Part 38 (2/2)
I went slowly upstairs, threw off my clothes mechanically, and tumbled into bed. The captain had long been asleep. By the exertion of all the will power I could command, I was able gradually to think more and more soberly, and the more I thought, the more absurd, impossible, it seemed that I, a rough provincial not yet of age, should possess the heart of a beauty who had but to choose from the best of all England. An hundred times I went over the scene of poor Comyn's proposal, nay, saw it vividly, as though the whole of it had been acted before me: and as I became calmer, the plainer I perceived that Dorothy, thinking me dead, was willing to let Comyn believe that she had loved me, and had so eased the soreness of her refusal. Perhaps, in truth, a sentiment had sprung up in her breast when she heard of my disappearance, which she mistook for love. But surely the impulse that sent her to Castle Yard was not the same as that Comyn had depicted: it was merely the survival of the fancy of a little girl in a gra.s.s-stained frock, who had romped on the lawn at Carvel Hall. I sighed as I remembered the sun and the flowers and the blue Chesapeake, and recalled the very toss of her head when she had said she would marry nothing less than a duke.
Alas, Dolly, perchance it was to be nothing more than a duke! The bloated face and beady eyes and the broad crooked back I had seen that day in Arlington Street rose before me,--I should know his Grace of Chartersea again were I to meet him in purgatory. Was it, indeed, possible that I could prevent her marriage with this man? I fell asleep, repeating the query, as the dawn was sifting through the blinds.
I awakened late. Banks was already there to dress me, to congratulate me as discreetly as a well-trained servant should; nor did he remind me of the fact that he had offered to lend me money, for which omission I liked him the better. In the parlour I found the captain sipping his chocolate and reading his morning Chronicle, as though all his life he had done nothing else.
”Good morning, captain.” And fetching him a lick on the back that nearly upset his bowl, I cried as heartily as I could:
”Egad, if our luck holds, we'll be sailing before the week is out.”
But he looked troubled. He hemmed and hawed, and finally broke out into Scotch:
”Indeed, laddie, y'ell no be leaving Miss Dorothy for me.”
”What nonsense has Comyn put into your head?” I demanded, with a st.i.tch in my side; I am no more to Miss Manners than--”
”Than John Paul! Faith, y'ell not make me believe that. Ah, Richard,”
said he, ”ye're a sly dog. You and I have been as thick these twa months as men can well live, and never a word out of you of the most sublime creature that walks. I have seen women in many countries, lad, beauties to set thoughts afire and swords a-play,--and 'tis not her beauty alone.
She hath a spirit for a queen to covet, and air and carriage, too.”
This eloquent harangue left me purple.
”I grant it all, captain. She has but to choose her t.i.tle and estate.”
”Ay, and I have a notion which she'll be choosing.”
”The knowledge is worth a thousand pounds at the least,” I replied. ”I will lend you the sum, and warrant no lack of takers.”
”Now the devil fly off with such temperament! And I had half the encouragement she has given you, I would cast anchor on the spot, and they might hang and quarter me to move me. But I know you well,” he exclaimed, his manner changing, ”you are making this great sacrifice on my account. And I will not be a drag on your pleasures, Richard, or stand in the way of your prospects.”
”Captain Paul,” I said, sitting down beside him, ”have I deserved this from you? Have I shown a desire to desert you now that my fortunes have changed? I have said that you shall taste of our cheer at Carvel Hall, and have looked forward this long while to the time when I shall take you to my grandfather and say: 'Mr. Carvel, this is he whose courage and charity have restored you to me, and me to you.' And he will have changed mightily if you do not have the best in Maryland. Should you wish to continue on the sea, you shall have the Belle of the Wye, launched last year. 'Tis time Captain Elliott took to his pension.”
The captain sighed, and a gleam I did not understand came into his dark eyes.
”I would that G.o.d had given me your character and your heart, Richard,”
he said, ”in place of this striving thing I have within me. But 'tis written that a leopard cannot change his spots.”
”The pa.s.sage shall be booked this day,” I said.
That morning was an eventful one. Comyn arrived first, dressed in a suit of mauve French cloth that set off his fine figure to great advantage.
He regarded me keenly as he entered, as if to discover whether I had changed my mind over night. And I saw he was not in the best of tempers.
”And when do you sail?” he cried. ”I have no doubt you have sent out already to get pa.s.sage.”
”I have been trying to persuade Mr. Carvel to remain in London, my Lord,” said the captain. ”I tell him he is leaving his best interests behind him.”
”I fear that for once you have undertaken a task beyond your ability, Captain Paul,” was the rather tart reply.
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