by Anthony Hope
CHAPTER XIX
A NIGHT ON THE ROAD
In a man of green age and inexperience a hasty judgment may gain pardonand none need wonder that his hopes carry him on straightway toconclusions born of desire rather than of reason. The meeting I fearedhad passed off so softly that I forgot how strange and delicate it was,and what were the barriers which a gust of sympathy had for the momentlevelled. It did not enter my mind that they must raise their headsagain, and that friendship, or even companionship, must be impossiblebetween the two whom I, desperately seeking some refuge, had throwntogether. Yet an endeavour was made, and that on both sides; obligationblunted the edge of Mistress Barbara's scorn, freedom's respect forvirtue's chain schooled Nell to an unwonted staidness of demeanour. Thefires of war but smouldered, the faintest puff of smoke showing onlyhere and there. I was on the alert to avoid an outbreak; for awhile nooutbreak came and my hopes grew to confidence. But then--I can write thething no other way--that ancient devil of hers made re-entry into theheart of Mistress Gwyn. I was a man, and a man who had loved her; it wasthen twice intolerable that I should disclaim her dominion, that Ishould be free, nay, that I should serve another with a sedulous carewhich might well seem devotion; for the offence touching the guinea wasforgotten, my mock drowning well-nigh forgiven, and although Barbara hadfew words for me, they were such that gratitude and friendship shone inthem through the veil of embarrassment. Mistress Nell's shrewd eyes wereon us, and she watched while she aided. It was in truth her interest, asshe conceived, to carry Barbara safe out of Dover; but there waskindness also in her ample succour; although (ever slave to the sparkleof a gem) she seized with eager gratitude on Louis' jewelled dagger whenI offered it as my share of our journey's charges, she gave full return;Barbara was seated in her coach, a good horse was provided for me, herservant found me a sober suit of clothes and a sword. Thus our strangeparty stole from Dover before the town was awake, Nell obeying theKing's command which sent her back to London, and delighting that shecould punish him for it by going in our company. I rode behind thecoach, bearing myself like a serving-man until we reached open country,when I quickened pace and stationed myself by the window. Up to thistime matters had gone well; if they spoke, it was of service given andkindness shown. But as the day wore on and we came near Canterbury thedevil began to busy himself. Perhaps I showed some discouragement at thegrowing coldness of Barbara's manner, and my anxiety to warm her togreater cordiality acted as a spur on our companion. First Nell laughedthat my sallies gained small attention and my compliments no return,that Barbara would not talk of our adventures of the day before, butharped always on coming speedily where her father was and so dischargingme from my forced service. A merry look declared that if MistressQuinton would not play the game another would; a fusillade of glancesopened, Barbara seeing and feigning not to see, I embarrassed, yetchagrined into some return; there followed words, half-whispered,half-aloud, not sparing in reminiscence of other days and mischievouslypointed with tender sentiment. The challenge to my manhood was tootempting, the joy of encounter too sweet. Barbara grew utterly silent,sitting with eyes downcast and lips set in a disapproval that needed nospeech for its expression. Bolder and bolder came Nell's advances; whenI sought to drop behind she called me up; if I rode ahead she swore shewould bid the driver gallop his horses till she came to me again. "Ican't be without you, Simon. Ah, 'tis so long since we were together,"she whispered, and turned naughty eyes on Barbara.
Yet we might have come through without declared conflict, had not athing befallen us at Canterbury that brought Nell into fresh temptation,and thereby broke the strained cords of amity. The doings of the Kingat Dover had set the country in some stir; there was no love of theFrench, and less of the Pope; men were asking, and pretty loudly, whyMadame came; she had been seen in Canterbury, the Duke of York had givena great entertainment there for her. They did not know what I knew, butthey were uneasy concerning the King's religion and their own. Yet Nellmust needs put her head well out of window as we drove in. I know notwhether the sequel were what she desired, it was at least what sheseemed not to fear; a fellow caught sight of her and raised a cheer. Thenews spread quick among the idle folk in the street, and the busy,hearing it, came out of their houses. A few looked askance at ourprotector, but the larger part, setting their Protestantism above theirscruples, greeted her gladly, and made a procession for her, cheeringand encouraging her with cries which had more friendliness than delicacyin them. Now indeed I dropped behind and rode beside the mountedservant. The fellow was all agrin, triumphing in his mistress'spopularity. Even so she herself exulted in it, and threw all around nodsand smiles, ay, and, alas, repartees conceived much in the same spiritas the jests that called them forth. I could have cried on the earth toswallow me, not for my own sake (in itself the scene was entertainingenough, however little it might tend to edification), but on account ofMistress Barbara. Fairly I was afraid to ride forward and see her face,and dreaded to remember that I had brought her to this situation. ButNell laughed and jested, flinging back at me now and again a look thatmocked my glum face and declared her keen pleasure in my perplexity andher scorn of Barbara's shame. Where now were the tenderness and sympathywhich had made their meeting beautiful? The truce was ended and warraged relentless.
We came to our inn; I leapt from my horse and forestalled the bustlinghost in opening the coach door. The loons of townsmen and theirgossiping wives lined the approach on either side; Nell sprang out,merry, radiant, unashamed; she laughed in my face as she ran past meamid the plaudits; slowly Barbara followed; with a low bow I offered myarm. Alas, there rose a murmur of questions concerning her; who was thelady that rode with Nell Gwyn, who was he that, although plainlyattired, bore himself so proudly? Was he some great lord, travellingunknown, and was the lady----? Well, the conjectures may be guessed, andMistress Quinton heard them. Her pride broke for a moment and I fearedshe would weep; then she drew herself up and walked slowly by with ahaughty air and a calm face, so that the murmured questions fell tosilence. Perhaps I also had my share in the change, for I walked afterher, wearing a fierce scowl, threatening with my eyes, and having myhand on the hilt of my sword.
The host, elate with the honour of Nell's coming, was eager to offer usaccommodation. Barbara addressed not a word either to Nell or to me, butfollowed a maid to the chamber allotted to her. Nell was in no suchhaste to hide herself from view. She cried for supper, and was led to aroom on the first floor which overlooked the street. She threw thewindow open, and exchanged more greetings and banter with her admirersbelow. I flung my hat on the table and sat moodily in a chair. Food wasbrought, and Nell, turning at last from her entertainment, flew topartake of it with merry eagerness.
"But doesn't Mistress Quinton sup with us?" she said.
Mistress Quinton, it seemed, had no appetite for a meal, was shut closein her own chamber, and refused all service. Nell laughed and bade mefall to. I obeyed, being hungry in spite of my discomfort.
I was resolute not to quarrel with her. She had shewn me greatfriendliness; nay, and I had a fondness for her, such as I defy any man(man I say, not woman) to have escaped. But she tried me sorely, andwhile we ate she plied me with new challenges and fresh incitements toanger. I held my temper well in bounds, and, when I was satisfied, rosewith a bow, saying that I would go and enquire if I could be of any aidto Mistress Quinton.
"She won't shew herself to you," cried Nell mockingly.
"She will, if you're not with me," I retorted.
"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!"
A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady'scompliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host,she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speakwith her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; shehad a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer mybusiness till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night.The maid tripped off smiling.
"Plague on her!" I cried ang
rily and loudly. A laugh greeted theexclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of theroom where we had supped.
"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancingin delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! Butcome, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have givenme a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in yourheart, poor Simon?"
"I don't understand you. I have no need of a dagger," I answeredstiffly; yet, feeling a fool there in the passage, I followed her intothe room.
"Your heart is pierced already?" she asked. "Ah, but your heart healswell! I'll spend no pity on you."
There was now a new tone in her voice. Her eyes still sparkled inmischievous exultation that she had proved right and I come away soreand baffled. But when she spoke of the healing of my heart, there was anecho of sadness; the hinting of some smothered sorrow seemed to bestruggling with her mirth. She was a creature all compounded of suddenchanging moods; I did not know when they were true, when feigned insport or to further some device. She came near now and bent over mychair, saying gently,
"Alas, I'm very wicked! I couldn't help the folk cheering me, Simon.Surely it was no fault of mine?"
"You had no need to look out of the window of the coach," said Isternly.
"But I did that with never a thought. I wanted the air. I----"
"Nor to jest and banter. It was mighty unseemly, I swear."
"In truth I was wrong to jest with them," said Nell remorsefully. "Andwithin, Simon, my heart was aching with shame, even while I jested. Ah,you don't know the shame I feel!"
"In good truth," I returned, "I believe you feel no shame at all."
"You're very cruel to me, Simon. Yet it's no more than my desert. Ah,if----"; she sighed heavily. "If only, Simon----," she said, and herhand was very near my hair by the back of the chair. "But that's pastpraying," she ended, sighing again most woefully. "Yet I have been ofsome service to you."
"I thank you for it most heartily," said I, still stiff and cold.
"And I was very wrong to-day. Simon, it was on her account."
"What?" I cried. "Did Mistress Quinton bid you put your head out andjest with the fellows on the pavement?"
"She did not bid me; but I did it because she was there."
I looked up at her; it was a rare thing with her, but she would not meetmy glance. I looked down again.
"It was always the same between her and me," murmured Nell. "Ay, so longago--even at Hatchstead."
"We're not in Hatchstead now," said I roughly.
"No, nor even in Chelsea. For even in Chelsea you had a kindness forme."
"I have much kindness for you now."
"Well, then you had more."
"It is in your knowledge why now I have no more."
"Yes, it's in my knowledge!" she cried. "Yet I carried Mistress Quintonfrom Dover."
I made no answer to that. She sighed "Heigho," and for a moment therewas silence. But messages pass without words, and there are speechlessMercuries who carry tidings from heart to heart. Then the air is fullof whisperings, and silence is but foil to a thousand sounds which thesoul hears though the dull corporeal ear be deaf. Did she still amuseherself, or was there more? Sometimes a part, assumed in play or malice,so grows on the actor that he cannot, even when he would, throw asidehis trappings and wash from his face the paint which was to show thepassion that he played. The thing takes hold and will not be thrownaside; it seems to seek revenge for the light assumption and punishesthe bravado that feigned without feeling by a feeling which is notfeint. She was now, for the moment if you will, but yet now, in earnest.Some wave of recollection or of fancy had come over her and transformedher jest. She stole round till her face peeped into mine in piteousbewitching entreaty, asking a sign of fondness, bringing back the past,raising the dead from my heart's sepulchre. There was a throbbing in mybrain; yet I had need of a cool head. With a spring I was on my feet.
"I'll go and ask if Mistress Barbara sleeps," I stammered. "I fear shemay not be well attended."
"You'll go again? Once scorned, you'll go again, Simon? Well, the maidwill smile; they'll make a story of it among themselves at their supperin the kitchen."
The laugh of a parcel of knaves and wenches! Surely it is a small thing!But men will face death smiling who run wry-faced from such ridicule. Isank in my chair again. But in truth did I desire to go? The dead rise,or at least there is a voice that speaks from the tomb. A man tarries tolisten. Well if he be not lost in listening!
With a sigh Nell moved across the room and flung the window open. Theloiterers were gone, all was still, only the stars looked in, only thesweet scent of the night made a new companion.
"It's like a night at Hatchstead," she whispered. "Do you remember howwe walked there together? It smelt as it smells to-night. It's so longago!" She came quickly towards me and asked "Do you hate me now?" butdid not wait for the answer. She threw herself in a chair near me andfixed her eyes on me. It was strange to see her face grave and wrungwith agitation; yet she was better thus, the new timidity became hermarvellously.
There was a great clock in the corner of the old panelled room; itticked solemnly, seeming to keep time with the beating of my heart. Ihad no desire to move, but sat there waiting; yet every nerve of my bodywas astir. Now I watched her every movement, took reckoning of everyfeature, seemed to read more than her outward visage showed and to gainknowledge of her heart. I knew that she tempted me, and why. I was not afool, to think that she loved me; but she was set to conquer me, andwith her there was no price that seemed high when the prize was victoryor a whim's fulfilment.
I would have written none of this, but that it is so part and marrow ofmy history that without it the record of my life would go limping on oneleg.
She rose and came near me again. Now she laughed, yet still not lightly,but as though she hid a graver mood.
"Come," said she, "you needn't fear to be civil to me. Mistress Barbarais not here."
The taunt was well conceived; for the most part there is no incitementthat more whips a man to any madness than to lay self-control to thescore of cowardice, and tell him that his scruples are not his own, butworn by command of another and on pain of her displeasure. But sometimeswoman's cunning goes astray, and a name, used in mockery, speaks foritself with strong attraction, as though it held the charm of her itstands for. The name, falling from Nell's pouting lips, had power toraise in me a picture, and the picture spread, like a very painting doneon canvas, a screen between me and the alluring eyes that sought mine inprovoking witchery. She did not know her word's work, and laughed againto see me grow yet more grave at Barbara's name.
"The stern mistress is away," she whispered. "May we not sport? The dooris shut! Why, Simon, you're dull. In truth you're as dull as the Kingwhen his purse is empty."
I raised my eyes to hers, she read the thought. She tossed her head,flinging the brown curls back; her eyes twinkled merrily, and she saidin a soft whisper half-smothered in a rising laugh,
"But, Simon, the King also is away."
I owed nothing to the King and thought nothing of the King. It was notthere I stuck. Nay, and I did not stick on any score of conscience. Yetstick I did, and gazed at her with a dumb stare. She seemed to fall intoa sudden rage, crying,
"Go to her then if you will, but she won't have you. Would you like toknow what she called you to-day in the coach?"
"I would hear nothing that was not for my ears."
"A very pretty excuse; but in truth you fear to hear it."
Alas, the truth was even as she said. I feared to hear it.
"But you shall hear it. 'A good honest fellow,' she said, 'but somewhatforward for his station.' So she said, and leant back with half-closedlids. You know the trick these great ladies have? By Heaven, though, Ithink she wronged you! For I'll swear on my Bible that you're notforward, Simon. Well, I'm not Mistress Quinton."
"You are not," said I, sore and angry, and wishing
to wound her inrevenge for the blow she had dealt me.
"Now you're gruff with me for what she said. It's a man's way. I carenot. Go and sigh outside her door; she won't open it to you."
She drew near to me again, coaxing and seeking to soften me.
"I took your part," she whispered, "and declared that you were a finegentleman. Nay, I told her how once I had come near to--Well, I told hermany things that it should please you to hear. But she grew mighty shortwith me, and on the top came the folk with their cheers. Hence my lady'sin a rage."
She shrugged her shoulders; I sat there sullen. The scornful words werewhirling through my brain. "Somewhat forward for his station!" It was ahard judgment on one who had striven to serve her. In what had I shewnpresumption? Had she not professed to forgive all offence? She kept thetruth for others, and it came out when my back was turned.
"Poor Simon!" said Nell softly. "Indeed I wonder any lady should speakso of you. It's an evil return for your kindness to her."
Silence fell on us for awhile. Nell was by me now, her hand restedlightly on my shoulder, and, looking up, I saw her eyes on my face inmingled pensiveness and challenge.
"Indeed you are not forward," she murmured with a little laugh, and setone hand over her eyes.
I sat and looked at her; yet, though I seemed to look at her only, thewhole of the room with its furnishings is stamped clear and clean on mymemory. Nell moved a little away and stood facing me.
"It grows late," she said softly, "and we must be early on the road.I'll bid you good-night, and go to my bed."
She came to me, holding out her hand; I did not take it, but she laid itfor a moment on mine. Then she drew it away and moved towards the door.I rose and followed her.
"I'll see you safe on your way," said I in a low voice. She met my gazefor a moment, but made no answer in words. We were in the corridor now,and she led the way. Once she turned her head and again looked at me. Itwas a sullen face she saw, but still I followed.
"Tread lightly!" she whispered. "There's her door; we pass it, and shewould not love to know that you escorted me. She scorns you herself, andyet when another----" The sentence went unended.
In a tumult of feeling still I followed. I was half-mad with resentmentagainst Barbara; swearing to myself that her scorn was nothing to me, Ishrank from nothing to prove to my own mind the lie that my heart wouldnot receive.
"The door!" whispered Nell, going delicately on her toes with upliftedforefinger.
I cannot tell why, but at the word I came to a stand. Nell, looking overher shoulder and seeing me stand, turned to front me. She smiledmerrily, then frowned, then smiled again with raised eye-brows. I stoodthere, as though pinned to the spot. For now I had heard a sound fromwithin. It came very softly. There was a stir as of someone moving, thena line of some soft sad song, falling in careless half-consciousnessfrom saddened lips. The sound fell clear and plain on my ears, though Ipaid no heed to the words and have them not in my memory; I think thatin them a maid spoke to her lover who left her, but I am not sure. Ilistened. The snatch died away, and the movement in the room ceased. Allwas still again, and Nell's eyes were fixed on mine. I met themsquarely, and thus for awhile we stood. Then came the unspoken question,cried from the eyes that were on mine in a thousand tones. I could tracethe play of her face but dimly by the light of the smoky lantern, buther eyes I seemed to see bright and near. I had looked for scorn there,and, it might be, amusement. I seemed to see (perhaps the imperfectlight played tricks), besides lure and raillery, reproach, sorrow, and,most strange of all, a sort of envy. Then came a smile, and ever solightly her finger moved in beckoning. The song came no more through theclosed door: my ears were empty of it, but not my heart; there itsounded still in its soft pleading cadence. Poor maid, whose lover lefther! Poor maid, poor maid! I looked full at Nell, but did not move. Thelids dropped over her eyes, and their lights went out. She turned andwalked slowly and alone along the corridor. I watched her going, yes,wistfully I watched. But I did not follow, for the snatch of song rosein my heart. There was a door at the end of the passage; she opened itand passed through. For a moment it stood open, then a hand stole backand slowly drew it close. It was shut. The click of the lock rang loudand sharp through the silent house.