CHAPTER X
OF HOW MY LADY PLAYED DELILAH—CONTINUED
As I crossed the broad terrace, looking neither to the right nor left, the moon flung my dark shadow upon the gravel path and the soft night wind stole through the silent gardens and fanned my face. But my eyes were blind to the beauties of the silvery landscape, light as day itself, and of the starry heavens above me; for it was my lady! my lady! ever my lady! that was my one recurring thought—the sum total of my reflections.
For the time being I was as one distraught, bewitched, indeed, by the spell her beauty had cast upon me. Wild, fleeting visions of the future rose before my eyes. With the fall of the Stuart the old order had changed; who knew what might occur under the new? A good sword coupled with brains might carry a man far upon the road to success in these unsettled times. He who was poor to-day might yet aspire to climb the ladder which led to fame, providing that he was prepared to grasp the means of rising or had wit enough to rightly use his opportunities. Many a man, indeed, dated the foundation of his fortunes to the Revolution, and received a title in reward for his services. Then why not I? The former requisite for success I knew that I already had. I believed that I possessed the brains, or the experience of years of wandering had been in vain. And afterwards——? I had no settled purpose in my brain; all was a chaos, through which my lady’s face alone shone, beckoning me upward.
That William would be successful in the coming struggle I had not the slightest doubt. I knew the man well, for I had fought under him in Flanders; and though, in the light of future history, he may not be considered as a great soldier in the same sense as were his contemporaries, Turenne and Luxembourg, yet he possessed a genius for snatching victory out of defeat. As for James, with the infatuated imbecility that characterised him throughout every great crisis of his career, he had taken no pains to keep up the discipline of his troops during the past winter, wasting his time with his so-called Court at Dublin whilst his army spread over the surrounding country, committing every species of rapine and plunder. One thing above all was plain to me: Ireland at the present time was the field that offered scope for a man’s ambition. There, when blows would shortly be exchanged notice was to be won and promotion achieved. Little did I guess that the battle of the Boyne had already been lost and won, and that even now the mean-spirited James was in full flight for France, after reproaching his army with the cowardice which his own folly had principally engendered.
’Twas in meditating thus that I came at length to the entrance of the rose garden and halted beneath the arch of yew. Before me the fountain gleamed white in the moonlight that flooded all the open space surrounding and flung fantastic shadows of the closely-cropped trees upon the grass. In the distance came faintly to my ears the murmur of the sea, and the gardens around me were full of the voices of the night.
I crossed quickly to the fountain, and even before I reached it I saw the object of my errand lying upon the marble basin. It was in all respects a dainty fan—a thing of painted silk and ivory, with the perfume of violets yet clinging to it, and with my lady’s monogram in gold upon the handle. I lingered for a few moments, holding it in my hand, recalling again the face of its beautiful owner, and pondering upon our late conversation.
Then with a settled purpose in my mind, I retraced my steps by way of the terraces, and so to the house. I found my lady seated in the same room where I had left her. She looked up quickly when I entered and thanked me prettily in a few low-spoken words. The colour had deepened in her cheeks, and I noticed that the hand which she held out for her fan was slightly trembling. But I would have none of her thanks.
“Do not thank me, madam, for so slight a service,” I said quickly. “I would do far more to pleasure your ladyship, a proof of which I am about to give you.” I drew from my breast the folded paper, which I had placed there before leaving the inn. “This paper,” I began slowly, gazing straight at my lady, who had risen in sudden agitation, “of which I took possession in this very hall, under certain circumstances that I doubt not are still fresh in your ladyship’s memory, and that bore a dangerous resemblance to conspiracy, is folded as you see it was folded when it came into my hands.”
She did not seem to comprehend the full significance of my words or to grasp my meaning. I paused for a moment, and continued more slowly: “Am I wrong in supposing this paper to contain the names of a few gallant but misguided gentlemen who favour the cause of James?”
“You should best know, sir,” she replied in a low voice.