CHAPTER XXXVI
THE AGONY OF PARTING
About half an hour ago, when Jack Bathurst suddenly burst in upon LordStretton in the dingy little parlour upstairs, he gave the lad noinkling of what was happening down below. He had hastily discarded JockMiggs's smock and hat and extracted a solemn promise from Philip not tostir from the parlour, whatever might be the tumult downstairs.
Then he had left the boy chafing like a wild beast in its cage. Theheavy oak doors and thick walls of the old-fashioned inn deadened allthe sounds from below, and Bathurst had taken the precaution of lockingthe door behind him. But for this, no doubt Philip would have brokenhis word, sooner than allow his chivalrous friend once more to risk hislife for him.
As the noise below grew louder and louder, Stretton became more and moreconvinced that some such scene as had been enacted a day or two ago atthe forge was being repeated in the hall of the Packhorse. He triedwith all his might to force open the door which held him imprisoned, andthrew his full weight against it once or twice, in a vain endeavour tobreak the thick oaken panels.
But the old door, fashioned of stout, well-seasoned wood, resisted allhis efforts, whilst the noise he made thereby never reached the ears ofthe excited throng.
Like a fettered lion he paced up and down the narrow floor of the dingyinn parlour, chafing under restraint, humiliated at the thought of beingunable to join in the fight, that was being made for his safety.
His sister's cry came to him in this agonising moment like the mostjoyful, the most welcome call to arms.
"The door! ... quick!..." he shouted as loudly as he could, "it islocked!"
She found the bolt and tore open the door, and the next instant he wasrunning downstairs, closely followed by Patience.
The Sergeant and soldiers had been not a little puzzled at hearing herladyship suddenly calling in mad exultation on her brother, whom theybelieved they were even now holding prisoner.
The appearance of Philip at the foot of the stairs, and dressed in aserving-man's suit, further enhanced their bewilderment.
But already Patience stood proud, defiant, and almost feverish in herexcitement, confronting the astonished group of soldiers.
"This, Sergeant!" she said, taking hold of her brother's hand, "isPhilip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, my brother. Arrest _him_ if youwish, he surrenders to you willingly, but I call upon you to let yourprisoner go free."
The Sergeant was sorely perplexed. The affair was certainly getting toocomplicated for his stolid, unimaginative brain. He would have givenmuch to relinquish command of this puzzling business altogether.
"Then you, sir," he said, addressing Philip, "you are the Earl ofStretton?"
"I am Philip James Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, your prisoner, Sergeant,"replied the lad, proudly.
"But then, saving your ladyship's presence," said the soldier, inhopeless bewilderment, "who the devil is my prisoner?"
"Surely, Sergeant," quoth Sir Humphrey, with a malicious sneer, "you'veguessed that already?"
Jack Bathurst, exhausted and faint after his long fight and victory, hadlistened motionless and silent to what was going on around him. Withthe letters safely bestowed in the Sergeant's wallet and about to beplaced before His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland himself, he feltthat indeed his task was accomplished.
Fate had allowed him the infinite happiness of having served hisbeautiful white rose to some purpose. Philip now would be practicallysafe; what happened to himself after that he cared but little.
At sound of Sir Humphrey's malicious taunt, an amused smile played roundthe corners of his quivering mouth; but Patience, with a rapid movement,had interposed herself between Sir Humphrey and the Sergeant.
"Your silence, Sir Humphrey," she commanded excitedly, "an you've anychivalry left in you."
"Aye!" he replied in her ear, "my silence now ... at a price."
"Name it."
"Your hand."
So low and quick had been questions and answers that the bewilderedSergeant and his soldiers had not succeeded in catching the meaning ofthe words, but Sir Humphrey's final eager whisper, "Your hand!" reachedJack Bathurst's sensitive ear. The look too in the Squire ofHartington's face had already enabled him to guess the purport of thebrief colloquy.
"Nay, Sir Humphrey Challoner," he said loudly, "but 'tis not amarketable commodity you are offering to this lady for sale. I'll breakyour silence for you. What is the information that you would impart tothese gallant lobsters? ... That besides being my mother's son I am alsothe highwayman, Beau Brocade!"
"No! no! no!" protested Patience, excitedly.
"Odd's my life!" quoth the Sergeant, "but methought..."
"Aye, Beau Brocade," said Sir Humphrey, with a sneer, "robber, vagabondand thief, that's what this ... _gentleman_ means."
"Faith! is that what I meant?" retorted Jack Bathurst, lightly. "Ididn't know it for sure!"
But with a wild cry Patience had turned to the Sergeant.
"It's a lie, Sergeant!" she repeated, "a lie, I tell you. Thisgentleman is ... my friend ... my..."
"Well, whichever you are, sir," quoth the Sergeant, turning to BeauBrocade decisively, "rebel, lord or highwayman, you are my prisoner,and," he added roughly, for many bitter remembrances of the past twodays had surged up in his stolid mind, "and either way you hang for it."
"Aye! hang for it!" continued Sir Humphrey, savagely. "So, nowmethinks, my chivalrous young friend, that we can cry quits at last.And now, Sergeant," said his Honour, peremptorily, "that you've foundout the true character of your interesting prisoner, you can restore memy letters, which he caused you to filch from me."
But the Sergeant was not prepared to do that. He had been tricked andhoodwinked so often, that he would not yield one iota of the advantagewhich he had contrived to gain.
"Your pardon, sir," he said deferentially yet firmly, "I don't exactlyknow the rights o' that. I think I'd best show them to His RoyalHighness, and you, sir, will be good enough to explain yourself beforehis Honour, Squire West."
"You'll suffer for this insolence, Sergeant," retorted Sir Humphrey,purple with rage. "I command you to return me those letters, and I warnyou that if you dare lay hands on me or hinder me in any way, I'll haveyou degraded and publicly whipped along with that ape the beadle."
But the Sergeant merely shrugged his shoulders and ordered off three ofhis men to surround Sir Humphrey Challoner and to secure his hands if heattempted to resist. His Honour's wild threats of revenge did not inthe least frighten the soldier, now that he felt himself on safe groundat last.
The rapid approach of the army gave him a sense of security; he knewthat if he had erred through excess of zeal, a reprimand would be theonly punishment meted out to him, whilst he risked being degraded if heneglected his duty. Whether the Squire of Hartington had or had notbeen a party to the late rebellion, he neither knew nor cared, butcertainly he was not going to give up a packet of letters over whichthere had been so much heated discussion on both sides.
The fast-approaching tumult in the street confirmed him in his resolve.He turned a deaf ear to all Sir Humphrey's protestations, and onlylaughed at his threats.
Already the soldiers were chafing with eagerness to see the entry of HisRoyal Highness with his staff: the village folk one by one had gone outto see the more joyful proceedings, and left the Sergeant and hisprisoners to continue their animated discussion.
"Are you ready, my lord?" asked the Sergeant, turning to Philip.
"Quite ready!" replied the lad, cheerfully, as he prepared to follow thesoldiers. He gave his sister a look of joy and hope, for he was goingto temporary imprisonment only; within a few moments perhaps his safetywould be assured. Lady Patience Gascoyne, in virtue of her rank andposition, could easily obtain an audience of the Duke of Cumberland, andin the meanwhile the letters proving Philip's innocence would have beenlaid before His Royal Highness. No wonder that as the lad, march
inglight-heartedly between two soldiers, passed close to Jack Bathurst, heheld out his hand to his brave rescuer in gratitude too deep for words.
"Are you ready, sir?" quoth the Sergeant now, as he turned to BeauBrocade.
But here there was no question of either joy or hope: no defence, noproofs of innocence. The daring outlaw had chosen his path in life, andbeing conquered at the last, had to pay the extreme penalty which hiscountry demanded of him for having defied its laws.
As he too prepared to follow the soldiers out into the open, Patience,heedless of the men around her, clung passionately, despairingly to theman who had sacrificed his brave life in her service, and whom she hadrewarded with the intensity, the magnitude of her love.
"They shall not take you," she sobbed, throwing her protecting armsround the dearly-loved form, "they shall not ... they shall not..."
The cry had been so bitter, so terribly pathetic in its despair, thatinstinctively the soldiers stood aside, awed in spite of their stolidhearts at the majesty of this great sorrow; they turned respectfullyaway, leaving a clear space round Patience and Bathurst.
Thus for a moment he had her all to himself, passive in her despair,half crazed with her grief, clinging to him with all the passionateabandonment of her great love for him.
"What? ... tears?" he whispered gently, as with a tender hand he pressedback the graceful drooping head, and looked into her eyes, "one ... two... three ... four glittering diamonds ... and for me! ... My sweetdream!" he added, the intensity of his passion causing his low, tendervoice to quiver in his throat, "my beautiful white rose, but yesterdayfor one of those glittering tears I'd gladly have endured hell's worsttortures, and to-day they flow freely for me.... Why! I would notchange places with a King!"
"Your life ... your brave, noble life ... thus sacrificed for me....Oh, why did I ever cross your path?"
"Nay, my _dear_," he said with an infinity of tenderness, and aninfinity of joy. "Faith! it must have been because God's angels tookpity on a poor vagabond and let him get this early glimpse of paradise."
His fingers wandered lovingly over her soft golden hair, he held herclose, very close to his heart, drinking in every line of her exquisiteloveliness, rendered almost ethereal through the magnitude of hersorrow: her eyes shining with passion through her tears, the delicatecurve of throat and chin, the sensitive, quivering nostrils, the moistlips on which anon he would dare to imprint a kiss.
"And life now to me," she whispered 'twixt heart-broken sobs, "what willit be? ... how shall I live but in one long memory?"
"My life, my saint," he murmured. "Nay! lift your dear face up to meagain! let me take away as a last memory the radiant vision of your eyes... your hair ... your lips..."
His arms tightened round her, her head fell back as if in a swoon, sheclosed her eyes and her soul went out to him in the ecstasy of thatfirst kiss.
"Ah! it is a lovely dream I dreamt," he whispered, "and 'tis meet thatthe awakening shall be only in death!"
He tried to let her go but she clung to him passionately, her arms roundhim, in the agony of her despair.
"Take me with you," she sobbed, half fainting. "I cannot bear it ... Icannot..."
Gently he took hold of both her hands, and again and again pressed themto his lips.
"Farewell, sweet dream!" he said. "There! dry those lovely tears! ...If you only knew how happy I am, you would not mourn for me.... I havespun the one thread in life which was worth the spinning, the threadwhich binds me to your memory.... Farewell!"
The Sergeant stepped forward again. It was time to go.
"Are you ready, sir?" he asked kindly.
"Quite ready, Sergeant."
She slid out of his arms, her eyes quite dry now, her hands pressed toher mouth to smother her screams of misery. She watched the soldiersfall into line, with their prisoner in their midst, and turn to thedoorway of the inn, through which the golden sunshine came gaily peepingin.
Outside a roll of drums was heard and shouts of "The Duke! The Duke!"The excitement had become electrical. His Royal Highness, mounted on amagnificent white charger, was making his entry into the village at thehead of his general staff, and followed at some distance by the bulk ofhis army corps, who would camp on the Heath for the night.
Squire West, his stiff old spine doubled in two, was in attendance onthe green, holding a parchment in his hand, which contained his loyaladdress and that of the inhabitants of Brassington: the beadle, morepompous than ever, and resplendent in blue cloth and gold lace, stoodimmediately behind his Honour.
In the midst of all this gaiety and joyful excitement the silent group,composed of the soldiers with their three prisoners, appeared in strangeand melancholy contrast. Philip and Bathurst were to be confined in theCourt House, under a strong guard, pending his Honour the Squire'sdecision, and as the little squad emerged upon the green, 'twas smallwonder that they caught His Royal Highness's eye.
He had been somewhat bored by Squire West's long-winded harangue, andwas quite glad of an excuse for cutting it short.
"Odd's buds!" he said, "and what have we here? Eh?"
The Sergeant and soldiers stood still at attention, some twenty yardsaway from the brilliant group of His Highness's general staff. Thelittle diversion had caused Squire West to lose the thread of hisspeech, and much relieved, the Duke beckoned the Sergeant to drawnearer.
"Who are your prisoners, Sergeant?" queried His Highness, looking withsome interest at the two young men, one of whom was a mere lad, whilstthe other had a strange look of joy and pride in his pale face, an airof aloofness and detachment from all his surroundings, which puzzled andinterested the Duke not a little.
"'Tis a bit difficult to explain, your Royal Highness," replied theSergeant, making the stiff military salute.
"Difficult to explain who your prisoners are?" laughed the Duke,incredulously.
"Saving your Highness's presence," responded the Sergeant, "one of thesegentlemen is Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton."
"Oho! the young reprobate rebel who was hand-in-glove with thePretender! I mind his case well, Sergeant, and the capture does yourzeal great credit. Which of your prisoners is the Earl of Stretton?"
"That's just my trouble, your Royal Highness. But I hope that thesepapers will explain."
And the Sergeant drew from his wallet the precious packet of letters andhanded them respectfully to the Duke.
"What are these letters?"
"They were found on the person of that gentleman, sir," replied theSergeant, indicating Sir Humphrey Challoner, who stood behind the twoyounger men, silent and sulky, and nursing desperate thoughts ofrevenge. "He is said to be an accomplice and I thought 'twas my duty tobring him before a magistrate. If I've done wrong...".
"You've done quite right, Sergeant," said the Duke, firmly. "You weresent here to rid the country of rebels, whom an Act of Parliament hasconvicted of high treason, and it had been gross neglect of duty not torefer such a case to the nearest magistrate. Give me the papers, I'lllook through them anon. See your prisoners safely under guard, thencome back to my quarters."
"Damnation!" muttered Sir Humphrey, as he saw the Duke take the packetof letters from the Sergeant's hand, and then turn away to listen to thefag end of Squire West's loyal address.
Throughout his chagrin, however, the Squire of Hartington was able togloat over one comforting idea. He had now lost all chance of pressinghis suit on Lady Patience, his actions in the past three days wouldinevitably cause her to look upon him with utter hatred and contempt,but the man who was the cause of his failure, the chivalrous andmeddlesome highwayman, Beau Brocade, would, as sure as the sun would setthis night, dangle on the nearest gibbet to-morrow.
Beau Brocade: A Romance Page 35