A biscuit had been their breakfast without a name.
They parted at the station, roused by the smell of salt to bestow a more legitimate t.i.tle on the day"s restorative beginning. Down the hill, along by the shops, and Skepsey, in sight of Miss Nesta"s terrace, considered it still an early hour for a visitor; so, to have the sea about him, he paid pier-money, and hurried against the briny wings of a South-wester; green waves, curls of foam, flecks of silver, under low-flying grey-dark cloud-curtains shaken to a rift, where at one shot the sun had a line of Nereids nodding, laughing, sparkling to him.
Skepsey enjoyed it, at the back of thoughts military and naval. Visible sea, this girdle of Britain, inspired him to exultations in reverence.
He wished Mr. Durance could behold it now and have such a breastful.
He was wishing he knew a song of Britain and sea, rather fancying Mr.
Durance to be in some way a bar to patriotic poetical recollection, when he saw his Captain Dartrey mounting steps out of an iron anatomy of the pier, and looking like a razor off a strap.
"Why, sir!" cried Skepsey.
"Just a plunge and a dozen strokes," Dartrey said; "and you"ll come to my hotel and give me ten minutes of the "recreation"; and if you don"t come willingly, I shall insult your country."
"Ah! I wish Mr. Durance were here," Skepsey rejoined.
"It would upset his b.u.mboat of epigrams. He rises at ten o"clock to a queasy breakfast by candlelight, and proceeds to composition. His picture of the country is a portrait of himself by the artist."
"But, sir, Captain Dartrey, you don"t think as Mr. Durance does of England!"
"There are lots to flatter her, Skepsey! A drilling can"t do her harm.
You"re down to see Miss Nesta. Ladies don"t receive quite so early.
And have you breakfasted? Come on with me quick." Dartrey led him on, saying: "You have an eye at my stick. It was a legacy to me, by word of mouth, from a seaman of a ship I sailed in, who thought I had done him a service; and he died after all. He fell overboard drunk. He perished of the villain stuff. One of his messmates handed me the stick in Cape Town, sworn to deliver it. A good knot to grasp; and it "s flexible and strong; stick or rattan, whichever you please; it gives point or caresses the shoulder; there"s no break in it, whack as you may. They call it a Demerara supple-jack. I"ll leave it to you."
Skepsey declared his intention to be the first to depart. He tried the temper of the stick, bent it a bit, and admired the prompt straightening.
"It would give a good blow, sir."
"Does its business without braining."
Perhaps for the reason, that it was not a handsome instrument for display on fashionable promenades, Dartrey chose it among his collection by preference; as ugly dogs of a known fidelity are chosen for companions. The Demerara supple-jack surpa.s.ses bull-dogs in its fashion of a.s.sisting the master; for when once at it, the clownish-looking thing reflects upon him creditably, by developing a refined courtliness of style, while in no way showing a diminution of jolly ardour for the fray. It will deal you the stroke of a bludgeon with the playfulness of a cane. It bears resemblance to those accomplished natural actors, who conversationally present a dramatic situation in two or three spontaneous flourishes, and are themselves again, men of the world, the next minute.
Skepsey handed it back. He spoke of a new French rifle. He mentioned, in the form of query for no answer, the translation of the barking little volume he had shown to Mr. Barmby: he slapped at his breast-pocket, where it was. Not a ship was on the sea-line; and he seemed to deplore that vacancy.
"But it tells both ways," Dartrey said. "We don"t want to be hectoring in the Channel. All we want, is to be sure of our power, so as not to go hunting and fawning for alliances. Up along that terrace Miss Nesta lives. Brighton would be a choice place for a landing."
Skepsey temporized, to get his national defences, by pleading the country"s love of peace.
"Then you give-up your portion of the gains of war--an awful disgorgement," said Dartrey. "If you are really for peace, you toss all your spare bones to the war-dogs. Otherwise, Quakerly preaching is taken for hypocrisy."
"I "m afraid we are illogical, sir," said Skepsey, adopting one of the charges of Mr. Durance, to elude the abominable word.
"In you run, my friend." Dartrey sped him up the steps of the hotel.
A little note lay on his breakfast-table. His invalid uncle"s valet gave the morning"s report of the night.
The note was from Mrs. Blathenoy: she begged Captain Dartrey, in double underlinings of her brief words, to mount the stairs. He debated, and he went.
She was excited, and showed a bosom compressed to explode: she had been weeping. "My husband is off. He bids me follow him. What would you have me do?"
"Go."
"You don"t care what may happen to your friends, the Radnors?"
"Not at the cost of your separation from your husband."
"You have seen him!"
"Be serious."
"Oh, you cold creature! You know--you see: I can"t conceal. And you tell me to go. "Go!" Gracious heavens! I"ve no claim on you; I haven"t been able to do much; I would have--never mind! believe me or not. And now I"m to go: on the spot, I suppose. You"ve seen the man I "m to go to, too. I would bear it, if it were not away from... out of sight of I"m a fool of a woman, I know. There"s frankness for you! and I could declare you"re saying "impudence" in your heart--or what you have for one. Have you one?"
"My dear soul, it "s a flint. So just think of your duty." Dartrey played the horrid part of executioner with some skill.
Her bosom sprang to descend into abysses.
"And never a greater fool than when I sent for you to see such a face as I"m showing!" she cried, with lips that twitched and fingers that plucked at her belt. "But you might feel my hatred of being tied to--dragged about over the Continent by that... perhaps you think a woman is not sensible of vulgarity in her husband! I "m bothering you? I don"t say I have the slightest claim. You never made love to me, never!
Never so much as pressed my hand or looked. Others have--as much as I let them. And before I saw you, I had not an idea of another man but that man. So you advise me to go?"
"There"s no other course."
"No other course. I don"t see one. What have I been dreaming of! Usually a woman feeling..." she struck at her breast, "has had a soft word in her ear. "Go!" I don"t blame you, Captain Dartrey. At least, you "re not the man to punish a woman for stripping herself, as I "ve done. I call myself a fool--I"m a lunatic. Trust me with your hand."
"There you are."
She grasped the hand, and shut her eyes to make a long age of the holding on to him. "Oh, you dear dear fellow!--don"t think me unwomanly; I must tell you now: I am naked and can"t disguise. I see you are ice--feel: and if you were different, I might be. You won"t be hurt by hearing you"ve made yourself dear to me--without meaning to, I know!
It began that day at Lakelands; I fell in love with you the very first minute I set eyes on you! There"s a confession for a woman to make! and a married woman! I"m married, and I no more feel allegiance, as they call it, than if there never had been a ceremony and no Jacob Blathenoy was in existence. And why I should go to him! But you shan"t be troubled. I did not begin to live, as a woman, before I met you. I can speak all this to you because--we women can"t be deceived in that--you are one of the men who can be counted on for a friend."
"I hope so," Dartrey said, and his mouth hardened as nature"s electricity shot sparks into him from the touch and rocked him.
"No, not yet: I will soon let it drop," said she, and she was just then thrillingly pretty; she caressed the hand, placing it at her throat and moving her chin on it, as women fondle birds. "I am positively to go, then?"
"Positively, you are to go; and it"s my command."
"Not in love with any one at all?"
"Not with a soul."
"Not with a woman?"
"With no woman."
"Nor maid?"
"No! and no to everything. And an end to the catechism!"
"It is really a flint that beats here?" she said, and with a shyness in adventurousness, she struck the point of her forefinger on the rib.
"Fancy me in love with a flint! And running to be dutiful to a Jacob Blathenoy, at my flint"s command. I"m half in love with doing what I hate, because this cold thing here bids me do it. I believe I married for money, and now it looks as if I were to have my bargain with poverty to bless it."
"There I may help," said Dartrey, relieved at sight of a loophole, to spring to some initiative out of the paralysis cast on him by a pretty little woman"s rending of her veil. A man of honour alone with a woman who has tossed concealment to the winds, is a riddled target indeed: he is tempted to the peril of cajoleing, that he may escape from the torment and the ridicule; he is tempted to sigh for the gallant spirit of his naughty adolescence. "Come to me--will you?--apply to me, if there"s ever any need. I happen to have money. And forgive me for naming it."