by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER XXV
HOW THE MINIATURE OF LADY OXFORD CAME BY A MISCHANCE.
'I lent you the swiftest horse I have,' said Montague.
'It is just for that reason I am back before you,' replied Wogan.
Colonel Montague at once became punctilious to the last degree. Hestood correct in the stiffest attitude of military deportment. Aformal politeness froze the humanity out of his face.
'This makes me very ridiculous, Mr. Wogan,' he said in a tone ofdistaste. 'If you will pardon the remark, I was at some pains andperhaps a little risk to get you safe out of London. You accepted myservices, as it seemed, and yet here you are back in London! Indeedthis makes me very ridiculous.'
Mr. Wogan had quite forgotten that Colonel Montague was an Englishman,and so hated ridicule worse than the devil. He was briskly reminded ofthe fact, and having ruffled the gentleman's feelings, must now set towork to soothe them.
'It is very true, Colonel. My behaviour looks uncommonly like a breachof good taste. But it was not for the purpose of playing a trick onyou that I came back into danger, when I was safe upon the back ofyour beautiful horse. Sure, never have I ridden a nobler beast. Amouth of velvet, a leg tapered like a fine lady's finger, a coat--sir,I have seen the wonderful manufactures of Lyons. There never was silkso smooth or of so bright a gloss, as the noble creature's coat. Hespurned the earth, at each moment he threatened to float among theclouds. Sure, that horse was the original of Pegasus in a directdescent. A true horse, and more than a horse, a copy of all that isbest in England, an example of what is most English and therefore mostadmired, the true English military gentleman.'
'Mr. Wogan,' interrupted Montague, with a grim sort of smile, 'you arelikely to learn a little more particularly about the velvet mouth ofthe English military gentleman if you continue to praise his horse atthe expense of his sense. Will you tell me why you have come back?'
'You have a right to ask that, Colonel, but I have no right to answeryou. It is a private affair wherein others are concerned. I shouldhave remembered it before, but I did not. It only came into my mindwhen I was riding between the chestnut trees, and leaving my friendbehind me.'
Colonel Montague was silent for a little.
'In another man, Mr. Wogan, I should suspect an intention to meddlewith these plots. But I have no need to remind you that such aproceeding would not be fair to me. And if Mr. Kelly's concerns havebrought you back I cannot complain. Meanwhile how are you to liehidden? I cannot keep you here.'
'There are one or two earths, Colonel, which are not yet stopped, Ihave no doubt. I did but take the liberty to use your lodging until itgrew dark.'
The evening was falling while Wogan and Montague thus talked together.Wogan wrote a letter which he put into his pocket, and holding theends of his wig in his mouth, without any fear ran the hazard of thestreets.
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was that evening adorning herself for amasquerade in her house, when word was carried to her that LadyOxford's big lackey was below and had brought a letter. Lady Mary hadno sooner glanced at the superscription than she sent her maiddownstairs to bring the lackey immediately to her boudoir. Thither hecame without awaking suspicion in the servants, and found Lady Marysitting in front of her toilette, which was all lighted up withcandles, and the rest of the room dark.
Mr. Wogan remained in a dark corner by the door.
'You have a message from Lady Oxford,' said she, carelessly holdingout a hand as though to take a letter.
'By word of mouth, your ladyship,' replied Wogan in a disguised voice.
Lady Mary dismissed her maid and spoke in considerable heat:
'Colonel Montague told me you had escaped.'
'I have come back,' replied Wogan coolly, who had no reason to thinkhe had justly incurred Lady Mary's anger, and so made no account ofit.
'It is sheer madness,' she exclaimed, 'and yet no more mad than it isfor your friends to take precautions for your safety,' and she dabbeda patch on her cheek viciously. 'Why have you come back?'
'Your ladyship has not forgotten how some while ago Lady Oxford paidher losses at cards.'
Lady Mary raised her head from her mirror and looked at Wogan.
'With Mr. Kelly's winnings from the South Sea,' said she.
'Your ladyship was kind enough then to say that you would not countthe money yours.'
'I remember.'
'But would keep it, since you could not return it to George, untilsuch time as it could be used on his behalf.'
Lady Mary took a key from a drawer in her toilette and, unlocking acabinet in a corner of the room, showed Wogan a parcel of bills ofexchange lying amongst a heap of guineas.
'The moment for using it has come,' said Wogan.
'Take it, then,' said Lady Mary, who now asked for no explanations.
'No. It is only of use if your ladyship uses it.'
'How?'
Lady Mary went back to her toilette and busied herself with a numberof little silver pots and boxes, while Wogan disclosed his plan.
'George was taken last night in his lodging, as your ladyship is nodoubt aware. It is a large sum that Lady Oxford lost at cards, and alarge sum might perhaps bail George, if a trusted Whig were thesurety. He would have some few weeks of liberty, at all events.'
'Some few weeks that are like to cost you your life,' said Lady Mary,who was now grown friendly. 'It was to tell me this you came back. Ishould have guessed.'
'Madam, I shall never believe my life's in danger until I am dead,'replied Wogan, with a laugh.
'I will see what the money can do to-morrow,' said Lady Mary. 'Whereshall I have news of you? Or very likely I am to meet you atRanelagh?'
Wogan disclaimed any such bravado, and told her ladyship of a housewhere she might hear of him if she sent by night and if her messengerknocked in a particular way. To that house he now bent his steps, andstayed there that night and the next day. It was already dark when theparticular knock sounded on the door, and Mr. Wogan lifted a corner ofthe blind and peered down into the street. What he saw brought himdown the stairs in a single bound; he opened the door cautiously, andwho should slip in but the Parson.
'Nick!' said he, in a warm voice. His hand clasped Wogan's in thedark. 'Thanks, thanks!'
It appeared that Lady Mary, after seeing that George was bailed out,had told him that the notion of bailing him was none of hers.Moreover, in order to make sure Smilinda's letters were safe, Kellyhad gone as soon as he was released to Colonel Montague, who told himof Wogan's return to London and other matters of no importance, sothat he now wasted a great deal of time in superfluous compliments.'But you shall not lose your life on my account, Nick. Montague'shorse, which it seems you have taken a liking to,' he said, with asmile, 'will be waiting for you at twelve o'clock to-night at Dulwich,and in the same road; but, Nick, this time you will have to walk toDulwich. There is a warrant out for you. You can slip away with abetter chance on foot; and, Nick, this time you will not come back.Promise me that.'
Wogan promised readily enough.
'I brought the Colonel into some danger of suspicion by returningbefore,' he said. 'It is a strange thing, George, that, while ourfriends have left us in the lurch, we should owe, I my escape, youyour few weeks of liberty, to perfectly inveterate Whigs, though howyou came to an understanding with the Colonel is quite beyond me toimagine.'
'I will tell you that now, Nick, since you have an hour to spare;'and, going up to Wogan's room, Mr. Kelly related to him the story ofhis meeting with the Colonel in the Park, of the disturbance with theMessengers in his rooms, and of the saving of Smilinda, and how hislove for Rose urged him to it. It was eight o'clock when he had cometo an end. Mr. Wogan heard the clocks striking the hour.
'It will take me an hour to get to Dulwich,' he said, 'so I have threehours to spare. George, have you seen Rose?'
'No; but she knows that I am free, for Lady Mary sent the news toher.'
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p; 'That's a pity,' said Wogan, pursing his lips.
'On the contrary, it was not the least kind of Lady Mary's manykindnesses,' said George, who was astonished at Mr. Wogan's cruelty,that would have left the girl in her anxieties a moment longer thanwas necessary. 'Had she not heard the news till it was stale, shewould never have forgiven me--she that has forgiven me so much,' saidhe, with more sentiment than logic.
'Oh,' said Wogan, 'she has forgiven you so much? My young friend, youare very certain upon a very uncertain point. There's that littlematter of her ladyship's miniature.'
Mr. Kelly looked anxiously at Wogan.
'True,' said he; 'I told her a lie about it at Avignon, and made outit was the likeness of Queen Clementina.'
'The lie is the smallest part of the difficulty. She wore theminiature, and wore it in Lady Oxford's withdrawing-room. There's thetrouble, for there's the humiliation.'
'But, Nick,' said Kelly, 'she forgave it. Didn't I escort her to herchair? Didn't I feel her hand upon the sleeve of my coat?'
'Oh! she carried herself very bravely, never a doubt of that. For onething, you were in peril; and, to be sure, she will have kept a likingfor you at the worst of it. For another, Lady Oxford was there, andLady Oxford was not to win the day. My little friend Rose is a girl ofan uncommon spirit, and would hold her own against any woman, for allher modest ways. But, just because she has spirit, she will not meeklyforgive you. If you expect her to droop humbly on to your bosom, youare entirely in the wrong of it. 'Oons! but it must have been a hardblow to her pride when she found she was in Lady Oxford's house, andknew who Lady Oxford was, and had that miniature about her throat.Will she forgive you at all? The best you have to hope is that shewill be content with making your head sing. That she will do for asure thing; and I think--'
'What?' asked the Parson. The danger of life, the Messengers, theangry Colonel, had only raised his blood; the fear of Rose drove it tohis heart. He was now plainly scared.
'I think it was the greatest pity imaginable that Lady Mary sent wordto her you were free. For, d'ye see, if you had dropped upon Rosesuddenly, and she thinking you locked up in a dark prison and yourhead already loose upon your shoulders, why, you might have surprisedher into a forgetfulness of her pride; but now she will be preparedfor your coming. I think, George, I will walk along with you as far asSoho, since I have three hours to kick my heels in.'
'Will you, Nick?' cried George eagerly; and then, with his nose in theair, 'But I have no fears whatever. She is a woman in a thousand.' Hewas, none the less, evidently relieved when Wogan clapped his hat onhis head. The night was dark, and Wogan in his livery had no fears ofdetection.
The two men walked through by-streets until they came to Piccadilly.The Parson was nerving himself for the meeting, but would not allowthat he was in the least degree afraid. 'A trivial woman would thinkof nothing but her humiliation and her slight, but Rose is, as yousay, of an uncommon spirit, Nick,' he argued.
Nick, however, preserved a majestic silence, which daunted the Parson,who desired arguments to confute. They were by this time come intoBond Street, and Mr. Kelly, who must be talking, declared with a greatfervour, 'There are no limits to a woman's leniencies. Black errorsshe will pardon; charity is her father and her mother; she has aninfinity of forgiveness, wherefore with truth we place her among theangels.' Upon that text he preached most eloquently all the way upBond Street, past the New Building, until he came to the corner ofFrith Street in Soho. In Frith Street, all at once the Parson'sassurance was shown to be counterfeit. He caught at his friend's arm.
'Nick,' said he, in a quavering, humble voice, 'it is in Frith Streetshe lives. What am I to do at all? I am the most ignorant man, and acoward into the bargain. Nick, I have done the unpardonable thing.What am I to do now?'
Thus the Parson twittered in a most deplorable agitation. Mr. Wogan,on the contrary, was very calm. It was just in these littledifficulties, which require an intimate knowledge of the sex, that hefelt himself most at home. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
'Nick,' and George shook the arm he held, 'sure you can advise me. Youhave told me so often of your great comprehension of women. Sure, youknow all there is to be known about them, at all.'
'No, not quite all,' said Wogan, with a proper modesty. 'But here Ithink I can help you. Which is the house?'
Kelly pointed it out. A couple of windows shone very bright upon thedark street, a few feet above their heads. Looking upwards they couldsee the ceiling of the room and the globe of a lamp reflected on theceiling, but no more.
'It is in that room she will be sitting,' whispered the Parson.
'And waiting for you,' added Mr. Wogan grimly.
'And waiting for me,' repeated the Parson with a shiver.
They both stared for a little at the ceiling and the shadow of thelamp.
'Now, if the ceiling would only tell us something of her face,' saidKelly.
'It would be as well to have a look at her,' said Wogan. The streetwas quite deserted. 'Will you give me a back'?
The house was separated from the path by an iron railing a couple offeet from the wall. The Parson set his legs apart and steadied himselfby the railing, while Wogan climbed up and knelt on to his shoulders.In that position he was able to lean forward and catch hold of thesill. His forehead was on a level with the sill. By craning his neckhe could just look into the room.
'Is she there?' asked the Parson.
'Yes, and alone.'
'How does she look? Not in tears? Nick, don't tell me she's in tears.'The Parson's legs became unsteady at the mere supposition of such acalamity.
'Make yourself easy upon that point,' said Wogan, clinging for dearlife to the sill, 'there's never a trace of a tear about her at all.For your sake, George, I could wish that there was. Her eyes are asdry as a campaigner's biscuits. Oh, George, I am in despair for you.'
'Nick, you are the most consoling friend,' groaned the Parson, who nowwished for tears more than anything else in the world. 'What is shedoing?'
'Nothing at all. She is sitting at the table. George, have you evernoticed her chin? It is a sort of decisive chin, and upon my word,George, it has the ugliest jilting look that ever I saw. She has justthe same look in her big grey eyes, which are staring at nothing atall. Keep still, George, or you will throw me.'
For the Parson was become as uneasy as a restive horse.
'But, Nick, is she doing nothing at all? Is she reading?'
'No, she is doing nothing but expect you. But she is expecting you.Steady, for if I tumble off your shoulders the noise will bring her tothe windows.'
The menace had its effect. Mr. Kelly's limbs became pillars of marble,and Wogan again looked into the room.
'Wait a moment,' he said, 'I see what she is doing. She is staring atsomething she holds in her hands.'
'My likeness?' cried the Parson hopefully. 'To be sure it will bethat.'
'I will tell you in a moment. Hold on to the railings, George.'
George did as he was bid, and Wogan, still holding to the window-sillvery cautiously, stood up on his friend's shoulders. George, however,seemed quite insensible to Mr. Wogan's weight.
'It will be my likeness,' he repeated to himself. 'I had it done forher by Mr. Zincke. I was right, Nick; she has forgiven me altogether.'
Mr. Wogan's head was now well above the window-sill, and he lookeddownwards upon Rose, who sat at the table.
'Yes, it's a likeness,' said Nick.
'I told you. I told you,' said the Parson. The man began to wrigglewith satisfaction. 'You are wrong, Nick. You know nothing at all aboutwomen, after all. Come down, you vainglorious boaster.' It seemed hewas about to cut capers with Mr. Wogan on his shoulders.
'Wait,' said Nick suddenly, and hitched himself higher.
'Nick, she will see you.'
'No, she's occupied. George!'
'What is it?'
'It's Lady Oxford's miniature she is staring at, and not yours atall.'
The Parson grew quite
stiff and rigid.
'Are you sure?' he whispered, in an awe-stricken voice.
'I can see the diamonds flashing. 'Faith my friend, but I had donebetter to have let you throw them into the sea at Genoa.'
A groan broke from the Parson.
'Why didn't you, Nick? What am I to do now?'
'I can see the face. 'Tis the miniature of her ladyship that you gaveout to be Queen Clementina's. Did you ever meet Gaydon, George?' heasked curiously.
'Gaydon?' asked Kelly. 'What in the world has Gaydon to do with Rose?'
'Listen, and I'll inform you. He told my brother Charles a very prettystory of the Princess Clementina. It seems that when she escaped outof her perils and came to Bologna to marry the Chevalier, who had,just at the moment when he expected his bride, unaccountably retiredinto Spain, she stayed at Bologna, and so, picking up the gossip ofthe town, expressed a great desire to visit the Caprara Palace. 'Twasthere the lady lived who had consoled the Chevalier in his anxieties.No doubt he never expected the Princess to get out of the Emperor'sprison. But Charles got her out, and here was she at Bologna. To besure, the Princess was a most natural woman, eh? And when she came tothe Caprara Palace she asked to be shown the portrait of the Princessde la Caprara. That was more natural still. Gaydon describes how shelooked at the portrait, and describes very well. For sure Rose islooking at Lady Oxford's in just the same way.'
'That's good news, Nick,' said Kelly, grasping at a straw of comfort.'For the Princess Clementina forgave.'
'Ah, but there's a difference I did not remark at the first. Iremember Gaydon said the Princess turned very red, while your littlefriend Rose, on the contrary, is white to the edge of her lips. Sure,red forgives, when white will not. George,' and Mr. Wogan ducked hishead beneath the window-ledge, 'she is coming to the window! For thelove of mercy don't move, or she will hear!'
George pressed himself close to the railings. Wogan hunched himselfagainst the wall in the most precarious attitude. Would she open thewindow? Would she see them? Both men quaked as they asked themselvesthe question, though they had come thither for no other purpose but tosee her and be seen of her. Wogan threw a glance over his shoulder towhere the light of the window fell upon the road. But no shadowobscured it.
'Sure, she's not coming to the window at all,' said Nick.
'Oh, Nick,' whispered the Parson, 'you made my heart jump into mythroat.'
Wogan drew his head up level with the window again, and again ducked.
'She is standing looking towards the window with the likeness in herhand,' and he scrambled to the ground, where the pair of them stoodlooking at one another, and then to the house, and from the house downthe street. Wogan was the first to find his tongue.
'It is a monstrous thing,' said he, and he thumped his chest, 'that amere slip of a girl should frighten two grown men to death.'
Mr. Kelly thumped his chest too, but without any assurance.
'Nick, I must look for myself,' he said.
Footsteps sounded a little distance down the street, and soundedlouder the next moment. A man was approaching; they waited until hehad passed, and then Mr. Kelly climbed on to Wogan's shoulders, and inhis turn looked into the room.
'Nick!' he whispered in a voice of awe.
'What is she doing?'
'She has thrown Smilinda's likeness on the ground. She is stamping onit with her heel. She is grinding it all in pieces.'
'And the beautiful diamonds? Look if she picks them up, George!'
'No; she pays no heed to the stones. It is the likeness she thinks of.It was in pieces a moment ago; it is all powder now,' and he groaned.
'George, it is an ill business. When a woman spurns diamonds you maybe sure she is in a mortal fluster. It's a Gorgon you have to meet--averitable Gorgon.'
Mr. Kelly slid from Wogan's shoulders to the ground.
'What will I do, Nick?'
Nick bit his thumb, then threw his shoulders back.
'I am not afraid of her,' said he. 'No, I am not. I have done nothingto anger or humiliate her. I am not afraid of her at all--not theleast in the world. I will go in myself. I will beard her just to showyou I am not at all afraid of her.'
'Will you do that? Nick, you _are_ a friend,' cried Kelly, who wasmost reasonably startled by his friend's heroism.
'To be sure I will,' said Nick, looking up at the window. 'I am notafraid of her. A little slip of a girl! Why should we fear her at all?Haven't we killed men more than once? Do you wait here, George. If Ihold my hand up at the window with my fingers open--so, you may comein. But if I hold up a clenched fist, you had best go home as fast asyour legs can carry you. You see, the case is different with you. Ihave no reason whatever to be frightened at her.'
He knocked at the door, and in a little the door was opened. 'Not theleast bit in the world!' he stopped to say to Mr. Kelly in the street.Then he stepped into the passage.