Lady Good-for-Nothing Part 19

"I thank you." She fingered the stem of the gla.s.s, not lifting her eyes. "But you have belittled me, too. I read it in books, and here on the threshold, as I step outside of books, you meet me with it. We women are always, it seems, poor ships, beating the seas, fleeing capture; and our tackle, our bravery--" She broke off, and sat musing, while her fingers played with the base of the gla.s.s.

"I take back my metaphors, Miss Josselin. I admit myself no buccaneer, but a simple a.s.s who for once p.r.i.c.ked ears on an honest impulse."

"That is better. But hush! Mr. Manley, yonder, is preparing to sing."

Mr. Manley, a young protege of the Collector's, had a streak of genius as an architect and several lesser gifts, among them a propensity for borrowing and a flexible tenor voice. He trolled an old song, slightly adapted--

"Here's a health unto Sir Oliver, With a fal-la-la, lala-la-la; Confusion to his enemies, With a fa-la-la, lala-la-la; And he that will not drink his health, I wish him neither wit nor wealth, Nor yet a rope to hang himself-- With a fa-la-la, lala-la-la."

The effort was applauded. Above the applause the bull voice of Mr. Silk shouted,--

"But Miss Josselin has not drunk it yet! Langton monopolises her.

Miss Josselin! What has Miss Josselin to say?"

The cry was taken up. "Miss Josselin! Miss Josselin!"

Batty Langton arose, gla.s.s in hand. "Is it a toast, gentlemen?"

He glanced at Sir Oliver, who sat sombre, not lifting his eyes.

"Our host permits me. . . . Then I give you 'Miss Josselin!'"

Acclamations drowned his voice here, and the men sprang up, waving their gla.s.ses. Sir Oliver stood with the rest.

"Miss Josselin! Miss Josselin!" they shouted, and drank what their unsteady hands left unspilt. Langton waited, his full gla.s.s half upraised.

"Miss Josselin," he repeated very deliberately on the tail of the uproar, "who honours this occasion as Sir Oliver's ward."

For about five seconds an awkward silence held the company.

Their fuddled memories retained sc.r.a.ps of gossip concerning Ruth, her history and destiny--gossip scandalous in the main. One or two glanced at the Collector, who had resumed his seat--and his scowl.

"The more reason she should drink his health." Again Mr. Silk was fugleman.

His voice braved it off on the silence. Ruth was raising her gla.s.s.

Her eyes sought Miss Quiney's; but Miss Quiney's, lifted heavenward, had encountered the ceiling upon which Mr. Manley had recently depicted the hymeneals of Venus and Vulcan, not omitting Mars; and the treatment--a riot of the nude--had for the moment put the redoubtable little lady out of action.

Ruth leaned forward in her seat, lifting her gla.s.s high. It brimmed, but she spilled no drop.

"To Sir Oliver!"

Chapter VI.

CAPTAIN HARRY AND MR. HANMER.

"Guests, has he?--Out of my road, you rascal! Guests? I'll warrant there's none so welcome--"

A good cheery voice--a voice the curtain could not m.u.f.fle--rang it down the corridor as on the note of a cornet.

The wine was at Ruth's lip, scarcely wetting it. She lowered the gla.s.s steadily and turned half-about in her chair at the moment when, as before a whirlwind, the curtain flew wide and a stranger burst in on the run with Mana.s.seh at his heels.

"Oliver!" The stranger drew himself up in the doorway--a well-knit figure of a man, clear of eye, bronzed of hue, clad in blue sea-cloth faced with scarlet, and wearing a short sword at the hip. "Where's my Oliver?" he shouted. "You'll forgive my voice, gentlemen. I'm Harry Vyell, at your service, fresh from shipboard, and not hoa.r.s.e with anthems like old what-d'ye-call-him." Running his gaze along the table, he sighted the Collector and broke into a view-halloo.

"Oliver! Brother Noll!" Captain Harry made a second run of it, caught his foot on the prostrate toper whom Langton had dragged out of Miss Quiney's way, and fell on his brother's neck. Recovering himself with a "d.a.m.n," he clapped his left hand on Sir Oliver's shoulder, seized Sir Oliver's right in his grip and started pump-handling--"as though"

murmured Langton, "the room were sinking with ten feet of liquor in the hold."

"Harry--is it Harry?" Sir Oliver stammered, and made a weak effort to rise.

"Lord! You're drunk!" Captain Harry crowed the cheerful discovery.

"Well, and I'll join you--but in moderation, mind! Newly married man-- if some one will be good enough to pa.s.s the decanter? . . . My dear fellow! . . . Cast anchor half an hour ago--got myself rowed ash.o.r.e hot-foot to shake my Noll by the hand. Lord, brother, you can't think how good it feels to be married! Sally won't be coming ash.o.r.e to-night; the hour's too late, she says; so I'm allowed an hour's liberty." Here the uxorious fellow paused on a laugh, indicating that he found irony in the word. "But Sally--capital name, Sally, for a sailor's wife; she's Sarah to all her family, Sal to me--Sally is cunning. Sally gives me leave ash.o.r.e, but on condition I take Hanmer to look after me. He's my first lieutenant--first-rate officer, too--but no ladies' man. Gad!" chuckled Captain Harry, "I believe he'd run a mile from a petticoat. But where is he? Hi, Hanmer! step aft-along here and be introduced!"

A tall grave man, who had entered unnoticed, walked past the line of guests and up to his captain. He too wore a suit of blue with scarlet facings, and carried a short sword or hanger at his belt. He stood stiffly, awaiting command. The candle-light showed, beneath his right cheek bone, the cicatrix of a recent wound.

But Captain Harry, slewing round to him, was for the moment bereft of speech. His gaze had happened, for the first time, on little Miss Quiney.

"Eh?" he stammered, recovering himself. "Your pardon, ma'am. I wasn't aware that a lady--" Here his eyes, travelling to the end of the table, were arrested by the vision of Ruth Josselin. "Wh-e-ew!" he whistled, under his breath.

"Sir Oliver--" Batty Langton stood up.

"Hey?" The name gave Captain Harry yet another shock. He spun about again upon his brother. "'Sir Oliver'? _Whats_ he saying?"

"You've not heard?" said the Collector, gripping his words slowly, one by one. "No, of course you've not. Harry, our uncle is dead."

There was a pause. "Poor old boy!" he muttered. "Used to be kind to us, Noll, after his lights. If it hadn't been for his womenkind."

"They're coming across to visit me, d.a.m.n 'em!"

"What? Aunt Carrie and Di'? . . . Good Lord!"

"They're on the seas at this moment--may be here within the week."

"Good Lord!" Captain Harry repeated, and his eyes wandered again to Ruth Josselin. "Awkward, hey? . . . But I say, Noll--you really _are_ Sir Oliver! Dear lad, I give you joy, and with all my heart. . . .

Gad, here's a piece of news for Sally!"

Again he came to a doubtful halt, and again with his eyes on Ruth Josselin. He was not a quick-witted man, outside of his calling, nor a man apt to think evil; but he had been married a month, and this had been long enough to teach him that women and men judge by different standards.

"Sir Oliver," repeated Langton, "Miss Josselin craves your leave to retire."

"Yes, dear"--Miss Quiney launched an approving nod towards her--"I was about to suggest it, with Sir Oliver's leave. The hour is late, and by the time the sedan-chair returns for me--"

"There is no reason, Tatty, why we should not return together," said Ruth quietly. "The night is fine; and, with Mana.s.seh for escort, I can walk beside your chair."

"Pardon me, ladies," put in Mr. Silk. "Once in the upper town, you may be safe enough; but down here by the quay the sh--sailors--I know 'em-- it's my buishness. 'Low me--join the eshcort."

But here, perceived by few in the room, a somewhat remarkable thing happened. Mr. Hanmer, who had stood hitherto like a statue, put out a hand and laid it on Mr. Silk's shoulder; and there must have been some power in that grip, for Mr. Silk dropped into his seat without another word.

Captain Harry saw it, and broke into a laugh.

"Why, to be sure! Hanmer's the very man! The rest of ye too drunk-- meaning no offence; and, for me,--well, for me, you see there's Sally to be reckoned with." He laughed aloud at this simple jocularity.