The Highwayman Read online

  CHAPTER II

  THE HOUSE OF WAVERTON

  Mr. Waverton had an idea in his head. That was not the least unusual. Itwas, unhappily, a wrong one. That was not unusual either. We must have atrifle of Latin. Mr. Waverton, studying Horace, desired to translate,_Civium ardor prava jubentium_ "the wicked ardour of the overbearingcitizens." In vain Harry urged that he was outraging grammar. Mr.Waverton did not believe him, did not want to believe him--the samething. Mr. Waverton was convinced that he had an insight into the soul ofHorace which Harry's pedantic eyes could not share. He explained, as oneexplains to a dull child, the rare poetic beauty of the sentiment whichhe had produced. The hero whom Horace was celebrating, you know, was theman superior to the common herd. Now common men (as even Harry might beaware) are all overbearing. It is this quality in the vulgar which mostdistresses fine souls (like Mr. Waverton) who desire nothing but theirjust rights.

  "I dare say it is," Harry yawned. "If Horace had wanted to mean that, hewould have said so."

  "I often think, Harry, you dry scholars have no sense for the thought ofa poet," said Mr. Waverton elegantly, and lay back in his chair andsurveyed Harry.

  He was a handsome lad and knew how to set it off. He had height andbulk--almost too much of that indeed, and so made light of it by acareless, lounging ease. At this time he was only twenty-two, but of aprecocious maturity. He had the self-possession--as well as thefull-bottomed wig--of experience and worldly wisdom, and would have likedto hear you say so. In its dark aquiline style his face was finelymoulded and imposing, and already it had a massive gravity. "A mightygrand fellow indeed," said Lady Dorchester once, "if only his mouth hadgrown since he was a baby." It has to be admitted that Mr. Waverton'smouth, a small, pretty feature, was oddly assorted with the haughtymanner in which the rest of him was constructed. The ladies who lamentedthat were, for the most part, consoled by his eyes--large, dark eyes of aliquid melancholy. But my Lord Wharton complained that they looked at himlike a hound's.

  Mr. Waverton was an only son, and fatherless. He had also greatpossessions. From his house of Tetherdown all the fields that he couldsee stretching away to the Essex border were of his inheritance. Hismother was no wiser than she should have been. She consisted spirituallyof admiration for herself, for the family into which she had married, andthe son whom she had borne. "After all," said Harry Boyce in moments ofgeniality, "it's wonderful the boy has come out of it so well."

  Mr. Waverton, thanks to vacillation of himself and his mother, doubt asto what career, what manner of education, what university, could beworthy his talents, went up to Oxford at last and (for those days) verylate. After doing nothing for another year or two, he decided (which wasalso unusual for a gentleman of means in those days) that he had a geniusin pure literature. Therefore Harry was hired to decorate him with allthe elegances of Greek and Latin.

  The appointment was considered a great prize for a lad so awkward asHarry Boyce. It might well end in a luxurious competence--a stewardship,for example, and marriage with my lady's maid. "That is, if you play yourcards well, sirrah," the Sub-Warden felt it his duty to warn Harry'sdifficult temper.

  "Oh, sir, I could never play cards," said Harry, for the Sub-Warden was amaster at picquet. "I am too honest."

  Yet he had not fallen out with Mr. Waverton. It is probable that he wascareful to keep on good terms with his bread and butter. But he hadalways, I believe, a kindness for Geoffrey Waverton, and bore no ill willfor his parade of supremacy. Tyranny in small things, indeed, Mr.Waverton did not affect. He had a desire to be magnificent. Those who didnot cross him, those who were content to be his inferiors, found himamiable enough and, on occasion, generous....

  "Shall we try another line, Mr. Waverton?" said Harry wearily.

  "I have a mind to make an epigram," Mr. Waverton announced. "Thearrogance of the vulgar, the--the uninstructed--perhaps I lack the _motjuste_, but _quand meme_--the mansuetude of the loftier mind. A fineantithesis that, I think." He stood up, walked to the window, and lookedout. Away down the hill the fields lay in a mellow mist, the kindlyautumn sun made the copses glow golden; it was a benign scene, apt toencourage wit. Mr. Waverton lisped in numbers, but the numbers did notcome. He turned to seek stimulus from Harry. "You relish the thought?"

  "It is a perfect subject for your style," said Harry.

  Mr. Waverton smiled, and turned again to the window for productivemeditation.

  A third man came lounging in, unheard by Mr. Waverton's rapt mind. Heopened his eyes at the back which Mr. Waverton turned upon Harry and thespace between them. "Why, Geoffrey, have you been very stupid thismorning? And has schoolmaster stood you in the corner? Well done, Mr.Boyce. I always told you, spare the rod and spoil the child. Shall I gocut a birch for you?"

  "I wonder you are not tired of that old jest, Charles," said Wavertonwith a dignity which did not permit him to turn round.

  "Never while it annoys you, child."

  "Mr. Waverton is in labour with a poem," Harry explained.

  "And it's indecent in me to be present at the ceremony? Well, Geoffrey,postpone the birth." He sat himself down at his ease in Geoffrey's chair.He was a compact man with only one arm. He looked ten years older thanGeoffrey and was, in fact, five. The campaign in Flanders which haddestroyed his right arm had set and hardened a frame and face by naturesolid enough. That face was long and angular, with a heavy chin and anexpression of sardonic complacency oddly increased by the jauntiness ofits shabby brown wig.

  Waverton turned round wearily upon the unwelcome guest. "Well, Charles,what is it?"

  "It is nothing. My dear Geoffrey, if I had anything to do or anything tosay why should I come to you?"

  "_Merci_, monsieur," Waverton smiled gracious indulgence.

  Mr. Hadley chuckled, and in French replied: "Yes, let's talk French; itembellishes our simple wit and elevates our souls above the vulgar."

  There is reason to believe that Waverton liked his French better infragments than continuously. He still smiled condescension, but risked noother answer.

  "Come, Geoffrey, what's the news?" Mr. Hadley reverted to English."Could you say your lessons this morning? And did you wear a new coatlast night?"

  "You may go if you will, Harry. Mr. Hadley will be talking for sometime," Waverton said. "Indeed, he may, perhaps, have something to say."

  Harry was used to being turned out for any reason or none. He wellunderstood that Waverton was not fond of an audience when he was beinglaughed at. "If you please," he said, and made his bow to Mr. Hadley.

  "Why, what's the matter? I don't bite. You are too meek for this life,Mr. Boyce." He looked at Harry with some contempt in his grey eyes."Oons, you're a man and a brother, ain't you? Sit down and be hearty.Lud, Geoffrey, why do you never have a pipe in the room?"

  "It's death to a clean taste, your tobacco smoking, and I value my wine."

  "Value it, quotha! Ay, by the spoonful. You ha' never known how to drinksince they weaned you. And you, Mr. Boyce, d'ye never smoke a pipe overyour Latin?"

  "I hope I know my place, Mr. Hadley," Harry said solemnly.

  Charles Hadley stared at him. "Hear the Scripture, Mr. Boyce: 'What shallit profit a man though he gain a pretty patron and lose his own soul?'"

  "You are very polite, sir," said Harry.

  "Upon my honour, Charles, this is too much," Mr. Waverton cried in nobleindignation. "Mr. Boyce is my friend, and you'll be good enough to takehim as yours if you come to my house."

  Charles Hadley was not out of countenance. He eyed them both, and hissardonic expression was more marked. "You make a pretty pair," said he."When two men ride a horse, one must ride behind. Eh, Mr. Boyce? Iwonder. Well, Geoffrey, it's a wicked world. Had you heard of that?"

  "The world is what you make it, I think," said Mr. Waverton withdignity.

  "Oons, I could sometimes believe you did make it. A simple, pompousplace, Geoffrey, that is kind to you if you'll not laugh at it. And fullof petty, pompous mysteries. Maybe you make the mysteri
es too, Geoffrey.Damme, it is so. It's perfectly in your manner," he chuckled abundantly."Come, child, what were you doing on the highway yesterday?"

  Harry stared at him. "When you have finished laughing at your joke,perhaps you will make it," said Waverton. "Pray let us have it overbefore dinner."

  "My dear child, why be so touchy? Were you bitten? Well, you know, thismorning one of my fellows brings in a miserable wretch he had found onthe road by Black Horse Spinney. The thing was half-dead with wet andcold. He had been lying there all night--so he said, and it's the onething I believe of him. He was found trussed as tight as a chicken in hisown sword-belt and his own garters. Damme, it was a fellow of some humourhad the handling of him. He had not been robbed, for there was a bag ofmoney at his middle. He professed that he could tell nothing of who hadtrussed him or why he was set upon. He would have nought of law or hueand cry. Egad, empty and shivering as he was, he wanted nothing but to belet go. A perfect Christian, as you remark, Geoffrey. Now, you or I, ifwe had been tied up in the mud through one of these damned raw nights,would take some pains to catch the fellow who did the trussing. But mywretch was as meek as the Gospels. So here is a silly, teasing mystery.Who is the footpad that is at the pains of tying up a fellow and neverlooks for his purse? Odds fish, I did not know we had a gentleman of suchhumour in these parts. I suspect you, Geoffrey, I protest. There's amisty fatuousness about it which--"

  "By your leave, sir," a servant appeared, "my lady waits dinner."

  "Then I fear we shall pay for it," said Hadley, and stood up.

  "You dine with us, Charles?" Mr. Waverton was not hearty about it.

  "I'll give you that pleasure, child. Well, Mr. Boyce, what do you make ofmy mystery?"

  Harry had to say something. "Perhaps your friend was carrying more thanguineas," he said.

  "What then? Papers and plots and the high political? I don't think it. Ifyou saw him--a mere tub of beer--and a leaky tub this morning, for he hada vile cold in the head and dribbled damnably."

  "I give it up then. Have you let him go?" They were moving out in thecorridor and Hadley did not answer. "Is he gone?" Harry said again.

  Hadley turned round upon him. "Why, yes. Does it signify?"

  "I wonder who he was," said Harry.

  Upon that they entered the drawing-room of Lady Waverton. It wascongested and dim. The two oriel windows were so draped with curtains ofpink and yellow that only a faint light as of the last of a sunsetfiltered through. The wide spaces were beset with screens in lacquer,odd chairs, Dutch tables, and very many cabinets,--cabinets inlaid withflowers and birds of many colours; cabinets full of shells, agates,corals, and any gaudy stone; cabinets and yet again more cabinets full ofEastern china. In the midst Lady Waverton reclined.

  She had been handsome in a large, bold style, and might still have beenbut for excessive decoration. Her dress was voluminous white satinembroidered in a big pattern of gold and set off with black. It was lowat her opulent bosom, to the curves of which the eye was directed byblack patches craftily fixed. There were many more patches on her facewhich, still only a little too full and too loose, had its colours laidon in sharp and vivid contrasts. Her black hair was erected insymmetrical waves high above her brow, and one ringlet was brought byglossy, frozen curls to caress her bosom. She held out the whitest ofhands drooping from a large but still fine arm for Mr. Hadley to kiss.

  "You are a bad fellow, Charles Hadley," she pouted. "You make mefeel old."

  "There's a common childish fancy, ma'am."

  "You never come to see me now. And when you do come, 'tis not to see me."

  "A thousand pardons. Mr. Boyce delayed me awhile with the beauties of hisconversation."

  "Mr. Boyce?" she looked at Harry as if wondering that he dared exist. "Goand see why they do not bring in dinner."

  Having thus diminished Harry, she proceeded, without waiting for him tobe gone, to criticize him. "You know, I would never have a chaplain inthe house. This tutor fellow is of the same breed, Charles. They teaseme, these men which are neither gentlemen nor servants. Faith, life'shard for the poor wretches. They are torn 'twixt their conceit and theirpoverty. They know not from minute to minute whether they will fawn or beinsolent. So they do both indifferent ill."

  Harry, who chose not to hear, was opening the door. There came in uponhim a woman--the young woman of the coach. Even as he recoiled, bowing,even as he collected his startled wits, he was aware of the singularbeauty of her complexion. Its delicacy, its life, were nonpareil. Thefirst clear process of his mind was to wonder how he had contrived not toremark that complexion when first he saw her.

  Lady Waverton lifted up her voice. "Alison! Dear child! And are you homeat last? It's delicious in you. You seek us out first, do you not? Mysweet girl!" Alison was engulfed. Conceive apple blossom in the embracesof a peony.

  The apple blossom emerged with a calm, "Dear Lady Waverton."

  "You are a sad bad thing. I writ you five letters, I think, and not onefrom you."

  "You are so much cleverer than I am. I had nothing to say." Alison'svoice was sweet and low, but too sublimely calm for perfect comfort inher hearers. "So here I am to say it and make my excuses," she droppeda small curtsey, "my lady. Why, Geoffrey, I thought you had been backat Oxford!"

  Mr. Waverton came forward, smiling magnificence. "I am delighted todisappoint you, Alison."

  "Nay, never believe her, Geoffrey," Lady Waverton lifted up her voiceand was arch. "I vow she counted on finding you here. Why else had shecome? I know when I was a toast I wasted none of my time going to see oldwomen," she languished affectionately at the girl.

  "Dear Lady Waverton,"--if it was possible, Alison's voice became calmerthan ever--"how well you know me. And how cruel to expose me. If Geoffreyhad his mother's wit, faith, I should never dare come here at all."

  "It is not my wit which you need ever fear, Alison," Geoffrey's eyes wereardent upon her.

  "Why, you are merciful. Or is it modest?"

  "I can be neither, Alison. I am a man."

  "My dear Geoffrey, I am sorry for all your misfortunes." She turned fromhim to Mr. Hadley, who was content in a corner. "Have we quarrelled?"

  "We never loved each other well enough."

  "Is that why I am always very glad to see Mr. Hadley?"

  "It is why he can tell Miss Lambourne that she looks divinely beautiful."

  "That means inhuman, sir."

  "Which is not my fault, ma'am."

  Geoffrey was visibly restive at his exclusion, "Charles never could pay acompliment without a sting in it."

  "That is why they are agreeable, sir," said she.

  "That is why they are true," said Hadley in the same breath, and theylaughed together.

  Lady Waverton interfered imperiously. "Alison, dear, come sit by me andtell me all about yourself."

  "Faith, not with the gentlemen to listen," said she, and was saved byHarry and the butler, who came in together announcing dinner.

  Lady Waverton rose elaborately. "Give me your arm, Charles. Mydear Alison--"

  "But who is this?" Alison said, and she stared with placid, candidinterest at Harry. With equal composure Harry stared back. But there wasno candour in his expressionless face. For he had become keenly aware ofher beauty. It was waking in him desire and already something deeper andstronger, and he vehemently resented the disturbance. He had no wish tobe troubled by any woman, and for this woman, judging her on herbehaviour, he felt even a little more contempt than the store which hehad for all her sex. It was cursedly impertinent in her to be such a joyto the blood. She stood there, her eyes level with his eyes, and dared tolook as strong as he--slighter to be sure, but not too slight for awoman, and delectably deep bosomed. There was life and laughter in thatcalm Greek face, and the vivid, delicate colour of it maddened him. Thegreat crown of black hair was just what her brow needed for its royalty.He could find no fault in the irksome wench. Even her dress, dark grey asher eyes, perfectly became her, perfectly pleased in its gene
rousmodesty. And she knew of her power too. There was a mocking confidence inevery line of her.

  "But who is this, Lady Waverton?" she was saying again.

  Lady Waverton tried to draw her on. "'Tis but Geoffrey's new factotum."

  "My good friend, Harry Boyce, Alison," said Geoffrey with a patronly handon Harry's shoulder.

  Harry made his bow.

  "Faith, sir, we have met before," she smiled.

  "No, ma'am," Harry bowed again. "I have never had an honour, which, sure,I could not forget."

  Her brow wrinkled. Lady Waverton swept her on, and Harry in the rear hadthe pleasure of hearing Lady Waverton say: "A poor, vulgar wretch, mydear. An out-at-elbows scholar which Geoffrey met at Oxford and keeps outof charity. He is too soft of heart, dear boy, and such creatures stickto him like burrs."

  The dinner-table was a blaze of silver, but otherwise not bountifullyprovided. Lady Waverton looked down it with pride. "I am of Mr. Addison'smind, my dear," she announced. "Do you remember? 'Two plain dishes withtwo good-natured, cheerful, ingenious friends make me more pleased andvain than all your luxury.'"

  "Why, then, you must now be sore out of countenance," Alison protested."For I am not good-natured and I vow Mr. Hadley is not cheerful." Mr.Hadley's face, set in contemplation of the food, shed gloom andapprehension. "But perhaps Mr. Boyce is ingenious."

  "I hope so," said Hadley.

  It was Harry's task to carve, which dispensed him from answering thegirl or even looking at her. One not abundant fowl and a calf's headsmoked before him. Under a heavy fire of directions from Lady Wavertonhe did his duty.

  Miss Lambourne may have suddenly grown weary of Lady Waverton's eloquenceupon the daintiest bits of these unexciting foods. She may have beenwaiting for the moment when Harry would have no occupation to prevent himlistening to her. While my lady was still explaining the superiority ofher calf, as bred and born in the house of Waverton, to all other calves,just when Harry had finished his work, Miss Lambourne broke out: "Faith,I was almost forgetting my splendid story. I wonder, now, have any of youmet any ventures on the North Road?"

  Harry began to eat. Charles Hadley ceased an anxious examination of hisplate and looked at her. Lady Waverton cried out: "Dear Alison! Don'ttell me you have been stopped. Too terrible! I vow I could never bear it.I should die of shame. They tell me these rogues are vilely impudent to afine woman."

  Geoffrey exhibited a tender agitation. "Why, Alison, what is it? Zounds,I cannot have you go travelling alone! You must give me news when youmake a journey, and I'll ride with you."

  "Thank you for your agonies. But the virgin in distress found herknight-errant duly provided. He rose out of the mud romantically apropos.To be sure, I think he was mad. But that is all in the part. The completehero. Geoffrey, could you be a little mad?"

  "More than a little," said he with proper ardour. "Pray don't torture us,Alison. Let us hear."

  "It's on my mind that I am going to hear news of my funny friend," saidHadley solemnly. "Don't you think so, Mr. Boyce?"

  Harry, who had been eating with the humble zeal appropriate to a poorscholar, looked up for a moment: "Why, sir, I can't tell at all. If yousay so, indeed--" and he went on eating.

  "Come, are you in it too, Mr. Hadley?" Alison cried.

  "In it, odds life, I am bewilderingly out of it," quoth Hadley, and againtold his tale of the mysterious man found tied up in the mud who knewnothing of his assailants and wanted no vengeance on them.

  "That's our Benjamin," Alison laughed. "Oh, but you did not let him go?"

  "Not let him go, quotha! For what I know, he was a poor, sufferingmartyr, though to look at his nose, I doubt it. And yet he was foolenough. Nay, how could I stay him?"

  "Why, send him to gaol for a rogue and a vagabond. Should he not?" sheinvited the suffrages of the table.

  "Dear Alison, to be sure, yes," Lady Waverton murmured. "These fellowsmust be put down."

  "You owed it to yourself to look deeper into the matter, Charles," saidGeoffrey gravely.

  "Come, Mr. Boyce, your sentence too," Alison cried, wicked eyesintent upon him.

  He met them with bland meekness. "Indeed, ma'am, I can't tell. It's Mr.Hadley's affair."

  "From a virtuous woman, good Lord deliver us," Hadley groaned. "You wouldmake a rare hanging judge, Alison. Now, i' God's name, let's have yourtale. What's the rogue to you?"

  "Oh, sir, a great joy. Why, he gave me the only knight-errant ever I had.A vile muddy one, to be sure, but poor maids must not be choosers. Wewere driving home, Mrs. Weston and I, and by Black Horse Spinney we werestopped by two highwaymen. They had just begun to be rude, when out ofthe mud comes my knight-errant, bold as Don Quixote and as shabby withal,and with a pretty wit too--which is not much in the way ofknight-errants, I think. He scared the highwaymen's horses and set thembolting with the one fellow which held them, then he knocked the otherdown, took his pistol, and tied the rogue up in his own garters. Oh, theneatest knight-errant ever you saw. Then we bade him put the fellow onthe box and drive on with us. But monsieur was haughty, if you please. Hewanted none of our company. Off he packed us, for me to cry my eyes outfor love of him. Which I do heartily, I warrant you."

  "Alison!" Geoffrey cried, and laid his hand on hers.

  "Faith, yes, give me sympathy. I have loved and lost--in the mud. To besure, I can ne'er be my own woman again till I find him and give him--abrush, I think, and maybe a pair of breeches too, for his own can neverrecover their youth. Dear Geoffrey, help me to find him."

  Geoffrey had taken his hand away in a hurry. He contemplated her withcold reproof. It did not trouble her. She was giving all her attention toHarry; gay, malicious eyes challenged him to declare himself, mocked himfor his modesty, vaunted what she had to give.

  "Damme, this is madder and madder yet," Hadley broke in. "Who is yourOrlando Furioso that's a champion of dames and too haughty to ride intheir carriage; that ties up highwaymen and forgets to tell the constablewhere he left 'em? Odso, I thought I knew most of the fools in theseparts, but there's one bigger than I know."

  "Dear Alison--I could never have survived it--but you are so strong--andwhat a person! My dear, I could not bear to think of him. A rude, lowfellow, to be sure," Thus Lady Waverton coherently.

  Alison laughed. "I doubt I'm not so delicate," Then she leaned towardsHarry. "Well, and you? Come, Mr. Boyce, why leave yourself out?"

  "I beg pardon, ma'am?"

  She made an impatient sound. "And what do you think of my hero?"

  "I wonder who the gentleman was, ma'am," Harry said.

  Her eyes fought a moment more with his bland, meaningless face. "Faith, Ithink he's a fool for his pains," said she.

  "Grateful woman," Hadley grunted. "Humph. _Spretae injuria formae_, ain'tit, Mr. Boyce? Give miss a construe."

  Harry gave a deprecating cough instead.

  "Oh, be brave, sir," she jeered.

  "I am afraid it means 'the insult of slighting your beauty,' ma'am," saidHarry meekly.

  Lady Waverton straightened her back and looked ice at him. But thebutler was at her elbow, whispering. "Colonel Boyce?" she repeated. "WhatColonel Boyce? Who is Colonel Boyce?

  "It might be my father," Harry suggested.

  "Why, Harry, I never knew you had a father," Waverton sneered amiably.

  "Is your father a colonel?" Lady Waverton was torn between incredulity ofsuch presumption and rage at it.

  "Not that I know of, my lady. But he has always surprised me."

  "Shall we have him in, Geoffrey?" said Lady Waverton.

  "My dear mother!" Geoffrey waved his hand to the butler. "Ask thegentleman to be so good as to join us."

  Mr. Hadley turned in his chair, and over the remnants of the fowl and thecalf's head directed a grim smile at Harry. "Thank you for a verypleasant dinner," said he.