St. George and St. Michael

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER LIII.

  FAITHFUL FOES.

  Hearing Upstill's shot, and then Dick's hoofs on the sward, Richardfortunately judged well and took the right direction. What was hisastonishment and delight when, passing hurriedly through the hedge inthe expectation of encountering a cavalier, he saw Dorothy mounted onDick! What form but hers had been filling soul and brain when he wasstartled by the shot! And there she was before him! He felt like one whoknows the moon is weaving a dream in his brain.

  'Dorothy,' he murmured tremblingly, and his voice sounded to him likethat of some one speaking far away. He drew nearer, as one mightapproach a beloved ghost, anxious not to scare her. He laid his hand onDick's neck, half fearful of finding him but a shadow.

  'Richard!' said Dorothy, looking down on him benignant as Diana uponEndymion.

  Then suddenly, at her voice and the assurance of her bodily presence, agreat wave from the ocean of duty broke thunderous on the shore of hisconsciousness.

  'Dorothy, I am bound to question thee,' he said: 'whence comest thou?and whither art thou bound?'

  'If I should refuse to answer thee, Richard?' returned Dorothy with asmile.

  'Then must I take thee to headquarters. And bethink thee, Dorothy, howthat would cut me to the heart.'

  The moon shone full upon his face, and Dorothy saw the end of a greatscar that came from under his hat down on to his forehead.

  'Then will I answer thee, Richard,' she said, with a strange tremblingin her voice. '--I come from Raglan.'

  'And whither art going, Dorothy?'

  'To Wyfern.'

  'On what business?'

  'Were it then so wonderful, Richard, if I should desire to be at home,seeing Wyfern is now safer than Raglan? It was for safety I wentthither, thou knowest.'

  'It might not be wonderful in another, Dorothy, but in thee it weretruly wonderful; for now are they of Raglan thy friends, and thou art abrave woman, and lovest thy friends. I would not believe it of thee evenfrom the mouth of thy mother. Confess--thou bearest about thee that thouwouldst not willingly show me.'

  Dorothy, as if in embarrassment, drew from her pocket her handkerchief,and with it a comb, which fell on the ground.

  'Prithee, Richard, pick me up my comb,' she said; then, answering hisquestion, continued, '--No, I have nothing about me I would not showthee, Richard: wilt thou take my word for it?'

  When she had spoken, she held out her hand, and receiving from him thecomb, replaced it in her pocket. But a keen pang of remorse went throughher heart.

  'I am a man under authority,' said Richard, 'and my orders will notallow me. Besides thou knowest, Dorothy, although it involves suchquestions in casuistry as I cannot meet, men say thou art not bound totell the truth to thine enemy.'

  'An' thou be mine enemy, Richard, then must thou satisfy thyself,' saidDorothy, trying to speak in a tone of offence. But while she sat therelooking at him, it seemed as if her heart were floating on the top of agreat wave out somewhere in the moonlight. Yet the conscience-dog wasawake in his kennel.

  Richard stood for a moment in silent perplexity.

  'Wilt thou swear to me, Dorothy,' he said at length, 'that thou hast nopapers about thee, neither art the bearer of news or request or sign toany of the king's party?'

  'Richard,' returned Dorothy, 'thou hast thyself taken from my words thecredit: I say to thee again, satisfy thyself.'

  'Dorothy, what AM I to do?' he cried.

  'Thy duty, Richard,' she answered.

  'My duty is to search thee,' he said.

  Dorothy was silent. Her heart was beating terribly, but she would seethe end of the path she had taken ere she would think of turning. Andshe WOULD trust Richard. Would she then have him fail of his duty? Wouldshe have the straight-going Richard swerve? Even in the face of hermaidenly fears, she would encounter anything rather than Richard shouldfor her sake be false. But Richard would not turn aside. Neither wouldhe shame her. He would find some way.

  'Do then thy duty, Richard,' she said, and sliding from her saddle, shestood before him, one hand grasping Dick's mane.

  There was no defiance in her tone. She was but submitting, assured ofdeliverance.

  What was Richard to do? Never man was more perplexed. He dared not lether pass. He dared no more touch her than if she had been Luna herselfstanding there. He would not had he dared, and yet he must. She wassilent, seemed to herself cruel, and began bitterly to accuse herself.She saw his hazel eyes slowly darken, then began to glitter--was it withgathering tears? The glitter grew and overflowed. The man was weeping!The tenderness of their common childhood rushed back upon her in a greatwave out of the past, ran into the rising billow of present passion, andswelled it up till it towered and broke; she threw her arm round hisneck and kissed him. He stood in a dumb ecstasy. Then terror lest heshould think she was tempting him to brave his conscience overpoweredher.

  'Richard, do thy duty. Regard not me,' she cried in anguish.

  Richard gave a strange laugh as he answered,

  'There was a time when I had doubted the sun in heaven as soon as thyword, Dorothy. This is surely an evil time. Tell me, yea or nay, hastthou missives to the king or any of his people? Palter not with me.'

  But such an appeal was what Dorothy would least willingly encounter. Thenecessity yet difficulty of escaping it stimulated the wits that hadbeen overclouded by feeling. A light appeared. She broke into a realmerry laugh.

  'What a pair of fools we are, Richard!' she said. 'Is there never anhonest woman of thy persuasion near--one who would show me no favour?Let such an one search me, and tell thee the truth.'

  'Doubtless,' answered Richard, laughing very differently now at hisstupidity, yet immediately committing a blunder: 'there is mother Rees!'

  'What a baby thou art, Richard!' rejoined Dorothy. 'She is as good afriend of mine as of thine, and would doubtless favour the wiles of awoman.'

  'True, true! Thou wast always the keener of wit, Dorothy--as becometh awoman. What say'st thou then to dame Upstill? She is even now at thefarm there, whence she watches over her husband while he watches overRaglan. Will she answer thy turn?'

  'She will,' replied Dorothy. 'And that she may show me no favour, herecomes her husband, who shall bear a witness against me shall rouse inher all the malice of vengeance for her injured spouse, whom for hisevil language, as thou shalt see, I have so silenced as neither thou norany man can restore him to speech.'

  While she spoke, Upstill, who had followed his enemy as the sole hope ofdeliverance, drew near, in such plight as the dignity of narrativerefuses to describe.

  'Upstill,' said Richard, 'what meaneth this? Wherefore hast thou leftthy post? And above all, wherefore hast thou permitted this lady to passunquestioned?'

  Sounds of gurgle and strangulation, with other cognate noises, was allUpstill's response.

  'Indeed, Mr. Heywood,' said Dorothy, 'he was so far from neglecting hisduty and allowing me to pass unquestioned, that he insulted megrievously, averring that I consorted with malignant rogues and papists,and worse--the which drove me to punish him as thou seest.'

  'Cast-down Upstill, thou hast shamed thy regiment, carrying thyself thusto a gentlewoman,' said Richard.

  'Then he fired his carbine after me,' said Dorothy.

  'That may have been but his duty,' returned Richard.

  'And worst of all,' continued Dorothy, 'he said that had he known what Ishould grow to, he would never have made shoes for me when I was aninfant. Think on that, master Heywood!'

  'Ask the lady to pardon thee, Upstill. I can do nothing for thee,' saidRichard.

  Upstill would have knelt, in lack of other mode of petition strongenough to express the fervour of his desires for release, but Dorothywas content to see him punished, and would not see him degraded.

  'Nay, master Upstill,' she said, 'I desire not that thou shouldst takethe measure of my foot to-night. Prithee, master Heywood, wilt thouventure thy fingers in the godly man's mouth for me? Here is the key ofthe toy, a suck
et which will pass neither teeth nor throat. I warrantthee it were no evil thing for many a married woman to possess. I willgive it thee when thou marriest, master Heywood, though, good sooth, itwere hardly fair to my kind!'

  So saying she took a ring from her finger, raised from it a key, anddirected Richard how to find its hole in the plum.

  'There! Follow us now to the farm, and find thy wife, for we need heraid,' said Richard as he drew by the key the little steel instrumentfrom Upstill's mouth, and restored him to the general body of thearticulate.

  Thereupon he took Dick by the bridle, and Dorothy and he walked side byside, as if they had been still boy and girl as of old--for of old italready seemed.

  As they went, Richard washed both plum and ring in the dewy grass, andrestored them, putting the ring upon her finger.

  'With better light I will one day show thee how the thing worketh,' shesaid, thanking him. 'Holding it thus by the ends, thou seest, it willbear to be pressed; but remove thy finger and thumb, and straight upon atouch it shooteth its stings in all directions. And yet another day,when these troubles are over, and honest folk need no longer fight eachother, I will give it thee, Richard.'

  'Would that day were here, Dorothy! But what can honest people do, whileSt. George and St. Michael are themselves at odds?'

  'Mayhap it but seemeth so, and they but dispute across the Yule-log,'said Dorothy; 'and men down here, like the dogs about the fire, take itup, and fall a-worrying each other. But the end will crown all.'

  'Discrown some, I fear,' said Richard to himself.

  As they reached the farm-house, it was growing light. Upstill fetchedhis dame from her bed in the hayloft, and Richard told her, in formaland authoritative manner, what he required of her.

  'I will search her!' answered the dame from between her closed teeth.

  'Mistress Vaughan,' said Richard, 'if she offer thee evil words, giveher the same lesson thou gavest her husband. If all tales be true, sheis not beyond the need of it.--Search her well, mistress Upstill, butshow her no rudeness, for she hath the power to avenge it in a parlousmanner, having gone to school to my lord Herbert of Raglan. Not the lessmust thou search her well, else will I look upon thee as no better thanone of the malignants.'

  The woman cast a glance of something very like hate, but mingled withfear, upon Dorothy.

  'I like not the business, captain Heywood,' she said.

  'Yet the business must be done, mistress Upstill. And hark'ee, for everypaper thou findest upon her, I will give thee its weight in gold. I carenot what it is. Bring it hither, and the dame's butter-scales withal.'

  'I warrant thee, captain!' she returned. '--Come with me, mistress, andshow what thou hast about thee. But, good sooth, I would the sun wereup!'

  She led the way to the rick-yard, and round towards the sunrise. It wasthe month of August, and several new ricks already stood facing theeast, yellow, and beginning to glow like a second dawn. Between the two,mistress Upstill began her search, which she made more thorough thanagreeable. Dorothy submitted without complaint.

  At last, as she was giving up the quest in despair, her eyes or herfingers discovered a little opening inside the prisoner's bodice, andthere sure enough was a pocket, and in the pocket a slip of paper! Shedrew it out in triumph.

  'That is nothing,' said Dorothy: 'give it me.' And with flushed face shemade a snatch at it.

  'Holy Mary!' cried dame Upstill, whose protestantism was of doubtfuldate, and thrust the paper into her own bosom.

  'That paper hath nothing to do with state affairs, I protest,'expostulated Dorothy. 'I will give thee ten times its weight in gold forit.'

  But mistress Upstill had other passions besides avarice, and was notgreatly tempted by the offer. She took Dorothy by the arm, and said,

  'An' thou come not quickly, I will cry that all the parish shall hearme.'

  'I tell thee, mistress Upstill, on the oath of a Christian woman, it isbut a private letter of mine own, and beareth nothing upon affairs.Prithee read a word or two, and satisfy thyself.'

  'Nay, mistress, truly I will pry into no secrets that belong not to me,'said the searcher, who could read no word of writing or print either.'This paper is no longer thine, and mine it never was. It belongeth tothe high court of parliament, and goeth straight to captainHeywood--whom I will inform concerning the bribe wherewith thou didstseek to corrupt the conscience of a godly woman.'

  Dorothy saw there was no help, and yielded to the grasp of the dame, wholed her like a culprit, with burning cheek, back to her judge.

  When Richard saw them his heart sank within him.

  'What hast thou found?' he asked gruffly.

  'I have found that which young mistress here would have had me coverwith a bribe of ten times that your honour promised me for it,' answeredthe woman. 'She had it in her bosom, hid in a pocket little bigger thana crown-piece, inside her bodice.'

  'Ha, mistress Dorothy! is this true?' asked Richard, turning on her aface of distress.

  'It is true,' answered Dorothy, with downcast eyes--far more ashamedhowever, of that which had not been discovered, and which might havejustified Richard's look, than of that which he now held in his hand.'Prithee,' she added, 'do not read it till I am gone.'

  'That may hardly be,' returned Richard, almost sullenly. 'Upon thispaper it may depend whether thou go at all.'

  'Believe me, Richard, it hath no importance,' she said, and her blushesdeepened. 'I would thou wouldst believe me.'

  But as she said it, her conscience smote her.

  Richard returned no answer, neither did he open the paper, but stoodwith his eyes fixed on the ground.

  Dorothy meantime strove to quiet her conscience, saying to herself: 'Itmatters not; I must marry him one day--an' he will now have me. Hath notthe woman told him where the silly paper was hid? And when I am marriedto him, then will I tell him all, and doubtless he will forgive me--Nay,nay, I must tell him first, for he might not then wish to have me. Lord!Lord! what a time of lying it is! Sure for myself I am no better thanone of the wicked!'

  But now Richard, slowly, reluctantly, with eyes averted, opened thepaper, stood for an instant motionless, then suddenly raised it, andlooked at it. His face changed at once from midnight to morning, and thesunrise was red. He put the paper to his lips, and thrust it inside hisdoublet. It was his own letter to her by Marquis! She had not thought toremove it from the place where she had carried it ever since receivingit.

  'And now, master Heywood, I may go where I will?' said Dorothy,venturing a half-roguish, but wholly shamefaced glance at him.

  But Dame Upstill was looking on, and Richard therefore brought as muchof the midnight as would obey orders, back over his countenance as heanswered:

  'Nay, mistress. An' we had found aught upon thee of greater consequenceit might have made a question. But this hardly accounts for thy mission.Doubtless thou bearest thy message in thy mind.'

  'What! thou wilt not let me go to Wyfern, to my own house, masterHeywood?' said Dorothy in a tone of disappointment, for her heart now atlength began to fail her.

  'Not until Raglan is ours,' answered Richard. 'Then shalt thou go wherethou wilt. And go where thou wilt, there will I follow thee, Dorothy.'

  From the last clause of this speech he diverted mistress Upstill'sattention by throwing her a gold noble, an indignity which the womanrightly resented--but stooped for the money!

  'Go tell thy husband that I wait him here,' he said.

  'Thou shalt follow me nowhither,' said Dorothy, angrily. 'Whereforeshould not I go to Wyfern and there abide? Thou canst there watch herwhom thou trustest not.'

  'Who can tell what manner of person might not creep to Wyfern, to whomthere might messages be given, or whom thou mightest send, credenced bysecret word or sign?'

  'Whither, then, am I to go?' asked Dorothy, with dignity.

  'Alas, Dorothy!' answered Richard, 'there is no help: I must take theeto Raglan. But comfort thyself--soon shalt thou go where thou wilt.'

&nbs
p; Dorothy marvelled at her own resignation the while she rode with Richardback to the castle. Her scheme was a failure, but through no fault, andshe could bear anything with composure except blame.

  A word from Richard to colonel Morgan was sufficient. A messenger with aflag of truce was sent instantly to the castle, and the firing on bothsides ceased. The messenger returned, the gate was opened, and Dorothyre-entered, defeated, but bringing her secrets back with her.

  'Tit for tat,' said the marquis when she had recounted her adventures.'Thou and the roundhead are well matched. There is no avoiding of it,cousin! It is your fate, as clear as if your two horoscopes had run intoone. Mind thee, hearts are older than crowns, and love outlives all butleasing.'

  'All but leasing!' repeated Dorothy to herself, and the BUT was bitter.