TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
with't."
"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"
"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
making to-day?"
The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
perplexed frown.
"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"
"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."
"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
difficult."
"And with blue eyes?"
"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.
"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
that had gone before.
"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."
Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"
"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
coach--"
"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"
"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And
certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
know."
"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the
contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
from any adventure which might offer."
"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
of Lauriston?"
"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with
indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with
an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
man subject to her coquetry.
"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine,
judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
courteous."
"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?"
"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine.
"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere
adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner."
"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John
Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
talked with my brother about these things for naught."
"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge.
"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
them again."
"Of course not," said Lady Catharine.
"It were impossible."
"Oh, quite impossible!"
Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.
"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of
having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold."
"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady
Catharine.
"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
your flosses?"
"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day
find means to send us word."
"Who? Sir Arthur?"
"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston."
"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge.
"Fie! He dare not!"
"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for
us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?"
"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
request the young man to leave at once."
"And never let him pass the door again."
"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle
sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would
say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
bow, and his fearlessness withal."
"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?"
"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may
drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
the king's coin."
"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge.
"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off,
his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
himself. See! 'Twas thus."
What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you
please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting.
They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your
Ladyship."
"What name does he offer, James?"
"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please."
Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.
"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady
Catharine.
"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
one to come within."
"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with
the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from
our door, since they have already been admitted."
"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge,
dimpling at the corners of her mouth.
"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."
Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
of Banbury.
John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
its falls of snowy laces.
"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
kindness to two strangers."
"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.
"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He
bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.
Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you
and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for
the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing."
She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
since it had arrived?
"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied
with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.
"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the
library and see if Sir Charles be within."
When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your
Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
ago, and left no word."
"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
vanished.
"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us
with tea."