The Highwayman (Bailey)/Chapter XXXIII

Captain McBean was strutting to and fro for the benefit of his impatience when Mr. O'Connor returned to him. "Patrick, you look morose. Had he the legs of you?"

"He had not," says O'Connor, nursing his hand. "But he had a beautiful nose. Sure, it was harder than you would think. And I have sprained my thumb."

"What, did he fight?"

"He did not—saving the tongue of him. But I had broke my whip upon him, so I broke his nose to be even. Egad, he was beautiful before and behind. He cannot show this long while. Neither behind nor before, faith. What will he do, d'ye think?"

"Oh Lud, he'll not face it out. He would dream of hangmen. He'll take the waters. He'll go the grand tour. D'ye know, Patrick, there's a masterly touch in old Boyce. To choose that oaf for his decoy at Pontoise! Who could guess at danger in him? No wonder Charles Middleton saw no guile! Yet, you observe, the creature's full of venom."

"He bleeds like a pig," says Mr. O'Connor. "What will we be waiting for, sir?"

"The lady."

"She goes to Harry? Oh, he's the lucky one. What a Venus it is!"

"Aye, aye. She should have married you, Patrick. You would have ridden her."

"Ah now, don't destroy me with envy and desires," says Mr. O'Connor. "But, sure, there was another, a noble fat girl. Will she be bespoke?"

"She belongs to the one-armed hero."

"Maybe she could do with another. There's enough of her for two. Oh, come away, sir, before I danger my soul."

They heard the wheels of the coach and marched out. Alison was coming downstairs with Mrs. Weston. "What now?" says McBean glowering. "Do you need a duenna to watch you with your husband?"

"Madame is Harry's mother, sir," Alison said.

For once Captain McBean was disconcerted. "A thousand pardons," says he, and with much ceremony put Mrs. Weston into the coach.

As they rode after it, "You fight too fast, sir," says O'Connor with a grin. "I have remarked it before."

Captain McBean 'was still something out of countenance. "Who would have thought he had a mother here?" he growled.

"Oh, faith, you did not suppose the old Colonel brought him forth—like Jove plucking Minerva out of his swollen head."

"I did not, Patrick, you loon. But I did not guess his mother would be here with this gorgeous madame wife."

"Fie now, is it the Lord God don't advise you of everything? 'Tis an indignity, faith."

Captain McBean swore at him in a friendly way, and they jogged on through the Islington lanes….

So after a while it happened that Colonel Boyce, raising a hot and angry head at the creature who dared open his bedroom door, found himself looking at Mrs. Weston. "Ods my life! Kate! What a pox do you want here?" says he.

"You are hurt. I thought you would want nursing."

"I do not want nursing, damme. How did you hear of the business?"

"That Scotch captain rode out to tell us."

"Od burn the fellow! Humph. No. Maybe he is no fool, neither. Us? Who is us, Kate? Mrs. Alison?"

"She is gone up to Harry now."

Colonel Boyce whistled. "Come up and we will show you a thing, eh? That is Scripture, Kate. You used to have your mouth full of Scripture."

"You put me out of favour with that."

"Let it be, can't you? What, they will make it up, then?"

"Does that hurt you? Indeed, they would never have quarrelled but for you."

"Oh, aye, blame it on me. I am the devil, faith. Come, ma'am, what have I done to the pretty dears? She's a warm piece and Harry's a milksop, and that's the whole of it."

"With your tricks you made her think Harry was such as you are. And that wife you married came to Alison and told her that Harry was base-born."

"Rot the shrew! She must meddle must she? Egad, she was always a blunder, Madame Rachel." He swore at her fully. "Bah, what though? Why should jolly Alison heed her?"

"Alison knows everything now. I told her."

"Egad, you go beyond me, Kate. You that made me swear none should ever know the boy was yours. You go and blab it out! Damn you for a woman."

The woman looked at him strangely. "You have done that indeed," she said.

"No, that's too bad. I vow it is." For once Colonel Boyce was stung. He fell silent and fidgeted, and made a long arm for the herb water by his bed. Mrs. Weston gave it him. "Let be, can't you?" he cried, and drank all the same. "Eh, Kate that came over my guard…. She has made you suffer, the shrew. Egad, I could whip her through the town for it."

"Yes. Whip her."

"Oh, what would you have?" Colonel Boyce shifted under a rueful air, strange in him. "I am what I am. I have had no luck in women. She was a blunder. And you—you have paid to say of me what you will. Egad, you have the chance now."

"Are you in pain?"

"Be hanged to pain! Don't gloat, Kate. That's not like you, at least."

"Oh, I am sorry. I am sorry."

"No, nor that neither. Damme, what should I be with you pitying me? Let it be. Come, you want something of me, I suppose. Something for your Harry, eh? What is it?"

"I want nothing but that he should live. He has no need of you or me."

"Oh Lud, he will live. But you were always full of fears."

"Yes. You used to say that long ago."

Colonel Boyce winced again. "Eh, you get in your thrusts, Kate, I swear I did what I could to save him."

"I could not have borne to come to you else."

"Humph. I see no good in your coming. There's little comfort for you or me in seeing each other. I suppose it's your damned duty."

"I don't know."

"Oh Lud, then begone and let's have done with it all."

"I want to stay till you are well."

"Aye, faith, it's comfortable to see me on my back and helpless."

Mrs. Weston did not answer for a moment. She was busy with setting his table in order. "I want to have some right somewhere. She is with Harry."

"By God, Kate, you're a good soul," Colonel Boyce cried.

"I am not. I am jealous of her," Mrs. Weston said with a sob.

"Does Harry know of you?"

"What does it matter? He'll not care now."

"Kate—come here, child."

"No. No. I am not crying," Mrs. Weston said.