CHAPTER XVI

HER LADYSHIP'S PROMISE

Dick was in bed and half-asleep when old Philip tapped at his door and came in.

"Are you asleep, master?" he said softly.

Dick sat up.

"What's the matter, Philip?" he asked.

"Eh, eh, sir, matter enough," the old man muttered. "Her Ladyship sent me to you."

"Is her Ladyship abed, Philip? Is she resting?"

"Nay, there'll be no rest for her to-night, master." The old man sat down by the bedside as he spoke. "She was for not having you told," he went on slowly, "but Bridget overruled her, and I upheld my wife. 'Tis only fitting you should hear. You must know there was a price paid for your life this morning, Master Richard."

"What for? What price?" asked Dick.

"Her Ladyship gave her word to marry that black coward and traitor, Mr. John Dent."

Dick started up, gasping.

"John Dent! Promised to marry John Dent?"

"Ay, on condition he did not hang thee."

Dick fell back, shaking nervously.

"I'd better--" he began, "I'd rather have hanged than that."

"Well, there it is, sir," old Philip observed, "and no way, so far's I can see, out of the hole. They didn't ask you and they didn't ask me, and I'd have killed John Dent myself sooner, and hanged for it after."

"John Dent!" Dick cried again. "For my sake!"

"Her Ladyship saith, if you must know, you must, and I must come and tell you. She fears how you may take it. But she saith also she trusts the promise you made her, that whatever happens you will never leave her."

"Never!" Dick exclaimed. He was thinking of John Dent--the dark, harsh face, the cruel tongue, the heavy hand. Always to live with that! to be at that man's mercy! "Philip!" he cried, "cannot we stop it? Hath my lady no friends?"

"He comes the day after to-morrow at noon," answered Philip, shaking his head. "He brings a parson. My Lady stipulated for a churchman to marry them here at once in the chapel. She cannot stir. She hath given her promise. Her people--her family--are all away in the north, what's left of them. There's no time to run to and fro seeking their help."

"But, Philip, she must have friends nearer. The court is at Arncastor. My Lady was at court. There must be someone there would help."

"'Tis many years since my Lady was at court," said old Philip shrewdly. "They have short memories at courts, sir. No one there will recollect her; new names come up right fast."

"But there would be someone there who'd take up the matter," Dick urged, "if only to catch the traitor John Dent. There would be some gentlemen would ride out and help."

"Your ideas of gentlemen, sir--begging your pardon,--are got out of my Lady's romance-books. The live kind is different. They'd ride out to help, I grant you; but I know your court sparks! They'd want a reward. We'd be as likely out of the frying-pan into the fire as not, master."

Dick thought if his friend Giles were alive, and had power, he would come to aid her Ladyship without wanting anything from her in reward. Then he remembered Giles's master. He had seemed powerful enough. But he did not even know the name of Giles's master. He sighed.

"Can you do nothing, Philip?"

"Me, sir? No! Her Ladyship gave a promise that none of her servants should quit the place till--till it's done."

Dick stared dismally before him.

"But you are not one of her Ladyship's servants, master," said Philip after a pause.

"Well?" said Dick.

"Well," the old man echoed, "if you have any friends at Arncastor, or know of anyone that would help you--leaving her Ladyship out of the question,--for anyone's sake, sir, now is the time to seek them up."

"I haven't a friend in the world," said Dick bitterly; "not one."

"You might have left the house, you see. You might have gone to Arncastor," said Philip.

"I?" Dick cried in horror. "I go to Arncastor? Why, Philip, I should be seized the minute I got there. They would not listen to me. They wouldn't believe a word I said. Ah, you don't know!"

"'Tis only what her Ladyship hath told us that I know, sir," said Philip. "That you were her cousin; that you had fallen amongst folks that ill-treated you; and that you had found her out and come hither. That is all, sir. But I thought that you might have other friends, and you were sure to wish to serve her."

Dick said nothing. He was still thinking of life with John Dent. Would he let Dick stay with them? After the wedding, even if he had made her any promise about it, would he not try to get rid of Dick? Think of being always in the power of John Dent! In trying to avoid it he would run risk of danger, of failure, of disgrace, and also the loss of her faith in him.

Philip took up his candle and left the room with a husky "Good-night, master", which Dick did not heed. He buried his face in the pillows. Stay with her as he had promised, and see her daily sacrificed to the selfishness and cruelty of John Dent? John Dent had caused the death of young Lord Byng, and he had caused her to quarrel with Dick's brother, who had left her, and gone away to die. And should she be married to this man, and must Dick stay with her always, bound by his promise, unable to help, but seeing her misery? Would that be keeping his faith with her? Would that be a return for her love?

It was her Ladyship's custom to drink chocolate at eight every morning, and Dick always came to her room to have some with her. The morning after her birthday she waited a few minutes, and then told Bridget she might take away the tray.

"Shall I send Philip to look for Master Richard?" the woman asked.

"No," answered Lady Dorothy. "He hath gone away."

"Gone away, my Lady?" cried Bridget.

"Yes; he rode out at sunrise on the pony. I saw him. I was up."

"But he should be back by now, my lady."

"He is not coming back, Bridget. He stopped where the lane turns and looked back at the house. He was crying, I think. Poor Dickie! I didn't wave to him. He would have come back if I had. I--I--expected it. He fears his cousin, John Dent."

Lorry had pushed his way into the room. He came up and laid his black head on his mistress's knee. With eyes and tail he told her what faithless beings boys were, and the creatures to be trusted were dogs, and dogs alone, his kind especially, and of his kind himself.

"You may go, Bridget," said her Ladyship.

Bridget flew downstairs, and flung herself, the tray, and her story into her husband's pantry.

"But I'll never believe it of him--never! Him as we've nursed and cockered! Oh, no, man, no! Master Richard's too much of a gentleman born, I say. His pony's mayhap fallen with him, he's that venturesome with it. You mark my words, unless he's killed with his tricks and his jumpings, he'll be back at dinner-time."

But at dinner-time there was no Richard.

"He's dead, then, poor lamb!" cried Bridget.

"You're putting my Lady's wine in his goblet, you silly woman!" Philip interrupted. "Take yourself to your own place, look's ter! Get along, wilt tha! You an' your lambs!"