CHAPTER 19
As waS said, perhaps a month passed; then Myles's visits came to
an abrupt termination, and with it ended, in a certain sense, a
chapter of his life.
One Saturday afternoon he climbed the garden wall, and skirting
behind a long row of rosebushes that screened him from the
Countess's terrace, came to a little summer-house where the two
young ladies had appointed to meet him that day.
A pleasant half-hour or so was passed, and then it was time for
Myles to go. He lingered for a while before he took his final
leave, leaning against the door-post, and laughingly telling how
he and some of his brother squires had made a figure of straw
dressed in men's clothes, and had played a trick with it one
night upon a watchman against whom they bore a grudge.
The young ladies were listening with laughing faces, when
suddenly, as Myles looked, he saw the smile vanish from Lady
Alice's eyes and a wide terror take its place. She gave a
half-articulate cry, and rose abruptly from the bench upon which
she was sitting.
Myles turned sharply, and then his very heart seemed to stand
still within him; for there, standing in the broad sunlight
without, and glaring in upon the party with baleful eyes, was the
Earl of Mackworth himself.
How long was the breathless silence that followed, Myles could
never tell. He knew that the Lady Anne had also risen, and that
she and her cousin were standing as still as statues. Presently
the Earl pointed to the house with his staff, and Myles noted
stupidly how it trembled in his hand.
"Ye wenches," said he at last, in a hard, harsh voice--"ye
wenches, what meaneth this? Would ye deceive me so, and hold
parlance thus secretly with this fellow? I will settle with him
anon. Meantime get ye straightway to the house and to your rooms,
and there abide until I give ye leave to come forth again. Go, I
say!"
"Father," said Lady Anne, in a breathless voice --she was as
white as death, and moistened her lips with her tongue before she
spoke--"father, thou wilt not do harm to this young man. Spare
him, I do beseech thee, for truly it was I who bade him come
hither. I know that he would not have come but at our bidding."
The Earl stamped his foot upon the gravel. "Did ye not hear me?"
said he, still pointing towards the house with his trembling
staff. "I bade ye go to your rooms. I will settle with this
fellow, I say, as I deem fitting."
"Father," began Lady Anne again; but the Earl made such a savage
gesture that poor Lady Alice uttered a faint shriek, and Lady
Anne stopped abruptly, trembling. Then she turned and passed out
the farther door of the summerhouse, poor little Lady Alice
following, holding her tight by the skirts, and trembling and
shuddering as though with a fit of the ague.
The Earl stood looking grimly after them from under his shaggy
eyebrows, until they passed away behind the yew-trees, appeared
again upon the terrace behind, entered the open doors of the
women's house, and were gone. Myles heard their footsteps growing
fainter and fainter, but he never raised his eyes. Upon the
ground at his feet were four pebbles, and he noticed how they
almost made a square, and would do so if he pushed one of them
with his toe, and then it seemed strange to him that he should
think of such a little foolish thing at that dreadful time.
He knew that the Earl was looking gloomily at him, and that his
face must be very pale. Suddenly Lord Mackworth spoke. "What hast
thou to say?" said he, harshly.
Then Myles raised his eyes, and the Earl smiled grimly as he
looked his victim over. "I have naught to say," said the lad,
huskily.
"Didst thou not hear what my daughter spake but now?" said the
Earl. "She said that thou came not of thy own free-will; what
sayst thou to that, sirrah--is it true?"
Myles hesitated for a moment or two; his throat was tight and
dry. "Nay," said he at last, "she belieth herself. It was I who
first came into the garden. I fell by chance from the tree
yonder--I was seeking a ball--then I asked those two if I might
not come hither again, and so have done some several times in
all. But as for her--nay; it was not at her bidding that I came,
but through mine own asking."
The Earl gave a little grunt in his throat. "And how often hast
thou been here?" said he, presently.
Myles thought a moment or two. "This maketh the seventh time,"
said he.
Another pause of silence followed, and Myles began to pluck up
some heart that maybe all would yet be well. The Earl's next
speech dashed that hope into a thousand fragments. "Well thou
knowest," said he, "that it is forbid for any to come here. Well
thou knowest that twice have men been punished for this thing
that thou hast done, and yet thou camest in spite of all. Now
dost thou know what thou wilt suffer?"
Myles picked with nervous fingers at a crack in the oaken post
against which he leaned. "Mayhap thou wilt kill me," said he at
last, in a dull, choking voice.
Again the Earl smiled a grim smile. "Nay," said he, "I would not
slay thee, for thou hast gentle blood. But what sayest thou
should I shear thine ears from thine head, or perchance have thee
scourged in the great court?"
The sting of the words sent the blood flying back to Myles's face
again, and he looked quickly up. "Nay," said he, with a boldness
that surprised himself; "thou shalt do no such unlordly thing
upon me as that. I be thy peer, sir, in blood; and though thou
mayst kill me, thou hast no right to shame me."
Lord Mackworth bowed with a mocking courtesy. "Marry!" said he.
"Methought it was one of mine own saucy popinjay squires that I
caught sneaking here and talking to those two foolish young
lasses, and lo! it is a young Lord--or mayhap thou art a young
Prince--and commandeth me that I shall not do this and I shall
not do that. I crave your Lordship's honorable pardon, if I have
said aught that may have galled you."
The fear Myles had felt was now beginning to dissolve in rising
wrath. "Nay," said he, stoutly, "I be no Lord and I be no Prince,
but I be as good as thou. For am I not the son of thy onetime
very true comrade and thy kinsman--to wit, the Lord Falworth,
whom, as thou knowest, is poor and broken, and blind, and
helpless, and outlawed, and banned? Yet," cried he, grinding his
teeth, as the thought of it all rushed in upon him, "I would
rather be in his place than in yours; for though he be ruined,
you--"
He had just sense enough to stop there.
The Earl, gripping his staff behind his back, and with his head a
little bent, was looking keenly at the lad from under his shaggy
gray brows. "Well," said he, as Myles stopped, "thou hast gone
too far now to draw back. Say thy say to the end. Why wouldst
thou rather be in thy father's stead than in mine?"
Myles did not answer.
"Thou shalt finish thy speech, or else show thyself a coward.
Though thy father is ruined, thou didst say I am--what?"
Myles keyed himself up to the effort, and then blurted out, "Thou
art attainted with shame."
A long breathless silence followed.
"Myles Falworth," said the Earl at last (and even in the whirling
of his wits Myles wondered that he had the name so pat)--"Myles
Falworth, of all the bold, mad, hare-brained fools, thou art the
most foolish. How dost thou dare say such words to me? Dost thou
not know that thou makest thy coming punishment ten times more
bitter by such a speech?"
"Aye!" cried Myles, desperately; "but what else could I do? An I
did not say the words, thou callest me coward, and coward I am
not."
"By 'r Lady!" said the Earl, "I do believe thee. Thou art a bold,
impudent varlet as ever lived--to beard me so, forsooth! Hark'ee;
thou sayst I think naught of mine old comrade. I will show thee
that thou dost belie me. I will suffer what thou hast said to me
for his sake, and for his sake will forgive thee thy coming
hither--which I would not do in another case to any other man.
Now get thee gone straightway, and come hither no more. Yonder is
the postern-gate; mayhap thou knowest the way. But stay! How
camest thou hither?"
Myles told him of the spikes he had driven in the wall, and the
Earl listened, stroking his beard. When the lad had ended, he
fixed a sharp look upon him. "But thou drove not those spikes
alone," said he; "who helped thee do it?"
"That I may not tell," said Myles, firmly.
"So be it," said the Earl. "I will not ask thee to tell his name.
Now get thee gone! And as for those spikes, thou mayst e'en knock
them out of the wall, sin thou drave them in. Play no more pranks
an thou wouldst keep thy skin whole. And now go, I say!"
Myles needed no further bidding, but turned and left the Earl
without another word. As he went out the postern-gate he looked
over his shoulder, and saw the tall figure, in its long
fur-trimmed gown, still standing in the middle of the path,
looking after him from under the shaggy eyebrows.
As he ran across the quadrangle, his heart still fluttering in
his breast, he muttered to himself, "The old grizzle-beard; an I
had not faced him a bold front, mayhap he would have put such
shame upon me as he said. I wonder why he stood so staring after
me as I left the garden."
Then for the time the matter slipped from his mind, saving only
that part that smacked of adventure.
