XVI Bids Farewell to an English Lady
Duchess Kitty descended from her chair of justice and came to the fireside, where she let her furs slip from her and stood, a figure of white porcelain, warming her feet at the blaze.
"There was some word of a lady," she said.
Johnson, too, had risen, and though the man's cheeks were gaunt with hunger he had no eye for the food on the table. His mind seemed to be in travail with difficult thoughts.
"The lady, madam," he groaned. "She is in her chamber, unsuspecting. Her husband should be here also. He may enter at any moment."
"He has fled," said Alastair. "Fled, as I take it, to the Whig Dukes for his reward. The man is revealed at last, and his wife must disown him or be tainted by his guilt."
The news seemed to affect Johnson painfully. He cast himself into a chair, which creaked under his weight, and covered his eyes with his hands.
"Why in God's name did you suffer it?" he asked fiercely of Alastair. "I had another plan. . . . I would have brought the dog to repentance."
"I will yet bring him to justice," said Alastair grimly. "I have a forewarning of it, and to-morrow or next week or next year he will stand up before my sword."
The words gave no comfort to Johnson. He rolled his melancholy eyes and groaned again. "'Twill break her heart," he lamented. "She will know of his infamy—it cannot be hid from her. . . . Oh, why, why!"