CHAPTER XVI.
WHICH WAS THE FIERCER FIRE?
It was Saturday, the first of September, and the hot dry weather havingcontinued with but trifling changes throughout the month, the atmospherewas at its sultriest, and the burnt grass in the parks looked as if eventhe dews of morning and evening had ceased to moisten it, while the aridand dusty foliage gave no feeling of coolness, and the very shadows castupon that parched ground seemed hot. Morning was sultry as noon; eveningbrought but little refreshment; while the night was hotter than the day.People complained that the season was even more sickly than in the plagueyear, and prophesied a new and worse outbreak of the pestilence. Was notthis the fatal year about which there had been darkest prophecies? 1666!Something awful, something tragical was to make this triplicate of sixesfor ever memorable. Sixty-five had been terrible, sixty-six was to bringa greater horror; doubtless a recrudescence of that dire malady which haddesolated London.
"And this time," says one modish raven, "'twill be the quality that willsuffer. The lower 'classis' has paid its penalty, and only the strong andhardy are left. We have plenty of weaklings and corrupt constitutions thatwill take fire at a spark. I should not wonder were the contagion to rageworst at Whitehall. The buildings lie low, and there is ever a nucleusof fever somewhere in that conglomeration of slaughter-houses, bakeries,kitchens, stables, cider-houses, coal-yards, and over-crowded servants'lodgings."
"One gets but casual whiffs from their private butcheries and bakeries,"says another. "What I complain of is the atmosphere of his Majesty'sapartments, where one can scarce breathe for the stench of those cursedspaniels he so delights in."
Every one agreed that the long dry summer menaced some catastrophic changewhich should surprise this easy-going age as the plague had done last year.But oh, how lightly that widespread calamity had touched those light minds!and, if Providence had designed to warn or to punish, how vain had beenthe warning, and how soon forgotten the penalty that had left the worstoffenders unstricken!
There was to be a play at Whitehall that evening, his Majesty and the Courthaving returned from Tunbridge Wells, the business of the navy callingCharles to council with his faithful General--_the_ General _parexcellence_, George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, and his Lord High Admiral andbrother--_par excellence_ the Duke. Even in briefest residence, and onsternest business intent, with the welfare and honour of the nationcontingent on their consultations, to build or not to build warships of thefirst magnitude, the ball of pleasure must be kept rolling. So Killigrewwas to produce a new version of an old comedy, written in the forties,but now polished up to the modern style of wit. This new-old play, _TheParson's Widow_, was said to be all froth and sparkle and current interest,fresh as the last _London Gazette_, and spiced with allusions to thelate sickness, an admirable subject, and allowing a wide field for theridiculous.
Hyacinth was to be present at this Court function; but not a word was to besaid to Angela about the entertainment.
"She would only preach me a sermon upon Fareham's tastes and wishes, andurge me to stay away because he abhors a fashionable comedy," she told DeMalfort, "I shall say I am going to Lady Sarah's to play basset. Ange hatescards, and will not desire to go with me. She is always happy with thechildren, who adore her."
"Faute de mieux."
"You are so ready to jeer! Yes, I know I am a neglectful mother. But whatwould you have?"
"I would have you as you are," he answered, "and only as you are; or forchoice a trifle worse than you are; and so much nearer my own level."
"Oh, I know you! It is the wicked women you admire--like Madame Palmer."
"Always harping upon Barbara. 'My mother had a maid called Barbara.' HisMajesty has--a lady of the same melodious name. Well, I have a world ofengagements between now and nine o'clock, when the play begins. I shall beat the door to lift you out of your chair. Cover yourself with your richestjewels--or at least those you love best--so that you may blaze like the sunwhen you cast off the nun's habit. All the town will be there to admireyou."
"All the town! Why, there is no one in London!"
"Indeed, you mistake. Travelling is so easy nowadays. People tear to andfro between Tunbridge and St James's as often as they once circulatedbetwixt London and Chelsea. Were it not for the highwaymen we should bealways on the road."
Angela and her niece were on the terrace in the evening coolness. Theatmosphere was less oppressive here by the flowing tide than anywhereelse in London; but even here there was a heaviness in the night air, andHenriette sprawled her long thin legs wearily on the cushioned bench whereshe lay, and vowed that it would be sheer folly for Priscilla to insistupon her going to bed at her usual hour of nine, when everybody knew shecould not sleep.
"I scarce closed my eyes last night," she protested, "and I had half amind to put on a petticoat and come down to the terrace. I could have comethrough the yellow drawing-room, where the men usually forget to close theshutters. And I should have brought my theorbo and serenaded you. Shouldyou have taken me for a fairy, chere, if you had heard me singing?"
"I should have taken you for a very silly little person who wanted tofrighten her friends by catching an inflammation of the lungs."
"Well, you see, I thought better of it, though it would have beenimpossible to catch cold on such a stifling night I heard every clockstrike in Westminster and London. It was light at five, yet the nightseemed endless. I would have welcomed even a mouse behind the wainscot.Priscilla is an odious tyrant," making a face at the easy-temperedgouvernante sitting by; "she won't let me have my dogs in my room atnight."
"Your ladyship knows that dogs in a bed-chamber are unwholesome," saidPriscilla.
"No, you foolish old thing; my ladyship knows the contrary; for hisMajesty's bed-chamber swarms with them, and he has them on his bedeven--whole families--mothers and their puppies. Why can't I have a fewdear little mischievous innocents to amuse me in the long dreary nights?"
By dint of clamour and expostulation the honourable Henriette contrivedto stay up till ten o'clock was belled with solemn tone from St. Paul'sCathedral, which magnificent church was speedily to be put in hand forrestoration, at a great expenditure. The wooden scaffolding which had beennecessary for a careful examination of the building was still up. Untilthe striking of the great city clock, Papillon had resolutely disputed thelateness of the hour, putting forward her own timekeeper as infallible--alittle fat round purple enamel watch with diamond figures, and gold handsmuch bent from being pushed backwards and forwards, to bring recorded timeinto unison with the young lady's desires--a watch to which no sensibleperson could give the slightest credit. The clocks of London havingdemonstrated the futility of any reference to that ill-used Geneva toy, sheconsented to retire, but was reluctant to the last.
"I am going to bed," she told her aunt, "because this absurd old Prissyinsists upon it, but I don't expect a quarter of an hour's sleep betweennow and morning; and most of the time I shall be looking out of the window,watching for the turn of the tide, to see the barges and boats swinginground."
"You will do nothing of the kind, Mrs. Henriette; for I shall sit in yourroom till you are sound asleep," said Priscilla.
"Then you will have to sit there all night; and I shall have somebody totalk to."
"I shall not allow you to talk."
"Will you gag me, or put a pillow over my face, like the Blackamoor in theplay?"
The minx and her governess retired, still disputing, after Angela had beendesperately hugged by Henriette, who brimmed over with warmest affection inthe midst of her insolence. They were gone, their voices sounding in thestillness on the terrace, and then on the staircase, and through the greatempty rooms, where the windows were open to the sultry night, while thehost of idle servants caroused in the basement, in a spacious room with avaulted roof, like a college hall, where they were free to be as noisy oras drunken as they pleased. My lady was out, had taken only her chair, andrunning footmen, and had sent chairmen and footmen back from Whiteha
ll,with an intimation that they would be wanted no more that night.
Angela lingered on the terrace in the sultry summer gloom, watchingsolitary boats moving to and fro, shadowy as Charon's. She dreaded thestillness of silent rooms, and to be alone with her own thoughts, whichwere not of the happiest. Her sister's relations with De Malfort troubledher, innocent as they doubtless were: innocent as that close friendship ofHenrietta of England with her cousin of France, when they two spent thefair midsummer nights roaming in palace gardens, close as lovers, butonly fast friends. Malicious tongues had babbled even of that innocentfriendship; and there were those who said that if Monsieur behaved likeda brute to his lovely young wife, it was because he had good reason forjealousy of Louis in the past, as well as of De Guiche in the present.These innocent friendships are ever the cause of uneasiness to thelookers-on. It is like seeing children at play on the edge of a cliff. Theyare too near danger and destruction.
Hyacinth, being about as able to carry a secret as to carry an elephant,had betrayed by a hundred indications that a plot of some kind was beinghatched between her and De Malfort. And to-night, before going out, shehad made too much fuss about so simple a matter as a basset-party at LadySarah's, who had her basset-table every night, and was popularly supposedto keep house upon her winnings, and to have no higher code of honour thanDe Gramont had when he invited a brother officer to supper on purpose torook him.
Mr. Killigrew's comedy had been discussed in Angela's hearing. People whohad been deprived of the theatre for over a year were greedy and eagerspectators of all the plays produced at Court; but this production was anexceptional event. Killigrew's wit and impudence and impecuniosity were thetalk of the town, and anything written by that audacious jester was sure tobe worth hearing.
Had her sister gone to Whitehall to see the new comedy, in directdisobedience to her husband, instead of to so accustomed an entertainmentas Lady Sarah's basset-table? And was that the only mystery betweenHyacinth and De Malfort? Or was there something else--some ghost-party,such as they had planned and talked about openly till a fortnight ago,and had suddenly dropped altogether, as if the notion were abandoned andforgotten? It was so unlike Hyacinth to be secret about anything; andher sister feared, therefore, that there was some plot of De Malfort'scontriving--De Malfort, whom she regarded with distrust and evenrepugnance; for she could recall no sentiment of his that did not makefor evil. Beneath that gossamer veil of airy language which he flung overvicious theories, the conscienceless, unrelenting character of the man hadbeen discovered by those clear eyes of the meditative onlooker. Alas!what a man to be her sister's closest friend, claiming privileges by longassociation, which Hyacinth would have been the last to grant her dissoluteadmirers of yesterday, but which were only the more perilous for thosememories of childhood that justified a so dangerous friendship.
She was startled from these painful reflections by the clatter of horses'hoofs on the paved courtyard east of the house, and the jingle ofsword-belt and bit, sounds instantly followed by the ringing of the bell atthe principal door.
Was it her sister coming home so early? No, Lady Fareham had gone out inher chair. Was it his lordship returning unannounced? He had stated no timefor his return, telling his wife only that, on his business in Paris beingfinished, he would come back without delay. Indeed, Hyacinth had debatedthe chances of his arrival this very evening with half a dozen of herparticular friends, who knew that she was going to see Mr. Killigrew'splay.
"Fate cannot be so perverse as to bring him back on the only night when hisreturn would be troublesome," she said.
"Fate is always perverse, and a husband is very lucky if there is but oneday out of seven on which his return would be troublesome," answered one ofher gossips.
Fate had been perverse, for Angela heard her brother-in-law's deep strongvoice talking in the hall, and presently he came down the marble steps tothe terrace, and came towards her, white with Kentish dust, and carrying anopen letter in his hand. She had risen at the sound of the bell, and washurrying to the house as he met her. He came close up to her, scarcelyaccording her the civility of greeting. Never had she seen his countenancemore gloomy.
"You can tell me truer than those drunken devils below stairs," he said."Where is your sister?"
"At Lady Sarah Tewkesbury's."
"So her major-domo swears; but her chairmen, whom I found asleep in thehall, say they set her down at the palace."
"At Whitehall?"
"Yes, at Whitehall. There is a modish performance there to-night, I hear;but I doubt it is over, for the Strand was crowded with hackney coachesmoving eastward. I passed a pair of handsome eyes in a gilded chair, thatflashed fury at me as I rode by, which I'll swear were Mrs. Palmer's; and,waiting for me in the hall, I found this letter, that had just been handedin by a link, who doubtless belonged to the same lady. Read, Angela; thecontents are scarce long enough to weary you." She took the letter from himwith a hand that trembled so that she could hardly hold the sheet of paper.
"Watch! There is an intrigue afoot this night; and you must be a greaterdullard than I think you if you cannot unmask a deceitful----"
The final word was one which modern manners forbid in speech or printedpage. Angela's pallid cheek flushed crimson at the sight of the vileepithet. Oh, insane lightness of conduct which made such an insultpossible! Standing there, confronting the angry husband, with thatdetestable paper in her hand, she felt a pang of compunction at the thoughtthat she might have been more strenuous in her arguments with her sister,more earnest and constant in reproof. When the peace and good repute of twolives were at stake, was it for her to consider any question of older oryounger, or to be restrained by the fear of offending a sister who had beenso generous and indulgent to her?
Fareham saw her distress, and looked at her with angry suspicion.
"Come," he said, "I scarce expected a lying answer from you; and yet youjoin with servants to deceive me. You know your sister is not at LadySarah's."
"I know nothing, except that, wherever she is, I will vouch that sheis innocently employed, and has done nothing to deserve that infamousaspersion," giving him back the letter.
"Innocently employed! You carry matters with a high hand. Innocentlyemployed, in a company of she-profligates, listening to Killigrew's ribaldjokes--Killigrew, the profanest of them all, who can turn the greatestcalamity this city ever suffered to horseplay and jeering. Innocentlyemployed, in direct disobedience to her husband! So innocently employedthat she makes her servants--and her sister--tell lies to cover herinnocence!"
"Hector as much as you please, I have told your lordship no lies; and, withyour permission, I will leave you to recover your temper before my sister'sreturn, which I doubt will happen within the next hour."
She moved quickly past him towards the house.
"Angela, forgive me----" he began, trying to detain her; but she hurriedon through the open French window, and ran upstairs to her room, where shelocked herself in.
For some minutes she walked up and down, profoundly agitated, thinking outthe position of affairs. To Fareham she had carried matters with a highhand, but she was full of fear. The play was over, and her sister, whodoubtless had been among the audience, had not come home. Was she stayingat the palace, gossiping with the maids-of-honour, shining among thatbrilliant, unscrupulous crowd, where intrigue was in the very air, where nowoman was credited with virtue, and every man was remorseless?
The anonymous letter scarcely influenced Angela's thoughts in theseagitated moments--that was but a foul assault on character by a foul-mindedwoman. But the furtive confabulations of the past week must have had somemotive; and her sister's fluttered manner before leaving the house hadmarked this night as the crisis of the plot.
Angela could imagine nothing but that ghostly masquerading which had, inthe first place, been discussed freely in her presence; and she could butwonder that De Malfort and her sister should have made a mystery about aplan which she had known in its inception. The more dee
ply she consideredall the circumstances, the more she inclined to suspect some evil intentionon De Malfort's part, of which Hyacinth, so frank, so shallow, might be tooeasy a dupe.
"I do little good doubting and suspecting and wondering here," she said toherself; and after hastily lighting the candles on her toilet-table, shebegan to unlace the bodice of her light-coloured silk mantua, and in a fewminutes had changed her elegant evening attire for a dark cloth gown, shortin the skirt, and loose in the sleeves, which had been made for her to wearupon the river. In this costume she could handle a pair of sculls as freelyas a waterman.
When she had put on a little black silk hood, she extinguished her candles,pulled aside the curtain which obscured the open window, and looked out onthe terrace. There was just light enough to show her that the coast wasclear. The iron gate at the top of the water-stairs was seldom locked, norwere the boat-houses often shut, as boats were being taken in and out atall hours, and, for the rest, neglect and carelessness might always bereckoned upon in the Fareham household.
She ran lightly down a side staircase, and so by an obscure door to theriver-front. No, the gate was not locked, and there was not a creaturewithin sight to observe or impede her movements. She went down the steps tothe paved quay below the garden terrace. The house where the wherries werekept was wide open, and, better still, there was a skiff moored by the sideof the steps, as if waiting for her; and she had but to take a pair ofsculls from the rack and step into the boat, unmoor and away westward, withswiftly dipping oars, in the soft summer silence, broken now and then bysounds of singing--a tipsy, unmelodious strain, perhaps, were it heard toonear, but musical in the distance--as the rise and fall of voices creptalong a reach of running water.
The night was hot and oppressive, even on the river. But it was better herethan anywhere else; and Angela breathed more freely as she bent over hersculls, rowing with all her might, intent upon reaching that landing-stageshe knew of in the very shortest possible time. The boat was heavy, but shehad the incoming tide to help her.
Was Fareham hunting for his wife, she wondered? Would he go to LadySarah's lodgings, in the first place; and, not finding Hyacinth there, toWhitehall? And then, would he remember the assembly at Millbank, in whichhe had taken no part, and apparently no interest? And would he extend hissearch to the ruined abbey? At the worst, Angela would be there before him,to prepare her sister for the angry suspicions which she would have tomeet. He was not likely to think of that place till he had exhausted allother chances.
It was not much more than a mile from Fareham House to that desolate bitof country betwixt Westminster and Chelsea, where the modern dairy-farmoccupied the old monkish pastures. As Angela ran her boat inshore, sheexpected to see Venetian lanterns, and to hear music and voices, andall the indications of a gay assembly; but there were only silence anddarkness, save for one lighted window in the dairyman's dwelling-house, andshe thought that she had come upon a futile errand, and had been mistakenin her conjectures.
She moored her boat to the wooden landing-stage, and went on shore toexamine the premises. The revelry might be designed for a later hour,though it was now near midnight, and Lady Sarah's party had assembled ateleven. She walked across a meadow, where the dewy grass was cool under herfeet, and so to the open space in front of the dairyman's house--a shabbybuilding attached like a wen to the ruined refectory.
She started at hearing the snort of a horse, and the jingling of bit andcurb-chain, and came suddenly upon a coach-and-four, with a couple ofpost-boys standing beside their team.
"Whose coach is this?" she asked.
"Mr. Malfy's, your ladyship."
"The French gentleman from St. James's Street, my lady," explained theother man.
"Did you bring Monsieur de Malfort here?"
"No, madam. We was told to be here at eleven, with horses as fresh as fire;and the poor tits be mighty impatient to be moving. Steady, Champion!You'll have work enough this side Dartford,"--to the near leader, who wasshaking his head vehemently, and pawing the gravel.
Angela waited to ask no further questions, but made straight for theunglazed window, through which Mr. Spavinger and his companions hadentered.
There was no light in the great vaulted room, save the faint light ofsummer stars, and two figures were there in the dimness--a woman standingstraight and tall in a satin gown, whose pale sheen reflected thestarlight; a woman whose right arm was flung above her head, bare andwhite, her hand clasping her brow distractedly; and a man, who knelt ather feet, grasping the hand that hung at her side, looking up at her, andtalking eagerly, with passionate gestures.
Her voice was clearer than his; and Angela heard her repeating with apiteous shrillness, "No, no, no! No, Henri, no!"
She stayed to hear no more, but sprang through the opening between thebroken mullions, and rushed to her sister's side; and as De Malfort startedto his feet, she thrust him vehemently aside, and clasped Hyacinth in herarms.
"You here, Mistress Kill-joy?" he muttered, in a surly tone. "May I askwhat business brought you? For I'll swear you wasn't invited."
"I have come to save my sister from a villain, sir. But oh, my sweet, Ilittle dreamt thou hadst such need of me!"
"Nay, love, thou didst ever make tragedies out of nothing," said Hyacinth,struggling to disguise hysterical tears with airy laughter. "But I am rightglad all the same that you are come; for this gentleman has put a scurvytrick upon me, and brought me here on pretence of a gay assembly that hasno existence."
"He is a villain and a traitor," said Angela, in deep, indignant tones."Dear love, thou hast been in danger I dare scarce think of. Fareham issearching for you."
"Fareham! In London?"
"Returned an hour ago. Hark!"
She lifted her finger warningly as a bell rang, and the well-known voicesounded outside the house, calling to some one to open the door.
"He is here!" cried Hyacinth, distractedly. "For God's sake, hide me fromhim! Not for worlds--not for worlds would I meet him!"
"Nay, you have nothing to fear. It is Monsieur de Malfort who has to answerfor what he has done."
"Henri, he will kill you! Alas, you know not what he is in anger! I haveseen him, once in Paris, when he thought a man was insolent to me. God! Thethunder of his voice, the blackness of his brow! He will kill you! Oh, ifyou love me--if you ever loved me--come out of his way! He is fatal withhis sword!"
"And am I such a tyro at fence, or such a poltroon as to be afraid to meethim? No, Hyacinth, I go with you to Dover, or I stand my ground and facehim."
"You shall not!" sobbed Hyacinth. "I will not have your blood on my head!Come, come--by the garden--by the river!"
She dragged him towards the window; he pretending to resist, as Angelathought, yet letting himself be led as she pleased to lead him. They hadbut just crossed the yawning gap between the mullions and vanished intothe night, when Fareham burst into the room with his sword drawn, andcame towards Angela, who stood in shadow, her face half hidden in herclose-fitting hood.
"So, madam, I have found you at last," he said; "and in time to stop yourjourney, though not to save myself the dishonour of a wanton wife! But itis your paramour I am looking for, not you. Where is that craven hiding?"
He went back to the inhabited part of the house, and returned after ahasty examination of the premises, carrying the lamp which had lighted hissearch, only to find the same solitary figure in the vast bare room. Angelahad moved nearer the window, and had sunk exhausted upon a large carved oakchair, which might be a relic of the monkish occupation. Fareham came toher with the lamp in his hand.
"He has given me a clean pair of heels," he said; "but I know where to findhim. It is but a pleasure postponed. And now, woman, you had best return tothe house your folly, or your sin, has disgraced. For to-night, at least,it must needs shelter you. Come!"
The hooded figure rose at his bidding, and he saw the face in thelamplight.
"You!" he gasped. "You!"
"Yes, Fareham, it is I. Ca
nnot you take a kind view of a foolish business,and believe there has been only folly and no dishonour in the purpose thatbrought me here?"
"You!" he repeated. "You!"
His bearing was that of a man who staggers under a crushing blow, a strokeso unexpected that he can but wonder and suffer. He set down the lamp witha shaking hand, then took two or three hurried turns up and down the room;then stopped abruptly by the lamp, snatched the anonymous letter from hisbreast, and read the lines over again.
"'An intrigue on foot----' No name. And I took it for granted my wife wasmeant. I looked for folly from her; but wisdom, honour, purity, all thevirtues from you. Oh, what was the use of my fortitude, what the motiveof self-conquest here," striking himself upon the breast, "if you wereunchaste? Angela, you have broken my heart."
There was a long pause before she answered, and her face was turned fromhim to hide her streaming tears. At last she was able to reply calmly--
"Indeed, Fareham, you do wrong to take this matter so passionately. You maytrust my sister and me. On my honour, you have no cause to be angry witheither of us."
"And when I gave you this letter to read," he went on, disregarding herprotestations, "you knew that you were coming here to meet a lover. Youhurried away from me, dissembler as you were, to steal to this lonely placeat midnight, to fling yourself into his arms. Tell me where he is hiding,that I may kill him; now, while I pant for vengeance. Such rage as minecannot wait for idle forms. Now, now, now, is the time to reckon with yourseducer!"
"Fareham, you cover me with insults!"
He had rushed to the door, still carrying his naked sword; but he turnedback as she spoke, and stood looking at her from head to foot with a savagescornfulness.
"Insult!" he cried. "You have sunk too low for insult. There are no wordsthat I know vile enough to stigmatise such disgrace as yours! Do youknow what you have been to me, Angela? A saint--a star; ineffably pure,ineffably remote; a creature to worship at a distance; for whose sake itwas scarce a sacrifice to repress all that is common to the base heart ofman; from whom a kind word was enough for happiness--so pure, so far away,so detached from this vile age we live in. God, how that saintly face hascheated me! Mock saint, mock nun; a creature of passions like my own butmore stealthy; from top to toe an incarnate lie!"
He flung out of the room, and she heard his footsteps about the house, andheard doors opened and shut. She waited for no more; but, being sure bythis time that her sister had left the premises, her own desire was toreturn to Farebam House as soon as possible, counting upon finding Hyacinththere; yet with a sick fear that the seducer might take base advantage ofher sister's terror and confused spirits, and hustle her off upon the fataljourney he had planned.
The boat lay where she had moored it, at the foot of the wooden stair, andshe was stepping into it when Fareham ran hastily to the bank.
"Your paramour has got clear off," he said; and then asked curtly, "Howcame you by that boat?"
"I brought it from Fareham House."
"What! you came here alone by water at so late an hour! You heaven-bornadventuress! Other women need education in vice; but to you it comes bynature."
He pulled off his doublet as he stepped into the boat; then seated himselfand took the sculls.
"Has your lordship not left a horse waiting for you?" Angela inquiredhesitatingly.
"My lordship's horse will find his stables before morning with the groomthat has him in charge. I am going to row you home. Love expectant is bold;but disappointed love may lack courage for a solitary jaunt after midnight.Come, mistress, let us have no ceremony. We have done with that forever--as we have done with friendship. There are thousands of women inEngland, all much of a pattern; and you are one of them. That is the end ofour romance."
He bent to his work, and rowed with a steady stroke, and in a stubbornsilence, which lasted till it was more strangely broken than such angrysilence is apt to be.
The tide was still running up, and it was as much as the single oarsmancould do, in that heavy boat, to hold his own against the stream.
Angela sat watching him, with her gaze rooted to that dark countenance andbare head, on which the iron-grey hair waved thick and strong, for Farehamhad never consented to envelop his neck and shoulders in a mantle of deadmen's tresses, and wore his own hair after the fashion of Charles theFirst's time. So intent was her watch, that the objects on either shorepassed her like shadows in a dream. The Primate's palace on her right hand,as the boat swept round that great bend which the river makes oppositeLambeth Marsh; on her left, as they neared London, the stern grandeur ofthe Abbey and St. Margaret's. It was only as they approached Whitehall thatshe became aware of a light upon the water which was not the reflectionof daybreak, and, looking suddenly up, she saw the fierce glare of aconflagration in the eastern sky, and cried--
"There is a fire, my lord!--a great fire, I doubt, in the city."
The long roof and massive tower of St Paul's stood dark against the vividsplendour of that sky, and every timber in the scaffolding showed like ablack lattice across the crimson and sulphur of raging flames.
Fareham looked round, without moving his sculls from the rowlocks.
"A great fire in verity, mistress! Would God it meant the fulfilment ofprophecy!"
"What prophecy, sir?"
"The end of the world, with which we are threatened in this year. God, howthe flames rage and mount! Would it were the great fire, and He had cometo judge us, and to empty the vials of His wrath upon profligates andseducers!"
He looked at the face opposite, radiant with reflected rose and gold,supernal in that strange light, and, oh, so calm in every line and feature,the large dark eyes meeting his with a gaze that seemed to him halfindignant, half reproachful.
"Oh, what hypocrites these women are!" he told himself. "And all alike--allalike. What comedians! For acting one need not go to the Duke's or theKing's. One may see it at one's own board, by one's own hearth. Acting,nothing but acting! And I thought that in the universal mass of falsehoodand folly there were some rare stars, dwelling apart here and there, andthat she was one of them. An idle dream! Nature has made them all in onemould, and it is but by means and opportunity that they differ."
Higher and higher rose that vast sheet of vivid colour; and now every towerand steeple was bathed in rosy light, or else stood black against theradiant sky--towers illuminated, towers in densest shadow; the slim sparsof ships showing as if drawn with pen and ink on a sulphur background--ascene of surpassing splendour and terror. Fareham had seen Flemish villagesblazing, Flemish citadels exploding, their fragments hurled skyward in ablue flame of gunpowder; but never this vast arch of crimson, glowing andgrowing before his astonished gaze, as he paddled the boat inshore, andstood up to watch the great disaster.
"God has remembered the new Sodom," he said savagely. "He punished us withpestilence, and we took no heed. And now He tries us with fire. But if itcome not yonder," pointing to Whitehall, which was immediately abovethem, for their boat lay close to the King's landing-stage--"if, like thecontagion, it stays in the east and only the citizens suffer, why, vive labagatelle! We--and our concubines--have no part in the punishment. We, whocall down the fire, do not suffer it."
Spellbound by that strange spectacle, Fareham stood and gazed, and Angelawas afraid to urge him to take the boat on to Fareham House, anxious asshe was to span those few hundred yards of distance, to be assured of hersister's safety.
They waited thus nearly an hour, the sky ever increasing in brilliancy, andthe sounds of voices and tramp of hurrying feet growing with every minute.Whitehall was now all alive--men and women, in a careless undress, at everywindow, some of them hanging half out of the window to talk to people inthe court below. Shrieks of terror or of wonder, ejaculations, and oathssounding on every side; while Fareham, who had moored the boat to an ironring in the wall by his Majesty's stairs, stood gloomy and motionless, andmade no further comment, only watched the conflagration in dismal silence,fascinated by tha
t prodigious ruin.
It was but the beginning of that stupendous destruction, yet it was alreadygreat enough to seem like the end of all things.
"And last night, in the Court theatre, Killigrew's players were making ajest of a pestilence that filled the grave-pits by thousands," Farehammuttered, as if awaking from a dream. "Well, the wits will have a newsubject for their mirth--London in flames."
He untied the rope, took his seat and rowed out into the stream. Withinthat hour in which they had waited, the Thames had covered itself withtraffic; boats were moving westward, loaded with frightened souls in casualattire, and with heaps of humble goods and chattels. Some whose houses werenearest the river had been quick enough to save a portion of their poorpossessions, and to get them packed on barges; but these were the wiseminority. The greater number of the sufferers were stupefied by thesuddenness of the calamity, the rapidity with which destruction rushed uponthem, the flames leaping from house to house, spanning chasms of emptiness,darting hither and thither like lizards or winged scorpions, or breakingout mysteriously in fresh places, so that already the cry of arson hadarisen, and the ever-growing fire was set down to fiendish creatureslabouring secretly at a work of universal destruction.
Most of the sufferers looked on at the ruin of their homes, paralysed byhorror, unable to help themselves or to mitigate their losses by energeticaction of any kind. Dumb and helpless as sheep, they saw their propertydestroyed, their children's lives imperilled, and could only thankProvidence, and those few brave men who helped them in their helplessness,for escape from a fiery death. Panic and ruin prevailed within a mileeastward of Fareham House, when the boat ground against the edge of themarble landing-stage, and Angela alighted and ran quickly up the stairs,and made her way straight to the house. The door stood wide open, andcandles were burning in the vestibule. The servants were at the eastern endof the terrace watching the fire, too much engrossed to see their masterand his companion land at the western steps.
At the foot of the great staircase Angela heard herself called by acrystalline voice, and, looking up, saw Henriette hanging over the banisterrail.
"Auntie, where have you been?"
"Is your mother with you?" Angela asked.
"Mother is locked in her bed-chamber, and mighty sullen. She told me to goto bed. As if anybody could lie quietly in bed with London burning!" addedPapillon, her tone implying that a great city in flames was a kind ofentertainment that could not be too highly appreciated.
She came flying downstairs in her pretty silken deshabille, with her hairstreaming, and flung her arm round her aunt's neck.
"Ma chatte, where have you been?"
"On the terrace."
"Fi donc, menteuse! I saw you and my father land at the west stairs, fiveminutes ago."
"We had been looking at the fire."
"And never offered to take me with you! What a greedy pig!"
"Indeed, dearest, it is no scene for little girls to look upon."
"And when I am grown up what shall I have to talk about if I miss all thegreat sights?"
"Come to your room, love. You will see only too much from your windows. Iam going to your mother."
"Ce n'est pas la peine. She is in one of her tempers, and has lockedherself in."
"No matter. She will see me."
"Je m'en doute. She came home in a coach-and-four nearly two hours ago,with Monsieur de Malfort; and I think they must have quarrelled. They badeeach other good night so uncivilly; but he was more huffed than mother."
"Where were you that you know so much?"
"In the gallery. Did I not tell you I shouldn't be able to sleep? I wentinto the gallery for coolness, and then I heard the coach in the courtyard,and the doors opened, and I listened."
"Inquisitive child!"
"No, I was not inquisitive. I was only vastly hipped for want of knowingwhat to do with myself. And I ran to bid her ladyship good morning, for itwas close upon one o'clock; but she frowned at me, and pushed me asidewith a 'Go to your bed, troublesome imp! What business have you up at thishour?' 'As much business as you have riding about in your coach,' I hada mind to say, mais je me tenais coy; and made her ladyship la belleJennings' curtsy instead. She sinks lower and rises straighter than any ofthe other ladies. I watched her on mother's visiting-day. Lord, auntie, howwhite you are! One might take you for a ghost!"
Angela put the little prattler aside, more gently, perhaps, than the motherhad done, and passed hurriedly on to Lady Fareham's room. The door wasstill locked, but she would take no denial.
"I must speak with you," she said.
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