The Story of Francis Cludde

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER IX.

  PLAYING WITH FIRE.

  He was a young man, and a Dutchman, but not a Dutchman of the stout,burly type which I had most commonly seen in the country. He had, itis true, the usual fair hair and blue eyes, and he was rather shortthan tall; but his figure was thin and meager, and he had a pointednose and chin, and a scanty fair beard. I took him to be nearsighted:at a second glance I saw that he was angry. He was talking fast toDymphna--of course in Dutch--and my first impulse, in face of hisexcited gestures and queer appearance, was to laugh. But I had anotion what his relationship to the girl was, and I smothered this,and instead asked, as soon as I could get a word in, whether I shouldleave them.

  "Oh, no!" Dymphna answered, blushing slightly, and turning to me witha troubled glance. I believe she had clean forgotten my presence."This is Master Jan Van Tree, a good friend of ours. And this," shecontinued, still in Spanish, but speaking to him, "is Master Carey,one of my father's guests."

  We bowed, he formally, for he had not recovered his temper, and I--Idare say I still had my Spanish ancestors in my head--withcondescension. We disliked one another at sight, I think. I dubbed hima mean little fellow, a trader, a peddler; and, however he classed me,it was not favorably. So it was no particular desire to please himwhich led me to say with outward solicitude, "I fear you are annoyedat something, Master Van Tree?"

  "I am!" he said bluntly, meeting me half-way.

  "And am I to know the cause?" I asked, "or is it a secret?"

  "It is no secret!" he retorted. "Mistress Lindstrom should have beenmore careful. She should not have exposed herself to the chance ofbeing seen by those miserable foreigners."

  "The foreigners--in the boat?" I said dryly.

  "Yes, of course--in the boat," he answered. He was obliged to saythat, but he glared at me across her as he spoke. We had turned andwere walking back to the house, the poplars casting long shadowsacross our path.

  "They were rude," I observed carelessly, my chin very high. "But thereis no particular harm done that I can see, Master Van Tree."

  "Perhaps not, as far as you can see," he retorted in great excitement."But perhaps also you are not very far-sighted. You may not see itnow, yet harm will follow."

  "Possibly," I said, and I was going to follow up this seemingly candidadmission by something very boorish, when Mistress Dymphna struck innervously.

  "My father is anxious," she explained, speaking to me, "that I shouldhave as little to do with our Spanish governors as possible, MasterCarey. It always vexes him to hear that I have fallen in their way,and that is why my friend feels annoyed. It was not, of course, yourfault, since you did not know of this. It was I," she continuedhurriedly, "who should not have ventured to the elm tree withoutseeing that the coast was clear."

  I knew that she was timidly trying, her color coming and going, tocatch my eye; to appease me as the greater stranger, and to keep thepeace between her ill-matched companions, who, indeed, stalked alongeying one another much as a wolf-hound and a badger-dog might regardeach other across a choice bone. But the young Dutchman's suddenappearance had put me out. I was not in love with her, yet I liked totalk to her, and I grudged her to him, he seemed so mean a fellow. Andso--churl that I was--in answer to her speech I let drop some sneerabout the great fear of the Spaniards which seemed to prevail in theseparts.

  "_You_ are not afraid of them, then?" Van Tree said, with a smile.

  "No, I am not," I answered, my lip curling also.

  "Ah!" with much meaning. "Perhaps you do not know them very well."

  "Perhaps not," I replied. "Still, my grandmother was a Spaniard."

  "So I should have thought," he retorted swiftly.

  So swiftly that I felt the words as I should have felt a blow. "Whatdo you mean?" I blurted out, halting before him, with my cheekcrimson. In vain were all Dymphna's appealing glances, all her signsof distress. "I will have you explain, Master Van Tree, what you meanby that?" I repeated fiercely.

  "I mean what I said," he answered, confronting me stubbornly, andshaking off Dymphna's hand. His blue eyes twinkled with rage, his thinbeard bristled; he was the color of a turkey-cock's comb. At home weshould have thought him a comical little figure; but he did not seemso absurd here. For one thing, he looked spiteful enough for anything;and for another, though I topped him by a head and shoulders, I couldnot flatter myself that he was afraid of me. On the contrary, I feltthat in the presence of his mistress, small and short-sighted as hewas, he would have faced a lion without winking.

  His courage was not to be put to the proof. I was still glaring athim, seeking some retort which should provoke him beyond endurance,when a hand was laid on my shoulder, and I turned to find that MasterBertie and the Duchess had joined us.

  "So here are the truants," the former said pleasantly, speaking inEnglish, and showing no consciousness whatever of the crisis in themiddle of which he had come up, though he must have discerned in ourdefiant attitudes, and in Dymphna's troubled face, that something waswrong. "You know who this is, Master Francis," he continued heartily."Or have you not been introduced to Master Van Tree, the betrothed ofour host's daughter?"

  "Mistress Dymphna has done me that honor," I said stiffly, recoveringmyself in appearance, while at heart sore and angry with everybody."But I fear the Dutch gentleman has not thanked her for theintroduction, since he learned that my grandmother was Spanish."

  "_Your_ grandmother, do you mean?" cried the Duchess, much astonished.

  "Yes, madam."

  "Well, to be sure!" she exclaimed, lifting up her hands and appealingwhimsically to the others. "This boy is full of starts and surprises.You never know what he will produce next. The other day it was awarrant! To-day it is a grandmother, and a temper!"

  I could not be angry with her; and perhaps I was not sorry now that myquarrel with the young Dutchman had stopped where it had. I affected,as well as I could, to join in the laugh at my expense, and tookadvantage of the arrival of our host--who at this moment came up theslope from the landing-place, his hands outstretched and a smile ofgreeting on his kindly face--to slip away unnoticed, and make amendsto my humor by switching off the heads of the withes by the river.

  But naturally the scene left a degree of ill-feeling behind it; andfor the first time, during the two months we had spent under MasterLindstrom's roof, the party who sat down to supper were under someconstraint. I felt that the young Dutchman had had the best of thebout in the garden; and I talked loudly and foolishly in the boyishattempt to assert myself, and to set myself right at least in my ownestimation. Master Van Tree meanwhile sat silent, eying me from timeto time in no friendly fashion. Dymphna seemed nervous and frightened,and the Duchess and her husband exchanged troubled glances. Only ourhost and Mistress Anne, who was in particularly good spirits, wereunaffected by the prevailing chill.

  Mistress Anne, indeed, in her ignorance, made matters worse. She hadbegun to pick up some Dutch, and was fond of airing her knowledge andpracticing fresh sentences at meal-times. By some ill-luck shecontrived this evening--particularly after, finding no one tocontradict me, I had fallen into comparative silence--to frame hersentences so as to cause as much embarrassment as possible to all ofus. "Where did you walk with Dymphna this morning?" was the questionput to me. "You are fond of the water; Englishmen are fond of thewater," she said to Dymphna. "Dymphna is tall; Master Francis is tall.I sit by you to-night; the Dutch lady sat by you last night," andsoon, and so on, with prattle which seemed to amuse our hostexceedingly--he was never tired of correcting her mistakes--but whichput the rest of us out of countenance, bringing the tears to poorDymphna's eyes--she did not know where to look--and making her loverglower at me as though he would eat me.

  It was in vain that the Duchess made spasmodic rushes intoconversation, and in the intervals nodded and frowned at thedelinquent. Mistress Anne in her innocence saw nothing. She went onuntil Van Tree could stand it no longer, and with a half-smotheredthrea
t, which was perfectly intelligible to me, rose roughly from thetable, and went to the door as if to look out at the night.

  "What is the matter?" Mistress Anne said, wonderingly, in English. Hereyes seemed at length to be opened to the fact that something wasamiss with us.

  Before I could answer, the Duchess, who had risen, came behind her."You little fool!" she whispered fiercely, "if fool you are. Youdeserve to be whipped!"

  "Why, what have I done?" murmured the girl, really frightened now, andappealing to me.

  "Done!" whispered the Duchess; and I think she pinched her, for myneighbor winced. "More harm than you guess, you minx! And for you,Master Francis, a word with you. Come with me to my room, please."

  I went with her, half-minded to be angry, and half-inclined to feelashamed of myself. She did not give me time, however, to considerwhich attitude I should take up, for the moment the door of her roomwas closed behind us, she turned upon me, the color high in hercheeks. "Now, young man," she said in a tone of ringing contempt, "doyou really think that that girl is in love with you?"

  "What girl?" I asked sheepishly. The unexpected question and her toneput me out of countenance.

  "What girl? What girl?" she replied impatiently. "Don't play with me,boy! You know whom I mean. Dymphna Lindstrom!"

  "Oh, I thought you meant Mistress Anne," I said, somewhatimpertinently.

  Her face fell in an extraordinary fashion, as if the suggestion werenot pleasant to her. But she answered on the instant: "Well! Thevanity of the lad! Do you think all the girls are in love with you?Because you have been sitting with a pretty face on each side of you,do you think you have only to throw the handkerchief, this way orthat? If you do, open your eyes, and you will find it is not so. Mykinswoman can take care of herself, so we will leave her out of thediscussion, please. And for this pink and white Dutch girl," my ladycontinued viciously, "let me tell you that she thinks more of VanTree's little finger than of your whole body."

  I shrugged my shoulders, but still I was mortified. A young man maynot be in love with a girl, yet it displeases him to hear that she isindifferent to him.

  The Duchess noticed the movement. "Don't do that," she cried inimpatient scorn. "You do not see much in Master Van Tree, perhaps? Ithought not. Therefore you think a girl must be of the same mind asyourself. Well," with a fierce little nod, "you will learn some daythat it is not so, that women are not quite what men think them; andparticularly, Master Francis, that six feet of manhood, and a prettyface on top of it, do not always have their way. But there, I did notbring you here to tell you that. I want to know whether you are awarewhat you are doing?"

  I muttered something to the effect that I did not know I was doing anyharm.

  "You do not call it harm, then," the Duchess retorted with energy, "toendanger the safety of every one of us? Cannot you see that if youinsult and offend this young man--which you are doing out of purewanton mischief, for you are not in love with the girl--he may ruinus?"

  "Ruin us?" I repeated incredulously.

  "Yes, ruin us!" she cried. "Here we are, living more or less in hidingthrough the kindness of Master Lindstrom--living in peace andquietness. But do you suppose that inquiries are not being made forus? Why, I would bet a dozen gold angels that Master Clarence is inthe Netherlands, at this moment, tracking us."

  I was startled by this idea, and she saw I was. "We can trust MasterLindstrom, were it only for his own sake," she continued more quietly,satisfied perhaps with the effect she had produced. "And this youngman, who is the son of one of the principal men of Arnheim, is alsodisposed to look kindly on us, as I fancy it is his nature to look.But if you make mischief between Dymphna and him----"

  "I have not," I said.

  "Then do not," she replied sharply. "Look to it for the future. Andmore, do not let him fancy it possible. Jealousy is as easily awakenedas it is hardly put to sleep. A word from this young man to theSpanish authorities, and we should be hauled back to England in atrice, if worse did not befall us here. Now, you will be careful?"

  "I will," I said, conscience-stricken and a little cowed.

  "That is better," she replied smiling. "I think you will. Now go."

  I went down again with some food for thought--with some goodintentions, too. But I was to find--the discovery is made bymany--that good resolutions commonly come too late. When I wentdownstairs I found my host and Master Bertie alone in the parlor. Thegirls had disappeared, so had Van Tree, and I saw at once thatsomething had happened. Master Bertie was standing gazing at the stovevery thoughtfully, and the Dutchman was walking up and down the roomwith an almost comical expression of annoyance and trouble on hispleasant face.

  "Where are the young ladies?" I asked.

  "Upstairs," said Master Bertie, not looking at me.

  "And--and Van Tree?" I asked mechanically. Somehow I anticipated theanswer.

  "Gone!" said the Englishman curtly.

  "Ay, gone, the foolish lad!" the Dutchman struck in, tugging at hisbeard. "What has come to him? He is not wont to show temper. I havenever known him and Dymphna have a cross word before. What has come tothe lad, I say, to go off in a passion at this time of night? And noone knows whither he has gone, or when he will come back again!"

  He seemed as he spoke hardly conscious of my presence; but MasterBertie turned and looked at me, and I hung my head, and very shortlyafterward, I slunk out. The thought of what I might have brought uponus all by my petulance and vanity made me feel sick. I crept up to bednervous and fearful of the morrow, listening to every noise without,and praying inwardly that my alarm might not be justified.

  When the morrow came I went downstairs as anxious to see Van Tree inthe flesh as I had been yesterday disappointed by his appearance. Butno Van Tree was there to be seen. Nothing had been heard of him.Dymphna moved restlessly about, her cheeks pale, her eyes downcast,and if I had ever flattered myself that I was anything to the girl, Iwas undeceived now. The Duchess shot angry glances at me from time totime. Master Bertie kept looking anxiously at the door. Every oneseemed to fear and to expect something. But none of them feared andexpected it as I did.

  "He must have gone home; he must have gone to Arnheim," said our host,trying to hide his vexation. "He will be back in a day or two. Youngmen will be young men."

  But I found that the Duchess did not share the belief that Van Treehad gone home; for in the course of the morning she took occasion,when we were alone, to charge me to be careful not to come intocollision with him.

  "How can I, now he has gone?" I said meekly, feeling I was indisgrace.

  "He has not gone far," replied the Duchess meaningly. "Depend upon it,he will not go far out of sight unless there is more harm done than Ithink, or he is very different from English lovers. But if you comeacross him, I pray you to keep clear of him, Master Francis."

  I nodded assent.

  But of what weight are resolutions, with fate in the other scale! Itwas some hours after this, toward two o'clock indeed, when MistressAnne came to me, looking flurried and vexed. "Have you seen Dymphna?"she asked abruptly.

  "No," I answered. "Why?"

  "Because she is not in the house," the girl answered, speakingquickly, "nor in the garden; and the last time I saw her she wascrossing the island toward the footbridge. I think she has gone thatway to be on the lookout--you can guess for whom [with a smile]. But Iam fearful lest she shall meet some one else, Master Francis; she iswearing her gold chain, and one of the maids says that she saw two ofthe Spanish garrison on the road near the end of the footbridge thismorning. That is the way by land to Arnheim, you know."

  "That is bad," I said. "What is to be done?"

  "You must go and look for her," Anne suggested. "She should not bealone."

  "Let her father go, or Master Bertie," I answered.

  "Her father has gone down the river--to Arnheim, I expect; and MasterBertie is fishing in a boat somewhere. It will take time to find him.Why cannot you go? If she has crossed the footbridge she will not befar away
."

  She seemed so anxious as she spoke for the Dutch girl's safety, thatshe infected me with her fears, and I let myself be persuaded. Afterall there might be danger, and I did not see what else was to be done.Indeed, Mistress Anne did not leave me until she had seen me clear ofthe orchard and half across the meadows toward the footbridge. "Mindyou bring her back," she cried after me. "Do not let her come alone!"And those were her last words.

  After we had separated I did think for a moment that it was a pity Ihad not asked her to come with me. But the thought occurred too late,and I strode on toward the head of the bridge, resolving that, as soonas I had sighted Dymphna, I would keep away from her and contentmyself with watching over her from a distance. As I passed by thelittle cluster of cottages on the landward side of the island, Iglanced sharply about me, for I thought it not unlikely that MasterVan Tree might be lurking in the neighborhood. But I saw nothingeither of her or him. All was quiet, the air full of spring sunshineand warmth and hope and the blossoms of fruit trees; and with anindefinable pleasure, a feeling of escape from control and restraint,I crossed the long footbridge, and set foot, almost for the first timesince our arrival--for at Master Lindstrom's desire we had kept veryclose--on the river bank.

  To the right a fair road or causeway along the waterside led toArnheim. At the point where I stood, this road on its way from thecity took a turn at right angles, running straight away from the riverto avoid a wide track of swamp and mere which lay on my left--aquaking marsh many miles round, overgrown with tall rushes and sedges,which formed the head of the bay in which our island lay. I looked upthe long, straight road to Arnheim, and saw only a group of travelersmoving slowly along it, their backs toward me. The road before me wasbare of passengers. Where, then, was Dymphna, if she had crossed thebridge? In the last resort I scanned the green expanse of rushes andwillows, which stretched, with intervals of open water, as far as theeye could reach on my left. It was all rustling and shimmering in thelight breeze, but my eye picked out one or two raised dykes whichpenetrated it here and there, and served at once as pathways to isletsin the mere and as breastworks against further encroachments of theriver. Presently, on one of these, of which the course was fairlydefined by a line of willows, I made out the flutter of a woman'shood. And I remembered that the day before I had heard Dymphna expressa wish to go to the marsh for some herb which grew there.

  "Right!" I said, seating myself with much satisfaction on the lastpost of the bridge. "She is safe enough there! And I will go nonearer. It is only on the road she is likely to be in danger from ourSpanish gallants!"

  My eyes, released from duty, wandered idly over the landscape for awhile, but presently returned to the dyke across the mere. I could notnow see Dymphna. The willows hid her, and I waited for her toreappear. She did not, but some one else did; for by and by, on thesame path and crossing an interval between the willows, there cameinto sight a man's form.

  "Ho! ho!" I said, following it with my eyes. "So I may go home! MasterVan Tree is on the track. And now I hope they will make it up!" Iadded pettishly.

  Another second and I started up with a low cry. The sunlight hadcaught a part of the man's dress, a shining something which flashedback a point of intense light. The something I guessed at once was acorselet, and it needed scarce another thought to apprise me thatDymphna's follower was not Van Tree at all, but a Spanish soldier!

  I lost no time; yet it took me a minute--a minute of trembling hasteand anxiety--to discover the path from the causeway on to the dyke.When once I had stumbled on to the latter I found I had lost sight ofboth figures; but I ran along at the top of my speed, calculating thatthe two, who could not be far apart, the man being the nearer to me,were about a quarter of a mile or rather more from the road. I hadgone one-half of this distance perhaps when a shrill scream in frontcaused me to redouble my efforts. I expected to find the ruffian inthe act of robbing the girl, and clutched my cudgel--for, alas! I hadleft my sword at home--more tightly in my grasp, so that it was animmense relief to me when, on turning an angle in the dyke, I saw herrunning toward me. Her face, still white with fear, however, and herhair streaming loosely behind her, told how narrow had been herescape--if escape it could be called. For about ten feet behind her,the hood he had plucked off still in his grasp, came Master Spaniard,hot-foot and panting, but gaining on her now with every stride.

  I STOOD OVER HIM WATCHING HIM]

  He was a tall fellow, gayly dressed, swarthy, mustachioed, andfierce-eyed. His corselet and sword-belt shone and jingled as he ranand swore; but he had dropped his feathered bonnet in the slightstruggle which had evidently taken place when she got by him; and itlay a black spot in the middle of the grassy avenue behind him. Thesun--it was about three hours after noon--was at my back, and shiningdirectly into his eyes, and I marked this as I raised my cudgel andjumped aside to let the girl pass; for she in her blind fear wouldhave run against me.

  It was almost the same with him. He did not see me until I was withina few paces of him, and even then I think he noticed my presencemerely as that of an unwelcome spectator. He fancied I should stepaside; and he cursed me, calling me a Dutch dog for getting in hisway.

  The next moment--he had not drawn his sword nor made any attempt todraw it--we came together violently, and I had my hand on his throat.We swayed as we whirled round one another in the first shock of thecollision. A cry of astonishment escaped him--astonishment at myhardihood. He tried, his eyes glaring into mine, and his hot breath onmy cheek, to get at his dagger. But it was too late. I brought down mystaff, with all the strength of an arm nerved at the moment by rageand despair, upon his bare head.

  He went down like a stone, and the blood bubbled from his lips. Istood over him watching him. He stretched himself out and turned witha convulsive movement on his face. His hands clawed the grass. His legmoved once, twice, a third time faintly. Then he lay still.

  There was a lark singing just over my head, and its clear notesseemed, during the long, long minute while I stood bending over him inan awful fascination, to be the only sounds in nature. I looked solong at him in that dreadful stillness and absorption, I dared not atlast look up lest I should see I knew not what. Yet when a touch fellon my arm I did not start.

  "You have killed him!" the girl whispered, shuddering.

  "Yes, I have killed him," I answered mechanically.

  I could not take my eyes off him. It was not as if I had done thisthing after a long conflict, or in a _melee_ with others fightinground me, or on the battle-field. I should have felt no horror thensuch as I felt now, standing over him in the sunshine with the lark'ssong in my ears. It had happened so quickly, and the waste about uswas so still; and I had never killed a man before, nor seen a man die.

  "Oh, come away!" Dymphna wailed suddenly. "Come away!"

  I turned then, and the sight of the girl's wan face and strained eyesrecalled me in some degree to myself. I saw she was ill; and hastily Igave her my arm, and partly carried, partly supported, her back to theroad. The way seemed long and I looked behind me often. But we reachedthe causeway at last, and there in the open I felt some relief. Yeteven then, stopping to cast a backward glance at the marsh, Ishuddered anew, espying a bright white spark gleaming amid the greenof the rushes. It was the dead man's corselet. But if it had been hiseye I could scarcely have shrunk from it in greater dread.

  It will be imagined that we were not long in crossing the island.Naturally I was full of what had happened, and never gave a thought toVan Tree's jealousy, or the incidents of his short visit. I had indeedforgotten his existence until we reached the porch. There enteringrapidly, with Dymphna clinging to my arm, I was so oblivious of othermatters that when the young Dutchman rose suddenly from the seat onone side of the door, and at the same moment the Duchess rose from thebench on the other, I did not understand in the first instant ofsurprise what was the matter, though I let Dymphna's hand fall from myarm. The dark scowling face of the one, however, and the anger andchagrin written on the features of
the other, as they both glared atus, brought all back to me in a flash. But it was too late. Before Icould utter a word the girl's lover pushed by me with a fierce gestureand fiercer cry, and disappeared round a corner of the house.

  "Was ever such folly!" cried the Duchess, stamping her foot, andstanding before us, her face crimson. "Or such fools! You idiot!You----"

  "Hush, madam," I said sternly--had I really grown older in doing thedeed? "something has happened."

  And Dymphna, with a low cry of "The Spaniard! The Spaniard!" totteredup to her and fainted in her arms.