One of the Six Hundred: A Novel

up like a tragedy queen; "it is false, and cannot be." "Oh, no, it is not false, my dear madam; but unfortunately, is--aw--too true." There was a pause, during which they regarded each other steadily. "Why could he not dine here at eight this evening?" asked Berkeley. "Because duty required his attendance elsewhere, if it is Captain Norcliff to whom you refer, sir; but I shall no longer bandy words here with you." "Duty--doocid good! At that very hour this evening--eight--we shall find them together, if you choose to accompany me." "I, sir, accompany you?" she repeated, disdainfully. "Yes." "To where he is--with her?" "Yes." "Dare you make such a proposition to me?" "I do dare," he replied, with blind fury; "and I tell you further, Lady Louisa Loftus, that this fine and moral young gentleman, Captain Norcliff, has an affair with a girl well known to all our mess; as the French, happily would term her, _une femme entretenue_, of a brother officer--one who has a doocid flaw in her fair fame, and most decided kick in her gallop," he added, coarsely and maliciously, determined at all hazards to ruin me with Louisa, and even with my uncle and cousin, though he could gain nothing thereby. "And you, his friend, tell me of this!" exclaimed Louisa, with withering scorn in her manner, as she played nervously with the rose diamond ring I had given her. "Will you and Miss Calderwood accompany me this evening to the cottage near the Reculvers, and I shall have the pleasure of showing you how our modern Captain Bailey solaces himself in 'country quarters.'" At the mention of this cottage Lady Louisa started, and changed colour visibly, and it was then Berkeley's turn to smile, for certain odd rumours concerning it and its beautiful occupant had reached her through the servants at the park, and more particularly her own attendant; but recollecting her position, she said, loftily and decidedly, while cresting up her haughty head-- "'Tis false, sir! I am indisposed to act the spy, and he will not be there." "Oh, yes, he will be there, be true as a turtle-dove--exact as--haw--the clock at the Horse Guards. We shall find him mingling his tears with those of the Traviata; a philanthropic Howard in a lancer uniform--a very Joseph--haw--haw--'a man of snow?'" "Sir!" exclaimed Lady Loftus, stamping her little foot. "He's been devilish hard up of late--got fifty pounds this morning from the paymaster--so his man told mine; the girl's a dancer, and every one knows they are doocid expensive cattle to keep and shoe." "Sir, you forget yourself!" exclaimed Lady Louisa, while her eyes flashed with an expression of rage, which even her long lashes failed to soften. "Papa and mamma are to dine at the Priory--so this evening I am free, and you shall drive us, that is, Miss Calderwood and me--to that odious cottage, and with my own eyes I shall prove who is false, you or he!" "Agreed, I am quite at your disposal," said he, bowing low. And so ended this singular interview. So ended Berkeley's hopes of all but gratified malice, and they separated, each with anger against the other sparkling in their eyes, and burning in their hearts. * * * * * Louisa at once sought Cora, and related all that had passed--the abrupt proposal and its singular sequel--little knowing that the latter portion of her narrative, like a double-edged sword, cut two ways at once, and how her words stabbed poor Cora to the heart; for the good girl would rather have heard that I was steady and faithful in my regard for her brilliant rival than that I was the creature Berkeley had striven to make me appear. "I have loved your cousin Newton too much to cease doing so now, unless I find him unworthy, when I shall thrust his image from my heart as if I had never seen or known him! and I feel, Cora Calderwood, that I must either love or hate him!" exclaimed Louisa, with a strange energy that quite startled the quiet Scottish girl. "I have a craving to learn his truth or his falsehood, personally and undoubtedly. So you shall come with me, Cora. 'Tis only your cousin you seek!" "Louisa Loftus," she exclaimed. "I cannot, and will not, believe, in this duplicity or depravity of my cousin Newton." "We shall go to this vile woman's cottage, dear, in secret, and learn the truth for ourselves." "Even at the risk of appearing guilty of espionage?" "At all risks!" was the impetuous reply. "That cottage by the Reculvers! Aha! I remember that mamma's _soubrette_ said something about the young person who resides there with an old woman, her mother, or aunt, or something equally veritable and creditable; and added that no one was ever known to visit her, save a gentleman like an officer--mark that, like an officer--who usually came on horseback, and at night." "Oh, Louisa, you do not--you cannot--you shall not believe all those slanders about dear Newton," said Cora, vehemently, in a passion of tears, as she threw herself on the heaving bosom of her more fiery and energetic friend, who, however, wept also. "Did you not remark how pale, almost haggard, poor Newton looked when we saw him with his troop to-day?" "Well, perhaps nocturnal rambles and late rides from the Reculvers----" "Now peace, Lady Loftus, if you would not break my heart," exclaimed Cora, arresting a cutting remark by a kiss on her rosy and tremulous lips. About twilight the pony phaeton again set forth from Chillingham Park with the two young ladies. There was no outrider in attendance on this occasion; and their well-cloaked charioteer was Mr. De Warr Berkeley, who was very silent, to whom they never spoke, and who, to tell the truth, felt somewhat ill at ease now, and scarcely knew where the whole affair would end. One fact he was certain of. He knew, from past experience, and my general character when serving in India, that I was not to be trifled with. He would, perhaps, have backed out of the whole matter, could he have seen how to do so. Then Louisa was inflexible, though Cora was almost passive. The ladies felt that, even were the information true, they should not the less hate and despise the informant, who gratified his spite and malice at the expense of a friend on the one hand, and of their peace on the other. "We are doing wrong, dearest Louisa," Cora whispered, as the ponderous park gates clanked heavily behind them, and they bowled along the darkening road, towards where the spires of Canterbury were visible against the flush that lingered in the sky to the westward. "I know that in one sense we are so," replied Lady Louisa, through her clenched teeth and closely-drawn veil; "but I am not the less determined to solve this matter, to probe it to the utmost, and to convict Captain Norcliff or Mr. Berkeley of perfidy. So take courage, and _allons_, my love!" As they proceeded the April twilight deepened. Once or twice Cora spoke of returning; and then it was Berkeley who urged them to proceed. "Aw--haw, doocid absurd--don't hang fire now, ladies, please," said he. "We shall draw the cover directly." Yet he was not without unpleasant misgiving as to how he might figure after "the cover" was drawn, unless he could convey the ladies away instantly, before explanations took place, and this was a part of his intended programme. "After having convincing proof that Captain Norcliff is here, you will, of course, not remain--aw--to upbraid, and all that sort of thing, Lady Louisa?" he asked, rather nervously. "Proceed, sir, but do not question me," was the haughty response, which made his cheek flush with rage in the shade. For now Lady Loftus remembered, and felt fully, that in her anger and confusion she had been completely thrown off her guard; and that she had revealed and acknowledged our mutual engagement, and her passion for me, to Cora Calderwood (who had always suspected it), and, worse than all, to Berkeley, whom she heartily despised, and who, she feared, might make a dangerous use of the information he had won. She had also been lured into committing an act of espionage, far from proper or becoming. But, nevertheless, she resolved to go through it now, and to probe the ugly affair to the end at all hazards--even to facing the fiery anger of her mother, the lofty indignation of the earl, and the vacant and senile astonishment of my Lord Slubber. "How strange it is, Cora," she whispered, as they sat hand in hand, "that one impulse leads me still to love Newton, and yet another impulse lures me to hate him! Where is my constitutional, and where are my family pride and womanly modesty, when I stoop to an act like this, and drag you, poor child, into it, too? Oh, I must love him very much surely--and you, Cora--you----" "I love him, too," was the calm and breathless response, under the closely-drawn veil. "Of course you do--he is your cousin, and your old playmate." Cora assented only by a little sigh. They both, it appeared afterwards, hoped desperately that Berkeley might yet be mistaken in the whole affair, so far as I was concerned, for they felt bitterly the truth of the maxim, that "faith once destroyed is destroyed for ever, unless in a heart which is in itself intrinsically faithless." In the dusk tears rolled unseen down the gentle face of Cora; but Louisa suppressed all appearance of emotion by biting her nether lip, and clenching her little white teeth, like the heroine of a French melodrama. "Here we are at last! Hush! let us approach softly," said Berkeley, as they drew near the little cottage where Miss Auriol resided; and he turned the phaeton into a grassy lane, and between high hedges close by; threw open a private wicket, and assisted Cora to alight; but disdaining the assistance of his proffered arm, Lady Louisa sprang to the ground alone. "This way--follow me, and softly, if you please," said Berkeley, as he drew forth a private latch-key for the back door--a means of entrance possessed by himself alone--and they traversed the little flower-garden which lay around the cottage. My horse stood at the front door, with his bridle fastened to the porch; and to this circumstance he took care to draw their attention. "It is Norcliff's black nag--his cover hack with the white star on the counter. You--aw--recognise it, ladies?" he whispered. "A present to him from my poor papa," said Cora, reproachfully, as her heart beat painfully, and Louisa bit her lips as the agony of conviction stole upon her. "Proceed, sir," said she, haughtily; "what next?" "Voices in the parlour--it is there our birds must be; this way," said Berkeley, who, after a rapid inspection of the interior, between the green trailers, scarlet-runners, and white muslin curtains, had satisfied himself as to who were within, and felt assured that if he lost Lady Louisa, I, at least, should never win her, and that if, on one hand, he made me an enemy, on the other, he got handsomely rid of the unhappy girl of whose caresses he had long since grown weary, and whose importunities and reproaches bored and fretted him now. Between him and me there would be no friendship wasted, no love lost; so he consoled himself by the dangerous maxim, "that all is fair in love or war," as he opened the door softly with his latch-key, and led his now agitated companions into the interior of the cottage. *CHAPTER XXI.* Such men are always the most unscrupulous in revenge. I have seen murder in his eyes a score of times in the last fortnight. If our lines had fallen in the pleasant Italian places, he would have invested twenty scudi long ago in hiring a dagger. As it is, civilization and the rural