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Updated: August 23, 2024
Gwynplaine! He knew the name. Masca ridens. Like every one else, he had been to see the Laughing Man. He had read the sign nailed up against the Tadcaster Inn as one reads a play-bill that attracts a crowd. He had noted it. He remembered it directly in its most minute details; and, in any case, it was easy to compare them with the original.
Meantime he would be grateful if Captain Hamilton would give orders that Lord Tadcaster should eat no pastry, and drink only six ounces of claret, otherwise he should feel that he was indeed betraying his trust. The captain was pleased and touched with this letter. It recalled to him how his mother sobbed when she launched her little middy, swelling with his first cocked hat and dirk.
What did Gwynplaine feel? a thirst a thirst to see Dea. He felt but that. To reach the Green Box again, and the Tadcaster Inn, with its sounds and light full of the cordial laughter of the people; to find Ursus and Homo, to see Dea again, to re-enter life. Disillusion, like a bow, shoots its arrow, man, towards the True. Gwynplaine hastened on. He approached Tarrinzeau Field.
Staines made one or two movements to stop Lord Tadcaster with her hand, that expressive feature with which, at such times, a sensitive woman can do all but speak. When at last he paused for her reply, she said, "Me marry again! Oh! for shame!" "Mrs. Staines Rosa you will marry again, some day." "Never. Me take another husband, after such a man as I have lost! I should be a monster.
She prayed for her by name in the Liturgy, but she troubled her no more. This state of things lasted some six weeks, when she received a letter from her cousin Tadcaster, close on the heels of his last, to which she had replied as I have indicated. She knew his handwriting, and opened it with a smile. That smile soon died off her horror-stricken face. The letter ran thus:
On the 29th of March, 1461, the two armies encountered one another at Towton Field, near Tadcaster. In the numbers engaged, as well as in the terrible obstinacy of the struggle, no such battle had been seen in England since the fight of Senlac. The two armies together numbered nearly 120,000 men.
"Why, there is none of that game in the Royal Navy," said he. "Hasn't been this twenty years." "I'm so sorry," said Dr. Staines. "If there's a form of wit I revere, it is practical joking." "Doctor, you are a satirical beggar." Staines told Tadcaster, and he went forward and chaffed his friend the quartermaster, who was one of the forecastle wits.
I assure you he is awfully cut up; and he is having his cry out in my cabin." "Having his cry out! why, what for?" "Leaving his wife, sir." "Oh, is that all?" "Well, I don't wonder," cried little Tadcaster warmly. "She is, oh, so beautiful!" and a sudden blush o'erspread his pasty cheeks.
The heavy army of scheming mothers, and the light cavalry of artful daughters, rose before her cousinly and disinterested eyes, and she asked herself what chance poor little Tadcaster would have of catching a true love, with a hundred female artists manoeuvring, wheeling, ambuscading, and charging upon his wealth and titles.
Rosa Staines was wiser about her husband than she had been, but she had plenty to learn. Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines nearly every day. She received him with a pleasure that was not at all lively, but quite undisguised.
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