THE SECRET
All these things were told me by Molly herself in the afternoon. You
may very well believe that my heart was sick and sore to think of
Molly being thus thrown away for a bribe of rank and position upon a
man who seemed to be of marble or of ice. For of one thing concerning
women I am very certain, that to make them happy they must be loved.
At the time I could not know, nor did I suspect, that this noble earl
was marrying Molly for her fortune. Like the captain, I pictured him
as one lifted above the common lot and apart from all temptations as
regards money, by his own great possessions. Why, he had
nothing--nothing at all. So much I know--he had wasted and dissipated
the whole. There was nothing left, and his marriage, especially his
private and hurried manner of it, was designed wholly to give him the
possession and the control of Molly's riches.
"To-morrow, then, we lose you, Molly."
"To-morrow, Jack. His lordship consents that whenever, if ever, I am
within an easy journey of Lynn I may come back to see my mother. But
when will that be? Alas! I know not. Gloucestershire is on the other
side of the country."
"After all, Molly, there are many wives who thus go away with their
husbands and never see their own folk any more. They forget them; they
find their happiness with the home and the children. Why, my dear, in
a year or two, when you have grown accustomed to your state and the
condition of a great lady, you will forget Lynn and the old friends."
"Never, Jack, never. You might as well expect me to forget the days
when we were children together and played about the Lady's Mount and
on the walls, and rowed our dingey in the river. Forget my own folks?
Jack, am I a monster?"
"Nay, but, Molly, all I want is to see you happy. Remember us if you
will, and remember that we are all, the captain, and your mother and
your faithful black and myself, daily praying for your welfare."
So we talked. It was agreed between us that a private wedding was,
under the circumstances, much more convenient than a public one, with
all the display and feasting in which Lord Fylingdale could not take
part. I could not but think the business too much hurried and too
secret. As for other reasons, especially the absence of any
settlements which would protect the wife, I had no knowledge of such
things, and therefore no suspicion.
I bade her farewell--the last time I should see her in private and
converse with her as of old--and with tears, we kissed and parted. But
there was no question of love or of disappointment. We were like
brother and sister who were separated after growing up together. And
so I kissed her and said no more than "Oh! Molly, if you had no money,
we should not lose you," and she replied with a sigh and more tears,
"And if I had no money, Jack, I should not have to leave my own people
and go among strangers who will not welcome me, or love me, or give me
even their friendliness."
I left her, and walked away. I was too downhearted to stay ashore; I
would go aboard and sit alone in the captain's cabin. There is nothing
so lonely as a ship without her crew. If a man in these days desires
to become a hermit, he should take up his quarters in one of the old
hulks that lie in every harbour, deserted even by the rats, who swim
away when the provisions are all gone. It is lonely by day, and it is
ghostly by night. For then the old ship is visited by the sailors who
have sailed in her and have died in her. In every ship there have been
many who die of disease or by accident, or fall overboard and are
drowned. These are the visitors to the hulk at night. Every sailor
knows this, and has seen them. I wanted to be alone, I say, therefore,
I thought I would go on board and stay there.
Now, on my way across the market-place, there came running after me a
man, who called me by name. "Mr. Pentecrosse--Mr. Pentecrosse," and,
looking round, I saw that it was the Lady Anastasia's footman, in the
green and gold livery--a very line person indeed, to look at, much
finer than myself in my workaday clothes. "Sir," he said "my mistress,
Lady Anastasia, desires speech with you. Will you kindly follow me to
her lodging?"
I obeyed. What did the lady wish to say to me?
She was in her parlour, half dressed in what they call, I believe, a
dishabille. She nodded to the footman, who closed the door and left us
alone.
"Mr. Pentecrosse," she said graciously, "this is the second time I
have sent for you. Yet I gave you permission to call upon me often. Is
this the politeness of a sailor? Never mind; I forgive you, because
Molly loves you and you love Molly."
"Madam," I replied, "it is true that I love Molly, but I have no
longer any right to love her except as one who would call himself, if
he could, her brother."
"So I wanted, Mr. Pentecrosse--may I say Jack?--to learn your
sentiments about this affair. I am, of course, in the confidence of
Lord Fylingdale. I believe that I know all his secrets--or, at least,
as many as a man chooses to tell a woman. You men have all got your
secret cupboards, and you lock the door and keep the key. Say,
therefore, rather, most of my lord's secrets."
"What affairs, madam, do you mean?" I remembered that the business of
the betrothal was a secret. "What affairs?"
"Why ask--the affair between his lordship and Molly, of course. Shall
I prove to you that I know all about it?"
"You can do better, madam, you can tell me what the affair is."
"Oh! Jack, you act very badly. Never, my dear young man, go upon the
stage. Of course, you know Molly has no secrets from you. Listen,
then.
"On the first night when Molly and you distinguished yourselves in the
minuet--never blush, Jack, a British sailor should always show that he
knows no fear--Lord Fylingdale administered a public rebuke to the
company for their rudeness. He showed thereby that he was already
interested in the girl. He then paid attention to the old captain,
whose simplicity and honesty are charming. I need not point out to
you, Jack, that the good old man became like wax in his lordship's
hands. He even revealed his ambition of finding an alliance for the
girl with some noble house or sprig of quality, attracted by the
report of her fortune. He was also simple enough to imagine that any
young nobleman, a younger son, who would take a girl for her money,
must needs be a miracle of virtue, and beyond all considerations of
money. So far I am quite correct, I believe."
"Your ladyship is quite correct, so far." In fact, the captain's
ambitions were the common theme of ridicule in the pump room and in
the gardens.
"He then came to see me, and engaged me as an old friend and one fully
acquainted with his qualities----"
"Virtues, you mean, madam."
"Qualities, I said--to make myself a friend of the fair Molly. This I
did. She showed me the amazing collection of jewels which she
possesses, and I gave her advice on certain points. She came here and
I taught her something of the fashions in dress, carriage, and
behaviour. She is an apt pupil, but lacking in respect for the manners
of the polite world. I then find my lord entering into further
confidential discourse with the captain. He even went on board your
ship, and was by you escorted over the whole vessel. He took so great
an interest in everything that you were surprised, and at parting he
drank a glass of wine to the health of the fair Molly."
"Quite true." I suppose that the captain had told Molly, who told Lady
Anastasia.
"Very well. You see that I know something. But there is a great deal
more. At the next assembly, where Molly went with me, having been
dressed by my own maid in better taste, and without the barbaric
splendour of so many gold chains and precious stones, Lord Fylingdale
took her out before all the ladies--the Norfolk ladies being more than
commonly observant of pedigree and lineage--and danced the first
minuet with her and the first of the country dances. What was this, I
ask you, but an open proclamation to the world that he was in love
with this girl--the daughter of a town full of sailors? So, at least,
it was interpreted, I hear, by some of the company. Others, out of
sheer jealousy and envy, would not so acknowledge the action."
"It was not so interpreted by the captain nor by Molly herself."
"Tut, tut" (she rapped my fingers smartly with her fan), "what
signifies their opinion? As if they know anything of the meaning of
things, even when they are done in broad daylight, so to speak, and in
presence of all the fashion in the place. Why, Jack, there was not a
girl in the town, who, if such an honour had been done to her, would
not have gone home that evening to see in the looking-glass a coronet
already on her head.
"And then came the conclusion. Oh, the beautiful conclusion! The
romantic conclusion when that misguided young gentleman called Tom
Rising endeavoured to carry her off. 'Twas a gallant attempt, and
would have succeeded, I doubt not----"
"Madam, with submission--you know not Molly."
"I know my own sex, Jack--and I know that a man is never liked the
less for showing courage. However, Lord Fylingdale took the matter
into his own hands--rode after her--fought the unlucky Tom and brought
back the lady. I am still, I believe, correct."
"You are quite correct, madam, so far as I know."
"The next day Lord Fylingdale called at the captain's house to inquire
after the lady's health. He saw the captain; he saw the lady herself,
who was none the worse, but rather much the better for the excitement
of the adventure and the delightful sight of two gentlemen trying to
kill each other for her sake. He also saw the lady's mother, who came
out of the kitchen, her red arms white with dough and flour, to
receive the noble lord. Her lively sallies only made him the more
madly in love with the girl."
How had she learned all this? I cannot tell. But ladies of wealth can
always, I believe, find out things, and servants know what goes on.
Lady Anastasia continued her narrative. "Next day my lord sent his
secretary, Mr. Semple, as an ambassador to the captain. He was
instructed to ask formally the hand of the captain's ward in the name
of his master. This he did, the captain not being able to disguise his
joy and pride at this most unexpected honour. Now, sir, you perceive
that I do know the secrets of that young lady. This morning he has
again visited the house, and he received the consent--no doubt it was
with disguised joy--of the lady herself. And you have just come from
her. She has told you of her fine lover and of her engagement."
I made no reply.
"I will tell you more. My lord desires a private marriage and a
marriage very soon. Ha! Do I surprise you?"
"Madam, I perceive that he has told you all. You are quite right. The
wedding, as you know, is to be in St. Nicholas Church to-morrow
morning at six before the better sort have left their beds. And in
order not to be recognised by any of the people, Molly will wear a
domino and her pink silk cloak."
She nodded her head. And she hid her face with her fan, saying nothing
for a space. When she spoke her voice was harsh.
"That is the arrangement. You have understood it perfectly. Well,
Jack, it is a very pretty business, is it not? Here is a young
man--only thirty, as yet--with a fine old title, an ancient name, and
an ancient estate--who is bound by all the rules of his order to marry
only within his own caste. He breaks all the rules; he marries a girl
who is not even a gentlewoman; who belongs to the most homely folk
possible. What kind of happiness do you think is likely to follow on
such a marriage? You who are not altogether a fool, though you are
ignorant of the ways, are the right man to marry Molly. She
understands you and what you like, and how you think. Believe me, she
can never be happy with this nobleman. Sailor man, you do not
understand what it means to be a great man and a nobleman in this
country. From his infancy the heir must have what he wants and must do
as he pleases. No one is to check his fine flow of spirits; he must
believe that the whole world is made for his amusement, and that
everything in the world is made for him to devour and to destroy. When
such a child becomes a man, what can you expect? He wants no friends,
because friendships among people like yourself are based on mutual
help, and he wants no help. Companions he must have; young men like
himself. He need never do any kind of work. Consequently, his mind is
never occupied. He has no serious pursuits; therefore, of simple
amusements he soon tires. Can such a man be unselfish? Can such a man
lead a quiet and domestic life? He will rake; he will gamble; he will
drink; there is nothing else for him. These will form his life. If he
now and then tosses a guinea to some poor wretch, it is counted as an
act of the highest charity. The most virtuous of noblemen may also be
the most profligate."
"Is this what one is to think of Lord Fylingdale?"
"Think what you please, Jack. Should you, however, hear that the
marriage was forbidden, what should you say?"
"Forbidden? The marriage forbidden? But how? Why? It is to take place
to-morrow."
"I don't know. Answer my question."
"Madam, I cannot answer it. If it is true that Lord Fylingdale is the
kind of gentleman whose character you have drawn, there is nothing I
should more rejoice to see. If, however----"
"You may go, Jack. You may go. I dare say something is going to happen
to-morrow, at six in the morning, at St. Nicholas Church. Yes,
something will probably happen. The bride will be recognised by her
black domino and her pink silk cloak. Thank you, Jack. You are a very
simple young man; as simple as you are honest, and a woman can turn
you round her finger."
I went away wondering. I did not understand, being as she said, so
simple that I had myself actually given her the information that she
desired. I have since learned that the passion of jealousy and nothing
else filled her soul and inspired all this reading of Lord
Fylingdale's actions. In his conduct at the assembly she saw the
beginning of his passion; his own explanation that he wanted to get
her money only made her more jealous, because, although she fully
believed that statement, she saw no way of getting at the fortune
without marrying the girl. As for his visits to the house, I suppose
that she simply caused him to be watched and followed, while her maid,
who played the spy for her, could from a certain point in the road
look into the parlour when the window was thrown open. It was easy for
such a jealous woman to surmise the truth; to jump at the conclusion
that, in spite of all his protestations, Lord Fylingdale had come to
the conclusion that he must marry the girl; that his rescue made her
grateful and filled her with admiration for his courage; that he sent
his secretary to open the business, and that he followed up this
message by a formal visit from himself when he placed the lady in a
chair at the window and bent over her and kissed her hand.
This was not all. When he told Lady Anastasia that he had no further
occasion for her services, and that she had better go back to London
at once all her jealousy flared up. She thus divined, at once, that
she was to be sent out of the way, so that when she next met him some
of the business might have blown over and she herself might be less
indignant at his treatment of her.
However, something, she said, was going to happen. What would happen?
For my own part, I was restless and uneasy. What would happen? Had I
known more about the wrath of a jealous woman I should have been more
uneasy. Something was going to happen; could I go to the captain and
warn him as to the character of the lover? Why, I knew nothing. All
that talk about the heir to rank and riches meant nothing except to
show the dangers of such a position. A man so born, so brought up,
must of necessity be more tempted than other men in the direction of
selfishness, indulgence, luxury, laziness, and want of consideration
for others. It is surely a great misfortune to be born rich, if one
would only think so. The common lot is best, with the necessity of
work. All Molly's misfortunes came from that money of hers. Her father
very wisely concealed from his wife the full extent of his wealth, so
that she remained in her homely ways, and the captain also concealed
from Molly until she grew up, the nature of her fortune. Why could he
not conceal it altogether from the world? Then--but it is useless to
think what would have happened. Most of our lives are made up with
mending the troubles made by our own sins or our own follies. Poor
Molly was about to suffer from her father's sin in having so much
worldly wealth.