"No," she answered. "But it was a coward played the sneak for Ferguson. And a coward played the rogue for Smith! It was a coward lost Fenwick--because he dare not look behind! And a coward who will now sacrifice his benefactor, to save his own skin. And _you_ only know in how many other things you have played the craven. But the rather for that, up, now, and play the man! You have a chance now! Do this one brave thing and all will be forgiven. Oh, d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k!" she continued--and with a sudden blaze in her face she stooped and threw her arms round me, "if you love me, do it! Do it for us both! Do it--or if you cannot, G.o.d knows it were better we were hung, than married!"
I cannot hope to describe the fervour, which she threw into these last words, or the effect which they wrought on me, weakened as I was by long illness. In a voice broken by tears I conjured her to give me time--to give me time; a few days in which to consider what I would do.
"Not a day!" she answered, springing from me in fresh excitement, and as if my touch burned her. "I will give you no time. You have had a lifetime, and to what purpose? I will give you no time. Do you give me your word."
"To go to England?"
"Yes."
I was ashake from head to foot; and groaned aloud. In truth if I had known the gallows to be the certain and inevitable end of the road, on which I was asked to enter, I could not have been more sorely beset; between rage and fear, and shame of her and desire for her. But while I hung in that misery, she continuing to stand over me, I looked, as it happened, in her face; and I saw that it was no longer hot with anger, but sad and drawn as by a sharp pain. And I gave her my word, trembling and shaking.
"Now," said she, "are you a brave man; and perhaps the bravest."
CHAPTER XLI
That the arrest of Sir John Fenwick, reported in London on the 13th of June, was regarded by all parties as an event of the first magnitude, scarce exceeded in importance by a victory in Flanders or a defeat in the Mediterranean, is a thing not to be denied at this time of day; when men, still in their prime, can recall the commotion occasioned by it. The private animosity, which was believed to exist between Sir John and the King, and which dated, if the gossip of Will"s and Garraway"s went for anything, not from the slight which he had put upon the late Queen, but from a much earlier period, when he had served under William in Flanders, aroused men"s curiosity, and in a sense their pity; as if they were to see here the end of a Greek drama.
Nor, apart from the public and general interest, which Sir John"s birth and family connections, no less than his share in the plot, considerably augmented, was there any faction which could view his arrest with indifference. He had been so deep in the confidence of St.
Germain"s that were he to make a discovery, not Tories and Jacobites only lay at his mercy, but all that large cla.s.s among the Whigs who had stooped to palter with James. These, as they were the more culpable had also more to fear. Trembling at the prospect of a disclosure which must convict them of practices at variance with their most solemn professions, they were supported by none of those sentiments of loyalty, honourable if mistaken, which excused the others; while as each fondly thought his perfidy unknown to his neighbour, and dreaded nothing so much as detection by the rank and file of the party, he found the burden of apprehension weigh the more heavily, because he had none to share it with him.
The absence of the King, who was campaigning in Flanders, aggravated the suspense; which prevailed so widely for the reasons above, and others, that it is not too much to say that barely four politicians could be found of the first or second rank who were not nearly concerned in the question of Sir John Fenwick"s silence. Of these, however, I make bold to say that my lord was one; and though the news that Sir John, who lay in the Tower, had sent for the Duke of Devonshire may have excited a pa.s.sing feeling of jealousy in his mind--since he and not the other Duke was the person to whom Sir John might more fitly unbosom himself--I am confident, and, indeed, had it from his own lips, that at this time he had no notion of any danger threatening himself.
His eyes were first opened by the Earl of Marlborough; who, calling upon him one day, ostensibly on business connected with the Princess Anne (to whom the King had been reconciled before his departure), presently named Sir John. From this to the statement made to the Duke of Devonshire, and the rumours of its contents which filled the coffee-houses, was but a step. The Earl seemed concerned; my lord, in his innocence, sceptical.
At length the latter spoke out what was in his mind. "To tell you the truth, my lord," he said frankly, "I think it is a mare"s nest. I don"t believe that any statement has been made."
The Earl looked astonished. "May I ask why not?" he said.
"Because, unless I am much mistaken," my lord answered smiling, "the Duke would have brought it straight to me. And I have heard nothing of it."
"You have not asked the Duke?"
"Of course not."
"But--he was with Sir John," the Earl persisted steadily. "There is no doubt of that, is there?"
"Oh, no."
"Well, then, is not that in itself strange?"
"I think not, there have always been friendly relations," my lord continued, "between the Duke and Sir John."
"Just so," Lord Marlborough answered, taking a pinch of snuff. "Still, do those relations warrant the Lord Steward in visiting him now?"
The Secretary looked a little startled. "Well, I don"t know," he said.
"But the Duke of Devonshire"s patriotism is so well established----"
"That he may steal the horse, while we look over the wall," Lord Marlborough answered, taking him up with a smile. "Be that as it may,"
he continued, "and I am sure that the same may be said of the Duke of Shrewsbury,"--here the two n.o.blemen bowed to one another--"I think your Grace"s information is somewhat faulty on this point. I happen to know that immediately after the interview a special messenger left Devonshire House for Loo; and that the matters he carried were reduced into writing by his Grace"s own hand. That being so, Duke, you are better qualified to draw the inference than I am."
My lord, at that, looked grave and nodded, being convinced; and I do not doubt that he felt the slight which the other Duke"s silence implied. But though, of all the men I have ever met, he was the most sensitive, he was the last also, to wear his heart on his sleeve; and not only did he refrain from complaint of his colleague"s conduct, but he hastened to dispel by a word or two the effect of his momentary gravity. "Ah, then I can guess what happened," he said, nodding his comprehension. "I have no doubt that Sir John made it a term that his discovery should be delivered to the King at first hand--and to no one else."
Lord Marlborough rose. "Duke," he said firmly, "I think it is fair that I should be more frank with you. The reason you give is not the reason they are giving in the coffee-houses--for the Lord Steward"s reticence."
"No!" said my lord, with a faint note of scorn in his voice.
"No," said the Earl. "On the contrary, they say at Will"s--and for the matter of that at the St. James"s too, that the statement is kept close because it touched men in power."
"In power?" said my lord, with the same note in his voice. "In the Council, do you mean?"
"Yes; three men."
"Do they name them?"
"Certainly," said my Lord Marlborough, smiling. "And they join with the three one who is not in power."
"Ah!"
"Myself."
Nothing could exceed the placid indifference, as natural as it was free from exaggeration, which the Earl contrived to throw into his last word. Yet my lord started, and shuffled uneasily in his chair.
Knowing something, and perhaps suspecting more, aware of the character which his enemies attributed to Lord Marlborough, he would not have been the statesman he was, if he had not fancied an ulterior design, in an admission not a little embarra.s.sing. He confined himself, therefore, to a polite shrug expressive of incredulity, and to the words "_Credat Judaeus_."
"Just so," said Lord Marlborough, whose erudition was not on a par with the marvellous strategical powers he has since displayed. "What, then, will your Grace say--to Ned Russell?"
"The First Lord of the Admiralty? Is _he_ named?"
"In the coffee-houses."
"Ah!"
"Lord G.o.dolphin!"
"Impossible!"
"Not so impossible as the fourth," Lord Marlborough answered, with a light laugh, in which courtesy, amus.e.m.e.nt, and a fine perception of the ridiculous were nicely mingled. "Can you not guess, Duke?"
But my lord, too prudent to suggest names in that connection, shook his head. "Who could?" he said, raising his eyebrows scornfully. "They might as well name me, as some you are mentioning."
Lord Marlborough laughed softly. "My very dear Duke," he said, "that is just what they are doing! They do name you. You are the fourth."
I believe that my lord had so little expected the answer that for a s.p.a.ce he remained, staring at the speaker, in equal surprise and dismay. Then his indignation finding vent: "It is not possible!" he cried. "Even in the coffee-houses! And besides, if your story is true, my lord, the Duke of Devonshire alone knows what Sir John has discovered, and whom he has accused!"
Lord Marlborough pursed up his lips. "Things get known--strangely," he said. "For instance, the shadow which came between your Grace and His Majesty in "90--probably you supposed it to be known to the King only, or if to any besides, to Portland at most? On the contrary, there was scarce a knot of chatterers at Garraway"s but whispered of your dinners with Middleton, and meetings with Montgomery, watched for the event, and gave the odds on St. Germain"s in guessing."