CHAPTER XVI
PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE
Harriet Payne had made up her mind that she was the bearer of a lover'smessage; she expected her news to have a startling effect upon the womanshe had travelled so far to see, but she was disappointed. There came nocry from suddenly parted lips, there was no sign of agitation aboutBarbara as her hands idly played with the folds of her gown for a fewmoments; it seemed doubtful whether she realised the full meaning of themessage.
"What does your master expect me to do?" she asked, looking up after apause.
Harriet Payne may have rehearsed a scene in which she would be calledupon to soothe a stricken woman and speak comfort to a breaking heart.She had supposed that love was the same the world over, whether it wentin silk brocade or coarse homespun. She had apt phrases ready to meetthe expected, plenty of well-prepared sympathy to bestow, but she had noanswer for this quiet, deliberate manner, and remained silent.
"Perhaps you can help me to a decision by telling me more," saidBarbara. "You need not be afraid to speak."
"By Mr. Crosby's manner I thought you had some power, madam; I imaginedthat if you knew my master's position you would be able to help him."
"Who has accused Mr. Crosby of having anything to do with rebels?"Barbara asked.
"I cannot tell, but there is no doubt as to what he has done. It is wellknown that he has helped many of the rebels into safe hiding. There isanother who is doing the same, a highwayman called 'Galloping Hermit.'You may have heard of him."
"Is he, too, in Dorsetshire?"
"The country people speak of him; now he is here, now there, but--"
"Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?"asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her otherquestions.
"I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do notbelieve it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man tobe proud of. I would--"
"Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to takemuch interest in a highwayman."
"No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but ofmy master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you."
"It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must thinkwhat I can do. Are you remaining in London?"
"I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's assistant; Ishall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered.
"Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then."
"And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said thegirl.
When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara lookedat him, her eyes full of questions.
"Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby'sdoings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been inDorsetshire."
"You have seen him?"
"I have heard of him."
"I must try and help him though he is a highwayman," said Barbara."There can be no longer any doubt, Martin, that the two are one."
"Yet you will help him? How?"
"There is a way, a hard way, and I am not yet certain what it may meanto me, but it shall be done; yes, it shall be done."
As she turned to a window and looked down into the square, Martin sawthat there were tears in her eyes.
"Tell me, mistress. You have told me your troubles before now, and ithas not been always in vain."
"I will tell you later, Martin.".
"Perhaps it will be too late then," he answered. "Count the cost,mistress; is a highwayman worth the price?"
"That girl was right," said Barbara, turning a glowing face to Martin.There were tears in her eyes, but they had not fallen. "She was right;even a highwayman is a man to be proud of when he helps the sufferingfrom their brutal persecutors, as this Galloping Hermit is doing. Iwould sacrifice much even for a highwayman, and when he is GilbertCrosby, too--ah! Martin, I have had dreams, pleasant dreams. I am awakenow, they are only a memory, but, if need be, I will pay for them to theuttermost farthing."
"You will not tell me the price?"
"When I know it, and that will be to-morrow. Come to-morrow afternoon,Martin, unless you are going back to Aylingford at once."
"I shall come," he answered; but listen, mistress, there are more waysthan one of helping Gilbert Crosby. Do not pay too high a price. I wishyou would tell me with whom you are bargaining."
"To-morrow, Martin, and until then--"
"You would be alone," said Martin quietly, and then his figure suddenlystiffened, his hands were clenched until the muscles in them stood outlike whipcord, and his speech was quick and fierce. "Understand,mistress, no word you speak, no promise you may be compelled to give,binds me. No matter how fettered you may be, I am free to do as I will,and God help the man who seeks to work you evil!"
Barbara had seen him in many moods, known him as dreamer, jester,counsellor, and philosopher, always with an air of unreality in what hedid and said, always "Mad Martin," yet with strange wisdom and cunningin his madness at times. In this mood she had never seen him before. Hisface, indeed, the whole man, was changed. Madness must have got theupper hand entirely for a moment.
"Why, Martin, you--"
But he had gone. She had been too astonished to speak at once, and thedoor had closed before she could finish her sentence. The mood seemed topass quickly, too, for looking from the window, Barbara saw him crossthe square, the familiar figure, in spite of the conventional garmentswhich he wore in town and which suited him so ill. He could never be thereal Martin Fairley away from that tower in the ruins at Aylingford,Barbara thought.
Not without reason was Fairley's warning, for if a woman will make asacrifice she seldom counts the full cost. She must give generously,with both hands wide open, or not at all. Barbara did not think of thehighwayman, but of Gilbert Crosby, and for him she was determined tosacrifice herself. Dreams she had had, dreams which ended in happiness;now such an ending was impossible, but the man who had inspired thosedreams was still worthy the sacrifice. It was a woman's argument,absolutely conclusive to a woman. She had the power to help, and shemeant to use that power.
There was a brilliant company that night at Lady Bolsover's, andprobably Barbara Lanison had never appeared more fascinating. She hadbeen very careful to wear what became her best; she was bent onconquest, and so that she conquered fully and completely she reckedlittle how. Her beauty and her ready wit quickly gathered a crowd abouther, and not one of her enthusiastic admirers guessed that under hermerry speech and laughter was an anxious, sorrowful heart and a wealthof restrained tears. One or two, whose love and hope had made theirunderstanding of her keener, may have noticed that her eyes were sharpto mark each new guest who entered the room. There was someone sheexpected and for whom she was waiting. One man beside her looked at herquickly when Sydney Fellowes entered the room, possibly he had reason tosuppose that Fellowes loved her and might prove no mean rival, but itseemed evident that he was not the man expected to-night. SydneyFellowes bowed over her hand presently, murmured some conventionalphrase, and passed on; but from a corner, and unobserved, he watchedher. When she passed into another room he followed her at a distance,and took note of every man and woman with whom she talked. He saw thatshe was restless, for who was there who could understand her moodsbetter than he did? How often had he sat beside her, learning to readher thoughts in the blue eyes which were more beautiful than any othereyes in the world.
She was standing in the doorway between two rooms when he saw her startsuddenly, and, following the direction of her eyes, he saw Sir JohnLanison. He had just entered the room, and was explaining his presenceto his sister, Lady Bolsover, who was evidently surprised to see him. Heturned to greet several acquaintances, and then, seeing his niece,advanced towards her. He looked at her a little curiously, realising forthe first time, perhaps, how beautiful she was. Barbara's face hardenedfor a moment, but the next instant she smiled. This man was her enemy
,all the more dangerous because he was also her guardian, but it would bewise to keep him in ignorance of how fully she understood him.
"Your arrival is unexpected, sir."
"Yet not altogether unwelcome, I trust," said Sir John, treating herwith studied courtliness, a manner he could use to perfection. "I wasobliged to come to town, and could not refrain from coming to see you.You may guess why, perchance?"
"Has it to do with a young person in trouble?" asked Barbara.
Sir John looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you mean that girl who cameto the Abbey. Did she really travel all the way to London to see you? Iam surprised. She did not tell me her story, but I told her where youwere to be found, never supposing that she would come to you."
"She came, and I have heard her story," said Barbara.
"It bears a close relationship to many another young woman's story, Iwager," said Sir John with a smile. "Truly, I was not much impressedwith her. If I may be allowed to speak a word of warning, I should saybeware of her. She could lie easily, I fancy, with never a blush or theflicker of an eyelid to betray her. No, it was not about her I wished tosee you."
"Then, sir, I cannot guess," said Barbara.
"I wished to apologise," said Sir John. "As I grow older my ill tempergains on me, I fear. Thwarted, I am senseless enough at times to becomelike a bullying schoolboy, and I say the first outrageous things whichcome to my tongue--conduct worthy only of a harridan. It was so thatnight at Aylingford. You were entirely right, I was entirely wrong.Forgive me, Barbara."
"I forgive, yes, but you must not expect me to forget so readily," sheanswered. "Forgetfulness can only come with time, Sir John, you mustunderstand that."
"Perfectly. I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of being ill-temperedwithout having to pay the price for it. I only ask that you may not makethe price too heavy. When you choose to return to the Abbey you shallfind a welcome."
Sir John did not wait for any answer, nor had Barbara the opportunity ofthinking over what he had said just then, for the moment her uncle lefther another claimed her attention.
Still Sydney Fellowes watched her. It was evidently not her uncle forwhom she had been waiting. It seemed as evident that she was doomed todisappointment to-night. Fellowes was one of the last to leave, and itwas impossible that any other guest could arrive now.
Barbara dismissed her maid quickly, almost impatiently, that night. Shewanted to be alone. She expected to have done so much this evening,expected that she would have known her fate by now. She had faced theworst, she was prepared to pay the price, whatever it might be, alwayswith a hope that it would not be as bad as she anticipated. Everythingwas yet to do, the uncertainty was still hers; the delay gave her lonelyhours in which to realise all that this sacrifice might involve, andinvoluntarily she shrank from it. She was not less resolved, however,and there was an added incentive in the fact that the difficulties inher way were greater than she had expected. Sir John's arrival couldhave only one meaning; he must know, or had guessed, the real reason ofHarriet Payne's coming to the Abbey, and had immediately travelled totown to ensure that, if he could possibly prevent it, no help should begiven to Gilbert Crosby. His apology made no impression upon her, andshe believed him capable of committing any villainy to get his own way.Surely, after what had happened at Aylingford, she had ample reason forher opinion. How was she to meet his designs and defeat them? There wasonly one way, the full sacrifice of herself. She looked critically atherself in the mirror, dashed the tears from her eyes, and smiled,touched her hair that the curls might fall most becomingly, and turnedher head this way and that, coquetting with her own reflection.
"Can I smile so winningly that a man will think possession of me cheaplybought at any price?" she murmured. "I think so, I believe so. I willmake the bargain. Whatever beauty I have shall be staked against yourvillainy, Sir John; and I think the woman will win."
She was strong in her determination, yet she sobbed herself to sleep.
Not having been a frequent visitor at Aylingford Abbey in recent years,Lady Bolsover knew nothing about the company so constantly assembledthere, nothing about her brother's pursuits and interests. That he musthave fallen behind the times and become uninteresting, she took forgranted; nothing else was to be expected of one who resided constantlyin the country, she argued; yet she admitted to herself that Sir Johnlooked a fine gentleman as he passed amongst her guests, and was rathersurprised to find how full he was of town graces. After all, he was theowner of Aylingford, a circumstance which marked him as a man ofimportance, and some of the scandal which had been attached to his nameas a younger man had not died out. She heard one woman inquire who hewas, and, receiving an answer, say quickly, "_the_ Sir John Lanison, doyou mean?" The interest displayed rather pleased Lady Bolsover, forsurely fame, however obtained, was preferable to insignificance andnonentity. She therefore received her brother very graciously when hecalled on the following morning, and felt very contented that he shouldhave chanced last night upon such a brilliant evening, and must realisehow big a position his sister filled in the social world of London. Ifshe had been inclined to despise him for burying himself at Aylingford,she was conscious that he had never looked upon her as a very importantperson.
Sir John was full of flattery this morning. He regretted that his niecehad a headache, but it enabled him to have his sister to himself.
"A few days here, amongst men and women of wit and standing, would cureyou of your absurd love of the country," said Lady Bolsover.
"At least it has done wonders for my niece," he answered.
"Surely you have not come to drag her back into exile!"
Sir John smiled. It was evident that Barbara had not entered into anexplanation of her reasons for leaving the Abbey.
"No, I think she is in very good hands for the present. She appears tohave many admirers."
"Can you wonder at it? She is as pretty as a picture, and when such apicture has an exceedingly heavy golden frame--"
"My dear Peggy, you hit the centre of the target with the first shaft.For most of these admirers the frame is the chief attraction. In thisfact arises the difficulty of my guardianship."
"Barbara has spirit; you must not draw the rein too tightly or she willkick over the traces," said Lady Bolsover.
"Exactly, and show herself a true Lanison," said Sir John. "I propose tolet the reins hang very loosely indeed. Let her have her own way. Shewill find it so uninteresting not to meet with any opposition that shewill probably end in doing exactly as I wish."
"And to whom have you decided to marry her?"
Sir John held up his hand with his fingers apart.
"There are at least five to choose from," he said.
"All country bumpkins who affect outrageous clothes and delight in muddyboots?" inquired his sister.
"On the contrary, they are all lovers of the town, whole-heartedly forKing James, and with those convenient morals which go so far to make agallant gentleman."
"You pique my curiosity."
"Then I do you a service, and would not spoil it by satisfying thatcuriosity," said Sir John. "Watch Barbara, and you may see my littlecomedy in the playing, for some of these five are not infrequently yourguests."
Lady Bolsover found her brother entertaining, and it was late in theafternoon when he spoke of taking his leave.
"I will let Barbara know; she will like to see you before you go."
A servant was sent to inform Mistress Lanison of her uncle's departure,and in a few minutes he returned to say that Mistress Lanison was out.
"Out! Where?"
"I have made inquiries, my lady, but no one seems to know," said theservant. "Madam went out with her maid quite early this morning, butreturned shortly afterwards. A young person who came to see heryesterday came again to-day, just after noon, and it seems that MistressLanison went out with her. The maid left the house barely an hour ago."
Lady Bolsover looked at her brother, who glanced swiftly at the servant.Lady Bolsove
r understood, and told the servant to go.
"What can have happened?" she said as the door was closed.
"Nothing serious, I warrant, my dear Peggy. Like all you women, Barbarais enjoying some harmless intrigue. Do you mind that day at Aylingfordwhen I horsewhipped your first admirer? How old were you then?"
"But Barbara is--"
"Young," said Sir John, "and to indulge a frolic has taken advantage ofthe loose rein. You will find her in her room presently, with her headstill aching, but slightly better, and to-night she will be as radiantas a young Diana."
"I trust so."
"Take my word for it. Long residence in the country has not made meforget that I once understood women very well." And with a smile SirJohn departed.