I was a nameless man; you needed me: Why did I proffer you my aid? there stood
A certain pretty cousin at your side.
—Browning.
With a quick glance thrown on each of the four faces, shrewd Sir John had quickly appraised the mood of this small clique. Stowmaries in sullen rage against the whole world because of this thwarting of his most cherished desire, Rochester and the Irishman, flippant and eager for sport, with Wykeham as the sobering influence, the self-constituted guardian of religious obligations.
 
It was also obvious to this keen observer of other people's moods that there would be no need for circumlocution. Though silence reigned in the room, the subject of Stowmaries' marriage was uppermost in the minds of his friends.
 
Sir John therefore, having thrown aside his hat and cloak, went boldly up to the table and greeting the others with easy familiarity, he placed one fleshy hand on Stowmaries' shoulder and said abruptly:
 
"Tush man! be not so downhearted. My faith on it! have I not seen worse plights even than yours? Yet from which a man of daring and resource soon found a means of extricating himself."
 
The interruption was a welcome one, for though Sir John Ayloffe was no longer very popular with the gilded clique of young and noble rakes, since he was known to be at his[71] last resources and was oft in sore straits to pay his gaming debts, nevertheless at this moment his lusty, cheery voice helped to dissipate the gloom which was such an unusual atmosphere for these ribald pleasure-seekers to breathe, and one or two voices with obvious signs of relief cordially invited the newcomer to sit.
 
"Then you, too, know our friend's melancholy story?" queried Lord Rochester as he pushed with hospitable intent a mug of wine in the direction of Ayloffe.
 
"Yes," replied the latter. "Mistress Julia Peyton is my kinswoman. 'Tis from her I heard the tale."
 
Stowmaries' frown grew even darker than before. He liked not the suggestion thus implied, the more than obvious hint of this second sentimental complication in his life.
 
Sir John, in the meanwhile, had selected a chair, which was less rickety than most, and sat down deliberately in such a position that not one of the flickering and uncertain rays of candle light touched his face or illumined its expression.
 
He took the cup of wine offered him by my lord Rochester and drank it down slowly and at one draught, the while a few ribald remarks flew across the table. Ayloffe's advent seemed certainly to have brought a new atmosphere into the room. Despite Stowmaries' frown and Wykeham's protests, Rochester and Sir Knaith took up the lighter side of the past events; they refused to appreciate the solemnity of the subject or the serious obligations resulting from that solemn sacrament of matrimony performed between children over eighteen years ago.
 
Sir John waited patiently whilst a volley of somewhat coarse jests was fired at the gloomy hero of the romantic adventure, and until he saw that Stowmaries was on the[72] verge of losing his temper, and Wykeham on the point of quarrelling with Bullock.
 
Then he pushed the empty cup away from him and leaning forward across the table, he broke in quietly: "Nay Sir Anthony," he said with pleasing urbanity, "we all know what you would say. 'Sdeath! an I mistake not you have harped on that string passing often in the last hour or so, and we all know too that Lord Stowmaries is not desirous of seeing it snap. But I maintain that if a gentleman is placed in so terrible a predicament as is my lord, then it is the duty of all his friends to try and effect an honourable rescue."
 
The earnestness with which he spoke had silenced the jocose as well as the moody tongues. But Sir Anthony Wykeham now protested hotly.
 
"That is impossible," he said. "The sacrament of marriage cannot be set aside."
 
"Only under certain conditions," corrected Sir John.
 
"Methinks this is braggart's talk," muttered young Bullock who had no love for the older man.
 
"How will you do it?" queried Stowmaries with moody hopelessness.
 
"With his tongue chiefly," sneered the Irishman.
 
But Ayloffe seemed in no way abashed by the hostility, which his statement had evoked; he returned the sarcastic or angry glances levelled at him with a stare of assurance.
 
Leaning heavily upon the table, his prominent eyes fixed boldly on the over-excited faces before him, he looked a strange contrast to the small, chattering crowd which was grouped around him. Unlike the others, he had supped soberly at home and drunk little or no wine; his head was clear, his tongue glib, and the only uncertainty apparent in his demeanour was that with which from time to time he[73] seemed to be listening to the noi............