"FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE."
That song in the old days in the Rue Trousse-Vache had been the air
which Bertie Elphinston had whistled many a time to Kate to let her
know that he was about to enter the "_salle d'escrime_," or to make
her look out of the window and see the flowers he had brought her from
his mother's garden in the suburbs. Also, on a Sunday morning early,
he had often stood beneath the window of her room and had piped the
"Rigadoon" to remind her that it was time for them to be away for
their day's outing. For in those happy times--alas! but a year
ago--these two fond, happy lovers had spent every Sabbath together and
alone. Arm in arm the whole day; or, when the soft summer nights fell
over the Bois de Boulogne, or the woods of St. Germain or the Forest
of Fontainebleau, his arm round her waist and her soft fair head upon
his shoulder, they had wandered together, taking a light meal here and
there at any roadside _auberge_ they happened on, and then both going
back to supper, at her father's little house, where, as they had done
all day, they talked of the future that was before them.
And now the future had come and they were parted for ever! No wonder
that the old French song which had found its way to England grated
harshly on their ears.
"Thank God, 'tis finished," he said, as the orchestra struck up a
dance tune next. "For us, to our hearts, it awakens memories best left
to slumber for ever." Then sitting down by her side on the rustic
bench, he continued: "Kate, you wrote in your letter to me," and he
touched his breast involuntarily as he spoke, so that she knew he bore
it about him, "that there was private treachery to be feared. Is it to
be feared from him?"
"Alas!" she whispered, "I almost dread 'tis so. He is not satisfied
yet; he----"
"He should be! He has all I wanted."
"To injure you," she continued, "would be, as he knows, the best way
to strike at me."
"To strike at you?"
"Yes, to repay me for my scorn and contempt--my hate of him."
"You hate him!" he exclaimed.
"From the depths of my heart. How can it be otherwise? His
treachery--when I learnt it--made me despise him; his conduct since
has turned my contempt to hatred. Oh," she exclaimed, "it is awful,
terrible for a woman to hate her husband! Yet what cause have I to do
aught else? When he speaks--though I have long since ceased to reply
to anything he says--his words are nothing but sneers and scorn;
sometimes of you, sometimes of me. And he gloats over having separated
us, of having taken your place, while at the same time he is so bitter
against me that, if he dared, I believe he would kill me. Moreover, he
fears your vengeance. That is another reason why, if he could betray
you to the Government, he would."
"'Tis by betrayal alone that we can be injured," Bertie said,
thoughtfully. "None of our names are known, nor in the proscribed
list. Yet how can he do it? He it was who planned the attack upon the
Fubbs[2] to be made when the Elector crossed from Holland; he who
disseminated the tracts, nay, had them printed, counselling his taking
off. He was worse than any--no honest Jacobite ever stooped to
assassination!--and many of us know it."
"Be sure," she replied, "that what he could do would be done in
secret; Bert--Mr. Elphinston, who is that man who has passed the
arbour twice or more, and looks always so fixedly at you?"
"I know not," he replied, "yet he has been ever near Douglas and
me--he and another man--since we entered the gardens. Perhaps a
Government spy. Well, he can know nought of me."
The man she had mentioned was a tall, stoutly-built individual,
plainly enough clad in an old rusty black suit of broadcloth, patched
black stockings and thick-soled shoes with rusty iron buckles upon
them, and bore at his side a stout hanger. He might be a spy, it was
true, but he might also have been anything else, a low follower of the
worst creatures who infested the gardens, a gambling-hell tout, or a
bagnio pimp. Yet his glance from under his vizard was keen and
penetrating as it was fixed on them, but especially on Elphinston,
each time he passed the summer house wherein they sat.
But now their conversation, which to both seemed all too short and to
have left so much unsaid, was interrupted by the advent of Douglas
Sholto, who came swiftly down the shell-strewn path, and, seeing them
in the arbour, paused and entered at once.
"Kitty," he said, grasping her hand, "this is not the greeting I had
intended to give you, though it's good to look upon your bonnie face
again. But, Bertie, listen. We are watched, followed, perhaps known;
indeed, I am sure of it. One of those fellows who have kept near to
us, and whom we saw at Wandsworth as we set forth--I see the other
down the path--spoke but now to three soldiers of the Coldstreams.
Perhaps 'twas to identify us; you remember the First Battalion at
Culloden," he added grimly; "perhaps to call on them for help.
Bertie, we must be away at once."
"'Tis as I suspected," said Lady Fordingbridge, now pale as ashes and
trembling from head to foot. "My words have too soon come true. How,
how has he done it?"
"Farewell, Kate," said Bertie Elphinston, "we must, indeed, hasten if
this is true. Yet first let me take you to your father and friends.
Then," with a firm set look on his face, he said, "Douglas and I must
see our way through this, if 'tis as he suspects. Come, Kate."
"No, no," she said, imploringly. "Wait not to think of me. Begone
while there is yet time. Lose no moment. Farewell, farewell. We may
meet again yet."
But ere another word could be said a fresh interruption occurred. From
either end of the path that ran between the arbour and the lawn, both
spies--for such they soon proclaimed themselves--advanced to where the
others were; the first, the one of whom Kate had spoken, coming back
from the end by the bosquet, the other from the platform where the
orchestra and dancing were. And in the deepening twilight, for it was
now almost dark, the three soldiers of the Coldstreams came too,
followed by two others belonging to the "Old Buffs," a regiment also
just brought back to London after Falkirk and Culloden. And behind
these followed a small knot of visitors to the gardens who had gleaned
that there was something unusual taking place, or about to do so.
"Your names," said the first man, who had kept watch over the
movements of Elphinston, as he came close to the two comrades, while
his own companion and the soldiers also drew very near, "are, if I
mistake riot, Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto. Is that the case?"
"My friend," said the former, "I would bid you have a care how you ask
persons unknown to you, and to whom you are unknown, what their names
are. It is a somewhat perilous proceeding to take liberties with
strangers thus."
"You are not persons unknown to me. I can give a full description of
your actions during the last year, which would cause you to be torn
limb from limb by the people in this garden. As it is, I require you
to go with us to the nearest magistrate, where I shall swear an
information against you, and----"
"By what process," asked Douglas Sholto, "do you propose to carry out
your requirements? By your own efforts, perhaps?"
"By our own efforts, aided by those of five soldiers here, of several
others now in the Spring Gardens, and by the general company herein
assembled, if necessary. But come, sirs, we trifle time away. Will you
come, or won't you?"
For answer Douglas Sholto dealt the man such a blow with his fist that
he fell back shrieking that his jaw was broken; while his comrade,
calling on the soldiers for aid in the name of the King against rebels
who had fought at Culloden, hurled himself on Elphinston, with his
sword drawn and in his hand. But the latter, drawing from his back the
long lean-bladed axe, presented so formidable an appearance, that the
other shrank back appalled, though he called on the soldiers still for
assistance.
"Beware," said Elphinston, as he ranged himself by the side of his
friend, "beware! We are not men to be played with, and, as sure as
there's a heaven above, if any of you come within swing of my arm,
I'll lop your heads off!"
"The hound fought at Culloden; I saw him there," said one of the
Coldstreams. "By heavens, I'll attempt it on him if he had fifty
axes," and so saying he sprang full at the young Scotchman. As he
came, the latter might have cleft his head open from scalp to chin,
but he was a soldier himself; and the other had not drawn the short
sword he wore at his side ere he flew at him. Therefore, he only
seized him by the throat as he would have seized a mad bull-dog that
attacked him, and in a minute had hurled the fellow back among the
others. But now all the soldiers as well as the two police agents had
had time to draw their weapons, and seven gleaming blades were
presented at the breasts of the two young men when a timely assistance
arrived.
Sir Charles Ames burst through the crowd on the outskirts of the
antagonists, his own bright court rapier flashing in the air, and
following him came Mr. Wynn and Doyle Fane, also with their weapons
drawn.
"For shame! For shame!" said Sir Charles. "Five great hulking soldiers
and two others against two men. Put up your weapons, or we'll make
you."
"Put up your own," said one of the Old Buffs; "they are rebels. Curse
them! We have met before," and as he spoke he lunged full at the
breast of Elphinston.
"Hoot!" said Fane, the spirit of the old swordsman, the old Irishman,
aroused at this, "if it's for tilting, my boys, come along. It's a
pretty dance I'll teach ye. There, now, look to that." And with the
easiest twist of his wrist he parried the soldier's thrust at
Elphinston, with another he had slit the sleeve of the man's uniform
to the elbow, while a thin line of blood ran quickly out from his arm.
"My word," he continued, "I've always said the worst hands in the
world with a sword were soldiers--of these present days. Your mother's
broom handles would suit ye better," whereon he turned his point
towards another.
Meanwhile Sir Charles Ames had placed himself by Bertie and Douglas,
and had already exchanged several passes with the others, when,
stepping back a moment into the arbour, he saw to his intense
astonishment the figure of Kitty, she being in a swoon, and
consequently unconscious.
"Lady Fordingbridge," he murmured, "Lady Fordingbridge. So, so! A
little assignation with our rebel friends. Humph! I'd scarce have
thought it of her. However, 'tis no affair of mine, and as she's Molly
Belrose's friend, why, I must be the same to her friends." Whereon he
again took his place alongside the two Jacobites and assisted at
keeping the others at bay.
But the crowd still augmented in their neighbourhood, and while the
soldiers--all of whom had of late fought in Flanders as well as
Scotland, and were as fierce as their chief, Cumberland--were pressing
the others hardly, some of the livelier masqueraders began to feel
disposed to assist one side or another. Therefore, 'twas almost a riot
that now prevailed in the Spring Gardens; and as among the company
there were numerous other Jacobites, who, although they had probably
not been out with Charles Stuart, were very keen in their sympathies
with his cause, they took the opportunity of joining the fracas on
their own account and of breaking the heads of several Hanoverian
supporters. And also, gathering that the scene arose from the
attempted apprehension of two of their own leaning, they gradually
directed their way towards the arbour where the affray had
begun--summarily knocking down or tripping up all who opposed them, so
that the next morning many shopboys, city clerks, and respectable city
puts themselves appeared at their places of business with broken
crowns, bruised faces, and black eyes.
At present nothing serious had occurred beyond a few surface wounds
given on either side; the soldiers and police agents were no match for
the five skilful swordsmen to whom they were opposed, and the latter
refrained from shedding the blood of men beneath them.
"Yet," said Sir Charles Ames to Mr. Wynn, while he wiped his face with
his lace-embroidered handkerchief, "if the canaille do not desist soon
I must pink one for the sake of my gentility. Wynn, where is Lady
Belrose during this pleasing interlude?"
"Safe in the supper room," replied the young beau. "She is very well.
I saw to that. Ames, who are these stalwart Highlanders whose cause we
espouse?"
"The devil himself only knows," replied the worldly exquisite. "Ha!
would you?" to one of the Coldstreams as he tried a pass at him. "Go
home, my man, go home. I know your colonel; you shall be whipped for
this. Yet," he whispered to his friend, "I do think these knocks are
_pour les beaux yeux de madame_. What's that shout?"
"The constables, I imagine."
"The more the merrier! Ha! Wynn, we are borne along the path. The
deuce take it, we have lost the shelter of the arbour!"
"For Heaven's sake," whispered Elphinston to the baronet, "as I see
you are a gentleman, go back and look to Lady Fordingbridge. I cannot
see her after to-night--sir, on your honour, tell her 'All is well.'
She will understand."
"On my honour, I will," the baronet replied. "London will be too hot
for you--perhaps for me, too. I do fear I'm a little of a Stuart
myself; but listen, my aunt, Lady Ames, lives at Kensington, by the
Gravel Pits; direct a letter to--to the fair one, under cover to my
respected relative, and she shall get it. Oh, no thanks, I beg; I have
my own _affaires de c[oe]ur_. I know, I know----"
And now the _mêlée_ became more general, and gradually the partisans
of both sides were borne asunder, two only keeping together, Bertie
and Douglas.
"Where is Fane?" whispered the former.
"With Kate. I saw him in the bower with her. Heaven grant----"
He was interrupted by a man who at this moment ranged himself
alongside them both, and who muttered, "Follow me, through the copse
here. There is an exit by which you can escape from the gardens. Back
yourselves to the copse as easily as you can, then watch my
movements."
"To leave her thus is impossible!" exclaimed Elphinston. "I cannot."
"Tush, nonsense!" replied Sholto, "her father is with her and our
dandy friends by now. Come, come, we can do better for her and all of
us by escaping than by being taken."
"But Fane; they will arrest him."
"If they do he has his answer. He was protecting his daughter. And her
position will assure his. Come, Bertie, come. Once outside, we can
seek new lodgings in another part of the town; put on new disguises.
Come."
All the time this colloquy had taken place they had still been
struggling with others, though by now the affray had lost the
sanguinary character it once threatened to possess. The soldiers and
the agents were separated from them by a mass of people, among whom
were many of their sympathisers; but none were using deadly weapons,
rather preferring buffeting and hustling than aught else. So that, as
the tall man entered another summer house and, dragging Sholto and
Elphinston after him, shut a door which guarded its entrance, the
thing was done so quickly that the two originals of the disturbance
had disappeared in the darkness ere they were missed.
"This," said the man, "is a private entrance and exit, reserved for
some very high and mighty personages whom I need not mention. They are
good patrons of ours--I am the proprietor's, Mr. Jonathan Tyers, chief
subordinate. Also a Scotchman like yourselves, or by now you would
probably have been taken. Hark to them!"
The people were howling outside, "Down with the rebels!" "Find the
Culloden dogs and cut them to pieces!" etc., the soldiers' voices
being heard the loudest of all, while in response many shouted,
"Charlie Stuart for aye!" and some bolder spirits shrieked a then
well-known song, "The Restoration," which had been originally composed
in honour of the return of Charles II.
"Come," said the tall man, "come, your safety is here." Wherewith he
opened another door in the back of the arbour and showed them a quiet
leafy lane which was entirely deserted. "There," he continued, "is your
way. Follow the grove in this direction, and 'twill bring you to
Kennington," and he pointed south; "the other leads to the river. Fare
ye well, and if you are both wise, quit London as soon as you have
changed your garments. For myself I must go round to the front
entrance; if I go back through the gardens I may be called to account
by the mob for your escape."
Upon which, and not waiting for his countrymen's thanks, he took
himself off quickly.
"Which way now, Bertie?" asked Douglas. "Wandsworth is done with.
Where to?"
"To Kensington. I, at least, must watch the square to see if Kate gets
safe back to her home."
"Then we go together. Only, what of these accursed clothes? We must
make shift to get rid of them."