Denounced

"It is time," he thought, "that things should draw to a conclusion. For," he said, as though addressing Kate herself, "I have had enough of you, my lady. You have long ceased to be a wife to me-never were one, indeed, but for a month, and then but a very indifferent spouse, a cold-hearted, cold-blooded jade; now it is time you should cease to be so much in even name. So, so. You shall be stripped of your borrowed plumage; we will see then how you like the position of affairs. I myself am heartily sick of them."

He had no premonition of what Kate might be about to say to him when she should enter the room in which he now sat; yet he had a very strong suspicion that her remarks would consist of accusations against him of having betrayed the Sholtos and Elphinston.

"Well, well," he said, – "let her accuse. I have the last card. It is a strong one. It should win the trick."

Yet at the same time, strong as any card might be which he held in his hand, he would have given a good deal to have known where at the present moment those three men might be harbouring whom he had endeavoured so strongly to give to the hangman's hands. And once, as a sudden thought came to his mind-a thought that almost made the perspiration burst out upon him-a thought that they might all be in this very house and appear suddenly to take vengeance on him for his treachery! – he nearly rose from his seat as though to fly while there was yet time. But, coward though he was, both physically and morally, he had strength to master his impulse, and, in spite of his fears that at any moment Elphinston, whom he had wronged the worst of all, might enter the room, to remain seated where he was.

Still his eyes sought ever the hands of the clock as moment after moment went by and his wife failed to come, until at last he was wrought to so high a pitch of nervousness that he started at any sound inside and outside of the house. A man bawling the news in the street or blowing the horn, which at that time the newsboys carried to proclaim their approach, set his nerves and fibres tingling; the laughter of some of the domestics in the kitchens below him had an equally jarring effect, and when aloud knock came at the street door he quivered as though the avenging Elphinston was indeed there. Then, at last, the door opened suddenly, and his wife stood before him.

He saw in one swift glance that she was very pale-she, whose complexion had once been as the rose-blush-and this he could understand. It was not strange she should be so. What he could not understand was the habit in which she appeared, the manner in which she was attired. Ever since she had become his wife he had caused her to be arrayed in the richest, most costly dresses he could afford; had desired, nay, had commanded, that in all outward things she should carry out the character of Lady Fordingbridge; that her gowns, her laces, her wigs, should all be suitable to his position.

Yet now she appeared shorn of all those adornments which his common, pitiful mind regarded as part and parcel of his dignity. The dress she wore was a simple black one, made of a material which the humblest lady in the land might have had on, without lace or trimmings or any adornment whatsoever. Also on her head there was no towering wig, nor powder, nor false curls; instead, her own sweet golden hair was neatly brushed back into a great knot behind. Nor on her hands, nor on her neck, was any jewellery, save only the one ring which, from the day he had put it on her finger, she had ever regarded as a badge of slavery.

"Madam," he said, rising and advancing towards her, while as he did so she retreated back towards the door, "Madam, I have come here to desire an explanation from you as to why I find you gone from my house and living under the shelter of another person's roof. And also, I have to ask," he continued, letting his eye fall upon the plainness of her attire, "why you present yourself before me in such a garb as you now wear? I must crave an immediate answer, madam."

"I am here to give it," she replied. "And since I do not doubt that it is the last time you and I will ever exchange words again in the world, that answer shall be full and complete. But, first, do you answer me this, Lord Fordingbridge. Was it by your craft that Mr. Elphinston and Douglas and Archibald Sholto were denounced?"

She spoke very calmly; in her voice there was no tremor; also he could see that her hands, in one of which she held a small packet, did not quiver.

"Madam," he replied, endeavouring to also assume a similar calmness, but not succeeding particularly well, while at the same time one of those strong waves of passion rose in his breast which he had hitherto always mastered when engaged in discussion with her, "madam, by what right do you ask me such a question as this? What does it concern you if I choose to denounce Jacobite plotters to the Government? Nothing! And again I ask why you have left my roof for that of the worldling with whom you have taken refuge, and why you appear before me in a garb more befitting a mercer's apprentice than my wife?"

"Your equivocation condemns you. Simeon Larpent, it was you who played the spy, you who were the denouncer of those three men. I knew that there could be no doubt on that score."

"And again I say, what if I did? What then? What does it concern you? What have you to do with it?"

"I have this to do," she replied; "but that which is to be done shall be done before witnesses," and stepping to the bell rope, she pulled it strongly, so that the peal rang through the house.

"Witnesses!" he exclaimed. "Witnesses! None are required. Yet, be careful; I warn you ere it is too late. If you summon witnesses to this interview, they may chance to hear that which, to prevent their hearing, you would rather have died. Be careful what you do, madam."

As he finished, the footman opened the door, and, without hesitating one moment, she said to the man:

"Ask the two gentlemen to step this way."

"Two gentlemen!" he repeated; "two gentlemen! So, this is a trap! Who are the two gentlemen, pray?" and as he spoke he drew his sword. "If, as I suspect, they are the two bullies-your lover, whom you meet at masquerades, whom you give assignations to, and his friend-they shall at least find that I can defend myself."

In truth, bold as he seemed, he was now in great fear. He expected nothing else but that, when the door again opened, Sholto and Elphinston would appear before him, and he began to quake and to think his last hour was come. His treachery was, he feared, soon to be repaid.

She made no answer to his vile taunt about her lover, nor did she take any heed of the drawn sword that shook in his hand; had she been a statue she could not have stood more still as she regarded him with contempt and scorn.

Then the door did open, and Sir Charles Ames and Douglas Sholto entered the room. The first he did not know; had, indeed, never seen him before; but at the sight of the other he grasped his weapon more firmly, expecting that ere another moment had passed the hands of the young Highlander would be at his throat, and that he would have to defend his life against him. To his intense surprise Sholto treated him with as much indifference as if he too had been a statue; after one glance-which, if disdain could have the power to slay, would have withered him as he stood-he took no further heed of him. As for Sir Charles Ames, he, observing the drawn weapon in the other's hand, smiled contemptuously, shrugged his shoulders, and then took his place behind Lady Fordingbridge and by the side of Douglas.

"Sir Charles and you, Douglas," she said, "forgive me for asking you to be present at this interview, yet I do so because I desire that in after days there shall be one or two men, at least, to testify to that which I now do." Then, turning towards her husband, who still stood where he had risen on her entrance, she said:

"Simeon Larpent, since first I met you-to my eternal unhappiness-your life has been one long lie, one base deceit. The first proposals ever made to me by you were degrading to an honest woman, were infamy to listen to. Next, you obtained me for your wife by more lies, by more duplicity, by more deceit. Also, from the time I have been your wife, you, yourself a follower of the unhappy house of Stuart by birth and bringing up, have endeavoured in every way to encompass the death of three followers of the same cause, because one of those men was to have been my husband had not you foully wronged him to me; because the other two were his and my friends."

She paused a moment as though to gather fresh energy for her denunciation of him; and he, craven as he was, stood there before her, white to the very lips, and with his eyes wandering from one to the other of the two listeners. Then she continued:

"For all this, Simeon Larpent, but especially for that which you have last done, for this your last piece of cruel, wicked treachery, for this your last bitter, tigerish endeavour to destroy three men who had otherwise been safe, I renounce and deny you for ever."

All started as she uttered these words, but without heeding them she continued:

"For ever. I disavow you, I forswear you as my husband. I have long ceased to be aught to you but a wife in name; henceforth I will not be so much as that. I have quitted your house. I quit now and part with for so long as I shall live your name, the share in the rank that you smirch and befoul. From to-day I will never willingly set eyes on you again, never speak one word to you, though you lay dying at my feet, never answer to the name of Fordingbridge. I return to what I was; I become once more Katherine Fane."

He, standing before her, moistened his lips as though about to speak, but again she went on, taking now from off her finger the one ring that alone she wore. Placing it on the table, she continued:

"Thus I discard you, thus I sever to all eternity the bond that binds me to you; a bond that no priest, no Church, shall ever persuade or force me into again recognising." And with these words she placed also on the table the package she had brought into the room with her.

"There," she said, "is every trinket you have given me, except the jewellery of your family, which you have possession of. At your own house is every dress and robe, every garment I own that has been bought with your money. So the severance is made. Again I say that I renounce you and deny you. From to-day, Lord Fordingbridge, your existence ceases for me."

It seemed that she had spoken her last word. With an inclination of her head towards those two witnesses whom she had summoned to hear her denunciation, she moved towards the door, while they, after casting one glance at him, the Denounced, standing there-Sir Charles Ames, conveying in his looks all the ineffable disdain which a polished gentleman of the world might be supposed to feel towards another who had fallen so low, and Douglas regarding him as a man regards some savage, ignoble beast-prepared to follow her.

Then, at last, he found his voice-a harsh and raucous one, as though emotion, or hate, or rage were stifling its natural tones-and exclaimed ere they could quit the room:

"Stay. The last word is not yet said. You, Katherine Fane, as you elect, wisely, to call yourself henceforth, and you, her witnesses, listen to what I have now to say. This parley, this conference, call it what you will, may justly be completed."

She paused and looked at him-disdainfully, and careless as to what he might have to say in this her final interview with him-and they, doing as she did, paused also.

Then he continued, still speaking hoarsely but clearly enough:

"You have said, madam, that you renounce and deny me for ever; that you are resolved never more to share my rank or title, nor again to bear my name. Are you so certain that 'tis yours to so refuse or so renounce at your good will and pleasure?"

"What, sir, do you mean by such questions?" asked Sir Charles Ames, speaking now for the first time. But Lord Fordingbridge, heeding him not, continued to address her, and now, as he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed his finger at her.

"You have been very scornful, very cold and disdainful since first we came together, madam, treating me ever to your most bitter dislike, while all the time every thought and idea of yours was given to another man-all the time, I say, while you continued to bear the title of the Viscountess Fordingbridge. Once more, I ask, are you so sure that this title was yours to fling away, the husband yours to renounce and deny in your own good pleasure?"

And his eyes glared at her now as he spoke, and she knew that the devil which dwelt in him had got possession.

"Be more explicit," she said, "or cease to speak at all. If I could think, if I could awake as from an evil dream and learn that I had never been your wife, never plighted troth with you, I would upon my knees thank God for such a mercy."

"Those thanks may be more due than you dream of. How if I were to tell you-?"

"What?" fell from the lips of all, while Douglas took a step nearer to him, and Sir Charles felt sure that in another moment they would be told of some earlier marriage. "What?"

For answer he went on, one finger raised and pointing at her as though to emphasize his remarks:

"You have taunted me often with the Jesuit education I received at St. Omer-at Lisbon. Well, it was true: such an education I did receive at both places. Only, madam-my Lady Fordingbridge! – Miss Fane! – have you never heard that one so educated may, at such places, receive other things? may become acolytes, priests? What if I became such? what would you then be-a priest-?"

"It is a lie!" she exclaimed, "and you know it."

"Are you so sure? Can you prove-or, rather, disprove it? Answer me that-answer, if you are sure that you share my name and rank-have power to renounce them."

As he finished, Douglas sprang at him and, in spite of his drawn sword, would have choked the life out of him on the spot had not Sir Charles interceded, while at the same moment Kitty's voice was heard bidding him desist.

"Even so," she said, "true or untrue, it is best. The infamy, if infamy there is, must be borne. At least, I am free. Free! Am justified after these hints!"

"Ay," Lord Fordingbridge said, "you may be free. To do what, however? To fling yourself into your lover's arms to-night-only, where will you find him? Newgate, the Tower, the New Gaol in Southwark are full of such as he; 'tis there, Mistress Fane, that doubtless you must seek him."

"And 'tis there," said Douglas Sholto, an inspiration occurring suddenly to his mind, "that you shall join him. The King has issued orders for every Jesuit priest to be arrested who shall be found, or denounced, in these dominions, and, Jacobite though I am, with my life at stake, I will drag you there with my own hands ere you shall be suffered to escape. You have proclaimed yourself, shown us the way; by your own lips shall you be judged."

CHAPTER XIV

FLIGHT

That Douglas had spoken out of the fury of his heart and, consequently, without thought, was, however, very apparent at once; for when Kate had quitted the room, leaving Fordingbridge free from the grasp of the former-since Douglas, a second after he had seized him, flung him trembling and shivering on the couch-Sir Charles Ames spoke and said, as he drew Sholto aside to where the other would not hear them:

"It would indeed serve the scoundrel right if he were treated as you suggest. Only, unfortunately, it is not possible. First of all, I believe this insinuation is a lie."

"I am sure of it. If he had ever been admitted a priest my brother must have known of it, and, in any circumstances, the truth can soon be proved by him. A letter to the head of the Jesuit College at Lisbon from another Jesuit such as Archibald is will prove his statement to be false."

"Yet even," said Sir Charles, "were he a Jesuit priest and so subject to arrest and imprisonment in this country, you would stand in far too much danger to bring it about. Also, he can tell too much, as he would undoubtedly do if he was himself given up. Let us consider what is best."

"I," replied Douglas, speaking in an even lower whisper, so that the villain could not possibly hear him, "go to-night, as you know. Archie probably to-morrow, or the next night, and Bertie is already gone. Surely it might somehow be done."

"Impossible," replied Sir Charles, "impossible. Remember, we are in Lady Belrose's house; we must bring no scandal upon her. No, that way will not do."

"What then?" asked Douglas. "What then? For I am determined that his power of doing any harm shall be forever quenched now. We have him in our hands, and we will hold him fast."

As he spoke he glanced where the traitor sat glowering at them from the sofa. He seemed now to be thoroughly cowed, thoroughly alarmed also for his own safety, and his piercing black eyes scintillated and twinkled more like the eyes of a hunted, timorous creature than those of a man. Indeed, as Douglas looked at him, it seemed as though Fordingbridge were really mad with terror. Yet, abject as he now was, the other shuddered again, as he had more than once shuddered before when speaking of or looking at the man.

"We must get him away from this house," said Sir Charles. "I will have no disturbance here. Come, let us take him to the park. There we can talk at freedom, and, I think, so persuade his lordship of our intentions that henceforth he will be harmless. Do you agree?"

Douglas nodded, whereon Sir Charles, advancing into the room again, addressed Lord Fordingbridge.

"My lord," he said, in his coldest, most freezing manner, "it were best you sheathed that sword," and he pointed to it as it lay beside him on the sofa. "Such weapons are unfitted to a lady's house, and you may be at ease-no injury is intended you."

Fordingbridge gazed at him-still with the terror-stricken look in his eyes, the glance almost of madness or, at best, of imbecility; yet he did as the baronet bade him, and replaced his weapon. But he uttered no word.

"We shall be obliged," continued Sir Charles, "if you will accompany us to St. James's Park. We have something to say to you."

"If," said Fordingbridge, finding his voice at last, "you intend to make me fight a duel with that man, I will not do it. He-

"There is," interrupted Douglas, "no thought of such a thing. My sword is not made to cross one borne by you."

"Very well," replied the other meekly, "I will come." But, a moment later, he burst out into one of his more natural methods of speaking, and cried, "You have the whip hand of me for the moment, but we shall see. We shall see."

"We shall," replied Sir Charles, calmly; "but if your lordship is now ready we may as well depart. We have already encroached somewhat on Lady Belrose's hospitality."

The grave manservant seemed somewhat astonished, when he opened the street door at a summons from the bell, to observe the three gentlemen go down the steps together and enter the hackney coach which was still waiting for the viscount. Also he was surprised-since he and all the other servants in the house had gathered a very accurate knowledge of what had transpired in the small saloon-to witness the courteous manner in which Sir Charles motioned to his lordship to enter the vehicle before him, and then entered it himself, followed by Douglas. Next, he heard the direction given to the man to drive to St. James's Park, and retired, wondering what it all meant. After the words he had-by chance, of course-overheard in the room, he, too, naturally supposed that a duel was about to be fought; but being a discreet man, he only mentioned this surmise to his fellow-servants, and took care not to alarm his mistress.

Arrived in the park and the coach discharged by Sir Charles, who even took so much of the ordering of these proceedings upon himself as to pay the man the hire demanded, the former, still with exquisite politeness, requested Fordingbridge to avail himself of a vacant bench close by, since he and his friend, Mr. Sholto, had a few words to say to each other before they laid their deliberations before him. And Fordingbridge, still with the terror-stricken look upon his face and the vacillating glance in his eyes, obeyed without a word.

And now the others paced up and down the path at a short distance from him, but always keeping him well in their view, and the deliberations mentioned by Sir Charles took some time in arriving at. But they came to an end at last, and the baronet, drawing near to the bench where Fordingbridge was seated, proceeded to unfold them to him.

"My lord," he said, speaking with great clearness and cold distinctness, "you may perhaps think that I should have no part in whatever has transpired between you and others. Yet I think I have. It fell to my lot-to my extreme good fortune-to be of assistance to the Viscountess Fordingbridge, for so I shall continue to call her in spite of your observations and disclosures this morning, which I do not believe. It fell to my lot, I repeat, to be of some service to her ladyship on a certain night a week or two ago. That service was rendered necessary by your betrayal of a cause which you had once espoused, of a man whom you had previously injured cruelly, and of another man, Mr. Douglas, who had never injured you. Therefore, I was of assistance to her ladyship, who was more or less under my charge and protection that evening, and I am glad to have been able to do so."

"I wish," muttered Fordingbridge hoarsely, glaring at him, "that you had been at the devil before you did so."

"Doubtless. But I was not. That service, however, and your visit to-day to the house of a lady who is shortly about to honour me by becoming my wife, justifies me, I think, in taking some part in these proceedings, though only as spokesman. In that character I now propose to tell you what Mr. Sholto intends to do."

"What?" gasped Fordingbridge, moistening his lips.

"First," said Sir Charles, unsparingly, "when he has left the country, which he will do almost immediately, to denounce you to His Majesty's Government. You are pledged by every oath that can be regarded as sacred in any cause to the House of Stuart-"

"No!" exclaimed Fordingbridge. "No. I am now an adherent of the House of Hanover."

"I am afraid even that will be of little avail to you. For, if you are, you are a double traitor. It was you who planned the attack on the 'Fubbs,' which brought the King from Herrenhausen at the outbreak of the Scotch Invasion; you who circulated the papers offering a large reward for his assassination; you who, but a month or so ago, brought over with you Father Sholto, the most notorious plotter among the Jesuits."

"I denounced him," whined Fordingbridge. "I denounced him. That alone will save me from the King's anger."

"That," replied Sir Charles, "is possible. I am willing to allow it. But you are by your own confession a Jesuit priest, therefore you will be subject to all the punishments and penalties now in force against such persons. Also, you will have let loose against you the whole of the anger of the Jesuits-should His Majesty be inclined to spare you-when Mr. Sholto has informed them of your treachery. You, as one yourself, can best imagine what form that anger is likely to take."

Fordingbridge gasped as he stared at the baronet; and now, indeed, it seemed as if the light of idiocy alone shone in his eyes.

"But," went on Sir Charles, "you have also something else to reckon with, namely, the punishment which your brother religionists may see fit to accord to you for having, as a priest-as you suggest yourself-gone through the form of matrimony. I have not the honour to be of the Romanist religion myself, therefore I do not know what shape that punishment may take, but, from what Mr. Sholto tells me, it is for your own sake to be hoped that you have hinted a lie and are, indeed, no priest."

"Let me go," said Fordingbridge, "let me go." Then he muttered, "Curses on you all. If I could kill you both as you stand there, blast you both to death before me, I would do it."

"Without doubt," replied Sir Charles; "but if you will pardon my saying it, your schemes for injuring others seem to fall most extraordinarily harmless. And I trust your aspirations for our ill will not take effect until, at least, we have had time to put some leading Jesuits in France-if not here-in possession of your true character."