CHAPTER XXXVII
REPARATION
It was in the middle of the afternoon when His Royal Highness, havingattended to other important affairs, and partaken of a hasty meal at theRoyal George, finally found leisure to look through the letters handedup to him by the Sergeant.
As he read one through, and then the other, Lord Lovat's letter urgingthe Earl of Stretton to join the rebellion, that of Kilmarnockupbraiding the lad for holding aloof, and finally the autograph ofCharles Edward himself at the end of a long string of reproaches,calling Philip a traitor for his loyalty to King George,--
"There has been a terrible blunder here!" quoth His Royal Highness,emphatically. "Bring the Earl of Stretton to me at once," he added,speaking to his orderly.
Ten minutes later Philip, with Patience by his side, was in the presenceof the Duke of Cumberland, who, on behalf of his country and itsgovernment, was tendering apologies to the Earl of Stretton for grievousblunders committed.
"It seems you have suffered unjustly, my lord," said His Highness, witheasy graciousness. "It will be my privilege to keep you under mypersonal protection until these letters have been placed before the Kingand Council."
"I myself will guarantee your brother's safety, Lady Patience," headded, turning with a genial smile to her; "you will entrust him to mycare, will you not? Your father and I were old friends, you know. Inmy young days I had the pleasure of staying at Stretton Hall, and theprivilege of dandling you on my knees, for you were quite a baby then.I little thought I should have the honour of being of service to you inlater years."
With courtly gallantry the Duke raised her cold finger-tips to his lips.He looked at her keenly, for he could not understand the almost deadlook of hopeless misery in her face which she bravely, but all in vain,tried to hide from him. Evidently she was quite unable to speak. Whenher brother had been brought before His Highness she had begged for andeasily obtained the favour of being present at the interview, but evenat the Duke's most genial and encouraging words she had not smiled.
"It was lucky," added His Royal Highness, kindly patting her hand, "thatso strange a Fate should have placed these letters in my hand."
But at these gentle, almost fatherly words, Patience's self-controlentirely gave way. With a heart-broken sob she threw herself at theDuke's feet.
"Nay! not Fate, your Royal Highness," she moaned, "but the devotion of abrave man, who has sacrificed his life to save my brother and me... Savehim, your Highness! ... save him! ... he is noble, brave, loyal, and youare powerful ... save him! ... save him!..."
It was impossible to listen unmoved to the heart-rending sorrowexpressed in this appeal. The Duke very gently raised her to her feet.
"Nay, fair lady ... I pray you rise," he said respectfully. "Odd's mylife! but 'tis not beauty's place to kneel.... There! there!" he added,leading her to a chair and sitting beside her, "you know how to plead acause; will you deign to confide somewhat more fully in your humbleservant? We owe your family some reparation at anyrate, and you somecompensation for the sorrow you have endured."
And speaking very low at first, then gradually gaining confidence,Patience began to relate the history of the past few days, thetreachery, of which she had been a victim, the heroic self-sacrifice ofthe man who was about to lay down his life because of his devotion toher and to her cause.
His Highness listened quietly and very attentively, whilst she, wrappedup in the bitter joy of memory, lived through these last brief and happydays all over again. Even before she had finished, he had sent word tothe Sergeant to bring both his other prisoners before him at once.
Sir Humphrey and Jack Bathurst were actually in the room before Patiencehad quite completed her narrative. Bathurst ill and pale, but with thatstrange air of aloofness still clinging about his whole person. Heseemed scarce to live, for his mind was far away in the land of dreams,dwelling on that last exquisite memory of his beautiful white rose lyingpassive in his arms, the memory of that first and last, divinelypassionate kiss.
The Duke looked up when the prisoners entered the room; although he knewneither of them by sight, he had no need to ask whose cause thebeautiful girl beside him had been pleading so earnestly.
"What do you wish to say, sir?" he said, addressing Sir HumphreyChalloner first. "You are no doubt aware of her ladyship's grievancesagainst you. They are outside my province, and unfortunately outsidethe province of our country's justice. But I would wish to know why youshould have pursued the Earl of Stretton and that gentleman, yourfellow-prisoner, with so much hatred and malice."
"I have neither hatred nor malice against the Earl of Stretton," repliedSir Humphrey, with a shrug of the shoulders, "but no doubt her ladyshipwould wish to arouse your Royal Highness's sympathy for a notoriousscoundrel. That gentleman is none other than Beau Brocade, the mostnoted footpad and most consummate thief that ever haunted BrassingMoor."
The Duke of Cumberland looked with some surprise, not altogether unmixedwith kindliness, at the slim, youthful figure of the most notorioushighwayman in England. He felt all a soldier's keen delight in theproud bearing of the man, the straight, clean limbs, the upright,gallant carriage of the head, which neither physical pain nor adversecircumstances had taught how to bend.
Then he remembered Lady Patience's enthusiastic narrative, and said,smiling indulgently,--
"Odd's my life! but I did not know gentlemen of the road were sochivalrous!"
"Your Royal Highness..." continued Sir Humphrey.
"Silence, sir!"
Then the Duke rose from his chair, and went up close to Bathurst, who,half-dreaming, had listened to all that was going on around him, but hadscarce heard, for he was looking at Patience and thinking only of her.
"Your name, sir?" asked the Duke very kindly, for the look of love akinto worship which illumined Jack Bathurst's face had made a strong appealto his own manly heart.
"Jack Bathurst," replied the young man, almost mechanically, and rousinghimself with an effort in response to the Duke's kind words, "formerlycaptain in the White Dragoons."
"Bathurst? ... Bathurst?" repeated the Duke, not a little puzzled. "Ah,yes!" he added after a slight pause, "who was condemned and cashieredfor striking his superior officer after a quarrel."
"The same, your Royal Highness."
"'Twas Colonel Otway, who, we found out afterwards, was a scoundrel, aliar, and a cheat," said His Highness with sudden eager enthusiasm, "andfully deserving the punishment you, sir, had been brave enough to givehim."
"Aye! he deserved all he got," replied Jack, with a wistful sigh andsmile, "I'll take my oath of that."
"But ... I remember now," continued the Duke, "a tardy reparation was tohave been offered you, sir ... but you were nowhere to be found."
"I'd become a scoundrel myself by then, and moneyless, friendless,disgraced, had taken to the road, like many another broken gentleman."
"Then take to the field now, man," exclaimed His Highness, gaily. "Wewant good soldiers and gallant gentlemen such as you, and your countrystill owes you reparation. You shall come with me, and in the gloriousfuture which I predict for you, England shall forget your past."
He extended a kindly hand to Bathurst, who, still dreaming, still notquite realising what had happened, instinctively bent the knee ingratitude.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE JOY OF RE-UNION
On the green outside, the crowd of village folk were shouting themselveshoarse,--
"Three cheers for the Duke of Cumberland!"
Already the news had gone the round that Beau Brocade, the highwayman,had been granted a special pardon by His Royal Highness.
John Stich, half crazy with joy, was tossing his cap in the air, and inthe fulness of his heart was stealing a few kisses from Mistress Betty'spretty mouth.
The appearance of Sir Humphrey Challoner in the porch of the RoyalGeorge, looking
as black as thunder and followed by his obsequiousfamiliar, Master Mittachip, was the signal for much merriment and somequickly-suppressed chaff.
"Stand aside, you fool!" quoth Sir Humphrey, pushing Jock Miggs roughlyout of his way.
"Nay, stand aside all of ye!" admonished John Stich, solemnly, "and mindif any of ye've got any turnips about ... be gy!..."
The Squire of Hartington raised his riding-crop menacingly.
"You dare!" he muttered.
But Mistress Betty interposed her pretty person 'twixt her lover and hisHonour's wrath.
"Saving your presence, sir," she said pertly, "my intent was only goingto tell the lads to keep their turnips for this old scarecrow."
And laughing all over her dimpled little face she pointed to MasterMittachip, who was clinging terrified to Sir Humphrey's coat-tails.
"Sir Humphrey..." he murmured anxiously, as Betty's sally was receivedwith a salvo of applause, "good Sir Humphrey ... do not let them harmme.... I've served you faithfully..."
"You've served me like a fool," quoth Sir Humphrey, savagely, shakinghimself free from the mealy-mouthed attorney. "Damn you," he added, ashe walked quickly out of the crowd and across the green, "don't yap atmy heels like a frightened cur."
"God speed your Honour," shouted Stich after him.
"Think you, John, he'll come to our wedding?" murmured Betty, saucily,at which honest John hugged her with all his might before the entirecompany.
"Be gy! I marvel if the old fox'll go to her ladyship's and theCaptain's wedding, eh?"
"Lordy! Lordy! these be 'mazing times," commented Jock Miggs, vaguely.
----
But within the small parlour of the Royal George all this noise andgaiety only came as a faint, merry echo.
His Royal Highness had gone, followed by the Sergeant and soldiers, andBathurst was alone with his beautiful white rose.
"And 'tis to you I owe my life," he whispered for the twentieth time, askneeling at her feet he buried his head in the folds of her gown.
"I have done so little," she murmured, "one poor prayer ... when you haddone so much."
"And now," he said, looking straight into the exquisite depths of herblue eyes, "now you have robbed me of one great happiness, which maynever come to me again."
"Robbed you? ... of happiness?..."
"The happiness of dying for you."
But she looked down at him, smiling now through a mist of happy tears.
"Nay, sir," she whispered, "and when the Duke has no longer need of you,will you not live ... for me?"
He folded her in his arms, and held her closely, very closely to hisstrong, brave heart.
"Always at your feet," he murmured passionately, "and as your humbleslave, my dream."
And as his lips sought hers once more, she whispered under her breath,--
"My husband!"
"My dream!--My wife!"
----
Outside the crowd of villagers were shouting lustily,--
"Three cheers for the Duke of Cumberland!"
UPCOTT GILL, LONDON AND COUNTYL,.PRINTING WORKS, DRURY LANE, W.C.
Beau Brocade: A Romance Page 36
