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We begin at a time when George the Second was permitting Ormskirk and the Pelhams to govern England, and the Jacobites had not yet ceased to hope for another Stuart Restoration, and Mr. In fine, we begin toward the end of March, in the year 1750, when Lady Allonby and her brother, Mr. Henry Heleigh, of Trevor's Folly, were the guests of Lord Rokesle, at Stornoway Crag, on Usk.
The Vicar stared at her. "The man I have been," said Simon Orts, "yes! the man I have been!" Something clicked in his throat with sharp distinctness. "Upon my word," said Lord Rokesle, yawning, "this getting married appears to be an uncommonly tedious business." Then Simon Orts laid aside his prayer-book and said: "I cannot do it, my Lord. The woman's right."
Heleigh will not grace the ceremony with his presence?" They understood each other, these two. Lord Rokesle grinned, and in a few words told the ecclesiastic of the trick which had insured the absence of the other guests; and Simon Orts also grinned, but respectfully, the grin, of the true lackey wearing his master's emotions like his master's clothes, at second-hand.
"I entreat your pardon?" said Lord Rokesle, and without study of Lady Allonby's condition. This was men's business now, and over it Rokesle's brow began to pucker. Simon Orts bore Lady Allonby to the settie. He passed behind it to arrange a cushion under her head, with an awkward, grudging tenderness; and then rose to face Lord Rokesle across the disordered pink fripperies.
Now Lord Rokesle regarded Lady Allonby, the while that she displayed conspicuous interest in the play of the flames. But by and by, "O vulgarity!" said Lady Allonby. "Pray endeavor to look a little more cheerful. Positively, you are glaring at me like one of those disagreeable beggars one so often sees staring at bakery windows." He smiled.
For in every approved romance the third adventurer gets the victory; so that I am, I take it, predestinate to win where Vanringham and Rokesle failed." She did not chop logic with him, but instead retorted in a more primitive fashion by beginning to scream at the top of her voice. I doubt if any man of honor was ever placed under a more great embarrass.
The Vicar of Heriz Magna dispassionately ran over the leaves of his prayer-book, till he had found the marriage service, and then closed the book, his forefinger marking the place. Lord Rokesle stood apart, and with a sly and meditative smile observed them. "Your plea is a remarkable one," said Simon Orts.
Morfit, then, to confess to her in frankness that, after all these rockets and bonfires " "Why, that's the unfortunate part of the whole affair," said Lord Rokesle. It happened by a rare chance that some of my fellows were on the point of setting out for the mainland from Heriz pier yonder, not from the end of the island whence Harry sailed, so she and her maid embarked instanter.
Simon Orts wheeled a different being, servile and cringing. "Your Lordship is pleased to be pleasant. Indeed, though, I fear that your ears must burn, sir, for I was but now expatiating upon the manifold kindnesses your Lordship has been so generous as to confer upon your unworthy friend. I was admiring Lady Allonby's ruffle, sir, Valenciennes, I take it, and very choice." Lord Rokesle laughed.
Lord Rokesle had wounded him in the arm, but Orts did not seem aware of this. He crowded upon his master. Now there were little beads of sweat on Lord Rokesle's brow, and his tongue protruded from his mouth, licking at it ravenously. Step by step Lord Rokesle drew back; there was no withstanding this dumb fanatic, who did not know when he was wounded, who scarcely parried attack.
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