Mistress Wilding | Page 6

suffered him because he was her
brother's friend; on that account she even honoured him with some
measure of her own friendship; but to no greater intimacy did her
manner promise to admit him. And meanwhile, Mr. Wilding persisted
in the face of all rebuffs. Under his smiling mask he hid the smart of
the wounds she dealt him, until it almost seemed to him that from
loving her he had come to hate her.
It had been well for Richard had he left things as they were and waited.
Whether Blake prospered or not, leastways it was clear that Wilding
would not prosper, and that, for the season, was all that need have
mattered to young Richard.
But in his cups that night he had thought in some dim way to
precipitate matters by affronting Mr. Wilding, secure, as I have shown,
in his belief that Wilding would perish sooner than raise a finger
against Ruth's brother. And his drunken astuteness, it seemed, had been
to his mind as a piece of bottle glass to the sight, distorting the image
viewed through it.

With some such bitter reflection rode he home to his sleepless couch.
Some part of those dark hours he spent in bitter reviling of Wilding, of
himself, and even of his sister, whom he blamed for this awful situation
into which he had tumbled; at other times he wept from self-pity and
sheer fright.
Once, indeed, he imagined that he saw light, that he saw a way out of
the peril that hemmed him in. His mind turned for a moment in the
direction that Trenchard had feared it might. He bethought him of his
association with the Monmouth Cause - into which he had been
beguiled by the sordid hope of gain - and of Wilding's important share
in that same business. He was even moved to rise and ride that very
night for Exeter to betray to Albemarle the Cause itself, so that he
might have Wilding laid by the heels. But if Trenchard had been right
in having little faith in Richard's loyalty, he had, it seems, in fearing
treachery made the mistake of giving Richard credit for more courage
than was his endowment. For when, sitting up in bed, fired by his
inspiration, young Westmacott came to consider the questions the
Lord-Lieutenant of Devon would be likely to ask him, he reflected that
the answers he must return would so incriminate himself that he would
be risking his own neck in the betrayal. He flung himself down again
with a curse and a groan, and thought no more of the salvation that
might lie for him that way.
The morning of that last day of May found him pale and limp and all
a-tremble. He rose betimes and dressed, but stirred not from his
chamber till in the garden under his window he heard his sister's voice,
and that of Diana Horton, joined anon by a man's deeper tones, which
he recognized with a start as Blake's. What did the baronet here so early?
Assuredly it must concern the impending duel. Richard knew no
mawkishness on the score of eavesdropping. He stole to his window
and lent an ear, hut the voices were receding, and to his vexation he
caught nothing of what was said. He wondered how soon Vallancey
would come, and for what hour the encounter had been appointed.
Vallancey had remained behind at Scoresby Hall last night to make the
necessary arrangements with Trenchard, who was to act for Mr.
Wilding.

Now it chanced that Trenchard and Wilding had business - business of
Monmouth's - to transact in Taunton that morning; business which
might not be delayed. There were odd rumours afloat in the West;
persistent rumours which had come fast upon the heels of the news of
Argyle's landing in Scotland; rumours which maintained that
Monmouth himself was coming over from Holland. These tales
Wilding and his associates had ignored. The Duke, they knew, was to
spend the summer in retreat in Sweden, with (it was alleged) the Lady
Henrietta Wentworth to bear him company, and in the mean time his
trusted agents were to pave the way for his coming in the following
spring. Of late the lack of direct news from the Duke had been a source
of mystification to his friends in the West, and now, suddenly, the
information went abroad - it was something more than rumour this time
- that a letter of the greatest importance had been intercepted. From
whom that letter proceeded or to whom it was addressed, could not yet
be discovered. But it seemed clear that it was connected with the
Monmouth Cause, and it behoved Mr. Wilding to discover what he
could. With this intent he rode with Trenchard that