Parson Kelly

by Andrew Lang

  CHAPTER X

  WHAT CAME OF MR. KELLY'S WINNINGS FROM THE SOUTH SEA

  Luck is a chameleon, and in November of that same year 1720, thoughtfit to change its complexion. The date, to be precise, was the 17th ofthe month. Mr. Wogan can determine on the particular day, for thereason that Mrs. Barnes carried out her threat, and sent him alaborious long letter concerning the Parson's moral iniquities. Theletter reached Mr. Wogan in October, who was then cleaning his ship atMorlaix in Brittany, and what with his fifteen months of purposelesscruises, felt himself as encrusted with idleness as his ship's bottomwith barnacles. It was just this eternal inactivity which no doubtinduced him to take the serious view of Mrs. Barnes's epistle. 'It isa most cruel affair,' said he to Mr. Talbot, who was with him, 'and ofthe last importance that I should hurry to London and set itstraight.'

  'But you are fixed here,' said the Crow, for so Talbot was commonlycalled from the blackness of his complexion. 'Can I undertake thebusiness for you?'

  'No,' says Nick, shaking his head very solemn; though maybe his eyetwinkled. Mr. Wogan forgets what point the plot was at then, for sincethe black year, 1688, there had been but one plot, though it hadchanged and shifted shape like the faces you see in the dark beforeyou sleep. But he could not hear that anything immediate was intended;and it would be, therefore, the most convenient occasion to refit hisketch _Fortune_. He gave orders to that effect, travelled to Paris,obtained from General Dillon a month's leave to dispose of his ownaffairs, and went whistling to London like a schoolboy off on hisholidays. For, to tell the truth, he was not greatly concerned atGeorge Kelly's backslidings, but on the contrary was inclined tochuckle over them, and trusted completely to his friend's discretion.

  He arrived in London on November 20, and drove boldly to Kelly'slodging in Bury Street. For the Glenshiel affair had completely blownover--there had never been more than a rumour that he was there--andas for the Fifteen, why Mr. Wogan had his pardon like the rest. Thathe got for his behaviour to Captain Montagu at Preston; moreover, whocould know the boy Wogan that ran away from Westminster School, andhis task of copying Lord Clarendon's history, in Mr. Hilton, the manof six feet four in his stockings. He found Kelly's lodgings empty.

  'A letter came for him three days ago,' explained Mrs. Barnes, 'and heset off almost on the instant in an agitation so great that he did notwait to pack his valise, but had it sent after him.'

  'Where to?'

  'I do not know,' replied Mrs. Barnes with a sniff of the nose and atoss of the head, 'and no doubt I am a better woman for not knowing.'

  'No doubt, replied Wogan gravely. 'But, Mrs. Barnes, who signed theletter? Where did it come from?'

  'And how should I know that?' she cried. 'Would I demean myself byreading the letters of a nasty trull? For she's no better for all herbirth, and that's not so high neither.'

  'Ah,' says Wogan, 'I see you don't know who signed the letter.'

  'And that's truth,' said she, 'but I saw the superscription. As forthe letter, he hid it in his bosom.'

  'Well, that's as good as showing the signature. Who carried his valiseafter him?'

  'Francis Vanlear,' she said, 'the porter who plyed in St. James'sStreet and Piccadilly and lodged at the Crown ale-house in GermainStreet.'

  Thither Wogan sent for him, and when he was come asked him whither hehad carried the valise.

  'To Mr. Gunning's at Mussell Hill,' Vanlear answered, where he hadfound a horse ready saddled at the door and 'Mr. Johnson' in a greatfume to be off.

  Wogan gave the porter a crown for his trouble and went forthwith toMr. Gunning's, whom he had not seen since the occasion of his comingdown from Glenshiel. From Mr. Gunning he learned that Kelly hadundoubtedly taken the Aberystwith road, since he had left the horse heborrowed at Beaconsfield, and thither had Mr. Gunning sent to fetchit. Kelly's destination was consequently as clear to Wogan as theurgency of his haste, and coming back into London he dropped in at theCocoa Tree, where he found the story of Lady Oxford and Mr. Kelly afamiliar pleasantry.

  He heard of it again that night at Will's coffeehouse in CoventGarden, and at Burton's in King Street, where Mr. Kelly was very wellknown. For, besides being close to Kelly's lodging, it was one of thehouses to which his letters were directed under cover. From Burton'sWogan came back to Bury Street, and, while smoking a pipe in theparlour before going to bed, he chanced to notice his strongbox. Itstood on the scrutoire by the side of Mr. Kelly's big Bible, whereWogan had left it eighteen months before. It was the brother to Mr.Kelly's strong-box, in every particular but one, and that one astouter lock. Wogan remembered that when he had placed the box on thescrutoire the key was attached to it by a string. Now, however, henoticed that the key was gone. He was sufficiently curious to crossthe room and try the lock. But the box would not open; it was securelylocked. There were papers too within it, as he found out by shakingit. Kelly, then, was using the box--but for what purpose? His own boxserved for his few political papers. Any other papers that needed theshelter of a strong box must be love-letters. Here, then, wereamorous, not political epistles. Besides, he was in the habit ofburning all those which had done their work, and the rest which heneeded he carried about in his own dispatch-box.

  'Now, I wonder,' said Wogan, tapping the lid, 'I wonder whether acertain letter, signed--shall we say Smilinda?--and summoning myfriend to Brampton Bryan, is locked up inside you.' Wogan's guess hitthe truth even to the signature, though he was destined to get littlesatisfaction from this proof of his sagacity. The letter, he laterlearned, lay in box with not a few others in the same handwriting, andthey all ended in the same manner with a request: 'Burn this.' Mr.Kelly would have been honester had he obeyed it, but, like many a manwhen passion gets hold of him, he could not part with them. Faintwhispers breathed, as it seemed, from Heaven, and caught and writtenloud in my lady's hand, pure diamonds fetched up from the obscuremines of a woman's heart, sure he treasured them up beyond all jewels,and locked them up in Mr. Wogan's despatch-box to his own undoing.

  This letter was, (Wogan learned afterwards) the most laconic of themall, and it was the most momentous. It began, 'My own Strephon,' andthen Strephon was crossed out and again written on the top, and it wassigned 'Smilinda' in a doubtful hand; as though, at first, BramptonBryan had recalled to her ladyship the beginning of their affectionswith so overpowering a compulsion that she must needs use the nameswhich were associated with it, and then the dear woman's modestytimidly crossed them out, and in the end love got the upper hand andwrote them in again. At least that was a small portion of all thegreat meanings which Kelly read in the hesitation of her ladyship'saddress. Between the Strephon and the Smilinda there was but oneline--'Come; there is a secret. I have great need of you.' But thishad been quite enough to send Mr. Kelly spurring out into the Novembernight with such speed that he came to Oxford the next day, where hefound the snow lying very deep. The snow troubled him, no doubt,because it delayed him, but he took little account of the cold beyonda sharp pang or two lest Smilinda might have caught a chilblain. Forhimself--well, Smilinda had need of him--the great lady turned forhelp to the Irish outlaw. Wasn't it always so? Her Majesty throws herglove to the page, my lord the King Cophetua goes clean daft for abeggar wench, and the obliging Cupid builds a rickety bridge wherebythe despairing lovers leap into each other's arms.

  Smilinda needed him! There was a tune ravished from Heaven! His wholeframe moved to it as the waves to the direction of the moon. It sangin his blood, his heart beat to it, the hooves of his horse drummed itout on the road. Even the boughs of the trees whispered the words witha tender secrecy to the wind, much as the reeds whispered that othersaying, ages ago, which the Queen in the fable had entrusted to them.And, 'faith, when you come to think of it, there was little differencein meaning between the two remarks. Smilinda needed Mr. Kelly! It was,after all, as much as to say 'Mr. Kelly has ass's ears.' He made suchhaste that on the evening of the second day after his d
eparture fromLondon he cantered up the drive of the Manor House.

  Lady Oxford met him in the hall, and Mr. Kelly's heart gave a greatjump of pride when he saw her stately figure all softened to anattitude of expectation.

  'I knew you would come,' she said; and, as Mr. Kelly bent over herhand, she whispered, 'My Strephon,' for all the world as if heremotion choked her. Then she raised her voice for the servants tohear: 'My lord is from home, Mr. Johnson, but he has commissioned meat once to pay you his regrets and to act as his deputy in yourbusiness.'

  Mr. Kelly was all impatience to broach his business, but herladyship's solicitude would not allow him to speak until he hadsupped. She came near to waiting upon him herself, and certainly pliedhim with her best wine, vowing that it was ill weather for travellers,and that if he kept his glass full beside his elbow it was a sure signhe hated her. This, of course, after the servants had been dismissed.Mr. Kelly chided her for the thought, and, with a shake of the finger,quoted her a text: 'We are bidden not to look upon the wine when it isred,' said he.

  'And a very good text, too,' says she; 'so, if you please, shut youreyes and drink it,' and, coming behind him, she laid her cool handupon his eyes and forehead. So Mr. Kelly drank, and the bumper floatedhis wits into my lady's haven.

  'Now,' says my lady; and, leading the way into her boudoir, she satherself down before the fire, and, clasping her hands at the back ofher head, smiled at Mr. Kelly.

  'Strephon,' she murmured on a lilt of her voice, and with all theprovocation that witchery could devise. Mr. Kelly was on his knees ather side in a moment. She laid a white hand upon his breast, and,gently holding him off:

  'Tell me,' says she, 'why I sent for you.'

  'Because my Smilinda needed me,' he answered with a laugh of pride.Her hand caressed his shoulder. She nodded, bit her under lip andsmiled very wisely.

  'What is the service Strephon can do?' cried Kelly. 'Is it to lift theworld? Give me but your love and I'll accomplish that.'

  Smilinda clapped her hands with delight, like a child.

  'It is nothing so important,' said she. 'It is not in truth anyservice you can do for me, but rather one that I can do for you.'

  Kelly's face lost all its light, and dropped to the glummestdisappointment. He had so nursed that aspiration of doing her somegreat service. Through the night, through the day, it had borne himcompany. Some great service--that was to be the bridge of Cupid'sbuilding whereby they were to stand firm-footed on equal ground. Andnow it was some service Lady Oxford was to do for him. Lady Oxfordnoticed the change; it may have been to read the thought which itexpressed, and that the thought touched her to unwonted depths. Forthe smile faded from her lips, her eyes became grave, thoughtful,there was a certain suspense in her attitude.

  'Must the woman always owe, the man always pay?' she asked, but in abroken way, and with almost a repugnance for herself. Indeed, shebarely finished the question, and then, with an abrupt laugh, crossedto the window, drew aside the curtains, and gazed out upon thedarkness and the glimmering snow.

  'A strange, cold world,' she said in an absent voice, 'with a strangewhite carpet.' Mr. Kelly in truth had given her a glimpse into a worldyet stranger to her ladyship than that which her eyes beheld--a worldthat had an odd white carpet too, though the feet of those who pacedit as often as not were stained--a world of generous impulses andunselfish devotions. Into this world Lady Oxford was peering with anuneasy curiosity. Perhaps for a moment she compared it with her own;perhaps she was caught by it and admired it; but, if so, it was with agreat deal of discomfort. For she dropped the curtain petulantlyacross the window, and, coming back to the fire--well, what she wouldhave said it is impossible to guess, for a gentle tap on the door wasfollowed by a servant's entrance into the room. He carried a letter ona salver, and, advancing to Lady Oxford, offered it to her.

  Now, Mr. Kelly was standing almost at the centre of the mantelpiece,Lady Oxford at one end; and they faced one another. So the maninevitably stopped between them, and, when he lifted up the salver, itwas impossible but that the Parson should observe the superscription.He recognised the handwriting of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. LadyOxford recognised it too, for she flushed as she picked the letter up.But she flushed deeper as she read it through, and then crumpled it upand flung it into the fire with an anger which showed very clearly shewould have done the like for Lady Mary were the writer instead of herletter within reach of her vindictive fingers.

  'A strange, incomprehensible creature is Lady Mary Wortley Montagu,'said Lady Oxford with a laugh and a glance at Mr. Kelly. 'The mostwhimsical contradiction. She offers you a kindness with one hand andslaps you in the face with the other. For instance, this letter here.'Twas written out of pure kindness. It completes the friendliestservice, yet it ends with so rough a jest that but for Strephon's sakeI should be much drawn to reject the service.'

  'For my sake? 'asked Kelly.

  'Why, to be sure. Lady Mary gave me a piece of news a week ago intown. It was that news which made me send for you, and she writes nowexpressly to confirm it. But, let my Strephon answer me,' and sheasked whether he had yet sent his winnings from the Mississippi to beused for the King's service.

  Now, Mr. Kelly was, after all, a human being. It was all very well inthe first flush of prosperity to propose to scatter his few thousands,but afterwards he had come to see that they would not go so very far.Besides, he had now obvious reasons for desiring to cut as agreeable afigure as he could. At all events the money still remained with Mr.Child, the goldsmith, and so he told her ladyship, with a littleremorse.

  'Then,' she cried in joy,' that chance has come for which Smilinda hasbeen longing. My presents, Strephon, you have always refused,' whichwas true enough; indeed, on the other hand, she had Mr. Kelly's royalsnuff-box and a few of his jewels. 'But now I can make your fortune,and with yours my own. There's the sweetness of it,' she said, andclasped her hands on her heart. 'Your fortune, too!'

  'My fortune you have made already,' said he, with other complimentsproper to the occasion. But her ladyship was in a practical mood.

  'Listen,' says she. 'I am made acquainted that the tide has turned. Imean, you know, in the Straits of Magellan. The South-Sea stock thathas been falling so long will certainly rise in a week; the Elector isbuying secretly. Lady Mary has it from Mr. Pope, and he at the firstand best hands from Mr. Craggs, the secretary. Mr. Craggs will insertmy name in the next list and your money I shall send to the directorswith my own. You shall be rich, Strephon, on the level of yourmerits.'

  Mr. Kelly was very well content with his one speculation, but theevident joy with which Lady Oxford anticipated serving him was worthmore than his thousands.

  'My gold shall be in Smilinda's coffers the morning that I get back totown, 'he said.

  'You must go at once,' she exclaimed, 'we must lose no time. Stay. Iwill travel with you to-morrow morning if you will favour me with yourcompany'; and so a new flow of compliments carried the South Sea outof sight. But a minute or two later Mr. Kelly, chancing to look downat the hearth, said, quite inconsequently:

  'We must not forget to thank Lady Mary.'

  Smilinda followed the direction of his eyes, and saw that Lady Mary'sletter had tumbled out of the fire and now lay, half burnt, but theother half only curled up and scorched. She shivered as though she wascold, and the better to warm herself knelt down on the hearth-rug.Then she took up the letter (which Kelly must not see) and carelesslytossed it into the fire.

  'You know Lady Mary,' she said. 'Yes, you told me.'

  'I do, indeed,' said Kelly, with a smile.

  'I could wish you did not,' said her ladyship with a frown. Smilindamade it plain that she was jealous. Kelly laughed heartily at theassumption, which was in truth ridiculous enough.

  'Who am I,' said he, 'that I should attract Lady Mary's fancy,'

  'You are--my Strephon,' replied Smilinda, with a sigh of exquisitetenderness.

  Kelly argued the matter on other grounds. Smilinda listened to them
all.

  'I have no doubt you are right,' she said, with a meek resignation.'But I remember you spoke very warmly of the friendship you had forher, and ever since--' here she broke off shyly. 'A weak woman's emptyfears,' she continued,' but they keep her awake at nights. Well, shemust even make the best of them.'

  Smilinda lying awake at nights out of jealousy! There was a notion toconvict Mr. Kelly of slow murder. He was on his knees in a moment, andswore that for the future on earth and in Heaven he would avoid LadyMary's company as though she was the devil in person. It was aconfused sort of oath and deprived Mr. Kelly for a time of a very goodfriend; but on the other hand it undoubtedly raised a load from LadyOxford's anxieties.

  She left Brampton Bryan the next morning and travelled with Mr. Kellyup to London, where the coach set them down at the King's Head in theStrand. Kelly went straight from the King's Head to the goldsmith andhis money was carried to Queen's Square that same afternoon. It wouldseem, however, that Mr. Pope had been choused, for the market fellfrom little to nothing. But when the Bubble presently burst into air,Smilinda burst into tears, and Mr. Kelly was smitten to the heart forher distress.

  'I have ruined thee, my Strephon,' she sobbed. She had covered herface with her hands and the tears trickled through her fingers.

  'Love arms me against such ill-fortunes,' replied Kelly. 'It is onlySmilinda's tears that hurt. Each one of them falls upon Strephon'sheart like a drop of molten lead.'

  'Ah, Strephon,' she cried. 'Thou art ruined and Smilinda's haplesshand hath dealt the blow. The arrow came from her quiver,' she beingone of Dian's nymphs, you are to suppose.

  Then Mr. Kelly fell to comparing himself to Procris in the fable, whowas shot by her lover, and said that it was sweet to perish by herinadvertent shaft. It seems that kind of love-making has now gone outof date. But that was the humour of it when Kelly and Wogan wereyoung. Men and women, let them but fall in love, and they were allswains and nymphs, though they dabbled in the stocks and were ashard-headed as before and afterwards.

  'That odious Lady Mary,' exclaimed Smilinda. 'She was born to be mybane and curse. 'Twas her counsel that ruined my Strephon. My Strephonhas kept his oath?'

  Her Strephon had, but on the other hand, Mr. Wogan had sworn no oath,and would not have kept it if he had done so. He paid a visit to LadyMary soon after Kelly's return from Brampton Bryan. She asked him hisnews and gave him a budget of gossip in return.

  'And Lady Oxford has sold her diamonds!' she ended.

  Wogan asked how that came about, and she answered:

  'Lady Oxford was here at the bassette table three weeks since. Herstakes were ever inordinately high, and she lost to me all night. Shedrew a queen when she should have chose the knave, the knave wasSonica. "There go my diamonds," she said, and vowing she would punt nomore, went home in her chair. I could not see her or hear of her for alittle. I guessed that she had run away into the country until shecould wheedle enough money to pay me out of the dotard husband. So ata venture I wrote a polite letter to her, hoping that the country airwould restore her credit. Well, here she is back in London and herlosses paid. That means selling her diamonds.'

  Wogan laughed over Lady Oxford's straits and came home to the lodgingin Bury Street. Wogan's time was getting short and he must return toMorlaix. But, as has been said, he left Brittany in a hurry with verylittle money in his pocket, and what was left at his journey's end hehad since spent in London. So he said to the Parson:

  'George, my friend, I must dip into your winnings after all. For heream I with a couple of crowns,' he took them out and laid them on thetable. George flushed crimson.

  'Nick,' said he, 'you have two crowns more than I have.'

  Wogan turned away to the window and looked out into the street,bethinking him of what Lady Mary had told him.

  'Sure, Nick, it's the truth,' Kelly pleaded, entirely miscomprehendingWogan's action. 'I drew the money out of the Mississippi and sunk itin the South Sea. It's all gone. I have not two penny pieces to rubtogether until this day week, when my pension is paid. Nick, you'llbelieve that. Why, Nick, you would ha' been welcome to all that I had.But you know that. Sure you know it.'

  Wogan had no such mean thought as Kelly in his fluster attributed tohim. He turned back to the table.

  'So you are as poor as an Irish church mouse again, are you?' he saidwith a smile. 'Well, here's two crowns--one for me, one for you.'

  He pocketed one coin and pushed the other over to the Parson. TheParson took it up and turned it over blinking his eyes. For a momentthere was an awkward sort of silence. Wogan laughed; the Parson blewhis nose.

  'I hear,' said Wogan, 'that Lady Oxford has lost her diamonds.'

  Kelly looked up in perplexity.

  'Lost her diamonds!' said he. 'Why, she wore them last night!'

  'I thought the rumour was untrue,' said Wogan.

  Mr. Kelly slipped his crown into his pocket. There was no more saidabout the matter between them, though perhaps they clasped hands atparting with a trifle more than their ordinary heartiness.

  Mr. Wogan, however, told Lady Mary of the Parson's loss, and she wasat no pains to discover the explanation. Lady Oxford had paid LadyMary with the Parson's guineas. They had never been in the South SeaBubble.

  'I should like to send the money I won back to Mr. Kelly,' said LadyMary.

  'That's plainly impossible,' returned Wogan, and to this Lady Maryperforce agreed. '_Olet_,' the Latin-learned lady said, and Woganremarked, 'Certainly,' so she put the money aside, thinking that someday she might employ it on Mr. Kelly's behalf. That night Woganborrowed his travelling money from Mr. Carte, the historian, whom hemet at the Cocoa Tree, and so set out the next morning for Brittany.