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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I did not know until now that you have told me, Bert," said Mr. Lloyd, looking meaningly at him. "You never told me before, did you?" The colour deepened on Bert's face. "No, father; I don't think I did," he murmured. "Had you any reason for saying nothing about him, Bert? Were you afraid we would not let you belong to the club if we knew that Dick Wilding was its captain?" asked Mr. Lloyd.
Wilding, "you will have a large number to provide for. I am a lonely single man, Mrs. Goldstraw; and I hope to live with all the persons in my employment as if they were members of my family. Until that time comes, you will only have me, and the new partner whom I expect immediately, to provide for. What my partner's habits may be, I cannot yet say.
Ruth's hand went to her bosom; fear stared at Blake from out her eyes, blue as the heavens overhead; a grey shade overcast the usual warm pallor of her face. "With Mr. Wilding?" she cried. "That man!" And though she said no more her eyes implored him to go on, and tell her what more there might be. He did so, and he spared not Wilding.
Who knows?" he questioned most suggestively, arching his brows and tightening his lips. "Wives are strange kittle-kattle, and husbands have been known before to grow inconvenient. Upon reflection, Your Grace will no doubt discern the precise degree of faith to attach to what this lady may tell you against Mr. Wilding." "Oh!" exclaimed Ruth, her cheeks flaming crimson. "But this is monstrous!"
There was a slight flush on his cheeks, an added lustre in his eye, as he took Wilding's hand and shook it heartily before Wilding had time to kiss His Grace's. "You are late," he said, but there was no reproach in his voice. "We had looked to find you here when we came ashore. You had my letter?" "I had not, Your Grace," answered Wilding, very grave. "It was stolen."
"Folly!" Wilding protested. "Whitehall thinks otherwise. What of the troops at Taunton?" "More folly." "Well-I would you had that letter." "At least," said Wilding, "I have the superscription, and we know from Shenke that no name was mentioned in the letter itself."
"Lord Gervase Scoresby?" questioned Grey, less carelessly. Battiscomb half turned to him, then faced the Duke again as he made answer, "Mr. Wilding there, can tell you more concerning Lord Gervase." All eyes swept round to Wilding who sat in silence, listening; Monmouth's were laden with inquiry and some anxiety. Wilding shook his head slowly, sadly.
To save Wilding for the Cause he had resorted to this desperate expedient of betraying that Cause. It must be observed, however, that he had not done so save under the conviction that betrayed it was bound to be, and that since that was inevitable the thing had better come from him for Wilding's sake than from Richard Westmacott.
For graceful simplicity, and for depth of earnest but not strained sentiment, he never, I think, exceeded ‘The Roman Widow.’ The two instruments seem to repeat the two mottoes on the urn, ‘Ave Domine—Vale Domine.’ The head was painted from Miss Wilding, already mentioned; but it seems to me partly associated with the type of Mrs. Stillman’s face as well.
There was in her tone something which, despite its friendliness, gave Sir Rowland his dismissal. He was not at best a man of keen sensibilities; yet even so, he could not mistake the request to withdraw that was implicit in her tone and manner. He took his leave, registering, however, in his heart a vow that he would have his way with Wilding.
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