menu_book Chapter 27

CHAPTER III. RELINGQUISHING A DREAM At last he began to fear lest they should be discovered. He therefore took passage in a ship to Suez. RASALAS CHAPTER XV.

When Hervey came back from escorting the visitors to their carriage, the occupant of the pack was still standing just inside the garden door like a man in a trance. Hervey smiled at him. Well, Raoul. I am still rather overwhelmed, confessed Raoul, and he looked at her coming like this, and

the cartel. Have you heard of that? It's like a conque de fille. Hervey slipped his arm in his and began to lead him back to the couch. Oh, I don't need to say how delighted I am, do I, my dear lad?

But why have you never told me of this British officer at Albuera? Because there was really nothing to tell. I kept a Polish lancer from spearing him, and that was all. I never even knew his name. And now it seems that, thanks to Miss Forrest's good offices, and Lord Falgrave's, of course,

I've merely to show myself to be sent back to France. It's astounding. It was not unnatural that he should go on in this vein for a little, and Hervey had no wish in the world to stop him. He was too rejoiced himself.

Yet before long an unpleasant little thought was tapping like a woodpecker in his own brain. What is to become of me when my illegal share in this happy event is revealed? And no one, not even the boy himself, seems to be going to give a thought to that. But he was ashamed of this selfish reflection, and lest he should betray any preoccupation with his own safety, abstained from reminding the fugitive for the second time that he ought

not to show himself yet, merely announcing that, to his regret, he must hurry off to keep an appointment in Tartin. He should probably be back late. So, remember Mr. Touchwood's orders, Raoul, he said, as he left him. And at nine o'clock sharp.

A pleasant dreams to you tonight. Raoul did not feel sure about the night, but he had one here and now, an enchanting day-dream, in which Juliana sat beside him still, and he was able to say all the things he had left unsaid, and in which he thought at first much less of the great news which he had brought him than of to-morrow, when she would come again, and he could gaze at her anew.

But, after a while, he did think of it, absorbedly. How could it really be that he was practically a free man, about to be sent back to France, after all his struggles and shifts by the British government itself? He saw the news arriving at Les Sables-Lièges, and Mamon reading his letter in her bedroom with the old-fashioned furniture, and running with it to his father in the library of the

under the portrait of that forbidding-looking ancestor in the buff coat who had fought with Tuguen. And then they would both tell Adrien, and perhaps in the orchard, where she would be supervising the harvesting of those apple trees that he and she used so assiduously to climb.

And then, a little later, there would be his mother in his arms, his father saying that ashamed of him, and Adrien hearing how he had impersonated her. And to make this dream true he had only to present himself at the transport office, to meet this grateful Major of the Third Foot, and establish his identity. Hagaoul, lying with his hands behind his head, suddenly became so still that the robin which

he had been trying to tame did a light for a moment on his foot, and cocked its head at him. But the young man never even saw that this signal of favour had been accorded to him. A thought like a dark cloud had suddenly obscured the golden horizon. It was not so simple as all that.

How could he go and present himself at the transport office and establish his identity without terribly injuring Hervey Barrington? A month ago he had been reported drowned by Captain Barrington himself. How was it that he had not been drowned, and where had he been all the time? He would not tell the authorities, of course, not even if they refused the cartel in consequence.

How but the danger was that they would find out. And if they did, they would find not only that Captain Barrington had concealed him for weeks, but that he had deliberately told a lie to cover his action, and told it in black and white in an official report. The discovery could hardly harm him, since even at the time he was destined for a pardon.

But for Hervey Barrington it would mean utter ruin. And was he to go lightly off to France and leave him to that? Hagaoul suddenly became very nervous. Suppose someone were to look over the wall now and see him. And suppose some inquisitive stranger were to come into the garden.

To think that he had only been stopped by Captain Barrington from walking openly out to Lord Falgrave's carriage. He shivered, rang the bell at his elbow, and got off the couch. And when Mrs. Jeremy appeared in answer to this summons, demanded to enter the house on the plea that it was getting cold, on which he was led back and scolded for not having

rung earlier. But the offer of a fire he refused, saying that he should soon go to bed, and so laboriously ascended the stairs to the morning room. Once alone there he took up a book, threw it down, sat in the window seat, and looked at the estuary, the Kestrel, the opposite shore, rosy with a sunset.

This must be talked over. But with whom? Hervey would say, go and claim your freedom, and never mind about me. Juliana Forrest, who had brought it to him, would hardly urge him to throw it away. What was he to do?

For some twenty minutes he sat there thinking it over, till all at once he heard Jeremy's heavy foot pounding rapidly up the stairs, and the coxswain put his head in. Oh, you're here, sir. I— He was out of breath.

Oh, come in, said Goll, from the window seat. Oh, what is it? And then, seeing his alarmed discomposure, he got up. Oh, not an accident to Captain Barrington, I hope. No, sir, said Jeremy.

Worse. He came nearer and dropped his voice. Mr. Rowle, they've heard. Oh, no need to ask what or who they were. Oh, great God, said Goll.

Are they after me? But I'm— Nay, not after you, interrupted Jeremy contemptuously. After him, because of you. When I were out this afternoon, he went on, still breathlessly.

I fell in with one of the Coast Guards and stopped to pass the time of day. And after some talk, he says, seems to me there my great interest took sudden in that French prisoner as was drowned here last month, says he. Why, what ever do we mean, says I, feeling like a man do when he see a squall coming sudden out of the north east and him carrying too much sail.

What do we mean, Jan? Why, says he then. Only this afternoon there was a lady and gentleman from Lunen asking about him, and we sent them on to Captain Barrington, as saw it happen. And blow me if now on top of that there ain't a Navy lieutenant asking the very same questions,

only more of him, where the prisoner come from, just whereabouts he would drown, whether it was thought there was any smugglers aiding and abetting of him, and so on. So I says to him, you go and see Captain Barrington, sir, he'll tell you all there is to know. Yes, I'm going to see Captain Barrington in any case, says he. Well, asked Cole, who was oddly breathless too, as Jeremy paused.

After that, presumed Jeremy, I come back as fast as I can and finds out from Hannah that no Navy lieutenant ain't arrived. But don't you go flattering yourself, Mr. Rowle, he's been here right enough five minutes ago. And what happened, asked Cole, feeling slightly sick. Oh, he asks for Captain Barrington.

I says he'm away from Stowey and won't be back till late. At that he looks almost as if he meant to wait, but I weren't going to let him into the house. So he says, looking grim like, that he'll come again in the morning, seeing as he must see Captain Barrington in person, nor he wouldn't leave no message. Had some kind of a paper in his hand too, but he put it back in his pocket and goes off, looking

well, as an officer looks when it's a matter of the bosons mate and the cat on nine tails. He was probably some friend or acquaintance of Captain Barrington's urged Cole, though he did not believe it. Captain Barrington cocks and snorted. How precious few were them, as I don't know by sight, one way or the other. And moreover, when I ask him if he'll leave his name, he says, no, it's not known to Captain Barrington.

No, no, sir, he'd come from the Admiralty to make inquiries, and perhaps to take the Captain back to London. Take my word for it, they've heard something. Else why should he have gone asking all these questions of the Coast Guards? Now the Captain's got an answer for it all. Cole sat down again, turning whiter and whiter. I've always said, went on, this new Jeremy, now so fiercely loquacious, that he didn't ought to have done it.

And him, as it were, under their lordship's displeasure already, though he was acquitted at the court-martial. And quite right, too, for if ever. His hearer was on his feet. What in God's name are you talking about? What court-martial? We haven't never told you why he's on half-pay. On the shelf.

I didn't know he was on half-pay. I thought he was on leave. You gave me to understand so. Leave? An officer like him? In wartime? Said Jeremy scornfully. No, him eating his heart out these two years, and all along of the Suffolk lost off the Sillies through no fault of his. And if ever there had been a chance of his getting another ship, as was always said he would, because he left the court without any sort of blame being put upon him. Well, it don't look much like it now, do it, harboring a French prisoner and lying about it, as I always said he were crazed to do.

And now, if it's been found out. He made a short, dramatic pause, during which Cole subsided once more onto the window seat and put his head against the mullion, speechless. So this was the explanation of the sad sternness of Captain Barrington's face and repose. And for his sake he had weighted the scale against himself still further. How they always say, as it's bad luck to save a man from drowning, resumed the sailor darkly. He'm sure to do you an injury in the end.

Cole got up, steadying himself by the sill. Oh, Jeremy, and that's Captain Barrington's sailing boat, isn't it? Bien, the moment it is dark, you can start for some place on the coast, anywhere, and just turn me out there. As long as I'm out of this house and no one sees me go, nothing can be proved. There was a feverish flush on his cheek.

You'd not get far, said Jeremy, eyeing him dubiously. Oh, that would not matter, so long as I was not here. Jeremy considered a moment. No, not without Captain Barrington's orders. I couldn't do that. Oh, but you fool, said Cole impatiently. He would never give them.

How don't you know him better than that? This must be done unknown to him before he returns. But he'd soon see the kestrel was gone, objected Jeremy, and a sailing boat easy tracked by other folk. Then what are we to do? asked Cole. You want to get rid of me at once, I suppose, and just as much or more than I want to go. But I cannot walk far. It is no good pretending it.

I cannot hire a conveyance here. Couldn't you row me somewhere in the little boat? How the skiff! I've got her bottom up in the garden for caulking of her seams. I seem leaking a bit. I couldn't go rowing no distance in her. I'll get another boat, then, from somewhere. I won't have to answer a mort of questions.

No. I'll see what can be done to the skiff, between now and dark, and maybe I can get her ship-shape enough to put you across the river, sir. And that would be better than nothing. Cole put his hand to his head, which was beginning to ache. Yes, and I must go after Captain Barrington's return, not before.

Then he will not find out until morning. Oh, don't let Mrs. Jeremy know, either. What time do you think? Jeremy reflected deeply. There's no moon to speak of. Sun rises about half past five.

I'll have to slip out without waking Hannah, for she'd certain sure stop me. I should say as near three o'clock as possible, sir. Very well. And try and bring me some food to take with me. I will save what I can for my supper. I must have a map of some kind, too. Do you know where Captain Barrington keeps this?

But Jeremy did not know. And where would you be thinking of making for, sir? Upon my soul, I don't know, answered Cole and laughed. When Jeremy was gone, he hunted vainly in the bookcase and drawers for a map, and then fell to writing a note for Hervey,

for there was no point in leaving him in the dark as to why he was running away. He wrote it stumblingly. It sounded to him cold and dry, compared with what he felt towards him, and the message he asked Hervey to convey to Miss Forrest, more inadequate still. He supposed he should leave this note on his pincushion, like a heroine of romance.

Acutely depressed, he went upstairs, undressed, and got into bed. He must not excite Mrs. Jeremy's suspicions. It was the last time she would bring him a meal, the last time he should have a comfortable presence beside him. And apparently he was not to enjoy even that bittersweet consolation,

for it was his fellow conspirator who brought him his supper. Why, I got Hannah to let me do it, he whispered, so absorbed by intrigue that the bowl of soup nearly slid off the tray onto its destined recipient. Now, if you'll be ready, sir, from two o'clock onwards, I'll come so soon as I can give Hannah the slip.

I've been overhauling this gif. The door opened. What are you worrying Mr. Rowell about that boat for? Ask the voice of his spouse, as she came in after all. Oh, he isn't interested in that.

Now, Mr. Rowell, you eat up your soup, or you won't be looking your best if the beautiful young lady comes to see you again tomorrow. You stayed up too long, as it was. Now what are you waiting for, Jeremy? Rolling a conspiratorial eye towards the bed, John Jeremy reluctantly departed.

Oh, yes, it would be funny if it were not otherwise. Rowell obediently consumed his soup, but his eyes followed Mrs. Jeremy as she went and pulled to the window curtains. Oh, I shan't bring your breakfast till a bit later tomorrow, she announced. No good comes of invalids being waked too early.

Behind her back, the invalid smiled a pale smile. Presently she came and stood by him. Well, my dear, and a beautiful young lady she is indeed. What's that under your pillow? A bread? I thought I might be hungry in the night, muttered Raoul shame-facedly.

For my dear life, don't put it there. You'll have nasty crumbs all down the bed. She rescued the slice. I'll leave it on the table, covered over. Oh, but don't let me hear of your being awake in the night to eat it. Oh, no, very well, you shall not hear of it, promised her charge,

on which she tucked him in, saying, Now go to sleep, for I wouldn't keep awake for the captain if I was you and dream of your visitors. Mrs. Jeremy, said Raoul, will you kiss me? Well, I never, exclaimed Mrs. Jeremy.

Then she saw that he was not joking or near it. What's the matter with you this evening? Well, there, my dear, she added quite simply, How to tell truth, I've often thought of doing it, and I dare say the beautiful young lady wouldn't mind.

After the salute and her departure, Raoul did blow out the candle and try to go to sleep while he could, but kaleidoscopic visions of past and future kept forming and reforming in his brain, till at last one dominated the rest and stayed. Julianna Forrest coming to this house tomorrow, full of her generous plans,

to find him fled in the night with scarcely a word, the safety she had brought him after such long endeavours flung away. Would she understand that he must do it? Surely, surely, her past conduct showed it. Yet, after all, she was a woman, and it would seem an affront to her

to find him gone, and gone with her, to claim his freedom in such haste that he could not wait to see her again. No, it was intolerable that she should think that, when, as far as he could see, he never would be able to claim it because of Captain Barrington.

When, indeed, if he were recaptured in the next few days. The chances of that for about ten to one. He would certainly be taken back to the Hulks. But he must explain this more fully than in his message. He must write a letter to Julianna also.

He re-lit the candle, found writing materials, began, and then paused miserably. Which would be worse for her to hear, and that he, throwing away the pardon she had so miraculously won for him, was going to allow himself, most probably, to be taken back to the inferno from which she had rescued him,

or that he was going to attempt to leave England without ever seeing her again. Sitting up in his bed, the harassed young man groaned and ran his hand through his hair. His conduct would surely appear to her unpardonable. Nevertheless, though distracted, he did not waver.

He had no choice but to act thus and slay his hopes. Hopes of what? He had none. It was only that he would give ten years of his life to see her again. At any rate, the most sensible thing was to explain clearly what he was about to do,

and why, and ask her to try to forgive him. He set to work, and gradually the pencil ran on hard-foot. When he saw how much he had written, he was astonished, and without reading it over, he thrust it under his pillow, blew out the candle, and, lying hastily down, closed his eyes.

For ten years he had been waiting for the time to come, and, with his eyes, Fried heard Herve's step on the stair, and could not trust himself to speak to him. The door opened softly, and Captain Barrington, shading a candle with his hand, came in,

while Raoul lay motionless, watching him under his lashes. He crept on tiptoe to the bed, as careful as one who fears to wake a child, stood over him a moment studying him, and then he and the candle vanished toward the historic cupboard. In another moment he came back with something white hanging over his arm,

put the candle down, and proceeded to arrange this white object over Raoul's feet. Apparently it was the coverlet of Miss Lavinia's bed. Raoul's heart went out to him in an almost painful impulse. No, decidedly he could not speak to him. If only he had it in his power to make him more than the negative return

for all his goodness which he was about to make. At least he would make that willingly. He did, he did, even though the cost was so heavy, and regret, and relinquishment. But what is it to relinquish a dream, less than a dream? Herve Barrington had risked for him something much more solid than that.

Goodbye, my dear Barrington, he said within himself. God bless you and give you your heart's desire.