Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "'It is most strange, madam ... that you should not becertain of the name of your husband.'" (Chapter XIII.)]
THE WAYFARERS
BY
J. C. SNAITH
Author of "Mistress Dorothy Marvin," "Fierceheart, the Soldier," "LadyBarbarity," etc
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO
1902
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I THE DEVIL TO PAY II LADY CYNTHIA CAREW III INTRODUCES A MERITORIOUS HEBREW IV WE START UPON OUR PILGRIMAGE V I VINDICATE THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. VI CONTAINS A FEW TRITE UTTERANCES ON THE GENTLE PASSION VII AN INSTRUCTIVE CHAPTER; IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IF A LITTLE LEARNING IS DANGEROUS, MUCH MAY BE CALAMITOUS VIII WE GET US TO CHURCH IX WE GO UPON OUR WEDDING TOUR X WE ARE BESET BY A HEAVY MISFORTUNE XI I COME A PRISONER TO A FAMILIAR HOUSE, AND FIND STRANGE COMPANY XII I DISCOVER A GREAT AUTHOR WHERE I LEAST EXPECT TO FIND ONE XIII I FIND OUT CYNTHIA: CYNTHIA FINDS OUT ME XIV AMANTIUM IRAE XV AMORIS INTEGRATIO: WE ARE CLAPT IN THE STOCKS XVI WE ARE SO SORELY TRIED THAT WE FAIN HAVE RECOURSE TO OUR WITS XVII WE MAKE ACQUAINTANCE WITH A PERSON OF DISTINCTION XVIII CONTAINS A PANEGYRIC ON THE GENTLE PASSION XIX WE APPEAR IN A NEW CHARACTER XX DISADVANTAGES OF A CHAISE AND A PAIR OF HORSES XXI WE REAP THE FRUITS OF OUR AUDACITY XXII THE LAST
THE WAYFARERS
CHAPTER I
THE DEVIL TO PAY
When I opened my eyes it was one o'clock in the day. The cards lay onthe table in a heap, and on the carpet in a greater one, the deadbottles in their midst. The candles were burnt out; their holders werefoul with smoke and grease. As I sat up on the couch on which I hadthrown myself at nine o clock in the morning in the desperation offatigue, and stretched the sleep out of my limbs and rubbed it out ofmy brain the afternoon strove through the drawn blinds palely. Thehalf-light gave such a sombre and appropriate touch to the profligatescene that it would have moved a moralist to a disquisition of fivepages. But whatever my errors, that accusation was never urged againstme, even by my friends. You may continue in your reading, therefore,in no immediate peril. The ashes were long since grey in the grate;there was an intolerable reek of wine-dregs and stale tobacco in theair; and the condition of the furniture, stained and broken and tumbledin all directions contributed the final disorder to the room. Indeedthe only article in it, allowing no exception to myself, that hademerged from the orgy of the night without an impediment to its dignitywas the picture of my grandfather, that pious, learned nobleman,hanging above the mantelpiece. A chip off a corner of his frame mightbe urged even against him; but what was that in comparison with thephilosophical severity with which he gazed upon the scene? In thegrave eyes, the grim mouth, the great nose of his family, he retainedthe contemplative grandeur which had enabled him to give to the worldin ten ponderous tomes a Commentary on the _Analects of Confucius_.The space they had occupied on my book-shelf, between the _NewgateCalendar_ and the _History of Jonathan Wild the Great_, was nowunfilled, since these memorials of the great mind of my ancestor hadlain three weeks with the Jews.
By the time my wits had returned I was able to recall the fact that theprevious night, whose evidences I now regarded, was the last I shouldenjoy. It was the extravagant ending to a raffish comedy. Finis wasalready written in my history. As I sat yawning on my couch I was athing of the past; I had ceased to be; to-morrow at this hour I shouldbe forgotten by the world. I had had my chin off the bridle for tenyears, and had used that period to whirl my heels without regard to theconsequences. I had played high, drunk deep, paid my court to Venus,gained the notoriety of the intrigue and the duel--in fact, I had takenevery degree in rakishness with the highest honours. I had spent orlost every penny of my patrimony, and fourteen thousand pounds besides;I could no longer hold my creditors at bay; various processes were outagainst me; the Jews had my body, as surely as the devil had my soul.But it was more particularly a stroke of ill-fortune that had hastenedon the evil day. The single hair whereon the sword over my head hadbeen suspended must have been severed sooner or later, even had it notsuddenly snapped at four of the clock of the previous afternoon. Atthat hour I had killed a cornet of the Blues within a hundred yards ofthe Cocoa Tree, in the presence of my greatest enemy. Lord knows itwas in fair fight, marred it is true by a little heat on the side ofboth; but the only witness of the deed, and he an accidental one, wasHumphrey Waring, my rival and my enemy. He of all men was best able toturn such a misadventure on my part to account. The moment poorBurdock sank sobbing to death in Waring's arms, and he cried with hisgrim laugh, "You will need to run pretty swift, my lord, to prove your_alibi_," I knew that fate had reserved for the last the cruellesttrick of all she had it in her power to play.
Possessed by the knowledge that I must inevitably perish in a rope, orless fortunately in a debtor's jail, for the instant the hand of thelaw was laid on my coat, the state of my affairs would never permit itto be removed. I went home and hastily summoned a few choice spiritsto my lodgings in Jermyn Street that evening; and I spent the lastnight of my freedom in that society, expecting at every cast of thecards and every clink of the bottle to hear the boots of the "traps"from Bow Street upon the stairs. Yet all night long they never came,and here it was one o'clock in the afternoon, and I still in theenjoyment of my liberty. And now, as I sat in the sanity of daylight,refreshed by an excellent sleep, I felt myself still to be my own man.Therefore I called to Francois my valet to draw up the window-blinds,and to have the goodness to bring me a bottle of wine.
This blackguard of an Irishman bore in baptism the name of Terence, butI called him Francois, because one holds that to be as indubitably thename of a valet as Dick of an ostler, and Thomas of a clergyman.Besides, I have such an hereditary instinct for polite letters, that Iwould as lief have called him after his own honoured patronymic as bythat of our excellent Flaccus himself. Francois waded through thekings and queens and aces on the carpet, let the daylight in, and thenwithdrew to fetch a clean glass and a bottle of Tokay.
"The last bottle, me lord," says he.
"We drain the last bottle on the last day," says I. "Can aught be morefitting? _Finis coronal opus_!"
As this was the last time I should take the cup of pleasure to my lips,I made the utmost of it; sipped it carefully, turned it over on mytongue, held the glass up to the light, meditated on my past a little,on my present case, and what lay before me. I suppose it was aparticular generous quality of the wine that kindled a new warmth in myspirit. Why, I asked myself, should I sit here, tamely waiting on myfate? Why should I be content to have my person contaminated with thedirty hands that would hale it to an ignominious death, or a thing lessbearable? Why should I not cheat the Jews and my evil fortune in thislast hour? Nothing could be easier than to leave the law in the lurch.
This course was so consonant to the desperation of my temper andaffairs, that I had no sooner entered on the second glass of this lastbottle, than I was fully convinced of its propriety. It was surelymore fitting that a gentleman should select the hour and the manner ofhis exit from the world, than submit like a common ruffian to thedictation of the law in these important matters. To die by the hand ofoneself is not the highest sort of death, it is true; but I am one whowould advance, although the ancient and best writers are against me inthis matter, that there are occasions when a man may best serve hisdignity by renouncing that which has ceased to be a cherished object tohim. In this, at least, I have Cato the younger with me.
Indeed I had already taken this resolve rather than submit my pride tothose inconveniences that so depress the spirit, when a third glass ofwine put me in mind of a thing the most i
mportunate of any. There wasa certain lady. Nothing can be more ludicrous than to consider of aruined gamester broken by Fortune on her wheel, pausing in his lastextremity for such a reason. But there it was. I could have wished tosee the tears of defiance once again on her cheeks. In spite of theworld, in spite of her family, of my evil history, of my cunning,plausible enemy, she had given me her proud little heart. She was theone person I might have turned to in this black hour, who would nothave requited me with a sneer or a cold glance. Her stern old fatherhad no sooner discovered how her affections stood committed towards me,and had learned the colour of my reputation, than he had whisked heraway from town to his seat in the remote west country, and had vowedupon his soul to have me ducked in a ditch if I so much as showed mynose in those parts.
These thoughts of dear, insolent little Cynthia had induced reflectionsthat I could well have done without. It was plain that this last castof the cards had left the game in the hands of Mr. Humphrey Waring. Hehad long had the ear of the old duke, Cynthia's father, and no man knewbetter how to push the advantages my misfortunes had given him over me.He would marry the greatest heiress in the west country, hate him asshe might, whilst Jack Tiverton, the worthless rogue on whom she doted,or, if it please you better, the Right Honourable Anthony Gervas JohnPlowden-Pleydell, fifth Earl of Tiverton, that ill-fated nobleman,rotted in durance, or writhed in a rope at Tyburn, or spilt his brainson the carpet of his lodgings. But for all that I had a mind toattempt a little more mischief before I perished. Why not go to poorlittle town-bred Cynthia, immured in the country like a bird in a cage,and throw her obstinate old father and her cunning suitor into such afright as they would not be likely to forget? Indeed, why not?
However, when I came to reflect on this scheme more carefully, I foundthat I had hardly zest enough for it. My ruin was too complete.Besides, it might cost Cynthia dear. I should have been well pleasedto look on my pretty young miss once again and watch the tears coursedown her cheeks in the stress of our farewell, for I would have youknow that I am a man of sentiment when in the humour. But it would bea hollow business and little of a kindness to the child to have herweep for such a broken profligate. I should purchase the discomfort ofmy enemies at too high a price.
Yet I must come to a decision speedily. Every instant I expected tohear the law upon the stairs. Should I spare it any further troublethere and then, or make an attempt to break out of town and lead it adance across the country? The drawback in the first course was itssomewhat arbitrary nature. It was so final and so certain that chancewould have no opportunity. The drawback to the second was that I hadnot a guinea in the world. That morning I had staked my last and lostit. However, as I weighed the pros and cons with a whimsicaldeliberation I was taken with a fortunate expedient. Chance had beenthe ruling passion of my life. It had brought me to this pass. Whyshould I not employ it to solve this problem? I summoned M. Francois.
"Take two pistols," I said, "into the next chamber, but load one only.Cock them both, however, but use particular care that nothing shallsuggest which is charged and which is not. Then bring them here andlay them side by side upon this table, still remembering not to betraythe fatal one."
M. Francois bowed, and solemnly carried away the weapons from thesideboard. I awaited his return with an emotion akin to pleasure. Ihad tasted most of the delights that chance could afford me; but evenI, who had staked houses, lands, servants, furniture, and every guineaof my fortune, had not yet gambled with my life. Thus, when I came toplay the greatest stake that is in the power of any man to play, it wasbut fitting that I should enjoy some little exhilaration in that act.
M. Francois returned in rather more than two minutes with the pistols,and set them on the table on the top of the cards. They were bothcocked, and it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. M.Francis coughed in his well-bred manner, and then sighed deeply.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," he said, at the verge of tears, "and I amsure your lordship will overlook the liberty on an occasion--on anoccasion that is not likely to occur again. But may I say, my lord,with what deep regret I take farewell of your lordship? I am surethere could not have been a better, kinder master."
"Francois, I subscribe heartily to that," says I, "and I am sure therecould not have been a bigger blackguard of a servant. And may I say,Francois, that I never took a deeper pleasure in anything than inparting with you; and I may even add that if a minute hence I am calledelsewhere, I go with the less irresolution, because I am firm in theopinion that wherever it may be, I cannot be worse served than I havebeen at your hands."
"Your lordship is more than kind," says Francois humbly.
"No thanks, I beg," says I. "But, Francois, if chance, who hath servedme nearly as ill as you have and for a rather longer period, sees fitto arrange that I shall perish by my own hand, I do not doubt that youwill desire some small memento, some small souvenir of so fortunate anoccasion."
"Your lordship is more than kind," says Francois, more humbly thanbefore.
"You overwhelm me, Francois," says I. "If there is any littleknick-knack your fancy turns to, you have only to mention it. The Jewswill but claim it otherwise, and I would almost as lief it fell intoyour hands as into theirs."
"As your lordship so emboldens me," says M. Francois, "I should mostgreatly cherish the picture of your grandfather, that wise goodnobleman, that hangs above the mantelpiece, for I am sure I coulddevise no more fitting memorial of his grandson."
"Francois," says I, "would I did not know you for a rogue, for thechastity of your taste does you so much honour it honours me. Butwould you bereave me of the last badge of my respectability? Friends,fortune, estate, the consideration of the world, all are gone, and youwould now deny me the solace of my heritage. Yet I commend your wisdomeven here, since if you rob others as you have robbed myself, you willpresently be able to purchase half the kingdom of Ireland, and set upamong the landed gentry. You will then, I doubt not, find an ancestoror two come not amiss. And if of my grandfather's pattern so much thebetter, for their virtue will purchase you more credit than any of yourown. But I would recommend myself that you took a few ancestors overwith the property. They would cost less in a lump. Besides, they tellme they are cheaper in Ireland than anywhere else, except France, wherethey are even more common than matrimony."
M. Francois was gathering himself to make a proper reply to thisharangue, when suddenly we both heard the long-expected footfalls onthe stairs.
"Secure that door," said I. "I will not be taken until chance hatharbitrated on my destination."
Saying this, without the hesitation of an instant I picked up one ofthe pistols lying side by side among the cards. Francois slipped tothe door and turned the key. Then he went to the mantelpiece, tookdown the picture, and placed it under his arm.
"Farewell, my lord," he said, "I leave you with inexpressible regret."
He ran to the window, cast it open, and with the most astonishing skilland agility, squeezed himself through the opening, my grandfather andall; and the roof being well within his reach, he first laid thepicture on the tiles, then drew himself up after it, and showed thecleanest pair of heels to the law as ever I saw. And I was so takenwith the ready wit and contrivance of the rogue, that although I hadthe cocked pistol pressed to my temple, I could not pull the triggerfor the life of me. For I stood all a-shake with very laughter, sothat the cold muzzle of the weapon tapped now against my forehead, nowagainst my nose, now against my cheekbone, till I vow it was a miraclethe hammer did not descend. But in the middle of all this the door wastried and shaken, followed by a fierce tap on the panel, and then camethe clear tones of a woman.
"Open--open the door. Jack, it is I!"
At the sound of that voice the pistol fell from my hands altogether.Striking the carpet with a thud, it exploded under my feet and knockeda great hole in the wainscot. For an instant the room was full ofsmoke, gunpowder, and a mighty noise; but the moment I recovered
mycourage I unfastened the door and confronted the cause of it--CynthiaCarew! She too was the victim of a not unnatural bewilderment, and aspale as linen.
"Ods sputterkins!" she cried. "What a taking you have put me in! I amall of a twitter. Whose brains have you spilt? Not your own, I'llwarrant me, for you never had any. Give me a kiss now, and get me someratafia to compose me, and we'll let it pass."
"Cynthia," I gasped, but giving her the first of these requisites, "howcame you here, in heaven's name?
"Ratafia!" she cried, "ratafia, or I perish."
"There's never a drop in the place," says I. "No, nor cherry-brandy,nor aromatic vinegar neither."
"Another kiss then," says Cynthia, pressing her white cheek against me,and casting her arms about my neck.
I led her within and set her down on the couch. She bore all theevidences of having made a long journey. So far from being dressed inthe modishness that was wont to charm St. James's Park, she was coveredby a long, dun-coloured cloak, wore a country hat, if I'm a judge of'em, in which the feathers were crumpled; her shoes were muddy, and shecarried a strange look of fear and uneasiness that I had never seenabout her before. I procured a clean glass and filled it with winefrom the last bottle and made her drain it, for she looked so pale andoverborne.
"Now," says I, "how came you here? and what brings you?"
"Oh, Jack," says she, "I am run away." She suddenly broke forth into aflood of tears.
"The devil you are!" says I.
"Yes," says she, sobbing as though her heart would break, "and I'm notsorry neither."
"You wouldn't confess it an you were," says I.
"No, I wouldn't," she sobbed.
I must admit that the sight of the sweet chit was the one thing in allthe world that had the power to please me at that hour, yet there wasnot a thing that could have happened to leave me in so sore a case.Here had my prettiness come and thrown herself on my protection--on theprotection of a man utterly ruined, whom the law was already doggingfor his liberty, if not his life. In sooth I must send her back again.It was no sort of a reception, especially when one fell to consider theheroical fashion of her coming to me. But what else was one to do? Iwas at my last gasp, without so much as a guinea, or a roof for myhead, since to stay in that house was to court arrest, nor had I afriend in the world to whom I would dare to recommend her.
"Cynthia," says I, "I dote upon the sight of you; I am filled with joyto see you sitting there, but--but----"
How could I tell the child!
"But--but?" She sobbed no more. Mopping her tears, she crumpled thesopping handkerchief in her little fist, sat perfectly upright in herseat, and stared so straight at me that I felt the blood hum in my ears.
"But--but!" says I again--devil take me if I could tell her.
"But--but?" says she on her part; and it was wonderful to see her blueeyes come open and her proud lips spring together like the snap of awatch-case.
"Well, Cynthia, dear, it is simply this," says I, going headlong intoit. "You find me a ruined gamester, without a friend or a guinea inthe world, who even at this moment is being hunted for his debts, and,if I dared say it to you, something worse. Now there is but one wayout of it. You cannot stay here; there is not a friend to whom I mayconfide you; child, you must go back to your father."
Instead of growing red, the colour that shone I am sure in my face, shegrew as pale as snow, and her eyes sparkled with a grim beauty thatdiscomposed me more than it charmed me. She rose from the couch,lifted her chin out of her white throat, and kicked the kings andqueens and knaves on the carpet in all directions.
"Never," she cried. "I will not go back to my father. I said I wouldnot marry this Mr. Waring; whereon my lord said he would lock me in myroom until I was of another mind. And he did lock me in it; and Ibroke out of it; and I will not go back, no, not if I must subsist oncrusts picked from the kennel, and the clothes rot off my body, and Isleep o' nights in a dry ditch or the porch of a church."
"Faith!" says I, "that's well spoke, monstrous well spoke."
"I hate this Mr. Waring," says the little fury. "May I be crost inlove, if I do not."
"And if I do not too," says I, "may my heart smoke in purgatory. Butcome tell me, is it for himself you hate him, or is it for love of me?"
"A plague take all catechisms," says she. "But I will tell you foranother kiss."
I think two persons in love could never have been in a worse plightthan Cynthia and I. There seemed no course open to us, other than toflee together, we knew not whither. Before even this could beconsidered, however, we had to find the means.
"What money have you left in your poke?" I asked her.
"Twelvepence exactly and a halfpenny over."
I whistled long and shrill. "Which is twelve-pence exactly and ahalfpenny more than there is in mine. At nine o'clock this morning Istaked my all, including three periwigs, nine pairs of silk breeches,stockings, five cambric brocaded waistcoats, silver-buckled shoes,sword, duelling pistols, house and furniture, the Odes of Horace, andmy man-cook--staked 'em on the queen of hearts and lost 'em. Think onit, my pretty--lost 'em on the queen of hearts."
"I care not for that," says Cynthia. "I will not go back, and so youmust make the best of me."
"But, child, what can I do when I'm taken?"
"You must not be taken."
"In that case," says I, "the only chance we have is to get away fromhere at once, furnished with the clothes we stand in, and the sum oftwelve-pence halfpenny."