One of the Six Hundred: A Novel
carbuncly orbs of the hooded snake; and having, evidently, no desire to
be left with me alone, he turned rather precipitately and followed the
ladies.
Just as he was leaving the cottage, however, I made a spring after him,
and grasping his shoulder, wheeled him fiercely round until he faced me.
"Mr. Berkeley," said I, in the hoarse, low voice of concentrated
passion, "to-night, at head-quarters, this matter shall be arranged for
a meeting to-morrow. Your life or mine must be the penalty of this
little sensation scene, which your infernal malice has so skilfully
contrived!"
"Aw--aw--don't understand, unless you mean----"
"That you must meet me, sir," said I, as with my leather riding-glove I
struck him full across the face; "meet me on other ground than this."
His eyes flashed now, and he grew very pale, while his fingers twitched
convulsively; but, resuming his smile, he said--
"You are warm, Captain Norcliff--out of temper, and rude, in fact;
but--aw--bah! people don't fight duels nowadays, in our service, at
least. Since Munro of the Horse Guards fought that doocid duel with
Fawcett of the 55th, a hostile meeting has become a hanging affair--a
little matter for a coroner's jury and Calcraft's consideration.
So--aw--keep your temper, and _au revoir_."
Lady Loftus and Cora, who had already sprung unaided into the phaeton,
were calling upon him--upon him, and not upon me!--so he lifted his hat,
with a bow of ironical politeness, and joined them, after which I soon
heard the sound of the wheels die away in the distance.
For a moment I remained as if stunned by the suddenness and peculiarity
of the whole affair; the next moment all my resolutions were taken.
I returned to the parlour, where Miss Auriol was still sobbing, but not
violently--she was too weak for that.
"Mrs. Goldsworthy," said I, "you must have perceived the false position
in which we have been placed to-night, and must be aware that I can
return no more. Keep for Miss Auriol the money I have given her, and be
as you have hitherto been, loving and faithful. So now good-bye."
I felt the impropriety and indelicacy of further protracting so
unpleasant an interview, and, lightly pressing the passive hands of the
girl and of her nurse, before either could speak I had left the cottage,
and was in my saddle, spurring like a madman along the highway towards
the barracks on the Thanet road, intent only on exposing Berkeley and
avenging myself.
My subalterns, Frank Jocelyn and Sir Harry Scarlett, were too young and
inexperienced to be consulted in the matter, so I resolved to start by
the night train for Maidstone, and lay it before my older friends at
head-quarters.
I gave my horse to my groom, Lanty O'Regan, and hurried to my rooms, and
took out my pistol-case, as my only luggage. I felt hot, feverish, mad
almost, and a goblet of well-iced champagne failed to soothe me. I
heard the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the joviality of the
hussar mess ringing through the open windows as I crossed the dark
barrack square on my way to the railway station; but when I was about to
issue from the main-guard gate Pitblado placed in my hand a little
packet, which a mounted servant had just brought for me, and which
seemed to contain a little box.
Trembling, I opened it by the light of the main-guard lantern, and found
it to contain my ring--my famous Rangoon ring--_returned_.
I placed it quietly on the finger from whence I had drawn it when at
Calderwood Glen, and thanking the sentry who held the lantern with some
smiling remark, continued my way to the train, which soon bore me to
Maidstone.
Though I knew it not, Berkeley was in another compartment of the
carriage I occupied.
*CHAPTER XXII.*
Your words have took such pains, as if they laboured
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling
Upon the head of valour:--
He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
His outsides; wear them like his raiment carelessly,
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill,
What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill!
TIMON OF ATHENS.
To write to Lady Louisa a full explanation of the affair was among the
first of my resolutions; but would she believe me?--one against whom
appearances, already, no doubt, coloured, distorted, and elaborated by
Berkeley's cunning insinuations, were so strong?
Without a word of inquiry, or hearing any exculpation, she and Cora had
retired together, and with him, under his requested escort. What fatal
use would he not make of the time thus given him! On, on went the swift
train; but to me even the express seemed a laggard to-night!
Alas! that she I loved so deeply should think so meanly of me, as she
undoubtedly did now.
If I called Berkeley out, and shot him, risking and breaking alike the
civil and military laws of the land, I knew that my uncle would forgive,
and that Cora would weep for me; I knew how Louisa would nervously
shrink from the publicity of such an affair; but I knew also that none
of them would forgive me for an alleged liaison with a creature
apparently so worthless as the cast-off mistress of another--a liaison
by which I lost the love of one so brilliant as the heiress of
Chillingham. Of all such transactions, the old fox-hunting baronet, the
mirror of honour, had a great horror, and within the seas that wash our
shores there was no nobler heart than his. As yet, I could not see the
end of the affair; my heart was swollen, and my head giddy, with rage; I
longed only for friendly advice, and swift vengeance! If the story
reached the ears of Sir Nigel, and he cut off my allowance, my pay as a
captain of cavalry of the line--to wit, fourteen shillings and seven
pence per diem--even with the contingent allowance of seventy or eighty
pounds per annum (for burials and repair of arms, &c.), would never
support me, even on service, in such an expensive corps as ours; thus,
if I was a ruined man, it was all through the wiles of Berkeley!
Pecuniarily I could not remain, and to retire, sell, resign, or exchange
for India at such a crisis, when war was already declared in Europe,
would be only to court disgrace and destruction.
Under any circumstances, to "send in my papers" was social ruin. I
would sell my troop, and follow the regiment as a volunteer lancer,
rather than not go to the seat of war in the East; and all this dilemma,
this vortex of tormenting thought, this agony of anticipated shame,
united with the loss of Louisa Loftus, I owed to the machinations, the
hatred, and the jealousy of the only man I really disliked or despised
in the whole regiment. At last I reached the barracks (where the last
trumpet of tattoo had long since sounded), and sought the quarters of
Jack Studhome, whom, to my confusion, and somewhat to my annoyance, I
found engaged with the colonel on military business. In fact, with the
aid of a couple of decanters of very unexceptionable mess port, and a
box of cigars, they were going over the "Description Book," which, for
the information of readers not in the cavalry, I may mention is one of
the sixteen ledgers kept by the regimental staff, being a register of
the age, size, and description of the horses in each troop; the names
and residence of the persons from whom they were bought, with the date
of their purchase, and so forth, a column being appropriated for
remarks, to show the manner in which each horse is disposed of.
"You here, Norcliff?" exclaimed Colonel Beverley, with surprise, as he
closed the volume.
"Excuse me, colonel, I know that I should be at Canterbury; but I have
ventured to head-quarters on a matter so very particular----"
"Now, Norcliff, what the devil is up?" interrupted Studhome, getting
fresh glasses the while, and pushing the cigar-box towards me.
"Nothing wrong with your troop, eh?" said our lieutenant-colonel,
lowering his eyebrows.
"No, colonel--a personal matter has brought me here," I replied, while
they, perceiving that I was pale and agitated, exchanged glances of
inquiry.
"We shall soon be off, Norcliff," said the colonel; "Travers and others
have disposed of their spare horses; Scriven has sent his stud to
Tattersall's; the drag we shall leave here with the depot. Wilford's
yacht rides at Cowes with the symbolical broom at her masthead. I have
been changing the dismounted men every three days, so that, come what
may, all shall be perfect lancers when the complete mount arrives; and
we have had the horses inspected once in each week by the veterinary
surgeon, to ascertain whether there is among them any contagious
disease, as that, you know, would play the deuce with us on service.
Dragoons without horses (poor Beverley foresaw not the horrors awaiting
the cavalry before Sebastopol) would be like rifles without locks. I
also wish the corps to be supplied with water-decks,[*] but cannot get
them; and now, Norcliff, that you have drawn breath, empty your glass,
and say in what manner we can assist you."
[*] A piece of painted canvas, to cover the saddle, bridle, and girths
of a cavalry horse, and sometimes pegged to the ground. The name of the
corps was usually painted on the outside; and when the trooper was
mounted for service, the deck was strapped over his portmanteau.
"You shall hear, colonel," said I, taking his proffered hand; "I sought
Studhome to obtain his advice, as my oldest and one of my most valued
friends in the regiment, and I shall gladly avail myself of yours, under
the pledge of secrecy, as the name of a lady is concerned in what I
shall have the honour to relate to you."
"Ah," said the colonel, throwing open his frogged surtout, and half
closing his eyes, as he lounged on two chairs, with the air of one who
waits and listens, "this prologue bodes something unpleasant."
Beverley's voice and manner were slightly affected, but withal were very
pleasing. He was, as I have said elsewhere, a very handsome man, of
middle age, with a keen dark grey eye, and close crisp hair, somewhat of
a drawler in speech, but well and powerfully built, broad-shouldered,
lean-flanked, and a good average dragoon officer. Under excitement his
features and bearing changed; he became brief and rapid; his lips became
decided, though his very black moustache concealed them.
I related succinctly the story of Miss Auriol, and the slanders
concerning me circulated in Maidstone--slanders of which Studhome was
quite cognizant; I adverted to my engagement with Lady Louisa, and
detailed the trap I had fallen into, and the use Berkeley had made of
it, adding that I had resolved to parade him--to call him out, and had
told him so, face to face.
"Ah, and what did he say?" asked the colonel, knocking the ashes from
his cigar with a jewelled finger.
"If you lived till the age of Methusaleh, Colonel Beverley, you would
never guess."
"Well?"
"Putting his glass in his eye, he lisped out coolly, 'Bah! people don't
fight duels now. In our service at least, since Munro's fatal affair
with Fawcett,[*] hostile meetings have been hanging matters.'"
[*] The disastrous and reckless duel referred to--the last, I think,
fought in our service--occurred in 1844, between the husbands of two
sisters, in a quarrel about monetary matters--Lieutenant-Colonel David
L. Fawcett, C.B., of the 55th Regiment, and Lieutenant and Adjutant
Alexander T. Monro, of the Royal Horse Guards. The former was killed,
and the latter, after suffering a short imprisonment, was restored to
the service, but not to his regiment. The circumstances must be fresh
in the memory of some of my readers.