SCENE XXIV

When Mistress Kitty had sipped half a glass with great show of relish and rakishness, and Lady Standish, under protest, had sucked a few spoonfuls; when Lady Maria, stuck in the middle of her fourth helping, protested that she really could not finish the tumbler and forthwith began to show signs of incoherence and somnolence; when O'Hara broke into snatches of song, and Lord Verney began to make calf's eyes afresh at the lost Mistress Kitty; when Sir Jasper, hanging round his wife's chair, showed unequivocal signs of repentance and a longing for reconciliation: when Stafford himself became more pointed in his admiration of Mistress Kitty and a trifle broader in his jests than was quite consistent with his usual breeding, the little widow deemed it, at last, time to break up the party.

There was a vast bustle, a prodigious ordering and counter-ordering.

"Never mind me," whispered Stafford, ever full of good humour and tact, into Sir Jasper's ear, "take your wife home, man, I'll sleep here if needs be."

"Not a foot," asserted O'Hara, apparently quite sober, and speaking with the most pleasant deliberation in the world, "not a foot will I stir from this place, so long as there is a lemon left."

"The cursed scoundrel," cried Lord Verney, babbling with fury as he returned from the stables, "the scoundrel, Spicer, has driven off with my curricle!"

"Then shall we be a merry trio to drink daylight in," said Stafford, and cheered.

"Come, dear Lady Maria," said Kitty. "I shall take care of you. I will give you a seat in my chaise; we shall drive home together."

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," mumbled the Dowager. "Who is that remarkably agreeable person?" she requested to know of Stafford in her prodigiously audible whisper. "My dear," she turned again to Kitty, "I like you wonderfully. I cannot quite remember your name, my dear, but we will go home together."

"Dear, dear Lady Maria!" cried Mistress Kitty, honey sweet. "My Lord Verney, give your arm to your revered relative—mind you lead her carefully," she said, with all the imps in her eyes dancing, "for I fear Mr. Stafford's cordial has proved a little staggering—after the night air! And warn her ladyship's attendant to be ready to escort us back in my carriage."

Then, taking advantage of Sir Jasper's absence—that gentleman might even then be heard cursing his sleepy servants in the yard—Mistress Kitty ran over to Lady Standish, who stood wistful and apart at the inglenook.

"My dear," she murmured, "the game is now in your hands."

"Ah, no!" returned the other. "Oh, Kitty, you have been an evil counsellor!"

"Is this your gratitude?" retorted Kitty, and pinched her friend with vicious little fingers. "Why, woman, your husband never thought so much of you in his life as he does to-day! Why, there has never been so much fuss made over you since you were born. Are these your thanks?"

"Oh, for the moment when I can fly to his bosom and tell him all! My foolish endeavour to make him jealous, my sinful pretence that he had a rival in my heart!"

"What?" exclaimed the widow, and her whisper took all the emphasis of a shriek. "Fly to his bosom? Then I have done with you! Bring him to his knees you mean, madam. Tell him all? Tell him all, forsooth, let him know you have made a fool of him, all for nothing; let him think that you had never had an idea beyond pining for his love; that no other man ever thought of you, that he has never had a rival, never will have one, that you are merely his own uninteresting Julia whom nobody wants. Why, Lady Standish, 'tis laying down the arms when the battle is yours. Sheer insanity! Prodigious, prodigious!" cried Mistress Kitty. "Is it possible that you and I are of the same sex?"

Bewildered, yet half convinced, Lady Standish listened and wondered.

"Be guided by me," whispered Kitty again. "Indeed, my dear, I mean well by you. Keep your secret if you love your husband. Keep it more preciously than you would keep jour youth and your beauty; for I tell you 'tis now your most valuable possession. Here," said she, and took a letter from her famous bag and thrust it into Julia's hands, "here is what will bring him to his knees! Oh, what a game you have upon this drive home if you know how to play it!"

"What is this, now?" cried Lady Standish.

"Hush!" ordered Kitty, and clapped her friend's hand over the letter. "Promise, promise! Here comes your lord!"

Sir Jasper had approached them as she spoke; he now bowed confusedly and took his wife's hand. But:

"A word in your ear," said Mistress Kitty, arresting him as they were about to pass out. "A word in your ear, sir. If a man has a treasure at home he would keep for himself, he will do well to guard it! An unwatched jewel, my good sir, invites thieves. Good-night!"

*****

And now in the great room of the Bear Inn were left only three: the two gallant gentlemen, O'Hara and Stafford, and Mistress Kitty.

Mistress Kitty's game had been successfully played out; and yet the lady lingered.

"Good night," she began, then shot a glance at Stafford. "I wonder," she said innocently, "if my carriage be ready, and whether Lady Maria is well installed?"

"I will see," said Stafford simply, and vanished.

O'Hara stood by the table, slowly dipping the ladle into the punch and absently pouring the liquor back into the bowl again. She sidled round to him.

"Denis!" said she.

He turned his wildly-bright eyes upon her, but made no answer.

"I'm going back," said she, and held out her hand.

He carefully put down the ladle, took the tips of her little fingers and kissed them. But his hands and his lips were cold.

"Glory be to God," said he, "it's a grand game you played with me ... the Bath Comedy entirely, Kitty."

Then he dropped her hand and took up the punch-ladle again with downcast looks.

"Will you not give me your arm to my carriage?" said she, after a slight pause.

"Ah, Kitty, sure haven't you broke my heart for me ... and has not the punch robbed me of my legs!"

His wild bright eyes were deeply sad as he turned them on her, and he was pale as death.

She drew back quickly, frowned, hesitated, frowned again, and then brightened up once more.

"Then, sir," said she, "when your legs are restored to you, pray let them conduct your heart round to my lodgings, and we shall see what can be done towards mending it."

She dropped him a curtsey and was gone.

As Stafford folded her into the chaise, he whispered:

"If ever I have a chance of running away with you, Kitty, I'll take very good care not to let you know which road I mean to choose!"