One of the Six Hundred 6One of the Six Hundred (part 6)
18
Literature · Romance
One of the Six Hundred 6
One of the Six Hundred (part 6)
GrantEnglish
"This craving is so strong in the poor lamb's heart, sir, that she will be a dyin' as sure as we look on her, unless it be gratified, and athout a angel comes from heaven; I don't know how it is to be done," said Mrs. Goldsworthy, weeping noisily, like all people of her class, as she ushered me to the door, and to my horse, which was pawing the ground impatiently, with the dew on his coat and saddle.
"Take her there without loss of time, my good friend," said I.
"She divided her last crown with a poor fisherman yesterday, to get some comforts for his sick wife."
"Good heavens! Is she then without means?"
"Quite, sir; and if Mr. Berkeley----"
I struck my spurred heels into the gravel at the sound of his name, and exclaimed----
"Poor girl, I shall give her the means."
"You, sir?"
"Yes."
"Oh, sir--sir--but she'll never take it from you," said Mrs. Goldsworthy, sobbing into her apron with great vociferation.
"She must; and let her remember me in her prayers when I am far away. At eight to-morrow evening I shall be here again for the last time, my worthy friend, and will supply her with what she requires."
Before the nurse could reply I was in my saddle, and had closed the iron gate; but just as I rode off, I nearly trod down a man who was muffled in a poncho cloak, and who leant against the gate pillar--whether listening or asleep, I knew not; yet, had I looked more closely, I might have detected the moustached face of my quondam friend, Mr. De Warr Berkeley. For this loiterer, or eavesdropper, proved in the sequel to be no other than he.
To outflank me, and to place himself, his fortune (and his debts), at the complete disposal of Lady Louisa Loftus, was now the plan--the game--of my friendly brother officer; and with what success we shall see ere long.
I was full of thought while riding slowly home to the barracks on the Thanet Road; I longed for Cora's coming to unravel the mystery of Louisa's conduct, and yet dreaded to face my cousin or broach the matter to her. I was inspired with sympathy for the poor lost creature I had just quitted, and full of indulgence for her mode of life, and excuses for her fate and fall. Her singular beauty greatly aided emotions such as these, for the morbid state of her health lent a wondrous lustre to her dark blue eyes, and marvellous transparency to her lovely complexion; and I felt extreme satisfaction that it was in my power to gratify a wish that was, perhaps, her last one--to pay a pilgrimage to the resting-place of her parents.
The sweet verse of honest Goldsmith occurred to me--
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom is--to die!
At the same time I thought it very doubtful whether any such catastrophe would wring the padded bosom of Berkeley.
Had Agnes Auriol been a wrinkled crone, it may be a matter for consideration whether I--a young officer of lancers--would have been so exceedingly philanthropic in her cause. I hope I should.
On arriving at the barracks, my first task was to despatch Pitblado by the night train to head-quarters, with a note to M'Goldrick, the paymaster, for at least fifty pounds, saying I wanted the money, and must have it by noon to-morrow.
*CHAPTER XIX.*
But the spite on't is, no praise
Is due at all to me;
Love with me hath made mad no staies
Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she,
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
Twelve dozen in her place.
SIR JOHN SUCKLING.
Promptly, by an early train, Willie Pitblado arrived with the cash from M'Goldrick, and with that which alike puzzled and provoked me--a brief note from my friend, Jack Studhome, the adjutant, advising me that, from rumours he, Scriven, and Wilford had heard--rumours circulated insidiously, he knew not how or by whom, in the billiard-rooms we frequented, and indeed about Maidstone barracks generally--my visits to a certain romantic cottage near the Reculvers were well known. I might mean no wrong, certainly; but was it judicious or wise to get myself into a scrape with a brother officer?
There was no mistaking the object of this friendly epistle of Jack's, and it filled me with fresh anger against Berkeley. Who but he could insidiously spread those reports concerning what he alone knew or could affect an interest in! I knew his subtle and crooked mode of working; and his ultimate object was undoubtedly that this rumour against me should ere long reach Chillingham Park.
Yet, removed as I was from head-quarters, I could do nothing in the matter, and for the present had only "to grin and bear it."
Morning parade over, in obedience to Colonel Beverley's order, I was putting the troop through a course of sword and lance exercise personally, and was so earnestly engaged in the work of the moment, that I did not perceive a dashing phaeton, drawn by a pair of spanking grey ponies, attended by an outrider in livery, on a showy bay horse, that entered the barrack-yard, and drew up close by, as if its occupants wished to observe the progress of the drill.
After the lapse of a few minutes, Troop Sergeant-Major Stapylton trotted his horse forward, and said--
"Beg pardon, Captain Norcliff, but some friends of yours are waiting for you, sir."
Turning in my saddle, how great was my surprise to see Lady Louisa and Cora in the phaeton, which was driven by Berkeley, who was attired in a very accurate suit of forenoon mufti. Dismounting, I sheathed my sword, threw my reins to Stapylton, and saying to my lieutenant, Jocelyn--
"Frank, like a good fellow, finish off this piece of drill for me, please," advanced at once to greet my fair friends, whose visit, I felt, was due to Cora.
"How interesting this is!" said Lady Louisa, presenting her carefully-gloved little hand, with a brilliant smile, as she proceeded to imitate my last order, "Prepare to dismount! one; the lance to be raised out of the bucket, by the right hand sliding down to the extent of the arm; two--ah, I forget two; you are quite an enthusiast."
Under this banter I detected, or thought so, a deep glance of anxiety and hidden meaning, more especially as she added, "You evidently think more of this drill-sergeant's work than of me."
My heart was so filled with sudden joy that I knew not what I said; but I kissed Cora's hand to conceal my confusion.
"And what of good Sir Nigel, Cora?" I asked.
"Papa comes to England to see you go away, and to take me home," replied my cousin, in a calm voice; "home to Calderwood, when all is over."
"All is over?"
"I mean when the army departs."
"And you are on leave, I perceive, Berkeley?"
"Aw--haw--yes, for a day or so. Doocid bore the work at Maidstone," he drawled out.
I was obliged as yet to dissemble, though there was an ill-concealed air of smiling triumph about my comrade that gave me considerable uneasiness.
"And now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?" said Lady Louisa, tapping me on the epaulette with her parasol, and speaking with an air of mock severity. "So the rules of society are to be inverted to suit your lancer tastes; the ladies are to wait upon the gentlemen? Quartered actually in Canterbury, and yet you never came near us."
"Lady Louisa," I was beginning, yet not knowing what to say, as I could never imagine that she doubted the reason of my non-appearance at Chillingham.
"What am I to think of it?" she continued, smiling.
Berkeley laughed. I believe the fellow thought we were on the eve of a coolness.
"Remember my constitutional timidity," I urged.
"Timidity in a captain of lancers!" she exclaimed, laughing.
"I ventured to hope that the earl, at least, might have remembered me."
"You knew that I was at Chillingham Park, it appears?" she observed, with a pretty air of pique.
"Yes," said I, soothed by her glance of fond reproach; "Sir Nigel's letter told me so."
"Yet you never came even once to visit us, and I longed so much to see you, for I had a good deal to gossip about concerning our residence at Calderwood."
"But the earl omitted to leave a card, and your mamma never wrote; and then the rules of society!" I urged, still harping on my grievance.
"The rules of fiddlesticks! When did lovers ever heed them?" she asked, in a rapid whisper, while Berkeley addressed a few words to Jocelyn, and while her dark and sparkling eyes flashed a glance that made me forget all. "Well, here are the cards of papa and mamma, with an express invitation to Chillingham. You will dine with us this evening, won't you?"
"With pleasure."
"Papa and mamma are to dine at the Priory, but on another day you shall see them."
"And the hour?"
"Eight."
"Eight!" I repeated, for that was the very hour of my appointment with Agnes Auriol, and the park lay in an opposite direction from the barracks. Here was a dilemma! But I resolved, if possible, to keep faith with both, and said--
"Excuse me, pray; but on reflection I find it impossible to be present at that hour."
"Indeed!"
"But I shall present myself soon after in the drawing-room."
"What prevents you?" she asked, raising her dark eyebrows.
"Duty, unfortunately."
"In that case I must excuse you. Allegiance to me should not precede that which you owe to the Queen. Till this evening, then, adieu."
She presented her hand, and bowed with inimitable grace. I took it in mine, and lingering, would, I am sure, have kissed it, but for the troop close by, and dozens of idlers who were lolling at the barrack windows in their shell-jackets or shirt-sleeves. There was a glorious smile on her bright face that contrasted strongly with the sad and wistful glance of Cora's soft dark eyes; and, as the phaeton swept away from the barrack-square, I forgot to bid adieu to Berkeley, though I wished him in very warm quarters indeed. I forgot even to address Cora, or rejoin the troop. I forgot all about Studhome's letter and its import; and, leaving Jocelyn to finish the drill as he pleased, walked mechanically to my quarters, filled by a great revulsion of feeling, and remembering only that Louisa loved me--loved me still! Of that day's close could I have foreseen the end! I counted the hours that intervened between the time that I should be at the park. I resolved, if possible, to leave nothing undone to gain the good opinion of the earl and countess; and, on after thought, I regretted that I had excused my appearance at dinner, and believed that I might have paid my last visit to the cottage at the Reculvers an hour or so earlier, and performed my task of philanthropy, even at the risk of being seen; though, sooth to say, I rather dreaded that event, circumstanced as I was with Louisa; and since the clouds that lowered upon my horizon were dispersed now, the unfortunate victim of Berkeley could be of no further use to me.
Berkeley had been watching my interview with Louisa narrowly, and took in our whole situation at a glance, or thought he did so.
He feared that Lady Louisa's gaiety was a little too spasmodic to be real, in one who was usually calm and reserved; and, hence, that it cloaked some deeper emotion than met the eye. My sensation at her appearance, and during the whole interview, must have been apparent even to a less interested spectator than Berkeley, and his whole soul became stirred by emotions of jealousy, rivalry, and revenge!
Having had the full entree of Chillingham Park for the last month and more, he had, as he conceived, made a fair lodgment, to use a military phrase, in the body of the place--that he had the cards in his own hands, and should lose no time in discovering how Lady Louisa was affected towards him.
Cool, vain, insolent, and unimpassioned, this blase parvenu thought over his plans while the phaeton rolled along the Canterbury Road; and the aristocratic aspect of the coroneted gate and castellated lodge, the far extent of green sward stretching under the stately elms, closely shorn and carefully rolled--sward that had never been ploughed since the days, perhaps, when the Scot and Englishman measured their swords at Flodden and Pinkey, kindled brighter the fire of ambition with him, and made him resolve at all hazards to supplant me.
One fact he had resolved on--that, though the days of bodily assassination had gone out of English society, or existed only in the pages of sensational romance, if he failed to obtain Louisa Loftus, that I should never succeed.
*CHAPTER XX.*
Not thus the shade may pass,
That is upon thy heart,
There is no sun in earthly skies
Can bid its gloom depart;
For falsehood's stain is on it,
And cruelty and guile--
And these are stains that never pass,
And shades that never smile.
MISS LANDON.
The mansion of Chillingham is one of the stateliest in that part of England.
It consists of a great central block and peristyle, with two wings coming forward, forming a species of quadrangle. Detailed in the taste that existed about 1680, and erected by the second peer of the house, who had been created an earl at the Restoration, it was built entirely of red brick, save the eight Corinthian columns of the peristyle, the great flight of steps that ascended thereto, the elaborate cornices, corners, balustrades, and vases, which were all of white freestone, and in the style that is denominated Palladian.
Elaborately carved within the central pediment are the arms of the Loftus family--a chevron engrailed between three trefoils, supported by two eagles; the crest a hand grasping a battle-axe, with the motto, "Prend mot tel que je suis," or "Take me as I am."
It occupies a gentle eminence in the centre of the spacious park, and every embellishment has been added around to make the natural beauties of the somewhat flat and peaceful scene to harmonize. Though equally aristocratic in tone, it is very different in aspect from the bold and quaint, gloomy, embattled, and romantic mansion of Calderwood, with its turrets and loopholes for bullet or arrow; and is, in fact, a style of edifice almost entirely peculiar to England and Holland.
Cora and Berkeley were as yet the only guests at the park, and on handing the ladies from the phaeton, he begged a few minutes' interview with Lady Louisa, in the library or the conservatory, whichever she pleased, after luncheon.
She coloured deeply, almost with annoyance, at a request so odd, and looking at her watch, said--
"We lunch at two. Papa and mamma are in Canterbury; I have letters to write, but shall be in the library at six--that is, two hours before dinner."
"Thanks; after we have tiffed then," said he, lifting his hat, and passing after her and Cora into the marble vestibule, with a self-satisfied smile.
"What on earth can the man have to say in such a solemn fashion, Cora?" whispered Louisa.
"I cannot conceive," replied my cousin, thinking of something else.
The luncheon, at which those three were present, with a great whiteheaded and white-waistcoated butler, and three powdered and liveried servants in attendance, passed over almost in irksome silence, for all were fully occupied by their own thoughts or plans.
Berkeley, who gazed at Louisa from time to time with ill-concealed admiration and gratified vanity, felt that the absence of the earl and countess at this interesting juncture boded well for his success, opportunities for a tete-a-tete in that usually numerous and always aristocratic household being few and far between.
Lady Louisa, who more than half divined her admirer's hopes, was full of her brief and hurried interview with me, and, in anticipation of a scene, felt bored and worried; while poor Cora's thoughts were all her own; a little--no, it was a great sorrow, which none could know or sympathize with, filled her heart in secret, for she was not communicative, and thus, while she shared all the confidences and gossip of my Lady Louisa, gave but little of her own in return.
So the progress of tiffin was "dooced slow," as Berkeley thought it, and he felt somewhat relieved when Lady Louisa rose, and, with a smile, said to Cora--
"Excuse me, I am now going to write my letters;" adding to him, "I shall not forget," with another smile that, could he have read it aright, boded but little success to his cherished plans.
Punctually to the time, Lady Louisa sailed into the library, where Berkeley, whose courage had been alternately ebbing and flowing, was in waiting. He handed her a seat, and, after a few deprecatory remarks, by way of preface, took her right hand between his own, and, as she did not immediately withdraw it, he assumed fresh courage, and made a formal declaration of his love and admiration of her, and then, before she could speak, he rambled on about his finances, his social habits, his income--some six thousand per annum--his further expectations, and a great deal more to the same purpose.
Lady Louisa remained perfectly silent, and this silence, as he had nothing more to say, caused him infinite confusion.
"You do not speak--you do not answer, dear Lady Louisa. Do you not understand me? I tell you that I love you with all the devotion of which the human heart is capable, and I pray you to pardon the--aw, aw--presumption of one in every respect so unworthy of you, in venturing to address you in the language of love; but who can control the--aw--emotions of the heart!"
Still she did not speak.
"Say that you pity--say that you--aw--understand me!" he urged.
"I understand, but cannot pity you," replied Louisa, calmly and without betraying the slightest flutter or embarrassment. "And I beg to assure you that--that, in this matter, you must----"
"Address the earl, your father, dearest Lady Louisa--aw, aw--in writing, or verbally?" was the cool and rapid question.
"Neither verbally nor in writing," said she, rising, and assuming a dignity of bearing that made Berkeley feel himself intolerably little.
"Aw, aw--the dooce! Then how?" he asked, having recourse to his eyeglass.
"I was about to say that I thank you, Mr. Berkeley--thank you very much indeed--for the great honour you do me in addressing me thus, and in making me such an offer; but you must strive to dismiss all such thoughts from your breast in future, as I could never, never love you! Pardon me an avowal so very painful, and permit me to leave you."
Her coolness, and almost unmoved bearing, piqued Berkeley, and wounded his self-esteem, which was inordinate.
"Your bridal flowers," said he, with a bitter smile, "must be blended with the faded strawberry leaves of some Anglo-Norman line, I presume?"
"Not so, sir. I have hopes, I admit, but they are not quite so high," she replied, with a calm and steady glance, though her short upper lip quivered with suppressed pride and anger.
"In--deed!" sneered Berkeley, as his habitual insolence came now thoroughly to his aid; "and so you once and for all actually refuse me, Lady Loftus?"
"I grieve to say, sir, that I do--once and for ever. Let us endeavour to forget this very unpleasant scene, and, if possible, be as before--friends."
"And for whom do you refuse me?" he demanded, as pride and jealousy rendered him blind to all future consequences.
"For whom, sir, matters not to you."
"I think it matters very much to me."
"Perhaps; but permit me to remind you, Mr. Berkeley, that I am unused to be questioned thus."
"Oh," said he, bowing low, "doocid good. I--aw--crave your pardon; but if you will not tell me your preference, Lady Louisa, shall I have the honour of telling you?"
"If you please," she replied, turning half away, and shrugging her shoulders, while her colour deepened, and her dark eyes gleamed with sudden anger.
"It is for one who is even now, perhaps, with a worthless creature, whose society he prefers to yours--haw! haw! the cast-off mistress of a brother officer!"
"It is false, sir!" she exclaimed, in an agitated voice, as she turned her flashing eyes full upon him, and drew her tall and glorious figure up like a tragedy queen; "it is false, and cannot be."
"Oh, no, it is not false, my dear madam; but unfortunately, is--aw--too true."
There was a pause, during which they regarded each other steadily.
"Why could he not dine here at eight this evening?" asked Berkeley.
"Because duty required his attendance elsewhere, if it is Captain Norcliff to whom you refer, sir; but I shall no longer bandy words here with you."
"Duty--doocid good! At that very hour this evening--eight--we shall find them together, if you choose to accompany me."
"I, sir, accompany you?" she repeated, disdainfully.
"Yes."
"To where he is--with her?"
"Yes."
"Dare you make such a proposition to me?"
"I do dare," he replied, with blind fury; "and I tell you further, Lady Louisa Loftus, that this fine and moral young gentleman, Captain Norcliff, has an affair with a girl well known to all our mess; as the French, happily would term her, une femme entretenue, of a brother officer--one who has a doocid flaw in her fair fame, and most decided kick in her gallop," he added, coarsely and maliciously, determined at all hazards to ruin me with Louisa, and even with my uncle and cousin, though he could gain nothing thereby.
"And you, his friend, tell me of this!" exclaimed Louisa, with withering scorn in her manner, as she played nervously with the rose diamond ring I had given her.
"Will you and Miss Calderwood accompany me this evening to the cottage near the Reculvers, and I shall have the pleasure of showing you how our modern Captain Bailey solaces himself in 'country quarters.'"
At the mention of this cottage Lady Louisa started, and changed colour visibly, and it was then Berkeley's turn to smile, for certain odd rumours concerning it and its beautiful occupant had reached her through the servants at the park, and more particularly her own attendant; but recollecting her position, she said, loftily and decidedly, while cresting up her haughty head--
"'Tis false, sir! I am indisposed to act the spy, and he will not be there."
"Oh, yes, he will be there, be true as a turtle-dove--exact as--haw--the clock at the Horse Guards. We shall find him mingling his tears with those of the Traviata; a philanthropic Howard in a lancer uniform--a very Joseph--haw--haw--'a man of snow?'"
"Sir!" exclaimed Lady Loftus, stamping her little foot.
"He's been devilish hard up of late--got fifty pounds this morning from the paymaster--so his man told mine; the girl's a dancer, and every one knows they are doocid expensive cattle to keep and shoe."
"Sir, you forget yourself!" exclaimed Lady Louisa, while her eyes flashed with an expression of rage, which even her long lashes failed to soften. "Papa and mamma are to dine at the Priory--so this evening I am free, and you shall drive us, that is, Miss Calderwood and me--to that odious cottage, and with my own eyes I shall prove who is false, you or he!"
"Agreed, I am quite at your disposal," said he, bowing low.
And so ended this singular interview. So ended Berkeley's hopes of all but gratified malice, and they separated, each with anger against the other sparkling in their eyes, and burning in their hearts.
Louisa at once sought Cora, and related all that had passed--the abrupt proposal and its singular sequel--little knowing that the latter portion of her narrative, like a double-edged sword, cut two ways at once, and how her words stabbed poor Cora to the heart; for the good girl would rather have heard that I was steady and faithful in my regard for her brilliant rival than that I was the creature Berkeley had striven to make me appear.
"I have loved your cousin Newton too much to cease doing so now, unless I find him unworthy, when I shall thrust his image from my heart as if I had never seen or known him! and I feel, Cora Calderwood, that I must either love or hate him!" exclaimed Louisa, with a strange energy that quite startled the quiet Scottish girl. "I have a craving to learn his truth or his falsehood, personally and undoubtedly. So you shall come with me, Cora. 'Tis only your cousin you seek!"
"Louisa Loftus," she exclaimed. "I cannot, and will not, believe, in this duplicity or depravity of my cousin Newton."
"We shall go to this vile woman's cottage, dear, in secret, and learn the truth for ourselves."
"Even at the risk of appearing guilty of espionage?"
"At all risks!" was the impetuous reply. "That cottage by the Reculvers! Aha! I remember that mamma's soubrette said something about the young person who resides there with an old woman, her mother, or aunt, or something equally veritable and creditable; and added that no one was ever known to visit her, save a gentleman like an officer--mark that, like an officer--who usually came on horseback, and at night."
"Oh, Louisa, you do not--you cannot--you shall not believe all those slanders about dear Newton," said Cora, vehemently, in a passion of tears, as she threw herself on the heaving bosom of her more fiery and energetic friend, who, however, wept also. "Did you not remark how pale, almost haggard, poor Newton looked when we saw him with his troop to-day?"
"Well, perhaps nocturnal rambles and late rides from the Reculvers----"
"Now peace, Lady Loftus, if you would not break my heart," exclaimed Cora, arresting a cutting remark by a kiss on her rosy and tremulous lips.
About twilight the pony phaeton again set forth from Chillingham Park with the two young ladies. There was no outrider in attendance on this occasion; and their well-cloaked charioteer was Mr. De Warr Berkeley, who was very silent, to whom they never spoke, and who, to tell the truth, felt somewhat ill at ease now, and scarcely knew where the whole affair would end.
One fact he was certain of. He knew, from past experience, and my general character when serving in India, that I was not to be trifled with.
He would, perhaps, have backed out of the whole matter, could he have seen how to do so. Then Louisa was inflexible, though Cora was almost passive.
The ladies felt that, even were the information true, they should not the less hate and despise the informant, who gratified his spite and malice at the expense of a friend on the one hand, and of their peace on the other.
"We are doing wrong, dearest Louisa," Cora whispered, as the ponderous park gates clanked heavily behind them, and they bowled along the darkening road, towards where the spires of Canterbury were visible against the flush that lingered in the sky to the westward.
"I know that in one sense we are so," replied Lady Louisa, through her clenched teeth and closely-drawn veil; "but I am not the less determined to solve this matter, to probe it to the utmost, and to convict Captain Norcliff or Mr. Berkeley of perfidy. So take courage, and allons, my love!"
As they proceeded the April twilight deepened. Once or twice Cora spoke of returning; and then it was Berkeley who urged them to proceed.
"Aw--haw, doocid absurd--don't hang fire now, ladies, please," said he. "We shall draw the cover directly."
Yet he was not without unpleasant misgiving as to how he might figure after "the cover" was drawn, unless he could convey the ladies away instantly, before explanations took place, and this was a part of his intended programme.
"After having convincing proof that Captain Norcliff is here, you will, of course, not remain--aw--to upbraid, and all that sort of thing, Lady Louisa?" he asked, rather nervously.
"Proceed, sir, but do not question me," was the haughty response, which made his cheek flush with rage in the shade. For now Lady Loftus remembered, and felt fully, that in her anger and confusion she had been completely thrown off her guard; and that she had revealed and acknowledged our mutual engagement, and her passion for me, to Cora Calderwood (who had always suspected it), and, worse than all, to Berkeley, whom she heartily despised, and who, she feared, might make a dangerous use of the information he had won.
She had also been lured into committing an act of espionage, far from proper or becoming. But, nevertheless, she resolved to go through it now, and to probe the ugly affair to the end at all hazards--even to facing the fiery anger of her mother, the lofty indignation of the earl, and the vacant and senile astonishment of my Lord Slubber.
"How strange it is, Cora," she whispered, as they sat hand in hand, "that one impulse leads me still to love Newton, and yet another impulse lures me to hate him! Where is my constitutional, and where are my family pride and womanly modesty, when I stoop to an act like this, and drag you, poor child, into it, too? Oh, I must love him very much surely--and you, Cora--you----"
"I love him, too," was the calm and breathless response, under the closely-drawn veil.
"Of course you do--he is your cousin, and your old playmate."
Cora assented only by a little sigh.
They both, it appeared afterwards, hoped desperately that Berkeley might yet be mistaken in the whole affair, so far as I was concerned, for they felt bitterly the truth of the maxim, that "faith once destroyed is destroyed for ever, unless in a heart which is in itself intrinsically faithless."
In the dusk tears rolled unseen down the gentle face of Cora; but Louisa suppressed all appearance of emotion by biting her nether lip, and clenching her little white teeth, like the heroine of a French melodrama.
"Here we are at last! Hush! let us approach softly," said Berkeley, as they drew near the little cottage where Miss Auriol resided; and he turned the phaeton into a grassy lane, and between high hedges close by; threw open a private wicket, and assisted Cora to alight; but disdaining the assistance of his proffered arm, Lady Louisa sprang to the ground alone.
"This way--follow me, and softly, if you please," said Berkeley, as he drew forth a private latch-key for the back door--a means of entrance possessed by himself alone--and they traversed the little flower-garden which lay around the cottage.
My horse stood at the front door, with his bridle fastened to the porch; and to this circumstance he took care to draw their attention.
"It is Norcliff's black nag--his cover hack with the white star on the counter. You--aw--recognise it, ladies?" he whispered.
"A present to him from my poor papa," said Cora, reproachfully, as her heart beat painfully, and Louisa bit her lips as the agony of conviction stole upon her.
"Proceed, sir," said she, haughtily; "what next?"
"Voices in the parlour--it is there our birds must be; this way," said Berkeley, who, after a rapid inspection of the interior, between the green trailers, scarlet-runners, and white muslin curtains, had satisfied himself as to who were within, and felt assured that if he lost Lady Louisa, I, at least, should never win her, and that if, on one hand, he made me an enemy, on the other, he got handsomely rid of the unhappy girl of whose caresses he had long since grown weary, and whose importunities and reproaches bored and fretted him now.
Between him and me there would be no friendship wasted, no love lost; so he consoled himself by the dangerous maxim, "that all is fair in love or war," as he opened the door softly with his latch-key, and led his now agitated companions into the interior of the cottage.
*CHAPTER XXI.*
Such men are always the most unscrupulous in revenge. I have seen murder in his eyes a score of times in the last fortnight. If our lines had fallen in the pleasant Italian places, he would have invested twenty scudi long ago in hiring a dagger. As it is, civilization and the rural police stand our friends.--GUY LIVINGSTONE.
The day wore away, the shadows of evening came, and all unaware of the rod that was in pickle for me, and the awkward surprise that was preparing, after making a most careful toilet at the barracks, that I might keep my cherished appointment at the park, I stuffed Mr. Goldrick's remittance into my porte-monnaie, and set out in mufti for the cottage near the Reculvers. As I cantered along, anxious to perform my duty there, and without loss of time to turn my bridle towards Chillingham Park, I contrasted the happiness and the hopefulness of Louisa's love and mine with the futile passion which the poor lost Agnes Auriol cherished for the worthless Berkeley; and while my heart, inspired by new and joyous impulses since the morning interview, sincerely mourned for her, it was at the same time soothed by the conviction that I could enable her to depart on that melancholy and filial pilgrimage to which she had dedicated her failing--it too surely seemed her last--energies.
I half hoped, too, that I might hear no more of her and her sorrows, and with the varied contingencies of foreign service in the field before me, there were ten chances to one against my ever doing so.
I had more than once asked of myself why this unfortunate young lady so deeply interested me; and with what object, if not pure benevolence, and to learn something of Berkeley's movements, I sought or continued her acquaintance.
To Louisa my love and constancy remained unshaken; and fanned anew by the morning's interview, they were stronger now than ever. Yet, to-night, some strange impulse urged me on this secret visit--one that I had already resolved should be the last---when prudence should have made me pause, and even at the hazard of wounding Miss Auriol's feelings, have sent by the hand of Willie Pitblado the promised money to Mrs. Goldsworthy.
Berkeley, from the first hour we met together at the mess of the lancers, I had ever disliked, and I scarcely knew why; but, like the Chevalier Achille, I felt that, "if I had a star of destiny, and that man another, my star grew livid and pale when his crossed it." It was the old adage of Dr. Fell, and I had a conviction that he was predestined to work me mischief in some way, or in some fashion, and now the time had come.
I reached the cottage, left my horse at the little green trellis-work porch, and was duly ushered into the presence of Miss Auriol by her anxious and motherly old attendant. She was seated in an easy-chair, half propped up by pillows, and so great was the languor oppressing her, that on this evening (for the air was remarkably close) she could scarcely rise to greet me.
A small scarlet shawl was spread over her head; and its bright hue, when taken in concert with the extreme pallor and purity of her complexion, and the blackness of her smoothly banded hair, made the girl's strange beauty more fascinating and piquante than ever.
There was a charm in her half blush, her smiling bow, and the timid grace with which she received me, which made me feel that, with all the faults of the past, there was a great degree of worth and sincerity in Agnes Auriol still, and that she merited a very different fate in life; but, anxious to keep my appointment at the park, I at once handed her the porte-monnaie containing the money, and without accepting the chair proffered to me by Mrs. Goldsworthy, or even laying aside my hat, I said--
"Miss Auriol, I have come in great haste, and am required elsewhere, almost at this moment. There you will find what you require for your purpose and immediate necessities."
"Captain Norcliff, this kindness is too much--too much. Nurse Goldsworthy told me that you had promised this gift; but I--I know not if I should accept--if I dare accept it from you----"
Tears choked her utterance, and then came on a paroxysm of her hard, dry, and racking cough.
I placed a hand caressingly on her head, and advised her to be careful of her health, for that terrible cough----"Is all the hope I have now of ultimate relief," said she, looking up, with her dark eyes swimming in tears, and with a sublime brightness in them. "My dear mamma died of consumption, and with just such a cough; so did all my little brothers and sisters; and the presentiment is strong within me that I shall join them ere long--hence my wish, to die near the place where they lie."
"You must not talk in this mournful way, Miss Auriol--you are too beautiful and too young to court such an early fate," said I.
"Yet my little golden-haired brother, for whom I toiled and starved myself amid the vast and selfish wilderness of London, died earlier. Oh, Captain Norcliff, I would that he and I had passed away together, and now one grave might have held us; but then I had Berkeley to live for--he had not as yet deceived me. Love gave me hope, and I had my father's fair name to redeem. I shall die soon--I know and feel it. Consumption was my only inheritance, and the agony of mind I have so long endured, since my days of toil and sin, has but served to encourage and develop that terrible disease."
As she said this, her teeth chattered, as if with cold, and I turned her chair nearer to the scanty fire that burned in the little grate.
"And this money, which you, sir, so kindly give me; I know not, as I said before, whether I should accept it--indeed, I should not----"
"Nay, don't offend me by a refusal," said I, taking her cold and slender fingers in mine, and closing them over the packet of notes.
"But, sir--sir," she urged plaintively, "even if I am spared to live a few years, I shall never be able to return it."
"Heed not that, Miss Auriol--you may outlive me; the end of this month will see me far away from Britain."
She gazed at me earnestly and wistfully, and said--
"Heaven bless and protect you, sir! My last prayers shall be for you and for your safety," and bowing her face upon my hand, she kissed it and wept, while I strove in vain to withdraw it; but at the same time placed the other kindly on her head, to soothe and reassure her.
At that moment the door of the little parlour was thrown violently open, and a cry of terror escaped Mrs. Goldsworthy. I looked up, and felt as if I had been thunderstruck.
There stood Lady Louisa Loftus, and Cora, and Berkeley. Those three here! I mentally wondered who the deuce would come next.
I drew hurriedly back from Miss Auriol, who looked up in alarm, and then her eyes wandered in bewilderment from the faces of her fair visitors, till they settled with a sad, haggard, and beseeching stare, upon the well-moustached face of Berkeley, who stood there with his usual unmeaning smile.
"Doocid good tableau--haw!" he muttered.
"So--so this is the duty which prevented us from having the pleasure of your company at dinner, Captain Norcliff?" said Lady Louisa.
"A pressing duty, doubtless," added Berkeley.
"Whence this intrusion?" I demanded, perceiving the whole network of treachery at a glance. "Whence this intrusion, Mr. Berkeley?" I fiercely reiterated, while my heart swelled with passion at my equivocal position, and I felt that my life, certainly the loss of Louisa's love, might pay the penalty of my supposed, and, for aught I knew, alleged intrigue with a poor creature whom I simply pitied.
I felt that I was outwitted and overmatched by a cold-blooded, cunning, and sarcastic parvenu; one of those padded and perfumed military snobs, who are among her Majesty's worst bargains, and who excite alike the contempt of the soldier and the ridicule of the civilian. I felt, too, all the peril of my position, and almost quailed before the strange, wild glitter of Louisa's eyes, as she surveyed me. They wore such a smile as might have lit up those of Judith, when she writhed her white fingers in the curly pate of the sleeping Holofernes.
"Did you hear me speak, Mr. Berkeley?" I thundered out.
"Aw--aw----" he was beginning.
"He will absolutely fight for this creature!" said Louisa, "Poor Cora, I am sorry that you have to blush for your worthy cousin."
Instead of blushing, poor gentle Cora wept profusely, and knew not what to think; terror seemed to be her prevailing emotion.
"What am I to understand by all this?" I resumed. "You here, Lady Loftus, and you, Cora? Mr. Berkeley's visit I might expect; but your appearance here, ladies, and at this hour, is not involuntary. Speak--explain--or rather, sir, I shall seek another place and time, and if--as I too surely believe--this scene has been planned and developed by you, Mr. Berkeley, woe to you, for your life shall pay the penalty."
He grew pale, and winced a little, and then resumed his eternal smile.
"Such a scene to figure in!" said Louisa, with lofty scorn; "but this cottage shall be pulled down--it stands on papa's land; and the steward should be careful whom he permits as tenants in the vicinity of Chillingham Park."
Crushed to the dust by shame, humiliation, and illness, poor Agnes Auriol covered her face with her handkerchief, on which the blood-spots increased with every fresh fit of coughing, and her old nurse, oblivious of us all, spread her fat arms caressingly and protectingly round her; but the hateful Berkeley looked coldly and pitilessly on.
"Hear me, Lady Louisa," said I; "and a few words will serve to explain why I am here."
"Oh, your purse in that creature's hand explains all, sir!" she replied, with a cutting smile.
"Oh, Newton, Newton!" sobbed Cora; "it seems all too true--why should you give that girl money?"
Berkeley was the object on which I should have turned; but Lady Louisa fascinated me, and her presence and Cora's alone prevented me from knocking him down, or giving him a cut across the face with my riding-whip. Louisa was, indeed, a picture!
Drawn up to the fullest extent of her tall figure, she stood with her stately head thrown well back, and her rounded form half turned away, as if in disdain. An ample Indian shawl of alternate black, gold, and scarlet stripes had half fallen from her shoulder; her dress--she had been preparing for dinner when she started on this unlucky and unseemly errand--a bright, maize-coloured silk, with trimmings and flounces of rich black lace, displayed the magnificent development of her bust and lithe waist, and accorded well with her complexion. Her haughty nose, with its slender pink nostrils, seemed to curl with anger, and her forehead appeared lower than usual, so heavily fell the rippling masses of dark hair over her face, which was paler than ever, though the blood did flow furiously under that transparent skin as her anger gathered.
Her lips, usually scarlet as the petals of the fuschia, were now colourless; the short upper one was defined and stern; the lower, full and pouting, trembled with the emotion which she strove to repress; and her glorious black eyes had in them a mingled expression of fierce anger, deep reproach, sorrowing love for me, and shame for the whole affair--such an expression as I hoped never to see in them again.
When her anger prevailed, it was no summer lightning that flashed from the dark eyes of Louisa--for even her great Saxon ancestor, Lofthus, who held that thanedom in Yorkshire, before England's conqueror came over at the head of his high-born housebreakers, had not a prouder or more fiery temper.
She gave me a deep, earnest, silent, and tearful glance, that said more than a thousand words, and, taking Cora by the hand, turned and retired from the cottage before I could speak--turned with the air of one alike convinced and resolved.
Berkeley, usually so cool and blase, had also a strange light in his eyes; but it was such a glitter as one might expect to see in the carbuncly orbs of the hooded snake; and having, evidently, no desire to be left with me alone, he turned rather precipitately and followed the ladies.
Just as he was leaving the cottage, however, I made a spring after him, and grasping his shoulder, wheeled him fiercely round until he faced me.
"Mr. Berkeley," said I, in the hoarse, low voice of concentrated passion, "to-night, at head-quarters, this matter shall be arranged for a meeting to-morrow. Your life or mine must be the penalty of this little sensation scene, which your infernal malice has so skilfully contrived!"
"Aw--aw--don't understand, unless you mean----"
"That you must meet me, sir," said I, as with my leather riding-glove I struck him full across the face; "meet me on other ground than this."
His eyes flashed now, and he grew very pale, while his fingers twitched convulsively; but, resuming his smile, he said--
"You are warm, Captain Norcliff--out of temper, and rude, in fact; but--aw--bah! people don't fight duels nowadays, in our service, at least. Since Munro of the Horse Guards fought that doocid duel with Fawcett of the 55th, a hostile meeting has become a hanging affair--a little matter for a coroner's jury and Calcraft's consideration. So--aw--keep your temper, and au revoir."
Lady Loftus and Cora, who had already sprung unaided into the phaeton, were calling upon him--upon him, and not upon me!--so he lifted his hat, with a bow of ironical politeness, and joined them, after which I soon heard the sound of the wheels die away in the distance.
For a moment I remained as if stunned by the suddenness and peculiarity of the whole affair; the next moment all my resolutions were taken.
I returned to the parlour, where Miss Auriol was still sobbing, but not violently--she was too weak for that.
"Mrs. Goldsworthy," said I, "you must have perceived the false position in which we have been placed to-night, and must be aware that I can return no more. Keep for Miss Auriol the money I have given her, and be as you have hitherto been, loving and faithful. So now good-bye."
I felt the impropriety and indelicacy of further protracting so unpleasant an interview, and, lightly pressing the passive hands of the girl and of her nurse, before either could speak I had left the cottage, and was in my saddle, spurring like a madman along the highway towards the barracks on the Thanet road, intent only on exposing Berkeley and avenging myself.
My subalterns, Frank Jocelyn and Sir Harry Scarlett, were too young and inexperienced to be consulted in the matter, so I resolved to start by the night train for Maidstone, and lay it before my older friends at head-quarters.
I gave my horse to my groom, Lanty O'Regan, and hurried to my rooms, and took out my pistol-case, as my only luggage. I felt hot, feverish, mad almost, and a goblet of well-iced champagne failed to soothe me. I heard the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the joviality of the hussar mess ringing through the open windows as I crossed the dark barrack square on my way to the railway station; but when I was about to issue from the main-guard gate Pitblado placed in my hand a little packet, which a mounted servant had just brought for me, and which seemed to contain a little box.
Trembling, I opened it by the light of the main-guard lantern, and found it to contain my ring--my famous Rangoon ring--returned.
I placed it quietly on the finger from whence I had drawn it when at Calderwood Glen, and thanking the sentry who held the lantern with some smiling remark, continued my way to the train, which soon bore me to Maidstone.
Though I knew it not, Berkeley was in another compartment of the carriage I occupied.
*CHAPTER XXII.*
Your words have took such pains, as if they laboured
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour:--
He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides; wear them like his raiment carelessly,
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill,
What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill!
TIMON OF ATHENS.
To write to Lady Louisa a full explanation of the affair was among the first of my resolutions; but would she believe me?--one against whom appearances, already, no doubt, coloured, distorted, and elaborated by Berkeley's cunning insinuations, were so strong?
Without a word of inquiry, or hearing any exculpation, she and Cora had retired together, and with him, under his requested escort. What fatal use would he not make of the time thus given him! On, on went the swift train; but to me even the express seemed a laggard to-night!
Alas! that she I loved so deeply should think so meanly of me, as she undoubtedly did now.
If I called Berkeley out, and shot him, risking and breaking alike the civil and military laws of the land, I knew that my uncle would forgive, and that Cora would weep for me; I knew how Louisa would nervously shrink from the publicity of such an affair; but I knew also that none of them would forgive me for an alleged liaison with a creature apparently so worthless as the cast-off mistress of another--a liaison by which I lost the love of one so brilliant as the heiress of Chillingham. Of all such transactions, the old fox-hunting baronet, the mirror of honour, had a great horror, and within the seas that wash our shores there was no nobler heart than his. As yet, I could not see the end of the affair; my heart was swollen, and my head giddy, with rage; I longed only for friendly advice, and swift vengeance! If the story reached the ears of Sir Nigel, and he cut off my allowance, my pay as a captain of cavalry of the line--to wit, fourteen shillings and seven pence per diem--even with the contingent allowance of seventy or eighty pounds per annum (for burials and repair of arms, &c.), would never support me, even on service, in such an expensive corps as ours; thus, if I was a ruined man, it was all through the wiles of Berkeley! Pecuniarily I could not remain, and to retire, sell, resign, or exchange for India at such a crisis, when war was already declared in Europe, would be only to court disgrace and destruction.
Under any circumstances, to "send in my papers" was social ruin. I would sell my troop, and follow the regiment as a volunteer lancer, rather than not go to the seat of war in the East; and all this dilemma, this vortex of tormenting thought, this agony of anticipated shame, united with the loss of Louisa Loftus, I owed to the machinations, the hatred, and the jealousy of the only man I really disliked or despised in the whole regiment. At last I reached the barracks (where the last trumpet of tattoo had long since sounded), and sought the quarters of Jack Studhome, whom, to my confusion, and somewhat to my annoyance, I found engaged with the colonel on military business. In fact, with the aid of a couple of decanters of very unexceptionable mess port, and a box of cigars, they were going over the "Description Book," which, for the information of readers not in the cavalry, I may mention is one of the sixteen ledgers kept by the regimental staff, being a register of the age, size, and description of the horses in each troop; the names and residence of the persons from whom they were bought, with the date of their purchase, and so forth, a column being appropriated for remarks, to show the manner in which each horse is disposed of.
"You here, Norcliff?" exclaimed Colonel Beverley, with surprise, as he closed the volume.
"Excuse me, colonel, I know that I should be at Canterbury; but I have ventured to head-quarters on a matter so very particular----"
"Now, Norcliff, what the devil is up?" interrupted Studhome, getting fresh glasses the while, and pushing the cigar-box towards me.
"Nothing wrong with your troop, eh?" said our lieutenant-colonel, lowering his eyebrows.
"No, colonel--a personal matter has brought me here," I replied, while they, perceiving that I was pale and agitated, exchanged glances of inquiry.
"We shall soon be off, Norcliff," said the colonel; "Travers and others have disposed of their spare horses; Scriven has sent his stud to Tattersall's; the drag we shall leave here with the depot. Wilford's yacht rides at Cowes with the symbolical broom at her masthead. I have been changing the dismounted men every three days, so that, come what may, all shall be perfect lancers when the complete mount arrives; and we have had the horses inspected once in each week by the veterinary surgeon, to ascertain whether there is among them any contagious disease, as that, you know, would play the deuce with us on service. Dragoons without horses (poor Beverley foresaw not the horrors awaiting the cavalry before Sebastopol) would be like rifles without locks. I also wish the corps to be supplied with water-decks, but cannot get them; and now, Norcliff, that you have drawn breath, empty your glass, and say in what manner we can assist you."
A piece of painted canvas, to cover the saddle, bridle, and girths of a cavalry horse, and sometimes pegged to the ground. The name of the corps was usually painted on the outside; and when the trooper was mounted for service, the deck was strapped over his portmanteau.
"You shall hear, colonel," said I, taking his proffered hand; "I sought Studhome to obtain his advice, as my oldest and one of my most valued friends in the regiment, and I shall gladly avail myself of yours, under the pledge of secrecy, as the name of a lady is concerned in what I shall have the honour to relate to you."
"Ah," said the colonel, throwing open his frogged surtout, and half closing his eyes, as he lounged on two chairs, with the air of one who waits and listens, "this prologue bodes something unpleasant."
Beverley's voice and manner were slightly affected, but withal were very pleasing. He was, as I have said elsewhere, a very handsome man, of middle age, with a keen dark grey eye, and close crisp hair, somewhat of a drawler in speech, but well and powerfully built, broad-shouldered, lean-flanked, and a good average dragoon officer. Under excitement his features and bearing changed; he became brief and rapid; his lips became decided, though his very black moustache concealed them.
I related succinctly the story of Miss Auriol, and the slanders concerning me circulated in Maidstone--slanders of which Studhome was quite cognizant; I adverted to my engagement with Lady Louisa, and detailed the trap I had fallen into, and the use Berkeley had made of it, adding that I had resolved to parade him--to call him out, and had told him so, face to face.
"Ah, and what did he say?" asked the colonel, knocking the ashes from his cigar with a jewelled finger.
"If you lived till the age of Methusaleh, Colonel Beverley, you would never guess."
"Well?"
"Putting his glass in his eye, he lisped out coolly, 'Bah! people don't fight duels now. In our service at least, since Munro's fatal affair with Fawcett, hostile meetings have been hanging matters.'"
The disastrous and reckless duel referred to--the last, I think, fought in our service--occurred in 1844, between the husbands of two sisters, in a quarrel about monetary matters--Lieutenant-Colonel David L. Fawcett, C.B., of the 55th Regiment, and Lieutenant and Adjutant Alexander T. Monro, of the Royal Horse Guards. The former was killed, and the latter, after suffering a short imprisonment, was restored to the service, but not to his regiment. The circumstances must be fresh in the memory of some of my readers.
"The greater pity, say I," continued Beverley.
"And he actually replied to you thus?" said Studhome.
"These were his words, or nearly so."
Beverley's brow knit, and a contemptuous smile curled his proud lip.
"Such cool impudence is delicious," said he, laughing.
"But the matter cannot end thus!" I exclaimed, impetuously.
"Of course not, my dear fellow--of course not. Yet if the affair comes before the mess or the public, how are we to keep the name of Lady Loftus out of it? Though he might relish the eclat of having his trumpery cognomen jingled with that of Lord Chillingham's daughter, and with yours, it is a very different matter for Lady Louisa. We must be cautious and circumspect, or we shall land you between the horns of a dilemma. Women make men's quarrels infernally complicated."
"I shall gladly avail myself of your advice, colonel, and Studhome shall act as my friend."
Jack summoned his servant by a rapid process peculiar to barracks, and despatched him to the main guard to inquire whether Mr. Berkeley had passed in.
The answer came promptly that he was in his quarters.
"How long has he been there?"
"About half an hour, sir."
"Egad, Norcliff, you have come by the same train from Canterbury," said the colonel, after the servant had withdrawn. "How if you had been in the same compartment?"
"I might have been tempted to throw him out of the window."
"Studhome, see Berkeley, and arrange this matter; but remember the honour of the regiment," said the colonel, "as well as that of your friend, for at all risks and hazards I will have no public scandal about us--no handle given to the wretched whipsters of the newspaper press, when we are on the eve of departure for the seat of war."
"Trust me, colonel," said Jack, as he lit a fresh cigar, donned his gold-laced forage cap very much over the right ear, took up his riding-whip from force of habit, and hurried away.
The time of his absence passed slowly. I was in a dilemma, out of which I did not clearly see my way; and the colonel continued to punish Jack's port, to smoke in silence, and peruse the "Description Book."
Deeply in my heart I cursed alike the amenities of civilized life and the laws of modern society, which deprived me of the means of swift and certain retribution, even at the risk of my own life and limbs. Such trammels, in these days of well-ordered police, luckily, perhaps, compel us to conceal our hates and animosities; to submit quietly to wrong, insult, and obloquy, for which the very laws that pretend to protect and guide us afford no due reparation; trammels that avail greatly the coarse, the cowardly, and the mean, who may thus sneer or insult with impunity, when in the old pistol days their lives would have paid the forfeit; and whatever may have been the folly, error, or wickedness of duelling as a system, there can be no doubt that, when men had the test of moral courage as a last resort, the tone of society was higher, healthier, and better, especially in the army. Then practical jokes, rudeness, and quizzing were unknown at a mess-table; while an open wrong or insult bore with it the terrible penalty of a human life.
By the rules of the service I knew that no officer or soldier could send a challenge to any other officer or soldier to fight a duel, lest, if a commissioned officer, under the pain of being cashiered; if a non-commissioned officer or soldier, of suffering corporal punishment, or such other award as a court-martial might inflict.
The penalties of the civil law I knew to be still more severe; and yet John Selden, one of England's most able, learned, and patriotic lawyers, says that "a duel may still be granted by the law of England, and only then. That the Church allowed it once appears by this: in their public liturgies there were prayers appointed for the duellists to say; the judge used to bid them to go to such a church and pray, &c. But whether this is lawful? If you make war lawful, I make no doubt to convince you of it. War is lawful because God is the only judge between two that are supreme. Now, if a difference happen between two subjects, and it cannot be decided by human testimony, why may they not put it to God to judge between them, with the permission of the prince? Nay; what if we should bring it down--for argument's sake--to the sword. One gives me the lie: it is a great disgrace to take it; the law has made no provision to give remedy for the injury (if you can suppose anything an injury for which the law gives no remedy), why am not I, in this case, supreme, and may, therefore, right myself?"
