XI
HOW A LIE WAS MADE THE VERY TRUTH
For some small instant I dared not loose my eye-grip on the colonel, toglance aside at Falconnet, or Gilbert Stair, or at the woman closebeside me. If I had flinched or wavered, or let an eyelid droop but bythe thickness of a hair, this keen-eyed colonel would have been upon meto cut the ground beneath my feet and leave me dangling by the lie.
But as it was, I faced him down; and winning him, won all. There was amuttered oath from Falconnet, a tremulous cry of rage from where herfather stood; and then I sought my lady's eyes to read my sentence inthem.
She gave me but a glance, and though I tried as I had never tried beforeto read her meaning it was hid from me. But this I marked; that she diddraw aside from me, and that her face was cold and still, and that herlips were pressed together as if not all nor any should ever make herspeak again.
At this sharp crisis, when a look or word would cost me more than deathand my dear lady her honor, it was the colonel who, all unwittingly,stood my friend. A breath of doubt upon my lie and we were lost; andonce I thought he would have breathed it. But he did not. Instead, hebroke out in a laugh, with a gibe flung first at Gilbert Stair and thenat Falconnet.
"God save us! I give you joy, Mr. Stair, and you, Sir Francis. These twohave duped you bravely. By heavens! Sir Frank; 'twas you who should havehad the sword thrust in the duel. In that event you might have stood inCaptain Ireton's shoes, and so had the priest fetched for your benefit."Then he turned to Margery with a bow that had no touch of mockery in it."I crave your pardon, Madam; I knew not you were pleading for yourhusband's life an hour ago. It grieves me that I may not spare him toyou longer than the night, but war is cruel at its best."
She stood like any statue done in cold Carrara while he spoke; and whenshe made no sign he gave the word to recommit me.
"Take him away, Lieutenant Tybee, and see he has a bribe-proof man thistime to keep him company. Madam Ireton, I'll put you on your honor: youmay have access to him, but there must be no messages carried in or out.To your quarters, gentlemen. We must ride far and hard to-morrow."
When his final word had set her free, my frozen maiden came to life andran to throw herself in helpless sobbings, not upon her father, as youwould think, but upon the good priest. And it was Father Matthieu wholed her, still crying softly, out of the throng and up the low stair;and now I marked that all the rough soldiery stood aside and made wayfor her with never a man among them to scoff or sneer or point a gibe.
At her going, Tybee drew his sword and cut the cord that bound me.
"These youngling cubs are over-cautious, Captain Ireton. We shall notmake it harder for each other than we must," he said, with bluff goodnature. And then: "Will you lead the way to your room, sir?"--this togive the youngling cub another lesson, I suppose.
I walked beside him to the stair, and when I stumbled, being weak andspent, he took my arm and steadied me, and I did think it kindly done.At my own door he gave me precedence again, saying, with a touch of thegrateful Old World courtesy, "After you, sir," and standing aside to letme enter first. When we were both within he touched upon the colonel'smandate.
"I must obey my orders, Captain Ireton, but by your good leave I shallnot lock you up with any trooper; I'll stay with you myself."
I thought this still more kindly than aught he had done before, and so Itold him. But he put it off lightly.
"'Tis little enough any one can do for you, my friend, but I will dothat little as I can. You are like to have a visitor, I take it; if youhave, I'm sure 'twill be a comfort if your body-guard can be stoneblind and deaf."
So saying, he dragged the big wicker chair into the window-bay, plantedhimself deep within it with his back to all the room, and so left me tomy own devices.
Being spent enough to sleep beneath the shadow of a gibbet, I threwmyself full-length upon the bed and was, I think, adrift upon the ebbtide of exhaustion and forgetfulness when once again the shifting of thewooden door-bar roused me. I rose up quickly, but Tybee was before me.There was some low-voiced conference at the door; then Tybee came to me.
"'Tis Mr. Gilbert Stair," he said. "He has permission from the coloneland insists that he must see you _solus_. I'll take your word and leaveyou, if you like."
At first I hung reluctant, wanting little of the host who came so lateto see his guest. Then, as if a sudden flash of lightning had revealedit, I realized, as I had not before, how I had set the feet of my dearlady in a most hideous labyrinth of deception; how this lie that I hadtold to bridge a momentary gap must leave her neither maid nor widow inthe morning.
"Yes, yes; for God's sake let him in, Mr. Tybee!" I burst out. "I amfair crazed with weariness, and had forgot. 'Tis most important, I doassure you."
The thing was done at once, and before I knew it I was alone with theold man who, though he was my supplanter, was also Margery's father. Heentered cautiously, shielding his bedroom candle with his hand andpeering over it to make me out, as if his venturing in were notunperilous. And I marked that when he put the candle down upon thetable, he edged away and felt behind him for the door as if to make sureof his retreat in case of need.
"Sit down, Captain Ireton; sit down, I beg of you," he said, in histhin, rasping treble. And when I had obeyed: "I think you must know whatI've come for, Captain Ireton?"
I said I could guess; and he began again, volubly now, as if to have itover in the shortest space.
"'Twas not a gentlemanly thing for you to do, Captain Ireton--thismarrying of a foolish girl out of hand while you were here a guest; andas for the priest that did it, I--I'll have him hanged before the armyleaves, I promise you. But now 'tis done, I hope ye're prepared to makethe best of it?"
I saw at once that his daughter had not yet confided in him; that he wasstill entangled in my lie. So I thought it well to probe him deeperwhile I might.
"What would you call 'the best' if I may ask?" said I, growing thecooler with some better seeing of the way ahead.
"The marriage settlements!" he cried shrilly, coming to the point atonce, as any miser would. "'Tis the merest matter of form, as ye maysay, for your title to Appleby Hundred is well burnt out, I promise you.But for the decent look of it you might make over your quitclaim to yourwife."
"Aye, truly; so I might."
"And so you should, sir; that you should, ye miserable, spyingrunag"--he choked and coughed behind his hand and then began againwithout the epithets. "'Tis the very least ye can do for her now, whenyou have the rope fair around your curs--ahem--your--your rebel neck.Only for the form's sake, to be sure, ye understand, for she'd inheritafter you in any case."
I saw his drift at last, and, not caring to spare him, sped the shaft oftruth and let it find the joint in his harness.
"'Tis as you say, Mr. Stair. But as it chances, Mistress Margery is notmy wife."
If I had flung the candle at him where he stood fumbling behind him forthe door-latch,'twould not have made him shrink or dodge the more.
"Wha--what's that ye say?" he piped in shrillest cadence. "Not married?Then you--you--"
"I lied to save her honor--that was all. A wife might do the thing shedid and go scot free of any scandal; but not a maid, as you could seeand hear."
For some brief time it smote him speechless, and in the depth of hisastoundment he forgot his foolish fear of me and fell to pacing up anddown, though always with the table cannily between us. And as heshuffled back and forth the thin lips muttered foolish nothings, withhere and there a tremulous oath. When all was done he dropped into achair and stared across at me with leaden eyes; and truly he had thelook of one struck with a mortal sickness.
"I think--I think you owe me something now beyond your keeping, CaptainIreton," he quavered, at length, mumbling the words as do the palsied.
"Since you are Margery's father, I owe you anything a dying man canpay," said I.
"Words; empty words," he fumed. "If it were a thing to do, now--"
"You need but name t
he thing and I will do it willingly."
Instead of naming it he shot a question at me, driving it home withcertain random thrustings of the shifty eyes.
"Who is your next of kin, Captain Ireton?"
"Septimus, of the same name, master of Iretondene, on the James River,and a major in the Virginia line," I answered, wondering how my cousinonce removed should figure in the present coil. But Gilbert Stair's nextquestion dispelled the mystery.
"If you should die intestate, this Septimus would be your heir?"
"As next of kin, I should suppose he would. But I have nothing todevise."
"True; and yet"--he paused again as if the wording of it were not easy.
"Be free to speak your mind, Mr. Stair," said I.
"'Tis this," he cried, gathering himself as with an effort. "You'veclaimed my daughter as your wife before them all, and when you dieto-morrow morning you'll leave her neither wife nor maid. I think--Ithink you'd best make that lie of yours the truth."
If one of his thin hands that clutched the chair arms had pressed asecret spring and loosed a trap to send me gasping down an oubliette, Ishould have been the less astounded. Indeed, for some short space Ithought him mad; yet, on second thought, I saw the method in hismadness. Could Margery be brought to view it calmly, this was a sword tocut the knot of all entanglements.
As matters stood, the world would call her widow at my death; and sincea woman is first of all the keeper of her own good name, she would neverdare aver the truth. So in common justice she should own the name theworld would call her by. Again, as matters stood, no wrong could come ofit to her, or Richard Jennifer, or any. Dick would love her none theless because a dying man had given her his name for some few hours. Andif, at any future time, the Ireton title should revive and this poordouble-dealing miser should be forced to quit his hold on ApplebyHundred, my father's acres would be hers in her own right. One breach inall this sudden-builded wall I saw, but could not mend it. With theIreton acres hers by double right, the baronet would press his suit withgreater vigor than before. But as to this, no further act of mine couldhelp or hinder; and if I died her husband she would in decency delay awhile.
So summing up in far less time than it has cost to write it out for you,I gave my host his answer.
"I told you you might name the deed, and I would do it, Mr. Stair. Ifyou can make your daughter understand--"
"The jade will do as she is bid," he cut in wrathfully. "If she willdrag my good name in the mire, I'm damned if she sha'n't pay the scot.And now about the settlements, Captain Ireton; you'll be making herlegatee residuary?"
At this I saw his drift again, most clearly; that he would never sticklefor his daughter's honor, but for the quieting of his title to myfather's lands--a title that my cousin Septimus might dispute. It wasenough to set me obstinate against him; but I constrained myself tothink of Margery and Richard Jennifer, and not at all of this poor pettymiser.
"I'll sign a quitclaim in her favor, if that is what you mean," I said."But 'tis a mere pen-scratch for the lawyers to haggle over. As you saida while ago, the wife will be the husband's heir-at-law, in any event."
"True; but we'd best be at it in due and proper form." He rose andhobbled to the door and was so set upon haste that his shaking handplayed a rattling tattoo on the latch. "I--I'll go and have the papersdrawn, and you will sign them, Captain Ireton; I have your passed wordthat you will sign them?"
"Aye; they shall be signed."
He went away at that, and Tybee entered. Much to my comfort, thelieutenant asked no questions; so far from it, he crossed the roomwithout a word, flung himself into the great chair and left me to my owncommunings.
These were not altogether of assurance. Though I had promised readilyenough to make my lie a truth, I saw that all was yet contingent upon mylady's viewing of the proposal. That I could win her over I had somehope, if only they would leave the task for me. But there was room tofear that this poor miser father would make it all a thing of propertyand so provoke her to resistance. And, notwithstanding what hesaid--that she would do as she was bid--I thought I knew her temper wellenough to prophesy a hitch. For I made sure of one thing, that if sheput her will against the world, the world would never move her.
'Twas past midnight, with Tybee dozing in his chair, when next I heardsome stirrings in the corridor. As before, it was the lifting of thewooden bar that roused my friendly guard, and when he went to parley atthe door I stood apart and turned my back.
When I looked again my company was come. At the table, busied with aparchment that might have been a ducal title deed for size, stoodGilbert Stair and the factor-lawyer, Owen Pengarvin. A little back ofthem the good old Father Matthieu had Margery on his arm. And in thecorner Tybee stood to keep the door.
I grouped them all in one swift eye-sweep, and having listed them,strove to read some lessoning of my part in my dear lady's face. Shegave me nothing of encouragement, nor yet a cue of any kind to lead towhat it was that she would have me say or do. As I had seen it last,under the light of the flaring torches in the room below, her face wascold and still; and she was standing motionless beside the priest,looking straight at me, it seemed, with eyes that saw nothing.
It was the factor-lawyer who broke the silence, saying, with hispredetermined smirk, that the parchment was ready for my signature.Thinking it well beneath me to measure words with this knavishpettifogger, I looked beyond him and spoke to his master.
"I would have a word or two in private with your daughter before thismatter ripens further, Mr. Stair," I said.
My lady dropped the priest's arm and came to stand beside me in thewindow-bay. I offered her a chair but she refused to sit. There was solittle time to spare that I must needs begin without preliminary.
"What has your father told you, Margery?" I asked.
"He tells me nothing that I care to know."
"But he has told you what you must do?"
"Yes." She looked with eyes that saw me not.
"And you are here to do it of your own free will?"
"No."
"Yet it must be done."
"So he says, and so you say. But I had rather die."
"'Tis not a pleasing thing, I grant you, Margery; notwithstanding, ofour two evils it is by far the less. Bethink you a moment: 'tis but thesaying of a few words by the priest, and the bearing of my name for someshort while till you can change it for a better."
Her deep-welled eyes met mine, and in them was a flash of anger.
"Is that what marriage means to you, Captain Ireton?"
"No, truly. But we have no choice. 'Tis this, or I must leave you in themorning to worse things than the bearing of my name. I would it had notthus been thrust upon us, but I could see no other way."
"See what comes of tampering with the truth," she said, and I could seeher short lip curl with scorn. "Why should you lie and lie again, whenany one could see that it must come to this--or worse?"
"I saw it not," I said. "But had I stopped to look beyond the moment'sneed and seen the end from the beginning, I fear I should have lied yetother times. Your honor was at stake, dear lady."
"My honor!"--this in bitterest irony. "What is a woman's honor, sir,when you or any man has patched and sewed and sought to make it wholeagain? I will not say the word you'd have me say!"
"But you must say it, Margery. 'Tis but the merest form; you forget thatyou will be a wife only in name. I shall not live to make you rue it."
"You make me rue it now, beforehand. _Mon Dieu!_ is a woman but a thing,to stand before the priest and plight her troth for 'merest form'?You'll make me hate you while I live--and after!"
"You'd hate me worse, Margery dear, if I should leave you drowning inthis ditch. And I can bear your hatred for some few hours, knowing thatif I sinned and robbed you, I did make restitution as I could."
She heard me through with eyelids down and some fierce storm of passionshaking her. And when she answered her voice was low and soft; yet itcut me like a knife.
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"You drive me to it--listen, sir, _you drive me to it_! And I have saidthat I shall hate you for it. Come; 'tis but a mockery, as you say; andthey are waiting."
I sought to take her hand and lead her forth, but this she would notsuffer. She walked beside me, proud and cold and scornful; stood besideme while I sat and read the parchment over. It was no marriagesettlement; it was a will, drawn out in legal form. And in it Ibequeathed to Margery Ireton as her true jointure, not any claim ofmine to Appleby Hundred, _but the estate itself_.
I read it through as I have said, and, looking across to these twoplotters, the miser-master and his henchman, smiled as I had neverthought to smile again.
"So," said I; "the truth is out at last. I wondered if the confiscationact had left you wholly scatheless, Mr. Stair. Well, I am content. Ishall die the easier for knowing that I have lain a guest in my ownhouse. Give me the pen."
'Twas given quickly, and I signed the will, with Tybee and the lawyerfor the witnesses; Margery standing by the while and looking on; thoughnot, I made sure, with any realizing of the business matter.
When all was done the priest found his book, and we stood before him;the woman who had sworn to hate, and the man who, loving her to fullforgetfulness of death itself, must yet be cold and formal, masking hislove for her dear sake, and for the sake of loyalty to his friend. Andhere again 'twas Tybee and the lawyer who were the witnesses; the onewell hated, and the other loved if but for this; that when the time camefor the giving of the ring, he drew a gold band from his little fingerand made me take and use it.
And so that deed was done in some such sorry fashion as the time andplace constrained; and had you stood within the four walls of that upperroom you would have thought the chill of death had touched us, and thatthe low-voiced priest was shriving us the while we knelt to take hisbenediction. All through this farce--which was in truth the grimmest ofall tragedies--my lady played her part as one who walks in sleep; and atthe end she let her father lead her out with not a word or look or signto me.
You'd guess that I would take it hard--her leaving of me thus, as I madesure, for all eternity; and I did take it hard. For when the strain wasoff, and there was no one by to see or hear save my good-hearteddeath-watch, I must needs go down upon my knees beside the bed inchildish weakness, and sob and choke and let the hot tears come as I hadnot since at this same bedside I had knelt a little lad to take mymother's dying love.
The Master of Appleby Page 13
