_PROEM:--To be Filed for Reference Hereafter_
Lady Allonby followed in all respects the Vicar's instructions; and
midnight found her upon the pier of Bishops Onslow, Colonel Denstroude's
big and dilapidated country-residence. Frank Orts had assisted her from the
rowboat without speaking; indeed, he had uttered scarcely a word, save to
issue some necessary direction, since the woman first came to him at the
Vicarage with her news of the night's events. Now he composedly stepped
back into the boat.
"You've only to go forward," said Frank Orts. "I regret that for my own
part I'm no longer an acceptable visitor here, since the Colonel and I
fought last summer over one Molly Yates. Nay, I beseech you, put up your
purse, my Lady."
"Then I can but render you my heartfelt thanks," replied Lady Allonby, "and
incessantly remember you in daily prayers for the two gallant men who have
this night saved a woman from great misery. Yet there is that in your voice
which is curiously familiar, Mr. Orts, and I think that somewhere you and I
have met before this."
"Ay," he responded, "you have squandered many a shilling on me here in
England, where Francis Vanringham bellows and makes faces with the rest of
the Globe Company. On Usk, you understand, I'm still Frank Orts, just as I
was christened; but elsewhere the name of Vanringham was long ago esteemed
more apt to embellish and adorn the bill of a heroic play. Ay, you've been
pleased to applaud my grimaces behind the footlights, more than once; your
mother-in-law, indeed, the revered Marchioness-Dowager of Falmouth, is
among my staunchest patrons."
"Heavens! then we shall all again see one another at Tunbridge!" said Lady
Allonby, who was recovering her spirits; "and I shall have a Heaven-sent
opportunity, to confirm my protestations that I am not ungrateful. Mr.
Vanringham, I explicitly command you to open in _The Orphan_, since: as
Castalio in that piece you are the most elegant and moving thing in the
universal world." [Footnote: This was the opinion of others as well.
Thorsby (_Roscius Anglicanus_) says, "Mr. Vanringham was good in tragedy,
as well as in comedy, especially as Castalio in Otway's _Orphan_, and the
more famous Garrick came, in that part, far short of him." Vanringham was
also noted for his Valentine in _Love for Love_ and for his Beaugard in
_The Soldier's Fortune_.]
"Your command shall be obeyed," said the actor. "And meantime, my Lady,
I bid you an _au revoir_, with many millions of regrets for the
inconveniences to which you've been subjected this evening, Oho, we are
lamentably rustic hereabout."
And afterward as he rowed through the dark the man gave a grunt of
dissatisfaction.
"I was too abrupt with her. But it vexes me to have Brother Simon butchered
like this.... These natural instincts are damnably inconvenient,--and
expensive, at times, Mr. Vanringham,--beside being ruinous to one's sense
of humor, Mr. Vanringham. Why, to think that she alone should go scot-free!
and of her ordering a stage-box within the hour of two men's destruction
on her account! Upon reflection, I admire the woman to the very tips of my
toes. Eh, well! I trust to have need of her gratitude before the month is
up."
I
Since Colonel Denstroude proved a profane and dissolute and helpful person,
Lady Allonby was shortly re-established in her villa at Tunbridge Wells, on
the Sussex side, where she had resolved to find a breathing-space prior to
the full season in London. And thereupon she put all thoughts of Usk quite
out of her mind: it had been an unhappy business, but it was over. In the
meanwhile her wardrobe needed replenishing now that spring was coming
in; the company at the Wells was gay enough; and Lady Allonby had always
sedulously avoided anything that was disagreeable.
Mr. Erwyn Lady Allonby was far from cataloguing under that head. Mr. George
Erwyn had been for years a major-general, at the very least, in Fashion's
army, and was concededly a connoisseur of all the elegancies.
Mr. Erwyn sighed as he ended his recital--half for pity of the misguided
folk who had afforded Tunbridge its latest scandal, half for relief that,
in spite of many difficulties, the story had been set forth in discreet
language which veiled, without at all causing you to miss, the more
unsavory details.
"And so," said he, "poor Harry is run through the lungs, and Mrs.
Anstruther has recovered her shape and is to be allowed a separate
maintenance."
"'Tis shocking!" said Lady Allonby.
"'Tis incredible," said Mr. Erwyn, "to my mind, at least, that the bonds of
matrimony should be slipped thus lightly. But the age is somewhat lax and
the world now views with complaisance the mad antics of half-grown lads and
wenches who trip toward the altar as carelessly as if the partnership were
for a country-dance."
Lady Allonby stirred her tea and said nothing. Notoriously her marriage had
been unhappy; and her two years of widowhood (dating from the unlamented
seizure, brought on by an inherited tendency to apoplexy and French
brandy, which carried off Lord Stephen Allonby of Prestonwoode) had to all
appearance never tempered her distrust of the matrimonial state. Certain it
was that she had refused many advantageous offers during this period, for
her jointure was considerable, and, though in candid moments she confessed
to thirty-three, her dearest friends could not question Lady Allonby's
good looks. She was used to say that she would never re-marry, because she
desired to devote herself to her step-daughter, but, as gossip had it at
Tunbridge, she was soon to be deprived of this subterfuge; for Miss Allonby
had reached her twentieth year, and was nowadays rarely seen in public save
in the company of Mr. Erwyn, who, it was generally conceded, stood high in
the girl's favor and was desirous of rounding off his career as a leader of
fashion with the approved comoedic _dénouement_ of marriage with a young
heiress.
For these reasons Lady Allonby heard with interest his feeling allusion to
the laxity of the age, and through a moment pondered thereon, for it seemed
now tolerably apparent that Mr. Erwyn had lingered, after the departure of
her other guests, in order to make a disclosure which Tunbridge had for
many months expected.
"I had not thought," said she, at length, "that you, of all men, would ever
cast a serious eye toward marriage. Indeed, Mr. Erwyn, you have loved women
so long that I must dispute your ability to love a woman--and your amours
have been a byword these twenty years."
"Dear lady," said Mr. Erwyn, "surely you would not confound amour with
love? Believe me, the translation is inadequate. Amour is but the summer
wave that lifts and glitters and laughs in the sunlight, and within the
instant disappears; but love is the unfathomed eternal sea itself. Or--to
shift the metaphor--Amour is a general under whom youth must serve:
Curiosity and Lustiness are his recruiting officers, and it is well to
fight under his colors, for it is against Ennui that he marshals his
forces. 'Tis a resplendent conflict, and young blood cannot but stir and
exult as paradoxes, marching and countermarching at the command of their
gay generalissimo, make way for one another in iridescent squadrons, while
through the steady musketry of epigram one hears the clash of contending
repartees, or the cry of a wailing sonnet. But this lord of laughter may be
served by the young alone; and by and by each veteran--scarred, it may be,
but not maimed, dear lady--is well content to relinquish the glory and
adventure of such colorful campaigns for some quiet inglenook, where, with
love to make a third, he prattles of past days and deeds with one that goes
hand in hand with him toward the tomb."
Lady Allonby accorded this conceit the tribute of a sigh; then glanced,
in the direction of four impassive footmen to make sure they were out of
earshot.
"And so--?" said she.
"Split me!" said Mr. Erwyn, "I thought you had noted it long ago."
"Indeed," she observed, reflectively, "I suppose it is quite time."
"I am not," said Mr. Erwyn, "in the heyday of my youth, I grant you; but
I am not for that reason necessarily unmoved by the attractions of an
advantageous person, a fine sensibility and all the graces."
He sipped his tea with an air of resentment; and Lady Allonby, in view of
the disparity of age which existed between Mr. Erwyn and her step-daughter,
had cause to feel that she had blundered into _gaucherie_; and to await
with contrition the proposal for her step-daughter's hand that the man was
(at last) about to broach to her, as the head of the family.
"Who is she?" said Lady Allonby, all friendly interest.
"An angel," said Mr. Erwyn, fencing.
"Beware," Lady Allonby exhorted, "lest she prove a recording angel; a wife
who takes too deep an interest in your movements will scarcely suit you."
"Oh, I am assured," said Mr. Erwyn, smiling, "that on Saturdays she will
allow me the customary half-holiday."
Lady Allonby, rebuffed, sought consolation among the conserves.
"Yet, as postscript," said Mr. Erwyn, "I do not desire a wife who will
take her morning chocolate with me and sup with Heaven knows whom. I have
seen, too much of _mariage à la mode_, and I come to her, if not with the
transports of an Amadis, at least with an entire affection and respect."
"Then," said Lady Allonby, "you love this woman?"
"Very tenderly," said Mr. Erwyn; "and, indeed, I would, for her sake, that
the errors of my past life were not so numerous, nor the frailty of my
aspiring resolutions rendered apparent--ah, so many times!--to a gaping
and censorious world. For, as you are aware, I cannot offer her an untried
heart; 'tis somewhat worn by many barterings. But I know that this heart
beats with accentuation in her presence; and when I come to her some day
and clasp her in my arms, as I aspire to do, I trust that her lips may not
turn away from mine and that she may be more glad because I am so near and
that her stainless heart may sound an echoing chime. For, with a great and
troubled adoration, I love her as I have loved no other woman; and this
much, I submit, you cannot doubt."
"I?" said Lady Allonby, with extreme innocence. "La, how should I know?"
"Unless you are blind," Mr. Erwyn observed--"and I apprehend those spacious
shining eyes to be more keen than the tongue of a dowager,--you must have
seen of late that I have presumed to hope--to think--that she whom I love
so tenderly might deign to be the affectionate, the condescending friend
who would assist me to retrieve the indiscretions of my youth--"
The confusion of his utterance, his approach to positive agitation as he
waved his teaspoon, moved Lady Allonby. "It is true," she said, "that I
have not been wholly blind--"
"Anastasia," said Mr. Erwyn, with yet more feeling, "is not our friendship
of an age to justify sincerity?"
"Oh, bless me, you toad! but let us not talk of things that happened
under the Tudors. Well, I have not been unreasonably blind,--and I do not
object,--and I do not believe that Dorothy will prove obdurate."
"You render me the happiest of men," Mr. Erwyn stated, rapturously. "You
have, then, already discussed this matter with Miss Allonby?"
"Not precisely," said she, laughing; "since I had thought it apparent to
the most timid lover that the first announcement came with best grace from
him."
"O' my conscience, then, I shall be a veritable Demosthenes," said Mr.
Erwyn, laughing likewise; "and in common decency she will consent."
"Your conceit." said Lady Allonby, "is appalling."
"'Tis beyond conception," Mr. Erwyn admitted; "and I propose to try
marriage as a remedy. I have heard that nothing so takes down a man."
"Impertinent!" cried Lady Allonby; "now of whatever can the creature be
talking!"
"I mean that, as your widowship well knows, marrying puts a man in his
proper place. And that the outcome is salutary for proud, puffed-up fellows
I would be the last to dispute. Indeed, I incline to dispute nothing, for I
find that perfect felicity is more potent than wine. I am now all pastoral
raptures, and were it not for the footmen there, I do not know to what
lengths I might go."
"In that event," Lady Allonby decided, "I shall fetch Dorothy, that the
crown may be set upon your well-being. And previously I will dismiss the
footmen." She did so with a sign toward those lordly beings.
"Believe me," said Mr. Erwyn, "'tis what I have long wished for. And
when Miss Allonby honors me with her attention I shall, since my life's
happiness depends upon the issue, plead with all the eloquence of a
starveling barrister, big with the import of his first case. May I, indeed,
rest assured that any triumph over her possible objections may be viewed
with not unfavorable eyes?"
"O sir," said Lady Allonby, "believe me, there is nothing I more earnestly
desire than that you may obtain all which is necessary for your welfare. I
will fetch Dorothy."
The largest footman but one removed Mr. Erwyn's cup.