As Archy entered a room adjoining the library corridor, Lord Bellingham
rose to receive him.
The boy's first impression was that his grandfather was the handsomest
old man he had ever seen. Not very tall, but perfectly well made, with
beautiful, pale, unwrinkled features, and a pair of the darkest,
clearest, brightest eyes imaginable, Lord Bellingham might well be
believed the handsomest man of his day. He was elegantly dressed in
black satin coat and knee-breeches, with black silk stockings and black
shoes with diamond buckles on his delicate, high-arched feet. His hair
was powdered, although it was in the morning, and the dandy of the Court
of George II. was still a dandy, even in his Northern fastness.
The day was mild, but a bright fire burned upon the hearth, and a black
velvet cloak, thrown over the chair, was evidently for use then and
there.
The impression made upon Archy was great and immediate, and Lord
Bellingham had no reason to find fault with him for any want of
deference when he advanced and shook his grandfather's hand in silence,
and then waited to be addressed.
"Grandson," said Lord Bellingham, in a musical voice with no touch of
the tremor of age, "I had, some weeks ago, a letter from my excellent
friend, Admiral Kempenfelt, telling me of you."
"The Admiral was most kind to me, sir." There was a pause, and then Lord
Bellingham suddenly asked:
"May I inquire your plans for the future?" Archy studied a moment or two
before answering, and then said, quietly:
"I propose to await an exchange of prisoners which will shortly take
place in France. Then I shall join Commodore Jones again."
At this a deep-red flush overspread Lord Bellingham's face; he clinched
his hands, and seemed about to burst into a torrent of wrath, but
restrained himself. When he spoke, it was to say, in a cold voice:
"I had a grandson--Trevor Langton--who was in his Majesty's service, and
a loyal officer of his Majesty. It has been my hard fate to lose
him--and to find you!"
"Sir," said Archy, firmly, "although you have found me, you are not
obliged to keep me. I came here on the recommendation of Admiral
Kempenfelt. I have some money, and when I get my share of the _Bon Homme
Richard's_ prize-money I shall have plenty--the _Serapis_, sir, was a
very valuable ship, and worth a hundred of our poor old _Richard_. I am
ready to go away to-day--now, this moment, if you wish me."
Lord Bellingham's reply to this was to seize the fire-tongs and
vigorously attack the sea-coal fire. The tongs, however, becoming
interlocked in some way, he suddenly threw them violently across the
room, where they struck a marble bust of the philosopher Plato--the
apostle of mildness--and smashed the nose off. So far from agitating
Lord Bellingham, this accident seemed to compose him, and he calmly
remarked:
"I feel relieved. My temper is peculiar, and I find that by giving it
vent in some noisy but harmless manner I am soonest calmed."
Archy's response to this was to burst into a suppressed guffaw of
laughter, which his grandfather perceiving, he also smiled.
"Rebellion seems to sit lightly on you, boy," he said, presently. "I
have had some experience of what rebellion means. During the rising in
'45 I was suspected of disloyalty. I had known the Young Pretender in
Rome when I was on the grand tour, and we were much together--ah, they
were wild days! After my return I was for some years at Court, although
I disdained any appointment. At the time of the rising I happened to be
here, and entertained the Duke of Cumberland on his way to the North.
When everything was over, and the prisoners from Culloden were being
marched southward, what was my surprise to find myself among them,
mounted on a horse whose bridle was led by a foot-soldier, with orders
to shoot me dead if I attempted to escape. When we reached London I had
no difficulty in clearing myself from suspicion without a formal trial,
and the King was pleased to admit me to his levee immediately after my
release. The Lords Bellingham had been counted as among the Tory
nobility, and that was one reason that suspicion fell on me; and my
enemies magnified some former acts of civility to Charles Edward into
complicity with him."
"But, sir," asked Archy, very earnestly, "did you really--er--a--I
mean--did you not in your heart wish him to succeed?" It was now Lord
Bellingham's turn to smile.
"If I had, I should be now probably dwelling in a cave in America."
"We are not cave-dwellers, sir. We have excellent, good houses. But you
had better luck when you were captured than I when I was captured at the
Texel, for I was chased along the sand and marshes by the _Seahorse's_
men--and knocked down, and flung into their boat as if I had been a lame
puppy--and when I tried to cry out, I was choked by a great monster of a
boatswain's mate, and told they would chuck me overboard if I did not
choke my luff--and they would have done it, too, sir! And then," added
Archy, slyly, "you would have been spared the finding of me."
"Young man, you have a gift of repartee. Be careful how you use it."
"I did not know, sir, until now, that I had any such gift. But when a
man enters the naval service"--Archy was barely sixteen, but he swelled
out his breast and stretched up his lithe, handsome figure as much as he
could--"he is forced to learn to take care of himself. If he does not,
certainly nobody will take care of him."
"I suppose," said Lord Bellingham, "since, articles of exchange have
been agreed upon, it would be best for you to remain here until you are
regularly exchanged. Then I hope you will be persuaded to return to your
allegiance to your King and country."
"Pardon me, sir," replied Archy, rising at once, "it is not customary
for officers on parole to listen to such propositions."
"Not from their own families, eh?"
"My family has not been sufficiently kind to me to warrant them in
advising me in a matter so delicate. My father gave me permission,
before his death, to enlist in the naval service of the colonies--and
with his warrant I need no other."
"Your father was not so respectful to the wishes of _his_ father. But,
be seated again. I am now an old man--childless, for my only remaining
child, Trevor Langton's mother, has long been estranged from me. Had her
son lived, we might have been reconciled--I deserve some indulgence.
Stay here for a time at least."
It seemed to Archy that Lord Bellingham did not have much claim to
indulgence, judging by what those who knew him best said of him. But, in
truth, Archy was fascinated by his grandfather's interesting
personality. He wanted to see more of so odd a character--and the
consciousness of having at least enough money to get back to London
whenever he wished, and last, but not least, some faint awakening of the
tie of blood, determined him.
"I will stay, sir," he said, presently. "I think my father would perhaps
wish me to--and my mother--I do not remember her, but--" he paused
suddenly. Ought he to stay?
"For your mother, I can only say that I had no fault to find with her
except that she married my son. My ebullitions of temper were mistaken
as insults to her--but it has always been my misfortune to have these
trifling and inconsequent faults magnified and mistaken."
Lord Bellingham's novel view of himself nearly caused Archy to explode
with laughter again--but he had begun to want to stay a while at
Bellingham Castle, and, like most people, he had but little difficulty
in persuading himself that what he wished to do was the best thing to be
done, so he presently agreed.
Lord Bellingham then began asking him questions about his life in
America, and Archy, nothing loath, plunged into a description of it,
telling of the abounding plenty of the colonists, his own pleasant
boyhood on the Chesapeake, the splendors of the viceregal court at
Williamsburg--these splendors did not become the less in the telling,
and Archy was not without gifts as a story-teller.
Lord Bellingham listened with the deepest interest. The story of this
new, free, fresh life beyond the seas was fascinating to the old man,
reared in courts, and spending his later days in luxurious and eccentric
solitude. And without in the least suspecting it, Archy was every moment
growing in grace in his grandfather's eyes. Here was no hobbledehoy, but
a handsome stripling, already with some knowledge of the world,
fearless, frank, and quick of wit. Before either of them realized how
time was flying, the shadows grew long, and Diggory, appearing at the
door, announced his lordship's dinner.
"Request Colonel Baskerville to dine with me to-day. You, grandson, will
remain."
As Archy had an idea that his grandfather's dinner was considerably
better than what Diggory chose to provide for his uncle and himself in
the little parlor, he agreed with alacrity, and in a few moments the
three were sitting around a small round table glittering with plate,
where an elaborate dinner was served.
Every moment that Archy passed with Colonel Baskerville he felt more and
more drawn towards him. He had been through stirring scenes in India
with Lord Clive and Warren Hastings, and when questioned by Lord
Bellingham, he told of them so interestingly that all three forgot the
hour, and they were interrupted by a message from the village asking
them to come and give their testimony at the inquiry about the attempted
robbery.
When they returned it was night, and there was no invitation to join
Lord Bellingham at supper; but Diggory, acting under secret
instructions, provided them with an excellent supper. Scarcely were they
through when a request came from Lord Bellingham that Colonel
Baskerville wait upon him in his own room. Archy, left alone, provided
himself with a book from the library, and, mending the fire and trimming
the candles, seated himself for a long and delightful evening of
reading. But presently the book fell from his hand, and he began
thinking over the rapid events of the last year, and then his mind
turned towards Langton. So young, so brave--Archy thought he had never
met a more gallant fellow--and so quiet withal--the favorite alike of
officers and men. He began to wonder how, in their many long talks,
nothing had ever revealed to each other their relationship. But he
remembered that he instinctively avoided all mention of his family, a
trait learned from his father, who had never even told him of any
relations named Langton. And Langton's mother had probably, for the same
melancholy reason, kept him in the dark also. While these thoughts were
passing through his mind, hours slipped away. The candles were burned to
their sockets when Colonel Baskerville appeared.
"I have spent the evening with my brother, talking about you," he said
to Archy, seating himself. "You seem to have politely defied him, and
thereby conquered him."
"If he thinks I mean to give up my country--" began Archy.
"Tush! You can do nothing until you are twenty-one. But I think I can
promise you that nothing will be left undone to charm you with England,
and with your place as Lord Bellingham's heir. He asked me about your
clothes, and I explained about the uniform--ha! ha!"
Colonel Baskerville laughed outright at the recollection.
Next morning Archy went to the library for another look at his father's
portrait. To his indignation, he found it turned to the wall again.
Archy then, locking the door to be secure from interruption, carefully
and deliberately turned every picture in the library to the wall. Then,
with an air of triumph, he met Diggory's eye when that functionary came
to him with a message that Lord Bellingham desired to see him. At that
interview Lord Bellingham mentioned that he had sent to York for a full
supply of clothes for Archy, for which Archy thanked him politely.
That very night, on going to his room--not the Duke of Cumberland's, but
a smaller and less splendid one--he found two large boxes of clothes.
Archy, who was by nature a dandy, examined them with pleasure. There
were three very elegant suits, two of them laced, a quantity of linen,
and a fine flowered dressing-gown.
When he rose next morning he was surprised and annoyed to find that his
shabby continental navy uniform had disappeared mysteriously, and in its
place lay a handsome cloth riding-suit. He remembered that Diggory had
come into the room to make the fire, and he suspected the clothes had
gone out under Diggory's arm. A shout in the corridor brought
Diggory--but he stolidly protested that he knew nothing about the
clothes.
"He is lying," thought Archy; "but I will be even with him, and my
grandfather too." So, dressing himself, but putting on his gay
dressing-gown instead of a coat and waistcoat, he coolly walked down to
breakfast. Colonel Baskerville laughed at the apparition, and he laughed
still more when Archy afterwards gravely paced up and down the terrace
in full view of his grandfather's windows. After a while he started off,
through the park, towards the village. A window was flung up behind him,
and Colonel Baskerville's voice called out:
"Lord Bellingham desires to know where you are going?"
"To the village, sir."
"In that rig?"
"I have no other, sir. My clothes have been stolen." And off Archy
marched, the dressing-gown flapping about his knees.
Just as he reached the park gates he heard some one pursuing him at a
quick trot. It was Diggory.
"Lord, sir, here are your clothes! His lordship is near having a fit at
home, swearing most awful, and Colonel Baskerville laughing like to
kill--and I ran and fetched the clothes."
"Next time you take my clothes, you impudent lackey, I will break some
of your worthless bones for you," was Archy's reply. And with Diggory's
assistance, in the middle of the roadway, he put on his well-beloved,
shabby blue uniform, and went calmly on his way to the village.