Galloping Dick/Chapter 3
Of the Lady’s Chamber; of how I tres-
passed and of how I was so
oddly entertained
Chapter III
Of the Lady’s Chamber; of how I tres-
passed and of how I was so
oddly entertained
For the pother that fell in the “Blue Boar,” I was myself much in default. I had little business, indeed, to be there at all, and specially at that time; for the place was in ill-favour with the officers, who were used to skip in and skip out as familiar as pigeons in a dovecote. But most of all was I to blame for hobanobbing with Old Irons, as notorious for cribs as he was upon the road, through whose foul-mouthed folly by this double disadvantage the misadventure came about. I take shame on myself to have kept his company for more than the exchange of a civil greeting, for I never could away with a shabby trade like his. But the fact was I was rolling on a full tide of liquor, having that evening made Town from Winchester, with a heavy lining to my pockets, and being buckled up, pretty lively, upon the way to Polly. ’Twas Old Irons that caught me at the “Blue Boar,” where we sat cracking our bottles and gibbering away in a maudlin sort of fashion for the better side of two hours. Old Irons was fair set in wine, and must needs come at last to bragging at the pitch of his voice; swearing his was a smarter blade, and calling upon me in loud oaths to try his mettle; and then, as if this were too little, falling upon me and beslobbering me with affection, styling me his brother-in-arms, and vowing in the next breath that all upon the High Toby save himself were dirty devils, and fit for nothing but to pimp about a boiling-house. You may suppose this stuff was hardly to my taste for all the wine that I had drunk, nor was the landlord any easier, I could see, from the frightened glances he threw at us.
“Damme,” says I at length, “close up, you man of mouth; or you’ll find us warming the inside of the Jug.”
And with that, and ere I had a notion, the trick was done, the traps were on us, and there was the landlord, wringing his hands and crying out that ever this shame was come upon his house.
There was never a wickeder sinner than Old Irons inside Christendom, or outside for that matter, and I’d warrant his white hairs against the best of Bow Street wits. He stood astaring, and then began to cackle in a friendly, drunken way. But I waited for no more, and flinging off the paws from my shoulder, whipped out my sword, and went right through ’em. The poor cullies scattered like a crowd of sparrows, and I was forth of the door and away, with Old Irons shouting foul oaths behind, and a pack of the catchpoles on my heels. I slapped through the streets at a rare pace, for I am swift on my pegs, but the traps were no cripples neither, and kept close on my tail; and presently it came across me that if I could not make for my proper quarters, I was like this time to run myself out. And on the top of this, being now got into the rear parts of Golden Square, I found myself all on a sudden rattling up a blind alley, with one of the dogs near upon me, and nothing but a hedge of walls upon either side. And what does I do then, but without more consideration and on the sudden suggestion, scramble into an open window of a house that overhung the alley.
I was fair mad with myself to have been put to this ignominy, and all for a beggarly crew that I could ha’ driven with a bean-pole; and gently pulling to the casement, I cursed Old Irons for a daft, racket-pated old scoundrel. But just then there was an interruption on my thoughts in a little frightened cry that came from the interior of the room. This made me turn, for the Lord knew into what further mischief I had fallen. The room was in darkness save for one feeble light that was in the back part. And here, to my exceeding surprise, I perceived that I was come into a bed-chamber. But no sooner were my eyes on the bed itself and the disarray of the coverlets, than they fell next upon a second discovery, still more deranging. For there, cowering in a corner and wrapped in an elegant sort of nightrail, was a young miss, hiding her face, and all ashiver from terror. This took me off my fury forthright, for I was not the man to scarify a woman so, save now and then in the common course of business. Moreover, I was also at the moment mightily disconcerted myself with the traps outside, and so without more ado I stepped further into the room, and, “Madam,” says I, very courteously, “I would ask your pardon upon this trespass, but I am in a sweat for liberty, and I will swear but I mean no harm by you.”
“Who are you?” she asked in a trembling voice, and getting the clothes about her more warmly.
“Why,” says I promptly, blowing away like a grampus, “I am a poor rebel against His Majesty, who is like to be taken and done for at the hands of an accursed Law.”
“You will be killed?” she said.
I nodded. “Dead as mutton,” I answered.
“Upon the scaffold?” she whispers, looking very startled.
“You may call it that,” says I.
“Oh!” she cries, drawing in her breath and regarding me very pitifully.
“Come, now,” said I, finding there was little time to be exchanged upon these ceremonies, with the mongrels baying below. “Come, now, there is no manner of hurt in an honest rebel against his King, and if you will but serve me by a generous silence, I will e’en pick my way forth of your house by the proper gates, as comfortable as a footboy.” There came some voices at that instant from without in the alley, whereat she gave a gasp.
“Oh! they must not take you,” she said eagerly. “You must be hid.”
“Faith,” I replied, “I do not ask a privilege so far, but if I may have the space of your walls for passage I will make my own meat at the end, if needs be.”
“No, no!” she said, seeming bewildered, “they will be clamouring at the door.”
Now this was likely enough, as I guessed, but what course else was before me, with none but a girl’s petticoats ’twixt me and Newgate, I was at a loss to conceive; and as for that, there was not even petticoats, as it seemed, in the case.
“Well, what am I to do?” says I, laughing.
“I will help you,” says she quickly: “I am thinking.”
Now this piece of consideration in a young miss that might well have run out of her senses on my appearance, and screamed down the house on me, gave me a mighty tender feeling; but I said nothing at the moment, seeing she was involved in thought.
Then: “You will see, sir,” she began in a timid way, “that I am in a case of some embarrassment”
“Gad!” said I, interrupting, for I could see the confusion of her face, and I had clean forgot she was so bare, “I disremembered you wore no clothes. I will go,” I says.
“No, no!” she protested, making a sudden step out of her corner as though to stop me. “But” and here again she fell ashamed and was covered with blushes. As yet I had seen little of the girl’s viznomy, she being obscured in the shadows, but at this forward motion the light was flung upon her, and I vow she was a pretty wench enough. I should not ha’ minded to buss her there and then, but seeing she was in such a taking, and had used me so kindly, I made shift to ease her delicacy.
“Hark’ee, miss,” says I, “I will secure myself within the further room there, and you shall clap the doors upon me as tight as you will.”
But: “No!” says she again, and in a hasty manner: “’Tis my sister-in-law’s room,” says she.
“Faith!” said I, laughing, “I am come into a regular plague of sleeping chambers. But if I must needs, then, keep the room, sink me! but we will have the light out, young madam.”
And then: “No,” again says she, looking at me rather frightened.
“Oh, well,” says I in some impatience, “if you will not trust me so far, in God’s name do not trust me at all; and I will take my way out of the window again, with thanks.”
“Nay, nay!” she said, for that touched her heart. “But I will trust you, sir. If you will but turn your back upon me, in sooth, I shall be ready ere you may count fifty.”
“And so be it, and the Lord bless your pretty face,” said I, tickled with the child. Whereat I whisked about and stared out of the window into the night; and then for a humorous whim, I fell on counting the figures aloud, and as I did so, could hear behind me the noise as of a mouse rustling among garments. But presently, peering forth of the casement, I thought I discerned a man upon the further side of the alley, watching me, and with that I dropped quiet and drew back a bit. And thus it was that falling into oblivion of my delicate position, and the bargain with Miss, I was suddenly startled by the opening of a door behind me, and a new voice upon the silence; and jumping round I put my hand to my sword.
It was ill-done, being against my compact, but I had the excuse of my hazard, and I think she did not remember it against me in the odd event that succeeded. For there was my Miss, half-dressed, and showing the white round of her shoulders, fallen back upon the bed with a very pale face; while over against the doorway was the newcomer, who first started herself, then stared, and finally broke into a rippling fit of laughter, which was very merry to hear.
“Fie! fie!” says she, “and you so young and milk-faced, sister. O you baggage!” says she, laughing.
Miss was now all ablush from being white, and seemed mightily confused; but seeing how the matter stood I stepped up myself, and says I bluntly, “I’ll swear, madam,” says I, “that she’s a vestal for me.”
“O Gad!” she cries, laughing louder, “you kill me, sure. I warrant you make my ribs ache. Nay, good sir, pray protest away. Lard, I like you for it. ’Sbud, but ’tis an easy costume, and I have tried it myself.”
But there Miss gets upon her legs again, with her rail clutched to her throat, and, “You mistake,” she says in a low tone, and all confusion, “I—this gentleman”
“Slidikins, you chuck, don’t deny it,” cries t’other. “Faith, I would not go back upon an honest amour for all the jewels of London. Oh, what a sly hussy; and you all fresh from the country!”
This was gone too far for me, seeing Miss there so embarrassed with her colour, and so I spoke out very civil and very plain.
“Indeed, madam,” said I, “you do us injustice in your suspicion, me in my presumption, and the lady in her modesty. I’ll dare swear, if she have a lover, ’tis not I.”
Once more she went off laughing. “You ply a brave tongue,” she says. “How it wags about! Well, what is’t? Lard, give me a pretty lie, and I’ll forgive you.”
“This gentleman is a rebel,” says Miss eagerly.
“A rebel!” cried she sharply, and looks me up and down.
“And being beset of the King’s officers has took refuge here by an inadvertence,” I put in, bowing.
She surveyed me with deliberation, and then smiled. “Foy!” she said, “’tis a likely sort of rebel. And you would make my house your covert. Why, the times is topsy-turvy when we have rebels in a bed-chamber. Well, Mr Rebel,” she said, “sure, you have a fine way with you. And a good tall fellow for the crows!” and she looked at me again. But meeting her eyes, somehow, for the life of me I could not refrain from going off into laughter on the same instant as herself. After which she gave me a roguish glance, and “So,” said she, “you have brought the law to besiege my doors. Well?”
I put my hand to my heart. “Madam,” said I, “I have of an accident put Miss here to the blush, and you to trouble. I think shame on myself, but ’twas not of purpose or proposal; and if you will allow me I will here take my leave.”
“Lard!” she cries, making an eye at me, “you are in haste to be quit of us. Sure, since you please Cynthia, we must do our best for you,” and then, tapping Miss upon the cheek, “Fie, sis!” she says, laughing, “you have excellent taste, you gixie, you. I shall yet make a woman of you.”
But Miss drew back with a gesture, and looking all pink and warm like a peony-flower. “Oh, your ladyship is cruel,” she broke out with tears, “you deride me and you shame me.” T’other did nothing but giggle, being now taken in a further fit, and there was me standing stupidly, hat in hand, minding nothing to say, and vexed out of patience with this silly clutter. And in truth what would have come of it all I cannot say, but at that juncture a great rapping upon the outer doors sounded through the house.
“They are here,” cried Miss suddenly, started out of her tears. “Oh, sister.”
“Foh!” says her ladyship, “and indeed they may knock at my doors.”
“You must open to them, madam,” said I, “they are on the King’s warrant.”
She stamped her foot, and looked imperious; then frowning, encountered my gaze dubiously. “You think ’tis necessary?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Madam,” I says, “I am mad to be overmuch in your way, and I crave your pardon. Let me remove”
“O foh!” cried she lightly, “an’ if we must, well we must. His Majesty has no manners. I’ll warrant we find a way to pass you off. ’Tis a pity to peril the blood of so handsome a rogue.”
“He must be hid,” cries Miss.
“Nay,” said I, “I will serve myself best at large, and not pent within some closet, where a man’s iron were as much use as a toothpick.”
Her ladyship looks at me. “Sure, we’ll swear to you,” she says boldly.
“Well,” says I slyly, “an’ I might without undue trespass be established for Mrs Cynthia’s brother, why”
“Yes, yes,” said the girl eagerly.
Her ladyship looked at me, and next at Miss, and her eyebrows fell an instant. But she said nothing, until presently,
“’Sbud,” she cried, clapping her hands, “I have it, sure. Lard, yes, you shall be sis’s brother and my husband. Gemini! But I have been long without a bed-fellow.”
She held me with her roguish eyes, and looked so damned taking that I was sore put to it not to throw my arms about her on the spot and take the privilege she proffered with such a gust. But instead, “Faith,” said I promptly, “but the character will fit me with all my heart; and a handsomer wife ’twere hard to find the length of Town,” says I.
“Why, for that matter, and the husband, too, is uncommon,” she retorted, smiling at me roundly.
There was that in her eyes that drew me, and in a manner they seemed to communicate with me. But that passed on the instant, and she was laughing lightly the next second.
“Lard!” she cried, “’tis a pretty plot. O my Sol!” and turns to her sister. “Sis, sis, I’ll warrant to save him, the pretty rogue. He is no lover of thine, child, but mine own unlawful husband. Fie, what is come to your cheeks, you jealous minx?” and pushed her with a laughing contempt.
But Miss was looking askew, though I had no eyes for her at the time; and then again the noise of the traps was repeated, and there was the sound of footsteps in the house.
“Go, go,” says Mrs Cynthia.
“Yes, go,” says her ladyship, taking me by the arm and pushing me to the door. “An’ you be my husband, ’tis in my chamber you must stay, not Cynthia’s.” And laughing she put me forth and pulled the door upon me.
Now, I was in no mind to be there in the dark for long, being indeed much taken now with the adventure, which promised better than I had dared imagine. And, moreover, I was anxious to witness the end myself, whatever it might be; and so in a very few minutes, and when, after a little, the sound of their chatter was gone, I opened the door and, creeping out upon the stairway, made for the next floor. Here a noise of voices attracted me to an oaken door, which shoving back, I came into a very spacious chamber, lit up as for the reception of guests. Here was several people in brisk conversation, and my two ladies among ’em, the one of which, she that was to husband me, was calling in a high voice.
“A highwayman!” she cries. “Lard, gentlemen, and in my house! Oh, and us with all our jewels!”
And it was upon the echo of this that I entered and came plump upon the company. There was three of the traps, and they all turned sharp at my footsteps.
“What is this fuss?” says I, in a fine tall voice, and regarding them all with indignation.
“Why, here is our man,” cried one of the traps, a tall lout of a fellow, Wilkins by name, as I knew very well by sight; and thereupon two of them, running up, set their hands on me.
“Oons!” cried I furiously, sending them sprawling. “What the devil! You unmannerly scum!”
“’Tis the man himself, your ladyship,” said Wilkins, and then; “Richard Ryder,” said he, “I arrest you in the King’s name.”
“God a mercy,” broke out her ladyship; “Sir Paul, what is this comedy?”
“Sir Paul!” cries Wilkins in an amaze.
“’Tis my husband, sirrah,” says her ladyship haughtily. “Sir Paul Fulton of the Firs, and Custos Rotulorum for the county of Somerset.”
There was never a fellow taken so aback as this Wilkins. He scratched his rough head, and looked very puzzled, “But, your ladyship” he says, and then stops and rubs his nose. “’Tis the very moral of the man,” he mutters.
“Odzooks!” I said, coming forward and keeping up my voice very stiff with the best of the quality. “You sottish tenterhook! What, would you lay hands upon a justice? And upon what pretence, you hobnailed rogue?”
“I beg your pardon,” he stammered, “I”; and then whispered to his men. I saw them nod their heads, and they talked together with some show of excitement. Then again Wilkins turned to me and “I am sorry,” said he gruffly, “but you must come with me, for it must be proven of the justices whether you be what you claim to be.”
“Why!” I cried, breaking towards him. “Damn you, you muckworm, you rascal—you” And taking the flat of my sword I was there and then for laying ’em all to the floor and shovelling ’em into the street. But at that her ladyship, who had been feigning a rare flutter, now stepped in, putting up a pretty arm afore me.
“Stay, Sir Paul,” says she, and then very imperiously to Wilkins, “You have dared doubt a gentleman’s own word of what he is, and the word of his wife, that he is her husband. Well, as you be King’s officers, you shall have witness, as is in your right to ask. Cynthia!” she calls, and Miss comes up, looking very white and frightened. “Who is this?” says she, pointing at me.
“Sir Paul Fulton,” says the girl with a little hesitation.
“And my husband?” says her ladyship sharply.
“Yes,” says Miss in a low voice.
Her ladyship faces the traps. “Well?” she says.
Wilkins looked all confused; and at this point the door creaked and opened, and there came in softly a little old gentleman, dressed up very precious, and bedizened with fopperies.
Here, I must own, my heart was in my mouth upon this apparition, for we were like to have the tables turned upon our pretty plot, whoever the Devil he was. But her ladyship was never a whit dismayed.
“Ah!” she said joyously, running up to him, “you are come in the nick of time, Sir Charles. What think you? These rogues will make out that Sir Paul here is no husband of mine but a villain of a highwayman or some low fellow. Tell ’em, Sir Charles, tell ’em,” she says, clinging to him, “tell ’em to their faces. Is not this gentleman here Sir Paul, my husband, with whom I have gone to bed these five years?”
If Wilkins was took aback before, the little old gentleman was in even greater disconcert now. He dropped his cane, and next his snuffbox: then he started panting and wheezing, and his eyes bulged out of his sockets; and he grew a kind of purple. Faith, he went through more changes of embarrassment than I could reckon upon paper.
“Prythee, get your breath, Sir Charles,” cried her ladyship, appealingly, “an’ your chest be so bad again. But tell ’em, tell ’em. Lord! I shall die of this insolence.”
And then at last the old creature, getting his wind, says, stammering, “Odds,” he says, “yes, your ladyship, Sir Paul, for sure.”
“And is’t not my husband?” she says entreating.
“Gadsbobs, of course,” he stutters, “your husband.”
“Swear it to them,” she urges piteously, and as one all in a tremble.
“I’ll swear it,” says he in a fluster.
Her ladyship whipped round upon the traps in a splendid bearing, and regarded them haughtily. But that was enough for Wilkins. He hung his head abashed, and made some sort of amends in a sulky, terrified way. But I paid him no heed, not so much as if he was dirt, and the three fellows slunk out of the room, with their tails curled under ’em, I assure you. But it was not upon them I bent my attention; ’twas the little old gentleman as tickled me. For there he was fallen, limp, into a chair, snorting like a pig and mopping of his face, staring the while first at me and then at her ladyship, and sometimes in a bewildered way at Mrs Cynthia. Then, when the door had banged upon the fellows, her ladyship burst out a-laughing.
“Lard, Lard!” she cries, “Sure, I shall die of it all,” and tapping me on the shoulder, “My poor Ryder,” she says, “an’ that be what they call you, you have a taking presence and a rare possession. ’Sbud, but you make a handsome husband, and I an admirable wife to you.”
“Indeed, your ladyship,” I said, “I am sorely beholden to you; and a more elegant display of terrors I ha’n’t seen not upon any stage of Town.”
And then the old boy thrust in, getting his voice once more. “O my lady,” he says, “O my dearest charmer, what does this signify? Odds, but I am all amiss; and who is this fellow?”
“Fellow,” says she, drawing herself up with an air of great magnificence. “Faith, Sir Charles, I will have you to speak civilly of my husband, as you yourself have borne witness.”
That put him further about, with the colour running in his funny old face. “Odds, my dear,” he cried in a wheedling voice, “what spirit of devilry is here? What is this tantrum, ninnykins?”
“Devilry!” says she, “ninnykins! Sure, an’ I was Sir Paul, ’twould not be I that would stand by to hear these terms put upon his wife.”
Now I had no knowledge of what there might be between ’em, save that they seemed upon a certain intimacy, and for all that I knew this might ha’ been the real bed-fellow. Seeing her kindness for me, therefore, I was not for making trouble between ’em, and I came forward with my best manner.
“Hark’ee, Sir Charles,” I says bluntly, “what has fallen ’twixt me and her ladyship is not for your interference, whoever you may be. But, an’ you fuss yourself into a heat about it, and maybe with private grounds of your own, understand that if a lady shall do a poor gentleman great service, ’tis to the credit of her heart, as should be acknowledged the first by one of your years.”
But upon this he rose in his chair, spluttering. “My years!” he squeaked. “Odds! my years! I was born in the year of his gracious Majesty’s Restauration, and there’s midwives to prove it. Oons!”
“Well,” said I, “best hold your temper, for even by that you are old enough to have better manners than to fly out among ladies.”
He fell back, gaping at me, and quite speechless, for he must ha’ been sixty if he was one; and her ladyship good-humorously interposed.
“Come,” she says, “Lard! How you would quarrel upon me! But, ’slife, I have a mind to sup. Sir Charles, cease your dudgeon, and come to supper, you and Sir Paul there.”
The Lord knows I was willing enough, and so, apparently, was Sir Charles, for without more words he scrambled upon his thin shanks and made hastily for the banquet room, where an elegant treat was laid out and furnished for us. And he was no sooner set at the board than he recovered his wits and made play with the victuals with a good spirit. As for me, Lord! I keep still the remembrance of the company, and the viands, very lively. Her ladyship was pleased to sit next me, and all the time was chattering like a nest of magpies, laughing and jesting and plying me with her eyes in a way that warmed me even more than the wine. Miss sat t’other side, seeming rather demure, and the little old gentleman divided himself between gulping down his food and ogling at her ladyship. I was hollow in the midriff myself, and there were good things enough about us, and so I was pretty comfortable at the first. But after a little, and when we were well on in wine, it suited her ladyship to give a turn to her tongue that was not to my liking. ’Twas that damned Wilkins as had put it in her head, and the more she pursued me the shriller the old scarecrow opposite screamed out his hee-hee-hee, and cackled like a parrot. Now, for all my experience of women, and I have encountered them of all qualities, I am better with ’em upon the road, or elsewhere, than thus, in a kind of obligation, and as it were under a bond of gratitude. And what made it worse, was that it had been no manners to fume and grow surly. But, in truth, she put me out.
For says she, archly, “O my dear Ryder, and ha’ you killed many in your business?” and when Miss leaned over with her ears open, “Faith, sis, I’ll swear ’tis a very wicked fellow.”
“Why, no,” says I foolishly, “no more than my share.”
“Ah, but,” says she, “I know you gentlemen. O you rogue!” And ere I could prick up my wits to retort on her, she gave a little scream, and putting her hands to her face, “O Captain Ryder,” she says, feigning to implore me, “an’ we meet, you will spare my jewels? ’Slidikins, my dear Ryder, promise me that.”
This set me shifting in my seat, but I was at a loss for words; and then she flew off again in her light-headed fashion. “Captain dear,” she says eagerly, “odds me, but you shall learn me the trade. Faith, and I’ll learn it; indeed, sis, and I will.”
’Twas not that I minded the knowledge of my calling, for I never have blushed for that; but to be made a mock of before an old Mawkin, and with Mrs Cynthia’s face of wonderment opposing me, was a sorry trial for my temper. But I was not to be drawn out, and I passed it off pretty well, for I says, “Faith, your ladyship,” I says a little roughly, but smiling, “I will teach you anything in the world, and Miss here, and the rather that I’ll warrant with two pretty faces and no ugly dowdies we should not want for decoys.”
At that she laughed (but Miss turned red) and, clapping her hands, filled me out more wine.
“What an admirable husband I have gotten, for sure!” she cries to Sir Charles, who was hee-heeing in his silly fashion.
“And,” says I, thinking to mark a score upon him, if I might not upon her, “If you and me should meet with some such rolling old rogue, as Sir Charles there, in the hiccups, why I warrant we should set ourselves up for life.”
Sir Charles stuttered, being indeed in the hiccups himself, as I saw, but her ladyship laughed louder, and being now gotten to her fourth glass, put her hand on mine.
“Lard,” says she, “an’ we be not already wed, which I have forgot, we’ll make a match of it, Ryder.”
I was fairly mellow myself by then, and I answered smart enough. “If your ladyship will,” says I cheerfully, “faith I’m for the noose to-morrow.”
Old Mawkin gave a little snarling laugh.
“I wonder at you,” he squeaked, “to hear you talk so boldly of nooses.”
“’Slife,” said her ladyship sharply, “and why should he not? Mercy! may not my husband-to-be converse of what he will in the house that shall be his?”
“Oons, what mean you?” asked Mawkin, with a hiccup, “a jest is a jest,” he says.
“And a sot is a sot,” she retorted quickly. “But an’ you keep your wits from the orgy, you may dance me to church to-morrow;” and she sent me such a languishing look as thrilled me to the reins.
“By God, that is so,” I said, all afire; and then she laid her hand in mine, and the impulse coming over me sudden, I drew her over with a movement, and kissed her loudly.
“O, you villain, you,” said her ladyship, but she laughed softly and held my hand still. But Sir Charles was gotten upon his legs, all yellow and purple, and his nose gleaming above the rest of his face; while Miss was all of a-tremble.”
“Sis,” she cried, “Sis, shame on you! You would take this jest too far.”
Her ladyship only laughed; and then old Mawkin stamps to the door, shaking his fist, and “You—you are a wanton—” he hiccuped, “odds—you—you” and out he scrambles without finishing, and with our laughter after him. Then there was a moment’s pause, after which Miss turns and addresses me.
“I know not who you be, sir, nor what be your business. That is between you and your conscience. But as you lay a claim to be a gentleman, you will see ’tis a late hour and the time for your leaving.”
For the life of me I could not say how it took me so, for I was never less in the mind to go; but there was that in her bearing and still more in her eyes that sobered me very swiftly; and all of a sudden I recalled that ’twas she that had befriended me in the first. With which I stood slowly on my feet, and “’Tis true,” says I roughly, but with an air of decision, “I had forgot the hours, and needs but I must be packing after Sir Charles. But if ’tis in my hand,” said I, looking at both of ’em studiously, “to return this pleasant entertainment one day, why here’s my word for to command me.”
“Fie! Cynthia,” puts in her ladyship sharply, ”you jealous malapert. Out, you shameless baggage, that would rob me of a husband!”
Miss shrank away, very still and white, and her ladyship turns to me, smiling. “What!” she cried, “you would take fright at this chittyface? Foh! and I shall be jealous myself. But Lard, yes,” she says, simpering, “the child is right. My reputation is to lose. You must not pepper that with spots. O Lard, no. But if not to-night it shall be to-morrow, an’ it fit. Foh! yes.”
I looked at her a moment, and her tumultuous eyes, and then, “Sink me,” I cried, “tomorrow it shall be.”
I scarce know how I came out of the house and was got to bed, but the next morning I was up betimes and engaged with the affairs of the night. You must fancy that here was an odd predicament in the which to find myself. For the lady herself, I had scarce a doubt but she had settled a kind of affection upon me, and indeed I was no gallows-bird for looks, though the women were ever the worst element in my fortunes. But what set me pondering was this: that the bargain was composed deep in wine, and that whereas I was now considering of my position, her slugabed ladyship too might be biting her fingers at me and laughing all over. For the marriage itself, no doubt I had a mind to it; for ’twas a rare chance fallen in my way, such as we devil-may-care gentry would accept singing. I would ha’ leapt to gather the fruits of our relations, with her a widow, as I conceived, and guineas chinking in from many a broad acre. And if it came to that, I had a fancy for her, for she was a woman of mark, with the brand of her beauty as thick on her as her powder. Not but what Polly Scarlett had a neater turn to her shoulders, and a smarter leg to her kirtle. For the matter of that neither was as good as Miss’s for I had seen both of hers pretty plain. Yet her ladyship had an air of gaiety, as it might be, which reminded me of Mrs Polly, and I’ll dare swear, save for the other considerations, there was little to pick between ’em. Still, the adventure, upon my reflections, came out thus: that I would be married an’ she would have it, and be damned to Sir Charles and sis also. And having gotten these convictions, what does I do, but, like a fool, gets on Calypso, and rides off to a mews near by; whence, striking into the square, I stopped before her ladyship’s door.
When I was come inside, after a parley with the footboy, I found her ladyship stretched upon a couch and seeming very weary and lackadaisical.
“O Lord,” says she, “’tis my old friend, Ryder. Sure, captain, you are come to make me merry of your wits, for I be sad enough.” And that was true, for she was pale, as I might discern beneath her colours. I was come in a very high spirit, and as elegant, I’ll warrant, as Sir Charles himself, saving for the gewgaws about him, and for all that she was so melancholical I was not to be stayed and started off very sprightly.
“O Lard, Ryder,” says she, “how you run on! And what is the news of Town?”
“Why,” said I, “there is nothing about the streets, your ladyship, save the runners, and that Sir Charles is fallen into a chagrin.”
She laughed soundly at that, and “O you rogue,” she says.
“And,” I went on, “beside that there is no news save the news that I love you, and that news is old news since last night.”
“What a lover you make!” she cried, very well pleased, as I could see.
“Nay, rather,” says I, “what a husband!”
“Husband!” says she, with a yawn, “Troth, ’tis a silly word.”
“’Twas you as spoke it last night,” said I bluntly.
“O foh!” says she, “you have a most distressing memory, Ryder.”
But I was not to be put off like that, and, having now the fit upon me, I plunged pretty deep into my affections. I wager I gave her as good a story as any of the water-blooded ninnies of the Town, and I vow, too, that she took it with a rare relish. For she seemed vastly delighted, and she says, sighing, “How you woo, Ryder!” she says. “O my poor Ryder, how you must ha’ suffered! Lord, you would believe I was a chit in my teens, like sis, there.”
“As for teens,” says I, “you and me are gotten beyond. I would not have a slip like that for a king’s ransom. Give me a fine stark woman with two valiant and artful eyes in her.”
“O fie,” she said, feigning to cover her face, “you are a most instant villain. How you press me! And, I warrant, you ha’ loved scores.”
“One may dabble in the sex,” I said, “but I have had a passion for none save your ladyship. And I have seen hundreds, but never one to match the turn of your shoulders.”
“I have pretty shoulders,” says she, glancing down at ’em: and she stretched herself upon the couch so as her ankles showed beneath the borders of her petticoats.
“Aye,” said I, “and more!”
“O foh,” she says, but her eyes sparkling, “there be plenty in the Town with better points upon ’em.”
“Indeed, and there’s not,” says I, “as I will prove upon the body of any Huff in London, if he have the ill taste.” She gave me a look out of her eyes, the which set me off in a whirl. “Come,” says I suddenly, “what’s amiss that we should not fetch the parson?”
“O Lard,” she sighed and simpered, “what would the wits of Town say? They would rhyme me out of my life.”
“And I,” I said, “would bleed ’em out of theirs.”
“What a tongue you wag, for sure,” said she archly. “I fear, Ryder, you would take me by storm.”
“I would take you, an’ the parson had hummed upon us,” says I.
“How you clatter about this parson!” says she querulously. “There’s better things than church and parson.”
“Why, as for them,” I said, “maybe I do not reckon so much upon them myself.”
“Well?” says she smiling, holding me and as it were inviting me with her eyes. What was for coming I know not, for my head was dizzy, but just then enters, pat upon us, that nidgett, Sir Charles, tripping over his toasting-iron as he comes in.
“What! is’t you, Sir Charles?” cries her ladyship, while I stood frowning at this spoil-sport, and he staring at me. Then, “But you know my dear Ryder,” says she gaily. “Faith, you interrupt us in our bridal rehearsal.”
The Mawkin stared at me, blinking his eyes, and then with a snort turned short away and marched up to her ladyship. I was sufficiently put about as it was, and was in no temper to stand this; so making a stride after him, I took him by the collar and wheeled him round.
“Sir!” said I tartly, “you have been introduced to a gentleman, and for a gentleman to scowl upon a gentleman in any case is not after my notion of civility. So that’s for you,” I says.
“Odds!” he cried with his squeak, and lugging at his sword, while the red nose on him stood out more like a door-knob than ever.
“Leave that skewer alone,” says I sharply, “or must I learn you that ’tis not for a gentleman to draw in the presence of a lady?”
But as he still struggled with his hilt, and stammered and spluttered, as it might be in a fit, I took him by the nape of the neck and shoved him towards the door.
“Odds!” he says. “Bobs!” he says. “Oons!” says this Mawkin, “you shall repent this.” But I ran him to the door and filluped him out into the hall, and then, returning, found her ladyship fair rolling on the couch with laughter.
“O Ryder, dear!” she cried, “you are an uncommon entertainment. Faith, you capture my heart.”
But here again there was an interposition upon us; for Miss came hastily into the room with a billet for her ladyship.
“O Gemini!” cries her ladyship. “Foh, what is this? You interrupt us. I want not your bills. Lord, you should ha’ seen my Sir Paul with Sir Charles here. Troth, there’s comedy left in life.” And with that her eyes fell upon the superscription of the letter, and she gave a start, and sat up quickly.
But while I was wondering what this might mean, for I saw that she was flustered, Miss came up, and “May I have a word with you, sir?” she said in a low voice.
“Certainly,” said I, “and a thousand for such a pretty face.”
Her lip curled a little, but she made no reply to that, beginning in quite another vein.
“Sir,” she said, “I know not who or what you be, nor whether you be rebel or highwayman; but ’tis best that you should leave this house.”
“What!” said I, “and her ladyship there who is to wed with me?”
She turned her head sharply from me, but then, coming back again, made as if to speak once more; but at this point her ladyship broke in.
“O Lord, sis,” she cried, “give me joy. Faith, and you must guess. Who is’t, d’ye suppose, save the faithless Malvern, the dear rogue!”
“Why, what is this?” I asked, for there was that about her show of excitement that made me wonder. But she took no heed of me, and went on crying out in terms of unaccustomed gladness about this “devoted wretch,” and this “dear villain,” and declared that her hair was all awry, and that she would never be fit more to receive a chairman.
I was not to pass all this in silence, as you may imagine, and so I broke in sharply: “Your ladyship” said I; but ere I could get two words out of my mouth, she waved me away with a gesture of impatience.
“Lard, Ryder, d’ye see that I am busy? I have enough to do but to mind your tantrums;” and fell to re-reading of her letter with every demonstration of delight.
And while I stood there for the moment, mortified and dubitative, I heard Miss’s voice again in my ears. “Sir,” she says, “and indeed ’tis urgent that you go?”
“Why” I cried, turning on her in vexation; but then something in her viznomy stopped me. “Well, what is it?” I asked.
“Whatever you be,” she says, “you have enemies, who will be brought upon you very soon. And you had best escape while there is time.”
“Oh!” said I, for now I understood. “You mean old Mawkin? ’Tis a treacherous old hunks, and I will prick him into a few holes with his own bodkin.”
“I name no names,” she says quickly, “but you will go?” she urged.
“Damme, no,” says I, being now angered at this general opposition; “but I will have it out with her ladyship first, and Hunks too.” I stepped up to her, for the tables were like to be turned upon me all on a sudden. “Your ladyship,” says I, “you ha’ treated me ill.”
“O Lard, Ryder,” she cried, stamping her foot with impatience. “Don’t ye hear sis? Get ye back to your highways ere justice overtakes ye.”
Now this was spoken very brutally, and for all that she had done for me I had not merited a jibe like this at her hands. My blood was up, and I answered very plain.
“Hark’ee, your ladyship,” said I, “I know when a face is welcome. But that’s not to the point,” says I; “for I cannot abide your high-mannered whimsies, and I am no petty varlet to be plucked and tossed aside for sport. Why, says you, ‘We will go to church.’ ‘Certainly,’ says I, seeing your ladyship’s girdle clips the rarest piece—and a pair of eyes! ‘To-morrow,’ says you, ‘To-morrow for me,’ says I. And, faith, when it comes to the act, there’s no more than a footboy’s discharge, or as much ceremony as you would waste upon your maid.”
At that she looked up from her reading for the first time, and laughed at me. “My poor Ryder,” she says, “you ha’ been my husband for a day, and I am not used to keep ’em longer. Thank God that I didn’t divorce ye sooner.”
“Go, sir!” pleaded Miss, at my ears; and she was right enough, for there was the traps at the door, as I could hear.
“Yes, go, my highwayman,” says t’other, indifferently.
“Well,” says I grimly, “an’ I be a highwayman, the which I will not deny, damme, I will not go empty-handed. One or t’other,” says I, looking at ’em, “make your choice, or I’ll have both.”
Her ladyship laughed, and Miss turned red. “O, you may have sis,” says her ladyship. “Only leave me my jewels.”
This nettled me further. “Damn your jewels,” I says, “I’ll have someone forth along of me, sink me if I don’t.”
’Twas then that the door opened, and I turned, thinking the traps were right upon me, but ’twas only Mawkin, rubbing his fingers and humming to himself, very much pleased.
“Take Sir Charles,” says her ladyship lightly.
And somehow all of a sudden the humour took me, for I am a man of odd impulses; and, moreover, I recalled that all this had fallen out by reason of his treachery. I slapped my leg.
“By Gad!” I says, “and so I will.”
Mrs Cynthia cried out aloud, and her ladyship laughed, and old Mawkin struggled; but I took him by the small of his back, and flinging him over my arm, made for the door.
“They will take you,” cried Miss, “they will take you.”
“By the way I came in,” I says, “by that way I go forth, and a pest upon all petticoats!”
“Don’t ye stay in sis’s chamber,” cries out her ladyship, screaming with laughter.
But I was out of the room and up the stairway, ere I could hear more. I pulled old Mawkin through the window for all his gambadoes, catched up Calypso (and my boots) at the mews, and was out and away upon the turnpike to Uxbridge, ere ever a jannizary was in sight. And ’twas not till I was come under Tyburn Tree that I dropped him off the saddle, whence he fell with a splash into some muddy pool that the stream makes there. But as for me, I galloped on, feeling, as you may suppose, mightily out of appetite with women.