Fallen Fortunes

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  *CHAPTER X.*

  *"THE OLD LION."*

  Grey Dumaresq, having settled matters with his servant, and adjusted thedisarray of his own dress and person, turned towards a group of men whowere standing round Lord Sandford, making believe to laugh and jest, butshowing some vague symptoms of uneasiness as they cast sidelong glancesin the direction of their erstwhile comrade.

  Grey walked straight up to Lord Sandford, and looked him full in theeyes. Did the glance of the other quail ever so little before his? Hethought so, but could scarce be certain.

  "My lord," he said, "I have to thank you for many acts of kindness andcourtesy, and a certain liberality of treatment which I have received atyour hands and within your doors. In taking my farewell, I wish freelyto acknowledge all this debt. But other matters which I need notspecify, yet which are well understood by your lordship, have transpiredto change the relations betwixt us; and I wish to add that I desire tobe beholden to no man. In the rooms allotted to me in your lordship'shouse there is a quantity of wearing apparel, jewels, trinkets, forwhich I have no more use. I pray you have them sold, and the amountthus realized will reimburse you for all charges you have been at in mymaintenance during the time I have dwelt beneath your roof. That is allI have to say.--Gentlemen, I wish you a very good day."

  And lifting his hat with quiet dignity and grace, Grey made them ageneral salute and turned upon his heel.

  But Lord Sandford's voice came thundering after him. "Do you desire toinsult me, sir? Am I a beggarly inn-keeper, that I should sell aguest's belongings to pay my bill? What do you mean by such words? Doyou desire that I should demand satisfaction for them at your hands?"

  Grey did not know whether this man desired to fasten a quarrel upon himor not, and, truth to tell, he did not care. He just turned his headover his shoulder, and threw back an answer in tones of scarcely veiledcontempt.

  "That is for your lordship to decide. I shall have pleasure in givingany satisfaction demanded at any time, and in any place appointed. Forthe rest, a man who has sought to compass the death of a comrade by afoul trick need scarcely fear to soil his hands by the touch of hisgold. Again I wish you good-day, my lord."

  And without so much as turning his head again, Grey Dumaresq walked off,his head held high, neither observing nor returning the many salutes andbright arch glances shot at him from the lane of bystanders throughwhich he needs must pass, but walking like a man in a dream, and sodisappearing from view along the white road which led Londonwards.

  Round Lord Sandford men were buzzing like bees disturbed.

  "Insolent young jackanapes!" "What did he mean?" "What was his motivein such an insult?" "What will you do, my lord?" "Whither has he gone?Whither will he go?" "Is it true that he is ruined?" "He has lost hishorse, at least. None will give him a score of guineas for the beastnow." "How did it chance?" "Was it an accident?" "What meant he byhis words?" All were pouring out these and like questions; but therewas none to answer them, till Lord Sandford himself spoke.

  "The fellow's wits are gone astray," he cried in his loud, dominatingtones. "It is the Dumaresq blood. Sir Hugh was just such another--madas a March hare half his time, flinging his gold to the winds, andquarrelling with every man he met. Like father, like son. It has beencoming on for days. I misdoubted me if ever he would ride this race. Hecame and told me he must reform. That was ever his father's cry, and hewould disappear into the country for a while, and reappear again as gayas ever. 'Tis the same with the son. I saw it then, and I strove tocombat the madness; but 'tis ill dealing with the lunatic. You see whatwe get for our pains! Tush! let the fellow alone. I did wrong toanswer him. Let him go his own way, and we will think of him no more."

  And Lord Sandford, with a heavy cloud upon his brow, and a look aboutthe corners of his mouth which warned those about him to say no more,but leave matters as they were, flung away from them, and made his wayback alone to the inn, from which he was presently seen to issue forthin his gorgeous chariot, driving furiously along the road which led toSt. Albans.

  His boon companions, thus left to their own devices, went over to thespot where the strange thing had befallen at the race, and where thecountry folk had gathered with shakings of the head and questioningsbeneath their breath; and there, plain for all men to see, was theyawning hole with the open trap hanging down, and the marks of the heavyfall of the good horse, whose escape with whole bones was little shortof a miracle.

  An old countryman was holding forth to a knot of eager questioners, nowswelled by Lord Sandford's friends.

  "I mind well when there was a house here; 'twas pulled down when I werea young chap. And the well must ha' bin hereabouts. That old trap hasbeen in the ground ever since I can mind; but there be no water now, andthe sand has pretty nigh silted it up. I've a-looked in many a time,and the hole gets less and less deep. When I saw them setting up thebrushwood and things here, I made sure they had covered the trap well.I walked about it, but never saw sign of it. If I'd a thought ofdanger, I'd ha' told one of the fine folks. I suppose they never seedit. The grass and stuff do grow long and rank this time o' year. Andso the gentleman's horse trod on it, and it gave way with him. Mercyme, but 'tis a wonder he didn't break his neck then and there!"

  Lord Sandford's comrades looked each other in the eyes, and drew alittle away. All knew that something strange had passed upon him oflate, and that there was some rupture betwixt him and the man who hadbut lately accused him of seeking to compass his death.

  "Did he know?" "Was it plot or plan of his?" whispered one and another;but none could give the answer.

  * * * * *

  A wild, wet September day was drawing to its close, amid pelting squallsof cold rain, when a tall young man, gaunt and hollow-eyed, pushed hisway into a small coffee-house in an obscure thoroughfare somewhere inthe region of Drury Lane, and took a seat in a dark corner as near tothe stove as he could get, for he looked pinched with cold, and hisplain and rather threadbare black suit was pretty well wet through. Assoon as he was seated, he drew from his breast a roll of paper, which heregarded with solicitude. That at least was dry, and he heaved a sighthat sounded like one of satisfaction.

  In this narrow street the daylight had completely faded, though it wasnot yet six o'clock. The room was furthermore darkened by clouds oftobacco smoke which the guests were puffing forth. The smell of coffeemingled with the ranker fumes of the tobacco, and the clink of cup andspoon made ceaseless accompaniment to the talk, which went on in acontinuous stream.

  Grey (for it was he) leaned his head on his hand wearily, and fell intosomething like a doze as he sat in his shadowy corner. He was exhaustedin mind and in body. He was faint with hunger, and yet half afraid toorder food; for his funds were dwindling almost to the vanishing point,and as yet he had found no means of replenishing his exchequer. But hehad not been able to resist the temptation to escape from the buffetingsof the tempest, and when the boy in attendance upon the guests came toask his pleasure, he ordered some coffee and bread, and devoured it witha ravenous appetite when it was set before him.

  The pangs of hunger stayed, if not appeased, he began to look about him,and to wonder into what manner of company he had thrust himself. He hadnever before been inside this house, though he had, in the first days ofhis new career, taken his meals in some of the numerous coffee orchocolate houses, or the taverns which abounded throughout the town.Latterly he had generally bought his food at the cheapest market, andhad eaten it in the attic to which he had removed himself and his fewbelongings. He was beginning to wonder how long he should be able evento retain that humble abode as his own. Dame Fortune's smiles seemedquite to have deserted him, and abject poverty stared him grimly in theface.

  A smoking lamp had been brought in, and hung overhead, lighting up thefaces of the company with its yellow glare. There was something strangeand Rembrandt-like in the effect
of the picture upon which Grey's eyesrested. Leaning back dreamily with his head against the wall, he couldalmost fancy himself back in one of those foreign picture galleries, inwhich heretofore he had delighted, and where so many hours of his timehad been spent.

  But this was a living picture, shifting, changing, breaking up intogroups and re-forming again; and the hum of talk went on unceasingly, asone after another took up the word and launched forth his opinions,generally in florid and flowery language, and with much gesticulationand indignation.

  What first struck Grey as strange was the anger which seemed to possessall these men. That they were in no good case was well-nigh proved bythe shabbiness of their dress, and by the fact of their being gatheredin this very humble and cheap place of resort, which would not tempt anybut those in adverse circumstances. But over and above their poverty,they seemed to be railing at neglect or injustice of some sort, and everand anon would break out into virulent abuse of some person or persons,whose names were unknown to Grey, but who evidently were characters wellknown to the others of the company.

  "There is no such thing as justice left, or purity of taste, or any suchthing!" shouted a handsome, well-proportioned fellow, whose face hadattracted Grey's notice several times, and seemed dimly familiar to him."Look at the mouthing mountebanks that walk the boards now! They strutlike peacocks, they gibber like apes. They have neither voice, norfigure, nor talent, nor grace. But, forsooth, because some fine damehas smiled upon them, or they are backed by a nobleman's patronage, theycan crow it over the rest of us like a cock upon his dunghill, and we,who have the talent and the gifts, may rot like rats in our holes!"

  "Shame! shame! shame!" cried an admiring chorus.

  "Look at me!" thundered the young man, his eyes flashing. "Who daressay I cannot act? Have I not held spellbound, hanging on my lips, wholehouses of beauty and fashion? Have I lost my skill or cunning? Has myvoice or has my grace departed from me? Wherefore, then, do I sit hereidle and hungry, whilst men not fit to black my boots hold the boardsand fill their pouches with gold? Why such injustice, I say?"

  A chorus of indignation again arose; but out of the shadows came a deepvoice.

  "The answer is easy, friend Lionel; arrogance and drink have been thecause of your downfall. How could any manager continue to engage you?How many times has it happened that you have come to the theatre soddenwith drink? How many representations have you spoiled by your bestialfolly? They were patient with you. Oh yes, they were very patient; forthey knew your gifts and recognized them. But you met friendly rebukeor warning with haughtiness and scorn. You would listen to no counsel;you would heed no warnings. The end should have been plain to you fromthe beginning, an you would not mend your ways. I told you how it needsmust be; and now the time has come when you see it for yourself. Worsemen are put in the parts that you excelled in, because they can bedepended upon. No drunkard can ever become great. Put that in yourpipe and smoke it, Lionel Field."

  At the sound of this new voice, speaking out of the shadows of theingle-nook, a great hush had fallen upon the room. Grey leaned forwardto obtain a view of the speaker, and the firelight played upon thestriking features and iron-gray hair of a very remarkable-looking oldman of leonine aspect, whose voice was of that penetrating quality whichmakes itself heard without being raised; and it was plain that somethingin the personality of the man lifted him above his fellows, for alllistened in silence whilst he spoke, and even the arrogant young actorlooked for the moment abashed.

  "Who is it?" whispered Grey to the man next him; and the answer camereadily, though spoken in a cautious whisper.

  "His name is Jonathan Wylde. Once he, too, was a famous actor; but longillness crippled his limbs, and he has fallen into poverty. He isalways called the Old Lion, and methinks the name suits him well. He isa very lion for courage, else would he not dare to rebuke Master LionelField. For he is one who is ready with his fist, or with knife orbludgeon, and it is ill work meeting him when he is in his cups."

  Grey looked with interest and attention at the old man in the shadows;but he was leaning back again, and spoke no more. The talk surged roundhim again from the rest; they spoke of the plays that were being enactedat the various theatres, and of those who were playing the various_roles_. Some of them stood up and rolled forth bits of Congreve'switty and sparkling dramas, and disputed as to whether the "OldBachelor" or the "Way of the World" were his happiest effort; whilstsome declared that the "Double Dealer" was the best of all. They talkedexcitedly of the revival at Drury Lane of Farquhar's "Love and aBottle," which had scored such a success some fourteen or fifteen yearspreviously. And there were some who lauded and some who depreciatedColley Cibber and his "Careless Husband" and "Love's Last Shift," whichwere favourites throughout the town.

  It was a new world to Grey; but he listened with a certain fascination,for the drama had always attracted him, and he watched the gestures ofthe actors and listened to their mouthing periods with something betweenwonder and amusement. He could understand that these men had beenfailures. Only Lionel Field appeared to have any true histrionic gift,and the cause of his downfall was plain to be read after the speech ofthe "Old Lion." From time to time, as the light flickered upon thestriking face in the ingle, Grey caught a fine-lipped smile upon it, andonce or twice he thought the old actor's eyes met his in a gleam ofhumour. But of that he could not be sure--it might be but the trick ofthe firelight; and presently wearied nature asserted itself, and theyoung man passed from drowsiness to actual sleep, and knew nothing moretill a sharp grip upon his arm roused him to a sense of hissurroundings.

  It was the tapster who thus shook him; and when he opened his eyes, Greysaw--or thought, at least--that the room was empty. What the time washe had no idea; but it must be late, and he rose hastily to his feetwith a muttered apology at having overstayed the closing time.

  At that moment there emerged out of the shadows of the ingle-nook a bentfigure, dignified even in its infirmity, and the voice which Grey hadheard before spoke in quietly authoritative accents.

  "Bring hither coffee and a dish of eggs for two. The wind and rain yethowl around the house. This gentleman will sup with me ere we go home.Go and serve us quickly, for we have both a good stomach, and would eatere we depart hence."

  The tapster vanished quickly to do the bidding of the guests, and Greyturned a wondering glance upon the Old Lion, whose face, framed in itsshaggy gray hair, looked more leonine than ever, the bright eyes shiningout of deep caverns from under bushy brows, the rugged features full ofpower, not unmixed with a curious underlying ferocity. But the glancebent upon Grey was kindly enough.

  "Sit down, young man; I would know more of you. I have a gift forreading faces. I have marked yours ever since you entered this room.Tell me your name. Tell me of yourself, for you were not born to thestate to which you have now fallen."

  "My name is Grey," was the ready answer. Grey had dropped his title andpatronymic with his fallen fortunes, and used his mother's name alone."My father was a country gentleman. I was gently reared, and was at onetime a scholar at Oxford, where I dreamed many dreams. Afterwards Itravelled abroad, returning to find my father dead and my home in thehands of a kinsman to whom it was mortgaged by my father. The smallfortune I received I squandered foolishly in a few weeks of gay livingwith young bloods of the town. I wakened from my dream to find myselfwell-nigh penniless, disgusted alike with myself and those I had calledmy friends. I have ever been something ambitious. I misdoubt me I am afool; but I did think that I might win laurels upon the field ofliterature. I have never lost the trick of rhyming, and jotting downsuch things as pleased my fancy, whether in prose or in verse. Do Iweary you with my tale?"

  "No, sir--far from it. Let me hear you to the end. I did see you takeforth a roll of paper from your breast as you came in. That action,together with your face, told me much. You have the gift of a creativefancy. You have written a poem or a play."

  "Neither the one nor the
other, but a romance," answered Grey, thecolour flushing his face as it flushes that of a maiden when the love ofher heart is named by her. "I scarce know how to call it, but methinksit savours more of a romance than of aught besides. When I was rudelyawakened from my pleasure-loving life, saw the folly and futilitythereof, and desired to amend, I did take a quiet lodging high up in abuilding off Holborn, and there I did set myself to the task, and righthappy was I in it. I had a score of gold pieces still left me, and myneeds I did think modest; though, looking back, they seem many to menow. The weeks fled by, and my work reached its close. When my romancewas finished, my money was all but spent. For the past week or more Ihave been seeking a publisher for it. In my folly I did think that itwould bring me gold as fast as I wanted. My eyes have been rudelyopened these last days."

  The Old Lion nodded his head many times.

  "You made a mistake in seeking a publisher, young sir. You should firsthave sought a patron."

  Grey's face flushed slightly, and he hesitated before he spoke.

  "Others have said the same to me; but there are difficulties. I havenot learned to go cap in hand to cringe for patronage to the great onesof the earth." But, as Grey saw a slight smile flicker in the old man'seyes, he added rather hastily, "And then I desire not to be known andrecognized by those whom I did know ha my former life. There is scarcean antechamber in those fine houses where patrons dwell where I mightnot meet the curious and impertinent regard of those who would know meagain. That I will not brook." And now Grey's eyes flashed, thinking ofLord Sandford, and how he would chuckle to hear how low his rival hadfallen. "No; if I am to succeed at all, I must needs do so without apatron. If I fail, there is one resource left. Able-bodied paupers aresent to the wars. I can go thither and fight."

  Again a smile flickered over the Old Lion's face; but the tapster wasentering with the smoking viands, and the gleam in Grey's eyes bespokethe wolf within him.

  "Set to, my friend, and make a good meal. When we have cleared thetrenchers, you shall come with me to my lodging. I would hear the endof your tale; but that can wait till after supper."