The MS. in a Red Box Part 13

"Who is the man?"

"Before I tell you, I must have your word never to betray me--never to tell any one else, directly or indirectly."

"I give it you."

"The man is my father."

I laughed now. "Lord Bozzy," "cheating Bozzy," the gipsy rascal, whose feats and pranks were a perpetual and relis.h.i.+ng jest all over the Isle!

It was ridiculous to consider him in the light of a malignant, subtle enemy.

Bess gave me a contemptuous smile. "Do you happen to know that he has stolen a horse, and sold it afterwards to the man from whom he had stolen it? Did you ever hear of his being entertained as an honoured guest at the house of a magistrate, who had condemned him to the stocks a day or two before? Have you heard of his pa.s.sing for a clergyman, London merchant, French traveller, and a dozen other characters, among people who knew him well, or thought they did? And if he can take in every dull-witted squire in the Isle just for mirth and play, what do you suppose he can't do, when he is to gain a fortune by doing it?"

On reflection, I admitted to myself that contempt for Boswell might be foolish, and pa.s.sed at once to suspicion. What if this girl had been employed to frighten me away? Her I did not suspect, but might she not have been allowed to hear this and that, in the hope that she would inform me, and so I might be driven out of the Isle? A fine fellow I should be to run for my life, because a wench cried Bugaboo!

"Well, Bess, I am infinitely obliged to you," I said; "but I am not likely to take to flight. If you are good enough to warn me of any scheme you may hear of, I shall be forearmed."

"Do you suppose my father imparts his plans to me, or any one? I may guess his design by some direction he gives; I may divine a purpose by watching him closely. He doesn't talk of doing a thing, he does it."

It was curious to see the sort of pride she had in the man whose plans she was endeavouring to thwart, pride mingled with fear.

We sat a little while in silence. Then Bess got up to go.

"You will not heed my warning? Oh, you are bewitched, or you would not lose house and land, scorn a fair damsel, who would be your loving, faithful wife, break your father's heart, risk your life, all for--an outlandish woman!"

"I believe you honest, Bess," I rejoined; "but is all this of your own motion?"

"And who should prompt me?" she asked.

"Nay, that I cannot guess."

"Nor ever will." And away she went without another word.

A day or two later, my father returned, looking worn and aged, so that my heart ached to see the change. He, on his part, was deeply concerned to find me weak and ailing, and sent Luke to Doncaster with a letter to a physician there, forbidding him to return until he could bring the doctor. When he heard that my wounds had been got in defending the Goels, he refrained from speech, but his looks were of sorrow and anger both.

Late in the evening he gave to Mr. Butharwick and me an account of what he had done to get the decision of the judges put in force against Vermuijden, but all in vain. At length he determined to appeal to the King himself, whose will made null and void the sentence of the law.

He bribed some of his Majesty's attendants heavily, but could not for a long time obtain audience. The King was in such anxiety and excitement about the Queen's French servants, of whom he greatly desired to be rid, and to have them sent back to their own country, that he could think or hear of nothing else, unless it were of some means of laying hands on money, which he wanted sorely. So the courtiers and servants said. Nevertheless, my father followed the King, who was exceedingly restless, from one place to another, seeking a favourable occasion, and at last found it in a village near Cambridge. One of the King's gentlemen, who had taken my father's money, came to him at his lodging, reporting his Majesty to be in better humour that evening, having had from his Grace of Buckingham a letter which satisfied him the mounseers would soon be packed off to France. Seeing him in this temper, the gentleman had presented my father's pet.i.tion, which the King had read, and then signified that the pet.i.tioner might be admitted to his chamber.

"But as soon as I came into the King's presence," said my father, "I knew, by the scowl on his face, my plea had no chance of success. He did not condescend to speak to me until he had told his people I was from Lincolns.h.i.+re, which Henry VIII. had declared the most disloyal county in England, which condemnation was justified in his own experience. And of this rebellious county, the worst part was the Isle of Axholme, where one of his commissioners had been vilely used of late. Then he went on to say that in his care for his subjects in that barbarous corner of his dominions, he had authorized a scheme for reclaiming many acres of soil now under water, and, pointing to me, he said, 'This fellow has dared to defy his King by opposing our gracious purpose, setting forth I know not what legal quibbles in the courts of law; and when he fails in his rebellious design, actually has the audacity to approach us in person.' Then he tore up the paper and threw it into the fire, and turned to me, saying, 'Go to the devil, and thank your stars you are not helped thither by a sword through your body.' Whereupon I was jostled out of the sacred presence."

After Mr. Butharwick had retired, my father opened out to me on the state of our affairs, and in a strain altogether new. The change was so great as to make me afraid of I hardly knew what. He, who was used to speak and act with so much resolution and masterfulness, now lamented his unwisdom in taking upon him the burdensome charge of the "solicitors.h.i.+p," and accused himself of wronging me thereby. I could scarcely believe my ears, and doubted whether I was awake or dreaming.

"I had confidence that a just cause must prevail in England, but I ought to have perceived that everything is changed in this country. A King, who despises the rights of his people in general, and flouts his Parliament, cannot be hindered of his will with a few landowners and poor folk in Axholme, when he is in dire straits for money, and can get it by trampling us underfoot. In my foolish confidence I have done a great wrong by enc.u.mbering the estate so heavily."

I knew not how to answer; babbled something about doing our utmost to repair the mischief.

"Happily, it is possible to do that," he replied. "There is no doubt that Mistress Ryther and her father will welcome you as a suitor for her hand in marriage. You may not be inclined for matrimony just at present, and there is no hurry, but you should lose no time in asking the lady's promise. That obtained, all our troubles are at an end.

And as soon as you are wedded I will go abroad, taking Butharwick with me, leaving the bride to queen it here. When I return, a house in Beltoft will suffice for me.

"Unfortunately, I cannot ask Mistress Ryther to marry me," I answered, "because I love another lady with every fibre of my body and every thought of my heart."

My father smiled. "You think so, Frank; and it is partly my fault. I ought to have turned you loose in town, sent you on the grand tour, given you a chance to prove how often we can be in love, and how quickly out of it again. 'Tis a malady incident to youth, a pa.s.sing fever; but while the delirium lasts, we see and converse with angels.

Change of air is a cure for it."

How I threw scorn on this scorn of love, how I protested and vowed my love could not die, may be imagined by a lover, and no other would care to read such matter.

My father replied, with an indulgent smile, "Yes, yes, my son, I know.

But you must see that marriage with the Dutch girl is out of the question. You have nothing to marry on. If you refuse Mistress Ryther, you are a landless, penniless man. Even if it were otherwise, how can you wed the daughter of a fellow who broke prison and fled his country, sooner than take his trial for conspiracy to murder his Prince? A pretty family connection for the master of Temple Belwood!

You might as well propose to marry a gipsy; better indeed, for your own people would not burn the house over your head for that, as they certainly would, if you took a wife from the camp of the Dutch invaders. Besides, the girl is mated already--or as good as mated--with a rascal who was drummed out of King Christian's army for cheating at dice. You see I have taken some pains to inform myself about your Fancy and her a.s.sociates."

"And who is your informant, may I ask?"

"A Frenchman, Chavatte by name, a gentleman and a man of affairs, who came over with Vermuijden, putting much money into the business. I met with him at Cambridge, where he was seeking Vermuijden, as I was seeking the Lord's Anointed. He has withdrawn from the company for good reasons. For one thing, he is convinced that the plan for the drainage is fatally defective, and Vermuijden will not hear of alteration. Then he has discovered that the King has sold what never belonged to him, and has no mind to be a receiver of stolen goods, nor does he expect that the rightful owners will ever submit to the robbery. And he has the strongest distaste to Vermuijden's lieutenant and deputy. He is trying to recover some of his money, and will shortly go home. You will be inclined to consider him a man of sense, for he admires Mistress Goel's beauty, and applauds her devotion to her father, whom he regards as lunatic, most especially because he desires to give her in marriage to this Vliet. 'But he finds favour with the incomprehensible s.e.x,' Chavatte added, with his French shrug of the shoulders."

I did not speak for some time. A horrible doubt had crept into my mind. Suppose Anna's filial piety should overcome her repugnance to Sebastian Vliet. Suppose the fellow had reformed his conduct. Suppose he succeeded in gaining her consent. If Anna were lost to me, what mattered it to me whether I married Mistress Ryther, or a gipsy, or a blackamoor? If I could redeem the dear old place, and make my father happy, was it not my duty to do so? Always supposing that Anna could not, or would not be my wife. It was the first time I had given way to despondency, and even now I do not understand what it was that plunged me into gloom.

One thing only was clear to me, that I must see Anna without delay, and learn whether I was to be blessed or miserable for the whole of my life. I could not keep before myself that I had nothing to offer for her acceptance, or that her father might treat the offer with ridicule.

I could think of nothing but the necessity to see Anna, and hear the word which should decide my fate. My father said nothing to interrupt my meditations. Since he had been away from home, he had formed the habit of smoking, and he now lighted his pipe and puffed silently.

When he had finished his pipe and knocked out the ashes, he said--

"I will not press you for an answer to-night; but it is to be remembered that handsome young women, who have heaps of money, are not as plentiful as blackberries in September."

"I will give you an answer to-morrow evening," I replied; but did not say anything of my intention to go to Sandtoft in the morning, for I felt certain my father would oppose it strongly. Indeed, what with the lightness of my head and the heaviness of my heart, it took me some time to get upstairs and to bed. Luke, who was accustomed to help me, was away, and it occurred to me that if I missed him to-night, I should miss him much more to-morrow.

CHAPTER XI

As I was about to turn in to bed, I perceived a red glare in the sky westward, and feared it meant trouble at Sandtoft, so I lay long awake; but at length weariness overpowered me, and I slept for some hours. I awoke early, and, having dressed in a slow, fumbling way--my arm being more than usually painful--I walked out as if I sought the morning air, taking care to give no inkling of my purpose to the servants, who were already astir.

At that time of the year, the middle of August, there was choice of three modes of crossing the fen. One might pick one's way on stilts, or with cleat-boards, but in my present weakness I dared not adventure either method. The third course was to take boat at Belshaw, on a winding stream, which in the end joined the Idle a mile or so above Sandtoft. Luke had told me that the Idle was flowing again since the destruction of Vermuijden's work in the south of the Isle, so I chose the easiest, if slowest, manner of going; but when I reached the little inn at Belshaw, there was no boat to be had. Dame Drury told me their boat was at the carpenter's under repair, and the flat-bottomed punt Drury had taken out, meaning to try for half-duck and snipe, which had begun to appear in the fen. There was nothing for me but to await his return, which would be early or late, according to his luck in fowling.

While the dame got ready a breakfast for me, she chanced to make mention of her husband's cousin, who had lain at their house for a year, crippled with a kind of palsy. Half in curiosity, half in compa.s.sion, I questioned her, and learned that he was about thirty years of age, that he had inherited a moderate property on the death of his father thirteen years ago, and had gone out to see the world, seeking knowledge and adventure in many countries. Some twelve months before this time he had arrived in London, intending to visit his friends in the Isle, and then to go to Virginia to join Captain John Smith (who was a distant kinsman of the Drurys); but he had been suddenly struck down by a mysterious disease, and now lay helpless in an upper room. On my asking whether the poor fellow would welcome a visitor, she went to inquire, while I took my meal, and came back with the message that he would be very glad to receive me.

At first sight my heart warmed to him, though what was the secret of his charm for me I do not know. Do we ever know what it is which draws us toward another? He had a handsome face, but his eyes only were remarkable. The broad brow was crowned with cl.u.s.ters of dark hair; mouth and chin were hidden under moustachios and beard, but the eyes glowed. There was witchery in his smile, as he extended his thin hand, saying--

"This is a day to be marked with a white stone. I have often heard of you, but little expected ever to see you in my den."

I gripped the hand, with a choking in my throat to see such a man a prisoner, and said--

"If I had known, I would have come earlier."

"I thank Dame Fortune that you have come now," said he.

He had made his poor little room a wonderful place. On the walls were many sketches, pencilled from memory chiefly, as I came to know afterwards, full of life and spirit. Quaint drawings, the expression of his humorous fancy, there were also. A few well-thumbed books in several languages stood at his bed's head. On the table lay papers covered with mathematical studies. He followed my glance, and said--

"The hours are not so leaden-footed as you might fear. With books and pencil and a questioning habit of mind, one need not be idle."

"But accustomed to liberty and travel----" I began.