# Parson Kelly/Chapter 17
### CHAPTER XVII LADY OXFORD'S 'COUP DE THÉÂTRE.'

THE Parson, when the two friends had climbed the crowded stairs, began making his way towards his fate and Lady Oxford's table, with a smile on his face. He did not see Rose, who was a little apart, hidden from him by a group of strangers. Wogan was about joining her, when a woman's voice whispered in his ear:
'You are mad!'
The voice was Lady Mary's.
'You are mad, both of you! He should be halfway to the coast by now. What brings him here? I wrote, or rather I sent to him.'
'True,' said Wogan, remembering the letter which he had picked up in the Parson's lodging, and slipped into his pocket. It had been thrust clean out of his mind at the Deanery by those more pressing questions as to how the Blow had been discovered, and how they were to escape from the consequences of the discovery. He drew it out, still sealed up.
'He has not opened it?' she asked.
'He has not seen it,' replied Wogan, who began to fear from her ladyship's discomposure that the letter held news of an urgent importance. She took the letter from his hands, and broke the seal.
'This was my message,' she said. There was no scrap of writing in the letter, but a feather from a bird's wing: it meant "Fly!"
'The feather is white,' said Wogan. He could not have mounted it.'
'He loses his life.'
'Perhaps, but he keeps his honour. There is something that he must do in London if by any means he can. He must burn the papers at his lodgings and the best hope lies in audacity.'
Mr. Wogan tore up the sheet on which her ladyship had written Mr. Johnson's name into fragments too minute for anyone to piece them together again.
'This proof of your good will,' said he, 'shall not rise in judgment against you.'
'But you?' said Lady Mary. 'Why do you stay?'
Wogan laughed.
'For one thing, I have a little business of my own to settle, and—well—'
'And,' said she, 'your friend's in danger.'
She spoke with so much kindliness that Mr. Wogan felt a trifle awkward, and turned his eyes from her face. He saw that Rose still stood alone, though many of the gallants eyed her through their quizzing-glasses.
'Lady Mary,' he said, 'you have the kindest heart!'
'Hush! Whisper it,' she replied, 'or you will destroy my reputation. What service would you have me do now?'
'You see Miss Rose? You have read a certain ballad which the ignorant give to your ladyship? And you know Lady Oxford. It is Miss Rose Townley's first visit to this house, and one cannot believe that Lady Oxford asked her with any amiable intention.'
'And I am to be Lady Oxford's spoil-sport?'
'It has gone beyond sport. At this moment her ladyship has murder in her mind. The girl entered the room wearing our hostess's portrait in diamonds,' and he told her shortly how she came to wear it.
Lady Mary looked her horror.
'She has hidden it, but you will not leave the girl?'
Lady Mary nodded, her lips tight closed.
Wogan presented the girl. Lady Mary made room for her at her side, and Wogan only heard her say, 'My dear, be brave, you tremble.'
What else passed, Wogan did not desire to hear. Lady Mary had faults, they say, as a woman, but she was of a manlike courage, and her's was the friendship of a man. Never did woman need it more than Miss Townley, and never, sure, was counsel and comfort wiser and kinder than that which, Wogan knew later, Lady Mary gave to the angry, frightened, and bewildered girl.
Lady Mary's credentials were Wogan's name; the girl could not suspect them. How had she come hither? Lady Oxford had invited her father, Rose said, as a schoolfellow of my lord's, and had asked, too, for the daughter's company. Then the young lady was lured, her new friend said, by a wicked woman for a cruel purpose. That purpose, whatever it was, and neither Wogan nor Kelly nor Lady Mary could do more than guess, must be defeated at any cost—at all costs. Lady Mary glanced at the guilt and guilelessness of our sex. Kelly, too, had been entrapped, before he knew Rose, but that was ended. Lady Mary certainly knew it was ended, however things appeared. According to men's notions, he was compelled to lie to Rose about the miniature. Now Miss Townley might, if she chose, give Kelly his congé to-morrow. To-night she must know nothing, see nothing, bear no grudge, be staunch; she owed it to her honour, to the honour of her sex, to Kelly's very life, and to her revenge, if she craved for one, on the false enchantress. That was Lady Mary's sermon. And the lesson was needed. She reported it later to Wogan who, at this moment, was following the Parson with all his eyes.
Lady Oxford at the card-table was greeting Kelly with a conspicuous kindness. Her smile was one wide welcome.
'My dear Mr. Johnson,' she said, 'you are grateful as flowers worked on the very finest Alençon. Sure you bring me those laces for which I gave you a commission in Paris, and the lutestring from my Lady Mar.'
Mr. Kelly murmured a word that the laces were below, and he hoped her ladyship would be satisfied. But his eyes searched the room all the time for Rose, whom he could not see.
'You shall show me them!' cried Lady Oxford; 'but first you must bring me luck. Mr. Johnson and I were always lucky before he went abroad.' She spoke with a provoking smile at Colonel Montague, and then shot a quick glance at Lord Sidney Beauclerk, who was now risen from the table, and stood in a window watching her.
The glance said plain as writing, 'You understand. I have to face out the ballad. I can trust you.' Wogan's blood boiled as he noticed and read the look, for it was just that tender appeal to her lover's faith which always brought about the lover's undoing. Lord Sidney's young face flushed with pride at the trust she reposed in him, and she continued to Kelly:
'Look over my hand, Mr. Johnson; you must not leave me. What card shall I choose? You, Colonel Montague, I discard you. I appoint you to the Commissariat, run and see that Lady Rich does not starve. She is leaving her party with the air of a loser, and needs the comforts of chicken and champagne. But first let me make you better acquainted with the gentleman who supersedes you. Mr. Johnson, the right-hand man of my dear Bishop of Rochester.' There she stopped short in a pretty confusion, as though the words had slipped from her lips against her will.
'Who should be thrown to the lions,' growled the Colonel to himself, and added gruffly, 'Mr. Johnson and I have met before.'
The Colonel turned his broad scarlet back with the ghost of a bow, and went reluctantly to Lady Rich, a mature matron, dressed to kill, in virginal white. Wogan watched them out of the door, and was again turning back to the card-table, when again Lord Sidney Beauclerk's hand was laid on his sleeve.
'A word with you, Mr. Hilton,' said he in a hard voice.
'When the half-hour is past, my lord,' said Wogan, looking at his watch. 'There are still eight minutes and a few seconds.'
'I will set my watch by yours,' said the lad with great dignity; which he did, and went back to his corner.
Mr. Johnson's welcome, meanwhile, was as that of the prodigal swain. He made more than one effort to slip from her side and go in search of Rose, but Lady Oxford would not let him go. She had eyes only for him, eyes to caress. Many curious people watched the scene as at a play. All the town knew the ballad, and here was Lady Oxford's reply. Mr. Johnson and Lady Oxford were to all seeming the best of friends, and no more than friends, for was not Miss Townley in the room to testify the limits of their friendship?
A shifting of the groups gave Wogan suddenly a view of Rose Townley. She was still talking with Lady Mary, or rather she was still listening to her, and threw in now and again a short reply. But she spoke with an occupied air, and her eyes were drawn ever towards the card-table at which Lady Oxford was practising her blandishments on the Parson. Then to Wogan's relief a few ladies and gentlemen stepped between, and the living screen hid him from her view.
At this moment Lady Oxford lost heavily.
'An ace? Sonica! I am bankrupt!' she cried, and rising from the table she addressed the Parson. 'Mr. Johnson, you bring me no better luck than did the Colonel. I must console myself with private talk, and news of lace and lutestring. What have you brought me? Come, I positively die to see,' and so, with her sweetest smile, she carried off the Parson.
It was thus she had wrought on that first night when Kelly met the Colonel, but there was a mighty difference in Kelly's demeanour. Then he had given her his arm with the proudest gallantry. Now her ladyship went out of her way to lead him past Rose, where she sat with Lady Mary. He threw an imploring glance at the girl, and followed in Lady Oxford's wake, the very figure of discomfort.
Fine smiles rippled silently round the company as the pair made their way to the door. Rose watched them, her face grown very hard and white, but she said no word until they had gone. She stood motionless, except that her bosom rose and fell quickly. Then she turned to Lady Mary.
'I must bid your ladyship good-night,' she said; 'I have stayed too long.'
Pride kept her voice clear, her words steady, but it could not mask the pain of her face.
'What ails you, child? You must smile. Smile!' whispered Lady Mary. But Rose was struck too hard. She lowered her eyes and fixed them on the floor to hide the humiliation they expressed, but she could not smile. She tried, but no more came of it than a quiver at the corners of her lips, and then she set her mouth firmly, as though she could not trust herself.
'I thought I had persuaded you,' whispered Lady Mary. 'It is for honour, it is for life, his life. Appearances are nothing. You must stay.'
'I thank your ladyship, who is most kind. I will stay,' said the girl. Her face flushed purely with a delicate, proud anger.
Lady Mary presented her to some of her friends, with whom Rose bore herself bravely. Wogan saw that she had taken her part, and blessed Lady Mary.
He had followed Lady Oxford and the Parson out of the room, and leaned over the balusters while they descended the stairs. It was an ominous business, this summons of Lady Oxford. Why must she carry him off alone with her? What blow had she to strike? Mr. Wogan was not surprised that Kelly had turned pale, and though he held his head erect, had none the less the air of one led to the sacrifice. To make the matter yet more ominous, Lady Oxford herself seemed in a flutter of excitement; her colour was heightened; she sparkled with even more than her usual beauty; her tongue rattled with even more than its usual liveliness.
Half-way down the stairs she met Lady Rich and Colonel Montague mounting. Lady Oxford stopped and spoke to the Colonel. Mr. Wogan caught a word or two, such as 'Miss Townley—the poor girl knows no one.' Kelly started a little; the Colonel sullenly bowed. Lady Oxford, leaning upon Mr. Kelly's arm in order to provoke the Colonel, must needs in pity bid the Colonel wait upon Rose in order to provoke Mr. Kelly. There Wogan recognised her ladyship's refinements.
The pair passed down to the foot of the stairs. To the right of the staircase a door gave on to that little room into which Kelly had led Lady Oxford on the night of the Masquerade. Lady Oxford left his arm and went towards it.
Kelly remained standing by the stairs, very still. It was in this room that Lady Oxford had discovered the Chevalier's likeness in the lid of the snuff-box, and had deceived George into the belief that she was, heart and soul, as deep in the Cause as he. It was that room which had witnessed the beginnings of the history. Now it seemed it was like to see the end.
Kelly looked up the stairs and saw Wogan's face. He smiled, in a quiet, hopeless way, and then Lady Oxford threw open the door. She turned back to Kelly, a languorous smile upon her lips, a tender light in her eyes. Neither the smile nor the look had power to beguile the two men any longer. Kelly stepped forwards to her like a man that is tired. Wogan had again the queer sense of incongruity. Behind him voices laughed and chattered, in some room to his left music sounded; and here at the foot of the stairs was a woman all smiles and graces playing with Life and Death as a child with toys.
The pair passed into the room. The door shut behind them. The click of the latch is one of the things Wogan never will forget.