavy sleep. But before doing so she slipped under the +bolster something she was holding in her left hand. It was the purse +forced upon her by Lancelot Vane. + +Mrs. Fenton stood for a minute or so looking at her daughter. She could +not deny that the girl was very pretty, but that prettiness gave her no +satisfaction. She felt instinctively that Lavinia was her rival. + +"The baggage is handsomer than I was at her age, and I wasn't a fright +either or the men wouldn't ha' been always dangling after me. With that +face she ought to get a rich husband, but I'll warrant she's a silly +little fool and doesn't know her value," muttered the lady, her hands on +her hips. + +Then her eyes travelled over the picturesque figure on the bed, noting +everything--the shoeless foot, the stockings wet to some inches above +the small ankles, the mud-stained skirt, the bedraggled cloak saturated +for quite a foot of its length. Her hair had lost its comb and had +fallen about her shoulders. Mrs. Fenton frowned as she saw these signs +of disorder. + +Then she caught sight of a piece of paper peeping from the bosom of the +girl's dress. The next instant she had gently drawn it out and was +reading it. The paper was Dorrimore's letter. + +"Of course, I knew there was a man at the bottom of the business. And a +marriage too. Hoity toity, that's another pair of shoes." + +She threw back a fold of the cloak, and scrutinised Lavinia's left hand. + +"No wedding ring!" she gasped. "I might ha' guessed as much. Oh, the +little fool! Why, she's worse than I was. _I_ wasn't to be taken in by +soft whispers and kisses--well--well--_well_!" + +The lady bumped herself into the nearest chair, breathed heavily and +smoothed her apron distractedly. Then she looked at the letter again. +Her glance went to the top of the sheet. + +"So, no address. That looks bad. Who's Archibald Dorrimore? May be that +isn't his right name. He's some worthless spark who's got hold of her +for his own amusement. Oh, the silly hussy! What could that prim +Mistress Pinwell have been about? A fine boarding school indeed! She +can't go back. But I won't have her here turning the heads of the men. +That dull lout, Bob Dobson, 'ud as lieve throw his money into her lap as +he'd swallow a mug of ale. What'll her fine friends do for her now? +Nothing. She's ruined herself. Well, I won't have her ruin me." + +Mrs. Fenton worked her fury to such a height that she could no longer +contain herself, and seizing her daughter's shoulder she shook her +violently. The girl's tired eyelids slowly lifted and she looked +vaguely into the angry face bending over her. + +"Tell me what all this means, you jade. What have you been up to? How is +it you're in such a state? Who's been making a fool of you? Who's this +Dorrimore? Are you married to him or not?" + +The good lady might have spared herself the trouble of pouring out this +torrent of questions. The last was really the only one that mattered. + +"Married? No, I'm not," said Lavinia drowsily. "Don't bother me, mother. +Let me sleep. I'll tell you everything, but not--not now. I'm too +tired." + +"Tell me everything? I should think you will or I'll know the reason +why. And it'll have to be the truth or I'll beat it out of you. Get up." + +There was no help for it. Lavinia knew her mother's temper when it was +roused. Slowly rubbing her eyes she sat up, a rueful and repentant +little beauty, but having withal an expression in her eyes which seemed +to suggest that she wasn't going to be brow-beaten without a struggle. + +"I ran away from school to be married," said she with a little pause +between each word. "I thought I was being taken to the Fleet, but when I +saw the coach wasn't going the right way I knew I was being tricked. On +London Bridge I broke the coach window, opened the door and escaped." + +"A parcel of lies! I don't believe one of 'em," interjected the irate +dame. + +"I can't help that. It's the truth all the same. I cut my arm with the +broken glass. Perhaps that'll convince you." + +Lavinia held out her bandaged arm. + +"No, it won't. What's become of your shoe?" + +"I took it off to break the window with the heel and afterwards lost +it." + +Mrs. Fenton was silent. If Lavinia were telling false-hoods she told +them remarkably well. She spoke without the slightest hesitation and the +story certainly hung together. + +"After I jumped from the coach I ran to the river, down the stairs at +the foot of the bridge. The water was low and I stood under the bridge +afraid to move. A terrible fight was going on above me. I don't know +what it was about. The shooting and yelling went on for a long time and +I dursn't stir. I would have taken a wherry but no waterman came near. +Then the tide turned; the water came about my feet and I crept up the +stairs. I was in the Borough, but I dursn't go far. The street was full +of drunken people and I crept into a doorway and hid there. I suppose I +looked like a beggar, for no one noticed me. Then when the streets were +quieter I came here." + +It will be noticed that Lavinia did not think it necessary to mention +the handsome young man who had rescued her. + +While she was recounting her adventures her mother, though listening +attentively, was also pondering over the possible consequences. The +story might be true or it might not, whichever it was did not matter. It +was good enough for the purpose she had in her mind. + +"Why didn't you go back to Miss Pinwell's?" Mrs. Fenton demanded +sharply. "I see by this scrawl that it isn't the first time you've +stolen out to meet this precious gallant of yours." + +And Mrs. Fenton, suddenly producing the letter which she had hitherto +concealed, waved it in her daughter's face. Lavinia flushed angrily and +burst out:-- + +"You'd no right to read that letter any more than you had to steal it." + +"Steal it? Tillyvalley! It's my duty to look after you and I'm going to +do it. Why didn't you go back to the school as you seem to have done +before?" + +"Because the key of the front door was in my reticule, and that was +snatched from me or it slipped from my wrist in the scuffle on the +bridge." + +"A pretty how de do, my young madam, upon my word. Miss Pinwell'll +never take you back. Goodness knows what may happen. What'll Mr. Gay, +who's been so good to you, think of your base ingratitude?" + +Lavinia's eyes filled with tears. She broke down when she thought of the +gentle, good-natured poet. She could only weep silently. + +Mrs. Fenton saw the sign of penitence with much satisfaction and while +twirling her wedding ring to assist her thoughts, suddenly said:-- + +"You haven't told me a word about this spark of yours. Who is he? What +is he? Some draper's 'prentice, I suppose, or footman, may be out of a +place for robbing his master and thinking of turning highwayman." + +"Nothing of the kind," cried Lavinia, furious that her mother should +think she would so bemean herself. "I hate him for his falseness, but +he's a born gentleman all the same." + +"Oh, is he? Let's hear all about him. There's no address on his letter. +Where does he live?" + +"I shan't tell you." + +"Because you're ashamed. I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't a trull's bully +from Lewknor's Lane or Whetstone Park. The rascals pass themselves off +as sparks of fashion at ridottos, masquerades and what not and live by +robbery and blood money. I warrant I'll soon run your fine gentleman to +earth. He talks about telling his father. Pooh! That was but to bait the +trap and you walked into it nicely." + +Her mother's insinuations maddened poor Lavinia. The mention of +Lewknor's Lane and Whetstone Park, two of the most infamous places in +London, was amply sufficient to break her spirit, which indeed was Mrs. +Fenton's intention. The worst of it was that after what had happened she +had in her secret heart come round to the same opinion so far as the +baiting of the trap was concerned. She was far too cast down to make +any reply and wept copiously, purely through injured pride and +humiliation. + +"You must leave me to deal with this business, child," said Mrs. Fenton +loftily. "If the young man really belongs to the quality and what he +writes about his father is true, then his father must be made to pay for +the injury his son's done you. I suppose he's told you who his father is +and where he lives, and _I_ want to know too. If I'm to get you out of +the mess you're in you must help me." + +"I won't," gasped Lavinia between her sobs. "I don't want to hear +anything more about him or his father either. I wish to forget both of +them." + +"Humph! That won't be so easy as you'll find, you stubborn little fool. +Keep your mouth shut if you like. I'll ferret out the truth without +you." + +And stuffing the letter into her capacious pocket, Mrs. Fenton stalked +out of the room and directly she was outside she turned the key in the +lock. Lavinia, too exhausted in body and too depressed in mind to think, +sobbed herself to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"I WISH I WERE A RICH LADY FOR YOUR SAKE" + + +Lavina awoke to find Hannah in the room. The maid had brought in a cup +of chocolate and something to eat. + +"I'm a dreadful sight, Hannah," said she dolefully. + +"You'll be better when you've had a wash and done your hair. Your +cloak's spoilt. What a pity! Take it off and let me brush away the mud +and see if I can smooth out the creases." + +Lavinia stretched herself, yawned and slowly pulled herself up, sitting +on the side of the bed for a minute or two before she commenced her +toilette. Hannah helped her to dress to the accompaniment of a running +commentary on the state of her clothing. + +"What am I to do about shoes?" asked Lavinia, when this part of her +wearing apparel was reached. + +"You won't be wanting any for a time I'm thinking, Miss Lavvy." + +"Not wanting any shoes? Whatever do you mean?" + +"Your mother means to lock you in this room for a while. She was for +keeping you for a day or two on bread and water, but I talked her out of +it." + +Lavinia started in dismay. Then she burst out:-- + +"I won't endure such treatment. I won't, Hannah! You'll help me to run +away, won't you?" + +"Not till I know what's going to become of you." + +"But if I'm a prisoner you're my gaoler and you can let me out whenever +you choose." + +"No I can't. I've to hand over the key to your mother." + +"So you can after I'm gone." + +"And what do you suppose I'm to say to her when that happens?" + +"Oh, what you like, Hannah. I don't believe you're afraid of anybody. +You're so brave," said Lavinia, coaxingly. + +"Well, well, we'll see. But I warn you, child, I'm not going to let you +come to harm." + +Lavinia laughed and shrugged her plump shoulders. After what she had +gone through the night before she felt she could face anything. She knew +she could talk over the good-natured Hannah and she heard the latter +lock the door without feeling much troubled. + +For all that Lavinia had a good deal to worry about, and she sat sipping +the chocolate while she pondered over what she should do. She could +think of no one she could go to besides Mr. Gay. How would he receive +her after her escapade? + +"He knows so many play actors," she murmured,--"didn't he say I had a +stage face? I wonder--I wonder." + +And still wondering she rose and straightened the bed. Shifting the +pillow she found beneath it the purse she had placed there before going +to sleep. Excitement and exhaustion had driven it out of her head. She +felt quite remorseful when the remembrance of the chivalrous young man +came into her mind. + +"Ah me," she sighed. "I'll warrant I'll never set eyes on him again. I +do hope he wasn't hurt." + +Lavinia looked at the purse wistfully. She had not had the opportunity +of seeing what it contained. It was of silk with a silver ring at each +end to keep the contents safe, and an opening between the rings. One end +had money in it, in the other a piece of paper crackled. She slipped the +ring at the money end over the opening and took out the coins--a guinea, +a crown and a shilling. + +"I don't like taking it. He gave it me to pay the waterman and I hadn't +the chance. It isn't mine. I ought to return it to him. But how can I? I +don't know where he lives. I don't even know his name." + +Then she fingered the other end. She slid the ring but hesitated to do +more. To look at the paper seemed like prying into the owner's affairs. +It must be something precious for him to carry it about with him. +Suppose it was a love letter from his sweetheart? She blushed at the +idea. Then curiosity was roused. Her fingers crept towards the papers, +for there were two. One ran thus:-- + + + "The Duke's Theatre, + "Lincoln's Inn Fields. + "SIR,-- + + "I have read your play and herewith return it. I doubt not it has + merit but it will not suit me. + + "I am your obedient humble servant, + + Lancelot Vane, Esq. "JOHN RICH." + + +"Poor fellow--so he writes plays. How aggravating to have such a rude +letter. 'Obedient--humble--servant,' forsooth! I hate that John Rich. +He's a bear." + +Then Lavinia unfolded the second letter. It was more depressing than the +first. + +"Lancelot Vane, 3, Fletcher's Court, Grub Street," Lavinia read; +"Sir,--I give you notiss that if you do nott pay me my nine weeks' rent +you owe me by twelve o'clock to-morrer I shall at wunce take possesshun +and have innstruckted the sheriff's offiser in ackordance therewith. +Yours respeckfully, Solomon Moggs." + +"Oh, a precious lot of respect indeed," cried Lavinia angrily. + +The date of the letter was that of the day before. The money had +consequently to be paid that very day and it was already past twelve +o'clock. If the poor young man could not pay he would at that moment be +homeless in the street and maybe arrested for debt and taken to the +Fleet or even Newgate. Hadn't she seen the poor starving debtors stretch +their hands through the "Debtors' door" in the Old Bailey and beg for +alms from the passers-by with which to purchase food? She pictured the +poor young man going through this humiliation and it made her shudder. +He was so handsome! + +And all for the want of a paltry twenty-seven shillings! Twenty-seven +shillings? Was not that the exact sum of money in the purse? + +"Oh, that must have been for his rent," cried Lavinia, clasping her +hands in great distress. "And he gave it to me!" + +She was overwhelmed. She must return the money at once. But how? She ran +to the door. It was locked sure enough. The window? Absurd. It looked +out upon a broad gutter and was three storeys from the street. If it +were possible to lower herself she certainly could not do so in the +daytime. And by nightfall it would be too late. She sat down on the +side of the bed, buried her face in her hands and abandoned herself to +despair. + +But this feeling did not last long. Lavinia sprang to her feet, flung +back her hair and secured it. Then she went once more to the window and +clambered out into the broad gutter. She hadn't any clear idea what to +do beyond taking stock of her surroundings. She looked over the parapet. +It seemed a fearful depth down to the roadway. Even if she had a rope it +was doubtful if she could lower herself. Besides, rarely at any hour +even at night was the Old Bailey free from traffic. She would have to +think of some other way. + +She crept along the gutter in front of the next house. Dirty curtains +hung at windows. There was no danger of her being seen even if the room +had any occupants. She crawled onward, feeling she was a sort of Jack +Sheppard whose daring escapes were still being talked about. + +At the next window Lavinia hesitated and stopped. This window had no +curtains. The grime of many months, maybe of years, obscured the glass. +One of the small panes was broken. Gathering courage she craned her head +and looked through the opening. The room was empty. The paper on the +walls hung in strips. There was a little hole in the ceiling through +which the daylight streamed. + +If the house should, like the room, be empty! The possibility opened up +all kinds of speculation in Lavinia's active brain. Why not explore the +premises? Up till now she had forgotten her lost shoe. To pursue her +investigations unsuitably dressed as she was would be absurd. Supposing +she had a chance of escaping into the street she must be properly +garbed. + +She did not give herself time to think but hastened back to Hannah's +room. She tried on all the shoes she could find. One pair was smaller +than the rest. She put on that for the left foot. It was a little too +large but near enough. Then she hurried on her hooded cloak and once +more tackled the gutter. She was able to reach the window catch by +putting her hand through the aperture in the broken pane. In a minute or +so she was in the room, flushed, panting, hopeful. + +A long, long time must have passed since that room had been swept. Flue +and dust had accumulated till they formed a soft covering of nearly a +quarter of an inch thick. A fusty, musty smell was in the room, in the +air of the staircase, everywhere. + +She feared that only the upper part of the house was uninhabited but it +was not so. The place was terribly neglected and dilapidated. Holes were +in the walls, some of the twisted oak stair-rails had been torn away, +patches of the ceiling had fallen. But Lavinia hardly noticed anything +as she flew down the stairs. The lock could not be opened from the +outside without the key, but inside the handle had but to be pushed back +and she was in the street. She pulled her hood well over her head and +hastened towards Ludgate Hill. It was not the nearest route to Grub +Street which she knew was somewhere near Moorfields, but she dared not +pass her mother's house. + +Lavinia knew more about London west of St. Paul's than she did east of +it, and she had to ask her way. Grub Street she found was outside the +city wall, many fragments of which were then standing, and she had to +pass through the Cripples Gate before she reached the squalid quarter +bordering Moor Fields westward, where distressed poets, scurrilous +pamphleteers, booksellers' hacks and literary ne'er-do-wells dragged out +an uncertain existence. + +Lavinia found Fletcher's Court to be a narrow passage with old houses +dating from Elizabethan times, whose projecting storeys were so close +together that at the top floor one could jump across to the opposite +side without much difficulty. With beating heart she entered the house, +the door of which was open. She met an old woman descending a rickety +tortuous staircase and stopped her. + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Vane lives here?" said she. + +"Well, he do an' he don't," squeaked the old dame. "Leastways he won't +be here much longer. He's a bein' turned out 'cause he can't pay his +rent, pore young gentleman. We're all sorry for him, so civil spoken and +nice to everybody, not a bit like some o' them scribblers as do nothing +but drink gin day an' night. Street's full of 'em. I can't make out what +they does for a livin'! Scholards they be most of 'em I'm told. Mr. +Vane's lodgin's on the top floor. You goes right up. That's old Sol +Moggs' squeak as you can hear. Don't 'ee be afeared of 'im, dearie." + +The old woman, who was laden with a big basket and a bundle, went out +and Lavinia with much misgiving ascended the stairs. She remembered the +name, Solomon Moggs. He was the landlord. If his nature was as harsh and +discordant as his voice poor Lancelot Vane was having an unpleasant +time. + +"Ill, are ye?" she heard Moggs shrieking. "I can't help that. I didn't +make you ill, did I? Maybe you was in a drunken brawl last night. It +looks like it with that bandage round your head. You scribbling gentry, +the whole bunch of ye, aren't much good. I don't see the use of you. Why +don't ye do some honest work and pay what you owes? I can't afford to +keep you for nothing. Stump up or out ye go neck and crop." + +Lavinia ran up the next flight. The landing at the top was low pitched +and dark. The only light was that which came from the open door of a +front room. In the doorway was a little man in a shabby coat which +reached down to his heels. His wig was frowsy, his three-cornered hat +was out of shape and he held a big stick with which he every now and +then thumped the floor to emphasise his words. + +Beyond this unpleasant figure she could see a small untidy room with a +sloping roof. The floor, the chairs--not common ones but of the early +Queen Anne fashion with leathern seats--an old escritoire, were strewn +with papers. The occupant and owner was invisible. But she could hear +his voice. He was remonstrating with the little man in the doorway. + +Lavinia touched the man on the shoulder. He turned, stared and seeing +only a pretty girl favoured her with a leer. + +"How much does Mr. Vane owe you?" said Lavinia, chinking the coins. + +"Eh, my dear? Are you going to pay his debt? Lucky young man. Nine weeks +at three shillings a week comes to twenty-seven shillings. There ought +to be a bit for the lawyer who wrote the notice to quit. But I'll let +you off that because of your pretty face." + +Lavinia counted the money into the grimy outstretched paw. Moggs' face +wrinkled into a smirk. + +"Much obleeged, my young madam. I'll wager as the spark you've saved +from being turned into the street'll thank you more to your liking than +an old fellow like me could." + +Solomon Moggs made a low bow and was turning away when Lancelot Vane +suddenly appeared. His face was very pallid and he clutched the door to +steady himself. What with his evident weakness and his bandaged head he +presented rather a pitiable picture. + +"What's all this?" he demanded. "I'm not going to take your money, +madam." + +"It's not mine," cried Lavinia in a rather disappointed tone. She could +see he did not remember her. + +"Faith an' that's gospel truth," chuckled Moggs. "It's mine and it's not +going into anybody else's pocket." And he hastily shuffled down the +staircase. + +Lavinia turned to Vane a little ruffled. + +"You don't recollect me," she said. "The money's ours. I didn't want it +but you did and so I brought it back. I'm so glad I was in time and +that you're rid of that horrid man." + +Lancelot Vane stared fixedly at her. The events of the night before were +mixed up in his mind and he had but a dim remembrance of the girl's +face. Indeed he had caught only a momentary glimpse of it. + +"Was it you, madam, who were pursued by those ruffians?" he stammered. +"I'm grateful that you've come to no harm." + +"Oh, it was all your doing," cried Lavinia, eagerly, "you were so brave +and kind. I was too frightened last night to think of anything but +getting away and I didn't thank you. I want to do so now." + +"No, no. It's you who should be thanked. Don't stand there, pray. Do +come inside. It's a frightfully dirty room but it's the best I have." + +"But I--I must get back." + +"You're in no hurry, I hope. I've so much I would like to say to you." + +"What can you have? We're such strangers," she protested. + +"Just now we are perhaps, but every minute we talk together makes us +less so. Please enter." + +His voice was so entreating, his manner so deferential, she could not +resist. She ventured within a few steps and while he cleared a chair +from its books and papers her eyes wandered round. One end of the room +was curtained off and the opening between the curtains revealed a bed. +The furniture was not what one would expect to find in a garret. It was +good and solid but undusted and the upholstery was faded. The general +appearance was higgledy-piggledy--hand to mouth domesticity mixed up +with the work by which the young man earned, or tried to earn, his +living. No signs of a woman's neatness and touches of decoration could +be seen. + +Lavinia's glances went to the owner of the garret. After all it was only +he who was of real interest. She noticed the difficulty he had in +lifting a big folio from the chair. He could hardly use his right arm. +She saw his hollow cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. She +hadn't spent years in the streets amongst the poorest not to know that +his wistful look meant want of food--starvation may be. + +"Won't you sit down?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"This belongs to you," she said, holding out his purse. "I'm so sorry +it's empty." + +"I'm sorry too. You haven't spent a farthing on yourself and I meant it +all for you." + +"It was very foolish when you wanted money so badly." + +"That doesn't matter. You wouldn't have been here now if I hadn't given +it you." + +Her eyes lighted up. The same thought had crossed her mind. + +"How did you know I lived here?" he went on. + +"Well I--I opened the other end of the purse and read what was on the +papers inside. It was very wrong. You'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"I'd forgive you anything. You descended upon me like an angel. Not many +young ladies of your station would have had the courage to set foot in +Grub Street." + +A smile trembled on Lavinia's tempting lips. + +"My station? What then do you think is my station?" + +"How can I tell? I take you to be a lady, madam. I don't want to know +any more." + +At this Lavinia laughed outright. Her clothes were of good quality and +of fashionable cut--the Duchess of Queensberry's maid had seen to +that--her manner and air were those of a lady of quality--thanks to Miss +Pinwell--but apart from these externals what was she? A coffee shop +waitress--a strolling singer--a waif and stray whose mother would not +break her heart if she got her living on the streets! + +When she thought of the bitter truth the laughing face was clouded. + +"I wish I were a lady--a rich one, I mean--for your sake," said she +softly. "You look so ill. You ought to have a doctor." + +"I ought to have a good many things, I daresay, that I haven't got. I +have to do without." + +Her eyes drooped. They remained fixed on a little gold brooch fastening +her cloak. The brooch was the gift of Dorrimore. The wonder was her +mother had not discovered it. + +"I must go. I--I've forgotten something." + +"But you'll come again, wont you?" said he imploringly. "Though to be +sure there's nothing in this hovel to tempt you? Besides, the difference +between us----" + +"Please don't talk nonsense," she broke in. "Yes, I'll come again soon. +I don't know how long I shall be--a couple of hours perhaps." + +"Do you really mean that?" he cried, joyfully. + +"Yes, if nothing happens to prevent me. Good-bye for a while." + +She waved her hand. He caught the tips of her fingers and kissed them. +One bright smile in response and she was gone. + +With her heart fluttering strangely--a fluttering that Dorrimore had +never been able to inspire--Lavinia flew down the staircase and sped +through the streets in the direction of London Bridge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"YOU'VE A MIGHTY COAXING TONGUE" + + +The shop on London Bridge of Dr. Mountchance, apothecary, astrologer, +dealer in curios and sometimes money lender and usurer, was in its way +picturesque and quaint, but to most tastes would scarcely be called +inviting. Bottles of all shapes and sizes loaded the shelves, mingled +with jars and vases from China, Delft ware from Holland and plates and +dishes from France, which Dr. Mountchance swore were the handiwork of +Palissy, the famous artist-potter. Everything had a thick coating of +dust. Dried skins of birds, animals and hideous reptiles hung from the +walls and ceiling; a couple of skulls grinned mockingly above a doorway +leading into a little room at the rear, and it was difficult to steer +one's way between the old furniture, the iron bound coffers and +miscellaneous articles which crowded the shop. + +In the room behind, chemical apparatus of strange construction was on +one table; packets of herbs were on another; a huge tome lay opened on +the floor, and books were piled on the chairs. The apartment was a +mixture of a laboratory and lumber room. A furnace was in one corner, +retorts, test tubes, crucibles, a huge pestle and mortar, jars, bottles +were on a bench close handy. + +The room was lighted by a window projecting over the Thames, and the +roar of the river rushing through the narrow arches and swirling and +dashing against the stone work never ceased, though it varied in +violence according to wind and tide. The house was a portion of the old +chapel of St. Thomas, long since converted from ecclesiastical +observances to commercial uses. + +Dr. Mountchance, who at this moment was at a table in the centre +examining a silver flagon and muttering comments upon it, was a little +man about seventy, with an enormous head and a spare body and short +legs. His face was wrinkled like a piece of wet shrivelled silk and his +skin was the colour of parchment. His eyes, very small and deep-set, +were surmounted by heavy brows once black, now of an iron grey. His +mouth was of prodigious width, the lips thin and straight and his nose +long, narrow and pointed. He wore a dirty wig which was always awry, a +faded mulberry coloured coat, and a frayed velvet waistcoat reaching +halfway down his thighs. His stockings were dirty and hung in bags about +his ankles, his feet were cased in yellow slippers more than half worn +out. + +Dr. Mountchance's hearing was keen. A footfall in the shop, soft as it +was, caused him to look up. He saw a slight girlish figure, her cloak +pulled tightly about her, a pair of bright eyes peering from beneath the +hood. + +The old man gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. Many of his customers were +women but he liked them none the more because of their sex. They +generally came to sell, not to buy, and most of them knew how to drive a +hard bargain. He shuffled into the shop with a scowl on his lined yellow +face. + +"What d'ye want?" he growled. + +Most girls would have been nervous at such a reception. Not so this one. + +"I want to sell this brooch. How much will you give me for it?" said +she, undauntedly. + +"Don't want to buy it. Go somewhere else." + +"I shan't. Too much trouble. Besides, you're going to buy it, dear Dr. +Mountchance." + +The imploring eyes, the beseeching voice, soft and musical, the modest +yet assured manner, were too much for the old man. Unconscious of the +destiny awaiting her, Lavinia was employing the same tenderness of look, +the same captivating pathos of tone as when two years later she, as +Polly Peachum, sang "Oh ponder well," and won the heart of the Duke of +Bolton. + +"H'm, h'm," grunted Mountchance, "you pretty witch. Must I humour ye?" + +"Of course you must. You're so kind and always ready to help others." + +The doctor showed his yellow fangs in a ghastly grin that gave a +skull-like look to his dried face. + +"Hold thy wheedling tongue, hussy. This trinket--gold you say?" + +"Try it, you know better than I." + +Dr. Mountchance took the brooch into the inner room, weighed it, tested +the metal and returned to the shop. + +"I can give you no more than the simple value of the gold. 'Tis not +pure--a crown should content ye." + +"Well, it doesn't. Do you take me for a cutpurse? I'm not that sort." + +"How do I know? You use thieves' jargon. Where did you pick it up?" + +Lavinia gave one of her rippling laughs. + +"That's my business and not yours. I tell you it's honestly come by and +I want a guinea for it. You know it's worth five and maybe more. The man +who gave it me--I don't care for him you may like to know--isn't mean. +He'd spend a fortune on me if I'd care to take it but I don't." She +tossed her head disdainfully. + +"Oh, 'tis from your gallant. Aye, men are easily fooled by bright eyes. +Well--well----" + +Lavinia's ingenuous story had its effect. Not a few of Dr. Mountchance's +lady customers preferred money to trinkets and he did a profitable trade +in buying these presents at his own price. Some of these flighty damsels +were haughty and patronising and others were familiar and impudent. The +old man disliked both varieties. Lavinia belonged to neither the first +nor the second. She was thoroughly natural and the humour lurking in her +sparkling eyes was a weapon which few could resist. Dr. Mountchance +unclasped a leather pouch and extracted a guinea. + +"You've a mighty coaxing tongue, you baggage. Keep it to yourself that I +gave you what you asked, lest my reputation as a fair dealing man be +gone for ever." + +"Oh, you may trust me to keep my mouth shut," said Lavinia with mock +gravity. + +A sweeping curtsey and she turned towards the door. At the same moment a +lady cloaked and hooded like herself entered. They stared at each other +as they passed. + +Lavinia recognised Sally Salisbury, though the latter was much more +finely dressed than when they encountered each other outside the +Maidenhead Tavern in St. Giles. Sally was not so sure about Lavinia. The +slim girl was now a woman. She carried herself with an air. She had +exchanged her shabby garments for clothes of a fashionable cut which she +knew how to wear. Still, some chord in Sally's memory was stirred and +she advanced into the shop with a puzzled look on her face. + +Mountchance received his fresh customer obsequiously. He had made a good +deal of money out of Sally; she never brought him anything which was not +valuable and worth buying. Sometimes her treasures were presents from +admirers, sometimes they were the proceeds of highway robberies. The +latter yielded the most profit. The would-be sellers dared not haggle. +They were only too anxious to get rid of their ill-gotten gains. + +The old man bowed Sally Salisbury into his inner room. He knew that the +business which had brought her to him was one that meant privacy. He +ceremoniously placed a chair for her and awaited her pleasure. + +The lady was in no hurry. She caught sight of the gold brooch lying on +the table, took it up and examined it. On the back was graven "A.D. to +Lavinia." Sally's dark arched eyebrows contracted. + +"Lavinia," she thought. "So it _was_ that little squalling cat. I hate +her. She's tumbled on her feet--like all cats. But for the letters I'd +say she'd flung herself at the head of _my_ man." + +Sally was thinking of her encounter with Lavinia outside the Maiden Head +tavern. Lancelot Vane was then sitting in the bow window of the +coffee-room. True he was in a drunken sleep but this would make no +difference. Lavinia, Sally decided, was in a fair way to earn her +living, much as Sally herself did--the toy of the bloods of fashion one +day, the companions of highwaymen and bullies the next. + +"Where did the impertinent young madam get her fine clothes and her +quality air if not?" Sally asked herself, and the question was a +reasonable one. + +"Have you brought me ought that I care to look at, Mistress Salisbury?" +broke in the old man impatiently. "You haven't come to buy that paltry +trinket, I'll swear." + +"How do you knew? It takes my fancy. Where did you get it?" + +"I've had it but five minutes. You passed the girl who sold it me as you +came in. A pretty coaxing wench. She'd make a man pour out his gold at +her feet if she cared to try." + +Sally's lips went pallid with passion and her white nostrils quivered. + +"A common little trull," she burst out. "She should be sent to Bridewell +and soundly whipped. 'Tis little more than six months she was a street +squaller cadging for pence round the boozing kens of St. Giles and Clare +Market. And now--pah! it makes me sick." + +Sally flung the brooch upon the table with such violence it bounced a +foot in the air. + +"Gently--gently, my good Sally," remonstrated Mountchance, "if you must +vent your fury upon anything choose your own property, not mine." + +It was doubtful if the virago heard the request. She was not given to +curbing her temper, and leaning back in the chair, her body rigid, she +beat a tattoo with her high-heeled shoes and clenched her fists till +the knuckles whitened. + +Mountchance had seen hysterical women oft times and was not troubled. He +opened a stoppered bottle and held its rim to the lady's nose. The +moment was well chosen, Sally was in the act of drawing a deep breath, +probably with the intention of relieving her feelings by shrieking +aloud. The ammonia was strong and she inhaled a full dose. She gasped, +she coughed, her eyes streamed, the current of her thoughts changed, she +poured a torrent of unadulterated Billingsgate upon the imperturbable +doctor who busied himself about other matters until Sally should think +fit to regain her senses. + +That time came when after a brief interval of sullenness, accompanied by +much heaving of the bosom and biting of lips she deigned to produce the +pearl necklace, the spoil of Rofflash's highway robbery on the Bath +Road. + +Mountchance looked at the pearls closely and his face became very +serious. + +"The High Toby game I'll take my oath," said he in a low voice. "Such a +bit of plunder as this must be sent abroad. I dursn't attempt to get rid +of it here." + +"That's _your_ business. My business is how much'll you give." + +Dr. Mountchance named a sum ridiculously low so Sally thought. Then +ensued a long haggle which was settled at last by a compromise and Sally +departed. + +As she hurried back to her lodgings in the Borough, Sally was quite +unaware that Rofflash, disguised as a beggar with a black patch over his +eye and a dirty red handkerchief tied over his head in place of his wig, +was stealthily shadowing her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"YOU WERE BRAVE AND FOUGHT FOR ME" + + +Meanwhile Lavinia was hastening to Grub Street. On her way she bought a +pair of shoes which if not quite in the _mode_ were at least fellows. +She also cleverly talked the shopkeeper into allowing her something on +the discarded odd ones and thereby saved a shilling. + +The girl's old life in roaming about the streets had sharpened her wits. +Adversity had taught her much. It had given her a knowledge of persons +and things denied to those to whom life had always been made easy. She +had had sundry acquaintances among the pretty orange girls who plied +their trade at Drury Lane and the Duke's theatres and had got to know +how useful Dr. Mountchance was in buying presents bestowed upon them by +young bloods flushed with wine, and in other ways. Hence when in want of +money she looked upon her brooch she at once thought of the old man's +shop on London Bridge. + +The taverns in those days were real houses of refreshment. Food could be +had at most of them as well as drink. Still a girl needed some courage +to enter. The men she might meet were ready to make free in far too +familiar a fashion. Lavinia stopped in front of the "Green Dragon" near +the Cripples Gate, but hesitated. Many months had passed since the time +when she would have boldly walked into the galleried inn-yard and asked +for what she wanted. The refining influence of Miss Pinwell's genteel +establishment had made her loathe the low life in which her early years +had been passed. + +"They can't eat me," she thought. "Besides, the poor fellow is +starving." + +The place was fairly quiet. One or two men of a group drinking and +gossipping winked at each other when they caught sight of her pretty +face, but they said nothing and she got what she asked for, a cold +chicken, bread and a bottle of wine. + +Lavinia hastened to Grub Street. She ran up the dirty narrow ricketty +stairs, her heart palpitating with excitement, and she knocked at the +garret door. It was opened immediately, Lancelot Vane stood in the +doorway, his fine eyes beaming. He looked very handsome, Lavinia +thought, and she blushed under his ardent gaze. + +He had washed, he had shaved, he had put on his best suit and his wig +concealed the cut on his forehead. He was altogether a different +Lancelot from the bedraggled, woe-begone, haggard young man whom she had +found in the last stage of misery two hours ago. He had moreover, +enlisted the help of the old woman whom Lavinia had met on the stairs at +her first visit and the place was swept and tidied. The room as well as +its occupant was now quite presentable. + +"I've brought you something to eat," stammered Lavinia quite shyly to +her own surprise. "You don't mind, do you?" + +"Not if you'll do me the honour to share it with me." + +"Oh, but it will give you so much trouble. And I'm not hungry. I bought +it all for you." + +Lavinia was busy emptying the contents of a rush basket which the +good-natured landlord of the "Green Dragon" had given her. + +"Have you a plate and a knife and fork? You can't eat with your fingers, +you know." + +"I've two plates and two knives and forks, but the knives are not pairs. +I apologise humbly for my poverty stricken household." + +"That doesn't matter. I'm not going to touch a morsel." + +"Neither am I then. And it isn't my hospitality, remember, but yours. +Why are you such a good Samaritan?" + +"You were brave and fought for me. I shall never forget last +night--never." + +"It will always be in my memory too, and I want our first meal together +to be in my memory also. Alas! I have no tablecloth." + +"But you have plenty of paper," Lavinia laughingly said. "That will do +as well." + +Lancelot laughed in unison and seizing a couple of sheets of foolscap he +opened and spread them on the table. + +"One for you and one for me, but you see I've put them together," said +he with a roguish gleam in his eye. + +"No, they must be separate." + +But he had his way. + +Soon the banquet was ready and it delighted Lavinia to see how +ravenously the young man ate. At the same time it pained her for it told +of days of privation. Before long they were perfectly at ease and +merrily chatting about nothing in particular, under some circumstances +the best kind of talk. Suddenly he said: + +"I'm wondering where my next meal is to come from. I can't expect an +angel to visit me every day." + +"Perhaps it will be a raven. Didn't ravens feed Elijah?" said Lavinia +mockingly. + +"I believe so, but I'm not Elijah. I'm not even a prophet. I'm only a +poor scribbler." + +"You write plays, don't you?" + +"I've written one but I'm afraid it's poor stuff. I meant to show it to +Mr. Gay the great poet. I was told he was often to be found at the +Maiden Head in St. Giles, but unluckily I was persuaded by some friends +to see Jack Sheppard's last exploit at Tyburn. I drank too much--I own +it to my shame--and when I reached the inn where I hoped to see Mr. Gay +I fell dead asleep and never saw him. He had gone when I awoke." + +Lavinia clasped her hands. A shadow passed over her bright face leaving +it sad and pensive. The red mobile lips were tremulous and the eyes +moist and shining. She now knew why Lancelot Vane's features had seemed +so familiar to her. But not for worlds would she let him know she had +seen him in his degradation. + +Besides she too had memories of that day she would like to forget--save +the remembrance of her meeting with Gay and his kindness to her, a +kindness which she felt she had repaid with folly and ingratitude. + +"Then you know Mr. Gay?" said she presently. + +"I was introduced to him by Spiller the actor one night at the Lamb and +Flag, Clare Market--I'll warrant you don't know Clare Market; 'tis a +dirty greasy ill-smelling place where everyone seems to be a +butcher----" + +Lavinia said nothing. She knew Clare Market perfectly well. + +"Mr. Gay was good enough to look at some poems I had with me. He praised +them and I told him I'd written a play and he said he would like to see +it. And then--but you know what happened. I feel I daren't face him +again after disgracing myself so. What must he think of me?" + +"He'll forgive you," cried Lavinia enthusiastically. "He's the dearest, +the kindest, the most generous hearted man in the world. He is my best +friend and----" + +She stopped. She was on the point of plunging into her history and there +was no necessity for doing this. She had not said a word to Lancelot +Vane about herself and she did not intend to do so. He must think what +he pleased about the adventure which had brought them together. He must +have seen her leap from Dorrimore's carriage--nay, he may have caught +sight of Dorrimore himself. Then there was the ruffian of a coachman who +had pursued her. The reason of the fellow's anxiety to capture her must +have puzzled Vane. Well, it must continue to puzzle him. + +"Mr. Gay your friend?" returned Vane with a pang of envy. "Ah, then, +you're indeed fortunate. I--you've been such a benefactor to me, madam, +that I hesitate to ask another favour of you." + +All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an +equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was +a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest +work, "The Fables," was being talked about at Button's, at Wills', at +every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the +world of fashion and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the +assured manner of one, he thought. + +"What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help +you," said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young +man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her. + +"Thank you," he exclaimed eagerly. "I would ask you if you have +sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse +you nothing. Nobody could." + +"Oh, this is very sad," said Lavinia shaking her head. "I'm afraid, Mr. +Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of +no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to +trust it to me." + +"Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything." + +"You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of. +But--where's this play of yours? May I look at it?" + +"It would be the greatest honour you could confer upon me. I would +dearly love to have your opinion," he cried, his face flushing. + +"My opinion isn't worth a button, but all the same the play would +interest me I'm sure." + +He went to a bureau and took from one of the drawers a manuscript neatly +stitched together. + +"I've copied it out fairly and I don't think you'll have much difficulty +in deciphering the writing." + +Lavinia took the manuscript and glanced at the inscription on the first +page. It ran "Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot +Vane." + +"Oh, it's a tragedy," she exclaimed. + +He read the look of dismay that crept over her face and his heart fell. + +"Yes. But the real tragic part doesn't come until the very last part of +the fifth act." + +"And what happens then?" + +"The lovers both die. They do not find out how much they love each other +until it is too late for them to be united, so Stephen kills Amanda and +then kills himself." + +"How terribly sad. But wasn't there any other way? Why couldn't you have +made them happy?" + +"Then it wouldn't have been a tragedy." + +"Perhaps not. But what prevented them marrying?" + +"Amanda, not knowing Stephen loved her, had married another man whom she +didn't care for." + +"I see. There was a husband in the way. Still it would have been wiser +for her to have left him and run away with Stephen. It certainly would +have been more in the mode." + +"Not on the stage. People like to see a play that makes them cry. How +they weep over the sorrows of Almeria in Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning +Bride!'" + +"Yes, so I've heard. I've never seen the play. The title frightens me. I +don't like the notion of a mourning bride." + +"Not in real life I grant you. But on the stage it's different. I'm +sorry you don't care for my tragedy," he went on disappointedly. + +"I never said that. How could I when I haven't read a line? That's very +unjust of you." + +"I humbly crave forgiveness. Nothing was further from my thoughts than +to accuse you of being unjust. I ought to have said that you didn't care +for tragedies, and if so mine would be included. Pray pardon me." + +"How serious! You haven't offended me a bit. After all it isn't what I +think of your play that's of any consequence. It's what Mr. Gay thinks +and I'll do my best to take it to him." + +"You will? Madam, you've made me the happiest of mortals. Let me wrap up +my poor attempt at play writing." + +"Why do you call it poor? And am I not to read it?" + +"No, no. Not a line. You would think it tedious. I'll wait for Mr. Gay's +opinion, and if that's favourable I would like with your permission to +introduce a part for you." + +"What, in a tragedy? I can't see myself trying to make people weep." + +"But it wouldn't be a tragic part. While we've been talking it has +occurred to me that the play would be improved by a little comedy." + +"Yes," rejoined Lavinia eagerly, "by a character something like Cherry +in the 'Beaux Stratagem?'" + +"H'm," rejoined Vane. "Not quite so broad and vivacious as Cherry. That +would be out of keeping." + +"I'd dearly love to play Cherry," said Lavinia meditatively. + +"You'd be admirable I doubt not, but----" + +"Would the part you'd introduce have a song in it?" + +"H'm," coughed the dramatist again. "Hardly. There are no songs in +tragedies." + +"I don't see why there shouldn't be. I love singing. When I'm an actress +I must have songs. Mr. Gay says so." + +"Then you've not been on the stage?" + +"No, but I hope I shall be soon. I dream of nothing else." + +Vane looked at her inquiringly. To his mind the girl seemed made for +love. Surely a love affair must have been the cause of the escapade on +London Bridge. How came she to be alone with a gallant in his carriage +at that time of night? But he dared not put any questions to her. Her +love affairs were nothing to him--so he tried to persuade himself. + +He was now busy in tying up the manuscript in a sheet of paper and +Lavinia was thinking hard. + +The question was, what was to become of her? She had no home, for she +had made up her mind she would not go back to her mother and Miss +Pinwell was equally impossible. This impeccable spinster would never +condone such an offence as that of which she had been guilty. Neither +did Lavinia wish the compromising affair to be known in the school and +talked about. She felt she had left conventional schooling for ever and +she yearned to go back to life--but not the same life in which her early +years had been passed. + +Another worry was her shortness of money. She had but a trifle left out +of the guinea her brooch had fetched. In the old days she could have +soon earned a shilling or two by singing outside and inside taverns. But +what she had done as a beggar maid could not be thought of in her fine +clothes. And during the last six months, with good food, regular hours +and systematic drilling, she had shot up half a head. She was a grown +woman, and she felt instinctively that as such and with the winsome face +Nature had bestowed upon her, singing outside taverns would be +considered by men as a blind for something else. In addition she looked +back upon her former occupation with loathing. It could not be denied +that she was in an awkward plight. + +She was so absorbed that she did not hear Vane who finished tieing up +the packet speaking to her. Suddenly she became aware of his voice and +she turned to him in some confusion. + +"I beg your pardon. You were saying----" + +"Pardon my presumption, I was asking whether I might have the privilege +of knowing your name." + +"Oh yes. Lavinia Fenton. But that's all I can tell you. You mustn't ask +where I live." + +"I'm not curious. I'm quite contented with what you choose to let me +know." + +"And with that little are you quite sure you'll trust me with your play? +Suppose I lose it or am robbed?" + +"I must take my chance. I've a rough draft of the whole and also all the +parts written out separately. I wouldn't think of doubting you. But do +you know where to find Mr. Gay?" + +"Oh yes. He lives at the house of his friend, Her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry." + +"That is so," rejoined Vane in a tone of evident relief. Her answer +convinced him that what she said about knowing Gay was true. + +"I can only promise to deliver it to him and if possible place it in his +own hands. Do you believe me?" + +"Indeed I do. And will you see me again and bring me an answer?" + +"Why, of course," said she smilingly. + +He insisted upon attending her down the staircase and when they were in +the dark passage down below they bade each other adieu, he kissing her +extended hand with a courteous bow which became him well. + +Vane watched her thread her way along poverty-stricken Grub Street, and +slowly ascended the staircase to his garret sighing deeply. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +IN THE CHAPTER COFFEE HOUSE + + +It was nearly six o'clock when Lavinia stood on the broad steps of +Queensberry House behind Burlington Gardens. Now that she was staring at +the big door between the high railings with their funnel shaped link +extinguishers pointing downward at her on either side her courage +seemed to be slipping from her. The grotesque faces supporting the +triangular portico seemed to be mocking her, the enormous knocker +transformed itself into a formidable obstacle. + +The adventures of the last forty-eight hours had suddenly presented +themselves to the girl's mind in all their enormity. It occurred to her +for the first time that she had not only thrown away the chance of her +life, but that she had been guilty of black ingratitude to her +benefactors. And her folly in permitting the fancy to rove towards +Archibald Dorrimore, for whose foppishness she had a contempt, simply +because he was rich! The recollection of this caused her the bitterest +pang of all. + +How could she justify her conduct to Mr. Gay! Would he not look upon her +as a light o' love ready to bestow smiles upon any man who flattered +her? Well, she wouldn't attempt to justify herself. Mr. Gay was a poet. +He would understand. But the terrible duchess--Kitty of Queensberry who +feared nothing and in the plainest of terms, if she was so minded, +expressed her opinion on everything! Lavinia quaked in her shoes at the +thought of meeting the high-born uncompromising dame. + +"But I've promised the poor fellow. I _must_ keep my word. I don't care +a bit about myself if I can do that," she murmured. + +Lavinia had a sudden heartening, and lest the feeling should slacken she +seized the heavy bell-pull and gave it a violent tug. + +The door was opened almost immediately by a fat hall porter who scowled +when he saw a girl instead of the footman of a fine lady in her chair. + +"What d'ye want? A-ringing the bell like that one would think you was my +Lord Mayor." + +"I'm neither the Lord Mayor nor the Lady Mayoress, as your own eyes +ought to tell you. I wish to see Mr. Gay." + +"Well, you can't," said the porter gruffly. "He's not here. He's staying +with Mr. Pope at Twitnam." + +"Twitnam? Where is Twitnam?" + +"Up the river." + +"How far? Can I walk there?" + +"May be, but you hadn't better go on foot. It's a goodish step--ten or a +dozen miles. You might go by waggon, there isn't no other way save toe +and heel. An' let me give you warning, young 'oman, the roads aren't +safe after dark. D'rectly you get to Knightsbridge footpads is ten a +penny, let alone 'ighwaymen. Not that you're _their_ game--leastways by +the looks o' you." + +"Thank you. I'm not afraid, but you mean your advice kindly and I'll not +forget it. Mr. Gay's at Mr. Pope's house you say?" + +"Mr. Pope's villa--he calls it. Mr. Pope's the great writer." + +"I've heard of him. Which is the way after I've left Knightsbridge?" + +"Why, straight along. Don't 'ee turn nayther to the right or the left, +Kensington--'Ammersmith--Turn'am Green--Brentford--you goes through 'em +all, if you don't get a knock on the 'ead on the way or a bullet through +ye. One's as likely to 'appen as the other. I wouldn't answer fer your +getting safe and sound to Twitnam unless you goes by daylight." + +"That's what I must do then," said Lavinia resignedly. "Thank you +kindly." + +"You're welcome, I hope as how that pretty face o' yours won't get ye +into trouble. It's mighty temptin'. I'd like a kiss myself." + +"Would you? Then you won't have one. As for my face, I haven't any other +so I must put up with it." + +Dropping a curtsey of mock politeness Lavinia hastened away and did not +slacken her pace till she reached Piccadilly and was facing the large +open space now known as the Green Park. + +It was a lovely evening and the western sun though beginning to descend, +still shone brightly. The long grass invited repose and Lavinia sat down +on a gentle hillock to think what her next step must be. + +She was greatly disappointed at not finding Mr. Gay. She was sure he +would have forgiven her escapade; he would have helped her over the two +difficulties facing her--very little money and no shelter for the night. +Of the two the latter was most to be dreaded. + +"A year ago," she thought, "it wouldn't have mattered very much. The +Covent Garden women and men from the country are kind-hearted. I'd have +had a corner in a waggon and some hay to lie upon without any bother, +and breakfast the next morning into the bargain. But now--in these +clothes--what would they take me for?" + +These reflections, all the same, wouldn't solve the problem which was +troubling her and it _had_ to be solved. She must either walk about the +streets or brave the tempest of her mother's wrath. This wrath, however, +didn't frighten her so much as the prospect of being again made a +prisoner. Her mother, she felt sure, had some deep design concerning +her, though what it was she could not conceive. + +Tired of pondering over herself and her embarrassing situation Lavinia +turned her mind to something far more agreeable--her promise to Lancelot +Vane which of course meant thinking about Vane himself. + +She couldn't help contrasting Vane with Dorrimore. She hated to remember +having listened seriously to the latter's flatteries. By the light of +what had happened it seemed now to her perfectly monstrous that she +could ever have consented to marry him. It angered her when she thought +of it--but her anger was directed more against herself than against +Dorrimore. + +"I suppose I ought to go back to Mr. Vane. He'll be waiting anxiously to +know how I've fared, but no--I'll go to Twitenham first." + +She sat for some time watching the sunset. She wove fanciful dreams in +which the pallid face and large gleaming eyes of the young poet were +strangely involved. With what courtly grace and reverence he had kissed +her hand! Vane was a gentleman by nature; Dorrimore merely called +himself one and what was more boasted of it. + +But what did it matter to her? Vane had done her a service and it was +only right she should repay him in some sort. This was how she tried to +sum up the position. Whether Mr. Gay befriended him or not, their +acquaintance would have to cease. He was penniless and so was she. If +she confessed as much as this to him he would be embarrassed and +distressed because he could not help her. + +"I dursn't tell him," she sighed. "I'll have to do something for myself. +Oh, if I could only earn some money by singing! I would love it. Not in +the streets though. No, I could never do that again. Never!" + +She clasped her hands tightly and her face became sad. Then her thoughts +went back to Vane and she pictured him in his lonely garret perhaps +dreaming of the glorious future awaiting him if his tragedy was a +success, or perhaps he was dejected. After so many disappointments what +ground had he for hope? Lavinia longed to whisper in his ear words of +encouragement. She had treasured that look when his face lighted up at +something she had said that had pleased him. And his sadness she +remembered too. She was really inclined to think she liked him better +when he was sad than when he was joyful. But this was because she +gloried in chasing that sadness away. It was a tribute to her power of +witchery. + +Dusk was creeping on. She must not remain longer in that solitary +expanse. She rose and sped towards Charing Cross. In the Strand citizens +and their wives, apprentices and their lasses were taking the air. The +scraps of talk, the laughter, gave her a sense of security. But the +problem of how to pass the night was still before her. She dared not +linger to think it out. She must go on. Young gallants gorgeously +arrayed were swaggering arm in arm in pursuit of adventure, in plain +words in pursuit of women, the prettier the better. Lavinia had +scornfully repelled the advances of more than one and to loiter would +but invite further unwelcome attention. + +The night was come but fortunately the sky was clear, for the Strand was +ill lighted. St. Mary's Church, not long since consecrated, St. +Clement's Church, loomed large and shadowy in the narrow roadway, +narrowing still more towards Temple Bar past the ill-favoured and +unsavoury Butcher's Row on the north side of the street, where the +houses of rotting plaster and timber with overhanging storeys frowned +upon the passer-by and suggested deeds of violence and robbery. + +Butcher's Row and its evil reputation, even the ruffians and dissolute +men lurking in the deep doorways did not frighten Lavinia so much as the +silk-coated and bewigged cavaliers. The days of the Mohocks were gone it +was true, but lawlessness still remained. + +Lavinia was perfectly conscious that she was being followed by a spark +of this class. She did not dare look round lest he should think she +encouraged him, but she knew all the same that he was keeping on her +heels. Along Fleet Street he kept close to her and on Ludgate Bridge +where the traffic was blocked by the crowd gazing into the Fleet river +at some urchin's paddling in the muddy stream he spoke to her. She +hadn't the least idea what he said, she was too terrified. + +In the darkness of St. Paul's Churchyard she had the good luck to avoid +him and she darted into Paternoster Row, and took shelter in a deep +doorway. Either he had not noticed the way she went or he had given up +the chase, for she saw no more of him. + +The doorway in which she had sought refuge was a kind of lobby with an +inner door covered with green baize. From the other side came the sound +of loud talking and laughter, and the clinking of glasses. It was the +Chapter Coffee House, the meeting place of booksellers, authors who had +made their names, and struggling scribblers hanging on to the skirts of +the muses. + +The air was close. Inside the revellers may have found it insufferable. +The door was suddenly opened and fastened back by one of the servants. +The man looked inquiringly at the shrinking figure in the lobby. +Evidently she was not a beggar and he said nothing. + +Lavinia glanced inside from no feeling other than that of curiosity. At +the same time she was reluctant to leave the protection of the house +until she was sure her persecutor was not lurking near. + +The candles cast a lurid yellowish light; the shadows were deep; only +the faces of those nearest the flame could be clearly distinguished. One +table was surrounded by a boisterous group in the centre of which was a +fat man in a frowsy wig. He had a malicious glint in his squinting eyes +and was evidently of some importance. When he spoke the others listened +with respect. + +This pompous personage was Edmund Curll, bookseller, whose coarse and +infamous publications once brought him within the law. Curll, we are +told, possessed himself of a command over all authors whatever; he +caused them to write what he pleased; they could not call their very +names their own. Curll was the deadly enemy of Pope and his friends, and +his unlimited scurrility drew from the poet of Twickenham a retaliation +every whit as coarse and as biting as anything the bookseller's warped +mind ever conceived. + +Had Lavinia been told this was the notorious Curll, the name would have +conveyed nothing. The quarrels of poets and publishers were to her a +sealed book. All that she knew was that she disliked the man at first +sight, while his vile speech made her ears tingle with shame. Despite +the danger possibly awaiting her in the gloom of Paternoster Row she +would have fled had not the sight of one of the group at the table +rooted her to the spot. + +This was Lancelot Vane whom her maiden fancy had elevated into a god +endowed with all the virtues and laden with misfortunes which had so +drawn him towards her. Vane--alas that it should have to be written--had +taken much wine--far too much! + +Lavinia knew the signs. Often in the old days in St. Giles had she seen +them--the eyes unnaturally bright, the face unnaturally flushed, the +laugh unnaturally empty. And she had pictured Vane so sad, so depressed! +The sight of him thus came upon her as a shock. + +At first she was angry and then full of excuses for him. It was not his +fault, she argued, but that of his companions and especially of the +squint-eyed, foul-tongued man who no sooner saw that the bottle was +getting low than he ordered another one. + +What could she do to help him? Nothing. He was out of her reach. She +remembered how he looked when she first saw him at the Maiden Head inn. +He would probably look like that again before the night was ended. She +could not bear to gaze upon him as he was now and she crept away with +the old wives' words in her mind--Providence looks after drunken men and +babes. + +She stole from the lobby sad at heart. She had no longer the courage to +face the dangers of the street. The deep shadow of great St. Paul's, +sacred building though it was, afforded her no protection; it spoke +rather of cut-throats, footpads, ruffians ready for any outrage. The din +of voices, the sounds of brawling reached her from Cheapside. The London +'prentices let loose from toil and routine were out for boisterous +enjoyment and may be devilry. She dared not go further eastward. + +The only goal of safety she could think of was the coffee house in the +Old Bailey. Why should she be afraid of her mother? + +"She won't lock me up again. I'll take good care of that. I suppose she +thinks I'm still a child. Mother's mistaken as she'll find out." + +So she wheeled round and went back to Ludgate Hill, keeping close to the +houses so that she should not attract attention. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LAVINIA'S PILGRIMAGE + + +It was past nine when Lavinia turned into the Old Bailey. The chief +trade done by the coffee house was in the early morning. After market +hours there were few customers save when there was to be an execution at +Tyburn the next morning, and those eager to secure a good sight of the +ghastly procession and perhaps take part in it, assembled opposite the +prison door over night. Mrs. Fenton in the evenings thought no more of +business, but betook herself to the theatre or one of the pleasure +gardens in the outskirts of London. + +Lavinia remembered this and hoped for the best. At such a time Mrs. +Fenton with her love of pleasure would hardly stay at home. + +Lavinia hurried past grim Newgate and crossed the road. The coffee house +was on the other side. Hannah was standing in the doorway in a cruciform +attitude, her arms stretched out, each hand grasping the frame on either +side. She was gossipping with a man and laughing heartily. Lavinia +decided that her mother must be out. If at home she would never allow +Hannah this liberty. Lavinia glided to the woman and touched one of the +outstretched hands. Hannah gave a little "squark" when she felt the +girl's cold fingers. + +"It's only me Hannah," whispered Lavinia. + +"Only me--an' who's me?... Bless us an' save us child, what do you go +about like a churchyard ghost for? Where in 'eaven's name have ye sprung +from? I never come across anybody like you, Miss Lavvy, for a worryin' +other people. I've been a-crying my eyes out over ye." + +"And mother, has she been crying too?" + +"Your mother? Not she," returned Hannah with a sniff of contempt. "Catch +her a-cryin' over anything 'cept when she hasn't won a prize in a +lottery. But come you in. I've ever so much to tell you. You'd best be +off Reuben. I'll see you later." + +Reuben who was one of the men employed at Coupland's soap works in the +Old Bailey, looked a little disappointed, but he obeyed nevertheless. + +"You've given us a pretty fright and your lady mother's been in a mighty +tantrum. I tell you it's a wonder as she didn't tear my eyes out. She +swore as it was all my fault a lettin' you go. But what have you come +back for?" + +"I had to. But don't bother, it's only for a few hours. Mother's out I +know." + +"Course she is. Simpson the cattle dealer's a-beauing her to Marybone +Gardens. They won't be back this side o' midnight. Now just tell me what +you been a-doin' of. You're a pretty bag o' mischief if ever there was +one. Who's the man this time? T'aint the one as you runned away with, is +it?" + +"No, indeed," cried Lavinia, indignantly. "I don't want ever to see him +again." + +"Well, your mother does," returned Hannah with an odd kind of laugh. + +"Whatever for?" + +"I'll let you have the story d'rectly, but you tell me your tale first." + +By this time they were in the shop and Hannah caught sight of Lavinia's +white, drawn face and her tear-swollen eyes. + +"You poor baby. What's your fresh troubles?" + +"Nothing--that is, not much. I'm tired. I'm faint. Give me some +coffee--cocoa--anything." + +Faint indeed she was. At that meal with Lancelot Vane she had eaten very +sparingly. She was too excited, too much absorbed and interested in +seeing him so ravenous to think of herself. In addition she had gone +through much fatigue. + +"Coffee--cocoa--to be sure," cried the kindly Hannah, "an' a hot +buttered cake besides. You shan't say a word till I've gotten them +ready." + +The cook had gone. There was no one in the house save Hannah. The two +went into the kitchen where the fire was burning low--with the aid of +the bellows Hannah soon fanned the embers into a flame and she was not +happy until Lavinia had eaten and drank. + +Then Lavinia told the story of her adventures, hesitatingly at first and +afterwards with more confidence seeing that Hannah sympathised and did +not chide or ridicule. + +"An' do 'ee mean to tell me you're going to Twitenham to-morrow?" + +Lavinia nodded. + +"What, over a worthless young man who gets drunk at the first chance he +has?" + +Lavinia fired up. + +"He's not worthless and he wasn't drunk." + +"Hoity-toity. What a pother to be sure. Well, I'll warrant he is by this +time." + +"How do you know? If he is it won't be his fault. The others were +drinking and filling his glass. I saw them, the wretches," cried Lavinia +with heightened colour. "But it is nothing to me," she went on tossing +her head. "Why should I bother if a man drinks or doesn't drink?" + +"Why indeed," said Hannah ironically. "Since you don't care we needn't +talk about him." + +"No, we won't, if you've only unkind things to say." + +"Eh, would you have me tell you how well you've behaved and how good you +are? First you run away to be married to a man you don't care for, and +in the next breath you take no end of trouble and tire yourself to death +over another man you say you don't care for either. Are you going +through your life like that--men loving you and you leaving them?" + +"You're talking nonsense, Hannah. You know nothing about it," cried +Lavinia angrily. "Let me manage my own affairs my own way and tell me +what mother's doing. You read me a riddle about her just now." + +"'Tisn't much of a riddle. It's just what one might guess she'd do when +she's on the scent for money. You've become mighty valuable to her all +of a sudden." + +"I! Valuable? Oh la! That's too funny." + +"You think so, do you child? Wait till you hear. _I_ call it a monstrous +shame an' downright wicked. A mother sell her own child! It's +horrible--horrible." + +"What are you talking about, you tiresome Hannah?" cried the girl +opening her eyes very wide. + +"Ah, you may well ask. After you was locked up she pocketted that letter +from your spark and off she went to his lodgings in the Temple. She well +plied herself with cordials an' a drop o' gin or two afore she started, +an' my name's not Hannah if she didn't repeat the dose as she came back. +I knowed it at once by her red face an' her tongue a-wagging nineteen to +the dozen. She can't keep her mouth shut when she's like that. It all +comed out. She'd been to that Mr. Der--Dor--what's his name?" + +"Dorrimore. Yes--yes. Go on. I want to hear," exclaimed Lavinia +breathlessly. + +"I wouldn't ha' said a word agen her if she'd insisted upon the fine +young gentleman paying for his frolic a trying to fool you--which he +didn't do an' you may thank yourself for your sperrit Miss Lavvy--that +was only what a mother ought to do, but to sell her own child to make +money out of her own flesh an' blood--well I up an' told her to her face +what I thought of her." + +"Make money out of _me_, good gracious Hannah, how?" + +"The fellow offered her fifty guineas if she'd hand you over to him. He +swore he'd make a lady of you." + +"What! Marry me?" + +"Marry you! Tilly vally, no such thing. He'd spend money on you--fine +dresses, trinkets, fallals and all that, but a wedding ring, the +parson--not a bit of it. An' when he tired of you he'd fling you away +like an old glove." + +"Would he?" cried Lavinia indignantly. "Then he won't." + +"No, but it means a tussle with your mother. What a tantrum she went in +to be sure when she found you was gone. She fell upon poor me an' called +me all the foul names she could lay her tongue to. Look at these." + +Hannah pushed back her cap and her hair and showed four angry red +streaks down the side of her face. Mrs. Fenton had long nails and knew +how to use them. + +Lavinia was horrified. Throwing her arms round the honest creature's +neck she kissed her again and again. Then she exclaimed despairingly:-- + +"What am I do to do to-night? I dursn't stay here." + +"I'm not so sure about that. I'm thinking it can be managed. Your +mother's gone to Marybone Gardens with Dawson, the Romford cattle +dealer. They won't be home till latish an' I'll go bail as full o' +strong waters as they can carry. It's not market day to-morrow and your +mother'll lie in bed till noon. You can share my bed an' I'll let 'ee +out long afore the mistress wakes." + +"Oh thank you--thank you Hannah. How clever you are to think of all +this." + +"Not much cleverness either. Trust a woman for finding out a way when +love's hanging on it." + +"Love?" rapped out Lavinia sharply. + +"Aye, it's love as is taking you to Twitenham with the young man's +rubbishy play." + +"You've not read it, Hannah. It's not fair to call it rubbishy." + +"Not read it, no, nor never shall, and may be I'll never see it acted +either. But I hope it will be, Lavinia, for your sake. But take care, +it's ill falling in love with a man who's fond of his cups." + +Lavinia made no reply. Her face had suddenly gone grave. + +Hannah ceased to tease her and bustled about to get supper--something +warm and comforting, stewed rabbit and toasted cheese to follow. + +The bedroom shared by Lavinia and Hannah was in the front of the house. +About two o'clock both were awakened by the champing of a horse and the +squeaking and scraping of wheels followed by a loud wrangling in a deep +bass growl and a shrill treble. + +"That's the mistress--drat her," grumbled Hannah from under the +coverlet. "She's a-beatin' down the coachman. She always does it." + +The hubbub was ended, and not altogether to the satisfaction of the +hackney coachman judging by the way he banged his door. Mrs. Fenton +stumbled up the stairs to her room rating the extortion of drivers, and +after a time all was silence. + +Daylight was in the room when Lavinia awoke. She slipped quietly out of +bed not wanting to disturb Hannah, but the latter was a light sleeper. + +"Don't you get up," said Lavinia. "I can dress and let myself out +without bothering you." + +"What, an' go into the early morning air wi'out a bite or sup inside +you? I'm not brute beast enough to let you do that." + +And Hannah bounced out of bed bringing her feet down with a thump which +must have awakened Mrs. Fenton in the room below had the lady been in a +normal condition, which fortunately was not the case. + +Within half an hour the two stole out of the house, and on reaching the +Ludgate Hill end of the Old Bailey turned eastwards. Their destination +was the Stocks Market occupying the site where the present Mansion House +stands. The Stocks Market was the principal market in London at that +time, Fleet Market was not in existence and Covent Garden, then mainly a +fashionable residential quarter, was only in its infancy as to the sale +of fruit and vegetables. + +But the Stocks Market eastwards of St. Paul's was not in the direction +of Twickenham, or Twitenham as it was then called. Why then were Lavinia +and Hannah wending their way thither? + +It was in this wise. Hannah was quick witted and fertile in resources. +Moreover she was a native of Mortlake, then surrounded by fruit growing +market gardens and especially celebrated for its plums, the fame of +which for flavour and colour and size has not quite died out in the +present day. Hannah had had her sweethearting days along by the +riverside and in pleasant strolls on Sheen Common, and not a few of her +swains cherished tender recollections of her fascinating coquetry. She +knew very well she would find some old admirer at the Stocks Market who +for auld lang syne would willingly give Lavinia a seat in his covered +cart returning to Mortlake with empty baskets. And Mortlake of course, +is no very long distance from Twickenham. + +So it came about. The clock of St. Christopher le Stocks struck five as +the two young women entered the market. The Bank of England as we now +know it did not then exist. St. Christopher's, hemmed in by houses, +occupied the site of the future edifice, as much in appearance like a +prison as a bank. Sir Thomas Gresham's Exchange then alone dominated the +open space at the entrance of the Poultry. + +The market was in full swing. Shopkeepers, hucksters and early risen +housewives keen on buying first hand and so saving pennies were +bargaining at the various stalls. Hannah went about those set apart for +fruit and soon spotted some one she knew--a waggoner of honest simple +looks. His mouth expanded into the broadest of grins and he coloured to +his ears when he caught sight of Hannah. + +"Ecod Hannah, my gal, if the sight o' 'ee baint good fur sore eyes. I'm +in luck sure-ly. Fi' minutes more an' 'ee'd ha' found me gone. Dang me +if 'ee baint bonnier than ever." + +"Don't 'ee talk silly, Giles Topham. Keep your nonsense for Hester +Roberts." + +"Hester Roberts! What be that flirty hussy to I?" retorted Giles +indignantly. + +"You know best about that, Giles. What be 'ee to me? That's more to the +purpose I'm thinking." + +"I be a lot to 'ee Hannah. Out wi' the truth now, an' tell me if I +baint." + +Lavinia was beginning to feel herself superfluous in the midst of this +rustic billing and cooing, and was moving a few steps off when Hannah +having whispered a few words to Giles which might have been a reproof or +the reverse beckoned to her, and without further ado told her old +sweetheart what she wanted. + +"I'd a sight sooner take 'ee Hannah--meanin' no offence to 'ee miss--but +if it can't be, why----" + +"Of course it can't, you booby. You know that as well as I do." + +"Aye. Some other time may be," rejoined Giles grinning afresh. "So 'ee +be a-goin' to see the great Mr. Pope? 'Ee'll have to cross by the ferry +and 'tis a bit of a walk there from Mortlake but I'll see 'ee safe." + +"I should think you would or I'll never speak to you again." + +Giles gave another of his grins and set to work arranging the baskets +in his cart so as to form a seat for Lavinia, and having helped the girl +to mount, bade Hannah adieu, a matter which took some few minutes and +was only terminated by a hearty kiss which Hannah received very +demurely. Then Giles after a crack of his whip started his horse, at the +head of which he marched, and with waving handkerchiefs by Hannah and +Lavinia the cart took the road to London Bridge. + +The nearest way to Mortlake would have been the Middlesex side, crossing +the river at Hammersmith, but Hammersmith Bridge had not been thought of +and the cart had to plod through Lambeth, Vauxhall, Wandsworth, Putney +and Barnes. + +At intervals Giles climbed into the cart and entertained Lavinia with +guileless talk, mainly relating to Hannah and her transcendent virtues. +Nor did he stop at Hannah herself but passed on to her relatives, her +mother who was dead and her grandmother who was ninety and "as hale an' +hearty as you please." + +"A wonnerful old dame she be an' mighty handy with her needle, a'most as +she used to be when she was a girl a-working at the tapestry fact'ry by +the riverside. It were a thunderin' shame as ever the tapestry makin' +was done away with at Mortlake an' taken to Windsor. It was the King's +doin's that was. Not his Majesty King George, but King Charles--long +afore my time, fifty years an' more agone. Lords an' ladies used to come +to Mortlake then I'm told an' buy the wool picture stuff, all hand sewn, +mind ye, to hang on the walls o' their great rooms. Some of it be at +'Ampton Palace this very day." + +Thus and much more Giles went on and Lavinia listened attentively. The +cart rumbled through the narrow main street of Mortlake and reached +Worple way where Giles and his mother lived in a cottage in the midst of +a big plum orchard. + +The old woman was astonished to see a pretty girl seated in her son's +cart but the matter was soon explained, and she insisted upon Lavinia +having a meal before going on to Twickenham. + +Then Giles volunteered to show Lavinia the way to the ferry, the +starting point of which on the Surrey side was near Petersham Meadows, +and in due time she was landed at Twickenham. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"ARE WORDS THE ONLY SIGNS OF LOVE?" + + +Lavinia easily found her way to Pope's villa. The first man of whom she +inquired knew the house well and guided her to it. + +The house was somewhat squat and what we should now call double fronted. +The back looked on to a garden bordering the river, the front faced a +road on the other side of which was a high wall with a wooded garden +beyond. + +"That be Mr. Pope's house, young madam, an' that be his garden too, +t'other side o' that wall. He be but a feeble shrivelled up whey-faced +little gentleman, thin as a thread paper an' not much taller than you +yourself. I'm told as he baint forty, but lor, he might be ninety by his +looks. We folk in the village don't see much of him an' I doubt if he +wants to see us." + +"Gracious! Why is that? What makes him so unsociable?" + +"He's always ailing, poor gentleman. Why, if ye went by his face he +might have one foot in the grave. When he fust comed to live here he +hated to have to cross the road to get to that there garden t'other +side, so what do'e do but have a way dug under the road. It be a sort +o' grotto, they say, with all kinds o' coloured stones and glasses +stuck about an' must ha' cost a pile o' money. I s'pose rich folk must +have their whims and vapours an' must gratify 'em too, or what be the +good o' being rich, eh? Thank 'ee kindly young madam." + +Lavinia, upon whom the good Hannah had pressed all the coins that were +in her pocket, gave the man a few coppers and summoning her courage she +grasped the bell-pull hanging by the door in the wall fronting the +house. Her nerves were somewhat scattered and she could not say whether +the clang encouraged or depressed her. May be the latter, for a sudden +desire seized her to run away. + +But before desire had become decision the door in the wall had opened +and a soberly attired man-servant was staring at her inquiringly. +Lavinia regained her courage. + +"I want to see Mr. Gay please. I'm told he's staying with Mr. Pope." + +"Aye. What's your business?" + +"That's with Mr. Gay, not with you," rejoined Lavinia sharply. + +The man either disdained to bandy words or had no retort ready. He +admitted the visitor and conducted her into the house. Lavinia found +herself in a small hall, stone paved, with a door on either side. The +hall ran from the front to the back of the house and at the end a door +opened into a wooden latticed porch. Beyond was a picturesque garden and +further still the river shining in the sun. She heard men talking and +apparently disputing. The shrill tones of one voice dominated the rest. + +The servant bade her wait in the hall while he went to Mr. Gay. He did +not trouble to ask her name. + +While he was gone Lavinia advanced to the open door, drawn thither by +curiosity. A garden grateful to the eye was before her. It had not the +grotesque formality of the Dutch style which came over with William of +Orange--the prim beds with here and there patches and narrow walks of +red, flat bricks, the box trees cut and trimmed in the form of peacocks +with outstretched tails, animals, anything absurd that the designer +fancied. Close to the river bank drooped a willow, and a wide spreading +cedar overspread a portion of the lawn. + +Underneath the cedar four men were sitting round a table strewn with +papers. Lavinia easily recognised the portly form of her patron, Gay. +Next to him was a diminutive man, his face overspread by the pallor of +ill-health. He was sitting stiff and bolt upright and upon his head in +place of a fashionable flowing wig was a sort of loose cap. + +"That must be Mr. Pope, the queer little gentleman the countryman told +me of," thought Lavinia. + +She saw the servant in a deferential attitude standing for some time +between Mr. Pope and Mr. Gay waiting for an opportunity to announce his +errand. For the moment the discussion was too absorbing for anyone of +the four to pay attention to the man. + +"Mr. Rich no high opinion has of either music or musicians," said one of +the disputants, a lean, dried-up looking man who spoke with a strong +guttural accent. This was Dr. Pepusch, musical director at John Rich's +theatre, the "Duke's," Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields. + +"Dr. Pepusch is right," rejoined Gay. "That is why I favoured Cibber. +But from his reception of me I doubt if he'll take the risk of staging +the play." + +"Cibber likes not you, Mr. Gay, and he hates me," said Pope with his +acid smile. "He's a poet--or thinks he's one--and poets love not one +another. Nothing is so blinding to the merits of others as one's own +vanity." + +"Nay, Mr. Pope, is not that assumption too sweeping?" put in the fourth +man, of cheerful, rubicund countenance and, like Gay, inclined to +corpulency. "What about yourself and Mr. Gay? Is there anyone more +conscious of his talents and has done more to foster and encourage them +than you? Who spoke and wrote in higher praise of Will Congreve than +John Dryden?" + +"Your argument's just, Arbuthnot," rejoined Pope. "And that's why I +rejoice that the King, his Consort and the Statesman who panders to her +spite and lives only for his own ambition have insulted our friend. +Their taste and their appreciation of letters found their level when +they considered the author of the 'Trivia' and the 'Fables' was +fittingly rewarded by the appointment of 'gentleman usher' to a +princess--a footman's place, forsooth!" + +It was too true. George the First was dead, George the Second had +succeeded and with the change of government Gay hoped to obtain the +"sinecure" which would have kept him in comfort to the end of his days. +He was bitterly disappointed. The post bestowed upon him was a +degradation. + +"Say no more on that head," exclaimed Gay hastily, "I would forget that +affront." + +"But not forgive. We're all of us free to carry the battle into the +enemy's camp and with the more vigour since you are fighting with us, +John Gay. The 'Beggar's Opera'--'tis mainly the Dean's idea--the title +alone is vastly fine--will give you all the chance in the world. Pray do +not forget the Dean's verses he sent you 't'other day. They must be set +to good music, though for my own part I know not one tune from another." + +Snatching a sheet of paper from the table Pope, in his thin, piping +voice, read with much gusto:-- + + + "Through all the employments of life + Each neighbour abuses his brother, + Trull and rogue they call husband and wife, + All professions be-rogue one another. + + "The priest calls the lawyer a cheat, + The lawyer be-knaves the divine, + And the statesman because he's so great + Thinks his trade as honest as mine." + + +"Aye; that should go home. Faith, I'd give my gold headed cane to see +Sir Robert's face when he hears those lines," laughed the cheery +physician. "Who will sing them, Mr. Gay?" + +"I know not yet; we've settled upon very few things. Our good musician, +Dr. Pepusch, is ready whenever I hand him the verses and the tunes to +set them to. Why, I've not decided the names of the characters, and that +let me tell you, doctor, is no easy matter. I call the first wench Peggy +Peachum, but it doesn't please me. I----" + +At that moment Pope caught sight of his man fidgetting first on one foot +and then on the other. + +"What d'ye want sirrah?" demanded the poet irritably. + +"A young girl, sir, desires to see Mr. Gay. She couldn't tell me her +business with him." + +A roar of laughter was heard, in the midst of which Gay looked puzzled +and a trifle foolish. + +"Oh poor Gay, to think thy light damsels cannot let thee alone but must +follow thee to my pure Eve-less abode," said Pope mockingly. + +"Nay, 'tis nothing of the kind. You accuse me unjustly. I know no light +o' love. To prove it your servant shall bring the girl here and you may +see her for yourself. I've no love secrets." + +"What if you had, man? No one would blame you. Not I for one. Get as +much enjoyment as you can out of life, but not in excess. 'Tis excess +that kills," said Arbuthnot laying his hand on Gay's. + +There was a meaning in the contact which emphasised the doctor's words. +Self indulgence was Gay's failing as all his friends knew. + +"Well--well," rejoined Gay somewhat embarrassed. "Be it so, I--conduct +the girl hither--have I your permission, Mr. Pope?" + +"With all my heart--provided she's worth looking at." + +"I know nothing of her looks. Quick, Stephen, your master and these +gentlemen are impatient." + +The man hastened away to the house and presently was seen crossing the +lawn with Lavinia by his side. + +"'Faith, you've good taste, Mr. Gay," said Arbuthnot with a chuckle. "A +trim built wench, upon my word. And she knows how to walk. She hasn't +the mincing gait of the city madams of the Exchange nor the flaunting +strut of the dames of the Mall or the Piazza." + +Gay made no reply. The girl's carriage and walk were indeed natural and +there was something in both which was familiar to him. But he could not +fix them. He would have to wait until the sheltering hood was raised and +the face revealed. + +This came about when Lavinia was a couple of yards or so from the man. +Gay bent forward and rose slightly from his chair. An expression half +startled, half puzzled stole over his face. + +"Gad! Polly--or am I dreaming?" + +"Lavinia sir," came the demure answer accompanied by a drooping of the +long lashes and a low curtsey. + +"Lavinia of course, but to me always Polly. Gentlemen, this is Miss +Lavinia Fenton, the nightingale I once told you of." + +"Aye," rejoined Pope, "I remember. She was flying wild in the fragrant +groves of St. Giles and you limed her. Good. Now that she's here she +must give us a sample of her powers. I pray that your nightingale, Mr. +Gay, be not really a guinea fowl. Your good nature might easily make you +imagine one to be the other." + +"I protest. You are thinking of yourself. I'll swear you cannot tell the +difference. You put all the music you have into your verse. I doubt if +you could even whistle 'Lillibulero,' though there's not a snub nosed +urchin in his Majesty's kingdom who can't bawl it." + +"That may be, but I can neither whistle nor am I a snub-nosed urchin. I +apologise for my defects," retorted the poet. + +A general laugh followed at this and Gay, somewhat discomfited, turned +to Lavinia. + +"Now, Polly, what has brought you here, child? But looking at you I +doubt if I ought to call you child. 'Tis months since I saw thee and I +vow in that time you've become a young woman." + +"I'm very sorry, sir. I could not help it," said Lavinia meekly. + +"Help it! Faith, no! 'Tis very meritorious of you. But tell me. Has the +admirable Miss Pinwell granted you a holiday, or is it your birthday and +you've come for a present, or what?" + +"Neither the one nor the other, sir. I--I rather think I've left +school." + +"Left school! And without apprising me who am, you know, in a way +sponsor for you? But may be you've written the duchess?" + +Lavinia shook her head and cast down her eyes. + +"Left school," repeated Gay lifting his wig slightly and rubbing his +temple. "Surely--surely you haven't misbehaved and have been expelled. +Miss Pinwell I know is the perfection of prim propriety, but----" + +"Quite true, sir, so she is," burst out Lavinia impetuously, "and I've +done nothing wicked--not really wicked--only silly, but I'm sure Miss +Pinwell wouldn't take me back. You see, sir, I--oh well, I suppose I +must confess I ran away--I meant to return and nobody would have been +the wiser--but things happened that I didn't expect and--and oh, I do +hope you'll forgive me." + +Lavinia's pleading voice quivered. Her eyes were fixed imploringly on +Gay. Tears were glistening in them, the pose of her figure suggested a +delightful penitence. The susceptible poet felt his emotions stirred. + +"Forgive you? But you haven't told me what I am to forgive. You ran +away from school you say. What made you? Had you quarrelled with +anyone?" + +"Oh no--not then--the quarrel was after I left the school." + +"After--hang me if I understand. Whom did you quarrel with?" + +"The--the person I--I ran away with." + +Lavinia's confession was uttered in the softest of whispers. It was +inaudible to anyone save Gay. Her face had suddenly become scarlet. + +"The per--oh, there's a mystery here. Mr. Pope--gentlemen," Gay went on +turning to the others, "will you excuse me if I draw apart with our +young madam. She has propounded to me an enigma which must be solved." + +"And if you fail--as you will if the enigma is a woman's--call us to +thine aid," said Arbuthnot laughingly. + +Gay shook his head and he and Lavinia paced the lawn. + +"It's no use asking you to tell me everything, Polly, because you can't +do it. Your sex never do. You're like spendthrifts who are asked to +disclose all their debts. They always keep the heaviest one back. Tell +me as much or as little as you please or nothing at all, if it likes you +better." + +Lavinia hesitated, and at first her tale was a halting one enough, but +seeing no sign of anger in Gay's amiable countenance, she became more +courageous, and substantially she said all that was necessary to make +her companion acquainted with her list of peccadilloes. + +"Zooks, my young miss," quoth Gay after the solace of a pinch of snuff. +"It seemeth to me that you've begun to flutter your pinions sufficiently +early. Two love affairs on your hands within twenty-four hours. Mighty +fine, upon my word." + +"Oh, but they are _not_ love affairs," protested Lavinia. "I didn't love +Mr. Dorrimore a bit. I never want to see him again. And as for Mr. +Vane, never a word of love has passed between us." + +"Bless your innocence. Are words the only signs of love? Permit me to +inform you, Polly, that I look upon your love adventure with Lancelot +Vane as a much more serious business than your elopement with a +profligate fop." + +"Indeed, it is serious, Mr. Gay. It's worse than serious--it's tragic. +If you could see the wretched place poor Mr. Vane lives in, if you knew +how he is wanting for food----" + +"And drink--is he wanting for that too?" interposed Gay sarcastically. + +Lavinia made no answer. She thought of Lancelot at the Chapter Coffee +House the night before and her face clouded. + +"I'll give you a word of advice, Polly. If you're going to be a nice +woman and want to keep your peace of mind, never fall in love with a +poet, a playwright or indeed any man who takes his pen in hand for a +living." + +"But, sir--aren't you a poet and don't you write plays?" + +"Exactly, and that's why I'm warning you. _Ex uno disce omnes_, which +you may like to know means, we're all tarred with the same brush." + +"And do you drink too much, sir?" inquired Lavinia with an engaging +simplicity. + +"Gad, not oftener than I can help. But we were talking about falling in +love and that has nothing to do with my drinking habits. About Mr. +Vane's--well, that's a different matter. You haven't fallen in love with +me and you have with a clever young man who's going as fast as he can to +the deuce." + +"I don't know, sir, whether you're laughing at me or telling me the +truth, but--Mr. Vane risked his life for me." + +"And to reward him you're thinking of trusting him with yours. A pretty +guardian--a man who can't take care of his own!" + +"Oh, you're wrong, Mr. Gay--indeed, you are. Mr. Vane is nothing to me. +I'm only sorry for him." + +"Of course--of course. That's the first step. You begin by being sorry +for your sweetheart and you end by being sorry for yourself. Well--well, +a woman must go her own way or she wouldn't be a woman. What have you +there?" + +Lavinia was holding out a parcel. + +"'Tis a play, sir, that Mr. Vane has written." + +"And why did he write it? Who asked him? Who wants plays?" + +"I--I don't know," Lavinia stammered dismally. She felt her ardour was +being damped. "Mr. Vane begged me to bring it to you, sir, and I +couldn't refuse, could I? It was this way. I told him you were my +friend--and you are, aren't you?--and he was overjoyed." + +"Overjoyed? What in the name of Heaven about?" + +"Mr. Vane thought that if I took the play to you and asked you to read +it you would be sure to say you would." + +"Mr. Vane had no business to think anything of the kind. Doesn't he know +that nothing in this world can be taken for granted? I've committed the +folly myself too often not to know that placing faith in other people is +vanity and vexation." + +"Yes, sir. But you'll read Mr. Vane's play all the same, won't you?" + +"What a wheedling baggage it is," muttered Gay. + +And he held the parcel and resisted the impulse to give it back to +Lavinia and to tell her that he had neither time nor inclination to read +other men's plays. His own play was sufficient for him at that moment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"I'M FIXED ON POLLY PEACHUM" + + +Lavinia saw she had nearly conquered and cried:--"Let me untie the knot. +I was sure you would not say no." + +Gay was like wax in her hands. He permitted her to snatch the parcel and +attack the knot. Between her deft fingers and pearly teeth she had the +string off and the parcel open in a trice. She held the manuscript under +Gay's nose. He could not help seeing the title, writ large as it was. + +"Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot Vane," he read +with a rueful look. "Mercy on me, Polly, you never told me it was a +tragedy. Oh, this is very--very sad." + +"But Mr. Gay, aren't all tragedies sad?" + +"Oh, I confess some are comic enough in all conscience. But that was not +in my mind. It was that any sane man should waste time in writing a +tragedy. The worst thing about a tragedy is that the playwright's +friends are pestered to read it and audiences tired by sitting it out. +Aren't there tragedies enough in real life without men inventing 'em?" + +"Indeed, I can't say, sir." + +"I suppose not. You're not old enough. Tragedy doesn't come to the young +and when it does they don't understand and perhaps 'tis as well. But +I'll have to humour you or I shall never hear the last of it. Put the +parcel up again and I'll look at the contents at my leisure. Now to a +much more entertaining matter--yourself. Have you practised your +singing? Have you attended to the instructions of your music master? I +doubt it. I'll vow you've often driven the poor man half frantic with +your airs and graces and teasing and that he hasn't had the heart to +chide you." + +"Oh, indeed he has," cried Lavinia, pouting, "though really I haven't +given him cause and yet he was tiresome enough." + +"I dare say. But you must let me hear. I want to be sure the good +duchess hasn't thrown her money away. My friends, too, are curious to +have a taste of your quality. I've told them much about thee. You +mustn't put discredit upon me." + +"No sir, I wouldn't be so ungrateful. What would you have me do?" + +"I want to hear one of your old ballads such as showered pennies and +shillings in your pocket when I've heard you sing in Clare Market and +St. Giles High Street. But first let us go back to Mr. Pope and the +others." + +Lavinia looked a little frightened at the idea of singing before musical +judges who doubtless were accustomed to listen to the great singers at +the King's Theatre--Signor Senesino, Signor Farinalli, Signora Cuzzoni, +Signora Faustina, and may be the accomplished English singer Anastasia +Robinson, albeit she rarely sang in the theatre but mainly in the houses +of her father's noble friends among whom was the Earl of Peterborough, +her future husband. + +Perhaps Gay saw her trepidation, for, said he laughingly: + +"You needn't fear Mr. Pope. He hasn't the least idea what a tune is and +won't know whether you sing well or ill. Dr. Arbuthnot sitting next him +is the kindliest soul in the world, and will make excuses for you if you +squawl as vilely as a cat on the tiles. As for Dr. Pepusch--ah, that's a +different matter. Pepusch is an ugly man and you must do your best to +lessen his ugliness. He's all in all to Mr. Rich when Rich condescends +to let the fiddles and the flutes give the audience a little music. If +you capture Pepusch you may help me." + +"Oh, I'd do that gladly Mr. Gay. Tell me how," cried Lavinia eagerly. + +"Softly--softly, 'tis all in the clouds at present. Pepusch must hear +you sing. Then--but I dare not say more." + +Lavinia surveyed the hard face and the double chin of the musical +director disapprovingly. + +"I don't take to him," said she. "Is he an Englishman?" + +"No--he comes from Germany. Like King George and Queen Caroline." + +Lavinia frowned. + +"Some of the people in St. Giles I've heard call the Royal Family +Hanoverian rats," she exclaimed indignantly, "and those German women who +pocketted everything they could lay their hands upon--the 'Maypole' and +the 'Elephant,' the one because she's so lean and the other because +she's so fat--they're rats too. Fancy the King making them into an +English duchess and countess. 'Tis monstrous. Why----" + +"Hush--hush," interrupted Gay with mock solemnity and placing his finger +on her lips. "You're talking treason within earshot of the 'Maypole,' +otherwise her Grace the Duchess of Kendal. Don't you know that she is a +neighbour of Mr. Pope? Kendal House on the road to Isleworth is but an +easy walk from here." + +"Then I'm sorry for Mr. Pope. I hate the Germans." + +"Oh, then you're a Jacobite and a rebel. If you would retain your pretty +head on your shoulders keep your treason to yourself," laughed Gay. "But +I confess I like the Germans no more than you do. Yet there are +exceptions. Pepusch has made his home here--his country turned him +out--and there's clever Mr. Handel. The English know more about his +music than do his countrymen. I would love to see you, Polly, applauded +in the Duke's Theatre as heartily as was Mr. Handel's opera 'Rinaldo' at +the King's." + +Something significant in Gay's voice and face sent the blood rushing to +Lavinia's cheeks. + +"I applauded!--I at the Duke's! Oh, that will never be." + +"May be not--may be not. But one never knows. A pretty face--a pretty +voice--an air--faith, such gifts may work wonders. But let us keep Mr. +Pope waiting no longer." + +They approached the table beneath the cedar tree. + +"Sir," said Gay with a bow to Pope, "I've prevailed upon my young madam +here to give us a taste of her quality. I trust your twittering birds +won't be provoked to rivalry. Happily their season of song is past." + +"I warn you Mr. Gay, the age of miracles is _not_ past. What if the work +you're toiling at sends the present taste of the town into a +summersault? Would not that be a miracle?" + +"You think then that my 'Beggar's Opera' won't do," broke in Gay, his +face losing a little of its colour. + +"You know my views. It is something unlike anything ever written +before--a leap in the dark. But for Miss's ditty. We're all attention." + +"What shall I sing, sir?" Lavinia whispered to Gay. + +"Anything you like, my child, so long as you acquit yourself to Dr. +Pepusch's satisfaction." + +"But I would love to have your choice too. What of 'My Lodging is on the +Cold Ground?' My music master told me this was the song that made King +Charles fall in love with Mistress Moll Davies. So I learned it." + +"Odso. Of course you did. Then let old Pepusch look out. Nothing could +be better. Aye, it is indeed a sweet tune." + +Lavinia retired a few paces on to the lawn, dropped naturally into a +simple pose and for a minute or two imagined herself back in the streets +where she sang without effort and without any desire to create effect. +She sang the pathetic old air--much better fitted to the words than the +so-called Irish melody of a later date--with delightful artlessness. + +"What think you, doctor?" whispered Gay to Pepusch. "Can you see her as +Polly--not Peggy mind ye--I'm fixed on Polly Peachum." + +"De girl ver goot voice has. But dat one song--it tell me noting. Can +she Haendel sing?" + +"That I know not, but I'll warrant she'll not be a dunce with Purcell. +And you must admit, doctor, that your George Frederick Handel is much +beholden to our Henry Purcell." + +"Vat?" cried Pepusch a little angrily. "Nein--nein. Haendel the greatest +composer of music in de vorld is." + +"I grant you his genius but he comes after Purcell. Have you heard +Purcell's setting of 'Arise, ye subterranean winds?' If not, I'll get +Leveridge to sing it. Has not your Handel helped himself to that? Not +note for note, but in style, in dignity, in expression? Ah, I have you +there. But we mustn't quarrel. You must hear the girl again. Look 'ee +here. Have we not agreed that 'Virgins are like the Fair Flower' in the +first act shall be set to Purcell's 'What shall I do to show how much I +love her?' I would have you play the air and Polly shall sing it." + +"Sing dat air? But it most difficult is. It haf de trills--de +appogiaturas. Has she dem been taught?" + +"You will soon see. For myself I hold not with the Italian style and its +eternal ornament and repetitions." + +"Aha--ha Mistare Gay, I haf _you_ now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell +Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den." + +"Oh, may be--may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here +is my verse. Oblige me with the music." + +During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on +the table. This manuscript was a rough draft of the "Beggar's Opera." +Pepusch had before him the music of a number of tunes, most of them +well known, selected by Gay and himself as suitable for the songs in the +opera. Poet and musician had had repeated differences as to the choice +of melodies but things had now fairly settled down. + +Lavinia meanwhile was watching the proceedings with no little interest +and with not less nervousness. She had heard the talk and saw quite well +that she was about to be put to a severe test. She was to sing something +she had never sung before and possibly written in a style with which she +was unfamiliar. Gay approached her with a sheet of manuscript which he +put into her hand. + +"You did very well, child," said he encouragingly. "But I want you to do +better. Dr. Pepusch will play the music for these verses on the +harpsichord. You must listen closely to the melody and take particular +note of the way he plays it. Then you will sing it. Here are the words +and the music. Study them while the doctor plays." + +Lavinia looked at both in something like dismay. The music being +engraved was plainer than Gay's cramped handwriting. She knew she had +imitative gifts and that most tunes she heard for the first time she +could reproduce exactly. But that was for her own pleasure. She at such +times abandoned herself to the power of music. But for the pleasure of +others and to know that she was being criticised was a different matter. +Already she felt distracted. Could she fix her attention on the music +and think of nothing else? + +There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house +and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the +open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in +an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song. + +The plaintive melody with its well balanced phrasing took Lavinia's +fancy, and absorbed in the music she forgot her audience. She saw how +the words were wedded to the notes and watched where the trills and +graces came in. Pepusch played the air right through; waited a minute or +so and recommenced. + +Lavinia began. She sang like one inspired. Her pure and limpid tones +gave fresh charm to the melody. She never had had any difficulty with +the trill, so flexible was her voice naturally, and the graces which +Purcell had introduced after the fashion of the day were given with +perfect ease. As the final cadence died away the little audience loudly +applauded. Pepusch came out of the house and wagged his head as he +crossed the lawn. His somewhat sour look had vanished. He went up to +Lavinia and patted her shoulder. + +"Dat vas goot, young laty--ver goot," he growled. + +"What did I tell you doctor?" cried Gay exultantly. "Why, she can sing +everything set down for Polly--I pray you don't forget it is to be +Polly--Peachum. She _is_ Polly Peachum. What do you think, Mr. Pope?" + +"Polly Peachum by all means since you will have it so. If an author has +a right to anything it is surely the right to name his offspring as he +will. He need not even consult his wife--if he have one. But though you +call your work an opera Mr. Gay, it is also a play. The songs are not +everything--indeed, Mr. Rich would say they're nothing. Can the girl +act?" + +"She can be taught and I'll swear she'll prove an apt pupil. 'Twill, I +fear, be many months before it is staged. Rich has not made up his mind. +I hear Mr. Huddy who was dispossessed of the Duke's Theatre contemplates +the New Theatre in the Haymarket. I must talk to him. He hasn't yet +found his new company. An indifferent lot of strolling players I'm told +was his old one. Polly probably won't have a singing part but that's of +no great matter just now." + +"You're bound to build castles in the air Mr. Gay," said Dr. Arbuthnot, +taking his churchwarden from his lips. "Suppose you come down to _terra +firma_ for a brief space. The girl is a singer--that cannot be gainsaid. +She may become an actress--good. But now--who is she? Her father--her +mother----" + +"They can hardly be said to exist," broke in Gay. "I will tell you the +story later on. 'Twould but embarrass her to relate it now. The duchess +has been good enough to charge herself with the cost of her keeping--her +schooling and the rest." + +"Oh, that alters the case. If she is a protegee of her grace I need not +say more. Her future is provided for." + +"Why, yes," but Gay spoke in anything but a confident tone. Inwardly he +was troubled at what view Mat Prior's "Kitty" might take of Polly's +escapade. The Duchess might be as wayward as she pleased, but it did not +follow that she would excuse waywardness in another woman. + +Gay turned to Pepusch and the two conversed for some little time, the +upshot of the talk being that Pepusch promised, when the proper time +came, to say to John Rich all he could in favour of Lavinia, always +supposing she had acquired sufficient stage experience. + +This settled, the poet drew near Lavinia who all this time was waiting +and wondering what this new adventure of hers would end in. + +"Now Polly, my dear," said Gay, "if you behave yourself and don't have +any more love affairs----" + +"But did I not tell you, sir, I'd had none," interrupted Lavinia. + +"Yes--yes, I remember quite well. We won't go into the subject again or +we shall never finish. The varieties and nice distinctions of love are +endless. A much more pressing question is nearer to hand--where are you +going to live?" + +"Hannah, my mother's servant--a dear good kind creature--it was through +her I was able to come here--will find me a lodging. I can trust her +but--but----" + +She stopped and much embarrassed, twisted her fingers nervously. + +"I understand. You've but little money." + +"I have none, sir, unfortunately." + +"Well--well--never mind. Here's a guinea." + +"Oh, you're too generous, sir. But I shall pay you back." + +"Don't worry about that. Now go into the house. I will ask Mr. Pope to +tell his housekeeper to give you a dish of tea or a cup of cocoa. +Good-bye. You must let me know where you are living. I may have good +news for you within a few days." + +Lavinia between smiles and tears hurried off after curtseying to the +gentlemen under the cedar tree and on her way across the lawn was met by +the man-servant who took her to the housekeeper's room. The woman had +heard the singing and was full of admiration. She wanted to hear more, +she said, so while the tea was being got ready Lavinia sent her into +thrills of delight by warbling the universal favourite "Cold and Raw." + +After a time came the question of returning to London and how. Lavinia +could have crossed the ferry and so to Richmond and Mortlake, but that +would not help her on the journey unless Giles was going to market, +which was hardly likely. Besides she did not wish to burden him. And +then--there was Lancelot Vane. + +Lancelot, she thought, must be anxious to know the result of her +mission. That result was not so encouraging as she had hoped. True, Mr. +Gay had the precious tragedy in his pocket and had promised to read it, +but his opinion of dramatists generally and his hints concerning +Lancelot Vane's weakness had considerably damped her ardour. In spite of +this, she determined to get to London as quickly as possible and to +hasten to Grub Street that same night. + +"You can catch the Bath coach at Hounslow," said the housekeeper. "It's +but just gone five and the coach be timed to stop at the 'George' at +six, but it's late more often than not." + +"And how far is it to Hounslow?" + +"May be a couple o' miles or so, but it's a bit of a cross road--say two +mile an' a half. Stephen'll put you in the right way." + +"Oh thank you--thank you kindly," cried Lavinia. "But it will be giving +Stephen a deal of trouble. I dare say I can find my way by myself." + +"Oh, you may do that. I should think you were sharp enough, but there +are no end of beggars and rapscallions of all sorts on the Bath road and +some of 'em are bound to wander into the by-ways on the look out for +what they can steal. No, Stephen must see you through the lonely parts." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"I WISH YOU GOOD NIGHT AND MORE SENSE" + + +Lavinia and her protector set out. Stephen was inclined to be garrulous +and Lavinia had not much occasion to put in a word. He entertained her +with choice bits of information, such as how he remembered when the +coach ran between Bath and London only three times a week. + +"But that was nigh twenty years ago. It were Mr. Baldwin as keeps a inn +at Salthill as started to run 'em daily. The coach stops at the Belle +Savage, Ludgate. Be that near where you want to go, miss?" + +"Ludgate Hill? Oh, yes." + +Hounslow in Stephen's opinion was getting to be quite a big place. + +"When I was a boy it hadn't more'n a hundred houses--it's double or +treble that now, but they're pretty well all inns an' ale houses an' +mighty queer ones, some of em are. Hand in glove with highway robbers +an' footpads. Not much good a-tryin' to catch a highwayman if he once +gets to Hounslow. He's only got to run in one of the houses where's he +known an' you might as well try to foller a fox as has darted into a +drain. Some o' them ale houses an' boozin' kens has got passages +a-runnin' one into the other." + +"That's very terrible Mr. Stephen. You quite alarm me," cried Lavinia. + +But she was not so alarmed as she would have been had she been brought +up a fine lady. She had had highwaymen pointed out to her in Drury Lane +and Dyott Street and knew that the majority were boasting, bragging +fellows and cowards at heart. But there were others of a different +quality who did their robberies with quite a gentlemanly air. + +They took the way through Whitton Park. As the housekeeper said, the +journey was cross-country so far as roads were concerned, but Stephen +knew the short cuts and they reached the long, straggling, mean-looking +Hounslow High Street--the future town was at that time little more than +a street--at about a quarter to six. + +They entered the "George"--a house of greater pretensions than the +rest--and Lavinia found she was in plenty of time for the London coach. + +"She'll be late," said the landlord. "A chap as just come in says he +rode past her t'other side o' the heath an' she was stuck fast on a +nasty bit o' boggy road and one o' the leaders--a jibber--wouldn't stir +a step for whip or curses." + +"That's bad," said Stephen. "Still it would ha' been far worse if some +o' them High Toby gentry had stopped the coach." + +"Aye," rejoined the landlord dropping his voice. "We had a fellow o' +that sort in about half an hour ago. He was on a mare as wiry an' +springy as could be, could clear a pike gate like a wild cat I'll bet. I +didn't like the scoundrel's phizog and I'll swear he didn't want to know +for naught what time the London coach passed the George. I wouldn't +wonder if he was hanging about Smallbury Green at this 'ere very minute. +But don't 'ee let the young leddy know this. She might be afeared, an' +after all I may be wrong." + +Stephen nodded. + +"The High Toby gen'elmen are gettin' monstrous darin'. I'm told as +they've been stickin' up bills on the park gates of the Quality +a-warnin' their lordships not to travel with less than ten guineas in +their pocket an' a gold watch an' chain, on pain o' death. What think +'ee o' that for downright brazenness?" + +Stephen could only raise his hands deprecatingly, but as Lavinia was +drawing near him he made no reply. + +"I've booked my seat," said she, "so please don't stay any longer. I'm +quite safe now and all I have to do is to wait for the coach. Thank you +kindly for coming with me." + +"Ye're quite welcome, miss. I don't know as I can be of more sarvice, so +I'll get back to Twitenham. I wish 'ee a pleasant journey to London." + +Lavinia again thanked him, Stephen departed and Lavinia prepared herself +to exercise what patience she possessed. And well she needed patience +for it was past eight and quite dark before the coach appeared at little +more than a walking pace. Then the horses had to be changed, the +coachman roundly anathematising the sinning jibber as the brute was led +in disgrace to the stables; the passengers descended to refresh +themselves and so nearly another hour was wasted. + +At last all was ready. Lavinia had booked an inside place and found that +her only fellow passenger was a gouty old gentleman who had been taking +the waters at Bath. The outside passengers were but few, a woman and a +couple of men. + +Hounslow was left behind and in due time they entered the road across +Smallbury Green, beyond which was Brentford. The travelling was very bad +and the coach on its leather hangings swung about in all directions. The +conversation--if conversation it could be called--consisted of +fragmentary ejaculations of mingled pain and annoyance from the old +gentleman when his gouty foot was jerked against some part of the coach. + +They had not passed over the Green when the clatter of a galloping horse +was heard and almost immediately the coach was pulled up. + +"Body o' me," cried the old gentleman in dismay. "What's happened?" + +He had an answer in a very few seconds. A big pistol, its barrel +gleaming in the moonlight, was thrust through the coach window and +behind the pistol was a masked horseman. + +"A thousand apologies for putting your lordship to such inconvenience," +growled the highwayman with affected humility. "I'm sure your lordship +has too much sense not to perceive the force of an argument which you +will own is entirely on my side." + +And he advanced the muzzle of the pistol a little nearer the head of the +old gentleman and then came an unpleasant click. + +"What d'ye want, you scoundrel?" stammered the victim. + +"Nay, a little more politeness, if you please. I simply want your watch +and chain, the rings on your fingers and any money you may chance to +have about you--gold in preference. Permit me to add that if you don't +turn out your pockets before I count ten I shall put a bullet in your +skull first and do the searching myself afterwards." + +This command, uttered in fierce threatening tones, brought the unlucky +gentleman from Bath to book at once. Trembling, he turned out his +pockets and a number of guineas fell beside him on the seat. The +highwayman grabbed them at once. + +"Your lordship is most generous and complaisant. Now for your trinkets. +Quick! Time is of great importance." + +All the valuables the old gentleman possessed were yielded and pocketted +rapidly by the highwayman. + +"Thanks, my lord, for a most agreeable interview. I trust your lordship +will reach your journey's end without further mishap." + +Then to Lavinia's terror the highwayman turned towards her. She shrank +into her corner of the coach. + +"Pray don't be alarmed, madam. I never rob women unless they tempt me +very much. Some are so foolish as to wear all the gewgaws they possess. +But you have more sense I see. Yet a diamond would vastly set off the +whiteness of that pretty little hand. Your gallant must be very dull not +to have ornamented your charming fingers." + +In spite of the man's fair words Lavinia's terror was not diminished. +His eyes glinted savagely through the holes of his mask and a mocking +note in his raucous voice plainly sounded an insincerity. Apart from +this there was something in his voice which was strangely, disagreeably +familiar, but she was too agitated just then to try to trace the +association. + +The highwayman stared at her for some few seconds without speaking, then +his coarse, wide lips, which the mask did not come low enough to +conceal, parted in a grin showing big yellow, uneven teeth and an ugly +gap in the lower jaw where two of the front teeth had once been. + +"Adieu, madam. Let us hope we shall meet again under happier +circumstances." + +And wheeling round his horse he took off his hat with a sweeping bow. +Then he set out at a gallop and did not draw rein until he reached the +"Red Cow" at Hammersmith. Apparently he was well-known, for in response +to his shout an ostler ran from the yard and at his imperious order took +his horse to the stables. Then the highwayman strode into the bar +parlour. + +His mask, of course, was now removed, and the features were revealed of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash. + +Here he sat drinking until the rumble of the London coach was heard. +Then he quitted the bar and went to the stable, where he remained during +the stay of the coach which occupied some little time, for the story of +the highway robbery had to be told. + +No one about the inn was in the least surprised. Highwaymen haunted +Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and had the landlord of the "Red Cow" +chosen to open his mouth he might have thrown a little light upon the +man who had stopped the Bath coach. + +Once more the coach was on its way and following it went Captain +Rofflash, dogging it to its destination at the Belle Savage. He watched +Lavinia alight and wherever she went he went too. Could she have +listened to what he was saying she would have heard the words:-- + +"By gad, it's the very wench. I'll swear 'tis. Perish me if this isn't +the best day's work I've done for many a day. If I don't make Mr. +Archibald Dorrimore fork out fifty guineas my name isn't Jeremy +Rofflash." + +Shortly after Lavinia set out on her way to Grub Street. Lancelot Vane +was pacing Moor Fields--a depressing tract of land, the grass trodden +down here and there into bare patches, thanks to the games of the London +'prentices and gambols of children--in company with Edmund Curll, the +most scurrilous and audacious of writers and booksellers who looked upon +standing on the pillory, which he had had to do more than once, more as +a splendid form of advertisement than as a degradation. + +"You can write what I want if you chose--no man better," he was saying. +Vane was listening not altogether attentively. His thoughts were +elsewhere. + +"And supposing I don't choose." + +"Then you'll be an arrant fool," sneered Curll angrily. "You're out at +elbows. You haven't a penny to bless yourself with. You don't eat, but +you can always drink provided you run across a friend who by chance has +some money in his pocket. What'll be the end of it all? You'll go +down--down among the dregs of Grub Street and you'll never rise again." + +"Not so, Mr. Curll," cried Vane hotly. "I've great hopes. I've a +tragedy----" + +"A tragedy! _That_ for your tragedy." + +Curll snapped his fingers scornfully. + +"Why, my young friend, supposing you get your tragedy staged, it will be +played one night--if extraordinarily successful two nights, or three at +the most. What do you think you will get out of it? Nothing. But perhaps +you fancy yourself a Congreve or a Farquhar?" + +"Neither Congreve nor Farquhar wrote tragedies, sir," retorted Vane +stiffly. + +"Indeed! What about Mr. Congreve's 'Mourning Bride?'" + +"I prefer his comedies, sir." + +"And so do I, but that's nothing to the point. May be you consider that +you're equal to Mr. Otway or even Mr. Cibber, I leave Mr. Gay out of the +count. He's written nothing that's likely to live and never will. He's +too lazy." + +"You dislike Mr. Gay, 'tis well known, because he's Mr. Pope's friend. I +do not and that's my objection to writing for you. I doubt not you would +ask me to attack the most talented men of the age simply because you +hate them or you want to air some grievance." + +"You're wrong. I do it to sell my books and put money in my pocket. If +you write for me you won't be called upon to express your own opinions. +All you have to do is to express mine and keep your body and soul +together comfortably. You can't do that now and the two'll part company +before long unless you alter. You were not so squeamish last night at +the Chapter Coffee House." + +"There was a reason for that. I was full of wine and hardly knew what I +was saying." + +"I'll warrant you didn't. That same wine, let me tell you, will be your +undoing. Now that your head is clear you'd better think over my offer. +It will at least provide you with a more decent coat and wig than those +you're wearing. A young man should dress smartly. What's his life worth +to him unless women look kindly upon him? Do you expect they care for a +shabby gallant?" + +Vane was silent. Some of Curll's words had gone home. + +"I'll think it over," said he at last. + +"That's right. Think over it and if you're in love, as you ought to be, +ask your girl if I'm not right. Have a night's consideration and come +and see me to-morrow. I wish you good-night and--more sense." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"A MAN SHOULD FIGHT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD" + + +Vane left alone, strolled onward moodily, his eyes bent on the ground. + +"In love, as I ought to be, said that scoundrel," he was muttering. "How +does he know I'm not? But what's the good? Faith, I believe I'm the +poorest devil in London and the unluckiest. Some people would say that +it is my own fault and that I've no need to be. Anyhow, my worthy father +would hold that view. I doubt if he'd kill the fatted calf if I went +back to him.... Go back! I'd rather go to the devil to whose tender +mercies he consigned me. Well, let it be so.... I've had some of the +joys of life--though maybe I've also had a good slice of its +disappointments.... It was worth being poor to have the pity of that +dear delightful girl.... God, what eyes! How sweet the tones of her +voice! I feel I love every hair of her pretty head. But to what purpose? +She's not for me. She never could be. Yet--well I shall see her again. +That's a joy to live for ... anyway. But it's too late to expect her +now. There's nothing left but to dream of her." + +While thus soliloquising, kicking the pebbles as an accompaniment to his +thoughts, Vane neared the corner of Moor Fields leading to Cripples Gate +and was pounced upon by a couple of noisy fellows, friends of his, who, +newly sprung with wine, would have him go with them to the "Bear and +Staff" close to the Gate. + +"No--no," protested Vane, "I'm not in the mood." + +"The very reason why you should drink," quoth one. + +"But I've sworn not to touch a drop of anything stronger than coffee or +chocolate for a week. I had too much port last night." + +"Worse and worse. Hang it man, whatever you may have been at Oxford +University you are no disputant now. Your resolution to be virtuous for +a week won't last a day unless you strengthen it. And what strengthens +the wit more than wine?" + +"Get thee gone Satan. I'm not to be tempted by a paradox." + +Vane did not speak with conviction. His spirits were low. Curll's offer +was worrying him. To be in the service of such a man, whose personal +character was as infamous as some of the books he published, was a +humiliation. It meant the prostitution of his faculties. He shuddered at +the prospect of becoming one of Curll's slaves to some of whom he paid a +mere pittance and who were sunk so low they had no alternative but to do +his bidding. + +Meanwhile the second man had thrust his arm within Vane's and had led +him along a few paces, when suddenly the imprisoned arm was withdrawn +and Vane pulled himself up. He had caught sight of a Nithsdale cloak +with the face he had been dreaming about all day peeping from beneath +the hood. + +"Jarvis--Compton--let me go," he exclaimed, "another time." + +He violently wrenched himself free. They followed his eyes and +instinctively guessed the reason of his objection. The figure in the +cloak had turned but there was an unmistakeable suggestion of lingering +in her attitude. + +"Man alive," laughed Jarvis, "your argument's unanswerable. We give you +best. Woman has conquered as she always does. Good luck." + +Vane did not stay to listen to the banter of his friends but hastened +towards the cloak. + +"You're my good angel," he whispered holding out both his hands. + +"I'm afraid I've come at a wrong moment. I'm taking you from your +friends," said the girl in the cloak a little coldly. + +"You're offended. Pray forgive me if I've done anything wrong." + +"Not to me. Perhaps to yourself. But I ought not to say ... no, what you +do is nothing to me." + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"Why not? You know it as well as I do--may be better." + +"Indeed, I don't. Forgive me if I've allowed myself to think that I was +of some interest to you. Of course I was foolish to have such fancies. +Still, you've been so kind.... I hardly like to ask you if you have seen +Mr. Gay ... and ... and ... my tragedy...." + +Vane could not conceal his agitation. Lavinia took pity on him and her +manner softened in that subtle inexplicable way which women have. + +"Yes, I've seen him and I gave him your play." + +"Ah, I can never thank you sufficiently. And what did he say?" + +"He put the play in his pocket and promised to read it. He could not do +any more, could he?" Lavinia quickly added seeing disappointment written +in the young dramatist's face. + +"No, indeed. But did he give hopes that he would speak to Mr. Rich at +the Duke's Theatre or to Mr. Cibber at Drury Lane?" + +"I don't think he did. I can't remember. He told me he was himself +writing a play--an opera--but he was not sanguine he should get it +performed." + +"An opera? It is a waste of time. Operas are written by foreigners and +the music and the singers are foreign too. What do the English care +about operas written in their own tongue? It's not wonderful that Mr. +Gay should be doubtful. Now a tragedy is a different thing. That's +something everybody understands!" + +"Do they? I fear then I'm very stupid. I saw a tragedy once and I'm not +sure I knew what it was about. The people on the stage made such long +speeches to each other they tired me to death. But I'm sure yours would +not be like that." + +"Ah, you say that because you want to put me in good heart. We'll talk +no more about it, nor about myself either." + +"Oh, but I do want to talk about you. I've something to say and I don't +know how to say it without hurting you," said Lavinia, hesitatingly. + +"You don't mean you're going to bid me good-bye?" he burst out. "I won't +say _that_. You're the only one I've ever met who's encouraged me out of +pure good nature. When I've had money to spend on them, friends have +sought me out fawning and flattering. After they'd emptied my purse they +vanished." + +"Yes, yes, and that's why I want to talk to you. Aren't you easily led +to take too much wine?" + +"Perhaps--perhaps, but no more than other men." + +"I hope so, at least not more than the men I saw you with last night." + +"You saw me! Where?" + +"In a coffee house near St. Paul's. The man who left you a few minutes +ago was making you drink and the others were helping him. Your glass was +never empty save when you yourself had emptied it. I don't like that +white-faced squinting man. His voice is horrid. His vulgar talk--oh, it +made me put my fingers to my ears and run out of the house. He doesn't +mean you well." + +"I--I like him no more than you," stammered Vane. "But he wants me to +write for him. It would put money in my pocket. How could I refuse to +drink with him?" + +"Why not? He would not employ you if he did not think it was to his own +good. And have you promised?" + +"No--not yet. He was persuading me just now but I've not consented." + +"Then don't. He's a bad, a wicked man I feel sure. Have nothing to do +with him." + +"I swear to you I've no desire. But a penniless scribbler has no choice +if he has to live--that is if life be worth living, which I sometimes +doubt." + +"You shouldn't think like that. It's cowardly. A man should fight his +way through the world. Now a woman...." + +"She's armed better than a man. Her charm--her beauty--her wit. Nature +bestows on her all conquering weapons." + +"Which she as often as not misuses and turns against herself. But Mr. +Vane," the note of bitterness had vanished; her voice was now earnest, +almost grave, "you weren't despondent when you were facing an angry mob +after doing me a service I shall never forget. You underrate yourself." + +"Oh, I admit that when alone I'm like a boat at the mercy of wind and +wave, but with some one to inspire--to guide--bah, 'tis useless talking +of the unattainable." + +Vane uttered the last words in a reckless tone and with a shrug of the +shoulders. His eyes gazed yearningly, despairingly into hers, and there +had never been a time in Lavinia's life when she was less able to +withstand a wave of heartfelt emotion. + +Her nerves at that moment were terribly unstrung. She had had a most +exhausting day lasting from early dawn. The strain of the trying +interview at Twickenham; the anxious ordeal of singing before such +supreme judges as she deemed them; the jubilation of success and the +praise they had bestowed upon her, and Gay's promises as to her future +had turned her brain for the time being. Then the episode of the +highwayman--that in itself was sufficiently disturbing. + +As a matter of fact the girl's strength was ebbing fast when she reached +Moor Fields, but she nerved herself to go on, confident of her reward in +relieving the young author's anxiety and his joy at the success--up to a +point--of her errand. Things had not quite turned out as she had +pictured them. The sight of the coarse speeched, malevolent-looking man +with his squinting eye and unhealthy complexion, brought back the scene +of the night before which she would willingly have forgotten, and down +went her spirits to zero. + +While she had been talking with Vane her heart was fluttering strangely. +She had eaten nothing since she had left Twickenham and she was +conscious of a weakness, of a trembling of the limbs. That passionate, +yearning look in Vane's eyes had aroused an excess of tenderness towards +him which overwhelmed her. She suddenly turned dizzy. She swooned. + +When consciousness came back she was in his arms. He was as tremulous as +she and was looking at her pallid face with eyes of terror--a terror +which disappeared instantly when he saw life returning. + +"My God," he cried, "I thought you were dead. I'd have killed myself had +it been so." + +Lavinia gazed at him mutely. It was pleasant to have his arms round her, +and the feel of them gave her a sense of peace and rest. In her fancy +she had gone through an interminable period of oblivion--in reality it +was but a few seconds--and the struggle into life was painful. But she +was strengthened by his vitality and she gently withdrew herself from +his embrace, smoothed her hair and drew forward her hood which had +fallen back. Despite her pallor, or may be because of it, she never +looked more fascinating than at that moment with her hair tumbled, her +large dreamy eyes, and the delicious languor so charmingly suggestive of +helplessness, and of an appeal to him for protection. + +"Are you better?" he whispered anxiously. + +"Yes, thank you. It was very silly to faint. I don't know what made me." + +"Take my arm; do, please. Why, you can hardly stand." + +It was true, and the arm which went round her waist was not wholly +unnecessary. She submitted without protest and they slowly walked a few +paces. + +"Though it's hard to part from you 'tis best you should get home +quickly. Have you far to go? Shall I call a coach?" + +These pertinent questions threw the girl into a sudden state of +confusion. She had no home. She had but little money, for Gay's guinea +was nearly gone after she had paid her fare from Hounslow and the +incidental expenses of the journey. But she dared not say as much to her +companion. He thought her a fine lady. It might be wise to keep him in +this mind. If he knew she was as poor as he, there would be an end to +the pleasure of helping him. She felt sure he would accept nothing more +from her. + +What was she to say? She could think of nothing. She felt bewildered. +At the same time the effort to face the difficulty did her good. It +revived her energy. + +"Indeed there's no necessity for me to ride. I can walk quite well and +it is but a little distance to my home. You may see me across the fields +if you will and then we will say good-night." + +"I'd better walk with you beyond the fields," he urged. "The streets are +just as dangerous for you as this desolate place." + +"Oh no. There are sure to be plenty of people about! You shall go as far +as Cheapside, but not a step further." + +Vane accepted the compromise, but when Cheapside was reached it was full +of a noisy throng and most of the crowd, both men and women, were the +worse for drink. He easily overcame her protest that she could proceed +alone and they went on to St. Paul's. Here it was comparatively quiet, +and she flatly refused to permit him to accompany her beyond the +Cathedral. + +They passed the Chapter coffee house. Lavinia's thoughts reverted to her +warning to Vane on Moor Fields. + +"You've not given me your promise to have nothing to do with that man--I +don't know his name and I don't want to--who made you drink too much +last night in there." + +"I'll promise you anything," he cried pressing the arm which was within +his. + +"Thank you, but that's not all. Swear that you will never drink too much +again. It makes me sad." + +"On my honour I never will. I'd rather die than hurt you by word or +deed." + +"Are you sure?" she returned with more concern in her voice than she +suspected. + +"Sure? If I don't keep my word I should fear to face your anger." + +"I shouldn't be angry, only sorry." + +"I'd rather have your anger than your pity. I might pacify the first but +the second--while you are pitying me you might also despise me. I could +never endure that." + +His voice trembled with genuine emotion. Lavinia put out her hand and he +caught it eagerly and raised it to his lips. + +"You've made me happy," he cried, "you've given me fresh hope. I'll +promise you all you've asked. You must promise me one thing in return. I +can't lose sight of you. It would be eternal torment. When and where +shall we meet?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps not at all," said Lavinia slowly and lowering her +eyes. + +"Don't say that. I've told you why. Not at my miserable lodgings, I +grant you, but at some other place. What say you to Rosamond's Pond?" + +Lavinia darted him a swift glance. The ghost of a smile played about her +lips. + +"The Lovers' Walk of London! Oh, no." + +"But indeed yes. What have you to say against Rosamond's Pond? Its +reputation justifies its romance." + +"Neither its reputation nor its romance has anything to do with us." + +"That is as it may be," he rejoined with an ardent glance. "But you +haven't said no. Rosamond's Pond then to-morrow at sunset--seven +o'clock?" + +Lavinia was too exhausted in mind and body either to refuse or even to +argue. She felt as she had felt many a time in her childhood that she +was simply a waif and stray. Nothing mattered very much. It was easier +to consent than to object. + +"To-morrow at sunset," she faltered. + +"It's a bargain," he whispered. "You won't disappoint me?" + +"Haven't I given you my word? What more do you want?" + +She held out her hand and he pressed it between both his, his eyes fixed +earnestly on her face. + +"I don't like leaving you," he pleaded. "You're pale. Your hand's cold. +You look as if you might faint again. Please ..." + +"No--no--no," exclaimed Lavinia vehemently. "We must part here. +Good-night." + +Vane was loth to let her hand go but she snatched it away and ran off, +turning her head and throwing him a smile over her shoulder--a picture +of natural grace and charming womanly wile and tenderness which dwelt in +his memory for many a long day. + +Vane stood watching the fleeting figure until it vanished in the +obscurity of Ludgate Hill and then with a deep sigh turned towards +Cheapside. + +"That settles it. I won't write a line for that rascal Curll. I've +promised my divinity and by God, I'll keep my promise." + +But the next instant came the dismal reflection that apart from Curll he +hadn't the slightest notion where his next shilling was to come from. + +"Tush! I won't think of the dolefuls," he muttered. "'Tis an insult to +the loveliest--the kindest--the warmest hearted--the ..." + +He suddenly ceased his panegyric and wheeled round swiftly, his hand on +the hilt of his sword. + +Absorbed though he had been in his thoughts of Lavinia, in some +sub-conscious way the sound of footsteps behind him keeping pace with +his own reached his ear. It was no unusual thing for foot passengers to +be set upon and Vane was on the alert. His suspicions were confirmed by +the sight of a man cloaked and with his slouch hat pulled over his +forehead gliding into a narrow passage leading into Paternoster Row. + +"Just as well, my friend, you've taken to your heels. I've nothing to +lose and you'd have nothing to gain, save may be a sword thrust." + +Congratulating himself on his escape from what might have been an ugly +encounter, Vane plodded back to Grub Street. He lingered in front of a +Cripples' Gate tavern where he knew he should find some of his friends, +but he thought of Lavinia's words and he resisted temptation. That night +he did that which with him was a rarity--he went to bed sober. + +He had forgotten the cloaked man whom he had taken for an ordinary +footpad. The fellow must have altered his mind if his intention was to +follow Vane. No sooner was the latter past the passage than he darted +back into St. Paul's Churchyard and hastened westward. He overtook +Lavinia just as she was turning into the Old Bailey and cautiously +followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"THEY'RE TO MEET AT ROSAMOND'S POND" + + +A masquerade was in full swing at a mansion in Leicester Square. The air +of the ball-room was hot and stuffy. Ventilation was a thing of little +account. The light, albeit there were a hundred candles or so in the +sconces, on the panelled walls, and in the chandelier hanging from the +decorated ceiling, and despite the assiduous snuffing by the servants, +was dim. The subdued illumination was not without its advantage. It was +merciful to the painted faces and softened the crudity of their raw +colouring. A mixture of odours offended the nostrils. Powder came off in +clouds, not only from the hair of the belles but also from the wigs of +the beaux. Its peculiar scent mingled with a dozen varieties of the +strong perfumes in vogue, and the combination was punctuated by a dash +of oil from a smoky lamp or two in the vestibule and an occasional waft +of burnt tallow and pitch from the torches of the link boys outside. + +The masquerade was public and the company was mixed. The establishment +provided punch, strong waters and cordials and some of the visitors had +indulged themselves without scruple. The effect was seen in the cheeks +of matrons and damsels where they were not daubed. It added brilliancy +to many an eye--it gave a piquancy and freedom to talk, greatly +appreciated by the gallants. As for the dancing, in that crowded room +owing to the space monopolised by the prodigious hoops and the general +exhilaration, the stately minuet and sarabande were out of the question, +and the jig and country dance were much more in favour. + +In a side room cards and dicing were going on and the gamblers were not +to be drawn from the tables while they had money in their pockets. Most +of them were women, and when the grey dawn came stealing between the +curtains of the long narrow windows, overpowering the candlelight and +turning it of a pale sickly yellow, the players were still seated, with +feverish hands, haggard faces and hawk-like eyes, pursuing their race +after excitement. A silence had come over the party. The play was high +and the gamesters too absorbed to note anything but the game. From the +ball-room came the sound of violin, flute and harpsichord, shrieks of +shrill laughter, oaths from drunken wranglers and the continual thump of +feet. + +Then the servants brought in coffee, extinguished the candles and drew +back the curtains. + +"Good lord, we're more like a party of painted corpses than creatures of +flesh and blood," cried a lady with excessively rouged cheeks, bright +bird-like eyes and a long, thin hooked nose. "I declare positively I'll +play no more. Besides the luck's all one way, but 'tis not my fault. I +don't want to win every time." + +"How generous--how thoughtful of your ladyship," sarcastically remarked +a handsome woman on the other side of the table. + +"What do you mean, madam?" fiercely inquired the first speaker who was +now standing. + +"Oh, nothing madam," was the retort accompanied by a curtsey of mock +humility. "Everybody knows Lady Anastasia's pleasant way of drawing off +when she has won and the luck's beginning to turn against her." + +"I despise your insinuations madam," loftily replied Lady Anastasia, her +face where it was not rouged turning the colour of putty. "So common a +creature as Mistress Salisbury--I prefer not to soil my lips by +addressing you as _Sally_ Salisbury--I think that is the name by which +you are best known among the Cheapside 'prentices and my lord's +lackeys--ought to feel vastly honoured by being permitted to sit at the +same table with a woman of my rank." + +"Your _rank_? Indeed, you're quite right. It _is_ rank. Foh!" + +The handsome face was expressive of contemptuous abhorrence and her +gesture emphasised the expression. Lady Anastasia was goaded to fury. + +"Why, you impudent, brazen-faced Drury Lane trull! A month at Bridewell +would do you good, you----" + +Her ladyship's vocabulary of abuse was pretty extensive but it was cut +short. A dice box with the ivories inside flew across the table hurled +with the full strength of a vigorous shapely arm. This was Sally +Salisbury's retort. A corner of a dice cut the lady's lip and a drop of +blood trickled on to her chin. + +Beyond herself with rage, Lady Anastasia seized a wine glass--a somewhat +dangerous projectile, for the wine glasses of the time were large and +thick and heavy--and would have dashed it at her antagonist but one of +the players, a man, grasped her wrist and held it. + +"Let her ladyship have her chance. She's entitled to it. A duel at a +masquerade between two women of fashion! Why, it'll be the talk of the +town for a whole week," and Sally Salisbury laughed derisively. + +But so vulgar a _fracas_ was not to the taste of Lady Anastasia's +friends, besides which the attendants were alarmed and ran to prevent +further disturbance. They abstained, however, from interfering with +Sally Salisbury. Her ungovernable temper and her fear of nothing were +well known. If she once let herself go there was no telling where she +would stop. At this moment, however, her temper was under perfect +control and indeed she was rather enjoying herself. + +She rose, pushed away her chair with a backward kick to give room for +her ample hoops, and curtseying low to the company marched out of the +room without so much as a glance at her rival who was on the verge of +hysterics. + +Mistress Salisbury entered the ball-room, now tenanted by the dregs of +the company most of them more or less stupefied or excited, according to +their temperaments, by drink. In one corner was a young man whose richly +embroidered silk coat of a pale lavender was streaked with wine, whose +ruffles were torn and whose wig was awry. To him was talking in a thick +growling bass a man arrayed in a costume hardly befitting a ball-room, +unless indeed he wore it as a fancy dress. But his evil face, dark, +dirty, and inflamed by deep potations, the line of an old scar extending +from the corner of his mouth almost to his ear showing white against the +purple of his bloated cheek forbade this supposition. + +Captain Jeremy Rofflash in point of fact was very drunk. He had for the +last three or four hours been industriously engaged in getting rid of +some of the guineas of the old gentleman from Bath, in a boozing ken in +Whitefriars. Seasoned toper as he was he could carry his liquor without +it interfering with his head. About the effect on his legs he was not +quite so sure and at that moment his body was swaying ominously, but +thanks to his clutching a high backed chair he maintained his +equilibrium fairly well. + +"Idiot," snarled the young gentleman whose temper inebriation had +soured, "why the devil didn't you come here earlier? The coup might have +been brought off to-night. Gad, I want rousing. I'm just in the mood, +and the sight of that pretty, saucy, baggage--oh, you're a damned fool, +Rofflash!" + +"If Mr. Dorrimore will condescend to await my explanation," swaggered +Rofflash with drunken dignity, "he will admit that I've done nothing +foolish--nothing not permissible to a man of honour." + +"Devil take your honour." + +"Granted sir. The subject is not under discussion at the present moment. +Now, sir, what happened? As I've already informed you, I came across the +young poppinjay and the girl sweethearting on Moor Fields. She was in +his arms...." + +"In his arms! S'death! I'll run the impudent upstart through for that. +The girl's mine, by God. Where's the fellow to be found?" + +"All in good time, sir. Have a little patience. Aye, she was in his arms +but it's only fair to say that she had gone into a swoon." + +"A swoon? What the devil made her swoon? She's never swooned in _my_ +arms and I've clipped her close enough. She giggled and tittered I grant +you, but never the ghost of a swoon." + +"There's no rule for the mad humour of a woman, as you must know, Mr. +Dorrimore." + +"But swooning--that's a sign she was in earnest. She was never in +earnest with me--just a hoyden asking to be won." + +"I crave your honour's pardon. The girl was in earnest enough when she +smashed your carriage window with the heel of her shoe and leaped out +like a young filly clearing a five barred gate." + +"Pest! Don't remind me of that. It makes me sick when I think how I was +fooled and that you were such an ass as to let her slip." + +"Sir, I did my best and but for the spark who had the impudence to +thrust his nose into what didn't concern him, I'd have had her safe. But +I've made amends. I've run her to earth." + +"Satan's helped you then. Where is she?" + +"At her mother's house in the Old Bailey." + +"That's a lie." + +"Sir!" + +"I tell you it's a lie. Her mother visited me at my chambers yesterday. +She'd got the story pat of Lavinia's running away with me from school +and all the rest of it. The old woman's not much better than Mother +Needham. Faith, she's a shade worse. She agreed to let me have the girl +for fifty guineas. She'd got the chit locked up she said. I went to her +Old Bailey hovel to-day--gad, I've got the smell of the cooked meats and +boiled greens in my nostrils at this minute--and damn it, she said the +girl had run away. And now you tell me she's there." + +"I do, sir. With these eyes which I flatter myself don't often mistake +when they rest on a well turned ankle, a trim waist and a pretty face. I +swear I saw her go into the house." + +"Ecod, I suppose I must believe you," rejoined Dorrimore sullenly. "But +what do you make of it all? Did the old woman lie?" + +"Without a doubt she did. If she's of Mother Needham's tribe she can lie +like truth. Lies are half of the trade and the other half is to squeeze +the cull of as much gold as he can be fooled out of. Can't you see sir, +that her trick is to spring her price? I'll wager her fifty guineas has +swollen to a hundred when next you see her. With traffickers in virgins +the price grows as rapidly as Jonah's gourd." + +"Aye, it may be so. Well, what then? Have you got a plan?" + +Captain Jeremy Rofflash placed a dirty forefinger by the side of his +nose, slowly closed one eye and a greasy smile widened his thick, red +moist lips. + +"Have I a plan, sir? Trust Jeremy Rofflash for that. By God, sir, I'll +swear there's no man in the world readier with a plan when its wanted. +Look ye here, Mr. Dorrimore, I've the whole thing cut and dried in the +hollow of my hand. To come to the point. The old harridan means to +fleece you. _I_ don't. Damme sir, I'm a man of my word. For a hundred +guineas I'll let you into a secret and if I fail I won't ask you for a +stiver. Is that fair or isn't it?" + +"I'll swear you're no better than Mother Fenton, but I'd rather deal +with a man than a woman. Done with you for a hundred. Say on." + +"It's just this. I was within earshot when the loving pair were in +Paul's Churchyard. They're to meet at Rosamond's Pond to-morrow evening +at seven. Now what's to prevent you being beforehand with the spark? The +park's lonely enough for our purpose and you have but to have your coach +ready and a man or two. A gag whipped over her mouth and we'll have her +inside the coach within a second and not a soul be the wiser." + +"Sounds mighty well, faith. But will she come? What of her mother? Will +the woman trust her out of sight?" + +"I'll back a wench against her dam for a thousand guineas if she's set +her heart on a man. Odds bodikins, if she comes not you won't lose. _I_ +shall and it'll be the devil's own bad luck. No have, no pay. D'ye see +that my young squire?" + +Dorrimore could offer no contradiction. All that remained to be +discussed was what would follow supposing fortune favoured them, and +they subsided into a whispered conference which was after a time +interrupted by some of Dorrimore's boon companions, who carried him off +to a wild revelry in the Covent Garden taverns with the last hour at the +"Finish," the tavern of ill-repute on the south side of the market. + +Rofflash would have accompanied the party but that a hand was laid on +his arm and a masked lady whispered:-- + +"One moment, captain, I want you." + +He turned. He recognised the speaker by the lower part of her face, the +round, somewhat prominent chin, the imperious mouth with its sensual +lower lip, the bold sweeping contour from the chin to the ear. + +"Sally Salisbury--the devil!" he ejaculated. + +"Not quite, but a near relative may be," rejoined Sally with a sarcastic +laugh. "Who's the spark you're so thick with?" + +"The fool who's mad to get hold of the prettiest wench in town--Lavinia +Fenton." + +"That little trollop! I hate the creature. But there's no need to talk +of her. What of the man I paid you to track? Have you found him?" + +Rofflash watched her face, what he could see of it, for she had not +unmasked, and noted the slight quiver of the lips and the rise and fall +of her bosom. + +"Faith mistress," he chuckled with a drunken leer, "if you're not as +crazy over the beggarly scribbler as my young gallant is over the Fenton +girl who lives in the Old Bailey--at a coffee house, forsooth! Why, to +see the pother you're in one would think the hussy had put your nose out +of joint. Perhaps she has. She's fetching enough." + +Sally seized the captain's arm with a vigorous grip that showed the +intensity of her feelings. He winced and muttered an oath. + +"S'life," he burst out, "save your nails for the girl who's cut you out +with the scribbler." + +"She? You lie. What has he to do with the minx?" + +"As much as he need have to start with. Didn't he help her to escape +from Dorrimore's arms when the fool thought he had her safe?" + +"What!" screamed Sally, "Was _he_ the man?" + +"Aye. I've not yet plucked the crow between him and me for that, but by +gad, I mean to pluck it." + +"It won't be by fair means then. You're too much of a coward. See here, +you devil. Lance Vane's mine, and if you dare so much as to lay a finger +on him you will know what _I_ can do. There's but one road for gentry of +your profession--the road to Tyburn--and you'll take it if you cross me. +It'll be as easy as _that_." + +She dealt the braggart a blow across the nose and eyes with her closed +fan. The sticks snapped and in a white heat of passion she broke them +again and again and flung the fragments in the discomfited captain's +face. + +Her fury and his smarting nose somewhat sobered Rofflash. He knew well +enough that when Sally was in her cups she was capable of any deed of +violence. Years after, indeed, her temper led to her undoing when +inflamed by drink and jealousy she stabbed the Honourable John Finch at +"The Three Tuns" in Chandos Street. + +Rofflash hastened to mollify the enraged beauty, and did so effectually +when he suggested a plan by which she could mortify her rival. + +Sally heard him almost silently. Jeremy's plan was so much to her taste +that in a measure she was able to control herself, though her arms, +rigid by her sides, and her tightly clenched hands showed that her +nerves were still unstrung. + +"You see, mistress, you did me an injustice," growled Rofflash. "I have +worked for you, aye and right well. What do _I_ get for doing it?" + +"You shall have all the coin that old miser Mountchance gives me for +your next haul of trinkets. I won't touch a farthing for my trouble." + +Rofflash stipulated for money down. + +"You won't get a stiver," retorted Sally. "I'm as cleaned out as a +gutted herring. That cheating cat Anastasia bagged every shilling I +had." + +Rofflash had no reason to doubt Sally's word. He knew the phenomenal +luck which attended Lady Anastasia's play and he had to be contented +with promises. + +Thus they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS OF MAKING LOVE" + + +Rofflash was right. He _had_ seen Lavinia enter the Old Bailey coffee +house. Hannah was sitting up expecting her--she had arranged as much +with Lavinia--and she became terribly uneasy when midnight sounded from +half a dozen church clocks and the girl still absent. + +Hannah's bedroom overlooked the Old Bailey and now and again she leaned +out of the window, her eyes towards Ludgate Hill. Lavinia was bound to +come in this direction. Sure enough about half-past twelve Hannah caught +sight of a cloaked figure stealing along in the centre of the roadway. +It was the safest way; the overhanging storeys and the sunk doorways +offered lurking places for ill-conditioned fellows on the scent for +mischief. Hannah indeed caught sight of a man in the deep shadow of the +houses who looked very much as if he were following Lavinia, and she +raced softly down to the shop, opened the door and beckoned the girl to +hasten. + +"Merciful Heaven, what a fright you've put me in to be sure," she +whispered, throwing her arms about Lavinia. "Come in you truant. Lord, I +do believe you was born to plague me out of my seven senses. You look +tired to death. What have you been a-doing of? But don't worry to tell +me now. You must eat something first. Why, you're all of a tremble. Was +you frightened of that rascal as was dogging you?" + +"Was there one? I didn't know it." + +"One? I wonder there wasn't a dozen. A pretty young thing like you to be +in the streets at this ungodly hour. There he is a stopping now and +looking this way. Let him look. He won't see nought." + +And Hannah shut to the door with more noise than she intended, much to +Lavinia's alarm lest her mother should be aroused. + +"No fear o' that, child. Your mother's had as much gin an' beer as she +can carry. It was as good as I could do to get her up the stairs to her +bedroom. Sure she's mad about your running away out of reach. I've had a +nice time with her. But it 'ud take all the trumpets as blowed down the +walls of Jericho to wake her now." + +When the door was securely locked and bolted there was more hugging, and +Hannah's strong arms half led, half carried the girl into the kitchen +where a fire was smouldering which a bellows soon fanned into a blaze. +Eggs and bacon were put on to cook and Lavinia, curled in a roomy chair, +watched the kindly young woman's proceedings with great contentment. + +Lavinia told Hannah her story in fragments, saying nothing about +Lancelot Vane. Hannah's mind was a blank as to Pope and Gay and she was +more interested in the encounter with the highwayman. She did not ask +much about Giles, but Lavinia guessed it was a subject dear to her heart +and she did not forget to describe his mother, his cottage, and +everything about them very minutely. Nor did she omit to praise his +respectful civility and his good heart. + +"And now all's said and done, Hannah," she cried, "what's to become of +me?" + +"Aye, bless your heart, that's the trouble. This morning I put on my +considering cap an' was a-thinking and a-thinking when who should pop +her face in but my cousin Betty Higgins as lives at Hampstead. 'La, +Betty,' I says, 'where have you dropped from?' 'Ah,' says she, 'you may +well say that. I've been a-comin' for goodness knows how long knowin' as +my clothes line was a-gettin' as rotten as rotten could be. Yesterday +the wind caught the sheets and blankets as I'd just hung out an' down +they all plumped on a muddy patch an' had to be dropped in the tub +again. I wasn't a-goin' to have that happen a second time so I've come +up to buy a new line in Long Lane an' some soap at Couplands an' here I +be as large as life.' That put a notion in my head, Lavvy, my dear. I +told her about you and she's promised me a little room as she don't use +much, an' that's where you're going when you've had a sleep." + +"Oh, Hannah, how good you are," cried Lavinia between her kisses. "But +Hampstead! Why, that's where all the fashion goes! The Hampstead water +cures everything they say." + +"May be," rejoined Hannah dryly. "But there's other things besides as +I'll warrant the quality like better than the well water--nasty stuff it +is. I once drank a glass at Sam's coffee house at Ludgate where it's +brought fresh every morning and it nearly turned my stomach. There's +music an' dancing in the Pump Room and dicing and cards at Mother Huff's +near the Spaniards, aye an' lovemaking in the summer time by moonlight. +I dunno if it's a safe place for a mad young thing like you to be living +at when the sparks are roaming about." + +"Pooh!" retorted Lavinia tossing her head. "I ought to know how to take +care of myself." + +"Yes, you ought. But can you?" + +"You silly old Hannah. Hampstead can't be worse for me than London." + +"Perhaps not. If you couldn't be guarded at the Queen Square boarding +school with a female dragon as can use her eyes, why there's no place in +the world where the men won't chase you." + +"Well, it's not my fault. _I_ don't chase _them_." + +"There's no need for you to do that, you baggage. You've only got to +give any one of them a glance and he gallops after you." + +"What am I to do if I can't alter myself?" + +"Goodness knows. Things must go their own way I suppose. You can't stop +here, that's sure. It'll have to be Hampstead. But don't forget I've +warned you." + +Then they both crept up to Hannah's room, and at six o'clock the next +morning they were astir, Lavinia making a hurried breakfast and +preparing to set out on her long walk. There was no conveyance as the +stage coach on the Great North Road through Highgate and Finchley did +not start until later in the day, and Hannah, a good hearted soul never +so happy as when helping others, gave Lavinia all the money she could +spare with which to pay her sister-in-law a small sum every week. + +"I don't know what I should do but for you, Hannah dear," said Lavinia +gratefully. "It's shameful to take your money, but I swear I'll pay back +every penny, and before long too." + +"Yes, when you've married a rich man." + +"No, no. I'm not thinking of being married. I shall be earning money +soon." + +"Tilly vally! How, miss, may I ask?" + +"Ah, that's a secret. Mr. Gay says so and he ought to know." + +"It's well if he does. Your Mr. Gay seems to be taking a mighty deal of +notice of you. I only hope it'll all end well," said Hannah with a +solemn shake of the head. + +"End well? Indeed it will. Why shouldn't it?" + +Lavinia laughed confidently, and her joyful tone and her face so bright +with its contrast with her desolate condition brought a furtive tear to +Hannah's eye, but she took care not to let the girl see it. + +The morning had broken fair and by seven o'clock Lavinia was trudging +along Holborn on her way to Hampstead through what is known now as +Tottenham Court Road, then little more than a wide country lane. + +At Great Turnstile she lingered and her eyes wandered down the narrow +passage. Great Turnstile led to Lincoln's Inn Fields, and in Portugal +Row on the south side of the "Fields" was the Duke's Theatre. +Association of ideas was too strong to be resisted. Thinking of the +theatre, how could she help also thinking of Gay's encouragement as to +herself--of Lancelot Vane and his tragedy? + +Another thought was lurking at the back of her mind. She had gone to +sleep dwelling upon her promise to meet Vane at Rosamond's Pond. Did she +mean to keep that promise? She could not decide. She had given her +consent under a sort of compulsion. Was it therefore binding? At any +rate if she went to Hampstead the meeting was impossible. + +It was this last reflection which made her linger. Reasons for altering +her plans chased each other through her brain. The poor fellow would be +so disappointed if he did not see her. How long would he wait? How +wretched his garret would appear when he returned disconsolate! His +despondency might drive him to break _his_ promise to her. Where was the +harm in keeping her appointment instead of going to Hampstead? No harm +at all save that she would be behaving ungratefully to Hannah. But +Hannah would understand. Hannah was never without a sweetheart of a +sort. + +A sweetheart? That was the important point for Lavinia. Was Lancelot her +sweetheart? She wondered. She blushed at the idea. It agitated her. She +had not felt agitated when she ran away with Dorrimore--just a pleasant +thrill of excitement, a sense of adventure; that was all. Dorrimore had +made downright love to her; he had called her all the pet names in +fashion. His admiration flattered and amused her, nothing more. Vane +hadn't made love--at least it didn't seem to her that he had. But there +are so many ways of making love! + +"Hampstead's miles away," she mused. "If I go there we shall hardly ever +see each other. At all events I ought to tell him where I shall be +living. It won't be a surprise. He thinks I'm a fine lady and it's the +fashion for fine ladies to go to Hampstead at this time of the year. It +might make him jealous though," she added thoughtfully, "if he knows of +the lovemaking by moonlight Hannah talked about." + +She could decide upon nothing, and rather than loiter in Holborn while +trying to solve the problem she entered Great Turnstile passage and +presently was in the quietude of Lincoln's Inn Fields. At night she +would not have ventured to cross this big open space haunted as it was +after dark by footpads and pickpockets, but at that early hour of the +morning there was nothing to fear. Only a few people were about and in +the enclosure railed off from the roadway by posts was a horse being +broken in. The theatre was a link between her and Lancelot Vane and +thinking of him she walked towards it. + +The Fields were crossed by two roads running diagonally from opposite +corners and intersecting each other at the centre. Lavinia took the road +which led to the southwestern angle. Close by this angle was the Duke's +Theatre. + +Lavinia reached the plain unpretending structure which looked at from +the outside might be mistaken for a warehouse, and she gazed at its +blank front wondering if fate meant to be kind and give her the chance +her soul longed for. But in spite of Mr. Gay's encouraging hints it +seemed impossible that she would ever sing within its walls. + +She turned away sorrowfully and came cheek by jowl with a slenderly +built thin-faced man whose eyes twinkled humorously, and with mobile +lips that somehow suggested comicality. He stopped and stared; +apparently trying to recall some remembrance of her. She recognised him +at once. He was Jemmy Spiller the most popular comedian of the day. +Everybody who had any acquaintance with Clare Market knew Jem Spiller. +So much so that a tavern there was called after him. + +"Faith, young madam, I've seen you before," said he. "Where, pray, was +it?" + +"I've sung inside the 'Spiller's Head' more than once a year and more +ago," returned Lavinia with the demure look which was so characteristic +and at the same time so engaging. + +"What, are you that saucy little baggage? By the Lord, let me look at +you again." + +Spiller's laughing eyes roamed over her from head to foot and his shrewd +face wrinkled into the quizzical expression which had often times sent +his audience into a roar. Lavinia laughed too. + +"Aye, you haven't lost the trick of sending a look that goes straight as +an arrow to a man's heart. Tell me, was it not you that Mr. Gay took +under his wing? At the 'Maiden Head,' wasn't it?" + +"Yes. I've much to thank Mr. Gay for and you as well, Mr. Spiller. You +and your friends from the market saved me from a clawed face." + +"Why to be sure. That fury Sal Salisbury had her spurs on. She'd have +half killed you but for us coming to the spot at the right time. But, +child, what have you been doing? Hang me if you haven't sprung into a +woman in a few months." + +It was true. When Spiller last saw her she was hardly better than a waif +and stray. She was thin and bony, her growth impeded by insufficient +food, irregular hours and not a little ill usage. At Miss Pinwell's she +had lived well, she was happy, she had had love illusions and Nature had +asserted its sway. + +Lavinia coloured with pleasure. To be complimented by Spiller, the idol +of the public--an actor--and she adored actors--was like the +condescension of a god. She dropped him a low curtsey. + +"Oh, and you're in the fashion too. How long have you been a fine lady?" + +Spiller's voice and manner had become slightly serious. Lavinia was too +familiar with London life not to understand the inference. + +"I owe it all to Mr. Gay," she answered quickly. "He is the kindest +hearted man in the world. You see he spoke to her Grace the Duchess of +Queensberry about me and she sent me to school in Queen Square." + +"What, you've rubbed shoulders with the quality, have you? How comes it +then that you talk to me--a rogue and a vagabond?" + +"You a rogue and a vagabond! Indeed you're not. I--I'm afraid, though, +I'm one. I doubt if her grace would notice me now." + +"The devil she wouldn't! What's happened then?" + +"Oh, it's a long story. I should tire you if I were to tell you." + +"A pretty girl tire me? What do you take me for, Polly? It is Polly, +isn't it?" + +"Mr. Gay called me Polly, but it isn't my right name." + +"Good enough for me, my dear. But what have you done? A harmless bit of +mischief when all's said, I'll swear." + +"I don't know," rejoined Lavinia slowly. "I didn't mean any harm but I +suppose I was very silly." + +"Well, let me have the catalogue of your sins and I'll be judge." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"SOME DAY YOU'LL BE THE TALK OF THE TOWN" + + +As the two paced up and down in front of the playhouse Lavinia told the +actor the whole story. Spiller smiled indulgently at the love portion of +the narrative, but was impressed by the test Lavinia had gone through at +Pope's Villa and by Gay's belief in her future. + +In Spiller's opinion there was no reason why Lavinia should not succeed +as a comedy actress. Her want of experience was nothing. Her natural +vivacity and intelligence were everything. Experience would soon come. +What actress who in those days became celebrated had had much training +before she went on the boards? Where was the opportunity with but four +theatres in London and one of them devoted to opera? + +People were still living who could remember Kynaston the beautiful youth +as the sole representative of women's parts before actresses were known +on the stage. Nell Gwynne came from the gutter, and Nance Oldfield from +a public house in St. James's Market. Mrs. Barry had possibly had some +training under Davenant, who secured her an engagement, and she was at +first a failure. She was destined for tragedy and tragic actresses are +not made in five minutes, but comedy demanded little more than inborn +sprightliness and high spirits. Lavinia had both, and she could sing. + +Spiller, comedian as he was, possessed what we now call the artistic +temperament. He was not contented with the mannerisms which provoke a +laugh and because they never vary--the characteristic of many comedians +who like to be recognised and applauded directly they step upon the +stage. Spiller bestowed the greatest pains upon his "make up", and so +identified himself with the part he was playing as completely to lose +his own personality, and bewildered his audience as to whether he was +their favourite they were applauding. He had the art of acting at his +fingers' ends. + +"Child," said he when Lavinia had finished, "Mr. Gay and Dr. Pepusch did +not mistake. You've but to observe and work and some day you'll be the +talk of the town." + +"Do you really mean that, Mr. Spiller?" + +The girl's voice was tremulous with delight. Spiller's praise was of +greater value than Gay's. He was an actor and knew. + +"I shouldn't say so if I didn't. I mustn't lose sight of you. A pity +you'll be staying at Hampstead. I'd like to take you to Mr. Rich. You +ought to be near at hand." + +"But I don't want to go to Hampstead. I hate the very notion," cried +Lavinia breathlessly. "If I could only find a lodging in town!" + +"That might be managed. There are lodgings to be had in the house in +Little Queen Street where Mrs. Egleton lives. But have you any money?" + +"Enough to keep me for a week. Maybe Mr. Rich would find something for +me to do. I can dance as well as sing." + +"I'll warrant you, but John Rich does all the dancing himself, and as +for singing--he doesn't think much of it. But we'll see. Wouldn't your +friend the duchess help you?" + +"I don't know. I'm afraid I'm out of her grace's favour," said Lavinia +dolefully. "Besides, she might want to send me back to Queen Square. +Lud, I couldn't bear that. Miss Pinwell wouldn't have me, though," she +added in a tone of relief. + +"I'll wager she wouldn't," said Spiller dryly. "She'd be in mortal fear +of the whole of her young ladies following your example and running away +with the town sparks. Well, we'll see what can be done for you, Polly, +though I fear me I'm going to have a sad pickle on my hands." + +"Oh, pray don't say that, Mr. Spiller. What's happened was not my +doing." + +"Of course not. But let us to Little Queen Street. If Mrs. Egleton is in +the mood she may be of use to you. But take care not to ruffle her +plumes. You've heard of her I doubt not?" + +"Oh, yes. I saw her once at Drury Lane. She sings does she not, sir?" + +"Aye, so mind and not outsing her." + +They walked along the western side of the Fields to Little Queen Street, +where the houses were substantial enough, though not nearly so imposing +as those in Great Queen Street where many noblemen and rich people +lived. + +Spiller was well known to the proprietor of the house, where Mrs. +Egleton lodged and was received with effusion. Mrs. Egleton was not up, +as indeed Spiller expected, nor would she be until past mid-day. But +this did not matter. The landlady had a front attic vacant which she was +willing to let to anyone recommended by Mr. Spiller for a very small +sum, and here Lavinia installed herself. + +"Have a rest, Polly, and something to eat," said Spiller. "I shall call +for you about eleven o'clock. I want you to look your best. We're going +to see Mr. Rich. Heaven give us luck that we may find him in good +humour." + +"Do you mean this morning?" cried Lavinia, in dismay. + +"Well, I don't mean this evening. You're not afraid, are you?" + +"No, I don't think I am, but--but I would that I had a new gown and +cloak. See how frightfully draggled they are." + +"Odds bodikins, Mr. Rich doesn't want to see how you're gowned. Mrs. +Sanders will lend you a needle and thread and help you patch yourself." + +Lavinia would have protested but Spiller laughed away her objections, +and departed with a final injunction to be in readiness when he called. + +When the girl was alone she looked around her new abode with interest +and curiosity. The room was small; it had a sloping roof coming so low +at one end where the bed was that she would have to take care not to +strike her head against the ceiling when she sat up. The furniture was +scanty and plain but the place was clean. For the first time in her life +she was completely her own mistress. She sank into a roomy arm-chair, +and surveyed her domain with much satisfaction; then she half closed her +eyes and indulged in a day dream. + +Everything in the most wonderful way had turned out for the best. She +dreaded being banished to Hampstead. It had threatened insuperable +obstacles in the way of her love and her ambition. She had felt that she +was going into exile. But all was now smooth. Her scruples about keeping +her promise to Vane vanished. If only her visit to Mr. Rich proved +successful, her happiness would be complete. + +The time sped in her roseate musings. She had had a rest as Spiller +advised and springing up she attacked her ragged attire with renewed +energy. When Spiller called, she looked so fresh and animated the +comedian laughed and complimented her. + +"Gadsooks," he exclaimed, "you clever hussy! It's well our plans are +altered. If Rich not only offered thee an engagement but made love into +the bargain then the fat would be in the fire. He hath a termagant of a +wife. She'd as lief scratch your face as look at you. But thank the Lord +you're safe." + +"Safe? I don't understand," cried Lavinia a little flustered. "Am I not +to see Mr. Rich then?" + +"Not yet. Didn't I say our plans are altered? The Duke's is in turmoil. +Rich let the theatre to Huddy and his company of strolling players--at +least Huddy says he did--and has now cried off the bargain and Huddy is +turned out. Rich hasn't any play ready so it's no use taking you to +him." + +"Oh, how unlucky! I shan't have any chance after all." + +Poor Lavinia almost broke down. The shattering of her castle in the air +was more than she could endure. + +"Not with Rich just yet. But don't despair. Huddy has taken his company +to the New Theatre and it'll go hard if I don't talk him into putting +you into a part. It may be all for the best. You'd only get a promise +out of Rich whereas Huddy might be glad to get you. He's in a mighty +hurry to open the theatre. We'll go at once to the Haymarket." + +Lavinia was a little disappointed, but not dismayed. After all an +immediate entrance into the magical stage world was the important point. +She had to begin somewhere, and to play at the New Theatre was not like +playing in an inn yard or mumming booth. + +They reached the stage door of the New Theatre, afterwards called the +Little Theatre in the Haymarket, which it may be said in passing was not +quite on the site of the present Haymarket Theatre. The entrance was +small, the passage beyond was dark and they had to grope their way to +the stage, which lighted as it was by half a dozen candles or so was +gloomy enough. The daylight struggled into the audience part through a +few small windows above the gallery. A rehearsal was going on, and a red +faced man with a hoarse voice was stamping about and shouting at the +performers. When he saw Spiller he stopped and came towards the +comedian. Compared with Huddy, Spiller was a great man. + +Spiller stated his business and introduced Lavinia. The manager stared +at her, shifted his wig, scratched his head and grunted something to the +effect that he couldn't afford to pay anybody making a first appearance. + +"Look 'ee here, Mr. Spiller. It's my benefit and my company don't expect +a penny. D'ye see! I've been used in a rascally fashion by that +scoundrel Rich, and I'll have to raise a few guineas afore I can start +in the country." + +Spiller saw the position and said that the young lady who he was careful +to point out was a "gentlewoman" was quite willing to appear on these +terms and so the matter was settled. + +"She won't have much of a part. We're playing 'The Orphan' and all I can +give her is Serina. I've had to make shift with the young 'oman as +carries the drum and looks after the wardrobe. It's likely as the young +gentlewoman'll do as well as her, a careless, idle slut as don't know +how to speak her words decently." + +Nor did Mr. Huddy, Lavinia thought. But this was nothing. The owner of a +travelling play acting booth was as a rule an illiterate showman. + +"When do you rehearse 'The Orphan?'" asked Spiller. + +"We're a-doing of it now. It's just over or the young gentlewoman--you +haven't told me her name----" + +"Fenton--Lavinia Fenton." + +"Oh, aye. I was a-going to say that if we hadn't finished Miss Fenton +might stay and get some notion of the play. Let her come +to-morrow--half-past ten, sharp, mind." + +"Do you hear that, Polly?" said Spiller in an undertone. + +"I shan't fail, sir, you may be sure," replied Lavinia joyfully. + +Spiller knew some of the company and he introduced Lavinia to the +leading lady, Mrs. Haughton, who was to play the mournful, weeping +Monimia in Otway's dismal tragedy. But for Spiller the "star" actress +would hardly have deigned to notice the girl; as it was she received +Lavinia with affability marked by condescension. Mrs. Haughton was a +"star," who did not care to associate with strolling players. + +Lavinia left the theatre in the seventh heaven of delight. Everything +she had wished for was coming to pass. She longed for the evening. She +saw herself telling the wonderful tale of her good luck to Lancelot. She +was sure of his warm sympathy and she pictured to herself his smile and +the ardent look in his eyes. + +Spiller suggested a walk in the Mall so that he might give the novice a +few practical hints. Huddy had handed Lavinia her part written out, but +it did not tell her much, as everything the other characters in the play +had to say was omitted and only the cues for Serina left. + +"Just sixteen lines you've got to learn. That won't give you much +trouble. I'll show you how to say them. Don't forget to listen for the +cues and come in at the proper place." + +The lesson did not take long. Lavinia soon had a grasp of the character +(Serina figures in the play as a bit of padding and has very little to +do); her articulation was clear and she could modulate her voice +prettily. Spiller said she would do very well, and wishing her good +luck, took his departure and left her in St. James's Park. + +He could not have done Lavinia a better turn. Rosamond's Pond was at the +south-west corner of the Park and Rosamond's Pond was in Lavinia's mind. +It had occurred to her that Lancelot had not fixed any particular spot +as the place of meeting. The pond was of a fair size, it would be dark +and it might so happen that while he was waiting for her on one side she +might be on the other. Still, this was scarcely likely, for they would +both approach the Pond from the east. + +However, there would be no harm in fixing the bearings of the pond in +her mind and so she crossed the park and skirting the formal canal now +transformed into the ornamental water, reached the pond which was at the +end of Birdcage Walk near Buckingham House, an enlarged version of which +is known to us to-day as Buckingham Palace. + +The pond was amidst picturesque surroundings. There was nothing of the +primness which William III. had brought with him from Holland. The +trees had been allowed to grow as they pleased, the shrubs were +untrimmed, the grass uncut. The banks of the pond were steep in places, +shelving in others. Here and there were muddy patches left by the water +receding after heavy rains. But the wildness and the seclusion had their +attractions, and little wonder was it that love had marked Rosamond's +Pond as its own. + +There was something like a promenade on the higher ground to the east. +Here it was dry and Lavinia decided that this was the most likely spot +which Lancelot would select. Moreover, a path from the Mall near St. +James's Palace led direct to the Pond and by this path Vane would be +sure to come. + +The crisp air was exhilarating and the young grass gave it sweetness. +The twittering of the birds suggested a passage of love. The mid-day sun +shone upon the distant Abbey and very romantic did its towers look +against the blue sky. + +Lavinia's spirits rose. She felt very happy. Her real life was +beginning. All that had happened, her mad escapade with Dorrimore, the +baseness of her mother, her escape from the house in the Old Bailey, her +many trials and tribulations were mere trifles to be forgotten as soon +as possible. But her thoughts of Lancelot Vane--oh, they were serious +enough. There was no pretence about them. And to fill her cup of joy +would be her first appearance on the stage! + +For a brief space this overpowered everything. Coming to a bench she sat +down, drew out the manuscript of the play and read over her part and +recalled everything Spiller had said about the various points. When she +rose she knew the lines and the cues by heart. Then it occurred to her +that she was hungry and she pursued her way back to her lodgings in +Little Queen Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AT ROSAMUND'S POND + + +In the course of the day Lavinia made the acquaintance of Mrs. Egleton. +The landlady had told the actress how Spiller had brought Lavinia and +how the latter was to appear at the New Theatre. Mrs. Egleton, a dark +young woman somewhat pallid and with eyes which suggested that she had a +temper which she would be ready to show if put out, was languid and +patronising. Though it was past noon the lady had not long got out of +bed, and her dress was careless, her hair straggling, her complexion +sallow and the dark half circles beneath her eyes were significant of +nerve exhaustion. She had in fact the night before sat up late gaming, +dancing, eating, drinking--especially drinking--with a party of friends. +The time was to come when she and Lavinia would be closely associated, +but at that moment it was the last thing that entered into the heads of +either. + +Mindful of her appointment Lavinia set out early. She had taken great +pains over her toilet and she looked very attractive. She had no need of +paint and powder. Excitement had brought a flush to her cheek. The +fluttering of her heart, the impatience at the lagging time were new +sensations. She had experienced nothing like this disturbing emotion +when she set out on a much more hazardous enterprise to meet Archibald +Dorrimore. The difference puzzled her but she did not trouble to seek +the reason. It did not occur to her that she was really and truly in +love with Lancelot Vane. + +She had plenty of time to reach the trysting place, but to walk slowly +was impossible. Her nerves were in too much of a quiver. It hardly +wanted a half hour of seven o'clock when she entered upon the path, +leading from St. James's Palace to the pond. + +Vane was not less desirous of being punctual than Lavinia, and he had +indeed arrived at Rosamond's Pond some five minutes before her. While he +was impatiently pacing by the side of the water and anxiously looking +along the path by which he expected she would come, a lady whose dress +was in the height of the mode and masked approached him. In those days a +mask did not necessarily imply mystery. A mask was worn to serve as a +veil and a woman with her features thus hidden did not excite more +attention than that of mere curiosity. Vane had noticed her turning her +face towards him as she passed, but thought nothing of it. + +Suddenly she stopped, stepped back a pace and whispered softly:-- + +"Mr. Vane, is it not?" + +"That is my name, madam." + +"Ah, I hoped I was not mistaken. You don't remember me?" + +"I beg your forgiveness if I say I do not." + +"Nor a certain night not long ago when you were flying from a ruffianly +mob and you sought the shelter of my house? But may be you've a short +memory. Mine isn't so fleeting. Men's kisses are lightly bestowed. Women +are different. I shall never forget the tender touch of your lips." + +She sighed, lifted her mask for a moment and replaced it. To Vane's +infinite confusion he recognised Sally Salisbury. + +"Madam," he faltered, "I--I venture to suggest that you're under a +misapprehension. It was not I who kissed." + +Sally drew herself up with a disdainful air. She had a fine figure and +she knew how to display it. + +"What?" she cried. "Do you dare to deny your farewell embrace?" + +"Madam--really I----" + +He was more embarrassed than ever. It was untrue to say that he had +kissed her. The kisses were hers and hers alone, but it would be +ungallant to tell her so. He cursed the evil star which had chanced to +throw her against him at such a crisis. Lavinia might make her +appearance at any moment and what would she think? + +But the stars had nothing to do with the matter, nor chance either. It +was a ruse, a worked out design between Sally and Rofflash to secure +Vane and spite Lavinia whom she hated more than enough. + +Meanwhile Lavinia was drawing near. Mistress Salisbury had shifted her +position and had manoeuvred so as she could glance down the path to St. +James's Palace and perforce Vane had his back towards it. Sally's sharp +eyes caught sight of a figure which she shrewdly guessed was Lavinia's. + +Preparing herself for a crowning piece of craft, Sally suddenly relaxed +her rigidity and inclined langorously towards Vane who had no +alternative save catching her. No sooner did she feel his arms than she +sank gracefully into them, her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"Madam," stammered the troubled young man, "pray recollect yourself. I +protest----" + +"Protest! Oh, how cruel--how hard hearted! I love you. Can you hear me +make such a confession and be unmoved? I throw myself at your feet." + +"For God's sake, madam, don't do anything so foolish." + +He could feel her slipping gradually to the ground and he could not but +hold her tighter, and so did exactly what she was angling for. + +"It's Heaven to feel your embrace," she murmured. "Dear--dearest +Lancelot. Oh, if you only knew how I've longed and prayed we might meet! +I never thought to see you again, and here, without a moment's warning, +I'm face to face with you. Can you wonder I'm unable to control myself? +I know it's folly--weakness--anything you like to call it. I don't care. +I love you and that's all I know. Kiss me, Lancelot!" + +The unhappy Vane was at his wits' end. The more he tried to release +himself the closer she clung to him. Who seeing them could doubt that +they were ardent lovers? Sally's last words were uttered in a tone of +reckless passion, partly stimulated, partly real. She had raised her +voice purposely. She knew its penetrating accents would reach the ears +for which the loving words were really intended. She saw Lavinia who was +hastening towards them stop suddenly, then her figure swayed slightly, +her head bent forward, and in a few moments there was hesitation. +Finally she wheeled round and fled. + +Sally Salisbury had secured a complete victory so far as her rival was +concerned, but she had not won Lancelot Vane. She did not delude herself +into the belief that she had, but her triumph would come. + +Vane succeeded in wrenching himself free, but not for some minutes. On +one excuse or another she detained him and it was only on his promising +to meet her the following night at Spring Gardens that he managed to +make his escape. It was too late. In vain he waited for Lavinia, but she +came not. He was plunged in the depths of disappointment. + +"She never meant to keep her word," he muttered savagely and strode +along the path towards St. James's Palace, hoping against hope that he +might chance to meet her. + +Lancelot Vane was not the only man in the park at that moment who was +angered at Lavinia's non-appearance. When Vane was trying to repel +Sally's embarrassing caresses a coach stopped on the western side of the +Park at the point nearest to Rosamond's Pond. The coach could have been +driven into the Park itself, but this could not be done without the +King's permission. Two men got out and walked rapidly to the pond. + +"A quarter past seven," said one drawing his watch from his fob. "The +time of meeting, Rofflash, you say was seven." + +"Aye, and they'll be punctual to the minute, I'll swear." + +"Then we ought to find the turtle doves billing and cooing. A thousand +pities we couldn't get the coach nearer. Damn His Majesty King George, +say I." + +"Talk under your breath, Mr. Dorrimore, if you must air your traitorous +speeches," whispered Rofflash. "You don't seem to know that what you've +been saying is little short of 'God save King James,' which is treason +in any case and doubly dyed treason when uttered in the Royal Park." + +"Treason or not, I vow that if my coach were more handy it would help us +vastly. Carrying the girl a few yards were an easy matter and a squeal +or two of no consequence, but five hundred yards--pest take it." + +"S'blood, sir, she's no great weight and with so precious a burden in +your arms 't'would be but a whet to appetite. Still, if you're unequal +to the task, pray command me. I'd take her and willing." + +"That I'll swear you would. Wait till I call on you. What of that pair +by the pond? Curse it, but I believe they're our quarries. She has two +arms round his neck. The wanton baggage! And she once protested she +loved me! On to 'em, Rofflash. Engage the fellow while I handle the +wench. Eh?--Why--look ye there, captain. He's thrown her off. He's +going. A tiff I'll swear. What a piece of luck! She's by herself. Now's +our time. Bustle, damn you." + +Rofflash made a show of bustling, but it was nothing but show. The +mature damsel from whom Vane had hurried was half a head taller than +Lavinia. He knew who she was perfectly well, for had he not plotted with +Sally Salisbury to meet Lancelot Vane, to the discomfiture of Lavinia +Fenton? + +The crafty Rofflash had contrived to have two strings to his bow. +Dorrimore would pay him to help abduct Lavinia, and Sally would do the +same for his good offices concerning Vane. He had certainly succeeded in +the latter case, but as to Lavinia, the certainty was not so evident. +She was nowhere to be seen. Dorrimore, however, for the moment was under +the impression that the woman who was standing gazing at Vane's +retreating figure was Lavinia and it was not Rofflash's game to +undeceive him. + +Dorrimore soon discovered his mistake. + +"Sally Salisbury! The devil!" + +Of course he recognised her. What fashionable profligate young or old +would not? + +"Why Archie," rejoined the lady laughingly and making him a mocking +curtsey, "were you looking for me? Faith, I'm glad of it. A bottle of +Mountain port would be exactly to my taste." + +"Was that your gallant who left you just now?" + +"One of them," said Sally coolly. + +Dorrimore turned angrily to Rofflash. + +"What the devil does this mean? Have you tricked me?" + +"I'll swear I haven't. If anybody's been playing tricks it's that crazy +cat Sally," returned Rofflash in a low voice. "Your bird can't have +flown very far. Her man was here, you see. Let's follow him. We're bound +to light upon them together." + +The suggestion was as good as any other. Dorrimore refreshed himself +with a string of the latest oaths in fashion and set off with the +scheming captain, leaving Sally somewhat provoked. She had had many a +guinea from Dorrimore, and was in the mood to get more now that her +spite against Lavinia was gratified. + +The two men raced off at the double, Dorrimore's rage increasing the +further he went. It looked as if his plan to kidnap Lavinia had broken +down. The idea had been to waylay her before she joined Vane. As the +thing was turning out, she promised, when found, to be at so great a +distance from the coach that to convey her there would be difficult. + +Before long they hove in sight of Lancelot Vane. He too was hurrying +and looking right and left as he went. And he was alone. + +"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That +wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash, +I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him." + +"And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against +the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll +say good evening. I'll have nought to do with such folly. We'll find +some other way to lay the spark by the heels and have the girl as well. +My advice is not to show yourself or you'll put him on his guard." + +Dorrimore, whose head was not particularly strong, had had a couple of +bottles with his dinner to give him spirit for the enterprise, and he +allowed himself to be persuaded. He and Rofflash betook themselves to +the coach which landed them at a tavern in St. James's Street, where +Dorrimore drank and drank until he fell under the table and was carried +out by a couple of waiters, put in a hackney coach and conveyed to his +chambers in the Temple. + +Rofflash left his patron at the tavern long before this period arrived. +He was on the search for Mistress Salisbury and knowing her haunts +pretty well, he ran her to earth at a house of questionable repute in +the neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Sally had had more to drink than the +bottle of Mountain port her soul had craved for and was inclined to be +boisterous, but her temper was apt to be uncertain. It was a toss up +whether she laughed, cried or flew into a passion. She was inclined to +the first if she thought of her triumph over Lavinia and to the last +when Lancelot Vane and her failure to seduce him from his allegiance +came into her mind. + +Sally often boasted she could win any man if she gave her mind to the +task, but Vane had escaped her toils. Perhaps it was that she had a +genuine passion for him and so had not used her powers of fascination. +The more she drank, the more she cursed herself for having allowed Vane +to slip through her fingers, and being in a reckless mood, she said as +much to Rofflash. Otherwise she would hardly have made a confidant of a +fellow who combined swash-buckling with highway robbery. + +"What!" jeered Captain Jeremy, "Sally Salisbury own herself beaten over +a man. I'd as lief believe my old commander the great Duke Marlborough +crying he couldn't thrash the mounseers. I'll swear you didn't let him +go without getting the promise of an assignation out of him." + +"A promise? Don't talk of promises. It's easier to get a promise out of +a man than his purse." + +"Lord, madam, if it's the purse of that vapouring young spark you're +after, you'll be wasting your labour. You'll find it as empty as yonder +bottle. I'll swear now that you set greater store by his heart." + +Rofflash glanced shrewdly at Sally's face. Her lips were working +convulsively. He knew he was right. + +"You're a cunning devil, captain. You've the wheedling tongue of Satan +himself and his black soul, too, I doubt not. You're all ears and eyes +when money's to be picked up. Take that for what you did for me +to-night." + +Sally drew five guineas from her pocket and flung them on the table. A +couple would have rolled on to the floor, but Rofflash grabbed them in +time. Sally burst into one of her hard, mirthless laughs. + +"Trust you for looking after coin. See here, you Judas. Vane promised to +meet me at Spring Gardens to-morrow night. When I see him I shall +believe him, not before. You must work it so that he comes." + +"Hang me, Sally, but that's a hard nut to crack." + +"Not too hard for your tiger's teeth. I'll double those five guineas if +you bring it off." + +Rofflash relished the proposition, but he pretended to find difficulties +and held out for higher pay. To Sally money was as water. She agreed to +make the ten into fifteen. Rofflash swearing that he'd do his best, took +his departure and left the lady, like Archibald Dorrimore, to drink +herself into insensibility. + +"The devil looks after his own," chuckled Rofflash as he swaggered down +the Strand. "It'll go hard if I don't squeeze fifty guineas out of that +idiot Dorrimore over to-morrow night's work! He'd give that to have the +pleasure of running the scribbler through the body. Lord, if I'd +breathed a word of _that_ to Sally! No fool like an old fool, they say. +Bah! The foolishest thing in Christendom is a woman when she's in love." + +And Captain Jeremy Rofflash plodded on, well pleased with himself. He +took the road which would lead him to Moorfields and Grub Street. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"WHAT DID I TELL THEE, POLLY?" + + +Lavinia went to her first rehearsal in a strange confusion of spirits, +but came through the ordeal successfully. She was letter perfect, and +she remembered all Spiller's instructions. Mr. Huddy was pleased to say +that he thought she would do. + +She left the theatre for her lodgings in Little Queen Street in a +flutter of excitement. Otway's "Orphan" might be dull and lachrymose, +the part of Serina might be insignificant, but to Lavinia the play was +the most wonderful thing. It meant a beginning. She had got the chance +she had longed for. She saw herself in imagination a leading lady. + +But when she returned to her lodgings a reaction set in. She was +depressed. Life had suddenly become drab and dull. She was thinking of +Lancelot Vane, but not angrily, as was the case the previous night when +she walked away her head high in the air after seeing Sally +Salisbury--of all women in the world!--in his arms. She was in a tumult +of passion, and when that subsided tears of indignation rushed to her +eyes. She made no excuses for her recreant lover, no allowances for +accidents and misadventures. She did not, indeed, think he had set out +to insult her, but the unhappy fact was patent that he knew the wanton +Sally, and that he had a tender regard for her. Lavinia's reading of the +thing was that in her anxiety she had arrived at the trysting place too +soon. Ten minutes later and Vane would have got rid of his old love and +taken on with his new one. Oh, it was humiliating to think of! + +Lavinia walked away in her rage. By the time she reached Little Queen +Street, the storm had passed. She had arrived at the conclusion that all +men were faithless, selfish, dishonourable. For the future she would +have naught to do with them. + +The excitement of the rehearsal, the sense of independence she felt when +all was got through with credit, lent her buoyancy, but it did not last. +The dream she had once had of playing to an audience and seeing only +Lancelot Vane in the first row of the pit applauding and eager to +congratulate her, was gone. She was done with him for ever. So she told +herself. And to strengthen this resolve she recalled his weaknesses, his +vacillation, his distrust in himself, his lapses into inebriety. Yet no +sooner had she gone over his sins than she felt pity and inclined to +forgiveness. But not forgiveness for his faithlessness. That was +unpardonable. + +Mrs. Egleton, her fellow lodger, had the night before gone to bed sober +and was inclined to be complaisant and to interest herself in Lavinia. +She was pleased to hear that Huddy had praised her. + +"If he asks you to join his company, don't you refuse," said Mrs. +Egleton. "He's got a rough tongue when he's put out, but he knows his +business. Three months' experience will do wonders. I must come and see +you on _the_ night. When is it to be?" + +Lavinia said she hadn't the least idea. + +"Oh, well, you'll soon know." + +Mrs. Egleton was right. In the next issue of the _Daily Post_ appeared +this advertisement:-- + + + "At the desire of several persons of quality for the benefit of Mr. + Huddy, at the New Theatre in the Haymarket. To-morrow being + Thursday, the 24th day of February, will be presented a tragedy + called 'The Orphan; or, the Unhappy Marriage,' written by the late + Mr. Otway, with a new prologue to be spoken by Mr. Roger, who plays + the part of Chamont. The part of Acasto by Mr. Huddy; Monimia, Mrs. + Haughton; the page, Miss Tollet; and the part of Serina by a + gentlewoman who never appear'd on any stage before. With singing in + Italian and English by Mrs. Fitzgerald. And the original trumpet + song of sound fame, as set to musick by Mr. Henry Purcel, to be + performed by Mr. Amesbury." + + +Lavinia read this over twice and thrilled with delight. She ran with the +paper to Mrs. Egleton. + +"Mercy on me, child!" cried the actress. "So you're a gentlewoman, are +you?" + +"The paper says I am, so I suppose it's true," said Lavinia, casting +down her eyes demurely. + +"If you are, it'll be a wonder. Not many women players are, I may tell +you for your satisfaction. Who was your father?" + +"I don't know. I can't remember him." + +"Well, you're in the fashion there. Few of us are better off than you. +But what matters father or mother? You're in the world, and after all +that's as much as you need trouble about. As for your mother--but I +won't bother you about _her_. A mother's not much good to her daughter. +She mostly looks to make money out of her by a rich marriage, not that +she's over particular about the marriage so long as there's plenty of +coin." + +Lavinia did not contradict Mrs. Egleton's cynical views. From her own +experience she knew it was very often true. + +The 24th was a fortnight ahead--plenty of time for the play to be in +readiness. Huddy had no fear about the performance. What concerned him +more nearly was his "benefit" money. He busied himself in canvassing his +patrons and the disposal of tickets. + +The night came. Lavinia was wrought to a high pitch of excitement, but +her excitement was pleasurable. The scenery, albeit it would be scoffed +at nowadays, was to her magnificent. The costumes were gorgeous. It was +nothing that they smelt musty from having laid long in the theatre +wardrobe. The incongruity of many of the garments gave her no pang of +uneasiness. "The Orphan" was of no particular period. Dresses which had +done duty in Shakespearean tragedies, in classical plays of the Cato +type, in the comedies of the Restoration dramatists, were equally +admissible. The circumscribed space afforded the players by the +intrusion on the stage of the seats for the "quality" did not embarrass +her. The combined odours of oranges and candle snuff had their charm. + +The house was full, but in the dim and smoky candlelight the faces of +the audience were little better than rows of shadowy masks. The pit +occupied the entire floor of the house right up to the orchestra. Here +the critics were to be found. The pit could make or mar the destiny of +plays, and the reputation of players. Dozens of regular playgoers knew +the traditions of the theatre better than many actors and actresses. +They were sticklers for the preservation of the stage "business" to +which they had been accustomed. They knew certain lines of their +favourite plays by heart, and how those lines ought to be delivered. + +The curtain rose. Acasto, Monimia, Chamont mouthed their various parts, +and did exactly what was expected from them. Curiosity was excited only +when Serina, the daughter of Acasto, in love with Chamont, made her +appearance. Lavinia's winsome face, her eyes half tender, half alluring, +her pretty mouth with not an atom of ill nature in its curves, her +sympathetic voice, at once attracted the audience. It was a pity, +everyone felt, she had so little to say and do. Her few lines expressed +but one sentiment--her love for Chamont. + +Lavinia played the part as if she felt it, which was indeed the fact, +for she was thinking of Lancelot Vane all the time. When she came to her +final words in the fifth act-- + + + "If any of my family have done thee injury, + I'll be revenged and love thee better for it" + + +the house thundered its applause, so naturally and with such genuine +pathos were they delivered. + +The curtain fell. The gallants who had seats on the stage crowded round +the "young gentlewoman" and showered compliments. A few privileged +people from the front of the house who found their way behind were +equally enthusiastic. Even Mrs. Haughton--the Monimia of the +play--deigned to smile approvingly. + +"What did I tell thee, Polly?" she heard a pleasant if somewhat husky +voice whisper in her ear. + +She knew the tones and turned quickly. John Gay's kindly eyes were +beaming upon her. He had come with Jemmy Spiller, and with a stout man +from whose broad red face a look of drollery was rarely absent. This was +Hippisley, a comedian with a natural humour which was wont to set an +audience in a roar. + +Lavinia blushed with pleasure and cast a grateful look at Spiller, whose +hints had proved so valuable. + +"Was I not right, Spiller?" went on Gay. "You've read my opera, what +there is of it that's finished. Won't Polly Peachum fit her like a +glove?" + +"Aye, if she can sing as prettily as she acted to-night," said Spiller, +with a quizzical glance at the girl. + +"Sing? My lad, she has the voice of a nightingale. Pepusch agrees with +me. I'll swear there's no singing woman outside the King's Theatre--or +inside, for the matter of that--who can hold a candle by the side of +her. Have you forgotten the pretty baggage who so charmed us at the +Maiden Head?" + +"Not I, faith. I was but jesting. And so you've fixed upon her. But I +hear that Mr. Rich has set his face against so many songs. He won't take +your Polly merely because she can sing." + +"Mr. Rich is a fool--in some things," rejoined Gay hastily. "He can +dance, I grant you, and posture as no other man can, and he thinks he +can act! I heard him once at a party of friends. My good Spiller, if his +vanity ever prompted him to air his voice on the stage, the people would +think he was mocking them, and one half would laugh and the other half +boo and hiss." + +"I know--I know. Still, he holds command, and he likes his own way, no +man better." + +"No doubt, but whatever a man wills he has to give up when a woman says +yea or nay. My good duchess means to have a word with him over the +songs." + +"If that's so John Rich had better capitulate at once. He's as good as +beaten." + +Lavinia could only catch a word of this talk here and there. She was +being pestered by half a dozen sparkish admirers who were somewhat taken +aback when they discovered that the "gentlewoman who had never appear'd +on any stage before" could more than hold her own in repartee and give +the fops of fashion as good as or better than they gave. How could they +tell that the sprightly young budding actress had graduated in the wit +and slang of the streets? + +But she was pestered and peeved all the same, for she dearly wanted to +talk to Gay and Spiller. At last the modish gadflies got tired of having +their smart talk turned against them, and one by one fell off, +especially as Huddy, whose blunt speech was not much to their taste, +came up and intruded without apology into their vapid banter. + +"The gal's done well, Spiller," said Huddy, "and I'm obleeged to ye. Now +I want to get on the road and waste no time about it. I ought to be at +Woolwich afore a fortnight's over, then Dartford, Gravesend, Rochester, +Maidstone, and so away on to Dover. What d'ye say, miss? I can give ye a +good engagement--no fixed salary in course--sharing out, that's the rule +with travelling companies--Mr. Spiller knows what I'm a'telling you is +right." + +Lavinia hardly knew what to say to this, and she turned to Spiller for +advice. Huddy saw the look of doubt on her face, and went on with his +argument. + +"It's this way, miss. I don't say as you didn't play to-night to my +satisfaction--thanks to my rehearsing of you--but you've got a lot to +learn, and, by God, you won't learn it better anywhere in the world than +with me. Ask Mr. Spiller--ask Mr. Hippisley. They know what's what, and +they'll tell you the same." + +Spiller nodded. + +"You've made a good beginning, but the more practice you have the +better. Isn't that so, Mr. Gay? Mr. Gay has great hopes of you, my dear +and--but you'd better hear what he has to say." + +"Oh, I should dearly love to," murmured Lavinia. + +They were now in the green room. Mrs. Fitzgerald was on the stage +singing "in English and French," and her shrill tones penetrated the +thin walls greatly to Gay's discomfort. The lady's voice was not +particularly sweet. + +"Let us walk apart, Polly," said he. "We shan't hear that noise so +keenly." + +He took her arm and placed it beneath his. + +"Spiller's right, my dear. I have great hopes of you, but your chance +won't come for months. The time won't be lost if you work hard at +everything Huddy puts in your way. You'll have plenty of variety, but +you won't earn much money. The sharing out system puts the lion's +portion into the manager's pocket. But that can't be helped. Still, if +you want money--the duchess----" + +"Oh, Mr. Gay," broke in Lavinia anxiously, "I've been sorely worried +thinking of her grace. Have you told her?--I mean about me running away +from school and--and----" + +Gay laughed and playfully pinched her cheek. + +"The love story, eh? Yes, I told the duchess, and she was vastly +entertained. She's a woman of infinite spirit and she likes other women +to have spirit too. She's not without romance--and I wouldn't give a +thank-you for her if she were. If you'd run off out of restlessness or a +mere whim or fit of temper, I doubt if she'd troubled about you further; +but love--that was another thing altogether. Oh, and your courage in +escaping from that dissolute rascal--that captured her. My dear, +Queensberry's Duchess is your friend. She's as desirous as I am that you +should be Polly Peachum in my 'Beggar's Opera,' and when I tell her +about to-night she'll be overjoyed. You need not fear about the future +save that it depends upon yourself. But Polly, what of the young +playwright, Lancelot Vane?" + +"I don't want to hear anything about him!" + +"What! Have you and he tiffed? Well, 'tis a way that true love works. +But let me tell you I've handed his play to Mr. Cibber, though much I +doubt its good fortune. Honestly, my child, though some of the lines are +good, others are sad stuff." + +"I don't wish Mr. Vane any ill will, but it is no affair of mine whether +his play be good or bad." + +"Mercy on me! But you told me he wanted to write in a part for you." + +"If he does I won't play it. Mr. Vane is nothing to me." + +"Oh, so _that_ love's flown away, has it? Was there anybody in this +world or any other so full of vagaries and vapours as Master Cupid?" + +Lavinia was in a tumult of doubt and contrary inclinations. She hated to +discuss Lancelot Vane! She wanted to talk about him! She was suffering +from the most puzzling of emotions--the mingled pain and pleasure of +self-torture. + +Gay neither gratified nor disappointed her. He simply remarked that it +was well she now had nothing to distract her mind and that she would be +able to devote herself entirely to her new life, and after counselling +her not to argue about terms with Huddy, he led her back to the manager, +and it was settled that she should join his travelling company. + +Lavinia was overwrought, and that night slept but little. It was hard to +say whether the thoughts of her future on the stage, her dreams of +distinction with Gay's opera, or her wounded love and pride occupied the +foremost place in her mind. She resolved over and over again that she +would forget Lancelot Vane. She meant to steel herself against every +kind of tender recollection. She was certain she hated him and dropped +off to sleep thinking of the one kiss they had exchanged. + +The next morning she was fairly tranquil. She had not, it is true, +dismissed Vane entirely from her thoughts, but she had arrived at the +conclusion that as it was all over between them it really was of no +consequence whether he had jilted her for Sally Salisbury. That he +should bestow even a look on so common a creature was a proof of his +vulgar tastes. Oh, he was quite welcome to Sally if his fancy roamed in +so low a direction. She felt she was able to regard the whole business +with perfect equanimity. + +Her landlady that day bought a copy of the _Daily Post_ and she sent it +upstairs to Lavinia. Newspaper notices of theatrical performances were +rarities in those days. Lavinia did not expect to see any reference to +Mr. Huddy's benefit, and her expectations were realised. What she _did_ +see sent the blood rushing to her face and her hands fumbled so that she +could hardly hold the paper. Then she went deadly pale, she tore the +paper in half and--a rare thing for Lavinia to do--she burst into tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"IF WE FIGHT.... WHAT SAY YOU TO LAVINIA FENTON?" + + +The big room of the "Angel and Sun" hard by Cripples Gate was the scene +of loud talk, louder laughter and the clank of pewter mugs on the solid +oaken table. The fat landlord, divested of his wig, which he only wore +on high days and holidays, was rubbing his shiny pate with satisfaction. +The Grub Street writers were his best customers, and when they had money +in their pockets they were uneasy until it was gone. + +The room was low pitched; its big chimney beams projected so much that +it behoved a tall man to be careful of his movements; it was full of +dark shadows thrown by the two candles in iron sconces on the walls; a +high settle was on either side of the fire in front of which stood the +bow-legged host, his eyes beaming on the rapidly emptying bottles. + +A slight sound, a movement, caused the landlord to glance towards the +door. A stranger had entered. He was not of the Grub Street fraternity. +He had too much swagger. His clothes were too fine, despite their +tawdriness, his sword hilt too much in evidence. What could be seen of +his dark face, the upper half of which his slouched hat concealed, was +rather that of a fighter than of a writer. The landlord summed up the +signs of a swashbuckler and approached him deferentially. + +"Good evenin', sir. What's your pleasure?" + +The stranger cast a rapid glance over the revellers sitting round the +long, narrow table before he replied. + +"Half a pint of gin, landlord," said he, in the deep, husky voice of +Captain Jeremy Rofflash, and he strode towards the chimney corner of one +of the settles, whence he could see the noisy party of drinkers and not +be seen himself very well. + +The landlord brought the gin in a pewter pot and set it down on a ledge +fixed to the chimney jamb. + +"See here, landlord," growled Rofflash, "d'ye know Mr. Jarvis?" + +"Sure, sir; 'tis he yonder with the lantern-jawed phizog." + +"Aye. Watch your chance when he's not talking to the rest and bid him +look where I'm sitting. There's a shilling ready for you if you don't +blunder." + +The landlord nodded and waddled towards the man he had pointed out. + +Jeremy Rofflash, it may be remarked, was a born spy and informer. His +blood was tainted with treachery. Ten years before he had been employed +by the Whig Government of George of Hanover to ferret out +evidence--which not infrequently meant manufacturing it--against the +Jacobites. Posing as a Jacobite, Rofflash wormed himself into the +secrets of the conspirators, and he figured as an important witness +against the rebel lords Derwentwater, Nithsdale, Carnwath and Wintoun. + +It was nothing for him to serve two masters and to play false to both, +according as it best suited his own pocket. Sally Salisbury and +Archibald Dorrimore were working in two different directions, and the +ingenious Jeremy accommodated both. His scheming in Sally's interest had +turned out to his and to her satisfaction, but not so that on behalf of +Dorrimore. The captain had not reckoned upon Lavinia taking flight +before he and his employer arrived on the scene. + +The plot of which she was the objective was common enough in those days +of free and easy lovemaking. Merely an abduction. Rofflash had an +intimate knowledge of Whitefriars, not then, perhaps, so lawless a place +as in the times of the Stuarts, but sufficiently lawless for his +purpose. Its ancient privileges which made it a sanctuary for all that +was vile and criminal had not been entirely swept away. Rofflash knew of +more than one infamous den to which Lavinia could be conveyed, and +nobody be the wiser. + +The abduction plot had failed--for the present--and Rofflash, to pacify +Dorrimore, went on another tack. In this he was personally interested. +He saw his way to make use of Dorrimore to punish Vane for the +humiliation Vane had cast upon him when they encountered each other on +London Bridge. This humiliation was a double one. Vane had not merely +knocked him down, but had rescued Lavinia under his very nose. + +The insult could only be washed out in blood, and the captain had been +nursing his wrath ever since. But he was as great a coward as he was a +braggart, and a fair fight was not to his taste. He was more at home in +a stealthy approach under the cover of night, and a swift plunge of his +sword before the enemy could turn and defend himself. + +With Dorrimore it was different. To do him justice, fop as he was, he +did not want for courage, and, moreover, he was a good swordsman. So +when Rofflash made out that he could bring Vane to Spring Gardens, +where Dorrimore could easily find an excuse for provoking his rival to a +duel, the Templar eagerly approved the idea. + +It was to carry out this plan practically that Rofflash, after quitting +his patron in St. James's Park, made his way to Moorfields. Though he +knew that Sally had extracted a promise from Vane to meet her in Spring +Gardens, he was by no means certain that Vane would keep his word. But +Rofflash was never without resources, and he thought he could devise a +plan to bring the meeting about. His scheme proved easier to execute +than he expected. Vane unconsciously played into his hands. + +After his bitter disappointment through not meeting Lavinia at +Rosamond's Pond, Vane walked back to his Grub Street lodgings plunged in +fits of melancholy, alternated with moralisings on the faithlessness of +women. He did not believe Lavinia had kept the appointment. As for Sally +Salisbury, well, it was unfortunate that he should run across her at a +wrong moment, but he never imagined that the meeting with her was one of +design and not of accident. + +Vane had the poetic temperament. He was human and emotional and--he was +weak. Had he lived two centuries later he might have fancied, and may be +with truth, that he suffered from neurasthenia. In the full-blooded days +of the early Georges the complaint was "vapours," otherwise liver, but +no one troubled about nerves. The ghastly heads of Jacobite rebels stuck +on Temple Bar were looked upon with indifference by the passers-by. The +crowds which thronged to Tyburn to witness the half hangings and the +hideous disembowelling which followed, while the poor wretches, found +guilty of treason, were yet alive, had pretty much the sensation with +which a gathering nowadays sees a dangerous acrobatic performance. + +Vane had none of this brutish callousness. He was more susceptible to +sex influences. Despite his worship of Lavinia, whom he elevated into a +sort of divinity, and who satisfied the more refined part of his nature +and his love of romance, he was not insensible to the animal charms of +Sally Salisbury. The cunning jade was familiar with all the arts of her +profession. She knew how to kiss, and the kiss she bestowed upon him in +the park haunted him just as did the kiss he had received whether he +would or not on the night when she sheltered him in her house. + +Thus it came about that the despondent young man was torn between +varying emotions, and by the time he was within hail of Grub Street he +was without will of his own and at the mercy of any who chose to +exercise influence over him. + +Chance led him to encounter a party of boon companions whose company he +had vowed to relinquish. One of these was in funds, having abandoned +political pamphleteering for the writing of biographies of notorious +personages, both men and women--the latter preferably--in which truth +and fiction were audaciously blended, and the whole dashed with +scandalous anecdotes which found for such stuff a ready sale. + +Jarvis and his friends having had their fill of liquor at one tavern, +were proceeding to another when they met Lancelot Vane, and they bore +him away without much protest. It was by no means the first time that +Vane had drowned his sorrows in drink. + +Meanwhile Rofflash was on the prowl. He was not unacquainted with some +of the Grub Street scribblers. One man he had employed three or four +years before, when Jacobitism was rampant, in running to earth the +writers of seditious pamphlets and broad sheets. The man was Tom Jarvis. +Rofflash knew Tom's favourite haunts, and after looking in at various +taverns, lighted upon him at the "Angel and Sun." He also lighted upon +Vane. Vane he could see was well on the way towards forgetfulness, but +Captain Jeremy wasn't one to run any risks, so he held aloof from the +party, and waited while the landlord went about his errand. + +Presently Jarvis looked in the direction of the fireplace, and Rofflash +beckoned him and laid his fingers on his lip in token of silence. Jarvis +quietly slipped away and joined Rofflash. + +"Devil take it, my gallant captain!" growled Jarvis, "but you look in +fine feather. Hang me if you haven't tumbled on your feet, and that's +more than Tom Jarvis can say. Since the Jacks have swallowed King George +and his Hanoverian progeny things have been precious dull for the likes +o' me." + +"Aye, though it mayn't be for long. Meanwhile, I can put you in the way +of a guinea. Are you friendly with that young fool, Lancelot Vane?" + +"Friendly? Why, to be sure. He's always good for a bottle if he chance +to have the wherewithal about him. And he's the best company in the +world when that comes about. A couple o' glasses knocks him over, and +you can finish the rest of the bottle at your ease." + +"Gad! He's one of your feather-brained, lily-livered fellows, is he? So +much the better for my purpose. Look you here, Tom; bring Vane to-morrow +evening to Spring Gardens, and there's a guinea ready for you." + +Jarvis looked down his long nose and frowned. + +"Not so easy as you think, captain. I know Vane. To-morrow he'll be +chock full of repentance. He'll be calling himself all the fools he can +lay his tongue to. How am I to get him to Spring Gardens in that mood?" + +"'Tis as easy as lying, Tom. When a man's down as Peter Grievous, he's +ready to get up if he have but a couple of hairs of the dog that bit +him." + +"I grant you that, bully captain. But Vane's pocket's as empty as mine. +Where's the coin to come from?" + +"You're a damned liar and an ingrained rogue by nature, Tom Jarvis, but +I'll have to trust you for once. Here's half a guinea. It should more +than pay for the wine and the wherry to Spring Gardens. Keep faith with +me, you rascal, or I'll half wring your head from your shoulders and +give you a free taste of what's bound to come to you some day--the rope +at Tyburn." + +Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to +carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away. + +How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much +consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner. +Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after +a drinking bout was verified to the letter. + +The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The +wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens, +though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their +passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers +more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined +were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats. +Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as +they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked +by plenty of liveliness. + +Well did Spring Gardens--afterwards known as Vauxhall, or Fauxhall, +years later--deserve the patronage bestowed upon them. Delightful +groves, cosy little arbours, lawns like velvet, rippling fountains were +among its attractions, music albeit it was confined to the limited +instruments of the day--singing came about afterwards--aided the +enchantment. + +A dose of hot brandy and water before starting had renewed Vane's +drooping spirits and had dissipated his headache and nausea. A glass of +punch prescribed by Jarvis when inside the Gardens sent him into a mood +of recklessness which made him ready for any adventure amorous or +otherwise. He looked upon Lavinia as lost to him. He would like to kill +his remembrance of her. What better way than by thoughts of some other +woman? His brain had become so bemused by his potations of the previous +night that he had at first only vague recollections of Sally Salisbury +and how he had engaged to meet her. But now that he was in the Gardens +association of ideas brought her handsome, enticing face to his mind. +She would do as well as another to entertain him for the moment, and his +eyes roved restlessly towards every woman he passed. + +The orchestra was playing a dance tune, and Vane eagerly scanned the +dancers, but saw no woman resembling Sally Salisbury. Meanwhile Jarvis +had left him with a parting drink, which by no means helped to clear his +muddled brain. Then suddenly Sally stood before him, unmasked and +looking more fascinating than ever. + +"You wicked man," said she with reproachful eyes, the dark silky lashes +drooping momentarily on her painted cheeks. "I've been searching for you +everywhere. But my heart told me you would come, and my heart rarely +deceives me." + +Sally spoke in a tone of sincerity, and maybe for once she was sincere. +Vane did not trouble one way or the other. He was in that condition of +nervous excitement to be strongly affected by her sensuous beauty. He +was stammering something in reply when a man in a puce satin coat and a +flowered brocaded waistcoat thrust himself rudely between them. + +"I fear, sir, you don't know all the transcendent virtues of this +_lady_. Permit me to enlighten you." + +He spoke in an insolent tone, and Sally turned upon him in fury and bade +him begone. + +"Mind your own business, Mr. Dorrimore, and don't thrust your nose into +what doesn't concern you," she cried, her eyes blazing with wrath. + +"Oh, I've no quarrel with you, madam. I only wish to warn your poor +dupe----" + +He wasn't able to finish the sentence. Vane had struck him a violent +blow in the face. + +Vane's sudden attack fairly took Dorrimore by surprise. He stared +blankly at Vane, and then apparently seized by some ludicrous idea, he +burst into a sarcastic laugh. + +"Faith, sir--you must excuse me--you really must. Ha--ha--ha! The idea +of your championing this wanton jade! It's too good a joke--'pon honour, +it is--but since you will have it so--why----" + +His hand went to his side, and the next moment his sword flashed in the +crimson light of the coloured lamps. Just then Jarvis and another man +interposed, and the latter caught Dorrimore's sword arm. + +"Forbear, gentlemen!" cried Jarvis. "If you must fight, don't let it be +here. In public 'twould be little better than a vulgar brawl." + +"Let me alone," shouted Dorrimore. "He struck me and in the devil's name +he shall answer it." + +"Whenever you please. I did but defend the lady whom this coward +insulted," said Vane, pale, and speaking in a voice low and vibrating +with passion. + +He felt a pressure on his arm and heard in soft tones: + +"Thank you, but you mustn't risk your life for me. Come away." + +"What, and leave the fellow's challenge unanswered. Never! Sir, I am at +your command. When and where you please." + +"Don't be a fool, Vane--Sally's not worth it," whispered Jarvis. "Don't +you know she's any man's money?" + +For a moment Vane wavered as though Jarvis had convinced him. In the +meantime Dorrimore had sheathed his sword and stepping close to Vane in +front of Sally Salisbury, he said, dropping his voice so that Sally +should not hear: + +"Your friend's right. If we fight it should be over somebody better than +a common trull. What say you to Lavinia Fenton?" + +Vane staggered as though Dorrimore had struck him. + +"Lavinia Fenton?" he faltered. "What--what do you know--about her? What +is she to you?" + +"Simply this--she's mine, and I'll have the blood of any man who +attempts to rob me of her. You tried once, and this follows." + +Dorrimore tapped the hilt of his sword. + +"I never saw you before, sir, but I take you at your word. I can see now +you've forced this quarrel on me, and for aught I know Mistress +Salisbury may be in the plot. But that doesn't matter. If Miss Fenton is +the cause, I shall fight with a better heart. Jarvis--please arrange +this affair for me. You've a friend at hand, sir, I presume." + +Dorrimore dropped his insolent, foppish air. He recognised that Vane, +poverty stricken scribbler though he might be, was a gentleman. He bowed +and turned towards the man who, with Jarvis, had interposed in the early +stages of the altercation. This man was Rofflash. He had dragged Sally +Salisbury some three or four yards away probably to prevent her +interfering and persuading Vane not to fight. Whatever their talk might +have been about, just as Dorrimore turned Vane saw Sally tear herself +from Captain Jeremy's grasp and hurry away, and he became more than ever +persuaded that she had betrayed him. What did it matter? One woman or +another--they were all the same. + +He walked apart while Jarvis and Rofflash arranged the preliminaries. +His brain was numbed. He did not care whether he lived or died. Five +minutes later Vane was joined by Jarvis. + +"We've settled the business very comfortably," said Jarvis. "Seven +o'clock at Battersea Fields. It's now nearly midnight. We'll get a rest +at the nearest tavern; have a few hours sleep, and you'll wake as fresh +as a lark." + +Vane made no reply, and Jarvis sliding his arm within that of his +companion, led him out of the gardens. They took the direction of +Wandsworth, keeping by the river bank, and Jarvis made a halt at a +tumbledown rookery of a waterside tavern--the "Feathers." Vane was so +overwhelmed by the prospect of a possible tragedy that he scarcely +noticed the dirt, the squalidness, the hot and foetid air and the +evil-looking fellows who stared at them when he and Jarvis entered. + +On the strength of the order of a bottle of wine the landlord gave them +the use of his own room, and Vane threw himself on a hard settee, but +not to sleep. He was worn and haggard when it was time to rise, and +Jarvis called for brandy. It was vile stuff, and Vane swallowed scarcely +a mouthful. + +The bill paid, they got into a boat moored off the bank opposite the +tavern. + +It was only just daylight. A slight mist hung upon the river, and the +marshy land on the south side and the scattered houses leading to +Chelsea on the north side looked dreary enough. The only sound was the +plash of the waterman's sculls and the grinding of the rowlocks. At last +they came upon Battersea Fields. + +"The pollard oaks, waterman," said Jarvis. "Do you know 'em?" + +"Right well, your honour. You're not the first gentlemen I've took +there. More'n than have come back, I'll swear." + +The fellow's words weren't encouraging, but Vane did not seem affected +by them. He felt strangely calm. Before he started his head was hot; now +it was as cold as ice. Jarvis asked him how he was. + +"Feel my pulse and tell me," said he. + +"Steady as a rock, but devilish cold. A little thrust and parry'll warm +you. Here we are, and there's your man and his second waiting." + +The boat scraped the rushes and the waterman held it while the two men +scrambled on to the bank. + +The ground was fairly well chosen for the purpose. It was a tolerably +firm piece of turf about a hundred yards long by some twenty broad and +almost as smooth as a bowling green. It was the only solid piece of +earth for some distance, all around being at a lower level and boggy. + +Not forgetful of the usual courtesies, the combatants bowed and took off +their coats and vests. It was then that Vane caught sight of Rofflash. + +"You're the fellow whom I knocked down on London Bridge on a certain +night some little time ago," said he. + +"The very same," rejoined Rofflash with a grin which made his ugly face +still uglier. "You took me unawares. If you've the mind to try +conclusions a second time, fair and square and no surprises, by God, +sir, I'll be pleased to oblige you when you've despatched Mr. +Dorrimore." + +The bully's braggart manner and sneering voice made no impression on +Vane. The suspicion that he was the victim of a plot was strengthened by +the presence of Rofflash and his words. For ought he could tell Jarvis +might be in the conspiracy too. But there was no way out of the trap, +and turning on his heel, he walked to his ground. + +The duel began. The combatants were about equal in youth, height and +build; in skill they were unfairly matched. Vane was comparatively a +novice in the use of the "white arm." Dorrimore, on the other hand, was +a practised swordsman, though he was not so accomplished as he fancied +he was. + +The two, after the preliminary salute, advanced to the attack. Dorrimore +handled his weapon with a slightly contemptuous air, as if he did not +think it worth while to take much trouble over so inferior an opponent. + +To a certain extent he was right. Vane, however, was shrewd enough to +see that this carelessness was but assumed, and he did not take +advantage of one or two opportunities of thrusting given him by +Dorrimore, evidently with the intention of leading him into a trap. + +So they went on cautiously, their blades rasping against each other, and +neither man gaining any advantage, although once or twice Vane found his +antagonist's weapon perilously near his body. Then all at once Dorrimore +changed his methods. He began fencing in earnest, and so rapid was the +play of his sword that the eye could scarcely follow it. Suddenly he +muttered an oath as a red stain appeared on his arm. Vane had been lucky +enough to scratch him, probably more by accident than dexterity. + +Dorrimore roused himself and his fencing became more vigorous. Vane was +being pressed very closely, and Dorrimore's thrusts were becoming more +and more difficult to parry. Moreover, Vane's nerves were unsteady and +his movements were flustered. The gleaming steel danced, he grew +confused, faltered, and then came a cold biting sensation in his chest, +he fell and knew no more. + +"An ugly thrust, Mr. Dorrimore," growled Rofflash five minutes +afterwards. "What's to be done?" + +"Is he dead?" asked Dorrimore anxiously. "I'd no intention of going as +far as that, but it was the fool's own fault. He was rushing upon me +when my point touched him. I couldn't withdraw it in time." + +Rofflash, while with Marlborough's army, had acquired some rough +knowledge of surgery. His hands had gone over Vane's chest in the region +of the heart. The wound was on the right side. + +"There's life left," said the captain, "but he won't last long without a +surgeon. The blade's touched the lungs, I'll swear. Look ye here, sir. +If the man dies it'll be awkward for us all round. The fight was fair +enough, but the devil only knows what a dozen fools in a jury box may +think. Besides, there's Sally--she'll have something to say, I'll +swear." + +"Sally? What the deuce has she to do with us?" + +"More than you think, Mr. Dorrimore. She's as like as not to make out +that the quarrel was forced upon the fellow to get him out of the way. +You see, she's set her heart on him." + +"Sally Salisbury's heart? What, has the saucy jade got one?" demanded +Dorrimore derisively. + +"She thinks so, and with Sally that's as good as having one. You might +find it prudent to take refuge in France for a while till the affair +blows over. It would be bad enough to kill the man right out, but a +thousand times worse to leave him to bleed to death. I'm not so sure +what Jarvis might say to save his skin. You see, he was paid to bring +his man to Spring Gardens, so that you might affront him and get him to +fight you," added Rofflash dropping his voice significantly. + +"Devil take it! Where's a surgeon to be got?" returned Dorrimore in +alarm. + +"Leave it to me, sir. I can take him to a doctor who'll attend him and +who'll hold his tongue, which is more to the purpose. It'll mean a few +guineas, but 'twill be money well spent." + +"See to it, then, Rofflash. Where's the man to be found?" + +"His house is on London Bridge. The tide's running down fairly, and the +waterman ought to get us to the bridge in half an hour." + +Dorrimore assented gloomily. He was thinking that the gratification of +his spite would cost him a pretty penny. Not only would the doctor, +Rofflash and Jarvis have to be paid for their silence, but the waterman +also. + +Vane's wound was roughly bandaged, and he was taken to the boat still +unconscious. The journey by water was made, and he was landed safely at +the foot of London Bridge and consigned to the care of Dr. Mountchance, +whose scruples at taking charge of a wounded man who might probably die +in his house were easily overcome. + +A few days later the following paragraph appeared in the _Daily Post_: + + + "We learn that an affair of honour has taken place between A----d + D----e, Esqr., of the Temple, and Mr. L----t V----e, a young + gentleman lately come from Cambridge University, in which the said + young gentleman made the acquaintance of the Templar's sword, + causing him temporary inconvenience. The cause of the difference + was the fair S----y S----y, well known to many men of fashion." + + +It was this paragraph which sent Lavinia into a paroxysm of emotion and +made her tear the newspaper in twain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"MOLL'S SINGIN' BROUGHT HER LUCK AND MAY BE YOURS WILL TOO" + + +The months went over. Huddy's "travelling" theatrical troupe had been +paying a round of visits to various towns in the home counties, +performing in innyards, barns, any place suitable for the purpose and +where no objections were raised by the justices. Actors and actresses +were "rogues and vagabonds" when it suited prim puritans to call them +so, and more than once Huddy and his company had to take a hurried +departure from some town where play-acting was looked upon as ungodly +and a device of Satan to ensnare the unsuspecting. + +All this was in the day's work. Lavinia thought nothing of it. She had +been in her youthful days harried from pillar to post and knew what it +meant. The important thing to her was that she was getting a vast amount +of stage experience, and as she was a quick "study" she had no +difficulty in taking on a new role at a day's notice. + +Lavinia remained with Huddy's until she had all the devices of the stage +at her finger's ends. In a way theatrical training was easier then than +now. Acting was largely a question of tradition. What Betterton, Wilks, +Barton Booth, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Oldfield did others had +to do. Audiences expected certain characters to be represented in a +certain way and were slow to accept "new readings." Comedy, however, had +more latitude than tragedy, and as comedy was Lavinia's line her winsome +face and pleasing smile and her melodious voice were always welcome, and +when she had a "singing" part she brought down the house. + +Of course the life was hard--especially when the share of the receipts +which fell to the minor members was small--but it was full of variety +and sometimes of excitement. If the work did not entirely drive away the +remembrance of Lancelot Vane it enabled her to look upon the romance of +her early maidenhood with equanimity. Her love affair had become a +regret tinged with a pleasureable sadness. + +She was beginning to be known in the profession. Now and again she wrote +to her old friend Gay and he replied with encouraging letters. His opera +was finished, he told her, Colley Cibber had refused to have anything +to do with it and it was now in the hands of John Rich. + +"I can see thee, my dear, in Polly Peachum. I've had you in mind in the +songs. You're doing well, I hear, but I'd have you do better. The +duchess has forgiven you. She is on your side against Rich, who does not +care a farthing for the music. He would alter his mind could he but hear +you. Huddy must let you go. The Duke's Theatre is waiting for you." + +In all Gay's letters there was not a word about Lancelot Vane. Lavinia +would like to have known the fate of his play and the next instant was +angry with herself for still feeling an interest in her faithless swain. + +"Let him waste himself on Sally Salisbury if he likes," she cried +scornfully. "He's nothing to me." + +Gay's assertion that Rich's theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields waited for +her was soon verified. One of Rich's staff waited upon her when Huddy's +company was playing at Woolwich, and she went off with him in high +spirits and amid much growling from Huddy. Rich was pleased to express +his approval of her appearance. + +"I'll put on a play for you and that'll tell me if you knows your +business," grunted the ungrammatical Rich. + +The play was a poor thing--"The Wits," one of D'Avenant's comedies. The +best part about it to Lavinia's fancy was the advertisement in the +_Daily Post_ where she read "Ginnet by Miss Fenton." Ginnet was but a +stage waiting maid and Lavinia had little to do and less to say. "The +Wits" ran but one night, quite as long as it was worth. + +"You'll do pretty well," said Rich, "but I can't say more'n that. My +theatre shuts for the next three months. When the season starts I'll +find you summat else." + +"Three months!" exclaimed Lavinia ruefully. "And what am I to do all +that time, Mr. Rich?" + +"That's your business, miss. If I was you I'd try one of the summer +theatres. There's the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. May be you might +get a part. But mind this, you're to come back here in October. I'll put +you into something as'll soot you." + +What could Lavinia say to this? It was at once sweet and bitter. She had +made good her footing at Rich's theatre and could she only tide over the +summer months she would be on the stepping stones of success. But +meanwhile? She took Rich's advice and went to the Little Theatre. She +found she had not the ghost of a chance of an engagement. Drury Lane and +the Duke's Theatres were closed (Covent Garden Theatre was not then +built), and actors and actresses of established reputation were +clamorous for something to do. Lavinia retired discomfited. + +She had to go back to Huddy's, to the mumming booth and the innyard. +There was no help for it. The summer passed, Rich opened the Lincoln's +Inn Fields playhouse and sent for Lavinia. He gave her quite an +important part and Lavinia was elated, albeit the play was one of +Wycherley's most repulsive productions, "The Country Wife." But all +through the winter season this part was her only opportunity for +distinction. John Rich, like most actor managers, had but an eye for +himself as the central figure and in his own special province--dancing +and posturing. His "Harlequin" entertainment "The Rape of Proserpine" +proved to be one of his biggest successes and ran uninterruptedly for +three months. + +Lavinia's line in the piece was simply to "walk on" among the "lasses" +but she had the gratification of seeing her name announced in the +advertisements--a sufficient proof that she was rising in Rich's +estimation. She had at last a chance of showing what she could do. Her +old acquaintance, Mrs. Egleton, took her benefit along with Hippisley, +one of the best low comedians of the day, and selected Farquhar's "The +Beaux' Stratagem"--partly so she said, for Lavinia's sake. + +"You were made for Cherry, my dear," said she. "The part'll fit you as +easily as an old glove." + +And so it did, but the next night Rich went back to "The Rape of +Proserpine" and the piece continued to run until the summer, and then +the theatre closed as usual for three months. + +"Whatever am I to do Mrs. Egleton?" she cried despairingly. "I suppose I +could join Huddy's company again. Huddy I know would be glad enough to +have me but----" + +"Pray don't be silly," put in the experienced Mrs. Egleton. "It would be +lowering yourself. Rich would think you're not worth more than he's been +paying you and that's little enough--fifteen shillings a week. Good +Lord, how does he imagine a woman of our profession can live on that?" + +"It's because of our profession that he parts with so little. He has a +notion that we can make it up," rejoined Lavinia sarcastically. + +"You never said a truer word than that, my dear. Thank God I've my +husband, but _you_--well you'd better take a husband too or as nearly as +you can get to one." + +Lavinia shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. + +"Why not go to Hampstead? Heaps of money there and plenty of life. Bless +my heart alive, with that taking face of yours the men would be after +you like flies round a honey-pot." + +"I've no fancy for figuring as a honey-pot, thank you." + +"Well, I can think of nothing else." + +The mention of Hampstead was suggestive, but not in the way insinuated +by Mrs. Egleton. Half fashionable London flocked to Hampstead in the +summer, ostensibly to drink the water of the medicinal spring, but +really to gamble, to dance and to flirt outrageously. There was plenty +of entertainment too, of various sorts. + +Then she thought of Hannah's cousin, Betty Higgins at Hampstead. Lavinia +had saved a little money while with Rich and Huddy and she could afford +a small rent for lodgings while she was seeking how to maintain herself. +Concerts were given at the Great Room, Hampstead Wells. She might appear +there too. She would love it. She had seldom had an opportunity of +singing in any of the parts she had played, and singing was what her +soul delighted in. + +She made her way to Hampstead. The heath was wild enough in those +days--clumps of woodland, straggling bushes, wide expanses of turf, vast +pits made by the gravel and sand diggers, the slopes scored by water +courses with here and there a foot path--all was picturesque. The ponds +were very much as they are now, save that their boundaries were not +restrained and after heavy rains the water spread at its own free will. + +The village itself on the slopes overlooking the heath was cramped, the +houses squeezed together in narrow passages with openings here and there +where glorious views of the Highgate Woods and the country beyond +delighted the eye. + +Lavinia inquired for Betty Higgins in the village, but without success. +Indeed, the houses were not such as washerwomen could afford to live in. +Then she went into the quaint tavern known as the Upper Flask and here +she was told that a Mrs. Higgins who did laundry work was to be found in +a cottage not far from Jack Straw's Castle on the Spaniards' road and +thither Lavinia tramped, footsore and tired, for she had walked all the +way from London. + +Betty, a stout, sturdy woman was at her clothes lines stretched from +posts on a patch of drying ground in front of her cottage. She opened +wide her round blue eyes as Lavinia approached her. + +"Are you Betty Higgins?" asked Lavinia. + +"Aye, that's me sure enough; an' who may you be, young woman?" + +"I'm Lavinia Fenton, a friend of your Cousin Hannah, who works for my +mother at the coffee house in the Old Bailey." + +"So you're the young miss as she told me of! Why, that be months an' +months agone. An' you never comed. It put me about, it did." + +"I'm very sorry. I never thought of that. But so many things I didn't +expect prevented me coming." + +"Have you seen Hannah? She's been a-grievin' about you, thinkin' as you +might ha' come to harm." + +"No, I haven't been near the Old Bailey," said Lavinia hesitatingly. +"Perhaps you'll guess why. I dare say Hannah's told you about me and my +mother." + +"Oh, to be sure she has. May be you don't know then that your mother's +got another husband?" + +"I'm glad of it. She won't bother any more about me now." + +"May be not. But what d'ye want?" + +"I'd like to know if you can let me have a lodging. It'll suit me to +live at Hampstead for a while." + +"But s'posing as it don't suit me to have you?" + +"Then I must go somewhere else. I think Hannah would be glad if I was +with you." + +"Aye, but you've been away from her goodness knows how long. What have +you been a-doin' of all that while?" + +"Play-acting. I had a part last week in a play at the Lincoln's Inn +Theatre and Mr. Rich has promised me an engagement when the theatre +opens for the winter season." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Higgins with a sniff which might have signified pity or +contempt, or both. "I dunno as I hold with play-actin'. Brazen painted +women some o' them actresses is and the words as is put in their mouths +to say--well--there----" + +"I know--I know," returned Lavinia hurriedly and with heightened colour. +"But that isn't their fault, and after all, it's not so bad as what one +hears in front--in the gallery----" + +"What, the trulls and the trapes and the saucy footmen! It made my ears +tingle when Hannah took me to Drury Lane. I longed to take a stick in my +hand an' lay it about 'em. So you're a play-actin' miss are ye? I'm +sorry for it." + +"I can't help that, Mrs. Higgins. One must do something--besides there's +good and bad folk wherever you go." + +"Aye, an' ye haven't got to go from here neither. A pack o' bad 'uns, +men and women, come to Hampstead. They swarm like rats at Mother Ruff's, +dancin' an' dicin, an' drinkin', an' wuss. I won't say as you don't see +the quality at the concerts in the Great Room, but the low rabble--well, +thank the Lord they don't come _my_ way." + +Then Betty Higgins, who all this time had been eyeing the girl and +apparently taking stock of her, suddenly harked back to the all +important business which had brought Lavinia to her cottage. + +"If I let ye a lodging what are ye a-goin' to do till October?" + +"You spoke about the concerts at the Great Room just now," said Lavinia +meditatively. "Do they have singing?" + +"Singin'? Ah, an' such singin' as I never heard afore. I've never been +inside, it's far too fine fur the likes o' me, but the windows are +sometimes open an' I've listened an' paid nothin' fur it neither." + +"I want to sing in that room, Mrs. Higgins. If I had a chance I believe +I could please the fine gentlemen and their ladies and earn some +money." + +Betty Higgins stared aghast. + +"What are ye a-talkin' about, child? _You_ sing? Where's your silk gown, +your lace, your furbelows to come from?" + +"I don't know, but I think something might be contrived." + +Lavinia had Mrs. Houghton, who had been the leading lady in "The Orphan" +and in "The Wits," in her mind. Mrs. Houghton was very friendly towards +her and had no end of fine dresses. + +"Oh, but singin'. Goodness me, child, you haven't heard 'em in the Great +Room, all tralalas and twists and turns up and down, sometimes soft as a +mouse and sometimes so loud as 'ud a'most wake the dead. I'd like to +hear ye do all that, not mind ye, as I understand what it means, but its +pure grand." + +"I'll sing something to you Betty that you _can_ understand. What of 'My +lodging, it is on the Cold Ground.' Would you like to hear that?" + +"Wouldn't I! My mother was maid to Mistress Moll Davies, as King Charles +was mad over, though for the matter o' that he was always a runnin' +after the women. Anyway, it was that song and the way Moll sung it as +won his heart. Ah, them days is past an' I'm afeared as I mustn't speak +well of 'em or I'd be called a 'Jack,' clapped into Newgate or sent to +Bridewell and lashed. But give me 'Lodging on the Cold Ground' an' I'll +tell ye what I think. But I warn ye, mother copied Mrs. Davies an' 'll +know how it ought to be sung." + +Lavinia laughed to herself. She was quite sure if she could satisfy Mr. +Gay and Dr. Pepusch she could please Betty Higgins. + +"Them old songs," went on Betty, warming to her subject, "touches the +'eart and makes the tears come. But you don't hear 'em at the fine +concerts. I'll go bail as there beant a woman now-a-days as can make a +man fall in love with her 'cause of her singin'." + +"I wonder," said Lavinia musingly. + +"Well now, let me take in the clothes an' we'll have a dish o' tea an' a +bite and then you shall sing your song." + +"Yes, and I'll help you with the clothes." + +Lavinia's offer pleased Betty, and the two were soon busy pulling the +various garments and bits of drapery from the lines and gathering from +the grass others that had been set to bleach in the wind and sun. This +done they entered the cottage. The window was small and the light dim. A +white-haired old woman was warming her hands and crooning over a wood +fire. + +"Eh, mother," cried Betty, "I've brought someone to sing to ye. 'Lodgin' +on the Cold Ground,' do ye remember that old ditty?" + +"Do I mind it? Why, to be sure. But who sings it now-a-days? Nobody." + +"Well, ye're going to hear it, and ye'll have to say if this young miss +here trolls it as well as Moll Davies used to." + +"What stuff ye be talkin', Betty," retorted the old woman. "Nobody can. +I can remember my mistress a-singin' it as well as if it was only +yesterday." + +"Do ye hear that--I've forgotten what name Hannah told me yours was?" + +"Lavinia Fenton. But please call me Lavinia." + +"So I will. Now sit ye down, Lavinia, and talk to mother while I brew +the tea." + +Lavinia was rather dismayed at finding she was to pit herself against +the fascinating Moll whose charms had conquered the Merry +Monarch--possibly no very arduous task. + +The old lady was past eighty, but in possession of all her faculties. +When she said she remembered Moll Davies' singing perfectly well she +probably spoke the truth. + +Tea was over. Betty cleared away and Lavinia at her request--to be +correct--at her command, sang, keeping her eyes fixed on the old lady +and so to speak singing _at_ her. + +Before long the aged dame was mopping her eyes, and when Lavinia had +finished the pathetic ballad she stretched out both her wrinkled hands +towards the girl and in a quivering voice said:-- + +"Thank you, my dear. Lor' ha' mercy, it takes me back sixty year. I +haven't heard that song since Mistress Davies sung it, an' lor' bless +me, it might be her voice as I were a-listin' to. Aye, an' you're like +her in face, though not in body. She was short an' a bit too plump, but +she was the prettiest of wenches. Moll's singin' brought her luck and +maybe yours will too." + +Lavinia heard the old lady's praise with delight. Betty could say +nothing. She was gazing spellbound at the nightingale. The charm of the +girl's melodious and expressive voice had swept away all her prejudices. +Lavinia should have a lodging and welcome. Betty went further. She did +the laundry of Mrs. Palmer, the wife of the director of the concerts at +the Great Room, and she undertook to tell the lady of the musical +prodigy living in her cottage, and promised Lavinia to beg her ask her +husband to hear the girl sing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"HALF LONDON WILL BE CALLING YOU POLLY" + + +And so it came about. Lavinia was sent for by Mr. Palmer, and she sang +to him. He was highly pleased with her voice, but he was afraid her +songs would not be to the fancy of his fashionable patrons. + +"One half are mad to have nothing but Mr. Handel's music and t'other +half cry out for Signor Buononcini's. Your songs are like neither. +There's no taste for English ballads. They're out of fashion. Scales, +ornaments, shakes and flourishes are now the mode. For all that, I'd +like to make the venture with you just for once." + +"Thank you, sir. If the people don't care for my songs, there's an end +on it. I'll have to wait as best I can till Mr. Rich opens his theatre. +I may have a singing part in Mr. Gay's opera. Mr. Gay has promised me. +Have you heard about his opera?" cried Lavinia eagerly. + +"Oh, it's being talked of in the coffee houses, I'm told. But if Mr. +Rich has his way, it won't do. Maybe he'll cut out the songs. Mr. Rich +knows nothing about music. He can't tell 'Lilibullero' from 'Lumps of +pudding.' Still, it's something to be taken notice of by Mr. Gay." + +Palmer was evidently impressed by Lavinia's talk, especially after she +had mentioned that she had sung to Dr. Pepusch at Mr. Pope's Villa. It +occurred to him that though Lavinia Fenton might be unknown now, a day +might come when she would be famous, and he could then take credit for +having recognised her talents. + +Besides, the manager happened to know that Gay and Arbuthnot were at +that moment staying at Hampstead to drink the waters--the first to cure +his dyspepsia, and the second to ease his gout. Palmer decided to send +word to the poet-dramatist intimating that a young lady in whom he had +heard Mr. Gay was interested was about to sing at one of the Great Room +concerts and begging for the honour of his patronage. But he said +nothing to Lavinia about this. All he remarked was that she should sing +at his concert on the following Wednesday, and Lavinia went away in a +dream of pleasurable anticipation. + +The eventful night came. Lavinia was full of enthusiasm but horribly +nervous. She felt she was competing with the two greatest composers of +music in the world. What if the audience hissed her? Audiences, as she +well knew, were not slow to express their likes and dislikes--and +especially their dislikes--in the most unmistakeable fashion. + +The difficulty of her dress had been overcome. Palmer was shrewd. He had +an eye for contrast. He would have no finery and fallals, he said. + +"Your songs are simple, so must your gown be. If the people take to you +in the one they will in t'other." + +So Lavinia made her appearance in a plain dress, apron, mob cap, and of +course prodigious hoops. Her hair was arrayed neatly and not powdered. +There was powder enough and to spare on the wigs of the beaux in front, +and on the elaborate head-dresses of the belles. + +Lavinia's unadorned dress suited her natural and easy carriage and made +her doubly attractive. Not a hand was raised when she bowed, but she +could see that every eye was turned upon her with expectancy and +curiosity. But there was also a certain amount of indifference which +provoked her. It could hardly be supposed that anything out of fashion +would be of interest to such modish folk. + +Lavinia chose her favourite--"My lodging it is on the cold ground." + +There were not a few aged bucks, painted and powdered and patched, aping +the airs and graces of younger gallants, who could remember Charles II. +and Moll Davies. They were startled when they heard Lavinia's liquid +notes in the old ballad--they felt that for a brief space they were +recovering their youth. + +As for the rest, they were conscious of a pleasant surprise. Against the +simplicity and pathos of the old ballad Buononcini's stilted +artificialities sounded tame and monotonous. When Lavinia finished +applause filled the room. She had to sing again. + +"You've caught 'em, my dear," said Palmer enthusiastically. "Before a +week's over you'll be the talk of Hampstead. You must stay here and sing +whenever I want you. Not every night--that would make you common. Only +now and again, just as a novelty. Do you understand?" + +Lavinia knew the ways of showmen quite well. She smiled and nodded, and +her eyes wandering towards the door of the ante-room in which she and +Palmer had been talking, whom should her gaze light upon but Mr. Gay! +Palmer was very well acquainted with Gay by sight, and hastening towards +the visitor made him a low bow. + +"I am highly honoured, sir, by your presence here to-night," said +Palmer, "I hope you did not think my sending you a ticket was taking a +liberty." + +"Tut, tut, man! 'Twas very polite of you," returned Gay good-humouredly. +"I'm glad to be able to congratulate you on the success of your new +acquisition, especially as the little lady interests me greatly--as, +indeed, you mentioned in your note, though how you came to know of that +interest I'm at a loss to conceive, unless she told you so herself." + +"Not directly, sir, I confess. But she chanced to remark that she had +sung to you and to Dr. Pepusch, whom I am fortunate in numbering among +my friends." + +"Aye, aye. Well, she _can_ sing, eh? What d'ye think?" + +"Admirable, sir, admirable. She has been gifted both by nature and art." + +"And those gifts should put money in her pocket and yours too, Mr. +Palmer. I hope you'll reward her on a liberal scale." + +"Why, certainly, sir. I shall be happy to oblige you." + +"Oh, obliging me has nothing to do with the matter. But we will talk of +that later on. Pray pardon me." + +With a slight bow Gay turned away and walked to where Lavinia was +standing, her cheeks glowing and her eyes glistening with pleasure at +the sight of the genial poet who had done so much to encourage her. + +"Why, Polly," said Gay, extending his hand, "how came you here? I left +you making your way on the stage, and now I find you a songstress. +Faith, my dear, are you thinking of going back to your early days when +you did nothing but sing songs?" he added laughingly. + +"Not quite that, sir, but I always did love singing, as you know. And so +do you, sir, or you would never have persuaded the good duchess to spend +so much money on me." + +"Oh, maybe I was thinking of myself all the while," rejoined Gay. "I +admit I saw in you the very young woman I'd had in my mind for a long +time, for Polly Peachum in my opera. Did I not call thee Polly from the +very first?" + +"Yes, indeed, sir. I've never forgotten it. I hope you'll always call me +Polly." + +"Make your mind easy as to that. Why, if my dreams come true, half +London will some day be calling you Polly, too." + +"I don't know what you mean, sir." + +"Of course you don't. I'm not always sure that I know what I _do_ mean. +But never mind. Let us take a stroll on the heath. On such a summer +night as this it is a shame to be cooped up betwixt four walls. Besides, +I want to talk with you." + +Manager Palmer bade Lavinia good-night with an air very different from +that with which he met her earlier in the evening. Her success and Gay's +evident friendship had worked wonders. He was quite deferential. + +As Lavinia and Gay passed through the dimly lighted vestibule to the +entrance a man from among the audience stole after them. He was very +pale and his pallor accentuated his projecting cheek bones and the +hollows above, from the depths of which his large eyes gleamed with a +glassy light. Evidently in ill health, he could hardly have kept pace +with the couple he was shadowing had they not been walking very slowly. + +"Everything is in our favour," Gay was saying. "Fortune has sent you +here at the right moment. You can act and you can sing. _I_ know it, but +John Rich and the Duchess of Queensberry must know it as well. Both your +acting and singing must be put to the proof, and you must show her grace +that she hasn't wasted her money." + +"That's what I'm most anxious to do, sir." + +"Aye, aye. Well, to-morrow I shall bring you some of the songs you'll +have to sing in my 'Beggar's Opera'--that is if we can talk that +curmudgeon Rich into the ideas that I and my friends have in our minds. +Are you lodging in Hampstead?" + +"Oh, yes. I'm staying with Hannah's cousin. You remember Hannah, don't +you, Mr. Gay? I told you what a good friend she was to me and how she +saved me from my wicked mother and the designing fellow I was so silly +as to run away with. I shall never forget my mad fancies--never!" + +"Best forget them, my dear, though I fear you'll be apt to drive out one +fit of madness by taking on another. 'Tis the way love has, and----" + +"Oh," interrupted Lavinia hastily, "I don't believe it. I'm not going to +bother about love any more." + +"Every woman has uttered those words, and has had to eat them. How many +times have you eaten yours, my pretty Polly, since last you resolved to +forswear love?" + +"Not once. I've learned my lesson. I know it now by heart." + +"So it doesn't interest you now to know anything about poor Lance Vane?" + +It was not the pale moonlight that made Lavinia's cheeks at that moment +look so white. Gay, who was gazing fixedly at her, saw her lips quiver. + +"Poor Lance Vane? Why do you speak of him like that? Has he had his play +accepted and has it made his fortune?" she exclaimed ironically. + +"Neither the one nor the other. Ill luck's dogged him. I fear he wasn't +born under a prosperous star." + +"I'm sorry if he's been unfortunate. Perhaps though it was his own +fault." + +A note of sadness had crept into her voice as Gay did not fail to note. + +"Well, it's hard to say. To be sure, his tragedy would not have taken +the town--neither Rich nor Cibber would have aught to do with it, but he +had worse misfortunes than that. He was denounced as a traitorous +Jacobite and thrown into Newgate." + +"That horrible place! Oh, I can't believe it," cried Lavinia, clasping +her hands. "Mr. Vane was no traitor, I'm sure--although----" + +She paused. Politically Lancelot Vane might be incapable of treason, but +where love was concerned--well, had he not acted traitorously towards +her? + +"That's true. Vane was no traitor. He was accused out of spite. I went +to see him in Newgate. They had thrust him in the 'lion's den,' the most +filthy and abominable of infernos, and he was loaded with fetters. That +was because he hadn't a penny to 'garnish' his sharks of gaolers. You +know what 'garnish' means, child?" + +"Yes, indeed--money to bribe the gaolers with." + +"Aye, from the Governor downward, and not forgetting the chaplain. I was +able by flinging about a few guineas to better his condition, and as the +gaol fever was creeping upon the poor fellow, they were glad enough to +get rid of him. While I was there, he told me the whole story. It began +like most other stories with a woman." + +"Oh, I know," burst out Lavinia, "you needn't tell me. The woman was +that worthless creature, Sally Salisbury." + +"You're wrong there," returned Gay gravely, "the woman's name was +Lavinia Fenton." + +"That's not so. It couldn't be so. The newspaper said that Vane fought +with Archibald Dorrimore, and that the quarrel was about Sally +Salisbury." + +"The quarrel was part of the plot. It was concocted to hold up Vane to +your scorn. Dorrimore wanted revenge because he thought Vane had +succeeded where he had failed. True, Sally was present when the quarrel +began, but that might have been an accident. Indeed, it's possible she +was in the plot. Vane doesn't know one way or t'other." + +Lavinia was silent for a few moments. Then she said: + +"And is Mr. Vane in Newgate now?" + +"No. He was brought to trial after innumerable delays. The evidence +against him amounted to nothing. The witnesses--one of them a lying +wretch who ought to be whipped at the cart's tail from Newgate to +Charing Cross, by name Jeremy Rofflash--were scoundrelly common +informers of the lowest type. Lancelot's father, a Whig clergyman and +strong supporter of King George, appeared in court to speak on behalf of +his son's character, and the lad was acquitted. But I fear he's broken +in health, and I doubt if he'll be the man he was before." + +Again Lavinia was silent. It was all very sad, and she felt full of pity +for Lance. But at the back of her thoughts lurked the remembrance of +Sally Salisbury's mocking face, of her vulgar spite. She was not +altogether convinced that Lancelot Vane was insensible to Sally's +undoubted attractions. She sighed. + +"To-morrow, then," went on Gay, "I shall bring you the songs I want you +to learn." + +They had now come in sight of Betty's cottage. Lavinia pointed it out to +her companion, and Gay, bidding her adieu, turned in the direction of +Hampstead village. + +Pensively Lavinia walked towards the cottage. She had told herself over +and over again that she cared no more for Lancelot--that she had blotted +him out of her life--that she wanted neither to see him nor to hear of +him. Yet now that he had gone through so terrible an ordeal she had a +yearning to offer him her sympathy, if not to forgive him. + +"No, I can't do that," she murmured. "Accident or not, that vile woman +was with him--his arms were round her. I'll swear my eyes didn't play me +false." + +Suddenly she heard a halting step behind her. The heath at night was a +favourite haunt of questionable characters from dissolute men of fashion +to footpads, and a lone woman had need to dread one as much as the +other. Betty's cottage was but a few yards away, and Lavinia quickened +her pace. + +"Miss Fenton--one moment, I entreat," came in a panting whisper. "I--I +am Lancelot Vane. I must speak with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"FOR THE SECOND TIME VANE HAD RISKED HIS LIFE FOR HER" + + +Lavinia stopped and turned, not completely round but half way. She was +in a flutter, though outwardly calm. She made no attempt to recognise +Vane, and indeed had Lancelot not announced himself, recognition would +have been difficult, so greatly had he changed. + +"You've forgotten me. You're right," he went on agitatedly. "I deserve +to be forgotten, though if you knew of the dastardly plot to crush me I +believe even _you_ would forgive me." + +"Even _I_? Am I, then, so hard-hearted?" + +"No, I don't believe you are, but everything looked so black against me +I could scarce hope that you would listen to what I have to say. And +there's so great a difference between our fortunes. Mine's blighted. +Yours--I heard you sing to-night. 'Twas ravishing. You're destined to be +famous. Mr. Gay confided to me his hopes about you. Did he say how good +he was to visit me in Newgate--that hell upon earth?" + +"Yes, Mr. Gay is the best man living. I owe everything to him." + +"I know--I know. He went over your story. You're wonderful. But I always +thought that, though I knew so little about you." + +He paused. His glistening eyes scanned her face eagerly. He would have +given worlds to know what was in her mind and heart. But she gave him no +chance. She remained impassive. + +"You've been very unfortunate, Mr. Vane. I'm truly sorry for you." + +"That's something," said he gratefully. "It consoles me for what I've +gone through. The lies told by Rofflash and Jarvis, who I thought was my +friend, nearly sent me to Tyburn." + +"And Mistress Salisbury?" + +Lavinia's manner was as cold as ice. It was only by a great effort that +she forced her lips to utter Sally's name. She knew it meant a deadly +thrust for Vane, but a woman has no mercy where another woman is +concerned. + +Vane hung his head. + +"I don't know what to think about her," said he huskily. "I can hardly +believe she was in the conspiracy to consign me to the gallows." + +"Why not? Is she in love with you?" + +"How can I tell? I--I--well, I suppose I may say in justice to her that +she did her best to nurse me through the fever that followed my wound." + +"Then she does love you," cried Lavinia roused out of her coldness. "I +can't imagine the creature doing a good action without a strong motive." + +"I've heard say she's generous and is always ready to put her hand in +her pocket to help anybody in distress." + +"Very likely. It's easy to be generous with money that comes so lightly. +Every guinea she spends is tainted," exclaimed Lavinia passionately. +"And so you accepted her help?" + +"Not in money. She found me grievously ill at Dr. Mountchance's on +London Bridge. Mountchance is a quack and a charlatan, and she had me +carried to her own lodgings else I must have died. I'd scarce recovered +from my wound when I was arrested at Rofflash's instigation and thrown +into Newgate." + +"I suppose she did right and you, too, Mr. Vane," rejoined Lavinia with +a toss of her head. "It is naught to do with me. Let us talk of other +matters. Mr. Gay tells me your father's a clergyman." + +"Yes. He would have had me be one too, but I hated everything to do with +the Church. We parted in anger, and I went my own way. Ill luck followed +me. I've made a mess of my life. Everything went wrong. I thought +Fortune was coming my way when I met you, but she turned her back." + +"That wasn't my fault, Mr. Vane." + +"Great heaven, no! 'Twas entirely my own folly and accursed fate. I've +no one to blame but myself. Wine was an easy way of drowning my +troubles." + +"You've no need to remind me of that, Mr. Vane," put in Lavinia hastily. + +"I beg your pardon for going over my sins, but open confession's good +for the soul, they say." + +"I'd rather not hear about your sins, Mr. Vane. I don't want to listen +when you talk like that. Tell me something of the other side." + +"I doubt if there is another side," he rejoined in deep dejection. "I've +had to come back to my father. He's vicar of a parish not far from here. +You see my stay in Newgate and my trial ruined me. The publishers +refused me employment and even my old companions turned their backs upon +me." + +"That was no loss." + +"Perhaps not, but it convinced me I was done for in London." + +"What do you intend to do, then?" + +"I can't tell. Nothing, I suppose. I had my tragedy returned, and I've +no heart to write another--except, maybe, my own, and that will have to +be the task of somebody else." + +"What do you mean? You're talking in riddles. How can anybody else write +your tragedy?" + +"Anybody who knew the facts could do it. You could. No one better. The +end's the difficulty--for you, not for me. But sooner or later you'd +hear what the end was." + +Lavinia grasped his wrist tightly, and looking into his face, saw his +lips twitching convulsively. + +"I understand," she burst out, "you mean to take your own life. Oh...." + +"A tragedy must have a tragic finish or it isn't a tragedy. What have I +left but for the curtain to come down?" + +"You're talking nonsense. Think of your father--your mother, if you have +one." + +"The best in the world, poor soul." + +"Very well, that settles it. You're more fortunate than I am. My +mother's about the worst." + +"Anyhow, one must die sooner or later. I was within an ace of death two +months ago. The gallows wouldn't have been worse than a Hampstead pond." + +"You're more foolish than ever. I won't listen to you. Swear to be +sensible and think no longer of the miserables. I don't believe you're +much more than a year older than me. Life's all before you." + +"Life? A very little bit of it, and what a life! Waiting for death. +Shall I tell you what Dr. Mead, the great physician, told my father who +asked him to see me? 'That young man hasn't long to live. I give him a +year. Killed by the Newgate pestilence.' Now, what do you say, Miss +Fenton?" + +"Don't call me Miss Fenton," cried Lavinia, her voice quivering. "It +makes us seem miles apart. You poor fellow! But doctors aren't always +right." + +"This one is. I feel it. But I don't care so long as you forgive me and +make me believe I'm no longer a stranger. You do pardon me, don't you, +Lavinia?" + +"Oh, yes--yes--let us forget everything but our two selves," she cried +impulsively. Her heart was overflowing with pity. She held out both her +hands. He seized them and raised them to his lips. + +"May I meet you to-morrow?" he whispered. "The only thing I would live +for is the joy of seeing you, of hearing your voice. It will be but for +a short time." + +"Oh, you mustn't say that. You don't know," she cried tremulously. + +A wistful smile stole over his wan face. Silently he held her hands for +a few seconds, pressed them spasmodically and the next moment they were +free. He had crept away. + +A wave of emotion swept over Lavinia. Her temples throbbed. A lump rose +in her throat. Her eyes were streaming. She was inexpressibly sad. +Jealousy, resentment, every harsh feeling had disappeared. Though she +had tried to combat Vane's dismal forebodings a conviction was gradually +forcing itself upon her that he was right. He was a doomed man. + +It was quite ten minutes before she was composed enough to enter the +cottage. Betty and her mother were tiptoe with excitement. The old woman +was too feeble to walk as far as the concert room, but her daughter had +gone and listened outside, and as it was a hot night and the windows +were open, she heard Lavinia's song perfectly. + +"Mercy on me, child, why, an angel couldn't ha' sung more beautiful. La, +if it only be like that in Heaven! I'd ha' given anything for mother to +ha' been there. I see you come out with a gentleman, but I know manners +better than to stare at others as is above me." + +"That was Mr. Gay, the poet. It was he who took me to the Duchess of +Queensberry. I told you how kind she was to me, didn't I?" + +"Aye, so you did. Well, but sure how the folk did clap their hands and +roar for you to sing again. They loved to hear you purely an' no wonder. +I never heard anything like it. But bless me, Lavinia--beggin' your +pardon, which I ought to say Miss Fenton--you don't seem overjoyed." + +"The girl's a-tired out," put in the old lady. "I mind it was just the +same with my poor mistress Molly. She sometimes couldn't move one foot +in front o' t'other when she comed off the stage." + +"That's true enough," said Lavinia wearily. "It's the excitement. I +shall be myself again after a night's rest." + +"Aye, to be sure. Some supper, as is all ready, and then to bed," cried +Betty. + +The prescription was good enough, but so far as the supper was concerned +Lavinia could not, to use Betty's words, "make much of a fist of it." +She was glad enough to escape the clack of tongues and the fire of +questions and crawl to her room. + +Slowly the hours crept by, and when the early summer dawn broke Lavinia +was still awake watching the faint streaks of pale gold through the +little latticed window. + +The rest in bed had not brought repose. Her mind was troubled. Lancelot +Vane's unexpected appearance and the story of his persecution strove for +mastery with the recollection of her triumph at the concert and had +overpowered it. All the old tenderness, the joy of being near him +revived. It was useless to ask why, useless to call herself weak and +silly to be drawn towards a man who had no force of character, whose +prospects were remote, whose health was undermined. The impression she +once had that he was faithless had not wholly disappeared, and she tried +to banish it. Her imagination found for him all manner of excuses. Yet +she could not decide that she wanted to see him again. One moment it +seemed as though the blank which had come into her life since their +rupture had been filled up now that he had come back, the next that it +would have been better if he had not. She had gradually come to regard +her profession and all it meant to her in the future as the only thing +that mattered, and now in a flash at the sight of him all was +uncertainty and distraction. + +But for the second time Vane had risked his life for her! Mr. Gay said +it was on her account that he had fought with Dorrimore, and Mr. Gay +would not tell an untruth. After all, this was everything. How could she +think otherwise than kindly of a man in spite of his faults, who was +ever ready to champion her? And she dropped off to sleep no longer +saying that she would not meet him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +"MR. RICH HAS GIVEN ME AN ENGAGEMENT" + + +Lavinia slept late and was only aroused by Betty hammering at her door. + +"Get up--get up, Miss Lavvy. A fine gentleman's a-waiting to see 'ee. +'Tis him as I see go out with 'ee last night from the concert." + +"Mr. Gay," said Lavinia to herself. Then aloud: "I won't be long. What's +the time?" + +"Pretty nigh mid-day. I didn't wake 'ee afore 'cause I knowed you was +tired. He's a nice pleasant gentleman, sure. I wanted to hurry granny +out o' the room, but he wouldn't hear of it. I left 'em a-talking about +play matters. Once get mother on to _that_ she'll go on fur ever." + +Lavinia sprang out of bed and hurried over her toilet. She presented +herself quite flushed and flustered. Gay received her with a smile and +noted her animation with pleasure. He unrolled a number of sheets of +music. The paper was rough and the notes, engraved and not printed as +to-day, were cramped and scratchy. + +"You know some of these tunes may be, Polly; those you don't know you'll +soon learn. I'm going to speak to Mr. Palmer about your singing two or +three just to see how the people take 'em. The words will be the old +ones, not my new verse. You won't have to trouble about my words yet +awhile." + +Gay ran over the titles of the old ballads--Purcell's "What shall I do +to show how much I love her?" "Grim King of the Ghosts," "Thomas I +cannot," "Now ponder well ye parents dear," "Pretty parrot say," "Over +the hills and far away," "Gin thou wert my ain thing," "Cease your +funning," "All in the Downs." + +"Those are the principal songs," went on Gay. + +"Yes, I know a few, but I've never heard of the others," cried Lavinia a +little dismayed. "How shall I learn the tunes?" + +"You must come to my lodgings in the village and I'll play them over to +you on the flute. My friend, Dr. Arbuthnot, will be pleased to hear you +sing 'em. It will do him good--perhaps charm away his gout. The doctor +knows you." + +"Does he, sir? I don't remember him." + +"He was at Mr. Pope's villa the day you sang to us. I must have a +harpsichord and we must have Dr. Pepusch to tell us what he thinks." + +Lavinia heard all this with great delight. She felt she was really not +only on the ladder of success but was climbing upwards safely. + +Gay then fell to talking of other matters, and incidentally mentioned +that John Rich was back from Bath where he had been taking the waters, +and that he must be talked into engaging Lavinia permanently when the +season opened in October. + +"It won't be singing yet awhile Polly, so don't be disappointed if you +have to continue to walk on the stage and come off again. I'm told his +'Harlequin' hasn't finished its run so he'll open with that and go on +till my opera's ready. I'm all impatience to see you in it." + +Then patting her cheek and chucking her under the chin Gay took his +leave. + +It would have been hard for Lavinia to say how the day passed. She +walked on the heath for no other purpose, so she said, save to revel in +the sunshine and pure air. She had a secret hope that she might +encounter Lancelot Vane, but embarrassment was mingled with that hope. +It would be better not, she felt, yet she was disappointed all the same +when after strolling about for half an hour she saw nothing of him, and +banishing her vain thoughts she went on to the concert room to inquire +if she were wanted to sing that night. + +"Yes, to be sure," said Palmer. "You're all the talk. I've seen Mr. Gay, +and he tells me he's given you some songs he would like you to sing. +Suppose you go over a couple now for me?" + +A harpsichord was in the room and Palmer asked her to sing what she +liked and he would fill in an accompaniment as best he could as she had +not brought the music. She selected "Now ponder well ye parents dear," +the tender pathos of which had always appealed to her, and "Thomas I +cannot," a merry ditty which she knew from her old experience as a +street singer would be sure to please. Palmer was delighted with both. +The first he said brought tears to his eyes and the second put him in +good humour. + +"My dear, you could not have made a better choice. I expect a crowded +room and you'll conquer 'em all." + +And so she did. There was no longer coldness--no longer indifference. +Everybody was agog with expectation, everybody was pleased. Lavinia's +triumph was complete. Night after night it was the same. Palmer had +never had so successful a season. He put money in his pocket and he paid +his new star fairly well. + +Two or three times a week for over a month Lavinia went to Gay's +lodgings and rehearsed the songs she did not know and those also with +which she was already acquainted. The words Gay gave her to sing were +not those to which she was accustomed and she found the change +confusing. Moreover, at each rehearsal some alterations in the words +were made, occasionally by Gay, occasionally at the suggestion of Dr. +Arbuthnot. But she never wearied, and so she was sufficiently rewarded +for her trouble when Gay bestowed upon her a word of praise. + +But Lancelot Vane? + +He came not in spite of his earnest entreaty that she would meet him. At +first she was wounded, then she was indignant. She remembered how +faithless he had proved, and all her bitterness against him and Sally +Salisbury revived. Then came a revulsion of feeling. Why should he not +be ill? Nay, he might even be dead. Perhaps worse. If he had carried out +his despairing threat? She pictured him floating on the surface of a +Hampstead pond and a shudder went over her at the gruesome thought. +Finally she subsided into dull resignation and strove to think no more +about him. + +It was September; with the colder weather came the waning of the +Hampstead season, the fashionable folk were returning to London and +preparing for masquerades, ridottos, the theatres and the opera. The +Great Room concerts were but thinly attended and for a whole fortnight +Lavinia had not sung twice. But this did not matter to her. She had been +written to by John Rich, and he had engaged her at a little higher +salary than he had hitherto paid. + +Lavinia sang for the last time at Hampstead and quitted the Great Room +not without regrets and doubts. Would she be as successful at the Duke's +Theatre? Would she have her chance? She well knew the rivalries a +rising actress would have to encounter. But what disturbed her most was +that Gay's enthusiasm over his opera did not seem so keen as it had +been. She dared not ask him the cause of his depression. She could only +watch his varying moods and hope the melancholy ones would pass. + +Hitherto Betty had always been waiting for her to accompany her across +the heath, but this last night she was not in her usual place at the +door. Lavinia was not surprised as Betty had a bad cold. She hurried +out, anxious to get home. Some one a yard or so from the entrance shrank +into the darkness as she passed out but not so rapidly that he was not +noticed and recognised. + +Lavinia was full of generous impulses that evening. Everything had gone +so well with her, and the future in spite of her doubts was so bright. + +"Mr. Vane," she cried and moved a step towards him. "Do I frighten you +that you don't want to see me?" + +"No," she heard him say, but it was with difficulty for his voice was so +low. "I'm not frightened but I'm afraid of what you might say or think." + +"You don't give me a chance of the one or the other," she retorted. "You +don't keep your own appointments. 'Tis a bad habit of forgetfulness with +women, it's worse with men." + +"You're right, but in my case 'tis not forgetfulness. I've seen you +every time you've sung. I've not missed once." + +"And you've never acknowledged my presence! Thank you." + +"I was at fault there, I suppose. I kept my happiness to myself. I ought +to have thanked you for the joy of seeing and hearing you but I was +doubtful whether I should not be intruding." + +"It would have been no intrusion," rejoined Lavinia her tone softening. + +"Then I hope my admiration is not an impertinence." + +"Oh, you're too modest, Mr. Vane. You've no confidence in yourself--save +when you've need to strike a blow." + +"I've no confidence that I'm acceptable to you and--but may I accompany +you across the heath? I notice that your usual bodyguard is absent +to-night." + +"Oh, you've noticed _that_. May be that bodyguard prevented what you're +pleased to call your intrusion." + +"It made no difference. Had you been alone I should have taken care that +you reached home safely but you would not have known that I was within +call. May I?" + +He had offered his arm. She accepted it. Now that he was close to her +she could see that he had vastly improved. His unhealthy pallor was +gone, his eyes had lost their glassiness, his step was firm, his body +more elastic. + +They set out. For a few yards not a word was said. Lavinia was the first +to speak. + +"I hope the Hampstead ponds have lost their attraction," said she +lightly. + +"Indeed yes--thanks to you. My mother says it is due to the Hampstead +air, but I know better. Is it true that I'm no longer to drink of the +elixir that is restoring me to health and sanity? Are you going to leave +Hampstead?" + +"Yes, I'm returning to London. Mr. Rich has given me an engagement." + +"I congratulate you. You're fortunate, but your fortune's not more than +you deserve. You're going to be famous. I'm sure of it." + +"Well--and you? You'll be writing something soon, won't you?" + +"I think not. I've no mind to court failure a second time. My father has +secured me a post at a mercers in Ludgate Hill. I'm still to mingle with +books but they're not of the sort which used to interest me. They have +to do with figures. I've undertaken to keep the accounts." + +"I wish you success. Mind you keep 'em correctly. I've my doubts about +that," rejoined Lavinia with a little laugh. "But I mustn't discourage +you." + +"You'll never do that. I love even your chiding." + +"That's nonsense." + +"It's true. I swear it." + +The talk was drifting into a personal channel and Lavinia swiftly +changed the subject. The rest of the way was occupied in friendly chat. +At parting Lancelot would have kissed her hand but she adroitly avoided +his homage. Not because she was averse but because she thought it +discreet. + +Lavinia went to bed that night content with the world and with herself. +She felt a secret pleasure that she had in a way brought Vane back to +life though how she had done it she could not explain. At any rate, +there was no magic about it. It was a very ordinary thing--no +romance--and certainly no love. So at least she argued and ended by +thinking she had convinced herself. + +In London Lavinia went back to her old lodgings in Little Queen Street, +and revived her acquaintance with Mrs. Egleton. The latter received her +with much effusion, which puzzled Lavinia not a little. The cause, +however, was revealed when the lady explained how she had heard from +John Rich that when "The Beggar's Opera" was put into rehearsal he was +going to give her the part of Lucy. + +"And you, my dear, are to play Polly." + +"So Mr. Gay says, but I don't know for certain." + +"Have you read the play?" + +"No, I've only learned my songs." + +"And the duet with me?"--"I'm bubbled." + +"No. I know nothing about that." + +"It's terribly hard, but there's plenty of time to get it by heart. I'm +dreadfully nervous though. We have to sing it without any instruments, +not even a harpsichord. All the songs are to be like that." + +"Oh.... Won't it all sound very poor?" + +"Of course it will. You see that mean hunks Rich won't go to the expense +of a band. He doesn't know how the opera will take the people. It may be +hissed off the stage the first night. I don't trouble my head about +politics--I can't say I know what the rubbish means--but I'm told +there's a good deal in the opera that's likely to give offence." + +"I can't think Mr. Gay would write anything likely to offend anybody." + +"Can't you? Well, if the Church can easily give offence, much more +likely a playwriter. Why, wasn't the Bishop of Rochester sent to the +Tower for what he said, and isn't he at this very moment in Paris and +afraid to show his nose in England? Oh, you can't call your soul your +own now-a-days. We poor playfolk may bless our lucky stars that we've +only got to say the words set down for us and not our own. Mr. Gay who +writes 'em for us'll have the worry and he's got it too, what with +Rich's scraping and saving and his insisting upon Mr. Quin playing in +the opera." + +Lavinia now saw why Gay had been depressed. But Mr. Quin the surly, who +only played in tragedies, what had he to do with Gay's opera? She put +the question to Mrs. Egleton. + +"Nothing at all. He hasn't any more idea of singing than an old crow. +It's ridiculous, but Rich will have his way. I tell you flatly, Lavinia, +if Quin plays the part of Captain Macheath he'll be laughed at and so +shall we, and the piece will be damned." + +Lavinia thought so too. She had, as Mrs. Squeamish in Wycherley's play, +once acted with Quin on the occasion of his benefit and she well +remembered his stiff, stilted style and how he domineered over +everybody. She felt rather dismayed but she could only resign herself to +the situation. There was the consolation that the opera was not likely +to be staged for some time and things might alter. In the theatre any +sudden change was possible. + +For weeks, indeed to Christmas, Lavinia remained one of the "lasses" in +"The Rape of Proserpine," but she was quite contented, for Lancelot Vane +was permanently in London in his new post and they were constantly +together. Every night he was waiting for her outside the stage door and +saw her across the Fields to Little Queen Street. It was not safe, he +protested, for her to be in that dark dreary waste alone at night and he +was right. Lincoln's Inn Fields was one of the worst places in London. +The most daring robberies even in daylight were of common occurrence. + +Despite the short days of winter they took long walks together. On the +day "betwixt Saturday and Monday," like the lad and the lass of Carey's +famous ballad at that time all the rage, to them Sunday was the day of +days. Sometimes they strolled to the pleasant fields of Islington and +Hornsey; sometimes they revisited Hampstead, and occasionally by way of +the Westminster and Lambeth ferry to the leafy groves of Camberwell, and +the Dulwich Woods. They never talked of love; they were contented and +happy, may be because both were conscious they _were_ in love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"POLLY IS TO BE MY NAME FOR EVER AFTER" + + +The new year brought the first rehearsal of "The Beggar's Opera." +Hippisley with his rich, unctuous humour was Peachum, and not less well +suited to Lockit was Jack Hall's quaint face and naive manner. James +Spiller, the favourite of the gods, was Mat o' the Mint, and the solemn +visaged Quin essayed Macheath. Lavinia as Polly was both excited and +nervous, and Lucy (Mrs. Egleton) not less so. The rest of the cast +comprised actors and actresses of experience, and they went through +their parts philosophically and without enthusiasm. The motive and the +plot and the many songs made up a play which was to them quite novel, +and they were somewhat bewildered to know what to do with it. Gay +hovered about unable to decide whether his opera was going to be a +thumping success or a dismal failure. The general impression was in the +direction of the latter, but no one save Quin gave vent to his or her +sentiments. + +"Well, what d'ye think, Mr. Quin?" asked Gay anxiously when the +rehearsal was over. + +Quin refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff before he answered. + +"Humph--can't say--can't say. It'll be a riddle to the audience. Bad +thing to puzzle 'em, eh?" + +"Surely it's plain enough. But if it's amusing, what else matters?" + +"I won't put my opinion against yours, Mr. Gay and Mr. Pope's, but----" + +Quin shrugged his shoulders and stalked away, and Lavinia, who was +watching the two from a distance, ran across the stage, her face a +little troubled. She had interpreted Quin's gesture correctly. + +"Oh, Mr. Gay----" she stopped. Gay was looking so sad. + +"Mr. Quin doesn't like the opera, Polly. What do you say?" + +"Mr. Quin doesn't like it because he can't act the part," cried Lavinia +indignantly. "None of us like him in it any more than he does himself. +He's not my idea of a highwayman." + +"Why, what do you know about highwaymen? But I forgot, of course. Wasn't +the coach that brought you to London from Mr. Pope's villa stopped by +one?" + +"Yes," rejoined Lavinia hastily, "but he was a brutal ruffian. Not your +Captain Macheath at all. Mr. Quin chills me. I can't fancy myself in +love with him. Nor can Mrs. Egleton. She says she could no more quarrel +over him than she could over a stick. His singing and his voice give us +the 'creeps.'" + +"Faith, both are bad enough, but Mr. Rich seems bound to him." + +"Why doesn't he try Tom Walker? When Tom isn't drunk, he sings like an +angel." + +"I know--I know. Well, we'll see." + +But nothing was done, and at the second rehearsal Quin's Captain +Macheath was more droningly dismal than ever. A dead silence followed +the dance with which the last act concludes, and amid the stillness came +from somewhere behind the scenes the sound of a mellow tenor voice +trolling Macheath's lively melody, "When the heart of a man's depressed +with care." + +"By the lord," quoth Quin, "that's the voice of Tom Walker. He's the man +for Macheath. Mr. Rich, I resign the part. It was never meant for me. +Give it to Walker." + +John Rich grunted, but he made no objection. It so happened that Walker +could act as well as sing, and that made all the difference in Rich's +estimation. So one great obstacle to success was removed. But there were +others. The duets and the choruses sounded terribly thin without an +instrument to support them. The "tricky" duet between Polly and Lucy, +"I'm bubbled," broke down constantly, and both declared they would never +sing it properly. But Rich was not to be talked out of his whim to have +no accompaniments. + +One morning in the midst of the rehearsal, who should walk on the stage +but the stately Duchess of Queensberry. Lavinia, in quite a flutter, +whispered to Walker the name of the distinguished visitor. John Rich +received her with great deference and conducted her to a seat. + +"Go on, please, Mr. Rich, don't let me interrupt your business," said +the great lady affably. + +The rehearsal went on and eyes of the company furtively wandered to the +face of the duchess, anxious to know what so powerful a personage and so +keen and outspoken a critic thought of the performance. But the serene +face of her grace never changed. + +The rehearsing of one act was over, and there was an interval before +commencing the next one. The duchess turned to Gay. + +"How is this, Mr. Gay? Where are the instruments? Don't you have them at +rehearsals?" + +"Mr. Rich means to do without a band for the singing. He says it isn't +necessary." + +"Rich is a fool," retorted her grace with much emphasis. "He knows +nothing about it. Send him to me." + +Gay went about his errand half pleased, for he quite agreed with the +duchess, and half in trepidation. A quarrel between Rich and the lady +autocrat might cause the opera to end in disaster. + +Rich dared not offend Queensberry's duchess whose opinion went for so +much among the aristocracy. The stage was practically dependent on its +noble patrons. Without them a "benefit," which every notable member of a +theatrical company looked forward to as making good the insufficiency of +their salaries, would be nothing without the support of the nobility, +who, when in the mood, would readily unloose their purse strings. Rich +therefore made but feeble resistance and the impetuous Kitty had her +way. + +The band, small as it was, just half-a-dozen instruments, could not be +called together at a moment's notice. Rich accordingly invited his +visitor to come the following day, when all would be in readiness. He +was as good as his word, and the duchess was graciously pleased to +express her satisfaction. Polly and Lucy went back to their lodgings in +high spirits. + +January 29th was fixed for the production of the opera, and the days +sped rapidly. Everybody concerned was on tenterhooks. Who could say how +the audience would take a play the like of which they had never seen? +There was also danger in the political allusions contained in many of +the verses. Sir Robert Walpole, England's most powerful minister of +state, had taken a box and would be present with a party of his friends. +What would _he_ think? A riot was not beyond the bounds of possibility. +The play might be suppressed. A prosecution for seditious proceedings +might follow. Anything might happen. + +Meanwhile the house was packed. Every seat on each side of the stage +reserved for the "quality" was occupied. There was just room for the +actors and no more. The gallery was crammed with a mob--a host of +footmen prone to unruly behaviour, butchers from Clare Market ready to +applaud their favourite Jemmy Spiller, Covent Garden salesmen and +porters--a miscellaneous rabble that might easily become turbulent. + +In the pit were well to do tradesmen and their wives cheek by jowl with +well seasoned playgoers who had seen every stage celebrity and every +famous tragedy and comedy for the past quarter of a century, who were +well versed in all the traditional "business" of the boards, who in fact +were the real critics to be pleased--or offended. Into the second row +Lancelot Vane had squeezed himself all expectation, with eyes and ears +for no one but Polly Peachum. + +Gay's friends filled a box next to that occupied by the Duke of Argyll, +an enthusiastic patron of the stage. Gay himself was there supported on +either side by Pope, Dr. Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke and others. Dean Swift, +who had had so much to do with the inception of the opera and who had +contributed to it some of the most stinging verse, would have been +present had he not been in Ireland at the death-bed of his beloved +Stella, and so also would have been Congreve but that he was blind and +in feeble health. + +It was seen at the very commencement that the audience was not disposed +to accept the innovations of the "Beggar's Opera" without protest. To +begin with there was no time-honoured prologue, and worse, there was no +preliminary overture. They could not understand the dialogue between a +player and the beggar, introduced as the author, with which the opera +opens. They grumbled loudly. They thought they were to be defrauded of +their usual music and they wouldn't allow the dialogue to proceed. Jack +Hall who as a comedian was acceptable all round was sent on by the +troubled manager to explain. + +Hall advanced to the edge of the stage. There were no footlights in +those days. Favourite though Jack Hall was not a hand nor a voice was +raised to greet him. Jack Hall lost his nerve--which, however, as it +turned out was the most fortunate thing which could have happened--and +this is what he stammered out: + +"Ladies and gentlemen, we--we--beg you'll not call for first and second +music because you all know there is never any music at all at an opera!" + +A roar of laughter followed this unique apology accentuated by the +unconsciously comical twist of Hall's face with which the audience were +so familiar; good humour was restored, the dialogue was permitted to be +finished and the grumblers were further appeased by the playing of Dr. +Pepusch's overture. + +More pitfalls had to be got over safely. Every eye was turned on Sir +Robert's heavy rubicund, impassive face when Peachum sang the verse: + + + "The priest calls the lawyer a cheat, + The lawyer be-knaves the divine, + And the statesman because he's so great, + Thinks his trade as honest as mine!" + + +The statesman in the box, whatever he might have felt, was far too +astute to show any sign of ill temper. His eternal smile was as smug as +ever and so also was it over the duet in the second act: + + + "When you censure the age + Be cautious and sage + Lest the courtiers offended should be; + If you mention vice or bribe, + 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, + Each cries 'That was levelled at me.'" + + +The audience were somewhat timid in applauding this, though all felt how +apt it was, until they saw Walpole actually clapping his hands, and then +they followed suit right heartily. + +Still success was not assured. True Polly captivated her hearers with +her sweet natural delivery of "Can love be controlled by advice?" and +afterwards with the tender pathos of "Oh ponder well," and there were +roars of laughter and half suppressed chuckles from the men and titters +from the women at the witty talk and the cynical hits at love and +matrimonial felicity, but it was not until Spiller led the rousing +choruses, "Fill every glass," and "Let us take the road," the latter +adapted to the march from Handel's opera of "Rinaldo," then all the +rage, that they were won over. The experienced Duke of Argyll cried out +aloud enough for Pope in the next box to hear him, "It'll do--it must +do--I see it in the eyes of 'em." And the duke was right. + +When all was said and done pretty Polly Peachum was the pivot around +which success revolved. Within twenty-four hours all the town was +talking of her bewitching face, her artless manner, her sweet voice. The +sordid surroundings of Newgate, its thieves, male and female, its thieve +takers, gave zest to her naturalness and simplicity. Moreover she was +not in a fashionable dress, she wore no hoops (and neither did Lucy) and +this in itself was a novelty and a contrast. + +It was some time after the performance that Lavinia--whom everyone now +called Polly--left the theatre. The noblemen who had seats on the stage +crowded round her overwhelming her with compliments and looks of +admiration. One of their number, a man of portly presence at least twice +her age, whose face suggested good nature but little else, was assiduous +in his attentions. Lavinia accepted his flattery as a matter of course, +and thought nothing more about him. She was told he was the Duke of +Bolton, but duke or earl made no difference to her. Some of her titled +admirers offered to escort her home but she shook her head laughingly +and refused everyone. She knew very well that Lancelot Vane would be +waiting for her as usual at the stage door, and she did not intend +either to disappoint him or make him jealous. + +She joined him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with excitement. +Vane looked eagerly and anxiously into her face and gave a little sigh. + +"Well," said she, "are you disappointed with me?" + +"Disappointed! Good heavens, no. Why Lavinia--" + +"Lavinia," she cried tossing her head coquettishly. "Polly if you +please. Polly is to be my name for ever after. Everybody knows me now as +Polly, though dear Mr. Gay called me so long and long ago. Isn't it +wonderful how his words have come true?" + +"Mr. Gay is a clever man--a great man. I wish--" + +"Yes, and what do you wish? Something nice I hope." + +"I don't know about that. My wish was that I had been born a real poet +and dramatist and had written 'The Beggar's Opera' for you. But my wits +are dull--like myself." + +"Please don't be foolish. I want you to tell me how I sang--how I acted. +You didn't mind Tom Walker making love to me?" + +"No, I wished my arm had been round you instead of his, that was all." + +"Wishing again! Can't you do something beyond wishing?" + +She flashed a swift look at him and then the dark silky lashes drooped. +He must have been dull indeed not to have understood. His arm was about +her. He drew her closer to him passionately. It was the first time, +though he had over and over again longed to do so. + +"I love you--don't you know I do?" he whispered. + +"I've sometimes thought as much but you've been very slow in telling +me," she murmured lightly. + +"Ah, I was afraid what your answer might be. Ridicule and a reproof for +my impertinence. Even now I don't realise my happiness." + +"Then you _must_," she cried imperiously. "How do you know I shan't be +whirled away from you unless you hold me very tight? Oh, Lance, I've a +misgiving--" + +She stopped. She shivered slightly and he drew her cloak tightly about +her and kissed the cherry lips within the hood. + +"You're cold, dearest. Let us hurry. I ought not to have lingered," said +he. + +"No, no. I'm not a bit cold. I only had a sort of feeling that--kiss me +again." + +He was quick to obey and her kisses were as fervent as his. + +"See me to my door and go quickly," she murmured. + +"To-morrow, dear love, we shall meet each other again," was his reply. + +"Why yes--yes." + +"Many times more." + +She nodded. Something seemed to choke her utterance. One more kiss and +she vanished into the house. + +Vane remained for a minute or two gazing at the dwelling that enshrined +his divinity and lost in rapture. Then he slowly wandered to his +lodgings marvelling at the glimpse of heaven which to his imagination +had been revealed to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + +Before the week was out the only topic in which the town took any +interest was "The Beggar's Opera," and the "all Conquering Polly," as an +advertisement setting forth the attractions of a miniature screen +designed as a memento of the opera, had it. In a score of ways +enterprising tradesmen adapted the scenes and the songs to their wares +and in all Polly was the principal feature. Polly became the fashion +everywhere. Amateur flautists played her songs, amateur vocalists +warbled them. Hardly a week passed without one daily journal or the +other burst into verse in her praise. + +As for Polly herself she was inundated with love letters, some written +seriously, others purely out of admiration. Offers of marriage came both +personally and through the post. The world of gallants was at her feet. +She laughed at most of her would-be lovers and listened to none. The +good natured Duke of Bolton approached her constantly and was never +tired of going to the opera. Seated as he was on the stage it was easy +enough for him to express his adoration. He was also ever ready with +presents which he proffered with so respectful an air that she could +hardly refuse them. But what did the duke mean? Had he not a duchess +already? True, he was not on the best of terms with her. He had been +forced into marriage by his father and he and his wife had been +separated some six years. But this made no difference. The duchess was +still in the world. + +Polly--henceforth she dropped the Lavinia--heard what his grace had to +say but gave him no encouragement beyond smiling bewitchingly now and +again. She did not dislike him, but she did not care for him. Lancelot +Vane was still the hero of her romance and that romance would never die. +Sometimes she amused herself and Lancelot too by telling him of the +offers of marriage she had received and how she had refused them, but +she never mentioned the Duke of Bolton. + +One night--it was the twenty-second performance of the opera--Lancelot +Vane was in his accustomed place at the end of the second row in the +pit. There was a vacant seat on the other side of his, and half way +through the third act a late comer was heard growling and without saying +by your leave or with your leave attempted to force himself past Vane +into the empty seat. + +Lance looked up angry at the rudeness of the fellow. He started. He +recognised Jeremy Rofflash-Rofflash very much the worse for the drink, +very much the worse in every way since Vane had last set eyes upon him. + +Things had gone very badly with the swashbuckler. Archibald Dorrimore, +his old patron, was dead, killed by dicing, drinking and other vices. +Rofflash had had to take to the "road" more than ever and he'd had very +bad luck. A bullet from a coach passenger's pistol had struck his knee +and he now limped. He was nearly always drunk and when drunk all his old +hatreds were uppermost. Directly he saw Vane, his bleary eyes glistened +and his lips tightened over his uneven teeth and the ugly gaps between. + +"Devil take me, if it isn't the cockerel whose feathers I've sworn to +pluck. Come to ogle the young trollop on the stage, I'll swear. If I +know anything about the hussy, she'll turn you down for the first spark +who flings a handful of guineas in her lap." + +Jeremy's gruff rasping tones were heard all over the house. Polly and +Lucy were singing their duet "Would I might be hanged," and both cast +indignant looks at the side of the pit whence the interruption came. But +they could only hear, not see, so dimly was the theatre lighted. +Meanwhile Vane had sprung to his feet. + +"You lie you ruffian," he shouted and his hand went to his sword. + +The people in the front and back benches rose; the women screamed; one +of the theatre attendants who chanced to be near seized Rofflash who +struggled violently and swore loudly. Some of the audience came to the +attendant's assistance and the fellow was flung out. The uproar soon +subsided--it had not lasted more than a couple of minutes, the music +went on and Polly thought no more about it. She had not the slightest +idea that the chief actors in it so nearly concerned herself. + +The sequel to the discomposing interruption was totally unpremeditated. +Polly was the "toast of the town," the idol of the sparks of fashion. +Their applause was uproarious when she and Lucy recommenced the duet, +but this sympathetic encouragement was not enough for the more ardent +spirits. When she issued from the stage door she found awaiting her a +bodyguard of young aristocrats dressed in the height of the mode and in +the gayest of colours. At her appearance every man's sword flashed from +its scabbard and was uplifted to do her honour. + +Never was such a triumph. No wonder her heart bounded and her cheeks +flushed with pleasure. She smiled right and left and bowed; the rapiers +on either side crossed each other over her head and formed a canopy +under which she walked with a dainty grace. She was not permitted to +pass from beneath its shelter. The canopy kept pace with her, closing +behind. And in this way the procession set out to cross Lincoln's Inn +Fields amid cheers and shouts of "Pretty Polly Peachum!" + +It would seem as though the services of Polly's protectors were not +wholly unneeded. As she emerged from the door and the gallants closed +round her there was a sudden movement in the mob, a fellow forced his +way through, hurling curses at anyone who tried to stop him. Apparently +his object was to get to a man standing close to the bodyguard. Anyway, +when the intruder was behind this man a woman's scream pierced the din +of voices, then came the report of a pistol and the man staggered. Those +nearest him, seized with panic, fell back and he sank to the ground. + +A woman was seen to fling herself on her knees, bend over the body and +gaze into the face already becoming ashen. The next instant she sprang +to her feet, her features drawn, her eyes blazing. Pointing to the +assassin who was rushing through the crowd she begged someone to stop +him, but the big pistol he was flourishing deterred them. + +"Cowards!" she screamed in fury. "Will no one seize a murderer? If +you're men you'll help me." + +She made a wild rush in the direction the ruffian had taken and a score +or so of apprentices and a handful of Clare Market butchers recovering +from their surprise joined her. + +Meanwhile Polly and her escort gaily went on their way. They were dimly +conscious of the affray but such occurrences at night and especially in +Lincoln's Inn Fields were frequent, and not one of the party heeded. How +indeed could Polly imagine that her romance had ended in a tragedy, that +the man lying so still, his white face upturned to the moonlit sky, was +her lover, Lancelot Vane--that the man who had done him to death was +Jeremy Rofflash--that the woman in hot chase of his murderer was Sally +Salisbury? + +Rofflash had made for the network of courts and allies of Clare Market +hoping to double upon his pursuers and gain the Strand, and then hurry +to the Alsatia of Whitefriars. But some of those following knew the +intricacies of Clare Market better than Rofflash, and he twisted and +turned like a hunted hare, his difficulties momentarily increasing, for +as the excited mob fought their way through the narrow lanes their +numbers swelled. True, Jeremy Rofflash made his way to the Strand +without being captured, but he failed to reach Whitefriars. The Strand +and Fleet Street gave his pursuers a better chance. But because of his +pistol none dared touch him. + +Despite his limp he could run. Along Ludgate skirting St. Paul's, he was +soon in Cheapside. By this time Sally Salisbury was nearly exhausted, +and in St. Paul's Churchyard she jumped into a hackney coach and shaking +her purse at the driver bade him join in the pursuit. The Poultry, the +Royal Exchange were left behind, but the coach--with Sally inside +continually calling upon the driver to go faster, at the same time +promising him any reward he liked to ask--gradually drew upon the +fugitive. The latter was close to the road leading to London Bridge, and +turning, he fired his second barrel at the horse and the animal stumbled +and fell. + +Rofflash thought he was safe, but he was not aware that the leader of +his pursuers was Sally Salisbury and that she knew perfectly well why he +was running towards the bridge. She sprang from the now useless coach +and called upon the crowd to follow her. Meanwhile Rofflash had +distanced his pursuers. + +"The apothecary's shop on London Bridge," she screamed. + +Dr. Mountchance at that moment was engaged in what to him was his +greatest pleasure in life--counting his gold. He was in the midst of +this absorbing occupation when he heard three separate knocks at his +outside door given in a peculiarly distinctive way. He knew Jeremy's +signal and he hurried his gold into an iron bound coffer which he +locked. + +"If the captain's made a good haul so much the better," he muttered. +"It's time he did. He's had the devil's bad luck of late." + +The old man shuffled to the door and shot back the bolts. Rofflash +precipitated himself inside with such haste and violence that he nearly +upset Mountchance. + +"Lock the door," he gasped. "Quick. I've a pack of hungry wolves at my +heels." + +He leaned against a heavy piece of furniture hardly able to speak while +the apothecary hastily fastened the door. Scarcely had he finished than +yells and heavy footsteps were heard; there came heavy thuds and fierce +kicks followed by repeated hammering. The door was well protected by +iron panels and besides its bolts a stout iron bar from post to post +helped to make it secure. + +The two men looked at each other and Mountchance trembled. The crowd +outside were not officers of the law, neither were they soldiery. What +had caused them to hunt down Rofflash? Not because he had committed a +robbery on the King's highway. The rabble had a secret sympathy with +highwaymen. + +"What have you done?" whispered the old man through his white lips. + +"Shot a man. It was a fair fight--or might have been had it come to a +tussle." + +Mountchance knew Rofflash to be a hardened liar. The truth probably was +that he had committed a murder. But there was no time to argue the +point. To judge by the terrific blows which came at regular intervals +something much more formidable than an ordinary hammer was being used. +Then there was the sound of splintering wood. The door sturdy as it was +would not stand much more. As a matter of fact the mob had procured a +stout wooden beam from somewhere, twelve or fourteen feet long and were +making it serve as a battering-ram. + +"Damnation! I'm not going to be trapped," roared Rofflash, "I know the +secret way to the chapel. You stay here and face 'em." + +"No. If that murderous mob doesn't find you they'll turn upon me. I'm an +old man but they'll have no mercy," whined Mountchance. + +"You fool. Can't you see that some one _inside_ the house must have +bolted and barred the door? If they don't find you they'll search until +they do. You must tell them that I'm not in the place--that you haven't +seen me. That'll satisfy 'em and they'll go away quickly." + +"It's you that's the fool. Somebody must have seen you enter--how else +did they know you were here?" + +Another ominous splintering noise, then the sharp crack of ripping wood. + +"No more of this damned nonsense," muttered Rofflash, and swinging his +arm he gave Mountchance a blow with the flat of his hand, toppling him +over. Without waiting to see what injury he had inflicted Rofflash +rushed to a tall cabinet, entered it and closed the doors after him just +as a yell of savage joy was raised outside. The iron bar was still +across the entrance but there was a jagged aperture above and below. A +couple of seconds more and the cabinet was empty. Rofflash had +disappeared through a secret door at the back. + +Mountchance's house, as already mentioned, was really an adjunct of St. +Thomas's chapel, so far at least as the foundation was concerned. This +foundation had once formed the lower chapel or crypt and was then the +only distinctive relic of the bridge built by Peter of Colechurch, in +the thirteenth century. Rofflash descended the uneven loose bricks of +the narrow winding staircase into the dungeon-like apartment. The stone +floor was not much above the level of the river at high tide and a +lancet window on each side of the bridge admitted a glimmer of light in +the day time. It was now pitch dark. + +Rofflash groped his way over the slimy floor to a small door which he +knew opened on to an abutment between two arches. He only did this by +feeling the wall as he went. He hoped when outside to hail a passing +wherry. At any rate it was unlikely his hiding place would be discovered +by any of the mob. + +In the meantime the shop and room above were filled with a rabble more +than half of which was out for plunder. Mountchance was lying on the +floor unconscious, but no one bothered about him. In the opinion of some +it was perhaps as well, as he would be unable to prevent them doing as +they liked. This opinion was not held by Sally Salisbury. She was +convinced Rofflash was in the house though she had not seen him actually +enter. It angered her to think that Mountchance who could have told her +anything was as good as dead. She called upon the crowd to search for +the murderer but they turned a deaf ear to her entreaties. They were +much more interested in looting the place; and finding the iron bound +coffer and hearing the chink of coin within, they attacked it savagely +and succeeded in smashing the lock. + +The sight of gold was too much for them. They scrambled, they fought, +they trampled upon each other. The yellow metal acted upon them like +strong drink. In the midst of the pandemonium came a deafening +explosion, a vivid flash of red, a volume of acrid suffocating vapour. +Another explosion and men came rushing from Mountchance's +laboratory--terror written in their faces. Helter-skelter the crowd +darted from the house forcing Sally Salisbury with them whether she +would or not. In the mad fight for gold large glass bottles filled with +acids, alcohol and other inflammable liquids had been upset and smashed, +and the smouldering fire in the furnace did the rest. What with the +bundles of dried herbs which burnt like so much tinder and the woodwork, +the panelled walls and furniture, nothing could save the house. + +In the hurry and scramble Sally had been wedged against the wall +surmounting the central and largest arch. Upon this arch no house had +been built. Below the spot where she was held a prisoner the river was +rushing with its monotonous roar as if rejoicing at or indifferent to +the terrible tragedy above. At first she saw nothing but clouds of +suffocating smoke pouring from the windows, then showers of sparks +floating downwards and vanishing in the water, and finally tongues of +fire hissing and roaring from within the house and mingling in one huge +flaring flame. + +Looking over the parapet she caught sight of a gaunt figure on the +abutment now strongly illuminated, now in deep shadow according to the +height and strength of the flames and the wayward wind. So fantastic, so +grotesque was this figure, his gesticulations, his waving hands, he +suggested a demon rather than a human being. Now and again he put a +curved hand to his mouth. Doubtless he was shouting but the roar of the +fire and the howling of the mob smothered every sound. + +It was Rofflash--his true character revealed, nerve stricken, a coward +at heart. Yet he was in no immediate danger. The fire could not reach +him. The only thing he had to fear was the rising tide should it chance +to wash over the abutment and sweep him off his feet. + +But it is always the unexpected that happens. Some receptacle with +inflammable contents which the fire had overlooked--probably it was +stored in one of the upper rooms--exploded with terrific violence. Roof, +rafters, tiles, brickwork, shot into the air and fell in every +direction. Sally with many others was sent prostrate by the shock, but +was uninjured. When she was able to rise and look over the parapet no +one was on the abutment. Jeremy Rofflash had met his fate. + + +"The Beggar's Opera" continued on its triumphant way. Night after night +the theatre was packed. Night after night Polly was listened to with +increasing delight. She had never sung her plaintive ditties with such +pathos. No one suspected the reason. No one knew that she had given her +heart to the poor young man killed in a brawl--so the newspapers +described it--in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Polly's love for Lancelot Vane +was a secret sacred to herself. She gave her confidence to nobody--not +even to Gay. She had been happy in her love dreams, happier perhaps than +if they had become realities. Her roaming life had not brought romance +to her until she met Lancelot Vane. The sweetheartings of others had +always seemed sordid and commonplace. Had Vane been presumptuous she +would have had nothing to say to him, but she was drawn towards him +because he was drifting to his ruin and she yearned to save him. That +she should see him no more deadened her heart and numbed her brain. So +she made no effort to find out the why and wherefore of his death and +the story never reached her. + +Sally Salisbury could have told her, but Sally, to her credit, be it +said, did not seek to inflict a wound for the mere satisfaction of +witnessing the agony of her rival. Vane was dead and retribution had +swiftly overtaken his assassin. What was left? Nothing. Sally had also +found romance, and some tender womanly instinct--an instinct too often +blunted by her life and temptations--sealed her lips. She had avenged +the death of the only man she ever loved with anything like purity. Let +that suffice. + +The opera had an unprecedented run of sixty-two nights. Every one +marvelled. Such a thing had never happened before and when the next +season the run was continued its attractions were undimmed, save in one +particular--the original Polly Peachum was no longer to be seen or +heard. Gradually it became gossipped about that the Duke of Bolton's +suit had succeeded. The Polly over whom everybody, rich and poor, high +and low, for nearly five months had lost their heads and their hearts, +had quitted the stage for ever. Twenty-three years later the duke was +able to prove his devotion by making her his duchess. Even then she +rarely took part in fashionable functions. Her simple tastes and dislike +of display never deserted her. Yet she was not and is not forgotten, +though nearly two hundred years have passed away since she burst into +the full flush of fame. Her memory is preserved in every one of her +innumerable successors who have succeeded in reproducing in any degree +her charm and artlessness. This memory is not attached to Lavinia +Duchess of Bolton, but to "Pretty Polly Peachum." + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME FLIRT *** + +***** This file should be named 18547.txt or 18547.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/4/18547/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Martin Pettit and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18547.zip b/18547.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8392043 --- /dev/null +++ b/18547.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2788451 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #18547 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18547) |