Part 9 (1/2)
LADY BIDDY GIVES ME A WORD OF COMFORT.
I reached Fane Court eighteen months, as near as may be, from the time our first unhappy expedition set out.
When I asked for Sir Bartlemy, the hall servant, seeing me all dusty with travel and out at the heel, told me I must bide my time, as the knight and Lady Biddy Fane were at dinner.
”No matter for that,” says I; ”tell him his nephew, Benet Pengilly, is here, and I warrant you will fare better than if you kept him waiting for the news.”
The fellow started in amaze hearing my name, which was better known to him than my face, and went without a word to carry the tidings of my return to Sir Bartlemy. Almost immediately, afterwards my uncle came out into the hall, and as quickly after him Lady Biddy--Sir Bartlemy as hale and hearty as ever, and Lady Biddy, to my eyes, more beautiful than before; but both pale and greatly amazed in countenance.
”Benet!” gasps the old knight, and that was all he could say. But he held out his hand, which I took and pressed with great love, for my feelings were much softened by hards.h.i.+p, and I was grieved to think of the pain I was to give him instead of the joyful news he looked for.
Lady Biddy stepped forward, and her face lighting up with hope, she looked for the moment as if she also might be kind to me, and welcome me for the sake of her lover. But of a sudden she checked herself, seeing my downcast complexion, and bating her breath, she says:
”Where is he? Where are the rest?”
Then says I, with as much courage as I could muster, but with pain that went to my heart--
”I am the only man who has come back.” And with that I hung my head, not to see their grief.
”He is not dead--they are not all lost!” I heard her say, in a tone that seemed mingled with, a silent prayer to merciful G.o.d.
”No,” says I; ”Sir Harry is not dead. I left him out there in Guiana; but for the rest, if they be lost, 'tis their just reward.”
Then Lady Biddy burst into tears to know that her lover lived, and Sir Bartlemy, taking her by the arm and me by mine, led us into the dining-hall without speaking.
By this time, Lady Biddy's emotion being pa.s.sed, and her pride returning, she took her arm from her uncle's, as if she would not accept of kindness that was equally bestowed on such as I.
”Sit ye down there, Benet,” says my uncle, pus.h.i.+ng me to a seat; ”and now tell us all as briefly as you may; for I perceive that the case is bad (with a plague to it!) though Harry live (G.o.d be thanked!); and if there be a tooth to come out, the quicker it's done the better.”
Then I told the bare truth: how Rodrigues and Ned Parsons had led the crew astray and set us ash.o.r.e, and the means of my coming again to England, in as few words as I could s.h.i.+ft with. When I had made an end of this, Lady Biddy was the first to speak.
”Why did not Sir Harry come back with you?” says she.
”He scorns to come back a beggar,” says I. ”He will never return to England until he can repay his obligations to Sir Bartlemy and ask you to be his wife.”
This gave her great joy, admiring in him that quality of pride which she cherished in herself, so that her eyes sparkled again, and her fair bosom swelled with a sigh of satisfaction. Presently she turned again upon me, her pretty lips curved with disdain, and says she:
”And you left him there in that desert alone! Content to save your own life, you abandoned him to hopeless solitude. Oh, that I had been a man in your place!”
I hung my head again in silence, feeling it were better to bear her reproach than to attempt an excuse; for I could not trust my tongue to reveal the main reason of my escaping, for fear I should betray his intention of turning pirate; and this, for the love I bore them, I was resolved to keep secret.
”Nay,” says Sir Bartlemy, coming to my help, but with no great enthusiasm neither; ”never beat the dog that comes home.” He paused, and I could fancy his adding to himself, ”Curse him, for a mean-spirited hound, all the same!” Then he continues, in a more hopeful tone, ”If he had not come home, how could we have known of Harry's peril? Come, Benet; tell me that in coming hither you hoped to get succor for Harry.”
”You might believe that,” says I, ”of a man with less heart than you credit me withal. I came to beg for help because Sir Harry was too proud to beg it himself.”
”I knew as much,” says he, taking my hand and shaking it heartily. Then turning to my Lady Biddy, ”And now, my dear, what's to do? I have no money, and an expense I must be to you all the days that I live, now that my all is lost, with a pox to those rascals that robbed me! But you of your plenty will charter a s.h.i.+p to go out and fetch this poor man?”
”More than that must be done,” says I. ”He will only accept such help as will enable him to recover all he has lost.”
There was approval in Lady Biddy's looks when I said this.