CHAPTER XXIV

"FOR THE SECOND TIME VANE HAD RISKED HIS LIFE FOR HER"

Lavinia stopped and turned, not completely round but half way. She was

in a flutter, though outwardly calm. She made no attempt to recognise

Vane, and indeed had Lancelot not announced himself, recognition would

have been difficult, so greatly had he changed.

"You've forgotten me. You're right," he went on agitatedly. "I deserve

to be forgotten, though if you knew of the dastardly plot to crush me I

believe even _you_ would forgive me."

"Even _I_? Am I, then, so hard-hearted?"

"No, I don't believe you are, but everything looked so black against me

I could scarce hope that you would listen to what I have to say. And

there's so great a difference between our fortunes. Mine's blighted.

Yours--I heard you sing to-night. 'Twas ravishing. You're destined to be

famous. Mr. Gay confided to me his hopes about you. Did he say how good

he was to visit me in Newgate--that hell upon earth?"

"Yes, Mr. Gay is the best man living. I owe everything to him."

"I know--I know. He went over your story. You're wonderful. But I always

thought that, though I knew so little about you."

He paused. His glistening eyes scanned her face eagerly. He would have

given worlds to know what was in her mind and heart. But she gave him no

chance. She remained impassive.

"You've been very unfortunate, Mr. Vane. I'm truly sorry for you."

"That's something," said he gratefully. "It consoles me for what I've

gone through. The lies told by Rofflash and Jarvis, who I thought was my

friend, nearly sent me to Tyburn."

"And Mistress Salisbury?"

Lavinia's manner was as cold as ice. It was only by a great effort that

she forced her lips to utter Sally's name. She knew it meant a deadly

thrust for Vane, but a woman has no mercy where another woman is

concerned.

Vane hung his head.

"I don't know what to think about her," said he huskily. "I can hardly

believe she was in the conspiracy to consign me to the gallows."

"Why not? Is she in love with you?"

"How can I tell? I--I--well, I suppose I may say in justice to her that

she did her best to nurse me through the fever that followed my wound."

"Then she does love you," cried Lavinia roused out of her coldness. "I

can't imagine the creature doing a good action without a strong motive."

"I've heard say she's generous and is always ready to put her hand in

her pocket to help anybody in distress."

"Very likely. It's easy to be generous with money that comes so lightly.

Every guinea she spends is tainted," exclaimed Lavinia passionately.

"And so you accepted her help?"

"Not in money. She found me grievously ill at Dr. Mountchance's on

London Bridge. Mountchance is a quack and a charlatan, and she had me

carried to her own lodgings else I must have died. I'd scarce recovered

from my wound when I was arrested at Rofflash's instigation and thrown

into Newgate."

"I suppose she did right and you, too, Mr. Vane," rejoined Lavinia with

a toss of her head. "It is naught to do with me. Let us talk of other

matters. Mr. Gay tells me your father's a clergyman."

"Yes. He would have had me be one too, but I hated everything to do with

the Church. We parted in anger, and I went my own way. Ill luck followed

me. I've made a mess of my life. Everything went wrong. I thought

Fortune was coming my way when I met you, but she turned her back."

"That wasn't my fault, Mr. Vane."

"Great heaven, no! 'Twas entirely my own folly and accursed fate. I've

no one to blame but myself. Wine was an easy way of drowning my

troubles."

"You've no need to remind me of that, Mr. Vane," put in Lavinia hastily.

"I beg your pardon for going over my sins, but open confession's good

for the soul, they say."

"I'd rather not hear about your sins, Mr. Vane. I don't want to listen

when you talk like that. Tell me something of the other side."

"I doubt if there is another side," he rejoined in deep dejection. "I've

had to come back to my father. He's vicar of a parish not far from here.

You see my stay in Newgate and my trial ruined me. The publishers

refused me employment and even my old companions turned their backs upon

me."

"That was no loss."

"Perhaps not, but it convinced me I was done for in London."

"What do you intend to do, then?"

"I can't tell. Nothing, I suppose. I had my tragedy returned, and I've

no heart to write another--except, maybe, my own, and that will have to

be the task of somebody else."

"What do you mean? You're talking in riddles. How can anybody else write

your tragedy?"

"Anybody who knew the facts could do it. You could. No one better. The

end's the difficulty--for you, not for me. But sooner or later you'd

hear what the end was."

Lavinia grasped his wrist tightly, and looking into his face, saw his

lips twitching convulsively.

"I understand," she burst out, "you mean to take your own life. Oh...."

"A tragedy must have a tragic finish or it isn't a tragedy. What have I

left but for the curtain to come down?"

"You're talking nonsense. Think of your father--your mother, if you have

one."

"The best in the world, poor soul."

"Very well, that settles it. You're more fortunate than I am. My

mother's about the worst."

"Anyhow, one must die sooner or later. I was within an ace of death two

months ago. The gallows wouldn't have been worse than a Hampstead pond."

"You're more foolish than ever. I won't listen to you. Swear to be

sensible and think no longer of the miserables. I don't believe you're

much more than a year older than me. Life's all before you."

"Life? A very little bit of it, and what a life! Waiting for death.

Shall I tell you what Dr. Mead, the great physician, told my father who

asked him to see me? 'That young man hasn't long to live. I give him a

year. Killed by the Newgate pestilence.' Now, what do you say, Miss

Fenton?"

"Don't call me Miss Fenton," cried Lavinia, her voice quivering. "It

makes us seem miles apart. You poor fellow! But doctors aren't always

right."

"This one is. I feel it. But I don't care so long as you forgive me and

make me believe I'm no longer a stranger. You do pardon me, don't you,

Lavinia?"

"Oh, yes--yes--let us forget everything but our two selves," she cried

impulsively. Her heart was overflowing with pity. She held out both her

hands. He seized them and raised them to his lips.

"May I meet you to-morrow?" he whispered. "The only thing I would live

for is the joy of seeing you, of hearing your voice. It will be but for

a short time."

"Oh, you mustn't say that. You don't know," she cried tremulously.

A wistful smile stole over his wan face. Silently he held her hands for

a few seconds, pressed them spasmodically and the next moment they were

free. He had crept away.

A wave of emotion swept over Lavinia. Her temples throbbed. A lump rose

in her throat. Her eyes were streaming. She was inexpressibly sad.

Jealousy, resentment, every harsh feeling had disappeared. Though she

had tried to combat Vane's dismal forebodings a conviction was gradually

forcing itself upon her that he was right. He was a doomed man.

It was quite ten minutes before she was composed enough to enter the

cottage. Betty and her mother were tiptoe with excitement. The old woman

was too feeble to walk as far as the concert room, but her daughter had

gone and listened outside, and as it was a hot night and the windows

were open, she heard Lavinia's song perfectly.

"Mercy on me, child, why, an angel couldn't ha' sung more beautiful. La,

if it only be like that in Heaven! I'd ha' given anything for mother to

ha' been there. I see you come out with a gentleman, but I know manners

better than to stare at others as is above me."

"That was Mr. Gay, the poet. It was he who took me to the Duchess of

Queensberry. I told you how kind she was to me, didn't I?"

"Aye, so you did. Well, but sure how the folk did clap their hands and

roar for you to sing again. They loved to hear you purely an' no wonder.

I never heard anything like it. But bless me, Lavinia--beggin' your

pardon, which I ought to say Miss Fenton--you don't seem overjoyed."

"The girl's a-tired out," put in the old lady. "I mind it was just the

same with my poor mistress Molly. She sometimes couldn't move one foot

in front o' t'other when she comed off the stage."

"That's true enough," said Lavinia wearily. "It's the excitement. I

shall be myself again after a night's rest."

"Aye, to be sure. Some supper, as is all ready, and then to bed," cried

Betty.

The prescription was good enough, but so far as the supper was concerned

Lavinia could not, to use Betty's words, "make much of a fist of it."

She was glad enough to escape the clack of tongues and the fire of

questions and crawl to her room.

Slowly the hours crept by, and when the early summer dawn broke Lavinia

was still awake watching the faint streaks of pale gold through the

little latticed window.

The rest in bed had not brought repose. Her mind was troubled. Lancelot

Vane's unexpected appearance and the story of his persecution strove for

mastery with the recollection of her triumph at the concert and had

overpowered it. All the old tenderness, the joy of being near him

revived. It was useless to ask why, useless to call herself weak and

silly to be drawn towards a man who had no force of character, whose

prospects were remote, whose health was undermined. The impression she

once had that he was faithless had not wholly disappeared, and she tried

to banish it. Her imagination found for him all manner of excuses. Yet

she could not decide that she wanted to see him again. One moment it

seemed as though the blank which had come into her life since their

rupture had been filled up now that he had come back, the next that it

would have been better if he had not. She had gradually come to regard

her profession and all it meant to her in the future as the only thing

that mattered, and now in a flash at the sight of him all was

uncertainty and distraction.

But for the second time Vane had risked his life for her! Mr. Gay said

it was on her account that he had fought with Dorrimore, and Mr. Gay

would not tell an untruth. After all, this was everything. How could she

think otherwise than kindly of a man in spite of his faults, who was

ever ready to champion her? And she dropped off to sleep no longer

saying that she would not meet him.