Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/denouncedromance00blouiala
(University of California Libraries)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
Appleton's
Town and Country
Library
No. 200
DENOUNCED
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY.
A ROMANCE. 12mo. Paper, 50
cents; cloth, $1.00.
"We do not hesitate to declare that Mr. Bloundelle-Burton's new
romance will be very hard to beat in its own particular line. In his
previous works Mr. Burton gave evidence which entitled him to a very
prominent place among the writers of his class; and now, at another
bound, he has leaped into the foremost rank. If he only keeps up to
the level of 'In the Day of Adversity,' he must continue to rank as
one of the most interesting and popular writers of the day. . . . Mr.
Burton's creative skill is of the kind which must fascinate those who
revel in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and Stanley
Weyman. Even the author of 'A Gentleman of France' has not surpassed
the writer of 'In the Day of Adversity' in the moving interest of his
tale."--_St. James's Gazette_.
New York: D. APPLETON & Co., 72 Fifth Avenue.
DENOUNCED
_A ROMANCE_
BY
JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON
AUTHOR OF
IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY, THE HISPANIOLA PLATE, ETC.
"The adder lies i' the corbie's nest."
Jacobite Ballad
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1896
COPYRIGHT, 1896,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
I. A home coming
II. A subject of King George
III. A woman's letter
IV. The subjects of King James
V. My lord goes out of town
VI. Kate makes an appointment
VII. "The bird that danced the rigadoon"
VIII. "Fortune! An unrelenting foe to love"
IX. Denounced
X. How my lord returned home
XI. Archibald's escape
XII. Hey! for France
XIII. Man and wife
XIV. Flight
XV. United
XVI. "Treason has done his worst"
XVII. Gasconism
XVIII. "What face that haunts me?"
XIX. "Which way I fly is hell--myself am hell!"
XX. Avenged
XXI. The Bastille
XXII. Despair!
XXIII. At last
XXIV. Broken hearts
XXV. "His hours to their last minute mounted"
XXVI. Kate learns she is free
XXVII. Afar off still
XXVIII. "A kind of change came in my fate"
XXIX. Free
XXX. The marquis goes home
XXXI. "An outstayed welcome"
XXXII. "Love strong as death!"
Appendix
DENOUNCED.
CHAPTER I.
A HOME COMING.
It was a wild and stormy sea through which the bluff-bowed Galliot
laboured, as, tossed first from one wave to another, she, with
the best part of her gear stowed away and no sail on her but a
close-reefed main-topsail and a spanker, endeavoured to make her way
towards the Suffolk coast. On the poop, the captain--a young man of
not more than thirty--hurled orders and oaths indiscriminately at his
crew, every man of which was a good deal older than himself, while the
crew themselves worked hard at hauling up the brails, going out on the
gaff to pass the gaskets, and stowing the mainsail-yard. But still she
laboured and rolled and yawed, her forefoot pointing at one moment
almost to the Dutch coast and at another to the English--she had left
Calais thirty hours before, intending to fetch Dover, and had been
blown thus far out of her course--and it seemed as though she would
never get any nearer to the land she wished to reach. And, to make
matters worse, lying some distance off on her starboard beam--though
too far to be distinguished through the haze in the air and the spume
of the waves--was a large vessel about which those on board could not
decide as to whether she was one of King George's sloops or--a
privateer. The young captain trusted it was the first, since he had no
quarrel with either his Majesty or his navy, and had no men who could
be pressed, while the passengers in the cabin--but this you shall
read.
In that cabin there sat four persons, three men and a woman--the last
of whom shall be first described. A woman young--of not more than
twenty-four years of age--fair and well-favoured, her wheat-coloured
hair brought back in a knot behind her head, above which, as was still
the custom of the time for ladies when travelling, she wore a
three-cornered hat. Wrapped in a long, collarless coat, square cut and
possessing no pockets--also the custom of the time--it was still easy
to perceive that, underneath, was a supple, graceful figure, and,
when--as was occasionally the case--this long coat was thrown open so
that the wearer might get a little relief from the stuffiness of the
cabin, the beauty of that figure might plainly be perceived beneath
the full scarlet waistcoat embroidered with gold lace, which, by its
plenitude of pockets, atoned for the absence of any in the coat. Her
face was, as has been said, a well-favoured one, oval, and possessing
large blue eyes and delicate, thin lips, and with upon it even here,
on this tossing sea, a fair rose and milk complexion, while in those
large eyes the observer might have well imagined he saw a look of
unhappiness. Also, too, a look of contempt whenever they rested on the
man who, as she leant an elbow on one side of the table between them,
leant one of his on the other.
They rested on him now with much that look as, pushing over to her a
glass of burnt wine which the cabin-boy has just brought in at his
orders, as well as some ratafia biscuits, he said:
"I would counsel you, my lady, to partake of a little more
refreshment. I have spoken with the master outside who says that by no
chance can we make Harwich ere nightfall. Your ladyship, excellent
sailor as you are, must have a care to your health."
"My health," she replied, "needs no care, either from myself or you.
And when I am athirst I will drink, as when I am hungry I will eat.
You had best offer your refreshments to our fellow-passengers."
The man to whom she spake was but two or three years older than
herself--and was her husband, Simeon Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge.
He, too, was well dressed in the travelling costume of the day,
wearing a black frock with a gold button, a black waistcoat trimmed
with gold, black velvet breeches, and a gold-laced three-cornered hat,
while on the table lay a silver-hilted hanger that slid about with
every motion of the vessel. In looks he was her equal, being, however,
as dark as she was fair, but of well-cut, even features and of a clear
complexion. He wore, too, his natural hair, cropped somewhat short as
though a wig might in other circumstances be easily assumed, but the
absence of this article of dress in no way detracted from his
appearance.
As her ladyship spoke he darted one swift glance at her from under his
eyelids--a glance that seemed to embody in it a full return of all the
coldness and contempt with which she had addressed him; and then,
acting on her suggestion, he turned to the two other inhabitants of
the cabin and said:
"Come, Father Sholto, and you, Fane, come and take a sup of the
liquor. 'Twill do you both good. Come and drink."
"Ah, the drink, the drink," exclaimed the latter, "well, give me a
sup. Maybe 'twill appease a qualm. Kitty, me child," turning to Lady
Fordingbridge, "why do ye not do as your husband asks? 'Tis a good
stomachic--by the powers! how the barky rolls."
"I want nothing," her ladyship replied, lifting her eyes to him with
almost as contemptuous a glance as when she had previously raised them
to her husband, and then relapsing again into silence.
"I, too," said the other man, who had been addressed as "Father
Sholto," "will take a sup, she does roll badly. Yet, my lord," he
said, as he poured some out into a mug that stood by the liquor, "let
me persuade you to be more guarded in your expressions. To forget,
indeed," he went on, while his cold grey eyes were fixed on the other,
"that there is such a person as 'Father Sholto' in existence for the
present; that such a well-known ecclesiastic is travelling in your
Lordship's esteemed company. For," he continued, after swallowing the
liquor at a gulp, "I do assure you--Fane, see that the door of the
cabin is fast! and that none of the crew are about!--you could not
make your entry into your own country, could not return to make your
peace with King George, the Elector of Hanover--with a worse companion
in your train than the man who is known as 'Father Sholto.'
Therefore----"
"Therefore," interrupted Lord Fordingbridge impatiently, "I will not
forget again, Mr. Archibald. Enough!"
"Therefore," continued the other, as though no interruption had
occurred, still in the cold, low voice and still with the cold grey
eyes fixed on his lordship, "it is best you do not forget, at least,
at present. Later, if your memory fails you--I have known it
treacherous ere now--it will be of little importance. Charles Edward,
the Prince of Wales, is at Edinburgh, soon he will be at St. James';
but until he is, remember what we are. You are the Viscount
Fordingbridge, but lately succeeded to your father's title, and a
convert from his Jacobitism to Hanoverian principles; her ladyship
here, who is ever to be depended upon, follows your estimable
political principles; her respected father, Mr. Doyle Fane, has, he
avers, no politics at all; and I am Mr. Archibald, a Scotch merchant.
You will remember?"
"_Peste!_ Yes. I will remember. Tutor me no more. Now, Fane, the sea
abates somewhat--go and discover if we are near the English coast.
And, Mr. Archibald, I have a word to say to my lady here, with your
permission. As I am at the expense of this passage, may I ask for a
moment's privacy with her? Doubtless the air on the deck will refresh
you both."
"Precisely," replied the other. "We will not intrude unless it grows
again so rough that we cannot remain on deck. Come, Fane."
When both had left the cabin Lord Fordingbridge turned to his wife who
still sat, as she had done from the beginning of Mr. Archibald's
remarks, indifferent and motionless as though in no way interested in
what had passed, and exclaimed:
"You hear, madam, the circumstances in which I return to my own. 'Tis
not too agreeable, I protest. We are Roman Catholics, yet we come as
Protestants, Jacobites, yet under the garb and mask of Hanoverians.
And in our train a Jesuit priest, arch-plotter, and schemer, who
passes as a respectable Scotch merchant. A sorry home coming, indeed!"
"If such duplicity is painful to your lordship's mind," his wife
remarked, "'twould almost have been best to have remained in exile.
Then you would have been safe, at least, and have done no outrage to
your--conscience. And, later, when those who are fighting for Prince
Charles have re-established him upon his grandfather's throne--if they
ever do!--you could have declared yourself without fear of
consequences."
No word, nor tone of her sneer was lost upon Lord Fordingbridge, and
he turned savagely upon her.
"Have a care, my lady," he exclaimed, "have a care. There are ways in
my power you little dream of by which if your defiance----"
"Defiance!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Defiance! You dare to use that
term to me. You!"
"Ay! Defiance. What! Shall the daughter of Doyle Fane, the broken-down
Irish adventurer, the master of the fence school in the Rue Trousse
Vache, flout and gibe me--the man who took her from a garret and made
her a lady--a peeress. I--I--"
"Yes!" she replied. "You! You--who have earned for ever her undying
hatred by doing so; by making her a lady by lies, by intriguing, by
duplicity. A lady! Yet your wife! Had you left me in the Rue Trousse
Vache--in the garret over the fence school--whose wife should I have
been now? Answer that, Simeon Larpent, answer that."
"The wife of a man," he said, quietly and calm again in a moment, for
he had the power to allay the tempestuous gusts that overtook him
occasionally almost as quickly as they arose, "who, if the fates are
not more propitious than I deem they will be, rides at the present
moment to his doom, to a halter that awaits him. A man who rides on a
fruitless journey to England as volunteer with his cousin Balmerino in
the train of Charles Edward; a man----"
"Whom," she interrupted again, "I loved with my whole heart and soul;
whom I loved from the first hour my eyes ever gazed on him. A man whom
you separated me from with your Jesuitical lies--they did well to
educate you at Lisbon and St. Omer--a man who, if God is just, as I do
believe, shall yet live to take a desperate vengeance on you. And for
the reason that he may do so, I pray night and day that Charles Edward
will fight his way to London. Then you must meet--unless you flee back
to France again--then, Lord Fordingbridge, you must stand face to face
with him at last. Then----"
"Then you trust to be a widow. Is it not so, my lady? You will be free
then, and Bertie Elphinston may have the bride I stole from him. Is
that your devout aspiration?"
"Alas, no!" she replied. "Or, if it is, it can never come to pass. If
Bertie Elphinston saw me now he would shrink from me. He would not
touch my hand. He would pass across the street to avoid me."
As she uttered the last words there came from over the swirling,
troubled sea the boom of a cannon, accompanied a moment afterwards by
harsh cries and orders from the deck of the Galliot, and by the
rattling of cordage and a sudden cessation of the slight way that was
still on the vessel.
"What does that gun mean?" asked Lord Fordingbridge as he started to
his feet, while Fane and Mr. Archibald re-entered the cabin hastily.
"It means," said the disguised Jesuit, who spoke as coolly and calmly
as ever, "that the vessel which has been following us since dawn is
King George's--he forgot on this occasion to term the English king
'the Elector of Hanover'--Bomb-ketch the 'Furnace.' She has fired the
gun to bring us to. Doubtless they wish to inspect our papers and to
see there are no malignant priests or Jacobites on board. We are now
in English waters and within two miles of Harwich, therefore they are
quite within their rights."
"Bah!" exclaimed his lordship. "Let them come. What have we to fear?"
"Nothing whatever," replied Mr. Archibald. "The Viscount Fordingbridge
is an accession to the usurper's Whig peers; a harmless Irish
gentleman, such as Mr. Doyle Fane, and a simple Scotch merchant, such
as I, can do no harm. While for her ladyship here----"
"Come, come on deck," said his lordship, "and let us see what is
doing. Will it please you to remain here, my lady?" he asked, turning
to his wife with an evil glance in his eye.
"Yes," she replied, "if they wish to see me I shall be found here."
The sea had abated considerably by now, so that already a boat had
been lowered from the ketch, which was not more than five cables
length from the Galliot by the time they reached the deck. It was
manned by a dozen sailors while an officer sat in the stern sheets,
and the brawny arms of the men soon brought it alongside. Then, while
the seamen kept the boat off the Galliot with their hands and oars,
the officer seized the man-ropes thrown over to him, and easily sprang
up the accommodation ladder on to the deck.
"What vessel is this?" he asked fiercely of the captain, "and what
passengers do you carry?"
"It is the Bravermann, of Rotterdam, sir," the young captain replied,
"chartered at Calais to bring his lordship and wife with two other
passengers to Dover. We are blown off our course, however, and----"
"Where are these passengers?" asked the officer.
"Here is one," said Lord Fordingbridge, coming forward, "and here two
others whom I have accommodated with a passage. Her ladyship is in the
cabin."
"Your papers, if you please."
His lordship produced from his pocket two large documents, duly signed
by the English ambassador and countersigned by the first secretary of
the Legation, while to them was also affixed a stamp of the Mairie;
and the lieutenant, for such he was, glanced over them, compared the
description of the viscount with that of the person before him, and
then said he must see her ladyship.
"Come this way then," the other replied, and led him into the cabin.
"My lady," he said to his wife, "this gentleman wishes to compare you
with your description on our passports."
Very calmly Lady Fordingbridge turned her eyes on the lieutenant as
he, touching his hat to her, glanced at the paper and retired saying
he was satisfied. Then, turning to the others, he said, "Now your
passports, quick."
Fane and Mr. Archibald also passed his scrutiny, though once he looked
under his eyelids at the latter as if to make sure he was the man
whose description he held in his hand, and then their passports were
also returned to them.
"Let me see over the ship and also her papers," he said to the
captain, and when this was done he seemed satisfied that his duty had
been performed.
"You may proceed," he said. "Call the boat away," and with such scant
ceremony he went to the ship's side and prepared to re-embark in his
own cutter.
"Pardon me," exclaimed the viscount, stopping him, "but we have heard
strange rumours in Paris of a landing effected in Scotland by the
Prince of--the person known as the Young Pretender. Also we have heard
he has reached Edinburgh and been joined by many persons of position
in Scotland, and that an English army has set forth to oppose his
further march. Can you tell me, sir, if this is true?"
"I know nothing whatever on the subject," replied the lieutenant,
curtly as usual. "His Majesty's land forces concern us not; our
account is on the sea. And our duty is to search all unknown vessels
proceeding to England to see that they bear neither Jacobites,
pestilential priests, arms, nor money with them. Is the boat there?"
Hearing that she had again come alongside, having kept off the Galliot
to prevent her being stowed in, he descended swiftly to her without
deigning to award the slightest salute to anyone on board. But as his
men pulled off he saw the face of Lady Fordingbridge gazing out from
the cabin porthole, and raised his hat to her.
"Yet," said Mr. Archibald to the viscount, as they sat once more in
the cabin while the vessel now entered smooth water and drew close in
to Harwich, "whatever his duty may be he has not been wondrous happy
in carrying it out. For there are Jacobites, a pestilential priest,
and money for the cause all in this ship together, arms alone being
wanting. Faugh! he was a rough sea-dog, yet none too good a setter.
Well, well. Perhaps in this town we may glean some news."