CHAPTER XIII

LADY DOROTHY'S STORY

Lorry expressed grave doubts of Dick's character for several days, though, as her Ladyship told him, he had no grounds for his suspicions at all. He was merely jealous. That a strange creature should occupy the bear-skin at her feet, and that his mistress should pat the boy's head as often as Lorry's, was an offence to him. In vain her Ladyship introduced Dick to him as one of the family, "Master Richard Byng", as he was called now, since he would not be known as Richard Chester. Lorry would have none of him. But one day he quite suddenly changed his mind. They were walking in the garden, and Lady Dorothy asked the boy to fetch her scarf. Dick darted off up the terrace to the house, and Lorry, with a joyous yelp, dashed after. Here, he thought, was one who would sympathize with his own wild moods. Here was this boy, who could run fast, faster than Lady Dorothy; who could leap and bound, which Lady Dorothy never did. He could scream with laughter, also, in emulation of Lorry's barks, and he did not mind having his face licked, and had no skirts to crush. Henceforth, in the interests of fun and exercise, he cultivated Dick. Together they risked their lives in a thousand monkey-tricks, climbing and fishing and falling. Dick learned to know the fields and woods for miles round in Lorry's company; but they never went quite to the top of the twisted lane and out on the highroad, for there, as Dick told Lorry, they might meet with a Cavalier. He fished and bathed in the streams. He rode on the fat pony, Fairy, by her Ladyship's side. Old Philip taught him to fence, and to shoot with a pistol, and many other manly accomplishments good for health and bad for clothes. On Sundays her Ladyship read the Litany and the prayers for the King, in the dining-room, for no clergyman could be found to come and read the service in her chapel just then. On wet days she read aloud to Dick out of books of romance and travel and poetry, whilst he and Lorry shared the bear-skin or the window-seat. She played the lute also, and she taught Dick to sing with her, whilst Lorry whined outside, not liking their melody. She told him delightful tales, too, about living men and women. Very much the same kind of tales as Giles had told him, Dick thought, though he dare not say so, since she would not love Giles. He grew well-mannered under her care, affectionate and gentle, carried himself like a young gentleman, losing in time the hunted look and shrinking air of the innkeeper's half-starved boy. He was very happy, and in a month or two became very merry. He loved his cousin with all his heart, and hoped for nothing but to live with her all his life, and please her if he could. The old house was a lively place in those early summer months. Dick and Lorry were up at dawn, and filled it with noise and laughter till the night. Sometimes, it is true, Dick was very sad. Something would remind him of Giles, and he would burst into tears and run away to hide himself until the fit was over. One day Lorry crept after him softly, found him out, and lay down by him, his tail slowly thumping the ground, and his great eyes quite as full of grief as Dick's. Dick flung his arms round the dog's neck.

"You seem to know how bad it feels," he sobbed. "How do you know, old fellow?"

Lorry gave a little whimper, as though he would have him believe he had lost scores of dear friends himself. Then he tried to lick Dick all over at once.

"She is good, Lorry, yet she doesn't know. She won't hear me say how I loved Giles--my dear, dear Giles!"

Lorry whined sympathetically.

"Perhaps she never missed anyone," continued Dick, rubbing his eyes and crying bitterly.

"Yes, she did, Dick. Yes, she does," said Lady Dorothy's voice quite near him.

She had caught sight of him crouching under the hedge at the end of the garden, and he saw she was weeping too. She sat down by him, and drew him to her. Dick laid his head on her knee, and Lorry laid his on her dress.

"Tell me," said Dick.

"Well, Dick, I will tell you," she said, "because it has something to do with you. You must know that I once had a brother, Dick, a year younger than myself. He was very dear to me, and when I went to court, our father got him a post there also. And it was there, Dick, that he and I both met again your step-brother, whom we'd known when we were children."

Dick dried his eyes, and looked up.

"I was sixteen, Dick, only sixteen, but I had more than sixteen suitors. Of these I, outwardly at least, favoured most John Dent."

"John Dent!" exclaimed Dick.

"John Dent," she repeated. "In those days John Dent, 'twas expected, would soon be a great lord, and he was handsome and rich--very rich. My father and brother wished me to marry him."

"You couldn't!" cried Dick, sitting up. "He's a bad man, and cruel. Oh, Cousin Dorothy, how dare they think of marrying you to him?"

"Well, Dick, perhaps he was not so bad in those days. He had done many things--gallant, hazardous things--such as you read of in tale-books. He was by way of being a hero, and he loved me, I think. But--"

"But you didn't love him," said Dick, with strong confidence in her judgment.

"No; but I was very young, and very easily flattered. And Reginald, your brother, whom I'd known so long--well, for one thing, he did not ask me to marry him, and he was poor, compared with John Dent, and I loved riches. And he had done nothing, and I thought I loved a hero. He only hung about the court, and was gay and a spendthrift, and my father did not like him, nor my brother. And one day, Dick, someone told me my brother, Lord Byng, had insulted Reginald Chester. And the next day, when I was sitting at work in my room in my father's house in London, the door flew open, and Philip rushed in. 'My Lady, my Lady!' he cried, 'they are murdering your brother!' I ran down into the hall, and there stood Reginald Chester, his sword in his hand, and at his feet, quite dead, my poor young brother. Ah, Dick! I accused Reginald, in my anger and grief, of killing Byng. He was such a child, I told him, he should have considered his years and scorned to take offence at his sayings. He had sworn to me once always to be patient with Byng. And I called him a liar, then, and a coward to fight such a boy, and I--Oh, I know not what I said--everything cruel! Last of all, I drew from my bosom and flung at his feet a boyish gift he'd given me, the only thing he'd ever given me, when we were children. He had said then 'twas a pledge of his love for me. He picked it up in silence, threw down his sword, and said one thing, very bitter and terrible. I bent over my brother. I never heard him go, Dick; and I have never seen him since."

"He's dead now," said Dick, looking gravely before him; "but if he did that, I'll never forgive him! Never!"

She laid her hand over his lips.

"He did not do it, Dickie. I would not have told you about him if so."

"Who, then?"

"John Dent; quite accidentally, not deliberately. Byng and Reginald had made friends, and John Dent, annoyed by it, taunted my brother with fearing Reginald's sword. Byng sprang at him in anger. In self-defence John threw him back. He fell with his head against a stone table, and was killed so, Dickie. There was no other wound on him. It was just so."

"And my brother?" Dick said.

"He went abroad--far away. We none of us saw him any more."

"Did people think he had done it? Was that why he went away?"

"Oh, no, Dick! A gentleman who was with them saw the whole thing, and told us. Your brother had drawn on John Dent, to avenge Byng. John Dent had but just hurried out of the hall when I came down the stairs thither."

"Why did he go away, then?"

Lady Dorothy looked away across the garden to the sky.

"I sent him away, Dick," she said.

Dick gathered that Reginald had gone away because of the things Lady Dorothy had said to him in the hall. After a long silence, he said gently: "And then you were sorry?"

"Then and ever since," she replied.

"And he never came back?"

"Never. He would not, you know."

They were silent again. Lorry, feeling it was all very dismal, gave a little whine.

"And so," Lady Dorothy said at last, "I made a mistake, Dick. When my father died soon after Byng, I left the court, and bought this old house in this desolate country, and came here out of the world."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't marry John Dent, Cousin Dorothy," said Dick, with a great sigh.

"One mistake was enough, Dick."

"And is that why--why you were so good to me, Cousin Dorothy?"

"That is why I loved you immediately, Dick. It was because of your eyes, Dick--real Chester eyes. I knew you before you told me, dear. And you will always stay with me, and be my brother, Dick, will you not?"

A little while later she said: "But I came meaning to cheer you, not make you sadder."

"I'm happier," said Dick.

"But listen. I have a birthday, sir, week after next, and I have a mind to be gay."

Lorry wagged his tail as if he understood something more cheerful was coming up for discussion.

"Now, what shall we do on the day, Dick?"

Dick thought solemnly for a few moments.

"I have it!" he cried. "We'll ride out early, and take with us our breakfast and our dinner."

"Ah!" said her ladyship. "And eat them both at once. And then what, sir?"

"No, no!" cried the boy eagerly. "Ride a long way first, Cousin Dorothy, then breakfast. Then on again to the ruined abbey you told me of in the woods."

"Then dinner?" she suggested.

"Then dinner!" cried Dick. "And you will tell me stories about the monks, and the knights who used to ride about adventuring. Then ride home in the evening. A lovely day, Cousin Dorothy! a lovely day!"

"Agreed," she said. "But what next? There will be some hours left over, Dick. There will be--"

"There will be supper!" cried Dick, as one inspired. "Supper, Cousin Dorothy, with roasted ducks, green peas, and strawberries, Cousin Dorothy! And cream!"

Lorry lifted his head and barked for joy.

"Ducks' bones, Lorry," said Dick, poking him in the ribs. "And skin--nice brown skin. Ah! so rich, and bad for dogs."

"We'll have a perfect banquet, Dickie," said her Ladyship, rising to the occasion, and enjoying his delight. "You shall be toast-master for the night, and call my health, after His Majesty's. And you may wish me a long and happy life; for I dare look forward to one now with my dear little brother Dick. And I'll wear white satin and pearls, sir. And you, what will you wear?"

"My best suit--the gray, Cousin. 'Tis as good as new."

"Well enough for most days, Dick; not festive enough for this. 'Tis to be a new life for me, Dick--less selfish, much brighter. You must wear something new, for luck, and to remind you to wish me happiness, you know."

"Then I'd best wear the rags I came in," cried Dick impulsively. "Remind me to wish you well, Cousin Dorothy? They'd remind me, did I ever forget for a second of the day."

"Why, Dickie," she said, kissing him, "you know how to say a good thing well. But, my dear, they would not suit my satin and pearls."

"The gray, then. I care not two straws, so I'm with you."

"Don't make rash assertions, sir. You'll be a coxcomb some day."

They were going indoors, when she stayed him.

"I have it, as you say, Dick. We'll ride into Arncastor to-morrow and have your worship measured for a suit. The court comes to Arncastor, Philip tells me. The King meets the Queen there to-morrow. There will be the newest modes and tailors in plenty," she went on, not heeding the boy's uneasiness. "You shall see what gay gentlemen wear."

"Oh, no, no!" Dick entreated.

"No, no! Why no?" she asked.

"I dare not! I dare not!" he cried. "Someone would see me, and drag me away."

"Oh, still that old fancy, Dick?" she said, with a touch of displeasure. "Methought you'd outgrown it. And pray, who would touch the cousin of Lady Dorothy Byng?"

"I dare not, madam."

"Then you're a little coward."

Dick's face turned very white. He bent his head unconsciously. "As you please, madam," he said, "I will go then."

He walked away, but, calling his name, she stepped swiftly after him. Unheeding, injured, and proud, he went on.

"Come back! Come back and forgive me, Dick!"

He wavered; remembered her story; remembered her goodness, and turned.

"Forgive me, Dick!" she entreated. "I had no right to say it."

"Never mind," he said, swallowing down his anger. "I am a coward. I will go with you anywhere."

"That you shall not," said her Ladyship. "Indeed, I had forgotten about--about it, Dick. Kiss me. There! we are friends again! Philip shall fetch a tailor over here to measure you. What? Clear your face and forgive me."

"But you think me a coward?" he said.

"No. You will get over it in time, Dick. 'Tis because you are not very strong yet. But there; I will not torture you, dear. Come, let us think of the suit, Dick. Of a rose-coloured silk, I picture it. Rose suits your dark man, let me tell you. Quite simple. Just slashed to let your honour's white holland show through. And I have a Mechlin collar that I'll bestow on you, Dick, with a jewel to loop up your hat."

Dick found the subject alluring after all, though he professed to scorn dress as unmanly. But even whilst he talked of the birthday a dead weight lay at the bottom of his heart. She had called him, and she thought him, a coward.