Volume I Part 19 (2/2)
”'Tis those short nights that shorten the measure of life, madam,” said Durnford gravely. ”Mrs. Bosworth will be older by ten years for the pleasures of a single season.”
Her ladys.h.i.+p honoured the speaker with a slow, supercilious stare, and deigned no other answer.
”0, but there are some things worth wasting life for, Mr. Durnford,”
replied Irene, smiling at him; ”the opera, for instance. I would barter a year of my old age for one night of _Rinaldo_ or _Theseus_.”
”A lady of eighteen is as free with the treasure of long life as a minor with his reversion,” said Durnford. ”Both are spendthrifts. But I, who have pa.s.sed life's zenith, which with a man I take to be thirty, am beginning to be chary of my declining years. I hope to win some prize out of life's lottery, and to live happy ever after, as they say in fairy tales. Now I conclude that 'ever after' in your story-book means a hale old age.”
”Give me the present hour and its pleasures,” cried Lavendale, ”a b.u.mper of rattle and excitement, filled to the brim, a long deep draught of joy, and no for-ever-after of old age and decline, in which to regret the golden days of youth. There should be no _arriere pensee_ on such a morning as this, with a bright winter sun, a good trotting-horse, and beauty's eyes for our lode-stars.”
”How does your lords.h.i.+p happen to be travelling our way?” asked Lady Tredgold.
”For the simplest of all reasons: I and my friend Durnford here are both bound for the same destination.”
”You are going to Ringwood Abbey! How very curious, how very pleasant!”
exclaimed the lady, in her most gracious tones; then she added with a colder air, and without looking at the person of whom she spoke, ”I was not aware that Mr. Durnford was acquainted with Mr. Topsparkle.”
Durnford was absorbed in the landscape, and made no reply to the indirect question.
”Mr. Topsparkle is ever on the alert to invite clever people to his house,” said Lavendale, ”and Lady Judith has a rage for literature, poetry, science, what you will. She is a student of Newton and Flamsteed, and loves lectures on physical science such as Desaguliers gave the town when Durnford and I were boys. Lady Judith is devoted to Mr. Durnford.”
”I am charmed to learn that literature is so highly appreciated,” said her ladys.h.i.+p stiffly.
She made up her mind that Herrick Durnford was dangerous--a fortune-hunter, doubtless, with a keen scent for an heiress; and she had observed that her niece blushed when he addressed her.
She could not, however, be openly uncivil to so close a friend of Lord Lavendale's, so the journey progressed pleasantly enough; the hors.e.m.e.n trotting beside the carriage like a bodyguard for a while, and then dropping behind to breathe their cattle, or cantering in advance now and then when there came a long stretch of level turf by the wayside.
They all stopped at Kingston for an early dinner, and it was growing towards dusk when the coach and six fresh horses started on the second stage of the journey. The progress became slower from this point. The road was dark, and had the reputation of being a favourite resort for highwaymen. Lady Tredgold had never yet been face to face with one of those monsters, but she had an ever-present terror of masked and armed marauders springing out upon her from every hedge. It was but last year that Jonathan Wild had paid the penalty of his crimes, and Jack Sheppard had swung the year before; and though neither of these had won his renown upon the road, Lady Tredgold vaguely a.s.sociated those great names with danger to travellers. It was not so very long since the Duke of Chandos had been stopped by five highwaymen on a night journey from Canons to London; nor had her ladys.h.i.+p forgotten how the Chichester mail had been robbed of the letter-bags in Battersea Bottom; nor that robbery on the road at Acton, by which the wretches made off with a booty of two thousand pounds. And she had the family diamonds under the seat of the carriage, tied up in a rag of old chintz to make the parcel seem insignificant; and her point lace alone was worth a small fortune.
She counted her forces, and concluded that so long as they all kept together no band of robbers would be big enough or bold enough to attack them.
”Don't leave us, I entreat, dear Lord Lavendale,” she urged, as they crossed Esher Common. ”We will drive as slow as ever you like, so as not to tire your saddle-horses. Tell those postboys to go slower.”
”Have no fear, madam,” answered Lavendale gaily. ”Our hacks are not easily tired. We will stick by you as close as if we were gentlemen of the road and had hopes of booty.”
So they rode cheerily enough towards Fairmile. It was broad moonlight by the time they came to Flamestead Common; a clear, cold, winter moon, which lighted up every hillock and gleamed silvery upon the tiny waterpools.
Durnford had been riding close beside the coach, talking of music and plays with Irene; but as they approached this open ground where the light was clearest, he observed a change in her countenance. Those lovely eyes became clouded over, those lovely lips ceased to smile, and his remarks were responded to briefly, with an absent air.
”Why are you silent, dearest miss?” he asked. Lady Tredgold was snoring in her corner of the carriage, Lavendale was riding on the farther side of the road, and those two seemed almost alone. ”Does yonder cold, pale planet inspire you with a gentle melancholy?”
”I was thinking of the past,” she answered gravely, looking beyond him towards that irregular ground where flowerless furze-bushes showed black against the steel-blue sky.
”You can have no past to inspire sad thoughts. You are too young.”
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