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Mason"> +<meta name="Author" content="Andrew Lang"> + +<meta name="Publisher" content="Longmans, Green, and Co."> +<meta name="Date" content="1899"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} + + + +p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} +.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} +.stage {margin-left:10%} + + +p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} + +p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} +.text10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} +.text20 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} + + +.poem0 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 0%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem1 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 2em; + margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem2 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem3 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 30%; + margin-right: 30%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + + + + + +figcenter {margin:auto; text-align:center; margin-top:9pt;} + +.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0px;} +.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0px;} +.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0px;} +.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0px;} +.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0px;} +.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0px;} +.t6 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:6em; margin-right:0px;} +.t7 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:7em; margin-right:0px;} +.t8 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:8em; margin-right:0px;} +.t9 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:9em; margin-right:0px;} +.t10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10em; margin-right:0px;} +.t11 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:11em; margin-right:0px;} +.t12 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:12em; margin-right:0px;} +.t13 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:13em; margin-right:0px;} +.t14 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:14em; margin-right:0px;} +.t15 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:15em; margin-right:0px;} +.t16 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:16em; margin-right:0px;} + + +.quote {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} +.ctrquote {text-align: center; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} + +.dateline {text-align:right; font-size:90%; margin-right:10%; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} + +span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} +span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} + +hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} + +hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} + +hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} +hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} + +p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} +p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} + + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parson Kelly, by +A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley) Mason and Andrew Lang + +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: Parson Kelly + +Author: A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley) Mason + Andrew Lang + +Release Date: January 27, 2012 [EBook #38684] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARSON KELLY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> + +1. Page scan source:<br> +http://books.google.com/books?id=dNMjAAAAMAAJ</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/frontispiece.png" alt="But I am grieved I +have no vigil."><br> +"BUT I AM GRIEVED I HAVE NO VIRGIL." P. 160</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<table cellpadding="20" style="width:70%; margin-left:17%; border:4px solid black"> +<tr> +<td> +<br> +<br> +<h1>PARSON KELLY</h1> +<br> +<br> +</td> +<tr><td style="border-top:4px solid black; border-bottom:4px solid black"> +<br> +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>A. E. W. MASON</h2> + +<h5>AND</h5> + +<h2>ANDREW LANG</h2> +<br></td> +</tr><tr> +<td> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr><tr> +<td style="border-top:4px solid black"> +<br> +<h3>NEW YORK<br> +LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.<br> +<span class="sc2">LONDON AND BOMBAY</span><br> +1899</h3> +<br> +</tr></table> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5><i>Copyright, 1899</i>,</h5> +<h4><span class="sc">By Longmans, Green, And Co.</span></h4> +<hr style="width:5%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt"> +<h5><i>All rights reserved</i></h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4><span class="sc">First Edition, September, 1899<br> +Reprinted October, 1899</span></h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>University Press<br> +<span class="sc">John Wilson And Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.</span></h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3><span class="sc2">TO THE</span><br> +BARON TANNEGUY DE WOGAN</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>The Representative of a House illustrious for its Antiquity:</i><br> +<i>In Prosperity splendid: in Exile and Poverty gay</i><br> +<i>and constant: of Loyalty unshaken;</i></p> + +<h4>Is Dedicated</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>This Narrative, founded on the deeds of his Ancestor</i>,</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">The Chevalier Nicholas De Wogan.</span></h4> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:65%"> +<p class="continue"><b>A. E. W. M.</b><br> +<b>A. L.</b></p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The authors wish to say that the proceedings of Lady Oxford are +unhistorical. Swift mentions a rumour that there was such a lady, but +leaves her anonymous.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> +<colgroup><col style="width:10%; text-align:right; vertical-align:top"><col style="width:90%"></colgroup> +<tr> +<td><span class="sc2">Chapter</span></td> +<td> </td> +</tr><tr> +<td>I.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">The Parson expresses Irreproachable Sentiments at the +Mazarin Palace.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>II.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">Mr. Wogan refuses to Acknowledge an Undesirable +Acquaintance in St. James's Street.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>III.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">Mr. Wogan instructs the Ignorant Parson in the Ways of +Women.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>IV.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">Shows the Extreme Danger of knowing Latin.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>V.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">A Literary Discussion in which a Critic, not for the +first time, turns the tables upon an Author.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VI.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">Mr. Nicholas Wogan reminds the Parson of a Night at the +Mazarin Palace.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">Lady Mary Wortley Montagu has a word to say about +Smilinda.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VIII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">Mr. Kelly has an Adventure at a Masquerade Ball.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>IX.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">Wherein the Chivalrous Mr. Kelly behaves with Deplorable +Folly.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>X.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">What came of Mr. Kelly's Winnings from the South Sea.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XI.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">The Parson departs from Smilinda and learns a number of +Unpalatable Truths.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">The Parson meets Scrope for the Third Time, and what came +of the Meeting.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XIII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">Of the Rose and the Rose-Garden in Avignon.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XIV.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">Of the Great Confusion produced by a Ballad and a Drunken +Crow.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XV.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">At the Deanery of Westminster.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XVI.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">Mr. Wogan acts as Lightning Conductor at Lady Oxford's +Rout.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XVII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">Lady Oxford's 'Coup De Théâtre'.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XVIII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">Wherein a New Fly discourses on the innocence of the +Spider's Web.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XIX.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">Stroke and Counter-stroke.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XX.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">Mr. Scrope bathes by Moonlight and in his Peruke.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXI.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">In which Mr. Kelly surprises Smilinda.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">An Eclogue which demonstrates the Pastoral Simplicity of +Corydon and Strephon.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXIII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">How the Messengers captured the wrong Gentleman; and of +what Letters the Colonel burned.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXIV.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">Mr. Wogan wears Lady Oxford's Livery, but does not remain +in her Service.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXV.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">How the Miniature of Lady Oxford came by a Mischance.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXVI.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">Mr. Wogan Traduces his Friend, with the Happiest +Consequences.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXVII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">How, by keeping Parole, Mr. Kelly broke Prison.</a></p></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>XXVIII.</td> +<td><p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">Mr. Wogan again invades England, meets the elect Lady, +and bears witness to her Perfections.</a></p></td> +</tr></table> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>PARSON KELLY</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">THE PARSON EXPRESSES IRREPROACHABLE SENTIMENTS +AT THE MAZARIN PALACE</a></h3> + +<p class="center">"What mighty quarrels rise from trivial things!"</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">So wrote Mr. Alexander Pope, whom Nicholas Wogan remembers as a +bookish boy in the little Catholic colony of Windsor Forest. The line +might serve as a motto for the story which Mr. Wogan (now a one-armed +retired colonel of Dillon's Irish Brigade in French Service) is about +to tell. The beginnings of our whole mischancy business were trivial +in themselves, and in all appearance unrelated to the future. They +were nothing more important than the purchase of a couple of small +strong-boxes and the placing of Parson Kelly's patrimony in Mr. Law's +company of the West. Both of these events happened upon the same day.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was early in February of the year 1719, and the streets of Paris +were deep in snow. Wogan, then plotting for King James's cause, rode +into Paris from St. Omer at ten o'clock of the forenoon, and just +about the same hour Parson Kelly, plotting too in his way, drove +through the Orleans gate.</p> + +<p class="normal">A few hours later the two men met in the Marais, or rather Nicholas +Wogan saw the skirts of Kelly's coat vanishing into an ironmonger's +shop, and ran in after him. Kelly was standing by the counter with a +lady on either side of him, as was the dear man's wont; though their +neighbourhood on this occasion was the merest accident, for the Parson +knew neither of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure it's my little friend the lace merchant,' said Wogan, and +clapped his hand pretty hard on the small of his friend's back, whom +he had not seen for a twelvemonth and more. Kelly stumbled a trifle, +maybe, and no doubt he coughed and spluttered. One of the ladies +dropped her purse and shuddered into a corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Quelle bête sauvage!</i>' murmured the second with one indignant eye +upon Nicholas Wogan, and the other swimming with pity for Mr. Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madame,' said Wogan, picking up the purse and restoring it with his +most elegant bow, 'it was pure affection.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No doubt,' said Kelly, as he rubbed his shoulder; 'but, Nick, did you +never hear of the bear that smashed his master's skull in the +endeavour to stroke off a fly that had settled on his nose? That was +pure affection too.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned back to the counter, on which the shopman was setting out a +number of small strong-boxes, and began to examine them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, you must e'en blame yourself, George,' said Nick, 'for the mere +sight of you brings the smell of the peat to my nostrils and lends +vigour to my hand.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This he said with all sincerity, for the pair had been friends in +county Kildare long before Kelly went to Dublin University, and took +deacon's orders, and was kicked out of the pulpit for preaching +Jacobitism in his homilies. As boys they had raced bare-legged over +the heather, and spent many an afternoon in fighting over again that +siege of Rathcoffey Castle which an earlier Nicholas Wogan had held so +stoutly for King Charles. The recollection of those days always played +upon Wogan's foolish heartstrings with a touch soft as a woman's +fingers, and very likely it now set George Kelly's twanging to the +same tune; for at Wogan's words he turned himself about with a face +suddenly illumined.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here, Nick, lay your hand there,' said he and stretched out his hand. +'You will be long in Paris?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No more than a night. And you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Just the same time.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned again to the counter, and busied himself with his boxes in +something of a hurry, as though he would avoid further questioning. +Wogan blew a low whistle.</p> + +<p class="normal">Maybe we are on the same business, eh?' he asked. 'The King's +business?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Whisht, man,' whispered Kelly quickly, and he glanced about the shop. +'Have you no sense at all?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The shop was empty at the moment, and there was no reason that Wogan +could see for his immoderate secrecy. But the Parson was much like the +rest of the happy-go-lucky conspirators who were intriguing to +dislodge the Elector from the English throne--cautious by fits and +moods, and the more often when there was the less need. But let a +scheme get ripe for completion, and sure they imagined it completed +already, and at once there would be letters left about here, for all +the world to read, and a wink and a sly word there, so that it was +little short of a miracle when a plot was launched before it had been +discovered by those it was launched against. Not that you are to +attribute to Mr. Wogan any superior measure of reticence. On the +contrary, it is very probable that it was precisely Mr. Wogan's tongue +which George Kelly distrusted, and if so, small blame to him. At any +rate, he pursed up his lips and stiffened his back. Consequence turned +him into a ramrod, and with a voice pitched towards the shopman:</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am still in the muslin trade,' said he, meaning that he collected +money for the Cause. 'I shall cross to England to-morrow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed and will you now?' said Wogan, who was perhaps a little +contraried by his friend's reserve. 'Then I'll ask you to explain what +these pretty boxes have to do with the muslin trade?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'They are to carry my samples in,' replied Kelly readily enough; and +then, as if to put Wogan's questions aside, 'Are you for England, +too?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Wogan, imitating Mr. Kelly's importance; 'I am going to +visit my Aunt Anne at Cadiz; so make the most of that, my little +friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was no great dab at the cyphers and the jargon of the plots, but +he knew that the Duke of Ormond, being then in Spain, figured in the +correspondence as my Aunt Anne. It was now Kelly's turn to whistle, +and that he did, and then laughed besides.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I might have guessed,' said he, 'for there's a likely prospect of +broken heads at all events, and to that magnet you were never better +than a steel filing.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Whisht, man,' exclaimed Wogan, frowning and wagging his head +preposterously. 'Is it yourself that's the one person in the world to +practise mysteries? Broken heads, indeed!' and he shrugged his +shoulder as though he had a far greater business on hand. Kelly's +curiosity rose to the bait, and he put a question or two which Wogan +waived aside. The Parson indeed had hit the truth. Wogan had no +business whatsoever except the mere fighting, but since the Parson was +for practising so much dignified secrecy, Wogan would do no less.</p> + +<p class="normal">To carry the joke a step further, he turned to the counter, even as +Kelly had done, and examined the despatch-boxes. He would buy one, to +convince Kelly that he, too, was trusted with secret papers. The boxes +were as like to one another as peas, but Wogan discovered a great +dissimilitude of defects.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There's not one of them fit to keep a mouldy cheese in,' said he, +tapping and sounding them with his knuckles, 'let alone--' and then he +caught himself up with a glance at Kelly. 'However, this perhaps may +serve--but wait a little.' He felt in his pockets and by chance +discovered a piece of string. This string he drew out and carefully +measured the despatch-box, depth and width and length. Then he put the +tip of his thumb between his teeth and bit it in deep thought. 'Well, +and it must serve, since there's no better; but for heaven's sake, my +man, clap a stouter lock on it! I could smash this with my fist. A +good stout lock; and send it--wait a moment!' He glanced towards Kelly +and turned back to the shopman. 'I'll just write down where you are to +send it to.'</p> + +<p class="normal">To Kelly's more complete mystification he scribbled a name and an +address on a sheet of paper, and folded it up with an infinity of +precautions.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Send it there, key and all, by nine o'clock tomorrow morning.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The name was Mr. Kelly's, the address the inn at which Mr. Kelly was +in the habit of putting up. Wogan bought the box merely to gull Kelly +into the belief that he, also, was a Royal messenger. Then he paid for +the box, and forthwith forgot all about it over a bottle of wine. +Kelly, for his part, held his despatch-box in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, I have business,' said he as soon as the bottle was empty, 'and +it appears you have too. Shall we meet to-night? Mr. Law expects me at +the Mazarin Palace.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, then I'll make bold to intrude upon him,' said Nicholas, who, +though Mr. Law kept open house for those who favoured the White Rose, +was but a rare visitor to the Mazarin Palace, holding the financier in +so much awe that no amount of affability could extinguish it.</p> + +<p class="normal">However, that night he went, and so learned in greater particular the +secret of the Parson's journey. It was nine o'clock at night when +Wogan turned the corner of the Rue Vivienne and saw the windows of the +Mazarin Palace blazing out upon the snow. A little crowd shivered and +gaped beneath them, making, poor devils! a vicarious supper off the +noise of Mr. Law's entertainment. And it was a noisy party that Mr. +Law entertained. Before he was half-way down the street Wogan could +hear the peal of women's laughter and a snatch of a song, and after +that maybe a sound of breaking glass, as though a tumbler had been +edged off the table by an elbow. He was shown up the great staircase +to a room on the first floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Monsieur Nicholas de Wogan,' said the footman, throwing open the +door. Wogan stepped into the company of the pretty arch conspirators +who were then mismanaging the Chevalier's affairs. However, with their +mismanagement Wogan is not here concerned, for this is not a story of +Kings and Queens and high politics but of the private fortunes of +Parson Kelly. Olive Trant was playing backgammon in a corner with Mr. +Law. Madame de Mezières, who was seldom absent when politics were +towards, graced the table and conversed with Lady Cecilia Law. And +right in front of Mr. Wogan stood that madcap her sister, Fanny +Oglethorpe, with her sleeves tucked back to her elbows, looking +gloriously jolly and handsome. She was engaged in mincing chickens in +a china bowl which was stewing over a little lamp on the table, for, +said she, Mr. Law had aspersed the English cooks, and she was minded +to make him eat his word and her chicken that very night for supper. +She had Parson Kelly helping her upon the one side, and a young French +gentleman whom Wogan did not know upon the other; and the three of +them were stirring in the bowl with a clatter of their wooden spoons.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here's Mr. Wogan,' cried Fanny Oglethorpe, and as Wogan held out his +hand she clapped her hot spoon into it. 'M. de Bellegarde, you must +know Mr. Wogan. He has the broadest back of any man that ever I was +acquainted with. You must do more than know him. You must love him, as +I do, for the broadness of his back.'</p> + +<p class="normal">M. de Bellegarde looked not over-pleased with the civility of her +greeting, and bowed to Wogan with an affectation of ceremony. Mr. Law +came forward with an affable word. Olive Trant added another, and +Madame de Mezières asked eagerly what brought him to Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He is on his way to join the Duke of Ormond at Cadiz,' cried Kelly; +'and,' said this man deceived, 'he carries the most important +messages. Bow to him, ladies! Gentlemen, your hands to your hearts, +and your knees to the ground! It's no longer a soldier of fortune that +you see before you, but a diplomatist, an ambassador: His Excellency, +the Chevalier Wogan;' and with that he ducked and bowed, shaking his +head and gesticulating with his hands, as though he were some +dandified court chamberlain. All the Parson's diplomacy had been +plainly warmed out of him in his present company. Mr. Law began to +laugh, but Fanny Oglethorpe dropped her spoon and looked at Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Duke of Ormond?' said she, lowering her voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed? and you carry messages?' said Miss Olive Trant, upsetting the +backgammon board.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Of what kind?' exclaimed Madame de Mezières; and then, in an instant, +their pretty heads were clustered about the table, and their mouths +whispering questions, advice, and precautions, all in a breath. 'It's +at Bristol you are to land?' 'The Earl Marischal is for Scotland?' +'You carry 5,000 barrels, Mr. Wogan?' meaning thereby stands of arms. +And, 'You may speak with all confidence,' Miss Oglethorpe urged, with +a glance this way and that over her shoulders. 'There are none but +honest people here. M. de Bellegarde,' and she looked towards the +French spark, blushing very prettily, 'is my good friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan bowed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was not that I doubted M. de Bellegarde,' he replied. 'But 'faith, +ladies, I have learnt more of the prospects of the expedition from +your questions than ever I knew before. I was told for a certain thing +that heads would be broken, and, to be sure, I was content with the +information.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At that Mr. Law laughed. Kelly asked, 'What of the despatch-box, +then?' The ladies pouted their resentment; and Mr. Wogan, for the +first and last time in his life, wore the reputation of a diplomatist. +'A close man,' said M. de Bellegarde, pursing his lips in approval.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But sped on an unlikely venture,' added Mr. Law, getting back to his +backgammon. 'Oh, I know,' he continued, as the voices rose against +him, 'you have grumblings enough in England to fill a folio, and so +you think the whole country will hurry to the waterside to welcome +you, before you have set half your foot on shore. But, when all is +said, the country's prosperous. Your opportunity will come with its +misfortunes.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Madame de Mezières would hear nothing of such forebodings; and +Olive Trant, catching up a glass, swung it above her head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'May the Oak flourish!' she cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fanny Oglethorpe sprang from her seat. 'May the White Rose bloom!' she +answered, giving the counter-word. The pair clinked their glasses.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Aye, that's the spirit!' cried the Parson. 'Drink, Nick! God save the +King! Here's a bumper to him!'</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood with his face turned upwards, his blue eyes afire. 'Here's to +the King!' he repeated. 'Here's to the Cause! God send that nothing +ever come between the Cause and me.' He drained his glass as he spoke, +and tossed it over his shoulder. There was a tinkling sound, and a +flash of sparks, as it were, when the glass splintered against the +wall. George Kelly stood for a moment, arrested in his attitude, his +eyes staring into vacancy, as though some strange news had come of a +sudden knocking at his heart. Then he hitched his shoulders. 'Bah!' he +cried, and began to sing in a boisterous voice some such ditty as</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0"> +Of all the days that's in the year,<br> +The tenth of June's to me most dear,<br> +When our White Roses do appear</p> +<p class="t2">To welcome Jamie the Rover.</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">Or it may have been</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0"> +Let our great James come over,<br> +And baffle Prince Hanover,<br> +With hearts and hands in loyal bands,</p> +<p class="t2">We'll welcome him at Dover.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">It was not the general practice to allow the Parson to sing without +protest; for he squeezed less music out of him than any other Irishman +could evoke from a deal board with his bare knuckles. When he sang, +and may Heaven forgive the application of the word in this +conjunction, there was ever a sort of mortal duello between his voice +and the tune--very distressing to an audience. But now he sang his +song from beginning to end, and no one interrupted him, or so much as +clapped a hand over an ear; and this not out of politeness. But his +words so rang with a startling fervour; and he stood, with his head +thrown back, rigid in the stress of passion. His voice quavered down +to silence, but his eyes still kept their fires, his attitude its +fixity. Once or twice he muttered a word beneath his breath, and then +a hoarse cry came leaping from his mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">'May nothing ever come between the Cause and me, except it be +death--except it be death!'</p> + +<p class="normal">A momentary silence waited upon the abrupt cessation of his voice: +Wogan even held his breath; Miss Oglethorpe did not stir; and during +that silence, there came a gentle rapping on the door. Kelly looked +towards it with a start, as though there was his answer; but the +knocking was repeated before anyone moved; it seemed as if suspense +had hung its chains upon every limb. It was Mr. Wogan who opened the +door, and in stalked Destiny in the shape of a lackey. He carried a +note, and handed it to George Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The messenger has but this instant brought it,' he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly broke the seal, and unfolded the paper.</p> + +<p class="normal">'From General Dillon,' he said; and, reading the note through, +'Ladies, will you pardon me? Mr. Law, I have your permission? I have +but this one night in Paris, and General Dillon has news of importance +which bears upon my journey.'</p> + +<p class="normal">With that he took his hat, and got him from the room. Fanny Oglethorpe +sprang up from her chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, my chicken will be ruined,' she cried. 'Come, M. de +Bellegarde,' and the pair fell again to stirring in the bowl, and with +such indiscriminate vigour that more than once their fingers got +entangled. This Mr. Wogan observed, and was sufficiently indiscreet to +utter a sly proposal that he should make a third at the stirring.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is no need for a third,' said Miss Oglethorpe, with severity. +'But, on the other hand, I want a couple of pats of butter, and a +flagon of water; and I shall be greatly obliged if Mr. Wogan will +procure me them.' And what with that and other requests which chanced +to come into her head, she kept him busy until the famous supper was +prepared.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the midst of that supper back came Mr. Kelly, and plumped himself +down in his chair, very full of his intelligence. A glass or two of +Mr. Law's burgundy served to warm out of his blood all the reserve +that was left over from the morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We are all friends here,' said he, turning to Miss Oglethorpe. +'Moreover, I need the advantage of your advice and knowledge. General +Dillon believes that my Lord Oxford maybe persuaded to undertake the +muslin trade in Britain.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lord Oxford,' exclaimed Miss Oglethorpe, with a start, for Oxford had +lain quiet since he nearly lost his head five years agone. 'He is to +collect the money from our supporters?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is the opinion that he will, if properly approached.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Law, at the top of the table, shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a very forward and definite step for so prudential a +politician,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But a politician laid on a shelf, and pining there,' replied George. +'There's the reason for it. He has a hope of power,--<i>Qui a bu, +boira!</i> The hope grows real if we succeed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would trust him no further than a Norfolk attorney,' returned Mr. +Law; 'and that's not an inch from the end of my nose. He will swear +through a two-inch board to help you, and then turn cat in pan if a +Whig but smile at him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Besides,' added Miss Oglethorpe, and she rested, her chin +thoughtfully upon her hands. As she spoke, all the eyes in that +company were turned on her. 'Besides,' and then she came to a stop, +and flushed a little. 'Lord Oxford,' she continued, 'was my good +friend when I was in England.' Then she stopped again. Finally she +looked straight into M. de Bellegarde's eyes, and with an admirable +bravery: 'Some, without reason, have indeed slandered me with stories +that he was more than my friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'None, Madame, who know you, I'll warrant,' said M. de Bellegarde, and +gravely lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, that's a very pretty answer,' said she in some confusion. 'So +Mr. Kelly may know,' she went on, 'that I speak with some authority +concerning my Lord Oxford. It is not he whom I distrust. But he has +lately married a young wife.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' said Mr. Law, and 'Oh!' cried Mr. Wogan, with a shrug of his +shoulders. 'If a lady is to dabble her tender fingers in the pie--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what of it, Mr. Wogan?' Madame de Mezières took him up coldly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, Mr. Wogan, what of it?' repeated Olive Trant hotly, 'provided +the lady be loyal.' In an instant Mr. Wogan had the whole nest +swarming about his ears, with the exception of Fanny Oglethorpe. It +was intimated to him that he had a fine preposterous conceit of his +sex, and would he be pleased to justify it?</p> + +<p class="normal">Madame de Mezières hinted that the ability to swing a shillelagh and +bring it down deftly on an offending sconce did not comprise the whole +virtues of mankind. And if it came to the test of dealing blows, why +there was Joan of Arc, and what had Mr. Wogan to say to her? Mr. Wogan +turned tail, as he always did when women were in the van of the +attack.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ladies,' he said, 'I do not think Joan of Arc so singular after all, +since I see four here who I believe from my soul could emulate her +noblest achievements.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Wogan's gallantry went for very little. The cowardice of it +was apparent for all that he bowed and laid his hand on his heart, and +performed such antics as he thought likely to tickle women into good +humour.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Besides,' put in Lady Cecilia, with a soothing gentleness, 'Mr. Wogan +should know that the cause he serves owes, as it is, much to the good +offices of women.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had his own opinions upon that point, but he wiped his +forehead and had the discretion to hold his tongue. Meanwhile Fanny +Oglethorpe, who had sat with frowning brows in silence, diverted the +onslaught.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But it is just the loyalty of Lady Oxford which is in question. Lady +Oxford is a Whig, of a Whig family. She is even related to Mr. +Walpole, the Minister. I think Mr. Kelly will have to tread very +warily at Lord Oxford's house of Brampton Bryan.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'For my part,' rejoined Mr. Law, 'I think the Chevalier de St. George +would do better to follow the example of Mr. Kelly and my friends +here.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what is that?' asked Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, scrape up all the money he can lay hands on and place it in my +company of the West.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was not well pleased to hear of his friend's speculation, +and, when they left the house together, took occasion to remonstrate +with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'How much have you placed?' he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'All that I could,' replied George. 'It is little enough--the remnant +of my patrimony. Mr. Law lent me a trifle in addition to make up a +round sum. It is a very kindly man, and well disposed to me. I have no +fears, for all the money in France dances to the tune he fiddles.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To his tune, to be sure,' grumbled Wogan; 'but are you equally +certain his tune is yours? Oh, I know. He is a monstrous clever man, +not a doubt of it. The computation of figures--it is the devil's own +gift, and to my nose it smells damnably of sulphur.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan has good occasion to reflect how Providence fleers at one's +apprehensions when he remembers the sleepless hours during which he +tossed upon his bed that night, seeing all the Parson's scanty savings +drowned beyond redemption in the China seas. For no better chance +could have befallen Kelly than that Wogan's forebodings should have +come true. But the venture succeeded. Fanny Oglethorpe made a fortune +and married M. de Bellegarde. Olive Trant, the richer by 100,000 +pistoles, became Princess of Auvergne. Do they ever remember that +night at the Hotel de Mazarin, and how Parson Kelly cried out almost +in an agony as though, in the heat of passion, he surmised the future, +'May nothing come between the Cause and me'? Well, for one thing the +money came. It placed in his hands a golden key wherewith to unlock +the gates of disaster.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">MR. WOGAN REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE AN +UNDESIRABLE ACQUAINTANCE IN +ST. JAMES'S STREET</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan left Paris early the next morning without a thought for the +despatch-box that he had sent to Kelly, and, coming to Cadiz, sailed +with the Spaniards out of that harbour on the tenth of March, and into +the great storm which dispersed the fleet off Cape Finisterre. In +company with the Earl Marischal and the Marquis of Tullibardine, he +was aboard one of those two ships which alone touched the coast of +Scotland. Consequently, he figured with better men, as Field-Marshal +Keith, and his brother the Ambassador, and my Lord George Murray, in +that little skirmish at Glenshiel, and very thankful he was when the +night shut black upon the valleys and put its limit to the attack of +General Wightman's soldiers from Inverness. A council of war was held +in the dark upon a hill-side, whence the fires of General Wightman's +camp could be seen twinkling ruddily below, but Wogan heard little of +what was disputed, for he went to sleep with his back against a +boulder and dreamed of his ancestors. He was waked up about the middle +of the night by the Earl Marischal, who informed him that the +Spaniards had determined to surrender at discretion, and that the +handful of Highlanders were already dispersing to their homes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'As for ourselves, we shall make for the Western Islands and wait +there for a ship to take us off.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then I'll wish you luck and a ship,' said Wogan. He stood up and +shook the dew off his cloak. 'I have friends in London, and I'll trust +my lucky star to get me there.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your star's in eclipse,' said the Earl. 'You will never reach London +except it be with your legs tied under a horse's belly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, I'm thinking you have not such a clear path after all to the +Western Islands! Did you never hear of my forefather, Thomas Wogan, +that rode with twenty-eight Cavaliers through the heart of Cromwell's +England, and came safe into the Highlands? Sure what that great man +could do with twenty-eight companions to make him conspicuous, his +degenerate son can do alone.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan began his journey by walking over the hill, near to the top +of which his friends had been driven off the road to Inverness by the +English fire, which was very well nourished. He made his way to Loch +Duich, as they call it, and so by boat round Ardnamurchan, to a hamlet +they call Oban. There he changed his dress for the Campbell black and +green, and, joining company with a drove of Rob Roy's cattle from the +Lennox, travelled to Glasgow. His Irish brogue no doubt sounded a +trifle strange in a Highland drover, but he was in a country where the +people were friendly. At Glasgow he changed his dress again for a +snuff-coloured bourgeois suit, and so rode into England by the old +Carlisle and Preston route, which he had known very well in the year +1715.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was at this time little more than a lad, though full-grown +enough to make a man and a good-sized boy into the bargain, and the +exploit of the Cavalier Thomas Wogan, as it had prompted his design, +so it exhilarated him in the execution. He went lightly on his way, +weaving all manner of chivalric tales about his ancestor, to the great +increase of his own vanity, bethinking him when he stopped for an hour +at a wayside inn that here, too, perhaps Thomas Wogan had reined in +his horse, and maybe had taken a draught from that very pint-pot which +Nicholas now held to his lips. Thus the late burst up the hill-side +above the Shiel was quickly robbed of its sting, and by the time that +he had reached London he was so come to a pitch of confidence in the +high destinies of the Wogan family that, after leaving his horse in +the charge of Mr. Gunning, of Mussell Hill, whom he knew of old as a +staunch friend of George Kelly's, and borrowing from him a more +suitable raiment than his stained travelling dress, he must needs walk +down St. James's Street with no more disguise than the tilting of his +hat over his nose, and the burying of his chin in his cravat.</p> + +<p class="normal">Soon Mr. Wogan's confidence and, with his confidence, his legs were +brought to a sudden check. For when he was come half-way down the hill +he saw the figure of one Captain Montague in the uniform of the Guards +turn the corner out of Ryder Street and walk towards him. Wogan had +met the officer before on an occasion of which he did not wish at this +particular moment to be reminded. He wheeled about, took a step or +two, and so came again to a halt. Was it known, he asked himself, that +he had sailed from Cadiz and landed in Scotland? If so, and it was a +most likely conjecture, then for Wogan to be straggling about St. +James's Street was egregious impertinence, and the sooner he got under +shelter the better for his neck. Now Wogan's destination was the +lodging of George Kelly, not five hundred yards away, in Bury Street. +But to reach that lodging it would be necessary for him to turn about +again and face the Captain. Would the Captain know him again? Wogan +debated the question, and finding no answer, asked himself another. +What would Thomas Wogan have done under the like contingency? The +answer to that was evident enough. Wogan turned about on the instant, +cocked his hat on the back of his head, took his chin out of his +cravat, twirled his cane, whistled a tune and sauntered past the +Captain, looking him over as if he were so much dirt. The Captain +stopped: Wogan felt his heart jump into his throat, whistled a bit +louder, and twirled his cane a trifle ferociously. Over his shoulder +he saw the Captain draw his brows together and rub a check with the +palm of his hand like a man perplexed. The Captain took a step towards +Wogan, and stopped again. Wogan sauntered on, expecting every moment +to hear his name called, and a clattering run, and then to feel a +heavy hand close upon his shoulder. But no voice spoke, no steps +clattered on the pavement. Wogan reached the corner and spied up St. +James's Street as he turned. The Captain was still standing in the +attitude of perplexity; only, instead of smoothing his cheek, he had +tilted his peruke aside and was scratching his head to ease the labour +of his recollections. At the sight of him the ancestor and his +twenty-eight Cavaliers rode clean out of Mr. Wogan's mind. 'Sure, +Thomas wouldn't have done it, but Nicholas will,' said he, and kicking +up his heels he ran. He ran along Ryder Street, turned into Bury +Street, raced a hundred yards or so up the cobbles, and thundered on +the door of Kelly's lodging. Here and there a head was poked from a +window, and Mr. Wogan cursed his own noisiness. It seemed an age +before the door was opened. Fortunately it was Mrs. Barnes, Kelly's +landlady, in person, and not her serving-woman, who stood in the +entrance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is the Parson in London?' says Wogan. 'Say that he is, Mrs. Barnes, +and say it quick.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, it's Mr. Wogan!' cries she.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Whisht, my dear woman!' answered Wogan, pushing through the doorway. +'It's Mr. Hilton. There's no Wogan anywhere in England. Remember that, +if you please.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Barnes slammed the door in a hurry.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then you are in trouble again,' said she, throwing up her hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, there's nothing unusual in that,' said he. 'Sure man is born to +it, and who am I that I should escape the inheritance?' and he opened +the door of Mr. Kelly's sitting-room. He saw the figure of a man +bending over the table. As the door was thrown open, the figure +straightened itself hurriedly. There was a sound of an iron lid +clanging down upon a box, and the sharp snap of a lock. George Kelly +turned and stood between the table and the door, in a posture of +defence. Then--</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick!' he cried, and grasped his friend's hand. The next moment he +let it go. 'What brings you here?' he exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My ancestor,' said Wogan, dropping into a chair. ''Twas his spirit +guided me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then take my word for it,' cried George, 'if there's a Bedlam beyond +the grave your ancestor inhabits it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan made no reply in words at first. But he rose stiffly from his +chair, bowed to Kelly with profuse ceremony, took his hat, and with +his hat a step towards the door. Kelly, on the other hand, shut the +door, locked it, put the key in his pocket and leaned his back against +the panels. Wogan affected to see nothing of these actions, but spoke +in a tone of dignity like a man taking his leave.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Such insults as you are pleased to confer on me,' said he, 'no doubt +I deserve, and I take them in all Christian meekness. But when my +ancestor Thomas Wogan, God rest his soul for ever and ever, rode with +twenty-eight Cavaliers from Dover to Scotland through the thick of his +bloodthirsty foes to carry the succour of his presence to the friends +of his blessed Majesty of sacred memory King Charles the Second, it +was not, I'd have you know, Mr. Kelly, in order that his name should +be bespattered after he was dead by a snuffling long-legged +surreptitious gawk of a parson who was kicked out of his Dublin pulpit +with every circumstance of ignominy because his intellect didn't +enable him to compose a homily.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At this point Wogan drew a long breath, which he sorely needed. It was +not at all truth that he had spoken, as he knew--none better. The +Parson was indeed stripped of his gown because he preached a very fine +homily on the text of 'Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's,' +wherein he mingled many timely and ingenious allusions to the +Chevalier. Nor was there any particular force in that epithet +'surreptitious,' beyond that it had an abusive twang. Yet it was just +that word at which Mr. Kelly took offence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Surreptitious,' said he, 'and if you please what is the meaning of +that?'</p> + +<p class="normal">And then surveying Wogan, he began of a sudden to smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ta-ta-ta,' he said with a grimace.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a pretty though an interjectional wit,' replied Wogan in a high +disdain, falling upon long words, as was his fashion on the rare +occasions when he cloaked himself with dignity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith,' continued George, with the smile broadening over his face, +'but it is indeed the very picture of Christian meekness,' and then, +breaking into a laugh, 'Will you sit down, you noisy firebrand. As for +Thomas Wogan--be damned to him and to all his twenty-eight Cavaliers +into the bargain!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan will never deny but what the man's laugh was irresistible, +for the Parson's features wore in repose something of clerkly look. +They were cast in a mould of Episcopal gravity; but when he laughed +his blue eyes would lighten at you like the sun from a bank of clouds, +and the whole face of him wrinkled and creased into smiles, and his +mouth shook a great rumbling laugh out of his throat, and then of a +sudden you had come into the company of a jolly man. Wogan put his hat +on the table and struggled to preserve his countenance from any +expression of friendliness.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is the common talk at the Cocoa Tree that you sailed from Cadiz. +It is thought that you were one of the remnant at Glenshiel. Oh, the +rumour of your whereabouts has marched before you, and that you might +have guessed. But see what it is to know no Virgil, and,' shaking a +minatory finger,</p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="t0" style="font-size:90%"> +'Fama, malum quo non aliud velocius ullum.'</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan bowed before Latin like a sapling before the wind. He seated +himself as he was bid.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And you must needs come parading your monstrous person through the +thick of London, like any fashionable gentleman,' continued George. +'What am I to do with you? Why couldn't you lie quiet in a village and +send me news of you? Did you meet any of your acquaintance by chance +when you came visiting your friend Mr. Kelly? Perhaps you passed the +time of day with Mr. Walpole--' and as he spoke the name he stopped +abruptly. He walked once or twice across the room, shifting his peruke +from one side of his head to the other in the fluster of his thoughts. +Then he paused before Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, what am I to do with you?' he cried. 'Tell me that, if you +please.' But the moment Wogan began,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, George, it's not you that I will be troubling for my +security'--Kelly cut in again:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, if you have nothing better to say than that, you say nothing at +all. It is dribbling baby's talk,' and then he repeated a question +earnestly. 'Did you see anyone you knew, or rather did anyone that +knows you see you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why,' replied Wogan meekly, 'I cannot quite tell whether he knows me +or not, but to be sure I ran into the arms of Captain Montague not +half a dozen yards from the corner of Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Montague!' exclaimed Kelly. Wogan nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The man who fought against you at Preston siege?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The same.'</p> + +<p class="normal">''Tis a pity you were at so much pains to save his life in that +scuffle.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Haven't I been thinking that myself?' asked Wogan. 'If only I had +left him lying outside the barricades, where he would have been surely +killed by the cross-fire, instead of running out and dragging him in! +But it is ever the way. Once do a thoroughly good-natured action and +you will find it's the thorn in your side that will turn and sting +you. But I am not sure that he knew me,' and he related how the +Captain had stopped with an air of perplexed recollection, and had +then gone on his way. Kelly listened to the account with a certain +relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is likely that he would not remember you. For one thing, he was +wounded when you carried him in, and perhaps gave little heed to the +features of his preserver. Moreover, you have changed, Nick, in these +years. You were a stripling then, a boy of fifteen, and,' here he +smiled and laid a hand on Wogan's shoulder, 'you have grown into a +baby in four years.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he took another turn across the room. 'Well, and why not?' he +said to himself, and finally brought his fist with a bang upon the +table. 'I'll hazard it,' said he. 'I am not sure but what it is the +safest way,' and, drawing a chair close to Wogan, he sat himself down.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was the mention of Mr. Walpole set me on the plan,' he said. 'You +heard in Paris that Lady Oxford is a kinsman of his. Well, I go down +to Lord Oxford's in two days. It is a remote village in the north of +Herefordshire. You shall come with me as my secretary. 'Faith, but I +shall figure in my lord's eyes as a person of the greatest +importance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan resisted the proposal as being of some risk to his friend, +but Kelly would hear of no argument. The plan grew on him, the more he +thought of it. 'You can lie snug here for the two days. Mrs. Barnes is +to be trusted, devil a doubt. You can travel down with me in safety. I +am plain Mr. Johnson here, engaged in smuggling laces from the +Continent into England. And once out of London there will be little +difficulty in shipping you out of the country until the affair's blown +over.'</p> + +<p class="normal">So it was arranged, and Kelly, looking at his watch, says--</p> + +<p class="normal">'By my soul, I am late. I should have been with my Lord of Rochester +half-an-hour since. The good Bishop will be swearing like a dragoon.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He clapped his hat on his head, took up his cane, and marched to the +door. His hand was on the knob, when he turned.</p> + +<p class="normal">'By the way, Nick, I have something which belongs to you. 'Twas sent +to my lodging in Paris by mistake. I brought it over, since I was sure +to set eyes on you shortly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' said Nick. 'Then you expected me, for all your scolding and +bullying.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To speak the honest truth, Nick,' said Kelly, with a laugh, 'I have +been expecting you all the last week.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He went into his bedroom, and brought out the strong-box which Wogan +had purchased in Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure there was no mistake,' said Wogan. 'I sent it to you as a reward +for your discretion.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, you did. Well, you wasted your money, for I have no need for it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nor I,' replied Wogan. 'But it has a very good lock, and will serve +to hold your love-letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly laughed carelessly at the careless words, and laid the box aside +upon his scrutore. Many a time in the months that followed Wogan saw +it there, and the sight of it would waken him to a laugh, for he did +not know that a man's liberty, his honour, his love, came shortly to +be locked within its narrow space.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">MR. WOGAN INSTRUCTS THE IGNORANT PARSON IN +THE WAYS OF WOMEN</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan then remained for two days closeted in his friend's +lodgings, and was hard put to it to pass the time, since the Parson, +who acted as secretary and right-hand man to Bishop Atterbury, was +ever dancing attendance upon his lordship at Bromley or the Deanery of +Westminster. Wogan smoked a deal of tobacco, and, knitting his brows, +made a strenuous endeavour to peruse one of George Kelly's books--a +translation of Tully's <i>Letters</i>. He did, indeed, read a complete +page, and then being seized with a sudden vertigo, such as from his +extreme youth had prevented him from a course of study, was forced to +discontinue his labours. At this juncture Mrs. Barnes comforted him +with a greasy pack of cards, and for the rest of that day he played +games of chance for extraordinary stakes, one hand against t'other, +winning and losing millions of pounds sterling in the space of a +single hour. By bedtime he was sunk in a plethora of wealth and an +extremity of destitution at one and the same time; and so, since he +saw no way of setting the balance right, he bethought him of another +plan. On the morrow he would write out a full history of his +ancestors, as a memorial of their valour and a shame to the men of +this age.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson, when he was informed of the notable design, quoted a scrap +of Latin to the effect that it would be something more than a brazen +proceeding. Wogan, however, was not to be dissuaded by any tag of +rhyme, and getting up before daylight, since he had but this one day +for the enterprise, was at once very busy with all of Kelly's +spluttering pens. He began with the founder of the family, the great +Chevalier Ugus, who lived in the time of my little Octavius Cæsar, and +was commissioned by that unparalleled monarch to build the town of +Florence. 'Ugus,' wrote Mr. Wogan in big round painful letters with a +flourish to each, and, coming to a stop, woke up George Kelly to ask +him in what year of Our Lord Octavius Cæsar was born into this weary +world. 'In no year of Our Lord,' grumbled George, a little churlishly +to Wogan's thinking, who went back to his desk, and taking up a new +pen again wrote 'Ugus.' Thereupon he fell into a great profundity of +thought; so many philosophic reflections crowded into his head while +he nibbled his pen, as he felt sure must visibly raise him in the +estimation of his friends. So, taking his candle in one hand and his +pen in the other, he came a second time to Kelly's bedside and sat him +down heavily upon his legs, the better to ensure his awakening. It is +to be admitted that this time the Parson sat up in his bed, and swore +with all the volubility of a dragoon or even of my Lord Bishop of +Rochester. But Wogan smiled amiably, knowing when he communicated his +thoughts how soon those oaths would turn to cries of admiration.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a very curious thing,' said Wogan, shifting himself a little so +that Kelly's shins should not press so sharply, 'how the mere inking +of one's fingers produces speculation. Just as great valorous deeds +are the consequence of swords,' here he paused to snuff the candle +with his fingers, 'so great philosophic thoughts are the consequence +of pens. Put a sword in a man's hand! What does he want to do but cut +his neighbour right open from the chine to the ribs? Put a pen between +his fingers, on the other hand, and what does he want to do but go +away by himself and write down great thoughts?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then, in Heaven's name, why don't you do it?' cried George.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Because, my friend,' replied Wogan, 'out of the great love I bear for +you, I shall always, always communicate my thoughts first of all to +you.' Here the Parson groaned like a man giving up the ghost, and +Wogan continued:</p> + +<p class="normal">'For instance, you have doubtless heard of my illustrious forbear the +Chevalier Ugus.' At this Kelly tried to turn on his side; but he could +not do so, since his legs were pinned beneath Wogan's weight. 'The +Chevalier Ugus,' repeated Wogan, 'who built and beautified the city of +Florence to the glory of God in the reign of the Emperor Octavius. How +many of the English have loitered in the colonnades, and feasted their +eyes upon the cathedral, and sauntered on the bridges of the Arno? How +many of them, I say, have drawn profitable thoughts and pleasurable +sensations from the edifices of my great ancestor? And yet not one of +them--if poor Nicholas Wogan, his degenerate son, were to poke his +nose outside of Mrs. Barnes's front door--not one of them but would +truss him hands and heels and hang him up to derision upon a nasty +gibbet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">So far Wogan had flowed on when a sigh from Kelly's lips brought him +to a pause. He leaned forward and held the candle so that the light +fell upon Kelly's face. Kelly was sound asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' said Wogan in a soft voice of pity, on the chance that +Kelly might be counterfeiting slumber, 'my little friend's jealous of +my reflective powers,' and going back to his chair wrote 'Ugus' a +third time with a third pen; and then, in order to think the more +clearly, laid his hand upon the table and closed his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Mrs. Barnes's hand upon his shoulder, some three hours +afterwards, which roused him from his so deep reflections, and to a +man in Wogan's course of life the shoulder is a most sensitive member. +She took the paper, whereon the great name was thrice inscribed, very +daintily between her forefinger and thumb, as though she touched +pitch; folded it once, twice, thrice, and set it on the mantelshelf. +There Mr. Kelly, coming into the room for breakfast, discovered it, +hummed a little to himself like a man well pleased, and turned over +the leaf to see what was written t'other side.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is all,' said Wogan, indifferently.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And it is a very good night's work,' replied Kelly, with the politest +gravity, 'not a letter--and there are precisely twelve of them in +all--but is writ with scrupulous correctness. Such flourishes, too, +are seldom seen. I cannot call to mind that ever I saw a <i>g</i> so +pictorially displayed. Ugus--Ugus--Ugus--' and he held the paper out +at arm's length.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I went no further with my work,' explained Wogan, 'because I +reflected--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What, again?' asked the Parson in a voice of condolence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That the mere enunciation of the name Ugus gives an epitome of the +Wogan family.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed, it gives a history in full,' said the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It comprises--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, it conveys--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'All that need be known of the Wogan family.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'All that need be known, indeed, and perhaps more,' added George with +the air of a man turning a compliment Mr. Wogan was sensibly +flattered, and took his friend's words as an apology for that +disrespect which he had shown towards Thomas Wogan two days before, +and the pair seated themselves to breakfast in the best of good +humour.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We start at nine of the evening,' said George. 'I have commanded a +sober suit of grey cloth for you, Nick, since you cannot squeeze into +my coats, and it should be here by now. Meanwhile, I leave you to Mrs. +Barnes's attentions.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Of these attentions Mrs. Barnes was by no means sparing. For the buxom +widow of the bookseller, who, to her credit be it said, had her full +share of good looks, joined to an admirable warmth of heart a less +adorable curiosity. With the best intentions in the world for her +lodgers' security, she was always prying into their secrets. Nor did +she always hold her tongue outside her own doors, as Mr. Kelly had +bitter reason afterwards to know. In a word, she had all the +inquisitiveness of her class, and sufficient wiles to make that +inquisitiveness difficult to parry. Not that Nicholas Wogan was at all +troubled upon this score, for if there was one quality upon which the +good man prided himself, it was his comprehension of the sex. 'Woman,' +he would say with a sententious pursing of the lips and a nod of the +head; and again 'woman,' and so drop into silence; as who should say, +'Here's a nut I could show you the kernel of were I so disposed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This morning, however, Mrs. Barnes made no demand upon Wogan's +cunning. For she took the paper with the thrice iterated Ugus which +the Parson had replaced upon the mantelshelf, and, with the same +gingerly precautions as she had used in touching it before, dropped it +into the fire.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And why that?' asked Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Barnes flung out at him in reply.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no patience with you,' she cried. 'What's Ugus, Mr. Wogan? +Answer me that,' and she struck her arms akimbo. 'What's Ugus but one +of your cypher words, and you must needs stick it up on your +mantelshelf for all the world to see?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It's no cypher word at all,' replied Wogan with a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is it then?' said she.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My dear woman, the merest mare's nest,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, you may "dear woman" me,' cried she, and sat herself down in a +chair, 'and you may laugh at a woman's fears; but, good lack, it was a +bad day when Mr. Kelly first found a lodging here. What with his +plottings here and his plottings there, it will be a fortunate thing +if he doesn't plot us all into our graves.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Whisht,' interrupted Wogan. 'There are no plots at all, any more than +there's sense in your talk.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But the woman's eloquence was not so easily stemmed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then if there are no plots, why is Mr. Kelly "Mr. Johnson," why is +Mr. Wogan "Mr. Hilton"; and why, oh why, am I in danger of my life and +liberty, and in peril of my immortal soul?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure you are bubbled with your fears, answered Wogan. 'It is +sufficiently well known that since Mr. George Kelly ceased to minister +to souls he has adopted the more lucrative profession of a lace +merchant. There's some secrecy no doubt in his comings and goings, but +that is because he is most honourably engaged in defrauding the +revenue.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A pretty lace merchant, upon my soul,' said she, and she began to +rock her body to and fro. The sight alarmed Nicholas Wogan, since he +knew the movement to be a premonition of tears. 'A lace merchant who +writes letters in Latin, and rides in the Bishop of Rochester's coach, +and goes a-visiting my Lord Oxford in the country. Thirteen shillings +have I paid for letters in one day. Laces, forsooth! It is hempen +ropes the poor gentleman travels in, and never was a man so eager to +fit them to his own neck.' And, at the affecting prospect which her +words called up, the good woman lifted her apron to her eyes and +forthwith dissolved into tears. Sobs tore her ample bosom, her soft +frame quivered like a jelly. Never did Mr. Wogan find his intimate +knowledge of the sex of more inestimable value. He crossed the room; +he took one plump hand into his left palm and gently cherished it with +his right. The tears diminished to a whimpering. He cooed a compliment +into Mrs. Barnes's ear, 'A little white dove of a hand in a brown +nest, my dear woman,' said he, and affectionately tweaked her ear. +Even the whimpering ceased, but ceased under protest! For Mrs. Barnes +began to speak again. Wogan, however, kissed the tearful eyes and +sealed them in content.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Hoity-toity, here's a set out,' he said, 'because my Lord Oxford +wants a pair of Venice ruffles to hide his gouty fingers, or a new +mantilla for his new spouse,' and so, softly chiding her, he pushed +her out of the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">At nine o'clock to the minute the chaise drove up to the door. Mr. +Kelly took a stroll along the street to see the coast was clear; Mrs. +Barnes was in two minds whether to weep at losing her lodgers, or to +smile at their prospects of security, and compromised between her +emotions by indulging them alternately; and finally the two friends in +burgess dress entered the chaise and drove off. Mr. Wogan thrust his +head half out of the window, the better to take his fill of the cool +night air, but drew it back something of the suddenest at the corner +where Ryder Street debouches into St. James's.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure the man's a spy,' said he, flinging himself back. Parson Kelly +leaned cautiously forward, and under an oil-lamp above the porch of a +door he saw Captain Montague. The Captain was standing in an +indecisive attitude, tapping with his stick upon the pavement and +looking up and down the street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I doubt it,' returned Kelly. 'I have ever heard he was the most +scrupulous gentleman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he's a Whig. A Whig and a gentleman! But it's a contradiction in +terms. Whigging is a nasty insupportable trade, and infects a man like +a poison. A Whig is a sort of third sex by itself that combines all +the failings of the other two.'</p> + +<p class="normal">However, this time it was evident that Captain Montague had taken no +note of Nicholas Wogan. He could not but reflect how it was at this +very spot that he had come upon the captain before, and mighty glad he +was when the lights of Knightsbridge had sunk behind them, and they +were driving betwixt the hedgerows. Then at one spring he jumped to +the top of his spirits.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, what a night!' cries he. 'Sure I was never designed to live +in a house at all, but to be entirely happy under the blue roof-tree +of the sky. Put me out on a good road at night and the whole universe +converses with me on the most familiar terms. Perhaps it's a bush that +throws out a tendril and says, "Smell that, you devil, and good luck +to you." Or, maybe it's the stars that wink at me and say, "Here's a +world for you, Nick, my little friend. Only wait a moment, and we'll +show you a bit of a moon that'll make a poet of you." Then up comes +the moon, perhaps, in a crescent like a wisp of fire, and, says she, +"It's all very well here, Nicholas, but take my word for it, I can +show you as good on the sea and better. For you'll have all this, and +the hiss of the water under your lee besides, and the little bubbles +dancing on the top." But what troubles you, George?'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Kelly made little or no reply, being sunk in the consideration of +some difficulty. For two days he remained closeted with his trouble, +and it was not until they had got to Worcester that he discovered it. +They changed horses at the 'Dog and Turk' and drove through the town +under the Abbey clock.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is five minutes to twelve,' said Wogan, looking at the clock.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' said Kelly with a sigh, 'the face is very plain to read.' Then +he sighed again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now, if the clock were a woman,' said he, 'it might be half-past four +and we still thinking it five minutes to twelve.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, is it there you are?' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, yes,' replied Kelly. 'Lord Oxford, do you see, Nick, is a +half-hearted sort of trembler--that we know and are ready for him. But +what of my lady?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan crossed his legs and laughed comfortably. Here was matter with +which he could confidently deal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, what of her?' he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You heard what Fanny Oglethorpe said. She is a kinswoman of Mr. +Walpole's. How shall we be sure of her at all? A woman, Nick, is a +creature who walks in the byways of thought. How shall an obtuse man +follow her?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan took a pinch of snuff.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is very well, George,' said he, 'that I took this journey with +you. I'll make your conduct plain to you as the palm of my hand. In +the first place, there was never a woman yet from Cleopatra downwards +that cared the scrape of a fiddle for politics. 'Twas never more than +a path that led to something else, and is held of just as small +account as the road a girl dances down when she goes to meet her +lover. Look at Fanny Oglethorpe, Olive Trant, and the rest of them in +Paris! D'you think it's the Cause they ever give a thought to? If you +do you're sadly out, my friend. No; what troubles their heads is +simply that the Chevalier is a romantical figure of a man, and would +look extraordinarily well with a gold crown on the top of his periwig. +Now I'm wagering it will be just the same with my Lady Oxford. You +have all the qualifications down to your legs, and let my lady once +take a liking to your person she will gulp your politics without a +grimace.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly turned a startled face towards his instructor.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You would have me pay court to her?' says he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Just that,' says Wogan, imperturbably. 'Keep your politics for my +lord and have a soft word ready for my lady. Pen her a delicate ode in +Latin. To be sure the addresses of an erudite man have something +particularly flattering to the sex. Or drop out a pretty compliment on +her ear.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, on her ear?' said Kelly, beginning to smile. 'Of what sort?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, George, but you exasperate me,' said Nick. 'Isn't there an +infinity of images you could use? For instance--,' said he, and hummed +a little.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, for instance!' said Kelly, urging him on.</p> + +<p class="normal">'For instance,' returned Wogan, 'you can speak of its functions--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I understand. I am to tell her that it is a very proper thing for a +woman to sit and listen to other people.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Tell her that,' cries Wogan, lifting up his hands, 'and you will be +drubbed down the staircase pretty quick! No. Tell her there is never a +poet laureate in the world would print a single one of his poems if he +could treasure his music within her ear.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' says Kelly. 'That is a compliment of quite a different kind,' +and he repeated it three times to commit it to memory. 'But one, Nick, +will not suffice. I must have more sayings about her ear.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And you shall,' says Wogan. 'You can speak of its appearance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Of its appearance?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And fit a simile to it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Give me one,' said Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You can say her ear is like a rosy shell on the sea-banks.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly began to laugh outright.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure,' said he, 'I might as well tell her at once her hair is sandy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, she will not examine your words so nicely. She will just perceive +that you intend a compliment.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And take me for a very impertinent fellow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'George' said Wogan, 'for a parson you are a man of a most unnatural +modesty.' In which remark Wogan did his friend no more than the merest +justice. For he had nothing in common with that usual foible of the +young chaplains and tutors who frequent the houses of the great.</p> + +<p class="normal">To listen to them over a bottle you would think them conquerors of all +hearts, from the still-room maid to my lady and her daughters. But Mr. +Kelly was in a different case. The Bishop of Rochester himself gave +him the character of being prudent and reserved beyond his years. And +perhaps it was by reason of that very modesty that he slid insensibly +into the thoughts of more women than he knew of. Of these, however, +Lady Oxford was not one.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was about three in the afternoon of the next day when the chaise +drove up to the door of the great house at Brampton Bryan. The Parson +and Nicholas Wogan had barely stepped into the hall before an inner +door opened and my lady came forward to greet them. She was for her +sex uncommonly tall, and altogether of a conquering beauty, which a +simple country dress did but the more plainly set forth. For, seeing +her, one thought what a royal woman she would look if royally attired, +and so came to a due appreciation of her consummate appearance. +Whereas, had she been royally attired, her dress might have taken some +of the credit of her beauty. She stood for a second between the two +men, looking from one to the other as though in doubt.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And which is Mr. James Johnson? 'said she, with a sly emphasis upon +the name.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am,' said George, stepping forward, 'and your Ladyship's humble +servant.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave him a smile and her hand. Mr. Kelly clicked his heels +together, bent over the hand and kissed it reverentially.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady sighed a quick little sigh (of pleasure) as she drew her hand +away.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have taken the liberty, your Ladyship,' said Kelly, 'to bring my +secretary, Mr. Hilton, with me,' and he waved a hand towards Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton,' she returned, 'is very welcome. For, indeed, we hear too +few voices in the house.' She bowed very graciously, but she did not +give her hand to Mr. Wogan. 'Gentlemen,' she continued, 'my lord bids +me make you his apologies, but he lies abed. Else would he have +welcomed you in person.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your Ladyship,' said Kelley, 'if we come at an inopportune time--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'By no means,' interrupted Lady Oxford. 'My lord is troubled with the +gout, but the fit is passing. And if for a couple of days my poor +hospitality will content you--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your Ladyship,' protested Kelly, but that was all he said. Now, to +Mr. Wogan's thinking, here was as timely an occasion for a compliment +as a man could wish. And since Mr. Kelly had not the tact to seize it, +why, his friend must come to his help. Accordingly,</p> + +<p class="normal">'So might the holy angels apologise when they open the gates of +Paradise,' said Wogan with his hand on his heart, and bowed. As he +bowed he heard some stifled sounds, and he looked up quickly. My lady +was crimson in the face with the effort to check her laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton is too polite,' said she instantly, with an elaborate +courtesy, and turned again to Kelly with some inquiries about his +journey. Wogan was shown up the stairs before the inquiries were +answered. The staircase ran round the three sides of the hall up to a +landing on the fourth, and as Wogan came to the first turn he saw Lady +Oxford cross to the great wood fire which was burning on the hearth; +when he came to the second he saw that the Parson had crossed too and +stood over against her; when he reached the third turn, my lady was +seated toasting a foot at the blaze; when he reached the landing, Mr. +Kelly had drawn up a chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan leaned for a moment over the balustrade. It was a very small +foot with an admirably arched instep; Mr. Wogan had seen the like in +Spain. Well, very likely she only thrust it out to warm it. The +firelight coloured her face to a pretty rose hue, sparkled in her dark +eyes, and searched out the gold threads in her brown hair. Mr. Wogan +was much tempted to whisper a reminder to his friend concerning her +ear. But he resisted the temptation, for after all it seemed there +would be little to do about my lady's politics.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">SHOWS THE EXTREME DANGER OF KNOWING LATIN</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">An hour later the three sat down to dinner, though, for all the +talking that one of them did, there might have been present only the +two whom Wogan had left chatting in the hall. It was not that Lady +Oxford omitted any proper courtesy towards Mr. Johnson's secretary, +but the secretary himself, sensible that he was something too apt to +say in all companies just what came into his head, was careful to keep +his tongue in a strict leash, lest an inconvenient word should slip +from him. His deficiency, however, was not remarked. Lady Oxford was +young, and for all that my lord lay upstairs in a paroxysm of the +gout, she was in the highest feather; she rattled from course to +course, plying Mr. Kelly with innumerable questions as to the latest +tittle-tattle of the tea-parties, and whether Lady Mary Wortley and +Mr. Pope were still the best of friends.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then your Ladyship is acquainted with Lady Mary?' says Kelly, looking +up with some eagerness. For Lady Mary, then a toast among the wits and +a wit among the toasts, was glanced at by some tongues as if, being +sister to the Duchess of Mar, she was not of the most loyal to the +Elector. The Duke of Mar was still Secretary to King James over the +water.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Without doubt,' returned Lady Oxford. 'Lady Mary is my bosom friend. +The dear malicious creature! What is her latest quip? Tell me, Mr. +Johnson, I die to hear it. Or rather whisper it. It will be too +deliciously cruel for loud speaking. Lady Mary's witticisms, I think, +should always be spoken in a low voice, with a suggestive nod and a +tap of the forefinger on the table, so that one may not mistake where +the sting lies. Not that the sayings are in themselves at all +clumsy--how could they be, when she has such clever friends? But they +gain much from a mysterious telling of them. You agree with me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was evident that Lady Oxford wasted no love on Lady Mary, and +Kelly's face fell.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship,' he replied, 'though I have no claims to be considered +clever, I have the honour to be ranked amongst her friends.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed!' said she with a light laugh at the rebuff. 'No doubt you +have brought her some of your laces and brocades from France, +Mr.--Johnson.' She paused slyly upon the name.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly glanced quickly at her, their eyes met, and the lady laughed. +There could be no doubt that she knew something of Kelly's business. +Indeed, she would hardly have asked him for the fashionable gossip at +all had she taken him for just what he represented himself to be. +Wogan put his foot on his friend's pretty heavily, and, he knows not +how, encountered her ladyship's. To his horror, Lady Oxford made a +moan of pain. Kelly starts up in a hurry.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship is unwell,' says he, and bids the servant bring a +bottle of salts.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' she replied with a smile on her lips and her eyes full of tears, +'but your secretary has dropped a blot on the wrong paper.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship,' cried Wogan in an extremity of confusion, 'it was the +most miserable accident, believe me. A spasm in the leg, madam, the +consequence of a sabre cut across the calf,' he explained, making the +matter worse.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, and in what battle was Mr. Johnson's secretary wounded?' she +said, taking him up on the instant.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In a struggle with the Preventive men,' replied Wogan hurriedly, and +he too broke off with a wry face, for Mr. Johnson was warning <i>him</i> +and with no less vigour. Before he knew what he was doing Wogan had +stooped down and begun to rub his leg. Lady Oxford's smile became a +laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' said she, 'and I think Mr. Johnson must have been +wounded too, in just that same way, and in just that same encounter.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, madam,' said Kelly, 'the smuggling trade is a hard one. No man +engages in it but sooner or later he gets a knock that leaves its +mark.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford expressed the profoundest sympathy with a great deal of +disbelief; and when her ladyship left her guests to their wine, they +looked at one another across the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' said Wogan cheerfully, 'if my Lady Oxford is in Mr. Walpole's +interest we have not made the best beginning in the world,' and in a +little he went off to smoke a pipe in the stables.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly withdrew to the great library, and had not been there many +minutes before Lady Oxford came in. It seemed she did not see him at +the first, although he sat bent up over the fire and his shadow huge +upon the walls. Mr. Kelly certainly did not remark her entrance. For +one thing, he was absorbed in his book; for another, the carpet was +thick and the lady's step of the lightest. She went first to the +bookcase, then she crossed the room and shuffled some papers on a +table, then she knocked against a chair, the chair knocked against the +table, and at the noise Kelly looked up. He rose to his feet. Lady +Oxford turned round, started, and uttered a sharp little cry.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My lady,' began Mr. Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, it is you, Mr. Johnson,' she broke in with a hand to her heart, +and dropped into the chair. 'I believe,' she said with a broken laugh, +'I was foolish enough to be frightened. I fancied you had gone with +your friend to the stables,' which was as much as to say that she knew +he had not. Kelly commenced an apology for so disordering her, but she +would not listen to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' she said, 'it is I that am to be blamed. Indeed, such stupid +fears need chiding. But in a house so lonely and silent they grow on +one insensibly. Indeed, I have known the mere creak of the stairs keep +me awake in terror half the night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She spoke with the air of one gently railing at her own distress, but +shivered a little to prove the distress genuine, and Kelly, as he +looked at her, felt a sudden pang of pity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your place, my lady, is not here,' he cried, 'but in the Mall, at the +Spring Gardens, in the lighted theatres, when even your ladyship's own +sex would pay you homage for outrivalling them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay,' she replied, with the sweetest smile of reproof, 'you go too +fast, Mr. Johnson. My place is here, for here my duty lies.' She +looked up to the ceiling with a meek acceptance of the burden laid +upon her fair shoulders. 'But I am not come to disturb you,' she +continued briskly; 'I came to fetch a book to read aloud to my lord.' +At that a sigh half broke from her and was caught back as it were upon +her lips. 'Perhaps, Mr. Johnson,' she said in a well-acted flurry, +'you will help me in the selection?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'With all the heart in the world,' said he, laying down his volume. +The choice took perhaps longer than need have been, for over each book +there was some discussion. This one was too trivial to satisfy my Lord +Oxford's weighty mind; that other was too profound to suit his health. +'And nothing too contentious, I implore you, lest it throw him into a +heat,' she prayed, 'for my lord has a great gift of logic, and will +argue with you by the hour over the merest trifle.' This with another +half-uttered sigh, and so the martyr sought her lord's bedside. It +appeared, however, that Lord Oxford was sleepy that night, or had no +mind for the music of his lady's voice, for in a very little while she +returned to the library and Mr. Kelly, where Wogan presently found +them discussing in a great animation the prospects of Mr. Law's +ventures.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are in for a great stake?' she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'For all I have,' replied Kelly, 'and a little more. It is not a great +sum.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But may become one,' said she, 'and will if a friend's good wishes +can at all avail.' And so she wished her guests good night.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next morning Lord Oxford sent a message that he was so far +recovered as would enable him to receive his visitors that afternoon. +Meanwhile Lady Oxford, after breakfast carried off the two gentlemen +to visit a new orchard she was having planted. The orchard was open to +the south-west, and Kelly took objection to its site, quoting Virgil +in favour of a westerly outlook.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, but the west wind,' she said, 'comes to us across the Welsh +mountains, which even in the late spring are at times covered deep in +snow. However, I should be pleased to hear the advice of Virgil,' and +the Parson goes off to the library and fetches out a copy.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a warm day in April, with the sky blue overhead and the buds +putting out on the trees, and for the most part of that morning Mr. +Kelly translated the Georgics to her ladyship, on a seat under a great +yew-tree, in a little square of grass fenced off with a hedge. She +listened with an extraordinary complaisance, and now and then a +compliment upon the Parson's fluency; so that Mr. Wogan lost all his +apprehensions as to her meddling in the King's affairs. For, to his +thinking, than listening to Virgil, there was no greater proof of +friendship.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nor was it only upon this occasion that she gave the proof. Lord +Oxford was a difficult man from his very timidity, and the Parson's +visit was consequently protracted. His lordship needed endless +assurances as to the prospects of a rising on behalf of King James, +before he would hazard a joint of his little finger to support it. Who +would take the place of the Royal Swede? Could the French Regent be +persuaded to lend any troops or arms or money, or even to wink? Had +the Czar been approached? Indeed he had, by Wogan's brother Charles. +And what office would my Lord Oxford hold when James III. was crowned? +Each day saw these questions reiterated and no conclusion come to. +Lady Oxford was never present at these discussions; the face of her +conduct was a sedulous discretion. It is true that after a little she +dropped the pretence of laces, and, when the servants were not +present, styled the Parson 'Mr. Kelly.' But that was all. 'These are +not women's matters,' she would say with a pretty humility, and then +rise like a queen and sail out of the room. Mr. Wogan might have +noticed upon such occasions that the Parson hesitated for a little +after she had gone, and spoke at random, as though she had carried off +some part of his mind from affairs with the waft of her hoop. But he +waited on the lady's dispositions and set down what he saw of his +friend's conduct at the time as merely the consequence of an endeavour +to enlist her secrecy and good-will.</p> + +<p class="normal">These councils with Lord Oxford took place, as a rule, in the +afternoon, his lordship being a late riser, and even when risen +capable only of sitting in a chair, with a leg swathed in a mountain +of flannel. So that, altogether, Mr. Kelly had a deal of time upon his +hands, and doubtless would have found it hang as heavy as Nick Wogan +did, but for the sudden interest he took in Lady Oxford's new orchard. +He would spend hours over the 'Observations on Modern Gardening,' and +then,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' he would cry,' there's no life but a country life. One wakes +in the morning, and the eye travels with delight over the green +expanse of fields. One makes friends with the inanimate things of +nature. Nick, here one might re-create the Golden Age.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To my mind,' says Nick, 'but for the dogs and horses it would be +purely insupportable. With all the goodwill in the world I cannot make +friends with a gatepost, and I'm not denying I shall be mightily glad +when the wambling old sufferer upstairs brings his mind at last to an +anchor.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But the Parson was already lost in speculation, and would presently +wake to ask Wogan's opinion as to whether a Huff-cap pear was +preferable to a Bar-land. To which he got no answer, and so, snatching +up his Virgil, would go in search of Lady Oxford. He acquired, indeed, +a most intimate knowledge of apples and pears, and would discourse +with her ladyship upon the methods of planting and grafting as +though he had been Adam, and she Flora, or, rather, our mother Eve, +before the apple was shared between them. For apples the store, the +hayloe-crab, the brandy-apple, the red-streak, the moyle, the +foxwhelp, the dymock-red; for pears the squash pear, the Oldfield, the +sack-pear, never a meal passed but one of these names cropped up at +the table and was bandied about between Kelly and her ladyship like a +tennis-ball. Now all this, though dull, was none the less reassuring +to Wogan, who saw very clearly that Lady Oxford was altogether devoted +to country pursuits, and wisely inferred that while there might result +confusion in the quality of the pears, there would be the less +disorder in the affairs of the Chevalier.</p> + +<p class="normal">Moreover, her ladyship's inclination towards Mr. Kelly plainly +increased. He translated the whole of the second book of the Georgics +to her, five hundred and forty-two mortal lines of immortal poetry, +and she never winced. Nor did she cry halt at the end of them, but, +thereafter, listened to the Eclogues; and, all at once, their +conversation was sprinkled with Melibœus and Mœris, and Lycidas +and Mopsus, and Heaven knows what other names. Mr. Wogan remembers +very well coming upon them one wet afternoon in the hall when it was +growing dark. The lamps had not been lit, and Kelly had just finished +reading one of the pastorals by the firelight. Lady Oxford sat with +her hands clasped upon her knees, and, as he closed the book,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh for those days,' she cried, 'when a youth and a maid could roam +barefoot over the grass in simple woollen garments! But now we must go +furbelowed and bedecked till there's no more comfort than simplicity,' +and she smoothed her hand over her petticoat with a great contempt for +its finery. Lady Mary Wortley, to whom Wogan related this saying +afterwards, explained that doubtless her ladyship had laced her stays +too tight that morning; but the two men put no such construction on +her words, nor, indeed, did they notice a certain contradiction +between them and Lady Oxford's anxiety for London gossip--the Parson, +because he had ceased to do anything but admire; Wogan, because a +little design had suddenly occurred to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Lady Oxford's patience under the verses which put it into +Wogan's head. For since she endured to listen to poetry about trees +and shepherds, poetry about herself must be a sheer delight to her. +So, at all events, he reasoned, not knowing that Lady Oxford had +already enjoyed occasion to listen to poetry about herself from Lady +Mary's pen, which was anything but a delight. Accordingly he hinted to +his friend that a little ode might set a firm seal upon her +friendliness.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Make her a Dryad in one of the trees of her own orchard, d'ye see?' +he suggested; 'something pretty and artful, with sufficient allusions +to her beauty. Who knows but what she may be so flattered as to carry +the verses against her heart; and so, when some fine day she brings +her husband's secrets to Mr. Walpole, she may hear the paper crackling +against her bodice, and turn back on the very doorstep.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She will carry no secrets,' replied Kelly with a huff. 'She is too +conscious of her duties. Besides, she knows none. Have you not seen +her leave the room the moment politics are so much as hinted of?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said Wogan. 'But what's her husband for except to provide her +with secrets when they are alone to which she cannot listen without +impertinence in company?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly moved impatiently away. He stood with a foot upon the fender, +turning over the pages of his Virgil.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You allow her no merit whatsoever,' he said slowly with a great +gentleness.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed, but I do,' replied Wogan. 'I allow that she will be charmed +by your poetry, and that's a rare merit. She will find it as soothing +as a soldier does a pipe of tobacco after a hard day's fighting.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would not practise on her for the world,' says Kelly with just the +same gentleness, and goes softly out by the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan, however, was troubled by no such delicate scruples. An ode must +be written, even if he had to write it himself. He slapped his +forehead as the notion occurred to him. The ode might be dropped as +though by accident at some spot where her ladyship's eyes could not +fail to light on it. Wogan heaved a deep breath, took a turn across +the room, and resolved on the heroical feat. He would turn poet to +help his friend. For two nights he fortified himself with the perusal +of Sir John Suckling's poems, and the next morning took pencil and +paper into the garden. He walked along the terrace, and seated himself +on the bench beneath the yew-tree. Wogan sucked strenuously at his +pencil.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Strephon to his Smilinda, running barefoot over the grass in a gale +of wind,' he wrote at the top, and was very well pleased with the +title. By noonday he had produced a verse, and was very well pleased +with that, except, perhaps, that the last line halted. The verse ran +as follows:--</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0"> +Nay, sweet Smilinda, do not chide<br> +The wind that wantons with thy hair;<br> +The grass will all his prickles hide<br> +Nor harm thy snowy feet and bare.<br> +And, listen, the enamoured air<br> +Makes lutestrings of thy locks so fair.<br> +At night the stars are mirrors which reflect<br> +Thine eyes: at least that is what I expect.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan spent an hour and three pipes of tobacco over his unwonted +exercise, which brought him into a great heat.</p> + +<p class="normal">Having finished the verse he blew out his cheeks and took a rest from +his labours. It was a fine spring morning, and the sun bright as a +midsummer day. To his right the creepers were beginning to stretch +their green tendrils over the red bricks of the garden wall. To his +left half-a-dozen steps led up to a raised avenue of trees. Wogan +looked down the avenue, noted the border of spring flowers, and a +flash of a big window at the extreme end; and in all the branches the +birds sang. The world seemed all together very good, and his poem +quite apiece with the world. Wogan stretched his arms and kicked out +his feet. His feet struck against something hard in a tuft of grass. +He stooped down and picked it up. It was Kelly's Virgil. The book was +open, and the pages all blotted and smeared with the dew. It had +evidently lain open on the grass by the bench all night. Wogan wiped +the covers dry, and, using it as a desk, settled himself to the +composition of his second verse. He had not, however, thought of an +opening for it before a voice hailed him from behind.</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned round and saw Kelly coming towards him from the direction of +the orchard, and at that moment the opening of his verse occurred to +him; Strephon offered to Smilinda his heart's allegiance. Wogan set +his pencil to the paper, fearful lest he should forget the line.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' cries Kelly, waving a bundle of letters, and starts to run. +Wogan slipped his paper between the leaves of the book; just as he did +so, Strephon, in return for his heart's 'allegiance,' asked for +Smilinda's soft 'obedience.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' cries Kelly again, coming up to the bench, 'what d'you think?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I think, 'says Wogan, 'that interruption is the true source of +inspiration.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What do you mean?' asked Kelly, looking at Wogan's pencil.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I mean,' says Wogan, looking at the cover of the book, 'that if I +lived by my poetry, I would hire a man to rap at my door all day +long.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly, however, had no ears for philosophy.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' says he, 'will you listen to me, if you please? I have a +letter from Miss Oglethorpe. It explains--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' interposed Wogan thoughtfully. 'It explains why the best poets +are ever those who are most dunned by their creditors.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly snatched the Virgil out of Wogan's hand, and threw it on to the +grass. The book opened as it fell. It opened at the soiled pages, and +it was behind those pages that Wogan had slipped his poem.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are as contrarious as a woman. Here am I, swollen with the +grandest news, and you must babble about poets and creditors. Nick, +there'll be few creditors to dun you and me for a bit. Just listen, +will you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">He leaned his elbows on the back of the bench, and read from his +letter. It was to the effect that, during April, an edict had been +published in France, transferring to Mr. Law's company of the West the +exclusive rights of trading to the East Indies and the South Seas.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Think of it, Nick!' he cried. 'The actions have risen from 550 livres +to 1,000, and we are as yet at the budding of May. Why, man, as it is +we are well to do. Just imagine that, if you can, you threadbare +devil! We shall be rich before August.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'We shall dine off silver plates in September!' cries Nick, leaping up +in the contagion of his friend's good spirits..</p> + +<p class="normal">'And drink out of diamond cups in November,' adds Kelly, dropping at +once into the Irish accent.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Bedad!' shouts Wogan, 'I'll write my poetry on beaten gold,' and he +sprang on to the seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You shall,' replies Kelly; 'and your ink shall be distilled out of +black pearls.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, George, one does not write on gold with ink, but with a graving +tool.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'This nonsense, and poetry, are what the lucky heart sings,' said +Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To a tune of clinking coins,' said Wogan. He stooped down to his +friend. 'Have it all in solid gold, and tied up in sacks,' said he +earnestly. 'None of their bills of exchange, but crowns, and pieces of +eight, and doubloons, and guinea-pieces; and all tied up in sacks.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What will we do with it?' asked Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, sit on the sacks,' replied Nick, and then grew silent. He looked +at Kelly. Kelly looked away to the garden-wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah!' said the Parson, with a great start of surprise. 'There's a +lizard coming out of the bricks to warm himself,' and he made a step +away from the bench. Wogan's hand came quickly down upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George,' said he, 'I think we are forgetting something. Not a +farthing of it is mine at all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now, that's a damned scurvy ungenerous remark,' replied George. +'Haven't I borrowed half of your last sixpence before now?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan got down from the seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Poverty may take a favour from poverty, George, and 'tis all very +well.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly sat himself down on the bench, crossed his knees, and swung a +leg to and fro.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I don't want the money,' said he, with a snort.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My philosophy calls it altogether an encumbrance,' said Wogan, +sitting down by his side.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly turned his back on Wogan, and stared at the garden-wall. Then he +turned back.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know,' said he of a sudden, and smacks his hand down on Wogan's +thigh. 'We'll give it to the King. He can do no more than spend it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He will certainly do no less.' But they did not give it to the King.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was sitting turned rather towards the house, and as he looked +down the avenue, he saw the great windows at the end open, and Lady +Oxford come out.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here's her ladyship come for her Latin lesson,' said Wogan, and he +rose from his seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll tell her of our good fortune,' said Kelly, and he walked quickly +to the steps at the end of the avenue. Lady Oxford stopped on the +first step, with a hand resting on the stone balustrade. George Kelly +stood on the grass at the foot of the steps, and told her of his news.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The shares,' he ended, 'have risen to double value already.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to Wogan that her eyes flashed suddenly with a queer, +unpleasant light, and the hand which was resting idly on the +balustrade crooked like the claws of a bird. He had seen such eyes, +and such a hand, at the pharo tables in Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is the best news I have heard for many a day,' she said the next +instant, with a gracious smile, and coming down the steps, walked by +Mr. Kelly's side towards the bench.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what will you do with it?' she asked. It was her first question, +for she was a practical woman.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In the first flush,' replied Kelly, hesitating as to how he should +put the answer, 'we had a thought of disposing of it where it is +sorely needed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked quickly at Kelly; as quickly looked away. She took a step +to the seat with her eyes on the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' she observed slowly; 'you would give it away.' There was, +perhaps, a trifle of a pucker upon her forehead, perhaps a shade of +disappointment in her eyes. But it was all gone in a moment. She +clasped her hands fervently together, raised her face to the heavens, +her cheeks afire, her eyes most tender. 'Indeed,' she exclaimed, 'the +noblest, properest disposition of it! Heaven dispense me more such +friends who, in a world so niggardly, retain so ancient a spirit of +generosity,' and she stood for a little, with her lips moving, as if +in prayer. It was plain to Mr. Wogan that her ladyship had guessed the +destination of the money. No such thought, however, troubled George +Kelly, who was wholly engaged in savouring the flattery, and, from his +appearance, found it very much to his taste.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would not, however, if a woman might presume to advise,' she +continued, 'be in any great hurry to sell the shares. Though they have +risen high, they will doubtless rise higher. And your gift, if you +will but wait, in a little will grow worthier of the spirit which +prompts it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' returned Kelly, 'it is very prudent advice. I will be careful +to follow it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it relief which showed for an instant in Lady Oxford's face? Kelly +did not notice; Wogan could not tell; and a second afterwards an event +occurred which wholly diverted his thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">All three had been standing with their faces towards the garden-seat, +the yew-tree and the orchard beyond, Lady Oxford between, and a little +in advance of Kelly and Wogan, so that each saw her face obliquely +over her shoulders. Now, however, she turned and sat down, giving thus +her whole face to the two men; and both saw it suddenly blanch, +suddenly flush as though all the blood had leaped from her heart into +her cheeks, and then fade again to pallor. Terror widened and fixed +her eyes, her lips parted, she quivered as though she had been struck +a buffet across the face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship--' began Kelly, and, noticing the direction of her +gaze, he broke off his sentence, and turned him about. As he moved, +Lady Oxford, even in the midst of her terror, stole a quick, conscious +glance at his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, 'tis a predecessor to George,' thought Wogan; and he too turned +about.</p> + +<p class="normal">Some twenty paces away a man was waiting in an easy attitude. He was +of the middle height, and, judged by his travelling dress and bearing, +a gentleman. His face was thin, hard, and sallow of complexion, the +features rather peaked, the eyes dark, and deepset beneath the brows. +Without any pretension to good looks, the stranger had a certain +sinister distinction--stranger, for that he was to the two men at this +time, whatever he may have been to Lady Oxford. Yet George thought he +had seen the man's eyes before, at Avignon, when the King was there; +and Wogan later remembered his voice, perhaps at Genoa, which he had +used much at one time. He stood just within the opening in the hedge, +and must needs have come through the trees beyond, while Lady Oxford +and her guests were discussing the Parson's good fortune.</p> + +<p class="normal">As soon as he saw the faces turned towards him, he took off his hat, +made a step forwards, and flourished a bow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship's most humble and obedient servant.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He laid a stress upon the word 'obedient,' and uttered it with a +meaning smile. Lady Oxford returned his bow, but instinctively shifted +her position on the bench towards Kelly, and timidly put out a hand as +though she would draw him nearer.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger took another step forwards. There was no change in his +expression, but the step was perhaps more swiftly taken.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. George Kelly,' he said quietly, and bowed again. 'The Reverend +Mr. George Kelly, I think,' and he bowed a third time, but lower, and +with extreme gravity.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan started as the stranger pronounced the name. Instantly the +stranger turned to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' said he, 'Captain Nicholas Wogan, I think,' and he took a third +step. His foot struck in a tuft of grass, and he stumbled forward; he +fell plump upon his knees. For a gentleman of so much dignity the +attitude was sufficiently ridiculous. Wogan grinned in no small +satisfaction.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, my unknown friend,' said he, 'I think something has tripped you +up.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' said the stranger, and, as he stood up, he picked up a book +from the grass.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is,' said he, 'a copy of Virgil.'</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">A LITERARY DISCUSSION IN WHICH A CRITIC, NOT +FOR THE FIRST TIME, TURNS THE TABLES +UPON AN AUTHOR</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Kelly frowned at Wogan, enjoining silence by a shake of the head. Her +ladyship was still too discomposed to speak; she drew her breath in +quick gasps; her colour still came fitfully and went. The only person +entirely at ease in that company was the disconcerting stranger, and +even behind his smiling mask of a face one was somehow aware of +sleeping fires; and underneath the suave tones of his voice one +somehow felt that there ran an implacable passion.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Upon my word,' said he, 'I find myself for a wonder in the most +desirable company. A revered clergyman, a fighting captain, a lady +worthy of her quality, and a poet.' He tapped the Virgil as he spoke, +and it fell open between his hands. His speech had been uttered with a +provocative politeness, and since no one responded to the provocation, +he continued in the same strain. 'The story of Dido'--the book was +open at the soiled pages--'and all spluttered with tears.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It has lain open in the dew since yesterday,' interrupted Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Tears no less because the night has shed them,' he replied; 'and +indeed it is a sad story, though not all true as the poet relates it. +For Dido had a gout-ridden husband hidden discreetly away in a dark +corner of the Palace, and Æneas was no more than an army chaplain, +though he gave himself out for a general.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly flushed at the words, and took half a step towards the speaker +of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is very true, Mr. Kelly. A chaplain, my soul upon it, a chaplain. +Didn't he invoke his religion when he was tired of the lady, and so +sail away with a clear conscience? A very parsonical fellow, Mr. +Kelly. <i>O infelix Dido!</i> he burst out, 'that met with an army +chaplain, and so became food for worms before her time!'</p> + +<p class="normal">He shut up the book with a bang, and, as ill-luck would have it, Mr. +Wogan's poem peeped out from the covers as if in answer to his knock.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oho,' says he, 'another poet,' and he read out the dedication.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Strephon to his Smilinda running barefoot in a gale of wind.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly laughed aloud, and a faint smile flickered for the space of a +second about Lady Oxford's lips. Wogan felt his cheeks grow red, but +constrained himself to a like silence with his companions. His +opportunity would come later; meanwhile some knowledge was needed of +who the stranger was.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A pretty conceit,' resumed the latter, 'though consumption in its +effects. Will the author pardon me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">He took the sheet of paper in his hand, dropped the Virgil carelessly +on the grass, and read out the verses with an absolute gravity which +mocked at them more completely than any ridicule would have done. 'It +breaks off,' he added, 'most appropriately just when the gentleman +claims the lady's obedience. There is generally a break at that point. +"At least, that is what I expect,"' he quoted. Then he looked at each +of his two adversaries. For adversaries his language and their faces +alike proved them to be. 'Now which is Strephon?' he asked, with an +insinuating smile, as he calmly put the verses in his pocket. 'Is it +the revered clergyman or the fighting captain?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly's face flushed darkly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The revered clergyman,' he broke in, and his voice shook a little, +'would be happy to be reminded of the occasion which brought him the +honour of your acquaintance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A sermon,' replied the stranger. 'I was much moved by a sermon which +you preached in Dublin upon the text of "Render unto Cæsar the things +that are Cæsar's."'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly could not deny that he had preached that sermon; and for all +he knew the stranger might well have been among his audience. He +contented himself accordingly with a bow. So Wogan stepped in.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the fighting captain,' he said, with a courtesy of manner no whit +inferior to his questioner's, 'would be glad to know when he ever +clapped eyes upon your honour's face, if you please.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Never,' answered the other with a bow. 'Captain Nicholas Wogan never +in his life saw the faces of those who fought behind him. He had eyes +only for the enemy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, Mr. Wogan had fought upon more than one field of which he thought +it imprudent to speak. So he copied the Parson's example and bowed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Does her ladyship also wish to be reminded of the particulars of our +acquaintance?' said the stranger, turning now to Lady Oxford. There +was just a tremor, a hint of passion discernible in his voice as he +put the question. Both Wogan and Kelly had been waiting for it, had +restrained themselves to silence in the expectation of it. For only +let the outburst come, and the man's design would of a surety tumble +out on the top. Lady Oxford, however, suddenly interposed and +prevented it. It may be that she, too, had caught the threatening +tremble of his words, and dreaded the outburst as heartily as the +others desired it. At all events, she rose from the bench as though +some necessity had spurred her to self-possession.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, Mr. Scrope,' she said calmly, 'I do not wish to be reminded of +our acquaintance either in particular or in general. It was a slight +thing at its warmest, and I thank God none of my seeking. Mr. Kelly, +will you give me your arm to the house?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger for a second was plainly staggered by her words. Kelly +cast a glance at Wogan which the 'fighting captain' very well +understood, offered his arm to Lady Oxford, and before the stranger +recovered himself, the pair were up the steps and proceeding down the +avenue.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A slight thing!' muttered Mr. Scrope in a sort of stupor. 'God, +what's a strong thing, then?' and at that the passion broke out of +him. 'It's the Parson now, is it?' he cried. 'Indeed, Mr. Wogan, a +parson is very much like a cat. Whether he throws his cassock over the +wall, or no, it is still the same sly, soft-footed, velvety creature, +with a keen eye for a soft lap to make his bed in,' and with an oath +he started at a run after Kelly. Wogan, however, ran too, and he ran +the faster. He got first to the steps, sprang to the top of them, and +turned about, just as Mr. Scrope reached the bottom.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wait a bit, my friend!' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Let me go, if you please,' said Mr. Scrope, mounting the lowest step.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You and I must have a little talk first.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will be talk of a kind uncommon disagreeable to you,' said Mr. +Scrope hotly, and he mounted the second step.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan laughed gleefully.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, that's just the way I would have you speak,' said he. Mr. Scrope +stopped, looked over Wogan from head to foot, and then glanced past +him up the avenue.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no quarrel with you, Mr. Wogan,' he said politely, and took +the third step.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And have you not?' asked Wogan. 'I'm thinking, on the contrary, that +you took exception to my poetry.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Was the poetry yours? Indeed, I did not guess that,' he replied. 'But +the greatest of men may yet be poor poets.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'In this case you're mightily mistaken,' cried Wogan, and he stamped +his foot and threw out his chest. 'I am my poetry.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Scrope squinted up the avenue under Wogan's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Damn!' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan turned round; Parson Kelly and her ladyship were just passing +through the window into the house. Wogan laughed, but a trifle too +soon. For as he still stood turned away and looking down the avenue, +Mr. Scrope took the last three steps at a bound, and sprang past him. +Luckily as he sprang he hit against Wogan's shoulder, and so swung him +round the quicker. Wogan just caught the man's elbow, jerked him back, +got both his arms coiled about his body, lifted him off his feet, and +flattened him up against his chest. Mr. Scrope struggled against the +pressure; he was lithe and slippery like a fish, and his muscles gave +and tightened like a steel spring. Wogan gripped him the closer, +pinioning his arms to his side. In a little Scrope began to pant, and +a little after to perspire; then the veins ridged upon his face, and +his eyes opened and shut convulsively.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Have you had enough, do you think?' asked Wogan; 'or shall I fall on +you? But you may take my word for it, whatever you think of my +love-poems, that I never yet fell on any man but something broke +inside of him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Scrope was not in that condition which would enable him to +articulate, but he seemed to gasp an assent, and Wogan put him down. +He staggered backwards towards the house for a yard or two, leaned +against one of the trees, and then, taking out his handkerchief, wiped +his forehead; at the same time he walked towards the house, but with +the manner of a man who is dizzy, and knows nothing of his direction.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stop!' cried Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope stooped, and turned back carelessly, as though he had not heard +the command. Indeed, he seemed even to have forgotten why he was out +of breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan,' he said, 'I do not quite understand. It seems you write +love-poems to her ladyship, and yet encourage the Parson to court +her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was not to be drawn into any explanation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Let us leave her ladyship entirely out of the question. There's the +value of my poetry to be argued out.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Scrope bowed, and they walked down the steps side by side, and +through the opening in the hedge. A path led through the trees, and +they followed it until they came to an open space of sward. Wogan +measured it across with his stride.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A very fitting place for the argument, I think,' he said, and took +off his coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What? In Smilinda's garden?' asked Scrope easily. 'Within view of +Smilinda's windows? Surely the common road would be the more +convenient place.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, and that's true,' answered Wogan. 'It would have been an +outrage.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Scrope, 'merely a flaw in the argument. This is the nearest +way. At least, I think so,' and he turned off at an angle, passed +through a shrubbery, and came out opposite a little postern-gate in +the garden-wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You know the grounds well,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is my first visit,' replied Scrope, with a trace of bitterness, +'but I have been told enough of them to know my way.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He stepped forward and opened the gate. Outside in the road stood a +travelling chaise with a pair of horses harnessed to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is no one within view,' said Wogan. The road ran to right and +left empty as far as the eye could reach; in front stretched the empty +fields.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No one,' said Mr. Scrope, and he looked up to the sky.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, I would as lief take my last look at the sunlight as at +anything else, and I doubt not it is the same with you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan, in spite of himself, began to entertain a certain liking for +the man. He had accepted each stroke of ill-fortune--his discomfiture +at Lady Oxford's hands, the grapple on the steps, and now this +duel--without disputation. Moreover Wogan was wondering whether or no +the man had some real grievance against her ladyship and what motive +brought him, in what expectation, in his chaise to Brampton Bryan. He +felt indeed a certain compunction for his behaviour, and he said +doubtfully,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Scrope, you and I might have been very good friends in other +circumstances.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I doubt it very much, Mr. Wogan.' Scrope shook his head and smiled. +'Your poetry would always have come between us. I would really sooner +die than praise it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked up and down the road as he spoke, and then made an almost +imperceptible nod at his coachman.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That field opposite will do, I think,' Scrope said, and advanced from +the doorway to the side of his chaise as though he was looking for +something. It was certainly not his sword; Wogan now thinks it was his +pistols. Wogan felt his liking increase and was inclined to put the +encounter off for a little. It was for this reason that he stepped +forward and passed an arm through Scrope's just as the latter had set +a foot on the step of the chaise, no doubt to search the better for +what he needed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now what's amiss with the poem?' asked Wogan in a friendly way.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is altogether too inconsequent,' replied Scrope with a sudden +irritation for which Wogan was at a loss to account.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But my dear man,' said he, 'it was not intended for a syllogism.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope took his foot off the step and turned to Wogan as though a new +thought had sprung into his brain.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan,' he said, 'I shall have all the pleasure imaginable in +pointing out the faults to you if you care to listen and have the +leisure. Then if you kill me afterwards, why I shall have done you +some slight service and perhaps the world a greater. If I kill you, on +the other hand, why there's so much time wasted, it is true, but I am +in no hurry.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no escape from the duel; that Wogan knew. Mr. Scrope had +insulted the Parson, Lady Oxford, and himself; he was aware besides +that the Parson and Wogan, both of them at the best suspected +characters, were visiting the Earl of Oxford; and he had, whether it +was justified or no, a hot resentment against the Parson. He might, +since he knew so much, know also more, as, for instance, the names +under which the Parson and Wogan were hiding themselves. It would not +in any case need a very shrewd guess to hit upon their business, and +if Mr. Scrope got back safe to London, why he might make himself +confoundedly unpleasant. Wogan ran through these arguments in his +mind, and was brought to the conclusion that he must most infallibly +kill Mr. Scrope; but at the same time a little of his company +meanwhile could do no harm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nor I,' replied Wogan accordingly. 'I shall be delighted to confute +your opinions.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Scrope bowed; it seemed as though his face lighted up for a +moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is no reason why we should stand in the road,' he said, 'when +we can sit in the chaise.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very true,' answered Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope mounted into the chaise. Wogan followed upon his heels. They +sat down side by side, and Scrope pulled out the verses from his +pocket. He read the dedication once more:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Strephon to Smilinda running barefoot over the grass in a gale of +wind.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Let me point out,' said he, 'that you have made the lady run barefoot +at the very time when she would be most certain to put on her shoes +and stockings. And that error vitiates the whole poem. For the wind is +severe, you will notice. So when she reprimands the storm, she should +really reprimand herself for her inconceivable folly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But Smilinda has no shoes and stockings at all in the poem,' replied +Wogan triumphantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That hardly betters the matter,' returned Scrope. 'For in that case +her feet might be bare but they would certainly not be snowy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He stooped down as he spoke and drew from under the seat a bottle of +wine, which he opened.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This,' he said, 'may help us to consider the poem in a more +charitable light.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave Wogan the bottle to hold, and stooping once more fetched out a +couple of glasses. Then he held one in each hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now will you fill them?' he said. Wogan poured out the wine and while +pouring it:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Two glasses?' he remarked. 'It seems you came prepared for the +conversation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope raised his eyes quickly to Wogan's face, and dropped them again +to the glasses.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One might easily have been broken,' he explained.</p> + +<p class="normal">They leaned back in the chaise, each with a glass in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is to your taste, I hope,' said Scrope courteously.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan smacked his lips in contentment.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lord Oxford has no better in his cellars.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I may agree without boastfulness. It is indeed Florence of a rare +vintage, which I was at some pains to procure.' He laughed with a +spice of savagery and resumed the consideration of Wogan's verses.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You seem to me to have missed the opportunity afforded by your gale +of wind. A true poet would surely have made great play with the lady's +petticoats.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Smilinda had none,' again replied Wogan in triumph, and he emptied +his glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No shoes and stockings and no petticoats,' said he in a shocked +voice. 'It is well you wrote a poem about her instead of painting her +portrait,' and he filled Wogan's glass again, and added a little to +his own, which was no more than half empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Don't you comprehend, my friend,' exclaimed Wogan, 'that Smilinda's a +nymph, an ancient Roman nymph?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, she's a nymph!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, and so wears no clothes but a sort of linsey-wolsey garment +kirtled up to her knees.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, let that pass. But here's a line I view with profound +discontent. "The grass will all its prickles hide." Thistles have +prickles, Mr. Wogan, but the grass has blades like you and me; only, +unlike you and me, it has no scabbards to sheathe them in.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' said Wogan, 'but that's very wittily said,' and he laughed and +chuckled.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is not bad, upon my faith,' replied Scrope. 'Let us drink to it in +full glasses.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He emptied the bottle into Wogan's glass and tossed it into the road.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now here's something more. The wind, you observe, makes lutestrings +of Smilinda's hair.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is little fault to be discovered in that image, I fancy,' said +Wogan, lifting his glass to his lips with a smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a whimsical image,' replied Scrope. 'It is as much as to call +her hair catgut.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was startled by the criticism. He sat up and scratched his nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, I had not thought of that,' he said. He was somewhat +crestfallen, and he looked to his glass for consolation. The glass was +empty; he looked on to the road where the empty bottle rolled in the +dust.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have its fellow,' said Scrope, interpreting Wogan's glance. He +produced a second bottle from the same place. The second bottle +brought them to the end of the verse. There was, however, a little +discussion over the last line, and a third bottle was broached to +assist.</p> + +<p class="normal">'"At least that is what I expect." It is a very vile line, Mr. Wogan.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is, perhaps, not so good as the others,' Wogan admitted. 'But you +must blame the necessities of rhyming.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But the art of the poet is to conceal such necessities,' answered +Scrope. 'And observe, Mr. Wogan, you sacrifice a great deal here to +get an accurate rhyme, but in the remaining two lines of the next +verse you do not trouble your head about a rhyme at all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, let me see that!' said Wogan, holding out a hand for the paper. +He had clean forgotten by this time what those two lines described.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Allegiance, Mr. Wogan,' said Scrope, politely handing him the verses, +'is no rhyme to obedience.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Allegiance--obedience--obedience--allegiance,' repeated Wogan as +clearly as he could. 'Nay, I think it's a very good rhyme.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh!' exclaimed Scrope in a sudden comprehension. 'If you tell me the +verses are conceived in the Irish dialect, I have not another word to +say.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Now Mr. Wogan, as a rule, was a little touchy on the subject of his +accent. But at this moment he had the better part of three bottles of +admirable Florence wine under his belt and was so disposed to see +great humour in any remark. He grew uproarious over Mr. Scrope's +witticism.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, but that's the most delicate jest I have heard for months,' he +cried. 'Conceived in the Irish dialect! Ho! Ho! I must tell it at the +Cocoa Tree--though it hits at me,' and he stood up in the chaise. +'Obedience--allegiance.' Mr. Scrope steadied him by the elbow. 'Faith, +Mr. Scrope, but you and I must have another crack one of these days.' +He put a foot out on the step of the chaise. 'I love a man that has +some warmth in his merriment--and some warmth in his bottle too.' He +stepped out of the chaise on to the ground. 'The best Florence I have +tasted--the best joke I have heard--the Irish dialect. Ha, ha!' and he +waved a hand at Scrope. Scrope called quickly to the coachman; the +next instant the chaise started off at a gallop.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was left standing in the road, shouting his laughter. When the +coach chaise was some thirty yards away, however, his laughter stopped +completely. He rubbed his hand once or twice over his bemused +forehead.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stop!' he yelled suddenly, and began to run after the chaise. Scrope +stood up and spoke to the driver. The horses slackened their pace +until Wogan got within twenty yards of it. Then Scrope spoke again, +and the coachman drove the horses just as fast as Wogan was running.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have forgotten something, my friend,' cries Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what's that?' asked Scrope pleasantly, leaning over the back of +the chaise.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have forgotten the duel.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' shouted Scrope with a grimace. 'It is you that forgot that.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, you cheese-curd!--you white-livered coward!' cried Wogan, 'and I +taking you for a fine man--equal to myself--you chalky cheese-curd!' +He quickened his pace; Scrope called to the coachman; the coachman +whipped up his horses. 'Oh wait a bit till I come up with you. I'll +eat you in your clothes.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan bounded along the road, screaming out every vile epithet he +could lay his tongue to in the heat of the moment. His hat and wig +fell off on the road; he did not stop, but ran on bareheaded.</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8pt"> +'But listen, the enamoured air<br> +Makes lutestrings of thy locks so fair,'</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">quoted Scrope, rubbing his hands with delight. Wogan's fury redoubled, +he stripped off his coat and ran till the road grew dizzy and the air +flashed sparks at him. But the chaise kept ever at the same distance. +With this interval of twenty yards between them, chaise and Wogan +dashed through the tiny street of Brampton Bryan. A horde of little +boys tumbled out of the doors and ran at Wogan's heels. The more he +cursed and raved, the more the little boys shouted and yelled. Scrope +in the chaise shook with laughter, clapped his hands as if in +commendation of Wogan's powers, and encouraged him to greater efforts. +They passed out of the village; the children gave up the pursuit, and +sent a few parting stones after Wogan's back; in front stretched the +open road. Wogan ran half a mile further, but he was too heavily +handicapped with his three bottles of wine, and Scrope's horses were +fresh. He shouted out one last oath, and then in a final spasm of fury +sat down by the roadside, stripped off his shoe, and springing into +the middle of the road, hurled it with all his might at the retreating +chaise. The shoe struck the top of the hood, balanced there for a +moment, and bounced over on to the seat. Scrope took it up and waved +it above his head.</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8pt"> +'The grass will all its prickles hide,<br> +Nor harm thy snowy feet and bare.'</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">The driver plied his whip; the chaise whirled out of sight in a cloud +of dust; and the disconsolate Wogan hobbled back to Brampton Bryan +with what secrecy he could.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Scrope was on his way with the road to London open, were he +disposed to follow it. Mr. Wogan seemed to see his chaise flashing +through the turnpikes, and his sallow cheeks taking on an eager colour +as the miles were heaped behind him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He knew that Mr. Kelly and Nicholas Wogan were at Lord Oxford's house +at Brampton Bryan. He knew enough, therefore, to throw some disorder +on the Chevalier's affairs were he disposed to publish his news. But +not in that way did he take, at this time, his revenge upon the +Parson.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">MR. NICHOLAS WOGAN REMINDS THE PARSON OF A +NIGHT AT THE MAZARIN PALACE</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">While Wogan pursued in vain a flying foe, Lady Oxford and Parson Kelly +waited in the house for his return, her ladyship in a great +discomposure and impatience, and the Parson more silent than ordinary. +Whatever he may have thought of Scrope's unexpected visit, his pride +forbade him questions.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The most unfortunate affair,' exclaimed her ladyship distractedly. +'Sure never was a woman so cursed. But indeed I was born under a +frowning star, Mr. Kelly, and so my lord's friends cannot visit him, +but some untoward accident puts them into peril.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You need be troubled by no fears on our account,' replied Kelly, 'for +Nick will ensure the fellow's silence before ever he lets him out of +his sight.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said she, with a fresh pang of anxiety, 'Mr. Wogan is with him +and will doubtless seek an explanation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly smiled, but without any overwhelming amusement.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Neither,' said he, 'need your ladyship fear that he will listen to +any indiscreet explanation. Words have very little to do with the +explanations which Nicholas favours.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford remarked the distant stateliness in Kelly's tone and was +in a hurry to retrieve the slip she had made.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is just that I mean,' she cried, coming over to Kelly. 'If Mr. +Wogan--kills this man,' and her eyes flashed as though she did in her +heart desire that consummation, 'here at the Park Gates--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Believe me,' replied Kelly reassuringly, 'he will omit no proper +ceremony if he does.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, nor will the county justices either,' retorted Lady Oxford, 'and +there are Mr. George Kelly and Mr. Nicholas Wogan to explain their +presence at Brampton Bryan Manor, as best they can, to a bench of +bumpkins.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Again your ladyship is unnecessarily alarmed. For if Mr. Scrope is +now no more, Mr. George Kelly and Mr. Nicholas Wogan are still Mr. +James Johnson and his secretary Mr. Hilton. No harm threatens Brampton +Bryan Manor from their visit.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This he said no less coldly, and to cut the conversation short, +stalked with excessive dignity to the door. Lady Oxford was gazing +ruefully down the avenue from the window, when she heard the knob of +the door move under his hand. She turned quickly about.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was not of Brampton Bryan Manor I was thinking,' she said +hurriedly, 'nor of our safety. Why, in what poor esteem do you hold +me! Am I then so contemptible a thing?' There was no anger in her +reproach. Rather it melted in a most touching sadness. 'Have I no +friends whose safety troubles me?' she added. At that out came her +handkerchief and fluttered at her eyes. 'Nay, but I thought I had--two +of the noblest.' It was a mere scrap of a handkerchief, and the +greater part of that a lace edging. It would not have sopped up many +tears, but it served her ladyship's turn. For indeed the mere sight of +it convinced Kelly of his monstrous cruelty.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship!' he cried, turning back. 'Tears! And I have caused +them. Faith, I should be hanged for that. Yet they flow for my friend +and me, and I am blessed instead.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But she would have none of his apologies. She stepped back as he +approached.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said she, and wiped an imaginary tear-drop from the dryest of +eyes; 'you have asked me for an explanation of Mr. Scrope's coming and +you have a right to ask it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' expostulated Kelly, 'I was careful, on the contrary, to ask +for no explanation whatever. For I have no right to it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, but you have,' returned her ladyship with asperity; and then up +went her handkerchief again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'All men,' she said, in a voice most pathetical, 'have a right to ask +any explanation of any woman, at anytime. Women, poor sad creatures, +are suspect from their cradles, and to distrust them is the +prerogative of manhood.' Here she tore away her handkerchief and +lifted her hands in an ardent prayer. 'Oh that some day I might meet +with one single man who would believe us worthy of respect!' She +walked away to the window and said in a low voice, 'With what +friendship would I requite him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus the unfortunate Mr. Kelly was not merely plunged in remorse, but +brought to see that he had missed the one solitary path which would +have led him into this great lady's friendship.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship,' he implored, 'mistakes my sentiments altogether.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Kelly,' she replied, proudly, 'we will not, if you please, pursue +the matter. You have your explanation and I trust you will allow it to +content you,' and so she sailed majestically out of the room, leaving +Mr. Kelly in that perturbation that he quite failed to notice he had +received no explanation whatever. She dropped her stateliness, +however, when the door was closed behind her, and, hurrying across the +hall, lay in wait behind a shrubbery for Wogan's return. Wogan, on the +other hand, had admirable reasons for avoiding all paths, and so +slipped into the back of the house unseen. Consequently it was not +until half-an-hour later, when Lady Oxford was fairly distracted, that +she discovered him, decently clothed, and urging upon Kelly the +necessity of an immediate retreat. He broke off from his advice as +Lady Oxford entered.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have done him no hurt? 'she asked, looking Wogan over from head +to foot in search of a speck of blood, and ready to swoon if she saw +one.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not the least in the world,' replied Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nor he you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was never any likelihood of that.' Wogan had to put the best +face on the matter possible, and since he could not own to the +humiliating truth, why, the necessary lie might just as well redound +to his credit. 'I swore him to secrecy upon his bended knees. He took +the oath on the hilt of this very sword, 'and Wogan hitched forward +his hanger.</p> + +<p class="normal">A footman at this moment announced that dinner was served.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you give me your hand, Mr. Wogan?' asked Lady Oxford, and +detaining him until Kelly had passed out of the room:</p> + +<p class="normal">'He gave you doubtless a reason for his coming?' she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Surely he did,' said Wogen, who was not for admitting any omission on +his own part.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what reason?' asked her ladyship.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan looked at the ground and got a flash of inspiration.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why,' said he as bold as brass, 'precisely the same reason which you +gave to my friend George Kelly,' in which answer Wogan hit the literal +truth, although her ladyship looked puzzled, as well she might, and +then flushed a fine crimson.</p> + +<p class="normal">However, she made up an ingenious story, and that same day hinted +rather than told it with a pretty suggestion of sympathy which quite +melted Mr. Kelly's heart, and threw Wogan into some doubt whether to +believe her or no. Scrope, it appeared, had been at some indefinite +time a secretary to Mr. Walpole, and was entrusted with the keeping of +the good man's accounts. Lady Oxford was then simply Mistress Margaret +Middleton and intimate with her cousin, Mr. Walpole, although since +her marriage, as Mr. Kelly and his friend were requested to note, that +intimacy had entirely ceased. Hence it came about that the rash Scrope +cast longing eyes upon the humble relation of his patron, and was +indeed so carried away by passion that Margaret was forced now and +again to chide him for the forwardness of his demeanour. Also, alas! +he transgressed in a more serious way. For Mr. Walpole's accounts fell +into the saddest disorder; there were sums of money of which no trace +could be found until--well, the deplorable affair was hushed up. Mr. +Scrope was turned off and set down his dismissal to Margaret, who, +gentle soul, would not have hurt a fly. From that time he had not +spared her his resentment, and would go miles out of his way if by any +chance he might fix a slight upon her. Which conduct she most +Christianly forgave, since indeed the poor man's head must needs be +turned.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yet he had all the appearances of prosperity,' objected Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I fancied that I said that there were large sums missing,' replied +her ladyship.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, you did indeed say so,' said Mr. Kelly, 'but you avoided the +implication out of your generous pity.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It is not in truth very difficult to befool a man who does half the +fooling himself. Mr. Kelly was altogether appeased by Lady Oxford's +explanation, which to his friend seemed to explain nothing, but none +the less he readily acknowledged to Wogan the propriety of hurrying +his business to a close.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To tell the truth,' said Wogan, as soon as her ladyship had +withdrawn, 'I feel my cravat stiffening prophetically about my neck. +My presence does not help you; indeed, it is another danger; and since +we are but a few miles from Aberystwith, I am thinking that I could do +nothing wiser than start for that port to-night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson drew figures with his forefinger on the table for a while; +then:</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would not have you go, he said slowly. 'I will use what despatch I +may; but I would not have you go, and leave me here.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly was true to his word, and used so much despatch that within two +days he extorted a promise from Lord Oxford to undertake the muslin +trade in England, as the cant phrase went. Possibly he might have won +that same promise before had used the same despatch. But Lord Oxford's +foible was to hold long discourses, and Mr. Pope truly said that he +had an epical habit of beginning everything at the middle. However it +may be, the two men left the Manor on the morning of the third day. +Wogan drove back with the Parson as far as Worcester, who for the +first few miles remained in a melancholy silence, and then burst out +of a sudden.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To think that she should be mewed up in a corner of Herefordshire, +with no companions but drunken rustics! Mated to an old pantaloon, +too!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure it was her ladyship's own doing,' murmured Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No woman in all London could hold a candle to her. And we distrusted +her--we distrusted her, Nick.' He beat a clenched fist into the palm +of his other hand to emphasise the enormity of the crime. 'Why, what +impertinent fools men are!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he again relapsed into silence and again broke out.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Damme! but Fortune plays bitter tricks upon the world. 'Tis all very +well to strike at a pair of rascals like you and me, Nick, but she +strikes at those who offend her least. Faith, but I am bewildered. +Here is a woman indisputably born to be a queen and she is a nurse. +And no better prospect when my lord dies than a poor jointure and a +dull Dower House.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, she told you that, did she?' said Wogan. 'Sure it was a queenly +complaint.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She made no complaint,' said Kelly fiercely. 'She would not--she +could not. It is a woman of unexampled patience.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He grumbled into silence, and his thoughts changed and turned moodily +about himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why did I ever preach that sermon?' he exclaimed. 'But for that I +might now have the care of half-a-dozen rambling parishes. Instead of +hurrying and scurrying from one end of Europe to the other, at the +risk of my neck, I might sit of an evening by the peat fire of an inn +kitchen and give the law to my neighbour. I might have a little +country parsonage all trailed over with roses, and leisure to ensure +preferment by my studies and enjoy the wisdom of my Latin friend +Tully. I might have a wife, too,' he added, 'and maybe half a score of +children to plague me out of my five wits with their rogueries.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He fetched up a sigh as he ended which would have done credit to my +Lady Oxford; and Wogan, seeing his friend in this unwonted pother, was +minded to laugh him out of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And a credit to your cloth you would have been,' says he. 'Why, it's +a bottle you would have taken into the pulpit with you, and a mighty +big tumbler to measure your discourse by. Indeed there would have been +but one point of resemblance between yourself and your worthier +brethren, and that's the number of times you turned your glass upside +down before you came to an end.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly, however, was not to be diverted from his melancholy. The +picture of the parsonage was too vivid on the canvas of his desires. +And since he dreamed of one impossibility, no doubt he went a step +further and dreamed of another besides. No doubt his picture of the +parsonage showed the figure of the parson's wife, and no doubt the +parson's wife was very like to my Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan, though he had laughed, was, to tell the truth, somewhat +disturbed, and began to reckon up how much he was himself to blame for +setting Kelly's thoughts towards her ladyship. He had not thought that +his friend had taken the woman so much to heart. But whenever the +Parson fell a dreaming of a quiet life and the cure of souls, it was a +sure sign the world was going very ill with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would have you remember, George,' said Wogan, 'that not so long ago +I saw you stand up before a certain company in Paris and cry out with +an honest--ay, an honest passion, "May nothing come between the Cause +and me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly flushed as his words were recalled to him and turned his head +away. Wogan held out his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, am I then to understand that something has come between the +Cause and you?' And he had to repeat the question before he got an +answer. Then Kelly turned back.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Understand nothing, Nick, but that I am a fool,' he cried heartily, +and slapped his hand into Wogan's. 'True, the Cause, the Cause,' he +muttered to himself once or twice. After all, Nick,' he said, 'we have +got the old man's assurance. My Lord Oxford will lend a hand. We have +not failed the Cause.' And they did not speak again until they drove +into Worcester. Then Kelly turned to Nick with a sad sort of smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, have you nothing to say to me? 'said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan could discover nothing to say until he had stepped out of +the chaise at the post-house and was shaking his friend's hand. Then +he delivered himself of the soundest piece of philosophy imaginable.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Woman,' he said, 'is very much like a jelly-fish--very pretty and +pink and transparent to look at, but with a devil of a sting if you +touch it.'</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU HAS A WORD +TO SAY ABOUT SMILINDA</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">From Worcester Nicholas Wogan made his way to Bristol, and, taking +passage there on a brigantine bound for Havre-de-Grace with a cargo of +linen, got safely over into France. He travelled forthwith to Paris +that he might put himself at the disposition of General Dillon, and, +being commanded to supper some few days after his arrival by the Duke +of Mar, saw a familiar swarthy face nodding cheerily at him across the +table. The lady was embrowned with the Eastern sun, and, having lost +her eye-lashes by that disease which she fought so manfully to +conquer, her eyes were fierce and martial. It was indeed the face of +the redoubtable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, sister to the Duchess of +Mar, who chanced to be passing through Paris on her travels from +Constantinople. Wogan remembered that Mr. Kelly's rustic friend at +Brampton Bryan had spoken of Lady Mary with considerable spleen. And +since he began to harbour doubts of her rusticity, he determined to +seek some certain information from Lady Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary was for a wonder in a most amiable mood, and had more than +one question to put concerning 'Kelly as the Bishop that was to be +when your King came to his own.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, madam, he has a new friend,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary maybe caught a suspicion of uneasiness in Wogan's tone. She +cocked her head whimsically.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A woman?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My Lady Oxford.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary made a round O of her lips, drew in a breath, and blew it +out again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There go the lawn-sleeves.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan took a seat by her side.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In what esteem is she held?' continued Wogan, 'of what character is +she?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I could never hear,' returned Lady Mary carelessly. 'For her friends +always stopped abruptly when they chanced upon her character, and the +rest was merely pursed lips and screwed-up eyes, which it would be the +unfairest thing in the world to translate in her disfavour. Her +character, Mr. Wogan, is a tender and delicate plant. It will not grow +under glass, but in a dark room, where I believe it flourishes most +invisibly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary seemed ill-disposed to pursue the topic, and began to talk +of her journey and the great things she had seen at Constantinople. +Wogan waited until she came to a pause, and then stepped in with +another question.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is Lady Oxford political?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Oxford! Lady Oxford!' she repeated almost pettishly. 'Upon my +word, the woman has infected you. You can speak of nothing else. +Political?' and she laughed maliciously. 'That she is, and on both +sides. She changes her party more often than an ambitious statesman. +For politics to my Lady Oxford are just pawns in the great game of +Love.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, Love,' exclaimed Wogan, with a recollection of Mr. Scrope. 'Is +Love her quarry?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She will play cat to any man's mouse,' returned Lady Mary +indifferently.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And there are many mice?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. However, Wogan's +appetite for information was only whetted, and to provoke Lady Mary to +speak more freely he made an inventory of Lady Oxford's charms. He +dwelt on her attractions. Lady Mary played with her fan, pulled +savagely at the feathers, opened it, shut it up, while Wogan +discoursed serenely on item--a dark eye, big, with a glint of light in +it like sunshine through a thundercloud. Lady Mary laughed scornfully. +Wogan went on to item--a profusion of blackish-brown hair, very silky, +with a gloss, and here and there a gold thread in the brown; item--a +Barbary shape; item--an admirable instep and a most engaging ankle.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would look very pretty in the stocks,' Lady Mary snapped out.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan shook his head with a knowing air.</p> + +<p class="normal">''Twould slip out.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not if I had the locking of it in,' she exclaimed with a vicious +stamp of the foot, and rose, as though to cross the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have omitted the lady's most adorable merit,' said Wogan +thoughtfully. Lady Mary was altogether human, and did not cross the +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She has the greatest affection for your ladyship. She spoke of your +ladyship indeed in quite unmeasured terms, and while praising your +ladyship's wit would not have it that one single spark was due to the +cleverness of your ladyship's friends. Upon that point she was most +strenuous.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary sat down again. The stroke had evidently told.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am most grateful to her,' she said, 'and when did Lady Oxford show +such a sweet condescension towards me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But a few weeks ago at Brampton Bryan, where she was nursing her +husband with an assiduous devotion.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have known her show the like devotion before, when her losses at +cards have driven her from London.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'So she gambles?' inquired Wogan. 'Altogether, then, a dangerous +friend for George.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Particularly for George,' said she with a smile. 'For observe, she is +compact of wiles, and so is most dangerous to an honest man. She is at +once insatiable in her desires, and implacable if they are not +fulfilled. She is always in love, and knows nothing of what the word +means. She is tender at times, but only through caprice; she is never +faithful except for profit or lack of occasion to be anything else. +Coquetry is the abiding principle of her nature, and her virtue merely +a habit of hiding her coquetry. Her mind is larded with affectations +as is her face with paint, and once or twice she has been known to +weep--when tears were likely to deceive a man. There, Mr. Wogan, you +have her likeness, and I trust you are satisfied.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not a character very much to Wogan's liking (Lady Mary, he +learned later, was quoting from a manuscript 'portrait' of her own +designing), though he drew a spice of comfort from the thought that +Lady Mary might have coloured the effigy with her unmistakable enmity. +But events proved that she had not over-coloured it, and even at that +time Lady Oxford had no better reputation than Lady Mary Wortley +attributed to her. The ballad-makers called her gallant, and they did +her no wrong--the ballad-makers of the <i>ruelles</i>, be it understood, +not they of the streets, but such poets as Lady Mary Wortley Montagu +herself and his Grace Sophia of Wharton.<a name="div2Ref_01" href="#div2_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> The street-singers knew +not Lady Oxford, who, indeed, was on the top of the fashion, and could +hold her own in the war of written verses. It was in truth to her +ability to give as good as she took in the matter of ballads that she +owed Lady Mary's hostility, who had no taste for the counter-stroke. +There were many such daring Penthesileas of the pen who never gave +each other quarter; but neither Wogan nor the Parson were at this time +in their secrets, although subsequently a ballad, not from Lady Mary's +pen, was to have an astonishing effect upon their fortunes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship can help me to make the best of it, at all events,' +said Wogan. 'Since you have told me so much, will you tell me this one +thing more? Have you ever heard of Mr. Scrope?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Scrope? Scrope?' said she casting about in her recollections. Wogan +told her the story of Mr. Scrope's appearance at Brampton Bryan, and +the explanation which Lady Oxford had given to account for it. Lady +Mary laughed heartily.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Secretary to Mr. Walpole?' she said. 'And how, then, did he come to +hear that mad sermon of Mr. Kelly's at Dublin?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure I have been puzzled to account for that myself,' says Wogan. +'But who is he? Where does he come from? What brought him to Brampton +Bryan? What took him away in such a mighty hurry? For upon my word I +find it difficult to believe the man's a coward.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And you are in the right,' replied her ladyship. 'I know something of +Mr. Scrope, and I will wager it was no cowardice made him run. I doubt +you have not seen the last of Mr. Scrope. It is a passionate, +determined sort of creature. He came to London a year or so agone. It +was understood that he was a country gentleman with a comfortable +estate in Leicestershire. He had laid his estate at Lady Oxford's +feet, before she was as yet her ladyship. Lady Oxford would have it, +and then would have none of it, and married the Earl. Well, he had +been her valet for a season, and, I have no doubt, thought the service +worth any price. She gave him her fan to hold, her gloves to caress, +and what more can a man want? He spent much of his money, and some +whisper that he turned informer afterwards.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, did he?' asked Wogan, who was now yet more concerned that he had +let the informer slip through his fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes. An informer for conscience' sake--a gentleman spy. His father +died for Monmouth's affair. He has ever hated the Pretender and his +cause. He is a Protestant and a fanatic.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she looked at Wogan and began to laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would have given much to have seen you bouncing down the road after +Mr. Scrope's chaise,' and she added seriously, 'But I doubt you have +not heard the last of Mr. Scrope.'</p> + +<p class="normal">That also was Wogan's thought. For Lady Mary's story, though vague +enough, was sufficiently clear to deepen his disquietude. Well, Mr. +Wogan would get no comfort by the mere addling his brains with +thinking of the matter, and he thrust it forth of his mind and went +upon his way, that led him clean out of the path of this story for a +while. He was despatched to Cadiz to take charge of a ship, and, in +company with Captain Galloway of the <i>Resolution</i>, who was afterwards +seized at Genoa, and Morgan, of the <i>Lady Mary</i>, he spent much +fruitless time in cruising on and off the coasts of France, Spain, and +Sweden. It was given out that they carried snuff, or were engaged in +the Madagascar trade. But they took no cargoes aboard but barrels of +powder and stands of arms, and waited on the Rising, which never came. +There were weeks idled away at Morlaix, at Roscoff in Brittany, at +Lisbon in Portugal, at Alicant Bay in Spain, until Wogan's heart grew +sick with impatience. At rare times, when the venture wore a face of +promise, the little fleet would run the hazard of the Channel and +creep along the English coast, from Dartmouth, across the West Bay to +Portland, from Portland on to the Isle of Wight. Mr. Wogan would pace +the deck of his little ketch, <i>Fortune</i>, of a night, and as he looked +at the quiet fields lying dark beneath the sky, would wonder how the +world wagged for his friend the Parson, and whether my Lady Oxford was +shaping it or no, until a longing would seize on him to drop a boat +into the water and himself into the boat, and row ashore and see. But +it was not for more than a full twelve months that his longing was +fulfilled, and during those twelve months the harm was done.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">MR. KELLY HAS AN ADVENTURE AT A MASQUERADE +BALL</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">For the greater part of that year Mr. Kelly simply went about his +business. He travelled backwards and forwards from General Dillon, +Lord Lansdowne, the Duke of Mar, in Paris, to the Bishop of Rochester, +in London, and from the Bishop to the others of the five who +mismanaged the Chevalier's affairs in England, Lord Arran, Lord +Strafford, Lord North and Grey, Lord Orrery, and last, though not +least, the Earl of Oxford. Thus business brought him more than once +knocking again at the doors of Brampton Bryan Manor, though he did not +always find her ladyship at home to welcome him. On such occasions he +found the great house very desolate for the want of her footstep and +her voice, and so would pull out his watch and fall to wondering what +at that precise moment she was engaged upon in town.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus things dallied, then, until a warm wet night of summer in the +year 1720. Mr. Kelly was in London and betook himself to His Majesty's +Theatre in Drury Lane, where he witnessed a farce which was very much +to his taste. It was entitled 'South-Sea; or the Biter Bit,' and was +happy not merely in its quips, but in the moment of its performance. +For the King, or, as the honest party called him, the Elector, and his +lords had sold out, and were off to Germany with their plunder, and +the stocks were falling by hundreds every week. Mr. Kelly might well +laugh at the sallies on the stage and the wry faces with which the pit +and boxes received them. For he had recently sold out his actions in +the Mississippi scheme at a profit of 1,200 per cent., and had his +money safe locked up at Mr. Child's, the goldsmith. Kelly's, however, +was not a mere wanton pleasure. For the floating of the bubble out of +reach meant a very solid change in the Jacobite prospects. So long as +the South-Sea scheme prospered and all the town grew wealthy, there +would be no talk of changing kings and no chance for Mr. Kelly's +friends. That great and patriotic bishop whom he served, my Lord of +Rochester, had said to him this many a month past, 'Let 'em forget +their politics, let 'em all run mad in Change Alley, and the madder +the better. For the funds will fall and be the ruin of thousands, and +when England is sunk into a salutary wretchedness and discontent, then +our opportunity will come.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was altogether, then, in a very good humour that Mr. Kelly left the +theatre. The night was young, and he disinclined for his lodgings. He +strolled across to the Groom Porters, in White Hall, where his spirits +were mightily increased. For taking a hand there at Bassette, in three +deals he won nine rich septlevas, and, for once, did not need the +money, and when he left the Groom Porters his pockets were heavy with +gold, and his head swimming with the fumes of punch.</p> + +<p class="normal">It is not to be wondered at that those same fumes of punch floated +Lady Oxford into Mr. Kelly's mind. He swaggered up St. James's Street +with her ladyship consequently riding atop of his bemused fancies. It +was a gay hour in St. James's, being then about half past one of the +morning. Music rippled out of windows open on the night. Kelly heard +the dice rattle within and the gold clink on the green cloth; lovers +were whispering on the balconies; the world seemed to be going very +well for those who had not their money in the Bubble, and for no one +better than for Mr. Kelly. He looked about him, if by chance he might +catch a glimpse of his divinity among the ladies of fashion as he +watched them getting into their chairs, pushing their hoops sidelong +before them, and the flambeaux flaring on their perfections. He +imagined himself a Paladin rescuing her from innumerable foes. She was +an angel, a sprite, a Hamadryad, in fact everything tender and +immaterial.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was roused from these dreams by an illumination of more than +ordinary brilliancy, and looking up saw that he had wandered to the +theatre in the Haymarket. A ragged crowd of pickpockets and the like +was gathered about the portico. Carriages and chairs set down in quick +succession, ladies in dominoes, gentlemen in masks. Mr. Kelly +remembered that it was a night of the masquerades; all the world would +be gathered in the theatre, and why not Lady Oxford, who was herself +the better half of it? Kelly had a ticket in his pocket, pushed +through the loiterers, and stood on the inner rim of the crowd +watching the masqueraders arrive. Every carriage that drew up surely +concealed her ladyship, every domino that passed up the steps hid her +incomparable figure. Mr. Kelly had staked his soul with unruffled +confidence upon her identity with each of the first twelve women who +thus descended before he realised that he was not the only one who +waited. From the spot where he stood he could see into the lobby of +the theatre. Heidegger, M. le surintendant des plaisirs du Roi de +l'Angleterre,</p> +<div class="poem1"> +<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8pt"> +'With a hundred deep wrinkles impressed on his front,<br> +Like a map with a great many rivers upon 't,'</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">was receiving the more important of his guests. The guests filed past +him into the parterre, Heidegger remained. But another man loitered +ever in the lobby too. He was evidently expecting someone, and that +with impatience. For as each coach or chaise drew up he peered eagerly +forward; as it delivered its occupants he turned discontentedly away. +It is perhaps doubtful whether Mr. Kelly would have paid him any great +attention but for his dress, which arrested all eyes and caused the +more tender of the ladies who passed him to draw their cloaks closer +about them with a gesture of disgust. For he was attired to represent +a headsman, being from head to foot in black, with a crape mask upon +his face and a headsman's axe in his hand. He had carried his +intention out with such thoroughness, moreover, that he had daubed his +doublet and hose with red.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was in a mood to be charmed by everything strange and +eccentric, and the presence of this bloodsmeared executioner at a +masquerade seemed to him a piece of the most delicate drollery. +Moreover, the executioner was waiting like Mr. Kelly, and with a like +anxiety. Mr. Kelly had a fellow-feeling for him in his impatience +which prompted him suddenly to run up the steps and accost him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Like me, you are doubtless waiting for your aunt,' said the Parson +courteously.</p> + +<p class="normal">The impulse, the movement, the words had all been the matter of a +second; but the executioner was more than naturally startled, as Mr. +Kelly might have perceived had he possessed his five wits. For the man +leaped rather than stepped back; he gave a gasp; his hand gripped +tight about the handle of his axe. Then he stepped close to Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You know me?' he said. The voice was muffled, the accent one of +menace. Kelly noticed neither the voice nor the menace. He bowed with +ceremony.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Without a doubt. You are M. de Strasbourg.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The headsman laughed abruptly like a man relieved.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You and I,' he returned, mimicking Kelly's politeness of manner, +'will be better acquainted in the future.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly was overjoyed with the rejoinder. 'Here's a devil of a fellow +for you,' he cried, and with his elbow nudged Heidegger in the ribs. +Heidegger was at that moment bent to the ground before the Duchess of +Wharton, and nearly stumbled over her Grace's train. He turned in a +passion as soon as the Duchess had passed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Vas you do dat for dam?' he said all in a breath. Kelly however was +engaged in contemplating the executioner. He ran his thumb along the +edge of the axe.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is cruelly blunt,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You need not fear,' returned the other. 'For your worship is only +entitled to a cord.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, so you know me,' says Kelly, stepping close to the executioner.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Without a doubt,' replied the latter, stepping back, 'Monsieur le +Marchand de dentelles.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Kelly's turn to be startled, and that he was effectually; he +was shocked into a complete recovery of his senses and an accurate +estimation of his folly. He walked to the entrance and stood upon the +steps. The executioner knew him, knew something of his trade. Who, +then, was M. de Strasbourg? Kelly recalled the tones of his voice, +conned them over in his mind, and was not a penny the wiser. He +glanced backwards furtively across his shoulder and looked the man +over from head to foot.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment a carriage drove up to the entrance. Mr. Kelly was +standing on the top of the steps and the face of the coachman on the +box was just on a level with his own. He stared, in a word, right at +it, and so took unconsciously an impression of it upon his mind, while +pondering how he should act with regard to M. de Strasbourg. +Consequently he did not notice that a woman stepped out of the +carriage and, without looking to the right or left, quickly mounted +the steps. His eyes, in fact, were still fixed upon the coachman's +face; and it needed the brushing of her cloak against his legs to +rouse him from his reflections.</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned about just as she disappeared at the far end of the lobby. +He caught a glimpse of a white velvet cloak and an inch of blue satin +petticoat under a muffling domino. He also saw that M. de Strasbourg +was drawn close behind a pillar, as though he wished to avoid the +lady. As soon, however, as she had vanished he came boldly out of his +concealment and followed her into the theatre. Mr. Kelly began +instantly to wonder whether a closer view of the domino would help him +discover who M. de Strasbourg really was, and entering the theatre he +went up into the boxes.</p> + +<p class="normal">At first his eyes were bedazzled by the glitter of lights and jewels +and the motley throng which paraded the floor. There was the usual +medley of Chinese, Turks, and friars; here was a gentleman above six +feet high dressed like a child in a white frock and leading strings +and attended by another of very low stature, who fed him from time to +time with a papspoon; there was a soldier prancing a minuet upon a +hobby horse to the infinite discomfort of his neighbours; and as for +the women--it seemed to Mr. Kelly that all the goddesses of the +heathen mythology had come down from Olympia in their customary +négligé.</p> + +<p class="normal">Among them moved M. de Strasbourg like a black shadow, very +distinguishable. Kelly kept his eyes in the man's neighbourhood, and +in a little perceived a masked lady with her hair dressed in the Greek +fashion. What character she was intended to represent he could not for +the life of him determine. He learnt subsequently that she went as +Iphigeneia--Iphigeneia, if you please, in a blue satin petticoat. To +be sure her bosom was bared for the sacrifice, but then all the ladies +in that assembly were in the like case. She had joined a party of +friends, of whom M. de Strasbourg was not one. For though he kept her +ever within his sight, following her hither and thither, it was always +at a distance; and, so far as Kelly could see, and he did not take his +eyes from the pair, he never spoke to her so much as a single word. On +the contrary he seemed rather to lurk behind and avoid her notice. +Kelly's curiosity was the more provoked by this stealthy pursuit. He +lost his sense of uneasiness in a wonder what the man designed against +the woman. He determined to wait the upshot of the affair.</p> + +<p class="normal">The night wore away, the masqueraders thinned. The inch of blue satin +petticoat took her departure from the parterre. M. de Strasbourg +followed her; Mr. Kelly followed M. de Strasbourg.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lobby was crowded. Kelly threaded his way through the crowd and +came out upon the steps. He saw the lady, close wrapped again in her +velvet cloak, descend to her carriage. The coachman gathered up his +reins and took his whip from its rest. The movement chanced to attract +Kelly's eyes. He looked at the coachman, at the first glance +indifferently, at the second with all his attention. For this was not +the same man who had driven the carriage to the masquerade. And then +the coachman turned his full face towards Kelly and nodded. He nodded +straight towards him. But was the nod meant for him? No! Well, then, +for someone just behind his shoulder.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly did not turn, but stepped quietly aside and saw M. de Strasbourg +slip past him down the steps. So the nod was meant for him. M. de +Strasbourg was still masked, but he had thrown a cloak about his +shoulders which in some measure disguised his dress. The mystery +seemed clear to Kelly; the lady was to be forcibly abducted unless +someone, say Mr. James Johnson, had a word to say upon the matter. The +carriage turned and drove slowly through the press of chairs and +shouting link-boys; M. de Strasbourg on the side-walk kept pace with +the carriage. Kelly immediately crossed the road, and, concealed by +the carriage, kept pace with M. de Strasbourg. Thus they went as far +as the corner of the Haymarket, and then turned into Pall Mall.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this point Kelly, to be the more ready should the lady need his +assistance, stepped off the pavement and walked in the mud hard by the +hind wheels of the carriage. It was now close upon four of the +morning, but, fortunately, very dark, and only a sullen sort of +twilight about the south-eastern fringes of the sky.</p> + +<p class="normal">In Pall Mall the carriages were fewer, but the coachman did not +quicken his pace, doubtless out of regard for M. de Strasbourg, and at +the corner of Pall Mall, where the road was quite empty, he jerked the +horses to a standstill. Instantly M. de Strasbourg ran across the road +to the carriage, the coachman bent over on that side to watch, and Mr. +Kelly, on the other side, ran forward to the box. M. de Strasbourg +wrenched open the door and jumped into the carriage. Mr. Kelly heard a +woman's scream and sprang on to the box. The coachman turned with a +start. Before he could shout, before he could speak, Kelly showed him +a pistol (for he went armed) under the man's nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One word,' said Kelly, 'and I will break your ugly face in with the +stock of that, my friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman screamed again; M. de Strasbourg thrust his head out of the +window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Go on,' he shouted with an oath, 'you know where. At a gallop! Kill +the horses, they are not mine! Flog 'em to death so you go but fast +enough.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To the right,' said Kelly, quietly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man whipped up the horses. They started at a gallop up St. James's +Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To the right,' again whispered Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The carriage turned into Ryder Street, rocking on its wheels. M. de +Strasbourg's head was again thrust from the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's not the way. Are you drunk, man?--are you drunk?' he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To the left,' says Kelly, imperturbably, and fingered the lock of the +pistol a little.</p> + +<p class="normal">The carriage swung into Bury Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stop,' said Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The coachman reined in his horses; the carriage stopped with a jerk.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Where in the devil's name have you taken us?' cried M. de Strasbourg, +opening the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly sprang to the ground, ran round the carriage to the open door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To the Marchand de dentelles, M. de Strasbourg,' said he with a bow. +'I have some most elegant pieces of <i>point d'Alençon</i> for the lady's +inspection.'</p> + +<p class="normal">M. de Strasbourg was utterly dumbfounded. He staggered back against +the panels of the carriage; his mouth opened and shut; it seemed there +was no language sufficiently chaotic to express his discomposure. At +last:</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are a damned impudent fellow,' he gasped out in a weak sort of +quaver.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Am I?' asked Kelly. 'Shall we ask the lady?'</p> + +<p class="normal">He peeped through the door. The lady was huddled up in a corner--an +odd heap of laces, silks, and furbelows, but with never a voice in all +the confusion. It seemed she had fainted.</p> + +<p class="normal">Meanwhile M. de Strasbourg turned on the unfortunate coachman.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Get down, you rascal,' he cried; 'you have been bribed, you're in the +fellow's pay. Get down! Not a farthing will you get from me, but only +a thrashing that will make your bones ache this month to come.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your honour,' replied the coachman piteously, 'it was not my fault. +He offered to kill me unless I drove you here.'</p> + +<p class="normal">M. de Strasbourg in a rage flung back to Kelly. He clapped a hand on +his shoulder and plucked him from the carriage door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So you offered to kill him, did you?' he said. 'Perhaps you will make +a like offer to me. But I'll not wait for the offer.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He unclasped his cloak, drew his sword (happily not his axe) and +delivered his thrust with that rapidity it seemed all one motion. Mr. +Kelly jumped on one side, and the sword just gleamed against his +sleeve. M. de Strasbourg overbalanced himself and stumbled a foot or +two forwards. Kelly had whipped out his sword by the time that M. de +Strasbourg had recovered, and a battle began which was whimsical +enough. A quiet narrow street, misty with the grey morning, the +carriage lamps throwing here a doubtful shadow, a masked headsman +leaping, swearing, thrusting in an extreme passion, and, to crown the +business, the coachman lamenting on the box that whichever honourable +gentleman was killed he would most surely go wanting his hire, he that +had a woeful starving family! Mr. Kelly, indeed, felt the strongest +inclination to laugh, but dared not, so hotly was he pressed. The +attack, however, he did not return, but contented himself with +parrying the thrusts. His design, indeed, reached at no more than the +mere disarming of M. de Strasbourg. M. de Strasbourg, however, lost +even his last remnants of patience.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Rascal!' he cried. 'Scullion! Grasshopper!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he threw his hat at Kelly and missed, and at last flung his +periwig full in Kelly's face, accompanying the present with a thrust +home which his opponent barely parried.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was this particular action which brought the contest to a grotesque +conclusion quite in keeping with its beginnings. For the periwig +tumbled in the mud, and the coachman, assured that he would get no +stiver of his hire, scrambled down from his box, rushed at a prize of +so many pounds in value, picked it up and took to his heels.</p> + +<p class="normal">M. de Strasbourg uttered a cry and leaped backwards out of reach.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stop!' he bawled to the coachman. The coachman only ran the quicker. +M. de Strasbourg passed his hand over his shaven crown and looked at +the carriage. It was quite impossible to abduct a lady without a +periwig to his head. He swore, he stamped, he shouted 'Stop!' once +more, and then dashed at full speed past Kelly in pursuit.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly made no effort to prevent him, but gave way to his inclination +and laughed. The coachman threw a startled glance over his shoulder +and, seeing that M. de Strasbourg pressed after him, quickened his +pace; behind him rushed a baldheaded executioner hurling imprecations. +The pair fled, one after the other, to the top of Bury Street, turned +the corner and disappeared. Kelly laughed till the tears ran down his +cheeks, and leaned against the carriage.</p> + +<p class="normal">The touch of the panels recalled him to the lady's presence. The +street was now fairly roused by the clamour. Night-capped heads peeped +from the windows; an indignant burgher in a dressing-gown even +threatened Mr. Kelly with a blunderbuss; and, as he turned to the door +of the carriage, he saw Mrs. Barnes at a window on the second floor +looking at him with an air of the gravest discontent.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Take me into shelter, good sir, at once, at once,' cried the lady +from out the confusion of her laces, in a feigned tone of the +masquerade.</p> + +<p class="normal">'With all my heart, madam,' said Kelly. 'This is my door, and my +lodging is at your disposal. Only the street is fairly awake, and +should you prefer, I will most readily drive you to your own house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady looked out of the window. She was still masked so that Kelly +could see nothing of her face, and she hesitated for a little, as if +in doubt what answer she should make.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You may make yourself at ease, madam,' said Kelly, believing that she +was not yet relieved of fear; 'you are in perfect safety. Our worthy +friend had to choose between your ladyship and his periwig, of which +he has gone in chase. And, indeed, while I deplore his taste, I cannot +but commend his discretion.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very well,' she replied faintly. 'I owe you great thanks already, +Mr.--' she paused.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Johnson,' said Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson,' she replied; 'and I shall owe you yet more if you will +drive me to my home.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave him the address of a house in Queen's Square, Westminster. +Kelly mounted on the box, took up the reins, and drove off. He looked +up, as he turned the carriage in the narrow street, towards the second +floor of his lodging. Mrs. Barnes shook her head at him in a terrible +concern.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall write and tell Mr. Wogan,' she bawled out.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Hush, Mrs. Barnes, have you no sense?' cried Kelly, and he thought +that from within the carriage he heard a stifled peal of laughter. +'Poor woman,' thought he, ''tis the hysterics,' and he drove to +Queen's Square, Westminster, at a gallop.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">WHEREIN THE CHIVALROUS MR. KELLY BEHAVES +WITH DEPLORABLE FOLLY</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly did not drive very straight perhaps, but to be sure he had +the streets entirely to himself, and he certainly hit upon Queen's +Square. The house was unknown to him, and he drove through the square +before he found it.</p> + +<p class="normal">It made an angle at the south corner, and was conspicuous for a solid +family air, and a fine new statue of Queen Anne. Level windows of a +distinguished respectability looked you over with indifference and +said, 'Here's a house you'll take off your hat to, if you please.' +'Faith, but those windows must have shuddered in their sashes when +they saw the Parson driving Madam home at five o'clock of the morning +from a masquerade ball. A sleepy footman opened the door; a no less +sleepy maid yawned in the hall. However, they both waked up to some +purpose when Mr. Kelly jumped down from the box, bade the footman take +the carriage round to the stables, called the maid to attend upon +Madam, and himself opened the carriage door. He opened it quickly with +a thought that Madam might very likely have removed her mask, for he +was not so tipsy but that he was curious to know who it was that he +had befriended. Madam, however, had done nothing of the kind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is my lady ill?' asked the maid, hurrying forward. So Madam was a +woman of title.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A trifle discomposed, no doubt,' answered Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">My lady said nothing whatever. It seemed she was unwilling to speak in +the feigned voice before her maid, and in the natural voice before Mr. +Kelly. She took his arm, and, leaning on it somewhat heavily, yet +walked with a firm enough step into the hall, as Mr. Kelly could not +but remark.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid threw open a door on the right. It gave into a little cheery +room with a wainscot of polished oak, and a fire blazing on the +hearth. My lady did not release Mr. Kelly's arm, and they both stood +in front of the fire, and no doubt found the warmth comfortable enough +after the chill of the morning. Her ladyship, indeed, went so far as +to untie the strings of her domino, and make as though she would turn +it back upon her shoulders. But with a glance at Mr. Kelly, she +changed her mind, and hugged it somewhat closer over her dress than +before.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Were you at the masquerade, Mr. Johnson?' she asked in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly took the movement and the words together, and set them down +as mere coquetry. Now, coquetry to Kelly at that time was a challenge, +and it was contrary to his principles of honour to remain under such a +provocation from man or woman. So he answered:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed, your ladyship, I was, to my eternal happiness. I shall dream +of blue satin for a month to come.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship hitched her domino a little tighter still about her neck, +and quickly tied the strings again, but made no other reply to his +sally. The action, while it inflamed his curiosity, put him into +something of a quandary. Was it but another piece of coquetry, he +asked himself, or did she indeed wish to hinder him from discovering +who she was? He could answer neither question, but he felt +constrained, at all events, to offer to take her concealment as a hint +that he should depart. It seemed a pity, for the adventure promised +well.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship,' he said, and at that she gave a start and glanced at +him, 'for so I understand from your maid I may address you,' he added, +'it grows late, the world is getting on to its legs, and your ladyship +has had an eventful night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He took a step backwards and bowed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said she, in a sharp quick voice, and put out a hand to detain +him. Then she stopped as quickly, and drew in her hand again.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly had borne himself very prettily in the little affair with M. +de Strasbourg. Madam, in fact, was in the typical attitude of woman. +She knew it was inconvenient to keep him, but for the life of her she +could not let him go, wherefore she found a woman's way out of the +trouble. For she staggered on her legs, and fainted to all appearance +clean away, leaving matters to take their own course and shift for +themselves. She fainted, of course, towards Mr. Kelly, who caught her +in his arms and set her in an arm-chair. The maid, who all this while +had been standing in the doorway, smiled. 'I will run to her +ladyship's dressing-room for the salts,' she said, and so went out of +the room, carefully closing the door behind her. Kelly kneeled by the +lady's side, and taking up her fan, sought to waft her that way back +into the world. She did not stir so much as a muscle, but lay all +huddled up in her domino and mask. Mr. Kelly leaned over her, and so +became aware of a penetrating perfume which breathed out from her +dress. The perfume was bergamot.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly dropped the fan and sat back on his heel. The maid had called +her 'my lady,' and bergamot was Lady Oxford's favourite perfume. What +if it was Lady Oxford he had unwittingly rescued! The possibility +caught his breath away. If that were only true, he thought, why, he +had done her some slight service, and straightway a great rush of +tenderness came upon him, which went some way to sober him. In a +minute, however, he dropped into despondency; for Lord Oxford's house +was in the northern part of the town, as he knew, though he had never +as yet been there, and neither the footman nor the maid were of her +ladyship's household. Yet, if by some miracle the lady might be +Smilinda! She was of the right height. Mr. Kelly looked at her, +seeking vainly to trace out the form hidden under the folds of the +domino. But if it were Smilinda, then Smilinda had swooned.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly woke to this conclusion with a start of alarm. He clapped +his hand into his pocket, pulled out his snuff-box, opened it quickly, +and held it close beneath her ladyship's nose. The effect of the snuff +was purely magical, for before she could have inhaled one grain of +it--before, indeed, Mr. Kelly's box was within a foot of her face, up +went her hands to the tie-strings of her mask.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the swoon was counterfeit.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' said Kelly, 'you interpret my desires to a nicety. It is your +face I would see, but I did not dream of removing your mask. I did but +offer to revive you with a pinch of snuff.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She took the box from his hand, but not to inhale the macawba.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is for your own sake, Mr. Johnson, that I do not unmask. 'Tis like +that I am a fright, and did you see my face you would take me for a +pale ghost.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' said Kelly, 'I am not afraid of ghosts, nor apt to take your +ladyship for one of those same airy appearances. A ghost! No,' he +cried, surveying her. 'An angel! It is only the angels in Heaven that +wear blue satin petticoats.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady laughed, and checked the laugh, aware that a laugh betrays +where a voice does not.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ghost or angel,' she said,' a being of my sex would fain see herself +before she is seen. 'Tis a mirror I seek.' She was still holding Mr. +Kelly's snuff-box. It was open and within the lid a little +looking-glass was set; and as she spoke she turned away and bent over +it with a motion as if she was about to lift her mask.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay,' said Kelly abruptly; he stretched out his hand towards the +snuff-box. 'The glass will be unfaithful, for the snuff has tarnished +it. Madam, I beseech you, unloose that mask and turn your face to me +and consult a truer mirror, your servant's eyes.' He spoke, perhaps, +with a trifle more of agitation than the occasion seemed to warrant. +Madam did indeed turn her face to Mr. Kelly, but it was in surprise at +his agitation, and the mask still hid her face. Mr. Kelly could see no +more than a pair of eyes blazing bright and black through the eyelet +holes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are gallant, I find, as well as brave,' she said, 'unless some +other cause prompted the words.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What cause, madam? You wrong me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why,' said she, 'you still hold out your hand.' Mr. Kelly drew it +away quickly. 'Ah,' she continued, 'I am right. There was a reason. +You would not have me examine your snuff-box too closely.'</p> + +<p class="normal">In that she was right, for the snuff-box was at once the dearest and +the most dangerous of Mr. Kelly's possessions. It was a pretty toy in +gold and tortoiseshell, with brilliants on the hinges, and had been +given to Mr. Kelly on a certain occasion when he had been presented to +his king at Avignon. For that reason, and for another, he was mightily +loth to let it out of his possession. What that other reason was Madam +very soon discovered.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a dangerous toy,' she said. 'It has perhaps a secret to tell?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam, has not your mask?' returned Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is a mystery behind the mirror.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, then, it's mystery for mystery.'</p> + +<p class="normal">For all that he spoke lightly he was in some uneasiness. For the lady +might not be Smilinda, and her fingers played deftly about the setting +of the mirror, touching a stone here and there. To be sure she wore +gloves, and was the less likely therefore to touch the spring. But +give her time enough--however, at that moment Kelly heard the maid's +footsteps in the hall. He stepped to the door at once and opened it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have the salts?' he asked. 'You have been the deuce of a time +finding them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid stared at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But her ladyship fainted,' she argued.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' said he, 'wasn't that why you went for the salts?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' says she. ''Twas an order to go for the salts.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She pushed open the door. My lady was still fingering the box. The +maid paid no attention to the box, but she looked at my lady's mask; +from the mask she looked towards Kelly with a shrug of the shoulders, +which said 'Zany' as plain as writing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly had no thoughts to spare for the maid.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' he said, 'here is your maid, to whose attentions I may leave +you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He advanced, made a bow, took up his hat, held out his hand for his +snuff-box.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But I cannot let you go,' she answered, 'without I thank you'--all +the time she was running her fingers here and there for the spring. +Kelly noticed, too, with some anxiety, that while he had gone to the +door she had made use of the occasion to strip off her glove--'and +thank you fitly, as I should have done ere this. But the trouble I was +in has made me backward.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, madam,' said Kelly impatiently, and taking a step nearer, 'there +is no need for thanks. No man could have done less.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship's fingers travelled faster in their vain attempt.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But you risked your life!' said she in admiration.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is worth very little,' said he with a touch of disdain; 'and, +madam, I keep you from your bed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid turned her eyes up to the ceiling, and then Madam by chance +pressed on a diamond which loosed a hidden spring; the glass in the +snuff-box flew down and showed a painting of the Chevalier in +miniature.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh!' cried my lady with a start in which, perhaps, there was a trace +of affectation. Then she turned to the maid and bade her bring some +wine and glasses. She spoke quickly, now forgetting for the moment to +disguise her voice. Mr. Kelly recognized it with absolute certainty. +The voice was Smilinda's.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid went out of the door. Kelly looked at the lady, and seeing +that she was seemingly engrossed in the contemplation of the little +picture, stole after the maid.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Betty!' he called in a whisper.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir? 'she asked, coming to a stop.</p> + +<p class="normal">He took a crown from his pocket, spun it in the air, and caught it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Margout,' said he, 'will doubtless be more difficult to discover +than the salts,' he suggested.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It might indeed be necessary to go down to the cellar,' she replied +readily.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And that would take time,' said Kelly, handing her the crown.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would take an entire crown's worth,' said the maid, pocketing the +coin.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly slipped back into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady seemed not to have noticed Mr. Kelly's absence, so fondly did +she study the portrait; but none the less, no sooner had he closed the +door than she cried out, not by any means to him but in a sort of +ecstasy, '<i>Le Roi!</i>' Then she hid the snuff-box suddenly and glanced +with a shudder round the room. The panic was altogether misplaced, +since there could be no other person in the room except the owner of +the box, who, if her ladyship was guilty for admiring, was ten +thousand times more so for possessing it.</p> + +<p class="normal">She caught with her hand at her heart when she perceived Mr. Kelly, +then her eyes smiled from out of her mask, as though in the extremity +of her alarm she had forgotten who he was, and so fell back in her +chair with an air of languor, breathing deep and quick.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Upon my word, I fear, Mr. Johnson,' she said, 'that if I have escaped +one danger by your help I have fallen into another. You seem to me to +be a man of dangerous company.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed I find it so when I am with you, madam, since you discover my +secrets and show me nothing of your own,' replied Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid it appears, had no less perversity than her mistress, for +precisely at this moment she rapped on the door, and without waiting +for any answer sharply entered the room, bearing the wine and glasses +on a salver. There was a distance of three yards between Kelly and her +ladyship. The maid measured the distance with her eyes, and her face +showed some disappointment. Her ladyship dismissed her, filled both +the glasses and took one in her hand. Mr. Kelly drained the other, and +the bumper carried off the remnant of his brains.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You run no danger from my knowing your secret, Mr. Johnson,' said +she, 'for--'</p> + +<p class="normal">Breaking off her sentence, she turned her head aside, swiftly pushed +up her mask and kissed the portrait in the box, stooping her fragrant +hair over it. Mr. Kelly, speeded by the wine, was this time too quick +for her ladyship. Before she could raise her face he had paid the same +compliment to her lips as she to his Majesty. She lifted her head with +a bewitching air of anger.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Oxford!' he cried out as if in amazement, since he had bottomed +the mystery for now some time. 'Forgive me, madam, if my hasty loyalty +to my Sovereign prevented me from recognising his latest adherent. The +Cause must now infallibly triumph.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir,' she began, looking up at him with her eyes melting from anger +to reproach, 'your apology is something graceless. For though my +colour be gone'--it was only the worse or artificial part of her +matchless complexion which the mask had rubbed off--'you yet had time +to know and respect a face you--'and then she came suddenly to a stop, +as she untied the strings of her domino and threw it back from her +shoulders. 'You blame me,' she said pitifully. Her ladyship was a +ready woman, and even went more than half-way to meet an attack. At +Brampton Bryan the talk had been of duty and the charms of a rustic +life; but here the dutiful country wife, violently disarrayed in the +extreme of fashion, had been alone to a masquerade ball and Mr. Kelly +might conceive himself tricked. And so 'You blame me,' she said, 'you +blame me even as you blamed me at Brampton Bryan, and with no more +justice.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'At Brampton Bryan!' exclaimed Kelly suddenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'M. de Strasbourg! M. de Strasbourg was Scrope.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And 'twas he attacked <i>you</i>--would have carried you off.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship shivered.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And I let him go. Curse me! I let him go even as Nick did. But the +third time! Oh, only let the third time come.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship shook her head with the most weariful resignation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will come too late, that third time,' she said; 'too late for me. +I have no husband who can protect me, and no friend so kind as to +serve me in his place.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, madam,' cried Kelly, instantly softened by the lonely picture +which her words called up in his mind. She was transfigured all at +once into Una, Andromeda, Ariadne, or any other young woman of great +beauty and virtue who has ever been left desolate to face a wintry +world. 'Believe me, you have one friend whose only aspiration is to +serve you with his life-blood. 'Faith, madam, had you but shown me +your face when first I came to the door of your carriage, I would +never have let M. de Strasbourg run away until I had offered you his +smoking heart on the point of my sword.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship gave the Parson to understand that she had gone to the +ball on the King's service. Had his brain been of its customary +sobriety the adventure would doubtless have surprised him more than it +did. He might have questioned the nature of the service which took her +ladyship to the masquerade. But she had sufficient art to tell him +nothing and persuade him that she told all. Moreover, he had other +matters to engage him.</p> + +<p class="normal">There is no need to extend more particularly the old story of a young +man's folly with a woman of Lady Oxford's kind. She had sought to hide +who she was, she said, because she dared not trust herself; and the +fact that she was not living in her own house, which was being +repaired, but in one that she had borrowed, with the servants, from a +friend who had gone to the Bath, seemed to make her intention +possible. But Heaven had been against her. Mr. Kelly was readily +beguiled into the sincere opinion that she had fought against her +passion, but that her weakness and his transcendent bravery, of which +she would by no means allow him to make light, had proved her ruin. It +was all in a word set down to gratitude, which was a great virtue, she +suggested. Love, indeed, was just the charge of powder which would +have never flashed--no never--had not gratitude served as a flint and +thrown off the spark.</p> + +<p class="normal">Well, Mr. Kelly walked home in the dawning of a new day and painted +his thoughts with the colours of the sky. For weeks thereafter he +seemed in his folly to tread on air; and no doubt he had more than +ordinary warrant for his folly. He had a fortune safely lodged with +Mr. Child, the goldsmith; his mistress was no less fair than she +showed fond; and so fond she was that she could not bring herself to +chide the coachman who was discovered the next morning drunk with +drugged wine at a tavern near the Haymarket, whither one of Scrope's +hirelings had lured him. Mr. Kelly was prosperous in the three great +games of life, love, and politics. For he was wholly trusted by the +Bishop, by Lord Oxford and the rest; he took his place in the world +and went and came from France with hanging matter in his valise. The +valise weighed all the lighter for the thought that he was now serving +Lady Oxford as well as the King. She was at this time always in his +dreams. His passion indeed was in these days extreme, a devouring fire +in brain and marrow. He believed her a most loyal conspirator, and, of +course, all that he knew came to her ladyship's ears. But his bliss in +the affection of Lady Oxford quite blinded him to danger, and he +seemed to himself to walk invisible, as though he had the secret of +fernseed.</p> + +<p class="normal">For a season, then, Mr. Kelly was the happy fool, and if the season +was short--why, is it ever long? Mr. Wogan is not indeed sure that the +Parson has got altogether out of her ladyship's debt, in spite of what +happened afterwards. For when the real morning broke and the true love +came to him, troubles followed apace upon its coming. It is something +to have been a happy fool, if only for a season and though the +happiness ended with the folly.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">WHAT CAME OF MR. KELLY'S WINNINGS FROM THE +SOUTH SEA</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Luck is a chameleon, and in November of that same year 1720, thought +fit to change its complexion. The date, to be precise, was the 17th of +the month. Mr. Wogan can determine on the particular day, for the +reason that Mrs. Barnes carried out her threat, and sent him a +laborious long letter concerning the Parson's moral iniquities. The +letter reached Mr. Wogan in October, who was then cleaning his ship at +Morlaix in Brittany, and what with his fifteen months of purposeless +cruises, felt himself as encrusted with idleness as his ship's bottom +with barnacles. It was just this eternal inactivity which no doubt +induced him to take the serious view of Mrs. Barnes's epistle. 'It is +a most cruel affair,' said he to Mr. Talbot, who was with him, 'and of +the last importance that I should hurry to London and set it +straight.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But you are fixed here,' said the Crow, for so Talbot was commonly +called from the blackness of his complexion. 'Can I undertake the +business for you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' says Nick, shaking his head very solemn; though maybe his eye +twinkled. Mr. Wogan forgets what point the plot was at then, for since +the black year, 1688, there had been but one plot, though it had +changed and shifted shape like the faces you see in the dark before +you sleep. But he could not hear that anything immediate was intended; +and it would be, therefore, the most convenient occasion to refit his +ketch <i>Fortune</i>. He gave orders to that effect, travelled to Paris, +obtained from General Dillon a month's leave to dispose of his own +affairs, and went whistling to London like a schoolboy off on his +holidays. For, to tell the truth, he was not greatly concerned at +George Kelly's backslidings, but on the contrary was inclined to +chuckle over them, and trusted completely to his friend's discretion.</p> + +<p class="normal">He arrived in London on November 20, and drove boldly to Kelly's +lodging in Bury Street. For the Glenshiel affair had completely blown +over--there had never been more than a rumour that he was there--and +as for the Fifteen, why Mr. Wogan had his pardon like the rest. That +he got for his behaviour to Captain Montagu at Preston; moreover, who +could know the boy Wogan that ran away from Westminster School, and +his task of copying Lord Clarendon's history, in Mr. Hilton, the man +of six feet four in his stockings. He found Kelly's lodgings empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A letter came for him three days ago,' explained Mrs. Barnes, 'and he +set off almost on the instant in an agitation so great that he did not +wait to pack his valise, but had it sent after him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Where to?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I do not know,' replied Mrs. Barnes with a sniff of the nose and a +toss of the head, 'and no doubt I am a better woman for not knowing.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No doubt, replied Wogan gravely. 'But, Mrs. Barnes, who signed the +letter? Where did it come from?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And how should I know that?' she cried. 'Would I demean myself by +reading the letters of a nasty trull? For she's no better for all her +birth, and that's not so high neither.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' says Wogan, 'I see you don't know who signed the letter.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And that's truth,' said she, 'but I saw the superscription. As for +the letter, he hid it in his bosom.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, that's as good as showing the signature. Who carried his valise +after him?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Francis Vanlear,' she said, 'the porter who plyed in St. James's +Street and Piccadilly and lodged at the Crown ale-house in Germain +Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Thither Wogan sent for him, and when he was come asked him whither he +had carried the valise.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To Mr. Gunning's at Mussell Hill,' Vanlear answered, where he had +found a horse ready saddled at the door and 'Mr. Johnson' in a great +fume to be off.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan gave the porter a crown for his trouble and went forthwith to +Mr. Gunning's, whom he had not seen since the occasion of his coming +down from Glenshiel. From Mr. Gunning he learned that Kelly had +undoubtedly taken the Aberystwith road, since he had left the horse he +borrowed at Beaconsfield, and thither had Mr. Gunning sent to fetch +it. Kelly's destination was consequently as clear to Wogan as the +urgency of his haste, and coming back into London he dropped in at the +Cocoa Tree, where he found the story of Lady Oxford and Mr. Kelly a +familiar pleasantry.</p> + +<p class="normal">He heard of it again that night at Will's coffeehouse in Covent +Garden, and at Burton's in King Street, where Mr. Kelly was very well +known. For, besides being close to Kelly's lodging, it was one of the +houses to which his letters were directed under cover. From Burton's +Wogan came back to Bury Street, and, while smoking a pipe in the +parlour before going to bed, he chanced to notice his strongbox. It +stood on the scrutoire by the side of Mr. Kelly's big Bible, where +Wogan had left it eighteen months before. It was the brother to Mr. +Kelly's strong-box, in every particular but one, and that one a +stouter lock. Wogan remembered that when he had placed the box on the +scrutoire the key was attached to it by a string. Now, however, he +noticed that the key was gone. He was sufficiently curious to cross +the room and try the lock. But the box would not open; it was securely +locked. There were papers too within it, as he found out by shaking +it. Kelly, then, was using the box--but for what purpose? His own box +served for his few political papers. Any other papers that needed the +shelter of a strong box must be love-letters. Here, then, were +amorous, not political epistles. Besides, he was in the habit of +burning all those which had done their work, and the rest which he +needed he carried about in his own dispatch-box.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now, I wonder,' said Wogan, tapping the lid, 'I wonder whether a +certain letter, signed--shall we say Smilinda?--and summoning my +friend to Brampton Bryan, is locked up inside you.' Wogan's guess hit +the truth even to the signature, though he was destined to get little +satisfaction from this proof of his sagacity. The letter, he later +learned, lay in box with not a few others in the same handwriting, and +they all ended in the same manner with a request: 'Burn this.' Mr. +Kelly would have been honester had he obeyed it, but, like many a man +when passion gets hold of him, he could not part with them. Faint +whispers breathed, as it seemed, from Heaven, and caught and written +loud in my lady's hand, pure diamonds fetched up from the obscure +mines of a woman's heart, sure he treasured them up beyond all jewels, +and locked them up in Mr. Wogan's despatch-box to his own undoing.</p> + +<p class="normal">This letter was, (Wogan learned afterwards) the most laconic of them +all, and it was the most momentous. It began, 'My own Strephon,' and +then Strephon was crossed out and again written on the top, and it was +signed 'Smilinda' in a doubtful hand; as though, at first, Brampton +Bryan had recalled to her ladyship the beginning of their affections +with so overpowering a compulsion that she must needs use the names +which were associated with it, and then the dear woman's modesty +timidly crossed them out, and in the end love got the upper hand and +wrote them in again. At least that was a small portion of all the +great meanings which Kelly read in the hesitation of her ladyship's +address. Between the Strephon and the Smilinda there was but one +line--'Come; there is a secret. I have great need of you.' But this +had been quite enough to send Mr. Kelly spurring out into the November +night with such speed that he came to Oxford the next day, where he +found the snow lying very deep. The snow troubled him, no doubt, +because it delayed him, but he took little account of the cold beyond +a sharp pang or two lest Smilinda might have caught a chilblain. For +himself--well, Smilinda had need of him--the great lady turned for +help to the Irish outlaw. Wasn't it always so? Her Majesty throws her +glove to the page, my lord the King Cophetua goes clean daft for a +beggar wench, and the obliging Cupid builds a rickety bridge whereby +the despairing lovers leap into each other's arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">Smilinda needed him! There was a tune ravished from Heaven! His whole +frame moved to it as the waves to the direction of the moon. It sang +in his blood, his heart beat to it, the hooves of his horse drummed it +out on the road. Even the boughs of the trees whispered the words with +a tender secrecy to the wind, much as the reeds whispered that other +saying, ages ago, which the Queen in the fable had entrusted to them. +And, 'faith, when you come to think of it, there was little difference +in meaning between the two remarks. Smilinda needed Mr. Kelly! It was, +after all, as much as to say 'Mr. Kelly has ass's ears.' He made such +haste that on the evening of the second day after his departure from +London he cantered up the drive of the Manor House.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford met him in the hall, and Mr. Kelly's heart gave a great +jump of pride when he saw her stately figure all softened to an +attitude of expectation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I knew you would come,' she said; and, as Mr. Kelly bent over her +hand, she whispered, 'My Strephon,' for all the world as if her +emotion choked her. Then she raised her voice for the servants to +hear: 'My lord is from home, Mr. Johnson, but he has commissioned me +at once to pay you his regrets and to act as his deputy in your +business.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was all impatience to broach his business, but her +ladyship's solicitude would not allow him to speak until he had +supped. She came near to waiting upon him herself, and certainly plied +him with her best wine, vowing that it was ill weather for travellers, +and that if he kept his glass full beside his elbow it was a sure sign +he hated her. This, of course, after the servants had been dismissed. +Mr. Kelly chided her for the thought, and, with a shake of the finger, +quoted her a text: 'We are bidden not to look upon the wine when it is +red,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And a very good text, too,' says she; 'so, if you please, shut your +eyes and drink it,' and, coming behind him, she laid her cool hand +upon his eyes and forehead. So Mr. Kelly drank, and the bumper floated +his wits into my lady's haven.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now,' says my lady; and, leading the way into her boudoir, she sat +herself down before the fire, and, clasping her hands at the back of +her head, smiled at Mr. Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Strephon,' she murmured on a lilt of her voice, and with all the +provocation that witchery could devise. Mr. Kelly was on his knees at +her side in a moment. She laid a white hand upon his breast, and, +gently holding him off:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Tell me,' says she, 'why I sent for you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Because my Smilinda needed me,' he answered with a laugh of pride. +Her hand caressed his shoulder. She nodded, bit her under lip and +smiled very wisely.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is the service Strephon can do?' cried Kelly. 'Is it to lift the +world? Give me but your love and I'll accomplish that.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Smilinda clapped her hands with delight, like a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is nothing so important,' said she. 'It is not in truth any +service you can do for me, but rather one that I can do for you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly's face lost all its light, and dropped to the glummest +disappointment. He had so nursed that aspiration of doing her some +great service. Through the night, through the day, it had borne him +company. Some great service--that was to be the bridge of Cupid's +building whereby they were to stand firm-footed on equal ground. And +now it was some service Lady Oxford was to do for him. Lady Oxford +noticed the change; it may have been to read the thought which it +expressed, and that the thought touched her to unwonted depths. For +the smile faded from her lips, her eyes became grave, thoughtful, +there was a certain suspense in her attitude.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Must the woman always owe, the man always pay?' she asked, but in a +broken way, and with almost a repugnance for herself. Indeed, she +barely finished the question, and then, with an abrupt laugh, crossed +to the window, drew aside the curtains, and gazed out upon the +darkness and the glimmering snow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A strange, cold world,' she said in an absent voice, 'with a strange +white carpet.' Mr. Kelly in truth had given her a glimpse into a world +yet stranger to her ladyship than that which her eyes beheld--a world +that had an odd white carpet too, though the feet of those who paced +it as often as not were stained--a world of generous impulses and +unselfish devotions. Into this world Lady Oxford was peering with an +uneasy curiosity. Perhaps for a moment she compared it with her own; +perhaps she was caught by it and admired it; but, if so, it was with a +great deal of discomfort. For she dropped the curtain petulantly +across the window, and, coming back to the fire--well, what she would +have said it is impossible to guess, for a gentle tap on the door was +followed by a servant's entrance into the room. He carried a letter on +a salver, and, advancing to Lady Oxford, offered it to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, Mr. Kelly was standing almost at the centre of the mantelpiece, +Lady Oxford at one end; and they faced one another. So the man +inevitably stopped between them, and, when he lifted up the salver, it +was impossible but that the Parson should observe the superscription. +He recognised the handwriting of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Lady +Oxford recognised it too, for she flushed as she picked the letter up. +But she flushed deeper as she read it through, and then crumpled it up +and flung it into the fire with an anger which showed very clearly she +would have done the like for Lady Mary were the writer instead of her +letter within reach of her vindictive fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A strange, incomprehensible creature is Lady Mary Wortley Montagu,' +said Lady Oxford with a laugh and a glance at Mr. Kelly. 'The most +whimsical contradiction. She offers you a kindness with one hand and +slaps you in the face with the other. For instance, this letter here. +'Twas written out of pure kindness. It completes the friendliest +service, yet it ends with so rough a jest that but for Strephon's sake +I should be much drawn to reject the service.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'For my sake? 'asked Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, to be sure. Lady Mary gave me a piece of news a week ago in +town. It was that news which made me send for you, and she writes now +expressly to confirm it. But, let my Strephon answer me,' and she +asked whether he had yet sent his winnings from the Mississippi to be +used for the King's service.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, Mr. Kelly was, after all, a human being. It was all very well in +the first flush of prosperity to propose to scatter his few thousands, +but afterwards he had come to see that they would not go so very far. +Besides, he had now obvious reasons for desiring to cut as agreeable a +figure as he could. At all events the money still remained with Mr. +Child, the goldsmith, and so he told her ladyship, with a little +remorse.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then,' she cried in joy,' that chance has come for which Smilinda has +been longing. My presents, Strephon, you have always refused,' which +was true enough; indeed, on the other hand, she had Mr. Kelly's royal +snuff-box and a few of his jewels. 'But now I can make your fortune, +and with yours my own. There's the sweetness of it,' she said, and +clasped her hands on her heart. 'Your fortune, too!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My fortune you have made already,' said he, with other compliments +proper to the occasion. But her ladyship was in a practical mood.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Listen,' says she. 'I am made acquainted that the tide has turned. I +mean, you know, in the Straits of Magellan. The South-Sea stock that +has been falling so long will certainly rise in a week; the Elector is +buying secretly. Lady Mary has it from Mr. Pope, and he at the first +and best hands from Mr. Craggs, the secretary. Mr. Craggs will insert +my name in the next list and your money I shall send to the directors +with my own. You shall be rich, Strephon, on the level of your +merits.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was very well content with his one speculation, but the +evident joy with which Lady Oxford anticipated serving him was worth +more than his thousands.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My gold shall be in Smilinda's coffers the morning that I get back to +town, 'he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You must go at once,' she exclaimed, 'we must lose no time. Stay. I +will travel with you to-morrow morning if you will favour me with your +company'; and so a new flow of compliments carried the South Sea out +of sight. But a minute or two later Mr. Kelly, chancing to look down +at the hearth, said, quite inconsequently:</p> + +<p class="normal">'We must not forget to thank Lady Mary.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Smilinda followed the direction of his eyes, and saw that Lady Mary's +letter had tumbled out of the fire and now lay, half burnt, but the +other half only curled up and scorched. She shivered as though she was +cold, and the better to warm herself knelt down on the hearth-rug. +Then she took up the letter (which Kelly must not see) and carelessly +tossed it into the fire.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You know Lady Mary,' she said. 'Yes, you told me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I do, indeed,' said Kelly, with a smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I could wish you did not,' said her ladyship with a frown. Smilinda +made it plain that she was jealous. Kelly laughed heartily at the +assumption, which was in truth ridiculous enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who am I,' said he, 'that I should attract Lady Mary's fancy,'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are--my Strephon,' replied Smilinda, with a sigh of exquisite +tenderness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly argued the matter on other grounds. Smilinda listened to them +all.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no doubt you are right,' she said, with a meek resignation. +'But I remember you spoke very warmly of the friendship you had for +her, and ever since--' here she broke off shyly. 'A weak woman's empty +fears,' she continued,' but they keep her awake at nights. Well, she +must even make the best of them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Smilinda lying awake at nights out of jealousy! There was a notion to +convict Mr. Kelly of slow murder. He was on his knees in a moment, and +swore that for the future on earth and in Heaven he would avoid Lady +Mary's company as though she was the devil in person. It was a +confused sort of oath and deprived Mr. Kelly for a time of a very good +friend; but on the other hand it undoubtedly raised a load from Lady +Oxford's anxieties.</p> + +<p class="normal">She left Brampton Bryan the next morning and travelled with Mr. Kelly +up to London, where the coach set them down at the King's Head in the +Strand. Kelly went straight from the King's Head to the goldsmith and +his money was carried to Queen's Square that same afternoon. It would +seem, however, that Mr. Pope had been choused, for the market fell +from little to nothing. But when the Bubble presently burst into air, +Smilinda burst into tears, and Mr. Kelly was smitten to the heart for +her distress.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have ruined thee, my Strephon,' she sobbed. She had covered her +face with her hands and the tears trickled through her fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Love arms me against such ill-fortunes,' replied Kelly. 'It is only +Smilinda's tears that hurt. Each one of them falls upon Strephon's +heart like a drop of molten lead.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, Strephon,' she cried. 'Thou art ruined and Smilinda's hapless +hand hath dealt the blow. The arrow came from her quiver,' she being +one of Dian's nymphs, you are to suppose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Mr. Kelly fell to comparing himself to Procris in the fable, who +was shot by her lover, and said that it was sweet to perish by her +inadvertent shaft. It seems that kind of love-making has now gone out +of date. But that was the humour of it when Kelly and Wogan were +young. Men and women, let them but fall in love, and they were all +swains and nymphs, though they dabbled in the stocks and were as +hard-headed as before and afterwards.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That odious Lady Mary,' exclaimed Smilinda. 'She was born to be my +bane and curse. 'Twas her counsel that ruined my Strephon. My Strephon +has kept his oath?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her Strephon had, but on the other hand, Mr. Wogan had sworn no oath, +and would not have kept it if he had done so. He paid a visit to Lady +Mary soon after Kelly's return from Brampton Bryan. She asked him his +news and gave him a budget of gossip in return.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And Lady Oxford has sold her diamonds!' she ended.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan asked how that came about, and she answered:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Oxford was here at the bassette table three weeks since. Her +stakes were ever inordinately high, and she lost to me all night. She +drew a queen when she should have chose the knave, the knave was +Sonica. "There go my diamonds," she said, and vowing she would punt no +more, went home in her chair. I could not see her or hear of her for a +little. I guessed that she had run away into the country until she +could wheedle enough money to pay me out of the dotard husband. So at +a venture I wrote a polite letter to her, hoping that the country air +would restore her credit. Well, here she is back in London and her +losses paid. That means selling her diamonds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan laughed over Lady Oxford's straits and came home to the lodging +in Bury Street. Wogan's time was getting short and he must return to +Morlaix. But, as has been said, he left Brittany in a hurry with very +little money in his pocket, and what was left at his journey's end he +had since spent in London. So he said to the Parson:</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, my friend, I must dip into your winnings after all. For here +am I with a couple of crowns,' he took them out and laid them on the +table. George flushed crimson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' said he, 'you have two crowns more than I have.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan turned away to the window and looked out into the street, +bethinking him of what Lady Mary had told him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, Nick, it's the truth,' Kelly pleaded, entirely miscomprehending +Wogan's action. 'I drew the money out of the Mississippi and sunk it +in the South Sea. It's all gone. I have not two penny pieces to rub +together until this day week, when my pension is paid. Nick, you'll +believe that. Why, Nick, you would ha' been welcome to all that I had. +But you know that. Sure you know it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan had no such mean thought as Kelly in his fluster attributed to +him. He turned back to the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So you are as poor as an Irish church mouse again, are you?' he said +with a smile. 'Well, here's two crowns--one for me, one for you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He pocketed one coin and pushed the other over to the Parson. The +Parson took it up and turned it over blinking his eyes. For a moment +there was an awkward sort of silence. Wogan laughed; the Parson blew +his nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I hear,' said Wogan, 'that Lady Oxford has lost her diamonds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly looked up in perplexity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lost her diamonds!' said he. 'Why, she wore them last night!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thought the rumour was untrue,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly slipped his crown into his pocket. There was no more said +about the matter between them, though perhaps they clasped hands at +parting with a trifle more than their ordinary heartiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan, however, told Lady Mary of the Parson's loss, and she was +at no pains to discover the explanation. Lady Oxford had paid Lady +Mary with the Parson's guineas. They had never been in the South Sea +Bubble.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I should like to send the money I won back to Mr. Kelly,' said Lady +Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's plainly impossible,' returned Wogan, and to this Lady Mary +perforce agreed. '<i>Olet</i>,' the Latin-learned lady said, and Wogan +remarked, 'Certainly,' so she put the money aside, thinking that some +day she might employ it on Mr. Kelly's behalf. That night Wogan +borrowed his travelling money from Mr. Carte, the historian, whom he +met at the Cocoa Tree, and so set out the next morning for Brittany.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">THE PARSON DEPARTS FROM SMILINDA AND LEARNS +A NUMBER OF UNPALATABLE TRUTHS</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan then returned to Morlaix, and, finding his ketch by this +time cleaned and refitted, and two others (the <i>Revolution</i>, a big +ship of 40 guns, under Morgan, which was afterwards seized by +Commodore Scot at Genoa, and the <i>Lady Mary</i>, a smaller vessel of 14 +guns, commanded by Captain Patrick Campbell) at anchor in the harbour, +he set sail for the Downs. There they picked up four thousand small +arms and a couple of hundred kintals of cannon powder, for traffic, it +was alleged, on the coasts of Brazil and Madagascar. But the arms and +ammunition travelled no further than Bilboa, where they were stored in +the country house of Mr. Brown, an Irish merchant of that part, +against the next expedition to England. At Bilboa the three ships +parted, and Mr. Wogan, taking in upon freight such goods as he could +get, sailed to Genoa, and lay there behind the Mole.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nor was the Parson to tarry long behind him in London; for less than a +fortnight after Wogan's departure, he was sent to carry to Rome, for +the Chevalier's approval, a scheme of a lottery for raising a quarter +of a million pounds, which Mr. Christopher Layer (later hanged) most +ingeniously imagined. With the scheme he carried some silk stockings +as a present for the Chevalier and his spouse. This was none of the +Bishop of Rochester's work, who knew nothing of Mr. Layer, and of what +was later plotted by bold and impatient spirits. The Parson had sad +work parting with Smilinda, but made light of the separation to save +the lady from distress, and she had happily broken a bank at pharo +that same night, which withheld her from entirely breaking her heart. +Still, it was as affecting an affair as one could wish for.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson received certain orders of Atterbury's as to business with +General Dillon, the Chevalier's manager in Paris, just before he was +to start; and, coming from the Deanery at Westminster where the Bishop +resided, he walked at once through Petty France to Queen's Square. +Lady Oxford's house was all in a blaze of light with figures moving to +and fro upon the blinds of the windows. 'Mr. Johnson' was announced, +but for some little while could not get a private word with her +ladyship, and so stood of one side, taking his fill of that perfumed +world of fans and hoops, of sparkling eyes and patches and false +hearts wherein Lady Oxford so fitly moved. Many of the faces which +flitted before his eyes were strange to him, but one he remarked in +particular--a strong, square sort of face set on the top of an elegant +figure that wore the uniform of the King's Guards. Mr. Kelly had seen +that face under the oil-lamp of a portico in Ryder Street on the +occasion when he and Nicholas Wogan set out on their first journey to +Brampton Bryan, and the officer who owned the face was now a certain +Colonel Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly remarked him because he was playing at the same table with her +ladyship, and losing his money to her with all the grace in the world. +At last Lady Oxford rose, and, coming towards him:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well?' she murmured, 'my Strephon is pale.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I leave for Rome to-morrow morning,' he returned in a whisper. At +that her hand went up to her heart, and she caught her breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wait,' said she, and went back to her cards. As the guests were +departing some two hours later, she called to Kelly openly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson leaves for Paris to-morrow morning, and has the great +kindness to carry over some of my brocades, which indeed need much +better repairing than they can get in London.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It made an excuse for Mr. Johnson to stay, but none the less provoked +a smile here and there; and Colonel Montague, deliberately coming to a +stop a few paces from Kelly, took careful stock of him. The Colonel +did not say a word, but just looked him over. Mr. Kelly was tickled by +the man's impudence, and turned slowly round on his heels to give him +an opportunity of admiring his back. Then he faced him again. The +Colonel gravely bowed his thanks for Mr. Kelly's politeness, Mr. Kelly +as gravely returned the bow, and the Colonel stalked out of the door. +It was in this way that Mr. Kelly and the Colonel first met.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the moment Smilinda and Strephon were left alone!</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' wailed Smilinda, and her arms went round Strephon's neck. +'<i>Heureuse en jeu, malheureuse en amour</i>. O fatal cards, would that I +had lost this dross!' cries she, with her eyes on the glittering heap +of guineas and doubloons strewed about the table. 'Oh, Strephon, thou +wilt forget me in another's arms. I dread the French syrens.'</p> + +<p class="normal">And then Mr. Kelly to the same tune:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Never will I forget Smilinda. If I come back with the King, and he +makes me a Bishop, with a pastoral crook, thy Strephon will still be +true.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereat the lady laughed, though Kelly was jesting with a heavy heart, +and vowed that Lady Mary would write a ballad on 'Strephon, or the +Faithful Bishop.' Then she fell into a story of lovely Mrs. Tusher, +the Bishop of Ealing's wife, who was certainly more fair than +faithful. Next she wept again, and so yawned, and gave him her +portrait in miniature.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will not part with it--never--never,' she implored.</p> + +<p class="normal">The portrait was beautifully set with diamonds.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It shall be buried with me,' said Kelly, and so Lady Oxford let him +go, but called him back again when he was through the door to make him +promise again that he would not part with her portrait. Mr. Kelly +wondered a little at her insistence, but set it down to the strength +of her affection. So he departed from the cave of the enchantress with +many vows of mutual constancy and went to Rome, and from Rome he came +back to Genoa, where he fell in with Nicholas Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan remembers very well one night on which the pair of them, +after cracking a bottle in Grimble's tavern, came down to the +water-gate and were rowed on board of Wogan's ketch. This was in the +spring of the year 1721, some four or five months since the Parson had +left England, and Wogan thought it altogether a very suitable occasion +for what he had to say. He took the Parson down into his cabin, and +there, while the lamp flecked the mahogany panels with light and +shade, and the water tinkled against the ship's planks as it swung +with the tide, he told him all that he had surmised of Lady Oxford's +character, and how Lady Mary had corroborated his surmises. At the +first Mr. Kelly would hear nothing of his arguments.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is pure treason,' said he. 'From any other man but you, Nick, I +would not have listened to more than a word, and that word I would +have made him eat. But I take it ill even from you. Why do you tell me +this now? Why did you not tell it me in London, when I could have +given her ladyship a chance of answering the slander?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why,' replied Wogan, 'because I know very well the answer she would +have made to you--a few words of no account whatever, and her soft +arms about your neck, and you'd have been convinced. But now, when you +have not seen her for so long, there's a chance you may come to your +senses. Did you never wonder what brought Scrope to Brampton Bryan?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No need for wonder since she told me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She told you, did she? Well, I'm telling you now, and do you sit +there until I have told you, for Mr. Scrope's history you are going to +hear. Bah, leave that bodkin of a sword alone. If you draw it, upon my +soul I'll knock you down and kneel on your chest. Mr. Scrope went +before you in her ladyship's affections.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here Mr. Kelly flinched as though he had been struck, and thereafter +sat with a white stern face as though he would not condescend to +answer the insinuation. 'Sure he was a gentleman--out of +Leicestershire, and of some fortune, which fortune Lady Oxford spent +for him. He was besides a sad, pertinacious fellow, and nothing would +content him but she must elope with him from her old husband, and make +for themselves a Paradise on the Rhine. It appears that he talked all +the old nonsense--they were man and wife in the sight of God, and the +rest of it. Her ladyship was put to it for shifts and excuses, and at +the last, what with his money being almost spent, and his suit more +pressing, she fled into the country where we met her. Scrope was no +better than a kitten before its eyes are opened, and, getting together +what was left of his fortune, followed her with a chaise, meaning to +carry her off there and then. However, he found us there, and I take +it that opened his eyes. And I would have you beware of Mr. Scrope, +George. A kitten becomes a cat, and a cat has claws. It is Lady Mary's +thought that you have not heard the last of him, for his conscience +hath made him a kind of gentleman spy on the honest party.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George, who in spite of himself could not but see how exactly Wogan's +account fitted in with and explained Scrope's attempt after the +masquerade, caught at Lady Mary's name with an eager relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, it was she gave you this flimsy story,' he cried, leaning forward +over the table. 'There's more malice in it than truth, Nick. The pair +of them have been at loggerheads this long while. Lady Mary never +could suffer a woman who can hold her own against her. Why, Nick, you +have been gulled,' and he lit his pipe, which he had let go out.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, and have I? Well, at all events, I have not stripped myself of +every penny in order to pay Lady Oxford's losses at cards. Scrope is +not the only man whom her ladyship has sucked dry.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What do you mean?' cried Kelly, letting his pipe slip out of his +fingers and break on the floor. Wogan told him of his visit to Lady +Mary, and the story was so circumstantial, the dates of the loss at +cards and the payment so fitted with Lady Oxford's message to Kelly +and her proposal as to the placing of his fortune, that it could not +but give him pause.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is not true,' was all he could find to say, and 'I'll not believe +it,' and so fell to silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You'll be wanting another pipe,' said Wogan. He fetched one from a +cupboard and filled it. The two men smoked for a while in silence. +Then Kelly burst out of a sudden:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, the fool that I was ever to preach that sermon in Dublin,' and +stopped. Wogan knew well enough what the Parson meant. His thoughts +had gone back to the little parsonage, and the rambling cure of half a +dozen parishes, and the quiet library, and evenings by the inn-fire, +where he would tell his little trivial stories of the day's doings. It +was always that dream he would play with and fondle when the world +went wrong with him, though to be sure, could the dream have come +true, he would have been the unhappiest man that ever breathed Irish +air.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Shall we go on deck?' Wogan proposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a fine clear night, but there was no moon. The riding-lights of +ships at anchor were dotted about the harbour, the stars blazed in a +rich sky; the water rippled black and seemed to flash sparks where the +lights struck it; outside the harbour the Mediterranean stretched away +smooth as a slab of marble. Kelly stood in the chains while Wogan +paced up and down the deck. The Parson was in for his black hour, and +silent companionship is the only alleviation for the trouble. After a +time he came towards Wogan and caught him by the arm, but so tight +that Wogan could feel his friend's finger-nails through the thick +sleeves of his coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll not believe it,' Kelly argued; but it was against himself he was +arguing now, as Wogan perceived, and had the discretion to hold his +tongue. ''Faith,' he continued, 'she came into my life like a glint of +the sun into a musty dark room,' and then he suddenly put his hand +into his bosom and drew out something at which he looked for a moment. +He laughed bitterly and swung his arm back. Before, however, he could +throw that something into the sea Wogan caught his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure,' said he, 'I saw a sparkle of diamonds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly opened his hand and showed a miniature.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Oxford's diamonds,' he answered bitterly, 'which she did not +sell, but gave out of a loving, generous heart.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, you're moon-struck,' said Wogan. 'Diamonds, after all, are +always diamonds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said Kelly, 'and I promised never to part with them,' he +sneered. He put the miniature back in his pocket, and then dropping +his arm to his side said,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Put me ashore, Nick. I will see you to-morrow. I am very tired.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But in the morning he was gone, and a few days later Nick, who was not +spared certain prickings of conscience for the hand he had taken in +bringing about the Parson's misfortunes (he had just now, by hindering +him from throwing away the miniature, taken more of a hand than he +guessed), sailed out from Genoa.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rest of that year '21 was a busy time for all engaged in +forwarding the Great Affair. England itself seemed ripe for the +attempt, and it was finally determined to hazard it in the spring of +the next year, when the Elector would be in Hanover. The new plan was +that the exiled Duke of Ormond, whom the soldiers were thought to +love, should sail from Spain with the Earl Marischal, Morgan, and +Halstead, commanding some ragged regiments of Mr. Wogan's countrymen. +The Duke was to land in the west, the King was to be at Antwerp ready +to come over, and the young Prince Charles of Wales, who would then be +not quite two years old, was to be carried to the Highlands. A mob was +to be in readiness in town, with arms secretly buried; the soldiers +were expected to declare for High Church and Ormond; and in a word the +'honest party' was to secure its interest on its own bottom, without +foreign help, which the English people has never loved. The rich +lords, but not Bishop Atterbury, knew of the beginning of this scheme, +but abandoned it. They did not know, or only Lords North and Grey +knew, that the scheme lived on without them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly therefore had his hands full, and it was very well for him +that it was so. There were things at stake of more moment than his +love-affairs, as he was the first to recognise. Yet, even so, he had +time enough, in the saddle and on the sea, to plumb the black depths +of his chagrin and to toss to and fro that shuttlecock of a question, +whether he should accuse her ladyship for her trickeries or himself +for misdoubting her. However, he got a complete answer to that +question before the year was out. It was his habit now, whenever he +was in London, to skulk out of sight and knowledge of Lady Oxford, to +avoid theatres, routs, drums, and all places where she might be met, +and Mr. Carte the historian took his place when it was necessary to +visit Lord Oxford in the country. Mr. Carte had a ready pretence, for +Lord Oxford kept a great store of old manuscripts concerning the +history of the country, and these beauties, it is to be feared, came +somewhat between Mr. Carte and his business, just as her ladyship's +eyes had come between Mr. Kelly's and his. Accordingly the Parson saw +little of her ladyship and heard less, since his friends avoided all +mention of her and he himself asked no questions.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Saw little,' and the phrase is intended. For often enough of an +evening his misery would fetch him out of the coffee houses and lead +him like a man blindfold to where her ladyship was accustomed to +visit. There he would stand in the darkness of the street until the +door opened and Lady Oxford, all smiles and hooped petticoats, would +trip gaily out to her chair. But very likely habit--the habit of her +conversation and appearance--had as much to do with this particular +folly as any despairing passion. How many lovers the wide world over +fancy they are bemoaning their broken hearts, when they are only +deploring their broken habits! Well, Mr. Kelly, at all events, took +the matter <i>au grand sérieux</i>, and so one night saw her ladyship come +out from the porch of Drury Lane theatre in company with Colonel +Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">There is one unprofitable piece of knowledge which a man acquires who +has ever had a woman make love to him; he knows when that woman is +making love to someone else. Lady Oxford's modest droop of the head +when the Colonel spoke, her shy sidelong smile at him, her red lips a +trifle parted as though his mere presence held her in a pleased +suspense--all these tokens were familiar to Mr. Kelly as his daily +bread, and he went home eating his own heart, and nursing a quite +unjustifiable resentment against Nicholas Wogan for that he ever saved +the Colonel's life. It did not take Kelly long to discover that his +suspicions were correct. A few questions to his friends, who for his +sake had kept silence, and the truth was out. Lady Oxford's constancy +had lasted precisely seven weeks before the Whig colonel had stepped +into the Jacobite parson's shoes. Mr. Kelly put his heart beneath his +heel and now stamped her image out of it. Then he went upon his way, +and the King's business took him to Avignon.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">THE PARSON MEETS SCROPE FOR THE THIRD TIME, +AND WHAT CAME OF THE MEETING</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was early in the year 1722 when Mr. Kelly came to <i>la ville +sonnante</i>, and took a lodging at L'Auberge des Papes in the Rue des +Trois Faucons. He brought with him a sum of 5,000<i>l</i>. collected in +England, and this sum he was to hand over to a messenger from the Duke +of Ormond, who was then at Corunna in Spain, and, what with his +disbursements in the purchase of arms, and the support of Irish +troops, was hard put to it for money.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was therefore of the last importance that this sum should come safe +to Corunna, and so extraordinary precautions were taken to ensure that +result. The Parson, since he did not know who the messenger might be, +was to wait every morning between the hours of nine and ten on the +first bench to the left of the Porte du Rhone in the boulevard outside +the city walls, until a man should ask him if he had any comfortable +greeting for Aunt Anne, that being the cant name for the Duke. This +man was thereafter to prove to Mr. Kelly's satisfaction that he was +indeed the messenger expected.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, the messenger was delayed in his journey, and so for a week +George Kelly, having deposited his money with Mr. Philabe, the banker, +sat every morning on his bench with what patience he might. He came in +consequence to take particular notice of an oldish man and a rosebud +of a girl who walked along the boulevard every morning at the time +that he was waiting. They were accompanied by a French poodle dog, and +indeed it was the poodle dog which first attracted Mr. Kelly's +attention to the couple. It has already been said that Mr. Kelly had a +trick of catching a woman's eyes, though this quality implies no great +merit. On the other hand he drew dogs and children to him, and that +implies a very great merit, as you may observe from this, that there +is never a human being betwixt here and Cathay will admit that dogs +and children have a dislike for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The poodle dog, then, comes to a halt opposite Mr. Kelly's bench on +the very first morning that he sat there, cocks his ears, lifts a +forefoot from the ground, and, looking after the old man and the young +girl, says plain as print, 'Here, wait a bit! There's something on +this bench very well worth looking into.' However, his master and +mistress were in a close conversation and so the poodle puts his foot +on the ground and trots after them. But the next morning he came up to +the bench, puts his head of one side to display the fine blue riband +round his neck, squats on his haunches, and flops a paw on to the +Parson's knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">'How d'ye do?' says the Parson politely.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I think I'll stretch myself, thank you,' says the poodle, and +promptly proceeds to do so, using Mr. Kelly's knee as a purchase for +his paws. He was still engaged upon this exercise when his young +mistress missed him. She whistled; the poodle looked at the Parson +with the clearest invitation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Won't you come too?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have not been presented,' replied the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thereupon the girl turned round.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Harlequin,' she called to the dog, and showed Mr. Kelly as sweet a +face as a young man ever deserved to see. It was fresh and clear as +the morning dew, with frank eyes and a scarlet bow of a mouth ready +for a laugh. 'Harlequin!' said Mr. Kelly to himself with a start, as +he looked towards the girl. Harlequin trotted off to his mistress, and +got prettily chided for his forwardness, of which chiding he made +little or no account, and very properly. It is not every dog that +achieves immortality by stretching itself against a stranger's knee. +But Harlequin did. For had Harlequin not made Mr. Kelly's +acquaintance, he would never have found a niche in Mr. Swift's verses.</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0"> +Now let me tell you plainly, Sir,<br> +Our witness is a real cur,<br> +A dog of spirit for his years,<br> +Has twice two legs, two hanging ears,<br> +His name is <i>Harlequin</i>, I wot,<br> +And that's a name in every plot:</p> + +<p class="t2" style="letter-spacing:20pt; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="t0">His answers were extremely witty<br> +Before the secret wise Committee;<br> +Confest as plain as he could bark,<br> +Then with his fore-foot left his mark:</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">wrote the Dean of St. Patrick's concerning this very poodle dog of +Miss Rose Townley.</p> + +<p class="normal">For Rose Townley was the girl's name, as the Parson now knew, and the +old gentleman was her father, who had tended Mr. Nicholas Wogan after +his wounds in the year '15 at Preston. Mr. Wogan had more than once +spoken to Kelly of Dr. Townley and his daughter Rose, who had retired +to Avignon, after the Rising, and he had made mention of their poodle +Harlequin, of which poodle the present or reigning dog, Harlequin II., +was the son and heir. So that, hearing the name called out by Rose, +Kelly was aware who the two people were. Dr. Townley had been +suspected in the Rising, and therefore had settled at Avignon as +physician to the Duke of Ormond, and when the nobleman left the town, +remained because he was grown old, and had lost his taste for politics +and warrings. He had, moreover, received his pardon for his share in +the struggle, and was indeed at this very time preparing to return +into England. But of this Kelly was not aware.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next morning Kelly was again on his bench, and again Dr. Townley +and his daughter passed him. Harlequin came forward at once to wish +the Parson good-morning. Rose spoke to her father, plainly telling him +of Harlequin's new friendship, for the Doctor looked up towards Mr. +Kelly and the girl looked away. In consequence there sprang up a queer +sort of acquaintance between the Doctor and his daughter on the one +hand, and Parson Kelly on the other. Every morning they looked for him +on his bench; every morning he had a few words with Harlequin.</p> + +<p class="normal">Doubtless he would have pursued the acquaintance further, but for +Rose. She it was who kept the Parson from approaching Dr. Townley. For +he was still sore with Lady Oxford's treacheries, and feminine beauty +was <i>vanitas vanitatum</i> to him. Moreover, though he had snatched her +ladyship's image out of his heart, some of her sayings had stuck in +his mind, and amongst her sayings not a few were aimed at girls. +Smilinda was a woman, and saw a rival in each youthful beauty. 'Girls +of our time,' she would say with a sneer, 'were very kind, at all +events, whatever one might think of their looks. And to hear them +speak of marriage, why one would fancy oneself in the company of rakes +dressed up like the other sex for a masquerade.' She would gloat over +the misadventures of poor Mistress Dolly Walpole, the Minister's +sister, by the hour, she had even written a ballad thereon, 'The +Dolliad,' and since Mr. Kelly had never had been much in the society +of young unmarried women, he had insensibly imbibed a deal of +Smilinda's philosophy upon this head. And so he waited for the +messenger in silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, upon the fourth day Mr. Philabe the banker sent round for the +Parson to L'Auberge des Papes, and, when he was come, told him that on +that morning a man called at the bank with a letter which he gave to a +clerk. The clerk carried the letter to Mr. Philabe, who opened it. It +enclosed a second letter superscribed to Mr. George Kelly, and prayed +the banker to add to the superscription Mr. Kelly's address. This Mr. +Philabe would not do, but sent out word that he would take care the +letter came into Kelly's hands. The man, however, who had brought it +immediately replied that it was of the last importance the letter +should be delivered at once: otherwise there was no use in delivering +it at all. If Mr. Philabe would send a messenger at once, well and +good; if not, would he kindly return the letter forthwith.</p> + +<p class="normal">This request roused Mr. Philabe's suspicions. For if he sent a +messenger, as he was prayed to do, the man could follow him, and as +easily discover the address as if Philabe had written it on the note. +He replied consequently that neither could he accede to this request, +but that Mr. Kelly should most certainly have the letter that day.</p> + +<p class="normal">Upon this the man insisted that the letter should be returned to him, +but the more strenuously he insisted, the stronger became Mr. +Philabe's suspicions, until he determined not to part with the letter +at all, and the man finally went away very ill-pleased.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Philabe, as he told this story, handed the letter to Mr. Kelly, +who broke open the seal, and found nothing but a clean sheet of paper.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Little doubt,' said he, 'why the fellow wanted his letter back. It is +a pure trick to know where I lodge. What was he like?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He wore a travelling-dress,' said Mr. Philabe, 'and a cocked hat.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And very likely a pair of boots,' added Kelly. 'But this tells me +very little of his looks.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Philabe was a poor hand at a description, and beyond that the man +had a nose, two eyes, a mouth, two legs, and a pair of arms, Kelly +learned nothing whatever of his appearance.</p> + +<p class="normal">That very day, however, the mystery was to be made clear. Between +daylight and dark Mr. Kelly chanced to walk up the narrow Rue St. +Agricole, and had just come abreast of the broad flight of steps which +leads upwards to the church, when a man leaped down in front of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I beg your pardon,' said the Parson politely stepping aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is not enough,' said the other, and, turning on his heel, he +faced Kelly and barred the way.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly recognised the voice, recognised the face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' cried he, 'Mr. Scrope.' His first feeling was one almost of +exultation. In the face of his enemy he forgot altogether that there +was no longer any amorous reason for his enmity. He almost forgot, +too, what he had heard from Wogan about Mr. Scrope's supposed quality +as a gentleman spy. 'The third time,' he said with a laugh. 'I +promised myself the third time.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope nodded his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We are of one mind, then.' He looked up and down the street. It was +empty from end to end. 'There is a little square terrace at the top of +these steps, with blank walls upon the two sides, and the church door +upon the third. The terrace will be very suitable and quiet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned as he spoke and set a foot upon the lowest step.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One moment,' said Kelly. During Scrope's words he had reflected. +Scrope and himself, politics apart, were really in the like case. For +if he had followed Scrope in her ladyship's caprices, Montague had +followed him, 'as Amurath to Amurath succeeds.' His enmity quite died +away, and gave place to something very like a fellow-feeling. +Moreover, he had to consider the messenger from the Duke of Ormond and +the 5,000<i>l</i>. in Mr. Philabe's keeping.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One moment,' he said. Scrope stopped with a sneer.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If you can remain a few days at Avignon,' he continued, 'I shall be +happy to oblige you in whatever you will. For the moment I have +duties.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Of course,' interrupted Scrope. 'Duties are wonderful convenient +things when one's bones are in danger. The pious Æneas knew that very +well, Mr. Kelly; but then the worthy army-chaplain had not a Scrope +upon his heels for the best part of a twelvemonth.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' cried Kelly, 'then it is you who have followed me.' More than +once he had heard that his steps were dogged.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Over a wearisome stretch of Europe,' agreed Scrope.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was you who came to Philabe this morning?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who else? So, you see, I have been at some pains to come up with you, +and those duties must wait.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Those duties,' replied Kelly, 'are so urgent that I am in two minds +whether to take to my heels.'</p> + +<p class="normal">To any man who was acquainted with the Parson this statement would +have been proof enough that there was all the necessity in the world +for delay. But then Scrope knew very little of his opponent, and:</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am not at all surprised to hear that,' he replied contemptuously.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly reddened at the sneer, but kept a tight hold upon his +patience.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Understand me,' said he quietly. 'If I ran away now, I should most +certainly follow you afterwards, as you have followed me, and when I +came up with you I should kill you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And understand me,' broke in Scrope. His cold, sneering face suddenly +lighted up with a fierce passion. 'Neither you will follow me, nor I +you. We stand face to face, as I have hoped we should until I have +dreamed the hope true. You have robbed me of what I held most +precious. You have done worse. You have proved to me that what I held +most precious was never worth so much as a cracked farthing. That +morning I came to Brampton Bryan, I came at Lady Oxford's bidding. We +were to have done with pretences for good and all. Oh, she had +forgotten, if you will, but if she had forgotten, who made her forget? +You, Mr. Kelly, the sneaking cuckoo! I would have worn her proudly, +for all the world to see--the star upon my coat, the scarf across my +breast. I would have faced my fellows with one arm for her waist, and +the other for a naked sword to silence their slanders with. Well, +there's no waist, but there's still the naked sword.' As he spoke, +with his left hand he jerked his sword out of the scabbard, and caught +it by the hilt with his right. 'There's still the naked sword,' he +laughed, with a sort of thrill in the laugh, and made the blade +whistle through the air. There's still the sword and a vile cuckoo of +a parson--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's enough,' cried Kelly, marching to the steps in an anger now +not a whit less than Scrope's, for there was a certain sting of truth +in Scrope's abuse which put him to shame; 'more than enough.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, not more than enough,' said Scrope quietly, and he followed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You want a little more?' said Kelly, who had reflected. 'Very well; +your heroics may be candid enough, but it is less Mr. Scrope the lover +and rival than Mr. Scrope, the spy, that I regard with a certain +misliking.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Assez</i>, you die!' said Scrope, with a hiss in his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">The space at the top of the steps was a pretty enough spot for their +purpose. It was open only on the side towards the street, which was +quite deserted, and raised so high above the pathway that a passer-by +would see nothing of what was doing. On the other hand, however, the +light was failing. Scrope was for bringing the encounter to a speedy +end, and drove at the Parson in an impetuous fury. His sword glittered +and darted very chill and cold in that grey twilight. He thrust swift +as a serpent.</p> + +<p class="normal">The blood of the Parson was also up. He had at first regarded Scrope's +challenge as a pure piece of irony. Why should two men fight for a +hilding who had equally jilted and cheated the pair? That had been +George's first thought; but now his rapier was drawn for the Cause, +and to rid it of a dangerous enemy. Scrope was probably on the track +of Ormond and the gold, as well as on that of his rival.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson was as brave as steel, but (though he never knew it) was no +true master of the play. The men rushed at each other; their swords +were locked, they were breast to breast; George wrenched his blade +free, leaped back to get his distance, struck his heel against a +cobble, and the next moment he felt Scrope's blade burn into his side. +Kelly clasped his hand over the wound, and sank on to the ground. The +blood came through between his fingers; he snatched the cravat from +his neck, and made a poor shift to bandage it about his body. The one +thought in his mind was of the Duke of Ormond's messenger. Perhaps the +very next morning he might come to Avignon and find no one on the +bench.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A surgeon,' he whispered to Scrope, saving his breath. Scrope was +quietly wiping his sword, and made no reply.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A surgeon,' repeated Kelly. 'I must live.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Or die,' said Scrope carelessly. He pulled on his coat, and came +close to Kelly. Then he suddenly felt in his pockets.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' he said, with an air of disappointment. 'I was hoping that I had +a copy of Virgil wherewith to soothe your last moments. Shall I take a +message to her ladyship?' He picked up his hat. 'Or shall I ask Mr. +Nicholas Wogan to write a ballad--"Strephon's Farewell to his +Smilinda"? Mr. Wogan would, I think, be extremely amusing with so +pathetical a subject for his Muse. Well, it grows late. You will, no +doubt, excuse me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He made a bow to the Parson, clapped his hat on his head, and walked, +whistling to the steps. He stopped when he had descended a couple of +them, and, turning, shook his head thoughtfully at Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But I am grieved I have no Virgil,' he said, and so disappeared below +the level of the terrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly listened till the sound of his feet died slowly down the street. +Then he began to drag himself painfully upon his knees towards the +steps. He did not dare to get to his feet, lest his blood should flow +faster from his wound. He did not dare to shout. He crawled forward +over the flags for miles, it seemed; then the knot of the bandage got +loose, and a great faintness came over him. With fumbling fingers he +re-tied the knot; the flags began to heave before his eyes like waves +of the sea, the silence roared in his ears. He looked upwards, and a +spinning procession of houses and churches turned him giddy. He sank +down on his side, and then he was aware of something wet that rasped +along his hand. He looked down. There was a joyous little bark, and +the something wet rasped along his check.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Harlequin!' he thought, with a pang of hope. He summoned all his +strength, all his will; the houses ceased to spin. He let himself down +to his full length, with great care drew a scrap from one pocket, a +pencil from the other, and laboriously wrote. Then he poked the paper +underneath the ribbon round the poodle's neck. 'Home!' he cried, +clapping his hands; and fainted.</p> + +<p class="normal">But ten minutes afterwards Miss Rose Townley unfolded a slip of paper, +with here and there the mark of a bloody thumb, and written on it +these words, 'Help Harlequin's friend'; and at her feet a bright-eyed +poodle dog stood, wagging his tail, ready to conduct her to the spot +where Harlequin's friend lay in sore need.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">OF THE ROSE AND THE ROSE-GARDEN IN AVIGNON.</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Life is not wholly the lopsided business that some would have you +esteem it. Here was the Parson paying, with a sword-thrust of the +first quality, for a love-affair that was dead already; over and +ended. That was bad, but, to balance his accounts, the Parson waked up +from his swoon in Dr. Townley's house, with the Doctor's beautiful +daughter, Rose, to be his nurse-tender. Lady Oxford had caused his +duel with Scrope, to be sure, but she had thereby, as it were, cast +him straight into the girl's arms, and in that very condition which +was likely to make her most tender to him. Carry the conceit a little +farther, and you'll see that here was Mr. Kelly, through her +ladyship's behaviours, imprisoned in the hands of one of those very +creatures which she was ever persuading him to avoid: namely, that +terrible monster a girl, and she very young, frank, and beautiful. +When the Parson came to his senses, he called Dr. Townley to his side, +and telling him who he was, and how that, being a friend of Mr. +Wogan's, he knew the doctor from hearing his daughter call the dog +Harlequin, he continued:</p> + +<p class="normal">'You were at Preston with my friend, and I therefore have the less +reluctance in asking a service of you beyond those you have already +done me;' and he began to tell the Doctor of the expected messenger +from Spain whom he was to meet on the boulevard.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the Doctor interrupted him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan is indeed my friend, though I have seen nothing of him +these past six years; and his name is a passport into our friendship, +as my daughter will assure you. So, Mr. Kelly, such kindness and +hospitality as we can show you you may count upon; but--well, I had my +surfeit of politics at Preston. I have no longer any faith in your +cause, in your King. I do not think that he will come before the +coming of the Coquecigrues. I am, indeed, leaving Avignon in a few +months, and hope for nothing better than a peaceful life in some +village of my own country under the King who now sits on the throne.</p> + +<p class="normal">This he said very kindly, but with a certain solemnity which quite +closed Mr. Kelly's lips; and so, giving him a sleeping potion, the +Doctor left the room. In spite of the potion, however, the Parson +made but a restless night of it, and more than once from under his +half-closed lids he saw the doctor come to his bedside; but towards +morning he fell into something of a sleep and woke up in the broad +daylight with a start, as a man will who has something on his mind. In +a minute or two Mr. Kelly remembered what that something was. He got +out of his bed, and, holding the door open, listened. There was no +sound audible at all except the ticking of a clock in the parlour +below. Mr. Kelly drew on his clothes carefully, so as not to disarrange +the bandages of his wound, and, taking his shoes in his hand, crept +down the stairs. It was a slow, painful business, and more than once he +had to sit down on the steps and rest. He glanced into the parlour as +he passed, and saw, to his great relief, that it was only half past +eight in the morning. What with fomentations and bandages Mr. Kelly +had kept the tiny household out of bed to a late hour, and so no one +was astir. He drew back the bolt and slipped out of the house.</p> + +<p class="normal">Half an hour later, Dr. Townley came into the bedroom and found it +empty. He scratched his head to ease his perplexity, and then wisely +took counsel with his daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was a man he expected to come for him,' he said. 'He was very +urgent last night that I should see to it. But I cut him short, and so +do not know where they were to meet with each other.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment the clock in the parlour struck nine.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know!' cried Rose on a sudden, and dragged her father off to the +boulevard outside the Porte du Rhone, where they discovered Mr. Kelly +sitting bolt upright on his bench, with a flushed red face and +extraordinarily bright eyes, chattering to himself like a monkey.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson lay for a week after that at death's door, and it needed +all Dr. Townley's skill and Rose's nursing to keep him out of the +grave. Meanwhile the Duke of Ormond's messenger arrived from Corunna, +and kicked his heels on the boulevard until Mr. Kelly recovered his +senses and summoned Mr. Philabe to his aid. Mr. Philabe the next +morning took Kelly's place on the bench, and that day the money +changed hands and the messenger started back post-haste to Corunna. At +Corunna he told the story of the Parson's misfortune in more than one +café, and so it came shortly to Wogan's ears, who put in with his ship +at that port in order to give up his command.</p> + +<p class="normal">The reason for this change in Wogan's condition was simple enough. +Sufficient arms and ammunition had now been collected at Bilboa, and +it was become urgent that the plans for the rising of the soldiers in +England, and the capture of the Tower of London, should be taken +earnestly in hand. The Duke of Ormond, who was to land in the West, +was supposed a great favourite with the English troops, but it was +none the less necessary that their favour should be properly directed. +To that end Mr. Talbot, Tyrell, and Nicholas Wogan, amongst others, +were deputed to travel into England, ready for the moment of striking. +Nick was to have the rank of a colonel, and was bidden to repair to +Paris by a certain date, where he was to take his instructions from +General Dillon and the Earl of Mar. Now that date gave him half a week +or so of leisure, and he knew of no better use to which he could put +it than in stopping at Avignon, which lay directly in his path to +Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">But before he reached the olives of Provence Mr. Kelly was +convalescent and much had happened. How it had happened Mr. Wogan only +discovered by hints which the Parson let slip unconsciously. For +George had a complete distaste for the sensibilities, and, after all, +a true man, even in the company of his closest friend, never does more +than touch lightly upon the fringe of what he holds most sacred. He +said that he was recovered of two fevers at one and the same time, and +by the same ministering hands, and so was come forth into a sweet, +cool life and a quiet air. His affairs, whether of stocks in the +Mississippi scheme or of the Great Business, went clean out of his +mind. His heart was swept and garnished like the man's in the Parable, +and almost unawares a woman opened the door and stepped in, bringing +with her train seven virtues, as of modesty, innocence, faith, +cheerfulness, youth, courage, and love--qualities no better nor no +fairer than herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">How did it begin? Why, at the first there would be a smiling face at +the doorway to wish him a good morning, or if he had slept ill a sweet +look of anxious fear which would make up for a dozen sleepless nights. +When he could get up from his bed and come into the parlour, the dog +Harlequin, and Rose, and he became children and playfellows together, +for the brute had been taught a hundred pretty tricks that would make +a dying man laugh; until at length the girl grew familiar, and was +seated at the very hearth and centre of his affections, where her +memory remains enshrined.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly spoke frankly of the matter only once in Mr. Wogan's +hearing, and that was many years afterwards, and then he was not +speaking of the matter at all. It was Lady Mary Wortley who set him on +to it one night.</p> + +<p class="normal">For she quoted a saying of some sage or another. 'In a man,' said she, +'desire begets love, and in a woman love begets desire.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And that is true,' said Kelly. 'I do think the steadfast and +honourable passions between our sex and women are apt to have their +beginnings on the woman's side, and then, being perceived and most +gratefully welcomed, light up as pure a flame in the heart of a man. +For otherwise, if a man sees a woman that she is fair, as King David +saw Bathsheba, and so covets her, his appetite may in the end turn to +love or may not. But if his eyes are first opened to an innocent +woman's love, he being at best a sinful creature, he is then stirred +with a wonderful amazement of grateful tenderness which never can pass +away, but must endure, as I hold, even after death.' Which was all +very modish and philosophical, and meant--well, just what anyone who +had visited Avignon in February of the year '22 might have seen with +half an eye. Rose was in love with the Parson and the Parson knew it, +and so fell in love with Rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan reached Avignon in the afternoon. The Doctor's house stood a +stone's throw from the Palace of the Emperor Constantine, with a +little garden at the back which ran down to the city wall. The top of +the wall was laid out as a walk with a chair or two, and there Wogan +found the Parson and Rose Townley. It was five years and more since +Wogan had seen Rose Townley, and she was grown from a child to a +woman. He paid her a foolish compliment, and then the three of them +fell into an awkward silence. Mr. Wogan asked Kelly for a history of +his wound, and then:</p> + +<p class="normal">'So 'twas Scrope. Lady Mary was right when she warned me we had not +seen the last of him. 'Faith, George, it was my fault. For, d'ye see, +if I had not been so fond of my poetry I should have made my account +with the gentleman at the gates of Brampton Bryan Manor, and you would +never have been troubled with him at all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Brampton Bryan?" asked Rose. "Where is that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly made no answer, and perhaps Wogan's remark was not the +discreetest in the world. Miss Rose would not forget that name, +Brampton Bryan. At all events, the three of them fell to silence once +more, and Mr. Wogan knew that he was trespassing and that he would +have done better to have journeyed straight to Paris. Rose, however, +came to the rescue and made him tell over again, as he had told her +often before, his stories of the march to Preston. But, whereas before +she had listened to them with a great enthusiasm and an eagerness for +more, now her colour came and went as though they frightened her, and +she would glance with a quick apprehension towards the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the battles are to be fought all over again,' she said, clasping +her hands on her knees, and then plied Wogan for more details. She +shivered at the thought of wounds and cannon-balls and swords, yet she +must know to the very last word all that was to be described of them. +So, until the sun sank behind the low green hills of the Cevennes, and +the Rhone at their feet, in that land of olives, took on a pure olive +tint. Then she rose and went into the house to prepare the supper, +leaving the two friends together; and it presently appeared that Rose +Townley was not the only one who was frightened.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson watched her as she went down the garden, brushing the pink +blossoms from the boughs of a peach tree or two that grew on the lawn. +There was an old moss-grown stone sundial close to the house; she +paused for a moment beside it to pick up a scarf which was laid on the +top and so passed through the window, whence in a moment or two a +lamp-light shone. The Parson seemed sunk in a reverie.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am afraid, Nick,' he said slowly. 'I am afraid.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What! You too?' exclaimed Wogan. 'Afraid of the wars?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The wars--no, no,' replied Kelly scornfully dismissing the +interpretation of his fears, and then following out his own train of +thoughts, 'you have known her a long time, Nick?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Six years.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I would that I too had known her six years ago,' said the Parson with +a remorseful sigh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She has changed in those six years.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'How?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, she has grown a foot, and grown a trifle shy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, but that's only since--' began the Parson with a nod, and came to +a sudden stop. Rose's shyness was the outcome of her pride. She was +shy just because she knew that she loved a man who had breathed no +word of love to her. Mr. Kelly sat for a little longer in silence. +Then,</p> + +<p class="normal">'But I am afraid, Nick,' he repeated, and so went down into the house +leaving Nick in some doubt as to what he was afraid of.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson repeated his remark the next morning after breakfast. Mr. +Wogan was smoking a pipe upon the wall; the Parson was walking +restlessly about as he spoke.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am afraid,' said he, and looks towards the house. As soon as he +looked, he started. So Wogan looked too. Rose Townley had just come +from the window and was walking across the lawn more or less towards +them with an infinite interest and attention for everything except the +two figures on the city wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She comes slowly,' said Kelly in a great trepidation, as though he +had screwed up his courage till it snapped like a fiddle-string. 'She +is lost in thought. No doubt she would not be disturbed,' and he +glanced around him for means of escape. There was, however, only one +flight of narrow steps from the wall down to the garden; and if he +descended that he would be going to meet her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan laughed. 'She comes very slowly,' said he. 'No doubt she saw you +from the window.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is plain she did not,' replied the Parson, 'for, as you say, she +comes very slowly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The vanity of the creature!' cried Wogan. 'D'ye think if she saw you +she would run at you and butt you in the chest with her head?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' says Kelly quickly. 'I do not. But--well, if she saw us here she +would at the least look this way.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Would she?' asked Wogan. ''Faith, my friend, you'll have to go to +school again. Your ignorance of the ways of women is purely +miraculous. She does not look this way, therefore she does not know +you are here! She looks to every other quarter; observe, she stops and +gazes at nothing with the keenest absorption, but she will not look +this way. Oh, indeed, indeed, my simple logician, she does not know +you are here. Again she comes on--in this direction, you'll observe, +but how carelessly, as though her pretty feet knew nothing of the path +they take. See, she stops at the dial. Mark how earnestly she bends +over it. There's a great deal to observe in a dial. One might think it +was a clock and, like herself, had stopped. There's a peach tree she's +coming to. A peach tree in blossom. I'll wager you she'll find +something very strange in those blossoms to delay her. There, she +lifts them, smells them--there's a fine perfume in peach blossoms--she +peers into them, holds them away, holds them near. One might fancy +they are the first peach blossoms that ever blossomed in the world. +Now she comes on again just as carelessly, but perhaps the +carelessness is a thought too careful, eh? However, she does not look +this way. Watch for her surprise, my friend, when she can't but see +you. She will be startled, positively startled. Oh, she does not know +you are here.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl walked to the steps, mounted them, her face rose above the +level of the wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' she cried, 'Mr. Kelly!' in an extremity of astonishment. Wogan +burst out into a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is it?' asked Rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, Mr. Kelly will tell you,' said Wogan, and he strolled to the +end of the walk, turned, walked down the steps and so left them +together.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What was it amused Mr. Wogan?' asked Rose of Kelly as soon as Wogan +had vanished. The Parson left the question unanswered. He balanced +himself on one foot for a bit then on the other, and he began at the +end, as many a man has done before.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I can bring you nothing but myself,' said he, 'and to be sure myself +has battered about the world until it's not worth sweeping out of your +window.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then I won't,' said she with a laugh. The laugh trembled a little, +and she looked out over the river and the fields of Provence with eyes +which matched the morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You won't!' he repeated, and then blundered on in a voice of intense +commiseration. 'My dear, I know you love me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not precisely what Rose expected to hear, and she turned +towards the Parson with a look of pride. 'And of course I love you +too,' he said lamely.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You might almost have begun with that,' said she with a smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Was there need?' he asked. 'Since I thought every blade of grass in +your garden was aware of it.' Then he stood for a second silent. +'Rose,' said he, savouring the name, and again 'Rose,' with a happy +sort of laugh. But he moved no nearer to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose began to smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am glad,' said she demurely, 'that you find the name to your +liking.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is the prettiest name in the world,' cried he with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am much beholden to my parents,' said she.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, my dear,' he continued, 'you put it to shame.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl uttered a sigh which meant 'At last!' but Mr. Kelly was in +that perturbation that he altogether misunderstood it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But you mustn't believe, my dear, it's for your looks I love you,' he +said earnestly. 'No, it's for your self; it's for the shining +perfections of your nature. Sure I have seen good-looking women before +to-day.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no doubt of that,' she said, tapping with her foot on the +pavement.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, I have,' said he. 'But when I looked at them 'twas to note the +colour of their eyes or some such triviality, whereas when I look at +your eyes, it's as though a smiling heart leaned out of them as from a +window and said, "How d'ye do?" Sure, my dear, I should love you no +less if you had another guess nose, and green eyes.' (He reflectively +deformed her features.) 'It's your shining perfections that I am on my +knees to.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Are you?' she interrupted with a touch of plaintiveness. He was +standing like a wooden post and there was at the least a couple of +yards between them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Just your shining perfections. 'Faith, you have the most +extraordinary charm without any perversity whatever, which is a pure +miracle. I am not denying,' he continued thoughtfully, 'that there's +something taking in perversity when it is altogether natural, but, to +be sure, most women practise it as though it were one of the fine +arts, and then it's nothing short of damnable--I beg your pardon,' he +exclaimed waking up of a sudden. 'Indeed, but I don't know what I am +saying at all. Rose,' and he stepped over to her, 'I have no prospects +whatever in the world, but will you take them?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Well, she did. Mr. Kelly had come to his meaning in a roundabout +fashion enough, as he acknowledged that same day to Nicholas Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Upon my conscience, but I made a blundering ass of myself,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You would,' said Wogan. 'My dear man, why didn't you tell me of your +intention and I would have written you out a fine sort of speech that +you could have got by heart?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure I should have stammered over the first sentence and forgot the +rest,' said Kelly with a shake of the head. 'To tell the truth, the +little girl has sunk me to such a depth of humility and diffidence +that I find it wonderful I said anything at all.' Then he grew silent +for a minute or so. 'Nick,' said he secretly, drawing his chair a +trifle closer. 'There's a question troubles me. D'ye think I should +tell her of My Lady Oxford?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would be entirely superfluous,' replied Wogan with decision, +'since the thing's done with.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But is it?' asked Kelly. 'Is it, Nick? Look you here. We thought it +was done with a year ago, and up springs Mr. Scrope at Avignon. Mr. +Scrope does his work and there's not the end of it. For I am carried +here and so my very betrothal is another consequence. It is as though +her ladyship had presented me to Rose. Well, how are we to know it's +done with now? If it ends here it is very well. But, d'ye see, Nick, +it was after all not the most honourable business in the world, and am +I to make this great profit out of it? Well, perhaps my fears confuse +my judgment. I am all fears to-day, Nick,' and he stopped for a moment +and clapped his hand into his pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll confess to you a very childish thing,' said he. 'Look!' and out +of his pocket he drew a pistol.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What's that for?' asked Nick.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It's loaded,' replied Kelly. 'I went up to my room, after the little +girl had taken me, and loaded it and slipped it into my pocket,' and +he began to laugh, perhaps something awkwardly. 'For, you see, since +she prizes me, why I am grown altogether valuable.' He put back the +pistol in his pocket. 'But don't misunderstand me, Nick. The new fears +are quite overbalanced by a new confidence. Sure, it's not the future +I am afraid of.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I understand,' said Wogan gravely. 'It's what's to come.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, that's it,' said Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Being afraid, and being a man of honour, Kelly did nothing, said +nothing on the head of his old love affair, and trembled with +apprehension of he knew not very well what. A path of flowers +stretched before him, but a shadow walked on it, a tall, handsome +shadow, yet unfriendly. It is Mr. Wogan's firm belief, based on +experience, that a woman always finds everything out. The only +questions are, when, and how will she take it? Sometimes it is a +letter in the pocket of an old coat which the dear charitable creature +is giving to a poor devil of a chairman. Sometimes it is a glance at a +rout, which she shoots flying. Now it is a trinket, or a dead flower +in a book, or a line marked in a poem, but there is always a trail of +the past, and woman never misses it.</p> + +<p class="normal">George's wooing seemed as flowery as the meadows about Avignon, white +with fragrant narcissus, or as the gardens purple with Judas trees in +spring. Rose was all <i>parfait amour</i>, and, in her eyes, Mr. Kelly was +a hero, a clerical Montrose, or a Dundee of singular piety. Wogan has +known women more zealous for the Cause, such as her Grace of +Buckingham, or Madame de Mézières, who had ever a private plot of her +own running through the legs of our schemes, like a little dog at a +rout, and tripping us up. To Miss Townley George was the Cause, and +the Cause was George, so that, in truth, she was less of a Jacobite +than a Georgite.</p> + +<p class="normal">There never had been such a George as hers for dragons. Why did he +fight Mr. Scrope? She was certain it was all for the Cause! Indeed, +that <i>casus belli</i>, as the lawyers say, proved a puzzle. Why, in fact, +did the Parson come to be lying on the flags, in receipt of a +sword-thrust of the first quality? George was the last man to brag of +his services, but he was merely obliged to put the sword-thrust down +to his credit with the Cause. His enemy had been a Whig, a dangerous +spy, which was true, but not exactly all the truth, about as much of +it as a man finds good for a woman.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose clasped her hands, raised her eyes to Heaven, and wondered that +it did not better protect the Right. What other deeds of arms had her +warrior done? She hung on George imploring him to speak of deadly +'scapes, and of everything that it terrified her to hear. Mr. Kelly, +in fact, had never drawn sword in anger before; he was, by profession, +a man of peace and of the pen. If ever he indulged a personal +ambition, it would have been for a snug Irish deanery, and he +communicated to Miss Townley a part of his favourite scheme, for +leisure, a rose-hung parsonage, and Tully, his Roman friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the girl put this down to his inveterate modesty, remarked by all +Europe in his countrymen.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, I <i>know</i> you have done more,' she said one day alone with him in +a bower of the garden. 'You have done something very brave and very +great, beyond others. You helped to free the Queen from the Emperor's +prison at Innspruck!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I!' exclaimed Mr. Kelly in amazement. 'What put that notion into the +prettiest head in the world? Why, it was Nicholas's brother Charles, +with other Irish gentlemen, Gaydon, Misset, and O'Toole, who did that +feat; the world rings of it. I was in Paris at that time.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then you did something greater and braver yet, that is a secret for +State reasons, or else, why does the King give you such rich +presents?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly blushed as red as the flower after which his lady was named.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now,' he thought, 'how, in the name of the devil, did she hear of the +box the King gave me, and I gave to Lady Oxford?'</p> + +<p class="normal">That trinket was lying on Lady Oxford's table, but the face behind the +mirror was now that of a handsomer man than either his Majesty, or Mr. +Kelly, or Colonel Montague. Kelly knew nothing about that, but he +blushed beautifully when Miss Townley spoke of a rich royal present.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You blush,' cried the girl, before he could find an answer. 'I know +you are hiding something, now.' (And here she added to his pleasure +without taking anything from his confusion), 'Tell me why you blush to +find it fame?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Troth, isn't my face a mirror, and reflects your rosy one, my Rose?' +answered Mr. Kelly, putting on a great deal of the brogue, to make her +laugh. For, if a woman laughs, she is apt to lose sight of her idea.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I must be told; I cannot trust you to show me how brave you are.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was upon dangerous ground. If he was expected to talk about +the box given by the King, and if Rose wished to see, or to know what +had become of it, Kelly had not a fable ready, and the truth he could +not tell. He made a lame explanation:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, then, I blushed, if I did, for shame that the King has to +borrow money to help better men than me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I don't care if he borrowed the money or not, for he could not have +borrowed for a better purpose than to give you--what I have seen.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was pale enough now. What in the wide world had she seen? +Certainly not the snuffbox.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Seen in a dream, my dear; sure the King never gave me anything but my +little pension.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then you know other kings, for who else give diamonds? Ah, you are +caught! You have the Queen's portrait set with diamonds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Queen's portrait?' cried Kelly in perplexity. He was comforted as +well as perplexed. 'Twas plain that Rose knew nothing of the royal +snuffbox, now the spoil of Lady Oxford's spear and bow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' cried Rose. 'Whose portrait but the Queen's should it be that +lies on your table? So beautiful a lady and such diamonds!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly groaned in spirit. The snuff-box was not near so dangerous +as this new trail that Rose had hit. She had seen, in his possession, +the miniature of Smilinda, and had guessed that it was a royal gift; +the likeness of the Princess Clementina Sobieska, who had but lately +married the King.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I saw it lying on your table the day we brought you home from the +seat on the boulevard, when we thought'(here Miss Rose hid her face on +her lover's shoulder, and her voice broke) 'that--you--would--die.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Now was this rose wet with a shower, and when Kelly, like the glorious +sun in heaven, had dried these pretty petals, what (Mr. Wogan puts it +to the casuists) was the dear man to say? What he thought was to curse +Nick for holding his hand when he was about throwing Smilinda's +picture into the sea.</p> + +<p class="normal">What he said was that, under Heaven, but without great personal +danger, he had been the blessed means of detecting and defeating a +wicked Hanoverian plot to kidnap and carry off from Rome the dear +little Prince of Wales, and Mrs. Hughes, his Welsh nurse. This +prodigious fable George based on one of the many flying stories of the +time. It satisfied Miss Townley's curiosity (as, indeed, it was very +apt to do) and George gave her the strictest orders never to breathe a +word of the circumstance, which must be reckoned a sacred mystery of +the royal family. He also remarked that the portrait flattered her +Majesty (as painters will do), and that, though extremely pretty and +gay, she had not that air of dignity and command, nor was so dark a +beauty. 'In fact, my dear,' said George, 'you might wear that portrait +at the Elector's Birth Night rout (if you could fall so low) and few +people would be much the wiser. These Roman painters are satisfied +with making a sitter pretty enough to please her, or him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George was driven to this flagrant incorrectness because, though Miss +Townley had not yet seen the Queen's portrait (her father having +changed sides) she might see one any day, and find Mr. Kelly out.</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl was satisfied, and the thing went by, for the time. But, on +later occasions, his conscience gnawing him, the good George very +unwisely dropped out general hints of the unworthiness of his sex, and +of himself in particular, as many an honest fellow has done. In Mr. +Wogan's opinion, bygones ought to be bygones, but it takes two to that +bargain. Meanwhile Miss Rose might make as much or as little of her +lover's penitences as she chose, and, indeed, being a lass of gold, +with a sense of honour not universal in her sex, and perfectly sure of +him, she made nothing whatever, nor thought at all of the matter.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there was another dragon in the course that never yet ran smooth. +The excellent surgeon, who had not recovered the fright of Preston, +was obdurate. He had no dislike for Mr. Kelly, but a very great +distaste for Mr. Kelly's Cause. Rose might coax, the Parson might +argue, Wogan might use all his blandishments--the good man was iron. +In brief, Kelly must cease to serve the King, or cease to hope for +Rose. This was a hard choice, for indeed Mr. Kelly could not in honour +leave hold of the threads of the plot which were then in his hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">So much Dr. Townley was at last brought to acknowledge, and thereupon +a compromise was come to. Mr. Kelly was to go over to England once +again, on the last chance. The blow was to be struck in this spring of +the year 1722. If it failed, or could not be struck, Mr. Kelly was to +withdraw from the King's affairs and earn his living by writing for +the booksellers, and instructing youth.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson was the more ready to agree to this delay, because of a +circumstance with which he was now acquainted. The Doctor and his +daughter were themselves on the point of returning to England. Mr. +Kelly and Rose had no great difficulty in persuading the surgeon that +he would find it more convenient to live in London than in the +country, of the miseries of which they drew a very pathetic and +convincing picture; and so, being assured that the delay would not +mean a complete separation, they accepted the plan and fell to mapping +out their lives.</p> + +<p class="normal">They chose the sort of house they would live in and where, whether in +Paris or in England: they furnished it from roof to cellar.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There must be a room for Nick,' said the Parson, 'so that he can come +in and out as if to his own house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had borne his part in persuading Dr. Townley, without a +thought of the great change which the Parson's marriage meant for him. +But these words, and the girl's assent, and above all a certain +unconscious patronage in their voices, struck the truth into him with +something of a shock.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan escaped from the room, and walked about in the garden. These +two men, you are to understand, had been boys together, George being +by some years the older, and had quarrelled and fought and made +friends again twenty times in a day. Mr. Kelly bore, and would bear +till his dying day, a little scar on his cheek close to his ear, where +he was hit by a mallet which Wogan heaved at him one day that he was +vexed. Wogan never noticed that scar but a certain pleasurable +tenderness came over him. His friendship with the Parson had been, as +it were, the heart of his boyhood. And in after years it had waxed +rather than diminished. The pair of them could sit one on each side of +a fire in perfect silence for an hour together, and yet converse +intelligibly to each other all the while. Well, here was Mr. Wogan +alone in the darkness of the little garden at Avignon now. The Rhone +looked very cold beneath the stars, and the fields entirely desolate +and cheerless. Yet he gazed that way persistently, for if he turned +his head toward the house he saw a bright window across which the +curtains were not drawn, and a girl's fair hair shining gold against a +man's black periwig. Mr. Wogan had enough sense to strangle his +jealousy that night, and was heartily ashamed of it the next morning +when he bade the couple good-bye and set out for Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly took his leave a few days later, being now sufficiently +recovered to travel. The precise date was the eighth of April. To part +from Rose you may well believe was a totally different matter from his +adieus to Smilinda. Nothing would serve the poor girl, who had no +miniature and diamonds to give, but to sacrifice what she prized most +in the world after her father and her lover.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You cannot take me,' she said with a tearful little laugh, 'but you +shall take Harlequin, who made us acquainted. That way you will not be +altogether alone.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Harlequin wagged his tail, and sat up on his hind legs as though he +thoroughly approved of the proposal, and Mr. Kelly, to whom the poodle +could not but be an inconvenience, had not the heart to refuse the +gift.</p> + +<p class="normal">George had to give as well as to take, and felt even less blessed in +giving than in receiving. For Miss Rose must have a souvenir of him, +too, and what should it be but that inestimable testimony to her +lover's loyalty and courage, the Portrait of the Queen! There was no +way of escape, and thus, as a memorial of Mr. Kelly's singular +attachment to the best of Causes and of Queens, Miss Townley was +treasuring the likeness of the incomparable Smilinda. The ladies, in +the nature of things, could never meet, George reckoned, for the +daughter of the exiled country physician would not appear among the +London fashionables.</p> + +<p class="normal">In Paris, on his road to London, Mr. Kelly visited the Duke of Mar, +who most unfortunately took notice of the dog, and asked him what he +purposed to do with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My Lord,' replied Kelly, 'when I am on my jaunts Harlequin will find +a home with the Bishop of Rochester, whose wife has a great liking for +dogs. The poor lady is ill, and, alas, near to her death; the Bishop +is fretting under the gout, and his wife's sickness, and the +jealousies among the King's friends. Moreover, he is much occupied +with building his tomb in the Abbey, so that, altogether, their house +is of the gloomiest, and Harlequin may do something to lighten it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">For the poodle had more accomplishments than any dog that ever the +Parson had met with, and this he demonstrated to the Duke of Mar by +putting him through his tricks. The Duke laughed heartily, and +commended the Parson's kindliness towards his patron. But in truth the +Parson never did a worse day's work in the whole of his life.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">OF THE GREAT CONFUSION PRODUCED BY A BALLAD +AND A DRUNKEN CROW</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">From this time until Saturday, May 19, the world seemed to go very +well for those concerned in the Bishop of Rochester's plot, which was +a waiting plot; and in the other scheme, the scheme for an immediate +rising, which was a hurrying scheme, and not at all known to the good +Bishop. There was a comforting air of discontent abroad; the losses +from the South Sea made minds heavy and purses light. Mr. Walpole had +smoked nothing of what was forward, so far as a man could see; and +within a month the country was to rise. Mr. Wogan from Paris travelled +to Havre-de-Grace, whence James Roche, an Irishman, settled in that +port, and a noted smuggler upon the English coast, set him across the +Channel, and put him ashore at the Three Sheds and Torbay near +Elephant Stairs in Rotherhithe. Mr. Wogan took his old name of Hilton, +and went about his business, paying a visit now and again to the Cocoa +Tree, where amongst other gossip he heard that Lady Oxford was still +on the worst of friendly terms with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and the +best of loving terms with Colonel Montague. There was more than one +jest aimed at Mr. Kelly on this last account, since a man who has been +fooled by a woman is ever a fair mark for ridicule; and when James +Talbot began to talk of the Parson with a mock pity, Wogan could no +longer endure it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure your compassion is all pure waste, Crow,' said he. 'I could tell +you a very pretty tale about the Parson were I so minded.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Of course he <i>was</i> minded, and he told the story of the Parson's +betrothal with a good many embellishments. He drew so tender a picture +of Rose, that he became near to weeping over it himself; he clothed +her in high qualities as in a shining garment, and you may be sure he +did not spare Lady Oxford in the comparison. On the contrary, he came +very near to hinting that it was the Parson jilted Lady Oxford, who +therefore fell back upon Colonel Montague to cover her discomfiture. +At all events that was the story which soon got about, and Mr. Wogan +never said a word to correct it, and in due time, of course, and in a +way not very agreeable, it came to her Ladyship's ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson arrived in London on a Wednesday, the 13th of April. The +weather had been terrible on the sea, and the unhappy dog Harlequin +had contrived to slip his leg by a fall on deck. However, he soon +recovered of his injury, thanks to the care of Mrs. Barnes, and Mr. +Kelly carried him to the Bishop's house at Bromley, where his lady lay +a-dying. There, too, as he had good cause afterwards to remember, he +wrote certain letters for the Bishop, to the King, the Duke of Mar, +and General Dillon, and put them in the common post. They did but +carry common news, and excuses for delay. The Bishop's lady died on +the 26th of April, and on that very day Harlequin's hurt broke out +again, and the poor creature went whining lugubriously about the +gloomy house, as though it was mourning for its mistress. This fact +should be mentioned, because the Duke of Mar had made an inquiry in a +letter as to how Harlequin fared, and whether <i>Mr. Illington</i>, as the +Bishop was called, had as yet received the dog. Kelly replied that +'<i>Illington</i> is in great tribulation for poor Harlequin, who is in a +bad way, having slipped his leg again,' which was true, for since the +dog by his tricks greatly lightened his lady's sickness, the Bishop +grew very fond of him, though at the Bishop's trial, when these things +were brought up to prove that Illington and he were the same man, it +was said 'he never loved a dog.' So much for Mr. Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose and her father reached London a fortnight or more after the +Parson. Wogan had no knowledge of her arrival, for since he left +Avignon he had not so much as clapped his eyes upon the Parson, who, +what with the Bishop's grief for his wife, and what with the Bishop's +gout, was much occupied at Bromley. It was not until that calamitous +day, the 19th of May, that the two friends met again. Events moved +very quickly upon that same day. It seemed they had been hatching this +long while out of sight, like thunderclouds gathering on a clear day +under the rim of the sea. Seven breathless hours saw the beginning and +the end. For it was not until six o'clock of the afternoon that Mr. +Wogan chanced upon the ballad, that was our ruin, and by three of the +morning all was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, on the 19th of May, in the morning, Mr. Wogan found himself far +enough from London, at the seat of Sir Harry Goring, a gentleman of +Sussex, and a very loud friend of the Cause.</p> + +<p class="normal">This noisy Sir Harry drove Mr. Wogan back to town, in very great state +and splendour, and drew up before Burton's coffee-house, at an hour +when the streets had lost the high sun of the day. Mr. Wogan alighted, +thinking to seek his letters at Burton's, and the baronet's carriage +rolled off to his town house. Wogan entered the coffee-house; the +great room was extraordinary full, and there was an eager buzz of +talkers, who dropped their voices, and looked oddly at Mr. Wogan as he +passed through, and so upstairs to a little chamber kept private for +himself and his friends.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he went he heard roars of laughter, and a voice chanting in the +deplorable, lamenting tone of the street ballad-singer. Mr. Wogan +caught a name he knew in this ditty, and knocking hastily in the +manner usual and arranged, was admitted. The room was thick with +tobacco smoke, and half-a dozen empty bottles made mantraps on the +floor. Through the Virginia haze Wogan saw two men; one was Tyrell, a +friend of the Cause, the other was a tall man, very black, in whom he +recognised his friend Talbot, of his own country and politics, +nicknamed the Crow from his appearance. The Crow was swaying on his +legs as he steadied himself by the table, and he sang:--</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0">Let Weapons yield them to the Gown,</p> +<p class="t3">The Latin Singers say:</p> +<p class="t0">Ye Squires and Ladies of renown,</p> +<p class="t3">The tune is changed to-day!</p> +<p class="t0">A Lady loved a Parson good,</p> +<p class="t3">And vowed she'd still be true,</p> +<p class="t0">Alas, the Sword goes o'er the Hood,</p> +<p class="t3">The Sword of Montague!</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">'What ribaldry have you got now?' said Wogan, but the Crow hastily +embraced him in the French manner, holding the paper of the ballad +over his shoulder, and still chanting.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The little Parson is made immortal,' quoth he. 'Here is the newest +ballad, all the story of his late amorous misfortune. Why do you look +so glum?'</p> + +<p class="normal">For Wogan had gently disengaged himself from Mr. Talbot's embrace, who +exhaled a perfume of wine and strong waters.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Crow, you fool, be quiet,' said Wogan; 'this is miching mallecho! Who +wrote that rant?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'We think it is Lady Mary Montagu, from the Latin tags; it is headed +<i>Cedat Armis Toga</i>.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Lady Mary was not the writer, though she got the credit of the +mischievous nonsense, as was intended, and 'hence these tears,' as the +Parson said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had snatched the ballad into his hands by this time, where +he intended to keep it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Gentlemen,' he asked, 'are you entirely sober?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Does my speech betray me? 'said Tyrell, who, to do him justice, was +wholly in his right mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is no answer; but, if it were, and if you don't care for a +lady's name--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She jilted the Parson!' cried the Crow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Have you no thought of the reputation of--Mr. Farmer?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Farmer?' exclaimed Tyrell. Mr. Farmer was the cant name for the +Chevalier, and Tyrell scratched his head, wondering what on earth the +Chevalier had to do in the same galley with the Parson's love affairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Farmer!' replied the Crow, blinking his eyes reproachfully. +'Indeed, it is yourself has been drinking, Nick. What has the ballad +of poor George's misfortune to do with Mr. Farmer, a gentleman of +unbleb--upblem--I repeat, sir,' said the Crow with solemnity, 'a +gentleman of unblemished reputation?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mark how a long word trips you up, and the evening so young!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Farmer's health! I buzz the bottle!' cried the Crow, putting out +his hand to the bottle, that was nearly empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan stopped his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I tell you, Crow, the Affair hangs on your nonsense. We may all hang +for it,' he said in a certain tone of voice, which made Tyrell open +his mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan read through the ballad, which was full of insults enough to +drive any woman mad, let alone Lady Oxford. He knew what a woman wild +with anger can do, and blessed his stars that for so many months her +Ladyship had not met Kelly, and could know nothing of the inner plot +for an immediate rising. Still, she knew enough to do a power of +mischief. The ballad was written in a feigned hand, which Wogan did +not know.</p> + +<p class="normal">'James,' he said to Talbot,' where did you get this thing? You are not +haunting the fine ladies who pass these wares about? Where did you get +it?' he said, shaking the Crow, who had fallen half asleep, as he +spoke.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Got it from my friend Mr. Pope,' answered the Crow drowsily.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You got it from Mr. Pope! <i>You!</i> Where did you meet Mr. Pope?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'At the Little Fox under the Hill, down by the water.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This tavern was precisely the shyest meeting-place of the party, where +the smugglers came to arrange crossings and receive letters.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Alexander Pope at the Fox under the Hill! Crow, you are raving! +What kind of man is your friend Mr. Pope?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who's Mr. Pope? Don't know the gentleman. Hear he's poet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The gentleman who gave you the ballad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Didn't say Pope, said Scrotton,' answered the Crow. 'Very honest man, +my friend Mr. Scrotton. Met him often. Exshlent judge of wine, Mr. +Scrotton. Exshlent judge of plots. Mr. Scrotton applauded our scheme.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You told him about it? What plot did you tell him of? Not of the +rising? Not of this immediate Blow? Crow, you should be shot!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I told him! You inshult me, sir. Very good plot, very good wine. Mr. +Scrotton told me about plot. Often talked it over a bottle. I'm a most +cautious man. I don't drink except with very honest men. Dangerous!' +murmured the Crow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are sure his name is Scrotton?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Quite certain. Said "Pope" because of poetry. Soshiation of ideas. +Mr. Pope's poet. You'd know that, but you are drunk, Mr. Wogan.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was nothing more to be got out of the Crow. Invited to give a +personal description of Mr. Scrotton, he fell back on his moral +character as 'a very honest man.' He might be, or, again, he might be +a spy. In any case, here was the ballad, and there was the furious +woman ready for any revenge.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Go home; go to bed! Tyrell and I will walk with you to your rooms,' +said Mr. Wogan, who, stepping to the letter-rack, picked up an epistle +for Mr. Hilton. The handwriting of the superscription made him look so +blank that the others noticed his face and were silent. The letter was +in Lady Oxford's hand. He put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">They led the Crow to his door in Germain Street. He behaved pretty +well on the whole, only insisting that his fortune would be made if +Wogan would but give him the ballad and let him sing it at the corner +of St. James's.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Affluence would be mine,' he said, and dropped a tear. 'Oh, +Wilton--Hogan, I would say--'tis a golden opportunity!'</p> + +<p class="normal">But if the opportunity was golden, Wogan was of iron, and they did not +leave the debased Crow till he slept in the sheets, which on the night +before it was probable that his limbs had never pressed.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the Crow was slumbering like a babe, Mr. Wogan and Tyrell stepped +out, turning the key of his chamber on the outside and entrusting it +to his landlady.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Talbot has a fever,' Wogan told her, 'and will see nobody. He +must on no account see anyone except Mr. Tyrell, nor must he be +disturbed before his physician calls.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Accompanied by the gift of a crown, the key was pocketed by the woman +of the house, who expressed anxiety for the health and repose of so +quiet a gentleman as Mr. Talbot.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And now, what is all this pother about?' Tyrell asked when they were +got into the street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Come towards the Park and I will instruct you. I need quiet for +thought, and sylvan repose. What have you been doing all day?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Watching the Crow play the fool at Burton's.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have no news?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have seen nobody.'</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked for a hundred yards or so in silence, Wogan frowning, and +Tyrell much perturbed with Wogan's perturbation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The new ballad is a true ballad,' said Wogan after a pause.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Devil a doubt of it; but what then?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The greater the truth, the greater the libel.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Et après?</i>'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the greater is the rage of the libelled. This ballad must have +run through all the boudoirs before it reached the Crow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And yet I do not smoke you. Where does this touch the affair?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The lady that's libelled knew George very well.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Tyrell nodded his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George knew everything,' continued Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Tyrell stopped and caught Wogan by the elbow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then, what George knew the lady knows?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No. Thank God, she knows nothing of what is immediately intended. It +is a year and more since George and she have spoken. She knows nothing +of the Blow. But she knows the men who are directing it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'May be she's staunch,' said Tyrell.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan quoted Lady Mary:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Politics are nothing more to her than pawns in the game of love.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The two men stood looking at each other for a moment. The matter was +too serious for them even to swear. Then they walked on again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Do you think,' asked Nick, 'she will be in the best of tempers when +she hears she is sung about in coffee-houses? Do you think she will +blame anybody but Kelly for blabbing? She will give the ballad to Lady +Mary Wortley Montagu, and isn't Kelly of Lady Mary's friends? No, he +did not blab, but never mind. She will think he did. And do you know +that she is a kinswoman of the minister, Mr. Walpole? Let her say a +word, and she <i>will</i> say it, and where is Mr. Farmer's affair?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Where the Elector's hat and wig often are--in the fire,' answered +Tyrell, looking serious enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That letter which I took up was from her; I know her hand. She is +stirring.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan opened the scented letter as he walked. It was but to say that +Lady Oxford had heard that Mr. Hilton was in town, and begged the +favour of his company at her rout that night.</p> + +<p class="normal">He told Tyrell what there was to tell, both of them looking very +unlike a May sunset as they walked under the trees. Since he left +Brampton Bryan, Mr. Wogan had not been favoured with any compliments +from Lady Oxford. Why did she begin her favours to-day?</p> + +<p class="normal">'She is stirring,' he said again.</p> + +<p class="normal">By this time they were got within the Park.</p> + +<p class="normal">There much was stirring. Carts were streaming in and out with soldiers +driving, soldiers lounging among the burdens of planks, tents, picks, +and spades. Beside the Walnut Walk soldiers in their shirt sleeves +were digging, trenching, measuring; a child could see what was +toward--they were meting out a camp.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan looked at Mr. Tyrell, Mr. Tyrell looked at Mr. Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The lady <i>has</i> stirred,' said Tyrell in dismay. 'And what is more she +knows of the Blow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Or Mr. Scrotton is not a very honest man,' said Wogan, and whistled +"Lilliburlero." He was disposed on the whole to agree with Tyrell. +Somehow Lady Oxford had got news of the inner plot; perhaps through +this mysterious Mr. Scrotton.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Walnut Walk was all astir and agape with evening loungers; it +hummed with gossip. The two gentlemen went to the Cake House, sat +down, and called for glasses of ratafia. Studying the face of Mr. +Tyrell, of which his own was no doubt the very likeness, Mr. Wogan +inferred that they needed this refreshment.</p> + +<p class="normal">They listened, with conscious grins of innocence, to the talk at the +tables, being a little comforted to hear many questions, but no +certain answers. The soldiers, it seems, being asked, could or would +give no answer but that they had orders to make a camp. Fair ladies, +smiling on private men, could get no other reply. It might be only for +practice. It might be that the French were expected. Mr. Wogan +heartily wished that they were, but nobody was expected, so far as he +knew, save these same ragged regiments of his countrymen with the +Duke. And, lo! a welcome was being got ready for them. As for the +regiment that had been tampered with in the Tower, they were pitching +tents in the Park. The two gentlemen, who had been conversing on faro +and Newmarket, and laying each other fantastic odds, arose and walked +eastwards.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I think the air of the waterside would be wholesome,' remarked Mr. +Tyrell.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have to see a friend,' said Mr. Wogan, and they shook hands and +parted.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will warn the Crow to be on the wing?' said Wogan over his +shoulder, and the other nodded. Mr. Wogan could not but smile to think +of the Crow winging an unsteady flight across the Channel. He managed +to steer across, after all, thanks to Tyrell. Then Wogan read Lady +Oxford's <i>billet</i> again, and he walked to Bury Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">He knocked, and the door was opened by Mrs. Barnes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson at home?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would appear, Mr. Hilton, that I did not give satisfaction,' said +Mrs. Barnes, whose aspect was of a severity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Give satisfaction?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Kelly has thought to better himself, and if he prefers +bed-fellows such as shall be nameless, and the coals disappearing, and +his letters pryed into, and if he thinks that I ever mention my +gentlemen's affairs...!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here Mrs. Barnes threw her apron over her head, but gulps of +lamentation escaped aloud, though her emotion was veiled like that of +the Greek gentleman in the picture.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was not unpractised in the art of consoling Mrs. Barnes. He +led her within, she was slowly induced to unshroud her pleasing +features, and, at last, revealed the strange circumstance that Kelly +had left her rooms two days before without giving in any sound +justifying plea for this treason. Mr. Wogan, who was well aware of +Mrs. Barnes's curiosity and the fluency of her tongue, was in no doubt +as to the cause which had led the Parson to leave her, and thought the +step in this posture of their affairs altogether prudent.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he will return,' he reassured her. 'What!--you know Mr. Johnson, +he will never desert you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'So he said. He would come back in a month, and paid in advance to +reserve the rooms, but it would seem that I do not give satisfaction. +And here's all his letters to all manner of names. Look at them! Look +at them! And how many of them are signed Ugus? Oh, I know what that +will end in, and I'm just going to send the girl round with them--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll carry them myself, Mrs. Barnes,' said Wogan, interrupting her. +He picked up the letters from the table, and glanced about the room, +if by chance Mr. Kelly had left anything inconvenient behind him. But, +except the letters, there was not so much as a scrap of paper about to +show that ever he had lodged there. Wogan looked at the scrutoire on +which the strong-box he had given to his friend at Paris was used to +rest. It had held Lady Oxford's letters in the old days, but of late +it had lain unused, and the dust had gathered thick upon the lid, so +that in his haste the Parson might well have forgotten it. But he had +carried it away, and with it his big Bible, which had stood beside it +in such an incongruous juxtaposition.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll carry them myself,' said Wogan, and putting the letters in his +pocket he went down the steps. He marched some twenty yards down the +street and then came to a stop. He looked round. Mrs. Barnes was +watching him from the doorway with as grim a smile as her cheery face +could compass.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, my dear woman, where will I carry them to? 'asks Wogan, coming +back.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's it,' cried she with a triumphant toss of her head. 'One minute +Mrs. Barnes is a tattling, troublesome woman, and, if you please, +we'll not take so much trouble as to say good-bye to her, and the next +it's Mrs. Barnes that must help us, and tell us where we are to go. +Mr. Johnson lodges at Mrs. Kilburne's in Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mrs. Kilburne's! Why, she's your bosom friend, Mrs. Barnes.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was a trifle surprised that the Parson should leave Mrs. +Barnes because of her curiosity and take a lodging with Mrs. Barnes's +bosom friend, who, to tell the truth, was no less of a gossip.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' said Mrs. Barnes, firing up. 'D'ye think I would let him go to +those I know nothing of, who would rob him and starve him of his last +crust of bread. No, for all that he scorns and despises me! No, he +asked me where he should go and I told him to Mrs. Kilburne.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, he asked you,' said Wogan. 'Well, it is a very Irish proceeding. +I'll go to Mrs. Kilburne's and find him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You may go to Mrs. Kilburne,' said she as Wogan turned away, 'but as +to finding him,' and she shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, what do you mean?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A man in that moppet's livery, for moppet she is, my Lady or not my +Lady, brought a note yesterday and he that had been hiding from her, +like the honest man he used to be before she came trapesing after +him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A note? Was it anything like this?' asked Wogan, pulling from his +pocket his own invitation to Lady Oxford's rout.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was very like that,' said Mrs. Barnes. 'I sent the fellow on with +the scented thing.'</p> + +<p class="normal">A note from Lady Oxford to George, an heroic epistle from Ariadne to +Theseus! An invitation too! Ariadne invites Theseus to her rout, and +for something more, conjectured Wogan, than the pleasure of winning +his money at cards. Wogan's anxiety concerning Lady Oxford's attitude +was much increased. There was the ballad, the camp in Hyde Park, there +were the letters of invitation. Mr. Wogan thought it high time to see +Theseus, and leaving Mrs. Barnes with a becoming blush on her features +that laughed through their tears, he walked to Ryder Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan knocked at the door in the deepening dusk. The landlady +opened. She knew Wogan, who, indeed, had occupied her chambers at one +time. She smiled all over her jolly face:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton! Taller than ever, and welcome as ever.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Thank you, Mrs. Kilburne, I shall soon rival the Monument, but I can +still get under your lintel by stooping. Where is Mr. Johnson?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson? Oh, sir, what a life that poor gentleman lives. Out all +night, home in the morning with mud or dust on him to the shoulder, +and so to bed all day.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then Mr. Johnson must be wakened. I can do it, were he one of the +seven sleepers. George!' cried Mr. Wogan, lifting up his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, sir, be quiet! A very dainty gentleman has my first floor, and he +will be complaining of the noise. You always were that noisy, Mr. +Hilton!' She walked down the passage as she spoke and threw open a +door upon the right. 'Mr. Johnson, he has my ground floor, but you +can't waken him, loud as you are, nor any man, so be quiet, Mr. +Hilton.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Have I to weep for my poor friend's decease?' asked Wogan, as he +entered the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, sir, or I would not be laughing at your nonsense.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no doubt this was the Parson's lodging. For as Wogan stood +just within the door, he saw by the window Mr. Kelly's scrutoire. It +was the first thing indeed on which his eyes fell. He stepped across +the room and threw open the lid. He saw a dispatch-box, and from the +lock he knew it to be that in which Kelly kept safe the papers of the +Bishop's plot.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So there's another lodger in the house,' said Nick thoughtfully. He +took up the box and tried the lid. It was locked. But Mr. Wogan would +have preferred that the Parson should have kept the papers in the box +which he had given him at Paris, of which the lock was stouter. That +box he saw further back in the scrutoire, half hidden in news-sheets. +But that too he found to be locked, and shaking it in his hand, was +aware that, like the other, it held papers. The lid of the box was +covered with dust, as though it had not been touched for months. Lady +Oxford's letters had been locked up there. No doubt they were there +still. Mr. Wogan wondered for a little at the strange sentiment which +makes a man keep such dead tokens of a dead passion. He put the box +back amongst the news-sheets, and turning to Mrs. Kilburne,</p> + +<p class="normal">'But where is the man?' he cried. 'George!' and he rapped on the table +with his cane.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You can't waken Mr. Johnson,' said Mrs. Kilburne 'because he awoke an +hour ago, and dressed in a hurry, but braver than common, with his +silver-hilted sword, Alençon ruffles, black coat and satin lining, +silver shoulder-knots, and best buckles, and out he goes. He was +summoned by a man in the livery of my Lord, the good Bishop of +Rochester.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you tell him, when he returns, that Mr. Hilton waited on him, +and greatly desires to see him in his best before he goes to bed?' +Wogan pulled the letters from his pocket and laid them on the table +which stood in the centre of the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will, sir, but, if you call again, pray, sir, be very quiet. My +first floor gentleman is such a dainty gentleman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A mouse shall be noisy in comparison. I have a great tenderness, Mrs. +Kilburne, for the nerves of fine gentlemen.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Kilburne grinned in a sceptical sort.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But,' Wogan added suddenly, 'it is very like I shall fall in with Mr. +Johnson before then.' He took some half-a-dozen of the letters again +into his hand and looked them over. They were inscribed to such cant +names as Illington, Hatfield, Johnson, Andrews, and were evidently +dangerous merchandise. Mr. Wogan thought they would be safer in his +pocket than on Mr. Kelly's table. He picked up the rest, but as he put +them back into his pocket, one fell on to the floor. Wogan caught +sight of the handwriting as it fell. Then it stared up at him from the +floor. The letter was written in a woman's hand, which Mr. Wogan was +well enough acquainted with, although it was neither Lady Oxford's nor +the hand of Rose. It was in the handwriting of Lady Mary Wortley +Montagu. Wogan stooped down and picked it up. For a letter, it was +extraordinary light. Wogan weighed it in his hand for a second, +wondering what it might be. However, there was no answer to be got +that way, and Mr. Wogan had weightier matter to engage his thoughts. +He put it into his pocket and marched to his own lodgings, which were +hard by in the same street.</p> + +<p class="normal">Several problems, a swarm of skirmishing doubts, trooped through his +mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What did my Lady Oxford mean by writing to Kelly?'</p> + +<p class="normal">To this Wogan answered that she meant the same thing by Kelly as by +himself, and for some reason had bidden him to her rout. As to her +motive for that act of unexpected hospitality, Wogan had his own +thoughts, which he afterwards confided to his friend. 'But who,' he +pondered, 'can answer for a woman's motives when the devil of +perversity sits at her elbow?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Next, why had Kelly made himself such a beau? It could not be merely +to do honour to a mourning prelate who would never glance at his +secretary's satin and point d'Alençon.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan inferred that his first guess was right, that Lady Oxford +had bidden Kelly to her rout, and that, by the token of his raiment, +Mr. Kelly meant to accept the invitation.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly knew nothing of the camp, and the discovery which it seemed to +speak of, when he left the lodgings where he had slept all day. Of the +ballad, too, it was like that Kelly knew nothing, and, in Wogan's +opinion, the ballad was the cause of the military stir. Lady Oxford, +inflamed with anger, blaming Lady Mary for the ballad, and blaming +Kelly for blabbing her fault to her enemy, Lady Mary; had doubtless +visited Mr. Walpole. The innocent Kelly, innocent of all these things, +would be going to Lady Oxford's to fathom the causes of her renewed +friendship.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan puzzled his brains over these matters while he supped in +solitude at his lodgings. His friends have hinted that his mental +furnishing is not in a concatenation with his bodily stature. He has +answered that, if it were so, he would be Shakespeare and the Duke of +Marlborough rolled into one. Though refreshed with Burgundy, his head +felt weary enough when he turned to the question, 'What was he, Wogan, +to do next?' In his opinion, the boldest plan is ever the best; +moreover, he had a notion that there was no safer place in London for +him, that night, and perhaps for Mr. Kelly, than Queen's Square in +Westminster which Lady Oxford had taken for a permanence. For +if Lady Oxford had blabbed, the last place in London where the +Messengers would be like to look for the Parson was her ladyship's +withdrawing-room. Unless of course she was laying a trap, which did +not seem likely. In the face of this new ballad, Lady Oxford would not +dare to have the Parson arrested within, or even near her house. It +would provoke too great a scandal. He decided, therefore, first to go +to the Dean's house, at Westminster, where the Bishop of Rochester +stayed, see Mr. Kelly, if he could, and unfold his parcel of black +news. Next, he would take Kelly to Lady Oxford's, if Kelly would come, +for Wogan not only deemed this step the safest of his dangers, but +expected to enjoy a certain novelty of the emotions, in which he was +not disappointed. He therefore, imitating the clerical example, began +to decorate himself in his most seductive shoulder knots to do honour +to Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">It may be that Wogan's mind, already crowded by a number of +occurrences and dubitations, had exhausted its logical powers, for +there was one idea which should have occurred to him earliest, and +which only visited him while he was shaving. Who was the first person +he was likely to encounter at Lady Oxford's? Why, the very last person +whom at this juncture it was convenient for him to meet--namely, +Colonel Montague. Wogan heartily wished he had left the Colonel +between two fires at Preston barricade. But now there was no help for +it, go he must. The Colonel, like other people, might not remember the +boy in the man and under a new name, or, if he did--and then a fresh +idea occurred to Wogan which made him smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I was born,' he said, 'to be a lightning conductor!'</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">AT THE DEANERY OF WESTMINSTER</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Wogan finished the work of adorning his person, and stepped into the +street. The night was serene, with a full moon, the air still, the +pavements were clean as the deck of his ketch. He thought that he +would walk from his rooms to the Dean's by way of St. James's Park, +and consequently he passed through Ryder St. and in front of Mr. +Kelly's new lodgings. Just as he came to Mr. Kelly's lodgings, the +door opened. A gentleman came forth; the moonlight was full on his +face. Mr. Wogan muffled his face in his cloak, and stepped stealthily +back.</p> + +<p class="normal">The gentleman was Colonel Montague. He bade the chairmen carry him to +Queen's Square; Mr. Wogan heard the word of command with an +inexpressible confusion of dismay. He had hardened his heart to +encounter the enemy whose life, in a youthful indiscretion, he had +saved at the risk of his own, but what was the Colonel doing in +Kelly's lodgings?</p> + +<p class="normal">By this time the warrior and his chair had turned the corner, and Mr. +Wogan abandoned himself to meditation. Up and down Ryder Street he +paced, puzzling over the Colonel's visit to Kelly, whom, at all +events, he could not have found at home. Was he Was he carrying a +cartel to his predecessor in Lady Oxford's heart? In that case it was +all the more necessary to meet him and play the part of Dr. Franklin's +kite, which had not at that time been flown, but is now making talk +enough for the learned. On this point Mr. Wogan's mind was constant. +Should he question Mrs. Kilburne, he asked himself? Mr. Wogan crossed +the road. But the Colonel was little likely to have told her a word of +his business. Mr. Wogan stopped.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was another point: for whatever reason the Colonel had called at +George's lodgings, George must be told of the visit. Here was +something which pressed, without question. Mr. Wogan marched towards +the Dean's house in Westminster, where the Bishop of Rochester lay. He +knew the road very well, being himself an old Westminster boy. It was +but seven years since he had run away to join his brother Charles and +raise the North for King James. He could not tell, at this moment, +whether he had deserted his studies for King James's sake, or to +escape his dull task of writing out my Lord Clarendon's weary history +in a fair hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he entered the precincts, Wogan felt much like a truant boy, and it +was as if Time had stood still while <i>he</i> ran. Nothing was changed, +except that the new dormitory, which Bishop Atterbury had just built, +shone white among the black old stones. There were lights in the +windows that suddenly went out: the lads were abed. Wogan looked up at +the blank windows, and thought of seven years agone, and of his life +since then, an unprofitable contemplation, which his mind gladly +deserted. He marched up under the arch, through the darkling cloister, +and tapped, gently but firmly, at the Dean's door. He must see Mr. +Kelly. As it chanced, and by the merest accident in the world, Wogan +timed his taps thus: 1--2, 3, 4, 5, 6--7.</p> + +<p class="normal">There were stealthy steps within, with a movement of yellow light, and +then a voice that Mr. Wogan knew very well came through a judas.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is it my father's knock?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is it your granny's knock, Sam?' asked Wogan through the judas. The +voice was that of Sam Wesley, a young usher in Wogan's time, one whom +he had always liked and tormented.</p> + +<p class="normal">The steps moved away, and the light.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sam!' whispered Mr. Wogan, very loud for a whisper, through the +judas. 'Sam, you remember me. Nick Wogan.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The steps were silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sam, remember Lord Clarendon! Remember Nick, who kicked the bully for +beating your little brother Jack.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The steps shuffled back to the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have not the password,' said the voice through the judas.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Damn the password,' whispered Wogan. 'I want George Kelly. I must see +him in the name of the Blackbird. Hawks are abroad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is clean against all rules,' came the voice from within.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Open, in the name of the cobbler's wax I once put on your chair, or +I'll break the windows. You know me, Sam!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wesley knew Mr. Wogan. He undid the lock, Mr. Wogan smuggled +himself within, and nearly choked Mr. Wesley in his embrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a giant!' said Mr. Wesley, putting up his candle to Wogan's +face. The wind blew on the light that flickered in the absolute +darkness, all the house being hung with black for Mrs. Atterbury's +death.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A son of Anak, Sam, who would have battered down your old door in a +minute.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I verily believe you would, Nick,' said Sam, leading the way up the +black stairs to a den of his own, where he was within call of the +Bishop. On tiptoe he marched, placing his finger on his lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they were got among Sam's books and papers of the boys' +exercises, the usher said, 'It is a very extraordinary thing, purely a +Providence.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I deserve one; the purity of my life deserves one,' said Mr. Wogan. +'But wherein do you see the marvel?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You did not know it, but you gave my father's knock,' said Sam +in a voice of awe. 'It is Old Jeffrey's doing--directed, of +course--directed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Old Jeffrey? Is it a cant name for an honest man?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'For a very honest spirit,' said the usher, and explained to Mr. Wogan +that the particular knock and the passwords to follow (which Mr. Wogan +did not know) were his own invention. His father's house at Epworth, +in the year 1716, had been troubled, it seems, by an honest goblin +that always thumped and routed with a particular malevolence when the +Elector was prayed for as 'the King.' Old Mr. Wesley's pet knock, +though, the sprite could not deliver. Mr. Wesley had a conceit that +the goblin might be the ghost of some good fellow who died at Preston.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He keeps his politics in the next world,' said Mr. Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wit might say much on that head, wisdom little,' whispered the usher, +wagging his kind head. 'You have special business with Mr. Johnson?' +he asked. 'He is with my Lord, hard by. The Bishop's voice was raised +when Mr. Johnson entered. I caught angry words, but now for long they +have been quiet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson has a way with him,' said Wogan, who had learned from +Goring that the reverend Father in God was of a hasty temper. 'How +doth his Lordship?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very badly. I never saw him in a less apostolic humour. I know not +what ill news he has had from France, or elsewhere, but he has been +much troubled about Mr. Johnson's dog, Harlequin. The poodle has been +conveyed out of town as craftily as if he were the Chevalier, I know +not why, and is now skulking in the country, I know not where.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was, indeed, Mr. Wesley's part to know nothing. He was the Bishop's +man, and as honest as the day, but had no more enterprise than another +usher.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan, he has said, knew Harlequin, second of that name, and had seen +him coddled by Mrs. Barnes. He was cudgelling his brains for +Harlequin's part in the Great Affair, when a silver whistle sounded, +thin and clear.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wesley beckoned to Wogan to be still, crept out of the room, and +returned on tiptoe with Kelly. The Parson's elegant dress was a trifle +disarranged; his face and hands were somewhat stained and blackened as +with smoke, but the careful man had tucked up his Alençon ruffles +beneath his sleeves. On seeing Wogan George opened his eyes and his +mouth, but spoke never a word. He carried a soft bundle wrapped in a +tablecloth, and when the door was shut he handed this to Mr. Wesley.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have the key of the Dean's garden?' he whispered.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes; but wherefore?' answered Sam.</p> + +<p class="normal">'His Lordship bids me ask you to have the kindness to bury the +contents of this--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know not what is in the bundle,' said Mr. Wesley, with an air of +alarm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And you need not be told,' said George. 'But can you let me and my +friend Mr. Hilton--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton?' gasped Sam, as Kelly put his hand out to Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I must present you to Mr. Hilton,' George said, and Wogan bowed and +grinned.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I was about to entreat you, Mr. Wesley, while you are playing the +sexton, to permit me and Mr. Hilton the convenience of a few moments +of privacy in your chamber.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'With all my heart,' said the puzzled Sam, hospitably opening a +cupboard in his bookcase, whence he lugged out glasses and a bottle of +Florence. Then he put list shoes over his own, and stole forth on his +errand like a clerical cat.</p> + +<p class="normal">All this while Wogan had said not one word to Kelly, nor Kelly to +Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had sat down to sample the bottle, and Kelly stared at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'How did you make your way in here?' he asked at length.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Old Jeffrey,' said Wogan airily. 'I drink Old Jeffrey's health, +wherever he is.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I believe you are the devil himself. That password is known to no +mortal but Mr. Wesley and me. The Bishop does not know it. His +servants never see me come or go--only Sam. Whence got you the word?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan very gently tapped 1--2, 3, 4, 5, 6--7 on the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know many things,' he said. 'But, George, what do <i>you</i> know?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know you should be aboard, Nick, and down to the waterside you step +from this house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am already promised,' said Mr. Wogan with an air of fashion. 'I sup +with Lady Oxford.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are mad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, <i>you</i> are mad. I know many things. When you were carried hither +in your chair, you knew nothing. George, what did the Bishop tell you? +Why was he wroth with you? In brief, George, what do you know?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Bishop angry with me! Nick, you know too much. You are the +devil.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I want to know a great deal more. Come, unpack, and then it is my +turn. But first step into Mr. Wesley's bedchamber and wash these +hands, which go very ill with silver shoulder-knots; and pour the +blackened water out of window. Any man or messenger could see that you +have been burning a mort of papers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly hastily adopted Mr. Wogan's precautions. When he entered the +room again the conspirator had vanished, the clerical beau remained.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now,' said Wogan, 'you are fit to carry out your worldly design of +pleasure, and I shall not be ashamed to sup in your company at Lady +Oxford's.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have changed my mind; I shall not go. But, Nick, how did you know +my mind? 'Twas the last of minds you expected to take me in.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am the devil. Have you not guessed it yourself?' replied Mr. Wogan, +who was enjoying himself hugely. Perhaps it was the Florence, coming +a-top of the Burgundy. He was quite easy about the discovery. 'But +unpack,' he said. 'What befell you with the Bishop?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He received me oddly. The room was as dark as a wolf's mouth, being +hung with black bombazine. There was a low fire in a brazier, that +shone red on his Lordship's polished poll, for he wore no perruque. +His eyes blazed, his teeth grinned white. I was put in mind of a +fierce old black panther in the French King's gardens.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Remote from the apostolic,' said Mr. Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So were his first words,' said Kelly:</p> + +<p class="normal">'"You Irish dog, come here!" quoth the Bishop.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I offered a conjecture that, in the mournful light, his Lordship did +not precisely see whom he was addressing. On that the little old man +sprang out at me, seized me by the collar, and then fell back on his +couch with a groan that was a curse. I put a cordial that stood by him +to his lips, and was about to call Mr. Wesley, when he forbade me with +his eyebrows, and cried:</p> + +<p class="normal">'"Answer me this question before we part for ever. Did you despatch my +letters of April 20 to the King and the others?"</p> + +<p class="normal">'"My Lord," I said, "my duty to you ended with that episcopal laying +on of hands, and with that expression which you were pleased to use +when I entered."</p> + +<p class="normal">'He groaned, and said:</p> + +<p class="normal">'"I apologise. I am mad with pain" (which was plainly true), "and +grief, and treachery. I beg your pardon, Mr. Kelly, as a Christian and +a sick old man."</p> + +<p class="normal">'"My Lord, you honour me. I enclosed the letters, as you directed, in +a packet addressed to Mr. Gordon, the banker in Boulogne, and I sent +them by the common post, your Lordship not having forbidden the +ordinary course."</p> + +<p class="normal">'"Then, damn it, sir, you have ruined us!" said the sick old +Christian. "Did I not bid you write to Dillon that nothing of +importance should go by the post?"</p> + +<p class="normal">'"But your Lordship did not seem to reckon these letters of +importance, for you did not discharge me from sending them in the +common course."</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Bishop groaned again more than once, and there was a whole +Commination Service in the sounds. You know Harlequin, Wogan?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan nodded and wondered.</p> + +<p class="normal">''Tis Harlequin has ruined us,' said Kelly; 'Harlequin and the Duke of +Mar.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am devilish glad to hear it,' said Mr. Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Glad to hear it!' exclaimed Kelly, rising from his chair. 'You are +told of the discovery of the Great Affair, and the probable ruin of +the Cause, and the danger of your friends and yourself, and you are +glad to hear it!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, I am,' replied Wogan easily, 'for I knew of the discovery +before you told me, but I put it down to a lady of your acquaintance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson very slowly sat himself down again on his chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In Heaven's name, why?' he asked, with a certain suspense.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Tell your tale first, then I'll tell mine. This is very excellent +Florence.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The tale is too long, but the short of it is this: The Bishop had by +him a letter of Mar's, dated May 11, in which Mar, addressing the +Bishop as Illington, denounced him as plainly to anyone who read the +piece as if he had used the Bishop's own style and title. He condoled +on Mrs. Illington's recent death, he referred to Mr. Illington's high +place in the Church, and to his gout. The three circumstances combined +left no doubt as to who Illington is. There was no need such a letter +of pure compliment should be written at all, except for the purpose of +being opened in the post, and fixing the Bishop as Illington. Then,' +Kelly went on, 'I remembered a letter of Mar to myself, of last week, +in which he spoke of the dog Harlequin as Mrs. Illington's. If these +letters were opened in the post,--and the Bishop knows for certain +that they were opened,--a blind man could see that Rochester and +Illington are the same man, and own the same dog. The beast saved my +life, but he has lost the Cause,' said Kelly with a sigh. 'Mar has +sold us. It is known he holds a pension from the Elector. The Bishop +knows it in a roundabout way, through Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and +so the Bishop and I have burned his papers in the brazier. Sam is +interring their ashes in the garden.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan poured out another glass of Florence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Was there anything very pressing in these same letters of April 20, +George? Was there anything to put fear on the Elector's Ministers? Did +they say, for instance, that the Blow was to be dealt, you and I know +when?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not a word of that,' replied Kelly, and his face lightened. On the +other hand, Wogan's fell, which Kelly no doubt remarked, for he +continued eagerly, 'D'ye see, there is a chance still, for the Cause, +for us, if the Blow be struck quickly. We must strike quickly. So may +we retrieve Mar's treachery. The Bishop in his letter made excuses to +the King for the delay of any blow. He is not in favour of anything +immediate, and in the letters he made his disposition plain. The +letters only compromised his Lordship in general, they did not +reveal--the Blow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan, however, only shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">''Faith, now, I'm sorry to hear that,' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are glad and sorry on very strange occasions,' said Kelly, +sourly. 'First you are pleased that Mar sold us, and then you are +displeased that he did not sell the last secret.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan leaned his elbows on the table, and bent across towards his +friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am sorry because the last secret has been sold, and it was not Mar +that sold it. Therefore somebody else sold it; therefore I am at the +pain of being obliged to suspect a lady who probably knows her late +lover's cypher.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly blanched.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And how do you know that the last secret is sold?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'As any man would know who had not lain abed all the day. George, the +Park is full of soldiers. The Tower regiment that we thought Layer had +bought is there with the rest under canvas. Ministers would not make +an encampment in the Park because they knew that the Bishop had +advised the King that nothing was to be done. Therefore Mar is not the +only traitor.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And why should my Lady Oxford be the Judas?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mainly to punish a certain nonjuring clergyman, for whose sake she is +the burden of a ballad, and sung of in coffee-houses.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A ballad? Of what sort?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Of the sort that makes a good whipping-post for a fine lady. Ridicule +is the whip, and, by the Lord, it is laid on unsparingly. Perhaps you +would like to hear it,' and Mr. Wogan recited, in a whisper, so much +of the poem as he judged proper. It closed thus:--</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8pt"> +'Oh, happy to my rhymes,</p> +<p class="t1">Consoled for all his woes,</p> +<p class="t0">The Parson flies to foreign climes,</p> +<p class="t1">And dwells--beneath the Rose!'</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly swore an oath and took a turn across the room. He came to a +stop in front of Sam's bookcase. 'Rose,' said he, in a voice of +tenderness, 'sure they might have left the little girl out of it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The barb was venomed, you see,' said Mr. Wogan. 'It was not enough to +make a scoff of the lady. She must be stripped of that last +consolation, the belief that the discarded Parson wastes in despair. +Now she knows that the Parson is consoled. There was spark to powder. +The Parson may be putting on flesh. There's an insult to her beauty. +Faith, but she must feel it in her marrow, since she risks her Lord's +neck for the pleasure of requiting it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Kelly, 'she could do what she would, for her Lord's neck is +not in this noose. Oxford had withdrawn before.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This was news to Mr. Wogan, who had been concerned only with the +actual plan of attack, and sufficiently concerned to have no mind for +other matters.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oxford withdrawn,' he cried rising and coming across to the Parson. +'Damn him, 'twas pure folly to trust him. Do you remember what Law +said that night in Paris? He would trust him no further than he would +trust a Norfolk attorney.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly was silent for a moment, thoughtfully drawing a finger to and +fro across the backs of Sam's books.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have good reason to remember that night,' he said very sadly. 'Have +you forgotten what I said? "May nothing come between the Cause and +me!" Why, it seems the Cause goes down because of me, and with the +Cause my friends, and with my friends, Rose.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had no word to say. Whatever excuses rose to his tongue +seemed too trivial for utterance.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly's finger stopped on one particular book, travelled away and came +back to it. Wogan saw that the book was a Bible. The Parson took it +from the shelf and turning over the leaves read a line here and there. +Wogan knew very well what was passing through his mind. His thoughts +had gone back to the little country parsonage and the quiet life with +no weightier matter to disturb it than the trifling squabbles of his +parish.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You warned me, Nick,' he said, 'you warned me. But I was a fool and +would not heed. Read that!' and with a bitter sort of laugh he handed +the open Bible to Mr. Wogan, pointing to a verse. 'There's a text for +the preacher.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Bible was open at the Book of Proverbs, and Mr. Wogan read. 'The +lips of a strange woman drop as a honey-comb and her mouth is smoother +than oil. But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged +sword. Her feet go down to death. Her steps take hold on hell.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan read the text aloud.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The strange woman, Nick,' said Kelly, 'the strange woman,' and then +in a fierce outburst, 'If I live the man who wrote that ballad shall +rue it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'They give it to Lady Mary.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She never wrote it. Nick, who wrote the ballad? How did you get hold +of it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I found the Crow, quite tipsy, singing it to Tyrell, at Burton's, in +the little room upstairs.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And where did the Crow get the ballad?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is another uncomfortable circumstance. You know Talbot?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'An honest man, and a good officer, at Preston or in Spain, but a +sponge for drink. A pity he was ever let into the plot!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, he got the ballad from someone with whom he had been drinking +at the Little Fox under the Hill, not a fashionable resort.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Did he name his friend?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He was drunk enough to begin by calling him Mr. Pope.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Pope, the poet?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He took that back; and said the poetry put Mr. Pope into his head. +The man's real name, he remembered, was Scrotton. I can't guess who he +was, friend or spy, but we may take it that he knows what the Crow +knows.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Thank God for that!' cried Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You rejoice on very singular occasions, and are grateful for very +small mercies,' said Mr. Wogan, who found it his turn to be surprised. +'What are you so thankful for?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Thankful that a woman need not have done this thing, and that +my folly may not be the cause of this disaster. Another knew +everything--Pope--Scrotton--the ballad! Who wrote the ballad? Who of +our enemies knew a word about Rose? Are you blind? Who was at Avignon, +spying on me, when I first met Rose? Who hates Lady Oxford no less +than he hates me? Whose name was the unhappy tippler trying to +remember? Scrotton? Pope?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Scrope!' cried Wogan, cursing his own stupidity. 'Scrope it must have +been, and the Crow swore that the man told him about the plot, and +often talked it over.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That means, of course, that Scrope made him talk. The old curse of +the Cause, that lost us Edinburgh Castle in the Fifteen, when the +Scots stopped at the tavern to powder their hair. Our curse, Nicholas. +Wine!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And Woman,' Mr. Wogan thought, but George ran on,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Scrope it was who wrote the ballad, for no enemy but Scrope knew what +the writer knew. Lady Mary is a friend. Lady Oxford is innocent, thank +God--I say it with a humble heart--and I am not the cause of the +ruin.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George's eyes shone like those of a man reprieved. Wogan shook his +friend's hand; his own eyes were opened.</p> + +<p class="normal">''Tis you are the devil,' he said. 'Scrope has hit everyone he hates, +and blown up the plot.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'His time will come,' said Kelly; 'but I hear Sam on the stair.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wesley, tapping lightly, entered his room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Gentlemen,' he said, 'the outer door is open.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wesley's anxiety was plainly to be read in his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two gentlemen bade him farewell, with many thanks for his +hospitality. He accompanied them to the door, and they heard the bolt +shot behind them as they stood in the cloister.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Whither should they go?' both men reflected, silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan has remarked on a certain gaiety and easiness of mind caused +on this occasion, he considers, by Mr. Wesley's Florence coming after +his own Burgundy at supper. He was also elated by George's elation, +for to find innocence in one whom he had suspected elevated Mr. +Kelly's disposition. They were betrayed, true, but the bitterness of a +betrayal by the woman he had loved left him the lighter when the +apprehension of it had passed.</p> + +<p class="normal">One little point rankled in Mr. Wogan's mind in spite of all. Why had +Lady Oxford bidden both of them to her rout?</p> + +<p class="normal">He came at an answer by a roundabout road.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I must hurry home and burn my papers,' said Kelly, as soon as they +were out in the cloister, with the door of the Dean's house shut +behind them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan, who had other notions, gripped his arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'By the way, did you burn my lady's invitation to her rout to-night? +What did she say, George? Why did she invite you? And did you burn the +note?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly smote his hand on his brow. 'My wits were wool-gathering.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'On Cupid's hedges,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But I locked the note up.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'With the rest of the lady's letters in my dispatch box?'</p> + +<p class="normal">''Faith, Nick, you are the devil. How did you know that?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, I have divined your amorous use of my box.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But you are wrong. I had the box with the dangerous papers of the +plot open on the table when I was reading the letter. Mrs. Kilburne +knocked at the door. I did not know who it might be. I slipped the +letter in on the top of the papers of the Plot, and locked the box +before I opened the door.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There it remains then? Well, her Ladyship's note is in the better +company. But what did she say? Did she give a reason for your +meeting?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The chief thing, after the usual compliments, was that she had most +important news, that might not be written, to give me about Mr. +Farmer's affairs. Probably she may have had an inkling of the +discovery and wished to warn me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'We must see her,' said Wogan, whose curiosity was on edge from the +first about this party of pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But my papers--I must burn my papers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, you are set, or you are not set. If you had been set the +messengers would have been at your lodgings before I went thither; in +fact, before you were out of bed. Therefore, either you have the whole +night safe or, going home now, you go into a mousetrap, as the French +say, and your papers are the cheese to lure you there. Now, they +cannot know of my lady's invitations, and if they by any accident did +know, a Minister would hardly take a man at a lady's house. That were +an ill use for the hostess.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's true,' said Mr. Kelly, after reflecting. 'Nicholas, I knew not +that you had so much of the syllogism in your composition.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Another thing, and an odd thing enough,' added Wogan. 'Perhaps +nothing is laid against <i>you</i> at all. Did Scrope lay information when +he found us at Brampton Bryan?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No!' cried Kelly. 'And at Avignon, when a proper spy would have +stopped the Duke's gold, he was content with the sword in his own +hand.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Precisely,' said Wogan; 'Scrope has blown the plot, that's business; +but he deals with you himself, that's pleasure. He tried to meet you +at Brampton Bryan--he did not have us laid by the heels. He nearly did +for you at Avignon, while he let the Duke's business alone, quite +content. Now you are alive and he wants a meeting, 'tis clear he did +not inform on you, otherwise the messengers would have been with you +when the soldiers began the camp in the morning. 'Faith, you may meet +Mr. Scrope tonight in St. James's Park. He is a kind of gentleman, Mr. +Scrope! But we must see her ladyship first; sure, nothing's safer.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nicholas, thou reasonest well,' said the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan towed off his prize, and the pair moved out of the dark, +musty cloister into the moonlight.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">MR. WOGAN ACTS AS LIGHTNING-CONDUCTOR +AT LADY OXFORD'S ROUT</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan steered his captive through Petty France. It was about ten +of the clock, a night of moonlight and young spring, a night for poets +to praise and lovers to enjoy. Mr. Wogan was not, at the moment, a +lover, and poetry was out of his mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One trifle I forgot to mention,' he said. 'I saw Montague come out of +your new lodgings this evening. He bade his chairmen go to Queen's +Square.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Montague? How could he know where to look for me? What can he want +with me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I misdoubt he was not very well pleased with the ballad, and would +have you explain it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Montague,' sneered Mr. Kelly, with a touch of temper; 'I am grieved I +missed him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You need not grieve, for you will see him to-night. So there's balm +for your grief, and another reason why you should sup with Lady +Oxford.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson stepped out more briskly after that, and Wogan could not +refrain from remarking upon his new alacrity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is after all a very human sort of a world, as worlds go,' said he. +'Here's a man with all his hopes crumbling to grave-dust about him, +and the mere prospect of a quarrel with another man whom he has never +spoken to, on account of a woman he has a great contempt for, will +make all his blood flow quicker.' For it was evident that, though the +Parson no longer cared a straw for Smilinda's favours, he had not +forgiven the man who had supplanted him in them.</p> + +<p class="normal">At the further end of the street along which they walked, one house +threw out into the night a great blaze of light, and a noise of many +voices. As Wogan perceived it, a certain improvement upon his plan +came into his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George,' said he, as he directed his captive towards the house, 'will +you resolve me a theological quandary? Do the doctors of your sect +consider as binding a promise given to a person of a different faith?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Assuredly they do,' cried Kelly. 'Dr. Hooker plainly writes--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall take your word for it, without Hooker's bond. Next, does your +Reverence reckon it immoral to shake an elbow on occasion?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Even the very Puritans, at the height of their power, doubted if they +could proceed against dicers by way of the greater excommunication. We +read that the Chosen People themselves cast lots--whence I argue for a +permitted latitude.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, then, we are opposite the doors of Le Queux's Temple of Hazard; +you may hear through the windows how the devout are calling the main. +Now I must take your promise, as you say it is binding, to wait here +in obedience to your commanding officer. A wise leader will ever send +out scouts to inspect a dangerous pass. I shall reconnoitre at Lady +Oxford's: proper precautions should never be neglected, even in a +friendly country. If I do not return, or send, in forty minutes by +your watch, you must follow. All will seem safe.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, Nick, what if they take you? Sure we had best go together.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'They will not arrest me alone. You don't loose your gun at a rabbit +when you are stalking a deer. I am not the keeper of secrets, but the +King's mere servant, to give knocks and to take them. I write no +letters, and none write them to me. It is Mr. Johnson they will be +stalking, if anyone at all, never fear, and they will not shoot at the +rabbit whilst Mr. Johnson is out of gunshot. In the meantime, have you +any money?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Just enough to pay my chairmen.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan turned his pockets inside out.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then here are ten guineas. In my belief our luck must be somewhere, +if a man would look for it, and it may very well be lurking in the +cavern of a dice-box. Lose or win, if you hear nothing of me, you +march forwards and occupy Queen's Square in forty minutes. It is ten +o'clock now. And if you do not join me in forty minutes I walk +straight to your lodgings and take my chance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'So be it,' said Kelly, pocketing Mr. Wogan's gold, and stepping +reluctantly into the house of Le Queux. Mr. Wogan waited until the +door closed upon him, and then went on his way alone to Queen's +Square.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had not displayed the whole face of his purpose to the Parson. It +was not merely to reconnoitre that he pushed forward. The Parson might +desire an occasion with the Colonel, but Wogan, for Miss Townley's +sake, meant to meet the Colonel first. Betrothed men should not be +brawlers, and George was hardly a match for the Colonel.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel was not, in the nature of things, likely to feel +well-disposed towards the Parson. The ballad would have turned that +ill-disposition into a genuine hostility. So here was one of the +reasons, besides the wish to reconnoitre, why Wogan left his +friend behind him in Le Queux's gaming-rooms. He would be the +lightning-conductor; he would pick a quarrel with the Colonel before +Mr. Kelly arrived, if by any means that could be brought about.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan stopped in the shadow a few yards from Lady Oxford's house, +and watched. It was a night of triumph for Lady Oxford. A score or so +of link-boys yelled and flashed their torches about the portico; +carriages and chairs pressed towards the door. Gentlemen with stars +upon their velvet coats, and ladies altogether swaddled in lace and +hoops thronged up the steps. But of the possible messengers for whom +Mr. Wogan looked, not one was to be seen in any corner. Timidity +itself might have slept secure. Only a few ragged loiterers stood +about in the roadway on the look-out for a lace handkerchief or a +convenient pocket. Wogan crossed the road and joined the throng upon +the stairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had carried it off boldly enough at the Deanery, and in the street +with Kelly, but, as he walked on alone, the fumes of the Florence wine +escaped from the seat of his reasoning faculties. His logic did not +seem so conclusive, and he felt an ugly double-edge on some of his +arguments. Thus, the plot had certainly been discovered, yet Kelly had +not been pounced upon. This might be a generosity of Mr. Scrope's (who +had behaved as handsomely before), but again, what if Mr. Kelly's +first suspicions were true? What if Lady Oxford had learned something? +What if this rout were intended to enable her to savour her revenge +for the ballad? The thing was not beyond Wogan's power of belief, and +the more he gazed on this perspective, the less he enjoyed it. Under +her roof, however, for the sake of her own credit, Kelly and he must +be safe from arrest. Besides it might be that her Ladyship was +ignorant of the ballad. Reflecting on these doubts, and thankful for +this tender mercy, Wogan's heart was ill at ease, though he put on a +face of brass. The chatter which buzzed at his inattentive ears seemed +the most impertinent thing in the world. At each step a flowered +petticoat swung against his legs, or a fan, held by a hand in a +perfumed glove, knocked against his elbow, and somehow the fine +gentlemen and ladies in their fine clothes seemed to him at that +moment as incongruous as a nightmare. Scraps of gossip of which he +took no note at the time, for no reason whatever stuck in his mind, +and he remembered them quite clearly afterwards; how that Lady +Holderness was sunk in all the joys of love, notwithstanding she +wanted the use of her two hands by a rheumatism; and Mrs. Hervey, +<i>revenue</i> from such bagatelles as honour and reputation, had taken to +herself two most fascinating lovers, and all the envy of her sex. A +shrill lady behind Mr. Wogan's shoulder was proposing a general act +for divorcing all the people of England, so that those who pleased +might marry again, whereby many reputations which stood in dire peril +would be saved from exposure. Mr. Wogan had much ado not to shout +'Hold your tongues, will you? Here, maybe, is life and death in the +balance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He had got about half-way up the stairs when the shrill voice changed +its tune, and now Mr. Wogan pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have heard the new ballad? Oh, the sweetest, most malicious +thing. You must certainly hear it. Smilinda, the Parson, and the +Colonel. You know who Smilinda is? The Parson and the Colonel make a +guess easy.' She quoted a line or two. 'It appears that the Parson has +consoled himself with Rose, and snaps his fingers at Smilinda. Who +wrote it? No one but Smilinda's dear friend, Lady Mary Wortley +Montagu, that I will wager. 'Tis the most ingenious thing; and most +ingeniously given to the town just at the time when it will sting +most. Poor Smilinda.' The voice went off into a giggle, in the midst +of which Mr. Wogan distinguished a name--Lord Sidney Beauclerk's. Mr. +Wogan would hardly have heeded the name had he not heard it again +twice before he reached the stairhead, and each time in that same +conjunction with the Parson and the Colonel, and the malicious aptness +of the ballad. Even then he gave but scanty heed to Lord Sidney +Beauclerk, for the knowledge that the ballad was indeed become the +common talk occupied his thoughts, and so thoroughly, that it was the +nearest thing imaginable but he gave his name as Mr. Wogan to the +lackey who announced him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hilton, however, was announced, and Mr. Hilton stepped through the +great doorway into the room, and made his bow. At the first he was +sensible only of a great blaze of light spotted here and there with +the flames of candles; of a floor polished like a mirror, of a throng +of misty faces, a hubbub of voices, and a gorgeous motley of colours +like the Turkish bazaars Lady Mary was used to describe. Then the +faces grew distinct. Mr. Wogan noticed one or two of the <i>honest</i> +party, who, knowing his incognito, threw a startled glance at him, and +like the rats from the sinking ship, scuttled away as soon as his eyes +met theirs.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked around him for Lady Oxford. He could not see her in the +crowd which ebbed and flowed about the floor. There were card tables +set against the walls; doubtless she would be seated at one of them. +He glanced down the line of tables to his left. He did not see Lady +Oxford, but his attention was seized by one particular table. It stood +empty; a few packs of cards waited upon it for the players to handle, +but by some strange chance it stood empty. It was the one vacant table +in the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was an Irishman, and now and again had his visionary +moments, though he said little about them. As he looked at that one +empty table a queer sort of fancy crept into his head, and, to be +frank, struck something of a chill into his veins. It came upon him +slowly that the table was not in truth empty at all; that in the midst +of this velvet company, all jewels and compliments, there sat at this +table a grey shrouded figure which silently awaited its player.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was roused by a touch on his elbow.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hilton saw a dapper, young gentleman at his side who looked like +nothing so much as a tangle of ribbons swept up from a milliner's +shop.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Her ladyship sits yonder.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan looked. Her ladyship sat with her back towards him at the +table nearest to that which stood empty. She had been screened from +his sight by the young gentleman now at his elbow. As Wogan looked, +Lady Oxford turned with an anxious smile and a glance beyond his +shoulder. The smile, the glance braced Mr. Wogan. For doubtless her +ladyship looked to discover whether the Parson followed in his steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">He approached Lady Oxford. By her side sat Colonel Montague, black as +thunder, and with a certain uneasy air of humiliation, like a man that +finds himself ridiculously placed, and yet has not the courage to +move. Mr. Wogan was encouraged; he could have wished the Colonel in no +other mood. Mr. Wogan suddenly understood that it was himself who was +cast to play with the shrouded figure, and the stake was the privilege +of crossing swords with Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">From the Colonel his eye strayed to a youth who stood by Lady Oxford's +chair, and the sight of him clean took Wogan's breath away. It was not +merely his face, though even in that bright company he shone a planet +among stars. Nature, indeed, thought Wogan, must have robbed a good +many women of their due share of looks before she compounded so much +beauty in the making of one man. But even more remarkable than his +beauty was his extraordinary likeness to Wogan's King. At the first +glance Wogan would have sworn that this youth was the King, grown +younger, but that he knew his Majesty was at Antwerp waiting for the +Blow to fall. At the second, however, he remarked a difference. The +youth had the haunting eyes of the Stuarts, only they were lit with +gaiety and sparkled with success; he had the clear delicate features +of the Stuarts, only they were rounded out of their rueful length, and +in place of a sad gravity, were bright with a sunny contentment. +Misfortune had cast no shadows upon the face, had dug no hollows about +the eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford spoke to this paragon, smiled at him, drooped towards him. +The Colonel shifted a foot, set his lips tight and frowned.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan placed a hand upon his guide's sleeve.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you tell me, if you please, the name of her ladyship's new +friend?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The young gentleman stared at Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Let me perish, Mr. Hilton, but you are strangely out of the fashion. +Or is it wit thus to affect an ignorance of our new conqueror, for +whom women pine with love and men grow sour with envy? But indeed it +is wit--the most engaging pleasantry. 'Twill make your reputation, Mr. +Hilton.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is pure ignorance,' interrupted Wogan curtly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed? But I cannot bring myself to believe it.' He stared at Wogan +as though he was gazing at one of Dr. Swift's Yahoos. 'Slit my weazand +if I can. Sir, he is the gold leaf upon the pill of the world. For his +sake dowagers mince in white and silver, and at times he has to take +to his bed to protect himself from their assiduities.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He has a dangerous face for these times,' again Mr. Wogan broke in.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Blame his grandmother for that, Mr. Hilton; he is of the royal blood. +Nell Gwynn of pious memory gave his father birth. Our last Charles was +his grandsire; he hath Queen Mary's eyes. It is Lord Sidney +Beauclerk.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thought as much. He is a very intimate friend of her ladyship's?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton, the world is very <i>grossier</i>,' remarked his guide, with a +smirk.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan could have laughed. He understood why the Colonel looked so +black, why the ballad was so maliciously apt, why my Lord Sidney +Beauclerk was coupled with the Parson and the Colonel in the common +talk. Her ladyship was taking a new lover. Colonel Montague was the +crumpled ribbon that has done good service but is tossed into the +cupboard to make way for fresher colours. The ballad was apt indeed. +Mr. Wogan's spirits rose with a bound. Sure here was an occasion for +picking a quarrel with the Colonel ready to his hand. He bowed very +low to her ladyship. Her ladyship went on punting.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague looked at him, and then looked at him again with the +same perplexity which Mr. Wogan had found so distasteful one evening +in St. James's Street three years before; but he said nothing. Her +ladyship laid down a card and gave Mr. Wogan a hand, which he kissed +with proper ceremony.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have come late, Mr. Hilton,' she said; 'and you have come, it +seems--alone?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' replied Wogan, with a glance of great sympathy towards the +Colonel, and in his softest brogue, 'men are born to loneliness as the +sparks fly upward.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel took his meaning, and his face flushed. Wogan's spirits +rose higher. If only Montague was strung to the same pitch of +exasperation and injury as the Parson had been in the like +circumstances! The supposition seemed probable. Mr. Wogan could have +rubbed his hands in sheer content. The Colonel, however, made no +rejoinder, and Mr. Wogan had to amuse himself by watching the play.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was little amusement, however, that Mr. Wogan got; on the contrary, +as he watched, his fears returned to him. Her ladyship was evidently +in something of a flutter. She did not show her usual severe attention +to the game. Now she called her black boy Sambo to bring her fan; now +she would pat her spaniel; now she would gaze through the crowd of +perruques and laces towards the door. Her smile was fixed even when +she paid her losses, and that was not her way, she being a bad loser. +She was watching for someone, and that someone without a doubt was Mr. +Kelly. Wogan could not but ask himself with what intention she +watched. Her ladyship was taking a new lover, and for that reason the +ballad struck her hard--if she knew of it. Smilinda was not the +woman to forgive the blow. She would assuredly blame Kelly for the +ballad--if she knew of it. Had she lured him here to strike back? She +turned once more to Mr. Wogan, as though she would put some question +to him; but, before she could open her lips, a name was bawled up the +stairs, and a sudden hush fell upon the room. The throng in the +doorway dissolved as if by magic, and between the doorway and Lady +Oxford's chair a clear path was drawn. The name was Lady Mary Wortley +Montagu's. Everyone then knew of the ballad and laid it at Lady Mary's +door. Everyone? Mr. Wogan asked himself. Did Lady Oxford know?</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague frowned and drummed with his knuckles on the table; it was +the only sound heard in the room. Then Lord Sidney noisily thrust back +his chair, and, stepping past Lady Oxford, stood in the open space +between her and the door with a frank boyish championship for which +Mr. Wogan at once pitied and liked him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The name was passed up the stairs from lackey to lackey, growing +louder with each repetition. The silence was followed by a quick +movement which ran through the room like a ripple across a pool, as +each head was turned towards Lady Oxford to note how she would bear +herself. She rose, the radiant goddess of hospitality.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is no striving, Colonel Montague, against this run of luck,' +she said, with the most natural ease; 'but my dear Lady Mary is come +to save me from ruin. Mrs. Hewett,' she turned to her opposite, 'will +you be tallier to our table? The bank is open to a bidder. No? Ah!' +and she took a step forwards to where her champion was standing apart, +his hand on his hip, his face raised, ready to encounter even so +dangerous an antagonist as Lady Mary, 'my Lord Sidney Beauclerk, you +are not afraid?' He looked at her, from her to the door. 'I am your +servant,' said she, with her eyelids half-closed over her eyes, 'your +grateful servant,' and she motioned him to the table; 'for, being a +woman, I positively die to hear what new scandal dear Lady Mary has +set on foot.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She spoke with an affectionate compassion for Lady Mary's foible and +an air of innocence which quite took aback the most part of her +guests. Mr. Wogan, however, was better acquainted with her ladyship's +resources, and, wishing to know for certain whether Lady Oxford knew +of the ballad;</p> + +<p class="normal">'I can satisfy your ladyship's curiosity,' he said bluntly; and with +that the noise of the room sank to silence again. He was still +standing by the card-table. Lady Oxford turned about to him something +quickly. It may be she was disconcerted, or that anger got the upper +hand with her. At all events, for an instant she dropped the mask. She +gave Wogan one look; he never remembers, in all the strange incidents +of his life, to have seen eyes so hard, so cold, and so cruel, or a +face so venomous. In a second the look was gone, and the prettiest +smile of inquiry was softening about her mouth. 'There is a new poem, +is there not, from Lady Mary's kind muse?' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A new poem!' cried she. 'Let us hear it, I pray. It would be the +worst of ill-breeding had I not knowledge enough to congratulate my +friend. The happy subject of the poem, Mr. Hilton?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford took a step towards him. She was all courtesy and +politeness, but Mr. Wogan, while he recognised her bravery, had her +look of a second ago very distinct before his eyes, and was in no mood +for pity. He bowed with no less courtesy.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is thought to be an allegory,' he said, 'wherein the arm of flesh +is preferred before a spiritual--Blade.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rejoinder, as it seemed, was approved, for the ladies whispered +behind their fans, and here and there a man checked a laugh. Lady +Oxford met the thrust with all the appearances of unconcern.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And tagged with Latin, Mr. Hilton?' she asked. That was enough for +Mr. Wogan. Lady Oxford knew the ballad, and gave it to Lady Mary. +Without a doubt she must believe Mr. Kelly supplied Lady Mary with the +matter of it. 'Of a truth the ballad will' be tagged with Latin. Sure +Lady Mary has scholars enough among her friends who would not let her +wit go naked when a scrap of Latin could cover it decently--indeed, +too decently at times, for, though we always see the Latin, one is +hard put to it now and then to discover the wit. Do you not think so, +Mr.--Hilton?' She paused ever so slightly before the name, and ever so +slightly drawled it, with just a hint of menace in her accent. Mr. +Hilton, none the less, got a clear enough knowledge of the dangerous +game he was playing. Lady Oxford had but to say 'Mr. Wogan,' and it +would not be Mr. Wogan who would have the chance of playing a hand +with the figure at the empty table.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary's name was now called out from the doorway, and Mr. Wogan +was glad enough to leave the encounter to her worthier hands. Lady +Mary sailed into the room; Lady Oxford swam forwards to meet her. The +two ladies dissolved almost in smiles and courtesies.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We were in despair, dearest Lady Mary; we feared you would baulk us +of your company. France, they said, was happy in your sunshine.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'France, madam?' asked Lady Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was your dear friend, Mr. Pope, who said you had withdrawn +thither--la, in the strangest hurry!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed, very like! I denied Mr. Pope my door two days ago, and his +vanity could only conceive I was gone abroad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship was wise. A poet's tongue wags most indiscreetly. Not +that anyone believes those fanciful creatures. A romance of a--a M. +Rémond for whom you should have placed money in the sinking South Sea; +the Frenchman arriving in London in a hurry; Lady Mary in a hurry +arriving in France; a kind of country dance figure of partners +crossing. A story indubitably false, to the knowledge of all your +ladyship's friends, as I took occasion to say at more than one house +where the rumour was put about.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford had scored the first point in the game, as Wogan reckoned +and marked 'Fifteen--love' with chagrin. However, he took some +comfort from Lady Mary's face, which was grown dangerously sweet and +good-natured. Nor was his confidence vain, for Lady Mary did more than +hold her ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship's good will,' said she, 'is my sufficient defence. My +Lord Oxford is here? It is long since I paid him my respects.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Alas, my dear Lord has lain these last six weeks at Brampton Bryan,' +sighed Lady Oxford, 'with a monstrous big toe all swathed in flannel. +Your ladyship, I fear, can only greet my husband by proxy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was just a sparkle of triumph in Lady Mary's eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'By proxy!' she said; 'with all the willingness in the world;' and she +swept a courtesy to Colonel Montague, who was coming forward to join +them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford flirted her fan before her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">A murmur almost of applause ran from group to group of the company.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan, who loved the game of tennis, marked 'Fifteen--all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment a clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the half-hour. In +fifteen minutes the Parson would arrive, and Mr. Wogan had not played +his hand. He moved a few yards from the table at which Lord Sidney +Beauclerk, with his eyes upon Lady Oxford, was dealing the cards, and +stood apart by the empty table, wondering how he should do. He picked +up a pack of cards idly, and Lady Mary spoke again to Lady Oxford:</p> + +<p class="normal">'I interrupted your ladyship's game.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, your coming was the most welcome diversion. Colonel Montague,' +said Lady Oxford, as she was gliding back to her table, 'shared my +bank, and played with the worst of luck. I declare the Colonel has +ruined me;' and so retired out of range of Lady Mary's guns.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel followed Lady Oxford. Lady Mary turned to Mr. Wogan, and +in a voice loud enough for others than Mr. Wogan to hear:</p> + +<p class="normal">'What!' said she, 'was Lady Oxford ruined by Colonel Montague? I did +not think their acquaintance was of so old a standing.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Thirty--fifteen,' said Mr. Wogan in an abstraction.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary stared.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I was but marking the game and scoring points to your ladyship,' +Wogan said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague had heard Lady Mary's sally, for he stopped. Lord +Sidney Beauclerk had heard it, for he rose as though to mark his +disbelief, and handed Lady Oxford to her chair with a sort of air of +protection very pretty in the boy. It seemed, indeed, as though even +Lady Oxford was touched, for her face was half turned towards Mr. +Wogan, and he saw it soften with something like pity and her eyes swam +for an instant in tears. It was new, no doubt, for the spider to feel +compassion for the fly, but Mr. Wogan was not altogether surprised, +for he began to find the fly very much to his own taste. It was a +clean-limbed, generous lad, that looked mighty handsome in the bravery +of his pink satin coat, and without one foppish affectation from his +top-knot to his shoe-buckles.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was still holding the pack of cards in his hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have a mind to play? 'asked Lady Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan looked at the clock. He had only fifteen minutes for his +business as lightning conductor. In fifteen minutes the Parson would +be here.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If you will present me to the player I have a mind to play with,' +said he, dropping the pack on the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'With all my heart,' said she; 'name him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship looked at Wogan doubtfully, and beckoned the Colonel with +her fan. The Colonel, who had his own feud with Lady Mary over the +supposed authorship of the ballad, made as though he had not seen her +summons. Lady Mary repeated it with no better result, and finally took +a step or two towards him. Montague could no longer affect to +misunderstand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I wish to present you to a friend,' she said, as Colonel Montague +joined her.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If your ladyship will excuse me,' said the Colonel coldly, 'I have no +taste for the acquaintance of Irish adventurers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was not out of earshot, and laughed gleefully as he caught +the insult. Here was his opportunity, come in the nick of time.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Did anyone mention me?' he said pleasantly, as he came round the +card-table. But before the Colonel could answer, or Lady Mary +interfere, the servant at the door announced:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Dr. and Miss Townley!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan's heart gave a leap. He swore beneath his breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Miss Townley?' asked her ladyship, who had caught his oath.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is Rose, <i>the</i> Rose,' replied Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary knew the ballad, knew who Rose was, and looked perplexed as +to why Lady Oxford had asked the girl. Mr. Wogan, on the other hand, +was no longer perplexed at all. His doubt was now a certainty. Lady +Oxford had prepared a scenic revenge, a <i>coup de theater</i>. To this +end, and to prove her ignorance of the ballad, she had invited Kelly, +Montague, and Rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Of the <i>coup de theater</i> her ladyship had got more than she bargained +for. On her bosom Miss Townley wore diamonds that caught the eye even +in that Aladdin's treasure house of shining stones, and among the +diamonds the portrait of Lady Oxford. Her ladyship saw it, and grew +white as marble. Miss Townley saw Lady Oxford, knew the face of the +miniature that she had thought was the Queen's, and blushed like the +dawn. Her hand flew to her neck as she courtesied deep to Lady +Oxford's courtesy; when she rose, by some miracle of female skill, the +miniature and the diamonds had vanished. Rising at the same moment, +Lady Oxford looked herself again. But the women understood each other +now, and, as they purred forth their <i>politesses</i>, Wogan knew that the +buttons were off the foils.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had his own game to play, that would brook no waiting, and he +played it without pause. Lady Mary had moved towards the door. Colonel +Montague was gliding back to his old position near Lord Sidney. Wogan +followed Colonel Montague and stopped him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir,' said he, in a low brogue, 'I fancied that I caught a little +word of yours that reflected on me counthry and me honour.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'For your country, sir,' replied the Colonel politely, 'your speech +bewrayeth you, but the habitation of your honour is less discernible.'</p> + +<p class="normal">''Faith, Colonel,' said Wogan, who found his plan answering to his +highest expectations, 'you are so ready with your tongue that you +might be qualifying for an Irishman. Doubtless you are as ready to +take a quiet little walk, in which case I shall be most happy to show +you where my honour inhabits. But, to speak the plain truth, it is +somewhat too near the point of my sword to make Lady Oxford's +drawing-room a convenient place for the exhibition.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague smiled at the pleasantry in an agreeable way which +quite went to Wogan's heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">'With all the goodwill imaginable,' said he, 'I will take that walk +with you to-morrow,' and he made a bow and turned away.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But Colonel,' said Wogan in some disappointment, 'why not to-night?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There are certain formalities. For instance, I was not fortunate +enough to catch your name.'</p> + +<p class="normal">''Tis as ancient as any in Ireland,' cried Wogan, in a heat, quite +forgetting his incognito. 'My forefathers--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, sir, they were kings, no doubt,' interrupted Montague with the +gravest politeness.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, sir, viceroys only,' answered Wogan with indifference, 'up to +Edward I.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your Highness,' said the Colonel, and he bowed to the ground, 'I +reckon to-morrow a more suitable time.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was tickled out of his ill-humour, and began to warm to the +man.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, Colonel, you and I will be the best of good friends after I +have killed you, and for the love of mercy let that be to-night. +Look!' and stepping to the window he drew aside the curtain. 'Look,' +said he, peering out, 'it is the sweetest moonlight that ever kissed a +sword-blade! Oh, to-night, Colonel!' Then he dropped the curtain +something suddenly. He had seen a face in the street. 'You prefer +sunlight? Very well, sir. But you will acknowledge that to-morrow I +have the <i>earliest</i> claims on your leisure.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague bowed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The word, you will remember, was an Irish adventurer.' Wogan +impressed it upon him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, I am wedded to the phrase. You will send your friend to my +lodgings at Mrs. Kilburne's, in Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mrs. Kilburne's!' exclaimed Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan might have guessed as much had he used his brains. It was at the +corner of Ryder Street that he had plumped upon Montague when he came +down to London from Glenshiel. It was under a portico in Ryder Street +that the Parson and he had seen Montague on the night they had driven +out on the first journey to Brampton Bryan. It was at Mrs. Kilburne's +door that Wogan had seen Montague that afternoon. The Colonel was her +fine gentleman upon the first floor. Sure, the Parson had the worst +luck in the world. At all events, the Colonel was a gentleman. Wogan +consoled himself with that reflection as he thought of Mr. Kelly's +despatch box in the scrutoire of his parlour below the Colonel's +rooms.</p> + +<p class="normal">That thought led Wogan's eyes again to the clock. It was half an hour +past ten. The Parson was due in ten minutes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Good-bye t'ye, Colonel,' he said hastily to Montague, as he turned +towards the door. He almost knocked against Rose, who was standing +close by his elbow. She made an effort to detain him; he breathed a +word of apology. It did not occur to him then that she might have +overheard his conversation with the Colonel. He hurried past Lady +Oxford and Dr. Townley, who was talking of his schooldays, when he +knew Lord Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton,' cried her ladyship. Mr. Hilton was deaf as a bed-post. +For when he had looked out of the window at the moonlight he had seen +a face in the roadway of which the Parson should have knowledge before +he reached the house. It was that face which had made him drop the +curtain so quickly and fall in so quickly with the Colonel's +objections. A link-boy's torch had flashed for a second upon a man on +the other side of the road, and his face was Scrope's. Scrope was +watching the house.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan pressed through the throng towards the door, but before he could +reach it a firm hand closed upon his arm. He looked round. Lord Sidney +Beauclerk was standing by his side with a flushed, angry face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A word with you, Mr. Hilton!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A hundred, my lord, in half an hour,' said Wogan, and shook himself +free. He must warn the Parson and turn him back from the house. But he +was too late. In the doorway of the house he met Mr. Kelly, whose face +wore a singular air of content. And on the other side of the road +stood Scrope with his head turned towards the doorway. Scrope knew +that the Parson had come.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan took Kelly's arm, and led him to the shady side of the +street, out of the noisy crowd of lackeys and link-boys.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Those divines err,' said Kelly, 'who condemn the occasional casting +of lots. It is not an ill game.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then you found our lurking luck?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Six rouleaux of gold,' said Mr. Kelly, tenderly caressing his pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The sinews of war, and we are like to need them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then the coast is not clear?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Clear!' said Wogan, 'there is every sign of thunder, wind, and +earthquake. First, Montague is here!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And here is his Capulet!' said Kelly smiling.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan smiled too, having secured his duel with the Colonel.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then Miss Townley is here, and, George, she was wearing my lady's +miniature. The women know each other.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George's mouth opened, and his utterance was stayed. Then,</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a trap. I go home,' he said. Despair spoke in his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No!' Mr. Wogan's plans had changed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why not? I have no more to lose, and my duty to do.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You do not go home, for Scrope is watching the house. He has seen you +come. He is behind us now.' Mr. Kelly's hand went to his sword, but +Wogan checked him. 'Don't let him think you know. We must leave the +house together, and your duty is to be just now where Miss Townley is. +Be quick!'</p> + +<p class="normal">The argument had weight with Mr. Kelly. Wogan had his reasons for +advancing it. If they went away together, later, Wogan could engage +Mr. Scrope's attentions while the Parson went safely on to Ryder +Street. The two passed out of the shade, but not before George had +placed his hand in Wogan's. His hand was cold as ice.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">LADY OXFORD'S 'COUP DE THÉÂTRE.'</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The Parson, when the two friends had climbed the crowded stairs, began +making his way towards his fate and Lady Oxford's table, with a smile +on his face. He did not see Rose, who was a little apart, hidden from +him by a group of strangers. Wogan was about joining her, when a +woman's voice whispered in his ear:</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are mad!'</p> + +<p class="normal">The voice was Lady Mary's.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are mad, both of you! He should be halfway to the coast by now. +What brings him here? I wrote, or rather I sent to him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said Wogan, remembering the letter which he had picked up in +the Parson's lodging, and slipped into his pocket. It had been thrust +clean out of his mind at the Deanery by those more pressing questions +as to how the Blow had been discovered, and how they were to escape +from the consequences of the discovery. He drew it out, still sealed +up.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He has not opened it?' she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He has not seen it,' replied Wogan, who began to fear from her +ladyship's discomposure that the letter held news of an urgent +importance. She took the letter from his hands, and broke the seal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This was my message,' she said. There was no scrap of writing in the +letter, but a feather from a bird's wing: it meant "Fly!"</p> + +<p class="normal">'The feather is white,' said Wogan. He could not have mounted it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He loses his life.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Perhaps, but he keeps his honour. There is something that he must do +in London if by any means he can. He must burn the papers at his +lodgings and the best hope lies in audacity.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan tore up the sheet on which her ladyship had written Mr. +Johnson's name into fragments too minute for anyone to piece them +together again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This proof of your good will,' said he, 'shall not rise in judgment +against you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But you?' said Lady Mary. 'Why do you stay?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'For one thing, I have a little business of my own to settle, +and--well--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And,' said she, 'your friend's in danger.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She spoke with so much kindliness that Mr. Wogan felt a trifle +awkward, and turned his eyes from her face. He saw that Rose still +stood alone, though many of the gallants eyed her through their +quizzing-glasses.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Mary,' he said, 'you have the kindest heart!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Hush! Whisper it,' she replied, 'or you will destroy my reputation. +What service would you have me do now?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You see Miss Rose? You have read a certain ballad which the ignorant +give to your ladyship? And you know Lady Oxford. It is Miss Rose +Townley's first visit to this house, and one cannot believe that Lady +Oxford asked her with any amiable intention.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And I am to be Lady Oxford's spoil-sport?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It has gone beyond sport. At this moment her ladyship has murder in +her mind. The girl entered the room wearing our hostess's portrait in +diamonds,' and he told her shortly how she came to wear it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary looked her horror.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She has hidden it, but you will not leave the girl?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary nodded, her lips tight closed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan presented the girl. Lady Mary made room for her at her side, and +Wogan only heard her say, 'My dear, be brave, you tremble.'</p> + +<p class="normal">What else passed, Wogan did not desire to hear. Lady Mary had faults, +they say, as a woman, but she was of a manlike courage, and her's was +the friendship of a man. Never did woman need it more than Miss +Townley, and never, sure, was counsel and comfort wiser and kinder +than that which, Wogan knew later, Lady Mary gave to the angry, +frightened, and bewildered girl.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary's credentials were Wogan's name; the girl could not suspect +them. How had she come hither? Lady Oxford had invited her father, +Rose said, as a schoolfellow of my lord's, and had asked, too, for the +daughter's company. Then the young lady was lured, her new friend +said, by a wicked woman for a cruel purpose. That purpose, whatever it +was, and neither Wogan nor Kelly nor Lady Mary could do more than +guess, must be defeated at any cost--at all costs. Lady Mary glanced +at the guilt and guilelessness of our sex. Kelly, too, had been +entrapped, before he knew Rose, but that was ended. Lady Mary +certainly knew it was ended, however things appeared. According to +men's notions, he was compelled to lie to Rose about the miniature. +Now Miss Townley might, if she chose, give Kelly his <i>congé</i> +to-morrow. To-night she must know nothing, see nothing, bear no +grudge, be staunch; she owed it to her honour, to the honour of her +sex, to Kelly's very life, and to her revenge, if she craved for one, +on the false enchantress. That was Lady Mary's sermon. And the lesson +was needed. She reported it later to Wogan who, at this moment, was +following the Parson with all his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford at the card-table was greeting Kelly with a conspicuous +kindness. Her smile was one wide welcome.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My dear Mr. Johnson,' she said, 'you are grateful as flowers worked +on the very finest Alençon. Sure you bring me those laces for which I +gave you a commission in Paris, and the lutestring from my Lady Mar.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly murmured a word that the laces were below, and he hoped her +ladyship would be satisfied. But his eyes searched the room all the +time for Rose, whom he could not see.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You shall show me them!' cried Lady Oxford; 'but first you must bring +me luck. Mr. Johnson and I were always lucky before he went abroad.' +She spoke with a provoking smile at Colonel Montague, and then shot a +quick glance at Lord Sidney Beauclerk, who was now risen from the +table, and stood in a window watching her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The glance said plain as writing, 'You understand. I have to face out +the ballad. I can trust you.' Wogan's blood boiled as he noticed and +read the look, for it was just that tender appeal to her lover's faith +which always brought about the lover's undoing. Lord Sidney's young +face flushed with pride at the trust she reposed in him, and she +continued to Kelly:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Look over my hand, Mr. Johnson; you must not leave me. What card +shall I choose? You, Colonel Montague, I discard you. I appoint you to +the Commissariat, run and see that Lady Rich does not starve. She is +leaving her party with the air of a loser, and needs the comforts of +chicken and champagne. But first let me make you better acquainted +with the gentleman who supersedes you. Mr. Johnson, the right-hand man +of my dear Bishop of Rochester.' There she stopped short in a pretty +confusion, as though the words had slipped from her lips against her +will.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who should be thrown to the lions,' growled the Colonel to himself, +and added gruffly, 'Mr. Johnson and I have met before.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel turned his broad scarlet back with the ghost of a bow, and +went reluctantly to Lady Rich, a mature matron, dressed to kill, in +virginal white. Wogan watched them out of the door, and was again +turning back to the card-table, when again Lord Sidney Beauclerk's +hand was laid on his sleeve.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A word with you, Mr. Hilton,' said he in a hard voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'When the half-hour is past, my lord,' said Wogan, looking at his +watch. 'There are still eight minutes and a few seconds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will set my watch by yours,' said the lad with great dignity; which +he did, and went back to his corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Johnson's welcome, meanwhile, was as that of the prodigal swain. +He made more than one effort to slip from her side and go in search of +Rose, but Lady Oxford would not let him go. She had eyes only for him, +eyes to caress. Many curious people watched the scene as at a play. +All the town knew the ballad, and here was Lady Oxford's reply. Mr. +Johnson and Lady Oxford were to all seeming the best of friends, and +no more than friends, for was not Miss Townley in the room to testify +the limits of their friendship?</p> + +<p class="normal">A shifting of the groups gave Wogan suddenly a view of Rose Townley. +She was still talking with Lady Mary, or rather she was still +listening to her, and threw in now and again a short reply. But she +spoke with an occupied air, and her eyes were drawn ever towards the +card-table at which Lady Oxford was practising her blandishments on +the Parson. Then to Wogan's relief a few ladies and gentlemen stepped +between, and the living screen hid him from her view.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this moment Lady Oxford lost heavily.</p> + +<p class="normal">'An ace? Sonica! I am bankrupt!' she cried, and rising from the table +she addressed the Parson. 'Mr. Johnson, you bring me no better luck +than did the Colonel. I must console myself with private talk, and +news of lace and lutestring. What have you brought me? Come, I +positively die to see,' and so, with her sweetest smile, she carried +off the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was thus she had wrought on that first night when Kelly met the +Colonel, but there was a mighty difference in Kelly's demeanour. Then +he had given her his arm with the proudest gallantry. Now her ladyship +went out of her way to lead him past Rose, where she sat with Lady +Mary. He threw an imploring glance at the girl, and followed in Lady +Oxford's wake, the very figure of discomfort.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fine smiles rippled silently round the company as the pair made their +way to the door. Rose watched them, her face grown very hard and +white, but she said no word until they had gone. She stood motionless, +except that her bosom rose and fell quickly. Then she turned to Lady +Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I must bid your ladyship good-night,' she said; 'I have stayed too +long.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Pride kept her voice clear, her words steady, but it could not mask +the pain of her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What ails you, child? You must smile. Smile!' whispered Lady Mary. +But Rose was struck too hard. She lowered her eyes and fixed them on +the floor to hide the humiliation they expressed, but she could not +smile. She tried, but no more came of it than a quiver at the corners +of her lips, and then she set her mouth firmly, as though she could +not trust herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thought I had persuaded you,' whispered Lady Mary. 'It is for +honour, it is for life, his life. Appearances are nothing. You <i>must</i> +stay.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thank your ladyship, who is most kind. I will stay,' said the girl. +Her face flushed purely with a delicate, proud anger.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary presented her to some of her friends, with whom Rose bore +herself bravely. Wogan saw that she had taken her part, and blessed +Lady Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had followed Lady Oxford and the Parson out of the room, and leaned +over the balusters while they descended the stairs. It was an ominous +business, this summons of Lady Oxford. Why must she carry him off +alone with her? What blow had she to strike? Mr. Wogan was not +surprised that Kelly had turned pale, and though he held his head +erect, had none the less the air of one led to the sacrifice. To make +the matter yet more ominous, Lady Oxford herself seemed in a flutter +of excitement; her colour was heightened; she sparkled with even more +than her usual beauty; her tongue rattled with even more than its +usual liveliness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-way down the stairs she met Lady Rich and Colonel Montague +mounting. Lady Oxford stopped and spoke to the Colonel. Mr. Wogan +caught a word or two, such as 'Miss Townley--the poor girl knows no +one.' Kelly started a little; the Colonel sullenly bowed. Lady Oxford, +leaning upon Mr. Kelly's arm in order to provoke the Colonel, must +needs in pity bid the Colonel wait upon Rose in order to provoke Mr. +Kelly. There Wogan recognised her ladyship's refinements.</p> + +<p class="normal">The pair passed down to the foot of the stairs. To the right of the +staircase a door gave on to that little room into which Kelly had led +Lady Oxford on the night of the Masquerade. Lady Oxford left his arm +and went towards it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly remained standing by the stairs, very still. It was in this room +that Lady Oxford had discovered the Chevalier's likeness in the lid of +the snuff-box, and had deceived George into the belief that she was, +heart and soul, as deep in the Cause as he. It was that room which had +witnessed the beginnings of the history. Now it seemed it was like to +see the end.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly looked up the stairs and saw Wogan's face. He smiled, in a +quiet, hopeless way, and then Lady Oxford threw open the door. She +turned back to Kelly, a languorous smile upon her lips, a tender light +in her eyes. Neither the smile nor the look had power to beguile the +two men any longer. Kelly stepped forwards to her like a man that is +tired. Wogan had again the queer sense of incongruity. Behind him +voices laughed and chattered, in some room to his left music sounded; +and here at the foot of the stairs was a woman all smiles and graces +playing with Life and Death as a child with toys.</p> + +<p class="normal">The pair passed into the room. The door shut behind them. The click of +the latch is one of the things Wogan never will forget.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">WHEREIN A NEW FLY DISCOURSES ON THE +INNOCENCE OF THE SPIDER'S WEB</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Wogan was still leaning on the rail of the balustrade when a watch was +held beneath his nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The half-hour is gone, Mr. Hilton,' said Lord Sidney Beauclerk.</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said Wogan, 'it is now a quarter past eleven.' His eyes moved +from the watch to the closed door. 'Half an hour, my lord,' he mused, +'a small trifle of minutes. You may measure it by grains of sand, but, +if you will, for each grain of sand you may count a life.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You hit my sentiments to a nicety.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney spoke with a grave significance which roused Wogan from +his reflections. The lad's face was hard; his eyes gloomy and fierce. +Wogan remembered that, when Lord Sidney had spoken before, he had not +seemed in the best of good humour.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My lord,' he said, 'we can hardly talk with comfort here in the +doorway.' He led the way back into the inner withdrawing-room and +across the room to the recess of a window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here we shall be private,' he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hilton, you spoke a little while ago of a ballad, wherein, to use +your words, the arm of flesh was preferred to a spiritual Blade. That +may have been wit, of which I do not profess to be the judge. But you +aimed an insult at a woman, and any man may claim to be the judge of +that.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My lord,' answered Wogan gently, 'you do not know the woman. I could +wish you never will.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney laughed with a sharp scorn which brought the blood into +Wogan's face. It was plain the remark was counted an evasion.</p> + +<p class="normal">'At all events I know an insult when I hear it. Let us keep to the +insult, Mr. Hilton. It reaped its reward, for here and there a coward +smirked his applause.' Lord Sidney's voice began to tremble with +passion. 'But it has yet to be paid for. You must pay for it to me,' +and, since Wogan kept silence, his passion of a sudden got the upper +hand, and in a low quick voice--there was as much pain as anger in +it--'It hurts me,' he said, clenching his hands, 'it positively hurts +me. Here is a woman'--he stopped in full flight, and blushed with a +youthful sort of shame at his eloquence--'a woman, sir, in a word, and +you must torture her with your brave sneers and she must wear a +smiling face while her heart bleeds! Mr. Hilton, are you a man? Why, +then, so am I, and it humiliates me that we should both be men. The +humiliation will not pass even after,' and he drew a breath in through +his shut teeth, 'after I have killed you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had listened to the outburst with all the respect he thought +due to a boy's frank faith. A boy--Wogan's years were not many more +than his, but he had seen mankind, and marvelled how they will trust a +woman who, they know, has fooled one man, if but a husband. But, at +Lord Sidney's talk of killing him, Wogan sank the philosopher and +could not repress a grin.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Kill me, my young friend; <i>ne fait ce tour qui veut</i>,' he said; 'but +sure you may try if you will. You will not be the first who has +tried.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no doubt of that,' said Lord Sidney gravely, 'and you will +oblige me by using another word. I may be young, Mr. Hilton, but I +thank God I am not your friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a dignity, a sincerity in his manner which to Mr. Wogan's +ears robbed the speech of all impertinence. Wogan simply bowed and +said:</p> + +<p class="normal">'If you will send your friend to Burton's Coffee House in the +morning----'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To Burton's Coffee House.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney turned away. Mr. Wogan drew aside the curtain of the +window and stared out into the night with an unusual discontent. +Across the road Mr. Scrope was still lurking in the shadow--a hired +spy. Very like, he had once been just such another honest lad, with +just the same chivalry, before my lady cast her covetous eyes on him. +Downstairs in the little room the Parson was fighting, for the Cause, +for his sweetheart, for his liberty, and maybe for his life, with +little prospect of a safe issue. It seemed a pity that Lord Sidney +Beauclerk should be wasted too.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My lord,' said Wogan, calling after Lord Sidney. And Lord Sidney came +back. Wogan was still holding the curtain aside; he had some vague +thought of relating Scrope's history, but his first glance at Lord +Sidney's face showed to him it would not avail. Lord Sidney would +disbelieve it utterly. Wogan dropped the curtain.</p> + +<p class="normal">'How old is your lordship?' he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney looked surprised, as well he might, and then blushed for +his youth.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am twenty,' he said, 'and some months,' with considerable emphasis +on the months as though they made a world of difference.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah,' replied Wogan, 'I am of the century's age, twenty-two and some +more months. You are astonished, my lord. But when I was fifteen I +fought in battles.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Was it to tell me this you called me back?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Wogan solemnly, 'but you meet me tomorrow. I am not sure +that I could do you better service than by taking care that you meet +no one afterwards. It was that I had to tell you,' and he added with a +smile, 'but I do not think I shall bring myself to do you that +service.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney's face changed a little from its formal politeness. He +eyed Mr. Wogan as though for a moment he doubted whether he had not +mistaken his man. Then he said:</p> + +<p class="normal">'In a duel, Mr. Hilton, there are two who fight.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not always, my lord. Sometimes there is one who only defends,' and +with that they parted. Clamorous dames took Lord Sidney captive. Wogan +looked at his watch. Five minutes had passed since that latch had +clicked. He strolled out of the room to the stairs. The door was still +shut. He came back into the room and stood by Lady Mary, who was +describing to Rose the characters of those who passed by. She looked +anxiously at Wogan, who had no comforting news and shook his head, but +she did not cease from her rattle.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And here comes Colonel Montague with a yellow bundle of bones tied up +in parchment, 'she cried. Lady Rich was the bundle of bones in +parchment. 'Colonel Montague--well, my dear, he is a gallant officer +in the King's guards who fought at Preston, and he owes his life to a +noisy Irish boy who has since grown out of all recognition.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here Rose suddenly looked up at Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was this Colonel Montague you saved!' said she.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Hush,' whispered Wogan, who had his own reasons for wishing the +Colonel should discover nothing upon that head. 'Remember, if you +please, that my name is Hilton.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague led Lady Rich to the sofa.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel, has fortune deserted you that you look so glum?' asked Lady +Mary.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am on the losing hand indeed, your ladyship, to-night,' said +Montague bitterly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, <i>malheureux en jeu</i>,' said her ladyship maliciously, 'you may +take comfort from the rest of the proverb.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Rich shook her rose-coloured ribbons, a girlish simpleton of +forty summers.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am vastly ashamed of being so prodigiously ignorant,' said she. 'I +daresay I ask a mighty silly question, but what is the rest?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'French, my dear, and it means that fifteen years is the properest age +for a woman to continue at, but why need one be five?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague smiled grimly. Mr. Wogan stifled a laugh. Lady Rich +looked somewhat disconcerted.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, is that a proverb?' said she with a <i>minauderie</i>. 'I shall dote +on proverbs,' and so she simpered out of range.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary lifted up her hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Regardez cet animal!</i>' she cried; '<i>considérez ce néant</i>. There's a +pretty soul to be immortal.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship is cruel,' said Rose in remonstrance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, my dear, it is the only way to keep her quiet. My Lady Rich is +like a top that hums senselessly. You must whip it hard enough and +then it goes to sleep and makes no noise. Mr. Hilton, are you struck +dumb?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hilton's ears were on the stretch to catch the sound of a door, +and making an excuse he moved away. Suspense kept him restless; it +seemed every muscle in his body clamoured to be doing. He walked again +to the window. Scrope was still fixed at his post. Wogan sauntered out +of the room to the stairs, and down the stairs to the hall. The hall +was empty. The door of the little room where Kelly and Lady Oxford +were closeted was shut, and no sound came through it, either of word +or movement. Wogan wished he had been born a housemaid, that he might +lean his ear against the keyhole without any shame at the +eavesdropping. He stood at the stair-foot gazing at the door as though +his eyes would melt the oak by the ardour of their look. Above the +voices laughed, the smooth music murmured of all soft pleasures. Here, +in the quiet of the hall, Wogan began to think the door would never +open; he had a foolish fancy that he was staring at the lid of a +coffin sealed down until the Judgment Day, and indeed the room might +prove a coffin. He looked at his watch; only a poor quarter of an hour +had passed since the door had closed. Wogan could not believe it; he +shook his watch in the belief that it had stopped, and then a hubbub +arose in the street. The noise drew nearer and nearer, and Wogan could +distinguish the shouts of newsboys crying their papers. What they +cried as yet he could not hear. In the great room at the head of the +stairs the voices of a sudden ceased; here and there a window was +thrown open. The ominous din rang through the open windows and floated +down the stairs, first the vague cries, then the sound of running +feet, and last of all the words, clear as a knell:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Bloody Popish Plot! A Plot discovered!'</p> + +<p class="normal">So Lady Oxford had played her cards. The plot was out; Scrope was in +the street; the Parson was trapped. Wogan determined to open that +door. He took his hand from the balustrade, but before he had advanced +a step, the door was opened from within. Her ladyship sailed forth +upon Mr. Kelly's arm, radiant with smiles; and, to Wogan's +astonishment, Kelly in the matter of good humour seemed in no wise +behind her.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">STROKE AND COUNTER-STROKE</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Those fifteen minutes had none the less proved a <i>mauvais quart +d'heure</i> for Mr. Kelly. As he entered the room, the memories of the +grey morning when first he stood there were heavy upon his thoughts. A +cheerful fire burnt upon the hearth now as then. There was the settee +on which her ladyship had lain in her pretended swoon. The text which +he had read in the Deanery recurred to him: 'Her ways are the ways of +Death; her feet take hold on Hell.' Through the open door came the +sound of music and the words jangled through Kelly's mind to the tune.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford closed the door; as the latch caught, Kelly lifted his +head and faced her. On that first occasion her ladyship had worn a +mask, and in truth she wore no mask now. A cruel smile played about +her lips; a cruel light glittered in her eyes. She looked him over +with triumph, as though he were her captive bound hand and foot. The +look braced Mr. Kelly. He started from his memories as a man starts up +from sleep; he lived alert and complete in the moments as they passed. +Rose, the King's papers, his own liberty--this was his new text. Her +ladyship could be trusted to give a sufficient exposition of the +other.</p> + +<p class="normal">She seated herself, and with her fan beckoned him to a chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We have much to speak of, sir. I hear that I have to make you my +congratulations, and to pay you my thanks. You may conceive with what +sincerity.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly remained standing by the fireside.</p> + +<p class="normal">'For what services does your ladyship thank me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have made me a tavern-jest. I have to thank you for a ballad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly did not deny or argue the point. His pressing business was +to know what Lady Oxford intended.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And on what fortunate event does your ladyship congratulate me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Are there so many fortunate events in the life of an Irish runagate +and traitor? On your happy marriage, sir, with the starving +apothecary's daughter.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly laughed pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious. Upon my honour, I know no +such woman,' he said, thinking thus to provoke her to disclose her +purposes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford, to his surprise, rose up with a joyful air. 'I knew it,' +she cried. 'I knew the story of the girl was the idle talk of the +Cocoa Tree. And Lady Mary thought to stab me with the cruel news. Ah, +if the honour of my Strephon be pledged, his Smilinda's anger +vanishes.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here she threw her arms about Kelly's neck, in a very particular +embrace, as if she would kiss him. But she refrained from such a +caress. Her arms were clasped tighter and yet more tight till Kelly +could scarcely breathe, and her cold whispering mouth touched his ear.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was, then, no starving apothecary?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'None, madam. You have been misinformed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The embrace grew deadly tight. He could not have thought that a woman +had such strength in her arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No man named Townley? No daughter Rose? No wound? No nursing? No +love-vows? No dog Harlequin? No betrothal? Liar!' she whispered in a +strange voice, 'I see your miss's ring upon your finger. I saw my +portrait upon her breast. Did she steal it? 'Tis like enough. But 'tis +likelier that you lie!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship misunderstands,' said Kelly. 'I denied that there was a +starving apothecary's daughter. I did not deny that there was a man +named Townley, who, by the way, is your ladyship's guest. I did not +deny there was a daughter Rose----'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Go!' she cried suddenly, releasing Kelly, and pushing him off. 'I +know everything, everything. Go, traitor to your King and to your +word! And when you are hanged, but <i>not till you are dead</i>, remember +that you have made a toy and jest of <i>me</i>, babbling to your Lady Marys +and your Wogans.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She flung herself back on a settee panting and tearing her laced +handkerchief into shreds. Kelly waited a little for her to recover her +composure.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' he said, 'in the fatal circumstances you mention with such +relish, it is certainly not of you that I shall think, though in less +painful moments I shall ever do so with honour and gratitude. As for +what you say of my babbling, I protest my innocence before Heaven. +Your ladyship forgets that you have an enemy from whom it was my good +fortune once to defend you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford dropped her handkerchief and sat forward staring +doubtfully at Kelly, who at once pressed his advantage.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was into this room that I then had the honour of escorting your +ladyship. Upon that occasion, if I may be pardoned for reminding you, +what appears now to be treachery in me, seemed more akin to loyalty. +But though the sentiments of your ladyship have suffered a change +since then, those of Mr. Scrope have not. It was he who had attacked +you then; it is he who attacks you now, and, believe me, it is my +regret that I was not again at hand to defend you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson should have stopped before those last few words were +spoken. He spoke them in all sincerity, but they lost him the +advantage he had gained, for it was not in Lady Oxford's nature to +believe them. She made her profit out of her lovers' sincerity, yet +could not comprehend it. It seemed almost as though some instinct led +her to choose them for that very quality, with which her judgment +could not credit them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A fine story,' she exclaimed with a sneer, 'and no doubt the +apothecary's daughter would be entirely content with it, but I know +you lie.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly bowed in silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wait,' she said, mistaking the bow, for Mr. Kelly had a certain +question to ask before he returned to the company; 'we must appear +together.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She took in her hand a box of lace which had been placed ready in the +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your hand, if you please, Mr. Johnson, for the last time. You are +going, sir, to your death by rope and knife, or by point of sword.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly gave Lady Oxford his hand, and put his question:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your Ladyship has no fear that I shall escape?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship had none whatever, as her smile clearly showed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then perhaps your ladyship will inform me how much liberty I have +still left to me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have to-night free,' she answered, and as he heard the words +Kelly's heart gave a great leap within him. 'So much reprieve you +have. But you must not go till I dismiss you. Enjoy yourself.' She +took Kelly's hand with a low courtesy.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had to-night free! At all events, the King's papers would be saved. +If all else went down, the papers would be saved. So it came about +that he met Wogan at the stair-foot with a smiling face.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the withdrawing-room the clatter of tongues had begun again, so +that neither Lady Oxford nor the Parson distinguished the shouts of +the newsboys, as they mounted the stairs. To Mr. Wogan, indeed, who +followed upon their heels, the words no longer rose clear and audible. +But as they entered the room, it was plain something was stirring. The +windows stood open, gentlemen leaned out, ladies asked questions; +about each window there was a restless, noisy group. The candles +guttered in the wind; the card-tables were deserted; and straight in +front of him Mr. Wogan saw Rose, her hands clasped in an extremity of +apprehension. Colonel Montague stood beside her chatting easily and +making as though he remarked nothing of her uneasiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the hoarse cries again rang through the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Bloody Popish Plot.' 'A Plot discovered.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What, yet another Plot?' said Mr. Wogan smiling to Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Walpole discovers plots by the dozen; he is the most active of +our guardians, 'said Kelly easily. He dared not look at Rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We must hear more of it,' said Lady Oxford pleasantly, and calling +her black boy: 'Run, Sambo, bring this late-flying night-bird of ill +omen.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy grinned, and ran away upon his errand. Lady Oxford came up to +my Lady Mary Montagu.</p> + +<p class="normal">'See, madam,' she cried, opening the box of lace with the air of a +child that has a new toy.</p> + +<p class="normal">'See what this kind obliger has brought me from the looms of the Fairy +Queen. All point d'Alençon of the finest. Yes, you may well look +envious. Here is meat for a Queen.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The other ladies, deserting the windows when they heard that magical +word 'lace,' crowded round, and Kelly was, where many a pretty fellow +would have loved to be, in the centre of a perfumed world of fans and +hoops, of sparkling eyes and patched faces. Kelly, however, had other +business on hand, and, slipping through the group while Lady Oxford +was praising her lace, he drew Wogan aside to a window now deserted. +There he told him of his conversation with Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So you see, Nick, I have to-night free. I mean to run to my lodging, +burn the papers, and then--why one has a night free. I may yet outwit +my lady. Besides, the papers once burned, there's little proof to +condemn me. Speak to Rose, Nick! She will believe <i>you</i>; you never +lied to her. Tell her there's no need to despair. Then make speed to +the coast. I must go to Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">As he turned, Nick caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You must not go yet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why?'</p> + +<p class="normal">For answer Wogan turned to the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stand here in the shadow of the curtain. Across the street; there, in +the corner.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly put his hands to his face to shut out the light of the room, and +peered into the darkness.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is a man. Who is it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I told you! Scrope. I saw him an hour ago. A link-boy's torch showed +me his face. You have to-night free. An hour or so more will make +little difference to you, and may tire out our friend there--or he may +mean another bout with the sharps.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I hope so,' said Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this moment Sambo returned with a little damp sheet of the <i>Flying +Post</i>, and the laces were forgotten. Sambo carried the sheet to Lady +Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faugh,' said she, 'I dare not touch the inky thing!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan came out from his window, where he left his friend, and took the +sheet from the boy's black paw.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Does your ladyship wish to alarm us all by reading out the news? +These Papists are terrible fellows.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Read! Read!' said Lady Oxford, with a contented laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan ran his eyes over the print.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is scarce fit for ladies' ears,' he said meaningly. 'Some nonsense +out of Grub Street. The wretch should be whipped from Temple Bar to +Westminster,' and Wogan made as if he would tear the sheet.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship hesitated. But she could not guess what the sheet +contained, and she knew Mr. Wogan would try to screen his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, read sir,' she said boldly, 'or must I imperil my own fingers +with the foul thing?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan folded the paper, and with a bow held it out to her ladyship; +again she hesitated; she did not take the sheet; she looked into +Wogan's face as though she would read the news-sheet there. Curious +smiles began to show upon the faces about her, heads to nod, lips to +whisper.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Shall I oblige your ladyship?' asked Mr. Methuen, who stood by.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If you please,' replied Lady Oxford, but in a less certain tone than +she had used before.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Methuen took the sheet from Wogan's hand, unfolded it, and glanced +at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is indeed scarce fit for your ladyship's ears,' he said; and in +his turn he folded it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The smiles broadened, the whispers increased. Lady Oxford was +altogether disconcerted.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will read it,' a young voice rang out. Lord Sidney Beauclerk +stepped forward, took the sheet from Mr. Methuen, and at once read it +aloud. He began defiantly, but towards the end his voice faltered. Mr. +Kelly did not turn round, and seemed to pay no heed whatever.</p> +<div style="font-size:90%"> +<p class="normal">'They write from Paris that a foul Plot against the Throne, and even +the sacred Person of His Most Gracious Majesty hath been discovered. +In Town, it is thought that a Lady of great Beauty who has a Tory Lord +of advanced years and gouty Habit to her Husband, and a young Whig +Officer of great Promise for her Friend, hath given the Intelligence +to the Minister. Nobody has yet been taken, but the Gentry of the +Silver Greyhound are thought to have their eyes on a certain Reverend +Nonjuror. We say no more for the present.'</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney crumpled up the sheet, and retiring from the circle, +slowly tore it in pieces.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure, they say quite enough,' murmured Lady Mary, and no one +else spoke, but all looked to Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford was brave.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the silence of the company who were gathered round she spoke.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Too scurrilous to need a contradiction! Doubtless it is I and my kind +lace-dealer who are aimed at. Now Mr. Johnson is here, and is my +guest. The inference is plain.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Johnson turned from the window and came up to the group.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My confidence in her ladyship is as great as my certainty that there +is no Plot in which I am concerned,' said Kelly, bowing to the lady, +and letting his jolly laugh out of him to the comfort of the company +who did not smoke his jest. Mr. Wogan admired his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was now become impossible for Kelly to leave the house. Should he +go now, his going would wear all the appearances of a hasty flight, +and who knew but what some of Mr. Walpole's spies might be within the +room as well as in the street? Kelly must remain and brave it out, as +he clearly recognised. For,</p> + +<p class="normal">'There are ears to be cut for this,' he went on, 'but we had better be +cutting the cards.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson holds the bank with me!' cried Lady Oxford. 'After this +terrible false alarm I am ready to risk all, and brave everything. I +must win enough to pay for my laces; I am much in Mr. Johnson's debt. +Sambo, my money box.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The black boy ran out of the room. Mr. Kelly walked towards the +card-table, and as he went, a light hand was laid upon his arm, and +Rose's trembling voice whispered in his ear:</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, you will go. Yes, now, to-night. There may yet be time for +you to cross to France.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was comforted beyond words, beyond belief. Rose knew, and +she forgave; he had not thought it was in woman's nature. But he was +also tempted to fly; his papers unburned, the Cause deserted. The hand +upon his sleeve had its fingers on his heart-strings, and was twanging +them to a very pretty tune. A few strides would bring him to the +doorway, a couple of leaps to the foot of the stairs, and outside was +the night.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will go,' she repeated, seeing how her voice weakened him. +'Now--now.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes 'trembled on his lips. It seemed to Rose in her great longing +that she heard the word breathed upon the air. But he did not speak +it; he spoke no word at all. He started, his mouth dropped, his blue +eyes stared, the blood was drained from his cheeks. He stood amazed, +like one that sees a ghost. Rose followed the direction of his eyes; +she saw the guests, the tables, the candles, but nothing that should +so startle her lover.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is it?' she asked, fearing any delay that checked the assent she +had seen tremble on his lips. 'You will go! You will go!' But even as +she spoke she knew that he would not go. His face kept its pallor, but +grew resolute, ennobled. He had ceased to think of his own safety.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I cannot go,' he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson,' Lady Oxford's voice broke in. Sambo had returned with a +casket curiously enamelled. 'Mr. Johnson,' said she, looking into the +casket: 'Some five hundred pounds.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And six rouleaux,' added Kelly, bringing out the spoils of Hazard +with an air.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose turned away, her face of a sudden grown very white and hard. She +had done her best to make Kelly seek safety, and he would not: could +she do more?</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson crossed suddenly to Wogan, his face very pale, but with a +wonderful bright light in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, I have seen the King, here, in this room, young, happy. The +shadow of the hundred years of sorrow of his race has lifted from his +forehead.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The King is at Antwerp, George. You have not seen him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then it is his spirit, which has taken form to hearten us,' Kelly +whispered in a voice of awe.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, you have seen Lord Sidney Beauclerk.' It needed no more than +a word to make him understand. He had not seen the King nor the King's +appearance, only the King's cousin, Lord Sidney. But now he could not +forget any longer that the King's papers were in his lodgings; that at +all costs he must reach his lodgings unfollowed; that at all costs +those papers must be a little pile of ashes before the morning came.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The bank is open,' said Lady Oxford. 'Colonel Montague, will you find +a lady and be our opposite?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The glum Colonel bowed in silence, and allied himself with silly +smiling Lady Rich. The play was high. The luck had not deserted Kelly, +while Lady Oxford paid him a hundred flattering compliments and +bantered her military lover, who was not ready at repartee or was not +ready then.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Malheureux en jeu</i>,' said Lady Oxford, repeating the proverb Lady +Mary had already quoted that evening. 'How fortunate, Colonel, must be +your affections!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is only your ladyship who has all the luck and wins, or wins back +if she loses,' answered the Colonel, looking at Mr. Kelly with an evil +favour, and her ladyship laughed in pure delight.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was another game besides Quadrille played at that table. Lady +Oxford was setting Colonel Montague and the Parson by the ears. Did +she wish to embroil them in a quarrel to make Kelly's ruin doubly +sure? Wogan watched the Colonel; he had the first claim upon the +Colonel's sword. Mr. Kelly kept smiling and raking in the rippling +golden stakes. The company stood round; they had left their tables to +see this great battle of Quadrille. At times Wogan caught a glimpse of +Rose Townley through a gap in the circle. She could not know why her +lover had not fled. She only knew that, in her despite, he stayed in +the house of the woman of whom he had told her at Avignon, though his +life was in peril; she only saw that woman fawning upon him, and him +smiling back to the woman. Lady Mary had stolen her hand into the +girl's, that no doubt was cold as marble, and in his heart Wogan +blessed her kind ladyship. At last all the tide of gold had turned to +Lady Oxford's side of the table. The Colonel rose and confessed +defeat.</p> + +<p class="normal">People began to say their good-byes. Dr. Townley crossed the room to +his daughter, who rose at once with a word of thanks to Lady Mary. Mr. +Kelly remarked her movement, and with an imploring look bade her wait +until Lady Oxford released him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson,' said her ladyship, dividing the winnings, 'short +accounts make long friends. I think when you reckon up the night you +will find that all my great debt to you is fully paid.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly bowed, and took the money, his eyes on her flushed face and +glittering serpent's eyes. Lady Oxford turned to Colonel Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your revenge is waiting for you, Colonel, whenever you are pleased to +claim it. To-morrow if you will.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam, I may claim my revenge to-night,' said the Colonel, and +stepped back with his full weight upon Kelly's foot. There was no +mistaking the deliberate movement. Lady Oxford made as though she had +not seen it, but as she turned away her face had a look of pleasure, +which Mr. Kelly remarked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, Colonel,' said Wogan, 'you and I have a game to play, you +remember. Le Queux's is still open and I claim the first call on your +leisure at Hazard.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague answered Mr. Wogan with a good-nature which the +latter did not comprehend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have indeed some words to say to you, sir.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, Colonel,' said the Parson, 'you trod upon my foot. I shall be +happy to consult you on the bruise to-morrow.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To-morrow?' said Montague, his face hardening instantly. 'I may +inquire after it before then,' and so making his bow he got him from +the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford gave her hand to Wogan and dismissed him with a friendly +word. She was so occupied with the pleasure of her revenge that she +had altogether forgotten his jest about the ballad. Wogan on his side +made his leave-taking as short as could be, for out of the corner of +his eye he saw Kelly offering his arm to Miss Townley, and Kelly must +not leave the house without Wogan at his side. For, in the first +place, Colonel Montague was for a sure thing standing sentinel within +ten paces of the door, and after he had run the gauntlet of the +Colonel, there was Scrope for him to make his account with, should +Scrope attempt to follow in his tracks. Mr. Wogan had a mind to insist +upon his first claim to Colonel Montague's attentions, and, once they +were rid of him, it would not be difficult to come to a suitable +understanding with Scrope should he attempt to follow them to Ryder +Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan was indeed already relishing in anticipation the half-hour +that was to come, and hurried after the Parson, who was by this time +close to the door with Rose upon his arm and Dr. Townley at his heels.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Good night, Mr. Johnson,' said her ladyship in a lazy voice. 'Take +care of yourself, for they tell me the streets are not too safe.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly dropped Rose Townley's arm and turned back towards Lady Oxford.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But surely,' said he with some anxiety, 'tonight the streets are +safe. Your ladyship assured me of their safety to-night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford made no reply for a few seconds, she stood watching Kelly +with an indolent smile. A word of Lady Mary's came back to Wogan's +mind--a word spoken two years since in Paris, 'She will play cat to +any man's mouse.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To-night?' said Lady Oxford, lifting her eyebrows, and she glanced +towards the clock. It was five minutes to one. Kelly stared at the +clock, his mouth open and his eyes fixed. Then he drew his hand across +his forehead, and, walking slowly to the mantelpiece, leaned his hands +on it in a broken attitude and so stared at the clock again. Lady +Oxford had struck her last blow, and the last was the heaviest. Kelly +had the night free, but the night was gone--and the streets were not +safe. Nothing could be saved now--not even the King's papers. Then +Wogan saw a change come over his face. The despair died out of it and +left it blank as a shuttered window. But very slowly the shutter +opened. He was thinking; the thought became a hope, the hope a +resolve. First his knees straightened, then the rounded shoulders rose +stiff and strong. In his turn Kelly struck.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship,' he said, 'was kind enough some time ago to entrust me +with your own <i>brocades</i>. Those brocades are in the strong box in my +lodgings.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan understood. Brocades was the name for letters in the jargon of +the Plot. Lady Oxford's love-letters were in that box which he had +handled that very afternoon. If Kelly was seized in the street his +rooms would be searched, the King's papers found, and, with the King's +papers, Lady Oxford's love-letters. Lady Oxford understood too. Her +ingenious stratagems of the evening to discredit the ballad and save +her fair fame would be of little avail if the world once got wind of +those pretty outpourings of Smilinda's heart. Her face grew very +white. She dropped her fan and stooped to recover it. It was +noticeable, though unnoticed, that no one of those who were still +present stepped forward to pick up the fan. Curiosity held them in +chains, not for the first time that evening. It was as though they +stood in a room and knew that behind locked doors two people were +engaged in a duel. Now and then a clink of steel would assure them +that a thrust was made; but how the duel went they could not tell.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Lady Oxford rose her colour had returned.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My brocades?' she said. 'Indeed, I had purely forgotten them. You +have had them repaired in Paris?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, madam,' answered Kelly deliberately. 'I do not think the streets +are so unsafe as your ladyship supposes; but I should be sorry for +them to fall into any hands but your own if by any chance footpads end +my days to-night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He bowed and walked towards Rose Townley and her father, who stood in +the doorway at a loss what to make of the scene. He had crossed half +the distance before Lady Oxford moved. Then, it seemed with one swift +step, she stood at Kelly's side.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson, you are my prisoner!' she exclaimed. 'My dear brocades! +Mr. Johnson, you are surely the most attentive of men. You must tell +me how they have been repaired; I shall not close my eyes unless you +take pity on my impatience.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Had Kelly been the man to care for triumphs wrested from a woman, he +would have found his occasion now. A minute before, Lady Oxford's eyes +glittered with menaces, her face was masterful; now, her eyes besought +pity, her face was humbled.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If your ladyship will permit me,' said Kelly, 'I will return when I +have seen Miss Townley to her chair.'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a difficult moment for Miss Townley. For to those who looked on +it seemed that by some means here was Mr. Johnson brought back into +bondage before the very eyes of his betrothed. But Rose was patient of +Lady Mary's lesson. 'Tomorrow give him his <i>congé</i> if you will; +to-night be staunch! It is for life and honour!' She knew no more, but +she was loyal. Wogan had seen men go, for the Cause, to a shameful +death by torture. But he never saw courage so unfaltering, or loyalty +so true, as this girl's. She was not herself in that hour; she had +taken up a part as an actress does, and she played it clean, and +played it through. To-morrow she might be a woman again, a woman +wronged, deceived, insulted; to-night, with the astonishing valour and +duplicity of her sex, she was all in her part, to see nothing, to know +nothing, to be staunch.</p> + +<p class="normal">To the smiles, the simpered sarcasms, the quizzing glances, she paid +no heed. She said, with a simple dignity, to Lady Oxford:</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will not keep Mr. Johnson long. It is but a few steps to your +ladyship's door, where my chair waits for me,' and she held out her +hand to Kelly. She had her reward. Kelly's face put on a look of pride +which no one in the room could mistake. He took her hand with a laugh, +and threw back his chest.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will return, your ladyship,' he said gaily, and with Rose passed +out of the door. The whispers were stilled; the couple went down the +stairs in a great silence. Rose bore herself bravely until she had +stepped into her chair; showed a brave face then at the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall hear of you from France,' she whispered. 'Good-night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The chair was carried off; Dr. Townley followed. The Parson returned +slowly up the stairs. His heart was full; in Rose's eyes he had seen +the tears gathering; no doubt in the darkness of her chair they were +flowing now. She would hear of him from France! Well, he had his one +weapon--Lady Oxford's letters. If he used that weapon aright, why +should she not hear of him from France? By the time he reached the top +of the stairs, he was already putting together the words of the letter +he should write.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he re-entered the withdrawing-room, the last few guests, of whom +Wogan was one, were taking their departure. Wogan saw Kelly move +towards the little card-table which had stood empty. Kelly sat down, +and with the fingers of one hand he played with the cards, cutting +them unwittingly as though for a deal. It was, after all, he and not +Wogan who had to play the hand with the shrouded figure. Wogan had +already made his adieux. As he passed out of the door Lady Oxford was +standing in the middle of the room plucking at her fan. As he went +down the stairs, the door was flung to with a bang. Lady Oxford and +Kelly were left alone.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">MR. SCROPE BATHES BY MOONLIGHT AND IN HIS +PERUKE</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Wogan had heard two doors shut that evening, and with very different +feelings. One had been latched gently, and the sound had filled him +with apprehensions; one had been flung to with an angry violence, and +the sound soothed him like the crooning of music. For Kelly, it +seemed, after all held the trumps in his hand; he had but to play them +aright and the game was his.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The longer he takes to play them the better,' murmured Wogan, as he +stood on the steps of Lady Oxford's house and looked briskly about +him. For to his left, standing openly in the moonlight, he saw a tall +martial figure wrapped in a cloak, and the end of a scabbard shining +beneath the cloak, while across the road his eyes made out a hunched +form blotted against the wall. The figure in the cloak was Colonel +Montague; the skulker would no less certainly be Mr. Scrope. If the +Parson would only take time enough to deploy his arguments like a +careful general! Mr. Wogan would have liked to have run back and +assured Kelly that there was no need whatever for hurry, since he +himself had enough amusements on his hands to make the time pass +pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">He advanced to the Colonel first.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, it is now to-morrow, the date at which you kindly promised me a +few moments of your leisure. You may hear the chimes of the Abbey +strike the half hour after one.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan,' replied the Colonel, 'I reckon this yesterday--till after +breakfast. At present I have an engagement with another person.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague, your reckoning of time is contrary to the almanac, +and to a sound metaphysic, of which I am the ardent advocate. You will +understand, sir, that such a difference of opinion between gentlemen +admits of only one conclusion.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague smiled, and to Wogan's chagrin and astonishment +replied:</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have grown a foot, or thereby, Mr. Wogan, since last we met, on +an occasion which you will permit me to say that I can never forget. +All our differences are sunk for ever in that one consideration. I +implore you to leave me to the settlement of my pressing business.'</p> + +<p class="normal">So the Colonel knew of that unfortunate rescue at Preston. Wogan, +however, was not so easily put off.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Grown a foot, sir!' he cried. 'I am not the same man! You speak of a +boy, who died long ago; if he made a mistake in saving your life, +overlook a pure accident, and oblige me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The accident does not remove my obligation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'If you knew the truth, you would be sensible that there was no +obligation in the matter. Come, take a stroll in the Park, and I'll +tell the truth of the whole matter to whichever of us is alive to hear +it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I had the whole truth already, to-night, from the young lady.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The young lady?' Wogan had told Rose Townley of how he saved the life +of a Colonel Montague, and to-night he had informed her that this +Colonel was the man. She had been standing by his elbow when he had +picked his quarrel with Montague. Sure she had overheard and had +interfered to prevent it. 'The young lady!' he cried. 'All women are +spoil-sports. But, Colonel, you must not believe her. I made a great +deal of that story when I told it to Miss Townley. But you would find +it a very simple affair if you had it from an eye-witness.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yet the story was very circumstantial, how you leaped from the +barricades--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That were but two feet high.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And, through a cross fire of bullets, crossed the square to where I +lay--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The fire was a half charge of duckshot that an old fellow let off by +mismanagement from a rusty pistol. Both sides stopped firing the +moment I jumped over--the politest thing. I might have been tripping +down the Mall with a lady on my arm, for all the danger I ran.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But your wounds?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I slipped and cut my shin on the sharp cobbles, that's true.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan, it will not do! Had I known your name this evening when +Lady Mary made us acquainted, certain expressions properly distasteful +to you would not have escaped my lips. But now I can make amends for +them to the gallant gentleman who brought a wounded enemy out of a +cross-fire. I apologise to you, but I cannot oblige you to the extent +you wish, however you may attempt to make light of your courage, and +of the obligation on my side.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, Colonel, to be done with adornment of the real truth, I only +saved such a fine man to have the pleasure of killing him myself.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here the Colonel broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan, if I drew my sword and stood up before you without making +a parry or a lunge, would you kill me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, indeed, there would be little diversion in that game,' said +Wogan, who was now grown quite melancholic.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, that is the utmost you will get from me, I am much pressed for +time, and look to find another.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Another!' Wogan's failing hopes revived. 'Praise be to the Saints! I +see your mistake, and you shall understand it in a twinkling. The +other and myself are just one man for these purposes. George is my +<i>alter ego</i>. We are the greatest friends, and have been taken for each +other when we are talking. I'll talk all the time we fight, and you +can fancy it is George whose ribs you are trying to tickle.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel, however, was obdurate, and before Wogan could hit upon a +likelier argument both gentlemen heard a cough.</p> + +<p class="normal">Someone was standing on Lady Oxford's doorstep looking towards them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel coughed in reply, and the figure--it was Mr. +Kelly's--waved his hand, and marched, like the ghost of Hamlet's +father, toward St. James's Park.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel followed, like Hamlet, and Mr. Wogan followed the Colonel. +Would there be a fourth to follow Wogan? The three men marched in the +moonlight, their footsteps rang boldly on the road. Was there a fourth +behind them stealthily creeping in the shadow of the wall? As they +turned a corner out of the square Wogan fell a little further to the +rear. He kept his head screwed upon his shoulders, and he saw a shadow +slink round the corner. He listened, and heard the stealthy steps. He +stopped; the steps ceased. Wogan went on again. He knew that Scrope +was dogging them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The figure in front moved silently on till he reached a sweet spot for +an occasion, a little <i>clairière</i> among the trees, the smoothest +sward, moonlight on the grass, dark shadow all around. There he +stopped, turned, and dropped his cloak. The moon shone silvery on the +silver shoulder-knots of Mr. Kelly. The other two gentlemen advanced.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' exclaimed Kelly, 'you should be on your road to the coast.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'At last!' cried Colonel Montague, dropping his cloak.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A moment, sir,' said Kelly; 'I must dismiss my friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And would you be so mad? Are you to have nobody to see fair and run +for the surgeon while the other gentleman makes his escape? George, I +never knew you were so selfish.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly drew his friend a little way aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, I have that to do which cannot be done before a witness.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan merely gaped at this extraordinary speech. He noticed that +Kelly looked white and haggard even for a man in the full moonlight.</p> + +<p class="normal">'When I tell you that my honour hangs on it, that a witness is mere +ruin, when I pray you by our old friendship? Nick, you <i>must</i> go out +of eye-shot and ear-shot.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I think you are crazed,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have obeyed you all night. Things have taken the turn that you must +obey me. There is no time for an explanation, the hour presses, and, +Nick, my honour hangs on it. You must retire to where you can neither +see nor hear us, or I am shamed--lost with the Cause.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly had been whispering, his voice trembled as the Cause was +named. Wogan had only once seen him thus moved. Had he played his +trumps amiss after all? It seemed he had not won the game.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very well,' said Wogan. 'Good-night. I will take care you are not +troubled with witnesses.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Kelly suddenly, and then 'yes; goodnight.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood looking at Wogan a moment and then hurried off to the +Colonel, who seemed, to Wogan's judgment, a man apt to give the Parson +his bellyful. Wogan twitched his cloak about him, and took his road +down a path, bordered by bushes. It was the path by which they had +come into the Park. Wogan was determined that the Parson should not be +troubled by witnesses.</p> + +<p class="normal">From his boyhood Mr. Wogan has had a singular passion for +bird's-nesting. He idly scanned the bushes as he marched, for he had +heard a twig snap, and in a thick bush he saw what at a first glance +certainly resembled a very large brown bird's-nest. Looking more +narrowly at this curiosity there were shining eyes under the nest, a +circumstance rarely found in animated nature.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan paused and contemplated this novelty. The bush was deep; the +novelty was of difficult access because of the tangled boughs. Wogan +reckoned it good to show a puzzled and bemused demeanour, as of one +who has moored himself by the punch-bowl.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It's a very fine bird,' he said aloud. 'I wonder what is the exact +species this fine fowl may belong to?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he wagged his head in a tipsy manner, and so lurched down the +path singing:</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0">'I heard a bird</p> +<p class="t1">Sing in a bush,</p> +<p class="t0">And on his head</p> +<p class="t1">Was a bowl of punch,</p> +<p class="t8"><i>La-la-loodie!</i>'</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">But Wogan's eye was cocked back over his shoulder, for he hoped that +the fowl, thinking the hunter gone, would save him trouble by breaking +cover. The bush did not stir, however; all was deadly still.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan lurched back to the bush, still singing, parted the branches, +and peered in. His mind, in fact, was quite fixed as to the nature and +name of this nocturnal fowl.</p> + +<p class="normal">He spied into the bush. 'I have heard, in France, of a bird called +"the cuckoo Kelly,"' he said, 'I wonder if this can be <i>le cocu</i> +Scrope?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Something glittered in the heart of the bush. Mr. Wogan leaped aside, +his hat spun round on his head, he was near blinded by the flame and +smoke of a pistol discharged almost <i>à bout portant</i>. A figure had +scrambled out of the bush on the further side, and was running at a +great pace towards St. James's.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan gave a view halloo, and set off at the top of his own pace +in pursuit. He was swift of foot when young, sound of wind, and long +of stride.</p> + +<p class="normal">At every step he gained on the flying figure, which, he happily +remembered, might be armed with another pistol. These commodities +usually go in pairs. Reflecting on this, and reckoning his distance to +a mathematical nicety, Mr. Wogan applied his toe to that part of the +flying gentleman's figure which he judged most accessible and most +appropriate to his purpose. The flying gentleman soared softly into a +parabola, coming down with a crash, while a pistol fell from his hand. +As the priming was spilled, Mr. Wogan let the weapon lie, and +courteously assisted the prostrate person to rise.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I fear I stumbled over you, sir,' he said. 'I hope I was not so +unfortunate as to hurt you. Why, 'tis Mr. Scrope, the celebrated +critic and amateur of Virgil. Mr. Scrope, the writer of ballads.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are a brutal Irish bully,' said Scrope, whose hands and face were +bleeding, for he had the mischance to slip on a gravel path covered +with sharp little flints at the top of the Canal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, when last we met it was my poetry that you criticised, and now +'tis my manners that do not please you! How could I guess that it was +Mr. Scrope who lay in a bush to watch an explanation between +gentlemen? This time, sir, of your flight, you have not two horses to +carry you off, and I am not barefoot. Suppose we take up our +conversation where we left it when last you ran away? You have a sword +I see.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope's sword was already out, and he made a desperate pass at Wogan, +who broke ground and drew his own weapon. Scrope was no match for his +reach and skill in fence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, sir, our positions are altered,' said Wogan. 'Now it is you who +make errors, and I who play critic and instructor.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan made a parade in <i>contre de carte</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Look, sir, your blade was beaten a good half foot out of line. Had I +chosen to riposte, my sword-hilt would have rung on your breast-bone. +Ah, that was rather better,' he said, stepping a pace back, and +offering his breast full like a fencing master with his pupil. 'But +you did not really extend yourself. Now, sir, <i>un</i>, <i>deux</i>, <i>doublez</i>, +<i>dégagez</i>, <i>vite!</i>' and Mr. Wogan passed his sword through the lappet +of Scrope's coat, coming back on guard. 'That is how you ought to +lunge. There is another thing that I would have you notice. Coming on +rashly as you do, I could stop you at any moment with a time thrust. I +have only to extend my long arm, and where are you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope broke ground, sweating, and drew breath:</p> + +<p class="normal">'You cowardly <i>maître d'armes!</i>' he exclaimed between two pants.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Cowardly, sir? Am I a spy? Or a nameless, obscene rhymer? Do I carry +pistols and try to use them? Fie, Mr. Scrope, you must see that a +coward who meant to kill you would have done so long ago, and left you +here--with an insult, and without a surgeon. You remember the little +square at Avignon. You want another lesson.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan parried, riposted, and just grazed his opponent on the fore-arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Touché!</i>' he said. 'Now you see I do not mean to kill you: at least, +not with the sword. To do so would be to oblige a lady whom I have no +desire to please. Would you prefer to lay down your weapon and come +frankly to my embrace? You remember our fond hugs at Brampton Bryan? +By the way, Mr. Scrope,' asked Wogan, as an idea occurred to him, 'the +night is warm and you seem heated, do you swim? The place is +convenient for a bathe, and sheltered from coarse observation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">With this remark Wogan switched Scrope's sword out of his hand by a +turn of the wrist in <i>flanconade</i>. The blade flew up and fell flashing +in the water of the Canal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now, sir, your life is at my mercy. You have betrayed my Cause; you +have nearly murdered my friend; you have insulted two ladies of my +acquaintance; you have censured my poetry; and you have spoiled my hat +with your pistol bullet. I repeat, do you swim? There are two places +here mighty convenient for a ducking.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here Mr. Wogan caught his enemy by the collar.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Canal is shallow; Rosamond's Pool is deep. You have your choice; +safety and prose, or poetry and peril?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope was squirming in Wogan's grip like a serpent. When Mr. Wogan +had calmed him he carried Mr. Scrope like a babe to the edge of the +Canal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One, two, three!' he said, heaving Mr. Scrope backward and forward, +like children setting a swing in motion. 'And away!'</p> + +<p class="normal">A heavy body flew through the air, flashed into the Canal, and did not +at first arise to the surface.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I hope he has not hit his head or broken his neck,' said Wogan with +anxiety. 'It would be very disagreeable to have to wade for him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">His fears were soon set at rest. Scrope scrambled to his feet, the +water reaching nearly to his middle. In his dripping perruque he cut a +figure odd enough, and sufficiently pitiable.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A water god! A Triton!' cried Wogan. 'Have you a Virgil in your +pocket? You might study the marine deities whom you resemble. You are +sure you have again forgotten to bring the Virgil you desired for Mr. +Kelly's use at Avignon.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'D----n you, I shall see your bowels burned before your eyes for this, +you Popish traitor,' cried Scrope, shaking his fist.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is as may be. You have done what you can to that end already. +You have told all you know; as regards myself it is not very much, and +I am not in Newgate yet. Moreover, I know a way out. But stop, I +cannot possibly permit you to land, for Scrope was wading to the bank. +'Stay where you are and admire the moonshine! If you set foot on shore +I will merely throw you in again! You might be hurt.</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope turned and was beginning to wade to the other side of the +Canal.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It really is not safe in the middle if you do not swim,' cried Wogan. +'Moreover, I can easily be at the further bank before you.' Mr. Wogan +suited the action to the word. He ran round the bank as Scrope waded +across. He met his bedraggled victim at the water's edge. Mr. Wogan +uttered a joyful whoop; there was a great splash and again Scrope sank +beneath the surface. He regained his feet and rose spluttering. 'I do +trust, Mr. Scrope, that you are not hectic, or subject to rheumatism,' +said Wogan with sympathy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan walked to the centre of the path across the top of the Canal. He +spread his cloak upon the grass and sat down, contemplating the +moonlight on Buckingham House. There was a sweet odour of the budding +may in the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A more peaceful scene, Mr. Scrope,' he cried, 'I have rarely +witnessed. All the poet whom you tried to crush wakes in my bosom. I +shall recite Mr. Pope's celebrated Night piece for your benefit.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan then arose from his seat on the grass, and, raising his hand +towards the Moon, delivered Mr. Pope's lines in his best manner.</p> +<div class="poem1"> +<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8pt"> +'As when the Moon, refulgent lamp of Night,<br> +O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light.<br> +When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,<br> +And not a cloud o'erspreads the solemn scene.'</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">'You are not listening, Mr. Scrope!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope was listening, but not to Wogan. Wogan ceased from reciting and +listened also. He heard steps and voices of men approaching. +Presently, to his great amazement, he recognised the tones of Kelly +and Montague, whose mere existence had been banished from his mind. He +was yet more surprised when they both came in view, walking very +friendly together.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan rose as they drew near him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What, both of you?' he exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You do not seem to be glad to see us again, sir?' said Colonel +Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And devil a scratch between the pair of you!' cried Mr. Wogan. +'George, what does this mean? Am I to hear,' he asked with honest +indignation, 'that one of you has debased himself to an apology?'</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked from one to the other much perplexed in mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is too long a tale for the opportunity, Mr. Wogan,' said the +Colonel laughing. 'But <i>what</i> does that mean?'</p> + +<p class="normal">He pointed to the Water God in the perruque, whose shadow was +reflected in the calm bosom of the lake.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague,' cried Scrope, 'I appeal to you as a Protestant and +an officer of his Majesty's for your protection against an Irish, +Popish, Jacobite conspirator.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That gentleman,' said Wogan, 'whom I have been entertaining with Mr. +Pope's poem, is an English Protestant, Whig, spy, and murderer, and +even, I suspect, a writer in the newspapers. He persists in staying +out in the water there, where I cannot get at him. He is one of the +Maritime Powers. Egad! George, you know Mr. Scrope of Northumberland +and Grub Street?'</p> + +<p class="normal">George bowed to Mr. Scrope.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The fourth time you see, sir, has been lucky, contrary to the +proverb,' he said politely.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The poor devil's teeth are chattering audibly,' said Colonel +Montague. 'May I ask you to explain his situation, Mr. Wogan?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, sir, the story, as you say, is too long for the occasion. And +I want an explanation myself. After a gentleman has trod on another +gentleman's foot, here you both are, well and smiling. I am betrayed,' +cried Mr. Wogan, 'in the character of a friend. I could not have +thought it of George.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What was the pistol shot we heard, Nick?' asked Mr. Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That was Mr. Scrope firing at me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the view halloo that might have wakened the dead?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That was me remonstrating with Mr. Scrope. But I crave your pardon +for my thoughtlessness. No doubt the noise brought up some +ungentlemanly person who interrupted you in your explanation. You will +begin it again? Mr. Scrope and I will be delighted to see fair play, +but you will see it from the water, Mr. Scrope. You don't come out +yet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Our honours, about which you are so kindly concerned, Mr. Wogan, are +as intact as our persons,' said the Colonel.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then you have been finding out that George saved your life, or you +saved George's, some time in the dark ages, all to prevent you killing +each other in a friendly way?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are in an ingenious error, Mr. Wogan; but Mr. Johnson and I have +important business together in the town, and we must bid you farewell. +Pray allow that dripping gentleman to land and go to bed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But I cannot take him with me, and it is purely inconvenient to let +him follow me, for the precise reason that he would not follow me at +all, but my friend Mr. Johnson. I am like my countryman who caught a +Tartar in the Muscovite wars. To be sure, I might tie him to a tree +with his garters. Come out, Mr. Scrope, and be tied to a tree!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, no,' said the Colonel; 'your friend will die of a cold.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then what am I to be doing?' asked Wogan. 'He is a very curious +gentleman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I must leave that for you and your friend to determine,' said Colonel +Montague. He turned to Kelly. 'In ten minutes,' said he, moving off.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In ten minutes, Corydon,' said Kelly, and Wogan thought he heard the +Colonel mutter, 'Oh, damnation!'</p> + +<p class="normal">It was all Greek to Wogan, and Kelly seemed in no mind to translate +the Greek for his baser comprehension.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Be off, Nick,' said he. 'I have ten minutes to wait here, and for ten +minutes Mr. Scrope shall stand in the pond. You have that much law. It +is time enough for your long legs.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And do you think I am leaving Mr. Scrope to follow you while I go +quietly to bed?' asked Wogan, who was in truth hurt by the proposal. +'No. I shall take him with me. It is the best plan after all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will not matter, I think, whether he follows me or no; and, Nick, +as to going to bed, I hope it will not be on this side of the Channel. +Truth, I should be blaming you as it is for your delay, but I have no +heart to it.' He had dropped into the Irish accent, a thing very rare +with him. 'For the world topples about me to-night, and the sight of a +friend is very pleasant to me. There! It is all I had to say to you. +Good-night. Good-bye.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He clapped his hand on Wogan's shoulder and then sat himself down on +the grass. If Mr. Scrope had had his wits about him, he might have +chosen this occasion to creep out of the water, for Wogan was paying +little heed to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George,' said he, 'it seems the game has gone against you. But I have +the simplest plan imaginable to put matters straight. What if you give +me the key to that pretty despatch-box? You see if I go to your +lodging and am taken--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No!' cried Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But yes,' said Wogan, seating himself on the grass beside Kelly. 'If +I am taken, why, it's just Nick Wogan that's taken, and no one but +Nick Wogan is a penny the worse. But if you go and are taken--well, +there's the Doctor's daughter.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly would not listen to reason. It was not, he said, a mere matter +of slipping into the house and burning the cyphers. But a man must pay +for his own shortcomings, and the whole aspect of affairs had changed. +And then he fell to thanking Wogan, which thanks Wogan cut short; and +so they sat in the moonlight like a couple of owls, only they did not +talk.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are very thoughtful,' said Kelly, with a tired sort of laugh, +'and you have thought most of your ten minutes away.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I was thinking,' said Wogan, 'of a word you used to say about a +little parsonage in Ireland and your Latin books, and an acre or two +of land, and how, like a fool, I laughed at you for speaking so.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly rose very quickly to his feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Come, Nick,' said he almost sharply. 'My ten minutes are almost up. I +cannot watch Scrope after that, and you may just as well save your +life as lose it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I mean to take him with me,' said Wogan. 'Come out, my friend. I'll +give him the slip, never fear, when I want to.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And then you will start for France?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan did not mention a couple of obstacles which would at all +events delay his departure. In the first place he had a little matter +of business with Lord Sidney Beauclerk, and in the second it would be +no more than politeness to inquire after Kelly's health before he went +abroad. He kept silent upon this subject, and again summoned Scrope, +who waded with his teeth chattering from the water. He drove Scrope +before him along a bypath, leaving the Parson standing alone in the +moonlight. Mr. Wogan had no expectation that he would ever see his +friend's face again, and therefore he swore most heartily at Scrope.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Come, my man,' said he, 'I am to see that you do not catch cold,' and +he marched Scrope at a round pace eastwards as far as Temple Bar, and +thence northwards to Soho, and from Soho westwards.</p> + +<p class="normal">Scrope had been enjoined strictly not to open his lips; but, on the +other hand, he heard a great deal about his own character, his merits +as a poet, and the morals of his family, which was no doubt new to +him. Some three hours later, when the moon had long since set, the +pair came to the fields behind Holland House, and there Wogan took his +leave of Scrope. The man could do no more harm for that night, and he +had for the moment lost his taste for spying.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will stay here for five minutes,' said Wogan, who in five seconds +was lost in the darkness. He knew a shy place in Westminster where he +could pass the night undisturbed. As he laid his head on the pillow it +seemed to him to be a good year since he had driven off from Sir Harry +Goring's house in the morning. And what of the Parson, whom he had +last seen, a sombre figure in the moonlight by the water of St. +James's Park? Well, the night had only then begun for Kelly, who, to +be sure, had lain abed all the day before.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">IN WHICH MR. KELLY SURPRISES SMILINDA</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The devil in all this affair, it was that Wogan could not be in two, +or even three, places at once. While Kelly was shut in with Lady +Oxford earlier, Mr. Wogan, as he has said, was on the wrong side of +the door. There he was again, after the rout, while he conversed with +Colonel Montague in the street. Again, while Wogan was busy with Mr. +Scrope in St. James's Park, Kelly and the Colonel were exchanging +their unknown explanations, of a kind not admired by Mr. Wogan, which +ended in their walking, like a pair of brothers, towards George's +rooms. In all these conjunctures Mr. Wogan's advice, could he have +been present, might have been serviceable, or at least his curiosity +must have been assuaged.</p> + +<p class="normal">What did pass between Kelly and Lady Oxford when the rout was over, +and what were the considerations which induced George and the Colonel +to resist their natural and mutual desire for an honourable +satisfaction?</p> + +<p class="normal">These questions (that perplexed Wogan when he awoke, about noon, from +the fatigue of the previous day) were answered later by Kelly, and the +answer must be given before the later adventures and sorrows of George +can be clearly narrated. Sure, no trifle could have turned sword and +gown into friends that night.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Lady Oxford and Kelly were left alone in the empty rooms, among +the waning candles and scattered cards, Lady Oxford marched, like +indignant royalty, to the end of the inner withdrawing-room, where +they could not be heard or interrupted without warning.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly followed with a mind made up. It was, after all, Lady Oxford +that had betrayed him, but he had, by an accident of forgetfulness, +kept her letters, and they now gave him the advantage. If those +letters could be saved, the Chevalier's papers could and should be +saved too, and himself rescued from peril and Rose from much +unhappiness. Rose was at the bottom of his thoughts that night; her +face was mirrored there bright, it seemed, with divinity. The +Chevalier was there too, no doubt, but Rose peeped over his shoulder. +Mr. Kelly, then, hardened his heart, and, for love and loyalty, meant +to push his advantage over Lady Oxford to its limits. He approached +her as she stood retired.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wretch,' cried Lady Oxford, 'you promised to burn my letters. Of all +traitors you are the most abandoned and perfidious.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson thought that memory supplied him with a parallel, but he +replied:</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a promise all men make and all men break.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford struck her hand upon a table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You swore you had burned them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This time George was less ready with his answer, but her ladyship +stood awaiting it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My passion must be my excuse, madam; I could not bear to part with +these elegant testimonies of your esteem. It is as I have the honour +to tell your ladyship; the brocades are in my strong box in my +lodgings. To-morrow they shall be restored to your hands.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To-morrow!' she said, in a voice of despair. 'To-morrow! I am +undone!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is not so long to wait for the finery, and I do not think the +streets are so purely unsafe as you suppose.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am undone!' she repeated. 'The public will ring of my name. I shall +become a byword, a thing of scorn for every scribbler to aim his wit +at.'</p> + +<p class="normal">She gnawed her fingers in an agony of fear and perplexity. Mr. Kelly +had learned enough. There was plainly no chance within the lady's +knowledge, as he had hoped, of saving her letters. Neither, then, +could the King's papers be saved. He bowed, and took a step towards +the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Stop!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly turned with alacrity at the eager cry, but Lady Oxford had +no words of hope for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You must not leave this house to-night, or must leave it secretly by +the garden.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly smiled grimly. Her ladyship was suddenly grown most tender of +her reputation now that it was in peril.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship's care for me, and your hospitality overcome me, but I +have, as you perhaps remarked, an assignation of honour with Colonel +Montague which nothing must prevent me from keeping. He is longing for +an instant revenge--at the Hazard Table. A while ago, you may pardon +me for observing, your ladyship was remote from feeling this sudden +and violent anxiety on my hand.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly's irony was poured out to deaf ears. Lady Oxford paced to +and fro about the room, wringing her hands in her extremity. Then she +stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I might drive to the Minister's.' She reached out a hand towards the +bell. Kelly shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That visit would be remarked upon unfavourably by the friends of my +Lord Oxford, who are not in the Minister's interest. Mr. Walpole has +no party to-night, and must have gone to bed--'tis verging on two +o'clock--or else he is in his cups. Moreover, the <i>Dolliad</i>, the +ballad on his sister, was credited to your pen. You know that Mr. +Walpole loves a broad jest, and loves revenge. He will not protect you +nor miss so fair an opportunity. Nay, I think I read in to-morrow's +<i>Flying Post</i>, "In the papers of the prisoner Kelly, among other +treasonable matter reserved for a later occasion, were found the +following letters of a high curiosity, which we are graciously +permitted to publish; one begins--<i>Oh, my Delicious Strephon</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford snapped her fan between her fingers and dashed the +fragments in Kelly's face. He owns that he cannot well complain she +served him ill, but he wanted to repay her in some sort for her +innuendo about his fate at the hangman's hands, and similar favours. +Beholding her passion, which was not unjust, he felt bitterly ashamed +of his words.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You coward!' she said. Her dark eyes glared at him from a face white +as the ivory of her broken fan, and then, quite suddenly, she burst +into a storm of tears. Kelly's shame was increased a thousandfold.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I humbly crave your ladyship's pardon,' he said. 'I have spoken in +terms unworthy of a chairman. But some remarks of your ladyship's on a +future event, to me of painful interest, had left an unhappy +impression.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Lady Oxford paid no heed to the stammered apology. As Mr. Kelly +moved to her she waived him aside with her hands, and, dropping on to +a sofa, pressed her weeping face into the cushions. Sobs shook her; +she lay abandoned to distress.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly stood apart and listened to the dolorous sound of her +weeping. That was true which she had said; he had promised to burn +those letters; he had sworn that he had burned them. His fine plan of +using them as a weapon against her began to take quite another +complexion. There were, no doubt, all manner of pious and respectable +arguments to be discovered in favour of the plan, if only he pried +about for them. But a saying of Mr. Scrope's was suddenly scrawled out +in his recollections: 'Æneas was an army chaplain who invoked his +religion when he was tired of the lady, and so sailed away with a +clear conscience.' Kelly murmured 'Rose' to himself, and, again, +'Rose,' seeking to fortify himself with the mention of her name. But +it had the contrary effect. Even as he heard his lips murmuring it, +the struggle was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">George had a number of pretty finical scruples, of which his conduct +at this crisis of his fortunes was a particular example. He relates +how it seemed to him that at the mention of her name Rose threw out a +hand to him and drew him up out of a slough; how he understood that +his fine plan was unworthy of any man, and entirely despicable in the +man whom she, out of her great condescension, had stooped to love; how +he became aware that he owed it to her, since she was a woman, that no +woman's fame, whether a Smilinda's or no, should be smirched by any +omission of his; how he suddenly felt in his very marrow that it would +dishonour Rose to save her even from great misery by a <i>lâcheté</i> +towards another of her sex. His duty was revealed to him in that +moment, as clear as it was unexpected. He sets his revulsion of +feeling wholly to Rose's account, as a man in love should, but very +likely her ladyship's fan had something to do with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke again to Lady Oxford, and very gently.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam, it is true. I promised to burn your letters. I swore that I +had burned them. My honour, I perceive, can only be saved by saving +yours.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford raised her head from the cushions and stared at him with +wondering eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Let us play this game <i>cartes sur table</i>,' continued Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship rose from her sofa and sat herself in a chair at a table, +still wondering, still suspicious. George took the chair on the other +side of the table, and spoke while Lady Oxford dried the tears upon +her face. To help her at all he must know all that she knew. His first +business was to remove her ladyship's suspicions.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I understand that your ladyship, by some means of which I am as yet +ignorant, has become aware of a certain Plot, and has carried the +knowledge to Mr. Walpole.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford neither agreed nor denied. She admitted the truth of Mr. +Kelly's statement in her own way.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You bragged and blabbed to my worst enemy, to Lady Mary, with her +poisonous pen,' and her fine features writhed with hatred as she spoke +Lady Mary's name.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There your ladyship was misled,' returned Kelly. 'My lips have been +sealed, as I already had the honour to inform you. My Lady Mary may +not love you, but she is innocent of this offence. If she wrote those +rhymes, she was, indeed, more my enemy than yours; and my enemy, as +your ladyship is aware, she is not.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford understood the strength of the argument.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, yes,' she said thoughtfully. 'The apothecary's daughter!'</p> + +<p class="normal">The contemptuous phrase slipped from Lady Oxford by mistake, and was +not at all uttered in a contemptuous voice. But she had no doubt +fallen into a habit of so terming the girl in her thoughts. None the +less, however, it stung Mr. Kelly, who was at some trouble to keep his +voice gentle. He knew how much Smilinda owed at this moment to the +apothecary's daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The young lady to whom I conceive you refer, Miss Townley, is of a +family as ancient, loyal, and honourable as your ladyship's own, and +you may have seen on what terms both ladies were this evening. +Moreover, Lady Mary was purely ignorant of Miss Townley's very +existence when that pasquinade was written.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then who wrote it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Scrope, as I have the honour to repeat.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Scrope?' she answered in a quick question, as though for the first +time she understood that George might well be right. He gave the +reasons for his belief as he had given them at the Deanery to Nicholas +Wogan. They were to the last degree convincing. Lady Oxford was +persuaded long before Mr. Kelly had come to an end. A look came into +her face which Kelly could not understand, a look of bitter +humiliation. 'Scrope,' she muttered, as her fingers played with the +cards upon the table. She overturned a card which lay face downwards +on the table, and it chanced to be the knave of hearts.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship now sees that you fell into a natural error,' continued +Kelly, who was anxious to smooth Lady Oxford's path, 'in consequence +of which you took a natural revenge. May I ask how you secured the +means of revenge? How, in a word, you came to know of the hidden Plot +within the Plot?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship's answer fairly startled Mr. Kelly. It was not given at +once. She still played with the cards, and overturned another. It was +the knave of clubs.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The cards tell you,' she said with a bitter smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly leaned back in his chair open-mouthed. 'Scrope?' he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Scrope,' replied her ladyship. 'I received a humble letter from him +praying that I would forgive his odious ingratitude, and, by way of +peace-offering, bidding me tell my Lord Oxford--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Who had already withdrawn,' said George. 'I think I understand,' Lady +Oxford's look of humiliation had enlightened him, 'and I think your +ladyship understands with me. Mr. Scrope is a sort of a gentleman, and +would prefer to do his dirty work without appearing as a spy. He has +made use of your ladyship. He sends you the Plot and spurs you to +disclose it with his ballad. He would have disclosed it himself, I +doubt not, had not your ladyship served his turn. But Mr. Scrope has +his refinements, and, besides that he spares himself, would take a +particular pleasure in compassing my ruin at the same time that he +outwitted you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Little wonder that Lady Oxford broke in upon Mr. Kelly's reasonings. +It must have been sufficiently galling for her to reflect that in +exacting her revenge she had been the mere instrument of a man she had +tossed aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is both of us that he has ruined, not you alone,' she cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">Certainly, Mr. Scrope was a person to reckon with, and had killed +quite a covey of birds with one stone.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Are you sure?' asked Kelly. 'Are you sure of that?'</p> + +<p class="normal">She bent across the table eagerly, but she did not reply to the +question.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you kill Scrope,' she flashed out, 'and you and I part friends?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly, even in the midst of this tangle of misfortunes, could not but +smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I fear that I may have been anticipated. Mr. Scrope has been watching +your ladyship's house to-night--and Mr. Wogan observed him, and, I +conceive, has undertaken for him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford at that smiled too. 'Then he is a dead man,' she said, +slowly savouring her words like wine.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But his death, madam, will not save your letters,' said Kelly; and +the fire died out of her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He has betrayed us both,' she moaned. It seemed she had already +forgotten how she herself had seized at the occasion of betraying Mr. +Kelly. Kelly was in no mood to debate these subtleties.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Are you sure?' he contented himself with asking for a second time. +'There is one thing Mr. Scrope has not done. He has taken no measures +purposely to insure that your letters will be discovered, since he +does not know of them; else, no doubt, he would have done his worst. +We two are still engaged in a common cause--your ladyship's. Your +intentions in my regard I were much less than a man if I did not +forgive, granting (what I now know) your ladyship's erroneous +interpretation of my ground of offence, the babbling to Lady Mary. +Does your ladyship permit me, then, at the eleventh hour, to save you, +if I can find a way, from the odious consequences of Mr. Scrope's +unparalleled behaviour?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford's brows were drawn together in perplexity. The notion that +Mr. Kelly was prepared to do this thing was still new and strange to +her.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You?' Her eyes searched his for the truth of his purpose, and found +it. 'You?' she said again, but in a voice of gratitude and +comprehension. And then, with a gesture of despair, she thrust her +chair back and stood up. 'You cannot save yourself. I cannot save +you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' replied George, 'myself I cannot save; but it may not be too +late to save my honour, which is now wrapped up in that of your +ladyship's. My case is desperate; what can be done for yours? Be plain +with me. How much does your ladyship know?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford turned away from the table. In the face of Kelly's +generosity no doubt she hesitated to disclose the whole truth of her +treachery.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I know no more than that you are in peril of arrest,' she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam, surely you know more than that. You spoke earlier this evening +of my arrest, and you spoke with the assurance of a more particular +knowledge.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford took a turn across the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, my God, what can I do?' she cried, lifting her hands to her head. +'I hear Lady Mary's laughter and the horrid things they will say!'</p> + +<p class="normal">The whimsical inconsequence of Smilinda's appeal to her Maker did not +fail to strike Kelly as ludicrous, but, as his own case was hopeless +and abandoned, any thought of revenge or mockery had ceased to agitate +him. His honour now stood in saving all that was left of hers from +open and intolerable shame, and Rose beckoned him to the task.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Surely you know more,' he persisted quietly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford gave in and came back to the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Messengers should be waiting for you in Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At last Kelly knew the worst. He would be taken before he reached his +doorstep. There would be no chance of saving the cyphers in his strong +box. Could he save Smilinda's letters?</p> + +<p class="normal">He bent his forehead upon his hands, thinking. Smilinda watched him; +her lips moved as though she was praying.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I might be carried to your lodgings and claim what is mine,' she +suggested.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You would be carried to a trap--a <i>souricière</i>. Ten to one you would +be arrested by the Messengers. At all events your visit would be +remarked upon, and you would not obtain the letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford had no other proposal at hand, and there was silence in +the room. Mr. Kelly remained with his face buried in his hands; he +took the air in long deep breaths. No other sound was audible except +the faint ticking of the clock in the outer withdrawing-room. For +Smilinda was holding her breath lest she should disturb the man whom +she had betrayed, and who was now wholly occupied with the attempt to +save her. Then she remarked that the sound of his breathing ceased. +She bent forwards; he raised his face to hers. He did not seem to see +her; his eyes kindled with hope.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have found a way?' she whispered; and he whispered back:</p> + +<p class="normal">'A desperate chance, but it may serve.' He started to his feet. 'It +must serve.'</p> + +<p class="normal">A smile brightened over his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will serve.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Sure he showed as much pleasure as if he had discovered an issue for +himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Quick!' said Smilinda, with a smile to answer his. 'Tell me!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What of him? Why speak to me now of him?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford's face had clouded at the name.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He is your only salvation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What can he do?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Everything we need. His loyalty to the present occupant of the Throne +is entirely beyond a suspicion. He can act as he will without peril to +his reputation. He can even rescue your papers, which are not in the +same strong box as my own. The Colonel, if any man, can assist you if +he will.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he will not,' said her ladyship sullenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He will,' answered Kelly confidently, 'if properly approached. He is +a man of honour, I take it? You will pardon me for saying that your +ladyship's flattering behaviour towards me, in his presence (for the +nature of which you had, doubtless, your own particular reasons) can +have left him in no doubt on certain heads; while it is equally plain +that your ladyship hath no longer any very tender interest in keeping +his esteem and regard. Nevertheless, being a gentleman, he will not +abandon your ladyship's cause.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford was in no way comforted.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It may well be as you say,' she returned with a look at Mr. Kelly. +She had already one example of how much a gentleman could forgive a +woman when she stood in need of his help. 'But, Mr. Kelly, you cannot +come at Colonel Montague.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why not?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You know very well that he lodges in the same house as yourself. I +sent a lackey with a note to you, yesterday. And your reply was dated +from 13 Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly stepped back, he could hardly believe his ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague--lodges--in the same house as myself?' he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' Lady Oxford replied in a dispirited fashion. She had lost heart +altogether. Mr. Kelly, on the other hand, was quite lifted up by the +unexpected news.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This is a mere miracle in nature,' he cried. 'I only went into my +present lodgings two days ago. I have been abroad for the greater part +of the time, and asleep the rest, and have had no knowledge of the +other tenants, even of their names. 'Faith, madam, your letters are as +safe as though the ashes were now cold in your grate.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But the Colonel will have gone home, and you are to be taken in Ryder +Street. You will not get speech with him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nay, madam, he has not gone home. He is waiting for me now.' Lady +Oxford started. 'Ah, your ladyship remembers. He is waiting for me. +Ten yards from your doorstep--ten yards at the farthest,' and Kelly +actually chuckled. Carried away by his plan, he began to pace the room +as he unfolded it. 'I shall see the Colonel, and if I can by any means +do so, I will acquaint him, as far as is necessary, with the +embarrassing posture of your affairs. I shall give him the key of the +box containing the--brocades, and, if the Messengers be not already in +possession of them, the rest must be entrusted to his honour as a +gentleman and a soldier. The unexpected accident of our being +fellow-lodgers gives him, to this end, a great advantage, and can +scarce have occurred without the providence of--some invisible power +or another which watches over your ladyship.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly thought that Lady Oxford this night had enjoyed what is called +the Devil's own luck.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Have I your ladyship's leave to try my powers of persuasion with +Colonel Montague?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Very much to Kelly's surprise she moved towards him, like one walking +in her sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are bleeding,' she said, and stanched with her handkerchief some +drops from his brow, where it had been cut by the broken edges of the +ivory fan. Then she went again into a bitter fit of weeping, which +Kelly could never bear to see in a woman. She may have remembered the +snow upon the lawn, years ago, and a moment's vision of white honour. +Then she stinted in her crying as suddenly as she had begun; in a time +incredibly short you could not tell that she had wept.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You must carry a token. I must write. Oh my shame!' she said, and +sitting down to a scrutoire, wrote rapidly and briefly, sanded the +paper, and offered it open to Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I cannot see it; your ladyship must seal it,' he said, which she did +with a head of Cicero.</p> + +<p class="normal">George took the note, and said: 'Now time presses, madam. I must be +gone. I trust that, if not now, at least later, you may forgive me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her lips moved, but no words came forth. Kelly made his bow, and so +took leave of Smilinda, she gnawing her lips, as she watched him with +her inscrutable eyes, moodily pushing to and fro with her foot the +broken pieces of the fan on the polished floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">There came into Kelly's fancy his parting view of Rose at Avignon, her +face framed among the vine leaves, in the open window; she leaning +forth, with a forced smile on her dear lips and waving her kerchief in +farewell. A light wind was stirring her soft hair at that time, and +she crying '<i>Au revoir</i>! <i>Au revoir!</i> There was a scent of lilacs from +the garden in the air of April, George remembered, and now the candles +were dying in the sconces with a stench.</p> + +<p class="normal">With these contrasted pictures of two women and two farewells in his +fancy, Kelly was descending the wide empty staircase, not knowing too +well where he went. Something seemed to stir, he lifted his eyes and +before him he saw again the appearance of his King: the King, young +and happy, and as beautiful as the dawn that was stealing into the +room and dimming the lustres on the stairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the appearance moved aside, and Kelly found himself gazing into a +great empty mirror that hung on the wall, facing the gallery above.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney Beauclerk, in fact, had not left the house with the other +guests, and Kelly, remembering, laughed aloud as he reached the fresh +air without.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">AN ECLOGUE WHICH DEMONSTRATES THE PASTORAL +SIMPLICITY OF CORYDON AND STREPHON</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Wogan has told already how Kelly came out of the house in Queen's +Square, how he led the way to the glade, so convenient for the +occasion, and how he dismissed his friend. George has since declared +that he never was more tossed up and down in his mind than during that +trifle of a promenade. Here was the Colonel that had insulted him, and +wished nothing, more or less, than to cut his clerical throat. And +here was Kelly, that must make friends with his enemy, if he was to +save his honour, and the reputation, such as it was, of the woman whom +he had once loved. It was a quandary. If Kelly began by showing a flag +of truce, the Colonel, as like as not, would fire on it by way of a +kick or cuff, and then a friendly turn to the conversation would be +totally out of the possible. Had Kelly been six inches taller than he +was and a perfect master of his weapon, he might have trusted to the +chance of disarming the Colonel and then proposing a cartel, but +unhappily it was the Elector's officer who possessed these advantages. +Thus Kelly could think of nothing except to get rid of Mr. Wogan's +presence as a witness of the explanation. He succeeded in that, and +then marched back to the Colonel, who had stood aside while George +conversed with his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly waited, as the wiser part, till the Colonel should show his +hand. But the Colonel also waited, and there the two gentlemen stood +speechless, just out of thrust of each other, while every convenience +in nature called on them to begin.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last the Colonel cleared his throat and said, 'Reverend Mr. +Lace-Merchant, I am somewhat at a loss as to how I should deal with +you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, it is my own case,' thought George to himself, but all he +uttered was, 'Gallant Mr. Drill-Sergeant, the case seems clear enough. +You trod on my foot, and,' said George, as he let his cloak slip from +his shoulders to the ground, 'you invited me to take a walk; what +circumstance now befogs your intellects?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly's instincts, naturally good, though dimmed a trifle by a learned +education and a clerical training, showed him but that one way out of +the wood.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Several circumstances combine, sir. Thus, I do not want to save the +hangman a job. Again, my respect for your cloth forbids me to draw +sword on you, and rather prompts to a public battooning tomorrow in +St. James's. I therefore do but wait to favour you with this warning, +which is more than a trafficker of your kidney deserves.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Truth, sir, if you wait to cane me till to-morrow, I have every +reason to believe that you may wait a lifetime. As to cloth, mine is +as honourable as ever a German usurper's livery.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This did not promise a friendly conclusion, but George was ever +honourably ready to support the honour of his gown, and he confesses +that, at this moment, he somewhat lost sight of his main object.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel stepped forward with uplifted cane, a trifle of +tortoise-shell and amber, in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">George drew back one pace and folded his arms on his breast. His eyes, +which are of an uncommon bright blue, were fixed on the Colonel's.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will find, sir, if you advance one foot, that I do not stand kick +or cuff. You are dealing with one who knows his weapon' (no experience +could cure George of this delusion), 'and who does not value his life +at a straw. Moreover, you began a parley for which I did not ask, +though I desired it, and I have to tell you that your honour is +involved in continuing this conversation in quite another key.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George stepped forward the pace he had withdrawn, and clasped his +hands behind his back, watching the Colonel narrowly.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something in his voice, more in his eyes. The Colonel had +seen fire, and knew a brave man when he met one. He threw down his +cane and Kelly reckoned that the worst of his task was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You may compel me to fight,' George went on, 'and I never went to a +feast with a better stomach, but first I have certain words that must +be spoken to you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You cannot intend to escape by promising a discovery?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, I do not take you for a Messenger or a Minister. One or both I +can find without much seeking, and, for that sufficient reason, before +they lay hands on me I absolutely demand to speak to you on a matter +closely touching your own honour, which, as I have never heard it +impeached, I therefore sincerely profess my desire to trust.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are pleased to be complimentary, but I know not how my honour can +be concerned with a Jacobite trafficker and his treasons.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I make you this promise, that, if you do thus utterly refuse to +listen for five minutes, I will give you every satisfaction at the +sword's point, or, by God! will compel you to take it, as you have +been pleased to introduce battoons into a conversation between +gentlemen. And if, when you have heard me, you remain dissatisfied, +again I will give you a lesson with sharps. You see that we are not +likely to be interrupted, and that I am perfectly cool. This is a +matter to each of us of more than life or death.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I do see that you desire to pique my curiosity for the sake of some +advantage which I am unable to perceive. Perhaps you expect your +friends on the scene?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You may observe that I began by dismissing the only friend I have in +this town. Do you, perhaps, suspect that Mr. Nicholas Wogan needs, or +has gone to procure, assistance?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I confess that I know that gentleman too well for any such +suspicions.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then, sir, remember that the Roman says <i>noscitur a sociis</i>, and +reflect that I am a friend of Mr. Wogan's, who must stand sponsor, as +you do not know me, for my honesty. Moreover,' said George, working +round by a risky way to his point, 'had I wished to escape I could, +instead of socking you, have sneaked off t'other way. You observed +that I remained some minutes with a lady to-night after you and the +rest of her company had withdrawn?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is very like your impudence to remind me of that among other +provocations! I am not concerned in your merchant's business of +brocades.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, indeed, with your pardon, you are concerned in the highest +degree, and that is just the point I would bring you to consider.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I tire of your mysteries, sir,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. +'Speak on, and be brief.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'On these brocades turns the question whether the honour of a lady, +which you are bound to cherish, shall be the laughing-stock of the +town. Sir, in a word, you, and you only, can save that person; need I +say more?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Did she send you with this message to save your own skin?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That is past saving, except by a miracle, which I am in no situation +to expect will be wrought for me. Understand me, sir, I am out of hope +of earthly salvation. I have nothing to gain, nothing to look for from +man. I make you freely acquainted with that position of my affairs, +which are purely desperate. And the person of whom we speak looks to +you as her sole hope in the world. She sends you this, take it, I know +not the contents, the seal, as you perceive, being unbroken.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'This looks more serious,' said the Colonel, taking the sealed note +which Kelly handed to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He pored over the letter, holding it up to the moonlight. 'Do as the +bearer bids you, if you would have me live,' he read; then, with a +bitter laugh, he tore the note into the smallest shreds, and was about +to dash them down on the grass.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Hold, sir,' Kelly said; 'preserve them till you can burn them. Or--I +have myself swallowed the like before now.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel stared, and put the fragments into his pocket-book.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' he said, 'I am hearing you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thank you, sir; you will grant that I did not wrong you in trusting +your generosity. If I am a free man to-morrow, or even to-night after +this business is done, I shall have the honour of meeting you, +wherever you are pleased to appoint. For my cloth have no scruple, I +never was more than half a parson.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, I shall treat you as you may merit. And now for your commands, +which, it seems, I am in a manner under the necessity to obey.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You see this key, sir,' said Kelly, offering that of one of his +strong boxes, 'take it, go to my lodgings, which, by a miracle, are in +the same house as your own. Enter my parlour, 'tis on the ground +floor; open the small iron strong box which this key fits, and burn +all the--brocades which you find there.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'This is a most ingenious stroke of the theatre! I am to burn, I +perceive, all the papers, or brocades as you call them, which damn you +for a Jacobite plotter! It is not badly contrived, sir, but you have +come to the wrong agent I am acquainted with the ingenious works of +the French playwrights.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, you compel me, against my will, to be more plain with you than I +desire. It is your own fault if I give you concern. On opening the +coffer you may satisfy yourself of the hand of the writer, which +cannot but be familiar to you. Moreover, the letters of the person for +whom we are concerned are addressed (that you may not make the error +which you apprehend) to one Strephon--not a cant name of a political +plot.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She called you--Strephon?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She was so kind.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And I was Corydon,' groaned the Colonel between his teeth.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Arcades ambo!</i>' said George. 'But now 'tis the hour of a third +shepherd! Lycidas, perhaps, <i>le plus heureux des trois</i>. Oh, Colonel, +be easy, we are both yesterday's roses, or, rather, I am the rose of +the day before yesterday.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And it is for this woman--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ay, it is just for this woman that you are to risk your commission, +for a risk there may be, and I my life, for I could get away from this +place. You perceive that we have no alternative?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What must be, must,' he said, after some moments of thought; 'but +what if I find the Messengers already in possession of your effects?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'In that case I must depend solely on your own management and +invention. But I may say that gold will do much, nay, everything with +such fellows, and your position, moreover, as a trusted officer of +your King's, will enable you to satisfy men not very eminent for +scruples.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Gold! I have not a guinea, thanks to the cards, not a stiver in my +rooms to-night. The cards took all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here, at least,' cried George, 'I can offer some kind of proof of my +honesty, and even be of service. I am poor, Heaven knows, but there +are my winnings, easily enough to corrupt four Messengers. Use the +money; I have friends who will not let me starve in the Tower. Nay, +delicacy is purely foolish. I insist that you take it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson,' the Colonel said, 'you are a very extraordinary man.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, I am an Irishman,' said George.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will not say that I never met one like you, but I hope, after all +accounts are settled between us, to have the advantage of your +acquaintance. Sir, <i>au revoir</i>.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall be with you, sir, in ten minutes after your arrival in your +lodgings, whether the coast be clear or not. But let me attend you +across the Park, as far as the corner of Pall Mall Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">If Kelly was an Irishman, Montague was an Englishman, and Kelly was +well enough acquainted with that nation to know that the last proof +given of his disinterestedness was by much the most powerful he could +have used. He reflected again on the Devil's own luck of Smilinda that +night, for if the cards had gone contrary to her and George he could +not have produced this demonstration of his loyalty, nor could he very +well have invited the Colonel to pay the piper out of his own pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel also walked silently, turning about in his mind all the +aspects of this affair.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I understand,' he said, 'that you are upon honour not to involve me +in tampering with anything disaffected? You will take no advantage +whatever that may give <i>me</i> the air of being concerned, to shelter +yourself or your party?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have my word for it, sir. Your honour, next to that in which we +are equally concerned, is now my foremost consideration.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded, then sighed, as one not very well satisfied.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Things may come to wear a very suspicious complexion, but I must risk +a little; the worse the luck. Mr. Johnson, neither of us has been very +wise in the beginnings of this business.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I came to that conclusion rather earlier than you, sir, and on very +good evidence.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No doubt,' growled Montague, and he muttered once or twice, +'Strephon, Corydon--Corydon, Strephon.' Then he turned unexpectedly to +Kelly. 'You mentioned these letters as I was leaving the room, and I +noticed that her ladyship grew white. She kept you, she knew then of +the danger you were in and has just informed you of it. Now, how came +she to have so particular a knowledge of your danger?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly did not answer a question which boded no good for Lady +Oxford. 'She had grounds of resentment against you in a certain +ballad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly seized at the chance of diverting Montague from his suspicions, +and showed how the ballad was aimed at him no less than at her +ladyship, and, without giving the Colonel time to interrupt,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Here I must bid you <i>au revoir</i>, sir,' he said, 'for some ten +minutes, time enough for you to do what is needed, if, as I hope, you +are not disturbed. The Messengers, I conceive, will be lurking for me +in Ryder Street outside our common door; they will not think of +preventing you from entering, and before I arrive, whatever befalls +<i>me</i>, our common interest will be secured.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are determined to follow?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What else can I do? I must know the end of this affair of the +brocades. It is not wholly impossible that the Messengers have wearied +of waiting, and think to take me abed to-morrow. When you have done +what you know, you will leave my room, and I, if I am not taken, have +some arrangements of my own to make. That, I presume, is not a breach +of my engagement with you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Certainly not, sir. When I have left your room I am in no sense +responsible for your actions. I wish you good fortune.'</p> + +<p class="normal">While they thus walked and were sad enough, they came within ear-shot +of Wogan, who, at that moment, was declaiming Mr. Pope's Night piece +to Mr. Scrope, who was in the Canal.</p> + +<p class="normal">What conversation passed between the four gentlemen Wogan has already +told, and he has mentioned how the Colonel went away, and how, after +using pains to prevent Mr. Scrope from catching a cold, he himself +withdrew to court slumber, and left Mr. Kelly alone in the moonlight.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly did not remain in the open, but lay <i>perdu</i> on the shadowy +side of the grove. Concealing himself from any chance of a rencounter, +he allotted a space of twelve minutes by his watch, and time never +paced more tardy with him in all his life. There was in his favour but +the one chance that the Messengers might choose to take him abed in +the early morning, when the streets would be empty. At this moment St. +James's Street was full of chairs and noises; night-rakers were +abroad, and the Messengers, who are not very popular, might fear a +rescue by the rabble. On this chance Kelly fixed his hopes, for if he +could but be alone for ten minutes in his lodgings, he and his friends +would have little to fear from any evidence in his possession.</p> + +<p class="normal">If the Colonel succeeded, Lady Oxford, and, with her ladyship, +George's honour, were safe. If, by an especial miracle of heaven, +George could have a few minutes alone in his room, the Cause and the +faithful of the Cause would be safe. The Colonel, Kelly hoped, could +hardly fail to do his part of the work; he would enter his own rooms +unchallenged, his uniform and well-known face must secure him as much +as that, and the Epistles of Smilinda would lie in ashes.</p> + +<p class="normal">So he hoped, but nothing occurred as he anticipated.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">HOW THE MESSENGERS CAPTURED THE WRONG +GENTLEMAN; AND OF WHAT LETTERS THE +COLONEL BURNED.</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">For Colonel Montague was taken in Mr. Kelly's place, as you may see +with your own eyes in his Grace of Dorset's Report to the Lords' +Committees, where the informations of John Hutchins and Daniel +Chandler, described as 'two of his Majesty's Messengers in Ordinary,' +are printed. These did not chance to be men of a very high degree of +intelligence, as their own confessions bear testimony, in itself a +fortunate circumstance.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague, when he parted from the Parson at the grove in St. +James's Park, walked into Pall Mall Street by the path at the corner +of St. James's House and up to St. James's Street to the corner of +Ryder Street, where he turned. Ryder Street, what with gentlemen +walking home on the footpaths and chairs carried in the road, was a +busy thoroughfare at this time of the night, and he remarked nothing +extraordinary until he was close to his own doorstep. Then he +distinguished, or rather seemed to distinguish--for in the doubtful +light he could not be certain--at a little distance on the opposite +side of the road a man in the blue and silver livery of Lady Oxford. +The man was loitering at the edge of the path, taking a few steps now +this way now that. He was tall, and not unlike Mr. Wogan in his girth. +Now, Colonel Montague was aware that her ladyship possessed a lackey +of just such a conspicuous figure.</p> + +<p class="normal">'For once in a while,' he thought, 'the news-sheet spoke truth +to-night. It seems it was Lady Oxford that set the reverend non-juror, +for here is her lackey to point him out to the Messengers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">With this thought urging him to get his business done quickly, +Montague walked up to his door and knocked. On the instant, three men +ran across the road and collared him. The capture was observed by one +or two gentlemen, who stopped, and immediately a small crowd began to +gather about them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague was prudent enough to waste no time in a useless struggle +with the Messengers, and asked them quietly who they were and what +they intended. At this moment the door was opened by Mrs. Kilburne's +maid, and the Messengers, lifting the Colonel up, carried him into the +house. Hutchins, a short, stoutish fellow, who was the chief of the +three men, told the Colonel who they were.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And we hold a warrant for your apprehension under Lord Townshend's +seal,' he said, and showed his scutcheon and the warrant.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not for my apprehension,' replied Montague. 'There is one without +there who can speak for me.' For the door was still open to the +street, and amongst the people who thronged the entrance, he now saw +very clearly the blue and silver livery of her ladyship. The lackey, +however, pushed backwards out of range, and since those who were +foremost of the crowd turned about to see who it was that Montague +pointed to, Hutchins took the occasion to close the door in their +faces.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are George Kelly, <i>alias</i> James Johnson, <i>alias</i> Joseph Andrews,' +said he, turning again to Colonel Montague, and reading out from the +warrant a number of names by which the Parson was known to the honest +party.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is the first I have heard of it,' replied Montague, and he invited +the Messengers up to his rooms on the first floor, where he would be +happy to satisfy them of their mistake. Mrs. Kilburne had now joined +her maid in the passage, and she followed the Messengers up the +stairs, wringing her hands over the disgrace which, through no fault +of hers, had fallen upon her house. When they were come within the +room, Montague threw open his cloak, which he wore wrapped about his +shoulders, and discovered his scarlet coat beneath it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am Colonel Montague,' he said, 'and an officer under the King as +well as you. If there is work to be done for the King, I shall be very +happy to assist you. I fought for the King at Preston,' and he made a +great flourish of his services and valorous acts, not being sure that +the Messengers had reinforcements without, and hoping that Mr. Kelly +might enter meanwhile and do what was needful. Mrs. Kilburne's tongue +and care for the Parson seemed likely to forward this plan, for, with +many unnecessary words, she declared how the Colonel had lodged with +her for years.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And as for Mr. Johnson,' she said, 'there was such a man who came and +went, but he lodged with Mrs. Barnes in Bury Street, and there you +should go if you seek for news of him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But the ten minutes were not yet gone. The maid remained downstairs in +the passage. She was a perfectly honest poor wench, who would have +risked herself for the Parson or for any gentleman in distress. But +Montague, however closely he listened, could not hear that she opened +the door, or any noise in the room below.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins made his apologies with a great many 'your honours,' and the +Colonel was no less polite in his compliments upon Hutchins's zeal, +which he would be sure to make known in the proper quarters. But still +the Parson did not come, and Montague could hold the Messengers in +talk no longer, though that would have been of little use, as he now +discovered.</p> + +<p class="normal">For Hutchins turned about to Chandler,--</p> + +<p class="normal">'Go down into the street and tell Lyng and Randall,' he said, 'that +our man is not come. Bid them watch for him at the corner of Ryder +Street and St. James's.' And as he spoke he gave Chandler the warrant. +Chandler slipped it into his pocket, and ran downstairs to join the +others of his worshipful calling in the street. Hutchins followed him, +but remained within, in the passage, to watch the maid of the house, +and see that she did not go out to warn the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel and Mrs. Kilburne were thus left alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mrs. Kilburne,' said Montague. 'You must take my word for it, I am +Mr. Kelly's friend, and without any argument, if you please.' For he +saw that she was on the point of interrupting him. 'There is but one +thing you can do for him. Send someone you can trust, or go yourself +to lure the Messengers off to Mrs. Barnes's house. But you must be +quick, and here's money to help you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He filled her hands with the Parson's gold, and she, in her turn, went +downstairs and out of the house by a door at the back. Montague, for +his part, had it in mind to try whether the like means might not +over-persuade Hutchins's zeal. With that design he descended to +Hutchins, whom he found lighting a candle in Mr. Kelly's room with the +door open so that he might command a view of the maid who was still +waiting in the passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel stepped into the room, casting his eyes about for the +strong-box with Smilinda's letters, which he could not see. He saw the +scrutoire, however, which stood in the window with the lid closed. +Hutchins held the candle above his head and remarked it at the same +time.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will search the rooms,' he said with an air of consequence. Colonel +Montague was in a quandary. Hutchins had only to throw back the lid +and the Parson's strong-box would be in his hands. He had only then to +break open the lock, and all Smilinda's dainty sentiments about the +union of souls would be splotched over by the dirty thumbs of a +constable. And the Colonel could not prevent the sacrilege unless the +money did it for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Hutchins,' he said, and jingled the gold in his pockets. But he +got no further in his persuasions. For the name was scarce off his +lips when a hubbub arose without. It was a confusion of noise at the +first as though it came from the end of the street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'They have taken him,' said Hutchins, setting down the candle and +flinging aside the curtains of the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">The noise was louder, and Kelly's voice was heard, bawling, 'A rescue! +An arrest! an arrest! A rescue!' that the rabble might think he was +taken for debt. Those who were gathered in front of the house did +indeed turn themselves about, but they were for the most part of the +better class, and the night-rakers and such-like who might have +attempted a rescue, only came up behind at Mr. Kelly's bawling, from +St. James's Street, where they were likely to find more profit than in +Ryder Street. This friendly mob was running together indeed, but came +too late.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, they have taken him,' said Montague. Mrs. Kilburne had not drawn +the Messengers off. On the other hand, Hutchins had not opened Mr. +Kelly's scrutoire. 'They have taken him,' and the Parson was already +under the window. His sword was gleaming in his hand but the +Messengers dragged upon his arms and he could not use it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins threw up the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Bring him in,' and he rushed to the street door and unlocked it. +Kelly was hustled up the steps, shouting all the while. He was forced +into the passage just as the rabble came up at his heels.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A rescue!' they cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lyng and Chandler turned about and drove them back. Randall sprang in +after Kelly and slammed the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">The posture of affairs then was this:</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague and Hutchins were standing in Mr. Kelly's room close +to the scrutoire and the open window.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly, Lyng, who was a big lout, designed by Providence for this +office and no other, and the maid, were in the passage. Randall and +Chandler were outside in the street and at their wits' ends to keep +back the mob, which was now grown very clamorous.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly was the first to make any movement. He sheathed his sword, +carefully dusted the sleeves of his coat where the Messengers had held +him and arranged his cravat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'These are ill times for a peaceful man to live in,' he said. 'It +seems a gentleman cannot walk home of an evening but he must be set +upon and cuffed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">With a shrug of the shoulders, as though the whole matter was a +mystery, he sauntered into his parlour. His eyes carelessly took in +the room. It seemed that nothing had been disturbed. The scrutoire was +shut, but were Smilinda's letters still hidden there or were they safe +in Montague's pockets? His eyes rested on the Colonel's face and put +the question. But the Colonel gave no sign; Hutchins stood at his +elbow. Kelly's eyes travelled from the Colonel's face to his red coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'One of the King's officers,' he said with a smile. 'In the presence +of one of the King's officers, gentlemen,' he said politely with a bow +to Hutchins, 'I take it that you will forgo your ingenious attempt to +rob me and we may all go quietly to bed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He moved as he spoke towards the scrutoire, and again looked at the +Colonel. The Colonel's face was still a blank.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We hold a warrant for the arrest of George Kelly, alias James +Johnson,' began Hutchins.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed?' replied George with an effort of attention, as though +fatigue put a strain upon his good manners. 'And why should George +Kelly prefer to call himself James Johnson? I cannot think it is the +better name. Mr. George Kelly lacks taste, I am afraid,' and he +stifled a yawn with his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague,' said Hutchins, who was in some perplexity as to +what to make of Kelly's present indifference, 'your honour promised to +assist me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague being appealed to, nodded his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Though you will not need my assistance,' he said, 'for here is +another of your fellows.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Chandler had come within the house, and pushing into the room said +that the curtains were drawn apart so that the rabble could see +clearly all that happened in the room and were on that account the +less inclined to disperse. As he spoke he hitched the curtains to and +a volley of curses went up from the disappointed crowd.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins immediately turned to Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Give me your sword.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly, who knew not what to make of the Colonel's manner, but thought +it likely he had taken his measures, took his sword by the hanger and +handed it sheath and all to Hutchins, who in his turn passed it to +Montague. Montague stood in the corner by the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is some stupid blunder,' said Kelly, 'which I cannot take it +upon me to understand. You talk to me a great deal about a warrant, +but I have not seen it. It is a new thing to come taking off gentlemen +to the round-house in the middle of the night without a warrant, but +we live in ill times.' All this he said with an admirable air of +resignation, though his eyes kept glancing towards Montague, who still +dared give no sign. The Colonel waited upon occasion; his present aim +was to hinder the Messengers from any suspicion that the Parson and he +were in one purpose or indeed were acquainted.</p> + +<p class="normal">In answer to Kelly, Chandler took the warrant from his pocket and +handed it to Colonel Montague, who read it through.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a very sufficient warrant,' he said, 'and this gentleman may be +satisfied if he is rightly named, of which of course I have no +assurance,' and folding the paper he handed it back to Chandler. +Whereupon Chandler went out again into the street to guard the door +from the rabble.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins then took Kelly's hat, placed it on the table, and searching +his pockets, pulled out some papers which he had about him, things of +no moment; and these papers he laid in the hat. But to search Kelly's +pockets Hutchins must needs stoop. Here was the Colonel's chance. Over +Hutchins' shoulder, Kelly's eyes again put their question. The Colonel +now answered with a shake of the head. Smilinda's letters had not been +saved, a great surprise and disappointment to the Parson, who of +course knew nothing of Montague's mistaken arrest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly, however, wasted no precious moments in regrets. As Hutchins +turned to place the papers in the hat, Kelly thrust Lyng aside, and, +springing to the window, tore aside the curtains and again bawled at +the top of his voice. 'A rescue! An arrest!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Shouts of encouragement greeted him; the hubbub filled the street +again. Hutchins and Lyng at once sprang upon Kelly, tore him back from +the window, and sent him staggering across the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Tie his hands!' cried Hutchins, as he pulled down the sash. 'Knock +him down! Gag him!' and he turned to help Lyng.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid in the passage began to cry; the Colonel stood irresolute; +the Parson drew himself up against the wall as the two men approached +him. His Irish blood bubbled in his veins at the prospect of so fine a +tumble. He clenched his hands. He forgot Smilinda's letter, the Cause, +even Rose. His face became one broad grin and in an accent as broad as +the grin.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And what'll I be doin' while you're tyin' my hands?' he asked. 'Why, +just this,' and his fist shot out like a battering-ram and took the +worthy Lyng on the tip of the chin. Mr. Lyng was clean lifted off both +his feet and so sat down on the floor with some violence, where he +felt his neck in a dazed sort of way to make sure that it was not +broken.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, why isn't Nick here?' cried Kelly, and indeed Nicholas Wogan +bewails his absence at that festivity to this day. 'Come, Mr. +Hutchins, I have the other fist for you,' and he began to dance +towards Hutchins, who called on the Colonel to mark the murderous look +in the prisoner's eyes and save him from immediate destruction.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is it destruction you want?' asked Kelly with a chuckle. 'I'll +gratify you with all the destruction imaginable.' And no doubt he +would have been as good as his word. But Hutchins, while shutting the +window had not drawn the curtains, and the rabble in the street had +thus enjoyed a full view of the Parson's prowess. They had roared +their applause when Lyng went down, and as Hutchins drew back before +the Parson's fisticuffs, they hooted the Messenger for a coward and +made a rush at the door. A stone or two shattered the window and a +voice was yelling, 'Murder! murder!' in tones of unmistakable +sincerity. Chandler then rushed in, his face bleeding, and said that +Randall was being mobbed, and, if they did not come to help him, would +be knocked on the head. At this, Lyng, who was now got to his feet, +ran out into the street with Chandler. Hutchins remained in the room, +but cried out to Chandler that he should go or send for a file of +musquets.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now Chandler, when he rushed into the room, was holding the warrant in +his hand, he still held it when he ran out again, as the Parson +remarked, and instantly thought of a plan by which, after all, +Smilinda's letters might be secured, and her name kept wholly out of +the business. Accordingly he ceased from his warlike posture and sat +down in a chair. Hutchins took the occasion to draw the curtains and +shut out the mob from a view of the room. Mr. Kelly smiled, for he was +just wondering what excuse he could discover to do that very thing +himself. Mr. Hutchins was helping him very well.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a pity,' said the Parson in a plaintive voice, sucking his +knuckles, which were bleeding, 'that a peaceful, law-abiding citizen +must put himself to so much discomfort because a couple of rascally +Messengers will not show him their warrant.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is under Lord Townshend's seal,' began Hutchins.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It may be, or it may not be. I have not seen it. I cannot really +surrender unless the proper formalities are observed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins, who was no doubt well pleased to see the peaceful turn +things were taking and had not the wits to suspect it, replied with an +oafish grin that the prisoner was wise to submit himself to his lawful +captors.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And as for the warrant, Chandler has it safe enough in the street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'In the street!' cried Kelly, suddenly flying into a passion. 'And +what's the warrant doing in the street? How dare the warrant be in the +street when it is intended for a gentleman in the house? Upon my word +it would take very little to persuade me that there's no warrant at +all,' and he began to stamp and fume about the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague has read it,' said Hutchins.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I certainly read a warrant,' agreed the Colonel with an impartial +air.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A warrant, yes,' said Kelly in a testy voice. 'But how can the +Colonel know whether it is intended for me? How can he know whether it +is a real warrant at all? You come here with a scutcheon, Mr. +Hutchins. But you might have stolen the scutcheon, as you have +certainly forged the warrant.' He stopped in front of Hutchins and +wagged his head at him. 'Mr. Hutchins, I begin to suspect you are one +of a gang of cheats come here to rob me. But I will not be your gull,' +he cried out as though his fury overmastered him. 'No, nor his worship +the Colonel either,' and he called to the maid to lock the street +door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lock it,' said he. 'Lock the door' and Mr. Hutchins and I will get to +the bottom of the matter quietly.'</p> + +<p class="normal">That very thing now happened which Mr. Kelly most desired. The maid +ran down the passage to the street door: Hutchins ran out of the room +after her to prevent her locking it. Kelly flung to the door of the +parlour: Mr. Hutchins was outside, the Colonel and Kelly were alone +within the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My sword,' said the Parson in a quick whisper. Montague held it out +to him without a word: he had no right to refuse it to a free man. +Kelly snatched the hilt; the blade rattled out of the scabbard; he +stood on guard with his naked blade.</p> + +<p class="normal">Meanwhile Hutchins and the maid were quarrelling in the passage over +the door key, as Kelly could distinguish from their voices.</p> + +<p class="normal">He made a quick step towards the window, threw open the scrutoire, and +returned to his station at the door. But he had not so much as glanced +at the scrutoire; he had kept his eyes fixed upon the door. Still +keeping his eyes so fixed, he pointed towards the strong boxes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Be quick,' he whispered. 'In the strong box! Take the candle and have +done. You know the hand, and you have the key.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague pulled the key from his pocket, and fumbled at the lock.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will not fit,' he said under his breath and swore.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Be quick,' repeated Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The key rattled in the lock as the Colonel turned it this way and +that. Mr. Kelly was about to throw a glance over his shoulder when he +saw the handle of the door turn. It was turned cautiously without any +noise. The next moment the door flew open. Fortunately it opened +upwards towards the window and the scrutoire. Kelly stopped it with +his foot when it was but half open, so that Montague was entirely +hidden behind the panels from the eyes of any one on the threshold or +in the passage. Hutchins was on the threshold peering into the room. +But he did not peer long, for at the same moment that Kelly stopped +the door with his foot he made at Hutchins, with his sword, a pass so +vigorous that the hulking fellow leaped back a good yard, crying out +to Montague:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will your honour let a poor man be killed in his duty?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel made no answer to the pathetic question. He was occupied +with business of another complexion. Mr. Kelly heard a crack.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is the matter?' he asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The key is filled with dust, or the lock is jammed,' Montague +whispered back. 'I have broken open the box with the guard of my +sword.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Be quick,' said Kelly. 'Make sure you have Smilinda's letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">All this while he had not looked towards the scrutoire. The most that +he saw was the shadow of the Colonel thrown on the wall of the room by +the single candle, a shadow monstrous big that held the shadow of a +paper to its eyes. It is to be said in Mr. Kelly's defence that he +dared not look about him. The door of the room was half open; the +Messenger who had retreated into the passage was plainly hardening his +heart for a rush. Mr. Kelly's attention was entirely distracted from +Colonel Montague's proceedings at this important moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' whispered Montague. 'This is her hand, this is the blue-edged +paper she affects of late. "My own Strephon," and dated two days back. +It bids you to her rout.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The words passed in and out of Mr. Kelly's ears. His eyes were +occupied with Hutchins, and with his eyes his mind. He did not +remember that he had thrust this letter of her ladyship's, as he had +told to Wogan, into the wrong box, the box holding the papers of the +Bishop and the King. Then a little flame shot up and illumined the +room, which was at once filled with a smell of burning paper. Montague +had burned Smilinda's letter, inviting Kelly to her rout.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed that Hutchins had after all no stomach for Mr. Kelly's +sword, which to be sure must have glittered ominously in the dismal +light of the solitary candle. He ran back again down the passage and +pulled open the street door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Chandler,' he shouted, calling his fellow to assist him. A yell of +laughter answered him, and a voice from the street cried out that +Chandler was gone for a file of soldiers. Kelly could hear Hutchins +swearing and cursing, though it was himself that had sent Chandler on +the errand.</p> + +<p class="normal">A second flame spirted up and died away. Montague had burned a second +letter.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lyng! Randall!' cried Hutchins at the street-door, but again he was +answered with jeers, and again the voice called to him mockingly that +they were gone to Bury Street, where they were told they would be sure +to snare the right man.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague, who heard everything clearly, blessed Mrs. Kilburne aloud, +and burned a third paper. Kelly kicked the door to.</p> + +<p class="normal">'We are safe, then, it seems,' he said. 'Smilinda's safe.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face, +leaning his back against the panels of the door. He could hear +Hutchins bawling up the street for his partners, and his voice sounded +as though he had moved from the door in search of them. So for the +first time Kelly looked at Montague and the scrutoire.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague had turned the strong-box upside down and emptied the +papers on the scrutoire, so that they lay face downwards. By a scruple +of delicacy, having read the topmost letter to make sure it was Lady +Oxford's hand, he looked at them no more. He took them up one by one, +face downwards, and so burned them separately, knowing no doubt that, +lighted in a single heap, only those on the outside and the edges of +the letters in the middle, would catch fire. One by one he burnt them +face downwards at the candle, the secret letters of the Cause. He had +burned three, and he now held the fourth in his hand. He approached it +to the candle; he did not so much as look at it. But had he merely +glanced once at Mr. Kelly leaning there against the panels of the +door, that glance would have surely told him what papers he was +burning.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly did not speak a word, or stir a muscle. He had wiped the sweat +from his face a second ago, but his forehead was wet now: his eyes +stared greedily at the papers: a slow smile, of a knavish kind, that +went very ill with his face, curved his lips. An extreme temptation +chained him; the Devil whispered in his ear, 'Be silent,' and the +Parson held his peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">The blue-edged letter bidding him to the rout he had slipped on the +top of the Chevalier's papers, as he had told Mr. Wogan. Colonel +Montague was merrily burning the papers of the Plot. Kelly had but to +hold his tongue, and in a few minutes he was safe. The Cause was saved +so far as the papers went, and Lady Oxford, her letters unburned, was +lost. No wonder the key did not fit; it was the wrong key! Kelly could +see the corner of Wogan's strong-box peeping out from beneath a thatch +of papers in the corner of the scrutoire.</p> + +<p class="normal">All this the Parson saw and understood in the one short moment during +which Montague approached the paper to the candle. His mind was tossed +up and down in a tempest; the winds of temptation blew hard against +the tides of his nature. On one side was safety and the King's +interest, and Rose, who to be sure need never know of the treachery by +which the Parson had won her; on the other, a broken pledge that he +had given to the Colonel, and the ruin of Smilinda, who had betrayed +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague lit the sheet of paper and held it up. Kelly saw the blue +flame creep down from the edge, the writing turn brown, the paper curl +over black and tattered, with a multitude of red sparks; and still he +kept his peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague dropped the ashes on the scrutoire, and took a fifth paper +from the pile. The Parson turned away, and laid his ear to the panel, +making a pretence that he heard Hutchins stirring in the passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Be quick!' he said first, and then, moistening his dry lips with his +tongue: 'Make quite sure you have Smilinda's letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Smilinda?' asked Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly forced a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No doubt she called herself something equally pretty to you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Phylissa,' growled Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She has a pretty conceit in names. Make sure those are her letters,' +and again he spoke with an effort.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not I. I have had my fill of the lady's handwriting.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague was already holding the paper to the flame, when Kelly's good +angel got the upper hand with him. He is happy now to think that no +chance accident, such as the return of Hutchins or the coming of the +soldiers, hurried him into the better choice with a mind half made up. +Here was the very occasion of which he had dreamed when he stayed +behind in Lady Oxford's withdrawing room. He could use the weapon +which her letters put into his hand to save the Chevalier's papers and +himself and Rose. But he put the weapon aside. He turned about from +the door: Montague was holding the paper to the flame, and a corner of +it had taken fire. Kelly sprang to the scrutoire, snatched the paper +out of Montague's hand, and crushed the fire out in the palm of his +hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I gave you the right key, 'he whispered. 'You chose the wrong box.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague snatched up the pile of papers and turned them over.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Good God! Cyphers!' he exclaimed, and dropped them as though they +were, in truth, burning.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The other box; the other box,' said Kelly, pointing to it. He fancied +that he heard Hutchins moving cautiously just outside the door, and +was now in a fever lest the delay brought about by his incertitude +might balk his intentions. At any moment the Messenger might come back +from Bury Street, or the file of the musquets march tramping up the +stairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">All this indeed takes a long time to tell, and seemed no less long to +Mr. Kelly in the happening; but the whole of the occurrences, the +movements of the Messengers, the tidings cried to him from the street, +the burning of the papers, with Kelly's own thoughts and doubts and +unlooked-for temptations, passed with momentary speed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague found Wogan's strong box, the box of the love-letters, +unlocked it, tore out all the contents, and glanced at a few at the +top, middle and bottom.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Smilinda--Smilinda--Smilinda,' he said, reading the signatures. 'And +it's for this woman,' he cried, striking the letters with his fist, +'Smilinda, Phylissa, and the Lord knows what else to the Lord knows +what other men, that----'</p> + +<p class="normal">But the Parson was in no mood to listen to Montague's reflections.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Put the other papers back into that box, the box with the unbroken +lock, lock it and give me the key,' he said. Montague crammed her +ladyship's letters into the inner pocket of his coat. But before he +could move the door opened with a crash, and Hutchins flew in, Kelly +made a furious pass, and Hutchins, leaping back, 'parried the thrust +with the door,' as he truly said in his evidence before the Lords' +Committee. Had he not used that novel parade Kelly would infallibly +have run him through, and, as it was, George could scarcely drag his +point out of the wood of the door, which Hutchins in leaping back had +shut. Being now sufficiently terrified, for indeed no man ever had a +narrower escape of his life, Hutchins contented himself with a +plaintive expostulation from the safety of the passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, I would serve Lord Townshend himself in the same way,' Kelly +shouted back, 'if he tried to enter my room against my will without a +warrant,' and lowering his voice so that only Montague might hear, +'Lock the box, and throw me the key.' If only for Montague's sake the +papers of the Plot must not be found lying open upon Kelly's +scrutoire, and the box which held them broken among a litter of ashes. +Mr. Kelly could not but remember with what care, earlier in the +evening, he had burned and buried the ashes of his Grace of +Rochester's letters, and reflect with some sadness what little good +had come of it. Montague locked up the papers of the Plot in the box +which had held Smilinda's letters, and tossed the key to Kelly, who +caught it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is no more to do?' said Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nothing,' and Kelly handed him back his sword and sat him down on a +sofa. He seized the occasion to make Montague acquainted with the +accident through which Smilinda's last letter had been laid on the top +of those in the box that contained very different wares, adding +apologies for his brief delay to inform him. The Colonel then sat down +over against Kelly and laid the flat of Kelly's sword across his +knees. He looked at the sword for a little. Then,</p> + +<p class="normal">'You had a chance to let me destroy your own papers,' he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, and to be a liar to a loyal gentleman, and a traitor to a more +sacred cause than even my King's.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Smilinda's?' Montague looked up in perplexity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No,' said Kelly, and he stared for a little at the floor, then he +said very slowly, 'A long while ago I made a prayer that nothing might +ever come between the Cause and me except it be death. Even while I +made the prayer I was summoned to visit Lady Oxford, who was then +unknown to me. Well, something has come between the Cause and +me--honour. A more sacred Cause than even my King's. Himself would say +it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague fancied that he heard a distant regular tramp of feet +like soldiers. But Mr. Kelly was clean lost in his thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I could meet the King with a clear face and this story on my lips,' +he continued, 'even though it were over there in Rome, and in his old +lodging. The very approach to him was secret, his antechamber a cellar +underground. You went by night, you crossed the cellar in the dark, +you climbed a little winding stair, and above, in a mean crazy chamber +which overhangs the Tiber, there was my King looking towards England. +A man like me, with a man's longings and a man's despair, but, unlike +me, robbed of a nation. Day by day delay shadowed his eyes and wrote +upon his face until the face became an open book of sorrows. Yet +himself would say, "Perish the Cause, perish all but honour,"' and, +suddenly throwing up his arms, Mr. Kelly cried out in a voice of great +passion and longing, 'The King! The King!'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague very likely had his own opinions as to how the King +would take it, but he was careful to keep them to himself, and in the +silence which followed upon Kelly's outburst the tread of soldiers was +heard very distinct, and Hutchins's voice at the door bidding them +hurry.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly raised his head. He too had heard the sound, and, drawing a +ring from his finger,</p> + +<p class="normal">'Take my seal ring, when you are alone seal up the brocades in a +packet. You know the person whom they concern.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague took the ring and slipped it on his finger.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Johnson, or Kelly, or whoever you are,' he said cordially, 'we +must needs be public enemies, but I wish my King had many as loving +servants as your King has in you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The rattle of the butts of musquets could now be heard in the passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And, damme,' said Montague, bending forward suddenly; he had all this +while maintained in word and carriage the reserve of the Englishman, +but now he showed a decent warmth of blood, 'had you been in my place +and I in yours, Smilinda or no Smilinda, I should have let you burn +the cyphers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">On those words he was pleased to say, which Mr. Kelly merely counted a +politeness, the door was driven open by the butts of several fusils, a +sergeant with a file of musqueteers entered; behind them came Chandler +with the warrant, Lyng with a broken head, Hutchins with a white, +scared face, and Randall whose coat was in tatters.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were surprised enough, you may be sure, to see the Colonel on one +side of the fireplace and their redoubtable prisoner as quiet upon the +other.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' said Mr. Kelly, with an admirable air of astonishment, 'it seems +you have a warrant after all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins then read the warrant through, and Mr. Kelly surrendered. But +the Messenger had not done; he picked up presently the impudence to +question the Colonel.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your worship let the prisoner take his sword?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The dignified Montague stared at Hutchins with a strong amazement +until the fellow was quite abashed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What's the world coming to?' he said. 'Here is your prisoner's sword, +if he is your prisoner.' and, lifting Mr. Kelly's sword from his +knees, he handed it to Hutchins. Hutchins then made haste to secure +Mr. Kelly's effects. He went over to the scrutoire, and the first +things he clapped his eyes upon were a pile of black ashes and a great +many splotches of hot grease from the candle.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hutchins looked at the Colonel with a question upon his lips; the +Colonel looked stonily at Hutchins. Hutchins raised his nose and +sniffed the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will your worship tell me whether the prisoner meddled with any +papers?' he asked, but with less impertinence than before.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, sir, the gentleman did.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What was done with them?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir, they were burned, as you may perceive.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And how came you, sir, to let them be burned?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am not to answer to you, sir, for my conduct, of which I can give a +sufficient account to persons who have the right to question me. I +have, for your satisfaction, no knowledge of this gentleman's name, +nor as to whether he is correctly described in a warrant which was not +in the house while we were together. It appears to me that you are all +very likely to lose your scutcheons for your doltish stupidity, +whether you have hold of the right or the wrong gentleman. I wish you +a good night, sir,' he said, bowing to Kelly, 'and speedy deliverance, +if you deserve it, from your present company.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He put his hat on his head and walked out of the room without another +word. Hutchins thereupon searched Mr. Kelly's scrutoire; he found one +box broken open and empty, another box, its own fellow, locked. Mr. +Kelly delivered the key to it, with a great show of reluctance. It +held the papers of the Bishop's Plot and a key to the Bishop's cypher, +which was used to convict him at his trial. As for the burned papers, +it came out at George's trial that he had destroyed letters in the +presence of a King's officer. But the Duke of Wharton, in his famous +speech, argued that a man of Mr. Kelly's figure might very well have +letters to burn which were not political.</p> + +<p class="normal">That night the Parson was taken to the house of John Gardiner, living +in Westminster Market, there to be kept in safe custody. He walked +between the soldiers, and whistled a lively tune as he walked.</p> + +<p class="normal">This was related in more than one inn-parlour the next day by the +sergeant, who was mightily surprised that a man should bear so heavy a +charge so easily, and so the story got about.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Kelly was sensibly lightened by having saved Smilinda in the +end after so many mischances, and when he thought of her letters safe +in the Colonel's inner pocket, felt a private glow of pleasure which +put all conjectures of his fate and doom clean out of his head. +Moreover, he says that Rose was never nearer to him than on that night +and during that walk. He speaks as though she walked by his side +amongst his captors, and walked with a face that smiled.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">MR. WOGAN WEARS LADY OXFORD'S LIVERY, BUT +DOES NOT REMAIN IN HER SERVICE.</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The question with which Mr. Wogan lay down to sleep after Lady +Oxford's rout, woke him at noon; he sent a boy whom he could trust to +Ryder Street to desire Colonel Montague's attendance. Montague came +back presently with the boy, and gave Wogan the news that the Parson +was taken.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was no escape possible,' he said. 'I cannot tell you the +innermost truth of the affair, because the secret is not mine to tell; +but, Mr. Wogan, you will take my word for it, your friend was in the +net.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The room was searched?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And his papers seized. One or two, I believe, were burned, but the +greater part were seized,' and then he broke out with an oath. 'Damn +these plots! What in the world made you meddle with such Tory +nonsense?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith,' said Wogan, 'I have been wondering how ever you demeaned +yourself to become a Whig.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan wondered very much more what strange mishap had brought Mr. +Kelly to this pass at the moment when he seemed to have success +beneath his hand. Something wholly unexpected must have happened +during those few minutes when he and Smilinda were left alone. +Something had happened, indeed, but it was something very much simpler +than Mr. Wogan looked for, who had not the key to the Parson's +thoughts. However, he forebore to inquire, and instead:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel,' said he, 'you professed last night that you were under some +trifling obligation to me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I trust to-day to make the profession good.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Faith, then you can, Colonel. There's a little matter of a quarrel.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At this the Colonel broke in with a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'With whom?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'With a lad I have taken a great liking for,' and the Colonel laughed +again. 'Therefore I would not put a slight on him by missing a certain +appointment. It is Lord Sidney Beauclerk.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague's face clouded as he heard the name.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the reason of the quarrel?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'He took objection to a few words I spoke last night.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'About a ballad? I heard the words.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I told him that he would find a friend of mine waiting at Burton's +Coffee-house this morning, and I doubt if many friends of mine will be +seen abroad to-day.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague rose from the bed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will not deny,' he said, 'that there are services I should have +preferred to render you. But I will go to Burton's, on one condition, +Mr. Wogan--that you do not stir from this house until I come back to +you. There's an ill wind blowing which might occasion you discomfort +if you went abroad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">This he said with some significance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It catches at one's throat, I dare say,' replied Wogan, taking his +meaning. 'I have a tender sort of delicate throat in some weathers.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague walked to Burton's, at the corner of King Street in +St. James's. The coffeehouse buzzed with the news of Mr. Kelly's +arrest, and Colonel Montague saw many curious faces look up from their +news-sheets and whisper together as he entered. In a corner of the +room sat Lord Sidney Beauclerk, with a man whom Montague had remarked +at Lady Oxford's rout the night before.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney arose as Montague approached and bowed stiffly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I come on behalf of a gentleman, whom, perhaps, we need not name,' +said Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Indeed?' said Lord Sidney, with a start of surprise.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I can understand that your lordship did not expect me, but I am his +friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be frank, I expected no one.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your lordship, then, hardly knows the gentleman?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'On the contrary,' said Lord Sidney, and he took up from the table the +<i>Flying Post</i> of that morning. He handed the paper to Montague, and +pointed to a sentence which came at the end of a description of Mr. +Kelly's arrest.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is said that Mr. Nicholas Wogan is also in London, hiding under +the <i>incognito</i> of Hilton, and that he will be taken to-day.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You see, my lord,' said Montague, 'that there are certain +difficulties which threaten to interfere with our arrangements.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My friend is aware of them,' said Lord Sidney, and presented his +friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Before making any arrangements I should be glad if your lordship +would favour me with a hearing in some private place. It is I who ask, +not my friend, Mr. Hilton.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney reluctantly consented, and the two men walked out of the +coffee-house.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There are to be no apologies, I trust,' said Lord Sidney.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your lordship need have no fears. What I propose is entirely unknown +to Mr. Wogan. But it seems to me that the conditions of the duel have +changed. If Mr. Wogan shows his face in London he will be taken. If he +fights you, it matters not whether you pink him or no, for if he +escapes your sword he will be taken by the Messengers. On the other +hand, he will not go from London until he has met you; unless--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Unless--?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Unless your lordship insists upon deferring the meeting until it can +take place in France.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, I will consent to that,' said Lord Sidney, after a moment's +pause. 'It is common fairness.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Again I take the liberty to observe that your lordship does not know +the gentleman. You must insist.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lord Sidney was brought without great difficulty to understand the +justice of Colonel Montague's argument.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very well; I will insist,' he said; and, coming back to Burton's +coffee-house, he wrote a polite letter, which the Colonel put in his +pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague, however, did not immediately carry it to Mr. Wogan. He stood +on the pavement of King Street for a little, biting his thumb in a +profundity of thought; then he hurried to the stable where he kept his +horses, and gave a strict order to his groom. From the stable he set +out for Queen's Square, but on the way he bought a <i>Flying Post</i>, and +stopped in St. James's Park to see what sort of account it gave of Mr. +Kelly's arrest.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Plot concerning which they write from Paris,' it began, 'hath +brought the Guards into the Park, and a reverend and gallant non-juror +within danger of the Law. The Messengers that were essaying to take +Mr. Kelly needed reinforcement by a file of musquets before his +reverence's lodgings could be stormed. It is said that a loyal Colonel +of the Guards who lodges in the same house in Ryder Street was +discovered with Mr. Kelly when the soldiers forced their way in, and +that by his interference many valuable papers have been saved, which +would otherwise have been destroyed. It appears that Kelly was intent +upon burning certain cyphers and letters, and had, indeed, burnt two +or three of them before the loyal Colonel interrupted him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The loyal Colonel took off his hat to Grub Street for this charitable +interpretation of his conduct. Lady Oxford, he reflected, must be in a +fine flutter, for assuredly she would have sent for the news-sheet the +first thing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague tapped the pocket in which were her ladyship's letters, and +smiled. Her anxieties would be very suitable to a certain plan of his +own.</p> + +<p class="normal">He walked straight to Queen's Square and knocked at the door. It +seemed to him purely providential that the man who opened the door was +the big lackey whom he had seen in Ryder Street the night before. +Montague looked him over again and said, 'I think that I saw you last +night in Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He had some further conversation with the lackey, and money passed +between them. But the conversation was of the shortest, for her +ladyship, in a fever of impatience, and bearing every mark of a +sleepless night, ran down the stairs almost before Colonel Montague +had finished. She gave her hand to him with a pretty negligence, and +the Colonel bent a wooden face over it, but did not touch the fingers +with his lips. Then she led the way into the little parlour, and her +negligence vanished in a second. She was all on fire to know whether +her letters had been seized or no; yet even at that moment it was not +in her nature to put a frank question when a devious piece of cajolery +might serve.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Corydon!' she said in a whisper of longing, as though Montague was +the one man her heart was set upon, as though she had never brought +Mr. Kelly into this very room on a morning of summer two years ago. +'My Corydon!' she said, and sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' said Montague, in a most sudden enthusiasm, 'I think there is +no poetry in the world like a nursery rhyme.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship could make nothing of the remark.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A nursery rhyme?' she repeated.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A nursery rhyme,' repeated the Colonel. '"Will you walk into my +parlour, said the spider to the fly."'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford looked at him quite gravely.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I do not in the least understand,' she said. She had a wonderful +knack of burying her head in the sand and believing that no one spied +her, as travellers tell of the ostrich. 'But you have a message for +me, have you not?'</p> + +<p class="normal">She put the question frankly now, since coquetry had failed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have a packet to deliver to your ladyship,' replied Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford drew a breath and dropped into a chair. 'Thank you! How +shall I thank you?' she cried; and seeing that Montague made no answer +whatever, but stood stiff as a ramrod, she became at once all weak +woman. 'You are very good to me,' she murmured in a very pathetical +voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship owes me no thanks,' replied Montague. 'Your ladyship +has need of all your gratitude for a gentleman who gave up all that he +held dear to save your good name.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He had it on the tip of his tongue to add, 'which was not worth +saving,' and barely refrained from the words.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford was not abashed by the rebuke. She turned upon the Colonel +eyes that swam with pity for Mr. Kelly's misfortunes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I read that he was taken,' she said sadly. 'Poor gentleman! But he +should have burnt my letters long ago. They were letters written, as +we women write, with a careless pen and ill-considered words which +malice might misconstrue. He should have burnt them, as he swore to +do; but he broke his word, and so, alas! pays most dearly for his +fault. Indeed, it grieves me to the heart, and all the more because he +brought his own sufferings about. So unreasonable we poor women are,' +and she shook her head, and smiled with a sort of pity for women's +frail readiness to forgive.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' said Montague, growing yet colder, 'it is not for me either +to construe or to misconstrue the packet which I am to give you, nor +am I at all concerned to defend a gentleman whom I am proud to name my +friend.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The indifference of the speech no doubt stung her ladyship.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Friend!' she said with a sneer. 'This friendship is surely something +of the suddenest. I did not even so late as last night notice any +great cordiality between you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very likely not,' said Montague. 'Last night there was a trivial +cause for disagreement upon which to-day we are of one mind.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford flushed and took another tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are cruel,' she said. She was not so much insulted as hurt. 'You +are ungenerous. You are cruel.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Colonel Montague was not in a melting mood, and so, 'Give me the +packet,' she said sullenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague pressed his hand over his pocket and smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford rose from her chair with a startled face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You mean to keep it? To use it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not to your ladyship's hurt.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford looked at him with eyes mournful in their reproach.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Kelly bade you give these letters back to me at once,' she said; +and then, with a great fervour of admiration, 'Mr. Kelly would have +given them back to me at once.' It seemed as though the thought of the +noble Mr. Kelly was the one thing which now enabled her to keep her +faith in men.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very likely,' replied Montague coolly, who was not at all moved by +the disparaging comparison of himself with the Parson. 'Mr. Kelly +would have given them back to you at once had not your ladyship taken +good care that a few locks and bars should hinder him. But I am not +Mr. Kelly, and indeed it is well for your ladyship I am not. Had your +ladyship betrayed <i>me</i>, why, when that pretty news-sheet was read out +last night, I would have stood up before the whole company, and told +boldly out how your ladyship came by the knowledge which gave you the +power to betray me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The words and the stern voice in which they were spoken stung Lady +Oxford into a passion. She forgot to deny that she had betrayed Mr. +Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would have been an infamy!' she cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A harsh critic might say that it would have matched an infamy.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Her ladyship saw her mistake.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was nothing which Mr. Kelly could have said. Mr. Kelly was my +friend, as I have told you frankly; but I did not betray him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship's livery is blue and silver, I think--a pretty notable +livery even at night, as I had occasion to remark in Ryder Street.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford was put out of countenance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What am I to do to earn the packet which is mine?' she asked +bitterly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The simplest thing imaginable. Your ladyship, I fear me, has not +slept well. What say you to a little country air, with your humble +servant for a companion? If your ladyship would order your carriage to +be at your door in an hour's time we might take the air for a while +together. On our return your ladyship will be refreshed for this +evening's diversions, and I shall be the lighter by a packet of +letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford did not know what to make of the Colonel's proposal, but +she perforce consented to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I obey your orders,' said she bitterly; and Montague went back to +Wogan, whom he found sitting on the edge of the bed and disconsolately +swinging his legs.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have a letter for you from Lord Sidney Beauclerk,' said Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a very polite letter, and assured Mr. Wogan that he would on no +account fight with him in England; but would cut his throat somewhere +in France with the greatest friendliness possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very well,' said Wogan, 'but I have to reach France first.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will start in an hour's time,' said Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In broad daylight?' asked Wogan. 'And what of the ill wind and the +sore throat that's like to come of it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have got a fine coat to protect the throat.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague went outside and cried down the stairs to know whether a +parcel had been brought into the house. The parcel was carried +upstairs into Mr. Wogan's room. The Colonel unwrapped it, and spread +out on the bed a blue and silver livery.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A most distasteful garb,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is indeed not what we would choose for the descendant of kings,' +murmured Montague gently as he smoothed out the coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Viceroys, Colonel, viceroys.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Viceroys, then, Mr. Wogan; but no doubt they murdered, and robbed, +and burned, and ravished, just like kings. Besides, you have an +example. For I seem to have heard of another Wogan, who went to +Innspruck as a shopkeeper.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' cried Nick. 'That is the finest story in the world. It +was my brother Charles--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You shall tell me that story another time,' said Montague, and Wogan +stripped off his clothes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you tell me what I am to do when I am dressed?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will go to a certain house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' said Wogan, and pulled on the lackey's breeches.</p> + +<p class="normal">'At the house you will find a carriage.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall find a carriage.' Wogan drew on a stocking.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will mount behind as though you were a footman from the house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A footman from the house,' repeated Wogan, and he pulled on the other +stocking.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I shall get into the carriage with a companion. You won't know me. +The carriage will drive off. You won't speak a word for fear your +brogue should betray you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will whisper my opinions to you in English, Colonel,' said Wogan as +he fastened his garters.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I don't think you could,' said Montague, 'and certainly you will not +try. We shall drive to the almshouses at Dulwich. When we get there, I +will make an excuse to stop the carriage.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You won't be alone, then?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No. Let me see. It is a fine sunny day. I will say that my watch is +stopped, and I will send you to see the time by the sundial in the +court.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan buttoned his waistcoat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will bring you the exact minute.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No you won't. You will cross the court to the chapel, by the chapel +you will find a path, and the path will lead you out through an arch +into another road, bordered with chestnut trees.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And when I am in the road?' Wogan tied his cravat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will find my groom with a horse. The horse will be saddled. There +will be pistols in the holsters, and then your patron saint or the +devil must help you to get out of the country.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have a friend or two on the coast of Sussex who will do as well,' +said Wogan, and he drew the coat over his shoulders, 'and I am very +grateful to you. But sure, Colonel, what if a constable pulls me off +the carriage by the leg before we are out of London? You will be +dipped yourself.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There's no fear of that if you hold your tongue.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan took up his hat.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And who is to be your companion?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague hesitated.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My companion will be a lady.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh! And where's the house with the carriage waiting at the door?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'In Queen's Square, Westminster.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan looked at his clothes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am wearing her damned livery,' he cried. 'No, I will stay and be +hanged like a gentleman, but I take no favours at Lady Oxford's hand,' +and in a passion he began to tear off the clothes.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She offers none,' said Montague. 'She knows nothing of what I intend. +I would not trust her. If you have to stand behind, I have to drive by +her side; and upon my word I would sooner be in your place. Her +ladyship's footman for an hour! Man, are you so proud that your life +cannot make up for the humiliation? Why, I have been her lapdog for a +year.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan stopped, with one arm out of the sleeve of his coat. The notion +that her ladyship was not helping him, but that, on the contrary, he +was tricking her, gave the business a quite different complexion.</p> + +<p class="normal">'D'ye see? The one place in London where the King's Messengers will +not look to find you is the footboard of Lady Oxford's carriage,' +urged Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was reason in the argument: it was the same argument which Mr. +Wogan had used to persuade Mr. Kelly to go to Queen's Square the +evening before, and now he suffered it to persuade himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan drew on the coat again, pulled his peruke about his face, and +drew his hat forward on his forehead.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now follow me. It is a fortunate thing we are close to her ladyship's +house.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague walked quickly to Queen's Square. Wogan followed ten yards +behind. As they turned into the square they saw Lady Oxford's carriage +waiting at the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Does the coachman know?' asked Wogan, lounging up to the Colonel and +touching his hat with his forefinger.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The lackey whose place you took has primed him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At the door Mr. Wogan climbed up to the footboard while Montague +entered the house. In a minute Lady Oxford came out, and was handed +into the carriage by the Colonel. She did not look at her new lackey, +but gave an order to the coachman and the carriage drove off. Mr. +Wogan began to discover a certain humour in the manner of his escape +which tickled him mightily. He noticed more than one of his +acquaintances who would have been ready to lay him by the heels, and +once Lady Oxford made a little jump in her seat and would have stopped +the coachman had not Colonel Montague prevented her. For Lord Sidney +Beauclerk stood on the path gazing at her ladyship and the Colonel +with a perplexed and glowing countenance. Mr. Wogan winked and shook a +friendly foot at him from the back of the carriage, and his lordship +was fairly staggered at the impertinence of her ladyship's footman. So +they drove out past the houses and between the fields.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague was plainly in a great concern lest Lady Oxford +should turn round and discover who rode behind her. He talked with +volubility about the beauty of spring and the blue skies and the green +fields, and uttered a number of irreproachable sentiments about them. +Lady Oxford, however, it seemed, had lost her devotion to a country +life, and was wholly occupied with the Colonel's indifference to +herself. Her vanity put her to a great many shifts, which kept her +restless and Mr. Wogan in a pucker lest she should turn round. Now it +was her cloak that, with an ingenious jerk, she slipped off her +shoulders, and the Colonel must hoist it on again; now it was her +glove that was too small, and the Colonel must deny the imputation and +admire her Liliputian hand, which he failed to do; now his advice was +asked upon the proper shape of a patch at the corner of the mouth, and +a winsome, smiling face was bent to him that he might judge without +any prejudice. The Colonel, however, remained cold, and Wogan was +sorely persuaded to lean over and whisper in his ear:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Flatter her, soften your face and adore her, and she will be quiet as +a cat purring in front of a fire.'</p> + +<p class="normal">For it was solely his indifference that pricked her. Had he pretended +a little affection, she would have whistled him off without any +regret, but she could not endure that he should discard her of his own +free will. This, however, Colonel Montague did not know; he had not +Mr. Wogan's experience of the sex, and so Lady Oxford restlessly +practised her charms upon him until they came to the gates of the +almshouses at Dulwich.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Colonel Montague cried to the coachman to halt.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Or would your ladyship go further?' he asked, and pulled his watch +out of his fob to see the time. But his watch had unaccountably +stopped. 'Nay, there's a sundial in the court there,' he said, and +over his shoulder bade the lackey go and look at it. The lackey +climbed down from the footboard. At the same moment Colonel Montague +bade the coachman turn, and since the lackey kept at the back of the +carriage as it turned, Lady Oxford did not catch a glimpse of him. The +lackey walked through the gates, crossed the grass to the chapel +without troubling his head about the sundial, ran down the passage and +under the archway into a quiet road shaded with chestnut trees and +laburnums. Colonel Montague's groom was walking a horse up and down +the road. Wogan mounted the horse, thrust his feet into the stirrups, +and took the air into his chest with incomparable contentment.</p> + +<p class="normal">The afternoon sunlight shone through the avenue and glistened on the +laburnum flowers. But there is another sort of yellow flower that +blooms from the mouth of a pistol barrel with which Mr. Wogan was at +that moment more concerned, and he unstrapped the holsters and looked +to the priming to see whether the buds were ready to burst. Then he +drove his heels into his horse's flanks and so rode down between the +chestnut trees. 'Your ladyship, we need wait no longer,' said Montague +to Lady Oxford. 'Your footman will not come back, and I have the +honour to return you your packet of letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">With that he drew the letters from his pocket, sealed up in a parcel +with Mr. Kelly's ring. Lady Oxford clutched them tight to her bosom, +and lay back in the carriage, her eyes closed. The coachman drove back +to London.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had gone almost half the way before Lady Oxford recovered +sufficiently from her joy to have a thought for anything but the +letters. Then she looked at Montague, and her eyes widened.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The footman!' she said. 'Ah! I have saved Mr. Kelly after all. I have +saved him!'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel might have pointed out that whatever saving had been done, +Lady Oxford had taken but an involuntary hand in it. But he merely +shrugged his shoulders; he imagined her anxiety on Mr. Kelly's account +to be all counterfeit, although, may be, she was sincere.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Kelly,' he said, 'is most likely in the Tower. Your footman was +Mr. Nicholas Wogan.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford was silent for some little time. Then in a low, broken +voice she said:</p> + +<p class="normal">'There was no need you should have so distrusted me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague glanced at her curiously. Her face had a new look to him. It +was thoughtful, but with a certain simplicity in the thoughtfulness; +compunction saddened it, and it seemed there was no artifice in the +compunction.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam,' he answered gently, 'if I had told you, and the manner of Mr. +Wogan's escape became known, you might fall under the imputation of +favouring Mr. Wogan's cause.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Oxford thanked him with a shy look, and they drove back among the +streets. Neither of them spoke until they reached Queen's Square, but +Colonel Montague was again very gentle as he handed her from the +carriage and bade her good-bye. Lady Oxford's discretion was to seek. +The Colonel seemed to be in a relenting mood; she could not resist the +temptation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My Corydon!' she whispered under her breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">Montague's face hardened in an instant.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My Phylinda!' he replied. 'No, I should say my Smilissa. Madam, there +is, in truth, some family likeness between the names, and perhaps it +would be better if I said simply "Lady Oxford."'</p> + +<p class="normal">So the Colonel got his foot out of the net. Her ladyship made no +answer to his sneer, but bowed her head and passed slowly into her +house. Montague had struck harder than he had intended, and would +gladly have recalled the words. But the door was closed, and the +strange woman out of sight and hearing. He walked away to his lodging +in Ryder Street, very well content with his day's work, and opening +the door of his parlour on the first floor was at once incommoded by a +thick fog of tobacco-smoke. But through the fog he saw, comfortably +stretched in his best armchair, with his peruke pushed back and his +waistcoat unbuttoned, a lackey in Lady Oxford's livery. Montague +lifted up his voice and swore.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">HOW THE MINIATURE OF LADY OXFORD CAME BY +A MISCHANCE.</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">'I lent you the swiftest horse I have,' said Montague.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is just for that reason I am back before you,' replied Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague at once became punctilious to the last degree. He +stood correct in the stiffest attitude of military deportment. A +formal politeness froze the humanity out of his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This makes me very ridiculous, Mr. Wogan,' he said in a tone of +distaste. 'If you will pardon the remark, I was at some pains and +perhaps a little risk to get you safe out of London. You accepted my +services, as it seemed, and yet here you are back in London! Indeed +this makes me very ridiculous.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan had quite forgotten that Colonel Montague was an Englishman, +and so hated ridicule worse than the devil. He was briskly reminded of +the fact, and having ruffled the gentleman's feelings, must now set to +work to soothe them.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is very true, Colonel. My behaviour looks uncommonly like a breach +of good taste. But it was not for the purpose of playing a trick on +you that I came back into danger, when I was safe upon the back of +your beautiful horse. Sure, never have I ridden a nobler beast. A +mouth of velvet, a leg tapered like a fine lady's finger, a coat--sir, +I have seen the wonderful manufactures of Lyons. There never was silk +so smooth or of so bright a gloss, as the noble creature's coat. He +spurned the earth, at each moment he threatened to float among the +clouds. Sure, that horse was the original of Pegasus in a direct +descent. A true horse, and more than a horse, a copy of all that is +best in England, an example of what is most English and therefore most +admired, the true English military gentleman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mr. Wogan,' interrupted Montague, with a grim sort of smile, 'you are +likely to learn a little more particularly about the velvet mouth of +the English military gentleman if you continue to praise his horse at +the expense of his sense. Will you tell me why you have come back?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have a right to ask that, Colonel, but I have no right to answer +you. It is a private affair wherein others are concerned. I should +have remembered it before, but I did not. It only came into my mind +when I was riding between the chestnut trees, and leaving my friend +behind me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Montague was silent for a little.</p> + +<p class="normal">'In another man, Mr. Wogan, I should suspect an intention to meddle +with these plots. But I have no need to remind you that such a +proceeding would not be fair to me. And if Mr. Kelly's concerns have +brought you back I cannot complain. Meanwhile how are you to lie +hidden? I cannot keep you here.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'There are one or two earths, Colonel, which are not yet stopped, I +have no doubt. I did but take the liberty to use your lodging until it +grew dark.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The evening was falling while Wogan and Montague thus talked together. +Wogan wrote a letter which he put into his pocket, and holding the +ends of his wig in his mouth, without any fear ran the hazard of the +streets.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was that evening adorning herself for a +masquerade in her house, when word was carried to her that Lady +Oxford's big lackey was below and had brought a letter. Lady Mary had +no sooner glanced at the superscription than she sent her maid +downstairs to bring the lackey immediately to her boudoir. Thither he +came without awaking suspicion in the servants, and found Lady Mary +sitting in front of her toilette, which was all lighted up with +candles, and the rest of the room dark.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan remained in a dark corner by the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have a message from Lady Oxford,' said she, carelessly holding +out a hand as though to take a letter.</p> + +<p class="normal">'By word of mouth, your ladyship,' replied Wogan in a disguised voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary dismissed her maid and spoke in considerable heat:</p> + +<p class="normal">'Colonel Montague told me you had escaped.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have come back,' replied Wogan coolly, who had no reason to think +he had justly incurred Lady Mary's anger, and so made no account of +it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is sheer madness,' she exclaimed, 'and yet no more mad than it is +for your friends to take precautions for your safety,' and she dabbed +a patch on her cheek viciously. 'Why have you come back?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship has not forgotten how some while ago Lady Oxford paid +her losses at cards.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary raised her head from her mirror and looked at Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'With Mr. Kelly's winnings from the South Sea,' said she.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Your ladyship was kind enough then to say that you would not count +the money yours.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I remember.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But would keep it, since you could not return it to George, until +such time as it could be used on his behalf.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary took a key from a drawer in her toilette and, unlocking a +cabinet in a corner of the room, showed Wogan a parcel of bills of +exchange lying amongst a heap of guineas.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The moment for using it has come,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Take it, then,' said Lady Mary, who now asked for no explanations.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No. It is only of use if your ladyship uses it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'How?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Lady Mary went back to her toilette and busied herself with a number +of little silver pots and boxes, while Wogan disclosed his plan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George was taken last night in his lodging, as your ladyship is no +doubt aware. It is a large sum that Lady Oxford lost at cards, and a +large sum might perhaps bail George, if a trusted Whig were the +surety. He would have some few weeks of liberty, at all events.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Some few weeks that are like to cost you your life,' said Lady Mary, +who was now grown friendly. 'It was to tell me this you came back. I +should have guessed.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Madam, I shall never believe my life's in danger until I am dead,' +replied Wogan, with a laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will see what the money can do to-morrow,' said Lady Mary. 'Where +shall I have news of you? Or very likely I am to meet you at +Ranelagh?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan disclaimed any such bravado, and told her ladyship of a house +where she might hear of him if she sent by night and if her messenger +knocked in a particular way. To that house he now bent his steps, and +stayed there that night and the next day. It was already dark when the +particular knock sounded on the door, and Mr. Wogan lifted a corner of +the blind and peered down into the street. What he saw brought him +down the stairs in a single bound; he opened the door cautiously, and +who should slip in but the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick!' said he, in a warm voice. His hand clasped Wogan's in the +dark. 'Thanks, thanks!'</p> + +<p class="normal">It appeared that Lady Mary, after seeing that George was bailed out, +had told him that the notion of bailing him was none of hers. +Moreover, in order to make sure Smilinda's letters were safe, Kelly +had gone as soon as he was released to Colonel Montague, who told him +of Wogan's return to London and other matters of no importance, so +that he now wasted a great deal of time in superfluous compliments. +'But you shall not lose your life on my account, Nick. Montague's +horse, which it seems you have taken a liking to,' he said, with a +smile, 'will be waiting for you at twelve o'clock to-night at Dulwich, +and in the same road; but, Nick, this time you will have to walk to +Dulwich. There is a warrant out for you. You can slip away with a +better chance on foot; and, Nick, this time you will not come back. +Promise me that.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan promised readily enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I brought the Colonel into some danger of suspicion by returning +before,' he said. 'It is a strange thing, George, that, while our +friends have left us in the lurch, we should owe, I my escape, you +your few weeks of liberty, to perfectly inveterate Whigs, though how +you came to an understanding with the Colonel is quite beyond me to +imagine.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will tell you that now, Nick, since you have an hour to spare;' +and, going up to Wogan's room, Mr. Kelly related to him the story of +his meeting with the Colonel in the Park, of the disturbance with the +Messengers in his rooms, and of the saving of Smilinda, and how his +love for Rose urged him to it. It was eight o'clock when he had come +to an end. Mr. Wogan heard the clocks striking the hour.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will take me an hour to get to Dulwich,' he said, 'so I have three +hours to spare. George, have you seen Rose?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No; but she knows that I am free, for Lady Mary sent the news to +her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's a pity,' said Wogan, pursing his lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">'On the contrary, it was not the least kind of Lady Mary's many +kindnesses,' said George, who was astonished at Mr. Wogan's cruelty, +that would have left the girl in her anxieties a moment longer than +was necessary. 'Had she not heard the news till it was stale, she +would never have forgiven me--she that has forgiven me so much,' said +he, with more sentiment than logic.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' said Wogan, 'she has forgiven you so much? My young friend, you +are very certain upon a very uncertain point. There's that little +matter of her ladyship's miniature.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly looked anxiously at Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'True,' said he; 'I told her a lie about it at Avignon, and made out +it was the likeness of Queen Clementina.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'The lie is the smallest part of the difficulty. She wore the +miniature, and wore it in Lady Oxford's withdrawing-room. There's the +trouble, for there's the humiliation.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, Nick,' said Kelly, 'she forgave it. Didn't I escort her to her +chair? Didn't I feel her hand upon the sleeve of my coat?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh! she carried herself very bravely, never a doubt of that. For one +thing, you were in peril; and, to be sure, she will have kept a liking +for you at the worst of it. For another, Lady Oxford was there, and +Lady Oxford was not to win the day. My little friend Rose is a girl of +an uncommon spirit, and would hold her own against any woman, for all +her modest ways. But, just because she has spirit, she will not meekly +forgive you. If you expect her to droop humbly on to your bosom, you +are entirely in the wrong of it. 'Oons! but it must have been a hard +blow to her pride when she found she was in Lady Oxford's house, and +knew who Lady Oxford was, and had that miniature about her throat. +Will she forgive you at all? The best you have to hope is that she +will be content with making your head sing. That she will do for a +sure thing; and I think--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What?' asked the Parson. The danger of life, the Messengers, the +angry Colonel, had only raised his blood; the fear of Rose drove it to +his heart. He was now plainly scared.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I think it was the greatest pity imaginable that Lady Mary sent word +to her you were free. For, d'ye see, if you had dropped upon Rose +suddenly, and she thinking you locked up in a dark prison and your +head already loose upon your shoulders, why, you might have surprised +her into a forgetfulness of her pride; but now she will be prepared +for your coming. I think, George, I will walk along with you as far as +Soho, since I have three hours to kick my heels in.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you, Nick?' cried George eagerly; and then, with his nose in the +air, 'But I have no fears whatever. She is a woman in a thousand.' He +was, none the less, evidently relieved when Wogan clapped his hat on +his head. The night was dark, and Wogan in his livery had no fears of +detection.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two men walked through by-streets until they came to Piccadilly. +The Parson was nerving himself for the meeting, but would not allow +that he was in the least degree afraid. 'A trivial woman would think +of nothing but her humiliation and her slight, but Rose is, as you +say, of an uncommon spirit, Nick,' he argued.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nick, however, preserved a majestic silence, which daunted the Parson, +who desired arguments to confute. They were by this time come into +Bond Street, and Mr. Kelly, who must be talking, declared with a great +fervour, 'There are no limits to a woman's leniencies. Black errors +she will pardon; charity is her father and her mother; she has an +infinity of forgiveness, wherefore with truth we place her among the +angels.' Upon that text he preached most eloquently all the way up +Bond Street, past the New Building, until he came to the corner of +Frith Street in Soho. In Frith Street, all at once the Parson's +assurance was shown to be counterfeit. He caught at his friend's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' said he, in a quavering, humble voice, 'it is in Frith Street +she lives. What am I to do at all? I am the most ignorant man, and a +coward into the bargain. Nick, I have done the unpardonable thing. +What am I to do now?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus the Parson twittered in a most deplorable agitation. Mr. Wogan, +on the contrary, was very calm. It was just in these little +difficulties, which require an intimate knowledge of the sex, that he +felt himself most at home. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' and George shook the arm he held, 'sure you can advise me. You +have told me so often of your great comprehension of women. Sure, you +know all there is to be known about them, at all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, not quite all,' said Wogan, with a proper modesty. 'But here I +think I can help you. Which is the house?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Kelly pointed it out. A couple of windows shone very bright upon the +dark street, a few feet above their heads. Looking upwards they could +see the ceiling of the room and the globe of a lamp reflected on the +ceiling, but no more.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is in that room she will be sitting,' whispered the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And waiting for you,' added Mr. Wogan grimly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'And waiting for me,' repeated the Parson with a shiver.</p> + +<p class="normal">They both stared for a little at the ceiling and the shadow of the +lamp.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Now, if the ceiling would only tell us something of her face,' said +Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It would be as well to have a look at her,' said Wogan. The street +was quite deserted. 'Will you give me a back'?</p> + +<p class="normal">The house was separated from the path by an iron railing a couple of +feet from the wall. The Parson set his legs apart and steadied himself +by the railing, while Wogan climbed up and knelt on to his shoulders. +In that position he was able to lean forward and catch hold of the +sill. His forehead was on a level with the sill. By craning his neck +he could just look into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is she there?' asked the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, and alone.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'How does she look? Not in tears? Nick, don't tell me she's in tears.' +The Parson's legs became unsteady at the mere supposition of such a +calamity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Make yourself easy upon that point,' said Wogan, clinging for dear +life to the sill, 'there's never a trace of a tear about her at all. +For your sake, George, I could wish that there was. Her eyes are as +dry as a campaigner's biscuits. Oh, George, I am in despair for you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, you are the most consoling friend,' groaned the Parson, who now +wished for tears more than anything else in the world. 'What is she +doing?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nothing at all. She is sitting at the table. George, have you ever +noticed her chin? It is a sort of decisive chin, and upon my word, +George, it has the ugliest jilting look that ever I saw. She has just +the same look in her big grey eyes, which are staring at nothing at +all. Keep still, George, or you will throw me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">For the Parson was become as uneasy as a restive horse.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, Nick, is she doing nothing at all? Is she reading?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, she is doing nothing but expect you. But she is expecting you. +Steady, for if I tumble off your shoulders the noise will bring her to +the windows.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The menace had its effect. Mr. Kelly's limbs became pillars of marble, +and Wogan again looked into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wait a moment,' he said, 'I see what she is doing. She is staring at +something she holds in her hands.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My likeness?' cried the Parson hopefully. 'To be sure it will be +that.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I will tell you in a moment. Hold on to the railings, George.'</p> + +<p class="normal">George did as he was bid, and Wogan, still holding to the window-sill +very cautiously, stood up on his friend's shoulders. George, however, +seemed quite insensible to Mr. Wogan's weight.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It will be my likeness,' he repeated to himself. 'I had it done for +her by Mr. Zincke. I was right, Nick; she has forgiven me altogether.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan's head was now well above the window-sill, and he looked +downwards upon Rose, who sat at the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes, it's a likeness,' said Nick.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I told you. I told you,' said the Parson. The man began to wriggle +with satisfaction. 'You are wrong, Nick. You know nothing at all about +women, after all. Come down, you vainglorious boaster.' It seemed he +was about to cut capers with Mr. Wogan on his shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Wait,' said Nick suddenly, and hitched himself higher.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, she will see you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, she's occupied. George!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is it?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It's Lady Oxford's miniature she is staring at, and not yours at +all.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson grew quite stiff and rigid.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Are you sure?' he whispered, in an awe-stricken voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I can see the diamonds flashing. 'Faith my friend, but I had done +better to have let you throw them into the sea at Genoa.'</p> + +<p class="normal">A groan broke from the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why didn't you, Nick? What am I to do now?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I can see the face. 'Tis the miniature of her ladyship that you gave +out to be Queen Clementina's. Did you ever meet Gaydon, George?' he +asked curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Gaydon?' asked Kelly. 'What in the world has Gaydon to do with Rose?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Listen, and I'll inform you. He told my brother Charles a very pretty +story of the Princess Clementina. It seems that when she escaped out +of her perils and came to Bologna to marry the Chevalier, who had, +just at the moment when he expected his bride, unaccountably retired +into Spain, she stayed at Bologna, and so, picking up the gossip of +the town, expressed a great desire to visit the Caprara Palace. 'Twas +there the lady lived who had consoled the Chevalier in his anxieties. +No doubt he never expected the Princess to get out of the Emperor's +prison. But Charles got her out, and here was she at Bologna. To be +sure, the Princess was a most natural woman, eh? And when she came to +the Caprara Palace she asked to be shown the portrait of the Princess +de la Caprara. That was more natural still. Gaydon describes how she +looked at the portrait, and describes very well. For sure Rose is +looking at Lady Oxford's in just the same way.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'That's good news, Nick,' said Kelly, grasping at a straw of comfort. +'For the Princess Clementina forgave.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, but there's a difference I did not remark at the first. I +remember Gaydon said the Princess turned very red, while your little +friend Rose, on the contrary, is white to the edge of her lips. Sure, +red forgives, when white will not. George,' and Mr. Wogan ducked his +head beneath the window-ledge, 'she is coming to the window! For the +love of mercy don't move, or she will hear!'</p> + +<p class="normal">George pressed himself close to the railings. Wogan hunched himself +against the wall in the most precarious attitude. Would she open the +window? Would she see them? Both men quaked as they asked themselves +the question, though they had come thither for no other purpose but to +see her and be seen of her. Wogan threw a glance over his shoulder to +where the light of the window fell upon the road. But no shadow +obscured it.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sure, she's not coming to the window at all,' said Nick.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh, Nick,' whispered the Parson, 'you made my heart jump into my +throat.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan drew his head up level with the window again, and again ducked.</p> + +<p class="normal">'She is standing looking towards the window with the likeness in her +hand,' and he scrambled to the ground, where the pair of them stood +looking at one another, and then to the house, and from the house down +the street. Wogan was the first to find his tongue.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a monstrous thing,' said he, and he thumped his chest, 'that a +mere slip of a girl should frighten two grown men to death.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly thumped his chest too, but without any assurance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick, I must look for myself,' he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Footsteps sounded a little distance down the street, and sounded +louder the next moment. A man was approaching; they waited until he +had passed, and then Mr. Kelly climbed on to Wogan's shoulders, and in +his turn looked into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick!' he whispered in a voice of awe.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is she doing?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She has thrown Smilinda's likeness on the ground. She is stamping on +it with her heel. She is grinding it all in pieces.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'And the beautiful diamonds? Look if she picks them up, George!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No; she pays no heed to the stones. It is the likeness she thinks of. +It was in pieces a moment ago; it is all powder now,' and he groaned.</p> + +<p class="normal">'George, it is an ill business. When a woman spurns diamonds you may +be sure she is in a mortal fluster. It's a Gorgon you have to meet--a +veritable Gorgon.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly slid from Wogan's shoulders to the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What will I do, Nick?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Nick bit his thumb, then threw his shoulders back.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am not afraid of her,' said he. 'No, I am not. I have done nothing +to anger or humiliate her. I am not afraid of her at all--not the +least in the world. I will go in myself. I will beard her just to show +you I am not at all afraid of her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Will you do that? Nick, you <i>are</i> a friend,' cried Kelly, who was +most reasonably startled by his friend's heroism.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure I will,' said Nick, looking up at the window. 'I am not +afraid of her. A little slip of a girl! Why should we fear her at all? +Haven't we killed men more than once? Do you wait here, George. If I +hold my hand up at the window with my fingers open--so, you may come +in. But if I hold up a clenched fist, you had best go home as fast as +your legs can carry you. You see, the case is different with you. I +have no reason whatever to be frightened at her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">He knocked at the door, and in a little the door was opened. 'Not the +least bit in the world!' he stopped to say to Mr. Kelly in the street. +Then he stepped into the passage.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">MR. WOGAN TRADUCES HIS FRIEND, WITH THE +HAPPIEST CONSEQUENCES</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan's title of Hilton was now, thanks to the <i>Flying Post</i>, as +familiar as his name; he refused both the one and the other to the +servant, and was admitted to Rose Townley without any formalities. Her +eyes flashed as they remarked his livery, but she was not in any +concern about Mr. Wogan, and asked him no questions. She rose with the +utmost coldness, did not give him her hand, and only the bare mockery +of a bow, as though her indignation against Mr. Kelly was so complete +that it must needs embrace his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thought that he would have plucked up enough courage to come +himself,' said she, with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">'He is a man of the meanest spirit,' replied Wogan, in a sullen +agreement. 'It is a strange thing how easily one may be misled. Here +have I been going up and down the world with him for years, and I +never knew him until now, never knew the black heart of him, and his +abominable perfidies.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose was taken aback by Wogan's speech. No doubt she expected a +hotch-potch of excuses and arguments on Mr. Kelly's behalf, which +would but have confirmed her in her own opinion; but falling in with +her views, he took the words out of her mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">'So,' she said doubtfully, 'he has lost your friendship too?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' cried Wogan in a heat, 'would you have me keep friends +with a vile wretch whose thoughts writhe at the bottom of his soul +like a poisonous nest of vipers?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose neither answered the question nor expressed any approval of +Wogan's elegant figure describing Mr. Kelly's mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Oh,' said she, 'then he did not send you to make his peace with me?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan answered with all the appearances of reluctance.</p> + +<p class="normal">'No. In fact the man was coming himself, and with a light heart. He +made a great to-do about the infinite fairness and charity of women, +which place them equal to the angels, and how you excelled all women +in that and other womanly qualities. But I told him, on the contrary, +that I knew your spirit, and that you were of too noble a pride to +shut your eyes to a slight, and would certainly dismiss him. However, +he would not be persuaded, so I slipped away from him and ran here, so +that I might warn you against him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose forgot to thank Mr. Wogan for his zeal on her behalf. Indeed her +face, in spite of herself, had lightened for a second; in spite of +herself her eyes had sparkled when Wogan spoke of the great faith Mr. +Kelly had in her charity.</p> + +<p class="normal">'It was more than a slight,' she said, 'I could forgive a slight--He +would have come himself had not you prevented him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he is coming. He would have been here already, but that he paid a +visit on the way to Colonel Montague to discover whether Lady Oxford's +letters had been restored to her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Lady Oxford's letters!' exclaimed Rose, her face flushing again with +anger.</p> + +<p class="normal">'To be sure,' said Wogan, 'you would know nothing of them. It is a +fine story--the story of Lady Oxford's love-letters.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have no wish to hear it,' cried Rose sharply, and she turned +towards the window. Mr. Wogan took a quick step towards her. If she +looked out of the window she could hardly fail to observe the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nor is it a story that you should hear,' said Wogan in a soothing +voice, 'though indeed to hear it from Mr. Kelly's lips would surely +make you aware of his devilish sophistries. For he declares that, but +for you, Lady Oxford's love-letters would never have been restored to +her, nor would he have gone to prison and put his neck in the noose.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose shivered at those last words and drew in her breath. She turned +quickly back to Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'But for me?' she asked. 'What have I to do with Lady Oxford's +love-letters, or with his danger?' and her voice softened towards the +end of the sentence.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Why, Lady Oxford, who knew very well Mr. Kelly's trade, betrayed him +in revenge for a certain ballad wherein your name was mentioned.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' interrupted Rose, 'Lady Mary told me of the ballad.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well, you heard Mr. Kelly perhaps assure Lady Oxford that he had her +brocades in his lodging, and perhaps you remarked her ladyship's +confusion.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes. I guessed what the brocades were.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Very well. Mr. Kelly remained with her Ladyship, who informed him +that he would be taken outside his door, and his rooms searched. There +were papers in his rooms of a kind to bring him into great danger. But +there were also Lady Oxford's letters. The story he will tell you is +this, that he meant to use Lady Oxford's letters as a weapon by which +he might save his papers and so himself; but a complete revolution +took place in his thoughts. He suddenly understood that he owed it to +you that no woman's name should be smirched by his fault, and that +thus he was bound, at the peril of his life, to rescue Lady Oxford's +letters, as he did. A strange chance put it into his hands to burn his +own papers, and leave Lady Oxford's to be seized, in which case he +would have been saved, and she lost. But he saved his honour instead, +and his love for you helped him to it. He rescued her Ladyship's +letters, his own are in the hands of the Minister.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan, who had now secured a most attentive listener, disclosed +all that Mr. Kelly had told him of what took place in Ryder Street.</p> + +<p class="normal">'This is the story he will tell you. And to be sure, he adds a pretty +touch to the pretence. For he went whistling to prison and he says +that he whistled because he felt as if you were walking by his side.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But what if it were no pretence at all?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan sagely shook his head, though the story had the stamp of +truth on it to those who knew the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'If he had held you in such respect would he have sent you Lady +Oxford's miniature to wear at Lady Oxford's rout?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he did not send it to me for that purpose,' she cried, 'he did +not even know that I was going to the rout. He gave me the miniature a +long time ago, when it would have been very difficult for him to tell +me whose it was.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But he told you it was Queen Clementina's.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No. It was I who guessed at that, and he--did not deny it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here at all events was sophistry, but Mr. Wogan was less indignant at +it than his anger with the Parson's subtleties would lead one to +expect.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Well,' said Wogan, 'I have told you what it was my plain duty to +disclose to you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">At this moment Wogan chanced to look towards the window. He beheld Mr. +Kelly's face pressed against the glass. The man had grown impatient +and so had climbed on to the railings. Mr. Wogan broke off with an +exclamation he could not repress.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What is it?' said Rose, turning about.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Some most beautiful diamonds,' said Wogan, spreading out his hand to +the window. He then dropped on to the floor and began picking up the +diamonds which Rose had scattered when she set her foot on the +miniature. Rose bit her lips, and flushed, as he held them in his +palm. Then he said carelessly:</p> + +<p class="normal">'That fine miniature had diamonds set about it. D'ye know, Miss +Townley, that miniature would have been at the bottom of the sea long +before Mr. Kelly came to Avignon, but for the diamonds about it. 'Twas +I held his arm when, having done with her Ladyship, he would also have +done with her Ladyship's present, and I bade him keep it for the value +of the jewels.'</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a loud knocking at the door, which came not a moment earlier +than was necessary to prevent Mr. Wogan revealing himself as still the +Parson's friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">'There's the fellow come to importune you,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Then he would have thrown it away but for you,' said Miss Townley +thoughtfully. 'He did not keep it out of any--'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Wogan heard the servant pass down to the door, and thought it +would be as well if he had a private word with the Parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You will excuse me,' he said with dignity, 'but I have no heart for +the man's company. Besides, I have stayed too long in London as it is. +Delays would be dangerous.'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rose had no ears for any dangers of Mr. Wogan, as he was +indescribably glad to remark. For her eyes looked past him to the +door; from head to foot she seemed to listen for the sound of the +Parson's voice. Mr. Wogan bowed, and opened the door. Though she +followed him to the door, and held it open as he passed out, she did +not notice that he was going, she had no word of farewell. She did not +even notice that Mr. Wogan put the diamonds in his pocket. For Mr. +Wogan had his wits about him. Diamonds were diamonds, and the carpet +no place for them. Some day they might be of use to the Parson. The +door of the street was opened as Wogan stepped into the passage. But +Rose did not shut the door of the parlour and so Wogan, as he met +Kelly, could only whisper hurriedly, 'Remember, I am your worst +enemy,' and so left him to his own resources.</p> + +<p class="normal">It appeared, however, that they were sufficient. The Parson made no +excuses whatever; he carried the day by the modesty of his omissions. +Both with regard to the miniature and to the saving of Smilinda he +disclosed to her no more than a bald array of facts. He made no parade +of the part which the thought of Rose had played in the revulsion of +his feelings, bringing him to see that he was bound in honour to save +Smilinda's honour; he did not tell her why he went whistling to +prison. But Rose knew from Wogan of these evidences of his love, and +no doubt thought of them the more because he would not use them to +soften her just resentments.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Wogan left them together, and, walking out to Dulwich, found the +Colonel's horse waiting in the road between the chestnut trees. He +came to the coast of Sussex in the morning, where he had friends among +the smugglers, and lay all that day in a hut within sound of the +waves. It was a black, melancholy day for Nicholas Wogan, who was +leaving his friends behind him to face their perils alone, and who +felt very solitary; not even the memory of the noble deeds of his +illustrious forefathers had any power to cheer him, until he heard the +grating noise of the boat's keel as it was dragged down the beach to +the sea, and saw the sail like a great wing waft up between him and +the stars.</p> + +<p class="normal">He got safe to Paris, where he heard of the strange use to which the +Parson put his few weeks of liberty, for the Parson married Rose +Townley three weeks later at St. James's Church in Piccadilly, and +wrote to Mr. Wogan a very warm, human sort of letter which had not one +single classical allusion to disfigure it. In that letter he gave the +reasons which had induced him to the marriage.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am told,' he wrote, 'that a man so dangerously circumstanced must +be selfish in the extreme to marry a woman who, in a short while, may, +at the worst, be widowed; and at the best must be separated from her +husband in his gaol. I do not fear that you will have so mean an +opinion of my inclinations, but I would not have you think me careless +upon this point neither. Dr. Townley is old, and his health breaks. He +will leave his daughter, when he dies, but little money, and that +moment cannot be very far off. It is true that Rose has beauty, and no +doubt she might make a rich marriage if she had only beauty. But she +has frankness, truth, and constancy as well, qualities which are not +marketable wares, since those who possess them will not bring them +into the market. Now, if I suffer death for the Cause, Rose will be no +poorer than she was before; if, on the other hand, I live, there are +the booksellers, and from the silence of my prison I can make shift to +earn for her a decent livelihood.'</p> + +<p class="normal">As all the world knows, Mr. Kelly lived, and even gained much credit +by his speech at his trial. He made it plain, to all but prejudiced +Whigs, that there was no Plot, nor he concerned in any, if there were. +But what is Whig justice? He was sentenced to prison for life. The +papers in his strong box were enough to help a foolish fellow, +Counsellor Layer, on his way to Tyburn, enough to send Lord Orrery to +the Tower, and Lord North and Grey into exile. The Plot was ruined for +that time; the Bishop of Rochester was banished, for Mar's traitorous +mention of the dog Harlequin fixed the guilt on that holy man. Mr. +Kelly came off with loss of fourteen years of his life, which years he +passed in the Tower.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not, after all, so silent a prison as he imagined it would be. +For though during the first months his confinement was severe, and he +never drew air except from between the bars, afterwards this rigour +was relaxed. He was placed in a room of which one window took the +morning sun, and the other commanded the river, and the ships going up +and down with the tide; he was allowed the use of his books, and to +receive what visitors he would. His visitors were not few, and amongst +them Colonel Montague was the most frequent. His gaolers, the officers +who were stationed in the Tower, and their wives, became his familiar +friends, and it is said that when, after fourteen years, he escaped, +not a woman in the precincts could make up her mind whether to clap +her hands for joy, or weep at the loss of his society. Moreover, Rose +came and went at her pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">The first years of his imprisonment were thus not wholly unhappy +years. He sat amongst his books translating Cicero, and if at times +his limbs ached for the stress and activity of his youth, and he began +to dream of hours in the saddle and starry nights at sea, it was not +perhaps for very long. He had friends enough to divert his leisure +moments, and Rose to keep him busy at his work. For what he had +foreseen came to pass. Two years after Mr. Kelly came to the Tower, +Dr. Townley died, and left Rose but poorly circumstanced. She came to +lodge close by the Tower Gates, and the Parson set his pen to his +paper and wrote essays and translations till the whole Tower of London +buzzed with his learning, and no doubt a friendly Jacobite here and +there bought one of his books. Mr. Wogan, indeed, bought them all. He +has them ranged upon a bookshelf in his lodging at Paris, all bound in +leather and most dignified; the very print has a sonorous look. 'Mr. +Kelly's <i>Opera</i>' he calls them, and always speaks of the books as +'tomes' with prodigious respect and perhaps a sigh. For--</p> + +<p class="normal">'He lacks one quality,' Mr. Wogan was heard to say, 'to set him on the +pinnacle of fame. He cannot write poetry. It is a trick, no doubt, a +poor sort of trick; but George had it not, and so when there was +poetry to be written, he had to come to his friends.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus ten years passed, and then came the black day, when Rose fell +sick of a fever and must keep her bed. She sent word to George daily +that he should expect her on the morrow, until a delirium took her, +and the doctor, who had been charged by Rose to make light of her +suffering, was now forced to tell Mr. Kelly the truth. She lay at +death's door, calling on her husband, who could not come to her, and +talking ever of that little garden at Avignon above the Rhone, in +which she fancied that he and she now walked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Kelly took the news in silence as a dog takes pain, and never +slept and barely moved while the fever ran its course. Rose was at the +Tower Gates, George was in his prison; a few yards only were between +them, but those few yards were built upon with stones. In the daytime +messages were brought to him often enough, but at night, when the +mists rose from the river and the gates were closed, and the Parson +had the dark loitering hours wherein to picture the sick room with its +dim light and the tired figure tossing from this side to that of the +bed, then indeed Smilinda had her revenge.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">HOW, BY KEEPING PAROLE, MR. KELLY BROKE +PRISON</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Every morning Mr. Kelly looked for the doctor to come to him with word +that in the little house without the Tower Gate the blinds were drawn. +But that message was not brought to him, and Colonel Montague, making +a visit to the prison, three weeks after Rose fell ill, found the +Parson sitting very quiet in his chair with a face strangely +illumined.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Last night she slept,' said George, 'and waked only at midday. The +fever has left her, and she will live. It is wonderful.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel said what was fitting to the occasion, and the Parson +replied to him absently, with his eyes upon the river and the boats +swinging on the tide; and after a while Father Myles Macdonnell, whom +the Colonel had neither seen nor heard of, was ushered into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Reverend Father was a kinsman of Parson Kelly, and though their +acquaintance had been of the slightest, the Parson now turned to him +with a great welcome. For his thoughts were now entirely bent upon an +escape from his captivity. He dared not survey the possibility that +some time Rose might again fall ill, and that again he must sit behind +the bars and only hear news of how she fared.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Reverend Myles, who was of the honest party, but not as yet blown +upon by suspicion, seemed to him his only help and instrument. For a +long while, when the Colonel had gone, the pair debated the means of +escape, but found no issue; and Rose brought her white face back to +the Tower, and the Parson's spirits drooped, so that at last his +health began to fail. He was therefore allowed to drive out in a coach +to any place within ten miles of London in the custody of a warder, +and on his parole to return before dark. Of this favour he made +frequent use, and no doubt the sight of the busy faces in the streets +urged him yet more to make a bid for his freedom.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now these journeys of the Parson to take the air set Father Myles +Macdonnell upon a pretty plan, which he imparted to Rose and to +George.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You drive one afternoon up into Highgate Woods--d'ye follow that? I +have half-a-dozen well-disposed persons hiding in a clump of trees who +will take care of your warder--d'ye see? There will be a stout horse +tethered to a branch close by, and a lugger waiting off the coast of +Essex--'but the Parson would hear no more of the scheme.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I have given my parole to come back to the Tower before dark,' said +he, and glanced at Rose, who was looking away, to strengthen him in +his objection. 'I cannot break it, can I, Rose? I have given my +parole. I am not one of the Butcher Cumberland's officers. We must +keep troth.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Rose made an effort and agreed.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' said she, 'he has given his parole, and he cannot break it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not so long as he's a lost Protestant,' said the Reverend Father. He +tapped George on the knee, and continued in a wheedling voice: 'It is +a matter of religion, d'ye see? Just let me convert you. I can do it +in a twinkling, and so I shall save your body and your soul in one +glorious moment.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'How so? 'asked the Parson with a laugh, for he was by this time well +used to his kinsman's efforts to convert him. 'How shall a Catholic +creep out of the Tower more easily than a Protestant?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Because a Catholic can break his parole. It's a great sin, to be +sure, but I can absolve him for it afterwards.'</p> + +<p class="normal">To Mr. Kelly's thinking (and, indeed, to Mr. Wogan's) this was no +sterling theology, and he would not be persuaded. Another device had +to be invented, and when at last a satisfactory plan was resolved +upon, the plotters must wait for the quick nightfalls of autumn.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was on Guy Fawkes day, the fifth of November, 1736, that Mr. Kelly +made his escape. On the morning of that day he drove out to Epsom in +the custody of his warder and upon his parole to return before dark. +At four o'clock, when the light was just beginning to fall, Father +Myles Macdonnell came into the Tower by the Sally Port Stairs opposite +the Mint. He was told that the Parson was taking the air, and replied +that he would go to the Parson's room and wait. Thereupon he crossed +the precincts of the Tower, and coming over the green and down the +steps of the main-guard, he inquired of the porter at Traitor's Gate +whether or no Mr. Kelly had returned.</p> + +<p class="normal">The porter answered 'Not yet.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is a great pity,' said the Reverend Myles, who seemed much +flustered. 'I am in a great hurry, and would you tell him, if you +please, the moment he comes, to run with all haste to his room?'</p> + +<p class="normal">Upon that he turned off under the archway of the Bloody Tower, and +again mounted the steps of the main-guard.</p> + +<p class="normal">About half-an-hour afterwards, in the deepening twilight, Mr. Kelly +was set down within the Traitor's Gate; he had kept his parole. The +porter gave him Father Myles's message; and the warder, since it +appeared that he could only proceed as usual to his lodging, took his +leave of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Parson accordingly ran up the steps of the main-guard on to the +green, which was by this time very obscure. Three minutes afterwards +Father Myles Macdonnell hurried past the sentry at the Sally Port +Stairs opposite the Mint, grumbling that he would wait no longer, and +so came out upon Tower Hill. Just at that time to a moment another +Father Myles Macdonnell accosted the porter at Traitor's Gate and +requested him to let him out, seeing that he was, as he had already +said, in a great hurry. The porter let him out with no more ado.</p> + +<p class="normal">The second Father Myles was the real Father Myles; the first one who +went grumbling out by the Sally Port Stairs was Parson Kelly. He had +met Father Myles in the dark corner by Beauchamp Tower, had slipped +over his head a cassock which the Father had brought with him, and had +run across to the entrance over against the Mint, and so into freedom.</p> + +<p class="normal">The carriage which had driven him to Epsom, after putting him down +again at the Tower, had driven to Tower Hill, where it waited for the +Parson close by the Sally Port Stairs. It did not wait long: and the +Parson was hurried at a gallop out of London amidst the crackling of +fireworks and the burning of effigies of Guy Fawkes. It seemed the +town was illuminated to celebrate his escape.</p> + +<p class="normal">At the Tower his evasion was not discovered until half-past seven of +the evening, when the two porters, being relieved from their separate +stations at the Traitor's Gate and the Sally Port Stairs, each vowed +that he had let out Father Myles Macdonnell. This seemed so miraculous +an occurrence that the warder ran to Mr. Kelly's chamber. It was +empty, and then the clamour began. The Parson had thus three hours' +start, and, though a reward of 300<i>l</i>. was offered for his recapture, +no more was heard of him for a week.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then, however, two fishermen coming into an alehouse at Broadstairs +saw the reward for Kelly proclaimed in print upon the wall, and fell +into a great fury and passion, saying that they had only received five +pounds when they might have had three hundred. For a fee of five +pounds they had put a man over from Broadstairs to Calais, who, when +once he was landed in France, had said to them:</p> + +<p class="normal">'If anyone inquires for George Kelly, you may say that he is safely +landed in France.'</p> + +<p class="normal">And indeed at the very moment when the fishermen were lamenting their +mistake in the alehouse, George Kelly and Rose were taking their +dinner in Mr. Wogan's lodging at Paris. Rose had travelled into France +the day before the Parson escaped, and so, after fourteen years, they +were united. It was a merry sort of a party, and no doubt Wogan made a +great deal of unnecessary noise. He drew the Parson aside into a +window before the evening was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You are not very rich, I suppose?' said he.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I want for nothing,' said the Parson with a foolish eye on Rose, like +a boy of eighteen.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan fumbled in his fob and brought out a packet which he unfolded.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Diamonds!' cried Kelly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'They are yours,' said Wogan. 'I picked them up off the floor of a +room in Soho on an occasion which you may remember. A miniature frame +had come by a mischance.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Smilinda's?' asked Kelly with a frightened glance over his shoulder +to Rose, who had the discretion not to meddle in this private +conversation.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Yes,' says Wogan; 'Smilinda's. She gave the stones to you. Very +likely they are worth a trifle.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'We'll slip out and sell them to-morrow,' answered the Parson in a +whisper.</p> + +<p class="normal">They slipped out, but they did not sell them. The diamonds were paste, +and Mr. Wogan at last understood why Lady Oxford, when she gave her +miniature set with brilliants to the Parson, had been so anxious that +he should never part with it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">MR. WOGAN AGAIN INVADES ENGLAND, MEETS THE +ELECT LADY, AND BEARS WITNESS TO HER PERFECTIONS</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to Wogan that this particular story of the Parson's +fortunes, which began in Paris so long ago, had now ended in Paris. +But he was wrong, and it was not till ten years after Mr. Kelly's +escape from the Tower that Wogan witnessed the last circumstance in +England, and himself spoke the closing word.</p> + +<p class="normal">Retiring soon from Paris, which ill suited a slender purse, Mr. Kelly +lived, with his fair wife, at Avignon, where he played secretary to +the Duke of Ormond. The Parson was a <i>gêne</i> on the amours of the aged +Duke, who posted him off, in the year Forty-Five, to, escort the +Prince of Wales to the Scottish islands. Wogan himself, earlier in the +same year of grace, lost an arm at the battle of Fontenoy, but got a +leaf of the laurels, being dubbed Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis.</p> + +<p class="normal">His arm amputated and the wound healed, Wogan must needs join the +Prince of Wales, then residing in his palace of Holyrood, near +Edinburgh. Wogan came too late for that pretty onfall at Prestonpans, +but he marched south with the Prince's forces, riding again the old +roads from Carlisle to Lancaster and Preston. The buxom maids of the +inns were broad-blown landladies now; some of them remembered Wogan; +and the ale was as good as ever.</p> + +<p class="normal">It chanced that at Preston, where he tarried for a couple of days, Mr. +Wogan was billeted on a cobbler, a worthy man, but besotted with a new +religion, which then caused many popular tumults. To England it had +been brought over from America by two brothers of Wogan's old friend, +Sam Wesley, the usher at Westminster School, and familiar of Bishop +Atterbury.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan's host could talk of nothing but this creed, whose devotees +cried out (it seemed), laughed, fell down in fits, barked, and made +confession in public.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, sir,' he said to Wogan, 'if you could but hear the Brothers +Wesley, Charles and John, in the pulpit or singing hymns! Charles +sings like an angel, and to hear John exhort the unaroused might waken +those who have lain for a score of years in the arms of the Devil.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'John Wesley, little Jack Wesley?' cried Wogan. 'Why, I have saved him +from many a beating at Westminster School!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Do you know that saint, sir? 'asked the cobbler, in an enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Know him, I know nobody else, if he is the brother of honest Sam +Wesley, that once let me into the Deanery on a night in May. Assuredly +I knew little Jack.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The cobbler came near kneeling to Wogan. 'Here, indeed, is the finger +of Providence,' he exclaimed. 'Dear sir, you may yet cast off the +swathings of the Scarlet Woman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Easy, be easy, Mr. Crispin!' quoth Wogan. 'But tell me, is Jack to +preach and is Charles to sing in this town of yours to-night?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Unhappily no, but we are promised the joy of hearing that famed +disciple, Mr. Bunton, discourse, and the Elect Lady, as the Brethren +style her, will also speak.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Do the women preach in your new Church?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, but they are permitted to tell the story of their call, and +to-night we shall hear the Elect Lady--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Confess before the congregation? 'Faith, the discourse may be +improving. Is the Elect Lady handsome?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'She hath been one of the most renowned beauties of her age, and there +are some who say that she is little altered by time. Ah, sir, she will +make you embrace the truth.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'My embraces were ever at the mercy of feminine persuasion,' said +Wogan. 'Is this Elect Lady of these parts?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'No, sir, she comes from the South, travelling with holy Mr. Bunton. +You will oblige me infinitely, sir, if you will take pity on your own +poor soul and join our love-feast. We meet in the warehouse of Mr. +Brown, our most eminent grocer, in Scotch Lane, behind the "Jackdaw +and Bagpipes."'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I thank you for your solicitude,' Wogan said; 'and as to the +love-feast, I'll think of it.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Consequently he thought no more of it till the bottle had gone round +half-a-dozen times at the Prince's mess in the 'Bull Tavern.' Lord +Elcho, who had certainly drunk his dose, began telling, as a good +thing, of his conversation with a <i>bourgeois</i> of Preston.</p> + +<p class="normal">'"What is your Prince's religion?" asked the <i>bourgeois</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">'"That is still to seek, my good man, still to seek," I answered him,' +cried Elcho, laughing.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Prince laughed also; the free-thinking philosophers had been at +him already, first in Rome, then in Paris.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Good for you, Elcho,' he cried; then, musing, ''Tis a very awkward +business, this of religion. We have given three crowns for a mass, and +there's the difficulty, there it is, as black as ever. I wish some one +would invent a new creed, and the rest agree about it, d----n them, +and then what is still to seek, my religion, would be found.'</p> + +<p class="normal">A thought came into Wogan's head; the bottle had made rounds enough, +and more; next morning they were to march early.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir,' he said, 'there <i>is</i> a new religion, and a handsome lady to +preach it.' Then he repeated what his host, the cobbler, had chanted +to him, 'The meeting is at night in the warehouse of Mr. Brown, the +eminent grocer.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'A handsome woman!--a new belief! By St. Andrew, I'll go,' cried +Charles. 'You'll come, Nick, you and--' he looked at the faces looming +through the tobacco smoke round the wine-stained table. The blue reek +of pipes clouded and clung to men's faces; to the red rough beard of +Lochgarry, the smart, clean-shaven Ker of Graden and Maxwell of +Kirkconnell, the hardy gaze of brave Balmerino, the fated Duke of +Perth. Wogan thought of the Highland belief in the shroud of mist that +is seen swathing men doomed soon to die, as were so many of them. The +Prince stood and stared, his pipe in his hand. 'Nick, you will come, +you and Ker of Graden; he's sober! <i>Allons!</i>'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Sir,' whispered Mr. Murray of Broughton, 'think of the danger! The +Elector has his assassins everywhere; they are taken; your Royal +Highness laughs and lets them go, and the troops murmur.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Danger! Will they look for me at a tub-thumping match?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Prince picked up a cork from the floor; he set it to the flame of +a candle; he touched with it his eyebrows and upper lip; he tucked his +brown hair under his wig, standing before the mirror on the +chimneypiece. Then he flung a horseman's cloak over his shoulders, +stooped, and limped a little in his walk.</p> + +<p class="normal">'A miracle,' everyone called out, for scarce a man of them could have +known him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He tossed his hand in the air; '<i>Allons, en avant!</i>' he cried, with a +laugh; and Wogan, with Ker of Graden, did what all might have better +done at Derby--followed their leader.</p> + +<p class="normal">The night was wintry, and a cold north wind blew about the rare +flickering oil lamps in the street. All three men buttoned themselves +up in their cloaks. The Prince, still stooping and limping, took an +arm of each of his aides-de-camp; indeed, he somewhat needed their +support.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am like that Sultan in Monsieur Galland's Eastern tales,' he said, +'visiting my subjects incognito. Nick, you are Mesrour, the Chief of +the--no, you're Giaffar. Graden is--I forget the Eastern minister's +name. I am the Caliph. But what are the rabble about?'</p> + +<p class="normal">The three pilgrims had entered the lane that led to the warehouse of +the devout grocer. There was a mob around the door waving torches and +shouting insults at a few decent tradesmen and their wives who were +bent on the same pious errand as Wogan and his friends.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Away, swaddlers!' 'Down with the Methodists!' they cried; and a burly +fellow brushed against Wogan's shoulder in the least gentlemanly +style. He reeled off and fell flat in the lane, while the other +ragamuffins laughed at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The three devotees stepped briskly through the grinning crowd that +cried to Graden, 'Come to buy brimstone, Scotch Sandy?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Come to escape it, my dear friend,' quoth Wogan's host, the cobbler, +who stood at the door, and kept it, too, against the mob with a great +show of spirit.</p> + +<p class="normal">'You <i>have</i> thought of us, sir?' asked the cobbler.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ay, and brought two other inquiring spirits,' said Wogan.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were conducted into a long half-empty warehouse, smelling of +cheese and festooned with cobwebs. A light or two burned dimly in horn +lanterns; a low platform of new planks had been set up at the top of +the room; a table with seven candles made an illumination there; a big +black Bible, and a jug of water with a glass flanked the Bible. The +preacher sat on a chair (most of the congregation stood, or reposed on +barrels and benches), and on another chair, beside the preacher, was a +lady, veiled, her fine figure obscured by widow's weeds.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Is that your beauty?' whispered the Prince.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Elect Lady, sir,' murmured the cobbler devoutly.</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Mon Dieu!</i> she has a very pretty foot!'</p> + +<p class="normal">And Wogan, too, noticed the blaze of a diamond buckle that nearly +covered the little arched instep. Tap, tap! went the Elect Lady's +foot, thrust out in front of her heavy petticoat of crape.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The lady is travelling everywhere, for the good of souls, gentlemen, +with Mr. Wesley's friend and choice disciple, the preacher, Mr. +Bunton.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'L'heureux Monsieur Bunton! Quelle chance!' quoth his Highness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Bunton, the preacher, was indeed a fine, handsome young fellow as +any widow could wish to look upon. He wore lay dress, not being a +priest ordained of the Church of England. As for the congregation, +they were small trading people, not rabble; indeed, the mob outside +broke most of the windows during the sermon, that was interrupted, not +only by the pebbles of the ragamuffins, but by the antics of the +congregation.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Bunton, after a hymn had been sung without any music, began his +preaching. He assured the audience that none of them could be a gayer +dog than he had been, that was now a shining light. He obliged the +congregation with a history of his early life and adventures, which +Wogan now tells in few words, that people may know what manner of men +were certain of these saints, or had been. Mr. Bunton was reared in +sin, he said, as a land-surveyor. A broth of a boy he was, and nine +times his parents sent him from Reading to London to bind him to a +trade. Nine times his masters returned him on their hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">Here the audience groaned aloud, and one went off in a fit. Mr. Bunton +then told how he was awakened to sin as he walked in Cheapside. At +this many, and the cobbler among them, cried 'Hallelujah!' but some +went off into uncontrollable fits of laughter, which did not disturb +the gravity of the rest of the assembly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The preacher's confession was, indeed, of such a nature that Wogan let +a laugh out of himself, while Graden and the Prince rolled in extreme +convulsions.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Go on, gentlemen; you are in the right path,' said the cobbler. 'Our +converts are generally taken in this way first. It is reckoned a very +favourable sign of grace. Some laugh for a week without stopping to +sleep, eat, or drink.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'I'll try to stop to drink,' hooted his Highness, his face as red as a +lobster; and then off he went again, the bench shaking beneath him, +while Wogan and Graden laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks in +their dark corner. The sympathetic cobbler murmured texts of an +appropriate character. Indeed, now he thinks of it all, and sees Mr. +Bunton sawing the air while he tells the story of his early wicked +days, Mr. Wogan laughs as he writes. The man was greasy and radiant +with satisfied vanity. His narrative of what he did and thought after +he awoke to sin in Cheapside was a marvel.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I felt that beef and mutton were sinful things.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here came a groan from an inquiring butcher.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I wished to put away all that was of the flesh fleshy. My desire was +to dwell alone, in a cave, far from the sight of woman.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Elect Lady groaned, and all the wenches in the congregation +followed suit.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Abstaining from feasts of fat things, my mind was set on a simple +diet of acorns, grass, and crabs.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Les glands, les écrevisses, et l'herbe des champs!' hooted the +Prince. 'Mon Dieu, quel souper, et quelle digestion il doit avoir, cet +homme-là!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But, sisters and brethren,' Mr. Bunton went on, 'did I yield to these +popish temptations? Did I live, like one of their self-righteous +so-called saints, on crabs, acorns, and grass? Did I retire to a cave? +No, dear sisters and brethren. My motive for abstaining was bad; it +was a suggestion of the Old Man--'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Qui donc est-il, ce vieillard bien pensant?' whispered the Prince.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The devil, sir,' answered Graden, who knew the doctrine of the Scotch +ministers.</p> + +<p class="normal">'My motive for not living on crabs in a cave was bad, I confess, but +it was over-ruled for the best. Dear friends, I kept myself far from +these temptations, because, indeed, I was afraid of ghosts that haunt +caves and such places.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Il ne mangeait pas les écrevisses, parce qu'il avait peur des +revenants! O c'est trop!' said the Prince, in a voice choked with +emotion, while more advanced disciples cried 'Glory!' and +'Hallelujah!'</p> + +<p class="normal">'But next,' the preacher went on, much gratified and encouraged by +these demonstrations, 'I was happily brought acquainted with that +precious sister, that incomparable disciple of Mr. Wesley, whom we +call the Elect Lady. Then I awoke to light, and saw that it was laid +upon me to preach, continually and unceasingly, making in every town +confession of my offences. That dear lady, friends, promises for this +once (she is as modest as she is generous and good) to tell us the +moving story of her own early dangers, while she was a dweller in the +tents of--of Shem, I think.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The congregation cheered and stamped with their feet, all but a few +who were rolling on the floor in fits and foaming at the mouth. Mr. +Bunton sat down very warm, and applied himself to the mug of water.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Elect Lady rose up to her full height, and tossed back her veil +over her shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Ah, nous sommes trompés,' said the Prince. 'C'est une femme de +quarante ans, bien sonnés!'</p> + +<p class="normal">But Wogan, between the shoulders of the congregation, stared from his +dim corner as he had never stared at mortal woman before. The delicate +features were thickened, alas, the lips had fallen in, the gold +threads had been unwoven out of the dark brown hair. There were two +dabs of red on a powdered face, where in time past the natural roses +and lilies had bloomed; but the voice and the little Andalusian foot +that beat the time with the Elect Lady's periods were the voice and +the foot of the once incomparable Smilinda! Nay, when she turned and +looked at the converted land-surveyor beside her, Mr. Wogan knew in her +gaze the ghost of the glance that had bewitched Scrope, and Kelly, and +Colonel Montague, and Lord Sidney Beauclerk, and who knows how many +other gallants? In that odd place Wogan felt a black fit of the +spleen. A woman's loss of beauty,--Wogan can never think of it +unmoved. What tragedy that we men endure or enact is like this?</p> + +<p class="normal">But her ladyship spoke, and she spoke very well. The congregation, all +of them that were not in fits or in laughing hysterics, listened as if +to an angel. Heavens! what a story she told of her youth! What dangers +encountered! What plots prepared against her virtue, ay, by splendid +soldiers, beautiful young lords, and even clergymen; above all, by one +monster whom she had discovered to be, not only a monster, but a +traitor to the King, and an agent of the Pretender. She was a young +thing then, married to an old lord, all unprotected, on every side +beset by flattery.</p> + +<p class="normal">The congregation groaned and swayed at the picture of man's depravity, +but Wogan, his spleen quite forgotten, was chuckling with delight.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet, all unawakened as she was, said this penitent, an unknown +influence had ever shielded her. She remembered how one of these evil +ones, the clergyman, after kneeling vainly at her feet, had cried, +'Sure, some invisible power protects your ladyship.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Here the groans gave place to cries of praise, arms were lifted, the +simple, good people wept. Wogan listened with a less devotional air, +bending forward on his bench, and rubbing his hands for joy. In truth +it had just come upon him that it was his duty to stand up when the +Elect Lady sat down, and bear his witness to the truth of her +narrative.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Not to her be the triumph,' she went on, 'all unawakened as she then +was, and remained, till she heard Mr. Wesley preach,' and thereafter +went through the world with Brother Bunton, converting land-surveyors, +colliers, and others.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan does not care to remember or quote any more of this lady's +pieties. They had a kind of warmth and ease of familiarity which, in +sacred things, are not to his liking. However, when she ceased, Mr. +Wogan stood up, a tall figure of a French officer with an empty sleeve +in his dim corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Good people,' he said; 'in my heedless youth I had the honour to be +of the acquaintance of this lady who has just spoken to you.'</p> + +<p class="normal">The Elect Lady glanced at Wogan; she gave a strange, short cry, and +the black veil swept over her face again.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I was,' Wogan went on, 'the eye-witness of these trials to which her +Ladyship's virtue was exposed by the wicked ones of whose company I +was a careless partaker. I have heard that wicked minister say that +some invisible power protected her Ladyship. If any testimony to the +truth of her ladyship's moving tale were needed I could bear that +evidence, as could my friend the Rev. Mr. Kelly, now in France with +despatches, and also General Montague, at present serving with +Field-Marshal Wade, in the neighbourhood of Newcastle.'</p> + +<p class="normal">Wogan sat down.</p> + +<p class="normal">'That was providential indeed,' said the cobbler; and all the +congregation bawled 'Miracle.' But the Elect Lady sat still, her face +in her hands, like a Niobe in black bombazine.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the confusion, the three inquirers from the Prince's army slipped +modestly out. A heavy shower of snow had swept the rabble out of the +lane. All was dark and cold, after the reek of the crowded warehouse.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Nick,' said the Prince, 'was that story all true? Was the Elect Lady +a prude?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'It is Mr. Kelly's story, sir,' said Wogan. Your Royal Highness can +ask him.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'George was her adorer? Then George shall tell me the tale over a +bottle. How the cold strikes! Hey, for a bowl of punch!' cried the +Prince.</p> + +<p class="normal">'I am at your commands, sir, but may I say that it is one of the +morning, and the pipes play the reveillé at four?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'To quarters, then! What is the word, damme? What is the word?'</p> + +<p class="normal">'<i>Slaint an Righ</i>, sir.'</p> + +<p class="normal">'Slaint an Righ? I never can get my tongue about it. Oh, if our +subjects had but one language and one religion! But it shall not be +the religion of Mr. Bunton. <i>Bon soir!</i>'</p> + +<p class="normal">'You have taken every trick, Wogan!' said Graden, as the Prince +entered his inn. 'A sober night, for once, before a long day's march.'</p> + + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * * * * * *</p> + + +<p class="normal">Next morning the army went south, to Derby, and then (by no fault of +the Irish officers or of their Prince) came back again. Wogan was at +Falkirk, Culloden, and Ruthven, woe worth the day! How he reached +France when all was over, is between him and a very beautiful young +lady of Badenoch; she said she bore a king's name--Miss Helen +Macwilliam. Of King Macwilliam Wogan hath never heard, but the young +lady (whose brothers had taken to the heather) protected Wogan in his +distress, tended his wound, hid him from the red-coat soldiers, and at +last secured for him a passage in a vessel from Montrose.</p> + +<p class="normal">And for all souvenir, she kept the kerchief with which she had first +bound up the bayonet-stab that Wogan came by, when he, with the +Stewarts, broke through Barrel's regiment at Culloden. He writes this +at Avignon, where George and his wife also dwell, in the old house +with the garden, the roses, and the noisy, pretty children that +haunted Mr. Kelly's dreams when he was young.</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_01" href="#div2Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: Sophia, a nickname of the <i>Duke</i> of Wharton.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Parson Kelly, by +A. E. W. 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