Читать книгу Garrick's Pupil - Filon Augustin - Страница 8

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"He's not bad, that boy," said the grande dame, "Miss Reynolds has often told me how her brother found him in the street."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes. It's a queer story, but I have forgotten it. My memory is so unreliable!"

"The young man bears a remarkable resemblance to Lord Mowbray," ventured Esther thoughtfully.

Lady Vereker started brusquely and faced her companion so far as their relative positions in the carriage would permit.

"Are you acquainted with Lord Mowbray?" she demanded. "You have seen him, spoken with him? He loves you, perhaps?"

The queries succeeded each other with breathless speed, imperiously demanding a response; at the same time her ladyship had caught the girl's hands in her own as if to usurp her, to make her very volition prisoner. Simple curiosity used no such speech, such gestures. And she added, pressing Esther's fingers in her clasp:—

"The young girl who loves Lord Mowbray is lost!"

Ere Esther could make any reply a sudden check in the speed of the horses gave the carriage a violent shock. Miss Woodville uttered a cry of terror.

"What is it?" demanded Lady Vereker, lowering one of the windows.

"Please, your ladyship," replied the footman, touching his plumed hat, "the torches have frightened your ladyship's horses."

The two women looked out. The city presented an extraordinary aspect. Lanterns illuminated the fronts of the shops and the windows of the Tories, while those of the Whigs, closed, dark, and grim, protested against the joy of the rival party. Groups of men ran about, cheering and waving firebrands. Fires of boughs and waste lumber, saturated with pitch and turpentine, blazed at the street corners, while the children danced around them and the wayfarers approached to warm themselves; for a damp night had succeeded the beautiful day. In the dense volumes of smoke arose the pungent odor of resin and burning grease. The signs, hanging like iron flags from the long arms which stretched out almost into the middle of the street, shook in the wind with a rusty rattle and glittered here and there in the ruddy light.

"What is the matter?" cried Lady Vereker. "Oh, I recollect! Rodney! They are celebrating the Admiral's victory."

In fact, amidst the confused turmoil could be distinguished the name of Rodney mingled with cries of "Long live the peacemaker!" Indeed, the majority feared that this success would fail to create confidence in the ministers and thus prolong the war which they longed to put an end to at any cost.

"They say," continued the footman, "that the mob is about to burn Lord George Germaine and Lord North in effigy."

"My cousin!" said Lady Vereker with a laugh. "I should like to assist at that, and I would willingly place the first fagot on the pile!"

"It would not be prudent to go farther in this direction," said one of the footmen; "the crowd is very great, and if they were to recognize your ladyship's livery—"

"I see how it is," remarked Lady Vereker, still laughing, and turning to Esther; "the rascals are afraid. Very well; drive home by the shortest way. I shall be able to keep you a few minutes longer, my dear. Do not be anxious; a man shall be despatched to inform your friends that you are safe."

But Esther was not in the least disturbed. Was she not of that age when one blesses the slightest adventure that chances to disturb the monotonous course of every-day life and suddenly produces the unforeseen?