CHAPTER VIII
Lady Elizabeth does not know the Marquisde Richemont
Before he could answer, an order came for the prisoner to be brought forward. After ascending a flight of worn stone steps and going through a long dark passage, a great door was thrown open at its end, and he was confronted by a blaze of light which dazzled him at first, until, his eyes becoming accustomed to the illumination, he realized that he stood on the threshold of a splendid hall in the old keep, which had possibly once been the banqueting hall of the castle. Long lancet windows upon one side, their leaded frames filled with rich painted glass, looked out upon the sea, whose waves beating ceaselessly upon the bluff below filled the room with a subdued murmur like a strain of hushed and vibrant music, such was the elevation of the tower.
The room was massively and splendidly furnished with heavy antique furniture. The stone walls were covered with hangings of rich old tapestry from the famous looms of Arras. Here and there were portraits of distinguished members of the Westbrooke family, – women renowned for their lustrous beauty, or men who, holding the castle at different times, had made their names famous by their bravery and skill. The prisoner's feet sank into a thick, soft, luxurious carpet stretched upon the stone flags of the old floor.
Writing at a large table standing near the centre of the room and covered with candelabra, sat a bewigged old man of commanding presence dressed in a naval uniform covered with orders and stars bespeaking high rank. Farther away, with her back turned to the light, and to the door by which he had entered, a young woman sat, apparently reading intently. One glance at the graceful curve of her neck and the exquisite poise of her head told him it was she. Forgetful of everything else, he would have stepped forward, had it not been for the restraining hand of the sergeant.
"The prisoner, m' Lud," said the latter, saluting.
The admiral continued his writing a moment, and then looking up fixed his eyes keenly upon the young man. His first glance told him that he had to deal with no ordinary prisoner. He rose at once and bowed with the courtesy of a finished gentleman.
"Have the goodness to step forward, sir, and be seated," he said, pointing to the chair. "Sergeant, remain on guard where you are."
With an equally low bow to the older man, O'Neill took a few steps in his direction and sat down on the indicated chair in front of the admiral, facing him and the woman beyond, who, still intent upon her book or lost in thought, had not yet noticed his entrance. Prisoners, in fact, being every-day occurrences at the castle in these troublous times, they had ceased to interest her; still the unusual complaisance of the old man, as expressed by his voice and manner, attracted her attention; she looked up from the book without turning her head, and listened.
"I am sorry to subject you to any annoyance, sir," continued the admiral, "but the rules are very strict, and I must abide by my own regulations. We apprehend a descent upon our coast by the notorious pirate, John Paul Jones-" O'Neill started violently and bit his lip, but said nothing-"and it is my duty to take unusual precautions," added the speaker. "I must ask your name, your station, and business here."
"I am the-" said O'Neill, quietly, but with his glance fixed on the powdered head showing over the chair-back opposite him.
There was a commotion at the other side of the table. Lady Elizabeth sprang to her feet with a hurried exclamation, dropped her book to the floor, and then turned quickly, and stepped toward the other two. O'Neill and the admiral both rose at the same time.
She was en grande tenue, her hair rolled high and powdered, jewels sparkling about the snowy throat, which rose from the pale blue silk of her corsage.
"It is-" she cried.
"The Marquis de Richemont, at your service, mademoiselle," O'Neill interrupted quickly, bowing low before her, fearing lest in her surprise she would betray him.
"Good heavens, Elizabeth! what is the meaning of this? Do you know this man?" asked the admiral, in great astonishment.
"Every traveller," smilingly interrupted O'Neill, suavely, striving to give Elizabeth time to collect herself, with the appearance of the greatest sangfroid himself, though his heart was beating so rapidly he could scarce maintain his composure, "on these islands has heard of the beauty of Lady Elizabeth Howard. Her reputation as a woman of charm has even extended to the continent whence I come. It was in the hope of having the privilege of seeing her that I walked up toward the castle this evening. I have not the honor of her acquaintance, monsieur."
"Do you know this man, Elizabeth?" persisted the admiral, sternly, his suspicions aroused by her actions.
There was evidently some mystery about his coming, and the girl was quick to see that to proclaim O'Neill's name and occupation would probably place him in an embarrassing position, to say the least. She recovered herself by a great effort, and turning away languidly, remarked with well-assumed carelessness, -
"I? Certainly not, sir. I have never heard of the Marquis de Richemont before in my life." The statement was absolutely correct, the Irishman's rank having been kept strictly in abeyance. O'Neill shrugged his shoulders and extended his hands in confirmation of her words.
"Why that cry, then, and your surprise, madam?" questioned the still unconvinced admiral.
"I know not, sir; I must have been dreaming, and the sound of a strange voice startled me."
"Beg pardon, m' Lud," said the sergeant, saluting; "yer Worship, he axed if Lady Elizabeth Howard lived 'ere, wen he was down in the courtyard."
"Silence, sirrah!" thundered the old admiral, who allowed no one to entertain doubts of his ward but himself. "Do you mean to imply that Lady Elizabeth has knowledge of this gentleman?"
"Oh, sergeant!" said the girl, clasping her hands and looking at the old veteran with all the fascination of which she was capable.
"No, yer Ludship, no, sir. O' course not; certainly not, yer Honor," returned the man, in great confusion. "I spoke by way o' showin' that's wot he come for."
"It was in pursuance of my desire to see so great a beauty that I asked the question, monsieur."
"Sir, your admiration does me too much honor," said Elizabeth, courtesying.
"I make up for the fact that your reputation does your Ladyship too little, then, mademoiselle," he answered.
"Enough of this," said the admiral, impatiently. "The girl is well enough; but you didn't come here to look at her, did you?"
"On my honor as a gentleman, monsieur, for no other purpose."
"Well, give some account of yourself otherwise, and perhaps if it be satisfactory, as you have accomplished that purpose, I may send you on your way rejoicing," said the admiral, amused at the extravagance of the young man.
"No man could leave the presence of Lady Elizabeth Howard rejoicing, sir."
"Damnation, sir!" cried the governor, testily, "are you going to stand here and bandy compliments about all day like a French dancing-master?"
"I have nothing further to urge for my words, my Lord, when my excuse stands in your very presence."
The governor looked at the two young people in great perplexity.
"I fear, my dear Marquis de Richemont," said he ironically, "unless you can give some more coherent account of yourself, I shall be under the painful necessity of having you locked up, in which case the only divinity you will be allowed to gaze upon will be the lovely face and figure of yonder sergeant."
"Yes, yer Ludship, I-" remarked the sergeant, grimacing.
"Silence, sirrah!" thundered the admiral.
"My Lord," answered O'Neill, smiling, "it is very simple. I am an officer in the navy of the King of France, making a tour of England for pleasure. I came here to this town this evening. I hear of the great admiral, Lord Westbrooke, in his great castle, and the beauty of his ward, Lady Elizabeth Howard. I am a lover of the beautiful. I stand on the causeway gazing at the castle. Your soldiers arrest me and bring me here. I rejoice to find Lady Elizabeth more beautiful than I have dreamed. A year and a half have only intensified her charms."
"A year and a half! Dreams, sir! What mean you by that, pray? What have the years to do with the matter? Did you see her a year and a half since?" cried the admiral, suspiciously again.
O'Neill started; it was a fatal slip, but he hastened to repair it as best he could.
"I have seen her picture, sir."
"And where, pray, have you seen her picture?"
"In the possession of an English officer, a friend of mine whom I met at Liverpool a year and a half ago," answered O'Neill, audaciously.
"And who was this English officer, pray, who displayed my picture?" interrupted Elizabeth, with an appearance of great agitation.
"Major Edward Coventry, mademoiselle."
"Oh, Edward! Why, God bless me," said the admiral, genially, "he is my son. Do you mean to tell me you are a friend of his? Why didn't you say so before?"
"I had the honor of his acquaintance," said O'Neill, bowing gravely, "on one very interesting and memorable occasion indeed, when he was on duty at the Château Birkenhead, I believe."
"Yes, that would be about a year and a half ago. Sir, in that case you are very welcome to this castle," said the admiral, "and now I beg leave to present you in due and proper form to my ward. Lady Elizabeth Howard, permit me to introduce to you the Marquis de Richemont."
"I am charmed to have the pleasure of meeting the marquis," responded the girl, smiling and courtesying deeply.
"The pleasure and the honor are mine, mademoiselle," responded O'Neill, fully entering upon the comedy of the moment.
"And," continued the admiral, "as my son, Major Edward Coventry, has sent me word he will be here shortly, you can renew your acquaintance with him."
It was as if he had exploded a bomb-shell in the room.
"Edward! Coming here?" cried Elizabeth, her voice filled with terror at the unfortunate event, which she vainly endeavored to conceal. "What for? Why did you not tell me?"
"He desired to surprise you, my dear," answered the admiral, wondering again at her agitation; "you know your wedding takes place next week."
"Ah, a wedding!" said O'Neill, starting and looking at Elizabeth. "Mademoiselle is then to marry?"
"Yes, your friend Major Coventry," replied the old man, – "an old engagement."
"I refused to marry him for a year, and for six months more. I waited all that time. There was no word," she said slowly to O'Neill, as if each word were wrung from her by his intent look, her pale cheeks flooded with color.
"Have you taken leave of your senses, Elizabeth?" continued the admiral, in great surprise; "of what interest to a stranger is your-er-maidenly hesitation?"
"Anything which concerns so fair a lady is of deep interest to your humble servant," answered O'Neill, ironically and bitterly. The comedy had gone, tragedy, as ever, following hard upon it.
A door at the rear of the room was opened softly at this moment; and a young man in the brilliant scarlet uniform of a British officer, entered and stepped lightly toward them. His glance fell first upon the speaker.
"Barry O'Neill, by heaven!" he exclaimed, springing eagerly forward with outstretched hand. "How came you here?" For a moment the young soldier was oblivious of the presence of his father and his betrothed. His untimely entrance filled the room with apprehension and dismay.
CHAPTER IX
The Picture on the Wall
"O'Neill?" said the admiral, in much bewilderment; "Edward, this is your friend, the Marquis de Richemont."
"Edward, do not speak!" cried Lady Elizabeth, distractedly.
"Ah, Elizabeth, my love and duty to you, but not speak? About what, pray? What mean you?"
"Is this gentleman, the Marquis de Richemont, your friend or not, sir? Cease this by-play, Elizabeth; I will have an explanation," demanded the now thoroughly aroused admiral.
"My friend? Quite so," said Major Coventry, smiling. "Though I was ignorant that he was a marquis, he is none the less welcome. I am exceedingly glad to see him again. You too, I presume, Elizabeth?"
"Glad even as you are," she replied deliberately, now seeing that further concealment was useless.
"But you called him O'Neill," continued the admiral.
"That is my name, sir," said O'Neill, calmly, recognizing the uselessness of further evasion. "I am one of the Irish O'Neills, formerly of County Clare, now in the service of the King of France." He could not have said it more proudly had he been the king himself.
"The last time I saw you, you were on the Ranger, that American Continental ship," continued Coventry.
"As a prisoner, sir?" cried the admiral.
"As an officer, my Lord," answered the Irishman.
"What, sir! And now you are-"
"Second lieutenant of the American Continental ship Bon Homme Richard, Captain John Paul Jones, at your service," was the dauntless reply.
"Good gad!" said the admiral, "is it possible? And you, Elizabeth, you have deceived me also. You knew this man?"
"Yes, sir, but not as the Marquis de Richemont."
"You have met this gentleman before?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where, may I ask, and when?"
"About a year and a half since, sir. You remember when the Maidstone was wrecked? He saved me from death then, and after Captain Jones put me ashore, you know-"
"He spared my life too, as well, sir, at that time," said Coventry; "they both did."
"You seem to be a good hand at saving lives, Lieutenant O'Neill, Marquis de Richemont, perhaps you can think now of some way of saving your own," remarked the admiral, sarcastically.
"'Tis useless to me now, my Lord, and not worth the saving," answered the young man, calmly; "but I would not have you mar the approaching nuptials of your son and ward by an execution. Let me at least live until after the wedding. I shall be more willing to die then," he added softly.
"You came here for what purpose?" continued the admiral, disregarding the latter words of the young man as utterly irrelevant.
"To find out the number and force and disposition of the ships in the harbor."
"At the instance of-"
"Captain Jones, sir."
"The murdering pirate!"
"I have resented such language and proved its falsity upon the person of your son, sir," burst out O'Neill, stepping forward, his hand upon his sword. "Shall I impose the same lesson on the father?"
"You are a prisoner, sir," replied the admiral, imperturbably, "and are here at my pleasure to receive, not to give lessons. Stand back, sir! Sergeant, bring in a file of men for a guard. Deliver up your sword at once, sir, to Major Coventry!"
"Your Lordship is master here; I obey," answered the Irishman, shrugging his shoulders, and drawing his sword, he tendered it to Major Coventry, who stepped forward reluctantly to receive it.
"Father," he said respectfully, "so far as my knowledge goes, Captain Jones is certainly a gentleman. Had it not been for his magnanimity and that of my friend-I may still call you that, sir?"
"I am vastly honored, sir, I am sure."
" – my friend, the Marquis de Richemont, you would be childless to-day. Had it not been for the courage of this gentleman, Lady Elizabeth here-"
"Oh, sir!" cried Elizabeth, impetuously, "they are men of honor. I pray you release this officer and let him go free. Nay, never shake your head; I ask it as a wedding gift to me, sir."
"My liberty your wedding gift, mademoiselle? Never!" interrupted O'Neill, firmly.
"Say no more, either of you," said the admiral, decisively. "You, sir, came here as an enemy, a spy."
"Not so, sir. I came here in the uniform of a French officer."
"But that is not the uniform of the flag under which you now serve," continued the admiral, keenly. "You may secure some consideration, however, at my hands as representing his Majesty the King, God bless him! by revealing the circumstances and plans and the ultimate purpose of your rebellious captain."
"Clearly an impossible proposition," said O'Neill, bowing.
"But stop!" said the admiral, "now that I recall it, you gave me your word of honor that you came here to see this lady."
"And that is true, sir. I might have escaped to my ship with ease, in possession of the information I desired to get, but I came up to the castle to see her."
"A most foolish excursion, sir, and why, pray?"
"Because I love her," said O'Neill, calmly.
"What!" cried Coventry, in great surprise and dismay. "Did you know this, Elizabeth?"
"Is a woman ever ignorant of the feelings she excites in a lover's breast, sir?" O'Neill answered for her.
"And have you-did you-" continued Coventry, looking still at Elizabeth.
"Lady Elizabeth has done nothing, sir. No word of affection has ever crossed her lips, to me at least," again replied O'Neill. "She would not even wait."
"Oh, but she did," interrupted Coventry, jealously, "a year-six months-she tried to postpone her wedding for six months more. I begin to understand."
"Peace, Edward!" said Elizabeth, trembling violently; "the Marquis de Richemont is-is nothing to me-can never be anything to me, that is. The wedding shall proceed at the appointed date; I gave you my word. It was the wish of my mother, the wish of the admiral, your wish-"
"And yours, also, dearest Elizabeth, is it not?" said Coventry, taking her hand entreatingly. She hesitated and stood silent.
"Have me executed at once, sir, in mercy and pity," said O'Neill to the admiral; "let it be now-the sooner the better. This I cannot stand; 'tis too much."
"Not so," replied the admiral, gravely; "I will consider the matter further and consult with you again. Meanwhile, if you will give me your parole, I will allow you the freedom of the castle."
"Parole! 'Tis given, sir. Faith, I hardly think you could drive me away."
"That's well," returned the admiral. "Sergeant, call my steward and have him assign chambers to the Marquis de Richemont. Coventry, I presume you will place your wardrobe at his disposal in case he needs anything. Now the marquis will doubtless wish to retire. We will see him in the morning. Come, Elizabeth. Good-night, sir; the sergeant will attend you."
"Lord Westbrooke, I thank you. Major Coventry, your servant. Lady Elizabeth, I wish you joy on your wedding; good-night," replied the young man, bowing to them all in succession.
As the admiral and the others left the room, the young lieutenant sank down on his chair and put his head upon his hands upon the table. The old sergeant, who had seen it all, watched him a moment in silence. Walking up to him finally, and laying his hand on his shoulder with the familiarity of a privileged character, he said, -
"Come now, sir, be a soldier."
"You can give no worse advice than that to a sailor, my friend," replied O'Neill, rising and smiling in spite of his misery. "Lead on, I will follow," he added.
As they passed down the great hall, the eyes of the wretched lieutenant fell upon a large picture hanging rather low on the wall in a far corner above a dais near the doorway. It was the portrait of a beautiful woman in the fashion of some fifty years back. She was seated in a great carved oak chair, the counterpart of and evidently painted from one sitting beneath it. In face and feature the portrait was a striking likeness of Lady Elizabeth Howard. The skill of the painter had been so great, the colors had been so nicely chosen, so delicately laid on, that in the flickering, uncertain candle-light, which left this part of the room in a rather deep shadow, the picture actually seemed to breathe. O'Neill stopped as if petrified.
"Come along, sir," said the sergeant, gruffly.
"A moment, if you please, my friend-a moment. What sort of a man are you to pass by such as this without notice? It should be Lady Elizabeth, but the fashion of the dress-"
"It's her mother, sir, a cousin of the admiral's. I pass it every day, sir, an' I've got so I don't take no notice on it, no more. She was a young thing, scarce older than her young Leddyship when she set for that paintin', an' they had no children for years, leastaways they all died till this baby was born, an' then she died too. I've been attached to the admiral's service in one way or another sence I was a boy, an' dandled her many a time on my knee. Yes, and her young Leddyship, Lady Elizabeth that is, too, wen she was a little girl."
"My regard for you goes up a thousand-fold, my friend," said O'Neill, smiling; "I could almost envy you your opportunities. Would I had been you!"
"'Tain't no use wishin' that," said the old sergeant, shaking his head; "there never was no Frenchman could ever take my place."
"Quite right," replied O'Neill, smiling; "'twould be clearly impossible."
"Come along, then, yer Honor."
"Stay a moment," returned the enraptured Irishman; "a year at gaze would not sate me with the beauty of this picture. How like is the fair image!" murmured the entranced young man, approaching nearer and fairly holding his breath under the influence of the moment. He stretched out his hand toward the painting with a little reverential gesture.
"Look out, sir!" said the sergeant, warningly; "the picture hangs very loose, an' the frame-"
What evil fate was it that determined its fall at that moment? There was a tremendous crash, something gave way, and the great frame dropped from its place on the wall and fell across the heavy oaken chair which stood beneath it, and the picture was impaled upon its Gothic points. The two men sprang to seize it and lift it up. Alas! it had been literally torn to pieces. The canvas had evidently been originally a defective one, for it had split in every direction. Restoration was clearly impossible.
"Good Heaven!" said the Irishman, "what a misfortune!"
"It had to come, an' it's too late to be mended now," said the sergeant, philosophically, "so we must get on."
"Very good," said O' Neill, tenderly lifting the frame, with the rags of the tattered canvas hanging to it, back against the wall; "there is nothing to keep us here now. Unlucky fool that I am, even the semblance of the original is not for me!"