Over the Border. Robert Barr
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is on that subject I wish to discourse. He has set in train a series of events in which I hoped to aid him, but it is like to go awry through this most unlooked-for arrest. That is why I was here this morning, and the commission was to have been completed to-morrow. Did he say anything to you about it?”
“You heard all he said to me to-day. I saw him for but a moment, and that in your presence.”
“I had hoped his lordship made a confidant of you, so my mission were the easier of accomplishment.”
“If it has to do with his welfare, I am ready to confer with you. Come with me to the library.” But before they could quit the hall, they were aware that another was taking advantage of the lull in the street to seek entrance to the mansion. Frances paused to learn the result. This time it was an envoy from Strafford himself, and he brought a letter addressed to “Mistress Frances Wentworth.” She opened and read the note with eager anticipation, forgetting, for the moment, all who were standing there.
Sweetheart:
“You have heard before this what hath befallen me; yet trust thou in the goodness of God that my enemies shall do me no hurt. I am troubled that you should be in London at this time, where I can be of no help to you. It would please me to know that you were safe in the home where you have lived until this present time. Think not that you can assist me other than by obeying, for I trust in God and the King, and in the assurance that I am innocent of the charges malice hath brought against me. Therefore be in no way alarmed, but betake yourself straightway to the North, there to wait with your brother, as heretofore, until I send a message for you, which I hope to do right speedily. Travel in comfort and security, and take with you such of my household as will secure both.
“My treasurer, John Vollins, will give you all money you require, and this letter is his assurance to fulfil your wishes in this and every respect. Trust in God; give way to no fear; but bear yourself as my daughter.
“Your loving father,
“Strafford.”
The young woman folded the letter without a word, except to the secretary, to whom she said:
“My father writes in good confidence, seeing no cause for alarm, having assurance of his innocence and faith in God and the King.”
Then she led the way to the library, followed by De Courcy, hat in hand. Vollins arose and left them together, whereupon the Frenchman, with some slight hesitation, possibly remembering a different plea on that spot a few hours before, began his recital.
“This morning his lordship, your honoured father, requested my assistance in a business which he thought I was capable of bringing to a satisfactory conclusion. It concerned a highly placed personage, whom it is perhaps improper for me to name, and perhaps unnecessary for me to particularize further. His lordship’s intention was to present this exalted lady with some gift which she would value for its intrinsic worth no less than its artistic quality, and, as he professed himself no judge of such, preferring to depend upon the well-known taste of my nation in delicate articles of merit, also so far complimenting me as to believe that I could, in suitable manner and phrase, present this token to the gracious accepter of it, he desired my intervention, and I promised so to pleasure him to the best of my poor abilities. On leaving you this morning I made selection of the gift, and furthermore gave hint to the recipient of its intended presentation—a hint, I may say, which was received with palpable delight. Judge, then, my consternation when I heard of the Earl’s arrest, for he had promised to pay me the money to-morrow.”
The young man paused, his listener pondering with her eyes on the floor. She had such a deep distrust of him, and was so well aware of the prejudice, that she struggled against it, praying for an unbiased mind. Yet much that he had said coincided with certain things she knew—her father’s desire that the Queen should cease from meddling in affairs of State to his disadvantage and theirs; his seeming friendship for De Courcy, although he despised him; his intention that she should be civil to him; his disclaimer of all knowledge regarding what a woman valued in a gift when he presented her with a full purse the night before—all these fitted with the Frenchman’s story. The suppliant, scrutinizing her perplexed brow, seemed to fear that his chance of getting the money was vanishing, as he continued on the line most likely to incline her to favour his present demand.
“Of course, I should not have troubled you in this matter did I not think that if the arrangement your father wished to make was important this morning, it is ten times more important to-night. Indeed, his liberty may depend upon it. I am well aware that it is open to me to say to the lady, ‘Lord Strafford is in prison, and is unable to carry out his generous intentions,’ but I fear the deep disappointment will outweigh the force of the reasoning. Your charming sex is not always strictly logical.”
“What was the sum agreed upon?” asked Frances, looking suddenly up.
“A thousand pounds in gold.”
The question had been sprung upon him, and he had answered without thought, but as he watched her resolute face a shade of disappointment passed over his own, as if of inward regret that he had not made the amount larger, should her determination prove his ally.
“I shall see that you get the money, if not to-night, at the time promised.”
She sent for Vollins and placed the case before him. The treasurer stood by the table, with inscrutable face and listened in silence, his somewhat furtive look bent on the Frenchman.
“Has Monsieur De Courcy some scrap of writing in which my lord signifies that so considerable a payment is to be made?”
“My dear fellow, this relates to business that is not put in writing between gentlemen,” said the foreigner hastily.
“I am not a gentleman, but merely the custodian of his lordship’s purse. I dare not pay out gold without his lordship’s warrant over his own signature.”
De Courcy shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands, as though he had washed them of responsibility.
“Mr. Vollins,” pleaded the girl eagerly, “my father’s life and liberty may depend on this disbursement. I will be your warrant. I have money of my own in the North, many times the sum I request you to pay. Should my father object, I will refund to you the thousand pounds; indeed I will remit it to you in any case, and my father need know nothing of this transaction, therefore you cannot be held in scath.” Vollins shook his head.
“I must not do it,” he said. “His lordship is a very strict man of business and will hold me to account. He would forgive you, Madam, but would be merciless with me did I consent to so unheard of a proposal. I dare not count out a thousand pounds to the first man who steps from the street and asks for it, giving me his bare word.”
“Do you dispute my word, sir?” demanded De Courcy, bristling.
“Assuredly not. I am but putting a case, as his lordship would undoubtedly put it to me were I to consent—and what would be my answer?”
“But you have my word as well, Mr. Vollins,” urged the girl.
“Madam, I beseech you to consider my position. I am but a servant. The money is not mine, or you were welcome to it. Yet why all this haste? His lordship can undoubtedly be communicated with tomorrow, and then a word or line from him is sufficient.”
“You have an adage, sir, of striking while the iron is hot; the iron may be cool enough by the time your scruples of legality are satisfied,” warned De Courcy.
“His lordship can be communicated with; you are quite right, Mr. Vollins,” cried Frances, remembering. “He has communicated with me. I ask you to read this letter, and then to pay the thousand pounds required of you.”
Vollins read the letter with exasperating slowness, and said at last:
“There is nothing here authorizing me to pay the gentleman a thousand pounds.”
“True, there is not. But my father says you are to pay me what moneys I require.