CHAPTER VIII.
A WOMAN SCORNED.
SIR WILLIAM PHIPPS and Increase Mather, together with the other Puritan patriots who made up the small band of charter-hunters at the Court of William and Mary, worked consistently, if not harmoniously, toward their end.
They found their monarch disposed to permit them to do about as they pleased, when at length he comprehended their situation and the needs of Massachusetts. His attorney-general was ordered to draw up a charter, on the broad lines suggested by the American council. No sooner did they get it into their hands, however, than they fell into heated discussions over trifling divergencies which they found between it and the older charter, which they had come to regard with almost idolatrous awe and reverence.
The new charter granted them many liberties and privileges which the old one had not contained. Time even proved the new one to be the better document for the colony, but despite these facts, and the further fact that it restored to their dominion the provinces of Maine, New Hampshire, and Nova Scotia, to the St. Lawrence River, they found much at which to grumble.
However, they finally accepted what they had, with what show of gratitude they were able to simulate. Their disaffection doubtless had its purpose, and it might have been fruitful of the further concession which they gained, namely, the privilege of nominating their own next Governor.
Here, for once, they were quite unanimous. They requested that Sir William Phipps be appointed. They knew that without the priceless services which he had rendered the cause, during all his sojourn in England, they might never have received a tithe of what was now secured to their country with all possible stability.
The nomination of Captain Phipps was made complete by the King without delay. He was constituted Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, and likewise Captain-General of the Colonies of Connecticut and Rhode Island.
Weighted down with these new responsibilities, he went seeking for Adam Rust, at the gay salon of the Duchess of Kindlen, noted in its day for its scope and the liberties acceded to the guests who assembled in its spacious halls.
Having heard from a mutual friend that Sir William would be looking him up at the Duchess’, Adam repaired to the scene rather more early than was his custom. He had seen but little of the captain for a matter of several years. He was chiding himself upon the negligence by which this had been made possible, when he arrived at the house.
The funeral of the faithful Pike, and the plight of the lorn old Halberd, since losing his comrade, had depressed Adam’s spirits immeasurably. Halberd had been following him about, dumbly, ever since the dire event in the family. He said but little; he made no complaints of his loneliness. He simply hung on Adam’s footsteps, like a homeless old dog, whose one remaining instinct is faithfulness and undying affection, waiting for his master when he came from the brightly-lighted houses, pleased and excited whenever he could have the Sachem to talk with on the topic of Pike’s many virtues and traits of character that confirmed him in his fellow’s affections.
Adam had taken the lorn beef-eater into his own apartments, where he could keep a more careful watch over his health and his negative happiness. No friend among all his noble acquaintances had such a hold on Adam’s heart as had this bragging old remnant of his retinue, and to none did he drop the mask of frivolity as he did before this companion, whom nothing could discourage nor alter.
Thus he had been glad to think of going no more where the Duchess, Lady Margaret and the others assembled, with their tinsel show, their thinly-plated talk, their gambling and amours, but had contemplated going away with Halberd, into Nature’s simpler walks and profounder beauties.
The garish glitter struck inharmoniously upon him, as he walked impatiently through the brilliant rooms, in a search for Sir William Phipps, who had not yet arrived. He presently found himself confronted by Suffle, who, in turn, had been looking about for Lady Margaret.
“How do you do?” said Suffle, at once. “My dear Rust, I am charmed to see you again. I have been wanting to see you, ’pon my word. Would you mind just giving me a few minutes’ talk?”
“One of my greatest delights is derived from listening to a brilliant conversationalist,” said Rust. “Where shall we go?”
“There is no one as yet in the dice-box,” said the other. “If you don’t mind, we might stroll in there by ourselves.”
Saying, “I am yours to command,” Adam followed leisurely behind his friend to the now empty room employed nightly for gambling.
“It’s rather a delicate business—what I have to say,” confessed Suffle, by way of a preface, “but you are a frank, decent fellow, that a man can talk to, well—openly—don’t you know.”
“Thanks,” said Adam. “If it is anything about Lady Margaret, let us be sensible, by all means.”
“That’s devilish clever of you, old chap,” responded Suffle, evidently much relieved already. “Of course you know how matters stand.”
“I would never be sure of where anything stood, that had a woman for an element in its make-up.”
“Yes, I know. That’s clever, too—deucedly clever. Perhaps I had better put it plainly.”
“Do, I beg of you.”
“Now—you are a frank, sensible man. Now—do you really like—you know—love, you know—Lady Margaret,—just speaking as man to man, sensibly, as you so cleverly said?”
“Would you force me to become either ungallant or a traitor?”
“Not at all, I——”
“Well, let us say that I am ungallant, since we are to be frank,” said Rust. “I will even admit that I am ungallant.”
“Good,” said Suffle. “That’s what I thought—I mean, you know——”
“Yes, I know what you mean. Proceed.”
“Well, I feel very much relieved. You are a decent sort, Rust—a deucedly decent sort. Now I am very fond of Lady Margaret. I have learned to be, you know. My uncle requires me to marry her, don’t you see, or be cut off with a brass farthing. So I have learned to be deucedly fond of her, you know.”
“Very reasonable and like a man,” said Adam.
“Yes, I fancy so myself. I am coming to the point.”
“Then there is a point?”
“Oh dear me, yes. You see, as you don’t care for Lady Margaret, that way, and I do——”
“Why then, to be sure, take her and let me give you my blessing,” Rust interrupted. “I will do this with all my heart.”
“Thanks, old chap, but that is not quite the point,” Suffle assured him. “The fact of the matter is, she rather likes you, Rust, you know. I’m bound to admit she does, though God knows why, and we are two sensible men, you know, and that is what I wanted to talk about.”
“You do me too great an honor,” Adam assured him. “But what would you have me do?”
“Why—that’s just the point. Of course I wouldn’t like to ask you to clear out of the country——”
“Don’t let modesty stand in your way, my dear Suffle. This favor would be nothing—a mere trifle.”
“Oh no, now, I wouldn’t permit it,” said Suffle, magnanimously. “But you are such a deucedly clever fellow, don’t you know, that I thought you might be able to devise something, something to—well, you know.”
“Yes, oh yes,” said Adam, pulling calmly at his long golden mustache. He meditated for a moment and idly picked up a dice-box, placed in readiness for the evening’s play upon the table. “Do you ever fripper away your time with these? If you do, perhaps we might arrange a little harmless device without much trouble.”
At one of the doors, the figure of Lady Margaret appeared and disappeared as Suffle expressed his eagerness to know what the plan in Adam’s head might be. Although she had glided swiftly from room to room in search of Rust, Lady Margaret had frowned when she saw him in company with her fiancé, and petulantly beating her fan in her fragrant little palm, she had gone back around toward a secondary entrance, in which a heavy curtain hung. She was vaguely wondering what the two could find to talk about together, and to what extent they were gambling, that they went at the dice thus early.
She now met Sir William Phipps, Governor-elect of New England, who had finally arrived and who was scanning the gathering company for a sight of Adam Rust.
“Oh, how well you are looking, Sir William,” she cried to Phipps, delightedly.
“I am looking for a friend,” said the captain, with his customary bluntness. “But thank you, Lady Margaret, thank you, heartily.”
“If you are looking for a friend, why, look over my head?” she said to him, prettily. “Oh, you dear Colonial Governors are such delightfully honest people. We all have to like you, really.”
“I have found some honest men in England,” said the Captain, with conviction. “The Puritans are growing numerous among your people.”
Lady Margaret laughed, spontaneously enough. “And what about our women?” she said. “Do you find them at all—well, charming?”
“Some are as bold as a pirate,” he said, without intending anything personal. He could see many ropes and clusters of jewels, gleaming from afar. “And some of them must have plundered many a good ship of her treasure,” he added. “If I don’t put about and do some cruising, I shall never speak that boy to-night.”
He bowed, somewhat jerkily, and sauntered off. Lady Margaret continued on her way around toward that curtained door, on the other side of which she had seen Rust and Suffle with the dice.
William Phipps spent no further time in conversing with the women, beyond a word as he passed, so that finally he came to the gambling apartment, where he found his protégé. Knitting his brows for a second, in an ill-concealed annoyance, to see Adam Rust engaged in such a pursuit as this, he stood there in the doorway, hoping to catch Adam’s eye and so to admonish him silently for indulging even a moment’s whim at this vice.
“One thousand more,” said Adam, somewhat hotly.
Sir William pricked up his ears in amazement.
“Lost again!” Rust exclaimed. “The devil is in the dice!” His back was toward the curtained door. There was a mirror, however, directly across the room. Watching the glass he presently beheld the reflection of a movement, where the tapestry swayed behind him. “Three thousand now, or nothing!” he added, desperately.
The dice rattled out of the box in the silence that followed.
“It’s luck,” said Suffle, scooping up the dice to throw again.
“It’s sorcery!” exclaimed the rover, in evident heat. “Come, sir, I have two thousand left. I’ll stake it all on a single throw!”
Phipps would have interfered, had it been in any place but a private house, where the scandal would spread so swiftly. He twitched in nervousness, as he gripped the cane with which he would have liked to knock the dice-box endways.
The throw was completed.
“I’m done!” said Rust. “I’ve nothing more to stake!”
“Oh, come,” said Suffle, tauntingly, “play your sword, your—surely you must have something you prize. What, no resources? Must we cease the play so soon?”
“My sword? No!” said Adam, with temper. “But stay; since you speak so slightingly of my sword, I have one more stake to offer.”
“By all means name it and play.”
“My stake, sir, is the Lady Margaret,” Adam growled at him, angrily. “Betrothed to you, she loves me more. Come, sir, stake me a thousand against my chances to win her and take her away from you, heart and soul. A thousand, sir, and if you can win it—your field shall be open, you shall hear nor fear no more from me!”
“By my faith,” said Suffle, rising, as Adam had done, “you hold this lady lightly, that you prattle of her name like this. Better I should run you through, for an arrant knave.”
“Bah!” said Rust, “you think more of your winnings than you do of your lady. You hesitate and scold over a paltry thousand. Stake it, man, or by my troth I shall tell her what valuation you put upon her worth.”
Lady Margaret’s face appeared for a second at the curtain. It was white with rage.
“You insult this lady with your monstrous proposition,” cried Suffle.
“And you insult her worse, with your parsimony!” came the swift retort.
“It is calumny for you to say she loves you!” Suffle growled.
“Yet stake me, sir, or you shall see me get her and laugh at your stinginess,” Rust flung at him banteringly. “Come, sir, one more moment and I withdraw the offer.”
“Done!” said Suffle, “for by ’sdeath, my fortune shall prove you a liar! Throw the dice.”
Adam threw and counted. “My luck has changed at last,” he said, in triumph.
“We shall see,” retorted Suffle, and flinging the dice he sat down and roared with laughter.
“Lost!” said Adam, tragically. “So be it. To the devil with you, sir; and I wish you joy of your winnings.”
He strode from the table, met Sir William Phipps at the door, winked at him merrily and so drew him out in the hall.
“What’s this? What’s this?” said the Governor, excitedly. “I come here to see you, with news on my tongue, and find you—like this!”
“Tush, William,” said Adam, laughing boyishly, and as cool as a fish. “I was betting in farthings. I must have lost a hundred. Did you think the luck was all with Suffle?”
“But, sir, this—this lady?”
“There is more than one way to cure a woman of a heart’s distemper,” said the young man, cheerfully. “Lady Margaret was just there, behind the curtain. But this is wasting time. What is your news?”
Phipps looked at him in wonder, for a moment, then shaking his head, sadly, he presently drew his hand down across his face, to his double chin, as if to wipe out a smile, which had come out of his eyes and traveled all over his countenance.
“Adam,” he said, “they have made me Governor of the colony, and I want you to go home with me to Boston.”
Adam said nothing, for a moment, then he answered: “Let’s get out of this. I want some fresher air to think it over in.”
They were soon walking out at the gate, arm in arm. The air was not only fresh, it was bitter cold. When they turned to go down the street, Adam having first looked about, without seeing what he sought, old Halberd issued from a niche, where he had been dancing to keep himself warm, and followed along behind his master.
“Well, now that you have thought it over,” said Phipps, at last, “what do you say?”
Adam had thought it over, from a thousand standpoints. The magnet at Boston had drawn him and drawn him so long that he felt his whole soul was already across the Atlantic. Why fight his longing any further? Why not at least go home, look the proposition in the face and perhaps be disillusionized?
“I’m your man,” he said, as if to catch himself before he should alter his mind. “When are you sailing?”