“Bab,” says he, with insolence, “I’ll bet my back hair on it that I’m right. The bravest man that ever trod will take to strange shifts when confronted with the devil. Pity Grantley, do not blame him.”
Of such is the sympathy of boys!
CHAPTER XIII.
I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES.
The morrow was full of anxiety and incident. There was a skirmish with my aunt—a diversion to be sure, but one of peril. There was also my distrust. I was compelled to keep an unceasing eye on Mr. Anthony, on Mrs. Emblem, on the soldiers, on my Lady Grimstone, on Captain Grantley and the document he held, and most of all on my own susceptibilities. There was here plenty of material for mischief. The conduct of the Captain was abominable. Of the six troopers quartered on us, five were despatched at daybreak to scour the surrounding country for the rebel; the remaining one, the Corporal, was retained in the library to protect his commanding officer from the wiles of woman. Never a doubt that Mr. Anthony had spoken true, and that this prudent cowardice had struck my only weapon from my hand. Only one means could save his lordship now—the sacrifice of the poor young fugitive.
I suppose it is the curse of persons of condition that the sword of pride swings above their heads, suspended tenderly on a single hair. The first breath of calumny brings it down. The Government had merely to receive the paper setting forth what was said to be his lordship’s part in the prisoner’s escape, and ignoring all other consequences, not the least would be the hawking of his name in every filthy print of Fleet Street. It would be extremely difficult to bear. Yet bear it I must, and perchance his committal to the Tower, and divers horrid businesses, unless the lad was betrayed to his enemies at once.
However, I did not consider that harsh alternative. I could not apply it an I would. But something must be done, as the Captain took occasion to remind me. On the evening of the sixth day he sent this polite missive to my room.
“Madam:—To-morrow evening the term expires. Unless the rebel is discovered to me by the hour of six in the afternoon, my duty will compel me to acquaint His Majesty’s Government of the whole affair. Madam, I pray you in your own interest to consider deeply of your course, for I am persuaded that you have a knowledge of the rebel’s whereabouts. Let me remind you that the consequences must be inevitably of great prejudice to the Earl, your father, if you permit this matter to proceed.—I have, Madam, the honour to be your duteous, humble servant,
J. Grantley.”
Miss Prue was sitting at my tea-table when I read this; and this keen observer saw me grow red with passion at its contents.
“From a dear friend, I’ll bet a shilling,” he confided to a tea-cup.