CHAPTER X.
A TALK WITH LORD DERWENTWATER. I ESCAPE.
"Lawrence!" he exclaimed, starting back at the sight of me, and with acry Lady Derwentwater came forward and took my hand. In truth, I musthave cut a sufficiently pitiable figure, for my dress was all fouledfrom head to foot, and my face, I have no doubt, the complement of mydress.
"The soldiers are after me," I gasped out.
"Ah! Jervas Rookley!" cried Lord Derwentwater, with a bang of his fistupon the table, the while his wife got me some brandy from asideboard. "But I warned you, Lawrence! I warned you, when I caughtsight of him in Keswick."
"I know," I answered. "But you did not warn me he was a traitor. Allthis while Jervas Rookley has been my steward at Blackladies."
"Your steward!" exclaimed Lord Derwentwater; "and you did not know."
"Nay," I replied, "it was not so much that But I would not know. Ipledged my word to him." With that I drank off the brandy.
"Oh, if you had only told me this!" he cried.
"I could not," I answered "I had but conjectures, and they were notenough to warrant me. There was but one fact in all the business whichwas clearly known to me: I had pledged my word to him."
"Nay," said Lady Derwentwater, and she laid a pitying hand upon myshoulder, "he was right, since he had given his word;" and I--why, Igroaned aloud and let my face fall forward on my arms. "Ah, poor boy!"she exclaimed. "All this day he has been out upon the hills, and herewe stand plaguing him with questions, when we should be ransacking thepantry. We deserve to be whipped."
She cautiously slipped out of the room.
But it was not any bodily want that troubled me so much as theunmerited kindliness of her tone and gesture. It wrought on me,indeed, with such a melting compulsion that had she remained withinthe room, I verily believe I should have blurted out that other story,with a "Withold your pity until it is deserved."
Lord Derwentwater locked the door behind his wife and began to walkabout the room.
"Lawrence," said he, "I am in some way to blame for this. But I didnot know the fellow was masquerading at Blackladies as your steward.He was disinherited, you know. But do you know why?"
"Because he was a Jacobite," I replied.
"Because he was a spy," cried Lord Derwentwater. "A spy--do youunderstand?--paid by the Government to worm himself into the Jacobitecouncils. I know, for his father told me, and told me on hisdeath-bed. Sir John was a Whig, you know, but an honest one and agentleman, and the shock the knowledge caused him, caused his death."
"A spy!" I exclaimed. "And I might have known! I might have known itat Commercy."
"At Commercy?" said he with a start
"I might have known it in mid-channel. It was the letter his handswere searching for;" and noticing Lord Derwentwater's perplexity, Irelated to him the whole story of Rookley's coming to Paris, thepromise I made to him there, the journey to Lorraine.
"You had speech with the King!" he exclaimed, "and Jervas Rookleyknew. You carried a letter----"
"In the King's hand, to the Duke of Ormond."
"And Jervas Rookley knew!"
"Ay, for he tried to steal it," and a great silence fell upon us both.We looked into each other's eyes; I know I held my breath. With aswift, stealthy movement, more significant to me than even the silencewas, he unlocked the door again and peered into the passage.
"We were speaking over-loud, Lawrence," he said, in a hushed whisper.
He was on the point of locking the door again, when Lady Derwentwaterreturned, bearing a loaded tray.
"It is a bad case you are in," said Lord Derwentwater. "You had bestfall to. It must not be known you were here to-night. I would gladlyhide you."
"Nay," said I, "I have brought you near enough to danger as it is."
He waved the remark aside.
"There is no sense in such talk between friends. But Lord's Island isno safe place for you. I am suspected; you are known for my friend.Here will they come first to search for you."
"But to-morrow," interrupted his wife, "not to-night"
"It were best he leave to-night," replied Lord Derwentwater.
"Ah, no, James," she returned, "it would be ill-usage in any case todismiss so easily a friend so hard put to it, and the worst usage inthe world towards Mr. Clavering. For look, what the boy most needs isa bed."
"And what if he were taken in it! That would be worse usage still.Anna, we cannot risk his life for the sake of our manners."
I seconded him in his advice, for though I was dropping with fatigue,and Lady Derwentwater's words called up I know not what sweet visionsof lavender sheets, I knew that at any moment the sheriff's messengermight come rapping at the doors. Lady Derwentwater accordingly said nomore, but betook herself to filling my glass and heaping up my platewith an air of such maternal tenderness as pierced me to the heart. Ifshe only knew, I thought--if she only knew what manner of man shetended on! And again I was very near to blurting out my story.
"There is one thing," said I, "which I do not understand. For ifRookley meant my ruin, why should he wait so long to accomplish it? Hehad the means to hand, the day that I set foot in England."
Lord Derwentwater stopped suddenly in his walk.
"You received my letter yesterday?"
"A letter?" said I. "No! What time of the day was it sent?"
"In the afternoon."
I remembered that I had seemed to hear the hoofs of a horse upon thedrive when I was in the parlour. Lord Derwentwater slipped out of theroom. In a little he came back with a scared face.
"The letter was handed to your steward," he said. "The man I sent wasa new servant, else he would have known who the steward was."
"But what was in the letter?"
"It was a message from Harry St John, enclosed in a letter which cameto me. It said the French King was dying, and no help was to beexpected from the Regent, who would follow him. It said the rising wasto be deferred."
"Then I understand!" I exclaimed, starting to my feet "I had promisedRookley to restore the estate when the King came to his own. So longas there was a chance of that, he would let me go free. But when thatchance failed, he might buy back Blackladies by selling me."
"Ay," said Derwentwater, "that is Jervas Rookley from top to toe. Hewould have one foot marking time with King George, and the otherstepping forward with King James."
And again he paced musingly about the room whilst I betook myself tomy supper. At last--
"I know," he said; and then turning to me, "I was thinking whither Ishould send you. There is old Ralph Curwen. You will be safe with himat Applegarth."
It seemed to me that I had heard the name before, but on what occasionI could not at the moment remember.
"He lives in Ennerdale," continued he; "an honest Jack, but he is old,and since his son died, has known little company beyond his books. Youwill be safe with him."
"Ay, but will he be safe with me?" I objected.
"No doubt of that He has taken no part in these quarrels of ours formany a day, and they will not look for you in Ennerdale."
He sat down and wrote a letter.
"I will send you thither," he said, "with a servant I can trust, andas soon as may be we'll get you out of England;" and he rose, hecrossed over to a table, and unlocking a drawer took out a littlediary.
"Let me see!" he said. "To-day is St. Bartholomew's Day. It may bethat I can send you across to France. Why, what ails you?"
"It is nothing," I replied hastily.
It was, indeed, the mere mention of the date which made me sway like aman falling and grasp at the table. To-day was St Bartholomew's Day.Then yesterday was the Eve, the Eve of St. Bartholomew. My thoughtswent back to the preacher I had heard in Paris and to the picture ofthe dead man speaking, who had seemed in my imagination to thunder outat me, "The Eve of St. Bartholomew."
Lord Derwentwater went from the room to give his orders, and tenminutes later I was being rowed acros
s the lake towards Silver Hilland watching two heads at the lighted window diminish into specks.
There was but the one man in the boat besides myself--LordDerwentwater's servant Tash. Accordingly, on disembarking in a littlewood on the west shores of Derwentwater, we drew the boat on to dryground, and striking up the hillside walked southwards along theslopes of Catbells and Maiden Moor. But for my part I took little noteof our direction. My head nodded on my shoulders, my feet stumbledbehind my guide's in a mechanic progression. Had he led me back intoKeswick town I should have followed him. I walked in a daze ofweariness, sensible of but two things in the world: one that the freshsmell of the grass and parsley-fern was every way as sweet as lavenderto lie in; the other that I must still walk on, since there wassomething to be done that I and I alone could do.
In the morning we moved yet higher up the slopes, and so walking eversouthwards past Dale Head Tarn and Honister, came to a lofty ridgebetween Grey Knotts and Brandreth about nine o'clock of the morning.There my guide called a halt, and pulling my hat over my eyes Iplumped down on the grass and slept without more ado.