by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XIII
I FIND OUT CYNTHIA: CYNTHIA FINDS OUT ME
It was in this agreeable fashion that my unlucky friends obtained theirrelease. The justice was in no condition to cope with Mr. Fielding'speremptory ways; and the constable, seeing and caring nothing beyondthe advantage to his own personal comfort, was not at all disposed towait until the magistrate was in a better condition to express hisopinions and good pleasure. Thus he bowed to Sir Thomas whilst thatinarticulate gentleman was still wrestling with his thick speech,assured him his will should be obeyed, and that he would see to it thathis officers made a good supper in the kitchen, and took his departurewithout any reluctance whatever.
"So much for that matter," says Mr. Fielding, highly pleased with thesuccess of his own ingenuity. "We have robbed the gallows of eightgood necks and true, which is, I think, a pretty liberal evening'swork. Yet as this is a night for good works, let us spend itfittingly. Ring the bell, Tommie, ring the bell. The last of thesebottles died a full two minutes ago."
Unfortunately Sir Thomas was in no condition at this stage to complywith such a request, and Mr. Fielding had perforce to perform thatoffice himself. A fresh relay of wine was brought, and our glasseswere filled up again. Sitting here in the midst of these insidiousallurements, well found in all bodily comfort and good companionship,it needed but a corresponding ease of mind to be as perfectly contentas Mr. Fielding himself. I had been most providentially delivered froma very real and immediate peril, had contributed to the saving of eightpoor people from the gallows, and had exchanged the cold night for afar happier sanctuary; but with all this, I was nearly at the verge ofdespair. Where was Cynthia? What had happened to that poor child, andhow could we hope to come together again! Neither of us knew in whichdirection the other had gone; and to search for each other in that darknight was clearly impossible, seeing how complete was our ignorance ofthe neighbouring country.
In my distraught state I mentioned my unhappy case to Mr. Fielding.He, with the sanguine temper that seemed to be so strangelycharacteristic of him, pooh-poohed my fears, and swore that all wouldcome right by the morning.
"I will wager you the last guinea I have got in the world," says he,"which by the way I borrowed from Tommie to bear me back to FleetStreet to-morrow, that you will see her pretty face in this parlourbefore you are prepared to leave it. Why, man, if she hath any wit atall she will remain with the gypsies until they discover whither youhave been taken, and then she will come to Tommie with a mighty longtale and a mighty heart-moving countenance. I suppose it is that mywit runs wonderfully clear to-night, for I confess I can see the wholecourse of this matter as plain as the back of my hand."
Mr. Fielding declared his opinions with such an energy, that in spiteof myself I half subscribed to them. Indeed, as he pointed out,nothing could be done by repining. But as he followed up this lastsage reflection in a manner peculiarly his own, no less than by theopening of a new bottle, I am not sure that the occasion itself was notthe source of his wisdom. "_Vino diffigiunt mordaces curae_," says he,"an old, old tag, but a monstrous good one. Come, my dear fellow, donot spoil the excellent impression you have already made. I am sure tomump and moan is not in you; besides, you would be the last to haveyourself numbered among the Tommies of the world, the half-bottle men.You are capable to bear me company for many an hour yet. Come, let usgrapple with melancholy and put him to sleep."
I was in such a state of maudlin misery by this, thanks to the wine Ihad already drunk, and my dubious speculation in regard to Cynthia,that I soon fell a-prey to Mr. Fielding's importuning. That lustyfull-blooded fellow was not to be denied. As I accepted glass afterglass of the insidious liquor from his hands, I felt my resolutionweaken as of old, and that same sense of large content and utterheedlessness of the morrow steal upon me. As my brain grew hotter andheavier and less capable of thinking and doing, Cynthia's absence grewless poignant to it, and my own situation of the moment more perfectlyacceptable. It was truly Elysian to sit in this warm room and in thismellow society, after having been without a roof to one's head and insuch peril for so many hours. The sense of abandoning oneself by slowdegrees and against one's proper judgment to this forbidden pleasure,was fraught with a delight that it is only in the power of the illicitto bestow. At the same time that I knew Mr. Fielding's point of viewwas specious and worthless, _vide_ the teachings of a bitterexperience, I could hardly find it in my heart to resist his wit, thecompliment of his good-fellowship, his whole-hearted gaiety. He wassuch a lovable spirit that he would have seduced the first of thePharisees to hang with him at Tyburn, for the sake of thecompanionship. It would have taken sterner stuff than was ever in meto deny or resist him.
It was not long before the justice was so overcome by the contents ofhis cellar that he drooped his head on the table and straightway fellfast asleep. Mr. Fielding, who was himself so seasoned that his facehardly shone as yet, laughed, and says with a kind of kingly pity:
"What a penny-halfpenny haberdasher of a man it is! _C'est un vraiepicier_. Strip him of his paunch, his purse, and his knighthood, andthere remains one who hath no more parts than a Presbyterian. If Iwere old Sir John, I would undertake to make a better man out of acheese paring. It is a pretty behaviour in him, when we are sitting atthis table, bearing ourselves so gallantly before his claret. Butafter all, I would prefer that his honour should speak with his noserather than with his mouth. Both organs are equally witty; and we areunder no obligation to answer his lustiest performances in that style."
It was not long before I began to feel some inklings of a dispositionto imitate Sir Thomas. Fortunately Mr. Fielding did not observe it inme; and he on his side was so brisk and jovial-hearted that he easilyfound enough of conversation for us both. And he was so prolific thatI am sure he would have been the last to notice it. My bosom was nolonger torn with the same pain when my thoughts reverted to Cynthia.My wits were so deadened that I had a sort of sweet sorrow instead; thesorrow whose expression is an amiable snuffling melancholy, and atender reflection on the days that are past. I was fast sinking intothe depths of this maudlin condition, when a diversion occurred thatmercifully kept me from it, even as my mind tottered on the brink. Aservant entered with the information that a woman was at the hall doordemanding to see the justice on a most particular business. In aninstant a great possibility possessed me completely, and startled meout of the bibulous lassitude that was creeping upon me.
"What kind of a woman?" I asked eagerly, "A very beautiful woman, amost adorably beautiful woman, with the voice of a nightingale and asdainty in her carriage as, as---- Fielding, an you love me, give me asimile--as dainty as----"
"The swift Camilla," says he instantly, "the virgin Volscian queen, asshe
'Flies o'er th' unbending corn, or skims along the main,'
in the crude language of the crookbacked Twickenham bard. If you werenot so drunk I would give it you in Virgil's eleganter tongue."
"I don't know what the female's like in her carriage," says the fellow,regarding us both with a very natural bewilderment, "for she's not comein no carriage, do you see. She's come afoot. But she's a shortishwench, with a pert tongue, and she's a-crying like fun."
Prosaic as this description was, and sensibly differing as it did fromthe one I had furnished, I was sure that the female was no other thanCynthia. That there could be other shortish wenches in the world withpert tongues, who were capable of crying like fun, never entered myhead. It may have been that I had so continually brooded on her fate,or the guilt of my conscience was so keen as to lead me to thisconclusion on such slender grounds. Relieved as I was, I yet had sometwinges of contrition. Despite my heavy-witted state I was fully aliveto it, and mightily uneasy as to the figure I must make in her eyes.
"A pretty kettle of fish," says I, "that I should be as drunk----"
"As a lord," suggested Mr. Fielding.
"As drunk as a lord on our wedding-day. I pray you have pity on mystate
, sir, and help me out as much as you can."
"My dear fellow," says Mr. Fielding, "this is no sort of talk. It isunworthy of you. Why, nothing could have been better contrived, sir.Can anything be more commendable than that a man should begin as hemeans to go on. One cannot begin too soon to bring up one's wifeproperly."
"Poor little toad," says I. "When she sees me like this I am sure shewill weep more bitterly."
"Hath she never seen you drunk before?" says Fielding.
"Never," says I.
"It is time she did then," says he. "But after all, as it is yourwedding-day there may be some little reason for your perturbation. Sheis still the first woman in Christendom, I suppose, and you are stillthe true prince. It can contribute nothing to the welfare of eitherfor you to be seen at such little advantage. Get thee behind thescreen there and leave this to me."
Having still enough wit to be fully aware of my unfortunate condition;and being at the same time assailed with many pangs for having socallously sat down to my ease before the bottle, whilst I was seeminglycontent to allow her to roam the night to find me, I felt trulyshamefaced and hangdog. I was but too ready therefore to embrace anyproposal that might alleviate my position. Certainly Mr. Fielding hada much better command of himself than I had, and was therefore muchmore fitted to receive her. Besides, I was so deeply imbued with mydesperate case that I counted on his ready wit to shield me from anexposure.
Therefore I stumbled into concealment behind the screen, and drunk as Iwas, I was sufficiently sober to follow and to keenly appreciate thewhimsical scene that was enacted before my eyes. Sir Thomas beinghopelessly surrendered to Morpheus, Mr. Fielding profanely assumed hischaracter. But at least the mad rogue played it with a far finerspirit and _abandon_ than the justice could have done. When my poorlittle Cynthia was ushered in, for she it was undoubtedly, he rose,gout and all, to greet her, and bowed very low.
"Pray take a seat, madam, pray take a seat," says he, with aninimitable gesture of politeness. "And if there is any small servicethat you would have me render you you have only to put a name to it,and you may consider it rendered."
My poor little one, who was very pale and trembled with apprehension,peered out of the hood of her cloak with the tears still in her eyes.Despite Mr. Fielding's obvious gallantry she gazed at him with a dimdistrust, and then cast a look of downright fearfulness in thedirection of the heavy-slumbering Sir Thomas. It was the first time Ihad been in a situation to observe these feminine timidities in her,and methought they enhanced her a hundredfold.
"I would not have you regard that fuddle-witted fellow, madam," saysMr. Fielding, mad wag as he was. "He is but a common hackney writer ofa man, Henry Fielding by name, who hath come out of Grub Street to takethe country air. And the country air hath proved too strong for him,do you see. Do not regard that fellow, madam: believe me he is quiteunworthy of your attention."
The excess of chivalry with which this was uttered did something tocompose poor Cynthia; though why such flummery should have imposed uponher I cannot tell. Even a parcel of lies, if it is made up into thesemblance of a delicate attention, can do a great work with that sex,apparently. Anyhow, Cynthia sufficiently overcame her trepidation tofind the courage to ask:
"Are you Sir Thomas Wheatley, sir?"
"You can call me that, madam," says Mr. Fielding.
"Then do you know anything of my--my husband?" says Cynthia.
"Your husband, madam," says he. "I did not know that you had ahusband. Since when have you had a husband, madam?"
At this point Cynthia blushed divinely. All her proverbial pertnesswas fled. The situation was too great for the foibles she hadacquired. She stood forth in her strange predicament just a simplerustic maid, who longed to express her misery in tears, but was tooproud to do so. Thus, with an ingenuousness that I had never observedin her before, she faltered:
"Since--since this morning, sir."
"Since this morning, madam," says Fielding, "and you have lost himalready. Is it credible? He did not leave you at the church door, Ihope."
"He did not leave me at all, sir," says Cynthia.
"Then if he did not leave you at all, madam, why is he not with younow?" says Mr. Fielding.
Little by little, with numberless hesitations and small attempts atconcealment on her part, and many sly quips and verbal quibbles on hisown, the roguish fellow drew out of her a fair account of the state ofthe case. Cynthia's anxiety to conceal her husband's name and how hecame to be placed in such an unhappy pass, afforded Mr. Fielding agreat deal of pleasure. He was continually springing awkward questionsupon her with a wonderful appearance of judicial innocence; and toobserve the unfortunate chit wriggle and contort herself out of many anawkward corner was as good as a play. It was a cruel sport, perhaps,and I half thought it so at the time; but I am sure Fielding did nothold it to be such, for I do not think it was in him wittingly to givepain to anyone. This whimsical by-play was really directed against me,for when he had got her into a more than usually tight corner he wouldlook at me, as I frowned at him from my hiding-place, with a face thatdared me to intervene.
"I am afraid, madam," says Fielding, "you are not dealing with me quitefairly. I must really assure you that this repeated and noticeableconcealment--I can use no less explicit term--of your husband's name ismost embarrassing. With the best will in the world to serve yourinterests, and to aid you to the extent of my poor ability, how can Igive you any information about your husband if you will not take me farenough into your confidence to vouchsafe me his name? Even though I ama justice of the peace, I do not pretend to any supernatural knowledge.I am no mystery-reader, nor a worker of miracles."
Poor Cynthia's dilemma was desperate. She did not know how to act. Ishook my fist at the wicked wag, and began to wish heartily that I hadnot added to my other weaknesses by shirking the consequences of them.I longed to come to her aid. But I had less desire than ever to exposemyself now; and after all here was a very pretty comedy.
"Come, come, madam," says Mr. Fielding. "I would not have you triflewith justice in this manner. What is your husband's name?"
"His name is Smith," says she at last, taking the name we had beenmarried in.
The pseudo-justice expressed his disappointment. He grieved to saythat to the best of his knowledge no person of that name had calledupon him that evening.
"But he was among the gypsies that were brought to your house thisevening," Cynthia persisted. "What is become of them?"
"Is your husband a gypsy, madam?" says he. "I should have thought itnot at all likely, to judge by the appearance of his wife?"
"No, he is not," says she.
"Then why is he concerned with gypsies in such a scandalous charge?"
At every turn the mischievous fellow contrived some new means ofembarrassing her story; and at the same time he embarrassed my patiencealso, as he very well knew. But it was quite in vain for me to publishmy threats from behind the screen. Both of us were delivered into hishands.
"I am disappointed that he was among the gypsies, madam," says he,"since they were discharged and sent away several hours ago."
"Oh," says Cynthia eagerly, "how glad I am to hear that!" But then herface fell. "How may I find him?" she says, very anxiously.
"Nay, madam," says Fielding, "that is more than I can tell. But I amdisappointed to hear that his name is Smith. You are sure his name isSmith, madam?"
Cynthia hesitated between hope and fear. Could it be possible that mytrue name had been discovered, and that concealment was no longerdesirable or necessary?
"It is most strange, madam," says her relentless persecutor, "that youshould not be certain of the name of your own husband. I suppose youcould not by any chance have made a mistake in regard to the name ofhim?"
"I might have done," poor Cynthia faltered; whilst I felt such anoverpowering desire to execute a prompt vengeance on the wretch that itwas as much as I could do to remain in my seclusion.
Poor Mrs. Cynthia had completely lost her bearings by this. She wasutterly nonplussed, and looked at the wicked Fielding as helplessly asa child. She was still unable to overcome her scruples about revealingmy real name. To do so to a justice of the peace of all people in theworld was like to be a most imprudent act. But at the same time shecould not rid her mind of the thought that he already knew more than hewould tell.
"Tivy or Trivy or Tantivy," says Mr. Fielding; "you are sure his nameis nothing of that sort? Now could it by any chance be Tiverton?"
At this mention of my name Cynthia was unable to go further with herimposture. With a face of much confusion and distress she made theconfession.
"Well, madam," says Mr. Fielding reproachfully, "why could you not havesaid so at once without so much beating about the bush? Really thename of Smith was too facile, too obvious. Now as it happens, I am ina position to know where my Lord Tiverton is."
"Oh, sir," says Cynthia, clasping her hands, "I beseech you to tell meof his whereabouts."
"Yes, my dear madam," says Mr. Fielding, "that I will, on onecondition."
Mrs. Cynthia eagerly asked it.
"That you give me a kiss," says Mr. Fielding. "I vow and protest,madam, I never saw a creature more divinely handsome."
My breath was almost taken away by the audacity of the villain, as Ifear he had intended that it should be. But what could I contribute tothe situation beyond a few impotent threats, made in dumb show? I wasnever had at a greater disadvantage in my life? It was in vain thatCynthia evaded the demand, and besought him by the name of humanity totell her where I lay. The spirit of mischief in the fellow, inflamedby the quantity of wine he had drunk, caused him to brook no denial.
"Come, my dear madam," says he, "one kiss from those dainty lips is allI seek. Then i'faith shall you know where your husband lies."
"You are no gentleman, sir," says Cynthia, with more spirit than shehad yet shown.
"No, only a justice of the peace," says he.
"It is cruel of you," says Cynthia, flaming, "to drive such a bargainin these circumstances. You know it is not in my power to say you naywhen so much is at stake."
"To be sure I do," says he, favouring me with a triumphing look. "Andas for the cruelty of it, surely the onus of that matter lies with you.Is it not your adorable sex that provokes that which it denies? It isever a point with me that if I can ever take any little revenge uponyou, I take it with an easy conscience, knowing full well that youbeauteous ladies have scored up such a heavy tally of cruelties as cannever be expunged. Besides, madam, where is this cruelty you speak of?Am I not at least as well favoured as this ugly profligate LordTiverton of yours; and is there not the additional advantage of my notbeing your lawful wedded husband?"
"I would that Lord Tiverton were here to hear you say this," saysCynthia indignantly.
"Bah," says Mr. Fielding, "the water-blooded fellow, I would that hewere too, then I with five pints of good claret in me would prove uponhis miserable person how mean a figure he doth cut."
It was with the utmost difficulty that I could hold back at thischallenge. I might be very drunk, and therefore doubly disposed toresent such wanton insults; but I was also sober enough to be awarethat they were not prompted by ill-nature. It was a piece of mischiefmerely. We were entirely at his mercy, and he proposed to torment usto death. Could a fourth person have witnessed this play, he wouldhave found it a truly diverting affair. First Cynthia was made towrithe, and then I; and then both of us together; yet at the same timeeach quite unknown to the other; whilst the audacious rogue of a fellowmocked at us both, and defied us to prevent ourselves being maderidiculous. The unfortunate Cynthia was led on by his disparagement ofme to take up the cudgels warmly on my behalf. The sly look ofsatisfaction that shone in him when she did so, was proof enough, ifany were needed, that she was still ministering to his diversion.
"I give you the lie there, sir," says she angrily. "How dare youpresume to malign such a noble brave gentleman! You utter behind hisback that which you dare not utter to his face."
"Good a thousand times," says Mr. Fielding. "This is delightful.Harkee, my noble, brave gentleman, and tell me if I do not utter it toyour face!"
I clenched my fists; I vowed to myself I would not suffer this impudentsport another minute. But then there was no gainsaying that I wasabominably drunk; that my pretty innocent was but a child; and that itwas our wedding-day. Come what may, I must bear with the fellow's madhumour for the present, and requite him in a more seasonable hour.
Cynthia might be angry and I extremely discomposed, but Mr. Fieldingstill pressed his jest.
"No, madam, I will not be put off with your arrogance," says he. "Idemand one token from those charming lips as the price of thesatisfaction that you seek."
Covered with a modest confusion, Cynthia was preparing to comply withthis demand unwillingly enough, when I was no longer able to contain myjust resentment. Whatever the consequences, we should not be floutedso. Therefore as the impudent fellow was in the very act of forcingthis concession from her, I threw caution to the winds, and sprangforth from my concealment in a violent rage. I aimed a mighty blow atMr. Fielding's head; but what with my impetuosity, combined with mydrunken condition, I miscalculated the distance sadly, and instead ofgetting home on that audacious person, missed him entirely, and fellfull length at Cynthia's feet.
Between her distressed exclamations and Mr. Fielding's immoderatelaughter I was got up again, to find myself a little sobered by thefall. With a joyful recognition of me, and a truly withering glance ofcontempt for Mr. Fielding, neither of which I can positively depict,Cynthia fell into my arms, and showered upon me those salutes Mr.Fielding had been so importunate to obtain. But I must confess that Ireceived them with a great deal more of shame than pleasure; for Mr.Fielding regarded us with such a degree of boisterousness, that thebitter fact suddenly came upon me that in my guilt I had committed herto the tender mercies of a person even more drunk than I was myself.