Sir Piers

“ After this Sir Piers grew painfully and suspiciously conscious of the fact that his son's correspondence became irregular, his epistles constrained and brief, while more than one incidental reference to the artist's handsome daughter caused alarm in the parental heart, all the more as young Piers had said that her father, 'though a man of humble origin, was an emperor among artists.'
'Piers,' said the baronet to his confidential friend and local factotum, John Balderstone, 'refers to this girl oftener than I quite relish or like ”

“ His hunting-days were well-nigh past now; yet, at a meet, all the field rejoiced to see the fine old man in his saddle, and with all his pride of bearing—for a wealthy parvenu, however honestly he had won his wealth, Sir Piers would have treated with chilling hauteur—he was never above conversing with some sturdy farmer of Kyle or Cunninghame, kindly and affably, on the price of stock, the fall of wheat, on breeding, fattening, or draining, and always winding up by some, often irrelevant, anecdote of his sporting experiences in India, or when he followed the drums of the Cameronians. ”

“ Sir Piers was further accused of illegally occupying Callan and other royal manors in Kilkenny and Tipperary, but these lands were soon afterwards specially granted to him and his wife, and to their heirs male. Kildare charged his rival with helping O’Carroll and lending him cannon to defend Leap Castle against him. ”

“ In October 1632 he was translated from Peterborough to Bath and Wells. The appointment was virtually due to Laud, who perceived that Piers would prove a ready instrument in carrying out his scheme of doctrine and discipline. Nor did Piers disappoint his patron's hopes. As soon as he entered on his see he set himself to enforce the ceremonies most obnoxious to the puritans, and to harass those who refused obedience, thus gaining from the then dominant party the character of being 'very vigilant and active for the good both of the ecclesiastical and civil state' (Calamy, Continuation, p. 293) . ”

“ Sir Beverley stood his ground, however, his black brows fiercely drawn. "Get up, Piers!" he ordered, his tone no longer blustering, but curtly peremptory. "Get up, do you hear?" he added with a gleam of humour. "You may as well give in at once, you young mule. You'll have to in the end."
"Shall I?" said Piers.
And then suddenly his own sense of humour was kindled again, and he uttered his boyish laugh.
"We won't quarrel about it, what?" he said, and stretched a wet hand upwards. "Let's consider the incident closed! There's nothing whatever to be fashed about." ”

“ This, with their usual imbecility, they speedily agreed to, and Piers soon returned to the court, which he filled with buffoons and parasites. Any mountebank who could make a fool of himself was sure of an engagement at the palace. The king's horse-collars were worn out with being grinned through, and the family circle of royalty was never without a clown to the ring, under the management of Piers Gaveston. The favourite himself became so arrogant that he would dress himself up in the royal jewels, * wearing the crown instead of his own hat, and turning the sceptre into a walking-stick. ”

“ The two came slowly down the stairs. Like people leaving the scene of a catastrophe, they carried in their eyes the terror of what they had beheld. Their faces were rigid. Piers's mouth was drawn to one side in an expression of disgust. It was like a mask of tragedy. They stood in the wide doorway of the dining room as in a picture framed. Maurice and Renny smiled at them awkwardly, trying to put a decent face on the affair. "Going, eh?" Maurice said. "Have something first, Piers." ”

“ Piers was young, wealthy, handsome,—a catch for any woman; but—fiercely he swore it—he should fall a prey to no schemer. When he married—as marry eventually he must—he should make an alliance of which any man might be proud. The Evesham blood should mix with none but the highest. In Piers he would see the father's false step counteracted. He thanked Heaven that he had never been able to detect in the boy any trace of the piece of cheap prettiness that had given him birth. He might have been his own son, son of the woman who had been the rapture and the ruin of his life. ”

“ PIERS, PIERSE, or PIERCE, WILLIAM (1580–1670) , successively bishop of Peterborough and of Bath and Wells, the son of William Piers or Pierse, was born at Oxford, and baptised in the parish church of All Saints 3 Sept. 1580. His father, called by Wood 'a haberdasher of hats,' was nephew or near of kin to John Piers [q. v.] ”

“ Her heart had grown hard towards all men of late. She sometimes thought that but for Jeanie it would have atrophied altogether. There were so few things nowadays that seemed to touch her. She could not even regret her lost baby. But yet the memory of Piers sitting on that rock at her feet pierced her oddly; Piers, the passionate, the adoring, the hot-blooded; Piers the invincible; Piers the prince! ”

“ Did she ever tell you her age?"
"Never," said Piers.
"I wonder," said Ina coolly. And then rather suddenly she rose. "Piers, if I'm a prying cat, you're a hard-mouthed mule! There! Why can't you admit that you're in love with her?"
Piers faced her with no sign of surprise. "Why don't you tell me that you're in love with Guyes?" he said.
"Because it wouldn't be true!" She flung back her answer with a laugh that sounded unaccountably bitter. "I have yet to meet the man who is worth the trouble."
"Oh, really!" said Piers. "Don't flatter us more than you need! I'm sorry for Guyes myself. ”

“ Sir Beverley suffered the action with no further protest than a frown.
"You weren't so mighty anxious when I first suggested it," he grumbled.
Piers laughed. "Can't a man change his mind? I'm keen enough now."
"What do you want to go for?" Sir Beverley looked at him suspiciously.
But Piers' frank return of his look told him nothing. "I love the South as you know," he said.
"Damn it, yes!" said Sir Beverley irritably. He could never endure any mention of the Southern blood in Piers. ”

“ Piers' eyes, dark as the night through which he had come, looked up at him.
"I mean just that. If you can't live for your own sake, live for hers!
She wants you. It'll break her heart if you go out now."
"Great Scott, man! You're not in earnest!" whispered Piers.
"I am in earnest. I know exactly what I am saying. I don't talk at random. She loved you. She wants you. You've lived for yourself all your life. Now—you've got to live for her."
Tudor's voice was low and vehement. A faint sparkle came into Piers' eyes as he heard it. ”

“ CHAPTER IV THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN For a week after Piers' arrival, Jeanie was better, so much better that she was able to be carried downstairs and into the garden where she loved to lie. There was a piano in the sitting-room, and Piers would sit at it by the hour together, playing anything she desired. She loved his music, would listen entranced for any length of time while he led her through a world of delight that she had never explored before. It soothed her restlessness, comforted her in weariness, made her forget her pain. ”

“ They had reached the conservatory, and, entering, it was Piers who led the way. His face, as they emerged into the library, was deathly, but he was absolute master of himself.
"I believe there is a meal in the dining-room," he said. "Will you help yourself while I go up?"
"No," said Wyndham briefly. "I am coming up with you."
He kept a hand upon Piers' arm all the way up the stairs, deliberately restraining him, curbing the fevered impetuosity that urged him with a grim insistence that would not yield an inch to any chafing for freedom. ”

“ It leads to a blank wall. You've got to live whether you like it or not. I'm going to do all I can to make you live, and you'll be a hound if you don't back me up."
His eyes looked down upon Piers, dominant and piercingly intent. And—perhaps it was mere physical weakness, or possibly the voluntary yielding of a strong will that was in its own way as great as the strength to which it yielded—Piers surrendered with a meekness such as Tudor had never before witnessed in him. ”

“ Avery," his voice softened suddenly, "I'm sorry I dragged you here if you didn't want to come."
She put out her hand to him instantly. It was the old Piers who had spoken, Piers the boy-lover who had won her heart so irresistibly, so completely.
He held the hand tightly, and she thought his face quivered a little as he said: "I don't mean to be a tyrant, dear. But somehow—somehow, you know—I can't always help it. A man with a raging thirst will take—anything he can get."
His eyes were still upon her, and her heart quickened to compassion at their look. ”

“ Victor groaned commiseratingly. "I will take them away, yes?" he suggested. "You will read them in the morning—when you have slept."
"Yes, take 'em away!" said Piers. "Stay a minute! What's that top one?
I'll look at that."
He took up the envelope. It was addressed in a man's square, firm writing to "Piers Evesham, Esq., Rodding Abbey."
"Someone who doesn't know," murmured Piers, and slit it open with a sense of relief. Some of the letters of condolence that he had received had been as salt rubbed into a wound.
He took out the letter and glanced at the signature: "Edmund Crowther!" ”

“ If anyone could save her, it would be Maxwell Wyndham. So Piers told himself each time he turned in his endless pacing and looked at that lighted window. Tudor believed in him. And—yes, he believed in him also. There had been something in the great man's attitude, something of arrogant self-assurance that had inspired him with confidence almost against his will. He had watched him saunter up the stairs with his hands thrust into his pockets and an air of limitless leisure pervading his every movement, and he had been exasperated by the man's deliberation and subtly comforted at the same time. ”

“ There came a low call behind him on the terrace. He wheeled, strangling a startled exclamation in his throat. A man's figure—a broad, powerful figure—lounged towards him. He seemed to be wearing carpet slippers, for he made no sound. It was Maxwell Wyndham, and Piers' heart ceased to beat. ”

“ Piers went on with the utmost steadiness. "We are not in the least suited to one another, and we have the sense to realize it. The next time Guyes asks her, I believe she will have him."
"Sense!" roared Sir Beverley. "Do you dare to talk to me of sense, you—you blind fool? Mighty lot of sense you can boast of! And what the devil does it matter whether you suit one another—as you call it—or not, so long as you keep the whip-hand? ”

“ Piers was silent.
Looking at him through the dusk, she was aware of a change in his demeanour, though as to its nature she was slightly doubtful.
"And if I don't tell him?" said Piers at length.
"You will," she said quickly.
"I don't know why I should." Piers' voice was dogged. "He'll know fast enough—when she gets engaged to Guyes."
"Know that you have played a double game," said Avery.
"Well?" he said. "And if he does?" ”

“ But Piers did not seem to notice. "Besides, there are so many murderers in the world," he said, "though it's only the few who get punished. I'm sorry for the few myself. Its damned bad luck, human nature being what it is."
"You don't know what you're talking about," said Sir Beverley.
"All right; let's talk about something else," said Piers. "Caesar had a glorious mill with that Irish terrier brute at the Vicarage this afternoon. I couldn't separate 'em, so I just joined in. We'd have been at it now if we had been left to our own devices." He broke into his sudden boyish laugh. ”

“ We will make Piers play to us presently, and then I will say good-night."
"Then we mustn't keep you waiting long," he said. "So Piers is a musician, is he? I didn't know."
"You had better go to bed, Avery; it's late," said Piers abruptly. "I can't play to-night. The spirit doesn't move me." He rose from the table with a careless laugh. "Say good-night to her, Crowther, and let her go! We will smoke in the garden."
There was finality in his tone, its lightness notwithstanding. Again there came to Avery the impulse to rebel, and again instinctively she caught it back. ”

“ They were sitting in the deep, deep heart of a wood—an enchanted wood that was heavy with the spring fragrance of the mountain-ash,—and Piers, the while he peeled a stick with the deftness of boyhood, observed with much complacence: "Well, we've done that old Whalley chatterbox out of a treat anyway. Of all the old parish gossips, that woman is the worst. I never pass her house without seeing her peer over her blind. She always looks at me with a suspicious, disapproving eye. ”

“ He smiled with the words, his own grim ironical smile; but the pathos of it cut straight to Piers' heart. He went down on his knees beside the old man and thrust his arm about the shrunken shoulders.
"I'll never leave you again, sir," he vowed earnestly. "I've been a heartless brute, and I'm most infernally sorry. As to marrying, well—there's no more question of that for me. I couldn't marry Ina Rose. You understand that?"
"Never liked the chit," growled Sir Beverley. "Only thought she'd answer your purpose better than some. For you've got to get an heir, boy; remember that! ”

“ You are only putting it on."
"All right!" said Piers. His eyes dwelt upon her with a species of mocking homage that yet in a fashion subtly flattered. He always knew how to please Ina Rose, though not always did he take the trouble. "Let us say—for the sake of argument—that I am quite inconsolable. It doesn't matter to anyone, does it?"
"I don't know why you should say that," said Ina. "It ought to matter—anyhow to your grandfather. Why don't you make him go by himself?"
Piers laughed a careless laugh, still boldly watching her. ”