The Brown Mask Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  A WOMAN REBELS

  The Abbey awoke earlier than usual this morning. It would be some hoursyet before Mrs. Dearmer, radiant from the hands of her maid, came forthto face the world and God's good sun, and there were men with headsracked from last night's deep potations who would still lie abed andcurse their ill-luck; but there was noisy bustle in the stable yards,the champing of bits and jingling of harness, and in the servants'quarters a hurrying to and fro with eager haste, and a pungentatmosphere of cooking food. Lord Rosmore was starting for Dorsetshirewithin the hour, and his men were being fed with that liberality forwhich the Abbey was famous.

  Barbara sat on one of the stone seats let into the wall overlooking thestream. Lord Rosmore would see her there and come for his answer. Shehad no intention of trying to escape the interview; she had no doubtwhat answer she would give, yet there was trouble in her heart. The maskof brown silk which lay concealed in the bosom of her dress struck atthe very roots of her belief in a man's truth and honour. Lord Rosmorehad told her no falsehood, no made-up tale to suit his own purposes asshe supposed, and it was impossible for her not to think less harshly ofhim as she saw him come out on to the terrace with her uncle. Sir John,with some jesting remark, walked slowly in the opposite direction, andLord Rosmore came quickly towards her. He bowed low with that gracewhich had made him famous amongst men, and which no woman had everattempted to deny him. There was not a cloud upon his brow, and a littlesmile played at the corners of his mouth as though he had alreadyreceived his answer--the answer he desired.

  "On such a gracious morning as this am I to be made the happiest man onwhom the sun shines, Mistress Lanison?"

  "I asked for a longer time, Lord Rosmore."

  "I wish I could give it," he returned. "There is nothing that I wouldrather do than stay here to convince you how true and deep my love is;but, alas! duty calls me away upon no pleasant mission."

  "But you will return," said Barbara.

  "Not for some weeks, I fear, and in them what may not happen? I wouldtake my happiness with me--your promise--not wait in anxious doubt."

  "Love has not come to me yet; it might come when you return," Barbarasaid. "Without love I will not give my promise to any man."

  "Love will come," was the answer; "and, besides, love is not the wholeof marriage. There are other reasons often--indeed, almost always--forgiving a promise."

  "Is it bargaining, you mean?"

  "I would not call it by such a name," said Rosmore. "The alliance whichsatisfies parents and guardians, which sends a man and a woman walkingside by side along a worthy road in the world, giving each to each whatthe other lacks, a good, useful comradeship which keeps at arm's lengththe world's cares, surely this makes a true marriage, and into it,believe me, love will come."

  "It may, Lord Rosmore, but I am not yet persuaded that the road isworthy, nor that such a comradeship between us could bring good. Believeme, you will be far wiser to give me time. Wait for your answer untilyou return."

  "I fear to find the bird stolen," he said.

  "I am not so desirable a possession as you imagine," she answered, withan effort to bring an element of banter into the interview.

  "You cannot see yourself at this moment, Mistress Lanison, or you wouldnot say so. I must have your answer. Are there not many, many reasonswhy you should give me your promise?"

  "You will come to this lower level of bargaining," said Barbara.

  "I have no choice."

  "I have shown you a wise road to take," she answered; "wait until youcome back from Dorsetshire."

  "I cannot wait."

  "Then if we bargain, Lord Rosmore, you must remember that there arealways two sides to a bargain. You do not show me Martin Fairley a freeman."

  "I can hardly set free a man I have not taken prisoner. Martin and thehighwayman succeeded in getting away from the Abbey last night. Until wesaw you leaning from your window, Sir John was absurd enough to declarethat you must have warned them."

  "My uncle seems strangely anxious to make a rebel of me," said Barbara."I hold to our bond. Martin Fairley is not here, therefore I give nopromise this morning."

  "I do not remember agreeing to such a bargain," said Rosmore.

  "It pleases me," said Barbara, "and helps me to forget that you began bythreatening me. I am not a woman to be frightened by a threat."

  "Then you will give me no promise?"

  "No; but if you persist I will give you an answer, and promise that itshall be a final one."

  "I would spare myself the indignity of a direct repulse," he said, "andI trust I am man enough not to let love blind my eyes to duty. I amafraid you must live to regret your decision, but I may yet find meansto do you a service."

  He turned and left her, and, calling to Sir John that he must departwithout delay, he left the terrace with her uncle, telling him, Barbarahad no doubt, of the ill-success of his interview.

  What was the reason of her uncle's anxiety to force her into thismarriage? Some power Lord Rosmore must surely hold over him. Sir Johnwas afraid, and since he had not scrupled to suggest that she was inleague with rebels, and in the same breath point out in how dangerous aposition this rebellion placed her, there was no knowing to what lengthshe might not go to achieve his ends.

  Later in the day Sir John sent her a courteous message. He did notdemand her presence amongst his guests, but he requested it. Hercontinued absence had been much remarked and questioned, and there weremany reasons why these comments should be silenced. Barbara answeredthat she would comply with his wishes; and that afternoon found her inthe midst of a party on the terrace, listening to Mrs. Dearmer's coarsewit and endeavouring not to shudder at her laugh. It seemed quiteevident that Sir John had not suggested to his guests that they shouldtreat his niece in any special manner, and their conversation was lessreticent than ever.

  "You blush very easily," laughed Mrs. Dearmer, "but that pleases themen. I used to be the same, and devoutly wish I had not lost the art."

  "Could you not regain it?" asked Barbara, and the question was followedby a burst of laughter, more at Mrs. Dearmer's expense than at herquestioner's, perhaps.

  "I'm afraid not. What we gain by experience must be lost in some otherdirection. It is merely a question which you prefer, the gain or theloss."

  "My adorable madam, you go ill with mathematics," said one man,laughing. "Pray tell some tale that will again bring the colour toMistress Lanison's cheek, for I vow she blushes most divinely."

  "At least, sir, the cause can have little connection with heaven," saidBarbara.

  "Waste no words on him, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dearmer. "He has beenso long attached to the opposition that he has forgotten such a place asheaven exists. Tell me why you have deserted us lately. I held that itwas indisposition, others declared it was temper, and others--can youguess what the others said?"

  "Was it something very unkind?" asked Barbara.

  She had walked away with Mrs. Dearmer and one or two others, amongstthem a man named Heriot, to whom Barbara had hardly spoken, but whom shecordially disliked.

  "They said you had a lover," said Mrs. Dearmer.

  "It would have been kinder if they had given me a hundred, wouldn't it?That would, indeed, have been to praise me mightily and declare meirresistible."

  "You will not find women so generous as that," laughed Heriot. "Ithought there was a more subtle meaning in the declaration. In a hundredlovers there might be safety, but in one--ah! it is the persistency ofone which reduces the citadel."

  "I know many who might persist until they were leaning over their grave,and then not succeed," said Barbara, "and the citadel would not need tobe very strongly guarded either."

  "That should hasten your retreat, Mr. Heriot," said Mrs. Dearmer, andthen she drew Barbara a little farther away. "Tell me, are they right?Is there a lover?"

  "You may deny it if you are questioned," Barbara answered.

  "I will. I would not betray such a secret for th
e world. Does he climbto your window when the terrace is empty and silent, or is there somesecret door by which he comes and no one ever the wiser?"

  "Is that what they say?" asked Barbara.

  "Yes, and more," and Mrs. Dearmer put her finger to her lips to warnBarbara that others were close to them and might not keep her secret sofaithfully as she would.

  Barbara did not then understand all that was implied, but within a dayor two she was conscious that her name was being flung from lip to lipwith a laugh and a jest, that, no matter how innocent her words or heractions might be, an evil meaning was twisted out of them and applauded.Even her uncle laughed and seemed to agree when Heriot declared that awoman who was shy in her love affairs was always the most dangerous, andsuggested that Mrs. Dearmer must look to her laurels now that MistressLanison had taken the field against her. To deny the insinuations, or toresent them, was only to make these men and women coarser, and increasethe laughter and ribaldry, so Barbara decided to stay away again. Thistime, however, Sir John did not leave her alone. He sent a peremptorymessage demanding her presence.

  "Tell Sir John I refuse to come, and if he would know my reason I willtell him here."

  The servant hesitated.

  "Sir John is out of temper, mistress. Would it not be better to--"

  "You have my answer," said Barbara.

  Many minutes had not elapsed before there were quick steps along thecorridor, and Sir John burst into the room. The servant had spokenmildly when he said his master was out of temper, and Barbara's answerto his message had made him furious. He slammed the door and faced hisniece.

  "What is the meaning of this gross impertinence, girl? When I bid you doa thing you will do it; do you understand me? I have had more thanenough of your vapours."

  "And I, sir, more than enough of your guests."

  "Do you dare to flout me?" he said with an oath.

  "I dare anything when you forget what is my due from my guardian. Forsome purpose of your own you seem anxious to accuse me of being a rebel,and drag me into this ribald crew to have my ears assailed with allmanner of indecencies, and to hear my own honour called in question."

  "You're a fool, girl."

  "Wise enough to determine that either Mrs. Dearmer and her companionsmust leave Aylingford, or I shall."

  "Curse your impudence!" said Sir John, and before Barbara was aware ofhis intention, he had seized her wrist and commenced to drag her towardsthe door, "Curse your impudence! We will see who is master atAylingford. I shall have what guests I choose, and, by heaven, you shalltreat them as I demand! You may flout Lord Rosmore, but I will see to itthat you obey me."

  "You hurt my wrist, sir."

  "If it brings you to reason, it is perhaps the easiest way for you," heretorted. "Guests that are good enough for me shall be good enough foryou."

  "And if they say I am a scheming light o' love, you, sir, will no doubtfind means to prove that they are right."

  "Gad! your own prudery is doing that. Perhaps I might not have to makemuch inquiry to find that they had seen far more than I have. Much mightgo on in these rooms and the rest of the Abbey be none the wiser."

  Barbara's free hand was suddenly raised to strike him, but she let itfall to her side again. He held her wrist the tighter, and laughed inher face.

  "It is well for you that your daring stops short of that," he sneered.

  "Last night I heard words spoken out of the darkness," said Barbara."'It is a sacred trust,' said a voice; 'God requite you if you fail init. When she is of age give her that which is hers. She is free.Beware.'"

  There was magic in the words. Sir John let go her wrist and startedbackwards with a curious, muffled sound in his throat. His face wassuddenly white with fear, and his trembling hands were linked together,straining at each other. Barbara did not move, and in her motionlessattitude and the fixed gaze in her eyes the man seemed to perceive anadded terror.

  "Who spoke them?" he stammered.

  "A voice out of the darkness."

  "They--they recall--what am I saying? Have your own way to-night; weshall both talk more calmly to-morrow."

  "To-morrow cannot undo to-night, sir. I have decided to ask LadyBolsover to let me visit her for a while. Two days ago I received aletter from her asking me to go to her again."

  "I will see. We will talk of it to-morrow."

  "There is naught to do, sir, but arrange for my journey to town."

  It was almost as one suddenly stricken with a palsy that Sir John leftthe room and stumbled along the corridor. As he passed a man drewhastily back into the shadows, and then went light-footedly to Barbara'sdoor. She had already locked it. He knocked.

  "I have nothing more to say," said Barbara.

  The man chanted a little stave in a low voice, and the door flew open.

  "Martin!"

  "You are in trouble, mistress, you need not tell me. Much I overheard,the rest I can guess. Lord Rosmore has departed. I met him on the road,at least he passed along the road, and I stood in the wood by the sideto see him pass. Mr. Crosby is already busy in Dorsetshire, and I returnto hear you are going to London."

  "Yes, Martin."

  "Dark hours, indeed," he said, "but there is the beam of light."

  "It has gone out. Ah, Martin, you are a dreamer and look at the worldthrough a veil of cloud, while I am a woman prone to trust too easily.We are easy to deceive, you and I."

  "Yes, dreamer as I am, I have recognised much of the falsehood," saidMartin.

  "You like Mr. Gilbert Crosby?"

  "One grows to like a man when you have fought by his side in an awkwardcorner."

  "You would trust him?"

  "Don't you?" asked Martin.

  "He told me something of himself, but it was told to deceive. I foundthat in the ruins, just where he stumbled last night. He dropped it,"and Barbara held out the brown mask which she had drawn from her dress.

  Martin took it and turned it this way and that.

  "He did not tell me that he was Galloping Hermit the highwayman," shesaid.

  "Very strange," said Martin. "Another might have dropped it. Many mentramped that spot that evening. Sir John, Lord Rosmore, and a dozenothers."

  "Yes, and later, Mr. Fellowes," said Barbara. "He came with a despatchcalling Lord Rosmore back into Dorsetshire."

  "Might not Mr. Fellowes have dropped it?" Martin asked.

  "He might. You may find many possibilities, but not probabilities."

  "The famous mask," mused Fairley, "and you find it, mistress. For mypart I have had a kindly thought for the wearer. There are tales abouthim which make him different from other highwaymen."

  "Yes, Martin, I know, but I had almost--ah! you would not understand."

  "I saw the beam of light, and it has now gone out, you say. This wisp ofbrown silk has extinguished it. But consider, might there not be somegreat purpose for a man taking to the road?"

  "There might, Martin."

  "I have heard, mistress, of a great noble who wore fool's motley that hemight the better stand between his King and danger. I have heard of onewho lay bound in chains for years that his friend might be saved. Menhave died for others ever since this world was young."

  "True, Martin."

  "So Galloping Hermit may have some purpose which, did we but know it,would make him a hero to crown rather than a scoundrel to hang. Hisheart may beat honestly; the eyes which looked from these holes--"

  "Were grey, Martin," and there was a catch in Barbara's voice which hercompanion was quick to notice.

  "Courage, mistress, the beam of light is still shining. We must get ridof this."

  "No, give it me. I may see him again and give it to him."

  "And perhaps be mistaken after all," said Martin. "The highwayman haslong since provided himself with another mask, so we may destroy this."

  "No, Martin."

  "Why keep so dangerous a trifle? See, it burns."

  He took the candle and the mask to the hearth, and made sure that notel
l-tale particle of the silk remained.

  "Mistress, it is gone. Be wise, forget that you ever found it," andMartin trampled the ashes into dust.