And Heaven knows how delicious were those lessons under the shabby ragged tree that shaded one half of the yard! I spoke to the yawning grubby-fingered boys, who slouched and straddled round me; but I knew to whose ears I applied myself; nor had pupil ever a more diligent master, or master an apter pupil. Once a week I had my fee of kisses, but rarely, very rarely, was permitted to cross the fence; a reserve on my Dorinda’s part, that, while it augmented the esteem in which I held her, maintained my passion at a white heat. When, nevertheless, I remonstrated with her, and loverlike, complained of the rigour which in my heart I commended, she chid me for setting a low value on her; and when I persisted, “Go on,” she said, drawing away from me with a wonderful air of offence. “Tell me at once, and in so many words, that you think me a low thing! That you really take me for the kitchen drudge I appear!”
Her tone was full of meaning, with a hint of mystery, but as I had never thought her aught else — and yet an angel — I was dumb.
“You did think me that?” she cried, fixing me with her eyes, and speaking in a tone that demanded an answer.
I muttered that I had never heard, had never known, that — that — and so stammered into silence, not at all understanding her.
“Then I think that hitherto we have been under a mistake,” she answered, speaking very distantly, and in a voice that sent my heart into my boots. “You were fond — or said you were — of the cook-maid. She does not exist. No, sir, a little farther away, if you please,” my mistress continued, haughtily, her head in the air, “and know that I come of better stock than that. If you would have my story I will tell it you. I can remember — it is almost the first thing I can remember — a day when I played, as a little child, with a necklace of gold beads, in the court-yard of a house in a great city; and wandered out, the side gate being open, and the porter not in his seat, into the streets; where,” she continued dreamily, and gazing away from me, “there were great crowds, and men firing guns, and people running every way — —”
I uttered an exclamation of astonishment. She noticed it only by making a short pause, and then went on in the same thoughtful tone, “As far as I can remember, it was a place where there were booths and stalls crowded together, and among them, it seems to me, a man was being hunted, who ran first one way and then another, while soldiers shot at him. At last he came where I had dropped on the ground in terror, after running child-like where the danger was greatest. He glared at me an instant — he was running, stooping down below the level of the booths, and they had lost him for the time; then he snatched me up in his arms, and darted from his shelter, crying loudly as he held me up, ‘Save the child! Save the child!’ The crowd raised the same cry, and made a way for him to pass. And then — I do not remember anything, until I found myself shabbily dressed in a little inn, where, I suppose, the man, having made his escape, left me.”
CHAPTER IV
At that I remember that I cried out in overwhelming excitement and amazement; cried out that I knew the man and his story, and the place whence she had been taken; that I had heard the tale from my father years before. “It was Colonel Porter who picked you up — Colonel Porter, and he saved his life by it!” I cried, quite beside myself at the wonderful discovery I had made. “It was Colonel Porter, in the great riot at Norwich.”
“Ah?” she said, slowly; looking away from me, and speaking so coolly and strangely as both to surprise and damp me.
Yet I persisted. “Yes,” I said, “the story is well known; at least that part of it. But — —” and there and at that word I stopped, dumbfounded and gaping.
“But what?” she asked sharply, and looked at me again; the colour risen in her face.
“But — you are only eighteen,” I hazarded timidly, “and the Norwich riot was in the War time. I dare say, thirty years ago.”
She turned on me in a sort of passion.
“Well, sir, and what of that?” she cried. “Do you think me thirty?”
“No, indeed,” I answered. And at the most she was nineteen.
“Then don’t you believe me?”
I cried out too at that; but, boy-like, I was so proud of my knowledge and acuteness that I could not let the point lie. “All I mean,” I explained, “is that to have been alive then, and at Norwich, you must be thirty now. And — —”
“And was it I?” she answered, flying out at me in a fine fury. “Who said anything about Norwich? Or your dirty riots? Or your Porter, whose name I never heard before! Go away! I hate you! I hate you!” she continued, passionately, waving me off. “You make up things and then put them on me! I never said a word about Norwich.”
“I know you did not,” I protested.
“Then why did you say I did?” she wailed. “Why did you say I did? You are a wretch! I hate you!”
And with that, dissolving in tears and sobs she at one and the same time showed me another side of love, and reduced me to the utmost depths of despair; whence I was not permitted to emerge, nor reinstated in the least degree of favour until I had a hundred times abased myself before her, and was ready to curse the day when I first heard the name of Porter. Still peace was at last, and with infinite difficulty restored; and so complete was our redintegratio amoris that we presently ventured to recur to her tale and to the strange coincidence that had divided us; which did not seem so very remarkable, on second thought, seeing that she could not now remember that she had said a word about booths or stalls, but would have it I had inserted those particulars; the man in her case having taken refuge — she fancied, but could not at this distance of time remember very clearly — among the seats of a kind of bull-ring or circus erected in the marketplace. Which of course made a good deal of difference.
Notwithstanding this discrepancy, however, and though, taught by experience, I hastened to agree with her that the secret of her birth was not likely to be discovered in a moment, nor by so simple a process as the journey to Norwich, which I had been going to suggest, it was natural that we should often revert to the subject, and to her pretensions, and the hardship of her lot: and my curiosity and questions giving a fillip to her memory, scarcely a day passed but she recovered some new detail from the past; as at one time a service of gold-plate which she perfectly remembered she had seen on her father’s sideboard; and at another time an accident that had befell her in her childhood, through her father’s coach and six horses being overturned in a slough. Such particulars (and many others as pertinent and romantic, on which I will not linger) gave us a certainty of her past consequence and her future fortune were her parents once known; and while they served to augment the respect in which my love held her, gradually and almost imperceptibly led her to take a higher tone with me, and even on occasions to carry herself towards me with an air of mystery, as if there were still some things which she had not confided to me.
This attitude on her part — which in itself pained me extremely — and still more the fear naturally arising from it, that if she came by her own I should immediately lose her, forced me to make the acquaintance of yet another side of love; by throwing me, I mean, into such a fever of suspicion and jealousy as made me for a period the most unhappy of men. From this plight my mistress, exercising the privilege of her sex, made no haste to relieve me. On the contrary, by affecting an increased reserve and asserting that her movements were watched, she prolonged my doubts; nor when this treatment had wrought the desired end of reducing me to the lowest depths, and she at length consented to meet me, did she entirely relent or abandon her reserve; or if she did so, on rare occasions, it was only to set me some task as the price of her complaisance, or expose me to some trial by which she might prove my devotion.
In a word, while I became hopelessly enslaved, even to the flogging a boy at her word, or procuring a dress far above my station — merely that she might see me by stealth in it, and judge of my air! — which were two of her caprices, she appeared to be farther removed from me every day, and at each meeting granted me fewer privileges. W
hether this treatment had its origin in the natural instinct of a woman, or was deliberately chosen as better calculated to increase my subservience, it had the latter effect; and to such an extent that when, after a long absence, she condescended to meet me, and broached a plan that earlier would have raised my hair, I asked no better than to do her bidding, and, instead of pointing out the folly of her proposal, fell in with it with scarcely a murmur.
Her plan, when she communicated it to me, which she did with an air of mystery and the same assumption of a secret withheld that had tormented me before, amounted to nothing less than an evening sally into the town on the occasion of the approaching visit of the Duke of York, who was to lie one night at the Rose at Ware on his way to Newmarket. Mr. D —— had issued the strictest orders that all should keep the house during this visit; not so much out of a proper care for the boys’ morality (though the gay crowd that followed the Court served for a pretext) as because, in his character of fanatic and Exclusionist, he held His Highness’s religion and person in equal abhorrence. Such a restriction weighed little in the scale against love; but, infatuated as I was, I found something that sensibly shocked me in the proposal coming from Dorinda’s lips; nor could I fail to foresee many dangers to which a young girl must expose herself on such an expedition in the town, and at night. But as to a youth in love nothing that his mistress chooses to do seems long amiss, so this proposal scared me for a moment only; after which it cost my mistress no more than a little rallying on my crop-eared manners, and some scolding, to make me see it in its true aspect of an innocent frolic, fraught with as much pleasure to the cavalier as novelty to the escorted.
“You will don your new suit,” she said, merrily, “and I shall meet you in the garden at half past nine.”
“And if the boys may miss me?” I protested feebly.
“The boys have missed you before!” she answered, mocking my tone. “Were you not here last night? And for a whole hour, sir?”
I confessed with hot cheeks that I had been there; humbly and tamely awaiting her pleasure.
“And did they tell then?” she asked scornfully. “Or are they less afraid of the birch now? But of course — if you don’t care to come with me — or are afraid, sir —— ?”
“I am neither,” I said warmly. “Only I do not quite understand, sweet, what you wish.”
“They lie at the Rose,” she said. “And amongst them, I am told, are the prettiest men and the most lovely women in the world. And jewels, and laces, and such dresses! Oh, I am mad to see them! And music and gaming and dancing! And dishes and plates of gold! And a Popish priest, which is a thing I have never seen, though I have heard of it. And — —”
“And do you expect to see all these things through the windows?” I cried in my superior knowledge.
She did not answer at once, but with her hands on my shoulders, swayed to and fro sideways as if she already heard the music; while her gipsy face looked archly into mine, first on this side and then on that, and her hair swung to and fro on her shoulders in a beautiful abandonment which I found it impossible to resist. At last she stopped, and, “Yes,” she said demurely, “through the windows, Master Richard Longface! Do you meet me here at half past nine — in your new suit, sir — and you shall see them too — through the windows.”
STOLE DOWN THE STAIRS AND INTO THE GARDEN
After that, though I made a last effort to dissuade her, there was nothing more to be said. Obedient to her behest, I made my preparations, and at the appointed hour next evening rose softly from the miserable pallet on which I had just laid down; and dressing myself with shaking fingers and in the dark — that my bed-fellows might know as little as possible of my movements — stole down the stairs and into the garden.
Here I found myself first at the rendezvous. The night was dark, but an unusual light hung over the town, and the wind that stirred the poplars brought scraps and sounds of music to the ear. I had some time to wait, and time too to think what I was about to do; to weigh the chances of detection and dismissal, and even to taste the qualms that rawness and timidity mingled with my anticipations of pleasure. But, though I had my fears, no vision of the real future obtruded itself on my mind as I stood there listening: nor any forewarning of the plunge I was about to take. And before I had come to the end of my patience Dorinda stood beside me.
Dark as it was, I fancied that I discerned something strange in her appearance, and I would have investigated it; but she whispered that we were late, and evading as well my questions as the caress I offered, she bade me help her as quickly as I could over the fence. I did so; we crossed a neighbouring garden, and in a twinkling and with the least possible difficulty stood in the road. Here the strains of music came more plainly to the ear, and the glare of light hung lower and shone more brightly. This seemed enough for my mistress; she turned that way without hesitation, and set forward, the outskirts of the town being quickly passed. Between the late hour and the flux of people towards the centre of interest, the streets were vacant; and we met no one until we reached the main thoroughfare, and came upon the edge of the great crowd that moved to and fro before the Rose Inn. Here all the windows, in one of which a band of music was playing some new air, were brilliantly lighted; while below and round the door was such a throng of hurrying waiters and drawers, and such a carrying of meals and drinks, and a shouting of orders as almost turned the brain. A carriage and six that had just set down a grandee, come to pay his devoirs to the Prince, was moving off as we came up, the horses smoking, the footmen panting, and the postilions stooping in their saddles. A little to one side a cask was being staved for the troopers who had come with the Duke; and on all the noisy, moving scene and the flags that streamed from the roofs and windows, and the shifting crowd, poured the ruddy light of a great bon-feu that burned on the farther side of the way.
Nor, rare as were these things, were they the most pertinent or the strangest that the fire revealed to me. I had come for nothing else but to see, clam et furtim, as the classics say, what was to be seen; with no thought of passing beyond the uttermost ring of spectators. But as I hung back shamefacedly my companion seized my wrist and drew me on; and when I turned to her to remonstrate, as Heaven lives, I did not know her! I conceived for a moment that some madam of the court had seized me in a frolic; nor for a perceptible space could I imagine that the fine cloaked lady, whose eyes shone bright as stars through the holes in her mask, and whose raven hair, so cunningly dressed, failed to hide the brilliance of her neck, where the cloak fell loose, was my Dorinda, my mistress, the cook-maid whom I had kissed in the garden! Honestly, for an instant, I recoiled and hung back, afraid of her; nor was I quite assured of the truth, so unprepared was I for the change, until she whispered me sharply to come on.
“Whither?” I said, still hanging back in dismay. The bystanders were beginning to turn and stare, and in a moment would have jeered us.
“Within doors,” she urged.
“They will not admit us!”
“They will admit me,” she answered proudly, and made as if she would throw my hand from her.
Still I did not believe her, and it was that, and that only, that emboldened me; though, to be sure, I was in love and her slave. Reluctantly, and almost sulkily, I gave way, and sneaked behind her to the door. A man who stood on the steps seemed, at the first glance, minded to stop her; but, looking again, smiled and let us pass; and in a twinkling we stood in the hall among hurrying waiters, and shouting call-boys, and bloods in silk coats, whose scabbards rang as they came down the stairs, and a fair turmoil of pages, and footboys, and gentlemen, and gentlemen’s gentlemen.
MY COMPANION SEIZED MY WRIST
In such a company, elbowed this way and that by my betters, I knew neither how to carry myself, nor where to look; but Dorinda, with barely a pause, and as if she knew the house, thrust open the nearest door, and led the way into a great room that stood on the right of the hall.
Here, down the spacious floor, and lighted
by shaded candles, were ranged several tables, at which a number of persons had seats, while others again stood or moved about the room. The majority of those present were men. I noticed, however, three or four women masked after the fashion of my companion, but more gorgeously dressed, and in my simplicity did not doubt that these were duchesses, the more as they talked and laughed loudly; whereas the general company — save those who sat at one table where the game was at a standstill, and all were crying persistently for a Tallier — spoke low, the rattle of dice and chink of coin, and an occasional oath, taking the place of conversation. I saw piles of guineas and half-guineas on the tables, and gold lace on the men’s coats, and the women a dream of silks and furbelows, and gleaming shoulders and flashing eyes; and between awe of my company, and horror at finding myself in such a place, I took all for real that glittered. Where, therefore, a man of experience would have discerned a crowd of dubious rakes and rustic squires tempting fortune for the benefit of the Groom-Porter, whose privilege was ambulatory, I fancied I gazed on earls and barons; saw a garter on every leg, and, blind to the stained walls of the common inn-room, supplied every bully who cried the main or called the trumps with the pedigree of a Howard.
Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman Page 260