MORE DISCOVERIES
All that morning I pondered over the devious lane of my life, which had
led up to so fair a garden. And one thing above all kept turning and
turning in my head, until I thought I should die of waiting for its
fulfilment. Now was I free to ask Dorothy to marry me, to promise her
the ease and comfort that had once been hers, should God bring us safe
back to Maryland. The change in her was little less than a marvel to me,
when I remembered the wilful miss who had come to London bent upon
pleasure alone. Truly, she was of that rare metal which refines, and
then outshines all others. And there was much I could not understand.
A miracle had saved her from the Duke of Chartersea, but why she had
refused so many great men and good was beyond my comprehension. Not a
glimpse of her did I get that day, though my eyes wandered little from
the knob of the door. And even from Aunt Lucy no satisfaction was to be
had as to the cause of her absence.
"'Clare to goodness, Marse Dick," said she, with great solemnity, "'clare
to goodness, I'se nursed Miss Dolly since she was dat high, and neber one
minnit obher life is I knowed what de Chile gwine t' do de next. She
ain't neber yit done what I calcelated on."
The next morning, after the doctor had dressed my wounds and bantered me
to his heart's content, enters Mr. Marmaduke Manners. I was prodigiously
struck by the change in him, and pitied him then near as much as I had
once despised him. He was arrayed in finery, as of old. But the finery
was some thing shabby; the lace was frayed at the edges, there was a neat
but obvious patch in his small-clothes, and two more in his coat. His
air was what distressed me most of all, being that of a man who spends
his days seeking favours and getting none. I had seen too many of the
type not to know the sign of it.
He ran forward and gave me his hand, which I grasped as heartily as my
weakness would permit.
"They would not let me see you until to-day, my dear Richard," he
exclaimed. "I bid you welcome to what is left of our home. 'Tis not
Arlington Street, my lad."
"But more of a home than was that grander house, Mr. Manners."
He sighed heavily.
"Alas!" said he, "poverty is a bitter draught, and we have drunk deep of
it since last we beheld you. My great friends know me no more, and will
not take my note for a shilling. They do not remember the dinners and
suppers I gave them. Faith, this war has brought nothing but misery,
and how we are to get through it, God knows!"
Now I understood it was not the war, but Mr. Marmaduke himself, which had
carried his family to this pass. And some of my old resentment
rekindled.
"I know that I have brought you great additional anxiety and expense,
Mr. Manners," I answered somewhat testily. "The care I have been to Mrs.
Manners and Dorothy I may never repay. But it gives me pleasure to feel,
sir, that I am in a position to reimburse you, and likewise to loan you
something until your lands begin to pay again."
"There the Carvel speaks," he cried, "and the true son of our generous
province. You can have no conception of the misfortunes come to me out
of this quarrel. The mortgages on my Western Shore tobacco lands are
foreclosed, and Wilmot House itself is all but gone. You well know, of
course, that I would do the same by you, Richard."
I smiled, but more in sadness than amusement. Hardship had only degraded
Mr. Marmaduke the more, and even in trouble his memory was convenient as
is that of most people in prosperity. I was of no mind to jog his
recollection. But I wanted badly to ask about his Grace. Where had my
fine nobleman been at the critical point of his friend's misfortunes?
For I had had many a wakeful night over that same query since my talk
with McAndrews.
"So you have come to your own again, Richard, my lad," said Mr.
Marmaduke, breaking in upon my train. "I have felt for you deeply, and
talked many a night with Margaret and Dorothy over the wrong done you.
Between you and me," he whispered, "that uncle of yours is an arrant
knave, whom the patriots have served with justice. To speak truth, sir,
I begin myself to have a little leaning to that cause which you have so
bravely espoused."
This time I was close to laughing outright. But he was far too serious
to remark my mirth. He commenced once more, with an ahem, which gave me
a better inkling than frankness of what bothered him.
"You will have an agent here, Richard, I take it," said he. "Your
grandfather had one. Ahem! Doubtless this agent will advance you all
you shall have need of, when you are well enough to see him. Fact is,
he might come here."
"You forget, Mr. Manners, that I am a pirate and an outlaw, and that you
are the shielder of such."
That thought shook the pinch of Holland he held all over him. But he
recovered.
"My dear Richard, men of business are of no faction and of no nation.
Their motto is discretion. And to obtain the factorship in London of a
like estate to yours one of them would wear a plaster over his mouth,
I'll warrant you. You have but to summon one of the rascals, promise him
a bit of war interest, and he will leave you as much as you desire, and
nothing spoken."
"To talk plainly, Mr. Manners," I replied, "I think 'twould be the height
of folly to resort to such means. When I am better, we shall see what
can be done."
His face plainly showed his disappointment.
"To be sure," he said, in a whining tone, "I had forgotten your friends,
Lord Comyn and Mr. Fox. They may do something for you, now you own your
estate. My dear sir, I dislike to say aught against any man. Mrs.
Manners will tell you of their kindness to us, but I vow I have not been
able to see it. With all the money at their command they will not loan
me a penny in my pressing need. And I shame to say it, my own daughter
prevents me from obtaining the money to keep us out of the Fleet. I know
she has spoken to Dulany. Think of it, Richard, my own daughter, upon
whom I lavished all when I had it, who might have made a score of grand
matches when I gave her the opportunity, and now we had all been rolling
in wealth. I'll be sworn I don't comprehend her, nor her mother either,
who abets her. For they prefer to cook Maryland dainties for a living,
to put in the hands of the footmen of the ladies whose houses they once
visited. And how much of that money do you suppose I get, sir? Will you
believe it that I--" (he was shrieking now), "that I, the man of the
family, am allowed only my simple meals, a farthing for snuff, and not a
groat for chaise-hire? At my age I am obliged to walk to and from their
lordships' side entrances in patched clothes, egad, when a new suit might
obtain us a handsome year's income!"
I turned my face to the wall, completely overcome, and the tears scalding
in my eyes, at the thought of Dorothy and her mother bending over the
stove cooking delicacies for their livelihood, and watching at my bedside
night and day despite their weariness of body. And not a word out of
these noble women of their sacrifice, nor of the shame and trouble and
labour of their lives, who always had been used to every luxury! Nothing
but cheer had they brought to the sickroom, and not a sign of their
poverty and hardship, for they knew that their broths and biscuit and
jellies must have choked me. No. It remained for this contemptible
cur of a husband and father to open my eyes.
He had risen when I had brought myself to look at him. And as I hope for
heaven he took my emotion for pity of himself.
"I have worried you enough for one day with my troubles, my lad," said
he. "But they are very hard to bear, and once in a while it does me good
to speak of them."
I did not trust myself to reply.
It was Aunt Lucy who spent the morning with me, and Mrs. Manners brought
my dinner. I observed a questioning glance as she entered, which I took
for an attempt to read whether Mr. Marmaduke had spoke more than he
ought. But I would have bitten off my tongue rather than tell her of my
discoveries, though perhaps my voice may have betrayed an added concern.
She stayed to talk on the progress of the war, relating the gallant
storming of Stony Point by Mad Anthony in July, and the latest Tory
insurrection on our own Eastern Shore. She passed from these matters to
a discussion of General Washington's new policy of the defensive, for
Mrs. Manners had always been at heart a patriot. And whilst I lay
listening with a deep interest, in comes my lady herself. So was it
ever, when you least expected her, even as Mammy had said. She curtseyed
very prettily, with her chin tilted back and her cheeks red, and asked me
how I did.
"And where have you been these days gone, Miss Will-o'the-Wisp, since the
doctor has given me back my tongue?" I cried.
"I like you better when you are asleep," says she. "For then you are
sometimes witty, though I doubt not the wit is other people's."
So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night. For I
slept like a trooper after a day's forage. As to what I might have said
in my dreams--that thought made me red as an apple.
"Dorothy, Dorothy," says her mother, smiling, "you would provoke a
saint."
"Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner," replies the minx, with
a little face at me. "Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of an
audience from your Excellency."
"A gentleman!"
"Even so. He presents a warrant from your Excellency's physician."
With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her. And who should
come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn? He made one rush at me,
and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear's hug.
"Oh, Richard," cried he, when he had released me, "I give you my oath
that I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there.
But they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that
now. 'Tis love is curing you, my lad."
He held me off at arm's length, the old-time affection beaming from his
handsome face.
"What am I to say to you, Jack?" I answered. And my voice was all but
gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of
the legion I owed him. "How am I to piece words enough together to thank
you for this supreme act of charity?"
"'Od's, you may thank your own devilish thick head," said my Lord Comyn.
"I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her. Had
it not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out
of that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?"
I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail.
"And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have
done her?" I said.
He laughed, and pinched me playfully.
"Now are you coming to your senses," said he. "There was cursed little
to the enterprise, Richard, and that's the truth. I got down to Dover,
and persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam. That
was not so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe
enough in the Texel. In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped,
and set off at the devil's pace for the Texel. You must know that the
whole Dutch nation was in an uproar--as much of an uproar as those boors
ever reach--over the arrival of your infamous squadron. The Court Party
and our ambassador were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans
for making you at home. I heard that their High Mightinesses had given
Paul Jones the use of the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners,
and thither I ran. And I was even cursing the French sentry at the
drawbridge in his own tongue, when up comes your commodore himself.
You may quarter me if wasn't knocked off my feet when I recognized the
identical peacock of a sea-captain we had pulled out of Castle Yard
along with you, and offered a commission in the Royal Navy."
"Dolly hadn't told you?"
"Dolly tell me!" exclaimed his Lordship, scornfully. "She was in a state
to tell me nothing the morning I left, save only to bring you to England
alive, and repeat it over and over. But to return to your captain,--he,
too, was taken all aback. But presently he whipt out my name, and I his,
without the Jones. And when I told him my errand, he wept on my neck,
and said he had obtained unlimited leave of absence for you from the
Paris commissioners. He took me up into a private room in the fort,
where you were; and the surgeon, who was there at the time, said that
your chances were as slim as any man's he had ever seen. Faith, you
looked it, my lad. At sight of your face I took one big gulp, for I had
no notion of getting you back to her. And rather than come without you,
and look into her eyes, I would have drowned myself in the Straits of
Dover.
"Despite the host of troubles he had on his hands, your commodore himself
came with us to Rotterdam. Now I protest I love that man, who has more
humanity in him than most of the virtuous people in England who call him
hard names. If you could have seen him leaning over you, and speaking to
you, and feeling every minute for your heart-beats, egad, you would have
cried. And when I took you off to the schooner, he gave me an hundred
directions how to care for you, and then his sorrow bowled him all in a
heap."
"And is the commodore still at the Texel?" I asked, after a space.
"Ay, that he is, with our English cruisers thick as gulls outside'
waiting for a dead fish. But he has spurned the French commission they
have offered him, saying that of the Congress is good enough for him.
And he declares openly that when he gets ready he will sail out in the
Alliance under the Stars and Stripes. And for this I honour him," added
he, "and Charles honours him, and so must all Englishmen honour him when
they come to their senses. And by Gads life, I believe he will get
clear, for he is a marvel at seamanship."
"I pray with all my heart that he may," said I, fervently.
"God help him if they catch him!" my Lord exclaimed. "You should see
the bloody piratical portraits they are scattering over London."
"Has the risk you ran getting me into England ever occurred to you,
Jack?" I asked, with some curiosity.
"Faith, not until the day after we got back, Richard," says he, "when I
met Mr. Attorney General on the street. 'Sdeath, I turned and ran the
other way like the devil was after me. For Charles Fox vows that
conscience makes cowards of the best of us."
"So that is some of Charles's wisdom!" I cried, and laughed until I was
forced to stop from pain.
"Come, my hearty," says Jack, "you owe me nothing for fishing you out of
Holland--that is her debt. But I declare that you must one day pay me
for saving her for you. What! have I not always sworn that she loved
you? Did I not pull you into the coffee-room of the Star and Garter
years ago, and tell you that same?"
My face warmed, though I said nothing.
"Oh, you sly dog! I'll warrant there has been many a tender talk just
where I'm sitting."
"Not one," said I.
"'Slife, then, what have you been doing," he cries, "seeing her every day
and not asking her to marry you, my master of Carvel Hall?"
"Since I am permitted to use my tongue, she has not come near me, save
when I slept," I answered ruefully.
"Nor will she, I'll be sworn," says he, shaken with laughter.
"'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her
unawares."
I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me.
"And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard," he said, in another
tone, "I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how
these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined
of her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her
to take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook
Street without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself
by the sight of her devotion."
What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it!
"When the crash came," he continued, "'twas she took command, and 'tis
God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed to
the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only
snuff-money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another debt,
and even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she
receive aught from us, but" (he glanced at me uneasily)--"but she and
Mrs. Manners must take to cooking delicacies--"
"Yes, yes, I know," I faltered.
"What! has the puppy told you?" cried he.
I nodded. "He was in here this morning, with his woes."
"And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend,
his Grace of Chartersea?"
"He tried to sell her again?" I cried, my breath catching. "I have
feared as much since I heard of their misfortunes."
"Yes," replied Comyn, "that was the first of it. 'Twas while they were
still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew.
Mr. Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside
the duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street
for the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then,
Charles having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea
the whole of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And
when the servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts
him.
"'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she.
"He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When
she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke,
who was trotting after.
"'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say is
for his Grace's ear alone.'
"Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard," my
Lord concluded, "but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For
in a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he has
never darkened the door since. And the cream of it is," said Comyn,
"that her father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me
to sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence."
"And stranger confidants," I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of
Courtenay's letter, long ago.
But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The
picture in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very
words she must have used were ringing in my ears.
Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty voice
cried out:
"Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in
this house. 'Slife, I must have at him!"
"Mr. Fox!" I exclaimed.
He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me.
"For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles," said he.
I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye
was caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They
were frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with
some new grandeur come upon the man.
"Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?" I
cried.
He smiled, with his old boyish smile.
"You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to
Holland House--do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?"
"Remember it!" I repeated, with emphasis, "I'll warrant I can give you
every bit of our talk."
"I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most
damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so
blunt and uncompromising. But you took my fancy--God knows why!--that
first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you
when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have
not forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the
grass. Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!" he said, and
sighed.
"And yet you were a Junior Lord," I said.
"Which is more than I am now," he answered. "Somehow--you may laugh
--somehow I have never been able to shake off the influence of your words,
Richard. Your cursed earnestness scared me."
"Scared you?" I cried, in astonishment.
"Just that," said Charles. "Jack will bear witness that I have said
so to Dolly a score of times. For I had never imagined such a single
character as yours. You know we were all of us rakes at fifteen,
to whom everything good in the universe was a joke. And do you recall
the teamster we met by the Park, and how he arrested his salute when he
saw who it was? At another time I should have laughed over that, but it
cut me to have it happen when you were along."
"And I'll lay an hundred guineas to a farthing the fellow would put his
head on the block for Charles now," cut in his Lordship, with his hand on
Mr. Fox's shoulder. "Behold, O Prophet," he cried, "one who is become
the champion of the People he reviled! Behold the friend of Rebellion
and 'Lese Majeste', the viper in Britannia's bosom!"
"Oh, have done, Jack," said Mr. Fox, impatiently, "you have no more music
in your soul than a cow. Damned little virtue attaches to it, Richard,"
he went on. "North threw me out, and the king would have nothing to do
with me, so I had to pick up with you rebels and traitors."
"You will not believe him, Richard," cried my Lord; "you have only to
look at him to see that he lies. Take note of the ragged uniform of the
rebel army he carries, and then think of him 'en petite maitre', with his
cabriolet and his chestnuts. Egad, he might be as rich as Rigby were it
not for those principles which he chooses to deride. And I have seen him
reduced to a crown for them. I tell you, Richard," said my Lord, "by
espousing your cause Charles is become greater than the King. For he
has the hearts of the English people, which George has not, and the
allegiance of you Americans, which George will never have. And if you
once heard him, in Parliament, you should hear him now, and see the
Speaker wagging his wig like a man bewitched, and hear friends and
enemies calling out for him to go on whenever he gives the sign of a
pause."
This speech of his Lordship's may seem cold in the writing, my dears,
and you who did not know him may wonder at it. It had its birth in an
admiration few men receive, and which in Charles Fox's devoted coterie
was dangerously near to idolatry. During the recital of it Charles
walked to the window, and there stood looking out upon the gray prospect,
seemingly paying but little attention. But when Comyn had finished, he
wheeled on us with a smile.
"Egad, he will be telling you next that I have renounced the devil and
all his works, Richard," said he.
"'Oohs, that I will not," his Lordship made haste to declare. "For they
were born in him, and will die with him."
"And you, Jack," I asked, "how is it that you are not in arms for the
King, and commanding one of his frigates?"
"Why, it is Charles's fault," said my Lord, smiling. "Were it not for
him I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast
towns."