That same evening, after observing the necessary formalities
surrounding the arrival of Earl Arthur, Stephen at last broke away
from the banquet and went in search of his sister. Whatever his
father's feelings, he was both glad to have her under his roof, and
firmly set in the belief that he was acting on her behalf. His motive
for seeing her now (so he told himself) was a sense of responsibility
for her comfort and well-being.
The affection which he felt for her at their first meeting had not
changed, his thoughts continued, except that the lust had gone out of
it. And in a sense, even this was a relief. His greatest need now was
for friendship and a sense of family, both of which might only have
been lost and obscured, had they become conventional lovers.
He had drunk more than his share of the wine served at dinner, seeming
unconcerned by his father's tension, and the measured severity of Earl
Arthur. And now, as he walked the long corridors he fell to
reminiscing, to gentle, water-color thoughts of their long ride
together across the countryside. And he remembered their first kiss,
so innocent, so full of feeling. To see her now, and to know that it
was in his power to bring her back to pride and prosperity, aroused in
him a feeling of warmth and tenderness which he had not experienced
since childhood. To speak with her late into the night. To kiss and to
touch, her..... The door was ajar.
The room was empty. She was gone.
An old peasant woman was making up the bed. He wasted little time on
her. "Where is my sister?" he demanded.
Her eyes narrowed at this. But after a moment's pondering, she seemed
to understand doubly. "Ah. She and her guardian have been moved to
other quarters."
"What
other quarters?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir."
"What do
you know!" he cried angrily.
"Only it was the Lieutenant as took `em, and that he was none too
gentle." And she turned away, concealing her purpose, as ever.
Stephen stormed out of the room, blind with rage. Those who passed him
in the hallway drew back as from a fire. Even those servants of long
standing. . .none had seen him in a state like this.
He entered the banquet hall just as the Earl and his entourage were
leaving. The withered Arthur nodded stiffly in greeting, but Stephen
never saw him. His eyes knew the presence of one man only, and that
man stood at the head of an emptying table.
His father eyed him darkly as he approached, and with a stern gesture,
ordered him to keep silent until they were alone. Then giving final
instructions to his steward about the service and lodging of his
guests, he turned and walked sharply to an auxiliary den, with his son
a brooding tempest behind. No sooner had the doors closed behind them
than the deluge broke. At first the father tried to weather his son's
wrath, hoping that it would soon spend itself, like all his passions.
But Stephen was not merely upset. He was outraged. For perhaps the
first time in his life, he knew the intoxicating power of righteous
anger. His sister, whom he loved and had sworn to protect, had been
locked away like the coarsest and commonest of criminals. And he knew
Ballard well enough to imagine the state in which he must have left
her, and what she must be feeling now. The thought of his thick,
gnarled hands upon her, dragging her away, was the final straw.
"You bastard
."
It has been truly said that a father shall be judged by his sons, and
that if he is found wanting, they will be a bane and a curse until
death. All the enmity and resentment he had ever felt toward this man,
all the shortcomings of his own character, indeed, every injury he had
ever suffered, he now held to be the fault of the fat, corrupted
animal before him.
"You will set her free, now
," he ejaculated. "Or so help me God, I will find her and do it
myself!"
"Stephen
....."
"You fear Earl Arthur? It is I
you should fear. I know enough to have you transported, along with the
lowest horse-thieves and highwaymen!"
"You had best calm yourself, Stephen," replied Lord Purceville coldly.
"And if you know what is good for you---"
"Are you threatening me
? Do you think I'm bluffing!" he cried, coming to within inches of his
father's face. "I am going to the Tower, now. And if I am in any way
resisted, I will go to Earl Arthur instead, and put an end to your
sorry game."
"You will not
---"
"Watch
me!" And he turned on his heel, and made for the door.
Henry Purceville seized his son by the arm, and jerked him back into
the center of the room. "Be still
, I'm warning you! Don't make me lock you away as well."
With a scream of rage Stephen pushed him off, then flew at him, fists
reeling. So great was his fury that he knocked the larger man down
and, pinning him there, began to pummel him with half-blocked punches
to the face.
Then he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull, and falling
forward, knew no more.