The Highwayman

by H. C. Bailey

  CHAPTER VIII

  MISS LAMBOURNE LOOKS SIDEWAYS

  Thus Colonel Boyce blandly arranged the lives of his young friends. It isbelieved that he had a peculiar pleasure in manoeuvring hisfellow-creatures from behind a veil of secrecy. For in this he sought notmerely his private profit (though it was never out of his calculations);he enjoyed his operations for their own sake; he liked his trickery astrickery; to push and pull people to the place in which he wanted themwithout their knowing how or why or to what end they were impelled was tohim a pleasure second to none in life. And on a survey of his wholecareer he is to be accounted successful. Though I cannot find that heever achieved anything of signal importance even for himself, at one timeor another he brought a great number of people, some of them powerful,and some of them honourable, under his direction, he had his completewill of many of them, and was rewarded by the bitter hostility of themajority. He contrived, in fact, to live just such a life as he likedbest. What more can any man have?

  So he told Harry nothing of his engagement of Mr. Waverton, and Harry,you have seen, was not likely to guess that anyone would enlist hisGeoffrey for a serious enterprise. On the next morning, indeed, Harry didremark that Geoffrey was more portentous than usual, but thought nothingof it. He was embarrassed by thinking about himself.

  There was, as Colonel Boyce predicted, no difficulty about a horse forHarry. When the Colonel suggested it, Geoffrey showed some satiricalsurprise at Harry's daring, but (advising one of the older carriagehorses) bade him take what he would. Colonel Boyce spoke only of ridingwith his son. He said nothing of where they were going. Harry wonderedwhether Geoffrey would have been so gracious if he had known that Alisonwas their destination, and, a new experience for him, felt some qualms ofconscience. It was uncomfortable to use a favour from Geoffrey, even atrifling favour granted with a sneer, for meeting his lady; still moreuncomfortable to go seek the lady out secretly. But if he announced whathe was doing, there would be instantly something ridiculous about it, andhe would have to swallow much of Geoffrey's humour. Geoffrey might evencome with them, and Alison and he be humorous together--a fateintolerable. There was indeed an easy way of escape. He had but to stayaway from the lady. But, though he despised himself for it, he desiredinfinitely to see her again. She compelled him, as he had never believedanything outside his own will could compel. After all, it was no suchmatter, for he would soon be gone with his father to France. He mightwell hope never to see her again.

  So on that ride through the steep wooded lanes to Highgate, his fatherfound him morose, and complained of it. "Damme, for a young fellow that'soff to his lady-love you are a mighty poor thing, Harry."

  "My lady-love! I have no taste for rich food. I thought it was your ladywe were going to see."

  "What the devil do you mean by that?" Colonel Boyce stared.

  "Oh, fie, sir! Why be ashamed of her?"

  "God knows what you are talking about." Colonel Boyce was extraordinarilyirritated. "Ashamed of whom?"

  "Of the peerless Miss Lambourne, to be sure. Oh, sir, why be so innocent?How could she resist your charms? And indeed--"

  "Miss Lambourne! What damned nonsense you talk, Harry."

  "I followed your lead, sir," said Harry meekly. "But if we are to talksense--when shall we start for France?"

  "You shall know when I know."

  And on that they came to the top of the hill and the gates of the Hall.The wet weather had yielded to St. Martin's summer. It was a day ofgentle silver-gold sunlight and benign air. With her companion, Mrs.Weston, Miss Lambourne was walking in the garden. She met the gentlemenat a turn of the drive by rampant sweetbriers. "Here's our knight of therueful countenance, and faith, on Rosinante, poor jade," she pattedHarry's aged carriage horse. "Oh, and he has brought with him Solomon inall his glory," she made a wonderful curtsy to the splendours of ColonelBoyce. "Now, who would have dreamt Don Quixote's father was Solomon?"

  "I suppose I take after my mother, ma'am," Harry said meekly. "It's ahope which often consoles me."

  "Why, they say Solomon had something of a variety in wives, andamong them--"

  Colonel Boyce dismounted with so much noise that the jest was hardlyheard and the end of it altogether lost.

  "You did not tell me"--Mrs. Weston was speaking and seemed to find itdifficult--"Alison, you did not tell me the gentlemen were coming." Itoccurred to Harry that she looked very pale and ill.

  "Why, Weston; dear, I could not tell if they would keep troth." Shebegan to hum:

  "Men were deceivers ever, One foot on sea, and one on shore,To one thing constant never."

  "Nay, ma'am, sigh no more for here are we," Colonel Boyce said brusquely.

  "Oh Lud, he overwhelms us with the honour." She laughed. "How can weentertain him worthily? Sir, will you walk? My poor house and I awaityour pleasure."

  "I am vastly honoured, ma'am. I have never had a lady-in-waiting."

  "Oh, celibate virtue!" quoth Miss Lambourne. And so to the house ColonelBoyce led her and his horse, and a little way behind Harry followed withhis and Mrs. Weston.

  She had nothing to say for herself. She looked so wan, she walked soslowly, and with such an air of pain that Harry had to say somethingabout fearing she was not well. Then he felt a fool for his pains; as sheturned in answer and shook her head he saw such a sad, wistful dignity inher eyes that the small coin of courtesy seemed an absurd offering. Afancy, to be sure, in itself absurd. Yet he could not make the woman out.There was something odd and baffling in the way she looked at him.

  She led off with an odd question, "Pray, have you lived much withColonel Boyce?"

  "Not I, ma'am." Harry laughed. "If I were not a very wise child I shouldhardly know my own father. Lived with him? Not much more than with mymother, whom I never saw."

  "Oh, did you not?" Her eyes dwelt upon him. After a little while, "Whobrought you up then?"

  "Schools. Half a dozen schools between Taunton and London, andWestminster at last."

  "Were you happy?"

  "When I had sixpence."

  "But Colonel Boyce is rich!" she cried.

  "I have no evidence of it, ma'am."

  "I cannot understand. You hardly know him. But he comes to you at LadyWaverton's; he stays with you; he brings you here. I believe you arecloser with him than you say."

  "Why, ma'am, it's mighty kind in you to concern yourself so with myaffairs. And if you can't understand them, faith, no more can I."

  She showed no shame at this rebuke of impertinence. In a minute Harry wassorry he had amused himself by giving it. There was something strangelyaffecting in the woman. Middle-aged, stout, faded, bound in manner andspeech by a shy clumsiness, she refused to be insignificant, she made anappeal to him which he puzzled over in vain. Her simplicity was withpower, as of a nature which had cared only for the greater things. Hefelt himself meeting one who had more than he of human quality, richer insuffering, richer in all emotion, and (what was vastly surprising) underher dullness, her feebleness, of fuller and deeper life.

  From vague, intriguing, bewildering fancies, her voice brought him backwith a start. "He brought you here?" she was asking.

  To be sure, she was wonderfully maladroit. This buzzing, futile curiosityirritated him again into a sneer. "He is no doubt captivated by thebeautiful eyes of Miss Lambourne."

  "He! Mr. Boyce?"--she corrected herself with a stammer and ablush--"Colonel Boyce? Oh no. Indeed, he is old enough to be her father."

  "I think we ought to tell him so." Harry chuckled. "It would dohim good."

  "I think this is not very delicate, sir." Mrs. Weston was still blushing.

  "Egad, ma'am, if you ask questions, you must expect answers," Harrysnapped at her.

  "Why do you sneer at her? Why should you speak coarsely of her? I supposeyou come to the house of your own choice? Or does he make you come?"

  Harry saw no occasion for such excitement. "Why, you take away my breathwith your pronouns. He and she--she and he--pray, let's leave him andhe
r out of the question. Here's a very pretty garden."

  "Indeed, we need not quarrel, I think." She laughed nervously, and gavehim an odd, shy look. "Pray, do you stay with the Wavertons?"

  "Alas, ma'am, I make your acquaintance and bid you farewell all in oneday."

  "Make my acquaintance!" Again came a nervous laugh, and it was a momentbefore she went on. "We have met before to-day."

  "Oh Lud, ma'am, I would desire you forget it."

  "I am to forget it!" she echoed. "Oh ... Oh, you are very proud."

  "Not I, indeed. The truth is, ma'am, that silly affair with ourhighwayman, it embarrasses me mightily. I want to live it down. Pray,help me, and think no more about it."

  "I suppose that is what you say to Alison?" For the first time there wasa touch of fun in her eyes.

  "Word for word, ma'am."

  "Why do you come here then?"

  "As I have the honour to tell you--to say good-bye."

  She checked and stared at him. She was very pale. But now they were atthe steps of the house, and Colonel Boyce, who had resigned his horse toa groom, turned with Alison to meet them.

  "I am hot with the Colonel's compliments, Weston, dear," she announced."I must take a turn with Mr. Boyce to cool me. 'Tis his role. Aconvenient family, faith. One makes you uncomfortably hot and t'otherfreezes you. You go get warm, my Weston. Though I vow 'tis dangerous totrust you to the Colonel. He has made very shameless love to me, and youhave a tender heart."

  It occurred to Harry that Mrs. Weston and his father, thus forced to lookat each other, wore each an air of defiance. They amused him.

  "I am not afraid," Mrs. Weston said.

  "I profess I am abashed," said Colonel Boyce. "Pray, ma'am, be gentle tomy disgrace," and he offered his arm. She bowed and moved away, and hefollowed her.

  Harry and Alison, face to face, and sufficiently close, eyed each otherwith some amusement.

  "Oh, Mr. Boyce," said she, and shook her head.

  "Oh, Miss Lambourne," Harry exhorted in his turn.

  "You have fallen. You have walked into my parlour."

  "I am the best of sons, ma'am. I endure all things at my father'sorders--even spiders."

  She still eyed him steadily, searching him, and was still amused. Shemoved a little so that the admirable flowing lines of her shape were moremarked. Then she said, "Why are you afraid of me?"

  Harry shook his head, smiling. "Vainly is the net spread in the sight ofthe bird, ma'am. But, faith, it was a pretty question, and I make you mycompliments."

  "So. Will you walk, sir?" She turned into a narrow path in the shadow ofarches, clothed by a great Austrian brier, on which here and there ayellow flame still glowed. "Mr. Boyce--when I meet you in company youshrink and cower detestably; when I meet you alone, you fence with meimpudently enough and shrewdly; and always you avoid me while you can. Isuppose there's in all this something more than the freaks of a fool.Then it's fear. Prithee, sir, why in God's name are you afraid of me?"

  "Miss Lambourne got out of bed very earnest this morning," Harry grinned."But oh, let's be grave and honest with all my heart. Why, then, ma'am,I've to say that a penniless fellow has the right to be afraid of MissLambourne's money bags."

  "Fie, you are no such fool. If one is good company to t'other, which isrich and which is poor is no more matter than which fair and which dark."

  "In a better world, ma'am, I would believe you."

  "And here you believe kind folks would sneer at Harry Boyce for scentingan heiress. So you tuck your tail between your legs and go to ground. Isuppose that is called honour, sir."

  "Oh no, ma'am. Taste."

  "La, I offend monsieur's fine taste, do I?"

  "Not often, ma'am. But by all means let us be earnest. I believe I mindbeing sneered at no more than my betters. _Par exemple_, ma'am, when youlaugh at me for being shabby, I am not much disturbed."

  She blushed furiously. "I never did."

  "Oh, I must have read your thoughts then," Harry laughed. "Well, whatmatters to me is not that folks laugh at me but why they laugh. That theymock me for being out at elbows I swallow well enough. That they shouldsneer at me for making love to a woman's purse would give me a nausea."

  Miss Lambourne was pleased to look modest. "Indeed, sir, I did not knowthat you had made love to me."

  "I am obliged by your honesty, ma'am."

  Miss Lambourne looked up and spoke with some vehemence. "It comesto this, then, you would be beaten by what folks may say about you.Oh, brave!"

  "Lud, we are all beaten by what folks might say. Would you ride intoLondon in your shift?"

  "I don't want to ride in my shift," she cried fiercely.

  "Perhaps not, ma'am. But perhaps I don't want to make love to yourpurse."

  "Od burn it, sir, am I nothing but a purse?"

  "I leave it to your husband to find out, ma'am, and beg leave to take myleave. My kind father offers me occupation at a distance, and I embraceit ardently. Who knows? It may provide me with a coat."

  "You are going away?"

  "I have had the honour to say so."

  "And why, if you please?"

  Harry shrugged. "Because, ma'am, without my assistance, Mr. Waverton canvery well translate Horace into his own sublime verse and Miss Lambourneinto his own proud wife."

  He intended her to rage. What she did was to say softly: "You do not wantto see me that?"

  "I have no ambition to amuse you, ma'am." Miss Lambourne lookedsideways. "What if I don't want you to go away?"

  "Egad, ma'am, I know you don't." Harry laughed. "You amuse yourselfvastly (God knows why) with baiting me."

  "Why, it amuses me." Alison still looked at him sideways. "Don't youknow why?"

  He did not choose to answer.

  "Indeed, then, if I am nought to you why do you care what folks say ofyou and me?"

  Harry made a step towards her. "You mean to have it again, do you?"he muttered.

  "Pray, sir, what?" and still she looked sideways.

  "What you dragged out of me in the wood."

  "Dragged out of--oh!" She blushed, she drew back, and so had occasion todo something with her cloak which let a glimpse of white neck and bosomcome into the light. "You flatter us both indeed."

  "I'll tell you the truth of us both"--he, too, was flushed: "you are acurst coquette and I am a curst fool."

  Now she met his eyes fairly, and in hers there was no more laughter,but she smiled with her lips: "I think you know yourself better thanyou know me."

  Harry gripped her hands. "You go about to make me mad with desire foryou, you--"

  "I want you so," she breathed, and leaned back, away from him, her eyeshalf veiled.

  He had his arms about her body, held her close. The red lips curved in ariddle of a smile. He saw dark depths in the shadowed eyes.

  "_Malbrouck s'en va t'en guerre_" she murmured.

  Harry exclaimed something, felt her against him, was aware of all herform--and heard footsteps.

  Alison was out of his grasp, her back to him, plucking a rose. "You willsee me again--you shall see me again. I ride in the wood to-morrowmorning," she muttered.

  "You'll pay for it," Harry growled.

  His father arrived, Mrs. Weston, a servant at their heels.

  Alison came round with a swirl of skirts. "Dear sir, I doubt you haveburnt up dinner by your long passages with my Weston. Come in, come in,"and she led the way.

  For once Colonel Boyce was without an answer. Harry, who was dreadingwitticisms, looked at him in surprise, and with more surprise saw that helooked angry. Mrs. Weston hurried on before them all. Her eyes were red.