IX
HOW A GOLDEN KEY UNLOCKED A DOOR
Having my dismissal and reprieve I was remanded to the custody of thatyoung Lieutenant Tybee whom you have met and known as Falconnet's secondin the duel. Interpreting his orders liberally, he suffered me to keepmy own room for the night. I had expected manacles and a roommate guardat the least, but my gentlemanly jailer spared me both. When he had mesafe above-stairs, he barred the door upon me, set a sentry pacing backand forth in the corridor without, and another to keep an eye upon thewindow from below, and so left me.
There was no great need for either sentry, or for bolts and bars. Whatwith the night's adventures and my scarce-healed wound, I was far spedon that road which ends against the blind wall of exhaustion, as you maywell suppose. For while a man may borrow strength of wine or rage orpassion, these lenders are but pitiless usurers and will demand theirpound of flesh; aye, and have it, too, when all the principal is spent.
So, when Tybee barred the door and left me with a single candle to mylighting, I was fain to fall upon the bed in utter weariness, thinkingthat the respite bought by my sweet lady's humbling was more dearlybought than ever, and that the truest mercy would have been the rope andtree without this interval of waiting.
To me in this grim Doubting Castle of despair the priest came. He was agood man and a true, this low-voiced missioner to the savages, and hewould be a curster man than I who failed to give him his due meed ofpraise and love. For in this dismal interval of waiting, with death sosure and near that all the air was growing chill and lifeless at itspresence, he was a ready help in time of need. If I were "heretic" tohim, I swear I knew it not for aught he said or did; and though Itrusted that when my time was come I should stand forth with some smallsimple-hearted show of courage, yet when he went away I felt I was thestronger for his coming. And this, mark you, though I was stillunshriven, and he had never named the churchly rite to me.
When he was gone I fell to wearing out the time afoot; and, lest youthink me harder than I was, it may be said that while I did not makeconfession to the kindly priest, I hope I tried to make my peace withGod in some such simpler fashion as our forebears did. 'Twas none sogreat a matter, for one who lives a soldier's life must needs be ripefor plucking hastily.
But in the final casting of accounts there was an item written down inred, and one in black, and these would not be scored across for all thetravail of a soul departing. The one in black was bitter sorrow for thefate from which I might not live to save my loved one; the one in redwas this; that I should die and carry hence the knowledge that mightelse nip the Indian onfall in the bud.
No sooner was the priest away than I began to upbraid myself because Ihad not told him of this British-Indian murder plan. And yet on secondthought 'twas clear that it had been but a poor shifting of the burdento weaker shoulders; and thankless, too, for Tarleton would be sure toput him on the question-rack to make him tell of all that passed betweenus.
As I had let him go, he would have naught to tell, and so was safe,where otherwise he might be hanged or buried in the hulks for knowingwhat I knew. No, it were best he knew it not; but how was I to rid me ofthis burden?--of this and of that other laid upon me for my love?
The question asked itself a many a time, and was as often answerless,before there came a stir without and voices in the corridor. It was thechanging of the guard, I guessed, and so it proved, since presently Iheard the clanking of the officer's sword, and double footfallsminishing into silence.
The sentry newly come paced back and forth to a low-hummed quick-step ofhis own, bestirring himself as one who, roused but now from sleep,would wake himself and be alert. He made more noise than did the other,and that is why I marked it when the footfalls ceased abruptly. A momentafterward the bar was lifted cautiously from its socket, the latchclicked gently, and the door swung open. I looked, and must needs lookagain to make assurance sure. For on the threshold stood my ladyMargery, and just behind her some broad figure of a woman whom I knewfor her stout Norman tiring-maid.
She gave me little time for any word of welcome or of deprecation. Whilestill I stood amazed she dragged the woman in with her and closed thedoor. At that I found my tongue.
"Margery! Why have you come?" I spoke in French, and she was quick tolay a finger on her lip.
"Speak to me in English, if you please," she whispered. "Jeanne knowsnothing, and she need not know. But you ask why I come: could I do lessthan come, dear friend?"
I had always marveled that she could be so mocking hard at times, and atother times--as now--so soft and gentle. And though I thought it cruelthat I should have to fight my battle for the losing of her over again,I had not the heart to chide her.
"You could have done much less, dear lady," I said, taking her hands inmine; "much less, and still be blameless. You have done too much for mealready. I would you had not done so much, I would to God I had beenhanged before you went upon your knees to that--"
She freed one hand and laid a finger on my lip--nay, it was her palm,and if I took a dying man's fair leave and kissed it softly, I think sheknew it not.
"Hush!" she commanded. "Is this a time to harbor bitter thoughts? Ithought you might have other things to say to me, Monsieur John."
"There is no other thing that I may say."
"Not anything at all?"
"Naught but a parting hope for you. I hope you will be true and loyal toyourself, Margery _mia_."
"To myself? I do not understand."
"I think you do--I think you must."
"But I do not."
I turned it over more than once in my mind if I should tell her all Ihad feared; should tell her how I came to kill a man and was fair set tokill another had I found a wedding afoot in the great fore-room. I couldnot bring myself to do it, and yet I thought it would go hard with me ifI should leave her still unwarned.
"If I should try to make you understand, you will be angry, as you werebefore."
The wicker chair was close beside the table and she sat down. And whenshe spoke she had her hands tight-clasped across her knee and would notlook at me.
"Is it--about--Sir Francis?"
"It is," said I, pausing once more upon the brink of full confession.
She waited patiently for me to speak further; waited and let me fight itout in slow pacings up and down before her chair. Without, the night wascalm and still, and through the opened casement came the measured beatof footfalls on the gravel where the outer sentry kept his watch beneaththe window. Within, the single candle battled feebly with the gloom andlighted naught for me save my dear lady's face, pensive now and saintlysweet as it had been that morning when I had dwelt upon it the while sheknew it not. And in the background stood the sleepy tire-woman, givingno sign of life save now and then a tortured yawn behind her hand.
I think my lady must have known how hard it was for me to speak, for,when the silence had grown overlong, she said, gently: "I bought theseflying minutes of the sentry, Monsieur John. Will you not use them?"
"If I should say the thing I ought to say, you'll think the minutesdearly bought, I fear."
"No, that I shall not, if it will ease your mind."
"Then tell me why you sent for Father Matthieu."
The light was dim, as I have said, yet I could see the faint flushspread from neck to cheek.
"You are not of the Church, Monsieur John. You would not understand if Ishould tell you."
"I think I understand without your telling. You said Sir FrancisFalconnet had asked for you."
"'Twas you who drove me to say it."
"Because I tried to warn you?"
"Because you would be vengeful when you should have been forgiving."
"'Twas not revenge, just then, though while I live I shall have amplecause to hate this man."
"What was it, then?"
"It was love; love for you, and--and Richard Jennifer."
She rose, and I could see her eyes ashine for all the half-gloom of thecandle-light.
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"You are a loyal friend!" she said, and there was that within the wordsto make me glad, whatever fate the dawn should have in store for me."You always think of others first; you think of others now, when--whendeath--Oh, Monsieur John! what can I do for you? Say quick! The man iscoming to the door!"
"Now I have told you this, there is but one other thing, Margery dear;one little thing that will not let me die in peace. If I might have tenwords with Richard Jennifer--"
She left me in a fever-flutter of excitement, whipped to the door, andhad a word with him who stood without. I heard the chink of coin, andthen she hastened back to me, all eagerness and tremulous impatience.
"Tell me--tell me instantly what I must do. I am not afraid. Shall Iride down to Jennifer House and fetch Dick here?"
"He is a prisoner, and if he were not, they would not let him see me.Besides, I would not let you go on such an errand. And yet--God help me,Margery! there is many an innocent life hanging on this; the lives ofhelpless women and little children. Have you ever a messenger to send, aman who will risk his life and can be trusted fully?"
"Yes, yes!" she cried. "Write it down for me and Dick shall have it.Quick; for Our Lady's sake, be quick about it! _O Sancta Maria, mater.Dei_--"
The low impassioned chant of the Roman litany was ringing in my ears asI sat down to the table to write my message to Richard Jennifer. Therewere quills and an ink-pot at hand, but no paper. I felt mechanically inmy pocket and found, not some old letter, as I hoped, but the crumpledparchment map snatched and hidden when Captain Stuart had winced anddropped it at the bidding of the whistling sword about his ears.
How it was they had not searched me for it, I know not; though haply thecaptain did not guess how he had lost it. Be that as it might, I had itsafe, and Dick should have it safe, and use it, too, to some goodpurpose, as I fondly hoped.
You'd hardly think from the slow and clumsy spinning of this tale that Icould crowd the narrative of all that I had seen and heard into aniggard three-score words or less. But this I did, writing them upon themargin of the captain's map, and noting in an added line the prickingout of the powder convoy's route. And while my pen was looping on theflourish to my name, my eager little lady seized the pounce-box, sandedme the heavy trailings of the quill, snatched and hid the parchment inher bosom, and was gone.
And but for this; that I heard the door-latch click behind her, and thenthe heavy wooden bar fall into place, I might have thought thehappenings of the hour the unsubstantial fancies of a dream.
The Master of Appleby Page 11