The Lion's Skin

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER V. MOONSHINE

  My Lord Ostermore, though puzzled, entertained no tormenting anxietyon the score of the search to which Mr. Caryll was to be submitted. Heassured himself from that gentleman's confident, easy manner--being aman who always drew from things the inference that was obvious--thateither he carried no such letter as my lord expected, or else he had sodisposed of it as to baffle search.

  So, for the moment, he dismissed the subject from his mind. WithHortensia he entered the parlor across the stone-flagged passage, towhich the landlady ushered them, and turned whole-heartedly to thematter of his ward's elopement with his son.

  "Hortensia," said he, when they were alone. "You have been foolish; veryfoolish." He had a trick of repeating himself, conceiving, no doubt,that the commonplace achieves distinction by repetition.

  Hortensia sat in an arm-chair by the window, and sighed, looking outover the downs. "Do I not know it?" she cried, and the eyes which wereaverted from his lordship were charred with tears--tears of hot anger,shame and mortification. "God help all women!" she added bitterly, aftera moment, as many another woman under similar and worse circumstanceshas cried before and since.

  A more feeling man might have conceived that this was a moment in whichto leave her to herself and her own thoughts, and in that it is possiblethat a more feeling man had been mistaken. Ostermore, stolid andunimaginative, but not altogether without sympathy for his ward, of whomhe was reasonably fond--as fond, no doubt, as it was his capacity to befor any other than himself--approached her and set a plump hand upon theback of her chair.

  "What was it drove you to this?"

  She turned upon him almost fiercely. "My Lady Ostermore," she answeredhim.

  His lordship frowned, and his eyes shifted uneasily from her face. Inhis heart he disliked his wife excessively, disliked her because she wasthe one person in the world who governed him, who rode rough-shod overhis feelings and desires; because, perhaps, she was the mother of hisunfeeling, detestable son. She may not have been the only person livingto despise Lord Ostermore; but she was certainly the only one with thecourage to manifest her contempt, and that in no circumscribed terms.And yet, disliking her as he did, returning with interest her contemptof him, he veiled it, and was loyal to his termagant, never sufferinghimself to utter a complaint of her to others, never suffering others tocensure her within his hearing. This loyalty may have had its roots inpride--indeed, no other soil can be assigned to them--a pride that wouldallow no strangers to pry into the sore places of his being. He frownednow to hear Hortensia's angry mention of her ladyship's name; and if hisblue eyes moved uneasily under his beetling brows, it was because thesituation irked him. How should he stand as judge between MistressWinthrop--towards whom, as we have seen, he had a kindness--and hiswife, whom he hated, yet towards whom he would not be disloyal?

  He wished the subject dropped, since, did he ask the obviousquestion--in what my Lady Ostermore could have been the cause ofHortensia's flight--he would provoke, he knew, a storm of censure fromhis wife. Therefore he fell silent.

  Hortensia, however, felt that she had said too much not to say more.

  "Her ladyship has never failed to make me feel my position--my--mypoverty," she pursued. "There is no slight her ladyship has not put uponme, until not even your servants use me with the respect that is dueto my father's daughter. And my father," she added, with a reproachfulglance, "was your friend, my lord."

  He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, deploring now the question withwhich he had fired the train of feminine complaint. "Pish, pish!" hedeprecated, "'tis fancy, child--pure fancy!"

  "So her Ladyship would say, did you tax her with it. Yet your lordshipknows I am not fanciful in other things. Should I, then, be fanciful inthis?"

  "But what has her ladyship ever done, child?" he demanded, thinkingthus to baffle her--since he was acquainted with the subtlety of herladyship's methods.

  "A thousand things," replied Hortensia hotly, "and yet not one uponwhich I may fasten. 'Tis thus she works: by words, half-words, looks,sneers, shrugs, and sometimes foul abuse entirely disproportionate tothe little cause I may unwittingly have given."

  "Her ladyship is a little hot," the earl admitted, "but a good heart;'tis an excellent heart, Hortensia."

  "For hating-ay, my lord."

  "Nay, plague on't! That's womanish in you. 'Pon honor it is! Womanish!"

  "What else would you have a woman? Mannish and raffish, like my LadyOstermore?"

  "I'll not listen to you," he said. "Ye're not just, Hortensia. Ye'reheated; heated! I'll not listen to you. Besides, when all is said, whatreasons be these for the folly ye've committed?"

  "Reasons?" she echoed scornfully. "Reasons and to spare! Her ladyshiphas made my life so hard, has so shamed and crushed me, put suchindignities upon me, that existence grew unbearable under your roof. Itcould not continue, my lord," she pursued, rising under the sway of herindignation. "It could not continue. I am not of the stuff that goesto making martyrs. I am weak, and--and--as your lordship hassaid--womanish."

  "Indeed, you talk a deal," said his lordship peevishly. But she did notheed the sarcasm.

  "Lord Rotherby," she continued, "offered me the means to escape. Heurged me to elope with him. His reason was that you would never consentto our marriage; but that if we took the matter into our hands, and weremarried first, we might depend upon your sanction afterwards; that youhad too great a kindness for me to withhold your pardon. I was weak, mylord--womanish," (she threw the word at him again) "and it happened--Godhelp me for a fool!--that I thought I loved Lord Rotherby. And so--andso--"

  She sat down again, weakly, miserably, averting her face that she mighthide her tears. He was touched, and he even went so far as to showsomething of his sympathy. He approached her again, and laid a benignhand lightly upon her shoulder.

  "But--but--in that case--Oh, the damned villain!--why this mock-parson?"

  "Does your lordship not perceive? Must I die of shame? Do you not see?"

  "See? No!" He was thoughtful a second; then repeated, "No!"

  "I understood," she informed him, a smile--a cruelly bittersmile--lifting and steadying the corner of her lately quivering lip,"when he alluded to your lordship's straitened circumstances. He has nodisinheritance to fear because he has no inheritance to look for beyondthe entail, of which you cannot disinherit him. My Lord Rotherby sets ahigh value upon himself. He may--I do not know--he may have been inlove with me--though not as I know love, which is all sacrifice, allself-denial. But by his lights he may have cared for me; he must havedone, by his lights. Had I been a lady of fortune, not a doubt but hewould have made me his wife; as it was, he must aim at a more profitablemarriage, and meanwhile, to gratify his love for me--base as it was--hewould--he would--O God! I cannot say it. You understand, my lord."

  My lord swore strenuously. "There is a punishment for such a crime asthis."

  "Ay, my lord--and a way to avoid punishment for a gentleman in yourson's position, even did I flaunt my shame in some vain endeavor to havejustice--a thing he knew I never could have done."

  My lord swore again. "He shall be punished," he declared emphatically.

  "No doubt. God will see to that," she said, a world of faith in herquivering voice.

  My lord's eyes expressed his doubt of divine intervention. He preferredto speak for himself. "I'll disown the dog. He shall not enter my houseagain. You shall not be reminded of what has happened here. Gad! Youwere shrewd to have smoked his motives so!" he cried in a burst ofadmiration for her insight. "Gad, child! Shouldst have been a lawyer! Alawyer!"

  "If it had not been for Mr. Caryll--" she began, but to what else shesaid he lent no ear, being suddenly brought back to his fears at themention of that gentleman's name.

  "Mr. Caryll! Save us! What is keeping him?" he cried. "Can they--canthey--"

  The door opened, and Mr. Caryll walked in, ushered by the hostess. Bothturned to confront him, Hortensia's eyes swollen from her weeping.

 
"Well?" quoth his lordship. "Did they find nothing?"

  Mr. Caryll advanced with the easy, graceful carriage that was one of hismain charms, his clothes so skilfully restored by Leduc that none couldhave guessed the severity of the examination they had undergone.

  "Since I am here, and alone, your lordship may conclude such to be thecase. Mr. Green is preparing for departure. He is very abject;very chap-fallen. I am almost sorry for Mr. Green. I am by naturesympathetic. I have promised to make my complaint to my Lord Carteret.And so, I trust there is an end to a tiresome matter."

  "But then, sir?" quoth his lordship. "But then--are you the bearer of noletter?"

  Mr. Caryll shot a swift glance over his shoulder at the door. Hedeliberately winked at the earl. "Did your lordship expect letters?"he inquired. "That was scarcely reason enough to suppose me a courier.There is some mistake, I imagine."

  Between the wink and the words his lordship was bewildered.

  Mr. Caryll turned to the lady, bowing. Then he waved a hand over thedowns. "A fine view," said he airily, and she stared at him. "I shalltreasure sweet memories of Maidstone." Her stare grew stonier. Didhe mean the landscape or some other matter? His tone was difficult toread--a feature peculiar to his tone.

  "Not so shall I, sir," she made answer. "I shall never think of it otherthan with burning cheeks--unless it be with gratitude to your shrewdnesswhich saved me."

  "No more, I beg. It is a matter painful to you to dwell on. Let meexhort you to forget it. I have already done so."

  "That is a sweet courtesy in you."

  "I am compounded of sweet courtesy," he informed her modestly.

  His lordship spoke of departure, renewing his offer to carry Mr. Caryllto town in his chaise. Meanwhile, Mr. Caryll was behaving curiously. Hewas tiptoeing towards the door, along the wall, where he was out of linewith the keyhole. He reached it suddenly, and abruptly pulled it open.There was a squeal, and Mr. Green rolled forward into the room. Mr.Caryll kicked him out again before he could rise, and called Leducto throw him outside. And that was the last they saw of Mr. Green atMaidstone.

  They set out soon afterwards, Mr. Caryll travelling in his lordship'schaise, and Leduc following in his master's.

  It was an hour or so after candle-lighting time when they reachedCroydon, the country lying all white under a full moon that sailed ina clear, calm sky. His lordship swore that he would go no farther thatnight. The travelling fatigued him; indeed, for the last few milesof the journey he had been dozing in his corner of the carriage,conversation having long since been abandoned as too great an efforton so bad a road, which shook and jolted them beyond endurance. Hislordship's chaise was of an old-fashioned pattern, and the springsfar from what might have been desired or expected in a nobleman'sconveyance.

  They alighted at the "Bells." His lordship bespoke supper, invited Mr.Caryll to join them, and, what time the meal was preparing, went into anoisy doze in the parlor's best chair.

  Mistress Winthrop sauntered out into the garden. The calm and fragranceof the night invited her. Alone with her thoughts, she paced the lawn awhile, until her solitude was disturbed by the advent of Mr. Caryll. He,too, had need to think, and he had come out into the peace of the nightto indulge his need. Seeing her, he made as if to withdraw again; butshe perceived him, and called him to her side. He went most readily. Yetwhen he stood before her in an attitude of courteous deference, she wasat a loss what she should say to him, or, rather, what words she shouldemploy. At last, with a half-laugh of nervousness, "I am by nature veryinquisitive, sir," she prefaced.

  "I had already judged you to be an exceptional woman," Mr. Caryllcommented softly.

  She mused an instant. "Are you never serious?" she asked him.

  "Is it worth while?" he counter-questioned, and, whether intent oraccident, he let her see something of himself. "Is it even amusing--tobe serious?"

  "Is there in life nothing but amusement?"

  "Oh, yes--but nothing so vital. I speak with knowledge. The gift oflaughter has been my salvation."

  "From what, sir?"

  "Ah--who shall say that? My history and my rearing have been such thathad I bowed before them, I had become the most gloomy, melancholy manthat steps this gloomy, melancholy world. By now I might have foundexistence insupportable, and so--who knows? I might have set a term toit. But I had the wisdom to prefer laughter. Humanity is a delectablespectacle if we but have the gift to observe it in a dispassionatespirit. Such a gift have I cultivated. The squirming of the human wormis interesting to observe, and the practice of observing it has thisadvantage, that while we observe it we forget to squirm ourselves."

  "The bitterness of your words belies their purport."

  He shrugged and smiled. "But proves my contention. That I might explainmyself, you made me for a moment serious, set me squirming in my turn."

  She moved a little, and he fell into step beside her. A little whilethere was silence.

  Presently--"You find me, no doubt, as amusing as any other of your humanworms," said she.

  "God forbid!" he answered soberly.

  She laughed. "You make an exception in my case, then. That is a subtleflattery!"

  "Have I not said that I had judged you to be an exceptional woman?"

  "Exceptionally foolish, not a doubt."

  "Exceptionally beautiful; exceptionally admirable," he corrected.

  "A clumsy compliment, devoid of wit!"

  "When we grow truthful, it may be forgiven us if we fall short of wit."

  "That were an argument in favor of avoiding truth."

  "Were it necessary," said he. "For truth is seldom so intrusive as toneed avoiding. But we are straying. There was a score upon whichyou were inquisitive, you said; from which I take it that you soughtknowledge at my hands. Pray seek it; I am a well, of knowledge."

  "I desired to know--Nay, but I have asked you already. I desired to knowdid you deem me a very pitiful little fool?"

  They had reached the privet hedge, and turned. They paused now beforeresuming their walk. He paused, also, before replying. Then:

  "I should judge you wise in most things," he answered slowly,critically. "But in the matter to which I owe the blessing of havingserved you, I do not think you wise. Did you--do you love LordRotherby?"

  "What if so?"

  "After what you have learned, I should account you still less wise."

  "You are impertinent, sir," she reproved him.

  "Nay, most pertinent. Did you not ask me to sit in judgment upon thismatter? And unless you confess to me, how am I to absolve you?"

  "I did not crave your absolution. You take too much upon yourself."

  "So said Lord Rotherby. You seem to have something in common when all issaid."

  She bit her lip in chagrin. They paced in silence to the lawn's end, andturned again. Then: "You treat me like a fool," she reproved him.

  "How is that possible, when, already I think I love you."

  She started from him, and stared at him for a long moment. "You insultme!" she cried angrily, conceiving that she understood his mind. "Doyou think that because I may have committed a folly I have forfeited allclaim to be respected--that I am a subject for insolent speeches?"

  "You are illogical," said Mr. Caryll, the imperturbable. "I have toldyou that I love you. Should I insult the woman I have said I love?"

  "You love me?" She looked at him, her face very white in the whitemoonlight, her lips parted, a kindling anger in her eyes. "Are you mad?"

  "I a'n't sure. There have been moments when I have almost feared it.This is not one of them."

  "You wish me to think you serious?" She laughed a thought stridently inher indignation. "I have known you just four hours," said she.

  "Precisely the time I think I have loved you."

  "You think?" she echoed scornfully. "Oh, you make that reservation! Youare not quite sure?"

  "Can we be sure of anything?" he deprecated.

  "Of some things," she answered icily. "And I am sure of
one--that I ambeginning to understand you."

  "I envy you. Since that is so, help me--of your charity!--to understandmyself."

  "Then understand yourself for an impudent, fleering coxcomb," she flungat him, and turned to leave him.

  "That is not explanation," said Mr. Caryll thoughtfully. "It is mereabuse."

  "What else do you deserve?" she asked him over her shoulder. "That youshould have dared!" she withered him.

  "To love you quite so suddenly?" he inquired, and misquoted: "'Whoeverloved at all, that loved not at first sight?' Hortensia!"

  "You have not the right to my name, sir."

  "Yet I offer you the right to mine," he answered, with humble reproach.

  "You shall be punished," she promised him, and in high dudgeon left him.

  "Punished? Oh, cruel! Can you then be--

  "'Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee? Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, For proffered love will love repay."'

  But she was gone. He looked up at the moon, and took it into hisconfidence to reproach it. "'Twas your white face beglamored me,"he told it aloud. "See, how execrable a beginning I've made, and,therefore, how excellent!" And he laughed, but entirely without mirth.

  He remained pacing in the moonlight, very thoughtful, and, for once,it seemed, not at all amused. His life appeared to be tangling itselfbeyond unravelling, and his vaunted habit of laughter scarce served atpresent to show him the way out.