CHAPTER XXI
IN THE MEANWHILE
The news of the police raid on a secret gambling club in London,together with the fracas which it entailed, had of necessity reachedeven as far as sea-girt Thanet. Squire Boatfield had been the first tohear of it; he spread the news as fast as he could, for he was overfondof gossip, and Dame Harrison over at St. Lawrence had lent him ableassistance.
Sir Marmaduke had, of course, the fullest details concerning the affair,for he himself owned to having been present in the very house where thedisturbance had occurred. He was not averse to his neighbors knowingthat he was a frequenter of those exclusive and smart gambling clubs,which were avowedly the resort of the most elegant cavaliers of the day,and his account of some of the events of that memorable night had beenas entertaining as it was highly-colored.
He avowed, however, that, disgusted at Richard Lambert's shamefulconduct, he had quitted the place early, some little while before myLord Protector's police had made a descent upon the gamblers. As forMistress de Chavasse, her name was never mentioned in connection withthe affair. She had been in London at the time certainly, staying witha friend, who was helping her in the choice of a new gown for the comingautumn.
She returned to Acol Court with her brother-in-law, apparently ashorrified as he was at the disgrace which she vowed Richard Lambert hadheaped upon them all.
The story of the young man being caught in the very act of cheating atcards lost nothing in the telling. He had been convicted before JudgeParry of obtaining money by lying and other illicit means, had beencondemned to fine and imprisonment and as he refused to pay theformer--most obstinately declaring that he was penniless--he was made tostand for two hours in the pillory, and was finally dragged through thestreets in a rickety cart in full sight of a jeering crowd, sitting withhis back to the nag in company of the public hangman, and attired inshameful and humiliating clothes.
What happened to him after undergoing this wonderfully lenientsentence--for many there were who thought he should have been publiclywhipped and branded as a cheat--nobody knew or cared.
They kept him in prison for over ten weeks, it seems, but Sir Marmadukedid not know what had become of him since then.
The other gentlemen got off fairly lightly with fines and brief periodsof imprisonment. Young Segrave, so 'twas said, had been shipped to NewEngland by his father, but Master and Mistress Endicott had gone beyondthe seas at the expense of the State, and not for their own pleasure oradvancement. It appears that my Lord Protector's vigilance patrol hadkept a very sharp eye on these two people, who had more than once had toanswer for illicit acts before the Courts. They tried in a most shamefulmanner it appears, to implicate Sir Marmaduke and Mistress de Chavassein their disgrace, but as the former very pertinently remarked, "Howcould he, a simple Kentish squire have aught to do with a smart Londonclub? and people of such evil repute as the Endicotts could of a truthnever be believed."
All these rumors and accounts had, of course, also reached Sue's ears.At first she took up an attitude of aggressive incredulity when herformer friend was accused: nothing but the plain facts as set forth inthe _Public Advertiser_ of August the 5th would convince her thatRichard Lambert could be so base and mean as Sir Marmaduke had averred.
Even then, in her innermost heart, a vague and indefinable instinctcalled out to her in Lambert's name, not to believe all that was said ofhim. She could not think of him as lying, and cheating at a game ofcards, when common sense itself told her that he was not sufficientlyconversant with its rules to turn them to his own advantage. Herhot-headed partisanship of him gave way of necessity as the weeks spedby, to a more passive disapproval of his condemnation, and this in itsturn to a kindly charity for what she thought must have been hisignorance rather than his sin.
What worried her most was that he was not nigh her, now that hersentimental romance was reaching its super-acute crisis. During herguardian's temporary absence from Acol she had made earnest and resoluteefforts to see her mysterious lover. She thought that he must know thatSir Marmaduke and Mistress de Chavasse were away and that she herselfwas free momentarily from watchful eyes.
Yet though with pathetic persistence she haunted the park and thewoodlands around the Court, she never even once caught sight of thebroad-brimmed hat and drooping plume of her romantic prince. It seemedas if the earth had swallowed him up.
Upset and vaguely terrified, she had on one occasion thrown prudence tothe winds and sought out the old Quakeress and Adam Lambert with whom helodged. But the old Quakeress was very deaf, and explanations with herwere laborious and unsatisfactory, whilst Adam seemed to entertain asullen and irresponsible dislike for the foreigner.
All she gathered from these two was that there was nothing unusual inthis sudden disappearance of their lodger. He came and went mosterratically, went no one knew whither, returned at most unexpectedmoments, never slept more than an hour or two in his bed which hequitted at amazingly early hours, strolling out of the cottage when alldecent folk were just beginning their night's rest, and wandering offunseen, unheard, only to return as he had gone.
He paid his money for his room regularly, however, and this was vastlyacceptable these hard times.
But to Sue it was passing strange that her prince should be out of herreach, just when Sir Marmaduke's and Mistress de Chavasse's absence hadmade their meetings more easy and pleasant.
Yet with it all, she was equally conscious of an unaccountable feelingof relief, and every evening, when at about eight o'clock she returnedhomewards after having vainly awaited the prince, there was nothing ofthe sadness and disappointment in her heart which a maiden should feelwhen she has failed to see her lover.
She was just as much in love with him as ever!--oh! of that she feltquite sure! she still thrilled at thought of his heroic martyrdom forthe cause which he had at heart, she still was conscious of a wonderfulfeeling of elation when she was with him, and of pride when she saw thisremarkable hero, this selfless patriot at her feet, and heard hisimpassioned declarations of love, even when these were alloyed withfrantic outbursts of jealousy. She still yearned for him when she didnot see him, even though she dreaded his ill-humor when he was nigh.
She had promised to be his wife, soon and in secret, for he had vowedthat she did not love him if she condemned him to three long months ofinfinite torture from jealousy and suspense.
This promise she had given him freely and whole-heartedly more than afortnight ago. Since that memorable evening when she had thus plightedher troth to him, when she had without a shadow of fear or a tremor ofcompunction entrusted her entire future, her heart and soul to hiskeeping, since then she had not seen him.
Sir Marmaduke had gone to London, also Mistress de Chavasse, and she hadnot even caught sight of the weird silhouette of her French prince.Lambert, too, had gone, put out of her way temporarily--or mayhap,forever--through the irresistible force of a terrible disgrace. Therewas no one to spy on her movements, no one to dog her footsteps, yet shehad not seen him.
When her guardian returned, he seemed so engrossed with Lambert'smisdeeds that he gave little thought to his ward. He and Mistress deChavasse were closeted together for hours in the small withdrawing-room,whilst she was left to roam about the house and grounds unchallenged.
Then at last one evening--it was late August then--when despair hadbegun to grip her heart, and she herself had become the prey of vaguefears, of terrors for his welfare, his life mayhap, on which he had ofttold her that the vengeful King of France had set a price--one eveninghe came to greet her walking through the woods, treading the soft carpetof moss with a light elastic step.
Oh! that had been a rapturous evening! one which she oft strove torecall, now that sadness had once more overwhelmed her. He had been alltenderness, all love, all passion! He vowed that he adored her as anidolater would worship his divinity. Jealous? oh, yes! madly, insanelyjealous! for she was fair above all women and sweet and pure andtempting to all men like some ripe and juicy fruit read
y to fall into ayearning hand.
But his jealousy took on a note of melancholy and of humility. Heworshiped her so and wished to feel her all his own. She listenedentranced, forgetting her terrors, her disappointments, the vague ennuiwhich had assailed her of late. She yielded herself to the delights ofhis caresses, to the joy of this hour of solitude and rapture. The nightwas close and stormy; from afar, muffled peals of thunder echoed throughthe gigantic elms, whilst vivid flashes of lightning weirdly lit up attimes the mysterious figure of this romantic lover, with his faceforever in shadow, one eye forever hidden behind a black band, his voiceforever muffled.
But it was a tempestuous wooing, a renewal of that happy evening in thespring--oh! so long ago it seemed now!--when first he had poured in herear the wild torrents of his love. The girl--so young, so inexperienced,so romantic--was literally swept off her feet; she listened to his wildwords, yielded her lips to his kiss, and whilst she half feared theimpetuosity of his mood, she delighted in the very terrors it evoked.
A secret marriage? Why, of course! since he suffered so terribly throughnot feeling her all his own. Soon!--at once!--at Dover before theclergyman at All Souls, with whom he--her prince--had already spoken.
Yes! it would have to be at Dover, for the neighboring villages mightprove too dangerous. Sir Marmaduke might hear of it, mayhap. It wouldrest with her to free herself for one day.
Then came that delicious period of scheming, of stage-managingeverything for the all-important day. He would arrange about a chaise,and she should walk up to the Canterbury Road to meet it. He would awaither in the church at Dover, for 'twas best that they should not be seentogether until after the happy knot was tied, when he declared that hewould be ready to defy the universe.
It had been a long interview, despite the tempest that raged above andaround them. The great branches of the elms groaned and cracked underfury of the wind, the thunder pealed overhead and then died away withslow majesty out towards the sea. From afar could be heard the angrybillows dashing themselves against the cliffs.
They had to seek shelter under the colonnaded porch of the summerhouse,and Sue had much ado to keep the heavy drops of rain from reaching hershoes and the bottom of her kirtle.
But she was attune with the storm, she loved to hear the weird sh-sh-shof the leaves, the monotonous drip of the rain on the roof of the summerhouse, and in the intervals of intense blackness to catch sight of herlover's face, pale of hue, with one large eye glancing cyclops-like intohers, as a vivid flash of lightning momentarily tore the darknessasunder and revealed him still crouching at her feet.
Intense lassitude followed the wild mental turmoil of that night. Shehad arranged to meet him again two days hence in order to repeat to himwhat she had heard the while of Sir Marmaduke's movements, and when shewas like to be free to go to Dover. During those intervening two daysshe tried hard to probe her own thoughts; her mind, her feelings: butwhat she found buried in the innermost recesses of her heart frightenedher so, that she gave up thinking.
She lay awake most of the night, telling herself how much she loved herprince; she spent half a day in the perusal of a strange book called_The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet_ by one William Shakespeare who hadlived not so long ago: and found herself pondering as to whether her ownsentiments with regard to her prince were akin to those so exquisitelyexpressed by those two young people who had died because they loved oneanother so dearly.
Then she heard that towards the end of the week Sir Marmaduke andMistress de Chavasse would be journeying together to Canterbury in orderto confer with Master Skyffington the lawyer, anent her own fortune,which was to be handed to her in its entirety in less than three months,when she would be of age.
The Nest of the Sparrowhawk: A Romance of the XVIIth Century Page 21