The Highwayman Part 11

"It's a good day for walking, Mr. Hadley. Which way do you go? For I go the other."

"I hope so," Mr. Hadley agreed, and on that the two gentlemen parted, both something warm.

We should flatter him in supposing Harry Boyce of a chivalrous delicacy.

Whether the lady's fair fame might be the worse for him was a question of which he never thought. It is certain that he did not blame himself for using his place as Geoffrey's paid servant to damage Geoffrey in his affections. And indeed you will agree that he was innocent of any designed attack upon the lady. Yet Mr. Hadley succeeded in making him very uncomfortable.

What most troubled him, I conceive, was the fear of being ridiculous. The position of a poor tutor aspiring to the favours of the heiress destined for his master invites the unkind gibe. And Harry could not be sure that Alison herself was free from the desire to make him a figure of scorn.

Such a suspicion might disconcert the most ardent of lovers. Harry Boyce, whatever his abilities in the profession, was not that yet. But the very fact that he had come to feel an ache of longing for Alison made him for once dread laughter. If he had been manoeuvring for what he could get by her, or if he had been merely taken by her good looks, he might have met jeering with a brazen face. But she had engaged his most private emotions, and to have them made ludicrous would be of all possible punishments most intolerable. The precise truth of what he felt for her then was, I suppose, that he wanted to make her his own--wanted to have all of her in his power; and a gentleman whom the world--and the lady--are laughing at for an aspiring menial cannot comfortably think about his right to possess her.

There was something else. He was not meticulously delicate, but he had a complete practical sanity. He saw very well that even if Alison, by the chance of circ.u.mstance, had some infatuation for him, she might soon repent: he saw that even if the affair went with romantic success--a thing hardly possible--his position and hers might be awkward enough.

Her friends would be long in forgiving either of them, and find ways enough to hurt them both. Mr. Hadley, confound him, spoke the common sense of mankind.

There was one solution--that estimable father. By the time he came back to the house on Tether-down, Harry was resolved to enlist under the ambiguous banner of Colonel Boyce.

CHAPTER VII

GENEROSITY OF A FATHER

With grim irony Harry congratulated himself on his decision. When first he came into the house he heard Alison singing. There was indeed (as he told himself clearly) nothing wonderful about her voice--it resembled the divine only in being still and small. Yet he could not (he called himself still more clearly a fool) keep away from it, and so he slunk into Lady Waverton's drawing-room. Only duty and stated hours were wont to drag him there. Lady Waverton showed her appreciation of his unusual attendance by staring at him across the ma.s.sed trifles of the room with sleepy and insolent amazement. But it was not the gla.s.sy eyes of Lady Waverton which convinced Harry that flight was the true wisdom. Over Alison at the harpsichord, Geoffrey hung tenderly: their shoulders touched, eyes answered eyes, and miss was radiant. She sang at him with a naughty archness that song of Mr. Congreve's:

"Thus to a ripe consenting maid, Poor old repenting Delia said, Would you long preserve your lover?

Would you still his G.o.ddess reign?

Never let him all discover, Never let him much obtain.

Men will admire, adore and die While wis.h.i.+ng at your feet they lie; But admitting their embraces Wakes 'em from the golden dream: Nothing's new besides our faces, Every woman is the same."

She contorted her own face into smug folly by way of ill.u.s.tration. Then she and Geoffrey laughed together. "I vow you're the most deliciously wicked creature that ever was born a maid."

"D'ye regret it, sir? Faith, I could not well be born a wife."

"No, ma'am, that's an honour to be won by care and pains."

"Pains! Lud, yes, I believe that. But, dear sir, I reckon it the punishment for folly. Why,"--she chose to see Harry--"why, here is our knight of the rueful countenance!"

Mr. Waverton laughed. "It is related of the Egyptians--"

"G.o.d help us," Alison murmured.

He went on, giggling. "It is related of the Ancient Egyptians that they ever had a corpse among the guests at their feasts."

"Were their cooks so bad?" said Alison.

"To remind them that all men are mortal. Now you see why we keep Harry."

"I wonder if he looked as happy when he was alive," said Alison, surveying his wooden face.

"_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_," Geoffrey laughed. "No jests about the dead, Alison. But to tell you a secret, he never was alive. He doesn't like it known."

Colonel Boyce, who had listened to the song and the first coruscations of wit with the condescending smile of a connoisseur, now exhibited some impatience. "Egad, Harry, why will you dress like a parson out at elbows?"

"His customary suit of solemn black," said Geoffrey.

"He is in mourning for himself, of course," Alison laughed.

"I have two suits of clothes, ma'am," said Harry meekly. "This is the better."

"Poor Harry!" Geoffrey granted him a look of protective affection. "I vow we are too hard on him, Alison." And then in a lower voice for her private ear. "A dear, worthy fellow, but--well, what would you have?--of no spirit." Alison bit her lip.

"Oh, Mr. Waverton," Harry protested, "indeed, I am proud to be the cause of such wit."

Colonel Boyce stared at his son with an enigmatic frown. Alison's eyes brightened. But Geoffrey suspected no guile. "Not witty thyself, dear lad, but the cause of wit in others, eh? Odds life, Harry, you are invaluable."

"'Tis your kindness for me makes you think so, Mr. Waverton. And, to be sure, I could ask no more than to amuse your lady."

Alison said tartly, "Oh, it takes little to amuse me, sir."

"I am sure, ma'am," Harry agreed meekly.

"It's a happy nature." and he bowed to Geoffrey, humbly congratulating him on a lady of such simple tastes.

Geoffrey, who had now had enough of his good tutor, eliminated him by a compliment or so on Alison's voice and the demand that she should sing again. He found her in an awkward temper. She would not sing this, she would not sing that, she found faults in every song known to Mr.

Waverton. Yet in a fas.h.i.+on she was encouraging. For this new method of keeping him off was governed by a queer adulation of him: no song in the world could be worth his distinguished attention; her little voice must be to his accomplished ear vain and ludicrous; the kind things he was so good as to say were vastly gratifying, to be sure, but they were merely his kind condescension. And, oh Lud, it was time she was gone, or poor, dear Weston would be imagining her slaughtered on the highway.

Geoffrey could not make much of this, but was pleased to take it as flattering feminine homage to his magnificence. By way of reward, he announced an intention of riding home with her carriage. "Faith, you are too good"--her eyes were modestly hidden--"but then you are too good to everybody. Is he not, Mr. Boyce?"

"Oh, ma'am, we all practise on his kindness," Harry said.

"A good night to your mourning," she said sharply, "dear Lady Waverton."

They kissed. "Colonel Boyce, I hold you to your promise."

"With all my heart, ma'am. Your devoted."

She was gone, and Harry, with a look of significance at his father, went off too....

In that shabby upper chamber of his, Harry again offered the Colonel a choice between the bed and the one chair. Colonel Boyce made a gesture and an exclamation of impatience, and remained standing. "Now, what the devil do you want with me?" he complained.

"I want to be very grateful. I want to enlist with you. When shall we start?"

His father frowned, and in a little while made a crooked answer, "Do you know, Harry, you are too mighty subtle. I was so at your years. It's very pretty sport, but--well, it won't b.u.t.ter your parsnips. The women can't tell what to make of it. Having, in general, no humour, pretty creatures."

"I am obliged for the sermon, sir. Shall we leave to-morrow?"

"Egad, you are in a fl.u.s.ter," his father smiled. "Well, to be sure, he is a teasing fellow, the beautiful Geoffrey."