CHAPTER XIV
AMANTIUM IRAE
"Curse my jacket," says the drunken fellow, "if this is not the firsttime I have kissed a wife in the presence of her husband."
"It shall be the last, sir," I hiccoughed furiously.
"What words are these to use before a lady?" says Mr. Fielding, amiablymeasuring out glasses of wine for the three of us. "If I were not themost easy man in the world, I vow and protest it should be coffee andpistols at five."
"By God, sir, it shall be whatever you are," says I, holding on by thetable. "I swear I will pup--punish you for this."
"Well, as you are determined to pup--punish me," says he, "here isanother glass of Tommie's claret, another hair of the dog that bit you,to confirm you in that meritorious resolve."
As he laughingly offered me the glass of wine, Cynthia came forward andtook it from him. But instead of giving it to me, she flung both thewine and the glass in his face. Whereon he stood with the claretdripping from his features, and the blood too where the broken glasshad cut his forehead, so that he made the very picture of his ownParson Adams, when he was assailed in a similar way by the hostess ofthe inn with the pan of hog's blood.
Poor Cynthia stood white and trembling, but she never once looked at mefor counsel or countenance. The tears were in her eyes too, but shenever uttered so much as a word of reproach, although I am sure hermisery was very great. I never felt such a mean villain and coward inmy life as I did then.
"Come," says she, "let us leave these--these people."
Here she threw such a glance at the sleeping justice that must havepierced him to the marrow had he but been conscious of it. By this,however, Mr. Fielding with the aid of his silk handkerchief had wiped agood deal of the wine and blood from his features, and stood staunchingthe wound on his forehead. A more truly whimsical expression I neverobserved in any man before. There was a highly comic look ofcontrition, humility, and self-abnegation in him, and withal an air ofthe most perfect good-breeding, that could not possibly have been morecontrary to his appearance. Although Cynthia was white and speechlesswith anger, and she had made what might easily have been construed intoa very unprovoked attack on a benefactor, Mr. Fielding behaved,whatever his faults, as only a true gentleman could have done.Cynthia's act had brought him to his senses; he saw that he had pushedthe matter too far; but after all he did not apprehend, as I moreshrewdly did, that the head and front of his offending lay, not so muchin his own conduct, as in that he had been the inspirer of mine.
"I crave a thousand pardons of you, madam," says he, "if I have been sounlucky as to carry a jest farther than a jest should go. Perchance itwas not conceived in quite the best taste at the outset; but at least Imake you all amends. I am sure I am your duteous humble servant,madam, if you will but permit me to be so."
Only a person with the instincts of a true gentleman could have shownsuch a punctilious regard for the feelings of another, and such adisregard for his own. For in a sense he had been deeply provoked, andhad suffered more indignity on his own part than any that he hadinflicted on Mrs. Cynthia. But no, my little madam refused to bemollified by his humble demeanour. She looked steadily past him, asthough he had ceased to be there at all. Upon that my own brief spiritof anger cooled down immediately; for certainly I thought, consideringhis unhappy plight, poor Fielding was playing a very gallant part.
"I think there is enough said, sir," says I, striving to speak asarticulately as possible. "I am sure you do very well; and I amequally sure that the apologies should not be all on your side."
Whereon we grasped the hand of one another, and were sworn friendsagain. Yet although Cynthia would not deign to notice my behaviour oneway or the other, on the other hand, greatly to Mr. Fielding'sdistress, she would not condone the conduct of that honest fellow. Herimperviousness hurt him the more, I think, because he did not apprehendthe true reason for it. She could have forgiven his having smoked herso badly, but what she could not forgive was that he had made herhusband drunk. I dare say it was that she was acting on the invariableprinciple that a woman will never own her lord and master in the wrongto a third person. And as she must vent her anger on some one, and shecould not very well vent it on me, the true culprit, Mr. Fielding wasmade to suffer vicariously.
"Come, Jack," says she haughtily, disdaining Mr. Fielding's repeatedsolicitude; "let us wipe the foulness of this disgraceful place off ourfeet. If daylight came and caught us in it, I could never respectmyself again."
The stress of these events had done a great deal for my sobriety. Iwas still acutely conscious of my condition, but I had recovered enoughof my wits to be able to battle with it successfully. That being thecase, I clearly saw that my little one was like to do a great injusticeto Mr. Fielding.
"Cynthia," says I, "I conceive you do not know what we owe to thegenerosity of this gentleman. Had it not been for his friendly officesI should have been still in the hands of the constables."
"I had rather you had," says she cruelly, "than that you should havepassed into his."
Not only was I hurt by such arbitrary behaviour; I was angered by ittoo. It seemed monstrous that so small a fault in a liberal charactershould be allowed to outweigh the essential goodness of it.
"Cynthia," says I, "I trust you will not refer to our benefactor inthese terms. He is far too good a friend of ours to merit yourreproaches."
Mrs. Cynthia lifted her chin again, and disdained to reply.
"Come," says I, "I would have you take back the expressions you haveused towards him. For I am sure no man merited them less."
"Never," says she.
"The lady is overwrought a little," says Mr. Fielding, coming gallantlyif somewhat unwisely to my aid. "Is she not weary and distrest? SirThomas, were he not otherwise engaged, would be delighted to place achamber at madam's disposal for the remainder of this evening. May Ihave the honour to do so in his name, for I am sure she is in a greatneed of repose?"
"I thank you, sir," says Cynthia coldly, "but I am surprised that youshould presume to propose a service that you must know, after what hathpassed, must be highly distasteful to me."
"You do the gentleman a great wrong," says I, with some heat. "And Iam sure, madam, when you look at this matter more reasonably, you willbe the first to acknowledge it. I thank you, sir, from the bottom ofmy heart for this kind offer, also for those other services you haverendered to us; and I beg to accept it of you, sir, in the name of mywife, in the spirit in which it is given."
I thought that some such speech was no more than Mr. Fielding's due,but the effect of it was greatly marred by Cynthia's unreasonableconduct. Drawing herself up into all the majesty of her five feetnothing, she bowed to us both in an imperious manner.
"I wish you a good evening, Mr.----, I did not catch your name," saysshe. "You also, my lord, as you choose to remain."
Before we could reply, or any attempt could be made to detain her, sheturned on her heel and swept forth of the room, straight out of thehouse into the black midnight. There was no other course open to mebut to follow her. But ere I did so, I clasped Mr. Fielding warmly bythe hand, again thanked him for his generous behaviour, and made somesort of an apology for that of Cynthia. He, good fellow, althoughevidently perturbed that he should have so distrest her, was yet verywarm on his part too, and as I was going out, slipped the only guineahe had in the world into my hand. I protested strongly and refused totake it.
"My dear fellow," says he, "you are ill-advised to refuse it. I knowwhat even that sum must mean to one in your condition, when the hand ofevery man is against you. To be sure by accepting it you will be aguinea better off than your benefactor. But at least I have a fewfriends left, however little I may merit them; and although it be evermy fate to have my character judged by those foibles that I am leastwilling to have it judged by."
Indeed he so insisted on my accepting this highly desirable guinea,that there was no other course than to take it, however reluctantly;for t
o have refused it might have seemed churlish. And Heaven knowsthat it is the last thing I would have risked after what had happened.
"Sir," says I, "I can wish no better than that we should meet again,and in happier circumstances. You have been a true friend, and I hopeI may live to requite you. And I hope, sir, you will think no more ofthe humours of my poor little wife; you who have shown such a knowledgeof the ways of her adorable sex will be the first to condone them inher. You will not forget, sir, that she hath lately been called on toendure a great deal."
"More than enough of that matter, my dear fellow," says he heartily.
I am sure he must have been hurt, but he was by far too true-bred agentleman to betray as much. I fear we were both still a little drunk,but I do not think the fervour of our leave-takings owed anything tothe heat of our brains. To this day I have always thought of this finespirit, this great master of the science of human nature, with the samedegree of affection. As for him, I do not suppose he ever gave me asecond thought, or if he did, I could be nothing more than a whimsicalcircumstance, a piece of romantical history. But at the time of ourparting, his pitiful, generous heart enabled him to feel a very realconcern for my welfare, and also for that of my wayward little one whohad treated him so harshly.
No sooner had I left Mr. Fielding waving his frank good-bye from thesteps of the house, than I set off running in hot pursuit of Cynthia.The gate of the porter's lodge at the end of the long dark avenue ofoverhanging trees was just closing upon her, when I overtook her. Shewas in too proud and defiant a mood to pay any attention to the factthat I had done so, and that I was walking greatly out of breath by herside.
I followed her implicitly into the weary darkness. I did not dare tobreak the dogged silence she maintained, and therefore maintained onetoo. For I had not walked a mile in the cool night air before I was assober as any man could be. And perfect sobriety brought a new shameand a fuller measure of repentance. Lord knows, I had been drunk oftenenough before; more completely and uproariously so; I had committed fargreater excesses in that state than any I had been guilty of thatevening; and yet now for almost the first time I conceived a disgustfor such a folly. Lord knows, I am so little of a pietist that thesense of humiliation which came upon me as I walked by the side of thesilent Cynthia was so foreign to my character, that I almost laughed atmyself for suffering it. Yet at the same time I was bitterly angrywith myself. No man's weaknesses could have led him to play a moreunworthy part.
As we walked mile upon mile on the dark, tree-shadowed highway that ledto anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere, there never was so moral a personas I outside the moral pages of Mr. Richardson. Self-abasement creakedout of my boots, self-reproach fluttered out of my brains,self-abnegation beat out of my heart. I forget the name of the MoralMuse; indeed, now I come to think of it, there is most probably nonesuch among them, for I fear they are baggages all. But in the name ofthe righteous lady, whoever she be, was there ever such a hang-dogrogue as I?--such a whipt cur with his tail between his legs?
Hours came and hours went, the steeples of neighbouring villagechurches chimed two o'clock, three and four, but still we wandered on,while never a word passed from one to the other. At times I feared mypoor little one was crying softly to herself, but I had not the courageto attempt to find out if that were so. Instead, my fingers wouldtighten on Mr. Fielding's guinea, whereon such a poignancy would beadded to my sufferings that I was tempted at times to cast his moneyincontinently to the road, as a heroic but not very intelligibleconcession to them, in the hope that I might purchase at that price amoment's surcease to my pains.