The paragraph closed by fixing the nuptials to take place before the end of the Season.
I looked at my father to try a struggle with him. The whole man was efflorescent.
"Can"t it be stopped?" I implored him.
He signified the impossibility in a burst of gesticulations, motions of the mouth, smiling frowns; various patterns of an absolute negative beating down opposition.
"Things printed can never be stopped, Richie. Our Jorian compares them to babies baptized. They have a soul from that moment, and go on for ever!--an admirable word of Jorian"s. And a word to you, Richie. Will you swear to me by the veracity of your lover"s heart, that paragraph affords you no satisfaction? He cannot swear it!" my father exclaimed, seeing me swing my shoulder round, and he made me feel that it would have been a false oath if I had sworn it. But I could have sworn, that I had rather we two were at the bottom of the sea than that it should come under the princess"s eyes. I read it again. It was in print. It looked like reality. It was at least the realization of my dream. But this played traitor and accused me of being crowned with no more than a dream. The sole practical thing I could do was to insist on our starting for Riversley immediately, to make sure of my own position. "Name your hour, Richie," my father said confidently: and we waited.
A rather plainer view of my father"s position, as I inclined to think, was afforded to me one morning at his breakfast-table, by a conversation between him and Jorian DeWitt, who brought me a twisted pink note from Mdlle. Cha.s.sediane, the which he delivered with the air of a dog made to disgorge a bone, and he was very cool to me indeed. The cutlets of Alphonse were subject to snappish criticism. "I a.s.sume," he said, "the fellow knew I was coming?"
"He saw it in my handwriting of yesterday," replied my father. "But be just to him, acknowledge that he is one of the few that perform their daily duties with a tender conscience."
"This English climate has bedevilled the fellow! He peppers his dishes like a mongrel Indian reared on mangoes."
"Ring him up, ring him up, Jorian. All I beg of you is not to disgust him with life, for he quits any service in the world to come to me, and, in fact, he suits me."
"Exactly so: you spoil him."
My father shrugged. "The state of the case is, that your stomach is growing delicate, friend Jorian."
"The actual state of the case being, that my palate was never keener, and consequently my stomach knows its business."
"You should have tried the cold turbot with oil and capers."
"Your man had better stick to b.u.t.tered eggs, in my opinion."
"Say, porridge!"
"No, I"ll be hanged if I think he"s equal to a bowl of porridge."
"Careme might have confessed to the same!"
"With this difference," cried Jorian in a heat, "that he would never have allowed the thought of any of your barbarous messes to occur to a man at table. Let me tell you, Roy, you astonish me: up till now I have never known you guilty of the bad taste of defending a bad dish on your own board."
"Then you will the more readily pardon me, Jorian."
"Oh, I pardon you," Jorian sneered, tripped to the carpet by such ign.o.ble mildness. "A breakfast is no great loss."
My father a.s.sured him he would have a serious conversation with Alphonse, for whom he apologized by saying that Alphonse had not, to his knowledge, served as hospital cook anywhere, and was therefore quite possibly not sufficiently solicitous for appet.i.tes and digestions of invalids.
Jorian threw back his head as though to discharge a spiteful sarcasm with good aim; but turning to me, said, "Harry, the thing must be done; your father must marry. Notoriety is the season for a pick and choice of the wealthiest and the loveliest. I refuse to act the part of warming-pan any longer; I refuse point blank. It"s not a personal feeling on my part; my advice is that of a disinterested friend, and I tell you candidly, Roy, set aside the absurd exhibition of my dancing attendance on that last rose of Guildhall,--egad, the alderman went like Summer, and left us the very picture of a fruity Autumn,--I say you can"t keep her hanging on the tree of fond expectation for ever. She"ll drop."
"Catch her, Jorian; you are on guard."
"Upwards of three hundred thousand, if a penny, Roy Richmond! Who? I? I am not a fortune-hunter."
"Nor am I, friend Jorian."
"No, it "s because you"re not thorough: you "ll fall between the stools."
My father remarked that he should visit this upon Mr. Alphonse.
"You shook off that fine Welsh girl, and she was in your hand--the act of a madman!" Jorian continued. "You"re getting older: the day will come when you"re a flat excitement. You know the first Lady Edbury spoilt one of your best chances when you had the market. Now you"re trifling with the second. She"s the head of the Light Brigade, but you might fix her down, if she"s not too much in debt. You "re not at the end of your run, I dare say. Only, my good Roy, let me tell you, in life you mustn"t wait for the prize of the race till you touch the goal--if you prefer metaphor. You generally come forward about every seven years or so. Add on another seven, and women"ll begin to think. You can"t beat Time, mon Roy."
"So," said my father, "I touch the goal, and women begin to think, and I can"t beat time to them. Jorian, your mind is in a state of confusion. I do not marry."
"Then, Roy Richmond, hear what a friend says..."
"I do not marry, Jorian, and you know my reasons."
"Sentiments!"
"They are a part of my life."
"Just as I remarked, you are not thorough. You have genius and courage out of proportion, and you are a dead failure, Roy; because, no sooner have you got all Covent Garden before you for the fourth or fifth time, than in go your hands into your pockets, and you say--No, there"s an apple I can"t have, so I"ll none of these; and, by the way, the apple must be tolerably withered by this time. And you know perfectly well (for you don"t lack common sense at a shaking, Roy Richmond), that you"re guilty of simple madness in refusing to make the best of your situation. You haven"t to be taught what money means. With money--and a wife to take care of it, mind you--you are pre-eminently the man for which you want to be recognized. Without it--Harry "ll excuse me, I must speak plainly--you"re a sort of a spectacle of a bob-cherry, down on your luck, up on your luck, and getting dead stale and never bitten; a familiar curiosity"
Jorian added, "Oh, by Jove! it"s not nice to think of." My father said: "Harry, I am sure, will excuse you for talking, in your extreme friendliness, of matters that he and I have not--and they interest us deeply--yet thought fit to discuss. And you may take my word for it, Jorian, that I will give Alphonse his medical dose. I am quite of your opinion that the kings of cooks require it occasionally. Harry will inform us of Mdlle. Cha.s.sediane"s commands."
The contents of the letter permitted me to read it aloud. She desired to know how she could be amused on the Sunday.
"We will undertake it," said my father. "I depute the arrangements to you, Jorian. Respect the prejudices, and avoid collisions, that is all."
Captain DeWitt became by convenient stages cheerful, after the pink slip of paper had been made common property, and from a seriously-advising friend, in his state of spite, relapsed to the idle and shadow-like a.s.sociate, when pleased. I had to thank him for the gift of fresh perceptions. Surely it would be as well if my father could get a woman of fortune to take care of him!
We had at my request a consultation with Dettermain and Newson on the eve of the journey to Riversley, Temple and Jorian DeWitt a.s.sisting.
Strange doc.u.mentary evidence was unfolded and compared with the date of a royal decree: affidavits of persons now dead; a ring, the ring; fans, and lace, and handkerchiefs with notable initials; jewelry stamped "To the Divine Anastasia" from an adoring Christian name: old brown letters that shrieked "wife" when "charmer" seemed to have palled; oaths of fidelity ran through them like ba.s.s notes. Jorian held up the discoloured sheets of ancient paper saying:
"Here you behold the mummy of the villain Love." Such love as it was--the love of the privileged butcher for the lamb. The burden of the letters, put in epigram, was rattlesnake and bird. A narrative of Anastasia"s sister, Elizabeth, signed and sealed, with names of witnesses appended, related in brief bald English the history of the events which had killed her. It warmed pathetically when dwelling on the writer"s necessity to part with letters and papers of greater moment, that she might be enabled to sustain and educate her sister"s child. She named the certificate; she swore to the tampering with witnesses. The number and exact indication of the house where the ceremony took place was stated--a house in Soho;--the date was given, and the incident on that night of the rape of the beautiful Miss Armett by mad Lord Beaumaris at the theatre doors, aided by masked ruffians, after Anastasia"s performance of Zamira.
"There are witnesses I know to be still living, Mr. Temple," my father said, seeing the young student-at-law silent and observant. "One of them I have under my hand; I feed him. Listen to this."
He read two or three insufferable sentences from one of the love-epistles, and broke down. I was ushered aside by a member of the firm to inspect an instrument prepared to bind me as surety for the costs of the appeal. I signed it. We quitted the attorney"s office convinced (I speak of Temple and myself) that we had seen the shadow of something.
CHAPTER XL. MY FATHER"S MEETING WITH MY GRANDFATHER
My father"s pleasure on the day of our journey to Bulsted was to drive me out of London on a lofty open chariot, with which he made the circuit of the fashionable districts, and caused innumerable heads to turn. I would have preferred to go the way of other men, to be unnoticed, but I was subject to an occasional glowing of undefined satisfaction in the observance of the universally acknowledged harmony existing between his pretensions, his tastes and habits, and his person. He contrived by I know not what persuasiveness and simplicity of manner and speech to banish from me the idea that he was engaged in playing a high stake; and though I knew it, and he more than once admitted it, there was an ease and mastery about him that afforded me some degree of positive comfort still. I was still most securely attached to his fortunes. Supposing the ghost of dead Hector to have hung over his body when the inflamed son of Peleus whirled him at his chariot wheels round Troy, he would, with his natural pa.s.sions sobered by Erebus, have had some of my reflections upon force and fate, and my partial sense of exhilaration in the tremendous speed of the course during the whole of the period my father termed his Grand Parade. I showed just such acquiescence or resistance as were superinduced by the variations of the ground. Otherwise I was spell-bound; and beyond interdicting any further public mention of my name or the princess"s, I did nothing to thwart him. It would have been no light matter.
We struck a station at a point half-way down to Bulsted, and found little Kiomi there, thunder in her brows, carrying a bundle, and purchasing a railway-ticket, not to travel in our direction. She gave me the singular answer that she could not tell me where her people were; nor would she tell me whither she was going, alone, and by rail. I chanced to speak of Heriot. One of her sheet-lightning flashes shot out.
"He won"t be at Bulsted," she said, as if that had a significance. I let her know we were invited to Bulsted. "Oh, she "s at home"; Kiomi blinked, and her features twitched like whip-cord. I saw that she was possessed by one of her furies. That girl"s face had the art of making me forget beautiful women, and what beauty was by comparison.
It happened that the squire came across us as we were rounding the slope of larch and fir plantation near a part of the Riversley hollows, leading to the upper heath-land, where, behind a semicircle of birches, Bulsted lay. He was on horseback, and called hoa.r.s.ely to the captain"s coachman, who was driving us, to pull up. "Here, Harry," he sang out to me, in the same rough voice, "I don"t see why we should bother Captain William. It"s a bit of business, not pleasure. I"ve got the book in my pocket. You ask--is it convenient to step into my bailiff"s cottage hard by, and run through it? Ten minutes "ll tell me all I want to know. I want it done with. Ask."
My father stood up and bowed, bareheaded.
My grandfather struck his hat and bobbed.