Scarcely was she dressed ere she received a tender missive from Lady Vereker which informed her of the result of their evening's frolic. One of her ladyship's cousins, an officer in the Guards, had rescued her from her dilemma. For hours she had sought her companion; then she had gone home, "heaping reproaches upon herself and calling herself every manner of barbarous name." For she felt in her heart that "she should never taste of perfect bliss if separated from her incomparable friend, and that it would be inhuman long to deprive her of her presence." This jargon, which pa.s.sed in the fashionable world of that day, was new to Esther, and she replied in a similar vein, a.s.suring her n.o.ble protectress that, had she listened to the dictates of her heart, she would have flown to her: but circ.u.mstances obliged her to defer the joy for which she sighed so ardently; the circ.u.mstances being a guitar lesson, a new _role_ to study, and a second sitting with Sir Joshua.

In fact, the guitar master, Mr. O'Flannigan, shortly made his appearance upon horseback, the animal being as lean and lanky as himself. He was an Irish gentleman, descended from the kings of his native land. He was wont to prate of vast domains which had fallen two centuries before his birth into the hands of the English. Thanks to the revolt of the American colonies, which Ireland was preparing to imitate, Mr.

O'Flannigan had hopes of regaining his family rights and possessions.

Meanwhile he rambled about London, darned his own stockings, and gave music lessons. Moreover, he occasionally relieved old Hopkins, the prompter at Drury Lane Theatre; but whatever he did, he did with innate n.o.bility and elegance. He could bow with a grace almost equal to that of any Frenchman, having pa.s.sed one week of his youth in Paris, "the capital of elegance and good taste."

It was averred that, like the majority of his countrymen, he must have kissed the famous Blarney stone which communicates to the lips which have pressed it the gift of suave falsehood. But the persons who spoke in that way were his enemies. And who has not an enemy? Mr. O'Flannigan possessed his share of those troublesome individuals, although he had obliged at least three of them to bite the dust.

"What! Three men stretched upon the ground? Three men killed by you single-handed?"

"All of that, miss!"

His brow clouded at the recollection; he declined to enlarge upon the subject; whereupon, since no one wished to wound his feelings by insisting upon details, he would recount the entire dreadful tale even unto the bitter end. One was an Italian, of the princely house of Castellamare; he understood the secret thrust, you know,--the famous secret thrust! Poor man! His death had served no great purpose. To-day the violets bloom upon his grave. Another was a German baron,--a boor who, in pa.s.sing Mr. O'Flannigan, had knocked over his gla.s.s of milk with the tip of his sword and had not known enough to beg his pardon,--a man so tall and stout that he could not have pa.s.sed through yonder door; yet this Colossus had fallen before little O'Flannigan!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"But why renew these cruel memories? It is a frightful thing for a sensible, philosophic man thus to give the _coup de grace_ to a fellow-man! Now, then, Miss Woodville, if you please. One--two--we are in the key of _fa_."

One day Mrs. Marsham found O'Flannigan in the midst of explaining to his pupil the principles of his favorite art. With her left hand upon her hip, her body proudly curved, her cheeks aglow, and her eyes dancing with pleasure, Esther attacked and parried imaginary thrusts, while she poked with a long cane the bony old body of O'Flannigan, who applauded rapturously, though he rubbed his sides.

"Are you mad, monsieur?" she cried. "Giving fencing lessons to my niece!"

"Madame, I am the humblest of your servants!"

O'Flannigan performed the sword salute with the cane he held in his hand, and attempted to deposit a kiss upon the mitten of the Quakeress, who found herself quite disarmed in spite of herself by such a display of courtesy and high breeding.

"Come, come, Monsieur O'Flannigan," she breathed; "suppose you return to your music."

"At your command, madame.--Now, then, mademoiselle; one--two--three. We are in the key of _sol_!"

After the Irishman's departure, Esther pa.s.sed the remainder of the morning in walking up and down the little garden, studying the charming _role_ of Beatrice in "Much Ado about Nothing," which she was to play in a few days. Then came the dinner hour, which reunited Mrs. Marsham, her son Reuben, Esther, and the ancient Maud; since, in accordance with the usage of the sect, the servants consorted with their masters and sat at table with them. Moreover, Maud was no ordinary servant. She possessed the sense of second sight. At certain hours she prophesied and spoke in a strange tongue which no one understood. "The Spirit is upon her!" they were wont to say respectfully upon such occasions. Very deaf and purblind, even with her double vision Maud could not see the spiders'

webs which festooned the ceiling; she could hear "voices," though not that of her mistress when it called her. Any one in the wide world except the Marshams would have quickly recognized the inconvenience of having a vaticinal cook.

At the dinner-table the dangers which Esther had encountered upon the preceding night became the topic of conversation. Mother and son regarded the event from their own standpoints. The former blessed Providence who had guided the girl through her peril safe and sound; the latter cursed the malice of the men who had madly risked their lives in breaking a minister's windows for the glorification of a stupid soldier. How many there were who would have permitted themselves to be killed for Rodney, who would not have raised a finger for Christ! Esther uttered not a word concerning Lord Mowbray; she simply spoke of the excellent gentleman who had escorted her home.

"The brave man!" said Mrs. Marsham. "I long to know and thank him."

"I saw him leaving, or rather flying, like a malefactor," muttered Reuben. "Would he not have remained to receive our thanks, if he had thought he deserved them?"

"Virtue is diffident, my son; her right hand knoweth not what her left hand doeth."

Reuben only replied by an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. The repast over, Maud returned to her kitchen, where she held forth all alone for several long hours. Mrs. Marsham installed herself in her rush-seated chair and adjusted a pair of silver-and-horn spectacles upon the tip of her nose, the rigid steel mounting of which suggested the curved arch of some ancient bridge. She selected one of her favorite books, the "Pilgrim's Progress," or the life of George Fox, which for thirty years had fascinated her timid, childish imagination. Soon the regular breathing, like the purring of a great drowsy cat, informed Esther that her aunt was in Morpheus's arms. Indeed, she had fallen asleep with an ecstatic smile upon her features. Perhaps she dreamed that she walked in a fair garden, attended by angels, and that one came to her, clothed in white raiment, with a lily in his right hand, and said to her, "Good morrow, my good Mrs. Marsham. How are you? My father will be rejoiced to see you." And then, stooping, he would gather stars from the _parterre_ of heaven and arrange them in a bouquet for the elect; for Mrs. Marsham was frequently favored with such dreams, and upon awakening she would recount them to her friends as did the personages in the Old Testament. She was forever searching some explanation of them, since she considered them in the light of celestial visions.

"She sleeps, and is happy," said Reuben in a lowered tone. "Would that I could find repose!"

"Why can you not?" asked Esther negligently.

"Because my heart is troubled by the thought of the iniquities which are committed in Israel. Sometimes it seems to me that I am a scapegoat, and that all the sins of England are upon me."

"Rather a heavy burden, my poor cousin!"

"Oh, do not laugh, Esther; for it is you who are to be pitied; it is for you that I weep."

"For me?"

"Yes, for you, and because of your fatal beauty."

"Fatal! I take the compliment from whence it comes, and am charmed to know that you consider me even pa.s.sing fair. But pray tell me why my beauty is fatal."

"Listen and give heed, Esther. You have read the Holy Scriptures?"

"Yes."

"When G.o.d imprints upon the face and body of woman a charm which renders the wisest fools, there is a hidden reason which should be visible if we would but open our eyes. He has created her for the salvation or the perdition of a variety of men. Eve worked the ruin of Adam; Bethsheba unconsciously corrupted the holy king; Delilah delivered Samson over to his enemies; Salome s.n.a.t.c.hed from Herod's luxury the condemnation of the Precursor. On the contrary, Ruth exhaled joy and consolation about her; Esther softened the anger of a terrible king and saved the people of G.o.d; Jabel drove a nail into the temple of Sisera; Judith delivered Bethulia by cutting off the head of Holofernes. Which will you be, a Delilah or a Judith?"

"Neither, I hope. In the first place, pray do not count upon me to cut off anybody's head. I am a sorry coward, and I have a horror of seeing blood. The other day I saw a dog with a bleeding paw, and I thought I should faint."

"Ah!" exclaimed Reuben bitterly, "better were it to cause the impious to lose every drop of blood in his veins than to inspire a single evil thought in the just. I feel within myself that it is a sin to look upon you; my will totters when for too long a s.p.a.ce my eyes have rested upon those shoulders, that slender form, those brilliant eyes, that bud-like mouth. Sometimes it seems to me that I would suffer eternal d.a.m.nation for you, and that I should find an abominable pleasure in it! How many times have I prayed G.o.d to destroy those adorable features which it has pleased him to create! Willingly would I obliterate and annihilate them!"

"Are you going mad?" cried Esther in alarm. "And yet you say you love me!"

"Yes," replied Reuben: "we alone know how to love, because we alone know how to hate,--we, the sons of the saints whose hearts are full of bitterness and sorrow. They do not love who live in joy and pleasure. My love increases with the tears that it causes me to shed, with the combats that I undergo for you, and, moreover, with the fury that I experience against those who raise their eyes upon your beauty!"

Involuntarily he had raised his voice. The old lady awoke with a start.

"Naughty children!" she murmured querulously. "Quarrelling again?--you who were born to understand one another, and to be happy!"

CHAPTER VII.

CONFIDENCES.

Esther succeeded in persuading good Mrs. Marsham that she ought not to accompany her to her next sitting with Sir Joshua, since the great painter desired to be alone with his model. The age and eminent reputation of the President of the Academy removed far from him all suspicion; consequently there was nothing to be done but to respect his wishes. Therefore Esther went alone to Leicester Fields in a sedan-chair borne by a couple of doughty Irishmen; but she could not repress a movement of impatience upon perceiving Reuben on horseback following her at a short distance with his sombre glance. When she entered the house the young man quickly alighted, attached the bridle of his horse to the railing of the square, and, seating himself upon a bench, fixed his eyes upon Sir Joshua's door.

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"Shadowed!" murmured the girl.

The desire of deceiving one's jailers, the omnipresent dream of evasion which ever haunts the prisoner, filled her mind and inclined her to anger.

"Bah!" she thought, "my deliverance is close at hand."

She swiftly mounted the stairs which led to the studio, and was received by Francis Monday.

"The President has been unexpectedly summoned to an audience with his Majesty, who has come in from Kew to St. James's this morning," he explained. "Be so good as to wait for Sir Joshua, who will return before long. Shall I request Miss Reynolds to come and keep you company?"