The Lion's Skin, Page 2

  CHAPTER II. AT THE "ADAM AND EVE"

  Mr. Caryll, alighted from his traveling chaise in the yard of the "Adamand Eve," at Maidstone, on a sunny afternoon in May. Landed at Doverthe night before, he had parted company with Sir Richard Everard thatmorning. His adoptive father had turned aside toward Rochester, todischarge his king's business with plotting Bishop Atterbury, what timeJustin was to push on toward town as King James' ambassador to the Earlof Ostermore, who, advised of his coming, was expecting him.

  Here at Maidstone it was Mr. Caryll's intent to dine, resuming hisjourney in the cool of the evening, when he hoped to get at least as faras Farnborough ere he slept.

  Landlady, chamberlain, ostler and a posse of underlings hastened togive welcome to so fine a gentleman, and a private room above-stairs wasplaced at his disposal. Before ascending, however, Mr. Caryll saunteredinto the bar for a whetting glass to give him an appetite, and furtherfor the purpose of bespeaking in detail his dinner with the hostess. Itwas one of his traits that he gave the greatest attention to detail, andheld that the man who left the ordering of his edibles to his servantswas no better than an animal who saw no more than nourishment in food.Nor was the matter one to be settled summarily; it asked thought andtime. So he sipped his Hock, listening to the landlady's proposals, andamending them where necessary with suggestions of his own, and what timehe was so engaged, there ambled into the inn yard a sturdy cob bearing asturdy little man in snuff-colored clothes that had seen some wear.

  The newcomer threw his reins to the stable-boy--a person of all theimportance necessary to receive so indifferent a guest. He got downnimbly from his horse, produced an enormous handkerchief of many colors,and removed his three-cornered hat that he might the better mop hisbrow and youthful, almost cherubic face. What time he did so, a pair ofbright little blue eyes were very busy with Mr. Caryll's carriage,from which Leduc, Mr. Caryll's valet, was in the act of removing aportmantle. His mobile mouth fell into lines of satisfaction.

  Still mopping himself, he entered the inn, and, guided by the drone ofvoices, sauntered into the bar. At sight of Mr. Caryll leaning there,his little eyes beamed an instant, as do the eyes of one who espies afriend, or--apter figure--the eyes of the hunter when they sight thequarry.

  He advanced to the bar, bowing to Mr. Caryll with an air almostapologetic, and to the landlady with an air scarcely less so, as heasked for a nipperkin of ale to wash the dust of the road from histhroat. The hostess called a drawer to serve him, and departed herselfupon the momentous business of Mr. Caryll's dinner.

  "A warm day, sir," said the chubby man.

  Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely, and finished his glass, the othersipping meanwhile at his ale.

  "A fine brew, sir," said he. "A prodigious fine brew! With all respect,sir, your honor should try a whet of our English ale."

  Mr. Caryll, setting down his glass, looked languidly at the man. "Why doyou exclude me, sir, from the nation of this beverage?" he inquired.

  The chubby man's face expressed astonishment. "Ye're English, sir! Ecod!I had thought ye French!"

  "It is an honor, sir, that you should have thought me anything."

  The other abased himself. "'Twas an unwarrantable presumption, Codso!which I hope your honor'll pardon." Then he smiled again, his littleeyes twinkling humorously. "An ye would try the ale, I dare swear yourhonor would forgive me. I know ale, ecod! I am a brewer myself. Green ismy name, sir--Tom Green--your very obedient servant, sir." And he drankas if pledging that same service he professed.

  Mr. Caryll observed him calmly and a thought indifferently. "Ye'redetermined to honor me," said he. "I am your debtor for your reflectionsupon whetting glasses; but ale, sir, is a beverage I don't affect, norshall while there are vines in France."

  "Ah!" sighed Mr. Green rapturously. "'Tis a great country, France; is itnot, sir?"

  "'Tis not the general opinion here at present. But I make no doubt thatit deserves your praise."

  "And Paris, now," persisted Mr. Green. "They tell me 'tis a great city;a marvel o' th' ages. There be those, ecod! that say London's but akennel to't."

  "Be there so?" quoth Mr. Caryll indifferently.

  "Ye don't agree with them, belike?" asked Mr. Green, with eagerness.

  "Pooh! Men will say anything," Mr. Caryll replied, and added pointedly:"Men will talk, ye see."

  "Not always," was the retort in a sly tone. "I've known men to beprodigious short when they had aught to hide."

  "Have ye so? Ye seem to have had a wide experience." And Mr. Caryllsauntered out, humming a French air through closed lips.

  Mr. Green looked after him with hardened eyes. He turned to the drawerwho stood by. "He's mighty close," said he. "Mighty close!"

  "Ye're not perhaps quite the company he cares for," the drawer suggestedcandidly.

  Mr. Green looked at him. "Very like," he snapped. "How long does he stayhere?"

  "Ye lost a rare chance of finding out when ye let him go withoutinquiring," said the drawer.

  Mr. Green's face lost some of its chubbiness. "When d'ye look to marrythe landlady?" was his next question.

  The man stared. "Cod!" said he. "Marry the--Are ye daft?"

  Mr. Green affected surprise. "I'm mistook, it seems. Ye misled me byyour pertness. Get me another nipperkin."

  Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had taken his way above stairs to the room setapart for him. He dined to his satisfaction, and thereafter, hisshapely, silk-clad legs thrown over a second chair, his waistcoatall unbuttoned, for the day was of an almost midsummer warmth--he satmightily at his ease, a decanter of sherry at his elbow, a pipe in onehand and a book of Mr. Gay's poems in the other. But the ease went nofurther than the body, as witnessed the circumstances that his pipe wascold, the decanter tolerably full, and Mr. Gay's pleasant rhymes andquaint conceits of fancy all unheeded. The light, mercurial spirit whichhe had from nature and his unfortunate mother, and which he had retainedin spite of the stern training he had received at his adoptive father'shands, was heavy-fettered now.

  The mild fatigue of his journey through the heat of the day had led himto look forward to a voluptuous hour of indolence following upon dinner,with pipe and book and glass. The hour was come, the elements werethere, but since he could not abandon himself to their dominion thevoluptuousness was wanting. The task before him haunted him withanticipatory remorse. It hung upon his spirit like a sick man's dream.It obtruded itself upon his constant thought, and the more he ponderedit the more did he sicken at what lay before him.

  Wrought upon by Everard's fanaticism that day in Paris some three weeksago, infected for the time being by something of his adoptive father'sfever, he had set his hands to the task in a glow of passionateexaltation. But with the hour, the exaltation went, and reaction startedin his soul. And yet draw back he dared not; too long and sedulously hadEverard trained his spirit to look upon the avenging of his mother asa duty. Believing that it was his duty, he thirsted on the one hand tofulfill it, whilst, on the other, he recoiled in horror at thethought that the man upon whom he was to wreak that vengeance was hisfather--albeit a father whom he did not know, who had never seen him,who was not so much as aware of his existence.

  He sought forgetfulness in Mr. Gay. He had the delicate-minded man'sinherent taste for verse, a quick ear for the melody of words, theaesthete's love of beauty in phrase as of beauty in all else; andculture had quickened his perceptions, developed his capacity forappreciation. For the tenth time he called Leduc to light his pipe;and, that done, he set his eye to the page once more. But it was likeharnessing a bullock to a cart; unmindful of the way it went and overwhat it travelled, his eye ambled heavily along the lines, and when hecame to turn the page he realized with a start that he had no impressionof what he had read upon it.

  In sheer disgust he tossed the book aside, and kicking away the secondchair, rose lythely. He crossed to the window, and stood there gazingout at nothing, nor conscious of the incense that came to him fromgarden, from orchard, and from meadow.

>   It needed a clatter of hoofs and a cloud of dust approaching from thenorth to draw his mind from its obsessing thoughts. He watched theyellow body of the coach as it came furiously onward, its four horsesstretched to the gallop, postillion lusty of lungs and whip, and thegreat trail of dust left behind it spreading to right and left over theflowering hedge-rows to lose itself above the gold-flecked meadowland.On it came, to draw up there, at the very entrance to Maidstone, at thesign of the "Adam and Eve."

  Mr. Caryll, leaning on the sill of his window, looked down with interestto see what manner of travellers were these that went at so red-hot apace. From the rumble a lackey swung himself to the rough cobbles of theyard. From within the inn came again landlady and chamberlain, and fromthe stable ostler and boy, obsequious all and of no interest to Mr.Caryll.

  Then the door of the coach was opened, the steps were let down, andthere emerged--his hand upon the shoulder of the servant--a very ferretof a man in black, with a parson's bands and neckcloth, a coal-blackfull-bottomed wig, and under this a white face, rather drawn andhaggard, and thin lips perpetually agrin to flaunt two rows of yellowteeth disproportionately large. After him, and the more remarkable bycontrast, came a tall, black-faced fellow, very brave in buff-coloredcloth, with a fortune in lace at wrist and throat, and a heavilypowdered tie-wig.

  Lackey, chamberlain and parson attended his alighting, and then hejoined their ranks to attend in his turn--hat under arm--the last ofthese odd travellers.

  The interest grew. Mr. Caryll felt that the climax was about to bepresented, and he leaned farther forward that he might obtain a betterview of the awaited personage. In the silence he caught a rustle ofsilk. A flowered petticoat appeared--as much of it as may be seen fromthe knee downwards--and from beneath this the daintiest foot conceivablewas seen to grope an instant for the step. Another second and the restof her emerged.

  Mr. Caryll observed--and be it known that he had the very shrewdest eyefor a woman, as became one of the race from which on his mother's sidehe sprang--that she was middling tall, chastely slender, having, as hejudged from her high waist, a fine, clean length of limb. All this heobserved and approved, and prayed for a glimpse of the face which hersilken hood obscured and screened from his desiring gaze. She raisedit at that moment--raised it in a timid, frightened fashion, as one wholooks fearfully about to see that she is not remarked--and Mr. Caryllhad a glimpse of an oval face, pale with a warm pallor--like the pallorof the peach, he thought, and touched, like the peach, with a faint hintof pink in either cheek. A pair of eyes, large, brown, and gentle asa saint's, met his, and Mr. Caryll realized that she was beautiful andthat it might be good to look into those eyes at closer quarters.

  Seeing him, a faint exclamation escaped her, and she turned away insudden haste to enter the inn. The fine gentleman looked up and scowled;the parson looked up and trembled; the ostler and his boy looked up andgrinned. Then all swept forward and were screened by the porch from thewondering eyes of Mr. Caryll.

  He turned from the window with a sigh, and stepped back to the table forthe tinder-box, that for the eleventh time he might relight his pipe.He sat down, blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, and considered. Hisnature triumphed now over his recent preoccupation; the matter of themoment, which concerned him not at all, engrossed him beyond any othermatter of his life. He was intrigued to know in what relation one to theother stood the three so oddly assorted travellers he had seen arrive.He bethought him that, after all, the odd assortment arose from thepresence of the parson; and he wondered what the plague should anyChristian--and seemingly a gentleman at that--be doing travelling with aparson. Then there was the wild speed at which they had come.

  The matter absorbed and vexed him. I fear he was inquisitive by nature.There came a moment when he went so far as to consider making his waybelow to pursue his investigations in situ. It would have been at greatcost to his dignity, and this he was destined to be spared.

  A knock fell upon his door, and the landlady came in. She was genial,buxom and apple-faced, as becomes a landlady.

  "There is a gentleman below--" she was beginning, when Mr. Caryllinterrupted her.

  "I would rather that you told me of the lady," said

  "La, sir!" she cried, displaying ivory teeth, her eyes cast upwards,hands upraised in gentle, mirthful protest. "La, sir! But I come fromthe lady, too."

  He looked at her. "A good ambassador," said he, "should begin with thebest news; not add it as an afterthought. But proceed, I beg. You giveme hope, mistress."

  "They send their compliments, and would be prodigiously obliged if youwas to give yourself the trouble of stepping below."

  "Of stepping below?" he inquired, head on one side, solemn eyes uponthe hostess. "Would it be impertinent to inquire what they may want withme?"

  "I think they want you for a witness, sir."

  "For a witness? Am I to testify to the lady's perfection of face andshape, to the heaven that sits in her eyes, to the miracle she callsher ankle? Are these and other things besides of the same kind what Iam required to witness? If so, they could not have sent for one morequalified. I am an expert, ma'am."

  "Oh, sir, nay!" she laughed. "'Tis a marriage they need you for."

  Mr. Caryll opened his queer eyes a little wider. "Soho!" said he. "Theparson is explained." Then he fell thoughtful, his tone lost its note offlippancy. "This gentleman who sends his compliments, does he send hisname?"

  "He does not, sir; but I overheard it."

  "Confide in me," Mr. Caryll invited her.

  "He is a great gentleman," she prepared him.

  "No matter. I love great gentlemen."

  "They call him Lord Rotherby."

  At that sudden and utterly unexpected mention of his half-brother'sname--his unknown half-brother--Mr. Caryll came to his feet with analacrity which a more shrewd observer would have set down to some causeother than mere respect for a viscount. The hostess was shrewd, but notshrewd enough, and if Mr. Caryll's expression changed for an instant,it resumed its habitual half-scornful calm so swiftly that it would haveneeded eyes of an exceptional quickness to have read it.

  "Enough!" he said. "Who could deny his lordship?"

  "Shall I tell them you are coming?" she inquired, her hand already uponthe door.

  "A moment," he begged, detaining her. "'Tis a runaway marriage this,eh?"

  Her full-hearted smile beamed on him again; she was a very woman, with ataste for the romantic, loving love. "What else, sir?" she laughed.

  "And why, mistress," he inquired, eying her, his fingers plucking at hisnether lip, "do they desire my testimony?"

  "His lordship's own man will stand witness, for one; but they'll needanother," she explained, her voice reflecting astonishment at hisquestion.

  "True. But why do they need me?" he pressed her. "Heard you no reasongiven why they should prefer me to your chamberlain, your ostler or yourdrawer?"

  She knit her brows and shrugged impatient shoulders. Here was a dealof pother about a trifling affair. "His lordship saw you as he entered,sir, and inquired of me who you might be."

  "His lordship flatters me by this interest. My looks pleased him, let ushope. And you answered him--what?"

  "That your honor is a gentleman newly crossed from France."

  "You are well-informed, mistress," said Mr. Caryll, a thought tartly,for if his speech was tainted with a French accent it was in so slight adegree as surely to be imperceptible to the vulgar.

  "Your clothes, sir," the landlady explained, and he bethought him, then,that the greater elegance and refinement of his French apparel mustindeed proclaim his origin to one who had so many occasions of seeingtravelers from Gaul. That might even account for Mr. Green's attemptsto talk to him of France. His mind returned to the matter of the bridalpair below.

  "You told him that, eh?" said he. "And what said his lordship then?"

  "He turned to the parson. 'The very man for us, Jenkins,' says he."

  "And the parson--this Jenkins--what answer
did he make?"

  "'Excellently thought,' he says, grinning."

  "Hum! And you yourself, mistress, what inference did you draw?"

  "Inference, sir?"

  "Aye, inference, ma'am. Did you not gather that this was not onlya runaway match, but a clandestine one? My lord can depend upon thediscretion of his servant, no doubt; for other witness he would prefersome passer-by, some stranger who will go his ways to-morrow, and not belike to be heard of again."

  "Lard, sir!" cried the landlady, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  Mr. Caryll smiled enigmatically. "'Tis so, I assure ye, ma'am. My LordRotherby is of a family singularly cautious in the unions it contracts.In entering matrimony he prefers, no doubt, to leave a back door openfor quiet retreat should he repent him later."

  "Your honor has his lordship's acquaintance, then?" quoth the landlady.

  "It is a misfortune from which Heaven has hitherto preserved me, butwhich the devil, it seems, now thrusts upon me. It will, nevertheless,interest me to see him at close quarters. Come, ma'am."

  As they were going out, Mr. Caryll checked suddenly. "Why, what'so'clock?" said he.

  She stared, so abruptly came the question. "Past four, sir," sheanswered.

  He uttered a short laugh. "Decidedly," said he, "his lordship must beviewed at closer quarters." And he led the way downstairs.

  In the passage he waited for her to come up with him. "You had bestannounce me by name," he suggested. "It is Caryll."

  She nodded, and, going forward, threw open a door, inviting him toenter.

  "Mr. Caryll," she announced, obedient to his injunction, and as he wentin she closed the door behind him.

  From the group of three that had been sitting about the polished walnuttable, the tall gentleman in buff and silver rose swiftly, and advancedto the newcomer; what time Mr. Caryll made a rapid observation of thisbrother whom he was meeting under circumstances so odd and by a chanceso peculiar.

  He beheld a man of twenty-five, or perhaps a little more, tall andwell made, if already inclining to heaviness, with a swarthy face,full-lipped, big-nosed, black-eyed, an obstinate chin, and a deplorablebrow. At sight, by instinct, he disliked his brother. He wonderedvaguely was Lord Rotherby in appearance at all like their common father;but beyond that he gave little thought to the tie that bound them.Indeed, he has placed it upon record that, saving in such momentsof high stress as followed in their later connection, he never couldremember that they were the sons of the same parent.

  "I thought," was Rotherby's greeting, a note almost of irritation in hisvoice, "that the woman said you were from France."

  It was an odd welcome, but its oddness at the moment went unheeded. Hisswift scrutiny of his brother over, Mr. Caryll's glance passed onto become riveted upon the face of the lady at the table's head. Inaddition to the beauties which from above he had descried, he nowperceived that her mouth was sensitive and kindly, her whole expressionone of gentle wistfulness, exceeding sweet to contemplate. What did shein this galley, he wondered; and he has confessed that just as at sighthe had disliked his brother, so from that hour--from the very instant ofhis eyes' alighting on her there--he loved the lady whom his brother wasto wed, felt a surpassing need of her, conceived that in the meeting oftheir eyes their very souls had met, so that it was to him as if hehad known her since he had known anything. Meanwhile there was hislordship's question to be answered. He answered it mechanically, hiseyes upon the lady, and she returning the gaze of those queer, greenisheyes with a sweetness that gave place to no confusion.

  "I am from France, sir."

  "But not French?" his lordship continued.

  Mr. Caryll fetched his eyes from the lady's to meet Lord Rotherby's."More than half French," he replied, the French taint in his accentgrowing slightly more pronounced. "It was but an accident that my fatherwas an Englishman."

  Rotherby laughed softly, a thought contemptuously. Foreigners werethings which in his untraveled, unlettered ignorance he despised. Thedifference between a Frenchman and a South Sea Islander was a thingnever quite appreciated by his lordship. Some subtle difference hehad no doubt existed; but for him it was enough to know that both wereforeigners; therefore, it logically followed, both were kin.

  "Your words, sir, might be oddly interpreted. 'Pon honor, they might!"said he, and laughed softly again with singular insolence.

  "If they have amused your lordship I am happy," said Mr. Caryll in sucha tone that Rotherby looked to see whether he was being roasted. "Youwanted me, I think. I beg that you'll not thank me for having descended.It was an honor."

  It occurred to Rotherby that this was a veiled reproof for the illmanners of the omission. Again he looked sharply at this man who wasscanning him with such interest, but he detected in the calm, high-bredface nothing to suggest that any mockery was intended. Belatedly he fellto doing the very thing that Mr. Caryll had begged him to leave undone:he fell to thanking him. As for Mr. Caryll himself, not even thequeer position into which he had been thrust could repress hischaracteristics. What time his lordship thanked him, he looked about himat the other occupants of the room, and found that, besides the parson,sitting pale and wide-eyed at the table, there was present in thebackground his lordship's man--a quiet fellow, quietly garbed ingray, with a shrewd face and shrewd, shifty eyes. Mr. Caryll saw, andregistered, for future use, the reflection that eyes that are overshrewdare seldom wont to look out of honest heads.

  "You are desired," his lordship informed him, "to be witness to amarriage."

  "So much the landlady had made known to me."

  "It is not, I trust, a task that will occasion you any scruples."

  "None. On the contrary, it is the absence of the marriage might dothat." The smooth, easy tone so masked the inner meaning of the answerthat his lordship scarce attended to the words.

  "Then we had best get on. We are in haste."

  "'Tis the characteristic rashness of folk about to enter wedlock," saidMr. Caryll, as he approached the table with his lordship, his eyes as hespoke turning full upon the bride.

  My lord laughed, musically enough, but overloud for a man of brains orbreeding. "Marry in haste, eh?" quoth he.

  "You are penetration itself," Mr. Caryll praised him.

  "'Twill take a shrewd rogue to better me," his lordship agreed.

  "Yet an honest man might worst you. One never knows. But the lady'spatience is being taxed."

  It was as well he added that, for his lordship had turned with intent toask him what he meant.

  "Aye! Come, Jenkins. Get on with your patter. Gaskell," he called to hisman, "stand forward here." Then he took his place beside the lady, whohad risen, and stood pale, with eyes cast down and--as Mr. Caryll alonesaw--the faintest quiver at the corners of her lips. This served toincrease Mr. Caryll's already considerable cogitations.

  The parson faced them, fumbling at his book, Mr. Caryll's eyes watchinghim with that cold, level glance of theirs. The parson looked up, metthat uncanny gaze, displayed his teeth in a grin of terror, fell totrembling, and dropped the book in his confusion. Mr. Caryll, smilingsardonically, stooped to restore it him.

  There followed a fresh pause. Mr. Jenkins, having lost his place, seemedat some pains to find it again--amazing, indeed, in one whose professionshould have rendered him so familiar with its pages.

  Mr. Caryll continued to watch him, in silence, and--as an observer mighthave thought, as, indeed, Gaskell did think, though he said nothing atthe time--with wicked relish.