The Dew of Their Youth Part 37

What seemed clear was that Lalor had all along benefited by mysterious protections, and the authorities, though apparently anxious for his capture, never really put themselves about in the least. They did not want to catch or imprison Lalor Maitland. He was much more useful to them elsewhere. Whereas the children of a disaffected rebel, considered as claimants to the Maitland estates, were of little account.

But the action of Louis Maitland for the first time opened my eyes to another matter. A corner of the veil which had hid a plot was lifted.

During all the time that Irma had been with her Aunt Kirkpatrick, ever since Louis entered Sympson's Cla.s.sic Academy (kept by Dr. Sympson, grandson of the old Restoration Curate of Kirkmabreek), Lalor had been in Edinburgh, pursuing his plans in secret, perhaps (who knows?) with the learned a.s.sistance and council of Mr. Wringham Pollixfen Poole, that expert with the loaded riding-whip.

We had been far too busy with our own affairs--the marriage, the little house, my work at the _Review_, and more recently the appearance and providing for of Duncan the Second. We had seen Louis on Sat.u.r.days, and on Sundays, too, at times. But, to our shame be it said, we knew very little about his life at school, who were his friends, what his actual thoughts. For this I shall never cease to reproach myself--at least occasionally, when I think about it.

But Lalor had appeared in splendour at Dr. Sympson's, had introduced himself as an uncle from abroad. He was in high favour with the Government. He had the most magnificent coach in the city, and, apparently, plenty of money. He had early warned Louis that we--that is, Irma and I--must hear nothing of his visits, otherwise these pleasant jaunts would be stopped--the afternoon treats to Duddingstone and Lochend, the sails on the Firth with young Walter, the Doctor's son, as his companion. For Lalor was so wise that he never asked him out alone.

So Louis had been silent, bribed by the liberty and the golden guineas, which were as plentiful with Lalor as they were scarce with Irma and myself. The Doctor was charmed with his visitor, the ex-governor of a great province in the Netherlands (which he looked out in the Encyclopaedia and lectured upon)--and as for Walter, his son, at that date he would have bartered his soul for five hours' absence from the paternal academy and a dozen sticks of toffee.

Then with what unwonted and flattering deference the boy's entertainer had treated him. To him he was Sir Louis, the head of the house. He would heir its great properties, the value and extent of which had been hidden from him by Irma and myself. Doubtless we had our own reasons for thus concealing the truth, but Uncle Lalor's position with the Government enabled him to a.s.sure Sir Louis that, through his influence, all its ancient dignities would be restored to the family.

Hence it was that, at the first sight of the slim man with the powdered wig tied in a gay favour behind his back, Louis had run and flung himself into his arms. Perhaps, also, it had something to do with his disappointment in Irma, and it was in this open way that he chose to punish her.

Yet when Lalor Maitland had come into the parlour, and I had spoken with him, the man's frank and smiling recognition of the circ.u.mstances, his high, easy manner, an old-world politeness as of one long familiar with courts, yet a kindly gentleman withal, prepossessed me in his favour even against myself.

"Well," he said, with that rare smile which distinguished him, "here we have the fortune of war. You and I have met before, sir, and there are few that have faced me as you did, being at the time only a boy--and not myself only, but d.i.c.k, the boldest man on the _Golden Hind_."

He tapped a careless tattoo on the table with his fingers.

"Ah, they were good days, after all," he said; "mad days--when it was win ten thousand or walk the plank every time the brig put her nose outside the harbour bar!"

"It turned out the ten thousand, I presume?" I said, without too much unbending.

"Oh," he answered lightly, "as to myself, I was never very deeply entered. I had ever an anchor out to windward. It was rare that I acted without orders, and, having been in a high official position, it was in my power to render certain important services to the Government of this country--for which, I may say, they have not proved themselves less ungrateful than is the way of governments."

"So it would seem," I answered.

"But," he continued, "I called chiefly to renew my acquaintance with my sometime wards--though one of them has sought another and a better guardian" (here he bowed very gracefully to me), "and the other--well, Louis lad, what have you to say to your old uncle?"

The boy came bounding up, and stood close by his chair, smoothing the lace of Lalor's sleeve, his eyes full of happiness and confidence. It was a pretty sight, and for a moment I confess I was baffled. Could it be that after all Louis was right and Irma wrong? Could this man have supposed that the children were being held against their will and interest, or at least fraudulently removed from their legal guardian, when he a.s.saulted the old house of Marnhoul?

Perhaps, as I began to surmise, we had on that occasion really owed our lives to him. For had the _Golden Hinds_ all come on at a time, they would undoubtedly, being such a crew of cut-throats, have rushed us and eaten us up in no time.

Women, I tried to persuade myself, had dislikes even more inexplicable than their likings. Some early, unforgiven, childish prejudice, perhaps.

Women do not easily forgive, except those whom they love, and even these only so long as they continue to love them. For many women the phrase in the Lord's Prayer, "as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us," had better be expunged. It is a dead letter. The exceptions are so rare as to prove the rule--and even they, though they may forgive their enemies, draw the line at forgiving their neighbours.

"And am I not to see my fair enemy, Madame--ah, Duncan MacAlpine? I wish to have the honour of felicitating her infinite happiness, and I have taken the liberty of bringing her an old family jewel for her acceptance."

"My wife, sir," I said, "is not yet well. She is subject to sudden shock, and I fear----"

"Ah, I understand," he said, bowing gravely, and with a touch of melancholy which became him vastly; "I never had the good fortune to please the lady--as you have done."

He smiled again, and waved away a clumsy attempt of mine to reply.

"But that is my misfortune--perhaps, though unconsciously, my fault.

Still, there is the trinket. I leave it in your hands, in trust for those of your wife. My respectful duty and service to her and--to the heir of your house! Come, Louis, will you have a ride in the coach as far as the bridge and back? I have left my Lord Lieutenant there visiting some of his doubtful tenants. I will pick him up when he is ready, and then bring this little friend of mine back."

That night Louis wept and stamped in a black anger.

"I don't want to stop here," he said; "I want to go with Uncle Lalor in the gilded coach."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

BY WATER AND THE WORD

During my holidays at Heathknowes I found myself necessarily in frequent communication with my Lord Advocate. For though I was the actual, he was the ultimate editor of the _Universal Review_. I felt that he had done so much for me, and that we were now on such terms that I might without presumption ask him a private question about Lalor Maitland. Because, knowing the man to have been mixed with some very doubtful business, I wondered that a man of such honour and probity as the Advocate would in any circ.u.mstances act by such means--much less countenance his being put forward in the Government interest at a contested election.

I will give the text of the Advocate's reply in so far as it deals with Lalor: "Have as little as possible to do in a private capacity with 'your Connection by Marriage'" (for so he continued to style him). "In public affairs we must often use sweeps to explore dark and tortuous pa.s.sages. Persons who object to fyle themselves cannot be expected to clean drains. You take my metaphor? Your 'Relative by Marriage' has proved himself a useful artist in cesspools. That is all. He has not swept clean, but he has swept. He has, on several occasions, been useful to the Government when a better man would never have earned salt to his kail. Publicly, therefore, he is an estimable servant of the Government.

Privately I would not touch him with the point of my shoe. For in personal relations such men are always dangerous. See to it that you and yours have as little to do with him as possible."

There in a nutsh.e.l.l was the whole philosophy of politics. "For dirty jobs use dirty tools"--and of such undoubtedly was Lalor Maitland.

But I judged that, having come through so many vicissitudes, and moving now with a certain name and fame, he would, for his own sake, do us no open harm. Rather, as witness little Louis, he would exploit the ancient renown of the Maitlands, their standing in Galloway, and his friendship with the heir of their estates.

It seemed to me that Louis was entirely safe, especially in the good hands of the Lord Lieutenant, and that the great rewards which Lalor Maitland had received from the Government const.i.tuted in some measure the best security against any dangerous plotting.

And in all the electoral campaign that followed, certain it is that Lalor showed only his amiable side, taking all that was said against him with a smiling face, yet as ready with his sword as with his tongue, and so far as courage went (it must be allowed) in no way disgracing the old and well-respected name of the Maitlands of Marnhoul. But I must tell you of the fate which befell the jewel he had left in my hands for Irma.

Whether it had ever belonged to the family of Maitland or not, I should greatly doubt. It was a hoop of rubies set with brilliants, which at will could make a bracelet for the wrist, or a kind of tiara for the hair. It was placed in a lined box of morocco leather, called an "ecrin," and stood out as beautifully against the faded blue of the velvet as a little tangled wisp of sunset cloud lost in an evening sky.

But Irma flashed out when I showed it her.

"How dare you?" she cried, and seizing the box she shut it with a snap like her own white teeth. Then, the window being open, she threw it into the low shrubbery at the orchard end, whence, after she had gone to baby, I had no great trouble in recovering it. For it seemed to me too good to waste, and would certainly be of more use to me than to the first yokel who should pa.s.s that way.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances Lalor would certainly have been defeated.

First of all, though doubtless belonging to an ancient family of the country, he was, with his gilded coach and display of wealth gotten no one could just say how or where, in speech and look an outsider. His opponent, Colonel MacTaggart of the Stroan, called familiarly "The Cornel" was one of the brave, sound, stupid, jovial country gentlemen who rode once a week to market at Dumfries, never missed a Court day at Kirkcudbright, did his duty honourably in a sufficiently narrow round, and was worshipped by his tenantry, with whose families he was on terms of extraordinary fondness and friendship. Altogether, to use the vulgar idiom, "The Cornel" was felt to be a safe man to "bring back Galloway fish-guts to Galloway sea-maws." Or, in other words, he would see to it that patronage, like charity, should begin at home--and stop there.

To set off against this, there was a strong feeling that Galloway had been long enough in opposition. There appeared to be (and indeed there was) no chance of overturning the Government. Why, then, should Galloway dwell for seven more years in the cold and hungry shades of opposition--able to growl, but quite unable to get the bone?

Lalor was brim-full of promises. He had been, if not a smuggler, at least an a.s.sociate of smugglers, and all along Solwayside that was no disadvantage to him--in a country where all either dabbled in the illicit traffic, or, at best, looked the other way as the jingling caravans went by.

Briefly, then, his Excellency Lalor Maitland, late Governor of the Province of the Meuse, now a law-abiding subject of King George, was duly elected and sent to Westminster to take his seat as representing the lieges. The excitement calmed down almost at once. The gold coach was seen no more. The preventive men and supervisors of excise were neither up nor down. Galloway felt vaguely defrauded. I think many of those who voted for Lalor imagined that the excis.e.m.e.n and coastguards would at once be recalled, and that henceforward cargoes from the Isle of Man and Rotterdam would be unloaded in broad daylight, instead of by the pale light of the moon, without a single question being asked on behalf of the revenue officers of King George.

After Lalor's disappearance Louis Maitland was heavy and depressed for several days, staying long in his room and returning the shortest answers when spoken to. Suddenly one morning he declared his intention of going to Dumfries, and so on the following Wednesday my grandfather and he drove thither by the coach road while I followed behind on horseback. It was the purpose of Louis Maitland to have speech with the lawyers. So, knowing the temper in which he had been since his uncle's departure, I let him go up alone, but afterwards had speech with the younger Mr. Smart on my own account.

He smiled when I mentioned Sir Louis and his mission.

"He wishes to go up to London to his cousin--he calls him his uncle, Mr. Lalor, your fine new Government member for the county!"

"I judged as much," said I, "but I hope you have not given him any such permission."

"He can take all the permission he wishes after he is twenty-one," said Mr. Smart; "at present he has a good many years before him at Sympson's Academy. There he may occupy himself in turning the old curate's _Three Patriarchs_ into Latin. As to his holidays, he can spend them with his sister or stay on in Edinburgh with the Doctor. But London is not a place for a young gentleman of such exalted notions of his own importance--'You bury me at a farmhouse with a family of boors!'--was what he said. Now, that smells Mr. Lalor a mile off. But the lad is not much to blame, and I hope you will not let it go any farther."

"Certainly not," said I, "the boy was only quoting!"