Simon Orts went toward the dead body, looking down into the distorted face. "And I, too, loved him. Yes, such as he was, he was the only friend I had. And I think he liked me," Simon Orts said aloud, with a touch of shy pride. "Yes, and you trusted me, didn't you, Vincent? Wait for me, then, my Lord,—I shall not be long. And now I'll serve you faithfully. I had to play the man's part, you know,—you mustn't grudge old Simon his one hour of manhood. You wouldn't, I think. And in any event, I shall be with you presently, and you can cuff me for it if you like—just as you used to do."
He covered the dead face with his handkerchief, but in the instant he drew it away. "No, not this coarse cambric. You were too much of a fop, Vincent. I will use yours—the finest linen, my Lord. You see old Simon knows your tastes."
He drew himself erect exultantly.
"They will come at dawn to kill me; but I have had my hour. God, the man I might have been! And now—well, perhaps He would not be offended if I said a bit of a prayer for Vincent."
So the Vicar of Heriz Magna knelt beside the flesh that had been Lord Rokesle, and there they found him in the morning.
II
LOVE AT MARTINMAS
As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April 1, 1750
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MR. ERWYN, a gentleman of the town, ceremonious and a coxcomb, but a man of honor.
LADY ALLONBY, a woman of fashion, and widow to Lord Stephen Allonby.
MISS ALLONBY, daughter to Lord Stephen by a former marriage, of a considerable fortune in her own hands.
FOOTMEN to Lady Allonby; and in the Proem FRANCIS ORTS, commonly know as FRANCIS VANBINGHAM, a dissolute play-actor.
SCENE
A drawing-room In Lady Allonby's villa at Tunbridge Wells.
LOVE AT MARTINMAS
PROEM:—To be Filed for Reference Hereafter
Lady Allonby followed in all respects the Vicar's instructions; and midnight found her upon the pier of Bishops Onslow, Colonel Denstroude's big and dilapidated country-residence. Frank Orts had assisted her from the rowboat without speaking; indeed, he had uttered scarcely a word, save to issue some necessary direction, since the woman first came to him at the Vicarage with her news of the night's events. Now he composedly stepped back into the boat.
"You've only to go forward," said Frank Orts. "I regret that for my own part I'm no longer an acceptable visitor here, since the Colonel and I fought last summer over one Molly Yates. Nay, I beseech you, put up your purse, my Lady."
"Then I can but render you my heartfelt thanks," replied Lady Allonby, "and incessantly remember you in daily prayers for the two gallant men who have this night saved a woman from great misery. Yet there is that in your voice which is curiously familiar, Mr. Orts, and I think that somewhere you and I have met before this."
"Ay," he responded, "you have squandered many a shilling on me here in England, where Francis Vanringham bellows and makes faces with the rest of the Globe Company. On Usk, you understand, I'm still Frank Orts, just as I was christened; but elsewhere the name of Vanringham was long ago esteemed more apt to embellish and adorn the bill of a heroic play. Ay, you've been pleased to applaud my grimaces behind the footlights, more than once; your mother-in-law, indeed, the revered Marchioness-Dowager of Falmouth, is among my staunchest patrons."
"Heavens! then we shall all again see one another at Tunbridge!" said Lady Allonby, who was recovering her spirits; "and I shall have a Heaven-sent opportunity, to confirm my protestations that I am not ungrateful. Mr. Vanringham, I explicitly command you to open in The Orphan, since: as Castalio in that piece you are the most elegant and moving thing in the universal world." [Footnote: This was the opinion of others as well. Thorsby (Roscius Anglicanus) says, "Mr. Vanringham was good in tragedy, as well as in comedy, especially as Castalio in Otway's Orphan, and the more famous Garrick came, in that part, far short of him." Vanringham was also noted for his Valentine in Love for Love and for his Beaugard in The Soldier's Fortune.]
"Your command shall be obeyed," said the actor. "And meantime, my Lady, I bid you an au revoir, with many millions of regrets for the inconveniences to which you've been subjected this evening, Oho, we are lamentably rustic hereabout."
And afterward as he rowed through the dark the man gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.
"I was too abrupt with her. But it vexes me to have Brother Simon butchered like this…. These natural instincts are damnably inconvenient,—and expensive, at times, Mr. Vanringham,—beside being ruinous to one's sense of humor, Mr. Vanringham. Why, to think that she alone should go scot-free! and of her ordering a stage-box within the hour of two men's destruction on her account! Upon reflection, I admire the woman to the very tips of my toes. Eh, well! I trust to have need of her gratitude before the month is up."
I
Since Colonel Denstroude proved a profane and dissolute and helpful person, Lady Allonby was shortly re-established in her villa at Tunbridge Wells, on the Sussex side, where she had resolved to find a breathing-space prior to the full season in London. And thereupon she put all thoughts of Usk quite out of her mind: it had been an unhappy business, but it was over. In the meanwhile her wardrobe needed replenishing now that spring was coming in; the company at the Wells was gay enough; and Lady Allonby had always sedulously avoided anything that was disagreeable.
Mr. Erwyn Lady Allonby was far from cataloguing under that head. Mr. George Erwyn had been for years a major-general, at the very least, in Fashion's army, and was concededly a connoisseur of all the elegancies.
Mr. Erwyn sighed as he ended his recital—half for pity of the misguided folk who had afforded Tunbridge its latest scandal, half for relief that, in spite of many difficulties, the story had been set forth in discreet language which veiled, without at all causing you to miss, the more unsavory details.
"And so," said he, "poor Harry is run through the lungs, and Mrs. Anstruther has recovered her shape and is to be allowed a separate maintenance."
"'Tis shocking!" said Lady Allonby.
"'Tis incredible," said Mr. Erwyn, "to my mind, at least, that the bonds of matrimony should be slipped thus lightly. But the age is somewhat lax and the world now views with complaisance the mad antics of half-grown lads and wenches who trip toward the altar as carelessly as if the partnership were for a country-dance."
Lady Allonby stirred her tea and said nothing. Notoriously her marriage had been unhappy; and her two years of widowhood (dating from the unlamented seizure, brought on by an inherited tendency to apoplexy and French brandy, which carried off Lord Stephen Allonby of Prestonwoode) had to all appearance never tempered her distrust of the matrimonial state. Certain it was that she had refused many advantageous offers during this period, for her jointure was considerable, and, though in candid moments she confessed to thirty-three, her dearest friends could not question Lady Allonby's good looks. She was used to say that she would never re-marry, because she desired to devote herself to her step-daughter, but, as gossip had it at Tunbridge, she was soon to be deprived of this subterfuge; for Miss Allonby had reached her twentieth year, and was nowadays rarely seen in public save in the company of Mr. Erwyn, who, it was generally conceded, stood high in the girl's favor and was desirous of rounding off his career as a leader of fashion with the approved comoedic denouement of marriage with a young heiress.