Cardigan

Impatience was racking me now; I waited until I could wait no longer; then, in the shadow of the trellis-vines, I stole up to the porch. The hallway was empty; I stepped to the sill, crossed it, and surveyed the empty stairway and the gallery above. There was not a soul in sight. Now alarm seized me, a swift, overpowering dread which drove me on to seek and face whatever was in store for me. A door on my right stood open; I looked in, then entered the smaller of two rooms, which were partly separated from each other by folding doors. Candles burned in gilt sconces; glass cabinets glittered; mirrors reflected my full length so abruptly that I started at the apparitions and clutched my hunting-knife.

Treading on the velvet carpet I passed into the farther apartment which, by a little gallery and waxed floor, I knew to be the ballroom. Not a soul to be seen anywhere. Glancing hurriedly at the empty ranks of gilded chairs, I strove to crush out the fear which was laying icy fingers on my breast, and I had already turned to re-enter the smaller room when I heard the front door close and voices sounding along the outer hallway. I stepped behind a gilt cabinet and drew my heavy knife, perfectly aware that I was trapped like a fox in a snap-box.

Through the carved foliage of the cabinet I saw three people enter the room. The skin all over my body roughened at the sight of them; and what held me back I do not know – perhaps that kind Providence which watches over fools – for I began to tremble in every contracting muscle as do cats in ambush when their quarry passes unsuspecting.

There they stood in low-voiced consultation – Lady Shelton, my Lord Dunmore, and my mortal enemy, Walter Butler, tricked out in lace and velvet. He stood so near to me that my hot hand could have fastened on his throat-strings where I crouched. He turned towards Dunmore with a gesture.

"Sir Timerson should find them to-night," he said; "your thief-taker, Bully Bishop, is with them, I understand."

"They are to search every rebel rat-hole in town," cried Dunmore, eagerly; "they should claw them ere dawn, Captain Butler. Vive Dieu, nous allons les clouer en terrain bouché!"

Lord Dunmore leered at Lady Shelton, and then contemplated his small French hat as though seeking countenance for his halting tongue.

"If I am to conduct Miss Warren," said Butler, gloomily, "you had best see her without delay, my Lord."

His round, amber eyes of a bird were fixed on Dunmore.

"Come now," said Dunmore, slyly, "I am half minded to conduct her myself, Captain Butler, curse me if I am not. I hear you once vowed to wed her in spite of Sir William and me too! Damme, I've a notion you mean me ill, you rogue!"

"Your Lordship is merry," sneered Butler, but I saw his blank eyes contracting as he spoke.

"Faith, I am not over-merry," said Dunmore, plaintively, drawing a diamond pin from his wig and contemplating it. "I like not this night journey to Williamsburg, that's flat! – and I care not if you know it, Captain Butler."

"Then I pray you to release me from this duty," sneered Butler.

Dunmore eyed him askance, twirling his jewelled pin.

"If I merit your suspicions," added Butler, icily, "I beg to wish you good fortune and good-night!" And he bowed very low and turned curtly towards the door.

"No! Damme if I suspect you!" cried Dunmore, hastily. "Come back, Captain Butler! Oh tally, man! – is there no wit in you that you freeze at a jest from an over-fond suitor? You shall conduct Miss Warren to Williamsburg. I say it! I mean it! Body o' Judas! am I not to follow as soon as I hang this fellow Mount and his rabble o' ragged pottle-pots?"

Butler came back, and – oh, the evil in his fixed stare as his kindling eyes fastened on Dunmore again!

"Will you be pleased – to – to receive Miss Warren immediately?" asked Lady Shelton, in a flutter of jellyfied excitement. "I have her closely watched wherever she takes a step. She has her boxes packed, the wilful child! Lud! she would have been gone these two hours had not Captain Butler's man caught my footman with a guinea!"

"I have a copy of her letter," squeaked Dunmore, angrily. "Faith, I could scratch her raw for what she wrote to that dirty forest-running fellow, Cardigan!"

"Fie! Fie!" tittered Lady Shelton, hysterically, shaking a fat finger at the painted beau. "Over-fond lovers should forgive!"

"Curse me if I forget, though," muttered his Lordship. "If I have to wait till Innocents' day, I'll birch the little baggage yet!"

He turned nervously to Butler:

"You had best attend in the ballroom, Captain Butler. Gad! I can persuade her, I think, within the half-hour. Lady Shelton, you will be in one of your cursed twitters if you remain here, and those same twitters set me dancing. Damme, madam! you are twittering now! I sha'n't endure it! I can't endure it! Pluck me bald if I can!"

"I – I will send her to you," stammered the dowager, curtseying in a panic.

"And stay away until you're wanted," added Dunmore, brutally.

Lady Shelton stared at him with frightened eyes; then her little fat feet set themselves in motion, and she pattered hastily out of the room. The men exchanged sneers.

"I'll be rid o' that ruddled sack o' lollypops now," observed Lord Dunmore, complacently. "Will you not take your turn, Captain Butler? No? Well, I owe thanks to Sir Timerson then. Pst! There's some one on the stairs! Give me joy, Captain Butler, and mind you keep closed eyes, you rogue!"

Butler gave him a contemptuous stare, then swung on his heel, and balancing his thin hand on the hilt of his small-sword, walked noiselessly into the dim ballroom.

Dunmore stood listening, passing the diamond pin back through his wig, and shaking out the long, delicate lace on his cuffs.

Nobody came. He raised his spy-glass and tiptoed over to the mirror, primping, preening, smirking, and ogling himself, occasionally turning his good ear to the door to listen.

Presently he began to pace the velvet, fanning his nose with a lace handkerchief, and simpering all to himself.

The extravagance of his dress might have amused me had not my mind been filled with deadly thoughts. He was all in yellow, silk coat, and silver-shot waistcoat, with breeches of gold brocade and white silk stockings. Lace tumbled in soft cascades over his claw-like fingers; a white sash and star, set with brilliants, covered his breast; a gorgeous stock glittered under the fluffy lace at his withered throat.

I noted these features, one by one, but my thoughts had flown up-stairs to seek throughout this shameful house for the dear maid who had given herself to me.

Suddenly she appeared at the door, so suddenly that Lord Dunmore started from the mirror with a suppressed squeal of surprise. As for me, I quivered in my lurking-place, and for a moment could scarce see her for the mist in my eyes.

Yet there she stood, hesitating, smiling, her hands busy with the buckle of a travelling-coat adorned with row on row of dainty capes. Under the silvery gray coat I could see her little doe-skin shoon peeping out. Now, with gloved hands, she began widening the hood on her head, to tie it beneath her chin, with a sidelong glance at the mirror and a faint smile for her mirrored face.

Never, never had I seen her so lovely, never had her eyes so thrilled me, nor her sweet, dumb lips called to me more clearly. For a moment I thought she had perceived me through the cabinet's gilded foliage; but my presence was still all unsuspected.

At first sight of her hood and travelling-coat, Lord Dunmore had scowled. Then, fascinated, he pretended to a trance and clasped his hands, rolling his rheumy eyes towards heaven. Seeing her face fall, however, he recovered quickly enough and leered at her from head to toe.

"Cruel one," he piped out in ecstasy, mincing towards her. "Cruel one, what do you ask that I may adore?"

"Your Lordship's pardon," she said, gravely; "I am here to ask forgiveness."

"Granted! You have it," protested Dunmore, eagerly, leading her to a chair and bowing above her as she was seated. "You have grieved me, but man was made to grieve. I forgive, and give my love as guerdon."

"You are too generous," said Silver Heels, sorrowfully; "I may keep only your forgiveness, my Lord."

She would have spoken again, but Dunmore bent his stiff joints and dropped on both knees, ogling her with watery eyes.

She half rose and drew back with a pleading gesture, but the infatuated fool drowned her protests with his shrill prattle, and clasping his transparent hands together under the lace, pleaded his suit so passionately that my gorge rose and I could scarce contain myself.

At last his chatter died away in miscellaneous noises, sniffs, gulps, and senile sounds; and he tried to seize her gloved hand, making a clacking smack with his thin, dry lips.

Silver Heels shrank deep into her chair, hiding her hands from him under her chin, and begging him to rise, which he did at last, scowling his displeasure.

Then, very gravely and pitifully, she told him that she did not love him, that she had given her love to another, and that she could now only ask his forgiveness, yet never forgive herself for the wickedness she had so wilfully practised.

He stood listening in silence at first, then his faded eyes narrowed with fury, and in his worn cheeks, under the rouge, a sickly colour stained the flesh. The change in the man was frightful.

"D'ye mean to throw me over for that wood-running whelp, Cardigan?" he burst out. "Oh no, my lady, that cock won't fight, d'ye hear?"

The startling coarseness of the outbreak brought Silver Heels to her feet in frightened astonishment. Horror mantled throat and cheeks with crimson; she shrank back, catching support on a marble table beside her.

All over Dunmore's scowling visage the enamel was cracking; he paced the carpet like one demented, chattering and scratching at the air.