The White Gauntlet

There was one; though to say the truth it was not very definite.

He was still uncertain as to the state of Marion’s heart – still in doubt whether the white gauntlet had or had not been a guage d’amour. If the former, then the restoring of it as designed by him might produce a revulsion of feeling in his own favour; if not, no evil could result to him from the act.

On his side the sending back, of the glove was a mere conjectural experiment – made under a vague fancy that it might, to some little extent, further his interests. If in the mind of Marion Wade there existed a partiality for the patriot conspirator, a slight such as that should crush out every vestige of the feeling, and create a reaction in favour of the first fresh lover who might present himself – Richard Scarthe more likely than any other. Little did he anticipate the terrible effect which that returned token, with the message that accompanied it, would have upon her who was to receive it. He knew nothing of the strange conditions which the lovers had arranged at their last parting.

He had too much experience in the heart of woman to have reasoned thus – had he not been purblind with his own passion. In this condition, however, he gave way to a fancy, that, under other circumstances, he would have instantly rejected.

He was also influenced by considerations of a very different kind. The hand of Marion Wade was almost as desirable as her heart – or rather the fortune that should accompany it. The cuirassier captain possessed but his pay – along with proud patronage it is true – but, neither was anything to make him, what he should become as the son-in-law of Sir Marmaduke Wade.

The crisis had arrived to attempt bringing about this desired relationship. It must not be delayed. The power he possessed for its accomplishment might at any moment pass out of his hands. The times were uncertain; and procrastination might imperil his chances of success.

The sending of the glove was the first move in the matrimonial scheme he had concocted. It was to be followed by an offer of his hand. If the offer should be accepted, well; if not, then stronger measures were to be adopted.

Such was the programme that had passed through the mind of Richard Scarthe, and was still before it, as he paced the floor of his apartment, an hour after having dismissed the messenger Walford.

“I wonder,” said he, as he reflected upon the importance of time, “when the fellow Walford will succeed in delivering his false message? He’s but a dull-brained dolt; though knave enough for that, or anything else. I hope he won’t be so stupid as to bring it back to the house; or give it her in the presence of any one. Surely he will have understood my instructions about that? I told him to watch for her till she walked abroad, and alone. But when may that be? Perhaps not to-day; nor to-morrow; nor for many days? I’m burning with impatience to bring the business to a conclusion. What, after all my well-conceived strategy, if – Ho! who comes yonder? By Heaven! ’tis Walford! What brings the brute back? From the grin upon that hideous countenance of his – intended no doubt for a smile – one might fancy he had already accomplished his errand. I must go forth and meet him – before he shows himself in front of the windows. It’s early yet, and I see no one abroad; still some of them may be astir inside? He must not be seen coming here.”

With this reflection, Scarthe seized his beaver; and, flinging it upon his head, sallied forth from the house.

In the thick of the shrubbery he encountered the returning envoy.

“Well, Walford,” said he, “what has brought you back so soon? Has anything miscarried?”

“Not as I knows on, Master capten. Only as bein’ an early bird this mornin’ I ha’ picked up the early wurum.”

“Ah! what mean you by that?”

“I gin it to her.”

“Gin it to her? What, and to whom?”

“The packidge – to the young lady.”

“What, you don’t say that you have seen – ”

“Mistress Marion? Sartintly I do, Master capten. Seed her; gied her the packidge; an’ sayed, what you told me to say.”

“When? Where?”

“For the first – it han’t been gone a half-hour since the words passed out o’ my mouth; and as to the where, that war ’bout a mile from heear – on the wood road as runs from the Park to Stone Dean.”

“She there at this hour? You must be mistaken, my man?”

“No mistake about it, Master capten; I seed her, and spoke to her, as you bid me. I’ve seed her a many a time along that road. It be a favourite ride wi’ her; but she bean’t a horseback this mornin’. She be afut.”

“And alone, you say?”

“Sartinly, Master: else how could I ha’ gied her the packidge? You told me to let no one see me handin’ it to her.”

“This is strange,” muttered Scarthe to himself. “You are sure there was no one near her?”

“I seed ne’er a creetur.”

“What was she doing?”

“Nothin’, Capten; only standing under a tree – the big beech as grows in the middle o’ the road. I went up to her pretty quick, lest she might gi’ me the slip. After I put the packidge in her hand, and sayed what you told me, I coomed directly away.”

“You left her there?”

“Left her, just as I found her – under the big beech.”

“And you met no one, as you returned along the road?”

“Neither met nor passed a sinner.”

“You think she may be there still? You say you came direct?”

“Straight as the road ’ud let me, Capten. I won’t say she be theear still – that are, under the tree; but she ain’t got home as yet: for I coomed as fast as my legs ’ud carry me. I knew you didn’t want me seen about here, and thought I would be safest to coom up afore the sarvints were stirrin’. She beean’t got home yet, nor half o’ the way – even supposin’ she set off right after me.”

“The road to Stone Dean, you say?”

“That as gooes through Stampwell’s wood, an’ over the hills. It strikes off from the King’s highway, a leetle beyont the gates o’ the park.”

“I know – I know. There, my man! Something to get you your morning dram. Away at once; and don’t let yourself be seen in my company. Go where you like now; but be in your own nest at night: I may want you.”

The messenger took the money; and along with it his instant departure.

“What the deuce can she be doing out at this hour?” inquired Scarthe of himself, as he strode nervously across the parterre.

“Ha! the place – the forest road leading to Stone Dean! Can it be possible that he – The fiends! If it be so, I may yet be in time to take him. Ho, there!” he cried to the guard corporal, who had just appeared outside the courtyard gate. “A dozen men to horse. Quick, corporal! Let them not lose a moment. I shall be out before they have time to strap on their saddles.”

And, having delivered these orders, he turned back into his room; and commenced encasing his body in the steel armour, that lay in pieces around the apartment.

In less than ten minutes’ time he was armed cap-à-pied. Staying only to quaff off a cup of wine – which he hurriedly filled from a decanter that stood upon the side table – he passed out of his apartment; and strode clanking along the stone-flagged corridor that communicated with the rear of the dwelling.

Emerging into the courtyard, he mounted his horse – already caparisoned to receive him; and, giving the word of command to the cuirassiers, who had climbed to their saddles, he galloped out of the court – on toward the entrance of the park that opened in the direction of Stone Dean.

It was a short gallop – ending almost as soon as it had begun. It came to a termination, at the head of the hill – down which trended the long avenue skirted with chestnut trees.

There Scarthe suddenly checked his steed – at the same time giving his followers the order to bait.

Naturally enough, the troopers were a little surprised at this sudden interruption of their ride; but they were altogether astonished at a second order – following quick upon the first – which enjoined upon them to wheel round, and return to their stables!

They obeyed, though not without, a show of reluctance. They would much rather have continued their excursion – supposing it to have been intended for some foraging expedition that promised pleasure and plunder.

They were not entirely ignorant of what had caused the countermand. As they were wheeling upon the path, they had caught sight of an object at the other end of the avenue, whose motions betrayed it to be animate. Though but dimly seen through the dawn, and under the shadow of the chestnuts, they could tell what it was – the figure of a woman.

“A sail in sight!” muttered one, who had seen saltwater service. “The captain’s going to hail the craft; and don’t want us Jack-tars on the quarter deck.”