CHAPTER XXI.
HOW KITTY WENT TO LONDON.
Oppressed with this determination, which left no room for any otherthought, I urged upon Mrs. Esther the necessity of going to London atonce, as we had resolved to do before the accident. I pointed out toher that, after the dreadful calamity which had befallen us--for whichmost certainly no one could blame us--we could take no more pleasure inthe gaieties of Epsom: that we could enjoy no longer the light talk,the music, and the dancing; that the shadow of Death had fallen overthe place, so far as we were concerned: that we could not laugh whileNancy was weeping; and that--in short, my lord was in London and I mustneeds go too.
"There are a hundred good reasons," said Mrs. Esther, "why we should goaway at once: and you have named the very best of all. But, dear child,I would not seem to be pursuing his lordship."
"Indeed," I replied, "there will be no pursuing of him. Oh, dear madam,I should be"--and here I burst into tears--"the happiest of women if Iwere not the most anxious."
She thought I meant that I was anxious about Will's recovery; but thiswas no longer the foremost thing in my thoughts, much as I hoped thathe would get better--which seemed now hopeless.
"Let us go, dear madam, and at once. Let us leave this place, whichwill always be remembered by me as the scene of so much delight as wellas so much pain. I must see my lord as soon as I can. For oh! there areobstacles in the way which I must try to remove, or be a wretched womanfor ever."
"Child," said Mrs. Esther severely, "we must not stake all ourhappiness on one thing."
"But I have so staked it," I replied. "Dear madam, you do notunderstand. If I get not Lord Chudleigh for my husband, I will neverhave any man. If I cannot be his slave, then will I be no man's queen.For oh! I love the ground he walks upon; the place where he lodges ismy palace, his kind looks are my paradise; I want no heaven unless Ican hold his hand in mine."
I refrain from setting down all I said, because I think I was like amad thing, having in my mind at once my overweening love, my repentanceand shame, and my terror in thinking of what my lord would say when heheard the truth.
Had my case been that of more happy women, who have nothing to concealor to confess, such a fit of passion would have been without excuse,but I set it down here, though with some shame, yet no self-reproach,because the events of the last day or two had been more than Icould bear, and I must needs weep and cry, even though my tears andlamentations went to the heart of my gentle lady, who could not bearto see me suffer. For consider, the son of my kindest friends, to belying, like to die, run through the body by my lover: I could notbe suffered to see his mother, who had been almost my own mother: Icould never more bear to meet my pretty Nancy without thinking how,unwittingly, I had enchanted this poor boy, and so lured him to hisdeath: that merry, saucy girl would be merry no more: all our ways ofkindly mirth and innocent happiness were gone, never to return: evenif Will recovered, how could there, any more, be friendship betweenhim and me? For the memory of his villainous attempt could never beeffaced. There are some things which we forgive, because we forget: butthis thing, though I might forgive, none of us would ever forget. Andat the back of all this trouble was my secret, which I was now, in somewords, I knew not what, to confess to my lord.
Poor Mrs. Esther gave way to all I wanted. She would leave Epsom onMonday: indeed, her boxes should be packed in a couple of hours. Shekissed and soothed me, while I wept and exclaimed, in terms which shecould not understand, upon woman's perfidy and man's fond trust. WhenI was recovered from this fit, which surely deserved no other name, inwhich passion got the better of reason, and reason and modesty wereabandoned for the time (if Solomon Stallabras had seen me then, howwould he have been ashamed for his blind infatuation!), we were ablecalmly to begin our preparation.
First we told Cicely to go order us a post-chaise for Monday morning,for we must go to London without delay; then I folded and packed awayMrs. Esther's things, while she laid her down to rest awhile, forher spirits had been greatly agitated by my unreasonable behaviour.Then Cicely came to my room to help me, and presently I saw her tearsfalling upon the linen which she folded and laid in the trunk.
"Foolish Cicely!" I said, thinking of my own foolishness, "why do youcry?"
"O Miss Kitty," she sobbed, "who would not cry to see you going away,never to come back again? For I know you never, never could come hereany more after that dreadful carrying away, enough to frighten a maidinto her grave. And besides, they say that Epsom is going to be givenup, and the Assembly Rooms pulled down; and we should not have had thisgay season unless it had been for my lord and his party at the Durdans.And what we shall do, mother and me, I can't even think."
Why, here was another trouble.
"Miss Kitty"--this silly girl threw herself on her knees to me andcaught my hand--"take me into your service when you marry my lord."
"How do you know I am to marry my lord, Cicely? There are many thingswhich may happen to prevent it."
"Oh, I know you will, because you are so beautiful and so good." Isnatched my hand away. "I haven't offended you, Miss Kitty, have I? Allthe world cries out that you are as good as you are beautiful; andhaven't I seen you, for near two months, always considerate, and neverout of temper with anybody, not even with me, or your hairdresser, oryour dressmaker? Whereas, Miss Peggy Baker slaps her maid, and stickspins into her milliner."
"That is enough, Cicely," I said. "I have no power to take anybody intomy service, being as penniless as yourself. But if--if--that event_should_ happen which you hope for--why--then--I do not--say----"
"It _will_ happen. Oh, I know that it will happen. I have dreamed ofit three times running, and always before midnight. I threw a piece ofapple-peel yesterday, and called it to name your husband. It first madea G., which is Geoffrey, and then a C., which is Chudleigh. And mothersays that everything in the house points to a wedding as true as shecan read the signs. O Miss Kitty! may I be in your service?"
I laughed and cried. I know not which, for the tears were very near myeyes all that time.
But oh! that thing did happen which she prophesied and I longed for--Iwill quickly tell you how. And, as I have said before, I took Cicelyinto my service, and a good and faithful maid she proved, and marriedthe curate. I forgot to say that when young Lord Eardesley heard thestory of her father's elopement with Jenny Medlicott, he laughed,because his mother, Jenny's friend and far-off cousin, had taken heraway to Virginia with her, where, after (I hope) the death of JoshuaCrump, she had married again. Jenny, it appeared, was the daughter ofthe same alderman whose fall in 1720 ruined my poor ladies. And itwas for this reason that his lordship afterwards, when Cicely had ahouseful of babies, took a fancy to them, and would have them, whenthey were big enough, out to Virginia. Here he made them overseers,and, in course of time, settled them on estates of their own, wheresome of them prospered, and some, as happens in all large families,wasted their substance and fell into poverty.
The next day, being Sunday, we spent chiefly over our devotions. Itwas moving to hear the congregation invited to pray for one in grievousdanger--meaning poor Will, who would have been better at this momenthad he sometimes prayed for himself. Nancy sat beside me in our pew,and caught my hand at the words. One could not choose but weep, poorchild! for there was no improvement in Will's fever: all night long thedoctor had sat beside his bed, while the lad, in his delirium, fanciedhimself riding races, wrestling, boxing, and drinking with his booncompanions. A pitiful contrast! The pleasures of the world in his mind,and eternity in prospect. Yet, for a man in delirium, allowance mustbe made. The fever was now, in fact, at its height, and four men werenecessary to hold him down in his ravings.
We spent a gloomy Sunday indeed, Mrs. Esther being so saddened by theanxieties of our friends that she resumed her reading of "Drelincourton Death," a book she had laid aside since we left the Rules. And weobserved a fast, not so much from religious motives, as because, in thewords of Mrs. Esther, roast veal and stuffing is certain to disag
reewhen a heart of sensibility is moved by the woes of those we love. Inthe evening we had it cold, when Nancy came to sit with us, her eyesred with her weeping, and we were fain to own that we were hungry aftercrying together all day long.
"Hot meat," said Mrs. Esther, "at such a juncture, would have chokedus."
Nancy said, that after what had happened, it would certainly beimpossible for us to stay longer at Epsom, and that for herself, allshe hoped and expected now was shame and disgrace for the rest of herlife. She wished that there were convents in the country to which shecould repair for the rest of her days; go with her hair cut short, getup in the middle of the night for service, and eat nothing but breadand water. "For," she said, "I shall never cease to think that my ownbrother tried to do such a wicked thing."
Nancy as a nun made us all laugh, and so with spirits raised a little,we kissed, and said farewell. Nancy promised to let me know every otherday by post, whatever the letter should cost, how things went. Itseemed to me, indeed, as if, seeing that Will had not died in the firsttwenty-four hours, the chance was somewhat in favour of his recovery.And he was so strong a man, and so young. I sent a message of dutyand respect to Sir Robert--I dared not ask to have my name so much asmentioned to Will's mother--and left Nancy in her trouble, full of mineown.
Before we started next morning, Cicely went for news, but there wasno improvement. The stable-boy, she told me, was going about thetown, his arm bandaged up, saying that if ever a man was murdered incold blood it was his master, because he had never a sword, and onlya stick to defend himself with. Also, it was reported that among thelower classes, the servants, grooms, footmen, and such, the feeling wasstrong that the poor gentleman had met with foul play. Asked whetherthey understood rightly what Mr. Will Levett was doing, Cicely repliedthat they knew very well, and that they considered he was doing a fineand gallant thing, one which would confer as much honour upon the ladyas upon himself, which shows that in this world there is no opinion toomonstrous to be held by rough and uneducated people; wherefore we oughtthe more carefully to guard the constitution and prevent the rabblefrom having any share in public business, or the control of affairs.
Our carriage took us to London in three hours, the road being tolerablygood, and so well frequented, after the first three miles, that therewas little fear of highway robbers or footpads. And so we came back toour lodgings in Red Lion Street, after such a two months as I believenever before fell to the lot of any girl.
Remember that I was a wife, yet a maiden; married to a man whom I hadnever seen except for a brief quarter of an hour, who knew not myname, and had never seen me at all--making allowance for the state ofdrunkenness in which he was married; that I knew this man's name, buthe knew not mine; that I met him at Epsom, and that he had fallen inlove with me, and I, God help me! with him. Yet that there was no wayout of it, no escape but that before he could marry me (again) I mustneeds confess the deceit of which I had been guilty. No Heaven, say theRoman Catholics, without Purgatory. Yet suppose, after going throughPurgatory, one were to miss one's Heaven!
How could I best go to my lord and tell him?
He was in hiding, in the Rules of the Fleet, and in our old lodginglooking over the Fleet Market by one window, and over Fleet Lane by theother--a pleasant lodging for so great a lord. Could I go down to him,in hoops and satin, to tell him in that squalid place the whole truth?Yet go I must.
Now, while we drove rapidly along the road, which is smooth and evenbetween Epsom, or at least between Streatham and London, a thought cameinto my mind which wanted, after a little, nothing but the consent ofMrs. Esther. A dozen times was I upon the point of telling her all, andas many times did I refrain, because I reflected that, although sheknew all about the carrying away of girls from the romances which sheread, a secret marriage in the Fleet, although she had lived so long inthe Rules, and even knew my uncle and thought him the greatest of men,was a thing outside her experience, and would therefore only terrifyher and confuse her. Therefore I resolved to tell her no more than Iwas obliged.
But then my plans made it necessary that I should leave her for awhile--two or three days, perhaps, or even more.
So soon, therefore, as we had unpacked our trunks, and Mrs. Esther wasseated in an arm-chair to rest after the fatigues of the rapid journey,I began upon the subject of getting away from her, hypocriticallypleading my duty towards the Doctor, my uncle. I said that I thoughtI ought to pay him a visit, and that after my return to London hewould certainly take it unkindly if I did not; that, considering thecharacter of the place in which he unhappily resided, it was not to bethought that a person of Mrs. Esther's sensibility could be exposedto its rudeness; and that, with her permission, I would the next daytake a coach, and, unless the Doctor detained me, I would return in theafternoon.
We had so firmly maintained our resolution to forget the past, thatMrs. Esther only smiled when I spoke of the rudeness of the market, andsaid that no doubt it was desirable for a gentlewoman to keep away fromrude and unpolished people, so that the elevation of her mind might notbe disturbed by unpleasant or harassing scenes. At the same time, sheadded, there were reasons, doubtless, why I should from time to timeseek out that great and good man (now in misfortune) to whom we allowed a debt of gratitude which never could be repaid. She thereforegave me permission to go there, it being understood that I was to beconveyed thither, and back again, in a coach.
In the morning, after breakfast, I dressed myself for the journey, and,because I thought it likely that I might remain for one night at least,and perhaps more, I took with me a bag containing my oldest and poorestclothes, those, namely, in which I was dressed while in the market.Then I wrapped myself in a hood which I could pull, if necessary, overmy face, and, so disguised, I stole down the stairs.
London streets are safe for a young woman in the morning, when thethrong of people to and fro keeps rogues honest. I walked throughFetter Lane, remembering that here Solomon Stallabras was born--indeed,I passed a little shop over which the name was painted on a swingingsign of the Silver Garter, so that one of his relatives still carriedon the business. Then I walked along Fleet Street, crowded with chairs,carriages, waggons, and porters. The Templars were lounging about thegates of their Inns; the windows of the many vintners' houses were wideopen, and within them were gentlemen, drinking wine, early as it was;the coffee-houses were full of tradesmen who would have been better athome behind their counters; ladies were crowding into the shops, havingthings turned over for them; 'prentices jostled each other behind theposts; grave gentlemen walked slowly along, carrying their canes beforethem, like wands of office; swaggering young fellows took the wall ofevery one, except of each other; the street was full of the shouting,noise, and quarrelling which I remembered so well. At the end was thebridge with its quacks bawling their wares which they warranted tocure everything, and its women selling hot furmety, oysters, and fish.Beyond the bridge rose before me the old gate of Lud, which has sincebeen pulled down, and on the left was the Fleet Market, at sight ofwhich, as of an old friend, I could have burst into tears.
The touters and runners for the Fleet parsons were driving their tradeas merrily as ever. Among them I recognised my old friend Roger, whodid not see me. By the blackness of one eye, and the brown papersticking to his forehead, one could guess that competition among thebrethren of his craft had been more than usually severe of late.
Prosperity, I thought to myself, works speedy changes with us. Wasit really possible that I had spent six long months and more in thisstinking, noisy, and intolerable place? Why, could I have had onemoment of happiness when not only was I surrounded by infamy in everyshape, but I had no hope or prospect of being rescued? In eight shortmonths these things had grown to seem impossible. Death itself, Ithought, would be preferable to living among such people and in themidst of such scenes.
I recognised them all: it gave me pain to feel how familiar they were:the mean, scowling faces, stamped with the seal of wicked lives andwicked thoughts--such face
s must those souls wear who are lost beyondredemption: and the deformed men and boys who seemed to select thismarket as their favourite haunt. There are many more deformed amongthe poor than with the better sort, by reason of the accidents whichbefall their neglected children and maim them for life. That wouldaccount for the presence of many of these monsters, but not of all; Isuppose some of them come to the market because the labour of handlingand carrying the fruit and vegetables is light, though poorly paid.
There were hunchbacks in great plenty; those whose feet were clubbed,whose legs were knock-kneed, whose feet were turned inward, whose eyessquinted. I looked about me for--but did not see--a certain dreadfulwoman whom I remembered, who sold shell-fish at a stall and had fingerswebbed like a duck; but there was the other dreadful woman still inher place, whose upper lip was horrid to look at for hair; there wasthe cobbler who refused to shave because he said it was unscriptural,and so sat like one of the ancients with a long white beard; therewere, alas! the little children, pale, hungry-looking, with eager,sharp eyes, in training for the whip, the gallows, or the plantation.They ran about among the baskets; they sat or stood among the stallswaiting for odd jobs, messages and parcels to carry; they prowled aboutlooking for a chance to steal: it was all as I remembered it, yet hadforgotten so quickly. On the right the long wall of the Fleet Prison;beyond that, the Doctor's house, his name painted on the door. I pulledmy hood closer over my face and passed it by, because before payingmy respects to my uncle I was going to make inquiries about the man Iloved.
He was, as I knew, in our old lodgings. He slept, unconscious, in myroom; he sat where I had so often sat; the place ought to have remindedhim of me. But he knew nothing; the name of Kitty Pleydell was not yetassociated in his mind with the Rules of the Fleet.
When we went away, one of those who bade us God-speed and shed tearsover our departure was Mrs. Dunquerque, who, as I have told, livedabove us with her husband, Captain Dunquerque, and her two littlegirls. The captain, who was not a good man or a kind man, drank andgambled when he got any money, and left his poor wife and children tostarve. It was to her that I meant to go. She was a kind-hearted woman,and fond of me for certain favours I had been able to show her littlegirls. I was sure to find her in the same lodgings, because in theRules no one ever changes.
I came to the house: I pulled the hood so close about my face thathad my lord met me he would not have known me. The door was standingwide open, as usual. I entered and mounted the stairs. The door of theroom--our old room, on the first-floor--was half open. Within--oh, myheart!--I saw my lord sitting at the table, with paper before him, penin hand. I dared not wait, lest he might discover me, but hastenedupstairs to Mrs. Dunquerque's room.
I was fortunate enough to find her at home. The captain was goneabroad, and had taken the children with him for a morning's walk. Shesat at home, as usual, darning, mending, and making. But oh! the cryof pleasure and surprise when she saw me, and the kisses she gaveme, and the praise at my appearance, and the questions after Mrs.Esther! I told her of all, including Sir Miles Lackington and SolomonStallabras's good fortune. Then she began to tell me of herself.They were as poor as when we went away; but their circumstances hadimproved in one important particular; for though the captain was nomore considerate (as I guessed from a word she dropped), and drank andgambled whenever he could, they had a friend who sent them withoutfail what was more useful to them than money--food and clothes for thechildren and their mother. She did not know who the friend was, butthe supplies never failed, being as regular as those brought by theprophet's ravens.
I did not need to be told the name of this friend, for, in truth, I hadmyself begged the Doctor to extend his charity to this poor family, andasked him to send them beef and pudding, which the children could eat,rather than money, which the captain would drink. This he promised todo. Truly, charity, in his case, ought to have covered a multitudeof sins, for he had a hand ever open to give, and a heart to pity;moreover, he gave in secret, and never did his right hand know what hisleft hand was doing.
Then I opened my business to Mrs. Dunquerque, but only partially.
I told her that on the first-floor, in the rooms formerly occupiedby ourselves, there was a young gentleman, well known to Sir MilesLackington, who had reason to be out of sight for a short time; thathe was also known to myself--here I blushed, and my friend nodded andlaughed, being interested, as all women are, in the discovery of a lovesecret; that I was anxious for his welfare; that I had made the excuseof paying a visit to the Doctor in order to be near him: that, in fact,I would be about him, wait upon him, and watch over him, without hisknowledge of my presence.
"But he will most certainly know thee, child," she cried. "Tell me, mydear, is he in love with thee?"
"He says so," I replied. "Perhaps he tells the truth."
"And you? O Kitty! to think of you only a year ago!"
"There is no doubt about me," I said; "for, oh! dear Mrs. Dunquerque,I am head over ears in love with him. Yet I will so contrive that heshall not know me, if you will help."
"And what can I do?"
"Make his acquaintance; go and see him; tell him that he must want someone to do for him; offer to send him your maid Phoebe--yes, Phoebe.Then I will go, and, if he speaks to me, which is not likely, I willanswer in a feigned voice. Go, now, Mrs. Dunquerque. I will dress forPhoebe."
She laughed and went away.
My lord lifted his head as she knocked at the door.
"I ask your pardon, sir," she said, "for this intrusion. I live aboveyou, upon the second-floor, with my husband and children. I suppose,sir, that, like the rest of us in this place, you come here becauseyou cannot help it, and a pity it is to find so young a gentleman thusearly shipwrecked."
"I thank you, madam," said my lord, bowing, "for this goodwill."
"The will is nothing, sir, because people in misfortune ought to helpeach other when they can. Therefore, sir, and because I perceive thatyour room is not what a gentleman's should be, being inch thick withdust, I will, with your permission, send down my maid when you go out,who may make you clean and tidy."
"I shall not go out," replied my lord; "but I thank you for the offerof the girl. I dare say the place might be cleaner."
"She is a girl, sir," replied Mrs. Dunquerque, "who will not disturbyou by any idle chatter. Phoebe!" Here she stepped out upon thestairs. "Phoebe! Come downstairs this minute, and bring a duster."
When Phoebe came, she was a girl whose hair was pulled over hereyes, and she had the corner of her apron in her mouth; she wore abrown stuff frock, not down to her ankles; her hands where whiterthan is generally found in a servant; her apron was of the kind whichservant-maids use to protect their frocks, and she wore a great captied under the chin and awry, as happens to maids in the course oftheir work; in one respect, beside her hands, Phoebe was differentfrom the ordinary run of maidservants--her shoes and stockings were sofine that she feared his lordship would notice them.
But he noticed her not at all--neither shoes, nor hands, nor cap, norapron, which, though it was foolish, made this servant-girl feel alittle pained.
"Phoebe," said Mrs. Dunquerque, "you will wait upon this gentleman,and fetch him what he wants. And now do but look at the dusteverywhere. Saw one ever such untidiness? Quick, girl, with the duster,and make things clean. Dear me! to think of this poor gentlemansitting up to his eyes, as one may say, in a peck of dust!"
She stood in the room, with her work in her hand, rattling on aboutthe furniture and the fineness of the day, and the brightness of theroom, which had two windows, and the noise of the market, which, shesaid, the young gentleman would mind, more than nothing at all, after awhile. As for the dreadful language of the porters and fishwives, that,she said, was not pleasant at first, but after a little one got, so tosay, used to it, and you no more expected that one of these wretchesshould speak without breaking the third commandment and shocking earsused to words of purity and piety, than you would expect his Grace theArchbishop of Canterb
ury himself to use the language of the market.She advised the young gentleman, further, for his own good, not to sitalone and mope, but to go abroad and ruffle it with the rest, to keepa stout heart, to remember that Fortune frowns one day and smiles thenext, being a deity quite capricious and untrustworthy; therefore thatit behoved a young man to have hope; and she exhorted him in this endto seek out cheerful company, such as that of the great Doctor Shovel,the only Chaplain of the Fleet, as learned as a bishop and as merry asa monk: or even to repair to the prison and play tennis and racquetswith the gentlemen therein confined: but, above all, not to sit aloneand brood. Why, had he never a sweetheart to whom he could write, andsend sweet words of love, whereby the heart of the poor thing would belightened, and her affections fixed?
So she rattled on, while I, nothing loth, plied duster, and cleaned upfurniture with a zeal surpassing that of any housemaid. Yet, becausemen never observe what is under their eyes, he observed nothing of allthis activity. If I had crawled as slowly as possible over the work, itwould have been all one to him.
Presently I came to the table at which he was sitting. This, too, wascovered with dust. (It had been our table formerly, and had grown oldin the service of the Pimpernel ladies.) I brushed away the dust withgreat care, and in so doing, I saw that he had a letter before him,just begun. It commenced with these enchanting words--
"Love of my soul! My goddess Kitty----"
Oh that I could have fallen at his feet, then and there, and told himall! But I could not; I was afraid.
He had, as yet, written nothing more. But on a piece of paper besidethe letter he had traced the outlines of a woman's head. Whose headshould it be, I ask you, but Kitty's?
I was amazed at the sight. My colour came and went.
"Phoebe," cried Mrs. Dunquerque warningly, "be careful how you touchthe papers! There, sir, we have your room straight for you. It looks alittle cleaner than it did awhile since."
"Surely," he replied, without looking around. "Yes, I am trulyobliged to you, madam. As for this girl"--still he would not look atme--"perhaps----"
He placed a whole crown-piece in my hand. A crown-piece for such asimple piece of work! Enough to make the best of housemaids grasping!This is how men spoil servants.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" I asked, in a feigned voice.
"Nothing, child, nothing. Stay--yes. One must eat a little, sometimes.Get me some dinner by-and-by."
This was all for that time. We went away, and we spent the rest of themorning in making him such a little dinner as we thought must pleasehim. First we got from the market a breast of veal, which we roastedwith a little stuffing, and dished with a slice or two of bacon, nicelybroiled, some melted butter made with care, and a lemon. This, to mymind, forms a dish fit for a prince. We added to this some haricotbeans, with butter and sweet herbs, and a dish of young potatoes. Thenwe made a little fruit pudding and a custard, nicely browned, and, attwo o'clock, put all upon a tray, and I carried it downstairs, stillwith my hair over my eyes, my cap still awry, and the corner of theapron still in my teeth.
I set the food before him and waited to serve him. But he would not letme.
Ah! had he known how I longed to do something for him, and what ahappiness it was simply to make his dinner, to prepare his vegetablesfor him, and to boil his pudding! But how should he guess?
I found Sir Miles's bottle of wine untouched in the cupboard, andplaced it on the table. Then I left him to his meal. When I returned, Ifound he had eaten next to nothing. One could have cried with vexation.
"Lord, sir," I said, still in my feigned voice, "if you do not eat youwill be ill. Is there never a body that loves you?"
He started, but hardly looked at me.
"A trick of voice," he said. "Yet it reminded me--Is there anybody wholoves me, child? I think there is. To be sure, there is some one whom Ilove."
"Then, sir, you ought to eat, if only to please her, by keeping welland strong."
"Well, well! I dare say I shall be hungry to-morrow. You can take awaythe things, Phoebe, if that is what they call you."
I could say no more, but was fain to obey. Then as I could do no morefor him, I took up the tray and resolved to go and see the Doctor, withwhom I had much to say. Therefore I put off my servant's garb, with theapron and cap, and drew the hood over my face again.
The Doctor's busy time was in the morning. In the afternoon, afterdinner, he mostly slept in his arm-chair, over a pipe of tobacco. Ifound him alone thus enjoying himself. I know not whether he slept ormeditated, for the tobacco was still burning, though his eyes wereclosed.
There is this peculiarity about noise in London, that people who livein it and sleep in it do not notice it. Thus while there was a horriblealtercation outside his very windows--a thing which happened every day,and all day long--the Doctor regarded it not at all. Yet he heard meopen and shut the door, and was awake instantly.
"Kitty!" he cried. "Why, child, what dost thou here?"
"I hope, sir," I said, "that I find you in good health and spirits."
"Reasonable good, Kitty. A man of my years, be he never so temperateand regular in his habits, finds the slow tooth of time gnawing uponhim. Let me look at thy face. Humph! one would say that the air ofEpsom is good for young maids' cheeks. But why in Fleet Market, child?"
"Partly, sir, I came to see you, and partly----"
"To see some one else, of whose lodging in the Rules I have been toldby Sir Miles Lackington. Tell me--the young man whom he wounded, is hedead?"
"Nay, sir, not dead, but grievously wounded, and in a high fever."
"So. A man in early manhood, who has been wounded by a sword runningthrough his vitals, who four days after the event is still living,though in a high fever--that man, methinks, is likely to recover,unless his physician, as is generally the case, is an ass. For, mydear, there are as many incompetent physicians as there are incapablepreachers. Their name is Legion. Well, Kitty, you came about LordChudleigh. Have you seen him?"
"Yes; but, sir, he does not know that I am here. I saw him"--here Iblushed again--"in disguise as a housemaid."
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the Doctor. "Why, girl, thou hast more spiritthan I gave thee credit for. Thou deservest him, and shalt have him,too. The time is come." He rose and folded his gown about him, and puton his wig, which for coolness' sake he had laid aside. "I will go tohim and say, 'My lord, the person to whom you were married is no otherthan----'"
"Oh! no, sir. I pray you do not speak to him in such fashion. Pray hearme first."
"Well--well. Let us hear this little baggage." The Doctor was invery good spirits, and eager to unfold this tale. He sat down again,however, and took up his pipe. "Go on, then, Kitty; go on--I amlistening."
This was, indeed, a very critical moment of my life. For on this momentdepended, I foresaw, all my happiness. I therefore hesitated a little,thinking what to say and how to say it. Then I began.
I reminded my uncle that, when I first came under his protection, Iwas a young girl fresh from the country, who knew but little evil,suspected none, and in all things had been taught to respect and fearmy betters. I then reminded him how, while in this discipline of mind,I was one morning called away by him, and ordered to go through acertain form which (granting that I well knew it to be the Englishform of marriage service) I could not really believe to mean that Iwas married. And though my uncle assured me afterwards that such wasthe case, I so little comprehended that it could be possible, thatI had almost forgotten the whole event. Then, I said, we had goneaway from the Rules of the Fleet, and found ourselves under happiercircumstances, where new duties made me still more forget this strangething. Presently we went to Epsom, whither, in the strangest way,repaired the very man I had married.
After this, I told him, the most wonderful thing in the world happenedto me. For not only did my lord fall in love with me, his legal wife,but he gave me to understand that the only obstacle to his marrying mewas that business in the Fleet, of which he informed me at lengt
h.
"Very good," said the Doctor. "Things could not go better. If the manhas fallen in love with the girl, he ought to be pleased that she ishis wife."
Nay: that would not do either; for here another thing of which theDoctor had no experience, being a man. For when a woman falls in lovewith a man she must needs make herself as virtuous and pure in mind asshe is brave in her dress, in order the more to please him and fix hisaffection. And what sort of love would that be where a woman shouldglory, as it were, in deception?
Why, his love would be changed, if not into loathing, then into alower kind of love, in which admiration of a woman's beauty forms thewhole part. Now, if beauty is everything, even Helen of Troy would bea miserable woman, a month after marriage, when her husband would growtired of her.
"Alas!" I cried, "I love him. If you tell him, as he must now be told,that I was the woman who took a part in that shameful business--yes,sir, even to your face I must needs call it shameful--you may tell himat once that I release him so far as I can. I will not acknowledge themarriage. I will go into no court of law, nor will I give any evidenceto establish my rights----"
"Whom God hath joined----" the Doctor began.
"Oh! I know--I know. And you are a clergyman of the Church, with powerand authority by laying on of hands. Yet I cannot think, I cannot feelthat any blessing of heaven could rest upon a union performed in sucha place. Is this room, nightly desecrated by revellers, a church? Isyour profligate wretch Roger a clerk? Where were the banns put up? Whatbells were rung?"
"Banns are no longer fashionable," he replied. "But let me think." Hewas not angry with my plainness of speech, but rather the contrary."Let me think." He went to his cupboard, took out his great register,and turned over the leaves. "Ay! here it is, having a page to itself:Geoffrey Lord Chudleigh to Catherine Pleydell. Your ladyship is astruly Lady Chudleigh as his mother was before him. But if you _will_give up that title and dignity"--here he smiled and tore out the page,but carefully--"I will not baulk thee, child. Here is the register,and here the certificate of the wedding." He put both together, andlaid them carefully aside. "Come to me to-morrow, and I will then gowith you to his lordship and give him these papers to deal with as hepleases."
The Chaplain of the Fleet Page 37