OF CERTAIN PASSAGES IN THE ROSE GARDEN
NEITHER that day nor the following one did I again see my lady. And if
I yet retained some lingering hope of her relenting in her old attitude
towards me, I was doomed to be disappointed.
Nevertheless, in pursuance of my duties many a visit I paid to
solitary farms and to the houses of the gentry scattered along the
coast; at some to meet with the respect which my uniform and the
nature of my errand warranted; at others--and these for the most
part belonging to Catholic gentlemen--to encounter an ill-concealed
hostility that sufficiently testified with whom their sympathies
rested. And everywhere I found the same brooding spirit of alarm
and discontent. The whole country was on the tiptoe of expectation.
Rumours of William’s defeat and death were freely circulated by James’s
infatuated followers. Scarcely a fisherman upon the coast but who woke
fully expecting to see a French army drawn up upon the shore. Indeed,
throughout all the western counties the Jacobites were secretly arming,
awaiting but the success of the Stuart cause in Ireland to kindle anew
the flames of civil war.
Such was the condition of England in this, the month of June, 1690.
’Twas some ten days after the incident in the hollow that I again
had speech of my lady. Intelligence had reached me of a rumoured
landing of arms in the neighbourhood of Teignmouth. Leaving De Brito,
therefore, and twenty men to guard the village, with the remaining
two-score troopers at my heels, I set out northwards. Whether, for
once, rumour had lied, or whether the Jacobites had got wind of our
presence I do not know; but certain it is that though we lay all that
day and the next concealed in a beech wood near to the town nothing
occurred, nor did we see any sign of a vessel off the coast.
On the third day, therefore, empty handed, we returned to Cleeve. It
was evening, when, dismissing the troopers at the entrance gates, I
rode up to the manor.
Seldom, I think, in all my wanderings have I witnessed a more lovely
night. Behind the torrs, in a golden glory the sun was sinking to its
rest, gilding the foliage of the oaks with a dozen varying shades of
orange, pink and purple, and in the light of which the house before me
stood refulgent, as if ’twas bathed in lambent flame.
I rode slowly to the stables, and having seen my horse safely stalled,
I passed by way of the terrace to the house.
The doors and windows stood wide open, for ’twas a warm June night and
the smoke curled lazily from the tall chimneys into the still evening
air; but there was no other sign of life about it, and I entered and
made my way to the dining hall without encountering any one.
Here indeed, though I met with the same solitude, I found a cold
collation upon the oaken table, to the which I readily applied myself,
wondering the while at the silence of the house and half wishing--such
is man’s inconsistency--for their ladyships’ presence. Once, my eyes
travelling through the open window, rested upon the figure of a woman
passing swiftly down one of the terrace walks. But the distance and the
gathering dusk left me uncertain as to whether it was my lady or no.
Presently I rose and sauntered slowly through the gardens to the
cliffs; and here, upon the highest point, I flung myself upon the grass
and gazed in genuine admiration upon the scene.
Long I lay there watching the lights spring up, one by one, in the
village below me, until the crimson glow faded from the fleecy clouds
above; then at last I rose and slowly retraced my steps. As I passed
through the misty, scented gardens, idly culling the roses that lined
the pathway on either side, the bats were fluttering around me on
their silent wings, and faintly in the deepening dusk came the hoot of
wandering owls. Somewhere in the trees around the house a nightingale
poured forth its flood of song, as slowly upon the quiet landscape fell
the peaceful stillness of the summer night.
Presently I saw upon my right a green arch of yew, and passing beneath
this, I came upon a spot the like of which I have never seen to equal.
Surely, I told myself, this is my lady’s garden, and one well worthy
to match with her in point of loveliness. For it was a veritable bower
of roses--a smooth stretch of green lawn, interspersed with beds of
flowers of every conceivable shade of colour. The thick yew hedge
enclosing it was cut in the stiff and formal manner of the Dutch, a
fashion brought with William from The Hague. In the centre stood a
white marble fountain, the jet from which fell with a pleasant plash
into the wide basin beneath. One side of this enclosure was fenced by
the low stone wall that ran above the moat, and facing me, another
leafy arch gave entrance to the terrace walk beyond. Yet it was not
admiration for the scene before me that brought me to a sudden halt and
caused my heart to quicken its pulsations; for upon the broad steps at
the fountain foot a woman was seated with a canvas in her hand, a brush
and palette at her side. At the sound of my footsteps she turned her
head, and I saw that it was my lady’s sister, Mistress Grace.
“Captain Cassilis,” she said with a winning smile, “saw you ever a more
lovely night? Alas! I fear that my poor efforts fall far short of the
reality. But you shall judge, sir, of their merits for yourself.” And
she held the canvas out to me.
For a moment I stared at her in sheer astonishment. Then with a beating
heart I took the canvas in my hand; for although she had not shown the
same hostility towards me that my lady had done, yet never before had
she addressed me of her own free will.
“You will let me see it?” I said humbly.
“You have been a great traveller, I believe, sir,” she answered; “and
therefore your opinion should carry weight.
“But you do not speak!” I held the painting from me, the better to
observe it; though had it been the finest masterpiece that Rome or
Florence could produce, I doubt if in that moment I had marked its
beauty; for my head was in a whirl. Was the barrier between myself and
these women to be broken down at last?
“Madam,” I replied hastily, “to say that it is beautiful, is only----”
“To flatter me!” she interrupted quickly, as I hesitated, racking
my brains for a phrase she might not deem extravagant. “And,” she
continued lightly, “is it your custom, sir, to judge of a picture’s
excellence upside down?”
“Madam,” I stammered in utter confusion, “I crave your pardon----”
“Fie, sir!” she continued, smiling. “Do you not know that to wound a
woman’s vanity is to make an enemy for life? And I had inferred,” she
continued in the same tone of raillery, glancing at the roses in my
hand, “that you were a lover of Nature yourself.”
“If, madam,” I said hesitatingly, “you would permit me in some slight
measure to retrieve my unfortunate error, and would so far honour me as
to accept this humble tribute of my regret----”
“I love flowers,” she said simply, taking my proffered gift and raising
it to her face, perhaps to hide her heightened colour.
“And I also,” I replied, looking down at her slight, girlish figure,
as with deft fingers she rearranged the roses in her lap. “For to one
fresh from the reeking kennels of London, where pestilence stalks hand
in hand with crime, this old world garden where you live comes as a
glimpse of Eden.”
“Yet I have read, sir,” she said impulsively, “that every Eden has
its----”
She broke off abruptly without finishing the sentence; and even in the
dusk I saw the warm blood mantle to her brow.
“Its serpent, you would say,” I said quietly, reading her thoughts;
“aye, madam?”
For a moment or two there was silence--a silence broken only by the
soft sound of the falling water and the voices of the night. I glanced
at the woman before me and my heart sank. What a gulf there was between
her life and mine!
Presently she spoke.
“It was a thoughtless speech,” she said in a low voice. “I pray you
forget my hasty words.”
Again there was silence between us. But the memory of my errand in this
place, of my lady’s open scorn, and of the haunting feeling of unrest
that I had previously felt recurred to me again with double force.
“You, at least, do not hate me, madam,” I said bitterly, leaning upon
the marble basin and gazing into the water below.
“It may be that I have not my sister’s pride,” she answered slowly,
“or it may be that my nature is not formed for hatred. And then--” she
continued, bending lower over the flowers, so that I could not see her
face.
“Yes, madam?” I said inquiringly, as she paused.
“Forgive me if I am wrong,” she replied; “but I do not think that you
are happy here.”
“Happy?” I cried, startled out of my self-control. “God knows that I
am not! Do you imagine that I have no feeling? That it is pleasant for
me to be shunned as if I were a leper--unfit for human ken? But for
your kindly speech of me to-night, since first I came to Cleeve I have
encountered naught save contumely and cruel words. Yet I would remind
you, madam, that another in my place might not have dealt with you so
leniently.”
In the silence that followed on my words--a silence in which the woman
before me rose to her feet, and, laying the flowers that I had given
her upon the fountain rim, stooped to collect her scattered colours--a
quick step sounded on the terrace walk, and my lady’s figure appeared
beneath the arch of yew.
“Why, Gracie?” she cried gaily. The fountain was between us--she had
not discerned my presence. “I have been seeking everywhere for you!
And what is this?” she continued, catching sight of the flowers,
and raising them to inhale their fragrant odour. “Roses? Ah, now I
understand! Cousin Rupert has been here, and the painting, I fear me,
was but a pretext!”
“Indeed but you are wrong!” Mistress Grace replied with pretty
confusion. “It was this gentleman who gave them to me!”
At her words I stepped aside, and my lady and I were face to face. It
sent a swift pang to my heart to see the sudden change upon her face.
A moment before she had been gay and smiling, but now, at sight of me
the smile was frozen on her lips, and the hand in which she held the
flowers fell to her side again. For it may be twenty seconds thus we
stood, her eyes hardening with the pride I knew so well. Then she
spoke. “It was kind indeed of Captain Cassilis to give us of our own,”
she said coldly. “But in the house yonder there are of flowers enough
and yet to spare. And for your compassion, sir, toward our fallen
state, it may follow--these!”
She had been standing near to the wall that ran above the moat,
and now, suiting the action to her words, she tossed the roses
contemptuously into the black water below.
“Come, Gracie,” she added, turning on her heel.
In a few strides I had barred her further progress.
“One moment, madam,” I said hoarsely; “I desire a word with you.”
“The desire is not reciprocal, sir,” she answered icily. “Permit me to
pass.”
“Not until you have heard me, madam,” I cried desperately. “Even the
greatest of criminals can claim so much right.”
“In that case,” she replied with bitter irony, “your claim is
indisputable. Say on, sir. We are but two unarmed women here.”
For a moment, speechless, I stared at her, with the hot blood flushing
to my face. How this woman hated me!
“Well, sir,” she cried impatiently, “have you nothing to say? No
further insults for your prisoners?”
“Madam, madam!” I burst out passionately, “what have I done to you that
you should hate me so?”
“_Hate_ you?” she answered slowly, gazing at me with hard, cruel eyes.
“I think that you mistake me, sir. You are too mean, too base a thing
to hate. _I loathe you!_”
And as with bent head, to hide the pain her words caused me, I stood
aside, without further notice, save, indeed, one pitying glance from
Mistress Grace, they passed me by, and I heard their footsteps die away
into the night.
Long I remained where they had left me, my brain a chaos, a tumult in
my breast. The song of the nightingale still quivered on the peaceful
air, and the moon rose high in the heavens, silvering the tops of the
surrounding oaks and flinging the shadows of their twisted boles upon
the grass. Yet still I lingered by the fountain, in nowise conscious
of the flight of time, whilst the very leaves, whispering to the
passing breeze, seemed but to mock me with the echo of my lady’s
words. Presently my brain grew clearer. What was this woman to me
that I should imagine that her words could wound me? Or what concern
of mine the opinion that she held of me? ’Twas but a week or two at
most, and Cleeve, its fortunes, and its mistress would but linger in my
memory--a vanished dream. Or, at the most, the vision of my lady would
shine athwart the pathway of my chequered life, like as a radiant star
above my head shot suddenly across the lighted heavens and vanished in
illimitable space.
With a grim smile and a firm step I made my way to the house. Arrived
in the hall, however, a surprise awaited me. Within the main entrance,
seeming to fill the doorway, and conversing with my lady in low tones,
stood the formidable figure of Sampson Dare.
The actual words I could not catch, but of the failure of his mission
I could readily guess, both by his dejected face and also by the fact
that at the sound of my footstep my lady turned swiftly away, and with
bent head and averted face passed up the oaken stair. When the last
rustle of her skirts had died away I slowly crossed the hall.
“Well, my friend,” I said, addressing the giant before me, not wisely,
I admit, “what news of London?”
He scowled at me for a moment without speaking, then bending suddenly,
he thrust his face within a foot of mine, and I felt his hot breath on
my cheek.
“Hark you!” he growled hoarsely, opening and shutting his great hands,
“but for my orders I would twist your neck and think no more of it than
if I killed a rat!”
“Tush, man!” I made answer, meeting his gaze firmly, though I confess
I was considerably startled at his words, for well I knew that once
within his iron grip, the man had strength to carry out his threat,
“and bring the troopers down upon the house? You should best know in
that case what consideration your mistress would be like to meet with
at their hands. No, no,” I continued coolly, twisting my moustaches, “I
give you credit for more sense than that, unless, indeed, your body’s
growth has dwarfed your brain.”
His face had fallen at my words. I suppose he saw their wisdom, but he
still regarded me with a look of vindictive hatred.
“So you shelter yourself behind the women, do you?” he said at length.
“Very well, Master Chicken-heart! Only, should it happen that they
cannot shield you----”
“In that event, my friend,” I answered, lightly tapping the butt of
the pistol in my sash, “the bigger the bulk, the easier the mark. You
understand?” And without further words I left him. But that night on
retiring to my chamber, for the first time I took the precaution of
sounding all the walls and flooring with my sword, and having assured
myself as to the non-existence of a secret entrance, I placed my sword
and pistols within easy reach of my hand; for with so resolute a man
now at her bidding, I was by no means certain that my lady might not
attempt some desperate scheme against me. Nay, as I stood at the open
window gazing across the woods to where the moonlight fell upon the
old church tower and the slumbering hamlet below, I was minded for the
moment to transfer my quarters to the village inn. But shame at such a
course kept me to my post, and I flung myself at last upon my couch,
conscious that the day had brought to me another formidable antagonist,
a relentless foe.
Under the circumstances, therefore, it is not to be wondered at that
I slept but ill, or that it was with a distinct feeling of relief I
awoke from a troubled slumber to hear the distant clock upon the church
strike five.
I sprang from my couch and set the window wide. By my faith! ’twas a
morning to put heart in any man. The fresh sea breeze stole softly
through the casement, fragrant with the scent of opening flowers.
Overhead a few fleecy clouds drifted idly beneath a dome of deepest
blue, whilst in the gardens below me, flooded by the summer sunshine,
gorgeous butterflies on painted wings flitted above the dew-bespangled
grass.
As, lost in thought, I leaned upon the sill, the fancy for a swim in
the distant, murmuring sea commended itself so strongly to my mind
that, hastily dressing, I took my sheathed sword beneath my arm and
descended the stairs. No one was as yet abroad, and all was silent
in the house when I quietly unbarred the outer door and stepped upon
the terrace. And now that I was in the open air, my courage, that had
somewhat waned the night before, returned to me. I laughed at the
fears that then had power to shake me, and I told myself with a thrill
of pardonable pride that over all this fair domain and that which it
contained I was the master, and would prove my power. But on arrival at
the cliffs my exultation suffered a sudden check, for I had scarcely
set foot upon the narrow path when my eyes, travelling to the beach
below, fell upon that which caused me to fling myself down upon the
grass and to peer cautiously over the edge of the cliff; for in the
little bay beneath, a boat, urged by a single pair of oars, was rapidly
approaching to the land. Presently it grounded on the shingle, and
in the solitary occupant who sprang ashore I recognised the figure
of Sampson Dare. He beached the boat high and dry above the receding
tide, and, stooping, took from thence a lantern and a cloak. This done,
he straightened his back, and, unconscious of the watcher overhead,
shading his eyes, stood looking out to sea. What in the name of mystery
was the man doing here--here at this early hour, with a lantern in his
hand? Clearly, the very fact of this proved that he had been out all
night. Yet for what was he watching now? Or what did the man expect?
And suddenly the answer came, for the thick haze that had hitherto hung
upon the surface of the water was rapidly dissipating beneath the sun’s
increasing power, and as with its disappearance the prospect widened,
away out at sea, some two miles distant, I caught sight of the dark
hull of a small vessel with a cloud of white canvas above, looking for
all the world like some great seabird riding on the wave.
Short time had I to note her appearance, however, for even as I gazed
the helm swung round, and heading for the open sea, she vanished in the
golden mist beyond.
Not till then did the figure of the man below me turn and with a quick
step ascend the beach. And seeing this, I quickly withdrew, concealing
myself among the shrubs, where I could command both a view of the path
by which he must come and also of the house itself, and setting myself
to wait for what should follow.
And presently my patience was rewarded, for on arriving within sight of
the house, at the beginning of the sloping lawns, he came to a sudden
halt, and after closely scanning its windows, fell to pacing up and
down the grass. Nor had he long to wait before the door by which I had
left the house suddenly opened and my lady herself stepped forth into
the light.
At sight of her the man again advanced, and they met upon the little
bridge above the moat, that, as it were, divided all the gardens from
the house.
What my lady was saying to him, or that the fact of the door being
unbolted had caused her some uneasiness, I could not but shrewdly
guess; for they both turned to look up at my open window. And I saw the
big man lay his hand upon the long rapier at his side with a gesture
that boded ill for me should my presence be discovered, and set me
crouching closer in the bushes, cursing my scarlet coat and heavy
military boots that compelled me to remain in my concealment, from
which I could neither advance nor retreat. Yet the entrance to the rose
garden lay but some dozen feet away; if, I thought, as they turned once
more and came towards the place where I lay, that was their goal, then
surely my ears were keen enough to give me the key to this mystery.
That it was a plot with which my fate was somehow connected I did not
doubt; the presence of the vessel alone confirmed my opinion, and I
awaited with a beating heart for their approach.
But again, I confess, I did not know my lady, and I could not but
admire her caution, for when within thirty feet of where I lay, on a
sudden she turned sharply aside, and leading the way to the very centre
of the open lawns, careless of whether I should see them together, they
sauntered slowly up and down in earnest conversation. Of the nature of
this latter I could only guess, but in the added sparkle of my lady’s
eye, in the prouder poise of her lovely head, I read all the signs of a
settled purpose, of indomitable will.
They parted eventually at the little bridge, the big man evidently
receiving some instructions, for he nodded repeatedly, and strode off
in the direction of the stables.
After he had disappeared my lady still remained leaning, lost in
thought, against the low stone parapet. But if, as I now believe, she
had a suspicion of my presence near, why then ’twas well conceived, for
while she was there I dared not move, and thus the time was gained for
Sampson Dare to speed upon his errand.
’Twas full five minutes ere she roused herself, and then, with a
searching glance over the sunny gardens, turning on her heel, she
walked slowly to the house.
It was not until the door had closed upon her that I ventured from my
hiding place, and stealthily making a wide detour, for I would not
have her deem that I had played the spy, came out upon the avenue
before the house. Passing thence to the stables, I found my suspicions
considerably strengthened, for Sampson Dare was nowhere to be seen, and
the powerful grey that he bestrode was missing from its stall.
But if the events of the morning left me in some perplexity, they
left me also alert and on my guard to face the threatened danger, and
I returned slowly to the house, fully determined to probe the secret
to its core. I spent the morning, therefore, in hanging about the
house and stables, seeking for something that would enable me to form
a clue. But nothing occurred, nor did Sampson Dare again return, and
reluctantly I owned myself completely baffled.
Towards noon, grown weary of inactivity, I mounted my horse with the
intention of riding to the village, but I had got no further than
the gates of the manor when I was startled by the sound of a cavalry
trumpet echoing amongst the torrs.
Shading my eyes with my hand, I gazed down the valley. Upon the winding
road from Exeter, and still some two miles distant, I saw the scarlet
coats and glittering accoutrements of a regiment of horse upon the
march. And upon the leading files approaching nearer, I was no less
surprised to recognise my own comrades of the Tangier Horse. At the
sight I turned the sorrel’s head, drove in my spurs, and rode down
to meet the approaching column. I received a hearty welcome from my
fellow-officers, and a few minutes later I was riding side by side with
Colonel Savage, a man as much disliked and feared as was the brutal
Kirke himself.
In answer to the questions that he put to me, I gave him a brief
account of my adventures, omitting much, however, relating to my lady;
for the coarse jests of the men around me upon the nature of my present
duty grated with an unwonted distaste upon my ear.
Yet these were the men with whom I had been content to ruffle it
with the best--nay, even to be looked upon as a sort of leader, on
the reputation of my swordsmanship. I, a gentleman of family! At the
thought a sudden rush of shame pervaded me.
“So this is Cleeve,” the colonel said abruptly. We had reached the
entrance gates. “I would I had the harrying of yonder dove cot. But
that my orders to advance admit of no delay I would visit it as in the
days of ’88.”
’Twas my turn now to do the questioning, and in reply he told me
they were bound for Plymouth, whither every soldier in the county was
being hurried, since the French fleet, under Tourville, was hovering
off the coast and a descent upon the town was daily expected. Also,
that in Ireland affairs had reached a crisis. William, with an army
of not less than thirty thousand men, was in full march southwards;
whilst James had retreated from his camp at Dundalk and thrown himself
into Drogheda. It was expected that a battle would be fought in the
immediate vicinity of Dublin.
All this and more--for of the doings of the outer world I had but
scanty news--he told me as we rode; so that it was with surprise I
found that we had reached the outskirts of the village. A deep frown
gathered on the colonel’s face as at our appearance the troopers
hastened from the houses.
“The rogues grow lazy,” he said grimly. “I will promise them no lack of
work between here and Plymouth.”
“Plymouth?” I said inquiringly.
“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Do you suppose that I can leave
three-score troopers rotting here when every man is needed in the
south?”
“But----” I began in some dismay.
“There is no ‘but’ about it,” he said impatiently. “My orders are
strict. Nevertheless, I will strain a point in your favour. You shall
have a dozen men.”
“A dozen men?” I cried incredulously--“a dozen men to guard this place?”
“And that is ten too many,” he replied. “What? Are you afraid of a set
of country clodpoles, who could not tell a sabre from a scythe?”
“Yet even a scythe may form a dangerous weapon, as Sedgemoor proved,” I
said tartly.
“Bah!” he replied contemptuously. We were dismounting in the courtyard
of the inn as he spoke. “’Tis not like you, Cassilis, to reckon odds.
A pity, indeed, if a dozen men cannot order a parcel of beer-swilling
clowns, who would scuttle to their burrows fast enough at the snapping
of a pistol. But who the devil have we here?”
I looked up quickly at the words. We were approaching the steps in a
body when the door of the inn suddenly opened and a man came hastily
out.
He was dressed in riding costume, and as he halted in surprise at sight
of us, I saw that it was the young baronet, my lady’s cousin.
“Permit me, colonel,” I said, stepping forward, “to bring to your
acquaintance Sir Rupert Courtenay, of Clevedon Hall.”
“Courtenay?” said the colonel, frowning. “I knew a Courtenay years ago
in Flanders.”
“My father fell at Teneffe,” the young baronet replied with visible
impatience.
“What?” cried the other heartily. “You are the son of Richard
Courtenay--‘Fighting Dick’ we called him--my old comrade in arms? The
most rampant Papist and prince of good fellows that ever drew sword
from scabbard. Aye, aye! I can trace the likeness now. But ’tis no
place for discussion, this. You will join us within.”
“Your pardon,” stammered the young man, who, I could not help
seeing, was considerably embarrassed at his words, “but--there is an
appointment----”
“With a woman, I’ll warrant,” the colonel said quickly; then noticing
the flush upon the other’s face: “Tchut! women will keep. And I
will even hold you my prisoner for the time and so preserve you
from temptation. Nay, I will take no denial, sir,” he continued
peremptorily. “You shall share the honours of our table, and we will
crack a bottle to your father’s memory.”
Accordingly the whole party followed them to the inn parlour, whither
the landlord was speedily summoned to attend their wants. But as for
me, in the confusion caused by our arrival I passed unnoticed from the
room and left the inn.